There are only 10 songs on that list, on the gospel playlist in your laptop. You decide to listen to them in the middle of the entirely annoying day you are having. Then you hear it. The third track on the playlist.

? Jesus at the centre of it all! ?

Seated in your office, you smile at yourself as you allow the strains of what is your favourite gospel song take you back… All the way back to when you were nineteen and a different person from the man you are today.


You’d mentally prepared yourself for another night. You knew what you were going for, what you wanted to get out of that experience. When his call came in, you’d hurriedly dropped everything you’d been doing and went outside so your nosy roommates wouldn’t overhear your conversation with him.

He was just about ten minutes away from your hostel, he said. Were you ready? he asked.

Were you ever not ready!

When he got to the hostel 12 minutes later, he called you and you gave him your room number, inviting him to come up to your room. You’d taken advantage of the time to surreptitiously put yourself in order, to arrange your stuff and ensure your overnight bag was furnished for your adventure. His knock on the door of your room was quite like him: quiet and unobtrusive – and frankly everything you didn’t like in a man.

But you didn’t care about liking him. All you cared about was getting laid by him that night. It was the only way you felt you could wipe the memories of He-who-must-not-be-named from your mind. Or at least try.

He made lively conversation, Lou did, as you both made your way down the old road to the small village behind school where he stayed. You talked about everything, from church and religion to politics and the happenings in school. Before long, you were at his place. It was a small room in an equally small compound that smelled suspiciously of dung. His room was a statement in organised chaos. Books strewn haphazardly on the study table and the ground, and clothes hanging singly or in clusters on his clothes hanger. There was just enough evidence that he was your regular disorganised male. And you didn’t care. Your home-making instincts made you want to pick up the clothes, make the bed, arrange the room and present the best of the little available space he had there. Instead, you tamped down firmly on that feeling, choosing to move some of his clothes aside so you could sit on the bed.

You both carried on your conversation as he tidied up the room. The rain that had been threatening to fall all evening had begun, at first a light drizzle, and then a torrential downpour. It was not until he sat next to you on the bed that you smiled inwardly.

At last, you thought, it was time.

As you chattered on this time about the weather, you felt his hand creep slowly towards yours, a cold finger run over the back of your hand. You turned to face him, in that dim room, illuminated only by the sputtering light of a single candle, and you gave him a small smile. A clear invitation to proceed. And when he leaned toward you and claimed your lips in a kiss, his cool lips and warm tongue ravishing your hot mouth, you gave yourself over completely to longing.

Lips locked, you palmed the bulge between his legs. You couldn’t help the soft gasp that escaped your throat as you felt the thickness of that hard cock beneath the fabric of his trousers. The length wasn’t going to bother you – but that girth…!

His hand caught yours, and he pulled you into an embrace, as his lips feasted on yours and your hands roamed freely over each other’s bodies. One of his hands came to rest just beneath the curve of your buttocks, alternately squeezing and pulling you closer to him – almost like he wanted to merge your body with his. His other hand moved between caressing your nipple through your shirt and running through your thick hair, drawing you closer into his kiss.

You had to feel. You needed to feel. Your hands went to his shirt and slowly but deftly, you unbuttoned it. As soon as your hands touched his skin, he broke the kiss, reached down and tugged your polo upwards. Two seconds later, you both sank back into each other’s lips as your warm bodies touched and you felt, for the first time since the evening began, a semblance of your humanity returning. The humanity He-who-must-not-be-named shattered. You could taste the pepper stew on Lou’s tongue, no doubt the remnant whatever he’d last eaten. When his head went down to your nipple, your moan could wake the dead. He teased and tugged, stretched and sucked, bit and blew air on your sensitive nipples, one after the other, leaving you in agonized pleasure.

Then his hand went to your trousers and he proceeded to strip you of your final items of clothing, leaving you gloriously naked, hard and hungry for more of him. Laying you down on the bed, he looked at you with something you recognised as wonder and an intense incredulity, almost as if he was wondering how he’d managed to get you in his bed.

But he couldn’t be thinking that. You weren’t special, that much you knew.

He took off his trousers and boxers and stretched himself over your prostrate body. And he began to rub himself against you. Your lips locked again and you both rutted against each other, the only sounds in the room coming from your harsh breathing and occasional moans.

When you pushed him off and proceeded to take him in your mouth, his breathing got even jerkier. At first, you wondered how you’d manage to fit that large cock in your mouth, but when you took one taste, his unique flavour overrode your senses and inhibitions, and you began to suck him, taking much more than you’d planned to, taking him deeper and deeper in your throat with each bob of your head. You already knew he didn’t give head or eat ass, just like the tons of other boys in your school. So, when his hand roamed down your body and he began to angle towards your south side, you wondered what he was about.

Then he pulled you up, and you saw that he had his phone in his hand. Almost immediately, a slow, melodious, soul-wrenching song began to play, swelling over the room and filling the small space. Providing the perfect cover for whatever carnal sounds you two would make in the coming minutes.

He whispered, “I want to be inside you when I come.”

You smiled. You reached for your bag and drew out a condom and a tube of lube. You rolled the condom onto his cock and squirted some lube into your hand, lubing his sheathed member. While you stroked him with your lube-filled hand, he turned a bit to the side and amply poured lube down your ass crack. You felt the cold liquid roll down the centre of your derriere and you shivered slightly. Then his finger pressed against your hole. Before you could think, he’d begun kissing you again, all the time gently coaxing you open with his finger. Feeling something sliding in and out of you, you gradually began to buck against the intrusion, opening yourself up more for him.

When he replaced one finger with two, you couldn’t help the cry that escaped your lips. Bucking faster against his fingers, you let him instinctively know that you were ready. Ready for him to plough you with that irregular monster cock of his. He took his place on top of you, raising your legs to his shoulders and slowly, he pushed in. You felt his fat cockhead at the entrance to your glory hole, straining to gain access. So, you took a deep breath and pushed out. Almost immediately, it breached the ring of muscles and popped into you.


Hot, searing pain!

That was what you felt. Thankfully, he’d stopped moving once he’d gained access into your channel. And that was when you first heard it – felt it rather. Something off in the entire tense sexual atmosphere.

? Jesus at the centre of it all… From beginning to the end… It has always been… ?

The worship song was pouring in a melodious cascade from his phone. You found yourself relaxing without being fully aware of it. He must have felt it because, in that moment, he surged into you. And almost like magic, there was no resistance. He slid in like he was meant to be inside you, like that was the purpose of his creation.

Your mind snapped back to him and what was happening on that bed. You gazed at him in wonderment as he filled you up and held his position, his face a contortion of pleasure – a look that was, doubtless, mirrored on yours. When he slowly slid out, you moaned, in rhythm with the music that was playing from his phone. Again, he surged into you and slid out. And thus, the dance of the night began.

Movement! Pleasure! Undiluted ecstasy! You could literally feel him hitting your heart, taking your breath away with his every stroke, with his every movement. You were putty in his hands. He was in charge, your master, your god in that moment. And you heard the lyrics from the song that was on repeat.

? From my heart to the heavens…

Jesus be the centre…

It’s all about You…

Yes, it’s all about You… ?

What you heard, what words were coming back to you in those fevered moments of passion were: It’s all about Lou.

And truly, it was. It was a religion, a worship form deeply neglected. It was not just sex. In that moment, you could see god; you could feel the energy of the universe flowing through your every vein, your every pore, filling you up so quickly, so powerfully that you felt like you were going to explode or erupt.

And erupt, you did! The contrast between the cold and heat in the room, the surge of his cock inside you, your connection to god and all the energy of the universe slammed through you. You felt it running in swift waves of heat from the top of your spine all the way down to your toes, toes that curled in response to such mind-numbing energy and pleasure, and back up from your toes to your hard cock. The waves left you convulsing as the intense pleasure erupted in great gobs of milky semen from your cock. And as you writhed in pleasure, you felt more than heard him groan harshly as he too began to explode.

He slumped on you, both your breaths coming in great gasps. As you lay there in the quiet, you couldn’t help but smile. If ever you were going to return to being Christian, this experience had completely ruined the chances of that happening. Because you knew – Jesus truly had been the centre of what happened. All that pleasure, all that connection, all that energy could only mean you’d touched something. Something real. Right here at the altar of Lou’s bed. And that was all that mattered to you.

Written by Mitch

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  1. Realme
    December 09, 06:39 Reply

    This is so beautiful…
    For sec, I felt like I was having sex with Jesus
    And yes Jesus is indeed at the center of it all…this is real..
    *The excitement
    *The emotion
    *The sex.
    It all felt like heaven

  2. Dickson Clement
    December 09, 08:57 Reply

    How dare you write such profanity? This is Christmas and Sunday for that matter!

    No more explicit content till yelutide ends- and Mitch come to my room for a proper punishment, you have been a bad child!

  3. Malik
    December 09, 14:13 Reply

    Worship songs could be really orgasmic at times. I think there are more parallels between spiritual music and sex than our apostles will let us admit.

  4. Eddie
    December 10, 00:08 Reply

    If I were to write a book and I needed a steamy sex scene,I’ll be sure to contact you,Mitch… You gave it depth with your word play

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