Warnings: Sexual things.
Disclaimer: Dan Brown is a strapping young lad.
Summary: Aringarosa and Silas share some special moments... I'm not very good at summaries lol.
The crimson tears of pain showered down his back.
Each blow of the whip ripped apart his tender albino flesh. It felt so glorious. God would surely love him now. He was a truly joyful fellow that fought in the name of the Lord. If it wasn’t for his beloved minstrel by the name of Aringarosa, he would be trapped in a land of sadness and despair.
At that moment, he heard a faint knock on his cold, pale, stone door. Could it be his beloved father-figure-of-a-dingy-Spanish- arroz con pollo-priest? The damned monk’s crystal-blue eyes lit up in hopes of a new beginning.
Oh dear. Nay! He mustn’t be nekkid in the presence of his holy lover. At least… not yet. As pulled up his garbs, flashes of secret seduction traveled through the young albino’s mind….
~~~The two of them… making love under the moonlit skies of the Vatican. The halls were dimly lit by candlelight alone. However, they weren’t in the halls…~~~
A chortle filled the blood-stricken air.
~~~SQUEAKY SQUEAKY SQUEAKY.
“SAAAAAY IIIIT,” roared Aringarosa, the Orc ruler of Opus Dei, as he mercilessly thrust into the youngin’ of a monk. Oh yes, this fellow was ripe for the pickin’ indeed.
“BYKINGDOMCUMMMMMMMM,” he drawled out in a groan.
“NOT YETTTT,” hollered the fat elderly man of the cloth. Arigiansdgahigh grabbed Silas by the ass cheek, yanking him into a one of the men’s bathroom stalls. There was a lone stone pillar with a hole in it. Hark! A STONE AGE PORTA POTTY!
“But father,” the prag pleaded, “It’s about to overflow!”
That it was. Members of the Vatican rarely use the bathroom. This is a known fact. Hundreds of year’s worth of fecal matter had piled up to the brim of the tiny contraption.
“That’s the point,” snorted the coffee-and-donut hoarding man. He snatched the mutant-child by the hair, stuffing his face into the soupy shit.
Silas didn’t even have time to take a breath. Immediately, his mouth was crammed with crap. Being dunked under only forced his ass into the air. He could feel the itchy wool gliding up his legs. The skirt of the robe was now pushed up in folds on his back.
SLAP SLAP. His sensitive pastel ass-cheeks were brutalized by a calloused hand.
Aringarosa dipped his fingers in the brown goop, taking a glob of it out. He then spat on it and shoved it into the lil’ shyster’s anus. It was mighty meaty lube!!!!
The aged fecal acids burned into the monk’s anus. He let out a gurgled cry.
Enter the sausage. A giant, 15 inch one at that. It broke his virgin insides. This was his first time (besides the first 5 minutes at the sink). Typically, nobody would want to fuck his portal of love. After all, he was supposed to be a butt-ugly albino. Alas, he was Paul Bettany, one of People Magazine’s favorite cash-packing faggots.
The first thrust was over with. However, it wasn’t soon before hammered into him. And another. And another. And another.
Silas managed to crane his neck up for a gasp of fart infested air. “BEEE GENTTLEEEEE!!!!”
“Shut up prag,” grunted the priest, dunking his angel of music’s head under the Campbell’s Shit once more.
Tom Hanks would not be a proud fellow if he saw the likes of this.
After about 3095720357235 more plunges. The agony was over. Silas had officially become goatse. His anus looked like a Hostess cupcake. THERE was the cream filling!~~~~
Finally, after thinking about this, the al-bee-no opened the door.
“Oh… just you,” he sighed, staring at the bland negro-woman before him.
Rosa Parks clutched her handbag to her perky bosoms before enquiring, “Massuh gots me some cornbread and fried chicken?”