Author's Note:

Folks, thank you for choosing to read my humble little story. This tells of 2 high-school boys on the very brink of manhood, and may or may not be inspired by true events which may or may not involve yours truly! Some common criticisms I get for my writing are run-on sentences and focussing almost entirely on the teacup tragedies of modern-day aristocrats. To the former, I say that I am in recovery, and to the latter: write what you know, right? But, I have tried something different here. Frankly, I don't know if the adventures of Dagwood and Eli are a multipartite affair. I would be most keen to hear from you. So please do write to me: bouquets, brickbats, ideas, or just to share! You will find me at agospelpipe@yahoo.com.

Secondly, if you are, in fact, a minor and have stumbled onto this page the way I once tripped, fell and landed atop a schoolmate's schlong, gather yourself and leave.

Finally, Nifty has been a source of succor for many a lonely night (it's true. Pretty girls: we are just like you), so please consider donating here for the upkeep of this marvelous archive.

Without further ado, then:

 

Preacher's Son I: Dagwood,

By Alistair Hamish Gospelpipe IV.

 

"Your daddy's a hard man, Eli," I said, between kisses as I ground against his hardening cock.
"You fuckin' my daddy, too, little bitch?" he grinned, his hand slipping into my good church pants, cupping my ass.
"What the fuck was that sermon today?"
"Baby, you gotta stop talking about my daddy while I am trying to...y'know..." he mumbled into my neck.
"Don't you bite down now, horny bastard..."

Yes, it's true. I am fucking the pastor's son. Or, rather, he's fucking me. The preacher man of our town of Wolf's Holler loves to holler about the ho-mo-sekshals and The Wokes. Christ, not me mocking his accent as if I don't sound like a hick myself. But, hand to Christ, that man sounds so horny when he talks about the depravities and depredations of our kind. I am always in the pews nodding sagely, and sometimes catching Eli's eye when his daddy is frothing at the mouth (and probably the cock) shouting himself hoarse about sexual practices that are of The Devil. Well, The Devil clearly knows what he's doing. You know what they say, you go to Heaven for the weather and to Hell for the company.

We should probably exchange names, huh? I am Dagwood Pontius King. No relation to the fancy Shreveport Kings. My daddy's a farmer. Please call me Dag. I am 18, dark haired, green-eyed and wiry from farm work and track. Everyone in this town knows everybody else, and their business. My kin have been here since before the Civil War (or Northern Aggression, if you're my daddy). Eli Remington and his family are fairly new here. But do I remember the day I saw that 18-year-old God descend upon our high school!

It's not like there aren't hot guys at the high school, but I grew up with them and I know them to be reprehensible. As in, they'd kick my teeth in and call me a faggot for saying "reprehensible." You know, some day, when I go away to college at Auburn...but wait, that's not the point of this. Anyway, Eli Remington, his blue blue eyes and massive shoulders arrived at our school one spring day, and I about died when I saw this hunk in this AP English class I was also taking. We kept sneaking glances at each other. At first, his were puzzled and eventually became knowing. He grinned wolfishly. I blushed.

At the end of that class, I started walking towards this old supply room or something way at the back of the building. As the crowd of students around me thinned out, I noticed that he was, as I had hoped, following me. In this dank, empty poorly lit room, the first word that Eli Remington ever said to me in his deep voice was "Sup?"

"I don't know," I mumbled, pressing myself up against the wall, and then Eli came over, and smashed his lips against mine. Electricity traveled through my body, igniting my blood as my hands ranged across his broad back. After a few minutes of animalistic making out, he pushed me to my knees, and began to fumble with his jeans.

"Wait," I said. "Let me."

And with that, I unbuttoned and unzipped him to reveal a lump straining against dark blue briefs. I rubbed my face against it, and relished how hot it felt against my cheek.
"Take it out," he practically snarled.

I obliged, making it spring forth to smack me in the face. It must not have been bigger than 7", but it was of a nice thickness. It's what I eventually grew to call a Neapolitan dick: the shaft was a golden brown continuation of the rest of him, but the skin turned lighter and eventually pink towards the mushroom head of his cock. I also grew to crave and relish it like I did the ice cream.

I remember his guttural moan as I swallowed his cock whole.

"Fuck, you've done this before?" he asked, gasping, as I continued to work his cock with my mouth and hands.

I hadn't. But, I'd done my research. Those girls in Cosmopolitan magazine know what they are talking about.

"Shit, I'm gonna cum..." he groaned.

I increased the pace of my ministrations. I wanted to taste him.

"You gon' swallow it?"

I was in no position to answer.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit, I am cumming..."

Warm somewhat pungent liquid filled my mouth, and I swallowed it with the eagerness of a castaway deprived water.

He pushed me against the wall as I stood up and kissed me hungrily.

"See ya," and he was gone. I would next meet him at church.

***************************************

"Vanity!" A strong start to his first sermon. "All is vanity. It is emptiness. It is of no use. What profit hath a man of all his labour which he taketh under the sun?  One generation passeth away, and another generation cometh: but the earth abideth forever. It behoves us, then, to be joyful in The Lord and not seek of vanities because nothing matters."

This man. That verse does not mean "nothing matters." I may be a farm boy Sodomite but I know my Bible. Jesus.

"Vanity is a void: here, nothing grows. There is no greater example of this than the literal void of a man's orifice invaded by another man's member. What is man's seed in such a void? For here, nothing grows. There is no greater vanity than the vanity of homo sex."

That felt hyperbolic even by bigoted preacher standards.

I carefully looked around me to see if anyone else was as aghast by this as I was. This man could be a Yoga instructor given what a stretch that was. Eli sat ramrod straight, frozen in place, avoiding eye-contact.

"They call it Pride (praahd), the homosexuals. They buff themselves up, cut bodies thirsting to feed their vanity through their orifices."

Holy shit, the new preacher was a bottom. This was a very weird service.

 

"What a powerful sermon, sir!" I said later as I shook the preacher's hand, introducing myself. What? It was powerful-like: the man has good, if super gross energy!

"I'm just here to keep my flock from drowning into the devil's pool of hellfire, son. It may look like the pools in those depraved country clubs of The Wokes, but you can be damned sure it is teeming with Hellfire. Don't you forget that, now."

"Never."

 "You Sherwood King's boy?"

"Yessir."

"Good people, your kin."

"By the grace of The Lord, sir."

"Have you met my son?"

The way I had to fight a shit-eating grin from dawning on my face. Yes, you decrepit old pervert, I swallowed his fucking babies.

"I have not."

He called Eli over, and made introductions.

"So nice to meet you," I said pumping his hand. "Levi, did you say?"

"Eli." He grunted.

"I'll leave y'all to chat. Hopefully, you can be a good influence on my boy, Dagwood."

I rolled my eyes at his retreating back.

"How are you?" I asked Eli.

"Okay, you?"

"I have been touching myself thinking of that fat cock spewing in my mouth," I said quietly. "Already failing at being a good influence."

"You're exactly the kind of influence I need," Eli grinned. "Come to the rectory; I'm gon' fuck you."

***************************************

The rectory was a great choice because, despite its whole reason for being, the preachers and their families always lived in town. It was too dang small to hold anything more than...well, two dudes fuckin.'

Eli's chest strained against his shirt as he took off his suit jacket.

"Fuck, that body..." I murmured.

"You're no slouch either," he responded. "Get nekkid."

I think he may have seen a shadow of disappointment fall across my face because he came over, took my face in his big hands and kissed me deeply.

"Baby, I want you naked and on my cock," he whispered. "I...I can't stop thinking about you."

I unbuttoned his shirt as he struggled with my pants.

"My mama will tan my hide if you ruin these, man!"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

I rolled my eyes. He grinned in response and groaned gutturally as I licked the space between his steel-molded pecs.

"Fuck..."

I got on my knees, ready to start wetting his dick, preparing it for my hole, when he pulled me up.

"It's my turn."

I leaned back against the wall, and fruitlessly tried to hold onto...something...for dear life. The moment his furnace of a mouth covered the head of my cock, I thought I was going to...ascend. Now don't you say that that don't make no sense, Dag, you virgins! If you know, you know.

"Salty." Eli said, removing my cock from his mouth.

"I'll stick it in jam for you next time."

"No, I like it!" he said as he got off his knees. "I wanna taste that pussy, though. That's more my speed."

I looked over at the ancient (and frankly disgusting) upholstered sofa that languished alone in that tiny room.

"Over there?"

He grinned his assent. That wolfish grin again.

So there I was, legs splayed open as the most beautiful man (he was a man, no two ways about it) ate me out.

"Sweet-ass pussy..." he murmured as he started to spread my hole open with a saliva-soaked digit.

"Do you mean sweet ass pussy or sweet-ass pussy? Like, is there a hyphen or...?"

"Dagwood, I swear to God..."

"Put another finger in...please..." I sighed.

"That's right, you fucking slut!"

I bit back another smart-aleck-y remark because...well, why? And secondly, I was in the throes of the most pleasure I have ever felt.

I felt my...ugh...pussy (I guess) widen and I moaned a moan that originated from somewhere deep within my soul.

"How...many...fuuuccck...?"

"That's four fingers, baby."

"I want you in me." I sounded like I was about to cry.

"Beg for it."

"Fuck you."

His slapped his hard cock against my hole.

"Beg. For. It."

This asshole...

"Please. Please fuck me, Eli. I want that cock so SO bad, baby, please."

"Good boy."

Eli spat vulgarly on my hole, and rubbed the saliva in with two fingers, causing me to convulse with pleasure. Somehow he managed to produce a sachet of what turned out to be lube, and ripped it open with his teeth.

"Where did that come from?"

"Planned Parenthood; I was there protestin'" he said as he poured the viscous liquid on his tumescence.

He leaned forward, kissed me deep and punched his cock into my hole.

I squealed like a hog and Eli's hand descended on my mouth.

"Quiet."

"How does this feel so good and hurt so bad at the same time?"

Eli had started to move back and forth in a slow rhythm, but the pain, Lord Jesus, the pain...I almost asked him to pull it out but that would mean admitting defeat, admitting that I couldn't take what he was giving me. Besides, my hole had other ideas. It grabbed onto Eli's cock with a primal sort of hunger. The pain was excruciating, but I was riding a wave of a voracity I didn't know lived within me. Nothing painful about that, no sir.

"Dag, you're squeezing my cock off. Relax."

"Sorry."

He pulled all the way out when I relaxed the walls of my hole, and then dove right back in.

"OH, ELIIIIIII..." I moaned. What a slut. But, really, that man had managed to hit this spot inside me that...I...I can't explain it. Every nerve ending was on fire, my nails dug into his broad back. He hissed and started to thrust faster, his engorged organ pummeling my prostate (as I later discovered). I don't think we really gave a shit about how much noise we were making. He, muscles shining in a sheen of sweat, grunting and moaning, thrusting fast and then slowing down for a bit before thrusting again with renewed vigour ("Tryna last.."). Me, writhing beneath him, calling out his name, but mostly incoherent.

"Baby, I can't..."

"Fucking flood my hole, Eli Remington! Fill me the fuck up!"

"You got it!"

His hips slammed hard against my ass and he let out a low groan which grew in loudness as he slammed against me again and again and again. While he was cumming, I grabbed my own cock and made short work of my own orgasm. I had been teetering at the brink for a while anyway. Actually, I think I already came once? It's hard to tell: prostate stim is...a lot.

Yet, I shot a prodigious amount of cum, causing Eli to groan as my asshole clamped down on his truly sensitive cock.

I could feel his warm cum seep down my leg when he pulled out. There was a pinkish tint to it when I wiped it up.

"You bled." Eli announced solemnly, wiping his cock with tissue, and looking at the reddish residue on it. "I'm really sorry, Dag, I..."

"Don't apologize!" I admonished. "It's fine. It's just been a while is all."

Eli gave me a funny look before he threw his hulking form onto the sofa.

"Come cuddle." He said.

"It was your first time, wasn't it?" He mumbled into my neck, my body pressed up against him.

"Y-yeah."

"Dag, I wish..."

"Shut up: I loved it. I fucking loved it. I wouldn't have it any other way."

I wasn't lying. Maybe this was the post-nut haze of romance, the kind that makes men make promises they have neither the ability nor the intention to keep, but I was suddenly afraid. I was scared for us being found out and then I was scared anew for even thinking there was an us. I turned around to look at him: his hair sexily disheveled, that contented expression, that jawline that could cut glass...

"Did you mean it?" I wanted to ask. "When you said that you couldn't stop thinking about me

Snap out of it, Dagwood! A fuck is a fuck: it's not The Annunciation.

So instead I said: "I wanna ride again."