A new story about a catholic french canadian whore. Very hot and filthy

http://eroticostory.com/True-confession.html

Here is an extract :

My name is Sandra. Each Sunday I go to the church and all the time, I go directly to the confessional. There, I can say everything that I want, especially the bad things that I do. Usually, it is reverent Douglas who is on the other side. I'm not suppose to know who he is, but, you know, sometimes he and I have some fun after the session, especially when I've been a very bad girl. So this week, I hope he is there, because I want my punishment, very badly. But this week, instead of reverent Douglas, it is another priest. A younger one, should I say. I knew it by the tone of his voice.
After the introduction, I started to confess my sins.
--- I've been a very bad girl this week, father. First, last Sunday, after the ceremony, I went to the back of the church and sat down to look at the crowd. I was excited because of what appended between the reverent and me. Cau'se, he and I had sex in the confessional and I enjoyed every drop of cum that he ejaculate in my mouth. But, since I didn't came, I wanted sex more than ever. When everybody left the church, I began to touch myself. I touched my breast and my cunt. I have to say that I love the smell of joss sticks burning all around the place. I went on my knees and instead of praying I started to masturbate. It felt so good when I came, I squirt all over the floor.

Do all women rever the guy who broke their cherries?

I have 5 to 10 girls who will masturbate on the phone or on camera for me at any given time, at any given time.

What I do is, I go onto Facebook and find a profile of a good looking guy. You know what I'm talking about. The guy who has fifteen comments under every picture of him written by girls that say "oooh cute haha" or "heyy text me :3". I make sure he has a self taken mirror shot with no shirt on, commonly called the Douchebag Shot, and I download all of his pictures using a script I wrote a while ago.

I then go onto our beloved mlps.pika777.eu.org, and find an omegle or similar video of a guy masturbating who matches my guy's body type, and crop out his head, if it's not already out of the frame.

Then, I go onto pof.com, and upload all of the facebook photos (save for the shirtless one)to a fake profile. I make the bio say that I'm rich and successful and interesting, and I start taking to girls. My opening lines are long usually fruitless (Because the women on dating websites are accosted daily by hundreds of tactless knuckledraggers).

I snare one, and we get talking. Now, I, being the suave and sensual motherfucker that I am, eventually street the course of the colloquial interaction towards sex. I get her comfortable talking to me about sexual things, and then I imply that I want to meet her.

The thought of meeting a 7 foot tall millionaire with twelve-pack abs and a penis that would shame Morphius is very arousing for a girl, so usually RIGHT THERE on the spot, she gets horny. I find the occasion to send her the shirtless pic (being sure to erase the geodata just in case that bitch knows a smart person) and say "I took this just now, for you".

his not only serves to open the flood gates on her ladyjizz producer, but affirm the validity of my claims (that I am, in fact, who I say I am). I continue smooth taking her until SHE asks ME to cam. This is important. Never proffer, always wait for the offer. Then I just boot up many cam and start streaming the video I downloaded earlier.

I make sure to write down in a separate document all of the timestamps that the guy in the video does things at. Like, wave at 4:10 or take off pants at 11:05. I ca,m with her for no more than five minutes, and then "something comes up" and I need to go. I leave this unspecific because whores love dudes who are mysterious. They're so stupid that they actually make shit up about what they think I'm doing MAYBE HE'S FIGHTING CRIME?

I say something along the lines of "can i get your number before I go, id love to continue talking to you". Once I get it, I wait at least a day to call her, and when I do, I call her from my skype account that I've forwarded my google voice number to, and use a synthesizer program to make my voice a little bit deeper. I talk slowly, and I'm always sure to speak fluidly and eloquently.

I say slyly suggestive things to her until her panties are sufficiently moist, and then I go in for the kill.

She femfaps over the phone for me, moaning and shit, and I just sit there and listen, recording the whole thing. Then later, It's laughably easy to get her to get on cam with me and masturbate again.

I do this with at least two women per day on weekends, and one on weekdays, and at any given time, I can call a girl from my "proxied" phone number and get her to schlick for me. It's wonderful.

You see, in real life, I am an uninteresting looking guy. 6', 220, short hair and glasses. No one wants to fuck the chubby guy who giggles when people say "centrifugal force". But on the internet, online, in a realm in which corporeal action is completely nonexistent and men of intellect reign over their psychological inferiors, I am a God. All skankwhores will bow down in reverence, in awe, in sexually motivated bursts of fiery passion, to the one, THE ONLY, CIRCUMPSYCHO!

Pic related, its a girl that squeaks like a dying canary when she orgasms.

Megan often comes to me in dreams. She represents a profound familiarity that I’ve experienced little elsewhere. A comfortable old pair of shoes. You don’t consider their presence as such, you just slip them on. Not dismissed, but seldom considered as such. Not taken for granted - accepted as is. The way we accept a hip connecting to a pelvis, and so on. A perfect fit continued to be forged through wear and time. Familiar, easy, a place where, should one have their way, would forever be. Yet alas, I awake from the conjured feelings of long ago, and feel them fade. But they leave behind remnants protruding of a time gone, but to not be buried. A loss, but not in vain, as I didn’t know this feeling before meeting her. And now there’s more. Something to move back and forth with - to aspire to. And I do so with hope. It solicits hope. It is hope. To believe in the thing you aspire to as though it’s already here. There’s no question it exists. There’s no question it’s obtainable. And you allow that knowing to stroke you. That settled warm feeling of fire rising from your belly. It emanates from your heart. That for me is hope. And is what these dreams leave behind.

We didn’t get along, Megan and I. For nine excruciating years we didn’t get along. But we were passionate and familiar and comfortable. And so we stayed, despite the pain of needing to not be together. Because those are the things I aspire to be with someone. Only this time with love. But we stayed. And passion was our love.

We kissed as though we belonged to one another. Mouths interlocked. Each tongue exploring the other’s. This singular act elicited depravity within both of us. An equal exchange of rational behavior for pleasures, summoning an irrationality neither ever cared to resist - only dig our claws deeper into. An equal exchange of saliva. This roused me. I couldn’t get enough. We couldn’t get enough. And what made it hard, harder than even I thought was possible, was her arousal for the reverent exchange. And so we proceeded as so. My insatiability met with not only acceptance, but a desire for more. And not simply more of the same, as though continuing on cruise control. But if 55 MPH was good, then for her, more MPH would be better. So more meant deeper diving into insatiability. And more quenched the fire while stoking more desire.

My arousement extracting hers. Her receival reciprocating mine. Exchanging spit, I couldn’t believe that drooling into someone's mouth could turn them into the demon for desire she became. I couldn’t believe I was being met there. And not only met, but summoned. I often deem my lust for underbellied passions of life to be met only in my fantasies. But then I remember Megan.

I fed her, and she received it. Gobbling as though feeding her pending orgasm. Grabbing at my tongue. Pulling me into hers. Latching on. Quite frankly, I drooled and she drank. She suckled and I provided. Her hand to her vagina, she rubbed. Mine on myself. We fed from each other our longing to no longer be together, misdirected toward the quenching of our insatiable desires for pleasure. Our desire for more became our passion toward each other. Meeting only where we both knew how to feel good. Satiating the insatiable, we came. Her with her hands, me with her mouth. I fed and she lapped, treating my head as if it were still my tongue. I provided the familiarity of taste, of her pleasure. I edged myself, sometimes for hours. The first white glistening drop emerging proud from its tip was received like a diamond on an engagement ring. The look on her face as her eyes rolled back into her head. Her mouth opened, her cheeks softened and glazed over with blood red. Her tongue searching for proof of my enjoyment. My cock slowly released into her mouth, a little at a time, precum wiped onto her tongue like a rag she loved to use for cleanup. My edging, edged her. She couldn’t cum until I did. This wasn’t a rule or a game we played. There were no rules. Megan did not have the ability to cum until I came. My cum created her orgasm. And her orgasm I was after.

A trickle of spit added to her mouth. Replacing my tip with my tongue. Back and forth. My swollen head making a quick visit to the back of her throat. “Oh fuck.” Her large gravity defying bust heaving upwards in one snake-like full bodied writhing motion. Her two words said more than seductive measures ever could. Not more of the same, but more. And so our synchronicity became locked on each other's cum. And she suckled until my orgasm became hers.

I search for the familiarity of not only a mouth to cum in again - there’s been many - but the knowing in myself that despite the deepest and sometimes darkest desires I hold, the ones I sometimes feel only exist in my brain, also carry the ability to not only be met and received, but carried in someone else's desires as well. For every cock that needs to cum, a mouth awaits to receive it. And for every mouth that needs to feed, a cock waits to feed it. What we search for is also searching for us.

I am infatuated with mature older women and I love watching wives or lesbians get their pussies filled with dock and cum... It all started with what might be wrong but my mother was a lesbian and her partner Leslie was a royal bitch but in 9th or 10th grade as I was perving out on skinemax and steoking myself she waled in on me on full display... she said oh my God and did a 360 as I tried to cover myself but as I nervously watched the door to see if I could or should resume she quietly opened my door and stepped back in, she whispered I'm not upset or anything and I'm sorry I walked in on you but oh my God... you, your... her nervousness was endearing in a way but I had just beenncaught and i was nervous to say the least so when. She was by me in bed and told me I could continue I declined saying my inspiration was over anyway but she surprised me stepping closer and whispering "do u maybe need help? Her gaze glued to the location of my dick beneath a pillow. " What were u watching porn or maybe I could..." she stopped talking but her hand was reaching towards the pillow and as she leaned in her breasts almost touched me only the shirt she wore seperating me from her waiting breasts. She looked back towards me and saw where my attention was and she asked me with clear curiousity have you ever hooked up with a girl yet? 1st base? second maybe? I was speechless but she must have seen something indicating consent because she reached up and lifted her shirt, do you know how to touch a woman? She exposed her breasts and told me in a tone hat could raise the dead, " show me how you would touch me?" I was still frozen but her nipple swayed before me with a hypnotic rythm compelled me and she. lifted my hand and placing it over her breasts said " I love being touched my nipples are especially sensitive..." I tightened my grip cupping her breast before moving my fingers to manipulate her pink nipple between them she deeply sighed and began breathing heavily as I began massaging her breasts and nipples feeling more confident by her sounds "mmmm yes that's it... show me how touching me affects you, is your dick hard? " She reached under the pillow and wrapped her hand around my dick akwardly stroking me "fuck... you are gonna break hearts with this di..." She gasped as my lips found her nipple tongue rolling across the soft pink flesh before my lips closed and I began sucking her " mmm no stop...yes mmm yes taste my titties baby" her grip and rhythm intensifying as she pressed against my mouth. Using her moans as agreement I switched to her other breast and continued to find a rythm as she stroked me and fumbled with her pant string "touch me baby, feel me, mmmm your making my pussy throb" she pulled her wasteband and her hand disappeared into her pants and as the sounds of her finger working itself between her lips I began to smell her arousal and let my fingers trail down her arm towards her busy fingers replacing their job of working her insides and clit " mmm fuck no no your so bad..." she was rocking on my hand stroking my dick and now pulling her nipple free places her soaked fingers to my lips and looked at me "have you ever tasted a woman? Ooh your touch feels so good" I took her fingers into my mouth and killed my fingers deeper. She fell into me harder and was warning me. " Ok we have to stop.... mmmm fuxk you feel so good but no more it's too..." Does anyone remember the ignorance and stubbornness of youth? I didint even hear her because and she was protesting I was in a surprisingly fluid motion pulling down her pants and pulling her down on top of me guiding her thighs over my hips and bracing my dick to absorb her weight as her decent caused an inevitable connection that left me inside her so deep I couldn't explain myself out of that were I to be caught but my actions seemed to hit her at the same time because the shock on her face melted into puse lust as she decended and we were fully connected. "Aaahmmmmf "she wrapped her arms around my neck and allowed me to set a rhythm rocking her back and forth she was moaning softly then louder as my need drove my motions with a selfish need and desire " oooj your in me oh God you are soo deep baby! She was trembling but I was still frenzied by the intimacy of knowing her is such a deep and personal way. " Oh fuck this dick, mmm baby I fucking fuck oh my God I'm fucking you aaahh I'm gonna mmm yes" she buckled down and started grinding into me fiercely and found my eyes with hers you are making my pussy flood baby... Oooh fuck you better noaaaaah fuck right there yes um cumming baby don't slow down I need it it's mine mmmm" I can feel her juices flowing and her tightening pussy was taking me over the edge and in a flash I started to cry out but my almost scream was muffled by her lips closing on mine and she bounded against me trembling and rocking body demanding my cum which I was at the very moment relinquishing to her care in greater amounts with each slap of her hips and mine dick pulsing and throbbing a wordless song about her pussy now belonging to me and even as she slowed her back against me her pussy cried out in her own squishy declaration that she was mine and when our lips parted she looked into my eyes and almost wordlessly mouthed "what did you do oh baby no no no mmmm do I'm you know what u just do?" she slowed but didint stop and leaned back reaching down to where we were connected and wrapping her fingers around my dick " are you trying to get me killed? You came inside me and I am your mother's how and I supposed to go back in there with her babys cum soaking every inch of my pussy huh" she was clearly upset but at that moment I was experiencing my first view of contrast and even though moments before I released every bit of myself my grip tightened and I began pulling her harder against me and her words fell short and her fell short as she leaned back and looked where our bodies were connected, her pussy stretched around my dick and our combined juices flowing down my shaft and looking at the base of my dick but it was beautiful. watching her creamy skin in contrast to my chocolate dick seemed more taboo that what was already occuring I felt a rush of excitement as I pulled her harder against me " oh ahh fuck daa ... No no no no I don't care how good this feels I am not going to fall for a fuck" she bucks against me with harder and I try to wrap her up and pull closer but she is trembling and when I look at her she is intense... " yes I'm coming all over you again mmm but you aren't mine and I'm already being so bad" she grips me harder digging fingers into me " but while im being a bad bad aaaah bad girl use my pussy like its yours because ot will never happen again" and i did, flipped her on her back i dug deep watching our bodies mixing and enjoying the sensation It suddenly
occured to me I was leaving my seed on my mom's dinner plate so to speak and that thought pushed me over the edge and I pounded her pussy as my provence filled her in floods and torents but as I lifted to get up she stopped me and with surprising innocence said " please can you hold me for a little while this was my first and I know your gonna break my heart...

Since an encounter that never should have been I have treated women with the same reverance and appreciation I had that day and since then anytime I encounter a creamy pussy with that beautiful contrast I pump it full of my seed a mature woman still very much alive I ostentaciously shower with flirtations that may be a little too intense but when I am tongue fucking her as she climaxes with the intensity and abandon as if she were once more in her teens the high I feel the rightness of our intimacy secures the surety that nothing can diminish... And while I have been absent such expierences of late even a passionate exploration via chat can bring me back to that place of perfection... Won't you share yours with me?

I am from the uk, I am not racist - But I am pro-britain, However I confess when I read shit like this I just want to get a shotgun and go round shooting all the fucking muslims...................

The Royal British Legion are not selling poppies in certain areas for Nov 11 this year. This is because some minorities say that it will upset them.

I say Fuck off ... The poppy is a symbol of reverence for our fallen heroes of all the wars the BRITISH military have fought in.

BRITAIN STAND UP AND SAY 'WE WANT THE POPPY SOLD EVERY WHERE IN THE UK'. THIS IS OUR RIGHT TO REMEMBER OUR FALLEN

I confess that I think an old friend may want something 'more' again.

When I was back in Uni I caught up with one of my school friends, but it was her group of friends that I got on with the most. Out of the 5 girls I had sex or fooled around with 4 of them, once word got round that I was 'large' then everyone wanted a shot, other than my friend and her sister (at least not that her sister wanted to admit, I know she was interested but wouldn't do anything because she didn't want to cause any weirdness with her sister).

One of the earliest experiences was with a girl, I'll call her S. Once she'd had several rounds with me, she gave another girl, lets call her 'A' a recommendation and the next time we saw each other we ended up fooling around, and a few more times after that. Unfortunately we never got to have full sex, she was **TINY**, every part of her was tiny, and when we tried sex I was just too wide for her and it never happened to completion.

Fast forward more than 10 years, we're all still good friends, although we never see each other as much as we did we still keep in touch. All the girls in the group get together more often than we do as a whole group, including... dun dun duuuunnnn... my wife. The usual bitching occurs and of course guys and history comes up, they all love having a laugh about the fact I've 'had' most of them and I have to admit it feels good to be revered in my group of friends as the guy with the big dick, I have a good memory and remember almost every encounter with each of them, it was good fun and my wife finds it quite amusing.

So a few years ago I 'cheated' on my wife, it's in inverted commas because we've always had a happy and healthy relationship but have always worked on a 'dont ask, don't tell' system but something happened once where I had to tell her all about what happened, not that it bothered her much but the info leaked through to my group of friends. I caught a LOT of shit from my more 'square' friends but S and A are both very liberal with this kind of thing and we've all discussed/joked about it.

So this is where the conundrum comes in, A likes to drink and occasionally gets messy drunk, sometimes at home where she lives alone and she's told me she's been going through a dry spell for literally years. Occasionally she will have a full on chat about sex with me, more than you would with friends, like what she likes to do, how she likes to be done, which toys etc. Then she also occasionally sends me just a 'hey...' type message, usually really late when I'm still up and my wife is in bed.

I can't help but wonder if she's looking for maybe a little further encounter.