The Service

By Sue Simpson

Chain Border

Father Burton scratched his balls surreptitiously beneath his cassock. He raised his eyes heavenward and offered a silent prayer.

"Oh lord, why do my balls have to get so sweaty with this bloody cassock on?"

Old 'Farty' Jackson was nearing the end of the second reading, he hadn't let rip during this service yet, but no doubt he would before communion was taken. This would send the choir boys into raptures of smirks and giggles. Jamie Morton-Smythe had choked on his top 'C' in the middle of Ave Maria last week. His first solo too, bless him. Shame!

The priest's eyes wandered for the umpteenth time to Sheila Fowler's modestly well-covered but none the less ample breasts. She chose just that moment to heave a whopping great sigh. It may have been a devout's emotion, at the reading of a classic verse from the good book, but it was more likely to be intense teeth grinding boredom. But oh what a sigh it was. Her great mammories lifted skyward and held for a second in all their glory, before plummeting back to rest softly upon her folded arms. And there they remained, presented like offerings on a sacrificial salver.

He frowned slightly as he felt his developing hard on push formidably against the thin material of his pants, and now he gave heavenward thanks for the thick, concealing folds of the cassock. He had to stand up for the next hymn in a few minutes, and yet the urge to stroke himself as he sat before his congregation, fantasising about Sheila Fowler, was becoming more powerful by the second. It was no good this bloody thing wasn't going anywhere of it's own accord apart from up and out. Perhaps if he slid his zip down, just to relive the pressure a bit, maybe his erection would retreat from whence it came.

Bad move priestie; as soon as that fella sensed freedom was attainable it strained at the end of his shaft and strove for the opening of the fly. This was ridiculous; he was in the middle of fucking mass for Christ's sake. It had been bad before, but never this bad. Looking down on Sheila's tits from his elevated vantage point, he couldn't envision continuing with the service unless he wanked himself to release.

It had been quite bad last week, when giving Sheila the holy sacrament of communion. Instead of cupping her hands to receive the wafer, she had closed her eyes and held out her tongue. He placed the small white circle of rice paper on her proffered tongue to melt, and had barely managed to choke out a husky "Body of Christ." The very tip of her tongue had caught on his finger. Her lids had snapped open and he was almost certain he had seen lust in her catholic blue eyes. Yet it couldn't be, he must have been mistaken. Wasn't he? He had rubbed that little droplet of saliva between his thumb and forefinger before sneaking it into his mouth to suck where her tongue had been, concealing the action with a slight clearing of his throat before continuing with the sacrament. He'd almost lost it then, as he had thoughts of plunging his rock hard dick into her mouth right there, with her kneeling on the alter steps before him.

He gave a grunt of resignation and his penis was free and in his hand, only the folds of his holy robes giving protection from the prying eyes of the ranks of the devout. Curling his fingers firmly round his hot urgency, he didn't even have the protection of his rostrum for coverage, he was sitting on one of the side pews in full view of everybody out there. Could he risk a look at Sheila? Why not!

She was opening and closing her mouth as she sang along to the hymn, but her eyes were watching him. His cock lurched in his hand and he couldn't contain the small and thankfully hushed groan that escaped his lips before he was aware of it. Simultaneously he pulled his foreskin back once and then quickly forwards again. A dribble of pre-cum rolled onto his forefinger and he smoothed it back over the head of his engorged penis.

Did she know what he was doing? Holy shit did anyone else? He looked around the congregation. No one except Sheila was paying any attention to him. Did she know? He would be cast from the church for this. So many scandals recently. So many good priests gone bad.

The hymn drew to a close with Elsie Tattersall holding that final note one octave higher and three seconds longer than anyone else did. Oh no. Now things were going to be awkward, he was going to have to get up walk across to the dais and begin the reading. Problem one being that his cock was at that purple headed I'm gonna cum any second stage. Problem Two being that he hadn't a bloody clue what the lesson was about, the only thoughts going round in his head were those of whether or not Sheila's knickers were moist.

He moved those seven steps, becoming more conscious with each one of his fully erect penis swinging from side to side under his cassock. It's head brushed against the harsh cotton of his robe, which only served to heighten his excitement. Once at the Dais instead of placing a hand either side of the huge bible as he normally would, he made a show of placing them 'monk' style into his robe. His heart was pounding and each breath rasped from him in a manner most unbecoming of a catholic priest.

He needed a few moments to compose himself, so he lowered his head dramatically in prayer. "What the frigging hell am I going to say? Oh god help me."

Father Burton did what he always did at such times; he began a standard tirade on SIN. It didn't matter that he seemed a little worked up and excited if the sermon was a rant on the evils of sin. He could rant and rave as much as he liked.

"Brother's, Sister's. What have YOU done today? HAVE YOU SINNED?" he began. His balls were so full and swollen that they ached. His dick was still defying gravity, veins pumping the blood along his shaft making him hurt with the desperate need to shoot his load all over his magenta robe.

Leaning over onto the dais, he supported himself on one hand. This hand was visible to his congregation, and he would lift it and demonstrate grandly and he spat out his words of repentance. The other hand was sidling down the front of his belly, he shuddered as it touched his seeping penis and then, it was again in his hand. A quick scan to see that neither the people in front of him, nor the choirboys off to the side were aware of what he was doing. His eyes locked with those of Sheila Fowler. Her cheeks were pinched with two high spots of colour. Her nipples clearly visible through the material of her blouse. She slowly licked her lips and her hand that was at her throat dropped a couple of inches. As he stared transfixed. Her fingers softly stroked the top of her cleavage. It was too late to stop now; he was wanking furiously beneath his robe. His breath came out panting between his fire and brimstone words. The congregation were now staring at him in rapt attention. Never had the young father Burton shown such passion in his sermon before. Sheila glanced once at her husband seated beside her and her fingers dropped onto her left breast circling her visibly erect nipple once before coming back up to rest at her throat. Her tongue again moistened her inviting lips. She slowly uncrossed her legs, and then re-crossed them.

"YOU ARE GOD'S CHILDREN AND I PROMISE YOU THIS!"

He shuddered and the first blast of cum shot from his spasming penis all over his hand.

"IF YOU REPENT NOW BRETHREN…"

His voice rasped, the word brethren ended on a grunt.

The second explosion of spunk sent tingles running the length of his spine. Sheila tightened her crossed legs and he saw her shift several times in her seat, her mouth was open slightly, and the red spots on her pale face had spread over her entire cheeks. This time he was in no doubt that the woman was aroused.

"YOU WILLL BE ASSURED OF YOUR PLACE IN HEAVEN!"

His buttocks clenched tightly together as he finished cumming. He wilted visibly onto the dais. Placing his forehead onto his arm he relaxed. Gradually his breathing began to slow. Wiping his soiled hand on the inside of his robe, he was aware of a large glob of spunk falling to the floor, he glanced down and saw that it had landed on his shoe. He must remember to find something to wipe it on, before greeting his congregation.

"Goodbye Mr. Fowler. My dear Mrs. Fowler I look forward to seeing you next week."

"Marvellous lesson Father, I believe the best you've ever conducted. Your faith is admirable and I hold you in the highest esteem."

"Thank you so much Mr. Fowler, it is praise such as yours that makes it worthwhile."

"I'd like to reiterate what my husband has said father, A VERY rousing sermon indeed."

As her husband preceded her down the path of the church. Mrs. Fowler gently brushed her hand against the front of Father Burton's cassock and located his now limp penis. It wasn't flaccid for long as he watched Sheila's arse swinging down the church walk.

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