"It was fucking spectacular!" I exulted. "Oops. Sorry, Father O'Connor."

"Well, young man, we hope for Divinely Spectacular. But we will take Fucking Spectacular when we can get it."

"You're a good sport, Father. I wanted to report back to you and thank you again for what you did for Chuckie."

"I was just an instrument -- as you were, actually -- but you carried the ball. I admire that in you. You are a good person."

"I have another matter to ask you about, and it's... sort of... delicate? embarrassing? Personal, anyway."

I had looked it up and Chuckie's physical condition was not rare. It had a name. Actually, he had two conditions. One was called phimosis, and it could be fixed medically. The other was called poverty. It was harder to fix and it had been the barrier to getting him the treatment he needed. I explained, providing only the necessary information: that he had the condition and that he was in terrible emotional distress on account of it. And that his mom was poor. I asked if the diocese had some kind of compassionate aid fund or something.

"Hmm. Is he Catholic? Seems to me they were Episcopalian."

"That's true, as far as I know," I admitted reluctantly.

The old priest sighed. "Oh well, close enough. They used to say Episcopalianism is Catholicism, hold the Pope."

"So what... how... can... ?"

"You are a fine young fellow. You have a good heart. The world can be a complicated place. Sometimes on the way to doing the right thing, one has to take a little detour."

"Oh. Like?"

"Sometimes our little white lies put us closer to the path the Lord would have us follow."

"Thank you, Father."

"There is a condition."

"Yes, Father?"

"From now until his treatment is medically complete, he has to attend weekly confirmation classes in his church. If they use some kind of stretchers, fine, it'll be a few months. If they cut him, fine, a few weeks. Once he has been medically released by the doctor, he's off the hook. If he wants to quit the classes, fine. If he wants to become a priest, fine. Each soul has to come to God through its own free will. Them's the rules and that's the deal."

"It's been ruining his life. I'm sure he will agree. What's the next step?"

"Have his mother... The father's dead, right? Yes, I thought so. Well, have his mother call me and we'll set up an appointment with a specialist at the Catholic Hospital."

"What can I do to repay you?

"Ho! Funny you should ask! You agree to attend classes, too. Same deal."

"I'll gladly agree to do that."

I pulled his skin forward and licked his little cherry crinkle for the last time the day before his surgery. He wanted to be like Seth, and like me, and the urologist said he'd try to leave as much skin as he could.

He'd had chastity in his skin all day. He'd made the clear stuff 'til his shoes squelched. He spent an hour kissing my body and sucking me, his little spike as hard as glass. I edged him to the edge of madness and then carried him screaming over the edge to ecstasy. His cream was copious and delivered with joy and optimism. And a lot of racket.

There were some rough days. When he got a boner, the stitches would pull. There were a couple of weeks more, when jacking off was against doctor's orders, and a few more when we had to be very gentle.

I encouraged him to have other partners, figuring that the balance of power had been tipped pretty heavily toward me. I figured some time spent with other boys would let him find himself and settle out.

I think Timmy was especially good for him. The kid was very thin and timid and submissive. But joyfully submissive around Chuckie. By the time they went their separate ways, Timmy was more self assured and Chuckie had gained a mature and nurturing quality that made him a better lover and a better overall person.

I have to admit to having had a few trysts of my own, but in my heart... Oh, fuck... Admit it: my heart was in chastity to Chuckie, the whole time.

He goes by Charlie, now. We will have been together thirty-one years next week. We are equals. We still go to church on Easter... mostly. And we are still gentle with each other... mostly.

Oh, and chastity? I think Mae West said it best: "Restraint is okay," she said, "in moderation."