A beautifully mellow bell somewhere in the Vatican complex chimed seven as Bishop Manzini crossed the marble floor of the large hallway leading to Cardinal Barcola’s private chambers. The Bishop suspected the general nature of the urgent call to him but, of course, not the specifics as these changed with each request. The floor was slippery, and several times the forty-five-year-old Bishop had to correct his balance. He silently cursed his new Italian loafers. He had stopped to purchase them on an impulse shortly after arriving in Rome late that afternoon. Then he had had a hasty dinner at one of his favorite pasta places and then come directly to the Vatican.
A handsome young priest sat at an ornate desk outside Cardinal Barcola’s private office. He stood up and smiled as he saw Father Manzini approach. The young man beamed as Manzini walked up and took both the younger priest hands in his.
“Welcome back to Rome, Father,” the young priest said effusively.
Manzini looked into the young priest’s sparkling blue eyes, the same eyes as those of his father, Cardinal Barcola.
“Ah, Francesco, you get more handsome each time I visit. What secret potion do you swallow to attain such beauty?”
The young priest laughed.
“I work out three days a week at the gym. I also swim. And I indulge in getting a massage several times a week. The rest was a gift from God.”
Bishop Manzini looked deeply into the eyes of the amazingly handsome young priest.
“And that’s not all. Perhaps you swallow the elixir of teenage boys several times a day?” The young priest blushed. A pale rose color spread across his handsome white face. “I fucked you countless times. You’ve called me uncle ever since you first sucked my dick when you were nine.”
The handsome young priest broke out laughing, the sound filling the enormous, empty chamber. Then he leaned up and kissed the older priest on the mouth. Bishop Manzini opened his lips to accept the tongue of the young priest. The two men stood there swapping spit, and Bishop Manzini felt the large cock of the younger priest pushing against him through their robes.
“Will we have a chance to be together while you are here, Bishop?” Francesco asked, pulling out of the kiss and looking up at the taller man.
“Come, come, you have no need for the dick of an older priest. You have all the fresh young cock you can handle with all those altar boys and seminary students. And then, of course, the Vatican Guard. With your good looks, there’s no shortage of fuck.”
Francesco’s became very serious.
“You know I would give up all of that in an instant to come live with you in America. Besides, Father keeps a tight rein on me. He is terrified, of course, considering his position, that someone will find out I’m his son.”
“The world thinks you are a foundling raised by the loving Cardinal. It shall remain so. How is the old bugger?”
“As randy as ever; he’s waiting for you. He said to send you right in.”
Bishop Manzini nodded and moved passed the young priest to the large intricately carved oaken door. Young Father Francesco grabbed the older man by the sleeve.
“Seriously, Gorgio, my ass will be waiting for your call. And you remember what a good cocksucker I am.”
Bishop Manzini smiled fondly at the young priest.
“The very best; I’ve never had better. Let me get settled here and find out my schedule, and then I’ll call you, I promise.”
Francesco’s eyes had a slight sadness in them.
“I’m better than those thirteen-year-olds you favor. I can make you feel better.”
Bishop Manzini put his hand to the young priest’s cheek.
“Sweet boy, there is no question of your skill. You’re never far out of mind.”
Then Bishop Manzini opened the door and entered the opulent private chambers of Cardinal Barcola.
The Cardinal was in his seventies, but he was still a hearty, healthy man. His skin, although somewhat leathery-looking, had a golden tan from hours in the sun. His hair was a mane of silver, and his blue eyes twinkled. He was seated in a large antique chair of red and gold. He wore a flowing white robe and a beautiful silver cross with jewels adorned his chest. One of the many things that attracted Cardinal Barcola to the church was the opulence. Bishop Manzini folded his hands and stood silently, taking in the glowing grandeur of Cardinal Barcola in his gilt chair.
“You are as magnificent as ever, Cardinal.”
Bishop Manzini laughed, but the Cardinal only grunted in return. He raised one hand, and a finger gestured for Manzini to wait just a moment. Then he grunted again and twisted in his chair. His eyes rolled up in his head, and he made a whistling noise.
“Oh, fuck…that’s it…that’s it…swallow…swallow every bit, you fucking bitch!” he yelled, his voice bouncing off the walls covered with portraits of church officials who looked down on him. “Suck it. Suck it and swallow, you fucking piece of shit!”
Bishop Manzini looked around but verified that the two men were alone in the room. Then he saw something moving under the Cardinal’s white cassock. He also heard the sound of slurping and coughing.
“Don’t you spill a fucking drop or, I swear to Christ, I will whip your ass until it is nothing but a bloody pulp.”
His hand went down to press on the rising and falling lump between his legs. The old man arched his back and threw his silver mane of hair, and then, after a moment, relaxed. A serene smile replaced the suffering look of a moment before.
“Good, very good, you did a good job. You’ll get better, but that was very good.”
And out from under his robe crawled a naked boy of no more than five or six years of age. The child looked like a cherub from a Renaissance painting. His little body was perfectly proportioned, and he had a head of soft, golden hair. His face was beautiful, and his lips were covered with sperm. Jutting from his smooth hairless groin was an erect half-inch pricklet. As the boy climbed to his feet, he saw Bishop Manzini, and he looked shyly at the floor. He stood there naked, staring at his little pink toes, hands at his side like a little soldier, a little soldier of the Lord.
The Cardinal reached out and ruffled the boy’s head of hair. Then his hand slid down, and he cupped the boy’s tiny ass globes in one hand. He slid a finger up between the little boy’s ass cheeks and probed the tiny baby asshole.
“Say hello to Bishop Manzini,” he whispered as if cueing the cherub.
“Good evening, Bishop Manzini,” the angel said in the high beautiful voice of a choirboy.
“This is Angelo, he sings in the Vatican Children’s Choir. He was fucked for the first time two nights ago, and his tiny ass is still a bit sore, isn’t that right, Angelo?”
The Cardinal worked his finger deeper into the tiny ass. Bishop Manzini felt his dick growing harder under his robes.
“And you’re the one who fucked him, of course.”
“Of course! They don’t get into the children’s choir unless I fuck them.”
“And how many boys are in the children’s choir at present?”
Cardinal Barcola let forth with a hearty bellow.”
“Ha! Over forty, at last count.”
“Cardinal, you are incorrigible.”
The old man in the chair tilted the soft small face of the darling boy up to look into his eyes.
“Go wash, my darling. Bishop Manzini is a good friend of mine, and he may want to fuck your ass later tonight.”
“But Father, my ass is still hurting from your big cock. It hurts very much.” The boy’s voice was like a flute.
“That’s something you’ll have to get used to, my dear. There are many bishops and cardinals here who will want to fuck your sweet little boy pussy, and many of them have dicks larger than mine. In time, your tiny ass will accommodate, and the pain will lessen. Until then, you just have to suffer as Jesus suffered. No, go wash!”
Cardinal Barcola smiled and patted the boy on the head and withdrew his finger from the tiny ass. The little boy began to pad on bare feet toward the other end of the room.
“Ah, ah, ah, ah! Aren’t we forgetting something?” the Cardinal said, just the slightest note of sternness in his voice.
The boy turned with a confused look. Then suddenly, he remembered.
“Sorry, sir,” he said in his piping treble.
Then the bare-ass naked boy fell to his hands and knees and proceeded to crawl from the room.
“If you start them young, they belong to the church all their lives. All of this nonsense of priests being brought up on molestation charges stems from the fact that the boys are already too old when the priests fuck them. They develop ideas of their own. They look upon sucking and fucking as a bad thing because of what they hear and see on the media and so forth. Start out a boy at four or five, and he will be no problem.”
“With all due respect, Cardinal, some of us prefer our sucking and fucking with boys a little older.”
Manzini walked to his friend who rose from his chair and the two men embraced.
“True, but the boys can be initiated at a younger age and then passed along to others as they grow older. Let’s face it. We know which priests favor eleven-year-olds, and which prefer thirteen-year-olds. We could work out a very efficient system so that by the time a boy reaches fifteen or sixteen, he is too fucked up to ever report any abuse. He will be convinced that any sin committed was his own fault. That he is the evil one. This is not difficult to do with the proper techniques. We have taught classes in this, but many priests just don’t seem to get it. If you show a boy that you are guilty and afraid, he will someday use your own fear and guilt against you.”
“Well, my dear friend, that’s an issue that will not be settled tonight.”
“Yes, and meanwhile, we’re losing millions each year in lawsuits. Please, take a chair. How was your flight?
“Pietro, some wine.”
“My flight was fine.”
From out of the shadows appeared a slender beautiful dark haired boy of twelve or thirteen carrying a wine carafe. The boy was entirely naked but had a long light cloth draped over his body, giving him the image of a young Ancient Roman slave, or perhaps a Greek God. The fabric was draped over one shoulder and hung across the boy’s pale white body so that one nickel sized brown nipple showed on the smooth boyish chest. The way it moved and swung gave only glimpses of the child’s penis and scrotum—tantalizing glimpses for sure.
“Who is this?”
“This is Pietro, one of my serving boys. He also sings in the choir, but alas, his balls have just dropped, and his voice is changing.” The Cardinal lifted the cloth to give Manzini a better look at the boy’s dangling cock and scrotum. “That’s right, I forgot, you prefer boys who have just entered puberty. I’ll send Pietro to your bed with you tonight. He’s a wonderful fuck. His cunt muscles milk a prick to ejaculation, don’t they Pietro?”
“I do my best, Father!” the boy said.
“All this father business, just to be clear, he’s not also your—”
Cardinal Barcola roared with laughter.
“Goodness no, I’m no longer such a stallion.”
The boy poured a glass of wine for Bishop Manzini, who allowed his hand to stroke the child’s pale, silken flesh.
“Go on, feel his nuggets. As I say, they’ve just dropped.”
Bishop Manzini allowed his hand to cup the boy’s dangling balls. The sack was softer than velvet, and the nuts inside like grapes.
“Would you like me to fuck you tonight?” Bishop Manzini asked the teenage boy.
“Yes, Father, if the Cardinal allows it.”
The boy had dark hair and large, flirting eyes. Cardinal Barcola barked out a rough laugh.
“The Cardinal approves. Bishop Manzini is a mean fucker with a very thick cock, and he will make you squirm. You’ll be walking with wobbly legs for the next week I guarantee it. But now down to business. This is rather urgent, I’m afraid, and demands your full attention, Bishop.”
“I sensed the urgency in your call.”
Cardinal Barcola sighed and folded his hands in his lap. He wearily shook his head.
“It’s the Holy Father, I’m afraid. He wants a special entertainment for the Easter celebration. I don’t know where to begin.”
“What’s the problem?”
Bishop Manzini leaned in to seem more interested than he was. His hand lingered on the perfect ass cheek of the young boy standing next to him.
“The problem is that he gets more and more specific—and more and more perverted—in his demands. I have bountiful connections all over the world but still cannot supply his very special needs. Quite frankly, I want you to assist me. I want you to take a more active part in the acquisition of the Vatican’s carnal demands.” The Cardinal looked weary. His eyes became clouded, and the lids a bit heavy. “I just can’t handle it all anymore.”
“What about Francesco. He seems a perfect candidate to assist you.”
“Oh, he does already, but he is so very young. He does not have the connections you, and I do. He doesn’t even know the right questions to ask. None of that matters now. What matters is I have less than two weeks to provide the requested entertainment for the Easter celebration. I need your expertise. I also need you to do the legwork for me. You are strong and healthy and still young.”
“What is the Holy Father request?”
“Well, as you know, his Holy fucker doesn’t respond much anymore. Francesco tried to suck him off last week, and it took over an hour to get anywhere. He does respond to pornography, however. He likes to watch violent acts of sex. Then his Holy dick does indeed still grow stiff and spit sacred jism, but it seems to take something more extreme to get him off each time.”
Bishop Manzini tilted his head and smiled. Pietro, standing next to him, caught his eyes and winked.
“I repeat. What is his request.”
“He wants to watch a fucking. He wants to watch a young priest fuck a boy.”
“The simplest of requests; there must be a catch.”
Cardinal Barcola shifted in his chair.
“Oh, there is. Believe me. Here’re the details of what the Holy Father wants to see. The priest must be very young and handsome, only a year or two out of the seminary, no more. And he must have an enormous dick. The Holy Father said it must be over ten inches in length and the thickness of a beer can. I can’t go around the world measuring the cocks of young priests. How will we ever find the proper candidate? And not only that, but he must be a very rough and cruel fucker. The Holy Father wants to witness a violent rape. He wants the boy whipped with a belt. He wants the boy burned with candle wax. And he wants the over ten-inch dick to go balls deep into both the boy’s mouth and virgin asshole. He also wants the young priest to piss and shit on the boy. We need to find the right priest who will do all of this, and we have two weeks to do it.”
Bishop Manzini frowned.
“What about the boy? Who will he be?”
“Well, the Holy Father wants a Jew or Arab boy of eight or nine years of age. He wants the theme of Christian dominance and the spreading of Christianity in the heathen world to be a theme of the celebration. We have several prospects of boys from various orphanages throughout the Middle East. Of course, the child must be beautiful as well as totally innocent. I don’t think the boy will be a problem. We will take naked photos of the candidates and submit them to the Holy Father for approval. Then he will personally check out the ass of the boy he finally selects.
“I dare say, the ass of the boy is not as important as the personality and attitude of the boy. The Pope will want a delicate and sensitive boy who is filled with fear. He really gets off on fear in young boys. He’ll spend the night before the celebration with the boy, playing with the child’s tits, dick, and ass, but not penetrating him in any way, not that he could anymore. He’ll simply molest and disturb the child with stories of what is going to happen to him. He’ll also want to meet the young priest we select. He’ll want to masturbate the priest to full erection to test the strength and power of his prick. He must approve. If he does not, we’re fucked! So we have to make sure the young priest we pick is perfect. He must have big, full balls as well as a horse cock. The Holy Father loves large scrotums on young men. So tell me, where and how do we begin?”
Bishop Manzini chewed his lip for a moment.
“I don’t suppose one of the Swiss Guards would do. Many of them are hung like horses, and they are often quite handsome.”
“No, it has to be a priest, a recently ordained priest.”
“Well, I guess the first thing to do would be to contact the heads of various seminaries around the world and ask for photos of recently ordained priests who are well hung. Chances are most of the priests teaching in the seminaries have fucked the students, so it should not be difficult to get a list at least of which young men have the largest dicks. And a cock of over ten inches on a young man of eighteen or nineteen would certainly be remembered. We need to start there and then hunt down the priests who qualify and then interview them to make sure they have the ‘proper attitude’ about boy fucking. Difficult to believe, but some priests take their celibacy seriously.”
“Poles and Russians often have large dicks. Perhaps we should start with Eastern European seminaries. Oh, not only must the dick be huge, but it must also be perfectly shaped. The Holy Father may want to suck on it. He even gets testy if one of the balls hangs lower than the other ball. He gets harder and harder to please every day. Last week he was watching two young Italian boys fuck each other, and he suddenly called a halt to the whole thing and threw the boys out. When I asked him what was wrong, he said the fifteen-year-old wasn’t fucking the thirteen-year-old hard enough, that his dick was not going in balls deep on every thrust. These were boys who had never fucked before. They didn’t even know how to fuck. He had requested total virgins with no sexual experience, and then he carps because one is not deep enough in the other’s rectum. What am I to do?”
Bishop Manzini gave a tight-lipped sympathetic smile to his older friend. They had been through so much together.
“Your job, my dear friend, you do your job. You serve the Holy Father in every way you can. He is God’s agent here on earth, and his every whim must be attended to with care. I will get on the phone tonight to begin the search for our horse-hung priest with the perfect prick. Might I ask that young Pietro here attend to me while I work late into the night?”
“Yes, yes, of course, but I make you a deal. Until you have found me at least four candidates, no anal penetration. He may suck you, but you may not fuck his ass until you have achieved a measure of success. How’s that for a deal, my friend?”
“You always drive a hard bargain. Done.”
He slapped Pietro on the naked ass globes, and the boy giggled.
“But I warn you, you’re missing out on some great pussy if you don’t sample little Angelo’s ass while you are here. You cannot believe an asshole that tiny can stretch so much.”
“Thank you, my friend, but he is a bit young for my taste. I have an idea, though. Your son Francesco seemed a bit down just now. Why not let him sample Angelo’s boy-cunt?”
“Ha, you know my son. He prefers Daddy Dick. He likes older men with huge fuckers to really work him over. Baby pussy is not for him.”
“Exactly why I suggested it. Perhaps a change of pace for him. There’s a chance that if he fucked little boy pussy, it might open new doors for him. He’s a wonderful bottom, but he might also prove an outstanding top with the right boy ass. Why not send Angelo to him and have the little shit beg Francesco to fuck his baby ass? He could beg him to fuck him really hard until he hurts and bleeds. That might just get Francesco’s interest. It couldn’t hurt to try.”
Cardinal Barcola slapped his thighs.
“You’re right. He works too hard and is an excellent son in every way and an exceptional cocksucker. He sucked me so well last week that I thought he would turn my dick inside out. And he has enjoyed assisting me in giving the choirboys enemas, so there might be some latent interest there. I’ll do it.”
“Oh, and one more thing, might I have a look at your choirboys while I am here?”
“You can have more than a look, but only after you complete your task. I’ll take you to the choirboys’ dorm. They sleep naked two to a cot. There are special rehearsals where they sing bare-ass naked with their dicks hard and dripping. They are my personal Vatican treasure.”
Bishop Manzini stood. He took young Pietro by the back of the head and pressed the boy’s face into his crotch. He could feel the child’s mouth working to find his dick through the cloth of the cassock.
“Well, to work then. I must confess that I may have to take out my frustrations on young Pietro here while looking for our big dicked priest. I may have to take a belt to his ass or even to his newly dropped scrotum.”
Cardinal Barcola raised a ringed hand.
“Whatever it takes, I want good news by morning. Oh, and let’s fly any potential candidates out here. We might be able to have our own fun with those big dicked young priests.”
Bishop Manzini pulled his spent dick out of Pietro’s young just fucked asshole with a “pop,” and the boy groaned with the suddenly cavernous feeling in his boy-cunt. A string of cum connected the still pulsing tip of Manzini’s thick prick to the swollen raw asshole of the child, and then, with a little burp-like sound, cum bubbled up and out of the asshole. No sooner did Manzini move away than Francesco, the handsome young priest who had come to help Manzini with the project on which he was working, stepped in. Francesco had nine inches of wrist-thick dick, and he slammed it into the little boy’s just fucked ass with all his considerable might. Little Pietro squealed in pain, and a “whoosh” of air escaped his sweet little mouth as a new dick buried itself balls deep in his recently fucked cum hole. His small smooth, slender body trembled as the muscular young priest ram fucked him as hard as he could. This was the second time tonight that each of the priests had fucked him. Bishop Manzini meantime had crawled with his big balls swinging up to Pietro’s angelic face.
“Clean this, bitch!” he said.
Just as the little boy opened his mouth, he forced his cum and ass slime coated dick into it. Cum and ass juice squirted out around the boy’s stretched lips. Even though it was going flaccid, the Bishop’s dick was more than the boy’s small mouth could handle. Still, he did the best he could when he wasn’t almost senseless form the huge dick plowing his rectum. Bishop Manzini then rolled over and lit a cigarette. He lay back on the silk covered pillows and picked up the stack of internet printouts he had received in response to his long evening of writing to seminaries around the world.
It didn’t take Francesco long to cum. He was young and animal-like in his fucking. Soon he had the boy groaning in pain as he arched up and shot his load deep into the young teenage bowels before he rolled off and the kid set about cleaning the spent dick with his mouth. Father Francesco dumped the oranges out of a glass bowl on a bedside table and set the bowl on the bed. He grabbed little Pietro by the shoulder.
“Pietro, squat over the bowl and shit out those loads of cum up your ass.”
The boy looked scared and confused.
“Come on, hurry up so you can get cleaned up and go off to school. This is a little something that Bishop Manzini taught me when I was just about your age.”
Father Francesco smiled at Bishop Manzini who returned the warm look, letting his mind drift for a second back to when Francesco was just a child and the Bishop, only a priest, and he had fucked Francesco endlessly.
The fucked little boy struggled up and squatted over the bowl He was just at that age when his feet were slightly too large for the rest of him, and he looked darling that way, bare-ass naked, squatting as if to take a shit, over a glass bowl. Francesco reached out and stroked the boy’s smooth cheek.
“Now just relax and shit out all the cum up your pussy into the bowl.”
The boy who had only just reached puberty squinted and twisted up his face. He grunted, and a loud fart roared from his boy ass. The two clergymen laughed. Then the cum up the kid’s ass began to pour out into the bowl. It was mixed with ass juices and what not and was an ugly slimy half-brown, half-dirty, yellow-white in color. Bishop Manzini went back to the printouts in his hand, but Francesco remained fascinated by the shitting boy.
“That’s right, sweet bambino Pietro, shit out all the man-cum in your boy-cunt.”
At last, the boy had finished. He looked down at the disgusting mess in the bowl. He was amazed at how much cum the two priests had deposited in his bowels. Father Francesco smiled and picked up the bowl.
“Okay, now, my little friend. Just drink this down.”
The child could not believe his ears. The priest wanted him to drink down the cum and ass slime mixture. His stomach turned at the very thought. Still, he had been taught never to disobey a priest. He was a very special boy selected for service in the Vatican, and he must respect that responsibility.
“Come on. You don’t want me to report you to Cardinal Barcola, do you?”
With trembling hand, the boy tilted the glass bowl and began to swallow the horrible concoction from his ass. He made a sick face and then gagged as he almost vomited. Francesco chuckled, and his blue eyes twinkled.
“Be a good boy. All the way down. When Bishop Manzini taught me to do this, he had a rule. If I puked, I had to lick that up too.” The young priest looked fondly at his mentor. “Remember, Bishop, you used to call this Communion of the Ass!”
The boy managed to swallow the disgusting mixture, and then he was told to lick the bowl clean. After that, with a pat on his poor fucked ass, he was sent off to shower and also wash out the bowl. Francesco crawled over and rested his head in Manzini’s hairy armpit. He took the cigarette out of his hand and took a puff.
“So what do we do now? My father is going to be fucking angry that you fucked Pietro before you achieved results on the project. He gave strict instructions, no ass fucking until you have results.”
Manzini smiled and kissed Francesco on the cheek.
“Your father and I go back a long way. Back to the days, when you were a little boy and we would double fuck you at the same time. I understand him. He is a Cardinal now, and very powerful, but still the same man. He knows I need to relieve my prick in order to think clearly. Besides, we have positive results in a way. We have made progress. It’s just very confusing. I’m not sure how to proceed.”
“Let’s go over the information we have and make a list of what we need to do,” Francesco said, licking Manzini’s nipple.
“Orders are for us to find a young newly ordained priest with a dick of over ten inches and beer can thick to fuck a little boy for the Holy Father’s Easter celebration party. That in itself is an impossible task. With the moralistic climate surrounding the church today, we can’t just send out word that the Pope wants a priest with a huge dick. We must be surreptitious. We need to contact our friends and find out which seminaries have the most outrageous records of seminary students fucking each other and being involved in sexual perversions. Then we can approach the heads of these seminaries and ask if any recent graduates have enormous cocks. This we have done, but it gets more difficult. For this boy-raping project, we need to provide not only a young priest with a big dick, but he also has to be a violent fucker. He is to fuck the boy without mercy and with extreme ruthlessness. That is central to the entertainment, and then he also to be very handsome. Isn’t a big dick enough? No! He has to be a fucking movie star.”
“We’re in the service of the Holy Father, after all. He must get what he wants, and it must be perfect.”
“If only I had been put in charge of finding the little boy, orphans like that are a dime a dozen or pardon me, a hundred thousand lira a dozen. I could find a beautiful little Jew or Arab boy to be fucked for the occasion in no time flat, but no, I have to be given the impossible job of finding a handsome young priest with a dick of death!”
“Well, what have we got so far?”
“Father Gabriel Stahler an old drunk of a pervert who runs the Mount Saint Paul Seminary sent me some leads. He said he had two boys who recently graduated and were ordained who were insatiable fuckers. Although neither of the boys was ever actually measured, they both have enormous pricks. What interests me in them is that they used to coach grade school basketball, and apparently, they were constantly getting in trouble for ripping open the asses of little boys on their teams. The church had to hush up no less than four incidents, and these were while these boys were still seminary students. Both boys have extreme sadistic streaks, which is just what we want for our project. Father Gabriel sent this photo taken of them in the dorm last year. The father has cameras in all the student rooms and showers, so the teachers and priests can enjoy watching the boys. Father Gabriel said he used to blow the boys and the one with the bigger dick was a real throat fucker. That’s a quote. Look at the photo.”
The picture showed two seminary students on a bed masturbating each other. Their dicks were clearly visible. Francesco licked his lips and fingered his flaccid penis while Manzini continued on.
“Well, the boy on the left is not a big deal. His dick is no more than eight inches. He is useless to us. However, the boy on the right has real potential. That fucker must be ten inches.”
“Yes, but the boy is very thin and only moderately attractive. Is he handsome enough? And if we can find him, is he still into fucking boys, or has he become one of those born again celibate priests so popular today. This new morality will destroy the church, mark my word.”
Just then, the bedside phone rang. Bishop Manzini picked it up while Father Francesco turned to young Pietro who was walking stiffly out of the bathroom naked. The poor boy had trouble walking because of his raped ass. Francesco hopped out of bed, his big dick and balls flopping as bounded over to the boy. He scooped the boy up in his arms and began to kiss the soft pale skin.
“You sweet fucking little angel you, you’re such a good fuck. No wonder my father has been keeping you for his personal attendant.” His tongue kissed the boy deeply, swapping spit with the little boy. “How delicious you taste. I want you to let me fuck you again real soon, okay?”
“Yes, Father, “said the boy, his lower lips a bit swollen from all the cocksucking he had done.
“You’d like me to fuck you again, wouldn’t you?”
Were those tears in the child’s eyes?
“Well, tell me, tell me you really want me to fuck your ass.”
“I really want you to fuck my ass, Father.”
“Of course you do, baby, of course, you do. Okay, off you go!”
The boy spent a few minutes climbing into his clothes and then, still in great pain, went out the door. A cute naked teen of about fourteen stuck his head into the bedroom suite. He smiled cheerfully. Apparently here in the bowels of the Vatican, numerous teenage boys and younger were kept naked most of the time. The whole thing had a Renaissance feel about it.
“Breakfast is ready, Fathers.”
“How is your dick today, Ramon?” Francesco asked.
“Sore, Father, I was fucking some of the very young ones last night, and they’re so tight.”
“It’s good practice for you and for them. If you want to become a good priest someday, you need to learn everything you can now. Whatever you’re making out there smells good.”
“Come eat it before it gets cold.”
“As soon as the Bishop gets off the phone.”
Bishop Manzini was having a difficult time with Cardinal Barcola.
“Yes, I fucked the boy. So did you son. I had to unload my balls. Besides, I’ve made progress, and nothing more could be done until morning. Now please calm down. Tell me, will his Holiness accept a dick of nine inches? If so, why not just use your son Francesco here. He is a mean a fucker as I have ever seen and likes to inflict pain on boys. I know the Pope said a dick of over ten inches! Jesus Christ, what difference does an inch make? I’ve got a list of some young priests to follow up on and some photos too. I’ll send them on to you. I know the priest has to be handsome. What about foreskin? Does his Holiness like a nice thick dangling foreskin or a tight thin one? I am not sarcastic. You told me the dick has to be perfect as well. I’m only trying to please. I still think your son would be fine. Tell the Holy Father, it’s ten inches. I’m not suggesting you lie to the Pope. Very well, we’ll get on it. Are you serious?”
“What is it?” Father Francesco asked when Bishop Manzini had put down the phone.
“He’s gone crazy. I know he’s your father, but he’s gone crazy. He wants us to take the private Vatican jet and check out the final list of priests ourselves. He wants us to check their penises and also to watch them fuck to make sure they are rough and can do the job. Do you realize we’re being asked to find a young stud priest who’s into fucking little boys? I can see my career going down the drain. All of this in the service of God!”
“Well, think of it as a partial holiday. And besides, my dear Manzini, we may get to play a bit with some of these young priests.”
The two clergymen walked naked, dicks and balls swinging into the next room where the beautiful fourteen-year-old bare-assed teen was just placing the hot breakfast on the table.
“This is Ramon. He makes some of our meals,” Father Francesco said.
“And does he always serve them with his teenage dick swinging?”
“The Cardinal prefers it this way, Father, so I thought you might as well,” The cute boy responded.
“Well, you are a pretty thing. Too bad I am all fucked out. Jesus, we forgot all about morning prayers.”
“We’ll just pray twice as long at dusk. Let’s look at some of the other candidates while we eat.”
Father Francesco reached up and squeezed Ramon’s teenage nuts. Bishop Manzini slid some of the documents over to the younger priest.
“This one looks of interest. He is in Ukraine, and his name is Father Ivan Markovich. He runs a kind of halfway house for teens with drug and prostitution problems. Look at the dick on him.”
“Yes, but it’s flaccid. You can’t tell much from a flaccid dick. His seminary says he drinks excessively and is easy to argue and even brawl. He beat up other students and often raped their asses just out of meanness if they crossed him. Apparently, he would also force the younger boys to give him blowjobs. He enjoyed forcing sex upon a boy rather than mutual pleasure. Sounds good to me, I say we start with him. He’s good looking.”
“He does not look very young. What is he, about thirty? The Cardinal said the Pope specified young. Still, if he is as mean a motherfucker as he appears to be, he might be our boy. Does he enjoy eight-year-old Jew or Arab ass? That must still be determined.”
“Well, what say, we fuel the jet and head for Odessa?
Fourteen-year-old Roman was standing behind Bishop Manzini and moving his hips so that his teenage dick brushed the naked priest’s shoulder.
“Would you like some cream, Father?” the flirting boy asked.
Bishop Manzini smiled.
“You’re a fucking slut, aren’t you?”
The boy nodded.
“Cardinal Barcola wouldn’t have it any other way. He often has me jerk off into his coffee.
The bishop reached across the table for the dish of scrambled eggs. He removed the large silver serving spoon from the dish. It was rather like a ladle.
“Here, my boy, shove this up your pussy for us!”
The fourteen-year-old blinked and looked shocked for a moment, but then with the immediate confidence of a boy who knows he could easily lose his privileged job, he took the large silver serving spoon, turned around, lifted one leg for a better view, and forced the spoon up his tight moist young asshole.
“Come on, Ramon, show Bishop Manzini what a good boy you are. Shove that spoon all the way up your cunt. I don’t want to see any spoon sticking out.”
The teenager made a weak grin.
“I’m afraid I won’t get it out again,” he said feebly.
Bishop Manzini grunted, “You can get one of the other boys to go digging for it. Get that fucking spoon out of sight. Now!”
The boy let out a cry but forced the spoon deep into his teenage bowels.
“Good job, what’s your name? Ramon? Now, fetch us some more coffee, will you?”
The priests had a good laugh watching the serving boy waddle to the serving counter and back, his gut wracked with pain from the large spoon up his rectum.
While Ramon was pouring coffee, Father Francesco lifted one naked foot and shoved a toe into the boy’s ass, forcing the spoon still deeper. Poor Ramon looked as if he were about to pass out. Bishop Manzini raised his coffee spoon and whacked the teen in the scrotum with it.
“Pay attention to your job. You’ll spill the coffee if you are not careful.”
After breakfast, the two priests packed small bags and met at the Vatican garage where a limo was waiting to take them to the airport. Cardinal Barcola was there to see them off.
“Bring me back the right priest. If this celebration party is a success, it could mean advancement for all of us.”
“My dear Cardinal, there’s not much further for you to advance—except to the position of Pope yourself.”
The Cardinal made the sign of the cross and smiled.
“And make sure the priest you select not only has a big dick but can fuck like a bull. In fact, there is so much riding on this that you’d better bring the three best ones back. That way, we have a backup. Besides, it will be fun watching them fuck the shit out of our children’s choir. God bless you and have a safe journey.”
The private Vatican jet landed in Kyiv. The two priests were stopping there briefly to see Father Ignatius an old colleague of Bishop Manzini. The old man was in his nineties and didn’t have much more time here on earth. The elderly priest was ensconced in a small cottage outside of the old city, on the banks of the Dnieper River, a modest abode but in beautiful rustic surroundings. As Bishop Manzini’s car pulled up the long narrow road, the door to the cottage opened, and the ancient priest hobbled out. He rested one hand on the shoulder of an eight-year-old boy for support. The boy had a mop of brown hair and a sweet round rosy face. The child was dressed in very short blue shorts and a tee shirt. The Priest wore a worn old cassock and a large silver cross. His eyes were tiny and pink and his face a mass of wrinkles. A long mustache fell across his old cracked lips and hung below his chin. He used the boy as a prop and shuffled as he walked taking small hesitant steps. He raised his other hand in greeting and it trembled as if from Parkinson’s disease. Manzini embraced the old man gently, fearing he might turn to dust and introduced Father Francesco. The old man’s eyes twinkled as he studied the young priest.
“Oh my, oh my, you are quite a hunk. I can’t’ imagine any altar boy is safe with you around. So you’re the illegitimate son of Cardinal Barcola. Yes, yes, I can see him in your eyes and facial structure. God bless you, my son.”
The little boy was Stephan and from the village. He lived with the old priest to see to his needs. It did cross Father Francesco’s mind that an older boy might be of more use. Little Stephan could hardly do much heavy work, or even lift the old priest if he should say fall or need physical assistance.
“Stephan does everything for me. He bathes me and cooks for me. He is a very talented little boy. He’s an orphan. I hope that when I pass on, someone takes him on to look after him. Could you see to that, Manzini?”
Bishop Manzini reached out one hand and ruffled the little boy’s mop of hair.
“Consider it done.”
They sat in the sun on old wooden chairs and benches. Stephan brought wine, fruit and cheese, and bread. Then he sat next to the old priest on a long tilted green bench with a solid back. The chatted and laughed for over an hour about the old days in Rome.
“Remember when Father Portico, that scoundrel, wanted to play a nasty trick on the head of the seminary, Father Toulon, and so instead of wine, he pissed in the communion cup and the seething priest had to drink it in front of the entire congregation? I miss Father Portico. He passed, when was it in the seventies? Oh, and remember when we were students, and all got drunk and broke into the convent and fucked that one hot young nun, what was her name?”
“No! Bishop Manzini, you fucked a nun?” Father Francesco was incredulous. “I thought you were strictly a boy-ass fucker.”
“Back in those days, I fucked anything that moved. And, although you would know nothing about this, my young friend, females have asses too.”
The old priest, Father Ignatius, sipped wine from a cup held by the little eight-year-old boy. He studied Father Francesco.
“I’m an old man, a dying man. I have been, I think, a good priest. I’ve been close to God and the Virgin all my life. I’ve helped many people. Old men like me have few wishes left, few desires. May I ask you, Father Francesco, are you well hung?”
Father Francesco blushed. The old man was so direct. His little pink eyes burrowed into him.
“I guess so. I have had no complaints.”
The young priest tried to laugh it off, but Father Ignatius was persistent.
“Will you show me? Will you take out your dick and show me? Some of the farm boys around here have very lovely dicks, but I’ve seen them all and handled them all. A nice big fresh cock is always so pleasing.”
“Well, I’d…I don’t feel comfortable.”
“Ha! If it’s young Stephan here, you mustn’t feel shy. There is nothing he has not seen and handled as well.”
The old man patted the little boy on one bare leg.
“Still, outside here in the bright sun and all, I feel…well, I feel foolish,” Francesco replied.
“Nonsense, Francesco, show Father Ignatius your fucker.”
Bishop Manzini made it clear there was no room for refusal.
Father Francesco stood up and faced the ancient priest and the eight-year-old boy. Francesco was wearing black pants and a black shirt with a clerical collar and a black sports coat. He opened the zipper in his trousers.
“No, no, boy, drop your trousers so I can see your dick and sack properly. You can’t say anything about a man’s prick when it is sticking out of his fly.”
Father Francesco dropped his trousers. He never wore underwear because it made it easier for a quick fuck, and it was more pleasant when he held little children on his lap. His big fat dick hung there over his egg-sized nuts in the sunlight. He did not know where to look as the old priest studied his prick.
“Beautiful. Beautiful. So nice and fat. I’ll bet that can rip a young asshole open. And such a beautiful foreskin. And the scrotum is a low hanger. I like that on a man. I like it when the nuts hang down and swing when the young man moves. Move your hips just a little for me, so your ball bag swings.”
Bishop Manzini had to suppress a chuckle as the young priest, red-faced and holding his shirt up to reveal his lower stomach and crotch, moved his hips from side to side, so his scrotum swung. The old priest nodded and smiled. His hand which had been resting on the smooth, bare leg of the eight-year-old boy now moved up under the boy’s shorts to play with his tiny dicklet and nuggets.
“You see, Stephan. If you exercise your little dickie every day as I showed you, then someday you will have a nice big prick like that. Won’t that be wonderful? Think how proud you will be. But you need to swallow my cum every day. The cum of a priest makes a boy’s cock and balls grow large. Isn’t that right, Bishop Manzini?”
The old priest’s fingers were digging and prodding up inside the boy’s shorts. The child had a nervous but polite look on his face.
“Absolutely. A nice big boy his age should drink as much cum as he can every day.”
“Oh, he does. He drinks the spooge of several other priests and, of course mine. And he also sucks some of the farmer boys. I like to watch. Yes, he helps me in every way. Jesus loves little Stephan!”
Father Ignatius’ hand went under the boy, and Bishop Manzini could tell he was working a finger or two up the little tyke’s asshole.
“Please, Father Francesco, may I see it hard?”
Father Ignatius looked up with a pleading look in his watery pink eyes at the young priest standing before him.
Father Francesco shrugged and began to finger his dick. He had to avoid looking at the withered old creature drooling before him and concentrate on the angelic little boy. Soon his fuckmeat was standing out its full nine throbbing inches.
“Beautiful, beautiful, I sometimes think the most beautiful thing our Lord ever made was a good set of cock and balls. I just know Jesus had the most beautiful cock ever. The historical fact is, of course, that all the Apostles were teenage boys. I just know Jesus ass fucked them all, and that was part of his special charm and magic. I mean a well-hung thirty-two-year-old prophet and twelve teenage boy followers, what does that say?”
Bishop Manzini nodded in agreement.
“I myself have always loved depictions of Christ on the cross without the loincloth. I have loved the ones where his full fat dick and balls were fully on display.”
While the two priests discussed the Lord, poor Father Francesco stood there with a now leaking dick. Father Francesco had a cock that leaked at the drop of a hat. His one consolation was the little eight-year-old Stephan never took his eyes off the big hunk of fuck meat.
“Thank you, Father. You have made me very happy. You may put it away now.”
Just like that. What was Father Francesco to do with his big leaking hard on? Bishop Manzini had to try very hard not to crack up with laughter. He put on a stern face.
“You hear the good father? Put that boy-buster away. Don’t be vain!”
“But…It doesn’t go down quite so easily once it is up. Give me just a moment or two,” Father Francesco pleaded.
“Ah, I have an idea. Stephan, go on over and give Father Francesco’s big fat dick a nice kiss. That might make it feel better.”
The old man removed his hand from the boy’s crotch and gently urged him from the green bench. The little guy walked up to Father Francesco. The priest’s thick leaking dick was just the same height as the boy’s face. The child puckered his lips and leaned in.
“Ah, ah, ah, Stephan, what have I taught you?” The old priest admonished the child. “Show some respect. Always smell a dick before you kiss it.”
The little boy leaned in and sniffed Father Francesco’s sweaty dick and balls. He wrinkled up his little button nose. Then he leaned in and kissed the head of the cock. He looked up with reverence at the muscular young priest as if to say, ‘I wish I could serve you instead of this withered old sack of shit.’
“Now, now, are you forgetting your manners, Stephan. When you kiss a magnificent dick like that, you open your mouth, and you kiss it right on the leaking pisshole. Be polite.”
This time when the little boy had finished kissing the fat cock, his pink lips were coated with cock slime.
“That a boy, that’s a good boy, Stephan. For being such a good boy, I’ll let you suck on my ass tonight.”
The image of that sweet little boy sucking on the wrinkled flabby old ass of a ninety-year-old man caused Father Francesco’s dick to wilt just a bit. He sighed. He would soon be able to put it away.
“Do you have a tissue or cloth or something on which I could wipe my dick?” he asked politely of the old priest.
The old man cackled, “Just use Stephan’s face. That’s what it’s for.”
Father Francesco took the little boy’s soft, smooth face in his hands and rubbed his dick all over the child’s nose mouth and cheeks. The little boy stood very still. He had undergone this kind of thing often.
“I’m afraid we’ve some business to discuss with you, Father. We need any information you have about a young Catholic priest in Odessa named Father Markovich.”
Bishop Manzini knew time was of the essence. Father Ignatius shook his head and made a whistling sound.
“He’s a wild one, a drunken mess. Not like most Catholic priests are not drunken messes, but he is nasty as a dog with a bee sting.”
Little Stephan went back to sit next to the old man, and Father Ignatius paused in his speech just long enough to lick the dick drool off the child’s face.
“You produce a delicious sauce, Father Francesco, very good, indeed. I’ll bet your cream is a delight on the palate.”
“About Father Markovich…”
“Oh, yes. As I said, he’s wild. I don’t really know him. I have only met him two or three times. A handsome devil with a monster horse cock from what I hear. I tried to get him into bed, but he’s only interested in fucking young studs from what I hear. I also hear he is deeply into pain—giving it not getting it, whips and chains, that sort of thing. He was in Kyiv for a special ceremony held at Saint Sophia’s, and I heard that he got drunk after, picked up a young actor from the Kyiv Theatre and fucked the boy so hard he hospitalized him. He went to the hospital and prayed with the boy, then asked to be left alone with him, and raped the kid’s throat, damaging his whatever! Now the young man has a ripped ass and damaged bowel and a fucked up throat. The young man also had burn marks on his nipples and scrotum.” The old man shook his head. “I don’t believe in destroying beauty. I believe in celebrating beauty.”
The od priest leaned down, extended a purple tongue, and licked the little boy’s face once again.
“I have read that he runs some kind of half-way house or something in Odessa.”
“Yes, On Pushkinskaya Street. It’s a shelter for teens with drug problems and hustlers. He only takes boys from thirteen to twenty. He apparently does wonders with them. Gets them cleaned up and out, but I’m not sure since rumor has it that he has the boys out on the streets selling ass and the profits he gives to the poor. Still, if he helps the poor—which is something—all that fuck money goes to a good cause. They say, however, that he keeps the boys hooked on drugs, so they can’t leave him. They also say that he abuses them in terrible ways. Lots of, what do you call it, S and M sex. I have never been involved in such things. I believe in love, not pain.”
The old man had lifted the little boy’s tee shirt and was now playing with the boy’s baby titties.
“I’m afraid, gentlemen, that it is almost time for our nap. I have to nap several times a day, just to stay alive. Stephan always helps me relax. If you want to come back for dinner, I could round up some nice healthy farm boys to keep us company.”
“No, thank you, Father, we need to press on to Odessa, but thank you for your time. It’s been wonderful to see you again.”
Bishop Manzini kissed the old man on each dusty cheek and made the sign of the cross over him. When Father Francesco kissed the elderly priest’s hand, the ancient cleric whispered to him, “Really nice cock!”
“Thank you, Father.”
Francesco leaned down to kiss little Stephan goodbye. The boy threw his arms around the young masculine priest and kissed him on the lips. He forced his little boy tongue into the man’s mouth. Father Francesco swapped spit with the little guy for a few seconds.
“He likes you. When I die, which should be any day now by the grace of God, why not take him with you to Rome? I’d rest easier knowing he had a home.”
Father Francesco smiled.
“Would you like that? Would you like to come to Rome and live with me?”
The little boy nodded and buried his face in Father Francesco’s crotch. The priest felt his dick getting hard at once. The boy began to mouth the lump through the trouser material.
“Now, now, now, we have to go, but I’ll be in touch.”
As they got into their car, Bishop Manzini laughed.
“Ah, nothing like young love on the wing.”
“Shut up. The boy needs someone. I had you when I was young.”
“Yes, indeed, can a love affair between a twenty-eight-year-old priest and an eight-year-old boy work out? Tune in next week.”
“With all due respect, Bishop, you’re a piece of shit!”
“On to Odessa.”
It took them until late afternoon to get to Odessa, and by the time they found the old mansion on Pushkinskaya Street, which had now been divided up into several offices and apartments, dusk had settled on the strangely orange and pink city. Buildings in which Tchaikovsky, Pushkin, and Eisenstein had worked looked like beautiful crumbling monuments to a bygone time. Giant carved statues supported archways into inner courtyards, and everywhere the buildings themselves were covered with dusty pink, orange, and tan stucco.
Father Francesco rang the bell. Bishop Manzini as befitting his station stood back one step waiting to be presented by the younger priest. It took a few moments, but the sight that greeted them when the door opened was most surprising.
There stood a young man of eighteen or so. A handsome young man, but the odd thing was that he was totally naked. He seemed shy and embarrassed but did nothing to cover his very ample dick and balls.
“YA mogu vam pomoch’?” he asked in Russian.
“Do you speak English, or Italian, or French?”
“Sorry. I…little English.”
The boy smiled. He noticed Father Francesco staring at his thick teenage dick and blushed.
“Yes, well, Father Ivan Markovich? We want to see Father Markovich.”
The boy stepped back and made a gesture of welcome. His teenage dick wobbled when he moved, and his bare feet slapped the tile floor. Both men were curious as to why this boy would answer the door bare-ass naked. Anyone from the mailman to a delivery boy, to visitors like themselves, would discover him totally naked.
“Please…” the teen said, ushering them in.
The inside of the building smelled of incense and the walls were covered with heavy drapes. Pillows and ottomans filled the room instead of conventional furniture. The light came from lamps covered with brightly colored shades. It looked like the den of a gypsy fortuneteller. On one wall hung a huge crucifix on which Jesus was, indeed, totally naked. Father Francesco could not take his eyes off the gigantic genitals on the carved Christ. The suffering figure’s dick hung at least nine inches flaccid. He stopped in his tracks, transfixed by the carving.
“Beautiful, no? I am in love with Jesus,” the naked teenager said.
“We all love Jesus,” Bishop Manzini responded.
But the teenage boy was also silent now along with Father Francesco staring at the wooden figure on the cross. The teen’s hand went down to his thick dick and began to finger it. Then a big deep voice filled the room.
“I keep the boy answering the door naked to teach him humility. He is an arrogant fuck and constantly needs to be brought down to earth, but he loves Christ, and that is something.”
Everyone in the room turned to see Father Ivan Markovich, standing with only a towel around his otherwise naked body and a bottle of vodka in one hand.
“Fathers! What can I do for you, or to you?
While Manzini and Francesco were getting acquainted with Father Ivan Markovich’s Home for Wayward Boys in Odessa, Young muscular Karl Lundquist sat curled up to hide his nudity in Cardinal Barcola’s lavish and ornate bedroom. He did not doubt there were cameras even here in the high-ranking Vatican priest’s innermost sanctum. The Cardinal had cameras everywhere. Lundquist hated being naked, and he hated having to wait for the lecherous old man. Karl was a young man with career aspirations and being a member of the elite Swiss Guard at the Vatican was merely a step toward his goal, but he never expected the place to be such a hot bed of perversion. It had shaken his very religious foundations. Also, Lundquist had a girlfriend. He had a girlfriend he had not fucked in four months. He looked down at his crotch with disgust.
Meanwhile, Cardinal Barcola was masturbating in his office. He sat at a gilt desk with a marble top and studied the images on the bank of television screens before him. He was currently studying the scene in the Swiss Guard shower room. He liked to watch the shift changes as both the outgoing and incoming guards were ordered to shower. Cleanliness, after all, is next to Godliness. And many of the Vatican priests liked to watch the bare-assed young soldiers cavort in the shower room. The guards had strict orders to clean themselves thoroughly, and they knew why. Many of them would be ordered to report to the chambers of various Cardinals to be ass fucked or to have their dicks sucked. The Cardinal grinned and yanked harder on his old dick as he watched several naked young soldiers stick hoses up each other’s asses. Cleaning out their bowels was a central part of the showering process. After all, no priest wants to fuck a dirty asshole. Well, not any priest; there were some with rather exotic tastes.
The Cardinal watched the soldiers rub lather each other’s naked bodies with soap. They had been taught and ordered to administer to each other. Many of them sported achingly hard erections. Their big swollen dicks thudded against each other’s bodies in the confines of the shower room. They made crude jokes to each other and slapped each other’s asses or grabbed each other’s balls.
Seeing the big straining dicks on the young guardsmen caused Barcola to glance at the gold clock on his desk. It had been given to him by a world leader of some renown.
“Fuck!” he muttered as he rose from his chair and slipped on a simple cassock and headed toward the bedroom to meet Karl Lundquist.
“Ah, Karl, and how are we doing tonight?”
Karl stood and turned to face the priest. Karl was a well-built young man of twenty-four. His body almost glistened in the dim light of the bedchamber. From somewhere, the scent of incense wafted into the room. Cardinal Barcola stood smiling at the naked young man.
“Good evening, Father. It really hurts, sir. I don’t know how much longer I can stand it.”
“Those were the words of our Lord, Karl, but look what he withstood. You are a stronger young man than you know. Have faith in God and faith in me. Shall I unlock it for a bit?”
The priest was referring to the plastic and metal chastity device attached to young Karl’s genitals. The guardsman’s large penis and balls were encased in a contraption designed to prevent any kind of erection or ejaculation.
“How long have we been wearing this now?” the priest asked, calmly taking a key from a chain around his neck.
“Four months, sir.”
“Four months and you have not cum. You see what discipline and control can do. Before I took you in hand, you were fucking that cunt girlfriend of yours three times a day. The church frowns on fucking out of wedlock.”
Cardinal Barcola turned the key, and the young soldier’s huge dick tumbled from the chastity device. So great was his need, that Karl’s thick penis immediately started to erect. The Cardinal watched with delight as the cock became larger and larger, finally standing out a good eight and a half inches and dripping. And the soldier had not even touched the tool. The balls looked swollen and full of seed.
“Oh my, yes, that is coming along nicely.”
“Please, Father, I need to cum so badly.”
The priest walked over to his dressing table. He returned a moment later with a small blue pill.
“Here, Karl, take your Viagra.”
Karl jumped in sexual agony from one strong young foot to the other.
“Please, sir, let me cum. I need to cum so badly. My balls hurt, and my cock itches and stings.”
Karl knew better than to touch his aching prick.
“Take your Viagra. Think how proud we’ll be in a few more months.”
“I can’t stand it, sir! I’ll go mad. Or my dick will just cum by itself. It feels like it all the time.”
“And would you like to be back in the ranks of losers? Would you like to be a young man with no future and no career? If you dare to cum, Karl, I will have you kicked out of the Vatican and see to it that no one will ever hire you again. You will be forced to clean toilets for a living. I swear to God! Don’t you dare even think of cumming without my permission.”
“I can’t help it, Father. I’m trying. I’m in agony all day and night. I try to think about other things.”
Tears rolled down the handsome soldier’s cheeks. His huge dick bobbed and leaked.
“Try praying. Pray to God or the Virgin Mary to help you control your dirty nasty dick. Stop thinking about your fucking cunt of a girlfriend; think about your service to God.”
As he spoke, the Cardinal slowly pumped the soldier’s fuckmeat. It grew red and even thicker. Long strings of pre-fuck hung from the swollen pisshole. The old Cardinal cupped the soldier’s swollen scrotum.
“Look at these balls. They are so full of seed we shall have to have a larger chastity device made for you. Yes, that fucker really wants to shoot. Those balls really want to unload. You please Jesus, Karl. He is looking down at you and smiling.”
He pumped the young dick until the soldier was sobbing with the need to cum. His tongue hung from his mouth like an idiot, and tears dripped from his chin.
“Please, Father. Please, in the name of Christ, let me cum.”
From nowhere, the old Cardinal produced a wooden ruler.
“The nuns at Catholic grade schools became very good at this.” The Cardinal said, as he whacked the swollen leaking dick as hard as he could.
The snap of wood against dick flesh filled the room. The soldier fell to his knees, but the surprise worked. The dick shriveled down to a wrinkled flaccid six inches.
“Stand up, stand up. You are a member of the elite Swiss Guards. Don’t be a fucking baby.”
The soldier struggled to his feet. The priest ordered him to spread his legs. Then he tapped the wooden ruler on the thick heavy scrotum.
“Sister Monica in my grade school was especially adept at smacking our bare little boy scrotums with a ruler. We would have to stand in a line and drop our trousers. She would walk the line, telling us what sinful little shits we were to play with our dirty fucking dicks all the time, and every once in a while, she would snap the ruler up and whack one of us right on the ball bag!”
As he said this, he brought the ruler up sharply, catching one of Karl’s large nuts. The soldier let out a howl.
“It’s all about discipline, Karl. Life is all about discipline. We can’t go fucking cunt whenever we want. It’s not right. It makes the Holy Virgin cry for us.”
The poor naked soldier bent over at the knees in pain. He cupped his now flaccid dick and aching swollen balls. The priest ordered him to stand up straight and locked the plastic and metal cage around the young man’s genitals.
“There we are. Now, I’ll see you again on Wednesday evening. I’ll have more time to play with you then. Remember to take two Viagra a day. And I know it is possible for a dick to cum when it is not erect, so you need to work with me here. If I find any trace of cum in your dick cage, you’ll be out on your ass. Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Father. But what about dick leak. I can’t control that.”
“Dick leak is not cum, and I can tell the difference. You may leak all you like, but don’t stain your uniform pants. Wait, I’ve something else for you.”
The old man went over to a wardrobe and rummaged around in it looking for what he wanted. He returned with a black rubber butt plug. It was not small.
“Here. Shove this up your ass. I want you to keep it up there at all times, except for when you shit, of course. I want you to wear it until our meeting on Wednesday. It will rub on your prostate and cause conflicting responses in your body. Pray for guidance, my son.”
“I don’t know if I can get that up me, sir. It’s very big.”
“If you’ve been practicing with the rubber toys I gave you, you won’t have any problem. You’re lazy and lax, Karl. I’m disappointed in you. You need to improve. Now shove the fucking rubber butt plug up your fucking asshole!”
The old priest watched with amusement as the muscular young soldier struggled to fit the very thick plug up his ass. The priest noticed what fine full nipples the soldier had on his developed pecs. He would have to start work on those nipples. In his mind, he saw them sticking out over an inch—permanently. For some reason, he thought of the fine pouty nipples on his own illegitimate son, Francesco. He wondered how he and Bishop Manzini were doing in their search for a ten-inch, boy-fucking priest dick.
“Yes, I’m hard on them, but it is for their own good,” Father Ivan Markovich said, as he circled the naked boy who hung by his wrists. The sixteen-year-old boy’s body was covered with strong wooden clothes pegs. The Ukrainian priest carried a thick leather belt and now and again snapped it against the boy’s legs or ass cheeks. Both Bishop Manzini and Father Francesco had aching hard-ons.
“This fucking whore held back some of his drug and ass money from me. I do not tolerate that, do I, Sasha?”
SNAP! The belt bit into the boy’s scrotum, and the kid howled in pain as the clothes pegs on his cock and balls danced.
“I do the Lord’s work, gentlemen. You may not think so, but I assure you it is the Lord’s work. I pick up this street trash when they are fourteen or fifteen and selling their young asses on the Odessa Steps to tourists, and sailors, and businessmen. I put their asses to work for God. I whore them out, and the money they make goes to feed the poor. It’s the same with the drugs. The money from drug sales goes to help the poor. And through drug sales to children, they corral more boys to work for me. So you see one hand feeds the other, but not when shit faced cunts like Sasha here betray me!”
SNAP! The belt bit into the boy’s ass flesh.
“Follow me, my dear friends, and allow me to show you my punishment rooms.”
In the basement of the old mansion was a series of dark corridors with small cells or rooms off to each side. In these rooms sat or stood naked teenage boys. One adorable boy of about eighteen, wearing nothing except a collar, crawled out of a blue concrete and steel room and licked the shoes of Bishop Manzini and Father Francesco. Then he licked Father’s Ivan’s naked but sandaled feet.
“And have you learned your lesson, little scum of the earth? I love this boy. I love this boy like my own brother, but we had a very prominent Odessa businessman, one with connections and lots of money, as a guest, and this fucking asswipe refused to eat the man’s shit. He cost me thousands of Euros just because he was too proud to eat a little shit. So we put him down here to cool off a bit. Are you ready to obey now, Misha?
The boy, on his hands and knees, licked Ivan’s naked legs and then lifted his head to smell the Father’s dangling dick and balls. Father Ivan, like many of his boys, was totally naked. Neither one of the visitors could take their eyes off his huge hunk of fuckmeat which hung a good seven inches flaccid and still had plenty of growth wrinkles. It also had a long thick foreskin. The traveling priests could not believe their luck. Had they struck gold so soon?
Misha inhaled the sweaty scent of the huge fucking dick.
“You know I have a soft spot in my heart for you, Misha. You may lick out my foreskin.”
The teenager held the dangling prick in his hands as if it were a holy relic. Then, he worked his tongue up under the thick foreskin. The boy moaned as he swirled his pink tongue up under the very thick foreskin of the priest’s prick.
“To teach Misha never to refuse a customer if the money is for the Lord, I am putting him on a diet of nothing but shit for two weeks. That should teach him.”
After that, Father Ivan showed the two priests another boy lying on a cot in a room. The boy was fifteen and tied to both ends of the cot. His body was also covered with old wooden clothes pegs. The priest picked up a loose whip and gave the boy ten hard lashes until the kid was screaming bloody murder, but his words were muffled by the gag in his mouth. His young body was crisscrossed with welts.
“This boy gave a customer a less than superlative blow job. His excuse was that he had sucked ten dicks already that day and was tired, but the last customer of the day deserves as good a suck as the first. Is it my fault he has such a popular mouth? I myself enjoy his mouth from time to time. It’s because he is so fucking cute.”
He grabbed the fifteen-year-old by his mop of black hair and pulled. The boy tries to scream through his gag.
“Nobody cares what you are screaming about, fuckhole. Just spend your time talking to God. Apologize for being such a fucking disaster as a cocksucker. Promise him, you will suck better from now on.”
Father Ivan smiled and offered the whip.
“Would either of you care to whip the fucking piece of shit?”
Both priests declined.
After more of the tour including seeing some nice naked young men in cages, Father Ivan took the priests up to a sunny sitting room on the first floor. There they were greeted by three handsome naked young boys in their middle to late teens. The boys smiled at them shyly.
“You see, not everyone here is unhappy and suffering. There is much love here. These are three of my best boys. If you would like to sample their asses or mouths, please be my guests.”
“It would be a great treat, but we have some serious business to discuss with you, Father. We have come all the way from Rome.”
“Ha! Rome. A dusty incestuous shithole populated by priests from a bygone era. They don’t understand the needs of the new church. They’re old farts who enjoy nothing so much as the stink of their own farts. Have you come to discipline me for my work?”
Bishop Manzini looked down.
“Actually, Father, we have come to ask you for the use of your rather hefty penis!” The handsome Russian raised an eyebrow but said nothing. “The Vatican is having a very special Easter celebration this year, and some of the festivities include erotica. The Holy Father has specified certain sexual activities he would like to have transpired. One of them involves a recently ordained priest with a generous endowment of over ten inches fucking a little Jew or Arab boy of eight. He wants the fuck to be brutal and relentless, and from what we have seen of your work with these boys, we feel that you certainly would fill the bill.”
The Russian lit a foul-smelling Turkish cigarette. The three naked teenagers sat on the floor at the feet of the three priests. They played with their dicks and look up at the men respectfully.
“I’ll tell you,” the Russian priest began. “I don’t fuck little children. It’s not my thing. I know the Vatican is famous for child fucking, but I find it rather disgusting.”
“Father, you know that the Catholic religion has always hidden an entire plethora of perversions. It’s part of the nature of our religion. We tell our congregations they must not fuck with condoms, and they must not masturbate, and they must not get divorced, and they must not do this or that. We don’t let our priests marry, but beneath the surface, the religion is a fucking whorehouse of sexual deviation. Back in the Renaissance, Popes had little girls and boys as lovers. Popes had many, many illegitimate children. Popes had secret wives and boyfriends. We know the Catholic Church helped Nazi war criminals escape after the war, and secretly many priests encourage the extinction of the Jews. The church is a mass of hypocrisy. You fuck and torture boys. How can you condemn the sexual desires of another man?”
Father Ivan laughed. He had a strong bass booming voice.
“I don’t condemn them. You Roman clergy can fuck all the little boy mouth and ass you want. You can castrate children for your choirs and use the piss of children for bathing in. I don’t give a shit. I’m simply telling you that I don’t enjoy fucking boys less than twelve years of age. Besides, my dick is too big, it would tear their rectums and split them open.”
“Father, that’s the general idea. That’s what his Holy Father wants to see.”
“Well, he’ll have to find another child fucker. I won’t do it.”
“And what if the Vatican ordered you to do it?”
“I would disobey, just as thousands of priests disobey other Vatican decrees. You people in Rome do realize you are just blowing in the wind over there, don’t you?”
Bishop Manzini hung his head in despair.
“Now, what do we do?”
Meanwhile, Father Francesco, who could not take his eyes off Father Ivan’s massive genitals, answered, “Go on to the next name on the list, I guess.”
Father Ivan leaned forward. He puffed on his cigarette and scratched his huge balls.
“Listen, just across the border in Poland there is a Catholic seminary run by a friend of mine Father Damien. He’s always sending me photos of his boys, and some of them have absolute horse dicks. They fuck like rabbits over there I hear. I have not had time to visit yet but will take a holiday there soon. You might find some big dicked young men there who will fuck your children.”
“Unfortunately, the Holy Father was very precise in his instructions. He wants a newly ordained priest, not a seminary student.”
“Ha! What the fuck is the difference?”
Father Ivan spread his legs wider, and Father Francesco began to drool, staring at the fuck equipment.
“The difference is that each person’s sexual fantasies are very specific. The slightest deviance outside of the particular fantasy and the desire is gone. The devil is in the details. Still, I suppose we could pay the seminary a visit. They might have some priest teachers who have huge cocks. Shall we be going then, Francesco?”
“Just a moment, Bishop, if you will.
“Father Ivan, I have a request. I don’t mean to be rude or impulsive, but I wonder if you might let me suck your dick. I have never sucked a dick that large, and I would truly love to.”
Father Francesco’s blue eyes sparkled, and his full young lips were wet with spittle. Father Ivan studied the muscular priest for a moment, and then he snubbed out his cigarette and smiled.
“I will make a deal with you. You can suck my fuckmeat if you also give me a really deep, thorough ass suck.”
Father Francesco turned his head to look at Bishop Manzini.
“Do we have time, Bishop? Please!”
Bishop Manzini tilted his head.
“I suppose. Suck away my boy, suck away. I guess I might as well relax a bit too. Tell me, Father Ivan, do any of these three handsome young men drink piss?”
Father Ivan roared with laughter.
“Take your pick. They’re all excellent piss drinkers, right boys?”
The three naked teens at their feet opened their mouths and extended their tongues.
For a muscular young soldier like Karl Lundquist to be almost brought to tears was most unseemly. He stood next to his girlfriend’s bed, hands balled up in fists, chest heaving, and his handsome face a mask of agony.
“What can I do?” he shouted at the beautiful eighteen-year-old naked girl in the bed.
“Go to the police! Report them!” Her full young tits quivered when she spoke, and her nipples seemed to dance.
“The Vatican has its own private police force. It’s a country all by itself. I would be laughed at, and any chance for a career would be ruined. You don’t know their power.”
The girl reached out and cupped Karl’s fat ball sack which was encased along with his thick dick in a plastic and metal cock chastity device.
“Then go to the press. The media would love to hear what kind of perversions go on inside the Church! Little boys being raped and members of the Swiss Guard molested and sexually tortured. This has got to stop.”
“Gina, the whole world knows that priests are sexual perverts, but it does nothing to stop them. Lawsuits and pay-offs make sure of that. The only one ruined would be me.”
Young, attractive eighteen-year-old Gina, she of the curly flame-colored hair screamed and clawed at the chastity device.
“I need your cock. I need to suck your big dick and feel it in my cunt! It’s been four months, Karl. Do you expect me to wait for you forever? I need cock.”
Now tears did well up in Karl’s eyes.
“And I need to fuck you. Don’t you think I dream about fucking you day and night? I remember your lips on my dick, and I almost go mad with desire.”
“Do you want to lose me, Karl? There are other handsome men in Rome. Young soldiers, policemen and fashion photographers. They want me. I have been faithful to you, but I cannot hold out much longer. I love you, Karl, but I need sex.”
“Don’t say that, my love. Don’t talk of leaving me. I need you so badly. What can I do to keep you?”
She kicked back the stiff white bed sheet and spread her long luscious legs.
“Suck my cunt, Karl. Prove you love me by sucking on my cunt. Eat out my pussy. Until that horrible thing is removed, and you can fuck me like a man, prove your love to me by eating out my cunt.”
The muscular naked soldier stood there and blinked.
“If I eat your pussy, my dick will get aroused. The inside of this chastity device has tiny pins in it. If my dick gets aroused, the pins will stick into my cock. The pain is horrible.”
“Karl, I’m eighteen years old. My big strong male lover has a butt plug up his asshole and a cage on his dick and balls. My life is shit right now. If you want to keep me, you will have to eat my cunt.”
“You don’t know the agony of my dick erecting in this damned cage.”
“You don’t know the agony of my unfucked cunt. Make a choice. Suck my pussy or go!”
Karl shook his head and crawled onto the bed. His strong legs and muscular ass were most impressive as he lowered his head between his girlfriend’s legs and extended his tongue. He began to lick her cunt.
In the doorway, a naked twelve-year-old boy stood masturbating his small dick. He was Antonio, Gina’s brother. He was young and innocent, but he had a full-sized adult crush on Swiss Guardsman, Karl Lundquist.
In a small bedroom off of his office, not his luxurious master bedroom, but what he liked to call the “Fuck Room,” Cardinal Barcola was getting ready to fuck the asses of two thirteen-year-old boys who lay side by side on the bed. The boys were both virgins and very tense. They gripped each other’s’ hands in fear. Cardinal Barcola walked around them, pumping his wrinkled prick until it stood out proud and strong. He may be old, but he could still muster a most remarkable hard-on, which was especially impressive to two innocent thirteen-year-old boys.
“Look at it! Look at my prick! Do you know where that prick is going? It is going up your assholes, up your little thirteen-year-old assholes. I hope you washed out your assholes properly. I hate a shitty dick, and rest assured, you will lick it clean after it fucks your assholes.”
The two boys looked at each other. One of them had to sniff back tears, and the other squeezed his hand to try to give him courage. They were both beautiful boys. The Cardinal only fucked beautiful boys. To him, ugly boys or fat boys were invisible. Only beauty. He surrounded himself only with beauty.
“What I’m going to do is plunge my huge dick balls-deep into your ass Marco, and then fuck two or three times. Then I will pull out and fuck my cock into you, Guido. After both your small assholes have been stretched and fucked, I will begin to punch fuck you both five strokes in one hole and then five in the other. It will hurt, but the boy who pushes his young ass up to meet my dick and whose hole is the tightest and the best fuck will get a handsome cash allowance for his family. The boy who is the worst fuck will be given to Father Giancarlo. Do you know Father Giancarlo? He is ninety and smells, and he loves to shit in the mouths of little boys. So I suggest that you both try your hardest to give me an excellent fuck. Now, who wants to suck me for lubricant? I will go in using only boy spit on my dick, nothing else. Who wants to wet me down with his pretty pink mouth?”
“Can you talk yet, my friend? That huge dick of Father Ivan’s just about ruined your vocal cords.”
Bishop Manzini sipped a cocktail on the private jet and laughed.
“I couldn’t breathe. I have never felt anything like that cock down my throat. How in God’s name could an eight-year-old boy take that? Do you know what such a dick would do to a little boy?”
“That is exactly why the Holy Father wants to see it. He loves to see boys ruined for life by sex. We all know what a dick like that can do, but tell me, how did Father Ivan’s ass taste?”
Young Father Francesco smiled.
“Like peaches and fine wine. The deeper into his ass my tongue went, the fuller the taste. But you didn’t do too badly with those boys. You had the long dicked one in your ass and the other one fucking your face, and you were pumping the third with your hand.”
“Yes, it was a pleasant diversion, but it wasted precious time. I just sent your father a message asking about another potential boy fucker, a Father Kamumba in Africa. He works with the poor there, and I received a report that he loves to molest the schoolboys sexually. Here’s a photo of him. He has an enormous dick, over eleven and a half inches. Apparently, he sends fucked boys to the local mission hospital on an almost daily basis. No one complains because these people are poor and need the food and clothing the church gives them. What do you think?”
“Jesus Christ, Holy Mother Fucking Mary, I have never seen a dick like that in my whole life. No adult cunt or asshole could take that. How the fuck can the boy’s handle it?”
“Well, I guess the idea is that they can’t handle it, but no one cares. That’s the fun of it for Father Kamumba. One rumor has it that he likes to have one really young boy ride up and down on his dick, while a second licks his balls and a third and fourth suck on his tits.”
“That’s what I call a versatile priest.” Father Francesco croaked, still forced to clear his throat every now and then, due to the irritation of the thick dick he had sucked.
“So I’m waiting for a reply from the Cardinal as to whether we should fly to Africa or not to see Kamumba. He seems a real winning candidate to me.”
The reply came an hour later.
“No niggers. The Holy Father hates niggers. He may have a huge dick, and he looks very good in the photo, but the Holy Father would have a fit we brought a big black nigger priest in to fuck some little Jew or Arab boy. Sorry, but it just won’t work. Continue on to Poland and then check out Germany and France. Here are two new leads from seminaries there.”
“I never suspected the Holy Father was a racist.” Father Francesco said, studying the huge dick in the photo of the black priest.
“Oh, I suspect he is not really a racist, just not turned on by nigger dick. I’ve seen him bless and kiss black children. I’m guessing that black cock simply doesn’t do anything for him. What do you think of this photo of the two seminary students in Poland? They both have huge fuckers. Maybe the Pope would relax his request for a recently ordained priest and allow a well-hung seminary student to do his boy fucking for him.”
Father Francesco looked at the photo of the two seminary students standing on a hillside wearing some kind of American sports tops that are so popular nowadays. They both wore white shorts but had their dicks hanging out, and both boys sported gigantic fuckers. The Polish countryside could be seen in the background.
“I’d love to fuck with either of those boys. Tell me, Bishop, don’t any of the American seminaries have boys with huge fuckers? I like Americans.”
“That’s not the problem. It’s age. The average age of an American seminary student is in the thirties. Young men in America don’t much go to seminaries. Its men in their thirties who realize that they crave boy ass or girl cunt that then go into the clergy. In Europe, they still have pre-seminary schools for boys of twelve and thirteen. Those boys learn how to suck and fuck properly at a good age and then go on to full seminaries. There are very few pre-seminaries left in the States, and all the recent sex scandals have not helped. More and more priests are living moral lives and ruining our fun.”
“Where would you say the greatest number of boy fucking by priests occurs?”
“Oh my, let me see. Well, anywhere there are missionaries in African or Asian undeveloped countries, you will find a high incidence of boy fucking. They are simply too poor to refuse. A father and mother will sit there and watch the priest fuck their son and not complain. In fact, it can be quite a bit of fun to fuck a boy in front of his parents. I don’t know which is greater, the child’s shame or the parents’ guilt. And, of course, you can make a little boy fuck his brother too. That is always fun. Now, in Europe, I would say the greatest incidents of boy fucking happen in Ireland, where children are still routinely raped by priests as a matter of course. If you’re a good Catholic boy of eleven, and you have not been ass fucked by a priest, you are not very attractive, I can tell you that.”
“Well, then, perhaps we should go to Ireland to find our priest?”
“I still feel bad about Father Kamumba. A man works his whole life with the poor and gives everything to the church, and then he is not honored because of the color of his skin. And make no mistake. The young priest who is chosen to fuck the little boy at the celebration will be honored. He will probably get his dick sucked by the Pope himself. And along with that will come a handsome cash reward and probably some nice jewelry. The Pope loves jewelry. If ever you see a young priest wearing a diamond-studded cross, you can bet he has been sucked by the Pope.”
“Well, we’ll be landing in Poland soon. We have been invited to stay at the seminary with the boys. That should prove interesting.”
“Yes, but will it help us find our big-dicked priest?”
The Vatican halls can be very dark and cavernous, especially for a little boy. Twelve-year-old Pietro hugged the walls and tried in vain not to look up at the eyes of the Biblical characters who stared down at him from the many giant canvases hanging there. Great men with wild beards and fierce eyes suffered the torments of the damned with flowing robes almost swallowing them like ocean torrents. Naked children crawled in dark corners of these huge paintings, some had the wings of cherubs, and others carried bowls of fruit. And everywhere in the works of Art was God’s vengeance. God the Father, God the all-knowing and loving was seldom shown except as a furious and malevolent abusive parent figure.
Pietro was a mess. He could barely think straight. His good sense had literally been fucked out of him. He didn’t know who his parents were. He didn’t even know if he was twelve or thirteen. He couldn’t remember a time before the Vatican. His ass hurt continually, and the priests enjoyed that. He was passed around from cardinal to cardinal and had to endure the tortures of the damned. He had cock in his mouth fifteen or twenty times a day. He was often ass fucked eight to ten times a day. He knew in his heart that it would soon kill him. And as for his soul, he was no longer sure he had one.
What he needed to escape the Vatican was some clothing first of all. He could not very well prowl the streets of Rome bare-ass naked. His naked teen feet padded on the cold marble floor as he made his way down endless corridors and hallways. He prayed to the Lord God for a break any kind of break in life without consideration. And he got it.
Young Ronan had had to go down to the Vatican kitchens for some vegetables. So he had dressed in shorts, and an old tee shirt and sandals. He was now returning carrying a basket of zucchini.
Pietro had nothing against Ronan. He hardly knew him. He had been forced to suck him off once for the pleasure of some visiting Bishop, but the two had barely spoken a word. Ronan worked preparing meals, and Pietro served food and drink, but the boys had no leisure time together. They were always too busy sexually servicing the clergy.
Pietro’s hand went to a golden candlestick situated atop an ornate antique cabinet. His small hand closed around the stick and felt the weight of it. He melted deeper into the shadows.
Ronan was singing some snatch of a current popular Italian song. Pietro grunted. He was envious the older boy still found something in life to sing about. If his stretched asshole hurt as badly as Pietro’s did, he would be not singing. As the older boy passed, Pietro stepped out of the darkness and swung the candlestick into the teenager’s head. It was not a fatal blow. It did not even draw blood, but it was enough to send the child crashing to the floor and the basket of zucchini flying.
Pietro quickly stripped the boy and put on his clothing. Then he dragged the unconscious Ronan into a corner. Whether out of curiosity or anger, Pietro paused to spread Ronan’s full young ass cheeks. He wanted to see if the older boy’s asshole had been as abused as his own had been. Yes, the ass lips were puffy from fucking, and the asshole more resembled a cunt than an ass. This was the situation with most boys in the Vatican. Still, Ronan had been able to sing. Pietro frowned. Then without thinking, he picked up one of the zucchini and forced up into the teenage boy’s ass. For some reason, it made the twelve-year-old boy feel somehow empowered.
Now he had to get by the Swiss guards. It was just as hard to get out of the Vatican, as it was to get in. But Pietro knew about some service doors that opened from the inside only. Deliveries were made there, and the merchants were buzzed in. If he could just make it through one of those doors, he might have a chance to escape and to melt into the mass of humanity in Rome. There, with the skill he had learned at the Vatican, he could hustle his mouth and ass to make a living. He’d heard that some tourists paid quite well for the sexual serves of a cute twelve-year-old boy.
Cardinal Barcola knelt naked on a rough woolen rug which irritated his bony old knees. He raised a hand holding a leather cat-o’-nine-tails. He harshly brought the whip down onto his own back.
“Father, forgive me for my sins.”
He had been doing this for some time now, and his back was crisscrossed with red welts and even some open wounds. With his other hand, Cardinal Barcola yanked and pulled at his prick. Just a few more and he’d be randy enough to give little Angelo a ruthless fucking. He’d have the six-year-old lick the blood from his back and the drippings from his dick, and then he would force his old dick up into the boy’s rectum and carry the boy that way around his small private chapel. He would set the pale young body down on the altar and fuck him balls-deep until the child was delirious with pain. He would pinch and tug at the baby boy nipples. Perhaps he would kiss the boy while biting and chewing the little tongue and lips. He would spit on the boy and call him “Spawn of Satan” and “Devil Child.”
And after, he would once again ask the Lord for forgiveness. After all, the only truly perfect human being ever was Jesus.
Bishop Manzini and Father Francesco were greeted warmly at the Polish Seminary situated in the beautiful countryside outside of Warsaw. The area was poor, and run down, but had a stunning rustic charm to it. On their way to the Catholic school, Manzini and Francesco saw muscular young Polish farmers sans shirts working in the fields. Their sculpted torsos and hale and hearty looks turned on both clergymen. That fresh-faced, rustic masculinity continued at the seminary itself. These were not frail, faggoty, bookish, young men, but well-muscled boys who spent as much time working and playing outdoors as they did praying in the chapel.
As Manzini’s car pulled up outside the seminary, two things struck them. First of all, the ancient village quality of the compound with the buildings more like cabins or farmhouses, and even the main school and chapel were made out of timber. The second thing the priests noticed was a group of five young teen boys just coming out of what looked to be a dry sauna. When the boys saw the car approaching, they quickly wrapped towels around their naked torsos, much to the dismay of the two priests, who had been enjoying the sight of so much swinging teenage dick.
Francesco stepped out of the car first and heard laughter and some sounds of admiration coming from the curious teens. He was also overwhelmed by the wonderful rich smell of country air. He grabbed his and Father Manzini’s overnight bags and walked toward the group of boys who were nudging and elbowing each other. Manzini was close behind him.
“Hello. God bless you! Is this the seminary?”
The boys answered back in Polish, which neither father understood. The boys smiled and laughed, and one of them even winked at Francesco.
“They think you’re quite the stud, Francesco,” Manzini quipped.
“But we can’t understand a word they are saying.”
“You don’t need to talk to them to fuck their asses.” Then Manzini cleared his throat, and everyone present at once recognized a person of authority. “Father Wazinski?” he asked.
The boys chatted merrily among themselves, and then they pushed one boy forward toward the priests. He actually pulled his towel lower on his hips, revealing the top of his pubic bush.
“Hi, I am Stanislav. I speak little English. You are very welcome. Will you stay with us tonight?”
Manzini smiled at the beautiful boy speaking to him.
“Your seminary is lovely. Yes, we’ll be staying the night.”
Stanislav translated for his friends, and the boys laughed and punched each other like horny teens at their first visit to a strip club.
“Father Wazinski, please.”
Stanislav was a shameful tease as it turns out. He turned his back on the priests and reaching down opened his towel wide, so his dick was revealed to his friends, but not to the visitors. Then he lowered the towel just enough to reveal the upper curve and crack of his young ass. He then looked over one shoulder. “We love Jesus!” he said with a cute wink. All of this was done in a very athletic and masculine way. There was no trace of homosexual femininity in his actions.
“Yes, so do we. Now, can you please point us toward Father Wazinski? He’s expecting us.”
“You would like perhaps sauna with us, yes?” Stanislav asked at the prodding of his buddies.
“Yes, perhaps later, after we get settled and meet with Father Wazinski.”
“For fuck’s sake, Manzini, let’s do it now,” Father Francesco said, trying to adjust his raging hard-on through his black trousers.
“God’s work before our dicks, Francesco.
“Young man, if you could stop teasing us with your beautiful ass for just a moment, can you point us toward Father Wazinski?”
The boy frowned for a moment, then smiled again and pointed across the yard.
“He is sitting in white van over there.”
He pointed to a van which had no wheels and was resting on large wooden blocks outside one of the buildings. It was Manzini’s turn to frown.
“He’s sitting in the van, the one up on blocks?”
Just then from a through a broken window, a voice shouted, “This way. Over here!” A red-jacketed arm beckoned them.
One boy with a towel slung loosely over his hips offered to take the priests’ bags. As he leaned in to grab them from Francesco, his towel conveniently slid from his waist, revealing a seven-inch fresh pink teenage dick bobbing and weaving. The other boys hooted with laughter. Father Francesco looked down at the healthy cock, then up at the boy and smiled.
“Pavel!” the boy said.
“Hello, Pavel!” the priest answered.
Pavel smiled a huge smile and then leaned in and swung his hips so that his erect cock slapped Francesco on the leg. Manzini was already on his way toward the white van, so Francesco nodded to the flirting boy and then quickly followed his mentor. As the two priests approached the van, the door slid open, and the visitors got another shock. The priest inside the van was dressed in a red pullover and a baseball cap, but the open door revealed that below the waist, he was totally naked. He sat with his leg spread, one resting up on the car seat, exposing his thick Polish dick hanging there in plain sight.
“God be with you, Fathers. Welcome. I sometimes like to sit here in the van and watch the boys at play. They sauna and then come outside to kick a ball, or wrestle, or just hang about as boys that age do. You know we sometimes forget that even if they are in training to do God’s work, they’re still teenage boys with the needs of teenage boys.”
The stocky priest, who was in his fifties, turned his body slightly so his guests could clearly see his fat dick and balls.
“Welcome to our seminary. I’m afraid I’m not very strict with the boys here. I run a casual house, but the boys seem even more dedicated to the Lord’s work because of it. I think of this place as Eden before the fall.” He stepped out of the van, his fucker swinging, then reached in and pulled out a pair of sweat pants and some sandals, which he casually donned. “I hope you don’t mind sleeping with the boys tonight since there’s more room in the student dorms. I often sleep there myself along with several other teachers. It keeps us close to the boys.”
He waved a hand and with a lumbering walk led the priests up a hill toward the large school building.
“You know our business, Father Wazinski?”
“Yes, searching out cock for the Vatican. Over ten inches, you said. Not so very certain I can help you. I’ve got a few boys here over ten, but no priests. Are you sure the Holy Father wouldn’t accept a ten incher on an eager seminary student?”
“That is a question we’ve asked more than once. Not for what he has in mind. He wants a newly ordained priest to fuck the shit out of a little boy of eight. He wants a brutal, nasty fuck.”
The Father in the red pullover stopped and slowly turned to face his guests.
“Yes, well, there’s not much that’s violent here at our school. I’m afraid we’re all gentle fuckers here. We spread God’s love with our dicks. I have nothing against those who enjoy a good rough fuck, mind you. If the Pope enjoys watching little tykes get ass ripped by a big brutal fucking, that’s his choice. Perhaps it’s the environment here or the rocky history of our past, but we’re quite serene now. I’m afraid the roughest we get is beating each other with branches to get the blood flowing in the sauna. Father Paul Chudanow is just finishing up basketball practice with some of the boys. Let’s visit him, shall we?”
Father Wazinski led the way into the building. Father Francesco turned to look once again at the group of boys who were still watching them.
Meanwhile, in Rome, poor twelve-year-old Pietro was having a rough time of it. He had gotten out of the Vatican but had to pay the price to exit. He was apprehended right outside the big open square by a very tall, imposing, member of the Vatican Security Force. A large hand grabbed the little boy by the scruff of the neck.
“And where do you think you’re going, you young shit?”
“Huh? Oh, hello, sir. I’m on a secret mission for Cardinal Barcola.”
The boy tried to look as if he were in control.
“Oh, yes? And what kind of mission?”
“If I told you, it wouldn’t be secret.”
“I have no instructions to allow one of the Vatican cunt boys out into Rome.”
The security guard eyed the boy and liked what he saw.
“Do you want me to report you to the Cardinal?”
The boy tried to stand up to the tall, muscular man. For his arrogance, he received a punch to his tender little boy belly. He doubled over in pain.
“Don’t you talk that way to me, assboy! I know what you do in there. Either you tell me what your mission is, or you don’t get through unless God himself comes down from Heaven to lead you.”
Little Pietro had to think fast. He was not good at mendaciousness. In the Vatican, getting caught lying led to horrible punishments. He had learned that God’s agents on earth liked little boys to tell the truth. But now, he had to lie.
“My little brother, I’m supposed to go to my home and fetch my little six-year-old brother for the Cardinal.”
The security agent shook his head.
“Younger and younger boy ass, what the fuck is wrong with our religious leaders today? Can’t they be happy anymore with teenage boy ass? Sure, our local priest fucked me—I was a cute boy. But I was fourteen at the time. Our priest wouldn’t have thought of fucking anything under twelve. The world is changing. Oh, I know there are stories in the Vatican’s past of various Popes bathing in large marble sunken tubs with little boys of four and five diving under the rose scented waters to suck their cocks. I have often heard of the “table boys” of five years of age who crawl beneath the banquet tables at mealtime to slurp on holy dick! I even heard of one Pope who would spread five or six naked little boys of three and four on his mattress at night. The boys were taught not to move, so that the Pope could sleep right on top of them, using them for his mattress. But those are just Vatican legends. It saddens me to think that your little brother might wake up tomorrow ass fucked. Tell me, boy, have you ever sucked the Pope’s dick?”
The uniformed guard looked down at the fair-haired boy. Pietro shook his head.
“No, sir, I only suck Cardinal Barcola and his friends.”
“And are you a good cocksucker?”
Pietro nodded as he spoke, “If I were not, I would be punished.”
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll allow you to go into the city to fetch your brother is you give me a sample of your skill.”
Pietro didn’t even have to think twice about it. He reached down and unzipped the dark blue uniform trousers. The security officer only had a medium-sized dick, about six and a half inches. It was not yet hard when the boy fished it out of the pants. The guard put a hand on the boy’s head.
“One more thing, on the way back, in order to get in, your little brother has to suck me as well.”
Pietro wanted to keep up the fantasy to protect himself.
“But he has never sucked a dick, sir. The Cardinal’s is to be his first.”
“It will be nice to know that a lowly Vatican security policeman got a boy’s dick before the almighty Cardinal Barcola. I’ll sleep better knowing that. So do we have a deal or not?”
“Very well, sir.”
Pietro had no intention of returning to the Vatican, and he had no brother.
“Good. Then get to work.” The tall man forced the boy’s face into his sweaty crotch. “And lick my balls too. I want a good job, or you don’t get through.”
In Poland, Father Wazinski led his guests into the school gymnasium. The facilities inside had a much more practical modern look than the rustic outside, but still, the entire facility was rather run-down.
“Father Paul!” the older priest called out to his young cohort. Father Paul, who was good-looking and very athletic in manner, turned from his boys and smiled as he waved.
“We’re just finishing up here. You’re too late for the game.”
“We just stopped in to say hello. I have some guests. This is Bishop Manzini and Father Francesco from Rome.”
“From Rome? Well, then, excuse my state of undress. We like to play basketball in the ancient Greek manner, totally bare-ass naked,” the young priest responded.
And it was true. The entire gang of boys playing basketball was all totally naked, handsome boys with healthy bodies, all bare-assed with dicks and balls fully on display. Father Francesco was falling in love with this seminary.
Bishop Manzini laughed.
“Without jerseys, how do the boys tell who is on which team?”
Father Paul grinned and nodded.
“We think of everything. The boys on the blue team wear a blue ribbon tied around their dicks.”
Father Wazinski bobbed his head in agreement.
“I don’t know what I would do here without Father Paul. He is always coming up with new diversions for our boys. And he doesn’t stint when it comes to God either. Just last week, he conducted a Masturbation Mass. It was lovely. They even wrote their own songs. And sometimes they organize basketball games without the blue ribbons. In that case, one team has erect penises, and they must maintain their erections all during the game. It’s quite fun. Well, I think the boys want to hit the showers. Let’s take a stroll through the shower room, shall we? I know many of the boys will be thrilled to meet you up close and personal. We don’t get nearly enough guests here. And the shower is a good place for you to ‘size up’ our boys. Now, as to priests with big dicks, we have Father Paul here who you can see is quite hung, even when flaccid. Paul, you aren’t by any chance ten inches, are you?”
The young physical education priest blushed.
“I’m not sure, Father, I’ve never measured.”
Father Francesco spoke up.
“Well, would you mind later if we measured you erect? It’s for a Vatican project.”
Father Paul raised one eyebrow. He was quite handsome.
“The Vatican is sending out priests to measure the fuckers of other priests? That is quite an unusual project.”
Bishop Manzini raised both hands.
“I know, I know, it is most unusual, but believe me, we’re on a mission on behalf of the Holy Father, and although we cannot disclose the exact nature of the mission to everyone, I can tell you that a small part of it involves measuring various cocks. Do you have any objection?”
“No, none at all, it’s just that it is a most curious request. However, I think you shall be disappointed. I don’t believe I’m over nine inches.”
Father Francesco lit up.
“I myself am just over nine, so perhaps we can measure my dick next to yours and judge the length that way.”
Father Paul laughed.
“Sounds delightful. Things are looking up around here. Oh, by the way, my cock is quite thick as you can see. Does thickness mean anything to your project?”
“I’m sure the Holy Father would appreciate a nice thick dick for the purpose he has in mind, but it’s the length with which we’re most concerned—actually, length and fucking technique.”
“Fucking technique? Well, you’ll have to ask the boys about my performance. Shall we, as they say, hit the showers?”
Gina was pulling at the chastity device encasing the thick prick and balls of Karl Lundquist.
“It has to come off. It has to! I need you to fuck me!”
“For shit’s sake, be careful. Do you want to rip my fucking dick off, you crazy bitch!”
Karl was at the end of his rope. He couldn’t stand being unable to orgasm. His balls were in constant pain.
“What good is your dick if you can’t fuck with it? I love you, Karl, but I need sex. You’re the one who turned me on to your dick, and now you deprive me of it. My pussy is on fire.”
“Shall I suck your cunt again? I don’t much like doing it, but I will because I love you.”
“I don’t need a cunt suck. I need to be fucked. I need something up, my pussy!”
“Well, we could try the candle or the wine bottle again. You seemed to enjoy them last night.”
“I need to feel cock flesh.”
Suddenly, Gina’s eyes grew wide. Karl turned to see what she was staring at. In the doorway stood her little brother naked with his erect dick in his hand.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Gina snapped at the young boy.
Karl could see the child was staring not at his sister, but at him, taking in his golden skin, his strong muscles, and his well-packed ass.
“Why do you have a cage on your cock?” the boy asked with the high thin voice of a child.
“It’s nothing you need to know about. Go away,” Karl shouted at the boy.
A sad frown covered the boyish face. The young boy idolized the soldier.
“No, wait!” Gina shouted. “Karl, look at the cock on my little brother. True he’s only a child, but still, it’s a real live cock.”
“So?” Karl asked.
“I need a cock to fuck me. And there’s a cock!”
“Gina, you would have your own little brother who is just entering puberty fuck you? You would commit the sin of incest?”
“I need a cock in my cunt. How many ways can I tell you? I can’t stand it. If you cannot fuck me, then he can. True, he is so small that I shall hardly feel it, but a small cock is better than no cock at all.”
She spread her legs for her little brother to see her gaping needy twat. The boy would much rather be in bed with the Swiss Guard, but perhaps he could get to him through her. He approached the bed, his young pink boyish dick bobbing before him.
“Have you ever fucked?” she asked her brother. He shook his head negatively. “Well, climb up here and let me show you how.”
Karl twisted his face in anguish. It was at that moment that he conceived of the idea of finding a way out of his cock cage. He needed the get the key. Cardinal Barcola had the key. Karl Lundquist needed to murder Cardinal Barcola. Murder Barcola, get the key and unlock his dick. And no one must ever know. Karl Lundquist looked at Gina’s brother kneeling over her, young prick quivering with sexual tension, and he realized that he might be able to use the boy to get to the Cardinal. He reached out a hand and stroked the boy’s soft, smooth neck. The touch of the guardsman sent the little guy over the edge, and he splattered his sister’s tits with cum.
“No, don’t cum yet, you fucking piece of horse crap! I need you up inside me. You shot all over just from Karl touching you. What about my cunt? WHAT ABOUT MY CUNT?”
The little boy hung naked from the wrists. His body turned like a piñata at some Mexican festival. Hanging from his tiny dick was a cord to which was attached a heavy weight. When the old priest administering to him kicked the weight, it swung, and the naked little boy screamed out in agony.
“Pietro is your friend. Your little fuck buddy. You must have some idea where he would run. After all, he had to have someplace in mind.”
The priest attending to the little boy was the dreaded Father Giancarlo. Father Giancarlo was ancient and horrible in both appearance and sexual tastes. He shuffled around the little boy, poking and pinching the naked pale body.
“Come, come, where did Pietro run to?”
“Please, Father, it hurts. It hurts so bad. I don’t know. He just wanted to get away from here. Anywhere. He didn’t care where he went.”
Tears ran down the child’s cheeks and dripped from his chin. His tiny penis was stretched beyond belief. From a darkened corner of the Vatican basement chamber, Cardinal Barcola watched, munching on a bunch of grapes. He marveled at the obstinacy of some of these little boy bitches. Father Giancarlo extended one gnarled, wrinkled hand and cupped one of the little boy’s ass cheeks.
“Sweet thing, you’re not thinking hard enough. Pietro must surely have mentioned to you where he would go if he were outside the Vatican. He must have had some dream of refuge someplace. You just need to remember.”
“I don’t know. Honest, Father, I just don’t know.”
“You’re not trying hard enough.”
Father Giancarlo shook his head and clicked his dentures. He picked up one of the little boy’s thin legs and held it by the ankle. Then, from somewhere, he produced a long metal skewer, a rod sharpened at one end. He drove the thin spike into the sole of the little boy’s naked foot. The child’s entire body vibrated and a very high-pitched wail escaped from his lips.
Cardinal Barcola chuckled.
“That little bitch should be given a solo in the choir. How about trying one of those long needles through his little dick?”
Across Rome, in a small apartment, Karl Lundquist, a member of the elite Vatican Swiss Guard, sat on an unmade bed and talked to young Angelo Vinetti, brother of Gina Vinetti, the guardsman’s girlfriend.
“I want you to help me, Angelo. There’s an evil man in the Vatican. He’s the one who put this nasty cage on my cock and balls. I want you to help me to bring him down. He is very fond of little boys like you, and you can help me to destroy him. Are you willing to do that? It will be dangerous, but together, we can do it.”
Angelo looked up into the handsome soldier’s eyes.
“I would do anything for you, Karl. Anything. I wish that I were my sister then I could be with you all the time.”
The little boy put one hand on Karl’s naked thigh. He loved the dusting of hair on the man’s strong leg. He loved everything about Karl Lundquist. He was at that age when little boys hero-worship strong, good-looking men. He masturbated every night while thinking about Karl and his sister Gina. Just the night before, because Karl could not fuck Gina due to his cock cage, little Angelo had had his first fuck. His own sister had taken his small but strong dick and put it in her pussy. It was not a very satisfying fuck for either of them. His cock was not large enough to please the slut Gina, who had mainly chosen Karl Lundquist for his dick size. Nor did the fuck please little Angelo who would much rather be snuggling up naked in bed with Karl, but now, he was getting his chance to be with Karl, to help him in a very secret and important task.
“If I don’t get this cock cage off soon, your sister will dump me and go looking for another boyfriend. In order to get the key to the cage, I have to do something horrible to the nasty man who put it on me. To get to him, I will need your help. Will you, can you do this for me?”
Karl reached out and touched the little boy on his soft young cheek. He resembled his sister in many ways. The boy felt a charge of electricity go through him when the soldier touched him.
“I told you I will do anything for you. Just tell me what.”
“All right, first, I have to teach you how to suck cock. Cardinal Barcola will be most vulnerable when a little boy like you is sucking on his dick. That’s when is defenses are down. I can also get into his private chambers without anyone else knowing if I tell him I have a new little mouth and ass for him to fuck. When he fucks little boy ass and mouth, he disables the cameras, so there’s no chance of a recording of his actions. With no cameras, I can perform my nefarious but necessary deed.”
“But how can I learn how to suck cock, when yours is in a cage?”
The boy reached out hesitantly and touched the plastic and steel enclosed dick of the soldier.
“I’m going to call a friend of mine in the guards. He is trustworthy and knows of my predicament. He will come over here and let you practice on his dick.”
The little boy wrinkled up his nose.
“But I don’t want his dick. I want to do it with you.”
“I thought you wanted to help me in any way possible. This is the only way. You must have some knowledge of cocksucking, or the Cardinal will be on to you at once. He is very smart when it comes to little cocksuckers. He’s had so many. And I can only recommend you to him if he thinks you’ve been sucking my cock. He might even ask you questions about your skills before he allows you into his private chambers.”
“I have watched Gina suck your cock lots of times. I think I can do it. The boy rested his sweet head on Karl’s muscular arm.
“Still, we’d better have you practice on my friend, just to make sure. One false move and we’re all doomed.”
Poor little Pietro was not doing well. He was once again naked, but now in the back alleys of Rome. He had been mugged by a gang of street boys. They had stolen the clothing that he had in turn stolen at the Vatican. They took his shorts, tee shirt, and sandals. They also shoved a wine bottle up his tiny asshole. It hurt terribly, but he had had so much cock up his stretched rectum at the Vatican that he was able to cope with it.
After he carefully pulled the bottle from his asshole and washed a bit at a local fountain, he made his way deeper into the city, hugging the shadows to hide his shameful nakedness. He was bruised from the battering the gang of boys had given him. When they realized he had no money at all, they had kicked him in anger. His little twelve-year-old balls were swollen from their boots. But then a bit of luck, he saw a pair of little boy’s red underpants hanging from a clothesline, so at least he could cover his naked genitals. And later, he discovered a pair of old boots in a dumpster. Now at least his feet would not get damaged further by the stones and rough concrete.
Still, he drew many an odd glance as he walked across the city in only underpants and boots. Many boys and young adult men laughed at him and called him rude names like “slut” and “boywhore.” He was terrifically hungry and had to fight back fits of crying. Where was he going? What could he do? He decided that he had to hustle to get some money. He would have to peddle his twelve-year-old ass and mouth. He knew he was a beautiful child and did not doubt he could get some lonely gay tourist or even some local ruffians to pick him up.
‘I’ll get some money from selling my ass,’ he said to himself, ‘and then I will never let anyone abuse me again.’
Meanwhile, in Poland, Bishop Manzini walked into one of the seminary’s dorm rooms to find Father Francesco fucking around with two naked seminary students. One teenage boy was sucking on the good Father’s toes, holding the strong foot and licking and sucking lovingly. At the same time, another cute Polish student was squatting up over the Father’s handsome head, feeding him a big fat eight-inch dick. The boy was chatting away merrily in Polish as he fucked his thick dripping tool in and out of the Father’s throat. Father Francesco was also whacking his own swollen fuckmeat as hard as he could. It was a wholesome, healthy sight. Above the bed on which they fucked, hung a giant wooden cross. A naked boy who was standing next to the bed and watching the fuckers came over to Bishop Manzini, stroking his own leaking teenage dick.
“Good evening, Bishop,” he said in broken English. “I’m hoping you are enjoying your stay with us at our religious school. Here we learn to love Jesus.” He stood there pumping his prick, a long string of pre-fuck drooling down almost to the floor. “Would you please enjoy a nice cocksuck? I’m happy to do this for you. We love to have visitors at our school. May I please to suck on your cock?”
Bishop Manzini reached out and gripped the thick dick on the teenager.
“Perhaps later, first, we have work to do. Father Manzini, on your feet, you can continue this later. Right now, we need to determine if Father Paul is a fit candidate for our project.”
“No offense, Manzini,” Francesco said when he had taken the leaking dick out of his mouth much to the displeasure of the teenage fucker, “but can’t you measure his dick alone? I’m sure you are able.”
Father Francesco’s voice was thick with sperm and pre-fuck. Strings of cock leak hung from his lips.
“We’re in this together, and I expect you to behave like a professional. Now get your ass out of that bed. You can join your boys again in an hour or so. We need to not only measure Father Paul’s prick but also interview him.”
The poor little boy hanging from his wrists was out of his mind with pain. His screams raced down the Vatican halls and filled dark empty corners. Some priests held their ears in horror at the sounds, while others whipped out their dicks and masturbated, imagining what was happening to the boy. Even the Holy Father, who was having his feet licked by two five-year-old boys who were naked and linked together by a gold chain which went from one tiny penis to the other, raised his head and asked an aide what that high pitched wailing was.
“Choir practice, Holy Father.”
“Does the choirmaster know that for the Easter Celebration Party I want the little boy choir to sing totally naked, and each boy must have a hard prick throughout?”
The aide bowed.
“He has been told, Holy Father. I’m sure he is working on it with the boys. Would you like something to bugger tonight?”
The boy in the basement now had long sharp needles sticking out of his belly and legs and ass and feet and penis. He could no longer speak but only blubbered. His eyes rolled in his head, and spittle hung from his blue cherub lips. More weight had been added to his dicklet which was now stretched almost to the point of ripping out of his body. Cardinal Barcola had joined the action just for fun. He had a cigar lit and burning, and after puffing on it to get it really glowing, he touched the hot tip to the boy’s tiny scrotum bag.
“Think, my little cunt, where Pietro might run off to. We really need to find him for his own good,” Cardinal Barcola glanced at Father Giancarlo, “and for our good as well.”
Giancarlo nodded. “What say, Cardinal Barcola, we fill this little shit up with a nice piss enema. Let’s see how much piss he can hold in his tiny tummy before he explodes.”
“If you think it will produce the desired results, by all means.”
“Just masturbate your dick to get it as big as possible, and then Father Francesco will measure it.”
Handsome Father Paul squinted his dark eyes.
“What kind of project is the Vatican involved in, may I ask. Are they listing the cock sizes of all priests?”
Father Francesco held the tape measure and grinned flirtingly at the cute Polish priest. He had been interrupted mid-fuck and was now horny as hell.
“No, Father. We are only looking for cocks of ten inches or more. The Holy Father needs a big fat talented dick on a newly ordained priest. It is our job to find contenders for the project.”
The Polish priest stood there naked, pumping his fuckmeat. Soon it was leaking from the pisshole. His fat, low hanging nuts jiggled and danced as he pounded his prick.
“And what does the selected priest have the honor of doing for the Holy Father?”
“Alas, at this time, I am not at liberty to tell you. However, if you measure larger than ten inches, I will be happy to explain everything.”
The handsome Polish priest stood back and released his hand from his fucker. It stood out proudly and obscenely, a magnificent boy fucker with a thick pulled back foreskin.
“Well, that’s about it.”
“It is beautiful, indeed. A real suck and fuck masterpiece,” Francesco said, reaching out and taking the thick wet dick in his hand. It pulsed and jerked itself away from Francesco’s hand, “a feisty fucker, indeed!”
Francesco laughed, grabbing the slick dick again.
“Yes, it often has a mind of its own. Sometimes it pops out of a boy’s ass mid-fuck, and I have a devil of a time getting it back in.”
“Well, it’s thick, I’ll say that. I can hardly get my hand around it. Let’s measure it, shall we? I’ll put one end of the tape deep into your pubic hair here, right at the cock root, and then I’ll just stretch the tape along your fucker.”
The young Polish Priest blushed.
“I don’t mind telling you, this is a bit embarrassing.”
“My God, boy, with a cuntbuster like this, you should be proud, not embarrassed.”
Bishop Manzini leaned in to see clearer.
“I think I’ll measure all the boys on the basketball team…just for fun.”
“It’s good to keep records of such things. I know priests at Catholic middle and high schools who measure the boys’ dicks once a week. Of course, at that age, they grow and change rapidly. What do we have Father Francesco?”
“A bit under nine and a half inches, I’m afraid.”
“Oh, dear, I was so hoping we had found a suitable candidate.
“Father Francesco, why don’t you pump the dick to see if your hand can add half an inch or so?”
As Father Paul stood very stiffly, a disturbed frown on his face, Father Francesco gripped the pucker and began to stroke it.
“It has really nice pliable dick skin which moves back and forth. This is really a superb prick. I’ll bet the boys are in heaven when you fuck them.”
“Well, all we do around this God forsaken place is pray, play sports, and fuck. Mostly fuck. Oh shit, that feels so fucking good. You certainly know how to pump a prick, Father Francesco.”
“I do a pretty good job, especially when I have something beautiful to work with. This is one of the finest dicks I have ever encountered. Look at the leak on my hand.”
The priest’s hand was slick with pre-fuck. It dripped from his wrist to the floor. Father Paul’s breathing was growing ragged, and his well-formed pecs rose and fell, the nipples looking ready to burst. Father Paul looked about ready to eat Father Francesco alive.
“Maybe, if I sucked on your nipples, it would extend your prick length.”
“Whatever is necessary,” Father Paul replied. “I think perhaps if you disrobed, Father Francesco, my dick might put on half an inch.”
Father Francesco nodded and stripped off his cassock. His own nine-inch fuckmeat was spraying pre-fuck.
“Does that help?”
“Oh, believe me, Father, it helps a great deal. Now, if you want to suck on my nipples, please do.”
Hunky Father Francesco lowered his head to the chest of the Polish priest and took one of the fat pouty nipples into his mouth. He sucked roughly and then began to chew on the nipple. The Polish priest grunted and wheezed, his thick boyfucker growing in both length and girth. There was a pool of pre-fuck at his feet.
“Oh, Christ, Christ, that feels good, Jesus, motherfucking Christ, that’s awesome.”
“Measure it now!” Bishop Manzini shouted, fearing the Polish sausage dick would explode in another second.
Father Francesco stepped back and once more put a tape measure to the fucker.
“Goddamn it to hell…just under ten inches.”
Father Francesco reached down, grabbed the dick head, and pulled on it. He released it and slapped the fuckmeat. Then he pulled on it again.
“Just a little more.”
“I’m going to shoot. I am fucking going to shoot!” Father Paul yelled, clenching his hands into fists.
Father Francesco grabbed the huge young Polish balls and yanked on them.
“Not fucking yet. Don’t come yet. Let me measure once more.”
Everyone in the room was grunting with the tension of the moment.
“Jesus, you’ve got a fucking huge dick head. It’s like a fucking apple. You must really bust open a boy’s rectum.”
Father Francesco began a series of quick rough jerks. The dick slipped out of hand again and slapped Father Paul’s stomach. It twitched and throbbed. Slime bubbled from the pulsing piss lips.
“I can’t hold back anymore. Mother Mary, Mother of God, I’m cumming.”
Just at that moment, Father Francesco slid the tape measure onto the fuckmeat once again.
“I think it’s ten. If not, it is just a fuck hair short. I think he qualifies.”
Father Paul grunted and splattered the other naked priest with sperm. The dick jumped, and globs of cum hit Father Francesco on the face and chest. Some of the sperm even landed on Bishop Manzini, who scooped it up onto a finger and licked it up.
“I think it was ten. I’m pretty sure it was ten.”
Father Francesco slid his hand through the spooge on his chest and then licked his palm, but Bishop Manzini raised a warning finger.
“I need to call the Vatican. You did a great job, Father Paul, but I need to seek counsel from Cardinal Barcola. Is it acceptable if the fucker only reaches ten inches the moment before orgasm? Or must the boy buster be ten inches at the start of the fuck? The devil is in the details. Perhaps the two of you would like to shower together. I’ll make the phone call.”
Pietro was unhappy and uncomfortable, to say the least. The Rome evening was chilly, and he was dressed in only a tiny pair of red underpants and some oversized boots. He was a thin, delicate child, and he had eaten no food for over twenty-four hours. He had tried to steal some vegetables from a street seller but had been caught and sent off with a boot to his cute young ass. He was damned lucky he had not been held for the police, as Pietro was certain by now the Vatican police had alerted the Rome police to be on the lookout for a runaway boy.
The police would think him nothing but an ungrateful orphan making up terrible lies about the priests. They would never believe that the poor twelve-year-old had to endure as many as nine or ten large priests’ cocks up his tiny asshole each day. They would never believe that he sometimes had to suck twenty or more dicks each day and swallow the disgusting cum. They would never believe that he had to put on sex shows with other little boys, shows where children were made to suck and fuck each other.
And as Cardinal Barcola’s private attendant, there had been “special” duties of an exceptionally horrific nature. He had been responsible for licking the old priest’s ass. Sometimes, the priest would not clean himself very carefully after he had taken a shit, and he made the little boy finish the job. On occasion, Cardinal Barcola would piss into a silver-jeweled goblet from some ancient century, and then demand that little Pietro drink the foul piss from the goblet. Pietro recalled these things with horror and swore he would rather die of starvation on the streets of Rome than ever go back to Cardinal Barcola, but hunger can diminish one’s resolve.
He spotted a tourist who looked to be gay. How does a boy of twelve judge a tourist to be queer? This one had an expensive leather shoulder bag and wore a wildly printed summer shirt, baggy white shorts and sandals. He had a gold chain around his neck. He and his two friends, who were dressed similarly, were pointing at various landmarks and gesturing wildly. Pietro watched from the shadows. He had been spent most of the day hanging around a fountain where some children were cooling off in the water, and his red underpants might pass for a swimsuit, but the hunger pains in his little tummy demanded that he do something to ease his discomfort quickly. He knew he had his target when an attractive Italian boy of fifteen or so passed by on a bicycle and all three tourists turned to stare at him. They made all kinds of pleased faces and gestured some more, hands flapping, and Pietro knew he had to make his move. He walked up to the three tourists.
“Oh my, oh my, oh my, what have we here?” one of the queers said in a thin wispy voice.
All three men looked down at him.
“That’s the prettiest little princess I have seen in a long time and wearing nothing except just a thin pair of thin worn underpants. That’s just how I like my boys.”
“Really, Bruce, isn’t he a bit young, even for you? This little cunt can’t be more than eleven or twelve.”
“Listen, sister, I say if their balls have dropped they’re fair game, and from the package on this little twat, I’d say he’s ready. You had your hands all over that little boy when we took that vineyard tour the other day, and that kid couldn’t have been more than six or seven. I thought sure we’d all be arrested.”
“Kirk is right. You bounced the son of the lady who worked there on your knee, and before you know it, your hand was up under his shorts and probing his asshole. And then you sucked on your finger. I’m sure it tainted the taste of the wine.”
“You’re one to talk. Every time we go into a public urinal, and there are little boys there, you stand way back when you piss so all the children can see your big dick. We’re rather sick your dick displays.”
The one named Bruce held up his hand.
“Girls, please, if you’re not interested in little underpants boy here, fine, but let’s not condemn each other out of simple bitchiness. Go check out some frescos or something.
“Hi little boy, do you speak English?”
Pietro studied them. They were a curious threesome, rather overdone and silly.
“I speak little bit English. Little bit.”
“Little bit is good enough. You’re very cute. May I take your picture? Photo? I will pay you.”
Bruce had a nice smile if a bit overdone. Perhaps Pietro could make some money without having to suck dick.
Bruce looked around.
“How about on those church steps over there, just stand on the steps and smile.”
Pietro climbed the steps, put his hands on his slender hips, and smiled. Bruce started to snap photos.
“Look at the fucking ass on that pussy,” Kirk said, rubbing his hand over his own bulging crotch.
”What is your name. My name is Bruce. Bruce. And you are…”
“Ah, Peter. Peter, you’re very cute. Now bend over for us, please. Here I will put an American dollar on the steps, and you bend over to pick it up. Spread your legs a little more. Good boy. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, look at the boy-cunt on that bitch.”
“Quite frankly, I’d rather get fucked up my ass by some big Italian dick than play games with little street boys.”
“Variety is the spice of life, Melvin, the spice of life.
“Now Pietro, can you just pull your underpants down, just a little. Just to be sexy. You know, sexy?” The faggot wiggled his fingers and danced around. “Sexy. Just pull your underpants down a bit. Jesus, look, boys, he hasn’t even got any prick hair yet. He must have just hit puberty. Lift your arms for me, baby. Lift them. No armpit hair. Great.”
“What’s great about that? I like a sweaty soldier with great clumps of stinking armpit hair for me to suck.”
“That’s very nice, but a slender, smooth boy with not a hair on his little body can also be enticing. Can you imagine, Kirk, how this little bitch would feel spit roasted between our dicks?”
Pietro had pulled the front of his underpants lower, almost to his dick root.
“Now baby, can you pull your underpants in back down below your ass cheeks, right under that pretty little ass? I’ll pay you well. Here. Here’s five American dollars. Let me take some photos of your ass.”
Pietro clutched the six dollars he had made so far in one little hand and showed his ass to the three perverts. They cooed and clucked over his pale, perfectly rounded ass globes.
“Look at those red marks, girls. It looks like our little whore here has taken a belt to his ass recently. How sweet. Maybe his daddy or his older brother beat his ass if he doesn’t bring home enough money each night from sucking dick.”
“Sucking? Heaven’s no, Mary. I’ll bet you anything that this is a little ass boy. Are you a little ass boy, Pietro? Do you take it up the ass?”
“No, comprendo!” or something like that came out of the little boy’s mouth. The three faggots were hardly listening. They were drooling over the kid and snapping photos.
“That’s just great Pietro, but how would you like to earn twenty dollars, twenty American dollars? All you need to do is take off your underpants and let us take some nice photos of you posing naked. Like one of the statues. Just like one of the statues. Just peel down and step out of your underpants.”
“Right out here on the street, Bruce? Are you mad? We could get arrested.”
“Do you see anyone paying attention to us? We just happened to be passing and snapped some pics of this street bitch cavorting around bare-assed. Come on, Pietro, take off the underpants.”
Pietro held out his hand for the twenty. So far, so good. Once he had the money, he lowered the red underpants to the delighted gasps of the faggots. He stepped out of them and picked them up.
“Oh, my God, isn’t that sweet. Look at the sweet baby dick on that boy. And those smooth tiny balls. They look as if they just dropped days ago. Let me get a picture of that. Spread your legs, honey.”
“Get him to squat. Get him to squat with his legs spread. Bruce, you get in the picture with him.”
The three tourists had the best time on their trip so far taking picture after picture of the naked little boy.
“Can you masturbate it for us, Pietro? Can you play with it? Get it big and hard. Here’s another five. Get your dick hard for us.”
It never took much for Pietro to throw a boner. Back at the Vatican, the other boys laughed at him because he walked around with a hard dick most of the time. Now a quick hard pull and his boy prick was standing proud.
“Oh my, he’s going to be hung like a horse when he finishes growing. Ain’t that beautiful?”
“I think his dick is already larger than Alvin Turner’s.”
“Well, we don’t call her Pickle Prick for nothing.”
The three faggots howled with laughter.
“That’s one fine cock for a little boy. Yes, dear, pull that foreskin back. You need to work your foreskin every day, honey. Melvin, whip out your big fucker and show the little boy how a big dick looks. Show him your foreskin.”
They had no idea of the countless dicks little Pietro had not only seen and touched but also sucked.
“Go ahead, take yours out, Melvin. You’re always showing it to the boys in the toilets. Show it to our little model here.”
Melvin smiled and unzipped.
“How’s that, Pietro? Isn’t that the most beautiful thing you have ever seen? Cocks are so beautiful, aren’t they? Do you want to give it a little kiss?”
Melvin had a dick that was a good eight inches flaccid. A thick foreskin hung over the head. Pietro pretended to be impressed.
“For Christ’s sake, not out here in the open, let’s take him back to our hotel.”
“Will they let a naked little cunt up into our rooms?”
While Kirk and Melvin bickered, Bruce was shooting photos.
“Pietro, could you turn around please and let me take some pictures of your beautiful ass? Can you manage to spread your ass cheeks for me a little?
“Look at this asshole, girls, it’s been fucked. This is no virgin asshole.
“You fuck for a living, don’t you, you little cunt? I thought I was getting a pure little boy, and all we have here is a street whore. Why am I shelling out money for a five dollar street whore?”
But it was too late. Pietro had thirty-six dollars. He reached out and grabbed the expensive leather shoulder bag that the faggot had foolishly set down. Now clutching his prize, the naked boy ran off down the street, leaped bare-assed over a large garbage dumpster and disappeared up an alley.
“Well, I’ll be fucked,” said Bruce.
“If you’re lucky,” snapped Kirk.
In Poland, Bishop Manzini shook his head with dismay.
“Cardinal Barcola is adamant. The cock must be ten inches at the start of the fuck. He wants the full ten inches to penetrate the little boy.”
Father Paul raised an eyebrow and snorted.
“You want a boy fucker? I’m not sure I would be willing to fuck a little boy. I’ve heard about Vatican parties where the goal is to rip the rectums of very young boys. I’ve heard of very young children getting ass fucked by foot long candlesticks, and being forced to crawl around the room licking each other with the objects up their little asses. We’re a very sexual, but a very gentle seminary here. Father Wazinski teaches us to love. When we play with the local children, we fuck them with love and tenderness.”
“Still, to serve the Holy Father, you could fuck as roughly as is required for once in your life. Think of it as an honor to perform such a duty,” Father Francesco said, gently pumping Father Paul’s giant prick.
“I’m not sure I could muster up the required energy to rape a little boy’s ass. His cries would not entice me.”
“None of that matters now. The Cardinal wants the chosen dick to be ten inches or over at the start of the fuck. You barely managed it just before you shot your load.”
Father Francesco was working hard on Father Paul’s prick again. The fucker was leaking once more.
“But perhaps with a bit of work and some practice, we could get it to ten inches. It’s such a beautiful dick, we can’t just give up on it. Let’s take him with us as a possible contender. We can work every day on stretching his dick.”
“Well, I suppose he could travel with us, as we continue our search. It couldn’t hurt to have a back-up.”
“What about my work here? What about my basketball team?”
Father Paul wasn’t at all sure about this whole thing.
“Father Wazinski can handle things. You’re on a mission for the Vatican—for the Pope. If we can get that dick to ten inches, and you can be convinced to rape a little boy, you may save the day for all of us.”
Father Francesco’s blue eyes sparkled.
“Maybe, if I sucked on it a lot, we could get an extra half inch out of it.”
“It couldn’t hurt,” replied Manzini.
Father Francesco licked the pre-fuck from his hand and then pumped the big dick again.
“Father Paul, perhaps if we found what turns you on more than anything, it would help. What turns you on more than anything in the world?”
Father Paul blushed and smiled.
“You!” he said.
“Well, it’s too late to set out tonight, and I have three young men waiting for me back at the dorm,” Bishop Manzini said. “We’ll set out first thing in the morning. We’ll head for Germany to visit with a certain Father Dorfman.
“Francesco, what shall I tell those boys waiting for you back in the dorm?”
The room was filled with the squishing sound of Father Francesco’s hand moving the thick slime-coated skin of Father Paul’s massive fucker back and forth.
”Tell the boys I’m sorry, but I’m working on a project for the Vatican.”
In the Vatican, Cardinal Barcola was in a foul mood. He had just finished a phone call with Manzini and not much progress had been made finding a child rapist for the Pope.
“Why the fuck does the old man demand ten inches or more? Why can’t he be satisfied with a respectable eight inches? A nice thick eight inches could destroy any eight-year-old boy ass if administered properly. Why does God burden me with this?”
He was talking to himself, mostly, but he was overheard by Karl Lundquist who was crouching naked atop a dressing table. He had been made to squat there for the visual pleasure of the Cardinal. His dick cage had been removed. At first, as always, the guardsman’s fucker had sprung into a leaking erection, but Cardinal Barcola had used a wooden rod to beat it down, and now it hung thick and heavy between the soldier’s legs. Karl had been made to take two more Viagra, and he knew that soon he would be in sexual agony, out of his mind with the need to cum.
“How is your fat dick feeling now?” the Cardinal asked.
“It hurts, and it itches and stings, Father. Please allow me to cum.”
“Are you kidding? I told you, if you cum without permission, not only is your career over, but I will see to it your family is ruined. You need to learn how to control that dirty fucking dick of yours.”
“But I haven’t done anything wrong, Father. How have I sinned?”
The cock was starting to grow now. Soon it would be painfully erect.
“You fuck that disgusting girlfriend of yours. I told you when you were hired that you were special, that a specimen of manhood like you must be pure, pure to serve the church. And what did you do? You celebrated getting accepted by the Vatican Swiss Guard by fucking that filthy cunt you call a girlfriend. You will not cum until I allow it. A few more months of cock discipline should teach you a lesson. And then, if you please me properly, I shall milk that fat dick of yours.”
“I honestly don’t think I can control it, Father. It will cum all by itself. I feel sure of it. Every day it gets worse and worse.”
“You’d better fucking pray to the Lord God that it doesn’t cum. I am not kidding. Perhaps a more restrictive chastity device is in order.”
The handsome young soldier squatting on the dresser groaned, and the Cardinal chuckled. Karl knew he had no choice but to put his desperate plan into action.
“Father, I want to please you. I live to please you.”
“Then learn to control your dick.”
“I’ve seen a boy that I think you would love to have. He’s the little brother of my girlfriend. He is perfection itself.”
“I have all the little boys I can handle. This is not your concern.”
“But this boy, if you could see him—I’m not a boy fucker, but even I would not hesitate to sample his treasures—he is magnificent, and so shy, and so very innocent.”
“Really, do you have a photo of him?”
“Yes, Father, in my uniform pocket. When I saw him, I could only think of how he might please you.”
The cardinal rummaged through the soldier’s uniform until he found his wallet and inside the wallet, the photo.
“Oh my, he is beautiful. I give you credit, Karl, thinking of me. Perhaps I shall allow you to cum in a month if this pans out. This boy is exquisite. And you can bring him to me?”
“He’s the brother of my girlfriend. There should be no problem.”
Karl’s cock was painfully hard now, bobbing in front of him as he squatted. Cardinal brought the wooden rod down on the soldier’s dick and nut sack.
“Get rid of that hard-on. You will get hard when I say and only when I say. Now, about this boy, before I let you bring him here, I will require naked photos of him. Front and back, close-ups of his dick and asshole. Full body shots, one of him bending over and holding his ass cheeks open, one of him pissing, and one of his dick soft and one hard.”
“But Father, he is totally innocent. How can I get such photos?”
The Cardinal smirked at the naked soldier.
“That, my fine young soldier, is your problem. I want them by Friday.”
The poor little boy who had been hanging by his wrists in the basement was now lying naked on his back on a cot. He was in terrible shape. Disgusting old Father Giancarlo had stripped off his own clothes and was shambling around the damp room naked. His body was a mass of wrinkled hanging flesh, blue in some places, spotted with liver spots in others. His ass was boney, and his ass cheeks hung flabby and splotched. His dick was lost in a thick tangle of gray prick hair, but his pendulous balls swung and slapped his thighs as he shuffled about.
“Such a brave boy. Such a brave little boy. You never gave up your friend. Who knows, maybe you really don’t know where Pietro went. Think of it as a test from God. God sometimes hurts us to test us. It’s his way. He is all-loving to be sure, but sometimes he shows his love in strange ways like, for instance, brain tumors and cancer. Remember, little one. Only one of the thieves was saved by Jesus on the cross. He could have saved both so easily. He could have forgiven both thieves and saved them both, but Jesus liked attention and adoration. He saved only the one who believed in him. Here on earth, we could call that cruel, but who can say. I say he should have saved both.
“I hope the leather restraints are not too tight. I need to keep your body still. I’m going to sit on your cute little face and shit in your mouth. It’s the only thing that turns me on any more. My ancient dusty dick is not much use anymore, but I still get a thrill from dropping a turd or two into a young innocent boy’s mouth. Your job is to hold your mouth wide open, and then when I tell you to, chew the shit and swallow it. In anticipation of this special event, I have not washed my ass all week. I did this just for you. If you had been one of the thieves, I would have saved you. Now, open wide.”
Peter Stormer was teaching twelve-year-old Angelo how to suck dick. Peter was also a member of the elite Swiss Guard who served in the Vatican and served the Pope. Peter had been Karl’s friend ever since the two of them were soldiers together. Peter was twenty-nine and a really well built, no nonsense type of guy. He was also appalled at what he had discovered behind the walls of the Vatican. He had been a good Catholic and quite virtuous. To find out that the Catholic Church was a hot bed of sexual perversion destroyed not only his faith in man but also his faith in God.
To see his good friend Karl trapped in a monstrous chastity device which would not allow him to fuck his girlfriend and even worse would not even allow him to masturbate, drove Peter to tears. Peter had a very high sex drive and could only imagine what it would be like to be unable to unload your balls several times a day.
Peter had a wonderful Italian girlfriend who could not keep his big dick out of her mouth and was grateful for that. They fucked almost continually. Peter and his girl would often spend nearly the entire day in bed. She loved to finger his fucker when she was not sucking or licking.
But Peter knew he had to help his best friend, Karl. He also was so disturbed by the child molesting going on in the church that, at this point, he did not object to bringing down the entire institution. Someday he would go public with the things he knew, and chaos would visit the Vatican.
Right now, he had to help Karl with his plan to kill Cardinal Barcola and get the key to unlock the chastity device. And to do that, he had to teach little Angelo how to suck dick. Peter was uncomfortable about the whole thing. He was not gay and had not even ever fooled around with boys at school other than a bit of mutual masturbation. Hell, all guys masturbate together. Even he and Karl had masturbated together now and then in the shower after a sweaty workout. They even reached over and pumped each other’s dicks because it felt better than doing your own. Shit, you could close your eyes and pretend it was a bitch jerking you—but nothing gay. However, he had to do this to help Karl. He had to turn innocent little Angelo into an outstanding dick sucker to fool the Cardinal. Peter had to summon up all his knowledge of when his girlfriend sucked him.
“When you’re sucking dick, keep your eyes one of two places, either on the dick and balls you are sucking or on the face of the person you are sucking. Don’t let your eyes or your mind wander. I always tell my girlfriend that the cock has to be the most important thing in the world to her. Focus entirely on my dick.”
The little boy wanted to please Karl most of all, who was seated on the bed next to Peter, nodded his head solemnly and looked intently at the nine-inch hunk of fuckmeat.
“I have a very good looking cock. The Cardinal’s prick may be wrinkled and ugly and smell bad, but you must not let that alter your goal. Your job is to give him a perfect blowjob. You have a very sweet face, Angelo. If I were a faggot, I would really go for you. Now, first, lean in and just smell the dick and balls. A man likes to have his dick and balls smelled. He gets off on it. If Karl didn’t have that damn plastic and steel cage on his dick, you could smell his too. Don’t be shy, Angelo, get your face right in there and smell. My girlfriend smells my dick all the time.”
The twelve-year-old boy leaned in and inhaled. The smell of ripe man cock made him dizzy. He looked up at the handsome soldier. His eyes were large and liquid looking. Beautiful.
“My sister made me fuck her. I didn’t like it.”
“Don’t think about the cunt right now. Just enjoy the smell of my dick. The Cardinal’s dick may not smell as nice, but you need to pretend it does. You want to help Karl, don’t you?”
“I would do anything for Karl,” the boy said.
“I think he should be naked when he sucks you. That’s how he’ll have to be for the Cardinal,” Karl observed.
“That’s a good point. Why not slip out of your clothes, Angelo. Then I will teach you how to kiss a dick.”
Bishop Manzini, Father Francesco, and Father Paul were on their way to Munich. Once again, they were in a rented car. Manzini drove. The two younger priests sat in the back so Father Francesco could masturbate Father Paul.
“My dick is getting quite sore from all this handwork,” Father Paul said, using a tissue to sop up the dick leak.”
“I know, but if we can get you to a good solid ten inches, our search is over,” Manzini said from the front seat.
“I can teach you all of that,” Father Francesco said, studying the huge dick he was pumping. ”First, we need to get you to a reliable ten. The cock certainly looks thicker since we started.”
“Maybe, if you sucked on it for a while again…”
“I’ll give it a try.”
Father Francesco lowered his head and began to lick the cock slime off the massive shaft.
“But you mustn’t cum, Father Paul. We need to build the tension in your big balls so that the dick grows to its maximum length.” Father Francesco scooped up the cock slime onto his tongue and swallowed. “To be honest, I don’t know how an eight-year-old could ever even take this. I can barely get the head in my mouth.”
“The boys at the seminary learn how to take it down the throat and up the ass, but it takes weeks of slow work.” Father Paul said. “I actually put the boys on an ass stretching regime. And these are boys of sixteen, seventeen and eighteen, some of whom have been ass fucked since they were twelve or thirteen. And they still often pass out from the pain.”
“That’s exactly the kind of fucker the Holy Father is looking for,” Manzini observed, lighting a cigarette.
“Yes, but I only want to make love, not hurt anyone. I can’t help it that God gave me such a big dick.”
Father Francesco pulled his mouth off the pulsing cockhead.
“This must be the kind of dick Jesus had. I heard that sometimes he fucked all twelve disciples in one night. How many seminary boys have you fucked in a single night?”
Father Paul blushed.
“Not more than four. That’s my limit. After fucking four tight teenage asses, my dick went limp.”
Bishop Manzini let his mind wander, and he shut out the sounds of Francesco hungrily slurping Father Paul’s dickhead. He began to think ahead. They were going to visit the notorious Father Dorfman in Munich. Father Dorfman was something of a radical in the church, but not a new radical. He was an old-fashioned conservative albeit one with extreme ideas. Some called him, “The Nazi Priest.” Father Dorfman did have, however, access to some potential candidates. The sounds of the cock slurping in the back seat grew more frantic.
“If Father Paul shoots his load, I swear to God, I’ll see to it you are excommunicated.”
“Bishop, I am only trying to stretch the dick,” Francesco replied, his mouth thick with pre-fuck and his lips coated with cock slime.
“My dick has never been so swollen!” Father Paul moaned.
“Well, let’s measure it again.”
Handsome Father Francesco loved measuring Father Paul’s dick.
“Just rest the dick head on your tongue, Angelo,” Peter Stormer said to the little boy who was naked and on his knees between the soldier’s legs. “I’m going to bounce it a little on your tongue, so you get the taste of some dick leak. You need to learn how to enjoy the taste of dick leak.”
“Yes, Cardinal Barcola sometimes collects the pre-fuck from fifteen or twenty boys in a silver chalice and then picks one boy to drink it all down. He has the sickest mind I ever encountered. I blush to say it, Peter, but do you know he actually makes me lick his ass.”
Peter turned his head in horror.
“Then perhaps we’d better teach little Angelo here how to eat ass as well.”
“It somehow doesn’t seem right to teach a little boy how to suck a man’s ass. I feel so guilty.”
Karl frowned as Peter stroked young Angelo’s head. Angelo was licking the dick stalk up and down.
“It was your idea, Karl, It’s your only hope. We need to make this plan work. Angelo, lick my balls for a while. Make sure to lick the whole sack and to lift the nuts on your tongue. It’s your call, Karl, but I say we have to go for it.”
“I suppose the Cardinal might ask Angel to lick his ass. We’d better teach him how.”
“He can lick your ass. You can take out the butt plug the Cardinal makes you wear, and we can teach Angelo how to suck ass on both our asses. It’ll teach him that different asses taste differently, especially depending on what the person has been eating. I can’t get my girlfriend to suck my ass. She says it’s a sin. She will suck on my dick all day, but she does not want to eat out my asshole. So teaching little Angelo here will be a pleasure. Does Gina eat your ass, Karl?”
“No. I don’t think bitches enjoy eating ass. Angelo’s lapping your balls pretty enthusiastically. He might be a damned good ass licker—and only twelve years old.”
Peter scooted down to the edge of the bed, revealing his moist, dark asshole.
“Lick down under my balls, Angelo, toward my asshole.”
Karl sighed. In a few days, if things went according to plan, he might be able to get rid of the fucking cage and once again be free to fuck. His penis lurched in the cage and the sharp tacks on the lining of the restraint bit into his dick flesh.
And what of twelve-year-old runaway Pietro? He sold the leather bag he had stolen along with its contents, and he now had over a hundred dollars. (Euro currency, of course) He could now afford a room for a week and some new clothes. His hopes were high. Little did he know that a party of elite Vatican security guards was searching the city for him and had circulated his photo to sources all over Rome.
“Holy fuck, Karl, I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything this good,” Peter Stormer said as he squatted and bounced on the face of little twelve-year-old Angelo. His big sloppy balls slapped the boy on the neck as he twisted his hips to grind his ass down harder on the child’s mouth.
“I had no idea that an ass suck was so amazing. You have got to try this!”
The boy beneath the Swiss Guardsman twitched and stiffened.
“I don’t think he can breathe,” Karl said, observing his friend seated on the boy’s mouth.
“Huh? Oh, yeah!”
Karl had been so busy masturbating his swollen leaking dick that the child had ceased to become anything except a tongue up his ass. He rolled off the boy to one side, and little Angelo, his face slick with spit and ass juice, gasped for breath.
“I’m going to need to get my ass sucked every day from now on, and I know my girlfriend won’t do it,” Peter said, stretching his tall, muscular body out on the bed, his beer can thick dick pulsing and dripping. He reached up to scratch one sweaty wet armpit.
“You know those fancy red and gold chairs that many of the priests sit on at the Vatican for ceremonies and so on. Some of them have box-like compartments under the seat so a naked little boy can sit down there and lick the priest’s asshole during public occasions. The boys who excel at ass licking are called ‘Assfaces.’ ”
“I can’t believe those fucking priests are so corrupt. They should all be blown to hell. You’ve got to try having this little bitch suck your ass.”
Karl Lundquist smiled down at little Angelo.
“With this fucking cock cage on, if he sucks my ass, my dick will want to erect, and that will be fucking painful.”
“Just try it a little to feel what his tongue feels like up your shithole.”
Young beautiful Angelo turned his head to look at his idol, Karl Lundquist.
“Please, not now. I’m so tired. My mouth is very sore from sucking Mr. Stormer’s cock and ass. My jaw hurts. Let me rest.”
“I understand how you feel, Angelo, but the Cardinal may be very demanding, and if you’re going to divert him enough to allow me to kill him, you may have to suck his ass as well as his dick. Just let me sit down on your face for a few moments, and you tongue my shithole the best you can. Let me see how good you are.”
The little boy stared at Karl’s fat dick locked in the chastity device. He was in love with the solider.
“But I don’t want to hurt you, Karl.”
“Don’t worry about that. I just want to see how talented your tongue is. Just stick it as far as you can up my asshole and wiggle it, and at the same time use your lips to suck on my asshole rim.”
“Does my sister, Gina, do this for you?”
The sweet boy looked very, very tired. Karl reached out to stroke the forehead of the pretty boy.
“No, your sister won’t suck my ass. So this is something special between you and me.”
“When this is over, if I do a good job, will you let me always suck your ass?”
Karl Lundquist winked and grinned.
“I promise. Even when I’m out of this cage and fucking Gina, I’ll still find time for you to suck my ass. It will be our little secret.”
“And you can suck my ass too,” Peter offered while masturbating his big dick.
Karl threw one foot on either side of Angelo’s head and lowered himself on the boy’s face.
“The next step is to get this little bitch into the Vatican.”
Fathers Francesco, Bishop Manzini, and Paul approached the oddly decorated ornate door to Father Dorfman’s residence in Munich.
“This place looks ominous, like the enchanted cottage of some witch.”
“Well, let’s hope this witch can give us a ten-inch dick on a young priest.”
The Bishop rapped with the heavy brass doorknocker. The sound filled the empty street. Somewhere a cat mewled. Then the sound of heavy clumping on the stairs, and the door opened. They were greeted by in what less politically correct times would be described as a pig of a man. Today, we might be forced to describe him as “stout” or “large,” but he was a pig. Father Dorfman was fifty-six years old but looked older. He had a round snout of a nose and beady little eyes. The goatee did nothing to hide the paunch of his cheeks and chin. He was dressed in a loose white terrycloth robe with a cross embroidery on it and flip-flops. His thick legs were short, and his fat feet were stubby. His eyes darted from one to the other of the three men standing on his stoop. When he spoke, it was with a thick German accent.
“Are you here for the meeting?” His eyes only glanced at Bishop Manzini but lingered a long time on Father Francesco and especially Father Paul. “We’re out on the patio in back. Who sent you?”
Bishop Manzini raised one hand.
“We don’t know anything about a meeting. You’re Father Dorfman?”
“I am. And by your clothing, I see you’re of the church, but you’re not here for the meeting?”
“I telephoned you from Warsaw. We’re here from the Vatican on a matter of some importance.”
“Are they going to punish me again, threaten to kick me out? I don’t give a shit. Those old perverts can threaten anything they want. They can’t even get their pricks up anymore. I know the Church. I know God. I have nothing to fear.”
“You have nothing to fear, Father Dorfman. We come here to seek your help. You’re highly respected by many within the church for your strict, conservative, old-fashioned views. We’re here on a mission from the Pope himself. We need your help to find a very special priest, one with unusual physical characteristics.”
“Come in, come in, you are welcome. Perhaps you’ll be interested in our monthly meeting of like-minded priests. You may learn something, and then perhaps, after dinner tonight, we can discuss your needs.”
The fat priest in the white robe led the way through the narrow but deep house. The walls were filled with paintings and prints of Jesus suffering. These were by far the most grotesque religious images Bishop Manzini had ever seen. In the lifelike paintings, Christ was often naked. In one, he was not only nailed to the cross, but a large spike pierced his thick dangling penis. In another, heavy weights hung from Christ’s large stretched scrotum. There was one painting of Christ getting lashed by a Roman soldier. There was blood everywhere, running in rivers down the Lord’s body. While he was being whipped, another soldier had his swollen dick inserted in Jesus’ mouth. On closer inspection, Bishop Manzini could see that mixed in with the blood on the Lord’s face were loads of human semen. In the background, twenty or so soldiers stood masturbating.
“I’d like to get prints of some of these paintings for my father. He would love them,” Francesco said.
“You like them, yeah? I had them specially painted by a friend of mine.”
Father Paul’s eyes almost popped out of his young head at the sight of Jesus suffering naked while a soldier shoved a thick pointed stick up the urethra of his penis.
“These are amazing,” said the young priest, adjusting the huge prick in his pants.
“Come on, come on, this way,” the pig man said leading the way through the house to a patio in the rear.
The patio was closed off from the rest of the world by a high wall. Seven men of various ages were seated or standing around sipping cocktails. Some were dressed in casual shirts, trousers, and jackets while some were in robes, and some were totally naked. The naked men seemed very well hung with thick German dicks.
“I hope you don’t mind our casual attire. Many of us are nudists. We believe in letting the body and mind breath. If you are from the Vatican, then I know you are drinkers. What will it be, a martini, a whiskey, a good German beer?”
The three visiting priests all agreed that they should try the beer. Dorfman introduced them all around, and all the men gathered there turned out to be priests. They were a hearty, cheerful lot from all over Germany. The naked ones casually played with their dicks and balls while chatting. Father Dorfman shed his robe to reveal a fat round pig-like body to go with his pig-like face. The conversation was most unusual. It was indeed a meeting of sorts, but a very casual one. Father Dorfman lectured the others on Catholic history.
“The Catholic Church had a very close and understanding relationship with the Nazi Party. Many priests helped the Nazis corral the Jew pigs. Of course, some betrayed Christianity and hid Jews in the sacred confines of the church. Those priests are roasting in hell. Our guests from the Vatican may know that in Italy, the Pope would look down from his balcony and watch the rounding up of the Jews. He watched them shipped off to the camps for extermination and never said a word. He was a smart man. He knew where political strength lay. He also knew that as Christians that it’s our duty to rid the world of unbelievers. And after the war, the church in Rome helped over one hundred and fifty top Nazi leaders escape capture. The church hid them in Rome, forged false documents for them, and shipped them off to Latin America and the Middle East. So the bond is very close between our beloved Nazi Party and the Catholic Church. This brings us to today’s festivities, yeah?”
Father Dorfman had an ugly sadistic laugh. Everyone settled into chairs, and a young priest in full black cassock appeared.
“Is the fucking Jew here?”
“He is waiting, sir.”
Father Dorfman took a slug of beer from his mug and waived his hand. A small middle-aged man and a gorgeous boy were ushered into the room. Both were obviously Jewish. They had the traditional dark look of many European Jews. The man wore traditional Jewish garb. He had a black beard and dark, distrustful eyes. The boy, who, as I say, was very beautiful and about fourteen, looked terrified.
“This is Moses Finkel and his son Jacob. They defile my Christian home by even being here, but that can’t be helped. Moses needs to be punished, don’t you, Moses?”
“Please, Father Dorfman, allow my son to go home. He is innocent. Do not punish my son for my mistakes.”
“Ah, yes, but sometimes the best way to the father is through the son.”
Father and son looked at each other, and a tear formed in the man’s eye. His son made his hands into fists and tried to be brave.
“It was our misfortune that all the Jews were not exterminated during the war. They have since grown powerful, rich, and arrogant once more. They are the Lord’s enemy. They are responsible for the torture of Jesus. They are the scum of the earth. Still, from time to time, we’re forced not only to get along with them but also to work with them. Moses Finkel and I had a deal. He was to provide certain illegal immigrants, youngsters mostly, for our religious purposes.”
Moses’ eyes flashed, showing that he knew what these purposes were. Bishop Manzini and his friends could only guess.
“I put forth a considerable amount of money for five Jew children. Moses Finkel betrayed me. I never received the children but did receive a visit from the police. Fortunately, the Church has friends in high places. Now, Moses must be punished. Jew shit, will you and your son strip off your clothing and stand naked before us?”
“Not my son, please. Punish me, but not my son. He is innocent. He is a good boy, a good student. I could not turn those children over to you. I just could not. Punish me.”
“Both of you pieces of shit strip naked now! Naked like your father and grandfather did in the camps.”
Moses looked to his son with the most sorrowful look Father Francesco had ever seen.
The boy answered with a mellow, gentle voice, “It’s all right, Father. I’m all right. I want to be here with you.”
There was not a flaccid Catholic prick on the patio as father and son shucked off their clothing and stood naked. The man’s body was thin and pale with tufts of black hair on the chest and under the armpits. The boy’s body was healthy and well formed. He was most beddable. Both father and son had respectable dicks and large scrotums. The boy’s muscular ass was high and round. He appeared to be a soccer player. The boy put his hands in front of his genitals and hung his head in shame. Whether his shame was for himself or for his father was not clear. Father and son shifted nervously from foot to foot.
“Now, I’m not interested in hurting you, but in ensuring your future obedience. I have work for you, Moses, and perhaps for your son too, but you must learn to follow orders. If you follow orders, you and your son will stay alive If not...” Father Dorfman reached beneath a pile of clothing and produced a nine mm automatic pistol. Everyone on the patio grew tense. “…you see I could put a bullet through your son’s head, but if you learn to obey me, that may not be necessary. I asked you for five kike brats. I even offered to pay for them. You did not follow through. You must be punished. To begin with, your son will suck every cock out here on the patio, all eleven of us.” He turned to the boy. “Jew boy, have you ever sucked a dick? I hear Jews suck dick all the time. I hear you’re excellent dick suckers.”
The beautiful boy looked sick to his stomach. The reality of the horror was just dawning on him.
”I’ve never done anything like that.”
“Well, I’m afraid that’s no excuse. If you do not give each of us a first-class cock suck, I will take this gun and blow out your brains. I expect you to lick our cocks all over, lick and suck on our balls, and then suck our dicks until we shoot our loads down your miserable Jew throat or on your face. Then you will suck the dick of your own father. After that, we’ll proceed to ass fucking.”
In the Vatican, Cardinal Barcola was getting a fantastic blowjob from a young Vatican priest. The young man had amazing suck skills. He worked his lips on the root of the big dick as his tongue and throat massaged the fuckmeat. Meanwhile, his hands caressed and rolled the Cardinal’s nuts.
“Ah…yes, Father Paloma was not mistaken. You may be the best cocksucker in the whole Vatican. Oh…that is splendid.” The Cardinal grabbed the young man by the hair and rammed his face into his groin. “Suck my dick. Suck for Jesus. Suck my fucking dick.” The old Priest reached to a table beside his chair. He picked up a large metal cross at least fourteen inches tall. He handed it to the sucking priest. “Keep sucking. Don’t stop, but take this cross and shove the bottom of it up your ass. Fuck your ass with this cross while you suck my dick.”
The dedicated young priest pressed the cold metal to his ass lips and then forced the base of the cross up into his rectum. He let out a grunt.
“Don’t stop sucking, you fucking bitch! You are serving Cardinal Manzini, a man who is perhaps destined to inherit the Papal robes. Think of how proud you’ll be to have sucked the dick of the next Pope. Swallow my dick. Way down your throat. Fuck your ass to the traverse with that cross. I hear you have a little brother. If he is as good looking as you are, I may want to fuck him too. In fact, I may want to watch you fuck him. That would be pleasant, to watch you fuck your own innocent virgin little brother.”
In a small cheap hotel in the center of Rome, twelve-year-old Pietro was lying on the small, simple bed masturbating. He had nothing in the world, but he was free. Free at last. He could plan a life. He could dream. And as he dreamed, he pumped his small pale pretty dick. One hand reached down to cup his young, just fallen nuts. They felt so good in their velvety soft sack. His hand went lower to finger his often-fucked asshole. It seemed to be a bit tighter, a bit more elastic. Perhaps it would heal in time. Perhaps his asshole would begin to look more like a normal boy’s asshole and less like a cunt. His finger rubbed around the still swollen ass lips, and it gave a tingle to his dick. His hand left his asshole and traveled up his naked body to his boy tits. He began to pinch and twist his nipples as he masturbated his prick. Pre-fuck poured out of his pisshole and ran down the stalk of the dick, covering his hand. He was free. Free at last.
Without warning, the door to his room swung open. He had locked it. He had locked it first thing. The manager must have given someone else a key. Pietro grabbed a bed sheet and tried to cover his naked little form. The door swung open to reveal a young man, a very handsome man with a rough unshaven face and the look of a gypsy, in his early to mid-twenties.
“Hi!” the man in the doorway said, leaning on the doorframe, a cocky look on his handsome face. “If you’re jerking off, don’t let me stop you. I’d enjoy watching you beat your meat.”
“Who…who…the hell are you?”
The boy’s voice sounded very young and thin. Fear made him little more than a baby. He was, after all, very young and vulnerable.
“They call me Carlo the Killer!”
“Carlos, the killer?”
Twelve-year-old Pietro huddled naked in the corner of the bed, the sheet up around his pale smooth body.
“No, not Carlos, the killer, Carlos the Killer like Carlos the Jackal. I’m Carlos the Killer.”
The guy standing in the doorway was definitely dangerous looking. He was in his early twenties with a bearded unshaven look and a cocky demeanor. He was small of stature, but the loose way he moved showed he knew how to handle himself. He wore tight jeans and a soft black leather jacket over a white tee shirt.
“Are you going to kill me? Did they send you to kill me?”
The poor little boy was almost pissing himself.
“No, I’ve come to put you to work for me. I’ve been watching you. You’re alone and don’t know where the fuck to go or what to do. I can put you to work for me.”
The boy on the bed relaxed just a bit. He cocked his head to one side and frowned.
“I’m doing okay. I can handle myself.”
The thug in the door laughed and stepped into the room.
“I can see that you can handle yourself. That’s what you were doing when I came in.”
“How did you get a key to my room?”
“I have connections. The manager owes me a thing or two. So relax, kid. Take off the sheet, and let me get a good look at you.”
“Fuck you!” shouted the boy, but his bravado was not sincere.
“Look, bitch, they don’t call me Carlos the Killer for nothing. I don’t want to hurt you, but you got to get used to doing what I say. I am going to put you to work for me, and we are both going to profit.”
“So, you’re a pimp?”
“Sometimes, but that’s not what I got in mind for you. You are built light and fast. I saw you lift that leather shoulder bag. I think you would make a perfect thief. Look, we can both make out from this like I said. You can make money, and I can protect you. I can set up scores for you. We can be a perfect team. What do you say?”
The pretty boy in the bed chewed his lip for a moment.
“You’re in? You want to work for Carlos the Killer?”
“Yeah, I guess. Okay. You’ll probably kill me if I don’t say yes.”
“Good man. You won’t regret this, I promise.”
Carlos slid out of his jacket and tossed it on a chair. Then he peeled off his tee shirt. His body was slender but nicely toned. He began to unbuckle his wide leather belt. Pietro frowned again.
“What are you doing?”
“I need a place to crash. I haven’t slept for almost two days. And besides, I want to fuck you.”
In Munich, Germany, our three traveling priests were appalled at the sight before them. A naked teenage Jewish boy was being made to crawl around on the patio and suck the dicks of the eight other priests present. Father Dorfman held a gun pointed toward the boy’s naked and trembling father. Dorfman obviously loved his work.
“You can suck better than that, Jew bitch! Lick those balls. Lick down under the nuts. Crawl over to Father Meuller and kiss his fucksacks. Crawl, you fucking Jew piece of shit!”
The priests moved into a tight circle around the beautiful naked boy. His mouth went from dick to dick. Pre-fuck slime covered his face. When he was not sucking on a dick, it leaked and dripped all over his face. The boy’s father wailed and prayed out loud to his God.
“Ha! Your pagan God can’t hear you. This is a place of the Christian God.” Father Dorfman turned to his new guests. “You want to join in? Strip down. Relax. I know about all the cocksucking that goes on at the Vatican. How about trying it German style?”
The three priests looked at each other.
“Thank you, but we’ll just watch.”
Father Dorfman snorted in a derogatory way.
“If you want to talk to me later, I really need to feel that you don’t disapprove of our activities. I need to feel comfortable that you’re not here to spy on me. So I would suggest that at least one of you join our little game.”
Bishop Manzini had to consider the demands. He might need Father Dorfman’s help.
“Father Paul,” he snapped, “strip down and get your dick sucked.”
“But what about our measuring,” Father Francesco warned. “We were making real progress.”
“We need to feel secure that the dick is a good solid ten inches each time he fucks or is sucked.
“Go on, Father Paul, undress.”
The eight priests getting sucked turned their heads to look at the handsome newcomer taking off his clothes. Father Paul was a real head turner, no doubt about it. He was soon naked, and with his huge fucker swinging half hard, he stepped into the suck circle. Dorfman grabbed the cute Jewish boy by his dark hair and yanked.
“Suck our guest.”
The poor boy had never sucked a dick in his life before this day. His eyes were red from tears, and drool dripped from his lips. His young body trembled with fear and anxiety.
“He is not a very good dick sucker,” one of the priests remarked, kicking the boy with his naked foot.
“These Jews are not good for anything,” Dorfman said swinging the gun at the boy’s father. ”Do a better job, Jew hole!”
The teenage boy slurped harder. He took as much of Father Paul’s growing dick in his mouth as he could. The boy’s breathing was labored and ragged. His tight, flat tummy fluttered. Spit and dick slop ran from his chin. The priests standing around laughed and chatted. Someone dragged the kid away from Father’s Paul’s prick.
“Look at the fuckmeat on the young priest,” one of the other priests commented.
“Hey, you want to see something funny?” Dorfman asked. He grabbed the Jew boy by the hair and threw him to the floor. “Crawl on over and suck on your father’s dick.”
The naked man wailed.
“No, please. I beg you, not that! Please…for the love of God, not that!”
The boy was shaking so badly, he could hardly crawl. One of the priests helped him out with a kick to the naked ass. The boy crawled over to his wailing father. Snot ran from his nose. He was a very cute teenage Jew.
“I’m sorry, Papa. I’m sorry!” the boy cried.
“Lift your head and lick your father’s dick and balls. Move your hands, Jew slime.”
The sobbing man moved his hands so that his son could lick his shriveled prick and sagging nuts.
“Papa, I’m sorry—”
“Shut the fuck up and lick!” Dorfman barked, pouring another beer for himself.
The boy cried again as he extended his tongue to lick his own father’s scrotum. The priests stood there drinking, masturbating and chatting as they watched the cute teenager lick his own father.
“That can’t be much fun for him. I bet he misses our nice long foreskins,” one priest said, and they all roared with laughter.
“Is that right, Jew bitch, do you miss our nice long thick foreskins? Don’t worry. You can get back to them soon. You can suck out all of our cum, and then we’ll take turns fucking your teenage Jew ass.”
The boy was now sucking on his father’s dick, and the cock was thickening a bit and growing longer. The adult Jew was praying in Hebrew.
“Look at that. The Jew’s dick is getting hard. He likes his son sucking on him.”
Dorfman ordered the Jewish man to put one foot up on a chair so that his balls dangled more and his lower region was spread open.
“Okay, Jew bitch, crawl around back and suck on your father’s asshole.”
The Jew’s eyes opened wide.
“You can’t ask my son to do such a thing. This is an abomination. You cannot ask it!”
“Fucking Jew shit, I’m not asking. I’m ordering.
“Suck your father’s ass now, or I swear I will put a bullet in your knee!”
To watch any cute teenage boy lick and suck on his own father’s asshole is an erotic sight, but to watch two Jews forced to do it was somehow even more exotic. Even Bishop Manzini felt his fuckmeat erect in his trousers.
“Can he suck our asses too?” the bishop inquired.
“Of course, my friends, it’s our job to keep the heathens in their place. We must teach them to serve Christians. He will suck all of our asses. We will take turns sitting on his cute teenage face and force his big Jew nose up our assholes. We will take turns farting into his face. The day is still young. Heat up the grill, and let’s party. Suck, shitface, suck your father’s asshole. Get your face deep into your father’s ass!”
Karl Lundquist was seated in an armchair. His dick cage lay on the table next to the chair. Cardinal Barcola sat on a hassock between the soldier’s legs. With one hand, he gently masturbated the Guardsman’s fat drooling cock.
“Easy now, easy, we want to keep you right on the edge without cumming. Look at that dick drip. Let it leak into the silver bowl at your feet. I can feed the cock slop to one of the little choirboys. I believe your dick has grown larger since we started these exercises. Look how big and angry it looks. Such a beautiful fucker.”
“Please, Cardinal. I can’t stand it anymore. I need to cum so badly. This is torture. I’m going out of my mind with the need to cum!”
The handsome soldier twisted his muscular body in the chair.
“You need to learn discipline. You’re doing very well. That fucking slut of a girlfriend isn’t getting any of your cock, is she? Ha! Not with the cock cage on you. I’ll bet you anything she is sucking and fucking other dicks. A bitch like her needs dick every day. I know cunts. They’re all the same. But you’re saving your sperm for Jesus. You’re saving your fuck for God. How noble you are.”
He pumped the dick again, and the soldier moaned in agony.
“Cardinal Barcola, speaking of my girlfriend, what about her brother, do you want him? He is ripe for fucking. Only twelve years old. If I get him for you, will you let me cum?”
The Cardinal smiled.
“You will get him for me because I order it. I do not make deals with Swiss Guards. You will bring the boy to me. Then I shall decide if we can deduct some time from your celibacy. Bring the boy to me tonight. I will disable the cameras in my room so that we have privacy. If the boy’s ass and mouth are as sweet as you say, I may allow you some relief. I might even be moved to milk your dick and empty your big fat balls. Look how fat and full those balls are. It’s time to put your cage back on, isn’t it? I expect you and the little boy at eight tonight. Father Cruz will open the side door at seven forty-five. The guards will be conveniently absent. No one will see you bringing the boy up. Who knows, if I like him, he might have to disappear, so not a word to anyone, including your fucking cunt of a girlfriend.”
“One thing, Cardinal, the boy is very, very scared.”
The clergyman laughed, spraying spit from his mouth.
“Nothing to worry about. I love it when the little boys are scared shitless!”
Karl Lundquist was more determined than ever to murder Cardinal Barcola.
Fourteen-year-old Jacob Finkel, naked as the day he was born, was sobbing uncontrollably as he ate out his father’s ass. Eleven Catholic priests stood there watching the boy work.
“Come on, you fucking Jewish piece of shit, you can suck ass better than that!”
Father Dorfman took a wide leather belt off of the trousers of one of his friends and smacked the boy on the ass with it. Cocks were spraying pre-fuck everywhere. Some of it was landing in the mugs of beer standing about, but that didn’t stop the priests from chugging the cock slopped laced brew.
Bishop Manzini had heard of “Jew Baiting,” but he had never seen it in action. He was not at all anti-Semitic, and he was appalled by the scene at this party in Munich.
“Please for the love of God, do anything you want to me, but allow my son to go free. He did nothing wrong and is innocent.”
Father Dorfman grabbed the teenage boy by the nape of his neck and threw him onto the concrete patio. Father Paul had been forced to strip and participate in the sadistic events. He stood there with a shocked look on his face and his huge swollen prick in his hands.
“The sins of the father, Moses. The sins of the father shall be visited upon the children.” He turned to one of his furiously masturbating friends. “Father Max, fetch the wooden cross and the hammer and nails.”
“What in God’s name are you going to do?” Manzini asked, stepping forward.
“Don’t worry. We’re not going to crucify him. The big cross is stored in a warehouse, and we’ve not had it out in some time. No, no, this is just a small cross, just a board with a crosspiece. And the nails, the nails are not the large spikes we use for special occasions. No, no, these are just small everyday nails.”
While he spoke, he repeatedly kicked the naked boy with his bare foot. His foot connected with the boy’s beautiful tear-stained face, and with the child’s stomach and now and again with his genitals. The teenager curled up into a little ball to avoid the kicks, and Father Dorfman brought the thick belt down on his shoulders and back.
“Don’t do that, you fucking heathen. If I want to kick you, I will kick you. On your back now and spread your legs.”
The boy didn’t respond quickly enough and received another lash of the belt on his shoulders. He rolled over onto his back, screaming for mercy and spread his slender, strong teen legs. Father Dorfman rewarded the boy with a vicious kick right to his scrotum.
“Oh, my God, stop this. Stop this abomination at once!”
Moses Finkel charged across the patio, foam flecking his lips, eyes wild, hands rolled up into balls. Father Dorfman calmly raised the automatic pistol had and pointed it at the Jew.
“One more step and I blow out your kneecap. Do you know how painful that is?”
Moses wailed and fell to his knees, hands clasped together in supplication.
“Not my son. Not my son!”
“Do you suppose this is how your father felt in the camps? Do you think perhaps this is why you were saved because your daddy prayed for you?”
Dorfman laughed as he spit into Moses’ face. Father Francesco shut his eyes in horror. Isn’t it strange how people justify and qualify their own sins? To fuck unwilling little choirboys and altar boys was perfectly acceptable, but to torture a Jew was not. Odd how the mind works.
Father Max brought out a two by four about two feet long with a small crosspiece nailed near the top. It resembled a cross only slightly. He also carried a hammer and nails. Two of the priests dragged the naked Jew boy onto his feet and over to a patio table.
“Wait a minute. Let’s see if our grill is hot enough yet to cook our bratwurst.”
Father Dorfman took the long grill tongs off of the burning coals and brought it over to young Jacob Finkel. He ordered one of his friends to lift one of the boy’s legs. Then he placed the red-hot end of the tongs right on the sole of the boy’s foot. The boy’s screams filled the late afternoon sky.
“Somebody, turn the music up!” Dorfman hollered to his cohorts. A moment later German beer hall songs filled the outdoor area. “We don’t want complaints from our neighbors. Let’s see what kind of mark these tongs leave on the inside of his soft young thigh.”
The boy’s next scream sent Moses Finkel into another rage. He climbed to his feet and attacked Dorfman. Father Max, who had been given control of the gun while Father Dorfman handled grilling, turned and without hesitation, pulled the trigger. Bishop Manzini put his hands to his ears as the gun barked. Moses Finkel’s leg collapsed underneath him, his right kneecap shattered. Father Dorfman roared with laughter.
“Father,” handsome young Jacob bellowed and tried to break free of his captors.
“Father, forgive us, for we know not what we do!” Dorfman declared as he touched the red-hot tongs to the boy’s left ass cheek.
The fourteen-year-old threw himself in a paroxysm of pain. The other priests held on tight. One of them began slapping the kid’s face.
“You know, Father Dorfman, I think this child would suck dick better if his teeth didn’t get in the way. Perhaps we should pull a few.”
“Good idea, Father Becker. Did you bring your handy pliers?”
“Right over here in my cassock. I always keep them handy.”
Father Dorfman took the teen’s beautiful face in his hands.
“Now, you listen to me, Jew cunt! I want you to hold still and open your mouth wide. If you jerk around or close your mouth, we will shoot your father in the other knee. Do you understand?”
The terrified child nodded his head in horror. His father lay on the cement curled up and jabbering in Hebrew. Some of the priests gathered began spitting on him.
“I’m sorry we don’t have any anesthetic, young man,” Father Becker smiled sadistically. “You just keep your mouth open like a good boy while I get rid of some of these teeth that prevent you from giving a really first-rate suck job. You’ll be sucking much better once we get rid of them.
“Meanwhile, Father Dorfman, why not reheat the tongs, I fear it’s getting cool.”
Cardinal Barcola was getting a really hot blowjob from a young naked Vatican secretary. The young man really knew how to lick a scrotum.
“Beautiful, beautiful, my son. God bless you. You have been given this talent by Jesus. You are the best ball sucker I have ever encountered. What is your secret, I wonder. Oh...that is superb. Yes, yes, down under the fuck sack. That is heaven. I am sure heaven is filled with young scrotum lickers. I have been asked to conduct a special mass this Sunday. I always like to have a naked young man installed in the pulpit to lick my scrotum during the homily. It inspires me. You will be honored to know, I have chosen you, Charles.”
“Thank you, Monseigneur.”
“Now, if only your secretarial skills were as good as your cocksucking and ball licking, but that has been the plight of private secretaries since time began I fear. Everyone knows they’re hired for their sexual skills, not their secretarial prowess. Lick down closer to the asshole.”
Cardinal Barcola reached over to a side table and took a stack of papers off it, which were the reports on possible candidates for the Pope’s Easter Celebration Project. Where were Manzini and Francesco now? Oh yes, Munich, with Father Dorfman. Cardinal Barcola had no time for the brutish uncouth ways of Father Dorfman. The German priest had once invited Barcola to a Teenage Castration Party. There was absolutely nothing creative or artistic about it, just a lot of slashing with knives. That was not what Barcola called a good time. The only touch of artistry at all in the whole affair had been forcing the teenage boys to suck on each other’s severed cocks. Since that time, Barcola had steered clear of the controversial Nazi priest. In fact, Barcola steered clear of Germany. It held no charm for him.
He raised one naked foot and placed it on the shoulder of the licking secretary. He gently but forcefully pushed the young man down onto the marble floor. The secretary switched his licking from Cardinal Barcola’s scrotum to his foot.
“You devil you, you know my feet are ticklish!”
Barcola laughed and fucked his big toe in and out of the young man’s mouth. He sorely wished Manzini and Francesco would get out of Germany and get on with their search someplace else. He was sure Dorfman would be of no help to them.
Carlos the Killer was lying on his back in bed, smoking a cigarette. Next to him, twelve-year-old Pietro was watching him.
“Why did you have to fuck me so hard?” the little boy asked. “You hurt me.”
“Sorry, but I fuck hard. It feels good that way. Your little ass will get used to it. Besides, you’ve been fucked lots of times. I didn’t even stretch your rectum none.”
“No, the priests did that. I thought you would fuck me romantically. You kissed me so nicely and everything. And then you just pounded my ass like an animal.”
“Ha! Maybe they should call me Carlos the Animal!” He took a long drag on his cigarette. He was a handsome brute. “You want a tattoo? Maybe I’ll get you a tattoo!”
The little boy’s face lit up. He turned his thin naked body to face Carlos.
“A tiger! I want a tiger on my shoulder.”
“How about instead, the words ‘FUCKHOLE’ tattooed on your ass cheeks,” the young man roared with laughter, “or, maybe, ‘COCKSUCKER’ on your forehead with an arrow going down your nose to your mouth.”
Pietro kicked out with one naked twelve-year-old foot, and it snapped against Carlos’ thigh.
“You’re only going to hurt your foot. You loved me fucking you, and you know it. I could see it in your eyes. Your hungry little boy-cunt gobbled up my dick. You’re a natural. No wonder those fucking perverted priests picked you. You’re a born boy cunt!”
“When I get older, I’m going to fuck girls. Just you wait and see.”
“Ha, I won’t hold my breath. Here, you want a cigarette?”
The attractive thug in his early twenties and the twelve-year-old boy lay side by side naked on the bed smoking cigarettes.
“You’ll make lots of money working for me. You can get an iPhone, a Gameboy, you name it, whatever you want.” His hand reached over and began to fondle the little twelve-year-old dick and balls. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll protect you from the world.” He gently masturbated the child’s dick.
“Yes, but who will protect me from you?” Pietro replied, a wicked gleam in his eyes.
Carlos laughed again.
“Maybe they should call me, Carlos the Cock! Roll over and spread your cheeks. I want to fuck you doggie-style this time.”
Pietro made a familiar Italian gesture, fingertips together, shaking his hands.
“Has a twelve-year-old boy’s poor battered ass ever been fucked so much?”
“Are you kidding? Most twelve-year-old boys, if they are cute, get ass fucked two or three times every day, at least the street boys that I know.”
Carlos’ dick was thick with fuck need. He lined the fat cockhead up against the boy’s pink swollen ass pucker.
“Can’t you at least use some lube? Even the priests—some of them—used lube. Except for Cardinal Barcola, he’s a son of a bitch.”
“I’ll use some spit, okay, so stop complaining. Just enjoy it. You have to admit I have a beautiful dick, obviously not as large as some of the Catholic cock is that opened you up at the Vatican but beautiful nonetheless. And I know how to fuck. I know how to reach every single corner of the inner boy ass. I can make any boy squirm with pain and pleasure.”
“If you cared about me at all, you would let my poor battered asshole rest.”
Pietro winced as the spit-covered dickhead worked its way into his twelve-year-old rectum. His small toes curled with the pain.
“I do care about you. Haven’t I proved that already? But I have needs too. I have fuck needs. And you have the cutest twelve-year-old ass I have ever seen. I’m in love with your ass.”
“If you loved the rest of me, you’d be more gentle.”
“Loving the rest of you may come in time. Right now, it’s your ass I love. Spread your legs wider. Jerk your dick while I fuck you, you’ll enjoy it more.”
Carlos snapped his hips so that his fat fuckmeat plunged deeper into the twelve-year-old boy ass beneath him.
“Oh yeah, you have an ass from heaven.”
Father Becker had finished pulling Jacob’s teeth. It was a messy, bloody affair. Eight of the boy’s teeth lay in an ashtray. The boy had passed out three times from the pain, and each time, they had awakened him by pissing on his face. His father was unconscious on the floor, passed out from his own pain. Someone had wrapped a towel around his knee to stop the bleeding. Now, they held teenage Jacob with his fourteen-year-old dick and balls resting on the base of the wooden cross. They placed the wide-headed nails on his balls sack and began to hammer the boy’s scrotum to the board. Bishop Manzini had to look away, but Francesco and Paul were mesmerized. The Jew teen threw his healthy young body this way and that, held down by the hands of the torturing priest. Some of them leaned in and spit on the kid’s face to increase his agony. Nail after nail was driven into the soft scrotum skin.
“This fucking kike doesn’t even have any hair on his nuts yet!”
Father Dorfman laughed as he pounded another nail through the ball sack flesh. The boy’s mouth was already bloody from his teeth being pulled, but now blood dripped from his chin and ran down his chest in tiny rivers.
“Now, let’s put some nails through the dick!”
“Just nail the dick skin first. Then when the cock is firmly nailed in place, we can drive some nails through the actual dick muscle itself! We’ll make sure he doesn’t fuck any more Jew children into this world!”
They took turns pounding more and more nails into the poor teenage boy’s mutilated genitals. Bishop Manzini decided it was time to leave this hellhole.
“Paul, get your clothes. We’re leaving.”
But Dorfman stopped them.
“Just where do you think you are going? I told you already. You must participate. It ensures your silence. I’m afraid you can’t leave until you join us. Besides we have not had our little chat.”
“I don’t wish to participate in this behavior,” Manzini said, drawing himself up to his full height.
“What you wish and what is are two different things. We can’t have you blabbing about what you saw here today. The only way to keep you quiet is if you yourself drive a nail into this boy’s dick! Come on. Pound a nail right through his dickhead,” the fat German priest retorted.
One of the priests was working a nail into the palm of the Jewish boy’s right hand.
Father Dorfman handed Bishop Manzini the hammer.
“We will be leaving now, Father Dorfman,” Bishop Manzini said, dropping the hammer and nodding to Father Paul to cover his naked body. Dorfman, his hands covered in the blood of the Jewish boy, stood blocking their way.
“Give me the gun,” Dorfman barked to Father Max, who had just finished forcing a thick nail through the right nipple of the teenage Jew.
The boy was beyond screaming. He made a kind of choking rattle each time some new pain was visited upon him. Father Francesco and the others heard a snap as one of the priests broke a finger on the fourteen-year-old victim.
“So you’re going to shoot us? You’re going to shoot a Bishop of the Vatican. You know Cardinal Barcola knows we’re here. This won’t go down well.”
Fat Father Dorfman, his huge swollen belly coated with sweat and his short stubby dick standing out stiff and hard and leaking, squinted at the men from Rome.
“What kind of priests are you anyway that you can’t enjoy a little fun with a fucking Jew? Where are your standards and ethics? As good Catholics, that should have been fucked out of you when you were altar boys. What, are you part of the new strain of Catholics who once again believe that good can come out of all of this?”
Father Paul had quickly dressed and was tying his shoes. The standoff continued. Max had slid the automatic into Dorfman’s hand. “SNAP” Another of the boy’s fingers went. Dorfman glanced over.
“Shiest, I am missing all of the fun! Save some fingers for me. You mean to tell me, you won’t even stay for the fucking?”
“We have work to do. God be with you!”
Manzini ushered Fathers Paul and Francesco ahead of him off the patio and back through the house.
“Are you going to shoot them? Father Max asked, masturbating his fat dick.
“They know I can’t. I’d be hauled into Rome, and that would be the end of all our fun. FUCK!”
The fat priest turned and with one foot kicked the wooden cross off the table. Unfortunately for young Jacob Finkel, his teenage dick and balls were nailed to the cross. Now the heavy two-by-fours swung from the teen’s dick and nuts, stretching the genitals almost to the point of ripping. This brought a new scream from the depths of the tortured boy.
“Wake the Jew’s father up. I want to watch him chew off his son’s nipples.”
“Surely, we must report this to the police!” Father Francesco said as they drove away from the old house with the ornate door on the quiet street in Munich.
“We can’t report anything, and Dorfman knows it. Do you want an international investigation into the Catholic Church? Do you want more little boy fucking uncovered? Do you want our own secret activities revealed to the world?”
“Really, Bishop, fucking children is one thing, but torturing Jews is another. Most of the boys we fuck learn to like it after a while. By the time a boy is eight or nine and has had enough cock up his little ass, he quite enjoys it.”
“Are you sure?” Manzini glared at the young Priest in the rearview mirror. “Or do you tell yourself that to assuage any guilt you might feel? Do you think your father never tortures any little boys? Have you never enjoyed the pain you give when you force your fat fucker into the sweet young ass of some innocent child? Or when you feel your dick pulse in his throat, almost choking him? No, the only difference with Dorfman is that his sexual perversions are tied into anti-Semitism and that he makes no bones about his perversions. He doesn’t hide behind the church but flaunts his lust. True, the church protects him, but the church must protect the worst of its flock along with the best. Let’s get a hotel and get out of Munich in the morning.”
Back at Dorfman’s house, some of the priests were dragging the teenage Jew boy across the patio by the board nailed to his dick and balls. They laughed and spit on him. Dorfman was inside having a conversation with a most unusual young man. The kid was no more than nineteen and was what you might call a “skinhead.” His hair was cut very short, and he had an arrogant Aryan look to his handsome face. He was dressed up in Nazi paraphernalia, including a tee shirt with a swastika on it. He slumped in an armchair and kept kicking an old end table with one jack-booted foot.
“Yeah, yeah, I understand Father Dorfman. The one named Father Francesco.”
“The other two can disappear, and I don’t care what happens to them, as long as they’re not linked to us, but Father Francesco I want him brought here in secrecy. You can mess him up a bit, but I don’t want him damaged. And don’t shove your cane up his ass. You can do that to Father Paul. I think you will enjoy working on him. In fact, it might be interesting if he were found in an alley someplace with a Star of David carved into his chest and his ten-inch dick the victim of a homemade circumcision. Whatever turns you on, but Father Francesco, I want in one piece and undamaged!”
The young man in the chair looked bored to death.
“Yeah, yeah, how many times do you need to tell me?”
“Look, Rolf. Two weeks ago, I asked you to pick up a Jewish schoolboy for me. Everything went according to plan, except that in the van on the way here, you couldn’t control your dick, and you ended up rupturing the boy’s bowels before I ever even got a crack at him.”
The young thug raised his hands in protest.
“I explained that. The fucking Jew boy had a real smart mouth on him. I was just trying to teach him a lesson. I was fucking his little ass when the van hit a pot-hole in the road, and I must have done something to him by accident.”
“Then how do you explain the teeth marks all around his dick and scrotum?”
“Bah, the little fucker was a nasty shit. And Jew boys like him are in plentiful supply.”
“That is not the point, you dumb fuck. When I give you an order, you are to carry it out. Now can do you do this job or not?”
The cute thug lowered his head and looked suddenly like a little boy.
“I can do it.”
“You’ll need help. All three of these priests can handle themselves in a scuffle.”
The skinhead laughed.
“Bah, they’d just better worry about being able to handle a baseball bat up the asshole.”
“Yeah, yeah, except for the precious Father Francesco. He’s your toy.”
“Will you stop kicking the end table? It’s an antique, and if you break it, you will pay for it.”
“Can I fuck the Jew kid on the patio?”
In a tiny apartment off the narrow back streets of the city, twelve-year-old Pietro sat on Carlos’ big dick and bounced. He wrapped his thin young legs around the slim waist of the young man as he fucked himself.
“Harder, bounce harder, you little fucker!” Carlos wheezed, out of breath from a twenty-five minute fuck.
“You are fucking killing me!” little Pietro squealed.
“We got to open that pussy up! I’m going to be fucking you two or three times a day, and I want you to enjoy it. Bounce on my dick. Get it way up into your fucking guts.”
Pietro leaned in and began to bite Carlos on the neck. He clamped down hard to assuage the pain in his little boy rectum.
“Oh, yeah, oh yeah, that’s it. That’s it. Oh, Jesus, Mary, and Joseph that’s great. My dick’s punch fucking your stomach. Holy shit, you are a great fuck.”
Carlos opened his mouth, taking the boy’s twelve-year-old tongue into it and sucking on it. The two of them swapped spit while the huge dick fucked in and out of the bouncing asshole. Pietro’s fingers clawed at Carlo’s shoulders.
“Oh fuck, I’m going to cum. I’m going to cum! Take my sperm, you fucking twat!”
Carlos arched his back and pushed his hips up off the bed to get even more dick into the little boy.
“Oh fuck, you’re ripping my asshole!” the beautiful boy threw his curly head back.
“I am turning it into a cunt. I want you to have a cunt for me!”
A massive load of sperm shot from thick dick into the boy’s guts. It felt to Pietro like the wine enemas Cardinal Barcola used to give him. His intestines were filled with cock spunk.
“Holy Jesus, fuck me. Fuck my worthless little pussy!” Pietro screamed.
Both of them froze that way like some ancient fresco, only the throbbing dick pumping cum into the boy’s ass. Finally, the fuck was finished, and Carlos fell back onto the bed and reached over for his cigarettes. The boy tried to rise up off the still deflating dick, but it was too painful. He patiently waited until the cock grew flaccid and slipped from the well-fucked asshole. Then little Pietro rolled off to one side.
“I never felt anything like that,” he said in a shy, little boy voice.
“You’ll be feeling that three or four times a day. I have a huge sex drive. Don’t forget to clean me up.”
Carlos smoked while beautiful little Pietro licked the dirty dick and balls clean. Then he looked at Carlos with large dreamy eyes.
“Now, shit the cum out of your ass and eat that. I don’t like boys to waste my cum.”
The little boy squatted over his own hand and squeezed. He farted, and then some cum shot out of his ass and filled his hand. Then more sperm trickled out. He brought his hand to his mouth and licked it.
“Go on, get your fingers up your pussy and get all that cum out.”
Carlos watched little Pietro with something akin to affection in his sparkling eyes and a tiny smirk on his face. Pietro smiled at Carlos, trying to please him, and dug his little fingers deep into his own ass to dig out the last of the cock snot. He licked and sucked on his fingers.
“You are really something, Pietro. No, go shower and gargle. When you get back, I want to kiss you.”
The boy was so excited for the affection he ran to the bathroom, his little ass globes rising and falling.
“And don’t jerk off while you’re in there. I want to milk you later.”
“Okay, Carlos, anything you say.” The boyish voice from the bathroom was thin and high and filled with love.
“The cameras are off?” Karl Lundquist asked Cardinal Barcola.
Karl had one hand on the shoulder of beautiful young Angelo who was dressed in very short shorts and a tee shirt. Cardinal Barcola’s eyes ate the little boy. He felt his dick rising under his cassock. His eyes traveled down to the tiny dick lump in the boy’s tight shorts.
“What difference does it make? I fuck the choir and altar boys here all the time with the cameras on. We erase them later.”
“But this boy is from the outside. When he goes missing, the police will sniff around. Remember, he’s the little brother of a girl who is fucking a member of the Swiss Guard.”
Cardinal Barcola laughed and glanced down at the bulge on the soldier where the cock cage enclosed his dick and balls.
“Not recently, you haven’t!”
“Remember, if I give you the boy, the cage comes off.”
“You stupid cunt, you soldiers are big and strong and handsome and really dumb. I did not say it would come off. I said I would reduce the time you had to wear it.”
“If I don’t fuck someone soon, I am going to lose my mind,” Karl said. He was dead serious.
“Maybe, I will remove the cage and let you fuck little Angelo here. How sweet would that be, fucking the little brother of your girlfriend?”
“I’m not gay,” Karl protested
Conversely, Karl remembered the night before when he and Peter Stormer had fucked little Angelo’s ass to prepare him for the Cardinal. His girlfriend’s cunt was not nearly as tight and warm as the little boy’s rectum.
“Who cares! A hole is a hole. And tell me soldiers fighting on this front or that don’t sample each other’s assholes every night. Evenings in Afghanistan are filled with the sounds of American GIs sucking dick. Soldiers in Iraq fuck whatever they can lay their hands on. The world is one big lie, and we fabricate illusions to hide our true feelings. Anyway, to answer your question, the cameras have been turned off. No one saw you and the boy enter. No one knows you are here.”
“That’s what I wanted to know.” Karl’s hand tightened on the scared little boy’s shoulder. “He’s terrified.”
“Good. I hope you told him it’s going to hurt. Do you know what I am going to do to you, Angelo?”
Little Angelo shook his head.
“I am going to fuck your little ass. I am going to fuck it with my big dick. And then I am going to fuck it with a huge candlestick. And then when it is nice and loose, I am going to shove my entire hand up your baby boy asshole.”
The boy’s terror was not artificial. His eyes were as wide as saucers.
“That’s right. My hand and even some of my forearm. Some boys older than you never recover from a good fist fucking. We’ll have to see how you do. Now strip out of your clothing. Karl, you strip too. I like looking at your naked body.”
The Cardinal fingered his throbbing prick through his robes as he watched the little boy peel off his tee shirt. He drooled over the thin pale chest and the tiny flat nipples. He loved the sight of the hairless armpits.
“Oh, my,” he cooed, “what a pretty thing.”
Then the shorts came off, and the little boy stood there in just his underpants.
“Karl, kneel down and peel his underpants off with your teeth.”
Muscular Karl Lundquist with his big dick encased in a cock cage, knelt down naked before the little boy and leaned in. He felt the child’s smooth, soft skin against his face as he took the waistband of the briefs in his teeth and tugged down. Soon they were pooled around the boy’s ankles, and the child stood naked. His dick was small and shriveled in fear. His balls were like tiny grapes in their velvety soft hairless sack.
“Precious. We’ll have to see about some scrotum jewelry for the child. Maybe some large safety pins through the sack.
“Karl, you’ve done well.
“Open your mouth, child, as wide as you can and lean your head back.”
The little boy blinked at the old priest but then followed orders.
“Now, Karl, I’ve noticed that you’ve caught a case of the sniffles. Go on, blow your nose into little Angelo’s mouth.”
For some strange reason, Karl’s dick lurched painfully in the cock cage. He leaned over the little boy’s open mouth. Then he looked up at the Cardinal.
“I have decided this sweet angel needs to be corrupted in every imaginable way. Have you ever eaten shit, darling?”
The boy gulped and shook his head.
“I know some little boys your age and younger who serve as full-time Vatican toilets. It’s an acquired taste, I admit. And the boys’ minds seem to shut down after a bit, but it’s a wonderful feeling to see the beautiful angelic face of a little boy covered in shit. Piss is not nearly so troublesome. Boys take to that like fish to water.
“Go on, Karl, blow your nose into his mouth.”
“I’m sorry,” Karl whispered to the little boy, and then snorted and blew a massive load of snot into the child’s open mouth. The boy trembled like a butterfly just pinned to a board.
“Oh yes,” the priest murmured.
The Cardinal ran over to Karl Lundquist. He raised one priestly finger and began to dig around up Karl’s nose. Karl was in shock. The finger pried a huge bugger out of the soldier’s nose.
“Here you are, my little angel,” cooed the Cardinal as he inserted the bugger into the little boy’s snot-filled mouth and wiped it on the kid’s tongue. The boy gagged.
“None of that now! You must learn to eat whatever is given to you.”
He took the boy’s face in his bejeweled hands.
“Swallow, baby. Swallow for Uncle Barcola! When he was just a child, I wanted so badly to feed my own son my buggers and piss and shit, and I just never had the courage. I still look at him today and remember how beautiful he was at twelve, sucking my dick. I wish so I had done more to him, but now I have you, and I can do anything I want to you.”
His fingers went down to pinch the tight foreskin on the little boy’s small penis.
“Well, Karl, what are you waiting for? He’s swallowed like a good boy. Blow your nose into his mouth again. Can’t you see he’s hungry?”
Peter Stormer knocked on Gina’s door. He had been looking for Karl all day. He had no idea the Cardinal’s demand for the boy would come so soon. Truth be told, it was Angelo he was thinking about. He had never felt a sensation in his entire life like the tongue of the little boy up his ass. The previous night he had begged his own girlfriend to suck his ass, but she had flatly refused. He kept thinking of how wonderful it had felt bouncing on the little boy’s face.
“Yes. Oh, hi, Peter. Long time no see.”
Gina immediately leaned provocatively on the door jamb when she recognized Karl’s fellow soldier.
“Hi, Gina. Is Karl here?”
“No, he’s off someplace with Angelo. Sometimes I think he loves my brother more than he loves me.”
One of her hands went up to pinch her nipple through her thin, peasant blouse.
“Don’t be silly. We all like Angelo, but he loves you.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“I didn’t even know you knew Angelo. The little shit is certainly popular lately. Want to come in?”
“Eh, I’d better not. I have things to do.”
“Want to come in and fuck me?”
She opened her blouse to show her ample tits with the big rosy nipples.
“Gina, how can you? Your boyfriend is my best friend.”
“I can’t help it, Peter. I need to be fucked so badly, and you know with that sick cage on his dick, Karl can’t do it. I even had Angelo fuck me, but his dick is too small to feel anything.”
Peter had a fleeting image of twelve-year-old Angelo fucking his big sister, his sweet ass cheeks rising and falling as he pumped into her. Peter felt his dick getting hard. What was wrong with him? Maybe he did need to fuck some bitch good and hard.
“If you’re really Karl’s best friend, then you should help him out. He is losing his mind over my lust. If you fuck me, it will help him too. Please, fuck me, Peter. Please, fuck me as hard as you can.” Her hands went down to his trousers, and she unzipped them and drew out his nine-inch dick. “Oh, fuck, it’s nice to see a nice big dick with no fucking cage on it. It looks delicious. Oh, Peter, I need to suck it, and then I need you to fuck me senseless.”
Back in the Vatican, Cardinal Barcola was at last fucking little Angelo. He had the boy on his back with his legs up over his thin bony shoulders. He had his dick balls deep in the child. He was also spitting into the boy’s face. Before he fucked him, he had beaten the boy’s pretty ass with a thin, stiff birch rod. He had also beaten Karl until the soldier had red welts on his muscular ass and on his stomach as well. The boy had screamed in agony at the whipping, but Cardinal Barcola had assured the boy that this pain was nothing compared to what he would soon feel.
“After I finish fucking you, little bitch, I’m going to shove a long sharp rod up your tiny pisshole. Won’t that be fun? Oh my, your asshole is so nice and tight.”
Karl Lundquist picked up the heavy brass candlestick and moved toward the bed. His eyes were on the key attached to the chain around the Cardinal’s thin neck. That was the key to his cock cage. The Cardinal, his dick throbbing in the boy’s asshole, turned his head to look at Karl. His beady little eyes grew wide. His nostrils flared.
“That is a foolish thing to do, Karl!” was all he said.
“No, it’s a very smart thing. An investigation will show you were killed mid-fuck. Because of that, the entire affair will be hushed up and not pursued. Some poor kid you fucked bashed in your brains with a candlestick.”
Karl swung the stick, and it made a dull thunk as it met the Cardinal’s head. Angelo closed his eyes in horror. The cock in his ass swelled and shot a load of cum. The Cardinal’s last orgasm. Then the old man collapsed on top of the boy. Karl reached down and tore the key from the dead man’s neck.
“Get out from under there, Angelo, and get dressed. You did very well.”
Karl worked like a maniac to unlock the dick cage. Once free, he lifted his handsome head to the ceiling and emitted a long deep sigh. His cock unfolded from the plastic cage and grew to a huge erection. He went over to the bed and began to jerk off over the Cardinal’s body. It did not take long. A massive load of cum gushed out of the aching dick. Karl moaned in pain and ecstasy. His hand squeezed his nuts. His face twisted in rapture as his balls emptied.
‘Holy Christ!” he moaned as rope after rope of sperm splattered the old man’s dead body. “Take that, you dirty old fucker!” Then he turned toward little Angelo. “Let’s get out of here.”
“Wait,” said the little boy, “can I lick off your dick?”
“Well, okay, but hurry.”
The little boy began to lick the strings of cum from the swollen pulsing prick head. Karl’s fuck need was so bad that his cock never even went down. It just stayed painfully erect.
“You can fuck me if you want to,” Angelo said, his lips covered with cum.
“We have to get out of here. I’ll fuck you later.”
“Before you fuck Gina!” he said with a satisfied grin on his cute little face.
It was late that same day when Father Francesco was kidnapped. Rolf and three other Neo-Nazi skinhead thugs grabbed the handsome priest as he was leaving a German book store in the back streets of Munich. None of the priests from Rome felt they had anything to fear in the city. They were wrong. It was not until eleven that night that Bishop Manzini knew for sure something was wrong. Manzini paced the comfortable hotel suite while young Father Paul listened from the bathroom where he was soaking in the tub.
“They’ve got him. Father Dorfman and his sick clan have kidnapped Francesco. It’s the only viable explanation.”
“Should we call the police?” Paul asked.
“We can’t do that. We can’t report anything of a sexual nature to the police. It would open up a whole can of worms for the church.”
“Well, does the church have people who can take care of this sort of thing?”
“Yes, but how do we get them here in time? I could call Cardinal Barcola in Rome. He’s Father Francesco’s illegitimate father and very proud of his son.”
“You and Cardinal Barcola are very close?”
“We used to fuck Francesco together when he was a little boy. I’ve been intimate with Francesco since before his balls dropped. He’s the perfect example of a Catholic who has been ass and mouth fucked since he was five years old, has grown up with the church, loves sex, and has managed to keep his fucked asshole virgin-tight through hard exercise and work. He’s damned near perfect. I love the boy, and we’ve got to get him back.”
Bishop Manzini sat on the edge of one of the beds and picked up the phone. While Father Paul stepped out of the bathtub, his huge flaccid fucker swinging and dripping water, Bishop Manzini placed a call to Rome. Paul wandered over to the bedside and stood there, his big feet spread as he toweled his balls and dick and then his armpits and hair. While waiting for the call to connect, Manzini reached up and fondled Father Paul’s fat dick. The next few minutes went by as if in a dream. Bishop Manzini listened far more than he spoke. When he did talk, his words were few and his manner short. Father Paul could tell something was wrong. Manzini put down the phone and looked up at the young Polish priest.
“I can’t believe this. Cardinal Barcola has been murdered. His skull was crushed by some hustler he had into his rooms apparently. His face was covered in sperm.” While he spoke, he absent-mindedly pumped Father Paul’s big prick. “This is unbelievable. Cardinal Barcola has security cameras, but they were turned off.”
“So Father Francesco and his Father, the Cardinal fell to foul play?” Father Paul sat heavily on the bed. He ran a hand through his hair. He had grown very fond of Father Francesco. “How will I ever get Francesco back?”
“Well, it’s clear that the Vatican has its hands full. Whatever transpires here is obviously up to us. And there’s worse news. The Holy Father, anticipating my call, has issued an order that we continue with our search and provide the big dicked candidate for the Easter Celebration. If we succeed, he will make me the next Cardinal Secretary in Barcola’s place.”
Paul’s dick was over nine inches now and leaking like a broken faucet. Bishop Manzini kept pumping it without thinking.
“Well, congratulations, I suppose…”
Father Paul kissed the older clergyman on the mouth. Their tongues explored each other’s oral cavities. After the deep tongue kiss, Manzini looked into Paul’s big eyes.
“I’m not at all sure I want that position. I’m not sure I want to live in Rome permanently in that inner tomb of a city that the Vatican is. I’m not sure I want the responsibility of being procurer for the Pope.” He raised his hand and began to twist and tug at Father Paul’s pouty nipples. “However, our first priority must be to find and free Father Francesco. Well, our second priority. Our first must be to empty your bloated balls. You can’t go on a rescue mission like that.”
“Shall I masturbate, Bishop Manzini?”
“No, no, my boy, let me suck it. It will get my mind off my worries. Who would want to kill Cardinal Barcola?”
The last words were intelligible due to Father Paul’s big Polish dickhead filling the Bishop’s mouth.
“I’m free! I’m fucking free! I can’t fucking believe it!”
Karl Lundquist and little Angelo were walking down a narrow Roman backstreet made yellow by the streetlamps. Giant shadows were cast onto the closed storefronts, apartment buildings and boutique hotels they passed. Angelo looked up at his hero.
“You promised to fuck me.”
Karl stopped walking and looked down at the beautiful twelve-year-old.
“And I will keep my promise.” He ruffled the little boy’s hair. “I could not have done this without you.”
“Gina won’t be happy if you fuck me. She’ll be jealous.”
The young boy put his hand on Karl’s muscular ass cheek and squeezed. He loved the feel of Karl’s ass. He loved everything about Karl.
“We won’t go to Gina’s place. We’ll go over to Peter’s apartment. Gina can wait. It serves her right for being such a bitch while my dick was locked up. Besides, your ass is tighter than her cunt.”
The boy smiled seductively.
“Do you really like fucking my ass?”
“Both Peter and I really loved fucking your ass and turning it into a pussy, but one of the things that Gina and I both had in common was that we loved to fuck four or five times a day. That’s why it was so hard for her when my dick was locked up. She is fuck crazy, and I’m afraid I am too. I don’t think a little guy like you could take that much fucking.”
Angelo squeezed the muscular ass again. Then he reached around and grabbed Karl’s large unfettered dick lump through his trousers.
A middle-aged woman coming down the street with two bags of groceries in her arms stopped and stared.
“You should be ashamed of yourself. You should be arrested!” she spat at Karl, who was smiling at the little boy cupping his genitals.
“Ah, do you think so?”
Karl laughed and then bent down and started to lick Angelo’s face. He licked the kid’s cheeks, and eyes, and nose, and then thrust his tongue into the boy’s mouth. Meanwhile, his hands went down inside the boy’s pants to feel his naked ass-pussy.
“You’ll go to hell for that. Mark my words. God will punish you. You’ll go to hell!”
Karl’s fingers went between Angelo’s little ass cheeks and probed his asshole.
“Believe me, lady, I already work in hell!”
The lady huffed and puffed as she moved on. Karl and Angelo broke out laughing.
“She’ll probably go home and finger her cunt over what she saw,” Angelo said in delight. He was a smart twelve-year-old. While he spoke, he planted kissed all over Karl’s face. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, and I’m not trying to go against my sister, but you know she was having other men fuck her all the time.”
Karl made a sad face.
“I know. That’s because my dick was in that fucking cock cage.”
“No. I mean before that, even before you had that problem. When the two of you were dating and fucking all the time. She would still be fucking other guys.”
They had begun to walk again, but now Karl stopped.
“You mean she cheated on me? While I was fucking her four times a day, she still cheated on me?”
“She fucks all the time. It’s all she thinks about. It’s like some kind of sickness. I’m afraid it runs in the family, and I will have it too. It’s like fucking is the only thing she thinks about. I’m sorry to tell you this. I don’t like to make you sad, but she was getting fucked by all kinds of guys. Other guardsmen, policemen, soldiers. She likes guys in uniform. And she likes big dicks.”
“The fucking bitch!” Karl shook his head. Then he looked down at Angelo. “Well, little buddy, I haven’t been able to fuck for months. Now that my dick is free, if I don’t fuck soon, I’m going to lose my mind. So what say we go over to Peter Stormer’s flat and I fuck the shit out of your little ass?”
“That would be a dream come true!” Angelo said starry-eyed as only a little boy can be over a crush on an older guy.
Father Francesco was hanging nude by his wrists. His body slowly turned from the weight of the lashes applied to it. Young Neo-Nazi Rolf was also naked and sported a tremendous hard-on. He knew how to handle a whip, and each swing brought a new red welt to the priest’s muscular body. Rolf concentrated on the back and ass, but every fifth or sixth blow was aimed at the large low hanging testicles. This sent waves of pain through Francesco’s body and tiny lights seemed to explode in his brain, followed by horrible nausea. Father Dorfman sat in an armchair watching. His hand was buried beneath his flabby stomach, fingering his small dick.
“Rolf here is only nineteen. Would you believe that a boy of only nineteen could be such an expert in delivering pain? That’s because he practices on two or three Jews every week. He just finished a long slow castration of a teenage Jew boy last Wednesday. He tied a wire around the dick and balls of the Jew and then kept the boy alive and healthy in every other way. He even fucked the teenage Jew ass to give the boy some pleasure, but with the circulation to the dick and balls cut off, the genitals grew blue, then black, and then began to rot away. How that boy did suffer. I offered him a chance to accept Jesus as his savior before the end, but he wouldn’t come around. What are we going to do with Father Francesco, Rolf, any creative ideas?”
Rolf wiped the sweat from his naked body and fingered his own eight-inch fucker. Rolf licked his lips.
“I suggest a full-fledged crucifixion. Spikes through the hands and feet, and also his dick and balls. Hang him up and let him hang there until he dies. With his big muscular body, that will be a beautiful sight.”
“That’s an excellent idea. Our friends have been clamoring for a full crucifixion. Perhaps for Easter since that’s only a few weeks away. Until then, we can play with him; soften him up, so to speak. What about slitting the scrotum skin and putting heavy weights inside his nut sack. That’s always fun.”
“Yah! We will get to that and much more.”
Rolf picked up a Taser and walked up to Father Francesco’s dangling sweat-slick body. Rolf stepped up on to a low wooden stool, so he was the right height for what he had in mind. Francesco looked at him through blurry blue eyes. His mouth hung slack from pain and exhaustion. Rolf lifted one pale, muscular arm.
“Lick my armpit, priest. Lick my stinking armpit clean for me.”
Father Francesco turned his head to one side. Rolf touched the tip of the Taser to the priest’s big scrotum. Father Francesco jumped in his bonds. His whole body stiffened. He let out an agonizing scream.
“Lick my stinking armpit.”
Handsome Father Francesco lapped at the hairy armpit of the Nazi thug.
“That’s it, Father. You’re a lover, not a fighter.”
Rolf laughed and forced the head deeper into his armpit. Father Dorfman fingered his dick harder and faster.
“I can think of two things Father Francesco needs right now. Right, this minute.”
“And what might those be, Herr Father Dorfman?”
Rolf pulled back but grabbed one of Francesco’s big nipples and yanked hard, so the suspended body swung in midair. Father Francesco groaned, and tears ran from his sparkling blue eyes and dripped from his chin.
“Well, first thing...the first thing he needs is a nice big dildo up his priestly ass. A nice big dildo, at least twelve to fourteen inches long and as thick as a beer mug. He needs it fucked deep into his ass and then rammed in and out until he sobs with pain and humiliation. Then, the second thing he needs is a nice thick steel rod shoved up the pisshole of his dick. Shoved in deep and then fucked in and out. How does that sound, Rolf?”
“That sounds most excellent, Father. And it so happens that I have such utensils right here in this cabinet. A fourteen-inch dildo will be much better than a twelve-inch one. And it should get thicker and thicker as it reaches the base, so the ass rim is painfully stretched to tearing. And the pisshole skewer should be at least as thick as a nice thick cigar. Don’t worry, we can stretch the urethra.”
“If he screams too much, we may have to cut off his tongue. Have you ever eaten tongue?”
“Animal tongue, Herr Father Dorfman?”
“No, no, human tongue. The tongues of boys not yet into puberty are oh so tender and delicious. I must have you over for a meal, Rolf. You do such good work for me.”
It did not take them long. Vatican security agents broke down the door to Gina’s apartment. They found Peter Stormer fucking Gina. They dragged him naked to a chair and tied him up. Then they took turns fucking Gina. She pretended to mind more than she actually did. It was when they burned her nipples and clit with cigarette lighters that she regretted being so flip about the whole thing. They asked her where they might find Karl Lundquist. When she passed out, they moved over to Peter and held the fire under his penis and balls. His screams filled the small apartment and woke the neighbors. How had they gotten onto Karl so quickly?
“Come on, Peter, you don’t want to lose a beautiful dick like this!” One of the agents said, holding a sharp knife to Peter’s fat full fucker. “Tell us where we can find Karl. He’s your best friend. You of all people would know where he went.”
While they questioned Peter, two more of the agents had stripped to spit-roast fuck Gina again. She was unconscious now, but that didn’t seem to bother them.
“You see, if we make all kinds of tiny cuts up and down your dick and especially on the cockhead, it will be oh so painful for you. You’re fucking Karl’s bitch, you must know where he would hide after killing the Cardinal!”
Peter pretended to be shocked.
“Karl, killed who? The Cardinal? Which Cardinal?”
“Don’t play games with us!”
The agent expertly and quickly slit Peter’s scrotum skin. Peter screamed in agony.
“Oh come, come, I barely nicked you. What will happen when I stick my knifepoint actually into one of your big nuts? Peter, is it worth it to you to lose your dick and balls to protect a murderer?”
“I swear I don’t know where he’d go. His apartment, I suppose.”
“We’ve already been there. We’ve got men posted there. Where else might he go?”
The very point of the knife blade entered Peter’s wide pisshole. One move of the knife and the piss lips would be slit wide open.
“Please! I haven’t done anything. It’s not illegal to be his friend. I don’t know anything if he has some crazy ideas. Why hurt me?”
The agent leaned in and spit in Peter’s face.
“Because you Swiss Guardsmen stick together. You think you’re elite and above the law. You scoff at us Vatican security agents. Now, you’d better come up with a suggestion as to where we can look for Karl Lundquist, and you’d better do it quick. He has a young boy with him.”
The knife moved ever so slightly, and Peter felt a sharp sting in the lips of his dick. The agent smiled.
“My apartment! Have you tried my apartment? He crashes there sometimes. He has a key.”
“Your apartment. Good idea! You see what good ideas we can have if we work together? Put your pants on Luigi and get over to this asshole’s apartment.”
“I haven’t shot off in her cunt yet. Let me just blow my load.”
The Agent with the knife on Peter fumed at Luigi’s insubordination.
“You go now, fuckface! We’ll keep them occupied. You can fuck her all you want when you get back. If this fucker has hit on a brilliant idea and Karl Lundquist is at his pad, then he can keep his dick. If not, well then we have to think of other places our culprit might be hiding. We have ways to stimulate other ideas.”
The agent laughed and bounced Peter’s flaccid dick on the flat blade of the knife.
In another small apartment in the city, Carlos the Killer shot his load of cum down little Pietro’s throat. Pietro gurgled and gulped, eager to swallow the glue-like fuck slop. It was Carlos’ fifth load of the night, and he still was not done fucking this delicious little boy.
The decrepit sack of ancient flesh that was Father Grimaldi shuffled on his old, but still serviceable, hand-tooled Italian sandals toward the table on which the little boy was bound. Father Grimaldi was naked, and his balls hung halfway down to his knees and slapped from one thigh to the other as he made his slow way to the table. He had a wistful smile on the mass of wrinkles that was his face. Two steps behind him, a young monk from an obscure and somewhat mystic sect situated high up in the Pyrenees followed respectfully. The young monk was no more than twenty-two or three and was also naked. He had a nice thick dick that hung half hard, which occasionally twitched and jumped. Father Grimaldi reached the table and gazed down at the totally naked eight-year-old boy strapped there. The boy was on his back, twisting and turning as he tried to get free. He had a look of horror on his gorgeous smooth young face. So different from the ruin of a countenance that was Grimaldi’s face.
“Now, you just relax, boy,” Grimaldi said.
Grimaldi ran his rough hand over the boy’s smooth flesh. He patted and stroked the child’s shoulders and chest, pausing to play with the small nipple buds. Then his hand slid lower across the little boy’s belly to his groin, where Father Grimaldi fingered the small penis.
“You have to remember that you are performing a great service for Jesus here. You are helping the church. You are on a personal mission for His Holiness the Pope.”
Grimaldi snapped his fingers, and the strong young monk moved in to lift and refasten the little boy’s thin legs up over his head, lifting his ass to become the highest part of his bent little body. The boy curled his tiny toes in tension and fear.
“You have such a beautiful little ass, Tonio, such a perfect little boy ass. That’s why the Pope chose you. Of all the little boys in the choir, he chose you to help us with this project.” Grimaldi put one finger on the boy’s button nose. “You’re special.” He raised a hand and began to tickle the soles of the little boy’s feet. “Are you ticklish? Huh, my little cherub. Does that tickle you?”
In spite of the little boy’s uncomfortable position, tied to a table with his feet up over his head, he could not help but respond to the tickling. High pitched little squeals bubbled from his soft coral lips. Grimaldi’s dick was nowhere near hard, but strings of pre-fuck hung from the thick dirty foreskin. The young monk’s fucker was hardening up nicely.
“So, what is this all about, huh? What is it the Pope has asked of you? Well, no more guessing, I’ll tell you. You see, for the Pope’s special Easter celebration, he always has certain special guests from all over the world. At this celebration, they have special entertainment. The whole thing is very secret. Part of the entertainment this year will involve a little eight-year-old boy, not unlike yourself. Not you, but very much like you. And so, before the celebration, we have certain things we need to practice, to prepare for. You have been selected to be a stand-in for the boy who will actually be in the show itself on the day of celebration. We need to rehearse certain things with you. Now, let me say, my angel, that personally, I think you would have been perfect for the celebration itself. You are certainly beautiful enough, but His Holiness has some other boy in mind. Anyway, what we have to determine here today, is if an eight-year-old boy of your size and stature can take a ten-inch cock up his little asshole.”
The look on the little boy’s face made the young monk’s prick jump and drool, and caused another string of slime to hang from Father Grimaldi’s shriveled dick. The child could not believe what he had just heard. His small pink mouth opened and closed, but no words came out. His long-lashed eyes blinked in confusion.
“Why? Why me? Why are you going to hurt me?”
“To see if it can work. To see if a little boy like you can take all ten inches of dick. The boy in the show is going to be ass raped by a priest with a dick of ten inches or more. It’s our job to see if this is even possible. Think of how dull the show would be if the little boy died with only seven or eight inches of cock up him. No, no, His Holiness wants ten full inches up the child. He wants the little asshole stretched beyond belief. He wants the boy in unimaginable pain and agony. And so...voila!”
Father Grimaldi held up a ten-inch black rubber dildo with the thickness of a baseball bat. The child on the table screamed and wailed at the sight of it.
“Excuse me, Father, may I masturbate? This little bitch is really turning me on.” the monk asked.
“Technically, you should learn to control yourself, but I understand that at your age, the demands of the flesh are great. As long as you remember that you are doing the Lord’s work here, that you are serving the Pope and not yourself, I see no reason for you not to jerk your healthy young dick.
“Well, Tonio, shall we get started? Now first, we need to stretch your tiny little boy asshole. It’s so tiny and tight as it is, that it could not take a dick even half this large. So, using my fingers, I will stretch your baby shithole, preparing to turn it into a cunt.”
“No…please…please…I beg you. Don’t hurt me.”
“I will be very gentle during this part. Just as gentle as I can be. First one finger then two then three up your tiny rectum. You have such a pretty pink little pucker. The thing is, even most men would have trouble taking a ten-inch dildo of this size up their assholes unless they have been repeatedly fist fucked. And here, you’re going to take it as a tiny eight-year-old virgin boy. You are going to have to be very, very brave. It’s going to hurt an awful lot.”
“Are you going to lube your fingers?” the monk asked, playing with his eight-inch fuckmeat.
The old man smiled.
“No, you are.” He held his wrinkled fingers beneath his own dripping dick to catch some of the cock drool, then he lifted the fingers to the monk’s youthful face. “Here, suck on my fingers and get them wet.”
The young monk didn’t particularly care to suck up the old man’s cock snot since he preferred boys under ten years of age, but he had a job to do and knew how lucky and fortunate he was, so he opened his mouth and sucked on the thin bony fingers. Then the old priest put the fingers to the child’s unfucked little boy pussy hole. He ordered the monk to help spread the tiny ass cheeks a fraction more. Then with one thick finger, he probed at the pink baby pucker.
“Jesus, you have a pretty pussy. That is the prettiest pussy I have ever seen on a little boy. The older boys in the choir would really love to get a crack at this. But you’re special. You are going to help the Lord. You are going to take ten inches of a big thick rubber dick up your little boy pussy.”
“Mama! Help me, Mama!” the tiny child on the table screamed.
That almost brought the young monk to orgasm. He loved nothing more than for a suffering child to call out to his mother. He walked up to the head of the table and let his thick dick slap against the little boy’s face. Trails of pre-fuck slopped across the tiny nose and mouth. Grimaldi gave something between a grunt and a chuckle.
“Don’t distract him. He needs to concentrate on his little cunt.”
Grimaldi worked one finger up into the boy’s moist hole. The old man’s fingernail was cracked and torn, and it hurt. Grimaldi twisted the finger in to the first knuckle.
“Stop, please, you’re hurting me.”
The young monk squeezed some pre-fuck slime from his dickhead onto his fingers and then carefully spread it onto the little boy’s pink lips.
“Is this little cunt good at sucking dick?”
Grimaldi fucked his finger in and out of the raped baby asshole.
“He’s never tried. He’s a total virgin in every way. The most he’s ever done is masturbate the cocks of some of the priests. He’s been fed cum from a spoon every day...his daily vitamins, but he is innocent.”
The young monk was incredulous.
“How can a boy of eight years of age never have sucked dick? Didn’t he have a decent priest? I could understand that if he was Protestant or something, but a good Catholic boy this cute, and he is eight years old, he has never sucked cock?”
“It wasn’t easy, but he’s been kept pure on purpose. He is one of the ‘Pope’s Boys.’
“Now, Tonio, I am going to insert a second finger. This will allow me to stretch the little ass ring. You have a beautiful pussy, Tonio.”
“He has beautiful everything.”
The monk kept applying dick-leak to the child’s lips until they glistened.
“Yes. This is going to be tricky. We need to get the thickness of the dildo up the little ass twat without tearing the ass-ring too much. Some tearing is to be expected, but too much blood will wreck the wondrous sight for His Holiness. He wants to see the little boy asshole enlarged to obscene proportions.
“We’re hoping that the priest Bishop Manzini comes up with has a dick as thick as a full-grown man’s forearm. And then, of course, how can a boy of this age and size take ten full inches up his pussy? That is what we are here to determine. The Pope is adamant, ten inches, not a quarter inch less, balls deep into the tiny boy-cunt. That means the cock will have to go beyond the bowels into the intestines. The intestine will have to be stretched to accommodate the dickhead. The boy’s stomach and guts will actually be fucked. Imagine what the child will feel? Imagine the pain. And yet if the little boy’s innards were ruptured or torn and the child died before the fuck was complete, everything would be ruined.
“The Pope wants to play with the boy and examine his fucked twat after the fucking. He wants the boy conscious and well enough to respond to some further pain. For example, if the boy’s tummy is pressed on or stepped on after the fucking, will that influence the pain in the child’s guts? Where will the dick actually penetrate to and how much of the little boy will it fill? We’re thinking of taking x-ray photos so we can actually see the cock inside the boy’s body as it fucks him.
“And then, to make matters worse, the Pope has requested a really rough fuck, pulling the dick all the way out and punching it back into the boy hole. Fucking balls deep and pulling out until only the dickhead remains inside. That will be one horrendous fuck for any child to endure. So our job is to practice with this darling and this ten-inch black dildo. And if at first, we don’t succeed, well, we have several other boys waiting upstairs.”
The child’s crying filled the room. It was music to the ears of the two clergymen.
“I wish you could fuck me all the time,” Angelo said, gently pumping Karl Lundquist’s big thick spent dick as Lundquist massaged the small boy’s shoulders and chest. When cock leak covered the little boy’s hand, he brought it to his mouth to lick it clean.
“Doesn’t your asshole hurt? I was pretty rough.”
“Sure, it hurts. It hurts like hell, but I want to hurt for you. I want to suffer for you. I want to do anything and everything for you. I love you, sir!”
It was the sweetest declaration of love Karl had ever heard. The twelve-year-old boy seemed obsessed with the soldier’s dick. He lay his handsome young head on the guardsman’s thigh and studied the fat flaccid rubbery prick as he played with it.
“It’s so beautiful.”
“Well, now that Gina has proven to be a dick hungry slut who is not faithful to me, I guess I will have to satisfy my dick with her little brother!” Karl smiled, rubbing his hand over the little boy’s ass globes. “But I have to warn you, I need to fuck a lot. You’re going to have a sore asshole permanently.”
“Nothing could make me happier.”
Angelo leaned in and started to lick the fat dickhead once again. After-fuck bubbled out of the pisshole, and the young boy slurped it up. His fingers gently tickled the soldier’s scrotum, pausing to feel the plum-sized nuts inside the hairy sack. Karl studied the little boy worshipping his recently liberated dick. It felt so fucking good. He could not remember ever feeling so good. Even though he had just committed murder, he knew in his heart that it was a righteous murder.
“Angelo, I want to piss in your mouth. I want to take a piss in your beautiful twelve-year-old mouth. Would you let me do that?”
Angelo lifted his head.
“Of course. Of course, you can piss in my mouth.”
“I’ve always wanted to do that, but no one ever let me. I have always wanted to take a piss in someone’s mouth.”
Angelo licked the dickhead.
“Of course, you can piss in my mouth. You can piss in my mouth all the time. You never need to use a toilet again. My mouth will be your toilet.”
Karl shook his handsome head.
“You are such a wonderful boy. Why didn’t I see that before? Why didn’t I see that you’re as kind and sweet as your sister is nasty and selfish? I want to piss in your mouth now.”
“Here, sit on the edge of the bed, and I will kneel on the floor and open my mouth like I am a urinal. Then you put your beautiful dick head on my lower lip and piss into my mouth. The only thing is, this is my first time, so don’t piss too hard or fast. Give me a little time to adjust to the flow of the piss from your dick. I’ll get better at it, I promise, but this first time, it may take me a bit of time to swallow, so take it easy, all right?”
Twelve-year-old Angelo knelt on the floor between the strong legs of Karl Lundquist. Karl rested the head of his thick cock on the boy’s lower lip. The boy tilted his head back slightly. He was so beautiful like that, waiting for the man’s piss. It seemed almost religious.
“Take a drink, this is my piss!” Rolf said, squirting the enema water from his ass into Father Francesco’s open mouth.
Father Francesco had no choice. In his agony, he needed some water. He was dehydrated and weak. He needed water. And the only water Rolf would give him was the water that shot out of his ass. The Nazi thug had filled his guts with a piss enema, and now he squirted the piss/shit water out into the tortured priest’s open mouth.
“Is that good? Is that good, Father? That’s a piss enema that has steeped in my guts for a while so it will come out as shit piss! Open your mouth for another squirt.”
Father Dorfman roared with laughter. He wandered over to young Jacob Finkel who hung from shackles on the wall. The teenage Jew boy’s body was a fucking mess. His nostrils and lips had been pierced by nails. His ear lobes too. Heavy weights hung from the hook that pierced his nipples. The heavy board to which his dick and scrotum had been nailed still swung between his legs. Most of his fingers and toes had been broken. Dried blood caked the boy’s lips from when his teeth had been pulled.
“Young Jacob, awake again? Ready for more fun. I notice, Jacob, that like the rest of us, a Jew has two eyes. Do you really think you need two eyes? If I plucked out one of your eyes, isn’t that in Shakespeare someplace? Anyway, if I plucked out one of your eyes, you could still see perfectly well, right? What if I plucked out one of your eyes and made you eat it? But then that might spoil your appetite, and I do have a special treat for you for dinner. An extraordinary treat. Your father’s cock! You’re going to eat your father’s cock for dinner. How does that sound? Don’t worry, we’ll make it very, very tender because you no longer have all your teeth.”
Dorfman’s laughter filled the basement room. Father Francesco couldn’t help but wonder what further horrors awaited him. He prayed that God would send Bishop Manzini and Father Paul to his rescue.
Father Francesco was a fucking mess. His body was crisscrossed with lash marks as were his swollen balls and cock stalk. An eight-inch sound stuck out of the pisshole of his abused dick. A huge dildo had been shoved up his ass. There were pins shoved through his nipples and into his thighs and the soles of his feet. He hung by his wrists and groaned softly, praying to God for release from his pain. And, as Father Dorfman reminded him, the worst still lay ahead.
“You have been scourged, and soon, you will be crucified. Large spikes will be driven through your hands and feet, but because we want your agony to last, you will not be crucified by the spikes alone. You will be hung from the cross on a fourteen-inch wooden dildo inserted up your rectum. Wait until you see my cross with the dildo; it is a thing of beauty.”
Across the room, young teenage Jacob hung by his wrists, no longer twisting and moving in agony. He now hung there unconscious. Still, that did not stop Rolf, the neo-Nazi thug, from prying out the boy’s toenails with the sharp point of his knife.
“Are you crazy, Rolf? What good is it if there is no pain?” Dorfman said, pinching the head of Francesco’s swollen sore dick, the sound still lodged in the pisshole. Francesco moaned and threw his head.
“Ah, but think of the pain he will feel when he wakes up. His body is so fucked up that he can’t localize the pain anymore, but when he wakes up, he will feel pain in a new area of his body. This allows us to continue the fun.”
“Remember, I want him alert enough to eat his father’s cock and balls for dinner.”
“I’ll give him an injection to bring him around, don’t worry. I’ve done this with Jew scum hundreds of times.”
The next thing that happened was entirely unexpected (due to the absence of three priest bodyguards who now lay dead on the parquet floor of the hallway upstairs). The door to the cellar burst open. There stood Bishop Manzini with a Beretta nine-millimeter automatic pistol in each hand. These lightweight plastic guns were the very latest models. Bishop Manzini depressed the triggers and held them, and Father Dorfman and Rolf twisted and fell to the cement floor, their bodies riddled with bullets. Blood bubbled from Dorfman’s mouth, and before he died, Rolf clutched at his groin where the two bullets pierced his dick and scrotum. Manzini entered the room, cassock trailing open behind him like some super-hero cape. Beneath his cassock, he wore black army pants, black boots, a black tee shirt, and a combat belt with a large knife. Behind him, Father Paul, in jeans and a black tee shirt followed, his eyes wide with fear and concern. While Bishop Manzini kicked the fallen bodies to make sure they were dead, Father Paul went over to Francesco. Paul was sobbing hysterically.
“Father Francesco, Federico, answer me. Are you alive?”
“Get me down from here,” Francesco groaned.
Father Paul set about lowering the tortured priest to the floor. He glanced over at Bishop Manzini.
“The scum is dead,” Manzini said, kicking the young Nazi thug in the genitals with his boot.
“Bishop, you just killed five men. Three guards and these two.”
“Would you prefer that we allow them to torture Federico to death? Sometimes good men need to do bad things.
“Federico, how are you?”
“Alive, but my dick hurts like hell.”
“Well, you’ve got a steel sound with a diameter of three inches up your pisshole.
“Father Paul, pull it out gently.”
“I’m sorry, Federico, this is going to hurt.”
The tortured priest chuckled through his pain.
“It’s not something new. It’s what I’ve been....I’ve been...” but Father Francesco was too weak to continue.
“Can we get him to a hospital?”
Paul looked to Bishop Manzini for guidance.
“Of course not. Nothing of what happened here can reach the media or the police. I’ll get a Vatican cleaning crew in here to get rid of the evidence, and we’ll take Francesco to a Catholic clinic. They’ll see to his wounds. For now, pull that sound out of his dick and that dildo out of his asshole. Then go to work on the pins in his thighs and feet. What a fucking mess. I’m going to have to put this young Jew boy out of his misery.”
“You’re going to kill him too?”
“What would you suggest? His body is destroyed. His legs are broken in three places, his arms as well. His fingers and toes are all broken to shit. His ball sack has been sliced open, and his nuts are hanging out vulnerable to more abuse. His cockhead has been sliced into four sections. Do you want me to go on?”
Father Paul shook his head in desolation.
“No…no…it’s not necessary.”
“But you must understand. If the Jew boy lives, not only will he be some kind of freak his entire life, but he would be a symbol of what some members of the Catholic Church can do. He would inspire further investigations.”
Bishop Manzini put his Beretta to the teenage boy’s head, and it was all over.
“Francesco has passed out.”
Father Paul seemed on the verge of collapse himself.
“Get that shit out of his body. He still has to face the brutal truth that his father has been murdered in Rome. His problems are just starting.”
In the small apartment in Rome, Karl Lundquist and little twelve-year-old Angelo were lost in the romantic passion of lust. Karl’s dick had been caged up for so long by Cardinal Barcola that he could not get enough sex now that it was free. He also found to his surprise that he was totally smitten by the beautiful twelve-year-old boy. Was it because he so resembled his sister? Or was it because of his innocence and youth? Lundquist had never been queer, but now he found his passion uncontrollable. Here they were in the apartment of his friend Peter Stormer, half the Vatican on their trail, and all he could do was think about sex and sex games. To be fair to him, he had no idea that he was a wanted man, but he knew they had to get out of Rome as soon as possible. But the fuck need is so strong in the young. Lundquist knelt up over little Angelo’s head, his large swollen dick and balls resting on the young boy’s face.
“Okay, Angelo, this time I’m going to try pissing up your nose. You’re sure you want to let me do this?”
Boys at twelve who are in love are pushovers. First love is very powerful. Little Angelo looked up, his eyes filled with adoration.
“You can do anything you want to me.”
“I want to piss up your nose. I’m not sure why. I never did anything like this before, but I just want to try everything with you. Your pale little body is so sweet and vulnerable. Fucking you is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. You drinking my piss was amazing. Now I want to try to piss up your nose as if it was a urinal. Like your whole twelve-year-old face was a piss trough. Am I too heavy sitting on your chest like this?”
“No, it feels heavy but good. I like it when you are on me. I liked it when you and Peter had me eat out your asses.”
“You’ll be eating my ass for hours every day from now on, don’t you worry. You can sleep all night with your face in my ass. Now I’m going to put the tip of my dick up against your cute little button nose. This is going to sting. My piss going up your nasal passages will sting and feel really weird. I saw Cardinal Barcola do this with a boy much younger than you, and I have wanted to try it ever since. You love my dick, don’t you, Angelo?”
Angelo tried to look down his nose to see the big dickhead poised at his tiny nostril.
“Yes, Karl, I love your dick very much.”
“Now take a deep breath, because it’s going to be almost impossible to breathe while I’m pissing up your nose. Here, use your little hands to massage my balls while I am pissing. Gently roll my nuts in your hands. This is just the start of the fucking fun we can have.”
“You gave us the wrong address. You sent us on a wild goose chase. Now you will pay for that. Do you want to lose this nice big fat dick completely? Shall I just slice it off altogether?”
Peter Stormer was not having any fucking fun. He had the blade of a knife up his pisshole. The Vatican agents were not amused. Another agent entered the room and immediately began to unzip his trousers so that he could fuck Gina, who was splayed out on the bed.
“Bad news. The Vatican records have his address, but it’s the wrong one. He must have a “fuck pad” stashed away someplace in Rome,” the agent said as he unzipped.
The agent who had his knife up Peter’s dick spit down on the handsome soldier.
“You have one more chance to keep your dick. Give us the right address.”
Peter knew it was a lose-lose situation. If Karl were at his apartment, he would be caught eventually anyway.
“All right...all right. I’ll tell you.”
“Don’t jerk me around this time!” the agent said, twisting the knife just enough to throw Peter into fits of agony.
Pietro was helping Carlos pack their stolen car with the clothing and goods they had stolen as well. It turns out they were both outstanding thieves. Carlos felt that they could make some significant scores in Venice this time of year. They were just about ready to leave on their journey out of Rome together when Pietro saw the naked boy in the window of the apartment across the street. The boy saw him too and smiled and waved. Then a very handsome naked man came up behind the boy and rubbed his swollen dick on the boy’s face and neck. The boy seemed to enjoy it. Pietro looked up at the light-haired well-built naked man and was shocked. He knew this man. This man was a member of the Swiss Guard at the Vatican. His name was Karl something or other. He had always been very kind to the Vatican boys. Pietro tugged on Carlo’s sleeve and pointed at the window.
“Look at the man and the boy in that window.”
In an incense filled room deep within the Vatican, a small withered man dressed in a spotless white cassock sat in a throne-like chair and dictated a letter. His bejeweled fingers toyed with the scrotum of a ten-year-old boy who stood naked beside him. The beautiful boy looked petrified.
“No matter what happened in Munich, and despite Cardinal Barcola’s horrible murder, I expect you to continue in your search for my newly ordained young priest with a ten-inch or more cock to perform a fuck show for our Easter Celebration. I expect results within the week, and I want several young men from which to choose.”
The small old man made a waving gesture with his hand, and the secretary brought the letter over for the Holy signature. The little man signed the note and placed it in the envelope himself. Then he turned to the young boy next to him whose nuts and dick he had been caressing.
“Your beautiful voice will never leave God if we just remove these unnecessary doo-dads. You don’t mind losing your cock and balls for Christ do you, my sweet young thing?”
The boy had tears in his eyes and a catch in his thin high voice.
“No, Holy Father.”
The old man smiled and inserted a finger up the boy’s asshole.
“That’s a good boy. A very good boy.”
Karl Lundquist sat on the edge of the bed, masturbating his nice thick dick. Sunlight from the open window played across his muscular body and made him look like an angel out of a medieval painting. His large, pouty, erect nipples were tight and pointed riding high on his well-formed pecs, and his tight hard stomach fluttered as he pumped his thick fuckmeat and watched his twelve-year-old boy lower his little body onto a wine bottle. Something had happened to Karl Lundquist when he had killed Cardinal Barcola and unlocked the cage that had been restricting his dick for months. Something else was released, something deep inside him. It was as if a wild animal had been unleashed.
“You can do it, Angelo. You can sit way down on that bottle. You can get the thick part of the bottle right up into your ass-pussy.”
The lithe twelve-year-old grunted yet again and squatted further, trying to force his ass lips to stretch enough to take the fat part of the bottle up into his rectum. His little face was screwed into a mask of pain.
“It hurts, Karl. It hurts too bad!”
“You love me, don’t you? You said you wanted to do everything for me. Look how hard it is making my dick, Angelo. My dick feels so good when I watch you fuck yourself on that wine bottle. Take a little more for me. Just a little more.”
This was not some random act of sadism. Karl really had discovered he loved the little boy, and for some reason, he wanted to explore every known sexual perversion with the kid. It was as if a door had opened and released all of his inhibitions.
“Maybe, we need to start out with a smaller bottle. I can feel this one up in my guts. It really hurts, Karl.”
Karl’s face dropped into a frown. His shoulders slumped.
“Okay, okay, if you don’t want to. I would never make you do anything you don’t want to do. It’s all right.”
His hand stopped playing with his dick, and he sat forlornly, staring out the window at the sun-washed boutique hotel across the street. Angelo began to tear up, but not from pain.
“Okay, Karl, I’m sorry. I’ll do it. I’ll do it for you!”
The little boy pushed more of the bottle up his battered ass, which was starting to gape like a fucking cunt. His toes curled and his flat little boy chest inflated with exertion. Two more inches of the bottle went up the boy-cunt. His voice made a high hissing sound. Karl saw this and started to masturbate frantically.
“See, Angelo, I knew you could do it. I would never ask you to do anything you couldn’t do. You’ve got to have faith and trust in me. If I ask you to do something, it’s because I know you can. It may seem difficult or even impossible at first, but just trust me. Now bounce a little to get even more bottle up your pussy.”
“Are you proud of me, Karl? I love you so much. I love you more than Gina ever did. I used to watch you fuck her and get so jealous. I remember one time after you shot your load, you pulled out of her and some of your cum dripped onto some magazines on the floor next to the bed. When you and Gina fell asleep, I crawled into the room and licked the cum from the magazine covers. I wanted to lick your dick then, but I didn’t dare try.”
“Dear, sweet Angelo, light of my life, you may lick my dick all you want from now on. You may lick my dick sixteen hours a day if you wish. If you sit right down on that bottle until it is totally up your cunt, you may lick my dick right now. I’ll walk over there and let you lick all this nice sloppy juice off my cockhead. All you need to do is get that whole bottle up your twelve-year-old cunt.”
Suddenly their love games were interrupted by a sharp knock on the door. Both Karl and Angelo tensed. Who could that be? No one knew they were hiding out in Peter’s apartment. Karl stood and picked up his automatic.
“Who is it?” he called cautiously.
“It’s Pietro...from the Vatican. Pietro, Cardinal Barcola’s boy. I ran away!”
The child-like voice was high and thin. Karl Lundquist recognized it as belonging to one of the boys the dead Cardinal had sexually abused. Karl put his ear against the door to listen for any other noises in the hallway. His thick dick started to droop a bit. Angelo was poised with the bottle still up his stretched little boy ass.
“What are you doing here?”
“I came to warn you. There’s Vatican security cars parked all along the next street. I think they’re here for you.”
Karl unchained and unlocked the door and threw it open. There in the open doorway stood the little boy he recognized and another person, a very attractive young man in tight jeans and a wife-beater. The young man was unshaven and had the look of a gypsy about him. The gypsy laughed.
“Don’t be afraid of me, I’m with him. Nice dick!”
“I could kill you!” Karl said, raising his automatic.
“You could, but then you’d have a devil of a time escaping in my white van, which I’ve got parked downstairs. I suggest you throw some clothes on and get that bottle out of the boy’s ass. They’re forming up for a raid just around the corner, so we’ve only got minutes.”
“If this is a trap, I swear, I’ll kill you.”
“If this is a trap, you won’t get the chance. Look, you mean nothing to me, but Pietro here begged me to help you out, so that’s what I’m doing. Now hurry up.”
“Angelo, get the bottle out of your ass and get dressed.”
Karl spun began to throw some things into his knapsack.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” twelve-year-old Pietro asked, crossing into the apartment to the boy struggling to get the bottle out of his asshole.
Angelo made a face.
“Of course, it hurts, fuckface! I’m doing it to please my lover, Karl.”
Pietro glanced at the naked former Swiss Guardsman.
“Wow, he’s your lover? He’s hot. He used to watch Cardinal Barcola fuck me sometimes, and I always suspected he enjoyed it.”
“Yeah, but he’s not like Cardinal Barcola. He’s nice. He killed Cardinal Barcola to stop him from hurting children.”
Carlo the Killer’s grin grew wider.
“Is that true? Is that why they’re after you? You killed the old pervert?”
Karl was slipping into a pair of jeans.
“Hurry up, Angelo. We got to get out of here.”
“I can’t get the fucking bottle out of my ass!”
“Then throw your shorts on. We’ll get it out later.”
“Are you crazy, Karl. I can’t walk with this up my ass! It’s killing me.”
“You’re just going to have to. Pietro can help you. Let’s get out of here!”
The two young men and the two little boys left the room, Angelo crying and limping badly as he hobbled along with a wine bottle still up his ass.
Dusty old Father Giancarlo was fit to be tied. This is not how he liked to spend his afternoons. On spindly legs, he crossed over to the naked sixteen-year-old boy, who sat terrified, on the leather couch. The boy’s ass stuck to the leather with the sweat of fear. The naked priest approaching him was grotesque. Flabby flesh hung and swung from his body. As he waddled toward him, the old man fingered his own flaccid dick and sagging balls. The sixteen-year-old had heard about faggots from the boys at school but had never had anything to do with them. A few of the priests at the parish had fondled his cute athletic ass after playing soccer, but that was to be expected. Priests were always doing stuff like that, but nothing like this!
Across the room from the boy, two muscular, bare-naked Swiss guardsmen were strung up like pigs. They hung in restraints from ropes, their smooth, hard bodies twisted into painful agony. They kept pleading that they were innocent. That they knew nothing. It terrified the boy just to watch them swing and twist like that.
“How can they be innocent, the stupid fucks! They were on duty. How could they have allowed Karl Lundquist to escape? It’s not every day a Cardinal is murdered in the Vatican.”
The doddering old man reached the naked teenage boy on the couch. He extended one bony, wrinkled hand, and he pinched the boy’s nipple. The teenager almost pissed himself.
“They were on fucking duty! Of course, they’re not innocent. And they must pay. The ten-inch steel vibrators up their assholes are only the beginning. Jesus wept! Jesus wept when the good kind Cardinal was ruthlessly murdered. I demand vengeance in the name of the Lord!”
He pulled the boy by his nipple, and the kid fell with his face in the stinking groin of the old man. His young lips brushed the meaty flaccid old man dick. Then an old hand grabbed the back of his head and shoved the teenage boy face harder against the old cock and saggy balls.
“Try to remember what you saw, my son. Try to remember the details!”
After a moment, he allowed the boy to pull his cute young face from the filthy sweaty genitals.
“I told you everything I know. I was sneaking home late from my girlfriend’s house...”
Father Giancarlo took the boy’s sweet face and held it in his gnarled old hands.
“Do you fuck her? Do you fuck your girlfriend?”
The boy’s frightened look grew even more extreme.
“I...I...yes, Father, forgive me. I love her. We make love.”
“No, no, my boy, you fuck her. You shove your big teenage dick up into her pussy and fuck her. How old is she, your girlfriend?”
The boy looked down at his naked feet, ashamed.
“High time the bitch was fucked! I hope you fuck her ass too. Do you?”
The boy looked confused.
“Father Marcello says it’s a sin to…to fu…fu…fuck!”
“Father Marcello doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground. He says that because his dick is so small, he can’t fuck. I understand the needs of a boy your age. I felt them myself. Still, do. There’s nothing wrong with fucking some nice young bitch. You don’t use a condom, though, do you?”
“Good. The Holy Father says using condoms is wrong. It’s up to God if the bitch breeds or not. Not your worry. Well, I imagine you want to get back to fucking some teenage twat, so just answer my questions and you can. What exactly did you see?”
“I saw...I saw the guardsman and the little boy whose photo you showed me crossing the square by the big fountain.”
The old priest reached down and fondled the teenager’s nice plump pecker and balls.
“I’ll bet she loves to suck on this. Does she, your fucking bitch of a girlfriend, does she love to suck on your dick?”
The boy looked more and more confused.
“I...ugh...I guess so. She does it a lot.”
The old man chuckled.
“Of course, she does. It’s all they can think of at fifteen. Cock! That’s all the stupid cunts live for. Cock, cock, and more cock. She’s probably sucking off her father and grandfather too. Oh, don’t look so surprised. It’s common. A bitch with her needs probably sucks ten to fifteen cocks a day—her cousins, her brothers, her brother’s friends, her grandpa’s friends. Don’t look so upset, she may very well love you. I’m sure she does. She just needs cock is all. And what a fine young cock you have. That’s a beauty for sixteen. I might be able to find a position for you here at the Vatican.”
“I…ugh…can’t. I’m in school. I’m going to be a—”
“I don’t give a fuck what you’re going to be. When the church calls, you answer! If the church needs you, you serve.” The old fingers were working the teenage dick now and started to grow and thicken at once. “Ah, you respond quickly. That’s good. Tell me, have you ever fucked a little boy in the ass?”
The boy shook his cute head.
“I would never do anything like that.”
The old man chortled.
“You would if the church told you to. If the Holy Father commanded it, you would do it. I can’t tell you how wonderful the fresh tight tiny virgin ass of a five-year-old boy feels massaging your throbbing dick. It’s heaven! And it’s even better if you apply some pain to the little shit while you fuck him. To watch his tiny little body twist and turn in pain while you impale him with your dick. Not like these ugly adult guardsmen swinging over there. Grown-ups are no fun to torture, but I have a job to do. Now, tell me, where did the guardsman and boy go?”
“Down one of the small streets that connect with the square. I don’t remember which one.”
“But you must remember, my boy. This is a murder investigation. This is not a game. You must remember. Perhaps a ten-inch steel dick shoved up your pretty teenage ass will help you remember.”
“Oh…please…I’ve told you all I remember. I don’t know anymore!”
“Sometimes, with some persuasion, the memory clears and forgotten things come to light. Maybe if I slit the skin of your piss lips on your dick with a sharp razor blade. What do you think?”
The boy started to cry. That was more like it. Father Giancarlo loved to see boys cry.
The room was simple and very, very white. Whitewashed walls, undecorated except for the big wooden cross hanging over the bed. Father Francesco lay swathed in clean white sheets. Bishop Manzini and Father Paul stood by the side of the bed.
“I want to stay here with you, but I have to continue my search. You must rest, and I dare not lose another day.”
“I’m well enough to go with you,” Father Francesco said.
It was a brave lie. He could barely move without extreme pain.
“I’ll take Father Paul with me. You can join us in a week or so. We’ve got to find the right man, and we’ve only got twelve days left. We’re going to Ireland next. There’s a young priest there, just ordained a few months ago, who supposedly has a superb dick and is into all the necessary activities.”
“He’s a little boy fucker?”
“That’s what one hears on the grapevine.”
“I hate myself,” Father Paul shouted and pounded on the wall. “If my dick were just a half an inch longer, I could be your man, and your troubles would be over.”
Bishop Manzini smiled and gently brushed Father Paul’s hair.
“I don’t think you have the temperament. The Holy Father has requested an extremely sadistic newly ordained priest with a huge dick to deflower and torment an eight-year-old boy at the Easter Celebration. I fear that you’re just too sweet.”
“I’ll try to join you in Ireland as soon as I can.” Father Francesco was one tough young priest. He shook his handsome head. “I can’t believe my father is dead!”
“That’s another problem we need to contend with. The outside world can never learn the truth. We need to solve this murder ourselves.”
“Do we have any leads?”
“Oh my, yes. A young Swiss Guardsman. Apparently, your father was playing sexual games with him for the last few months. Games he did not enjoy. We’ve got manhunt on for him now.”
The door opened, and very young church attendant of about seventeen entered the room.
“Time for your sponge bath, Father,” the boy said with light dancing in his pretty eyes.
The boy began to undress. Bishop Manzini smiled.
“Do you always strip naked to bathe a patient?”
The boy grinned.
“It saves my clothing. Besides, Father Francesco said he likes looking at beautiful things.”
“Arrogant, aren’t we?”
The boy was very beautiful. He stripped off his underpants to show a huge floppy dick.
“Sorry, not my words, but Father Francesco’s.”
The boy pulled back the sheets and began to undo Francesco’s white hospital gown.
Bishop Manzini studied the young naked churchman.
“I don’t suppose your dick is ten inches, is it?”
Francesco uttered a feeble laugh.
“I already asked him. Sadly, only eight and half hard, but delicious!”
“I can see you are on the mend already!”
Rushing down the stairs of the small boutique hotel, the odd quartet of two adults and two young boys halted at a turn and stopped to listen.
“Did you hear that?” Carlos hissed, holding up his hand.
Karl Lundquist put his hand on little Angelo’s chest to stop him running.
“Boots. Boots coming up the stairs...back to the room, quickly.”
The fearful foursome retraced their steps and shut themselves in Peter Stormer’s apartment.
“They’re coming for us!” Angelo whined, tears filling his beautiful twelve-year-old eyes.
“It’s me they’re after. I’ll climb out the window,” Karl said.
“It’s a long drop if you should fall,” Carlos said, tearing through the Swiss Guard’s knapsack. “Don’t you have anything else to wear?”
“What do you mean?” Karl Lundquist’s mind and heart were racing. “I mean, you’re still wearing your uniform boots and trousers. You don’t stand a chance of not being recognized. Here, strip out of your clothes, and take my jeans, wife-beater, and boots. I’ll send Pietro for more clothes for me when it’s safe. Hurry!”
Karl peeled off his clothing.
“I never even thought about my clothing. So much for the elite Swiss Guard. Your jeans are going to be a tight fit.”
“Especially in the crotch,” Carlos quipped, glancing at Karl’s huge swinging flaccid dick. “This boy here must have a hell of a time taking it up his ass. No wonder you’re training him with a bottle. Hurry! They’ll be at the door any second now.”
Carlos turned to the two twelve-year-old boys.
“You boys, strip naked and get into the bed.”
“I thought we were escaping,” Pietro, who was more aggressive and savvy than little Angelo, said.
“We’re escaping. It’s a new plan. Get in bed.”
A sharp rap on the door filled the little sunlight room.
“Open this door at once. You have five seconds to open the door. Vatican Security.”
At this moment, Pietro and Angelo were just kicking off their shorts. Karl Lundquist stood in the center of the room stark naked, as did Carlos. Carlos scooped up his clothing and tossed it from the window to the street below. “Go! Go now!” The boots followed.
Carlos turned toward the door and yelled. “Who is it, what do you want? We don’t stay here. We’re just borrowing a friend’s room.”
Karl Lundquist climbed over the small wrought iron railing and began to descend. He was stark naked, his fucker slapping his thigh.
“The white van!” Carlos whispered and then threw himself onto the bed with the two naked boys. Just then there was a tremendous blow to the door that tore it off the hinges. Three men almost tumbled into the small room, two of them in full military gear and the third wearing a rumpled dark suit.
“Karl Lundquist, you’re under arrest for…for...”
The security agent stopped in his tracks. What greeted him was the sight of a handsome dark-haired gypsy rolling around in bed naked with two bare-assed little boys. The gypsy had the head of one of the boys down at his crotch, and the lad sucked greedily on the big dick.
“Who are you? What do you want?” Carlos asked, keeping Angelo’s face hidden in his hairy crotch.
“This is the room of Peter Stormer?”
The agent took in the entire small room, then he crossed to the wardrobe and threw it open.
“Yes, but Peter’s not here. He’s letting us use it for the weekend. This is really quite embarrassing.”
The sound of Angelo’s cocksucking filled the room. The two soldiers were so shocked and disgusted that they turned away from the threesome on the bed.
“You’ve been here how long?”
The Vatican agent was not so shy. He had a taste himself for little boy ass, even though he was married with two little girls. How he wished he had a son.
“We’ve been here for two days. Don’t suck so hard, Sorano, you sound like a pig. We’ve got guests. I’m sorry, Signor, I’m afraid once the boy gets a cock in his mouth, there’s just no controlling him. You know how greedy little boys are for dick.”
“We ought to shoot the perverts!” one of the guards said. “It’s a sin against the church, what they’re doing.”
“Our job is to find Karl Lundquist, not to police morality. Did Karl Lundquist show up here in the last two days?”
Carlos smiled and scratched the back of Angelo’s cocksucking head.
“I’m sorry. I don’t even know who Karl Lundquist is. Is he a friend of Peter’s?”
One of the soldiers swung his gun toward the bed. His face was white with shock.
“That little boy has a bottle up his ass! A fucking wine bottle!”
Angelo continued to hide his face in Carlos’ cock and balls. He actually found the gypsy’s cock quite delicious.
“Sorrano here has a very talented pussy, but we’re working hard to make it even more versatile. He should bring in good money. Look, gentlemen, I’m a pimp, and these are my boys. I fully admit that, but surely being a pimp doesn’t merit a military invasion with armed troops.”
Carlos noticed two more uniformed soldiers in the hallway, trying to look into the room to see the action on the bed.
“Karl Lundquist had a boy with him,” the Vatican agent said.
“I have not seen this man or his boy. I swear on the grave of my poor dead mother.”
Carlos wrapped his legs around the slender young body between his thighs to hide Angelo even more. Anglo was gagging on the fuckmeat which had erected and was snaking its way down his little throat.
“Am I not entitled to some privacy?”
“Peter Stormer himself told us Karl Lundquist was here.”
“Look, you gentlemen are obviously working very hard to catch this man, whoever he is. Why not relax. I’ll have my other boy here suck you off. He’s got an excellent mouth.”
“God will punish you for your sins!” the younger soldier barked
The Vatican agent said nothing. If he had had time, he would have indeed sampled the mouth of the cute dark haired street urchin, who sat naked on the bed, playing with his sweet little prick.
Meanwhile, anyone strolling the narrow street outside was greeted with a most unusual sight, if they happened to glance up at the thin strip of blue sky showing between the buildings. A totally naked man was making his way down the front of the apartment structure. He was a well-built young man. His tight ass muscles rose and fell as he climbed down the bricks and drainpipes of the dilapidated facade. Halfway down, Karl saw uniformed police in the street below. If they glanced up, it was all over for him.
Making a split second decision, he swung his naked body onto the small balcony of the nearest room. The double doors were open, and Karl quickly threw himself into the room. He provided quite a surprise to the young couple fucking in the small bed. They were nineteen-year-old newlyweds backpacking across the continent for their honeymoon. Both were stunningly attractive, and the boy had his thick fucker buried balls deep in his new wife’s cunt when he looked up and saw the muscular naked man standing at his bedside. Just then there was a thunderous knock at the door. Karl threw himself onto the bed.
“If you want to stay alive, do as I say!”
He shoved the young bride with her handsome husband’s dick still up her cunt, over onto her side. Then he plunged his own thick dick up into the young woman’s asshole. It did not hurt as badly as it might have, as Karl’s dick was not fully erect, only slightly swollen from the sight of the fucking young couple
“Please, don’t hurt us...we...we’re just married.”
“Do as I say and you’ll be all right. Make one wrong move, and I’ll kill you both.”
There was the sound of a key in the lock, and the door to the room swung open.
“We’re searching every room for a murder suspect.”
Three well-built young soldiers entered the room to find two men on the bed fucking a nineteen-year-old girl, one in the ass and one in the cunt.
“There’s no one here, but my brother Gorgio and my sister,” Karl said in fluent country Italian.
He slammed his dick up harder into the girl’s ass. She grunted. The soldiers did a once over of the room and then stumbled out, looking back at the copulating threesome on the bed.
“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, is everyone in this goddamn building fucking?”
“Please go away and leave us alone,” the curly headed young man pleaded, his dick wilting from fear.
“I can’t leave until the police go away. I need to stay here. If you don’t make a fuss, I won’t hurt you. As long as we’re here, we might as well finish fucking your new bride.”
“Please, Signor, I don’t want to be fucked in the ass!” the nineteen-year-old girl cried.
“I’m sorry, but it’s too late now. I’m halfway up you, and my dick is getting bigger every minute.”
Karl shoved two more inches of cock up the girl’s asshole.
“Please, I don’t want cock in my ass,” the girl sobbed.
“Do something with your bride, my boy. Get your dick hard again and fuck her cunt.”
The young husband hesitated, looking at the menacing man ass fucking his new bride.
“I don’t think this is right. You’d better go. She’s...she’s never had it like that.”
“Then it’s high time she did. You’ll love fucking her in the ass. Now look, I’m stuck here until the soldiers clear out. I’m already up your wife’s ass. So I’m telling you to get your dick hard and fuck her in the cunt.”
“I’m so, so sorry, sweetheart,” the cute young man said as he re-inserted his sizable dick into his wife’s pussy.
They fucked that way for ten minutes, the new bride sobbing and moaning between them. Karl Lundquist reached around and took handfuls of the bride’s ample tits. Then he suddenly pulled out and wiped his dirty dick on some underwear on the floor.
“What are you doing?” the young groom asked him.
“I’m going to show you how to have some real fun. You lie on your back, and the bride will sit on your dick. That way, you can get it nice and deep into her.”
“But won’t that hurt?” the bride asked.
“Only until you get use to it. Don’t you want to please your handsome new husband fully? You need to learn how to ride his dick fully—balls deep. Squat over his dick and lower yourself on it.”
“Holy fuck that feels amazing,” the kid said, taking his wife’s hips and pushing her down onto his stiff upright pecker. “Are you going to fuck her again in the ass while she rides my dick?”
Karl snorted. His adrenaline was racing from all the recent excitement. He was like a wild animal recently escaped from a zoo.
“No, my young friend, I’m going to fuck her in the cunt as well. I’m going to fuck her in the cunt alongside your nice big dick. We’re both going to get our dicks up her pussy at the same time.”
Karl pushed the girl, so she was lying over her husband. Then he moved in behind and reaching down, he felt the young man’s cock fucking the girl’s cunt. He placed the head of his own thick fucker right at the pussy entrance and began to push so that his meat rode into the cunt alongside the husband’s dick.
“Oh…my god...oh...please...oh…take it out. You’ll rip me apart. I can’t take both cocks. They’re too big. Please, for the love of God, take it out.”
The bride sobbed hysterically as her new husband and the mysterious stranger both pushed their thick dicks into her stretched cunt at the same time.
“Oh, yes, that’s good. Keep bouncing on your husband’s cock. Take both our big cocks at the same time.”
Karl Lundquist looked past the beautiful nineteen-year-old girl he was double fucking into the sweating face of her young husband. The kid’s curly hair framed his face. He grimaced as he fucked his wife. Karl simply could not resist. He leaned down and kissed the young husband right on the lips. With their dicks up the girl, the two men kissed. At first, the husband was reluctant, but Karl forced his tongue deep into the young man’s mouth, and soon they were hungrily swapping spit. The groom was twisting and tugging at his wife’s nipples. Karl was likewise pulling and twisting on the groom’s nipples. Each man felt the other’s thick cock as they rode the bitch together. It was a wonderful way to pass the time while waiting for Vatican security to clear out.
Bishop Manzini and Father Paul landed in Ireland. The Bishop had taken a liking to the young Polish priest. He confided in him.
“His wounds are not the only reason I don’t want Father Francesco with us right now. Francesco is like a son to me. I have been fucking him ever since he was a mere child. Cardinal Barcola, who was his illegitimate father, and I would spit roast him when he was only nine, perhaps even younger. But now Barcola has been murdered, and I have been recommended to replace him. I am worried that recent events make take their toll on Francesco’s ability to make rational decisions, what with him being tortured and losing his father all in a few days. I think he needs rest. And then there is the fact that his father was violently murdered. It may all be too much for him.”
“I fully understand,” The young priest said, masturbating the Bishop as they sat together in the cabin of the private Vatican jet.
“You have good hands, my son,” Manzini said admiring the smooth, even strokes the young priest used on his fat leaking penis.
Father Paul smiled shyly. His smooth hands were soft and pampered and covered in fuck slime.
“Anything to please a Vatican bishop.”
“I do like to have my scrotum licked. Might I feel if your tongue is as soft as your hands?”
Father Paul sank to his knees before the Bishop and extended his tongue. He began to lap at the wrinkled sack of the older man.
“Oh...oh, my boy, your tongue is as soft as that of a nine-year-old. I think we can find a place for you at the Vatican!”
The young Polish priest could not help but smile. He lapped harder at the nut bag hanging before his handsome face.
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