Joining the Parish Aroma Guild

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[This story is a continuation of the Mrs. Tupa series. For better context and understanding, you might consider reading the previous stories. Please note that this story is not for everyone. It includes mature characters, religious rituals, body hair, and strong smells, among other things. If you find any of these off-putting or offensive, please do not read it or down-vote it. I generally reply to personal messages, but please include your username and email if you wish a reply. Thank you for reading.]

Discovering Other Practices of the Old Ways

If you have read this far in my memoirs of my early days of joining and serving the local parish of the Bohemian Church, you will not be surprised to discover that the more I learned about the customs and the old ways of the church, the more intrigued I became. I was beginning to liken the church’s traditions to the many layers of an onion, though perhaps the many layers of a cabbage would be more apt, given its central place in Bohemian cuisine. I would peel back an outer layer, only to find another hidden beneath, and then another and another.

My initial discovery that there was a strong tradition in the Bohemian community of both congregants and clergy communally looking after each other’s “needs” had certainly piqued my interest when I realized that those needs were almost entirely of a sexual nature. Or perhaps I should say of an “erotic” nature, as according to Bohemian logic, the only “sexual” act is one that leads to — or at least risks — procreation.

Perhaps due to the long-standing influence of the gnostic Bogomils out of Bulgaria, who frowned upon bringing new souls into this vale of tears, preferring instead to practice buggery and other non-procreative erotic acts, Bohemian doctrine considered vaginal “sex” to be a grave sin, usually requiring penance in the form of Mortification of the Flesh. Which is not to say that vaginal sex was totally forbidden. Most Czechs, after all, were devoted to raising families, and children were not delivered by storks, despite what the Dutch might claim.

However, the reality in the Bohemian parish that I joined, back in 1968 when I was 18, was that the vast majority of the parish congregation were Czech widows who had outlasted their husbands and whose grown children had moved away, sadly finding the Bohemian customs and old ways embarrassing, archaic, and uncool. Perhaps because my family was not at all religious — and certainly not Bohemian — I had become fascinated with the old ways when my next door neighbor, Mrs. Tupa, had begun to teach them to me. I was especially charmed by the Bohemian tradition that the natural human body, with all its body hair, smells, and excretions, was nothing to be ashamed of, but instead something to celebrate together in social and spiritual rituals of a very earthy kind.

There seemed to be an endless number of these rituals that dated back to the old days in the old country, and our parish was blessed by the patronage and generosity of Dame Taborova, who was a dedicated student and teacher of the ancient rituals. We were also blessed that our two leading clergy, Father Viktor and Mother Magdalene, were strong believers in preserving and propagating the old ways.

* * *

In one of my daily catechumen sessions with Father Viktor, I brought up the topic of the old ways.

“Father, you were kind enough to let me know of the church’s Penance Chapel in its basement, and to take me as a special guest to the Wednesday night “Sharing Circle” that meets there. It was very inspiring, to say the least. But surely there are other rooms in the basement dedicated to other rituals and old ways?”

“Well, hmmm, Jack my boy, I can’t blame you for asking. It must seem like we’ve only been scratching the surface with the rituals you’ve encountered so far. But there’s a reason for that. As I’ve said before, any of the old ways are rather shocking to those who do not have the proper grounding in church doctrine and Bohemian history. As the old saying goes, ‘Feed them bread and warm milk to begin with, later they can handle nice fat sausage!’

“You’ve been making excellent progress in both your studies and your home visits, and you did jump into the spirit of the “Sharing Circle” and were a very able participant. So, let me ponder this a bit, and see what you might be ready for next.”

Father Viktor went into deep meditation for five minutes or so, emerging with a thoughtful demeanor.

“Brother Jack, we do have several basement chambers dedicated to different purposes related to rituals of the old ways. Some are restricted to specific participants, with no visitors allowed. Then there are some that are more flexible, depending on the inclinations of their inhabitants at any given time.

“For malatya escort instance, there are the Mortification Cells where we accommodate those of our community who crave further Penance and Mortification than are provided by the Wednesday Sharing Circles in the Penance Chapel. Confidentially, two of these cells are most often occupied by the two Sisters from the nunnery who I mentioned a while ago, who seem addicted to mortifying pain which their nervous systems seem to experience as a form of pleasure. They often need servers to help administer their Mortifications or sometimes just to witness them, which seems to give them a special frisson. If that might be of interest to you, I can let you know if and when such opportunities may arise.”

“Gosh, Father Viktor, that sounds possibly interesting, but I just don’t know. Dame Taborova and Mrs. Tupa seem to crave such things, from time to time, as you know, but it always seems to be in a context of sacred love. Left to my own wishes, I generally don’t like to cause others pain.”

“A wise policy, my boy! There are many temptations to lead us astray along the path to serving others’ needs in a loving fashion. Still, if either of the Sisters requests assistance, I may run it by you. You should understand that they are as hungry for love and acceptance as our more ‘balanced’ members.”

“Fair enough, Father. I am confident that my Guardian Angel may help guide me to do the right thing.”

Father Viktor nodded, and I could feel the subtle support of my angelic twin in taking this open-ended approach.

“Still, upon further reflection, Jack my boy, I wonder if it might be a good time for you to join in the activities of the parish’s Aroma Guild, at least for an evening or two, and take part in their rituals. If you enjoy strong smells, this may be a convivial group for you. I’m a little surprised that Mrs. Tupa didn’t mention it to you already. She and Zuzana Gavenda were its co-founders and Mrs. Tupa is obviously well acquainted with its practices. I’m almost positive that she would welcome your taking part. It meets every Monday evening. Shall I give her a call and sound her out?”

“That sounds fine to me, Father. She and I have done our share of smelling and sniffing together, but I never realized that there was a parish group devoted to it.”

“Oh yes, Brother Jack, they are quite devoted, bless their souls. Of course the Aroma Guild’s members are almost entirely our parish widows, but perhaps they would enjoy a virile young man taking part in their rituals. I’ll give Anna a call as soon as we’ve finished our discussion.

* * *

And so it came to pass that the next Monday, as 7:00 p.m. approached, I found my way down through the parish tunnels to the church basement where I sought out meeting room no. 5, just down the hall from the Penance Chapel. Once again, the light was dim, and I almost missed the right door, though when I looked closely I could make out the 3″ x 5″ card taped to the door that announced the Aroma Guild.

As Father Viktor had suggested, I let myself in quietly, as the door was not locked and it was best to not create a stir. As seemed to be the norm for basement chambers, the room was candle-lit, and filled with parish widows, some of whom were naked, others half-dressed, and a few just beginning to remove their shoes. I was ten minutes early, so I should have expected a mix of bodily states, all leading to the inevitable goal of shared nudity without shame or inhibition.

Mrs. Tupa was the first to see me enter, and she rushed over to me, without hesitation, and gave me a welcoming hug.

“Jack!” she chirped, “You learning our ways and finding our meetings. You always welcome here. I think you love this. Relax and remove your clothes.”

Once again, I found myself in a room full of elderly Czech widows seemingly devoted to the Bohemian values of natural body hair, smells, and practices. I looked around at my fellow participants and soaked up their welcoming smiles. Increasingly, I was feeling at home in all the odd nooks and crannies of the parish community. There was a real communal sense of love and duty in fulfilling each others’ needs. I could feel my angelic twin fluttering around me, happy that I was in the midst of such a positive crowd.

* * *

All of us were hastening to be fully nude, a natural state that the Bohemians often referred to as “being open”. Beside the charming sight of so many ladies unveiling their short, hairy, and voluptuous bodies, I was almost bowled over by their strong collective body odors. Just as the church’s clergy were encouraged to put off bathing for at least a week at a time — the better to overcome any shame they felt for “being open” — so the escort malatya devoted members of the Aroma Guild stunk to high heaven, creating a thick atmosphere of arousing pheromones which caused my prick to stiffen and extend itself to its utmost. The eyes of everyone present seemed to be fixed upon my boner, which had begun to drip pre-cum down the length of its shaft.

Mrs. Tupa clapped to bring the meeting to order, causing the murmurs to quiet and the elderly widows to display expectant grins of a lascivious sort.

“Ladies! The Almighty bless us tonight with presence of Brother Jack, our popular young catechumen and lay server. Please welcome Jack with loving Embrace of Eden.”

I don’t know if you’ve ever experienced the sudden stampede of a dozen naked and elderly ladies coming at you for a shared hug, but this was my first time and it was rather unnerving. The scene reminded me of the frenzied welcome given by a winning baseball team to a teammate who has just hit a walk-off homerun.

“Ladies, please!” I shouted, only to be surrounded and brought to my knees by the swarm of odiferous elders jockeying to embrace whatever piece of my body they could reach. I was literally scared for my life, but at the same time terribly aroused by the outpouring of love and desire directed at me. I could feel every square inch of my flesh being fondled or pinched by spindly old fingers. One old gal, who I recognized as Mrs. Tupa’s close friend, Mrs. Gavenda, was down at my feet, with my toes jammed in her mouth, sucking them madly.

Finally, the frenzy subsided as Mrs. Tupa barked out some stern orders in Czech and got the members of the Aroma Guild to return to some semblance of decorum. For my benefit, she tried her best to conduct the meeting in English.

“Guild members, listen good! Jack be very kind to join us tonight. Please do not kill goose that lay golden eggs. Usually, we just smell and taste each other, but tonight be special. Jack have very strong man stink! You all want smell, I know, but we must keep order. Father Viktor suggest that each member have five minutes to smell, taste, and return favor with Jack. I keep timer and you must stop when bell ring. Then it next member turn. We go in reverse order by name, so Zuzana be first.”

Mrs. Gavenda gave a little squeal of delight at this welcome news. I was more flabbergasted than anything. It felt rather like Father Viktor had signed me up for an assembly-line gang-bang conducted by a dozen horny grannies, not that I was going to complain. My guardian angel was flapping her invisible wings excitedly, apparently convinced that this evening’s activities would be a giant blessing for all concerned.

Mrs. Tupa, aided by Mrs. Gavenda, went over to a double-door closet and rolled out a nicely made-up bed on wheels, which was placed in the center of the room with comfortable chairs arranged around it, affording the members ring-side seats. Mrs. Tupa turned to me and gave me a gentle pat on my buns.

“This okay, Jack? In olden times, this be conducted on church altar, but we prefer Sealy Posturepedic with Memory Foam. It more comfortable. I tell members that they not allowed to make your wiener squirt. Early cock squirt make for bad ritual. Maybe at end, if you like. Up to you. But ladies allowed to cum and squirt at any time. This ritual be very exciting to everyone. You see.”

Anna then turned to her fellow Guild members and explained the rules for this special occasion in Czech. The ladies gave knowing looks to each other, clearly keyed up for what amounted to a sacred orgy condoned by the church. The aroma of their excited pussies and sweaty bodies gave the proceedings a certain brothel-like atmosphere, an impression that was heightened when Mrs. Tupa switched on a red mood lamp. She then had me crawl onto the bed and lie on my back with a couple of pillows under my head for support. She helped Mrs. Gavenda onto the bed and then took a seat by the top, making a show of setting the timer for five minutes and telling Zuzana, “Go!”

Mrs. Gavenda lost no time in crawling all over me, pushing her nose into all my smelly crevices, holes, and hair pits, sniffing loudly and panting at the same time. About halfway through, she got into a classic “69” posture above me and lowered her hairy crotch onto my face, while her mouth first licked and then engulfed my rigid prick.

It felt like she was conscientiously refraining from pushing me over the edge, but I was grateful, nevertheless, that I had been strengthening my Cremaster muscles to hold back any semen from escaping. In response, I smushed my face all over her dripping cunt, licking her sticky labia and wedging my nose into her sphincter and snorting. Before we knew it, the timer’s bell malatya escort bayan rang, and Zuzana got off the bed with Mrs. Tupa’s assistance, and found her seat.

It seemed like five minutes was just enough time to get us all hot and bothered, but not quite enough to call it a wrap. While enjoying her view of the next Guild member exploring my body, Zuzana sat back in her chair and wantonly diddled herself to a whimpering climax. She was not alone, as I could hear little cries and gasps from around the bed, as our shameless widows masturbated together in a kind of feminine circle jerk.

Every five minutes, the bell would ring, and roughly the same ritual was performed, though no two were exactly alike. Some ladies were especially enamored of my sweaty armpits, and one sweet soul spent almost her entire time sniffing and licking my hairy scrotum. Throughout it all, Mrs. Tupa was a marvel of attentive efficiency, directing the ritual flow, setting the timer each time, and helping her fellow members get on and off the bed without losing their balance or pulling a muscle.

The whole time, my angelic twin was hovering excitedly, enfolding me and my partners in her wings and helping raise us to a heightened state of love and passion. It was the genius of the Bohemian church and its customs and old ways, that needy people who were pure of heart could perform such rituals without succumbing to selfish, exploitative lust.

To an outsider, no doubt the whole scene looked like a depraved orgy of almost anonymous sex, as I was forced to perform cunnilingus on woman after woman, but I was very attuned to their differences, not only their tastes and smells, but to their unique personalities and emotions. I already knew most of them from my house calls, and in those more extended circumstances, we each became lovers who treasured each other. It was that intimate underlying connection between us all, that made what seemed like a mad dash of ringing bells and hurried whiffs and licks, resolve itself into a flowing stream passing through our open hearts and melding us all together into a blessed community.

* * *

Finally it was time for the last member, who turned out to be Anna Tupa. We had gone from Z to A. I was rather amused that Mrs. Tupa somehow forgot to reset the timer when it was her turn, a minor oversight that worked in her favor. If no one noticed or objected, she could probably stretch our time out, which she obviously wanted. Alas, by now, my tongue was tired and sore. Nearly an hour of tonguing elderly ladies’ labia can do that to you. When she climbed onto the bed, I immediately hugged her to me and whispered in her ear.

“Anna, my dear little sweetie, can we concentrate mostly on sniffing and whiffing, right now? My tongue feels ready to fall right off from licking all the pusses that preceded you. I’ll make it up to you next Friday when we have our night together, I swear, but right now I’m afraid that I am all licked out.”

Mrs. Tupa smiled sympathetically and gave me her own personal Embrace of Eden which easily beat the Guild’s initial hugging melee that had descended into chaos. Mrs. Tupa might seem a simple soul, but when she opened her heart and I opened mine, we fell into eternity. My angelic twin enwrapped us in her wings and it felt like we were falling in love, over and over and over.

We didn’t even feel the obligation to smell each other before the onlookers surrounding our bed. We just remained in our silent embrace and dozed off, until the Aroma Guild got the picture and quietly dressed and departed. My guardian angel roused us from our slumber around midnight, and we put out the candles and I walked with Mrs. Tupa down the tunnel to the Rectory and brought her up to my room to sleep-over in my bed. It was far too late to walk her home at that hour of the night, and it felt best to just cuddle together and sleep.

* * *

We woke up early enough the next morning, to wash up and go down and put the Guild room in order, and then join in the communal breakfast for the Rectory and Nunnery clergy. Mrs. Tupa was embraced by Father Viktor and Mother Magdalene as a dear soul who was always welcome at any of our communal meals. Sister Katka spied us together and came over to be introduced to Mrs. Tupa and pay her respects. She seemed to understand that without Mrs. Tupa’s advances to me and her role in drawing me into the parish, things might have turned out much differently for her and the parish at large.

Best of all, when I walked Mrs. Tupa home after breakfast that morning, she seemed to be in a blissful state, totally at home with all that had happened. I brought her into her living room, hugged her tightly and turned about to leave. She hugged me again and we briefly merged. My angelic twin fluttered and then let us go. I gave Mrs. Tupa a fond wave as I climbed down her front steps and then set off down the street to check in at the church office to see what my schedule was for the day.

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