The Road to El Dorado: The Hunt for the CRF19 Strain

[whthole4u]

“Forgive me Father, for I have sinned,” I gasped as the thick uncut dick pushed through the gloryhole cut into the wood of the confessional, then through my outer ass ring. “You have not sinned yet my son,” Father Adelmo said, “But I see from the arch of your back that you are about to. Here, snort this white manna, feel the burn, and let Brother Roberto give you your penance.” The legend of El Dorado - originally El Hombre Dorado (the golden man) - changed over time and went from being a man, to a city, to a kingdom, and then finally an empire. Yet here I was, on the outskirts of Miami, seeking a way to my El Dorado, my golden man, the man who could infect me with CRF19 - the most virulent strain of AIDs in the Western Hemisphere. The thick wood wall held firm as Brother Roberto slammed his 10-inch dick through the velvet covered hole and into my ass raw. I was happy to take whatever penance he offered as long as it got me closer to my goal - closer to the bug - closer to CRF19.

My journey began in 2015 when the United States and Cuba restored diplomatic relations after 50 odd years of being enemies. Soon after the doors had reopened between our two countries, reports started appearing on some of the fringe news sites of a dark virus. ‘CUBAN DEATH MARCH’, ‘COMMUNIST PLAGUE’, ‘AMERICA AT RISK FROM VIRAL ATTACK - FIDEL’S LAST TRY’, and more. By the time some of the mainstream news and government sources reported the information, the headlines were not quite so inflammatory, but gave me a fucking hard on nonetheless. CRF19 was an aggressive strain of AIDs so far only found in Cuba. No one knows why exactly yet and just fucking Google if you want to read the conspiracy theories from it's a legacy of the aliens who founded Atlantis, to John F. Kennedy’s ‘FUCK YOU’ to the Cuban people. What mattered to me were the words, “...aggressive strain...combination of sub-types A,C, D,..a recombinant strain that progresses to AIDs THREE TIMES FASTER than normal strains…” I spent months on multiple search engines, submitted several Freedom of Information Act requests to the Centers for Disease Control, sent emails to whoever I could find in the United Nations, NGOs in Florida, and more trying to find some lead, some detail, something concrete about this strain of AIDs. Why you ask? I’m a drug addled bug chaser - duh! I like dirty dick and well frankly, tired of the vanilla shit available to me in the grand-old-U-S-of-A. Gonorrhea - been there done that. Syphilis? HUH! One shot and cured? I even spent my two week vacation last year as a drugged out whore at a homeless camp in Oakland, California, where I ingested so much street drugs, raw homeless dick, viral blood and cum, I had the demons of Hell trying to live up to the example I set!

Yeah, I came home with a sore throat, a sniffle, a drip or two, but nothing that would have set my path to that total self-destruct button. You know those TV ads with the big red button they push and BAM - office supplies appear? I was looking for one of those with a biohazard sign on it - one that would lead me to a toxic waste dump of humanity - the apocalypse of my existence - the end times living in the Nirvana of viral-infected bliss. I had almost given up, and then I read a blog post about Father Adelmo. At first I figured it was from what ever drugs I had let the latest BBC freak me up with so I would be a pliant white cunt for him, but turned out to be all true – and then some. My research on the web told me that Father Adelmo came to Florida in a boat with his parents when he was like 13. He excelled at school, went to seminary, rose up in the ranks of the church hierarchy, but then something happened. What exactly, I could not find, but searching deep and wide on the web I soon realized Father Adelmo had two groups of followers - the normal, kind-hearted citizen who supported his many, and ongoing good works even like his soup kitchens, hospices, and other charities even though he had been kicked out of the priesthood. The second were more of a mystery as the few threads I found that mentioned drugs, sex, cultish activities often disappeared almost as soon as they got posted. I guess Father Adelmo didn’t want folks like me to know the vile, twisted, drug-crazed shit he made them do. All that was well and good, but the fucking kicker - the fucking kicker was I found an online post where someone said that Father Adelmo had snuck them into Cuba for a weekend of raw, twisted, brutal, gangbang fucking. He was a sex trafficker – fuck! The catch? There’s always a fucking catch. Beyond the U.S. Coast Guard and whatever Cuban border issues and legalities such shit might create, Father Adelmo was a cash boy. Cash man more accurately, but a hustler. Pure and true. While it appeared his monies went to help the hungry, the homeless, the less fortunate, he was still a hustler and part of my mind warned - DANGER DANGER - CON-ARTIST!

Well that didn’t stop me. Through a lot of sleuthing that was a combination of Sherlock Holmes, Magnum PI, and Agatha Christie, I was able to get an email address that I was told would connect me to him. A few emails later - with me having to bare my innermost, darkest, twisted and extreme desires - Father Adelmo agreed to help me if I had the funds and got to Miami. FUCK! Two weeks later I was in Little Havana waiting to step through a door with bars on it in a line of nondescript buildings that were a mix of warehouses/shops. The only indicator I was in the right place were the numbers above the door that were peeling off - you know those metallic looking kind you get at a hardware store that are like stickers? Oh yeah, and also by two men with plastic name tags pinned to their shirts that said ‘Brother Roberto’ who were standing outside the door. Did IHOP have a ‘going out of name tag sale’? They could have been twins as both were dark skinned, tall, muscular - like fucking buff muscular, with tight clipped hair, and were wearing all black clothes. The one on the right had a jagged scar on his right temple and he put a hand roughly in the middle of my chest to make sure I got the message that to enter through the door I had to get through him and his compadre first. I thought they would ask for an ID, secret password or some shit once I told them I was there to see Father Adelmo. No, nothing that movie-esque. Brother Roberto - the one with the scar - held up his phone, took a picture of my face sans-shades, tapped his foot as he waited, the phone dinged, then he smiled and said, “Entre por favor - PUTA!” I knew enough Spanish to know he just called me a slut and as I glanced at the hefty Cuban cigar he had dangling down his right pant leg I was more than ready and said, “Thanks Bob!” as I waved and sauntered in. The outside walls of Father Adelmo’s chapel were a vibrant blue, but inside it was dark, full of smoke, candles, and looked like the central altar of a medieval cathedral had been crammed into a space far too small for it. Did they fucking heist a church or what? In the middle of the floor, standing on a slightly raised dais was Father Adelmo dressed in robes of gold brocade with jewels on each finger, a miter hat, chains of gold - the embodiment of a prince of the church. Well except for him being naked, the smoke coming from crack pipes, weed pipes, and god knows what and the two ‘altar’ boys (clearly of legal age so ‘altar men’ but you know what I mean) off to the side fucking like rabbits. Holy hell what the fuck?

“This do in remembrance of me,” Father Adelmo said as the next supplicant got down on his twink knees and slurped on the good Padre’s thick uncut dick that was peeking out between his golden robes. The twink then stood back up, took the jeweled chalice from Father Adelmo’s right hand and slurped from it, wiped his mouth with an exaggerated motion, then bent forward and with a rolled up bill snorted a line off a golden tray held in the Father’s left. The twink spasmed and would have dropped if not for another man dressed just like the two out front had not caught him, shuffled him to a bench against the wall, and left him propped askew as two other supplicants began stripping him. The Father paused and looked at me, “Come forth my son. Join the holy union. Be one of the body.” All eyes turned and stared at me - well all eyes that were conscious and not fucked up. I took a small step forward, then another, and the grunts of the two altar boys as one shot in the other’s ass spurred me forward. Up close I could see that Father Adelmo might be older than he first appeared. Yet, he was still handsome and that dick - fuck that dick! Up close it was even thicker and was drooling from the tip. I wanted nothing more than to bow before my new lord and master.
“This do in remembrance of me,” Father Adelmo said as he jutted his hips forward and held out the chalice and plate for me to partake. I took a step back, raised my hands up in humble submission and said, “I..ah..think I’ll just watch? This time? OK?” Father Adelmo ran his tongue over his top lip then pulled his lower lip under his upper teeth all in one alluring motion that said, “YOU LOOK FUCKING TASTY!” I took another step back and bumped into a hard body. Another Brother Roberto was standing behind me, blocking any further regress, so I smiled, gave a nervous chuckle, and watched the rest of the ceremony trying not to let my ass override my common sense. Once all the supplicants had tasted Father Adelmo, drank from the chalice, snorted from the plate, and staggered off to begin their orgy of salvation, the Brother Roberto behind me pushed me forward as another Brother Roberto took a white, lace handkerchief and wiped the spittle off Father Adelmo’s dick before tucking it into his pant’s pocket. He then took the chalice and plate and followed the Padre stage right and through a door into the back. I was pushed along to follow and when I stepped through the heavy, wooden door once again had the thought of, “Where the fuck are we?” We were in a series of rooms that seemed far larger than what should have been - all polished wood, velvets, golden candlesticks, and more. Father Adelmo let one of the Brothers pull the golden robes off, but before they took off his jewels and miter he motioned for the chalice and plate and said to me again, “Come forth my son. Join the holy union. Be one of the body.” The Brother Roberto behind me gave me a rough shove, so I got the impression this was not a choice. I stepped forward, reached for the cup and got a good cuff up side the head. I turned with a snarl at the Brother as I rubbed my head and he pointed. Oh yeah, step one, kiss the ring - or in this case, the big uncut Cuban dick on Father Adelmo. I kneeled, kissed the tip, got my head cuffed, so I opened my mouth and slurped on it a few times while Father Adelmo and the Brother Robertos chanted in unison, “Taste of my flesh”. His dick was rank and foul tasting and I don’t really like sloppy seconds or 23rds or however many other mouths had been on there.

Father Adelmo held the chalice and plate steady. I took the chalice, stared down into the dark red swirls of liquid, sniffed it, eased it to my lips and took a sip. I swallowed and Father Adelmo and the Brother Robertos chanted in unison, “Taste of my blood”.  I didn’t have a rolled up bill so leaned close to the golden platter, pinched one nostril and SNORTED. Fucking hell! I choked, gagged, and thought for sure I would have a stroke as Father Adelmo and the Brother Robertos chanted in unison, “Taste of my spirit”. My eyes watered, I felt dizzy all of a sudden, and someone roughly put their hands under my armpits and half dragged/half walked me to a velvet cushioned chair just off to the side. While I tried to regain my senses, one Brother Roberto after another completed the ritual - tasting the Father’s dick, drinking from the chalice, snorting from the plate. Not one of them staggered or swooned and I felt like such a pussy. The ceremony complete, Father Adelmo’s final adornments were taken off, placed inside a large, wooden cabinet, and while I looked in awe again at his monster uncut dick, he came over to me and said, “Come my son, let’s discuss what it is that you seek.” The Brother Roberto I had met out front - the one with the jagged scar on his temple - helped me up then Bob and another Brother started to manhandle me and strip me. “Hey - hey - what the fuck guys - I…” Another cuff to the head and I shut up and complied. I was still buzzing from whatever the fuck it was I drank and snorted and even if I hadn’t of been there would have been no way honestly I could have stopped them. Plus, it was kind of hot being force stripped by the macho men even if they were fucking cultists or crazy fuckers. I was led through an ornate door into a room that had plush carpets, piles of pillows, tables with platters of white powder, crystal decanter’s with various drinks, and other carnal wants and desires. On the far side of the room the wall was covered with a series of four wooden booths. The ornate carvings and scrollwork and velvet curtains told me they were confessionals - or had been once. Father Adelmo sat in the one on the far left and I was directed to the one just to the right - my right/his left - whatever. The curtain was shut behind me, Father Adelmo slid the partition back, and said, “Kneel my son, and tell me - what do you seek?”

I looked at the Padre’s handsome face and watched as he started stroking his dick. Someone in front of his booth held the golden platter out for him along with a golden straw, and Father Adelmo snorted a big line, wiped his nostrils, his eyes flared open, and he stroked his dick faster. My curtain was pulled back, the platter pushed in, I snorted again, swayed, Father Adelmo chuckled, but this time the rush was not so bad and I quickly steadied myself on my knees. “Push your ass back now,” Father Adelmo said. “What?” I asked, not understanding. I turned and looked at the confessional wall behind me and saw a gloryhole had been cut into the wood and trimmed in dark, red velvet. Two large, meaty fingers were wagging at me and I looked incredulously at Father Adelmo, the fingers, back at the Father. He smiled, “What do you seek?” he said again in a reassuring voice, then his tone darkened and he said, “NOW PUSH YOUR ASS BACK!” I looked back at the waggling fingers again - they were still there, waiting for my hole - yet they had changed and were dusted in a coat of white powder - likely from the golden platter. The fingers found my fuck-chute, I cried out “FUCK THAT BURNS, PLEASE STOP!” Father Adelmo had stood up now, his big, uncut dick hanging over the side of the confessional window as he grabbed my head and fed me his Cuban dick. “TASTE OF MY BODY - TASTE OF MY BLOOD - TASTE OF MY SPIRIT. THE VESSEL MUST BE CLEANSED, PREPARED, AND ANNOINTED!” Father Adelmo said as I sucked his brick-hard dick and the anonymous fingers scraped and dug and ripped up my hole as they coated my guts with the white powder. Other voices chimed in, all chanting in unison as I was plugged at both ends by these unholy men.

I cried out, my guts clenched, my body heaved and the fingers that had been digging in my ass quickly removed themselves and a soft cloth wiped, dabbed, and cleaned me. Father Adelmo lifted my head up and peered down at me, “You have begun the journey. Your body has rid itself of that which has been holding you back. You have dispelled a good portion of the inner lining of guts to ensure that you are ready to receive the gifts that are to come. You must pay the price to reach El Dorado, to find the one you seek, to become the sacrifice on the altar of man - for men - by men. Now my son, what do you say?” I was confused, in pain, high as fuck, and was having a difficult time focusing between the scalding burning in my ass, the hot man dick that had just been taken from my mouth, and the words that the Padre had spoken. What do I say? Yes? Please? Thank you? How the fuck did I know what he wanted? He was talking in riddles - just fuck me for god’s sake! I was raised a Baptist so all this formal religious overtone was a bit beyond my personal experience, but thanks to cable TV I knew enough I guess as I replied, “FORGIVE ME FATHER, FOR I HAVE SINNED.” I THEN GASPED AS THE THICK UNCUT DICK PUSHED THROUGH THE GLORYHOLE CUT INTO THE WOOD OF THE CONFESSIONAL, THEN THROUGH MY OUTER ASS RING. “YOU HAVE NOT SINNED YET MY SON,” FATHER ADELMO SAID, “BUT I SEE FROM THE ARCH OF YOUR BACK THAT YOU ARE ABOUT TO. HERE, SNORT THIS WHITE MANNA, FEEL THE BURN, AND LET BROTHER ROBERTO GIVE YOU YOUR PENANCE.”

Stay Tuned for Part 2 -

(*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

[SuccessfulChaser]

hot fucking story so far. please keep it up. i have enjoyed a lot of ritualized fucking and I recently had a couple loads of CRF19 laden cum driven into me by a beautiful caramel cuban cock. really great to see to of my fag fetishes rolled into on hot story. Hope your character enjoys getting flooded with CRF19 cum as much as I did.

[SlampaBay]

Fck hot. More please.

[TTFN]

Love the story, where's that church.

[Mikeyd1111]

Great story so far.  Where is this church so that I can kneel at that altar?  

Edited March 12, 2017 by Mikeyd1111

[redheadnsf]

Very fucking hot! thank you man for sharing this story with us! Please continue.

[Leatherman667]

Great story; more please when you can!

[breedmebare]

Wonder how much it would cost to fly to cuba

[bigbullets]

My kind of religion. More please!

[whthole4u]

Part 2: The thick wood wall held firm as Brother Roberto slammed his 10-inch dick through the velvet-covered hole and into my ass raw. I was happy to take whatever penance he offered as long as it got me closer to my goal - closer to the bug - closer to CRF19. I snorted two big lines off the golden platter and once I did, Father Adelmo stuck the end of his uncut Cuban dick back into my mouth and started chanting, “JOIN THE HOLY UNION. BE ONE WITH THE BODY. JOIN THE HOLY UNION. BE ONE WITH THE BODY.” The chanting picked up in tempo and volume as Father Adelmo pumped my throat and one of the Brother’s banged my ass. “TASTE OF MY BODY - TASTE OF MY BLOOD - TASTE OF MY SPIRIT!” the Father yelled as he stiffened, clutched the carved finials of the confessional window and grunted in unison as the good Brother swelled and flooded me at the other end. I tilted my head slightly up, which made Father Adelmo’s dick spurt his last drops onto the roof of my mouth. His head was thrown back in righteous ecstasy, the cords on his neck straining as I gave him a holy vision and swallowed his sacred seed. Finally spent, Father Adelmo relaxed, exhaled, looked down at me and set his hands on top of my head in blessing and thanks before easing his now semi-hard dick from my hungry gullet. Brother Roberto was not so kind and pulled out of my freshly fucked hole in one jerk, making me gasp. As the Brother’s seed settled in, Father Adelmo stepped out of the confessional, my curtain was pulled back, and Bob was there to help me stand. I was disappointed as I was hoping he had been the one fucking me, but when the curtain pulled back and another Brother stepped out, all I could think of was how to get more of dick back in my hole so I could turn it from pink and white to red and white - cherry vanilla swirl.

Father Adelmo settled himself in a high-backed, ornate chair, as a Brother held the platter out for him to snort from, another set a crystal glass full of a burgundy liquid to his side, and a third handed him a long braided cord heavy with golden beads. Bob - the Brother Roberto with the jagged scar on his temple - pushed me forward and motioned for me to kneel on a plush pillow by the Father’s seat. I tried to sit back, but was kicked, so back on my knees I arched my back, stretched, and was rewarded with another dip at the plate of white manna to snort. FUCK! Each hit burned more and more, but the shit was good whatever it was and the more I snorted, the more surreal the situation became and I chuckled a bit. The ornate plush room, in some warehouse type building, surrounded by guys who now - more so being high - all looked like clones - serving a twisted pig of a Padre. Damn! The golden beads on the braided cord made a soft, rhythmic noise as Father Adelmo ran the cord between the thumb and fingers of his left hand. He seemed lost in thought now and no one spoke a word. He snorted from the platter, a Brother carefully wiped the excess from his right nostril, then with pupils wide the Father turned to me and said - as if we had been in the middle of a conversation all along, “The CRF19 virus responds to antiviral treatment. But due to its fast progression rate, those who are diagnosed are done so too late for the therapy to work and their immune systems are unable to recover.” My dick twitched and I moaned. The Father went on, “While my sources inform me the strain has now reached epidemic proportions in Cuba, so far, it has not spread outside Cuba, with the exception of a few rare cases.” There was another pause as Father Adelmo snorted some more, the platter was held out for me and when I only snorted two lines, I was cuffed up side the head by Bob, so I snorted two more. Bob set his hand on my left shoulder in firm approval and squeezed. Father Adelmo titled his head, leaned forward, held my chin up with his right hand so that I could stare into the depths of his brown eyes and asked, “Are you willing to be the lamb that brings CRF19 back to my children?” I nodded, Father Adelmo smiled, and suddenly the room was full of motion and energy. My head was released, Father Adelmos leaned back in the chair, two of the Brothers Roberto stood side by side in front of me - one roughly grabbing my left wrist as the other wrapped a length of golden silk around it then holding the free end yanked my arm out to the side. My other wrist was done in turn and together; the Brother’s pulled me forward. I tried to stumble, but fell flat onto the carpeted floor and as I did, each ankle was grabbed and also wrapped and then pulled and soon as I lying flat with a Brother kneeling by each of my hands, the golden cloth wrapped around their fists, tying us together like a shepherd and a wayward sheep. My legs were splayed; Father Adelmo stood over my head, bent forward, and slid his braided cord of beads under my neck, looped it, and pulled. I choked and sputtered and he pulled harder.

While Father Adelmo was literally yanking my chain, a hard body lay on my naked back and a thick dick punctured my rectum anew. Being held down and throttled left me little choice but to take the dick that started to slowly push in, pull out, push back in. I then heard a loud snort above me and Father Adelmo began to chant, “TAKE THE BLESSING OF THE SEED. TAKE YOUR DELIVERANCE. I BLESS YOU MY SON. LET ME ABSOLVE YOU OF YOUR PAST LIFE AND ANOINT YOU FOR THE LIFE TO COME. THAT STARTS NOW. HERE AS I MARK YOU AS THE LAMB.” The thrusting in my ass paused, the cloth bindings pulled taught, Father Adelmo kneeled by my side-turned head and I felt a sharp slicing in first my left, then my right shoulder, followed by him rubbing his finger over each wound as he said, “BLOOD TO BLOOD UPON THE ALTAR OF MEN, SO SHALL YOU BE MARKED. ANOINTED. BAPTIZED BY ALL HE WHO COMES FORTH!” The man inside me started slam fucking hard, deep, fast, and the only sound he made as he filled with me his seed was a soft grunt. He immediately withdrew, there was a few seconds of shuffling as the cloth binding on my right ankle was shifted, then someone else lay on my back and they too began to fuck. Father Adelmo had stood back up, snorted, and continued to chant, “TAKE THE BLESSING OF THE SEED. TAKE YOUR DELIVERANCE. I BLESS YOU MY SON. LET ME ABSOLVE YOU OF YOUR PAST LIFE AND ANOINT YOU FOR THE LIFE TO COME.” The man in my ass filled me with sperm, more shifting, another big dick and I grunted as this one was a bit thicker, but they were all long - holy hell where did he find these men? I just took at least 30 inches and was there more coming? Apparently yes. “TAKE THE BLESSING OF THE SEED. TAKE YOUR DELIVERANCE. I BLESS YOU MY SON. LET ME ABSOLVE YOU OF YOUR PAST LIFE AND ANOINT YOU FOR THE LIFE TO COME.” The chant continued to ring and resound as one after another the five Brothers in the room shifted positions in turn and each fucked me raw, and filled my ass with their gifts. I don’t think any of them had nutted in a long time as not only did I feel the cum flow from my hole, but they came awful quick. This was not about enjoyment; it was about service and duty. Brother number five was getting ready to unleash his contribution inside me when Father Adelmo’s voice grew louder, “I BAPTIZE YOU - I BAPTIZE YOU - I BAPTIZE YOU.” the Brother filled me up and pulled out of my ass and within seconds as the Father yelled “I BAPTIZE YOU!” I felt a hot spray of cum blast from the Father’s dick as he jacked off standing over me, coating my shoulder wounds, my back, the side of my face. He then took a step back, straddled me once more, and I felt the powder of his chemical storm sprinkled over me and then the golden platter was dropped to the floor and discarded, no longer needed. It was snowing in Magic City - a chemical fallout. My wrists and ankles were released. Hot hands pressed my flesh, mouths and tongues found the chemical adornment the Father had dumped on my naked and used body, and as the Brothers slurped it up, they mixed the white powder in with the Father’s cum. It tickled, and I was jealous, and I was begging for someone to fuck me! Someone - I’m convinced it was Bob as he seemed to enjoy doing so - cuffed my head so I shut up and the Brothers finished licking, snorting, and using my sacrificed body as a drug buffet.

All restraints released I got my wish as the drugged up Brothers were horny and ready for round two, three, and four. I was hefted onto my hands and knees as one stuffed my mouth and another slammed his dick balls deep as he squatted behind me and pounded my wet sloppy hole. Rough fingers coated my nostrils, my ass burned from more chems shoved into my fuck chute. I was baptized, anointed, and made sacred over and over by their DNA. Some hours later Bob helped me up after I had been basted with Cuban cum like a Christmas turkey. He ushered me into a small room that had just a cot, washbasin, and a set of dark red, almost black clothes. Not black like the Brothers, but dark blood red like death. One of the young twinks from the chapel - now dressed in crisp whites and holding his head down in deference - brought in a small plate of food. When I asked him about the clothes he did not explain the whites but said, “The Brothers serve HIM! The Brothers are holy. They wear only black as a symbol of death and mourning for the lives we all lived and those that will be lost.” OK - yeah these fuckers were bat shit crazy, but hey, the dick was good so what did I care, right Dusk was slow to descend on the city, but as it did, Bob led me out of my monk cell to meet Father Adelmo who was confidently standing by the front door, his dark gray shirt buttoned all the way up. He smiled as I approached, nodded, and as he led me outside and walked me down the sidewalk, the Father spoke about his good works from the soup kitchens, to the hospice, to the daycare center and home for unwed mothers, and more.  The people of the neighborhood all waved, smiled, and shouted greetings, praises, and honorifics as our entourage strolled by - the Father, me, and a horde of Brother Robertos. I tried asking the Father when I would get to go to Cuba, how I would get there, what would happen then, and more, and with each question he shushed me and gave a dismissive little wave. Fuck - like I was a child! I had come all the way to Miami, had let him and his goon squad drug me up, fuck me, breed me (well OK, I DID like that), but still. The least he could do was give me answers. I huffed and was set to start another round of questions when Father Adelmo stopped by a cinder-block warehouse, a Brother slid back the large door, and Father said, “Peace my son. Brother Roberto will guide you and it will take a few days to make all the arrangements - that is if you have the money? You do? Good. Go and get it and return here. Brother Roberto will accompany you.” Father Adelmo then stepped into the darkness of the warehouse while Bob cuffed me and guided me down the sidewalk in the direction of my hotel. Wait, how did he know exactly where I was staying?

In my hotel Bob wasted no time forcefully pulling my issued pants down, mounting my hole raw, and soiling the clean sheets on the bed. I like a top who is verbal - he was not - but that big dick still felt great as he slammed me and so I begged for him to breed me. Clearly he’s a freaky fuck as he yanked his dick out, pulled a baggy of white powder from his pocket, and as I laid on my back with my legs up I watched as he licked his finger, coated it good, then proceed to finger fuck me and bump me higher. I was in heat and begged and pleaded and swore and prayed until Bob anointed me with some more of his seed. That finished, I opened the safe, got the cash I brought, Bob packed it into a backpack that he slung over his left shoulder, and we started back towards the warehouse. I was hyped and chatty, yet Bob deflected all my questions about the good Father with silence. Well the Brother Robertos/”Bob” might have taken a vow of silence but as I felt his cum leak from my ass I chuckled knowing celibacy or abstinence from drugs were not in his set of solemn promises. Even when I begged, “Please let me sin again and make me repent - right here in this alley,” Bob just looked at me all stone faced and silent and pushed me along. Damn him to hell! Back at the warehouse, Bob led me through the large door, into the dark cavern, past two Brothers standing guard with automatic rifles. Shit that was new. We followed the echoing voices, turned a corner and came into a room with a long, wooden table and a number of people hustling and bustling about. Father Adelmo was at the far end, he paused his conversation, waved us over, looked in the backpack fingered the stacks of cash, smiled, and nodded. Bob stepped away and left the room so I looked around. The dim bare bulbs dangling from the ceiling, swaying in the currents of air created by large fans hanging from the rafters, let me see that there were more men with guns coming and going and two others hunched over the table cutting open blue plastic bricks and dumping out packets of white powder. I squinted and realized the men with guns - in jeans, t-shirts, and caps, were Brothers Roberto. They had changed clothes. The men at the table sorting the baggies of powder were Brothers too and one of them looked up, winked, then went back to work. My ass twitched. I went to step closer, but someone put a hand on my shoulder to stop me. I turned, it was Bob, and he too had changed and had added a Miami Marlins baseball cap to his ensemble. Father Adelmo then walked over to me, handed me a baggy, and I turned it over to see the little symbol stamped in black on the back - an angel.

Father Adelmo opened the baggy, poured some in his hand and held it up for me to snort. Christ that burned and I swayed, he laughed and Bob steadied me. I shook my head to clear my mind and the Father said, “Tonight, you will go with Brother Roberto and will sell these to my people in need. I also must see how far you are willing to go to obtain the CRF19 virus. Yes, I praise you for today’s service, but there is more you must do.” He tapped the partially empty baggy and said, “THIS IS A NECESSARY EVIL AND ONE THAT ALLOWS ME TO DO ALL THE GOOD WORKS I SHARED WITH YOU AND MANY MORE. THOSE WHO PARTAKE ARE LOST - FOR NOW AT LEAST - AND TONIGHT SO SHALL YOU BE. A LOST SOUL, A BODY WITH NO SOUL THAT EXISTS ONLY FOR THE PLEASURE OF THE DOWN, OUT, DRUG ADDLED, AND DISEASE RIDDEN. YOU MUST PAY THE PRICE TO REACH EL DORADO, TO FIND THE ONE YOU SEEK, TO BECOME THE SACRIFICE ON THE ALTAR OF MAN - FOR MEN - BY MEN.”

(*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

 

[SuccessfulChaser]

Nice second chapter. Fucking hot and intense action. I hope there is more. It sure makes me wish my own pursuit of CRF19 was something close to this hot.

[KeineHier]

Fucking hot story so far! Looking forward to the next chapter!

[Hellboy]

Fucken hot story

[whthole4u]

Part 3: Father Adelmo said, “Tonight, you will go with Brother Roberto and will sell these to my people in need. I also must see how far you are willing to go to obtain the CRF19 virus. Yes, I praise you for today’s service, but there is more you must do.” He tapped the partially empty baggy of white powder and said, “THIS IS A NECESSARY EVIL AND ONE THAT ALLOWS ME TO DO ALL THE GOOD WORKS I SHARED WITH YOU AND MANY MORE. THOSE WHO PARTAKE ARE LOST - FOR NOW AT LEAST - AND TONIGHT SO SHALL YOU BE. A LOST SOUL, AN EMPY HUSK – A BODY THAT EXISTS ONLY FOR THE PLEASURE OF THE DOWN, OUT, DRUG ADDLED, AND DISEASE RIDDEN. YOU MUST PAY THE PRICE TO REACH EL DORADO, TO FIND THE ONE YOU SEEK, TO BECOME THE SACRIFICE ON THE ALTAR OF MAN - FOR MEN - BY MEN.” I turned as Bob held out his open palm that now had small mounds of white powder on it. He smiled as I took the rolled up bill he offered and snorted and I could tell he was thinking, “That’s it slut - be that good drug whore - I can’t wait to fuck that ass some more!” I shook the burn from my head as the powder slid through my nose, down my throat and hit my bloodstream. Father Adelmo smiled and said, “May you taste the plagues of man tonight and may the angel of death ride on your shoulder as you seek and chase and corrupt those before you.” Didn’t this guy ever just speak in plain English? Why all the riddles? If you want me to go find some buggy dick just say so. Father Adelmo was now focused on other things as Bob cuffed my head to get me to focus then pushed me back out the way we came with a stop at the dirty little restroom on the way. One thing about chems, a good hit and one visit and my guts are clean as a whistle for fucking hours and hours. Before we exited the warehouse Bob stopped, hefted his t-shirt, pulled a pistol out of his pant’s waistband, checked the chamber, slid it back, then methodically checked the contents of the rest of his pockets and the small backpack he was carrying that was our stash. The way he did all this - with efficient, precise movements - made me suddenly think ‘military’. One more mystery to solve about Bob.

 

Bob was a man on a mission and we had gone only a few blocks when he positioned himself at the end of an alley; his back against the corner of the building as his head swept side to side. A couple of cars passed, then Bob turned and walked down the alley and cut right into a small courtyard area formed by the back of a building. It was a warm night but there were a couple of small fires, mostly in cans, for illumination I guess as the sole street light in the alley had been busted. Eyes filled with sadness, pain, and misery turned at our approach; bodies tensed, hands grabbed the nearest bit of debris to use as a weapon if needed. Bob stopped and when I stopped too and looked at him he positioned the backpack on his shoulder, reached down, unbuttoned my blood red pants, then cuffed me so I would lean forward. He then opened a baggy, coated two fingers, and began roughly finger fucking me and slicking my hole with chems. My yelps of pain as he dug his nails into me, and the burn of the powder, gathered a crowd. Bob pulled his fingers out, I heard him lick them clean, and I turned and saw him hold up a small clump of baggies as he said, “IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER.” That must have been code for ‘fuck the chem slut’ as within seconds I had a rank BBC dick in my mouth and an anonymous dick was trying to find my hole. Took him a second to get his floppy dick up, but once he did he started bragging, “Wet white pussy guys. Shit, makes my dick burn! You think the blow will hurt those sores I got on my dick? Fuck hell - who cares right. How much of that we get?” The BBC in my mouth held my head, grunted, and fed me a load of cottage cheese. He stepped back, Bob handed him a baggy, “IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER,” and another guy took his place. Almost simultaneously the dick in my mouth and the one in my ass both cummed and withdrew and the guys shuffled off with payment for the fruit of their loins. Bob helped me stand up, I reached for a baggy, he cuffed my head and frowned, so I pulled my pants up. I almost jumped out of my skin when Bob then flashed a small pen light on and ran it up and down my pant legs, spit on a finger, wiped some dirt off the side, and totally ignored the few complaints from the Hell hound denizens of the courtyard. Satisfied, Bob led me back out to the streets and as we hustled down the blocks he would stop - to me seemingly randomly - hand one of the baggies of white powder with the angel mark on it to someone and say, “IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER.” Sometimes they had cash ready, which Bob deftly pocketed. Other times it did not look like they paid at all and I was having a hard time figuring out what the deal was. Our next stop was a little convenience store, or at least that’s what the front part was. We walked straight to the back, through a door, and then it was like a mini Adult Book Store (ABS) with a couple of booths, vids playing, guys getting sucked, and more. Bob continued on through the next door and we were met by a big bouncer looking dude holding a pistol. Shit! Bob held out a baggy, “IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER.” The bouncer opened the door behind him and the next room was stacked with boxes and shit and had a small table crammed in the middle that four guys were sitting around playing cards, smoking cigars, and drinking. Fuck I hate the smell of cigars. How can folks smoke that shit?

 

Words were briefly exchanged, all in Spanish so I had no idea what was said beyond once again recognizing the word ‘puta’. I guessed that was my cue so I unbuttoned my pants, the four men slid their chairs back, baggies were tossed on the table and quickly snatched as Bob cuffed my head and I bent over the table. Once again my hole was stuffed with white powder and slicked up with spit and raw dick as one after the other of the four men fucked me. The first three were quick and not that big, but the fourth - damn! Even drugged up I cried out as he pushed into me. He was fucking thick and my ass ring stretched and relaxed and stretched some more and then he was off. He fucked rough and brutal and I cried out, “YEAH FUCK ME LIKE A PRISON BITCH! POZ MY ASS! INFECT ME MAN!” Well, that must have been the Jeopardy phrase of the day because that mother-fucker went to town. “La papaya trying to get rape fucked huh? Eager for el bruto’s dick? Make that shit bleed good like a drive by. Hmmm…” The table kept skidding across the floor with every thrust until that dick had me - and it - jammed and stuffed to the max. After we left I told Bob I needed a break and had to use the restroom. He reached into his backpack and pulled out a small bottle of water then escorted me to another alley and pointed. Fine. Treat me like a poodle bitch. So I popped a squat and let my guts loose. While I didn’t have to ‘go-go’ all that cum and being stretched was just uncomfortable. I don’t care what tops think - you try to open your hole up, take all that dick, and get filled with cum and whatever and you try to hold it in. It ain’t healthy man - although I guess maybe that’s the point. One must suffer to face divinity. Bob parked himself at another corner, pulled out a cell phone and typed a text. He stuck the phone in his pocket and closed his eyes like he was fucking napping while totally ignoring me, my questions, and the rest of the fucking world. A few minutes later I heard a deep rumble. Bob opened his eyes, stood up straight, and a bright, red convertible careened around the corner, and drove slightly past us until the driver slammed on the brakes. The car went into reverse, came to a jarring stop, and the driver turned, laid his right arm on the back of the seat and said, “Hola.” Bob walked around the back of the car to the driver’s side door and bent over and spoke with the owner. I stepped closer. They were speaking in Spanish so once again I was clueless as to what was being said. Nice car, red outside, black leather seats, looked like a classic that was restored to pristine condition. The driver was Latin. Tall, well-defined body, white pants and a red silk shirt open to his waist. He had a pair of gold-rimmed sunglasses on his head, even though it was dark out and gold rings on both hands and a gold watch that he was tapping against the steering wheel as Bob spoke.

 

The car engine revved, Bob stepped away, the car drove off and turned a corner and Bob began walking after it. I hustled to catch up, and two streets over I saw the glimmer of the red hood peeking out of a dark alley. Bob cuffed my head. I stepped into the darkness, and saw the outline of the driver leaning against the wall, muttering to himself. Bob shined his penlight. The driver’s white pants were unzipped and the biggest dick I had seen yet in Miami was being beat hard. It was super thick, long, uncut, but what made me gasp was how it looked - it was riddled with boils and pestilence and even from where I was standing I could smell the reek of gangrene or death. Bob cuffed me, I started to object, so he cuffed me harder then opened a baggy, let me snort my fill, and proceeded to coat my ass pucker and waited. The driver of the convertible was still mumbling to himself and jacking his dick and I was not sure he was aware we were event there until Bob said, “IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER.” The puss filled dick was hard and ready and the driver’s eyes were now open as he stepped away from the wall, pushed me against his car and rammed his diseased dick inside me. The biblical Plagues of Egypt entered my body all at one - entombed as they were in this shaft of destruction - this Latin death stick. I was repulsed and hornier than I had ever been at the same time and pushed my ass back. I wanted him to rip me open, to fuck me, to rape me, to infect me - but hell I needed some more drugs first. I tried to push him off me with no luck but good old Bob knew and reached around, held out his palm full of chems and said, “IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER.” My ass was bloody, ripped, raw, and full of diseased cum and drugs and I was the happiest I could ever remember being! Even Bob had some pep in his step as he handed out the last of his baggies then as we hustled our way back to the warehouse he stopped me at a little corner park, yanked my pants down, slammed me raw against a bench, and yelled “OH DOS MIOS!” as he blew a load into my used man pussy just as an older man walked by with his little dog on a leash.

 

The next day was an ongoing orgy of drugs, dick, life and death all hanging in the balance. When I confessed my sins in to Father Adelmo in the morning, he smiled and said, “That is good my son. The body must be worn down, weak, and destroyed to receive the gift of the CRF19 virus.” The good Father and the Brothers Roberto then anointed me again, over and over, with their holy oils and bodily fluids. That night I followed Bob as he made his rounds passing out the little baggies full of drugs all marked with the angel symbol. I sucked a couple guys, got fucked by a couple, but then he led me into an ABS that was filthier than some of the alleys. The volume of the generic music coming out of the yard sale speakers was extremely loud and clashed with the volume of all the porn playing in the booths, which appeared to be set at MAX on every one. I guess you didn’t need tokens in this place. The hallway we entered was long, dark, covered in dried piss, cum, and littered with old condoms, needles, crusted paper towels, and more. There was even a homeless guy passed out on the floor that the patrons had just shoved to the side against the wall so they could walk past him. Bob made his way to back end of the hall, turned right, and there under the dim light of the EXIT sign three very rough looking dudes were standing, smoking, chatting. They turned, smiled, and greeted Bob warmly before their eyes settled on me - all hungry, feral, and trying to decide if they wanted to fight me or fuck me. “You hungry for some bugarrón pinga?” the tallest of the three dudes said as he stepped past Bob and grabbed my wrist with his muscular, tatted up left hand and arm. I tried to take a step back and he laughed, yanked me closer, “That ass trying to do battle with some big dick? You ever been invaded by three rough el matón?” In answer Bob stepped close, waved a small fist full of baggies and said, “In the name of the Father.” The baggies were snatched, powder snorted, and in no time flat I was buck ass naked in the ABS hallway with a bugarrón muffling my yelps of pain with his big right hand while jamming powder coated fingers up my nose. One of his thug buddies was raping me dry, raw, and brutal as Bob stood to the side, casually checking his phone. I expected our action would draw a crowd, but anytime I looked to where the hallways met no one was there. I guess those straight thugs I was serving had a reputation of ‘keep the fuck out of our business’. Fine by me.

 

“Open that bitch hole up,” the second bugarrón said as he dug his fingers in my just nutted ass. “Damn fag you can take some dick. Let’s see what skills you got when that pussy on fire from this good angel mix.” I moaned in pain as he now worked in a coating of drugs from the baggies Bob had handed out and my squirming only turned my assailant on more. This time I was bent over and my mouth and throat stuffed with expired sausage as my ass was stretched, stuffed, and renovated. The third guy, who might have been the shortest - yet still taller than me - had the longest dick of the three. He laid me on my back on the dirty hallway floor, “I like seeing a bitch’s eyes roll back when I bottom out,” he explained. He pinned my legs back, angled his dick, “Ready?” then laughed as he slammed in and I gasped and squirmed. He made no effort to go straight in, but focused on hitting me at an angle and scraping my walls as he slid down my chute. His rolls of foreskin felt amazing as they slid back and forth over his shaft, massaging my innards. I would have begged for it or pleaded, but he was slamming me so hard into the floor all I could do was grunt as the breath was pounded from my lungs with each drop of his body onto mine. “HERE COMES MY FUCKING LOAD BITCH - YOU READY TO GET BOTTOMED OUT? READY TO GET A HARDCORE DICK DOWN? OPEN THAT FUCKING CUNT - OPEN IT - OPEN - IT - FUCK YEAH - YOUR EYES ROLLING BACK NOW BITCH - DUMB CUNT - DUMB - OH SHIT - FILLING YOU UP!”  The guy pulled out, stood up, shook the sweat from his face, grabbed a baggy and snorted as I stayed on the floor trying to catch my breath. He kicked me, “Stand and up and bend over, let me admire my handiwork masterpiece.” My legs were cramped, but I did, and felt a stream of nutt start flowing down my backside. He slapped my ass, “Fuck guys look at that gaping hole - twitching. You need it filled some more? Need some more strokes to paint that hole right? Hungry el maricón!” I grabbed my pants figuring we were done but the bugarrón who had just loaded me slapped my face, pushed me against the wall with his hand to my throat, his eyes wild. “Where you going off to? I ain’t done. They might be dry but my dick still dripping and I want to fuck that pussy while I watch my favorite titty flick as I get my nympho fuck on.”  I was still naked as the straight, Latin thug pushed me down the hall, past a couple of gawkers who quickly scurried away. He shoved me into a booth, slid the latch on the door to lock it, pushed me roughly to the side as he hit the button on the wall and started flipping through movies until he found the one he wanted. “Shit gets me hard every time,” he said as I glanced at his vid of choice. He then grabbed me with both hands, pulled me close, bent his head down and while holding me in a death grip he started biting my nipples as hard as he could and moaning and groaning as he turned them to hamburger. I tried to pull away and he just backed me against the wall, body pinning me as he slurped, chewed, bit, and abused my chest. “Rape me and give me some more salsa,” I gasped. The Latin thug paused, raised his head, grabbed my skull with both hands and while looking at me spit in my face and said, “Oh yeah?” His arm came up, the forearm now over my throat as he pinned me and started biting my nipples intent on drawing red. Once he did, he looked at me, licked his lips, gripped my throat in his left hand and squeezed while with his right he shoved three fingers between my legs, found my ass, and started clawing, digging, and trying to get his hand in further. I inched up on my tippy toes and he smiled and pushed and clawed harder. He kept glancing at the porn on the screen, his eyes wide, his lips curved in a sinister smile. He then looked at me, held his right hand in position wedged in my hole, removed his left arm from my neck and gave me a hard slap on the face. I yelped and reflex brought my right arm up to touch my reddening check. “NO!” he yelled at me as he pointed a finger at the tip of my nose, then as I lowered my hand he slapped me again, then added a backhand as I turned the other cheek. Another glance at the vid, his sneer grew larger, then looking at me - SLAP SLAP - as his fingers dug deeper into my gut lining.

 

“This is my favorite part,” the bugarrón said as he yanked his hand out of my shredded hole, turned me towards the wall, put a death grip/choke hold with his hands around my throat and drove his eager dick back into my hungry ass. I tried to tell him again to rape me - not like he wasn’t already, but you know, being in the moment and all wanted to let him know I wanted it. “Shhh bitch - I know,” he said, “I know.” He then spit on the back of my head, squeezed my neck tighter in his hands, and bent me forward a little so he could angle his dick in my ass deeper with each thrust. I focused on breathing through my nose, and relaxing my hole. He kept squeezing and pounding – tighter and harder and as the edges of my vision began to turn black his pace picked up, his fingers pushed, and my line of sight became a small tunnel of light. Right as the end of the tunnel seemed a step away, my Latin rapist released my neck. I was flooded with fresh air and stimuli and he reached around my body, grabbed by bitten nipples, squeezed them as hard as he could while planting his teeth into the left side of my neck right above where it meets the collarbone where he bit down hard. I GASPED AS HE CRUCIFIED MY BODY FOR HIS GLORY AND FILLED ME WITH HIS SEED. Finally spent, the bugarrón unlatched the door, stepped out and said to Bob who was calmly standing there with my clothes in hands in a pile, “Bring this one back.” I could tell Bob was pleased, but he just smiled as I got dressed and before we left he opened a baggy for me and let me snort out. As I shook the burn from my head and stretched, Bob caught sight of the bruises forming on my neck, and the red depths of the orgasmic bite. Without a word Bob used his left hand to pry my head to the side and latched his mouth onto the mark ensuring it would show for days to come. Once we left the ABS, I knew what I wanted - the guy in the convertible. When I told him, Bob smiled, got on his phone and as we walked, he handed out the baggies of drugs with the angel mark, saying to each parishioner in turn, “IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER.”

 

Back at the same alley as the night before I froze when my plague carrying trade came into view. The guy was leaning against the wall again but his festering dick was already occupied by some little twink on his knees slurping it like a snow cone. Bob cleared his throat; the guy saw us, smacked the kid’s head and said something to him then kicked at him to enforce the point. The kid mouthed back, Bob stepped forward and handed him a baggy, “IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER.” The kid shrugged and scurried out of the alley. “Ready to breed some juicy ass? Jizz my pussy?” I asked. In no time flat I was on my hands and knees in the alley with that festering dick slamming as deep as he could go. My knees were being scraped, my palms were getting scratched up, but I didn’t care, I just needed that disease riddled dick to push all that buggarónes cum deeper then send me into religious ecstasy as he impregnated me with his own.

 

The next morning, Bob met me at my little monk cell and instead of going to the confessional, led me outside, down the sidewalk, and to a house on a quiet neighborhood street. Father Adelmo met us on the porch, put his arm around my shoulder, and once we were inside I kneeled on the floor in front of him and bowed my head. He set the palms of his hands on my scalp in blessing and praise for my lecherous work and as I looked up into his eyes he said, “Welcome to Casa des Santos - the house of the saints - the hospice my charity work funds. And this - this room here to the right with a view of the garden, will be your room – a place of honor.” I was confused, and looked at him quizzically, “My room?” Father Adelmo furrowed his brow, pursed his lips at my ignorance and said, “Why yes my son. I assure you - you will find El Dorado and you WILL be infected with the CRF19 virus, but then what? Where will you go? You will have a place here and in that time I will ensure you are blessed and anointed more than you can handle as you share your new gifts with my flock.” I was trying to take that in when the Father added, “Now. You must go and pack. The boat leaves tonight and tomorrow night - yes tomorrow night - you shall find what you seek in Cuba. Your body has been destroyed, your soul is secure, your holy mission awaits. El Dorado shall fill you with his immaculate seed and with your body blossoming with the last of his life, you shall return here. You will have all you could desire as you share your gift.” In closing, he held out an extra large bag of white powder, “IN MY NAME YOU ARE THE SACRIFICE ON THE ALTAR OF MAN - FOR MEN - BY MEN.”

Stay Tuned for Part 4

(*From the author: If you like the story let me know - post a reply or give a reputation. Thanks to everyone who takes the time to read these stories and for the continued support!)

[TTFN]

Looking forward to his trip to Cuba.