Angel in Church
by Ashley Hardric ©2005
This is a work of fiction. That means it is not true. Didn’t happen. It’s a figment. No boys were involved or harmed in the writing of this story and no trees were sacrificed. The author does not condone sex with boys; he just writes fantasies about it. Further, sex in reality requires caution and protection, but my characters won’t catch any bad bugs unless I write them in. Be safe and legal in the real world, and enjoy the story only if you are of age and location to legally do so.
Note: the church portrayed in this story is left deliberately unidentified. It might be any of several denominations. No criticism of any church or religious persons is intended; it's just a story!
**This story is the property of the author and may not be reproduced elsewhere (i.e. other than Nifty Archives) without his permission.**
God sent me an angel in church today. He was one of the altar boys, and he was perfect. Maybe thirteen, maybe fourteen, pubescent and perfect. Fair skin adorned with just the faintest dusting of golden down, rosy cheeks, lustrous light brown hair... he was the embodiment of a boylover’s fantasy. And he was sitting next to me all through the service. With a prominent hardon for most of it.
Acolytes’ rules were quite strict, and when the hands were not used to carry things, they were to be clasped together just below the breastbone. And since we sat facing the clergy, there was not a single moment when he could even attempt to adjust himself. Apparently he’d worn boxers and baggies under his vestments, because after he erected the lap tent during the Epistle lesson, he stuck out nearly diagonal, maybe forty or forty-five degrees upward, standing or sitting. He was a good sized boy in that department, and his robe clearly hung differently from its usual drape.
Four of us were crammed into a short bench designed for three, so even if I’d wanted to give him some room, I could not have. As it was, his appearance and condition were what was keeping me awake during this boring service. I pressed my leg against his as much as I could.
I’m a seminarian this year, too old to serve as altar boy anymore, but too young to assist in the service. Mostly, I just vest, process in and out, and look decorative. The only challenge is staying awake, most days. I was wide awake this morning, though. Bet on that.
After the recessional hymn and dismissal we headed downstairs to unvest. My angel was ahead of the choir, and I was behind, so he got a head start downstairs to the acolytes’ vesting room. I knew exactly where he was going, though, and did not worry about losing track of him. The clergy changed in their own room next to the Sacristy, and the choir was across the hall. We altar boys got the old leftover closets in the basement, which suited us fine. The clergy never came down--they had an intercom to summon us--and the choir never thought to bother us either. Behind our vesting room was an old utility room; I guess it had been a boiler room before the new climate control system had been put in. It was the special place of us boys. When someone managed to swipe a bottle of communion wine, we hid it here. When we needed to hide from an angry priest, we came here. When someone needed relief following a session with a thoughtless priest, he came here. Some of the priests were really good about helping us boys get off after they used us for sex, but some just didn’t care, or worse, like Father McNally who got off on abusing his boys. So if you got one of those, you probably needed some sexual relief, as well as some cleaning up, and maybe some first aid. We used the utility room for all that. It was well understood that while privacy was not expected in the room, mutual understanding and support was.
So when I walked in on my angel to find him with his cassock
opened, his pants down to his thighs, and his stiff dick in his hand,
he was neither surprised nor disturbed.
“You go to hell for cumstains on the cassock, Angelo,” I told him as I slipped that garment off his shoulders, and placed it over the back of an old folding chair. “And your mom will kill you if you ruin your church shirt.” I turned him to face me and unbuttoned his white oxford shirt, slipping that off his smooth shoulders as well and running my hands down his immature chest and tummy to his crotch. His hardon stuck out as it had all through church, a bit narrow yet, but long and straight and perfect. No more than a half inch band of very soft light brown hairs surrounded the base of his uncut cock. I stroked him gently, and then pulled his foreskin back, fully revealing his shiny pink glans and the oozing precum that appeared at its tip. I had two goals: to suck him off, and to fuck his tight ass. After rubbing the precum around the sensitive head a bit, I sank to my knees in front of him. As I sucked his adolescent meat into my mouth, I got my middle finger good and wet as well, traced my way under his balls to his asshole, and inserted it rather quickly. Although somewhat tight, he was clearly not a virgin anymore, which given his age, beauty, and time as an acolyte would have been exceedingly unusual. I pushed in until I found the prostrate bump, and gave it a press. As if my oral ministrations on his supercharged dick were not sending him to a sexual high, my inner massage just about sent him through the ceiling. With astonishing, sudden strength, he clasped my head in his hands and thrust hard into my face, his whole body momentarily as hard as his dick, his rectum clamped viselike on my finger. He began wildly fucking my face as if his body were no longer under his conscious control. He held my head so firmly that I abandoned all attempts at directing or prolonging the blowjob and gave in to his instinctive sexual frenzy. All I could do was cling to his ass and leg and hold on until his overloaded cock virtually exploded his teenage cum into my mouth. Even I, who have sucked more than a few cocks, from pre-teen to adult, was surprised at the quantity and force of his ejaculation. His cum was much thicker than the normal young teen, and he pumped more in than I could either accommodate or swallow. When he began to relax, I let him out of my mouth, slipped my finger out of his ass, and stood up to kiss him. We shared the taste of his orgasm for a minute or two, and then it was time for part two. I shed my pants and shrugged off my shirt.
Among the things we always have on hand in our little hideout was a
good assortment of condoms. Anal sex in the church was no more safe
than anywhere else, unfortunately, and we made sure we were protected
physically. I took one and began rolling it on my own solid erection.
Returning to some kind of equilibrium after the intensity of his
orgasm, he realized what I was doing and added his fingers to mine,
rolling the latex downward and smoothing it nicely over my own bumps
and ridges. To my surprise, he again took charge of the situation, and
with me held firmly in one hand, pulled me toward the old sofa we’d
salvaged from the thrift shop. He lay backward spreading his legs, and
pulling me on top of him. As we settled into place, he raised his knees
until his legs met my shoulders, and his ass was in line with my dick.
I could feel some cum still dribbling from my chin, and I transferred
some of the goo from me to him, slicking his hole to increase the lube
from the condom. He moaned a bit, not in pain apparently, but in
repeated pleasure, since his virile young cock was once again hard. I
replaced finger with cockhead and entered him in one smooth push that
brought forth a major grunt of inarticulate pleasure--and I’m not sure
which one of us it came from. He was tight but experienced, and I
fucked him with long, firm strokes, one hand on his body, the other on
his hard dick. Barely a month past teenage years myself, I was nearly
as quick as he was, and after only about a dozen thrusts I shot my load
deep within him, and as I finished I felt him pulse in my hand with a
second orgasm every bit as strong and intense as his first one had been
in my mouth. He spread his legs further and allowed me to sink to his
chest, my softening dick still deep within him. We lay in a cummy
embrace for some minutes, joined and satisfied and silent. Voices from
the next room announced the arrival of the boys for the next service,
and we realized we should get up. Before we could act on that idea,
though, two younger boys no older than ten came through the door,
clearly in need of attention.
Both Teddy and Mikey were sniffling, trying to stifle sobs, and their clothes had the look of recent rough handling. Shirttails were partly out, buttons missed, and various wet spots promised future stains to puzzle their mothers. I got up from Angelo and we both sat up, opening our arms to the two little boys in an unspoken invitation of comfort. They needed no urging, and immediately climbed into our laps and our protective embraces. We hugged and held them for a bit, and then I suggested they tell us what had happened.
Teddy began, “We’d just finished Mass with Fr. McNally in the side chapel. But before we could come down here, he told us to come with him. He took us to this little room next to his office, and then... and and then...” His narrative dissolved into new sobs and he buried his face against my shoulder.
Mikey picked up the story. “And then he told us to take our
cassocks off and our pants too. We didn’t know what to do, so we just
stood there. Then he got mad and smacked Teddy upside his head, hard,
and I got scared, so I took off my cassock and tried to help Teddy
because he was crying too hard to do it himself. Then Fr. hits me too
and he grabs me by my pants and pulls them right down to my feet and
then my undies too and he pulls my shirt off over my head and he says
to me, he says “Get your friend’s clothes off quick, before I count to
five.” And then he starts counting pretty quick, so I pull Teddy’s
pants down and get his shirt off too, just as Fr. reaches five. But he
says I’m too slow, so he grabs me again and bends me over and spanks me
really hard. And then he spanks Teddy the same way because he says it’s
his fault I was too slow. And th... and.. and then...” And a fresh
spasm of sobbing stopped his story.
Teddy was calmed down enough to continue the story. “So he says to us, he says ‘Get down on your hands and knees, right next to each other.” So we do. I think he’s going to spank us again, but this time he kind of rubs our butts for awhile, and it feels kinda good. But then he puts something on my asshole that’s kinda cold, and he rubs that around, and then all of a sudden he pushes something really big into it and it hurts and I’m crying and all. Then he pulls it out and I think he’s done, but he pushes it back in again, and then again and again. And finally he takes it out of me and pushes it into Mikey. I turn around to see what he’s doing and the thing he’s pushing into our asses is his dick! It’s like all stiff and hard and it’s really huge, and he pushes it into Mikey again and again, and Mikey’s crying too, and then he pulls it out and he tells us to turn around. So we do, and then he says to us, he says, ‘Suck it, you little faggots.” I’m like, “You mean suck it with our mouths?” And he doesn’t say anything, but he smacks me again, and then he grabs my hair and pulls really hard, and then he sticks his dick right into my mouth!”
“Yeah,” Mikey added. “And then he smacks me again, and he says to me, he says, ‘You lick my balls, fuckface.’ I never heard a priest say fuck before, but I didn’t want him to hit me again, so I licked his balls. And he’s like moving his hips all around and kind of moaning, and pushing in and out of Teddy’s mouth, and then all of a sudden his dick starts squirting this funny white stuff, and some of it goes in Teddy’s mouth and some squirts onto my face and it’s all over the place.”
“Yeah,” Teddy said. “It’s all over the place. And then he tells us to lick his dick clean, and we’re too scared not to, so we do, and then he tells us to get our stuff on and move our faggoty asses out of his sight. So we pull up our pants and get our shirts on as fast as we can, and we come down here.”
Angelo was stroking Mikey’s soft blonde hair, comforting and calming him, and I noticed that he was getting hard again. “Was that the first time anything like that happened to you?” he asked. Mikey shook his head.
“One time last month Fr. Fortunato made me sit on his lap while he explained what I was supposed to do during Mass, and while I was on his lap he put his hand inside my pants and played with my dick.”
“Did your dick get hard when he did that?” Angelo asked. Mikey nodded, and my angel’s dick grew even more erect.
“Fr. Cummings did that to me, too,” Teddy added. And without prompting by me he added that his dick also had gotten hard. Mine was already approaching that condition again as well.
“Do you know know what blowjobs are?” I asked them. Mikey thought he knew; Teddy had no idea. It seemed to be time to extend their education. “Blowjobs are one of the nicest things guys can do for each other,” I told them. “And we’re going to show you how nice they are.” As I said that, Angelo and I exchanged looks, and both began gently undressing our respective boys. Unlike our abusive Fr. McNally, our touch was gentle and reassuring, our words comforting and tender. For the second time in an hour, the two boys had their shirts removed, revealing the perfect skin of pre-adolescence. I ran my hand down Teddy’s smooth chest, across the small nipples, which despite their immaturity became immediately firm. I found his waistband and opened it, and unzipped his fly. I slipped my hand down onto his white cotton briefs and to my surprise discovered a thoroughly rigid stiffy beneath. With both hands, I pushed both inner and outer pants downward, and Teddy pushed himself up a bit to help with the task. Together we got the garments down to his ankles. A glance toward my angel revealed similar progress, not to mention a similar stiffy. It was time for the lesson to move ahead.
“Blowjobs are really nice,” I repeated, “And we’re going to show
you why they’re nice.” Shifting the positions of our lap sitters a bit,
we bent down and took their slender rods in our mouths, licking their
prepubescent cocks with our hot tongues. Both boys clearly liked our
ministrations, writhing and moaning in more pleasure than they could
contain. As we sucked, our hands added stimulations as well, roaming
over the small bodies. And suddenly, Teddy’s body shook with a
tremendous spasm, and his little dick pulsed quickly several times, and
with a great sigh he relaxed. I let his still stiff dick slip from my
lips, and innocently asked him, “Did you like that?”
“Wow, that was... wow,” was all he could manage to say. I sat up and pulled him back into a hug. He snuggled against me, and we turned our attention to Mikey who even as we looked, seemed to be having a similar experience of his own. As if controlled by a marionette’s strings his limbs jerked in uncontrolled movements, his hips thrust against Angelo’s mouth, and we could see the pulses from the back of his cock as he had his own orgasm.
“Now when you get to be priests,” Angelo told them, “that’s how you should treat your altar boys.”
“Amen!” said Mikey and Teddy in perfect altar boy unison.