I'm a priest and sworn to a vow of secrecy, but what happened to me is too good a story not to tell. I've changed the names of course.
It was a weekday and I was in my study in the presbytery working on my sermon for the next Sunday. The doorbell went and there was Moira. She and her husband Tom had visited me regularly for help and advice. Tom was always either unemployed, drunk or both, and I'd helped their marriage through some difficulties. It was obvious there was something troubling her.
I sat her in one of the big soft black leather armchairs in my study. I sat in the other armchair opposite her with a coffee table in between. I'd hoped sitting relaxed in the peace and privacy of my study would help put her at ease. She was in a short grey skirt and the way she was sitting had pulled it quite high up her tan nylon clad thighs. Moira's late twenties, an age at which she could almost be my daughter. She's quite a beauty, with dark brown hair loose to her shoulders, an innocent face with a few freckles and big brown eyes. She's got a good figure too, with big breasts and good legs. Her thin white blouse was tight over her curves and showed the outline of a dark bra underneath. Though I'm a priest I'm still a man, and I must confess I'd had sinful thoughts about Moira. I tried to keep my eyes of her legs as her skirt steadily crept higher up her thighs.
"It's about Tom, Father," she began.
I readied myself for yet another sad story. But instead she rummaged in her bag, pulled out a magazine and tossed it onto the coffee table. It was a "Men's" magazine. On the front cover was a picture of a blonde girl in a tiny red bikini with her thumb hooked over the top of her bikini briefs as if she was about to pull them down. To say the least I was taken aback. I didn't let on that I had that same magazine in my desk drawer, together with my collection of women's panties. Celibacy can be hard.
"I found this hidden away in the garage," Moira continued. She flipped open the magazine to a set of pictures of a girl looking scarcely out of her teens slowly peeling off a schoolgirl outfit. "My husband's been looking at girls like this and jacking off over them, the dirty bastard."
She flicked more pages of pictures of women doing shameful things. I tried to keep my eyes off the magazine, but in doing so I realised that Moira's skirt had worked so high up her thigh I could see stocking tops and bare thigh above. I felt my lustful urges rise and my penis begin to stiffen. Moira continued.
"You know what jacking off is, don't you Father? It's when a man pleasures his erect penis with his hand till his semen squirts."
Moira didn't need to tell me what jacking off is. I'd been jacking off over the lingerie pictures in my mother's clothes catalogues since before I was an altar boy. In fact just the night before I'd been jacking off over that schoolgirl. I tried not to let my face show it.
"Don't tell me you don't jack off Father. All men do it, and all men like looking at naked women. "
I tried to steer the conversation away from my masturbation habits.
"Moira, many men have a problem with pornography. A good Catholic woman must stay firm to her marital vows and forgive ..."
Moira didn't let me finish.
"Forgive!" she snorted scornfully. "Father you've got me wrong. I want to get even with the dirty bastard. I want a man to watch me undress, see me nude and jack off over me like he does over his pictures."
"Moira ..." I began again, but she interrupted, which was fortunate as I had no idea how I was going to finish the sentence.
"Don't tell me you don't want to Father. Don't think I haven't noticed how you look at me in church."
My face went red. In church she wore skirts thin and tight enough to show the outline of her panties, with heels that made her bottom wiggle with her steps. My eyes had often strayed. On Sundays my priests robe hid my bulging erection but I obviously hadn't been able to hide my lustful thoughts. Moira had often been the subject of my masturbation fantasies as I'd soaked the panties in my drawer with my semen while fantasising about seeing her in them and pulling them off her.
"You jack off thinking of me, don't you Father?" It was as if she'd read my thoughts.
Then, sitting in that armchair, Moira swung her legs as wide as she could get them, pulling her skirt high up her thighs. I saw stocking tops, bare thigh above and black lace panties sheer enough to show the dark shadow of her pubic hair through. My eyes locked involuntarily on her panties.
"Ever seen a woman's knickers, Father?"
I wasn't going to tell her about the panties in my desk..
Moira suddenly stood, fumbled with the zip and clasp of her skirt, let her skirt drop, kicked it aside and stood with her legs wide. She lifted her blouse to show me her panties and her stocking tops, then rocked sensuously on her heels as she slowly unbuttoned her blouse from the top and slipped it off her shoulders, leaving her in a skimpy black bra that only just held her big breasts, stockings and high heels, and those see through black panties. She stood there wide legged.
"Touch me, Father. You want to, don't you?"
I know I should have stopped her then, but Moira knew men. She knew that once I'd seen her in her underwear and stockings and that peep of her cunt in the privacy of my study, I couldn't resist. I'd been sitting watching her, but at her invitation I rose and went to her, my priestly vows forgotten at the opportunity to have a woman.
I ran my hands over the smooth black satin tight over her breasts, feeling her peaking nipples through the thin cloth. I reached behind her and ran my hands over the delicious round curves of the bottom I'd so often ogled through her panties, and ran my exploring fingertips along the hem of her panties across her buttocks. I ran my fingers right under her from behind along the gusset of her panties to tickle her vagina from behind, just like the porn stories I'd read said men did and women loved. She liked it too - she gasped as I stroked the line of her slit through the lace. Saving the greatest pleasure till last I ran my hand down her soft smooth front, fondled the bulge of her sex mound and felt her vagina slit through her panties, then slid my hand down inside her panties and cupped my hand over her moist furry mound. She moaned with pleasure as I ran my fingers along the smooth wet lips of her vagina.
"Mmmmmmm," she purred. "You know how a woman likes to be touched, Father! Have you been a naughty boy?"
Moira reached pulled the her panties down round her thighs so they rakishly underlined her thick full triangle of dark pubic hair.
"There Father. Your first sight of a woman's naked cunt! Now you can be a naughty boy!"