Date: Tue, 06 Jun 2023 13:33:30 +0000
From: smokingpervbear@proton.me
Subject: Grampas-friends-04

This story is completely fictional and any character, locations and/or
events depicted do not mirror real life. It's just fantasy. I do not
condone any activities described herein.
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Smokingpervbear@proton.me
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Chapter 4
I squirmed a little in my seat as I could feel a developing wet patch
develop underneath. I stuck my hand down the front of my shorts and
wormed my fingers under my cocklet and swept aside my tiny ballsac to get
to the cause of the not-unpleasantness. Tiny Tim's load had been slowly
but surely working its way out of my aching asshole and the wetness
had spread to the seat and coated my taint and balls along with it. I
swiftly snapped my hand back in front of my face and give my fingers a
cursory inspection. The tips glistened with a milky clear fluid and it
crept like molasses down my held out digits. I brought the cummy tips to
my nose and slowly inhaled the beautifully umami aroma. Grampa noticed
and grabbed my wrist, bringing my hand to his moustachioed lips. Whilst
keeping his eyes on the road ahead, his fat tongue snaked out of his
mouth and he licked at the cum coating like it was a popsicle and sucked
at them with gusto. Gently inserting and `blowjobbing' my hand like it
was the most delicious lollipop, he slurped and lip smacked as he
withdrew the fingers from his mouth.
"That's a tasty cream, right there. Hehe. How you doing boy? Having fun
so far?"
"Yes Grampa" I replied, wiping my hand on my bare leg "How many more
stops? I'm getting kinda hungry."
"Just two more, son. At the last stop we can grab a bite. I know a good
place. Two birds, one stone, you get me?"
He lipped out a cigarette from his pack, lit it and returned the pack to
his white shortsleeved shirt pocket. The curling smoke wafted across the
dashboard and mixed with the rest of the car air.
I returned my focus to the passing houses and enjoyed the ride. Grampa in
the meantime had slipped his free hand into and under my shorts. His
thick forefinger finding my cum lubed hole and he wordlessly prodded and
poked around there for the duration of the trip. The action had served to
simultaneously clean around the opening and re-insert the cum back into
my red raw boyhole. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the gentle,
invading massage. I occasionally looked across at Grampa. He sucked at
his cigarette and in a few moments, inhaled and nosejetted out the thick,
bluey-grey smoke. I loved him. He took up most of the bed and snored like
a train, but he like one of those funfair bears that are almost too big
to bring home but he was my FUNBEAR. Nothing would change that.


The car eventually came to a stop and sitting up into the damp seat, had
noticed we had parked in the shade of a looming tower of ornate concrete.
Grampa heaved himself out of the open car door and told me to join him.
As I did I became aware of the location. I craned my head back and took
in the building ahead. It was St. Michael's Church! I had been a couple
of times I recalled but these had been a memory blur of pews, and robes
and hooded priests at night ceremonies. I couldn't fully remember as it
had been so long ago and my brain had buried the full details of these
events. The church was huge and gray and comprised of
three tall spires. On top of the tallest lay a tall cross of metal and
gold. Grampa seized my hand, stamped out his cigarette and we marched
toward the large wooden front door, It opened without resistance against
Grampas huge bullish frame and the cool church air met us with
our  appreciation. The day had been hot and this delightful, if albeit
brief respite, was welcomed. Grampa motioned with one arm toward the back
left of the cavernous, golden lit nave. This space was flanked on all
sides by aisles of seats and we took the most rear of these. We sat back
in the silence of the church and we were content to sit without speaking.
Grampa reached his arm around my back and laid it on my shoulders. I
looked up and he returned the gaze. His black, hornrimmed glasses framing
his face looked at me and he smiled. Fresh stubble had developed on his
chin and cheeks since this morning and would soon become beard if not for
the military habit of shaving every day. Instead he liked to keep a thick
moustache in growth and this had proven to be a powerful tool of pleasure
most mornings. He lifted his hand and ruffled my hair with the tenderness
of a father then turned to greet the approaching figure.
"Ah Tom! Great to see you! How have you been my dear fellow?" Said a
very breathless, balding and portly man of Mexican look dressed in an all
black, floor length religious gown. A thick greying goatee, sat atop his
double chin and was flanked on both sides by large smiling cheeks. He met
Grampa with a warm and vigorous handshake. Grampa and he exchanged
pleasantries, while Grampa slipped a white envelope into the mans chest
pocket, nodding agreements in a whisper.
At this point in my young life, I meet many men. Not all end up inside
me, but every single man I meet, are possible lovers. I like to imagine
them, on top of me, inside me, under me, you name it. It haunts my every
thought. Now this guy. Wow. I thought Grampa was hot. This was his bald
and chubbier twin. Almost immediately, fantasy images of coupling flashed
before my eyes. You get the idea. I wanted him. I had to play coy.
The man turned to me and shot Grampa an inquisitive look.
"Hello there son. What's your name?" The man asked, now facing me and
presenting the priest collar hidden under his chin. His hand outstretched
and I took it. His other hand laid itself on top sandwiching my own but
his touch was cool and soft.
"Christopher, sir'
"Christopher, eh?" A look of recollection and recognition shot across
his face. "Of course!" Sharing a glance with Grampa, him nodding.
"We've actually met, you know. I little while ago sure, but I remember
you! I'm Father Jose. My you've grown, into a fine young man. Grampa
says you've been a bad boy. Hehe. I think we can do something about
that. What you say?"
I shrugged coyly again not wanting to appear too eager. "Sure""Right
so. Follow me" he held onto my hand and led me, surprisingly roughly, to
a large cubicle wooden shaped box with three doors. "Eenie meenie miinie
mo" he playfully pointed "Haha, I'm joking of course. We'll take the
middle one. This is confessional. Have you ever been inside one,
Christopher?".
I shook my head as a `no'
"Well, Christopher, in this room we confess our sins, bad things we've
done and the priest, that's me, will forgive you your sins. Lots of
young boys come here to confess. And I help them all" He smiled at
Grampa. "Ok?"
I shrugged and he opened the door. The interior was dark and had one
large seat that could be moved to face the windows on either side.
"Usually the confessor would sit on the other side of either of these
doors and confess their sins through the mesh but since its your first
time and you don't get scared, you can come in with me. Yeah?"
Again I shrugged. I wasn't afraid of the dark. I had become comfortable
in darkrooms, with their mysterious moaning inner and very often
disembodied wandering and groping hands.
The priest entered the recess and sat on the seat then invited me in by
the hand to follow him. I had noticed his robe was tenting a little.
Inwardly I smiled. He closed the door and guided me to stand in front of
him. It was entirely black inside for moments before over time, I became
accustomed to the dark. Father Jose was right in front of me but I could
only make out his outline. His thick neck, his round ears and the shaved
head and stubbly hairs growing above his ears.
"Welcome inside the confessional, Christopher. Your Grampa tells me,
you've been up to no good. Do you want to tell me what you've been
doing? Now, don't say it out loud. You must whisper it in my ear. Only
God and I need to know your secrets" he took me by the waist, a large
hand on either side and pulled me close slowly. He turned his head a
little and let me lay my hands on his chest for balance. I moved my lips
close to his ear and told him everything that had happened since I moved
in with Grampa, the time before that and this morning. I left nothing
out. I apprised him of every detail. Every inch I took. Every drop of cum
swallowed. Every man satisfied. As I did, he caressed my sides,
tenderly moving his hands up and down under my T-shirt and occasionally
stopping just around and above my buttocks.
The more I regaled him about my adventures, the heavier his breathing
came. Occasionally moaning in a whimper, he started pulling me closer
with one arm wrapped around my lower waist, in between his seated legs.
My lips were nearly kissing his ear and I playfully let them graze and
nibble at his earlobe. Grampa taught me that some men's ears were places
of extreme pleasure and I could tell my stories were giving this priest
some afternoon delight. My legs moved in closer until I could feel, at my
knees, Father Jose slowly jerking himself off, his robe now had fallen on
either side of him exposing his naked self. I could not see all this in
full detail but the heat bloomed outward from this area and my hands had
started exploring the cleric. I started at his knees. His legs were hairy
and they were even more trunk-like than my Grampas. I moved my hands over
his thighs towards where they united. At this nexus was the thickest and
most impressive mancock. I took it in hand and was taken aback at the
girth, the balls hanging free and large over the wooden seat. Three of my
hands could have grasped it at one time and my fingers would not have
been able to touch all the way around it. Father Jose groaned and
whispered softly "Please sin for me". I brought my lips in close to his
own and kissed him delicately. He did not open his mouth as I would have
expected but I broke the kiss a little disappointed.
I slowly lowered my self to my knees, the cold wooden floor giving no
relief and laid my elbows on his thighs, all the while still holding his
massive heat stick in my hand. I angled it toward me and rested my lips
at the tip. Father Jose jumped a little, sighed and relaxed back onto the
seat. I stuck my tongue out tasted the thick mushroom-like, glans. I
suspect Father Jose had recently taken a leak and the tang of fresh
piss hit my tongue. I loved that taste. I opened my mouth a little more
and let the fleshy pole enter my cavity. I tried not to be too eager,
letting the bear priest take control. he placed his hand on the back of
my had and he applied a little force. I counteracted and fought against
it weakly. Then, he pressed further on my head and with such force my
tongue had to give way to his moist head as it worked itself up to the
back of my throat. I positioned my self against his thighs to prevent him
from completely throat fucking me. My mouth ached and salivated wildly
and my jaw was stretched beyond its limits. He held my head like a vice
at the tip and started jackhammering my head atop his cock, slow at first
but then pistoning it over and over til I could feel his cock force
itself past my uvula. I gagged as if to vomit and he released me
momentarily. His cock stuck straight up now, the glistening shaft winking
in the little light that entered under the door. Father Jose was
muttering something in Spanish as I stood away from him repositioning my
jaw and wiping away the floods of precum and saliva on my chin.
"Forgive me my child. Satan briefly overcome me and I got a little
carried away. We... we shall pray together, yes?"
I did not respond but stood there.
He reached out in the darkness, found me in the small dark cubicle and
pulled me close, twisting me and seating me on his lap. His stll hard man
shaft had not lost its rigidness and it stood tall between my legs. My
shorts creating a barrier between my skin and his.
As though reading my thoughts, he reached around to my front and began
unfastening my button. Releasing the zip, in one swift movement, he had
swept the shorts off and from my lap and that warm groin of his was
nestled underneath my buttocks. While I took this fact in, he had lifted
my shirt completely from my body and discarded it somewhere in the
dark. He wrapped his arms around my chest and held me against his hairy
barrel chest. He squeezed me in a bear hug, his head against my ear. The
hug became all most unbearable to the pint of nearly losing
consciousness. Father Jose was whispering in my ear some harsh sounding
Spanish words again but they accompanied a tone that just seemed a little
off. Anger. Bile. I couldn't know. He released his grip and that let me
gasp for air again, my lungs burned and my chest heaved in panic. He
whispered now in my ear in English.
`Ok. We pray now yes? Together. Yes". With one hand, he held both my
hands together and with the other he removed a rope that fastened his
robe. He twisted and wound the rope around my prayer like hands and told
me to hold them in front.
He took his hands to my waist and lifted my off his groin. He sidled
around a little before I found my self being lowered again, except this
time, he had lined up his swollen shaft directly at my already red and
still cummy boycunt. Without informing me of his intentions, he continued
to lower me onto this cock and it's seemed like my hole just gave way to
his invading pedopole. A well-practiced molester, his glans found the
target easily, and the hard pink dome broke the weak tension of my
wet, pink twitching entrance. Father Jose occasionally met resistance
when his large cockhead reached the inner sphincter muscles but he buried
himself within me savagely and speechlessly, by pushing my down with due
force. I on the other hand, was reaching levels of pleasure not yet
experienced, as his thick arm-like appendage scraped, and wormed and
forced into me and my hole wrapped and hugged it with spasming waves.
Eventually, he had succeeded in lowering me fully onto his groin, that
back of my legs tickled by his thick bushy pubes. He again wrapped
both his arms around my chest in a fierce bear hug and squeezed. I could
feel his large chest and arm muscles tense and bulge as he did so and I
again nearly lost consciousness from the air being kept from my lungs. He
positioned his mouth to my ear and said "Ok you say that Lords Prayer
now. But don't make a mistake. You must stay strong and ignore life's
pain and struggles and be a faithful son". I was confused. "Whatever
happens, don't stop"
I began the prayer as best as I could remember. Within a second, the hug
became tighter and the priest lifted me and pounded me down onto his cock
with such force. My eyes sparkled and lights danced in the darkness. "I
said don't stop"
I continued the prayer and with only a word uttered I was again, lifted
and plunged downwards, Father Jose's cock, almost exiting me, and
instantly burying itself balls deep. My eyeballs rolled backwards in
their sockets and the priests arms tightened its grip. "DO NOT STOP!"
Fighting the urge to scream, in broken words, I said the prayer. With
each couple of words expressed, I was pistonned onto Father Joses cock
with sheer intensity, I'm sure I blacked out as soon. His large girthy
gland was hitting and pounding my baby prostrate and all I could think of
was that I was nearing the end of the prayer, and I didn't want this to
end. Waves of tingly warmth exploded outward from my core and I tried to
follow every nerve ending to its end before reacting to another wave of
electtricity flowing in another direction. My hole had been pummelled
ferociously and there would be a moment of gaping emptiness before
feeling like my stomach might explode outward. Father Joses breaths were
heavy on my neck and he kissed and bit at it. His tongue stuck out to
locate my ear and once, found, he leaned in and moaned a deep guttural
growl. At the same time, he felt his clerical pole swell and release
waves and waves of hot cum inside me. He tightened his grip even further
and I swear I felt a rib snap or move out of place. I think he heard this
too for soon he loosened his grip and shook as his balls and cock had
completed its function and emptied its contents deep within my bowels. We
both gasped for air and I laid back against his chest, the sweat soaking
my entire back. We both sat there, without word, without movement, other
than  deep and satisfied sighs.
Two hands pressed against my back and I felt myself being pushed off this
massive meat stick. It seemed like my hole didn't want to let go. I
sensed his cock exit my stomach, past my prostate, across the sphincter
and it flopped out beyond my exit. A large wad of cum accompanied it, and
a cool breeze of air wafted into the gape he left behind.
"Go now. You are absolved"
I opened the door and found Grampa waiting patiently, speaking on the
phone. "That's about five now, maybe six if Jose come along"
Grampa watched me exit the confessional holding my clothes, and smiling
from ear to ear, but he was more interested in looking beyond me to
Father Jose. He stuck up a thumb at the priest and it was returned by a
derobed, sweaty and half naked bear of a man sitting exhausted inside the
little wooden cubicle, his face flushed and breathing heavily. Grampa
chuckled, shook his head and took my hand, not worrying to allow me time
to dress before returning to the car. He lifted me up into his chest and
let his hand cup my butt, slippping one finger deep inside my tender pink
orifice. He walked me to the car and placed me inside gently.
"Grampa, I'm starving"
"Let's go! I think you're ready for a good stuffing alright. Haha"
Grampa said while lighting another red from his packet.

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