A crack of lightning lit the sky followed by a loud boom and then a steady rumble. The rain was coming down in sheets. The sky was black with pent up rage as the storm ravaged the countryside. High winds shaking the buildings and bending the trees at will.
Father Michael made his way through the old church building. It had been standing for over 200 years and the patrons had not always had money for upkeep.
Over the years it had become a hodgepodge of patch work and repairs. In this deluge the roof leaked in several predictable places. He stepped around one of the buckets he had put out earlier to catch the steady drips.
Father Michael was just blowing out the last of the candles in the main sanctuary when a figure stood in the doorway.
It had the lanky and slight build of a young teen, although admittedly quite tall. A heavy long trench coat over black pants and a huge black hoodie made the sex impossible to determine. The oversized black hood hid the figures identity from him. He couldn't tell if it were one of his parishioners or not. Concern filled Father Michael.
A recent rash of petty crimes made him wary of keeping the church open at night as was the tradition. It was still mostly a safe community though so he consented to at least keep it open during his waking hours or as long as someone responsible was available to be there. He hoped he wasn't going to regret it now.
Despite the heavy clothing the figure was soaked though to the bone. A large puddle was forming on the floor under the still, silent, form. He was about to speak but the figure reached out into the air and fell to the floor.
Father Michael moved surprisingly quick for someone his size. He was a giant man. At almost 6'5 and easily 260 pounds of solid muscle, His flock lovingly referred to him as the 'gentle giant'. Sometimes they teased him and called him Goliath. He bent over the unconscious body. It moaned. He knew instantly that the mystery person was female.
Sighing, Father Michael scooped her up, slinging her over his shoulder. The first thing he noted about her was how light she was. His large arms had easily taken her weight. He guessed that she was close to 125 pounds before the added weight of her wet clothing. She was also taller than she had first appeared. He figured she'd reach his shoulders at least making her around 5'11.
He pulled the heavy doors to the church shut and locked them. He was quickly soaked through to his underwater as the flood of water rained down on him. He walked the short distance to his house. This posting came with a small two room cottage for the serving priest.
He opened his door to warmth and the smell of food cooking on the stove. He stepped into the sparse room. Walking the short distance to his couch he carefully lay the young girl down. As her hood fell away from her face he was struck by her beauty. She had long slightly wavy reddish auburn hair. It was thick and glossy. Her bangs added to her youthful appearance. Her skin was pale.
She had high rounded cheek bones in an oval face. A straight nose turned up ever so gently at the tip. Full lips and delicately arched brows. She opened fevered eyes to look at him. Her eyes were a light turquoise green. They took his breath away.
Leaving her there momentarily he went to stripped naked. At 28 Father Michael was still a virgin. He had never even made out with a woman. He worked his body hard to deal with his sexual frustration and the odd bout of lust caused by the women who would occasionally try to tempt him. As a result his naturally large body was very fit and muscular.
His massive pecs flexed as ripped arms pulled his wet shirt over his head. His wide chest was hard and toned tapering down to noticeable washboard abs and a small waist. He struggled to pull his sodden pants off. Well defined muscles in his legs rippled as he worked the clinging material free. His tight bubble butt clenched in the cool air. He shivered. His long thick penis hung lax between his legs. He pulled on dry clothes and returned to deal with the girls wet garments.
Father Michael tried not to look at her body as he removed the cold wet material she wore but he had never taken a woman's clothes off before, never seen a naked female. He stripped her down to her shirt and pants fairly easily.
As he managed to get her tight T-shirt over her head he saw that she had lovely high breasts that had peaked as her already chilled body was exposed to the air. He felt his body stir as he stared at her hard nubs.
His heart was pounding as he reached out to undo her pants. His thick fingers had difficulty getting ahold of the dainty tag as he slowly lowered her zipper. He fumbled with her pants. His eyes widened and his pupils dilated as he watched her tight tummy come into view.
It felt very naughty to be opening her pants. His mouth went dry and his hands started to shake as he revealed her gently rounded hips. She sported a tiny dragon tattoo just above the line of her low riding thong. He had a sudden desire to lick it with his tongue.
He pulled her pants the rest of the way off. He looked over her body clad in just a white lace bra and a matching thong. Her waist was tiny and her legs were slim and long. She had a slightly coltish look that he found endearing.
He was fully hard now and very uncomfortable. He also felt a little guilty that he had so enjoyed taking her clothes off. And that he had trembled as he stroked her soft skin.
He felt stimulated everywhere as he carried her through to his bedroom and lay her on the bed. Covering her with his blanket he administered some Aleeve to bring her fever down. There was no point in calling anyone. The main bridge was washed out. Shaken, he ran his hand over his face. He took a deep breath and left the room.
Entering the draughty kitchen he prepared the soup. Bone broth had been on the stove for the last hour so he diced up vegetables and herbs to add to it, making a rich flavourful meal.
He was a good cook as he had been on his own since his mom died when he was 17. He had looked after her long before that as cancer slowly took her life away. He would look up different recipes at the library to entice her to eat something. In the end she just stopped eating. His Dad was long gone so after she died he'd gone to live with the nuns. That's where he decided to become a priest.
Father Michael came to this area solely because of the youth. There was opportunity here to start a basketball program for the kids at the juvenile penitentiary located not far from the valley. He had a passion for helping kids get off drugs, out of gangs and helping them to not return to prison.
There was already an inner city program being run by his board but nothing in the prison itself. Father Michael accepted this very rural posting so he could be the person to make it happen.
He pulled himself out of his revelry. He was happy to see that his body had settled down. He felt normal and in charge again. When the soup was ready he took out a tray. Piling it high with bowls, cutlery, bread, butter, cups of milk, salt and pepper, he headed back to his bedroom.
The young lady was still asleep. He set the tray down and sat close to her. He tried to rouse her from sleep. She opened her eyes and smiled.
"Hello."
He smiled back. His cheerful 'hello' was drowned out by her cough. It was a deep chest rattle. 'This girl has been sick for awhile' thought Father Michael.
He helped her sit up and eat some soup. "My name is Father Michael. You are in my parish cottage. Do you remember coming to the sanctuary?"
She nodded between mouthfuls. Her breathing was raspy and she erupted into another bout of coughing just like he suspected she would. He could see the fever in her as she lay back on the pillows.
"What is your name my dear?"
