I hate golf! There I said it. But with a smile and a gracious thank you, I now find myself standing outside on God’s green grass, under God’s blue sky trying to hit a tiny ball as far as possible. ‘Fit in with your flock. Let them know you are a man of god, but also a man of the people.’ These wise words came from Father Drake as I stepped out of seminary school after five years at the young age of twenty five, almost thirty five years ago. Wise words that had now put me here on a golf course with one of my ‘flock’ and they say Satan has the wicked humour.
“Oh, too bad father,” James says with a tiny smirk on his face, “cut that one a little too far to the left.” He shrugs and moves himself into position to hit the ball off his tee.
As one of God’s messengers I find myself biting my tongue more often than I really should in front of this man. ‘God give me strength’ I think to myself and find myself smiling at my situation in no time at all, Jesus would have hated golf, I did not need five years of studying to know that. I shouldn’t really complain though as the man four feet from me wiggles his hips preposterously, a club gripped delicately in his hands, if only he held his wife that way, perhaps I would not be in my current position. With his back to me, I move my own hips preposterously as the elastic of his wife’s knickers dig into my waist and thigh. I wonder how a priest could get himself in such a situation and all I can do is blame it on meeting Kate only a few weeks before…
My first sermon had gone well, the nerves held off long enough for me to get through all the psalms for that Sunday and even through some of the hymns, the ones I didn’t mime to due to my shaky voice that is. The sky was a dull grey, rain had threatened to fall all day and as my congregation began to walk sombrely out of the church I greeted them all with a cheery smile and a handshake. Names came thick and fast, many I still do not remember. James introduced himself with a firm handshake and a big smile, his wife came next. I smile and try and hold her eyes but I am weak and as with others that stepped before her I glance down fleetingly taking in her shape, a cream blouse top few buttons undone a trace of cleavage, I swallow hard forcing my eyes back, “A pleasure to meet you too Kate,” I say, she holds my hand gently, fingers warm on my sweaty palm her eyes dart sideways watching her husband walking off talking to another man, then her eyes come back to me and she leans in, I try not to but I inhale her perfume.
“Father, may I ask you something?” Kate’s voice is quiet with a soft lilt. I nod and she continues, “It has been a while since my last confession. Father Brentford left almost two weeks ago and you have been so busy this week moving in,” her eyes stay locked on mine, there is passion in this woman, even a priest of sixty years of age can feel it, Kate is a woman of God but also a sinner I cannot but help feel pity for her…but also something else.
“My child, my door is always open, day or night,” I find myself perplexed at that, ‘day or night’? Who gives confession at night? “You only need to ask.”
That night I consult the good book, I have not been plagued by such thoughts in such a long time, thoughts that would shame any priest my age or younger. I had spent the remainder of Sunday with Kate on my mind, at first I simply prayed for her, such anguish in the eyes but also that fiery passion that could not be hidden. I felt that perhaps Kate was tormented by weakness of the soul. But those thoughts were not the ones that drove me to my old Bible. My shameful thoughts made me grab the good Book, weakness of the soul affects us all, even I. I found myself daydreaming as one does on any lazy day, but my dreams were shameful. Kate unbound and naked, her hands and fingers exploring her hot naked flesh, dipping into regions a priest my age should have no concern with, yet I found myself aroused. I was ashamed of such a reaction but powerless to stop myself. I sat myself in my study, behind locked door my trousers open and my cock exposed.
The swollen, veiny mass pulsed and throbbed with a heat I had spent long years suppressing, yet one touch of a woman, one lingering glance had undone my contrition. I found myself gripping my cock in one hand, eyes closed as Kate spread naked in my head, one hand parting her wet labia and urging me forward, her eyes hungry for my rampant cock. I shuddered within mere seconds and felt my testicles spasm for the first time in years. I let out a strangled cry as my hot shame erupted forth splattering my desk with thick streams. The release was like nothing I had felt before, my body was on fire and my fist gripped my cock tightly pumping slowly, forcing as much of my seed from me as possible.
My trousers caught the next load, landing warm and almost white against the black of my trousers, how long I stayed like that I do not know, but when I finally uncurled my now very sticky fingers I had covered the desk, most of Escort bayan my left leg and my right hand in a heavy, sticky mess. I shuddered with shame or release I still do not know and quickly began to clean up with the tissues that sat on my desk, the air around me felt hot and fetid, a tangy strange smell in the air and I wondered if this was the heat and smell that father Halide talked about when he told us the stories of the terrible brothels he had visited in South America as he tried to get those poor women to repent and be clean.
By Wednesday afternoon my lapse had all but been forgotten in the daylight, the evenings I spent kneeling in the church, before the Alter my atonement I felt was not to be as quickly received. On this afternoon I was busy cleaning up after the local Women’s institute had visited for their weekly get together. They were a good bunch of ladies, well-mannered and well versed in the Good Book, well almost, a slight slip up here and there and one meaning completely lost on them, better than most ladies groups I had chatted to before though. “Excuse me,” The voice came from the church door, I stood up and turned a smile coming easily to my face. I held the smile with great strength as Kate walked meekly down the aisle towards me. “Afternoon Father.” She said politely.
“Why hello Kate,” as we shook hands I closed both my hands around her soft hand. “What brings you to church on a sunny day like this?” There was no passion in her eyes this afternoon and I almost had myself grasping at the idea that I had mistakenly seen such passion on Sunday.
Kate looked around apprehensively, “My husband is off playing golf as usual,” the last part coming out in a sigh. “You said your door was open day or night.”
I let go of her hand, “You seek a confessional my child.” Kate stifled a giggle and I found myself laughing as well at the term, what tension I felt was quickly ebbing away, washing away on a tide of easy laughter. “You will have to excuse this old priest I sometimes lapse into my old phrases.”
I once knew a priest who had terrible claustrophobia he would, in the terms of today’s youth, freak out, in the confessional box, he insisted on his side being left open much to his own congregations dismay. I on the other hand find it a comfort. The outside world cannot intrude, the darkness is soothing on the eyes and the mind allowing easy thought. The darkness also provides that much needed anonymity for many sinners. Though it was Kate, I would act the dutiful priest and allow her the anonymity that many crave for.
“Forgive me father for I have sinned, it has been almost three weeks since my last confession,” Kate’s voice was low and she spoke the words with the ease of familiarity. “I find myself confused and adrift out in the world,” I remained quiet. The sins always found their way to the surface without the aid of a priest guiding them, a far cheaper method than any therapist I know. “I have thoughts you see.” Kate paused, for a moment I wondered if she had left the confessional the silence had become so final. When she spoke again her voice was closer and louder, I looked to my right and could see her face close to the screen that separated her from me.
“James doesn’t understand you see. I am the dutiful wife and he must meet and satisfy all my needs in life. But you see father, I find myself drifting further from him. My friends, the internet there is so much to see, to hear, to read that I find myself unable to turn away, I find myself,” Kate’s voice lowered to an almost whisper that I found myself leaning forward ear pressed up against the screen, “aroused.” The word carried on hot breath that enveloped my ear, I sat up with a start it was as if the word itself was alive and had stroked my ear with phantom hands.
“The internet is a dangerous place. God’s work finds much difficulty there. Gomorrah was only a city easy to avoid for those filled with God’s love. The internet is the new Gomorrah, but now it is everywhere and avoiding it is now almost impossible. Ease yourself with the knowledge that it is a battle that many face every day. You are not alone.” I reply.
“I know I am not alone father, that is the problem. The images, oh the sights I have seen.” Kate’s voice quivered with sadness.
“Tell me Ka…” I catch myself and quickly change my wording, “Tell my child what images make you sad like this?”
“Sad?” the word comes out questioningly, “The images do not make me sad they make me, they make me. How do I say this,” silence again, I hear shuffling from the other side of the screen, I dare to look. Kate is leaning back her silhouette just visible, one arm across her eyes the other in her lap. “They excite me.” The words seemed to ooze from her mouth. “Sexually father, they excite me like James cannot. When I close my eyes I see them. Men with women taking one another, gratifying their urges.” My own eyes close and momentarily I see Kate in my mind’s eye once more, naked but now kneeling Bayan Escort before me, I hear myself pray for forgiveness as she willingly takes me into her mouth. “But not just men and women father. Oh, how I yearn when I see two women together or even a woman with more than one man.”
I bite my lip and force my eyes open, the confessional feels like a cell, the air is warm and my clothes cling to me like a second skin, Kate’s voice is quivering and now I know it is not sadness that makes it quiver but arousal. “You must be strong Kate. Unclean images are there to entice you from God’s path.”
“I know father, but that makes me want to look even more. It is terrible father but I find myself alone with these images of women touching one another, inserting things into one another and it makes me yearn to be touched…so I do.” As she talks, her voice rises and falls, her silhouette is still apart from the hand that is in her lap that moves rhythmically, surely she cannot be touching herself in my confessional is her sins that great that she has no control I wonder.
“A touch from a loved one is a good thing, but not from oneself.” I feel like a hypocrite saying these words.
“James does not want to touch me! All he cares about is his golf and toy models. I have to touch myself. Oh father it feels wonderful, it makes me alive feeling a hand on my body, I look at the men and women and want to feel their hands on me, their tongues across my breasts between my legs.” Her voice catches. I hear a slight moan being bitten back for a moment there is silence then finally heaving breathing almost panting. “Forgive me father,” Kate pants, there is more shuffling then daylight fills the confessional as the curtain is drawn back, darkness descends as the curtain falls back into place. I sit still for a moment, listening to hurried footsteps on the stone floor of the church echo off the walls, fading and then disappearing.
I remain seated as words from the good Book fill my brain filtering out my terrible thoughts as I try to will my erection to diminish like Kate’s footsteps. An hour had almost passed when I finally stepped from the confessional. I quickly head to the back of the church and to a small closet where Mrs Murphy keeps all the cleaning materials, I grab a bottle of polish, a duster and some paper towels and head back to the confessional. I pull the heavy black curtain back to reveal the inside of the sinner’s box. I stop myself unsure at what I am seeing balled up on the seat. I reach out with one shaky hand and feel cotton beneath my fingertips. I lift the item that unravels as I bring it to eye level.
A pair of white cotton knickers hangs lazily between my thumb and forefinger, inches from my face. I know that I should discard them quickly, yet I find my other hand reaching up fingers stroking across the cotton and stopping at the crotch. My breath catches and comes out in a long shuddery breath. The crotch is stained dark and slightly damp to the touch. A part of me hoped that I was imagining what Kate was doing in the confessional but the evidence before me could not be ignored.
Kate had sat in the confessional and had touched herself to orgasm through her knickers. Knickers that I now held in my hands, I knew I had to throw them out but found myself leaning in smelling the faint musky scent, my cock is alive again straining at my trousers once more. The weakness of the flesh is a terrible burden, one that I do not carry well.
I am in my bedroom when I grip my cock again. In front of the dress mirror I stand naked except for the pair of white cotton knickers that dig into my waist and thigh. My rampant cock straining at the damp front, I run my hand across the knickers feeling the hit of my cock and the dampness of Kate. I fall to my knees as my own orgasm overpowers me. My buttocks clench and my hips buck as my seed unloads into Kate’s panties, her name on my lips…oh what shame.
“Forgive me father for I have sinned.” What strange words they sound on my own tongue nowadays, I try to continue but find myself faltering, my sins over the past week have been many, I have coveted thy neighbour’s wife, Oh how I have coveted. I feel my cheeks burn with what should be shame but is in fact excitement, anticipation of perhaps another moment with my memorabilia of Kate. My cock begins to harden in my trousers. Kate’s Knickers rubbing against my engorging length, I pray quickly, stand and walk briskly to the far back of the church and the safety of my little house.
I have worn Kate’s knickers on and off for the last week. In the village on Saturday I kept them on and had an erection that ached by the time the sun set. I was in the local café when I spotted Kate and her small group of friends. Apart from Kate I knew Claire as well, she was the archetypal church goer and even now, a day before church she held herself very prim and dressed in a smart way. I found the group funny, that Kate, a truly lost Escort sinner close friends with Claire, a truly Christian, Christian. For a fleeting moment I wondered if Claire knew of Kate’s deep sins, my mouth dried at the thought of Claire naked with Kate as they explored one another, I drained my coffee quickly and left the café, my fingernails digging deep into my palms.
For my Sunday sermon though I kept the knickers safely locked away in my bedroom, it is God’s day after all and I am not depraved enough to cause such a sin on His day. Outside the congregation filed past and my words felt hollow. When James shook my hand I almost yelped out in surprise and fear, the man simply smiled and thanked me for a wonderful sermon then said, “You should join me for Golf one day father.” I quickly replied that it would be a wonderful way to spend an afternoon, a reply I regret.
Kate showed no sign of embarrassment, in fact she looked happy. “Such a lovely sermon father, you are getting quite a name around the village as well everyone has forgotten poor old Father Brentford.” Her hand felt warm in my own, her skin soft beneath my palm. “Do you do home visits father?”
“Home visits? May I ask for what purpose?” I asked.
“We have a sick relative staying with us, she is elderly and would normally go to church she claims if she does not speak to a priest soon she will go to hell.” Kate gave an easy smile that I found difficult not to return.
“Why yes of course,” James butted in. “We could play a round of golf say Tuesday then go back to our house.” He said it in such a matter of fact way as if it had all been decided, I don’t know when I had agreed but clearly I had. I should not dislike anyone yet this fellow was truly the trying type.
As the last of the congregation filtered past, I waved them on and watched the small crowds slowly start to dwindle as people headed home or to the local pub. Kate’s small group stood huddled together, Claire looked almost pale and shook her head, though a very thin smile was on her lips, the loudest of the group Karen was all smiles and wide hand gestures. My stomach turned when they all glanced in my direction briefly, they waved nonchalantly then headed in separate directions. I hope it was paranoia but I felt that perhaps I had been an important part in their conversation. I decided there and then that James must be told and that whatever was going on must be pulled into the open and exorcised. At no point had I thought about giving up Kate’s knickers though.
I hate golf! There I said it, again and for the hundredth time that day. I wonder what thrill James got from beating an inexperienced sixty year old priest at golf and was it truly worth it. The time spent with him though had solidified a thought that had been tumbling around in there for days, what to do about Kate. Originally I was going to tell James about Kate, perhaps not everything but enough for him to perhaps notice his wife once more and take matters firmly in hand. Now after spending more hours with him than I would have liked I had decided I would speak directly to Kate get her to see sense and confess to James. I would miss these knickers, but once I got home I would wash them (as I would my sins) and return them to Kate, washed free of my indiscretions (like my soul).
The home was larger than I had expected, Kate greeted us at the door and led us to the lounge. Tea was already brewed in a china teapot, steam drifted lazily from the spout evaporating and dispersing in the cooler air. After an hour of James showing me his model airplanes Kate managed to pull me free and took me upstairs to a small bedroom. The relative was a cousin of James’ she was close to ninety and I found myself shouting to be heard much to Kate’s amusement.
The old lady thanked me and seemed to drift quickly into sleep a small across her ancient face. “You certainly have a way.” Kate said admiringly.
“Put that down to thirty odd years in the service of our Lord.” I stood up from the chair next to the bed my knees popping and my joints complaining. “Now we must talk Kate, very seriously.” I tried to look very sternly but the smile on Kate’s face told me it was not working.
“I apologise for the other day father, it was…unbecoming of me and I am sure embarrassing for you.” I was surprised how easily she spoke, expecting a little denial perhaps. “I may have put you in a bit of a predicament as I think I left a personal belonging behind, I hope Mrs Murphy was not too embarrassed.”
I shook my head, “Mrs Murphy’s sensibilities are still intact. I found you ‘belongings’ not long after you left.” It was like looking at a different person suddenly, Kate’s hands dropped from being folded to in front of her fingers toying with one another, her head cocked slightly and she bit her lip in a faux pose of shame.
“I am sorry Father. I did not mean to do it.” She looked up at me still biting her lip. “Do you have them on you?” I felt flustered with the accusation and thoroughly guilty that she had guessed I was wearing them, by the time I realised she had simply asked if I had them with me the damage was done. Kate took a step forward a playful smile on her lips now, “Why Father, are you hiding something.”