Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Father Murphy Breaks the Bad News.
(4)
Sipping on beer #8 at 2045. Sip. Ah! Father Murphy!
As previously reported here on this blog, I would masturbate every night when I woke up in the Orphanage dormatory. Usually I had already 'wet the bed.' I would then empty my bladder in my cold wet bed, enjoying the momentary warm sensuality of it all. I would then masturbate to a mind-stunning orgasm, and fall asleep immediately in spite of my cold, damp environment. Orgasm was a 'sleeping pill' which acted instantaneously. I did it every night. I got lots of sleep. I thought it was 'my little secret.'
True, I always had to get up early before the other boys, then take my wet stuff down to the laundry room, then wash the stuff and hang it on the line to dry. That much is true and became quite routine. But I thought my furtive little masturbating secret was my own little secret. Wrong, apparently. Somebody noticed. Gossip happened! Everybody who was anybody became aware of my (faint boom) habit of jerking off in the middle of every night. 'The powers that be' made the decision to inform me that my furtive nightly doings were not at all 'private:' God was watching me 'do it' and God did not like it at all. Indeed, God would send me to Hell for 'doing it' if I died, unless I made a 'Perfect Act of Contrition' before Biting the Biggie. I continued masturbating, but also became proficient at performing fake Perfect Acts of Contrition.
Father Murphy was the priest who broke the bad news. He 'took me aside' and explained to me that what I was doing every night was wrong and that it was a Mortal Sin and furthermore, God was watching me do it. Every night.
Father murphy must have felt guilt about what he had done to me. He bought me a used bicycle.
Sipping on beer #8 at 2045. Sip. Ah! Father Murphy!
As previously reported here on this blog, I would masturbate every night when I woke up in the Orphanage dormatory. Usually I had already 'wet the bed.' I would then empty my bladder in my cold wet bed, enjoying the momentary warm sensuality of it all. I would then masturbate to a mind-stunning orgasm, and fall asleep immediately in spite of my cold, damp environment. Orgasm was a 'sleeping pill' which acted instantaneously. I did it every night. I got lots of sleep. I thought it was 'my little secret.'
True, I always had to get up early before the other boys, then take my wet stuff down to the laundry room, then wash the stuff and hang it on the line to dry. That much is true and became quite routine. But I thought my furtive little masturbating secret was my own little secret. Wrong, apparently. Somebody noticed. Gossip happened! Everybody who was anybody became aware of my (faint boom) habit of jerking off in the middle of every night. 'The powers that be' made the decision to inform me that my furtive nightly doings were not at all 'private:' God was watching me 'do it' and God did not like it at all. Indeed, God would send me to Hell for 'doing it' if I died, unless I made a 'Perfect Act of Contrition' before Biting the Biggie. I continued masturbating, but also became proficient at performing fake Perfect Acts of Contrition.
Father Murphy was the priest who broke the bad news. He 'took me aside' and explained to me that what I was doing every night was wrong and that it was a Mortal Sin and furthermore, God was watching me do it. Every night.
Father murphy must have felt guilt about what he had done to me. He bought me a used bicycle.
