Google translated text, original italian story here: Il Confessionale – Prima Parte
I read a lot of stories about incest, real or supposed to be so, and I tried to get ideas from them to try to conquer this kind of “affection” from my mother, a goody-goody to be made in all sauces, but there was nothing to do, indeed, once I was even thrown out of the house for a joke too much.
So I turned to other perversions. The idea jumped into my mind during one of the many wanderings I made at the mall to help my mother with the shopping bags. One of these days I was attracted by a store that sold strange stuff, I think it was dmail, among the many things there was something that tickled my fancy: a micro camera. It was really microscopic, it looked like a button, then from here started the cables to which you had to connect other video equipment to be able to see the captured signal. Two versions were sold, one in color and the other in black and white, respectively 99 euros one and 45 the other, too much for my pockets at the time, but enough to give me strange ideas. In the end I bought, since it was on offer at a very low price, a mini cassette recorder, I wanted to use it for a particular whim of mine. I cannot hide the fact that the first use I had in mind for the micro-camera was to use it in my mother’s room, but by then I was abandoning that track. What I set out to do was to hide the tape recorder I had bought in a confessional and listen to what was being said by the penitents to the priest…
I know, it’s a rather questionable thing, but I wanted to get rid of my curiosity to know what the fuck is being said in that place. I chose for convenience the church that was close to home and, for a couple of days I studied well how the confessional was made, I confessed myself to find out the best place to place the recorder. The place was located in a recess of the church, almost a niche, this gave more privacy to the confessed who found himself with his back almost to the wall and the confessional in front of him. During confession one knelt on a very “smelly” support that did not tire the poor knees and there was a small window with a grill that the confessor opened when one wanted to confess. I noticed during my visit that the parish priest was no longer that old, unpleasant old fart that I had met during my compulsory “catechetical” visits a few years ago… he was a nice guy, who was also nice, something rare in this field. The visit was useful in finding the right place to hide the recorder.
With an excuse I managed to find out the day and time when there was the maximum number of parishioners in the confessional, so as to use that time frame for my recordings. I waited impatiently for the moment of action to arrive and I tried to be the first to confess so that I could immediately hide the device and not miss anything of the confessions. Unfortunately I was only the third, but since the first to confess were two old ladies, I didn’t worry too much. In the evening I went to retrieve the “fruit” of my idea and I rushed to my room to listen to the tape, I felt like a child in the act of unwrapping his first easter egg and the “surprise” as often happens, I left a bitter taste in my mouth. Four hours of lp tape wasted, not a single minute was saved, at the end of listening I was agonizing … only confessions of old ladies and grandfathers without the slightest interest. I had got it all wrong, I had to expect that at peak times there would be a “hard core” of listeners. I had to find the right time to record more interesting things. Just as I was trying to figure out how to erase all that crap, I noticed a little button on the recorder that I had promised myself I would check on the instructions, but in my haste to put my plan into action, I had forgotten. Surprise!…it was just what I needed…the button activated the automatic recording mode in the presence of sounds, so I could leave the recorder whenever I wanted and it would start working when necessary. At that moment there was a knock on my mother’s door to tell me to come down for dinner. I had almost forgotten her, this idea of mine had momentarily removed her from my mind, but how can you get rid of an obsession if during the day, at least twice a day, you hit it with a hammer and push it in even further. Today, then, she was dressed in a tight little black dress that enhanced her shape in a way that left little to the imagination. The mega neckline was the coup de grace. During dinner I was always looking forward to one particular moment: fruit time. My mom always ate a banana and a low-fat yogurt in the evening and, depending on how he turned them, the methods were different: it happened that he ate first one thing and then the other with random orders, that he put the yogurt in a cup and cut the fruit into slices or, my favorite , soak the banana and eat it. When he did that he made me so horny that the table was almost lifted. That evening I will never know how he would have done … in the act of opening the yogurt, in fact, due to the faulty opening, he made too much force and made a lot of it fall into the neckline. Of course I didn’t waste time and like a flash I rushed with the handkerchief to clean it, but as soon as I put my hand down I found another one printed on my face … language and she would have done some nice service to him to repay him using the same technique … in my house this is called science fiction. The next day I fixed the recorder with the sound recognition button activated and hoped for better luck. That evening of that Monday will always remain with me, I wasn’t as excited as the first time because I was upset and didn’t expect much. In fact at first I was sorry, the sound function did not work so well because the priest’s voice did not arrive loud enough to activate it and if the penitent spoke softly or had long pauses the recorder would turn off and when it was reactivated the beginning was lost of the sentence. Problems aside, the talks this time around were interesting, mostly of women who had temptations, desires, or dreams a little too rough for their faith and were seeking absolution. Listening to all this amused me, but nothing more, I would have expected something more until I realized that my mother had also gone to confession … I was stunned, I stopped the tape and tried to recover from the emotion. I never expected it, my mother had never gone to church that I knew of and this left me somewhat perplexed and even more curious to hear what she had to say.
End of the first part