AUTHOR'S NOTE: Readers from the UK (and possibly other regions) may recognize this classic joke from its appearance in an old beer commercial in the 90s. Writing it down on Literotica allows certain extra details to be added to it
Don Gabriele was just finishing tending to his vines when he heard has name being shouted from the bottom of the hill. He straightened up slowly. Every year his back protested a little more. This would be the last year he grew his own grapes, he decided. If only the hill wasn't so high. It would be a pity, tending the soil brought you closer to God, as the old bishop always used to say. Still he felt plenty close enough to God these days at the best of times. Perhaps it was time for a rest.
His eyes weren't what they once were either and it wasn't until the lad was right on top of him that he recognized who it was who was searching for him: Emilia's boy, now what was his name? Leonardo? Lorenzo? No, no, Leondro, that was it. They all grew up so fast these days. He could have sworn it was only yesterday that Leondro had been playing with his little toy airplane in the fields behind the church and now, here he was, a big strapping lad; worked at the hotel if he remembered right. He was a good kid, uncomplicated, and nice to his mother, but Gabriele couldn't help but notice he had grown-up a little too tall, a little too handsome, and a little too muscular. If he could see that with his eyes, such as they were, the girls of the village certainly had. And maybe their mothers too.
The lad had run all the way up the hill and was now seriously short of breath. "Padre, padre. Thank God I found you. I've been looking for you everywhere. There is something I must tell you. It's really important."
He sought confession then. Confession was the only place the youth would tell an old man anything. It was not the hour but the priest could hardly refuse. "Come then, my child," the priest said. "Let us go to the church together."
They started to walk together, the lad constantly struggling to match his pace to that of the old man.
"Padre. Last night there was a big party at the hotel. To celebrate its hundredth anniversary. Well, you know Signora Isabella, the wife of the gardener. Well, she was there wearing this dress. It was red, and well, the dress showed a lot of, well..." Leondro made an hour-glass shaped movement with his hands.
"No, no," said the priest. "Wait until we get to church." The lad was horny, it was normal enough, especially considering Isabella. It wasn't so long ago that Gabriele had sinful thoughts of his own about that one. Even those had faded now though.
"No, no, but you don't understand, padre. As I was looking at her, she started looking at me, all strangle like, and then she invited me into the garden to look at her artichokes. And then, when we were there, she started touching me and then she got it out and started to kiss it." There was no need for the boy to say what 'it' was. There had been no need to gesture either, but being Italian, his expressive hand movements momentarily attracted the attention of an elderly lady carrying a huge basket of parsnips.
"Yes, yes. It is good that you found me, but this is not the place. Wait until we get to the church." It was as the priest had feared. How much easier was it for the beautiful to sin? Only eighteen and already guilty of adultery. Still, he had barely waited for dawn to come for confession. His soul would be fine.