Author: ToryDonahue Published: 12/10/2007 story views: 10030
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I was introduced to him by my best friend, Ron. It was the sixties. He was a new priest at St. Dominic's, a large Catholic Church on Long Island, where we lived. To me he seemed way too young to be a priest, he had told he was in his mid thirties, but he looked no older than 25. He was kind of short, plump, and had light brown hair. He had a nice, soft face. It was clear that he had never worked at a tough, physical job like my buddy and I did. We were both 18 and worked part time being "gofers" for a construction company owned by my buddy's uncle. Most of the time we were carrying bricks and mortar. My buddy always tried to draft me into going to church with him, his parents made him go, or so he said. I never really heard him complain too much, though. I always refused. My family wasn't very religious.
One Friday afternoon Ron told me to meet him at his house before we went out that night. When I got there, I found there were three or four other guys our age, or thereabouts, there and Father Paul. Instead of going out, we sat around and talked. I was a bit pissed, but what was I going to do. Father Paul was "cool," or at least he wanted to act that way. He really didn't talk religion, just stuff. As this was in the late sixties, I guess the Church was trying to pull in younger folks. It actually turned out to be a fun evening. We talked about lots of different subjects. Father Paul suggested that we make it a regular, weekly, "round table." All of us agreed. We would meet at Father Paul's office at the church. "More room there," he explained to us.
The following Friday night we met at Father Paul's office. This time there were only three kids, Ron, myself, and a kid we knew, but weren't really good friends with. Again, it was fun, interesting. My buddy and the other kid had to be home early, but I stayed as Father Paul and I were discussing one of my favorite subjects, whether alien life existed elsewhere in the Universe. I lived close to the Church so walking home wasn't a problem. About fifteen minutes after the other two had left, he changed the subject to dreams. And a few minutes after that, we were on the subject of wet dreams. Frankly I was fascinated by whether or not priests had sex drives. My family had never been religious so I had no idea. I knew Catholic priests took oaths of celibacy, they didn't marry and they didn't have sex. I found that odd, as about the only thing I thought of at that time was sex. I was jerking off three to four times a day.
My fantasies were wide ranging, and included every sexual circumstance possible. Father Paul was very graphic. Of course he had a sex drive, a strong sex drive he emphasized to me. He told me that like all guys he had wet dreams. We discussed what some of mine had been, weird ones, like a cat licking my penis, it's rough tongue making me ejaculate. He told me of a recurring wet dream he had. "I'm standing at a urinal, I think it's at a train station. I'm alone. There are two urinals there. I'm excited, hard, you know. I can't piss. Then a man walks in. He is