Pedophiles At Church

©2009 Herb Cat. Do not reproduce or distribute this story without the author's permission.

As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herbcatwriter@yahoo.com. Thank you.

.oOo.
Part 3

The next couple days are a whirlwind of activity with all the arrangements needing to be made. Ginny thinks they should get a minister to conduct the service. A decade ago, when she was pregnant with Frankie, they attended a wedding at the local Methodist church, and on that basis alone decide to give Rev. Wakefield a call.

Friday afternoon the whole family walks into the Methodist church, passing a kid throwing hoops in the alley between the church and the parsonage. Frankie knows him from school; they're both fourth graders but in different classes.

Pastor Don Wakefield gets chairs for everyone. He can see the strain on their faces. He's met with innumerable grieving families over the years, and knows what to say and what to ask. After several minutes of preliminaries, he says, "Now I'm going to put together a eulogy." The boys frown and look at each other. The Reverend explains, "That's just a little speech I give saying what a wonderful person your grandfather was. I wonder if you can tell me some of the nice memories you have of him. It would help me get to know what he was like."

Frankie starts, "I remember the way he always joked around. He always made me laugh. And he was real good at telling scary stories. I'm really gonna miss that."

"I'll never forget our fishing trip," says Mark. Despite all the reassurances his family gave him, Mark still feels guilty that he was there when Grandpa died. "Grandpa told me lots of great stories about when you was growing up, Pops."

Pastor Wakefield is taking careful notes. He glances at young Mickey, sitting resting against his mother, his face staring at the floor. "And Mickey, what did you love about Grandpa?"

"His fucks," Mickey mumbles, then sits up suddenly and claps his hands over his mouth. He knows he made a big mistake. He isn't supposed to share the family secret. He can't think of anything else to do but hightail his ass out of there. "Mommy, I gotta pee." Ginny takes his hand and they leave the office.

"It's the third room on the right," Pastor shouts after them.

Immediately, Frankie tries to erase the blackboard. "Mickey didn't really mean that, you know. He's like upset. He was like lying. Grandpa didn't really fuck us." Frank winced when his firstborn used the plural pronoun.

"Yeah," adds Mark, thinking he'd better help. "Grandpa never even made us suck him or rim him or anything like that. Grandpa was good. Grandpa's in Heaven now."

Frank decides they've dug a big enough hole, and he tells the boys to be quiet now. He knows under state law, teachers, doctors and other professionals, must report any suspicions of child abuse or lose their licenses. He assumes the law applies to clergy as well. "I think we've taken up enough of your time, here, Sir. I think we'll be on our way. I hope what you heard here will remain in these walls." Frank stands up.

"Please sit down, Mr. Wilson. I know you're scared and the last thing your family needs right now is the threat of exposure. Trust me, your secret is safe with me. Regard my office as a Catholic confessional box, if you will. I'm not going to tell anyone what your lads have said." Frank does sit down but the fact that he is very wary is written across his face.

Pastor rolls his chair over to the window and calls out, "Philip, will you come up here please?" Frankie recognizes the name of his schoolmate, who shortly comes into the room. "Thank you for coming, Philip. I want you to meet the Wilsons.

"Hi."

"Philip is my foster son. He's lived with me for two and a half years now. I love him more than anything in the world." Pastor Wakefield gives the boy a hug and then embarrasses him in front of the strangers with a kiss on the lips." Philip, I want you to tell the Wilsons where you sleep."

The boy screws up his face into question marks. "In your house."

"Yes, but where in my house?" Philip stares at the man. Is he really asking him to let the cat out of the bag? to tell these people what he swore he'd never tell anyone? "Don't worry, the Wilsons will understand."

Now, it is Philip who is staring at the floor and mumbling. "In your bed," he says, barely audible.

"That's right, Son. Thank you." He kisses the boy again, this time on his forehead. "Philip and I love to sleep together, and we do other things in that bed also besides sleep, isn't that right, Son?" The boy stares at him red-faced. He can't believe his ears. He is clearly very uncomfortable.

"Can I go back outside now, Daddy?" Pastor nods and gives his rump a sweet tap.

"Hey, Philip," calls Frankie, "Can I join you and shoot some hoops?" He has a new curiosity about this schoolmate he hardly knows. The two of them run out of the office.

"You realize, Mr. Wilson, what a chance I just took opening up to you like that, so believe me, your family secrets are safe here. I think I know your father a lot better now, and I'd really like to conduct his funeral. Please tell me some of your childhood memories."

Down the hall, Ginny is at the sink rinsing the smell of boypiss out of her mouth. She's gone through a couple inches of the little folded paper towels from the dispenser, washing both their faces. Mickey's tears have subsided a little, but he's still shaking. "I'm sorry," he keeps repeating. His three-year old imagination is picturing grown ups being carried off to jail, and kids being sent to mean strangers.

"Don't worry, Honey." Ginny tries to assure him. "You did nothing wrong. When the minister asked, you told him the truth about loving Grandpa's fucks." If anyone, it was Ginny who felt regretful. Why the hell did she insist on having a minister at the funeral anyway? The Wilsons were never religious. She can't blame sweet little Mickey for answering the man's question honestly. She's the one who got them into this mess.

Down in the alley outside, Frankie and Philip have stopped tossing the basketball around. They are both more interested in talking. "So, when did the Reverend start doing sex stuff with you?" Frankie was frank!

"A couple months after I got here. He was so nice, I really wanted to get close to him. So, one night, when he was sleeping, I crawled into his bed. Hehe, I was just a little kid. It felt so nice lying there, feeling his warm body and listening to his soft snores. I guess he was still asleep when he put his arm around me. I fell asleep happier than I'd ever been in my whole life. When it was light, I woke up and he was still sleeping, but then I felt his hard cock. I knew what that meant, 'cause where I lived before, whenever I was bad, the man used to hit me and force me to suck his cock and then he'd fuck me. So I figured Daddy, I mean the Reverend, I call him Daddy of course, I figured he was dreaming about fucking and I wanted him to like me so bad, so I crawled down and started sucking it." Philip is enjoying the opportunity to describe his experience to someone for the first time. It's tough keeping all that stuff shut up inside so long.

"We like to wake our Dad up that way too. He loves it. So does Grandpa. I mean, well, he used to."

"Yeah, well, Daddy didn't like it so much the first time. He startled and woke up and saw what I was doing and he jumped out of bed. I started crying 'cause I thought he was mad at me. So he sat back down and took me and hugged me and said I did nothing wrong, that he was just surprised was all. He said he woke up once during the night and he saw me in his bed and he thought about carrying me back to my bed but he said he was tired, hehe, so he left me there. I asked if I could sleep there on other nights if I promise to never suck him again. Then he hugged me and said I could sleep with him any time I wanted. And then he smiled and said I didn't need to make that promise. So I thought maybe he liked me sucking him."

"I think all guys like to have their cocks sucked. At least all the guys I know." Frankie goes on to tell Philip about all his uncles in the network. "You like to get sucked too, don't you, Philip?" And in minutes, the two boys have their zippers open and are taking turns giving each other blow jobs right outside the church.

Frank walks into the bathroom with Mark to gather his family together. Ginny sees her husband is smiling. Mark opens his zipper, and by habit, Ginny kneels on the floor and opens her mouth. As the boy empties his young bladder into her, Frank explains that Rev. Wakefield is very understanding, that nothing bad is going to result from Mickey's little indiscretion. "Yeah," Mark adds as he zips up, a serious expression on his face. "He likes to fuck kids too!"

Ginny stares at her husband for confirmation. He nods, "Well, at least he does one little boy, his foster son Philip."

"Thank God!" Then Ginny whispers a prayer of gratitude to all the heavenly powers that plotted together to have this particular man of the cloth arrange the funeral.

The four of them leave the bathroom and find the Pastor waiting in the hallway. He picks the boys up in his arms. "You are both handsome young men. And your parents are very lucky to have you. I know your Grandpa loved you very much also."

Mark asks, "Is Grandpa in Hell?"

"No, Son. I can see your Grandpa up there in Heaven right now, next to Jesus. They've been laughing and joking about you boys. But then Grandpa looked down and saw Mickey was crying and Mark was worried, and he didn't want that, so he asked Jesus to help you feel better and Jesus promised he would. 'Cause Jesus loves little boys even more than Grandpa does!"

Mark looks him right in the eye, "Is that true?"

"Says so right in the Bible." Pastor kisses Mark's forehead and Mickey's tearstained cheek and sets them on the floor. He shakes Frank's hand and quickly goes over once again the funeral arrangements.

Outside, the Wilsons find their oldest son leaning against the wall of the building, his eyes shut, his cock firmly planted in his little friend's mouth. They wait a minute, but finally Frank gives a cough to alert the boys. Frankie squeezes his stiffy back into his pants. "See you tonight, Philip."

"OK, Frankie. I'll be waiting."

On the way to the car, Frank asks, "What was that all about?"

"Philip and me are gonna go on Yahoo tonight and chat. We got lots to talk about."

"I bet you do, Son. I bet you do."

.oOo.

As an author, I welcome feedback from readers. Please send any comments about this story, positive or negative, to Herbcatwriter@yahoo.com. Thank you.