I went back to work the next morning, still somewhat in a numb daze. The captain was all grins from ear to ear.
"Well, how was the secret ceremony?" he asked.
"It was fascinating, awesome. But I wouldn't do it again."
"Too bad the Williams boys and their dad couldn't make it," the captain said.
"I didn't see Mr. Williams or the younger son, but Todd was there."
He gave me a funny, scowling look. "You must've been dreaming, or drunk. They all flew out just hours after we brought the boat in, some kind of emergency back home."
"Are you sure? I.....I c-could've sworn I....I saw Todd." I almost blurted that he was the one who fucked me but I didn't.
"Wasn't him," the captain declared. "I ferried them to the airstrip myself and got them on the plane."
I stood there, too stunned to speak as I tried to fight through my bewildered state to try to put it all in perspective in some logical meaning. I felt dizzy; butterflies in my stomach. I heard the captain's voice calling my name but I couldn't answer. It came again and I turned to look at him.
"Are you feeling all right, boy? You look awfully pale all of a sudden."
"I.....d-don't know, I feel.....sorta funny....."
"Do you want to go below for a little bit? Or if you're sick it's only going to be worse out on the water. Maybe you'd better go back home and skip it for today."
"But what about......you can't do both jobs," I managed.
"I'll get Sammy. He doesn't have your, uh....charms....but he'll get us through a day of fishing."
"All right, thanks." I left but I didn't go home. There was so much I had to come to grips with, so much I needed to sort out. I couldn't bring myself out of the zombie like stupor. I kept going over and over it in my mind. I felt I was going crazy.
I had always wondered that Justin had not taken the journey, that he still lingered. I was convinced of it now, convinced that somehow he had stayed close and had returned, through the mystery of the ceremony, to make love to me one more time. I couldn't imagine how that could be but I was convinced that's what'd happened.
I knew of a gay friendly church outside a small village on the other side of the island. Most did not speak well of the young priest there. I had not thought one way or the other of him till now. I decided I should talk to him. What did I have to lose; and I had nowhere else to turn at the moment. I walked to a rental place, rented a bicycle and ventured off.
There was a wood, hand-lettered sign at the end of a narrow lane with a picture of a church and the words "All Welcome." and smaller letters below that, "Fr. Amos Johns." I rode down the lane about a quarter mile to an opening in the trees where the church stood, along with a small house and a couple of out buildings. There was a man in shorts working in the garden. I took him to be the caretaker. He heard the crunch of my bike tires and turned around. He was young, in his thirties, and muscular as I could see as he was wearing shorts. He was good looking in an American sort of way. He wasn't a native of the island. He set the handle of the hoe in the dirt and waited for me to ride up to him.
"Hi, I'm looking for Father Johns."
"You found him," he said.
"Oh.....you're Fr. Johns," I said blinking with surprise.
"Yes, you've caught me on my out-of-garb day," he said. "What can I do for you."
"I need to talk about something, to somebody," I said nervously.
"Most people who come here do."
"I've heard of you and your church," I said.
"Not favorable, I'm sure," he said with a gorgeous smile. "Let me wash up and get in uniform. Go have a seat over there in the I'll bring out some lemonade, or would you rather have iced tea?"
"Either one is fine." I wanted to tell him he didn't have to, he was fine just the way he was, but I didn't think it would be appropriate.
He was quick about washing up, or maybe he took a quick shower. He came out carrying a tray with a pitcher of lemonade and glasses of ice. He set the tray on the table and poured us each a glass then took the other bamboo chair. He raised his glass with a nod that I took that I should begin. But then he stopped me.
"Before we get started, I should first tell you that our church is not a Roman Catholic Church. I am an ordained priest, I celebrate Mass, I hear confessions, perform marriages and I have buried three souls, but I am not in concert with the Mother Church. I suppose I might be defrocked but for the fact that I don't have a large following and we are in such a remote part of the world so far away from The Vatican. I'm small potatoes, not worth bothering with. So, if you're okay with that......." He gave me another nod with his glass.
"I'm fine with it, I'm not here for any of the above," I said. "I just need to talk to someone with a theology background.
"Are you Catholic?" he asked. "Just so I know how to address your concerns."
"I am by name, but not by trade," I said. "Maybe that will change, though. First I want to say that I believe in the spirit world."
"You believe in ghosts, like in haunted houses."
"No, not.....well, yes, I guess I do. I mean, yes, I believe a house can be haunted like by the spirit of someone who died there not wanting to leave. I mean, I believe when you die your spirit goes somewhere."
"Heaven or hell are the only two places; maybe purgatory thrown in," he said, sounding as if he didn't really believe in the latter.
"What I wonder is, is it an instantaneous occurrence, or is there a journey to get to heaven or hell? I've heard of people feeling the flames of hell as they are dying, and people seeing the light of heaven, but I've also read of a journey."
"We can't be sure. Perhaps the spirit itself has something to do with that," he said.
"You mean, like a choice."
"We don't know what powers the spirit has, where there is still the power of a free will. I've always thought there is a process, if you will, a period of enlightenment right after death, like.....Wow, I've died, what do I do now? I've never done this before. You could well be right. A person's spirit remaining in a house for example. It does not want to make the journey yet. Yes, I suppose a choice."
"Can a spirit do physical things?" I asked.
"Do physical things? Or more correctly, cause physical things to happen? Like causing objects to move about a room. Yes, I believe that is quite possible. There is great evidence of it, in fact. And the Church does perform exorcisms."
"Have you heard of mysterious rituals being held at various locations on the island, Father?"
"I have heard it is quite a lucrative tourist attraction," he said with a smile. His smile turned into a frown. "Have you been to one?" he asked with a note of shock.
"And what did you encounter there that brought you to me?"
"I should have told you first.....I am gay. Very gay."
"And what is the significance of being very gay over being just gay?" he asked.
"I'm gay without guilt, without apology or equivocation, I guess you could say." I didn't want to say to a priest that I loved gay sex and being fucked so much that he would probably consider me a slut.
"I suppose that is the best way to be whoever you are, without equivocation, and you certainly should never feel guilty or apologize for being what God made you," he said. "So what did you encounter at this ceremony?"
I began telling him about the ceremony, how I was chosen, along with two younger boys, and prepared and presented in a white linen gown. and how the first boy was taken. I used the word taken.
"If we are going to talk about this, we need to be candid. Don't worry, I know all the words. I hear confessions, you know. This was a sexual ceremony."
"Yes. Sex was the purpose of it all."
"So the boy was fucked. Was it rape?" he asked.
"No, no one was raped," I assured him. "In fact, the first boy who was initiated--fucked--had his father standing beside him at the head of the altar holding his hand. I'm sure there were other dads and sons there. In fact, a father and his two sons that we took out on a fishing boat were supposed to be there but they had to leave for an emergency." When I mentioned an altar he frowned again and interrupted me.
"Please tell me you did not take part in a clandestine, illicit religious ceremony mocking the Church."
"No, it was not a religious ceremony. There was no Black Mass. There was no mention of God, even, except about His dominion over man and how He created men and boys to be who we are. The man who ran it, someone called him the high priest, but there was nothing priestly about him. I mean, he didn't pretend to be a priest or anyone religious."
Father Johns nodded and sipped his lemonade, waiting for me to go on.
"The first boy, the one with his father, lost his virginity on what they called the altar. I heard the man say he was there to lose his virginity."
"But it was not his father who took it."
"No, it was another man, the father held his son's hand while it was happening."
"Well, that is one consolation, I suppose."
"He did offer......when the boy was moaning so loudly, the father offered his cock to help keep him quiet," I said. I wasn't sure I should have told him that. "I know I should perhaps feel guilty about it, Father. but I have to truthfully admit, I watched it with as much excitement as any of the others."
"Not surprising, you were there for the same reason as the others," he said.
"That's when I first saw him."
"The person I came to talk to you about." I paused to gather my thoughts. "I've started in the middle of the story, Father. I should give you some background." I told him about Justin and how he took my virginity in the shower back in high school. "That led to me becoming more or less the team whore," I said. "I can't feel any remorse for any of it even now. I was doing everybody a good turn and I was loving it at the same time." I went on to tell him about Justin's death, and how I was his father's lover now, living with him in St. Thomas. I paused to see what he might say.
"You're not making a confession and I'm not here to judge you. Go on."
"Well, this really handsome young guy came into the light with some shadows around so I couldn't see him really well, but good enough that he looked like.....everything about him looked like Justin, that's what drew my attention to him. Especially his eyes. He had such penetrating eyes. It was almost frightening how much he looked like my friend. I looked away but I was compelled to look back and when I did he was looking right at me. Of course it was the other boy from the boat, Todd, I knew that. But I didn't know why Todd would be looking at me like that. And I never saw his father or younger brother and they were all supposed to come together. He looked so much like him I even said his name to myself. 'Justin', I said. He kept looking at me and it was so intense that I couldn't move from the spot. I wanted to go around to the other side of the altar to him but it was like he was exuding some power that kept me where I was standing. Then I glanced away for some reason and when I looked back he wasn't there. I went looking for him but he was nowhere to be found. It was like he vanished into thin air." I paused for a moment then asked, "Am I crazy yet, Father?"
"No, not at all. Go on."
"When it was finished, with the boy, the altar was washed down--purified, they called it--and they brought another boy. He was a little older than the first one but not much. Maybe seventeen. It was a huge black man who took him. I mean huge. His cock was like a baseball bat. I was worried he would hurt the boy, seriously. The boy didn't seem worried, but I didn't know if he saw how big the man was till he was going in him and then it was too late. But he didn't fight him. I don't know who the boy was with but no one tried to stop it. The man wasn't brutal, he was just huge."
"When he was finished the altar was purified again, then I knew it was my turn. It was funny, I didn't realize I was one of the chosen ones till the second boy was brought forth in a gown like I was wearing. We were each escorted to the altar by these two big, very muscular men, like they were afraid we might try to bolt and run. I was wondering who my initiator would be.....even wondering why I was chosen and how the initiators were chosen. I waited for what seemed like several minutes before anyone came forward. Then I saw him making his way from back in the dark shadows. I was stunned to see that it was the young guy I'd lost.....Todd, or Justin, I don't know which to call him. I tried to bury my wild thoughts, that it could actually be Justin returned, even though I still wondered why I had not seen Todd's father and brother. But, logically, I thought maybe he'd come by himself."
"When he came up to me there was that same penetrating look in his eyes as before. It sent chills through me. Neither of us spoke. He wasn't like the others, where the assistants removed the gowns and applied the lubrication. He took my gown off of me himself and his cock provided its own natural lubrication. When I was naked he laid me back on the altar and put the folded gown under my head. He didn't say anything the whole time. That made me wonder too; if it was Justin returned, why would he not speak to me? Or maybe he couldn't, not able to speak. I didn't say anything either, because I.....I wasn't completely sure who I would be talking to. I could hear his breathing."
"He was unlike the others in so many ways. The others, they just stepped up and fucked the boys. It was all about their own pleasure. He treated me like he cared for my feelings too.....like he knew me and understood my feelings. Things like, he kissed my stomach. That in itself surprised everybody. Someone said, 'He's going to make love to him,' and that's what it was like, more than just sex. A certain way the light shone in his eyes I could see the moisture there, like he was about to cry. He kissed me all over my stomach and my chest, and even my armpits, then he kissed me for real, on the mouth, even with his tongue. It really was like he was making love to me as he......" I had to stop and choke down my emotions. "As he had so many times before."
"It was all very familiar to you then, how he treated you," the priest said.
"Oh yes, very. I can't count how many times we made love before he.....died. By this time I was thinking, Oh, Godd, and I was conjuring up images that it really was Justin somehow brought back from the afterlife. That he had lingered back for just this moment in time. One more time before he went on his eternal journey. I closed my eyes and tried desperately to keep the images alive, I couldn't bear it not being so. I wanted to confirm it to be true. I started to speak the name Todd so if it was him he would know I recognized him from the boat and maybe he would recognize me. But in the end, I didn't. I think I was afraid he might answer me and BE Todd and I didn't want that."
"He took his position, proudly I thought, and entered me. I was amazed that there was no pain, not even a little bit. There is always some pain. That's when I opened my eyes and I was shocked that I gasped his name, "Oh, God, Justin" I said, and the instant I said his name I felt his cock lurch inside me. Then it struck me that he didn't say anything when I said his name. If it was Todd, he surely would have said something to correct me. Then I wondered, perhaps the reason he never said anything was because......can spirits speak, Father? I know the angels go, as messengers of God, but what about ordinary spirits."
"I can't answer that."
"The whole time he fucked me he kept kissing me, on the mouth and all over my face and neck. He even kissed the palm of my hand. It was odd, his breathing was steady, like he never got excited enough to breath hard. And I couldn't feel or hear his heartbeat, mine was thudding. Maybe it was my own breathing I heard, but I was more excited than that. Spirits don't have lungs or a heart, the organs are left behind in the body. They have no need of breath or blood. I'm confusing myself, Father."
"On the contrary, I think you are un-confusing yourself," he said as he put more ice in my glass then filled it again with lemonade. He filled his own then nodded for me to continue.
"I'm not crazy, Father," I interrupted. "I'm not crazy, and I wasn't dreaming. I had to walk all the way back that night, I wasn't dreaming. And I felt him, a physical being. I saw his eyes. I might have seen into his soul. I felt his body, his muscles. I felt his cock inside me. I felt his cum shooting in me. I.....I even tasted it, Father. There was so much of it, I.....I caught some in my hand, quite a lot really, and I....I tasted....all of it real. It was real. It was his cum. I should know, I've tasted about a gallon of it. I want to believe he came back to fuck me....make love to me....one more time before he began his journey."
"If you want to believe it, if you do believe it, that it happened the way you told me, then it must be true. And I have to believe that a spirit can indeed come back and do things physical, because you told a very convincing story. But....you must wait and see if what you believe is true."
"What do you mean? Wait on what? I just told you how real it was."
"You said you believe he came to make love to you before beginning his journey. If you do not see him again, if you do not feel his presence again.....then I would say you are obliged to believe."
There was a long silence. Only the birds around us and the tinkling of ice in our glasses.
"Thank you, Father," I said finally.
"I only listened," he said.
"What if....what if he comes back?" I asked.
"I wouldn't entertain that notion too vigorously," he said in a cautionary tone. I gave him a scowl. "You have your truth. Be happy with it."
"Yes, I suppose you're right."
"You loved him," Father Johns said.
"What about the man you're living with, the boy's father?"
"I love him too. I think he will be my love for life."
"Have you told him about this?" he asked.
"No. I think it would upset him."
"Or he might think you're crazy."
"No, he would believe me. How about you, Father? How did you come to be here, operating a gay friendly church outside the loving arms of the Holy Roman Catholic Church?"
"I got out of the seminary and was given a cruise to the islands by my uncle as a graduation gift. He said I should do one more thing worldly before I put on the chastity belt. I told him I had already taken the vow of chastity. He said vows were made to be broken. He should know, he's been married five times. Well, I took his advice and did one more worldly thing. Two, actually. I had already missed my boat back to continue on with the cruise so I decided to make the best of it."
"I had a one day fling with a young boy of eighteen who got off the next cruise ship that docked. He was very handsome, very built and very hung. He too was on a graduation-gift cruise given him by his uncle. We met over a cold drink at an outdoor café and we just happened to hit it off. I wasn't wearing my collar so he didn't know I was a priest. We were at separate tables at first, it was on a balcony overlooking the street, and our eyes kept meeting. We spoke and started talking and I asked him to join me at my table. There was some bare kneesies under the table and he asked me if I was on the ship, maybe he could come to my cabin. I told him no, I was on the island but I would get us a place if he wanted to skip the sightseeing. He said he was seeing the sights he wanted to see, he just wanted to see more. I checked us into a nice little hotel and we fucked each other's brains out till it was time for him to return to the ship. He graduated out of his virginity, he said."
"Well, I was trying to figure out how to ask if you're gay," I said.
"Yes, but not in open admission till then," he said. "I don't know if that encounter had anything to do with it--I never saw or heard from him again--but I fell in love with St. Thomas. I was still wrestling with the gay thing.....not myself being gay, but the church's stand on it and her teachings, and how I was to fit into all of that. It all seemed to fly in the face of truth, that the church can teach that you can be gay but you can't ever act on it. They don't apply that teaching to heterosexuals. And I could never grasp why a bunch of sexless old men had the right to dictate things sexual to anyone. What do they possibly have to bring to the table, except perhaps a boyhood tryst or two, and what-might-have-beens? Besides that," he said with a shrug, "I'd spent a whole day breaking one of my new vows and corrupting another poor gay boy so how could I possibly tow the line. But there was all those years of study in the seminary, all the time and money invested and all the theology soaked into my brain, I wanted to still put it to good use. Thus, the church," he said with a wave of his hand toward the structure. "And the collar," he added, tugging on his collar. "I daresay, I am doing much more good here than I could've ever done under the heavy hand of the bishop."
I was looking at his hands as he talked. He had big hands, long, thick fingers. His hands and fingers were almost muscular and I wondered if he was an athlete. I glanced up at him and saw that he'd noticed me looking at him.
"I can see that you have another question you want to ask," he said.
"I do, actually, if I dare ask it of a priest....if a priest...."
"If you ask it, would I dare not answer it?" he asked.
There was a quite pause, as if each of us was waiting for the other to speak. Finally, I did. I couldn't help not ask.
"I'm sitting here wondering......what it would take to get you out of that priestly garb and back into those sexy shorts you were wearing when I rode up." I held my breath, I think I was waiting for God to strike me dead. But I continued to breathe and my heart continued to pound in my chest.
He stood up. "Come."
I followed him into the small church, knowing I'd said the absolute wrong thing, thinking I was going to be dragged into the confessional or at the very least, get a priestly lecture. It was darker and cooler in the church where the stained glass windows blocked the sunlight. He set a heavy chair against the door and motioned me into the back pew. I stumbled over the kneeling bench and sat down, preparing myself for the worst. He stepped into the pew with me and stood on the kneeling bench facing me. I was surprised to see him remove his collar and toss it on the seat; shocked as he began unsnapping his cassock. Oh God, I thought, we're going to do it right there in the church!! I was as frightened as I was excited. My eyes followed his big, sexy hands as they went down the row of snaps. He wasn't wearing a shirt under the cassock. Part way down I looked up and he was smiling. When I looked down again the buttons were parted enough that I could see he wasn't wearing any shorts either. He was naked under the cassock! He parted the cassock and rested his butt on the back of the next pew, offering himself to me.
I was so excited my heart was pounding, I think partly because this was happening with a priest! And in a church! His cock hung heavy out over his balls, thick and meaty. My mouth started watering and I had to swallow the excess spit. It was loud and he heard me and he laughed softly. He reached down with one hand and lifted his cock onto his palm, his other hand folded gently around the back of my head.
"Take it if you want it," he said.
"Yesss," I whispered, nodding.
He didn't force me in the least, it was more his hand guiding my head as I leaned and kissed the wide, bulbous head of his cock with a reverence that I somehow thought was due a priest.
"You have a beautiful cock," I murmured.
His "Thank you" was cut off by a soft moan as I scooped up his cock with my tongue. There was a strong pulsation and he began to grow in my mouth. I pressed my face into his pubes and locked my lips around the base of his cock. I managed to swallow it and let it grow and expand into my throat. I loved doing that to heavy hung guys, then pulling back to see how big they get. From the feel of it snaking deeper and deeper into my throat, he was going to be big. When he was hard and throbbing I slowly pulled back, pleasantly surprised at the length of thick, hard cock that was gradually exposed. I guessed him to be close to nine inches.
"Geezuss, how do you do that?" he asked huskily.
"Seeing it, I don't know," I said as I stroked his slick cock. I cupped his balls in my other hand and kissed and licked them.
"Ohh, how did you know I like that," he moaned softly.
"Don't all priests like to have their balls licked?" I joked, then I went down on his cock.
"Oh, Yessss," he whispered as he clasped both hands lightly around my head.
I gave him a good blowjob, the best I could, not just in consideration of who he was, but he had such a big, beautiful cock. Several times he eased me off when he was getting close. He said he didn't want to come so quickly. For some reason I thought of where we were and asked him if he thought it was safe with just the chair in front of the door.
"It doesn't have a lock," he said.
"It's not a time for what-ifs. It's a time for who-cares."
Satisfied with his logic, I went back to sucking his cock. He thoroughly enjoyed it and so did I. I wondered how many of his parishioners or visitors he did this with.
After a while he brushed his hand over the top of my head and said, "You said you liked to be fucked."
He brought me to my feet and stepped down off the kneeling bench and turned me around facing the front of the church. I kept my head lowered, avoiding looking at the altar or the grotto with its flickering candles and the statues of the saints. I had the fearful, fleeting thought that I might be turned into a pillar of salt if I looked. Fr. Johns' hands reached around me and deftly undid my shorts. He pulled them down and I felt his hot breath on my butt, seconds before I felt his tongue lapping up the crack of my ass.
"Ohh, Godd!" I moaned as he forced his tongue into the crack to find my hole. Once he'd touched base he pulled my butt apart and began tonguing my asshole. I couldn't help the whimpering moans but I didn't cry out 'Ohh, Godd' again.
When he had me wet and trembling with excitement he rose up and positioned the head of his cock against my clenching hole. "Do you want to utter a small prayer first?" he asked with a soft chuckle as he clasped his hands around my hip bones.
"Would it make your cock smaller?" I joked back.
"I think you'll like it once you have it in you."
"Oh, I know I will, it's just the anticipation of being impaled," I said.
He must have noticed how I kept avoiding looking at the side altars or the front of the church. I thought he was about to enter me but instead he dropped more spit my crack and began sliding his cock along the crack of my ass as he dug his fingers in my hair and gently lifted my head.
"It's okay to look," he said. "The two saints at the side altar are St. Sergius and St. Baachus. They were very brave and courageous warriors in the fourth century, held in very high honor till it was discovered that they were Christians. They were also gay lovers. They died the deaths of martyrs."
He spoke as if he were teaching catechism, all the while stroking is cock in the crack of my ass.
I had never heard of gay saints. "I wonder if the church knew they were gay," I said.
"Just know that you are not alone, here or in heaven," he said. And with that he positioned his cock against my hole.
He was right, I liked it from the moment he began shoving it in. He wasn't the biggest or the only big cock I'd had in my ass, but the way he used it sent me into ecstasy. Maybe it was where we were, or the position I was in, bent over a church pew, or maybe it was who he was; I was being fucked by a holy man.
"Ohh.....Ohh, yeah....do it, Father Johns.....fuck me," I moaned, and I didn't avert my eyes from the two saints.
He didn't need my encouragement but I wanted to let him know how much I liked what he was doing. It was neat, too, the way he wrapped his cassock around me like a cloak, as if to conceal what we were doing.
He fucked me hard, slamming into me. It was a good thing the pews were screwed to the floor. I was limp over the back of the pew, like a rag doll, holding onto the edge of the seat in front of me. He stood on the kneeling bench and fucked me higher and I grabbed hold of the back of the pew in front of me and then the kneeling bench. After a while he eased up and pulled me back and turned me around. He maneuvered me onto my knees in the pew. I braced myself for his hard onslaught. It was a better position for both of us but the bench was hard on my knees.
He loved to change positions. He turned us around again and set me on the back of the pew in front of us but it was hard to keep our balance. Finally, he sat down and pulled me down on his lap. It was a good position, I could hold onto the back of the pew in front of me and fuck back on his cock.
"Godd, you're a great fuck," he said. But he eased me up off of his cock. "Turn around."
I turned around and he guided me to stand on the pew and sit down again on his cock, this time facing him. I liked this position best because I could watch his face and his muscles. He brought his legs up and spread them out wide and rested his feet on the edge of the pew. On my knees, it formed a cradle for me on his body.
"Ahhh, yess, this is great," he said. "Ride me, fuck yourself crazy. Let's ride it out over the top."
He wanted to come; so did I. The buildup was so intense my body cried out for relief and I knew it was going to be a stupendous come for both of us. I was able to watch his face and judge his buildup. As his tanned, handsome face contorted and his mouth grew slack I knew he was on the verge. I rode him harder, slamming my butt down against him. When I thought he was there I sat hard and rotated my butt back and forth and in little circles, causing his cock to spear and lob around inside me. He spread his arms across the back of the pew and laid his head back it total submission.
I tried to hold off till he came but he beat me to it. His hips lurched and I felt the heat of his cum spurting up inside me.
"Ohh, Sweet St. Baachus! Sweet St. Sergius!" he cried out softly.
The thought that this young man of God was breeding me sent me trembling over the top and I belched out big ropes of thick cum all over his chest and shoulders and neck and under his chin. Some streaked onto his cassock and I heard some of it splat on the pew behind us.
Fr. Johns let his arms drop behind the back of the pew. "My Godd, that was incredible," he said.
"Yes, it was pretty awesome," I agreed.
He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me down tight against him. He felt good.
"Can I ask you something?"
"How do you reconcile this with your vow of chastity?"
"I consider that vow pertains to sex with women," he said. Then he smiled. "Interesting that you would ask that and make no mention of reconciling having sex with a priest and doing it in a church."
"That may haunt me for a while, except......"
"Except what?" he asked.
"You cried out to the saints."
"You don't think they deserve recognition and thanks for providing us with such a wonderful experience?"
"I would've never thought of it that way," I said.
"Yes, I think it still frightens you, having sex in a church with a priest. Perhaps what you should do is develop a relationship with and offer devotions to St. Sergius and St. Baachus."
"You know what's wonderful, Father? Sitting here in this position with your priest's cock still inside me, talking theology. What does one pray for to a gay saint, anyway? Good sex?" I asked.
"I suppose they could assist in that endeavor but no, I would pray for the right partner to appear, as you did."
"When you were working in the garden, were you praying for someone to come along to have sex with?" I asked.
"No, but I will certainly thank them for it. But now, we must do this again," he said.
"Yes, I would like that."
"I like to get fucked too, you know."
"All right, I would be happy to return the favor," I said.
When we had caught our breath I rose up on his cock. "It felt like you shot quite a load, it's gonna drain out all over your robes," I said.
"Everything will wash," he said, laughing.
His cum drained out of my opened ass, flooding his pubes and his upper thighs and when I stood down I saw a large pool of the stuff on his black cassock. He shrugged it off his shoulders and wadded it up as he stood up.
"You didn't do such a bad job yourself," he said, swiping at the streaks of cum I'd shot all over him.
"I think some landed on the pew behind us," I said as I was pulling up my shorts.
"Damn, you're a regular little cum launcher," he said.
"Are you going out like that?" I asked.
"The side door leads to my house," he said.
"Well, I don't know if thanks are in order, but.....thanks, I'm going away with much more than I expected."
"Don't let this screw up your head. It's not as bad as it might seem on the surface, not as bad as most would make it out to be. Go to our saints," he said, nodding to the side altars.
"What time are your Masses?"
"Every morning at 7:00; 9:30 on Sunday."
"You'll probably be seeing me from time to time."
"Good, I'll look forward to seeing you."
"Thanks again, Fr. Johns, for talking to me, and listening. And for understanding."