Todos los capítulos de THE PASTOR'S SON'S DIRTY LITTLE SECRECT : Capítulo 141 - Capítulo 150

**Chapter 137**The older man in the crimson mask trembled against the cold tiles, his broad back pressed firmly to the wall as the younger man in the black mask stood behind him. The thick head of the younger man’s cock nudged insistently against his slick, stretched hole, teasing without pushing in. Every shallow rock of those hips sent sparks of desperate need shooting through him.“Please,” he rasped, voice wrecked and hoarse behind the ornate mask. “Stop teasing. I need you inside me. Fill me up like last time.”The black-masked man chuckled darkly, one hand gripping a firm hip while the other reached around to stroke the older man’s leaking cock with slow, torturous pulls. “You sound so fucking desperate already. Respectable man like you, begging to get railed in a dirty bathroom stall.” He pressed forward just enough for the head to breach the rim, then pulled back again, leaving the older man whimpering at the loss.“Fuck—don’t stop,” the crimson-masked man groaned, pushing hi

**Chapter 139**The crimson-masked man turned around on unsteady legs, his body still humming with the intense aftershocks of two powerful orgasms. Thick, warm cum continued to leak slowly from his well-fucked hole, soaking into his underwear and trailing down the inside of his thigh in a filthy reminder of what had just happened. His muscles ached pleasantly, thighs trembling from the effort of staying upright. He pulled his pants back up with shaky hands, the fabric sticking uncomfortably to his slick skin.The younger man in the sleek black mask had already tucked himself away and was casually adjusting his clothes, looking far too composed for someone who had just come twice inside him. Their eyes met through the masks, the air between them still thick with the heavy scent of sex, sweat, and spent lust.The older man swallowed hard, heart pounding for an entirely new reason now. The anonymity that had felt so safe and thrilling suddenly felt too heavy. Too limiting.“We’ve been do

**Chapter 141****Aaron’s POV**I couldn’t stop replaying it in my head as I drove away from Leon’s house that night. The way his father had stared at me on the porch — that long, searching look like he was trying to place my face from somewhere far more intimate than a school event. The tension in the hallway. The careful way Leon had tried to smooth everything over. But mostly, I kept thinking about the man in the crimson mask. The one I’d been fucking for weeks in that warehouse.The birthmark.It was small, just a faint, irregularly shaped mark right on the left side of his chin, partially hidden by the edge of the mask during our encounters. I’d noticed it the second time we met — when he’d been on his knees, mask slightly askew from how eagerly he’d taken me down his throat. I’d gripped his jaw to guide him deeper and my thumb had brushed right over it. At the time, I’d filed it away as just another detail. But tonight, when Leon’s father had stood under the porch light arguing

**Chapter 143**Leon woke up to the pale gray light of Sunday morning filtering through the small attic window, and his stomach immediately twisted with dread. He hated Sundays. Hated them with a quiet, bone-deep resentment that he could never voice out loud. The day always felt like a performance — a long, exhausting ritual where he had to play the perfect pastor’s son in front of the entire congregation. Smile at the right moments. Nod during the sermons. Pretend that the weight of expectations didn’t crush him every single week.He lay in bed for a few extra minutes, staring at the familiar cracks in the ceiling, his body still sore from the ice bath the night before and the endless chores from the previous evening. The cold had seeped into his bones and refused to leave. His knees ached. His mind felt foggy. And somewhere beneath all of it lingered the memory of Aaron’s intense eyes in the chem lab, the kiss that still burned on his lips, and the confusing text conversation with D

**Chapter 145**His father’s voice filled the sanctuary with its familiar commanding resonance as he began the main sermon. The topic was salvation — one of his favorites, a message he delivered with passionate conviction every few months. “Salvation is not a one-time event,” his father preached from the pulpit, hands gripping the edges firmly, eyes sweeping across the congregation. “It is a daily choice. A daily rejection of temptation. A daily surrender to the path of righteousness. The world will offer you distractions, pleasures of the flesh, false idols that promise freedom but deliver only chains. But true salvation comes through discipline, through purity, through unwavering commitment to God’s word.”Leon sat rigidly in the front pew beside his mother, hands clasped tightly in his lap. The words washed over him like cold water, each sentence feeling personally aimed at the secrets he carried. Salvation. Purity. Rejection of temptation. Every phrase landed like a judgment. He k