Sin Studies S2 E2 | Sinners are better at sex (Patreon)

Everyone is over the age of 18

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Oh man, I was fuming. Of course, I'm jealous of Brandon. Sure, he's not the church favourite like I am, but who the heck really cares about that? 

The girls love him. Fuck, being the repressed disciples of God we are, it only makes sense that we all have a thing for the bad boy. For the men, he's the cool guy that sneaks out to buy cigarettes and beer, and for the girls, he's the one that's not going to be afraid to make the first move.

I thought I had it good with Jenny. I thought she wanted the good guy that's going to end up being the good husband. 

And she's thinking about how Brandon eats pussy? When she's never even let me try that? I've dated her for a year now! 

I'm not the type to confront someone. That's not how I was raised. Somehow Jenny has spun it into my fault too, like that time she demonized me when she found out I was watching porn. It's the same looks and snickers I'm getting from her group of friends now. 

“What'd you do that got in you the dog house?” Brandon sits down next to me, and I glare at the wooden bench in front of me. 

“Nothing.” 

“Yeah? Cause they're shooting daggers over here.” Brandon has some sort of cologne on. That's got to be some sort of sin too. Obviously he just wants a girl to be turned on by it in the house of God. 

They were indeed giving me a lot of dirty looks. I'm sure Jenny told them some stupid shit like I begged to eat her out. 

“You know, they'd be so much less uptight if they just got fucked.” Brandon does an exaggerated wink at the flock of young women, and many of them roll their eyes. “There, got rid of them for you. Seriously. Doing missions should include doing them missionary, am I right?” He bumps his shoulder against mine, and it just sets me off.

“Fuck off,” I snap at him. 

“Well, damn,” he says with a slow blink. “Something bad must have happened in the bedroom. I'm just kidding around, man.” He playfully slaps me in the arm, and I return the blow without the humour. “Hey! Chill, Terence!” 

“SHHHH!” The old lady in front scolds us. 

Fuck her too. Old cunt that hasn't understood what a bible verse meant since the Second World War. 

I got up from the pew and walked out of the service. I haven't done that before, you know. So, my knees were trembling a bit knowing that I was going to get a talking to by the priest after the service. 

Whatever. 

“Yo, Terence! What gives?” Brandon trots after me. “What'd I do?” 

I went down the wooden stairs loudly. Honestly, it was dumb. It was like throwing a tantrum and hoping someone would notice. 

“Okay,” Brandon says, closing the basement door behind him. “What happened?” 

“Nothing.” 

“If you want, I can dress up as the priest and we can go into the confession booth. I would rather not though.” He unbuttons the top of his polo. “Why the fuck is it always so stuffy in here?” 

“Stop swearing,” I snap at him. He seems taken aback by how I’m talking and narrows his eyes at me. 

“Why are you acting like I fucked your girlfriend?” 

“Don't say that!” 

“Then what?” Brandon snaps back at me. 

I knew I was losing control, and I hated it. It was stronger than the strength that God gave me. 

“You poison everything here with your sin! You think you're so cool.. and you… you taint everyone else!” 

“Everyone else?” He raises one eyebrow. “What in the living hell are you even going on about?” 

I had hit a nerve. Although Brandon is the resident bad boy, I know as his friend that he does want to be a good man. And I know it hurts him that he can’t always fight his demons. 

“You're a sinner, Brandon. You've sinned with Clara and now it's spreading to everyone else. Just get out of our lives already. You don't even want to be here.” 

I hate that I said that. I said it just to hurt him, and I hate that so much. 

And I hate the way his shoulders dropped. 

But Brandon isn't a pushover. And you can’t go up to a viper and expect not to get bitten. 

He rubs the stubble on his chin and straightens his posture, holding his head up high. 

“So Jenny wants something sinful from me? You know what? I might just go give it to her,” he says, eyes piercing into me. “I think she'd open her legs for me before she does for you.” 

“Don't talk about her like that!” I yell, the blood rushing to my face. 

“And she'd want it, because I'm not a fucking church pussy like you,” he retorts.

“Shut up!” Even the tips of my ears feel hot. 

“And I'm gonna make her cum, and she'll finally know what that feels like.” 

Next thing I knew, I was gripping his shoulders, and he was gripping mine. I knew it was stupid, because Brandon is obviously heavier than me. 

That's probably why Jenny likes him too. He actually can fill out a polo shirt.

We tumble to the floor, our thrashing feet kicking the fragile metallic stands they have in the room. 

I don't even know what the end goal here is. I just know I'm supposed to hold on. 

“You… pussy!” Brandon pins me down and attempts to remove my tight grip on his shirt. I surprised myself in how determined my hold was. I manage to pull him closer, hoping that it gives me the leverage to flip him over.

But he's too heavy for me to do that. All I do is succeed in pulling him down, which does seem to use up his force since he tries to push himself back up. He tries to kick me so I naturally wrap my legs around his. Even that doesn't give me the power I need to reverse the situation.

We gas out at the same time, and he lets his weight crush me. His sweaty body presses against mine, and his quick haggard breaths match mine. The adrenaline in me tells me that this is the best opportunity to take the upper hand, but my muscles do nothing.

“AhHHh!” I shout in frustration, and his dead weight on me keeps me down. My heart pumps and I feel something shift. 

Is he… ?

Wait… 

Am I… ?

He is. I can feel it pressed against me now that I've noticed it. My own hard-on is squashed by him, making it uncomfortable to finish its process. 

“We're so fucking pent up, nothing in our goddamn brain works,” Brandon pants in my ear. I didn't have the energy to argue.

Nor do I think he's wrong. 

We stay silently in this position. The only sound I hear is him breathing heavily in my ear. 

Why the fuck am I turned on? 

Now I know Jenny meant by the stubble feeling. It's a scratch symbolic of a man. 

“Ah…” His hips move, and his boner brushes past mine. I felt it, like two logs rolling over each other. “Sorry,” he says.

Brandon lifts himself off me with effort, and I quickly shuffle to sitting up now that blood has room to fill up my cock. He definitely felt it or saw it. 

“It happens to boxers when they spar,” he says, adjusting his groin. “And they actually get to fuck, not like us. We're not meant to live like this, Terence. I'm telling you ” 

“Yeah, well what can we do?” I tuck my cross back into my shirt. 

“Well first of all, stop blaming me for it.” Brandon unbuttons the rest of his polo and fans out his shirt. “But I can teach you how to make Jenny happy.”