“Bless me, father, for I have sinned! It’s been three days since my last confession.” Upon hearing these familiar words, uttered by an even more familiar voice, Father Wallace couldn’t help feeling a rush go through his body, from his handsome, leonine head to his toes and, then, to the very tip of the one part of his body that should be the last thing on any priest’s mind and, of course, it never is.
The voice belonged to Mary Sarah, the 19 year old novice who had arrived at the convent just a few weeks before. Father Wallace knew little about her past, but what he did know, from the first time he lay his eyes on her, was that he wanted — no, not wanted, needed to get her out of her nun-in-training overalls and onto his perpetually restless cock.
Because Father Wallace, though a believer — not necessarily in God, he was too smart for that, but in the power of good — was also human, and one who’s sexual urges surpassed the level society considers “the accepted normal”. In a nutshell, he was an utter lecher and a consummate pervert. Also, atypically, maybe, for a Catolic priest, he loved the opposite sex and, as he was an attractive man — almost middle-aged but not looking it, tall, fit and tanned — he had no difficulty in finding women to assuage his indelible urges.