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Sinning Can Be Fun

Kinky Kate   November 17, 2019   | 7140 Views
Rowans parents think he’s strayed from God... Rowan thinks his brother should teach him a lesson... rings

“Rowan, hurry up, we’re going to be late!” My bottom lip quivered as my mother dragged me into the church. As we went up the steps, I wondered if I was going to be disowned for the sins I had committed. My family were very religious people, and due to recent events my mother was taking me to a priest who specialized in extreme cases of lost faith so that I could confess and get advice on my situation.

    I’m 16 and it was the summer before 11th grade. I was still living at home, obviously, but it was just me and my parents. 

    Unlike the kids in my class, I actually like my family. Papa’s a big, powerful man who works in finances, and Momma is a (slightly) chubby brunette who stays at home and cooks. I have three older siblings; my oldest brother, Peter, is 30 and already has 5 kids. My sister, Maria, lost faith in God and my parents told me I’m not allowed to talk to her until she finds her way once more. And then my youngest-oldest brother, Lucas, is living out of state. He owns an office building downtown and has a great sky-rise office. Whenever he comes down to visit he always brings me presents, even though I’ve told him not to multiple times. He says he likes spoiling me, or something like that.

     Growing up we hung out more than me and my other siblings did, so we’re really close. Lucas is 6 years older than I am, and you can’t really tell we’re siblings. He is tall, lean and muscular while I’m really short for my age (I look about 12.... maybe that's an exaggeration, but I look younger than I am) and not visibly fit. Lucas has neatly placed, dirty blonde hair that frames his angular face nicely when it comes loose, leaving a couple of gelled strands floating lazily over his hazel eyes. I have shaggy, dark brown hair that fits my round face and, according to Momma, “really brings out my eyes”, which are a deep blue.

    I snapped back to reality as we entered the church. I remembered why we were there and began to sweat. Momma marched towards the woman at the front desk and politely asked where Father Andrews was, because we had an appointment. 

     “He’ll be ready for Rowan in a few minutes,” the woman smiled at us. “You may take a seat in the waiting area until then.”

     I sat down beside my mother, who instantly began to pray for me. I felt terrible for causing her grief, and apologized.

     “Rowan,” she looked at me. “You are a handsome young man. You are smart, you are friendly. Why must you disrespect Him like this?”

     “Momma, I can’t-“

     “Don’t tell me you can’t help it, boy! First you soil your sheets over impure thoughts and now you lie to your own mother? Have you no self-respect?”

     I was about to respond when a man stepped into the room. “Miss Bridle, Father Andrews will see you now.”  

     “The confession isn’t for me, it’s for my son, Rowan.” Momma explained. “He has strayed down a sinful path that I fear he may never return.” I blushed as the other people in the waiting room clucked their tongues and gossiped, which was real hypocritical since gossip is a sin, but whatever.

     The man nodded sympathetically. “Father will listen and see if he is fit for redemption. Please, come this way.” We went down a long hallway until we got to a door. 

     “Father Andrews is in here.” The man told us. “He will see Rowan alone, with a curtain between them to save himself from the impurity that infects your son.” Momma nodded and turned to me. 

     “If you lie to Father Andrews, you'll be grounded for the rest of the year.” She said, and I nodded. “You must tell him the truth, Sweet cakes, or else there is no hope for redemption.”

      “I will, Momma. I promise.” I kissed my mother on the cheek, took a deep breath, and slipped into the room.

      

“Hello, my child.” Father Andrews boomed, and I shook a little as I took a seat facing a large red curtain. “What is your name?” 

     “R-Rowan,” I replied nervously.

     “Rowan, my boy, what is it you are here to confess?” 

     “I, um...” I swallowed, hard. “I had impure thoughts about my brother.”

     “What is your brothers name?”

     “Lucas.”

     “I see.” The priest sighed. “Well, Rowan. You have committed a sin, correct?”

     “Yes, Father.”

     “Do you know what must be done?”

     “I was hoping you did.” I admitted.

     “I do. Would you like to know?”

     I nodded, but remembered Father Andrews couldn’t see me, so I told him I did.

    “You must confess your thoughts to God.” Father Andrews told me.

     I blinked. “I have to... tell God?”

     “Yes, my child. Every detail.”

     “Oh.” I blinked again. “Well, um... all of it?”

     “If you wish for forgiveness you must confess to your sin, Rowan.”

     “Okay,” I took a deep breath, and put all of my trust into Father Andrews and God. “I’ve been having the dreams for the past few months. It’s actually one reoccurring dream, it starts when-

-I enter Lucas’ big office. The normally cheerful room seems dark and foreign, despite the floor to ceiling windows and my visiting there many times before. 

     “You wanted to see me?” I ask. He looks tired, his hair flopping over his left eye, and silently gestures to the chair in front of his desk. I take a seat.

     “Do you like living with me, Rowan?” He asks, and I nod enthusiastically, because I do. I live with him in his giant apartment in the dreams, and it’s fun, so I say so.

     “So why,” he asks as he pulls something out from under his desk. “Did I find this series of messages on your cellphone.” I pale as he begins to read them off. “‘Hey dude, wanna come to a party 2nite? It’s gonna be fun’ ‘Would love to but I have to study. Have fun!’ ‘Oh come on, sneak out, live a little!’ ‘I don’t know.’ ‘I’ll pick you up @ 1 @ the park. I’ll wait for five minutes and if you’re not there I’m leaving.’ ‘Fine.’”

     He looks up at me. “Did you go?”

     I stare at the carpet. Don’t say anything.

     “I said,” Lucas yells. “Did you go?”

     I nod and begin to cry, and he shakes his head angrily, hazel eyes flashing. “I do so much for you, Rowan.”

     “I know,” I sob. “I’m sorry, Lucas.” 

     “Sorry won’t cut it. You disobeyed me, Rowan, and it’s time you learned your fucking lesson.” I blink, because Lucas never swears, and almost don’t hear him when he tells me to lay across his lap. 

     “What?” I ask.

     “You heard me. Get on my lap. You’ve been very naughty, so I’m giving you the spanking you deserve.”  

     I don’t move, thinking he must be joking, but this just makes him angrier. He growls as he reaches around the desk, grabs my wrist and pulls me into his lap. I yelp as he yanks down my pants and swats my bum cheek, telling me to count.

     “One,” I wail as he smacks the other.

     “T-Two,” The tears rush down my cheeks as my ass grows redder and redder, his slaps getting harder and harder. 

As we get to ten, he begins to lecture me as he spanks, explaining that he loves me, but that he has to do this to ensure I don’t sneak out again. I choke out another blubbering sob, and realize he’s begun to gently rub one cheek when he smacks the other, alternating between the two.

     To my surprise, it begins to feel... okay. 

     “Sixteen,” I whimper, not entirely from pain. His rubs turn to slight squeezes, and this time I involuntarily moan a little.  

     “What was that, Rowan?” Lucas murmurs, and my cheeks match as I blush a deep scarlet.

     “N-Nothing,” I whisper, not truly trusting myself to speak loudly.

     “Beg your pardon?” He asks again, and I can hear the smile on his lovely, wet lips.

     “Nothing!” But I falter as he gives my butt a hard squeeze, sending a sinful electricity into my groin.

     “Twenty-two,” As much as I pray against it, I stiffen in his lap as he continues to grope my cheeks.

     “Twenty-three,” I jump slightly as he leans down to my ear and licks his lips.

     “You’ve been a naughty boy, Rowan.” I shudder as he briefly stops his assault on my bum to massage both of my throbbing cheeks. 

     “Very.” His lips are an inch away from my neck and his fingers twitch towards my crack as I writhe a little in his lap.

     “Very.” A hairs breadth now, his lips and fingers teasing me horribly.

     “Naughty.” He’s about to nip me when he sits up straight and resumes my punishment, leaving me craving something I shouldn’t want. “Tell me what you did to deserve this, Rowan.”

     “I, um-” I physically restrain myself from thrusting into his warm lap as I struggle to think. “I went... to a party.” I finally gasp out as he roughly grabs one of my cheeks and jiggles it a bit.

     “Did you now?” Lucas mused as he releases me and spanks me harder than before. “What did you do there?” Slap. “Drink?”

     “No, we-”

      Slap. “Smoke?”

     “No! I-”

     Slap. “Sin?”

     “Never! Just listen-”

     “Wrong!” He snaps, and I shut my mouth as he grabs a handful of my hair and wrenches my face around to look him in the eyes. “You lied to me, Rowan. You lied to your big brother. You’ve broken my trust. The second you sent the text, you disobeyed me. Understand?” 

     I nod, and my eyelids fluttering slightly as he slowly slides his hand from my hair all the way to my bum. “Yes.” I croak out, eyes rolling back and toes curling. “I understand.” 

     To my utter shock, I feel his jeans tighten under me. “Do you?” 

     His hand glides up and down the backs of my thighs, and I turn to look at him. “Yes, Lucas.”

     He locks eyes with me and doesn’t look away as I begin to lightly hump him. He spanks me roughly and I speed up, relishing the sound of his assault. We rub against each other through his pants, our fluids beginning to soak them. 

     Faster, faster I thrust, and he begins to guide a thick finger up and down my bum crack. I arch my back, wanting more.

     Rougher, rougher he slaps, and I moan as he stops, wets his pinky and caresses my puckered hole. He growls his approval as I lead his free hand to tug my hair.

     Faster, faster, rougher, rougher, until

And then I wake up.” I finished, embarrassingly out of breath. “Usually in soiled bed sheets.” I looked down and realized in horror that I was semi-hard, but thankfully was able to shut it down quickly.

     “I see,” Father Andrews said flatly. “This is certainly not just some teenage rebellion, Rowan.” He takes a deep breath before asking me to go get my mother. I do, and she takes the chair as I kneel beside her. 

     “Cheryl, are you aware of the subject of your sons desire?” My eyes shoot to the curtain, shocked that he was going to tell her.

     “No, Father,” she answers, eyes closed and hands clasped in prayer. 

     “He has an older brother, correct?”

     “Two brothers and... and a sister, Father,” She confirms, not catching on.

     “And Lucas is one of them?”

     “Yes, Father. Lucas is my second youngest.”

     “Alright. Is Lucas a faithful to the church, my child?” 

     “Very much, Father. He is currently my most faithful child.”

     “What I would like for you to do, Cheryl, is to send Rowan to live with Lucas.” I gape at the curtain, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. What was going on?

     “Oh?” Momma looked shocked but quickly composed herself. “Alright, Father. When shall he go?” 

      “As soon as possible.” He responded. 

      “For how long, Father?”

      Father Andrews pauses to think for a moment. “The rest of the summer. Would you like me to tell you why, my child?”

      “If you wish it, Father.”

      “Rowan is feeling-” I sucked in a breath, steadying myself for the worst. “-a bit of normal teenage rebellion.” I stared incredulously at the curtain, and realize with shock that Father Andrews is lying to Momma. “He is not lost, he has merely taken a brief detour.” He continued. “I believe that spending a few years with a male of similar age will do him some good, especially with a young man as faithful and successful as your son, Lucas. Make sure he stays for at least two months, and should the boys enjoy the arrangement, do allow them to keep it, Cheryl.”

     “Of course, Father.” Momma looked ready to weep after hearing I wasn’t going to Hell, but I was confused. We stood to leave, thanking him.

     “Peace be with you, my children.” Father Andrews told us.

     “And also with you, Father.” My mother and I told him, and while Momma practically skipped out of that church, I was shell-shocked. Why had Father Andrews lied to my Momma?

The moment we returned home Momma told Papa what Father Andrews suggested. He ran a hand down his face.

     “So it’s just rebellion, eh?” He turned to me and smiled broadly. “That’s great! Bonding with your brother’ll straighten you out in no time!” 

     I smiled weakly, then made up some excuse to go start packing, mind still spinning. Is it even legal for a priest to lie? I wondered. Doesn’t matter, I told myself. I said I would pack, and lying is a sin, so get packing.

     I grabbed the flatted boxes from the move a decade ago out of the garage and began to fold and place my clothes into them. Humming one of my favourite tunes, I let myself imagine living with Lucas. Maybe he could teach me some business tips, show me around his office. I hadn’t been to his flat in a while, was it really as big as I remembered?

     Time flew by and soon enough half my room was packed. I went downstairs to eat supper, then washed up for bed. I threw on a clean pair of boxers since it was sort of warm out, and as I was rifling through what was left of my pyjama drawer, I came across an old hoodie of Lucas’. I held it up to myself in the mirror and found it was huge on me. Lucas went through an oversized-sweater phase in high school, and it was comically gigantic on my ridiculously short body. 

     Nevertheless, I pulled it on and laughed to myself as I realized it looked like I didn't have anything on under it. I pulled the hood up as a cool draft swept through my room, and with it, Lucas’ cologne. I inhaled sharply, not expecting the flashbacks, nor the affect it would have in my boxers. I tucked it into my waistband as a quick fix and hollered goodnight to my parents. Then I shut my door, said my prayers, and shut out the light. Laying on my back in the dark, I ignored the faint pulse under the covers for as long as I could, trying everything I could think of to rid myself of it. Finally I couldn’t take the throbbing any longer and slowly slid off my underwear.

     I’m not huge, but I think I’m a little big for my age, around 7 and a half inches. I gently ran my fingertips over my light brown fuzz, and shivered at the tingling that followed.  I reached for the Kleenex on my night stand, grabbing 4 or 5. Wrapping my hand around the base, I began to rub my thumb up and down, then grazed it along the head that was already dripping. I twirled it again, shuddered, then began to pump my fist along my shaft, biting my lower lip to ensure I’d stay silent.

     At first I was thinking about nothing in particular, but my thoughts slowly shifted to a certain hazel eyed brother of mine and I sighed in frustration. “Stop sinning, dumbass,” I whispered to myself repeatedly, even though all I could really concentrate on was the memory of Dream-Lucas telling me what a naughty boy I was. I bit my lip harder, apologizing to God for the sins I was about to commit. 

     I surrendered myself to my fantasies, and then Lucas was everywhere. He was rubbing me through my pants at Sunday dinner, letting me ride his leg in his bedroom, watching me now as my hand pumped furiously. He tugged sharply on my hair as I felt the ache of release begin to climax, and told me how naughty I truly was. What he did to naughty boys. How he punished them.

     I let out a muffled moan as I completely forgot about the Kleenex, my hand barely moving as I thrust into my fist, hips bucking wildly. “Heavenly Father, forgive me,” I panted as I realized that I had shot my own seed all over my chest. I stare up at my ceiling, and a naughty idea came to me. I place the unused Kleenex on my nightstand and dug around my covers for my boxers. Instead of sliding them back on, however, I rub them all over my sticky chest and crotch. I hold them up to my nose and took a tentative sniff, surprised that it... wasn’t terrible. I inhaled deeply, smiling to myself as I tucked the smelly underpants into my pillowcase. My own cum filled my nostrils as I drifted off to sleep.

The week flew by, and soon I was boarding a plane to Lucas’. I was super nervous he’d somehow forgotten about me the whole flight, but when I went to get my baggage, there he was.

     Lucas was wearing baggy army green pants and a plain black T-shirt. His clunky black boots were untied and his hair was more dishevelled than usual. He smiled his classic half grin at me and ran over to help me with my stuff.

     “Hey, Rowan!” He cried, and I froze as he stooped down to peck me on the lips. It wasn’t anything major, but we’d never done that before... not that I minded too much.

     “Hey, Lucas,” We left the airport and found his black Jeep easily; parked in the middle of a sea of white vehicles.

     “The black sheep of the family,” he joked and we chatted on the long way home, about his job, Papa and Momma, everything.

     We finally pulled up to his ginormous apartment building, a sleek, glass structure about 15 stories tall. We went up the elevator, and when we finally arrived in his penthouse, I was shocked.

     Beautiful, expensive artwork decorated the open space, which had a gorgeous modern/rural aesthetic. His long, white leather L couch faced a huge flatscreen TV, and just behind that was his kitchen. The countertops were a sleek metallic steel which paired nicely with the appliances and the rustic cupboards.

     “Wanna see your room?” He asked. 

     “Sure,” I smiled. 

     “Come on,” he laughed as I lagged behind, trying to take in his beautiful home. He reached behind me and swatted my ass, and I forced a laugh. He’d never done that before... it felt really good, almost better then in the dream.  Singing the National Anthem in my head I managed to calm down my dick, but it took some serious self control. 

     My room was pretty plain, just four white walls, but it was close to Lucas’. If he left his door open, I could see his bed from the reflection of a mirror in the hallway. 

     He left me to unpack my bags and boxes, and I smiled in excitement for the rest of the summer. 

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