Mother is an Uptight Redhead Ch. 03

Author's note: These events take place one week before those of chapters one and two.

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I was annoyed when the doorbell rang on Saturday after lunch. I had put away my knitting basket and was surfing the net looking at pictures of gay men shoving their enormous engorged cocks into one another. Frankly, I didn't want to be disturbed. But when I went to the door, I could see the UPS man climbing back into his brown truck at the end of the driveway. He'd rung the bell to let me know that there was a package on the front stoop.

Since I was wearing nothing but my flannel nightgown, I looked through the window to be sure the coast was clear. The only person in sight was old man McCarthy. God only knows if he could even see clearly across the street. So I opened the front door a crack, put my hand out, and grabbed the small package. The return address was "Smith Optical," which was the lame name used by sex toy company I favor. Goodness! That was so speedy! My new dildo was here already. I'm not one to rush into anything. I read a lot of online customer reviews before I chose this model. Sex and The City notwithstanding, those old jack rabbit vibrators were kind of a joke. But the next generation appeared to be much better, and I'd invested $55.00 in a cute pink model with a bulbous dildo and a bulbous clit stimulator. There were some similar ones for less money, but an order over $50 got free shipping, so what the heck. Now that it was here, I knew just how I'd try it out.

I could hardly contain myself until 4:00, but the time went fairly quickly as I did my hair and makeup and chose a pair of shoes that didn't clash too much with my new toy. I had two vodka tonics while I got ready. Enough to relax me but not enough to impair my driving. Then I drove over to St. Anthony's parish.

As I suspected, the parking lot was empty. Confessions had begun at 2:00, and although they continued until 5:00, there were few confessions from 2:30 to 4:30, when the rush would start with sinners getting absolved before 5:00 mass. I just might stick around until 5:00 myself, and then I wouldn't have to go out on Sunday morning until it was time to go to Junior's for lunch.

Sure enough, there was no one in the church. I like St. Anthony's because you can choose either face-to-face confession or old-school, private-box confession. Naturally, I was there for the latter. And the other wonderful thing about St. A's was the roomy confessional box seats. They were benches, not chairs.

"Bless me father, for I have sinned," I began. The rest was by the book, allowing me to proceed without thinking while I opened my purse and removed my new toy. I gave the usual standard list of envying my neighbor and so forth, then said "Father, I am afraid that my biggest problem is lust and weakness of will."

"Tell me more, child," he answered. By the age of the voice, it was Father Ambrose. He was about 50, could stand to lose 20 pounds, and his hair was getting gray. But not a bad looking fellow, and I'd seen his eyes wander up and down the ass of a female parishioner from time to time when he thought no one would see. He'd do just swell.

I softly set my right heel up on the wooden bench of the confessional, swung my left leg over to the left, and set my left heel into the corner of the confessional box. Planning ahead, I was wearing sensible shoes with good soles. Not the best shoes to show off my legs and ass, but good ones for hold me steady in that box. With my legs spread wide, it was a simple matter to reach down with my left hand and spread open the slit in my crotchless panties, exposing my naughty region to the fresh air. With my right hand, I twisted the base ring on the toy and it began to hum.

"Yes father, lust and weakness of will. Last night, I was at the grocery, and there was a young man, the oldest boy of the O'Rordan family, bagging my groceries. So I guess he must have been about 23. That poor family, with a grown boy like that still working at the Piggly Wiggly." I pushed the head of the larger bulb into my baby-making hole, which I'd lubed before leaving the house. The smaller bulb made contact with the head of my clit. I let out a small gasp. "He was just so cute," I continued, "I couldn't resist tempting him. When he asked me if I wanted a plastic bag for my bananas and cucumbers, I told him, 'You can bag me anytime with plastic.' I could see from the way his eyes widened that I'd implanted impure thoughts in that sweet young thing."

There was a little bit of trembling in my voice as I confessed. I was moving the dildo in and out very slightly, easing and then pushing hard against my clit while the fat hard rod filled my empty space. I'd had plenty of men, but few are as dependable as a good sex toy.

Fr. A's voice was reassuring. "Young men of that age are filled with lust. I'm sure that nothing you said incited any impurities that you need be concerned with." True enough. Sage advice. Had he caught on yet? Probably not.

"But Father," I continued, "It got worse. I told that young man that if he took my bag out to my car, I'd give him a nice tip. So he took them out to the station wagon, but when we got there and he put them in the back, I looked in my purse and then I told a lie. I told him I was out of cash!"

"And why did you lie?" asked Father Ambrose.

"Because, Father, I was tempted." I think my voice was getting very breathy. That toy was doing its job on my pleasure button, and I could feel the orgasm building. "Because of what I told him next. I told him that if he would tell me when he had a break, his tip would be in my mouth."

"And what did you mean by that?" asked the priest.

"I think you know, Father. What do aroused young men like to put in ladies' mouths?"

Confessional boxes are not completely dark, and I could see that Father Ambrose's elbow was moving slowing up and down. I could guess that the other end of that arm was resting between his legs, and that slight movement meant that his hand was moving up and down the shaft of this penis. He could not see the similar motion of my own arm because he stared straight ahead, never looking in my direction.

"But then I lied again, Father." I was beginning to speak through clenched teeth. I was getting close, and trying not to gasp or moan."I did not come back on his break, as I said I would. I was merely a temptress without action. Those are all my sins, Father." I cut it off because I had arrived.

There was still a regular movement of his arm on the far side of his body. "All right, child," he said. "It seems you were weak in the moment but controlled yourself. That is not weakness of will, but its opposite. Say two rosaries in penance." Then he began the absolution prayer as I started to orgasm. After years of learning to be quiet while others were in the house while my husband licked my clit every night at bedtime, bringing me to orgasm, there was nothing for Father Ambrose to hear but some very heavy breathing. The waves of pleasure ran down into my toes and my knees went weak; I couldn't hold myself still and so I pulled the toy from my wet canal, ending my orgasm rather abruptly. However, I had arrived at the promised land, if only briefly.

"Are you still there, my child?" asked Father Ambrose. He'd stopped talking a minute before, but I hadn't responded. I wrapped my goopy sex toy in the hankie that I'd brought for that purpose, and put it back into my purse. "Yes, Father, but you are being too kind to me. I may have resisted that impulse yesterday, but surely it is a sin to have engaged in deliberate planning to arouse a priest."

I sat up straight and smoothed my skirt. Now the pause was from the other side of the grilled panel.

"Well, no," said Father Ambrose. "When you know that you won't be the cause, but rather that your action is innocent and merely has the effect of arousal, then there is no sin."

"But Father," I said, standing up. "I came her hoping you'd be hard as a rock when I went out into the church to say my rosaries, and that you'd abuse yourself later, thinking of my voice."

I opened the door and went out. I walked forward about three pews, pushed down the kneeler, and got on my knees. I'd chosen a rather daring skirt, one that was above my knees. So my legs were quite visible to anyone who walked by that pew.

As I suspected, people started to show up a few minutes later, and Father Ambrose had a few confessions between then and 5:00. All of them old women. I laughed to myself, thinking of Father Ambrose and his woody while they told him their trivial wrongdoings. At 5:00, the priest's door opened and Father Ambrose stepped out of the confessional. He turned left and headed toward the front of the church, as I'd expected. I was holding my rosary conspicuously, and he slowed down when he caught sight of me. He looked at me and his eyes widened. I could see that he was calculating, deciding whether I was the one who'd told him about the bag boy while breathing heavily. He glanced at my legs and I felt his eyes move up them and over my ass. I caught his eye. "Was that two rosaries, or three?" I asked. He did not answer, but blushed red as he walked away. Unfortunately, when I stayed for 5:00 mass, it was Father Clement who said mass, so I got no further chance to arouse Father Ambrose that day.

Yet I knew that my image would be in his head when he closed his eyes that night, and he'd soon enough have a hard cock in his hand that he'd have to confess before he'd be absolving anyone else next Saturday.