Under Father Jakob’s guidance, I’ve (Bastian Karim) learned that within the brotherhood of priests, supporting each other extends beyond spiritual needs, often embracing physical desires. My first encounter with Father Jakob was a revelation, almost spiritual in its intensity. I never thought the church would accept my desires for men, let alone make them a core part of my spiritual journey. Initially, I sought priesthood to escape or resist these feelings, but now they are central to my devotion.
I’m unsure if Father Jakob spoke to Father Ruslan Angelo about me, but soon after my experience with Father Jakob, Father Angelo began showing interest in me. Initially, it was casual check-ins, then small acts of affection—a pat on the shoulder, a hug. This progressed to offering advice and a sympathetic ear, repeatedly assuring me that his door was always open.
Once we were alone, his true motives became clear. Father Angelo sought more than spiritual comfort; he wanted physical satisfaction. Thanks to Father Jakob, I was somewhat prepared, but still caught off guard. Father Angelo is undeniably handsome, and it’s not surprising that he draws admiration.
Responding to Father Angelo’s needs was far from a sacrifice; it was a pleasure so intense it almost felt sinful. He always approaches me late in the evenings, under the guise of spiritual communion. However, it’s not long before he’s undressing me, his hunger for my body undeniable. He becomes a whirlwind of lust, reducing me to a helpless, whimpering figure in his grasp. We tell ourselves this is mutual comfort for our devotion, but in truth, it’s raw, primal fucking—a testosterone-fueled rutting like possessed animals.
Father Angelo consumes my body, my cock, my ass. He devours me like I’m his last meal, fucking my hole with his fingers before pushing me to my knees to fuck my face until I can barely breathe. Then he turns me around and thrusts his cock into my hole, his stamina seemingly endless. I’m transported to another realm where only his cock and my hole exist, plunging into me repeatedly.
He fucks me until I come, my seed gushing over my hands and balls. He won’t find his release until I do. Though I wish he would plant his seed deep inside me, he prefers to pull out and cum on my face. With my mouth wide open, I try to capture every drop of his holy essence on my tongue. Even in confession, I can’t admit that swallowing Father Angelo’s seed brings me closer to the divine than holy communion ever could.
Catholic Boys
ALTAR BOY BASTIAN Chapter 2 – Nighttime Vigils
Under Father Jakob’s guidance, I’ve (Bastian Karim) learned that within the brotherhood of priests, supporting each other extends beyond spiritual needs, often embracing physical desires. My first encounter with Father Jakob was a revelation, almost spiritual in its intensity. I never thought the church would accept my desires for men, let alone make them a core part of my spiritual journey. Initially, I sought priesthood to escape or resist these feelings, but now they are central to my devotion.
I’m unsure if Father Jakob spoke to Father Ruslan Angelo about me, but soon after my experience with Father Jakob, Father Angelo began showing interest in me. Initially, it was casual check-ins, then small acts of affection—a pat on the shoulder, a hug. This progressed to offering advice and a sympathetic ear, repeatedly assuring me that his door was always open.
Once we were alone, his true motives became clear. Father Angelo sought more than spiritual comfort; he wanted physical satisfaction. Thanks to Father Jakob, I was somewhat prepared, but still caught off guard. Father Angelo is undeniably handsome, and it’s not surprising that he draws admiration.
Responding to Father Angelo’s needs was far from a sacrifice; it was a pleasure so intense it almost felt sinful. He always approaches me late in the evenings, under the guise of spiritual communion. However, it’s not long before he’s undressing me, his hunger for my body undeniable. He becomes a whirlwind of lust, reducing me to a helpless, whimpering figure in his grasp. We tell ourselves this is mutual comfort for our devotion, but in truth, it’s raw, primal fucking—a testosterone-fueled rutting like possessed animals.
Father Angelo consumes my body, my cock, my ass. He devours me like I’m his last meal, fucking my hole with his fingers before pushing me to my knees to fuck my face until I can barely breathe. Then he turns me around and thrusts his cock into my hole, his stamina seemingly endless. I’m transported to another realm where only his cock and my hole exist, plunging into me repeatedly.
He fucks me until I come, my seed gushing over my hands and balls. He won’t find his release until I do. Though I wish he would plant his seed deep inside me, he prefers to pull out and cum on my face. With my mouth wide open, I try to capture every drop of his holy essence on my tongue. Even in confession, I can’t admit that swallowing Father Angelo’s seed brings me closer to the divine than holy communion ever could.