I confess
In the late sixties in a working class town in the north of England there was little to do on a Tuesday afternoon when it was half day closing. I worked in a food shop and Saturday was usually very busy so all shopkeepers closed up on what they considered was the quietest afternoon. My town was Tuesday.
There was literally nothing to do so l took to going to the cinema particularly if the weather wasn't very good. A packet of ten cigarettes (my mother didn't approve) and the entrance fee and I enjoyed the anonymity of it. On reflection many of the movies l saw were not very good but l looked young for my age and getting into the adult type movies wasn't always easy.
One wet and miserable Tuesday afternoon l went to see a light hearted movie about boys meeting girls. Some of the girls were only wearing bikini's and it was all about them trying to get off with each other. The boys with the girls that is. We couldn't have the same gender getting off with each other in the sixties. A man of about fifty came across and asked for a light for his cigarette. Having given him my box of matches he sits down and starts speaking to me, asking me what I thought of the bikini clad women. Obviously I told him that they were very pretty and I wouldn't mind seeing more of what they had. I didn't want to sound unworldly. He then began talking about what it might be like having sex with them. Again I didn't want to sound virginal so I made positive noises about how nice it would be.
He then put his hand on my leg and starts gently rubbing my knee. My first reaction should have been to stop him but I'm instantly turned on and let him start moving his way up my leg. By the time he reached my upper thigh l am rock hard and he quickly starts rubbing his hand all over my cock. I had never done anything like this before and l reached over to feel his cock too. It didn't feel as hard as mine but I guessed it was bigger.
After a few minutes of mutual fondling he said to go to the toilets and he would follow. Full of lust l went. He followed quickly after me and in no time he had my cock out of my trousers and was rubbing it and stroking my bottom. I lasted no time at all and had one hell of an orgasm. It seemed to last forever and I'd never felt anything like it before.
Once the orgasm had subsided he left to go back to his seat and I instantly regretted allowing this to happen and with another man. Suddenly I felt very ashamed of myself. I had let myself fondle another mans cock and allowed him to walk me off. Instead of going back to my seat l left the cinema in a state of confusion and shame.
I remember walking home that day trying to put the turmoil l felt into perspective. My Irish Catholic mother would have had me exorcised if she knew. But I desperately needed to go to confession and rid myself of this guilt.
My own parish priest would probably recognise my voice so it seemed sensible to go and confess my sin to a priest in a church in the town centre. Easy to do as l worked in the town anyway. I told my mother that I was meeting old school mates after work and would probably go for a burger with them. With an hour to kill before the priest would hear confession l paced up and down the high street trying to work out how l was going to come clean without sounding a complete pervert. I stalled and stalled thinking about what l was going to tell him about what I had done but eventually there was no choice.
In l went and told him what had happened. I expected the priest to warn me of the fires of hell and to never think or do such things again. Instead I was met with sympathy and understanding. He briefly talked about guilt and sin and how it goes hand in hand. If you don't feel guilty then it's less likely to be a sin. As he said nobody died, nobody was harmed. He then went through the absolving part and just before I was about to leave he asked me if I was brave enough to meet him face to face after confession was over, so we could talk more about what was sinful and what was not. I was so relieved at that point I agreed and waited at the back of the church until the light went out over the confessional and he emerged and walked over towards me.
Father Damian was average in many ways. He was not tall, not fabulously built but he did have an attractive face and a broad smile. He said let's walk round to the presbytery and have a cup of coffee. He looked to be a man in his thirties and I felt immediately at ease in his company. He said his housekeeper had gone home so anything we said would not be overheard.
