Author's
Note:
Folks, here's a part II. I am so touched by the response to this, well,
silly little story buzzing around my head. Some of you shared your own high
school crushes etc., others provided some great ideas as well. Please let me
know what you think of this one: is it steamy enough? Do you hate/like how
things have progressed? Should I do Chapter 3 (should you want it) from Eli's
perspective. You will find me at agospelpipe@yahoo.com.
Now, if you are, in fact,
a minor or are not allowed to access such content for whatever reason, and have stumbled onto this page through a bizarre
series of coincidences, please 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: Part II.
By
Alistair Hamish Gospelpipe IV.
Eli and I had become Good Friends. By which I mean,
his cock and my hole were inseparable. The guy was insatiable! That is not a
complaint, just a fact. We met in the rectory most of the time. But, as time
went on, we got bolder.
"U up?" he texted around
11 o'clock at a school night.
"Seriously, Eli?"
"What are you wearing?"
I could almost hear the grin in his text.
"Ratty-ass t-shirt, gym shorts."
"Damn, baby!"
"Yeah, it's pretty sad, but I was trying
to, you know, sleep, maybe?"
"Come to the school."
"Like, our school? Are you there?"
"Yea and yea."
"Don't change."
"Never, my love guy."
We don't really have winter `round here. There's
summer and there's mild summer. These mild summer nights do have a bit of a
chill to them, but I like it. I like the way my skin tingles as the cool air
rushes over it. Since nothing in Wolf's Holler is far enough to warrant a car,
I just walked to school. It was a walk I made every morning; it felt strange to
do so at night.
He was waiting for me outside the grey box-like
building that was our school. It had windows, but they didn't feel right: as if
the architect, at his intervention, was forced to etch them there. Where the
school was ugly, though, Eli was beautiful. He wore a flannel over a tank top
that clung to his chest, accentuating the shape of his muscular pecs. And a
pair of Green Bay Packers sweatpants. Don't ask; I don't get it either.
****************
"Hey, sexy," he said, as he reached forward to grab
me. I immediately stepped back.
"There's no-one here, Dag." He said in a soothing
voice as he took a step towards me, closing the distance between us.
"Hey, sexy," he said in his low, deep voice before he
pressed his lips against mine. I kissed him back. This kiss was soft, almost
romantic. The kisses, when we'd be ripping each
other's clothes off, were kinda bestial, I guess.
This gossamer kiss seemed to say "Hey, sexy."
I fucking hate myself for
writing "gossamer kiss," by the way.
Eli's right hand cupped my ass as we continued to
kiss—the kiss now becoming urgent. I could feel my dick harden and lengthen
against my thigh.
"Okay..." I broke the kiss. "Why'd you call me here? I
am not burying a body, Eli Remington..."
"Oh, we're gonna bury somethin'," he said, gripping and shaking the lump in his
crotch.
"The rectory..."
"No, no, no," Eli's voice tinged with mischief. "I wanna fuck you in old Grundy's
classroom. Where you first gave me bedroom eyes."
"First of all, you exaggerate about the bedroom eyes.
Second, this is a horrible idea."
We stood there in silence for a bit, before I slowly
pronounced,
"This is a horrible idea...I can't wait to do it!"
Eli smiled smugly.
****************
Eli, I discovered, could pick locks. So, we walked
into that school as if it were a regular day of classes. The classroom he
talked about was...a standard classroom. Really, nothing in this town is
remarkable.
I stood in the doorway, watching Eli push a few desks
together to create a "bed" of sorts. He then turned to me, his gaze calling me
over. I walked towards him—no, I stalked—I was so hungry. We kissed again, and
this was more familiar: an animalistic "I'm gon' fuck you" kiss. I pushed his flannel off, and I ran my hands
over his rounded granite shoulders as he squeezed my ass cheeks hard, making me
wince with pain.
We broke apart, as I hurriedly shed my clothes and
watched him tantalizingly take his tanktop off, abs
stretching, and a Clark Kent chest appearing. He stood there wearing just
sweatpants and a grin, the contours of his body illumined only by the moonlight
streaming through one of those begrudgingly inserted windows. This man knew
exactly what he was doing. Bastard.
"Come over here."
"Okay." My voice was weirdly tinny.
He kissed me once again, and then held me at arm's
length. I could see him scan my toned, if unmuscular
(compared to him) body.
"You're beautiful, baby. I just..."
"You just what?"
"Want you to suck my cock. Get on your knees."
I basically pantsed him, and
collected my rock hard, thick 7-ish inch long prize. Stroking it slowly with
spit-covered hands first, and then nibbling on the head a little. He was
breathing hard. Good. I ran the tip of my tongue up and down the length of his
shaft before finally swallowing his cock.
"Oh, fuck, Dag, you fucker..." Eli groaned.
"I can stop, you know, if this is killing you so much"
I wanted to say, but I wasn't going to take his cock out of my mouth. It was
hot, it was salty, and it had been several agonising
hours before I'd sucked him off. I settled into a steady rhythm, bobbing back
and forth, tugging at his balls from time to time.
"Stop, stop, stop..." He cried.
"That bad, huh?"
"I don't wanna cum yet. Not
in your mouth anyway."
My hole twitched as if by some ancient reflex. Odd,
but appropriate.
"I can think of another place you can drop it like it's
hot. Because it is."
"That was so bad," Eli said laughing. "Now, get on the
desk. You gotta be punished for that
shit joke."
The little "bed" of desks pushed together was a good
idea in theory, but it was uncomfortable in practice. Missionary proved
impossible. The thing with me legs splayed open as I balanced on the desk with
part of my ass and lower back while Eli stood and worked his cock into me was
horrible. I almost fell over. All of this was funny, nothing was sexy.
"This isn't working," Eli said, cock somehow still
raging hard.
"I could bend over the desk
and you could..."
"But I want to kiss you." Fuckssake.
This man. He had to stop saying things like that.
"Weigh the two alternatives: mouth-hole versus
asshole."
Eli rolled his eyes. "Boy, you make a good point; bend
the fuck over, I'm gon' breed you like you deserve to
be bred, little bitch."
Despite however many times it had happened, I was
always nervous each time Eli's cock attempted to push through my hole. And I
felt it again, the heat of that head. He pushed forward. I felt myself open as
I cried out through gritted teeth.
"You okay?" Eli asked
tenderly.
"YES, please keep giving it to me, Eli. Fuck me!"
"Sir, yessir."
Eli let out a contended sigh as pushed through my
ring, the length of his cock filling as the girth of it stretched me out.
"I keep fuckin' this pussy, and it stays as tight as
the first fuckin' time."
He began to thrust. The friction was driving me wild,
as I moaned with no regard for how loud I was being. I kept turning around to
look at Eli. He was hard at work, starting to sweat, but he smiled each time I
caught his eye.
"Look, baby, no hands!"
I turned out and saw him smirking, both hands behind
his head as he drove his hips forward, giving me the most pleasure I ever
felt...since the last time we fucked. The shaking of the
desk was an unexpected bonus to the pleasure I was feeling.
"Oh my FUCKING God," I
shouted, barely coherent. He'd found my "spot" again. Like every time, a wave
of ecstasy too decadent to be calorie-free arose from that spot and traveled
throughout my body, igniting my senses.
"Keep fucking me, Eli. Keep
fucking fucking me...please...I want that cock, I love that cock...keep fucking me!" I was practically
crying.
"That's the plan."
After a few more thrusts, he pulled out.
"Excuse me, the fuck?"
"Greedy bitch," he said smirkingly. "This desk will
fall over if I go any faster, but stay there, baby. Your man's got a plan."
My man...holy...
"Hold them cheeks open."
I heard him start to breathe heavily, the sound of
something slick being worked accompanying him. The breathing got heavier and
transformed into groans. These started low and began to get louder and louder:
"That tight fucking pussy. You make me feel so good,
Dag. Your little pussy makes me feel so so good, baby..."
And then, something hot hit my hole. And again, and
again and again. I gasped. He was cumming *on* my
hole. Ingenious. I felt his cock against my butt cheeks again, he was using his
cock like shovel to feed his spilt seed into my hungry hole. I squirmed. It was
amazing. *Actually* causing amazement, not "amazing" the way people say it to
describe, I dunno, fucking lemon
bars or whatever. And then? And then he thrust forth into my hole once
again...fireworks. The slickness of my hole, the heat of his cock and the fruit
of it, and his languorous groan in that deep voice...fireworks. I think I heard Stars
and Stripes Forever.
"ELIIIIII," I was a mess. "Holy fuck..."
"That, my friend, is a Boston Cream Pie."
That didn't sound right, but I could have followed
this man into an active volcano after how he'd made me feel.
"Why did you so specifically want to fuck me here?"
We had managed to locate all our clothes, cleaned the
cum off school property and were getting dressed.
"I dunno," Eli said, jaw
tensed. "It's...Just something I wanted to do."
****************
So, the lights were on when I got home. Great. There
was no sense in just standing out here. The plan now was to play it off as
Stupid Things Teen Guys Do™.
"Onward, Christian soldier," I mumbled unlocking the
door.
"Dagwood." My father, the imposing Sherwood Aurelius
King, stood up from his easy chair just as I was trying to sneak past the
living room.
"Daddy, I—"
Silence.
"I am really sorry, Daddy, I was just kickin' it with the guys..."
"Do you want a sandwich, son? I am gon'
make one for me. You must be hungry too after all that adventurin'"
I knew that it was better to go along with whatever
was happening here, but what in the blue hell WAS happening here? Sullenly, I
followed him to the kitchen.
"Peanut butter-jelly okay?"
he asked in a creepily sunny voice.
"Yessir. Thank you, sir."
We ate our sandwiches in silence. A little heavy on
the jam, but this didn't seem like the time to bring that up.
"Where were you?" He finally
asked.
"Oh...just out...joy-ridin..."
"A lie." He pronounced with finality, but not anger.
"No, daddy, please..."
"I saw you, Dagwood. With the preacher's boy. I saw
you. Outside the school. I heard you leave the house, so I followed."
Tears sprung to my eyes. I suddenly felt too tired to
deny anything. I didn't have the capacity to make up a lie, and what kind of
lie would explain away why the preacher's hunky son was kissing me and
squeezing my ass? He did it on a dare? Get real.
"Daddy, I am sorry, I just—I don't—Daddy, I'll never--Oh,
God..."
My father raised his hand. I fell silent. Still snivelling, but quiet.
"Dagwood," he said after I had composed myself some.
"No-one will understand."
"Huh?"
"No-one in this town or in this family will
understand, son. The preacher sure as fuck won't; he's
obsessed with homosexuals for...I don't know why...but not in any accepting, loving
way."
I stared at him mouth agape. What in the crippling fuck was happening here right now in my life? I mean, Daddy
said "fuck!"
The thing you must understand about my Daddy is that
this is a stoic man, strong of body—built, not in a fancy gym, but by baling
hay. He built this house with his hands, he runs the farm, and he does not
speak to his wife or children in sentences. Fiercely protective, reliable, a
great provider, just not a talker. This might be the most Daddy has ever said
to me, and there was still more coming, apparently.
"Dag, son, you have to stop.
You do whatever you want when you leave this town for college, but this here must stop. I am not sayin' I disapprove, I am sayin' that they
will run you both out of town, and I am not above shootin'
some bastard down to protect my own. I don't want to, but I will make enemies
in this town, if I have to. I need you to understand
how what you have started here will end."
I started...? A dam broke
within me, and I sobbed.
"D-d-daddy, I...sorry...daddy..."
This hulking man, my father, awkwardly placed a firm
hand on my shoulder.
"Pull yourself together, boy. Nothin' to be sorry
about."
"Daddy, we'll be careful."
"Careful? You were...kissin' right outside the school!" He winced at the
thought. "End it, Dagwood."
"Yessir." I said. But, I had an idea...
"Oh, and son?" Daddy turned around as he was leaving.
"Yessir?"
"He's a good one, that Eli Remington. Strong. You
chose a good one."
I'm sorry, what? WHAT?