straddling a priest on a pew, feeling his clothed cock stiffen under you. he tries to object, stammering, but you can tell he wants it just as much as you do. you wait, giving him every chance to truly stop you, to yell, to push you, anything. he doesn't. all he does is mutter prayers to god, not asking for this to end, but to be forgiven.
he's crying silently, but it's okay. you kiss his face and lick his tears and whisper reassurances that no one will know. you're certain that this won't be the last time this happens, and that next time you won't be the one who has to initiate it.