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Oral Sex: A Satire
by Peter Duncan (mrsexy_blueyes@yahoo.com)

***

A young boy confesses to a priest that he and his 
sister have been engaging in "oral sex" since watching 
their mother and father, after coming home from a New 
Year's eve party and having sex on the couch in the 
living room. (mf-teens, voy, inc, oral)

***

Seating myself in the booth I pulled the curtain and 
waited, thinking about why I should feel compelled to 
tell. Perhaps it was because of the discussions I had 
with my friends whose amazed reaction to the story put 
the seed in my mind that I needed to seek absolution. 
It was clear that I had to tell.

The sounds of heavy man sitting emanated through the 
thin wall. I heard the shuffle of feet and the 
repositioning of the corpulent bottom of the aging 
priest. Bracing myself with my hands flat on the bench 
I tried to swallow the lump in my throat as the tiny 
door in the wall slid open. Through the lattice I could 
see the top of his shiny pink head and the ring of gray 
hair. 

"God bless you my son," he said in his high pitched 
Irish tenor voice, a whiff of alcohol following the 
words through the grille.

"Bless me Father, for I have sinned," I said in a quiet 
voice, not wanting my secret confession to be heard 
outside the small booth.

"In what way have you sinned, my son?"

"I've had oral sex with my sister, Father."

"Father in heaven," he whispered, followed by a 
cogitative silence. "Do you talk often about sex with 
your sister, my son?"

"Well—ung—we've been talking about it for quite a while 
Father."

"I see," another long pause, "and how old are you my 
son?"

"Fifteen."

"And how old is your sister, Marycate isn't it?"

"Yes Father. She's thirteen."

"Talking about sex to a young girl could lead her into 
sinful ways my son. She could become aroused and defile 
herself through self abuse. I'm sure your intentions 
are pure, but ya' must do no further talkin' about sex 
with Marycate, is that clear?"

"Yes Father."

"And, don't let this lead ya into this "oral sex" with 
other girls. That could lead ya' into to trouble… could 
ruin your life forever my son." 
"Yes Father."

"Play sports, my son. Read and keep your mind pure for 
the time you'll be getting' married. Let your mother in 
her wisdom have this "oral sex" with your sister."

I couldn't believe my ears. I had always thought 
priests possessed wisdom far greater than ordinary 
mortals. Here I was, having sinned; facing the prospect 
of giving the details of my sin to the very man whom I 
thought should know the gravity of my sinning.

"Say three novenas, my son. Go out and sin no more," he 
said sliding the door closed.

In a panic, I blurted "Wait Father, wait!"

The door reversed its slide. "Other sins to tell, my 
son?"

"No other sins Father, just this one."

"And that is?"

"Oral sex Father," I said in frustration.

"Do I misunderstand ya', my son?"

"I—I..." I stammered, not knowing how to begin. "I 
think you need to know that oral sex means more than 
just talking about sex, Father." Jesus, how can he not 
know about oral sex? I heard him shifting in the booth, 
breathing impatiently, as if he didn't like being 
detained.

"Are ya' jokin' in the confessional, my son? That's a 
mortal sin ma' boy, teddible, teddible!"

"B-but Father, just listen to me and you'll 
understand." Fer Christ sake, I thought.

I heard him breathe deeply, and then he said, "Wait 
here for a bit, my son. I'll be right back." He slid 
the door closed and I felt the booth shift with his 
weight as he left hurriedly; I thought he had to go to 
the bathroom. 

After waiting for what must have been about five 
minutes he entered again, his bottom thumping 
abundantly, his back hitting the wall, and his feet 
clumping on the floor. The door slid open again. "Go on 
my son." His words were followed by the strong smell of 
fresh alcohol.

"Well Father, my sister and I have been having oral sex 
for about a year. It began on New Year's Eve, after I 
heard Mom and Dad come home from a party. They didn't 
come upstairs for a long time. It was quiet downstairs. 
All of a sudden Dad cried out, "Oh my God!"

"Was he alright my son?"

"Well, my sister—she was 12 at the time—came out of her 
room the same time I came out of mine and we both crept 
down the stairs quietly and peaked through the 
railing."

"Were you parents okay, my son?"

"Well—er—ah."

"Go on."

"Well—uh—they were both naked; it was embarrassing. My 
father was lying on the couch. I thought he hurt his 
thing, because Mom was on her knees massaging it."

There was a pause on the other side of the grille. The 
priest's breathing accelerate through his nose. "Yes," 
he said breathlessly, "go on."

"His thing must have been really hurt because she 
kissed it and sucked it—you know—like you'd suck a hurt 
finger?"

"Yes." The voice on the other side of the grille 
sounded husky. "And then?"

"And then the strangest thing happened Father. Mom 
squatted down on top of Dad. Her knees were on either 
side of his head Father, and she lowered her thing 
right down on his mouth."

I heard quiet whispers through the grille "Hail Mary, 
full of grace, blessed art thou amongst women...." He 
repeated it three times, and then said breathlessly, 
almost in whisper, but louder than the prayer, "go on 
my son."

"Well Father, Mom and Dad were both licking and sucking 
one another. They were making strange sounds, almost 
like pigs oinking, saying words that we are not allowed 
to say." The effect of telling the story was the same 
as when I was watching with my sister; my penis had 
become fully erect and was pushing against my pants.

"Did you stop watchin', and go back to your rooms like 
you should have my son?"

"No Father."

"Shame on both of you; you should've gone back to bed," 
he said with irritation.

I sighed and said, "I know Father, but Marycate was 
giggling and pointing at my thing, which was sticking 
straight out of my pajama bottoms. I was so amazed at 
what Mom and Dad were doing that I hadn't even noticed—
and when I did I got very excited." 

"Yes?"

"She moved closer to me and, while craning her neck, 
looking at Mom and Dad—we both were—she whispered, 'Can 
I touch it?'"

The breathing on the other side of the grille became 
more pronounced. It sounded like his lips were closed 
and he was forcing the air in and out of his nose. 
"Yes, yes—go on, my son."

I told her she could. I was still looking at Mom and 
Dad, not wanting to miss anything. But when Marycate's 
finger touched the head of my thing it felt kind of 
like a shock."

"She was touching your privates, boy?" 

"Yes Father, and I watched her move her fingers around 
like she was pointing to places on a map."

"And you didn't make her stop?"

"It felt good Father."

"Yes, yes," he said quietly, a hint of approval in his 
voice. "Go on."

She told me, "It's warm and shiny." I was torn between 
watching Mom and Dad, whose legs both seemed to have 
each other's head in a headlock. Their bodies were 
writhing like they were in pain. They were slurping, 
and moaning.

"And what was Marycate doin?"

"She was paying attention only to my thing Father."

"And you?"

I was going crazy the way her fingers were making my 
thing feel…kind of moaning myself, I would say." 

"So ya' were enjoyin' this sin, huh lad?"

"Y, yes Father," I said, blushing hotly, feeling guilty 
in his presence.

He paused, moved around on his seat and said in an 
almost cheerful voice, "So what then me boyo?"

"Marycate told me in a whisper, 'This is soo neat', 
giggling softly as her fingers found new spots to 
excite. I waited for a response from the priest, heard 
shuffling of feet, and what sounded like the opening of 
a zipper.' 

"Go on, go on," he urgently, his voice gravelly and 
husky.

"A clear liquid formed on my pee hole, and she 
whispered 'ooooh, kewl' and giggled. I watched as she 
put her finger against the slit, rubbed a tiny circle, 
then took her finger away. The goo formed a lengthening 
string from her finger to my thing, and then it broke 
away. She giggled again, then rubbed through the goo 
with her finger and thumb together, and then touched 
her finger to her tongue and tasted it.'" 

"Did she like it, my son?"

"She said it was kind of sweet and kept gathering more 
on her finger and tasting it."

"Yes, yes my son. Go on, go on," he said with such a 
strange tightening in his voice.

I told him I was torn between what was going on with 
Mom and Dad, and my sister playing with my pecker. They 
were moaning and gasping on the couch, and Marycate's 
had wrapped her fingers around my boner, moving the 
loose skin up and down. 

"Kewl!" she whispered and she started moving her hand 
up and down faster and faster. "It feels so big and 
warm," she said. 

Mom and Dad were in a spasm, both of their legs having 
stopped squeezing. They were moving, "kind of like 
frogs kicking," and Dad let out a long cry, muffled by 
Mom's thing on his mouth. 

Mom cried out, "Oh yesss, honey!" and, "you taste so 
good!" When her mouth came off his thing, "man it was 
big," I could see that it was all red and shiny, with 
white stuff all over it, and it was shrinking. 

Just as I saw this, I felt my sister moving her hand up 
and down, and because of what I just saw with Mom and 
Dad, it felt like my balls exploded, and I heard her 
say, "Kewl!" then "eewww!" 

I looked down and saw her wiping my stuff off her hand 
on her nightgown. 

"That's gross!" she said.

"I'm shocked at Marycate, me boy," the priest said; and 
you allowed her to do this?"

"Yes," I said blushing hotly. "Marycate ran upstairs 
and went into her room. I tip-toed up the stairs and 
went to mine."

"And that was the extent of your sin my son?"

"Uh, well, I tried to go to sleep Father."

"You didn't masturbate, did ya?" he blurted urgently 
"That's a mortal sin, ya know?"

"No I didn't Father but I couldn't sleep."

"Thank the Lord for small favors," he whispered. "So 
that was the end of it?"

"Well no," I replied, "Marycate couldn't sleep either. 
She came into my room and climbed into my bed. She was 
n, naked Father."

"Saints presarve us," he rasped then paused for a long 
time. I felt the booth rock gently for awhile until he 
said, "Go on my son."

"Marycate told me that she wanted to do what Mom and 
Daddy were doing. She climbed on top of me and put her 
thing right on my mouth, bent forward and sucked my 
pecker into her mouth."

"That's disgusting son," he said, "ya' didn' like it 
did ya?" The rocking of the booth increased.

"I did like it Father—a lot. I never tasted anything 
like it before like her thing. It was good."

"What'd it taste like lad?" he said, letting out "uh, 
uh, uh" sounds to the rocking of the booth.

I tried to remember and couldn't describe the taste. 
"It tastes like pussy Father, one of the best things 
I've ever tasted."

"Lordy." he whispered then gasped, "and then what?"

"Marycate was wiggling on my face and I was licking and 
slurping. She grunted while she sucked my thing and I 
was going crazy Father." I found myself masturbating 
through the fabric of my pants. The booth was rocking 
hard now. I continued, "I couldn't stop myself Father. 
My stuff shot inside Marycate's mouth." 

The booth rocked heavily from the priest's movement. I 
heard, "Uh, uh, uh,' came followed by, "Heaven be 
praised." 

I had cum in my pants, felt my hot semen pooling in my 
underwear warming my the bottom of my scrotum. There 
was silence in the confessional that seemed to last a 
long time. Then I heard, "Did she swalla' it boyo?"

"No Father, she spit it out."

"Too bad boyo, destroyin' the seed's a mortal sin."

"But she swallows it now," I said with a feeling of 
vindication, "and says she likes it Father".

"Well now," he said with a hint of anticipation in his 
voice. 

No sound came from through the wall of the 
confessional. I could hear the organist practicing for 
tomorrow's mass, and people milling around waiting for 
their confessions to be heard. Then I heard his voice 
again: "That'll be twenty hail Mary's and three acts of 
contrition."

I got up from my seat, my bottom numb from sitting so 
long on the hard surface. The goo in my underwear was 
now cold and uncomfortable. I needed to go to the 
bathroom. I leaned forward to open the curtain.

"Wait my son," the priest said through the grille. 
"Before ya' begin your penance go tell Father Kruzynski 
that I had an accident and need a new cassock…" 

"And send Marycate down to see me, will ya' my son?"

END

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
This story was written as an adult fantasy. The author
does not condone the described behavior in real life.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 40