Description: People say not to judge a book by its cover, which for the most part is a rule I try to live by. When it comes to some of the boys that I see coming through St. Peter’s Catholic School for Boys however, it is harder for me not to make some very noticeable observations which lead me to draw my own conclusions. When it came to altar boy Tyga, he was a specific type of student that we saw come through our hallowed halls often enough that I could sort of clock him. A boy who tried to follow the rules. He kept to himself and didn’t draw too much attention, but even doing that was enough to make certain instructors' ears perk up, so to speak. I hate to say it, but I myself am guilty for being drawn towards those types. Maybe it’s because they remind me of myself, trying my best to navigate the temptations of the world as a young adult, not really knowing who or what to fully put my faith in. Choosing the church means he is already on the right path. Upon entering the room and seeing Tyga on his knees, on the prie-dieu that was made available to him, I could tell that I wouldn’t have much of a struggle getting him to open up to me about his temptations. I can recall being in that position myself, and sometimes all a boy like that needs is a firm and guiding hand from someone who understands and comes from a similar background. When he admits to having lustful feelings, it’s as though something takes over in me and I find myself entering that strange headspace where all that consumes my mind is the thought of male bonding. Tyga can tell my demeanor changed as my hands suddenly begin to wander further than just resting on his shoulders, instead my hands start to explore the rest of his body. Things continue to escalate as I pull him closer to my muscular frame and, leaning close, allowing my whispered words to tickle his ear as I spoke. I can hear that my advances are being met with welcome groans of approval, encouraging me to persist, and so I do. I unbutton my shirt and leave it open as my hips instinctively thrust forward towards the moaning boy. Soon, I am behind Tyga, with both of my hands tugging at his tighty whities to pull them down to gain access to his smooth round ass. My hands part his cheeks, as my tongue plunges into his pink opening. Tyga even pulls at the foreskin around his uncut cock to show me how much he is enjoying himself. After drawing my attention to his cock, I am unable to deny myself a taste, so I push away the doubt and fully engage in my desire instead. I’m hoping that my advances will encourage this altar boy to do the same. With Tyga whimpering as I give him oral stimulation, I don’t think it’s going to be much of an issue. I assert myself by pushing him down to his knees, but like most of the boys I have trained, he begins to go through the motions on his own accord, without any effort on my part. I’m surprised when Tyga opens his throat and begins to deepthroat my thick member. He gagged a few times, but I’m aware my cock is thicker than most, and it’s not easy to take. I finally bend the boy over the prayer desk, pulling his red sweater vest up to ensure I can see his hole as I aim my enlarged member at his backdoor. Tyga whimpered again as he adjusted to the size, allowing himself to submit as he relinquished control. To say that the sensation left the boy speechless would be an understatement, but once I got balls deep inside of him, his moans of discomfort turned to groans of pleasure. The boy was left clinging to the payer desk as I fucked him. When his eyes rolled back into his skull I could tell that Tyga was also having a cathartic experience that felt close to religious devotion itself.
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