Date: Thu, 25 Jul 2013 16:29:21 -0400 From: Randy Boyd Subject: Father Jack - Part V FATHER JACK – Part V GIANNI AND THE PRIEST (and Jacob & Thomas) This is a work of fiction. It is only a fantasy.... but as a fantasy it's kind of hot. Our initial interview over, Bishop Ryan took his leave of me and of St. Mark's School before lunch. Needless to say, I had made a very favorable impression on his Grace, and we'd developed a rapport that would make future interactions enjoyable. We agreed that I should keep him apprised of Paolo's progress, and of how things went with Gianni. Ah, Gianni. It was now nearing three o'clock, which meant he'd be knocking on my door soon for our appointment. After hearing what Jacob had to say about him, along with Paolo's certainty that Gianni had been jacking off, I finally had a plan for meting out his penance. With a few minutes to spare and in the rare quiet of my office, I began to consider this weekend's sermon. I started to work through some thoughts I'd had, noting ideas down. But no sooner had I started when I heard a loud thumping – kind of a "cracking" sound, outside my window. I quickly realized what it was: Thomas, our groundskeeper, had told me earlier this week that one of the elm trees in the central courtyard was diseased and would need to be removed. He was chopping it down. Naturally I would want him to do this another time...not only was I trying to concentrate, but in a few minutes Gianni would be here and I didn't want anyone lurking about outside my windows. As I got up to go to the window, the sound just as suddenly stopped. As I peered through the lightly-tinted pane of glass, I saw Thomas lean his ax against the tree, and look up to a second story window across the courtyard. I followed his gaze and saw Jacob looking down at him. I positioned myself behind the curtain so neither of them could see me, just as I noticed Jacob smiling at Thomas. At that moment, Thomas removed his shirt, revealing a strong back and well-developed chest with a thick mat of dark hair. I guessed Thomas was probably 30, much more a man than Jacob's boyish 22. What was going on here?! The room Jacob was in was used to store bed linens; while the boys were in class there was no danger he'd be interrupted up there. Had Jacob been waiting for him? No sooner had I had this thought than Jacob slowly peeled off his shirt, extending his nicely-muscled arms above his head to reveal the light red-blond hair in his pits. His torso, thus stretched out, was lean and smooth; his nipples large and light pink. As he let his shirt fall to the floor, he adopted a more serious look, and hooked his thumbs into his trouser waistband. Thomas leaned back against the tree, content to let the tableau play out before him. He was much more exposed to anyone who might happen to look into the courtyard, but my vantage point was one of only two that could contain both him and the young seminarian showing off upstairs. Thomas absentmindedly rubbed his chest with one hand, while adjusting his growing bulge with the other; Jacob took this as his cue to lower his pants as he stepped closer to the window. I gasped at what I saw. Jacob, his naked body visible from the knees up, pressed his plump pink pole against the glass, smashing his balls up against the cool surface. As he slid his hard tool back and forth on the window, he gently tweaked both his nipples as he smirked down at Thomas. Something told me they had done this before... what else had they done? Even after this morning's exertions with Paolo, my own cock was tingling back to life. I unbuttoned my fly to let it bound into my hand, with which I stroked it slowly, hypnotized by the scene unfolding soundlessly before me. Satisfied now that Thomas had seen his hefty flesh rod against the window long enough, Jacob grabbed the think eight inches of it in his two hands, fucking his fists with slow thrusts of his hips as his mouth tightened into a snarl of lust. He was looking intently at Thomas, who stood impassively below. The only signs of Thomas' interest were his steady gaze, and the lewd protrusion at the front of his pants which he made no move to touch. Then, unexpectedly and almost imperceptibly, he nodded up at Jacob. Within seconds, Jacob's head fell back, and thick ropes of white jism were cast out of the end of his pulsing pole to coat the glass. Spurt after spurt covered the window in a blur of sticky goo, which the lad rubbed some more with his tool. Moments later he had stepped back into shadow (I assume he went to get something with which to clean the window), and Thomas had returned to his work. I replaced my dick in my pants and waited about a minute before opening the leaded window and leaning out to say over the sound of the chopping ax: "Excuse me, Thomas?" He looked up, startled. "Yes, uh, Father?" "Thomas, would you mind terribly postponing this work until Monday? I'm trying to work and the sound is very distracting." "Certainly, Father," he replied, putting his shirt on. "Oh, and Thomas," I added, making it sound like an afterthought, "have you seen Jacob this afternoon?" He turned red, but held my gaze. "Jacob? No, Father, I haven't seen him since this morning. Would you like me to tell him you were asking after him?" "That won't be necessary, Thomas, thank you. I'm just still trying to get a sense of what everyone gets up to during their free periods, and thought you might know, since you seem on friendly terms." I paused; he said nothing. "See you at dinner, Thomas." And with that I closed the window. "Come in," I called. It was Gianni. "You wanted to see me, Father?" "Yes, come here my boy," I said. He moved to the center of the room and stood before my desk. I appraised him coolly from my seat. At only fourteen, Gianni was second-generation Italian and in his first year at St. Mark's. He was of average height for his age, probably about 5'6", slender and with a thick mop of shiny jet black hair that ringed a face notable for the big, dark brown eyes and full lips. He was in every way a luscious treat. No wonder he liked to touch himself! I felt like I could eat him in two bites. "You're new to St. Mark's, are you not?" I asked. "Yes, Father." "Are you getting on well with the other boys?" "I guess so, Father." "Then why do I hear that you are spending so much time...alone? These are your brothers here, Gianni – you will do better and be happier if you try to make some friends." "Yes, Father." "Very well. Now: do you feel like you're learning how we do things around here? Do you understand our rules?" "I think so, Father." "And you are a good Catholic boy, are you not?" "I try to be, Father." "Then why have you been repeating the sin of Onan in your bed at night?" This caught him by surprise. "The – the what? Sin?" he stammered. "You do know the sin of Onan, don't you my son?" "Yes, Father." He looked down, red faced, at the floor. "That's right, my boy, there's no denying it." "But how - ?" he began... "—Nevermind how, Gianni. God sees everything, and as God's servant here at St. Mark's I am here to make sure God is pleased with the behavior of our boys. Now, do you know why Onan's acts were sinful to God?" "Because he spilled his seed on the ground?" Gianni offered hopefully. "Well, no... but that's a common misperception. What angered God, Gianni, is that Onan spilled his seed ALONE. He didn't want anyone – not even God – to see his secret pleasure. But God sees all, and this hiding makes him angry. Do you understand?" "Not really, Father... but..." "Take off your clothes, Gianni, and we'll sort this out," I said calmly. "Uh, what?" he looked lost. "Gianni you have sinned most gravely, and it's our job today to determine the proper penance for you. The only way to do that is to understand more fully the nature and scope of your sin." He was thoroughly confused, so I pressed on: "Unless you want to talk this over with your parents – perhaps you'd prefer for them to find an appropriate punishment for you?" He looked horrified. "Oh, no, Father, I'd rather we try to do this just you and me." I knew that would do the trick. "Very good, my son. Now, start by removing your clothes." I sat back in my chair as the youth began to disrobe. He shucked his shoes and removed his suspenders, letting his trousers drop to the floor. He slipped his cotton shirt over his head and let that drop, too. I decided to let the lad keep his underwear on for the moment – a nervous boy can rarely get it up. He was a very pretty youth, indeed, his smooth olive skin reminding me of Paolo's, only younger. His arms and pits were hairless, his muscles not as well developed. "Sit down, my boy." He sat. "Now, I want you to close your eyes and pretend that you are alone, that no one can see you, and that you are going to pleasure yourself. You can touch yourself if you want." After a moment's pause, the youth did as I had told him. To my surprise, his hands did not go to his crotch, but to his little nipples. After pinching them for a second or two he licked the tips of his two fingers and began rubbing them furiously, spreading his legs apart and sliding down in the chair. Slowly, I could see the cotton of his underwear begin to tent as his boycock started to stiffen. "OK, Gianni," I said as I rose and crossed the floor to him, "I want you to take off your underwear and do what you normally do. I need to witness your sin before we can find a way to absolve you." I stood over him authoritatively. The boy pushed his skivvies down and kicked them away, revealing to my hungry eyes his six inch stiffy and hairless robin's egg balls. It was a beautiful sight, and as his eyes met mine he grabbed his shaft with his right hand and squeezed, waving his pole around lewdly as his left hand pinched his reddened nipple. SLAP! I slapped his hand away from his cock, letting it bounce rigidly back into place. "Enough, Gianni," I said sternly. "I now understand the nature of your sin." He looked confused, certainly, but made no move to cover himself. I continued: "How do you suppose Satan himself would grab your privates if he wanted to tar you with the stink of sin? Huh? Answer me!" Unable to think of a response, the boy just gulped for air. "Don't you imagine," I said, reaching down to grasp his cock roughly in my hand and squeezing," that he'd grab you like this with his hot, wicked hand?!" "Y-yes, I suppose so, Father..." As my eyes hungrily lapped up the sight of the horned-up boy, I went on: "This is what has made God angry with you, Gianni. You have pleasured yourself in secret, trying to escape his gaze, and what's more you have done it with lascivious intent as if Lucifer's own hand were stroking you. But we will begin to fix all that here, and I will put you on the road to salvation and absolution. Are you ready, my son?" "Yes, Father." "Tell God that you beg for salvation and absolution..." "God, I beg you for salvation and absolution..." "Promise him that your pleasure is for his glory alone." "My pleasure is for your glory alone." "Very good." The kid was learning! "Now, Gianni, you don't have to try to mimic the fiery tongue of Satan on your cock to feel pleasure, or to please God." "No, Father." "No. God gave you fingers to act as his angels, who can dance on the head of your penis, and you will feel more pleasure doing this God's way than you would as Satan's servant. Do you need me to show you what I mean?" "Yes, please Father." "Very well, my boy. Open your legs and put your hands behind your head." He did as instructed, and I was momentarily frozen by the image before me: this beautiful teen, fully exposed, rock hard, seething with desire and totally under my power. I knelt down between his knees and pulled down on his silky smooth nutsack, which caused his stiff prick to rise straight upward off his flat belly. A couple dozen wiry hairs surrounded his shaft (he was probably very proud of these). "From now on, I want you to use your right hand only to pull your balls down away from your cock, my son. You can massage them a bit, if you want—"I showed him what I meant, which caused a whimper of pleasure, "—but your right hand never touches the shaft. Do you understand?" "Yes, Father...oh..." "With your left hand, I want you to think of your fingers and thumb as God's five angels, sent here to give you pleasure for His glory... like this..." I coated my fingers in spit and let the very tips of them play over the lad's sensitive cock-head as he squirmed with delight. "Do you see?" "Ooohhhh... Yes, Father...mmmmhhhh..." "Never touch more than the head, or you will risk God's disapproval and wrath." "Mmmhh...Ok, Father, Mmmnnghhh..." "Now you try it, my son." I sat back and watched as the lad did as he was told, all the while moaning with hot teenage grunts. He was right-handed, so it would probably take him a while to get off in this fashion, which was fine with me; I had nowhere to go. "Very good, my boy... yes, that's it... does it feel good? Do you like doing it this way while I watch you, and knowing God approves?" "Yeah, Father... it's better with you watching...Mmmm... Yes, it feels really good." "God is well pleased, my son. Yes, your pleasure gives Him pleasure when it is done for His glory." I could see the kid's hips start to buck a little, his buttocks tensing so he could thrust his rod into his fingers. Now it was time for part two... "Now that we have figured out the proper, more holy way for you to pleasure yourself, there is still the more problematic matter of your doing this in private aht we need to address." "Mmmm... Yes, Father? Ahhh..." "Yes, Gianni. In order to be absolved, you need to take pleasure only here, with me, for now." "Ohhhhh? Uhhhh... glmmmhhh...?" "Your sin is sufficiently grave that God wants me to take a more active role, and He's shown me—his works are indeed mysterious and wonderful—how he wants to insert himself into your glorious pleasure. Are you ready to accept God's will in this?" "Yes, Father," the lad gasped. With that, I pushed the boy's smooth legs up and out over the arms of the chair, revealing his pink, hairless boy hole, tiny and sweet beneath his now sweaty young balls. He looked a little surprised, but he didn't stop working on his knob, instead whining plaintively, "my pleasure is for your glory, God!" I bent forward and prodded his fuck hole with the tip of my tongue. "Oh! Aaahhhh..." He exclaimed as I began to lick around the ring of his opening, lapping back into his sensitive crack and up again to the underside of his balls, where my tongue took a moment to wet his fingers thoroughly before flicking back toward his pulsing hole. I grunted as I pushed my stiffened tongue in: "Nnnggghhh!" "Nnnngghhaaaahhh!" he cried. "Oh, Father, that feels good. God's forgiveness feels soooooo goooood!" "Mmmm..." I moaned between thrusts of my tongue. His twat tasted so good as it fastened tightly around my mouth muscle. And the fact that I was driving the kid mad with lust, bringing him ever closer to the edge of shooting his teen load, made the tastes and smells of boy crack even sweeter. I pulled my cock out and began stroking it in rhythm with each lick and thrust of my tongue. I licked. "Mmmm...boy, you taste good..." Lick. "Oh, yeah, share your pleasure with God..." Lick, Lick, thrust. "Mnggh! Mnggh! Yeah, this is how God wants you to feel..." Lick, Lap-lap-lap. "That's why he sent you to me...Mmmnnggghhhh!" "Father?" "Yes, boy?" "Where does God want me to share my seed...? Oooh... I think I'm close...Mmmmnnhhh...!" I needed to act quickly. "Hold on, Gianni..." I raised my head and replaced my tongue with my right thumb, holding it firmly in place inside his tight bunghole while the rest of my hand cupped his left butt-cheek. With my left hand, I pushed his away from his nuts and grabbed his balls myself. "Play with your nipples, Gianni, you like that, right? Show God how you like it." He started tugging at them as I lowered my mouth, fresh with the funk from his teen ass, onto his stiff prick. His legs spasmed in surprise, and for a moment one of his feet came into contact with my own bouncing man meat. With my elbow I nudged his tender foot back toward my dick, and to my delight he started rubbing my tool with his soft sole. "Mmmmnnnhhhhhgggnnnhhhh!" I moaned. My tongue lashed furiously at his swollen head, slurping up the pearls of precum as they dripped out, as in my mind I wondered whether any more would spurt out when he came? I needen't have worried; when Gianni asked about "sharing his seed" he wasn't kidding. As I sucked on his boy-rod with abandon, pushing the full six inches and lapping around the base of his throbbing shaft, I felt his little balls shrink even further in my left hand. "Mmnnnngghhhh!! Mmnnnngghhhh!! Mmnnnngghhhh!! Oh, Father! I'm sharing my seed with you and God! Ooohhhhh! Mmnnnngghhhh!! Mmnnnngghhhh!!" I pulled my mouth away so I could watch him cum "hands free", a look of utter surprise and awe on his face. Squirt after squirt of white boy juice began to bubble out from the end of his teen meat, coating his cock and tummy as his sphincter spasmed and clenched around my thrusting thumb. "Mmnnnngghhhh!! Mmnnnngghhhh!! Mmnnnngghhhh!!" he grunted again and again as globs of the stuff covered his belly. I couldn't believe this kid! I couldn't hold back any longer, and pumped my swollen organ against the lad's foot until I shot my own hot load all over his ankle. "Ooohhhh... Mmmmmnnhhhhghh! Aaarrnnngghhh!" This boy was hot. After he was spent, I leaned down to greedily lap up the purest, sweetest boy cream I ever tasted, letting the silky jism coat my tongue and rubbing my face in the sticky residue left on his abs and chest. "Ooohhhhh... Father." He sighed. "Mmmmm..." I echoed. "Gianni, you have successfully completed the first part of your penance." "The first part?" He looked crestfallen. "Yes... you didn't think it would be that easy, did you? There are two more parts, and I will tell you when the time is right. In the meantime, you must promise to me and before God that you will only seek pleasure here, with me, and no longer in secret, alone. Is that understood?" "Yes, Father, I promise." "Good. Now I want you to think about all you've learned and experienced here today, and come back anytime you need anything to be...clarified." "Yes, Father." And with that, he dressed and left. That night after dinner, I approached Jacob. "Jacob, I wonder if you can spare a few minutes for me tomorrow morning. Something has come up that I'd like to know what you think about it." "Yes, certainly, Father. Is anything the matter?" "I'm not sure yet, honestly... that's why I want to talk with you privately, without distractions." "OK... I'm monitoring the gymnasium until ten o'clock; how about I come see you after I finish there?" "Excellent, Jacob. See you then. Oh, and Jacob: have you by any chance seen Thomas today? I need to ask him something, too." "Thomas?" he couldn't help it; he turned red. I'm sure he was thinking about the hot show he put on for the groundskeeper this afternoon. "Uh, no... but I'm sure he's around." "Well, nevermind. I'm sure I'll see him. See you tomorrow morning in any case. Good night, Jacob." "Good night, Father." More stories from St. Mark's are planned – if you have ideas about afternoons with Paolo, Gianni, Tony, Marco, Ben, Dylan, Brody or Jacob (or other boys!), please let me know: randyboyd1@outlook.com. And thanks for the ideas I've already received – I'll try to work them in.