As soon as he had me alone, it quickly became clear that he had other motives. Rather than simply offering me spiritual comfort, he was more interested in my ability to offer him physical comfort. I might have been shocked, horrified even, had Father Jakob not prepared me for this, at least kind of. As it was, I was still caught off guard. The truth is that Father Angelo is a handsome man. The kind of man that leaves church women shaking their heads, regretting the ‘waste’ of such a handsome man in the priesthood. Little do they know, but it is not difficult being the object of such a man’s desires.

It was not a sacrifice to respond to Father Angelo’s needs. It was actually a pleasure. One so great that, sometimes, it almost seems sinful. Father Angelo always acts circumspect. He comes to seek me out late in the evenings and pretends that we are just communing in the Spirit, together. It is only moments, though, before he is taking my clothes off. There is no point in him denying how he hungers for my body. As soon as he has me stripped naked, he ravishes me with his lips and his hands.

He becomes a raging tiger, a whirlwind of lustful desire, and I am swept away in his embrace, reduced to a whimpering sex toy, helpless in his grasp. I try to tell myself that we are two priests offering each other the comfort necessary for us to focus on our devotion. In truth, that is not what this is at all. We are two testosterone drunk studs rutting like the male animals that we are. This is not an act of brotherly love. It’s fucking; fucking like demons have possessed us. God help me, I hope that’s not true, but I can’t say that I genuinely care.

Father Angelo devours my body, my cock, my ass. He eats me like I’m his last meal and fucks my hole with his thumb and his fingers, before he pushes me to my knees and fucks my face untill I can hardly breath. Then he turns me around and thrusts his cock into my hole. His stamina seems inexhaustible and I’m transported to some other realm where I feel like my entire existence is his cock and my hole and him plunging into my guts over and over.

He fucks me until my own seed gushes forth, in a sticky stream over my hands and my balls. He wont find his release until I do. As much as I would like for him to plant his seed deep in my body, he wants to pull out and cum on my face. With my mouth open wide, I try to capture every drop of his holy essence on my tongue. Even in confession, I can’t bring myself to admit that swallowing Father Angelo’s seed brings me closer to union with the divine than holy communion.