"Filling This Most Perfect Cup"
"Bless me, Father, for I have s-sinned. It has b-been three months s-since m-muh..." and that's as far as I got. I started crying uncontrollably.
"Child, what is it?" Father McGuire's concerned voice came through the screen. "Nothing's so bad that it can't be corrected, especially with God's help."
"Oh, Father," I cried, "nothing will help. I've prayed and prayed, and it's still the same."
"Tell me, child, what is it?"
"It's my husband, Sam. We've been married for over three months and-- well, uh-- he hasn't-- uh, I mean, uh-- Father, this is hard to say."
"I know, child. There are no secrets from God. Tell me, what is it?"
"We haven't, uh, we-- Father, our marriage hasn't been c-consummated!" I broke down again. I cried for a long time before Father McGuire spoke again.
"My child, tell me why".
"D-do I, uh, do I have to?"
"Yes, child, you must. No secrets, remember?"
"Father, on our wedding night, we didn't-- we didn't make love the way I expected."
"He seemed so mean, Father! Not like we was before the wedding. He called me names. He said I was 'window dressing.' I told him I didn't know what that meant, but he said he didn't care. Then he said that since I was his wife, he might as well 'use' me. And Father, he made me-- Oh, Father! He told me I had to please him and he-- he made me do-- the most unspeakable..." I started wailing again.
"Yes, child, go on".
"I-- I'm sorry, Father. H-he made me put his p-penis in my mouth and-- and s-suck on it until he came, and he made me swallow every drop. And-- and..."
"Yes, I'm listening", he breathed, "Please, go on".
"He f-forced himself into-- into-- m-my bottom and he-- and he..."
"He comes, Father! He comes in my ass! He won't put his seed where it would give me the gift of a child! He puts it in my mouth and in my bottom, Father!"
"Is he still subjecting you to this, child?"
"No, Father, after the first couple of weeks I guess he got tired of me. And, Father?"
"That's the worst part. I-I'm ashamed to say I was actually beginning to enjoy his filthy acts. Father, I actually miss it! At least he showed me some attention, and-- and..."
"I-I almost had an orgasm with him in my bottom. Oh, Father I feel so dirty and disgraced."
"I see, child," Father McGuire whispered, "I understand."
"No, Father, you don't!", I cried. "I want to be able to accept all of that, like a good Christian wife should. I want to be a good wife, even if my husband isn't good to me and I would, except-- except..."
"I-- I'm just so, so-- so horny! Father, I ache to have someone make love to me! I've been so tempted to just go down to the bar on the corner and offer myself to the first guy I see. I have dreams about being gang-raped and, Father forgive me, when I wake up, I'm disappointed that it didn't really happen. Oh, Father, Father, what can I do?"
Father McGuire was silent for a moment, and then he spoke. "No, child," he said in soothing tones, "I really do understand. You're unhappy and frustrated, and that's quite understandable. Your husband has strayed from the words of the Lord, and we will pray for him. But, even in a marriage like yours, God doesn't want us to be unhappy. The sacrament of marriage should be joyous and fruitful, and, my child, you can be so. There are ways to make it so."
I looked up. "T-there are? Even if..."
"Yes, even if. Come, child. Come with me and I will teach you." The screen closed with a soft swishing sound. It reminded me of Sam and I started crying again.
"Come, child," I heard Father McGuire calling from outside the confessional.
I walked through the curtain, my face streaked with tears, and he was there, softly smiling, his arm outstretched and beckoning. I buried my face in his chest and started crying again. He wrapped his arms around me and whispered, "There, there, now. With God's help, we'll make it all better."
I couldn't tell him, but I thought he was making it worse, the way he was stroking my back and pressing me against him. I'd gotten so frustrated and horny over the last three months that I even began to imagine a pressure against my thigh coming from under his cassock. I prayed he couldn't feel how my nipples were hardening against his chest. I was making quite a scene. It was a good thing we were the only two in the church.
"Oh, Father," I sobbed as my hips suddenly jerked at him, totally against my will. "I can't help it, I just feel so, so..."
"Now, hush, child," he breathed into my ear, "come with me".
He walked me right up to the front of the altar and said, "Now, child, I want you to kneel right here and pray for the strength to accept the joy and fulfillment that God will soon give to you."
I bowed my head in prayer, trying desperately to stop my hips from jerking. I heard him walk to the back of the church and heard some clicking noises coming from the front vestibule. Then he came back.
"There. We'll be able to perform the ritual without interruption." He stood before me, between me and the altar. "Now, child, arise and come to me. Remember to just do as I say, and don't be ashamed. The only eyes upon you will be God's, who sees and knows all".
I stood up and walked up the three steps until I was standing in front of him. There was very little room in that step and we were almost touching. I couldn't understand how this could help. I was getting hornier by the second, especially with being so close to him that his breath rose the hair of the back of my neck.
"Now you will offer your body to God. Take off your blouse."
In shock, I cried incredulously, "Take off my...", but he cut me off.
"Now, child, please, just do as I say. Have faith."
My fingers fumbled with the buttons and I pulled apart the front of my blouse, exposing the pink bra underneath. I slid the material off my shoulders, then hesitated.
"Just let it fall, child," he said. His voice was becoming raspy. As my blouse fell to the floor, he reached around me and, pressing me toward him, he unclasped my bra. I started to lean against him, but he said, "No, child, you must remain standing, even if it's an effort to do so."
The bra dropped away, and my breasts were bared. He looked down at them. Other than Sam, he was the first man I'd ever let see them, and they rocked up and down from my excited breathing.
Even Sam hadn't done what Father McGuire did next. He cupped them in each of his hands and said, "We offer these vessels to You, O Lord, and ask that, through your mercy, they will fill with the bounty of Your sustenance."
Then he bent and took each of the nipples into him mouth and drew on each one, making me moan aloud. I tried to quiet myself, but he whispered, "No, child. Let God hear your pleasure." Then, more loudly, he said, "Now, remove your skirt."
My body was becoming uncontrollable. I slid my skirt down over my twitching hips and it puddled around my ankles. Then his fingers slipped under the waistband of my soaked panties and he knelt as he pulled them down. As I stepped out of them, his breath blew upon my open, exposed pussy lips and I almost fainted as the flames burning within them burned hotter.
Then he rose, put a hand on either side of my hips and pulled me around so my back was to the altar. Then he lifted me up so I was sitting on it. "Now, child, lie across the altar so that God will see how pleasing your offering is." I laid back, my nipples pointed upwards, my hips beating against the rough linen separating my buttocks from the cold marble underneath.
Father McGuire stood next to the altar and put one hand on my breast and began to fondle and squeeze it. With his other hand, he separated my thighs. The air was cold against my pussy, but his warm hand pressed down upon it, his fingers prodding between the folds.
"O Lord," he said, "we beseech Thee that this womb may be ready and worthy of your divine purpose of propagation. Let the seed You are about to plant within this channel find fertile ground to take root. and may the fruit of this quickening grow safe and strong within. O Lord, accept this offering, we pray."
I couldn't hear much of what he was saying, what with all my concentration on his fingers burrowing deep into the dripping slit between my legs and my moans loudly declaring my pleasure. Some small part of me was thinking that maybe this was wrong, but my body certainly didn't care. All it wanted was satisfaction and relief from the burning ache in my belly.