It's been another day as usual in this tiny village. Get up in the morning, walk over to the corner store to pick up some groceries before making breakfast, log on to work, work for a few hours, have lunch, work for a few more hours, get off work, walk around aimlessly through the village for about half an hour, get back home and gestate on the sofa watching some public access bullshit before eventually going to bed. That's pretty much entirely how it has been most of this year ever since I've moved here. Long story short, I work as a programmer, and rents were getting out of control where I used to live, so I figured "hey, I should move somewhere where rents are cheap and just go full-time remote". And so that's what I did, and while yes, it did work out as far as having more money in my account at the end of the month is concerned, I did not consider the other possible drawbacks.

Turns out that small villages out in the mountains kind of suck for everything that isn't "living there cheaply". There isn't a god damn thing here apart from the absolute minimum, namely a corner grocery store, a small diner and a small church. Everything here is small, and more importantly, the church is the only thing here that passes for "entertainment". While it seemed to be going well in the first few months, the winter months hit me with some massive depressive energy, and it didn't let up once the season turned to spring. In a fit of desperation, I eventually decided that things weren't going to get any better and started going to church regularly, just to have something to do. And I'll be damned if it didn't help. Sure, it's not like I'm a dictionary definition of mental health right now, but it certainly beats what I went through that winter.

Now, every Sunday, I have something to look forward to: Father Collins's services are really something special, as he seems to have little regard for stuffy, stereotypical religious services, preferring to keep everything very closely connected to the community. He constantly mixes in stories from what happened in the village into his sermons, really making you feel like this is something where everybody comes together. It's pretty clear that he is the most beloved and respected figure here—everybody only has words of praise for him, and never has a single bad thing to say.

However, while I greatly enjoy every Sunday, far more than I ever thought I would, there's some other thoughts that have crept into my mind recently. Thoughts I would rather not have, but which I have nonetheless. Specifically, spending every Sunday looking at Father Collins has left me with the opinion that he's... quite attractive. That's not something I have ever thought about another male before.

So here I am, laying in bed, getting ready to sleep. But before I start trying to sleep, I usually spend some time masturbating, just to get everything out of my system. And usually, I fantasize about women, but tonight, things are different. Unbidden, thoughts of the priest enter my mind, and suddenly I find myself wondering just what he hides underneath those vestments. Several times I try to stop thinking about him, but it fails every time, and before I know it, my mind's eye shows me Father Collins casting off his robes, revealing a beautiful, immaculate body underneath. All the while, he always has that kind, gentle smile on his face, like this is something he'd be more than glad to do if a member of his flock were to ask him.

And so, I masturbate while thinking of another man for the first time. To my surprise, it turns into one of the most heated sessions I've ever had, and in the process, I get hornier than I've ever gotten before. It's like a whole new world of passion has opened up to me, a world of men loving men. While the thought would have probably been scary to me a few weeks ago, right now, it seems so right. As I furiously jerk myself off in my bed, everything is perfect, just like the image of the priest's naked body in my mind. Absolutely perfect. Just like the orgasm I have a few minutes later.

But after finishing up my masturbation session, the afterglow brings with it some uncomfortable questions that come with the realization that I just jacked off to thoughts of a priest. At the same time, I can't deny that it felt so good. For now, I dismiss the questions and simply write everything off as a freak occurrence. Surely, I won't have the same thoughts several days in a row or something. Of course, that is something I say to myself on Monday, denying the reality that there is something brewing inside of me. A lust that will not be denied. Tuesday, the same thing happens. Again, I write it off as an abnormality, but the niggling doubt in the back of my mind grows larger. Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, all the same. It's like my lust is now hyper-focused on this one guy, and all the while I'm having the best orgasms of my life. By the time Saturday morning rolls around, I've gone from outright denial to begrudging acceptance.

Now it's Sunday morning, and I'm sitting in a pew in the front row of the church, as usual, but my thoughts are anything but the usual. The thing is that every week after the service, Father Collins holds what he calls confessional—it's really just a time where he holds informal one-on-one talks with whoever has something on their mind that they need to get off their chest. So far, I've never had to take advantage of that offer, but at this point, my desires for him have gotten to the point where I need to talk with someone about it, and strangely enough, the subject of my affection is also the only one I feel like I can confess to.

Eventually, the service comes to a close, and Father Collins takes a seat at a small table off to the side in the church, which is where he holds his informal confessional. I hang around for a few minutes, waiting for everybody else to file out before I slowly walk over to him.

With that same soft smile he always has, he greets me. "Ah, hello, Andrew." Of course, he knows everybody in this village by first name. "Do you have something you want to get off your chest?"

Sighing quietly, I nod my head. "Yes, Father, I do have something I have to confess, but... um, I don't know how to say this, exactly... can we do this in the actual confessional booth? I... don't think I can look you in the eye when I say this."

The priest's expression becomes noticeably more serious, and it seems he can tell how nervous I am about this. "Of course, my child. Just follow me. I haven't used the actual booth in a long time, but it's still here in the back." he replies as he gets up from his chair and leads me over to the back of the church, where the confessional booth stands. It's nothing special, but it will give me that small bit of separation that I'm probably going to need to be honest with him. He opens up the curtain for my booth and lets me get inside before he takes a seat inside his booth as well.

There I am, sitting in a confessional. It's now or never, and committed to confessing what has been weighing on my mind. "I have sinned, Father.