He snatched a grateful breath then she drove her hand forwards again and clattered his head off the door. With her other hand she reached beneath his...open jacket and traced her fingers across his finely tailored shirt. The twitch his body gave in response to his nipples being tweaked brought a brief smile to her face. The hand now slithered down over his body and rested all too briefly on his crotch. Her nimble fingers grasped his zip and then insinuated their way in through his fly. They. As she entered, I could tell she was female by the rustling of her clothes as she sat. When I slid open the small doorway between us, I could see her hands clasped in her lap through the diaphanous material that separated her from her confessor.As she started her confession, the same way hundreds of others have since I began hearing them many years ago, I was stricken by the sultriness of her voice, and the desperation! Most women, at least those who confess to 'impure thoughts', do not go into. More

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