…. He witnessed the people around him like a being from another world. Joyless, vacant faces who knew nothing of the glory of Cock. It made his heart sad to think that he was returning to such a place. He wanted to live his joy of Cock. He wanted to celebrate it each waking minute.
As he walked deep in thought to his thesis advisor’s office, he stopped.
“But, of course,” he said to himself “Of course I can”.
He smiled and picked up his pace. He walked so quickly that he almost fell through the open door of the office. His thesis advisor arose from his chair, startled.
“Are you alright, Chester?
“Yes, Father Ch…Charles,” Chester gasped. This priest, his thesis advisor, was he present last night?
“Come in, Chester. Close the door,” the priest said.
Chester looked at Father Charles up and down slowly. He had only met Father Charles once before, a few months back, when he had been told to report to him regarding his research regarding early Christian philosophy. Today, Chester was to announce the main theme of his thesis today.
The priest, noticing Chester’s piercing gaze, looked him in the eyes.
“Now sit down, Chester,” he said.
Chester sat down in the soft leather club chair. He looked around the room as though seeing it for the first time.
The priest sat across from Chester. He dangled his eyeglasses in one hand, and lay the palm of the other hand on his knee. He looked to be studying Chester as Chester looked around the office.
The room was small and dark. Thousands of books were crammed into dark wooden bookcases that went from floor to ceiling. There was a window but the blinds were drawn. Something of the room reminded Chester of a monk’s cell in a cloister.
“What’s the matter Chester?” asked the priest finally.
Chester lowered his gaze to meet the priest’s eyes and said, “I’ve come to announce my thesis, Father. I’ve had a change of mind. I’m changing my focus”.
Chester, as he spoke, became more confident, more relaxed. He sat back in the chair, facing the priest, and rested his arms on the chair.
“Really? What do you wish to research now? What is to be your thesis?” asked the priest.
“Phallic worship,” said Chester without hesitation. He relaxed himself in his chair appearing almost impertinent to his adviser.
“What?” the priest furrowed his forehead.
“Yes, Father. I am very much interested in phallic worship, particularly as practised in ancient Europe. That is to be the thrust of my thesis.” He spoke proudly and confidently.
“May I ask why?” said the priest, his eyebrows raised.
Chester looked at the priest without answering. Then lowered his gaze to the priest’s groin as he spoke.
“I’ve had a revelation, Father. As a worshipper of the phallus, I want to explore its history and socio-cultural impact. I want to understand how we moved from a culture of life-loving pagans, to creatures terrified of that which makes life wonderful, the phallus”.
Chester looked at the priest in the eyes and then looked back down at his groin. “Surely you don’t disapprove, Father? Being that you are also a Cock worshipper yourself.”
The priest opened his mouth as though to object. He paused for a moment further, then smiled and laughed.
“You recognized me, then?” he asked smiling.
“There was one priest last night” said Chester, “he was wearing a leather hood. He had a tattoo on his thigh- a circle with a cross inside. And a beautiful Cock with a bulging head and foreskin. I have a feeling that’s you.”
The priest stood up, approached the office door, and locked it. He returned to where Chester was sitting and stood in front of him. Chester looked up. Father Charles was handsome, he thought, as he stood there in his grey sweater and white priest’s collar. He wondered why he hadn’t noticed this the first time. He also was in very good shape for a priest: he could see the priest’s pectoral muscles faintly bulging through his gray sweater and the black shirt underneath.
Chester, you are a prostitute of the temple. As a temple priest, I bid you to perform a service of worship. Take out my penis and worship it,” he commanded.
Staring at the groin before him, Chester slipped off the chair onto his knees. He raised his hands to the priest’s belt and unfastened it. He unbuttoned the trousers, pulled the zip downward, and let the priest’s trousers fall onto the floor.
Chester gasped. The priest was wearing a fraying yellow jockstrap. He looked up at the priest and raised his hands to the thick band. He moved his face still closer to the jockstrap, his eyes locked with those of the priest, and inhaled deeply in the hope of breathing the pouch’s scent. There was a faint aroma of soap and sweat trapped behind the musky scent in the fabric. Chester pulled the band downward slowly. His heart lept as a thick brush of pubic hair rose slowly and sprang before his face like dark jungle growth. He moaned in lustful longing in anticipation for the priest’s cock….
