Befriending Mrs. Tupa Ch. 03-04

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[This story has been submitted under the Fetish category, but it could also fall under the Mature, Voyeurism, Anal, and Romance categories. It also involves bodily fluids and waste, simple and extreme. If these offend you, do not proceed further. To best follow the story, please read chapters 01 and 02 first. These stories are meant for a very select audience who appreciate the fetishes involved. Please do not down-rate these stories just because they are not to your liking. If you do like them, please comment or send feedback. Thanks very much for your support. All characters in this story are over 18. This is purely a fantasy, and bears very little resemblance to reality.]

Jack takes penance and goes with Mrs. Tupa to the Rectory

Ch. 03

When I came over to Mrs. Tupa’s the following evening, it was with a certain dread. The night before I had given her a strong spanking as penance for our illicit sex together. That wasn’t my idea, mind you, it was Father Viktor her priest’s idea. Grave sins required “mortification of the flesh”, or so he claimed, so it was now my turn to be spanked for my sins by Mrs. Tupa.

Noting how red and raw I had made her keister the day before, I was not exactly eager to receive the same treatment. Granted, having her buns smacked seemed to turn her on, so I could only hope that it would affect me the same way. I didn’t want to appear less brave than she had been, but all of this was uncharted territory, and all I could do was surrender to her experience in these matters, and her assurances that it would be alright.

When I showed up in early evening, she welcomed me dressed in a simple housecoat, casual attire that I assumed she had chosen as most practical for my spanking. She was nicely made-up and had the top of her housecoat unbuttoned enough to reveal that she sported a bullet bra, navy blue this time, a style of lingerie that I found racy and arousing. There was something about supporting her big soft bazooms in a brassiere shaped like the tail-lights of a 1959 Cadillac that really rang my bells.

As I sat myself down on her living room couch, she brought in a couple of glasses of chilled white wine for “attitude adjustment,” handing me mine and setting hers down on a side table. Then she stood before me, facing away, and lifted her housecoat, exposing her big bottom which was minimally covered by high cut navy blue knickers that were much smaller than her usual granny panties. She wished to show me that her buttocks, which had been so red and raw last night, had healed to where there was only a light pink glow remaining. This helped me relax some more about the spanking to come.

The more Riesling I sipped, the more eager I became to get this mortification over and done with. I had agreed to it largely to accommodate Mrs. Tupas’s long-engrained religious customs that seemed to provide her with a release from the guilt caused by her shameful and lewd cravings. Father Viktor, who I suspected was a perv of the first order, had Mrs. Tupa — and no doubt a greater congregation of gullible old ladies — convinced that the penances he gave them, up to and including “mortification of the flesh” forgave their sins and reset their moral balance-sheets. I didn’t mind it, so long as it gave them simple tools to make them feel better about themselves. As far as I could tell, in the case of Mrs. Tupa, they did the trick.

But I had little desire to get myself roped into obligatory “mortifications” for myself, if I could help it, especially since I wasn’t even Catholic and Father Viktor was not my priest. I had half a mind to meet this Czech Rasputin and scope out what was really going down. Little did I know that my half-formed wish would soon be granted.

* * *

But back to the business at hand. Mrs. Tupa was clearly excited that she was going to be able to cleanse me of my sins by giving me a strong spanking. When we were done with our wine, she herded me up to her bedroom and had me strip naked and lay face down, halfway on her bed and half with my butt in the air and my legs over the side, reaching to the floor. There was just no way that she could take the weight of my body draped across her lap. In fact, I didn’t even see how her frail and bony little hands were up to the task of swatting my butt. When she reached into her nightstand and pulled out a nicely varnished wooden paddle, I realized that she had foreseen that problem and brandished its solution.

“Time for penance, Jack! You don’t know prayers, so I say them for you. They still be heard by God. No screaming, please. Not good idea with parents next door. I try be gentle, but firm.”

Then, while I braced myself, I heard the swish of the paddle rushing through the air, and it landed on my left butt cheek with a mighty smack.

“Ouch!” I yelled involuntarily. “That hurt!”

“That whole point, Jack. Mortification of Flesh no good if no pain. After short while, you see, it feel good! Sins go ‘way and you forgiven.”

Mrs. Tupa then rolled up her sleeves hatay seks hikayeleri and got to work. I grabbed a pillow on the bed and buried my face into it, to muffle my shouts and cries. I had to hand it to her. She was no slouch in the Mortification of Flesh department, even as she chanted her prayers. Her paddle slaps stung something fierce and my cheeks were soon afire. It was a searing pain that went from warm to hot to a burning overload. And then, lo and behold, the pain began to recede, and a feeling of bliss began to replace it. I was up in the clouds with the angels, or so it felt like.

Mrs. Tupa could sense the change and slowed her fevered delivery. She stroked my bare back gently and patted my buns, testing their heat.

“I think that enough, Jack. You be forgiven. Things good now.”

And things were good, indeed. I felt like I was floating in a sea of calm, especially as she got out her jar of salve and spread the cooling cream all over my butt. I even felt grateful for the experience, though I didn’t much care to repeat it any time soon. It did help me to better understand Anna Tupa’s loyalty to “the old ways” as she called them. But I still had a bone to pick with Father Viktor. I wanted to get a few things cleared up.

* * *

Mrs. Tupa helped me crawl fully up on her bed and just relax with my front side down and my reddened buns pointing to the heavens. She lay beside me and petted me and whispered encouragements.

“You see, Jack? Sins be gone now. We be free to start like new.”

Mrs. Tupa made it known that she wished to celebrate our cleansing by receiving a jolly good fuck up her ass. The very thought of such a forbidden pleasure soon had me sporting a hard-on to beat the band. However, there were strings attached to her naughty wish. It had to be done under proper circumstances that ruled out it happening tonight. She showed a certain reluctance to detail those circumstances, which raised my suspicions.

In her eagerness to spank me earlier, we had skipped our usual toilet rituals in the bathroom. This was not fatal, but it was risky. With our bladders still full and our colons still clogged, there was a strong chance of a real mess in the throes of passion, no matter what else we did tonight. I suggested we take a short break and expel our built-up waste.

“You right, Jack. We need shit and piss together. No sins here. It all natural. Same with fuck in ass.”

Egad, Mrs. Tupa was the queen of loopholes. If illicit sex was a grave sin, how was sodomy not one as well? I asked her that and received one of her perturbed looks as if I was a total moron. Perhaps I was, but I felt obliged to understand her logic, if logic it was.

While we were walking to her bathroom, she tried to set things straight.

“Jack! Like I tell you before, everyone shit and piss. It natural. Doing it together be no sin. Okay?”

“Yes, I understand that, Anna.”

“Then how so hard to understand that wiener up ass be no sin, either? Father Viktor call it ‘Catholic birth control’. It be allowed!”

“It is?” I seriously doubted this, but I was losing the will to argue the point.

“Sex be for ‘procreation’, I think is word. Yes?”

“Okay,” I ventured.

“But wiener up ass has no chance of pregnancy. Right?”

“Yes”, I replied.

“Then wiener up ass not sex!”

I could hardly argue with her logic, but something still did not feel quite right.

“So, we are free to just enjoy anal sex whenever we want?”

“Well, not exactly, Jack. Father Viktor must supervise. He have standards.”

I’ll bet he has, I muttered to myself.

“So, we no fuck in ass tonight, but after next confession, he want us come to Rectory and receive blessing.”

“And no doubt some ‘mortification of flesh’?

“Maybe. I not know. He good priest. He know best.”

* * *

By now, we had entered Mrs. Tupa’ bathroom and she tore off her house coat and sat down heavily on the toilet seat, clad only in her blue bullet bra. Her pee immediately began to spray out of her pee hole, providing a nice wet target for my own spurting piss. She stared up at me, shivering in arousal, as our urine mingled and splashed noisily in the bowl. She couldn’t resist thrusting her hand into the stream of my piss and rubbing her clit and labia with the warm liquid. To most people, our little ritual would have seemed wanton and perverted. But courtesy of the power of Bohemian folk customs and the reassurance of Father Viktor, we knew that “it natural”, as Anna insisted.

It was now time for us to shit together, but this time, Mrs. Tupa suggested we do it differently. Since my buns were still tender and inflamed from their mortification, she thought our usual practice of my sitting on the john, with her on my lap, and us hugging and shitting together would just be too painful for me. Instead, she proposed a different approach.

She opened a cupboard under the sink and hauled out a large brass chamber pot that had the look of being a relic from the old country. First I was to squat over it and shit into it while she watched. Then it would be her turn to poop while I watched.

“You go first, Jack. Shit for your old lady. Make me happy!”

I took a deep breath and then exhaled. I wasn’t sure that I could shit on command, but I was willing to try. I squatted over her pot facing away from her, and concentrated my bowel muscles. I could feel a snake of human waste moving from my colon to my rectum and then, with a crackling sound, pushing its way out of my asshole.

Mrs. Tupa gave a cry of delight, as if I had just given her a dozen red roses. “Oh, Jack! It beautiful!”

She even clambered down on all fours and gave my emerging turd a reverent kiss, causing it to break off and drop into the waiting pot with a loud ringing plop. I know this all sounds truly warped, but I was very touched by her sincere enthusiasm. Mrs. Tupa was made so happy by the simplest things, how could I deny her? Once I was finished with my defecation, she carefully and lovingly wiped my ass for me, until it was clean as a whistle. I bent over and helped her up off the floor, enabling her to drop the used toilet paper into the toilet.

Then it was her turn to shit for me. You would think that at her age, squatting would be a difficult task, but Mrs. Tupa proved surprisingly limber. I reckoned that she must have done a lot of squatting over the years, enough that her knees and hips still had some flex to them. Certainly since she had drawn me into her naughty games, we had given each other quite a workout. This sure beat going to the gym.

“Now I poop, Jack. I save shit for you, all day. Please enjoy!”

I squatted down behind her and watched her pull her big cheeks apart. A dusting of soft silver pubes continued up from her twat, around her anus, and on up her dark stained crevice, even fanning out on her lower back and up her spine. She let out a loud wet fart that echoed in the tiled room and made her giggle.

She strained to push her sphincter out and was quickly rewarded with an onslaught of fetid turds, dropping into the brass pot, some making it ring, but others falling to quietly merge with my large deposit already there. Mrs. Tupa grunted unselfconsciously, pushing yet more shit through her rectum and out her bulbous anus. It was a riveting sight, hypnotic in its way, partly obscene and partly beautiful in its natural splendor.

Once she was done, I wiped her ass until it was clean, then I helped her up and dropped the used tissues in the toilet. I walked over and picked up the chamber pot, heavy now with our dung, and tilted my head towards the toilet bowl.

“Shall I?”

She nodded and came over to silently witness the disposal of our stools together. They tumbled from the pot into the toilet bowl, creating a loud splash. I ceremonially pushed the handle and we watched our shit and piss swirl around and then disappear. With the chamber pot now emptied, she took it from me and washed it out with an old rag and hot water and soap. She dried it with another rag and put the pot under the sink again, draping the damp rags over the side of the bathtub to dry. Then we washed our hands, and sprayed the room with air freshener.

She put her housecoat back on and we went back to her bedroom. I glanced at her little orange-lit alarm clock and saw that our time was nearly up. I couldn’t stay over at Mrs. Tupa’s place too late or my parents would get suspicious. But I wanted some more clarification on this proposed visit to Father Viktor’s Rectory before I left.

While I slowly put my clothes back on, I quizzed Anna Tupa about what we might expect. What had she meant when she had said that ‘Father Viktor must supervise’?”

“Oh, Jack, you worry too much. He just want make sure we do anal love right way, so I no hurt.”

“But Anna, he’s a Catholic priest! What does he know about anal sex?”

“It not sex! I already explain. Sex is for make babies! Wiener in anus no make babies. So it not sex!”

“Alright, alright. But what does he know of wiener in anus?”

“Oh, Father Viktor say he learn many things in seminary. Some subjects very well.”

“I see,” I said quietly. The big picture was swiftly coming into view. “So, do we have to fuck in your ass while he watches and gives advice?”

“Maybe. More likely he demonstrate first.”

“Demonstrate?? With who? You?”

Mrs. Tupa broke into peels of laughter, as if I had just made the most ridiculous joke.

“No, not me, Jack! He never do that. He demonstrate with Mother Superior. She Czech, also. You like her. She have big bottom, too.”

“But Anna, how can this be? He’s a priest and she’s a nun. Aren’t they pledged to celibacy?” I didn’t know much about Catholicism, but at least I knew that!

“Yes, they be celibate.”

“But,” I began, and then it all became clear. “Wiener in anus is not sex?”

“Exactly!” Mrs. Tupa said emphatically.

“How about wiener in mouth?”

“Not be sex.”

“How about tongue in twat?”

“Not be sex. Neither be tongue in anus, fingers in anus, or fingers in twat.”

I suddenly had a new respect for the Catholic clergy, or at least for Father Viktor. Now I knew I really had to meet this guy. If he wanted to demonstrate “proper” anal sex, er, anal love with the head nun, I wanted a ring-side seat.

“Okay, Anna, I think I get it now. Yes, let’s visit the Rectory this Saturday. Let’s learn to do things right.”

On that happy note, I gave Mrs. Tupa a goodnight kiss, and returned back home next door. My parents were dozing in front of the TV, so I tiptoed up to my room and was soon in bed and out for the night.

Ch. 04

I found the days leading up to our appointment with Father Viktor at the Rectory passing exceedingly slowly. I didn’t really know what to expect, so I spent some time down at the town library going through their reference set of the Catholic Encyclopedia, trying to determine what the actual teachings of the Church were regarding sex, sin, and penance. As far as I could tell, it was nothing like how Mrs. Tupa and Father Viktor interpreted it. But I couldn’t be positive, because those subjects were covered so evasively, with euphemisms and untranslated phrases in Latin — when they were covered at all — that I ended up more confused than I was before I started.

Just to be on the safe side, Mrs. Tupa and I took a break from our evening encounters in the flesh, and fell back upon our nightly ritual together at our bedroom windows. We wished to show up at the Rectory with as light a load of sins as possible.

The plan was that come Saturday, Mrs. Tupa would go to church as usual, take confession prior to the Mass, and meet me in front of the Rectory at one o’clock, so that we could arrive together. I would dress in a nice shirt and slacks, wearing my polished leather shoes. Mrs. Tupa wished for me to show respect for Father Viktor by dressing nicely.

It all came together wonderfully. The parish church was just a block’s walk from our street, and as I crossed the avenue and strolled up to it, I spied Mrs. Tupa in her head scarf emerge from the side exit of the dining hall, where she had been socializing with other Czech ladies and enjoying some tea and gossip. She saw me coming and walked over to the Rectory next door, our paths converging at its front door. She gave me a warm smile and a mischievous wink, but no other signs of affection, as we were still out in public until we rang the door chime and were invited inside by a novitiate.

We were directed to a seat on the couch in the parlor, to await Father Viktor’s entrance. Not long after, we heard some steps in the hall, then the door opened and in walked a burly bearded priest in a long black hassock, accompanied by a formidable nun, also in black, with a traditional veil and coif. Mrs. Tupa and I sprang to our feet and bowed our heads as she had drummed into me. Father Viktor gave us a big grin, and spoke first.

“Mrs. Tupa! So good to see you. And who have we here?”

“Father, this be Jack, the young man I speak of.”

“Pleased to meet you, young man, and may I present Mother Magdalene to you both? She has kindly offered to take part in your instruction today.”

We all nodded and smiled at each other, and then Father Viktor gestured for everyone to be seated. I was impressed. Mrs. Tupa’s priest spoke flawless English, though with a faint Czech accent. He practically radiated charisma, a forceful loving presence that convinced you of his sincerity and concern. I had been expecting a double-talking lecherous old pervert, but he seemed nothing of the sort. I could easily see why Mrs. Tupa trusted him without question and why Mother Magdalene seemed to be hanging on his every word.

“So, before we begin today, may I offer you a wee glass of lovely Aquinas Cabernet? We had some left over from today’s Mass, and I always say that one should never waste consecrated wine.”

Father Viktor snapped his fingers and the novitiate appeared out of nowhere, carrying a silver-plated tray with an open wine bottle and four crystal sherry glasses on it. The novitiate silently filled the small glasses and handed one to each of us, then set the bottle and tray on a side table and disappeared again.

“To our health,” he toasted. “Both physical and spiritual.”

The good Father knocked his wine back in a single gulp, while the rest of us sipped ours more timidly.

“So, let’s get on with things, shall we? I believe you are here today to receive instruction in the proper performance of a non-sexual act of love employing perfectly normal body organs, are you not?”

Mrs. Tupa nodded her head eagerly, while Mother Magdalene blushed, but kept her gaze faithfully fixed upon Father Viktor. My face must have betrayed a hint of skepticism, as the good Father turned to me with a concerned look.

“Jack, my son, you look a bit unsure. Do you not want this instruction?”

“Father, please, I want it very much. It’s just that this is all so new to me. Mrs. Tupa has been trying to help me understand, but I guess I’m still kind of nervous.”

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