Six weeks or so after Marias experience at the hands of the old man next door to the Christmas party the poor 18 year old was still left feeling a mixture of guilt and self-disgust. The truth was the pint-sized busty beauty hadn't done anything wrong, but being a well brought up quite religious girl she knew deep down what had happened was wrong. She wasn't stupid, she knew ultimately that dirty old pervert was to blame, but she felt rather ashamed at having given in maybe too easily to his demands.
To feel a little better she tried to tell herself that she had no choice. She couldn't have allowed him to turn her over to the police, as the consequences of being arrested and maybe deported back to her own country in Eastern Europe didn't bear thinking about. But there was one thing she couldn't put right in her mind no matter how hard she tried. Despite finding the old man vile and disgusting and not wanting to give herself to him, she couldn't escape the fact that her body ended up betraying her by responding to his despicable actions. As disgusted as she was at herself for even admitting it, she lost her virginity to a filthy old man and rather than being angry or upset she had unashamedly enjoyed it.
With all this going around in her head on an almost daily basis Maria decided to try and seek solace from the one place she always turned to in times of need, the Church. Having been brought up in a deeply religious family she often turned to the Church in times of need. This however was on a whole different level to the problems the pretty teenager had faced until now. But Maria knew the only way she was going to get any relief from these guilty feelings that haunted her was to grab the bull by the horns so to speak and go! That way she would hopefully unburden herself and be able to put it all behind her.
There was a run-down old Church not far from where she lived that her Aunt attended regularly and which Maria had attended a few times since moving to England. It wasn't what she was used to, always deserted and rather run-down it was a far cry from the highly revered places of love and solace she knew from back home. The few times she had been she always kept herself at the back out of the way feeling a little awkward at being one of only a few of people ever in there. As far as she could tell the only people that seemed to attend Church were a handful of elderly pensioners clearly keen to insure their place when the time comes.
Even the elderly Priest looked like he was on his last legs, partly due to his age and partly due to the fact that he looked like someone who enjoyed maybe a little too much of the communal wine. Maria had never spoken with or even introduced herself to him, but it was fairly clear from his ruddy red complexion scruffy unkempt appearance and the heavy bags under his eyes that he took little care of himself. The one thing that made her think he was a drinker was his large red bulbous nose, covered in pock marks and veins it was the sort you associate with older men that maybe have an alcohol problem.
In truth Maria was right, it may have been just a guess on her part but the Priest did indeed enjoy a drink, and rather more than just a glass or two. Life could get very lonely for a man in his position and drink proved to be an escape from a loneliness that seemed to grow ever more consuming as he moved through old age. The trouble with drink is it has a spiralling effect, over the years the more he drank the more obnoxious and unkempt he became, and of course that in itself leads to people taking a dislike and staying away.
To be honest the pretty 18 year old found him rather intimidating. She thought how stupid she was being after all he was a priest, a man of the cloth, a man to be trusted, not a man to feel afraid of.
Unbeknownst to her she might have wanted to trust her instincts a little more. She was in no doubt of his gruff nature and obvious liking for a drop of the strong stuff. But what she couldn't have known was the constant inward struggle he had with his natural male urges, the sort of urges that a life of celibacy made all the more difficult to handle. He had always struggled in maintaining his vows to God and every once in a while there were times when his resolve would really be tested. Thankfully it wasn't often, but there were occasions when it was, like weddings and christenings for example, not that he had many.
The trouble was he was only human, and despite his advanced years when confronted with a lovely young bride in virginal white and a bevy of beautiful bridesmaids his blood would start pumping and would find it hard to keep his mind on the job. Sometimes he would find his frustration almost unbearable and his mind would be all over the place with lustful thoughts. He would try to tell himself it was the Devils work and he was being "tested". The dirty old Priest would seek solace in the bottom of a bottle as he struggled desperately with one of the cruellest vows of all, the vow to abstain from masturbation. It was a vow that despite his trying he couldn't always keep.
The miserable frustrated old man had lost count of the number of times he had watched a bride and groom walk out of the church arm in arm thinking how hypocritical it was of the bride to wear white knowing few girls these days were virgins. He would often picture the scene later that night when the groom would almost certainly be balls deep inside his lovely bride while she thrashed around underneath him wailing like a banshee.
Quite arrogantly he put his improper thoughts right in his mind by convincing himself that it was their fault and not his. He would imagine they were under the influence of the devil himself with their deliberate teasing and tempting ways, ways which resulted in his being so envious of the lucky groom.
Unfortunately the last time he had conducted a wedding was actually about 18 months ago now, it seemed his reputation for being a drunk and a bit of an old pervert was getting more widespread resulting in his total lack of bookings.
His last really memorable encounter was about 12 months ago when he carried out a Christening for a young couple, again his last one to date. During the service the frustrated old Priest couldn't take his eyes off the baby's Mother in her floral summer dress. The reason for his inability to avert his lustful gaze wasn't so much the dress, but more her obviously huge milk filled breasts. They were massive, clearly swollen and extremely firm. At the end of the ceremony he overheard a conversation between the woman and a friend where she was complaining how uncomfortable they were. She told her friend how they held so much milk that she had to use a breast-pump to relieve the pressure several times a day. The old man then heard her go on to say the main problem however wasn't the constant need to siphon off the milk, but the constant discomfort that came from how swollen and unbearably hard they were.
"Feel them," she said to her friend, "they're absolutely solid!" This of course really got the frustrated old Priests attention and he glanced out of the corner of his eye just in time to see the friend poke one with her finger. "No have a proper feel!" She insisted. With that her friend placed a hand on one and attempted to give it a squeeze.
"Oh my God," she replied, "they're absolutely full, it must be so uncomfortable...mind you I bet he's a happy man," she went on gesturing towards the woman's husband.
"Oh he's not getting anywhere bloody near them," she answered as they both burst out laughing.
The elderly Priest couldn't help himself from getting excited by what he had just seen and heard. His head was in a spin and all he could think was how he would have loved more than anything to feel them too. The thought of taking those huge firm melons in his hands had his frustrated old balls churning and left him unable to prevent once again the rapid stiffening of his cock!
Now extremely aroused the old man waited until they were all leaving for the Christening party before seizing his moment to personally congratulate the couple. In the Church doorway he made his move by shaking the husband's hand, before turning to the young woman and moving in to give her a hug. Awkwardly she placed her hands on the scruffy old Priests dandruff covered shoulders and just leaned in with her head turned sideways. He of course took the opportunity and pulled her in close enough to feel those huge milky breasts press against him. They were indeed solid something that was confirmed as he let her go and while stepping back "accidentally" dragged his hands from her back and along the sides of them as he slowly released her from his embrace.
He could tell the woman instantly realised what he was doing and gave him a strange look, as if she wanted to say something but decided not to.
"I'd swear that dirty old sod just deliberately touched my boobs," he heard her say to her husband moments later.
"Oh don't be stupid, he's a Priest," he replied as they walked away.
Occasions such as these had always proved torturous for the old man only serving to heighten his already overpowering sense of frustration. In a way it was just as well that they seemed to now be becoming a thing of the past. The only people he had any contact with nowadays were the few die-hard coffin dodgers that attended his Church on a fairly regular basis. So it wasn't any wonder that at this late stage in his life he had come to question his whole chosen career and lifestyle.
Nothing had prepared him for the possibility that he might look back on his life and wonder what he had done with it. There always seemed to be time to put off any doubts for another day. But as he was now in his 70th year it was apparent that that time had slipped by and he knew it was too late. Not that he didn't still have his faith, although it was becoming harder to maintain, it was more that he wondered what his life might have been had he taken a different path. He wondered if he would perhaps be happier in his old age had he not given his life to God. Either way it was all rather irrelevant. His time was almost over and he had no choice other than to accept his chosen path.
For Maria the time had come to face what had been haunting her mind for the last few months and so she awoke on the Monday morning at the start of her half term break prepared herself to go to the Church. With the prospect of meeting with the Priest the curvaceous 18 year wanted to look her best. She brushed her beautiful long chestnut hair until it shone flawlessly as it cascaded perfectly straight down the length of her back stopping just above her pert cheeky bum. Taking a moment to decide on an outfit the small yet perfectly formed beauty admired herself as she often did standing there in just her underwear.
Her toned slender little waist and tiny frame seemed to emphasize her almost disproportionately huge 30FF boobs encased in the expensive black lace half cup bra she had chosen to wear. A quick twist enabled her to admire the matching black lace thong emerging from between her perfectly rounded outwardly thrusting cheeks.
Opening her wardrobe she decided to wear something that would show off the curves that she was rightly very proud of without being too revealing. She wanted to look her best and show off her curves but didn't want anyone to get the wrong impression of her. Eventually the decision was made to go with black to keep things rather sombre and respectful looking, or so she thought. The reality was far from looking sombre she appeared just as sexy as always, but then with a body like hers it was almost impossible not to.
She decided on a ribbed roll neck sweater that inevitably clung so tightly that it couldn't help but show off her incredibly impressive bust in all its magnificent splendour. On most people it would be just the sort of thing to wear to a Church, but when you have a pair of melons like Maria then perhaps it could possibly be considered slightly inappropriate.
On her legs she wore painted on black leggings that again displayed the perfect curve of her tight peachy bum emphasising the firm roundness of each beautifully proportioned cheek. To finish off she wore a pair of black suede knee high boots. Of course they had a reasonably high heel to give the 4ft 11inch tall bundle of fun a valuable few extra inches. So, happy with her look, she slipped on her red winter three quarter length coat lifting her long chestnut hair out and letting it fall down her back and headed off for the Church.
