Savoring Our Youth Fellowship

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[Here’s another segment in my Bohemian church series. While this can be read as a stand-alone, you will likely gain more pleasure by reading the stories that precede it first. All characters are 18 or older. This story involves bodily fluids and matter, group sex, oral-anal contact, spanking, rituals, and a highly unlikely religious sect. If any of those things repel you, please look for another story more to your liking.]

Jack hosts a private party in his room at the Rectory

As I’ve mentioned before, ever since our intensive sacred rituals together in Dame Taborova’s sitting room, Brother Nick, Sisters Pavla and Katka and I felt a special bond between us. With the kind guidance of the good Dame and her ever resourceful housekeeper, Mrs. Capekova, we had all manifested our angelic twins — also known as our Guardian Angels — and had the great privilege of witnessing our hosts perform the Rite of the Martyrs’ Bliss, one of the most advanced rituals of the Bohemian old ways. A feeling surged up within us that we were like an order of young initiates delving into the mysteries of the old ways.

Knowing how we felt, Father Viktor and Mother Magdalene allowed us to sit together at our communal meals in the Rectory, our close proximity enabling our angelic twins to play a hand or two of poker while we ate our hearty Bohemian breakfasts and dinners. Because of our young ages — blind Sister Pavla was only twenty-three and the other three of us were just eighteen — the good Father tagged us “the Youth Fellowship” or YF for short, a teasing nickname that we actually rather liked. While Nick and I spent our weekdays serving the “needs” of the elderly Czech widows of the Bohemian parish, the four of us “youths” took to holding impromptu “meetings of the YF”, on our weekends, which were held up in my garret after dinner.

Before I share my memories of our inaugural YF session, I feel like I should better explain the Bohemian traditions regarding our angels. I can almost hear some of my long-suffering readers going “oh no, not more angel stuff! Let’s get to the kinky sex!”, but please bear with me. Getting a little clearer understanding of our relations with our angels should enhance your enjoyment of my peculiar memoirs. At least I hope so.

* * *

The usual Catholic notions about Guardian Angels can be summed up by the sentimental holy cards depicting a lovely blonde angel in white gowns and wings looking after a pair of strolling children and protecting them from harm. The belief is that we are all assigned our own guardian angel at birth, who immediately begins looking after us.

This bears little resemblance to Bohemian teachings regarding angels.

Our traditions have it that while everyone has the potential to manifest their angelic twin, they can only do so once they have come of age and can perform the Rite of the Immaculate Conception with a partner of the opposite sex. The woman must be a virgin with her hymen intact, for she is to symbolize the Blessed Virgin who was fertilized by the Holy Spirit via the Archangel Gabriel as symbolized by her partner. Tradition states that the Blessed Virgin’s hymen was not broken until the birth of Our Lord, but through sacrificing her anal virginity the woman immaculately “conceives” or manifests her angelic twin, as does her partner who is overshadowed by Gabriel.

Needless to say, this is an advanced ritual of the old ways, not commonly practiced by most modern day Czech couples, most of whom are not even aware of the old ways, unless they are lucky enough to have someone like Dame Taborova helping to preserve and promulgate the ancient Bohemian traditions and customs.

Perhaps I should clarify that when I have described my or the others’ angelic twins as “fluttering” about, I was not implying that our angels were miniature beings, like Tinkerbell in Peter Pan. By no means. Our angelic twins, while invisible from our earthly view, were our size and occupying the same space as we did, but in a higher dimension. Their “wings” were symbolic of their free mobility not constrained by the laws of gravity nor of time or space. Our angels communicated with us by the sharing of feelings, not through words. But feelings well expressed are sometimes better than mere words, which are all too easy to misunderstand or misconstrue.

Since our angelic twins were uniquely suited for the completion of our souls, it seemed to me that the angels we bonded with were decidedly Bohemian, unfazed by the sharing of pee and poop or the erotic nature of the old ways’ rituals. Our angels, to be sure, were guardians of our moral honesty and dignity, but they were quite liberal in what kind of behavior they accepted.

The Most High, in His all-encompassing embrace of bodily intimacy and open-heartedness, gave us the free will to explore our loving bonds and make mistakes that we could learn from. The worst missteps might call for physical mortification, but more often than not, our angels guided us towards experiences of sacred joy triggered by the most intense intimacy our souls could handle. istanbul Escort Bayan The founding of our Youth Fellowship, was an opportunity for us young servers of the church and its old ways to recharge ourselves by opening our hearts, and those of our angels, to a communal experience of holy bliss.

* * *

And so it came to pass that as the four of us were enjoying our special dessert of orange sorbet at dinner one Saturday, that my old school pal, Nick, who I had recruited as an additional lay server for the parish, gave me a nudge and spoke in a stage whisper just loud enough for all four of us to hear.

“Hey, Boss! If we really are a Youth Fellowship, isn’t it about time we had a little of that fellowship and held a meeting? How about tonight in your room? I know it’s kind of cramped, but at least your bed is bigger than mine or the Sisters’. What do you say, girls? Would you be up for some fooling around?”

Katka and Pavla giggled and grinned, while I nodded amiably and put on my thinking cap.

“Okay, kids. How about we meet at my room at 8 o’clock for a pajama party. Perhaps Father Viktor will allow us to make it a sleepover, as long as we get up in time to help serve in Sunday Mass tomorrow. Pajamas are optional, but if you’ve got any special sleepwear, I’m sure we’d love to see it!”

Once dinner adjourned, I consulted with the good Father and received his blessing for our YF “meeting” and sleepover, as long as we appointed a secretary and wrote up minutes describing what we got up to. If any photos were taken, we would receive special indulgences.

“Ah, Youth!” Father Viktor sighed. “I hope you appreciate just how lucky you young people are, to be able to have such a good time together unsupervised. I didn’t get to do such things until I was at seminary, and believe me, getting into the nuns’ bloomers was a very rare treat and out of the question unless both the Abbott and Abbess were present and directing things.” He sighed nostalgically.

“They say that ‘youth is wasted on the young’, so make the most of this opportunity and prove that saying wrong. I look forward to a good report. God bless.”

* * *

With that taken care of, I got up to my room in enough time to swap out my old sheets for fresh ones on my bed, and to sweep up my room and wash my chamberpot. The amenities were few in my garret, so straightening things up and spraying some air freshener around was the least I could do. Just as I finished changing into my nightshirt, there was a knock at my door. I strode over to open it and was delighted to find all three of my compatriots standing there in their bathrobes and slippers.

“Welcome, fellow youths!” I quipped. “Please come in and make yourselves at home.”

Nick took me at my word, and started going through my dresser drawers and my nightstand, no doubt hoping to find some hidden snacks or other contraband. The best he could come up with was a tube of lube and a half-consumed package of Oreos, which he blithely passed around to the others. He then sat down near the end of my bed and untied his bathrobe, revealing a nicely ironed pair of striped PJs in the national colors of Bohemia, with a gold-colored patch of a crowned lion rampant sewn to the PJ top around the location of his heart.

“Ooo La La, Nicky!” Katka chirped. “How dapper you are.”

“Why thank you, Sister K,” he replied, “and will you give us a peek at your evening attire?”

Sister Katka teasingly pulled open her robe to reveal her perfect petite body barely covered by a pink see-through babydoll negligee, which left nothing to the imagination. Her perky little titties pushed their excited nips against the thin fabric, while the lower hem of the nightie stopped just at her furry dirty-blonde twat revealing that she had skipped any panties for her ensemble.

“Oh, Baby! Just look at you,” Nick blurted. “Let’s bring this meeting to order and get down to business!”

“Slow down, sport,” I chided him. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. There’s Sister Pavla to think of.”

Indeed, there was poor Pavla, who I couldn’t help but notice was standing there forlornly, her blind eyes shielded by a pair of sunglasses, and clearly feeling left out of all the fun of seeing what each of us had to reveal. How could we be so thoughtless? As of that moment, I resolved to bring our sister into the thick of things, in a tactile way that would hopefully make up for the visual pleasures denied her.

Nick, to his credit, looked chagrined and rushed over to Pavla to give her a big loving hug.

“Sorry, babe. I’m such an idiot. Can you ever forgive me?”

“Well, I can try Brother Nick, but I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed in my nightwear as well.”

With a resolute dignity, Pavla untied her bathrobe and pulled it open, revealing a full-body, pale blue cotton onesie molded to her curvaceous form. She looked like a grownup toddler all set for bed, complete with a bulky diaper swathing her crotch beneath the onesie’s cloth.

While Katka was probably in on the getup — istanbul Escort judging by her mischievous smirk — both Nick and I were caught by surprise.

“Wow!” we exclaimed spontaneously. Without showing any flesh, Pavla managed to come off as hopelessly cute, enticingly sexy, and kinda kinky. Her sunglasses were the final touch. Nick and I were already sporting wood from Katka’s babydoll, but Pavla turned our boners into flagpoles, tenting out our PJs and nightshirt.

We all descended upon Pavla and the four of us engaged in a heartfelt Embrace of Eden which melded us together into one ecstatic mass. When we once again emerged into our separate selves, we were still totally blissed out. And that’s not counting our angelic twins who were all vibrating within and around us, like holy Hitachi Magic Wands. Without a moment’s hesitation, all of us fell into a pile of flesh and open hearts on my groaning bed and basked in the glow of love that enfolded us. Our guardian angels joyfully accompanied us, but luckily their invisible forms were weightless and didn’t further strain my bed’s creaking frame.

* * *

How long we remained together in that sated mass, I have no idea. Predictably, Nick was the first to stir, raising himself up on his elbow and speaking to no one in particular.

“So, how does this Youth Fellowship deal work? Are our meetings like workshops or do we have goals to accomplish or are they like cool excuses for making out and helping each other feel really good?”

Nick had a valid question. I’d given this some thought already, so I had a few ideas to toss out there.

“Why not all of those? Workshops are fine for learning stuff, and it’s always good to have a goal, and what’s wrong with making out and making love? That could be what the Youth Fellowship is all about. That all sounds to me like a great combination.”

“But, who’s going to organize all that, and keep things straight?”

“Well, Nick! It sounds like you might not be first in line for that task. Why don’t we consult our sisters? I suspect they might have some good ideas about how to make all those things work together.”

I gave Katka an encouraging look. She crinkled her nose back at me, but her bright eyes showed she appreciated the opportunity.

“You guys! Really! Are you determined to make our little club into some stupid complicated thing? Let’s just have a good time together. We can enjoy being squished into Brother Jack’s bed, fondling each other, and getting all juicy. Perhaps we can focus on one of us at a time and express our love for each other. Doesn’t that sound delicious? What do you think, Pavvy? Do you have any ideas to add?”

“Katttkaahh!” Pavla squealed. “That sounds great. How about we start with a nice sharing of pee and poop over in the communal toilets? If we concentrate on this sacred ritual, but minimize any emphasis on sight, perhaps we could all share in an enhancement of our other senses. You all could learn to experience the old ways just through touch, smell, taste, and sound. Believe me, that can be very powerful and exciting in its own right.

“Why don’t we all disrobe, though I think I will keep my diapers on. I’m in a really naughty mood, and sharing my sacraments with you by filling my nappy seems like a special treat. I hope you agree.”

This sounded like a great idea to me, and when I glanced over at Nick, I could tell that he was quite willing to go along with it. Nevertheless, I couldn’t avoid the hunch that the Sisters had brainstormed this proposal together in the interval between dinner and our 8 o’clock meeting time. They were no slouches in concocting ways that we could all make the most of our friendships with each other. Indeed, I was beginning to suspect that bowing to their leadership might make our time together extra spicy and intimate.

* * *

Since moving into my garret in the Rectory, I’d not spent much time in the communal bathroom across the hall. Its array of toilets and group showers were remnants of an earlier era when the clergy had been much more numerous and the urge to experience defecation and cleansing as communal rituals was at its peak. These days, more often than not, our sparse crew was content to relieve ourselves into our chamber pots and empty them daily into a commode in the communal bathrooms in the Rectory and Nunnery.

Thus, our YF shared a certain naughty thrill in darting across the hall to the dark and deserted bathroom to share our pee and poop. Lit only by a few dim nightlights, the spacious room had the feel of a dreamscape, where the sleeper sought out an elusive commode that wasn’t filled to the limit with unflushed waste.

However, in our present sparse residence, we had our choice of bathroom accommodations, and we quickly settled upon a four-commode toilet cluster, whose “thrones” were openly arrayed in a tight circle facing each other. For our pee sequence, Sisters Katka and Pavla plopped themselves down on two adjacent seats and spread their thighs wide. This exposed Katka’s mound and Escort istanbul pee-hole, while Pavla’s diapers hid her urethra from view. Nick and I positioned ourselves in front of our enticing partners and aimed our prongs at their crotches. The two girls held hands and cut loose with a gasp, while Nick and I reveled in drenching their privates with our warm piss. Both Sisters enjoyed ecstatic climaxes through this obscene exchange of intimacy.

For our poop-sharing, we rearranged ourselves on the seats, alternating male and female, holding hands and indulging in sexy “fuck talk”. Nick was especially brazen and got us going with his rude confessions.

“Shit! I’ve really got to go. I haven’t had a dump all day and I feel like I’m about to explode. I hope I’m not too stinky.”

This seemed to trigger Sister Pavla, who let out a low moan, and squeezed our hands tightly.

“Oh, Brother Nick. C’mon and get us going. I love the smell of your farts. Open your heart, you bad boy, and push out your sacraments.”

Nick made a look of great concentration and blasted us with a mighty “Brrrraaaaappppp!”, followed by an explosion of dung balls splashing the water beneath him. The stench was ferocious.

“Oh my God!” Katka squealed. “You are so full of shit, Nicky! Thank you for sharing.”

Katka closed her eyes and frowned, as she let out a silent stink-bomb and forced a long turd out with a crisp crackling sound. She let out a great sigh of satisfaction, blushing in the dim light, and shaking herself as if she had lost all control and cum with a sizzling squirt.

“Nice one, Sister Katka.” I chuckled. “I bet that felt good.”

“Very,” she panted.

Who was next? Everyone was gazing in my direction, so I took up the challenge. I felt stuffed with fudge and the need to release it was urgent. I relaxed my sphincter and grunted forcefully as I squeezed out a solid log of shit. A great feeling of release overcame me, like a warm cloud. I mouthed a silent prayer of thanks that the Bohemian old ways were still alive and well, blessing us with their grace.

It was now Sister Pavla’s turn to share her poop, which she was eager to do in her diapers. Her nappy was already soaked from Nick and me pissing on it earlier, its white fluffy surface defaced with our yellow pee.

“My dear friends,” she addressed us. “Can you surround me and hug me tight as I open my heart and shit for you? Just close your eyes and enjoy our love together. Inhale deeply and pray for our union.”

We arose and rushed over to our dear Pavla, caressing and holding her warm body from all sides, as she grunted urgently, passing her gas and pushing her rude turds into her nappy. Our angels were fluttering their wings and helping direct a downpour of heavenly grace upon us all as Pavla’s open heart drew us into her loving bowels, as if we were living sacraments of holy dung packed together in the maze of her colon.

We were all crying uncontrollably, the intensity of our emotions overwhelming us as our tears dripped down our faces and onto each other’s bodies. It was in a shared passage of such bliss that we knew without question that the Most High had consecrated our Youth Fellowship and our activities as a true expression of the old ways, and that we were absolved of our sins, no matter what we might do together.

We were sunk in a powerful trance, as Nick made himself useful by wadding up toilet paper and devotedly wiping our shitty asses clean. He helped Pavla remove her heavy laden diapers and dump their contents in her commode, and then we all walked hand-in-hand over to the communal showers, ritually cleansing ourselves for the next phase of our fellowship together.

* * *

All cleaned up from our sharing of pee and poop, our giddy band of young spiritual initiates strolled back across the hall to my modest garret. The space was cramped, we were eager and exuding pheromones, and one way or the other, we were going to get it on. We were like four firecrackers, just waiting to be lit.

Somehow, I’m not sure how, Sister Pavla was now our President and Directress. We all bowed to her, enjoying our surrender to her loving wisdom.

“Okay, everyone, time to go blind! Katka, would you get out the blindfolds and pass them around? Here’s your chance to experience the world as I do, all the time.”

Katka went over to her bathrobe and pulled out four black sleep masks, giving one to each of us. I held off putting mine on, while I watched the others donning theirs. Pavla carefully removed her sunglasses and handed them to Katka, as she took her blindfold and fitted its elastic band around her head. Finally, with some trepidation, I put mine on and submitted to the darkness. My sense of sight was no longer available, and I took a deep breath, trying to orient myself to this new challenge.

I can only imagine how comical we must have looked, as we all reached out tentatively and tried to determine where we stood in relation to each other, without colliding or knocking heads. Pavla, who was an old hand at this handicapped condition, managed to guide us over to the bed, and have Nick and me stand aside, as she and Katka crawled up on the bed and hunkered down with their butts in the air, presenting themselves for the Kiss of Peace. (Any further visual descriptions are just my after-the-fact estimations based on deploying my other senses.)

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