Growing up as a pastor's kid never bothered me until my senior year of high school. Until then I accepted my fate and played the game. It was on the day after my 18th birthday that my world flipped over into a reality that I thought could never existed. As usual the normal Saturdays around the house were like a setting for the Cleavers in the old TV show "Leave it to Beaver". My father, Curtis Wooden was out on home visits helping the elderly members of the congregation. He claimed it to be his mission directed from God.
My mom, Desiree Wooden, being the perfect pastor's wife, made herself busy scheduling all the upcoming Sunday events. As for me, the dutiful son always obedient to my parent's wishes, I was appointed to mow the neighbors' lawns -- without payment. My dad insisted it was the right thing to do for others.
Our home appeared as perfect as my mom's roses growing along a pristine white picket fence. The quaint blue house nestled on a quiet street in the suburbs showcasing a peaceful abode without arguments and stress. Or at least one would think so standing on the outside or attending my parent's church.
I left the house around 8:30 to cut Mr. Murphy's lawn four houses down the block when I saw paramedics carrying him out of his house to an ambulance. He had been a widower for 20 something years. From where I stood he appeared to be okay, but still he was a good 85 years old and a little over weight. An oxygen mask covered his mouth and nose. As I walked closer, he looked up and waved to me giving a thumb up. I quickly text my dad that he should head for the hospital to help comfort Mr. Murphy. As the ambulance drove away I entered the old man's garage by a side door to pull out his lawn tools.
That's when I heard a box fall down onto Mr. Murphy's dryer in the utility closet followed by a groan. Knowing he lived alone, I quickly grabbed a hammer and opened the door to the utility room.
"What the..." I said.
There stood my father dressed in a lacy thong, black stockings, blonde wig and heavy makeup.
"I can explain..." he stammered.
My dad, the pastor, is not a big man. Matter-of-fact, he is only 5'4", 145 pounds and slender. What we have in common is our build and the family hand me down "bubble butts". The one major exception is that his dick was much smaller than mine. He stood there frightened like a church mouse with a 3 inch hard-on which shrank in my presence into a tiny flesh cap. Here we definitely differ from one another. My own dick, when hard, is well over 11 inches and very thick -- think of a soda can and you have my girth. As a pastor's son I often got bored sitting alone in my room. And being a good student in wood shop, I am at home with rulers. So, I secretly measured my cock over the years.
As if by a reflex, still holding my phone, I snapped several pictures of my dad. Such is my generation to first capture a chaotic moment rather than offer a helping hand. I was not foreign to porn sites by any means. Sure my parents locked down the computers, in a rush to protect me from the sins of the outside world, but they never considered the power of cell phones. Over the last year since my rise to adulthood, porn sites have been my refugee. I loved straight, gay, incest, bi-sexual, kinky transsexuals and more. If it's legal I am in.
As I stood there watching my father, I had to ask. "Does mom know?"
He woke up from his state of shock as if to see me really for the first time. "What... what?"
"Mom... does mom know about you," I repeated putting the hammer down onto a shelf to free my hands.
"No, God no... She must never know, son", he said.
Then I realized something very strange. I was hard. Hard as nails seeing my sissy father, the hell fire preaching Pastor, dressed like a cheap slut. And I noticed him staring at my tented baggy shorts.
I unzipped my shorts and freed my huge hard cock. His eyes grew in total disbelief. And as if something automatic took over his tongue flicked outwards and licked his lips.
"Turn around and face the wall, Dad," I said.
His mouth opened wide. "Why?"
"Shut the fuck up and do it!"
He slowly turned around. His bubble butt was red and bruised from a recent spanking. I took more pictures. His ass cheeks were shiny from what appeared to be a mixture of lube and cum.
"So you're the reason old man Murphy was sent to the hospital. Fucking! You were taking it up the ass. You fucking hypocrite," I said.
He turned his head and said, "He forced me, son," paused and then said, "he was trying to fuck me, but I was too tight and he only came on my ass crack.... then fainted before he got his dick in me."
"Liar," I said.
"Okay, I wanted to, and... he tried to fuck me, but.... He couldn't get into my tight asshole... I'm a virgin back there. Ugh this is so shameful of me," he explained.
"Not even a little? Not even his dick head?" I asked rubbing my fingers across his ass. "He is an 85 year old man... can he even get it up, Dad?"
"And yes I wanted his dick, but..." He whimpered. My dad looked at me and said, "You can't tell anyone it's a sin to spread gossip, son."
"You must be joking," I laughed. "Explain how this happened, or I send these pictures to your holy flock."
"Please... don't do that." He took a deep breath and sighed. I saw the defeat in his expression. "Yes, he can get hard, a little. He has an average dick, maybe 6 or 7 inches, but very thick," He said looking at my huge cock, "Certainly not as big as yours."
"And he still couldn't get it in," I smirked as dad quivered with embarrassment.
I kicked off my shoes, shorts, underwear, and tossed aside my t-shirt. My hard cock stood straight out like a steel rod.
"What are you planning to do?" he asked in a panic.
"I am gonna fuck you, dad." I said switching my phone to video and placed it on the shelf next to the hammer to film everything.
He never noticed it.
"You can't," he whispered as if someone was listening.
"I can and I will, but first tell me how this all started," I said.
"It is so sinful... please don't ask me to tell you," he sobbed.
I grabbed his bubble-butt and dug my fingers into his flesh. He cried out in pain.
"Okay... don't hurt me," he began. "Last month, I planned to meet up with David, Mr. Murphy, to make a health check. I let myself in and called out to him. There was no answer. Worried, I searched the house and found him in the spare bedroom fucking Joe Bennett. You know the plumber at McNeil's hardware?"
"Fuck, Jerry's father? Jerry and I've been friends forever." I remarked. "I would have never guessed it."
"David had Joe face down on the bed and was pounding his hairy fat ass," my dad said and then continued. "Joe screamed for him to fuck him harder and harder. I was so dazed I started to masturbate at the bedroom door. Then David saw me and motioned me to kneel down next to him."
"And..." I grabbed his hips.
He froze and grew silent.
