Mrs Ronson

Mrs Ronson was quite a liberating adventure. My experience and opportunities with girls of my age had been quite limited and were, mostly, not very satisfying. This was, no doubt, due to inexperience on my part and possibly with the girls that I would socially meet. Getting any sort of relationship going could be difficult, time consuming and expensive, both financially and emotionally. And it was so darn complicated sometimes working out what they wanted.

Mrs Ronson, on the other hand, was very simple to understand to my young teenage mind. She actually liked sucking cock and was very grateful to be getting fucked by a horny nineteen-year-old boy with a stiff young dick and plenty of stamina. The relationship was, at least for me, predominantly sexual.

When I was fucking Mrs Ronson or having her suck me off, I didnt really think about the future because this was not part of a romance, this was not going to lead into marriage and having kids or meeting her parents and getting along with them. It was just about fucking the old tart and giving her my spunk.

Well, that wasn't quite the way that I thought about it, but you probably know what I mean.

I also got a tremendous kick out of fucking a little old lady and did so very energetically. I had very little thought about whether I should be ramming my cock quite so hard into her old granny cunt. Although, by the time I had got around to fucking her, she was usually hot, wet and ready for it.

If it had been a girl of my age, I am sure that I would have been far more considerate and self-conscious. They would probably have thought me a wimp for not being more forceful, more confident, but I really did not know how to be.

As it was, I seemed to be using Mrs Ronson for my own selfish pleasures, but I also thought that she was using me for hers. A lot of the confidence that I thought I had in the relationship, she was pushing upon me.

In terms of Mrs Ronson responding to my young and enthusiastic pounding of her old cunt, I could feel the muscle of her vagina tightly gripping my young man's cock at deepest penetration, relaxing, and then gripping again as I ttied to pull out from her. My thrusts were usually acknowledged by guttural grunts and moans and I was rewarded more verbally when pulling back.

As I pulled away from her cunt's muscular grip she would say things like 'You're a good boy, Danny!' or 'You're a bad boy, Danny' with equal regularity and sincerity

When I pumped my spunk deep up inside her, when I felt it really splurge out of my cock, she would often use her hands on my buttocks to pull me deeper into herself and hold me there. She would often moan something like, 'Oh Danny, dear!' or 'You nasty nasty boy!' Both of these excited me and she would often draw out the last word finishing with a sound similar to a moan.

Although I found her description of Father James behaviour difficult to believe, I could easily believe her encouragement of the naughty priest and her enjoyment of his lusty perversions. I was thinking of this as I rammed my cock, quite aggressively, into Mrs Ronson.

"You're such a bad bad boy, Danny!"

"You filthy old slut, Mrs Ronson!"

I was giving it to her increasingly hard, thrusting into her and then pulling out again as the muscles of her cunt gripped and tried to pull me even deeper inside.

It was not something that I was going to be able to keep up for long and I soon made a final deep penetration into her fuckhole and felt the release of my semen into my filthy old grannyslut.

"Oh, Danny, you nasty nasty boy," I felt her cunt trying to milk me for more sperm and I felt my deeply embedded cockhead feeding more of my jizz inside her.

Satisfied, at least for the moment, I let my cock slip out of her as it softened.

"Ooh, thank you, Danny, that was good!"

We lay there for a while and I rudely stuck a finger up inside her to feel the warm sticky mess that I had made in there. She allowed her fingers to explore the slippery wetness of the juices that covered my cock. That felt nice.

'You nasty boy!"

"So, Mrs Ronson, tell me more about Father James. Did he make you suck his cock?"

"Oh, No, Danny dear, Father James wasn't like that. I offered, of course, because you know how much I like to suck dick and I really really wanted to suck his but he said 'No', that it wasn't right."

"So, it's ok for a priest to fuck a married woman, but not ok to have her suck his cock?"

"Yes, that's right, Danny dear. Apparently, when acting as a representative of The Lord, although it was permissible to come inside a woman's vagina, that was the only place where a holy man should ever deposit his seed.

"In fact, according to the word of God (whatever that might mean, Danny dear), that was the only place where a man, any man, should be putting it. Father James spoke to me very clearly on this subject.

"A man's sperm is given by God for the purpose of creating life and to send it where life cannot be created is a sin against God and God's design.

"Masturbation is similarly a sin against God for the same reason and, needless to say, spurting semen up the asshole of either a man or a woman, also.

"Fortunately, Danny dear, for Father James there seemed to be a sufficiency of married, divorced ot widowed women parishioners who would appreciate the special services that he offered and could provide a suitable repository for his holy seed.

"Although, I have to say that many of those women were not so young and the chances of pregnancies were low, even without precautions. In my case, although I should have been young enough, I think something went wrong following the birth of Ruth. I didn't believe that I would have another child, but I never shared that with anyone else. If that was indeed the case, then I was happy enough with that.

"How many others were there, Mrs Ronson?"

"I really don't know, Danny dear, but I know that I was getting the attention of the 'instrument of God' about once every two weeks, and I do know that there were most definitely others from knowing looks and things said at social events.

"I remember a conversation with a woman in which I referred to Father James as 'a good man'. 'Yes,' she said, 'A good man, not a very good priest, but a Good Man', emphasizing the 'Good Man' and she winked at me. 'She knows', I thought, 'and he's had her too. He is probably still having her regularly.' I became aware that I was a member of a very secret club, the members of which likely did not know each other but only suspected who the others might be.

"How many of those women really thought that he was a genuine 'instrument of God' or were just using his priestly perversions for their own needs, I don't know, but I doubt that many were fooled.

"I did sometimes think that Father James might have been genuinely fooling himself though and might believe that he was truly doing God's work by giving these needy women his attention. I never really figured him out but in some strange way he did seem to be satisfying the spiritual needs of those women."

"I don't see what fucking has to do with spirituality, Mrs Ronson."

"You're a young and delightfully horny boy, Danny dear, I don't think that you would. And there's also a big difference between being the fucker and the fuckee. Your spiritual perspective when you are having the instrument of God being regularly rammed into your cunt is very different. I wouldn't expect you to understand, Danny dear.

"I used the 'c' word, Danny. That's a word that nasty little boys like you use. You see how you're corrupting me?"

"I don't think that I'm corrupting you, Mrs Ronson. Sometimes I think you're corrupting me. Anyway, Father James often used the 'c' word."

"Oh Yes, indeed he did, Danny, although he did say that was one of God's words to use as He saw fit."

"I don't think that is what people usually think of as God's Word."

"You're not being very charitable, are you, Danny dear? Despite his dubious morality, Father James did seem to be providing a real service to some very needy women in the parish. Ernest was really not much good at satisfying me as a husband and, although Father James was not quite what I would have liked, there was something exciting and satisfying about getting rogered by the local horny priest.

"It was also secret, discreet and relatively safe. Neither the good Father nor myself had anything to gain from the knowledge becoming public. I am sure it was much the same for the other women. They probably also enjoyed a secret fuck behind closed doors.

"He was also funny and charming, despite his odd priestly ways, and quite handsome too; slim, tall with distinguishing looks and greying hair. He had a lovely dick, as I think I've already told you. It's a shame that I couldn't suck on it."

Mrs Ronson paused at this point, and seemed to reflect with regret on not having been able to suck the priestly penis. Then remembering what was down at her fingertips, slipped down and took my wet knob in her mouth. She sucked on it for a bit until I could feel it stirring again and then stopped, licked her lips and returned to tell me more about Father James.

"He would sometimes bury his face in my cunny and lick my clitty to get me wet and in the right mood for him, though I had no real trouble with that. He was the first man to lick me down there and I loved it. He didn't do it very long or, as I found out later, very well, but I loved him doing it.

"He maintained the professional detachment of the 'instrument of The Lord', he never kissed me on the mouth, although he often sucked on my nipples and he never said that he loved me, although often as he was sliding in and out of my you-know-what, he told me that God loved me. I guess that made sense as it was God's instrument that I could feel, moving in mysterious ways, doing his deed inside me."

"And he was doing that to so many other women?"

"Yes, Danny dear, I think he must have been. I have to say that he must have had a lot of stamina. If he was doing me once every two weeks and he had similar schedules with the others, if he could manage two a day, then he might have managed between twelve and fourteen."

"Would he have taken Sundays off?"

"To avoid doing The Lords work? I don't think so, Danny dear, but I suppose he might have had other duties. He was surprisingly virile, though. Perhaps he could have managed three of us some days?"

"I really find it difficult imagining this all, Mrs Ronson. Someone surely would have noticed?"

"Strangely, Danny dear, if there is one thing that religion does not seem to do for people, it is to open their eyes."

"But it could not have gone on like that, surely?"

"No Danny, it didn't, but I think it might have if Father James had not made a rather serious mistake."

"What was that, Mrs Ronson?"

"A complete departure from his normal modus operandi, Danny dear. Father James technique, or strategy, had always been to select women unhappily married, separated, divorced or widowed; and women not really interested in any serious romantic relationship. In fact, women who wanted to get fucked privately without any village gossip spoiling the whole thing. Women who had as much interest in keeping the secret as Father James did.

"The mistake, Danny dear, was that he got mixed up with an unmarried woman, a spinster of the parish. She was mid forties, deeply religious and, I think, most likely a virgin - certainly very inexperienced with men.

"I remember at the time I wondered how he had seduced her into a relationship with 'the instrument of God', he certainly could not use the 'marriage is a covenant with The Lord' angle that he used with me.

"More recently, Danny dear, I have thought that, more likely, the devout and middle-aged virgin developed her own crush or infatuation with Father James and seduced him. The more that I think about it, the more I think that likeliest.

"I can imagine the prospect of deflowering a most willing and available virgin, very exciting for him."

"You think she threw herself at him, Mrs Ronson?"

"Something like that, Danny dear, however I cannot imagine her doing it. He was a very weak man, though, and anything that she might have been able to do to stiffen his dick would have had it, and him, wherever she wanted in hardly any time at all.

"I am sure, Danny dear, that once she had set her mind on it, she would have had 'the instrument of The Lord' pumping its holy seed deep up inside her virgin fuckhole with lustful urgency.

"I am also certain that, after having been finally fucked after so long a virginal abstinence and having his hot creamy lust soaking into her middle-aged womanhood, that she would do whatever she needed to do to keep him with her and away from other women, and possibly the Church, as well."

"What did she do, Mrs Ronson?"

"I don't really know, Danny dear, but I can tell you what happened and my suspicions were that she certainly had a hand in it all. It's the only thing that makes sense - though very little about Father James ever seems to make much sense."

"That, Mrs Ronson, is very true. So much of this just seems unbelievable!"

"The unbelievable happens more often than you would think, Danny dear. How many of your friends and family woild believe that you were fucking an old lady?

"Regularly," she added.

I thought guiltily of my mother. She probably thought what a nice helpful boy I was, giving up my own time to help out old Mrs Ronson. Of course, Mrs Ronson thought I was a nice helpful boy, too, and she was the one getting fucked.

I pushed the thoughts out of my young head. They were not helping and they were getting me emotionally, and morally, confused.

"What happened, Mrs Ronson?"

"Well, Danny, there was a concert being staged in the Church Hall. It was not being organised by the Church but was just a local group of musicians and the Church Hall was often used for such purposes.

This was not a live performance, but a rehearsal for a performance a few days later. The stage itself was not in use and the musicians were arranged in front of the stage with Sylvia Morgan actually sitting to one side on the stage with the concert schedule and a stopwatch. "

"Sylvia Morgan?" I said. I had heard of Sylvia Morgan though never having met her. The familiar name suddenly all made it feel so much more real to me.

"Yes," said Mrs Ronson, "she was in charge of planning the concert and making sure that it kept to its programme.

"In front of the musicians was the conductor and behind him, facing the stage and the musicians were an audience for the concert. Since this was only a rehearsal, the audience was composed mostly of friends and family plus a few other staff and three or four representatives of the Church."

"Father James?"

"No, not Father James, although his whereabouts at the time are very important to the story."

"Go on."

"Danny, dear, I was there too."

"Why was that?"

"No particular reason, Danny dear, but I was just about, not doing anything else, so I thought I'd pop in to watch. I knew a couple of the musicians and I thought it would be nice to hear them play and give them my support.

"Anyway, I was there and saw it all happen in front of me. I was thankful for that because I don't know what I would have been told about it otherwise, possibly nothing. I know many people there wouldn't mention anything about it afterwards."

"Please, Mrs Ronson, tell me what happened. "

"Well, Danny, the musicians had just finished the first number, Sylvia had stopped the watch and jotted down the time and the conductor was just starting to address the players, and it happened.

"The curtain across the stage, which Sylvia was sitting in front of, just to one side on the stage, dropped away. I've never seen a curtain fall like that before so I am sure that there was some trickery involved. I suppose that it might have been purely accidental, but I think it more likely that it was someone's carefully laid plan.

"For when the curtain fell, the stage and accompanying scenery and props were revealed. The stage was set out like a medieval throne room and unexpectedly displayed to the audience who had expected nothing more than a music recital. There was a chorus of surprised gasps, two women fainted and one screamed.

"There, in front of us all, sitting on the throne in the middle of the stage was Father James. Unusually, he was dressed in a suit. I don't know why that would be, although he would sometimes not use clerical garb for some formal functions.

"When I say 'dressed in a suit', he was not completely dressed because his trousers were down around his ankles and, in front of him, the devout Christian Lady's head was bobbing up and down in the good Father's lap. We could not see exactly what she was doing, but I think everyone could guess what was happening in front of our eyes."

'She was sucking him off. In front off all those people?"

"Yes, Danny dear, and considering Father James religious opinions of oral sex, I have to believe that she was the person responsible for that, though I am still unsure how the curtain came away suddenly like that, as if on cue."

"Go on."

"The more that I think about it, Danny, I think that there must have been someone else involved - at least in the timing of the curtain, that just could not be coincidence.

"Anyway, Danny the curtain fell away, not completely noiselessly, and the two of them were exposed quite suddenly. There were gasps of surprise from the audience. Father James also gasped, suddenly uncovered and looking out from the stage at many parishoners. He seemed transfixed by the shock of it.

"The devout spinster of the parish seemed mostly undisturbed by what had happened and, although she turned and should have seen the crowd behind her, seemed to be unaware of the shock caused and which she was a part of. She turned back and took 'the instrument of God' back into her mouth.

"I have to say, Danny dear, although the good Father seemed frozen in shock and probably wished the ground to open and swallow him, his dick seemed to be bigger and stiffer than I had ever seen it and stood proudly up until taken back into the mouth of the good Christian lady.

"When she did turn again to face us, her face had a strange crazy sickly grin and she was drooling cum.

"She did not look sane, Danny dear, but shock affects all of us differently. I thoughr the expression on her face was creepy. I think it sent a chill through the hall and I think that was when the two women fainted."

"Gosh, Mrs Ronson!"

"With his dick exposed once again to the parish, Father James managed to get into control of himself, pulled up and fastened his trousers and fled the stage, the parishioners, and his fellatrix. The spinster of the parish followed him, though I think 'the instrument of God' was as keen to escape her as the others."

"That must have caused an awful scandel, Mrs Ronson?"

"Not as much as you might have thought, Danny dear. It probably helped that it was not a public performance and nearly everyone present knew each other within the community. Quite a number seemed affected by shock and uncertain what exactly they had witnessed. Some, I think, could not easily have put into words what they saw. A number of things did happen, though, and decisions were made, but almost entirely behind closed doors. There were no criminal charges brought, although some social stigma attached to both of them.

"The Church, as often seems to be the case in such matters, appeared to do nothing, although Father James disappeared from the parish and I never heard of him being appointed elsewhere. The Church, I have noticed, is reluctant to draw any attention to itself or its clergy on such occasions, so few priests get formally defrocked or otherwise expelled if matters can just be allowed to disappear into silence. Father James never again took any priestly role.