When I was in a Catholic Jr. High, I used to go to confession every Friday afternoon. Our teacher-sister would take the entire class at three o'clock every Friday so we'd be "fresh" for Sunday Mass, I guess. The confessional was a three-booth thing. The priest sat in the center booth, behind a wooden door. On either side was a small booth with just a heavy velvet curtain over the door.

Inside there was a little window with screen over it so the priest could hear you. Supposedly you couldn't see him nor could he see into the booths, but everyone knew that was bull because we could always see the priest, although not always clearly. The priests always sat back so they didn't see who was making confession.

Soon after I started at that school, I found that I always got stifles (young hard-ons) when I went in there to confess. Here's why: When you entered, the other person was always giving their confession. You couldn't hear, because the priest closed a solid little door over the screen to keep sound out; then when it was your turn he'd open your door and close the other one.

But that didn't keep us from knowing who was in the other booth, 'cause we all waited in line and Sharon and I would always make sure we were next to each other in line. That usually (not always) got us into the two booths at the same time. Sharon and I were always fooling around playing with each other under the class tables, and had even screwed a couple of times.

Still, whenever I went into that confessional, my young dick just got hard as could be and felt really good. So, I got in the habit of unbuttoning my pants and slipping it out in there, and jacking off. I always carried a handkerchief and usually came in it when I had enough time and was excited enough to finish.

Usually I'd cum about the time the priest slid my door open, but sometimes I'd still be jacking off while I made confession. Then I'd have to hurry and re-button before I finished. Sometimes I made up extra "nothing sins" like cussing, or being stubborn with mom, just to give me time to finish putting myself back together.

Sharon always told me that she'd play with her cunny under her uniform skirt when she knew I was playing with my dick on the other side. That helped make me so horny I guess -- although actually I seemed to always be horny back then. I don't know if my dick ever relaxed, no matter how much I stroked it.

One time in the confessional I had just confessed to "touching myself in private places." I had unbuttoned my trousers and taken out my dick. Now I played with my young hard-on as I confessed my list of sins.

I knew that Sharon was in the other side, and I could picture her playing with her sweet little pussy. I thought maybe the priest was doing something, too, 'cause I could hear a soft slapping from inside his booth and kind of heavy breathing, so I peeked through the screen and sure enough he had his hand around his prick (which looked really big to me, but probably was only about average size), sticking out of his cassock. He didn't lean forward or anything, just sat there stroking that manly prick. I noticed it was all glistening around the big head.

The sight of his cock sticking up made my face really hot. I didn't want this to end so I made up a few more sins -- one of them that I had touched and played with a girl in my class. I noticed that the sounds from his side became faster and more intense, and I could even hear his breathing.

He asked me for details on exactly what I meant, so I recounted how Sharon and I had played with each other in the vacant lot behind an abandoned house near school, and when I got to the part about us screwing naked there, I heard stifled moans from his side and figured he had just squirted his stuff.

With that thought I came really hard almost immediately. That was the only time I ever saw a priest going at it. I couldn't really tell which priest it was (there were seven at our church), but I always suspected was a young blonde one who seemed "different" from the others -- in later life, I realized he was probably gay because his behavior pretty well pointed that way. But I never knew for sure, and he never made any moves on me or anyone else I knew of.

After leaving the booth, Sharon and I left the church together and were giggling a lot. I asked Sharon if she had heard me, and if she had known the priest was jerking off too. She said she had seen his cock in his hand and heard some moans so she figured he was playing with himself. And, yes, she had been able to hear my confession.

"Did you jerk off like usual?" she asked.

"I sure did," I replied. "And I came really hard, knowing that father was doing the same thing. How about you?" I asked. "Did you play with your cunny?"

"What do you think, dummy," she said with a grin, holding her finger up to my nose. It definitely smelled of young pussy. We were the first two back to the classroom that day, and both of us were really randy. We went into the hall and found the janitor's room. We slipped in and Sharon slipped down her panties and raised her little uniform skirt.

I unbuttoned my trousers and freed my hard-on. Standing there, I bent my legs and slid my dick up into Sharon and began pumping into her young little body. I grasped her butt in my hands and kissed her neck and mouth. I came quickly, being so randy, and if Sharon didn't cum I knew she really enjoyed that quickie. We immediately separated and pulled our clothing back together and slipped back into the classroom. I noticed her face was red, and mine probably was too.

We had a lot of laughs over all the events of that day, and more than once later we played with each other remembering that scene. It always made us hot and we would wind up screwing if we could find a place we thought was safe.

Sharon and I kept up our sex games under the class tables and in confessionals for months, sometimes going back to that vacant lot where we felt protected and safe to screw. Then my folks moved back to our home town and I went back to public school for lack of a Catholic school. Too bad. That was fun. Don't know why I Sharon and I never saw each other again. I still have a class picture with her in it, and now and then I masturbate while looking at it and remembering the great times we had.



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