Chapter IX: City of God

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Robert heard the footstep in the hallways all night, a fiasco had exploded short past midnight when a visiting discerner was discovered sleepwalking up and down the west wing staircase. His thumping heavy steps drew fears to the minds of many, who too scared to look outside their rooms, listened and wondered in fear at the constant knocks on the walls, as this man struck his head on the barrier time after time. By morning all commotion had died down, and all of those who had been awoken during the night walked to breakfast with visible dark signs of sleeplessness. Robert, decided to not go down for breakfast, in his room he always kept a gallon of soy milk in his mini refrigerator and cereal to accompany it.

"Thank you for tuning into KDFC 89.9 San Francisco, on this Saturday morning. Up next a little something for your morning, Concerto #6 in D by Italian contemporary of Vivaldi: Everisto Felice Dall'Abaco." Broke in a man over the radio, his deep voice reminded Robert of that of Walter. The music began a few seconds later, a whirlwind of enthusiastic violins erupted into a frenzy of notes that filling his room with such joy that made Robert smile and encouraged him to linger for five more minutes in bed.

The bed sheets were still warm, and his brand new feather pillows hugged his head whenever he came near them. Faint rays of light came in through his window's blinds, yet most of his room was dimly lit. Outside, the ruffle of the wind could be heard as it picked up leaves, and threw them in the air, the glass in the window softly palpitating. Robert stretched like a cat, his hair spread out like a pancake on the left side of his head. A gaff of air slightly moved his door, reacting to someone else's opening a door to the outside.

The boxer briefs that he wore were beginning to grow small on him, he looked down at his groin, and reached out with his hand, scratching it. The relief brought caused him a twitching sensation, his testicles moved slightly repositioning themselves, the skin of the scrotum became tighter the longer he touched them. Slowly blood began to fill his member stiffening and growing faintly evermore, his breathing slowed, when fully expanded he curled his left hands upon his girth. He slowly began to stroke it, the friction felt good, his glands shivered as the speed intensified, he had not touched himself for over a week. Masturbation, a was one of the many crosses he carried, one of the struggles he had been fighting with ever since he joined the seminary, he wasn't supposed to do it, yet sometimes he couldn't help himself.

Robert, continued relieving himself, with his free hand he grabbed his phone and went to one of his bookmark site saved on his history, the images further arousing him. He was at the point of no return, he had begun, this act was condemned as a venial sin by the church, he would have to ask penance for this act in confession. Robert closed his eyes, endorphins and dopamine running wild through his body, muscles contracting, his grip tightening, and finally climaxing to the swift and slick warm spurt which landed on his pelvis. His heart beat was racing, his arms and head tired, he laid there unmovable, taking deep breaths, feeling as his seed slid down on his fingers.

Abruptly, three quick and heavy stumps shook his door, Robert flinched, his sticky fingers spreading his load over his bedsheet and underparts, the knocking resumed after the pause, this time, more gentle and with intentions of waiting.

"Robert! It's me Walter, are you up?"

Robert, rose from bed immediately, his heart beating faster than before, he looked around him and grabbed the shirt he had worn the previous days to wipe himself, the shirt turning slightly darker when wet.

"Shit! That was my last clerical shirt." Said Robert once he had finished cleaning himself. There came one more knock on the door. "Yeah I am Walter, do you need anything?" he blurted out, quickly looking for a pair of short he had seen last night thrown on his floor.

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