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Ministry

By Terry O’Reilly

Published by

JMS Books LLC

Visit

http://www.jms-books.com

for more information.

Terry O’Reilly

ISBN 978-1-61152-003-3

Cover Photo Credit:

Steven Frame

Used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.
Cover Design:

J.M. Snyder

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purposes of review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and

incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination
and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to
actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to
actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Published in the United States of America.

* * * *

Ministry

By Terry O’Reilly

Randal stood on the porch waiting for the door to be

answered. He was here for his weekly meeting with his pastoral
leader, Bob. In The Fellowship to which he belonged, everyone
had a pastoral leader to look after their spiritual needs. Randal
was also a pastoral leader for several men in the organization. In
the pecking order Bob was a district leader; Randal was under
his direction and worked with men who had been in The
Fellowship fewer years than he. These men in turn were the
pastoral leaders for their families.

He felt his nervousness increase as he waited. He was

always nervous when meeting with Bob. It was not in his nature
to talk about his innermost feelings and beliefs, but he had been
convinced this was God's way of bringing him to his full potential.
Bob was a good man. He seemed to sincerely care about
Randal and his spiritual needs. It was just that some of Randal's
needs weren't the kind you felt comfortable talking about.

The door finally opened.
“Randal, you know you don't have to ring the bell when

you come here. Just come right in."

He'd been greeted by Bob's wife, Sharon. She was

dressed as she always was when he came for his meetings: a
housedress and apron, hair and make-up perfect and a warm
welcoming smile on her face. She reminded him of Mrs. Cleaver
from Leave it to Beaver.

“Thank you, Sharon, I know that I guess, but…well my

momma always taught me…”

“Now don't you go blaming this on that dear sweet mother

of yours,” Sharon said as she drew Randal into the house with
the customary fellowship greeting of a side arm hug. “How is she
by the way?”

“Very well, thanks. The Fellowship’s prayers for her

recovery from her hip surgery seem to be working.”

“Praise the Lord,” Sharon replied and raised both hands

over her head.

“Yes, praise the Lord,” Randal intoned.
“Bob is just finishing up his meeting with Ralph.”
Ralph was one of the overall leaders of The Fellowship.

Randal’s nervousness increased.

“Can I get you some coffee while you wait?” Sharon

offered, always the perfect hostess.

Randal politely refused the coffee. He wasn't much

interested in seeing Ralph. Ralph had led the team that had
prayed for him for exorcism. It was Ralph who had discerned
Randal had some deep spiritual disturbance keeping him from
full communion with God. After much prayer, sweating and four
hours on his knees with three men leaning over him
commanding the unclean spirit to reveal itself, Randal finally
gave in and confessed he was gay. There was much rejoicing
that the demon had revealed itself and with shouts and
commands of heavenly authority it was cast out.

He hadn't felt much difference immediately following the

prayer session, but that night when making love to his wife he
had achieved an erection without having to resort to a fantasy of
some hairy-chested muscle man with a nine inch cock and balls
like King Kong. His joy was short-lived, however, as when he
came to his climax, images of Bob, whom he had seen once in
the shower at a retreat, came rushing in. Bob with his swimmer's
body, tight, thick pubic hair and full, round, smooth ass pushed
him right over the edge with such force, he almost cried out his
name. So much for the effectiveness of exorcism.

Ralph came up from the basement office.
“Randal,” he exclaimed, embracing him in a full body hug.

“Praise the Lord. So good to see you."

“Ralph,” Randal replied returning the hug. He hoped the

guilt he felt from the fact he was still lusting after men in his
fantasies and dreams wouldn't be revealed to Ralph's spiritual
antenna.

“Sharon,” Ralph continued. Evidently Ralph’s spiritual

gaydar was not turned on this afternoon as none of Randal's

demons had revealed themselves. He hugged Sharon side arm
fashion. “Praise the Lord.”

“Amen,” Sharon responded.
“Well, Randal. I'll let you get to your meeting with Bob. He

has some great news for you—great news."

Ralph hugged both Sharon and Randal once more,

praised the Lord again and left.

Randal smiled weakly at the lady and retreated down the

stairs to Bob's office.

Here the hugs and the Lord's praises were repeated once

again.

“Well, Randal, shall we start this time together in prayer?”

Bob's greeting was warm and sincere.

“Yes, that would be fine, Bob.”
“Dear heavenly Father…” Bob prayed for God's blessing

on the time he and Randal spent together and that the Spirit
would guide them in the things they were to discuss.

“Amen,” Bob intoned.
“Amen,” Randal added.
“Let's start with a review of your week." This was standard

practice for the pastoral leader and his subordinate: making sure
the daily Bible study and prayer times were being observed;
ensuring all familial obligations were adhered to; being certain
the spiritual wellbeing of all the men and their families under his
supervision were being addressed.

Once Bob was assured Randal was doing his duty to all

under his care he got to the heart of the meeting.

“Randal, how are things going with your resistance to the

sexual perversion we were able to drive from your being? Praise
God for his power and mercy.”

“Yes, praise the Lord,” Randal said aloud. Shit, he thought

inwardly. Was he going to have to admit he fantasized
frequently about the man sitting before him when he jacked off in
the shower? Or that one of his spiritual charges was so hot,
Randal got hard every time they were together and could hardly
wait until he could lay hands on him when they prayed? Worse
yet, was he going to admit he still had certain gay porn sites

bookmarked on his computer and used them as masturbation
material whenever the kids and his wife were out of the house?
God forgive him…no way was he going to admit to those
weaknesses.

“Everything is just fine, Bob. God be praised. I am

completely healed of all sinful entrapment of the flesh." Randal
wished he were in a position to cross his fingers without being
observed.

“Praise the Lord."
“Yes, praise the Lord.”
“Then, Randal, you feel you are strong in the Lord? Able

to resist any temptation that may come your way?”

“Yes.”
Randal hoped it was so.
“Then we, that is Ralph, the other pastoral leaders and I,

have decided it is time you be given a ministry.”

Randal was dumbfounded. Only those who were truly

proven to be strong in the Spirit were trusted to be given a
ministry. He was both apprehensive and proud.

“We have had a number of calls,” Bob continued, “from

men afflicted with the same demons that possessed you. We
don't expect you to perform a full-fledged exorcism yourself, but
we think you are ready to counsel those who are so afflicted and
bring them to the point of requesting exorcism. Randal, your
ministry is to be to men, both single and married like yourself,
who harbor desires that are an abomination to the Lord.”

Randal didn't know how to respond. He was honored to

have been chosen to have a ministry. But, then why was he
getting hard just thinking about being with men like himself? He
shifted in his chair to hide his growing tumescence.

“Well?”
Bob was clearly expecting a response.
“If the Lord feels I am ready, then by his grace I will be,”

Randal replied.

“Then let us pray,” Bob responded raising his hands to the

ceiling.

Bob dropped to his knees; Randal followed suit. Bob

placed his hands on Randal's head and began to pray for
strength, discernment and guidance as Randal embarked on his
new crusade to spread the truth of God to the masses, and to
free those souls afflicted with such dastardly perversions they
could not be spoken of aloud.

Bob returned to his chair. “I have several names and

numbers of men who have called The Fellowship requesting help
with their homosexuality." That was the first time, as far as
Randal could remember, it had been referred to as anything
other than 'that perversion’ or an ‘abomination.' Bob handed him
an index card with a man's name and number.

Randal took the card and read it: Doug Carter, married,

with children.

Randal took a deep breath. He would free this man, this

Doug Carter, from his bondage. Doug was his to…to what? Oh,
yes…to free from his bondage.

“If you are successful with…uh…Doug,” Bob said leaning

forward to look at the name on the card again, “I will give you the
names of two other men who have requested ministry.”

Bob and Randal discussed a few other issues regarding

The Fellowship, prayed once more and went upstairs. Sharon
with her brood of children was all smiles. More hugs and praises.

Randal returned home. He greeted his wife with the news

he was being given a ministry while avoiding any discussion of
the nature of that ministry, sat down to dinner, led the family with
devotions, helped get the children ready for bed and went to bed
himself.

As soon as his spouse was in bed they began making

love. Doug, and two other nameless men joined them. Randal
fought them off but to no avail. When the pinnacle of excitement
came he had to force his mouth shut lest Doug’s name escape
his lips.

* * * *

Randal sat listening to a phone ringing through the

earpiece of the receiver. His mouth was dry and he was

sweating slightly. He was making his first contact with Doug. He
was just about to hang up when a deep, masculine voice said,
“Hello?”

Randal froze. This was it; he was beginning his ministry

but he couldn't say a word. Lord help me, he thought.

“Hello, who is this?” came the velvet voice again, this time

tinged with a bit of irritation.

“Um…hello." Randal's voice was thin and higher pitched

than usual. Oh great, he groaned inwardly. “My name is Randal.
I am a member of the Word of the Light Fellowship. You’re
Doug?”

The voice at the other end immediately became warm and

enthusiastic. “Yes, yes this is Doug. Oh, man I'm so glad you
called.”

“My pastoral leader, Bob, has asked I contact you about

some spiritual problems you've been experiencing?” Randal
ended with a question in his voice, just as he had been trained.
This was supposed to encourage Doug to share his need.

Doug didn't need any encouragement. He launched

immediately into his sexual history with such vivid detail, Randal
had a raging hard-on in no time. This was as close as Randal
had ever been to man-to-man sex, and this literal blow by blow
description given by a live man was the most exciting moment of
his sexual life. His underwear was soaked with pre-cum. He was
sure if he shifted, the fabric rubbing against his cock would
cause him to climax.

When Doug paused, it took Randal a moment to realize

he was expected to respond. He was so short of breath he could
only squeak, “Interesting.”

“So, do you think you can help me? The guilt is driving me

nuts. I'm afraid my wife'll find out I'm sleeping around and that'd
be it—the shit would really hit the fan."

Randal tried to compose himself. He forced himself to

lower his voice. He hoped he sounded sexier and less like an
adolescent. Had he thought ‘sexier’? No, he had meant ‘more
mature’.

“I certainly do believe I can help you.”

There, that was better—voice lower, in control.
“The Lord wants you to be free of this perversion, and

certainly He has the power to help you."

“Okay.” Doug sounded hesitant. Had Randal come on too

strong?

“Um…do you mind if I ask you something, Randal?”
Randal felt a pang of apprehension. “No,” he said.
“Why were you chosen to be the one to help me? Do you

have any special qualifications? You sound pretty young.”

Randal's reaction to this was a mixture of defensiveness

and panic. He'd been chosen by The Fellowship to fight the
Lord's fight. So if God was on his side, age had nothing to do
with it: think of David and Goliath. But, then what were his
qualifications? He could only think of one. He was as queer as a
rhino with wings. Should he tell Doug that? Why hadn't he
thought of asking Bob for some advice before he rode off into the
crusade?

“Well…” He took a deep breath and said, “I have been in the

same situation you are. With the Lord's help I have overcome it."

“Really?” came the reply. “So, you've been playing around

with guys? You're gay?”

Damn, Randal's thoughts raced. I gave him the idea I

slept around. Since he'd never slept with anyone other than his
wife there had been nothing to overcome. He certainly was still
gay. He jacked off and fantasized about men every chance he
got. Hell, he had just about cum in his pants at the sound of this
man's voice. He decided to skip a response to playing around
with guys and lie about the gay thing.

“I was, but I have been set free,” he said, hoping he

sounded convincing.

Evidently he did as Doug responded with, “Fuck, I hope

you can, cuz this guilt thing is about to do me in. When do we
start?”

At the sound of the man saying the word fuck, Randal's

cock twitched but he controlled himself and set up an
appointment to meet Doug one afternoon the next week.

Every day that went by as Randal waited for the

appointment was bittersweet. Randal couldn't keep from using
the man’s voice as a catalyst for masturbation or as the stimulus
to push him over the edge when he had sex with his wife. He
tried to match the voice with a visual image. It was clear Doug
was older—not a senior by any means, but older. As he looked
at pictures on the internet, he would conjure up the voice in his
memory and try to associate it with the face in the photo.
Pleasure mixed with guilt.

The night before the appointment Randal began to panic.

He'd spent the whole week in sexual fantasy with a man he was
supposed to be leading out of the darkness into the light. He
should have been praying, fasting, seeking the Lord's guidance.
Instead he was lusting after a phantom lover. He would call Bob
and tell him he shouldn't do this. No, he couldn't do that. He had
been given a ministry. He would just have to trust the Lord would
come to his aid in his weakness. Didn't it say somewhere in
scripture, “He is strongest when we are weak?”

Where is that damn passage anyway?
As it turned out, Doug worked as an occupational

therapist in a hospital about 45 minutes from Randal. It was early
April and there had been a freak snow and ice storm during the
night. He'd called Doug, relieved there was a reason to cancel. It
would give him more time to prepare himself spiritually. But, as
soon as he heard the voice, his resolve melted and instead he
told Doug he might be a bit late because of the snow.

Following the directions Doug had given him, Randal

parked the car in the patient lot of the Physical Medicine and
Rehabilitation Building, walked through the slushy snow to the
entrance and took the elevator up to the third floor. He found the
suite where Doug's office was located and walked up to the
receptionist.

“Can I help you?”
“I'm here to see Mr. Carter.”
“Do you have an appointment?” She frowned, apparently

looking at the list of Doug's patients for that day.

“Yes.”
“Which practice referred you? Mr. Carter is seeing his last

patient of the day. I don't seem to have anyone else listed.”

“Oh, I'm not a patient. I'm a…” What am I? Spiritual

counselor? Sex therapist? Insurance Salesman? “A friend of his.
He's expecting me.”

“Oh, I see,” she said with what could have been a wink.

Does she know about his affliction? Did she think I’m one of his
‘special’ friends?

“Name please?”
“Oh…um." Randal couldn't think fast enough to do

anything but tell the truth. But, then why shouldn't he? He wasn't
one of Doug's playmates; he was here on legitimate business—
the most legitimate of all: God’s business. “My name is Randal
Cummings from Weston.”

The receptionist switched on the intercom. “Doug?”
“Yes?”
“There's a Mr. Collins?” She looked at him.
“Cummings…from Weston,” Randal said.
“Cummings from Weston. He says he has an appointment

to see you.”

“I don't know anybody named Cummings…”
Randal had never noticed the sexual connotation of his

last name until the moment when he heard Doug say it. Now he
wished his name was Collins. He thought he was blushing as the
secretary regarded him.

“Oh wait, is his first name Randal?” came Doug’s voice

over the intercom.

Randal nodded.
“Yes,” the receptionist relayed.
“Now I know who he is. Just have him wait a minute. I'm

almost done here.”

Randal sat down in the seat the young woman indicated

and waited. It couldn't have been more than five minutes but it
seemed like hours. He could feel sweat running down his sides.

Finally the door opened and walking toward him was a six

foot three inch, two hundred pound Adonis with what had to be
premature silver hair and a smile caused Randal's toes to curl
and his dick to twitch. He felt weak.

“Randy." Doug stuck out his hand and shook Randal's as

he pulled him to his feet. “You don't mind if I call you Randy,
right?”

At that moment, Randal didn't care what this man called

him despite the fact it crossed his mind that Doug might be
implying a double entendre by using ‘Randy’ as his name. He
had never been this close to another gay man that he knew of,
and he felt like he was generating enough electricity to light the
whole damned building.

“Carol, Randy and I will be conferencing for awhile. I don’t

want to be disturbed,” Doug told the receptionist. “You can close
up and go whenever you like.”

“Thanks, Doug,” the receptionist replied. “Nice to meet

you, Mr. Cummings.”

She smiled. Randal felt himself blush again. Had she

been through this routine before with her boss? He pushed the
paranoid thoughts from his mind and responded to her.

“Nice meeting you, too.”
Doug led him to an office off the main reception area. He

indicated a seat, which Randal took. Then he closed and locked
the door behind him.

The room was large and had equipment in it Randal

assumed was used in Doug's work with his patients. There was
a large desk in the corner covered with papers and folders.
Certificates attesting to Doug's qualifications along with
seascapes decorated the walls. Doug pulled the chair from
behind the desk and sat directly in front of Randal with his legs
spread. He was in hospital scrubs and they left only minor details
to the imagination. These imagined qualifications were as
impressive to God’s chosen crusader as the ones on the walls.

“Let's get started,” Doug said. “Whatta we do first?” he

said wetting his lips with his tongue.

Randal felt faint.
For the next hour Randal and Doug talked about Doug's

life, his family and marriage. Randal tried to avoid much of
Doug's sexual history as he already had a hard-on and knew the
pre-cum was flowing. He was prepared this time, however; he

wore a jock and had lined the inside with a Kotex just to be sure
there would be no slip-ups. This worked to a point. However, the
extra padding plus the erection gave Randal the look of one very
hung stud. Doug had obviously noticed.

A further hour was spent in spiritual discussion, with

Randal trying to explain God's position on the sin of
homosexuality, and Doug wincing and not altogether accepting
all that was being told him. By the time the appointment was
drawing to a close; however, Doug seemed to be open to further
ministry.

“A week from Friday,” he said, “my wife will be out of town

at her mother's. I have to work and so I won't be joining her until
Saturday. Maybe you could meet me for dinner here in town and
later we can go back to my place and pick up where we left off
today?”

“Okay.” Randal had some hesitancy about this, but the

day had gone well. Maybe he was over his infatuation with the
man and could get down to the business of saving his soul.

That hesitancy quickly returned when, as he was about to

leave, Doug took him in a full body hug, telling him how much he
appreciated Randal's taking so much time with him. As they
stood, their bodies pressed together, Randal knew they were
both aware two particular parts of both their bodies were more
than happy to be spending time together. He suppressed a
shudder but allowed himself to breathe in the man's scent. It was
intoxicating.

Doug walked him to his car. They shook hands and

Randal left. He had no recollection of the drive back to Weston.
All he could see before his eyes was the smiling face, the
bulging crotch and the fine rear view he'd seen as Doug had
walked away from the car.

* * * *

It was the Thursday before Randal was supposed to see

Doug again. He was at his weekly meeting with Bob, a day early
to accommodate his appointment with Doug. He had decided to

come clean with his pastoral leader. He knew he couldn't keep
up the charade of not being gay any longer. He was gay. He
knew it. He knew Doug knew it. Their embrace the last time they
had seen each other had given the man he was supposed to be
setting free from sin ample proof. He was pretty sure he knew
what would happen after dinner tomorrow if he went to Doug's
house. He couldn't let that happen. He was a member of The
Fellowship.

“So, how are things going with your ministry?” Bob asked.
It was Randal's mouth talking, but who was saying the

words?

“Bob, it's just going so well. Doug is so open to the truth

that homosexuality is an abomination to the Lord. I really think
there will be a major breakthrough tomorrow.”

No, no, that isn't what I was going to say. The major

breakthrough tomorrow won't be a spiritual one. It will be a
physical one. What's going on here?

“Well, praise the Lord. I knew you were the one for this

ministry. Ralph had his doubts, but I told him you were strong in
the Lord and Randal could handle it,” Bob chuckled. “Randal
could handle. Get it?" He chuckled again at his attempt at poetry.

Randal winced but passed it off with a forced smile. Again

he mentally made an about face. Nothing had happened other
than a hug of friendship at the end of that last meeting. He'd
handled it. He had been strong. He could do this. What he was
feeling was just from lack of experience. He wasn't gay any
longer. Just…confused?

“Since you've done so well in your first assignment, here

are the next two souls you will save from the jaws of
degradation. Their names are…let's see, um…Carl and Jason.”

Randal left Bob, receiving more hugs and praises, and the

names and numbers of two more men to contact. He went home
to prepare for his meeting with Doug the next day. He did so by
jacking off in the shower when he got home and making love to
his wife accompanied by the faceless phantoms of Carl and
Jason. He finished up his preparation the following afternoon by
masturbating in the office lavatory just before leaving for his

appointment. With the tanks dry there would be less temptation
to backslide.

* * * *

He saw Doug enter the restaurant. Immediately he knew

all his preparation was to no avail. He was reacting at the mere
sight of him. Doug made eye contact and walked to the booth.

“Hi,” he said extending his hand.
In Randal's mind he took the proffered hand and

smothered it with kisses, licking between the fingers, sucking
each one in turn. In reality he merely shook the extended hand,
swallowed hard and said, “Hi”.

The meal passed pleasantly. Randal was totally distracted

by the man sitting across from him. He couldn't have recalled
one word of the conversation if his life had depended on it, nor
what he had eaten. But, his memory of the meal was one of
complete satisfaction.

It was seven o’clock when Randal followed Doug’s car as

they drove to his house, parked and walked in the front door.

“Wine?”
No, I shouldn't. Randal thought. “Yes, please,” he said.
“Red or white?”
“Red.”
“Merlot or Shiraz?”
Since Randal didn't know one from the other he just said,

“Whatever you're having.”

He watched as Doug walked out of the room—that

beautiful view once more doing things to his cock the jock strap
was valiantly trying to hold in check.

When he returned he sat next to Randal on the couch—

very close to Randal on the couch.

“Well, Randy, what do we do first?”
Randal's mind reeled. What do we do first? Anything,

everything—kiss me, grope me, suck me.

Randal wasn't used to drinking wine or any other forms of

alcoholic beverage. So, after having drunk only a few swallows,

he was feeling warm and relaxed.

“First, I think you need to understand the scriptural basis

for why homosexuality is wrong.”

“Okay, what did Jesus have to say about it?” Doug asked.
“Well, nothing. He never mentioned it.”
“But, he did mention being critical and judgmental was

wrong. Right?”

“Ah, yes. Yes, that is true.” Randal drained his glass of

wine.

“Okay go on.”
“Well…”
“Hang on, let me get you some more wine.”
What the hell, Randal thought. Once more the ass of his

fantasies undulated out of the room.

Doug returned.
“Paul says…" Randal began.
Doug interrupted again. “Don't some theological guys

think Paul was all uptight ‘cause he was actually gay? I mean the
thorn in his side and don't get married and all that?”

“I suppose some people might interpret it that way…” It

was getting very warm in the room and Doug's eyes were so
very wonderful to look into.

Doug was continuing. “They say something about him

being a Jew and going by all those rules in the Old Testament.
You know like, don't eat pork, don't mix up milk and meat, don't
work on Sunday and don't even touch a woman on the rag or
you will be stoned.”

“And,” added Randal with a giggle and waggling a finger

in Doug's face, “don’t lie with a man as a man lies with a woman.
It is an abomination to the Lord." He giggled again.

“Yeah, but all the others were abominations, too. So,

haven't you ever kissed your wife when she had her period? If
you did you’re abominated. You had a cheeseburger for dinner
tonight, remember? You’re abominated.” Doug laughed.

He had a point, Randal thought, as Doug left the room

once more to refill the glasses. Randal rubbed his crotch.

When Doug returned, Randal was trying to actually find

some of the few scriptures referring to homosexuality as a sin.
His fingers were having a bit of trouble with the fine paper pages
of the Book.

He took a sip of the wine and pointed to the passage he

had found. “Right here it says…”

And that was as far as he got. Doug leaned over, took the

book and turned Randal to face him.

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned," Doug said with a

smile and kissed Randal full on the lips.

Randal didn't know what to do or say. At first he started to

pull away. Then he leaned into the kiss, his first from a man. Sky
rockets and cherry bombs went off behind his eyes and in his
head.

“You were saying?” Doug said with mock seriousness.
“Right here it says…” Once again that was as far as

Randal got. But this time it was Randal who initiated the kiss,
and Doug opened his mouth to let Randal's tongue explore its
depths.

Doug stood up. He grabbed the edges of his polo shirt

and pulled it over his head.

Randal gasped as the beautiful silver haired chest with its

prominent nipples appeared. Doug took both his hands in his. He
placed Randal's hands on his chest and slowly moved them
around. Randal was mesmerized by the feel of the man’s
muscular torso. At this point he realized the counselor was
becoming the counselee.

Then Doug slowly dropped his pants. He was wearing

Jockey low risers. His cock was outlined perfectly against the
fabric. Randal could do nothing but stare. Doug pulled him down
until his face crushed into Doug’s genitals. Randal moaned with
pleasure.

“Come on,” Doug whispered, pulling Randal to his feet.

They went into the guest bedroom. There, Doug skillfully
undressed his ‘mentor’. He laughed when he saw the jock strap
stuffed with Kotex. But when he removed it he wasn't
disappointed. Randal was amply endowed. Then finally came the
time when Doug pulled his Jockeys down and Randal saw the

beautiful cock slap against his sculptured abs.

At ten o'clock Randal stood beside the bed with the phone

in his hand. His face was chapped, there was dried cum on his
chest and his ass was sore. But, he was happy—happier than he
had ever been in his life. Outside the window the freezing rain
pounded out its rhythm. Praise the Lord, he thought, He doth
provide in our hour of need.

“Hi, honey. Yeah, it’s me. The weather is terrible. I better

not try to drive home tonight. I'm gonna stay here at a Motel-6.
Yeah the number is 555-3751,” he read from an illuminated dial
on Doug's bed stand. “No, uh, you don't need an extension; it's a
direct line into the room. Yeah, I miss you, too. Love you, see
you tomorrow.”

“You learn fast,” said Doug, stroking Randal's ass as he

hung up the phone.

“I had a great minister,” Randal replied, leaning down to

kiss him.

He crawled back into bed and snuggled deeply into

Doug's warm rug of hair. He felt Doug's cock rising against his
leg once more.

“I guess I have more to learn,” he sighed.
Later, as he was falling asleep, wrapped tightly in Doug's

arms, he thought of the index card still nestled in his shirt pocket.
Carl and Jason…will they be as much fun to minister to as
Doug? Maybe I could arrange for group counseling. He fell
asleep.

THE END

ABOUT TERRY O’REILLY

Terry O’Reilly is a retired school teacher living a quiet life

in the Midwest with his three dogs and his horse. He began
writing several years ago at the urging of a friend and fellow
author. He has books available through several publishers,
including Amber Allure Press, Aspen Mountain Press, eXcessica
Publishing, and JMS Books LLC. Writing has become an
important part of his life, allowing him to explore his own
thoughts, needs, and feelings, as well as learn about other
cultures and eras as he researches his stories.

ABOUT JMS BOOKS LLC

Founded in 2010, JMS Books LLC is owned and operated

by author J.M. Snyder. We publish a variety of genres, including
gay erotic romance, fantasy, young adult, poetry, and nonfiction.
We are an invitation-only small press. Short stories and novellas
are available as e-books and compiled into single-author print
anthologies, while any story over 30k in length is available in
both print and e-book formats. Visit us at

jms-books.com

for

more information on our latest releases!