Gay Erotic Stories

I remember Sr. Carmella being in charge back when I went to school at St. Dominic's. She had to be at least 100 years old--even back then. We called her Sr. "Cruella" at the time, for obvious reasons. Never in all my wildest of dreams did I ever imagine I'd be back at that place, but the alternative of jail seemed to be a bit harsh to handle. Okay, I got caught doing something dumb, vandalizing the cemetery that the parish ran, but I hadn't intended on getting caught at all. No, the idea was that I would plant seeds of destructive activity in the younger kids' minds and that they would take the risk of being caught. We all got caught, but since I'm the only one over eighteen who was involved in this little activity, I'm the only one to be prosecuted. My grandmother was beside herself about what to do. She couldn't even come up with bail money to keep me out of jail for the night, and I spent 36 hours in a cell with eight other guys. I won't tell you how that turned out, at least not in this story. This one, you see, has to deal with the theme of "getting caught". Yeah, I got caught turning over gravestones at the cemetery, but there's more to it than that. "Why Daniel Reed, I knew you'd come to no good!" she shrieked and I couldn't believe that Sr. Carmella was still alive, much less still in charge of St. Dominic's School and Convent. I sat in her office (as I had some 10 years earlier) and heard her read off a list of what behaviors were and were NOT acceptable in this school. The situation was different now because I was going to be there not as a student but as a custodian. "You got the better of me as a young upstart, and now I'm going to make you sorry, make you pay for your sins" she said, to which I replied "Fuck you sister!" "What did you say?" she bellowed, and I insisted that I'd said "Thank you sister.....thank you for giving me a chance to redeem myself to you and to the church". "and......?" she said, expecting me to finish the sentence. "and to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ!" I said, repeating the phrase that had been drummed into me during all of my years in the parochial schools. Oh yeah, Sr. Carmella insisted upon me going to Confession before she allowed me to start working, just to cleanse myself for the duties before me. At first I wasn't going to admit to the priest that I'm heavy into cock-sucking and butt-fucking and almost anything that two guys can do with one another. I'll bet Sr. "Cruella" has no idea what a turn-on it is to be stripped and hand-cuffed to the four corners of a bed and have some big trucker piss all over you and then turn you over and ram his big cock up your ass. Something tells me that Sr. Carmella has never experienced that thrill....at least not at the truck stop on any major interstate highway. In the confessional box I couldn't see the priest on the other side but I could hear him. His voice was deep and interesting and I could tell that he wasn't the old Monsignor who had been at the church since as long as I can remember. Just as I was ready to leave, having already been given my twelve "Our Fathers" and six "Hail Marys" to say, I paused for a moment and then said: Father?" "Yes my son, what is it?" "I have more sins to tell you" I said. "Go on" he said, and I went into some pretty graphic detail about a recent sexual experience I'd had with a girl I met downtown. He seemed to be okay with it until I mentioned that I also made it with the girl's older brother. "Tell me about it" he said, and I spent about fifteen minutes relating every detail of how Joey Fanelli had sucked my cock and then rimmed me for a good long time before I begged him to fuck my ass. At one point he tried to stop me, but I insisted that I needed to tell him the whole story in order to feel better about my sins. The way he was breathing on the other side of that screen indicated to me that this priest was as turned on hearing me tell the story as I was to tell it. I thought about dressing things up a bit, exaggerating a little to make the story better, then I realized that the true story was plenty hot. "Another Hail Mary should do it" he said, pulling down the shade on the screen between him and me and I realized he intended my Confession to be over. I was hard just from telling him about it. My first day was brutally hard, down on my hands and knees scrubbing the hard-waxed floors of the upper hallway of the school. She expected it to gleam and shine when I was done and it damned near did. The next day wasn't much better. My job was to polish every pew in the church then begin on the rain-gutters on the convent. I fell into bed each night exhausted and too tired to even imagine what a pleasure it would be to have been sentenced to jail where I'd have a reasonably comfortable bed, a television set and plenty of "room-mates" willing to fuck my ass with their horny, hard cocks. You can see that sending me to St. Dominic's to serve my sentence was a far greater punishment than jail. Too bad I couldn't just tell my grandmother (and the lawyer she hired with the last few dollars of her social security check) to drop the negotiation. She meant well, but what a waste it was! I'd been there nearly a week when I went into the gymnasium after school and there was practice for sixth grade basketball going on. The kids were pitiful, but the coach was a real hunk. He was young, maybe late twenties or so, with really dark hair and a good build. He wore a t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts which showed a pair of thickly muscled and densely haired legs. His white t-shirt had almost a gray cast to it and I figured that the guy's wife probably ought to be using bleach on his laundry to get it cleaner. "Okay, that's it guys" he announced and the pre-pubescent kids on his team scattered to grab their bags and school books before exiting the small gymnasium. "Hi" he said, walking over toward me, and I apologized for running them out of the gym. "It's okay, they were at the end of their few minutes of concentration anyway" he said. "You must be Daniel" he said, adding that Sr. Carmella had told him I would be coming in the work on the gym at 5:30. "Yeah, that's me" I said and then he shocked me with his next comment. "I'm Fr. Anthony Cannata, the new assistant pastor". He didn't look like a priest, at least not dressed in his coaching duds. Then he went on. "We haven't met yet, but I recognize your voice. Have we spoken on the phone?" "No Father, but you heard my confession the other day" I said, using the same deep whisper that I'd used in the confessional box and also glaring right into his eyes to see what kind of reaction it would get. He became immediately uncomfortable and said that he needed to get to an appointment. The next day I was in the convent performing some mindless chore that Sr. "Cruella" had devised to keep me occupied for the day. It was warm and I'd stripped off my shirt. I wonder how those damned nuns can stand it in warm weather what with all that shit they wear to cover their revolting (no doubt) bodies. I heard the doorbell ring and I went to answer it, thinking it would be a delivery or the mailman or something. I opened the door and saw Fr. Anthony on the other side. On this particular day he wore a plain dark shirt with the top button open. Thick tufts of dark hair poked out the top and a heavy pelt coated his arms. Suddenly I realized that what I'd mistaken the previous day in the gym as a dingy shirt was really just the man's incredibly thick and dark coat of hair making the white shirt appear to be darker. "Is Sr. Carmella here?" he asked, and I realized that he knew as well as I did that the old bitch was occupied until 3:05 at least, and most likely later than that. I decided to play along and said "Not right now, but I expect her back any minute Father. You want to come in and have a seat?" "Yeah sure, why not?" he said, and I showed him to the parlor of the old home used by the 14 nuns who ran the school. "Can I get you something?" I asked, then realized that I was in a house where fourteen nuns lived. The chances of them having beers in the fridge was minimal. "No I'll just wait, go on about your business and don't let me interrupt Daniel" he said. Aha, he'd remembered my name. That was a good sign. I continued to work on cleaning the windows of the convent, making sure to stretch and expand my back and arms and shoulders with each stroke I took to wipe the surface of the glass. Because of the garage beyond the window the glass served more like a mirror than a window and I could see the reflection of the priest in the glass. He couldn't keep his eyes off me, and when I turned abruptly to face him I could see that his line of vision had been locked on my nicely shaped ass. By turning around, I now presented him an equally good view of my bulging crotch. "Something wrong Father?" I asked him, running a hand over my sweaty well-muscled chest and causing the nipples on my mounded pecs to stiffen a bit due to the feel of my hands against them. "No...um...it's nothing.....just that......well I was wondering if you were telling me the truth last week or making that up for shock value," he finally blurted out, and I gave him a blank questioning look. "Huh?" I said, then pretended to realize what he was talking about. "Oh....you mean in the confessional!?" and I insisted that every single embarrassing thing I told him there had been true (I had been!) "You must think I'm awful!" I said, "just like Sr. Carmella does". "Does she know about your.....well,....you know?" he said, and I was almost amused by his level of discomfort. Almost as if to change the subject he mentioned how warm it was that day. "Yeah, tell me about it. I've been working without a shirt most of the morning already, and it's not even 11:00. Don't you ever wish you could work with your shirt off Father?" I asked him, and he just laughed. "Something tells me that saying 7:00 a.m. Mass in a pair of Speedos won't ever happen" he joked, and I took the joke away by saying that I'll bet he'd look damned good in a pair of Speedos....the smaller the better. I stepped over toward him slowly and deliberately, knowing that once I reached his side there would be no turning back for either of us. We kissed one another long and hard, our mouths wide open and our tongues probing deep inside each other's mouth. "Let's go upstairs and do it in Cruella's bed!" I said, pulling Tony's shirt up over his head as I said it. "Oh Jesus, I figured you'd be pretty hairy, but this is incredible!" I told him. Within a matter of moments we'd pulled every stitch of each other's clothing off and had strewn it all over the stairs leading to the second floor. As I'd suggested we ended up in Sr. Carmella's room where we took turns fucking one another. I'm sure Tony had no idea of the time or he'd have insisted that we stop as the end of the school day approached. Guys as hairy as Tony Cannata (priest or not) have always been a turn-on for me and I just couldn't stop doing it with him. Hour after glorious hour and fuck after satisfying fuck went on that day and we'd probably still be doing it if Carmella herself hadn't walked in on us. Her bed was a mess....wet with sweat and puddles of cum from both of us. Plus Tony Cannata shed more hair during the act of fucking than most humans even have. The contrast between the white sheets and the coarsely dark body hair from the young priest was truly noticeable. Well okay, neither one of us is at St. Dominic's anymore. Tony has left the priesthood and I've gone back to hustling for whatever money I can get. Now when I come home to him, I don't tell him my confession. No, to the contrary, we do things that I'll probably have to tell to the next priest I have to pacify before getting another job.