I have been a Catholic all of my life. I have done what any good Catholic girl would do -- attend mass every Wednesday and Sunday, involve myself in the volunteer community, and most importantly, serve the church. Before college, I served in the church choir and made sure to help Father Paul with anything that he needed. Father Paul was a kind man -- traditional but not restrictive. He knew we participated in society and occasionally fell ill to the evils of the world we live in. I felt comfortable in confessional with him, I felt comfortable telling him how I fell into the occasional temptation. When Father Paul retired, I was entering college, and everything changed.
Not only was I enveloped in a college environment filled with sin and temptation, but I had to come to terms with Father John. Father John was a punitive and radical man. In our church services, he pushed chastity and obedience. He disregarded the society we lived in and pushed us young women to become the traditional and chaste women that the church required centuries ago. He made us women sign vows of chastity and promise to serve the church four times a week. He was judgmental in the confessional booths and shamed the women that chose to live a modern life. I knew better than to tell Father John my sins. I wasn't ready to be shamed for the modern and liberal life I chose to pursue. I was receiving an education that forced me to look outside of the society I grew up in, I met new friends who did not participate in the life I lived, and more than anything, I met men.
I drank alcohol for the first time last Saturday, and as I slowly became more disinhibited, I began eyeing my classmate from my Communications class at a frat party. The world was closing in around me as I dripped sweat, swaying my hips and dancing as I flaunted my body to the men and women around me. I had never felt this liberated or sexual. My roommate let me borrow a low-cut top that night, and I could feel my exposed breasts bounce as I jumped around with my friends.
My classmate approached me and began to touch my waist. I had never felt the touch of a man so close before this. He clenched tighter to me as he drew closer. I could feel my breasts on his body and his leg between my thighs. We danced as we looked into each other's eyes, and we both knew what we wanted. He began to kiss my neck as I grabbed onto him and swayed with the music. Finding a drunken bravery within ourselves, we began to make out heavily. I could feel the heat rise in my body as I felt his tongue enter my mouth, kissing me in a way no one ever kissed me before. In fact, I had never been kissed with tongue before. He grabbed my face with his hand as he continued to make out with me, his other hand inching to my ass. He squeezed my ass as his tongue made me forget the world around me. In the dimly lit frat basement, he decided to inch his tongue down my mouth, onto my neck, and eventually onto my breasts.
I could feel him kissing and licking my breasts as I discovered a new feeling that I could not place. I felt a heat between my legs, and I began to feel something throb. And it was like he knew exactly what to do with that throbbing feeling. In a crowded and dark room full of wasted young college students, we both knew no one was paying attention to us. He moved one of his hands down to my thighs and began to slowly inch his way up to my pussy, clasping my pussy with his hand on top of my jeans. He began rubbing my pussy as I felt my throbbing grow harder, and his tongue kept trying to slip behind my low-cut top and bra onto my nipple. With his other hand, he cupped my breast so that he could position his tongue closer to my nipple. He heard my immediate moans and knew I was begging for more.
He abruptly stopped his actions and held my hand, leaving the basement with me and guiding me to an upper room. We entered a bedroom and locked the door behind us. As he threw me on the bed to continue making out, he hurriedly grabbed the front of my jeans and began unzipping them. He pulled my jeans down and I began to understand just how wet my pussy had become under my underwear. He palmed my underwear and began rubbing me from the outside. I began to moan as my juices soaked my underwear. Taking this as a sign to graduate to the next step, he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans, taking down both his underwear and jeans in one fell swoop. I still felt dizzy from the alcohol, and I could feel him stumbling towards me. He nearly ripped my underwear off, then spitting onto my pussy and rubbing it around my opening. He then grabbed his cock and stuck his tip inside of me. I nearly screamed, as I could not understand what this feeling was or how it came about so quickly.
I had never had a man's cock inside of me before, and in the back of my head, I felt as if I wasn't ready. He pushed himself inside of me as I moaned a combination of pleasure and pain. He wasn't big by any means, but with my virgin pussy, everything was a shock. He began thrusting inside of me as he reached places I had never known existed, and as I felt my body begin to sweat and a heat rise inside of me, I could tell he was feeling the same. He began moaning louder and louder and soon took himself out of me. I imagined he had to stop for some reason, possibly due to pain or some discomfort. However, his body clenched as he held onto his cock, and he let out an enormous moan as he squirted his cum all over my mound and the outside of my pussy. I stared drunkenly at him as he finished, unsure of what I was supposed to do now or how I should be feeling.
The room was spinning as I felt a mixture of pleasure, confusion, and shame. He had made me feel a heat and pleasure that I had never felt before, but I felt as if I had gone nowhere with it. Was it supposed to be this quick? What is supposed to feel this way? I felt an incredible shame for feeling any pleasure at all, and yet a part of me still felt unfulfilled. Was this all that the dishonorable women of the church searched for? A few seconds of pleasure? More importantly, how was I supposed to return to church next week knowing that I had committed the ultimate sin? That I gave my body to a stranger and not to God?
I wrestled with this turmoil for the next few days, and on Wednesday during my service to the church, I confided in my friend, Anna, over what had surpassed. I told her my accident, my sin, and the shame of knowing that I stood before God as a sinner. She was understanding yet chastising. She reminded me of Father John's sermons and how "whores" would find no place in heaven. I hung my head in shame as I wrestled with my mistake. A mistake that brought no pleasure to me in the end. A mistake that could jeopardize everything that I had worked for at the church all these years. How was I going to atone for my sins?
I couldn't bring this to the confessional booth, I was too scared for how Father John would treat me for my sins. However, it turns out that the power was not in my hands. As I was instructing the children's church choir on Saturday, Father John burst the doors of the church open, striding down the aisle with a determination and intensity that I had never seen before. He looked at me sternly as he rushed in front of me, slamming his hand to close my music book on the podium and looking into my eyes with his icy stare.
"I need to see you tomorrow after the final service," he growled.
Staring into his piercing blue eyes, terrified for what was to come, I let out a meek "yes, sir" as I nodded my head.
"Good," he concurred, as he rushed off with the same speed he entered. I always knew he was a stern man, but I had never seen him with this level of fury.
The final church service came the next day, and I felt myself sitting in the pews, feeling the wrath of Father John's stare more than usual. As he spoke of damnation and obedience, I could see him search for my gaze with every heavy word. It was as if he tailored this sermon for me, searching for my reaction with every statement. He prayed for the sinners in the room, and I couldn't help but feel that he knew I was one. I feel like he knew every secret of mine. I felt naked as he looked upon me, showering me with shame and regret. I felt an odd heat with all of the attention he was giving me. As he spoke about twisted punishment for those who veer off of the holy path, I couldn't help but feel that same throb I felt at the night of the party.
As the sermon ended, I meekly approached his office, my heart pounding in my chest and my hands shaking for the damnation he was going to send me to. I knocked on the door and he let out a stern exclamation to let me in. As I stepped foot into his office, I could feel the air change. He gazed directly into me, never taking his eyes off of me, as I could see a mix of anger, determination, and something else in his stare.
"Close the door," he ordered.
I did as he said, and I slowly inched my way to where he sat at his desk. The luminescent lights of the office reflected on his salt and pepper hair, and I saw his broad shoulders and toned forearms in a way I had never seen them before. He had an air of righteous fury and human greed around him. He was all God and all man tonight.
"Do you know why I asked you to see me tonight?"
"No, sir," I whispered back.
"Don't lie to me. Not here."
"Sir, I..."
"Don't fucking lie to me. I know where you put that dirty mouth of yours last weekend."
"How, how did you..."
"How do you think? Those who walk the path of righteousness know to seek me for guidance. Anna was absolutely horrified by what you did with that man."
"Father, I was just having fun..."
"Don't call me Father. I'm no Father to you." As he arose from his chair and crossed the desk towards me, he exclaimed, "How DARE you disrespect me that way. How DARE you give your body to another man."
He now stood directly in front of me, toppling over me as I smell his aftershave and feel his hot breath.
