Date: Tue, 5 Sep 2000 07:22:37 EDT
From: Bwstories8@aol.com
Subject: Son of a Preacher Man - chapter 1

Legal Notice:
The following story contains descriptions of graphic sexual acts.
The story is a work of fiction and has no basis in reality.

Don't read this story if:
**You're not 18 or over,
**If it is illegal to read this type of material where you live,
**Or if you don't want to read about gay/bi people in love or having sex.

The author retains copyright to this story.  Placing this story on a
website or reproducing this story for distribution without the author's
permission is a violation of that copyright.  Legal action will be taken
against violators.

I wish to extend my thank you to Ed for his editorial assistance with this
chapter.

If you have enjoyed reading this story, you will find other stories by me at
http://members.tripod.de/wolfslair, in the 'Other Stories' section.

E-mail responses to the stories, story suggestions, or other 'constructive'
comments or advice may be sent to: bwstories8@aol.com.

          *    *     *     *     *     *     *     *

Son of a Preacher Man - by BW (Young-Friends).   Copyright 2000 by billwstories
Chapter 1 - In the beginning.                    January 2000

I guess that I was the quintessential 'son of a preacher man' as I was
growing up; at least that's what everyone else thought.  Me, I felt that I
already had three strikes against me and I hadn't even started the game
yet.  First of all, it was my name.  My father, being a Southern Baptist
minister, selected a biblical name for me, hence the handle Zechariah
Ezekiel Handy (I bet you haven't seen two z's in the same name before). I
was called Zach for short.  The second strike was that not only was my
father a minister, but we lived in a small town in the Missouri Ozarks -
the heart of the Bible belt.  The third strike, and possibly the most fatal
flaw, was that I was gay.

God must have been in his comedic mode the day he created me.  To give a
kid that name, make him live in a religious family and then, to top it off,
make him gay had to be the most malicious of ironies.  I had learned to
live with my name and I didn't mind the religious upbringing or the faact
that I spent more time in church in a month than many people do in a
lifetime.  It was just that it was so utterly cruel to make me have to sit
and listen to sermon after sermon, quoting scripture, about the sin of
homosexuality.  A large percentage of those diatribes were espoused by my
own father and I felt that he was preaching directly to me.  Of course, I
didn't interpret the scripture the same way my father, his colleagues, or
his parishioners did.  To me, the Biblical warnings against men loving men
were made just to preserve the species.  Let's face it.  With a population
in the hundreds of thousands or maybe just tens of thousands at that time,
it could have meant the end of mankind if men had learned about the joys of
man to man sex and ceased to procreate.  As I saw it, the Old Testament
sins of Sodom and Gomorrah were not that men wanted to have sex with other
men, but that they wanted non-consensual sex, sex without love, with
another person.  I believed it was the forcing of sex on another individual
that was the sin mentioned in that Bible story, the evil cancer that caused
the destruction of both of those cities.

The New Testament is different.  The God of the Old Testament was a
vengeful, vindictive God (an eye for an eye type of God), but in the New
Testament Jesus came to preach about the love and forgiveness of his
father.  Jesus' best female friend was a prostitute (Mary Magdalene) and he
forgave her for breaking a commandment.  Knowing this, I couldn't see him
making me gay and then telling me I couldn't act on my urges.  That
wouldn't fit with the image of a loving and forgiving God, at least not the
way I saw things.  That left me with only one problem, having to deal with
the way everyone else perceived things.  I knew that would be much more
difficult to deal with and overcome.

As I grew and matured, I found these feelings harder and harder to control.
With the fact that even adolescent nudity was frowned upon by the church,
it made it more difficult for me to learn about the beauty and joys of the
young male body.  It also failed to provide me with visual material I would
need to generate the escapist fantasies I could use as an outlet.  There
was only one place where I could satiate my curiosity and gaze at what I
desired.

The communal bathing of prepubescent children was common in our community
and not frowned upon by the church, so I took full advantage of that fact.
When I was younger, I used these baths to fulfill my voyeuristic
tendencies.  I would make sure that I checked out fully every other boy
with whom I would be bathed.  Since bathing boys and girls was pretty much
forbidden, I got to bathe with the sons of a lot of different members of my
father's congregation.  Even when I became too old to join in these bath
time pleasures myself, I would find excuses to be around during these times
to see whatever I could.  When I became old enough to help out, I even
accepted the responsibility of bathing the male children myself and I
enjoyed the nightly bathing schedule.  Even though they were younger than I
desired, I could look at and memorize the differences of the young male
form.

Then came 7th grade and group showers.  PRAISE BE TO GOD.  These
occurrences were a time for great joy and a time for great fear.  The joy
came from seeing all of those young male bodies parading about the locker
room, their boy meat swaying to and fro, and then watching them soap up
those beautiful bodies and rinse them off in full view.  Many of those
young males were not members of our puritanical order and they were less
inhibited about being naked in front of others than those raised in our
faith.  I could catch many glances of their nude bodies, from both near and
far, to satisfy my curiosity and desires.  However, it was a time for fear
because I was always afraid of arousal, caused by seeing all this bare
flesh, which would cause my penis to stiffen and give my feelings away.  It
was because of this fear that I would masturbate (another mortal sin)
several times on gym days.  I would do it before I went to sleep the night
before, once or twice before I went to school, and then I would slip into
the boy's room to do it again during lunch, prior to my afternoon gym
class.  This wouldn't ensure that a stiffie wouldn't happen, but it did
lower the odds of such a thing occurring.

During this year at school, I would also pretend to be straight by talking
to the girls and by being with them at church functions (movies and dancing
were frowned upon too).  I did my best to give my family and the
congregation the appearance of being a wholesome, God-fearing young man,
though I felt like I was betraying myself.  I hate to brag, but I was very
successful with this ruse of heterosexuality and no one ever suspected a
thing.  As far as everyone else was concerned, I was the perfect 'son of a
preacher man'.

The summer between my 7th and 8th grade years proved to be an interesting
one.  As soon as school let out, I went to work for a neighboring farmer
during the day.  This was to allow me to earn money to put away for my
post-high school education. I was expected to go to Bible College and
become a minister like my father but, unless I helped out with the
expenses, there wouldn't be enough money to even afford this small luxury.
It was during this initial experience at manual labor that I had my first
sexual encounter.

Ryan happened to be working on the same farm as me.  We were the same age
and I knew him, casually, from school, but he didn't go to my father's
church.  After lunch and during our midday break, Ryan and I would go out
to the barn and fool around in the hayloft.  At first, this was all purely
innocent.  We would jump into the hay, run around the barn and play tag or
hide-and-seek, but then one afternoon Ryan led me to the loft and he
started asking me a whole bunch of questions.

"Zach, how often do you beat your meat?"

I pretended that I didn't know what he was talking about because I was too
embarrassed to admit to the fact that I did this. "What do you mean?"

"You know, choke the chicken, flog the donkey, visit Rosie Palm...YOU know,
play with your dick."

I acted shocked.  "Why would you ask me that?"

"Well, its fun and I wondered if you did it as much as I did."

"I don't know.  How often do you do it?"

Ryan blushed a little before he answered.  "Once or twice a day.  Now, how
about you?"

"I do it once in a while.  I'm not sure how often."

"Did you ever do it with another guy?"

Again, I feigned embarrassment and shock, but I knew that I wanted to
pursue this question further.  "What do you mean, with another guy?"

"Like watching each other do it or, better yet, doing it TO each other."

I must have gone beet red with that statement.  "Have...uh...have
you...have you ever done that, with another boy, I mean?"

"Yeah, both ways."

"With whom?"

"With my best friend.  We get together once in while and jerk off.
Sometimes we do it to ourselves, in one of our bedrooms, but other times we
do it to each other."

"What's it like, touching another boy's, uh...uh...thing?"

"You mean his cock?"  Ryan chuckled at my uneasiness with the terminology
and topic.  "It's fun and it feels a lot better than when you do it to
yourself.  You want to try it?"

I didn't want to rush to answer this, but YES, I did want to try.  I just
stood there, not sure of how to respond.  I had seen Ryan in the showers at
school before and I always thought he was gorgeous and had a nice body.  He
was about 5'5", light blond hair and sky blue eyes.  He had a real firm,
muscular body with nice pecs and the start of a six-pack on his abdomen.
He had wide shoulders, for his age, which tapered down to his narrow
hips. He had smooth, muscular legs, topped by a cute bubble butt, and
oversized feet.  Hidden in his pants he had the start of a blond pubic
patch of silky smooth pubic hair and a 4.5" circumcised penis that dangled
over a smooth ball sack, which contained his two small nuggets.

We were about the same size and I had a pretty firm body myself but I had a
5" uncut penis sticking out of my brown mound of sex hair.  I was always
fascinated, seeing cut dicks and I wanted so badly to touch his.  I guess
that I hesitated too long, because Ryan started to explain more, as he
tried to put me more at ease with the idea.

"Hey, if it bothers you that my prick is cut and yours isn't, don't worry
about it.  I think it's kind of cool that yours in more natural.  I've seen
yours in the locker room and I always wondered what it would be like to
play with that extra skin."

"That's foreskin," I said, surprising myself by doing so.  "I'm not afraid,
I'm just not sure if it's right."

"I know your dad's a preacher and all," he said reassuringly, "but I know
you'll like it if you try it.  Come on, just once.  If you don't like it,
then you won't ever have to do it again.  Promise."

I lowered my head, looking at the ground, and I played shy.  Even though I
was dying on the inside to wrap my hand around Ryan's penis, I didn't want
to give the impression of being too eager to proceed. After an appropriate
pause, I gave him my answer.  "Okay," I said weakly.

"Great!"  Ryan screamed, almost too loudly.  Catching himself, he spoke
more quietly when he continued.  "Drop your pants."

We both fumbled around, unbuckling our belts before we lowered our jeans
and then our briefs.  For a moment we just stood there and stared at each
other's penis, before Ryan decided to give me more instructions.  "Look,
seeing I've done this before, I'll do you first.  Is that all right with
you?"

He didn't wait for my answer and just bent down in front of me, slowly
reaching his hand out toward my slowly awakening penis.  Gently he played
with the loose skin that hung beyond the end of my bulbous red glans and he
had this strange look on his face as he did so.  He would pinch it, roll it
around in his fingers, and then he would try to slip his finger into the
sheath.  While he played with my foreskin with his left hand, he reached
his right hand out for my sac and he tenderly squeezed and tugged at my
balls.  With all of this attention, my cock sprang to life.  It twitched a
couple of times and then it started to get real hard.  Ryan looked up at me
with a big shit-eating grin on his face.  "Looks like you're beginning to
like this, huh?"

I just nodded my head in agreement and Ryan went back to pulling the skin
back and forth over the end of my penis.  He would pull it back until my,
now, deep-red colored head would pop out and then he would push the skin
back until the head disappeared again.  "Wow, that's neat," he squealed,
like a kid playing with a new toy at Christmas."

As he continued playing with the skin, my penis became rock hard and Ryan
moved to my left side, his left hand slowly stroking my erect member.  The
more he stroked, the faster his hand moved up and down the shaft and he
reached his right hand between my legs to stroke my testicles.
Instinctively, I spread my legs as far apart as I could, with my pants at
my ankles, and I became delirious from the pleasure I was receiving from my
young friend's hand.  I started to hear moans and groans coming from my
body and I got another cute smile from Ryan.

"Feels great, doesn't it?  Wait until you finally shoot.  You'll love it."

I knew from my past experiences that I was almost there.  I could feel that
pressure building up in my groin and my knees were beginning to buckle,
awaiting the expected release. I was beginning to feel almost too weak to
stand when I spoke.  "I'm going to shoot.
I'm...arrrggghhh...mmmmmm...cuuuuuming."  With that, my young creamy juices
jettisoned from the tip of my penis, as I released my first explosive
burst.  Then there was a second, a third, and a fourth burst of spunk, each
slightly less powerful than the one before it.  Finally, the rest of my cum
trickled out over Ryan's hand, as he continued to milk my member.  Once he
thought he had drained every last drop from my softening dick, he stood up
and smiled at me, while he tried to help me to remain standing.

"Easy, Zach.  You'll be all right soon.  Try to take deep breaths to get
your strength back."  He stood next to me, bracing me up, waiting for me to
tell him what I thought.  Once I was sufficiently recovered, he began his
verbal interrogation.  "Well, what did you think?"

"I've...I've never...I've never felt anything that good before."

"Yeah, I told you it was great.  Do think you're ready to do me?"

"Yeah, I'm fine.  I'll do you now."

"You know what to do now, right?  Just do everything I did to you and
you'll do fine."

"I know.  I'm ready."

With that, Ryan moved in front of me and thrust out his hips in my
direction.  Like he had done to me, I first knelt down in front of him, so
I could examine his prick more closely.  I loved to look at that
circumcised cock and its nice pink crown.  I looked at the scar left by the
operation, traced my fingers around the ridge of his glans, and I followed
the veins up his shaft with my fingertips.  I gently took his organ in my
hand and held it like it was a delicate piece of crystal that might shatter
if I squeezed it too tightly.  Slowly I started stroking his stiffening
member and I could feel Ryan's body jerk spasmodically in my hand.  I
tightened my grip slightly and picked up the pace.  I was really enjoying
finally being able to touch another boy like that and I didn't want this to
ever end.  Ryan started to moan and I knew that he must be getting close,
so I forgot about my own thoughts and concentrated on pleasing my new
friend.  I reached my left hand between his legs, so I could stroke his
testicles, and my right hand started sliding faster and faster over the
surface of his boyhood.  Involuntarily, Ryan's body began to shudder as his
testicles started to be sucked upward, into his body.  At the same time, I
could feel his cock swell in my hand.  Suddenly, his first fluid rope
rocketed from his dick and shot across the floor.  Ryan whimpered as the
second, third, and fourth shots erupted from his meat and he reached out
for my shoulders to steady his wobbly frame.  I continued stroking his
penis until the final drop emerged from the tip and then I looked at Ryan
for approval.

"Was it okay?"

Ryan didn't answer right away, but then he came back to his senses.  "Damn
straight, it was," he said, grinning broadly.  "You learn pretty quickly.
Thanks."

We both reached down and pulled our pants back up, zipped up our zippers,
and we buckled our belts.  Then we just stood looking at each other,
wondering what the other was thinking.

"Do you think you might want to do this again sometime?" Ryan asked.

"Yeah, that would be great.  You were right, it was better than when I do
it by myself."

"Cool.  I liked doing it better with you than with my best friend, because
I think your prick is neat."

"Thanks.  I really like yours, too."

"Come on, we've got to get back before they go out to work.  I don't want
anyone coming in here and finding us.  They might get suspicious with all
this cum on the floor."  After saying that, Ryan pointed toward the streaks
and puddles of cum on the loft floor.  "I'll come back after we finish work
for the day and clean it up.  Next time you can do it, all right"

"Yeah, that'll be fine."

With that, we left the barn, smiling from ear to ear from the wonderful
feelings that still tingled deep in our loins.  I was especially happy,
knowing that Ryan was willing to do this with me again.  I finally found my
partner in crime and I was savoring replaying every delicious second over
and over again in my mind.

That night at home, after I cleaned up from the long, hard day of work, I
lay on my bed, dreaming about the possibilities there might be with Ryan.
The summer was still young and we had many weeks of working side by side
still ahead of us.  I fell asleep that night, dreaming about Ryan and me
playing endless sexual games, shooting load after load of boy spunk.  When
I awoke the next morning I realized that part of my dreams had come true, I
had shot load after load into my underwear during the wet dreams I
experienced in my slumber.

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If you have enjoyed reading this story, you will find other stories by me at
http://members.tripod.de/wolfslair, in the 'Other Stories' section.
E-mails may be sent to: bwstories8@aol.com.