Gym Clothes part 4

By Jeep
published November 30, 2019
Summary

The journey of the cursed clothes continues

I’m setting in my study, meditating on Leviticus, as I plan out my next sermon, when I see the UPS truck pull up outside. I watch as some big, dumb ape grabs a box our of the back. He walks up to the porch with that slow, lazy shuffle those people use, and just chucks the box up the steps onto the porch, and turns and shuffles away, back toward the truck. Now the good Lord called me to be a shepherd to His flock, and that includes the nigras, but good LORD was it hard sometimes, especially when you saw first hand every day how shiftless and lazy they were… but I guess at least most of them was God fearing, not like those baby killers and faggots and defilers out there in the cities. The colored folks really can’t help how they are, can they? But those who defy the Lord with their unnatural and evil thoughts, well their day of reckoning is coming soon…

I hang my head a little in shame and say a prayer for my boy Jacob. Somehow, I’d failed him, let Satan get a hold of him. I remember him coming to me in high school Senior year, telling me he had unnatural feelings, that he didn’t really feel nothing for that God fearing Lori Jenkins he’d been going steady with all through school, that he knew he preferred the company of of men, that he was a homosexual. Now, I’m a loving father, so I gave him a chance to repent his vile ways, offered to send him to a good Christian camp that could help him, but he laughed at me, told me GOD had made him that way. Well, obviously that left me no choice, the Good Book tells us that if our right eye offends us we should pluck it out, that its better to lose and eye and gain salvation… so I had to cut my ties with that boy that very afternoon, sending him out of my house and my life. From what I hear he made his way to the heathen city and is one of the biggest of fornicators their, doing them movies, peddling filth to others.

Thankfully, the Lord let me keep my job when I confessed my failings to the people at Ebenezer Baptist, told them that I’d let Satan take a foothold in the bosom of my own family, promised them that I would do better to guard them and their children, and I have. My little church has gained a national reputation for their zeal against the homosexual agenda, against abortion, against the illegals, against anyone who is not in line with God’s teaching.

I get up from my desk, and walk out to collect the parcel lat was left for me. I’m guessing it’s the Bible tracts I had printed. Our youth group will be going over to the Walmart next Saturday to put the on car windshields, so they arrived none to soon. I open the to inspect them, and my nose picks up a real stink. Good Lord above, these aren’t my tracts, this box is full of somebodies dirty laundry and nasty old shoes. Now occasionally I get some sick things delivered to the church from some faggot group or another, but I’ve never received anything at my house, this is a new low. Somehow these clothes are even still damp to the touch, like someone just took them off after a long, sweaty session in the gym… I should just take them out to the trash, but somehow I just can’t. Instead, I pull them out of that box piece by piece, some old tattered rag of a sweatshirt with the arms and neck cut off, some of them tights like the steroid boys wear, some nasty old socks, a pair of those lifting boots, and worst of all, a rag of a jock strap, filthy with piss and who knows what…

I stretch them out on my desk like I’m trying to put together a man. Lord above, whoever this pervert was, he was a big one. The clothes cover my desk, and the smell, HEAVEN ABOVE, the smell. IT’s heavy, and dank, and dark, it’s like no man scent I’ve ever smelled before. I don’t know why, but my little soldier seems to be coming to attention. It’s been a few years since that happened, and that was okay. Sex is just for procreation, and my Marge was past . child bearing, so it was actually a relief that I wasn’t really plagued by those needs anymore. I wondered if whoever sent it put some drug on them, one of those poppers or something I’d read about… I pulled that nasty old jock to my face and looked it over, couldn’t see anything, couldn’t smell anything but piss, and cum, and man sweat… who whee whoever sent these knew my secret. I brought that jock to my lips and I sucked for dear life… I filled my mouth with the taste of a real man, Lord I wasn’t a faggot, but the taste of manhood as God intended always got me going… I fumbled with my belt, and stepped out of my trousers and underwear, my 3 inch dick harder than it has been in years. I just had to feel what this fabric from a real man felt like. I pulled it up my legs, and caught sight of myself in the mirror over the mantle. Must have gotten a little sun cutting the lawn this morning, my skin was flush and a bit tan… well this old jock of mine was holding up okay, I’ve had it since my stint in the army all those years ago… boy it sure made my 5 inches look longer and thicker than it really was…

Looking at the clothes laid out on the desk, I knew I had to suck the juices out of those socks, taking in every bit of their stank that I could. I pulled them over my feet, and looked back in the mirror, my hand rubbing my solid 8 inches, my cafe au lait skin beginning to glow a bit with sweat. Mama told me when I was going into the Army that if I wanted to I could pass, just barely, if I wanted to, that I might move up the ranks a bit faster… man that was so long ago. I looked silly in this shirt with the pastor collar, and my jock and socks on… I don’t know what got into to me sometimes, trying on other folks clothes, especially when they were way too small for my body.. but then most things are too small when you’re 6’3" and over 300 pounds…as I go to unbutton that pastor shirt, I hear it rip as my bulk is just too much for it. I know I’ll get hell if that pastor comes in, and that makes my 10 inch pole even harder.. well since I ruined it anyway, i flex a few more times, precum dripping into my jock as I think about getting in trouble for ripping up the pastor’s shirt. Finally I pull off the remains of that shirt and look again in the mirror. In the army they called me Sambo, and I guess the name stuck cause I see it tattooed on my chest. Lord above, sometimes I forget how big I’d gotten, my big ole belly, my moobs, shoot I was about 350 pounds of milk chocolate sex… I play with my rod for a couple minutes, thinking of that pastor comin in here and findin me, or that wife of his… boy is that thought hot, bet I could talk either one of em into sucking my swoled up 12 inches… but then I hear the clock strike 4:00. I know I got 3 more lawns to do today, so I can’t keep playing no more, dammit…

I pull up my tights… they ain’t really no protection when I’m cutting grass but some of the white ladies, and i spect some of the gentlemen like watching me wearing them cause my tips is always real good when I do… my ass and cock stretch the tights to almost sheer, their cammo pattern stretching and twisting, man they look hot with my big ole btown belly hangin over the waistband, ha ha, just team big boy representing. I pull on my rag top knowin that it rides up my belly, not giving a fuck… when i was in the army the boys called me Mountain cause I was 6’7" of ebony power. Course, I wasn’t in long before I was caught with one of the white officers. He got transferred cause his papa was some big wig brass, but the black man, fuck the black man, got drummed out on a dishonorable, so I come home, and work for the white folks.. but I also teach them all young and old what a strong, Black man can do with what God above done blessed him with…

I set down on the pastor’s chair to pull on my old grass stained, stinking Otomix. Pastor gave em to me when he kicked that don of his outta the house, said I was the only person he knew with a foot big as his boys… I sit reminiscin for a hot minute, my 420 pounds overflowin the chair makin’ it creak and groan, remembering that sweet white ass and pretty blond hair of that boi…

I hear the bell ring, and the director call for places. This set of a study sure looks real, I strip outta my clothes, snd look at myself in the mirror. FUCK, I’m a beast, my skin glowing with perspiration the color so deep it swallows the light in the room… I fuckin love the way the big silver rings look against my ebony skin highlighting my giant nipples, my legendary 14" fuckstick, and that big ole bull ring hanging from my wide flat nose. I’m a fuckin Nubian prince, a god among men…. ain’t nobody bigger than me in the industry, certainly not the crackers in acting with today, that blond pretty boy with those cut up muscles or the barrel chested midget playing his pastor papa… I position that blond beauty where his hole can take my cock, and let his “pa” get behind me to eat out my ass… I can’t believe that someone pays me to do this shit, but horny white folk will buy anything.

I don’t notice what happens to my clothes once they leave the set, but it don’t matter much, i always change after the white boys shower Mountain anyway…

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