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 5
"Every head bowed, every eye closed." That no longer made sense to Harold. So as the Reverend Moody's prayer droned on, he looked around. His eye met Timothy's, and Timothy smiled and winked. Harold giggled to himself.
Mose did come to see Harold after Sunday Dinner. They went up into the woods. Harold led them to another cave, far away from the lair.
After they'd played with themselves for a few minutes, Harold asked, "So have you done anything with anybody but jack off?"
"What d'ya mean?" asked his companion.
"I mean like suck," Harold answered.
"Suck?"
"Like this." Harold went down on Mose's dick, knowing that it would send him to paradise.
"No!...Don't!...That's not right!
"Oh...that feels so good." Mose then moaned. He was immediately hooked.
"Eat me!" Harold then had demanded. By now he was learning the language of sex well.
Mose tasted cum for the first time and shot off in another guy's mouth for the first time. It was a lot better than just jacking off. They walked back down the mountain satisfied.
All week Harold was torn between what his conscience told him to do and what he really wanted to do. He really thought the Satan stuff was crap, but what Timothy was offering was so exciting, so much fun. And the sex was something else. He could only imagine the thrill of baptism and the adulation of the "congregation" afterward.
He did return the following Saturday.
At future meetings, he proudly told them that he had stolen a package of Kotex.
"Well, that's one thing you won't ever need," Timothy laughed.
On a dark night, he found a stray dog willing to be petted. He slit the roof of its mouth with a razor blade and left it to die. That was the most terrible thing he had ever done. He cried for hours before drifting off into a fitful sleep.
As the day of his baptism neared, Michael Winslow approached him after church one Sunday.
"You aint never been fucked, have you?" Michael asked.
"No," Harold replied.
"Better if you know what to expect," Michael said. "Let me prepare you."
They found a place to meet. Michael was very tender when he popped Harold's ass-cherry and then further prepared his ass for the ceremony. "No pain," he promised. He and his friend John both enjoyed Harold's ass, and let Harold reciprocate. For the first time Harold felt the exhilaration of having one dick up his ass, while he sucked on another hard cock.
John couldn't resist introducing his friend, Mose, to the joys of fucking and being fucked. Mose was thrilled to feel Harold's ever bigger dick up his ass. He was even more thrilled, when Harold let him stick his tube into his own bunghole.
Mose was curious about how Harold had become so knowledgeable about things sexual. Harold had always evaded his questions. Mose, still the "true believer," also was concerned about his friend's ever greater use of "bad" language. Harold retorted, "Hell, don't you ever go downtown and talk to anybody?"
The day of Harold's baptism arrived. He couldn't believe how hyped he was. As instructed, he arrived a half hour early to get his ass properly greased. At the service he recited the expected answers to Tim's questions and lay on the sacred table with his legs uplifted. Mike and John were the assistants. Tim rammed his dick up Harold's ass in one savage thrust. On this, his eighteenth birthday, Tim relished ravaging the chute of his acolyte. He had taken a tender, naïve kid, who was "just exploring," and turned him into a sex-crazed demon, who couldn't go twelve hours without orgasmic relief of some kind.
Each time his dick furiously pumped into Harold anus, the boy was crying out, "Yeah, fuck me hard," over and over again. And as Tim shot rope after rope of his life-making cum into the newly baptized, he himself screamed, "Yea, yea, yeaaaa." Simultaneously, Mike and John released spurts of their cream onto the body of the exhilarated fourteen-year-old. The "congregation" couldn't control itself. They too sensed that this was something special.
"There aint no Harold in scripture," Tim declared, "but I still declare that his Satanic name will become "Hal."
"Hail, Hal," the "congregation" replied.
After Tim's benediction, Hal's tongue cleaned what cum remained on Mike and John's dicks, and let his rear be pierced by several other members. Amos, who had given him his first blow job, reprised the event.
It had been an afternoon to remember.
As Harold was leaving the cave, Timothy laughingly called to him. "Hey, don't let your folks see you walking funny like that."
He did have a sore ass, but as he treked back down the mountain he still felt intoxicated, and it wasn't because of the extra swig of whiskey he'd drunk. Man, he was charged.
When he reached home, he found Mose waiting.
"Hey," his friend chided, "I thought you said you helped your dad on Saturday afternoons. What do you really do?"
"I'll tell you one of these days."