H5 I thought you’d gone

A new beginning

Although it had been two years since James had sold J J Group he was still amazed at what had happened.
First the sale of J J Group. That had been prompted by the irretrievable loss of little Ben who, just over a year old had contracted meningitis and died a cruel death. When that had happened it all seemed so irrelevant. The Group, the Ferrari, the Mercs, anything that wasn’t really needed they had. The one thing they wanted had gone. Forever.
They had taken a long holiday, not as a holiday, but as a cleanser of the soul and it was lying on a sun soaked, white sandy beach when H suddenly said ‘Let’s sell’
‘Sell what?’
‘The Group’
‘I have no interest in that now. It seems so….irrelevant. It’s not what I want anymore’
‘But what would you do?’
‘I want to put the money into a Charity, I may not even get taxed on it if I do and you and I should run it’
‘A Charity?’
‘Why not?’
‘What would we give the money to?’
‘Well considering what we have just gone through with the loss of our child and what I went through as a child I would think it rather tells us where we should be focusing our energy’
It only took Benshima a second ‘Let’s do it….’

And they had. The BEN International Charity, named after their beloved little Ben, was approached by James with the same organisational mind as he had his Group. It was efficient, focussed, gave money to those that needed it and avoided those that merely wanted it.
And Senor and Senora Reyes, devastated by the death of their only grandson, had matched the amount that James had put in and offered any other help they could give. What they could give, which James didn’t have, was contacts. Jose Reyes knew most major people in the civilised world and many in the not so civilised. He got James interviews with Ministers, Prime Ministers, Captains of Industry and, the coup of coups, an audience with The Pope. That had been tremendous and James, a long time non believer in any God, started to take an interest in the subject and took tentative steps in that direction by going occasionally to Mass with Benshima.


James travelled all over the world either trying to secure money or give it away and this time he was returning from Delhi where he had seen the Vice President of India in the Prime Ministers Office to get his help with a new school that they wanted to build there. On the day of his return he had lunch with the VP; a peculiar mixture of spaghetti and Indian food.
Halfway through the flight home he dropped off to sleep and an hour later he started to get hot, his skin felt clammy and then he started to sweat. He was on fire. Sweat flooded from him. His skin burned…

He awoke with a start. His clothes were drenched and he felt groggy. In a daze he tried to get his recliner to go upright but his clothes were sticking to it. It was so hot…… With an extra effort he managed to get the seat upright and stood up. He heard someone shout ‘James’. Stumbling to the door he made a grab at the handle and missed.
‘James’ he heard again but it seemed far away.
Refocusing his eyes he retried, pressed the handle harder and it suddenly opened and H found himself engulfed by cool wind…..

Fucking hell!

What the fuck was that all about? He had nodded off in the conservatory and the sun had come from behind the house and cooked him but….
What a fucking God awful dream!
Ben was dead, he’d put all his hard earned money into a Charity, seen the Pope, the Pope of all people, gone to Mass and was flying home from Delhi. Delhi? And worst of all….worst of all… he had eaten spaghetti. Ughhh. Fucking spaghetti; fucking horrible squirmy worms in your mouth stuff….. Yuk!
He shook his head in relief
‘James’ shouted Benny again from inside the house ‘cup of tea?’
‘Benny’ he shouted back ‘I’ve just had the most horrible daymare…’


Richard woke and stretched. Seven o’clock. He looked at his wife who was trying hard to appear asleep but he knew she wasn’t. He had to be at work at eight and she at eight thirty. He pushed down the stop button on the radio and went in to the en suite where he had a nelson, then turned on the shower over the bath, drew the curtain, waited for it to get hot and got in. It wouldn’t take long but just as he was washing his face he knew he wanted to fart; an enormous, ear splitting, wall shaking, 9.5 on the Beaufart Scale fart and he tried hard to rein it in. Even after twenty years of marriage he was reluctant to let his wife think he was common or uncouth so he shouted ‘You awake yet love?’ to coincide with the rush of air from his bum.
His wife smiled. Sometimes men were so…….dim.
‘Getting up now’ she shouted back over the noise of the shower and the now receding fart. As though she cared. You don’t stop loving a man because he farts….but she did wonder if they were having too much bread…..?
He finished his shower which had only taken five minutes, got dressed and went downstairs to make them both a cup of tea and some toast. The toaster, a good deal from the local cut price supermarket was only a week old and already two of the compartments had ceased working and, true to form, he had lost the receipt. And so he had to do two pieces in two separate goes. Typical.

He kissed her goodbye and went off to a small company that manufactured cast brass beer fonts and a few minutes later she left for her admin job at a Care Company…….

On earth, as in….

The imposing cathedral rang with the choir rehearsing the Magnificat; the chorister’s beatific voices echoing through the magnificent building, going ever higher, as they should, to God in Heaven.
He walked up the aisle, kneeled in front of the cross and said a short prayer. Walking slowly to a pew he knelt again and spent further time in prayer. After a few minutes he raised his head and glanced at the confessional box, watched until someone came out, another few moments to make sure no one else was waiting and then he went silently to the waiting window to God.
He went in noiselessly, sat down. ‘Bless me Father for I have sinned’
‘How long is it since you last confessed my child?’ asked the priest in the adjoining dark cubicle.
‘Too long Father’
‘The eyes of the Lord watch you at all times my child. He sees you. He knows what you do and He waits for you to atone.’
‘Yes Father’
‘In what way have you sinned my child?’
There was a long pause ‘It’s very difficult Father’
‘The Lord will be the Judge of that my child; please….go on’
‘I am also a priest Father…..from a tiny parish many miles from here…….’
‘Yes my son…..’ said the Father softly.
‘……….In that parish we…..I….cultivate a family environment where families can congregate and enjoy communal pursuits…..’
‘As God would want it’ said the Father, then waited for him to continue
‘Within those………pursuits there are many which involve the children of the parish……’
He felt his penis begin to stir……children….little, angelic children…soft skin…..tight cunts…..tight arses……wet mouths.
‘Yes my child….?’
Just the thought of them was getting him harder. Oh Holy Mother of God……. A tingling sensation ran through his body….. Oh Christ. Oh Christ…..
‘Go on my child’
‘I enjoy the company of the children…..’
The Father waited…..
‘I enjoy…….touching them…..’ It was a couple of minutes before he continued ‘I enjoy…..touching them…….everywhere….’
He was rock hard now and his mind and body were on fire. After several moments the Father said ‘There is more my child? More than touching?’
He slowly and quietly undid his zip, pulled his pants over his penis and took it out. Holding it in his left hand he started to move it up and down.
‘My child…..?’
‘I use them Father….’
‘Use them? In what way do you use them my child?’
‘You are safe here my child…..’
‘I have………. carnal relations with them’
‘You have……..sex….with them?’
‘Yes Father’
‘With the little children?’
‘Yes father’
It was several moment before the Father said anything ‘All the little children?