Chapter 2

The phone rang:

Father McNamara had just finished hearing his final confession and hoped this intrusion wasn't going to delay his meditations.

"Alright." he sighed, removing his chasuble. "Give me a moment or two."

His first parish was a small community, about a thousand souls all told, and he was keenly aware of his naivety in dealing with the outside world after the sanctuary of his cloistered life. He thought his parishioners made most of their confessions up to add spice into the routine mundanity of their small world - especially the minxy Miss Barton - who went into such graphic detail! Is she going to hell for succumbing to such depravity? she always asked after tormenting his virgin ears with such brazen impertinence. Well that was hard to say, but he felt as hot as Beelzebub's armpit whenever she went on like that!

Tonight however had been routine, a mundane list of monotony from the regular visitors to his Wednesday confessional, no sign of the teenage temptress who disturbed the pool of serenity in his soul.

He glanced at the clock as he picked up the phone; it was 8.30pm, on the dot: "hello?"

At first he thought nobody was there, but then a deep voice spoke, baffling him.

"Don't you just love eating out? He said in a friendly, confiding way, as though he was an old friend.

"Pardon me?"

"You know what I mean." he went on, accompanying each word with a series of soft slurps, a smacking of lips as though eating an ice cream on a hot day.

"Who is this please?" He courteously inquired.

"I know who I am..." came the mysterious reply; "Do you know who you are?"

"D-do you know..." he spluttered in disbelief.

"Are you into seafood, like oyster or clams?" The voice went on.

"Yes, I'm partial to fresh fare from the sea." The priest replied, curious to what the man was getting at.

"Mmmmm. Me too." The man said, smacking his lips again. "I love to crack open a nice juicy clam, or suck the pearl from a nice, fresh oyster. Do you know why they're considered an aphrodisiac?"

The priest thought carefully for a moment and answered quietly. "I'm not sure i do."

The man chuckled and made the odd slurping noise again. "It's because an oyster reminded the Romans of a certain part of the female body."

A mental image of the delectable Ms Barton flashed across Father McNamara's mind and he flushed guiltily. "Is that a fact." He said. "Look, I feel i should tell you I've had a busy day and would like to get on, so if you'll excuse me..."

"Oh don't go." The stranger said. "We were getting on so well too. You know 'all work and no play make's Jack a dull boy'. Besides, i have a confession to make."

The priest sighed and said. "I've just finished taking confession for the night, why don't you come down to the church on Friday evening when i hold my next confessional and I'd be happy to absolve you then my son."

He was surprised to hear sardonic laughter greet his statement and astonished by what he heard next.

"You're a priest!" The man guffawed loudly. "A real honest-to-God priest. Holy shit - 'scuse my French. Well bless me Father for i have sinned... it's been too long since i tasted anything as good as this!"

High pitched giggles mingled with his deep throated chuckles and the priest began to suspect something wasn't quite right.

"Is someone there with you?" He said testily.

"I never eat alone." The man laughed. "Besides, this won't take long and it'd be much easier if we could talk now."

"It's not really the done thing over the phone and as you seem to be otherwise engaged too."

"Hell - oops, sorry! Heck, she don't mind. She's kinda busy tucking in to mind us anyways."

Father Mcnamara looked once more at the clock and saw it was 20 minutes from the hour. He thought this was a wind-up but his innate politeness decided the matter for him. "Very well." He sighed, then asked. "You are a Catholic?"

"Born and bred." The man answered promptly.

"In that case, give me a moment please."

For some reason he could never explain, the idea to go into the confessional had popped into his head and as the phone was cordless, it didn't take long for him to attain a semblance of reality in this odd situation by making himself comfortable in the accustomed sanctuary of the wooden enclosure. He lifted the phone to his ear and was about to speak when he heard the man say: "You know what I want you to do..."

"Er, excuse me." He replied softly, automatically pitching his voice in the sacred intimacy.

"Come on now put it in there..."

"I'm sure i don't know what you're talking about.

"That's right, eat it all up like a good girl."

I beg your pardon!"

"Be right with you man."

"You may address me as Father."

"Well i don't know about that, I got a lot of things to confess, but incest isn't one of them." The man chuckled and gave a low moan. "Yeah, right there." he said approvingly to his mysterious companion.

"I should hope not." The priest responded dryly. "In the name of the Father and of the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen." He paused. "Will you join me in the Benediction?"

"Oh yeah, sure. In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost. Ahhhhhmen." he said.

"And how long has it been since your last confession? He prompted.

"Well now you're asking, maybe 10 years or more."

"So you wouldn't say you're especially devout?"

The man chuckled again. "My devotions tend to be more, er... secular."

"Please go on." He prompted again.

"Oh it's hard to stop." He grunted, then moaned again.

"Are you alright?" The priest asked, wondering if the man was having some sort of seizure.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine."

"Then please continue."

"Ok, I have to confess I'm having an affair..." he groaned. "... With a friends wife. Oh God that's good..." He groaned again.

The disturbing truth began to dawn on the priest. He shifted uncomfortably on the wooden bench, worn smooth by his predecessors over the years, who had probably never had to deal with a situation like this and one in he was hopelessly unable to cope.

"... Just put... tongue in..." The man muttered, his words muffled somehow, probably by a well placed hand but still the priest caught the gist of it and had become even more perturbed by an unexpected reaction beneath his trousers.

"I assume your friend is unaware of this situation?" He ran a finger under his collar for it seemed to be getting distinctly warm in there.

"Oh yeah." The man chuckled. "OH YEAH!" he then gasped. "He'd be very upset to know i was givin' it to his ol' lady every week... oh FUCK yeah, take it all down!" he grunted lewdly.

The penny dropped in the profound silence of the confessional as the shocking sounds rang in his ear.

"Now look here..." He began to say and was stunned into silence by what he heard next.

"I've had his daughter too." The man bragged. "I never tasted anything finer than her cherry. Eighteen years fresh. Damn she was a hot one... just... like... her... mom!" he hissed, punctuating the sentence with a series of groans that left Father Mcnamara feeling distinctly hotter, and harder, under the cassock. The mental picture of Ms Barton was now running, fully naked, through his mind in glorious Technicolor and the priest discreetly adjusted himself.

"You don't have to go into all the details." He whispered dryly.

"Ohhhh but i do!" The man contradicted. "I have to expose all my sin for you. Aren't we going to burn in Hell for this?" He asked plaintively.

The priest began to suspect he was going to be there before him at this rate for what Ms Barton was doing in his mind. "No you mustn't do this." He said weakly, attempting to salvage the dignity of his office.

"Ah yes, we must control our bestial nature." The man taunted. "But, tell me, isn't it a sin to leave a beautiful woman unloved - won't God forgive our weakness at the end of it all?"

The priest said nothing as he tried to clear his mind with an act of contrition. But Ms Barton frolicked through regardless and he felt his control slipping under a wandering hand.

The man's sardonic laughter melted away and a series of high pitched moans became louder. A sensual, rhythmic sound of flesh-on-flesh, hot panting breath filled his ear.

Father Mcnamara kept his eyes firmly closed and concentrated on the dual stimulation of the syrupy sounds providing a lewd soundtrack to the obscene image of Ms Barton sinking to her knees in benediction before him. He knew this was wrong but after so many years of denial he couldn't resist the urge to satisfy the demands of the flesh tonight, just once, after all, who would ever know?

()()

The woman entered the church and genuflected respectfully at the door. She was troubled by the memory of what she'd seen earlier that evening and needed to talk to someone about how it made her feel. 'Who better than Father Mcnamara. Such an nice man.' She thought. 'And so understanding.' Like all the villagers, she'd had her reservations about the new vicar, but he'd filled the parish with a new joy since his arrival - he'd made a considerable impression on the ladies with his beautifully spoken sermons and always had time for everyone. She stopped by the altar rail, peered through the open door to the rectory, and was about to call his name when a low sound gave her pause for thought. 'Was that someone in pain?' She wondered, looking toward the confessional where the noise seemed to be creeping from, beckoning her closer as it rose and fell in an hypnotic rhythm. She put her ear to the door and her hand over her mouth to smother an outcry of astonishment as she realised these were no sounds of pain, but of pleasure.

'Whatever is Father Mcnamara doing in there - and with whom?' she wondered, her mind boggling at the thought of a priest, their priest, doing such a thing. 'And in a House of God too!'

Unaware of anything outside the inner sanctum of his private pleasure; Father Mcnamara indulged himself in the lewd fantasy. His trousers lay in a crumpled puddle around his

ankles, giving himself the freedom to stroke his engorged phallus to his hearts content.

The sucking sounds enriched his vision of Ms Barton, on her knees, taking him in her warm, wet mouth, every stroke of his hand/her lips making him gasp at the audacity of it all. "Oh you're such a naughty girl!" He breathed, pulling the skin back and forth over his swollen knob.

The woman took a sharp intake of breath: 'Who is in there with him?' she thought furiously, becoming determined to discover the truth of this mystery, whatever the cost to her pride - or his dignity. She tip-toed over to the adjoining door and tentatively opened it, peering through the gap cautiously before sliding into the cubicle where she'd poured her heart out to him on many occasions. As usual, it took a moment or two for her eyes to adjust to the dim light, but as they did she faintly discerned movement behind the grill in the partition. Stealthily, a step at a time, she crept closer until it became all too clear what was going on. 'The priest was masturbating!' Her mind reeled from such a thought, but the evidence was undeniably, if unbelievably, before her very eyes, illumined in a pool of light as though from heaven above, his cock stood erect within his firmly stroking hand. She'd never have imagined a man such as Father Mcnamara, so refined and slender, would possess such a beast.

She stared wide eyed at the meaty shaft he rhythmically beat in his slender fist, judging it to be no less than eight inches in length topped by a hard, fleshy helmet that made her mouth water - and her pussy no less juicy too. Her hands gently sought the most sensitive spot and aroused her desire while she watched him slowly jerk off, pulling aside the constricting material of her underwear in order to stimulate the hot flesh of her moist sex.