Date: Thu, 11 May 2017 10:16:25 -0400
From: Orson Cadell <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: The Heathens 17

Please see original story
(www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/historical/the-heathens/) for warnings and
copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex
between young-adult and adult men. Go away if any of that is against your
local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but
flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Donate to Nifty
**TODAY** at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.

*****

This second round took far longer as Harcos teased and nibbled my dick and
played a variety of tunes on my love button. I was still aware as I reached
the second crescendo, and knew exactly what would please my Aldus most. As
my balls pulled up, I took in a huge breath. "Ow, ow, owOO!" a very happy
puppy-wolf howled into the night over and over. I felt Harcos laugh around
my spurting seed. "OW, OW, OWOOOOOOOO!"

*****

The Heathens 17: And the Word was God

By Bear Pup

*****

I was literally bouncing with energy the next morning as I drained Harcos
of his piss and his seed. I'd found that his taint and tiny little strokes
across his ass drove him wild and his fingers began to probe my still-slick
asshole before he finally erupted. Harcos was laughing and slapping at me
as I almost forced him into his travelling kit and donned my own before
running to the bushes to relieve myself.

The Ox, my Volot, was up when I returned, trying to make the fire work
again. He was quite obviously the worse for wear, the opposite of my own
reaction to the evening before. Apparently, his own rehabilitation sex had
lasted far longer, or at least taken a lot out of him. I shooed him off and
got the fire stoked and the water to boil as the Pyrkagia emerged with a
palmful of small nuts or large seeds I'd never seen the like of. He
distributed them amongst the bowls, two by two as we waited for the water.

Stelio had apparently left long before dawn; he suddenly emerged into the
clearing with a small deer carcass over his shoulders. It had been
field-dressed and he proceeded to hang it from a staff on his cart to
drain. He and Pyrkagia shared a touch and a smile before the 'young' man
handed the warrior a cup of steeped tea which Stelio drank greedily and
sighed.

Pameten and Harcos were already at work dismantling the camp, including
Stelio's in recognition of the work the young warrior had expended in the
hunt that would make our uncertain, southward route more secure. Whatever
magic Pyrkagia's nuts held was revealed as we felt a sense of calm
excitement and boundless energy descend upon us all. The diminutive
sorcerer had also worked with Volot to fill every waterskin and container
at the nearby spring, as there was no way to know how far apart
watercourses might be.

We headed south across some trails that looked more appropriate for goats
than carts, but the hard-packed earth of the valley floor made for smoother
than expected travel. What we did not have and sorely missed was shade. The
air was hot and still and filled to overflowing with mosquitoes, midges and
biting flies. Pyrkagia did not ride covered on the cart this day. Instead,
he walked ahead of us with a tiny censer that put out a nearly-clear smoke
with an odd, lemony scent. The effect was instantaneous. The insects fled
as if by magic, only the occasional and irrepressible horsefly needed a
swat.

As midday approached, Harcos set the cart-tent as an awning of sorts to
provide shade for our meal of venison steak. It was another long march,
perhaps three hours, when we saw the first of the two ridges we needed to
penetrate rise before us. As expected, the strong river we walked along had
cut a path through it, but all the warriors stared with slitted eyes at the
narrow path. Volot and I shared a look as the warriors turned and we
retraced our steps to a small stream we'd crossed about two stadia back
where we pitched camp.

Pameten and Stelio set about skinning and butchering the deer while
Pyrkagia and Volot built a large, roaring fire for coals. My master and I
deployed all three tents. The light an airy mood imparted by the mystic
beans had fled hours before, but at least Pyrkagia's magical censer kept
the bugs at bay. I reached down to grab the stakes and bells and Harcos
coughed. I looked up and he was busily pretending to tie a knot. He
hand-signed to me. They Watch. Walk as Normal. Do Not Look. I took 'walk as
normal' to mean work just as we always would; the hand signals had been for
when we approached a populated settlement and the dangers therein.

When done, I moved to help with the fire and Pyrkagia darted off,
apparently to find sweet herbs or green wood for smoke. Volot was tense,
obviously warned by one of the others, trying desperately not to look every
direction at once.

It was perhaps an hour until dusk when the Stelio began bringing us meat in
long, thin slabs. He and Pyrkagia shared a long look and Stelio returned to
their cart and returned with a set of poles. The Ox and I just stared as he
tied the slabs to the poles. Surely that dry word would turn to cinders in
no time. Pyrkagia was busy setting up several sticks that looked almost
exactly like the crutches Harcos had cut for Strasta.

I felt a huge pang as I realised it had been perhaps a week since I thought
of the young man who had negotiated my salvation.

*****

STRASTA

*****

I watched the damned little imp walk away with the man I'd loved more than
any father, the man I readily offered my life for in battle. The man-child
could not wrench his eyes away from Harcos, nor could I blame him. I
watched until they were out of sight and my tears had dried.

Was I angry? More than I could possibly imagine, and disappointed and
horrified at my fate. But none of those were aimed at the spirit of my
master. That he would leave me here was an inevitable as the sunrise or the
return of Our Lord Jesus Christ to lead us all to a thousand years of
peace. My leg would heal, certainly. I was a healer and knew this to be
true. But I also knew that the fucking little Utik filth had severed a
half-dozen ligaments in his long slash. I would heal, but never again could
I march at a warrior's pace, nor defend my master's back in battle.

The little pissant had backbone, that was certain. And he obviously had a
lifetime of love to give my master for none of it had found a place in this
wretched hovel. I turned to find the family, to my consternation, still
arguing. Several had been banished to chores, but the parents and the
eldest children bickered like badgers. Such disunion and chaos would be a
problem... or an opportunity.

They silenced like a knife dropped as I hobbled through the doorway. I
sighed. I was already their enemy, but that really was not that strange a
position to find myself in. The difference here was, for the first time, I
had no Harcos. I had not his strength of body, of will, of spirit. One
thing I had learned from him, though, was the power of faking it.

I turned to the eldest son who simply glared. "You are Inkar? He took a
moment, as my speech was obviously broken. "Will you walk with me?" He
nodded and moved to me, a flurry of hissing whispers erupting in his
wake. Ayib had chosen an apt metaphor, nest of vipers indeed.

"You are Inkar to the Heathens. I am Strasta. Within the Brotherhood of
Christ, I am Matthaios. Will you honour me with your true name?" He
considered.

"I am Aleti in the fold, my brother Mathhaios. I am the rock upon which I
pray God may choose to build." What a pompous ass. He was smaller than I,
but broad of shoulder. His hands and feet were smallish, and his legs lithe
and limber. Not one for the hard work, this Aleti.

"I sense your leadership, Aleti." Actually, I sensed his obstinacy and
desire for tyranny. He puffed nonetheless. "Tell me of the family that I
may yet choose to join." He was shrewd this one, and I chose my words
carefully.

"Mother is the pillar of faith, but prone to anger. Father is a foundation
upon which the family is built but loses his mastery. I do what I can as a
humble and unworthy servant of the One True God. Ismet will do well for--"

"We will not speak of Ismet or what any think will be good for me, my
brother." He bridled at my tone of warning. "Why does Father not take
additional wives and co-husbands?"

He openly sneered now, "You must be of a heretic band who thinks such
things are permissible. One man and one woman, as Adam had his Eve. Of
course, much allowance must be given as you have obviously been a zanahben
to that fil--" His words ended abruptly with a loud slap across his face.

"Listen to me, you backwoods bastard. I have been no one's whore, and
Harcos is one of the most just and holy men I've known even though he has
not yet given himself to Christ's salvation. And do not DARE quote of
Deuteronomy and Leviticus to me, you unlettered prick, while we stand
downwind of the pigs you keep for slaughter and for meat." He stood,
originally outraged and now stunned.

"I may have to hobble to do it, but with God the Father watching my hand I
will gut you and feed your innards and your soul to the unclean creatures
you foster in blasphemy. Preach at me again, you disgusting child, and you
have better be certain that scripture is on your side.

I let my voice drop back to calm and business-like, as if an eclipse had
ended as suddenly as it had come, knowing how disconcerting and shocking
such shifts could be. "So, you practice monogamy. It is not forbidden in
scripture, of course, but seems an odd way to fulfil so many of God's
commands. No matter." Aleti's eyes were round orbs, completely at a loss to
follow my shifting and darting topics.

"You are proficient in Christian Love, are you not? Skilled in the arts of
Brotherhood and the sacred joining of congregation?" He stared,
baffled. "You surely share the touch of brotherhood amongst family?"

"T-touch? No, my br-brother. Touch is forbidden. Touch is the tool of the
Great Enemy. We do not touch, ever!" By Noah's holy and productive balls!
Ayib was RIGHT?!? They throw away God's greatest gift and Christ's
most-sacred message, that love MUST be shared between and within and across
and throughout the Flock? That nothing is greater than the Communion and
the holy Congress at the heart of every Christian Congregation. Okay, time
to switch track.

"How many True families are there in this place?"

"O-O-Only ours, M-Matthaios."

"Well, then it would seem monogamy a wise choice... for now. So where is
your wife?"

He stared at me blankly. "M-My wife?"

"You are the eldest son." I explained as if to a slow child... which
appeared to be not far from the mark. "I know for a simple fact that your
younger brother is a man already, so you must be. Where is your wife?"

He flushed and the outrage took the fore, pushing aside his stunned
acceptance of my assumed position of authority. "I have no wife and that is
mete and just! You overstep yourself, 'brother'," the sneer was back, "for
I am the rock upon which God has chosen to--"

"Crap! You, in this little hill encampment, this hovel, are greater than
Adam? Than Noah? Than Abraham and Ishmael? Than Jacob and Joseph? Than
Isaac himself? And that is just in the first book of His Holy Word!" His
jaw was dropped and eyes wide.

"Every one -- EVERY one of them, 'brother' -- was told by God Himself to be
fruitful and multiply! Where are your sons to strengthen the One True
Faith? Where are your daughters to bring for new life? YOU MOCK THE ONE
TRUE GOD!" He gawped at me. I felt a smile grow within me that I hid
beneath the fiercest scowl Harcos ever taught me.

There are many things that can be said about the Latin of the Heathens of
Rome. It is wordy, ugly, boring and flat. It is also wonderfully
sonorous. I lowered my voice and let the sounds ring, my voice rising in
power with each word. "In principio enim VERBUM. et DEUS erat Verbum. DEUS
erat Verbum"

"W-w-w-what are you d-doing?" What I was doing was reciting one of my
favourite verses of all the Testaments, the beginning of Gospel of John the
Evangelist.

"I *warned* you and your nest of vipers not to test me. I am initiated into
deeper mysteries than you know. You have forsaken even Genesis! You have
forsaken the Touch of the Brotherhood in Christ! You DARE to pretend to the
One True Faith? Pretend even to be a foundation upon which God might build?

"In principio creavit DEUS!!"

"W-w-w-?" His eyes were now huge with panic. I had called out his ignorance
of scripture. I had punctured his false pride. I had put the lie to his
family's perversion of the Faith. His breath came short and fast, eyes
darting in desperation. Well that's just fiiiiiiine.

"I pronounce your DOOM, lest you grow to further pollute and corrupt the
One True Faith!" I allowed my chest to swell and tried to hide the wince as
my leg screamed at me. "omnia per ipsum FACTA sunt et sine ipso FACTUM est
nihil quod FACTUM **EST**!!"

"No! No! I repent. I repent! Please, Mattaios, please!"

"in ipso VITA erat et VITA erat LUX hominum!

"You repent but will not reform! You are PRIDE! You are CONCEIT! You are
CORRUPTION!

"et LUX in tenebris LUCET et tenebrae eam non CONPREHEN--" He fell and
clutched at me and it was all I could do not to scream in agony. It was
worth it, though, as I listened to him babble. I 'let' him guide me to a
convenient stump and sit me there, promising, well, everything. I put my
hand to his forehead to stem the stream of begging.

"You will amend your wickedness?" He cried, nodding and affirming each
thing I said. "You will find humility in Christ? You will return to the
Fold in act instead of mere words? You will find a wife, strong and hearty
to fulfil God's command?"

"Yes, brother, yes! Yes!"

"You claim the Brotherhood name of Aleti, the rock akin to the Holy Peter,
Shemayon Keppa himself? Do you know what about Peter the Lord Incarnate
saw? He saw a man of humility, faith and obedience. You have one, faith,
but have forsaken the other two. Christ saw a man who would gladly bring
himself low so as to support the Church itself. Nothing is lowlier than a
rock, my brother. I do not withdraw my doom, but I postpone its
completion. Do more than repent -- reform -- and I will only then withdraw
it." The vision I had before as I watched the family scratching and
strutting, of them as chickens in a yard, came back as I watch this
grovelling man bobbing his head as a hen with fresh grain.

"Go this moment to the hovel and bring to me the book!" Cuz, to be
perfectly honest, I couldn't have walked more than a few steps at that
point without falling over. "Bring it here, and with it water to sooth the
throat."

He scurried off and I finally allowed the wicked and holy smile (yes, one
can be both those things at once) to spread. One perverts the One True
Faith at one's peril, for only in its completion is God manifest. I had
heard recently of several sects who ignore entire gospels, relying on four
or even one! I found that this little pocket of hell was just as bad in a
different way when Inkar returned (Aleti, indeed!).

As was common, he held a box of hand-written copies, most in a cramped and
hurried hand. Thank heaven one of them, at least, could read! There were
the tell-tale signs of intense wear from years of use. To be fair, it was a
nice box to hold the Book, with some rather impressive woodwork and
chasing.

What was within, though, nearly brought me to despair. At the top were a
dozen or more of those ubiquitous epistles. You could find damned near any
perversion you wanted by picking the right ones. I sighed deeply. Nearly
all were the garbage spouted by that Roman tax thief, Saul. 'Scales fell
from my eyes' my left buttock! The man saw a chance to become rich and
famous and bend the True Faith with his gentile bigotries and
perversions. He could preach, though, I'll give him that.

They had the Five Books of Moses; good. They seemed to have most of the
Major Prophets. Completely missing were the beauty of the Wisdom
Books. That delicate and loving prose and poetry of Solomon would have gone
far to ease the twisted mess these creatures had made of the Faith. Minor
Prophets could wait.

"Inkar," he could not miss that I had returned to his face-name, "there is
much missing here. Our family," -- Ah! That piqued his interest and no
mistake -- "must save to buy the wisdom missing from this box.

"What do we trade with the local Heathens?" 'We' again brought a glint of
hope and, perhaps, a touch of avarice to his eyes.

"Meat, cheese and leather, Matthaios."

My brow furrowed. "No crafts at all? No weaving? Healing? Woodwork? The
work on this box is fine indeed and you do not sell the product of the
Talents given by God?"

"Th-the work is mine, brother. Mother thought it crude and ugly, but Father
allowed me..." That was something to think on and no mistake. The horror
inflicted upon Ayib was not the scapegoating of a single child, but a
pattern of denigrating those Mother found wanting.

"Pray with me now, brother, for wisdom to guide what must come next." I
knew damned well what would come next, but needed time to put the pieces in
the right order.  I let him through the common litany. I made sure that
children, family and a father's place were prominent, adding enough Latin
and Greek to keep him in mild awe.

"What did you hear from the Lord God as we prayed, Inkar?" He blushed and
dropped his eyes.

"That I must find a wife, my brother." I pretended surprise.

"Yes. Yes, you must. And what else?" He looked at me and flushed, saddened
and afraid.

"Th-That we, that I, that we must tame Mother's rage and Father's
weakness?"

"Yes. It is a great sadness the day that the son becomes a man and knows
his Father to be as flawed as other men. I felt that messages as well, my
brother. We must, you and I, set our family in order to serve and please
the Lord God." Hell yeah, we needed to set those two 'in order'. Who could
possibly live with such monsters ruling everything.

"This night, Inkar, the children other than you and Ismet," his brow
darkened as I suddenly demoted him to child again, "must be set away. Find
some way to accomplish this. You and I will then set right the Father and
Mother who allowed this to fester, and introduce Ismet to our shared vision
of return to the Faith." That seemed to mollify him.

It turned out that the banishment of the youngsters was nothing more than a
wave of the hand. Apparently, the monstrous parents often did so to 'hold
prayer' -- terribly punish transgressions. I got fearful looks as the young
ones assumed I was about to be chastised. A grim smile settled behind the
impassive mask of my face.

Mother, of course, was the first to speak, haughty and imperious. "Aleti!
Attend! Why have you sent the children to the sanctuary? I did not ask for
such!" Sanctuary? Seriously? The boys were with the pigs and the girls with
the goats!

I relied calmly, "I have asked for this time to discuss with you some
matters, honoured parents." I slowly stirred some of my herbs in a small
pot of steaming water. The key part was a rare powder made of a
fungus-spoiled wheat from well to the northwest. The pestle of a particular
flower, the shaft (but not cap) of a certain mushroom, and the bark of a
certain type of yew were there as well. Honey and sweet nettles hid the
taste. I served the tea to the four, taking a false-cup for myself.

"Let us discuss God's word." I guided them as they (mainly Mother) sipped
and pronounced. Many times, I could see Inkar jump, alarmed as something he
assumed I would explode over. I smiled and said nothing at their heresies,
objecting only at true blasphemies. Mother's voice became higher and more
exultant, Father's dreamier and more-complacent as the tea took hold.

Instead of listening to their words, I watched their eyes. It was perhaps
forty minutes before I saw the black centre grow to completely consume the
colour around it. I spoke in a cadence taught me by one of my own
mothers. "You speak of love. Why deny love? Why repress love? Why avoid
love for your children?"

"Love is evil!" The woman's eyes were wide and fearsome to behold. "Love is
weakness! Love is passion and passion must be destroyed!"

"But is not God, love?" The tea, as intended, had loosed her tongue. She
was in a place where her thoughts were her world and there was no other. I
saw Father frown. He, too, was in such a place, but I could see his wife's
words jarred, like the rasp of a saw on a hidden nail. Ismet, well, Ismet
was lost. I could tell she floated where no words could find her.

"God? Speak not of fantasy. God is God is God is God. *I* rule here. *My*
will be done!"

Inkar gasped and even Ismet stirred from he dreams. Father spoke now,
slurred and confused. "But my Ana, as I am your Ata. You told me that your
truth brought love BACK, not pushed it away."

"Oh, you simpering fool! What else would I say? You weak, waffling, deluded
child-man. I told you what you needed to hear in order to build the family
that was worthy of me, OF ME!" She rambled and ranted and fumed for perhaps
an hour or more. When she flagged, I goaded. When she wandered, I
prompted. The tea would cloud judgment, but would never cloud memory.

She spoke of sexual love as something that only she should ever, ever
enjoy. Of peace and happiness as something only she should experience. Of
touch and sensation as something that was her birth right and to be denied
at a whim. She berated her husband in the most-emasculating terms. She
mocked her son and his 'tiny, useless, deformed little pestle' and he
daughter with her 'dried and barren quim'. But always, always, he most
cutting mockery fell upon her speechless, horrified, mortified and (thanks
to my tea) immobile husband.

After she began to repeat her villainy and nothing new was forthcoming, I
passed around a new tea, this one of chamomile and jasperion, with valerian
and hyssops. Ismet, Father and Mother got that one. Inkar got a different
one. Strong, red-gold, vital. This was a tea of only two
components. Roseroot and a unique ivy-root found near my own home, one I
hoarded whenever I found it. As the other three slowly succumbed to sleep,
Inkar began to sweat and shift uncomfortably. The reason was simple, his
cock (assuming the little prick had one) was aching with need and his balls
(ditto) were churning.

We went around covering the passed-out family then retired to the 'boy's
room'. I stripped off and laid down as if nothing was amiss, making sure to
lie in a way that showed off every part I had to best advantage. At first,
Inkar tried in vain to avoid looking, but the two teas made that
impossible. I reached south to scratch myself and his eyes, half-hidden,
could not wrench themselves away from my flopping self. It took everything
I have to NOT become rampant, but I was relishing his thirst to see me that
way.

I surreptitiously watched him lick his lips over and over and over again. I
knew the havoc that my herbs were wreaking in his body as he longed to
fulfil his own -- or anyone else's -- basest needs. I wriggled to a new
position and revelled in the whimper I heard. I looked to him.

"Inkar, is there something you want?" He fought for, perhaps, six seconds.

"OH GOD!" he launched himself across the room and was in my crotch like a
hound with a rabbit. That made clear to me his fulcrum of need, and I knew
the lever best suited to the night. He was driven by smell and taste, not
sight or even touch. I grabbed his hair and pulled him back.

"What are you doing, Inkar? You said that touch was evil. That sex was
evil. What do you want, Inkar?"

"I don't KNOW! I don't KNOW! I want, I want YOU, brother! I want to share
God's congress with you. Oh, God, please tell me this is right!"

"Yes, it is right, brother, but it is right only if you mean it with your
heart and not your loins. Pray with me, brother."

He moaned, then, but knelt next to me. I made sure that he sat in a way
that he would be breathing my musk, my own lust, my own (slightly-enhanced
with herbs) scent that would play upon the tea, unlocking his needs no
matter how deeply buried.

"Heavenly father, guide your sons. Strengthen us in this hour of
uncertainty. Show us the True Path that is hard and hidden from the easy
and simple path of the Great Tempter." I shifted my weight frequently, both
for the comfort of my screaming leg and for the flesh contact as it rubbed
slowly against the straining Inkar, and the waves of new musk it released
with each movement.

"Show us the correct path for love, the correct path for brotherhood, the
correct and righteous and true path for two brothers in your Church to
affirm their bond. Show Inkar the way, and allow me to share in that
knowledge. Show us your love, your tenderness, your strength, your
{mrphgurph}" It was a good thing that Inkar took it upon himself at that
moment to launch himself into a more-than-brotherly kiss because, frankly,
I was running out of boons to ask for!

For a young man who had lived in a world where any touch, certainly
anything as intimate as a kiss, was the ultimate evil, Inkar was both an
enthusiastic and rather talented beginner. Careful to avoid destroying my
leg further, I pulled him down and to the side and proceeded to give him a
demonstration of what a lifelong Christian and student of God's gift of
love could do. When I had him quivering and whimpering with sustained need
I pulled back from the kiss.

"What answer did God give you, my brother? What path did he show you?" His
hands and lips were suddenly everywhere. I blocked his every attempt to
reach my crotch -- that was for later -- but I allowed my own
feather-touches to give him hints at needs he never wanted to imagine but
held trapped for too, too many years.

He spent a lifetime in my armpit, licking up my deep manliness and his own
tears. He was weeping openly with joy and release as he slurped up my
lust-drenched sweat. I smiled. When he had thoroughly cleaned my pits, I
relented slightly and allowed him at my taint, balls and bush, fending him
only from my cock itself. With his face enmeshed beside my balls where the
musk was deepest and most-pungent, I felt him unconsciously hump against my
(uninjured) leg. I pushed him deeper with my hands and I tensed the muscles
of my leg where his cocklet was rutting, all he needed to explode in
howling release, muffled only by the hair where his face was buried.

I gave him no time to recover. I flipped him, still spasming and grunting,
onto his back and began to gnaw his tender nipples. By the time his
eruption waned, Inkar was already moaning in need again. I set to remedy
that; oh, no, moaning was certainly NOT enough!

I latched one hand around his still-churning nuts and pulled them gently
but firmly away from his body. This cum, this was going to last a long,
long time. When his nipples were red and throbbing, I moved to his ears,
his neck, his lips. At each stop, my spare hand made short work of another
spot, a nipple, a side, a shoulder. I finally went down and gave a single,
long, lick on his cocklet from balls to tip, swirling and savouring the
leaking seed from his eruption.

It wasn't much to speak of, really. When I wrapped my fist around it as far
down as possible, only the circumcision scar and the head itself protruded
above it. The noises Inkar was making now, though, left no doubt that his
tiny prick had as many or more nerves than any horse-cock in the Roman
Legion. I felt him approach release again and smiled. With my other fist
where it was, his balls trapped far from the shaft, he could stay on that
knife's edge for hours and never reach completion. That is when he began to
beg, pray and plead for release. Oh, I hardly think so.

I then took the childish man on a tour of what the Christian body could do
when properly treated, licking sucking, nipping, teasing, pinching,
stroking every part that could give pleasure. His body had quaked three
times in pseudo-orgasm before he finally lost the knowledge of words and
entered into that state of Holy Grace where God dwelt, thrashing and
writhing.

I turned fully and engulfed his cocklet just as I presented my own
throbbing manhood to his face. In the fire of holy communion, he began to
suckle and devour as much of me as he could fit. We would need a number of
lessons, most urgently one regarding the whole 'teeth' thing, but overall
he was quite a talented amateur. I brought him and kept him at the
trembling edge of explosion until he had me close. I released his balls and
lunged forward, capturing them in my mouth and driving the head of his
cocklet into my convulsively-swallowing throat. My tongue rolled and licked
his balls as they pulled almost into his body. His primordial cry of
release turned to a gurgling moan as I began to unload, forcing him to
swallow or drown.

I allowed him to take my offering three more times that night, and I
dragged two more loads from him as well. I knew it was critical to cement
this holy bond and drive home the essential truth of the Brotherhood of
Christ while the tea was strong in him. God had made the herbs I brewed,
and He had given me the knowledge of them through my mothers. He had also
left me with the magnificent Harcos those years to hone and improve my
skills at brotherly love. I realised as Inkar grunted and squealed his way
through this night of ecstasy: This was why He had done so. This sad and
blasphemous little flock had need of what I had been given, and God in his
Mercy had given me, his servant, the tools to save them from themselves.

<eof>

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Active storelines, all at www.nifty.org/nifty/gay...
Canvas Hell: 24 chapters .../camping/canvas-hell/
Beaux Thibodaux: 15 chapters .../adult-youth/beaux-thibodaux/
The Heathens: 17 chapters .../historical/the-heathens/
Off the Magic Carpet: 10 chapters .../military/off-the-magic-carpet/
Lake Desolation: 9 chapters .../rural/lake-desolation/
Dear John Letter: 3 chapter .../military/dear-john-letter/
Brother Bear: 2 chapter .../incest/brother-bear/
Shark Reef: 2 chapters .../adult-youth/shark-reef/

Special collaboration with Brad Borris: In God's Love .../incest/in-gods-love/