This story involves explicit homosexual sex and Satanism in a Christian community in the Southern United States. Several things to be offended by. So if you are underage or object to reading about such things, be warned. Read no further.
If you are reading further, please contact me, let me know how you like the story and make suggestions. All your mail will be answered. macoutmann@yahoo.com.
Places in this story are real, but the characters and events are totally fictional.
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Copyright 2015 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.
SATAN'S WORK
by Macout Mann
Chapter 3
Harold told his parents that his shirt had been torn when he slipped and fell among some brambles. His mother said that he had to be more careful, clothes didn't grow on trees. Harold couldn't help but remember what Timothy had said. "We lie, cheat, steal, and covet."
Harold did feel dirty because of what had happened. He felt that he should confess, but he also remembered Timothy's threat. Most of all he ached to once again feel the thrill of orgasm. Over the next day or two the frequency and intensity of his hards-on exponentially increased. He finally was driven to start playing with himself. On the third day he brought himself to completion. It was glorious.
At church Sunday he realized that Timothy was staring. Once he even winked. As they were leaving, he saw Timothy grin at him as his hand casually brushed his crotch. Harold promised himself that he'd not beat off any more.
His resolve lasted not twenty-four hours. He spilled his essence in the tub while he was taking a bath.
On Tuesday he got up the courage to talk to his friend, Mose.
"I gotta ask you something," he began. "Do you beat off?"
Mose pretended not to understand. "What d'ya mean?"
"You know. Play with your peter."
Mose didn't know what to say. "Do you?" he asked.
Harold was silent for a minute, then "Uh, huh," he admitted. "I just started to, and I can't stop."
"My cousin from Chattanooga came to visit last summer. He got me into jacking off," Mose said. "I've never told anybody I was doing it. If the folks ever found out, Lord help me."
They swore each other to secrecy and had a mutual masturbation session. Harold didn't even know what to call what they were doing, but he still couldn't help wondering what Mose would do, if he happened to reach for his friend's pecker.
Thursday Harold went roaming in the woods for the first time since his encounter at Satan's Lair. He had told himself he was not going anywhere near the cave, but he seemed drawn in that direction. He found himself creeping down the passageway toward the chamber where once again the torches were lighted.
This time Timothy was with two brothers from Parksville, Bret and Jim Carson. They were 14 and 13 and were not the sort of boys that guys like Harold were supposed to associate with, unless they had to. This time Timothy knew exactly who the intruder was.
"You know you're not to come in here, unless you are naked, Harold. Strip!" Timothy ordered.
Harold reluctantly removed his clothes and folded them neatly. While he was doing so, Timothy made the introductions. "Boys, you know Harold Baxter, don't you?" he said.
"Goddam, I'd never of expected to see you here, Harold," Bret said.
"Harold is just getting his feet wet," Timothy explained. "This afternoon he's going to suck his first dick, aren't you Harold?"
"Uh..." Words failed Harold.
Timothy grasped his tool. "Here it is, Harold. Don't be shy. These boys have seen it all."
Harold was afraid to bolt. He knew he couldn't escape with his clothes. And they'd surely catch him anyway. Besides, Timothy's big prong had a hypnotic effect on him. As if in a trance he moved in front of the seventeen-year-old and touched the object that was being offered to him. Timothy grabbed his shoulders and pushed him to his knees. "You know you want to taste it. You know you want to eat your master. Suck me, Harold."
Harold's tongue flicked the head of Timothy's dick. It tasted of precum. It didn't taste bad. He licked further.
"Take it all, motherfucker. Eat my dick like it was a popsickle," Timothy urged.
"Yeah. Suck the son-of-a-bitch 'til he shoots," Jim echoed.
Timorously Harold forced his lips around Timothy's pole and slid down its length.
"Careful," Timothy said. "Don't bite."
The dick had a musky, masculine flavor. Harold sort of liked it. He slowly started to massage Tim's fleshy tube, savoring the taste like it was a new kind of pie. Timothy thrust his hips like he had when Amos had taken him. It was obvious he was well on the way to dropping a hot load. As Harold got into the spirit of giving head, his movements became more forceful and faster. Again Timothy grabbed his sucker's head and began to ravenously fuck face. He exploded without warning, saying "Pull back so you can taste my cum and swallow it all. It'll put hair on your chest."
Harold wasn't surprised by the pungent taste of Timothy's cream. He had already sampled some of his own.
The two onlookers cheered as Harold took Timothy's load. Timothy pulled Harold to his feet and showed his appreciation by cupping the younger boy's testes and fingering his hard shaft.
"Harold likes to get sucked," Timothy announced. "Jim, give him some head."
The youngest member of the group didn't have to be urged. He immediately went down on Harold before he realized what was happening. Again he experienced the ecstasy he had felt when Amos gave him his first blow job. And both Timothy and Bret enhanced the experience by using their fingers and lips on his ears, chest, navel, and ass crack.
"You did good," Timothy told Harold. "I knew you'd be back. We'll be meeting Saturday at two. Join us. I'll be baptizing Jim. Remember to leave your clothes at the entrance to the cave."
"I'll try to come," Harold said.
He methodically dressed, while the three others continued to cavort. For some reason he didn't quite feel the shame that he had before.