Deciding To Join Mrs Tupas Parish

[This is a continuation of the Mrs. Tupa stories. These stories are absolutely not for everyone, so please look elsewhere if you do not enjoy reading about bodily fluids and matter, oral-anal contact, strong smells, prurient priests and nuns, and elderly widows. I humbly request that you do not down-vote this story, just because you may have issues with it. This could have also been placed in the anal, mature, or even romance categories, but fetish seems the most broadly-inclusive for this story's fixations. All characters in this story are over 18. This is purely a fantasy, and bears very little resemblance to reality. Please enjoy. ]

There would be no shortage of eager new friends

The morning after my passionate evening with Mrs. Tupa and her good friend Mrs. Gavenda, I called the church Rectory as early as I dared and set up an appointment with Father Viktor to discuss possibly joining his congregation. I wished to learn more about what it might entail. I felt drawn to learn all I could about the Customs and "old ways" of Bohemia, as practiced and preserved in this unique parish of Czech immigrants from the Old Country.

The Bohemian community in our corner of the Midwestern Rust Belt was socially active and steeped in a tradition of caring for each other, but it was sadly shrinking as its members were typically advanced in age and many of their children and grandchildren had taken off to live their lives elsewhere. It badly needed new blood and young members to help attend to the needs of the aging widows who made up the vast majority of its congregants.

When my mother had suggested that I help out our next door neighbor by mowing her lawn and playing cards with her several evenings a week, she had no inkling that Mrs. Tupa had other pastimes in mind. Pastimes of a rather prurient and depraved nature that she quickly seduced me into playing with her. I soon came to realize that these practices and customs of an extremely earthy and erotic sort were, in fact, rationalized and justified as Bohemian folkways of a humble yet mystical nature.

The Bohemian Catholic church as preserved in Father Viktor's parish was only able to carry on by a Vatican dispensation to continue their quirky traditions in private, drawing no attention to themselves, while the greater Church hierarchy chose to cast their gaze elsewhere.

I was only 18 and still living at home while attending community college, but my hormones were coursing through my veins, a fact that had not been lost on Mrs. Tupa. Early on in our increasingly intimate friendship, Anna had confessed our erotic games to Father Viktor, who had given her penances to perform involving "mortification of the flesh." He also wished us to come by the Rectory so that we could receive his instruction in the proper performance of anal love, a practice that the parish preferred over vaginal sex. I was greatly impressed by his hands-on demonstration for us with Mother Magdalene, the Mother Superior of the parish's nunnery.

* * *

When I showed up at 2:00 pm at the Rectory's front door for my appointment, I was promptly ushered into Father Viktor's office, not the Rectory parlor, perhaps for reasons of greater privacy. He greeted me warmly and showed me to a comfortable chair facing his desk, while he returned to his desk chair behind it. He was as welcoming and charismatic as he had been on my first visit to the Rectory, but now there was a sense of serious intent, perhaps summoned by what was at stake.

"So, our good friend Jack, I gather that you have been giving serious thought to joining our community with a calling to help serve our congregation?"

"Yes, Father, I have. The more that I have met your church members and seen their sincerity and simple needs, the more I have felt drawn to serving them in a spirit of love."

Father Viktor, gave me a piercing look, as if trying to discern whether I was bull-shitting him or really committed to pitching in and comforting his flock.

"Well Jack, I must say that everyone who I have sent your way to test your vocation for serving their needs, has praised you to the high heavens. Several indicated that they would be heartbroken if you were not embraced by our fellowship and fully trained in our ways.

"God knows, we are sorely understaffed, and it is all I can do to look after the needs of our nunnery and the good Mother. We desperately need young laity dedicated to servicing... er, serving our congregation. Both young men and women, to be sure, but especially young men. If you can commit to this service, I can offer you room and board here in our Rectory, and a small stipend at your own disposal. We could even arrange for you to continue your studies part-time at the community college, once you complete your instruction for your membership and lay service here. What do you think?"

"That sounds wonderful, Father. I just need to break the news to my parents, who may be surprised by all this. They are hardly church-goers and may be shocked by my wish to follow this path. There may be some resistance."

"I quite understand, Jack. If you would like for me to speak with them and ease your transition, do not fail to let me know. I will do everything in my power to support you, put your instruction on the fast track, and introduce you to our congregation. I am certain that your loving service of our members will be greatly appreciated."

* * *

My decision to pursue this path and dedicate myself to serving our congregation was greeted with ecstatic enthusiasm by Mrs. Tupa. She hugged me closely to her, pushed her big boobies against my trunk, and kissed me deeply.

My parents were mystified. They had accepted my increased presence over at Mrs. Tupa's in the evening as a form of neighborly care, but to have me move from my room at home, over to the Rectory, to undergo a conversion to Catholicism, and devote myself to serving the parish was just beyond them. They weakly tried to convince me that this was just a phase I was going through, but they had no better alternative to offer me, and ultimately accepted that I would just have to see for myself whether I was truly suited for this path.

Father Viktor pointed out to me that my period as a catechumen was intended to familiarize me with all the practices and duties of a lay server and that once I had "run the gauntlet" as he put it, I should know for certain in my heart whether this was truly my calling.

"Jack, my good man, I will not make lightly of your Catechumenate, as it will test you as you've never been tested before. It will demand of you all your strength and willpower, as well as your compassion for all the human suffering you will be asked to relieve. But in the end, I believe you will find that the joy you will share in serving our congregants will far outweigh any sorrow."

Father Viktor explained that during my Catechumenate, I would have an hour of instruction daily, with the rest of my time divided between study, prayer and, most importantly, serving the church members with the most pressing needs. The Church office would handle the requests from congregants and schedule my service visits. At the conclusion of each visit, I was to write in my journal a brief summary of the parishoner's needs, how and if they were met, and any notes that might be useful to record for future reference.

As we were about to conclude, there was a quiet knock on the good Father's office door.

"Yes? What is it?" he called out.

The door partially opened and Mother Magdalene stuck her head in.

"Victor, may I have a word with you? Oh! I see you have a visitor. I apologize for interrupting..."

She pulled her head back and began to close the door.

"No, wait! It's quite alright, Maggie. We were just wrapping up our conversation. Do come in and shut the door. You recall Jack from our lesson with Mrs. Tupa and him, the other week?"

I had sprung to my feet in respect for the Mother Superior.

"Gracious! How could I forget? He performed an exquisite 'Kiss of Peace' getting me all lubed up for the insertion of your wiener in my love aperture."

"Then you should be happy to hear the news that Jack is our new catechumen with a calling to serve our Parish."

"Oh my! Please, Viktor, will you allow Jack and me to exchange the first 'Kiss of Peace' of his Catechumenate?"

"Maggie, I swear you are incorrigible. But, no matter. It is always a pleasure to watch you being serviced and then servicing another. It brings you such joy. And besides, this will give Jack a foretaste of his duties to come."

Mother Superior rucked up the back of her habit with all its numerous layers beneath and leaned over the back of the chair I had been sitting in. To my surprise, she wasn't wearing any knickers, but displayed her mammoth pimple-pocked cheeks to me, pulling them apart and revealing her hairy anus and butt crack. For the second time in less than a month, it was my honor to plant my snout in her bottom and root away. I licked her avidly, up and down her pubic-lined crack and then began thrusting my tongue into her rather gnarly anus, savoring its taste of marinated meat and the sweaty smell of a female crevice that spent its days buried under layer upon layer of heavy undergarments.

This time, Father Victor didn't spoil my fun by pulling me away so that he could skewer her aperture with his prick. He just let me rim away, while he watched us and grinned. He had unbuttoned his cassock down by his crotch and had his thick stiffened prick sticking out, stroking it and breathing heavily. I was deep in the ritual of kissing and tonguing Mother Magdalene's ass, while she trembled and squealed repeatedly, until she suddenly farted and came with a bang. Whew! She must have been eating sauerkraut for lunch, as the rank smell had a sour pickled odor to it. It was so powerful that I momentarily forgot who or where I was, a rare sign of Grace according to the good Father as he would later explain.

* * *

Now it was my turn to receive the "Kiss of Peace" from this large and hungry woman of the church. I unbuckled my trousers and dropped them and my briefs to the floor and kicked them aside. I took the good Mother's place leaning over the chair and, like she had, spread my buttocks and provided access to my hairy ass. She knelt behind me and let her hands take the place of mine, keeping me pried open as she pushed her face into my anal crack, breathing deeply and emitting muffled groans. Then she started slathering her tongue all over my butt, before she got down to the heart of the matter and started fucking my anus with her slithery tongue.

Before I started socializing with old Czech widows, I hadn't given much thought to my pucker as an erogenous zone. But as the "Kiss of Peace" seemed to be one of their favorites pastimes, I was becoming schooled in its sensitivity and its centrality in Bohemian intimacy. Mother Magdalene ate me like a champ, a sure sign that she had got in plenty of reps. She had a strong suction action to her, as if her mouth was a soft nozzle for a powerful vacuum cleaner. If she wasn't careful, she might get more than she bargained for, though I wasn't altogether certain that she would mind that. I was still learning the limits of Bohemian ladies' prurient cravings, if there were indeed any limits.

The good Mother was now alternating slurping, sucking, and smooching, obviously enjoying making animalistic sounds, though Lord knows what someone walking by the closed office door would have made of it. I doubted that there was much that went on in the Rectory that wasn't known by all its inhabitants. Once I began living there, I learned that even faint sounds made behind closed doors down the hall or on another floor, could be easily identified from hearing them so often. Not only did the parish's congregants seem a needy bunch, but so did their clergy. Lucky for all of them that the Bohemian customs and "old ways" gave high priority to the communal fulfilling of needs.

Presently, when Mother Magdalene had taken me right to the edge of shooting my wad all over the office carpet, she backed off and gave me a playful slap on my butt, standing up with a satisfied look on her face. I suspect it had occurred to her that in my new position as a catechumen serving the congregants' needs, it was wiser for me to save my seed for the desperately needy widows who craved a soothing dose of cum up their keisters, than to waste it in a messy explosion in front of Father Viktor's desk. Indeed, if I was going to be serving a multitude of horny old gals, at a pace of two or three a day, there was no way that I could spurt my goop for every parishioner who requested it. I would need to have a word with the Church office staff about keeping my appointments to a dull roar and scheduling the very neediest cases for the last slot of the day.

* * *

After Mother Magdalene departed with a happy bounce to her step, Father Viktor had a few final things to say.

"Jack, my good fellow, I think that I will put off announcing your new status as a probationer for at least a week, to give you time to get moved in here, and to put your upcoming school semester on hold until we get all our ducks in a row. I may even be able to arrange for you to receive work-study credits for your duties with the parish. Stranger things have happened, and the Almighty works in mysterious ways.

"Again, I am extremely pleased by your willingness to help look after our congregants and to formally become a catechumen. You can only imagine how thin I've been stretched and how taxing my care duties have been. Mother Magdalene alone is a handful, not to mention the sisters. Perhaps now we can finally begin to get things under control and find a way to attract more young people like yourself. If you can think of any of your friends who might make good additions to the parish, please let me know and I can arrange meetings to discuss it. As you can now see, there are special blessings associated with becoming a Bohemian Catholic and propagating the "old ways".

Indeed, I could see that clearly. But for now, I wanted to head home in time for dinner, after which I needed to spend some quality time with Mrs. Tupa. Things were about to change in an enormous way, and I couldn't let her get lost in the shuffle.

* * *

My parents were still confounded by the direction my life was taking. At dinner, we all spoke politely to each other, and they sincerely wished me well in my choice to move to the church Rectory. How they might feel a week or two later was an unknown. For now, I just tried to keep things moving smoothly, so I could transition out of my familiar room at home, to an unfamiliar and rather spartan one in the Rectory.

* * *

I was with Mrs. Tupa the night before my move was official. I'd hauled my stuff from home to the Rectory, and then repaired to Anna Tupa's home to hopefully have a heartfelt evening of good loving with her.

I realize that it probably stretches the imagination that the night-time doings of post-adolescent young men and quite older women might kindle a shared flame, but hear me out.

When I became 18 and was now legally a man, that did not mean that I was now automatically experienced in the ways of love. On the contrary, I barely knew what the hell I was doing. My so-called girlfriends my own age were in the same boat. That meant that they were well disposed toward the advances of older, more experienced, men. Time and again, I was just beginning to make a bit of progress with one or the other, when they'd drop me in an instant for the attention of an older man, sometimes considerably older.

While I kind of resented that treatment, I couldn't really blame them. If neither of us knew what we were doing, we could ignorantly blunder around together, until things became so awkward and embarrassing that it was more of a relief to break things off than to try and continue. So, as I saw it, Mrs. Tupa's subtle seduction had come along at just the right time. She was starved for love and so was I. But, here's the heart of the matter: she had a lifetime of sexual experience and knew what she needed and wanted. I had neither.

Sure, she was hardly a hot babe, but I wasn't hunting for one. Hot babes were totally out of my league and the few that I had run into usually struck me as gold diggers. I had no gold to dig, to put it mildly, but I did have a willingness to be taught and to please, and I did have the stamina of youth.

Plus, to be crass about it, I was a real sucker for voluptuous women with plenty of meat on their bones. That their flesh sagged a bit, here and there, and that they had a roll or three of nice soft fat, was not a deal-killer. The more time I spent with Mrs. Tupa and her friends, such features of their physiques became deal-makers.

Let me be clear about one other thing. Though it might appear that I was hankering to be a catechumen at the Parish for all the opportunities for sex -- and that was certainly a factor -- my heart really did go out to these old gals. No two were quite alike, and the deeper in I got, the more I enjoyed their unique personalities and takes on life. We shared a lot of love together, not just orgasms.

* * *

My "last" evening at Mrs. Tupa's before my official move to the Rectory, was bitter-sweet. Anna Tupa had been overjoyed when I first told her that I was to become a catechumen in the Parish, with training to become a lay server to the congregation. But I feared that she hadn't really grasped how that would change our fundamental relationship. We had been used to spending evenings together at her home several nights a week, with substantial time to tend to her "needs" and satisfy her cravings.

Now, I had to break it to her that with my time and duties allotted by Father Viktor and the Church Office, I might be able to visit her once a week, if I were lucky. I might also be tasked with visiting a multitude of her friends to help fill their "needs", leaving me with little free time or energy to spare.

It was distressing to see her crestfallen at this news. The Parish truly was her "family", and Anna's and Zuzana Gavenda's eagerness to have me join it had not taken into account that the wider family might command the lion's share of my time.

Well, there was no going back now, as my path was set for the immediate future. Perhaps in time, as I completed my catechumenate and settled into lay server routines, I could jigger my schedule around and steal some more time to be with Mrs. Tupa, but there were no guarantees.

The best I could do this evening was make myself available to her wishes and fulfill them with the full force of my love. She, of course, was insistent that we share our pee and poop, which we did with an even stronger intimacy than usual, hugging each other tightly as she sat on my lap on the toilet and we defecated together. Then, after wiping and cleaning ourselves, we repaired to her bed and exchanged the Kiss of Peace. I did my best to burn her anal taste and smell into my memory banks. It has been said that just as no two fingerprints are alike, no two sphincters are alike. Knowing that I was soon to be introduced to dozens of new anuses, I tried to commit hers to a place of honor in my memory.

Once these familiar and cherished rituals were completed, I tried to coax out of her what she wished to do in our little time left. I feel no shame -- though only modest joy -- in admitting that she just wanted to have me hold her in my arms, while we lay naked together in her bed and snuggled under the covers. What we had previously taken for granted, now felt like a fleeting luxury, soon to be denied. When I had to tear myself away, before I violated the Rectory's curfew on my very first night there, we kissed and hugged as if we might never see each other again. Blessedly, this was not to be the case, but it would be some time before I was back in her bed.