Date: Sun, 7 May 2017 14:01:05 -0400
From: Orson Cadell <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: in-gods-love-2

This is a fictional role-play between two unrelated, 40+ adults pretending
to be a father and adult (17yo) son. If that is in any way illegal for who
or where you are, please leave immediately. The characters are solely the
creation of the authors. All rights reserved jointly by the two authors.
Do not repost or reproduce, in whole or in part, without express consent of
the authors who can be reached at bradborris45@yahoo.com and
orson.cadell@gmail.com. Please donate to Nifty today at
donate.nifty.org/donate.html. Brad and Orson met by reading Nifty stories;
this would not exist (and you certainly would never read it) if it were not
for Nifty donations.

In God's Love 2: Revelation

*****

My Most Precious Son,

I compose this on the plane as I leave you, crying in my seat to the
consternation of the stewardess. The last seventeen hours have changed my
life, and I pray to God that they have not destroyed yours! Our kiss when I
got into the truck nearly undid me, son. Your need and fever and touch as
we entered the Vestry and again as we entered my office were the greatest
things I'd felt since you were conceived.

I've never seen or known or imagined such need. That you turned to that
unspeakable villain, Deacon Kelly, is something I now vaguely
understand. Nothing, son, nothing prepared me for the way you needed
me... or, to be honest, the need you kindled within me. I am still
confused, bewildered, unbelieving that a person of such exquisite beauty
and purity and budding-manliness would see anything in this tired,
broken-down, hairy, bulky body. But it lit a fire within me that rivals the
pits of the Great Satan himself. And, you know what? If that's where I end
up, I will still be grateful for those hours.

I will burn in the fiery torment of hell for it and I just don't care. Your
touch fulfilled me, Brad. Your need affirmed me. Your scent destroyed
me. Your kiss undid me. Your hand... well you know what you hand and... and
your mouth did for me and to me and with me. When you exploded into your
jeans at nothing more than my touch and my kiss, Brad, I nearly died with
pride and power and love and desperate, gnawing need to give you more.

I am ashamed and horrified that I let you... let you lick me there. That I
let you do that to me. Let you take me into your mouth. Let me... I cannot
think much less type the words in my shame.  That I took advantage of your
desperate need just to fulfill my own lust. I do not ask your forgiveness,
just your understanding that it is a shame that I will take with me to the
Heavenly Gate, allowing God Himself to judge me. I have never felt such,
such, such ecstasy, in or out of the Lord's work. That this could be wrong
horrifies and frightens me. I do not want to believe in a God who would
make this a sin.

We will be apart for weeks, my darling, precious, sexy, wonderful, lusty
and perfect son. Please, I beg you, do not let that Monster, that Deacon
Kelly, despoil you again. Pleasure yourself at the memory of what we
did... I'm so sorry, at the memory of the terrible things that I did unto
you. I am dying, my darling son, at the knowledge that my own joy came at
the expense of your purity, innocence and trust. Please, I beg you, DO NOT
forgive me. I could not take the shame. Just accept that the horrors I
wrought were a twisted, terrible, unforgiveable expression of my deep and
abiding love.

The plane is beginning to land. Where did all these tiny bottles come from?
To think that I have wept and thumb-typed for nearly three hours at this
message prove how corrupt and disgusting that I am. Please son, please move
on and find someone worthy of your incredible, awe-inspiring, divine love.

Apologetic, Without Hope of Redemption,
-Your Failed Father.

*****

My Perfect Father,

Just received the email from your plane ride. It brought tears to my eyes
and an ache in my heart to be with you right now. The last two days have
gone down as undeniably the Best of my entire life: I could not have
imagined a better gift than you coming to me and opening your heart and
your pants :) Though I realize I am only 17, I have never been so
satisfied.

Now that I have tasted the sweetness of your seed that created my very life
I could never go back to Deacon Kelley. If you promise to forgive yourself
and let me take the fall for it, I will keep myself only for you on the
condition that we MUST continue this when you return and that you agree
that you and I will go even farther than what Mr Kelley and I did, to the
very gates of hell if we have to.

Dad, if its not super nasty and manly then I know I will turn back to DK,
thats what he provide for me in your absence. But you are 10 times the Man
he is if you give yourself to this. I don't want us to apologize or be
afraid. It's clear before God now that we are destined to do this and to do
it in the church itself naked before God with no shame.

Please let me know that you agree to this so I know how to handle my heart
and expectations and cock:)

Lovingly yours

*****

 Brad,

I know it must have been torture for you these last three days without a
single word from me, but I will not apologize. The bug-infested braising
hell of this mission gave me something I needed, the solitude to truly,
openly pray to the Lord God for guidance. I begged for the shame and guilt
I knew was my due for having let my lust entice you further into sin. I
longed for His holy wrath to show my how wrong and vile and unspeakable
this love is.

But he ignored my pleas and denied me utterly the right to be
ashamed. Everything in my heart, through every prayer, told me that this
was right, needful, perhaps even holy. I will never forgive either myself
or Deacon Kelly for the fact that I, your father, was not the one to bring
this knowledge to you. I know myself the critical importance of a father
showing his son this wondrous, special, sacred bond, and reveling in it. It
is the privilege and responsibility of the father and the undeniable right
of the son. I failed you, but will fail you no more. I will work off this
guilt by redoubling this special love that we hold for each other.

You, son, will not "take the fall" for anything. We have both been the
victim of that horrible man. Your soul in this is pure, son, and there is
no stain upon it. That was another part of my agony in the Lord, to be sure
that He agrees. His calming Grace has made it clear, Brad, my darling and
precious son, that your slate is clean before the Lord God. My sin has not
been in the act, but in the denial of your need and right, both in my own
pride and mixed priorities. This mission could bring a thousand souls, a
million to Christ and I would deserve condemnation if I failed to help you
become the man you need to be.

There are times, son, that you will need to lead as well as follow. We may
have to work together to find new paths toward Heaven, for I refuse to
consider this journey as any sort of approach to Hell. For a start, I need
to know what you mean by "even farther than what Mr Kelley and [you] did."
What have you experienced, and how? What have you done to/for/with each
other so far? Until I know that, son, I cannot know what I have that I can
teach, or what you can help us learn together.

Stay strong, my beautiful and bedeviled boy. Avoid that vile man at all
costs, and resort to self-pleasure when the pressure is too great. Think on
the things we did, and those that we have yet to do. For me, I will do so
(yes, son, even old farts jack off) lost in three memories: The scent of
your indescribably-erotic musk as I entered the truck and fell into our
first true kiss; the look of amazed hunger and hope and longing when you
finally realized that I was not there to punish, but to fulfill your needs;
and the most selfish of all, the first, ecstatic touch of your tongue to my
old, gnarled, ugly prick and the blissful moan that erupted from you at
that taste. The kissing was good too. ;)

I apologize for the length of my messages. As hinted by innumerable
parishioners, I do tend to run on in my sermons. In this case, though, it
is not to exhort the wayward to the Lord, but to revel in our private joy.

With All Forms of Love,
-Daddy

*****

Best Daddy ever,

Yes. It has sucked :) now that I've "tasted and seen that you are good
[angel smiley]" I can't think about anything else. Papa, I need you in ways
that I sure don't have the words for. I feel more and more convinced that
this was Gods plan and He's smiling on where this is headed because he
knows what I need.

I would have never thought that you would be willing to be the one to
provide this for me. I am sorry I ever got involved with Deacon Kelley. He
was not my first choice as you now know. You always have been. I have
pleasures myself usually 2-3 times a day since our "father-son counseling
session" remembering your fur-covered body, the specimen of the perfect
male; your thick drippin cock. I actually couldn't believe the amount of
precum you were leaking. Our bed practically became a swimming pool ha ha .

And we actually didn't even go very far together sexually yet. I can't
imagine the places we will explore and how nasty I will get to be with my
own father.

You asked about things I have done with Deacon Kelly. First of all you must
know that he is contacting me almost daily asking what is wrong. I keep
putting him off, and I must admit the temptation to see him in your absence
is very strong. He does have a type of power over me thats very dark and
incredible at the same time.  He and I have gone places sexually and
spiritually in the church that I can't get out of my head -and probably
because he is so much like you in many ways. Masculine, hairy, all man...

Daddy, Mr. Kelley has fucked my ass bareback over 100 times I would
guess. We go at least an hour or more and he gets very verbal and nasty
calling me "son".  I have held his seed in me countless times and thought i
was doing the right thing until you and I talked. I have to admit I have
gotten used to that kind of oneness before God. The altar has been our
favorite place lately but I give you my word that my ass on the altar can
only be consecrated by you from now on if you agree.

When will you be home next? I need you Daddy. Please let me know your
honest thoughts about all this.

Waiting patiently but horny,
Brad

*****

My dearest Boy,

The first words of your message took my breath away, as I have been praying
upon that very passage for the week since we were together. It is a crisis
of my faith not yet resolved. Yes, our eyes have been opened by the Fruit
of the Tree of Knowing Good from Evil, and we DID see the nakedness of each
other and it WAS good. But twin thoughts drive me now.

Could Adam have wronged God in a very different way than he supposed?
Should he have stood and said, "Yea, Father, I disobeyed and am heartily
sorry, but we DID taste of the fruit and KNOWETH now good from evil and,
Father, THIS is the greatest good!" Should Adam have defended their
nakedness instead of hiding it away? Should Adam have reveled in God's
Grace and gloried in His greatest creation? The pure joy of being with you,
of knowing you, of all we did and will do, tells me that you are right, my
darling Brad: this is God's plan.

But then darkness falls and I think, sin can feel good and still be sin. If
so, which of us is Eve, tempting the downfall of the other? Deacon Kelly so
perfectly plays the Serpent, but the idea that you are Eve is impossible to
consider. I am the one to rip you from the bosom of innocence with the
taste of knowledge and... other things you should never have tasted. But I
always come back to the glow, the peace, the serenity it gives me, taking
me further back into Genesis 1: That God looked upon us and knew our souls,
"And God saw that it is good."

I blushed through the rest of your letter. Where did you LEARN such words??
For SHAME, son! I cannot find it in myself to condemn them, though, for
they surge through my mind and body like the Holy Spirit. Yes, son, I have
always leaked plenty, but nothing like when I was with you. I cannot
believe even as I write this that I'm saying it, but your touch made me
pour dogwater in spurts as if tiny orgasms rocked me continually as we
touched, held, communed with each other.

Deacon Kelly's 'dark and incredible' power over you is at an end. He will
not contact you again about anything, ever, unless I am present. Before
writing this, and I sent him a note explaining the magnitude of my rage at
what he has taken from me, stolen from us both. The sacred bond of Father
and Son is something he violated in a way that cannot be forgotten, and
only through my service to the Lord God can I find it to forgive him.

If he so much as looks in your direction or speaks to you of anything
outside the Lord's Work or touches you in *any way whatever*, I will visit
upon him wrath unknown in the Holy Book itself. At the very least, he will
never again tempt a young man... well, he might, but he will lack the
equipment to take pleasure from such an act. He will also go today, this
very day, and be tested for diseases he may have brought to you, brought to
us both. If he has (and he does not know this and you are forbidden to say
anything), Deacon Kelly will join me at this mission... briefly. I will
personally deliver him to Satan slowly, in unspeakable pain, and I am
confident that he will remain in the agony of Hell Itself from that day
unto eternity. The remains of his body will be consumed by the infernal
insects that plague this hell-hole.

*I* am the only one to call you SON. *I* am the only one with whom you will
feel these things until you find a wife or... never mind. *I* will
consecrate our love, son, and only I. I will not have Deacon Kelly or any
other Serpent defile you again. I will be home for you in two weeks'
time. There is no way to arrange it sooner without arousing suspicion, and
I will not suffer unto you questions or whispers among the congregation.

Our time then will be short, so give thought to what you want us to
do. Thanks to that demon-made-flesh, you have more practical experience. My
own revelation to the sacred truths transmitted from Father to Son were not
near as... complex, so you will have to guide me physically as I guide you
spiritually. I am especially drawn to "fucked [your] ass bareback". How
does that work, my precious child, and how does it feel? I surely cannot
mean... My mind goes blank at the physically-impossible idea. I long -- no,
I THIRST -- to touch you, to caress you, to hold you, to kiss you, to bring
you again and again and again to ecstasy. I want to bring you the kind of
pleasure -- every kind of pleasure -- known in God's creation, Brad. Help
me to know what those are.

One last note, my precious creation. You are committing the Sin of Onan two
to three times *each day*?? A release is needful and understandable, but
(not a Biblical reference), "Don't yank it OFF, Boy!!" Please do this for
me: Confine your acts to once per day, Brad. At other times, bring yourself
to the very edge of that ecstasy then stop, praying and concentrating on
the Lord. You will gain three things, my son, with such restraint: First,
you will reduce your sin and bring yourself closer to God's Grace. An
understandable sin, son, is still a sin. Second, you will gain the control
that a Man must have to survive the temptations of this world. If you were
14 again, I could understand it. But now you must learn the subtle,
terrible and fulfilling art of self-control. Lastly, I promise the greatest
possible reward. Bringing yourself to the very brink several times per day
produces the best, strongest, Holiest eruption you have ever imagined, son.

In Ture and Constant Love,
Daddy

*****

My Father-Who-Will-Make-Love;

Thanks for communicating so clearly. You are simply the best a boy could
ask for. Dad. I hear what you are saying about "once a day" and building up
strength for our future times of making love together. And Pops, I do see
it as making love..more than sex..something so spiritually nasty that we
can't ever turn back.

Also, this is what I mean by ass fucking: I can't wait to feel your thick
monstrous cock as it slowly slides up my ass and see the look of lust like
you've never experienced before.  I want to feel the heat of you bare skin
feeling like a iron rod plucked straight from the fire moving into me. I
want you to see my look when the head of your 8 incher hits my prostrate
for the first time. I will probably shoot right then and there.

I have dreamed of this for so long. Many time as Mr. Kelley would be
plowing my ass I would lean back and close my eyes and see you. Now it will
be a reality and we will experience a oneness of the spirit together and
what God has joined together let no man separate! Amen!! This is what every
boy wants from their earthy Father...to be known and loved through filling
them up with their cocks in the most intimate way possible. Something we
aren't ashamed of and would lay in the middle of an arena filled with 1000s
of Christian men and let them watch us consummate our love as they
consecrate our act with their rivers of cum. This is the good life Dad.

Next, I'm not even sure how to ask this. By what you implied in your last
response, did something happen at some point, well, _sexually_ between you
and grandpa? Surely not Grandpa has been a holiness preacher for years and
one of the most God-fearin that I know. The picture of what might have been
makes me want to run straight to the bathroom to relieve this enormous
pressure in my balls.  What happened or didn't happen, Dad. Please tell me
EVERYTHING. I need to hear real stories as it will help me to withstand the
lure of Deacon Kelley in my thoughts. I must displace those heated nasty
times with memories that are much nastier with you. What do you think?

Lastly, I have an unusual request. When we meet in a couple of weeks and
take things to a new level (please be thinking and planning, cause even tho
I have more experience i NEED you to lead for my dicks sake): I would like
you to not have showered for at least two days. I'd like you very sweaty,
musky, cum-stained and ripe. Is that ok? I hope that doesn't gross you out
and make you change you're mind. I need a man who smells like sex and
smells like a man. Please if you don't have one already get a pair of
running shorts that become your "cum rag" and use them to clean up your cum
every time. Don't wash any away and don't wash the shorts. Exercise in
them, get them as cum stained and sweaty-ripe as possible. Hide them
away. I'm doing this as well, I have a pair I haven't washed in a year. It
is the most intoxicating smell ever.

I love you Daddy! I can't wait!

*****

My Lusty, Lovely, Lascivious Son,

I'll start with the end of your letter because it made me laugh out
loud. As I was waiting to leave IAH, I spotted a sportswear store and
grabbed a pair of compression shorts and donned them in the restroom. I
wasn't sure at first with the way they grabbed, um, *everything*, but by
the time I got to Tegucigalpa I loved them.

On that flight, reliving our night while writing you that guilt- and
lust-drenched message set me on fire, and the compression shorts wicked
away (and locked in) every bead of sweat, every surge of dogwater. I have
only taken them off to bathe since, and they reek wonderfully. Until you
showed me, I never knew how intoxicating man-musk could be. Now I can only
sit, desperate, waiting to smell you again.

I have a confession to make. When we got dressed that morning, you seemed
confused then decided you'd gone commando the day before. I, um, well... I
took the boxers you blew your load into before you got undressed. I've
sucked on them whenever I've needed to relieve (or relive) the tension, and
they are my, as you put it, 'cum rag'. I'm blushing so hard at that I can
barely stand it. I just spent ten minutes fighting with myself over
deleting this whole paragraph. But I promised to be open and honest. Sigh.

Just to be perfectly clear, you are saying that you want me to take my
manhood and somehow insert it up your behind? You cannot *possibly* be
saying that. It could never fit! Or do you mean between your thighs, or
(oh, God, I almost came at the thought) sliding up and down between your
clenching buttocks? Also, son, you'll have to help me with another
point. I've had a prostate exam at the Doc's, but what can that have to do
with sex? I am not (I didn't think) naive, but I'm having trouble making
sense of the, well, mechanics.

As to your other question. You must never breathe a word of this or hint in
any way that I have told you. I somewhat regret my promise of absolute
honesty, son, but you put pieces together that I didn't realize I'd
written. Yes, Reverend (then Pastor) Cadell, your grandpa, taught me the
mysteries of becoming a man. He *is* a holy man and *is* a 'God-fearin'
preacher. He was also a much better father to me than I've been to you. His
was the second erection my hand ever touched (mine was the first and yours
the third), and his was the first hand upon my manhood other than my own.

He taught me to 'make beautiful music' with a wife by, um, by 'chorus
practice' with our bodies and voices as instruments. He taught me how to
enjoy myself, how to control myself and how to pleasure another. Tempo,
force, melody, rhythm. Hands and mouths, though, were the only instruments
he taught me to play. We practiced that music for about four years, 13 to
17.

That is why I weep at my stupidity. You seemed so innocent and soft and
precious that I, well, I tried to pretend that you would not need my touch
and my guidance. Had I given you the 'gift of music' when I should have
started, that vile man could never have lured you. It is my fault, my sin,
my failure, and this is my chance to redeem myself at least in part. We
will make symphonies, my darling Brad, to make the Great Masters hang their
heads in humility.

Since I am already blushing so hard mosquitoes are crying to get through
the screen: You asked for a 'real story' and I'll give you one that was not
only nasty but potentially disastrous. I was 15, and I was playing a
breathy tune on Daddy's one-note flute as he sat in that huge leather
swivel chair (the same one, yes, that's in his office to this day). There
was a knock on the door but I was just getting started. I scooted under
that massive desk, spun the chair and never let him out of my suckling
mouth. That's when I heard The Voice.

You never met Pearl Bessel. Imagine Mrs. Stanton but add a nasal, bitchy
voice to the wrinkled old hag. Smelled of rosewater and skunk and had a
hard, ratty handbag that hurt like hell when she whacked a kid with it for,
oh, I dunno, breathing loud. So in she storms in high dudgeon and starts to
harangue Daddy about Satan only knows what while I am busily trying to suck
Daddy's rattles out through is skin-flute.

I added some fine finger-work to his fret while strumming his maracas with
the other. Daddy's voice went up and up until finally he yelled, "GOD BE
PRAISED!" and unloaded into my suckling, selfish, needy, greedy, dirty
little mouth. Miss Pearl jumped a foot and then said, cool as ice, "I'm
glad to see you understand the severity of the situation and plan to make
appropriate changes," before sweeping out. Daddy couldn't decide whether to
strangle me or give me a present. He split the difference by locking the
door and tying my hands to the chair, where he brought me to the knife's
edge of crescendo seven times before allowing me to end my little
begging-concert in a screaming finale. Your grandfather is an amazing and
loving man, my son, and the father I wish I was.

I will think on other stories. Perhaps when he first showed me what my
manhood was for, or the first time he let me taste his own Holy Water. But
for now, son, I hope that is enough to tide you over. As I mentioned, I am
working to arrange more "home time" but don't have news on that yet. Stay
strong, stay pure, stay horny and stay wonderful, my precious,
incomparable, unbelievably-sexy Brad.

Leaking About You Constantly,
-Daddy

*****

Daddy,

Sorry, I know this is the middle of the night (and hopefully you'll end up
reading this in the morning at a normal hour) but I just woke up from a
crazy dream that is really bothering me. I am wondering if it was a
prophetic dream from God? you remember when you and the elders and Deacon
team went away to the General Assembly (mom and us kids stayed at home) 4
years ago??? In my dream you and Deacon Kelley were sharing a room and I
walked in on you two engaged in oral sex. You just looked at me and gave
the most lascivious grin and told me to get out. Dad, be honest did
something happen at some point between you and Deacon Kelley. It felt very
real to me.

Don't be mad:)

I love you with all my heart, mind and cock,

Brad

*****

My Loving Son,

I long to lie to you, to deny things that I am ashamed of. But I cannot do
so and still demand your own honesty when revealing things that shame
you. Nothing like what you describe ever happened. However...

When Deacon Kelly first came to our Ministry, he was a vibrant and
enthusiastic leader and took the youth groups well in hand. I found out two
years later that it was true in far more terrible ways than the phrase
intends. I literally walked in on him and a boy of 15. He had locked the
door to my office, but I had assumed it would be locked anyway and unlocked
it and went in without the 'jiggling the knob' he probably expected as an
early warning.

That viper had his manhood down the throat of that poor, innocent
boy. Deacon Kelly had taught the lad to caresses his balls as he took his
pleasure from the boy's mouth. I arrived at the perfect/worst time, just as
that monster was preparing to defile the child with his seed. I yanked him
back so hard the boy fell forward, the man's cock popping out with the
sound of a plunger. The child cried out in terror and humiliation, but
Deacon Kelly was too far gone to notice or care and began to spew his
filthy ejaculate across the floor, the boy and my own desk.

The child, mortified by what he saw as his own sin, fled, sobbing
hysterically. No, don't even try to guess his name, I will not confirm it
even if you already know. I spent a year with that child, trying to heal
the damage Deacon Kelly had done. Like you, he was utterly convinced that
he was the aggressor, the blackmailer, the transgressor, the monster and he
flatly refused to lay witness against the Deacon.

That left me with no actual choice. I could not remove him or have him
arrested (and never would done the latter as it would have destroyed that
innocent child). I had to force the viper to mend his ways. I moved him out
of all youth activities where a boy might be enrolled and demanded weekly
reports of all contacts with the youth of the congregation. Sadly, that did
not put a stop to his villainy, but that is a different tale.

As part of the boy's healing, I allowed him -- once and only once -- to use
me to relive the things that monster had made him do. This was simply to
show that there could be goodness in physical love, not only the shame,
humiliation and guilt that Deacon Kelly beat into the poor child's
conscience. Both of us were stunned at the power of that act, and it was
oft-discussed but never repeated.

So, in effect, Deacon Kelly and I are sexually connected, through the child
he molested and that I helped to heal. As for any idea that I might touch
that villain or allow him to touch me, it could, would, will NEVER
happen. He uses the glory of sex for lust and denigration; I use it for
teaching, healing and love. I will dedicate myself to showing you the
difference, my loving, perfect, pure boy, if it is my last act on this
Earth.

In God's Love,
-Daddy

*****

[ED NOTE: Pastor Orson's response and Brad's next letter crossed in the
ether, as such things often do.]

Daddy dearest hunk of man alive:)

You can ignore my rambling email from the middle of the night if you feel
like its inappropriate. It just freaked me out because of how real it felt,
and next thing I knew I was emailing you at 3:30 in the morning.

But here's what I can't get out of my head today: YOU & GRANDPA! The most
fucking hot thing I have ever heard. It's so hard to believe because of who
grandpa is. But now that you have shared that story I can see if in my
mind. What an incredibly beautiful thing.

Please describe everything, how often, how intense, how did it start,
EVERYTHING :)

But most of all, why did it end, Dad? Why didn't it keep going? Does that
mean you and I have to end soon? Help me understand. From what I have
experienced, I will never wanted to come to an end. And to be perfectly
honest the thought of you, I and grandpa all in bed together enjoying the
pleasures of fami'y, me being squished between your two naked bodies...wow.

I remember seeing grandpa naked on several occasions at the lake house when
he would change in the guys outdoor shower area with me. I was impressed,
though afraid of staring at such a holy specimen; He is the only man I know
who is actually hairier and has a bigger cock than you, Dad. What an
amazing discovery. It gives me a lot of hope.

All that said, Dad are you for real that you don't know what anal sex and
man fuxcking is? Haven't you ever watched at least "bi" porn and two guys
fuck? If not, please start going on Pornhub (it's free) and watch videos
under "Dad and Son" or "Pastor". That will catch you up to speed quick lol.

Yes literally stick your cock slowly into my asshole. It's better than a
pussy as it's very tight and will grip your cock. Once you get used to it,
it's like it was made to go together. Dad, i swear on the Bible that it
will be the most enjoyable experience of your life.  I want you inside of
me, leaking your dog water and then exploding a pint of cum inside me. I
need this daily from you. I don't want any distance ever again.

Speaking of the Bible, I need to ask you a question about your willingness
to do certain things in the church such as cumming together on a Bible, how
open are you Pops?

     As far as your new shorts and my boxers, DAMN, who are you and what
have you done with my dad lol. ????  I am dripping a river just thinking
about those shorts and how manly you must smell. Please keep going with
that; it drives me wild. You know I am all yours. I can't think of anyone
else at all (except for maybe grandpa now:)) I'm obsessed with you, Man of
God! Teach me, disciple me, instruct me, shepherd me....

With all my love,

Brad

*****

Father,

There's a reason why I've delayed in responding since you shared your last
message with me. This is not easy to say, but you made me promise to be
100% honest with you. You are a man of integrity, so I know this will never
be confirmed as you said.  I'm sitting in my room in a puddle of tears as I
write this, shaking and afraid. For some reason my heart broke reading your
last response. I didn't even know that I could experience jealousy like
this. Or what it would lead me to do.

You see, I know the young man was Paul. As you most likely remember, Paul
and I have never gotten along well. We are both competing to be
valedictorian and have been competitive in sports since elementary school.
Well we don't hate each other, but we are not friends either. I would
describe us as classic "frenemies".

Several years ago, Paul walked up to my locker and with a cocky grin on his
face said, "Youe dad for sure likes me better than he likes you, His own
son. He proved it last night." It Just sounded ridiculous to me, so I just
rolled my eyes and shrugged it off. Now I understand the context. He was
mocking me and our lack of closeness. It's almost like he could see how
lonely I was for attention and just poked on that bruise.

That, Dad, is not the hard part to tell you. The next part is... I was so
devastated putting all this together that I called Deacon Kelly asked if I
could meet with him at the church.  We met this evening at 5:30 after
everything was locked and everyone was gone.  I must be honest, it was the
most incredible explosive three hours I have ever participated in. It was
the nastiest sex, but it was revenge sex, and I didn't even realize.

I am so so sorry, Pastor Orson, Father, Daddy. I am prepared for the
consequences. I would not blame you if you cut off all relationship with me
and never speak to me again. It is what I deserve. I have never been good
enough, nor will I ever be.

Not good enough to be your son,
Bradley

*****

More coming soon.

bradborris45@yahoo.com - Brad Borris, author

orson.cadell@gmail.com - Bear Pup, author