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His hair is the color of cinnamon sticks. His large eyes, always wide and child-like, match his hair. I often wonder what normally goes through his mind sometimes when he is not talking to me but sitting there gazing off like a young baby watching a bright toy. Then I stop myself for fear of injury or brain damage or something of the like. I'll never make sense of Dougal--at least not while I'm sane.
Father Ted Crilly put down the pen closed his personal journal. His head turned almost involuntarily to gaze over at Father Dougal McGuire, sitting on the couch of their parlor and staring intensely at a turned-off television set. Ted knew that Dougal knew that the television was off. He was simply waiting for his favorite game show to come on. That time was literally hours away. In the mean time, he gazed with that child like innocence at the blank screen.
Off in his corner, in his favorite chair, Father Jack Hackett sat; snoring the day away as was his want. The elderly priest spent most of his time in this prone position, which was just as well for Ted. When he wasn't asleep, he was normally spewing abuse and demanding a drink.
Ted sat at the breakfast table and looked over the scene with care. For them, this was what peaceful amounted to in their lives on Craggy Island. Ted was grateful for it. It was the only time he had to write his thoughts down in his small journal. Sometime they were thoughts for his day or some times they were more like a touch of poetry or short prose. However, it was the one thing in the parochial house that he could solidly call his own. Priest had very little when it came to personal possessions. The vow of poverty was alive and well in the church. And despite being diocese priest, no priests in their diocese were more impoverished than Bishop Brennan's boys on Craggy Island.
Ted Crilly was in his mid to late forties, a man just ripe for a mid-life crisis, if priest were allowed to have such things. He would have been a distinguished enough looking priest with his thick graying hair if it weren't for the good nature look of his face and the soft twinkle in his silver blue eyes that told of a man with great humor. And it took a man of great humor to look after this lot of recalcitrant priest on the island. All three, sent to that purely God-forsaken island by Bishop Brennan as punishment for past errors, were a mixed bag. Ted seemed to be the sanest of the three and therefore it fell on him to care for the other two. Ted took his banishment in stride and tried to remember that everyday spent successfully in Dougal and Jack's company meant perhaps some time less in purgatory.
He thought to say something to Dougal about his wasted time before the blank screen but then thought better of it. There was no use trying to get Dougal to rationalize his actions. Half the time Dougal hardly realized his actions. Amazingly enough still, Ted was very fond of the younger priest. He considered him his best friend, and he knew that if it were not for himself, Dougal would have no friends at all.
Boredom got the better of Ted in the end and he addressed Dougal.
"Dougal, do you intend to stare at the blank screen till Blockbuster's comes on?"
Dougal turned wide innocent eyes to his friend. A gentle, child-like smile came over his features. It seemed to enhance the sheer youthful glow of his rosy cheeks. Dougal's smiles at times seemed like happy gifts. This one was solely for his best friend Ted. "Oh God yeah, Ted. I'd hate to miss it. It's my all time favorite."
Ted gave Dougal a thoughtful look for a second as he considered the younger priest's motives. Dougal was often too intense on his focus that situations like this resulted or else he would focus solely on one thing to the exclusion of all else and thus miss something else just as important. This was not unusual.
"It just that, Dougal, Blockbuster's starts at six. It's only…half one!" Ted exclaimed as he looked down at his wristwatch.
Dougal's eyes got wide in surprise and for a moment Ted thought that perhaps something he said might have hit home. His hopes were dashed in seconds with Dougal's next words.
"Oh Ted, do ya think I might hit the toilet now so I don't miss a thing?"
Ted lowered his head shaking it in disappointment. There was no use in trying.
In the outer foyer, the sound of the front door opening and closing could be heard and the noise caught both Priests attention. There was a brief shuffling and bumping then a high pitched woman's voice called out.
"Halloo, Fathers!"
"That would be Mrs. Doyle now, Ted." Dougal said needlessly. Ted recognized the near cackle of their middle-aged housekeeper. Mrs. Doyle was a not a lovely woman but she had a nurturing air about her and a good deal of what Ted thought was either patience of absent-mindedness. Nevertheless, she at least attended them with decorum even if she was not playing with a full deck. She had just been out running errands. Hopefully she had the mail as well.
Mrs. Doyle shuffled in side ways carrying a large parcel in plain brown paper with an address stamp on it that clearly read:
To Father Dougal McGuire
Craggy Island Parochial House
Craggy Island.
Ted looked over to the puttering woman and gave her a smile. "What would you have there now, Mrs. Doyle?"
Their spinster housekeeper continued her labored shuffle about the parlor couch as she answered. "I just popped down to the post office and they had this parcel for Father McGuire…"
"Ooo Wow!" Dougal exclaimed from the couch as he stared large eyed at the package. Mrs. Doyle sat the package down on the table next to Ted.
"There you go, Fathers. Now let me go put the kettle on for tea." With that, she flustered out of the room like a woman on a mission.
Just the sheer look of pleasure in Dougal's eyes as he gaze on the plain brown parcel clearly marked for him little the youthful features of his face into that of pure innocent joy. It was so beautiful and contagious that Ted could not help but to smile as well.
"Well, Dougal, aren't you going to have a look at your package?" Ted asked Dougal cheerfully as he watched that child-like joy.
"Ooo Wow!" Dougal repeated. He then jumped up from the couch like a child on Christmas day and rushed the table where the box sat. Ted watched as the younger priest began to tear through the wrapping and he was amused all the while. Dougal pulled free a card and tossed it aside unthinking as he continued to work down to the contents of the box. Ted picked up the discarded card. Opening it carefully he noticed the Gallway post mark. He skimmed the note.
"Dougal, It's from your auntie Maggie. It's your birthday present."
Dougal stopped opening the package abruptly. "Oh." His face fell in disappointment. "Then I needn't open it till my birthday then."
Ted found himself coming up short as he always did with Dougal at that moment. "Dougal you just had your birthday last weekend--You needn't wait the whole year round to open the package. She meant it for this birthday!"
"Oh right so, Ted." Then that soft wondrous smile grew back over Dougal's features. With in seconds he was back to ripping through to his present. Ted shook his head amused as he watched. And at last Dougal was pulling away tissue paper and pulling out what appeared to be green and black spandex. There were two garments made in these colors. Dougal looked them over suspiciously.
"I wonder what Auntie is up to now?" Dougal asked cryptically. His lips pursed as if his thoughts were troubled.
Ted was still thoroughly amused. "Her card says that she knows how you like bicycling--"
"Oh--Hey! That would explain the helmet." Dougal exclaimed with a look of surprise as he pulled a matching green and black bicycle helmet. "But I still don't know about the tights…"
"They're cycling shorts, Dougal." Ted explained in a soft slow voice.
"But I don't cycle any more, Ted. I rollerblade." Dougal replied back as if that should answer Ted sufficiently.
"Apparently Auntie Maggie is not up on your latest pash." Ted replied. He then shook his head again as he pushed aside Dougal's denseness. "Why don't you try it on any way. It's not like you don't still have a bike and it looks as if your Auntie spend a lot of money of that cycling outfit."
Dougal considered the set of spandex garments carefully for a second longer than perhaps normal people would have. "All right then. I'll try them." He stuffed them back in the box and carried box and all away towards the foyer and the stairs. Waiting for "Blockbuster's" was apparently forgotten.
Ted sat back in his chair and opened his journal adding a sentence to his last entry:
Dougal McGuire is the enigma God set upon the earth to drive me to madness.
He closed the book again as Mrs. Doyle entered the room with her teacart. "Time for tea now, Fathers." She announced. She approached Ted with a steaming cup.
Ted knew that it was all of Mrs. Doyle's existence to simply serve a great cup of tea and see that it is thoroughly enjoyed. He also knew that it was just simpler to accept the cup than to try to argue down their "tea impassioned" housekeeper. But Ted had an urge for the challenge. He had to keep hope alive that he had some sort of control over his life.
"I'm all right for tea here, Mrs. Doyle." He smiled politely at her. "Thanks, but no."
"Ah now, Father. Just a drop?" It was a question that sounded more like a statement of fact. It gave clue to her iron resolve. But Ted stood his ground.
"No thank you, Mrs. Doyle. I'll pass."
Like a stalking cat, she seemed to be approaching him now teacup in hand as he sat at the table. Her smile was still friendly, still kindly but Ted found a mincing quality about it. It was as if she was sneaking up slowly on his determination in the attempts to break it down.
"Ah Father. Just the teeniest tiniest drop?"
Ted remained determined to keep up this battle of will power and politeness. He smiled cheerily at the housekeeper. "Thanks much but still no."
"Ah, You will. Go on."
Ted knew what was inevitable to come next but he steeled himself against the coming onslaught. He knew all her moves. Worthy opponent though she was, Ted found her use of this resort devastatingly effective if not slightly cruel on the weak.
"Go on. Go on. Go on. Go on. Go on. Go on. Go on. Go on. Go on. Go on. Go on. Go on. Go on…"
At this point, Ted strategically tuned her out. It was a time tested and battle proven defense but he knew that she knew how to work around it. He waited patiently for her sing-song voice to run out of breath.
"No, Mrs. Doyle." He said simply with a smile. For a moment she seemed to stand stunned. Then with a non-plussed smile she gave a great-exaggerated shrug and moved on to new game in the form of the sleeping Father Jack. It was a shame she would wake him but Ted reveled in another victory! Another day he successfully resisted afternoon tea!
The sound of feet trotting down the stairs caught his attention as he watched Mrs. Doyle cautiously approach Father Jack. The Dougal burst back into the room. Ted had not been prepared.
There is a quality, a shine to spandex that highlights and makes enticing all that it covers when what it covers is well shaped to begin with. Both shorts and riding shirt were form fitting for aerodynamic reasons. The slick shine of the black material as it smoothed around the curve of Dougal's tight youthful buttocks seemed to coax the desire to squeeze tightly that firmness in one's hands. The kelly green stripes moved slanting about the thighs, circumferencing them and accenting their shape and firmness. Going up inward on the thigh one found the accented bulge of his groin looking promising. Further up and the shorts tapered to his waist where they met with the shirt. The green stripe met at a V from shoulder to belly accenting the broadness of his shoulders in contrast to the trimness of his waist. It gave an illusion to a strong solid chest. Tight short sleeve gave illusion to larger stronger arms. Ted had not been prepared. But he recovered quickly.
His hands opened and closed for the slightest of moments as he thought of what it would be like to take great handfuls of Dougal's bottom. He wet his lips slightly as he thought of the kiss that he would ravish his soft full lips with. He shifted in his seat to make room in his pants as he felt his member awaken and heat slightly. Ted may have been a priest but he was still human. Humans are sexual creatures much to many of the clergy's dismay. Ted pushed arousal aside with in the next second.
"It's a bit tight." Dougal exclaimed.
"I think that type of out fit is meant to be so." Ted replied and was glad when he heard his voice come somewhat natural and not strained from the momentary inner agitation. Dougal seemed to be lost in his own world again anyhow. It never ceased to amaze Ted how fast Dougal could lose a train of thought. He watched as the younger priest picked up the black and green bike helmet and placed it over his cinnamon stick hair. He pulled the straps to under his chin.
"Do you think this out fit will make me faster on the ol' bike, Ted?" Dougal asked.
"It'll certainly makes you look faster." Ted smiled back at Dougal, but he added in a cautious tone, "But I wouldn't push your luck Dougal. It's only been a few years since the training wheels incident."
"Oh right, yeah." Dougal nodded. "But still, Ted. I think I will pull out the old bike and give the new outfit a go."
"All right then--but be careful." Ted gave Dougal a sober look. "The last thing we need is for Bishop Brennan to get a call from some angry parishioner about a mad priest running down picnics again!"
Dougal's face brightened and he smiled proudly down at Ted. "No worries about that, Ted. I'm not in my collar, now am I!" Ted rolled his eyes at Dougal's simple and ineffective logic.
After that Dougal lilted happily, nearly skipping from the room. Ted could hear him in the foyer. There was a great racket as he heard him removing his ten-speed from the side room where he stored it. Then there was a second of silence. Then the click of a ten-speeds chain followed by a loud slam.
"Dougal!" Ted called. "If your gonna ride the bike in the hall, mind the doorway?"
"Sorry, Ted." Dougal called back. "Didn't get it open so!" There was a moment mores racket then Ted was sure that Dougal had made it out the door. Ted peered out the window and sure enough there was the younger priest on the path from the parochial house door. Ted felt a chuckle rise in him.
He opened his journal once again.
Forgot a few things…My body was kind enough to remind me
He closed the book once more. He had forgotten a few simple things. He had forgotten how concealing and unappealing the black clothing of a priest could be. It made the catholic clergy as a whole a field of black with only a white collar to contrast. The collar was a brand on them all that they were brothers in Christ; that they all belonged to the church. Ted had forgotten that Dougal was young and not just in the ways of his immature mind but in the virile and beautiful shape of his youthful body. Dougal was still in his sexual prime. Shameful that it should waste away on a vow of celibacy…Just as Ted's had.
It was a very long time between erections the older he became. Today's reaction had been a very pleasant but unsettling surprise in the since that this was the first time he had seen his friend and companion Dougal as a sexual creature. Perhaps it was because he spent so much of his time taking care of Dougal and protecting both him and Father Jack that Ted felt more fatherly of Dougal as time wore on. But now Ted's own body reminded him that Dougal was not his son and Dougal was far from being a child. At that moment in time when Dougal emerged wearing that cycling outfit, looking as sexual and sensual as his youth and beauty would allow, Ted's body responded first. His heart responded second.
That was the unsettling part. It was surprising to Ted to discover how deeply and passionately he did want Dougal. It was unsettling to know that his lips thirsted to taste and his hands hungered to feel. Had he always wanted to sink his teeth into the creamy white expanse of Dougal's luscious throat? Had he always yearned to rub his heated groin up against the lad's sweet round ass and stick his tongue deeply into the silken whorl of one of his blushed ears? Had he always wanted to grasp him, hold him, pin him down, and smother him with the weight of his own body and his own desire, dominating him and taking from him sweet pleasure?
Ted shook away these thoughts again as his body gave a shudder. He was close to full arousal once more. Apparently he did want all these things.
*^*
It was a few hours later that Dougal returned. He bounded through the door of the parlor excited, or agitated or both. He held the cycling helmet in his hand and his hair was damp from sweat. His limbs fairly glistened with sweat and Ted felt arousal heat the blood in his veins again. Dougal looked at Ted wild-eyed and nearly frantic.
"Is there any thing wrong, Dougal?" Ted asked as the younger priest stood before him shifting his weight from foot to foot in his agitation.
"It was the strangest thing, Ted." Dougal began.
"Go on." Ted prompted.
"You know Mary Beth Kay?"
"Yes." Ted replied expecting the worst. "That would be the Kay's eighteen year old daughter?"
"Yes." Dougal said. "She was out riding with two friends-- I just said Hi as I past--"
"And?" Ted prompted again.
"And all three fell clean off their bikes!" Dougal's voice conveyed serious urgency. "It was bad, Ted. All three of those nice girls in the dust. Well I left as fast as I could…"
"Perhaps you should have stayed and help them up." Ted suggested.
Dougal stopped and gave Ted a blank stare. "I didn't think of it."
"Well never mind then--" Ted said but Dougal's agitation came back and he continued.
"And then I past Mrs. Muldoughy using her shears and Mrs. O'Shey watering her lawn. I said 'Hi.'"
"And why should this be a problem?" Ted asked feeling his amusement replace his arousal.
"I don't know what possessed Mrs. O'Shey but she turned the hose right on Mrs. Muldoughy…Soaked her through she did!"
Ted gave a slight chuckle. "Was she by chance--looking directly at you at the time?"
Dougal looked surprised at Ted for a moment then gave a silly smile. "Oh, yeah, Ted. They both were looking right at me, saying hi." But as quickly as if he flipped a switch, Dougal's agitation returned. "You don't think they'll call Lynn?"
"Call him Bishop Brennan…" Ted corrected.
"I don't know what they'll call him if they ring him up but do you think they will complain?" Dougal responded.
Ted laughed as he slipped his hands into the pockets of his gray wool button-down. "No, Dougal, they won't be complaining."
Dougal gave an exaggerated sigh of relief. "Ah God, that's good, Ted. I don't even know what I did to cause all that."
Ted laughed again for he did know. And what woman with breath in her lungs and eyes in her head would not become distracted by the sight of young Father Dougal McGuire in tight spandex bicycle shorts? It would never cross poor Dougal's mind that this could be possible. It was of little wonder that Dougal had been mystified by the ladies reactions. Dougal's true innocence was the crowning quality to his quirky personality. Would any of these fine ladies complain? Not at all. In fact, Ted expected to hear a few quiet suggestions from the feminine congregation for more of the same.
Ted stood next to his friend laying a fatherly hand on his shoulder. Perhaps a poor choice of moves on his part as he felt the urgency in his body began to spike again and he took notice once more of Dougal's sweat soaked spandex clad physique. He moved his hand off quickly.
"Perhaps you should get cleaned up." Ted suggested. "It's nearly dinner time."
"All right then Ted." Dougal complied readily enough. He turned and half-trotted from the room. Ted only watched him go for a second.
"Drink!" Father Jack's bellow could have waked the dead but Ted never even flinched for he was very use to it.
"In a moment, Father." Ted called back to the elderly priest. Pulling his thoughts away from Dougal, Ted went over to the shelf closes to Jack and pulled down a bottle of Hennesey and a sherry glass.
"Drink! Drink! Drink!" Father Jack's shouts came louder as he beat his hands on the arms of his worn old chair in time to the chant. Ted moved quickly to put the glass in the old priest hands. He poured the glass half full of the sherry.
"There ya go, Father." Ted said as he watched Jack begin to down the drink. Before Ted could even think to put the bottle away. Jack snatched it from his hand and hugged it close like a precious child. He glared at Ted.
"Very well then." Ted said as he moved away from the old priest. Ted sat down on the couch and regarded Jack for a moment. There were those who thought Jack to be an old lecher but Ted knew better. Jack certainly had an eye for a pretty girl and he was straightforward in his approaches but he had never been an underhanded priest in the way some were who could not respect their vows. Some priest used the trust in honesty and faith in piety that some parishioners had for the clergy to fool them into situation that they may not desire. It was a horrendous sin to Ted. It sickened him to think that there were true wolves wearing the collar. Jack was not one of them. He was just a tired old priest, soaked in alcohol, forgetful of his reverence, and having an eye for a pretty girl. But he had never been a predator. Ted wondered if that was what was in store for him when time took it toll. Will the years of denial and regret make him a sour old lecher eyeing the bottom of every passing boy? He hoped not. Ted had never been a pedifile. He didn't think that time would make him into one either but he could not deny the fact that there was beauty in youth--at least in youth above the age of consent.
Dougal was twenty-eight.
When Dougal came back down to the parlor he was clean as if he had had a quick shower. He was dressed once more in black. His collar was neat and orderly. He wore his red sweater vest. Cinnamon hair was fresh and clean and combed neatly in place. Ted had expected that seeing Dougal again as he had always seen him in his normal clothing would break the spell he had been under since the beginning of that afternoon. Ted had never been so wrong in his life. Dougal smiled at Ted exposing dimples and Ted felt his heart melt.
"It's nearly six, Dougal." Ted announced. Dougal gave him a vacant look.
"Six o'clock then, Dougal"
"What's this, Ted." Dougal gave him a happily confused look.
Ted sighed exasperated. Dougal would never be accused of having a mind like a steel trap. "Dougal, Weren't you waiting to see something at six o'clock?"
Dougal gave Ted a confused happy look. "What could I possible want to see that had to wait till six?"
"The Television!" Ted nearly snapped.
Dougal turned and looked at the shut off set and then turned back at Ted with his same simple smile. "It's right there, Ted. It's there all the time; not just at six." Dougal explained.
"The game show, you great idjit!" Ted finally lost his patient and fairly growled at Dougal. But then he threw up his hands and rolled his eyes in defeat. Why did he always waste his time so?
"Ah!" Dougal exclaimed as it came flooding back to him. "Right! Blockbusters! Right so, Ted!" Then with out a second thought he trotted around the couch and turned the television on. That was it, Ted figured. Once the television was on, Dougal was gone for the rest of the evening, sucked into its world of make-believe.
Ted sighed and sat back down at the table picking up the romance novel he had started. He lit a cigarette as he settled back. He didn't care for game shows.
*^*
Ted fell asleep to the sound of Dougal talking in his sleep, indulging in his favorite dream of being on his favorite game show. It was a normal enough thing at the beginning of the night to hear Dougal's voice drone on about consonants and vowels to Richard Whitely and his lovely co-host Carla. But some where in the deep of the night, Dougal would fall past the REM and into the deeper sleep and then all was silent. This was the time when Ted at long last dreamed.
The dream was obviously a product of the day's event. It rode the aftermath of Ted's self-discoveries. Many priest saw erotic dreams as a window to their own souls' weakness but Ted often view erotic dreams as God's rewards for celibacy. After all, it was only a dream and how often is a priest allowed the pleasure of orgasm. Masturbation being a sin and holy orders involving that old vow of abstinence narrowed the window down to next to never. If God saw it fit that your body have a little solo experience in sleep without the use of manual manipulation then one should just praise him and thank him for his wondrous generosity.
But this dream tested Ted's belief in that. Every priest knew how sex worked…at least every normal priest. They all understood the workings of the body and it's organs and it's hormones. They all understood the mechanics of nature. Unfortunately nature was the thing that all priest were expected to rise above. To make things more complex, the church's position on homosexuality was not a favorable one.
But more disturbing than all this was just how it started. That look on Dougal's face, a look that Ted was sure he had never seen on Dougal's face before was more than disturbing. In his dream it had been incredible arousing. Who knew that Dougal could give such a sultry gaze--or at least who knew one could imagine Dougal with a sultry gaze.
He had been wearing his new cycling outfit and had been good enough to eat…so Ted tried…at least in his dream. But he never came to completion in his dream. Ted woke up soaked in sweat and still aching with desire. The ache was incredible. It was like no other time he had been aroused before. Ted practically had nothing to compare it to in a way. He had been aroused before but never this strongly while he was awake. He lay for a moment a little afraid to move as the last echoes of his erotic dream past into the night leaving him unfulfilled and needy. His mouth was dry but his fore head was damp with sweat. His hands clutched the covers of his bed holding them secure least they fall away to reveal the straining bulge of his erection thrusting against the thin layer of fabric of his pajama bottoms.
And how his erection ached. Its need threatened to drive him mad as it radiated outward along his nerve endings and set his flesh on fire. Every inch of him seemed supersensitive in response to its urgency. Ted lay still for a long while, waiting. It would go away if he was just quiet and still and let his mind wonder to benign thoughts. He fought an urge as deep as instinct to touch it; a need to rub it, to ease its ache. He held silent and still and waited.
But it was not going to go that easy, not when from time to time flashes of his incredible dream popped into his mind as he desperately tried to clear it. Ted opened his eyes to the darkness to help purge the vision but that only help a little. His mind still lingered on that beautiful fiery look in those large cinnamon eyes and sweet moist pout of his full lips. In the dream, Ted had taken a kiss from those lips. It had been a hard demanding kiss. It had been a domineering kiss. It had suited their relationship and had been everything he had expected. His lips and his tongue had forced entry into the younger priest mouth where there they had proceeded to take his sweetness. Oh how he still longed to taste the reality!
And to feel! In his dream, his hands had had free range. They had groped and explored without fear. His hands had reached to squeeze that tight young ass; to mold and knead it in his very palms but he awoke before he could have that joy. Now he lay in his bed with the image clear in his head. His straining erection gave a small leap in his pajama bottoms and he felt moister at its tip. Just pre-come he was sure, but still--
Sometimes Ted believed God to be an excessively cruel jokester. Certainly someone up there was getting a great laugh at his expense. It would be a shame if it weren't the case. It was the perfect ecclesiastic practical joke. And to put the icing on the works as Ted lie there in a pool of his own sweat a prisoner of his lust, at that moment Dougal tossed in his sleep and mumbled a single word.
"Ted…"
Ah God Almighty, No no no nononononononononono! Dammit! Ted curse silently in his mind as his body responded to Dougal's soft call. Why did he have to dream of me now!?
There was no escape for him now, he realized and resigned him self to a small sin.
*^*
The bathroom was slightly chilly in the pre-dawn hours, but even its nipple-raising chill was not enough to slacken the raging ache that still strained against his pants. He had moved with exaggerated care from their bedroom and into the hall, looking. Waiting, and expecting. At every second he suspected he would see old Jack lurking about ready to laugh at Ted with his obvious affliction pushing up against his pajama bottoms. Fortunately the old priest was not abroad in the hall or the bathroom and Ted could hear a faint trace of Jack's caustic snore coming from beyond his bedroom door. Ted bolted the bathroom door lock behind him.
Taking a seat on the covered toilet Ted proceeded to loosen the drawstring of his pajamas. Carefully he lowered the bottoms from around his swollen rampant member and pushed them down his thighs and knees till they fell at a heap at his ankles. Exposed to the air now his erection fairly throbbed and its heat stood in contrast to the cooler air bringing a sensation that spiked at his balls. Ted suppressed a moan.
Because he was a careful and neat man he opened the front of his pajama top and bared his chest to protect the garment from the stain of his seed. For a moment he ran a hand over his own chest feeling erected nipples beneath the salt and pepper chest hairs that grew semi thickly across it. He bit his lips and let his breath come as a quiet sigh instead of the groan of pleasure he truly felt with in himself. Now he was ready.
It was funny that masturbation could be a feat like riding a bike. Once learned the skill never leaves you. Ted did not forget the small tricks that he had learned in early adolescence. He did not even think when he moistened his hand with his own saliva. His hand wrapped carefully about his heated needing length and stroked in the sudo-lubrication. Ted's head fell back at the pleasure of the touch. Another sigh of breath. Slowly his silver blue eyes closed.
The image that crowded his mind was that of Dougal in that cycling outfit as he had been in his dream. Ah yes! Just as he had been. And Ted was on him now. As his hand began with a basic rhythm up and down his rampant heated member Ted saw in his minds eye that demanding kiss. His tongue practical pushed down Dougal's throat, his hands digging into and taking great handfuls of tight ass; Ted's vision was a complete replica of his dream. But now he began to modify it.
Yes, what if he was to imagine himself rubbing his hot groin up against Dougal, up against his thighs and up against his own groin in that tight black spandex? Ah yes! Ted's hand moved a little faster. He became wary of the ultra sensitivity of the head and was careful. He now wanted to prolong this pleasure. His fingertips stroked past the glans just before the ridge of the rosy taut flesh of his erections head and Ted nearly did not catch the moan that rose up from deep with in him. He clenched his teeth about his near intonation.
What if he felt Dougal become aroused by his attention? What if he began to kiss him back with enthusiasm? What if he felt the ridge of Dougal's own erection as he rubbed himself urgently against him? Oh he was so close now! He lingered on that image. His hand stroked faster. There was the faint slapping sound of flesh on flesh as he continued. He placed his other hand down to cup his balls, stroking the silken flesh of his sac with his thumb. He bit his lip again as a moan grew up inside him wanting expression in the form of a single word:
Dougal!
Left unspoken, the sound of the name hung in his mind as he saw in his fantasy the wide innocence of Dougal's eyes again transformed with lust and need. Soft full lips, kiss swollen and rose red were parted as Dougal's quickened breath escaped in a soft desperate pant. Ted saw himself recapture the tender pink flesh of those lips again; biting gently at the fullness of the lower lip; using his tongue to gain entry once more. Now his vision of Dougal clung to him and kissed him back with a sort of tentative yet restless frustrated passion as if he was uncertain or unfamiliar of how to gain the carnal stimulation he craved. His fantasy Dougal pressed his sweet young body to Ted as soft pleading sounds came forth from him that all amounted to the words:
"Please, Ted."
In his mind he listened with hungry ears to the music of Dougal's voice panting those desperate words over and over; growing more breathless and passionate with every repetition. Fiery arousal making his young body rigid yet yielding to Ted's needs. But it was the fantasized vision of a heavy lidded look in those cinnamon eyes that finally tipped Ted over the edge and climax claimed him completely. He shook from head to toe with it but still managed to stifle a cry as the sensation poured through his body like liquid fire. His erection throbbed in his hand as jets of milky seed shot forth, held back so long from expressing that the stream flew hard and fast. He was erupting pearl white essence that struck his own cheek, his throat and his chest.
Ted shuddered hard as the last of the sensation fell away from him leaving him bereft. He sat for a moment on the toilet seat catching his breath and realizing how very wet he was now that he had practically covered himself in his own semen. And although he had opened his pajama top to spare it from the eruption, he had still managed to get a small couple of dollops of his come here and there on the fabric. He was just thankful that it wasn't a lot.
Guilt took him then. One could hardly be catholic without knowing the sweet agony of guilt. Ted's clean hand came up to his head as he rubbed his face anxiously as he thought of what he had just done. He was slightly surprised as he felt his finger tips slip on his cheek through the warm thick fluid there. He wiped his face dry as he contemplated his sin.
It was not the actual act of masturbation that disturbed Ted the most. It was his lust for Dougal that took him so unaware and drove him to this end that caused him considerable consternation. Ted released his still tightly swollen member, careful of it for it was now overly sensitive after his orgasm. Even with this aftermath of guilt, his seldom-used organ was slow to recover its languid state. Ted looked down on it as it continued angry red and veined, lying tensely against his belly. It slowly began to list to one side announcing the beginning of its return to a more flaccid condition. But at that moment, in his guilt Ted saw his penis as indecent and ridiculous as it began to droop down in pulsing stages. He wondered what could have possessed him to do and think such things. He felt filthy.
Something not quite nausea but akin to it made him feel uneasy in his gut. Perhaps this feeling overwhelmed him because he hardly ever went to such an extreme since maturity set in, or maybe because he felt this act of weakness beneath his dignity as a priest. Or perhaps he just felt that his fantasy was in some way a betrayal to Dougal's trust in him as a friend. After all, how would it be for him to know that his best friend knocked his rocks off to the fantasy of him in tight cycling shorts? Ted shook his head and heaved a great sigh.
His eyes went heavenward for a moment. "Never again, Lord." He proclaimed but somewhere deep inside himself, he knew and he knew that God knew that that vow was easier said than done.
After a short moment more, his penis was back at rest again looking as if none of it had ever happened. Ted rose to wash himself up at the basin. For a moment he was struck by his own reflection in the wall mirror over the sink. He saw a middle-aged man with gray hair and a near pathetic look of self-loathing in his silver blue eyes. His right cheek was still moist with remnants of his own sin. His skin looked a bit ashen, a bit pale. His thin lips turned down in a frown to himself as shame reasserted its hold on him. Ted shook his head again and looked away, disgusted with himself. Briskly he cleaned himself with cold water.
Clean and redressed, he returned to his room, still dark and marginally quiet. Only the soft whisper of Dougal's breathing betrayed his presence in the room now. Ted looked over at the lump of sleeping priest under the "Master's of the Universe" quilt of the other bed. He slept peacefully now. Ted wondered what sexual dreams some one as simple as Dougal could possibly have if any. With another shake of his head, Ted pushed the thought from his mind as he lay back down in his bed to resume his evenings sleep.
*^*
After breakfast and then lunch rolled past them, Ted looked up from his paper and picked up his journal. Unthinkingly he looked about the parlor. He saw Dougal, sitting on the couch of their parlor and staring intensely at a turned off television set. He was again waiting for his favorite game show to come on at a time that was hours away. In the mean time he gazed once more with that child like innocence at the blank screen. Off in his corner, in his favorite chair, Father Jack sat snoring the day away, as was his want. The elderly priest spent most of his time in this prone position, which was just as well for Ted. When he wasn't asleep he was normally spewing abuse and demanding a drink.
Quiet except for the normal sounds of the day, Jack's creaky snore, Mrs. Doyle bustling about in the kitchen, the tick of the mantle clock, everything seemed as normal as it ever was in Ted's little world. Ted sat at the breakfast table and looked over the scene with care. For them, this was what peaceful amounted to in their lives on Craggy Island. Ted was grateful for it. It was the only time he had to write his inner thoughts down in his journal.
Last night I saw myself in a new light as I looked at Dougal in a new way. God almighty, nothing will ever be right again. Its probably best to just forget that it ever happened but I know that I never will forget. I don't know that I really want to.
End