Late First Communion

I’m easily the tallest girl in the line, but then I would be at 16 while the others are all 11 or 12. I’m standing in the line at the back in my white first communion dress, complete with veil. It feels like I’m about to get married, and in a way, I am. First communion is about receiving the Lord inside you. I remember giggling when Sister said that and getting rapped over the knuckles for it. 

Yesterday was my first confession too. I was scared about that because at 16 there was a lot to confess. “Impure thoughts and deeds, Father.” He had asked if the impure deeds were with myself or another. I had told him it was just myself, which was true. In other words, I should have said, “I masturbate, Father. I lie in bed at night with my hand in my panties playing with myself and thinking dirty thoughts.” 

I smile under my veil, and my thoughts drift ahead in the years to when (maybe) I will be standing here in a bridal gown about to get married....and we all know what comes after a wedding....and I don’t mean the reception. I imagine my future husband deflowering me while still in my bridal gown. He lays me on the bed, pulls my panties aside and enters me. We are both so ready....and have been for months, no foreplay needed. He is hard....I am wet. 

Another pace forward. People are looking at me. Ahead, Father is distributing Holy Communion, right, left, boys line, girls line. I look very virginal in this dress, but underneath, my white panties are damp. I can feel it every time I take a step. Thinking about that reminds me that last night, for the first time, I shaved myself. Scissors first to reduce it all to stubble and then four razor blades! Four! The moment it felt like one was going blunt I swapped it out. I recalled how wet I had gotten, and how I had looked in the mirror at my new, smooth sex.  I had masturbated looking at myself. I suppose that is another sin to add to the list. 

Another pace forward. Nearly my turn. The curate can’t take his eyes off me, he is a young priest, straight out of seminary, and this is his first appointment. He is handsome though. Shame that cock isn’t going to be put to use during his lifetime, I wonder how a lusty young man like this can possibly manage not to masturbate. Are wet dreams a sin? He must have them....at least he must if he doesn’t take care of business himself! Friends at school and I often talked about whether there is a secret understanding and that nuns...especially the younger ones...have to service the priests from time to time. We came to the conclusion that once a year, a priest goes on a special ‘retreat’ where they get to have a year's worth of sex. To evil little bitches like us, we had no difficulty in dreaming up the most outrageous scenarios. A parish priest got one nun, a bishop could have threesomes with two nuns of his choice. A cardinal could have a different nun every day AND threesomes, while the Holy Father himself could have sex any day of the year he liked with whomsoever he fancied on the day. Emma had said, “Maybe the Swiss Guards had better watch their arseholes!” Another detention for giggling in class! 

Another pace, and Father turns to me. “The body of Christ.” I lift my veil and mutter an “amen” and open my mouth for the host. I stick my tongue out a little as I’ve been taught, and Satan is at work immediately. “Just like taking a cock in your mouth.” He whispers into my ear. Oh dear.....moist panties have now become positively wet...especially since I’m gazing into the curate’s eyes at the time. Oh dear. 

Afterwards, at the party, the curate seeks me out. He asks if I enjoyed my first communion, and I mumble platitudes. In fact, just talking to him is making my clit throb. He tells me that I looked flushed when I received the host. I ask if I can speak to him privately, and we go back into the now deserted church. The familiar and comforting smell of incense, polish and flowers pervades the place.

I tell him that I felt.....aroused......wet.....he tells me this is not unusual in older first communicants. He is standing very close to me and I can smell soap and a hint of aftershave. His hand brushes my mound...accidentally, I’m sure. He asks if I need anything more. I don’t reply, but I take his hand and press it against my sex. He understands immediately. For a celibate man, he has no difficulty in flipping my white dress up and working his hand under the waistband of my panties. He cups my sex perfectly, and I know he can feel the wetness on the back of his hand as well as the copious flow on his fingers. He makes no attempt to enter me, but he finds my hard clit in seconds. 

His fingers.....oh my God....his fingers feel so good. I press a hand against his pants and feel his hardness. An inept fiddle or two...or three...with his zip and I have his cock in my hand. Instinct more than knowledge tells me what to do. 

I’m almost there and I tell him. “Father,I.....I’m...going to.....” My knees are slightly bent and apart, and I’m grinding my hips forward onto his hand. He leans in and kisses me and that’s all it takes. I cum hard. I feel his cock pulse and looking down, I see him cum onto my dress. 

Afterwards, he smiles, and blesses me. I stand there...barely....on shaking legs with semen running down my dress. 

* This fantasy has variations, as they all do. Sometimes, the hunky young curate fucks me, sometimes I’m fucked very publicly at the after communion party. Sometimes we are discovered by the Parish Priest, and, even though he is in his mid 60s I have to help him out...and sometimes, it’s both priests. You can imagine how that goes. Spit roasted or double penetration. 

There is definitely something about the virginity aspect of this fantasy that arouses me so much!