Date: Sat, 29 Dec 2018 02:47:10 +0000 From: Black Monk Subject: The Pastor's Son THE PASTOR'S SON by the Black Monk We could have been friends, you know. When you and your family moved in, I thought to myself, "Finally, someone else on this street who isn't retired!" So I came over and introduced myself. We could have gone out for beers a few times. Maybe we could have started a tradition where your family came over to my place for a barbecue on the fourth of July, and you'd host the Superbowl party in January. Of course I noticed you're an attractive guy; if I checked you out, it was by force of habit, and nothing more. You have a family, you're a pastor, I got that. But what did I do to deserve your referring to me as "that fag next door"? What kind of example do you think that set for Kaden? Yes, I heard you, and at that moment, I knew I would pay you back for your slur. You might stand before your flock on a Sunday morning and preach to them about hospitality and not judging people, but you and I know you're just a hypocrite. You've got this coming to you. Think of it as divine retribution. It's almost too perfect for God not to have been involved, really. It's a very warm day, Kaden is out mowing your lawn, and I haven't cut the grass in weeks. I seize the opportunity. "Hey Kaden!" I yell over the buzz of the lawnmower, letting the porch door slam behind me. Your son looks up at me, momentarily holding the mower still. His rosy cheeks rise as he smiles. You may have told him to stay away from the neighborhood fag, but he's still very friendly with me. "Hey, Kaden, d'you..." Now that I'm next to it, the mower is too loud to speak over. I point to it and make a cutting gesture at my neck. He understands and turns it off. "Hi, Mr. Henderson! How are you?" "Not bad, thanks!" I say, surveying the patches of sweat on his white t-shirt. "Say, you wanna make some money?" He smiles mischievously and leans on the mower, raising an eyebrow. "What did you have in mind?" "Mow my lawn? For, say, fifty dollars?" "Wow! That's a good deal!" "Front and back, Kaden..." "Aww..." he chuckles. "Guess I'm going to have to earn it! Sure thing. I'll bring the mower over when I finish here." "It's still a good fee, Kaden," I say in the most inviting voice I can muster. "Thanks." A few minutes later, I'm watching him through my kitchen window as he maneuvers the mower around my backyard. His shirt is completely soaked through with sweat now. He's such an angelic young creature. Those loose, light-brown curls jiggle with each labored step as he pushes the mower forward. His arms are still lithe and boyish, but they're beginning to take on some shape. He's nearly done with the backyard, so I grab a bottle of Coke from the fridge and shake it vigorously. Then I step out the back door. Here goes. "Hey Kaden!" He turns the mower off. "Is this alright, Mr. Henderson?" he asks, surveying his work. I look around too, feigning interest in my lawn. "Yeah... yeah, good job." I turn to him. "God, you're soaking wet!" I say, pretending to have just noticed. "That shirt isn't going to absorb much more, is it?" He looks down at his saturated t-shirt and laughs. "No, I guess not." "You might be more comfortable without it..." I suggest as casually as possible. "Yeah, you're right," he says, almost eagerly. He has some trouble lifting it off as it sticks to his skin, but soon he's squirming out of it. I stifle a gasp when the shirt is over his head; his smooth, slender torso glistens with perspiration as he strains this way and that to pull it off. For a brief moment, it's like a Renaissance painting of St. Sebastian brought to life. I know to look away just in time, pretending to gaze at my lawn again. "You did a good job, Kaden," I say. "Thanks, Mr. Henderson!" "It's a big yard. I hate doing it at this time of year." Turning to him, I can't help but stare at the wet glare on his chest. I pretend to remember the bottle in my hand. "Oh hey, you want a Coke? I brought this for you." "Yes please!" he says eagerly. "Here you go." I move toward him and twist the cap off the bottle, and goshdarnit, with an explosive PSSHHH!! suddenly I'm spraying Coca-Cola all over your son. How did that happen? I was just trying to be helpful. Honestly. But it's in his hair, it's on his jeans, it's making his torso even wetter. He yelps as the cold liquid sprays him, but he's laughing too. "Oh dammit, I'm so sorry!" I exclaim. I grab the sweaty t-shirt from his hand and rub it over his chest. "This is so wet it isn't going to absorb anything. Umm..." Pretending to think, I look off in the distance and not-so-absent-mindedly push the icy bottle against one of his nipples. Kaden pulls back, smarting from the cold, and takes the bottle in his hands. "Well," I say, turning back to him, "I can hardly send you home like this. Do you want a shower? I can throw your clothes in the laundry." He takes a few swigs of the Coke. "Oh, it's alright, Mr. Henderson. I can just go back home and—" "No no, I insist. It's the least I can do. You mow my lawn, I spill a drink all over you, and I can't even give you a full bottle of Coke... Some neighbor, huh?" "Oh, but you've been so—" "Besides, you must be burning up!" I grab the bottle of Coke and press it playfully against his other nipple, and he giggles. "You'll feel better. Honestly." He considers my proposal for a moment with a big, goofy grin on his face, and then he looks at me. "OK!" Is your boy really this innocent? I'd have thought you taught him about the dangers of this corrupt, immoral world, especially from ungodly faggots like me. We get to my back door. "Hey, do you mind taking your shoes off? It's just that they're covered with grass." He obediently kicks them off just outside the door and removes his socks. "And uh... I'm sorry, your jeans are still wet. Why don't you give your shirt and your jeans to me here, and I'll put the wash on?" He hesitates. Does he suspect something? "Umm... OK," he mumbles faintly. He pushes his jeans down and the reason for his reluctance quickly becomes obvious: he's gone commando. I'm speechless as he steps out of his jeans and walks into my house completely naked. A quiet "fuuuck..." escapes my lips as his firm, pink backside glides across my kitchen. He turns around as he reaches the far side, and he catches me staring at him. I hope I haven't been too obvious, but I'm aware that my jaw is hanging open. "Uhmm..." I stutter. "Go—go down the hall, first door on the right. I'll wash these and be right in with a towel." He's naked, but he's still smiling at me, innocent and polite as ever. "Thanks, Mr. Henderson," he says gratefully as he disappears around the corner. I toss your son's clothes into the washer and lean against it to catch my breath as it fills with water. What is it about young men that the hottest ones just don't realize how beautiful they are? Your boy just strolled across my kitchen, naked as the day he came out of your good lady wife, completely oblivious to how much self-control it took for me not to pounce on him, to grope and lick his perfect, unblemished body. The sight of those tight ass-cheeks, floating gracefully across the linoleum, jiggling faintly with each step, is seared in my mind, and I dwell on the image for a moment as the washer begins to agitate. "Mr. Henderson?" His calling my name brings me back to reality. "Mr. Henderson, I'm done! Do you have a towel?" "Umm... just a second!" I holler. I grab a towel and head to the bathroom. Kaden is holding the door slightly ajar, looking at me through the opening but concealing most of himself behind it. He extends an arm around the door for the towel. Silly boy, that's not how this is going down. I shove the bathroom door open, and he jumps back, his little penis flopping up and down as he lands. "Here we are," I say nonchalantly, throwing the towel over his head. He reaches up, but I force his hands away and dry his hair. "I can dry myself, Mr. Henderson," he says from under the towel, sounding a bit confused. "Oh, I'm sure you can," I say, trying to sound as helpful as possible. "I just feel awful about putting you in this situation. Let me help you..." Of course, I use the moment to check out the young, wet body standing before me. "You really don't have to do that," he says. I push the towel down behind his neck and hold it on his shoulders. Looking at his messy hair, I can't help but smile at him, and he smiles back. "What?" he asks, laughing. "It's alright, Kaden. I want to." There's a moment's silence between us, as if he knows what I'm doing and gives me permission to proceed. I turn him around and dry his shoulders from behind. "You're so tense..." I say, even though he isn't. I rub his shoulders through the towel. He tilts his head back with pleasure. "Oh wow..." I can feel him loosening in my hands. "Is that good?" The harder I press, the more he responds. "Yeah... yes, sir..." he mumbles. You've raised him so well. He's standing naked in a neighbor's bathroom, being rubbed down by an older man, and he still addresses me as "sir". I venture further down his back with the towel. There isn't much muscle here yet, but I'm still pressing and rubbing, getting him used to my touch. "Tension in the back causes tension in the rest of the body, you know." I squat down behind him and knead his lower back, grasping at his buoyant cheeks while I'm down there. Sometimes the towel is involved, but mostly not. "Gosh, Kaden, how does a guy your age have so many knots? You really need to relax more! Maybe I should have a word with your father about this..." He tightens up suddenly. "You're not going to tell my dad about this, are you?" he asks. "Shh..." I whisper. "Friends keep each other's secrets. We're friends, aren't we, Kaden?" He looks over his shoulder at me with those big brown eyes. "Yes, Mr. Henderson." "Friends don't call each other `mister'. Now spread your legs." I dry the insides of his thighs, occasionally letting the towel slip, but eventually forgoing it altogether and just rubbing them with my bare hands. He doesn't flinch when I brush his ballsac a few times. In fact, is it my imagination, or does he spread his legs even further? The sac hangs low, seems to be smooth, but I can't tell with the back of my hand, so I caress it with my fingertips. It's like fine satin in my hand, shrouding a pair of delicate berries, and I know from the way he shudders that my touch is driving him wild. "OK, turn around," I say softly. He obeys, swinging a semi-erection into my face. I look up and see his closed eyes, still lost in the pleasure of my massage. I clear my throat to get his attention, and his eyes open, slowly at first, but with increasing speed as he sees the object between our gaze. His hands slap each other as he tries to conceal his arousal, and for the first time, like Adam in the garden, he looks embarrassed to be naked in front of me. "I'm... I'm so sorry," he says, mortified. "Kaden, this really is unacceptable." I say, softly yet sternly, pushing his hands away. The growing hardness pops back into the air, and I slap it gently a few times. "How did this happen?" I demand. He scrambles for words. "I—it just happened. When you touched my..." He's too shy to say it out loud. "Your balls?" I ask. "Did you like that?" Staring him straight in the eyes, I caress the soft sac again. He gasps, and his hardness twitches. He looks away, trying to avoid my gaze. I let the towel drop to his feet and, still staring up at him, squeeze his young manhood. It's not rock-hard yet, but I can feel it changing in my hand as I tease it. "Do you like it when I touch you here?" Your son looks at me again and nods slowly. "Don't you know how sinful this is, Kaden?" I ask as I keep stimulating him. He's staring down at his dick in my hands, his face full of conflict between what you've taught him and what I'm making him feel. "But you like it, don't you?" He nods again. "We need to do something about this, young man," I say with as serious a voice as I can muster. "Go to my bed." He looks terrified. "Wh—what are you gonna do?" I look him sternly. "Just go to my bed." He walks past me, his hard-on wiggling nervously before him with each step. I follow him down the hall, shedding my shirt as we go. "Get on it. Face-up." He crab-walks backwards across my bed. His eyes, full of fear and excitement, remain fixed on me. I slither onto the bed between his legs and hover over his dick. It's fully erect now, and I take a moment to admire it. Somehow, it suits Kaden's boyish looks and demeanor that it's not very big. The width of the shaft is pretty even, its color almost pale, and it curves slightly upward into a small pink head. I wonder if this is what your dick looks like. He is your son, after all, and in a way, it's like I'm staring at your dick. A thin mat of light brown hair sprouts around its base, though somehow I imagine you have a fuller bush. But maybe not; I thought you'd have a bigger dick too. Without any warning, I go down on it. Kaden gasps, probably from shock as much as pleasure, but pretty soon he's moaning. He still seems a bit nervous about his situation, so I let my hands roam all over him, the smooth insides of his thighs, his firm abdomen, his soft sac. I release his dick from my mouth with an audible pop. "You like that?" He finally realizes he's going to have fun here, and he smiles at me. "Yeah." My lips slide all the way down, and he groans as I bury my nose in his sparse pubes. It may not be a huge dick, but it fits perfectly in my mouth. I love the smoothness of his shaft on my tongue, the softness of his head at the back of my throat. It's like fine chocolate melting in my mouth, or a tender cut of veal. What a delight to suck your son off. Have you ever tasted his dick? Have you ever taken the most sacred part of your son's body into your mouth and given him such intimate pleasure? You better not have! Pervert. My oral ministrations go south. He seems to like having his balls licked, judging from the intoxicated look on his face, and I can taste the soap from his shower when I kiss his taint. Your boy cleans himself thoroughly. I like that; it makes me more confident about what I do next. I lift his thighs up, rolling his pelvis back to expose his nether opening, and I bend down to lick the tender flesh. "Oh God...!" Kaden gasps. "Mr. Henderson... what are you doing?" He's obviously never experienced pleasure from this part of his body. I doubt he's even thought of this as an erogenous zone, but it's a privilege and a duty to awaken your son's body. My tongue leaves his hole for a moment. "I told you, friends don't call each other `mister'." Then it's back to tossing his salad. "Oh my... God..." he gasps again. It takes him a few seconds to regain the presence of mind to ask me, "What should I call you?" I look at his face and think for a few seconds, not long. "Call me `Daddy'." He throws his head back as my tongue probes further and further into him. "Daddy..." he murmurs, chuckling at the depravity of it. "Daddy, Daddy..." He says it a few more times, as if trying out the new name. He's writhing on the bed with pleasure now, but I want more. "Tell me you like it, Kaden." "I like it... Daddy." "You know what I'd like?" I ask, caressing his ass-cheeks. "Do you want to make me happy too?" "Yes, Daddy." It's all the invitation I need. My pants come off and my cock, which has already been hard for some time, points to its target like a missile. I spit on it profusely and press the head against his twitching, virgin hole. "This may hurt at first, but I promise it'll feel good." He nods expectantly. I push in, watching as his hole expands and engulfs my head. Kaden's face is a delicious mix of pain and pleasure, confusion and astonishment. A soft, slow "aawwhhh..." escapes his lips. I give him a few seconds to adjust to the sensation, and then I push further in. He pants a few times as I begin gently sliding in and out of him, but soon he's got the hang of it. I lean forward onto my arms, forcing his hips up in the air, and I thrust straight down into him. I pick up the pace, pounding him harder and harder, pushing his shoulders into the mattress. I can tell it's still far from comfortable for him, but he's so eager to please me that he's taking the pain like a champ. It's really quite moving. I wish you could watch your son enduring his first fuck with such courage, you'd be so proud. I lean in to kiss him, to show my appreciation, and my tongue pushes past his lips. His tongue doesn't quite know how to dance with mine, but he offers no resistance. His eyes close in submission as I dominate his body utterly, penetrating him at both ends. Your son is such an exquisite lay. I probably just forgot what it felt like fucking younger guys in my youth, but it's so tight and soft inside him, and your son's anus clings to every surface of my dick like a silk stocking. Have you ever fucked Kaden? Have you ever felt your son's body from the inside? Have you ever thrust your cock, the one you used to make him, into your son's asshole and used his body for your pleasure? You better not have! Pervert. "I want you on top," I whisper as I nibble on Kaden's ear. I pull out and he climbs on top of me, a fluttering collection of spindly limbs. As he lowers himself onto me, his stiff little prick points at my face. It starts wiggling furiously as he develops a rhythm, slapping against my belly each time he slides down, impaling himself on my meat. Would you ever have guessed your son would take so quickly to being fucked up the ass? He clearly loves this. I reach forward and touch his organ, but I don't stroke him. If he wants stimulation, he's going to have to work for it. It doesn't take long for him to figure out an angle and a rhythm, sliding down my meat faster and faster to get friction from my hand. His tender jewels withdraw into his body in no time and, with the impatience of youth, he rides right over the edge at full speed, tossing his head back as his body shakes. "Daddy!" OK, to be honest, I'm pumping your son's dick now to make him come harder. With a few powerful bursts, his thick, warm nectar splatters across my chest. As he comes, I feel the muscular contractions deep within his body through my cock, and I know what's coming. I grab his waist with both hands, steadying him on me to take my last, violent thrusts into his gut. "Oh fuck, Kaden..." I whisper as I deposit my load deep inside him. "Fuuuck..." He watches me climax with a satisfied smile, knowing he's done a good job. When it's over, I slowly lift him off me, watching a few stray drops of cum slip out his loose, used hole. He's still shivering a bit as he lays down beside me, clearly stunned and exhausted at what I've done to him. He watches in fascination as I collect some of his boycream from my chest with a finger and taste it. It's surprisingly mild, but maybe that's because he's still so young. I think I would like to taste it again and again over the next few years, to see if it changes as he matures. I lean in to kiss him, and I pass his gooey climax back to him. I can tell from his kiss that he's never tasted his own jizz before. How does it feel, knowing that Kaden's first time was with an older man? That the fag next door popped your son's cherry? That your son's seed, the means of propagating your family line, was spilled on your neighbor's chest, while your son bounced up and down on his cock, and then fed back to your boy? I rise from the bed and pick my wallet up from the dresser. I promised him fifty dollars for the lawn, you know. "You better get home, kid. Your mother's probably wondering why you've been here so long." I toss some cash in his direction, and it rains down around him on the bed. He looks like a boy-whore in some sort of gay hip-hop video. "But..." He's confused. "Daddy?" he says, trying to restore the connection we had just moments ago. "Look, maybe you should call me Mr. Henderson after all." The words crush something deep inside him; I can see it in his eyes. It almost makes me regret what I'm doing, but it's for his own good. Manners are so ingrained in Kaden that he snaps back into his usual politeness, despite the pain of rejection on his face. "But what about my clothes...?" he asks sheepishly. "Mr. Henderson?" "Oh yeah." I fish an old pair of athletic shorts out of the dresser and toss them at him. "Here, wear these. Bring `em back sometime." And with that, I march out of the bedroom. I don't look in his direction when he comes through the living room, now wearing the shorts, on his way to the back door. He creeps along quietly, like a child who knows his elders are cross at him, but I feel his gaze dwell longingly on my naked backside as he leaves the house. When Kaden stepped out of your house today to mow your lawn, he was a boy. I'm sending him back to you now a man, albeit one with a belly full of my semen. If he sits a bit funny at the dinner table tonight, it's because I've wrecked his hole. Don't worry, it'll pass. But I didn't just cum in your son's ass; I planted my seed in his mind. He'll spend the rest of the day processing all the things I made him feel this afternoon, and wondering what he did to make me push him away. When he calls you "Daddy" at dinner tonight, he may be looking at you, but he'll be thinking of my tongue and my dick. Then, he'll ask to be excused early from the table so he can play baseball with his friends in the park before the sun goes down. You and your wife will look on approvingly as he leaves the house with a bat and a glove, but instead of going to the park, he'll turn up at my house, knocking on the back door so the neighbors don't see him. He'll still be wearing the shorts I gave him, though by now they'll be saturated with his scent. And as those big, beautiful eyes of his turn red and watery, he'll apologize for whatever he thinks he's done to make me angry with him, and he'll beg me bury my cock inside him again. I'll probably let him in. Your son has a really tight hole, you know... Well, at least for now. --------------- If you enjoyed this story, check out: Taking One for the Team http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/athletics/taking-one-for-the-team/ The Rite of Spring https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/historical/the-rite-of-spring