The Bible Boys

The Bible Boys

Dan Skinner

The Bible Boys is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2014 by Dan Skinner

Cover Art by Dan Skinner

Edited by Tina Adamski

Formatted by Laura Harner

All rights reserved.

Smashwords edition published in the United States by Dan Skinner.

ISBN: 978-1-937252-86-1

Warning: All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner without written permission, except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

Acknowledgements

My special thanks to Laura Harner and Tina Marie Adamski, without whom this book would not be.

Thank you to my betas, Christy and Lara.

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following trademarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Aquaman: DC Comics

Boy Scouts: Boy Scouts of America

Coke: THE COCA-COLA COMPANY

Coleman: THE COLEMAN COMPANY, INC.

Comet: Prestige Brands, Inc.

Disneyland: Disney

Dracula: Universal Pictures

Etch-A-Sketch: Ohio Art

Foghorn Leghorn: Warner Bros.

Gunsmoke: Columbia Broadcasting System (CBS)

James Bond: Danjaq, LLC

John Deere: Deere & Company

Let’s Make a Deal: American Broadcasting Company (ABC), National Broadcasting Company (NBC), Worldvision Enterprises

Lifesavers: WM. WRIGLEY JR. Company

Lost in Space: 20th Century Fox Television

Lucky Strikes: Reynolds American Inc.

Mack: MACK TRUCKS

Mustang: Ford Motor Company

Norman Rockwell: The Norman Rockwell Estate Licensing Company

Purex: The Dial Corporation, a Henkel Company

Quaker State: SOPUS PRODUCTS

Roadrunner: American Broadcasting Company, Columbia Broadcasting System, Warner Bros. Television

Schlitz: Jos. Schlitz Brewing Company

Shane: Paramount Pictures

Sherlock Holmes: Guild Films

The Day the Earth Stood Still: Twentieth Century

War of the Worlds: Paramount Pictures

Wonder Bread: Flowers Foods

Zane Grey: Zane Grey, Inc.

Contents

Acknowledgements

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

About the Author

Also Available

Chapter One

Birth had made a victim of Matthew Moore. Not in the ways one might think. He was born a perfectly healthy boy in Saint Louis on November seventh in the year Nineteen-Hundred-and-Fifty-Four during a blinding snowstorm. Eight pounds, nine ounces. Very healthy. His wail could be heard outside the delivery room at both ends of the corridor.

As he grew, it became evident he was a pretty boy. Not a handsome boy. There’s a difference between handsome and someone whose features are those normally considered elegant. Though very fair skinned and blond, his lashes and brows were coal black, appearing as if someone had taken makeup to them. It offset eyes the color of aquamarines. His cheeks were high; full and proportionate, the planes of his face sleek, almost feline. His lips were voluptuous, the top as broad as the bottom and symmetrical; the color of Cabernet. It would grow to be a face one was drawn to stare at, or look away from. Depending on your gender in those days.

By fifteen, he’d reached what would be his full height; just under six feet in one tremendous spurt of growth that kept his parents struggling to dress him over the span of months during which it took place. Most noticeable about this radical transformation of a young boy into the semblance of a young adult, was the ostensible endowment that came with his height. No matter how tight the underwear he wore, it didn’t disguise that fact that he was, as other men would say: gifted. And like any other teenager going through puberty, he’d soon learn he’d have trouble controlling that gift.

Masturbation was a providential find that year.

No door on his bedroom. It was directly across the hall from his parents’ which also did not have a door.

The summer of Sixty-Nine. The window was open to let in the Saint Louis city night breeze. The light of the moon had moved past his pillow. Crickets chirped, lights in the alley behind their ramshackle, red-shingled garage buzzed. He stared blankly out the window at those yellow globes, awaiting sleep, feeling as he always felt. Down. Low. His living conditions depressed him. And sleep would relieve him of that depression for a while.

He wriggled his toes in the sheets, looking for a cool spot. He unbuttoned the first three buttons of his pajama top. He’d have to refasten those before his parents rose in the morning. He sighed and yawned. Exasperated to still be conscious in his sad world.

Irritably flipping to his side, his dick slid downward with gravity. Odd. It seemed bigger. Thicker. Growing. Carefully, he fingered the front of his cotton Aquaman pajama bottoms. He was right. It was getting stiff, and bigger still. Baffled, he had no clue what was going on. This was foreign to him. He did know one thing. His parents couldn’t know about it. They’d told him many times that part of his body was dirty and a source of sin. He wasn’t even supposed to look at it when he bathed.

It now strained hard against his pajamas. The front unsnapped. That was startling. Grabbing his pillow, he tucked it in between his legs. Its size would remain hidden if his parents walked in to check on him. A flurry of worry lightning struck his thoughts.

He pulled the feather-filled guard tight over the hardening member. His ball-sack yanked up tight. He winced. It actually was painful. The dragging motion against him sparked another feeling new to him. Curious tickling.

Tentative fingers sneaked past the elastic of his underwear. He touched the odd, hard thing, found something sticky leaking there. He stuck a fingertip to it, held it to his nose. Bleachy. Warily, he tasted it. Salty. It puzzled him. It was nothing near the consistency of pee. It had more texture. What was this?

Furtive glance to darkened hallway, where he could see the light still out in his parents’ room. His father snored.

He slid from the sheets, rose from his bed. Curiosity was getting the better of him. He wanted to see what was going on with his body. The only private place in the apartment was the basement. He tiptoed his way toward the door, feeling his way around furniture in the darkness. Kitchen chair, kitchen table. Stove. Refrigerator...basement door.

He peered back, listening to make certain he’d not disturbed his sleeping parents. Slowly, inch by inch, being careful of creaking hinges, he opened the door, and then crept down into the basement shared by two apartments.

He flicked on the light switch at the bottom of the stairs. In the minimal glow he could see that his pajama bottoms were pushed far away from him with the bulge. Peculiar. Very peculiar, he thought.

At the far end of the basement stood two sheds for storage. One for each apartment. Alongside these were the green Maytag washer and dryer. He headed for his parents’ shed.

Once there he paused, listening for sounds above him where his parents slept. No movement.

Again, inch by careful inch, he cracked the door of the shed until it was wide enough to slip inside. He shut the thin, wooden door, pulled the string that turned on the light within. In the brightness, he was startled by his own reflection in an old dresser mirror stored against the wall. He could view the erection through his pajamas. His hand was totally inadequate in its efforts to disguise it.

He felt like he was looking at a foreign object. He grabbed it through the material. It was far greater in length than his hand, and hard in a way he had never seen it.

Unsnapping his pajamas further, he lowered both the pants and his underwear simultaneously. His dick stood in a crescent arc and smacked his stomach upon release. He flinched.

It was massive. It didn’t look like it belonged on him. It took him a few seconds to comprehend its attachment to his body. It stood up tall and thick against his belly, reaching slightly past his navel. Veins stood in relief along its edges. The blood flow in them was pounding, visible through the flesh like a heartbeat. Its head looked like a purple bulb and its slit was oozing the strange-smelling goo. His balls were jumping with a will of their own. It made his stomach queasy.

Cocking his head first to the left and then to the right, he looked at it from every angle. Reaching down, he tried to measure it with his fingers. Upon touching it, he found the slightest sensation almost doubled him over. It bobbed like a marionette, slinging traces of the goo into his blond pubes. He reared back. Baffled. Intrigued. He paused to wonder.

How completely odd it was to be exploring himself like he was an unfamiliar object. In the back of his mind he was sure this was the very thing his mother and father had told him was a sin, was dirty. But it didn’t feel that way to him. It was fascinating. He couldn’t pry his eyes from it or from his reflection in the mirror. And what was that feeling when he touched it?

He slid his hand carefully down his side toward it. It made him shiver. Gooseflesh pebbled over his legs and arms. It was as if ants trekked over his flesh. Gingerly dragging his finger down along the veined shaft in the direction of his balls, his mind snapped with an electric frenzy. His body was going crazy under the careful exploration. Taking his hand away, he stood for a moment staring at his reflection. He didn’t know what to think.

He’d believed that getting hair on his legs and his pubes, and the smattering on his chin were the signs of becoming a man. But this was something so much more. This was like a proclamation of it.

Enthralled and excited, his finger outlined the edge of it again in reverse, going from its base by his sack and up to the lip of the purple bloom at the top.

A cry took flight from his mouth. His whole body doubled with what seemed to be an uncontrollable seizure of pleasure. Legs nearly collapsed beneath him. Lights danced in his eyes like Fourth of July sparklers. Every inch of him, inside and out, seemed to be tingling.

He swiveled to the side, a full profile of himself in the mirror. The thing arched so hard upward he had to strain to try to pull it down. It just wouldn’t obey. The sight of the muscled curve of his naked butt elated him. He had never been thrilled by being naked before. He was breaking so many rules.

Thinking it through, he delicately dipped his fingertip into the oozing slit, gathered up the slick clear liquid and slid it down the shaft. It felt like that was what he was supposed to do. Natural. It was insanely enjoyable. He didn’t know where this path was taking him, but he couldn’t stop the journey.

From this angle he wrapped his hand around it and began a long, slow motion with it moving gently up and down. He trembled top to bottom. His buttocks clenched hard. Breathing normally was not an option while immersed in this act. Breath came in short, rapid bursts. The faster his hand moved on himself, the larger he got. The color of the tube of flesh changed to a vibrant red, the tip a knob of orchid.

Eyes locked onto the mirror, he continued playing with his wonderful new toy. He was, at once, both proud of and fascinated by himself. This part of him possessed something that had diminished his depression and heightened his own self-awareness. And he luxuriated in the new feelings; the longer he did it, the more he felt like something was going to happen. He just didn’t know what.

Then that expectation grabbed him in a