Panting slightly, the man stops and bends with his hands on his knees. The back of his T-shirt is damp with sweat. He lowers himself onto the wooden seat behind him and tips his head back. Mouth open, he breathes in cool air before wiping his face on his arm.

Looking at the distance mode on his fitness watch, he sees the total since leaving home is ten kilometres. He quickly calculates that he will have run twenty kilometres when he gets back there.

This revelation makes him shake his head as if in disbelief. 

‘That’s equal to a half-marathon and has taken me 3 weeks to get there,’ he says to himself, ‘and Marion wants me to run that daily for a week before we start making it quicker.’

His thoughts turn to Marion, his coach, much as he tries not to. Her dark hair and athletic figure fill his head and stir his groin against his will. He has struck up a comfortable friendship with her husband Mark through her. They soon discovered they shared a few interests, with real ale, literature, and vintage cars being at the top of the list. They chat and have a bit of a laugh, but he is all too aware that the lust he feels is for Mark's wife. 

For months, since he joined the athletic club, he has wrestled with his attraction. He has known ever since boarding school that he was not gay and has lately questioned how his life has never led him into heterosexual relationships. He knows that he has always seemed to end up putting other things first. His education, then his work and then his parents. The list could grow if he thought about it for longer. 

He has found out from Mark, Marion’s husband, that he has problems with his libido. Marion, apparently, has been known to cut free and sometimes have a night out that lasts until morning.

During their running sessions, Marion confided to him her frustration and the way her husband encourages infidelity.

‘I caught him watching a cuckold video,’ she told him as they jogged, and he was casting surreptitious glances at her bouncing breasts.

He had replied, ‘Can you be sure it wasn’t just coincidental?'

Marion had snorted, and half-laughed. "He was wanking to a site called Cuckold Confessions and was chatting to a guy named Paul. It was pretty graphic and described our situation.”

Sitting on the bench, he recalls when she told him of the first night she had sex with a stranger. 

‘I was on the bus going home, intending to be a good girl, even though I had flirted and had a brief snog in a bar,’ she began. ‘A guy sat behind me and made complimentary remarks. Quietly in my ear. It was such a turn-on.' 

He senses a presence and opens his eyes. A young woman stands before him in a worn overcoat. Her empty eyes, unblinking and fathomless, stare out from her pale face. She shows no emotion, making him think she could be a statue.

Puzzled and unsettled, he speaks, “Good morning, I was miles away. You surprised me.”

She looks at him and asks, “Do you come here for surprises?”

The man replies, “No, I was running and needed a rest.”

“You looked troubled, so I waited,” she responds in a quiet voice.

“What is it you are waiting for?” he asks enquiringly.

“Oh, to ask if I can sit on this bench,” he is told.

The seated man gestures to the bench and smiles at her. 

“Why are you unhappy and troubled?” the woman asks him when she has taken her seat.

“Conflict,” he tells her. “I feel I am caught up in the difficulties of some friends.”

“Your feelings for her are more than friendship,” she states bluntly.

“I think so,” he tells her. 

“I thought so. I was watching the sadness in your face while your penis grew, stretching your pants. I liked the outline of it, and your face made me feel sorry for you,” she replies.

The dishevelled woman reaches out and holds his hand. She gives him a warm smile and uncrosses her legs. Her coat flaps open, exposing naked legs. She runs her tongue over her lips and, looking into his face, winks when she sees him swallow hard.

“I can ease your pain with succour,” she says gently.

“Who are you?” he asks.

“The soother of souls," she replies, standing up as she speaks.

She releases his hand before beckoning him to follow her. She walks lightly and enters a copse of tall bushes. Ensconced and hidden, she kneels before him before reaching up and pushing her hand up the leg of his shorts.

He stiffens and says, “I am confused. Should you do this? Can I let you?”

“Will you stop me?” she says with a grin.

Her hand works on his cock. Growing it in her hand by stroking and tugging, she pulls down his shorts with her free hand. He sighs slightly when his cock is released and stands erect in the air. 

The venous bulges excite her as she eyes his throbbing cock and moves closer. Holding him between her hands, she stretches the foreskin back from the swollen purple head. Pulling the shaft back and forth, she can see how aroused he is.

“You have such a lovely strong cock,” she says, shifting forward and kissing the penis in her hands. She pulls back on the veined shaft, opening the meatus, which she explores with the tip of her tongue. Groaning lightly, the kneeling woman takes the wetted head between her lips, squeezing the hard body as she does. She gorges on the penis and takes the stiff cock in her mouth. Her arousal is fuelled by moving her head back and forth and using her lips as a surrogate labia. The entrance to her oral vagina.

“You are so fucking hot. Take my seed and satisfy me,” the man says.

He holds her head while thrusting his meat between her lips. She is gagged when he pushes in as far as he can. 

The woman clamps her mouth around him, swallowing hard when his sperm fills the cavity between her cheeks. 

He presses his pulsing cock into her face, ejaculating his sperm into her, pulling her head into his groin.

Spent, he withdraws his penis. Rivulets of spunk run down to her chin, overflowing as she releases the pressure on the stilled cock.

Looking up at him, she says, "Thank you, Father, for you have sinned.”

He looks at her, alarmed, and says, "I… I don’t know. Have I? Why do you say these words?” 

“I know, Father. I have watched as you ask for repentance. I am your apology, your gift. I have released you, and now you can see a crossroads emerging from the fog of doubt," the siren says quietly, mesmerising him with her eyes.

He pulls his shorts up and says, "You are the shadowy figure at the back of the church, and when I turn to look, you are gone. Now, here you are following me, trapping me. Who are you?”

“It matters not; I am just me,” she replies. “You have to find the way ahead. There is no wrong. I think you need to speak to the woman you desire about how you feel. That much I am sure of. All will flow from that simple start.”

With that, she wipes her face on the sleeve of her threadbare coat, rises from her knees, and vanishes into the undergrowth.

Father Brian O’ Brien stares after her. He wonders if she was real. Perhaps he imagined the recent encounter. He is sure of one thing; he has to contact Marion and resolve his dilemma.

With that thought in mind he finds his way back to the paths that criss-cross the park, and jogs home. His cock swings happily in his pants, swollen and satisfied.