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Reminder: My stories are always total fiction. Yet some real events and some real places may be used to add reality.

Comments and criticisms are encouraged. This story deals with how an evangelical minister deals with his homosexuality. It is quite different from other tales I have written for nifty.org. I'd especially like to have your reaction. I will answer all your emails. Please write me at macoutmann@yahoo.com.

PASTOR JOE

by Macout Mann

XIII

Despite what might be considered his carnal affliction, Joe was a more conscientious clergyman than many of his peers. Metropolitan churches could offer any number of programs for youngsters, such as Royal Ambassadors for teenaged boys. Sand Hill had fourteen or fifteen teenagers at most, only half of them boys. Not enough to make up a barebones baseball team. Joe responded nonetheless. He involved teens in whatever activities he could. One of the ladies in his congregation was an expert knitter. He enlisted her to form a knitting club for the girls. He organized whatever athletic activity for boys, even if it was kickball.

There was one boy--isn't there always one?--who didn't fit in. He was the one always chosen last. He was the one always teased. He seemed to have no friends, and of course in such a small community he did have none. He was the perfect caricature of a gay boy. Thin, slightly built, short, with a high pitched, girly voice. Everything but a lisp. His name was Carson McDaniel.

One afternoon Joe asked Carson to remain behind after they had finished their game. "Yes, Reverend?"

"I've noticed that you and the other boys don't seem to get along," Joe began.

"I'm no good at sports," Carson answered. "They've always made fun of me."

"Not all the other boys are super athletes," Joe said. "I think it may be something else, that they think you are girlish, that maybe you are into guys."

"That's not true!" Carson spat.

"Doesn't matter if it is or not," Joe replied. "It's no sin to be gay anyway. One of the guys that teases you the most may be. You never know. Lots of pro football players are.

"What I'm saying is that what does matter is how you act. If you can talk and walk like the other guys, they'll stop giving you a hard time, even if you screw up the game. Use the words they use. After all, God's name isn't "God." The Commandments don't say anything about "damn" or "hell" or even "fuck." It's not nice to use words like that, but teenaged boys do, and they're not going to be condemned to hell for it. And you know, Carson, all teens are concerned about their masculinity. That's why they torment sissies.

"I'd like to help you, Carson. And, believe me, I could care less if you are gay or not. But I'd like to work with you to help you act more manly. I think it will make you a lot happier."

"Would you, Reverend Scanlon?

"I've never done anything with another boy, but I...I do have urges. And I so wish other guys would like me."

"The best way for a boy like you to deal with his urges is with his good right hand," Joe responded, "but you needn't tell anybody I said that. As for the other stuff, let's plan to get together at least once a week. We might even get you into doing some exercises."

Over the next six months Carson learned not to swish when he walked. He didn't become a bass-baritone, but his voice lost the sing-song quality that it had had. He even put on a muscle or two. And as the other boys began to accept him, they even helped him improve his athletic ability. Carson's father thought that a holy miracle had occurred. Carson became a new person.

Joe remained at Sand Hill Church for three years. It was a high point in the church's long history. Such a congregation, mostly farm families, is not in a position to grow, but under Joe's leadership it was a healthy, happy harmonious group. They accepted Joes frequent trips to work out in Jackson. He did stay in great shape. They never discovered the other reason for his excursions. He did take on a few regulars for his sexual escapades and had to change his cover story. He became a construction worker from another town who came to Jackson to avoid being discovered.

He also cultivated the pastors of other churches in the area, especially the larger churches in Jackson. It was one of these who first recommended Joe to the Westside Church, when he discovered it was seeking a youth pastor. His selection for that job was cinched by Carson McDaniel's father, however. He had become Chairman of the Board of Deacons at Sand Hill, such as it was. He received an inquiry from Dr. Hancock, Senior Pastor at Westside, and wrote a response explaining in detail how Reverend Scanlon had helped his son, had gone the extra mile, spent personal time with him. His letter convinced the Westside Deacons that Joe was the man for them.

Joe was given a big farewell party by his congregation. As far as his regular playmates in Jackson were concerned, he just disappeared. That's the way such relations usually end. With one special friend, however, he did want to have one last encounter.

Mitch was on the faculty of Jackson State Community College and had a small cottage in north Jackson. He was Joe's age and as different from Joe as anyone could be. That is he had absolutely no morals, but was the personification of sexy. For some reason Joe was attracted to him as he had been to no one else. Joe got hards-on just thinking about him. On the way to I40 in Jackson, ready to head to Nashville, Joe stopped by Mitch's place for one last tryst.

It was an August morning. Mitch had no classes and he was bare assed when Joe arrived. He stayed that way most of the time. Joe was dressed in jeans but without the usual holes. He had to be presentable when he arrived in Nashville.

"Well look who's here and so early in the day," Mitch exclaimed. "Ready to get your ass poked?"

"Yeah," Joe replied," and for the last time. I'm moving away to the big city."

"We'll have to make it a two man orgy then," Mitch laughed.

For the next two hours, they indulged in every erotic activity either man had ever engaged in. Neither had any idea if they could ever get it up again.

"Before I go, there's one thing I need to tell you," Joe said. "I'm not really a construction worker."

"Who gives a fuck what you are?" Mitch responded.

"I'm a minister of the gospel," Joe continued.

"Holy Shit!" Mitch said.

Before leaving Jackson for the last time Joe had lunch at his favorite restaurant, the Old Town Spaghetti Store. Then he turned east to begin a new chapter in his life and his ministry.