Latter Day DILF- Adult Friends

Latter Day DILF Chapter Four

Disclaimer (of sorts):

This story is made up, y'all. Oh sure, there are horny mormons out there; just like there are horny dudes everywhere. These particular horny mormons are mostly made up. This series is exploring the fantasies of a very sexy RM buddy of mine who would love to find a righteous daddy of his own. Thanks real-life Brodie for convincing me to give it a shot.

As for this chapter, this is definitely not the kind of thing that actually happens in an LDS meetinghouse every day, darn it. If I were to write about what really goes on `in the ward', it would be a challenging wank; even for me. And it doesn't take much to get me going.

Thanks to all the horny readers who have sent messages. It's honestly the only way I know folks are reading. While I have your attention (are you still reading?) I have two favors to ask: #1 Please be kind to each other. It takes so little effort; and the world is fucked up enough. Be kind. Please! #2 Please consider a donation to Nifty if you're enjoying this raunchy, blasphemous diversion. It doesn't have to be much. Unlike tithing, just give what you can afford.

http://donate.nifty.org/

Thanks guys, R

Never judge a book by its cover. You've got to keep an open mind or you might miss out on something awesome!

Listen to me! It's laughable that I'm trying to sound like an expert when I was a virgin a few days ago. Just hear me out, though. Even with my limited experience, I've learned that there are horned-up righteous brethren all around me representing all shapes, sizes and stations of life. So many priesthood holders with a secret are out there, looking to spread their DNA; or spread their legs to take someone else's. You'll never know what the other guy has to offer unless you give them a chance. You might find something amazing in the most unlikely places.

Don't get me wrong, when it comes to books and covers, I thought Brother Benton was fucking hot the first time I saw him; although the word fucking was not in my daily vocabulary back then. I lusted after him every time I saw him sitting in Sacrament Meeting with his wife. And then when he finally seduced me, it was better than I'd ever imagined. Same holds true for my old buddy, Wayne. He was handsome as fuck and built like a Greek god; and then, when I parted the rear flap in his G's and got a chance to breed his ass, there were sparks flying the entire time. So in both cases, an amazing cover led to an amazing guy underneath, plus some mind blowing sex.

On the flip side, I had the strongest orgasm of my life earlier tonight at the Stake Center; and it was from an unlikely source. I agreed to do as I was told out of a sense of obligation; bowing to authority, really. I thought I'd just grit my teeth and get it over with. Trust me on this one. Don't judge a book by it's cover!

But I'm getting ahead of myself. And since I'm feeling cocky, I'm still not going to start at the beginning. Just be patient. I'm not going to leave out a thing.

Everything was still in shadows, even after the blindfold came off. While my eyes had been covered, they had killed the overhead lights in Bishop Steale's office and turned on a small table lamp in the corner. I noticed there was a pair of garments folded and neatly draped over the lamp shade as an improvised dimmer. It worked surprisingly well. Since they were both still dressed, I assumed the g's they had used were mine. Fuck me! I suppose that's the least of my worries right now.

It looks like the swearing is going to become second nature to me; `cause my life is getting freakier by the minute. As I was waiting in the dark I had so many questions running through my mind. Now, I've just resigned myself to follow their counsel and let them do as they please. One thought lingers though: is the door to this bishop's office really locked. I had told my buddy Wayne that I would meet him here at the Stake Center to shoot some hoops with the gang after I got out of class. If they see my car out back when they leave, they'll probably come looking for me. What a sight they would find!

If that door is not locked, what they would find is a confused, newby-homo RM kneeling on the bishop's desk as naked as the day he was born. The piece of cloth they used to cover my eyes is loose around my neck right now; but another piece of cloth still binds my hands behind me. If I had been in this situation a few days ago, vulnerable and on display, my dick would be shrunk down to the size of a walnut. But now that my eyes are opened, literally and figuratively, the weirdness of the situation has me boned! In a big `fuck off' to all those early Church lessons on chastity and pride, my cock feels bigger than it ever has; and it is pointing straight up to the ceiling. I glance down to see that my foreskin is fully retracted and precum is dripping down my shaft and starting to form a tiny puddle below. On the desk beside me are some hand towels, a washcloth and a small basin.

This whole ordeal started maybe fifteen minutes ago. I had been asked to pray with Bishop Steale. I still don't have a clue what he said in that first prayer of the evening. I was so distracted that I didn't even try to focus. Because I was peeking as he prayed, I was mesmerized by his tightly muscled body that looked as though it would burst through his suit and starched white shirt at any minute. Of special interest to me was the oversized cock bulging through his garments and suit trousers. It looked huge to begin with; then it miraculously lengthened and hardened as he prayed. When he opened his eyes and caught me checking out his bulge, and then touched himself while staring into my eyes, he grew even harder. It was at that inopportune moment that President Lyman knocked and poked his white-haired head in the door; ancient, chubby, kind President Lyman.

Are you still wondering why the fuck I'm on this desk? I'm getting to that.

When the President came in, I instinctively got up from my chair to shake his hand. I was raised to be polite and to respect authority. It was only when I tried to stand that I realized my boner dilemma. Since my little soldier had gone from at ease' to atten-hut' while I was sitting, praying and lusting after the Bishop, the poor little guy was now bent and trapped in my g's and levi's as I stood. I didn't have the nerve to reach down and readjust. I quickly looked over to see the Bishop had already camouflaged his impressive erection by buttoning his suit jacket, leaving me the only one with my bulge on display. Hoping against hope that President Lyman wouldn't notice, I just ignored my stiffy and reached out my hand to shake.

We exchanged only a brief greeting before Bishop Steale suggested we begin and guided me behind his desk. He rolled his chair out of the way and they stood on either side of me and placed their hands on my head.

Prayer number two of the night was shorter. Having learned my lesson during the first one, I kept my eyes closed and tried to pay attention this time. President Lyman began by invoking his Priesthood authority. He then offered what was essentially an invitation to a Higher Order, before reminding me of distinct vows I had previously made; promising to safeguard the secret nature of solemn and sacred things.

After closing in the name of Jesus Christ, he put his arm around my shoulder and spoke in a friendly conversational tone; even though his words sounded like something that had been pre planned and rehearsed, like the temple dialogue maybe? It was also vague. I felt like he was asking me to agree to something before telling me what it entailed.

"Elder, in service to our Savior, and in turn, our fellow Brethren, we are often charged with accepting new roles through faith alone. Bishop Steale and I are asking you to trust us as you accept this calling. How say you?"

I was confused. What calling? A Higher Order? The words sounded familiar. I couldn't help but wonder who else had been called to this higher order: Brother Benton? Wayne? My Dad? So why me? And why now? In my case, it could only have been Wayne or Brother B who ratted me out, unless one of them had spoken to others in `the brotherhood' about me. Surely Wayne would have warned me if he knew this was going to happen tonight. Or does this all go back to the solemn and sacred spiel? Were they threatened at their own peril not to divulge? Actually, that might explain a lot. I thought back to how blindsided I had felt after my first temple visit. The church does like to spring surprises on a guy.

All the questions aside, I tried to sound calm when I answered the President's question. I knew I was going to say yes. I mean, come on! That's what they raise us to do, isn't it? A good Mormon lad would never turn down a calling. But what I really wanted to do was clarify my assignment. You see, I wanted nothing more right now than to strip Bishop Steale naked and see him in all his glory. In my mind, he was so fucking hot that I would let him do anything he wanted to me. After the things I had practiced on Brother Benton, I would be thrilled to lick the Bishop's ass crack, try and suck his huge cock, and even bend over and let him pound me senseless. I briefly wondered if he would let me kiss him.

Now President Lyman posed more of a problem. A hot LDS daddy is one thing; but a grandpa? He wasn't bad looking, just old. He had on one of those suits that old guys wear. It looked like an expensive suit; but there was enough fabric in the trousers to make two snug pairs like the Bishop was wearing. It was hard to tell just how fat he really was. Plus, Bishop Steale's big dick telegraphed through his tight clothes. All that was going on in the President's crotch was fold upon fold of cloth. I wondered if he could even get it up. With a little luck, maybe whatever ritual is coming up will just involve having the old dude watching the Bishop and me, while he dreams about his prowess way back when.

I wanted to agree, but with stipulations. But like I said, I was raised to follow the shepherd like a good little lamb. So I gave my consent.

Then, after telling me again to trust them, they calmly and ceremonially started to remove my clothing. Standing on either side of me, they unbuttoned and removed my shirt. Then as one of them supported me, the other bent down and raised my foot, unlacing and removing my shoe before tugging off my sock. After they repeated that with the other side, my Bishop slowly unbuckled my belt and pulled it through the loops of my jeans. I had been looking straight ahead throughout. Then Bishop Steale moved over to stand in front of me. He looked me in the eyes as he unbuttoned my jeans. The back of his hand brushed against my genitals through my g's as he pushed my levi's down; then he steadied me as I stepped out of them.

Standing between two clothed men in my underwear, I was glad I had put on clean garments after my post-Wayne shower. Although, since I obviously didn't think anything like this would be happening to me, I had thrown on my oldest and rattiest pair. Without looking down, I tried to remember how many holes were in them where I'd snagged the mesh material. I knew I should have retired them when I got home from my mission; but they were just so damn comfy. I waited for some sort of admonishment, but it never came. Instead, with the tips of his fingers, Bishop Steal pressed against each of the three markings on my top. President Lyman repeated the action. Then together they raised the top over my head as I lifted my hands up to assist. I held my breath, knowing the bottoms were next. They each touched the marking at the knee; and before I knew it, my g's were at my feet and I stepped clear of them. I thought it was odd when I was then directed to climb up, kneel on the desk in my naked state and close my eyes again in prayer. This would be the third prayer so far, if you're keeping track.

It was Bishop Steale's voice this time, intoning in a quiet voice how I had been chosen to serve; and had accepted. As he spoke, my arms were gently, but firmly pulled behind me; and bound loosely at the wrists. He admonished me to humble myself, as pressure was applied to the back of my head. When I bowed forward, he counseled me to learn to see through my spiritual eyes, that they may be opened to view wondrous things; before a strip of cloth was placed over my eyes and tied tight. I felt a hand pressing on each pec as he gave thanks for my valor and the heart of a `stripling warrior beating in my chest '. Both hands then moved down to cup my genitals, as he referred to a holy staff of honor and an endless reserve of godly seed. The new Higher Order was referenced several times; as was the need for discretion; and holding sacred things private, lest severe penalties be enforced. Finally, hands cupped each butt cheek as the Bishop acknowledged my willingness to serve. The brief ritual had felt symbolic and fairly non intrusive so far. So imagine my shock when a thick, lubricated finger pushed an inch into my rectum, as he closed the prayer by acknowledging my special calling as a receptacle for righteous men.

Holy fuck! A receptacle? For all righteous men? Or just these two?

The finger was withdrawn just as suddenly as it was introduced; and the third prayer was over. From behind me I heard President Lyman ask if I had any questions or concerns. What the fuck? Are you kidding me? I had a shitload of questions, but I was so thrown off guard by that finger up my ass that I'm afraid I used the wrong word when I tried to express my main concern.

In my defense, everything that had happened to me so far was so fucking unexpected. It would have been groundbreaking over the last twenty-four hours just to have lost my virginity. But I didn't get a chance to wade in and test the waters. I was chucked into the deep end. The two phenomenal experiences with Brother Benton, followed by the sex this afternoon with Wayne were more than most young virgins dream of. Now on top of all that, by including these two authority figures and this ceremonial religious element, my head felt like a pinball machine with all the thoughts pinging around in there. Then he has the balls to ask if I have any thoughts or concerns? I wanted to tell him I liked the part where they cupped my junk and blessed my 'rod' and my 'seed'; but I obviously wouldn't have said that to him. I was definitely more worried about what it meant to be a 'holy receptacle'. In an attempt to convey my willingness, while still letting them know how inexperienced I was in the ways of the flesh, I found myself saying,

"I do trust you, President. It's just that I've only been fucked one time so far and I....."

I was quickly cut off by the President, as he angrily barked out the Bishop's new name he'd shared with me earlier.

"Adam!"

Bishop Steale's response to his superior's indignation was to reprimand me with a quick slap across my face with his open palm, dislodging the blindfold in the process. Suddenly eye to eye with Bishop Steale again, there was too much happening to keep track of. At first he looked apologetic that he had been forced to mete out the punishment. But there was something in his eyes that gave him away. I think it might have been the first time he had allowed himself to strike someone like that. More precisely, to strike a naked someone like that. I'm pretty sure he was trying to suppress how much he had enjoyed it. I detected a hint of a smile. After he hit me, he looked down at my cock. Now I had been in various states of hardness as they had touched me, over the course of that last prayer. But when the Bishop glanced down, I quickly followed his eyes to see that after that slap, I was as hard as an iron bar; an iron bar with a single bead of cum escaping the piss slit. When he raised his eyes to mine again, his smile was apparent. It was a smile that said, 'I'm on to you. I see how much you liked that. I liked it, too'!

President Lyman offered an apology of sorts; but didn't back down from his initial stance.

"I'm sorry that had to happen, Brother Smith. May I remind you that this isn't one of those pornographic films you young Elders watch as you masturbate. This is a sacred matter. A holy rite. I never want to hear that sort of coarse language from your mouth again. In response to your concerns, we are well aware that you are just starting your journey. It is one of the main reasons you have been chosen. "

I stayed quiet, assuming they were not expecting an answer. Bishop Steale reached for the blindfold he had knocked off with the slap. He still had that knowing smirk on his face as he slid the cloth back into place. I'm pretty sure he wouldn't be so blatant if President Lyman could see his face. It excites me because it seemed conspiratorial. Like he had seen something in my eyes- or in my erection- that gave away my desire for him. My theory was about to be proven true.

"I'm sorry, President; when I filled the pitcher with water, I must have left it on the table just outside when I was unlocking the door to come back in. Would you mind getting it, please?"

President Lyman must have turned to move toward the door; because Bishop Steale roughly grabbed my cock and gave it a couple of rough strokes, before painfully tugging on my low-hanging balls. I was already hard; but holy shit did I get harder. He let go and grabbed my right nipple and twisted it, just as his other hand covered my mouth to prevent me from making a sound. Then as I heard the door open and close again, he whispered right up against my ear.

"You just wait! That ass is mine, Elder!!"

So that's where I am now. Tied and with the blindfolded back in place. Hard and leaking. I don't dare speak; but I nod my head slightly, hoping to signal my willingness to serve Bishop Steale anytime he chooses.

I hear water being poured into the basin at my side. I don't know which of them brings the damp washcloth to my face. The blindfold is raised just long enough for a gentle dab on each closed eye, before wiping it across my lips. I hear them dip the cloth in the basin again. Then it is rubbed vigorously on both sides of my chest and briefly at my navel. The washing of my genitals is more involved. I even feel one of them tenderly retract my foreskin and blot up all the precum, before my shaft and balls are thoroughly washed. As one of them carefully cleans my butt crack and anus, the other begins to massage my cock and balls with some kind of fragrant oil. I then feel them pour the oil over my freshly cleansed ass.

I assume I know what is next when I feel a finger, and then two, push the oil inside my hole. Still kneeling on the desk, and sitting back on my heels; they slide me backwards until I am closer to the edge of the desk. The washing and anointing has been eerily relaxing. I'm ready.

It starts so gently. I'm not even sure if it's a cock pressing against my oiled ass at first. Maybe a finger? The tip feels small and rounded; then as it is slowly enters it rapidly increases in girth. Is it some kind of sex toy? It seems too conical to be someone's anatomy. I'm stretched wide before I have my answer; it is definitely a cock. I decide it must be President Lyman when I feel his belly against my lower back as he hits bottom. His arms encircle me and he hugs me firmly from behind as he waits for me to adjust to his size. Even though the blindfold is playing tricks with my mind, I know that Bishop Steale is considerably taller; and his stomach is much flatter. I'm still eager to see what is happening; but so far the elderly leader's wide cock feels fucking awesome in me.

Then he grips tighter around my chest and pulls me back until my toes slip off the edge of the desk. By moving my ass back, he has better access and he starts to move inside me. I desperately want to see what the old guy is working with. It feels so narrow at the head before it flares out. Now each time he bottoms out in me it's a challenge. I'm picturing a huge cone in my mind, but one with an upward curve. Regardless of what it might look like, it feels fucking amazing. Because of that wicked curve, it's dragging against my prostate on each stroke. I'd let this old geezer rail my hairy ass as long as he wants. If these two Priesthood brethren could hear the words I'm thinking in my head, I'd be getting slapped right and left. I kind of want to swear out loud, to see if it would make the Bishop discipline me again. I feel my prick pulse just imagining it.

Great! Now all I can think about is Bishop Steale's big prick again. The President has me opened so wide, I shouldn't have any problem taking the Bishop next. Don't get me wrong, I'm not ready for this first fuck to be over yet. He is finding nerve endings in my ass I didn't know were there. But after he dumps that holy seed in me, I know I'll be lubed and ready for round two if that is what's on the agenda.

They've both been silent since the cleaning ritual. I'm relieved when President Lyman begins to groan with his face buried in the crook of my neck. I've been trying hard to suppress my own moans. It's comical that I'm getting royally fucked, but I'm not sure if I'm allowed to let on how good it feels. Am I even supposed to be enjoying this? Or am I supposedly making some kind of sacrifice? They didn't tell me the rules when they anointed me as a `receptacle'. But it makes it even hotter, hearing him groan each time he shoves his full length into me.

Not only am I enjoying the fuck out of it, I almost shoot when the President starts to speak quietly, right up next to my ear. It sounds like he's trying to sound calm; but I can hear excitement in his voice.

"We have set you apart to be of service, Elder. It's imperative that you be obedient and respect the needs of your Priesthood brethren."

"I understand, sir. But it feels good, too. Is it okay to show I'm enjoying it?"

In the pause before he answers, he begins to fuck me to harder. The gentleness is fading.

"It's acceptable, as long as you realize your pleasure is secondary. I was careful with the initial penetration, because I didn't want to hurt you on your first time out. I don't want this to be an assignment that you dread. When I use you, I want it to lift up your spirit. Just know that some of the other brethren won't really care about your enjoyment. All that will be important is that their needs are met, whether it hurts you or not."

To emphasize his point, he moves one of his hands to my throat and uses it to restrain me as he makes several hard thrusts. I don't know how much longer he can last. His breathing is heavier and more labored. I'm so eager to see what's happening that I venture another question.

"Do my eyes have to be covered? No disrespect, but is it necessary?"

"It was required for your initiatory penetration; but we can remove it now, if you'd like. So long as you understand that some of the righteous men who seek out your service may insist on it. It is possible that you might never know their identity; even though they will use you in the most intimate of ways. It will be at their discretion when you submit to their authority; or at the discretion of the elder priesthood holder who is presiding, if there are more than two of you present."

President Lyman had stopped moving inside of me as he spoke. His hand was still at my throat, but just resting there without applying pressure. His other arm was still around my waist, holding me tight against him. His cock remained lodged deep inside my ass. I could feel it throb. He moaned in my ear as he hugged me firmly. Then he relaxed his hips and slowly withdrew from me, as the cloth over my eyes was untied. The Bishop was standing directly in front of me on the other side of the desk, the blindfold in his hand. I was grateful for the dim light, but my eyes still needed to adjust.

The view was definitely worth the wait. Bishop Steale was watching me. He didn't break eye contact as he reverently touched the blindfold to his lips, folded it and placed it on the desk. Then he placed both hands on his hips like he was presenting himself for inspection. He had removed his suit jacket; his trousers were at his ankles. Still in his white shirt and tie, the long shirt tails blocked the rest of my view; but I was amazed how tight his g's fit around his solid thighs.

As I felt President Lyman untie my wrists, the Bishop smirked as he slid one hand up under his shirt and garments to scratch at, and expose, his toned stomach; lifting his shirt up and out of the way in the process. While I can't deny that the Bishop was blessed with a very big dick, it isn't as monstrous or freakish as I'd imagined. The waistband of his garment bottoms is tucked under a set of impressive, shaved balls. His cock appears to be fairly hard; but rather than stick straight out, it points down slightly due to its sheer size and weight. The overall picture is one of perfection. I want to reach over the desk, but I'm still fuzzy on the rules here. I'm brought back to reality by President Lyman's voice.

"Brother Smith, please get down and we'll make you more comfortable for the completion of your offering. Your Bishop is a fine example of someone who was blessed with good genetics and has worked tirelessly to perfect his body. Although it appears it's time for he and I to have another one of our chats about the virtue of humility."

If I expect Bishop Steale to be embarrassed by the President's remark, I underestimate his ego. Gripping his huge cock with both hands, he laps up the praise and disregards the mild rebuke.

Once I'm back on my feet, President Lyman carefully spreads out his suit jacket on the desk and has me lie on it on my back. Unlike the Bishop, he has removed his tie and unbuttoned his white shirt, though his trousers are similarly at his ankles. He has pulled the front of his garment top up and over his head; exposing his torso. I can see how I was fooled by the senior High Priest's manner of dress. Why did I think he was fat? He has a belly, but not much bigger than Brother Benton. What he does have is a powerful barrel chest covered in a swirl of salt and pepper fur. Otherwise, he is naturally smooth until his pubic hair begins. He has his hand over his genitals, as he steps up between my legs.

"Bishop Steale, please join me for the final stage of Brother Smith's initiatory rite. Elder, as you will soon see, even though two High Priests must be present and offer their seed as you are set apart; only the senior member is allowed penetration. Rest assured that you will be called to attend to your Bishop's physical needs in the near future in a different setting. For now, we are ordained to work in tandem; symbolizing the Brotherhood you have been called to join."

Bishop Steale takes his place behind President Lyman. For a brief second, I imagine he is going to fuck him as he fucks me. Instead, he presses tight against his superior, but then reaches his arms around him. He grips the President's broad chest. President Lyman moves his hands away from his own genitals and massages my cock as it rapidly refills with blood. The Bishop then drops his hands down and firmly grips the President's cock that has already given me so much pleasure. As he strokes it, he makes a show of presenting him to me. If I hadn't already felt it deep in my guts, I wouldn't believe it. His cock is easily as long as the Bishop's, and it is so wide at the base that the fingers can't reach around it. At the risk of another slap for my blasphemy, as my hole eagerly waits to feel that monster again, the only comparison that comes to my mind is a rhino's horn. So fucking wide and long and tapered; it could destroy an ass, if he fucked in anger. Now I can see how his size, along with that crazy upward curve, made it possible for him to hit spots inside me that I didn't know I had.

President Lyman moans as Bishop Steale expertly strokes to get him fully hard. Then the Bishop nudges him forward until the narrow pointed tip of that awesome cock is just touching my hole. Bishop Steale steps around beside us. He uses both hands to spread my butt cheeks, exposing my puffy, well-used hole. Then that mutant cock spears deep into my ass in one thrust; and Bishop Steale starts frantically jerking on his own huge dick. President Lyman has his second wind now. He starts to hammer into me. I haven't touched my cock but I can feel my load churning up from my balls. The Bishop is the first to anoint me. He aims his cock head at my stretched ass ring; right at the point where President Lyman and I are joined. My own cock starts to spray all over my chest and belly as I feel Bishop Steale begin to blast! His cum floods my cunt as the President's huge cock fucks it it in deeper with each thrust. It creates a sea of froth, bubbling out and coating the cock that will soon breed me. The Bishop struggles to speak in a whisper as his orgasm subsides.

"In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, we anoint and consecrate this vessel."

Before he can finish praying, President Lyman starts to shudder. His eyes flutter as he unleashes wave after wave of cum into the depths of my guts. As he orgasm continues, he falls forward and rests his weight on me. I can feel his heart pounding against my chest. Then, barely audible above the deep growl escaping from his throat, I can just make out his benedictory, `Amen'.

Not quite thirty-six hours later, there's a tap at my door. Now I live in an apartment over my parent's garage, so not many folks come knocking. Mom left for work an hour ago and I just saw my Dad out the window as he headed out for an early run. I throw some sweats on over my g's before I open the door.

Fuck me! It's Wade Packer. He's a close friend of the family and has lived in the ward my whole life. You'd never guess by looking at him that he'd have kids my age; but his son Troy and I grew up together. I've had the hots for him since long before I met Brother Benton.

"Hey! Good to see you, Brother Packer! What can I do for you?"

I don't think I've ever seen him look so serious. He looks me in the eyes.

"I seek a son of Hellman."

"No fucking way!"

"Brodie!"

"I'm so sorry, Brother Packer. It's just that you're the first one to use the secret phrase on me."

"Nah! I'm just fucking with you. You can talk as dirty as you want; but you can drop the Brother Packer crap. Might as well call me Wade, son; cause I'm here to drop a three day load up your ass!"

By the time he's finished talking, his garments and gray athletic shorts are down to his thighs; and he's closed the distance between us to shove his hand down the back of my sweats. His finger digs aggressively at my hole; and he leans in to kiss me. I take his thick cock in my hand and give it a stroke. I reluctantly interrupt the kiss to bend down and take his dick into my mouth. I figure I better get it wet, because I keep forgetting to buy lube.

"Fuck yeah, son! Looks like we've got a hungry cocksucker on our hands. But just so you know, I'm not gonna settle for a blow job. I need to breed after the morning I've had."

He's not getting any complaints from me. I push my sweats and g's down and bend over my desk. I hear him spit; then feel it running down my crack. He shoves two fingers in me this time, before he offers me his proposition.

"Since you're sworn to secrecy, I would fucking love it if want to plug my ass, too. You'd have to go first, though."

"Oh hell yes! I've fantasized about you for years, Wade."

We hurriedly change places. I'm just about to warn him that I don't have any lube, when my finger slides all the way in to the last knuckle. My cock throbs as I pull my finger out just far enough to confirm my suspicions.

"Oh fuck, Brother Packer! You already took a load this morning? That is so fucking hot!"

"I thought you'd like that. I cleaned out good beforehand, if you want to have a taste."

On my knees, I pull his cheeks apart. His hole is still slightly red and swollen. Just then a pearl of cum appears and clings to the lips of his ass.

"Holy fuck! Who was it?"

"Just taste it, son. Lick up that spunk and then pound your own load into me. Then after I'm finished breeding your hairy cunt, I'll take ya to breakfast and we can catch up!"

Hey! I saw you jerking off just now! Wipe down your electronic device and send me an email. It'll only take 3 minutes and it'll motivate me to write something else.

I'd especially love feedback from LDS dudes; past and present. What did I miss? What rang true?