PEDO PRIEST CONFESSION COLLECTION 02

By DannyR  (MMM/bbb, M/t, b/b, oral, anal, incest, ws, extreme pedo, racial epithets)
Copyright 2011.  All rights reserved.


Authors Reminder:  Dont forget that inquiring authors want to know -- what did you think?  So when youre done, put your fingers to a  dried-off, cleaned-up keyboard and start by typing:  dr_harris_81@hotmail.com.

DISCLAIMER:  Some folks apparently have trouble distinguishing between fantasy and reality.  This story is a fantasy.  It didnt happen.  Never will.  And anyone who attempts to do in real life all or any of the things depicted in the story needs to be hanged, then drawn and quartered, and then turned over to the cops for the harshest penalties the law allows. After that, well, hopefully everything Law and Order and the news say is true about child molesters in prison, is really true.  Now that were clear on whats what, and whats not, read on.

SPECIAL NOTE:  This damned series is taking over my fucking life. The opening lines popped into my head as I was waking up this morning, and I spent a good part of the day writing the story.  Took a break, though, after I came so damned hard about two-thirds through. Hope you enjoy it as much as I did.

PEDO PRIEST CONFESSION COLLECTION 02

Am I a pussy boy, father?

Fuck, yes! I shouted, but I carefully kept the shout inside my head. Instead, I said, Now why would you ask a question like that, my son?

The boy went off on a tangent instead of answering that very important question.  Is it really true that if I tell you somethin you cant tell no one what I say?

Yes, my son.

Even if we aint, uh, arent in the confessional?  He looked around at my small office at the back of the church, then back across the desk at me.

Of course, my son. The confessional is only for those who want to confess their sins to the Lord, without the priest knowing who they are, since our Heavenly Father will know. Though I always knew who was on the other side of that little window.

The boy looked around again, absent-mindedly reaching around his big belly and doing something with his crotch.  Squeezing, groping, scratching, I couldnt quite tell.  The little shit was standing too close to my desk. Then he looked back at me.  Bless me, father, for I have sinned.  Its been nine....

Wait, my son, just a moment. You dont have to stand. Youd be sitting in the confessional, wouldnt you?

What choice did the boy have but to agree?

I gestured toward the chair with the soft cushions, and as he settled into it, he leaned back and spread his legs, just as the special design encouraged him to do. I came around my desk, sat in the chair opposite him. A plain wooden chair.  So much easier to get out of, to get on my knees in front of.... But I had made a vow, a promise. No more. But that couldnt stop the instant-image memories.

Naked Emilio, a hot Mexican twelve year old, pumping his very first seed down into my mouth as he writhed on two fingers in his cunt. Then obediently, knowing what was due to God and the good priest, hed stood up, turned around and leaned over, so he could exchange fingers for long, thick father cock. But that was years ago. Hes eighteen now, with a three year old boy, Jorge.

My cock plumped up as I recalled sitting in that very chair, the robes I wear for Mass open, my cock buried up the seven year old cunt of Jamal, whose four inch hairless cock jutted straight out as he writhed and slammed himself up and down, begging me to tell him what a fine nigger slut he was. His fifteen year old brother was a slender, effeminate, long-dicked rent boy who whored himself out to white men wanting talented nigger boy pussy. Jamals idol. He wanted to follow in his brothers knee-pads. And he was indeed a fine nigger pussy. Not yet as good as his brother in either hole, but working very hard on my hardon to improve.

I gave myself a mental slap upside the head. Willed my not-wanting-to-cooperate cock to soften.  Now, my son, who said you were a pussy boy?

The man in the toilet.

Christ. What toilet?

In the park. He glanced to his right.  Yes, there was a park in that direction, next to the church. A surprisingly large municipal park for a city this size. With a square cinderblock building fairly close to the church, surrounded by trees and large bushes with well-worn, but almost invisible unless you knew where they were, trails and tiny open spaces just large enough for a cocksucker to get on his knees and do you. The mayor blamed the economy and necessary budget cuts for the fact that that area of the park was so overgrown, that the two toilet rooms were rarely cleaned. Not that a woman ever went into their side of the building. No woman would ever sit on either of the two toilets, the odds against made even greater by the fact the stall doors had been removed. And the smell.

But men who wanted to be of service to other men had no problems sitting there, half naked, all naked, waiting to be of use. Especially for piss play.  By some unspoken agreement, since there were no signs put up by the park department, the womens side was the place for pissing. Yet another reason women would not be using the place. The smells were heavenly. And if you were soaked in piss, and there was no one else to piss on or in you, it was only a short walk through the woods to the church parking lot, so you wouldnt have to trek through the park and see all the horrified stares to get to the main gates.

I could always tell when the toilets were active by the number of cars and trucks in the church lot.  Even on Sundays, after noon Mass, there were always a few cars still in the lot, even though the church was empty. It seemed a logical progression to me. On your knees to pray, then on your knees to suck cock.

My brief detour down mental memory lane had made the boy impatient. Dont you wanna hear my sins, father?

Not particularly. I was more interested in the man in the park toilet, and the pussy boy remark. Even though some man had called him a pussy boy, it aint necessarily so. And if it was true, there was still my promise. Like the fucking raven said, Never more.  Besides, how many sins could angelic, fat, eight year old Lloyd Ackermann, the son of the new city attorney, actually have? 

Quite a lot, it appeared.

When I gave him my best of course, my son lie, Lloyd sighed, and started over. 

It had been nine days since his last confessions, both on the day he and his father arrived in town. Little Lloyd must have been very special to his parish priest in San Diego, for the man to stay up so late, just to hear his confession in an out-of-the-way broom closet at the airport before boarding the red-eye. The only sin he had to confess at that point, though, was his daddy sucking his dickie and playing with his tits before they left the house. By the time the priest who happened to be on the plane, or at least, he looked like a priest, heard his confession in the toilet, little Lloyd had been sucked by his daddy right there in his seat, with the flight attendant watching, groping his bulging crotch, and Lloyd had been a good boy, and hadnt made a sound when he had his tingles.

Naturally he had to suck his daddy off next, enjoying the fact that he made his daddy moan out loud, so much that they just froze, but it was dark in first class, and there was only one other man, and he was still sleeping, so his daddy had pushed his head down and fucked his face until he came. As he wiped his cock clean, he generously offered the boys mouth to the flight attendant, who apparently hesitated for only a tiny fraction of a second before unzipping and hauling out a short, slender, big-knobbed dick. Lloyd knelt on the seat, balancing himself with his right hand on the back of the seat in front, while the flight attendant stood in the aisle, aware of the danger, aware that at any moment a crew member could come by, the other man would wake up, a pushy passenger from coach would part the curtains and see the attendant holding the head of a fat little boy while he frantically pumped his hips, his head tilted down so he could see his slick cock sliding in and out of those fat lips until the flight attendants hot seed joined his daddys down in the boys belly. He had then quickly zipped up and went aft.

I had had some concerns about how well Charles Ackermann would fit into the, ah, culture of our fair city, as his arrival had been heralded with several major gusts of the winds of change. Corruption cleanup, family values, morality in government, and all that. His predecessor had been that way, too. It was unfortunate, that heart attack in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. He probably would have survived the beating from the never-caught muggers, although it was questionable how effective a public official he would have been once word spread that he was attacked late at night in a part of town well known to law enforcement, and just about everyone else as well, as being a haven for prostitutes. Or more correctly in that location, hustlers. And, too, word would inevitably have spread that semen had been found in his rectum and his mouth.  From three men. I suspect there were actually four loads, given that the body was in the morgue over night, and the night attendant has some...unusual...perversions, but the coroner has his own so the official version was only three. All that would have been a major hit to his family values image, so the heart attack was actually a good thing.

His wife, not surprisingly, claimed that he had been lured there with a promise of information about government corruption. No one believed her, and any who might have, clenched assholes and lips tight and said nothing. But she was persistent.  However, things changed when the mayor explained that the city had a quarter million dollar life insurance policy on her husband. Of course, if she was absolutely certain about the phone call her husband had described, clearly there would have to be an intensive investigation into the charges, which would naturally hold up the insurance payout, perhaps forever, as murder was not covered.  But if, on the other hand, in her understandable grief, she had been confused, had remembered incorrectly....  The confused, grieving, and moderately wealthy widow was soon on her way to the Caribbean.  The mayors slush fund was lighter, but donations would come in to replenish it, and the powers that be breathed easier.

That mistake had clearly not been made again.

This time around, the hurricane of change was obviously going  to turn out to be gentle spring zephyrs. The mayor had to know how well Mr. Ackermann was going to fit in, or he wouldnt have been hired. I wondered for a second why he hadnt told me the good news, but then realized that the only time Id seen him since the Ackermanns arrived he wasnt talking. He was on his knees in the park, I was pissing in his mouth and there was a line waiting to use the urinal.

Little Lloyd was so hot sitting in my special chair, his red lips which would be so much more red, so much more plump, if they were freshly fucked, spewing all that filth.

I was also somewhat surprised that an obviously hardcore pedo like Mr. Ackermann had failed to teach his little boy a very important lesson.  In this day and age, you dont allow your son to confess to a Catholic priest that you are molesting him frequently, and sharing him with other men.  We do, after all, have a moral and legal duty to do our own confession...to the police.  Id like to believe that as an old-fashioned Catholic I would honor the sanctity of the confessional even if I wasnt a pedo with my own secrets to keep, but since I was, the moral issue was moot.

I was hard, of course, as he started to tell me about the second confession that day. Even a conservative Southern Baptist minister head of the local tea party chapter would get hard at the boys story. And Mel would, indeed, when I told him. But I did nothing.  I had made a promise, and I was going to keep it.

Even though fat little boys, with fat titties I could fondle and squeeze, and rub my thumbs over the nipples and get them all pointy and hard to go along with the pointy and hard dickie, were my special temptation.  I should have removed myself from temptation. Stopped the confession. Told him to leave.

I didnt.

His daddy went to sleep but he was still wide awake, so he went exploring. But first he had to dress for exploring. He took off his shoes and socks, and his trousers and his shirt, and then in just his underwear he was ready. He padded barefoot over to the other man in first class, whose chair was tilted way back. He was asleep. His hand was on his thigh, right next to a very nice bulge. Lloyd almost reached out to touch it, but he didnt.

Instead he went through the curtains and walked down the aisle toward the back. The flight wasnt full and everyone he saw was asleep.  He wondered if the flight attendant would want another blowjob. He found him back in what the boy called the kitchen, talking to another flight attendant, who had just whispered, Ya gotta be shittin me when Lloyd, undies, pointy nips, little stiffie and all came around the corner.

The first flight attendants whisper back, with a nod to the boy, Does that look like Im shitting you? was more than a little smug I would guess. The second attendant wanted to take slutty Lloyd into the toilet for privacy, but the first wanted to watch. Besides, the risk of getting caught was a fucking turn on.

When the second attendant hauled out a large uncut cock that he stroked to full hardon immediately, Lloyds Oh, I like nigger meat, was a shock, which might have killed the moment and maybe the kid. But the second attendant just said, And I like feedin my big ol fat nigger meat to little white whore boys. Which he proceeded to do.

He fucked the boys face fast and hard, forcing his cock all the way into the boys throat, ignoring the choking, whispering harsh obscenities until he finally shoved deep and began pumping out a seemingly endless load while the boy struggled. When he was done, he eased up and Lloyd could breathe again, but the first attendant had his dick out and had been jacking through the hot nigger man white boy mouth fuck.

Cmon, man, let him go. Gonna cum. Need his fuckin mouth on my meat.

The nigger attendant, as I couldnt help but imagine him, instead turned the boy around, moved him close to the red cock knob glistening with precum and told his friend to seed the sluts face.  The attendant did, spurting into the boys hair, his forehead, his cheek, and then forcing his dick into the boys mouth for the last shot. The two attendants stood there with their sated dicks hanging out, and when Lloyd reached up to wipe his face, the nigger stopped him. Uh-uh, slut. You go back to yo daddy jes lahk that n show him what a cum slut you are.

That was fine with Lloyd. His daddy liked to lick fresh cum off his face, whether his own or someone elses.

But his daddy was still asleep, so he decided to check out the other man. Who was awake. I suspect his eyes widened with shock at the sight of a fat little boy, just in his undies, with a cum-covered face and well-fucked-looking lips. The shock undoubtedly grew when the boy said, Are you a priest? You look like a priest. Would you like to hear my confession? Ive got lots to confess. The latter was undoubtedly said with great pride.

From the boys description of the mans face: (a) the man had been awake while Lloyd was sucking cock across the cabin, and (b) the man was not in fact a priest, but certainly willing to go along.  Just not out in public.  Perhaps the first class toilet could serve as a confessional?  Fine with slut Lloyd.

Once in the toilet, which was just slightly larger than the ones in coach, with the stranger seated on the toilet his pants and briefs at his ankles, jacking a short fat cock, the boy told him it had been three hours since his last confession and that hed committed six mortal sins since then. Hed let his daddy suck his dickie and give him tingles, hed sucked his daddys cock, hed sucked the flight attendants cock, hed sucked the nigger flight attendants cock, hed let the first attendant cum on his face, and hed played with his own stiff dickie.  Which he promptly showed to the jacking stranger.

The man was nervous, his voice was shaking, but he reached out (not very far of course, given the tight quarters) and began playing with the boys little hardon. I knew its exact shape and dimensions because the boy had opened his pants and pulled cock and balls out and was stroking that same stiffie while he told me all about the plane ride.  The man had then asked if all he did was suck.

A very smart pedo, even if he was a neophyte. If you have a chance to get your cock in young boy cunt, instead of his mouth, go for it. The latter is good, but the former is so much better.

Lloyd nodded. You wanna fuck my cunny?

The man had licked his lips and nodded.  The boys daddy had lubed him up just before they boarded, and there was probably some of that left, but Lloyd liked spit fucks, too, so he bent forward, braced his hands on the priests hairy thighs and licked and slurped until he got the meat fairly slimy. He stepped out of his undies while the priest peeled off his tee. Then he clambered up on the mans lap, straddled him, and while the man held his cock in place, got his pussy lips seated, relaxed, and sank down.

I am sure the mans Thank you, Lord when his cock was fully in fat boy bottom was fervent and heartfelt.  The little slut took over, so all the man had to do was go along for the ride as Lloyd raised and lowered himself, working the mans cock all the way in, making sure it touched his special boy spot and gave him tingles. He would have preferred a longer fuck, but nervous neophytes tend to cum fast inside little boy bottoms. But that was okay, since hed gotten some more tingles out of it anyway.

He was standing there, bent over, cleaning the cum and ass slime off the mans cock when there was a tap on the door, and his daddy asked, You in there, son?

Although he knew he wasnt supposed to talk with his mouth full, Lloyd managed a sort of grunted agreement. Before the man could stop him he lifted his head, twisted and unlocked the door. I am sure the boyfucker on the airplane toilet seat was terrified at the sight of the just-fucked boys fully dressed father standing there, looking at his naked son and the half naked man with the now limp dick.  Even though he knew that same daddy had been sexing his boy and giving him to the flight attendant only a little while ago.

I confessed to the nice priest, daddy, n then he fucked my cunny.  See?

Lloyd leaned forward again, this time spreading his fat butt cheeks. His daddy dropped to one knee to get a better look at the oozing cum and juices. He winked at the boy fucker, shoved two fingers into his boys slimy cunny, pulled them out and then licked them clean with another wink.

Son, why dont you get up there and let the nice priest suck your dickie? Daddy wants a taste of your cunny, too.

Lloyd being the fine slut he is, did as he was told. So did the man.  Who was probably surprised to discover that a taste meant daddy wanted his dick in his boys cunt. It would never have worked if theyd all be in the toilet with the door shut, but then, two and a half men wouldnt have fit.

His daddy unzipped, hauled his cock out, bent his knees to get in position and then with most of his body still out the door, shoved his cock into Lloyds shitter and started fucking.  I wanted to grab the little whore right then, yank his pants down and bury my meat, too.  But I didnt. Not even when he described how many tingles he got while his daddy fucked him.

Or when he described the first flight attendants fuck after his daddy was done, and theyd just decided to say fuck it and bend the boy over a seat. Or how hard the nigger fucked him.
Or the co-pilot, whod been alerted to the available boy pussy by the flight attendants. Or the straight grandfather pilot whod never touched another male, but had apparently gotten hard over the co-pilots enthusiasm about incredibly hot, tight kid cunt, and left the co-pilot at the controls while he sampled his first little boy.

I admit I almost lost control myself when, at the end of the mid-air gangbang, daddy ate all the accumulated cum out of his cunt. I absolved him of those sins, though, and figured that was that.

My calculations were off. 

Way fucking off.

Slut boy had actually lost track of the mortal sins hed committed over the past eight days, and since confession requires accuracy to obtain forgiveness, he had to think very hard to bring everything back.  Sex with his daddy a dozen times, seven in his mouth, five in his cunt. Once with the district attorney and his assistant, Jack McCoy, which hed particularly liked, since they fucked him at both ends and kept switching places before tossing a coin to decide who got to cum where.  Then hed helped his daddy fuck the mayor, getting his dickie sucked while daddy long dicked the mayors man cunt, after which lucky little Lloyd fisted the mayor, getting his arm up inside almost to his shoulder, while the mayor sucked another cum out of daddy and then drank down daddys piss.  God but our mayor is a fucking bottom slut.

He finally got around to the man in the park toilet.

His daddy took him there this first time, just like his daddy always did.  Checking to make sure it was a place where he could be molested safely and thoroughly, even if his daddy couldnt be around. It was, unfortunately, almost completely inactive, except for a tall, slender, silver-haired man who was just leaving the womens side when Lloyd and his daddy arrived.  The man stopped, and just followed them in to the mens side.  It didnt take long for the two pedos to recognize each other. We know these things. Of course, the fact that Lloyd went into one of the doorless stalls, pulled his pants and undies down, and sat on the filthy stool, playing with his stiffie, might have moved matters along.

The old man turned out to be an excellent fucker of little boy mouths, but was more interested in boy pussy. Lloyd and his daddy were glad to oblige. The boy obediently bent over the toilet, inhaling the glorious smells as the olds veiny, uncut meat, slimed up with spit, impaled him and made the slut shout.  The adults smiled knowingly at each other.  The old man asked his daddy if the boy had been fucked recently, as he recognized the slickness of another mans cum well up in the boys hole. Daddy admitted that he had fucked the boy quickly, to take the edge off, before they came to check the toilet.

Oh, yes, and his school principal had fucked the kid before he went home.

The old man had just kept right on fucking, explaining that he, too, had had his edge taken off. A friend, he told daddy, had supplied him with a delightful, if he did not mind the expression, nigger slut. Just six years old.  Daddy didnt mind at all. He had a thing for niggers, big nigger bucks to fuck him senseless, rough nigger thugs for daddy to fuck, tiny nigglets to molest over and over. The old man smiled and just kept on a steady, powerful fuck, explaining he was only in town briefly, had acquired a taste for nigger child pussy with a baby boy in Las Vegas, and now he was en route back to Rome, but had stopped for a brief visit with a friend. The same friend who had supplied the nigger whore. In fact, in return for the gift of the boys pussy, and such a talented pussy it was, if daddy would trust him with a telephone number, the old man would arrange to have his friend supply him with the little nigger.  Daddy was clearly no dummy and agreed.

Fucking bastard. His fucking Eminence, Enrico fucking Cardinal Bertinelli, who was supposed to be in his hotel safely worn out from using Jamals youngest brother, but was instead cruising park toilets. And getting pedo laid in them as well. And the old man volunteered me as the city attorneys fucking pimp.

My son, did this old man fuck you well?

Oh, yes, father.

Did he cum in your pussy? The boy nodded.  And did your daddy fuck you, too, out in the park toilet? He nodded again. And did the old man suggest that you come to me for your confession? A third nod.

How long ago, my child?

Right before I came over here.

Well, shit. The boy was sprawling there, his pants open, jacking his stiffie and his fat cunt was full of cum. Shit, shit, shit!

I knew better, but I had to ask.  Did he tell you anything else?

Well, he said that if you werent already dicking me by the time you found out about him, I should do this.

Slut Lloyd stood up and unbuttoned his shirt, holding it wide for a moment so I could get a good look at his fat boy titties, then turned around, spread his cheeks to show me his freshly-fucked, slightly bruised pussy lips and squeezed a few drops of slightly brownish slime out. The aroma of boy pussy and cum filled the room.

I promised. No more.  But apparently I lied.  Pedos do that; were so fucking good at it.

I stood up, too, and shoved my wool slacks, and cotton boxers down to my ankles. The boy, looking over his shoulder, gasped.

I am, you see, or rather you cant see, but you can picture it in your minds eye. Im uncut and fucking hung, long and damned thick when its just hanging down, longer and a damned sight thicker when the blood pumps and it gets primed. It tends to be difficult to get my meat into a boys pussy, and its usually painful.

Fuck em. 

And I will. Starting with the fat little boy with the well-fucked bottom right in front of me. His scream as I pushed the first six inches past his pussy lips and into his bowels, feeling the walls spread and spread, was music to my ears. And hardening for my cock. The last four inches were more difficult, but I managed, though poor Lloyd was whimpering and then crying when my hairless groin touched his butt cheeks.

Youre a fucking whore, arent you, Lloyd?

Y...yes, fa...oh fuck, yes father.

Had any bigger dicks inside this cunt?

N...n...no, father. Oh father, please, it hurts!

I fucked him harder.  He cried more.  I enjoyed it more.  So he and his daddy enjoyed niggers? I knew a couple who were bigger than me and really enjoyed rough fucks. Especially of white men and little white boys.

I pounded him harder and felt him go into a series of heaving dry cums. Christ, but I love fucking boy cunt thats been well slimed by a bunch of men before me. But as I started to get into power fucking the wailing fat boy, the consequences of breaking my promise hit me.

Fuck, fuck, fuck and triple fuck! Id have to start writing reports for fucking Rome again.

But first, I was going to finish this fuck. And then call Emilio while I rested up for another round, and arrange for him to come over. A hot hung Latin bottom at eighteen wasnt too old to fuck, especially not if he brought his three year old along so little Jorge could start learning how to get long, very thick priest meat into his cunt.

I began spewing my seed into the boys bowels.  Goddamn but its good to be a priest.
