The Devil’s Doorbell
An “almost true” story of a first sexual encounter.
‘Masturbation’ roared Father Murphy the preying priest ‘is the eighth deadly sin, sexual satisfaction through self-stimulation.’ He glared around the classroom, hands on hips, jaw jutting.
The girls blushed to their roots, we boys looked down at our shuffling feet wanting the ground to open and swallow us before our guilty faces gave us away for the wanton wankers we all were.
‘Yes, all of you, for I know you girls do it too’ he stared at Molly Molloy sitting next to me. She stared right back ‘when you girls play with that little button between your legs, you’re ringing the devil’s doorbell and he will surely let you in.’
He glowered, I thought, directly at me. I had just pulled myself off in the boys’ toilets before this very lesson. Well, Molly Molloy had such beautiful blouse bustin’ boobs and her arse moved like a melody. She was so damn cute I mean, what’s a fourteen-year-old lad to do?
‘You boys with your lustful lecherous longings pulling your penises over pictures of Marilyn Monroe and other such strumpets, you’ll burn in hell for your wicked desires.’ he paused for effect ‘Know this. God can see you. He knows the contents of your soul.’
Molly nudged my elbow ‘Look at his trousers’ she whispered ‘he’s got a hard-on.’
I looked. There was a bit of a bulge at the front but I couldn’t tell for certain. Anyway, what would Molly know about a hard-on she was almost a year younger than me. ‘How can you be sure?’ I asked doubtfully.
‘Cos my big brother’s trousers look like that before he takes his girlfriend up to his room to play records’ she said ‘I can hear them from my room.’
‘Oh,’ I said embarrassed by this revelation. I was stuck for words.
Then she leaned into my ear and whispered ‘That’s when I ring the devil’s doorbell’ she giggled enjoying my discomfiture. ‘What makes you do it?’ she asked cheekily.
‘I don’t do it’ I lied ‘it’s impure and I’d have to tell Father at confession.’
‘Liar’ she chided ‘you lent my cousin George a picture of a naked lady, I saw it in his room.’
‘You two!’ Murphy bawled pointing a bony forefinger at us ‘out here.’
We went before the priest, I was trembling with fear, my stomach churning.
‘What were you talking about that’s more important than saving your immortal souls?’
‘Masturbation, Father‘ said Molly boldly ‘and how best to do it.’
I thought the spluttering Murphy would die of apoplexy on the spot.
‘Get out’ he screamed pointing at the classroom door ‘you two are beyond redemption. Get out the pair of you.’
Molly turned at the door ‘I hope you enjoy that hard-on Father’ she shouted ‘my mum says you’re the biggest wanker this parish has ever had’ with that we turned and fled.
We took the long cut home through the woods and Molly made me own up to galloping my maggot. ‘Look’ she said ‘why don’t you do it for me and I’ll do it to you?’
I couldn’t believe my ears ‘are you serious?’ I asked.
She smiled and took her knickers off before stroking my growing bulge. I was lost. She guided my trembling, virgin hand to the devil’s doorbell and I rang it for her good. She fumbled inexpertly with my young hardness and I showed how to please it and stroke my balls at the same time.
That was my first sexual experience with a girl. I could have had many more with Molly in later life as she went on to great things. In 1965, at the ripe old age of twenty-three, she opened the first brothel in the history of our town bless her. She named it “The Devil’s Doorbell.”
Father Murphy was later ‘moved on’ by the church after what was described as an ‘unfortunate incident’ with a boy in the class below us.