Date: Fri, 1 Jul 2011 12:34:19 +0100
From: Philip Burbidge <philipadrian@live.co.uk>
Subject: 'The Priest and the Choirboy'     Adult-Youth   M/b

This story involves sex between an adult and a minor.  If this offends you
or is illegal where you live then read no further.  The story is entirely
fictional and based on wishful thinking.  The acts described below should
not be copied or emulated with a minor.

I find the idea of being molested by a horny priest very `stimulating'.  If
you do too or are a priest who likes young boys, please share your thoughts
and fantasies with me at philipadrian@live.co.uk

Comments and feedback welcome.  Discretion guaranteed.

_________________________________________________________________


The notion of a priest having sex with a young boy, excites many to an
ecstasy of indignation, with visions of a dirty old man, using his position
of authority to corrupt an innocent young boy.  Perhaps, because of my
experiences with Father Murphy, I have a different perspective on the
topic.  To begin with, Fr. Murphy was neither dirty nor old and I was a far
from unwilling participant!  Aged thirty-two, when our relationship began,
Fr. Murphy was not over tall at 5' 8", but broad, stocky and fairly
muscular, with a mop of almost black, curly hair and a pleasant, open
countenance that made him very popular amongst his female parishioners --
and some of the men too!

I was only five when Fr. Murphy became our parish.  My initial reaction was
not overtly sexual, but took the form of my wishing to be close to him and
win his approval.  I liked to look at him.  When I was seven, he took us
children on a Sunday school trip for the day to the seaside.  That was the
first time I saw him in `civvies', not wearing his usual floor-length black
cassock.  Instead, he was wearing a`t' shirt that showed off his physique
and indicated a pleasantly hairy chest, and a pair of shorts that revealed
his dark, muscular, hairy legs and a gentle bulge in his crotch that spoke
of a fair-sized cock.  I couldn't help but gaze at him.  After this, I was
troubled with `unwholesome' thoughts.  What exactly did he usually wear
underneath his cassock?  What did he look like naked?  What was his willy
like?  These thoughts crowded my mind unbidden, especially when I was alone
in bed.  They made my own willy stiffen and when I squeezed and rubbed it,
it felt good and made me think about Fr. Murphy even more!

When I was eight, going on nine, a treble in the church choir had to leave
when his voice broke.  As I had developed a strong treble voice, I was
happy to be recommended for the vacancy.  I subsequently auditioned for
Fr. Murphy, who trained the choir and Mr. Kent, the church organist, who
often played the piano for him.  Having been accepted, I turned up for the
Wednesday evening rehearsal, to discover that the boy I had replaced, was,
also, the choir librarian.  As it allowed me to spend time alone with
Fr. Murphy, I volunteered to take over the task.  It was not an onerous
job, involving getting to Mass and rehearsals a few minutes early, to put
out the music and stay afterwards to put it away.

On the first day of my new duties, I had to replace sheet music on the top
shelf of a cupboard in Fr. Murphy's vestry and office, which I could only
reach by means of a small set of steps.  I asked Fr. Murphy to hold the
steps for me while I put the music away.  As I backed down the steps, I
slipped on the penultimate step.  Fr. Murphy's reflex action was to catch
me by wrapping his arms around my waist.  It felt warm and snug.  I
lingered in his arms.

That night in bed, I thought about Fr. Murphy's strong embrace and his hot
breath on the back of my neck.  My willy hardened and I rubbed & squeezed
it repeatedly, thinking all the time about Fr. Murphy.

The following week, I repeated the slip, this time on purpose.  Fr. Murphy
duly caught me and I pressed myself against him, lingering just a little
longer than I ought.  The third week, I did the same.  I swear I could feel
something hard pressing into my back, so I pressed back even harder against
it.  Maybe Fr. Murphy gets hard, too!  His willy must get really big!
Alone in bed with these naughty thoughts, I rubbed my stiff little willy
`til it was sore and tingling.  On the fourth week, I slipped on purpose
again.  This time there was no mistake.  Fr. Murphy's hard dick was
definitely sticking into my back!  I pushed hard against it and
Fr. Murphy's right hand, which had been holding me steady round the waist,
slipped down to my groin.  He fondled my genitals and groped my stiff
little prick through my trousers.

"I thought so!" said Fr. Murphy, "You're hard and horny.  I thought as much
last week but there's no mistaking it now."

I slithered round in his arms and buried my face in his chest.

"I want it, but I don't know what to do!" I cried.

"OF course you don't!" he replied kindly, "The question is, do you want me
to teach you?"

"Oh, yes, please!" I exclaimed, "What do I do?"

Fr. Murphy didn't reply.  He just lifted his cassock up over my head.

"That's what you want, isn't it?  Say `hello' to my cock.

I sank to my knees and met 6.5" of his thick man cock, for the first time,
sticking out of his blue boxer shorts. I ground my face into the forest of
dark brown pubes and pressed his meaty cock into my cheek.

Fr. Murphy stroked my head and ran his fingers, gently, through my hair.

"Good boy!  It's alright.  I won't hurt you.  Let's take things slowly".

Then, with his back against the door, he put his hand behind his back and
turned the key in the lock, to ensure that we weren't disturbed.  Next, he
unbuckled my trouser belt and undid the clasp at the top of my grey school
trousers, unzipped them and pulled them and my underwear down to my knees.
He took my stiff little boy prick between his thumb and forefinger and
began to gently rub up and down.

"We call this masturbating or wanking. It feels great when you do it
yourself and even better when someone else does it for you," he explained.

"That feels wonderful!" I cooed, "Would you like me to do it to you?"

I took Fr. Murphy's thick dick in my little fist and began masturbating
him.  My hand couldn't stretch all the way round it, it was so thick!

"Oh!  That's great!" he moaned, "Now why don't you pop my willy in your
mouth.  It tastes really good!  Here, let me show you."

He bent down and took my entire cock in his mouth, including my little
hairless balls, which clung like limpets to the base of my boycock.  He
swirled them round in his mouth, rubbed them with his tongue and drilled
the end of his tongue into my piss-slit, keeping his teeth well out of the
way.  I was in Heaven.  I had never experienced such pleasure in my short
life!  I swooned.

"Would you like to try it?  It's called `sucking'", he said, as he came up
for air.

Overcoming my natural repugnance -- willies > toilets > germs etc... I
went for it and wrapped my lips around his knob-head, cramming as much cock
into my mouth as possible. He sighed with pleasure and began moving his
cock in and out of my mouth, his big, hairy, spunk-filled balls bouncing on
my chin.  Then he leant over me while I was engrossed in sucking his cock
and started stroking my smooth little bum, sliding his hand into the
arse-crack and fingering my arsehole.

"This is your boycunt.  One day soon, I would like to put my cock up your
boycunt and give us both a good time.  It's called `fucking'.  I would love
to fuck you!  But right now I need to cum with your help.  That means
shooting white stuff out of your cock called `semen' or `sperm' but we
usually call it `cum' or `spunk'.  Would you like to help me spunk?"

"Oh, yes!" I cried, not knowing what to expect and relieved that he wasn't
going to try to push his big cock up my small, tight, virgin boycunt there
and then.

Instead, he pulled his cock out of my mouth, turned slightly away from me
and began vigorously wanking his cock, getting faster and faster.

"You fondle my balls, gently, while I wank and grope you."

As he masturbated and fondled me, his face reddened, his breathing became
erratic and all of a sudden he stopped wanking.

"I'm cumming!  I'm fucking cumming!!" he shouted and several jets of thick,
milky-white spunk shot up out of his cock into the air and landed several
yards away on the varnished wooden floor where they formed a pool of
spunk. Then he resumed wanking and more spunk shot out and yet more!
Finally, he was spent and the last few drops dribbled out of his cock over
his fingers.

"That was great!  I needed that!" he exclaimed, breathlessly.

I was gobsmacked, and just stared at Fr. Murphy's dripping cock and the
pool of cum. Gradually, his breathing returned to normal as did his
complexion.

"You'll be able to do that when you're older.  For now, it's the job of
little boys like you to learn all about man/boy sex, learn to enjoy
yourself and please men like me!  Now I'd better clean up and you had
better get along home before your parents wonder where you've got to.
We'll continue your sex lessons next week, if you want?"

"Oh, yes, please!" I responded, enthusiastically, "I want to learn
everything you can teach me!"

I made myself decent before skipping off home with the taste of man cock on
my lips and the vision of Fr. Murphy's spunking cock in my head. I couldn't
wait for him to teach me more about sex and cock fun!


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Comments & feedback welcome at philipadrian@live.co.uk