This story is adult fiction containing explicit homosexual sex. If you are a minor or are likely to be offended, please read no further. If you are reading further, please consider a donation to nifty.org to help keep this service free and available to all.

Reminder: My stories are always total fiction. Yet some real events and some real places may be used to add reality.

Comments and criticisms are encouraged. This story deals with how an evangelical minister deals with his homosexuality. It is quite different from other tales I have written for nifty.org. I'd especially like to have your reaction. I will answer all your emails. Please write me at macoutmann@yahoo.com.

PASTOR JOE

by Macout Mann

XII

Churches like Sand Hill either had pastors who were recently ordained or who were at retirement age. The stipend was small, but in the case of Sand Hill, a parsonage was included. So Joe's mother came from Ashville, North Carolina to help him set up housekeeping. Otherwise he wouldn't have known that you have to buy milk to fix the packaged macaroni and cheese dinner. Most of the young pastors were already married.

Mrs. Scanlon's visit was most helpful. But after she returned home, church members often brought meals for their new pastor, and he was always invited to someone's home for Sunday Dinner.

Joe's predecessor had been an older man. He and his wife were both in their sixties; and so although he had a store of sermons to preach from, he was not particularly active in ministering to the congregation. Joe, on the other hand, set about getting to know every member of the church, especially the young people. He was very good at remembering names. He became immediately popular.

Of course, sex in the small community was out of the question, and Joe realized that celibacy was a possibility. He had taken to heart one of the things Ron had said, however, that everything on this earth was put here by God for man's use in moderation. Joe felt that way about sex, so he resolved that when the urge was overwhelming he would travel to nearby Jackson for relief.

Jackson was a city of about seventy thousand. It had a Y, where Joe could use a locker, but he discovered the LIFT Wellness Center, which was a combination fitness center, sauna, and clinic. For Joe the big advantage was that you could rent a locker by the month.

As a minister, Joe dressed casually during the week, but he avoided jeans. Polos and slacks were the rule. A suit on Sunday. When he went into Jackson, he could go to his locker, change into a tee shirt and ratty jeans and wander the streets. He could also work out at the LIFT Center to keep in shape. There were plenty of places around Jackson to cruise and any number of horny hitchhikers to be found on Interstate 40.

At the beginning Joe's congregation found his sermons overly theological. They were used to "Be Good and Don't Sin" or "Repent and Be Saved" sermons. He quickly learned to give them what they wanted with only an occasional dose of theology. His homiletic skills grew rapidly.

Meanwhile, he found himself driving to Jackson about once a month. A typical trip found him arriving at the LIFT Center around four in the afternoon. He changed and strolled the six blocks down to the Greyhound Station. He checked out a thirty-something man in the restroom, then walked back to Main Street and lounged in front of the station. The guy he had seen came out and headed down the street.

Joe took a walk around downtown, returning to the bus station about an hour later. Lounging at the same spot as before, he soon saw the same man head into the waiting room. He casually brushed his groin as he passed Joe. Joe waited a good two minutes before following his prey into the restroom. He was always very careful.

The guy he was following was at a middle urinal. He was a dirty blond with a trace of beard, about five feet ten, dressed in an open collared Oxford Cloth shirt and chinos. Joe went to a urinal two places down and pulled out his dick. The well placed holes in his jeans showed that he was going commando.

He glanced at his companion who was making no effort to conceal a hard on. Joe massaged his tube suggestively, tucked it back into his jeans, and turned to go.

"How you doing today?" the other fellow asked.

"Just killing time," Joe answered. "What about you?"

"Pretty much the same."

Joe stroked his crotch and headed back to the street. When the other guy emerged from the station he asked, "You got any place to go?"

"No. You?"

"My place isn't far."

"What all you into?" Joe asked.

"Just about anything."

"Lead the way. They call me Jay."

"Michael."

When they reached Michael's apartment, he offered Joe a beer.

"I'll have one," Joe replied, "but I'm not much of a drinker.

As Michael headed for the fridge, he tenderly tugged on Joe's half-hard shaft. "I can't wait to taste that thing," he said.

Stripped to the waist, both made small talk as they sucked on their beers. Joe (or Jay, as he now called himself) usually said that he worked for a tree-trimming service in town doing a job for a utility company. That was not bearing false witness, since he wasn't under oath; and as Jay, his story did fit the persona he had created. Michael, it turned out, was an accountant.

Soon, Michael had unbuckled and unzipped Joe and was tasting his horny schlong.

"You sure suck good," Joe moaned.

Michael interrupted his ministration long enough to say, "It's a family thing. Each of us learned to suck as soon as we're old enough to play and keep our mouths shut about it."

He returned to his task and in another two minutes Joe deposited a week's worth of cum down Michael's grateful throat.

"That was great," Joe said. "Want me to do you?"

"Yeah," Michael panted. "And by then I hope you'll be ready to fuck me."

"You can count on it."

Joe gave Michael the full treatment. He never kissed a partner's mouth for some reason, but he tongued his ears, nibbled his pecs, and rimmed his navel before going down on his seven inch upwardly curved wiener. He gave Michael a thrill and drank his cream, as Michael had drunk his.

Then, as Michael had hoped, Joe's prong regained its stamina. Michael provided the lube, and Joe provided the tool to penetrate Michael's well-used ass. It was animalistic fury, what both men needed. They would never see each other again.

It was seven o'clock when Joe returned to the wellness center, completely sated. He changed into exercise garb and spent over a half hour on the gym's machines, then changed back into his "clerical" costume and went to the Old Town Spaghetti Store for dinner before returning to Sand Hill. Good pasta and great spumoni.