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"Oh, you've got to go to church with me today," my mother pleaded with me as I groaned and tossed on my bed. "We've got a new minister and I'm sure he'll be just a wonderful man."

"Oh, all right, ma, all right, I'm getting up." I groused as I dragged my limp, nude body out of my bed and into the bathroom. My mother's voice, now having to go through the bathroom door in addition to the stairs, yelled at me from the kitchen, "Now, wear a nice suit, dear. We don't want Brother Michael to think we're uncouth."

"All right, ma, all right." I grumped. I showered, shaved, pulled on that damned suit, and managed to eat some breakfast before we had to go. I hated church, my mother knew that. What a new minister was supposed to do was beyond me.

I watched with a pleased fascination from our usual front-row seat as Brother Michael took the pulpit. You know how most ministers for a small town look; either fat and covered with acne, or tall, thin and gangly, also covered with acne. Brother Michael, in a sea of acne, was a vision of clear-faced masculinity. Strong, sharp cheekbones, coal-black hair and the strongest, piercing blue eyes I'd ever seen. His body showed a lifetime of working out, strong round shoulders, his rippling muscles defying their confinement in the harsh black shirt and pants he wore. I had to keep looking at his collar, that square of white at his thick throat, to remind myself not to look at his crotch.

Then he stepped from behind the pulpit and perched on the railing; and I was lost. He was sitting right in front of me, his legs spread wide in tight black pants, showing, to me and only me, a bulging basket with a thick rod making a lump down one inseam. Brother Michael definitely "dressed left", and did not wear underwear! I rubbed my own crotch while I feasted on the sight.

Before I knew it, the sermon was over. I groggily got to my feet and joined the line of parishioners leaving the church.

Brother Michael was at the door, greeting his flock as they exited, and my family, at the front of the church, was the last to file out. "Greetings, sister." he said to my mother.

"Oh, Brother Michael, you have to come to dinner with us one day." my mother gushed. I guess she thought it was religious zeal, but she was almost drooling as she said this. I was kind of drooling myself.

"Thank you, sister, but I would have to ask for it to be two months from now. So many of my flock to visit. Of course, I'd like to come visit."

And we dawdled at the door while they set a date nearly three months from now. Brother Michael wasn't going to have to do much of his own cooking.

"And what about your family." my mother asked.

"I am single, Mrs. Johnson." he replied, giving mother a title she didn't really deserve. I was a bastard child, and my mother and I were all the family there was. Maybe that's why my mother is so religious.

"Oh, but that can't be." my mother resounded. "My own husband passed away three years ago, and I know how lonely it is." My mother just added three years of Purgatory to her sentence with that lie, I was thinking, and so I was nearly laughing when Brother Michael turned his devastat- ing smile on me.

"And you, young man." he said. "I could use some help unpacking if you have a few hours."

I could only nod weakly. My mother admonished me to be home in time for supper and to bring Brother Michael if I wished. I agreed, and followed Brother Michael back into the church.

He led me to the minister's house next door, into the kitchen and through the house. Everything was put away, everything was in place.

"I don't understand." I said. "What do you need me for?"

Brother Michael led me into the bedroom, also neatly arranged. Inside, he closed the door and turned to me. "I had to make some excuse for your mother." he said and took me in his arms! Before I knew it, we were kissing, his tongue invading my passive body, my arms around his neck while his huge hands pulled my buttocks apart.

"I don't get it." I said when I finally got my mouth free. "How did you know?" I didn't try to pretend I wasn't aroused; my cock was pressing against his leg at this very moment.

Brother Michael smiled. "You spend the entire service staring at my groin and rubbing yourself, and I'm not supposed to know?"

"Oh," I said. "Well, then, I'd better get out of these church clothes. I dropped the blazer on the floor and tugged off my tie,while he unbuttoned his collar and took off the stiff white cleric's collar at his throat. Then he unbut- toned his shirt and I unbuttoned mine while watching in fascination. Every button he undid seemed to pop aside, freeing his massive pectorals, showing the light coat of hair between his breasts. His body seemed to shout for joy as it was finally freed from the bondage of the minister's clothes. As he finished and pulled it off, I reached for his breasts and stroked them lightly, not aggressively, just making sure that big body was real. It was.

Brother Michael reached and undid his pants, and I said, "Let me do it." And I unzipped him, revealing a thick coat of pubic hair. I knew there was no underwear, I knew it! As the zipper reached bottom, I saw just the hint of his cock and balls, and I reached in, down his left pants' leg, and freed his stiffening schlong, and it sprang out at me.

God, it was huge! It must have been 10 inches of thick, uncut meat!!! I grabbed hold of it while he unzipped me to return the favor. We kissed again, this time fiercely, while we pleasured each other with our hands.

I don't remember when I did it, or how, but I was suddenly on my knees in front of Brother Michael, sucking on his long schlong, his hands on my head, force-feeding me all of it with each stroke. I was smothering, but I didn't care!

Brother Michael broke free and we frantically pulled off our shoes and socks, then pants and my underpants, to be now naked together. Brother Michael eased me back on the bed, and we kissed while he spread my legs and maneu- vered between them. He stretched from where he was to the nightstand drawer, and there pulled out a tube of lube. I couldn't help grinning from ear to ear. Brother Michael, our minister, was about to fuck me.

He greased up his long manmeat and then inserted a lube-coated finger into my ass. My butt gratefully made room for him. "Have you done this before?" he asked.

"No, but I want it." I said. "I want all of it."

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He laughed. "You'll get it, brother." And he moved back into fucking position, pulled my legs to around his slim waist, and gently slid it in.

I took all of it, easy! I'd never known before how easy it was to be fucked. Maybe I was just so hot, but all I know is that there was no pain, none at all. All I felt was a wild sense of gratitude while my preacher slid his long cock into my ass where it was welcomed like an old friend.

He saw there was no need for the gentleness he'd obviously planned, and he rode me like a horseman, and I was his hot stallion.

The bed groaned and creaked with the unaccustomed exercise. I looked over Brother Michael's heaving shoulders to, of all things, the crucifix at the foot of his bed. He had it there so he could see it, first thing in the morning and last thing at night. A nearly naked man hanging from the cross. Somehow, in a totally non-religious way, the meaning fit.

Brother Michael was grunting now, as his long schlong invaded my ass, plunging in and out at a furious speed. "Oh, yeah, fuck me, brother, fuck me."

"Oh, yeah, little brother." he gasped. "Oh, you feel so good."

"Oh, fuck me, fuck me. Ah, ah, ahhh!" I was coming, and I groaned as my load shot out of my cock and onto this big man.

As my come hit him, Brother Michael said, "Oh, yeah, shoot it on me, all of it! Oh, oh, uh, uhhh!" and he was coming, a massive load being sprayed deep into my bowels. And Brother Michael collapsed on top of me, crushing me with his heavy body, and my last look before falling asleep was a blurred crucifix, in which the cross vanished, leaving only a near nude man, his hands raised in a benediction.

I slept only a short time, for when I awoke, Brother Michael was still atop me, his shoulders still pulsating. I kissed his shoulder gently and he nibbled on my neck.

We got up and got dressed in silence, then at his insistence, knelt a time in prayer of thankfulness at the joys our bodies had given us and each other. He seemed to have no trouble reconciling his religion with his needs. We arose and I felt amazingly refreshed, ready for anything.

As I returned home, my coat and tie slung across my shoulder, my mother saw me. "That didn't take too long. What did you think of our new minister?"

"I think I should go to church more often." I told her. "He's asked me to come over every day after school, to help him out."

And my mother said a prayer of joy at her son being guided to the light. If she only knew. If she only knew!

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