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From: an1662@anon.penet.fi
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Message-ID: <1993Mar20.013950.2390@nowhere.org>
Date: Sat, 20 Mar 93 01:39:51 GMT
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Subject: STORY: Fucking with the minister

                   FUCKING WITH THE MINISTER
                             1 of 2

     "Oh, you've got to go to church with me today," my
mother pleaded with me as I groaned and tossed on my
bed. "We've got a new minister and I'm sure he'll be just a
wonderful man."

     "Oh, all right, ma, all right, I'm getting up." I groused as
I dragged my limp, nude body out of my bed and into the
bathroom. My mother's voice, now having to go through the
bathroom door in addition to the stairs, yelled at me from
the kitchen, "Now, wear a nice suit, dear. We don't want
Brother Michael to think we're uncouth."

     "All right, ma, all right." I grumped. I showered, shaved,
pulled on that damned suit, and managed to eat some
breakfast before we had to go. I hated church, my mother
knew that. What a new minister was supposed to do was
beyond me.

     I watched with a pleased fascination from our usual
front-row seat as Brother Michael took the pulpit. You know
how most ministers for a small town look; either fat and
covered with acne, or tall, thin and gangly, also covered
with acne. Brother Michael, in a sea of acne, was a vision
of clear-faced masculinity. Strong, sharp cheekbones,
coal-black hair and the strongest, piercing blue eyes I'd
ever seen. His body showed a lifetime of working out,
strong round shoulders, his rippling muscles defying their
confinement in the harsh black shirt and pants he wore. I
had to keep looking at his collar, that square of white at his
thick throat, to remind myself not to look at his crotch.

     Then he stepped from behind the pulpit and perched
on the railing; and I was lost. He was sitting right in front of
me, his legs spread wide in tight black pants, showing, to
me and only me, a bulging basket with a thick rod making
a lump down one inseam. Brother Michael definitely
"dressed left", and did not wear underwear! I rubbed my
own crotch while I feasted on the sight.

     Before I knew it, the sermon was over. I groggily got to
my feet and joined the line of parishioners leaving the
church.

     Brother Michael was at the door, greeting his flock as
they exited, and my family, at the front of the church, was
the last to file out. "Greetings, sister." he said to my mother.

     "Oh, Brother Michael, you have to come to dinner with
us one day." my mother gushed. I guess she thought it was
religious zeal, but she was almost drooling as she said this.
I was kind of drooling myself.

     "Thank you, sister, but I would have to ask for it to be
two months from now. So many of my flock to visit. Of
course, I'd like to come visit."

     And we dawdled at the door while they set a date
nearly three months from now. Brother Michael wasn't
going to have to do much of his own cooking.

     "And what about your family." my mother asked.

     "I am single, Mrs. Johnson." he replied, giving mother
a title she didn't really deserve. I was a bastard child, and
my mother and I were all the family there was. Maybe that's
why my mother is so religious.

     "Oh, but that can't be." my mother resounded. "My own
husband passed away three years ago, and I know how
lonely it is." My mother just added three years of Purgatory
to her sentence with that lie, I was thinking, and so I was
nearly laughing when Brother Michael turned his devastat-
ing smile on me.

     "And you, young man." he said. "I could use some help
unpacking if you have a few hours."

     I could only nod weakly. My mother admonished me to
be home in time for supper and to bring Brother Michael if
I wished. I agreed, and followed Brother Michael back into
the church.

     He led me to the minister's house next door, into the
kitchen and through the house. Everything was put away,
everything was in place.

     "I don't understand." I said. "What do you need me
for?"

     Brother Michael led me into the bedroom, also neatly
arranged. Inside, he closed the door and turned to me. "I
had to make some excuse for your mother." he said and
took me in his arms! Before I knew it, we were kissing, his
tongue invading my passive body, my arms around his
neck while his huge hands pulled my buttocks apart.

     "I don't get it." I said when I finally got my mouth free.
"How did you know?" I didn't try to pretend I wasn't
aroused; my cock was pressing against his leg at this very
moment.

     Brother Michael smiled. "You spend the entire service
staring at my groin and rubbing yourself, and I'm not
supposed to know?"

     "Oh," I said. "Well, then, I'd better get out of these
church clothes. I dropped the blazer on the floor and
tugged off my tie,while he unbuttoned his collar and took off
the stiff white cleric's collar at his throat. Then he unbut-
toned his shirt and I unbuttoned mine while watching in
fascination. Every button he undid seemed to pop aside,
freeing his massive pectorals, showing the light coat of hair
between his breasts. His body seemed to shout for joy as
it was finally freed from the bondage of the minister's
clothes. As he finished and pulled it off, I reached for his
breasts and stroked them lightly, not aggressively, just
making sure that big body was real. It was.

     Brother Michael reached and undid his pants, and I
said, "Let me do it." And I unzipped him, revealing a thick
coat of pubic hair. I knew there was no underwear, I knew
it! As the zipper reached bottom, I saw just the hint of his
cock and balls, and I reached in, down his left pants' leg,
and freed his stiffening schlong, and it sprang out at me.

     God, it was huge! It must have been 10 inches of thick,
uncut meat!!! I grabbed hold of it while he unzipped me to
return the favor. We kissed again, this time fiercely, while
we pleasured each other with our hands.

     I don't remember when I did it, or how, but I was
suddenly on my knees in front of Brother Michael, sucking
on his long schlong, his hands on my head, force-feeding
me all of it with each stroke. I was smothering, but I didn't
care!

     Brother Michael broke free and we frantically pulled off
our shoes and socks, then pants and my underpants, to be
now naked together. Brother Michael eased me back on the
bed, and we kissed while he spread my legs and maneu-
vered between them. He stretched from where he was to
the nightstand drawer, and there pulled out a tube of lube.
I couldn't help grinning from ear to ear. Brother Michael, our
minister, was about to fuck me.

     He greased up his long manmeat and then inserted a
lube-coated finger into my ass. My butt gratefully made
room for him. "Have you done this before?" he asked.

     "No, but I want it." I said. "I want all of it."

     He laughed. "You'll get it, brother." And he moved back
into fucking position, pulled my legs to around his slim
waist, and gently slid it in.

     I took all of it, easy! I'd never known before how easy
it was to be fucked. Maybe I was just so hot, but all I know
is that there was no pain, none at all. All I felt was a wild
sense of gratitude while my preacher slid his long cock into
my ass where it was welcomed like an old friend.

     He saw there was no need for the gentleness he'd
obviously planned, and he rode me like a horseman, and I
was his hot stallion.

     The bed groaned and creaked with the unaccustomed
exercise. I looked over Brother Michael's heaving shoulders
to, of all things, the crucifix at the foot of his bed. He had it
there so he could see it, first thing in the morning and last
thing at night. A nearly naked man hanging from the cross.
Somehow, in a totally non-religious way, the meaning fit.

     Brother Michael was grunting now, as his long schlong
invaded my ass, plunging in and out at a furious speed.
"Oh, yeah, fuck me, brother, fuck me."

     "Oh, yeah, little brother." he gasped. "Oh, you feel so
good."

     "Oh, fuck me, fuck me. Ah, ah, ahhh!" I was coming,
and I groaned as my load shot out of my cock and onto this
big man.

     As my come hit him, Brother Michael said, "Oh, yeah,
shoot it on me, all of it! Oh, oh, uh, uhhh!" and he was
coming, a massive load being sprayed deep into my
bowels. And Brother Michael collapsed on top of me,
crushing me with his heavy body, and my last look before
falling asleep was a blurred crucifix, in which the cross
vanished, leaving only a near nude man, his hands raised
in a benediction.

     I slept only a short time, for when I awoke, Brother
Michael was still atop me, his shoulders still pulsating. I
kissed his shoulder gently and he nibbled on my neck.

     We got up and got dressed in silence, then at his
insistence, knelt a time in prayer of thankfulness at the joys
our bodies had given us and each other. He seemed to
have no trouble reconciling his religion with his needs. We
arose and I felt amazingly refreshed, ready for anything.

     As I returned home, my coat and tie slung across my
shoulder, my mother saw me. "That didn't take too long.
What did you think of our new minister?"

     "I think I should go to church more often." I told her.
"He's asked me to come over every day after school, to
help him out."

     And my mother said a prayer of joy at her son being
guided to the light. If she only knew. If she only knew!


from the Surf Coach Collection