Date: Thu, 20 Jan 2005 17:25:27 -0800 (PST)
From: GH JUNKKIE <gh_professional@yahoo.com>
Subject: "The Sexorcist", Pt 3

The Sexorcist
PART THREE

By Mr. GloryholeJUNKIE
Gh_professional@yahoo.com


OTHER STORIES BY THE AUTHOR ALSO ON NIFTY* (in no particular order of
either chronology or ejaculatory quality):

"The Old Man and the Sea"
b/t/t/t/t/t/M oral/anal, cum ingestion, dominant teens, restroom
gay/adult-youth/old-man-and-the-sea

"Super Bowl Game Plan"
t/t/M/M/M/M/M/M/M/M/M/...(well, a football stadium of M), restroom,
gloryholes, oral, incest, copious cum ingestion
gay/encounters/superbowl-game-plan

"The Family Business"
t/M/M/M/M/M/M/M/M/M/M/M/M oral-anal, restrooms, gloryholes, adult
bookstore, incest, copious cum ingestion
gay/adult-youth/family-business

"My Dad, The Homo Zombie"
b/b/M/M/M/M/M, incest, restroom, generational disparity, cum ingestion,
mind control
gay/adult-youth/my-dad-the-homo-zombie

"Go, Wildcats, Go!"
b/b/b/b/b/M, oral, generational disparity

"A Christmas Present for Daddy" (recent, ongoing)
b/b/b/M/M, oral-anal, incest, generational disparity
gay/incest/christmas-present-for-daddy

"Letters From Home"
b/M, incest, restroom, ped, true accounts from actual reader's lives

"Gloryhole Employment"
M/M/M/M/M/M, gloryhole as a service station, manipulative, mild gender
confusion


"The Lewd and Lascivious Mr. Andersen"
b/ped/M/M, oral-anal, adult theaters, generational disparity, incest

"Roman Holiday"
M//M/M/M/M/M/M, all-adult orgy
gay/encounters/roman-holiday

"My Dad, the Cocksucker"
b/M/M/M, oral-anal, incest, adult theater, orgy, gangbang

"The Golf Course Cock Tees"
t/ M//M/M/M/M/M/M, oral-anal, intergenerational orgy
gay/adult-youth/golf-course-cock-tees

"Tales From The Mall"
b/t/M//M/M/M/M/M/M, oral, restroom, gloryholes
gay/adult-youth/tales-from-the-mall

"The Twelve Cocks of Christmas"
b/t/M//M/M/M/M/M/M/Santa Claus, oral, incest, cum ingestion, generational
disparity
gay/adult-youth/twelve-cocks-of-christmas

"The Rialto" (recent, ongoing)
b/M//M/M/M/M/M/M, oral-anal, adult theater, gangbang, generational disparity
gay/adult-youth/the-rialto

"Dad's Private Peep Show"
b/t/M/M, oral, restroom, cum ingestion, generational disparity
gay/adult-youth/dads-private-peep-show

"The Builder and his In-Home Peepshow" (unrelated to story above)
Bi/M/M, oral-anal, adult arcade, restroom, bareback breeding
bisexual/encounters/builder-and-his-in-home-peepshow

"Whoring With Dad"
b/b/M/M//M/M/M/M/M/M..., oral-anal, gangbang, ped, cum ingestion, incest,
restrooms, gloryholes, locker rooms, gangbang, generational disparity



The Sexorcist
PART THREE


I acknowledged to the men that the conduct of the clergy has not been
exemplary and that, indeed, a very high ratio within have been proven
culpable of severe pedophilic sins. We discussed the fact that, perhaps, as
many as one out of every two males in the clergy, according to independent
sources, are either actively or latently guilty of such desires.

I shared with them, withholding both their names and diocese, of course
(being our very own diocese, as you know), the circumstances surrounding
the removal and reassignment to other dioceses of Fathers Stephen Clark and
Raymond Lewpinski. Yet, upon hearing that for fifteen years, these priests
operated a child prostitution ring - renting out boys as young as two years
of age - from the very Sacristy of their church, none of the three men at
the table appeared the slightest bit shocked.

In fact, the men then told me about their own local priest, a Father John
Delany (now deceased) who, for decades, performed sex acts upon scores of
small children.

"He blew all of us boys in town", Mr. Fries stated simply. "From the time
we were six, seven, he'd be in your pants. When we were kids, we all knew
about Father D. If you wanted a blowjob, go to Father D. - every kid in the
parish knew that. And, damn, it ain't a secret I'm telling you when I say
that we fellas all knew the old coot was still blowing kids up until he
died."

"Hell, and you gotta figure that our own dads musta known, too", Mr. Keenan
observed as he spoke to his friend. "Think about it. He was pastor here
since the late forties. And he had to have been doing that same shit back
then, too. Fifty, nearly sixty years of sucking kids' cocks. You got to
wonder how many of our dads Father D. blew, too. Don't you? What a racket
that guy had for himself with use of that collar."

I told them that, as has been so publicly demonstrated, the Church in the
last few years and all around the world has seen come to light many
outrageously egregious acts by its clergy. Yet, Your Eminence, I was quick
to remind them that the sins of the Church were neither the topic of this
investigation nor why I had come to Port Landings.

But due to this revelation about their former parish priest, I had to ask
the men if any of them felt that the child's father, or the child himself,
may have fallen victim of this priest.

"Since Father D. died after the kid was born...", Mr. Fries testified, "Who
can say? I mean, it could well be the old guy was in the kid's diapers. Who
knows."

"So Father Delany was alive at the time of the child's birth?", I asked.

"Oh, yeah", Mr. Keenan replied. "He even baptized him. Ben and I were
there, in fact. At the Baptism, I mean."

"In fact, come to think of it, Father D. passed away...", Mr. Fries began
to say, but then appeared to think some more before continuing, "Well, he
officiated at the funeral of Beth - that's Tom's wife. But then, didn't he
die like just a couple of days after that? Isn't that weird? That never
occurred to me before."

I asked the men how Father Delany had died. And they all agreed that it had
been stated in both the local newspaper, "The Tidal Times", and later, at
Mass at St. Agnes Catholic Church the following week, that the seventy-nine
year old priest had died as he drove off Crabcake Bridge. Cardiac arrest
was proven the cause of the single vehicle accident. I noted their
assertions for later investigation.

"Who knows, you guys. Before he died, the old guy sure as hell may well
have been gumming the Smith baby's dick. And his dad's, too, for all we
know.", Mr. Mendricks stated simply. "But what we're talking about
concerning that kid is something else all together. Let me put it this way,
padre, let's say that Father D. was all we know he was. It still ain't
nothing compared to the acts I seen the kid performing on men."

"And you among them. Correct?", I asked for reconfirmation.

"Yeah, me among 'em, Father. Like Frank and Ben here, too. Fuck, like
nearly every guy who ever went to Midnight Books or worked along the
wharves or drove down US-201 through this here town", Mr. Mendricks
asserted. "You think hundreds of guys in Port Landings all wanted to fuck a
little kid? Or that strangers just passing through ever for a second
thought they'd be sticking their dicks into a three, four, five year old?
Come on. That alone got to tell you something, padre."

I was taken aback at the bar owner's last statement. I asked him to explain
what he was suggesting.

"Yeah, you heard me right, Father", he answered. "We aren't talking a cock
here or a cock there being pushed into this kid's mouth. We're talking
hundreds of 'em."

"That's why we wrote those letters to the Pope and to Cardinal Beene,
Father", Mr. Fries interjected. "You think that if we just saw Tom or one
or two other guys porking the kid, we'd have written to the Vatican? Hell
no."

"The kid's fucking possessed, Father", Mr. Keenan stated quietly as he grew
ashen. "There ain't no two ways about it."

"No doubt there's something that lives inside that kid...or inside that
house", Mr. Mendricks stated. "Otherwise. How do you explain the way he got
me and four of my best buddies who were up here visiting from Florida to do
shit to him we'da never in a million years done otherwise. I don't know if
you'd call it evil or just what's going on at that hell house on Wharf
Parkway. But something's not right there. It still sends fucking goosebumps
along my flesh just thinking about what he got us to do to him. And I never
fucked a little kid before him. So I know it's the kid and not us, Father",
Mr. Mendricks firmly stated.

Your Eminence, only because I know you will fully and intimately understand
what I am about to confess am I able to write the following. Upon hearing
the bar owner's admission of group pedophilic sex with the child, my own
arousal became almost too much to bear. I sensed that I shared with these
men the same physical, libidinous response to hearing all these dark
revelations about a child so young. Therefore, I cannot bear false witness
to my own sinful nature. Beneath the table, my own engorged sexuality
threatened to rip its way through the confines of my slacks. I pray
forgiveness for that. But it is something that neither I, nor most any
other man I would attest, could have fended off from happening.

I do not know why I had such a palpably lustful response to such filth of
sexuality or even the potentiality of actual demonic involvement. But like
these others, I, too, struggled between the prayerful desire to save this
small child from whatever forces propelled him into such a salacious
existence and the deeper, perhaps even stronger lust to partake in these
same sinful acts with him. As I know that only you may understand, it tore
at my own conscience. For, something within me secretly envied these men
the lurid pleasure that each had experienced inside this child so hungry
for men.

At best, if the child were merely the focused prey of collective sexual
abuse, I wanted to be next in line to add to his abuse.

And, if he were possessed, I fear that I, too, could easily, even
willingly, succumb to the aiding in the satanic whoring of this child.

In other words, as I talked to these men, I knew that I was within either
the grips of my own black lusts or tethered in the lasso of the evil one
himself, Satan.

I tried to hide my own selfish arousal but I wonder if it were possible as
I spoke to these men. For they were men still under my suspicions for,
perhaps, being co-conspirators in a widely spread sexual ring targeting one
young boy.

I asked Mr. Mendricks to recount his first, personal encounter with the
child in question. He was clearly struggling with the decision to tell me
more. And yet he said that he had to tell someone as its been weighing
heavy on both his conscience and his soul ever since.

He told me that the incident happened slightly more than two years ago,
when the child was but three years of age. He disclosed that it occurred
when four of his military veteran friends came to Port Landings for a
reunion visit. Like Mr. Mendricks, each of these friends had also served as
officers in both Viet Nam and Desert Storm. For that reason especially, he
refused to reveal their full names for this investigation.

Prior to that particular visit, none of these four other men had personally
seen their friend, Mr. Mendricks (nor he, any of them) in over five years,
although, during that time, all had kept in regular contact with he and his
family (and vice versa) through correspondence and telephone calls. But, in
fact, this would prove to be a first visit ever to Port Landings for each
of the other four men.

According to Mr. Mendricks, it was just after ten o'clock on the first
evening that these four friends had arrived when events began to
unfold. The four other men stayed in two rooms at The Sadie McIntosh House,
the small 19th century inn located only a few doors down the street from
Pelican Beaks. (It is also the establishment where I am staying during the
duration of this investigation).

Upon the morning of their arrival, Mr. Mendricks said that he had picked up
his friends at the airport in Chazington. And directly from there they went
out on a charter boat in the Bay of Port Landings where they fished for the
remainder of the late morning and into early afternoon.

Then, after parting for two hours, in which time his friends went to their
inn, they all met up again later at Mr. Mendricks bar, Pelican Beaks. It's
there that he and his friends dined, watched a football game and played
pool with other patrons.

It is then, at ten p.m., or shortly thereafter, that Mr. Mendricks says the
bar began to clear out. Since the men had decided to go fishing again early
the following morning, Mr. Mendricks said that he decided to leave early
with this friends in order to walk them back to their inn. As it was a
Tuesday night, it was not at all unusual that on such slow business
evenings he often left earlier than the bar's regular, midnight midweek
closing time. Mr. Mendricks said that he left his longtime cashier to lock
up that night.

He planned to accompany his friends along the route back to the inn, at
which point, he would then continue home to his own house, only blocks
further away.

It's within only two blocks of Pelican Beak and as they began heading east
- along Wharfside Parkway - that things - strange things were heard by all
five men.

I asked Mr. Mendricks what sort of things they began to hear that
evening. And at first, he could not quite explain or imitate the noises
they heard.

"It was like a voice", he stated. "But not really. I mean, we thought it
was voice at first - someone calling to someone. But then my pal, Bill,
said it sounded like a cat. We even started joking that some tom cat was
getting his nut good."

"So you're saying it was a cat? Did you see a cat?", I asked.

"It wasn't no cat", Mr. Mendricks said. "I mean, I know that now. We
thought it was a cat until we heard it get louder and stranger. I mean, my
daughters have cats and, yeah, cats can make pretty weird sounds when they
need to fuck. But this was even weirder than that."

I asked him if any words, or vocabulary, were discernable to either him or
any of his friends. And his reply was, "No. In fact, we stopped in our
tracks to listen to it better. It was a real calm night that night - no
breeze even - so we could hear it clearly. I remember we even laughed when
Pete, my buddy of thirty-five years, told us to shush so we could listen
closer."

"Were you or any of your friends inebriated at the time?", I asked. "After
all, you stated that you were all leaving your bar after an evening of
eating and drinking."

"I hardly ever touch the stuff - been around it too much probably. Maybe
Bill had a slight buzz going", he answered. "But I don't even think he did
really. I mean, sure, he likes his Coronas but he's no lush. And I know
lushes firsthand - what with owning this here place. And the other guys?
Damn, they mighta had a beer or two but nothing to make them ranting drunks
hearing voices. Fuck, padre, one of my buds only drinks...what's that diet
shit? Pepsi One or whatever."

Then as if preempting my next avenue of questioning, he added, "We weren't
five drunks in the middle of Wharfside Parkway, if that's where you're
leading. Hell, I'm a business owner in this town. I don't get knock down
drunk in the middle of the street. And my buddies were going back to
Sadie's to get some sleep so we could go fishing at first light. What we
heard wasn't from the bottom of a bottle...or in our heads."

"You heard that call from the kid's house, didn't you?", Mr. Fries then
asked. "That freaking weird assed voice was calling from the kid's room. Am
I right?"

Mr. Mendricks nodded his acknowledgement of what both Mr. Fries and
Mr. Keenan appeared to know full well and personally.

The bar's owner related to us that he long knew of certain rumors
circulating about "some unidentified kid in town" who was supposedly making
men cum in his mouth by calling to them from his nursery. But he never took
the thought of such stories at all seriously. When a good friend of his, a
local diesel mechanic at the marina, swore to him one night (and this is
what Mr. Mendricks told me verbatim) "This little kid...a little boy was
begging for my meat, Wendt...begging so much, he was almost yelling at me
to ram my meat down his throat", the idea of such an act or such a child
was so beyond the bar owner's comprehension, that, as he admits, he doubted
the story when told to him by even this trusted childhood friend. "I mean,
who'd believe such a thing?", Mr. Mendricks asked as we sat in the corner
booth.

"Although it was coming from such a trusted friend?", I asked. "And yet you
doubted his account."

"Well, who the fuck's ever heard of a baby boy using some form of force to
get men to screw him?", Mr. Mendricks replied. "Nobody would believe such a
story."

"It's unbelievable until you see it...witness it for yourself, that is",
Mr. Fries added. "Even now, Father, we could tell you a hundred instances
of that kid making men do stuff to him when instead all you'd have to do is
see it once for yourself and you'd know."


I asked Mr. Mendricks to continue his accounting of what happened when his
military friends were in town and he said that upon listening, the cat-like
mewing continued.

"Did it grow louder?", I asked. "Did it disturb others in surrounding
buildings or houses?"

"No, that's partly what's so eerie," Mr. Mendricks said. Then, as he rubbed
his forearms, he added, "Just thinking about it still sends the shivers
through me. Cuz, no, it didn't get louder. It's hard to explain..."

"It just gets more intense", Mr. Keenan stated. "Am I right?"

"That's what it is", Mr. Mendricks affirmed. "It's loud but it's like a
cat-in-heat loud. And then its not that it grows any louder - it just gets
more intense, more forceful. As if it doesn't want to leave you alone. Like
you can't ignore it."

 "And you gotta find out where its coming from", Mr. Fries said. "Its
points you right to where you got to go look."

"EXACTLY!", Mr. Mendricks declared. "That's exactly what it does. It's
something you can't - and in some ways don't want to ignore. So me and my
buddies had to follow it, you know, find out where it was coming from and
what was making the sound."

AT that point, the bar owner, like the other two men seated at the table,
became obviously nervous about the details of his own involvement which he
knew he needed to reveal to me. He hemmed and hawed as he seemingly tried
to find the right words. I again reassured him that any acts he would
describe could never be held against him. I told him that I was there to
investigate a suspected case of possession. But that, also, as a
psychiatrist and as a priest, I was at their disposal should they need any
variety of psychological help and spiritual consolation.

Mr. Mendricks said that what he had to describe to me from his own lips was
too awful a thing for anyone not involved to ever hear uttered. "I'm on the
Chamber of Commerce and got a wife and kids. I can't take any risks", he
said as he slid his large, tall frame out of the booth. He then looked
around the establishment and seeing it empty (as it was now approximately
11:30 in the evening), he called out to his employee. "Hey, Manuel! Why
don't you head on home for the night. I'll be talking to my pals here and
its slow. Go on home early, why don't you."

Mr. Fries and Mr. Keenan took the opportunity and excused themselves as
they said they needed to use the restroom. As they slipped out of the
booth, I could hear a male voice thank Mr. Mendricks and I then watched as
Mr. Mendricks went to the back of the bar, where I presume the kitchen was
located. In only moments, he returned to my side at the corner table.

Your Eminence, I tell you the following only because I know that you, more
than anyone, will understand and realize I was being but a frail mortal
being. When the owner of Pelican Beak came up to the table again, my eyes
could not help but be diverted to his loins where it seemed apparent to me
that although the man was distressed on many levels, his ample crotch
betrayed his excitement in what we were discussing. It was not my
projecting upon his mood, but, rather, I can state that he clearly was
visually aroused within his trousers. Perhaps that arousal was caused only
by the adrenaline which any man's body would experience when poised to
expose such a salacious story to other men.

Or perhaps his apparent erectile state was fueled by something more
insidious.

Still waiting for Mr. Fries and Mr. Keenan to return, the bar owner said,
"My busboy left the back way. Manuel's a good guy and he doesn't speak
English very well. But I can't take any chances even if he's never heard
chatter about the little kid, you know?"

I acknowledged his wisdom in being as discreet as possible under the
circumstances. I advised him that it was best for all involved that these
matters not be discussed with anyone but those who understand the
suspicious and potentially evil underlying cause of these encounters which
he and others claim to have experienced with the child.

Mr. Mendricks then leaned over the table and as if attempting to whisper
into my ear, he confessed, "Before they come back...I need for you to
know...me and my pals all screwed the kid...that's what plagues me to this
day, padre."

I calmly told him that I understood the nature of what he was so hesitant
to disclose aloud.

He then whispered again, "Such a little kid and we all...we all did
him. But it's like we couldn't help ourselves, you know?"

Again, I told him that such sensitive matters were always difficult to
handle on ones own and that it would benefit him greatly to tell me
everything. "As distasteful as these things are that you and others claim
to have done, you will feel the burden lifted by telling me. And remember,
everything you confide in me is protected under the Seal of Confession."

I further told him that I had come to Port Landings only upon the authority
of the Church - that I was sent only to seek a cause for what was occurring
and, if necessary, to aid all souls involved.

"That's what I'm needing, padre. I figured that you'd understand us guys
who've encountered that slut fuck kid when I overheard the other guys
telling you about him", he replied. "I mean, you seemed to be a pretty cool
guy. So, that's why I jumped into your conversation."

Mr. Mendricks then said something which startled me. For I knew not how to
reply as I could not deny the truth of what he said.

"And then when you said you were a priest...", Mr. Mendricks laughed as we
watched Mr. Fries and Mr. Keenan returning from the restrooms, "Well, with
you being a priest I figured you'd be cool about it - what with all the
nastiness you priests are doing to little guys."

I laughed merely as to not break his building confidence in me as a
Confessor and investigator. Instead, I gently reminded him that not all
priests and clergy were in sinful physical relationships with small
boys. "If one in two are in such a sexual union with young boys, one must
then remember that one in two are not."

The other two men, overhearing my comment, asked what we were talking about
as they slid back into the booth. Before I could say anything,
Mr. Mendricks chuckled as he replied, "I was just telling the padre here
that I was glad to know he was a priest - that priests are never offended
by kiddy fuck'n'suck confessionals."

With that, both Mr. Fries and Mr. Keenan looked at me as if they were
shocked by what the bar owner so boldly joked about.

"Man, that isn't cool to say about Father here", Mr. Fries said. "He's here
to help. To help us and maybe help that slut kid."

"He's investigating for the Pope, forchrissake, Wendt", Mr. Keenan
said. "Yeah, we're glad, too, that he's so easy to talk to. But saying he's
okay with what we've done...come on."

Mr. Mendricks laughed as he apologized saying, "No offense, you guys. Hey,
Padre, I was only funning you. I mean, we all know what some of you priests
do to little ones. It's in the news nearly every day. But I didn't mean to
imply you were into that shit personally. I didn't mean to suggest that you
were sticking your dick into kids or anything like that. It's just that a
lot of priests, it seems, can't keep their dick inside their pants around
little boys. Like we told you, our little parish here had one sucking kid
dick for almost fifty years, after all."

I acknowledged and accepted his rather unnecessary apology - however clumsy
it may have been - by saying, "As we discussed earlier, a large percentile
of men in the Church have indeed the blotch of many pedophilic sins upon
their souls. And in reference to your Father Delany - if indeed he sinned
in the manner you gentlemen have told me - and I have no reason to doubt
any of your stories - he was certainly among a regular tally of men so
prone. It is fortunate for him that he escaped detection for so many
decades before passing. And yet the degree of the sinfulness of his acts,
like those of so many others, ultimately lies only at the feet of our
Lord. I am not here to condemn anyone for we cannot be certain what God
thinks of such matters. Instead, we are left to only subject such men,
while living, to man made laws. And it is solely those stories that one
sees in the Press. For, as one would suspect, there is a far, far greater
number of such cases that are either secretly and internally forgiven or,
more frequently condoned."

"And like you say, Father, what we see on the news can't even possibly be
all of them", Mr. Keenan said, in agreement. "I mean, five priests sued
here and three sued there sure don't add up to every priest with his pants
down in front of a little kid."

"Hell, just to account for the number of altar boys claiming to have been
abused, you need thousands of priests doing it with them", Mr. Fries stated

"Or just one priest on Viagra fucking every little kid coast-to-coast",
Mr. Mendricks jested.

"Which is highly improbable", I laughed. I then continued by refocusing our
goal owhich was to delve into events involving the child on Wharfside
Parkway. I said, assuring their assertions with a smile, "Gentlemen, we
could discuss thousands of occasions of pedophilic molestation involving my
fellow priests - as well as numerous other men - including biological
relatives of such boys. But for now, and with only the highest level of
discretion, I am here only to shine the light of the Church's attention
upon events surrounding the boy in question. Therefore, we must confine our
worries and energies only on his soul...and yours, as well, as they have
been affected by contact with whatever may be going on in this particular
situation."

"The kid's possessed then", Mr. Fries stated. "If you want me to cut to the
chase, that's what I know is going on. Nothing else could get me unzipping
my pants for a kiddy blowjob. I think I can speak for Frank, too."

Upon hearing the man's clearly stated admission, my arousal ached as it
strained within my trousers. I asked, "So you did have the boy commit a
sexual act upon you then?"

"I can't even put it that way, Father", Mr. Fries replied. "It's more like
he committed a sexual act upon us."

"Or like he made us commit a sex act on him", Mr. Keenan quickly added as
he agreed with his friend's perspective. "Its like he made us, you know,
molest him."

"Or something in him got us doing it", Mr. Fries said. "This is all so hard
to talk about, Father. You got to understand that."

I told them that I did. But I also told them that if we were to help the
child or anyone who may have been in sexual contact with him, including the
boy's own father - their friend - I needed their assistance in
understanding the truth and the scope of the matter-at-hand.

"Yeah, we did him then", Mr. Fries said as his eyes looked like that of a
frightened child. "We both did him that first night we peeked through his
window."

"But he made us", Mr. Keenan said. "That baby - what was he? Like a year
and a half old? He made us and you gotta believe us. That's the whole
reason we wrote to the Pope."

"You got to know it wasn't us doing it", Mr. Fries said. "If you don't
believe that much, there's nothing to discuss here. You don't think we'd
tell anybody, even the Vatican, if we were all doing the boy just for fun,
do you?"

I agreed that such a publicly avowed action would be very out of the norm
for men prone to pedophilic or other questionable behaviors. I assured them
that I would take them at their word and could only proceed from there.

"The child was eighteen-months of age", I confirmed. "I met with the boy
and the father yesterday upon my arrival."

"So you know then", Mr. Fries said. "The kid come on to you?"

"He musta. He comes on to every man with a load of nutjuice to feed him",
Mr. Mendricks stated. Even priests got nutjuice."

Contrary to their assertions, I told them the truth of my initial encounter
with the widower and his young son. I told them that other than their
friend, Tom, seeming to be somewhat uptight, I found nothing out of the
ordinary when I visited the two at 666 Wharfside Parkway.

"The kid didn't beg for you to bust a nut down his throat?!", Mr. Mendricks
asked in such an incredulous tone as to almost suggest that I may have been
lying.

I shook my head but also acknowledged to them that I visited with the
father and son for only twenty-minutes - as it was all the time the father
would grant me.

"We told him we'd written the Vatican, Father", Mr. Fries said. "So maybe
Tom was being real cautious. He's scared, too, you know. Somewhere inside
him, he knows he's cum in his kid every night since Beth died."

"Or perhaps the Devil is being cautious", I reminded them. "Without saying
it is he who is incarnate in the child, we must not underestimate Satan's
guile. For if indeed he is the pilot of the ship which is that small boy's
body - only second to God, does he know our every move."

"You saying that the devil was making it look like nothing was going on
when you visited there yesterday?", Mr. Keenan asked.

"I did not say it was in fact Satan at work", I explained. "What I am
saying though is that if indeed it is the work of the Dark Angel, we must
tread carefully and take nothing at its face value. Perhaps it is that the
boy's father is merely encouraging his son to promiscuous whoredom. Or it
could be possible that, indeed, the child's actions are under the control
of something far, far worse."

"His dad wasn't making the kid pace and growl and squeeze his dick,
Father", Mr. Keenan said. "Me and Ben saw that kid go at his dad's crotch
like a ravenous slut all on his own."

"And before you ask us", Mr. Fries interrupted, "What healthy man wouldn't
have gotten a rod seeing such a thing? You can't blame Frank and me for
getting a rod as we peeked through that goddamn window. I dare any guy to
say he wouldn't have gotten an erection seeing such a thing - however
freaky sick it mighta been."

I assured them that I was not there to sit in judgment of their action or
the story they were telling me. I also assured them that, as a psychiatrist
and medical doctor, I fully understood the natural reactive arousal most
any man might have to any variety of sexual sights, no matter how depraved.

"So you understand then, Father", Mr. Keenan said. "You're a man, after
all. And until you experience what we're talking about, you can't even
imagine the erection that baby whore causes a guy. It's an erection that's
out of this world."

"Same thing happened here. All I know is that I had the most fucking
intense erection of my life when we first heard that demon voice talking to
us - it's a rod like you're fourteen again", his friend, Mr. Fries agreed.

Mr. Mendricks, grinning as he seemed happy to hear other men confess to
having the same reaction, jumped in, adding, as he clutched his crotch
beneath the table, "I'm with you guys. As fucking evil as it may be, I
never before had such a boner in all my life. Truth be told - not that I'm
always looking or anything since I ain't no queer - but I can tell you that
I saw my buddies had sprung themselves the same condition, if you know what
I mean. Like Frank said, the hardon is unreal. You feel like your cock's
going to rip right through your fly or something. That's why there was no
missing the rods my pals were packing either. And I don't even know why
that was since we were creeped-out as we headed toward that hellhouse. We
didn't even know what we'd find once we got there. But I know for one that
we all had a full-blast hardon the whole way."

As I jotted notes, I asked the men, "What you are all saying then is that
the moment the child spoke...or these words you heard...from whoever or
whatever was invoking them...caused each of you to become so aroused that
you could not help but become erect?",.

"That's what I'm saying, at least", Mr. Mendricks replied. "Even now I get
that same hardon just thinking about it. And its not a regular hardon
either, padre. It's the fucking hardest boner I've ever had in my
life. Harder than when I was teenager jerking to my pop's Playboys. And
even a priest like you got to know that kind of boner, padre. Hell, I know
its sick, but even to this day, I have that same response every time I
recall...I mean, I still see...what that three year old kid got us to do to
him - seeing five adult cocks poking into his holes is like burned into my
mind. I ain't proud of the fact but, if we're confessing the truth here, I
still beat off to what me and my buddies did with that little slut two
years ago."

I turned my attentions back to Mr. Fries and Mr. Keenan to ask them
directly what happened when they peered into that nursery window and heard
the toddler's unearthly utterances. I prompted them to continue their
testimonial as I said, "You were at the window and saw the toddler
performing oral sex upon his father..."

"No SHIT!", Mr. Mendricks, interrupting, exclaimed. "You saw the kid
sucking his dad? Man, you know that kid got to be possessed if you saw
that, too."

"And not just sucking on Tom's dick", Mr. Keenan said to the bar's
owner. "His kid was deep throating it unlike anything you've ever seen."

"Even in the most hardcore porn flick, Wendt", Mr. Fries added. "It was
fucking all the way down in the kid's throat. He was swallowing this huge
dick of our buddy like it was nothing."

"You don't have to explain", Mr. Mendricks said. "I saw him in action
myself. But he was sucking 'em down like that even when he was just
eighteen months old? Awwww, fuuuuuck!"

Mr. Keenan looked at me and said, "Like Ben said, we were at the window and
get this cold chill running through our blood as we see the kid's burning
eyes looking at us. As he's blowing his dad, he's talking about us - me and
Ben - and telling us to unzip our pants."

"He wants us to be next it seemed", Mr. Fries stated. "I mean, the kid is
saying it but at the same time, something in that weird voice is telling us
- commanding us - to open our pants for him."

"You could not have walked away then?", I asked. "You're saying that
neither of you had any ability to resist or turn away?"

"None", Mr. Keenan said. "I ain't never experienced anything like it. And I
know Ben here ain't either. I never felt so compelled to unzip in front of
a little kid before."

Your Eminence, as no one but the four of us were in the bar, I asked the
men directly, "Prior to encountering this child. And please forgive me but
I must ask the question in order to be thorough in my investigation into
these purportedly supernatural forces. But had any of you had
feelings...desires...sexual desires...for a child...or any actual sexual
experiences with a child prior to these encounters?"

"NO!", Mr. Fries stated firmly. "I have children and, no! I never had such
thoughts before that night."

"Me either", Mr. Keenan said. "Other than some jerking off to the garbage
any man can see on the Internet, no. I can't be faulted for some jerking
off, can I? This was something else all together, Father."

"You asking if any of us had screwed a little kid before this possessed
little slut?", Mr. Mendricks asked. "I mean, sure, like Frank said, we all
seen and probably have busted a nut to the sick shit every guy sees on the
'net. And I seen stuff back in 'Nam. Hell, I know of buddies who did some
twistedly nasty shit with real little ones during the war there. But, shit,
no. Even when they'd go off as a crew to screw some little kid, I never
went with them even then."

"Therefore none of you, prior to what you're telling me with this child,
ever had any contact - physical...sexual contact with a minor. Is that
correct?", I asked plainly.

"I can swear on the bible the Pope himself reads at night!", Mr. Fries
averred.

"Never actually done any actual touching. I have kids...sons...I dunno. I
mean, like all dads and sons...you know...but nothing...no touching or
anything like that", Mr. Keenan said. His answer was incomplete and quite
suspect to me. But I chose not pursue the issue with him for fear it might
cause an end to his trust in me.

"Well, fuck. I can say like any proud American father who raised a slew of
kids", Mr. Mendricks stated. "That I never shot my load in a minor before
doing that weird assed kid with my pals that night."

"The boy told us to unzip our pants, Father", Mr. Fries said. "Or this
voice coming from him was telling us. And until you hear the voice, you
can't know the power of its command."

"And the crib was right under the window", Mr. Keenan said. "Even now, the
kid's bed is still in the same spot - directly underneath that window. So
it was easy."

I asked him what it was that was easy.

"You know...to follow his command", Mr. Keenan replied.

"While we looked in, the window suddenly rose", Mr. Fries continued. "It
just opened."

"All on its own", Mr. Keenan said in support of that testimony. "It had
been closed but then all of a sudden opened about two feet while we looked
in."

"The window opened itself?", I asked. "No one was touching it?"

"Nobody we could see, at least", Mr. Fries said. "It lifted up. In fact,
the cold temperature of that sickly colored room flooded out when the
window opened.

"It was a warm night", Mr. Keenan said. "But when the window opened, like I
said, opening about two feet, we got this blast of cold air - from inside -
on us."

"And few houses in Port Landings have air conditioning", Mr. Mendricks
offered. "And on top of that, I know for fact - because my wife's on the
historical committee - that none of the buildings in the old section here
of town have air conditioning. Hell, there's no need for it so close to the
ocean anyway."

"Tom's house hasn't got air conditioning", Mr. Fries said. "We know that
cuz we've been buds with him since we were all little kids. That cold was
scary cold. It was like an evil cold."

I asked them to describe exactly what took place that evening over three
years ago.

"Like we said, the window suddenly rises", Mr. Fries said. "And this voice
belching out of Tom's half-naked kid is ordering me and Frank here to open
our pants."

Citing the fact that the child's room is located at the rear of the single
story house, Mr. Keenan described the event which followed. And as he did,
I saw the man fidget and grow ashen. "The bottom of the window hits an
average-sized guy at about mid-thigh, Father. So you can figure out what
the kid was up to."

"He stops sucking on Tom's - his dad's - dick...", Mr. Fries began to say.

But before he could continue, I interjected with the question, "And he,
your friend, is still not aware or acting as if he is not aware of your
presence? Correct?"

"He's just standing at the side of his kid's crib, that huge schlong of his
still hard and all wet and sticking out of his pants", Mr. Keenan
answered. "But he's not even looking at the window."

"Instead, the kid comes pacing over to us at the open window...like he's a
panther", Mr. Fries went on to say. "He's breathing heavy and grunting and
smiling this freaking evil smile at us. I never saw anything like it in my
life."

"And you were afraid?", I asked.

"Fucking terrified", Mr. Keenan said. "But we couldn't budge at the same
time. It's like we wanted to move but couldn't. But more than even that, it
was like we didn't want to move. And that's what made it so horrible."

"It was like on the one hand, we wanted to flee", Mr. Fries said. "But, at
the same time, like Frank said, something within us - or in that room -
wanted us to stay."

"And pop open your pants. Right?", Mr. Mendricks added. "Same with me and
my buddies. It was just like you're telling the padre here. You want to run
but you want to pop open your pants for the kid at the same time."

"And that's what happened, Father", Mr. Fries said as breathed
deeply. "Neither me or Frank could...or much wanted to run. That's how I
know it was something outside of any of us to control."

I asked them to be careful as they took their time to recall exactly what
happened next. Your Eminence, I needed to know who acted first, for,
despite the bold manipulations of some of our pedophile fellow priests,
there have been, as we both know, more than a handful of cases where the
child involved was unquestionably the sexual aggressor. I remind you of the
seven-year-old boy in Wellingford who accused the local pastor there of
molestation only later to then be proven a liar - after the man's
suicide. If you recall in that case, the child's father for years had the
boy working the public toilets of the Wellingford Train Station in exchange
for money.

For that reason I wanted to know exactly who - the toddler or these men -
had made the initial inappropriate contact. Such a detail could prove vital
to aiding in the further investigation of the case.

"What can I say, Father?", Mr. Fries said. "Me and Frank were just standing
there. Sure, we had hardons. But even so, we were just standing there."

"At the open window", I stated.

"Yeah, at the open window", Mr. Fries confessed. "But we couldn't
move. Like our buddy, Tom, something had us in their grasp. We couldn't
move away."

"And right through the open window, the kid starts groping both of us - me
and Ben together - at the same time", Mr. Keenan went on to say. "And he
had a grip on our crotches that was unreal. I coach football at the
community college and let me tell you, even our varsity quarterback doesn't
have such a strong grip."

Mr. Fries testified, "This little baby has our rods in his hands and he
ain't letting go. Yet it didn't hurt either. It was freaking incredible."

"And it felt incredible, too", Mr. Keenan blurted out. "I gotta confess to
Father here, Ben. It felt fucking great. We were scared shitless but the
kid was massaging our bulges unlike anything you've ever fucking felt."

"He's like a sex demon. I mean, isn't it apparent?", Mr. Mendricks
interjected. "The kid handled me and all my buddies like a one-kid brothel
when he was just three. Like you said, I never in all my life ever seen or
felt anything like it before. And all the while, you're shitting in your
pants because you know something's wrong with the kid."



MORE TO COME...

"The Sexorcist", COPYRIGHTED 2005 to the Pen Name, "Mr. GloryholeJUNKIE"

This story is not to be use in any capacity or forum without the author's
prior, written permission. Any similarity of situations and/or names of
persons and/or places used in this story and those in "real life" would be
completely coincidental.

Gh_professional@yahoo.com

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