(It really doesn't make any sense to warn you pervs that a story you're reading here might be illegal in some benighted realm like the fictional Republic of Texas, even though it's set in the future, so needless to say none of it actually happened. If you skipped Part One, you really ought to go back and read it, including the warning that religious people will be offended.
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The Next World
If you are wondering why I remained in Texas, of all places, after the implosion of world capitalism and the fracturing of all the megastates, it's because it was as good as anyplace for a guy like me. Nothing had changed all that much, on the ground. If you wanted to have what you wanted to have, you needed to be either rich or powerful or both -- and both was best, and I was working at it, and making progress.
Maybe I thought I'd made more progress than I really had when I hatched my plan for Alex -- that is, for keeping him -- but if you'd seen him, you would be completely understanding. Hell, I was a fucking Bishop! Okay, that's still middle management, but I'll just go on with the story and let you decide for yourselves.
He burbled out some more of his story. Jimmy Joe, it turned out, was his older cousin, not yet eighteen, but already with a bit of a meth habit. That probably explains why he blabbed all over that he'd gotten Alex to suck his dick. Not only was it bad for Alex, who got tossed out of his home, it was bad for Jimmy Joe, who got lynched. They might have lynched Alex too, had he stayed around that part of Houston.
"I thought he really liked me," Alex confided. "He was always so happy when I sucked on him. At first I didn't want to. I thought it would be yucky, but he said he'd give me his old skateboard, and I'd never had one, so I tried it. And I never even knew a dick could make that stuff until he shot it all over my face."
By this time, of course, I was so hard I must have been lifting him up an inch or so over the surface of my lap, and it was getting uncomfortable. With regrets, I had to pull my hand out of his shorts so I could readjust myself. Then I brushed away some of his tears, getting my middle finger nice and wet in the process. It was cute how he lifted up his little bottom so I could put my hand back up his pants and start using his tears to lubricate his hole.
"That really was a little yucky," he continued, "but Jimmy Joe said there wouldn't be no mess at all if I just swallowed it, and it would make me big and strong. And I wanted to be big and strong, so even after he gave me the skateboard, I kept going back and doing it some more."
He paused for some more sobbing, then went on. "But really, I kept going back because I liked it. So I really am a gay little sissy fag! And I just don't want to go to hell, Bishop Bob."
His little bunghole, massaged with his own tears, seemed to be producing some natural lubricant of its own, I noticed. I poked my middle finger in up to the first knuckle, which got him to gasp a little. Then I pushed his face back with mine and briefly locked our lips together. "Alex," I told him, "I would never let you end up in hell."
Wheels turning upon wheels. Alex, despite his penchant for cocksucking, remained an innocent -- it wouldn't be too hard to persuade him I was saving his soul while I was totally enjoying his body. Pious families never suspect how vulnerable they make their boys when they fill them with all that religious claptrap and shield them from the realities of life.
Our Archbishop, on the other hand, was always droning on about "appearances." I guess the little matter of his new wife being younger than his youngest daughter, and not much older than Alex, was okay. After all, she was female. And I guess the tragic death of his first wife in that freak boating accident was okay too.
Nevertheless, it required some thought. I took Alex home with me that night, which was not likely to encourage a lot of deep thinking, but maybe would inspire some brilliant revelation if he "relaxed" me sufficiently. Shit, I just had to have him -- and the rest could work itself out afterwards.
Some of you other Christians might wonder how the Texas United branch of the faith wound up with such like as Bishops and Archbishops when most started out as just plain Baptists. Well, we figured if you really wanted to make progress against all those heretics, you just had to have some structure. You can't expect some church committee from some pisswater town to send out any significant number of suicide bombers, can you? Anyway, there's always a hierarchy, no matter how much you try to deny it. And also, we'd let in the Episcopalians.
So I took Alex back to my condo that night, fed him the best dinner he'd had in weeks (pulled pork sandwiches, cole slaw, and fries), and popped him in the bathtub so he'd smell good enough to come to bed with me. I washed him with some lavender soap I'd got in a Christmas basket from a woman nearly my age who thought she had a chance with me. Dumb bitch.
It was fun washing him, not that he couldn't have done it himself. I found out he wouldn't turn thirteen for three months. His balls had dropped, but he still was hairless -- hell, he didn't even have fuzz on his legs. That's one of the nice things about blond boys. I had him stand up so I could soap him all over, and it was so sweet how he closed his eyes and smiled a little while I rubbed my hands all up and down his boyish perfection.
Yes, I wasn't entirely pleased with the closed eyes. Who was he thinking of? Fucking Jimmy Joe? Mama? I really wanted him thinking of me, but that would come. And I would cum too.
When my left hand was soaping his little dick and my right hand was exploring his ass, he asked, "Are you supposed to do that?"
"Sure," I answered. "I'm making your little dickie rise up towards the Lord."
"Oh," he said, stiffening up to his full four inches or so. "Is it okay if I tell you it feels good?"
"Words of praise," I told him. "Do you make that sticky stuff yet?"
"No," he answered. "Am I supposed to?"
"When you're ready," I answered. And then I put a strong but gentle stroke on that cute little boner and shoved a lavender soaped finger up that adorable ass until I hit his "special" spot, and he would have collapsed if I hadn't been holding him up with my finger in his hole. I let his orgasm run its course, and then lowered him back down into the warm bath water.
It was almost a whole minute before he caught his breath, and looked at me with those amazing dark blue eyes. "Oh, wow," he said. "What was that?"
"That," I told him, "was the Spirit of the Lord."
"Can I get some more Spirit of the Lord?"
"You will, little friend, you will." I couldn't believe that asshole Jimmy Joe had never brought him to orgasm. The selfish creep really deserved being lynched.
I dried Alex with a fluffy towel, and left him naked on my bed while I took a quick shower. When I headed back to the bedroom, I was naked, and the sight of him waiting on my bed moved me from half-hard anticipation to so very hard it felt like it might snap off in a stiff wind.
"Wow," he said, "you look a lot nicer than Jimmy Joe."
"How's that?" I asked, pleased to be compared favorably to a teenager, for whatever reason.
"He was all covered with hair, like a monkey. You're more smooth, like me."
I've always liked not having a lot of body hair, and where I do have it I keep it trimmed back short. Most of my lovers have liked it too, although I know there are plenty who prefer "bears." Anyway, I walked right over to where he sat at the edge of my bed, and blessed him by drawing a cross on his forehead with precum. Those Catholics really have a lot of good ideas. "Okay, honey," I told him, "it's blessed you. Now you can suck it."
"You're allowed if it's mine," I replied. "I'm a bishop, and you're going to be my acolyte. I'll explain it all later. Right now, you'd better just suck it. And remember to swallow."
Jimmy Joe, apparently, had lower standards than mine, but Alex learned quickly. He learned to move his tongue in circles, keep his teeth out of the way and, after a little while, let the head of my dick tease the top of his throat without any unpleasant gagging. Judging by the noises coming out of his nose and the little handprint shaped bruises he left on my ass cheeks, he really did like cocksucking a hell of a lot.
He had to swallow very fast to get all my manseed down, because I hadn't had such a good cum in years. Except for a cute little dribble left on his lower lip, which I pushed up into his mouth with a finger, he'd managed to swallow it all. I sat down beside him, and pushed my tongue into his pink, adorable, cum slimed mouth. He was not really sure how he was supposed to respond, but he sort of let me explore his tongue until I released the suction and let him fall back on my bed.
I kissed him some more, especially his little pink nipples, which had gone all hard and pointy while he'd been sucking me. I kissed down his belly, and ran my tongue all around his navel, but not inside, because I, personally, find it a little painful when somebody tongues my navel. I guess it's different for other people, but I didn't want to take any chances.
"Now it's your turn," I said, and took his sweet boything into my mouth. It was the most perfect little boner I ever could have imagined, smooth, unveined, with just a hint of an upward curve. Whatever sect of the Texas United Religious Denominations his parents belonged to, I guess they believed in circumcision, and it was so perfectly done I wondered if they'd hire some itinerant Jewish mohel to do the job.
I stopped wondering then, because I was overcome with love and lust and lust and love, and because his little dick just fit so perfectly into my mouth, and because he seemed to be enjoying it even more than I was, and I was ready to squirt again maybe three or four minutes after I'd unloaded that gigantic load into his mouth.
I pushed a finger deep into his hot and pulsing hole and, once again, he was filled with the Spirit of the Lord. And so was I.
(To be continued. Your comments are welcome: email@example.com )