He was ready for intercourse. As he ground against her with a gentle but insistent urgency, he said, “make eye contact with me, my dear, deep and real and soulful.”
Lifting her lids, she stared into those deep brown eyes, those eyes that seemed to contain worlds. He thrust a few times, not putting himself into her, just enjoying the back and forth movement, the grinding of their bodies, the sweat, the heat, the warmth. Now he took both of her wrists in his hands, as though he was cuffing her. Taking complete and utter control over the sexy situation, he pushed himself in and out, pausing longer each time as he did. Julianna writhed with difficult but worthwhile joy under his strong hands.
Father Briar’s rhythm increased but he lost none of his precision, or any of his gentle care for her. His thrusts became wild and strong but not savage or brutal. What little pain she felt only enhanced the pleasure, the utterly incomparable pleasure.
Julianna lost all self-control as he pounded. Everything but sex was lost, Cedric had taken over completely, and the chemicals and juices of sex coursed through her as his cock took over her vagina for what seemed like hours. After an orchestral build, he came with a long scream. Still new to lovemaking, this was a cry of ecstatic orgasm Julianna had not yet heard.
She loved it.
Lying next to Cedric while he slept in post-coital bliss, Julianna felt safe and just as importantly, warm. This winter, warmth was safety. But to him, his Order was safety, his parish was safety, his educational rigor and place in the Church’s hierarchy was safety.
“What am I?” she thought.
She knew the circumstances of her relationship with unique and fraught with danger for Cedric, danger both professional and moral. She knew that they would have to have a talk about how to bring harmony and religious balance to a relationship that would not take easily to either.
“How is this going to work,” she asked him when he woke. She’d had a sleepless night; he’d slept like a baby, without as much as a stir.
“I put it in you, take it out, put it in, for as long as both of us can last without coming,” he joked quite seriously.
“This isn’t a joking matter, Cedric.”
“You are right, it isn’t. But happiness and love like ours never falls into your lap. You must pursue it by being true to yourself first.”
She laughed in his face. “You believe you’ve been true to yourself. The promises you’ve made to the Society of Jesus, your beloved Order?”
“What if I lose you? How could I deal with that again? Our first separation was so hard!”
“Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?” he said, quoting the book of Romans. “The same is from us, Julianna. We shall not be separated again.”
You’ve been my constant, my reason, and a part of my religion, even. A part that I’m still figuring out, yes, but still, an integral and pleasurable part.
These winters aren’t easy on me, either, and you’re and my motivation get through them, to eventually get to spend a summer with you. First one summer, then many, many more. I know I love you and throughout the whole time we were separated, I prayed that you would, one warm day, love me, too.”
“We’ll get through it, Julianna “I know we will. We’ll get through the morality, the amorality, the immorality.”
“What we are doing is not immoral.”
“I don’t believe it is either. Sorry. I got a little of my “preacher’s rhythm” going there for a m0ment. We will make it because you’ve changed me, you’ve changed my long-cherished views, and you’ve helped me through some long, cold nights.”
“Making it through another long, freezing night together sounds wonderful. Can we try again tonight?”
There was nothing either of them wanted more. His body was wonderfully comforting, smooth and strong; his back was rippled and full of contours that she wanted to explore all night. She was warm and safe, but somewhere in her heart of hearts, when she woke up, she’d be alone.
Chapter Sixteen: At Home With the Olsens.
They were watching I Love Lucy and arguing about morality, a combination that went like white wine with fish in the 1950’s.
“Your father and I forbid you from seeing that girl,” Trig’s mother said. “She is a bad influence.”
Ty Olsen was no dummy; he was pretty sure it was his son that was the bad influence, knowing well how teenage boys, especially those with extra testosterone from athletics, could be.
“Focus on hockey,” he said with a smile he hoped was accommodating to his wife and stern to his son but was ridiculous to both.
Lucy and Ricky were arguing about Ricky’s career. A nightclub singer was no respectable job.
“You are going to college, right?” his mother pressed, for the forty seventh time that day.
“If the boy can get a spot on a junior hockey time, that is a fine living.”
“Semi-professional hockey? Why would he prostitute himself like that?” his mother scoffed. “The boy has an intellect which should be polished in college.”
“Tough to polish a turd,” Ty the taxidermist thought, but said instead “Semi-pro hockey gives him a shot at the big time.”
“I don’t just have a shot at the big time,” Trig piped up, “I’m a sure thing.”
Ricky played his bongos to drown out Lucy’s harping. Lucy was an attractive woman in Ty Olsen’s eyes and he constantly pined for Ricky to get so goofy Lucy would leave her ethnic husband and settle down with a nice Norwegian farmer.
“Nothing is a sure thing, the Bible teaches us that,” his mother said, returning to a theme that was as effective with teenagers than as it is now.
“Does the Bible teach us how to shoot a slapshot?”
“The Bible teaches us how to be saved.”
“Trigger Olsen shoots, Jesus saves, Trig with the rebound and he scores!” her son said in his best radio play-by-by announcer’s voice.
His mother was properly offended by his blaspheming and left the room.
Once he did, his dad gave him a big old hug, because, well, boys will be boys.
“Trigger shoots, Jesus saves,” his father chuckled. “Now that is funny enough to be on Ed Sullivan.”
Trig wandered off, leaving his dad to the rest of the night’s television. He was hoping to find a can of beer stashed somewhere, something to take his mind off of Ramona.
The I Love Lucy theme played in his head, with the jingle modified by teenage hormones.
I love Ramona and she loves me.
We're as happy as two can be.
Sometimes we quarrel but then
How we love making love again.
Ramona fucks like no one can
she’s my girl and I'm her man,
And life is Heaven you see,
'Cause I love Ramona, I fuck Ramona,
and Ramona loves me!
Had the boy been in any way theologically inclined (despite his mother and Father Briar’s best interests) he would’ve noticed the link between sex, love, and Heaven in the doggerel he’d composed, but he didn’t. Trig just thought it was a funny, filthy song. The great tragedy of youth is not that it is wasted on the young but because it fails to recognize the profound truth in the vulgarity and blasphemy it loves so much.
Chapter Seventeen: Close Encounters Will Test Lovers
Something sexy and strange had come over the residents of Brannaska.
These were gatherings for friends, crushes, flirtations, ex’s, drinking buddies, and high-school reunions. There was renewed interest in sex. Trigger was all over his girlfriend, Gosha’s nocturnal wanderings (and peeping!) had been more erotically rewarding, and Cedric and Julianna couldn’t keep their hands off of one another.
They were in the parish house.
This was a big step in their relationship, being daring enough to sneak around and into one another’s most private places. The risk of being caught only enhanced the app
eal of the sex.
Furthermore, they were doing it in the morning, after not being satiated the evening before. Light streamed through the windows and both of them found this unbearably erotic.
Father Briar liked being in control; this was newfound and both of them were enjoying the discovery. Father Briar had been making her undress in front of him. There was something so wonderful about the female form; did his fellow priests know what they were missing?
“I’m not taking off my clothes by myself again,” she informed him, stubborn and sexy.
“Fair is fair, I suppose,” he admitted, and stood up, and slowly took his shirt off. This brought a smile to her face. His body was still young and firm and strong, his skin free of blemishes, and his cock stiffening.
She took off her bra. It was a new one for her, unhooking in the front. This he found impossibly and inexplicably sexy.
He dropped his pants, the belt buckle tinkling like wind chimes as it fell. He kicked them and his underpants away from his ankles.
Her panties were another story entirely; she wanted to keep wearing them for a while. They, too, were new, cherry red, and very lacy. Julianna tried to pull him to the bed, but hobbled by both his erection and his embarrassment about having to strip himself, he fell on top of her, sending them tumbling ass-first on the bed.
They laughed and laughed and rolled around in one another’s arms.
“Nobody told me and I had never imagined, that making love would be so funny! I had many, many thoughts about it, many anticipations and expectations, but I did not think it would be so humorous. This must be what true love feels like,” he concluded.
Cedric slid off of the bed and down to his knees on the carpet. He spread her legs at the knees and marveled at the sight of her. Then he began his kissing. Thighs first, then upward. But he was clever, and he made her be patient. The kisses landed on her tummy, the soft curve of her hips, her excited breasts, and all the way up to her neck. Then he dropped back down again.
Oh! His pace and his timing were fantastic. It was different every time with him. Now he was keeping his kisses tender and easy. He loved their time together and wanted this lovemaking to last hour after hour after hour, he wanted savor every inch of her, wanted to remember her pale, fine skin, wanting this to last forever.
Then, as suddenly and unexpectedly as a winter storm, Julianna seemed uncomfortable being so naked. He noticed the change in her body language and asked about it; usually it was him that was shy. Julianna closed her legs.
But Cedric didn’t want allow it. He lightly parted them again, this time using his chin.
This bit of daring thrilled her and reignited her libido. “Let me see you. All of you,” he said, his voice raspy and full of lust. She took a deep breath and pressed her breasts together. She exhaled. Her breath was sweet and minty and he wanted to kiss her, but not on the mouth. No, he wanted to go down, down deeper, wetter, hotter…
“Look into my eyes, lover, lets watch each other and see each other’s pleasure. Do you see how excited you make me?” she said, using her index finger to spread her folds and show him her glistening pearl. “See how goddamned turned on I am by your body?” she grinned.
The blasphemy made the sex even better!
“Goddammit, goddammit, goddammit!” she cried.
He couldn’t help it; Father Briar wondered if God could hear her. They were in the tool shed in the snowed-over baseball field behind the church. Cedric had brought in a kerosene space heater and blankets, and there amongst the balls and bats and rakes and hoes and such, they made love in their little nest.
Her cursing sounded sweet to him, funny and sexy, not angry or aggressive. Cedric was getting aggressive, though, and he pressed a kiss below her belly button, on the tender bundle of nerves just above her pubic bone.
Now it was her turn to be aggressive. She grabbed him by the hair and pulled him up; putting his head to each breast and making him suck yet again, then pushing him down between her thighs, which she willingly parted this time.
He glanced up at her, brown eyes wild and crazy with lust. His hot, hungry mouth paused over her pussy, making her wait one last time.
Then he showed his tongue in as deep as it would go.
That she didn’t pass out astonished her. “How have I waited this long to experience this?” she marveled. In and out he went. She lost track of time, all she knew was that her hands were still tied up in the hair on his head and his tongue was in the hair down below.
For an inexperience cunnilinguist, he was great at it. He used his lips to part hers and his tongue as a hard, sentient little cock that could explore every last hidden curve of her.
She tasted so so so sweet. And she was now so wet, her juices flowing from her and making the blanket warm and damp and slick. He rubbed some of the precious juices on his cock. Damn, he wanted to put it in her. But not yet. Not yet.
He wanted to keep sucking at her, keep pressing his lips against her, keep feeling her wiggle and twist and squirm beneath his talented tongue. He wanted to make her lose her mind, to come undone, to go a little crazier than she ever had before.
So he did.
Father Briar took his time, causing Julianna to lose track of it. He was succeeding in is intent to passionately explore and reveal every delicate bit of her, every last sweet warm bit of pinkness, every fold, curve, and twist.
Julianna knew she was on the verge of an orgasm. She couldn’t let that happen. She wanted the pleasure to keep going and going and going. Now he was using his thumbs as well as his tongue.
Her whole body quivered and pulsed. Sounds grew in her throat before escaping fully formed, loud and happy and horny. She pressed her hips forward, harder, into him, onto that remarkable tongue. Now it was his turn to moan. His sounded strangled and suffocated. This was a great thrill to her, having momentary control over him like that. Julianna liked it when he was vulnerable. She squeezed her thighs tighter and rode him harder
They both loved this part of sex, the physicality and the intensity of it all. They loved the way they could nearly lose their minds in each other’s bodies. He loved the change in the taste of her, from her first sweetness to her later muskiness. He loved how he could play her body as though it was a hi-fi, making her louder and then quiet, hot then cool, happy then agitated and horny.
Finally, she untangled her fingers from his hair, freeing him from his lover’s duties. But he stayed with them; he stayed down there, still eager and excited. Julianna started babbling, so great was the pleasure. She couldn’t put sentences together, she couldn’t put words together, and even syllables were escaping her. Finally she regained control enough to start shouting “yes, yes, yes…”
Then her swollen clit went stiff and she went silent but for the panting.
Worried that he might move away and stop pleasuring her, she told him to stay right there.
“I just need a moment” she begged. “I just need a moment. I want to come again.”
Like a good man who was used to obeying the rules, he stayed right there, his soft breathing complimenting his sucking mouth, his attention and his intensity not waning, slowly stroking himself to her grinding movements. He kissed her soft and sweaty thighs again and again, showing great patience and control, under she was ready again.
She didn’t say anything; she just turned over, presenting herself for him that way. She still had her stockings on and he found that unbearably sexy. He didn’t want to enter her just yet; he wanted to still prolong this further.
They were still new lovers!
And they were still new to love. “I’ve wanted to put my hands all over you since Sunday at mass. You looked so beautiful in your new dress. I wanted to stop mass and start with you.
He touched her ass, grabbing at it greedily.
“I was feeling the same way. It almost felt sinful to be in church, feeling such feelings. But, oh! The sin felt so good.”
She rolled over, wanting to look him in the eyes.
>
“My stars, you are fantastic. Sex is fantastic. We are fantastic. One minute we’re arguing about theology and the next moment we are…we are…we are fucking!”
She didn’t think she’d ever heard him use that word before. It thrilled her as much as it thrilled him.
And he was right, that was how this sexual session had started; they’d been arguing about the morality of the vows of priestly celibacy and lifelong bachelorhood. This had turned into stripping, and yes, fucking.
“I love your animal lust, I love your body, I love how you love me,” she told him.
“I love that you don’t treat me like a priest. You treat me like a man. Not a man of God, but a real flesh and blood man.
“I love that you didn’t treat me like a doll or a child. You treat me like a woman. Not like a plaything. Although you use me like your plaything, and I love that, too! Hurry up and do it again.”
He obliged.
“You want me, you got me. Is that cool?”
“Very cool,” she agreed.
He lifted her legs up over her shoulders. Her eyes widened and her mouth pursed into a cute little pouty smile.
“Your intensity is so powerful. God, Cedric, who thought sex could be so great?”
“I never knew,” he said, panting and still pounding. “Especially when it’s all so very new to me.”
Her cheeks flushed and her breasts rose and fell with her rapid breath.
“I haven’t been with a lot of men, either. The sex was pretty boring, too.” She leaned up and kissed him, keeping his lips in her mouth for a long time while she ground herself against the base of his cock.
“But from the first time you kissed me, all the way back there in Spokane; I knew you were different, that you were wonderful, and that sex would be amazing with you.
Cedric groaned and paused, trying to delay his climax. “Even though I’d never done it before?” he asked.
Father Briar and The Angel Page 11
