Date: Mon, 25 Sep 2000 11:43:44 GMT From: Philip Burbidge Subject: The English Boy 21 (Gay incest: MM/t etc) This is, ostensibly, the story of the sexual relationship between teenage boys and their fathers, other members of their families and itinerant horny adults. It is an adult's fantasy looking back to a mythical past where he finds emotional and sexual satisfaction between his father's legs and those of most of his male relatives. It graphically describes sexual acts between family members, which are pure invention - though grounded in personal experience and wishful-thinking. It is an adult's story for adults. The 'boys' included in the story throughout are, in fact 'disguised' adults (i.e. me!) who fantasize about regressing to our early teens with what we know now! It comes, therefore, with all the usual warnings. It is not the author's intention to incite or commend incest or sex with minors. So if such material is likely to offend your sensibilities, is illegal where you live, or you are yourself under age, do not read further. I welcome comments, observations and suggestions to which I will gladly reply, especially from those who have similar tastes. Thanks to all who have sent messages, particularly the loyal band who offer their thoughts and comments as each new chapter appears. philip255@hotmail.com Chapter 21 'Getting to grips with the priesthood' Part 1 Philip and Leroy didn't see each other for several days following the seduction of Leroy's granddad and the accidental involvement of Father Padraig. Philip's father, Alex, returned from making preparations for the various family trips to foreign parts (which still so intrigued Philip) so the boy decided to tell his father everything. "Another fine mess you've got us into with your horny indiscretions," he reprimanded his son, "You're letting your cock rule your brain!" On reflexion, Alex decided to contact the priest himself. "The poor sod is probably waiting for the police to break his door down or expecting a blackmail letter!" Alex rang Father Padraig, explained who he was, that he and his son had recently moved to the area, and asked him if he could do with a young altar boy. The priest was delighted - not knowing at this stage that Philip and the teenager who had so expertly gobbled him off were one and the same boy. They arranged a time for Philip to have a rehearsal at the church and the following day Alex dropped off his son at 7.00 PM at the front door. "I'll pick you up at 9 o'clock. That should give you enough time," he said with a wink. Philip had been given strict instructions to reassure the priest and, if appropriate, 'to be nice to him'. He knocked on the large oak door and heard the rustle of fabric as someone inside moved to open it. The colour drained from the Father's face when he saw who was on his door step. "Good evening, Father. I'm Philip. I've come to be an altar boy," he said with consummate innocence and charm. Father Padraig stared at the boy, unable to get out of his mind the picture of Philip vigorously sucking off one of his most upright and respected parishioners. "Come in!" he said, as if hypnotised and opened the door. Philip slipped inside and followed the priest to the vestry. Padraig decided to feign amnesia and tried to pretend the boy was just another trainee acolyte. He sorted out a red cassock and white cotta from a large cupboard and handed them to Philip who slipped them over his t shirt and jeans. He handed the boy a large white candle in a wooden sconce. "It's alright, Father," he said quietly, "I have't told a soul. Neither has Leroy. It's okay." As he hadn't actually spoken to Leroy, this was technically a lie, but he knew the black seventeen year old could keep a secret and his father and grandfather were hardly likely to spill the beans. "Yes, well, perhaps best to forget all about it!" he replied, driely, more in hope than expectation. Philip allowed the priest to put him through his paces; when to stand, sit, pick up his candle, put it down, move to the altar and so forth. After running through the procedures for an average Sunday Mass he paused. "Well, I think that's enough for one evening. You'll soon get the hang of it." He tried to sound casual, but failed miserably, his voice almost cracking on the word 'hang'. "I'll just put the candle away while you get dressed. Philip was sure Father Padraig was sporting an involuntary erection beneath that enticing cassock. He had developed an almost unerring instinct for hidden stiff dicks in the last few months. "Not so fast," thought Philip, his own little cock stiffening under his cassock as the priest swished off down the corridor. "I certainly haven't had enough for this evening!" He returned to the vestry, but instead of slipping off the cassock and cotta, he removed everything else that was under them. The priest returned, apprehensive that Philip had, apparently made no attempt to get dressed or make ready to leave. "About the other afternoon ..." the boy began, and approached the priest who backed off slightly. "I know you enjoyed it and no-one will tell on us. They're all in on it, anyway. It was really great. We could do it again, if you like." Father Padraig was bemused, confused and just plain scared. Who is 'they'. In on what? his fevered brain quizzed. But he had enjoyed it, at least, if you take the guilt away. He had thought of nothing else since it happened, and, as a consequence, had a permanent erection. He was plagued with reminiscences of soft young lips encasing his engorged penis, a tight young fist wrapped around his cock-shaft and a luscious boyish mouth pleasuring his manhood. "Please, Father, please!" whispered the young seducer and placed his hands on the priest's hips. He backed away but found himself trapped between the horny teenager and a large cupboard. As he leaned away from the boy, his erection became profiled in the black material of his cassock. Philip wasn't one to let an opportunity like that pass by and he moved his right hand directly on to the priest's imprisoned cock. "Oh, Father, please. It's okay. Look! Your cock wants it!" and he gently squeezed the eager member, hoping the rest of the priest's anatomy would follow suit. Oooh!" he moaned in desperate resignation, his spirit willing to resist but his flesh proving lamentably weak. Philip continued to work on Padraig's prick. Then, slowly lifting his own cassock with one hand, he took the Father's hand with the other and placed it on his thigh. Only at this point did the beseiged priest realise the boy had absolutely nothing on under his vestments and was inviting him to fondle and caress him. Unable to make his hand obey his conscience, he slid it up the silken inner thigh until it touched the smooth young testicles that nestled between Philip's legs. This time it was his turn to sigh. "Oh yes, Father," he murmured. "Feel my balls. Stroke my cock!" he begged. Padraig allowed his strong masculine fingers to toy with the adolescent's tight little nuts before moving on to take the rock-hard cocklet between his thumb and two forefingers. Slowly, but surely, he began to masturbate the young boy who squirmed with pleasure at the priest's touch. His own cock was rock hard under his cassock, creating a big black tent in front and exuding copious amounts of juicy precum. Philip squeezed it rhythmically, elicting groans of satisfaction as he allowed his new altar boy to play with his cock through the fabric. After a minute or two, Philip bent down and ran his hands up under Padraig's cassock. He quickly negotiated the boxer shorts and grasped the hard, meaty cock and cradled the soft furry balls. Padraig found himself drawn down towards Philip's upturned face which radiated sweetness and innocence. "Et in arcadia ego" he muttered and surrendered. Unable to resist, he kissed the angelic little face and rubbed his bristly lips and chin across the satin-smooth cheeks. He pushed his tongue into the boy's mouth and engaged his in a friendly joust for possession. Suddenly, Philip felt the hands massaging his penis increase their purpose. There was something incredibly horny about being groped under the cassock. The priest's rough, masculine hands rubbed and fondled the lad's testicle. He responded in kind, massaging the priest's impressive manly tackle. The urgency of their kissing increased. Then he broke away and placed a heavy hand on Philip's head, indicating the boy repeat the actions of that fateful day. Philip knelt reverently at the priest's feet and gazed up under his cassock. This was the first good look he had got of the priest's crown jewels. They was beautiful! A seven to eight inch cock surmounted by a perfect red-purple head. The foreskin slipped back easily, well lubricated with love- juice. He relished masturbating this delicious organ. Two large, low slung, hairy balls swung invitingly between his legs. "What a waste," thought Philip, remembering that priests were supposed to be celibate. "What a fucking waste! Well, not now!" Each ball was a perfect mouthful. Philip was able to take each bollock in turn and roll it round my mouth. His cock just fitted snugly into his mouth, allowing Philip to suck for a long time without getting jaw ache as he sometimes did with his dad and granddad - and as often happened when servicing Winston's monster prick! Philip sucked the priest's cock for what seemed hours. Occasionally, he glanced up into his grave face and locked on to those beautiful sea-green eyes that bore down on him with a mixture of love and lust. After some time, Philip looked around and spied a deep, solid wooden table about three feet high. He led the priest to it by the cock and hopped up on to the edge, and knelt down. Bracing himself against the wall with his left hand, he hoisted his cassock up with his right and guided the priest's prick towards his boy-cunt. Tart that he was, Philip had taken the precaution of greasing his arse beforehand. The table was the perfect height. Padraig stood close behind him and brushed his cock up and down the boy's crack before probing the enticing crack with his sticky cock-head. Philip thrust his arse back to indicate his need for the priest's member, like a bitch on heat. Father Padraig pushed his cockhead at the gate to the love tunnel which accepted it gratefully. They both sighed with pleasure as it eased passed the ring of muscle and glided up the rectum. After a few strokes to get well lubricated, the priest fell into a comfortable rhythm, pressing deep into the boy's bowels and then withdrawing it almost completely before plunging it back inside. He was relishing the physically contact with the boy and enjoying the feeling of control he had over him and the obvious pleasure he was giving him. He had often secretly lusted after choir-boys and servers but had never dreamt of touching one: 'jail-bate'! Then this 'butter-wouldn't-melt...' slut mascarading as an innocent cherub comes along to take his manhood. He increased the speed and vigour of his fucking. His left arm gripped Philip tightly round his waist and his right hand took over wanking duty from the boy's right hand. He moaned as the priest serviced both his arse and his cock. They were both consumed with lust for one another. Padraig was enjoying the new freedom of being a dominant fucker. He knew he was giving the boy a good shagging, and every so often would thrust extra hard into his arse and sadistically enjoy the resulting squawk. "You're a wicked little temptress and need to be punished," he whispered harshly, "That you do, you little whore!" Philip, too, was enjoying being well and truly had by his gorgeous priest, his physical and spiritual master. Too soon, the priest felt the boy's prick jump in his hand and knew he was ready to cum. The reflex action was a tightening of the anal muscles which suddenly gripped and released the big cock in his arsehole several times in quick succession. Philip's cock jumped again and small jets of spunk began to spray from his cock on to the wall where they formed small rivers as they dripped down. The priest's big hairy paw kept on pumping it out as the boy squealed. "I'm cumming, Father! I'm fucking cumming! You're making me shoot my load!" The wet slimy boy-spunk dribbling between his fingers triggered Padraig's own orgasm, and with a mighty thrust he pumped his first load of spunk into a little lad's arse. It was followed by several more waves of cum that splashed deep inside the velvet tunnel. "Yes!" he growled, "At last! I've fucked a tight young boy-cunt! Take my spunk! Take all my spunk! That's your role in life. To take my cock and my spunk inside you!" Their orgasms subsided and Father Padraig withdrew his spent cock from Philip's warm moist arsehole and lowered his cassock. The semi-hard dick still formed an impressive mound. Philip got off the table and rubbed his legs to get the circulation back. "That was great, Father. I really enjoyed that. Can we do it again!" said Philip pertly. "Not now, I've got appointment at 9.30. Besides which, I'm knackered. I don't make a habit of fucking young boys, you know. More's the pity! Come to the presbytery tomorrow after four. It's Mrs Robbins' evening off." Mrs Robbins was the priests' housekeeper. She didn't live on the premises, but was there most days until 8 PM when she had cleared up after the priests' evening meal. Alex picked up Philip who skipped out of the church happy with his arseful of priestly spunk and already looking forward to the next day's sex session. He recounted in graphic detail all that had cum to pass which earned him another good fucking at the hands of his father. Alex got a perverted thrill sliding his cock up his son's boy-cunt that was so liberally lubricated with the priest's spunk. After adding a paternal load to his son's spunk store, Alex instructed his son to let the priest in on some of their family fun. It had occurred to him, that after real incest, priests were a common source of lust. Many boys and men had fantasies that included priests and choirboys or altar boys and it might prove a lucrative pornographic sideline to have a real priest shagging a real altar boy ably assisted by the boy's real father. ******************************************************************************* Part 2 to follow shortly The above chapter contains many of the writer's own fantasies of having sex with a priest. Sadly, I did not have the opportunity to indulge such pleasures when a choirboy myself. If there are any clergy who would like to fill this hole in my boyhood education, I would be delighted to hear from you! Discretion guaranteed. Philip255@hotmail.com