I was so horrified that our priest had seen me on the bus with a young man's hand on my thigh while my husband, Bill, looked on. Bill swore that Father Mick hadn't seen anything, but I wasn't so sure. He had been his usual jovial self on the bus, but it kept running through my head over and over again that he just couldn't have missed what was going on. I wondered how and why my normal life seemed to be changing so fast and spinning out of control. Bill just seemed to want more and more from me, and I didn't know how much more I could give. I was beginning to feel like a common wanton whore, or something along those lines, and it wasn't comfortable for me.
I didn't tell Bill, but I had been turned on almost continuously since I had flashed the men on the bus. I just seemed to be in a perpetual state of arousal, and that was not a normal state for me. I didn't let on to Bill, but I think he knew, as he made love to me three nights in a row, and I was soaking wet the first time he touched me each of those nights. I also had very powerful orgasms quickly. There was almost no buildup to my orgasms. I was just so turned on already that I came almost as soon as Bill started playing with my vagina. It was the thought of those men seeing my bare vagina, and although I tried, I couldn't stop thinking that those young men on their way to their Rugby game had wanted to have sex with me after their game. It quite excited me thinking of both of them having their way with me. I tried to push the thoughts out of my mind, but they just seemed to creep back in. Their young, hard, naked bodies filled my head with bad thoughts.
On the Thursday following that weekend, I beat Bill home from work as he had numerous errands to run, and I was using the bathroom, going number one. As I wiped myself, I felt my wetness smear against the toilet paper. I couldn't help but reach down between my legs and touch myself, and I was amazed at how wet my vagina was from my natural lubrication. It felt very good when I ran my fingers lightly up and down my vagina, especially right around the opening. I couldn't help but lightly touch the hard nub of my clitoris. Before I knew what had happened, my body shook as I climaxed, sitting on the toilet seat. I try not to do such things, as it makes me feel bad about myself and a bit guilty afterwards. But it just seemed that once I started I couldn't stop, and then I just climaxed before I could gain control of myself. I washed my hands thoroughly and smoothed my skirt before I returned to the kitchen.
Just as I was beginning to think about what to make for dinner, I heard the doorbell ring. Wondering who it might be, I went to the door and glanced out through the window before opening the door. Much to my dismay, it was Father Mick. I composed myself and answered the door and greeted him with as much cheer as I could muster.
He seemed himself and gave no indication that he was mad or upset with me, and that gave me some relief. I invited him in, and offered him iced tea, which he gladly accepted. I went into the kitchen to get the iced tea as he settled himself on the couch.
When I came back in with our tea, I asked him what brought him to our home for a visit. He told me that he was concerned by what he had seen on the bus the previous weekend, and that he was coming by to check that everything was alright with Bill and me. My greatest fear was realized! He had seen everything.
I began crying, and told Father Mick that I was so sorry. I told him that I felt humiliated, and I told him that sometimes Bill gave me hard choices to make between being a good wife and doing things that I didn't think were right.
"Like what you were doing on the bus, Fran?" he asked me.
"Yes, Father. Like what I was doing on the bus," I sobbed.
"What, exactly, were you doing on the bus?" Father asked, looking directly at me. "I saw that a young man had his hand on your bare leg, and Bill was not doing anything to stop it."
"Bill wanted me to let men on the bus see up my skirt, Father. I don't know how, but he just talked me into it." I wrung my hands and hung my head in shame. "That young man had seen up my skirt, Father, and he was making an advance. I certainly wouldn't have let it go any further."
"There is certainly no shame or sin in a man seeing your underwear, Fran," Father told me. I knew I could leave it at that, but I felt that I had to be completely honest in order to get it off my chest.
I hung my head and looked at the floor. "I wasn't wearing any underwear, Father." I felt humiliated. "I took my panties off before I got on the bus."
"Hmmm," I heard him say. When he didn't say anything more, I looked up at him. Father looked as though there was something he wanted to say and as I sat across from him, I waited expectantly. I wanted forgiveness.
"Fran," he finally said. "I'm not sure I understand what you mean. You were on the bus, and you deliberately let men look up your dress? And you did this while not wearing any panties?"
"Yes, Father. Please forgive me." I looked at him pleadingly.
"In order to forgive you, Mary, I need to understand your motives. Why did you do that, what you did on the bus?"
"Because Bill had bullied me, Father. He told me I was an old fuddy-duddy if I wouldn't do it." Father chuckled.
"And how did you go about this task, dear?" he asked.
"I took the seat across from two men, twice, and let my legs fall open so they could see up my skirt." Without thinking, in order to illustrate I opened my knees slightly. I blushed.
"Well, I can't see anything, Fran. Perhaps they never saw anything, either," he said, looking directly at my knees.
"My legs were further apart, Father," I said.
"How far apart, Fran?" Father asked. "Show me."
"I'm not sure I should, Father." I stuttered.
"Certainly you can, Fran. It won't hurt anything or anyone. No one else will know, only you and I."
I opened my legs a bit further. "They were open even more than this, Father Mick," I told him, looking away.
"I really still don't see anything improper," he said. "Are you sure they saw anything?"
"Well, my skirt was quite a bit shorter, Father."
