Date: Fri, 3 Jun 2011 14:05:57 -0700 (PDT)
From: dws202 <dws202@yahoo.com>
Subject: Taking Father Mike

This story is a work of fiction for those 18 and over. If you like it, drop
me a line.

Taking Fr. Mike

You definitely wouldn't call Fr. Mike, the parish priest, a hunk. He was in
his early forties and a little overweight, not too much, but certainly not
unattractive. I had never thought about in any way but as the priest and a
major pain in the ass, being an altar boy for the past several years. I
guess maybe he had made a few passing remarks and given me and the other
teenage boys in the parish a look or two that might have clued me in on a
few things, but I never really thought about it. With everything that had
gone on in the past few years, I also figured no priest would get involved
in something scandalous these days. But I did wonder.

Not that I didn't ever think about sex. In fact, at only 15, I was actually
starting to get some, though not nearly enough. One of the other altar boys
in our parish, a 13 year old boy named Chris, had made some moves recently
that had signaled he might be willing to fool around. I had done a little
of that before with a few guys my age over the past few years and enjoyed
it a lot, so I went for it with Chris. We engaged in a little mutual
masturbation and exploration, that sort of thing. I had tried a few times
before to get another guy to let me play around with his backside and maybe
even get to stick my cock in there, but no luck. I tried with Christ too,
but he said he didn't want to. I wasn't quite sure what it was that would
really get him excited, but I soon found out.

I came by the church on a weekday because I had left a book in the sacristy
the last Sunday. Fr. Mike gave us keys so we could come in the back way
when we were servers and wouldn't have to go all the way through the front
of the church. Everything was quiet, the weekday evening mass was over and
no one was in the sanctuary. I wasn't sure Fr. Mike would like to know I
was in the church when I wasn't on the schedule, so I made my way quietly
to the sacristy, when I saw the light was on. I also heard something, a
noise I didn't expect to hear in church—moaning, soft and low but
unmistakable. I crept up to the sacristy entrance and peered around the
door frame. Chris was on his hands and knees in the center of the oriental
rug on the sacristy floor, his head bobbing up and down. Fr. Mike stood in
front of him, getting serviced. Chris wore his altar server's black cassock
and white surplice, fully vested as if he were about to go to services. And
Fr. Mike was wearing his "street clothes," his long black cassock and white
collar. But the cassock's lower middle buttons were undone, and Fr. Mike's
fat cock was sticking out of the opening and sliding in and out of Chris'
mouth. Fr. Mike held Chris by the back of the head, pushing him down onto
his slick, hard cock and grabbing the hair on the back of Chris' head,
moaning with each thrust. Both Chris and Fr. Mike had their eyes closed and
looks of perfect bliss on their faces. I left without my book, and hurried
home to spend the rest of the evening whacking off to the mental images I
took from the church.

I gave it several days before I started to broach the subject with Chris.
When we had a chance to fool around again, I asked him if he had ever
sucked a dick, or gotten his sucked. His bright red face might have given
him away even if I hadn't seen him with Fr. Mike, but he wouldn't tell. I
offered to suck him off and told him it would feel really good, and went to
work. Before he could come, though, I stopped and began stroking his
spit-soaked little pecker with my hand. I asked him again if he had done
this before, and in his lust and desire to have me finish the job, he
relented. Turns out Fr. Mike had confided to Chris that he almost never
wore underwear underneath that cassock, and when Chris asked to see, one
thing led to another. Christ confessed to sucking off the priest, but said
he didn't like it much (not from what I had seen!). He also said Fr. Mike
told him beforehand that Christ wouldn't have to swallow his juice, and
that when he got really excited after being sucked, he pulled his cock out
of Chris' mouth and then shot his load all over Chris' face. Chris said
that was OK because it meant he didn't have to swallow, but I had a feeling
Fr. Mike probably liked it that way. I rewarded Chris with his own first
blow job, and I swallowed.

Chris pulled back from our encounters after that. I think he was
embarrassed that I knew about him and Fr. Mike. Surprisingly, I didn't care
that much. Although I thought my spying would lead to greater adventures
with Chris, it was the priest I started to think about. I couldn't get that
mental image out of my head, and it was making me hornier than ever when I
thought about it. Like I said, Fr. Mike was no model, but there was
something about that cassock that was turning me on.

I volunteered for some weekday services, which pleased Fr. Mike since I had
always begged off weekdays before. After one, as we returned to the
sacristy after the sparse congregation had left, I told Fr. Mike I would
change and get going. He had already removed his chasuble, and was in his
cassock. As I turned to leave, I remarked that I had heard priests didn't
wear anything under those cassocks, and was that true? Fr. Mike laughed
nervously, and asked where I had heard it. From Chris, I replied
casually. Fr. Mike turned deathly pale, and stammered something about how
he had no idea where we got this notion. I said again, "Chris told me, and
he told me a few other things about you and him too." Averting my gaze,
Fr. Mike said I had better get going. I stepped back into the sacristy and
said, "I guess if Chris wasn't telling me the truth, there's an easy way to
find out." "How," Fr. Mike asked, turning away and pretending to fiddle
with something on the counter. I stepped forward and stood directly behind
him and said, "If you're not wearing anything under that, I guess Chris was
telling the truth." Fr. Mike froze, then turned and looking downwards,
almost whispered, "Please don't tell anyone, please." After a few seconds I
said, "So it is true," then knelt down and grabbed the hem of the cassock
and pulled it up.

The cassock lifted above Fr. Mike's black shoes and socks, then exposed his
knees and hairy thighs. As I continued to lift the garment up Fr. Mike
continued to look down at the floor. After a few more inches it became
completely apparent that there was no other clothing underneath, and the
black cloth rose higher. As I pushed the cassock up over his hips,
Fr. Mike's cock and balls were eye level with me. His ballsack was large
and hairy, nothing like the little boys I was used to, or even my own. His
fat, stubby prick was soft from fear, but began to fill out as the cold air
hit his privates and blood rushed to his crotch. I let the cassock fall
back down, and stood up. Fr. Mike finally looked up at me, wary and
confused. I said, "Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." As relief flooded his
face, I added, "as long as you do what I tell you." He searched my face
before replying simply, "OK."

I reached over and unbuttoned the lower middle buttons of the cassock,
releasing Fr. Mike's member, which was now completely hard. As I stroked
him with my right hand, I unbuttoned the lower middle buttons on my own
cassock. Needless to say, my own little surprise awaited, and there was
nothing between my cassock and my now-hard pecker. I put Fr. Mike's hand on
it, and he began stroking me while I stroked him. We stared at each other,
taking in the sight of the vested altar boy and priest, stroking each
other's cocks. Fr. Mike looked like that probably would have been enough to
get him off, but I wasn't nearly through. The scene was unbelievably
perverse and hot, but I also wanted to use it to make a few strides in my
sexual education.

I told Fr. Mike to turn around, and once he did, I pulled up his cassock
again. As it raised higher, I exposed his plump, hairy buttcheeks. I pushed
the priest against the counter and bent him over, which he did willingly. I
spent a few seconds savoring the sight before me of Fr. Mike, his white
hairy legs over the black socks and shoes, the round, fat ass sticking out
from underneath the black cassock, barely exposing his asscrack and the
black wiry hairs in between. I reached out and began to caress my first
piece of adult, man ass, around the mounds of hairy flesh and soon running
my fingers up and down and in and out of the crack. I wanted to be closer,
and instinctively knelt down. I parted the globes of the priest's bottom
and spread then wide, exposing the brown puckered hole between them. I
leaned forward, then ever so gently touched the folds of his anal opening
with my tongue. Fr. Mike yelped in surprise and I suppose pleasure as well,
so I continued. My tongue probed deeper and deeper into his hole, making it
slick and wet. The priest heaved with lust as I tongue-fucked him, all the
while keeping his cassock raised to his hips. Then I heard him say, his
voice cracking with excitement, "fuck me."

I stopped and stood up, leaning against his back and raised my lips to his
ear. "What did you say, Fr. Mike?" "I said, fuck me, fuck me in the ass,"
he whispered back. He placed his head on the sacristy counter and his arms
on either side, making his body a perfect "L" shape. The cassock hem rested
on his hips while his big round ass stick out invitingly beneath, so far
that his crack spread open and exposed his shiny, wet bunghole. I pulled my
cock out of the opening in my cassock and licked the fingers of my right
hand, spreading a little spit onto my cockhead. This was no time for
foreplay, so I lined up immediately with the target. After savoring the
sight of my purple, throbbing cockhead resting against Fr. Mike's prone
backside for a few seconds, I pressed forward. My cock disappeared inside
the priest's anus as he cried out in pain, a sound that made me even
hornier. As I dove in and out of his backside, the priest's cries turned
into grunts of lusty pleasure, and he rutted like a pig while I fucked him
harder and harder. He turned around to watch, his eyes glazed over in lust
at the sight of his teenage altar boy in cassock and surplice buttfucking
him in the sacristy. Then I slowed down a bit – I wanted to see if my
hunch about how Fr. Mike finished with Chris was right. My hard prick
plopped out of his hole, and I immediately grabbed it with my right hand
and made a fist, and started pumping. My cock was still wet and slick from
fucking, and slid easily in my hand. I guess Fr. Mike figured it out too,
and didn't move. My cock began to pulse and tingle as I pumped harder,
staring at Fr. Mike bent over the counter, his swollen, bruised and fucked
bunghole winking at me as I jacked off furiously. I cried out, and my balls
tightened. Hot, thick spunk began to splatter on Fr. Mike's ass, streaking
his cheeks white and slowly dripping down his backside. As the ejaculation
subsided, I moved closer to him. He stayed still and remained in his prone
position. Reaching around, I found his pulsating hard cock and began
stroking it. Fr. Mike moaned softly, then cried out as I pushed my still
hard cock straight into his battered hole. A few hard strokes later, my
hand was covered with his own hot jizz, as the last drops of mine were
squeezed out of my softening prick by Fr. Mike's tightened anal muscles,
and dripped into his bowels.

We cleaned up wordlessly, and left soon afterwards. Needless to say, I
started to enjoy serving on weekdays at the parish.