Date: Fri, 24 Nov 2017 13:28:10 -0500 From: Robbie Robot Subject: SEAMUS SERVES PART THREE Seamus Serves Seamus Serves Part Three © Van T Z Boi 2017. (The usual disclaimers apply, this remains the property of the author and you do not have permission to download and post this anywhere else without the author's permission. Please remember this is just a story and keep yourself safe. If you enjoyed this then please support nifty and make a donation; without nifty you would not be able to read this and they need your financial support so you can continue to enjoy nifty stories) (HEALTH WARNING: Due to the number of comments from nifty readers you are warned that reading this material may involve the self-indulgent loss of bodily fluid. Please ensure you have a supply of water, vitamins and minerals including vitamin C, calcium, chlorine, citric acid, fructose, lactic acid, magnesium, nitrogen, phosphorus, potassium, sodium, vitamin B12, and zinc to replace that which may be lost whilst reading this further chapter) (Thanks to all who have written it is nice to be appreciated, I do enjoy reading your comments and observations and suggestions and I always look forward to reading your views on this or any of my stories. Please note the new email address lostinspace1966@protonmail.com. Now please read on. Till the next Time Van T Z Boi) From Part Two "Father your hard again," Seamus said excited and Father Jerome felt the touch of the small hand around his member. "We can do it again Father," Seamus was already throwing off his clothes. Aghast Father Jerome knelt in the porchway as he watched Seamus move the St Peter's pence bowl to one side on the porch window shelf and then place his ragged shirt and shorts on the cold tiles. His eyes bulged wide open as Seamus now sat on the shelf and leaned back and raised his open legs. The sight of the pulsing boy pussy was too much for him, all reason left him as he dragged his trousers and briefs down and with his cock stiff and hard and eager leading the way he approached the naked boy, his eyes never leaving the pulsing rosette that awaited him. Part Three Father Jerome back on his feet hobbled forwards, his re-energised cock looking like it was sniffing the air like a well-trained bloodhound. Shuffling he positioned himself between the outstretched legs, his cock apparently with a mind of its own bending towards the pink wrinkled lips of Seamus's roseate, a quick breath and he sighed contentedly as his manly length slid inside the moist tightness, he felt the boys muscles working along his shaft, pulling him inwards. His hands sought the hard cold stone of the window supports either side of Seamus's head as he gloried in the sweet sensation of total immersion in the hot pot of Seamus's willing boycunt. He stood there, his trousers and pants around his ankles, his bare behind exposed to the damp cold air that puffed intermittently through the porchway, his old and aged balls invigorated banged against the smoothed edges of the rain cold stone tiles of the porchway shelf, contrasting with the heated warmth of Seamus's thighs that held him steady. "Go on Father," Seamus's piqued tone informed him of the boys wantonness, he looked at the naked figure, the pale ivory whiteness of his hairless skin, the hot pink of his peaked boy teats surrounded by the warm pink surrounding fleshy circles. He gazed admiringly at the pale creamy ivory of Seamus's cocklet, the exposed and throbbing glans a crimson beacon and the yearning look in the boys eyes. For a moment his conscience spoke words of warning, informing him of the most grievous sin he was about to commit, no not commit, repeat; he shuddered for a salutary moment and then Seamus's boypussy sucked at him, suckled his swelling glans, the copious precum drooling into the dark moistness of Seamus's heavenly interior. Father Jerome grunted, his right hand moved, as though wafting away his angelic guardian and he thrust, thrust fiercely and strongly, fucking his altar boy with a wantonness of his own; a wantonness born of the frustration of the sexless years he had endured since the seminary. His hips bucked back and forth and his knees trembled and shook, he was of an age after all and committed as he was to what he was doing; part of his brain attempted to try and recall when it was he last fucked standing up whilst the rest sought to help maintain his balance and ability to thrust. As is memories were scanned, Seamus's pussy became the controlling force, it sucked and pulled at him as he pulled backwards, the tight musculature of Seamus's love canal was something his cock wanted to enjoy and repeat, his recall was lost to the sensation of the directing demand of Seamus' need. Back and forth his body moved, his swelling cock driving in deep each time to its fullest length and his balls twinged with acute pain as they continued to bang against the hard stone tiles that covered the shelf. Seamus noticed the grimace, concerned he checked beneath his backside, feeling with his hand the rough edges of the tiles. Realising what was happening he carefully manipulated his ragged shirt so that the flimsy cloth provided a barrier to the cold stone, his own body was protected by his shorts and rest of his shirt, `it's only fair the Father has protection too,' he thought. His own passion rose and sensing he was close he adjusted his position again so that the priest's dick pummelled his boybud. In seconds he was mewling and grabbing at Father Jerome's hips as he writhed and wriggled though a beautiful dry cum, his nipples peaking and hurting with the sensory delights, the wonderful tingling itch a momentous tornado between his legs as his boypussy vibrated with orgasmic delight. Father Jerome grunted and gasped as the pulsing tightness grasped his cock head and squeezed it as Seamus's climax raddled his mushroom shape squeezing it into different shapes as Seamus's climax slowly ebbed. He looked through the clear window above Seamus's head, past the church gates and onto the distant rolling fields and hedges that sparkled where the rainfall still glimmered wetly on the blades of grass and edges of dripping leaves. It was a beautiful morning made all the more special by his special start to the day. He had prayed as usual for his family and those in the parish but it was a long time since he had asked the heavens for relief from the cross of celibacy and today he had been provided with heavenly relief and it appeared his fornication was not yet over. Slowly he moved his cock back and forth whilst Seamus's climax ebbed and the vicegrip relaxed, the pain was exquisite torture and his spine tingled and trembled as the sensations vibrated up from his shaft. "That was good Father," Seamus's satisfied voice brought his eyes back down to the slim figure who sat on the shelf. Seamus banged his knees against Father Jerome's sides, "you can start fucking again Father," he smiled and tugged at his pricklet, moving the ivory skin of his foreskin back and forth with lazy movements. Father Jerome was suddenly mortified and he stood immobile. "Come on Father," Seamus was insistent as he placed his right foot behind the priests back and tapped him forwards, the sudden unexpected touch forcing Father Jerome to stagger and his cock then slid further inside the warm glove that held it. The resulting sensation roused Jerome's passion and ignoring his inner voices yet again he began plunging his cock faster and faster in and out of the hot tunnel of boyheaven. In the stone porchway Father Jerome stood, his knees quaking as his hips thrust back and forth, his senior prick once more pummelling inside Seamus's boy heaven. Behind him the long window, positioned to allow the sun to warm the entrance to the church, the subtle breezes floating the warm air inside the always cold church helping to reduce the worst chill of the air. Anyone passing would have seen Father Jerome's lily white shanks quivering and trembling as he fucked away to his heart's content but oblivious to anything now but his own pleasure the aged but sexually happy reverend was lost in the hot moistness of the boys internal and infernal embrace. "Faster Father," Seamus, grabbed at Jerome's hips to position him so that his mushroom point inside him scraped at the right place. Used to his selfish brothers he wriggled and writhed in order that he too gained pleasure from the stand up fuck and as he manoeuvred his boypussy he was rewarded with a steady pummelling against his boynub and the tingling itching rose higher and higher as his passion was massaged steadily and properly. Father Jerome experienced the tightening around his mandick, the gentle squeezing became more pronounced and the pleasurable waves increased, he moaned and sighed sweetly as the fervour mounted. Seamus too mewled and whimpered as his own apex approached, one hand tugging at his slim boydick, the other clasping Father Jerome's hip, directing his priestly thrusting. Seamus stroked and caressed his cocklet, easing back the ivory white foreskin back and forth over his flaring glans, the bright crimson of passion deepening brighter and darker in hue as his climax approached. Seamus felt the tingle expand as his hand flew fluttering up and over and down his stiff three inches, his eyes glittered as the expected delight grew and grew fertilised also by the probing mandick inside him. A slight adjustment of his torso, a tug at Father Jerome's hip and the pleasure continued to rise, Seamus's lips parted as he grunted and gasped, the light across his eyes commencing the lurid display he knew so well and delighted in. Father Jerome too grunted as the extra pressure on his cock sent spasms of lusty joy pulsing up from his balls. Long underused now they flowered and blossomed, the first seeds mixing with the sweet precum that helped oil his progress. "Oh, now, now Father!" Seamus's excited cry galvanised the ancient cleric even more and bending slightly forward to gain weight he managed to pound even harder the tight enclosure, feeling the little bulge swell and press against him. "Ohhhhhh, ohhhhh, ohhhhh, Father!" shrieked Seamus as he was convulsed with orgasmic joy, his body jolting and rocking as his boyjoy exploded, Father Jerome gritted his teeth and yowled as his own orgasm spurted and his flattening cock delivered its fertilizing load, the two locked and rocker together as they exploded as one their mutual pleasure an earthshattering quake of sensual and unholy delight. "Ohh Seamus," Father Jerome spluttered as his knees knocked and he fell against the boy, held up only by the granite columns and the boypussy that continued to spasm erratically, clenching and unclenching around his tired and exhausted aged mandick, made to work harder than when he had been a young seminarian, taking the last pleasures before the constraints of priesthood condemning him to celibacy. Seamus purred as his boyjoy faded, he had been in control the whole time, unlike when he lay with his brothers and the morning had been fruitful and satisfying. Idly he wondered if the same thing could possible happen next Monday when he was due to serve as Father Jerome's altar boy. Somehow the early morning rising held a different attraction for him, `and I can pray for forgiveness first,' he decided as he knew that perhaps he was being just a little selfish although the way Father Jerome looked at him made him wonder about that. Seamus took control again. "Come along Father, I need to get home now, it's a long ride," he gently pushed the priest away, ignoring the disappointment as his pussy was left empty. `It's a whole week, seven days till Monday,' he thought a little ruefully. The loss of the warm enclosure around his shrinking cock and the blast of cold air that iced his old prick brought Father Jerome swiftly and icily back to a state of reason. Once again the cold light of day reasserted itself and contrite and concerned he bent to speak to the slight figure who jumped down from the shelf and began dressing. "Er Seamus, my boy I must apologise, I have mistreated and abused you most horribly," he started his apology. Seamus looked up, his shirt halfway over his head. His puzzled face looked at the concerned and horrified expression on Father Jerome's face. "But Father it was only a fuck," he said, "well two fucks." He paused to tug his shirt down, it hung over his faded shorts. He put his head on one side and spoke in a hopeful tone. "We can do it all again next week, can't we," his accompanying smile flummoxed Father Jerome. In seconds his old and slow brain manged to work out that Seamus had in fact been the instigator. He had merely provided the stiff organ for Seamus's pleasure and in doing so he had profited by his own pleasure. Standing there in the porchway, his trousers and pants jumbled about his ankles, his lower body naked and exposed to view, his dangling flaccid dick and lower hanging fully emptied balls he sought to work out who had seduced who when Seamus knelt down and kissed his floppy cock and his bobbling balls. "See you next week," Seamus cooed and seconds later the semi naked priest waved goodbye to his altar boy. As he waved his hand the phrase, `see you next week,' reverberated round and round his head and an unexpected twitch between his legs caused the old man to recall his undressed state. Still mumbling, `next week' under his breath he closed the door behind him and made his way through the church to the sacristy. As he knelt before the altar he found himself unable to look upwards at the cross that gazed resolutely at him. Averting his gaze he continued his journey back to the kitchen. The rattle of the back door shook him and he spun round in terror. "Morning Father," Mrs McGinty, smiled as she entered the kitchen. "I'll have breakfast prepared in two shakes of a lamb's tail," she swept past him, exchanging her coat fop the apron that hung ready. "You usual one egg Father?" she asked as she hefted down the iron skillet. Father Jerome found his composure, "Good morning yourself Mrs McGinty," his smile broadened and he added, "You know I think I'll have two eggs this morning. `Tis a fine morning now the rain has eased." Father Jerome a new spring in his step headed towards the bathroom, he needed he decided to wash the signs of his sins away and his prick twitched happily with the thought it was to be touched one more time. "Why so it is Father, two eggs then," Mrs McGinty slapped the slice of fat into the heating pan Seamus rode home as quickly as his little legs standing on the pedals of his mother's oversized bike would let him. The rain had stopped for the time being but the air that whisked past him was damp and under his ragged shirt his boy nipples peaked this time from the cold. In side he felt nice and warm, the early morning fucks with Father Jerome satisfying him much more than the selfish fucks he experienced with his brothers who were all at the teenage state of full of cum and ready to unload at the merest whim. He balanced himself on the pedals the cycle weaving from side to side to allow him the fastest pace. The cold wind whipped at his tousled hair but the chilly draughts had no effect on his inner heat, his tingling itch was momentarily dozing but every now and then as his bum hit the saddle it woke up, teased by the touch, thinking that more cock was on its way, then as he rode it settled back down until the next unexpected bump or wobble nudged it alert. He left the bike by the backdoor under the hanging tiles that just about halted the rusting nature of the worst of the rain and silently entered the cottage. The kitchen was warm, the heat from the range providing a steady comfortable atmosphere, he could even smell the peaty scent of the smouldering turf. There was no sign of his mother and he assumed that having woke up to wake him she had gone back to bed. Although the kettle on the range whispered at him that there was water hot enough; the fact he was home and the warmth of the kitchen suddenly made him sleepy. Yawning and stretching he padded barefoot to the bedroom he shared with his brothers. Entering quietly he stood by the large bedstead, in the dim light he could see the huddled shapes of his sleeping brothers and stripping of his shirt and shorts he lifted the edge of the crumpled blankets to slip under the sheet. The bed was warm with his brothers heat and he relaxed, his eyes sleepy as he came into contact with a warm body. The body twitched and then a warm hand closed over his chest and stroked the peaked teat it found there. "You're cold," his brother Dominic complained and Seamus felt a sudden shifting as his fourteen year old brother moved. "You need warming up," Dominic's sleepy soft tone continued and Seamus spread his legs, his hands seeking the swelling teendick that pulsed warm and with just the beginning of moistness as his brother's glands went into action to produce the necessary lubrication. "I know just how to warm you up," Dominic's tone more growly than sleepy whispered softly into Seamus's ear and then Dominic sighed as his fat five inches slid inside the hot tunnel. Seamus wriggled slightly so that his brother's dong could stroke the right place. Sleepily and tired still Dominic was in no mood to rush so it was a slow gentle fuck, one that was more suited too to Seamus's excited state. Both boys enjoyed the slow progress as Dominic's teenage prick slid back and forth, the bell end stroking and butting the tiny swelling bud inside Seamus's spermy pussy. Dominic used to his brother's often appearance of moistness, he was not the only cock that fucked his younger brother's boycunt made no connection with the wetness his dick found there, he just plodded on, sleepily slowly as he rode his brother. Seamus twisted his hips, found the right place and played his brother, urging hin on when necessary with the heel of his foot on his brother's backside. Soon the need to blast, to cum, to explode made Dominic instinctively thrust forcefully harder and as his teen joy blossomed so it was that Seamus too writhed in orgasmic heat and joy. Grumpily humping the last few dregs into Seamus's pulsing boypussy, Dominic felt asleep, his stiff if not fully blooded dick remaining inside the warm spermy sheath. He fell back into his disturbed sleep and Seamus, once his own boyish delights ebbed away also slid into a deep embrace of happy dreams of thrusting cocks and spilling sperms. Father Jerome was checking the Sacristy cupboards; they tended to get untidy over the weekend with the various events and celebrations that normally took place. It had become his late Monday morning task once the morning services were over and getting everything in its right and proper place for the afternoon and all the following days had become part of his weekly ritual. He looked up as Father Strand entered; a piece of yellowish paper waving in his hand. Father Jerome tensed as he observed that the piece of paper was in fact a telegram and he momentarily prayed that all his family were safe. `Telegrams were never good news,' to his personal knowledge and experience, letters were more often sent to announce good news with all the concomitant details; the stark basic simplicity of telegraph wording left for dire happenings. "I hope it's not bad news Father?" his tone carrying his own concerns clearly. "Yes and No, Father Jerome," Father Albert Strand held the telegram out. As Father Jerome read the printed words he added, "as you can see its from Mrs Macauley, Matron of St Teresa's Hospital," he hrummphed and added, "Ned Fox is asking for a priest and," he lowered his voice reverentially, "Matron Macauley is of the opinion that such a visit is warranted." Father Jerome nodded his head in agreement. Ned Fox had been admitted several months ago; in his eighty-seventh year he had succumbed to the parish wide bout of influenza and it had affected him badly. The doctor had insisted that in all good time, with plenty of bed rest and help that the elderly farmer would be back on his feet, however it had so far taken longer than expected and Jerome knew that often such a long stay would work against an elderly hospital resident. Ned had been visited weekly by one of the priests, taking it turn and turnabout but as Parish Priest, Father Strand would be the one expected to attend matters of urgency and the prospect of dealing with death was one they were all too familiar with. "I shall have to attend," Albert said, slightly irritated, Monday's were more of a day of rest for him. He looked at Jerome, "You will have to take the school Mass this afternoon," he sighed, the Mass concluded with tea and cakes in the Headmaster's office whilst they put their worlds to right and he was slightly annoyed that he would miss his weekly `treat.' His mind whirred, `Matron Macauley kept a good table,' he mused, `perhaps he would not miss out on his `treat' by too much. "School Mass?" Father Jerome was flustered, the School Masses had always been Father Strand's responsibility. "Yes, yes," Father waved his hand nonchalantly, "just reiterate Sunday's sermon, couched for the pupils. Luckily it was `The Good Samaritan.' Children appreciate that one," he patted Father Jerome on the shoulder, "and then there is always a good tea afterwards with the Head," he smiled indulgently. "Oh," Father Jerome felt the world slip away from him, his own memories in Headmaster's Offices' were not the best and his backside ached as he recalled the severe floggings he had undergone as a rebellious youth. `Perhaps I can avoid the tea,' he thought to himself as he made his preparations. He entered the schoolgates and proceeded to the Headmaster's Office, quaking a little from memories of past history. Mr Mahon the Headmaster welcomed him after the initial surprise at not seeing the familiar form of Father Strand. In the distance he could hear the sounds of the children who were probably playing in the playfield as it was just after lunchtime. He felt somewhat queasy still and had not given full justice to the meal prepared by Mrs McGinty. "I'll leave your plate in the bottom part of the range," she admonished him, "you may feel hungry after the walk too and back from school." He had nodded and swallowed several times trying to clear the lump that appeared lodged in his throat "I hope Ned recovers," Headmaster Mahon smiled, once Father Jerome explained his sole presence, "his grandchildren are at school now and perhaps we ought to dedicate the mass to him, his name is already listed in the prayers, but I would not want them to feel unhappy. I shall speak to them before the Mass," he made a note on his diary. He looked up at the slight figure of the priest. "Er do you need to be shown the way?" he asked politely. "No, no, of course not," Father Jerome flustered, `Idiot,' he said to himself, `I should be getting the altar ready, not standing here in the office.' "No, I'll go ahead and get ready," he inclined his head at Mr Mahon. Headmaster Mahon smiled and added as Father Jerome backed out of his room, "You will be joining me for tea, after the service?" "Oh, yes, of course, naturally," Jerome stammered and turning he banged his little case against the doorsill. Reddening he hurried towards the hall. He passed through the large room; the ladies of the parish were just finishing cleaning up the tables from the children's meal and nodded to those who spoke to him. "I hear Ned's not doing too well," Coleen Cooney, the parish gossip spoke as he passed. Flustered Jerome replied, "Ned is in our prayers. Father Strand is attending him at the Hospital," he mentally kicked himself as he realised he had just given her a choice piece of information which she would weave a gossiping narrative too. `Father Strand is not going to be too happy with me,' he rebuked himself. He stood in the small room which they used for dressing for services. The tall cupboard held vestments whilst he had brought with him the necessary relics to create an altar. He opened the cupboard door and took down the garment he would be wearing. He laid it on the shelf, his suitcase lay open and the relic and chalice stood ready. As he bent down to pull the vestment over his head there was a knock on the door. "Father its me Margaret Mclocklin. I've brought you a server to assist. May we enter?" he heard the voice of the young teacher. "Yes, yes," he replied and stared at the door. Margaret Mclocklin enterer, "Welcome Father Jerome," she gushed and curtsied. "I have brought a boy to serve for you, he says he already acts as your altar boy," she stepped to one side. "Hello Father," piped up Seamus. Father Jerome's mouth dropped open as he found himself once more in the company of his young seducer. "G,g,g,g,good, good afternoon," he stammered his voice rising to an unmanly squeak. "I leave you to it then," Miss Mclocklin bowed and curtsied again and left closing the door behind her. Father Jerome stared at the slight figure, visions of the naked boy writhing underneath him as he pounded the boys sweet pussy riddled his mind. He mentally waved the images away, `at least here we can't do anything,' he told himself. "Here let me help Father," Seamus stepped forward and Jerome held out the vestment. To his consternation Seamus ignored the outstretched arms holding the garment, instead he felt fingers scrabbling at his trousers, swiftly releasing the erect cock he had not realised was throbbing away hidden in the folds of his pants. Father Jerome moaned as the lips and moistness of Seamus's mouth captured him once more. The indistinct sounds of the children entering the hall behind the door filtered into the small room and Father Jerome swallowed several times in succession, the lump this time was between his legs and his balls and cock were swelling swiftly as Seamus' expert mouth went to work. End of Part Three To Be Continued ...?????????????????????????????? (Poor Father Jerome, sinning again but maybe it is Seamus that is the sinner? Perhaps the time for such sinning is at and end or is it? What do you think, should I end this sinful story now? Well if you do want more and really want me to continue this story then you have to write and tell me or this could really be the end. Don't forget if you like this then I have plenty more stories to whet your appetite, just look me up on nifty's prolific authors listing ( https://www.nifty.org/nifty/authorslist.html scroll down to V for Van T Z Boi ) . Please also remember to make a different deposit in nifty's coffers for without them you would not be able to enjoy this and further chapters. All the best, Van T Z Boi) (In response to all those who are interested; the Lost/Rejected stories are still undergoing editing and once they have been posted I will announce the link. The good news is that good ole' nifty have provided copies of `Detained at Daddies' and `Mummy Said' from their records so now I have recovered all the missing stories, so mucho thanks nifty. Sorry I can't be more forthcoming at this time as to when I will be able to post them but please watch this space. Van T Z Boi)