This is an M/b story about a man and some boys having sex.  You
like such stories?, read on.  If not, then what are you even doing here?


                      GIVING IT ALL AT CHURCH
                     =========================

Believe it or not, once upon a time I used to go to this really
big church in town.  It was one that had one of those faith healers
that drew really big crowds from mostly the lower economic brackets.

Well, one day I decided to volunteer for some work, so they made me
an usher.  The gave me a sport coat and a quick lesson on what to
do and assigned me to one of the six sets of doors in the back of
the auditorium.

When the preaching started, most of the ushers would sit close to
their assigned spots, some would go drink a cup of coffee and then
return, and now and then one would just leave to go home if was
already late.  I would normally just sit and wait until the end of
the service and say goodbye to the folks exiting through my door.

One Sunday morning, during the preaching, this really handsome boy
gingerly slid down the row of seats, exited through my door to the
lobby and was gone for maybe 15 minutes before he returned.  This
wasn't unusual; everybody has to shit once in a while, so there
wasn't any reason for me to distinguish him from some old man,
except for me being a closet pedophile.

That Sunday's sermon was lost on me because most of my thoughts
were about what that boy was doing in the restroom so long.  All
I could imagine him doing was stroking his rod and shooting his
wad all over the shiny floors.

It was my turn to usher that Sunday evening, too.  So there I was
sitting in the back again when the preacher started his sermon.
Just a couple minutes later, the same boy slides out of what I
think was the same isle, walks past me and heads into the lobby.
Without even thinking about it, the next thing I find myself doing
is walking out of the door and following the boy into the restroom.

He walks over to one of the urinals and I stand at the one next
to him (they unfortunatly have partitions between them).  I start
the conversation with "Hi! Didn't I see you here this morning?"
Startled, he looks over and says "Yea, I was here this morning,
but I don't remember seeing you in here."  "Oh no, I wasn't talking
about the bathroom, I just saw where you sat in the auditorium."
"Oh! Sorry.  Yea, me and my folks have been coming here for a
couple of weeks now."  Some more conversation ensued and we
spent the next 15 minutes standing at the urinals talking about
nothing that matters except that the boy was 14 and his name is
Josh.

The next Sunday morning was a repeat.  Josh walked out after
the sermon started and I followed him into the bathroom, we
stood at our assigned urinals and talked about stuff important
to him, like that he had never had a girlfriend, he went to
a private school and had no real friends in his neighborhood.
I related that I'd rented a movie the night before and got home
with it and discovered that there was an X-rated porno flick
in the box rather than the PG rated movie that I'd rented.
He asked if I'd watched it, and I told him that I had, but
not to tell anyone.  He asked if the movie "showed everything"
to which I told him that it left nothing to the imagination.

It was getting harder and harder for me not to come out and
ask Josh if I could suck him off.  Josh was the cutest and
hottest boy I'd talked with in a long time.  He stood about 5'6",
maybe 120 pounds, longish blond hair and he had a hot shapely
little ass stuffed in his pants.  I kept wishing that he'd let
me see his no doubt lovely cock.  After all, he certainly should
have known that something was up.  Grown men don't usually meet
teen boys in bathrooms just for conversation.

The following Sunday evening when we went to the restroom,
after we both had finished peeing, I suggested that we walk
upstairs where the sunday school classes happen (only in the
morning).  While we were stolling down the deserted hallway
talking, he saw another bathroom and went inside.  I went in
too.  He walked in and started tugging at his jeans.  I asked
him, "What's up?"  He said, "These are my favorite jeans and I
like 'em tight, but I think maybe they're getting a little too
tight."  As he continued to twist and tug I asked "Where are
they too tight at?  They look fine to me."  "See, they are
pressing against my belly."  He lifted his shirt revealing his
smooth taught tummy.  "I bet you couldn't even slip your hand
in here if you tried," he continued, pointing to beneath his
belly button.  "Yea, they look pretty tight," I agreed.  "Try
it, see if you can get your fingers in here," he requested.

This was as clear an invitation to feel him up as I had ever
heard.  I stepped closer and put the tips of my fingers against
his warm belly just above his closed tight jeans.  I slowly
moved them down, plowing their way beyond Josh's waistband.
I kept pushing more of my hand down until I began to detect
some pubic hair at the end of my fingers.  Only millimeters
remained until I reached his manhood.  One more little push and
contact, his hardening prick was between two of my fingers.

"I think I know why your pants are seeming so tight, its because
you've got something growing in there," I said with a smile.
"Yea, it has been getting bigger lately.  Especially when I
visit the bathroom with you," he answered with a grin.  The
next 30 seconds were a blur, but they ended with us in a stall,
his jeans at his knees, and my mouth filled with his thin 6
inches of uncircumsized boycock.  I gently fingered his low
hanging hairless balls as his rod slid back and forth against
my tongue.

When the service ended that night, I wasn't quite as vocal in
saying goodnight to the folks in my section.  I didn't want
them to smell the load of boycum that had filled my mouth only
five minutes before the meeting ended.

The next Sunday morning, as I was sucking my new favorite friend
he told me that he might have a surprise for me that night.  When
evening rolled around, I ushered in my section as normal.  When
the time came for visitors to raise their hands, a hand went up
close to where Josh sits.  When the visitor card was passed to
me, I was supposed to turn it in with the offering; instead I
read it.  It was from a 13-year-old boy named Marty.  In the
space on the card where it asked why they were visiting were the
words "I want to experience the same thing my friend Josh has."

When the sermon started, two boys slipped into the isle.  They
didn't return until after they had both given their best to an
usher in an upstairs bathroom.

				-- Keith