Amun-Ra
05-05-2002, 04:48 PM
She was the woman of my teenage dreams. She had everything a teenage boy could ask for—breasts, a vagina and most of all, a willingness to share. I truly believed that this was the woman of my dreams. Surely, no one else could make me feel the way she made me feel. All I had to do was see her and I was hard and ready for action. I’d get sticky with sweat and my mouth would water each time she was near me. She could reduce me to a ball of haphazard nerves without even trying.
I was at once thrilled and guilt ridden. I was a good Catholic kid. I was an altar boy and I was a member of the Catholic Youth Organization. What I wanted to do and what I learned at the CYO meetings didn’t go together. They were like oil and water.
As a young man, I was awe struck by the golden vestments of the priests, the solemnity of the Mass said in Latin and the piercing eyes of Jesus looking down at me from the cross. I can remember serving mass and feeling those eyes following me as I went about my holy duties. I
knew early on that this Catholicism thing was serious business. We even had a king of the church. They called him the Pope but he was more like a king. It was like he was the king of God’s army. Instead of generals and other officers, the Pope had Cardinals, Bishops, priests and even the lowly altar boy such as me. The Pope was infallible, meaning he didn’t make mistakes because he received his orders directly from God.
Sex was serious business, the Pope said we all had to do it, but only when we got married, and even then, it was only so we could have children. There wasn’t supposed to be anything fun about it. It was a sacred duty but only for married people and even they weren’t supposed to have fun.
Linda Brooks put all of those things on my mind. This was serious business. I was already guilty of having impure thoughts. This may seem insignificant but Father Barry told me most assuredly burn in Hell for even entertaining such lewd and lascivious thoughts. I was busted! It was just as big a sin to think it as to do it. I was doomed to constant sin as Linda Brooks stayed in my mind like a steamy dream. It was tough.
In those days, any sight of a female curve produced an instant erection. My hormone pedal was pushed to the floor and had left my rational mind far behind waiting at the bus stop of the confessional where I spent my Friday afternoons telling of my impure thoughts and lust.
I knew other guys who were facing the same thing but they weren’t going against the Pope and all of his minions. I was already condemned and going to Hell when the answer suddenly hit me. In my mind, I figured it all out in a logical and rational manner. I likened it to killing someone. After they were dead, you couldn’t kill them again. There it was. It was that simple.
Since by just having the impure thoughts I was already condemned to eternal Hell fire and damnation, I couldn’t get anymore condemned by following through on my thoughts. Of course, I had a vague inkling that this was not exactly what the church had in mind but rules were rules and finally I had an answer.
Finally, I could lust after Linda Brooks without the fear of Hell fire and damnation. I was already promised that would be my demise, but I knew that all I had to do was to avoid croaking before I had my way with Linda. It was strange this new found freedom because it had me in a mental prison. I was afraid to go anywhere for fear that of dying before I had a chance to satisfy my lust with Linda Brooks. If I croaked, I would go directly to Hell without passing “GO” or collecting $200. It would be downhill all the way to the fiery furnaces of Hades.
However, if I could just get it done and then make it to confession before I got hit by a car or was struck by lightening all of my sins would be forgiven. I don’t know what the penance was for fornication but I was ready to stay up all night doing penance if I could just have my way with Linda Brooks.
This was dangerous stuff I was contemplating. All I wanted to do was “get some” as we called it between male friends. Every normal guy, excluding geeks, bookworms and sissies, wanted to “get some” and we would do anything short of killing someone to get it. Lying was not considered a big deal if it led to “getting some.” Bending the truth—no problem. Even looking directly into the eyes and telling a bald faced lie was not considered an issue if it meant getting some. Saying I love you would be tough but if it were necessary, it would not stand in the way of getting some.
In other words, when it came to getting some and the testosterone levels were recklessly high everything my parents told me went into the dumpster. Everything that anyone over 25 told me was flushed with my morning duty. After my parents went and other adults were dismissed then came the do-good Pollyanna’s and general pains in the *** like Mrs. McGillis who made it her personal duty to save the entire community. That left only the church.
It was easy to blow off the other churches although the Episcopalians were a more difficult lot. They were later known as reduced calorie Catholics. However, the Catholic Church was a formidable obstacle. They didn’t mess around with you on this sex thing. There were severe punishments for even mentioning it in mixed company. Just writing the word sex was a sin punishable by ten Hail Mary’s and five Our Father’s. To gaze upon nude photographs was worth a rosary and to have impure thoughts while gazing at the pictures was enough to **** your soul on the spot. At this point, I was already slated to ride the Hell train. I already had my ticket—Linda Brooks.
I was part of that group of guys who looked at the dirty books at the drug store, tried to look under girls’ dresses and peeped down girls’ blouses. No female was safe from my prying eyes. Even while I was singing in the choir loft, I would gaze over the railing hoping for the unexpected appearance of cleavage. Women drove me crazy. Just the thought of any woman was enough to drive me nuts.
Still, the church was a potent weapon against my lust but in the end, even Jesus couldn’t stop me. In fact, at one point I believed that I would never get some and I momentarily about praying to him for help in achieving my lusty goal but I thought better of it after one of the Jesus statue stares while I was serving mass. I knew he saw me and I knew he knew what I was thinking. In the end, I did what I wanted with Linda Brooks and the Pope and his minions watched me march on my merry way into the lower depths of Hell. It was a joyous time.
However, my joy was short lived. Once I had achieved my low goal, all the things that had been conveniently misplaced and forgotten came roaring back. Guilt landed on my shoulders and now I knew beyond a doubt that I was truly doomed. Still, it was a strange thing. It seemed to come and go depending upon the male hormonal cycle. Eventually, Linda and I got married after college but I have never forgotten those steamy moments in the park or the weight of guilt riding like a wet blanket upon my shoulders.
I don’t attend Catholic Church anymore but the guilt still visits. They did their job well. I am married with children now and I still feel guilt about what happened with Linda, not because it was necessarily wrong but because I actually enjoyed it and I think that was whole issue. Mea culpa.
I was at once thrilled and guilt ridden. I was a good Catholic kid. I was an altar boy and I was a member of the Catholic Youth Organization. What I wanted to do and what I learned at the CYO meetings didn’t go together. They were like oil and water.
As a young man, I was awe struck by the golden vestments of the priests, the solemnity of the Mass said in Latin and the piercing eyes of Jesus looking down at me from the cross. I can remember serving mass and feeling those eyes following me as I went about my holy duties. I
knew early on that this Catholicism thing was serious business. We even had a king of the church. They called him the Pope but he was more like a king. It was like he was the king of God’s army. Instead of generals and other officers, the Pope had Cardinals, Bishops, priests and even the lowly altar boy such as me. The Pope was infallible, meaning he didn’t make mistakes because he received his orders directly from God.
Sex was serious business, the Pope said we all had to do it, but only when we got married, and even then, it was only so we could have children. There wasn’t supposed to be anything fun about it. It was a sacred duty but only for married people and even they weren’t supposed to have fun.
Linda Brooks put all of those things on my mind. This was serious business. I was already guilty of having impure thoughts. This may seem insignificant but Father Barry told me most assuredly burn in Hell for even entertaining such lewd and lascivious thoughts. I was busted! It was just as big a sin to think it as to do it. I was doomed to constant sin as Linda Brooks stayed in my mind like a steamy dream. It was tough.
In those days, any sight of a female curve produced an instant erection. My hormone pedal was pushed to the floor and had left my rational mind far behind waiting at the bus stop of the confessional where I spent my Friday afternoons telling of my impure thoughts and lust.
I knew other guys who were facing the same thing but they weren’t going against the Pope and all of his minions. I was already condemned and going to Hell when the answer suddenly hit me. In my mind, I figured it all out in a logical and rational manner. I likened it to killing someone. After they were dead, you couldn’t kill them again. There it was. It was that simple.
Since by just having the impure thoughts I was already condemned to eternal Hell fire and damnation, I couldn’t get anymore condemned by following through on my thoughts. Of course, I had a vague inkling that this was not exactly what the church had in mind but rules were rules and finally I had an answer.
Finally, I could lust after Linda Brooks without the fear of Hell fire and damnation. I was already promised that would be my demise, but I knew that all I had to do was to avoid croaking before I had my way with Linda. It was strange this new found freedom because it had me in a mental prison. I was afraid to go anywhere for fear that of dying before I had a chance to satisfy my lust with Linda Brooks. If I croaked, I would go directly to Hell without passing “GO” or collecting $200. It would be downhill all the way to the fiery furnaces of Hades.
However, if I could just get it done and then make it to confession before I got hit by a car or was struck by lightening all of my sins would be forgiven. I don’t know what the penance was for fornication but I was ready to stay up all night doing penance if I could just have my way with Linda Brooks.
This was dangerous stuff I was contemplating. All I wanted to do was “get some” as we called it between male friends. Every normal guy, excluding geeks, bookworms and sissies, wanted to “get some” and we would do anything short of killing someone to get it. Lying was not considered a big deal if it led to “getting some.” Bending the truth—no problem. Even looking directly into the eyes and telling a bald faced lie was not considered an issue if it meant getting some. Saying I love you would be tough but if it were necessary, it would not stand in the way of getting some.
In other words, when it came to getting some and the testosterone levels were recklessly high everything my parents told me went into the dumpster. Everything that anyone over 25 told me was flushed with my morning duty. After my parents went and other adults were dismissed then came the do-good Pollyanna’s and general pains in the *** like Mrs. McGillis who made it her personal duty to save the entire community. That left only the church.
It was easy to blow off the other churches although the Episcopalians were a more difficult lot. They were later known as reduced calorie Catholics. However, the Catholic Church was a formidable obstacle. They didn’t mess around with you on this sex thing. There were severe punishments for even mentioning it in mixed company. Just writing the word sex was a sin punishable by ten Hail Mary’s and five Our Father’s. To gaze upon nude photographs was worth a rosary and to have impure thoughts while gazing at the pictures was enough to **** your soul on the spot. At this point, I was already slated to ride the Hell train. I already had my ticket—Linda Brooks.
I was part of that group of guys who looked at the dirty books at the drug store, tried to look under girls’ dresses and peeped down girls’ blouses. No female was safe from my prying eyes. Even while I was singing in the choir loft, I would gaze over the railing hoping for the unexpected appearance of cleavage. Women drove me crazy. Just the thought of any woman was enough to drive me nuts.
Still, the church was a potent weapon against my lust but in the end, even Jesus couldn’t stop me. In fact, at one point I believed that I would never get some and I momentarily about praying to him for help in achieving my lusty goal but I thought better of it after one of the Jesus statue stares while I was serving mass. I knew he saw me and I knew he knew what I was thinking. In the end, I did what I wanted with Linda Brooks and the Pope and his minions watched me march on my merry way into the lower depths of Hell. It was a joyous time.
However, my joy was short lived. Once I had achieved my low goal, all the things that had been conveniently misplaced and forgotten came roaring back. Guilt landed on my shoulders and now I knew beyond a doubt that I was truly doomed. Still, it was a strange thing. It seemed to come and go depending upon the male hormonal cycle. Eventually, Linda and I got married after college but I have never forgotten those steamy moments in the park or the weight of guilt riding like a wet blanket upon my shoulders.
I don’t attend Catholic Church anymore but the guilt still visits. They did their job well. I am married with children now and I still feel guilt about what happened with Linda, not because it was necessarily wrong but because I actually enjoyed it and I think that was whole issue. Mea culpa.