Tailback Preacher

He carried me upstairs like a groom taking his bride to their wedding bed. Instead of lowering me to the guest bed on my back, though, he bent me over the side of the bed. I felt him changing the condom to a fresh one and then he was crouched over me, his large body fully encompassing my smaller one, embracing me from behind and above with one arm around my belly and the hand of the other arm, cupping my chin, while he kissed my throat and between my shoulder blades and positioned the bulb of his gigantic rehardened cock at my anal entrance.

I panted hard and moaned and writhed a bit in his captive embrace as he penetrated me again and started a new journey up inside me. He was fully saddled when he stood upright, taking me up with him, draped in front of him, and lifting my feet off the floor.

"Surrender fully to me," he said in a rumbling low voice. "I'm going to release your chin and I want you to just let loose, bend over at the waist, arms and legs dangling. I will fully support you. I want you to trust me and fully surrender all to me. Let me do it all. Don't fight the release."

I was dangling in front of him, one of his arms encircling my waist, the hand of the other one on the back of my neck, pushing my head down to the floor, my face between my knees. His cock was deep up in my channel. He walked around the room in a crouch, bouncing me up and down on his buried cock, urging me to release all of my tension and to give myself entirely to him. When I was just a loose rag doll, he stood in place and lifted and lowered me on his cock. I came, for a third time, and he came as well. But he just stood there, whispering that I was to stay with him, completely under his control, until he hardened again and fucked me again in the same position.

Then and only then did he lower me onto the bed.

"There," he whispered. "You have done it; you have done it twice—given yourself to a man completely. That's what you must do now to regain your life. You must be able and prepared to give yourself to another man—another man after your Evan—totally, as you have done for me. Such a man will come along. And, if that doesn't work out, there will be another man after that. But grasp the God-given pleasures of life. Give yourself completely to that man. Do you understand?"

"Yes, I think so," I said. I didn't completely understand, though. At that moment I thought he was saying he was that other man. And I was prepared to give myself completely to him. I already had. But that's not quite what he was telling me.

We dozed. I woke to him between my thighs, his knees pushed under my buttocks, my thighs rising high onto his, and his hands gripping my hips and pulling me on and off his sheathed cock again to a mutual ejaculation.

"Let's try to come together this time," he suggested. And we almost did.

It was dark outside when he finished me that time. "I'll fix dinner after we shower," I said as I rolled off the bed and indulged in another lingering look at his magnificent body. I said no more than that, and Linc didn't seem to expect me to say any more. Within less than half an hour of being inside my house, he'd been inside me—again and again. It had all happened so naturally and smoothly that there didn't seem to be anything that needed to be said. There certainly was no guilt in either of our minds—if he harbored any he certainly hid it well. The preacher had been a smooth-tongued persuader. And he'd hardened quickly for me each time, so he didn't seem to be disappointed.

Amazingly enough, if I was disappointed by anything that had happened, it was that he'd used condoms. Evan and I hadn't. I know he was being sensitive and now I was fully prepared to believe that he rarely slept alone, but I trusted him so implicitly that, if he entered me unsheathed now, I would gladly accept him.

We went to the showers. Each of the bedrooms had its own en suite bathroom. When he came downstairs, in just his briefs, I had dinner laid out on the dining room table, the room lit with candles. I had been all over the downstairs and turned over all of the photos of Evan and me. Linc didn't mention that.

After dinner, he took my hand and led me upstairs to the guest room. He put me on all fours on the bed and mounted, penetrated, and rode my ass in a deep doggie fuck. We slept there, me curled up inside his embrace.

It was a night when Linc wasn't sleeping by himself. But it also was the first night since Evan had died that I hadn't slept by myself. And Linc was so smooth that I felt no remorse whatsoever.

I felt silly in the morning after we'd awakened and I'd pushed Linc onto his back, saddled myself on him, and rode his cock to yet another shared ejaculation. Who was I fooling? I wasn't over Evan, but I was over grieving for the sex Evan and I couldn't have anymore. When Linc came down for breakfast, all of the photos of Evan and me were standing back up. He didn't say anything about this either.

* * * *

I saw him as we came down the ramp to our seats at the Duke-Georgia Tech game. The construction worker from church, De'Andre Mills, was sitting in a seat next to two unoccupied seats that I was sure were Linc's and mine. I paused and turned to Linc, giving him a quizzical look.

"Go with it, Trip," Linc said. "You'd be surprised what could be lurking right under your nose."

He was right, of course, and it, of course, was no accident that De'Andre had a ticket to sit right next to us. We did watch and comment on the play, which Duke won, although Georgia Tech put up a good defense, so Linc left happy, but De'Andre and I chatted away on other topics too. And, as Linc hinted, I found that being "just" a construction worker had been too dismissive on my part—not that it mattered in the least in the end. In the end, De'Andre could have been an apprentice in driving nails in house frames and it wouldn't have mattered.

"I'm really a cabinetmaker," he said at one point. "I put in walls of shelving and cabinets in the living and family rooms of houses being constructed. Sometimes I make matching furniture too."

At another point, he revealed that he was rooting for Duke because he had gone there—in English. He revealed he published poetry in regional anthologies. And, no, he hadn't been on the Duke football team, although he'd played tailback in high school and he and Linc talked about that across me for a while during half time. He'd been on the track and swimming teams at Duke.

"You're a runner?" I asked.

"Yes. Steve told me you were a runner too."

"Yes, but I haven't had anyone to run with . . . for several months."

"Since your Evan died?" he asked, turning his big brown eyes to me and turning on a sympathetic charm.

"Yes, since Evan died. But how did you—?"

"Reverend Steve told me you were having a rough time. You know you don't have to run alone, if you don't want to." He put his hand on my knee. I left it there.

I looked at him, giving him a good look now, looking beyond my "just a construction worker" prejudice. He was a handsome young man. I'd only gone with older men, but I was getting on to being an older man myself now. Maybe it was time to switch. I did a double-take. It had been some time since I'd thought in terms of doing it at all, let alone the age of a potential partner. De'Andre was tall—not as tall as Linc, but a good four inches taller than I was—and taller than Evan had been. He was slim like Evan had been, though, although muscular too. He was the milk-chocolate color of Evan rather than the dark chocolate of Linc. He looked strong. His hands looked very strong, in keeping with his carpentry profession.

And he had his hand on my knee. And I left it there.

When he went off in search of a restroom, I apologized to Linc, sitting on the other side of me from De'Andre. "Sorry. It seems like I've been ignoring you. But I'm finding De'Andre fascinating."

"Good. That's how it should be. He's gone to take a leak. Aren't you at all curious?"

I frowned, not understanding him. But then I did and laughed. And I realized I was curious. I followed De'Andre up the ramp and when he went into the men's room and up to a urinal, I took the position beside him and looked down. He was hung. I wondered if all black men were hung, and I decided that at least all I'd been aroused by had been. His cock also was jet black, like Linc's. I gave a little gasp, De'Andre smiled at me, looked at what I had hanging out, and smiled again. He gave his cock a few strokes when he'd finished urinating and I saw it visibly getting even longer. When we returned to our seats, he put his hand even higher on my thigh and I left it there.

He was going to fuck me. I knew that. He seemed to know that, as well. He didn't ask me if he could. He just assumed that we now had an understanding. And he was right.

At the end of the game, Linc offered De'Andre a ride. I thought nothing of that even though I was the one with a car and the one doing the driving. We drove directly to my cottage in Carrboro and climbed the stairs to the second floor.

I started to turn into the guest room. We were all working on shedding our clothes. We all knew this was going to be a threesome.

"No," Linc said, turning me to the master bedroom. "Your bed. We must keep our memories, yes, but they should become fond memories, not controlling ghosts. We're going to fuck you in your bed." And they did.

Linc put me down at the foot of the bed, with my buttocks on the edge. My knees were hooked on his hips and he was grasping and squeezing and separating my buttocks, as he opened me up with his shaft. De'Andre, his naked body lithe but well muscled, his cock long, long, long and stiff in erection, climbed up on the bed at my head, raised my shoulders with his hand so that my head arched back, and slid his cock into my mouth as Linc was fucking me in long slides.

At Linc's direction, Linc withdrew and came around and sat with my head in his lap while De'Andre stood below me, condom packet in hand, looking quizzical.

"Your choice, Trip," Linc murmured. "Steve went with De'Andre to a clinic where he was certified clean. I knew Evan barebacked you as a signal of his commitment. De'Andre is prepared to do the same—to being only for you as long as you want. So, what's your choice? Sheathed or raw?"

"Raw," I whispered. The packet was dropped to the floor. De'Andre was between my legs, grasping my ankles and wishboning my legs, raising, and spreading me wide. Then he was entering, entering, entering me, and I was gasping and panting and arching my back and crying out my need, my want, my satisfaction of being worked deep by a long, long jet-black cock. He pumped me and pumped me as Linc reached a hand over me and stroked me to an ejaculation. De'Andre stroked on inside me to shooting his own load, blasting me deep with his prodigious cum.

We held there, all panting, all humming our satisfaction, until I felt De'Andre going hard again inside me.

"Surrender time," Linc said in a low voice. "Pick him up De'Andre, as I told you to do. Fully master him. Fully surrender to him, Trip."

De'Andre pulled me up from the bed, turned me on his cock, so that I was facing away from him. I went limp for him, bent double at the waist, my legs and arms and head dangling toward the floor, totally relaxed and limp as he crouched a bit, and walked around the floor pulling me on and off his cock until he gave me another ejaculative bathing.

I slept that night, in my own king-sized bed, that Evan and I had shared for years and that I now shared with Linc and De'Andre. At intervals through the night, one of them rolled over on top of me and fucked me. I lost count of how many times.

In church the next morning, I sat in the choir behind the pulpit, where Linc gave a powerful, well-received sermon on acceptance and leading a full life, and where I reminisced about his powerful body being on top of me, fucking me. My gaze went beyond him to De'Andre, sitting in the second row, and my thoughts were the same. My thoughts also went to Evan and it seemed like the words of Linc's sermon were directly challenging my thoughts of my former partner, telling me to remember but not to be consumed by my memories—to get on with life.

It took the congregation a long time to say good-bye to Preacher Lincoln Douglas, who had come to the church with his suitcase. He was going to spend the rest of Sunday with his grandson and bride and they were going to take him to the airport.

He had a twinkle in his eye when he shook my hand and said good-bye in the church's back parking lot where only two cars now were parked—Linc's grandson's and mine. De'Andre stood by mine as Linc and I said our good-byes and I thanked him for bringing me back into life. I knew that this had been just a temporary intervention by him, Linc doing what he was trained to do—and equally knowing that he hadn't left me in the lurch. He'd provided De'Andre for me.

When there was only my car in the lot, De'Andre pulled me to him in an embrace and we kissed.

"You'll drop me off at my house?" he asked.

"I think not," I answered. "I have a need. Could hardly sit still through the church service. I want to take you back to my house. I want you to take me upstairs and bareback the stuffing out of me."

"Can do," he replied, with a big smile.

And afterward, I'll write a thank-you note to Reverend Steven, I thought. I knew who had engineered this successful intervention.