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The Next World
I don't know if you would call the Jasper speech a success, but I recruited a middle aged woman who really wanted to blow up some Mormons. I didn't catch all the details, but I guess her ex-husband took on a second wife ten years younger or so, and she still was pissed, fifteen years later. I mean, she'd left him -- she was rid of him -- but she was still that pissed. Women. Go figure.
Anyway, I fit her out with a suicide vest, and arranged for her transportation to Salt Lake City, out there in the Mormon States. From what I heard later, she never made it into the Temple, but she still killed a guard and a couple of tourists. If word ever got back to Archie, I'm sure he was fine with it.
That was also where we picked up Angel, who had drifted up from Galveston. Personally, I didn't want any part of him, but Alex wanted me to take him on, so what could I do? It was not a good situation, though.
First off, he was Mexican, which pretty much meant Catholic, even though he didn't have a clue what any of the religious shit was about. Me, I was wondering how attracted I might be to a multiracial boy, with a lot of indio and maybe some black too. And he was only eleven, and how was I going to explain that to Archbishop Archie?
None of that mattered, though, because Alex fell in love. So we kept Angel. He didn't eat all that much, and the motel rooms still cost the same, so I figured I wouldn't have to worry about him -- or Alex, for that matter -- until we got to Oklahoma City and checked in with Archie.
Angel was not interested in suicide bombing. He was interested in the free chicken and biscuits the Jasper church was handing out to those who attended their service and listened to my stump speech. Encouraged by Alex, I think Angel ate quite a large portion before my speech even was over.
So there I am, after the service, Pastor Cletus Clemens at my side, when Alex comes up, hand in hand with Angel, and says, "This is my new friend, Angel. He's an orphan. I said he could stay with us."
"Alex," I said, "that might not work out." Then I turned to Pastor Cletus Clemens. "Pastor, do you have any facilities for orphan boys?"
"Well, yeah," he said. "But not Mexicans."
I tried to make it to San Augustine that night, but it didn't happen. We wound up sleeping in the bed of the pickup, jammed in amidst a wide variety of explosive devices. We were covered by the cap should it happen to defy all recent history and rain, but, with the tailgate down, all the fucking bugs flew right in.
I woke up too early. There was some grunting and groaning going on next to me and, sure enough, it was Alex and Angel. I guess Alex noticed me snorting, because he said, "Bishop Bob, I'm glad you're awake now. Angel really needs a good fuck, and I'm just not big enough."
I can't even begin to tell you how much I loved Alex right then. He had to be absolutely the sweetest boy who ever lived. Anyway, I had my morning hardon, and the sun was kind of dull behind some gray clouds, and I ignored my racist tendencies and shoved my dick up Angel's ass.
Angel's ass was harder and pointier than Alex's, or most of the white boys I'd known, which was what made me think he had some black in him. Regular Mexican mestizo boys have kind of regular asses, kind of a tawny yellowish color, but not with that sort of arrogant push to them.
Fuck, maybe I'm not a racist, even if I'm a Texas Republican. My cock pushed right up into Angel's ass, no problem, and no lubricant. I don't know what Alex had done before I got there, but it sure seemed to be enough. I just fucked him and fucked him, and all he said was, "Oooh," and "Ay!"
It's true that his dick was in Alex's mouth the whole time, and that may have had something to do with how hard he got off, but I'm sure I fucked the little fucker as hard as he'd ever been fucked. When I shot my load way up his ass, he screamed. That probably was when Alex would have got to swallow his load if he'd been able to make any, but I kind of doubt Alex got so much as a little trickle of precum.
Anyway, it was a good enough fuck so that I could get back to sleep for a couple of hours. When I woke up again, the boys had a fire started outside, and they were working at frying up some bacon, and they were smiling and laughing and totally cute. I took a harder look at Angel, and decided a Mexican boy was okay. Even a Mexican boy with a little nigra in him, if that's what he was. I liked his kind of big teeth and his shiny black hair, and I really liked the way he laughed, and the way he made Alex laugh. Totally cute.
I'd figure out something to tell Archbishop Archie if we ever made it to Oklahoma City. In the meanwhile, I just wanted to make it to San Augustine, check into a motel, and relax in a hot shower, assuming the motel had hot water. Well, I'd ask before I checked us in.
Rod's Rustic Cabins had hot water, but not a hell of a lot, so the three of us showered together. I thought that was fine, because the boys took it upon themselves to get me all soaped up, with their little hands just all over me. Alex, especially, was loving my dick, and rubbing the end of it across his pointy little nipples. Angel seemed to be using his face as a washcloth on my thighs and my ass.
I came again, not that I had that much left in me after that morning in the truck, and then the water started going cold so we rinsed off and got out of the shower. We dried with those tiny, scratchy towels they always give you in cheap motels, and got back into bed for a while. Alex and I did some kissing, and then we gave Angel a turn. I think he liked kissing Alex better than he liked kissing me, but who wouldn't?
I woke up again half an hour before check-out time, but I didn't think "Rod" would mind if we were a little late, since we were his only customers. I enjoyed the feeling of their soft skin against me, and stroked their beautiful little boy butts, but decided against pushing a middle finger up each little ass. We had to get up and get going so I could get to my speeches on time -- I had two churches to cover in San Augustine that afternoon -- so I ran my hands down their sides and tickled them.
They woke up instantly, screaming. In short order, they were tickling each other and tickling me. Yes, I'm ticklish. We were thrashing all over the bed, and yes, little dickies wound up in my mouth, and little bottoms got affectionately nibbled and tongue probed, and they did a pretty good job on me too. It was no more than a couple of minutes, though, before all three of us were totally out of breath, and Angel had wet the bed.
Anyway, even though both San Augustine churches belonged to Texas United Religious Denominations, they hated each other. That's why I had to do my stump speech twice. Each one brought in some of the smaller churches, so I was haranguing pretty big crowds. Just the same, I didn't do that well. There was one old woman who wanted to blow up Archbishop Archie because she thought he was Catholic, but I managed to shift her over to a real Catholic Archbishop, albeit he was not a bad guy, as Archbishops go. Maybe I should have let her assassinate Archie. It would have made my life easier.
The big problem was that the young guys who want to blow themselves up don't attend many church services. I was preaching to the old, the fat, and the indifferent. All of them already were sure they were headed for heaven, so why should they become suicide bombers?
At the second church, I picked up an old man who just wanted to be dead, and didn't care where or why I sent him. He had an old truck, and a driver's license (only in Texas would they give someone that old and feeble a driver's license), so I sent him off to Reno. I don't think he ever made it, because nothing in Reno blew up in the appropriate time frame. The crazy old asshole probably blew himself up while he still was in Texas, and made one of our awful roads even worse.
I did Carthage, and Longview, and then headed over towards Dallas/Ft. Worth. I guess I was doing a little better than I did sitting around Beaumont, but if the project was going to be worth the money, I had to do a hell of a lot better. Dallas/Ft. Worth was my big chance. We checked into a hotel, which had plenty of hot water, in Arlington. I had a lot of speeches to give.
Also, I had to think about how I was going to explain Alex and Angel to the local authorities -- especially Bishop Ryan Hopkins, who was picking up the tab for our hotel. In addition to the hot water, it had a king sized bed with a deliciously comfortable mattress and even fluffy towels. As leader of the Dallas/Ft. Worth area, Hopkins was way up there in the hierarchy, right in line for Archbishop if Archie didn't kill him first. I figured my best bet was just to leave the boys at the motel in Arlington, where they could amuse themselves and each other while I was out gathering up my bombers, and hope no chambermaids walked in on them doing anything too kinky.
In the meanwhile, though, we had a fresh room and no chambermaids or appointments until the next day. Given that Houston/Ft. Worth was picking up the tab, I wanted to call room service for dinner, but the boys had seen a Burger Buddy across the street. Needless to say, I gave in.
Maybe that was a good thing, because when we crossed back over and took the food up to our room, there was somebody there knocking at the door. I recognized him. "Oh shit," I thought, "it's Cryin' Ryan." I briefly considered pushing the boys into a stairwell or a janitor's closet or something, but it was too late. He turned a big grin in my direction.
They call him "Cryin' Ryan" because he never makes it though a sermon without a big mess of tears. Me, I hate that.
"Bob, my buddy!" he enthused. "Great to see you again!"
I smacked on a phony grin of my own, and said, "Hey, great to see you too!" I wasn't sure what to call him, so I just avoided calling him anything.
"And these little lads traveling with you? Will they be giving themselves for Jesus?"
I introduced the boys. "Alex came to me offering himself for martyrdom, but I thought he still was a little young, so we're going to wait a while. Then Alex found Angel, over in San Augustine. We're trying to find an orphanage for him that takes Mexicans."
In the meanwhile, I'd opened our hotel room door, and waved everybody in. Cryin' Ryan sat in an armchair and pulled Angel into his lap, immediately inserting one hand between Angel's legs and fondling the boy's little weewee through his pants. He looked over at me, as if daring me to say something.
I smiled and shrugged. "Are you staying at the hotel tonight?" I asked. "Maybe you'd like Angel to keep you company."
(To be continued. Your comments are welcome: firstname.lastname@example.org )