Pastor Joe 14

This story is adult fiction containing explicit homosexual sex. If you are a minor or are likely to be offended, please read no further. If you are reading further, please consider a donation to nifty.org to help keep this service free and available to all.

Reminder: My stories are always total fiction. Yet some real events and some real places may be used to add reality.

Comments and criticisms are encouraged. This story deals with how an evangelical minister deals with his homosexuality. It is quite different from other tales I have written for nifty.org. I'd especially like to have your reaction. I will answer all your emails. Please write me at macoutmann@yahoo.com.

PASTOR JOE

by Macout Mann

XIV

It took a couple of weeks for Joe to settle in to his new job. He was responsible for a several hundred youth, at least a couple of hundred of whom were active members of the church. That is, they attended regularly.

Joe quickly found that there were no longer denomination-wide organizations for teens. And as one prominent youth minister had said recently when lecturing at the seminary, what was there for teens was "a mile wide and an inch deep." Their activities were mostly for entertainment, he had complained.

Joe thought it was better to entertain kids under the auspices of the church than to let them entertain themselves doing God knows what. So he set out to plan programs.

Although Westside had abundant facilities, organized meetings for teens were restricted to Sunday School, a Sunday Evening Youth Gathering, and a Wednesday Evening Youth Gathering. The gym, which was basically a basketball court, was available when the church office was open but there was no supervised activity. The same was true for the pool, the use of which required adult supervision or the presence of a certified lifeguard.

One afternoon, when Joe was taking a turn around the facility, he heard voices coming from the boys' locker room. He stopped to eavesdrop. Three teens had dropped by after school. They were obviously from the less affluent part of the congregation.

"...and I aint ashamed of it. I've jacked off lots of times," he heard one say.

"I was out by the Harpeth River this summer beating my meat," another boy said, "and this old farmer came by. I shot off in the fucker's mouth."

"Was he suckin' you?" the first boy asked.

"Shit no. He was down on his knees looking at my dick, and when I came, it hit him in the mouth."

"Well I had to be circumcised last Spring," the third boy said, "so I aint been playing with my dick a whole lot. The doc says I've got a big one for my age, though. Hard it's almost seven inches long."

"Let us see it," the first boy said.

"I don't..."

"We'll show you ours." He quickly unzipped and pulled out his sausage.

At this point Joe decided it would be best to make his presence known. "No harm in comparing dick sizes, guys, but it's best to make sure nobody else is around," he laughed.

"Gosh, Pastor Joe," the startled kid responded. "I...we..."

"I was your age once. And it wasn't all that long ago," Joe continued. "Just be careful."

He continued his rounds.

The boys didn't hesitate to tell their friends about the incident. The story spread without the more personal details being related. "Pastor Joe is a real cool dude," became the message.

In fact the boy who had not hesitated to show his dick came to see Joe a few weeks later. His name was Desmond. He lived near the freeway off White Bridge. He was fifteen. Fairly good looking and well developed. They went to Joe's office.

"Pastor Joe, I hope you can help me," he began. "I sure as hell don't know anybody else I could talk to about this."

"I'll do what I can, Desmond. And, believe me, nothing you tell me will shock me, and whatever you say, I'll keep just between us."

"That means a lot.

"Well...there's this gal--she's a woman really--that lives in our neighborhood. She's probably around twenty-five. Her old man drives a semi. He's gone all the time. Well...she asked me to help her carry some stuff into their house and I did. And then she started talkin' about how lonely she was. And she said she thought I was good looking. And...well...she said she needed some dick and she liked what she could see in my jeans. And so I wound up fucking her. I knew I shouldn't have. I mean it wasn't my first time, but here she was...a married woman. And I decided I'd never do it again. But...Pastor Joe, I can't help myself. Every time I see her, my dick gets hard and...well, we fuck. What can I do?"

"It would be very easy for me to tell you that Jesus will give you the strength to resist her wiles, if you just pray hard enough," Joe responded. "You've probably already done that, even if you haven't said formal prayers.

"You might not like the solution I am going to offer, and yes, you might fight your urges hard enough and beat off often enough not to yield to her temptations; but she is committing a felony every time she has sex with you. And the easiest way to resolve your problem is for her to decide not to ever have sex with you again.

"Now I'm not going to condone what you said you have done with others, but that's not what you came to see me about. But if you will give me her name and address, I will go and tell her that if she ever has sex with you again, we will notify the police and tell them what you've told me. I can guarantee that every time she sees you after that, she'll run away as fast as she can."

Desmond didn't take to the idea at first. He thought is made him seem unmanly. But finally he was convinced. And the threat of exposure did have the desired effect on Desmond's paramour. Joe also invited her and her husband to visit Westside.

The Sunday School curriculum was the responsibility of the Sunday School Superintendent, but Joe was able to get the high school classroom redecorated to reflect teen tastes. He found a fairly large but unused chapel on an upper floor of the education building and was able to have it converted to a teen hangout.

The Sunday and Wednesday Evening youth programs had fallen into limbo since the departure of the last youth pastor. Joe was able to recruit some enthusiastic parents to help him with both programs. He turned Sunday night into a worship service for teenagers at which he was the preacher,* and was able to give them sermons in their own vernacular.

On Wednesday Evening teens had always shared a meal with the adults before going to their own meeting. Now they gathered at the hangout for pizza or chili, tamales or barbecue before beginning their program, which usually involved a Jeopardy type game on the Bible or church related subjects.

Attendance by youth at all three events doubled and tripled.

*Unlike many other denominations where the task of preaching may be passed among the clergy at Sunday Worship, Baptist tradition requires the senior pastor with very few exceptions to preach at all Sunday services.

Copyright 2015, 2016 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved.