As I sit in the dimly lit confessional, the scent of incense and sweat clings to my habit like a bad habit. I’ve heard it all before - the petty lies, the adultery, the coveting of one’s neighbor’s wife. But sometimes, the secrets shared with me are more than just the usual transgressions. Sometimes, they’re a whispered promise of sin, a forbidden fruit that hangs tantalizingly close to my lips. And I, the faithful servant of the Lord, can’t help but crave it.
The young man who came to me last week, his eyes brimming with tears as he confessed to a life of lust and debauchery, left me… restless. His words were like a siren’s call, beckoning me to the dark side of the soul. I found myself wondering what it would be like to succumb to the very sins he confessed. To give in to the base desires that simmer just beneath the surface of my virtuous facade. It’s a sin, I know, but oh, the temptation is sweet.
As I listen to the whispers of the penitent, I’m reminded of the time I accidentally caught a glimpse of Father Michael’s rather impressive endowment. My heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, I was transported to a world of sin and depravity. It was a fleeting moment, of course, but it left an indelible mark on my soul. And now, whenever I hear the confessions of the faithful, I’m haunted by the memories of that forbidden glimpse. Ah, the wages of sin - it’s a price I’m willing to pay, over and over again.
>Soulkyn