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Just As I Am

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Just As I Am by D Hardwick (maximise@bigpond.com.au)Churches are full of horny young men who have no legitimate outlet for sex. I was one of them. I'd been trying to not come since I was saved a year before at seventeen. But it was hard and the boners kept getting worse.I was helping to take up the collection when it happened. Sister Bridey was playing the hymn Just as I am on the organ. You know the one: Just as I am without one plea, O lamb of God, I come to thee. I cracked a fat. I beefed up a boner right there in the middle of church, in the middle of taking up the collection. And the more I tried to put it out of my mind the more I felt it, the harder I tried the harder I got.The embarrassment was excruciating and I was struggling. How could God let this happen to me and in church? Didn't he love me?My trousers were tenting as I walked towards the sanctuary. I tried to hide my boner by keeping the collection plate at crotch level. Everyone paused. The pastor held out his hands for the plate. His eyes went wide. I stepped forward and it happened.And as I came forward, I let myself go. For the first time I began to let myself understand that God loved all of me, my body, my boner, my cum, my horny-ness, all. I held up my hands to pray, three appendages in the air. I didn't hear the pastor's words. I was deep inside. I whispered, "just as I am," and I felt the wetness as I came. Right there in the middle of prayer, I groaned and I came to Jesus.It seemed like I came and came. The pastor put his hands on my head and prayed. I was lost in prayer and lost in pleasure. A thousand images came to my mind. I saw God making sexy men. I saw Jesus naked with a cock ring. He smiled at me and held out his hands. For one heavenly minute I felt everything fitted, everything was right with the world and coming in church was the most wonderful feeling in the world.It was like a dam had burst. The cum smell was so strong. I don't know what the older sisters must have thought. I shrugged off the pastor, fell on my knees and lowered my eyes. I waited and waited until all the noises stopped, as if everyone left. And I made a dash for the car park doing my best to hide the growing wet spot with my hands.I couldn't talk about it for a long time but I developed a fetish for churches. I'd be in the city and in the middle of the day and I'd feel a compulsion to pray in my own special way. I'd sit in a secluded pew, pull out my boner and offer my juice to Jesus. This was how I met the priest. He smiled at me and touched my back when I said goodbye. He asked me to come again.The priest was very sympathetic. He talked about circumcision and the bride of Christ and sex mystery cults in the early church. He suggested that I use the side altar on quite days. He even joined me once. We offered our seed together.My only problem was that the combination of sex and religion was like a powerful aphrodisiac. I kept getting hornier and hornier. It was such a good feeling for me that it was I began to be hard almost all the time. Everywhere I looked I saw sexy men and women. I'd bar up constantly for the slightest reason. I had fantasies of following hunks to church and masturbating in the pews behind them or of naked priests offering mass.And this is how I met an angel. Well, I call him my angel. (Angel means messager, you know.) A young man in the street had smiled and held my eyes. I followed him. He led me to a door in a wall. He smiled and beckoned me in. It was bathhouse. It was my first time. I was breathing hard as I stiffly undressed. I could hardly keep myself from coming. But when I turned around the young guy had quietly disappeared. Horny and afraid, I tentatively I explored. I stumbled over the steam room. I could almost smell the lust here. The noises had attracted me, the shuffling, murmuring, grunts and groans. I steeled myself, took a breath and plunged into the wet darkness. Someone kissed me. Hands groped. I lost my towel. Bodies rubbed. It was happening again. I was next to God, lost in the feelings, in the wet rubbings. I couldn't stand it. I felt lust with every touch, roughly and gently. I rubbed bums wet with steam. I even kissed some cocks and tried to suck.I was on my knees when the first cum hit my face, like a slap of bleach. I called for more and they came on me, all the men in the hot wet temple. My hair, my face, my arms, chest covered like a baptism in the juices of men. I felt so good.Someone knelt beside me and licked cream from my face. I was confused. I was kind of spaced. As he licked he grasped my cock. A touch of man. His hand was oily with sweat, with cream or steam but he held me hard. I couldn't stand it. "Jesus," I called. "I'm coming" He pulled his hand away. But in a sweet, sweet flow I came and came. He kissed me. He hugged me. He nuzzled me. I felt so complete. I felt so honest and clean like that first time in church. Smiling and dizzy I pulled myself away. I lurched for the shower, feeling unreal and yet satisfied. The licker followed me. In the half-light he looked sexy and also half familiar. "I've always wanted you," he said in a soft but firm voice. His smile was tentative and half formed but his eyes were strong. He reached out to me and I remembered where I met him. Tony is his name. He's the youth pastor at a nearby church. I'd masturbated there. His eyes were smiling and so were mine. He reached out. We've been together ever since. And we're still coming together in the love of God.

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