In this descent into pure filth, Joseph, the cuckolded carpenter of Nazareth, snaps under the blazing sun. Fueled by rage over Mary’s donkey-fucking antics, he ambushes the three kings, brutally raping Balthazar up the ass in a savage display of dominance behind a scraggly olive tree. But the depravity doesn’t stop there. After witnessing Mary get railed by Big Dick, Joseph dives into the chaos, bending over for Bigger Dick in a brutal, ass-stretching donkey fuckfest. No blood, just raw, relentless sex in the dust of Nazareth, where holiness goes to die. A blasphemous, gut-punching tale for the most depraved minds.
The sun scorched the cracked earth of Nazareth, a piss-stinking nowhere town where the air tasted like dust and despair. Joseph, a carpenter with hands rougher than the splintered wood he worked, was a man on the edge. He’d been simmering with rage for weeks, ever since the rumors started swirling about his so-called “virgin” wife, Mary. The bitch had been acting strange—sneaking off, coming back sweaty and disheveled, with a smirk that made his blood boil. He’d heard the whispers: Mary, the holy mother-to-be, was fucking donkeys behind his back. Donkeys! The shame burned hotter than the desert sun, and Joseph was done playing the cuckolded fool.
It was late afternoon when he stomped back to their shitty little hut, his sandals kicking up clouds of dirt. He’d been out in the fields, trying to clear his head, when he spotted a strange entourage approaching from the east. Three men, decked out in gaudy robes and glittering jewels, rode in on camels like they owned the fucking place. The three kings—Melchior, Caspar, and Balthazar—had come bearing gifts for the “savior” they’d heard about, following some bullshit star. Joseph didn’t give a rat’s ass about their prophecy. All he saw was an opportunity to vent his fury.
He intercepted them just outside the village, near a scraggly olive tree where the shade did little to ease the heat. The kings dismounted, their camels snorting and spitting, and introduced themselves with pompous smiles. Melchior, the oldest, was a wiry bastard with a gray beard and a condescending tone. Caspar, younger and fatter, carried a chest of gold that glinted in the sun. Balthazar, the tallest, had skin like polished ebony and a voice that dripped with arrogance. Joseph sized them up, his fists clenching. He didn’t care about their gifts or their star. He wanted to break something—someone.
“You’re here for the child, huh?” Joseph growled, his voice low and dangerous. The kings nodded, oblivious to the storm brewing in his eyes. Balthazar stepped forward, holding out a jar of myrrh like it was supposed to mean something. “We bring offerings for the king of kings,” he said, his tone smooth as silk. That was the last straw. Joseph’s rage exploded like a kicked hornet’s nest.
“Fuck your king of kings!” he roared, lunging at Balthazar. The king didn’t have time to react before Joseph’s meaty fist slammed into his jaw, sending him sprawling into the dirt. Melchior and Caspar shouted, fumbling for their daggers, but Joseph was a man possessed. He kicked Balthazar in the ribs, hard enough to make the man wheeze, then grabbed him by the collar of his fancy robe and dragged him behind the olive tree. “You wanna worship something?” Joseph snarled. “Worship this, you pompous fuck.”
Balthazar tried to scramble away, his hands clawing at the dirt, but Joseph was stronger. He pinned the king face-down, yanking down the man’s silk trousers with a vicious tug. Balthazar’s ass was exposed, smooth and dark, and Joseph didn’t hesitate. He spat into his hand, smeared it over his cock—already hard from the sheer adrenaline of his rage—and lined himself up. “This is what you get for showing up uninvited,” he hissed, then slammed into Balthazar with a force that made the king scream.
The sex was brutal, relentless, a punishment more than anything else. Joseph didn’t care about Balthazar’s cries, didn’t care about the way the man’s body tensed and shuddered beneath him. He pounded into him, each thrust a release of every ounce of humiliation he’d felt since Mary started her donkey-fucking escapades. The king’s ass clenched around him, tight and unyielding, but Joseph kept going, his hands gripping Balthazar’s hips so hard the skin turned pale under his fingers. The olive tree’s branches shook with the force of their bodies, leaves falling like a perverse rain.
Balthazar’s screams turned to whimpers, his face pressed into the dirt, but Joseph didn’t let up. He fucked him harder, faster, his breath coming in ragged grunts. “You like that, huh? You fucking royal prick,” he spat, slamming in deep with every word. The king’s body rocked with each thrust, his robes bunched around his waist, his precious myrrh jar rolling forgotten in the dust. Joseph didn’t stop until he felt the pressure building, his balls tightening, and then he came with a guttural roar, unloading deep inside Balthazar’s ass. He pulled out with a wet pop, leaving the king trembling and broken in the dirt.
Melchior and Caspar had watched the whole thing, frozen in horror, their hands still on their daggers but too scared to move. Joseph stood, wiping his cock on the hem of Balthazar’s robe, and glared at them. “Get the fuck out of here,” he growled. “And take your shitty gifts with you.” The two kings didn’t need to be told twice. They grabbed their camels, leaving Balthazar to crawl after them, his trousers still around his ankles, his pride shattered.
Joseph’s chest heaved as he watched them disappear over the horizon. The rage was still there, simmering, but now it had a new edge—a twisted kind of hunger. He turned back toward the hut, his mind replaying the whispers about Mary and those fucking donkeys. He needed to see it for himself. He needed to know.
He found her out back, just like the rumors said. Mary was bent over a low stone wall, her robe hiked up to her waist, while one of the donkeys—Big Dick, she called it—railed her with a cock that looked like it could split a tree trunk. The beast was relentless, its hooves scraping the dirt, its braying echoing across the plains. Mary was moaning, cursing, her hands gripping the wall as she took every inch of the donkey’s brutal thrusts. “Fuck yes, you big-dicked bastard!” she screamed, her voice raw with ecstasy.
Joseph stood there, hidden behind a pile of firewood, his cock hardening again despite himself. He should’ve been furious, should’ve stormed over and beaten the shit out of her, but instead, he was… aroused. The sight of Mary, the so-called holy mother, getting fucked senseless by a donkey was the most depraved, intoxicating thing he’d ever seen. His hand slipped into his trousers, stroking himself as he watched, his breath hitching with every one of Big Dick’s thrusts.
When the donkey finally finished, unloading with a bray that shook the fucking earth, Mary collapsed against the wall, panting and dripping. Joseph stepped out from his hiding spot, his cock still in his hand, and Mary’s eyes widened. “Joseph, you—” she started, but he cut her off with a snarl. “Shut the fuck up,” he snapped, his gaze shifting to the second donkey—Bigger Dick—grazing nearby. If Mary could do it, so could he. He was done being the pathetic husband. He wanted a piece of the action.
He grabbed Bigger Dick by the rope around its neck, dragging the beast over to the same spot where Mary had just been fucked. The donkey snorted, its massive cock already swinging, and Joseph didn’t waste time. He dropped his trousers, bent over the wall just like Mary had, and slapped the donkey’s flank. “Come on, you dumb fuck,” he growled. “Let’s see if you’re as good as she says.”
Bigger Dick didn’t need much encouragement. The donkey mounted him with a clumsy lunge, its cock slamming into Joseph’s ass with a force that made him see stars. It was brutal, raw, and fucking relentless. The beast didn’t care about Joseph’s grunts of pain, didn’t care about the way his body shook with every thrust. It just kept going, pounding into him with a rhythm that was all animal, all instinct. Joseph’s hands gripped the wall, his knuckles white, as the donkey fucked him harder than Balthazar could ever dream of.
“Fuck… fuck!” Joseph roared, his voice a mix of agony and twisted pleasure. The donkey’s cock was massive, stretching him to his limits, but he took it, every goddamn inch. His own cock was rock-hard, bouncing with every thrust, and he reached down to stroke himself, matching the donkey’s brutal pace. Mary watched from the sidelines, her eyes wide, a smirk playing on her lips. “Look at you, you filthy bastard,” she taunted, her voice dripping with mockery. “Knew you’d come around.”
Joseph didn’t care about her words. He was lost in the sheer depravity of it all, the donkey’s thrusts driving him closer to the edge. Bigger Dick brayed, its hooves digging into the dirt, and Joseph felt the beast tense, its cock pulsing inside him. The donkey came with a force that made Joseph’s whole body shudder, filling him with a hot, sticky flood that dripped down his thighs. He came at the same time, his own release splattering onto the wall, his roar mixing with the donkey’s bray in a symphony of filth.
He collapsed against the wall, panting, his ass throbbing from the brutal fucking. Bigger Dick wandered off, snorting, while Mary clapped slowly, her laughter cutting through the haze. “Welcome to the club, asshole,” she said, tossing him a rag to clean himself up. Joseph didn’t respond. He just sat there, staring at the donkey, his mind a mess of shame, rage, and a sick kind of satisfaction.
Nazareth would never be the same. The three kings were long gone, Balthazar’s ass ruined, and Joseph and Mary had crossed a line there was no coming back from. The donkeys—Big Dick and Bigger Dick—grazed contentedly, oblivious to the chaos they’d caused. And somewhere, in the back of Joseph’s mind, he knew this was only the beginning.