Helping Father Conelly

Hello, my name is Stephanie. I’m 47 years old. I am an average suburban wife who has two college-going daughters, and a husband who loves me very much. I live a pretty average life you could say, not much excitement these days. While I am no model, I’d like to think I am pretty attractive for my age. I stand at 5’6″, with brunette hair and sea green eyes. Courtesy of my frequent gymming, I had been able to maintain a trim waist, a thick butt, and a set of C cups that hadn’t begun to sag. I often caught men, some of them married, staring at me wherever I went. It felt nice to be still getting attention.

What follows is something that happened about 3 or 4 months ago. To be honest, I’m not sure if I should be telling anybody about this, but I just have to let it out nonetheless.

I have been raised in a Catholic household and so has my husband. We attend mass every Sunday, and I help the church with its various activities as well. Father Conelly has been the priest for more than 25 years. Unlike other priests, he is a polite and charismatic man who is very serious about the church and is loved by everyone.

This Sunday, however, was different. For the first time since I can remember, Father Conelly was not officiating. After the mass, I asked my friend Claire, who also did church service, about it. She told me that Father had some health issues and was resting, but it wasn’t anything serious or to worry about much.

I went back to my husband, who was waiting for me at the entrance, and told him about it. “I’m not entirely surprised,” he said. “Father Conelly is getting older, maybe all this work is becoming too much for him, he is 61 years old.

He was probably right. I hoped for Father’s speedy recovery.

The next Tuesday, around 3:30 in the afternoon, I heard the doorbell. I went to the door and was caught by surprise. “Father Conelly? What a surprise! What can I do for you?” I asked. “Stephanie dear, it’s good to see you. I was hoping we could talk. There is an issue I would like to discuss with you”. This was truly a big surprise. Even though Father knew who I was, he wasn’t known to pay people visits. “Come on in, Father. We can talk in the living room”. He asked if my husband was home, which he wasn’t. And he won’t, not until 7.

As Father Conelly sat, he seemed a little nervous and edgy. He took a while before finally beginning to talk, “Stephanie dear, I request you to please keep this conversation to yourself. This is a very private matter.” That immediately caught my attention. “Whatever it is, Father, I am a tomb,” I said, calmingly. “Thanks, dear. As you probably heard, I went to the doctor last week.”

I replied, “Yes, Claire told me on Sunday.”

“I’ve been having trouble with my plumbing, so to speak” he chuckled awkwardly. “Sorry, Stephanie. This is….a little embarrassing.”

“Father, please don’t be ashamed. If I can help, I will, I promise. Also, it’s just us here, so don’t worry about anything.” I said, trying to ease him up.

“Thank you, I…I went to the doctor on Friday, a urologist, and he ran a couple of tests. You know blood, urine, the usual stuff. Afterwards, he checked my prostate and said it was pretty enlarged, and that it was the root of my…you know…plumbing issues.” He continued, “I was very concerned. From what I had heard, prostate enlargement can lead to cancer, and I asked the doctor about it. He said that this was treatable and that I had nothing to worry about for now.”

He took a pause, looked at me, and said, “That’s actually why I came to see you. The doctor gave me some pills, but he also suggested that I should…..” I noticed that he looked worried, as if wondering if he should keep talking. I reassured, “Father please, it’s okay. Nothing leaves this room.”

He took a deep breath to calm his nerves and said, “The doctor suggested I should have a prostate massage to ease the pressure, he said that the pills were mostly to treat a mild infection I had but they couldn´t really do anything for my….enlarged prostate, it had to be a different treatment.”

It shocked me to hear these words come out of his mouth. I obviously knew about a prostate massage. As a matter of fact, I had been trying to convince my husband to let me give him one, but of course that would hurt that male pride of his, so he said no.

It suddenly clicked why he had come to see me. I am a licensed massage therapist, though most of my clients till now were housewives. I did the course after my husband got promoted and my younger daughter left for college, mainly as a way to not get bored of chores. Besides, it was a little extra money too.

Father Connely looked at me sheepishly and said, “I heard from the other ladies that you were a massage therapist and wondered if maybe you’d know of someone who could help me with this….erm, problem of mine.”

I was taken by surprise. For a moment, I thought he was going to ask me do it.

“Honestly, Father, I don’t really know of any….”therapist” who helps with something like this. The courses I took were online, and I never met or came to know anyone else,” I said.

“That’s a shame. The doctor said that the medicine is just a temporary solution. Nothing much is really going to change until the root cause is relieved,” he said. I enquired, “Is there a history of prostate cancer in your family, Father?”

“The doctor asked me the same. As far I know, no, not really. He suggested that it could be due to my celibacy.” When he said that, my pussy twitched a little. I started thinking of all the years that he spent without a proper orgasm. It made sense. He was basically SUPER pent up. I was a church-going woman, but at that moment, just the thought of making a pent-up priest cum made my pussy clench. I just had to help him get his much-needed release. Wait, what? I jerked myself back to senses. “That’s a little odd. Does that mean every priest has this problem?”

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one with this doubt. When he had asked the doctor, he said some studies had shown that it basically came down to the individual body.

“That being said, there could possibly be prostate related issues in my family, that I know nothing about”.

I just looked at him for a few seconds. I had already made up my mind. “Father, I really don’t think you are gonna find this specific therapy in this town. Also, as a priest, I don’t think this is the kind of thing you should be asking around. So, if you want, I could…you know…help you with your problem.”

“Oh Lord! I don’t think that is a good idea, Stephanie. I don’t think that would be right. You are a married woman, and…”

“My husband is not here in the afternoons,” I cut him off. “He wouldn’t know, Father. You did say this was a private issue, right? Plus I would just be helping you with your problem. We won’t be doing anything wrong, I’m a licensed therapist after all. Let me help you,” I said, touching his forearm reassuringly.

“I’m very concerned, Stephanie. If this actually happens, nobody can know. I know it is a medical issue, you know it too, but some people might not see it that way.”

“Of course, Father. This is just between the two of us, please don’t worry about anything.” I reassured him. While I did want him to blow his load all over my massage table, I wanted to help him too.

“Thank you so much, dear. You don’t know how much this means to me. The weight you took off my shoulders!” he said, much more relaxed.

“Of course, Father. I told you I was gonna help in any way I could,” I said. “We can start tomorrow.”

“Oh, tomorrow? I don’t….are you sure?” he asked. “Yes, tomorrow is perfect. Don’t worry. You won’t be interrupting or disturbing me in any way.”

I was already getting excited about what was going to happen. I don’t think I could even sleep tonight. “At what time then?” he asked. “I was thinking around 2:30, if that’s alright with you,” I replied. “Yes, that sounds good,” he said.

“Perfect! Now, Father, we just need to get a few things straight. Firstly, take a nice thorough shower before you come, okay? And secondly, you know you are gonna be fully naked, right?” I asked him. “I am telling you these things so that there are no awkward surprises tomorrow.”

“Yes, I figured about the shower. I was even thinking about getting an enema. And yes, I guess I have to be, you know, naked. I understand,” he said in a low voice.

“Great, we are all set then. Do you have any other questions?” I asked.

“Have you ever done this before? You know, this therapy?” he asked, almost whispering now.

“Honestly, I’ve only read about it. But it should be like any other massage. Please don’t worry about anything, Father. I’ll make sure to make your experience….enjoyable”. As I said that, I realised how double meaning it must’ve sounded. Anyway, I wasn’t going to tell him about me trying to convince my husband about getting one himself, or about all those videos and stories I’d seen about prostate massages.

He seemed to be in deep thought. “Any other questions, Father?” I asked.

“No, not really. I just can’t believe this is actually going to happen. But thanks again, Stephanie. Bless you,” he said.

“Don’t even mention it, Father,” I walked him to the door.

When I shut the door and came back inside, I felt dazed, wondering if this conversation really happened. Then it hit me. One of the most taboo things I could possibly think of was going to happen to me tomorrow.

I thought of getting everything immediately ready, but then I stopped. I would do that tomorrow, after my husband leaves, so that he doesn’t see the table, the oil, or any other stuff. So I just went down to the laundry room to fold some clothes and tried to distract myself from what had happened so far.

The next morning, I woke up early; I barely slept anyway. I made my husband breakfast, we ate and talked a little as we do every day. Then he looked at his watch, gave me a kiss, and got up to leave. As he was about leave, he informed me he would be late, probably around 8, because of some month-end reports they had to turn in. I told him it was alright and that I would order some food instead of cooking. He said he was okay with that and left.

This couldn’t be more perfect. I started getting everything ready.

Around 2:20 PM, I was pacing around the house, waiting for Father Connelly to arrive. After a few impatient minutes, the doorbell rang. I held my breath for a moment, counted to 10 to not come off as desperate, and then went outside to greet father conelly.

“Hi Father, please come on in,” I said.

“Hi dear. Yes, thank you. Excuse me.”

As he went inside, my mind started to picture how the always polite and sweet Father Conelly was gonna blow his load all over my living room, and how only I would know about it. I was about to milk a man who had been celibate for more than 30 years, and who also happenned to be a priest. My pussy started to get wet, fortunately I was wearing black yoga pants.

“Ok, so here we go,” I walked him.

“Right here, Stephanie? In your living room?” he asked, concerned.

“Yes Father, right here. This is the largest room. Every door is locked, every window shut and every curtain drawn. Nobody can see us from outside, it’s just us now,” I said.

“I see. I am a little nervous,” he said, tense.

“I completely understand. Just try to relax, okay?,” I tried to be reassuring.

“Here’s your towel. Undress and lay face down on this table, then put it on top of yourself. Call me when you’re ready.”

I walked out of the living room to give him some privacy.

“Yes, thank you,” he replied.

As I receded, I could feel my heart beat right up to my ear.

It suddenly came to me. I could catch his load in a beaker instead of wasting it over the towel. I could maybe even taste it later. My mouth completely watered at the thought. I just HAVE to do it. I had stopped caring at that point.

“Stephanie, I’m ready,” Father called. I took one last deep breath and went in. There he was, face down, completely naked with only a towel covering his mid portion.

Ok Stephanie, this is it. Calm down and breathe. Do not screw this up.

“Okay, Father. I was thinking we start with a back massage so you can relax. Time is not an issue, we have all afternoon,” I told him. “Sure, a back massage sounds great. I don’t think I’ve ever had one before anyway,” he said. “There’s always a first time, they say, Father,” I smiled. “I’m gonna apply some oil now, it’ll be a little warm,” I said as I picked up the bottle.

As I started to rub him, my eyes started to wonder what lay inside of the towel. I was tempted to take a peek but I stopped myself. I desperately wanted to look, but I didn’t want to spoil my surprise. Gotta look professional too, I thought.

After around 15 minutes of rubbing his back, I announced, “I think it’s time, Father”.

“Oh, okay dear. It’s your call,” he said, the nervousness in his tone quite clear.

“First I’m gonna put this pillow under your stomach to lift your buttocks a little. Maybe you can help me with that?” He complied and I placed it where I wanted.

“There we go. Is it comfortable for you?” I asked him.

“Yes,” he replied.

“Okay Father, now I am going to put away the towel.” He replied with a meek yes. My hands were trembling. When I finally took it off, I just stopped breathing for a while. The first thing that caught my eye was his pink puckered asshole, and, extremely spankable butt. Oh it was definitely going to be tight.

Then I shifted my gaze to his cock. It was so nice. He wasn’t erect, but it looked a good five inches, crammed between his separated legs. It had a thick girth, and was paired with a set of loaded balls that strained his loose sack.

Oh my, Father Conelly, what a nice cock you have! If only the girls at the church knew, I thought, nice and thick just for me. Those balls look swollen too. I was going wild already.

“Ok, Father, I’ll apply some oil now. Keep breathing and try to get used to the feeling,” I said.

As I grabbed the bottle, I pulled out my cell phone, put it on silent mode, and took 3 pictures of what I had in front of me, you know, for my own fun later. Yes, I’d have to make every arrangement to make sure nobody ever found these.

I drizzled oil over his ass, then his balls, and finally his shaft. He let out a big sigh. I started with groping his upper thighs, and then moved up to his butt, massaging and lightly scratching it. As my palm doughed his flesh, I could see his cock started to grow. It looked so erotic. I moved my fingers down to his perineum, to stimulate him more, gently massaging it. As I did that, he jumped, surprised by the sudden feeling. “Oh, sorry. That caught me off guard,” he apologized.

How cute! Don’t worry Father you’re gonna paint my fucking living room white in a few minutes. “It’s okay. Relax yourself, Father. Try enjoying it, you need this,” I said, emphasizing on the last part. I carried on massaging his perineum and balls. To be honest, I was not supposed to touch his balls, but they looked so nice, begging to be cupped and rolled. They looked like eggs suspended in his loose sac, and heavy too. If only the women of my church group knew what I was doing!

I then moved to massaging the entrance of his asshole, teasing it a little.

“Relax for me, Father,” I said, and as he did so, I slid my finger past his puckered asshole. “Ughh” he groaned. It felt so tight. I slowly started probing, looking for his prostate. As I was doing that, I sneaked up the beaker under the head of his cock to catch my dessert.

“From what I’ve read, Father, you will feel the urge to urinate. That’s completely normal, okay?” I told him.

He just muttered a weak “aha”.

As I finally located his prostate, started slowly massaging it, small and delicate counterclockwise circles. “Oh dear Lord,” he moaned.

I could guess he would fight the urge to cum, so I went on, “Father, the whole point of this massage is to release your pent up pressure. When the time comes, and you feel like you’re about to cu…I mean ejaculate, just let it happen. Don’t fight it, okay?” I firmly told him.

“Whatever you say, dear” he answered, now out of breath.

I saw a long string of precum flowing into the beaker already. Good! That’s exactly what I want. I cupped his balls as I massaged his prostate. It did feel larger than usual. I mean, I am no doctor, but instead of the usual walnut-size, his prostate was at least the size of a golf ball. Oh, you have so much cum for me, Father Conelly.

By now, his cock was at full mast, nice and hard, at least eight inches. That’s so much bigger than my husband’s, I licked my lips, just thinking about wrapping my warm mouth around his shaft.

I could feel my thong getting wet, and my nipples getting harder.

I wanted to wrap my hand around it and stroke him, to be the first woman to do this to him, but I composed myself. Maybe in a future session. That was inevitable. I was now massaging his prostate with full pressure, pushing and caressing it.

It was getting harder, and Father was breathing heavily. Good! Don’t fight it, Father Connely. You can’t win. You will give me all your holy load.

He was now gripping the table desperately, I could see a thin layer of sweat on his back, and his toes curling. I was starting to sewat a little bit as well.

That’s when I heard him utter, “Ste- Stephanie…dear…I…I’m..” I was greeted by a puddle of clear precum in the beaker below.

My mouth started to water.

“Mhm, what is it, Father?” I asked coyly, knowing exactly what was about to come.

“May…maybe you could…stop…oh god” he said out of breath.

“I´m sorry father but we can´t at this point”. There was no way I was stopping, I could see his balls getting tighter. I knew it was about to happen.

“Please…stephanie…oh.. I- I think I’m gonna…. ejaculate,” he said, in a very strained voice. “It’s okay, just let it happen, Father. You need this.” I need this too.

He was panting hard, knuckles white from gripping the table, he was fighting it, but he had already lost.

His prostate was rock hard, his asshole clenched tightly around my finger, and he panted uncontrollably, “Oh-Oh dear…Oh dear Lord… Forgive me.” The first shot hit the beaker at its floor. “Uuuuggghh,” he growled, as his balls contracted. It was such a thick rope, followed by a second, and then a third. I made a ring with my index finger and thumb and ‘milked’ his cock. This was apparently too much for him, and he lost it, “Fuck yes, just like that. Don’t fucking stop stephanie, uuggghhhh, I fucking need this,” he yelled.

“Just tell me when to stop, Father,” I said, trying to sound composed, as if I just hadn’t witness the most erotic thing ever. I looked down. The beaker was almost half full, he might have shot 6 to 7 seven of those nice loads.

“Ugghh…fuck…” he grunted, he was drench in sweat, panting as if he just ran a marathon. He was thoroughly milked now.

After around half a minute of convulsing and animal-like growling, he exhaustingly said, “Stephanie, I… I think I’m done.”

I pulled my finger out, and slowly cupped his balls, squeezing his shaft one last time. I briskly hid the beaker under the table.

“Take a few minutes to relax, Father. I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t answer. I walked into the kitchen, pulled my pants down and started masturbating. It felt so good! My thong was completely soaked. “God, that was so sexy! Fuck me with that big dick, Father. Fuck my married cunt hard,” I moaned as I fingered myslef like a possesed woman. “Let me take your sacred virginity.” I’m definitely going to hell.

“Stephanie?” I heard from the living room. He couldn’t me better timed. I rubbed my clit as fast as I could. Oh I am so bad. I held my tone firm, and yelled back as my body spasmed, “Coming, Father Connely!” And cum I did. FUCK. This was so dirty, I can’t believe I just did that, I came all over my kitchen floor. Oh I am such a slut! I didn’t even know if I was ashamed or proud of myself. It just felt intense, then everything subsided.