Today the parish staff was virtually introduced to our new pastoral intern, “Caitlin.” She joined us from Michigan via Zoom and, conditions permitting, hopes to join us this fall. She’s assisted in college ministry and is enthusiastic about working in parish ministry.
As our online conversation progressed, I couldn’t refrain from noticing just a hint of cleavage peeking out from beneath her shirt. Her round, almost cherubic face was framed by shoulder-length blond hair. Afterwards I located some photos of her online. She’s petite yet pleasantly curvy. One picture showed her in a modest swimsuit.
I’m intrigued.
My thoughts returned to the Deaconess. With the Deaconess, I sensed her sexual desperation, which she later confirmed to me in a tearful confession. By outward appearances, no one would have guessed her sexual history. A shy child, she had been raised in a strict and devout Lutheran family. As a freshman in high school, a senior took an interest in her. She lost her virginity and with it any sense of propriety with guys. Even though she was active in church and prayed for deliverance, she couldn’t say no. Periods of abstinence were followed by sexual binges. In college she slept with her minister. As she pursued theological studies and became active in ministry, she set up online dating profiles to arrange sexual encounters. She spoke of her isolation in her parish assignment, which hinted at her use of sex as a salve for loneliness. (A female sex writer bluntly stated, “Women fuck for intimacy, and men fuck for sex.”) I noticed that after our encounters, she struggled to look me in the eye. Her guilt and despondency were palpable.
Yet the next time we were alone, her panties were damp.
Sex is a paradox. It needs the difference between man and woman, yet it reminds them that they are not different at all. In this way pleasure is the world’s great equalizer.
The Kama Sutra
She undid the buttons of her skirt and let it fall. I unzipped my pants. My hand reached up her thigh. My mouth found her breast. My trembling hands pulled down her cotton panties. Wanting to feel her flesh surrounding me, I lay on top of her. My cock and her pussy were destined for convergence. There is something so sublime about penetrating a woman. As I felt her contract around me, I thrust into her even deeper. Her body bucked against mine. Harder. Faster. Louder. “We were nothing more than two sinners fucking.”
Meanwhile, I fantasize about Caitlin.
Lutheran Guilt 