Content warning: this story mixes religious and erotic aspects. Please don’t read on if this can offend you.
Ever since she had overheard them in church, Harmony looked at him differently.
It was her grandmother who had reprimanded the three young woman into silence, but not soon enough. Harmony had already heard those words.
“I don’t hear a word he says. All I can focus on is his face. Those eyes. His lips…”
He always was… well… a priest. Only a priest. She had never thought of him to be a man. No, he was a priest. Just a priest.
Those words had changed everything for her.
That day, when everyone else filed out of the church, she hid on the gallery, which gave her a perfect view of the church. She saw Hope — at that moment she had no idea what the woman’s name was — still siting in the pew, and later disappear into the confession booth. Hope acted strange, and instinctively Harmony knew: her presence in the booth had nothing to do with faith.
It was only later that Harmony learned the other women’s names, and understood Hope’s action on that Sunday might had everything to do with Faith.
Harmony was still on the gallery when Hope emerged from the booth, flustered and embarrassed, the buttons on her dress all messed up. The priest stood there, watching the three women rush out of the church.
As she gazed down on him, her eyes transformed each of the lines of his face from priest to man. A beautiful man. Indeed, those eyes, his lips…
That night, his face was in her thoughts; her hand in her panties.
Some weeks later, Harmony found herself next to the priest, selling cookies at the community center’s bake sale. One Sunday after the service, she had noticed the three women sign up to help. She had boldly put her name down too, and learned their names — Faith, Hope and Charity. Today she just happened to stand right next to him. The priest.
At the table next to theirs, those same three young women sold sweets. They unequally divided their attention between the buyers and watching the priest. And Harmony.
She stayed close to him, and regularly bumped into him. By accident of course. His hip. His shoulder. Their hands. Each time her body touched his, a bolt of lighting ran through her body.
His hand rests on the back of her neck. He looks deep into her eyes, then pulls her closer to him. Keeping eye contact, he lowers his mouth onto hers, and kisses her softly. A tender kissed, filled with lust and promise.
Harmony bit her lip, and shook her head a bit, trying to get rid of the images in her head. She didn’t want to fantasize about him here, right next to him, afraid he might see right into her mind.
Their tongues lightly touched, explored. They breathed into each other’s mouths, their eyes still locked in a passionate embrace. One hand still behind her neck, his other cupped a breast and gently squeezed.
A trickle of wetness escaped between Harmony’s legs. She crossed her legs, and leaned forward, her hands resting on the table. She needed a moment to compose herself.
“Are you okay, Harmony?” the priest ask, lightly resting his hand on her shoulder. Despite the urge to run, she relished in the warmth of his touch; his voice.
“Ye… yes,” she stuttered, “I am. I just… er… needed… er… a moment.”
Her cheeks flushed, she straightened up. She smiled at him, and that’s when she caught the expressions on the faces of the three women at the next table.
Their smiles said they knew. Friendly smiles. Faith winked at her. Harmony’s blush deepened, and then both of them turned to pay attention to their customers again. Harmony almost choked on her words, stretching over the table to return some small change to a man who bought several bags of cookies.
He slowly pushes up her skirt, resting the hem in the small of her back, and pulls down her white panties. His hand connects hard with one cheek, then the next. He continues to spank her until her bottom glows crimson. After too many spanks to count, he gently ran his hand over the painful warmth.
Harmony had to compose herself. She needed to step away from the table, to go to the bathroom and splash some water on her flushed face. She quickly turned around and bumped head-on into the priest. Body to body.
Hugging her close to him, his lean body hard against hers, she’s aware of only one thing. His excitement. His wanton flesh trapped between them. She tilts her head up, and see her desire reflected in his eyes. He wants her as much as she wants him.
She looked up at the priest. What was it she saw in his eyes? It lasted for only a second before she excused herself, mumbling about needing a bathroom break. In the bathroom she held onto one of the basins, leaning into the mirror above. What am I doing? I need to stop fantasizing about him. This is going to get me in trouble. I’m going to say the wrong things. I need to stop!
Faith appeared in the mirror. She opened the tap and splashed cold water on her face. Her eyes met Harmony’s in the mirror.
“I needed a moment,” she said, and Harmony nodded.
“Can’t stop fantasizing either?”
Harmony’s jaw dropped, and Faith didn’t wait for an answer.
“I know. Neither can we.”
“All of you?” Harmony asked, as she now splashed cold water in her own face.
“All of us.”
Four young women sat in the third row pew a few Sundays after the bake sale, their faces turned upward; their eyes fixed on the priest. His lips moved while he delivered a sermon they couldn’t understand one word of. Each of them — Faith, Hope, Charity and their new friend, Harmony — sat there with their own thoughts; their own fantasies.
Frequent sighs escaped them every time the priest’s eyes rested on them. Not even during prayers did they lower their heads, or close their eyes, and once parishioners started leaving the church, they stayed seated.
Not for long though, as they were not alone.
Ever since Hope’s visit to the confession booth, the priest waited until the last of his flock left the church, which always happened to be the foursome.
Note: Inspiration for this story came from May’s comment about Faith having friends, and the prompt ‘Harmony’, who happens to be a kindred spirit with Faith, Hope and Charity.
© Rebel’s Notes
Image from Pixabay