Date: Fri, 23 Aug 2013 17:32:38 -0700 (PDT)
From: Jonathan Luke <inadequatetheater@yahoo.com>
Subject: Gay -- Shady River (Shady River Baptism -- Chapter 2)

gay; dad/son; incest; urination; fucking; voyeur

All the standard fanfare regarding this story applies.  Play it safe in
real life, and only with those that are consensual.

Copyright, 2013.  This is my story and no one has a right to reproduce it,
link it to other sites, or use it without my permission.  It is also fiction.

Contact me at InadequateTheater@yahoo.com

Help a poor writer out by checking out my Author's Page at:
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/index.php?cPath=55_422

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

Shady River Baptism

Chapter 2

by InadequateTheater

Reverend Killian took a step back away from the pulpit and turned as the
organist began playing the closing hymn.  Feeling a tickle beneath his
nose, the forty-six year old man brushed a hand across his mustache
discreetly before sitting down in the designated chair across from youth
pastor Combs.

Combs had been antsy during the whole service, shifting uncomfortably when
he wasn't standing behind the pulpit to lead the congregation through each
hymnal.  Killian noticed how, as Combs darted up to the pulpit, the man
seemed to be sporting a slight bulge in his pants.  Smiling to himself, the
reverend imagined to himself how the single youth director must cope each
lonely night.  Combs was considered a catch among the single ladies of Red
Agony Creek Baptist Church.  For reasons that were debated among the
congregation, he had chosen to devote his service to the Lord for the time
being.

Reverend Killian preferred to keep his mind out of Combs's business so long
as the man continued to do his duty.  It wasn't his place, he felt, to pry
in people's lives.  Each time a so-called concerned member of the flock
came to him voicing suspicions about Combs's single status, Killian was
quick to remind them that Jesus believed that good Christians didn't snoop
around in other people's lives.

None of that shut up the gossipy hens, of course, but Killian suspected
than few things short of an apocalypse would do that.

Against his better judgment, Reverend Killian sneaked a peek at Combs.  It
was difficult to tell from the angle where he sat, but the reverend thought
that Combs's bulge was more pronounced now.  In truth, Reverend Killian had
always thought Combs was a very attractive man.  Combs would have been born
around the same time that the reverend was his age.  Still, the sight of
the man leading the congregation along to 'Just As I Am' while sporting a
stiffy made the reverend tense up.

Reverend Killian took several deep breaths to calm himself before he
developed the same problem.  Glancing out across the row of pews, Killian
felt a familiar pair of eyes.  Searching, he spotted Deacon Miles sitting
out on the fourth pew on the right with his wife and three kids.  Deacon
Miles was watching the reverend as he sang along with his dutiful wife and
bored-looking offspring.  Miles was smiling slightly as his eyes connected
with the reverend.  Somehow, the look on the deacon's face filled Reverend
Killian with unease.

When the hymn ended, Killian let out a sigh of relief.  The suit he was
wearing had begun to itch from the sweat building up over his skin.  Being
summer, it was warm inside the church despite the fact that the pews were
only half-full.  Quite a few people were fanning themselves with their
church pamphlets.  Reverend Killian waited a moment before pushing himself
out of the chair and heading down the steps to the first pew where his wife
was waiting.

"Have you seen Wyatt?" she demanded without preliminary.

Killian sighed.  "I assumed he was sitting over with the other youths," he
replied, nodding with his head at the wing on the right.

Alice Killian frowned at her husband and glanced toward the now-empty row
of pews that occupied the youth wing.

"He wasn't sitting with me," Alice stated, like it wasn't something the
reverend could work out without her help.  "I checked right before services
started and didn't see him in there, either."

"Pastor Combs said he was helping Wyatt in the gym with something," said
Killian, eager to have an answer that would placate Wyatt's mother.  "That
was why Combs came in late.  Wyatt probably came in after him and sat on
the end pew out of sight somewhere."

Alice looked less than enthused, but sighed in resigned acceptance.  "What
is wrong with that boy lately?" she asked aloud, not directing the question
at her husband exactly.  "He seems so distracted.  I'm worried it might be
drugs."

Killian said nothing, knowing there was no word or phrase of comfort he
could offer.  Alice would ramble and rave about Wyatt until she was
satisfied, whether there was reason to or not.  The one saving grace was
that she rarely did so in public.  Alice was terrified of any personal
details getting out to the general public.  The last thing she wanted was
for someone to suspect that her family was less than perfect.

Killian lived with this fact everyday, and didn't blame Wyatt one bit for
avoiding Alice during services.  In all likelihood, the boy had played
hookey.  Killian had noticed when the sermon began that Tyler Boydston,
John Heard, Skeeter Sanders, and Jamie Fulton were absent from the row of
youths.  The Red Agony Creek Baptist Church youth group was composed mainly
of children in the twelve and thirteen year-old bracket.  The four
ringleaders were the oldest boys in the youth group.  Wyatt fit in the same
age bracket as well, so it stood to reason that he might join in if the
boys decided to be boys.

Reverend Killian wasn't offended by the notion.  He'd been a teenager
himself and understood the thrill of being somewhere doing something adults
forbade far better than his wife did.  Alice would tan Wyatt's backside if
she ever found out, but Killian felt it was better for youngsters to get
their rebellious natures out of the way before becoming adults.  The bigger
temptations in life were much easier to avoid once one had stumbled over a
few of the smaller ones.

As Alice hummed and hawed under her breath, Reverend Killian looked past
her at the church doors up front.  A figure was standing there beside them
as though waiting expectantly.  Killian saw that it was Deacon Miles, and
felt the same chill from earlier trail up his spine.

Alice was busying herself going through each pew straightening the hymn
books and picking up pieces of trash left by the congregation.  She felt it
was her job as the reverend's wife to clean up after the service ended.
Despite his trepidation, Killian decided he was better off seeing what
Deacon Miles wanted.  Dealing with the broad man was far preferable to
listening to his wife complain that their flock of sheep were more like
pigs in a pigsty.

Killian's footsteps echoed over the carpet as he trailed up the aisle.
Deacon Miles was watching him the whole time with a knowing smirk.  Miles
often wore that expression on his face whenever Killian was present.  It
made Killian nervous.  Like all men, there were secrets in Killian's past
that he preferred to keep quiet.  Shady River had not been his choice, but
he'd made a comfortable life for himself all the same.  If a scandal were
to break out, it would destroy his job and marriage.

Something about the glint in Miles's eye made Killian think that the deacon
knew something.  Deacon Miles had never let on directly that he was privy
to the reverend's past.  Nevertheless, Killian brought his guard up as he
slowed to a stop in front of Miles, who grinned broadly at Killian for a
moment before offering the reverend his hand.

"Wonderful sermon," Miles said.  "Stirring, even."

Reverend Killian smiled politely and nodded his thanks, but didn't speak.
"My boys will be joining the youth group in a year or so," Miles went on,
jumping off one topic and into another.  "They're looking forward to
Mr. Combs being their Sunday School teacher."

Hearing Jeffrey Combs's name spoken aloud reminded the reverend of the
erection Combs had been sporting throughout the service.

"I hope Combs is still around when the time comes," Killian said, keeping
his tone civil.  "I'm sure he'll enjoy having the boys as part of the youth
group."

"I'm sure he will," said Miles, whose expression sharpened slightly into
something that almost looked sinister for a moment.  "Your stepson, Wyatt,
will still be a part of the youth group when my boys join if I'm not
terribly mistaken.  I hope they can learn from both him and Combs
together."

Reverend Killian almost frowned, but remembered to keep a straight face.
"I honestly don't know what Wyatt has planned after school," he replied,
"but I'm sure he will help in any way he can.  Combs often has Wyatt stay
to help out in the gym.  If your boys wouldn't mind, they could go ahead
and start assisting the two of them now."

Deacon Miles was positively beaming.  "I'm sure they'd be delighted," he
said, grinning from ear to ear like the Cheshire Cat.

"I'll speak with Combs about it, then," said Killian.

Alice's voice echoed off the walls of the church, slicing through the air
and cutting Killian off before he could speak another word.

"Wyatt Donnelly!" Alice Killian shrieked.  "Where in blazes have you been,
young man?"

Killian turned and spotted his stepson walking up the aisle toward his
mother.  Wyatt's pace slowed as he drew near to where Alice was.  The
reverend's wife was standing in the middle of the pew halfway up from the
pulpit with her arms folded and her eyes narrowed.

"Excuse me," Killian told Miles, walking away without waiting for a
response.

Alice spotted Killian coming and scowled, knowing he was riding to Wyatt's
rescue.  "Did you finish what Pastor Combs wanted you to do in the gym,
Wyatt?" Killian asked.

Wyatt paused, his face going slack for a second, before tightening back up.
"Yes, sir," Wyatt answered, giving his stepfather a nod.

Killian smiled and turned to Alice, who was frowning.  "How'd you know he
was working in the gym?" Alice asked suspiciously.

"I told you a few minutes ago," Killian reminded, rolling his eyes where
his wife couldn't see.  "Pastor Combs was the one who told me when he came
in late."

Alice Killian looked back and forth between her son and second husband for
a moment.  "I think we're ready to leave," Killian suggested.  "Anything
else that needs to be done can wait until later."

Alice left the pew, brushing past her husband without speaking, and waltzed
down the aisle to retrieve her Bible and Sunday School books.  Along the
way, she passed Wyatt, giving his arm a tight squeeze that left him
wincing.  Killian watched the young man with sympathy in his eyes.  Wyatt
refused to look the reverend's way, instead keeping his gaze focused on the
carpet under their feet.

"Let's go," Alice announced, coming back up the aisle.  "I'm sick of
cleaning up after these filthy folks each and every week."

Deacon Miles wasn't standing by the door, something that relieved Killian
greatly.  The reverend went last to lock the door behind him.  Once he was
certain the church was secure, the three of them marched out to their car
through the now-deserted parking lot.

The ride home didn't take very long.  The pastorium was located less than a
mile from where Red Agony Creek Baptist Church was situated.  The cozy
house with white tiles rested on top of a small uphill incline.  Once the
car was parked underneath the open garage, everyone departed without saying
a word to each other.

Alice marched up the steps to the front door first, unlocking it with her
own set of keys.  Once inside, she began busying herself in the kitchen.
Sunday lunch was already prepared, only needing to reheat while the buns
cooked.  Reverend took the opportunity while this was going on to change
out of his suit, which was stained with sweat by this point.  Wyatt went to
his room and closed the door, doing the same.

Now that he was alone, Killian took a moment to think more about what
Deacon Miles had said.  There was nothing obvious in the man's words, but a
clever person knew how to conceal their intentions while making their words
seem innocent.  Reverend Killian had been forced to endure the presence of
such people before in his life.  He was fairly sure Miles knew something,
or at least thought he knew.  It seemed unlikely that Miles wanted money.
He would have come right out and asked for it before now were that the
case.  It was possible that Deacon Miles simply wanted to watch the
reverend squirm for a while.

It was a common thing in small communities.  People grew up feeling
miniscule and unimportant compared to the rest of the world.  When the
opportunity arose to make someone else feel small, they seized it.  Shady
River was full of such folk.  The reverend saw such behavior all the time
in his occupation.

There was also the possibility that Deacon Miles had no proof at all.
There were still videos of the reverend floating around, but such things
were dangerous for an upstanding man of the community like the deacon.  If
Miles were caught with something like that, the reverend's ass would go
into the furnace, but the locals just might toss the deacon in right after
him.

Killian sighed, feeling frustrated.  Thinking about Deacon Miles and the
man's possible connection to his old life had stirred memories of a time
long ago.  The reverend's cock had begun to thicken and stretch the front
of his briefs.  Alice would be in the kitchen for several more minutes, if
not longer, and the Earth stood a better chance of falling out of its orbit
than Wyatt speaking to him.

Letting in a deep, decisive breath, Killian marched over to the bathroom
door that connected with the master bedroom.  Shutting the door behind him
and locking it, Killian then shucked his briefs and stood in front of the
lavatory mirror in the nude.  A well-cut body with only the lightest
dusting of body hair gazed back.  Black hair hung under Killian's nose and
atop his head.  Muscles flexed with the slightest movement.  It had been
years since Killian stood in front of a camera, but he still had the body
of someone in that sort of business.  Every inch of him spoke of heavy
lifting and sweat.

And then, of course, there was what lay hanging down between his legs.  It
had been the pride and joy of Roman Films for years.  Eight and
three-quarter inches jutted out proudly above two thick, heavy balls.
Killian smiled down at his erect cock, remembering the wide-eyed looks he
received in his youth from prospective partners.  Many had expressed a
desire to see it up close before performing with him.  Killian had been all
too happy to show it off in those days.

Now, he wrapped a calloused hand around the base of the shaft with one hand
and stroked.  The other hand trailed up his abdomen to both pecs, which
Killian flexed slightly at his reflection in the mirror.  It felt so good
to be admired again, even if he was the one doing it.

Images flashed through the reverend's head, memories of hot, sweat-coated
flesh rubbing and grinding against each other in a fevered rhythm.  Muscles
slamming against muscles, grunts and groans filling the air as passion
built to a frenzy, and grown men screaming their release.

There came a knock at the door, startling Killian.

"Jason!" Alice all but yelled, rapping her knuckles against the door again.

"I'm in here," Killian answered, clearing his throat.  "What's wrong?"

"Well, nothing," Alice replied, as though he were being absurd.  "It's just
that dinner's ready."

Killian let out a very quiet sigh.  "I'll be out in just a second."

Killian waited until he heard Alice's footsteps move away from the door
before reaching down to grab his briefs off the floor.  Slipping them back
on, he unlocked the door and peeked out to make sure the coast was clear,
then quickly slipped into his Sunday afternoon clothes.

Dinner was a quiet, almost somber affair.  Alice shot glances toward Wyatt
every soft often, who ignored her in favor of the intellectual stimulation
of pushing food around on his plate.  Once the plates were cleared and the
dishes put away, Alice set about performing her afternoon chores.  The
house was already spotless, but Alice Killian could find dirt or a smudge
anywhere if she put her mind to it.  Killian left her to her devices and
retired to the gym while Wyatt retreated once more to the sanctity of his
room.

The pastorium came with a small work shed.  Killian had converted it into a
home gym when they moved.  It was how he maintained his physique.  Alice
hated the place and had expressed a desire to pay someone to tear it down.
It was true that the shed was not in the best of shape.  Killian had been
forced to patch it up a few times.

Killian suspected that Alice's true intention was to rob him of his workout
regime, though.  She hated anything under her roof that didn't pay tribute
to her.  Killian loved to work out, though.  It was one of the few aspects
of his life that didn't revolve around his marriage or his work as a
reverend.  Inside the four walls of his gym, he was a man on a mission to
keep his body in as peek condition as he could.

With that in mind, Killian launched himself into his Sunday afternoon
routine, working on his biceps, triceps, quads, and cardio.  He'd been
sweating for an hour when there came a knock at the door.  Alice entered
the shed before Killian could invite her in and winced.

"It stinks in here," she declared.

Killian ignored her statement.  "What's the matter?" he asked.

Alice didn't answer right away, looking around the shed instead with a
disgusted look on her face.  "Ida Middleton is on the phone," she said
after a moment.  "It sounds as though she's finally ready to sign her
estate over to the church so it can be converted into a new pastorium."

The skepticism in Alice's voice was palpable.  "That's good news," said
Killian, getting down off the pedal bike.  "We need it.  This place won't
survive many more years."

Alice cast a look in her husband's direction, but said nothing.  "What's
the problem then?" Killian wondered when she didn't elaborate.

"She wants you to come down to the assisted living hospice right away so
she can sign the deed over to Red Agony Creek," Alice explained.  "Only,
you have to go to the church and fill up the baptistry tonight for the
baptismal service.  Or had you forgotten."

Killian had let the task slip his mind, but didn't think Alice should know
that.  "I can do both," he said confidently.

Alice shook her head.  "Ida Middleton will keep you at that place all
afternoon," she said pointedly.  "Besides that, filling up the baptistry
will take a couple of hours.  You should have gone and done it already
since the water takes several hours to heat up."

Killian frowned, seeing his wife's point.  "Can you fill up the baptistry?"
he asked, knowing full well how Alice would answer.

"I don't know anything about how that works," she replied dismissively,
just as Killian knew she would.  "And anyway, I'm supposed to drive over to
my sister's place to see how she's been holding up since her surgery.  I
was going to tell you goodbye when Ida rang the phone."

The shed went quiet for a minute.  "Call Deacon Miles," Alice suggested
suddenly.  "He's always asking if there's anything he can do to help.  This
is your chance to finally get some work out of the stuffed shirt."

Killian did not like the idea of asking Deacon Miles for anything, but
didn't see a way out of it this time.

"I'll call him," Alice offered, which made Killian take a step back.  "You
change out of those sweaty clothes you're in," she continued.  "Ida
Middleton is waiting on you, and you know what she's like when people make
her wait for anything.  She's liable to sit on that deed for another year
if you don't get to that hospice soon.  I'll make sure Deacon Miles gets
over to the church post-haste and fills the baptistry up for tonight."

Killian nodding, knowing his wife was right about Ida Middleton.  Halfway
out the shed door, he turned and looked back at her.

"Does Deacon Miles have a key?"

"I'll make sure he gets the key," Alice said, waving him off.  "Just go!"

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Wyatt let out the breath he'd been holding as his bike coasted up over the
hilltop.  Letting the momentum carrying him down to incline, the
fifteen-year old held both hands on the bars steadily as the afternoon
summer sun beat down on him.  Lunch was still churning in his stomach.
Wyatt had been careful not to overexert himself too much despite his
mother's nagging that he get to the church fast.

Wyatt had been in his room looking at one of the cum rag magazines he kept
hidden in there when his mother's footsteps echoed down the hall.  The
hallway floor was uneven enough that no one could walk down it without
rattling the walls.  Wyatt had stuffed the magazine under his bed and
yanked his shorts back up a second or two before Alice barged in.

Of course, it was an emergency.

"I need you to run a key down to the church for Deacon Miles so he can fill
the baptistry up for tonight," she'd said without preamble.  "Jason's got
to run visit with Ida Middleton, and I'm going over to my sisters, so
you'll need to ride your bike there.  The key is on the hook with the
others.  Don't dawdle long or get in the deacon's way."

With that, his mother had turned and vanished out the door, not closing it
behind her.  Wyatt had lingered behind in case his mother came back.  When
the front door slammed, he'd retrieved his nude male magazine and placed it
back in it's proper hiding place before changing into an old pair of riding
shorts.

It took Wyatt a little over ten minutes to reach the church parking lot.
Traffic on the main road wasn't as bad as usually today, meaning he didn't
have to veer off to the side constantly.  As soon as Wyatt reached the
front door of the church, he brought his bike around and parked it next to
the steps.

Immediately, Wyatt noticed something was wrong.  The front door was cracked
slightly.  Deacon Miles's car was parked in the spot usually reserved for
the reverend.  Feeling for the key in his pocket, Wyatt headed up the two
steps to the door and pushed the door open.

"She makes me peddle all the way down here like it's a crisis," Wyatt
grumbled over the creaking of the opening door, "and the deacon already had
a church key.  Of course."

Out of breath and feeling a cool draft blowing through the entrance, Wyatt
decided to step inside and cool down before heading home.  There was no one
expecting him to return right away, and it was rare that he had a chance to
spend time in the church while it was vacant.  Wyatt's mom was always
paranoid about that kind of thing.  She had the idea that he would smoke
weed in the choir rows, or throw a kegger in the nursery, if he were left
to his own devices.

Closing the door behind him, Wyatt took several tentative steps inside.  It
felt like he were being watched somehow.  Smiling at his paranoia, Wyatt
took a few hurried steps further before breaking into a jog.  It was
childish, but he'd always wondered what it would be like to run in church
when there was no one to scold him.  Reaching the end of the aisle, Wyatt
turned a sharp left and raced past the choir section, made a loop, then ran
back in the opposite direction toward the left wing where the church
elderly usually sat.

"No running inside the sanctuary!"

Wyatt felt his body freeze up.  Staggering in mid-step, he ended up
tripping over the carpet and tumbling head over heels.  Something solid
collided with his head, making him see stars.  The sound of footsteps
thudding quickly over the thick carpet, and suddenly there was a pair of
hands helping him up.

"You okay, sport?"

Wyatt blinked away the dazed feeling clouding his head and raised up to see
Deacon Miles smiling kindly at him, wearing his Sunday suit still.

"Sir?" Wyatt asked, still blinking.

Deacon Miles grinned and gave Wyatt a hearty slap on the back.  "Sorry I
rattled you back there," the deacon apologized.  "I was just messin' with
ya."

Wyatt felt his face flush red as it hit him that the deacon had been
watching the whole time.  "I shouldn't have been running inside the
church," he asked, sounding like an admonished child.

Deacon Miles laughed.  "I used to do the same thing," he revealed, giving
Wyatt's shoulder a squeeze.  "My buddies and I would whenever we had the
chance.  There was something about doing things in church that you weren't
supposed to."

Wyatt blushed further and gave the deacon an appreciative nod of thanks.

"What brings you down here?" Deacon Miles asked, drawing his hand away from
Wyatt slowly.

"Oh," said Wyatt, remembering.  "My mom wanted me to bring you a church key
so you could get in to fill the baptistry up for tonight's service."

The deacon's laughter sent warm chills over Wyatt's body.  "I guess I
should have told your mom that my wife still had the church key she
borrowed for her brother's wedding."

Wyatt nodded and waited while Deacon Miles's ebbed off.  "How'd you get
here?" the deacon asked, touching Wyatt on the shoulder again.

"Rode my bike," said Wyatt, not pulling away from the deacon.  "My mom had
to check on her sister and d... the reverend was going to see Miss Ida
Middleton about something."

"I hear she's turning her house over to the church so it can be remodeled
into a new pastorium," Miles said, nodding.  "Too bad you had to ride your
bike all the way up here for nothin', though."

Wyatt shrugged.  "I'm used to it," he said.

"Must feel cool inside after peddling in the summer heat," Miles went on,
eying Wyatt closely.  "You look like you pushed yourself to get here.  I
really do hate that you went to so much trouble for me, sport."

Wyatt wasn't certain what to say, so he kept his mouth shut.

"Would you mind terribly much giving me a hand filling up the baptistry?"
Miles asked, nodding a the open window behind the pulpit where the
baptistry rested.  "I know you must have your whole afternoon planned
before you have to come to evening services, but I sure could use the help.
Plus, you won't have to peddle back so quick."

"Sure," answered Wyatt.  "I didn't have a whole lot planned this afternoon
anyway."

Wyatt followed Deacon Miles around the choir rows to the back where the
entrance to the baptistry was kept.

"Wait here," Miles said before heading up the steps leading to the
baptistry door.  "My boys can't sit still on a Sunday afternoon.  They've
always got somethin' going on."

Wyatt waited while Deacon Miles paused to wrestle with the door, which
opened with the utmost reluctance.

"I think it has somethin' to do with knowing they gotta go back to church
in the evening," Miles continued once the door was opened.  "They don't
like going."

Wyatt smiled, but said nothing.  The deacon hadn't given him any
instructions, so he stayed right where he was at the foot of the short
stairway.

"I was the same way."  Deacon Miles's voice echoed slightly from within the
baptistry.  "I didn't like going to church.  My mother was the one who
insisted our family go, but once I got about your age, I stopped for a
while."

Silence filled the air between Wyatt and the deacon.  It sounded as though
Miles was shuffling around inside the baptistry, looking for something.
The sounds were muffled enough that Wyatt almost thought the deacon was
getting undressed.  Something that could have been a shoe hitting the floor
echoed through the door, but Wyatt laughed at himself for thinking that.

Still, the idea made his cock stir.

"What made you go back?" Wyatt asked him, anxious to fill the quiet now.

"I met someone who showed me that church could be fun," Deacon Miles
answered above the soft sounds of shuffling.

"Who?"

Another loud 'clunk' filled the air briefly before Deacon Miles resumed
speaking.  "The youth pastor of our church," Miles replied.  "A man by the
name of Palmer.  The church voted him in not long after I stopped going.  I
was chasin' after this sweet girl I had a thing for, and she kept insisting
I come back to church with her.  I finally said yes, and she introduced me
to Palmer."

Deacon Miles chuckled from inside the baptistry.  "That ended up being a
big mistake on her part," Wyatt heard the deacon mutter.

"How come?" he asked, confused both by the statement and by what he was
doing still standing there at the foot of the stairs.

"Come up the stairs and I'll tell you," replied Miles.  "I finally figured
out what I need your help with in here."

 Feeling a strange sense of trepidation, Wyatt ascending the steps one
after the other slowly.  There were a total of ten, and when Wyatt reached
the top, he found himself staring down into an empty baptistry.  Deacon
Miles was nowhere to be found.

"Deacon Miles?" Wyatt called out quietly as the hairs on the back of his
neck stood out.  "Hello?"

Wyatt took a cautious step forward into the baptistry.  There were fewer
steps going down into the enormous tub, and all of them were porcelain,
meaning Wyatt paid extra close attention to where he put his feet.
Luckily, the baptistry wasn't filled with water yet.  The tub stood at
about five feet in depth.  When Wyatt reached the very bottom, he could
just barely peek out over the bottom of the frame that allowed the
sanctuary to see inside.

"Deacon Miles?" he tried again.

The sound of flesh rubbing against porcelain sounded behind Wyatt, who
stared to turn at the noise.  A pair of strong, bear-like arms coated in a
thick mat of fur grabbed him around the chest from behind before he made it
all the way.  Wyatt felt himself pulled up against a warm, muscled body.
He could feel another thick carpet of hair, this one coating the chest of
who was holding him.  The arms squeezed Wyatt tightly, and Wyatt recognized
the scent of Deacon Miles's aftershave.

He was also aware that Deacon Miles was nude, and very much aroused.

"Surprise, sport," Miles said softly into Wyatt's ear, his mustache
tickling Wyatt and setting his nerves on end.

Wyatt opened his mouth to speak, but the words hung in his throat.  "Did I
scare you?" Deacon Miles asked without letting Wyatt go.

Wyatt could feel the deacon's stiff, thick cock brushing against his back,
and his own cock responded.  Deacon Miles's chest rumbled as he laughed,
clearly seeing the lump that had formed in Wyatt's shorts.

"You're such a good boy, Wyatt," the deacon whispered, running a hand down
Wyatt's front slowly, making Wyatt shiver.  "You've always been a wonderful
boy.  I've watched you for a long time, watched you go from a wonderful boy
to a bright young man."

Deacon Miles's hand stopped above the hem of Wyatt's shorts and brushed
back and forth against the fabric.

"So many men in the church think you're incredible," the deacon asked.
"Did you know that?  All they ever talk about is how mature and
well-behaved you all.  They all say that you deserve the best, and they
wish that their own children were more like you."

Wyatt gulped at the deacon's praise.  His eyes stayed fixed on the deacon's
hand, which had begun raking gently up and down the front of Wyatt's
shorts.  The sensation was making Wyatt's cock hard like a rock.  His
breathing has sped up.  The smell of the deacon was all around him now,
causing his heart to pound.

"Everyone knows the reverend doesn't pay enough attention to you,"
whispered Deacon Miles, his voice barely audible now.  "They think it's
sad.  A young man as good as you should have someone in his life to show
him the ropes, to help guide him through life."

At some point, Wyatt's arms had reached up to grab at the deacon's own
muscular arms.  Wyatt couldn't remember when he'd done that, but he was
pushing to get away.  Blinking, he looked down at himself, confused by the
lack of movement.  Deacon Miles was a very big man, and capable of holding
Wyatt in place, but he should have at least struggled some.

To his surprise, Wyatt realized he was holding the deacon closer to him.
The erection pressing into his back felt like a hot rod of steel.  A gasp
escaped Wyatt's throat as the deacon leaned down to place a trail of kisses
softly down Wyatt's neck.  Whatever resistance there might have been
nestled deep inside Wyatt vanished in a surge of arousal.

"I want to be that man for you, Wyatt," Miles uttered between kisses,
giving the teen a tight squeeze.  "You and I fit together so perfectly.  We
would be so right for one another."

Wyatt's breaths came in quick gasps now.

"Would you like that, Wyatt?" Deacon Miles pressed.  "Would you like for me
to be your daddy?  I promise you it will be very nice.  You won't regret
it."

Wyatt couldn't think.  It felt like his head was underwater.  He could
still feel Deacon Mile's hand rubbing back and forth over the fabric where
his cock strained, begging to be released.  The amazing thing was that
Wyatt hadn't cum yet.  Deacon Miles was still nuzzling against his neck,
kissing and running his tongue playfully over Wyatt's collar bone.

A noise escaped Wyatt's throat before he could stop it.  Deacon Miles went
still when he heard it, then raised up enough to whisper in Wyatt's ear.

"What was that?" Deacon Miles asked.  "What did you say, Wyatt?"

Wyatt gasped, fighting inside of himself for control.  Something broke away
before he could hold it back, and the feeling welled up in his chest,
spilling out over his lips before he could stop it.

"Daddy."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Reverend Killian sighed, giving the door to his truck a tug that was harder
than necessary.  A feeling of satisfaction filled him as the door slammed
shut.  As of this moment, the deed to the widowed Middleton woman's house
belonged to Red Agony Creek Baptist Church.  Killian hoped this meant he
wouldn't have to deal with the woman any more.  Though he felt for her, Ida
Middleton was nothing short of a pain in the ass.

Killian pitied the Lord for the day when she was called home.

Killian stretched out against the seat of his truck, letting the heat from
it press against his tired back muscled for a moment.  He was horny for
some reason and in desperate need of relief.  Alice would still be at her
sister's, though, meaning Killian was left with nothing but his hand for
comfort.

Sighing, Killian started the truck and shifted it into reverse.  It was
getting on in the afternoon, but he decided to stop off at the church.
Killian wanted to make sure Deacon Miles had filled the baptistry like he'd
said he would.  Plus, there were notes on his evening worship sermon that
he wanted to double-check.

The drive through Shady River didn't take very long.  Reverend Killian's
cock kept pushing against the fly of his pants the whole time, though.
Once or twice, Killian considered whipping his cock out and giving it a few
good strokes.  The idea of being caught driving with his dick waving at
pedestrians kept him from doing so.  By the time he reached Red Agony Creek
Baptist Church, however, the reverend was sporting a cock standing at
half-mast.

Reverend Killian scowled slightly as he marched from his truck to the front
steps.  The front door had been left cracked ever so slightly.  Wondering
if this was Wyatt's doing, Killian reached forward and pushed the door
open.  Before it had swung all the way, a noise was rolling down the aisle
from somewhere up front near the pulpit.  Killian recognized it
immediately, though this was the last place in the world he'd expected to
hear it.

"FUCK!"

The swear word followed along with several hard grunts and muttered curses,
as if to drive the point home for the reverend.  Killian eased the door
shut and stepped forward, eager to catch whoever was fornicating in his
church in the act.

The sounds were coming from the baptistry.  Killian realized this as he
walked softly over the carpet toward the altar.  A feeling began to settle
over him, like he was being swallowed by the earth.  Clothes were scattered
between the chairs where he and Youth Pastor Combs sat during services,
like someone had cast them over the side in a hurry.  Rather than look
directly inside the baptistry, Reverend Killian crept around the side of
the choir rows and over to the door that led up into the baptistry where
the sounds still echoed from.

"Fuck me, Daddy," the reverend heard a familiar voice cry out.  "Fuck me
harder, please!"

The sound of Wyatt's voice made the reverend's heart stop for a second.
"Anything my boy wants," said Deacon Miles's voice from up the steps.  "My
boy has the best ass in the whole wide world."

Killian heard Wyatt's voice again making high-pitched whines while Killian
eased in closer.  The two were at the top of the steps leading into the
giant porcelain tub.  Wyatt had straddled Deacon Miles's lap and was
bouncing up and down like a bronco riding a bull at the rodeo.  Wyatt's
face was screwed up into a grimace, which intensified each time he pushed
himself back down onto Deacon Miles's dick.

"Good boy," Deacon Miles encouraged in a sweet, tender tone.  "Ride your
Daddy's dick, boy.  Keep riding up and down on that big Daddy cock.  Daddy
thinks you're doing just the best job in the whole fucking world, making
Daddy feel so good.  Your ass feels so tight.  It makes Daddy wanna cum."

"Cum inside of me, Daddy!" Wyatt cried out.  "I want Daddy's cum in me.
It's what I've waited for so long now."

Reverend Killian felt his heart slam into his chest.  His pulse was racing
a mile a minute.  Watching Wyatt bounce high up off Deacon Miles's cock,
only to slam back down a second or two later, was making Killian's face
flush.  Worse yet, Killian felt his cock swelling to it's full eight and a
half inches.  He wondered if Miles's dick was as big, or even bigger.
Whether that was the case or not, Wyatt seemed to have no trouble taking
it.

"You're making me wanna cum, boy," Miles warned Wyatt, who gripped the
deacon's shoulders like they were reins on a saddle.  "You make Daddy wanna
cum.  Is that what you want?"

"Yes, Daddy," Wyatt gasped out.  "I want Daddy to cum.  Will you cum inside
me?"

In answer, Deacon Miles seized Wyatt by the hips.  Killian watched as Miles
pushed himself up off the steps, standing upright with Wyatt holding on.
Wyatt's arms were wrapped around Deacon Miles's neck, clinging to the man
with everything the teenager had.  Killian realized a moment later that
Miles's cock was still lodged in his stepson's asshole, for Miles began to
toss Wyatt up in the air on it.

"Fuck, boy!" Miles called out, his voice bouncing off the walls of the
baptistry.  "My balls are about ready to unload.  Are you ready for it?"

Wyatt didn't answer.  His mouth was hanging open in a permanent 'O' shape.
Deacon Miles let go of Wyatt with one hand and smacked him hard on the left
cheek.

"I can't hear you, boy!" he barked.

Wyatt gasped, taking in a deep breath, before making a sound that might
have been an 'uh-huh'.  Killian wasn't sure himself, but Deacon Miles
seemed to accept that as an affirmation.

"Then get ready," Miles warned.  "Cuz Daddy's all set to breed his boy."

Deacon Miles's thrusts became a blur, his hips pounding into Wyatt at the
frantic pace of a jackhammer.  Wyatt's moans grew louder and louder until
they were a constant stream of noise.  It sounded to Killian like Wyatt was
being killed, yet the look on his stepson's face left little doubt in the
reverend's mind that his stepson was currently on cloud nine.

"Fuck me," Wyatt exclaimed unexpectedly.  "Fuck me harder, Daddy.  Breed
me, Daddy!  Don't ever stop fucking me, Daddy.  Just... fuck..."

"Fuck yeah, boy!  Daddy's cumming!  Daddy's breeding his favorite boy's
ass!"

"I love your cock in my asshole, Daddy.  I want it to stay in there.  Just
don't... stop... fucking... me evveerrrrrrr!"

Killian wasn't sure when it happened, but he was rubbing his hand over the
fabric where his cock stretched down the leg of his pants.  Furthermore, he
felt his own load spilling out into his drawers.  The seed from his balls
splashed against the inside of his briefs before dripping down along his
own still-swollen balls.

Up in the baptistry, Deacon Miles let out a roar, announcing to anyone and
everyone present that he was breeding the reverend's stepson's ass.
Killian imagined his stepson's bowels being filled to the brim with the
deacon's potent babymakers.

Wyatt clung to the deacon's bigger frame, holding on tightly like a small
child in need of comfort.  Miles squeezed back for a moment before easing
Wyatt down to the tile floor of the baptistry.  Killian watched, expecting
the two to get dressed now.  Instead, Deacon Miles gently pushed Wyatt down
onto his knees, past the point where Killian could see.  Killian wondered
what was about to happen, but he didn't need to wait very long.

The was a noise like water trickling out of a facet.  Killian realized with
a jolt that Deacon Miles was pissing all over Wyatt.  The reverend waited,
expecting his stepson to protest, but the only sound was a moan of delight
from Wyatt.

"Thank you, Daddy," he heard Wyatt say in a soft tone.

"This marks you as one of my own, boy," Deacon Miles said proudly.  "From
now on, you'll be my boy, and I'll be your Daddy.  Sound good?"

"Oh yes," Killian heard Wyatt reply as something inside him broke.  "I
would like that very much."

~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~     ~*~

Nifty could use your support!  So donate at:
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

Again, feel free to help a poor writer out by buying a book from my
Author's Page at: www.dreamspinnerpress.com/store/index.php?cPath=55_422