1997
The hardwood of the church floor made her knees ache. The darkness of the corner outside of the sacred confessional made her soul ache. The thick cock repeatedly hitting the back of her throat made her jaw ache.
But she had a task, a mission, a sacred duty. She needed to extract as much sexual energy and ejaculate as possible out of Father Boyd to keep him from sinning with other women.
When his groans escalated in volume and pitch, Sofia grabbed his formidable buttocks and held tight. The fifty-three-year-old priest fired a heated shot of spend into her mouth that she quickly swallowed through a satisfied moan. The rest was shot all over her face, neck, and arousal-accelerating exposed breasts. Even her necklace crucifix was dripping with semen. This is what he liked the most. This is what often caused her own orgasmic satisfaction.
She took a moment to regulate her breathing and began cleaning off her face with her fingers and tongue. As the priest zipped up his trousers, he said, “Bless you, my dear.”
She swallowed, made the sign of the cross, and said, “Thank you, Father.” Then she turned to the handsome, younger priest who was nearby, stroking his long erection, and said, “Please use me, Father. I am here to serve.”
****
BEFORE
The first kiss had been surprisingly sweet. The next, even better. When this handsome boy’s fingers touched the side of her bosom, confusion collided with pleasure. The seventeen-year-old Sofia thought, “Maybe this is what ‘lust’ feels like— wanting something of the flesh so much you forget your purity of purpose.” Hers had been to be a nun, always. Nuns do not kiss boys.
Sofia loved God penultimately. She had always enjoyed praying and reading the Bible. Her sisters had joked and teased, calling her “Sister Sofia,” but she never took it as malicious; it felt like encouragement.
In 1987, something surprising happened to the tall, naturally pretty brunette Sofia. She met a man at community college and fell in love. God told her that perhaps her heart was meant to be shared with someone else, not just the Holy Trinity. The destiny of a convent eventually faded from her life plan, and at twenty-years-old she married Stanley without regret.
Sofia loved her Stanley. Once she literally tasted sex, Sofia went from being mildly interested to wildly passionate. After lovemaking, he would regularly say she would one day wear him out. She blamed Stanley’s striking good looks and muscular body. He could wink, and she would soak her underwear.
Like her mother had taught, they did not use birth control per her Catholic upbringing. It was a strange new vision imagining motherhood. As a child, she had been in “the convent” mindset for so long that she had never even dreamed of family.
God was quiet when at twenty-five, she received some nearly devastating news. There was something amiss with her cycle; becoming pregnant would be impossible.
“God has other plans,” she reassured a despondent Stanley.
Sofia prayed daily for divine direction of purpose. Being married made the convent impossible, so after more soul-searching and lots of prayer, Sofia decided to work directly for the church in some other capacity.
It was also by divine direction that the parish in the next town over had need of a secretary at the office and rectory combined. So, at twenty-seven, she embarked on the career that would change her life forever.
But not before life was to offer one more cruel challenge. The accident at the building site was catastrophic. The entire floor had collapsed, and Stanley and three others lost their lives.
Sofia felt abandoned by both Stanley and God. Every memorized Bible passage that commonly gave her solace were shadows to every poetic dark cloud descending.
Without her beloved Stanley, life was microwaved Lean Cuisines and DVD Law and Order.
One particular episode revolved around cheating spouses; the idea of these attractive people wanting sex away from one another seemed rather intriguing. This was the first time that she noticed that absent part of herself since Stanley had left eight months ago. Sofia found herself not only missing the husband he was but also the man he was in bed.
Sofia’s parents had a loving and sometimes loud physical relationship. Her mother never held anything back when she talked to her daughters about sex and being a good wife. Subsequently, she and Stanley, or Stosh as she called him in private, had enjoyed an exhilarating life in bed.
So, in this moment of sudden sexual arousal from a silly television show, Sofia felt prodded into action. Perhaps God wanted her to be vital again. Or perhaps He wanted her to control these urges. Perhaps…He was unsure.
Three things she was certain about: her bills needed to be paid, she still loved the church…and she needed an orgasm. After praying on her knees that God would forgive her, Sofia, the horny widow, climbed into her unfulfilled bed, removed her pajama panties, and proceeded to masturbate. She also prayed that when she went to confession, the priest did not understand the full meaning of “personal indiscretions.”
Her private area was covered in light, curly hair that seemed to say, “Remember us?” Her lips, wet and sensitive, sighed at her touch. She had intended to self-pleasure many times but had abstained, feeling like it somehow perverted Stosh’s memory. The moment her middle finger slid inside of her neglected opening and her thumb played with her love button, she felt comfort like a familiar blanket. It was heavenly. Her climax rose, and her eyes went wide. She had a vision of bright lights surrounding Stosh’s smiling face, a miraculous sexual guardian angel. It somehow made the act feel holy. And that not only brought her solace, but an intensely powerful climax.
“Oh, my Stosh!” She squealed as it wrecked her.
Her body coursed with endorphins, and she felt… joy. She felt strength. She felt courage.
As soon as she was awake, she would call about the church position.
***
And so, at thirty, Mrs. Sophia Sinkoweicz became the strong yet quiet, widowed manager of the Saint Andrew Parish office and rectory. Sofia loved the job, and it loved her.
Senior pastor, Father James Boyd, was in his fifties. A nice-looking man with thinning hair and a priestly paunch. He liked his door closed for his afternoon naps and enjoyed bourbon on the rocks. Sofia laughed at his silly puns. He called her Sister Mary Efficiency.
Associate pastor, Father Timothy O’Brien, was twenty-eight, and this was his first parish. Athletic, due to having played football for Notre Dame, he had reddish brown hair, bright green eyes, and a soft smile. His voice felt calming when he lilted, “Mornin’ Mrs. Sank-O’-vitch,” in a put-on Irish brogue. Sofia thought this silly since she was only a few years older; her cheeks would warm with blush. She lusted for his eyes and smile.
By week three, she felt at home, settled, appreciated. Solid…
***
Three months later, the week before Palm Sunday, a crack appeared.
She was walking past Fr. Jim’s office one afternoon when she heard a low moaning. She stopped at the door. Her hand was raised to knock when she heard the moan louder. Then the sound of a woman’s voice followed. “Oh yes, Father! Yes!”
Sofia was not stupid. Sofia had enjoyed a vibrant sex life with her husband. Sofia knew exactly what was happening!
But with whom? She rushed back down to her office and closed the door. Her hands held her forehead as she tried to regulate her breathing and heart rate.
The senior priest was having sex with a woman in his office.
Her mother had once told her a story of someone in her town in Poland who had an affair with the local priest. It was quite a scandal yet he did not lose his position. “Men have needs,” her mother had said. “Even men of God.”
Sofia had not thought about that story for quite some time. But she also realized that she had, on occasion, found Fr. Timothy’s eyes following her as she walked out of a room. She would blush, indulging a devilish fantasy about him. Even replacing her beloved Stanley’s image with that of the handsome priest during her personal time.
In this aroused moment, she looked up at the crucifix on her wall, shaking her head in confusion. She made the sign of the cross and was trying to search through her memory of passages from the Bible to somehow put this event into a sacred context.
She heard the front door of the Rectory. She looked out the window and saw a young woman getting into a car and driving away. She recognized her as Anna, one of the college students working as an intern in the school. Heavens! The priest was having sex with a twenty-year-old girl!
The ride home was strange in that she didn’t remember operating the vehicle at all. She pulled into her driveway, nipples aroused, and the region in between her legs heated and sweaty. The images of priests having sex could not leave her brain.
“But it wasn’t right, was it?” This question was to the Holy Spirit. She was praying so hard her hands were turning white on the steering wheel. She needed answers.
That night in her bed, her conscience wrestled with her sexual self, revered by her spirituality. She eventually gave in to temptation and lust.
“Lord, forgive my sins…,” she prayed as she nearly ripped her pajamas. Her usual fingering quickly yielded a climax that felt different, more urgent. And before she could even ask for the temptation to be removed, she found another one right behind it. Something was happening and it was not all bad.
The next day was awkward. Unaware he’d been found out, Fr. Jim acted his usual jovial self. But the ever-intuitive Fr. Timothy knew something was going on with Sofia; her joy was missing and her warmth was almost nonexistent.
“Sofia?” her intercom buzzed.
“Yes, Father?” She responded from her desk.
“Can you step into my office, please?”
As she headed to the door, her plain pumps clicking filled her ears and battled with her thumping heart. Her pencil skirt was attractive, but not overly so. She was wearing a plain blouse, buttoned all the way up to the neck as was her standard chaste look.
She stepped in carrying her stenographer pad and a pen. He gestured to the chair opposite his desk and smiled.
“Oh, I’m sorry, I don’t need you to take notes or anything. I wanted to have a chat.” Before he sat, he stepped to the door and closed it. Sofia’s heart was beating even faster. He never closed the door when she was in his office. She found it to be very gentlemanly.
What made matters worse and horribly awkward was how dramatically her arousal returned.
“Priests and sex, priests and sex.”
Her mind could not turn off the image of holy men, and even women, engaged in carnal lust.
“Sofia. Something is clearly bothering you today. Would you like to talk about it?”
Her face went scarlet and she looked to the floor. How did he know that?
“No, everything is just fine Father, thank you for asking,” she sinfully lied.
Rather than sit at his desk, he sat in the chair next to her and her clammy palms almost slipped off the arms of the chair.
Her breath caught in her throat, and his brows lifted as he realized she was uncomfortable. He also noticed her prominent breasts were heaving somewhat with deep breaths. And their tips were poking through. “Oh Lord,” he thought, “She is sexually aroused!”
“I do not want to be *cough* presumptuous, but perhaps you would like me to hear your confession?”
There was a very awkward pause as Sofia struggled, looking away. She pushed some hair behind her ear that had wandered away from her tight bun. She closed her eyes, praying that God would just make this day disappear. Instead, she had the strangest, most divine feeling wash over her. It was partly Stosh and his guardian angel comfort, but also something stronger. Was it the Holy Spirit?
“I saw something…,” she breathed, “yesterday that, for want of a better word, disturbed me. And I do not know how to tell you.”
Fr. Handsome showed genuine concern and quietly said, “I believe in these kinds of moments that honesty is what the Lord expects of us. You may unburden yourself with me, my child.”
She nodded softly and reached up to hold her husband’s gift of a crucifix that was hanging around her neck.
“I left early yesterday because I heard something that frankly shocked me.” She glanced up at him and was thankful that his face was nonjudgmental. “I h-heard Fr. Boyd… havingsexwithayoungwomaninhisoffice.” It had all fallen out like a cascade, and she was surprisingly relieved.
“I see…” Fr. Timothy’s voice and face were unreadable. He leaned forward and gently took her hand in his. “I believe you because, frankly, it has happened before. As you can imagine, it is very difficult for us as men. After our ordinations, we vow celibacy to God. But human nature, perhaps even the devil, allows lust to take root, and often we must either purge it, or let it overtake us.”
The way he was speaking was so logical and calm. The Holy Spirit was still with her, and her heart rate and breathing were less troublesome.
He paused. “I hope you’re not shocked or disappointed, but I myself have, shall we say, indulged in intimate contact with women. Fr. Jim and I have an understanding that as long as it is not interfering with the work, nor harming the person we choose to be with, that it is easily forgiven through an honest act of contrition.”
She sat speechless. She was sure her mouth was slightly open, and that her face must be showing the most unprofessional look of bewilderment. This was absolutely the last thing she expected him to say.
He stood and his trousers looked tented. “I will speak to him about planning these sessions with more awareness of your schedule. I myself will endeavor to do the same. The last thing we want you to do is to leave us or to be uncomfortable.”
She simply nodded her head. Not knowing what else to do. His hand rested on her shoulder and she sighed.
“Unfortunately, many of my brethren fall short in this regard, Sofia. Are you disappointed?”
She shook her head negatively, but then thought again. The Holy Spirit was giving her energy. “I will not need to be coddled and worried about. You may carry on with whatever you feel is best for you and I will do my best to stay out of your way. This is between you and the Lord.”
Fr. Timothy let out a large rush of air and sat back against his desk with a large grin. “Sofia, I don’t know what to say to that. It is so generous and compassionate.”
She softly shrugged her shoulders and gave him a sweet smile. Her sexual arousal had not entirely dissipated, and what she saw before her was a very kind and handsome man who needed her help, to keep his confidence and remain professional. With a new conviction, she sat up straight and ran her hands over her skirt and blouse to smooth it, hopefully giving herself a more professional appearance.
“Thank you for hearing me out. Will there be anything else?”
Fr. Timothy simply shook his head, still somewhat surprised at how well this went. This amazing woman, this consummate professional, was behaving in a way that was perversely Christian.
She rose, legs stronger, and headed towards the door. His kind voice softly said, “Bless you.” And this time it sounded like a come-on.
***
It was Holy Week, the most important time of the church calendar. The three of them, and other members of the extended church staff, were constantly busy with arrangements and bulletins and notes. Sofia had no time to think about her chat with Fr. Timothy, and since that day, she had noticed neither one of them indulging in their more basic carnal needs. Then again, she wasn’t there twenty-four hours a day.
It was Wednesday, the week after Easter. The door to the rectory received a soft knock. As she rose to respond, the door chime also rang. It often gave her comfort as it reminded her of the chimes signifying a moment of silence on a holy day. Today, they felt unsteady. Almost dissonant.
She opened the door and was greeted by a pretty young woman in a bright sky-blue jacket and pleasant smile.
“May I help you?”
She spoke plainly with an ounce of trepidation and a sprinkle of excitement. “I have an… appointment with Fr. Jim, I mean, Father Boyd, sorry. I’m Donna?”
Sofia paused. She knew what “appointment” meant. She politely stepped to the side and welcomed Donna in. “I’m Sofia Seinkowicz, the church manager.” She retrieved the master calendar. “I didn’t see anything on his agenda for after lunch. May I ask what this is concerning?”
“Priests and sex. Priests and sex,” raced through her thoughts.
A warm baritone voice answered for her. “Donna Mahoney is planning on becoming an administrative assistant at the diocese. Her parents asked me to walk her through some things to expect at her interview. Hello, my dear, lovely to see you again.” Fr. Jim extended a warm hand and clasped hers in both of his. To Sofia, it looked like claiming.
She smiled and watched the two of them head towards his office. She could not help but have a sexy feeling. It was going to happen again.
She prayed quickly and fervently. The familiar nudge of the Holy Spirit, in the form of her husband, told her to knock on the door, but not before undoing her top two buttons on her blouse. Fr. Jim’s voice said, “Yes, come in.”
The attractive, dark-haired woman dressed in office conservatism stuck her head in. “Father, may I see you in the hallway for a moment. I realized I need to take care of something right away, and I’d rather not interrupt your meeting.”
He nodded his head and, with a polite apology to Donna, stepped out into the hallway, looking mildly concerned.
Sofia took a deep breath and looked at the floor as if there might be a script etched in the wood. “Forgive me, Father, but I know what is about to happen. I spoke with Fr. Timothy, and I understand your dilemma. But I want you to know that you do not have to… relieve yourself with this young woman.” It took all of her courage to look up and meet him eye to eye.
“Sofia, I have no idea–“
Spiritually emboldened, Sofia interrupted him. “Please do the church, your Lord God, and this young woman a kindness and admit that you are going to have sex.” He was dumbstruck as all color drained from his face.
This formidable woman felt impossible to lie to. Sofia’s voice steadied and softened, her heartbeat contrasted with thunder. “If it helps, I understand and I believe there is a solution to your… problem.” She leaned in. “A solution that is very close and easily accessed.” His eyes widened and he looked down her now slightly open blouse. “You must dismiss this young woman immediately.”
Fear and curiosity battled inside the fifty-three-year-old priest. He gave a nod and stepped back into his office. She heard his voice, politely apologized, disappointment quite evident. Donna softly said she understood and soon she was exiting. As she walked out, she glanced up, and Sofia caught the slightest hint of shame. Poor thing, she thought.
Sofia took a few deep breaths and stepped into the priest’s office. Her heart was racing, her breasts were aching, nipples pushing hard against her utilitarian brassiere. Plus, unfortunately, the aching wetness had returned to her vagina.
“Use me instead,” she blurted out.
He was outwardly surprised, internally aflame. “What did you say?”
The attractive body of the church manager stood before him. Her fingers continued to unbutton her cream-colored blouse.
“Use me for your sexual arousal. I will let you look at my body and even assist in your masturbation. If you’d like, I will even provide you oral stimulation. What will not happen is you having sex with twenty-year-old college students. And that is better for all involved.”
“Mrs. Seinkowicz! This is outrageous. You have no idea what you’re doing.”
“On the contrary, I know precisely what I’m doing.” By now her blouse was completely undone, her naked abdomen showed firm and pale. The priest could not help but admire her femininity.
He also could not help the growing erection in his trousers. He glanced down, as if trying to pray it away, her eyes followed, and she had to swallow, noticing the size of the bulge. This gentleman had quite the package.
Sofia stepped towards Fr. Jim, who had not shut down this insanity. She knelt before him, her lovely breasts held up with her off-white bra, asking to be touched, kissed, and worshiped. His mouth began to water, and his breath began to hitch. This was really going to happen.
She whispered subserviently, “Allow me the honor of keeping you from sin.”
She undid his trousers and allowed them to drop to the floor. Behind his simple boxers, an imposing beast attempted to rip through the fabric. She pulled down and again he did not protest. In fact, he looked to the ceiling and was mumbling a Latin prayer that she did not recognize.
The impressive erection poked out and was already wet at the tip. She gripped it and pulled the foreskin back. Her mouth kissed the first penis she had seen since her husband had died. Only the second one she had ever touched. The taste was magical.
With two hands, she began to stroke the priest’s impressive member. This had to be what the Lord wanted because it felt so divine. She used one hand to pull down her bra cups to expose her reddened, hard nipples.
He leaned back slightly on his desk, not knowing what to do with his sweaty hands. This woman’s talent was surprisingly natural. She could not resist taking a good 2 inches into her mouth and began to suck and swirl.
Fellatio is not one of the seven sacraments. In this moment of sexual reawakening, Sofia wondered why not. She was up and down in a firm rhythm, moaning as she went.
Her diligence yielded speedy results. Fr. Jim was trying to anchor himself to some type of logic, yet none would take. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps this was the Lord’s —
“Ohhh myyy!” He reached down and grabbed a breast, and Sofia moaned. She had taken him down as deep as she could and sucked so hard her cheeks hollowed. The gush of semen made her choke so deeply that she had to pull off to breathe!
She sat back and three more thick blasts splatted against her neck and breasts. The heat felt deliciously sinful. She vowed to ask for forgiveness later as right now this act was causing her vagina to spasm in ecstasy.
After a few moments of silence, Fr. Jim took a tissue and cleaned himself off and tucked back into his trousers. He handed her his handkerchief, and she nodded a thank you. She licked up some of his white spend and swallowed it, humming quietly. He sighed at the sound.
She stood, buttoned up, tossed the handkerchief in the waste basket, and started to go.
He stopped her with his voice. “Thank you again.” He coughed, and she looked up. His eyes were a mix of demand and pleading. “I assume you will tell no one?”
She smiled softly and said, “You have my word. I assume you will tell Fr. O’Brien at your next confession.”
His eyes went wide as she left the office.
After a quick trip to the restroom, she sat at her desk and contemplated what she had just done. The most overwhelming feeling was not guilt, but rather a deep, spiritual bliss. This may be what the Holy Spirit meant for her: one who brings relief to the sexually frustrated.
***
It was two days later when there was a tap on her door frame. The handsome Fr. Timothy filled the frame, and he spoke with calm control. “Sofia, would you please join Fr. Jim and me in the sanctuary? We have need of your services.”
Without hesitation, she stood and followed him out. Her panties, doing their best to absorb her needful arousal.
To be continued
Thank you for reading. If you liked it, hit the heart. If you really liked it, go clean up and then hit the star!
And please leave a comment, I try to respond to them all.
KatieTheWriter rocked another perfect cover illustration that inspired the title! Thanks, Mate!
Peace to All, Matt
