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.