Clergy seduced (Please PM)

[Liplovinman]

He had left the clergy in disgrace. He had shamed his order and himself by his selfish acts and was now paying the price. Now, as a religious historian, he saw little of the outside world. He kept the leather bindings of the collegiate library, silent, unapproachable and remorseful.

It was two years ago that he had fallen, and quite figuratively he had fallen for the 24 year old single mother in his parish. She had arrived at confession more often than any other patron, revealing more depravity than he could have imagined. He was prepared for anything, so he had thought, but this was something quite beyond his imagination.

She spoke of her child's father, unaware of who it might be, the number of partners was staggering to him. She thought 12 maybe 15, the night she conceived her son. Patric often wondered why she arrived at the church at all, he had never seen her on any Sunday, just the 2 to 3 visits each week. Her list of needs, wants for absolution were growing. He could not continue to allow her to feel as though she could be forgiven without working at this on her own. Patric wondered if she had grown up around the church and this was all a guilt release based on her childhood.

He asked to speak to her in the rectory, if she was willing, to clarify what confession meant, what her role in this process should be, how she might improve on the issues that were driving her back to seek forgiveness.

That first meeting, seeing her face to face, Patric began to feel confliction in his own mind. The more she discussed her depravity, the more he asked questions, the less their time became about helping her, but feeding his understanding. He spent 2 weeks working through this pattern, growing hard at her stories, lusting after her in the latest of nights, seeking forgiveness for his thoughts. He had left the order before anything happened between them. He didn't expect that she was looking for more than an ear and a way to stop feeling guilty.

Patric placed the latest volume on the cart and finished his handwritten synopsis for Professor Klein. He would retire now he needed his rest.

 

[kimberlee]

I go to church regularly and take full advantage of the confessional. I always exit the box feeling cleansed and refreshed. As though in telling the priest of my past misdeeds and hearing his penance has removed the sins from my soul. I feel ready to take on the world. Unfortunately, the real world tends to butt its head in to show me just how wrong I was.

Still, those precious moments upon exiting the confessional are sometimes all I have to keep me going and strengthening the hope that one day I will be a better person.

I'm a sex addict and I know it. I refuse to join some group for therapy. I couldn't share my depression, my depravity - some might say, my desperation, with a group of strangers.

Father Patric was helping me. I felt a bond growing between the two of us. Sure, I wanted to fuck him; but, he was my priest and had taken a vow of chastity. It sometimes made me tease him and explain in perhaps more graphic detail than was needed. Still, he knew me to a degree that few men ever had. We'd never had sex - as I'd had with a great many men. What we shared was something of the soul rather than of the flesh.

Then he was gone. There were whispers of punishment. I just know that I was at fault. I'd kissed him after a difficult session and as my lips met his for a chaste kiss, I'd felt a telling bulge rub against me. In that moment, the chaste kiss became something more.

I don't know what might have happened had we been left alone; but, Carol Harris, the biggest gossip and - in her eyes - the most devout woman in our parish.

I've looked for him ever since he was called away. I only too well recall his words, "Kimberly... Mrs. Johnson, you must go on and seek the path our lord has set out for you. I wish only that I could have helped."

I drowned my sorrows in sex. Most days, I didn't bother to count the number of partners I'd had. Mr. Harris was one of my first conquests and I hoped that the empty bed Carol slept in that night felt as horrible to her as my life without Father Patric did to me.

Sex was my crutch and I once again took it up to get me through the day. I refused to look my reflection in the eye for fear of what I might see.

Then I thought I saw him one day. I rushed and captured the priest only to find myself mistaken.

What was I doing? I'd reverted to my old self. It was then that my search truly began.

 

[Liplovinman]

The walk was slow, long as he passed by the modernist chapel on the campus. Such a large university should have a more defined sense of purpose, he thought. But who was he to judge? He bowed his head as he walked, clutching at a rosary beneath in the dark recesses of his pocket.

He had not felt right about leaving Kimberly, but there was nothing he could do for her now. He had sins of his own to hang around his neck. Patric could not see a day when he could make amends for his actions, he had not done his duty with Kimberly, not even in words. His thoughts were another strain on him, as her visits increased and he looked forward to hearing and absolving her. Now he was surrounded by his sins alone. Patric was not ready to deal with the consequences, but he felt his distance could at least save others from his depravity. There was so much he needed to atone for in his life, in his prayers.

He had been walking for some time, lost in thought and pulling frantically through the rosary, the pattern and familiarity of it gave him comfort at times, he felt almost meditative, exerting his body and his mind as he moved by street after street.

Patric was only aware of his error as he saw landmarks familiar to his mind, but cloudy as he was set on his path. He stopped short of actually seeing his old church, frantic for a moment as he knew he had fallen prey to the patterns of his old existence. He had walked nearly 3 miles to the outskirts of the community he had so diligently served for so long. 8 years, each one a blessing until the last.

It was dark, late in the evening. Wednesday night would see the church bustling with activity, classes, continuing education for adults, even a English as a second language course. But today was Thursday, no such activity today. The most that might be happening would be a Father Thomas reciting his scriptures at the pulpit. He liked the sound of his voice as it reverberated around the stained glass and wooden pews. It had that regal sound that Father Thomas loved.

Patric turned to walk away, ready to take his long hike back to the campus, to his bed and his bible. He had not read in so very long. It was time.

 

[kimberlee]

I'd had little to no luck learning of Patric's - Father Patric's - current residence. Where had the church sent him? I wondered as I ran into wall after wall of silence. If any in the congregation knew, they weren't talking and I received more than a few looks that stated better than words the blame placed upon my shoulders for Patric's - our priest's - having left under a cloud.

They didn't know, didn't understand, the connection I'd developed with Pat - Father Patric. None of the other priests really listened to what I said. He was the only one to ever suggest one on one councelling. I knew I was falling for him; but, he was my priest and so beyond reach. I'd sometimes made up indiscretions I'd supposedly performed because the truth was too embarassing to tell. I'd been holding my sexual misdeeds at bay by masturbating as I thought about him.

As my frustration grew, I decided to fall back on those actions that had stood me tried and true. Sex. I thought to use sex on Jason Harris, Carol's husband, figuring that if anyone in the parish knew Patric's where-abouts; it would be she and he may have overheard.

Instead, he proposed leaving his wife. When asked about where Father Patric had been sent, he'd gotten rude saying, "What do you need a fucking priest for when you can have me?"

"I don't care what Carol said. Father Patric wasn't a 'fucking priest,'" I returned.

This exchange not only ended our brief affair but also gave me an idea.

Father Thomas preached on the evils of excess that week. I knew he was directing the sermon toward me, blaming me as everyone else did. Did he think that Patric hadn't talked to me on the subject - if in a more friendly manner? Listening to one of Father Thomas' sermons was the equivalent of hearing some stranger talking down to you. Patric, I mean Father Patric, had talked to you rather than about you.

I wondered about my plan again. I know without a doubt that Patric wouldn't have approved. But he wasn't here and I needed to find him.

When the hour was late enough, I slipped into the rectory and quickly found the bedroom Father Thomas slept in. He was deep asleep. I removed my panties and tossed them where the good father and anyone looking in could easily see. I approached the bed and carefully pulled the covers out of the way.

Father Thomas wore boxers. I'd taken him for a tighty whities sort of man. I took a few deep breaths as I once again thought over what I was planning to do. I'd asuredly go to hell for fucking a priest. Patric's face came to mind at the thought. I'd masturbated to the thought of him; I was probably damned already.

I kept an eye on Father Thomas as I carefully drew down the front of his shorts. I pulled back quickly when he turned onto his side. Crap! I needed him on his back.

I drew his underwear further down and quickly divested myself of any and all clothing. I waited and when he turned onto his back, I practically yanked his boxers off and dropped them at the foot of the bed. With a practiced touch, I soon had the good father at full mast. I climbed onto the bed and straddled his hips to keep him from turning over again then lowered myself onto his cock.

I don't think he was fully asleep as I rubbed his erection along my crease. Spreading my outer lips, I lowered myself down his hardened length. I heard him moan as I began riding him. The man was just coming to his senses as his cock came inside me. I watched his eyes widen as he took in the view of my naked body atop his. I captured his lips with mine to keep him from uttering a word.

I'd rehearsed the words so I could say them without needing to focus overmuch on them as I closed my eyes and clenched and relaxed my inner muscles around the priest's rapidly deflating cock. "Forgive me Father for I have sinned. Don't push me off. I can screech like a banshee and imagine what anyone walking in might see. For example, my panties on your lampshade, our bodies wrestling on the bed or your cum leaking from my pussy," I moaned. "I want to know where Father Patric was sent."

"Witch. You're a witch," he groaned in response.

I could feel his cock growing inside me and gave it a little encouragement.

"Why?" I asked. "Because you're cock's hard inside me? Because, right now, you want nothing more than to thrust it inside me and fuck me like there's no tomorrow?" I rose and fell on his rigid member swivelling my hips for maximum effect. "Just tell me where Father Patric is."

Damn, this wasn't wasn't love, lust or even revenge. I was a desperate woman falling back on what she knew best in hopes that it would get me the information I craved. Even so, I wasn't totally unaffected by my current circumstances. I might dislike the padre; but, my pussy was more than willing to accept him. I rode him slowly, leaning close to whisper, "Just tell me what I want to know and the truth shall set you free."

He whispered something; but, I couldn't quite make it out.

"What was that? I didn't hear you," I said.

It was then that I noticed his hips were just barely moving; but, they reached for what I was offering. I began to move a touch faster with more force. I closed my eyes and imagined it was Patric beneath me. Oh yeah, he was responding alright.

"Did you say faster? harder? Tell me," I groaned as I ground myself against him, as I truly began fucking him. He, in turn, soon joined me in search of coital bliss.

At some point, we turned over and he was on top of me ramming his rod into me as if it held the wrath of God and he was punishing me. He called me a number of degrading names like ''Whore of Babylon' and a good number I hadn't known till then that the good father even knew. Since, I was about to cum on a priest's cock; I couldn't quite deny them.

It was when he thrust his holy rod into my most inner depths and showered my insides with the seeds of life that I cried out and joined him in ecstasy.

He rolled off of me and covered his eyes. I moved onto my side to cuddle against him as my hand unerringly found his manhood and gently stroked it.

"Don't you ever get tired?" he moaned. I smiled giving the flaccid bit of flesh that had only moments before been anything but soft.

"Where's Father Patric?" I asked.

"They've got him working as a religious historian at the college," he said.

"Which college?" I asked, feeling some bit of hope rise on my horizon. I named the local university as a question. Could he have been a few mere miles away all this time?

Father Thomas nodded. I'd been ready to move clear across the country if need be; but, he was just a stone's throw away. I felt a rush of joy fill me then and soon after - with a little help on my part - had the padre's cock fill me yet again.

 

[Liplovinman]

The message from Carol Harris was on his machine when he returned to his rooms. He could make out most of it, but dreaded having to call her to discern the remainder. Father Thomas had left the rectory late, his note said he expected to be gone some time. Would Father Patric consent to take his place for the time of his absence?

Patric had never carried a cell phone. He did not like the manner it consumed the minds of those that carried them. It was personal preference as well, and common knowledge. But how had Carol Harris found his number? He'd left strict instructions that Father Thomas was the only one to have it - for emergency only.

The second message was from Father Thomas.

"Good God man, she is the devil, I tell you - a witch if ever I have seen..... Pat, I've got to go, but you need to be careful of her. I don't know what she has in mind, but I expect she will come to visit you as well.... I've got to seek absolution, or punishment... is this why you left? I can understand if you don't want to return, I certainly cannot discuss sin, not any longer, not with this..... this... on my hands." He heard Father Thomas begin to cry.

"I've told her where you are... I'm sorry Pat, truly sorry." He had mumbled something else before trying to get the phone back on the cradle, crying yet again.

So, Carol Harris had brought trouble for Father Thomas? He would deal with the gossip in an appropriate manner. There was nothing godly about the way she responded to the clergy, for some reason she felt above them. But what had she done to send Father Thomas off the edge? He would call in the morning, he needed time to think about his response.

 

[kimberlee]

I found a sitter for Jeffery, my son. Mom wouldn't be able to care for him like she had the other night. I kissed him and gave instructions with the babysitter before I felt somewhat comfortable at leaving him tonight.

I'd expected to receive Patric's new address - his phone number was a definite bonus. Then again, the way Father Thomas had taken me like a man possessed that third time - little urging on my part, mind - had perhaps surprised the both of us.

I'd called the number and had been treated to the sound of Patric's voice. I'd wanted to leave a message; but, just couldn't seem to find the words. I called a second time only to feel the same sense that some recorded verbal message would lack something of the personal touch. I finally decided that a stroll about the college and maybe a stop at its library might do me some good - and if I happened upon my currently favorite religious historian...

As I walked, I wondered what Patric would make of my sudden reappearance into his life or how I'd managed to get there. I'm sure my return to using sex as a crutch or weapon would be much more on his mind.

Still, it couldn't be completely and horribly wrong. I remember how subdued Father Thomas had been the following day at mass. His bleary red eyes wouldn't meet mine throughout the service and his tone had become much more sober stating that we all were children of sin and none of us exempt from its temptations. It was a big improvement from the 'holier than thou' attitude he used to portray; but, maybe that's because I'd heard the man swear while he'd pounded the six inches he had to offer into me over and over again with a fire I hadn't thought he had.

I was on the university grounds. Dad always said that the early bird catches the worm. It was past dinner time, so perhaps the saying didn't apply; but, I'd become anxious with my new found knowledge and had decided to take matters into my own hands in hopes of seeing my dear Patric again.

 

[Liplovinman]

Patric always found solice in the books of the library, he pulled his key, should they need to lock up for the night. He might find advice or even a sign if he stared at the tomes with enough fervor. He moved across the campus, blissfully unaware of any bystanders. His mind was a cloud, would he really consider taking over Father Thomas' parish, even short term? He did not feel he was in any position to counsel or absolve anyone. While he could not cloister himself, there would be interation with Carol Harris, Kimberly as well. He did not know which of the two he should fear more. The one intent upon judging his actions, or the one that might make him breach the trust that was in question.

He walked slowly toward the library, using the side entrance. Patric did not want to be disturbed, and if the librarian did not know he was there, so much the better. The religious wing was small and enclosed. The lock was made to look antique, but accepted his key easily. Quiet was at more of a premium that the history of the building. The humidity control and lighting were a necessity with these books. He found his desk, pulled several volumes at random and began to read.

 

[kimberlee]

I stared at the librarian as though she spoke some strange language. Not here? She had to be wrong. I'd heard Patric's voice on the answering machine and Father Thomas had told me he'd been assigned here. I began doubting Thomas when I heard the librarian say, "I haven't seen him today. He's fairly quiet and tends to keep to himself."

"Where might he be if not here?" I asked, hoping I didn't sound as desperate as I felt.

"I can't say as I know miss," she replied.

My joy at having found him once again deflated. I hadn't realized until then just how much I'd been looking forward to seeing him again. "Oh," I sighed. "Thanks for your help."

"Sorry I wasn't able to help," she replied.

I backed away from the 'Information Desk' and scanned the room. I couldn't remember the last time I'd been in a library. The building stood at least three stories high. I shook my head trying to imagine the time it would take one to read ALL the books it held. On the other hand, I could only too easilly imagine Father Patric taking me between its shelves - and I imagined that few roamed the religious section.

I shook the thoughts from my head and slowly walked out the door. Patric wasn't like that, I told myself. He was special. He cared about me. Still, thoughts of that one heated kiss we'd shared before we'd been interupted sent shivers through me.

I closed my eyes to push away such thoughts. I quickly opened them as the memory of Father Thomas' wide-eyed hunger as he'd initiated that third sex session arose. In the end, Thomas hadn't really seen me as a person; but as a vessel into which he could pour his seed. I hoped and prayed it wouldn't be like that with Patric.

Haunted by that memory - he was a priest after all and I'd surely go to hell for having tempted him as I had.

I found my way to the catholic chapel on campus and knelt for a time in prayer, hoping that perhaps I wasn't completely beyond redemption.

 

[Liplovinman]

The hour grew late, the librarian would have locked up some time ago. Patric had been reading and rereading the same few pages with repetition, gathering nothing more from them with each successive pass. He was tired, weary and in no better frame of mind to answer Carol Harris' question. Father Thomas might have put her up to it, but whatever Carol had done to cause Father Thomas to leave in such haste, Patric was not anxious to discover.

He walked again through the grey of the evening, the cool breeze giving him back some energy. His stroll took him to the chapel, where he would say his evening prayers before retiring. He thought it odd that the chapel remainded open at all hours, it suited his timing this evening. Patric knelt at the prayer pew, with only 50 seats, the chapel had not been intended for services, there were several churches nearby. This was a sanctuary for those of faith to pray. Denomination was not intended to include or exclude anyone. This harbor suited anyone in need, and apparently, Patric was not the only one at this hour to seek guidance, forgiveness or penance.