Date: Sat, 6 Nov 2004 07:03:25 -0800 (PST)
From: Bob Archman <bldhrymn@yahoo.com>
Subject: Old Saint Nick 2

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.


Old Saint Nick

Part 2

By Bald Hairy Man    e-mail  bldhrymn@aol.com or bldhrymn@yahoo.com


That afternoon I took Richard and the novices on a trip to see all of our
properties.  They were shocked at both the state of deterioration of our
properties and their extent.  None of us had any idea the Abbey was a
landlord.  Richard had a cousin who was a building contractor, so he was
going to call him and find out what could be done.

We were an order devoted to prayer and reflection.  It seemed to me the
condition of our properties was so bad, some hands-on action was required.
Over dinner we discussed the need for action and all were in favor.

"Prayer is well and good," Brother Richard said, "but those houses and
apartments were in a sinful state.  I can't believe people actually live
there."

"I thought Abbot Frederic liked the poor.  He sure prayed for them a lot,"
Sean commented.  "The praying didn't seem to convert into good deeds."

"He told me our job was to pray," Timothy said.  "Leave the action to
others, he told me."

"I'm not sure praying is good if you have it in your power to correct the
situation yourself," I said.  "I thought you sought divine guidance for
difficult decisions.  You aren't supposed you use it as an excuse for not
solving problems."

"Those apartment complexes looked terrible, do we have enough money to dent
the problem?" Sean asked.

"We do," I said, then I told them about the DeLisle bequest and the money
in the bank.  There was stunned silence.

"What was Abbot Frederick thinking?" Richard asked.  "It seems
inconceivable."

"That's they way it seems to me," I said.  "It strikes me as sinful for us
not to rectify the situation.  We must act." There was no more discussion.
The Monastery of St. Nicholas was ready to act.  That night I decided to
take a shower again.  Perhaps I was enjoying the freedom for Abbot
Frederick's rigorous and strict demands for austerity.  It was a small
thing, but it felt liberating.  I had just gotten under the shower head
when Sean appeared.

When we had showered before we had picked shower heads at opposite sides of
the room.  This time Sean took the shower next to me.  He wasn't trying to
hide his cock from me this time either.  His cock was uncut, short and
thick.  He had big calls but his penis looked like a third ball, wrapped in
foreskin.

"Things are different here, now that the Abbot is dead," Sean said.

"I trusted him when he was alive.  He was a dominant person, but now that
he's gone, it's as if he never existed," I said.  "There were so many
rules.  They all seem meaningless now."

"What do you mean?"

"He had all these rules about how to get to heaven, but he was a slum
lord," I said.  "He was taking money from poor and pathetic people for
horrible housing while telling us how to pray for a millionaire's
salvation."

"I hadn't thought about it like that."

"He told us how to adore the Blessed Sacrament and how to pray and show
proper reverence to the Blessed Mother.  He was a miser, taking money from
the poor for God knows what purpose." I continued.  "What good does
adoration of the Blessed Sacrament do if you're screwing poor people?"

"He certainly was worried about sex," Sean said.  "It seems he was worried
about screwing people physically.  He just didn't mind screwing them
metaphorically."

"I think he got it backwards," I said.

"You do?" Sean asked.  I saw his cock twitch when I made my comment.

"I do.  Certainly taking advantage of another human being for your own
sexual pleasure is bad, but if you both want it and know what you are
getting into, where's the problem?"  I asked.  "I can't figure out where
the sin is."

"Do unto others?"

"That's the problem." I said, "Jesus said that is the summary of the Law.
To people enjoying each other can't be a sin."  I glanced at his cock and
it was getting hard.

"Even if it's two men?" Sean asked.  Instead of answering, I reached over
and stroked his cock.

"Thank you," Sean whispered.  I had thought his cock was short.  I was
wrong about that.  As he got excited, it grew.  It was so thick, it was
easy to think it was shorter than it was.  He touched my cock, waited for
me to react, then began stroking mine.

I was almost to full erection when I felt cum splattered on my body.  Sean
shot off.  Long ribbon's of his seed hit my hairy torso and dripped across
my gut.  The hair on my head and my beard are white, but my body hair is
darker.  The creamy seed showed up well.  Sean must have saved up for a
long time.  My chest looked like a Jackson Pollack painting when he was
done.

"I'm sorry," he said.  "I made a mess."

"Sean, we're in the shower," I responded.  "It's not a problem." We cleaned
up and dried off.

"Are you sure this is all right?" Sean asked.

"If you feel as good as it do, it's fine," I said.  We returned to the
Chapel for evening prayers. I asked for God's blessing on the new path of
the Brothers of St. Nicholas.  We were abandoning our life of solitary
prayer and joining the world to correct a wrong. It would be nice if God
would sens clear messages, such as lightening bolts or voices in thunder,
but that didn't happen.

When I baldly stated our intentions, the correctness of our new course was
obvious. "Let us become an order of loving men, devoted to good works and
friendship.  Let us become a brotherhood of loving men.  Men who show
affection of each other and for the world around us. Let us be simple,
rather than austere, let us be thrifty rather than miserly." I prayed.

"If Christ were telling the parable of the good shepherd today, who would
the Samaritan be?" I asked in my sermon. "Would he be a recent immigrant
from Mexico or Latin America? Was the Samaritan a Gay man?  We know the
Samaritan was despised by all the good people, the Levites and Pharisees.
Whoever Jesus would select as the modern Samaritan, we must not be the
Levite, the sanctimonious man who passes by giving no help, no aid."

I ended with a prayer for Abbot Frederick.  I knew he had intended to be
good.  He was searching for virtue. He wanted to be saintly. Something had
gone wrong in his search and he had taken the wrong path. Frederick wanted
to be without sin, and as he got purer and purer, he had stopped being
human. He avoided human contact. The Abbot had been so worried about sin,
he forgot virtue.

I felt much better after the evening prayers.  All of us felt better.  When
I discovered the money and the derelict properties, I had been enraged at
the Abbot.  My desire to correct the problems was combined rage at him. He
had been a hero and guide to me, demanding and strict. I was sure he was
nearly a saint.

The rage and sense of betrayal vanished. Something had happened to the
Abbot, I might never know what happened, but he had become lost.  That was
the past. If the best revenge is living well, the Brothers of St. Nicholas
would need to live very well.

I slept very well that night, without dreams of Abbot Frederick or of St.
Peter.  Timothy didn't have any bad dreams either.  The ghosts had been
banished.

The next day I met with Richard's cousin, Bruno.  Bruno worked for the
Millennium Construction Company and was knowledgeable about renovations.
He talked to me briefly and called in his boss, John Williamson.  Quite
frankly, Bruno looked like the missing link.  John inspired more
confidence.

I explained the problem and told them about the properties.

"You own those hell holes?" John exclaimed.  He looked annoyed.

"You know them?"

"Sure, they've been a blight for years," he said.  "How in hell did you let
them go so bad?"  I explained the situation.  He calmed down.  Apparently,
the properties were well known.  He knew the rental agents we had used.
John described them as pond scum.  Apparently several of his employees had
rented from them and John had a run in with the agents.

"I'm normally level headed, but these guys were too much," John explained.
"The plumbing and the electricity didn't work and they were trying to
garnish my guy's wages to make repairs.  Let me tell you, my lawyers and a
lot better than your relators."

To say I wasn't experienced in the world of business is an understatement.
John knew it all, the Realtors, architects and financial advisors we would
need.  It seemed too good to be true.  I went back to the Abbey and made
some calls, our Accountant first.

Millennium was well known for the quality of their work and honesty.  "They
rebuilt the major structures after the terrorists bombing," he explained.
"Most of that work was cost plus, emergency reconstruction work.  A licence
to steal in my opinion.  To my knowledge, there wasn't a question about a
single penny of the work.  Honest and solid as a rock.  Do you think they
would be interested in doing work on your buildings?  It's not their cup of
tea."

I explained one of their men was a cousin of Brother Richard.  I then
called the diocese and got similar glowing recommendations from them.  It
seemed we had hit pay dirt on our first venture into the real world.  The
next day Richard and I went with Bruno and John to look at the buildings.
They brought an architect, Max MacAfee along with them.

I knew nothing about buildings at the beginning of our visit, but knew
quite a bit by the end.  Several buildings were too dangerous or too
unsanitary to be habitable.  Fortunately, several were in better shape than
they looked.  Max would make a list of emergency repairs which would make
the other buildings safe, if not attractive.  He would meet with the
building inspector to confirm his thoughts and would develop a plan of
attack.

Bruno, Richard's neanderthal cousin was much smarter than t he looked.
John and Max were clearly high powered businessmen, but they asked Bruno
for his advice and consulted with him.  They would discuss how to fix this
or that, and Bruno made a contribution.  The Abbey was a hierarchical
organization and it seemed refreshing to watch the give and take between
the three men.

They also suggested a new rental agent and a lawyer.  I agreed with their
thoughts.  It was a long, hot and dirty eight hours of building inspection
and talking.  At the end of the day, we were well on the way.  We returned
to the Abbey with Bruno to look at some problems at the Abbey buildings.
Max and John had other obligations.

After walking around the building for an hour, Bruno looked unhappy.
"You've got a mess here too, Abbot John," he said.  "The Abbot's residence
is in good shape, but the rest is pretty poor." We were in an electrical
room looking at a fuse box.  "It's lucky you only have four guys here.  If
you turn on too many lights, this building would be a goner."  The wiring
was old and frayed.  Much of it must have been installed when the building
was electrified in the early 20th century.

There was one new box with breaker panels in it.  It was for the new shower
room.  "Whoever did this for you did it right." Bruno commented.

We located the fuses for the old hot water heaters.  I told Bruno about the
cold baths.  "You know, he may have been doing you a favor.  There really
isn't enough juice on the old wiring to run a water heater," Bruno
explained.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I remembered Abbot Frederick complaining
about the contractor.  When they fixed up the shower room, he had forced
the Abbot to meet modern codes.  The Abbot felt codes didn't apply to
religious buildings.  The contractor said there wasn't a faith based
electrical code.  There had been a fight, I think.

"These are good old buildings, but from a safety point of view you need to
stay in the Abbot's house and use the new shower room until you can get the
building up to code," Bruno said.

"Do we need to do that?" I asked.  "It would be expensive."

"I'm not worried about meeting the code 100%," he said.  "Keeping the
building from burning down is my worry."

"It's that bad?"

"It's not good.  You might get lucky, you might not," Bruno replied.  "Are
you a risk taking man?"  That comment settled it for me.  I am cautious by
nature.  Our tour of the building had reached the new shower room.  It was
bright, clean and shiny oasis in the midst of a desert of dinge.

"It seems extravagant," I said.

"Actually, it's just normal, there's nothing fancy here at all," Bruno
said.  We walked by a mirror.  Bruno saw his reflection.  We had been all
over the building in the attic and basements and were covered in dirt.  In
the dimly illuminated monastery it wasn't a problem.  In the bright light
of the shower room, Bruno looked scary.  Bruno started when he saw himself.

"I look like I walked out of a Steven King horror movie," he said.

Richard laughed, then looked in the mirror at himself.  Wearing black is
not a good way to hide dirt.  We were all filthy.

"Maybe we'd better clean up before we ascent to the land of the living," I
said.  "I'd hate to scare the novices.  A shower is in order."

"I'd better get home," Bruno said.

"Hey, were in the showers, it won't help your clothes, but you face will be
a semi human at least," Richard said.  "Join us.  It will be like old times
at St.  Mary's School."

There were towels, so we stripped down and got under the water.  I had
forgotten anything could be that refreshing.  The dirt came off and made a
puddle on the floor.

"Damn, we're going to leave a ring!" Bruno cried.  I'm quite hairy; Richard
was very hairy; Bruno was gorilla-like.  He had a pelt.  For some reason my
cock began to rise.  I was embarrassed, but then I saw Richard's cock was
reacting the same way.

Bruno looked at us and smiled.  "This is going to be just like old times,"
he said.  His cock was buried in his thick pubic bush and was all but
invisible. A thick, hair-covered tube emerged from the bush. The pucker at
the tip began to part and his cock head appeared. I was large, strawberry
shaped and a beautiful shade of pink with a slight blue iridescence.

I had never thought of a cock as pretty before, but Bruno's cock was a
delicate rose in a thicket of hair. I don't know what got into me, but I
had an urge to kiss it.  Not only did I have the urge, I did it, in front
of Richard! If there ever was an occasion when the old abbot would rise
from the dead and strike me down, this was it.

Nothing happened.

Richard came over and put his arm around his cousin. "Damn, I always said,
if you don't scare them off they love you.  It looks like you've found
another lover."

"Milk it!"  Bruno moaned.  Milk it I did. As I sucked him, pre cum flowed
from his cock. The more it flowed, the more I wanted it.

I heard Richard ask, "Do you still have a short fuse?"

"Yes," Bruno answered.  "But not as short as it use to be." As he spoke,
cum flooded my mouth.  I had never tasted it before.  I kept on sucking
until the last drops oozed form his cock. Looking back, I should have been
shocked, but I wasn't.

"We hardly know each other," I said.

"Not yet, but we're going to be friends." Bruno replied.