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I bite my lip and moan as Scrap kneels behind me. He replaces his fingers with his firm, hot tongue.
My moan isn’t the only one filling the barn. Brawn releases a groan like a grizzly bear coming out of hibernation.
“You like what you’re seeing, son? This making you hot?”
His nod is jerky. His lids are lowered. He licks his lips. “Yes, Reverend.”
“I wish you could know how good it feels,” I say. “Your brother’s tongue—fuck—” At that moment, Scrap wiggles it inside my hole. “Feel’s sofuckinggood.” My voice is strangled. “Don’t you wish you could feel what I’m feeling?”
“Yes, Reverend.”
Scrap rises up behind me, and his fingers are back, this time coated with cool, slick lube. The invasion of a single finger is a heavenly treat. My head drops to the blanket. “Yes, son. Yes.”
“Anything for you, Reverend.” Scrap kisses between my shoulder blades while he slowly fucks his finger in and out of me.
“My obedient son. My faithful boy.”
“Fuuuck.”Brawn’s groan draws my gaze to him again, and he’s arching forward, crotch seeking something, anything.
“Mind those bonds,” I say. My breath catches as Scrap adds a second finger. “Keep those pants on. It’s not time for you to join the sacrament, yet.”
Another jerky nod. His cheeks are ruddy above his beard. “Trying,” he grits out between clenched teeth.
“Don’t fail me, son.”Don’t fail yourself.“You can do this. You can rein it in.”
“I can. I can. I can.” The chant falls from his lips like a prayer.
“Yes, you can. And soon, it’ll be time for you to join in the sacrament. Would you like that?”
His eyes widen. “Very much, Reverend.” Oh, yes. He’s eager, my big boy. I feel myself smile as Scrap scissors his fingers inside me.
“Yesss,”I hiss. “Stretch me, son.”
Scrap’s only answer is the movement I feel in my back hole. The pain-pleasure of the stretch feels so good my hips start jerking. If not for the blanket he draped over the hay, I’d be scratching up the head of my dick.
“Now,” I command. “Take me now, my son.”
I don’t have to look at Brawn to know his gaze is locked on my backside. But I do look. He’s massive and magnificent, and like a good boy, he’s respecting the ties on his wrists and the denim caging his cock.
Scrap’s dickhead kisses my asshole. One trembling hand grips my hip, and the other rubs circles over my lower back. My loving boy. So gentle when he begins to make love to me, so considerate of my pleasure.
My eyes want to close as he eases inside my ready hole, but I hold them open. Brawn’s expression is worth the effort. His jaw loosens. His hips hump forward. His breath comes out in shaky puffs.
“It’s time, my son,” I say on a groan. “Are you ready to help your brother pleasure the Reverend?”
A slack-jawed nod is Brawn’s response.
Scrap continues the slow, forceful glide until he’s fully seated within me. The stretch is magical. Just like this moment between the three of us.
“Ready your Gift, son,” I tell Brawn. Scrap holds still. My intuitive boy awaits further instruction. “To complete the sacrament, you must use your Gift to suck my cock while your brother fucks me. Do you think you can do that?”
His moan is a desperate cry. But I need to hear the words.
“Tell me, my son. Can you do this for your Reverend? Can you help us complete this offering to the Working?”
He gives me a shaky, “Yes, Reverend.” Then his gaze lowers to his prize. My cock. I don’t have to look down to know it’s an angry purple. Veined and hot, it jabs rudely at the air, craving attention.
I angle myself toward him so he can see what he’s doing, and Scrap moves easily with me. Then I feel it. Warmth and pressure. A faint bite of wetness. Fuck. Is that his saliva? Am I actually feeling what Brawn’s mouth would feel like? I’m enveloped in hot sensation as if my dick is being sucked into a cozy, caressing glove tailor made for me and me alone.
