Religion

I promise, I'm not going to take sides.  I honestly don't care.  Do what works for you.  I think a lot of people don't do what works for them, and more people (although the Venn Diagram here overlaps) don't understand that "what works for you" necessarily includes your relationships with your fellow humans.  But I'm not going to talk about that, or tell you you're wrong.

Peter Princip, via email, was kind enough to ask me two questions, both related to religion.  So here goes.

"The question is this, is there any religion in your history?  Just to make it fun (in case the answer is "not really") any stories about fucking religious people?"

First thing's first: my family isn't terribly religious.  My mother's parents were, which was part of the whole thing there, so she turned her back on religion completely (again, the whole, "what works for you" but doesn't work for your children because it makes you be an utter cock-monster to them thing).  My father grew up in a part of the world where you went to church on Sunday or everyone thought you were the devil.  But he became much more crunchy granola about it pretty quickly.

So no, we weren't religious growing up.  That said, my parents were of the opinion that, if you live in the world, it's a good idea to know some of the shared mythology, so I know Bible stories (particularly the salacious ones; Lot and his daughters was my favorite growing up for some reason) but I also know stuff about Islam and Hinduism and Buddhism and Judaism.  We had good friends growing up who were various religions, and I've been to Passover and meditated and all kinds of fun stuff.

Basically, I'm all about the fun stuff.  I even think the Mass in Latin is fun stuff.  I've always wanted to go to a Russian Orthodox service still done in Old High Slavonic.  And my family is a little spiritual.  We hold hands before meals sometimes, and if my uncle and aunt are visiting we do a blessing, or if someone else is eating with us we do what they want to do.  We're pretty chill.

But I also went to Catholic school for years.  So I was steeped in the traditions, such as they are, of post-Vatican-II Catholicism, which I find more sad than anything else because it's so meh.  I don't particularly like Catholicism, but at least they were, at a certain point, kind of dogmatic about things.  But American Catholicism these days is just kind of blah.  No real passion there.  I'd much rather go to a Baptist revival (and have) because the music is better.  I'm not at all being racist here: the black congregation in our town was just a better congregation, as far as being a visitor was concerned.  Very friendly, very loving, very musical, and totally bigoted and horrible when it came to beliefs.  Mormons are great people too, except again, I can't at all get behind their religious beliefs.

That's my religious background.

Now the second, more fun, part of the questions.

Have I ever had fun with religious folks?  Sure.  Most of the time it doesn't come up, so I don't have a tally.  Mostly Christians, if I had to venture a guess.  Let me assure you, religion is no barrier to wanting to fuck me.  I've been with "happily" married evangelicals, I was with a Mormon couple on several occasions (they were really terrible in the sack to start, but very nice people), and I think at least one Muslim, Buddhist, and Hindu, although the Buddhist was more of a philosophical Buddhist, so it wasn't like I was fucking a Thai Buddhist monk or anything.  A few fairly radical atheists, but they kept that out of the bedroom.

But I imagine what you'd actually like to hear about is men of the cloth, of various persuasions.  And being ordained by the Universal Life Church on the Internet doesn't count.  I pretty much have one story there.

When I was in high school, we had to take religion class.  It was a Catholic school, after all.  And that was mostly just catechism.  But we'd have seminarians come in to be guest teachers sometimes.  Seminarians, for those of you who don't know, are priests in training at the seminary.

There was one seminarian, let's call him Henry, who was just dreamy.  I know I'm not the only girl in the class (and maybe there were guys too, but they kept very quiet about it for understandable reasons) who thought he was hot.  He was young, dusty blond, looked like he might be built under his priest uniform (they don't wear cassocks any more, unfortunately, or I would have had all kinds of fantasies about crawling up under there and... well, anyway, I would have had more of them), and good looking in the parts I could see.

Let me insert here that I felt it my sacred duty as a heathen to make life miserable for my religion teachers.  I once argued with a seminarian (not Henry) for most of class that there was no such thing as eternal truth, just because I got him going about it.  I was just being a dick about it.  He said that universal truth was like gravity, so I had him picking up a pencil and dropping it over and over again to continue to prove gravity would make it fall, until I finally said, "If you can keep doing that every instant of time from now until the end of time, then I'll believe gravity is a universal truth."  And I don't even believe that.  But I was screwing with him.  Not proud of it, not sorry for it either.  I was young and stuck in religion class.

Anyway, I decided that the best way to screw with Henry's fragile pre-priesthood was to flirt with him as much as possible.  If he had been Indiana Jones, I would have written things on my eyelids.  Basically, I just eye-fucked him every chance I got, licked my lips, hiked my skirt, that kind of thing.

Let me also insert here that I've since hung out with very cool seminarians, come to really appreciate what they believe and so forth, and let me tell you, many, many priests are not pure as the driven snow.  They can drink me under the table, tell the dirtiest jokes, and frequently have led extremely interesting lives before coming to their calling, and they still believe hard and want to be priests and are good people.

But Henry was pure.  He was young, just out of college, and he had no idea what to do with me.  He tried ignoring me, he tried teaching me, he tried everything he could think of.  Had he come to me after class and invited me into the closet, I might have jumped his bones, or maybe I would have been a good person.  But it was definitely screwing with his lizard brain.  I'm not saying I was catching him with wood in his black priest slacks, but he was definitely flustered.

And then one day, he stopped being our sub.  Nothing was said.  It wasn't remarkable; seminarians came and went, some graduated, some went to other schools, some left.  I figured he'd probably just gone to another school or something, but I liked to think that I'd driven him screaming from our class with my feminine wiles.  What can I say?  I was young and stupid.

Then, several years later, I ran into him in his civvies in the grocery store, and he came up to me and said, "Hey Lexi, you probably don't remember me, but it's Henry, the seminarian."  Or rather ex-seminarian.  Because he'd left the priesthood.  And being older and, if not wiser, at least less of a dick, I felt really guilty about that when he said I was responsible.  But he said I shouldn't feel guilty.

He said he'd left our class because he couldn't deal with his feelings about me.  Not love or anything, but he realized he was definitely attracted to me.  So he tried confessing that, like you do if you're Catholic, but eventually he realized that he'd also felt the same way about other women, and likely would again, and that God didn't want him to be a priest.  So I'm a messenger from God?  No, not really.  He just realized that his calling wasn't celibacy.  He also realized that it was kind of silly for him, a virgin who had never really experienced much of anything in life, to give something up when he didn't really know what he was giving up.  So he told his superiors, and to their credit (this is, in fact, how it's supposed to work; you're not supposed to become a priest if you don't feel called to it) they said, "Go with God and do what God wants you to do with your life."

And then he had sex, and it was great, and he realized that yeah, he wasn't going to give that up.  Nor was he interested in getting married to do it.  He stayed Catholic (why, I'm not sure; premarital sex is a pretty big no-no) but he got a job helping people (I won't say what, but it was legit) which is why he'd wanted to go into the priesthood in the first place.

Blah blah blah, all of that isn't why you're here.  We talked for what seemed like forever about it, then he said he'd like to keep talking but maybe the dairy aisle of the grocery store wasn't the place, so we went and got dinner and he told me the rest, and we talked about it, and then it segued into him telling me I was still so gorgeous and he had thought about me often and I said, "Well, there's nothing stopping us now," and we got the check and went back to his apartment.

And he was nicely put together under his clothes, as I had suspected.  He liked when I told him how I thought about him in class.  He laughed when I said I wished he'd worn a cassock.  So much foreplay.  It was great.  He had clearly gotten experience on his journey, because he made me cum so hard on his fingers and tongue.  And when I moaned, "Oh Father Henry," he, to his credit, was totally okay with that.  And we started talking dirty Catholic.

"Bless me Father, for I am going to sin all over you."

"My child, sin again, sin again."

And at that point I still remembered a lot more Catholic than I do now.  I don't want you to think this was serious; we were giggling the entire time.  He laughed out loud when I started saying the Hail Mary as I slipped his cock into me.  We gave it up after that and just concentrated on sex.  When I told him to cum inside me, that I was on the pill, he mockingly waggled his finger at me and said something about Mother Church saying it was a sin, but he totally came inside me anyway.

The nice thing about it was that he didn't just roll off and lie back.  He couldn't get enough of me.  He had his hands all over me and his tongue and lips on my nipples, and he got hard again in a hurry.  Before he pressed in for the second time, he looked down at me and said, "God, I wish we'd done this after class."

"Yeah, me too.  You were the sexiest seminarian ever."

I didn't cum before he finished inside me again, but he pulled out when he was done and then kept working on me until I did.  Then we were finally finished.  Overall, he would have been wasted on the priesthood.

I think he was interested in something more serious, but I wasn't, so we left it at that.  I still see him on Facebook, and he's still doing God's work in the way I'm pretty sure God wants.  So in the balance, I'm happy how it worked out.  I imagine he's made plenty of women very happy.

Other than that, I've never really fucked an actual man of the cloth.  I totally would though.  Sexy times.  But hopefully that was a fun enough story to excuse my lack of experience in this department.  I've had sex in churches, just never with the priest.

Anyway, thanks for the questions Peter, and everyone, keep them coming because I'm happy to answer them.  If I teased anything you'd like to hear more about, let me know.