Gay Erotic Stories

Resting in his church in the evening was something he always did. Just taking a time of its own, in his church, letting his senses relax, his mood wander, his spirit flow toward the lights of the candles, bathing his whole being in the after smell of hot burning candle, wax and incense...

Father Timothy Wilkinson was known in his parish for being a quiet, simple man, easy to talk to...a people’s Minister. Yes, his popularity was because of his ever so British sense of humour, his wonderful accent from the Midlands and his good-looking features. What can I say, Fr. Wilkinson was in his 40s, a tall, handsome man, with sparkling dark eyes, almost no hair left on his head, which he compensated by showing a nice thick brushy moustache, His Roman collar shirt were always crisp and immaculately pressed, and well, being human, Fr. Wilkinson enjoyed smoking his pipe. I can remember the smell of his aromatic blend, something woody, with a light smell of vanilla and black currants.

Even if he arrived in this part of the world after he graduated from Cambridge Theological college 15 years ago, he never really forget his homeland, enjoying nice English pub food, a pint once in a while, baked bean on toasts with Cumberland sausages for breakfast and, his pleasure, a nice cup of tea. He even had in the rectory a whole stock of PG tea bags shipped directly from his native England.

But tonight, Timothy Wilkinson was unable to relax, unable to let his mind do his evening prayers like he would normally do. His mind was drawn to a much more down to earth topic...if we can call it a topic...

The so called topic actually had two pearly blue eyes, a lovely blond face, soft but muscular hands, a nice smooth body, a white range of teeth, and a sibilant accent. At first father Wilkinson thought that the accent and its owner were from Spain or Southern Europe...well...he really had a laugh when he discovered that that person was actually from Iceland, did not even speak a word of Spanish, and was visiting some relatives here for two weeks before flying back to his native Reykjavik.

What was going on? Never since he decided to become a minister, Canon Wilkinson have had such sleazy ideas in his head. Okay, yes, he enjoyed taking care of himself, and Mother Nature having been very generous with him, he enjoyed playing with his cock and balls...almost daily.

It is not because you've made the choice of wearing a clerical collar, that your hormones will automatically shut down, your testosterone will vanish in Heaven and your sexuality will be history...and Fr. Wilkinson was glad about that. He hah had the chance to go on holidays in some tropical resorts and well, he was sure proud of the looks some women, and some guys had given him when he appeared on the beach in his fully packed swimming suit, his beach flip flops, his backpack with a logo "Good men were black" on it, his nice oak tanned body, and with what was left over from 5 years of rugby practice while he was in school in England.

He always enjoyed laying lazily under the sun, while reading anything from a theological book from St. Thomas to the last Jeffrey Archer. Tanning easily, the nice soft pelt of hair that was dusting his upper chest was shining like old mahogany wood...also, a funny trick of his was when he was done with his sunbathing, to pack his things and before leaving the beach, to put one of his short sleeved clerical shirts on. You could see the disappointment on some people's faces.

Fr. Wilkinson was a sexy man and tonight, he was also a horny minister.

Father Wilkinson laid lazily on his seat, by the choir, and let his mind continue wondering toward one candle...the flickering dancing light seemed like a friendly voice, calling him, "Come on Tim...is there anything you want to say?"

The voice was so real, so rich and so warm. Father Wilkinson felt a warmth invading his heart, he felt like answering back, "If only I had someone with me...someone to hold, to kiss and to love. I feel so lonely tonight...so lonely."

"Would you be a happier man?" asked the voice in his head.

"Why do you ask that? Of course yes…look at me, I have no one to talk to, nobody to kiss…"

"And..."

Father Wilkinson remained silent…

"Come on...spit it out…" ........... "Admit it, you’re horny like a teenager, and if it keeps on like this, your penis will burst a hole in your left pocket."

Father Wilkinson blushed. "Yes...awfully horny. And I am fed up having to masturbate every single evening." There was a silence for a while; you could hear the wooden panels in the church gently cracking and creaking.

"Close your eyes," said the voice gently.

Father Wilkinson closed his eyes and waited...he felt a soft breeze twirling around him and warming his body like a hot summer ray of sunshine.

His lips felt the tingle of being brushed by something alive, fleshy. Father could feel a breath against his face; he opened his lips and kissed who ever was kissing him in return. The feeling was so human, so real, the tongue was mixing with his own, twirling in his mouth like a gentle twister, blending the fresh scent of eternity in his surrendered soul. Father Wilkinson wanted to open his eyes, but did not…he could feel the cheek of someone against him, the smoothness of the skin, the warmth of the body against his....

He wanted the feeling to keep on; the kiss was too soft, too awesome, too smashing to be true. Something was rubbing against his chest, he was fully dressed and he could definitely feel a soft touch on his chest, enveloping his body with stars, his senses were becoming like the trade winds…wild, free, fresh. He was floating in a completely unknown dimension, and let things go.

"Ohh yes...play with my nipples...bloody shit...touch my skin..."

"Sshhhhh...Relax...."

He could feel a gentle bite on his nipples while, as the same time, his whole chest was being caressed by warm, powerful hands. Something was teasing his manhood and Father Wilkinson opened his legs, exposing his now aroused crotch to whatever was happening.

He could feel fingers wrapping his by now rock solid erection. He moaned

"Whoa..." said the voice with an admireative tone " I knew you were big...but this is really a massive thing you’ve got here. What I am supposed to do with it?"

Father Timothy grinned and said, "Well, you could try to paint the sky with stars with it but I would not recommend it."

"Don’t be silly... What I meant was...how do you want this...this...big pack of cock being serviced?"

"Any way you want."

And before he’d even finished his sentence, father Timothy could feel his cockhead being pressed against something tight. He opened his legs wider and pushed…the head popped in what seemed like some sort of hole, a warm fleshy hole...better than an asshole.

"Yes." he moaned, "I’m gonna fuck you...gonna empty myself in you...can you take it? Take my big slab of cockmeat inside of you..."

Father was pushing, rather ramming his massive erection inside, deeper and deeper, until he felt his balls pressed against something fleshy. "I’m gonna give it to you good. I’m gonna fuck you good and hard."

And fuck he did. Alternating long and short strokes, deep or gentle, just putting his cockhead inside or the whole 9-inches in one powerful thrust, feeling in the rim of his mushroom shaped cockhead millions of tingling sensations, grinding his pelvis against the thing, pushing his cock deeper than he thought he could ever reached, feeling electric chocks all along his cock, his balls were churning, his whole body was like if he actually escaped his fleshy envelope, floating in between life and orgasm.

He could feel his cock buried in something alive, feeling himself alive, not only with desire but with lust, with pure sleazy lust, his organ being excited beyond any belief and his balls aching, churning, trying to push through the massive mancock all the sperm he had stocked in his testicles...

Father Wilkinson could feel his skin getting electric, like if someone was passing 220V all through his hairy chest. His nerves were beyond anything he has ever felt, and he knew he was about to cum.

"Come on…Tim…spit it out, give me your stuff...yeah...like that huh, fucking like a bull, a big bull with a massive cock and bull shaped balls..."

And in a last spasm of energy, while above him Mars was passing near the Moon, and while in a monastery somewhere, Vespers were sung, Father Wilkinson came, like a manic, spurting heavy and thick gush of sperm all around...sending his male juice in the Universe, in the sky, creating his own milky way...a man made one...

He let the feeling of ecstasy ease gently. Never in a long time as he ever felt that well, that good.

"Whoa! What was that?" he thought.

"Did you like it?" said the voice.

"Bloody shit...whoops, sorry ugh...fucking hell…damn...well...you bet! Yes, I certainly did!"

"Now...do you feel ready to listen what I wanted to tell ya?"

"Hold on a minute... You wanted to tell me something? But who are you?"

"The one that just made you cum. Now listen...I am always here...ask and you will receive."

Father Wilkinson remained silent...this was out of this world. Either he was going insane, or it was beyond any logical explanation.

"Yes." said the voice.

"I haven't said anything yet, " said Father Wilkinson.

"I know...but I know that you’re dying to see how much Icelandic you could learn...go then. " "With Him?"

"Absolutely! Go, be gentle with your cock, don't hurt the poor boy and enjoy. You've asked...so you receive."

"But he is a man." "Yes...and so are you! Come on--stop talking rubbish! Shoo! Go to the rectory, he is waiting for you by your door. You guys have a nice night...don't forget your night prayers. I'll keep an eye on you."

That was too much. Father Wilkinson opened his eyes, and the church was empty.

Not only that but also his clerical uniform was still immaculate, his underwear (oh, actually he did not put any underwear on today...) well, his trousers, which should have been sticky with his sperm, were certainly not wet nor sticky. What was all that about?

Father picked his jacket and, leaving the church through the chapel, he turned the alarm on and locked the door behind him.

Outside, the sky was cloudless, and he could see the Milky Way. Mars, reddish was near the moon, and Orion was low on the horizon.

He passed the railway track and headed toward the Rectory.

"Fathir Wilkinshown..." said a young man with an Icelandic accent. "I wanted sho mutsch to shee you."

Father Wilkinson smiled and raised his eyes toward the sky.

A shooting star was passing right above them

"Never alone " repeated the voice...