Date: Fri, 2 Jan 2015 03:41:50 +0000 (UTC)
From: curious <pansutorht@yahoo.com>
Subject: It All Started With a Visit

Hi everyone. This is a long story about a boy named Manny. I hope you like
it and remember if you do then let me know via email: pansutorht@yahoo.com

It all started with an innocent visit.

I had gone over to Father Hornbeck's home about 3 hours after Sunday
services which meant I got to his place about 2 o'clock in the
afternoon. Father Hornbeck lived in a small single bedroom frame house
behind St. Luke's Catholic Church located just off the highway near the
outskirts of town. The reason I went to see him was because of how I was
feeling emotionally about myself. In 1974 at age 14 I was really confused
about my sexuality. The youthful sexual longings and desires I was
experiencing that I believed were sinfully deviant and immoral were
emotionally troubling to me and I was desperate to talk to someone about
them. I was depressed, confused, and I felt so alone. At that point in my
life I didn't know if what I felt about sex was normal or abnormal. I loved
and adored girls and my sexual attraction to the fairer sex left no doubt
in my mind that I was essentially heterosexual. However what turned me on
whenever I fantasized about having sex with a girl differed markedly from
how my buddies talked about girls and sex with girls.

Don't get me wrong. Like my friends I loved looking at women in general and
fantasizing about touching and squeezing and sucking on their tits. Or
imagining what it would be like to press up tightly against their soft
rounded ass and rub my hard throbbing cock across their ass cheeks. And of
course the fantasy always ended by picturing ourselves mounting them and
pussy fucking them. So like all my friends I was attracted to the same
things that they were about girls. But unlike my friends I didn't just
appreciate the natural form and physical build of a woman. I was also
sexually attracted to the kind of clothing they wore, specifically their
intimate wear.

For me a woman presents herself as the essence of female when her clothing
accents and accentuates her physical form, her shape and her build. And
that is exactly what women's fashion is designed to do. When I was young I
loved looking at a woman wearing a pretty one-piece dress cut with a high
hemline so her legs could be fully displayed and admired. I liked it
whenever I saw a woman wearing a short skirt below a soft silky looking
open blouse cut to shape and show off the fullness of her breasts. High
heeled pumps and sandals that accentuated a woman's calves and made their
legs appear longer were awesome things to see as well. But what really
turned me on, what I like the most about women's clothing is nylon hosiery
and soft silky lingerie.

Nothing is more sensuous and sexually stimulating to me than seeing a woman
wearing nylon stockings or nylon pantyhose. Women's nylons are amazing
things because they enhance the natural shape and delicate curve of the
legs and feet. Moreover they're so soft and delightfully touchable. They
glimmer, gleam and shine in the light and the sight of their sparkling
luminance is simply captivating to me. The soft smooth material can make a
woman's rather plain looking legs look pretty, and a pair of beautifully
shaped legs stunningly mind blowing. The intensity of my sexual attraction
to women has always been at its most extreme when nylons are present. But
looking at images, pictures of women wearing pretty lingerie also turned me
on, especially lingerie paired with nylons. So garter belts particularly
wide belted styles that ride snuggly on or above the hips make's me feel
weak in the knees. A lacy, or a satin, gartered bustier lifting the breasts
and shaping the waist is an arousing sight to behold as well. And I do love
it when a woman puts on and wears a soft silky smooth nylon camisole or a
simple short nylon dress slip over a garter belt and nylon stockings. All
of these things, for me, make a woman sexually desirable. But it's their
nylons, their beautiful wonderful nylon hosiery that excites me the most. I
love looking at women wearing nylons and that is regardless of her size,
her shape, or her weight.

How I felt about women's nylons, garter belts, busteir's, camisoles and
nylon dress slips, is what made me feel different from my friends. I felt
different because where they would talk about fucking a girl using her
pussy, ass, and mouth as simply a means to gratify their base sexual
urges. I on the other hand wanted to talk about touching and fondling their
soft sensuous intimate apparel. Like them, I too wanted to kiss a girl on
her pussy and insert my tongue inside her and taste her sex juices and
ultimately lose myself inside her. But unlike them, I didn't want to just
bury my face in her pussy and begin licking and sucking away on it like it
was some kind of lollipop. No, what I wanted to do and what I fantasized
about doing was I wanted to first admire a girl and appreciate her and the
sexy nylons and the kinds of intimate lingerie she could wear. I wanted to
soak in the image of her all dressed up and I wanted to be able to talk
about how soft delicate and sensuous they could make themselves appear to
an appreciating eye such as mine. I wanted to talk about taking her nylon
stocking feet in my hands and slowly delicately brush my lips across her
nylons. My sexual fantasy that I wanted to talk about with my friends was
to tell them how I wanted to touch her, to be able to feel the softness of
her through the silky smoothness of her nylons. I wanted to hear her gasp
and catch her breathe and moan softly in pleasure as I slowly worked my way
up her legs until at last I came to her moist warm place, her mons
Venus. Then only after lifting up her nylon clad legs so they could be felt
and squeezed in my hands. Then and only then would I place my mouth on her
and pleasure her with my lips and tongue until I could bring her to
climax. What I wanted to talk about with my friends was how I wanted to
feel her shudder and tremble with her orgasm as she shot into my hungry
mouth. In my sexual fantasy I wanted to please her and make her know how
passionately and intimate sharing ourselves with each other should be;
instead of being a simple gauche matter of performing a wham bam thank you
ma'am kind of encounter like all my friends spoke of.

In my sexual fantasy only after the girl climaxed into my mouth would I
then move up to mount her. Holding myself over her I would slowly slide
into her penetrating her slowly, gently, until my hard little hard cock was
buried to the hilt. Then before I started to stoke and thrust myself in and
out of her giving myself over to the physical pleasures I could only
imagine at age 14. I would whisper softly into her ear to tell her to place
her nylon stocking clad legs lightly against my hips and thighs. I would
whisper to her and describe to her what I wanted which was to have her rub
my sides softly and continuously with her stockings until I too achieved
climax.

That is how I fantasized about women at 14 and that's what made me
different from my friends. In essence when they talked about fucking girls
they did so from the perspective of simply taking a physical pleasure from
them. I did that too. But I also wanted the girl to enjoy and know and
appreciate how much more she could emotionally pleasure and please me if
she wore nylons and silky lingerie while we shared ourselves physically
with each other. Looking at her, softly touching her, exploring her body
with my hands and my lips, feeling her tremble under my touch. Those were
the things I fantasized about happening between a woman and me. And because
I felt this way about women's nylons and intimate lingerie I naturally
began to wonder what it would be like to wear such feminine things
myself. I wondered if I could dress up like I wanted a girl to dress up to
enhance the pleasure of having sex, would doing that be as sexually
pleasurable to me as having a girl do it?

I started thinking about what it would feel like to actually put on a pair
of real nylon stockings and hold them up on my legs by wearing a garter
belt, and pairing them with donning a soft silky clingy nylon camisole or
short nylon dress slip. It was while I was imagining myself doing that,
dressing myself in the kinds of intimate sexy girly things that I found so
sexually stimulating. That I eventually came to realize that daydreaming
like that made me feel extremely girly and feminine. This realization and
recognition that these kinds of girly feelings were within me, I found were
both shocking and yet very pleasurable to me. The fantasy of dressing up
like a girl thrilled and excited me.

Whenever I allowed myself to imagine doing this I always ended up feeling
incredibly horny. But such naughty and wicked imaginations also embarrassed
me because I was a boy and boys don't go around wanting to dress up in
girly things. Especially soft silky sexual things like nylons and
lingerie. Unfortunately for me the desire to actually act out this girly
kind of sexual fantasy is one that I quickly realized was something that I
couldn't just ignore or set aside. I couldn't because whenever I looked at
girls, especially adult women. The sight of them in their pretty dresses
and skirts, silky blouses, high heels and nylons, was a constant reminder
of this rather deviant sexual desire of mine. The embarrassment I felt over
feeling this way was very real. Yet imagining myself actually going through
with it, letting myself be so girly acting within a sexual context was also
powerfully stimulating to me. However turning girly as I started to call
and refer to these wicked and deviant sexual desires of mine was
impossible. If any of my family members, my sister or my mom or dad, or
anyone in our community were to discover this naughty secret I had. If
anyone were to ever find out how shamefully sinful I would be if I allowed
myself to act out like I fantasized about, being and behaving wickedly
girly. The punishment I would receive as a result of being found out that I
felt this way would be too much to endure.

I really struggled to let go of this part of myself because I knew it would
be considered, by others, that it was wrong and sinful for me to feel like
I did. So I tried to bury my feelings and hide my sick sexual yearnings
from everyone I knew. But even as I denied myself I couldn't stop the girly
urges inside of me that wanted me to let myself feel girly and express
myself sexually that way. I created even more confusion inside myself
daydreaming about dressing up when I realized that even though I was going
through puberty my physical development into a young man wasn't such that I
grew heavier and thicker through my torso. I was slim with a tapering
waist. I had nice legs and knew it because my sister and mom were always
commenting to me that they wished they had my legs. I wasn't lean in the
sense that I had no muscle mass, I did. But I was slim in the sense that I
had very little body fat. I had a flat tummy, wide hips, and like my sister
and mom always told me, nicely formed perfectly tapering legs and small
feet. Looking at myself in a mirror my physical appearance when I looked at
myself naked was masculine yet feminine at the same time. I liked how I
looked as a young teenage boy and I knew I also would like how I would look
if I dressed up in girly things. And it was due to this realization that I
couldn't help feeling my desires to dress up in women's nylons and
lingerie. I knew I could actually present myself as a very pretty girl and
probably pass in public as one. But it wasn't my desire to present myself
as a girl to the public. It was my desire to present myself as a pretty
girl to another man. When I began thinking that way, being with another man
in a sexual way, that did freak me out. When I started to fantasize about
being with another man I scared myself. It was wrong to feel that way, to
want to be sexual with another man because such a thing was sinful. So I
tried to bury those sexual feelings I had. I tried to deny them and forget
them and push them away. But I just couldn't do it. And as a result of my
inability to set aside those feelings I had. I ended up hurting myself
emotionally. This internal struggle I was dealing with during puberty is
what caused me to grow so confused about my sexuality.

I tried to be a normal boy like all my friends were. I tried to hang in
with them as they talked about fucking girls and getting them to suck
cock. But every time we talked about having sex. Every time we talked about
fucking girls. All I heard about was cocks going into pussies or cocks
going into asses or cocks going into mouths. I never heard any one talk
about touching and stroking the nylon clad legs of a girl and describing
how soft and silky smooth nylons could feel underneath your hand or upon
your lips. I never heard any of my friends talk about how sexually arousing
it is to see a girl in nylons that were held up by a sexy garter belt or by
a gartered bustier. None of my friends ever spoke about sliding their hands
along and over a woman's silky smooth pretty camisole or nylon dress slip
covering and hugging the delicate contours of her body. It was all about
going into holes with them and that just didn't do it for me. The other
thing my friends never talked about concerning sex was any thing resembling
an emotional content that I believed had to be felt while engaging in the
physical sexual acts they were so grossly describing. None of them spoke
about feelings, the deeply intimate emotions felt by yourself and your
partner before, during, and after sex where you shared feelings between
each other just as you shared your bodies with each other. Hell, not once
did I ever hear any of my friends mention kissing a girl on the
mouth. Tongue fucking a pussy, standard fare for the sexual
t�te-�-t�te shared amongst us. But kissing a girl on the mouth was
totally absent from the conversation. How they approached sex and talked
about sex; and how I was learning to approach sex and how I wanted to talk
about sex was so very different. I wanted more than just fucking and
sucking. I wanted to experience how it felt to be with a girl, to be with a
woman, a woman who presented herself to me sexually all dressed up in
nylons and sexy silky lingerie. That's what I wanted and that's what I
longed for. Fuck, as much as I hated to admit it to myself I wanted to try
doing that, to dress myself up just as I fantasized about women dressing up
for me for sex. But instead all I got was talk of cocks going into
holes. So I pretended to enjoy the sex talks my friends and I had with each
other. But whenever I was home. Whenever I could hide myself away from
every one. I let my sexual fantasies take me where they would. And slowly,
but steadily, I began to fantasize about engaging in homosexual encounters
with other boys and eventually I also began to have sexual fantasize about
having sex with older mature adult men.

At first my homosexual fantasies were innocent enough. All they really
entailed was imagining myself dressing up in nylon stockings and a garter
belt and letting another boy touch and fondle me. At night when I was in
bed I would lay there listening to pop and soft rock music playing on my
transistor radio, and as the music played softly in my bedroom, I would
close my eyes and picture myself lying in bed with my imaginary boy lover
next me. As I grew hard and reached down to hold myself in my hand. I would
imagine my lover stroking my sides above and below my garter belt. I
fantasized about feeling him trailing a fingertip down my garter strap
until his hand reached my stocking top. Then as I saw myself rolling into
him, lifting my stocking leg up and over his. I would feel him then begin
trailing his hand slowly up and down my nylon stocking clad leg. How I
sexually fantasized about touching girls through their nylons is how I saw
myself being touch by other boys in my homosexual sex fantasies. And how I
dreamed of whispering to a woman and telling her how pretty she looked
wearing stockings and a garter belt, or stockings and a gartered bustier,
either of which would be deliciously reveled to me as I slowly lifted up
her silky nylon camisole or nylon dress slip, just so I could drink in the
sight of her sexual beauty. Those were the same whispers I fantasized were
spoken to me whenever I pictured myself dressed up wickedly girly and being
with other boys. My sexual boy on boy fantasies always involved a lot of
hugging, hugging and holding one another, all so I could let my lover feel
as much of my sexy girly intimates as possible. It was the hugging part of
my sexual girly fantasies that eventually turned me towards imagining
myself being with an adult mature man.

I began thinking about having sex with men instead of boys my own age
because I discovered that picturing myself being with an adult older man
was somehow more emotionally comforting to me. It felt safer somehow. I
can't really explain it. But the idea of being held by a man, feeling his
strong arms encircling me, holding me, squeezing me; that just opened up
and released this incredibly soft warm feeling inside of me. The idea of
being held as I pictured it happening in my mind made me feel so
feminine. As I was taken into my dream lovers arms I would imagine myself
wrapping my nylon stocking clad legs around his naked waist, cradling him
and pulling him both onto and into me. As I saw him lying on top of me I
imagined the two of us kissing full on the mouth and exploring each other
with our hot wet tongues. In these sexual fantasies I dreamed of utterly
surrendering to the man. Allowing him to do whatever he wanted to me. I
really enjoyed these sexual fantasies of me being with a man and not a
boy. And because it felt so much more intimate, it felt so much safer, more
often than not when I fantasized about dressing up girly my imagined lover
simply got older and older.

But then every time I was finished with my girly homosexual sex
fantasies. I would lie there in my bed and would feel so fucking regretful
and ashamed of myself over letting myself dream about being with another
boy or an older man. That I ended up hating myself for it. How, I wondered?
How could I be so sexually attracted to girls and then in the blink of an
eye go from wanting to be with a girl, to then wanting to be girly and have
a sexual encounter with a boy or a man? What I felt inside didn't make any
sense to me. I knew I was sexually attracted to women, but whenever I
imagined myself being girly I knew without a doubt that I was sexually
attracted to men, specifically older men. I couldn't make any sense of my
feelings.

Why did I feel like I did and why couldn't I stop myself from feeling like
I felt?

I was so confused.

The sexual urges I had inside of me to explore my girly side. To let it
come out of me, and let myself feel and be that part of me. Those feelings
kept getting stronger and stronger as I developed and grew older by the
month. And it was becoming harder and harder for me to deny them. I wanted
to stop what I was feeling inside. I wanted to have all those girly things
about me to just go away. But they didn't. Those girly feelings, those
homosexual urges, the sexual fantasies of getting girly and sharing myself
with boys and older men. I couldn't stop them or end them. Those girly
feelings I had kept growing and growing, they kept getting stronger and
stronger until one evening I just couldn't fight it any more. And to my
utter shame and horror I did something that I thought was so wicked, so
sinful, and so perverted, that I used it as the motivation for going over
to Father Hornbeck's.

What I did on the Friday before the Sunday I went over to visit with Father
Hornbeck is I snuck into my mom and dad's bedroom and I stole from her
dresser drawer a pair of her nylon stockings and one of her garter belts. I
took, I stole these things from my mom because my sexual cravings to
express my girly side were simply just too powerful to deny any
longer. Fantasizing, dreaming about touching such things, dressing myself
in them and feeling them on my legs, wanting to do that was becoming
unbearable. I had to, needed to, discover once and for all what it felt
like to dress myself up. I intended to put them on, mom's garter belt and
nylons, and let myself finally satisfy my overwhelming sexual need to
physically get girly acting. I wanted to use mom's things to turn myself
into a girly-boy and finally accept this part of myself.

The simple act of entering their bedroom, sneaking in while they were away
to steal mom's intimate apparel, doing it finally, that was nerve wracking
for me. I felt scared, nervous, and yet I also felt excited about what I
was doing. I couldn't stop shaking and shivering the moment I entered their
bedroom and went over to her dresser. I had thought to myself when I got up
to commit my theft that it would be a simple matter to steal mom's
things. But when I reached her dresser I froze in place. I wanted to just
reach out and open up her underwear drawer and quickly rifle through it to
find what I wanted to take. But I hesitated. I don't know how long I stood
there but at the time it felt like an eternity to me. I almost decided
against doing what I had gone into her bedroom to do. But I told myself
that if I had gone that far I might as well do what I went there to do so I
reached out and slid her dresser drawer open.

When I look into the drawer I immediately saw mom's nylon stockings,
several pairs of them, all clustered and clumped together on one side of
the drawer. I was reaching out to grab a pair when the most aromatic and
intoxicating scent I'd ever experienced rose up and hit me full on in the
face. My god the heady aroma of mom's nylon stockings literally made me
catch my breath. I couldn't believe what had happened to me. The sweet
delicate scent of the nylon material was mind blowing. My knees suddenly
felt weak. I heard a roaring in my ears as I felt blood rushing down into
my crotch and into my cock. I had in instant erection between my legs and
butterflies in my stomach. I felt goose bumps popping up all over my body
and my mouth went dry. I looked down in front of me and I saw that my out
stretched hand was just trembling. I hadn't expected that something like
that would happen to me when I first thought about stealing mom's things. I
was so excited that I had to force myself to lower my hand and grab a pair
of her stockings.

The moment I touched them this incredible electrifying shock shot through
me. The material felt so deliciously soft and so incredibly smooth that I
simply gasped out loud. I was totally aroused touching mom's nylons and I
had a full throbbing erection in my jeans that was both pleasurable and
painful. Tenderly I closed my hand and lifted my prize from her drawer. Mom
kept all her stockings paired by knotting them together. The pair I held in
my hand had been wrapped and then bunched so when I lifted them out of her
drawer the stocking tops unfurled and draped down, dangling from my
hand. The sight of them, the sheerness of the soft material was mesmerizing
to me. I could see writing glittering on the darker shaded welts of the
stocking tops and I nearly allowed myself to insert my other hand into the
stocking top so I could spread it with my fingers and see what the writing
said. But I needed to hurry up and get away from there, before mom and dad
returned home and discovered what I was up to. So instead of fondling her
stockings, with my free hand I reached into her drawer and drew out a
garter belt. The one I grabbed was actually the first one I saw. It was a
simple plain white one that was lying on top of others that were next to
mom's underwear and bra's. Once I had the belt I used my hip to slam shut
her dresser drawer and with my prizes clutched tightly in my hands I turned
and left mom and dad's bedroom and hurried to my own.

I had done it. I had done what I wanted to do. I stole a pair of mom's
nylon stockings and a garter belt and now that I had what I had longed for
I wanted nothing more than to quickly undress myself and put her things
on. But once I was in my room. Once I was alone and looked down at mom's
things that I held in my hands. I discovered that I just couldn't do it. I
just couldn't put on mom's things. I wanted to. I so badly wanted to. But
as I sat there on my bed looking down at her stockings and garter belt the
enormity of my sinful act, allowing myself to be overcome by all my sick
wicked desires hit me like a ton of bricks.

What had I done, I asked myself? What had I done?

As soon as I realized I couldn't go through with putting her things on this
incredibly powerful overwhelming sense of shame, guilt, and remorse came
over me. The sheer loathing I felt towards myself over what I had done was
palpable. I felt so devastated by what I had done that I cringed. I had
committed a sin, a grievous shamefully sinful act against my mother. I
stole from her that which I considered the essence of what it was to be
female. I had snuck into her bedroom like a petty thief. I had opened her
dresser drawer. And then like the sexual pervert I thought myself to be. I
took from her her most intimate of womanly things. How sick and sexually
depraved was I to have done such a thing? I was so ashamed of myself for my
actions that all I wanted to do was try and correct the wrong I had
committed against my unsuspecting mother by getting up and immediately
returning her stolen nylon stockings and garter belt to her dresser
drawer. I thought if I put them back. If I just returned them and placed
them back from where I took them. Then perhaps I could pretend I had never
done such an awful thing. And perhaps I could fool myself into believing
that what I had done had never happened. If I could return what I had taken
then I could correct what I had done. But before I could return mom's
things to her dresser drawer, her and dad came home and their return
prevented me from taking her things back that evening. So I had to hide
them. I had to secret them away so no one would find them and discover my
secret. So I slipped the things up under my mattress and promised myself
that the next day and as soon as I could I would return them to mom's
dresser drawer. If for whatever reason I couldn't. Then I told myself that
I would take them outside and I would dispose of them by burying them some
place where no one would ever find them.

Saturday came and although I waited for any opportunity to present itself
that would allow me to return mom's purloined things. I ended up having to
leave them underneath my mattress because at no point during the day was I
ever alone in the house. I spent the day thinking about what I had done and
trying to understand what was wrong with me. That whole day I thought about
the wickedness of my actions and just felt miserable.

I knew that I needed to tell someone what I had done. The guilt I was
experiencing was eating ate me and I just needed someone to talk to. I felt
that if I could tell someone about myself, if I could just unburden myself,
then perhaps I would feel better. But I knew that whomever I ended up
talking to that it would have to be someone that I could trust. It had to
be someone that I could trust to hear me confess myself and reveal my inner
yearnings too but it would have to be someone who would keep my secrets
secret. I needed to talk to someone so they could help me deal with all the
fucked up emotions and crazy sexual cravings I was feeling. I needed to
find someone with whom I could share my feelings with, but it had to be
someone who wouldn't judge me or turn away from me in my time of need. I
needed someone who could keep my secret about how I felt inside and about
what I had done in stealing from mom. But whom could I trust? I couldn't
talk to any of my friends. I couldn't talk to my sister. And there wasn't a
chance in hell that I was going go in and see mom and dad and confess
myself to them. So whom could I trust?

The next morning when I got up I felt so bad that I began to wish I had
never been born. I hated myself for feeling like I did and for what I had
done. I wanted someone to comfort me to make things better. And so out of
desperation that's when I made up my mind to go and talk to Father
Hornbeck. As a priest I knew that if I went and confessed my sins to him
that he was obligated to keep whatever I confessed to as confidential. The
faith we shared mandated his remaining silent if I confessed. So I decided
to take the chance of going to him and telling him everything about
myself. I wouldn't hold anything back. I'd tell him everything. I would
tell him about all my sexual fantasies that I had towards girls and
women. I would tell him about all the sexual fantasies that I had about
getting girly by dressing myself up in nylons and lingerie so I could then
allow myself to engage in and have homosexual sex with boys and men. And
most importantly I would tell him how I had sinned against my mom by
stealing from her with the intent of carrying out the sick sexual fantasy I
had of dressing myself in women's cloths. Not only would I tell him about
stealing mom's nylons and a garter belt. I decided that I would actually
present them to him and allow him to dispose of them. And no matter what
act of contrition he imposed on me. I swore that I would accept my
punishment and with his guidance seek absolution for what I had done and
forgiveness for the abnormal sexual desires that were within me.

Church services in our town commenced at 9:30am and were usually over with
by 11am. Although I was raised Catholic and my family is Catholic. We were
not practicing Catholics. In other words unless it was Easter or Christmas,
no one in my family actually went to church. Oh we often participated in
church sponsored events and such but going to mass services every Sunday
just wasn't something my family did. I knew that Father Hornbeck wouldn't
leave St. Luke's until after noon lunch so I had a lot of time to think
about going to see him. Since I was going to turn over mom's things to him
I needed to find a bag or something I could hide them in and carry and take
with me when I went over to see him. I had a very small book bag that I
used for carrying my school books in and that's what I shoved mom's things
into. About quarter-to-two I decided to get things over with. So I grabbed
up my small bag with mom's things stuffed tightly into the bottom. Full of
nervous energy, feeling anxious yet strangely excited about what I was
going to do. I exited my room and called out to mom that I was going to go
and hang out with my friends. I told her I would be gone until suppertime
and as I stepped through the door I heard her yelling after me to have fun.

When I finally reached Father Hornbeck's place I knew he was home because
the yard gate for the picket fence that encircled the church's property was
open. Everyone in town knew a closed yard gate signaled that Father
Hornbeck wasn't home, that he was out running errands or out ministering to
people. So it was a relief to see the open yard gate. Going through it I
walked up to his front door and knocked. I had to repeat my knocking on the
door two more times before he heard me and came to answer the door. Once he
did and saw that it was I standing there. He invited me inside and asked if
I would like something cool to drink so I could refresh myself. I politely
accepted his offer of a drink and he invited me to find a place on his
couch and make myself comfortable. He disappeared into his small kitchen
area and I heard him getting ice and running water into a cup. When he came
back into the living room he was carrying a tall cup of ice water that he
set down next to me on the end table next to the couch. Thanking him for
his act of kindness I nervously reached over and picked up the ice water
and took a sip of it.

Now the thing I liked best about Father Hornbeck was he was your average
looking kind of guy. He was in his early fifties and he wasn't a physically
imposing or intimidating man. In fact he was so average looking that if he
were to remove his clerical collar you would never know he was a man of the
cloth. He wore wire-rimmed glasses that he kept perched about halfway down
his nose and he had thinning close-cropped salty graying hair and a
receding hairline. I suppose that due to his age that was the reason why he
was pudgy through his mid-section but other than that he was just your
normal looking kind of guy. He stood just a couple of inches taller than I
was but I knew that eventually, as I got older, that I would catch up and
surpass him in height. He possessed blue eyes and as clich� as it sounds
they really did possess a twinkle to them. As I sipped from my cup I
watched him sit down in his comfy looking over-stuffed easy chair. As he
sat down he looked over at me and asked me what I came over to see him
about. "What brings you by this afternoon Manny?" he asked and with that I
set my cup down and began my confession.

I remember that I spoke in a halting stuttering manner as I began telling
him about what I was going through. It was hard for me to get words to come
out at first. But the more I talked and told him about how confused I was
about my sexuality. The easier it became for me to speak about the things I
wanted and needed to tell him about. However, as I told him about my inner
most private feelings I just couldn't bring myself to lift my head up. I
kept my head down and vacantly stared down at the floor in front of me. To
be honest I was afraid to look over at him. I was afraid because I didn't
want to see his eyes or look upon his face and see any expressions he might
make like frowning or the raising of his eyebrows in shock as I told him
about the sick kinds of sexual fantasies I had towards girls. When I spoke
about the sexually arousing effect women's nylons and lingerie had on me I
scrunched up my shoulders and felt my torso tremble and shake. I was so
embarrassed speaking of those things to him that I expected him at any
minute to jump up from his chair and order me out of his house. But that
didn't happen. Once I finished telling him about my sexual longings towards
girls I took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. Then I began telling him
about my secret sexual desires to dress myself up in nylons and lingerie so
I could feel girly and share myself with other boys and most desirous of
all share myself physically and emotionally with older mature adult men.

It was extremely hard for me to talk about the sexual fantasies I had about
feeling girly and wanting to engage in homosexual acts with men. But I
finally managed to tell him everything I had been fantasizing about ever
since I hit puberty. I told him how at times I felt as if I was nothing
more than a walking talking erection. I told him I got horny and got
erections in the most embarrassing places like on the school bus, in class,
in front of the TV, at night in bed, and when I bathed. I told him how I
touched myself when I was horny, and how I squeezed and pulled on myself
when I had a hard-on. I told him that touching myself felt good but no
matter how much I pulled on myself or squeezed myself tightly in my hands I
never found or discovered sexual relief. I told him that I was hopelessly
confused about how I felt about myself and that I was deeply ashamed of
what I felt inside. I told him the truth that I just couldn't stop
fantasizing about queering off with other boys and men and that no matter
how hard I struggled to let those kinds of feelings and sexual desires go I
just couldn't stop thinking that way. I know I wept at times as I opened up
to him and bless his soul Father Hornbeck patiently waited for me to get
everything out that I needed to. Then when I finally finished telling him
about my homosexual fantasies that's when I reached down to my side and
picked up my little book bag.

"The worst of it Father is my messed up feelings caused me to steal from my
mom," I told him. "I couldn't stop myself," I said and that's when I opened
up my bag and drew out mom's nylon stockings and garter belt. "I took these
from mom's dresser drawer," I told him. "I took them, stole them so I could
sneak off and put them on and be nasty with myself. But when I tried to put
them on I just couldn't do it because I felt so ashamed and disgusted with
myself." I remember after telling him that that I slowly straightened up
and set them down on the top of the end table. "Can you help me?" is what I
asked him. "Can you give me absolution for my sins and help me end my
sinful ways?" I stopped talking then and I sat there waiting for him to
speak. The silence in his living room was deafening and I jerked
involuntarily when he sat up in his chair and slowly rose to his feet.

For an instant I thought this was when he was going to ask me to leave his
home and cast me out. A feeling of dread descended on me and I began
weeping again. But then I heard him talking to me. "Don't fret Manny," he
said in a very gentle tone. "Don't cry. Dry your eyes and know and accept
that Jesus loves you no matter what or how you feel. Let our Savior into
your heart and he'll heal the pain you feel and with his love and
compassion he will calm the emotional turmoil you are experiencing my
son. Believe me Manny," he said to me. "Believe me when I tell you that
Jesus loves you and in his loving embrace he will absolve you and make you
whole. So calm yourself. Dry your eyes and wait here for me while I go and
close the yard gate. We'll need to visit some more about the things you've
confessed to me and it's best if no one interrupts us. So let me excuse
myself and I'll go and close the yard gate. If you need to use the bathroom
or want another glass of water please feel free to get up and do what you
need to and I'll be right back." Then he turned and went out to close the
yard gate.

When Father Hornbeck went outside I did get up and found his
bathroom. Completing my business I washed my hands and opened the bathroom
door and saw him in the kitchen standing in front of his refrigerator. "I'm
grabbing something cool to drink as well," he said and he brought out a
bottle of beer. Using an opener he removed the bottle cap and raised the
beer to his mouth and he took several deep drinks. When he lowered his
bottle I noticed it was half empty but I said nothing and went back into
the living room and returned to where I had been sitting on his
couch. Mom's nylons and garter belt were stilled piled atop the end table
right where I had set them and it was hard for me to not stare over at them
as I sat back down. When Father Hornbeck came back and sat down in his easy
chair something weird and unexpected happened.

Dropping into his chair like he did created a rush of air. That rush of air
wafted over to me and it carried the scent of mom's nylons to my nose. The
scent of her nylon stockings caused me to shiver and I felt ashamed of
myself because I found the scent given off by the nylon material heady and
intoxicating to take in. For a moment I felt like I had on the Friday when
I first took her nylons from her dresser drawer. My breathing grew rapid
and I felt myself responding sexually. As my little cock began to harden I
squeezed my thighs tightly together in an effort to hide what was happening
to me. I remember feeling horrible about myself because there I was trying
to seek absolution for what I'd been doing and right there in front of the
priest I was getting a thrill off of the very things I was trying to get
away from.

I know Father Hornbeck saw me shiver but he didn't speak towards
it. Instead he cleared his throat and then asked the following. "Tell me
Manny. When you imagine yourself dressing up in nylon stockings and
lingerie and you see yourself lying next to another boy or adult man. Do
you actually see a face that belongs to the boy or man you are imagining
yourself being with?"

For a moment I had to think about his question before I could respond to
it. "No," I replied. "I can't think of a single instance when I saw the
face of either a boy or a man."

"That's interesting," he said to me. Then he asked, "do you ever picture
the body of the person your with?" Again I had to think about what he asked
before telling him no that I didn't see anyone I fantasized about queering
off with. "So you can't actually physically describe either the boy or the
man you see yourself with."

"No I can't," I answered him back. I really had thought about what he asked
and I remember how surprised I was when I realized that whenever I imagined
myself being with a boy or an adult man that I never had actually pictured
what my male fantasy lovers looked like. Oh I could see blurred outlines of
a body well enough but I'd never actually saw much concerning the physical
details of a person. If I imagined myself with a boy then I more or less
saw a body like my own, young and slim. When I imagined myself with an
older man then the body structure for the image I imagined was heavier,
fuller, and larger than myself. The only thing I saw clearly in those
fantasies was myself. I saw the stockings and garter belt I wore or other
lingerie items I wanted to see myself dressed in. Hell I could easily see
myself in minute detail as I welcomed my male lovers into my arms and lay
with them or lay under them. Every time I created a homosexual fantasy I
saw how I opened my stocking legs and spread myself apart to give them
access to my open willing body. Those things were easy to imagine for
me. But actually picturing what my male lovers looked like was something
that I didn't do and I realized that truth only after Father Hornbeck asked
me about it.

"How about when you imagine yourself being with a girl?" he asked me after
a moment. "Can you see their faces?"

"Yes I can," is what I told him. Then I said that, "when I fantasize about
girls its easy to see them. I see their face, their bodies, every part of
them."

"Do you see what they're wearing?" he asked.

"Oh yeah," I answered and I remember that I smiled as I said it because
just confirming that I could see what a woman had on when I fantasized
about them immediately called up an image in my head and when that happened
I instantly felt self-conscious about it. I recall feeling embarrassed over
what he was asking me but I fought though those feelings and told him that
whenever I imagine myself being with a girl that I saw everything I
fantasized about. I told him I could clearly see their nylons, the garter
belt or bustier I imagined them wearing, and if I wanted it that way that I
could see them wearing a nylon camisole or nylon dress slip. I also told
him that I could even see the color of the garments I pictured them in like
darkly tanned colored of black colored hose, or a red, white, or black
garter belt or bustier, and white, black, or even at times a buttercream
colored camisoles or dress slips. "When I imagine myself with a girl I can
see what she looks like, and what she feels like. But most of all I can see
her wearing nylons and things." At that point he asked me to describe any
one of the women I fantasized about and without hesitation I did. The first
person I described to him was actually a girl my own age, Valarie Hassel, a
girl I'd basically grown up knowing my entire life. Valarie was my own
age. I had several classes with her during my freshman year in high
school. And to be honest I also had a pretty decent crush on her especially
after she'd filled out. She was a very attractive girl with long straight
light brown hair, had a dazzling smile, and she was a very cheerful young
girl. When I completed telling Father Hornbeck about her, describing to him
how I pictured her dressed up for me and what kind of sex I fantasized us
having with each other. He then asked me if there was any particular type
of adult woman I fantasized about. And once more without any hesitation I
named someone, Mrs. Sedgwick, Irma Sedgwick, my art teacher. She, I told
him was one of my favorite women to fantasize about because Mrs. Sedgwick
was, like Valarie, someone I physically interacted with during school
days. I tried to explain why I fantasized about Mrs. Sedgwick and in doing
so I had to tell him about how she was always wearing dresses, nylons, and
high heels. I told him that one of the things I loved doing in class was to
just sit there in my desk and imagine myself touching her nylon stocking
legs and feet. I told him I loved the color of nylons she would wear,
sometimes, most of time, her color of choice was to wear brown colored
stockings ranging from tan ones to really dark colored brown ones. But then
there were days when she wore black ones and occasionally a color I could
only describe as copper. I told him that I absolutely loved it whenever I
saw her remove one of her high heels in order to rub and massage her
feet. When she did that I told him that I would stare at her feet and
marvel at how the reinforced toe and heel of her nylons seemed to just
perfectly frame her pretty feet. I told him that whenever I got a chance to
see her massage her feet through her nylon hose that I'd have this huge
desire well up in me and I'd ache inside wishing with all my heart that I
could be the one touching, rubbing and massaging her feet.

After I finished telling him these things I remember he asked me how I felt
towards Valarie and Mrs. Sedgwick and I flippantly replied, horny. But then
I followed that with a more serious response and I told him that I felt
very much like I imagined a man might feel whenever he looked at attractive
girls. I told him I wanted them sexually but not in a forceful manner where
I would simply take them and pleasure myself. No, how I said it was to tell
him that I wanted them but in a way that was more loving and more deeply
felt emotionally than just acting upon a physical desire. I wasn't sure if
I managed to explain myself very well but he did nod towards me, which I
took to mean that he knew what my actual intended meaning was. For time
both of us were silent. When he did speak it was to tell me that he was
pretty sure what it was that was driving me to create the kinds of sexual
fantasies I was making up.

"I think what we need to do is we need to fully explore this matter so we
can discover together why you feel as you do. But its quite hot in here so
lets retire to the basement. Its cool downstairs and we'll both be more
comfortable if we continue this visit down there. So lets move. You go
ahead and go down and I'll be right behind you. Before I come down I want
to telephone your parents and let them know you're here visiting with
me. I'll tell them I've invited you to have supper with me and will spend
the evening visiting so they won't get worried wondering about where you
are and why your not at home." When he said this to me I immediately became
concerned that he was going to tell mom and dad what my real reason was for
being there. But before I could ask if that was what he intended to do he
assured me that he would make up a completely innocent excuse where he
alone was responsible for my presence. What he said to me, and I've never
forgotten it was, "I'll tell them I wanted to have you over so I could
minister to a young man who is seeking godly things."

Hearing him say that relieved my anxiety and as I started to get up he also
told me, "take your mother's things with you Manny. I'll need them as we
visit about what's going on with you. And you need to know that I keep a
bed downstairs that I sleep on when it's hot like it is today. The only
other piece of furniture I have down there is another chair like this one
here," and he gestured to his easy chair. "Please make yourself comfortable
on the bed and I'll be down just as soon as I finish calling your
parents. And don't forget to turn on the basement light at the head of the
stairs before you go down okay." Trusting that he knew what was best for me
I got up and scooped up mom's things in my hands and off I went.

Father Hornbeck's basement was much cooler than it was upstairs. As he told
me to do I turned on the light at the head of the stairs and walked down
the steps. Reaching the bottom of the steps I remember looking around to
take in the sight of the basement and in front of me pushed up against the
wall I saw the bed he'd told me about. It was double sized one like I had
at home and the mattress on the bedspring was covered with a single white
box sheet. I saw his other easy chair next to the bed and I noticed he had
a large wooden closet standing against the basement wall. I also saw a
small desk next to the closet with a phonograph on it and a white porcelain
bowl with water in it. The other things I noticed as I started to walk over
towards the bed was a large piece of fabric hanging like a curtain on the
wall directly across from the it. On the ceiling directly above the bed was
another piece of fabric hanging from the rafters. I didn't know why he had
those things up but I didn't really think too much about it. When I reached
the bed I sat down on edge of the mattress. It was a fairly springy thing
and I bounced myself up and down a few times and listened to the bedsprings
squeak as I did so. I wasn't sure where I should set mom's things down. So
because holding them in my lap wasn't probably what he wanted me to do I
set them down next to me on the bed. It wasn't until I put her things down
that I finally noticed the color of her stockings. When I took the things I
was so intent on just getting them that I'd grabbed them without really
looking at them. However, as I set them down next to me I was surprised to
realize that her nylons were colored a very deep chocolate color. They were
the same dark hue that Mrs. Sedgwick often wore. I can't explain why I
noticed this only then but I did. And I remember that as I sat there on
Father Hornbeck's bed I saw that mom's stockings were the reinforced heel
and toe kind, again just like Mrs. Sedgwick's and honestly the style I
liked the best. The white bed sheet created a remarkable highlighting
effect for the chocolate coloring, an effect that to me seemed to deepen
the dark hue of the material. I can't explain how but the contrast between
the two colors seemed to make mom's nylons appear even softer in
substance. As I looked down at them I couldn't help but think to myself
that they looked incredibly soft and luxurious. Why I wondered were these
things so powerfully attractive to me? Why did I covet them so? I was still
staring down at them marveling at how soft and smooth they looked to me
when I heard Father Hornbeck coming down the stairs. "How are you doing
Manny," he asked me as he arrived at the bottom step and began walking over
towards me.

"I'm fine," I answered him and I had to force myself to look up and away
from mom's nylons. I told him that I was feeling much better after telling
him about myself and I knew I was lying saying that to him. I was lying
because yes I felt better for having unburdened myself. But I still felt
all of the intense sexual desires I had shared with him upstairs because
mom's nylons were making me feel horny.

"That's wonderful," he replied as he came over and reached down to squeeze
me on the shoulder. "I'm so glad your feeling better," and instead of
stepping over to the chair and sitting down which is what I expected him to
do, he dropped down next to me on the mattress. "Please," he spoke to me as
he sat right beside me. "Kick off your shoes and lie down. Take your
t-shirt off and ball it up so you can use it like a pillow. We still have a
lot to discuss and I want you to be comfortable." Without hesitation I did
as he instructed without question. Off came my shoes and socks and I pulled
my t-shirt over my head and balled it up and placed it in my lap. Then I
reached down and picked up mom's things intending to move them over towards
him but when he saw me grab her things he told me to keep them with me. He
said to hang on to them because we were going to need them as we continued
our visit. So I laid down on his bed and set mom's things down next to me.

Our conversation began with him telling me to relax and just respond
honestly to him, so I said I would. He began talking to me then and he
started by reviewing the things I'd said to him upstairs. What he told me
was he believed he knew the reason why I fantasized sexually about other
boys and men. He said my homosexual fantasies were all based on my inner
desire to express my femininity, my girlyness he said borrowing the word I
used to describe and label my homosexual desires. He told me that all boys
at my age experienced these kinds of feelings when they went through
puberty and their bodies started changing. He assured me that it was
actually quite normal for me to feel the way I felt inside. He explained it
by telling me that when boys and girls go through puberty and their bodies
change that puberty was also the time young people began to establish and
at the same time question their gender identity and their sexual
orientation. I have a very vivid memory of him telling me that sex and
gender was biological, meaning boys were boys and girls were girls and we
were this way because of our sex organs. As he spoke I remember I just
listened to him. He went on about how boys and girls during and after
puberty discovered naturally their sexual attraction to the opposite
sex. He reinforced that statement by pointedly telling me that I too was
first and foremost sexually attracted to girls and said he and I could both
tell this because of the sexual fantasies I had shared with him that
day. But he said, and I did notice the weight of that but he uttered. But
he said as boys developed one of the things which influenced their
development was a thing he called sexual dominance. This he said was all
about learning how boys instinctively assumed a dominant role towards
women.

He told me that the sexual role of a man with a woman was that the man was
the woman's protector, her provider. He said a man's sexual role was to
plant the seed of humanity inside a woman and that the role of the woman
was to receive his seed and nurture it and make it grow. The physical act
of sex he said was a part of this sexual dominance he was trying to explain
to me. Men he said are aggressors, they take a woman; women are submissive,
they receive men. He told me that the bible said the same about this,
specifically teaching us that man is over woman. He said a woman submits
herself to a man and from that submission she gives a man pleasure both
physically and emotionally.

I was basically following along with his telling, believing what he said to
me. He told me that in my sexual fantasies with girls and the things I
imagined they wore, the types of things I found sexually attractive and
physically exciting, women's nylons, women's lingerie, women's high heeled
shoes, those things he said were attractive to me because, as I had told
him earlier, I viewed these things as the essence of female. He said my
attraction to women's intimates was simply a result of my natural sexual
attraction that I felt towards women. Essentially he told me that all my
sexual fantasies about women wearing these things was, for me he said, just
how I celebrated the female, the sacred feminine. He told me the feminine
is submissive, she is soft, she is comfort, and she is nurturing. He tied
things together from what I told him I fantasized about being with
girls. He said all of the things I found sexually attractive, nylons,
lingerie, and high heels. They were things that for me only emphasized the
sacred feminine. He told me that their presence in my sexual fantasies
helped display it and enhance it and celebrate it because this is how I
viewed these things. He said how I felt about these things didn't
necessarily mean that I was being immoral or being sinful in feeling
sexually attracted to them. In fact he told me I was being very mature in
bringing these things into my sexual fantasies I had about girls. He said
young boys unlike adult men only imagine obtaining a quick sexual release
from girls. When he told me all of this it really did feel like a
tremendous weight was taken from me. I finally had an answer for why I felt
like I did about women's things and it was such a relief. I began to feel
good about myself and I was positive the Father Hornbeck was absolutely
right about me. I recall that I had been nodding my head in assent of what
he spoke to me about that day and I remember how much better I felt as I
lay there on his bed totally enthralled by what he told me that day.

"You're a perfectly normal and healthy boy Manny," he had told me. "What
you feel inside towards girls, how you feel about them, is completely
normal." But then just as I felt good about myself Father Hornbeck wreaked
it by speaking to me about my homosexual girly fantasies. To be honest as
he explained things to me about why I felt as I did and still do about
girls and their sexy intimate apparel. I had completely forgotten about the
other half of my issues that I had come to see him about, my homosexual
fantasies and the sexual cravings I had about getting girly with other
males. So when he brought them up right after making me feel so good I felt
like I had been slapped in the face and all my good feelings about myself
instantly evaporated. I can only believe that the expression that must have
been upon my face when Father Hornbeck brought up my homosexual fantasies
had to have been obvious. I mean I was devastated to be reminded about
this. To be honest, at that moment I really didn't want to talk about it
anymore. I can't explain why, I just didn't want to. Yet, that's what he
talked to me about next.

He started by telling me that the bible teaches that a physical sexual
relationship between two men was sinful. He said that homosexuality was a
sin and that people who engaged in such vile acts were dammed. The Kingdom
of Heaven was forbidden to them he said and I was absolutely crushed to
hear him speak that way. You see what I took from what he was saying was
that I was dammed to hell and that I would never get into heaven because I
wanted to be girly with another man. I wanted to dress up like a naughty
girl and be a naughty girl and let another older man use me sexually like I
wanted to use a naughty girl. I wanted to lay with a man and feel him
touching me and allow him to sexually enjoy my body and the soft sensuous
silky smooth things I would dress in. My homosexual desire to give my body
to another man and allow him to use me like men sexually use women was, as
I understood what Father Hornbeck said, was my damnation.

I had tears in my eyes and I turned my head and couldn't bring myself to
look over at him as he spoke to me about homosexuals and the punishment God
would visit upon them for their sinful behavior. He said a man mounting and
using another man anally was ghastly and wicked. For one man to touch
another man with his hands, to use his mouth and spill his seed so the
other man swallowed it, or to spill his seed upon another mans body was to
go against God's teachings. I remember I was so caught up in my own
feelings of self-pity that I sort of tuned him out. I was feeling so sorry
for myself that I had to do a double-take when I thought I heard him tell
me that it wasn't actually my fault that I felt the way I did towards
men. I remember that I asked him to repeat what he'd said because I wasn't
sure that I had heard him right. He had been talking about something I
hadn't heard of before that was in the bible and he'd said that one reason
I felt more feminine than most boys was because my soul, the essence of my
being, was female in nature and not male. What he said after I asked him to
repeat himself was that there was this thing called a Guf. This Guf thing
contained all the souls of man and that when a child is born an angel
reaches into it and brings out a child's soul and gives it to them. He told
me that the significance of this Guf is that each person who receives a
soul that it makes people important and it gives them a unique and special
role that they must fulfill in their life.

What he said to me was that my soul, what I had received from the Guf, that
it was female. He told me that certain boys are given a female soul even
though they're not born females. God, he told me is never wrong in what he
sets upon us. If God granted me to possess a female soul then it wasn't for
me to try and understand the reason why he had done this thing. Instead it
was my task to learn to accept his gift. It was this reasoning that he used
to explain why I felt as I did towards wanting to wear girly things and why
I experienced such sexual yearnings to share my body with men. He said that
it wasn't my fault that I felt as I did towards men. He told me that
understanding my homosexual desires was tied to understanding my
femininity, the sacred feminine of my soul.

I remember how he pronounced to me that the sacred feminine was within
me. It was this femininity I felt that explained why I wished to talk so
salaciously about having sex with women with my friends. Unlike the male
soul my female soul was responsible for why I cared and focused so much
more on talking about sharing heart felt emotional connections with a girl
during sex rather than simply just taking them and depositing my seed
inside of them. Additionally it was my femininity that he said made me care
so much about incorporating pretty intimate apparel, things designed
specifically to show off and accentuate the female form, into fantasizing
about having sexual encounters with women. He told me that I was only
expressing what I honestly felt inside about my own self. My feminine soul
he told me was only content and at peace when I allowed myself to express
it emotionally and physically. So once he explained that to me he connected
all that with my homosexual feelings.

"To share yourself with a man," he told me. "To be the essence of a man and
share that essence with another man is by God's decree sinful and
unclean. But you Manny," he told me. "You don't possess the essence of a
male within you. You possess the sacred female, a feminine essence." He
told me that until that day, that moment during our talk, that I hadn't
known this truth about myself. Not knowing this is why I felt so terrible
about my truest and deepest sexual feelings. He went on to tell me that my
homosexual fantasies weren't very homosexual if understood within the
context of my feminine soul. He said when I had described to him how I
dressed myself for a man, and how I opened my body up to him, picturing
myself beneath a man, assuming the submissive position of a female. Those
things he told me were evidence of my sacred femininity. He informed that
what I had been doing was I was rejecting God's and the angel's gift, my
gift lifted from the Guf, the treasury of souls.

"What you believe is a demon within you my son," he told me, "is not a
demon. What is within you is angelic, it is sacred and it is love." When I
heard him declare that to me I honestly did not know how to react. I mean,
I felt confused about how he explained things to me because one moment I
felt as if he was telling me I was going to hell because I was sexually
attracted to men, and then the next moment I heard him telling me that my
sexual attractions towards women's intimates and my homosexual desires were
suddenly divinely sanctioned graces given to me at my moment of birth all
because of the kind of soul I possessed. My head I admit was swimming as I
struggled to understand all that he'd been telling me. I remember that I
cupped my forehead in the palms of my hands. I was trying hard to sort out
what he said when I heard him tell me that he was going to reveal the truth
to me about myself and my feelings. But he said in order to make that
happen I had to trust him and trust in him to do as he asked of me. I had
no idea what he was going to ask me to do or what he wanted me to do. But
earlier that day I had promised myself that no matter what I had to do to
receive absolution for my sins. I had told myself that I would do whatever
needed to be done. So taking a deep breath because I was suddenly beginning
to feel nervous I swallowed and nodded to him and I told him I would do
whatever he asked and whatever it would take in order to make myself well.

That's when he told me that I was being a good boy and he said to me to
just trust him because he knew what he was doing. After that I remember he
got up and I watched him move to stand at the foot of the bed. As I
remained lying full length on his bed he looked down at me and said, "As
I've told you already. Your soul is that of the sacred female. This is why
you are so attracted to female things. Your innate femininity is the root
of your attraction to women's nylons and their lingerie and high heel
shoes. The sacred female is within you and this is also why you sexually
fantasize about sharing your young taut body with older men. The female
within is seeking the dominance of the male. It is questing for recognition
and release. I know it's difficult for you to process everything that I've
told you so far. But I believe what you really need in order to settle the
emotional distress you've suffered from for so long is you actually need to
have proof of what I've told you is true. So in order to obtain that proof
I'm going to have you do some things. Now be prepared because the things
I'll have you do are going to help you finally allow yourself to freely
express and enjoy the sacred feminine within you. So don't be frightened or
afraid of what I say. Just close your eyes and listen."

Anxiously nervous, if there is such a state of being, is how I felt then. I
had no idea what Father Hornbeck intended to do in order to prove to me
that what he'd been telling me about myself was true. My head was swimming
with thoughts that I couldn't organize or keep straight. I believed I
understood him when he told me that my sexual feelings towards girls,
wishing them to wear nylon stockings and soft silky lingerie during sex was
normal for boys to desire. So that issue as far as I was concerned had been
dealt with. But the issues I had about getting girly, about wanting to have
homosexual sex with other boys and men that issue didn't feel to me as if
had been settled. Oh I understood him when he'd talked to me about
possessing a female soul and all. But what I was still confused about was
how he was going to prove those things to me and do so in a way that I
could accept the fact that I could, without committing a sin, be feminine
in my feelings and still be a boy.

I remember I had my eyes shut as he spoke again. He told me to relax, to
listen to the sound of his voice. I don't really remember much of what he
was saying to me but I do remember how comforting the sound of his voice
was. In a very short time I was totally relaxed. At some point I let my
arms drop down to my sides and I was just laying there when I heard him
softly tell me that he wanted me to remove my pants and my underwear. At
first when I heard him say that to me I nearly panicked. For the briefest
moment I honestly thought about jumping up from his bed and just running
away from him because what he wanted me to do was undress and be naked in
front of him. Now, I may have been a virgin and I may have been confused
about things. But even I knew that undressing myself and allowing a
catholic priest to view my nakedness probably couldn't be interpreted as
somehow properly ministering to an emotionally confused young man. So I
hesitated. I didn't have the slightest idea why he wanted me to pull my
pants and underwear down and show myself to him because I couldn't see how
getting naked in front of a priest was going to somehow allow me to accept
that I had a feminine soul. But I did hear him softly call to me and say
coaxing words to me to trust him and just do what he asked because if I did
I would find the love that resided within me. So with my eyes tightly
closed I allowed myself to do as he asked. I slowly reached down with both
hands and I undid my pants button. I remember I had to take a deep breath
before I could bring myself to unzip my jeans and then lay them open. After
doing that I slide my fingers up under the waistband of my underwear and
then over to my hips. Once I placed my hands on my hips I scooted my knees
up and raised my butt up off the mattress. I remember I whispered the word
trust and then I pushed my jeans and underwear down.

When my things were down as far as I could push them I dropped back down to
the bed and bent my knees up and in towards me so I could remove them. Once
they were off I drew them over to the right side of the bed and simply
dropped them down to the floor. Although I was feeling embarrassed and
nervous I straighten my legs and stretched out full length on the bed. I
tried to cover myself with my hands but Father Hornbeck asked me not to. He
said I should just rest my hands along my sides and lie still. He kept
telling me to relax and not feel embarrassed or nervous. I tried hard to
remain still but when I felt him press a warm wet cloth around my right
foot it startled me and I flinched. What was he doing?

As I lay there he told me that he was blessing me by the act of washing my
feet. He told me that Jesus had done the same with his disciples and he
told me he was washing my sins away and cleansing my body and my soul. He
told me the act was special and it showed his, Father Hornbeck's,
humility. He said Jesus's teaching about foot washing was an act of
hospitality as well, so as I felt him finish wiping my feet with the cloth,
I heard him wet it again. After he wet the cloth again he told me that the
mark of extreme humility and hospitality was to bathe the one receiving the
foot washing. He said he was going to bathe me and asked me to sit up. I
did so and he proceeded to give me what I later came to know as a sponge
bath. He wiped my face, my neck, my back, my arms, my chest, my belly, then
moved to my ankles and then up both my legs until only my pelvis and rump
remained untouched. I thought that since my crotch and butt would be
considered by him as to intimate of places for him to place his hands that
my sponge bath was complete. But he surprised me and told me to roll over
so he could wash my backside. I did as he asked and when he laid his hands
and the wet cloth on my butt cheeks I accidently let out a satisfied sigh
because his touch was so gentle yet firm as well. He thoroughly scrubbed my
ass cheeks and yes he did wipe me up and down my crack and on my little
hole. As I felt him press down and wipe me clean I had to admit to myself
that I liked being touched back there. It did feel good and it felt nasty
as well. In fact as he was finishing cleaning my backside I felt a stirring
in my little cock. His touching me was beginning to give me an erection.

Feeling myself getting hard and embarrassed because of it. I felt him take
his hands off of me and heard him tell me to role over. He told me it was
time to wipe my front and I felt him lay a hand on my right hip and gently
with a small tug, encourage me to role over. I was hesitant to do so
because I didn't want him to see that I had responded sexually to his
bathing me. But as he tugged on me again I took a deep breath and rolled
over onto my back. I suppose I was expecting him to admonish me for getting
excited and showing it by getting semi-hard. I did hear him mutter a soft
"oh my" when he saw my condition but other than that he said nothing. When
I felt him place the wet cloth on my cock I couldn't help or stop myself
from responding fully to his touch. Instantly I became solidly erect as he
wiped me down there and I brought my left arm to my face and covered my
eyes with it. I was ashamed of how I was responding to his hands on me down
there. Yet even my feelings of shame couldn't prevent me from honestly
telling myself that having him fondle me like he did felt incredibly good.

The more he touched me, sliding the wet cloth over me and up and down along
my hardened shaft, the more excited I felt and my breathing started to
speed up. Without warning I felt my thighs begin to tremble and I heard
myself uttering soft moaning sounds of pure pleasure. Now, I must confess
that until that moment in Father Hornbeck's basement, no one, and I mean no
one had ever touched me before. Oh I'd held myself a thousand times as I
fantasized about fucking girls or men but under my own hands, ignorant
hands at age 14, I'd never experience the kinds of sensations I was
having. My body had never responded like it began to that day. The sheer
pleasure of being fondled by another person had only ever been a dream. But
on that day the dream became a reality. As I felt him wrap his fingers
around my hard cock and slowly side the cloth up and then back down my
harden shaft I opened and spread my legs apart. I felt myself sucking in my
stomach as spasms of pleasure forced me to thrust my pelvis up and down as
if I were pumping myself into his hand. I heard myself moaning as I felt
this incredible fantastic thing, a tingling sensation that seemed to center
itself in the head of my cock. I remember gasping out loud as I built up to
my very first orgasm. I was literally going to cum and because I was still
a virgin and didn't know what cumming was, what was happening to me down
there scared me but felt so good that I remember feeling light headed. Just
when I felt like I was going to explode Father Hornbeck stopped what he was
doing and took his hand away.

He stopped so suddenly and unexpectedly that I nearly began crying. I never
wanted him to stop touching me. I recall rolling my head back and forth
over and over again as I struggled to catch my breath and get my emotions
under control. I remember calling out "why" in a desperate manner wanting
him to tell me why he'd stopped touching me and as I lay on his bed I can
still remember how my entire body quivered and trembled. But eventually,
slowly, I began to calm down. My breathing slowed and my trembling
decreased. But my hard-on, that didn't go away. Down in front of me my
little cock stood up and out in front of me and when I finally opened my
eyes I lifted my head and looked down at myself and I know I must have
smiled to myself as I saw my poor little guy just throbbing and
trembling. I had been so close to having an orgasm that my balls ached. God
I wanted to know why Father Hornbeck had stopped stroking on me. Why had he
gotten me so worked up and then suddenly stop?

Man I was so caught up by what he'd done to me that I had to force myself
to pay attention to him. He was calling to me, trying to get me calm back
down. For a moment I remember I nearly let myself ignore him and I began
reaching for my hard little cock but I heard him call out "don't" in a very
commanding tone and I stopped myself. It took a few moments to get my head
clear and when I did I looked up at him and noticed he was standing along
side the bed.

When he saw I was aware of him again he started telling me what he wanted
me to do and I couldn't believe what he said to me. At first I thought I
misunderstood what he said but when he repeated what he wanted me to do I
felt shocked. At first I just shook my head no, then I heard myself whisper
the word. But he wouldn't take no for an answer and just repeated what he
wanted me to do and although I was reluctant to do what he wanted I felt
that I had to comply with his wish. So as he asked me to do I sat up on his
bed and moved to sit on the edge of the mattress and let myself rest my
feet on the floor.

Extremely nervous and trembling I remember sitting there with my little
cock all hard and sticking out in front of me. I was trying to understand
why I had so readily agreed to undress myself and allow him to wash me. I
was amazed at myself for being so willingly obedient and submissive to his
directions. Things had happened so fast. It felt so weird how easily he'd
gotten me to do as he wished. Yet I have to admit that I was also secretly
happy to do whatever he wanted me to do because allowing him to control me
as he had done was deliciously thrilling. I mean I had no idea when I
agreed to go downstairs and continue our visit that I was going to end up
naked and rock hard on his bed. But there I was sitting on his bed naked
and rock hard.

As I sat on the edge of the bed I heard him tell me that I was being such a
good boy by doing all that he asked of me. The horny haze as I've come to
recall that moment is actually hard for me to recall with clarity. I mean I
remember doing all that he asked and I remember him telling me I was being
a good boy. But what gets fuzzy to remember clearly is how one moment I was
immersed in reflecting upon how I ended up in his bed and then the next
moment I suddenly became frighteningly aware of Father Hornbeck's
nakedness. As I recall things, I was sitting on the edge of his bed and
then the next moment I kind of went blank and then in an instant I finally
realized that he was standing in front of me and he was naked. When he
undressed I didn't know. But he was naked standing in front of me and I
couldn't help myself from doing what I did and that was I looked directly
at his crotch.

I think at the time that I might have been expecting to see him all hard
and stiff like I was but he wasn't. His cock was flaccid and hung down in
front of him. For a moment I couldn't take my eyes off of it. As I stared
at it I remember thinking that it looked very pretty to me. Like me he was
circumcised and I recall thinking that his member was something I wanted to
reach out and touch. I wanted to feel it in my hand so I could grip it and
stroke it. His cock was fascinating to me. And for the first time in my
life I actually imagined myself taking a man's cock into my mouth. I
experienced an incredible urge to just lean over and put my mouth on it and
take it in and suck on it like one sucks on a straw. In fact my mouth
actually watered at the thought of doing that. I couldn't believe I felt
that way and reacted like I did but I did.

I don't actually remember if I started to lean over towards him with the
intent to wrap my lips around his cock and hungrily take him in my
mouth. God I remember that his cock looked absolutely beautiful to me. It
wasn't hard, yet, but I couldn't take my eyes off of it. It was large, much
bigger than mine, and I was hard at the time. It was long and thick and I
desperately wanted to reach out and touch it and play with it. I wanted to
feel its weight in my hand. But I remember him telling me that it was time
for me to discover my sacred femininity and to do that what he ordered me
to do was take up my mom's garter belt and nylon stockings and put them
on. The tone of voice he used on me I found absolutely thrilling. He was in
charge of me and as a man he was telling me what he wanted me to do for him
and I suddenly realized that I wanted and needed to obey him and give him
what he wanted.

To be honest, I didn't actually put on mom's things all by myself. I didn't
because I didn't know how too. Oh I tried, believe me I did, but I was so
excited and shaking with such overpower emotion and anticipation of finally
dressing up in nylon stockings that I had the most difficult time. Taking
up mom's garter belt I tried to place it around my waist while I was still
sitting on the bed. Being a boy I automatically tried to affix the belt
clasp in front of me like you do with a regular belt but Father Hornbeck
stopped me before I could figure out how to put it on. I remember him
telling me to stand up and I immediately did so and then he told me to turn
around and I did. Once my back was towards him he stepped up to me and
taking my hands in his he brought my hands behind my back and then he took
the garter belt himself and clipped it together. Adjusting it to rest just
above my hips I heard him say that it was a perfect fit for me and then I
felt him put his finger tips on top of the belt and he traced them back
around me to my front. When his hands touched together in front of me just
above my swollen member I finally felt for the first time in my life
another person, a man, a priest no less, touch my stiff throbbing cock and
the sensations that shot through me made me gasp and literally tremble
violently throughout my pelvis area.

God it felt so good to feel one of his hands grip me around my shaft and I
groaned in pure pleasure as he squeeze me hard. I felt his other hand slide
over my pubic area and as he continued squeezing on me he gently cupped my
tight ball sack. Oh god I nearly fainted. My head was spinning as he
manipulated me with his hands. I never wanted it to end and I was totally
lost in the fantastic feelings I was experiencing. How long he actually
fondled me I don't know. But suddenly I felt him release me and heard him
tell me to sit back down on his bed. "Put your mom's nylon stockings on now
Manny," is what he said to me. "Put them on so I can release the sacred
feminine within you. I want you to experience the little naughty girl
within you and let her come out so I can pleasure her as I want her to
pleasure me."

I felt so horny and excited that all I remember about that moment is just
how much I wanted to do whatever he wanted me to do. So with trembling
hands I reached and picked up mom's stockings. Unknotting them I separated
them and I remember I wasn't sure how to actually put them on. I think I
tried to put the first one on like you do when you put on a simple sock but
when Father Hornbeck saw how clumsily I was trying to put my foot into the
stocking he stopped me and then helped me.

What I remember most about dressing in mom's things is the incredibly
fantastic thoroughly arousing sensations of sheer sexual arousal and desire
that washed over me as I finally experienced the sensual delight of pulling
real nylon stockings up on my legs. Oh man the sensations that exploded
throughout my body were and still are beyond my capacity to describe. The
sheer softness, the incredible clinginess of the material blew me away. It
felt like a million tiny glorious explosions were going off as waves of
goose bumps popped up all across my body as each stocking was pulled up my
leg. I couldn't believe what the nylon material was doing to me.

I remember that I was just leaking and dripping pre-cum from the head of my
swollen cock as Father Hornbeck clipped the front garter clasps onto to
each stocking top. The sight of the stockings on my legs, their chocolate
coloring, and the darker toned reinforced heel and toe welts and stocking
top welts looked so pretty to me. I wanted to reach down and touch my legs
and feet as I marveled at how tightly they encased me. I was amazed at how
the stockings made my legs and feet look. I mean at that single moment in
my life I finally understood and realized just what my sister and mom meant
when they had told me that I had fantastic legs. I felt so pretty and so
free having stockings on. I instinctively brought my legs and feet together
so I could experience what it felt like to slide my stockings together. Oh
my god when I did that though I reveled in sheer pleasure as I felt a
detonation of magnificent electric sensations that exploded though out my
body. I nearly swooned.

I was so amazed and thoroughly excited rubbing my stocking clad legs and
feet together that I felt like my poor hard throbbing little cock was going
to explode. Huge drops of pre-cum oozed out of me and as it began to run
down my swollen shaft Father Hornbeck reached down and with his fingertip
he gathered it up and ordered me to open my mouth. I immediately did so and
he fed my own pre-cum to me. I remember how he first coated my lips with
some of it before he inserted his finger into my mouth. I loved the slick,
smooth, watery taste of it and I greedily licked it from his finger and
swallowed it down. Man I was in ecstasy.

After I cleaned his finger off he ordered me to stand up and turn around
telling me he needed to get my stockings fastened in the back. I remember
standing up and turning around and he expertly and quickly clipped the
garter clasps onto the stocking welts and then he ordered me to climb onto
the bed and lie face down. I remember thinking to myself as I got onto the
bed and laid down that I told myself that if I died right then at that
moment that I would have gone with the biggest of smiles on my face. I mean
I was just so happy and felt so good that I thought that nothing, and I do
mean nothing could ever make me feel any better than what I did at that
moment. But as I was to soon discover, I was wrong about that because as I
lay there on the bed Father Hornbeck order me to look up at him. I turned
my head and looked up over my shoulder and when I did the first thing I
saw, the only thing I remember seeing at all, was his cock. Oh my God it
was huge. He was hard and his cock was magnificent. He was double my small
size and his member looked like a long, thick, missile to me. A masculine
missile that I instantly knew would soon be mine to hold, to squeeze, to
stroke, to take into my mouth and suck, and most desirous of all, to be
inside of me like a man fucks a woman. I wanted him and I wanted him to
fuck me with that massive cock of his and I wanted to please him by being a
nasty wicked girly-boy, his girly-boy.

As I stared at his cock I heard him speaking to me and he was telling me
how pretty I looked wearing mom's nylons and her garter belt. He told me
that I was a very pretty girly-boy and I listened to him tell me to look at
him and take in with my own eyes the sight of his own sexual arousal. "Look
what my naughty little girl has done to me," he said and I watched him
reach down and grab his hard cock in his hand and point it down at
me. "Your so pretty Manny," he said, "your so beautiful wearing your mom's
things," and then with that said he got onto the bed and resting himself
next to me by folding his legs underneath himself he reached down and
gently began to rub the bottom of my feet. I felt myself pump hard into the
mattress as he slowly began feeling my feet and legs and I moaned out loud
over and over again as he continued to touch and rub my stocking clad legs
while at the same time he bent down and began kissing and brushing his lips
softly along the back of my thighs.

My God I screamed into the mattress when I felt him grip my ass cheeks in
his hands and spread them apart before he lowered himself and sticking out
his tongue he began to lick and probe my hot little asshole. I gripped the
bed sheet hard with my hands as I felt him tongue fuck me in the ass. I
moaned and groaned in pure pleasure as his tongue pushed into me and I
called out, taking the Lord's name in vain as he pressed his lips around my
hole and softly sucked me back there. God I couldn't believe how wickedly
pleasurable it felt to get tongue fucked in the ass. Over and over I heard
myself calling out yes, yes, yes, as he worked me over. Then just when I
thought I couldn't take any more he stopped and ordered me to roll over,
telling me that it was time for me to discover what it felt like to have a
real man suck my cock.

I was so eager to do as he asked in my haste I nearly kneed him in the face
as I spun myself over onto my back. Then without any words, Father Hornbeck
lowered his head and I felt him take me in his mouth. The hot wetness of
his mouth stunned me. As he slide his lips down my shaft and then drew back
I couldn't help myself and I exploded into his mouth. My first orgasm was
unbelievably mind blowing. I thrust into his mouth and involuntarily I
grabbed the back of his head and balling my fingers up in his sparse hair
and held him tight as I pumped into him until at last I simply blacked out.

Yeah, I blacked out. I fainted and when I finally came to I felt Father
Hornbeck still on me, he'd hadn't released my cock from his mouth and he
was still sucking it sliding his tongue around me and keeping me hard and
stiff as I struggled to catch my breath and get my senses back.

After a time I remember he finally released me and when he did he leaned up
and kissed me full on the mouth. I kissed him back and wrapped my arms
round his neck. I felt so good and so soft inside as I felt him lift
himself and then climb over me. Instantly I spread my nylon clad legs apart
and gave him access to my body just as I had done a hundred times in my
sexual fantasies. I never wanted our moment together to end and I wrapped
my legs tightly around his waist as we continued kissing and I felt him use
one of his hands to grab his cock and place the head of that massive
beautiful monster up tight against my aching asshole. I wanted him in me. I
wanted to be fucked in the ass by my man but before he could insert himself
he broke our kiss and told me he needed to lube up before he could fuck
me. Quickly he left me on the bed and got up to retrieve some Vaseline from
the desk he had against the wall. I watched in fascination as he began to
slick up his cock. As I lay there watching him finish getting himself ready
he set the Vaseline jar down and then stepped over to the wall where the
drape was hanging. Using just one hand, his clean one, he pulled the drape
open and I realized as he walked it towards the head of the bed that behind
it was a large mirror. As he pulled the drape back I couldn't help myself
and looked into the mirror and I saw myself dressed in stockings and a
garter belt for the first time.

The sight of myself wearing mom's nylons and her garter belt was
thrilling. Oh god I felt myself getting even harder than ever as I took in
the sight of my stocking clad legs and feet. I thought I looked so pretty
and girly lying on Father Hornbeck's bed. I loved the sight of myself in
nylon stockings and I was overcome with emotion as I realized that the
curtain that hung over the bed was also getting pulled back and behind it
was another large mirror. Oh my god, what a dream come true. I have always
known that I'm a very visual person. When it comes to sex, male or with a
female. I love looking at myself, or a woman all dressed up in nylons and
sexy lingerie because that only adds to my sense of pleasure. As I gazed
upon myself Father Hornbeck returned to the bed and climbed up on top of
me. Once again he bent down and kissed me on the mouth and I opened myself
up to him, spreading my legs wide and willingly allowed him nestle himself
on top me and once again I wrapped my legs around his waist. As I felt him
again put the head of his hard cock up tight against my asshole I opened up
my eyes and stared up the sight of us being reflected in the mirror over
the bed. As he pushed into me it hurt. I felt the head of his cock stretch
me apart and I cried and moaned in both pain and pleasure as slowly, but
steadily and unceasingly he slide inside of me.

God it hurt taking him in. At first my instinct was to squeeze down hard
and try to stop him from going in but I heard him mumble to me as we
continued kissing to relax and just open myself up to him. I tried to do as
he asked and I felt myself beginning to cry as the head of his cock moved
past my hole and began going inside me. The farther in he sunk himself the
more it hurt but I didn't want him to stop. In fact I distinctly remember
gripping him ever and ever more tightly with my legs trying to pull him
into me until at long last he'd sunk himself into my ass as far as he could
go. Then as I lay there under him still weeping but so happy to feel a real
man's cock buried up into my tight little ass I began to whisper to him to
fuck me. Fuck me I whispered over and over again. And so he did. He began
slowly drawing back only a tiny bit until I got more and more comfortable
having him in me. When I finally felt all the pain of being ass fucked go
away he began to really thrust into me, drawing himself all the way back
then driving himself down and into me. Over and over he thrust and as he
did I once again felt myself building up to another orgasm.

I don't know how long he fucked me but both us managed to achieve climax at
the same time. He exploded into me shooting off deep inside my ass and I
spilled my seed between our bellies. Oh God it was fantastic. I remember
what made my second orgasm even more pleasurable than my first is I was
watching us fucking in the mirror hanging over the bed. And as I moaned and
groaned in climax I never once took my eyes off of my nylon clad legs and
feet. I was so happy that day.

At age 14 I lost my virginity to a Catholic Priest and I did so by reveling
in getting and being girly. It was the single most incredible moment in my
life. Under the touch of his hands, held and encircled by his arms I
surrendered to every single inner most sexual desire I had for so long
dreamed about. Under his artful sexual tutelage Father Hornbeck taught me
how to be the girly-boy I had only ever fantasized about being. I lovingly
obeyed every single direction he gave me concerning how I could best
sexually please a man. I learned how to jack-off a man's cock and use both
my hand and my hot mouth to increase the size and power of an orgasm. He
showed me, taught me how to suck a man's cock, how to use my tongue and
lips to bring a man to climax. And he taught me how to receive a long thick
hard cock in my tiny ass and give a man a mind-blowing fuck that would
leave him shattered and gasping for breath as he spilled his seed into me.

Father Hornbeck and I remained lovers until the day I finally moved away
from town. I was 19 years old the last time he and I had sex with each
other. By then it was 1981 and although I loved getting girly with him I
was actually more into being with women than being with another man. As got
into my twenties I looked back at my years spent fucking Father Hornbeck
and I quickly realized that all that sacred feminine stuff he first used on
me at age 14 was nothing more than the kind of things a sexual predator
says to youngster's in order to trick them into having sex. Oh I don't
blame him for what happened between us, heck I think of our sexual affair
as one of the most special times in my life. The memories I have of us
fucking each other, of me dressing up in nylon stockings and getting girly
with him are some of the best memories I have. So I have no regrets.

As I've grown older I think of Father Hornbeck on occasion and I remember
the wicked things we did together and it still gets me hard. He died last
year at age 90. Hearing about his passing hurt and although I probably
shouldn't have, I returned home to our small town and attended his
funeral. During the services for him I was caught up reliving all the times
we'd fuck. It wasn't a proper thing for me to do, thinking about those long
by-gone days but somehow it seemed like a natural thing to do. I said my
goodbyes to him and when I got home I ended up getting sent out on a
business trip the next day. Still feeling his loss once I arrived at my
destination for my trip I went to the local mall. I found a nice woman's
clothing store and I went in and purchased a pair of nylon stockings and
simple garter belt. Clutching my purchases tightly in my hands I returned
to my hotel room and after I showered I put on my stockings and garter belt
and I laid down on my hotel bed and jacked off as I recalled the hot wicked
sexual encounters Father Hornbeck and I shared with each other when I was a
teenager. It felt so good and because it did I decided to write this, my
story about how I discovered my sexuality. And as I stated at the
beginning, my journey of discovery, it all started with a visit.