The kid was loud. The kid was rude. The kid was painfully unaware of other people's low tolerance for his theatrics and escapades.
The kid was sexy.
Oh, God, he was sexy. The sight of that bare back, curving to a pert butt in little black and blue striped swim briefs was what really convinced George to buy this house in the suburbs and settle down with his fiance. He didn't admit that to himself of course. A 31-year-old man with a long-term girlfriend didn't make decisions based on how sexy a particular blond nine-year-old boy looked running around the neighbor's yard.
And because of his boy-driven choice of house, the quiet work-at-home life George had envisioned never arrived. Even with the fact that the fourth-grader didn't get home from school until almost 3 o'clock, George Wilson felt under siege. Martha worked late quite often, so George had developed the habit over the years of doing his best coding and designing in those long, swollen hours before and after sunset.
But now his project would get two lines of progress and some clang or shout or squeal would blast into his brain from over the fence.
And there would be Dennis. Usually in some cowboy costume or his ever present striped shirt, or even with just his blue jeans, his smooth torso exposed. The boy would have a surprised or worried look on his cute face, staring at the calamity he had caused, but never seemed as though he felt guilt.
Like today. The boy's parents had bought him a toy helicopter that did not actually fly, because they knew exactly what kind of mischief he would cause with an RC chopper. But they had not counted on Dennis deciding to make his helicopter fly.
With a catapult.
The helicopter had smashed through George's dining room window just as he was backing up the file for his latest contract. The crash had made his fingers twitch and he had mistakenly replaced the new version of the file with the old, losing two hours of labor.
George decided to work on his gazebo for the rest of the afternoon. Gardening and home improvement projects calmed him.
"Hi, Mister Wilson," shouted Dennis as George crossed the garden in his back yard.
Dennis was hanging onto the seven-foot fence by the tops of the staves, his blond cowlick waving and his bright eyes just visible. George braced himself for the inevitable breaking of the staves and replied in a weary voice, "Hi, Dennis."
But the staves didn't break. Dennis never seemed to get hurt from all his wildness. Just other people.
"Mister Wilson, you gonna garden?" The boy lifted himself a few inches higher. He was wearing his usual red overalls with a blue-and-black striped T-shirt. "You gonna garden, Mister Wilson?"
The one unsexy thing about Dennis was that voice—so loud and sharp! He was always shouting, even when playing with just his dog. Even when playing pretend just by himself. George didn't bother answering, pretending to become absorbed in his work and Dennis was soon absorbed in something else on his side of the fence. The gazebo was George's pride and joy. He had been at it since they moved in two months before and it was shaping up to be beautiful. A few last touches were needed and then George could fill in the plant trays with his flowers and he just knew the thing would blossom like a centerpiece from the Garden of Eden.
As he worked, he tried to block out the world. But from over the fence came the sounds of Dennis, screaming as he played, shouting in defiance at his mother, calling her names when she ordered him to come inside, taunting her when he ran up his treehouse and she couldn't follow.
The boy's father was no less impotent when he tried. At some point, there came the splash of the man falling into their pool and Dennis shouting, "Ha, I'm too fast for you, Dad!"
Martha came home at eleven from her night shift at the hospital. George was drinking a second beer in front of the TV.
"Didn't get any work done today, huh?" She hugged him from the side, face against his shoulder.
"Nope." George shrugged. "I did almost finish the gazebo though."
"I assume Dennis is the reason the window's broken."
George sat up. "Oh, honey, I'm sorry I didn't clean it up. I was just so stressed, I had to go outside and—"
"I understand," said Martha. "I know how your daily struggle goes."
"The boy is a menace," said George, sipping his beer and scowling. "I''d love to give him something to really shout about. What he needs is a good spanking."
Martha smiled. "That doesn't work. Trust me, I'm a pediatrician, I know these things."
"It works for you when you're stubborn." George stroked her arm.
"No it doesn't," she replied, borrowing a sip of his beer.
"It does when I follow it up with a good hard fucking."
She grunted agreement. "Yeah, you're right, that does work."
There was a half a beat of silence as her words sunk in and then they looked at each other in disbelief and laughed out loud at the implications for Dennis.
That night, Martha gave George an extra special treat blowjob. She was such a good woman, thinking of his needs even though he knew her days were tough too. He should have asked her to marry him years before.
George awoke in the dark to squeal and barks. The clock said 2.a.m. Naked, George staggered to the wide window and looked out. Across the fence, slightly to his left, was Dennis' room. To the right was the backyard pool, its lights on. In the eerie blue glow, a naked Dennis and his dog ran, from the back fence, over the lawn, screaming and howling. The boy's little cock and balls seemed to swing in slow motion. He and the dog leaped into the pool, making a cannonball splash. For just a few seconds George wondered if Dennis was okay under the water. As George was about to run outside and help, Dennis popped up at the shallow end, laughing and shaking his hair. The boy climbed out of the pool, his wet skin gleaming and dripping.
"He's sexy, isn't he?" Martha squeezed up against George's back in the dark, just as naked as he.
"I— Uh— He's—"
"C'mon, George, you can admit it." She reached down to his crotch and held him. "See? You're all hard."
"You're touching me. It's not that Dennis—"
"Please, baby, we talked about this when we started dating. You like boys. It's fine. You don't have to prove anything to me. I know you're faithful, but that doesn't mean you have to lock away who you are for me."
"I would never— I mean, Dennis— No matter what, I wouldn't—"
"Just look out the window. Go on."
She stroked his leaking cock as he watched Dennis take another run into the pool, this time diving in head first and flashing his perfect round ass. George took a deep breath.
Martha whispered at his side, "Think about what it'd be like to touch him."
"It's just a fantasy, George. You can have a fantasy." She bit his shoulder gently. "A healthy marriage needs fantasy."
Dennis was dancing now, twirling and twerking on the diving board. Oh, God.
Martha pressed against his hip. She was wet!
He looked at her. "Are you horny? Is Dennis making you—?"
"Not Dennis. You and Dennis. The picture of you two together gets me soooo hot. I can just imagine you on top of him, drilling his tiny butt with your big cock while he moans. Ooooh."
His wife-to-be was turned on by this! She thought that George fucking a nine-year-old boy was sexy. As he watched Dennis below, running from his parents as they tried to arrest his midnight shenanigans, the lust in George burst out and he started staining the window with his cum, spurt after wild spurt, as his fiance pumped him through a monster orgasm.
For weeks, George and Martha enjoyed a growing fantasy life, fueled by Dennis and his constant intrusions into their lives. It still annoyed George whenever his work was interrupted by Dennis knocking at his door 'just to say hi' or the boy using a ladder to climb the roof and dump rocks onto the front lawn or Dennis singing rap songs at the top of his voice (and not the radio edit version either). But every time George went back to work after the disturbances, his cock was hard.
One night, Martha lay face-down and asked George to fuck her in the ass. Just as he was near cumming, she said, "You're fantasizing about him, aren't you?"
He panicked and stuttered a lie. "No, umh, I mean, well, just a little, but not— Like—"
"You had your eyes closed, imagining this was Dennis' tight ass you were fucking."
A statement. A true statement.
"Yeah," he admitted.
"Good. I'd hoped you'd do that. C'mon, call me Dennis and fuck me hard."
So he did, blasting a massive load into Martha as he groaned out the neighbor boy's name.
Things changed the day of the fireworks.
It was summer, right before Independence Day, and George was actually in a good mood. Dennis had come over four times that morning to ask for water, even though his mother was at home. It reminded George of something Martha had said to him: "I think he likes you, George. Everyone else he treats like dirt. His parents, his teachers, he gives them Hell...I heard him call his grandmother a 'fuckbucket' last week when she told him to go take a bath."
"I probably just haven't gotten him mad," George had said.
"No, he listens to you. That time at the barbecue when you told him to eat his vegetables if he wanted to go with you to the hardware store, he didn't put up any fight. And you're the only one he ever greets in any pleasant way. I think he wants to be your friend."
"It's hardly pleasant when he's yelling it at max volume."
But George could see what she meant. That morning, he had asked Dennis, "How come I never see you getting into trou— playing with any of the neighbor kids?"
"They don't like me," said Dennis, flatly. His blue eyes seemed momentarily watery and then he added, "Plus I don't like 'em either. They're all wusses and they never want to do anything fun."
Dennis' idea of fun came to an explosive manifestation right after lunch. Literally. Three loud bangs brought George running out to the back porch to find that Dennis was playing with a cardboard tube meant to shoot little fireworks out one after the other into the sky.
But Dennis was using it as a machine gun to blast aliens and was aiming the thing horizontally at the fence between the yards. One shot went high enough to clear the fence and sail into the newly flowering gazebo.
"Dennis!" George yelled, running. "Stop that right now."
"I can't. It won't turn off!"
A fire sprung up in the gazebo and Dennis looked terrified at what was happening. He held the launcher at arms length, as if it were toxic, his wrist slack.
George ignored the gazebo and ripped open the connecting gate to his neighbors' yard, afraid that Dennis would drop the launcher and it would hurt the boy.
"Mr. Wilson, help!"
George grabbed the launcher right after it fired a blast past his ankles and immersed it in the pool, pointing it down.
"God damn it, Dennis, how can you be so stupid?!"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—" Dennis looked up. "Mister Wilson, the fire!" He ran into George's yard.
When he was sure the launcher had gone dead, George left it in the pool and ran after Dennis.
The gazebo was covered in flames and black smoke while Dennis sprayed it with a hose. George grabbed the hose from him and said, "Get away from here!."
"I want to help!"
"You can't help, all you do is fuck things up. Go home!"
With a look of shame and dismay, Dennis ran away and George turned back to the fire. The hose was not enough. Time to call 9-1-1. He didn't want the fire to spread. But when he reached into his pocket for his phone, he realized he had forgotten it inside.
Dennis appeared, a fire extinguisher in hand. He quickly unsnapped the nozzle and started blasting the fire, putting it out almost instantly.
He dropped the extinguisher and stared at the wreckage. George double checked that the fire in his ruined gazebo was really out.
"Is it over?" Dennis asked.
George gritted his teeth, not answering. Four months of work was charred and twisted now. The plants were dead and the roof had collapsed.
Dennis said, "I'm sorry, Mister Wilson. I'll pay for the damage, I swear. I'll help you rebuild too. I have tools and—"
George shouted, "The last thing I would ever do is let you near my property again."
"But I didn't—"
"You never learn. Nobody ever teaches you how to—" Anger and inspiration took hold of George together. "You need a spanking. And I am going to give you exactly what you deserve."
"No, Mister, Wilson, no!" Dennis wriggled as George grabbed his wrist, but George simply dragged him into the house.
"Yes. Oh, yes." He sat at the kitchen table and dragged Dennis, belly down over his lap. As the boy kicked, George unsnapped the buttons of the red overalls and pulled them down. He left them ensnared around Dennis' ankles. He pulled the hem of the striped shirt up to Dennis' chest, exposing the curve of his young ass.
George stroked the boy's firm little butt through his white briefs. Any other day, George would be trembling at the erotic touch of forbidden boy flesh, but all he felt now was anger.
"Mister, Wilson, I'll be good, I promise. I'm sorry I—"
Dennis screamed in pain and shock.
Oh, that felt good to George. All these months of putting up with the boy's annoyances. The destruction of his prize project. His frustration at the Mitchell parents' inability to control their demon spawn. It all burst out in a thunderous assault.
Whap! Whap! Whap!
Dennis was wailing, tears flowing down his cheeks. "It hurts! Stop, Mister Wilson, it hurts!"
George needed more. He ripped the briefs down, exposing the pale skin of Dennis' butt. The touch of that tender surface under his slapping palm was heavenly. It felt like true punishment. The boy was finally getting what he deserved as George reddened his cheeks.
On the man's lap, Dennis squirmed and sobbed and whimpered. His chest was heaving in big breaths and—
And he was hard!
The little boydick was stiff as a nail against the top of George's right thigh and Dennis was grinding it as he continued to get hit. The pain was real for the boy, George was sure of that, but it was also driving him into a lustful haze.
Dennis was still crying, but his mouth was open and slack as he was overcome with the twin sensations of George's stinging hands and the rubbing of the man's thigh against his stiffie. George got instantly hard in response, his pants becoming uncomfortable around his swollen cock. He paused and stroked the warm, rosy buttocks under him.
Dennis moaned in what sounded like appreciation, not pain.
But the anger in George only increased.
"You need more than a spanking, Dennis. You need a good fucking."
George stood and bent Dennis forward, over the kitchen table. He knelt and squeezed the boy's sore butt, making him cry out in a mixture of pain and shocked pleasure. With a lunge, George pressed his face to Dennis' crack and got his mouth against the tasty little hole.
"Mister, Wilson, this is wrong!" Dennis was looking back in panic. "Mister Wilson this is a bad touch, you're not supposed do this!"
Dennis wriggled and George wrapped one arm around his thighs to keep him still. He licked at the boy's pucker and Dennis moaned. It was a moan of enjoyment, and the boy's movements became welcoming, his squirming designed to press his hole against George's sucking and licking.
George pulled back to admire his spit dripping down the boy's hole.
Dennis said, "Oh, wow, Mister Wilson. I don't know why Mommy said this was bad, it feels great!"
"Then you're going to love this," said George. He pressed a hand down on Dennis' back and slid his finger between his downy asscheeks. George worked his fingertip into Dennis' hole.
Dennis squirmed and cried out, "Oooooh, that hurts, oooooh."
George kept going, twisting his finger into Dennis' warm little butthole as the boy wriggled and moaned. When he was all in, George twirled his finger, searching for the little spot on the inside. Dennis stiffened and jerked, and George rubbed that spot again. Dennis moaned in pleasure, softly.
Time for another finger. Dennis whimpered as George stretched him open, but went back to moaning his pleasure as both fingers titillated his special spot while George stretched his ring with circling motions.
George took his shirt off and leaned over the little body. The smooth back felt so vulnerable beneath his hairy torso. George licked Dennis' neck. "You're always screaming and yelling for no reason, making a racket. I'm gonna give you something to really scream about."
Dennis didn't respond. His eyes were glazed with shock and pleasure, like he was awake in a dream. He raised his hips, pressing his small ass against George's hand.
"Oh," said George, smiling, 'you are so ready for this." He untied his sweatpants cord and let it fall to the floor. George didn't wear underwear when working at home, so his hard cock sprang free, thick and eager, from a nest of wiry dark hair.
He pulled his fingers from Dennis and caressed the boy's smooth cheeks, which were still aglow from their spanking. George got the boy into a good position and gave him a few last licks and pokes with his tongue while Dennis sighed contentedly.
"This is gonna hurt a bit, Dennis, but going by what's happened so far, you're going to love it once we get going."
Dennis looked back and his eyes popped in panic at the sight of George's rampant cock. "You're going to put that in me? Mister Wilson?"
"Oh, yes, Dennis. All of it. All the way."
Before Dennis could move, George pinned his slim body to the table and pressed the tip of his shaft to the boy's hole. With searching taps, George found the hole and pressed himself in.
Dennis squirmed and yelled as the head of the thick cock entered his warm, tight hole. George wasn't able to hold back. The thrill was too much and he used his weight to plunge the rest of himself all the way in with one hard thrust while he wrapped his arms around the boy's smooth chest.
With his nose at the little blond cowlick that popped up from Dennis' head, George breathed in. Dennis moaned—part pain, part pleasure, part surrender. Yes, this felt right to George. All these months of having to take shit from this kid and now George was in control. George had taken ownership of the situation as they said back at his old office job.
Oh, sure, George actually liked Dennis a lot. And just the sexy little body under him would have been enough to drive him wild, but knowing that it was this boy, that George wasn't letting himself be a doormat anymore, made it all doubly delicious.
George rubbed his hand up Dennis' smooth sides. The boy sniffled. From above, George could see tears under his eyes, but also the boy was going to that place he'd visited before, only deeper than ever—Dennis was being overcome with lust and physical pleasure.
And maybe mental pleasure too? George was no expert, but it seemed to him that Dennis' whole wild side was a cry for someone to dominate him. The boy needed limits and order in his life, maybe more than any kid, and now that an adult was finally pushing back (Pushing in too!) Dennis was finding satisfaction in knowing his place.
Dennis purred. Oh yes, George thought, the kid was definitely happy with a massive cock up his ass and a large man holding his body in place.
George pulled back and rammed Dennis again. Dennis squealed in a way that communicated distress and wonder all at once. George had a feeling the boy needed it rough. And certainly George needed to give it to him rough. Grasping Dennis' shoulders in a tight grip, George heaved his cock a few more times into the tight passage. Each thrust made Dennis gasp and cry out in bewildered pleasure.
"You like that, Dennis?" George asked. He pounded away at the warm, moist butthole.
"Oh, Mister Wilson, what's happening?"
"I'm fucking you, Dennis. I'm breaking in your little boy hole." George bit Dennis' neck. "You like it? You like my big cock in your ass?"
"It feels great. I know it's wrong to let you do this, but I don't want you to stop."
George chuckled and continued fucking his nine-year-old neighbor's welcoming butt. He rubbed Dennis nipples, stroked his belly, made the boy suck his fingers, squeezed his tender ass cheeks...basically treated Dennis as if the boy belonged to him, leaving no crevice unexplored and unclaimed.
And that increased the thrill for George, knowing that he wasn't just sticking his cock up the boy's ass, but was using the molestation of his whole body to claim his mind. George was going to tame Dennis by the time this was all over.
George stood tall and watched his thick cock slide in and out of Dennis' small ass. The image reassured him that his whole life was different now. George was in charge. The adult was going to call the shots from this point. The boy, the lovely boy, his smooth back and slim arms and red, drooling lips, the boy had no defiance left in him.
Holding tighter on Dennis' hips, George stroked faster and deeper.
Dennis moaned and shuddered.
George's orgasm built like a gathering storm and then he was lost in the tide of release. He spanked the side of the boy's buttcheeks, harder and harder, six good whacks.
"Oh, yes! Take it, Dennis! Take it all!"
The table was scraping along the kitchen floor as George hammered his way into the depths of Dennis' tight passage and let loose in gushing spurts. Five, six, seven, he lost track of the pulsing through his cock and it all flowed into one river of satisfaction and triumph.
A few last tingles of pleasure spread from his cock through his body as he gathered his breathing and his thinking.
He had fucked Dennis! The enormity of the act took hold of his imagination.
The boy seemed exhausted and worn out, but he had a half-smile twitching at his open lips. George was sure Dennis would be okay, but what about Martha? What about if the boy's parents found out?
George stroked Dennis' back. Dennis sighed, a deep sound that meant he didn't want to be anywhere else.
"Thank you, Dennis," George said in his ear. "You probably needed that more than me, but I'm definitely happy I got to fuck you."
"I feel different," said Dennis, in a dreamy voice.
"Like I'm not in real life anymore. Like I can see everything in a new way."
"I guess you had your paradigms shifted as my boss would put it."
"Is that good?"
"It depends. Do you like this new world? Is this the way you want things to be from now on?"
Dennis looked over his shoulder, his cowlick bobbing, and beamed. "Oh, yes, Mister Wilson. I'm gonna come visit so you can fuck me every day now!"
And for the first time, George Wilson felt joy at the thought of Dennis, the menace, interrupting his day.
Near the end of that summer, George sat in a folding chair with Dennis on his lap. The Mitchells had invited him and Martha over for a barbecue in their backyard and now the adults were talking as they sat around near the pool. Dennis was listening quietly, his head leaning back against George's shoulder while holding George's hand at the side of the chair.
Every now and again, Mr. Mitchell looked over at Dennis and George suspiciously. So did Martha. Mrs. Mitchell just seemed oblivious, talking about everything all at once, clearly giddy at the opportunity to host guests now that Dennis was being well-behaved.
Dennis had been a model child since he'd gotten fucked. He had become polite and considerate. He moderated his voice when he was excited and even had a few friends in the neighborhood.
He had also become an enthusiastic sex partner for George, learning to please him with his mouth and hands as well as offering up the use of his sweet butt. He was ready to try any new act or position and always said 'please' when he asked George to fuck him.
And 'thank you' afterward.
Observing Martha and Mr. Mitchell's glances, George realized something. Mr. Mitchell wasn't suspicious of George. He was just still stunned at the inexplicable change in Dennis and so was worried the Menace might return even after all these weeks.
Martha on the other hand, that was real suspicion. George still hadn't told her about fucking Dennis.
When the clock in the kitchen chimed for eight o'clock, Mrs. Mitchell looked nervously at her husband. He took a deep breath and said, "Dennis, it's bed time now."
"Okay, daddy," Dennis said, sounding tired. "Can Mister Wilson sleep over with me?"
Martha and Mrs. Mitchell laughed. Mr. Mitchell narrowed his eyes.
"Mister Wilson has to sleep over with me," said Martha. "Maybe you can sleep over at our house another time."
Something about her tone of voice seemed a little too excited, George felt.
"Okay," said Dennis, getting slowly to his feet. "Can Mister Wilson come tuck me in then? Please?"
Mrs. Mitchell gave George a hopeful look. She knew that whatever was keeping Dennis calm nowadays, it came from George.
Martha said, "Oh, yes, honey, go put him to bed and I'll keep the Mitchells company."
Upstairs, Dennis brushed his teeth cheerily and hummed a song. George stood behind him, stroking the boy's smooth ass under his pajamas.
"Can I really sleep over with you?" Dennis asked.
"I can't promise," said George. What was Martha up to offering that, he wondered.
Mr. Mitchell showed up at the door, clearly still too nervous to trust Dennis' new good behavior. George shifted to block the sight of his hand molesting the man's son.
Mr. Mitchell said, "Don't keep Mister Wilson waiting too long, Dennis."
"George," said Mr. Mitchell quietly.
"Yes?" George walked over to the door and stood close.
"I don't know what's going on between you and my son, and I don't want to know. You can't understand how much it means to us to see our son be so...different after all these years. It's like a war is over. The worst part was thinking he wouldn't have a future, but now his grades are good and he understands how to deal with people and stick to tasks..." Mr. Mitchell looked over at his son happily washing his mouth. "I can see he's fine with everything you're doing, whatever it might be, and I'm actually kind of grateful. I'll make sure the two of you get the time alone you need."
"Thanks," said George, "You have a wonderful son."
"Yeah, I bet," said Mr. Mitchell sarcastically.
When they were alone again, George kissed Dennis on his minty-fresh mouth and carried him to his bedroom. He threw the boy facedown on the bed and spanked his butt lightly.
"Please, Mister Wilson," said Dennis, "can you fuck me before you go?"
"Oh, I don't think I have time. Martha is going to—"
"Martha's fine with it," said his wife at the door. She was leaning on the frame with an amused expression. "Go on, George, give the little slut what he wants. Everyone in the house already knows what's happening up here anyway. I bet his parents might even get a little kick out of hearing their son being loud after all this time being quiet. I certainly did."
"You've heard us?"
"Yesterday, when you had him in the garage, yes."
"Oh. I was just kind of horny and I figured you were too busy watching The Voi—"
"I understand all about being horny. I'm horny now. I'm horny to see you fuck this boy in his own bedroom."
"Dennis?" said Martha, "Would you mind me watching as Mister Wilson fucks your sexy little butt?"
"Oh, no, I don't care who's watching as long as he sticks it in me good."
George looked down at the boy's smile and unzipped himself. His cock was already rock hard and leaking. Dennis beamed and scampered over on all fours where he took it in his delicate hands and sucked on the knob.
George gasped at the feel of that moist, warm mouth on him. The sight of Dennis' blue eyes as he eagerly sucked was enthralling, even after seeing this scene once a day since the fire.
"Oh, look at that," said Martha. "His lips are straining to get around that wide head. It's so damned hot." She leaned against the wall, hiking up her dress and reaching into her wet panties. "Fuck, him for me, baby. Fuck that little boy for me."
"Yeah!" said Dennis, jumping on the bed, "Fuck me, Mister Wilson. Fuck me!"
George glanced out of the bedroom door, certain that the boy's parents had to have heard that downstairs. The only sound coming back was the TV.
George reached out and grabbed the bouncing boy's ankles yanking him so that he fell to the mattress on his stomach. Dennis squealed in delight and then giggled as George crawled up to straddle him. With excited hands, George tugged Dennis' pajamas down over the sharp curve of his buttocks, exposing the pale skin to his lustful eyes.
And to his wife too. "His ass is so cute," said Martha, her hand moving under her panties. "I can't wait to see your cock stuck inside that little butt. I can't believe you'll make it fit."
George knew it would fit, but it was still an amazing sight for him too. He pulled Dennis up to a kneeling position, the smooth butt waving in the air. George spit on his fingers and played with the boy's hole, edging two fingers in bit by bit, until he was working them in and out freely.
"You ready, Dennis?"
"Yes, sir, Mister Wilson."
Widening his stance a bit, George got his cock head to the boy's ready hole and sank it through the opening in one long, steady thrust.
As his shaft found its way deeper in the boy's soft, silky warmth, George sighed. Dennis cooed. Martha moaned. She had tugged her panties down and was working her pussy with one hand while the other kept her dress out of the way.
Knowing that time was short, George went briskly, sliding in and out with shorter, faster strokes. He spanked Dennis' butt lightly and the boy's head came up as his butt tightened.
Dennis had grown to love spankings of late. Sometimes, he'd wander in to George's house and request one with a shy smile, then limp home after, with nothing else sexual taking place. The boy's need to be dominated came out in other little ways too. He would ask George for outrageous favors, just so the man would tell him no. He would suckle George's cock, kneeling between his legs for hours while George watched sports. Dennis had even gotten George to handcuff him and play a kidnap game a few times.
That submissive side of Dennis, revealed after so long, drove George crazy—most of all when they fucked and he knew he had complete possession of the boy. And tonight he had a free hand from his wife and the boy's parents. It was such a turn on to think his own wife was cheering on this boy's sexual servitude. That Dennis' own parents were complicit in George molesting their son.
The atmosphere of freedom and power filled George head as he fucked Dennis' tight chute and he was soon panting on his way to a climax.
Over by the wall, Martha had already gone through a couple of orgasms, judging by the way she had stiffened and shuddered.
The pleasure built in George, up his thighs and stomach as he quickened his pace and began ramming the boy.
"I'm cumming, Dennis. I'm cumming in your sweet little ass and it feels amazing."
Dennis could not reply. He was in his 'getting fucked good' daze, mouth drooling as his head lay on the mattress.
"Fuck him, George," said Martha. "Shove that big cock in his little hole and give him all your juice. Do it for me, George."
George let go, heaving and grunting as he made seven or eight big thrusts into Dennis' warm, slick hole, his nerves lit up with excitement and joy. As he finished shooting his last drops, George kissed Dennis' blonde head, the cowlick tickling his nose.
"You were great, Dennis."
In a sleepy voice, Dennis replied, "Thanks, Mister Wilson."
Over by the wall, Martha had slumped to the floor in her final orgasm, sweat creating a sheen on her face and arms. George pulled out and watched his white cum leak from Dennis' half-open hole and over his tight little balls.
Dennis was already breathing steadily and his eyes were shut. George, considered leaving him exposed like that for his parents to see, but finally just covered his playmate with the comforter. He helped his wife up and they got each other's clothes neatened before going downstairs to finish their evening.
For a few minutes, there was awkward silence as the two couples sat around the living room, not making eye contact, but Mrs. Mitchell finally overcame it and said, "We're so glad you two moved in next door. Dennis really likes you."
"Well, he likes George at any rate," said Martha with a mischievous tone.
The two women laughed.
The memory of having just fucked Dennis and now subtly acknowledging it to his parents made him hard again. He pulled a sofa cushion into his lap. Martha smiled when she saw.
"We were thinking," said Mr. Mitchell, "that we could— You see, Dennis was already on the way when we got married and we always figured we'd have our honeymoon after he was born, but then, well, he's Dennis, you know."
"Yeah," said George, "So you two want to leave Dennis with me and Martha for a couple of weeks and go to Mexico or something?"
"Would you?" asked Mrs. Mitchell, desperation in her eyes. "We haven't had a break from Dennis in ten years."
Martha reached under the cushion and squeezed George's hard cock. She said to the couple, "Oh, we'd love to have him. He and George are going to have just the best time. I'll make sure of it."
George squirmed under her touch.
"But I do have one condition," added Martha, smiling. "When George and I get married, you have to let Dennis come on our honeymoon with us."
Comments welcome. Even if you're reading this in an archive years from now, I'd love to hear what you think.