The Evangelist by Hankster

The Evangelist
by: Hankster

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We did not attend a regular church on Sundays. That is not to say that I grew up in a house without religion. There was enough religion in our house for several households.

What we did every Sunday morning from 10 AM until 11 AM is sit in our living room glued to the television set, transfixed, listening to the inspiring words of Bobby Lee Smith. When I was very little, I had no idea what he was talking about, but I remember quaking at the sound of his voice. I sensed that he wanted me to do something, and if I didn’t do it I would be severely punished. I remember praying that I would somehow have an awakening and figure out what was expected of me. You might say that at that period of my life, I feared him.

As I grew older, my fear of him became out and out hatred. It was because of Bobby Lee Smith that I was denied everything my neighbors’ kids were given. I never got a single Christmas or birthday gift. Our house was never decorated for Christmas either. If one of my friends got an Etch-A-Sketch or a Lego set, and I asked for one, all I ever heard was that the money needed to be sent to the ministry of Bobby Lee Smith. That money was going to reach millions of people who would be led to Christ and saved. By sending every cent we could to the ministry, we would be assured a place in heaven seated at the right hand of Jesus. My parents believed this fervently. They never questioned it and I couldn’t argue. They assured me that by giving up the shiny new bike all my friends had, I was going to go straight to heaven. Did that mean that my friends were doomed to an eternity in hell? I didn’t know. All I knew was that I hated Bobby Lee.

One Sunday morning, when I was twelve years old, I began to study my hated enemy in a more analytical way. I began to notice him, you might say. The first thing I noticed was that he was bedecked in gold jewelry. Heavy golden chains hung around his neck. Every finger on both hands, except his thumbs, displayed exotic diamond rings set in white or yellow gold. If all his money went to his ministry, I wondered, how could he afford to wear all that wealth? I looked carefully at his adornments, and a strange thing happened. His golden chains transformed into my shiny new bike. His rings became all the toys I was ever denied. I gasped as I stared at the TV set?

“What’s wrong, sonny?” my dad demanded to know.

I could not answer. Couldn’t he see what I saw? Apparently he did not.

The second thing I noticed was that he was attended by a bevy of handsome young teen age boys. I was about to become a handsome teen age boy. I really couldn’t say that I was aware of it at the time, but the seed of revenge was planted in my brain that Sunday morning.

In the next two years, I actually began to listen to what the man had to say, and I found it appalling. Every word out of his mouth was a word of hate. There was no love in that man’s heart or in his mouth for that matter. He hated everyone, Jews, Catholics, Muslims, Buddhists, people of color, etc. Bobby Lee reserved his greatest hatred for ‘the homerseckualists.’ I didn’t know who those dreaded individuals were, but they were apparently populating Hades. Worse, they were also the cause of all the ills in the world. Of course he said that about the Jews, Catholics, Buddhists, men of color, etc. so it confused me a lot.

I tried to look up ‘homerseckualists’ in the dictionary. That’s how Bobby Lee pronounced it and I spelled it like it sounded. I couldn’t locate it so I guess the only way I was going to find out who these despicable people were was to ask my father.

Did I tell you that I feared my father? He constantly beat me for sinning against God. When I tried to define what the sin was, I never got a clear answer. I was always a sinner for whatever reason, and that’s that. I was just too afraid to ask my father anything for fear of getting boxed in my ears again.

I had a friend. Well, not really. I didn’t actually have friends, but I can say I had a school mate who didn’t constantly make fun of me like the other kids did. I decided to ask him. He walked home from school in my general direction for a street or two and then turned in a different direction. One day I walked next to him for a moment, gathered my courage and said, “Jimmy, can I ask you a question?”

“Sure.”

“What’s a ‘homersecksualist?’”

I’m not sure what happened next except I had a black eye for a week, and I heard another new word as Jimmy yelled at me, “Fuckin’ faggot.” I mean, the new word was faggot, not fuckin’.

Naturally my dad wanted to know how come the black eye. I was forced to tell him, but I was smart enough to use Bobby Lee as my shield.

“Dad,” I said in the most serious sounding voice I could create, “Bobby Lee says we should beware the ‘homerseckualists.’ I don’t know what a ‘homerseckualist’ is so how can I beware of them? When I asked Jimmy, he whacked me and called me a faggot. Bobby Lee is right. I gotta beware of ‘homerseckualists’ whatever they are.”

In a rare moment of benevolence my dad put his arm around my shoulder and whispered in hushed tones, “I don’t want your mother to hear this. A homosexual (he pronounced it correctly which later enabled me to look it up in the dictionary) is an abomination. It’s a man who lies with another man,”

That’s it. No flourishes, no embellishments. ‘A man who lies with another man.’ Now what the heck did that mean? Do two guys stand around telling each other lies? That might not sound like a terrible sin to you, but lying would be enough for my dad to inflict severe punishment on me. Anyway, I went to the dictionary and looked up ‘homosexual.’ Basically, it was slightly more specific; more specific than my father’s definition anyway.

“A sexual desire for those of the same sex as oneself.”

More confusion. Now what is a sexual desire? Remember in my household sex was never a topic of conversation. Jesus wouldn’t like it, I’m very sure. I never even touched my own penis except to pee. When I was very little, I must have done it and gotten a good whack on the knuckles for my efforts. You don’t forget a good whacking. Do you? The only thing I knew about sex is that on applications I checked ‘male.’ From that I deduced, any male who had a sexual desire for another male was headed for hell. God have mercy. Amen! If I only knew what a sexual desire was.

I used the encyclopedia at school to learn a little more about homosexuals, but learned little else more than I already knew. I decided to drop the matter. Anyway time and nature would educate me. At fourteen the only thing my class mates talked about was sex. You would think that I would get a liberal street education from that, but nobody talked to me. Ever since the incident with Jimmy, everyone looked at me funny and avoided me. So whatever I could have learned from street educators, I didn’t. However, I kept my eyes and ears open and little by little gleaned some education on matters ‘sexual.’ Most of it was faulty, but I was learning. Then I had my first wet dream.

I remember being awakened by a strange sensation in my groin. It wasn’t anything bad. I might say it was rather pleasant. The only problem was I had wet my jockey shorts and the bed sheet. Momma was going to kill me. I ran to the bathroom and retrieved my wash cloth. Thank Jesus, my folks were sound asleep. As best I could I cleaned up the mess, but in so doing I committed a grievous sin. I stroked my penis. It felt rather good, but I was taught that if it feels good, it’s a sin, so I made short work of that task. I rinsed out the wash cloth, returned it to its resting place and got back in bed.

It happened again less than a week later, but this time it was different. When I woke to the mess, I remembered the dream that accompanied the incident down to the last detail. Jimmy was lying in my bed with me. We were both naked. He was stroking my penis and I told him to stop or he would go to hell. He said he wouldn’t stop because he wanted me to feel good. If I felt good, I was committing a sin and I would go to hell, not him. He was right. It felt wonderful, his stroking me like that, I mean. Whoops! There it goes again.

Once more I went through the clean up routine, but this time as I dried and cleaned my messy penis, I realized that it was standing straight up in the air, and my touching it felt so good, I just couldn’t stop, My palm instinctively wrapped around the offending member of my anatomy and I stroked it gently. As I drifted into some surreal world, I experienced my first orgasm. This cum was more plentiful and much thicker than the wet dream stuff, and I had a harder time cleaning it up. Next time, I thought, I’ll empty into a tissue or something so I can flush it down the drain. Wow, I was talking about a next time. Then it occurred to me that Jesus might forgive me for one indiscretion, but if I did it again, I’d be on the express train to hell. I curled up into a fearful ball and could not sleep again that night. But boy. It had felt super good.

When I was sixteen, at the end of one of his telecasts, Bobby Lee announced that for the months of July and August, the network would broadcast re-runs of the best of Bobby Lee. He himself was going on a crusade. He was going to visit as much of America as he possibly could. His mission was to save a minimum of ten thousand souls. He pleaded for more funds to help him accomplish so formidable a task and my dad ran for his checkbook. Another giftless year. At the signoff, the network listed the cities he would appear in and the dates. He was going to be in Atlanta (two hours away) on July 8^th, and we were going to be there.

I began to formulate my plan. At sixteen I was astute enough to know what a hypocritical phony Bobby Lee was. At his revival meetings, he could bilk even more money from the fools who listened to him. Heaven help the people of the world if they were all like my parents. I determined that I was single handedly going to bring Bobby Lee down and expose him to the world. In fact, it was my mission in life.

After the first time I whacked off, I determined that nothing that good could be a sin. Who was I hurting? It was a very private solo act that made me feel good. Jesus had not visited a plague upon the earth because I did it. So I said, “Fuck you, Bobby Lee. Fuck you, Dad. From now on I’ll do what I please.”

I also found out that I was one of those dreaded homosexuals, gay, queer, if you will. At least I believed I was because every time I whacked off I dreamed that I had Jimmy’s cock in my mouth or in my ass and it sure added to the great feeling I got. Once I tried to imagine I was doing it with Mary Lu, my next door neighbor, and my dickie bird got as limp as the proverbial old wet dishrag. So I guessed I was gay. It didn’t bother me in the least. By now, I didn’t believe one word Bobby Lee said. In fact, I concluded that if he thought it was bad, then being gay was probably a good thing. I went to the library and read everything I could find on the subject. Most of it was derogatory. I went to the internet and found lots of positive articles, and lots of gay literature. I was being educated and I knew what I wanted to do to a man and what I wanted done to me. Oh yes, as a result, I began to whack off several times a day. It felt so good. I also obtained a dildo which I kept well hidden.

I sat right down and wrote a letter to Bobby Lee. By now I fit the image of the boys who attended him. It seemed that the older boys kept leaving and he brought in younger ones. I’d say the average gofer was about my age. I had Mary Lu take glamour pictures of me and I selected the best picture I could. They were all good actually. Mary Lu was an aspiring photographer. I intended to send Bobby Lee my picture. In the picture I wore a tight fitting tank top shirt and short shorts. I would have lusted after me myself if I got that picture.

In the letter, I told Bobby Lee how much I admired him, and how badly I wanted to serve Jesus. I begged him to let me work for him during his crusade. Why I was even willing to quit school to serve him, if that was a chance he would give me.

I have already told you how good looking I am. I practically heard back by return mail. He was starting his crusade in Memphis and I could join his crew there if I was still interested. I showed my folks his letter and they almost screamed in delight. They were actually nice to me. They asked me please to give them the letter so they could frame it and they got me a train ticket to Memphis right away.

I arrived in Memphis with one small suitcase which was adequate for my scant belongings, and I took a cab to the hotel Bobby Lee had told me to go to. I went to the front desk, and gave them my name. I told them that Bobby Lee was expecting me and they paged him. One of his boys came to the front desk, shook my hand and winked at me as he led me to Bobby Lee’s room. I was willing to bet that Bobby Lee and the boys had orgies together.

Bobby Lee began to drool when he saw me. He embraced me and ran his hand up and down my back and then did the same to my chest. When he patted my chest he went a little bit further down than he should, but I rather liked it.

He put his arm around my shoulder and said that Georgie Porgie here (my boy escort) was going to be my room mate. He told me that George was going to ‘break me in’ and I should learn and do everything he told me to do. I looked at George. He was damned good looking and my cock twitched. There was no doubt in my mind what George was breaking me in for. I didn’t mind. I had been looking forward to my first ‘homersecksual’ experience and if George wanted to prepare me for the big boy, well, here I am.

George took me to our room and told me we had three hours until the entire ‘family’ would meet in the dining room for dinner. The crusade would begin at 2 PM the next day so we would have plenty of time for further instruction. He began to strip and advised me to do likewise. I already was sporting a good size hardon which I had no intention of hiding. George said he always liked to take a shower before he began instructions. He was as hard as I, but not nearly as big. All he could say when he saw me was, “Wow.”

In the shower we washed each other thoroughly, paying particular attention to our cocks, balls and ass hole slits. Boy it felt good. Then in bed, George had us assume a sixty-nine position but when I told him it was my first time he was shocked. It may have been my first time, but for the past two years I had read every dirty story I could locate on the internet. I knew exactly what to do and what I wanted to do.

“I’ll show you then,” George said. I was already spread eagle on the bed so he mounted me and began to give me a trip around the world that sent me flying (pun intended.) After much teasing he finally started on my rod. I came in his mouth so fast I just had to apologize because he was enjoying it so much. I hated to cut him short. By the way, my first blow job was all I ever dreamt it would be. I was now looking forward to fucking.

“Do you think you could do that to me now?” George asked. “Bobby Lee will expect you to do it for him.

“I can’t wait,” was my answer as I straddled him. I did everything to him he had done to me with improvements. I had him raise his buttocks and I ate out his ass hole. Then while I was sucking him I inserted a moist finger up his slobbery ass and he went wild. He writhed and groaned and came deliciously in my mouth. I swallowed avariciously, but saved a little for my new friend, and passed his cum to him as I kissed him passionately.

“Wow.” he said, “Do that to Bobby Lee and you’ll be set for a long time.” Finally, George said it was time to get ready. He went back into the shower and he asked me to join him, but I said I’d rather not. If I showered with him, we’d never get ready for dinner. He laughed and left me alone in the room for a few minutes. That’s when I planted the camera.

At dinner, Bobby Lee had me sit beside him. He fondled me all through the meal and I smiled at him, urging him on. Once, I got bold and I fondled him back. He smiled at me in approval.

At the end of the meal, he ordered me to come back to his room with him. I pretended to be too shy and scared and asked him to come to my room where he, George and I could have a threesome. I said that I would feel more relaxed with George in the mix, but I promised that once I was ‘broken in’ I’d be delighted to spend some time alone with him. He looked back and forth between George and me. Eventually he broke out into one of his crowd winning smiles and said that he thought that was a great idea.

The three of us went to my room. You never saw three guys undress so quickly. While the other two were undressing, I was able to turn on the camera unseen by them. Bobby Lee was the first to jump on the bed. His erect cock was immense and was reaching for the sky.

“I’d love to sit on that,” I said “but you guys will have to open me up.”

“No problem,” George said. He went to a dresser drawer and removed a tube of lube. He and Bobby Lee began to grease their fingers and to insert them up my ass. Actually I had been spreading myself with a dildo for months and required no more stretching. When I was well greased, Bobby Lee oiled his cock and lay down on his back again. I straddled him and lowered myself on to his throbbing tool. I pretended it hurt and went down very slowly. Actually I was enjoying every moment and it felt so damn good. As soon as I was in place, Bobby Lee motioned for George to come close to him. He grabbed George’s cock and brought it to his mouth. He sucked ferociously on George as I began a steady up and down movement on Bobby Lee’s cock. Then Bobby Lee grabbed my cock and started stroking in rhythm to me. We all kept this up as long as we could, but one by one we came.

After some time when we were all recovered, Bobby Lee said, “You boys have all the fun you want. It wouldn’t do for me to be found here. I’ll leave you now, but we’ll have more fun tomorrow.” I followed him to the door to lock it after him, and on the way I was able to shut the camera unnoticed.

When Bobby Lee left, I asked George to fuck me and he was happy to oblige. Then I had my turn. Afterwards, George fell asleep in a stupor. When I was sure he was sound asleep, I got out of bed quietly. I dressed and removed the camera I had hidden on the dresser. I had covered it with my shorts so that only the lens was exposed. I packed the camera and the rest of my few belongings in my suitcase, and left the room as quietly as I could.

As soon as I got out of the hotel, I ran several blocks and found an all night diner. I went into the rest room and examined the film I had recorded. At all times my back was to the camera but most of the time you could clearly see George and Bobby Lee. Nobody had turned off the lights in the room so the clarity was excellent. There was no question who was sucking and fucking minor children.

I went outside and found a cab. I asked him to take me to the city’s largest newspaper. “It’s right there,” the cabbie pointed to a building right next to the diner. Wow, an honest cabbie.

“Thanks,” I said and ran into the building.

Imagine Bobby Lee’s surprise the next morning when he turned on the news to see some very censored pictures of himself having sex with two teen age boys. The scandal brought down his ministry, thank Jesus.

Unfortunately I had to get implicated and testify at his trial. I told the jury that he made it quite clear that either I service him or I could not work for him. The other aides testified against him also. None of us wanted to get in trouble with our parents.

I’d like to say that that was the end of Bobby Lee Smith, but it wasn’t. He served a few months in prison and got paroled. Interviewed as he left prison, he said, “The devil made me do it, but in prison I successfully exorcised the demon from my body. Now I’m pure again and ready to resume my ministry.”

Sure enough, the next Sunday he was back on the air, and out came my father’s check book. My revenge may have been sweet, but it sure was short.

The End.

Posted: 07/11/08