Date: Fri, 19 May 2017 17:57:51 -0400
From: Orson Cadell <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: in-gods-love-4

This is a fictional role-play between two unrelated, 40+ adults pretending
to be a father and adult (17yo) son. If that is in any way illegal for who
or where you are, please leave immediately. The characters are solely the
creation of the authors. All rights reserved jointly by the two authors.
Do not repost or reproduce, in whole or in part, without express consent of
the authors who can be reached at bradborris45@yahoo.com and
orson.cadell@gmail.com. Please donate to Nifty today at
donate.nifty.org/donate.html. Brad and Orson met by reading Nifty stories;
this would not exist (and you certainly would never read it) if it were not
for Nifty donations.

In God's Love 4: Acts

*****

Dearest Son,

Brad, son, I know Sunday had to be rough on you with Deacon Kelly leaving
and all, but it was utterly necessary. You are not the only victim of that
creature (whether you think yourself the victim or not, other boys might
not share that view).

Swearing: Fuck, suck, balls, ass and everything else is NOT
swearing. "Swear on the Bible" and anything using God's name is simply
unacceptable. You can say any fucking nasty shit you want as long as it's
not those.

Porn: Porn does not make you a "bad person", it desensitizes you to God's
gifts regarding sex and it cheapens that most-holy communion. I obviously
cannot stop you but I am sorely disappointed that you feel the need to
wallow in the pits of depravity like Pornhub or XTube or YouPorn. Perhaps
it is the visual component and the visualizations I am giving you are not
strong/nasty/exciting enough? I will work harder. In exchange, please at
least *reduce* your use of those dangerous sites.

Jean Shorts: Yeah, it's very likely that you're going to find cum stains. I
often did chores after your mother and I made love, and (as you know from
last week), I leak for quite a while after orgasm. And, yes, I still jack
off occasionally, and some residual drippage is likely trapped in the cloth
as well.

Office Door: In the jamb near the top of the frame, you'll find a metal
lever. If you flip that down (or is stiff and takes effort), it shoots a
bolt that cannot be unlocked from the outside. I have always used it when
working with my most troubled parishioners. It is an absolute guarantee of
privacy.

Mr Severn: He does not know and does not need to know that he is standing
in for me, per se. I share this next with you as a sacred trust not to be
even HINTED at with him or anyone else. He believes that YOU are helping
HIM. He is absolutely desperate for a son to teach and 'take' sexually,
something the Lord denied him by sending him only daughters. I am
absolutely certain, though, that he had several decades of deeply nasty
needs built up and should more than satisfy your own.

I will send today's (tomorrow's, as I am writing this by lanternlight)
Visualization and Assignment in a bit. The words of your letter, and
dwelling on it as I replied, has left me so hard and leaking that I am in
actual pain and need to take care of that before I can think of something
appropriately-nasty for you.

With Unquenchable Love,
Your Desperate, Dreaming Daddy

*****

Son,

Whew. Sorry. I simply could not write another word. I had to filch a pair
of Minister Hawkins' dirty boxers as a cum rag; the ones I stole from you
no longer soak up my loads, especially the huge ones I drop after getting
your letters. I am pretty sure you met Minister Hawkins a couple years ago?
Looks like Paul Bunyan and smells like his blue ox, Babe? It's one reason
he's perfect here; his rather pungent (and delicious) BO is not a
distraction when everyone reeks. Anyway, his tent-sized shorts are perfect
for my needs (and yours).

I promised daily Visualizations and Assignments. The Assignment from
yesterday stands for the duration. I want you jacking *at least* three
loads out while sitting or kneeling next to my desk every single day. It
will keep the edge off until I can get home and we can share our FaST
Retreat.

Monday's Visualization:

That first night, you confessed to me what you needed from me and almost
went to that monster for, and we prayed together, bringing you to a very
fulfilling orgasm. Today's visualization is the next night. I come to you
at bedtime and we pray together as a Father and Son should. As the prayers
finish, I sit with you on your bedside.

"I know you masturbate, Brad." I assume you blush and stammer; all boys
do. "It's fine, son, and healthy, too. I want to help you son, so show
Daddy how you do it." I laugh at your mortified look but tease and coax you
into pulling down your PJs and undies. I lean forward and show you how to
hook your PJ top behind your neck to keep it out of the way but also ready
to be deployed quickly in case of a Mom-Related Emergency.

You begin to frantically frig yourself. "Stop, son, stop! You'll tank it
off, Brad. And you'll get blisters that will make it a torment for a
week. Also, it's not a race, son. Stay here and rest a second." I'm back in
a moment with a plastic bottle with a pump top and a soft towel. "Son, this
is your mom's St Ives lotion. ALWAYS take one from her 'back stock' under
the sink. She never knows how much she has and will never miss it. Also, if
she switches to another brand, it's not embarrassing to buy. If the clerk
knows you're using it for this, it means he is too."

I pump a dollop into your hand and watch you start again. "You're doing
fine, son, and there are a thousand ways to beat off, but let Daddy show
you some tricks. I tuck my own shorts beneath my bull balls and tug my
shirt up over my shoulders. I can tell you expect me to jack off for you
and I can see the shock on your face as I pull your small, St Ives-covered
hand to my cock.

Grip it. Feel the girth. "Brad, I know I seem really big to you now, son,
but you'll be just as big as Daddy one day." I hold your wrist and drag is
slowly, tenderly, softly up and down. Fell the skin slide under your
fingers, son, feel the difference when you get to the flange and rub across
the glans, then listen how I hiss as I pull your hand just as slowly south.

I grab your other hand and squirt more lotion into it, and bring it to join
the first. "Make Daddy feel good, Brad." I have you interleave your fingers
and guide you to slowly twist a little as you go up and down, making it
last. You get lost in the sensation of my Daddy Dick running through your
slimy hands, the hardness beneath and the softness of the skin itself. You
hear my breath get short and watch in amazement as my balls, so very large
compared to your own, draw up tight. I moan, "Oh, Lord, Brad! Do it! Make
Daddy, cum, Brad! Make me cuuuuuuu--" Suddenly, I erupt, shooting thick
ropes up across the fur of my check and belly and you keep stroking,
mesmerized, until I finally giggle (yes, I giggle) and pull your hands away
from my oversensitive cock.

"Last lesson for tonight, son," I say as I catch my breath and coat my own
right hand with St Ives. "You pumped yourself the way most guys do, in your
fist. Watch this though." I turn my fist over, thumb pointed down and let
your cocklet flow through the tight fist, so much more sensitive and the
thumb doing amazing things to the underside of your cock where fingers are
normally found. I stroke that way until your breath catches, then switch.

I hold my hand up in the 'OK' sign, "This is a great way to stretch it out,
son, and until you get a lot more length can be really special." I run the
tight finger-thumb ring up and down your prick, paying special attention at
the flange and the tip before continuing. Again, I wait for your breathing
to change and pull back. You whine in frustration but I prevent your hands
from reaching in and ending the session.

I laugh, "One last one, Brad, and then we're done for the night." I grab
your shaft firmly with my 'dry' hand, dragging any skin down and well away
from your cockhead. I begin to twirl my fingertips round and round and
round the very tip of your dick, the glans, the flange, the meatus. Faster
and faster until I hear you start to keen at the intense sensation. "Now
cum for Daddy, Brad. Show me how much a man you are, son!" I yank back my
'dry' fist and give you three tight, hard, deep strokes, tip to base and
back and your cum begins to fly as you shout in release. You've never come
so hard, so long, so completely. You are shooting everywhere, Brad, and can
hardly breathe.

I wipe each of us off while the room spins for you, and have you
reassembled in your PJs, tucked you in and kissed your forehead good night
before you even come all the way back from that incredible
explosion. "Sleep tight, my precious big boy."

Monday's Assignment:

Filch a bottle of St Ives (the one with Vitamin E and Avocado if there's
more than one type) from Mom's back-stock and try it as lube as you blast
off a load in my office, thinking about what might have been if I'd started
sooner in being a good father, or you'd come to me with your need at the
very start. Keep it in the office for when I get back, son, and think of
all we'll be doing with it.

In Love, Lust and Longing,
-Daddy.

*****

Dearest Dogwater Dad,

Again, you have blown me away. This visualization actually brought some
tears to my eyes when I was acting it out because when I was laying in bed
at night at age 10, 11 or 12 I would be praying and dreaming this would
happen. Every night I would want you to come in and touch me and kiss me
and then teach me these things, but it never happened. Is this true, is it
really happening now??? Better late than never LOL By the way your office
is getting the best smell to it. Good thing no one uses it while you are
gone. I am leaving your shorts there and using them as my new cum rag.

Speaking of....you have a present, a type of care package addressed only to
you, that should be arriving in the next few days. I sent you my running
shorts, packaged up discreetly, the ones that I've used as my cum rag for a
year now without washing. You will discern what to do with them. Follow the
leading...

The lube lotion was a great piece of Godly counsel. It's actually perfect
for stroking, dad!

So can I ask you, before we talked honestly how often would you wank off?
Be real with me please. What would you think of? I am trying to remember
your cum and how it tasted when you were here. It's just not nearly
enough. Dad when you move back I promise I will take care of your stunning
hose daily and drain it. I will nurture it and care for your cock as a mom
cares for a child. I WILL take care of the man of God. I just want your
holy seed filling me daily...  we will make this part of our daily prayer,
bible reading and discipleship time together. Just like you and grandpa...

Speaking of Grandpa, I can't take it anymore. Dad, tell me more stories. So
much that I can be a fly on the wall watching you two.

Have you talked with him since we talked? You mentioned that you would.  I
don't mean to be pushy but I sense that maybe you still need him as much as
I need you. Dad when I'm 45 and you are 67, I still want to be making love
with you. I have to believe there's still something available for the three
of us to experience God together without shame or fear.

By the way, how did you know the names of all the largest 3 free
xxxpornsites? Interesting...

Lastly, I wanted you to know that I'm meeting Mr Severn downtown at his
private office tomorrow at 4pm after school.  I told him what you said (I'm
guessing you emailed him, because he wasn't surprised to hear from me) and
he said he was excited and humbled to be helped by Pastor Orson's son.  I'm
nervous but excited. Don't know what to expect. Any advice or wishes?

Love you Pops,

brad the debased

*****

Beautiful Bad Boy Brad,

You are certainly NOT debased... though we might work on that later. ;)

I literally moaned so loud when I read about your "care package" that
Minister Jessica asked through the tent wall if I was okay. Frankly, no!
I'm going to be hard until it gets here! I've just packed and shipped a
present for you as well. Double-bagged in a padded envelope from "El
Porvenir Mission Accounting" to "Pastor Orson, EYES ONLY" you will find my
compression shorts, reeking with a week and a half worth of ball-sweat and
dogwater and not a little post-yank cum leakage. Made absolutely sure that
the office is sealed tight before opening it. Also, you make need to pop
the eve windows afterwards or the office might not be breathable, you nasty
little boy.

I guarantee you, son. That you will have all of my seed that you can take
when we are back together. It's why you are kneeling next to my desk as you
pump, load after load in my office. It's where you and your mouth will be
for a long, long time to cum.

You ask how often I jack off? Well, when I was your age, perhaps three to
five times, depending on whether Daddy (Reverend Cadell) was around to
relive the tension in some other way. The next part will surely disgust
you, as no one ever wants to think of their parents having sex. During the
first years of marriage, I never jacked off. Your mom caught me once and
literally dragged me to the bedroom and made sure that there was nothing
left to jack out. Nearly 20 years in, and she still drains me at least a
half-dozen times per week, so I only jerk perhaps once a day, if that. Now?
In this jungle hell? Thinking of my lusty, hunky man of a son on his knees?
Every fucking chance I get! At least four to six times per day. I keep
Neosporin handy for the scrapes and blisters!

The names of the porn sites? Um, well, I'm sure you mentioned them in your
letter... right?

Mr Severn: Play the sexually-desperate but completely-inexperienced and
sexually-ignorant son (the former will be easy and the latter, well, you'll
just have to act). He will take you places that neither of us imagined if
my guess is correct. Let him lead, son, and use "Yes, Daddy," and "Is this
the right way, Papa" and such as much as you can.

Tuesday Visualization:

A sixteen-year-old Orson and a 36-year old Reverend (then Pastor) Cadell
are in his office. I'm sitting in front of him, looking up. "Daddy, do we
have time to play?" He's in the flush of manhood, not a grey hair to be
seen, massive and virile and powerful and strong. He says nothing so I
start to whine and beg. He finally nods and smiles and I frantically start
peeling off my clothes. They fly everywhere. I reach for his belt and he
says no, so I unzip him, pulling his huge, flaccid cock out along with his
big ole balls. I'm rampant and leaking, my cock about the size of yours
now.

I push my face as far as possible in beside his junk to wallow in the musk
there. Daddy is earthier than I am, stronger but not as sharp, as
pungent. I lick his balls and I try to suck in more and more of that
musk. I swap sides a couple time, grunting and moaning for more. It has an
effect and Daddy starts to chub a little. The big hose doesn't grow long,
but it thickens slowly.

He reaches down and grabs my head, grinding me into his balls before
putting me in front of his manhood. I know what's expected and begin to
kiss it loudly and wetly. He throws his head back and growls as he holds my
head in place. He loves that sound, that sensation, as I cover the head of
his dick if sloppy smooches. He thickens more and the big anaconda starts
to push forward, rising on its own. Finally, FINALLY, he says, "Slowly,
Orson."

I am dying to dive down until my nose is buried in his pubes and his thick
snake has slithered down my gullet, but I know he likes the buildup as much
as the act. I slowly nurse his head, gradually taking more and more until I
have his and the foreskin inside my mouth. This is the part I love best. I
lock the lead in place with my lips and let my tongue probe deep. There is
never any real smegma, frankly because I do this so often. I briefly
consider abstaining so I can let that rich cheese develop, then throw the
thought aside. NOT taking this, tonguing and making my Daddy growl and
groan? Never.

I take my time in bliss until Daddy's hand on my head nudges me. He is
ready for more. I slowly inch my lips forward link they're inchworms
crawling up a tree-trunk, tongue going wild behind them. It takes perhaps
twenty minutes to get all the way to where his python rests at the gateway
to my throat. I mastered this long ago, but it's still a challenge. I build
up more and more saliva in my mouth, tonguing and teasing. Finally, I begin
to swallow and the big log is coaxed with the spittle into my throat.

This is the part that is heaven. Seeing how far I can take him before I
have to pull back slightly for air. I once actually passed out because I
refused to relinquish his cock (and got a blistered ass for doing
so). Daddy begins to pet my hair with both hands, one after the other in
long and loving strokes, and I moan around his prick.

I hear his voice, "Orson, son, you've done so good today. Go ahead and let
yourself go, my horny little puppy-dog." OH SWEET LORD, this is my
favorite, one of Daddy's ultimate treats for me. I pull myself forward and
tuck my cock under the hem of his pantsleg, feeling the thick fur of his
calf tickle my desperate penis.

After several deep breaths, I take him as deep as is humanly possible and
begin to corkscrew my head and neck to get just a tiny bit more, and I
start to hump his leg like the puppy-dog he called me. I start to whine and
whimper around Daddy's big prick and hear him growl, then ROAR out in
release as his seed begin to pump straight down my throat. I pull back
enough that I can taste this communion just as the tickle-hairs and
rayon-slickness on either side of my own hunching prick become to much. I
squeal around my Daddy's spurting hose, making him growl again with the
sensation and I unload over and over and over up his pantsleg, soaking his
fur and the material with my juice as I suck his own load deep within me.

Tuesday Assignment:

This one is easy, in a way. Play the innocent, wide-eyed virgin for Mr
Severn. Say no to nothing (I know you won't) but make him explain and coax
you. Make him work for it. Play dumb, innocent, surprised, unsure and
oh-so-willing. It is a great gift you'll give him, son, and one he has
needed for years. Make me proud and drain him dry, Brad. And tell me every
fucking detail when you're done.

Lustfully Aching for You,
-Daddy

*****

My Fucktastic Daddy Bear,

Once again, I can't tell you what your email meant to me (or did to me for
that matter lol). I have read it over and over again and each time I find
myself in the middle of a pool of the most glorious precum. Naked and
wishing you were there with me. I feel like we are already spiritually
united even before you officially inseminate me with your Holy Seed, great
man of God. I am so looking forward to that!

I will get to Mr Severn in a minute (O MY FUCKING GOODNESS, you weren't
kidding!)

But first, are you telling me that you, my own father, jack off 4-6 times a
day and you were telling me to slow down???? Damn, daddio, you are all Man!
Those facts made my respect for you even greater.  I am wondering if I'm
going up be able to keep up with you upon your return lol. Daddy, I have a
strange feeling there's a lot about you that I don't know and that your
nastiness level even surpasses mine.

For instance, your viualizations are amazing. Your description of what
happened between you and Grandpa actually make me shake with holy
lust. Dad, please don't get mad but reading that in your office I grabbed
Grandpa's big heirloom Bible that all his ink scratches and preaching notes
are in and began rubbing my enlarged aching balls and sack over the
pages. It made me feel so connected with you guys. It was so special of a
moment. I leaked on many pages. But a weird thing happened, I turned to
Grandpas favorite chapter, Isaiah 61, and the pages were stuck together and
Pops, it sure seemed like old cum to me????? Please keep the stories coming
about how Grandpa trained you? Did you guys ever kiss? Make love?

Next, your package should arrive today and I couldn't be more ready. I have
used your jeans shorts so much here, and yet I'm sure they were not nearly
as sexy, manly and musky as what's coming.

Dad, also, thanks for the heads up about the secret lever-bolt on the door,
but what did you mean by your most "difficult cases"??? Would you trust me
with some of those stories and secrets. I give you my word that I will keep
everything confidential. I'm a PK, remember, we hear everything anyway lol.

Shit, mom just got home and is gonna want to catch up. I'll email again
later about my "session" with Mr. Severn. I am still unable to sit from it
if that tells you anything :).

Your horny little angel,

Brad

*****

Brad, My Beautiful Bad Boy,

Thank you for saying 'goodness' instead of 'god'. I like it that you are no
longer cursing. Yes, I am jacking off four to six times day, but I am an
adult with far more experience. You need to slow down and not simply focus
on the outcome, son. It's a hard lesson (pun intended) but an important
one. When you are old like me, you'll thank me for it.

Grandpa's Bible: Please do NOT come on grandpa's Bible. Yes, I know about
Isiah 61 and it makes it durned hard to preach those passages without his
notes to help. Yes, Daddy taught me to kiss, rather thoroughly,
actually. And yes, I think all of what we did was 'making love', though he
preferred the role of teacher far more than participant.

I do trust you, son, but there are some secrets a man of God must hold
sacred. I will tell you some stories, though, and make sure to change
enough detail you cannot guess the person being helped. I'll start with a
visualization, and explain the bolt.

Wednesday Visualization:

It's in my current office, but the desk is against the other outside wall,
more facing the doorway. It is very early in my ministry. A man we'll call
Bob has just arrived in my office dragging his 14-year-old son who is
crying and begging. He found the son, Harry, in the boy's tree fort,
masturbating to a small book/magazine called 'Hand Jobs, Daddy & Son
Bedtime Stories'. It is not visual, just the written word, so not as
damaging as most porn, but to say it is explicit is an understatement. It
is story after story about boys with fathers, uncles and other men.

Bob has given Harry such a thrashing that I can tell it hurts the boy just
to walk, and has brought him to me to 'straighten the kid out before he has
to throw him in the street.' It is actually sickening, to see a father
treat a son like that. Bob practically throws the poor boy into my desk and
turns, slamming the door behind him as he storms out.

The broken kid is sobbing hysterically on the floor and howls in fear when
I try to pull him into my arms. It takes forever to calm him and, just as I
do, The door pops open loudly and Deacon Landers is there. His voice was
not unlike Bob's, and Harry freaked, screaming, "NO! Don't let him hurt me
anymore! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'll never!" and trying to curl tighter into
my protective arms.

"Deacon! This boy is in pain and troubled. Please leave and lock the door
behind you. You did nothing wrong, Deacon," the man what white as a sheet
and looked about to cry at the reaction of the boy, "but let me tend this
lost lamb." He fled and I heard the deadbolt shoot home. It took another
ten minutes to get the boy to anything other than hysteria.

He finally stopped and yanked back, looking at me in a new horror. "I
didn't. I really didn't. I'm sorry, Don't hurt me!"

"Son, you're safe here. This is a house of God and no one will hurt you. I
am not going to judge you, Harry, relax." I petted his back until his tight
muscles started to sooth then picked him up. It was clear he'd just entered
his latest growth spurt as he was tall but light as a feather. I carried
him to the couch and sat with him.

"Now, no one can hurt you, Harry. No one, I swear to God Almighty, will
know what you say here today. It is between you and God, and I am here only
to help. Do you understand?" He nodded. "No, Harry, I need you to tell me
that you understand that you won't be hurt, won't be judged, won't be in
trouble, okay?"

"I-I understand."

It took an hour to get the story out of him. He desperately needed his
father's love, love that was only doted upon his sister. His only close
friend had moved away just as his need for a man or friend to teach him
exploded. And he found a magazine that hit every nasty fantasy, every
hidden desire, every forbidden need. And like THAT, it was stripped from
him.

I pumped him to define those fantasies, desires and needs. They emerged
slowly, reluctantly, but I'm a rather persuasive man. And yes, but most
measures, they would far surpass mere depravity. But for a boy left to his
own devices and desires in this time of complete and hopeless change? This
was laid at the feet of the father.

>> Brad, do you now see why I feel such guilt for doing the same with you?
Even that early in my ministry I knew what Bob had done was unspeakably
wrong, and yet a decade later I took exactly the same wicked path. I know
you forgive me, my wonderful son, but I may never forgive myself.

I moved us to my chair and sat him facing away, knowing that looking at my
face would force evasion and demurral. I talked to him of love, of God, of
the body God gave him and how God was changing him from boy to man. Of the
stew of God's chemicals, their magic coursing uncontrolled through his
veins. I talked of intimacy, with women, with men; of the myriad ways to
share's God's love as he grew to manhood.

I talked of the parts of a man and what each did, what each felt, what each
brought to God's grand music. And, as my father had taught me, I told him
of the ways to play a pale shadow of that music for himself, but perhaps
enough of the melody could remain to sustain him until he found his
wife. Lastly, I taught of the danger of pornography and how it would stifle
and dim and dilute the music. How the verbal book he'd found was the least
of those dangers, but it was better to let God provide the images.

He cried then, claiming that all of the images in his mind were from Satan,
evil and twisted and sick. I calmed him and asked if the images were of
violence and cruelty and lies and rape and trickery and pain? Those are
Satan's tools. I began to tell him a story, not unlike these
visualizations. I told a tale of introducing the wonders of the sexual
music of God's symphony, of a loving father and loving son
teaching/learning, touching/feeling, giving/accepting.

I sensed his need growing in his squirming and breath, and talked about
it. That is was not evil or sick, but natural. I had him pull himself from
his pants as I spoke of love, of Christian love, of God's love made
physical between a true Father and a faithful Son. Of each touch, each
sensation, each need-fulfilled. Harry soon reached the point he needed
most, the ultimate healing of the pain he'd been trapped within as he
exploded, whining and crying, across my desk. I whispered and coaxed,
praised him and, son, I healed him.

He was spent, shaking, crying tears now of joy and release, hugging me and
kissing my hand. He was still jubilant and I have just wiped the
most-obvious of his load from my desktop when the key turned and in walked
Miss Peakes to clean. Harry was facing me and I covered for him as his
reassembled himself. I had to wonder what his mother would think when she
found the trail of leaking cum still oozing into her son's shorts, but he
was able to leave easily and Miss Peakes was none the wiser. That, however,
was the day I called to find a handyman who could create that lever-bolt to
maintain the privacy of my most-sensitive works.

Wednesday Assignment:

Today is not a sexual assignment, my son, but a spiritual and emotional
one. Take the story above up to Deacon Lander's departure, except you are
the pastor dealing with Bob and Harry. Find me a different healing path,
son, your own path. What would you, Brad, have done for that poor,
tormented child? It must not be my path son, but your own.

In God's Love,
-Daddy

*****

[This message crossed in the æther with the previous one]

Dad, (continued)

Ok, I'm back. I hung out with mom for awhile. She really misses you. She
wanted to make sure I was ok and ready for all my finals and AP exams.

So on to Mr. Severn;

Dad, I had NO idea what to expect except for the little coaching you gave
me. I showed up right at 4:30pm at his office and he invited me in and
locked the door. He was VERY nervous which made me a little freaked out but
it was kind of exciting at the same time. He was sweating profusely (which
totally turned me on). His tie was already off and I noticed the fly to his
dress slacks was open. He asked me to sit down on his futon next to him. He
then asked me if I understood why I was there.

I told him yes, I was offering myself as a gift from God to help with a
specific need and that I was prepared to do ANYTHING that he asked. Dad, I
swear his eyes got huge and his pants tented up enormous immediately.  I
then quietly asked him what it was that he needed and he stuttered and
said: "a son to have sex with."

I acted very shy and a bit confused. I said, "Mr. Severn, if you will show
me what you want I will fulfill any need or desire as a Father that you
have, but you must teach me as I am wanting this but very inexperienced (ok
maybe a little white lie, I repent)."

He asked me to call him Father and if he could call me son. I of course
agreed and grinned innocently. He then stood up and asked me to begin
undressing him. Pops, as soon as I did it's like a atomic powered fucking
sex bomb went off. I have never seen someone so turned on in my life
(except myself lol).

He became the nastiest sexiest coach/commander/father. He made me strip to
my briefs and then grabbed me and picked me up in his huge arms and kissed
me for 20 minutes. I thought he was going to suck my face off lol. Wow!!!!
All the time he was moaning and dripping like crazy. I kept playing the shy
kid asking him if I was doing ok, and how I could please him more. I was a
"quick learn". He actually asked my permission if I would suck him. I
happily obliged after i made him show me the ropes. He was VERY satisfied
lol!

This went on in different ways for almost an hour, during the last bit of
that I could tell he was more and more interested in my tight asshole as he
started fingering me but seemed uncertain. I really encouraged him with him
I responded and moved. He seemed to like that a lot and that was all that
was needed. He grabbed me again and whispered in my ear that he wanted to
be inside me...real father to son. He even moaned out the word incest as he
held me. Dad, we were a wet slippery mess by this point.

Mr. Severn is a beautiful specimen, not nearly as great as you lol but just
different... He's thick and huge...muscles everywhere and the thickest mat
of hair I've ever seen. And dad, did you tell him I liked musky cocks,
because his was really ripe and hot! Also it was my first uncut dick. I
liked it a lot. It was odd, he kept looking at his wedding ring and the the
picture of his wife and girls in his desk and finally turned it
over. Strange.

Next thing I know, he's sitting in his big executive chair and lifts me
straight up like I weigh noting and slowly sits me down on his humongous
donkey cock. Dad, I thought i was bad. I was straddling him and facing him
because he kept saying he needed to see my face as we fucked. I have never
seen a look of such need, passion, lust and pain all at once...he was
moaning and saying the filthiest things by this point and just moved me up
and down on his pole as though it was nothing. I was definitely impressed.

All the time trying to act like this was new to me; in a way it was totally
fresh.  I actually felt like I was helping Mr Severn connect with something
spiritually and physically. Dad, can it really be that God was pleased with
this and was smiling on this?

MR. S. went on like a crazed animal in my ass for 20 more minutes building
and building. He finally exploded holding me tightly. And you know what the
weirdest part was, as soon as he came down from his "high", he started
sobbing, I mean hard and didn't stop. He was inside me the whole time and
just held me so tight and kissed my neck and just kept whispering thank
you, thank you.

Dad, is this what it's like to help people and let sex be about giving? It
was incredible, by the way I came 3 times during that session. Damn. We got
dressed and he drove me home. Very quiet, but peaceful. He said he would
talk to you about seeing me again. He shook my hand goodbye getting out of
the car. So funny!

Hope I made you proud!

Your serving son,

Brad

*****

My Beloved Son,

You will not understand this for years to come, son, but you have the soul
of a healer. I got Mr Severn's meek and awestruck and desperately-worried
reply just before yours. I could *see* the tears even on the
ones-and-zeroes of his electronic missive. You did more than 'well', my
son, you did God's Work in a profound and wondrous way. I'll take up that
theme in a minute, but I want to give you some excerpts from Mr Severn's
letter (PS: He's not the best typist and not exactly top in his English
class all those years ago; also we need to take the shift key off his
computer).

"Please God and Pastor Orson, forgive Me but I am happier now than in a
near two decade of Married Live. This is Truly Gods Love. I am terrified
Pastor, that it was Your Son...

"...but he WASNT your son, I sware by my faith. For those ours he was MY
Son, the Son I never had and always needed. When He called me Father He
BECAME my Son, by Gods True Grace!"

"I was able to hide it--" apparently, he DID hide it from you which
surprises me; he is a wonderful man but not the sharpest knife in the
drawer "--but I came in My shorts the second My Son touched Me. I almost
cried, but it made Me even Hotter for this Gift from God."

"I spent an our at least in a kiss as My Son begged Me to let Him do
more. I wept silently, letting My tears mix with My Son's spit..."

"I was so worked up about the meting that I forget to shower this morning
and was Really Rank and was terrified My Son would refuse and be
Disgusted. But he MOANED and licked and snuffed and I almost dyed!"

"He 'made' me teach Him to Suck Dick, but when His lips touch My cock, I
almost dyed from pleasure. My knees shook like water and I near fell."

"Woman dont understand the work it takes to make muscles, but My Son
worshiped them and made Me feel so Proud!"

"I am so so so sorry Pastor, but His ass was so perfect and Pleas, dont be
mad I, fucked Him like He was mine and He screamed in joy. It was like He
never felt pain and had done it for years and I know that's not true and I
hurt Him but I couldnt Pastor, could not stop and He cussed like Sailor and
moaned and screamed and begged and it was More than Heaven. I am sorry I
hurt Him Pastor and will take Your punishment. You can kill Me Pastor when
you gets back and I wont care."

"My Son came and came and came as We Made Love. It made Me so Proud of Him
and of Me and of what We had Together."

"I cried so hard and Thanked God over and over and over as He sat their
wiggling and squirming on My manhood after We was done."

"I cried for ours Pastor, when I dropped My Son off at Your house and He
suddenly became Your Son again and I was alone again. It was Like God gave
me a loan of a Son but took Him back and it hurt so much. But those few
ours Pastor, were the best of My Whole Life."

"Pastor help Me. What am I gonna do without My Son, a real one or a Gift
from God? I keep Crying and dont know what to Do. Do I have to ""You Know""
to memories Forever or is there some Grace that might Help Me? Pleas write
Me and tell Me what to do!"

Brad, my precious and precocious son, you did not 'succeed' for that is far
too stingy a word. You did God's work that day, son, you became for that
time God's Holy Instrument. You gave that man a gift direct from the Holy
Father in a way that I did not know was even possible.

You see, Brad, I expected you and Mr Sever to act out his needs. That's not
what happened. You BECAME his need son, to the depth of his understand, to
the depth of his immortal soul. You have done what I could not, son, and
what I don't think even Reverent Cadell could have managed. You BECAME the
vessel of salvation for a man who needed it more than anything in this
world.

To say that I am proud of you son is stupidly inadequate. You fulfil me,
Brad. You show me what a man should be. And you shame me, though you never
mean to. That I had been so blind to YOU , to the wonder you are all these
years, and refused you the very thing that would unlock you Shining Talent,
is a guilt I will carry to the End of Days.

Your Humble and Devoted
-Daddy

<eof>

More coming soon.

bradborris45@yahoo.com - Brad Borris, author

orson.cadell@gmail.com - Bear Pup, author