Son of a Preacher Man

What is it about the unobtainable things in life that makes them so alluring? Is it the thrill of the chase, even when we know that it has a foregone conclusion? Is it the air of mystery, the spirit of the unknown that draws us to these illicit treasures like moths to the flame? Everyone says that the forbidden fruit is always the sweetest, but why?

These thoughts, and many more like them, were running through my head when I first laid eyes upon Tommy. Thomas Bryan. The new senior on campus, intelligent and athletic, completely unobtainable.

I knew that he'd transferred over from one of the most conservative schools in the state. I knew that his father was a minister in one of the most fundamentally right-wing churches in the area. I knew that he'd never had a serious girlfriend, never done anything sexual, and never said anything about gays except that we were devilspawn sent to Earth to corrupt the world's children into a life of sin.

But when I let my gaze fall upon his delicate features, his feathery black hair and bright, eager eyes, when I traced his perfectly proportioned body and lightly tanned skin with my eyes, I wanted him.

At the first available opportunity, which was lunch on his first day, I went up to him and, holding out my hand, welcomed him to our school and introduced myself.

He reached out to shake, but upon hearing my name stiffened and dropped his arm back to his side. "I hear you're a faggot," he said quietly enough that no one else could hear his words. "I hear you're a flaming homosexual, and I don't want anything to do with you."

I smiled as brightly as I could and murmured something about not judging people before you get to know them, but he had already gathered his tray and walked off. But this disastrous first meeting, far from crushing my spirits, had only strengthened my resolve: I wanted him more than anything or anyone else, and I knew that I would have him or die trying.

For the next few days, it looked like I was going to die trying. I'd made no secret of my sexuality to the student population, and while the majority of my fellows were either supportive or indifferent, there was a small but determined core of anti-gay sentiment... and they, naturally, were the ones my Tommy gravitated towards. They did not take kindly to the idea of someone like me getting to know their new idol, and while I was prudent enough to flee before things became too serious, I knew that it was only a matter of time before they would grow tired of mere pushing and shoving.

So I waited, and watched, and listened.

Tommy, it transpired, spent very little time with friends, and tended to go straight home after school most days. His mother worked full-time, and while his father was generally there to greet him (he preached every morning and every evening, but spent the afternoons writing his next sermons) he took frequent trips out-of-state to go to minister's conferences and those sorts of religious conventions. This meant that, for all intents and purposes, he was alone at home from 4:00 in the afternoon until 8:00 at night on the weekdays.

I am not normally a violent person, nor do I generally resort so quickly to criminal tendencies, but my infatuation with young Mr. Bryan had reached a level of obsession. I could not see him or even think of him without becoming utterly aroused, and I knew that such a violently homophobic person would never consent to anything I had in mind, so I knew that I would have to take drastic action to demonstrate the depth of my affection.

One bright sunny day, I ran off campus as soon as the bell rang, heading straight for the house I had discretely followed Tommy to so many times before. I knew his father was off on one of his trips, as I'd watched him drive to the airport the previous night, and I'd overheard his mother calling to Tommy that she would be arriving home rather late. As I said, I do not normally take such routes to obtain information, but I was far beyond the point of desperation by now.

Letting myself into his luxurious two-story home with the spare key hidden under a potted rhododendron, I prepared for the object of my affection's arrival with my heart feeling like it would burst out of my chest. Finally, three minutes before four, I was ready; as I took up a position just beside the door I heard casual conversation coming from down the block. This gave me a moment of trepidation, as I was not prepared to deal any of Tommy's violent and brutish friends or, indeed, for anyone other than Tommy himself, but after an exchange of farewells the group dispersed and my love walked down the driveway alone, rummaging in his pocket for his keys as he did.

No sooner had he opened the door than I leapt forward, clamping a rag soaked in chloroform across his perfectly shaped pink lips. He went limp without a struggle, and I bore his warm weight gently to the floor, feeling as though electricity was coursing through the spots where his skin touched mine... but no, not yet, I told myself. You must not take advantage of someone while they cannot speak up for themselves.

Moving his unconscious body slowly and carefully, and trying hard to ignore the swelling in the front of my pants, I deposited Tommy in one of the comfortable old armchairs in the recreational room, which was windowless and filled with the expensive electronic toys that I knew most boys my age would have goggled at, but I had eyes only for him. Extricating the length of soft cord I had brought with me from my pockets, I swiftly tied Tommy to the chair, not tightly enough to be uncomfortable but not loosely enough that he would be able to wiggle his way out.

As a final precaution, I knotted a kerchief around his eyes, although why this seemed so important to me I cannot tell you. It just felt like the right thing to do.

I waited, carefully keeping my hands at my sides and trying not to think of what might happen if someone walked in on me. On us.

Gradually, as if waking from a deep sleep, Tommy regained consciousness. He lifted his head and tried to look around; it wasn't until he tried to rub his eyes that he realized that he was tied down, and it wasn't until he jerked his hands toward his naked crotch that I knew he'd realized he was wearing nothing but the cords that bound him. "Who's there?" he asked, fear readily noticeable in his sweet voice.

I said nothing and simply looked at him, admiring his form.

"Who's there?!" he shouted in a panic.

Please keep your voice down, I said calmly in a tone slightly higher and airier than I normally used, still gazing rapturously at the gentle curves and hard lines of his chest, his shoulders, his defined abs. Yelling upsets me.

I had to use a rag, as ball gags have always made me uncomfortable for some reason. Traditional bondage, the submission and humiliation and dominance, is not at all attractive to me. Tommy did not stop trying to scream until a full thirty seconds after I had knotted the cloth behind his head, at which point he sunk down into his chair and began reciting something to himself. I leaned close, trying to hear, and realized from the speed of his speech and tone audible through the gag that it was a prayer of some kind. I felt a rush of emotion in my heart towards this beautiful, scared boy.

Please don't worry, I said to him. You'll be perfectly safe. I just want to make you happy.

He did not stop reciting his prayers, and a single tear rolled down from behind the blindfold. I reached out and brushed it away; he recoiled from my touch.

Imagine a woman, I said over the constant mumble of muffled prayers. Imagine the most beautiful woman you've ever seen. She is tall and blonde, with... I hesitated, not sure what men find most attractive in women. With large breasts, long legs, and a very pretty face. She is standing in front of you, wearing a long dress, and she is smiling.

I watched his bare penis closely, but there was no sign of movement. The prayers continued, and I moved a step closer.

This woman takes off her dress, I told Tommy. Beneath it she is wearing nothing. She stands in front of you and massages her large breasts, staring into your eyes.

The penis gave a small twitch. Moving forward even more, I close my eyes. She tells you she wants you, I say, my lips inches from the boy's ear. She tells you she wants you more than anything, and then she kneels before you and places her hands on your legs.

I suited actions to words, gently placing my hands on Tommy's toned and tanned thighs. He jerked, trying to get away, but could not break his bonds, and resumed his prayers with even greater intensity.

She leans forward, I said, and takes your erection into her mouth. And, my whole body quivering with anticipation and excitement, I maneuvered with my tongue and suckled the very tip of his still mostly flaccid penis.

The reaction was immediate. His hands clenched tight on the arms of the chair and his whole body went rigid; I could almost feel his thoughts, every ounce of his concentration focused on keeping his penis as limp and unresponsive as possible. He began trying to shout again, the god-fearing words barely audible through the gag.

There was no need for more words on my part. I slowly drew the full length of his penis into my mouth -- no great task, as it was still determinately wilted as ever -- and began running my tongue in circles around the circumcised head, feeling the changes in texture as the tip of my tongue ran lightly here and there over the now slowly hardening member.

He struggled, trying to pull himself away and biting and tearing at the gag, but even my darling Tommy could not resist temptation forever, and finally I was sliding my lips over the erect length of his penis. Back and forth I rocked, applying suction every time I moved forward and flicking my tongue every time I moved back, and I knew that he must have been feeling even more pleasure than I was. He still feebly tried to gasp out prayers, but his words were punctuated with gasps and muffled moans.

Without warning he jerked, and his penis leapt in my mouth; grasping his hips, I forced myself forward as far as I could. The entire penis disappeared into my mouth, its tip brushing the back of my throat, and I felt thin pubic hair against my lips and nose as he convulsed and spurts of the hot liquid poured into me. I swallowed and swallowed again, relishing the light-headedness that resulted from lack of oxygen as I held my position, and only moved back when I was sure he had finished coming.

He was shaking all over now, tears glistening on his cheeks, convinced that this was wrong and hating himself for enjoying it. I smiled reassuringly, even though I knew he could not see it, and licked my lips before reaching down for the small plastic bottle I had also brought with me, lying atop the pile of our mingled clothes.

The woman, I said, smiles at you again and stands before you. She parts her legs slightly to reveal -- and here I shuddered, but pressed on -- the slit there, dripping with the anticipation of making love to you.

The praying stopped completely, and my Tommy was silent apart from his ragged breaths. I poured a small amount of liquid from the bottle into my hand and gently began rubbing it over his semi-erect penis, which quickly hardened again despite his sounds and struggles of protest.

She climbs atop your lap, I said. I squat facing, my legs on either side of his, with my quivering anus directly above his now lubricated penis. Then she slowly slides down onto you, and you feel your throbbing-

I broke off, pushing outward as his penis slid smoothly into me, and gritted my teeth at the familiar hot rush of pain that accompanied it. The look on Tommy's face, though, made up for everything: it was bliss and panic, the once-in-a-lifetime combination of sheer ecstasy and absolute terror that everyone wears when they first make love. Slowly, cautiously, I began to move my whole body up and down, feeling his erection slide deeper inside me every time I descended, watching my own fully erect penis bobbing with my movements. The glistening liquid at the tip was distracting, but I forced myself to look past it at the body of the boy who was so deep inside me.

Not daring to take my eyes off of those sculpted muscles and tear-stained cheeks, I moved both of my hands from Tommy's legs and placed one on his shoulder. With the other, I began masturbating to the rhythm of my gyrating, stroking up and down, slowly increasing my speed until I felt as though my anus were being torn open... but I also felt a rush of pleasure through the heated agony, and knew that I would not be able to hold back my orgasm for long.

Our panting breaths increased in volume, and as we both began to quiver I reached out and tore the gag from Tommy's mouth. We cried out together, and I felt his hot semen pouring into me as my own white fluid shot in ropy streaks all over his perfect chest and stomach.

We sat there, still pinned together, panting, until I felt that my legs would support me again. Standing somewhat shakily, I picked up the towel I had previously placed nearby and vigorously wiped off the trails of my semen that draped Tommy's still silent form. Then, after putting on my clothes as quickly as I could, I leaned in close and kissed him on those wonderful lips. For a split second he tried to pull back, but then he leaned into it and reciprocated. It was glorious, even better than the sex had been, and then in one quick move I yanked loose the knot holding his left arm and ran for the front door.

He never did find out who had done it. Tommy never spoke of what had happened to anyone, but I did notice him wandering through crowds of people during many lunches and in between classes, ears perked up for a sign of the high voice I had used. But I felt no need to tell him; why would I? For I had achieved the impossible and tasted that which I should not have, and it was wonderful.