Let The Church Say Amen

 “We church boys got a little freak in us, too, Brother Hercules,” preached Brother Willie C. Ammons of New Springfield Baptist Church sternly between deep intakes of foot funk from out of one of my size thirteen Stacy Adams dress shoes.

I still can’t wrap my head around it nor can I stress it out again:

Church was the last place on earth I ever suspected a grown-ass man like myself to be snatched up from.

It wasn’t being taken like some weak little punk that got my goat. Logic dictates that the best way to capture your prey is to get them at their most vulnerable. The mere fact ‘em church boys were the ones that pulled this shit off is what really got me! Religious goody two-shoes who drop to their knees in the name of Christ? Really?!?!

There I was minding my own freakin’ business and standing on my own two big black feet next to my wife and kids after another long-ass long-winded Wednesday night Bible Study when a couple of the brothers skillfully interposed me from my family with a generous invitation out to dinner. I was hesitant to go, but my born-again bride insisted on it, telling me I needed to stop being a loner caught between two worlds and walk with the brothers in the straight and narrow with God.

I was new to this whole church thing after spending the first thirty-eight years of my life bathing in hedonism. Old habits die hard. I started out way back in my late teens living off of gorgeous sugar mamas with low self-esteem and for kicks prowled the streets of New Medina taking the plump asses of some poor queer just ‘cause I could–and get away with it. Who in the hell was going to complain looking as phyne as I do? See, I don’t think I’m a big sexy motherfucker. It’s a fact! Standing here at six-three, two hundred and thirty pounds of rock-solid muscle with a shiny coal black dome and a menacing scowl across an otherwise strikingly handsome face.

It wasn’t only within the last year after the mother of three of my kids threatened to go after me for child support did I come around and get right. I may have married the bitch for all the wrong reasons, but I quickly grew fond of being her husband and a stable father to my kids and, in the meantime, tried to heed some wisdom by trying to stay on the straight and narrow by attending church with the family.

I already knew going in they weren’t the kind of people I was used to associating with anyway. I accepted and embraced I was going in being the oddball out of this small tight-knit group. I was just blown out the water to find out that practically every man in the congregation over the age of twenty-eight was a professional black man of some sort. Doctors, lawyers, accountants, bankers, policemen, firemen, teachers, athletes, retired athletes turned successful entrepreneurs and the like. It was the gamut of successful career-oriented men. And here I was, a man who spent the better part of my life coasting off my good looks, now getting my balls scratchy and sweaty as a shade-tree mechanic hauling junk on the side trying to cut a decent living for me and my line.

So I took one look at these straight-laced churchgoers and knew they secretly thought they were better than me with their big fine houses and fancy late-model cars. So I said forget it. I needed to work on getting the family thing right.

You know how the missus is. A wayward glance at one fine booty ho walking down the aisle and she’s trying to keep her man in check. And because my wife wasn’t stupid enough to believe she was going to always keep me at home, she was sneaky enough to try and steer me towards a new brand of associates, which she could always check in on as to always know my whereabouts.

“We can’t be that bad for a modest guy like you not to want to hang out with a bunch of boring Christian brothers like us, can we Brother Hercules?” asked Brother James Stallworth, a man of medium height and formidable jaw, after he peeled me away from my beautiful wife taking off with my kids in our rusty dusty pickup truck.

I didn’t appreciate the brother putting his arms around my shoulders. I let it go for the sake of argument, seeing he was my ride home from this late-night feast.

The last thing I remember wholly before my evening took its “interesting” turn was getting in the passenger seat of his car. Before I could even make myself comfortable, this mysterious hand appeared reaching around my head and held a faintly damp cloth over my mouth and nose.

“He’s coming to,” another voice reached over my shoulder to someone else behind me, out of sight, followed by another hard familiar sniff of dress shoe in the dark room lit by a single bulb over my head. “Man, do you know you got some sweet-smelling feet!”

“Um-hmmm,” Brother Willie hummed out-sniffing the other man. “Just the right blend of genuine leather and foot funk. It should be bottled up and made into some kind of cologne.”

Even though I was wide awake and free to move my mouth, I couldn’t respond. I was too busy biting my bottom lip trying to make sense of the inconceivable sensation, this knowing at the bottom of my feet. It was ticklish yes, but it was something else behind it, too. Something much more salacious as the spot behind my ball sac and in front of my asshole speckled quietly with this ecstatic energy I never felt before.

I wanted to ride this new feeling, give into it, and see what became of it. I quickly found my senses to overcome it looking down at my right leg stretched out under this man in a fedora with his arm around my knee slow stroking his long skinny dick while his other hand made nice with my foot at the bottom of my thin black church socks. I wanted to do everything in my power to tell him to stop but found the bottom of my other foot was also a victim to a similar assault. Except this other guy, who was also in a fedora, was leaning back with his squat dick in hand smothering his face against the arch of my foot.

I went to go swat them off just to find my wrists were bound to the ceiling above by this thick waxy white rope. I was free to kick from my seat on the rocking stool, but with one man having my legs on lock and another having such a sturdy grip on the back of my heel, it proved not to do much good.

“You’re not enjoying the pleasure of our company, Brother Hercules?” Brother James, my ride, asked timidly, turning his head to show his face behind the hat down my right leg.

I stopped shy of bursting with laughter and grumbled a groan as he steadily worked on my foot even more, managing to find the even keel to ask, “What the fuck kind of freakin’ freak show is this?!”

“Now, now, Brother Hercules,” the shoe-sniffing voice from over my shoulder spoke again. “There’s absolutely no need to use that kind of language in the House of the Lord.”

I was about to say more when I felt his strong, well-worked hand come over the collar of my unbuttoned dress shirt and undone tie to my exposed wife beater. He then stopped to make a grab for my beefy left pec before moving his hand over to my nipple.

With the flurry of sensitive nerves surging through my body with these bags of sensual feelings to boot, my breathing grew shallower knowing one hard tug of my tit tips could send me over the edge. I was just about cool in playing into their little sadistic game when I felt his hard dick charge against my back.

“Get your fucking hands off!” I screamed involuntarily.

The guy worked on my left foot with his face swiftly mashed the back of my Achilles tendon to the point that a small yelp escaped through my lips.

“What did the brother just finish telling you about using that bad language up in here, Brother Hercules?” The brother barked annoyed.

“I want him to get off of me!” I gritted through my teeth like a little boy put in his place.

He let go of the back of my ankle barely accepting that as my apology as he then decided to nibble at the sole of my foot nearest the toes.

The man behind me with his hand over my left pec quickly moved his fingers to play over my left nipple and squeezed it to the point it felt like a bead of cum jumped out of the end.

“Ohhhhhhrrrrrrrrrr, you shit!” I screamed venomously after the man twisted my nipple even harder.

The man on my left foot was ready to get on me about my cussing again before the man torturing me from behind spoke up. “Don’t worry about Brother Hercules here, Brother George. Back in my player days, I dealt with a number of nonbelievers that needed Lucifer cast out of them. This young buck ain’t much different.”

Young buck, I thought. The men scattered around me were roughly my age give or take a few years, so it would’ve been a stretch for any of them to call me a young buck at thirty-nine without some significant age on me.

“That doesn’t mean I suppose to like it, Brother Lee.” Brother George expressed in anger.

Brother Lee? Of course, it would be Brother Lee. I shook in both comfort and fear.

Behind being a legendary basketball player from back in the ‘60s and ‘70s turned community business leader with his fleet of car dealerships today, the upstanding sixty-two-year-old grandfather was the wingman next to Brother James in encouraging my wife to let me run off with them for the evening.

In fact, I was almost certain he was the one that sealed the deal for my naïve bride. Why wouldn’t he? He, too, was a hard ass back in his heyday, with his exploits of multiple orgies and drug binges making the paper before the days of the looming paparazzi. He turned his life around after turning it over to God. As a reward, he looked better than ever in his muscled-out frame donned in crashing waves of black and silver strands.

Brother Lee wasn’t going to risk his good fortune on a street runt like me, was something to the effect my wife must’ve thought when she let me go off with these church freaks. And with him vowing to keep me out of trouble and assuring her once again that he was on a mission to keep me on the straight and narrow was all the reassurance she needed.

“Just think about the bigger picture here, Brother George,” Brother Lee commanded, giving another jolting turn to my nipples that almost made me yelp out. “We’re here to convert the nonbelievers.”

Ultimately, Brother George got back to his nibbling duties on my left foot while his podiatry pal Brother James never missed a beat finding one ticklish spot after another against the bottom of my sole.

Oh, how I fought the urge to give in for about twenty-minutes. But it was hard not to crumble underneath the increased tickling and the extraordinary fingers of Brother Lee going back and forth twisting and pulling on both my poor nipples.

“Yeah, just let it out, son,” Brother Lee commented after some time against my moaning like a little punk. “It’s not shame in giving yourself to your fellow brother in Christ, Brother Hercules.”

I didn’t know what to make of the last statement. I just went with it.

Like I said before it was hard not to give in. Especially with everybody so highly content with what they were doing I thought it was just hot having them tie me down and take joy in the pleasure they were doling out to me.

“Ohhhh, m-m-man, w-w-hat’re-re f-f-f-fff you-u-u do-ing-g-g-g to me? You-r-r drivin-g me crazy-y-y with this sh-sh-sh…OHHHH!” I shuddered between euphoric heaves. I was raining in sweat fifteen minutes after the fact, once again riding this ecstatic energy now throbbing between my legs.

“I see it took a little less than an hour to break down our newest brother.” An anonymous voice lured from the dark corner with heavy footsteps.

In my heavenly bliss, I wrestled with the fact there had to be at least six other men around me: Brother James and Brother George working on my feet. Brother Willie singing sweet melody snorting the funk out of one shoe while Brother Lee pulled double duty shoe-sniffing the other Stacy Adams and tweaking my nipples with abandon with two other brothers behind him also sniffing shoes and socks like crackheads sniffing lines.

Where exactly this other man came into play or even entered the room completely baffled me. I wasn’t too worried, though, assuming he was a foot freak, too. And with one or the other bound to bust a nutt playing with my feet, I just assumed he was going to take over where the other one left off.

The mysterious man kept on fooling around behind the shadows before I saw the end of his dick jut into the light. For some odd reason, looking at another dick made me pay attention to my own. Because my hands were bound to the ceiling above, my head was lost in this tailspin of these foot fetish freaks and this weird thing going on at the seat of my pants, it didn’t even occur to me to look down, where I found my own vein-popping dick straining out of my opened fly with dribbles of nutt juice making its way down to my balls.

I knew this because once I was made aware that my dick was out in the open, I felt the coolness of the room and saw the cinderblocks that made the basement with crosses and church junk scattered about the darkness.

These freaks got me in the basement of the church!

I wasn’t so much alarmed by that as soon as I was pushed over the edge that one of those married down low freaks unzipped me. When did this happen? What did they do after it was done? Was that why I had these sensations with my prostate?

I was more than ready to go off on this motherfucker before me knowing everyone else was content with my size thirteen feet in one form or another. Even without seeing his face, I knew he was the oddball out, wanting a bit more from me than anything else.

“Who are you?” I asked angrily with his hard riled pork tenderloin-looking dick staring back at me.

The man slowly emerged from the dark shirtless with his dick hanging out of his dress pants. Even with his dress shoes on, he appeared much shorter than I expected with a goatee hanging long off his chin. Minus the short-trimmed beard, he looked mildly familiar. Not like from the congregation, but from someone I knew from time gone by.

“Why Brother Hercules, I’m glad you’ve decided to join us tonight.” He said with his hung and bass voice failing to match his sinewy redbone frame.

“It wasn’t like I had much of a choice, now did I?” I growled.

“Don’t you now, Brother Hercules?” He said plying tongue-and-cheek.

“Very funny, what the hell do you want?” I demanded, and after I got the words out I saw it was the choir director, Brother Quentin Stevens.

I had never seen the man up close before, only just behind the pulpit in his room with his back turned to the audience directing the group of wannabe crooners.

“Why in the hell you and your dick looking at me like that?”

“Brother Hercules, you know that a very phyne-looking brother like you have always excited me so.”

For about a brief second, something clicked in my head. I had dealt with Brother Quentin before this moment. I just couldn’t think of where or when or why?

 

“Always?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve poked around so much with that big ol’ thing that you can’t remember where you’ve poked it before.”

I looked Brother Stevens over again, coming out of his shoes with someone else creeping out the corner to retrieve them to start inhaling them as well.

“Let me give you a hint: Think back ten years ago to that house on the lake, under the deck.”

I thought back, but nothing came to mind. Then as I was about to ask him to be more specific, those old memories came flooding back.

Sweet piece of ass, I remembered well.

He was the first and the last piece of ass I ever spent money on solely for the purpose of sex. Of course, that was after I tagged that ass a couple of more times. He fattened my pockets in spades.

I got my hands on him just before his nineteenth birthday off the chat line. He was one of those frustrated virgins desperate to get his first fitting of dick. So, I gave it to him with the mistake of giving him my cell phone number whenever he needed another sexual fix. Like most young bucks with their noses wide open, he took it to mean I was his man. Maintaining my chill through his incessant calling, I thought I would push the envelope by soliciting him as the bottom for a couple of threesomes and foursomes I had in mind. In which he served.

With my then-girlfriend away on a long business trip, I got a hold of her credit card, took out a cash advance and transferred the money over to my account, and later went on an online shopping spree at this local leather store where I bought these matching sets of hand and ankle restraints. I honestly had no particular deviant plan in mind when I ordered other than I thought they looked cool. However, one lonely weekend at the lake house with a then-short and stout nineteen-year-old boy who didn’t know how to take a hint I got him in the restraints and hung him upside down on the underside of the deck. And with the help of a few paying “friends” and a few jars of Vaseline, we just decided to have a little fun that last a bit shy of seventy-two hours.

The blubbering bitch acted like he didn’t want it at first, squealing and crying like someone stole his toy. But he got into it after I opened him up real good. He loved getting his ass plowed so much he had the time of his life holding back all the nutt draining out of his gapping little butthole.

I almost forgot about the spider gag we slapped in his mouth and started face-fucking the poor sap like it was before we got the brilliant idea of using his mouth like a urinal, so we didn’t have to miss our turn using his ass.

“You know why you’re here, right?” Brother Quentin asked, much more muscular and leaner than the plump teenager that got fucked silly those years ago.

“I guess it’s my turn, huh?” I asked more like a man, more than ready to repent for my sins of yesteryears as I tried to suppress this need to laugh.

I wasn’t in the business of getting my shit pushed back in, but I quickly understood this wasn’t my revenge as it was his, and I’d be damn to apologize for helping him find his way to these freaks around me.

“No, my brother, I’ve turned the other cheek because you and I have found our paths to this place. Even though, I still have to live with the remnants of that weekend.”

He stepped out of his pants to reveal a harness in the place where his underwear should have been. When he went to take it off, a long slender butt plug with several different ridges was exposed.

“Damn,” I mouthed through the need to laugh with my feet becoming most sensitive with every touch through the socks.

“You see, Brother Hercules,” Brother Quentin said approaching me. “You’re right about what you said to me about our first night together.”

I wanted to ask what that was, but I was sure that he was going to tell me.

“Once a boy like me gets a taste of some good hard dick and some sweet cum,” Brother Quentin said, taking his finger against my runny dick and putting its gooey contents in his mouth. “We’ll come back for it again and again.”

“If you wanted some dick all you had to do was ask.”

“And what, let you invite your so-called friends over when I can easily have the backs of my brothers here that are equally as fond of your phyne ass as I am?”

I had to give Brother Quentin his credit, he was right. The “friends” I got to fuck him were just some horny bums I picked off the chat line whereas his brothers were the crème de la crème of the community.

“Well, then, I know you see a hard dick in front of you, so why don’t you get on your knees and do something about it?”

“Oh, Brother Hercules,” he smiled after he kissed me on the corner of my lips. “I see you’re still trying to run the show.”

I must say I was still a hair confused. I didn’t have time to form a question before Brother James stopped with my right foot and reached over to my chest and snatched the tie from around my collar.

“Oh, yeah,” he puffed. “I’m about to blow this nutt!”

A few seconds later, Brother James gave out this loud grunt and shot this super sperm that leapt in the air over to where his bare feet were tucked nearby. Brother James then proceeded to use my tie to wipe away the cum dripping onto his hand and the bit that got on his feet and dress pants.

“Hey! That’s a tie from the Donald Trump Collection!” I snapped a bit teed. A nice little payday gone down the drain.

“I’ll get you a new one, you crybaby,” he said, discarding my tie and my foot and the leg it was attached to like a used toilet tissue and got up from his seat on the floor. “I’ll be upstairs, if you need me.”

With my ride making his exit, Brother George over there nibbling on my left foot, stopped with the foot play, too. He reached up for my calf, pulled off my sock, and with his firm grip steady on my foot decided that his hand wasn’t enough and decided to put his dick between my big toe and second toe and started fucking the opening like it was pussy.

“Don’t you dare, fuck,” I growled, listening to him grunt like he was about to come.

“What I tell you about all that cussing up in here, Brother Hercules?” Brother George asked going for the back of my heel again.

My toes were getting sore the way he was forcing them apart with his stubby little monster. I was just used to his velvety skin against my sandpaper feet when Brother Lee tossed Brother Willie my other shoe and started twirling both nipples simultaneously.

“Oh, what the hell are you trying to do to me?” I asked of Brother Lee looking Brother Quentin in the eyes, leaking with more nutt.

“Don’t you know by now, Brother Hercules? Brother Lee said it best earlier. We’re making sure you give of yourself to your fellow brothers.”

I still wasn’t quite following. Then I felt the swelling of a dick between my toes and heard the gripe of a mad man before I felt the hot cream singed the front of my leg and the top of my foot.

“Oh, that’s just disgusting!” I mouthed, feeling like some used piece of foot-ass left to do the walk of shame.

I had just barely a second to sulk in my revulsion before Brother Quentin grabbed my pants leg and shucked them off me.

“What?” I said, believing Brother Quentin when he said he had turned the other cheek.

Brother Lee worked on my nipples once more causing another surge of pleasurable jolts from there, and when I came back to, I found a warm mouth suckling on my dick.

Brother Quentin teased me playfully by running his long tongue and full lips up and down the length of my shaft, and soon hungrily went for it. He proved himself a little too eager in the beginning, trying to take down the entire length with no thoughts to his gag reflexes. He had to keep them in check a few times over. Overall, however, he turned out to be a great cocksucker. No teeth whatsoever, scraping the sides of my fat dick along with the rare ability to breathe through his nose with no need to disengage. I felt my balls working overtime aching to unleash, but I wasn’t ready. Not ready. Not yet.

As I thought my evening couldn’t take any more of an usual turn, Brother Willie still sniffing my shoe came to the side of me and decided my pubes were the best place to squirt his load. It burned like hot hell. I was getting ready to cuss him out when he quickly did the oddest thing. Instead of getting his gunk off me, he got some kind of cloth and wiped down the foot Brother George came on and slid my sock and shoe back on, winking at me to keep on making that sweet foot funk of mine. This, all the while the other two men came simultaneously.

“Leave me be with the young brother.” Brother Lee warned those three, leaving Brother Quentin working on my dick.

They went upstairs. Probably no later than five seconds, I felt the hard dick charging against my back make its way over to my side before I saw it jutting out underneath my arm. For the first time since everything got started I got scared, even more when Brother Lee decided to climb up on the rungs of my stool to present his foreskin dick in my face. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to know what he wanted. I called it “blasphemous” citing we were in the “House of the Lord” where he wanted me to perform this “vile” act.

“I don’t know about you, Brother Hercules, but I like to freak my woman in bed. We ain’t lying down to do this.” Brother Lee growled, slapping my face with his hefty dick underneath his big belly. “It’s called respecting your Christian elder, brother…just like I’m respectin’ you.” He said taking a hard sniff of my other shoe again then shoving it under my nose.

I was reluctant to do such a thing. It was my feet. I knew what they smelled like, but after awhile of holding my breath, I was desperate for air. Even though it smelt like leather and socked feet to me, my foot funk wasn’t so bad. It wasn’t all that great either, but it wasn’t all that bad.

“Inhale deep,” Brother Lee mouthed jerking his dick. After I obliged him, he took the shoe under his nose.

He switched from me to him to me and back again before he put it back under his nose, rubbing his precummy dick on my lips and spewed a deluge on the side of my neck.

It burned hot like fuck, which sent a major jolt down my spine to my penis engulfed in the warm mouth taking care of it.

“Ohhh, you Bible-humpin’ mofos! I hate you! I-I hate you!! I-I-I h-h-hate all yyyooouuuuu no good mmmoooffffooosss!!! Ahhhh!” I groaned sucking my teeth and grunted fervently as I felt this heavily experience wash over me casting out all my demons and I shot a bucket of cum into Brother Quentin’s ready mouth, soulfully swallowing every drop.

I passed out immediately thereafter, drained of all of my common and uncommon senses.

When I came back to, I was laid out in front of my house on the swing under the porch light cleaned and dressed. As I made it over to the front door, I found myself quite excited about the Sunday coming up because I was ready to let the church say amen!

Author’s Note: This story was greatly inspired by a commissioned piece drawing by Belasco (the finished piece posted Tues. May 16 2006, http://www.belasco-comix.com/2006_05_14_archive.html with an earlier sketch found on Sat. May 13 2006 on the same site)