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Pat Robertson in Love
gargleminky
700slash
gargleminky
I apologize for slacking off. Pat hasn't been really busy lately, and he hasn't been giving me any good ideas. May god have mercy on my soul, and I promise to write something soon.
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lobotronic
700slash
lobotronic
Image hosted by Photobucket.com

Come join bible_rp!

....Because you know you've always wanted to.

Slash friendly <3
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attelage
700slash
attelage
Outstanding Ass-Hat 2205

Click on picture for more...

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gargleminky
700slash
gargleminky
Title: Never A Day
Who: Pat/Jerry
Rating: PG-13
Chapter: 1 of 2

Jerry was unconscious. Pat was scared. Jerry had been going down on Pat, with all the fire and brimstone of the Lord, then he just started wheezing.

"I'm having trouble breathing," whispered Jerry as he fell back from Pat's throbbing erection.

Hyper-alert, Pat pulled his pants and underwear up and fastened them. He helped Jerry into a chair.

"Stay here, I'll call 9-1-1."

Pat dialed the emergency number and told the operator who he was and what the problem seemed to be.

"The ambulance will be there shortly, Mr. Robertson," the opeator calmly reassured him.

As soon as Pat hung up, he knelt next to Jerry's chair and asked him if he was okay. Jerry seemed delirious, and he could only whisper.

"Pat, don't leave me."

"Don't worry, Jerry, I won't," Pat said as he clutched Jerry's hand tightly.

Jerry lost consciousness, and his breathing became more labored. Pat tried to wake Jerry, to no avail.

When the paramedics arrived, Jerry was hustled onto a stretcher and into the ambulance. Pat rode with him to the hospital, his mind racing with worry and terror.

Pat hung back as Jerry was rapidly wheeled through the emergency room doors. Doctors and nurses swarmed Jerry and whisked him down a corridor. Pat wanted to follow Jerry, but a nurse took hold of his arm, guiding Pat to a waiting room.

"Wait here, Mr. Robertson. When we know more, a doctor will be out to brief you."

The nurse left, leaving Pat alone with his fear.

TBC...

Current Mood: artistic artistic
Current Music: Crowded House - Mean To Me

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gargleminky
700slash
gargleminky
Just had to use this picture of Pat for something:



Enjoy!

Current Mood: artistic artistic
Current Music: Monty Python - Live at the Hollywood Bowl

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gargleminky
700slash
gargleminky
Title: Playgiarism
Who: Pat/Mel
Rating: NC-17 (for sexual situations)

"Put it in me," he moaned like the animal he had turned into.

"Put it all the way into me."

When Pat opened his eyes, he and Mel were face to face. He felt Mel easing into his eager ass.

Inch by inch, Mel worked himself inside Pat. It was the first time Pat had a cock inside him. He was glad now that Mel was his first. It felt so good. It made him burn that much more. It made his whole insides melt like soft butter.

"Do it hard," he begged, as Mel started his hip movements.

Pat responded by moving his hips right along with Mel's. They were in perfect rhythm. They moved as if they had been born for it. And they had been. Pat was convinced of it as Mel increased the tempo, pounding his meat into Pat with ever-increasing speed.

The faster Mel went, the wider Pat opened. Throwing his hips as wide apart as he could let Mel get that much more of his cock inside Pat. It was in to the hilt. Pat felt it way up inside him. He thought Mel might split him wide open. It didn't matter though. Anything was worth the feeling Pat was now experiencing.

Pat hoped it would never end. This mad pounding inside him. He could feel the skin on Mel's cock bulging with every stroke. Pat wished he could see inside himself and see as well as feel what Mel was doing. Pat wanted to remember every single thing that was happening to him right now. Remember it for all time.

Pat was getting dizzier and dizzier. Tiny explosions kept going off inside him. Pat's passageway was well lubricated. The pain he thought he would feel when Mel entered him had never happened. It had been pure pleasure right from the start.

And the longer Mel kept it up, the greater Pat's pleasure became. He could tell what Mel was feeling just by the way Mel kept his eyes shut. Pat felt Mel's floodgates spring open as rampaging come streamed into him.

Mel's body jerked every time he emitted a new spurt. He was trembling all over. He seemed on the verge of exploding in half. But when he did, it all went into Pat like a river that was flooding over its banks. And flood over it did. Pat felt Mel's hot cream seeping out and dripping down his leg.

Pat lay beneath Mel completely spent. Pat's whole body still shook, but the shaking was subsiding somewhat from what it had been at its zenith. Mel lay on top of him, quite still. They fell asleep in that position.




Author's note:

The title I gave this scene is due to the fact that, as stated previously, my brain is still not allowing me to write explicit sex scenes for Pat. So I stole about 75% of this from some old, terrible porn novel that I picked up at Goodwill (seriously). It has a copyright date of 1972, so I'm guessing I'm pretty safe from litigation at this point. Plus, someone would have to first recognize, then admit they wrote the book I stole it from and I'm not exactly expecting that to happen anytime soon.

Current Mood: embarrassed embarrassed
Current Music: NPR

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gargleminky
700slash
gargleminky
Title: A Long Day
Who: Pat/Gordon
Where: Inside Pat's secret Love Grotto.
Rating: R (for sexual situations)
Chapter: 3

Last time on "A Long Day, Chapter 2":
Pat closed his drooping eyelids and tilted his head to give Gordon the perfect access to his wizened lips. Gordon put his hands on Pat's shoulders and plunged his tongue into Pat's mummified mouth like a man drowning of thirst who could only be saved by the moisture of spit. Seldom did Gordon remember that Pat's mouth had become mummified in the last several decades and was like a dry desert sand dune. This never stopped Gordon, though, he always soldiered on, reviving Pat's senses with his exploratory tongue.

Pat ran his hands up and down Gordon's ass, trying with his feeble strength to draw Gordon closer to him. Gordon pushed Pat backwards until Pat's legs came into contact with the bed. Gordon pushed Pat down and straddled him. Pat's eyes shone with the lustful beatitude that only Gordon and God could put there.


And now, "A Long Day, Chapter 3":

Gordon leaned down and kissed Pat with all the fervor of a religious zealot during the crusades. He worked Pat's necktie loose, and threw it on the floor behind him. Gordon pushed Pat's expensive jacket down his shoulders, and then, one after the other, pulled the sleeves down and off Pat's arms. He unbuttoned Pat's shirt and removed it as expertly as he had removed Pat's jacket.

Gordon ran his warm, privelege-softened hands over Pat's wrinkled flesh. Pat shivered, his thin skin growing cool without his clothing. Gordon noticed this, and pulled Pat up to the head of the bed and tucked him under the coverlet. Pat sighted, contentedly basking in the glow of Gordon's care.

Gordon quickly shed his own clothes before crawling into bed with Pat. Once settled, he helped Pat out of the rest of his clothes. Gordon knew Pat was far from the prime of life, but it didn't matter to him. Even though middle-aged spread had given way to old-man spread, Gordon saw Pat with eyes of love.

Pat rolled to his side and looked in Gordon's eyes.

"You know what Daddy wants, don't you Gordie?"

"Yes, Daddy, I definitely do."

Gordon licked at Pat's tiny, shrunken, inverted nipples while his hand slid down to Pat's semi-erect manhood. Gordon never cared that Pat wasn't all that well endowed, and it didn't matter so much when Pat preferred receiving far more than giving. And Gordon could give it with the best of them. He could impale Pat over and over with his impressively sized member, and Pat would just cry out for more.

Gordon took Pat firmly in hand, and stroked him until he knew Pat was at the edge of completion. He heard Pat speak to him in a rough voice.

"Gordie, Daddy needs it, he needs it now."

"Turn over Daddy, I'll give you what you want," Gordon growled.

Gordon opened the drawer of the nightstand withdrew a bottle of Astroglide. He coated his length with the lubricant and prepared Pat for his "love invasion". He slipped inside Pat's channel slowly, allowing time for old muscles to expand.

When he heard Pat demand more from him, Gordon, began to move. With even, measured strokes, he took Pat to a place that no on else could.

Pat began to beg for more, hoarsely crying, "Ride me, Gordie, ride Daddy!"

Gordon felt the end approaching and knew that Pat couldn't hold out any longer.

"That's it Daddy, let it go."

Pat was first, then Gordon, as they shook and shivered their way to completion. When it was over, Pat nestled in Gordon's arms, sated and replete. If Pat had to die someday, he knew this was how he would want to go. Here in Gordon's arms.

The End...
Or is it?



Author's Note:

I tried so hard to write this chapter explicitly. I wanted to be able to give it an NC-17 rating. But, alas, my brain rebelled, and refused to let me even imagine Pat Robertson's genitalia in any sort of detail. So, obviously, in no way was my brain going to let write about Pat Robertson's genitalia in any sort of detail. I had to couch everything in romance novel terms in order to maintain my sanity. I promise that someday I will kick my brain's stubborn ass and get it to let me write an NC-17 story. Complete with anatomically correct descriptions and santorum.

I swear.

Current Mood: creative creative
Current Music: Andrea Echeverri - Amortiguador

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gargleminky
700slash
gargleminky
Title: Over and Out
Who: Pat
Where: In the parking lot behind the CBN studio.
Rating: R (for violence and gore)
Warning: Death


Pat had been caught. On live television, no less. And he knew there was only one thing to do about it.

Flashback.

It had been a trying day, a camera went haywire, Terry came down with a serious bout of food poisoning, and to top it all off, Pat tripped over the edge of the set and sprained his ankle. He'd prayed to God to give the strength and patience to withstand any further trials and tribulations that might befall him.

Pat had been down in the dumps, and the only thing that had come remotely close to putting a smile on his face was the visage of Scott Ross on the monitor off to the side of the set.

Pat didn't know when he'd started having these sorts of feelings for Scott. He'd couldn't pinpoint it, exactly, but seeing Scott everyday lifted his spirits and it had just grown from there. When Scott smiled at Pat in person, it nearly took Pat's breath away. His heart swelled with an emotion that Pat just knew God wouldn't approve of, so Pat tamped it down into the black recesses of his cold, dark, shriveled heart.

Until that day, the day that it all came tumbling down, and Pat's world shattered around him.

He'd been chatting with Scott during a segue after Scott's interview with Mel Gibson, and suddenly the words just slipped out. On live television.

"I love you, Scott. You're my only reason for living."

There was a stunned silence across the set. You could hear a clipboard drop, and Pat did. Astonished faces with tiny, rounded, o-shaped mouths all turned in Pat's direction.

He groaned and his eyes closed. Pat couldn't bear the questioning looks that he knew were waiting for him. He couldn't face Scott, who was sitting in the chair opposite Pat looking uncomfortable and nonplussed.

"Pat...I don't know what to say. I care about you, but I could never return your feelings. I'm married, and I love Nedra. Besides, I don't...swing that way."

Pat could finally find the courage to move. He got up, walked as fast as he could away from the set and hid in his office. He locked the doors and refused to come out for the rest of the day. He could hear people walking by the entrance to the office, but he didn't notice them as he sat in an immobile trance. When he finally heard the last cars leaving for the night, he returned to a state of semi-consciousness.

He knew what he had to do, and he had the means to accomplish it. Those left-wing liberal nuts had never made a dent in his belief in the right to bear arms, and Pat kept a pistol in his desk both at home and at work. He didn't need anything fancy, and with his advancing years it wouldn't have mattered much anyway. All he needed was something powerful enough to do the job, a weapon that didn't require a lot of skill. He kept a Saturday Night Special in both of his locked desk drawers, and he took out the one in his work desk now.

Pat loaded it, spun the barrel and walked out into the hallway after checking to make sure it was deserted.

Pat walked out of the building through a back entrance, and continued walking until he reached the middle of the back parking lot.

There he pressed the muzzle of his gun to his head and prayed to God for forgiveness. He knew that suicide was a sin, but he had already sinned, hadn't he? He had fallen in love with another man and had been too weak to deny those feelings. So weak, in fact, that he had admitted to his feelings in front of millions of viewers. He couldn't face the fact that he had said those words, that millions of people had heard him and he could never deny it.

Pat held the gun steady, and pulled the trigger. His brains erupted from the side of his head, spewing forth in a cone of blood and flesh. Pat's body stood upright for a few seconds, and then slumped and fell to the ground. As he sprawled on the ground, death overtook him.

He never considered that he had defrauded innocents, spread intolerance and hatred of all kinds across the world, that he hurt many people in his quest for riches and power. He never once thought about how he had actively worked to deny the civil rights of people who had never wished him any harm. Never once tried to sympathize or empathize with those he hurt, those he denied rights to.

No, Pat killed himself for loving the wrong person. He killed himself for love.

Current Mood: cheerful cheerful
Current Music: Crowded House - Black and White Boy

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gargleminky
700slash
gargleminky
Title: A Long Day
Who: Pat/Gordon
Where: On the way to Pat's secret Love Grotto.
Rating: PG-13
Chapter: 2

Pat allowed Gordon to lead him off the set and down the hallway, his withered hand held tightly, reverently in Gordon's sure grip.

I know quite a lot about Gordon's grip, Pat thought to himself.

As they tumbled through the door of Pat's office, Gordon let go of Pat's hand. This was so that Pat could operate the remote control device in his pocket that opened the door to Pat's secret Love Grotto. The Grotto was lavishly appointed, rich satin covering the walls in hues of indigo and magenta, plush violet carpeting stretched across the floor from wall to wall. In the middle of the room was a large, king sized canopy bed, specially ordered and built for Pat by a handful of carefully picked artisans. On each poster, carved nude figures writhed in sensual delight or sensual agony.

The soft cotton bed covers had been dyed the color of the sky after a rainfall, light and dark grey chevron patterns woven into the weft of the fabric with care and attention to detail.

Gordon tugged on Pat's jacket sleeve, drawing Pat further into the secret paradise of unruly color and rich comfort. Pat pushed a button on his hidden remote and the door swung gently closed, a quiet swish the only audible indication that it had closed.

Pat stared into Gordon's eyes. They were so like his own, and this appealed to Pat in a way that he almost never stopped to consider. The few times he did, he wasn't sure if the memory accompanying his consideration was real or a much longed for fantasy fabricated by his febrile mind.

Gordon pulled Pat into the center of the room, conveniently close to the big bed they had shared so many times. So many good times. It was where Pat had invented his famous pancake recipe, his shake recipe, his diet regimen, all with just a little help from Gordon. That was a love you couldn't buy and sell on the street like so much methamphetamine. A love that couldn't be bought or paid for with all the money the 700 Club received from old age pensioners. Sure, Gordon came to be in Pat's life because of Pat's money, but that was neither here nor there, because the love Pat shared with Gordon was real, and beautiful.

Pat closed his drooping eyelids and tilted his head to give Gordon the perfect access to his wizened lips. Gordon put his hands on Pat's shoulders and plunged his tongue into Pat's mummified mouth like a man drowning of thirst who could only be saved by the moisture of spit. Seldom did Gordon remember that Pat's mouth had become mummified in the last several decades and was like a dry desert sand dune. This never stopped Gordon, though, he always soldiered on, reviving Pat's senses with his exploratory tongue.

Pat ran his hands up and down Gordon's ass, trying with his feeble strength to draw Gordon closer to him. Gordon pushed Pat backwards until Pat's legs came into contact with the bed. Gordon pushed Pat down and straddled him. Pat's eyes shone with the lustful beatitude that only Gordon and God could put there.

To be continued...

Current Mood: quixotic quixotic
Current Music: vonHummer!

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gargleminky
700slash
gargleminky
Title: A Long Day
Who: Pat/Gordon
Where: On the set.
Rating: PG
Chapter: 1

"I will bless the Lord at all times, His praise shall continually be in my mouth. Well that's all the time we've got. For Terry, for Lee, for Christy, for all of us, we tell you goodbye. God bless you."

Pat held Terry's hand until the monitor in front of them diplayed the slow fade to black.

"And...cut. That's it everybody, we are off the air. Great show, people. See you all tomorrow, same time."

The director thanked everyone and left the set, followed by cameramen and other workers. Terry removed her microphone and stood up.

"Well, Pat, I've got to get over to the Living the Life set, so I'll see you tomorrow. Have a great and glorious day. Praise the Lord."

"Thanks, Terry, the same to you. Give my best to your husband and children."

Pat said his goodbyes to Terry and tried to ignore the shadowy figure watching him from the edges of the set. He knew Gordon had been staring at him for some time, but Pat didn't want to appear too eager to see him.

"That was a great show, Daddy, just great," Gordon said as he walked softly towards Pat.

Pat was still sitting in his chair on set, and he spread his legs a little, giving Gordon a subtle hint as to what he wanted.

"Why, thank you Gordon. What say we celebrate another Godly and triumphant show?"

Pat looked Gordon in the eye, and Gordon had seen that look before. It told him that Pat was feeling righteous and holy, that Pat was inflamed with the word of the Lord. He smiled just a little, and knelt before Pat.

"Daddy, let me help you up."

Gordon took Pat's hand in his, feeling the dry parchment skin against his, and kissed the knuckles one by one. Then he stood up, and pulled Pat after him, away from the bright lights of the set.

To be continued...

Current Mood: nauseated nauseated

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