Date: Sat, 16 Apr 2016 01:03:54 +0000 From: J. W. Subject: Baba's Prayer, Part 5 DISCLAIMER: This story is a work of fiction and contains descriptions of explicit sexual acts between a father and a son. If this type of content offends you or you are under the age of 18 do not read it. Author's Note: This story is the property of the author. It can be downloaded for personal reading pleasure or sending to a friend, but if you wish to re-post them at your own site, please contact the author for permission. If it is illegal to read such material where you live or if you find the topic distasteful the please leave now. Copyright 2015 JayWise1972, All rights reserved. Please contact me at JayWise1972@gmail.com if you like. I welcome all feedback. Also, please donate to Nifty if you can! Sites like these need champions. We don't know how lucky we are to be able to access gay erotica this easily. * * * Part 5: Isha'a is my favorite time of the day. The prayer at Isha'a begins when the red light has gone from the western sky, just before midnight; approximately halfway between night and dawn. It is also the time when Baba is most devout. Tonight he has unrolled his prayer rug next to my bed. Moonbeams stream through the large window and the warm desert breeze licks at the gossamer curtains, making them ripple and shimmer in the silvery light. The day was extremely hot, and even now the heat seeps into my room. Sweat gleams upon Baba as his belly rubs my back. His thick cock is deep within me, as it often is at this time of night. I turn my head and look up at him in the muted half-light. My father's eyes are wide open and he stares down at me, the dark brown of them burning with the intensity of his faith and raw heat of lust. One thick, wide pectoral muscle rubs against the soft skin of my cheek and I see moonlight reflected in the wetness of his flexing bicep. My other cheek is flat upon the prayer mat, but I am on my knees, the smoothness of my ass high in the air as Baba drives in and out, in and out in time with his breath, in time with the whispered words of his prayer. I could never imagine doing anything else, or listening to holy prayers in any other way. Baba grunts, and his thrusting stops, his hips spasming as he buries himself to the hilt, thrusting that list inch in sharp, rhythmic punctuations. I feel the big shaft inside of me pulsing. Baba is breeding me again. His breath is hot and humid against the top of my head. But I know the night is only beginning. It is Isha'a. I spread my legs wider, my lower back arching downward, and for the first time, I feel the air from the window upon that patch of skin, still wet from Baba's sweaty groin and flat belly. He begins to move again. He is still hard as steel and the walls of my silken boy hole cling to every ripple, every vein as he pulls back and pushes in, beginning the cycle again. His prayer never stops, and I am being fucked once more. Baba has unleashed the torrent of his potent cream inside of me two times already, his desire fueled by the hot desert wind and a lifetime of longing for the forbidden. If I were Allah, I would be proud to see him like this, in all of his raw, sexual power; all his masculine potency, taking his pleasure within the fruit of his own virile loins. His hand covers my mouth and he leans down, his hips continuing their inexorable rise and fall. His lips touch my left ear and I feel his hot tongue slither inside. This always drives me wild... the sensations are beyond description. I moan into his fingers, squirming under him, which is, naturally, exactly what he wishes me to do. "Good boy," he growls in the language of our ancestors. "My beautiful boy, servant to his baba, as I served my own, and he served his before that. So it has been in our family from the beginning, and so it will be for generations to come. Allah is great. See how he watches us. See the pleasure he takes in our love." His words are liquid, smooth, but broken occasionally by soft moans and gasps as the hotness of my slippery hole works its magic on his massive organ. Baba touches places inside of me that I don't remember him reaching before this night. Perhaps it is the position, his favorite. Perhaps his desire has made him grow even thicker and longer. My bottom rises to meet his thrusts and he growls in approval. "Yes, Sabbi. take Baba's cock. I will breed you again. Perhaps all night. Would you like that?" What else would I say? "Yes, Baba," I moan between his deep inward plunges. "I never want you to stop. Not until Allah wills it." Baba hisses with pleasure, his movements quickening again as he empties another load of his seed inside me. There is so much of it now that it leaks from around the tight ring of my hole to run in rivulets down smoothness of my balls and cock. My back arches against him and I cry out through his thick fingers, the wide, flaring head inside of me forcing the orgasm out of me. I shudder and twist in Baba's grasp, but he is strong enough to hold me fast. The white cream of my boyhood spurts downward to land upon the prayer mat, joining the hundreds of other discolorations from our previous prayers. I feel his groin against my upturned ass as he drives himself in as deeply as he is able, intensifying the spasms of ecstasy that rack my slender body. I nearly collapse beneath Baba's muscular body, but my knees manage to hold us both in place. Baba's big cock pulses inside of me slowly, as if each shrinking gush of his semen matches his slowing heartbeat. We are both drenched in sweat but, unlike so many nights before, we are not yet ready to end the prayer. Baba settles upon my back, the meaty bulk of his chest against my shoulder blades. He lets out a long, slow breath. "I am ready, Sabbi," he intones. "Allah is pleased. You have taken Baba's cream, but now he will give you the gift you deserve. Gold... precious gold for Sabbi's insides. To fill you with the radiance of the grand mosque itself. I feel the heat, then. The searing liquid from deep inside my father's body traveling along the long, thick tube and filling me slowly, steadily, inevitably, with Baba's salty sweetness. No father and son could be closer than this, than for one to feel the expansion of his insides by the other, than to share the hot bubbling communion fed from father to son, an offering both to Allah and to each other. On and on, Baba voids himself inside me. I feel my belly and guts swell, until I feel nearly pregnant with it. Baba reaches around as his flow slows to a small stream, then a trickle, then droplets as his ass clenches and he tries to squeeze every remaining drop into the hotness of my deep asshole. He rubs my belly gently, whispering in my year. "You see? Baba has made you pregnant, Sabbi. He has put his offspring deep inside you. There they will stay. Treasure what I have given you, my son. It is rare that a father may breed his son in the light of Allah's love. I nod and lay my head upon the carpet. I am filled to the utmost, and soon I will feel the aching need to relieve myself . but first, Baba and I both know what must happen. One last time, the massive piston within me begins to move. My father draws forth his huge cock, leaving the wide head inside me lest all that he has given me burst forth onto the floor. When he slides back in, I feel the liquid inside making room for him, his thick plunger pushing the golden mixture of cum and piss deeper into my innards. I hear the wet squishing sound with each thrust. In the quiet of the moonlit room, we fuck, father atop son, son spread wide and subservient beneath his baba's power and authority. Minutes go back. Perhaps hours. We lose ourselves in the sacredness of this time. Baba' head rises and he looks to the ceiling, his breath coming in ragged gasps as his hips slap my buttocks with the sounds of exploding firecrackers. But there are no neighbors, no prying eyes to suspect what goes on here. Baba begins crying out in time with his thrusts, each a guttural, hoarse bark, their frequency increasing until his midsection is a blur in the half-light. He leans down, wrapping one arm around my midsection as he pounds harder and harder, and we begin to move off the prayer mat. It does not matter. His thrusts drive me forward until my head is upon the soft, low mattress of my bed. Baba's other hand grips my right shoulder with the strength of iron and he begins to pray in earnest, his words garbled and breathless as he nears his climax. And climax Baba mightily does. With a harsh roar he pins my ass to the floor and my torso to the low bed frame and unloads a final thick load inside me. The raw power of this fuck sends me other the edge and I experience my second orgasm of the night, and Baba his fourth. Baba knows he cannot leave me like this, however. Nor would he ever wish to. He has given me his gift, and I have given him mine. Now all must be brought back to equilibrium. Sliding the massive hose out of my well-used ass, Baba spreads my legs and pushes me up onto the bed, so that my lower half hangs over its edge. Then I feel his beard against my reddened buttocks and his lips and tongue against my ravaged hole. He sucks, and I know what I must do. I relax my body and return to him that which he has put inside of me. Baba gulps and gulps, slurping and licking as gout after gout of his own thick cum, mixed with his piss and bits of the mid-day meal fill his mouth and belly. He drinks and eats from me greedily, and I feed him as he enjoys doing to me. On these rare nights, he tasks himself with pleasuring me this way. It is as if he wishes to set aside his authority, his position for a time and become the boy himself; become my Sabbi. When he is like this, I do what he loves most. "Mmmmm.. Yes, Baba. You are Sabbi now. Drink and eat from me. Allah wills it. Eat from your boy's ass as you did from your Baba long ago." Baba moans and I hear and feel him swallowing as the mixture thickens upon his tongue. His moans are muffled as I fill his mouth. "Ahhh, Baba... Eat from your Sabbi. Finish it all. You mustn't spill it. It is an offering to Allah, and Allah's prophet, peace be upon him." Only when I am completely empty and Baba has licked my hole clean do we both slump into each other's arms. Minutes pass as we gather what remaining strength we possess. Baba kisses my forehead. "Good night, Sabbi." "Good night, Baba. I love you." I sleep the sleep of angels ***