tagGay MaleRev Jim & Father Ted

Rev Jim & Father Ted

by80niner©

Part One

Paul stopped me outside our high school gyn after last class. We were both seniors and skipped last class.

He said, “You’re pretty good with a basketball. I was wondering if you’d like to stop by our church gym and shoot a few hoops after school.”

I hesitated.

“Jim, I mean Reverend Jim, most always plays with us. You’ll like him,” said Paul, “he’s not a bit like a preacher.”

“I’m not religious but I guess the church won’t fall down if I stop by for a while.”

“Reverend Jim says you Methodists are too stodgy and preach too much about sin. He says we Free Christians have a better outlook.”

“Methodists are Christians,” I pointed out.

“He’s talking about us members of the Free, United Church of God” said Paul. “Stop by. You’ll enjoy it.”

I was a bit relieved that he wasn’t propositioning me. The rumor was that Paul might be totally gay. I figured not much could go wrong on church property, especially with the preacher around.

Paul looked at my feet. “Bring your own gym shoes. We have jock straps and a uniform you can wear. And there’s towels so you can shower after. You won’t have to go home sweaty.”

***

Half a dozen boys were fooling around, shooting hoops in the musty gym. The doors were closed. The athletic aroma of stale sweat hung heavily in the air. Some of the boys I recognised. One, I knew, was from the Catholic school down the block. Another man, though I thought I must be wrong, appeared to be the middle aged priest from his church. Paul waved at me and then directed me downstairs to a small locker room and told me to look into locker #17. “I picked out everything for you,” he said. The narrow room held perhaps twenty lockers, ten on a side. A long bench ran down the middle. Working on a knotted shoelace, sat a man I took to be in his early thirties. On seeing me he rose quickly and extended his hand. “I’m Reverend Jim. You must be Jay. Paul said you might drop by.” The preacher was totally naked.

I took the hand and tried not to look down at a limp penis emerging from the thick mass of red pubic hair and heavy, low slung balls.

“Excuse the attire,” said the man. He smiled and set the shoe aside. Suit up and we’ll join the others.” He pulled a jock strap from his locker and stepped into it.

I undressed quickly, turning my back when I shed my pants and adjusted my jock strap. I felt his eyes caressing my bare buns.

“We hide nothing in the eyes of God,” said Reverend Jim, softly. “We glory in our every likeness to him.”

I waited, half expecting a hand to grab my bare butt. When I turned, The man had donnned white shorts and a T-shirt. He sat to pull on a pair of white wool socks and laced his expensive, leather-tops, basketball shoes. He waited for me to lace my shoes then led the way up the narrow stairs to the gym. Looking up, I watched the strudy, muscular thighs and wondered at the fineness os after school.”

I hesitated.

“Jim, I mean Reverend Jim, most always plays with us. You’ll like him,” said Paul, “he’s not a bit like a preacher.”

“I’m not religious but I guess the church won’t fall down if I stop by for a while.”

“Reverend Jim says you Methodists are too stodgy and preach too much about sin. He says we Free Christians have a better outlook.”

“Methodists are Christians,” I pointed out.

“He’s talking about us members of the Free, United Church of God” said Paul. “Stop by. You’ll enjoy it.”

I was a bit relieved that he wasn’t propositioning me. The rumor was that Paul might be totally gay. I figured not much could go wrong on church property, especially with the preacher around.

Paul looked at my feet. “Bring your own gym shoes. We have jock straps and a uniform you can wear. And there’s towels so you can shower after. You won’t have to go home sweaty.”

***

Half a dozen boys were fooling around, shooting hoops in the musty gym. The doors were closed. The athletic aroma of stale sweat hung heavily in the air. Some of the boys I recognised. One, I knew, was from the Catholic school down the block. Another man, though I thought I must be wrong, appeared to be the middle aged priest from his church. Paul waved at me and then directed me downstairs to a small locker room and told me to look into locker #17. “I picked out everything for you,” he said. The narrow room held perhaps twenty lockers, ten on a side. A long bench ran down the middle. Working on a knotted shoelace, sat a man I took to be in his early thirties. On seeing me he rose quickly and extended his hand. “I’m Reverend Jim. You must be Jay. Paul said you might drop by.” The preacher was totally naked.

I took the hand and tried not to look down at a limp penis emerging from the thick mass of red pubic hair and heavy, low slung balls.

“Excuse the attire,” said the man. He smiled and set the shoe aside. Suit up and we’ll join the others.” He pulled a jock strap from his locker and stepped into it.

I undressed quickly, turning my back when I shed my pants and adjusted my jock strap. I felt his eyes caressing my bare buns.

“We hide nothing in the eyes of God,” said Reverend Jim, softly. “We glory in our every likeness to him.”

I waited, half expecting a hand to grab my bare butt. When I turned, The man had donnned white shorts and a T-shirt. He sat to pull on a pair of white wool socks and laced his expensive, leather-tops, basketball shoes. He waited for me to lace my shoes then led the way up the narrow stairs to the gym. Looking up, I watched the strudy, muscular thighs and wondered at the fineness of those curly, golden hairs gleaming on tanned skin. We wound up playing four on four. Some of the guys were pretty good. Nobody called fouls. Preach played on the opposing team. The game never got rough but there was a lot more grab-ass than coach would have tolerated in gym period. My buns were squeezed, patted and slapped numerous times and more than once I felt a hand cup my balls or brush my cock surreptitiously. Of course there was the usual rubbing against each other under the basket but I got the impression that there was more than soft crotches pressuring my butt.

After the game, in which nobody had seemed to keep score, the eight of us jammed into the locker room, stripped and crowded into the small shower stall with only three shower heads for eight to share. Wet naked bodies rubbed against each other with much hollering, laughing as we soaped and pressed for a place under a pulsing shower head.

The pressure became more intense as we soaped our groins and though no one threw a boner there were signs of growth in most pelvic regions. As we rinsed off, weightier pendulums swung from their pivots and most seemed to take pride in their size. Definitely, Reverend Jim‘s mass had increased in that department though he seemed to take no notice of it. The man I took to be a priest was confirmed as Father Ted when Lew Burke from the Catholic school called him that. Father Ted was thin with a mass of back curly hair covering his chest and though thinning a bit at his navel became a thick mass again at his crotch from which a thick, stubby cock emerged. The man never strayed far from Burke who was half again as large and towered over the mature priest.

We filed back to the locker room and toweled ourselves dry. There was a certain amount of horseplay, the snapping of towels at bare butts. I got one good one on my tail. It still stung when Reverend Jim clapped his hands.

“All right, boys. Time to offer thanks.”

The boys, still naked, three on each side, stood facing each other across the narrow bench deviding the narrow room. The Reverend stood at one end, Father Ted at the other. All eyes focused on the minister’s mid section. His cock had become rather heavily elongated. A pink head peeked from a retreating foreskin. The expanding cock was not yet as large as others in the room. There was no doubt that Paul’s dong exceeded all others in length if not in thickness. The priest’s thick cock also appeared to be growing. Some of the others appeared close to full erection as though in anticipation.

“Oh Lord we thank thee for the presence of one who has not been present before. We thank him for his attendance and beg him to partake in our services.” The minister of God looked to me. “Will you join us?”

“What do I have to do?”

Preacher Jim smiled, benignly. “Nothing is expected that you have not done in the past. Nothing is asked that you will not enjoy.”

I looked to Paul who nodded his assent.

“Our non-denominational, holy rites, blessed by our lord, were surely practiced among his deciples. You may participate only in those things you feel open to. No one will force you to do what you do not care to.”

“You’ll like it, Jay,” said Paul, standing across from me.

I nodded. “All right.”

The minister closed his eyes and looked heavenward, ”We ask Your blessing, Oh Lord, and we purify ourselves in each other’s presence. Amen.”

“Amen,” said everyone. The priest’s voice was deeper that the rest.

The preacher grasped his cock in his right hand. Magically, it seemed, it had doubled in size. I looked around the room. The others held their erections in their fists. Each faced a partner and a churning fist and the emergence and withdrawal of a cylinder of hard flesh.

“The Lord bless us,” grunted the minister.”

“The Lord bless us,” repeated the chorus.

“The Lord bless us.” I parroted as my hand moved on my cock, suddenly as hard any in the room.”

“We purify ourselves in thy presence, Oh Lord.”

I joined the others in response.

The Preacher gritted his teeth and moaned. “Thy will be done.” His fist slowed and squeezed. The purplish-red head of the glans expanded and the first shot of man juice spurted beyond his fist and splashed on the bench in front of us.

One by one, each muttered, “Thy will be done,” and spurted his climax onto the bench before him. We all stripped the last drops from a dripping member. A moist cloth was passed among us and we wiped off any residue. Everyone dressed quickly and left.

As Paul and I lwent out, Reverend Jim stood at the door. He smiled. “Glad you came, Jay. I hope you enjoyed our little exercise.”

I nodded and smiled at his choice of words.

“I trust you won’t breathe a word of our ceremony to outsiders.”

“No sir.”

“I hope you understand that our ritual helps you avoid temptation. Healthy exercise and a release of our bodily fluids cleanses our systems and clears our brains.” He hugged Paul. “This young man is a pillar in the church. An upstanding young man, aren’t you Paul?”

“I hope so, Jim.”

Jim patted me on the ass. “We hope to see you again.” Then to Paul, “Be sure to bring your friend back. He’ll love us once he gets into it.”

We had walked almost a block from the church in silence before Paul turned to me. “Are you mad at me for taking you there?”

“More like I was surprised.”

“Didn’t you enjoy it?”

“I never expected to circle jerk with a preacher and a priest.”

“Isn’t Jim neat? He understands that a guy needs to get his pecker off. Hell. Everybody beats his meat once in a while.”

“I guess,” I said, “but a preacher showing hard cock? And the priest jacking off with a member of his church, probably an altar boy.”

“Jim says we all have the right to feel good as long as we don’t hurt anybody. Did you check out the boner on Father Ted? He’s bigger around than a cucumber.”

I nodded. I bet he could really make a woman squeal.”

“Priests aren’t allowed to be with women.”

“What about altar boys?”

“I think he’s screwing Lew. Lew walks kind of funny sometimes. Can you imagine having that salami rammed up your tail?”

“It hurts just thinking about it.”

We paused at the corner, two blocks from my house. Paul lived half a block down a side street. “Want to stop off at my house? Mom won’t be home for another hour at least.”

“What for?”

Paul smiled. “Maybe something will come up.” He looked at my crotch, meaningfully. “Maybe it already has.”

“I don’t know. We did that once today. Isn’t that why Jim said we did it, to stop temptation?”

“Jim also says tthe best way to kill temptation is to yield to it.” Paul was right. I was getting hard. “I can’t stay long.”

Once inside his front door and having called out to make sure his mother was not home, Paul led us to his room. He kicked off his shoes and, opening his belt, dropped his pants and kicked them across the room. His shirt and shorts followed. His near erection flopped against his thigh. He moved his hips to make it swing, pendulum fashion as it thickened. “Do you want it?” Paul teased.

I tossed the last of my clothes in a heap by the bed. “You mean to play with?”

“Any old way you want,” said Paul. “I want to play with yours.”

“I guess we could help each other,” I said. “We’ve done that.” I reached out and felt Paul’s salami expand further in my hand. I manipulated the skin up over the head and back down.

“So fucking good,” breathed Paul. “A strange hand always feels better, but what I really want is to suck on it,”

“That’s pretty queer.”

“I am queer,” said Paul, “I dream about getting you in my mouth.”

“Have you really sucked a cock all the way?”

Paul nodded. “Not as much as I’d like.” He looked down at my cock in my hand. “You don’t have to do me.”

I let go of him and fell back on the bed and waved my pulsing boner at him. “Well c’mon,” I whispered,” do you want to chew this weinie or not?”

Paul lay with his long, slim schlong facing me as he swallowed my cock. I toyed with his, worked it, teased it with my fingers while I twisted and made fucking motions in that warm, wet, suctioning mouth. I came and Paul shot off in my hand.

***

“Take your neighbor in your hand and repeat after me,” said Reverend Jim. We stood, wet and naked, after leaving the shower room for the locker room under the church gym. It was the third or fourth time I had been there with Paul. Tom Acher, a pimply faced youth, an inch taller and probably an inch longer than me, reached over and grasped my pecker. I glanced down and noticed that some one held his in the same way. I grasped my neighbor who, this day, happened to be Father Ted. It was the first mature man’s cock I ever touched. It felt huge. He looked at me and winked. On his far side, he held Lew Burkes slender cock in his fingers. I looked around and saw each boy hoding the rod of the boy or man on his right.

“I must love my neighbor as myself,” said Jim.

“I must love my neighbor as myself,” we all repeated. Tom gave me a special squeeze and thinking that was a part of the ritual I squeezed the man on my right. There was an answering throb.

“As my neighbor loves me I will love him.”

We chanted the response.

“Let us all love one another, Amen.”

As the “Amen” left his lips the Reverend turned and presented his smooth, plump ass tthe room. As he bent forward, he reached out on either side of him and took the unattended cocks of the nearest boys, one in each hand and squeezed each growing cock three times.

“Now,” said the minister, “who would administer to God’s suplicant?”

“We will,” replied everyone but me.

Forming a line I watched each boy approach the man who held his ass raised in the air. Each in turn, knelt and kissed on one or the other of the broad, hairy, ass cheeks. Then Each dipped his finger in a pot of oily substance and smeared a daub on the winking asshole of the prostrate man. Some, I am sure penetrated the forbidden place.

As the priest knelt to place his lips on the ass in front of him, Paul looked to me, a question in his eyes.

I shrugged. I could play their game to a point. Beyond that I would not go. I knelt and leaned forward to touch my lips to the preachers nether cheek. I did not touch the pot or the target.

The man still in the attitude of submission must have been counting. Again he said, “Amen.” He paused. “Is there one who would deliver his special offering to the annointed place?”

It occurred to me that Reverend Jim was asking for a volunteer to cornhole him.

I looked around. Everyone had a stiff instrument sticking out. Some were stroking themselves, others were stroking each other though not vigorousy. Paul stood apart, his erection towering to his navel. I wondered if he would volunteer.

Tom Acher, the boy who had grasped me, stepped forward. “I will.”

“Bless you, my son.”

It was very ritualized as though this were a ceremony performed often. Tom knelt behind the kneeling minister. He anointed his thick prick with oil. He moved on his knees between the other’s legs and brought his rigid instrument to the point of impact and thrust forward.

There was an audible expelling of air from the minister’s lungs as his rider sank slowly inside him until he was balls to buttocks.

“Go!” said one of the boys.

“Fuck him,” said another.

“Fuck ass for Jesus.” said another.

“I shall be crucified on a spike of flesh,” intoned the minister.

“Amen.”

“The flesh is mortified,” said the minister, “and I am penitent.”

“Amen.”

“I am about to receive a holy offering,” said the penitent.

“He will be well fucked,” said the chorus of boys.

My cock was hard and felt close to bursting.

“Amen,” moaned the preacher, “I will receive his benediction.”

“His load will be well received, deep within.” chorused the boys.

“Yea, deep within my bowels.”

“And he will remember this fuck until the next one.”

“And far beyond,” moaned the man, “for he is deep within me and shall be remembered by the depth of his stroke and the joy it brings forth.”

“I’m going to come,” shouted Tom.”

“The coming is near,” intoned the boys.

Tom groaned, thrust his hips forward and froze in that position. We all knew he was delivering his offering deep into the preacher’s ass.

Preacher Jim turned and faced us, still on his knees. His face was red and he was sweating profusely. He seemed out of breath. His swollen erection pointed toward us as we stood in a semi circle about him. He looked up. “Is there a volunteer who would draw forth the communion offering?”

Paul stepped forward. “I will.”

Jim held his cock in his fingers and in a simple gesture, offered it to the volunteer.

Paul did not hesitate. He lowered his head. His mouth enveloped the thick, short rod and his lips sank quickly to the crisp red hairs at the base. He developed a rhythm of up and down and everyone watched the cheeks hollow in suction on the up stroke.

The action against the older man’s prostrate had to have increased his load and shortened the time it took him to shoot. At the first warning, Paul removed his lips and held the swollen head over a small, silver eucharist cup. He milked the spurting contents, glob by thick glob. The minister nodded with satisfaction at the pool of semen on the botom. He smiled.

“Would our young guest care to add his contribution to the chalice?“

“Do it, Jay,” urged Paul. “I’ll help.

“I don’t know.”

He nodded at my pulsing hard on. “It’s got to come out sometime.”

“Cum,” urged one of the boys, ”let him drain your balls.”

“Join,“ encouraged another.

They all gathered around me, slowlyworking their dicks in their hands as though they feared coming too soon.

I sat on the bench. Paul, on his knees, maneuvered between mine. Before, he had merely licked until I had shot my load. This time he took it all to the base and I felt his tongue among the short hairs, tickling the upper reaches of my balls. On the first upstroke, he raised his eyes to me. He looked as though he were telling me that this was what he had been born to do. That he was a cocksucker and girls would never be a part of his life. I also knew he was my friend.

The sensations were fantastic. The guilt was there. The knowing I should not be there, doing this, was there. Most of all I knew others should not be watching. I told myself that I was not queer. I knew I enjoyed it just as much with the few older women I had been with. I told myself that what it came down to was whatever made my cock feel good was all right. It really did not make that much difference whether the holes or tlips were male or female.

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