Holy Fuck

Thirty-eight-year-old MikeEdwinstowe caught his wife, Denise, also thirty-eight, getting shafted by her twenty-one-year-old toyboy. Not surprisingly there was a huge row and a distraught Mike stormed out of the marital home but was then at a loss as to where to go. He was about to phone his best mate but then remembered that he was currently trying to repair his own damaged marriage so decided that that was not the best option.

It was now nine o'clock at night and Tony, who had just had a couple of quick drinks in a pub, did what he decided was the best thing to do in the circumstances, he phoned his mother. Sixty-three-year-old Claire Edwinstowe had divorced Mike's father Stephen several years previously but had never remarried.

"Mike, why are you calling at this time, what is wrong?" asked Claire on seeing her son's name come up on her phone.

"Mum, I caught Denise with her young lover, I have walked out," replied a still distraught Tony.

"Where are you, where are you going to stay?" said the concerned Claire thinking to herself that she always thought that Denise was a slut.

As it happened, Denise's current lover was just the most recent of several but, although he suspected it, Mike had never pressed her on the subject. Having told his mother that he did not know where he was going to stay and she, having established his current whereabouts, said that he was to stay at her house and she would come and pick him up. She collected him and once back at her house they had a lengthy chat about Mike's childless marriage and they decided that he was better off without his unfaithful wife.

Eventually, Mike went to one of the two spare bedrooms having decided that he would go back to his house the next morning, when Denise would be at work, and collect some of his clothes and possessions. Neither mother nor son knew how long the arrangement of Mike living with Claire would be for, but it seemed the best solution for the moment. Claire dropped Mike near his own house the next morning and he loaded clothing and various other items in his car as both he and Denise had a car.

Claire Edwinstowe was a very attractive woman with a very shapely body and she had had a few lovers since her divorce but none of them was long term and she had nobody at the moment. Mike and Denise's sex life had been close to non-existent for a number of weeks although it now became clear that Denise had not been going short.

Over the next two or three days, Mike started to settle in with his mother and Claire was pleased to have the company. Mike had a number of telephone conversations with Denise and sometimes they got a bit fraught. It became clearer his own house anytime soon. Mike and Claire watched television together in the evenings and both were enjoying the other's company.

It had not crossed Mike's mind that his mother might have a love life his moving in might have hampered, but on his fifth evening at Claire's house he asked, "Mum, is my being here upsetting your life?"

"No, of course not, but in what way are you meaning?" Replied Claire.

"Well, um... you know, um... are you seeing anybody?" Asked an embarrassed Tony.

"Ha, are you asking your old mum if she has got a lover?" Giggled Claire.

"Well no, but you are a very attractive woman."

"Why, thank you, young man. If only you were not my son ". laughed Claire.

"I mean it, you are attractive," insisted Tony.

"I mean it too, if only you were not my son," said a slightly more serious Claire.

The conversation ended there, but that night in their respective beds Mike was thinking that his mother really was a good looking woman and Claire was thinking that her handsome son would make a great partner for somebody.

The next morning at breakfast Claire said, "Why don't you and I go out for a meal tonight? It would do us both good."

"Yes sure, but I will pay," replied Tony.

"Ok, but I will pay for the taxi both ways," insisted Claire.

"Taxi? We have got two cars out there," said her son.

"Yes, but I am going to put a bottle of wine on your bill," laughed Claire.

Mike agreed and they decided on which restaurant to go to and the meal and taxi were booked. The meal and wine were good even if a bit expensive, but that was not a problem as Mike was reasonably affluent. During the meal, they both relaxed and laughed a lot and their eyes often met and sometimes their legs touched. The bottle of wine was consumed and some thought was given to ordering a second one but Claire pointed out that she had wine at home.

In the taxi home, they both sat in the back and they giggled and touched hands and Claire was amused by seeing the taxi driver's eyes on them in his rearview mirror. On arrival at the house, Claire paid the taxi driver which probably confirmed his suspicions.

Once indoors Claire laughed, "I am sure that taxi driver thinks that I have picked up a toyboy."

"Maybe you have," replied Tony, but then they both laughed slightly nervously.

They made themselves comfortable by removing their shoes and loosening some clothing and Claire produced the promised wine. They both sat on the settee but not too close together and chatted and giggled as the wine bottle got emptied. Neither of them was sober but neither of them was drunk.

They were both very much aware of the sexual attraction and sexual tension but neither wanted to be the first to talk about it or act on it. As neither of them had said anything, they parted at the top of the stairs and Mike went to the bathroom and Claire to her en suite.

They were each in their own rooms but Mike was naked and thinking about the attractive middle-aged woman in the room two doors away and Claire was wearing a shorty nightie with nothing underneath as she thought of the handsome man just a few yards away. Neither could settle and whilst Claire knew that she should not be having the thoughts that she was having, she could not stop having them and she could feel her sexual arousal mounting. Tony, in fact, was doing more than just thinking and his hand was now slowly sliding up and down his large erect penis. Despite all her misgivings, Claire decided that she had to do or say something so she got off her bed and headed for Mike's room.

Mike's hand was now moving faster on his cock and when his bedroom door opened his natural reaction should have been to cover up in embarrassment but he did just about the opposite and took his right hand away from his prick and just left his appendage twitching proudly as he looked at his mother. Claire should have screamed or said sorry for barging in or blushed but she did none of those and with her eyes fixed on her son's penis she moved towards his bed. As she approached, Mike could see that she was in all probability naked under her short nightwear. No words were spoken as Claire leaned forwards slightly to take Mike's rock hard cock in her right hand and Mike put his left hand under Claire's nightdress and onto her bare arse.

As her hand slowly wanked his cock Claire spoke the first words that had been uttered since they parted at the top of the stairs, "Nice cock you have there, Tony."

As Mike's left hand massaged Claire's buttocks he replied, "Nice arse you have there, Claire."

Claire leaned further forward and gave Mike's rod a couple of sucks as his hand remained on her arse but she straightened up and said, "My bed, I think."

She turned and slid the nightdress straps off her shoulders enabling it to drop to the floor and she deliberately swayed her big naked bottom as Mike, with his erection leading, followed her out of his bedroom door. In her bedroom, they kissed before she said, "You know that once we do this, there is no going back, don't you?"

But Mike answered by putting two fingers in her soaking wet cunt and kissing her again. Her hand was again wanking his cock as they struggled to the bed and her hand remained on his cock as they landed on the bed and she guided his throbbing meat into her cunt. As he eased all the way in, Claire found that her son must have one of the biggest, if not the biggest, penises ever to have entered her. Over the next few minutes, the new lovers alternated between gentle lovemaking and furious fucking and Claire yelled out as an orgasm approached and then hit, "Shit, oh God, oh fuck," as she twisted, squirmed and bounced.

With next to no action whilst at home, it was quite a while since Mike had felt his spunk starting to build before exploding in a cunt but it was building now and was about to explode in this sixty-three-year-old one.

Claire was in the process of cumming for the second time when, with a groan, Mike ejaculated fast and hard into his mother. Whilst still in the throes of erotic joy the two of them kissed with real passion.

They remained in each other's arms, occasionally chuckling, but saying nothing until Mikesaid, "Well Claire, you are a great fuck."

"Thank you, you are pretty awesome yourself," as she kissed him again and her hand started to stroke his currently relatively soft cock. She decided to have some different fun so she moved so that her cunt was on his face as she took his prick in her mouth. Claire had another orgasm with Mike's tongue on her clit before she again moved and this time lowered herself onto his rigid penis and rode him to her fourth and his second cum.

It had become pretty obvious that only Claire's bedroom would be needed in future and that Denise was welcome to her current lover because Mike would not be moving out of his mother's house, or bed, for quite some time. To people that did not know them who saw them out together, they appeared to be what they were, a middle-aged woman with a much younger lover. To people that did know them, they appeared to be a mother and son that were perhaps a little too close.

They fucked in various positions in various rooms over time and both were very sexually fulfilled.

Claire particularly liked being fucked from behind with her big arse in the air and if that big arse had the hand marks from a very recent spanking, then so much the better. One evening, a naked Claire was over a naked Mike's knee with her buttocks being turned pink and then red by his right hand when he asked, "Were you ever caned at school in the sixth form?"

She was breathless from the spanking and the sexual arousal that she was feeling but managed to answer, "Twice, once on my own and once with three other girls, why do you ask?" although her words came in short gasps as his hand continued to tan her arse.

"I ask because I am thinking of getting a cane to use on you," replied Mike as a series of spanks in quick succession met her arse cheeks.

She sometimes came during a spanking and she was close to doing so now but she blurted, "That is nice of you."

The fucking that followed this particular spanking was feverish before they came almost simultaneously.

So, it was a few days later that Claire, wearing a short skirt but nothing else, was bent over gripping her ankles as a naked Mike admired her bare arse as he flexed the cane.

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! THWACK!

Mike lashed six slow and hard strokes across her buttocks and she, "Ooohed," and, "aahed," and shook her bent over arse before she, still wearing the skirt and with a stinging and tingling backside, rode Mike until they were both spent.

Mike never did move out of his mother's house although their lovemaking gradually became less frequent, just occasionally Mike would be flexing the cane as he looked at the bare buttocks that he was about to thrash.

One lazy Sunday afternoon, Mike was sprawled out on the sofa in the living room, engrossed in a baseball match on TV. The sun slanted in through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the room. He had barely touched his beer, his thoughts preoccupied by the game.

"Mike, come and help me in the kitchen," Claire called out, her voice thick with a hint of something more than just a simple request.

Mike sighed and reluctantly peeled himself from the couch. "What's up, Mum?" he asked, as he padded into the kitchen, expecting to be handed a dish to dry or something equally mundane.

But Claire had other plans. She had been wearing a sheer, low-cut top and a short skirt that barely concealed her lacy thong. As soon as he entered, she grabbed him by the shirt and pushed him against the fridge, her eyes burning with desire. "I need you," she whispered, her voice hoarse with want.

Mike, caught off guard, tried to resist. "Mum, not now, I'm watching the game."

Her response was to kiss him deeply, her hands wandering down to his crotch, feeling for his reaction. But Mike's mind was still on the baseball, his body unresponsive to her touch.

Then, as if on cue, the doorbell rang. Claire's eyes widened in mischief. She looked through the peephole and whispered, "It's Father O'Reilly, the parish priest."

Mike's eyes grew wide. "What does he want?"

"Does it matter?" she said, her hand now squeezing him firmly. "You either hide in my bedroom and watch or join me. Your choice," she added with a wink.

Mike's mind was racing. He knew that his mother had a wild streak, but this was something else entirely. He didn't know if he could watch her with someone else, even if it was for his own protection. But the way she was looking at him, with that seductive smile and those hungry eyes, made him feel like he had no say in the matter.

With trembling hands, Mike followed his mother's instructions. He retreated to her bedroom, his heart hammering in his chest. He could hear the murmur of conversation from the living room as Claire opened the door. He knew he should hide in the closet, but instead, he found himself peeking through a crack in the door.

Father O'Reilly looked surprised to see Claire dressed so scandalously, but she quickly regained her composure. "Oh, Father," she purred, "I didn't expect you today."

"I came to check on you, my child," he said, his eyes lingering on her breasts.

Mike felt a strange mix of anger and arousal as he watched his mother flirt shamelessly with the priest. She had always been a beautiful woman, but seeing her like this was something he had never expected.

"Why don't you come in and sit down?" she suggested, leading him to the sofa where Mike had just been sitting. "We can talk more comfortably here."

Mike retreated into the shadows of the room, his breathing shallow. He couldn't believe what he was about to witness, but he couldn't tear his eyes away.

Father O'Reilly sat down, his gaze following Claire as she crossed the room to the mini bar. She poured two whiskeys, one for him and one for herself. "To the good health of the parish," she toasted, handing him a glass.

The priest took a sip, his eyes never leaving her. "And to your eternal soul," he added, his voice thick with lust.

Mike watched as Claire sat next to him, her thigh brushing against the priest's leg. "Father, I've just been busy with Mike, my son," she said, her hand lingering on his knee. "You know how it is with family."

Father O'Reilly took another sip of his whiskey, his eyes flicking towards the bedroom door. "Is he... around?"

"No, no," Claire assured him, her hand sliding up his thigh. "Mike had to go out on some errands. We're all alone."

Father O'Reilly's eyes grew darker, and he set his whiskey down with a shaking hand. "Perhaps," he murmured, "I should not have come. I did not intend to interrupt your... family time."

Claire leaned closer, her fingers tracing the outline of the priest's collar. "Oh, don't be silly," she said, her voice a low purr. "You're always welcome here. Besides, I've missed your sermons. I've had so much on my mind lately."

Father O'Reilly swallowed hard, his eyes darting towards the bedroom door again. "Is everything... alright?"

"Oh, it's nothing," Claire said breezily. "Just the usual family drama. But I've found a new way to deal with stress," she added, her hand moving from his collar to the bulge in his pants. "It's been so long since I had someone to confess to, Father," she whispered, her breath warm against his ear.

Mike, hidden in the bedroom, felt a mix of anger and arousal as he watched his mother's hand slide under the priest's robe. He had never seen his mother act so brazenly before, but here she was, openly flirting with a man of the cloth. He should have felt repulsed, but instead, he found himself growing hard.

Father O'Reilly's hand reached up to stop hers, but his voice was trembling with lust. "Mrs. Edwinstowe, we shouldn't," he murmured, though his protest was weak.

"Why not, Father?" she responded, her hand continuing to stroke him through the fabric. "Isn't this what you've been thinking about during all those lonely nights at the rectory?"

Father O'Reilly's eyes closed briefly as he took a deep breath, trying to gather his waning self-control. "Madam, this is highly inappropriate. We are in the sanctity of your home, and I am a man of God."

"Ah, but you are not God, Father," she reminded him gently, her own eyes glinting with mischief. "You're just a man, and men have needs, don't they?" She placed her hand on his thigh again, feeling the heat of his arousal through his robes. "And I'm offering you a gift, a way to ease that burden. Don't you think that's what God would want for you?"

Father O'Reilly's struggle with his conscience was palpable. His eyes searched hers, looking for a sign of the sincerity in her words, or perhaps just the validation he needed to give in to temptation. "I-I don't know," he stuttered, his hand finally coming to rest over hers.

"Why don't you let me help you, Father?" she said, her voice a silky caress. "After all, I'm sure even a man of God needs to feel loved, to feel the warmth of a woman's embrace from time to time." She leaned in closer, her breath hot against his neck. "We could keep it our little secret," she whispered. "Just between you, me, and the confessional."

With a moan that was half-prayer, half-surrender, Father O'Reilly allowed his hand to be guided to Claire's breast, her nipple already erect and begging for his touch. Meanwhile, Mike, hidden in the bedroom, had pulled out his erection from his boxers, his hand moving almost involuntarily as he watched the scene unfold. His mother's hand slipped into the priest's robe, and she began to stroke him in time with the beating of Mike's own heart.

Father O'Reilly's resolve crumbled like a wafer under Claire's expert ministrations. He leaned in, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was desperate and hungry. Mike's hand moved faster, mirroring the rhythm of his mother's hand on the priest's cock. He couldn't believe what he was seeing, but he was powerless to stop the tide of arousal that was building within him.

The priest's hand found the hem of Claire's skirt, pushing it up to expose her thong-covered pussy. He fumbled with his own belt, desperate to feel her warmth, but she was already ahead of him. She stood up, her skirt riding up to her waist, and straddled him, her legs parted wide. Her hand guided his cock to her wetness, and she sank down onto him with a gasp. Mike's breath caught in his throat as he watched his mother's breasts bounce with each bounce on the priest's lap.

Father O'Reilly's hands gripped her hips tightly, guiding her movements as she began to ride him. The room was filled with the sounds of their passion--the slap of flesh on flesh, the grunts of the priest, and Claire's breathless moans. Mike felt his cock throb in his hand as he watched his mother's face contort with pleasure.

Suddenly, Claire pulled away, panting heavily. She looked at the closed bedroom, her eyes smoldering. " Mike, why don't you join us?" she suggested, her voice husky with desire. "You're already enjoying the show, aren't you?"

Mike's hand paused in his stroking as he considered her offer. He felt the lure of the forbidden was too strong to resist. He stepped into the living room, his cock at full mast.

Father O'Reilly's eyes widened with shock and guilt as he turned his head towards the bedroom door, where Mike now stood. The priest's face was a picture of panic and confusion, sweat beading on his forehead as he realized his sinful actions had been exposed.

Father O'Reilly's eyes darted between Mike and the open doorway to the bedroom, his face a mask of fear and regret. "I'm so sorry," he managed to choke out, his voice thick with arousal and guilt.

Mike felt a strange mix of emotions--disgust, anger, and something else, something he couldn't quite place. But he knew he wasn't about to stop his mother. She was his, and if she wanted to share herself with the priest, so be it. He stepped closer, his cock standing tall and proud, and said, "It's okay, Father. We all make mistakes."

With a look that was both apologetic and filled with lust, Claire took Mike's cock in her mouth, her tongue swirling around the head as Father O'Reilly continued to buck his hips, fucking her with a renewed vigor. The priest's eyes were squeezed shut, his expression one of pure ecstasy as he pumped into her. Mike's hand found his mother's hair, guiding her movements, as he watched the priest's hands tighten on her hips.

Father O'Reilly's breath was coming in ragged gasps now, and Mike could see the tension building in his muscles. "I think he's about to cum," he thought to himself, his own arousal reaching fever pitch. And then, without warning, the priest opened his eyes and looked straight at him and said,

"Mike," he panted, "could you... could you take over for a moment?"

Mike, his hand still buried in his mother's hair, met the priest's gaze. Surprise flickered across his face, but he nodded slowly, understanding what was being requested. He stepped aside, allowing Father O'Reilly to stand. The priest's cock was still rock-hard, and Claire's mouth was wet with saliva and precum.

Mike didn't need to answer. He stepped forward and took the priest's place, his cock nudging at the entrance to Claire's wet pussy. She moaned as he slid into her, her walls tight and warm around him. Father O'Reilly stepped back, his own cock still hard and needy, his eyes never leaving the sight of Mike fucking his mother.

"You're so good at this, darling," Claire murmured, leaning back to kiss Mike as he pushed into her. Her hand reached out, wrapping around the priest's cock, stroking him gently. "Why don't you sit down?" she suggested, gesturing to the chair beside them.

Father O'Reilly's cheeks were flushed with a mix of arousal and shame as he sat down heavily, his eyes never leaving the sight of Mike and Claire joined together. He watched, almost hypnotized, as Mike's muscles rippled with each thrust, his mother's body moving in perfect sync. It was as if he were watching a sacred dance, a forbidden rite that was somehow both beautiful and obscene.

Claire's eyes never left Mike's as she reached out to the priest, her hand wrapping around his still-hard cock. With a gentle tug, she encouraged him to come closer. He stumbled over, his legs weak with desire, and she took him in her mouth. The contrast between the roughness of her son's lovemaking and the softness of her lips was almost too much for him to bear. He felt his orgasm building, the tension coiling tightly in his balls.

"Fucking your own mother is a sin, is it not?" Mike panted, his eyes meeting Father O'Reilly's. The priest's eyes were wide with lust and fear, but he managed to nod.

"It's true," the priest rasped, his hand trembling as he made the sign of the cross over his chest. "But... but sometimes, God tests us, Mike. Sometimes we're tempted by things we know we shouldn't want."

Mike's thrusts grew more forceful as he watched his mother's mouth slide up and down the priest's shaft. "And what about you, Father?" he asked, his voice tinged with both anger and a strange kind of curiosity. "What temptations are you dealing with here?"

Father O'Reilly's eyes met Mike's, and for a moment, there was a flicker of understanding between them. He knew he had crossed a line, one that could never be uncrossed. But as Claire's head bobbed in his lap, her eyes closed in pleasure, he couldn't help but feel a twisted sense of relief that his secret was out. "I... I need to confess, Mike," he stuttered, his voice thick with emotion.

Mike slowed his pace, watching the priest's face intently. "Confess what, Father?"

Father O'Reilly took a shuddering breath, his eyes never leaving Claire's as she continued to suck his cock. "I've... I've wanted this for so long," he confessed, his voice strained. "To be with a woman, to feel... to feel this way again."

Mike's own climax was approaching, but he held back, intrigued by the priest's words. "And what about God?" he asked, his voice a mix of challenge and concern.

"God will forgive me," Father O'Reilly murmured, his eyes closing as Claire took him deeper into her mouth. "It's you I'm worried about, Mike. Can you forgive me?"

Mike stilled, his cock buried deep inside his mother's cunt. He looked down at her, her eyes closed in pleasure as she pleasured the priest, and felt a sudden rush of conflicting emotions. Anger, disgust, and a strange kind of tenderness all warred within him. "I can't judge you, Father," he said finally. "We're all just trying to find our way in this messed up world."

With that, Mike began to move again, his hips thrusting into Claire's warmth. He watched as his mother's eyes flickered open, looking up at him with a mix of love and need. She knew he was referring to their own transgressions, and she nodded slightly, her mouth still full of the priest's cock.

Father O'Reilly's eyes opened, his gaze meeting Mike's. "Yes, my child," he said, his voice shaking with the effort of maintaining his composure. "We can all seek forgiveness for our sins. But we must be truly repentant."

Mike felt the words resonate within him, but the pleasure of the moment was too intense to allow for contemplation. He picked up the pace, his cock sliding in and out of Claire's pussy with an increasing rhythm. She moaned around the priest's cock, her eyes locked onto Mike's.

The room was filled with the sounds of their passion--the slap of flesh against flesh, the gurgles of Claire's throat as she deep-throated Father O'Reilly, and their mingled moans. The priest's eyes rolled back in his head, and Mike could feel the tension building in his own body, the pressure rising with each thrust.

"We can commit sins. If we confess, God will forgive those sins. Isn't that right, Father?". Claire said. She was stroking him off with her hand, feeling his hardness under her palm.

Father O'Reilly nodded, his eyes still on the erotic display in front of him. "But, Father, what if the sin feels this good?" Mike's voice was filled with challenge and curiosity, his thrusts growing stronger.

The priest's eyes flicked to Mike's, and for a moment, he seemed lost for words. "God understands the human condition, Mike," he managed to say, his voice strained.

Mike's strokes grew deeper and harder, his breath coming in short, sharp gasps as he felt his climax building. "And what about you, Father?" he asked, his eyes dark with desire. "Is this the first time you've seen something like this?"

Father O'Reilly's eyes widened slightly, his hand still clutching Claire's head as she continued to suck him. "Yes," he admitted, his voice hoarse with lust. "In all my fifty-five years, I've never seen... never imagined... a son fucking his own mother ".

Mike felt a thrill run through him at the priest's words. He had never been the center of attention like this before, never felt so powerful. It was as if he and his mother were performing for an audience of one, and the priest's shock and arousal only served to fuel the fire burning within him.

"It's not every day you get to see a mother and son share such an intimate moment," Mike said with a wicked smile, his hips never stopping their punishing rhythm. "Is it, Father?"

" Yes, my son," the father said.

Claire's hand slipped from the priest's cock to cup his balls, her grip tightening ever so slightly as she watched her son fuck her. The priest's eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat as she began to squeeze them gently, rolling them in her palm. Mike watched with a mix of fascination and arousal as his mother's fingers danced over the sensitive flesh, her own pleasure clearly visible in her expression.

"Does that feel good, Father?" she asked, her voice filled with mock innocence. "It's just another part of the human condition, isn't it?"

Father O'Reilly could only nod, his eyes glazed over with passion as he watched the taboo scene before him. Mike felt his climax approaching, and he knew that he couldn't hold back much longer. He reached down, his hand tangling in Claire's hair as he pulled her head back, her mouth still wrapped around the priest's cock. "Mum," he gasped, "I'm going to cum."

Her eyes met his, a wild look of excitement in them. "Do it," she urged, her voice muffled by the priest's erection. "Cum inside me."

Mike's body responded to her command, and with one final, powerful thrust, he emptied himself into her. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and release that he had never felt before.

As he pulled out, panting, Claire turned to the priest. "Father," she whispered, her voice filled with a new urgency, "I need your holy seed as well."

The priest looked at her, his eyes wide with shock and lust. He knew he should leave, that this was wrong on so many levels, but his body was still rock hard, and the sight of her swollen, used pussy was too tempting to resist.

Mike stepped aside, his own cock still hard despite just having climaxed. He watched as Father O'Reilly stood, his robe falling away to reveal a body that was surprisingly fit for a man his age. The priest looked at Mike, then at Claire, his face a picture of indecision.

Father O'Reilly's gaze darted from Mike's spent form to Claire's inviting one. Her legs were still spread wide, her pussy glistening and open, begging to be filled once more. Despite his moral quandary, his cock throbbed with the need to claim her.

With a trembling hand, Mike reached down and took hold of the priest's erection. The older man's eyes widened as Mike guided his cock to the slick opening of his mother's pussy. "Pump your holy seed into her," Mike urged, his voice filled with strange excitement.

Father O'Reilly looked at Mike, his eyes filled with a mix of horror and desire. He thrust into Claire's welcoming warmth, her body accepting him with ease. She moaned around the priest's cock, her hips rising to meet each stroke as if beseeching him for more.

Mike watched, his hand still wrapped around the priest's cock, guiding him into his mother. The sensation was foreign, yet strangely arousing. He had never seen his mother with another man, let alone one of God's own servants. But here they were, engaged in an act that was both holy and profane.

Father O'Reilly's initial hesitation gave way to a frenzied need as he began to fuck Claire with more vigor. His hips snapped forward, his cock sliding in and out of her with a wet, slapping sound. Mike could feel the priest's heart racing through the shaft in his hand, the pulse echoing the rhythm of his own heartbeat.

"Mrs. Edwinstowe, are you absolutely certain about this?" Father O'Reilly managed to ask, his voice tight with control as he hovered on the edge of his climax.

Claire's eyes never left Mike's as she nodded. "Yes, Father," she breathed, her voice thick with desire. "I want it all."

Father O'Reilly's grip on her hips tightened as he drove into her, his movements becoming more frantic with each passing moment. "You're so beautiful," the priest murmured, his voice hoarse.

"Fuck me harder," Claire begged, her eyes glazed with lust. "Make me cum with your holy cock, Father."

Mike watched in awe as the priest obeyed, his hips smacking against her ass as he drove into her with increasing urgency. The sight of his mother, a woman he had always revered, being taken by Father O'Reilly in such a primal way was intoxicating.

"Yes, yes," Claire moaned, her eyes locked onto Mike's as she felt the priest's cock stretch her. "I want it, I want all of it." Her voice was a symphony of lust, each word resonating through the room and straight to Mike's core.

Father O'Reilly's eyes rolled back in his head, and he let out a guttural groan as he reached his climax, his hips bucking wildly as he emptied himself into Claire's welcoming heat. Mike felt a strange mix of emotions--shame, excitement, and something he couldn't quite put his finger on--as he watched the priest's body tense and release.

The priest's seed spurted deep inside her, filling her to the brim. Claire's body shuddered with her own orgasm, her pussy clenching around the priest's thick cock as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her. Her nails dug into Mike's arms as she screamed out her release, her body arching off the sofa.

Father O'Reilly pulled out, his cock glistening with their combined juices, and collapsed onto the cushion beside her. For a moment, there was only the sound of their heavy breathing, the room thick with the scent of sex and sin.

Mike stepped back, his cock still erect, watching the priest and his mother pant and recover from their union.

The following Sunday, Mike found himself sitting next to Claire in the pews, his thoughts racing as they listened to Father O'Reilly's sermon. The priest's words about forgiveness and redemption hung heavy in the air.

As the service concluded and the congregation shuffled towards the confessional, Mike felt his heart pound in his chest. He watched as his mother disappeared behind the velvet curtain, her face a picture of serene calm. His own stomach was a writhing knot of nerves and guilt.

When it was his turn, Mike slid into the cramped space and knelt before the priest. "Father," he began, his voice shaking slightly, "I have sinned."

Father O'Reilly's eyes met Mike's through the small grate, and for a moment, there was a flash of recognition, a silent understanding that passed between them. "Go on, my son," he said evenly, his own voice a mix of weariness and something else that Mike couldn't quite place.

Mike took a deep breath, his mind racing with the memories of the past week. "I... I've committed a mortal sin, Father," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've... I've had carnal relations with someone who is not my wife."

Father O'Reilly's expression remained impassive, his eyes never leaving Mike's. "I see," he said calmly, his voice steady despite the tumultuous emotions roiling within him. "And do you know the gravity of your actions?"

Mike nodded, his heart hammering. "Yes, Father," he whispered. "I know it was wrong."

The priest leaned closer, his eyes filled with a mix of understanding and something that Mike couldn't quite read. "And do you seek absolution, my son?"

Mike nodded, his throat tight with emotion. "Yes, Father. I want to be clean."

Father O'Reilly's hand emerged from the darkness, holding the crucifix steady. "Then say your prayers, my son, and God will forgive you."

Mike felt the weight of the priest's gaze on him, the same priest who had just three days before been buried inside his mother. He mumbled the words of the Hail Mary, his thoughts scattered with images of the past week's sins. Claire's moans echoed in his mind as he recited the prayer, the taste of her still lingering on his tongue.

As the confessional booth grew still, Mike stepped out, his heart racing. He found Claire waiting for him, her eyes questioning. They walked together to the car, their silence heavy with unspoken thoughts. As they approached, Father O'Reilly stepped out of the shadows of the church, his eyes filled with a hunger that was no longer hidden.

"Mike, Claire," he began, his voice a low murmur that seemed to resonate with the very air around them. "Before you go, I need to talk to you both."

Father O'Reilly's gaze flicked between them, a mix of desire and trepidation. "When I was confessing my own sins to my superior," he began, his voice low and earnest. He paused, swallowing hard. "I know it's a grave request, but... but if you both consent, He would like to... to be a part of it next time."

Mike and Claire stared at each other, their mouths open in shock.

Peace up on all my readers. Amen