Confession

Prompt Day #329: Embarrass a priest

Confession

                Father Murphy walked up to the pulpit as he did every Sunday morning. The music that played his procession quieted as he approached. He started by perusing his notes and then looked up. The first thing he saw was the man-sized Raccoon sitting in the congregation. Of course it wasn’t a real raccoon, it was a “Furry” one of his parishioners dressed in a mascot like fur suit pretending to be a raccoon. Father Murphy remembered that particular confession well. It was the first time he found himself becoming aroused by a confession and did the unthinkable; he masturbated during the confession. He’d never heard of the Furry lifestyle, but as the man explained the sexual attractions and sex with each other while in the suits, the taboo nature of it overcame his senses.

It was his first purposeful orgasm and it was amazing. He knew it was a sin and immediately repented and asked the Lord for forgiveness. But then, the Furry came in two weeks later after experimenting with sex with a stuffed animal and Father Murphy found himself unbuttoning his pants.

After that, he’d put a box of tissues in his side of the confessional and some hand sanitizer for quick and easy clean up. Having given into his carnal desires, he found his sexual appetite twisting into further perversions, living vicariously through his congregations’ sins.

“Father Murphy?” a voice asked from the pews. He jumped startled out of his memories. The Furry was gone. He began his sermon.

The movement caught his eye and he looked up from his notes. There was Phil Kernitz walking down the aisle to take his seat in the third row just like he always had before he died. Phil died in the arms of a prostitute. He was dressed in a diaper and she was “breast feeding” him when he had the heart attack. Father Murphy knew of these sexual trysts and had came three times during Phil’s last confession. The family had kept the nature of his death quiet and besides himself, only his wife and brother knew.

But there was Phil, dead for eight months, walking down the aisle in his diaper, bib, and baby bonnet. Father Murphy was shocked to find that his dick was stirring in his pants at the thought of the day Phil told the story.

His face flushed with shame and arousal as he adjusted his body to stand directly behind the podium. There were the Kennedys sitting in the back too. The Kennedys, as far as Father Murphy knew had left town some time ago after word of their swinger parties began circulating. Jay Kennedy had gotten a young college student pregnant at one of these parties. Marcy Kennedy paid for and drove the girl to the abortion clinic. Father Murphy had blessed them both and assigned their penance. He did not do his own penance for the chronic masturbation he began after hearing these confessions.

What were they all doing here? Had they come back to haunt him? Were they visions sent by the Lord himself to force a confession? After the Kennedys, he’d stop praying. Stopped talking to God. He was ashamed; he knew what he was doing was wrong. Most importantly, if he did pray for forgiveness, he would have to admit to both himself and God, that lately, he’d been considering options for sexual satisfaction above and beyond masturbation. In fact, he would have to admit that he’d been thinking a lot about Bradley Jameson, his thirteen year old altar boy.

“Father? Are you alright?” Another voice from the congregation. He looked up and saw Carl Rossiter who had recently confessed to taking photos of little girls at dance recitals and masturbating to them. Father Murphy had shared in Carl’s pedophilic fantasies. But Carl committed suicide three weeks ago after an accusation by a little girl at the school where he was a custodian. Carl had no business asking Father Murphy if he was ok. Carl was certainly NOT ok.

“No. No. You aren’t here, and Phil isn’t here. The Raccoon is just a hallucination! I’m sorry, I’m sorry and it was wrong. I have sinned. I have sinned against you all. I have given in to the pleasures of the flesh. I have experienced carnal gratification from the tales of your sins, your immoral thoughts and deeds. I have climaxed in ecstasy at the same time you laid your deeds at my feet begging for forgiveness. As I gave you penance, I gave myself release.

I am a sinner standing before you even now with a blood filled member throbbing for the touch of a palm, mine or perhaps Bradley’s even. I’m so overcome with lust.”

He pulled the robes off his sweaty body, panting in frustration. He peered out over the crowd of shocked parishioners. Jaws hanging agape. He felt his hard-on soften with the realization of all he had just confessed in his wanton fervor. Good Lord what had he done? The group in front of him contained no lost souls. There was no Raccoon mascot, no dead perverts, none of the immoral swingers who had ran away from town gossip. Just a confused and now angrily murmuring crowd.

The flush that colored his face was now sheer embarrassment with no trace of desire. In fact the thought of the garbage bag filled with crusty tissues currently sitting in his office, hidden under his desk left him with a deep, nauseating pit in his gut. He felt his penis and testicles pull into his body as if embarrassed for him.

His congregation filed out of the church one by one, Bradley Jameson’s mother holding onto her son’s arm tightly as they all literally stomped out of the church. Father Murphy reached up to pull the white tab out of his collar and wondered where the Kennedy’s had moved to.

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