“Please, Sean,” she says, “use the other hole.”
For weeks now I’ve been “visiting” Mrs. Cassidy when her husband’s away. Doesn’t she go like a racehorse on speed once we get down to it? A shame it is to see a fine woman like herself never allowed a good gallop. But we’d not ridden this way before.
“Ah now, Maureen, are you sure?” says I.
“Father Michael says it’s less of a sin,” she replies, displaying a well-oiled entrance that looks a snug fit.
It’s a tight, sweaty, pleasure-filled canter that we have.
Catching my breath I whisper, “Bless you, Father.”