The Parish Priest

≈ THE PARISH PRIEST ≈

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~ Cool shades ~

When Adamo entered the little isolated church of St. George in Chains, he was drenched with sweat: outside, the fiery mid-afternoon sun was burning hot, like only an August in Southern Sicily could be. The man tore away his wet tank, enjoying the cool shade of the small nave, and used it to dry his sweat from his massive hairy torso, his brawny shoulders and his thick, muscular neck.

He felt a bit uneasy, being half-naked in a church; he was an atheist, but he couldn’t forget his catholic education. Anyway, no one except him was supposed to be there: the small church had been closed for decades.

As a matter of fact, Adamo had been quite surprised when they called him from the episcopal curia to hire him to renovate the church: it was a very small single-nave church located in the country outside a small village counting less than 3,000 inhabitants; but for whatever reason, the curia had decided that the village needed a second parish church.

The worker looked around to check the situation: the walls had to be painted, the pews had to be cleaned and polished, the altar and the floor had to be freed from thirty years of dust. And above the altar, the two long, heavy Chains after which the church was named had to be cleaned up from the rust. He took a deep sigh and started working hard.

 

~ The new Parish Priest ~

After few days, Adamo was painting the East wall, behind the altar, when he heard a friendly voice behind him: “Good morning, sir! I’m Don Gilberto, the new parish priest…”

Adamo turned around and looked at the man; he was around his age, in his early thirties, fair complexion and straight blond hair; he was wearing a classic roman cassock, long to his calves and closed by a long line of black buttons. The long vest couldn’t conceal the wide shoulders and the muscular frame of the young man. His deep blue eyes, placed in the middle of a remarkably handsome face, were honest and sincere.

Adamo’s heart beat a little faster. He knew that young man: once they had been friends, while growing up in that small sleepy village in the middle of nowhere. But it had been many years before, and maybe the man didn’t remember him. Or maybe he didn't want to remember...

“Good morning, father” – Adamo said moving close and putting out his hand – “Welcome to St. George! I’m…”

“Adamo!” – the priest exclaimed with a smile – “What a pleasure to meet you again! It’s been years since last time! We both were so young, back then! But you’ve definitely grown up taller and… uhm… wider!” – he concluded, trying not stare too long at the muscular black-haired chest in front of him.

The worker shook hands with the priest and replied: “Well, you too have grown up, Gilberto! I was expecting an old drooling priest close to retirement, but I got a charming Adonis, instead!”

“You didn’t change, did you?” – Don Gilberto said, with an uneasy smile and withdrawing his hand; he remembered well when they were sixteen and Adamo confessed his attraction to him and tried to… do things with him.

“You didn’t, either…” – the brawny worker retorted, remembering how his blond friend fled away terrified, back then, and never wanted to meet him again. “But you must be tired” – he said, spotting a bead of sweat running down the handsome face of his old friend – “and outside is hot as hell. There’s a bedroom and a bathroom next to the sacristy, make yourself comfortable”.

Adamo went back to work, but he couldn’t concentrate on what he was doing. He always liked Gilberto, since they were teenagers, and now, after so many years, he had become so manly and handsome that, priest or not, he would’ve gladly ripped away that black cassock of his and fucked the shit out of him!

But the harsh words that Gilberto yelled at him, back then, still stung like scorching needles: “Stay away from me, abomination of nature! The flames of Sodom will consume you!” 

 

~ Guilty glimpses ~

The paint was becoming too dry, so he took the bucket and went to the sacristy to take some water. While going to the basin, he casually looked through the bedroom door, that was ajar, and had a glimpse of Gilberto, with his cassock unbuttoned; underneath, he only had a pair of white briefs and nothing else. Adamo froze, admiring with eager eyes the unusually toned body for a priest, his firm abdomen, the deep cleft between the pecs and the notable bulge stuffing the white underwear.

Gilberto turned his head to Adamo and for a moment he froze, too. His eyes, flashing with embarrassment and guilt, lowered from the man’s face to his formidable hairy chest, the bulging biceps and the strong hands, to briefly stare at the massive package constrained into his dirty black jeans.

With a visible effort, the young priest snapped himself out of his moment of confusion and rushed to close the door, holding the cassock close with his hands.

Suddenly every piece of the puzzle connected into Adamo’s mind: that day, long before, Gilberto yelled those harsh words and ran away, scared… by himself, by the attraction for his brawny friend, an attraction “against nature” that he didn’t want to feel!

Silently, Adamo took the water and went back to work. He was not angry any more with his friend, now; he rather pitied him. Anyway, his old friend had made a choice, had become a priest, giving up to his sexuality altogether, and he deeply respected his decision.

Day after day, Adamo came back to St. George in Chains to work to its renovation, while Gilberto lived in the adjacent room, going to the village to eat and buy the few things he needed. The August sun was unmerciful and even in the cool shades of the church Adamo was constantly drenched with sweat while working, so he mostly worked shirtless.

Every now and then, he spotted Gilberto fleetingly looking at him from the sacristy door, but whenever he got closer to exchange few words, the priest always rushed inside, closing the door. And sometimes Adamo heard muffled moans of pain or discomfort coming from behind that door, but he always stayed away, not to intrude in his friend’s privacy. 

~ Don Gilberto in Chains ~

One day, Adamo rose from the pew that he was painstakingly polishing and saw Don Gilberto looking at him from behind the altar. The worker stood up and slowly walked toward the priest, looking straight at him. Gilberto modestly lowered his eyes, but they fixated on the massive chest of the worker, and then wandered further down to the bulge shifting from side to side at each movement of the two muscular legs.

Adamo didn’t want to cause any discomfort to his friend; despite the attraction he felt for the blond priest, he was determined not to tempt him in any way. So, he flashed a friendly smile, ready to suggest a cold drink to quench their thirst, but as he started to turn around the altar, Don Gilberto ran away to the opposite side, holding his long cassock with one hand. He scurried to the sacristy and closed the door.

Some suffering moans and broken sighs came from behind the closed door, and then silence. Adamo tried unsuccessfully to adjust his cock inside his pants: while he didn’t want to be a temptation for Gilberto, the priest surely was a temptation for him, and he felt his erection painfully crushed by the sturdy fabric of his jeans.

«Damn!» – he thought nervously, turning around and going back to the pew that he was polishing. But he had worked only for few minutes when he heard Don Gilberto’s uncertain voice from the sacristy:

“Help…?”

Adamo was puzzled. Gilberto was apparently asking for help, but with such a dubious tone that he himself sounded unsure whether he really wanted to be helped…

“Help…!” – Gilberto called again, this time in a more convincing tone, and Adamo leapt on his feet. He ran to the small bedroom adjacent the sacristy and stood still, astonished, in the doorway.

Don Gilberto was lying on the bed, covered in sweat, with his long cassock unbuttoned to his waist and open enough to reveal his toned pecs covered with a thin layer of blond hair and two rosy nipples, hard and erect. The priest had his arms up, along his face, and both his wrists were tied to a rope secured to the wooden headboard. His blond hair was stuck to the sweaty forehead and his blue eyes were burning with shame and lust.

«Don Gilberto in Chains…» – Adamo thought incongruously, while his own cock twitched hard in his pants, in response to the extremely erotic scene he had under his eyes.

“W… What happened?” – the worker asked, and the priest opened his mouth a couple of times, before finding the strength to reply: “Nothing… I… got stuck…”

Adamo sat beside the bound man and looked at the rope: “These are elaborate knots. One doesn’t ‘get stuck’ into them by accident.”

The priest turned his blushing red face away and stood silent. “Talk to me, Gilberto” – Adamo insisted with a soothing voice – “We were friends, once. Why these ropes?”

“You can’t imagine how hard it is…” – Don Gilberto eventually said in a low voice – “I hoped that growing up and taking vows things would get better, but I’m thirty-two now and my personal hell still hunts me, worse than ever. My body asks for… it screams for needs that I can’t, I don’t want to satisfy! My mind is filled with dreams and desires… against nature that I try hard to push away… to no avail!”

“And when I realize that my mind is not strong enough to keep my hands away from my burning body” – the priest continued – “I tie myself to the bed, to better resist to the calls of the nature. I usually use fake knots, but this time… this time I knew I was not strong enough. The urges of my body are too strong, too intoxicating, too… abominable!”

 

~ Helping hands ~

Don Gilberto looked at his friend and his eyes welled with tears. “Help me, Adamo… I can’t do it alone, help me!”

“I will” – the worker replied under his breath – “I will help you. I will help you defeat your demons”.

The priest smiled warily, but his smile quickly faded away, when Adamo sneaked his hand inside the unbuttoned cassock and caressed his chest, traced his pecs and brushed one nipple, making the bound man gasp. “Wh… What are you doing??” – Gilberto said with choked voice. “Helping you, as promised” – Adamo replied, fighting a battle against himself that was as harsh as his friend’s.

Gilberto had decided to give up to his sexuality, becoming a priest, but a young, healthy male body has irrepressible urges that can’t be ignored. Adamo didn’t want Don Gilberto to question his choice or, worse, regret it; but his physical needs demanded an attention that Gilberto would never grant them.

Adamo knew what he had to do. He had to give the priest the sexual pleasure he craved so much, but leaving him a… moral emergency exit; so he kept him tied, unable to escape the excruciating caresses he was getting against his will… more or less.

And all this had to be done ignoring the painful erection straining for freedom inside his own pants. Adamo would have more than gladly taken advantage of the situation, he could fuck the priest’s bubble ass so easily! But he restrained himself: he was doing this for his friend, and him alone.

“No!! No, Adamo… Not this… aahhh…” – Don Gilberto moaned, his body language betraying his words as he arched his back, pressing harder his sensitive nipple against the rough-skinned hand.

The priest closed his eyes, loving and hating the sweet shivers of pleasure running through his body; but suddenly his eyes snapped open again, when he felt another hand brushing his leg and disappearing under his cassock.

He looked straight at Adamo with pleading eyes, faintly shaking his head, begging… for something he himself didn’t know.

Adamo’s hand slowly crawled up along his naked leg, under the black fabric, until it was at the hips; and then the sturdy fingers wrapped around the hefty bulge trapped inside the tight briefs. Gilberto’s head snapped back, pressing on the pillow, and a choked squeal escaped his lips.

“No… No…” – he murmured, while his hips, answering to a superior call, started tilting back and forth, humping against the strong fingers that were taking handfuls of his manhood. He felt a fire burning into himself, a fire that was totally unknown to him. “I feel… I feel… Ah!” – he moaned, trying to cope with sensations he’d never felt before, and Adamo heard a sudden urgency his voice – “Adamo, what’s happening to me…?!”

The rugged worker immediately withdrew his hands, looking at his friend in disbelief: “You mean…” – he said tentatively – “You mean you’ve never had an orgasm?”

 

~ Uncharted waters ~

If possible, the priest blushed even more and lowered his eyes: “Not willingly… But sometimes I’ve woken up in the middle of the night and my underwear was… dirty!”

Adamo flashed a smile so tender that Gilberto felt his heart melt. “I don’t want…” – the priest said plaintively, feeling thrown into uncharted waters, waters that so far he had sternly refused to explore – “Please, don’t let me…”

“You have no choice” – Adamo replied, and his apparently authoritarian phrase sounded as sweet as honey; while speaking, he slowly undid one by one all the many buttons of the cassock, until all the thirty-three of them were undone. His hands moved slowly, so to give to Gilberto the time to catch his breath: he was about to experience his first conscious orgasm, and Adamo didn’t want to rush.

The worker opened the now unbuttoned cassock, revealing the sculpted body hidden underneath; the blond body hair was glistening with sweat and a large stain of precum was clearly visible on the white briefs.

“Better take these away” – Adamo said with a seductive smile, gently pulling down the elastic underwear and taking it away. As soon as the priest’s cock was set free from its confinement, it rose to a roaring erection. The brawny man, looking at the eight plus inches of raging meat and at the extremely manly body of the priest felt a pang of pain, as he guessed how terrible had to be for him to resist to his overwhelming physical urges, with such a high level of testosterone flowing in his veins.

And with renewed tenderness he curled his rugged fingers around the long uncut cock and gently peeled down the delicate foreskin, until a pink mushroom head emerged from his velvety nest. Don Gilberto looked with embarrassment at his obscenely swelling cock, and then to Adamo’s lips moving towards it, and again he faintly shook his head and murmured: “What… wait… No, man… don’t do it…”

Adamo felt a rush of love for that bound man who, despite the overwhelming need to make his pleasure explode, was still feebly trying to resist; and he knew that his decision to keep him tied had been the right one, as it was giving to the young, horny priest a way to come to terms with his too strict conscience.

He parted his lips a bit more and stuck out his tongue, until it touched the engorged glans. Gilberto couldn’t restrain a long whine as the warm tongue circled his corona, insisting on the extremely sensitive frenulum, until the entire mushroom head disappeared in the worker’s wet mouth.

“Oooohhh….” – the bound man blubbered – “This is… ooooohhh…!!”

Adamo slowly pushed his head down, giving an excruciating massage to the throbbing cock with his tongue, his palate and his lips. When he felt the glans pushing against his throat muscles, he paused and grabbed the man’s ball, playing with them and sneaking his fingers behind the scrotum, where they started massaging the swollen perineum.

Don Gilberto started writhing and tilting his hips, instinctively trying to force the tight throat passage. “Oh, please… please…!!” – he begged, and he himself was not sure whether he was begging his buddy to stop or finishing him off. The sensations that Gilberto were feeling were, at the same time, powerful and delicate, frightening and delightful: Hell and Paradise had magically merged into that mouth tightly wrapped around his manhood.

He felt his buddy’s head press a little stronger on his cock, and suddenly his cock was inside… something, and the already overwhelming sensations he was feeling became almost insane.

“Oww… Adamo, I… aaahh… No! No, man, don’t!” – the priest whined, strenuously fighting his battle, but quickly losing it – “I can’t… we can’t… No… NO! AAAAGGHHH!!!”

His hips jolted hard, pushing his cock all the way into Adamo’s throat, where it shot countless ropes of pent-up sperm. His entire body squirmed and trembled, while his head rolled from side to side and his arms pulled hard on the ropes restraining them. Adamo kept bobbing his head on the spurting cock in earnest, so to heighten and prolong the pleasure.

After long seconds of frantic bucking and loud moans, suddenly the room was filled only by the ragged breath of the two men. Don Gilberto had his face turned to one side and his eyes were closed.

Adamo let go of the priest’s shrinking cock and groaned, feeling his own cock painfully straining for release; but he ignored it, as he had done it all only for his friend, not to satisfy his own lust.

He moved his eyes up, on the heaving chest covered with sweat, and then further up to his buddy’s face, and he gasped, his heart skipping a beat, as the man’s cheeks were strained with tears. He shifted up on the mattress and took his friend’s face into his hands. “I’m sorry I had to force you” – he said with a guilty tone – “I was just trying to help you, but… I’m afraid I’ve gone too far… Don’t cry, Gilberto! Please, don’t cry, you haven’t done anything bad, I’m the only one to blame…”

 

~ All the way ~

Adamo wiped the tears from his friend’s face with his fingers and then moved his hands up to untie the knots around the man’s wrists.

“No…!” – Gilberto said with hoarse voice, and Adamo looked at him, puzzled: “No?”

As a reply, the blond priest raised his legs and bent them over his chest, revealing his rosy, virgin hole circled by a tuft of blond hair. “Go all the way with me, buddy. Please. I wanted this since we were teens… While running away from you, that day, yelling all those horrible words… all I wanted was feeling you inside me!”

Adamo hesitated: “I don’t know… I didn’t do this to…” – he tried to say, but Gilberto interrupted him, looking down at the man’s bulge, where the tight jeans were straining to hold a cock that desperately wanted to find satisfaction: “You too must listen to your body’s calls. Do it. I know you too want to do it… Just… don’t untie my hands”.

The brawny worker took a deep breath and nodded. He stood up and quickly removed his pants and his briefs, making Gilberto gasp at the sight of his massive, dark-skinned and veiny cock. “Will it hurt?” – the priest asked, staring at the hard rod. “Yes” – the worker replied – “But I know how I can make things easier for you, wait a second…”

He went out to the church, feeling uneasy at walking across a holy place naked and with a raging hard-on. He took from his bag the Vaseline he had used to protect from the rust the two heavy iron Chains hanging over the altar, and went back to the bedroom, where the tied priest was quietly waiting for him with his legs still raised and spread.

He climbed on the bed and knelt behind the man, took a large glob of Vaseline and smeared it on the puckered anus. He massaged it for few moments, until he felt the muscles relax a bit and then, carefully, he inserted one finger into the virgin hole. Gilberto gasped and instinctively clenched his anal ring, squeezing hard Adamo’s finger.

“Relax…” – the expert man said – “Welcome my finger into you… Open yourself to me…”

Slowly, the tight muscle relaxed a bit, and Adamo went on driving his finger in and out the tender hole, until he added a second finger, then a third. By now, Gilberto was moaning with pleasure, keeping his eyes closed and enjoying sensations never experienced before.

Adamo withdrew his fingers, took a fairly big amount of Vaseline and smeared it all over his own cock; he wanted it to be extremely well lubricated, as he knew that his manhood was quite big for a virgin hole, and he didn’t want Gilberto to feel too much pain.

He pointed his cock to the well-greased and loosened hole and looked up at his friend: “Now relax and trust me…”. He pushed gently but firmly, and Gilberto hissed through his teeth when the wide cock head forced open his sphincter and plopped inside. Adamo paused for a moment, to let his buddy catch his breath and then started pushing again, making his cock slowly crawl its way inside the unexperienced ass.

Don Gilberto gripped his hands on the ropes tying his wrists and tensed, while the big cock inch by inch invaded places into him never touched before. He uttered a feeble whine, that slowly became a squeal and then a scream: “aaaaaaaaAAAAAGGGHHH!!!”. Adamo’s cock was now fully buried into him, and Gilberto started sobbing quietly.

“Thank you…” – the bound priest said between the ragged sighs – “Thank you Adamo…”. He'd never felt anything like that; now that the pain was subsiding, he felt the warmth of the hard meat inside him and he felt connected, joined physically and emotionally with his friend, deeper than he'd ever experienced with anyone else in his life.

Adamo started moving his cock back and forth with a slow, steady rhythm, and was happy to see Gilberto respond, tilting his hips to better meet the hot rod impaling him. The blond priest felt something… strange inside him, every time the wide glans hit a special spot deep inside his cavities. Despite the recent shattering orgasm, his cock came to life once more, eager to make up for the lost time.

“Oh man… oh man… what are you doing to me…” – he moaned, feeling totally in the hands of his expert buddy. Keeping his eyes shut, he was glad to give to his friend the pleasure he deserved, enjoying at the same time the pleasure he was giving to him. His cock was rock-hard, by now, and he was drowning into the exquisite feeling of the hot member moving in and out, in and out, every time hitting that special spot that sent jolts of pleasure down his spine…

When Gilberto felt his buddy’s fingers tightening around his swelling cock, he opened his eyes wide and looked at Adamo in alarm: “Are you going… to make me cum again?” – he said with a tone that exuded guilt and desire to the same extent. “You have no choice…” – Adamo replied with a lustful smirk, while pacing up both the lunges into the priest’s ass and the strokes on his cock.

“All the way?” – the brawny worker asked, feeling on the verge of exploding. “All the way…” – the blond tied man replied, and for the first time there was no regret nor shame in his voice.

“Here it comes, buddy… aaahh… NNNGGHH!!” – Adamo groaned when his balls tightened and his juice flooded the priest’s tender linings. Feeling his insides bathed by the warm essence of his friend sent Gilberto over the edge: “Oww… yes! YES! AAAAHH!!”

Both men wriggled hard, shaken by the spasm of their groins, until slowly their orgasms subsided and they stood still, panting, exchanging an intense glance that made words useless.

 

~ The chosen path ~

After a short while Adamo scrambled up and untied Gilberto’s wrists. As soon as he had again control of his arm, the blond priest threw them around his buddy’s shoulders and gave him a long sloppy kiss, making up for his lack of experience with a great passion.

When their lips parted, Gilberto looked straight at Adamo, with a sad, and yet affectionate expression: “Goodbye my sweet friend…” – he said softly – “Today you have taught me many things and you’ve given me something that I will cherish forever: yourself. But some years ago I made a choice, I chose a path in my life that I’m not prepared to leave”.

“Somehow I will find a way to reconcile my faith and my lifestyle of celibacy with the respect and the care I must have, as you taught me, to my own body. And may I live a hundred years, I will never forget you. But I now know I can’t stay here.”

Adamo lowered his gaze and fought hard not to let his eyes get wet. He knew that Gilberto was right, but still his words stung painfully, as few moments before he had imagined… he had hoped…

He nodded to his friend lying beneath him, but when he tried to speak he realized he couldn’t, so he climbed off the bed and put back on his briefs and his pants without a word.

And without a word he turned around and went away.

 

St. George in Chains never opened for worship. In the following years the pews darkened in the moist air, the floor and the altar got covered with layers of dust and the spiders built intricate cobwebs in the corners.

But the two Chains over the altar, richly spread with vaseline, stayed shiny and unstained for a long, long time.

-~~~≈≈≈ooOoo≈≈≈~~~-

A final word from the Author

There is no ‘St. George in Chains’ in the South of Sicily, nor anywhere in Italy (nor in the world, I believe), though Italy is literally scattered with old little forgotten churches like the one described here. The story, the characters and the location are purely fictional, I don’t live in the South of Sicily and not by any means I physically resemble Adamo or Don Gilberto. I’m an atheist, though.