This story happened 20 years ago. It is narrated by the son.
The political condition between our country and our neighbors was boiling. Talks of an upcoming invasion filled the air. Our village was situated on the border of the two countries so the villagers were always waiting for any piece of news on the fragile peace between our two countries.
I was born to my dad and mom soon after they married. At the time of the story, I was five years old and I had no brothers or sisters. I still remember my parents citing the cause of not having other children to the bad economic and political situation of the country.
We were a happy little family although my dad was a very stern man. I rarely remember seeing him laughing or smiling. He was strict with my mother although she was his first sweetheart in the village. Mom and dad didn't continue their education but they knew the minimum to read and write.
Their education was mainly administered by the local church and that was why my father had a great respect for the priests and the clergy in general.
Mom was always obedient to dad as was the norm in villages at that time. Whatever dad said was the right thing for mom. She never objected and I could always see the acceptance in her beautiful blue eyes. Mom was 30 years old back then, five years younger than dad.
Her long blond hair flowed over her shoulders and her slender figure matched with her medium height. Mom was blessed with a pair of big breasts that were very hard to conceal and were complemented by a small firm ass.
On the other hand, my father worked in the fields all day and sold the vegetables and the meat from the cattle every few weeks to make a living. This work made him stay in good shape for his age. He was around 180 cm tall, which was considered tall in our village. All the people in the village knew that dad was a very strict man through his way of parenting me.
When I was little, I used to be afraid of dad but I also admired him for his masculinity and his strength.
One sacred date for my parents and especially dad was every Sunday. We went to church to attend the mass and we never missed a mass in my youth. So we lead a pious life and even though we weren't rich we were able to get by in our modest life in the village.
A few months after my fifth birthday I remember that a gas leak accident in the monastery lead to the tragic death of our elderly bishop in the village. I still remember that dad and mom were very upset as was the whole village. The priest that came after the late bishop needed a place to live for a few months until the monastery was restituted.
Dad was the first man in the village to insist on welcoming the new priest in our house as we had an empty guest room. Dad said that the priest staying in our home would be a blessing for our family.
The rest of the village was a little apprehensive when they knew that the priest assigned to our village was from our neighboring country. In those political conditions, our people weren't very sympathetic with the neighbors, but a priest was an exception and dad made sure that all of the village knew that fact.
The first time I saw the priest, Father Tyrone, my small mind was fascinated. Father Tyrone was a dark black man, around 190 cm tall, a hulk of a physique barely being covered by his large priest robe. Although he was about ten years younger than dad, my father respected all clergy.
As soon as he arrived, dad ran to the door to greet him and kiss his black hand in reverence. Mom did the same. She approached the big black man, took his big hand and kissed it with her soft white lips.
The priest smiled at my parents as he blessed them.
"Thank you for accommodating me in your house" said the priest.
"It is our pleasure, father" replied my dad, and it was one of the rare times where I saw a smile on his face.
Dad didn't allow mom to talk to men or to interact with them much but something weird happened a few weeks after the priest's arrival.
One day, I arrived from school and I found dad and mom and many villagers in our living room waiting patiently. A few minutes later, a doctor came out telling them that the priest will be okay. It was a mild fever and he only needs to take medication and he will be out of bed in a few days.
After the doctor and the villagers left, dad and mom entered to check on Father Tyrone. He told them that his illness isn't physical. The devil is trying to punish him for his good deeds in our city. He asked mom and dad and me to pray with him so he can get better. And of course we did that and I noticed dad piously praying for the young priest to get better.
The next day, dad went to the fields and mom stayed at home as usual. She suddenly heard the priest calling her name. As she rushed to the room, she was surprised in finding the black man shirtless. He gave her a flask of oil and told her she needed to help him to rub it all over his body as a shield against the illness inflected by the devil. Mom hesitated a little, especially as she saw the huge physique of the priest.
Mom didn't expect to find this musculature on a priest. His black biceps were rippled and the size of footballs. His chest was big, his shoulders wide and his abs were well defined. He was practically fat free and full of rippling muscles on his smooth black body. Mom has never touched a man other than dad, nonetheless touched him so she excused herself and ran from the room blushing.
