St. Thomas' Cathedral for the Prosperous and Wealthy. 3 By Bald Hairy Man
This is a story for adult men. It depicts gay sex. If this offends or bothers you, DO NOT READ IT. It is a fantasy and is not a sex manual, or a discussion of safe sex. If you have comments send them to winarch47@yahoo.com
The tornado and storm made a great change in the cathedral's life. The bishop was a widower. His wife had died five years earlier of cancer. She wrote a blog about her experiences with cancer. She was a perceptive and intelligent woman, and it was helpful to other cancer patients and their families. It was published after her death.
During the confused period after the storm, the bishop and Elizabeth grew close. I think that had been closer than we knew before the storm. They had a quiet marriage two months later. It was a joyful event for everyone.
Lucky and I were getting along well. He was affable and quiet. Our backgrounds were very different. I was academically oriented and educated. He had a poor education and had made a few miss steps. He was intelligent but non-academic. I had all the advantages my parents could give me. His parents we so self-absorbed they barely noticed the had a child. The sex was great for both of us. I told him about the Sextet and the post rehearsal events. He told me he was just getting used to sucking my cock. He wasn't sure he was ready for six.
St. Thomas experienced much better attendance after the tornado. Some were the people we had helped during the storm. Many of these were from different economic, social, and ethnic backgrounds than we were used to. We also attracted young upper-class families and individuals. They wanted to be involved in a church which had a socially active ministry. We had two Baptist families fleeing from their increasingly born-again church and a doctor, Ram Singh who seemed to feel in harmony with the Cathedral's approach to life.
Normally a large influx of new members would stress out the staid older members. Since the tornado had been an all-hands-on-deck event, many of the older members met a broad range of people for the first time. When the bishop and the African Methodist Minster cooked breakfast together, it was noted. Incidentally, the collection plate and offering envelopes were full.
The strangest change occurred in Carlotta Hobbs. She had last been in the Cathedral for her former husband's funeral on her way to Europe. After a year in Europe, she got sick. Her husband of the hour divorced her, and she was alone. When she returned home, the bishop was the only one to visit her.
The bishop didn't like her, but he had to help a person in need. He managed to reconcile her with her children who would still speak with her. Some of the ladies of the church visited her. She was a difficult woman. One woman told me that she had civil conversation with Carlotta lasted a half hour without having to bite her tongue even once. She was shocked.
One of her sons, Rudolph, returned to take care of her. Rudolph was her son by her second marriage with a movie producer named Rudolph de Mille. He was born as Rudolph Miller. His specialty was B Level sexploitation movies. I heard his great work was Cheerleaders Get Lucky. Rudolph fucked women, men, animals, and sex crazed vegetables. The marriage lasted four months. The son, Rudolph, was legitimate but born five months after the marriage was over. When Rudolph de Mille was shot in a sordid five- member marriage, his son inherited his estate.
His father's movies were trash. They made some money from drive-in theaters and third-rate theaters in the bad part of town. However, his father issued them on tape, before VCR tapes were common. Getting a full hour and a half hour movie with close ups engorged genitals was rare and unusual. They were mailed from third parties with first class postage, so they were below the radar. The tapes sold like hotdogs. Rudolph's inheritance from his father was substantial.
Rudolph was smart, energetic, and gay as a goose, but he also was a Bass. Walt was getting old, and he retired from the sextet. There was a place for Rudolph.
I was uneasy when I met Rudolph. I didn't know what to expect. He was surprisingly normal given his upbringing. For many his normal would be wildly eccentric, but he turned out to be a functioning eccentric. He was handsome and tall. He never made a pass or an off-color comment to anyone he didn't know. He never needed to make a pass. Men came to him.
He only liked mature men. I think he was looking for the father he never had. It seemed to me that having Carlotta as a mother could make heterosexuality unattractive. Carlotta wanted to leave her fortune to him alone, but Rudolph refused to take anything unless all her children were included. He already had his father's estate.
Rudolph immediately got along with Tony and the Sextet. Tony was the ultimate daddy type. Tony told him about the after-rehearsal party. He also said it was bare back. Rudolph told him he was tested, and then asked if trading personal fluids were an option. Tony told him that was almost a requirement.
Lucky was at the rehearsal. His truck was in the shop, and he was using my car. He knew Tony and Tony asked him if he wanted to stay for the party. Tony knew about my relationship with him. Lucky stayed.
Rudolph also seemed to take a shine to Jerry and Lucky. I'm not sure he knew many rednecks. One sang classical music, and the other was a genuine construction worker. Walt came to observe and participate in the post rehearsal events. Rudolph was interested in him too.
Rudolph was handsome and mega hung. He later told me that was his father's contribution. He used his cock to recruit actors and actresses for his porn epics. It also made dubbed in guest appearances in his porn epics. While he always paid the female actresses, the males were often paid in sperm. At one time, Rudolph claimed his father's cock was listed as a tourist attraction in Hollywood.
When you saw the Sextet, few people would think of them as dreamboats. Rudolph was the notably handsome and attractive man. He had no problem having sex with the older guys. The older men were willing to give and receive. Rudolph seemed to enjoy older men.
I had told Lucky that the men at the party were free agents. It was a pure sex party. The men weren't looking for partners. They were happy with fresh sperm served at body temperature.
"Are you sure about that?" he asked me. I said I had been coming to the party for over a year and I worked for me. An hour later I realized it worked for Lucky too.
Tony made Lucky feel welcome. Walt did the same for Rudolph. I later found out that Carlotta inherited her charm from her father. Rudolph claimed the words, fucking asshole, were invented for her father. Tony was the perfect TV dad, sensitive and caring. Walt was the perfect grand-dad type. For Rudolf a sexually active grand dad seemed normal. Walt was a nice man, but he also had no problem having sex with a young guy. Walt liked full penetration.
I saw Rudolph slowly easing his cock into Karl's ass. I was like a hot knife cutting through butter. Karl was a responsive bottom. Rudolph knew exactly how much Karl enjoyed it.
Technically the Sextet parties were homosexual orgies. I visualized orgies as being frantic and crude events. The Sextet parties were not much like ice cream socials, or ladies' teas. I though there were more like a specialize club, like a bridge or poker club. We were a friendly association interested in sex. there were no secrets or forbidden areas.
I also thought it might get boring or unsatisfying. For me, the more times I visited a man's ass, the better it was. My cock explored the ass seeking new sensations. My friends both explored my body and discovered some new places. I discovered I had a taste for what the guys called a "buff and shine."
I liked them to keep on thrusting even after the orgasm. Their knobs could spread their sperm as lubrication for the next cock. Eventually their relaced organ would pull out leaving only a few sperm drops. The drops were small, but opalescent. They shimmered in the light and gave the next man a place to aim for. Rudolph and Lucky became regulars.
You might think that having a cushy job as a music director for a cathedral would be easy and relaxing. You would be wrong. I admit that construction workers or ditch diggers is more physically demanding. My problem is with people.
My singers and musicians are fine. The bishop and most of the staff is fine. My problem focused on Malcomb Stanford Millicent, the director of special events for the cathedral. Malcomb was the nephew of Sandra Millicent, one of our oldest and most generous benefactors. She is a sweet, kind woman who could always help in a pinch. Her help was always anonymous. She believed that good works are their own reward and a tainted by praise.
I don't think that Malcomb is the devil's spawn anymore. I mentioned that to the bishop. He reminded me of the need to be charitable to all of God's creatures. I wasn't sure the devil was one of god's creatures. I knew enough to avoid discussing theology with a bishop.
Malcomb was not a people person. He could insult anyone at the perfect time, humiliate a person effortlessly, and he knew the exact wrong thing to say for every occasion. If the bride had a professional wedding planner, everything was fine. Even the most delicate and refined wedding planner had balls of steel and could rip Malcomb a new anus in his forehead without effort. Malcomb's prey is the mother with her only child. I usually try to get Elizabeth, the bishop's wife to sit in this situation.
I was stuck with dealing with Malcomb because of an error inherited from my parents. They believed it was never acceptable to be rude. You had to be polite when disagreeing with another person. Crude comments were never acceptable. Malcomb's approach to people was crude and insulting. I could meet with him and maintain a civil disposition. I could also calm the people he met with.
No good acts go unpunished. Malcomb had a heart attack. I was assigned by the bishop to help him is his long recovery. It had been a serious heart attack, but Malcomb was unwilling to obey his doctors or therapists. He always knew better. He often said he had studied at five colleges and universities. Somehow, he didn't mention that he was expelled from three and never got a degree from the others.
The cathedral was attentive to all its sick congregants. I had to visit Malcomb. He lived in a rundown mansion with a staff of a housekeeper-cook, the Butler-chauffeur, and a gardener. We had visiting nurses and physical therapists coming by several times a week. The staff was paid for by his aunt, and they did what she told them to do. There was heavy turnover in the medical people. It was a mess.
Tony knew people all over the town and he found people who could tame Malcomb. Milly Jones was a nurse who had spent a previous life teaching Atilla the Hun some manners. She was one of those persons who expected obedience and got it. Roosevelt Miller was a six-foot five physical therapist. He was an exceptionally black, Black man. He only gave orders, and no one disobeyed. They scared Malcomb. He complained to his aunt. She met with them, and they got along very well. She was not opposed to hard but fair, and she knew her nephew was a problem.
I went by every few days in the morning or the afternoon. I usually get along with people and I had no problem with Roosevelt or Milly. I am a problem solver. If they had a problem, I would try to resolve it.
Accidentally I discovered Roosevelt had a deep bass voice. Often when a voice is that deep it tends to sound like distant thunder. His voice had a range and flexibility that was unusual. I took him to visit the cathedral. He thought it was beautiful building. When he sang a song, I realized he had the voice of God, ideal for classical cantatas. I think he was shocked at the acoustics. He filled the room. I noticed he modified his pace to accommodate the echo,
At our next rehearsal I mentioned Roosevelt's voice to Tony. He knew nothing about Roosevelt's voice, but he did know about Roosevelt's sexual preferences. Tony was the deepest bass in the sextet, but there was room for another as back up.
"I think he might enjoy the post rehearsal entertainment too. He's a big boy, but he looks good even if his cock scares guys away," Tony said. He looked at me and added, "I don't think he would scare you."
I knew that adding a Black man to a previously all white group could be a problem. It wasn't. Roosevelt was intimidating, but when he began to sing it was wonderful. A little later the group discovered that a talented man was one thing, but a talented man with a world's fair exhibit hanging between his legs is another.
Roosevelt had no musical training; he was a natural. Once he heard a work, he seemed to understand it. His voice was perfect for Gregorian Chants, Classical Cantatas, and standard hymns. Of course, he excelled in spirituals. I was afraid the increased variety of musical works might upset the congregation. They seemed to know the voice of God, is the voice of God. It could not be questioned.
In our after-rehearsal parties, his cock was an attractive ornamental feature for some. To quote one man, "It's too fucking big!" That is not an insult when referring to a cock. Some saw it as a challenge. I was willing to work with it. Tony only had an oral connection with Roosevelt's cock. I had an itch in a hard-to-reach place that I wanted Roosevelt to scratch.
I was at Malcomb's house when a truck swerved to avoid a child running into the street and totaled Roosevelt's car. The cathedral has several cars and vans, do I called our dealer and arranged to get a rental car delivered to his home the next morning. It was too late to get that evening.
I drove him home, and he asked me in for a drink. He lived in a small house his mother left him. He told me about his new musical experiences with the sextet were good for him. He hadn't realized his voice was that notable. He mentioned the recreational aspect of the sextet's rehearsals were good too.
"I hope you noticed you are a hit there too," I said.
He laughed. "I had never been with a bunch of horny White guys before," he added. "I've been with a group of Black guys, but this was different."
"I what way?" I asked.
"It was kind of sedate. There wasn't that much fucking, and there was a lot less sticky white cream to cleanup," he said.
I laughed, "I did my bit," I said.
"Am I right in thinking you like it fresh from the spigot?" he asked. "Do you take it in the ass too?" I nodded. "I like a tight ass," he added.
"I assume all asses are tight for you," I said.
"I run into two types of guys. There are those who take it as a dare, and there are those who want it bad," Roosevelt explained. "I never fuck a guy to teach him a lesson, but I do give free samples to the man with a needy ass."
"I assume you know which group I am in?" I asked.
He smiled and said that he sure did. We went to his bedroom. He told me he had a new bath and shower room. It was the first step in upgrading the house. We sucked a little in the shower and then got down to business in the bedroom.
"We've reached the point of no return," he said. "Sometimes I can stop and pull out, sometimes I can't. once I'm in I almost always unload"
Except for his cock he was calm and relaxed. I realized his cock provided all the excitement he needed. I was nervous. I had volunteered to take his cock and would be embarrassing if I couldn't take his tool. I soon realized he had experience in getting his cock into tight spaces.
I said that I understood.
I didn't need to worry. His cock seemed to know when it encountered a rough spot, and he would shift a little and find a better way. Soon, I knew he would get it all in. I relaxed and he pushed a few inches deeper. I liked it when his encountered my prostate and returned to it to renew the relationship. His cock was in continuous contact with the gland. Eventually I couldn't tell what he was doing. I only knew It was good.
Sometimes a cock is an invader in your ass. Roosevelts' cock belonged in me. I could all but feel his pleasure. Sometimes a cock is just an object in your ass. His cock was alive and had a plan. I had a strange thought that my ass was hungry and needed to be fed. Even stranger, I only wanted Roosevelt's homemade high test. I was in a sexual haze when I felt his first ejaculation. Of course, I couldn't tell how long he ejaculated. When he pulled out, I still wanted more.
"Damn, you're a keeper," he muttered. I was afraid it was better for me that it was for him. That was not a problem. I made sure he knew how much I enjoyed it. I got dressed and went home.