A well-hung and generous priest

The archbishop of Toronto ordained Marcel Dupont, 24, in June 1956. This was a time where priests were literally put on pedestal, especially in French-Canadian villages. Marcel’s first obedience or posting was assistant pastor in a small town near Lake Huron.

Marcel had grown up in a religious family, along with a twin sister, no brothers. At puberty, his mother told his father that she would have a personal talk with Marcella, and that he should do the same with Marcel. But daddy and son never had a discussion about the birds and the bees, so to speak.

When Marcel entered seminary, he had to choose a spiritual director. Father Edmund Brown (originally Edmond Lebrun) was a handsome and athletic man who did not wear a cassock when doing counselling in his office. He liked to show off his biceps, and exhibit a well-endowed crotch, especially to newcomers like Marcel. Spiritual directors heard the confession of seminarians and answered any questions of morality, prompting them if necessary.

“Tell me, Marcel, do you sometimes have impure thoughts or caress your weinee to get pleasure?”

“Sometimes, but not more than once a month, I swear.”

“No need to swear, it’s a natural urge. The Church says that it’s a sin, but certainly not a mortal one. Venial sins like that need not cause concern. Do you have any special subject you would like to raise…” Father Brown got up, locked the door, and sat closer to Marcel. “Around sexuality, for example?”

“Well, I would like to know… hum… how babies are made.”

“Your parents never had a talk with you on this topic when you became a teenager?”

“No, when I asked my mother, she told me that my father would answer that kind of question, but he brushed it off, saying I would learn enough about sex in the school yard.”

“And you obviously didn’t. Well, in a nutshell, babies are the result of intercourse. A man has a penis and a woman has a vagina. One is made to give, the other to receive. Do you understand?”

“Not clearly, to be honest” blushed the 18-year old virgin.

It was not the first time that Father Brown gave a vague reply to that type of question. It was done on purpose, as a stepping stone toward a practical illustration. He put his hand on Marcel’s crotch, caressed his weenie and asked him to imagine that the mouth of his spiritual director represented the vagina, ready to receive. He pulled down Marcel’s trousers and directed the erect pink cut dick towards his mouth, slowly licking it, then sucking avidly until moans of pleasure culminated in a warm explosion of nectar.

This discovery triggered a bold question on the part of Marcel: “Can I also be on the receiving end?” Father Brown was not surprised by such a request. His well-orchestrated scenario always followed that type of script. He positioned himself to shove his thick joystick in Marcel’s mouth, indicating that he was not obliged to swallow the sperm but that it had a nice salty taste. Marcel first choked on the massive offering, then gradually got a hold of the shove-it-in-shove-it-out technique. But he withdrew his mouth when Father Brown’s moaning announced a cumming splash. His face was abundantly creamed.

The young seminarian met his spiritual-sexual director once a week, learning more about man-to-man pleasure. He found out that 69 was not an ordinary number, that the ass was not a dirty place but rather a satanic haven. Marcel had no inclination towards fucking, but enjoyed getting rimmed and eating his sexual director’s ass. He joked about Father Brown having a succulent brown hole.

* * *

By the time Marcel Dupont was ordained, he already had the reputation of a well-hung and generous man. The bishop ignored gossips of that nature, brushing them off as envious comments. The young Father Dupont was now a handsome muscular priest warmly welcomed by a flock of obedient parishioners. Some cute young ladies deplored, however, that he kept his distance towards the other sex. Probably because of his vow of chastity, they imagined.  

Father Marcel volunteered to organize a baseball club for 18-year old boys. He noticed that one teenager, Alfred, was often called names like sissy, fag or even cock-sucker. At confession, the assistant pastor was inclined to dismiss impure thoughts and even solitary pleasure. But when it was Alfred’s turn to enter the confessional, Father Marcel grilled him more aggressively on the Sixth Commandment: “Thou shall not commit adultery.” It didn’t matter at all if Alfred masturbated. Father Dupont wanted to know if the teenager was thinking of a male or a female partner in those cases. The answer was exactly what the young priest wanted to hear.

“As a penance, I give you the choice to do the Stations of the Cross or to come and clean my private bathroom in the presbytery.” Again, the answer was exactly what the young priest wanted to hear. He welcomed Alfred one Friday evening when the pastor was out attending a social gathering for the Women’s Auxiliary League. Father Marcel obviously planned his approach; like Father Brown at the seminary, he had a well-orchestrated scenario deemed to follow a well-thought script.

When buying equipment for the baseball club, Father Marcel noticed a rack of jockstraps with an illustration of how to wear them. It was so damn sexy, he thought, but no players on the team ever wore them. He bought a white and a black one, large for himself, medium for a “repentant sinner”. As soon as Alfred arrived, he was ushered to the bathroom and asked to remove his clothes. “You will be more comfortable wearing this athletic gear”, said Father Marcel. The teenager had no idea what a jockstrap was and how to wear it. Father Marcel pulled down his jogging shorts to show his bulging black jockstrap, and gave Alfred a hand to don the white gear, taking time and pleasure to feel the boy’s jewels.

“I think my dick will get hard, Father, whispered the not so shy teenager. To be honest and maybe blunt, your massage is sending exciting shocks in my pouch.”

“Feel mine, Son, try brushing your pouch against mine, and don’t hesitate to grab my ass to exert pressure.”

In no time, Father and Son were wrestling on the bedroom carpet, sniffing each other’s virile pouch, slapping each other’s firm ass, embracing and caressing wildly. The young priest was pretty sure that there was some truth behind the cock sucker tease inflicted on the baseball player. He managed to drag Alfred on the bed, and to switch into a comfortable 69 position. No directions had to be given. They naturally sucked each other’s cocks and balls.

On one hand, Father Marcel was delighted to savor a circumcised cock and almost hairless testicles. On the other hand, Alfred discovered a penis almost twice the size of his and a bit different because it was uncircumcised. In addition, the nuts were covered with hair. “So virile!”, he thought.

As with Father Brown at the seminary, the assistant pastor did not swallow his partner’s sperm. Alfred’s pistol shot all over the carpet. “Your penance will be to clean here rather than in the bathroom.”

Alfred went regularly to confession, always waiting for the Marcel Dupont sign on the door. He asked forgiveness for sins against the Sixth Commandment and received the expected penance. Alfred and Marcel kissed passionately behind closed doors, showered together while having soapy fun, donned their jockstrap, and engaged feverously in what Marcel considered to be la crème de la crème in man-to-man pleasure: eating your partner’s ass.

To sniff a round rump roast, to bite a peachy butt, to lick a hairy crack, to tickle a succulent rosebud, to tongue-twist inside a satanic haven… Hosanna, hosanna! You are worthy of all our praises!