He faced his
congregation and took out his wiener. It was a massive wiener. It was the most
massive wiener the world had ever seen.
Each man
from the congregation walked up to their minister and fucked his gaping pee
hole. No one lasted very long. Merely the idea of fucking a massive cock was so
arousing they came as soon as they put it in his slimy hole.
Once the
massive wiener was filled with his congregations semen, the reverend walked to
the alter and lied down. The congregation sat around him and sang old campfire
songs and watches as the reverend masturbated.
“Row, row,
row your boat, gently down the stream…”
They prayed
for their mighty leader to reach orgasm. They had done this every Sunday for
two years. The reverend had never been able to reach orgasm. It was as if his
dick was constipated.
“Merrily, merrily,
merrily, merrily, life is but a dream…”
This day
was different.
“What’s
that noise?” one of the men asked.
The
reverend's penis made a strange rumbling. It sounded as if a train was charging
forward, carrying cargo from the deepest part of his soul.
Could the
prophecies be true? They wondered.
“This
is going to be gross,” another man said.
“Should
we tell him to stop?”
For years
they had prayed for this day to come, but now that the promised day was upon them
they were filled with terror. They enjoyed their little routine. They enjoyed
fucking the reverend's mighty cock hole. They enjoyed singing and watching him
masturbate endlessly.
“Don’t do
it!” one man yelled to the reverend.
“I’m
sorry!” the reverend responded.
They
watched as a mushroom cloud of jizz erupted from his cock. It had been a sunny
day, but now the sky grew thick with jizz clouds.
They stared
up at the gooey clouds in awe.
The
rumbling sound no longer came from the reverend's cock. It came from above them.
“Dear lord
have mercy!” a man yelled.
The jizz poured
from the sky.
“ICKY!” one
man yelled. “It’s so icky!”
It didn’t soak into the ground like normal
rain. Soon it was up to their knees.
“To the
boat!” another member the congregation yelled.
They ran
through the sticky jizz toward the boat they had been living in for years. It
was intended to be an arc. It was supposed to save them when the prophecies
came true and the jizz tsunami covered the Earth. For the past ten years they had
been treating it like it was nothing more than an apartment building and they were
not sure if it could actually function as a boat, the way they had initially
intended it to.
By the time
they got there, the jizz was up to their chests.
“It’s
locked,” one man said as he tugged on the door knob.
They looked
up and saw their wives standing at the windows. One of the women opened her
window. It was the lead wifey.
“You are no
longer needed,” she called out to them. “Go be with your savior.”
The men begged
her to have mercy. The lead wife shook her head and walked away from their
windows.
Jizz
gathered. Soon they were floating in stormy sea of their own man juice.
The boat was
also floating in the jizz. Its motor
started. The massive arc sped away.
“Come
back!” they begged.
They tried
to swim after it. But it moved too quickly. They were soon engulfed in the milky
white waves.
_______________________________________________________________________
Justin Grimbol is author of THE CRUD MASTERS and the editor of BUTT SHARK UNIVERSITY. He currently lives in Portland Maine.
