The sacristy smelled of incense, polished wood, and something far more sinful.
Eighteen-year-old altar boy Timothy had only meant to fetch the spare cruet of wine for tomorrow’s early Mass. The rest of the parish had already gone home, leaving the old stone church quiet and shadowed. He pushed open the heavy oak door quietly, not wanting to disturb Father Elias if he was still preparing.
What he saw stopped him cold.
Father Elias stood in the center of the small room, black cassock unbuttoned and hanging open like a dark curtain. Beneath it he wore nothing. His thick, veined c**k stood fully hard in his fist, the head flushed dark and glistening with pre-c*m. On the small wooden table in front of him, his laptop played gay porn on low volume — two muscular men, one bent over an altar-li
