Author's Note: This is a story of non-consensual/reluctant, gay sex. There are elements of religion. If any of these things offend you, please do NOT read any further! You have been warned!
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'Bless me father, for I have sinned.'
The familiar words spilled easily from my lips, even if I knew the confession itself wouldn't be as easy.
'It has been at least 6 months since my last confession.' I admitted, somewhat ashamed.
While not a terribly religious man, I normally went through the motions of being a good Catholic. I attended church every Sunday, not just on Christmas and Easter. I took communion. I tithed money every week. The only thing I had problems with was confessing my sins to the parish priest on a regular basis.
I tended to stave off my confessional visits until my conscience got the better of me. I would struggle with my feelings for awhile, and eventually would drag myself into the church on a Saturday afternoon, knowing that was the busiest time at the confessionals, hoping that the old priest wouldn't place my voice as I confessed my sins to him.
This Saturday was no different. In fact, if anything it was busier than normal, and I noticed that 2 confessionals were being used. I grew a bit concerned, not knowing which one old Father Francis was in. I preferred confessing to him because I was fairly certain he had no clue who I was, and while probably somewhat mortified by my confession, he would absolve me with my promise of contrition.
I played a mental game of eenie, meenie, miney, moe and stepped into the line that I hoped would be Father Francis' line. After waiting approximately half an hour for people to enter the small, closet-like confessional, it was finally my turn.
As I peered through the mesh screen that separated me from the priest, I was able to visually deduce that it WASN'T Father Francis, but was in fact another priest whom I had seldom seen around, Father Donahue. His smooth, but firm voice responded to my request for blessing.
'The fact that you are here now, my son, shows that you are repentant. What are your sins?'
I hesitated slightly, and felt my voice drop to a whisper.
'Father, I have been struggling with...Homosexual desires...' I could feel his judgmental silence in the confines of his own part of the confessional, but I continued. 'I find myself becoming aroused in the presence of other men...Wanting to do sexual things with them.'
I stopped, waiting to hear his reply. My heart was thumping loudly in my chest. I had come to confess this a few times before, and after my confession, I would kneel in a pew and say my required acts of contrition before returning home to my wife. This would keep me for a few months before the feelings would rise to the surface, yet again. I hadn't yet acted on my desires, but God, I wanted to! I depended on my parish priest to give me strength and save me from myself.
After a brief silence from Father Donahue, he replied in his low voice.
'Tell me these feelings, my son. What about men arouses you? What is it that you desire?'
I was aghast, as Father Francis had never asked such questions before. He would offer a small lecture on the evil of sodomy, and the abomination of homosexuals before granting me forgiveness and sending me on my way with the assigned penance.
'Well..I...I don't know. I find men attractive. Their strength. Their scent. The idea of feeling a muscular body against mine.'
Quickly I reminded him that I hadn't acted yet on my desires...
'I can't help it, Father. When I'm in a situation where I'm around men, I can't help but get aroused.'
'What do you mean by aroused?' He asked. 'And what acts are you wanting to perform?
I stammered briefly...Shocked that the priest would want details.
'Well....My penis becomes erect. I find myself breathing hard. My heart begins to beat faster.' I struggled to find the words. 'I want to become intimate with another man.'
'And what do you mean by intimate?' He pressed.
I stumbled over my words, unable to say aloud the things I had been thinking..Desiring..His silence was deafening as he waited for me to reply to his question.
'I want another man to touch me.' I finally whispered.
'Touch you where? How?'
I blinked, again feeling such shame. I knew my face must be beet-red from the burning I felt. My voice dropped into an even softer whisper.
'I want a man to touch my penis. And I want to touch his.'
I could tell by his silence that he wanted me to continue...He wasn't satisfied by so brief a description. The words didn't come any easier.
'I want to put my mouth on his penis. I want to suck it. I fantasize about it constantly.'
'I see' Came the reply. 'Is that all you wish to partake in? Or is there more?'