Paul Conroy - Sex Sated Minister

It was plain her mother had no answers for her. How could she when she was performing worse evils. As far as Susan was concerned, there was no salvation for her mother, now.

Yet, through it all, Susan did understand one thing. It was possible to use one's own body in a purification rite. The question, of course, was how? How did one use one's body to cleanse other bodies? Surely not the way her mother's body was used. If there was pleasure in using the body evilly, then the only way to wean one away from evil was to fight that evil by offering her own body with greater pleasure, but if that was the case, perhaps Betty was not using her body for evil purposes after all. Betty was married to her father. She was giving her body freely to her father to use as he saw fit. Perhaps this was what her father was meant to have because of the stubbornness of Abigail, his first wife.

No! No! Somehow it just couldn't all be right. Father was enjoying his sexual relationship with Betty. According to Susan's mother, that was all wrong. Sex was not to be enjoyed, but suffered, until all the children were conceived. Then it no longer need be practiced. But her mother, who did not intend having any more children was enjoying herself through suffering. Enjoyment either way was probably a sin. And sex was used both ways. This was a problem Susan had to ponder. The solution was there. All she had to do was look for it.

"Sexual relationships are things that must be carefully studied," the Reverend Michael Trashman explained.

The reverend was a short man, about five feet six or seven inches tall, with crooked teeth, a short, slightly twisted nose, and curly brown hair he almost never kept combed. Luckily it was cut short so most people didn't really notice.

"But is sex the evil my mother insisted?" Susan asked, sitting in the, reverend's study with her hands folded in her lap.

"Sex is what you want it to be," the reverend explained, "If you wish to think of it as evil then no matter what anyone else says, it's evil. If you wish to think of it as good, then no matter how many other people deplore it, it's good. Sex is what you make of it."

"It should only be performed for the making of babies, my mother said," Susan insisted.

"In animals lower than man, this is so," the reverend nodded. "In man, this is apparently not so. Else, why did God give man a year-round urge? All other animals have a mating season. Man, being infinitely superior to animals, has the ability to think, and therefore to reason when sex is good or not."

"Well then, it should be limited to only two people shouldn't it?" Susan asked.

"To two people at any one time," the reverend corrected. "But not necessarily the same two people. For instance, I have never married because to do so might make a single woman miserable. I keep myself single and available to all other women, married or single. I have solved many a woman's problem."

"Are you saying you have willingly fornicated with other women, many of whom are married?" Susan asked.

"Allow me to explain," the Reverend Trashman said, standing and walking across the room to a cabinet near a window. "In here I keep complete records on all my parishioners. Those like yourself and your brother have no more than a page folder, but your mother had a very large file in here until she left this church."

"Are you saying you fornicated with my mother?"

"Good Heavens, no! She had problems enough with your father. There was nothing I could do for her in a sexual way. But we used to talk a lot, and I attempted to explain to her, as I am explaining to you, that Ira Frank is a good man. Frank never fooled around with women on the outside, in spite of your mother's frigidity toward him. The wife he has now, Betty, is infinitely better suited to a man like himself. He has needs, and these needs must be assuaged. Your mother, in her zeal, refused to see this. She denied your father his marital rights, and therefore, in her own way, was the cause of the downfall of the marriage."

"But what about what you were saying before, about you and other women?" Susan wanted to know.

"What I'm telling you now is as confidential on your part as anything you might tell me is on mine. Is this understood?"

"Of course, Reverend Trashman."

Opening one of the file drawers, Trashman pulled out a series of thick folders, closed the drawer, and carried them over to his desk.

"Do you remember Miss Pearl Beremba?" Trashman asked.

"You mean the spinster who lives three blocks away from me?" Susan queried.

"Correct," Trashman nodded. "Do you remember all the telephone calls she used to put to the police, making life miserable for all the teenagers on the block who used to play football in the gutter in front of her home?"

"Do I! She was swearing out complaints against a third of the kids in my class."

"Miss Beremba was a very frustrated woman. As you know, she is not exactly a prize winner in a beauty contest."

"No," Susan nodded. "In reality, she's on the ugly side."

"Precisely. No man had ever touched her. No man had ever smiled at her. No man had ever complimented her. And no matter what her features looked like, Pearl had feelings as strong as those of any other woman. She needed to be loved."

"And so you… "

"Not at first," Trashman told her, holding up a finger. "At first I gave her an hour of my time each week for simple companionship. That was another thing she needed. But it was obvious the poor woman needed more. And one afternoon she as much came out and said it. Had I refused her then, I not only would have lost another parishioner, but the consequences might have been much worse. She was already past her menopause and had no ova left in her. I didn't have to worry about there being any telltale signs, so to speak. But she had her pride. I couldn't merely let her know I was willing. So I wooed her, then made physical love to her. And believe me, that first time was difficult. She had her hymen intact, and being so old, it was difficult to penetrate. But in spite of any initial pain, she loved it. I service her regularly, once a week, on Wednesday at one o'clock, in her home."

"But it sounds so wrong… so evil," Susan insisted.

"Was it more evil to do what I did, or to leave the woman alone and read about her killing herself one day?" Trashman asked. "Susan, I never force myself on any woman. Yet there comes a time when I have to give my body to protect someone."

"That's just one case," Susan pointed out. "You've justified doing what you did with Miss Beremba, but how can you justify all the others?"

"Perhaps in your eyes I might not be able to do so. The important thing is, I've justified myself in the eyes of each of the individual women with whom I copulate, and I justify myself in my own eyes. I feel I have done no evil."

"What about the married women you talk about?" Susan asked, craning her neck to try to get a glimpse of some of the other names.

"Feel free to examine the files," Trashman told her. "I have confidence you will divulge this to no one."

Susan got up, walked over to the desk, and shuffled the files. She recognized the name of a neighbor, Mrs. Joan Rugen.

"What about Mrs. Rugen?" Susan asked.

"Joan Rugen's husband is a nice, mild-mannered man," the Reverend agreed. But he has what is known as premature ejaculation problems. He always climaxes long before his wife can enjoy herself, leaving the poor woman terribly frustrated. She was ready to enter an institution, on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Had I not made love to her, not only would she be locked away today, but the cost to Tom Rugen would be staggering."

"And what about Mrs. Lasten?" Susan asked, referring to the mother of obnoxious Al Lasten, whose folder she saw on the desk, as well.