DISCLAIMER:
This story is a work of fiction and contains descriptions of explicit sexual acts between men.
If this type of content offends you or you are under the age of 18 do not read it.
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Copyright 2018, jaywizetoo, all rights reserved.
Please contact me at jaywizetoo@gmail.com if you like. I welcome all feedback.
I awoke at 4 AM.
Lying in my bed, I watched the shadows of tree branches cast by the bright moon outside my window and surveyed the day ahead of me. Normally, I was at least a little groggy this early, but this morning I felt restless. The air seemed pregnant with potential.
I sat up, pushing the covers aside, and slid my feed into my leather sandals. As I assumed most of the other monks here did, I slept in the nude, uncovered and unadorned before God. The cool air tickled my bare skin as I made my way across the small cell and immersed my hands in the water of my wash basin; a chipped porcelain bowl that was seventy-five years old if it was a day.
Splashing my face, I shivered as the spring water cleared my head and jolted me awake. I looked into the small round mirror above the table and I could just make out the contours of my face and shoulders.
I had grown stronger in the months since I arrived at the monastery. The brothers believed work was good for the soul. Glancing down at my lean form, I could at least agree that it was good for the body. My chest and arms were larger and I could see the beginnings of abdominal muscles. I made the sign of the cross and reached over to pluck my robe and cord from a hook next to the door.
I didn't bother donning any undergarments. Monks at St. Bernard of Clairvaux were generally forbidden from owning anything, so I found no fault in walking around with only the hooded robe to cover me. In fact, walking around this way gave me an odd thrill.
Suitably dressed, I opened the door to my private quarters and set off for the lavatorium. It was my turn to get there before the others arrived to perform their morning ablutions. My job was to turn on the boiler that heated the water reservoir above the showers. We were used to water that wasn't exactly scalding, but no one appreciated the misery of a cold shower before the sun had even risen... no one but some of the older monks who felt that a hot shower was an extravagance which distracted them from thoughts of God.
I preferred the hot water.
A small closet housed the ancient boiler. I turned the knobs, released the pressure and sent steam rolling through the old copper pipes. I could hear them groan above the wood and stone ceiling. I briefly considered lighting the candles set in sconces around the edge of the room, but opted against the idea. I enjoyed showering at this hour, dark as it might be. It was a time for reflection, a time when I could prepare myself for the day ahead.
A hung my robe on one of the bronze hooks lining the south wall and stepped into a stall and under the wide nozzle above. I braced myself as I turned the spigot. The water wasn't yet hot, but it wasn't cold either, fortunately.
I let the spray inundate me, droplets rolling down my body. This too was a great pleasure for me. I had always had a weakness for tactile sensations like this. As I ran my hands down my chest and moved my head under the flow, the water continued to heat, spreading warmth over my back and buttocks. My muscles relaxed and I let my mind wander.
It was heaven. My lips moved silently, forming the words we had learned to recite by rote at all hours of the day. I thought about the garden outside that would need weeding. The repairs to the roof ongoing, for which I would be required to haul construction materials for the brothers working high above, the hardwood floors that would need polishing in the main entryway.
And then I froze. I was suddenly aware I was not alone. A tall figure stepped up to the darkened shower, hesitated for a few seconds, then slid under the water with me. Because of the position of the stall relative to the windows, the darkness here was almost complete. I could just make out the edges of the man's silhouette.
He was tall, broad-shouldered. In fact, he stood a full head higher than I. There were at least a half dozen men in the monastery who fit that description, however, so his nearness didn't betray his identity.
Barely a foot away from me, the monk stood in silence, as if making certain I knew he was there. Of course, I couldn't imagine how he would know I was the one in the shower. He had either followed me here, or perhaps it didn't matter which of the brothers was showering here at four o'clock in the morning. The latter possibility raised some interesting possibilities.
I reached out, touching his chest. He took hold of my fingers in one large, furry paw of a hand, and began to move them slowly around his torso.
He had large, meaty pecs, wide and thick, set atop a belly that bulged only slightly outward; just enough to mark him as someone immensely strong, but not particularly athletic. The skin on his hands was rough and calloused, and his chest and stomach were covered in coarse hair that softened under the hot water.
He moved closer to me, pushing me a step at a time until my back was pressed against the wooden beam and stone that lined the enclosure. He stopped once his thick nipples made contact with the soft skin of my upper arms.
His head lowered and I felt the wetness of his beard upon my neck, the hint of his teeth, his lips pressed to the wet skin and his broad tongue sliding out to taste me.
I moaned, but the sound was swallowed by the water cascading down to the stone floor beneath us. Two arms, thickly muscled and dark with fur, wrapped around my lower back, drawing me to him. I felt the width and length of a huge rod slide against my belly, already hard and throbbing. I reached down to cup two massive, low-hanging balls in their soft sack, and squeezed them.
The big monk growled. I shivered at the illicit intimacy, unplanned, unexpected, unrequested; but most certainly not unwelcome. He sank to his knees slowly, kissing and licking as he did. His beard tickled my chest and belly, then my groin. And then a hot wet mouth enveloped my cock. For a few seconds, we didn't move. My hands squeezed the powerful shoulders as he held me in his mouth.
After a moment, he began a slow, powerful sucking --No, it was more than sucking-- his lips and tongue explored every inch thoroughly, swirling around the head of my cock and tightening around the base. The pleasure was so intense I thought my knees might buckle, but his rhythm was slow and deep, deliberate. I could do nothing but surrender to it and minutes passed as soft animal whimpers rose from my throat.
He continued like that for a time, holding me against the wall and pumping me in and out of his throat, the pace agonizing and transcendent. He brought me closer and closer to the edge, but just as I thought I would explode in his mouth, he pulled off and released me. My cock bounced upward, slapping my belly. I gasped at the sudden sensation of water upon the sensitive flesh.
He rose then to his full height. One large hand seized my right shoulder and he turned me in place, so that I faced the stone wall. I knew immediately what he wanted. I felt a hairy thigh against the inner part of my leg, then another. With a powerful movement the big monk spread my legs and pushed my upper body forward. I held onto the thick piece of oak protruding from the wall. My ass was fully exposed.
The brother's hands gripped my hips and I felt the slick, blunt head of his powerful organ against my hole. Then I heard his deep voice for the first time, just loud enough to be heard over the water.
"Ave Maria, gratia plena."
The wide head popped inside and I gasped, biting down on my right forearm.
I thought he would split me in two. His cock felt like a baseball bat stretching the tight ring of my anus.
"Dominus tecum..." he growled, and pushed forward. My ass widened further, and I grunted as several inches of searing monk flesh entered me.
I widened my stance, trying to give him better access and to adjust my height relative to his. The huge cock burrowed deeper, shoving my guts aside as it filled me.
"Benedicta tu in mulieribus," he chanted, leaning over to slide more of himself inside me as he took some of the flesh of my upper back between his teeth, holding me there.
"...et benedictus fructus ventris tui, Iesus."
His hairy groin pressed against my ass, and he just like that, he was buried. All the world filled my ass, and I grunted.
"Oh, God... yes, brother."
The big monk began pumping slowly, powerfully, in and out of me. It seemed I could feel every vein and contour of the rod as he moved. With each withdrawal his horse-like cock pulled the ring of my anus outward, then pushed it back in as he drove the whole length back into my belly. His huge, hanging nuts bounced against mine as his groin slapped my upturned ass.
"Sancta Maria, Mater Dei," he gasped.
I froze again, for the second time this morning. I felt a hand upon my cock, soft as silk, milking it downwards toward the floow. The tall monk still had a tight grip on my hips. Whose hand now held my throbbing shaft. We were not alone. The thought almost made my cum.
For the next few moments, we justled under the hot spray, a mess of buried cock, stroking hands, and wet flesh. The newest addition to this shower ended up in an inside corner of the crowded stall. I was still bent over taking the huge monk's cock, just as a young Novice should. The pace of his fuck never faltered, steady and endless as the tide.
The monk before me in the corner was even harder to make out. He was shorter than I was, and quite a bit rounder. He seemed older, though the lightly furred belly and legs were tight and plump. I explored him with my hands. His chest was dominated by two fat tits with thick nipples and large areolas. They almost looked like a woman's breasts. He too had a thick beard. Around his wide neck and bald head, a leather strap hung with a wooden cross at its end, resting against the fat belly.
By this time, I was crazed with lust and as the soft hands guided me, I rose to take one of the dark nipples in my mouth and sucked at the wet flesh greedily, trying to get as much of it in my mouth as possible. My chin rubbed his bulging belly as I nursed on him. From this distance I could see that the fat monk was older; perhaps in his late fifties or early sixties. The fur on his chest was sprinkled with grey, and his wet beard was the color of winter iron.
Time seemed to blur, then slow. I moved back and forth, sucking and licking on those fat pecs, the old monk's hand on the back of my head holding me to him, whispering obscenities and encouragements to me, calling me his boy, calling himself my daddy and exhorting me to keep eating those round man-tits.
The tall monk behind me continued his relentless fucking, growling Latin into the darkened space.
"...oro pro nobis peccatoribus..."
The older monk pushed my head down to his crotch, now, almost invisible beneath the exaggerated, tumescent gut jutting out from his abdomen.
The fat head of his short but very thick cock found my lips. He grabbed my head with both hands and sank his fat pole into my mouth. He began bucking his hips and fucking my face as I reached around him to grip his round ass.
His motions were hurried, urgent. His balls slapped my chin as the monk behind me quickened the pace of his rut.
"...nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae," he continued, reciting the prayer word for word.
Then, with a loud grunt, the fat monk above me began to cum. Holding my head tightly, he thrust balls-deep into my mouth, each impact accompanied by a gush of his potent sperm against my flattened tongue. The first spurt filled my mouth completely, rivulets leaking from the corners of my lips. I swallowed reflexively. His belly slapped my forehead with each spasm, the wide plug of his flesh forcing huge volumes of the thick cream down my throat, as it had nowhere else to go. I gulped and drank, my head filled with the taste and smell of his cum.
"Amen," the tall monk behind me hissed as, with a feral bellow, he drove himself into me and dumped his scalding load deep inside my guts. His balls were wedged tightly into the crack of my ass. It felt like he was trying to climb inside me, and again his teeth sunk into the meat of my shoulder as the huge stud bred his younger brother in Christ.
The fat monk gasped and panted, his big belly and tits shaking with the aftershocks of his orgasm.
The power of these two men's climaxes triggered my own, and I cried out, though the sound was muffled by the thick penis filling my mouth, and my cock erupted with young boy cream, which disappeared down the metal drain grate almost as soon as it hit the floor.
The old man slumped back into the corner and his swollen cock popped free of my lips. I gulped in lungfuls of air as the three of us came down from our high. My ass felt hot, stretched, wrapped around the massive shaft as it pulsed within me.
The older monk muttered, "Benedictus, frater..." (be blessed, brother) and, placing one hand upon my head, he moved his hips forward, took his fat cock in one hand, and rubbed the still-leaking head upon my forehead, inscribing a cross upon the soft skin in two slow, deliberate intersecting strokes.
My cock throbbed again as I realized what he was doing, but I was unprepared for what came next.
A thick stream of golden liquid gushed from his cock's wide slit, drenching my face in its salty heat.
The monk behind me whispered into my ear, "Drink your communion, little brother." Then I felt the spreading warmth inside my ass, and I knew that the giant was pissing as well. The two of them baptized me in golden urine from each end of me. The fat monk's belly pushed into my forehead as the bloated helmet of his cock was again inserted into my mouth. I swallowed and swallowed the almost endless stream from the chubby monk's bladder. I wondered how long he had been saving that up, and whether he had been saving it specifically for me.
When both men had completely drained themselves, each monk pulled out, rinsed off and walked away to don their robes and disappear into the dark corridors of the monastery.
As I finished showering and releasing the golden flood from my ass, I rinsed off and dried myself, then slipped back into my robe. As I tied the cord about my waist, I wondered if I would recognize either of the monks enough to know them, if I encountered one or the other in some dim hallway or at service.
I knew, somehow, that if these two could enjoy the use of a young Novice, there were undoubtedly others of their like within the monastery's walls.
At last, I returned to my cell and knelt at the window, reciting the chants I had been taught and preparing for the day ahead. I had passed several other monks in the halls on the way back, but they merely nodded and passed in silence, perhaps blissfully unaware of what had just transpired. I imagined what each of them hid beneath those thick brown robes and my mouth watered.
All was well.
Sic erat pax.