Date: Sun, 15 Nov 2009 23:33:35 -0800 (PST) From: Peder Pederson <pederdagreat@yahoo.com> Subject: Genesis Chapter one A Genesis by D. V. Zomba Copyright 2006 Contents I. Before the Beginning 3 II. In the Beginning 11 III. After the Beginniung 31 IV. A new Beginning 46 I. Before the Beginning --Three years ago-- I sat there reading the pamphlet I had picked up in the library lobby. When going to the can, I generally read. Guess it has something to do with "waste not, want not!" I had taken the last stall as usual and as I sat down I noticed that a hole had been cut into the partition wall nearly a yard from the floor and about two-and-a-half inches in diameter. As I bent over, balancing my forearms on my legs, reading, my eyes were almost at a parallel with the opening. It was obvious that its existence had nothing to do with the facilitation of conversation between the two stalls. "Wonder when this happened?" I mused. I tend to be a creature of habit and when I do find a need to avail myself of the facilities in the library, I generally use this stall! I was here a few days previous and the hole was not there. "Bet this will drive the rector up the wall!" Just then the outer door opened. I heard footsteps. A guy entered the adjacent stall, bolted the door and I heard the telltale sound of a zipper being lowered. "Should I leave?" I wondered. Nope! I hadn't completed my initial, nature induced task! "Should I sit up?" Nope! I still had a little left to read. So I remained as I was. My peripheral vision detected a certain movement to the left, but I concentrated on my pamphlet. I did glance down and saw a shoe pointed towards the toilet. "Guess he's too shy to pee at the urinal!" But after nearly a half minute I did not hear the normal tinkling of water into water when a guy pees. Out of sheer curiosity I glanced to my left. There, framed in the circular hole was the profile of a partially nude male. The pants had been pushed down to mid thigh along with the underwear--boxers I think. I saw an expanse of thigh, lower stomach and penis and scrotum. The right hand was gently moving up and down the flaccid length of his dick! I saw that it was uncircumcised. I was a bit taken back at the guy's cheekiness. I was also a bit curious. Who wouldn't be? After all, my curiosity was quite natural, and, besides, no body would know that I am looking! That I am so occupied in this mildly weird viewing. So . . . . I watched! _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ In its softened state the silken, pliable skin looked like the softest, finest chamois. It was the color of light, honey taffy and appeared translucent. Fine, pale blue veins could be detected just below the surface. As the fingers moved up and down the shaft, the loose skin easily moved with the fingers and bunched somewhat at the base. The head was covered with an ample hood that revealed the glistening, pinkish-purple cock-head as it was pulled back. It was effortlessly concealed again as the clasping fingers moved towards the bulbous head pushing the excess in front of them and sliding the covering sheath over the knob. The foreskin easily covered the whole head, ending in a short, slightly frilled extension, which, unlike many uncut cocks, did not purse closed, but remained open, naturally. The glans was clearly large, even awesomely so. The corona flared dramatically and acted as a substantial base for the mushroom-like head that crowned the shaft. Even in a detumescent state, the extravagant covered, hooded cock-head appeared enormous and I am sure that it had been the subject of numerous, envious glances in the high school showers. I can remember Jim Lauder in high school, during the showers after gym class. He was a "jock" and was the envy of most of my classmates for the endowment he sported. Certainly, I suffered from a bit of envy! And, I can remember him standing there in the locker room talking to the teacher, completely nude and fondling his extension with no apparent self consciousness. When not in the shower, I, like most, kept myself demurely wrapped in my towel. Not Jim! _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ I observed that as the fingers continued traversing the length of the member it began to increase in length and girth. At first imperceptibly, but then it began to arch outward, insistently. The fingers continued their measured movement along the length of that expanding and lengthening shaft. Soon the member was hard, rampant, outstanding, upstanding and I observed a droplet of clear fluid appearing at the slit. I initially observed this tableau out of pure curiosity. But soon, I became aware that my own member was equally erect and insisting. Embarrassed at my own state, I wiped myself, quickly arranged my clothes, flushed the toilet and left hurriedly. --Thirteen years earlier-- The Hendrijk family lived in southeastern Wisconsin. Joe's maternal and paternal grand parents had immigrated from Holland, settled in Wisconsin, raised their families and survived the Depression. Their children dispersed except for Joe's parents who stayed in that area. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ "Joey, you'd better hurry, or you'll be late," I heard my mother call out. "I'm commin, Mom." I finished buttoning my shirt, grabbed the prayer book and raced down the stairs to the front door. Mom stood there as she did nearly every Sunday, to inspect me. She smiled, straightened an errant strand of hair and pushed me out the front door. "Better hurry, Joey, you know Fr. Owens demands punctuality," she called after me. "I know, Mom," I yelled over my shoulder as I started my one block trot to St. Victors. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ I had been an altar boy at St. Victor's since I was ten. I learned to enjoy it--putting on my red cassock, anticipating the next part of the mass, and the inevitable compliments from Fr. Owens afterwards in the vestry. I also remember the time that the paten slipped out of my hand and clattered to the floor. I was mortified! Tears streamed down my cheeks as I retrieved it and glanced guiltily at Fr. Owens. He merely frowned, and we continued. That never happened again! _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ I was the fifth of six children born to Hilda and Frank Hendrijk, and the last son. I had three older brothers, an older sister. The first five of the Hendrijk children were born two years apart--almost like clock work. I think I was supposed to be the last 'cause Mary, my little sister, was six years younger. As any youngest child, Mary was a bit spoiled. I had mentioned that once to my mother and she smiled at me and tousled my hair. "Not spoiled, Joey," she stated, and then as a further explanation, "Merely indulged." Somehow, the term "indulged" was never understood until I got older. Nontheless, there was ample love for all of the Hendrijk children--even with the "indulged" Mary! _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ I breathlessly ran into the vestry and stopped short. Fr. Owens was not there. In his place was another priest. As a creature of habit I was a bit surprised. I had expected Fr. Owens. "You must be Joseph Hendricks," he stated. "Joseph Hendrijk," I corrected. He smiled, "Fine. You'd better hurry Joseph Hendrijk," and then added, "I'm Fr. Haus." I nodded, "Fr. Haus." Hurriedly, I donned my red cassock and followed Fr. Haus into the sanctuary where I performed my duties efficiently. Back in the vestry, after mass, as I was changing, I asked, "Where's Fr. Owens?" "Fr. Owens took ill yesterday and the Bishop has assigned me to St Victor's to assist him." "How long will he be gone?" I asked. I liked Fr. Owens. Not only was he the priest of our parish, and had been ever since I could remember, he was also a grandfather figure for me as both my grandfathers had passed away years before. Fr. Owens was someone I found easy to talk with, particularly when it involved questions that I was not comfortable asking my parents about. He was never condescending to me. That is important to a boy my age. "He'll be gone about six weeks," answered Fr. Haus, "He needs a long rest." I hung my cassock in the closet and said, "I hope he gets better soon." Saying that I walked past Fr. Haus. He gave my butt a pat and said, "See you next Sunday, Joseph Hendrijk ." "Yes, Father." _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ After mass that next Sunday, Fr. Haus asked me, "Are you busy this coming Saturday, Joseph Hendrijk?" I don't know why he always called me, ''Joseph Hendrijk." He never used my first name, ever since our first introduction. "No, Father," I answered. "Well, if you don't mind, I need some help here and at the rectory . . . only a couple of hours at the most." "Ok, Father. What time?" "Would 2:00 be OK?" "Sure, Father. I'll be here," I answered as I left. "Good," he said and again patted my butt as I walked past. I never thought anything of the pats. My family was somewhat physical. Mom and dad would frequently tousel my hair or hugg me or pat me on the butt, affectionately. They did that to all of my siblings. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ That Saturday, I punctually arrived at the vestry. Fr. Haus was not there. I walked into the church which was also empty. I quickly walked to the rectory's front door and pushed the door bell. After a minute or so, Fr. Haus opened the door. "Ah, Joseph Hendrijk. So punctual! Come in. Mrs. Olson is off today. I'm all alone here." I stepped in and he patted my butt. He was wearing a long, heavy bathrobe that fell to his ankles and a pair of slippers peeked out. The bathrobe was carefully tied, but a bit of his bare chest showed in the "V." I was a bit embarrassed. I guess I must admit that I am basically a shy person, especially when around my elders. So the appearance of Fr. Haus in his bathrobe made my blush a bit. "I need some help upstairs," he announced and started to climb the steps in the hall. I followed. He opened a door and went in. I followed. Immediately I recognized that it was a bedroom. "Sit there, Joseph Hendrijk," he ordered, pointing to the bed. I did. Fr. Haus turned his back to me and I observed that he was untying the robe's sash. The robe was now hanging loosely on his shoulders. His hands were obscured, in front of him. Then he turned around! Fr. Haus' face was a mask as he stared at me. Almost instantly I was aware that the front of the robe was completely open and that Fr. Haus was naked underneath. My eyes widened and I felt my whole being flush. I was beyond embarrassment--I was shocked! At the base of his belly I saw a thick patch of dark hair and his 'thing' was sticking straight out! _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ My family was pretty reserved, certainly when it came to nakedness. In a house, such as my parents with six kids and only one bathroom, we were taught to be modest and always keep ourselves covered. I remember when I was about six, after my little sister's birth, my mother quietly and without any guilt stated to me, "Joey, you must remember now to be careful. You have a little sister. You must always keep your 'thing' covered." 'Thing,' of course referred to my penis. Even with my older brothers, there was always a sense of propriety, modesty. My two older brothers, Frank Jr., and Harald, shared a room. My next brother, Bert and I shared a smaller room. I think that only once or twice do I remember seeing Frank Jr. or Harald naked. Even Bert was assiduously proper. In our room, when we changed, we always faced away and quickly accomplished our task. Any references to our 'things' was never voiced in our home, or for that matter any reference to bodily functions and certainly never anything sexual. I remember once Harald said, "piss," about something in front of the assembled family. My father glared at him and announced, "YOUNG MAN, in this house such words are never uttered! Especially in front of your mother and sisters!" That was that! _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ We weren't necessarily prudes, at least I don't think so! We were just reserved when it came to the body, bodily functions and certainly, sex was not discussed openly. I remember Frank Jr. and Harald talking about their girlfriends from time to time. Once, Harald asked with a glint, "You gettin any?" I had no idea what he was referring to, but it must have been mildly taboo as Frank Jr. said, "SHH!" nodding to my presence and then, I thought I saw him wink at Harald. They laughed. Frank and Harald were the most outgoing boys of the four of us. Bert, less so, and I was the most quiet. I really didn't feel that anything was wrong with me, I just was naturally the quietest--maybe because I was the youngest boy. Mom always said that I took after my uncle Pete, Fr. Peter. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Then there were the times when I awoke in the morning with a 'stiffy'--that's what Harald called it the few times he saw me racing to the bathroom. It was always mildly embarrassing. I had never observed my brothers in that state. I assumed that I was the only one so afflicted. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ I was in a state of shock as Fr. Haus stepped over to the bed where I was sitting. His 'thing' jutting outward, large, hard and rather red. I had never seen a 'thing' in that state before, certainly not on a grown up! I thought it huge, almost monsterous in its rampant, pulsating state! My mouth went dry, I began to tremble and I felt my face flush even redder than before. "Touch it," he said. Touch it! Touch his 'thing!' I looked at it and then up to his face. He, too, was flushed, and his mouth was drawn into a strange smile. "Touch it!" he commanded. My heart was racing, I was scared, embarrassed and trembling as my eyes dropped again to that big, hard 'thing.' He stepped even closer and with a certain harshness, he stated, "TOUCH IT, Joseph Hendrijk!" His tone brooked no compromise, no refusal. I raised my trembling hand and lightly touched the bulbous, glistening end. Quickly I pulled away. Fr. Haus reached down, grabbed my trembling hand, brought it to his 'thing' and wrapped my fingers about its middle. It was so big that my fingers could not reach around it. It felt soft and and hot and smooth and hard all at once and was strangely pulsing to my touch. It jerked in my hand. My eyes widened in total disbelief and wondering what would happen next. I couldn't look at Fr. Haus, and I could not look at his 'thing'--so I merely stared blankly at the ceiling. "What does he want?" I thought. "Why is he having me do this? What did I do?" Again he grasped my hand and slowly drew it back and forth over the length of his 'thing.' Doing so, he groaned and his 'thing' jumped again. He dropped his hand and I stopped sliding my hand up and down his 'thing.' "Don't stop!" he rasped, "Keep doing it," he commanded with authority. Tentatively, I began again to move my hand up and down his 'thing' as tears suddenly spilled down my cheeks. Fr. Haus arched his back as his hips jutted forward. He groaned loudly and some milky juice flew out of his 'thing' hitting me in the face. I immediately let go of it as it continued to squirt out this juice! I was flabbergasted. I was confused. I was dumfounded. "What had happened?" I screamed to myself. Fr. Haus seemed to deflate. He backed away and his 'thing' too began to get smaller. He grabbed a box of kleenex from his dresser and wiped his 'thing.' Then he threw the box at me and commanded, "Wipe your face." When I finished wiping that sticky stuff from my face, Fr. Haus dismissed me. Quickly I left the rectory and went home. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ I can't say I was irrevocably traumatized, permanently scared, but twelve years of conditioning carries some weight. Confused? That I was! I was unnerved and bewildered. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ Two weeks later Fr. Haus inquired if I could come to the rectory the next Saturday. "I can't, Father. We're going to relatives that day," I lied. It was a lie that I never bothered to mention at confession. --Three years ago-- A few days later, I watched this incubus again! _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ I still observed that in its softened state the silken, pliable skin looked like the softest, finest chamois. Its softness demanded to be touched. It was the color of light, honey taffy and appeared translucent. Fine, pale blue veins could be detected just below the surface. As the fingers moved up and down the shaft, the loose skin easily moved with the fingers and bunched somewhat at the base. The cock-head was covered with an ample hood that revealed the glistening, pinkish-purple head as it was pulled back. It was effortlessly concealed again as the clasping fingers moved towards the bulbous knob sliding the covering sheath over it. The foreskin easily covered the whole cock-head, ending in a short, slightly frilled extension, which, unlike many uncut penises, did not purse closed, but remained open somewhat, naturally. The head was clearly large, awesomely so. The corona flared dramatically and acted as a substantial base for the mushroom-like head that crowned the shaft. Even in a detumescent state, the extravagant covered, hooded crown appeared massive and was the subject of numerous envious glances in the showers. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ I observed that as the fingers continued traversing the length of the member it began to increase. At first imperceptibly, but then it began to arch outward, insistently. The fingers of the incubus continued their measured movement along the length of that expanding and lengthening shaft. Soon the member was hard, rampant, outstanding. Soon, I became aware that my own member was equally erect. Still I watched, not without a nascent erotic interest. I slipped my right hand between my thighs and grasped my own hard 'thing,' fondling it in ways I had done in the past. The incubus turned and faced the hole. I was given a full, unimpeded view of that lavish, hard penis, head on. My eyes widened, somewhat surprised that he had somehow read my mind. "He must know I'm watching," I thought. A halo of dark, thick pubic hair encircled the base of that 'thing.' Hanging, luxuriously from that rigid pole was a pair of equally impressive balls encased in a thin sack of skin, lightly dusted with dark hair. My eyes traced over every bulge and fold as if memorizing it. I was aware that my interest was now more than merely clinical curiosity. My own rampant 'thing' reacted insistently to my encircling hand. I became aware of my level of desire and the initial cause of it. Disturbed at my reaction, I wiped myself, arranged my clothes, flushed the toilet and left hurriedly. I didn't even bother to wash my hands. --Eleven years earlier-- "Come on, Joe! Don't be a slow poke," Jeremy yelled over his shoulder as he and Duane raced into the woods. Quickly I followed. When I finally caught up to them, they had stopped. We stood in a small clearing and the sun dappled our faces and bodies. "Gotta piss," Duane stated and whipped out his penis and began to relieve himself without any timidity, whatsoever. "Me, too," Jeremy said and joined in. Truth be told, I did too. I turned, shielding myself from them and let loose a stream into the dried leaves. Lots of times, during out summer hikes we'd stop to relieve ourselves, but I always turned away. Guess it was my natural shyness. Duane and Jeremy always laughed about it. Suddenly Jeremy was standing besides me. "Hey, he's really got a cock!" Duane came up to the other side, "Sure does! And, it's big too!" I was in the middle of a much need piss and there was no way I could stop. "Bastards," I said and tried to hasten the process. Neither Duane nor Jeremy had returned their cocks to their pants. Jeremy, the more adventurous member of our little triad began to fondle his soft penis. Soon it was hard and he slowly began to wank it. Duane soon followed suit. The sight was too much for my adolescent brain and I too began to swell, cutting off my pissin in the process. "Damn!" Duane exclaimed, "Look at that wanker!" as he pounded his hardened adolescent cock. "Yeah!" was all Jeremy could say. He was fully concentrating on his own stiffened member. I too, began to run my fist up and down my erect pole, all modesty set aside. The truth was either I matured a bit earlier or my endowment was a somewhat more than theirs. I think the former was true. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ We had pissed together a number of times in our forays, but, during those times, no note was taken of my apparent modesty as I always turned away. We had even 'skinny dipped' a couple of times. I was always the last one in and modestly covered myself 'til I was in the water. Usually, by the time we left the water, I had lost a modicum of modesty--not covering myself. But I was always the first one dressed. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ As my hand moved over my hardened pole, I glanced from Jeremy's fisted member to Duane's, curious and a little stimulated at the sight of their manipulated cocks. Somehow the view of their hardened adolescent members stimulated mine and I exploded in short adolescent bursts of opalescent cum. Duane and Jeremy soon followed suit, although, I noticed that their 'explosions' were not a copious as mine. "Damn!" was all Jeremy said as we zipped up and continued our afternoon's exploring. Frequently from that time on, we would have these little 'circle jerks' whenever we took our summer hikes. However, by the time we were entering our senior year in high school, our forays into the woods and the 'circle jerks' tapered off and finally ceased. --Four years earlier-- Up to that point my development was relatively normal, at least normal for me. Other than that one encounter with Fr. Haus, and the circle jerks with Duane and Jeremy, my sexual knowledge was limited. Certainly, I had never had relations with a girl. So as i finished High School, I decided that I might consider the priesthood. Neither my mother or father were surprised or did they object. "It is a noble calling," my mother said. I was at the end of my Freshman year at St. Thomas. Things had gone relatively well. I had received a scholarship which was about the only way that I could financially attend college. Final exams were approaching and I was determined to do well. I had spent long hours at the library preparing for my exams. One night, upon returning to the dorm, I decided to take the river path--a narrow, little used foot trail that snaked its way along the bluff--back to the dorm. I had hardly walked five minutes along this way when I thought I heard muffled voices ahead. Not being particularly bold or aggressive, I slowed my paced and peered through the relative darkness of that Spring evening. As I came around a bend, I spied in the gloom two forms ahead. I stopped and tried to focus on the forms. I observed two forms, two shadows, as it turned out, two guys standing there in the darkness. One bent over grasping the trunk of a small tree and the other behind him The one standing behind the other, I could see, was moving back and forth against the other. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know what was going on. I froze in place and observed this primordial act as one guy's hips pistoned behind the other. My worldly education, to that point, as I said, had been rather limited. Still, I knew what was going on. They were fucking--at least one was fucking the other. It reminded me for all the world of a couple of neighborhood dogs! Part of me wanted to turn and run, but the other part--at that point the major part--caused me to stand firm and observe. Gasps and moan issued from both participants. Soon, I heard an elemental gasp as the pistoning member of the duo gave one last monumental thrust and stood still, gasping. The passive member stood up, pulled up his pants, fastened them and moved off down the path. The active member, the taller of the two pulled something from his pocket--I assume kleenex or a handkerchief--wiped his . . . cock, deposited it back in his pants, zipped up and followed the other at some distance I was trembling. I trembled even more when I realized that I was aroused. I waited until my being had returned to some semblance of normality, and then quietly continued to the dorm. Whoever these two were, I had no idea. However, I thought, they must be students at St. Thomas as few others were aware of this path. That incident left an indelible mark on my mind--not necessarily negative, but, also not altogether positive, either. _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ One month later my parents were killed in a freak car accident.