GOD'S WILL, part 4

I was thinking maybe he was an angel. Most people like to think angels are all kind and pretty and sweet, but they're not like that in the Bible. They're strong and serious and -- well -- just not human at all. They're too different to really care about us, much less love us. They just take orders from God.

It made sense. He stayed apart from me all the time he was inside me, pounding my butt. He was like in a different place. An angel, I figured, would be like that. And I'd had my revelation while he was, uh -- I still don't like to say it -- while he was fucking me.

I was supposed to have come out of the fancy room to wait for another gentleman, but I was thinking too hard, so I just lay there for a while, on my belly, because it hurt more to lay on my back. It is no easy thing to mess around with an angel of the Lord.

I don't know how long it was before Fat Alice came in to see what become of me, but when she did, she called on the Lord. "Jesus Christ," she said, "look what he done to that poor child!"

She called Miss Lena, who wasn't busy then, and they carried me up to my pallet on the floor between Clint's bed and Mustafa's bed. Miss Lena stayed with me. She washed my bottom with a cloth and warm water, and put on some salve that stung a little at first, but eased me a lot afterwards. She also gave me a tablet to help me sleep, then sat with me a while.

I told her how I figured the gentleman had to be an angel. She said no, he was a devil, like most men. I was trying to explain my revelation, but before I could finish I fell asleep.


When I woke up, I was in Clint's bed instead of on my pallet. Clint was in there too, with one arm slung over me. When I moved a little, he opened his eyes, reached his head forward, and kissed me on the nose. "Morning," he said. "How ya feeling?"

My hole was still sore, but I said, "Okay, I guess."

"Let's have a look." He pushed off the covers and had me roll over on my belly and spread my legs apart.

"Clint," I told him, "I don't know if I'm ready for another dick up my butt just yet."

"You're not," he replied. "I just want to see how bad he hurt you." He got between my legs and spread my cheeks apart.

"I don't see nothing torn," he reported, "but you're still a little swollen. Tell me how this feels."

Then he put his face down between my butt cheeks and started gently licking my hole. "Hey," I said, "you know I poop from there!"

I guess I was clean enough, thanks to Miss Lena, because he never stopped for a second -- and, you know, it did make my sore hole feel a lot better. It started feeling so much better that my wiener got stiff.

"Clint," I asked, "do you want me to turn over?"

"Roll on your side," he told me. Then he flipped around so he could take my wiener in his mouth and, at the same time, I could take his. He was delicious, and I suckled on him just like a baby on its mother, and all the time he was doing those wonderful things to me, just like the night before.

Once again, I felt the Hand of God shake me to the core, while God's Holy Spirit streamed into my mouth, and I gulped it down like the sweetest nectar in the land.

We just took it easy after that, me all wrapped up in Clint's strong arms. I had my face buried in his chest when I first asked how he got to be there, so he didn't understand me. I had to pick up my head and ask again, and then he told me.

"Papa liked to gamble, but he never was any good at it. He dragged Mama from place to place, running out on the money he owed at the place before. That's how I got born up in New York. Wasn't there long.

"Mama died when I was nine, trying to make me a brother. The baby died too, and same as always there was gambling debts along with the doctor bills. We didn't even stay to bury her. We was in southern Illinois then, and he'd used up pretty much all the Old Union, so we crossed the river to St. Louis.

"Didn't take long before he was in trouble again, but this time they grabbed him before he could get away -- and since it was Missouri, that meant he was about to become a slave, and me too, since there was nobody to care for me.

"He talked them out of it though, saying two slaves for one debt -- and a pretty small one at that -- just wasn't fair. So I got to be a slave, and he lit out for the Big Empty.

"I got traded around a little before I wound up here with Fat Alice, and that was the end of my traveling days."


Fat Alice gave me the night off, saying my little hole didn't look all that virgin-like, and we'd wait for the swelling to go down. She tried putting ice on it, but that just made it even redder. It also made me yell.

I took the opportunity to ask her about me preaching on Sunday, and she looked at me like I was crazy, but she said okay, just don't expect her to drag her fat ass out of bed that early. If the ladies wanted a sermon, I could give 'em one.

Miss Lena said she'd come, and Rose and Catherine did too. Sumie and Dawn didn't know, but Miss Lena told them it'd probably be real cute. I didn't mean to be cute, though, I meant to preach the roof off.

I knew Clint would come. Mustafa didn't much want to, saying as he didn't believe in what he called "none of that crap," and that religion never gave him nothing but trouble. That really dismayed me, and I bothered him over and over and promised to sit on his pointy Arab dick any time he asked.

That's when he told me he wasn't a Arab, he was a Turk, and he wasn't much of a Moslem. His family lit out of Turkey when the serious Moslems took over, and came to America so they wouldn't get arrested for not stopping to pray five times a day or eating before sundown in some special month. They wasn't in the CSA much more than six weeks when some politician got everybody riled up on account of some boat sank somewhere, and they arrested all the Arabs.

e double, regular rates would have to do -- but she said she'd keep me to blow jobs, which was what she called cock sucking, as much as she could on account of as soon as my hole looked normal she could start saying as I was a virgin and charging double again.

The angel, who nobody ever seen before, did not come back. Far as I know, nobody seen him since. Maybe Miss Lena was right, and he was a devil and not an angel, though it's hard to say. Devils are just fallen angels, you know. Me, I still think he was an angel. A devil, I believe, would have tried to break my faith.

What came around for the weekend was a whole lot of tourists, mostly family men. While the wife and kids was at Baldknobber's Jamboree, Daddy was at Fat Alice's place, mostly lusting after the ladies, but a good many lusting after Clint and me.

Not many of the weekend gentlemen wanted Mustafa, on account of him being a heathen and getting kind of old -- he was nineteen. Mustafa figured Fat Alice would sell him off to a different kind of establishment pretty soon except that he brought in some good money from those old ladies.

My first john that weekend -- "john" being what we usually called our gentlemen amongst ourselves -- was a preacher! I was excited to hear that, and started telling him how I was going to preach to the ladies and the boys on Sunday, but he told me to shut up and suck his whanger (yes, another word for your know what) or he'd whup my bottom. So I did.

It was a pretty ordinary whanger. I sucked, and he shot his stuff in my mouth. If anybody is using my story for their sexual pleasure, sorry, there is not much to tell. I sucked, he shot his stuff, I swallowed. After, though, he gave me some advice for my sermon on Sunday.

"Everybody is a sinner," he told me. "When you call them on it, they just can't deny how deep they are in the belly of sin. Tell them how hell waits for them with wide open doors, and they will put the money in the plate -- the money to save them from hell's torments."

All I really remembered from that night was how everybody was a sinner. Well, that was not a great revelation to me. What I got from it, though, was that everybody could be saved -- even ladies such as Sumie and Dawn. "I will," I said, "bring them to Jesus."


There was one man I recall from that Saturday was somewhat different from the rest of them. All the ladies was occupied when he came in, and there was nobody but me and Fat Alice herself to do him unless he wanted to wait. I am not saying there was not lots of gentlemen wanted to do Fat Alice, but he was not one of those.

He took a look at me, then he asked Fat Alice, "How can you have a little boy like that working here?" She told him for a blow job he wouldn't know the difference, and some gentlemen preferred a boy because he knew just how a blow job was supposed to feel.

He seemed skeptical, but then he took another look at me in my new lime green teddy and matching panties, and said he'd give it a try, but I could tell he was nervous. I did my best, though, to put him at ease.

"It's okay, sir," I said. "We're all sinners, and there's all different ways to come to Jesus. I'm a preacher," I said, "a boy preacher. You come along with me and I'll cast out your demons real good."

He looked at me, and he looked at Fat Alice, and he looked back at me again, and I guess the Lord gave him a nudge towards me, because he let me take him by the hand and lead him back to the little room on account of all the fancy rooms was occupied just then. The little room was comfy enough, though, even if there was no room for anything but the one big bed and a tiny bedside table. That room was so small they had to put the mirror on the ceiling.

"So you're a boy preacher," he said as I was undoing his pants and sliding them down.

"Yes, sir," I replied. "Sit down so I can get these pants the rest of the way off you and you can be more comfortable."

"You know," he said, "I don't think I want to do this. You're just a little boy. It's wrong."

So I told him how God's own angel had totally reamed my backside just two nights before, and as I was telling him I could see his wiener getting hard inside his big old underpants, and by the time I got around to telling him about my revelation he was completely hard and asking me if he could stick it up there too.

I don't know what made me say it, but I told him I was still pretty sore, so it would cost him an extra fifty and he had to give it to me -- not Fat Alice. He said he would, and went fishing on the floor for his pants so he could get his wallet out. I found some lube in the bedside table, pushed off my panties, and greased my hole. It still was a little puffed up, but I figured since he was just a beginner and didn't look all that big, at least through his underpants, I would be okay.

I put his fifty on the table, told him to lay back on the bed, and got his underpants off. Sure enough, he only had about six inches, and not too wide. For a second there I thought he was gonna squirt while I was putting the lube on him, but he held it back. I was glad, because I didn't want to give back his fifty. I was thinking it would not hurt to have some money of my own saved up. You never know what's gonna happen.

So I straddled him, pointed the end of his wiener at my hole, and sat down on it. He let out a little moan, but didn't move at all. He just lay there, looking up at that mirror on the ceiling. It was just fine having him up me, and actually felt pretty good. Since he was leaving it all to me, I started slowly riding up and down him, doing my best to make him last. He was a pretty good looking man, with just the right size to tickle that tickle spot, but no more than that.

I took his hand and put it on my pecker (yes, another word for it), which was as hard as it gets, while I continued to ride up and down on him. He was a kind, innocent man, and his woodie (uh huh) inside me was kind of a beautiful thing. It hit me that he might be another angel, only this time the nice kind.

As I rode him, I started to feel those hand of God feelings, and I knew I'd be groaning with holy fervor any minute. "Oooh," I told him, "that's good!"

When I said that, though, and I was right on the edge there, he just pushed me off him and said, "No, this isn't right." He was still stiff as a plank when he pulled up those big old underpants, got his pants on, and laced up his shoes. I was kind of upset.

"What happened?" I asked. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No," he answered me. "I did."

I have since come to learn that there are lots of people who think that it is sinful when a man does it with a boy, and I guess they are entitled to their opinion. There can't be many, though, who can just quit right in the middle, Maybe he really was another angel. I know I was sorely tested that night.


There was some more blow jobs that night, and none too bad since it was mostly tourists, and they are mostly cleaner than the local boys, so I didn't have to hold my nose. The problem with tourists is that they tend to be kind of cheap -- so I didn't get an more extra money that night.

You may think I was being mercenary, but I just had this idea I would need some extra money to do God's work, and I was right. Maybe it was my own Idea, and maybe it was God's inspiration, but it turned out to be a good idea.

Sookie came to me about three AM, when things got kind of quiet. "I hope," she said, "you are not full of shit. I think I really need some salvation, and you are my last chance. Say you won't fuck me over, Jimmy."

Truth is, angels and all, I didn't know how well I could save real human beings like Sookie. I mean, I wanted to, but God is seldom too clear when he talks to you. God is hard on us ordinary people. That, I figured, was what would be in my sermon.

God, though, would be on my side -- or so I imagined. These days, I understand that you never really know what God is up to. Nobody -- not even the best preachers in the Christian States of America -- has any idea what the mind of God is thinking.

What I did know, though, is that Sookie and Rose and Catherine was all thinking that God was still there for them, and I could guide them on the way.

That would have been nice.


Next: the sermon

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