Visit from the Pastor
“Unnnnh,” whined the younger.
“Come on! Five minutes.”
“Dad,” groaned the older one. “Can we stay home.”
“Fine,” the funeral employee and pastor hissed walking away leaving the door open.
The husband and father of three walked downstairs and into the kitchen. He heated up a microwavable breakfast sandwich consisting of an English muffin, American cheese, egg, and turkey sausage. He poured a glass of orange juice and spent less than six minutes scarfing it down. He put his dishes in the sink, grabbed his brown Heritage Flapover briefcase made from Colombian leather, garment bag containing his pastoral robe, and keys. He loaded up his blue 2012 Chevy Suburban LY with tan leather interior.
Rev. Mack backed out of the driveway and left the neighborhood. Since he had no family to wrangle this morning, he was a little ahead of schedule. The drive to the small, rural St. Mark Church took just a little over 80-minutes. In his denomination, ministers were assigned to charges by the region’s Presiding Bishop and the district’s Dean of Clergy. The assignments were typically two years in length and Russell was 18-months into his tenure with the charming parish.
As he drove alone, he listened to one of his favorite evangelists. It was a nice way to get his head in the game – something he rarely had an opportunity to do. This weekend his wife of twenty years, Sandra, was out of town with their sixteen-year-old daughter for a cheer competition. They would be returning sometime in the early afternoon.
He arrived at the church right before 9:30 a.m. Sunday Church School would begin in about 15-minutes. There were two older men already there – b*o. Smith and b*o. Jackson – both members of the governing committee.
“Good morning, gentlemen! How are y’all doing today,” inquired the smiling minister.
“Real good, pastor,” replied b*o. Smith.
“Doin’ fine, Rev. Mack,” added b*o. Jackson.
“That’s good to hear!”
“Where’s the family,” b*o. Smith quizzed.
“Sandra and Alia went to a cheerleading competition this weekend. And, the boys…Well they’re boys.”
“Say no more,” b*o. Jackson reassured him having raised four sons of his own.
The men shared a hearty laugh and began to prep for others to arrive.
The services went very smoothly. Church School had 17 attendees between the 5 class divisions. And, there 33 people in attendance for worship services. Rev. Mack delivered an inspirational sermon about overcoming obstacles from Matthew 16:21-28. The congregation was roused. After benediction, he socialized with the congregants for a few moments before meeting with the governing committee. He collected his weekly paycheck.
This afternoon, he needed to visit the only member of the church roster who was on the sick-and-shut-in list, s*s. Aurelia Lee. Rev. Mack was accompanied s*s. Mary Jackson, head of the Stewardess Board, in her silver 2015 Cadillac CTS. And b*o. Mark Daniels, the youngest member of the governing committee, in his metallic gray 2010 Toyota Tacoma Access Cab pick-up truck. The entourage arrived at s*s. Lee’s quaint house and huddled together before going inside.
s*s. Lee was elated to see her visitors. The eighty-three-year-old, retired schoolteacher sat upright in a recliner with an afghan over her lap. The television was tuned to a cable news channel. Each member of the group greeted her with a hug.
The widow and grandmother of four called out, “Casey, dear, will you bring out some lemonade and tea cakes?”
“Yes, Gamma,” a soft voice confirmed.
As Rev. Mack read a Bible passage, a five-foot-ten, café-au-lait-colored, androgynous-looking guy with a perfectly lined-up S-curl hair cut arrived carrying a tray. He sat it on the coffee table and poured a glass for everyone and then placed two of the cookies on small clear plastic saucers.
“Well, hello, doctor,” beamed s*s. Jackson.
“Hey,” replied the man. “How are you?”
“I’m good. And you?”
“Where are my manners,” interjected Aurelia. “Rev. Mack this is my grandson, Casey. Casey this is our pastor, Rev. Mack.”
“Nice to meet you, sir,” the thirty-two-year-old said extending his hand.
“Likewise,” replied Russell.
“He’s a doctor,” s*s. Jackson added.
“Very nice,” Rev. Mack smiled. “What specialty?”
“E.R. Hey Mark! How are you?”
“I’m fine Casey. And you,” Mark asked.
“I’m well. Just came to see Gamma for the weekend.”
“That was sweet of you,” s*s. Jackson worked her way back into the conversation.
Casey took a seat and accepted the sacrament when Rev. Mack administered communion. After another 15 minutes of polite conversation, the group decided to disperse. The Lees thanked them for coming.
Casey announced, “Gamma, I’m going to run to the store. Do you want anything?”
“I can’t think of anything,” she said.
“If you do, just call me.”
Casey was right behind the group and started up the white economy-sized rental car. Everyone turned right onto right except for Mark. A mile later, s*s. Jackson made a left to go towards her house. Now Casey was behind, Russell Mack.
Casey flashed his lights repeatedly. The Suburban slowed down and pulled off to the side of the quiet road. Rev. Mack got out of his SUV. The six-foot, two-hundred-ten-pound dark-skinned man with a 36-waist walked towards Casey.
“Something wrong,” inquired the pastor.
“I’m not sure,” Casey said giving puppy-dog eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“I thought you might wanna pray for me or lay hands on me or something?”
“Is that right,” Russell grinned. “I am charged with meeting the needs of the people.”
“True! I know a spot where we can go.”
“I’ll follow you.”
Casey pulled back onto the road and drove a couple of miles. He made a right and went down this meandering lane for a mile-and-a-half. He took a left onto a dirt road. Another mile or so and they ended up in a clearing that had a deteriorating shack. Casey parked behind the building and Russell next to him.
Casey got out of the Chrysler 200. He still had on the electric blue skinny jeans and a red fitted graphic tee. He climbed into the passenger side of the SUV.
“Well, hello,” Russell said with a chuckle.
“Hello,” winked Casey.
“Why did you pick this place?”
“Oh, my grandmother owns it. This is where my granddad grew up. I used to play here with my cousins during summers.”
“What made you come out here to preach,” inquired the physician.
“Well, we go where we are called,” Russell replied.
“Poppycock! Nobody wants to stay at St. Mark’s.”
“This is my third parish. I got into the ministry in my mid-thirties. I had to finish my associate’s degree to get ordained. Believe it or not, my other two churches were smaller.”
“Cool. Gamma seems to like you.”
“The question is do you like me?”
“I like what I see.”
“Really,” pressed the father of three as he loosened in light-blue patterned tie.
“Yeah! You know we were making eye contact at the house,” Casey reminded him.
“I’m not used to seeing someone that looks like you around here.”
“Let’s just say you’re uh…well…stylish.”
“Ha,” laughed Casey. “That’s one way to put it.”
“I mean it, Casey,” Russell reassured him.
“Oh, I believe you. I’m quite ‘stylish’,” Casey made air quotes as he said it. “And I don’t take offense. I’m quite proud of my style.”
“You should be.”
“Of course! It intrigued you.”
“My stylishness made you curious.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Let’s see,” the visitor started. “You couldn’t stop staring at me on the sly. You replied with innuendo after my innuendo. You followed me down a couple of country lanes in a small, country town you’re not familiar with. And you have me in your big man truck. Fair?”
“Oh wow,” Russell thought aloud. “You sure you’re not a psychiatrist?”
“No. I just know people and I really know men,” Casey stated matter-of-factly.
“Well,” Rev. Mack said shifting in his seat.
“It’s all good,” Casey continued. “I’m guessing you’re married with c***dren. You enjoy the respect you get from the congregation. Sometimes you feel taken for granted. You hate going to annual church conferences because of the archaic protocol and long meetings that result in nothing. But, you like the time away from family to focus on you. The hotels are usually nice and of course paid for by your congregation. There’s one or two effeminate ministers of music or choir directors or piano players that flirt with you on the low. You may have messed around with one of them. But probably only one night per conference so as not to bring attention. You always wonder who else is doing what you do. Just a guess.”
“Wow,” was all Russell could muster.
“Please forgive me. I can easily become cynical,” apologized Casey.
“No, no, no! Don’t apologize. I’m just intrigued you came up with all that after our brief meeting in a group.”
“I don’t know it to be true. There are some generalities and assumptions in there.”
“What if I said you were 80-percent accurate?”
“I’d believe you. Am I?”
“Pretty much,” Russell grinned placing his right hand on Casey’s left knee.
“The players may have changed, but the game remains the same,” Casey giggled.
Russell joined in the laughter.
“What else do you know about me,” checked the minister.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me,” pressed the doctor.
“What would you like to know?”
“Where did you grow up?”
“In the south part of the state in Adams City.”
“Did you like it?”
“It was fine. You know the drill. Did okay in academics. Excelled at sports. Went to college on a partial scholarship. Got hurt. Loss funding. Dropped out. Got a job. Got married. Had k**s.”
“I was always different so I spent a lot of time by myself. Made good grades. Was thrilled to leave for college. Studied hard. Played harder. Was shocked I kept a decent GPA. Went to med school.”
“Yeah, we got the standard stuff out the way,” remarked Casey.
“So, it seems,” confirmed Russell.
“Shall I just call you ‘Rev. Mack’?”
“Oh! My bad. I’m Russell. Or Russ.”
“I like ‘Russell’! It screams ‘brut and Braun’.”
“You flatter me.”
“That’s the plan.”
Russell blushed, “It’s gettin’ a li’l warm in here.”
“I bet it is,” Casey placed his hand on top of Russell’s.
Russell cleared his throat awkwardly.
“So, let’s go beyond the surface details. When was the last time you fucked someone like me,” Casey asked bluntly.
“Huh,” the mortician stalled.
“Sex with a femboi. When was the last time, Russell?”
“It was…uh…it was…um…about four months ago.”
“How did it go down?”
“My wife and I volunteered for a church district service project with ‘Homes 4 People’,” began Russell. “There were about 20 or 25 of us total. There was a deli that donated boxed lunches for us and I was asked to pick it up. One of the ministers of music from a large congregation got chosen to go with me. He had sucked my dick before. We pulled off behind an abandoned house. He sucked me and begged me to fuck him. I bent him over. It was a quickie.”
“Oh, nice! Thanks for sharing,” Casey smiled. “Would you fuck him again?”
“Maybe. He’s not really my type.”
“Not sure. He’s cute. Just not sure I like his spirit. I know it’s weird.”
“No. Not at all. Doesn’t sound like there’s that spark or chemistry.”
“When was the first time you fucked a femboi?”
“Oh, that was a while ago,” Russell began the story. “It was right after I hurt my knee and lost my scholarship. I ended up getting a job at a grocery store. I shared an apartment with two other dudes that I’d played football with. The bakery manager lived in the same complex with me so I would ride to work or back home with him on occasion. He was in his thirties and super femme. He invited me over one day to watch a movie and have some drinks. I thought there would be a few people, but it as just us. I was drinking gin and juice with him. I got drunk as hell and tore his big booty up. I hit it like three times that night. I fucked him once or twice a day most days till I moved at the end of the summer.
“That’s hot,” exclaimed Casey.
“Yeah! He turned me out. Then I got married and chilled out,” Russell confessed.
“But not completely.”
“True. So, when did you last get fucked?”
“Okay. You’re honest. That’s good. Who was it?”
“One of the security guards that patrols my building.”
“It is. He’s sexy and good at what he does.”
“I’ll take your word for it.”
“You’re sexier. I love older men. I have daddy issues apparently.”
“I think you have a nice ass and pretty lips,” Russell shared.
“Thank you,” Casey said. “Let those seats down in the back and I’ll let you have both.”
Russell jumped out quickly and fixed the two rows of seats. Casey climbed into the back.
Russell took off his navy Lauren by Ralph Lauren suit pants and brown Stacy Adams dress loafers. He removed his tie and pale-pink button-down shirt. He was simply decked out in a black A-shirt and tan dress socks.
Casey had also stripped down. His round ass was smooth and cover with red lace hipster panties. He was sitting froggy style shaking his cheeks.
“That’s what Daddy likes,” salivated Russell.
“Good,” Casey smiled as he crawled over and grabbed the pastor’s dick. “Ooh, daddy! It’s big and juicy!”
“You like that?”
“Well, put that mouth on it!”
Casey began to suck the nine-inch dick with the mushroom the head. He tickled Russell’s balls he worked the pole.
Russell groaned and enjoyed the blowjob.
“Do you like my sissy mouth,” inquired Casey.
“Oh, yeah,” confirmed Russell. “You good at what you do, baby boi!”
Casey continued sucking until Russell announced he wanted to slide inside that hole. Casey bent over and Russell got behind him.
Russell spread the cheeks apart and licked the booty hole. He munched on it for a minute then spat on it. He tried to work his large dick head into the pussy. It finally popped in and he eased his meat deeper.
Casey winced as Russell’s manhood entered him. He relished the feeling of being taken by a man – a self-identified straight, manly, married, brusque man. For some reason, it made him feel complete. It took him to a place of pure, blissful, nirvana. The first time he had been deflowered by the United States Army Major who led the ROTC program at his alma mater, had transported him to another realm. The feel of a wise, mature, handsome, masculine brotha’s manhood filling up his soft, feminine, demure, love hole was other-worldly. And now, Rev. Russell Mack was taking on trip to that revered place.
“Oh, daddy,” purred Casey. “Take me!”
“Yeah, baby boi,” grunted Russell. “This boipussy feels good!”
“Thank you, daddy! Your dick is taking me there!”
“It’s your dick!”
“Pump this faggot ass with that big Black dick!”
“Oh, yeah! Deep in that boipussy. It’s so tight, baby boi!”
Russell’s cock throbbed. It had been four months since he had fucked some ass, but it was a rushed affair with someone with whom he did not really vibe. Before that, it been about a year. The sissy ass he was fucking felt so good, he wondered why he hadn’t spent time finding a main sissy for himself. He thought about how much he would love to fuck Casey every day.
“Get on your back, sweetie,” Russell said. “You got some good boipussy. I wanna make love to it!”
Casey laid down and pulled his back. He felt the girth of Russell’s massive prick reenter his inner sanctum. He could tell Rev. Mack was savoring the sensation of his warm, wet faggy pussy. He loved how the preacher was going balls deep using long, deliberate, powerful strokes. It was intense. His hazel eyes locked with Russell’s dark brown ones. No words were spoken, but the emotion and passion were understood. He needed everything that Sandra’s husband was giving him.
“Oh, my god,” wailed Casey. “I love how you fuck me!”
Russell yelled, “This pussy is like cotton candy on my dick! I love it!”
“Give it to me,” begged Casey as he rubbed his soft hands all over Russell’s back and firm, muscular butt.
“You makin’ me feel special!”
“You are special, daddy!”
“Ooh, baby! Ooh, baby! Ooh, ooh, ooh, baby!”
Casey knew what was about to happen. He saw Russell start to tremble and clinch his eyes closed. He felt the man’s back tense. It was his d**g. He craved it.
Russell roared as he balls overheated and his dick erupted. He soaked Casey’s insides. He collapsed on top of his effeminate lover.
Casey whispered in Russell’s ear, “God! That felt so good!”
“Yeah,” Russell gasped.
“I have to drive your way to go to the airport tomorrow. I’d love a sendoff.”
“Yeah! Let’s do that. I know a place we can go.”