When I was in college, I "discovered" my sexual orientation, as if I didn't know that I liked guys, and despite being a "good" Catholic boy. One summer, home from college, I was cantoring for Masses at my church when a new priest arrived. His name was Father Paul, and from the minute I saw him, I had the hots for him. He was a young, good looking blond, and in black clerical garb, he became even hotter: his black pants showed his ass to perfection.
The first weekend I saw him, I knew I wanted to be with him. And while Mass went on, I could feel his eyes on me, too...or was it my imagination? After Mass, it was a hot Sunday in July, I was talking with a few other people after Mass, and I told them I was going home to jump in the pool. Father Paul was there, and told me how much he would like to do so, too. So I invited him over to the house for that Friday, his day off.
When Friday arrived, I was in shorts and sneakers, as I had to cut the lawn. A white sports car pulled up in my parents' driveway and out jumped...Father Paul??? He was dressed in crotch high cut off jeans, a string athletic shirt, high top work boots and white gym socks; less a priest and more like the hustlers I was used to sucking off on Christopher Street.
"Hi, John," he said. I was pretty sweaty, and I felt his eyes all over me.
"Hi Father," I said. "Hungry?"
"Oh yeah, but I don't know if what I want is on the menu for lunch," he said.
"I think I know what you want," I said.
"Oh really, smart ass Catholic college boy," Father Paul responded, "what do I want?"
I looked him in the eye and said, "MY DICK..." He looked at me and stammered, "How did you know...." but before I could answer, I went over to him, and we were in each other’s arms kissing. It felt so good being in his arms, with our tongues thrashing against each other’s.
We went inside into my room, and we slowly undressed. We both laughed a bit as we both had jockstraps on. I pulled the strap on his, and as it smacked against his ass, he said to me, “Oh, you bad boy, Father is going to have to spank you..."
As he smacked my ass, I moaned, "Oh yeah, Father...harder..." Soon the jockstraps were off, and our throbbing cocks were rubbing against each other. I was moaning, and Father Paul was moaning. Before long, he was licking my armpits and nipples, and, as I watched, he descended between my legs. His tongue licked my cock, and I moaned even louder. Despite the fact he was a priest, he obviously knew what he was doing, and it was pretty obvious that he really loved sucking cock.
"Oh John, you taste so good," he said when he came up for air. Then he swung his legs around, and I got my first taste of a priest's dick. We 69'd each other, both of us moaning in pleasure. He pulled his dick away from me, and concentrated on sucking me. I was ready to cum, and groaned as I filled his mouth with my cum.
"Oh John, that tasted so good," Father Paul told me, after taking his mouth off my dick. As he looked me in the eye and kissed me, I said, "Fuck me, Father..." We kissed again, and he rolled me on my stomach. The next thing I felt was his tongue lubricating my ass, going in deeper and deeper, his kisses all over my butt cheeks. I rolled onto my back again, putting my feet on his shoulders, and I felt him as he entered me, his dick throbbing. I looked into his eyes and at his face as he did me: I couldn't believe this guy was a priest, as he fucked like a porn star. He was breathing heavier, moaning, "Oh John..oh John...oh yeah...." I knew he was getting ready to cum, so I told him, "Oh Father, shoot it in my face....” He pulled his dick from my ass, I grabbed it, and in seconds he shot his load into my mouth and in my face. After he came, he licked the rest of his cum off my face, and kissed me.
We spent the rest of the afternoon kissing and talking, and I asked him about all his other partners, most of whom were priests. (The thought of two priests in bed turned me on; telling me about several priests together in bed gets me really excited!) While it felt like minutes, it turned out to be hours, and I looked at the clock, and said, "Oh man, I gotta get to work!" We dressed quickly, and Father Paul left me. For that day, at least. I invited him over to go swimming the next week and the week after that, until I went back to college that Fall. But the strange thing was, Father Paul and I never got into the pool.
