Date: Thu, 21 May 2015 00:35:17 +0000 (UTC)
From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com>
Subject: Satan's Work 3

This story involves explicit homosexual sex and Satanism in a Christian
community in the Southern United States.  Several things to be offended by.
So if you are underage or object to reading about such things, be warned.
Read no further.

If you are reading further, please contact me, let me know how you like the
story and make suggestions.  All your mail will be answered.
macoutmann@yahoo.com.

Places in this story are real, but the characters and events are totally
fictional.

The stories published on nifty.org are made possible by the contributions
of readers like you.  Please make a donation to keep this service viable.

Copyright 2015 by Macout Mann.  All rights reserved.


                                     SATAN'S WORK

                                    by Macout Mann



                                      Chapter 3


Harold told his parents that his shirt had been torn when he slipped and
fell among some brambles.  His mother said that he had to be more careful,
clothes didn't grow on trees.  Harold couldn't help but remember what
Timothy had said.  "We lie, cheat, steal, and covet."

Harold did feel dirty because of what had happened.  He felt that he should
confess, but he also remembered Timothy's threat.  Most of all he ached to
once again feel the thrill of orgasm.  Over the next day or two the
frequency and intensity of his hards-on exponentially increased.  He
finally was driven to start playing with himself.  On the third day he
brought himself to completion.  It was glorious.

At church Sunday he realized that Timothy was staring.  Once he even
winked.  As they were leaving, he saw Timothy grin at him as his hand
casually brushed his crotch.  Harold promised himself that he'd not beat
off any more.

His resolve lasted not twenty-four hours.  He spilled his essence in the
tub while he was taking a bath.

On Tuesday he got up the courage to talk to his friend, Mose.

"I gotta ask you something," he began.  "Do you beat off?"

Mose pretended not to understand.  "What d'ya mean?"

"You know.  Play with your peter."

Mose didn't know what to say.  "Do you?" he asked.

Harold was silent for a minute, then "Uh, huh," he admitted.  "I just
started to, and I can't stop."

"My cousin from Chattanooga came to visit last summer.  He got me into
jacking off," Mose said.  "I've never told anybody I was doing it.  If the
folks ever found out, Lord help me."

They swore each other to secrecy and had a mutual masturbation session.
Harold didn't even know what to call what they were doing, but he still
couldn't help wondering what Mose would do, if he happened to reach for his
friend's pecker.



Thursday Harold went roaming in the woods for the first time since his
encounter at Satan's Lair.  He had told himself he was not going anywhere
near the cave, but he seemed drawn in that direction.  He found himself
creeping down the passageway toward the chamber where once again the
torches were lighted.

This time Timothy was with two brothers from Parksville, Bret and Jim
Carson.  They were 14 and 13 and were not the sort of boys that guys like
Harold were supposed to associate with, unless they had to.  This time
Timothy knew exactly who the intruder was.

"You know you're not to come in here, unless you are naked, Harold.
Strip!" Timothy ordered.

Harold reluctantly removed his clothes and folded them neatly.  While he
was doing so, Timothy made the introductions.  "Boys, you know Harold
Baxter, don't you?" he said.

"Goddam, I'd never of expected to see you here, Harold," Bret said.

"Harold is just getting his feet wet," Timothy explained.  "This afternoon
he's going to suck his first dick, aren't you Harold?"

"Uh..." Words failed Harold.

Timothy grasped his tool.  "Here it is, Harold.  Don't be shy.  These boys
have seen it all."

Harold was afraid to bolt.  He knew he couldn't escape with his clothes.
And they'd surely catch him anyway.  Besides, Timothy's big prong had a
hypnotic effect on him.  As if in a trance he moved in front of the
seventeen-year-old and touched the object that was being offered to him.
Timothy grabbed his shoulders and pushed him to his knees.  "You know you
want to taste it.  You know you want to eat your master.  Suck me, Harold."

Harold's tongue flicked the head of Timothy's dick.  It tasted of precum.
It didn't taste bad.  He licked further.

"Take it all, motherfucker.  Eat my dick like it was a popsickle," Timothy
urged.

"Yeah.  Suck the son-of-a-bitch 'til he shoots," Jim echoed.

Timorously Harold forced his lips around Timothy's pole and slid down its
length.

"Careful," Timothy said.  "Don't bite."

The dick had a musky, masculine flavor.  Harold sort of liked it.  He
slowly started to massage Tim's fleshy tube, savoring the taste like it was
a new kind of pie.  Timothy thrust his hips like he had when Amos had taken
him.  It was obvious he was well on the way to dropping a hot load.  As
Harold got into the spirit of giving head, his movements became more
forceful and faster.  Again Timothy grabbed his sucker's head and began to
ravenously fuck face.  He exploded without warning, saying "Pull back so
you can taste my cum and swallow it all.  It'll put hair on your chest."

Harold wasn't surprised by the pungent taste of Timothy's cream.  He had
already sampled some of his own.

The two onlookers cheered as Harold took Timothy's load.  Timothy pulled
Harold to his feet and showed his appreciation by cupping the younger boy's
testes and fingering his hard shaft.

"Harold likes to get sucked," Timothy announced.  "Jim, give him some
head."

The youngest member of the group didn't have to be urged.  He immediately
went down on Harold before he realized what was happening.  Again he
experienced the ecstasy he had felt when Amos gave him his first blow job.
And both Timothy and Bret enhanced the experience by using their fingers
and lips on his ears, chest, navel, and ass crack.

"You did good," Timothy told Harold.  "I knew you'd be back.  We'll be
meeting Saturday at two.  Join us.  I'll be baptizing Jim.  Remember to
leave your clothes at the entrance to the cave."

"I'll try to come," Harold said.

He methodically dressed, while the three others continued to cavort.  For
some reason he didn't quite feel the shame that he had before.