It Gets Worse

The days leading up to the weekend progressed and Father Mathew's suffering got worse instead of better. Not a night went by without his body demanding attention and relief. At first he tried to ignore it, but then he gave in to the desire because the problem would not go away on its own. Shame and guilt grew in him, because each time the image of the young, innocent Erika stood clearly before his eyes. And not only that. The visions haunted him more and more frequently, not only at night but also in broad daylight. When he closed his eyes, he saw her before him, fresh and cheerful. Sometimes he even thought he saw her out of the corner of his eye as he went about his daily tasks. Then he would turn to the supposed visitor, only to realize in confusion that he had succumbed to a delusion.

He was actually glad that the object of his obsession did not appear in person. He wouldn't have known how to face her without revealing what unruly ideas he had about her - however involuntarily they came over him.

Then there was Friday. On this day, Father Mathew regularly offered confession, as this day of the week commemorated the Passion of Christ and was considered a day of penance and reflection. Many devout members of his parish took this opportunity to prepare themselves spiritually for the weekend and to go to Sunday mass with a clear conscience. This week, the priest sat in the confessional and listened to the quiet footsteps of the faithful as they entered the church one by one and took their places in the pews to pray silently until it was their turn. The scent of incense hung faintly in the air. The subdued light of the late afternoon sun shimmering through the stained glass windows created an atmosphere of devotion and contemplation.

Father Mathew felt the floor of the wooden confessional move slightly as someone entered and knelt behind the wickerwork window. He lifted his chin and gazed into space as he heard the confession. A familiar voice began to speak, or rather to whisper excitedly. It was the widow Berger, who regularly came to confess her real or supposed sins to God. Father Mathew listened patiently, spoke words of encouragement and gave absolution.

As soon as the widow had left, he heard the next footsteps - this time slower, almost hesitant, as if someone was carrying a heavy guilt and struggling whether to reveal it. The door of the confession booth opened quietly and he saw the shadow of a younger person. The voice that began to speak was not unfamiliar to him.

“In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen. Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been a week since I last confessed.”

As always, Erika sounded quiet and shy, as if she didn't dare speak her thoughts out loud. But now her tone was also shaky, almost brittle, and it seemed as if the young woman was wrestling with herself. Then she fell silent.

Father Mathew leaned forward and said gently but insistently. “Speak freely, my child. You are safe here. Only God hears you.”

The silence lasted a moment longer. Then the confession began. But there was something unfamiliar in Erika's voice, an underlying urgency, an unheard-of sin that hovered over her words like a black cloud. Father Mathew couldn't say what it was that was weighing on her so much, but it made his heart beat faster - he had a premonition that this confession would be different from any he had heard before. At the same time, he felt an unpleasant tugging in his loins.

Erika fumbled around a few more times until she came out with what was bothering her so much.

“Father, I'm troubled by unchaste thoughts.”

Mathew held his breath. He had heard these words many times before, they were not unusual in a confessional. But something in Erika's tone made him sit up and take notice - a strange mixture of shame and hope and something else he couldn't quite interpret. And at the same time, he thought that a mirror was being held up to him, that it should actually be him who was confessing this sin and asking for forgiveness. With an inappropriate twitch, his cock came to life. He cleared his throat quietly to cover up the sudden tension and embarrassment that threatened to **** him.

“Unchaste thoughts are a challenge that plagues many people,” he said in a **** firm voice. “But our Lord is merciful and understands the weakness of the human heart. Would you like to tell me what is troubling you, my child?”

There was another pause, which lasted longer than Mathew had expected. He listened breathlessly and full of expectation as Erika took a deep breath, as if gathering all her courage to continue.

“It... It's about someone I know. Someone who... I'm close to.” Her voice quivered, and Mathew couldn't decide if it was fear or something else that made her words so labored. “I have thoughts that are not pure. Thoughts I shouldn't be having.”

Mathew closed his eyes for a moment. It was his spiritual duty to remain neutral, to guide the confessors without judging. But Erika's words gave him a strange feeling, an inkling that her confession might not only affect her, but also him. And to his utter displeasure, he felt the thing in his pants begin to rise up.

“It's good that you're bringing your thoughts to God here,” he said more calmly than he actually was. “No one is free from temptation. The important thing is that you recognize them and resist them. Who is the person you are talking about?”

The silence that followed lasted even longer than before and was almost palpable. Mathew could hear Erika swallowing hard and sniffling. Apparently she was on the verge of tears. Finally, she replied, barely audible: “It's... someone who should help me. Someone who was supposed to show me the way to God.”

An icy shiver ran down Mathew's spine. Was that a reference to him? Or was it just a coincidence, an unfounded fear that he was imagining because he had been plagued by similar visions and doubts for days? He **** himself to remain calm, even though his heart was pounding so hard in his chest that it was almost bursting through his ribs.

“God understands your inner struggle,” he pressed out. “And I am here to help you shed the burden. Do you regret these thoughts, my child?”

“Yes... I regret them. But... sometimes I don't know if I really want to be free of them.”

These words hit Mathew like a blow. He had never been so upset by a confession. And never before had he had an erection that was so big, hard and almost painful that he could barely stand it.