A response to "From Organist"

Like the girl in this short story, I spent many a Sunday morning on my knees in church. We also had an organist and my thoughts would often turn to him during the looooong and boring homilies our priest was famous for. 

Not that I fancied him, I didn’t. But his would be the only movement visible in the building. He would be setting up the next hymn, or fiddling about with the organ itself. The organ console was high on a gallery and I could only see his top half. Sometimes I would see the rest of him as he opened an oak door and walked up a staircase through the instrument. Sometimes, it get a glimpse of pipes and other things in there. Bellows? Whatever they’re called. 

Being adolescent, I would sometimes sit there wondering if he had fucked his wife that morning. I would imagine little scenarios, like what he’d look like taking her from behind, or maybe, had they sneaked into the building and fucked up there in the gallery. One morning, he was kinda jiggling a bit (it was very cold though) and my dirty 13 year old mind had me wondering if he was masturbating. 

All this would get me damp down below, and give me a nice buzz for later. 

One morning, he noticed me peering through the door to the console, and smiled at me. (I nearly melted) before asking me if I’d like to see. I went First up the staircase, and only now have I realised that because it was so steep, he would have seen right up my dress! He showed me some of the pipes. Some were tiny little things, no bigger than your little finger, others stretched to the ceiling and were massive. He said the biggest pipe was 32feet long. At one point he pushed past me (mmmm) and played some of the really low notes. They were so,loud and powerful I felt them more than heard them. 

I fantasised about this guy now and then. 

We also had a young priest from Romania sent to us for six months. I defy any female to tell me that they didn’t harbour lustful thoughts about this priest. My GOD but he was good looking! Young, sexy voice, a smile that could make anyone cream their panties. 

Someone told me that it’s the unavailability of priests that makes them the subject of fantasy. Whether that’s true or not I don’t know. I sure and shit didn’t fancy our regular guy, but I suppose he must have been young once! 

Back to the organist. 

There was one Sunday in the summer. Our church, usually cool at the best of times, was actually hot! And the organist had tall windows, south facing, at the back of him. He must have been melting up there! He had a thin, short sleeved shirt on which showed some very muscular arms. As I gazed up at him (trying not to be noticed by mom) all I could think about was being enveloped in those arms. Remember, I was only 13at the time. I wanted to be crushed by them, to feel them pulling me to him hard. Hard. Hmmm, well, that of course led on to whatever else might be hard! I let myself imagine he had the biggest dick imaginable. (I’d seen pictures, of dicks of course....thank you internet....oh, and Japanese art, in which penises are often depicted as unfeasibly big and thickly veined....well....a girls gotta use what a girls gotta use). I didn’t imagine him fucking me though. I was still at the stage of being scared about the thought of anything actually inside my vagina. (Even a tampon) But I did think about seeing it, holding it, masturbating it, and even taking it into my mouth. 

At this point I got a firm elbow in the ribs from mom who had noticed I was staring not at the priest, but up into the gallery. She may also have seen how hard my nipples were. I have very prominent nipples when I’m horny. They go hard like bullets and are real sensitive. It’s not unknown for me to be brought to orgasm just through nipple stimulation alone.

Back home, I got torn off a strip for not treating the mass with the respect it deserved, but that didn’t stop me scuttling off to my room and playing with myself. 

As I say, the mere thought of someone pushing anything inside me back then was a turn off, but I did let myself have a nice little mind play. Initially, I just thought of him and his wife kissing and him running those hands and powerful arms all over her, but that quickly changed to him touching my (tiny, then) breasts and slipping his hand into my panties and through the sparse growth of pubic hair.

I though about him diddling my clit and making me cum into my panties. I don’t know, the ‘forbiddenness’ of it all was such a turn on.

Back then, I’m not at all sure I had proper orgasms. Certainly they were nothing like the ones I get now, but I used to go shivery and my legs would stiffen. (Sometimes my friends who had the same thing and I would call it getting a stiffy).

Adolescence for me was  rush of strange new feelings, uncertainty and unpredictability. I never knew when or even if I would get my next period. I learned real early to always carry a spare pair of panties and some napkins with me, and then there was sex. I didn’t know what my body craved at that time. Sometimes, just bucking my hips was incredibly erotic, as was getting naked and opening my legs really wide. Here’s how silly things were. At first, I would just lie flat on the bed and spread my legs. All well and good, but then I discovered keeping my feet flat, raising my knees and letting them flop open was a whole new feeling...much MUCH sexier. And lying on the floor was sexier still. 

Yes, I would fantasise about guys, but never fucking back then. I would also think about girls too. One thing Aunt Clara said to me was “You’re so lucky. We were taught that sex between two men or two women is wrong....but it isn’t.” Again, I didn’t think about penetration, but being kissed by mother girl, feeling her breasts against mine, and her hand in my panties, well, that was very nice. 

My, this HAS turned into an epic, hasn’t it? Sorry about that.