That Priest Photo

Hi everybody, I'm Keith.

First I want to thank Marc again for accepting me into the group.

In this group's photo section there's a pic of a priest standing with a naked guy with musical notes painted across him. It instantly reminded me of when I had a lover who was a real Roman Catholic priest, way back in the '80's. I thought this group would be a good place to tell a true story. My story doesn't have a traditional climax that has us swinging from a chandelier with lit firecrackers up our asses, but I just hope the readers can use their imaginations as to how deeply horny it actually was for both of us, and also see the lesson I learned as well.

I was living in the San Francisco Bay area, and frequented the baths and jack-off clubs...I practically lived in them :-) At one gay & naked jack-off club I freaked with a really nice, soft-spoken older guy. He even sort-of resembled the priest in the photo, but with a mustache and beginning to go nicely salt-n-pepper everywhere. After we spent a long time jacking and talking afterwards, he eventually revealed to me that he was a RC priest. I guess he thought I'd be shocked, but I wasn't, and he was relieved. I couldn't have cared less, because I already knew there were lots of closeted gay men-of-the-cloth everywhere. Though I wasn't Catholic, I was allowed to attend a high school run by Franciscan Friars, so I knew. I invited him to my place when we done with the club. While getting to know each other, he also told me that he was in the process of becoming ex-communicated from the church (for something I can't remember at the moment), so that's why he was "boldly" going to sex clubs and such.

At my place, we instantly got naked and freaked some more, doing a little of everything except fuck. Again, he was soft-spoken & a bit shy, him being a sex-starved priest and all. Even though he had been to the jack-off club many times before we met there, he was still in the stage of having hands that trembled from the anticipation, uncertainty, and steel-dicked lust of it all. So we did a lot of everything that I thought wouldn't completely scare him away (I was young, but knew what to do with a man much, much more than he did, and he knew it.)
We ended up frotting furiously, total-body and grinding cock-to-cock, dickroot-to-dickroot, and kissing hungrily. He eventually got on top of me to grind his cock onto mine. He was done with me "teaching" him things and simply let his pelvis go into a fast, instinctive "auto-hump", like a rabbit.

And when he finally shot, it was something that should have been caught on film. His orgasm was so intense, he damn near screamed like a woman. And kept screaming with every contraction, hump and spurt. He even screamed while his mouth was still loosely docked onto mine while we kissed. I remember feeling panicked, thinking the neighbors would hear & call the cops :-). All those years of him being sexually repressed in the church, came bursting out of him in long jizz-jets that made his face twist up like he was being torn in two. It was such a wild & loud few moments, I forgot all about my own orgasm and just helped him recover, like the way "Rose" helped her shuddering "Jack" in Titanic after he shot into her.

Anyway, we became lovers afterward, but it only lasted maybe a year. Still, I've always kept that man in my fond memories of San Francisco. He taught me well, while I was still relatively young and impressionable, about what churches will do a man's passions. Christian churches, the Catholic ones anyway, will tightly bottle the natural passions up in a man until they explode out of him,... like popping open a champagne bottle that was first shaken really hard on purpose, everyday, for decades.

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