Disclaimer
The story that follows is about three boys and a man. The boys' ages are nine, eleven, and fourteen. The man is an adult. It is fiction extracted from my weird mind and never happened. Turns out, in this story, the nine-year-old is in complete charge, and as much as it can be considering the age differences, the sex is consensual, not legally of course, but in the context of the story it is.
Although the story is fiction and the characters in this story are fictional, I have certain boys in my distant past in mind. Don't worry, though. This story, as written never happened, and no one in it would recognize himself. It just helps to have a real boy in mind when I write them, and usually, I'm one of the boys, as I am in this story. You can try to guess which one is me. Be assured, no real boy was abused or harmed in the writing of this story. There was a chicken coop, and certain things happened in it, but not as much as happened in the story - unfortunately. There was a Bobby and the little fucker knew more about sex than any nine-year-old should, but the Bobby I knew never got fucked - as far as I knew at the time.
If you like reading my stories and others posted on Nifty, please make a contribution to the site. They are already contributing their time to bring them to you, and having run a website myself, I know it isn't cheap to run a site like this. If you want to continue to have access to such stories, please send them something. You may do so at http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html. Clicking on the "Donate" button will take you to the appropriate link. Donate
If you like the story and wish to comment, the author's email is zach.lucas@anonymousspeech.com
Note:
Some people reported having difficulty viewing the whole page on my stories without scrolling horizontally. I believe I have eliminated that problem, but if you are having it on earlier stories of mine, resize the page so it's smaller than 1025px and it should trigger a tablet view and eliminate the margins. You should also be able to read the stories on a smartphone.
Fucking Bobby, part 3
Richard Jenkins:
Fuck...fuck...fuck! Ben couldn't get it up. He couldn't fuck me. I needed to get fucked. I tried jacking off, but it wasn't working. I didn't know if I would ever spurt again, but it didn't matter as long as someone, anyone, would stick his dick up my ass. I needed to get fucked!
I walked through the house looking for something to stick up my ass, a fucking banana, a cucumber, any fucking thing, but I couldn't find anything remotely suitable. I tried the handle of Ben's hairbrush, but it was too thin, too hard, and not long enough. It wasn't a dick, and it wasn't doing the trick. I searched through Ben's drawers hoping he had a dildo, but I couldn't find one.
Shit! I needed to get fucked! I needed someone's cock up my ass.
Bobby was hogging the only hard cock in the house. I'd show him, the fucking twit. I opened the front door and went onto the porch surprised to find that it was still daylight. It felt like we'd been at it all night. There I was, in the daylight, naked, with my cock pointing straight out from my crotch. I looked over to see Bobby's next door neighbor, Mr. Bainbridge, staring at me. I waved at him:
"Mr. Bainbridge. Come on over. I need to get fucked."
That would show Bobby. I would fuck his next door neighbor. That would sure show him.
Fucking Bobby.
Jon Wilkins:
I saw Richie leave the room. I wanted him to come back. I didn't know why I did, but I did. Bobby was still riding me. Ever so often, I would spurt, but my dick stayed hard, and he would keep on riding it. Somewhere, deep inside my head, I was afraid he would break something, and I would never be able to come again, but just then, it didn't matter. Nothing really mattered except for that moment of fucking and climaxes. Did anything else matter?
Then, I heard someone yelling off in a distance, "I need to get fucked." He said something else, but that part I understood. It was Richie.
I wanted to say, "Come here, Richie. I'll fuck you, but I couldn't. The pathway from my brain to my vocal cords was broken. I could think the words, but I couldn't say them. Besides, Bobby was riding my cock, and it didn't look like he was ever getting off it, and I was really getting sleepy, anyway.
Fucking Bobby.
Ben Holcomb:
Oh shit! I am so fucked. Richie was out front hollering, "I need to get fucked! He walked past me a while ago, and I heard him prowling through the house, but with everything else going on, it didn't seem worth the effort to get up and check on him, but then he was outside yelling his fucking head off. I heard him open the front door and go out. I supposed the little fucker was still naked.
I couldn't run right after him. I've had to get my clothes on first and hope I grabbed him before someone saw and heard him, then I heard him holler at Avery Bainbridge. Fuck! If Avery was outside and saw him, I was really screwed.
I grabbed my pants and slipped on a shirt and ran after Richie. He was standing on the edge of the porch yelling at Avery: "Come on over, Mr. Bainbridge. We got beer and we got Qualuudes, and I need to get fucked. Jon's got the only hard dick in the house, and Bobby is riding it."
I grabbed Richie, picking him up under one arm, and while he fought me, kicking and punching me, I said to Avery, "He's having a psychotic breakdown. He has these episodes occassionally. He'll be all right. I'll just give him his medicine, now."
"Where's Bobby?" Avery said. "I know he's staying with you."
"He's watching TV," I said.
"I want to see him," he said.
"Uh...now's not a good time."
"I'm calling the cops," Avery said.
"No...no, don't do that. I've got everything under control."
But, he went inside, slamming his door behind him.
Oh, fuck! I was so screwed. I carried Richie back into the house, and no sooner that I was inside, he went limp and passed out. I carried him into the den and found both Jon and Bobby unconscious. Bobby was slumped over on Jon's chest with Jon's hard cock still up his ass, from which Jon's spunk was running. I had no idea a kid could produce so much spunk. It was everywhere. Spunk was on the couch, on chairs, and on the floor. Some of it, I guessed, was mine, but most of it was Jon's. He had fucked Bobby and Richie, or rather, they had ridden him to climax after climax. I had to get this place cleaned up before the cops arrived, but I didn't have much fucking time.
I grabbed a towel out of the bathroom, got it good and wet, and grabbed a dry one. Taking them back into the den , I pulled Bobby off of Jon's cock and cleaned Jon off first. He was out cold, but his cock was as hard as ever. Next, I made a quick pass over Bobby with the wet towel and dried him off, picked him up and took him into the spare room and put him to bed naked. I just didn't have enough time to round up his clothes and dress him.
Next, I picked up Jon and carried him into the bedroom and put him to bed beside Bobby before going back for Rickie. By the time I got to Richie, someone was pounding on my front door.
"It's the police. Open up."
Grabbing Richie, I took him into the bedroom and put him in bed with the other two and pulled the covers over the three of them. I didn't have time to clean him up.
The pounding on my front door had increased. "Police. Open up, now."
I think I got to the door about the time they were about to break it down.
"What's up Officer?" I said upon opening the door.
"Where's the boy?"
"Oh...you must mean Richie. I'm watching him, and he boy isn't right in the head," I said tapping my head with my forefinger. "I'm afraid he has these psychotic breaks once in a while and acts inappropiately. He's okay, now. He's asleep."
"We want to see him."
"Now's not a good time, Officer. I've just got him settled down. I'm afraid we would do irreperable harm it disturb him now."
"Never-the-less, we want to see him, and we want to see the other boy, too."
"The other boy?"
"Yes," said the second cop, " your neighbor says another boy is staying with you."
"Oh, you must mean Bobby. I'm looking after him while his parents are out of town."
"We want to see them, now."
"Uh...do you have a search warrant?"
One of them grabbed me while the other one cuffed my hands behind my back. "We have probable cause," he said. "Your neighbor reported seeing a naked boy on your porch. Now, where are the boys?"
Resigned to my fate, I said, "They're in the bedroom," and I showed them the way to my guest bedroom.
They tried to wake up the boys but couldn't. "What's wrong with them? What have you done to them?"
"Nothing...nothing. I didn't do anything. I think they got into my Qualuudes. Now, I didn't give them any, but I think one of them found them in my medicine cabinet, and they all took some."
"Call an ambulance, Pete," the cop said, "and get a crime scene investigation squad out here." He had just pulled back the covers. "These kids are covered in semen. The bed reeks of it."
Looking at me, the other one said, "Fucking pervert."
They waited for the ambulance to arrive.
One of the EMTs asked me, "What did you give them?"
"I didn't give them anything."
"Look, if you don't want these kids dying on you, you'll tell us what they ingested."
"They had beer and Qualuudes -- but I didn't give them the Qualuudes. They stole them out of the medicine cabinet."
They picked up Bobby first: "My god!" the EMT said, "This kid's got cum running out of his asshole," and he gave me a dirty, full of loathing look."
When their backups arrived, the cops put me in the back or their cruiser and took me downtown. Man, I am so screwed, and it's all Bobby's fault.
Fucking Bobby.
Jon Wilkins:
I woke up in the hospital with an IV in my arm. My dick was still hard and wouldn't go down. By the time it did, it was pretty well ruined. I can't get it hard at all, now.
It looked like all the blame was going to be put on Ben at first, but Bobby told the cops that Richie and I had been fucking him for months, that we'd threatened to hurt him if he didn't go along with our sex games. He told them about the chicken coop, and he even showed them the t-shirt he'd worn when he gave me that first blowjob. It had my spunk on it, and it turned out that he had worn the same t-shirt the first time he'd given Richie a blowjob, and it had Richie's spunk on it, too. He told the cops he'd been so ashamed that he'd hidden the shirt in his closet. I don't think they bothered asking why he'd worn the same t-shirt when he'd given both me and Richie blowjobs, but to hear Bobby tell it, he had been our innocent victim. We tried to tell our side of the story, but no one would believe a cute little nine-year-old could have been the instigator of our infamous sex ring; besides, he had spunk from all three of us on him and in him. He had our spunk in his hair, and since all three of us had fucked him, it was up his rectum, too.
Ben took a plea and was sentenced to fifteen years in the pen and lifetime registration as a sex offender. Richie pleaded guilty and received two years at KYCC in Topeka. I took it to trial, was found guilty and was sentenced to KYCC until I was eighteen plus two more years in an adult prison and lifetime registration as a sex offender. Bobby, of course, got off scot free and was called a hero for having the courage to testify against us, thus breaking up our sex ring before it enslaved other young boys in the community.
My lawyer said it looked like Bobby had planned this all along and asked if he had a grudge against me, but I told him we had always been friends, and I couldn't think of anything. I like to think that Bobbie just got scared and was looking for a way out of the mess we were in. After all, it was Richie who went out on the porch naked and yelled, "I want to get fucked." Still, Bobby sure screwed up my life.
Fucking Bobby.