Brother Harold and the Orphan Girl
Chapter 1

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Heterosexual, Spanking, Masturbation, Petting, Exhibitionism, Voyeurism, Small Breasts, Clergy,

Desc: Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - The church was more of a way station for migrant travelers than a real parish center for the teachings of the church. Brother Harold was a good man but his weakness of the flesh sometimes caused him to fall away from the path of the true belief. The temptation was too great for him to ignore.

The tiny church was located almost on the border between the two countries primarily because it was one of the major routes for clandestine movement of migrant workers shifting to the north to take advantage of the need for willing workers. The undocumented transients were wise enough to avoid the usual centers of poverty relief with their governmental connections and tended to use the religious-based centers for their special needs.

The latest batch of dirty and exhausted workers from the south that crowded the vestibule of the small church and filled the tents in the walled garden were typical of the usual mix of migrants with the exception that there were several young people amongst them that had vacated a particularly harshly disciplined governmental institution that was more like a prison farm than a sanctuary.

Brother Harold was distressed to see the naïve young people with their simple air of innocence and need for protection being harassed by the older male workers as a normal course of events. He saw one small person whose gender was undecipherable because of the loose clothing and layers of grime. He or she was silent and rolled up in a defensive ball out of the way of the others. The astute Brother was certain it was a survival mode for the poor little thing and undoubtedly a way to escape notice, when blending in was the name of the game.

He said a prayer of thanks for the fact that the soup stretched in a near miracle aided by the discarded potatoes and cans of corn provided by a generous local food market.

A couple of disrespectful organizers came in with transportation for the larger and more muscular transients and a bus arrived to take the older females to jobs in the large hotels in the city. Only the half-dozen or so of the smallest undocumented escapees remained looking bewildered at their sudden lack of crowded surroundings.

The sound of a van filled the courtyard with a rattle that coincided with the disappearing sun behind the tall mountains in the distance.

It whisked all of the remaining workers into its interior, with the exception of the shy one with a cap pulled down to remain an unmemorable blank in people’s eyes.

“It looks like you will have to stay with us for a while longer, little one.”

The dirty face looked up at him and he saw right away it was a girl and not a boy. He had hoped it was a boy because of the idea that was growing in his head. His thought was to keep the small worker as an altar boy to help in all the minor chores around the church and assist in the ceremonial weddings, baptisms, and funerals for the local populace. The fact that it was a girl made that possibility unlikely, because the bishop frowned on having girls as altar boys even though the Vatican had given permission a long time ago.

The dirty face spoke to him with an educated tone of voice sounding more like one of the ruling class and not just another laborer from the slums of a decaying city.

“I understand, Father, I thank you for the food and for a place to rest. Is it permitted for me to wash up and get this terrible dirt off my skin?”

He beckoned her with his finger and she followed him obediently with her head lowered and her hands together in respect for their location inside the rectory of the church. Brother Harold gave her a towel and a fresh bar of Ivory Snow from the wooden tub in the storeroom. It looked to him like she might need the entire bar to get clean again.

“I am afraid the water will only get a hint of being warm because our heater is not working properly, but at least it is not cold to make you shiver.”

Brother Harold was surprised that the girl started stripping down even before he was able to withdraw from the bathroom. Once she started, he was frozen in place, because it would seem more like a retreat, than obeying any unwritten law concerning modesty. He decided it would be necessary to find some clean used clothing for the girl from the donated piles in the closet. It would be a crime to dress her petite figure in the same filthy rags she had just taken off. It was obvious that she was cured of any shyness by the stay at the institution where bathing was in a large communal wash stand with no regard for gender at all. He wondered if she had been subjected to any sexual advances in the orphanage by either the male residents or the disreputable staff assigned to monitor their adherence to the rules.

“By the way, little one, I am not a priest, my name is Brother Harold and I keep the church running throughout the week. The priest is Father Brown and he comes down here from the big city each Sunday to perform the Mass and hear confessions.”

The girl looked at him through the mist of the water and suds from the soap on the towel. She was struggling to get her back and legs clean and he assisted by running the wet towel over her dark skin that quickly turned to a much paler tone after a few swipes with the cloth. She leaned forward to allow him to reach all of her hard to get places and make her sparkling clean.

The transformation was amazing.

She had changed from a lump of coal to a beautiful young girl with hazel eyes and sparling white teeth that dazzled him when she smiled widely. Suddenly, her nakedness caused him to react in a way that he had not experienced for many years. He knew right away that he would have to confess it on Sunday, even though he had not done anything or said anything about his emotions. He knew the girl had seen his reaction, because it was hard to miss. Still, he did his best to conceal his arousal and told her to follow him to the closet for the dispensing of clean clothes.

On the spur of the moment, he suggested that she don the clothes of a young boy to include tight jeans, broad black belt and a leather jacket that emphasized the width of her shoulders and hid her feminine curves. She didn’t object, but he sensed she was inquisitive about his design in presenting her as a boy and not a girl. He asked her to sign the guest roster and watched her sign her name as “Roberta Rodriguiz” and put her age as 18. He let her watch him change the “A” on Roberto to an “O” and she nodded her head in agreement with the switch.

He led her to the alter boy’s recreation room and showed her the rest room with a pair of cots made up with blankets and pillows.

“This will be your spot for now. I think we will make you a Roberto and you can learn the ins and outs of being a good altar boy. How would you like that, Roberto?”

She looked up at him standing high above her and nodded her head.

“I think that is a very fine idea, Brother, I would like to learn all that you wish to teach me.”

That night, Brother Harold said his prayers and prayed that he would be forgiven for his disgusting arousal and promised to be a better person and teach the new altar boy everything he knew about the business of serving a good mass, and the special needs for weddings, baptism, funerals and other church matters.

Young Roberta stripped down to her undies and socks in the bed and covered her shapely body with the blanket, which was nice and warm, but a bit rough on her skin. For some strange reason, she didn’t mind that at all and offered the irritation up to the Lord in punishment for her dismaying attraction to Brother Harold’s stiffness. She remembered how close it was to her freshly cleaned face and yet miles away in terms of appropriate behavior.

The next day Roberta helped Brother Harold clean the mess left by the transient group.

Then, he showed her the proper way to wear the cassock and the altar boy costume required in all ceremonies. He told her it was OK to wear her civilian clothes underneath because they couldn’t be seen. The only problem was her hair which was too long for a boy. He put a bowl on top of her head and trimmed around it with the large manuscript scissors being as careful as possible to make it perfectly straight. When he was finished she did look a lot more like a boy with a bad haircut but that was acceptable under the circumstances.

They had to clean the dust from the bottoms of the stained glass windows that ran all the way down both sides of the narrow church.

Due to a lock of a proper ladder, Brother Harold boosted the petite Roberta onto his shoulders and she squirmed and twisted to get the windows clean in every corner. Her odd contortions started to make her feel all tingly between her legs and before she knew it, her orgasm was exploding, while she still had her legs wrapped around Brother Harold’s head and neck. She prayed he did not sense her lack of good behavior and sinful pleasure-seeking. Fortunately, she had on a pair of thick man’s underwear and it absorbed a lot of her uncontrollable emissions. The only thing she feared was that he would realize the scent in the air was not from the incense, but from her exotically flavored feminine passageway dreaming of her perfect “taking” for the very first time.

They had a double baptism to perform early on that Saturday morning. Then, the priest would arrive on Sunday for mass and confessions.

Finally, on Sunday evening, they would be receiving a new batch of transients from the south and they would feed them and take care of them until the transportation showed up to take them to their new jobs further away from the dangerous border. Brother Harold told her that the authorities knew about the arrangement, but that they had promised not to interfere, because it was better to move the workers through the county quickly and not make the county government liable for funding their presence. The health-care costs and the educational costs alone would bankrupt the county’s ability to pay its bills and the voters would be breathing down the necks of the authorities seeking answers to a looming bankruptcy.

Roberta didn’t like the priest, because he was a bit too pompous for her and she sensed he suspected she was a girl and not a boy from the way he looked a little too long in her eyes seeking some sort of answer to his suspicions. It seemed so strange to her that the higher-ups in the church were adamant against the use of girls as altar boys, when it was so common in her own country. The girls were usually more mature than the boys and they tended to be more obedient when rules are needed to be followed. The boys were all caught up in football and chasing girls and the girls just focused on the job and gave full attention to the details.

After the priest left, they had plenty of time to get ready for the new group to arrive and she explained that she did not want to tell the priest her sins, because she was feeling a bit lonely and needed a touch in a certain place to make her feel more complete. She told Brother Harold that it didn’t seem too much of a sin and she didn’t really feel guilty about her feelings.

Brother Harold seemed embarrassed, but he understood her dilemma perfectly.

He told her to raise her cassock in the back and sit on his lap to discuss the best remedy. With a little bit of fumbling, they got her trousers down and she planted her heart-shaped bottom right on top of his demanding shaft to receive his instructions on how to achieve a quick remedy to the problem. It was only a matter of moments, before the both of them were pledging eternal thanks for their mutual satisfaction. She knew the flood between her legs was from him in the way that all men gave their present of cream filled with the seeds of making a baby. She was happy and yet a little sad that he had not pushed inside her, either in the front or the back, and just explored the entire area with his probing shaft. In a way, she was proud that she had managed to make him feel satisfied in such a delicate matter. Roberta hoped he would lose his reluctance and stretch one of her openings soon because she knew she could not wait much longer to let that ultimate tingle shake her from head to toe. It seemed like a good solution to her problem and they agreed to keep it private between a dedicated man of the cloth and an imitation high-spirited altar boy with secrets of his own.

She decided that from now on, she would not wear anything under her cassock, so they could couple with the ease of practiced partners. It looked like she was fitting into her new position with perfect harmony. She knew that Brother Harold was happy with the fit from the way he smiled his gratitude each time she proved her loyalty with her new-found attitude of cooperation and total obedience to orders.

In her bed at night, she speculated about Brother Harold’s feelings about disciplining her with his broad leather belt to keep her from sinful thoughts and to do her best to be a “good girl”. She had to admit, it was the only thing she liked from the orphanage and the very thought made her shiver with anticipation of twisting and turning on top of his robes and hearing the sound of his strap as it hit her unprotected bottom. She fell asleep with a smile that never changed the entire night.

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