Old Saint Nick
By Bald Hairy Man e-mail bldhrymn@aol.com or bldhrymn@yahoo.com
This is an adult story intended for adults. It is a fantasy, so I again remind you that have done away with the requirements of safe sex, and have included no gestures toward common sense either. These are all new stories. Please e-mail me if you have any suggestions or comments.
Abbot Frederic died badly. I had served him for 30 years and expected his death would be heralded by choirs of angels descending from heaven. He was the strictest, most upright man I ever knew and he had been the leader of the Abbey of St. Nicholas for 25 years.
The Abbot wanted to be pure, untouched by human sin. He knew the world was designed to degrade. Pleasure was the lure which made men leave the straight and narrow path of righteousness and turn to sin. At the Abbey we successfully avoided pleasure. The food was minimal, the heat all but nonexistent. We spent our days praying for the welfare of our benefactor, the industrialist Albert DeLisle. DeLisle had died several years earlier, but he left the Abbey some money, so we continued the prayers for his soul.
We lived in small cells and rarely talked. Abbot Frederic's approach didn't encourage growth in our order, so by the time he died there were only me and one other monk, Richard, and two novices, Sean and Timothy. I was the oldest. I was 50 but looked much older because of my big white beard.
I expected a crowd at the Abbot's funeral, but no one came who didn't need to come. No one from his family appeared; no former members of the order or fellow priests came. The Father Superior of the order came and made me the Abbott.
That stunned me. I was little more than a servant to Frederic. It hadn't occurred to me I would become his replacement. The Father Superior later told me, I was the only one available.
We spent the time between Frederic's death and his burial in continual prayer. When his body was covered with earth, we returned to the Abbey. I felt lost. We ate a small meal and went to bed. The Abbot slept in the Abbot's quarters, the monks in theirs and the novices in a separate space. Since there were only four of us, I suggested we all sleep in the Abbot's quarters. There was more than enough space. It seemed silly to be spread throughout the large building.
I didn't want to sleep in the former Abbot's bed, so I slept in one of the guest rooms. I had been asleep when I heard a cry. Getting up, I heard sobbing from one of the bedrooms. It was Brother Timothy, one of the novices, crying in his bed. I held him and comforted him. Timothy was lost without the Abbot and was frightened. I got into the bed with him and he calmed down.
Timothy calmed down but I didn't. I had strange dreams. I saw Abbot Frederic begging St. Peter to let him in. The Abbot was listing all his virtues, all of the hardships he subjected himself to.
"But you never lived!" St. Peter replied. "The world was made filled with beauty and loveliness. Everywhere there is the possibility of pleasure, a good meal, the companionship of friends. You took part in none of this." The argument went on and on.
I had joined the order at 16 and had never questioned the teachings of the Abbot. Everything I dreamed was new to me. At first I almost expected the Abbot to win, to convince St. Peter that he knew the real way. Peter was not persuaded. I woke at dawn as usual, went to the thermostat and turned up the heat. I also turned on the water heater again. We had a cook, I told her to get some food, eggs, bacon muffins and juice. We would have a big breakfast.
That morning the Abbey's accountant came to tell me about the financial condition of the abbey. We had lived extremely frugally. To say I was shocked at his report doesn't come close to expressing the surprise I felt when he told me. The Abby had an endowment of some $50,000,000.00 which was growing at a rate of $2,500,000.00 to $4,000,000.00 a year.
"It is very well managed," he said. "You're expenses here are small."
"That was like the Abbot, scrimping to give to the poor," I said. It was hard to talk, my head was still reeling.
"Abbot John, you don't understand, there were no gifts," the accountant said.
"No gifts? No benefices?"
"None. Abbot Frederick felt it gave the poor an inflated sense of their importance." the accountant replied. "To tell you the truth, I was worried the IRS might get after us some day."
After he left, I went to the chapel and thought. What had been going on in Abbot Frederick's mind? What was his plan? It defeated me.
We had a rule to bathe only once a week, but I felt a long hot shower would be good for me. It might clear my head. The Abby was well provided for with bath tubs, massive, claw footed things, but most no longer worked because the pipes had gone bad. We had a shower room in the basement of the Monks' Quarters with had been used by the gym for a boys' school we had operated decades earlier.
It still functioned because the grounds crew showered there. Abbot Frederick hired South American immigrants because they were cheap, but he didn't like the smell of day laborers. It was in good repair since an article in the paper ran photographs of it in an article on migrant labor. Abbot Frederick all but rebuilt it, so it would be in good condition for a visit of the Superior.
I ran into Bother Richard and told him of my plan. It seems odd, but I felt as if I was a school boy being bad. Although taking a shower would have pleased my mother, I felt the Abbot would have disapproved.
"I'd love a shower," he said. "It seems like such a luxury." I asked him if he wanted to join me. He said yeas and we went to the basement and entered the room. I flipped on the lights and the space was bright and cheerful. There was a locker room, drying area and the shower space itself. One of the lockers still carried the label "Coach" from the days the room was used by the school. I took that one. On the other side was an "Assistant Coach" locker. I told Richard to take that one. He giggled. He wasn't ever an athletic man and the thought amused him.
"Do you think we should get naked?" he asked, uncertain of what to do.
"I don't see there is any way to take a shower and not get naked," I replied, stating the obvious. We began to undress. I had my robe off when Sean and Timothy appeared.
"We wondered where you were," Sean said. "What are you doing?"
"We're going to try out the showers," I said. "It seems a shame to have all of this and not use it."
"The Abbot wouldn't like it," Timothy said.
"I am the Abbot now," I said with a decisive edge in my voice. "He is dead and I am the Abbot."
Sean looked at me as I took my clothes off. "Can we join you?" he asked in a whisper.
"Of course, Cleanliness is next to Godliness," I replied. "You take the "Team Captain" locker. If you want to join us, Timothy, take the "Trainer" space." Both of the novices began to strip.
We were a pale and anaemic looking group. I'm about 5-10 and 185 pounds. My hair turned white at 35. Bald, I have a lot more hair below my ears than above. When I was younger, I was embarrassed at my hairy body, it was hairy even at 16. No one had seen it since.
Sean was tall and thin, with a peaches and cream, Irish complection. His hair was red and thick. Richard was short with black hair and a very hairy body. He was Italian and with olive akin tones. He almost looked as if he had a tan. Timothy was pale and bland. He was timid with mouse brown hair and some chest hair.
I entered the shower first and got the water going. The water heater was near by and the hot water felt wonderful. It had been years since I had felt anything more than lukewarm water. It seemed like the ultimate luxury to feel the warmth.
"This is a nice room," Richard commented. "I've never done anything but look in."
"I've never been in here, before." Sean said. I was soaping up. "It seems nice compared to the bath rooms upstairs." Timothy was huddled in the corner, facing the wall. I assumed he was very shy and didn't want us to see his privates.
When I was done, I turned off the water and went to the drying room. The other men followed. When Timothy entered, I saw he had a large cock and was partially erect. He saw that I had seen and turned bright red.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I can't help it. It just happened."
"It's nothing to worry about," I said. "It happens to the best of us."
"If I had what you have, I sure wouldn't be sorry," Richard said.
"What do you mean?" Timothy asked.
"Most men like to have a big cock." Richard replied. Tim didn't say anything else, but he looked as if he doubted Richard. Returning to the main level of the building, I told the cook to buy some more food. I felt like having a good dinner. I was still very unsure of what I had heard from the accountant. It seemed like a dream.
That night, I again heard Timothy crying and went to his room. I comforted him again and fell asleep beside him. This night my dreams were even stranger. St. Peter was chastising the Abbot for not being generous. "What about the poor?" the Saint asked. "The needy?"
"I have never had an impure thought, never committed fornication, never had sex!" Abbot Frederick whined.
"You never had a child, you never gave another soul pleasure with your body," the Saint complained.
"I have never sinned!"
"Loving another person isn't a sin, Sharing pleasure isn't a sin." The dream faded away after this declaration. Curiously, while the Saint remained clear in my memory, the Abbot began to fade. It was as if he were vanishing into space. I fell asleep and woke when Timothy cried out.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
"I had a dream," he said, "a dirty dream."
"I'm afraid that happens to everyone once and a while," I said. "Tell me what you dreamed." I shifted in the bed and accidently brushed against him, he was rock hard.
"I'm so sorry," Timothy whimpered.
"I wouldn't worry, that happens too," I said. "I've never been able to control that. I happens to me once and a while."
"I'm afraid I'll go to hell for this," he said. "It's a sin."
"If you go to hell for that, everyone will be in hell," I said. "I don't think you can go to hell for an erection."
"Abbot Frederick said . . ."
"Abbot Frederick is dead and he was wrong about that," I replied. "Timothy, I too have been having dreams."
"Dirty dreams?"
"Stranger than that, I'm afraid. The dreams were about the Abbot. He was being chastised by St. Peter for not enjoying life, for ignoring the beauty and pleasures the world has to offer," I said. "Frederick was strict, but not loving, neither giving nor taking pleasure in anyone or any thing."
"Surely he wasn't talking about . . . sex?" Timothy asked in a whisper.
"I think he may have been," I answered. I wasn't sure about that at all, but it made sense to me. What could be wrong with giving yourself or a friend pleasure? If do unto other as you would have them do unto you was the general rule, it was just fine. Timothy brushed against me. My cock was hard and I hadn't even realized it. He didn't withdraw his hand.
I was going to turn away, but instead, I stroked his cock. He stroked mine.
"That feels wonderful," I said. "Stroke it again." I reached into his pajamas and touched his cock. It was alike an electric shock of pleasure. He did the same and I knew he reacted the same way.
"Have you ever felt a naked body next to you in bed?" Timothy whispered.
"No, but I'd love to try it," I said. We fumbled around and took off our pajamas and were soon holding each other. It felt good, but truthfully, the best feeling was when our cocks touched and rubbed together. That was great.
Actually, it didn't feel great. Great didn't come close to feeling as good as Timothy's cock felt as it rubbed against my organ. Abbot Frederick talked about the ecstasy of religious feeling. I suddenly realized ecstasy wasn't created by austerity and deprivation, but from generously giving of oneself. Giving and sharing was at the heart of love, Devine and other wise.
I knew Timothy was feeling the same emotions as I was. I knew there was no way these feelings could be sinful or evil. Frederick had portrayed sex as between a victim and a victimizer. He didn't understand at all. Timothy and I were two, rather lonely and uncertain men, who had found a way to give each other pleasure. It was wonderful.
It got more wonderful. Timothy shifted and we lost contact for a movement. A second later I felt his tongue on my cock. A moment later his mouth enveloped my organ. I didn't know anything could feel that good. His warm lips and tongue explored my cock, making it tingle with new sensations. The feeling began to swell up and I pulled away. I didn't want it to end.
I didn't want to hurt his feelings and I thought he might think I wasn't enjoying it. I slipped down into the bed covers and licked timothy's cock. Turn about is fair play, I thought. I was just being polite.
Once my tongue made contact with his cock, I lost all interest in politeness. Having no real idea what a cock would taste like, it was all new to men and all good. I didn't even guess it would taste so good. Timothy was a leaker and I loved the cream which flowed from his cock.
Timothy rearranged himself, so he could suck me while I did him. My climax came unexpectedly, flooding his mouth without warning. I was getting ready to apologize to him when he shot off. I didn't know there could be so much cum stored in a man's balls. I sucked him until there wasn't a drop left. I must have dosed off. When I woke, Timothy was nursing on my cock like a babe at its mother's breast. For the first time since I had met him, Timothy was relaxed and at peace.
I spent most of the next day at the bank going through documents in a safety deposit box. I found Mr. DeLisle's will and the conditions of the bequests. While it stipulated we say prayers for his soul every day, there were no other requirements. I also found the deeds to numerous properties scattered across the city. I drove to look at them and discovered the Abbey of St. Nicholas was a slum lord. This I would change. Old St. Nick would be proud of us.
Christmas was five months away. I wondered how much I could change in that time.