The Pool and the Pastor

<>This is an entry for the

750 Word Project 2025

.

I'd always prayed in my life.

That was just part of my family.

It was part of the town, the community and the adjacent city. We were just one big loving world of Christians, with the best churches and nicest schools.

But none of it felt right. Which was why I'd constantly prayed.

When my family fell apart, and the Donaldson's took me in as a friend of their son Adam, I was grateful. We'd grown up together and they'd seen the horrors of my life and wanted to be "good christians".

Despite being the same age, Adam had always been like a big brother- his good looks and charisma made him popular at school, popular enough to protect this tall, skinny, effeminate young man with a difficult life.

And I truly grew to love Adam with all my heart...and body.

Which is why I prayed.

But we were both properly socialized and partnered, steered towards marriage just as we hit 20. I was heartbroken when that meant Adam would move out with his wife, but grateful that his parents -knowing my means- let me keep an apartment in their basement with my wife Carol.

The Donaldson's home was a relic from the '70s, a split level with the basement apartment even with the outdoor pool. When I was encouraged to father a child, the awkwardness of the act was made even worse by the gauzy curtains and giant sliding glass doors that led out onto the patio. I remember counting thrusts and praying that nobody would see us.

But one day I discovered that wasn't the case.

Adam's dad Ernest was a pleasant man of little words, a local pastor who'd parented from a distance but firmly. He was always pleased to have me around, and tried to use the teachings of Christ to guide me. One time he'd even referred to me as his "lost little soul".

So one weekend I'd just finished some yard work and gone for a swim, turning on some music while slipping into the basement shower. I'd just finished soaping myself up when I heard the curtain pulled aside and saw Ernest, in all his naked glory step in beside me.

"Shhhhh, I'm just here to help, alright?" I was aghast and rendered silent by shock. "I've seen you working your lady, and think I can help"

He turned my body away from the water and slipped his erection between my cheeks.

"I know its not in you boy, but you have to be firm to be a father," I felt a cold drizzle of gel cover my hole. The head of his cock began to push into me as my face was flattened against the tile. "You have to be a man to FUCK," Ernest emphasized this with a thrust that fully impaled me, and I could feel his hairy chest on my back as he reached around to grab-

- My cock was the hardest it had ever been, even when I'd fantasized about Adam. I'd spent so much time jerking off, thinking about him then praying for forgiveness with cum drying on my belly. I'd never considered his father could have been this way, and wondered how often he'd thought about this moment. How many times he had studied my girlish body and begged god to banish his evil thoughts.

In the shower though, my own prayers became moans as Mr. Donaldson pulled at my waist and filled my guts. I cried out to god for all the pleasure and pain I was feeling, and for the relief at finally being taken by a man.

Ernest had begun to furiously beat me off, eliciting a high pitched whine from me that signalled I was close and that he should complete the act. So the minute I shot my load, he dug into my hips with both hands and began a final assault.

To have a man inside you is one thing, to feel him fill your bowels as he moans and bellows behind you - its fucking heaven.

I struggled to hold up his collapsing heft, my spindly legs shaking as he began to disengage.

Ernest kissed the back of my head and whispered "Men like us can live happy lives if we're there for one another like this," Before he pulled out of my sore, leaking ass and disappeared.

Carol was pregnant soon after.

And I prayed for more guidance from Mr. Donaldson on how to be a good dad.