Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned, but for the last few days I have been thinking inappropriately about Janusz. Of oh so many things some of which are not compatible with his vows.
I want to see him crying and desperate uttering “please, i’m sorry, i’m so sorry” only to kiss away his tears and comfort him, I feel he’s so starved of friendly touch and compassion. But also I want more than that. No matter the way, I want to see his neck blush from the overwhelming orgasm after I’m done with him. I want to see him smile for at least once more in his life. He’s so sweet, he deserves it. And a break from his mourning, too.
I want to explore his body, finding out where he’s most sensitive by experimenting with soft caressing touch, licks and kisses. I want to hold Janusz’ hand to reassure him, while I gently go down on him and he’s covering his face in embarrassment with his other hand and weeping, but I’m sucking him off, licking at the tip as if I’m fighting for my life. Janusz may come in my mouth, thighs trembling and his hand grabbing mine on instinct, with an extra sweet moan, I would take it all in one swallow. He apologizes again, for not lasting long, for the fact he came so suddenly, but I reassure him. I want him to feel nice and good for at least once in his life.
Or if he can’t get hard — it’s okay, he’s not young anymore, there’s no need to be ashamed. I’ll kiss the base of his delicate soft cock and give him a prostate massage, gently and carefully stretching him from the inside, starting with just one finger, whispering praises in his ear, saying his name in the most loving way ever, patting his head of soft grey hair. You’re doing so good, Your Eminence, taking me so well.
Or, we can make room for both.
Forgive me, forgive me, Father…