Part 2 of Book 7. From the Beast (The Seventh Catamite, Jason)
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Book 7: From the Beast (Part 2)
With editing and technical assistance from Master Frank
Original documents translated and interpreted by:
Professor Andrew K. Paxton
Historical accuracy and fact checking
by: Keith Reiner, Ph.D. Ancient History
Prose checking and
inspiration by: Anonymous Maestro
Readers are strongly encouraged to read Part One of Book Seven before proceeding. Failure to do so may result in character confusion, misinterpretation of symbolism, plot abstruseness, nocturnal discharges, heart palpitation, and genital distention.
Also, my apologies to ‘Bill’, a particularly generous donor, who wants to read more about Kyle and ‘pussification.’ Unfortunately, Bill will need to wait for the next installment.
Ganymede
John Madison stood in the doorway, unannounced. The last thing he wanted was to shock the kid within an hour of meeting him for the first time; however, the temptation was too great to resist. He was a little ashamed of himself for watching his son, even though he was no more than a blur through steamy glass
Jason’s puppy-like whimper was unmistakable, yet even as lust raised its incestuous head, the unsuspecting boy rinsed away foamy shampoo, turned off the water, and opened the shower door.
Madison smiled awkwardly. “I was beginning to worry… you were in here so long,” he muttered, the victim of instantaneous guilt.
Before rinsing off, Jason had played with his penis, soapy little fingers grasping and twisting. Concentration compensated for he lacked in technique, back arched and eyes closed in dreamy pleasure, completely unaware that someone watched him. He was so guilt-ridden; he’d stopped the instant he started to twitch. Otherwise, he masturbated like a much older boy.
Madison wondered if he should pinch himself as his eyes travelled from head to feet. However, he wasn’t dreaming. For years he’d fantasized about JTT, a kid actor from the 1990s’ sitcom, Home Improvement. That fantasy ended the instant he saw his son naked. Jason was startlingly good-looking, yet there was no doubt he shared his father’s DNA. It was like looking at a cut-down version of himself at the same age.
Jason wrapped his arms around his chest as if he’d read his father’s mind. “I’m the smallest in my grade.”
“No problemo. We’ll fatten you up; put you on a diet of steak and potatoes,” he joked.
”Good luck on that. I don’t eat very much.”
No wonder he couldn’t stop staring; his son was all-boy, classically proportioned, and firmly muscled like a little lion cub. The short, very stiff penis that poked up from his crotch only added to his allure.
“Earth to Dad…”
Aware that he’d been caught staring, Madison flinched. “You sure you washed behind your ears?”
Jason looked back at him, as much as saying ‘We both know I’m old enough to shower by myself.’
“It’s important to get everything clean, especially the weenie.” He tried to make it sound like a joke. However, if his tone was contrite, his penis wasn’t. He felt his underpants tighten, only seconds from reaching outright erection.
“I washed it.”
“I noticed. Sometimes, it needs more cleaning than the rest of you,” he chuckled.
Jason’s bottom lip pushed out. “I couldn’t help it.”
“Nothing wrong about jacking off. It’s no big deal; all guys do it.”
With a grin, he wrapped a big fluffy towel around Jason and pummeled him dry.
Jason huddled closer and nervously peeked up, hoping for forgiveness though not expecting any. He’d been punished too often to think otherwise; however, a reassuring glow began in his tummy the instant he saw his father’s eyes. He looked away quickly, a few precious seconds, awe etched into his memory, making his heart race. Increasingly nervous, he glanced up again when the vigorous toweling ended. For n instant, he thought he might get a hug, yet his father quickly backed away, leaving the towel draped over his shoulders.
“Feeling better?” Madison asked, his voice hoarse.
Jason gave a little shrug and looked up. “You made me all tingly,” he murmured.
“More horny than tingly, I’d say. Look at you, all big and hard,” Madison said, feeling tingly too.
Jason’s eyes darted down. His little penis was proudly upright. “I can’t help it.”
Suddenly, Madison was so weak that he needed to sit down. “You’re a boy; it’s supposed to do that.”
“It looks stupid.”
“Actually, you look sexy with your dick sticking up.” Madison made a shocked face. “Oops!”
With an uncomfortable smile, Jason again looked down. His erection twitched slightly. “You really think I’m sexy?”
Madison nodded. He’d never been more serious.
“You need to get out more, Dad.”
Behind his bath robe, Madison’s bloated penis throbbed mercilessly. “I don’t see why. I’ve got everything I want right here.”
“It’s tiny!”
The implication struck hard, before he wondered whether he was jumping to conclusions. “You’re a beautiful boy with a beautiful body, teenie weenie included.”
Jason’s cheeks flushed visibly, his penis swelling up even more, yet still a shade paler than the slowly darkening sign on his belly.
“You know, there’s a scientific formula for how big it should be. You’re ten right? Height about… four feet. Weight…”
“Sixty-two pounds.”
Madison pretended to calculate. “A ten-year-old stiffie should be…” He counted first, middle, and ring fingers. “… about three inches long. You’re only a little bit shorter than average. Nothing to worry about.”
“It’s the smallest in my grade.”
“But it’s thick, so it’s perfect. So long as it’s big enough to pee with, size doesn’t matter.”
Emphatically, Jason rolled his eyes. “So with that formula; how big should yours be?”
Madison’s erection reacted powerfully, bulging into his bath robe. “Way bigger than yours. I’m 45.”
Jason counted back and forth on his fingers. He looked up cheekily. “So between nine and ten inches huh?”
Madison grinned. It was impossible not to love a kid with a sense of humor like that. “I wish.”
“Can I see it… your thing?” Jason peeped, staring at his father’s middle.
“You want to see what exactly?” Madison teased.
“Um, you know… your… penis?”
“What are you ashamed about?”
Jason shrugged, his expression enigmatic
“Then, say you want to see my cock.”
Jason looked down dumbly. “You won’t get mad at me if I use bad words?”
“If you’re old enough to know bad words, you’re old enough to say them.”
“So can I see it…your…?”
“… cock.”
Jason smirked back. “Can I see your penis? Please.”
With a casual gesture Madison pulled the side of his robe, exposing his engorged organ.
“Wow!” Jason gaped. “You’re huge!”
Madison quickly rearranged the front of his robe. A quick peek at Jason confirmed his worst fear. A single glance had aroused the boy so much that his penis pointed at the ceiling. He had a tiny swollen glans plopped on the end of a stubby shaft. He made himself go into the bedroom. He wouldn’t have been able to look away otherwise.
“I better find you something to wear. We don’t want Officer Harrison getting the wrong idea,” he said over his shoulder. “How about your Simba jacket?”
He liked that jacket, even though it was two sizes too large for Jason. It was pink and blue nylon, the sort of thing that only girls and gay boys wore. It suited Jason; the lion cub on the back looked particularly smug.
“You put it in the washer, remember?” Jason called out.
Officer Harrison had found it upstairs in the carriage house. Jason insisted on wearing it over the cassock even though it smelled foul, like a swimming pool; and it was stiff as if starched. The cassock went in the trash as soon as he got in the shower.
Madison searched through his closet. His thoughts centered on Jason, his purplish penis pointing up. At Jason’s age, he’d been the envy of the fourth grade with a four- and-a-quarter inch long penis. At just over half the length, his son wasn’t a stud; however, Jason Junior was the same shape as John Junior. His son’s penis was straight and squat, inordinately thick for its length, DNA patently obvious.
He discarded fuzzy sweaters, permanently-stained jerseys, t-shirts from long-ago vacations, the ‘Genius’ shirt he’d received when he attended the 21st Century Innovators Conference; not one of them worthy of Jason. On a whim, he took his pink oxford shirt from his hanger. It was the most expensive shirt he owned, hand-tailored cotton that felt like silk, with buttons of glass from Ancient Rome. He’d worn it the day his problems started. With only memories remaining, and a completely unexpected future beckoning, he hurried back to Jason.
As soon as his father reappeared, Jason shrugged off the towel. He didn’t need to look down to know nothing had changed. His penis remained utterly rigid. Sometimes, it would be like that for hours, as if there was something wrong with him. It didn’t matter that his penis was the smallest in the fourth grade of C. K. Mason Elementary School, he still wanted his father to see it.
Madison gazed at his son, breathing slow and deep, silently taking in the slender nude body, everything displayed for him to see so there were no secrets left. He was on the brink of saying ‘you’re beautiful,’ but ‘beautiful’ didn’t come close.
“That thing ever go down?” he teased.
“It does when I pee,” Jason said with a straight face, or maybe he wasn’t being funny.
He could feel invigorating heat spreading out from his center, charging his senses. Unable to stop himself, he gave his stubby stalk a playful flip. It was enough to make his erection throb and strain upward. The strange thing was that letting his father look at his bare body made him hungry; so hungry he could taste it on his tongue. Whatever ‘it’ was, it was thick and hot, and far creamier than the New England Clam Chowder Officer that Officer Harrison was cooking at that very moment in the kitchen.
Without Jason’s stepfather’s constant chastisement to cleanse himself of sin with lye soap, the mark around his navel had reclaimed its exquisite though bizarre beauty. No longer was his body besmirched by an amorphous scarlet birthmark that was disturbing, if not outright shocking to anyone who saw him stripped to the waist. Instead, a pinkish circle and arrow adorned the center of his body. Like the rest of him, it was impeccable and precisely defined. The boy was unblemished, not even a freckle dared defile the boy-god.
“I looked it up on the Internet. It’s the symbol of Uranus,” Jason said, his voice soft yet fearful of rejection.
Madison nodded, as nervous as his son. He knelt to get a closer look. His first impression was a tattoo, yet up close, it was obvious there was no pigment under the skin. It was just *there*.
“How did you get it?”
Jason shivered. “It kind of appeared one night…”
Madison sensed the half-truth and chose not to pursue it. “It’s beautiful, like the rest of you.”
“You can hardly see it most of the time, or it’s pink, like that.” He pointed at the shirt in his father’s hand.
Suddenly, Madison saw the similarity, not with his shirt, but between Jason’s stiff penis and the arrow-mark on his belly. Size, shape, and orientation were all the same; it was a personalized phallic symbol. The circle around his navel, he wasn’t so sure about. If it was supposed to symbolize testicles, it had nothing to do with Jason. Instead of a plump little hemisphere, there was a flaccid fold, his balls so tiny they were almost undetectable. It should’ve bothered him more than it did.
“Is it getting redder?”
Jason looked down too. “Sometimes it gets dark… kinda like crimson …”
He was so embarrassed; he didn’t want to draw even more attention to his penis. It was doing a fine job all by itself, his dad staring at it with unwavering eyes.
“Yep, definitely changing color.” Madison wondered if he’d said the wrong thing.
Jason’s frown was only momentary. He looked up. “The color is always the same as the head of my thing… my dick. Creepy, huh?”
“So pale pink if you’re limp, magenta if you’re rigid; how cool is that?”
For the first time in nearly three years, Jason smiled about it. His stepfather hated it, and treated him despicably because of it. He always made sure his navel was covered, though he sensed it had a special purpose.
“What’s cool about it?”
“Well, I’ll know if you’re horny even if you have your pants on,” Madison chuckled. “Plus I’ll be able to spot you in the pool.”
Jason rolled his eyes. He was eight when he’d noticed it also changed in intensity, which seemed to have more to do with his mood at the time. It made no sense that his bellybutton had anything to do with his feelings.
“Does it bother you, having Uranus on your tummy? Uranus usually isn’t that obvious.”
Though still unable to laugh, Jason finally shared a real smile. “Where’s Uranus?”
“You can see it at the crack of boo-tock.”
Jason’s eyes were bright with mirth as boyish amusement overcame the grim guard he’d erected. Without warning, his tummy felt warm as a gentle heat spread through his slim abdomen. It made his bottom itch, never more than it did at that moment. He didn’t know what caused it, only that the itch quickly turned into an ache if he as much as touched his opening. Now, just thinking about his father touching him there made the heat greater, the itch more concentrated.
“I always knew you’d be funny,” he murmured. The words seemed to come out of his center, his belly hot and hard and quivery.
“I always knew you’d be special,” Madison teased back.
Something began to throb deep inside JAson, insistent, commanding, requiring fulfillment. He shuddered, expecting punishment. His stepfather always punished him when he was like that.
“You okay?”
“It hurts here.” He jabbed his finger at his belly, or perhaps lower down.
Madison sensed as much as saw his son become increasingly skittish as his arousal intensified. The symbol was now magenta, not fuchsia, and his son’s penis strained outward and upward, the little glans so engorged it seemed ready to burst. It excited him so much that he ached inside. He had to touch it.
So close to Jason, he could smell soap-fragrance, and a scent that he couldn’t quite place. It was sweet, like aromatic sandalwood, warm and mysterious, smooth and seductive. It was a siren’ call to touch his son’s slender young body, to possess him completely. He inhaled deeply, emptying his mind until the only thoughts he had were of Jason. His hand reached out. The tip of one finger dared brush the short length of Jason’s penis. It was hot, far hotter than normal body temperature. Jason trembled. His penis jerked expectantly.
“Mmmm.”
Jason’s soft sigh lingered between them. His little chest rose and fell with each dreamy breath, his smile enigmatic, his eyes distant as if seeing something for the very first time. He’d never felt this close to anyone, not even his mother. He needed his father to hug him so tightly that their bodies would actually merge. That way, they could never be parted.
Unknown to either of them, the insidious scent had a potent aphrodisiac quality. It was decadent and demanding, and enticing, yet somehow Madison resisted the carnal urge that surged through his loins. On wobbly knees, he held out his shirt so Jason could slip his arms through the sleeves. It took all of his willpower to cover Jason’s immaculate body, though he made it last as long as possible. Finally, he straightened the shirt so it hung down, covering his son’s stubborn spike, his errant finger tingling insistently, glowing hot.
“Definitely darker,” he muttered, of the mind he was witnessing a miracle.
Saliva pooled in his mouth, his palate already tasting boy-dick. He swallowed and quickly stood up again, pretending to tidy the vanity until Jason turned away. Only then did he offer a silent exaltation, his son’s body so stunning that actual words failed him. Best of all was his bottom, barely veiled under the shirt. His son’s buttocks were small and round, seeming plump without being chubby. The obvious chasm tested his protective instinct.
Unaware, sensual Jason posed before the bathroom mirror, feigning interest in how he looked in his father’s shirt. It was so big it looked ridiculous on him; however, his only thought was how his dad had touched his penis. That first caress of rigid boyhood was tender, full of love and affection, so gentle that it made him feel humble. Instantly, he’d needed more than a single feathery finger. He needed his father to grasp his erection and exert his natural right to that part of him.
Gradually, he became aware that his father’s shirt enhanced as much as concealed him. The shirt smelled musky like his dad, and it was soft and sleek, and although he didn’t feel quite so exposed, he was never more aware of his body. The longer he looked into the mirror, the more he liked seeing it on himself, though he would have to roll up the sleeves at least halfway in order to use his hands.
For the first time, he noticed his father’s reflection. It was like seeing him through different eyes, not simply reversed, actually seeing the person inside the body. His father stared at him, just as he stared back. Something clicked inside Jason. This man was special, destined to be far more important to him than merely being his father. It made him tremble.
‘He will love you just as you will love him.’
Hearing the Voice, Jason turned and looked up at his dad. “What are you looking at?”
Madison smiled, on the verge of admitting he was in love with his son. “That shirt looks a lot better on you than it does on me.”
In an instant, Jason realized what he saw in the mirror was lust, not the wicked lust of his stepfather, but a good lust, an overpowering yearning to make love to him. He hesitated to fasten the buttons on the shirt, shrugging his shoulders to open the front so his father could gorge on his bare wiry body. He wanted his father to see him down there, the same place where his stepfather concentrated his hatred.
“I like wearing it,” he said, feeling strangely relieved that his father smiled back. Everything was going just as he dreamed it would. His stepfather would’ve screamed at him long before now. He tilted his head, now curious. “May I have it?”
Of course, his father said ‘yes.’
“I love you, Dad.”
Years after, Madison would always remember that moment whenever he saw Jason wearing his pink oxford shirt, though at the time, all he’d been able to think about was that his son hadn’t actually said it. The words just popped into his head.
“I love you too,” he mumbled as he stared at his son, humbled before his boy-god.
How quickly it happened, one moment he was safe, though infatuated by a beautiful boy. An instant later, a smell had seduced him. Then, those magical words changed everything.
Unable to stop himself, he reached out and touched his son’s erect penis. A single caress was all it took to topple him into a yawning gorge of incestuous lust. He dared stroke from taut balls to bulging knob, drawing his fingers along silky moist skin. Amidst the placid adoration of father and son, the iron fist of debauchery struck hard. It took all his self-control not to sodomize Jason, still damp from his shower.
“Better do up the buttons, keep you from getting cold,” he muttered, already reaching for the front of the shirt.
He fumbled with each button, as if finding an excuse to touch Jason again. There were two buttons remaining when he resorted to tickling. Jason reacted like any ticklish ten-year-old, giggling and wriggling as his dad attacked armpits. He never expected his crotch was the real target, though a sly smirk should’ve warned him. Madison stuck his hand under the shirt tail and flipped boy-dick.
Jason jumped back. “Yeow!” He clasped both hands over his front and glared back.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to injure Mr. Weenie.”
“You didn’t. He didn’t expect it, that’s all!”
“I better find you something to wear underneath or Officer Harrison will be looking at your privates. You think you can fit into a pair of my underpants?”
Jason grinned back. “No way. I’ll be careful he doesn’t see me down there, okay?”
“Hmmmm. How about…” Madison tugged on a cuff, working his way up the shirtsleeve to Jason’s hand. “… I tie this around your cock? That way you can play with it and no one will see you.”
“I don’t *play* with it!”
“You must be the only boy in America who doesn’t!”
Jason leaned to whisper. “Sometimes I do when I’m lying in bed.”
“Whew! I was worried for a moment.” Madison gave his son’s stiff little penis a playful squeeze. “It’s be a shame to waste this bad boy, but he’ll get suspicious if we spend too long in here.”
He rolled up the shirtsleeve, exposing Jason’s bony hand and thin little fingers; then a slim shapely arm and a knobby elbow. The boy was born to tan easily, his skin already a delicious almond hue. He stopped rolling a few inches from Jason’s shoulder and playfully squashed upper arm muscle. It was small and spongy, becoming firm as Jason tensed.
“You lift weights, right?”
Jason grinned and shook his head.
Unable to stop himself, Madison squeezed bicep again, his other hand feeling Jason’s lean thigh through the shirt. It was all muscle and tendon.
“You’re a strong little dude.” His hand inched up Jason’s lithe thigh, headed towards the little pup-tent in the front of the shirt. Despite a relentless urge, he stopped short of the projecting penis, breathing deeply. “How about you help Officer Harrison prepare dinner while I take a shower?” he muttered, fully aware that if Jason remained in the bathroom he’d soon surrender to lust.
With the other shirtsleeve rolled up, a reluctant and frustrated Jason headed off. He was so grim-faced, Madison almost laughed. He recognized the signs from his own youth. Jason wanted everything he had to offer; and then there were the things that they’d invent together.
With a thrilling future to look forward to, he stood under his own scalding shower for ten invigorating minutes. He felt like he’d been caught in a herd of dumb bovines, a terrifying endless stampede that brought him very close to death. There were bruises all over him, though a bath robe would cover everything except the contusions on his face.
After his shower, he ate his fill of New England clam chowder and hot buttered wheat toast, which improved his disposition considerably, though he kept thinking it wasn’t the food as much as it was having Jason next to him. Everything began and ended with Jason. Every time he glanced at the boy, he caught Jason peeking back at him. Surely, Harrison noticed, yet the man went through two plates of chowder, babbling about his highway patrol incidents.
By the time Madison consumed his fifth slice of toast, he’d also imbibed three glasses of Merlot, largely due to Jason, which was why he was now stretched out on his couch, his mind endlessly replaying Jason fresh from the shower, watching him during dinner, holding his hand during that brief ride in Harrison’s police car to his apartment...
He could hear Office Harrison in the kitchen, talking to Jason, though not about what happened to him, anything but that. After much cajoling, he’d gotten Harrison to put off interrogation, postponing police procedure until they could speak to Detective Burton on the telephone. However, Burton was in New Orleans at his son’s soccer tournament, and wasn’t answering his cellphone. Harrison had called every half hour and left messages each time.
His beautiful son was now the center of his existence. He was conscientious, like a dutiful puppy bringing him things even if he hadn’t asked for them. And he was eager; and willing; and cheerful; and…. Madison smiled—he was thinking ‘perfect.’ Absolutely, utterly, stunningly perfect, no doubt about it.
“I’m in love with my son,” he whispered, smiling slightly. “Jason Tyler Thorne… Jason Tyler Madison… Hmm…. I like the sound of that… I wonder if he’ll change his name.”
Madison needed sleep. He closed his eyes and made his mind switch from naked Jason in the bathroom to counting that same herd of cattle on their way to the slaughterhouse. His head verged on throbbing, as if a migraine was in the offing, though he hadn’t had one since he was Jason’s age. The attacks stopped when Randolph entered his life. Randolph would sit by him, muttering ancient tales and gently rubbing his temples until the blinding flashes went away. More than anything, Madison was sure that was what changed his mother’s mind; that and seeing them play chess together. By the time he was truly a loved boy, she turned a blind eye to what she called ‘shenanigans.’
He stirred, rolled onto his back and stared up at the dark blue ceiling. He stroked faded interlocking stars on a fleecy quilt, each star like a memory of growing up. On the most important night of his life, he’d taken that quilt from his little twin bed. Except for the soft rustle of corn stalks and the chirp of crickets, it was like looking up at the night sky. He’d lost his virginity on his quilt, honest and shameless, looking up at his man gazing down at him. Randolph was like a god with the moonlight making a silvery halo around him. Sometimes, if he concentrated, he could still feel the first firm thrust that breeched his innocence.
Then, Randolph forced his penis deep inside him. He remembered how full he had been; his little lithe body stretched taut around Randolph’s fiery tumescence. It didn’t hurt like he expected. Most he felt content, and loved. When Randolph moved, he moved, and the thing inside him touched places that made him tremble and mutter ‘I love you.’ It only got better. He soon squealed in ecstasy, bucking wildly through an orgasm that seemed endless. That was when Randolph truly claimed him as his boy lover. It had changed him forever.
It wasn’t long after their first fuck in the cornfield, just two days, when he groaned and gasped, and begged for more. He remembered how easy it was after the discomfort went away, how he hungered for Randolph to be inside him, him writhing underneath or squatting above, shivery all over. Both man and boy were infatuated with each other, and enraptured with the physical act of sexual intercourse. Each powerful thrust made him tremble, squeaking lusty ‘ohs’ and ‘ahs’, and begging for ‘more’ until Randolph’s pulsing geyser ended their lovemaking. Afterwards, they stayed joined together, lying like spoons in a drawer as Randolph called it. He’d never been so happy. Not until now. Soon, he would do the same things with Jason, perhaps on the very same quilt…
He could hear them in the kitchen. Officer Harrison teased Jason ruthlessly, not about anything important, just having fun and trying to get the boy to relax. No longer too nervous to speak, Jason squeaked a few words about something that Harrison had just said.
“Smart little brat aren’t you?”
“Clams are NOT d-dolphin b-boogers.”
Though his father didn’t know, Jason’s awkward giggle was the first in three years.
“Whack him on the butt if he misbehaves,” Madison called out. He was thinking bare butt, pale and smooth, and rubbery.
Suddenly, Jason giggled again. It was music to Madison’s ears, tinkling and playful. It made him think of plucking notes from Randolph’s lyre. Plucking and fucking; there were times when that was all he did for hours on end… His ass ached until he got used to it. Then, he couldn’t get enough.
“Is there anything you don’t know?” Harrison chided.
“Some things must always be mysteries.”
Madison smiled at his son’s answer. A long time ago, he’d concluded the opening address at the 23rd Max Planck Memorial Conference that even with a Theory of Everything, mysteries must remain. Jason also hadn’t stuttered. It made him think his son had been speaking directly to him.
By then, the ache in his groin had diminished enough that he’d discarded the ice-pack, though every time he saw Jason, the ache down there returned with a vengeance. His son was a mystery… absolutely perfect… He wanted vengeance for what they’d done to Jason. It didn’t end with Peter Dodge… There were other men. He’d seen recognition in their eyes, bitter hatred for him and Jason… They would never be safe with men like that still alive. He couldn’t stop thinking that he needed to tell Jason something… It was important… Except he was so tired, so very tired…
Randolph also had a pan flute, and a tambourine. By the end of the summer, he’d taught his young lover to play them in the ancient way… Music was mathematics and young John Madison excelled at both. Boys of Ancient Thera played the lyre to woo their adult lovers with the charm of their unbroken voices. Though he enjoyed plucking the love ballads of Apollo, singing wasn’t his forte… On the other hand, the pan flute seduced with haunting melodies of mysterious glades and grottos, where music had but one purpose. And the tambourine? It was the instrument of dance. Boys used it to arouse and simulate coupling, sylphlike as they swirled shimmering silk through smoky incense.
Half dreaming, Madison wondered if Jason could sing. A single glance was enough to know that he would make an admirable dancer. His son had hair like Apollo, though it was stubble on his perfectly shaped head. When his hair grew out again it would be curly, and shiny, and bright gold like the sun. His boy-god was beautiful, radiant, and powerful, with the secret of unlimited energy locked inside him… But why had they shaved him? Madison was pondering that when he finally sank into the unwelcome nightmare of his son’s imprisonment.
+++++
“Mice eat more than you do. I’m talking skinny mice, not fat mice,” Harrison teased.
Jason seemed not to notice. He stood on tiptoe to wash their dinner dishes by hand, carefully rinsing them, and stacking them on the rack. There was a dishwasher in Madison’s second-floor apartment; however, he’d never used one. He felt proud; all he’d ever done before was wipe the dishes dry. Besides, he needed to keep busy to keep from worrying. His mother always washed dishes when his stepfather was in a bad mood.
Every few seconds, he looked over his shoulder, trying to see into the living room. Wherever he looked, he saw signs of his father, every breath brought his manly scent, everything he touched carried his warmth. However, it wasn’t enough. He needed his father beside him… inside him…
“You’re small for your age,” Harrison rambled. “Being a midget’s not a bad thing though; you could be a jockey when you grow up. I suppose I should say ‘size impaired’, shouldn’t I? That’s what they teach at the police academy, so we don’t offend anyone.”
Jason struggled to reach the bottom of the sink to check for cutlery, though he could account for three spoons, three knifes, a serving ladle, and two wooden spoons. He brought his hand to his mouth, smearing soap on his lips before he licked his finger. He tasted his father on the tip of his tongue. Was it even possible? His father had held his hand from the carriage house all the way to the car. That was hours ago. He blinked at the memory.
Jason was moments from crying when he went back to washing his father’s wine glass. It made his hand tremble, not like the other wine glass that Officer Harrison had drank from.
Unstoppable, Harrison continued, though his thoughts were elsewhere. “I bet the average cockroach eats more than you. You get many where you’re from?”
Harrison detected a slight shrug. He’d had attended enough car wrecks to recognize the signs of shock, detachment, clammy skin, nervousness, wandering eyes.
Suddenly, he realized the boy wasn’t just good-looking; he was beautiful. However, he wasn’t beautiful like Sandra Bellingham, soon-to-be Sandra Harrison, who was a cardiac nurse at Barnes Jewish Hospital; he was drop-dead gorgeous. His next thought took him completely by surprise. He told himself to look away, yet he couldn’t. He told himself the kid was troubled and needed help, not depraved ogling by a nearly married man. He wasn’t like *that*!
He had to stop staring, yet he couldn’t. Jason captivated him, his pale blue eyes, his cupid lips, his flawless complexion... He had such perfect little hands with slender fingers and tiny fingernails, and skinny wrists that stuck out from his pink oxford shirt.
“I left a cookie out a few days ago and they carried it off.”
He knew he sounded like an idiot, yet he didn’t care. He had to keep the kid talking, focused on anything except the cause of his trauma, let him know everything was okay, not mentally undress him. All he wanted was to see the beautiful boy naked, if only for a second.
“Not even a crumb left behind. You think cockroaches would be good to eat if they eat cookies?”
Finally, Jason ventured a momentary smile. He’d never been happier than when he served his dad wine at dinner. He only been trying to help because his dad was too weak, yet all of a sudden there was order and purpose in his life. Afterwards, he stood to the right and slightly behind his father’s chair, wine carafe at the ready.
“I n-never ate one,” he stuttered. He hated when he stuttered, though it stopped when he was close to his father.
“Me neither. How about worms? Lots of kids eat worms. I ate one when I was five. My little brother was a worm-glutton. He’s a fireman now. He probably eats fireflies. You think that would make his belly glow?”
Jason glanced down uncomfortably. If Officer Harrison looked down all he would see were his bare legs and feet. His father’s pink oxford shirt covered him down almost to his knees, which meant his belly was hidden. He drew close to the sink so that Harrison couldn’t see him rub at his navel. It felt good to put his fingertip in the tiny depression. Unconsciously, his finger circled around and up the arrow, tracing the sacred sign of Uranus.
“You okay?” Harrison asked, taking a break from mindless prattle, anything to keep from thinking thoughts that him tremble.
Jason nodded, quickly putting his hand back in the sink to find unwashed cutlery. His mind was in the living room, standing guard over his slumbering father.
“If you’re still hungry, I bet we could find some cookies,” Harrison said, vaguely aware that he’d said something that bothered the kid.
Everything about the boy bothered him, from his intensity to his curious expressions, to his exceptional good looks. Beautiful didn’t come close to describing Jason. Even worse, the simplest gesture thrilled him, whether rinsing off a plate, or merely looking around to see if he’d washed everything. No doubt about it; the boy was… sexy.
Before he could stop himself, he’d mouthed, ‘So fucking sexy!’
He reddened when he felt the tautness growing in his pants. He had a girlfriend. Sexy Sandra. They had sex every other weekend when their work schedules aligned. He was straight; he’d never touched another male; but why was he so enchanted by a pretty little boy?
“You got a favorite cookie? Mine’s chocolate crème wafers,” he said, increasingly nervous, yet unable to stop looking at Jason.
Jason squeegeed dish foam from his hands. Harrison couldn’t believe his eyes. It looked like semen. Lots of semen. His semen. Like he’d jacked off in the kid’s cupped hands. He could almost hear Jason’s sweet voice; ‘Please Sir, may I have some more?’ Sandra tolerated the stuff when it landed on her.
“You want me to look for some cookies to snack on afterwards,” Harrison offered, feeling weak at the knees. He something else in mind for the boy to ‘snack on,’ something Sandra would never do. She even made him wash it before it went in her vagina.
“Not r-really.”
Jason was an icon for mental masturbation. Every sensual movement, every sultry glance contradicted his seeming innocence. He was dreamy, yet deep in concentration, which made Harrison’s dilemma that much worse. His smile, like everything else about him, was perplexing. One thing was clear; he was every bit as intelligent as the man asleep on the couch, scary smart, naturally intuitive, perceptually conscious of everything around him, and as nervous as a skittish cow in a thunderstorm. It was a creepy combination for a highway patrol cop.
“You sure?”
“No thank y-you.”
“No point in starving yourself.”
From behind, the boy had a butt to die for. Nothing like Sandra’s curvaceous rear, though it was equally curvaceous. It was pluperfect, not in the grammatical sense. It was tight and round, and tiny; impossibly small at first glance. He almost wanted to pull Jason into his embrace and feel the slender body next to his, rub up against his butt and ponder other possibilities.
“I never eat m-much.”
Jason had consumed less than a half-cup of New England clam chowder and a few tiny cheesy crackers. Each cracker made him feel squeamish. The chowder was thick and creamy white, and delicious, though it wasn’t what he wanted. He ate it anyway.
Harrison looked him over with weakening resolve. “You look healthy enough, I must say.”
Despite weeks in captivity, Jason remained fit. He had a taut, lithe body, and he moved with cat-like grace.
“That shower you took worked miracles.” For some reason, Harrison felt sheepish when he looked at the kid.
“W-was I d-dirty?”
“No, not at all. You look different.”
“H-how?”
Jason’s pale skin was now almond-hued, flawless and smooth where the shirt didn’t cover. Harrison suddenly found himself contemplating what he was like underneath. He had to be completely hairless, and his dick, that would be puny because there was next nothing showing in front. His eyes seemed brighter too, more like his dad’s.
Humbled by boyish beauty and an insistent impulse to peek under the shirt, Harrison stumbled on. “Your hair wasn’t that long.”
Jason rubbed his fingers through bristles, a full half-inch longer since he’d stepped from the shower. “I must’ve used magic shampoo.”
“How about ice-cream for dessert?” Harrison hurried over to the refrigerator and looked in the freezer, anything to void his thoughts. He shoved frozen peas aside while he gorged his mind with wicked thoughts. “He’s got a lifetime supply of frozen shit, zero ice-cream. I could go buy some if you want?”
Jason nodded eagerly. Not that he wanted ice-cream; he wanted the man gone, if only for a few minutes.
“You got a favorite, Sunshine?” Debauchery raised its head and looked at Jason.
“Um…”
He was about to say ‘it doesn’t matter’ when he picked up on Harrison’s captivated gaze. The policeman stared at him, besotted, smitten, love-sick, and flabbergasted that a boy could commandeer his heterosexual urge.
“Caramel cream with chocolate chip.” He didn’t even know if it existed.
“Caramel cream with chocolate chip! I might be gone a while.”
Jason followed the utterly infatuated Harrison to the front door and locked it after he left. When he turned around, he was licking his lips. He started towards the couch, each step quicker than the last, breathing fast and shallow as the urge blossomed inside him. He was trembling when he knelt down next to his father, his hands shaking, his heart thundering as he leaned closer. Without knowing, he drew down the same faded quilt that his father once used in a cornfield. Hunger gnawed despite his thumb poking hard into his belly button.
The Great God echoed through his head. ‘The more you go without, the more you will need.’
Jason wasn’t in the mood for Olympian riddles. “Whatever!”
‘Think twice before you use *that* tone of voice with me, little boy!’
Jason looked around. This time the Voice seemed to come from behind him, yet no one was there. He rubbed his knuckles into his navel. It ached inside his belly, worse than ever. An invisible hand touched his cheek and he cringed.
‘You haven’t consummated, and you’re already changing. You’re frightened, aren’t you?’
Jason started to shake, backing away, silently praying his father would wake up.
‘No wonder you’re starving. You’ll feel better when you’ve tasted ambrosia.’
“Whatever that is.”
When He laughed, the windows rattled. ‘You are a god among boys, my beautiful Catamite. Your father will enjoy being your lover and master.’
Jason heard only ‘lover and master’ and a little quiver went through him. It didn’t go unnoticed.
‘I’ve sparked your interest now, haven’t I? The sooner you couple, the better.’
Jason frowned. “Couple? Like a train?”
‘Let me spell it out. He must plant his seed in your rectum sanctorum before you sleep.’
“In my what?”
‘Your father will know how. He was trained by the master when he was your age. However, the first time you must lead by example.’
“What example?”
‘I don’t give directions, boy! Consummate your love and the fire of desire will reward both of you. Don’t, and your Brothers will forge the passion of immortality on the altar of passive lust.’
“I don’t have any brothers.”
‘Don’t you know anything, Catamite? I suppose not, growing up in the Bible Belt.’
“Please tell me what I should do?” Jason whispered. He knelt beside the couch, his right hand unconsciously extending until his fingers touched his father’s robe.
‘What do you want to do, Jason?’
Jason remembered what he’d done with his friend, Danny, on the last day of summer. “I can’t say.”
“Spit it out, though catamites never do.”
“I guess… um… I want to put his thing in my mouth,” he mumbled.
‘Thing?’ the Voice boomed. ‘Boy-gods don’t say ‘thing’!”
“… His cock. I want to suck his cock.”
‘Then, suckle like a foal on the teat, boy. What are you waiting for?’
“He’s asleep…”
Yet, Jason’s fingers took hold of the edge of the robe and lifted it back. His nostrils flared, seeking a trace of the musky scent he intuitively knew should be there. Instead, he smelled soap. He didn’t want freshly washed skin. He needed the smell of a man, raw and powerful, and primal. Nonetheless, his hand quivered.
‘Would you rather Master Randolph instruct you?’
“Who?” Jason peeped.
By the gods, his father’s penis was huge. It was thick, neither curved like Priapus’ permanent horn, nor barbed like a satyr. It was sleek not veiny. He could feel its heat.
‘He will prepare you to enter the Temple, though only after you crave the Greek way. The last thing I need is a virtuous Catamite.’
“What’s virtuous mean?” If he dared move his fingers even slightly, he would touch his father’s erection.
‘If Hera had her way, you would be unsullied by me, if not all men. Far better that all of you are promiscuous. The more you bond with other men and boys, the stronger the bonds of Brotherhood.’
Jason’s fingers hovered a half-inch above his father’s tumescent shaft. Each upward quiver made him bolder. He had an irresistible need to touch it, yet every time his finger drew nearer it tingled.
‘Try to touch his prick; you’ll see what I mean.’
Jason tried. His finger moved slightly before an invisible force pushed back. “It’s like I’ve got a really bad case of pins and needles.”
‘*That* is the legacy of two thousand years of fucking women! They are all jealous bitches! Focus your body and mind on what you desire, Seventh Catamite, and nothing can hold you back. You alone can restore the Brotherhood.’
Jason concentrated, furrowing his brow as he strove to touch what he wanted more than anything else in his life.
‘There is no limit to the power of my beautiful Catamite. You can transform any man or boy into a groveling cur or a randy stallion with a single caress,’ the Voice said in his ear. ‘Do what you desire, boy.’
Suddenly, Jason’s finger brushed his father’s swollen cock. It was reassuring, inspiring, determining.
‘You feel the change, the throbbing inside your belly, the glow spreading out, the ache in your crotch, the twitch in your hungry little ass.’
Jason grasped his father’s erection in a shaky hand. “You’re making me do this… I feel weird all over.”
‘You’re in love, boy; the way I meant love to be. You must consummate with your father as soon as he wakes!’
Jason’s eyes went wide, not about to let go now that he finally held his man’s cock. “You want me to do it with him?”
‘DO IT?’ The Great God exhaled. ‘Your father must fuck you senseless, the same way I fucked Ganymede! For two thousand years, men and boys will sing about how he deflowered your pretty little ass, and how you pleaded for more!’
“You sure you got the right kid?”
‘Oh, you’re definitely *special*. Save the best until last! Whose idea was that anyway? Zephyr’s, if I’m not mistaken. You will ignite inspirational lust, blah! Talk about a fart in still air! I need a catamite who’s a lion-cub. Instead, I get a kitten.’
Jason shrugged meekly.
‘What happened to the boy who stood up to the swine in the barn and said ‘may the force be with me’ when he shoved his holy orb up your ass?’
“I never wanted him to do it. I hated him!” Jason snarled.
‘You wanted to DO IT!’
Jason shook his head, back and forth, his silence accepting the truth of it.
“There is no shame in the truth. Men will couple with their sons because of what you do tonight.”
“I hated when he touched me.”
“The High Priests of Aquarius will teach that your stepfather began your transformation, although that was never his intention.’
He looked down at his real father. “I couldn’t help it,” he whispered.
Immortal breath filled Jason’s small lungs before he could speak. Deep in his virginal subconscious, desire grew instantly. Shameless lust took control; surging through his veins and making him tremble. He licked his lips.
“You going to watch us?”
‘You’re lucky the whole Brotherhood isn’t watching.’ After a moment, He added, ‘With your inexperience, it is better your first time together begins as a dream.’
“Um, is it okay if I suck him first?”
“Quench your thirst from his fountain by all means, but don’t take too long. And remember, the less you take in your mouth, the stronger your other desire.’
“What other desire?”
‘Don’t you listen? Master Randolph trained him; trust me, he’ll know all about your other desire.’
“Um… Is there a way I should do it? I mean… Um… How do I fit his dick in my mouth?” Jason smiled at the thought.
Again, the windows rattled with mirth. ‘Surely, the Seventh Catamite can do what comes naturally to every boy.’
“I thought my stepdad had a big one…”
He’d seen it from the attic window, thirty feet above. Surely, his stepfather thought he was alone as he glanced around. Satisfied he wouldn’t be disturbed, he unbuttoned the front of his overalls. From the pocket he pulled his five-year-old daughter’s violet panties, the frilly ones with baby Jesus cartoons printed on the cloth. He sniffed long and deep, clutching his engorged sex organ, and then he sinned like Onan, the very same thing that he punished Jason for doing. His erection was far bigger than Jason ever imagined, though he’d thought about it every time he saw the bulge grow in the crotch of his stepfather’s overalls. It was always there when he’d been hoisted, naked and sexually aroused, on the Pillar of Deceits.
‘It’ll breach your ass the same as mine breached Ganymede’s,’ the Great God jested. ‘Then, you’ll be his lion cub forever.’
Madison’s erection was huge, nearly as long, and as thick as the middle of Jason’s forearm. Still, he licked his lips lasciviously.
“He’s so big…”
‘Open wide and taste him, little boy.’
Jason’s giggles were musical tinkles. He hovered over Madison, breathing moist heat, his tongue hanging out as if tasting. Ever so slowly, his head lowered the final two inches. He licked near the middle, and quivered. Already highly stimulated, his little body responded powerfully. He gasped, eyes closing tightly, slurping along the man’s hot hard shaft. He shuddered and gasped again, nuzzling his cheek against the slippery skin, smearing his spit on his face. He drew back, eyes opening and wild. Raging desire conquered the last of his innocence. Saliva flowed. He needed to take it all the way to the back of his mouth. Somehow, he resisted, kissing and licking with abandon, torturing himself by staying away from the swollen crimson glans.
When he finally relented, he licked slimy juice from the tip. In a moment of anguish, his hunger dissipated. A moment later, it returned, ever more concentrated, more demanding. Jason sucked on the glans urgently, seeking the purified essence of the man who he loved. After a concerted effort, he received a second oozing droplet. He swallowed it, brutally squeezing the man’s penis to extract more.
‘Determined little lion cub, aren’t you?’
Jason ignored the Voice. What danced before him was so fascinating he couldn’t think of anything else. It was the center of his existence. It was intoxicating to contemplate what else he might do with it. He peered at the meatus. It was shiny wet inside the slit. He jammed the tip of his tongue into the opening, nipped behind the glans with his teeth, and used his fist to squeeze the shaft. A tiny droplet touched his palate and he shivered with delight.
‘There is plenty more where that came from, if you don’t bite it off.’
“I’m NOT going to bite it off!”
‘Pleasure him and you will nourish yourself.’
“HOW?”
‘Oh my, you are anxious, aren’t you?’
Jason squeezed the shaft again, as hard as he could. This time, not even a hint of wetness formed in the gaping tiny mouth.
The Great God growled. ‘Lips and tongue will entice it better than your nasty little fingers.’
Jason nibbled on the very end of his father’s huge penis, now wriggling the tip of his tongue into the opening. With his thoughts finally focused, he managed to coax out a third droplet, and two more after that. He was breathing hard when he lifted his head.
“Ambrosia, huh?” He smacked his lips. “It’s yummy.”
‘You are a god among boys. You must never defile a penis with your hands. That is what mortals do. Divine love requires complete union.’
He smiled. “How am I supposed to get it out without touching it?”
‘Your fingers are tolerable, though meager instruments for love. Until you know what to do with your ass, use your mouth to take him inside you. Put your lips over the helmet and suck it out. Watch your teeth.’
Jason complied, his mouth stretched wide. He didn’t think it would fit inside his mouth, yet it did. Suddenly, it seemed like the most natural thing in the world. It made him hum with happiness, a poignant tune devised to match his mood.
‘Now with your tongue, find the vale on the underside. Flick your tongue; that is what catamites do to please men.’
Jason tapped with his tongue, wobbling it back and forth, and curling the tip into the groove. He didn’t even suck and his father’s juice oozed onto his palate, down his throat. His humming grew louder, his whole body vibrating, poignancy exchanged for erotic purring. When he finally stopped to catch his breath, he was shaking like a frightened fawn.
Madison awoke to the most peculiar sensation. It was spongy wet, and burning hot, firm alternating with soft, playful prods mixed up with nibbles, pulling up, pushing down, and humming. The vibrating hum was the nicest part of all. It was a happy contented sound.
“Mmmmmmmmmm…. Mmmmmmmmm…. Mmmmmmmmm…. Mmmmmmmm...”
The humming faded. Something wriggly and wet dragged along the underside of his penis, from his balls all the way to the tip, which was suddenly encased in spongy wet heat.
“Mmmmmmmmmm…. Mmmmmmmmm…. Mmmmmmmmm…. Mmmmmmmm...”
He opened his eyes just enough to see a tousled blurred head. It lay like a cat on his belly, rocking slightly and humming, or was it purring. The little tongue felt like a kitten, playful and tickling, only incredibly smooth. It seemed to enjoy teasing the groove of his glans before delicate lips slipped over the head of his penis, and sucked gently.
“Mmmmmmmmmm…. Mmmmmmmmm…. Mmmmmmmmm…. Mmmmmmmm...”
Was it possible?
Madison opened his eyes just enough to be sure he wasn’t dreaming. All he could see was hair like spun gold, and a delicate ear peeking out from curls, and the collar of what-used-to-be-his pink oxford shirt, and a small shoulder, a bronzed shoulder when the shirt was pulled away. Jason was sucking his cock, though ‘sucking’ didn’t do justice to the exquisite sensation. The only time he actually ‘sucked’ was when his lips closed over his glans, and then it felt more like he was being absorbed into his son’s body. Between ‘sucks’, little fingers tickled, a slippery squirmy tongue licked, and delicate lips kissed from his balls all the way down his shaft.
“Mmmmmmmmmm….”
“Ahhhhhhh,” Madison groaned. “Soooo gooood.”
Jason’s head swiveled around. He was beyond shame. His lips were red and wet, glistening with his father’s excretion. His eyes blazed with excitement.
“Don’t you dare stop, Jason.”
He didn’t let go of his father’s erection. “You don’t mind?”
“You crazy?”
Jason wondered if he was, his fingers stroking gently. “Am I doing it okay?”
“Okay? You’re incredible!” Suddenly, Madison’s mind made connections. “Where’s Harrison?”
Jason smiled coyly. “He went to buy me ice-cream.”
“Good for you.” Madison stroked his son’s bare shoulder.
“I locked the front door.”
“That’s my boy!”
“I got kind of glowy while you were asleep." Jason hiked up his shirt. All over, see?"
“Look at you!”
His previously creamy body was golden brown, like he’d spent the last month in the Jamaican sun slathered with Hawaiian Tropic.
“Pretty weird huh?”
“You seen your hair lately?” Madison chided, more amused than disturbed. He ruffled his fingers through his son’s curly locks.
Jason brushed hair from his eyes. “I can feel it getting longer. It’s creepy.”
Madison smiled. “When I was about your age, my boyfriend wanted me to grow my hair longer.”
“He wanted you to look gay?”
“Actually, it’s a long tradition. He used to say that the longer a boy’s hair, the more he has sex with men.”
Jason was in instant tease mode. “You had really long hair, huh Dad?”
“About as long yours will be if we fuck every day.”
Jason smirked at the thought. “You want me to suck him some more?”
“If you do that humming thing, sure.”
Jason’s head turned back, settling back on his father’s erection. He sucked harder than ever, humming from deep in his lungs. With every labored breath, he tried to make it last longer, eventually taking his father’s penis so deep in his mouth that his throat vibrated around the swollen glans. Giving pleasure was the sole reason for his existence, though he selfishly wolfed every crystalline bead he managed to extract. Each delicious dewdrop made his heart beat stronger.
His hunger satisfied temporarily, he gave a final wet kiss to the glistening fat knob and wriggled back to lie alongside his father.
“Did I tell you to stop?”
Jason snuggled close, digging his nose into his father’s armpit before he rested his now-shaggy blond head on his father’s shoulder. “What if we did something else instead?” he cooed.
“Hmm; like what do you have in mind?”
His hunger sated, Jason was all teasing mode. “You’re supposed to be the expert. Master Randolph trained you.”
“Oh, that!” Madison patted his son’s little rump. “I can wait a while for boy-butt.”
“We’re supposed to consummate our love as father and son tonight so I’m not virtuous.”
“I’m all for that. You know what consummate means, right?”
“The fire of desire will torment both of us once we consummate. Then, the Brotherhood will forge the passion of immortality on the altar of passive lust.”
Madison exploded in laughter. “He said that?”
Jason nodded seriously, wondering if he’d gotten it all right. “I have to take the lead the first time, only I don’t know how.”
“You’re doing an excellent job so far. You know how guys make love, right?”
“Danny told me the man puts his penis inside the boy’s bottom.”
“Putting it inside you is the hardest part, but there’s more to it than that. Once you stretch a bit, it’s hard to stop.” Madison remembered one orgasm that went on and on. After that, his ass stopped hurting.
Jason interrupted him. “I want to consummate, if you do, Dad.”
“Right now?”
Instead of answering, Jason clambered over him, pushing the bathrobe aside. He knelt above his father’s thighs, smiling coyly as he unbuttoned his pink oxford shirt. With the front open, he grinned down at his dad.
“You want to consummate, right?”
“Um, well, of course I do… only it’s not something we have to do right away. ”
“He said to do it as soon as you woke up.”
“I’m sure he means when you’re ready. It’ll hurt unless we get you loosened up back there.”
“That’s what Danny said. Even if you use your fingers, I’ll be sore for a while. I don’t mind, okay.”
Madison chose his words carefully. “It changes you inside… and outside too… You might even bleed; I’m pretty big.”
“Don’t get angry because I said a bad word, okay?” Jason leaned in to whisper, “I want you to fuck me. I don’t care if it bleeds.”
“You’re sure? Don’t answer that.”
Madison breathed out. He was obsessed with his son’s slender body, its dimpled center glowing like molten gold. As if he needed further encouragement, his son’s penis was engorged, dark magenta like the imperial sign on his belly. It demanded consummation to gratify the Gods. Thirty years of self-denial held him back.
“I’m putting your thing in my butt so we can be consummated,” Jason muttered, reaching behind him.
Madison reached down to stop him.
“You want to help put him in me?” Jason asked hopefully.
“You decide how much to start off. We’ll both do it next time.”
Madison’s penis was so swollen that the rim flared like an arrow barb, yet Jason positioned the seeping knob in his crack and settled back. He felt it squash between his buttocks and occupy his opening, not unwelcome or like a stranger, like it belonged there. Instinct charged his senses, his every movement. He sighed and wriggled against it. It was big and bloated, soft and hot, and slippery smooth, so unlike his stepfather’s crude prong.
With his eyes closed to slits, Jason pressed back. He felt the knob of his father’s cock bulge into him, stretching his cheeks wide apart. With the massive sex organ poised to penetrate, any other boy would have second thoughts; not Jason. After nearly three years of torture on his stepfather’s Pillar of Deceits, he’d developed remarkable elasticity where all of his friends were tightly puckered. He was just starting in the third grade when he’d learned to dilate his anus and the passage beyond. However, despite his self-control, there was always a sharp burning pain when he shoved the prong-ball into his rectum. It was as big as a snooker ball, so the pain was bad. Sometimes, he worried that he’d ruptured his anus, however relief came swiftly--the stainless steel eyebolt that screwed into the ball was but 3/8” wide.
“You don’t have to do this,” his father murmured.
Simultaneously, he relaxed his sphincter and rotated his pelvis, squirming against the hot fleshy ball. He pushed down with his abdominal muscles, opening his ass so the head of his father’s penis could rub the itch just inside. He felt his dad’s tremor as he realized what was about to happen without so much as a whimper. He felt his anus stretch even farther, the tip of his father’s cock already inside him.
Suddenly, there was a glowing surge as the head popped past the end of the tunnel. Much to Jason’s consternation, there was no relief. Instead of a thin steel eyebolt, his father’s erection became thicker. However, it didn’t hurt. It was more like hunger driving him crazy. He needed his father’s thick hard cock buried inside.
With a determined look at his dad, he pushed back, shoving an inch of solid shaft into his unresisting body. Now, it wasn’t just poking at his bowels, it was where it belonged. He paused momentarily to catch his breath. He could feel his buttocks forced apart by the hot hard wedge in his crack. He grunted and pushed again. Another inch slid into him. Better! He felt so stretched that he didn’t dare try again. Instead, he cautiously leaned forward, dragging his father’s penis back out. It didn’t seem possible that it was so far inside him. He stopped as soon as it tugged at his anus. He stole a quick breath and pushed back against his dad’s middle. Now, it was INSIDE!
Another inch penetrated before his father’s erection poked something that made him tremble mightily. Within moments, the itch faded—all it took was friction. He started to feel - what? - pride. Perched above his father’s nearly nude bode body he had everything he wanted. His father beamed up at him. He was making his dad feel as good as he did. Delight seemed boundless. Infinite pleasure awaited. Friction turned into invigorating heat, pressure that buoyed his spirits, and made his heart throb.
“You okay?” his dad muttered.
Uncertain of anything, Jason nodded curtly.
“You sure?”
How could he say all he wanted to do was sit there now he had his father’s cock embedded halfway up his ass? Suddenly, he needed more, much more. Maybe he should clamp down on it, increase the pressure a little bit more?
Out of the blue, he remembered clenching his ass on his stepfather’s barbarous prong. He had to exert all of his strength to prevent it from pulling out. When the prong did pop out, his balls were nearly ripped from his body by the chains of sin. The last time he’d been hauled into the barn was the night before he ran away. In a fit of anger, he’d renounced God Almighty and Jesus as His Personal Savior. In his stepfather’s eyes, it was the worst of the Sins of the Soul, Hell Fire and Eternal Damnation. He had mounted the Pillar with the heaviest chains banging and clanging against the pole. He pissed blood afterwards.
Without warning, the muscle inside him strangled his father’s penis. It made him whimper. His father groaned, his face scrunched in ecstatic agony. He made a conscious effort to relax. It helped a little.
‘If you want him to plant his seed before winter, you must make love to his tool, not bite it off!’ This time, the Voice was inside his head.
“I can do this, but I need you to help me,” Jason whispered to the ethereal presence.
Unaware, Madison whispered back, “Just go slowly and don’t panic.”
‘Some lion cub!’ The Great God spluttered.
“I need to know what to do, that’s all.”
‘Catamites are supposed to be fucking experts. Right then, take it out of your ass.’ He grumped an Olympian curse about boys always being in a hurry.
Jason’s stepfather demanded absolute obedience. The slightest infraction earned an immediate slap and a reprimand, with subsequent penance in the barn. Obediently, he lifted up slowly, doing his best to delay the inevitable separation. When penis and rectum parted, his father tilted his head, smiling as if having Jason merely kneeling over him was enough to make him happy.
‘We’ll start with cunning. Surround him like a cloud, Catamite. That’s the way I had Io. Don’t actually touch him. Let him feel your presence. Anticipation is crucial. Io was Hera’s priestess, you know; not very bright, though pretty for a mortal. She made a very nice cow. She had big eyes like yours; dark, not sky-blue like yours.’
Madison sensed the change in Jason as he hovered above him. He tingled all over. Although Jason’s small fingers caressed only air, he had goose-bumps. His bloated penis still quivered from being inside his son’s taut body. The pressure had been enormous, as if explosion was imminent. It was no different now, even though they weren’t actually touching.
‘From cunning to sly seduction. Delight him with your breath. You’re not blowing a trumpet, boy! Exhale on his prick. Let life itself flow from inside you.’
Madison glowed where Jason’s breath touched. Moist warmth tantalized his most private parts.
“Yessss,” Madison groaned, enraptured by a boy’s soft sigh.
‘Be inventive, boy. An Athens’ pansy will lick your prick without a mote of passion. Jewish eunuchs are less boring. You need to be a playful lion cub!’
Madison’s penis throbbed mercilessly as Jason neared. His son’s mouth opened over the swollen head, his tongue extended, lapping yet never touching.
‘Now you’re acting like a Catamite, teasing him with puppy tongue.’
Jason cocked an eye to see his father’s rapture as his slippery hot tongue exuded passion. Unable to hold back, he let it graze the virile member, so tautly stretched and hot that both man and boy shuddered.
‘It’s time to ravish him like I did with Leda. Touch him everywhere with downy softness. Let your fingers dance upon his skin. Use your thumbs too. Draw out each stroke so he requests another. Are you sure you want to pinch his nipples? Oh my, you are a smart boy, aren’t you? Are you a swan, elegant and graceful? Yes, lick them, boy! Tweak them as you kiss his lips. Each kiss is a feather, and your tongue is the lightest feather of all. Hera would be furious if she saw your skill.’
Jason gave butterfly kisses to his dad’s forehead, cheeks and chin, his fingers toying with lumpy nipples, already thinking about what to do with his toes. With only a few moments of practice, his whole body became a tactile sex organ, no different than the little poker between his thighs. He cradled his father’s bare body, his fingers and feet, his taut tummy, every part of him stroking gently. Stunned, Madison succumbed to palpable pleasure, enchanted as Jason’s toes scrabbled along his erection, thin fluttering fingers discovering every nook and cranny, every sensitive spot.
‘Leda, queen of Sparta offered me her nether hole!’ the Great God sneered. ‘Use your hindquarters, boy!’
Jason straddled his father, positioning his crack over the thick shaft. He rocked back and forth, trembling each time the fat glans plunged past his anus. He was certain something was leaking out of him, making it slimy between them. Soon, his rocking reduced to twitching, the head of his father’s cock positioned against his opening. When he lifted up a few inches and pressed back, it seemed like it might push inside him.
‘As if a chubby cow’s crack is more desirable than a Spartan boy’s tight ass! Back then, Greek boys were tough as nails, almost impossible to enter unless they wanted it. A Phoenician squealer was easier to break in.’
“I’m trying my best,” Jason grumped.
‘The best are Theran; tight as a knot, but willing to open. No comparison to a Catamite like you, of course. Now, when I ravished Antiope, I was a satyr. She carried on like an Athens’ boy while I was doing her.’
“You want me to pretend I’m a stud?”
‘Ah, finally, a sense of humor. There’s still hope. Think equine, Catamite! You have the strength of ten men, a horse-tail, horse ears, and a horse-sized phallus. What will a mere boy do with a prick as big as his leg? Yes, rub yours against him. Not just on his belly, everywhere. Be playful. That’s what lion cubs do!’
Only Jason’s genitals touched his father. He started growling as he jabbed his stubby penis into his dad’s navel, ravaged his nipples and armpits, and smacked his lips with it. He rubbed it in his father’s eyes and poked it inside his nose after trying to smother him with his balls. Much to their mutual amusement, he even attempted penetration of his father’s dark hairy hole. The more he rubbed his penis across it, the more demanding was the ache inside his own bottom. Finally, he had to poke his finger in his ass.
‘What you need in your sanctum is bigger than a boy’s skinny finger,’ the Great God chided.
Jason couldn’t agree more. Alongside Madison’s substantial shaft, his stubby boyhood was steely hard and burning hot. He lay down above his horny father, his slender thighs draped outside. The oozing head grazed his chasm, poking at his hole. It was so hot and slippery that he nearly succumbed. Quickly, he lifted up and repositioned the adult organ between their bellies. He pressed down on it, the essence of their bodies merging. With the urge to copulate ignited, desire blazed into lust. Father and son writhed together, miniature and massive sex organs twitching and needy, slipping and sliding in adult excretion.
With no more warning than a grunt, the roles reversed. Madison flipped Jason onto his back.
‘It seems he’s had enough of you taking the lead. I pray he takes it easy when he mounts my youngest Catamite.’ The Great God chuckled. ‘With Europa, I had the ramming force of a bull. It was nearly as much fun as raping Ganymede.’
“What?” Jason gasped.
His father shoved his arms above his head, stretching him out on the couch. Madison leered down, primed to claim his offspring’s virtue. “Always remember, I love you.”
‘She was a fat-faced thing from Phoenicia. Why do women all look like cows? Lift up your legs so he can have you, lion-cub.’
Mute and blinking, Jason hiked his knees to his shoulders. His father grabbed hold of his ankles to keep him presented.
‘Now that’s a cavern fit for the Minotaur of Minos! Show him how big it can get. See how he smiles when you push out. Take hold of his tool so he knows what you want.’
He felt down to find his father’s bulging knob burrowing between his buttocks. With both hands, he guided it the rest of the way into his quivering acquiescent hollow. He hummed, lust reverberating in his lungs as the oozing glans toyed with tender flesh, recklessly advancing, retreating, encircling, excreting, enfilading. Their shared juice turned to slick shiny slime.
“Daddy, please. I want you inside me,” Jason begged, pushing out to welcome it.
‘Catamites always want a man inside them. That’s why Hera hated Ganymede. How I adored his impertinent prick and pretty little ass? I relished each coupling, the fragrant scent of sodomy, the sweet sweat upon his brow, his playful tickles, his whimpers of ecstasy when I ploughed him!’
Jason’s face contorted as his father speared him with a fierce unexpected thrust.
‘It doesn’t hurt that much!’
Jason groaned, “It feels so good.”
“You feel so good,” Madison groaned back, his throbbing tool now impaled inside his son’s little body.
‘Take a big breath, boy, because here it comes again.’
The Great God might well have delivered one of his thunderbolts. With the second powerful thrust, Jason bucked back. He’d bucked on his stepfather’s Pillar of Deceits, and hated every moment, unable to stop his body from yielding to the prong buried deep inside him. However, much as he despised surrender, he relished the fullness, his slim thighs shuddering, his whole body straining to retain it.
The look on his father’s face was completely unexpected. Dreamy, lidded eyes, a mystical smile, flushed cheeks, his tongue drooling spit on Jason’s forehead; utterly enchanted as the little rectum coiled and squeezed, and milked his sex for every drop of crystal juice!
‘Now, consummate your love for your father.’
“Fuck me senseless,” Jason sniggered, his bowels resonating with each giggle, clutching the cock that accidentally impregnated his mother. Now, it belonged to him.
“You’re one incredible kid,” Madison growled, hopelessly in love.
‘When I raped Ganymede, he begged for more.’
“More!”
It was hard to believe that a little boy could actually smile about being sodomized by a cock in the 95th percentile of size, yet Jason did. It was a bizarre, uncanny smile. Finally, he had what he wanted.
For three years, he’d suffered inquisition at his stepfather’s whim. He’d atoned for his sins, a few real, most invented. He’d pleaded for mercy that never came, and miraculously gained the ability to control the constricting muscle. He could make his bowels go slack, or exert so much pressure that his stepfather’s prong defied gravity. Now, he squeezed on his father’s cock, relaxed, and squeezed again. Squeeze and relax, a cycle every seven seconds, all the while his anus crept slowly closer to his father’s hairless crotch.
Madison stopped. “Am I doing okay?”
“My dick’s gone soft.”
“It’ll bounce back to life soon enough.”
‘He’s taken possession of your rectum sanctorum, that’s why. All that remains is your immolation, and you will be a Catamite henceforth.’
“Mmmmmm,” Jason sighed happily, though still uncertain what a catamite was exactly, and completely lost as to the meaning of ‘immolation’. “You can go in and out if you want, Dad.”
“You want me to…”
“Take me, Dad…”
Madison pumped gently, cautiously, patiently, waiting for the moment when his son’s body relinquished all control. Jason’s mouth gaped, his tongue lolling as he panted. He gazed up at his father and urged him on with anxious nods and reckless smiles. He hungered for more ambrosia even as more oozed into him. It seeped steadily into his rectum. From his center, immortal fire blazed. He began to tremble, quaking with every thrust.
“Are you okay?” Madison whispered in his son’ small ear, his thumbs stroking sweaty shoulders. He was close, dangerously close.
“I feel strange inside… like I’m going to explode…”
‘NOT YET! THERE’S SOMETHING HE MUST DO,’ the Great God thundered. ‘Where is Randolph when you need him?’
On cue, someone hammered loudly on the door. A few moments later, it would not have mattered. Instead, the official consummation was rudely interrupted.
“What the fuck?” Madison jerked back, yanking his throbbing erection out of Jason.
+++++
Madison expected to find Officer Harrison standing at the door with ice-cream. Instead, a face from his own childhood greeted him. He shoved past, already halfway across the living room before Madison turned from the open door.
“It’s nice to see you again too, Randolph,” Madison said to his back.
“You have to leave immediately!” Randolph called. He stopped in front of Jason and smirked. “Definitely a boy-god. You hit the jackpot with this one, Einstein.”
Jason had managed to put on his pink oxford shirt, though all the buttons were undone. Randolph gave his front a passing glance, his limp penis little more than a token reminder he was male.
“He hasn’t seeded you, has he?” Randolph peered at Jason’s face, now flushed with shame. “Having an ass full of semen is nothing for a boy to be ashamed about!” He smelled the air and smiled. “You are a juicy one, aren’t you? And ready to ascend! With luck, there’ll be time to finish it in the car.”
“Finish what?” Jason peeped.
“Your sacrifice, Lion-cub. You can’t ascend looking like a badly trimmed Arab brat. I’ll never hear the end of it.” Randolph spun around. “Fetch some clothes, John. There isn’t time to get dressed. You can do it afterwards.”
“What’s the big rush?”
“There isn’t time! I’ll explain in the car.”
Jason watched his father hurry into the bedroom.
“Hurry! They’ve been waiting up the street for the last fifteen minutes. Any moment now,” Randolph added. He turned around, taking in the small apartment. “I assume there’s a back door?”
“Kitchen,” Madison called back.
Suddenly aware that this strange man was staring at him once again, Jason fumbled with the shirt buttons. He’d managed to get one fastened when Randolph stopped his hand.
“Don’t cover yourself, Gorgeous.” Randolph licked his lips lasciviously, his thumb stroking Jason’s small palm. “A beautiful boy should always go naked!”
“Dad?”
Madison stopped rummaging through his dresser. “Keep your hands off him until he gets to know you, unless you want him to think you’re a lecherous old man.”
“I am. I took care of your virginity, didn’t I?” he chuckled.
“Yes you did, much to my mother’s chagrin.”
“Women are all the same. She thought you were a little angel.” Randolph inclined his head to Jason, still fiddling with shirt buttons. “Your dad was a horny little boy. He practically raped me the first time.”
“As I remember it, it wasn’t quite like that!” Madison said, his voice muffled from the closet.
“He loved taking my tool inside his ass, just as you will.” Randolph glanced down at Jason and sniffed again. “He was fucking you when I knocked, I take it?”
Jason reddened.
“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed,” Randolph teased. “You shouldn’t be! You’re not the first boy to have a man’s penis buried in his bottom; and you definitely won’t be the last!” Still holding Jason’s hand, Randolph started towards the kitchen. “We need to go, John!”
Jason dug in his heels. “Dad!”
Madison barged out of the bedroom, thrust a bundle of clothes into Randolph’s arms, hurriedly swaddled Jason in the star-embroidered quilt, and scooped him up.
“I need my Simba jacket from the dryer, Dad!”
+++++
With the lights over the rear staircase turned off, Madison clutched his son with one arm and felt his way down with his other hand, staying so close to the weathered siding that Jason scraped off paint flakes. He clung to his father and his warm Simba jacket, unable to use his legs because of the tightly wrapped quilt.
“Watch the railing at the landing. It’s busted,” Madison whispered.
“You’ve forgotten I can see better than a cat in the dark?”
“I remember quite well.” Madison could help smiling.
Depraved, electrifying things happened in the dark. Randolph had taken him pressed up against a tree with cars full of randy teenagers parked nearby, in the barn bent over a hay bale with a horse looking on, and… The list was long.
He paused on the landing, his eyes searching the dark rear yard for movement, listening for the slightest sound. Jason’s arms tightened around his neck, every breath absorbing his father’s scent.
Randolph stepped closer, nuzzling Jason’s hair. “This lion cub will test a man’s stamina.”
“Patience or staying power?”
“Both, I expect.” Randolph fondled tousled curls. “If all boys were as beautiful as this one, the world would be a far happier place.”
With a muted sigh, he started on the final flight of stairs. At the bottom, he walked quietly to the corner of the house and peeked around. He beckoned for Madison to hurry.
“It’s awful timing, I know, but I have to ask… He’s not too loose, is he? I worried after what that beast did to him in the barn, though he’s much stronger for it.”
Madison kissed his son’s forehead. “He’s incredible…”
“In case you haven’t realized it, Einstein, your son’s a genius like you.”
“We have a few things in common, huh?”
“His ass is amazing, but you know that already,” Randolph chuckled.
Suddenly, he pointed at a pinprick of light in the car corner of the yard. Madison strained to see the police cruiser parked in the gloom, hidden from the street by a rambunctious hedge. They crossed the yard, feet crunching on icy grass until they reached the end of the driveway. Quickly, they got into Harrison’s white Ford Crown Victoria Police Interceptor. Somehow, it had survived from 2001. It smelled even older, cigarette smoke and stale McDonalds, the upholstery impregnated with grime and grease, and things it was better off not to know about.
With Madison and Jason in the rear, and Randolph in the front in a dilapidated split-bench seat, Officer Harrison cranked the engine into a rough idle.
“It runs better than it sounds,” he said, half turning in his seat to look at Jason, the Crown Victoria gurgling, a loose exhaust pipe rattling underneath. “Hi Awesome,” he muttered. “You look different.”
“Did you get my ice-cream?” Jason asked, giggles and teasing completely out of control.
"Caramel cream with chocolate chip. Don't eat it all at once."
When it came to taking ice-cream orders from cute little boys, Officer Lonny Harrison was a single-minded storm trooper. Nothing would get in his way, even if he had to drive halfway across town to find caramel cream with chocolate chip. Luckily, he’d run into Randolph on the way back from the store. He was two blocks away when Randolph waved him down. Everyone said Lonny Harrison was a good listener, and he was, though he wasn’t sure he believed any of what Randolph said. The problem was that Randolph also knew things he should not have known. It was as if he’d been there all along since the murder at Madison’s house.
Harrison was a self-stopper so he waited for orders, so distracted by the little boy in the back seat that he couldn’t come up with any options. Again, he turned and looked behind, catching Jason’s eye. He was sure he saw a flicker of a smile, the sort of plucky-Puck smile that said, ‘I’ve been very naughty.’
“What have you been up to?” he asked, wondering how the boy would eat ice-cream without a spoon.
“Nothing,” Jason peeped. “My dad and I have just been getting acquainted, right Dad?”
“Are you waiting for the lights to change, Lonny?” Randolph interrupted, mindful that for a while, he depended on the policeman.
Harrison looked bewildered. “While you were inside the house, I tried to call Detective Burton like we talked about, Sir; only he’s not answering, or his phone’s switched off.”
“No worries!” Randolph swiveled in his seat to look through the rear window. “From what you said about him, he’d want to get away from here as quickly as possible.”
“I’m thinking we should find somewhere safe until he can get back to us?”
“Good idea! I know the perfect place. Branson, Missouri. It’s a cultural icon.”
“That’s four hours away, Sir.”
“We’ll make a stop on the way, Officer Harrison.”
“Right, Sir.”
With the headlights switched off, Harrison put the car into reverse and reversed slowly onto the driveway, towards the street.
“I’d like to get there tonight!” Randolph added under his breath.
“I got it, Sir.”
Much to Randolph’s consternation, the Crown Victoria reversed at a crawl all the way to the front yard. Suddenly, Harrison floored the accelerator. The decrepit engine roared to life, squealing tires, although its 250 Detroit stallions were more like 250 Shetland ponies put out to pasture. It slewed past Police Commissioner Calvin A. Tanner, whose very surprised face was the last thing Harrison expected to see in the black-as-soot night.
Harrison slammed on the brakes, slammed the gearbox into forward, and slammed the accelerator to the floor. He missed slamming into Tanner by a scant two inches.
“Incompetent asses!” Harrison said as he squeezed the car between two police cruisers blocking off the end of the street.
Behind them, Tanner shouted, “Stupid mother fuckers! Shoot the kid!”
A barrage of bullets banged into the car, shattering the rear window. Madison shoved Jason into the smelly wasteland below the seat and flung himself over him.
“Be careful. There’s a container of ice-cream somewhere back there,” Harrison said, swerving the car from left to right.
The shooting ended when the Crown Victoria careened around the corner. Randolph clung to the door handle as Harrison braked hard to avoid a minivan backing down a driveway.
“Next turn right!” he ordered.
“Right, Sir.” Harrison reached to switch on the headlights.
“Leave them off a while longer.”
“Good idea, Sir. I can’t believe they fired at a police car?”
Randolph ignored him and looked over the seat. “You need to finish what you started, Einstein.”
Madison lifted his head. “Here? You’re crazy!”
“It’s not my choice either, but our little lion cub could ascend at any moment.”
“Ascend? What on earth are you talking about?”
“My butt itches something awful,” Jason murmured.
“Trust me, John; just do it!”
“Do what?” Harrison asked. At 60 mph, he was already most of the way down the block.
Randolph returned a disapproving
glance. “Jason’s got a small
problem his dad needs to tend to. You
just get us where we're
going and let me take care of it. At the next corner, go right
again.”
“Can I put on the headlights?”
“You better, unless you plan to hit that garbage can.”
Harrison peered through the windshield. “What garbage can ?”
The Crown Victoria lurched sideways, the now-crunched garbage can skittering across the road before it banged into a Prius. Harrison quickly switched on the lights.
“When you get to Olive, take it to Midland, and then west on Page to I-170,” Randolph instructed.
When he turned back, Madison had resumed his seat, now with Jason sitting on top of him, the star-studded quilt and Jason’s Simba jacket covering both of them.
He smiled approvingly. “Not the position I would’ve recommended, but it’ll do.”
“You’re serious, right?” Madison asked, holding tightly onto Jason in lieu of a seatbelt.
“He’s a tough little guy. He’ll need depth and vigor to come alive, the same as you did.”
“Dad, my tummy’s feels really hot; like it’s on fire” Jason whimpered.
“Are you going to be sick?”
“It’s not that kind of feeling, Dad!”
Jason’s exasperation brought a smirk to Randolph’s face. “You better hurry, John. Just remember, the deeper the furrow and the more boisterous the plowing, the stronger the bond you forge with him.”
“What on earth are you talking about?” Harrison said.
“Can we listen in on the police radio? That’ll be more helpful. Which knob is it? This one?”
“… in pursuit of a stolen police vehicle. An unmarked white Crown Victoria, license plate KGA 777. All non-assigned units are required to keep clear and report location. Four SOS suspects are armed and considered extremely dangerous…”
“Shoot on sight. The mother fucker is talking about us,” Harrison muttered.
Randolph shook his head. “I warned you, didn’t I? They want both of them dead. You too, because you’re a witness.”
“Dad… so hot… all over.”
“John; make it a good one. The more seed you plant, the greater is his power.”
Suddenly, Jason groaned and scrunched his face. His belly was drum-taut, aching like never before.
“Dad… Please hurry,” he pleaded, desperate to have his father deep inside him.
Randolph lifted up his chin. “Shhhh Lion-cub. Unfortunately, your father must do this quickly. It will still be very special, though a little scary. It’ll be easier if you close your eyes and let it happen.”
Madison would’ve preferred face to face so he could see Jason, only it was too late to stop. He shifted in the seat, repositioning Jason, his little buttocks no longer pressed against his groin, but higher up, more exposed. He drooled saliva on his fingers and reached beneath the quilt. Jason felt his father’s slippery fingers slide between them, wriggle into his crack, and rub against his anus. The last time, he was gentle. Not now.
“What’s happening back there?” Harrison asked, again diverting his attention from the road ahead to the rear vision mirror.
“Officer Harrison, I need you to drive the car and not ask questions.”
“Right, Sir.”
Madison chafed his son’s irritated anus with a single finger, stretching and slickening, certainly not the reassuring tickle he would’ve used under other circumstances. He jabbed in farther to discover his son’s passage was still dilated.
“I assume he’s loose,” Randolph said quietly.
“Very,” Madison said absently. He moved his finger from side to side, rotating, curling, tugging against the outer muscle.
He was both annoyed at himself for his inability to resist temptation. While he accepted Randolph’s presence as inevitable, it bothered him that a cop would witness what should’ve been the most intimate moment of Jason’s life. There would never be a deserted cornfield under the stars for him to remember. Their love would blossom in the tatty rear seat of a dilapidated police cruiser with a half-gallon of ice-cream underfoot. Despite the crowded, smelly place, despite their desperate situation, Madison found himself shaking as he kneaded his son’s hot, moist canal.
“He’ll have no problem expanding for you. And to think his stepfather thought he was punishing him,” Randolph said with unbridled scorn.
Madison positioned the blunt tip of his penis in Jason’s narrow cleft. The boy’s slimy heat engulfed him. He forced himself to remain motionless, certain he could feel Jason’s quaking heartbeat. He pressed up slightly, and Jason tightened involuntarily.
“What’s happening back there?” Harrison asked.
“Something that should’ve happened three years ago,” Randolph said. “The timing would’ve been perfect, but it wasn’t to be. John had a beard at the time.”
“That’s important?”
“All actions have consequences.” Randolph’s thumb stroked Jason’s earlobe, his ring finger caressing delicate lips. “You feel him at your portal, don’t you Lion-cub? When he knocks, let him enter.”
“Dad…”
“It’ll go in easier if you relax and push down little bit, Babe.”
Madison’s advice was well intentioned. How often had he done exactly that? After three times, he’d learned the basic procedure to facilitate insertion. After a week, he’d perfected penetration, relax, exhale, push down, and whimper if he had to.
“Breathe out as you push down,” he muttered.
He was sure Jason needed more than spit, though he’d already lost his virginity with nothing more than saliva and pre-seminal excretion. However, even without applying pressure, he felt his son’s opening give way, his penis penetrating far enough that the rim of his glans was suitably embedded. Like their first time, lying on the couch, it seared his mind. He dared not move. Instead, he relished the sensation, quivering hot flesh seeming to draw him deeper into the tunnel until his swollen knob was poised to enter the inner sanctum. Remarkably, Jason’s sphincter was so flexible that with a slight jerk of his hips he poked into the boy’s rectum, his ingress aided by secretions of his own.
“When you’re in, just nod,” Randolph said, though he already suspected the deed was done.
Harrison had to know. “In where?”
“He’s where he needs to be, that’s all you need to know,” Randolph said curtly. “You can slow down for now. There’s no point in drawing attention to us.”
Safely hidden from sight under the quilt, Madison hugged Jason tightly and lifted up, forcing another inch of rigid sex organ into his son’s slender abdomen. It turned Jason’s next anxious breath into a dreamy sigh.
“I’ll take that as a nod,” Randolph sniggered.
This time, with a hand clasping Jason’s hip to hold him in place, Madison thrust again. With that, his erection had penetrated the requisite three inches, his glans now bumping into Jason’s immature gland. Side-on, he was sure Jason was smiling at Randolph.
“So you were saying you were on highway patrol before you were assigned to this case? Is that where you learned to drive?” Randolph asked.
“Um, yeah.” Harrison snatched a glance at the mirror. He couldn’t see much, just Jason’s quirky smile. “My uncle got me into go karts when I was a kid. I always wanted to race.”
Jason wriggled against the thickness buried in his butt. His father’s cock was inside him, so different to his stepfather’s barbarous prong, yet the principle was the same, and the sensation was similar. What had been missing in the barn was the wondrous heat that now burgeoned inside him, a soothing sense that everything was as it should be, and most important of all, the realization that he was joined with the man who made him. Instinctively, he wriggled again, discovering how much room there was. He rocked his pelvis up and down, then side to side, sensing as much as feeling the massive shaft move inside him. Impulsively, he began to hump, driving it in and out.
“There isn’t time to let him do it,” Randolph said bluntly.
“You let me do it my first time… It still hurt like a bitch…”
“That’s Olive up ahead, Sir,” Harrison interrupted, wondering whether he’d heard right. Surely not! However, he was getting hard just thinking about the possibility. “I think there’s a cruiser just past the lights.”
“Keep going, no matter what,” Randolph said without looking up. He lowered his voice. “Trust me, John. After what that sanctimonious moron did to him, tight is not a problem.”
Madison positioned Jason’s legs outside his legs and grasped his hips, effectively pinning the boy immobile above him and forcing his buttocks to open wide. He began to thrust, shoving deeply. Despite the hot, slippery sheath that surged along his erection, he was furious at himself for not thinking more about Jason’s pleasure.
“He hasn’t got a stiff,” he muttered.
“Neither did you the first time. It was having me inside you that made it worth the doing.” Randolph glanced up again. “Keep going!”
“What about the lights? Right, keep going,” Harrison said after seeing Randolph’s angry look. “I hope the seatbelts are on back there.” He glanced at the mirror, questions coming one after the other, yet not at all certain he wanted to know the answers.
He couldn’t see much, just Jason’s head lying on his father’s shoulder, Madison nuzzling his son’s golden curls. However, the quilt was moving as if someone was tugging at it. And then there was the smell. It was like being in a bakery when the bread came out of the oven. He breathed in and savored it, and wondered where it came from.
“Watch the traffic,” Randolph snapped.
“Where the hell did he come from?” Harrison grouched, noticing a second police car in his rear vision mirror.
He accelerated through the intersection, still stealing peeks in the mirror until he was certain Jason was shaking underneath the quilt. Besides the invigorating smell, there was the look on his face; it was positively joyful. The boy was dreamy, with his eyes half closed, mouth half open, murmuring something that eluded him until he thought about the repetitive pattern of Jason’s lip movements. He sounded out ‘I love you.’ Jason was saying it again and again.
Without warning, the police car bumped the right rear fender, attempting to spin the Crown Victoria into oncoming traffic. Harrison veered off. He swerved back aggressively, forcing the other vehicle to brake to avoid a City bus. Another police car replaced it.
“Where’s Zeus when you need him?” Randolph complained. “He’s ready for some vigor, John.”
Instead of whimpering, Jason gasped as his father’s loins pumped against his buttocks. His pleasure intensified tenfold. He writhed on adult cock, groaning sporadically. Unable to move, he used his inner muscles. Randomly squeezing, rhythmically receding, whining euphorically, pulling the parental penis deeper into him, relishing each unpredictable surge into his rectum.
Madison leaned closer until Jason’s long curling hair tickled his nose. “I love you,” he whispered.
“I’ll always love you, Dad,” Jason whispered back.
He kept thrusting in Jason’s now-shaking body, wishing he could put the boy on his hands and knees and plow him properly. The second time, Randolph bred him like a bitch in heat. It gave a better angle and more depth, and let a man apply the kind of force that made a boy become addicted.
“Don’t mind me.” Randolph lifted up the quilt to look between them. “He’s ready.”
Unseen by man or boy, he removed a thick ring from his index finger, and another, slightly thinner from his ring finger.
“Do exactly what I tell you.” He pressed the larger ring into Madison’s right hand. “He’s on the edge so don’t stop whatever you do. Slide this down his boyhood as far as you can go.”
Madison took hold of Jason’s limp penis, easily pushing the ring down the chubby little shaft until it could go no farther.
“Now this one,” Randolph said, handing over the smaller ring. “It must go as far down as you can get it.”
The second ring was tight enough that excess skin bunched up before it. It was only a fraction of an inch from the other, five or six metric increments, before skin wrinkles stopped it from going any farther.
“What’s going on back there?” Harrison’s cock throbbed mercilessly, oozing copious beads of slippery juice into his Fruit-of-the-Loom boxers.
Randolph ignored the distraction. “Pull the skin over the first ring,” he instructed, his eyes wild and wide as he gazed into the darkness beneath the quilt.
Mindlessly, Madison tugged delicate skin back along the shaft.
“You’ll want it tighter! Really tight, so he’ll never want to masturbate. Nothing worse than a Catamite with extra skin. That’s better. Now, pull the first ring down to seat it. Twist it. Harder! They need to lock.”
“Aaaaaawwwwwww,” Jason screeched as his penis instantly attained maximum erection.
Tawny skin was pulled so tight and shiny that it glistened like the gold Seal ring. He felt it burning, searing his most tender flesh with an indelible imprint, a mark of water that would forever identify him as the Seventh Catamite of Aquarius.
“Now, fuck your lion cub with all your strength!” Randolph ordered.
“What?” Harrison very nearly shouted.
His heart thundered in his chest as he looked into the mirror. There was no doubt any longer. Father and son were jerking violently underneath the quilt.
Madison was so close to orgasm that his thrusts were unpredictable jabs, his throbbing erection thrusting in fitful harmony with Jason’s pulsing bowels, torturing his shaft with intermittent squeezes.
“When I tell you, squeeze his balls as hard as you can.”
“He’s really fucking the kid!” Harrison muttered in disbelief. The possibility, as unlikely as it seemed, still distracted from his assigned task of driving.
Despite 33 years of heterosexuality, over a single hour his life had changed. While he had yet to exchange women for little boys, it was more than a passing inclination. Suddenly, it was all he could think about. He wanted nothing more than to be in the back seat of the car with Jason lying over him. And it wasn’t just Jason he lusted after. Any boy would do. He needed to feel up a boy-dick and fuck boy-butt. His entire existence focused on a single thought; how it would feel to have a sexy little boy writhing against him. He imagined covering a hairless naked body with slimy adult jizz, rubbing it into his smooth skin. Hell, he’d even do it with a black kid!
“I love you! I love you!” Madison groaned. “I love you so much. I love you more than anything. Damn, I love you….”
He felt the surge build up inside him, the growing heat, the growling roar of lust exploding into ecstasy. His son was equally enraptured, babbling his own incoherent promises of love.
Gripping the steering wheel with his right hand, Harrison brought himself off with his left hand. He grasped and massaged, his balls on the brink of exploding. He had a fleeting thought that he was finished with Sandra; from now on, he’d only want little boys. That did it! He squirted and groaned, and squirted some more.
“Now! Squeeze and plant your seed deep!”
Madison jammed his penis into his son’s rectum and spurted. Thick gobs of pearly essence flooded Jason’s colon. His father ejaculated weeks of pent-up semen, emptying paternal sperm into his own flesh and blood. Simultaneously, he squashed his son’s micro-gonads between his fingers, expelling the residue from three years earlier. The essence of father, son, and the Great God merged in a thunderclap of passion. A golden glow suffused the Crown Victoria as Jason’s heart skipped seven beats. By then, his blood had turned to ichor.
Detective Kevin Burton despised cable TV. It was entertainment euthanasia, mindless reality and games shows, and 24-hour news for the half-witted. Even the programs he usually found interesting bored him. He’d seen HBO’s True Detective episode three times, and a fourth viewing wasn’t likely to improve his opinion. He didn’t know any detective whose job was so exciting and prone to complexity. Mostly, they investigated drive-by shootings of teenage drug dealers in gang-related turf disputes.
He channeled-surfed to Fox News, where he paused after hearing ‘pedophile.’ The ex-school-teacher/TV-hypnotist was on his usual rant about pedophiles, stopping short of accusing them of satanic worship. This time, the case that drew Irish indignation was in St. Louis, a gross miscarriage of justice with the release of a man because of police incompetence. In mute disbelief, Burton heard the legal system must be corrupt because the preponderance of evidence clearly indicated guilt. The ‘evidence’ was a photo of the incredibly cute ten-year-old ‘Andy’. Only three weeks earlier, he’d discovered the photo on Dr. John Madison’s computer. It was questionable porn—he’d needed to zoom in 500 percent to see a pixelated fold of skin hiding under the leg of the boy’s shorts, and even then it might’ve been cream-colored briefs; however, the production crew had cunningly plastered a large black oval over the offending crotch, implying the boy was both well-endowed and sexually aroused.
Burton gaped at a photo of himself, the incompetent cop. “What the fuck!”
The righteous host then bloviated; even if Madison was innocent of kidnapping, rape, torture, and murder, he should receive an automatic 20-year sentence without parole for possessing hundreds of thousands of other images that were too obscene to show on TV. Astounded, Burton listened to the media moron declare that the US Constitution was never intended to apply to pedophiles. If that wasn’t enough, the nation needed Pedophile Courts to dispense justice quickly and ruthlessly.
It was so depressing, he turned off the TV.
He would’ve been miserable; however, his dinner with Jeff had been so enjoyable that he still smiled when he thought about it. Coquette was packed with New Orleans atmosphere and the food was exquisitely Southern. Imagining what his wife would say about wasting money, Burton had gleefully ordered a glass of Perrier-Jouët Grand Brut, and let Jeff have his first sip of champagne when no one was watching. He followed with duck farro piccolo, okra, arugula, chanterelles, and peppers, and a glass of Dolcetto d’Alba, which Jeff obviously didn’t like given his ‘make-me-puke’ face. After the leading the Colts to a 2-1 victory, he would’ve been happy with a hamburger off the kid’s menu, but there was neither. Burton ordered extra bread and a small plate of fried shrimp, and they shared two exotic desserts. Afterwards, they walked Washington Street to find a taxi to take them to the French Quarter, where they met up with the rest of the Fairview Heights Junior Elite Soccer Team. They’d gorged at Dickey’s Barbecue Pit.
Now, Jeff was in the adjoining room, supposedly watching TV with Joey and Trevor, his two best friends on the team. Every so often Burton could hear them cackle, squeal, or whoop. He’d gone in several times, ostensibly to fulfill his chaperon duties and make sure they were behaving themselves. One time, he discovered them trying to access pay-per-view adult movies. Another time, they were having a pillow fight. The last time, they were telling dirty jokes. Since then, the three boys had been quiet for ten minutes, which could be good or bad.
He got up from the bed and listened at the connecting door, not wanting to go in now that he’d stripped to his boxers. He heard a muted giggle after Jeff muttered something he couldn’t make out.
Trevor said, “Knock yourself out, Bitch.”
More muffled words followed. Burton tried the door handle, expecting that the boys had locked it from their side. They hadn’t. He opened the door an inch to listen in, and maybe catch a peek if he was lucky.
“You like it slow at the start, right?” Jeff sounded as if he’d spent the soccer match shouting from the stands.
“Mmmhmmm. Can you do it using your fist?” Trevor murmured. “Yeahhh. Like that is perfect.”
“What’s if feel like with extra skin?” Joey asked. Joey was Joseph Feldman, the only Yid-kid in the Colts. He played goalie.
“Fuckin’ awesome,” Trevor said.
“That because there’s more to jack off with?” Joey had more questions than a seven year old.
“My bro says uncut feels way better ‘cause the head’s protected. You guys lost out when they chopped off yours.”
“If it feels so good, why’d your brother get his cut off?” Jeff said from under the comforter.
Safe behind the door, Burton smiled. It was obvious where his son was going. Jeff was every bit as bright as the Yid-kid, and more worldly.
“He’s the same as me, Doofus,” Trevor said.
Thinking it funny how the dumb kid got the two smartest kids on the team to worship his body, Burton opened the door a few inches and peeked through the gap. As he expected, two of the three boys huddled under the comforter. The only head he could see was Trevor’s, and he had his eyes closed.
“You wanna suck it, Bitch?” Trevor asked, clearly in control. He was tall for his age, which was the Colt’s psychological advantage on the field.
“Thought you’d never ask,” Jeff snickered.
There were clothes scattered across the floor, so many clothes, Burton figured the boys had to be naked. He recognized Jeff’s Billabong chino-pants along with his silver-white Nike sneakers. He’d bought both pants and sneakers that very morning so Jeff would look cute for their Coquette dinner. Sand-colored jeans with stove-pipe legs and an accentuated crotch, and a button-down light blue shirt had transformed a Midwest kid into Hollywood heart-throb. Jeff’s navy-blue Colt’s jacket was likely the one draped over the TV--Burton could see what looked like a lucky ‘7’.
“Is it okay if I play with your balls?” Joey sounded excited.
“You’re such a fag, Feldman!”
The two boys under the blanket repositioned themselves, making a mountain over Trevor’s middle. It was obvious which boy was Jeff—Joey was clumsy by comparison. Jeff leaned over Trevor. Joey’s head was so close it got in the way until Jeff pushed him away. The gap between boy-mouth and boy-cock shrank until Burton heard a wet slurp.
“Shit! You fuckin’ gulped his dick, man!” That was Joey. “Do it again.” Joey got his head between Jeff and Trevor again.
“Wow! You gotta see this, Trev. Your whole dick’s in his mouth.”
“I can fuckin’ feel it, asshole.”
The last thing Burton expected to see on the trip to New Orleans was his macho son giving oral sex to his team mates. His cock was went from hard to rigid just thinking about his boy giving blow jobs; obviously, it wasn’t his first time. Jeff’s head stayed down for a long while, bobbing under the comforter.
“Ahhhhhyeahhhh. Fuckin’ suck it… fuck yeah! Faster!”
The comforter jumped and jerked as if alive. Watching Jeff suck cock was like watching a cat fight under a blanket.
“Ohhhhhhohhhhhsuckmeee!”
With a grunt and a groan, Trevor’s head lifted off the pillow, his mouth gaping. His body shuddered and twitched, and he gasped. Under the comforter, Jeff sucked greedily.
“Shit! You got it to cum already.”
“First of many,” Jeff declared, slicking his lips as if there was something to taste.
“You got lots more spit than I do.”
“The stuff on the head, that’s his. The rest is mine.”
“That from his balls?” Joey asked.
”It’s not pee, that’s for fuckin’ sure. See how it’s slippery.” Jeff smacked his lips again.
“I’m not putting *that* in my mouth.”
“It won’t hurt you, Joey. It don’t even taste bad, just slimy.”
“So he makes cum, right?” Joey said.
“Uh uh. Real cum is white. There’s way more of it, like gobs and gobs everywhere.”
“It’s real, asshole!” Trevor interjected. “I bet you never ever even seen grownup cum.”
Jeff shoved back the comforter. “Guaranteed I’ve seen more than you have.”
Joey’s head popped out too. “You want to suck mine now, Jeff?”
“You gotta suck him first.”
“Do I have to?” From the sound of it, Joey wasn’t eager.
“You do if you want me to suck yours.”
“How come he doesn’t suck us?” Joey demanded.
“Because I’m not a fuckin’ cock-sucker like you and Dick-breath,” Trevor joked, as much as saying he wasn’t going to reciprocate.
Burton stared. He’d never realized the Colts’ team captain would be sexual with anyone besides his twin brother, and himself. He grasped his erection through his boxers, imagining Jeff holding it, squeezing out his pre-cum, making a wet spot in the cloth.
“Dick-breath wants to suck him again.” Jeff’s head disappeared again.
Joey followed him, giggling. “It’s still hard.”
Hidden under the comforter, Jeff was completely uninhibited. His father could hear him slurping spit.
Trevor pumped into Jeff’s mouth. “Oh yeah, suck that hard-on, Bitch!”
“Why’s he’s playing with your ass?” Joey muttered.
“Because it feels fuckin’ incredible! Sheesh, don’t you know anything?”
Jeff went on and on, making wet sucking sounds, until without any warning, he lifted up. There was a flurry under the comforter as Joey took over cock-sucking duties.
“How much do I put in?” Joey asked.
“As much as you can, Dude. Suck him the same as you do me and Kyle.”
‘Kyle?’ It had to mean that his twins were playing around. Burton nearly laughed, yet it only got better.
“It’s bigger than you and Kyle put together,” Joey pointed out.
“So open wider.” Jeff put his hand on Joey’s head and guided him down.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh.”
“Very funny, Doofus.”
“Don’t fuckin’ bite it unless you want my knee in your nuts,” Trevor growled.
“Plus dick is definitely not kosher,” Jeff added, choking on giggles.
Joey lifted off after a few seconds. “No shit! My mom would have a fit if she knew I sucked cock.”
“So don’t fuckin’ tell her,” Trevor said. “Yeahhhh. Suck me.”
Joey started rubbing, putting off going down until he got used to the idea of having something that big in his mouth. “You gotta get Kyle to suck you, Trev. He’s awesome.”
“If anyone can make this thing spit, he can,” Jeff added.
Burton closed the door, leaving a minuscule gap just enough to see Jeff crawl out from under the comforter. His heart was thumping. His cock was throbbing. He strained to hear.
“I’ll be back!” Jeff added the requisite Schwarzenegger accent. “Gotta go say nighty-night to my dad. He promised he’d give me a back rub.”
“You comin’ back after?” Trevor asked.
“I will if he snores… I oughta stick around and take photos of you up Joey’s booty?” Jeff teased. He was naked except for boxers.
“Won’t be nothin’ to see. I ain’t doing shit if you’re pervin’ on us…”
Jeff laughed as he picked up clothes. “Don’t worry. I’m not sleepin’ with a pair of butt-fuckin’ homos.”
“Any homos in here are Joey and you, Dick-Breath. I’ve seen you two do it, remember?”
Jeff was already on his way to the door. “You saw us sixty-nine. Anyway, getting your dick sucked doesn’t mean yo’ queer. It’s only if you do it up the other guy’s chute.”
“Like that’s goin’ to happen!”
“Whatever! Just keep the uh-uhs down while I’m getting my back rubbed.”
“Fucker! You wanna get the lights, Bitch?”
Jeff hit the switch. “I’m locking it on his side, so knock if you guys need Vaseline or something.”
Burton waited on the other side of the door. The door opened just far enough for Jeff to slip through. Burton pushed it closed behind him. Even before he turned the latch, Jeff turned to face him. He dropped his clothes and pressed up against his dad, wrapping his arms around his dad’s waist. Burton felt him panting, trembling with excitement. With one hand under Jeff’s little butt, and one hand around his shoulders, he scooped up his son. Jeff locked his limber legs around his father’s hips. They gazed at each other, both smiling.
“I love you so much,” Burton whispered. He needed to say it aloud in order to claim Jeff as his lover.
“Love you too,” Jeff murmured. He licked his lips. “You were listening, huh?”
“Mmmhmmm.”
“You angry?”
With no hesitation, Burton pushed envy aside. “So you and Kyle suck Joey, huh?”
“Mmmhmmm.”
Now, he was curious. “A lot?”
“Most Thursdays.” Jeff grinned, realizing he wasn’t in trouble. “It’s the only day he doesn’t have violin lessons after school.”
“What about your mom?”
“Don’t worry, Dad; we only do stuff while she’s at Confession with Father DeLucca.”
“She’s seeing him on Thursdays too?”
“Oops!” Jeff pulled himself closer.
He was so close that Burton could smell the sour scent of an uncircumcised penis. Likely, Trevor didn’t wash as thoroughly as he should. Still, he inhaled, thinking he ought to be disgusted, yet he wasn’t. It excited him, the same way that seeing Kyle and Jeff having sex excited him.
“She told you not to tell me?” he muttered.
“She made us promise, Dad.”
“Maybe you should go with her so you can confess what you and Kyle do with Joey,” Burton teased.
He wasn’t entirely joking. The possibility of listening to his twins having sex with another boy thrilled him. Ideally, the other boy would be Joey. He liked Joey’s quirky grin and constant questions, plus he was always hanging around as if he needed a male role model. Trevor would be fun to watch as well, because he was big enough for his boys to look up to. He would take the lead. Maybe he was so macho he would dominate the twins. That would be fun to watch.
Jeff grinned. “Mostly, I watch, Dad. It’s Kyle who’s like you. He really *likes* boys.”
Burton’s ears burned. His lips burned too, the instant that Jeff pressed his mouth onto his father’s. Jeff hugged and kissed, his whole body coordinated in erotic motion.
“Uhhhh…. Uhhhhh…”
It didn’t seem possible that a barely eleven-year-old boy could kiss and make sounds like that. Urgent and hungry, and offering his tongue, and taking everything his father offered in return.
Was there a taste unique to uncut boy-dick, Burton wondered? Every time his tongue slid into Jeff’s mouth, he was sure he could taste something sweet, or maybe it was leftover all-day sucker that Jeff had sucked on while they rambled though New Orleans at night. Not that it bothered him; he savored each wet hot kiss, every tongue wrestle.
Jeff was a tongue sucker. His lips wrapped around his father’s tongue, his breath hot and moist against his father’s cheek, his lithe little body trembling as passion poured forth.
“Ohhhhh yeah.” Jeff eased back, his arms around his father’s neck, hanging breathless. “I love you, Dad… I love you so much.”
“I love you too, Scruff… You are so fuckin’ sexy…. You’re beautiful.” Burton slobbered over his lips and pulled Jeff into another hug.
“You know it’s normal for a gay boy to do stuff, right?” Jeff looked up at his dad, wanton and shameless.
He had a quirky smile the same as Joey, like he knew what he said was funny and true at the same time.
“So I’ve heard.”
“Um… so what now?”
“Now? I need to make love to you…”
“I want you inside me,” Jeff whispered. “We should’ve done it last night.”
“You needed your sleep for the game.”
Jeff grinned. “At least we had our first 69, Dad… I mean without Fluff getting in the way.”
“Shhhh….”
Burton kissed him again. Their lives had changed the night before. After sucking each other to orgasm, he no longer worried about whether it was wrong to be in love with his son.
“I did okay for my first time, huh Dad?”
“You did great, Scruff.”
It was near 10 pm when they started. He hadn’t expected Jeff to go the whole way. In fact, he would’ve been happy if Jeff jacked him off at the end. However, he was hoping Jeff would take a little bit in his mouth, just enough to taste his semen before he spat it out. Instead, Jeff kept his mouth on his father’s thick engorged penis all the through his ejaculation, his tender lips clamped around the rim of the swollen glans. At the end, he emptied his mouth by letting it dribble onto his father’s belly. No wonder Trevor called him Dick-breath.
“Now what, Dad?” Jeff smiled, showing teeth.
Burton wasn’t sure where their relationship was headed. All he knew was that he needed to make love to Jeff. It was what a man did to a boy when he loved him as much as he loved Jeff. He carried Jeff across to the window, looking out at the busy street.
“I’m going to fuck you…” he said softly.
Jeff nodded. He licked his lips and pulled his father closer for another kiss. Even when Burton was first married, his wife never kissed like that. Janice was never so brazen, never so aroused that she grasped his cock and rubbed it against her cleft. He could feel Jeff’s ass rubbing against his cock, his strong little hand holding it in place. With flimsy boxers separating flesh, he was sure he could feel the boy’s taut hot opening.
“You feel so good,” Jeff cooed.
“My cock is hard for you….”
Jeff pressed down, still holding his dad’s erection poised at his hole. “I can feel him throbbing, Dad.”
“You want my cock in your ass, don’t you?”
“Can I suck him first?”
Burton eased Jeff onto the bed, watching as his son hurriedly dragged down his boxers, all the way to his knees. In amazement he watched his son’s growing delight, eyes wide and staring at the penis that made him. With a coquettish smile, Jeff went down on him. After a playful wet kiss on the tip of his father’s erection, his lips pushed back foreskin. Burton’s plump glans entirely filled his son’s mouth. He felt Jeff’s teeth scraping the rim, his little tongue swabbing spit, and rubbing around and around.
From the look on his face, Jeff might’ve been experimenting with a sour all-day sucker. He wasn’t sure about the smell, or the taste, so unlike his twin brother’s sweet flavors. It was so big it forced his jaws wide apart, certainly not a delicious mouthful like a boy his age. Even Trevor was tiny by comparison. It was off-putting to say the least. What made it worth the doing, was knowing it was his father’s cock he was sucking. He held the shaft with one hand, his other hand clutching his father’s huge testicles. He rubbed and bobbed his head, and massaged. Somehow, he already knew how to do it just right, like he came preprogrammed for cock-sucking right from his mother’s womb.
Watching his son’s head jerk rhythmically back and forth, sometimes twitching erratically was surely the most beautiful thing Burton had ever seen. His fingers caressed spiky, moussed hair, his thumbs stroking little ears. Sensing his son slowing down, he began to thrust gently. Suddenly, he was aware that Jeff’s hand was no longer holding the base of his cock. Jeff had a strangely serene look on his face, dreamy eyed as his father’s cock surged to the back of his mouth and slowly withdrew.
It was all Burton could do to control himself. He was finally fucking Jeff’s mouth, fucking it like a boy’s mouth was meant to be fucked. Deep, slow thrusts, shoving between his lips, past his tongue, grinding against the roof of his mouth until something stopped it. Damn, it was good; so hot and tight, and slippery. Even better, it was easy to see that Jeff enjoyed doing it as much as he did. His thrusts became faster, increasingly demanding more depth, seeking the tight confines of Jeff’s slender neck. Twice, Jeff gagged and forced his dad to back off until he got back his breath and could swallow a time or two. Only when it withdrew a few inches could he taste it. It was kind of salty, mostly slimy, not really a taste at all except for ‘Dad’.
It ended in a rush. Burton felt the surge in his gut, the tightening that preceded ejaculation.
“Cumming,” he gasped. He pushed at Jeff’s head.
Jeff wasn’t budging. With the first pulse, he pulled his father closer. He kept bobbing his head. He didn’t stop until his father’s cock stopped throbbing.
Shocked, Burton watched his thick goo ooze from the corner of Jeff’s mouth. Slowly, Jeff lifted his head and smiled at his father. The creamy trickle reached his chin. There had to be a lot more in his mouth. He waited, breathless until Jeff opened his mouth. He inhaled deeply, disbelieving his precious little boy could be so wanton. He could see it clearly, behind Jeff’s lower lip, a big white pool of paternal cum. There was so much he couldn’t see Jeff’s front teeth. Their eyes met as Jeff held it in his mouth, his tongue dabbling, pushing it around so his dad could see. In one go, he gulped all of it down, every last droplet. When he opened his mouth again, there was nothing inside except a little pink tongue. Unbelievable!
“You swallowed it…” Burton looked again to make sure. “You didn’t have to, you know.”
Jeff grinned. “I wanted to, Dad. It doesn’t taste *that* bad.” He licked his bottom lip, his finger swiping away the last of the trickle. He licked it off.
“I’m so proud of you.” Burton looked into his son’s eyes. “Winning the game today, that was cool. You were incredible…”
“But watching me eat your cum is way better, right?”
“Oh yeah.” Burton ran his fingers through bristly hair.
“It means I’m yours if your cum stays inside me.”
Burton wasn’t sure he’d heard right. It wasn’t the sort of thing a normal boy would say, even a gay boy.
“Where do you learn shit like that… I know Kyle goes to gay chat sites. Is that where you guys pick up stuff like that, right…”
He didn’t want to think about the alternative; that one or both of the twins were having sex with other men! It might not be such a bad thing for the twins to experiment with other men... He shook his head in disbelief that he’d even entertained a thought like that. Of course, it would depend on the man; someone like John Madison, for example. It would be fun to watch him with Kyle; Jeff, he wasn’t so sure about.
“It’s mostly Uranus he goes to, Dad. It’s a website for gay boys. Grownups aren’t allowed.”
“Good, but I still worry about you guys.”
“It’s cool! Alex and Andi run it. Mostly, it’s just them, but sometimes Damien and Philip are with them. They’re our age.”
“They say they are. You can never be sure who you’re talking to on the Internet.” Burton’s doubt showed like prima-facie evidence. He gave the standard warning. “Never tell them who you are, or where you live.”
“Stranger danger; I know, Dad.”
“You’re not using Java are you?”
“Kyle’s got it figured out, Dad. He setup our computer so it’s safe.”
The more he thought about it, the more he worried. “It could easily be some perverts.”
“It’s not like that, Dad. We talk about what it’s like being gay and stuff. No big deal. It’s not like Kyle and I do anything on the videocam.”
“Be very careful,” Burton warned again, knowing it would likely go unheeded.
Jeff reached for his dad’s hand and pulled him onto the bed. He smooched his dad, his tongue fully extended, sharing the intimate taste of his father’s semen. In a wrestling flurry, their boxers were tossed across the room. They rolled together, enjoying their new found intimacy, both bare, writhing and hungry for physical contact. Soon, Jeff was on top, splayed over his dad, rubbing adult crotch and boy crotch together.
“You think we can get him big again?” Jeff teased, jabbing his stiff spike into grownup gonads.
Burton polished smooth little buttocks, his fingers investigating the gap. It was hot in the crack, and moist. His wife’s flabby ass wasn’t in the same league, not even close. His son’s butt was firm and rubbery, each cheek exactly the right size to fit his palm with his fingers tickling in the crevice.
“You want your daddy to fuck you, Baby? Is that what you want?” he crooned in Jeff’s ear, though seriously doubting the possibility. He’d never achieved two times in one night with his wife.
Jeff nodded, twice, in case there was any doubt.
“Say it, Scruffy.”
“I want him in my hiney hole, Dad.”
“I want him in your hiney hole too. In a couple of minutes. I need to check my cellphone first.”
“Now!”
“Hey, I’ve been good about it this trip,” Burton remonstrated. “It hasn’t rung since… I don’t know when.”
“If anyone calls, they can leave a message, Dad.”
Burton slapped boy-butt, not too hard, just enough to leave a mark. “You little bugger! You turned it off, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t turn it off! I put it on silent mode. No one needs you as much as I do.”
“Huh?”
Though a clown in the making, Jeff glared down at him with a frown. “I’m tired of sticking a candle up my ass, Dad!”
“You want me to stick a candle up your ass?”
“Grrrrrrr!” Jeff’s growl morphed to a smirk. He reached between them and clutched his father’s semi-limp penis. “I want the real thing inside me, you dumbass!”
“We goes inside. We takes care of My Precious.” As a Gollum impression, it was near the bottom of the scale.
“That’s good, Dad.”
“Good is what I’m doing to your ass, Scruff, just as soon as I’m done checking my messages.”
“Fuck me now or wait till tomorrow!” Jeff chortled, still clutching grown-up cock.
“My, you’re impatient for a hobbit.”
Jeff cuffed him playfully. In an instant, his father flipped him on his back and clambered over him, keeping most of his weight on his hands and knees. Scrunched underneath, Jeff grinned back at him. He reached up and tweaked his dad’s flabby tits. He rubbed his thumbs on hairy nipples, amused by floppy flesh. His dad’s huge pale belly dwarfed his own lean abdomen. They were like a tubby walrus next to a sleek seal, yet he relished being underneath. He wriggled higher until they were face to face. He smirked at his father.
“Just remember I’m a quarter of your weight, Dad,” he teased.
“It’s been while since you weighed 65 pounds.”
“You’re 260 pounds! Sheesh, no wonder I’m getting squished down here.”
“For that, I’m going to fuck you so hard, they’ll hear you next door.” Burton allowed his weight to press down.
“I dare you,” Jeff squeaked as his father squashed him into the mattress.
Detective Burton pawed his son’s bare body, fondling, grasping, kissing, and licking, leaving a trail of saliva wherever he went. His sanctimonious wife never excited him like this. He was so aroused, his heart thundered. Domination was a powerful aphrodisiac. He couldn’t stop touching Jeff. He caressed Jeff’s wiry abdomen, his fingers grazing nipples, abrading tiny nubbins until they were pimpled. He tickled armpits, and toyed with ribs. His hands drifted lower, captivated by smooth satin, and soft velvet, and sleek silk, all mixed together into tactile delight.
Around Jeff’s belly button, the flesh was firm. There were lean muscles underneath. He extended his tongue and licked around, puddling saliva in the little navel. He was warm and tender, and responsive, cooing like a baby as his father’s fingers danced and pranced. He needed more, and writhed about so his father had no choice but to investigate his private places.
“You know, once I’ve had my cock up your ass, it’s mine from then on,” Burton rasped. He was in total control, unstoppable now that he had Jeff’s rigid penis in his grasp.
“Okay by me, but Kyle will be pissed.”
Like an orchestra conductor, Burton made music from his son’s body. He played the fat little cock like a precious piccolo, massaging plump boy testicles until their owner squeaked for mercy. His fingers followed the silken scrotum, down and under, into the hot moist crack. Finally, he prodded his index finger at the puckered hole. It was the final straw.
Lust exploded in a frenzy of urgent poking. Though he would never remember which finger he used, he shoved a spitty digit through his son’s puckered anus. When Jeff didn’t squeal, he applied even more pressure, forcing his way into the grasping passage, past the first joint, the second joint, until his knuckles wedged in the crack and he could go no farther. Finally, Jeff groaned, wriggling uncomfortably. Only then did he realize what he’d done. He didn’t just have his finger up his son’s ass. He could feel mushy heat right up inside him, the violated sphincter gripping firmly where his finger penetrated. It was tight, like his finger was being throttled.
“Damn, you’re tight,” he muttered, giving his finger a little twist to demonstrate.
He eased back an inch and shoved in again, even harder. He was certain his finger was as deep as it could go. He rotated his wrist, curling his finger to feel sleek smooth bowel. It was like putting his finger in his mouth. It was a hot, soft, pulsing tunnel, though not nearly as slippery. He pressed and felt around, searching for the immature gland he knew was within reach. However, an hour of Wikipedia research and a diagram of the male abdomen didn’t prepare him for the real thing. The cavern inside Jeff was beyond spongy. It was so hot and alive it was unbelievable.
“Tell me when it feels good,” he murmured. “How about here?”
“Ahhhh, still kinda hurts.”
He prodded near Jeff’s bladder hard enough that he squirmed. “Better?”
“Feels like I gotta pee, Dad. Move it some more.”
“Like this?”
“Yeah. It’s neat when you wriggle it. Yeah like that, only press in more. Mmhmmm. “
“You like me finger-fucking you, don’t you?” he cooed, pressing up as he rubbed steadily.
Jeff gasped, “Uhhhhh.”
“Yeah, you do. You’re queer, just like your oversexed brother.”
Already Burton’s finger was moving in and out easier than when he’d first inserted it. He began squashing against the rectal wall, poking up and down. If the gland was there, he couldn’t feel it. It would be tiny, maybe that little bump he’d just noticed. He pressed on it firmly.
“Ahhhhh.” Jeff’s groan ended with a confident push, simultaneously straining down to increase the pressure.
“That nice?” He pressed harder, flattening the bump as he rubbed.
Jeff exhaled suddenly. “Ahhhhh. Don’t, Dad.”
“Don’t what?”
However, ‘don’t rub’ had switched to ‘don’t stop.’ “Feels funny, right there,” Jeff mumbled.
Suddenly, he couldn’t breathe. Something pulsed inside him, making him groan aloud. He tried to shake his head. He needed more pressure. He tried to squeeze down to make it stop only he couldn’t squeeze hard enough. He shuddered. He nodded wildly. He twitched. He pushed down. His father poked hard and strummed. Deep inside him, it felt so good it hurt. He wanted to scream. Instead, he whimpered like a frightened little boy.
Burton stopped rubbing until Jeff got back his breath. “You liked that, huh?”
Jeff nodded slightly. He felt very strange, as if his body wasn’t his own. His father had his finger stuffed all the way up his ass, giving him unbelievable sensations. Only it wasn’t his ass any longer; his father owned that part of him.
“It was okay, I guess.”
How he managed to keep a straight face was amazing. The feelings were amazing. Having his father’s finger inside him was amazing. He wanted his father inside him, not his finger, his penis. That would be really amazing. It was all he could think about.
“You want me to fuck you?” Burton crooned, seduced by the power to reduce his macho son to a trembling little boy.
Jeff gazed up at him through nervous eyes, uncertain of everything except that. He was about to say ‘yes’ when his father wriggled his finger. Lust surged from confusion.
“Your cock… I want your cock,” he gasped, nodding like a bobble-head boy.
Burton smirked back. He heard desire, wanton and awkward, debauched craving burgeoning in his son’s mind as well as his own. He pumped his finger in and out, showing Jeff what was in store for him, still loosening, still seeking the tender node behind the boy’s bony pubis. His finger squashed into the barely noticeable bump every time Jeff nodded, back and forth, in and out, relaxing the hole as much as he could.
He hadn’t intended to do it so quickly. His plan had been to take his time, get Jeff used to every step, make sure he was comfortable with what was happening before they moved to the next stage. Everything he read online said to get the anus stretched to the point where the pain was bearable. Instead, he reached for the tube of lubricant he’d placed on the nightstand.
“Show me your ass, Sexy Boy,” he said, his voice so hoarse it didn’t sound like his.
Wide-eyed, Jeff showed his ass, so limber that his heels touched his ears. He locked them in place with his arms, his hands clutching his ankles. He looked back at his dad, removing the sealed cap and shuffling back on the bed, his attention now centered on the widespread crack and his son’s tight little anus.
“It’s beautiful,” Burton muttered, thinking, ‘it’s so tiny, but not for much longer’.
It was beautiful, like a budding rose was beautiful. It was a healthy pink hue, still virginal despite nightly forays with a candle. It came with finely rippled wrinkles, like little round lips puckered and ready to kiss.
Burton licked his lips and bent low. He kissed his son’s precious offering, reason questioning whether he could actually penetrate his son’s ass, Byzantine morality stridently insisting that he risked eternity in Hell. He knew he shouldn’t do it, yet some shameful, despicable part of him rose to the challenge. He squeezed a long bead of cold numbing gel into Jeff’s open crack, noting how the little opening closed up like an anemone.
“Cold,” Jeff complained. His nervous shiver didn’t go unnoticed.
“Not for much longer,” Burton said, already getting into position.
He guided his glans along Jeff’s crack, spreading his juice until he was certain that slight indentation was the target he was looking for. He pressed up against it. Jeff inhaled and let it out, his eyes nearly closed. He felt himself stretching down there. It hurt, just like he’d heard Alex say back in November. The first time always hurt. The second time hurt less. The third time was mostly itchy. The fourth time, a boy started smiling about it. After that, it was so awesome that he needed cock on a regular basis. That was at least one time every day, and more if possible.
It all came down to getting a boy’s body ready for sexual intercourse. It was Andi who said getting his ass stretched had hurt like a ‘bitch.’ However, it had to happen if a boy was going to enjoy being fucked. The boys on Uranus talked about ways to get through the difficult parts so it was fun. There were exercises a boy could to enlarge his anus and strengthen the muscles inside. The most important thing of all was not to panic.
“Push out,” Burton said softly.
However, Jeff had already pushed out, glad that at least one of them knew what to do. It didn’t help very much. No surprise there; his dad’s cock was huge.
“You know what Kyle said? ‘After this, I’ll be lucky if I can walk afterwards.’”
“He’ll get his turn,” Burton chuckled.
“You know he can put your big screwdriver in his ass with really trying.”
“The one with the black handle?”
“He takes the whole handle, Dad. I’ve still gotta stretch back there so it hurts like a bitch.”
“You guys really…”
“If you want to enjoy butt-sex, you gotta stretch it, okay Dad?
He didn’t add that Andi and Alex had demonstrated what was possible with plenty of practice.
His dad went back to pushing, not too hard, though it was starting to hurt by that point. He made a conscious effort to relax and tried pushing out again. There was simply no way something that big was going into something that small.
“Force it in, Dad,” he grumbled, suddenly of two minds about being fucked now that it was hurting.
He sniffled, promising himself he wouldn’t cry, steeling himself for unbearable pain the next time his father pushed.
Remarkably, Burton did something totally unexpected. He wasn’t even sure why he stopped pushing and started rubbing his glans into Jeff’s anus. Making him feel so good that he relaxed just seemed like the smart thing to do. Back and forth he went, working his plump glans around and around the hole, spreading his excretion, even getting some inside. The best part about not trying for penetration was that it felt nice for both of them. It was gentle and soothing, tantalizing sensitive nerves and restoring the desire to couple. It was only a minute or two before Jeff wriggled back to make it go in.
With a slight increase in pressure, Burton accomplished ‘mission impossible.’ He got the rim of his bloated glans just inside Jeff’s over-stretched anus merely by leaning down and letting gravity do the rest.
“It’s in,” Jeff breathed out, eyes wide in disbelief.
He could feel it, like a golf ball was stuck in his anus. It was huge and hot, and so tight it was burning. He wanted to push it out almost as much as he wanted it deeper. He was sure he was going to bawl if it went any deeper.
“You okay?”
“Do it! Do it!” Jeff insisted, afraid his father would stop if he cried.
With one hand on Jeff’s shoulder and the other hand restraining his hip, he rammed his cock mercilessly into Jeff’s body. After a liberal application of Anal Ease, getting into his son’s rectum was much easier than he thought it would be. It sort of plopped through. One moment, Jeff’s sphincter gripped his glans, holding it back; the next moment, something let go and instantly the strangling muscle was behind the rim, holding it in. All he could think about was Jeff’s boy-pussy squeezing on his shaft with each tightening spasm.
“Now, it’s in,” Burton groaned.
His son winced. “Definitely, don’t move.”
That first minute was truly unforgettable. Every tiny spasm, every heartbeat, every soft whine, every twitch went straight to their brains.
“You’re so fucking hot,” he breathed in Jeff’s ear.
Jeff didn’t know if he was hot, or not. He wasn’t sure of anything at that point. He was chock-full of cock, his bowels so jam-packed that breathing was an effort. If he didn’t move, it didn’t hurt; which didn’t seem possible. When he reached down between them, he touched where his father’s slippery shaft entered. It was unyielding, his ass stretched impossibly wide around it. However, what really surprised him was there was a whole handful of cock still outside him.
“You’re really big, Dad.”
“Probably why your ass feels really tight,” Madison joked.
It was hardly the time to be funny, but the sheer absurdity of it made it amusing. He had his cock stuffed inside Jeff, not playing tag with his ass, actually inside it. He was fucking his son for the first time. Not actually fucking, he needed to thrust back and forth for that, but he’d penetrated the boy far enough to relieve him of his virginal state. He’d finally staked his claim on his offspring.
“Kyle said it would fit okay once you got it in,” Jeff mumbled.
“Little know-it-all!”
Burton dared himself to withdraw slightly to see what would happen. He was sure his erection was stuck. It wasn’t. He felt his flesh move back until there was less lush mush. There was just as much heat, which was nice, though now it was squeezing through a taut band, grasping muscle that seemed to be trying to keep him inside. He pushed back. Jeff’s mouth opened in a soft whispery gasp. A muffled whimper followed.
“Too far?” Burton asked gruffly.
Jeff said something, but it was indistinct, or maybe it was just a groan.
“Hurting, Babe?”
“Kinda… Sore sort of. Don’t stop… I’m okay… You like it, right?”
“Yeah, I like it.” Burton withdrew slightly and pressed in again, deeper than before.
Jeff groaned as it slid into him. There was a pronounced ache somewhere inside him. It appeared out of nowhere, and he needed to rub against it. If his dad’s penis went in a little bit farther, it was push right on it. He looked down. All he could see was his belly, and his father’s belly. However, he could feel his father’s penis moving in and out slowly, steadily. It was a distinct rhythm, in, pause and inhale, out, pause and exhale. He could hear it, not exactly a slurp, or a slap, or even a splat. Anal sex made its own sound.
Again, he felt between them. There was less than a handful of cock outside his ass, which meant that there was nearly five inches inside him. Where it went into him was slimy, and it was numb around his hole. He touched his dad’s cock with the tip of his finger, trying to gauge how much was actually going in and out. It wasn’t very much, maybe an inch. The boys on Uranus said there had to be about three inches going in and out before it started feeling really good.
“I’m fucking you,” Burton muttered, full of pride.
“No shit.”
“Better not be any poop.”
He smiled down, his heart fluttering when his son smiled back. Jeff looked like he was concentrating on the sensations, if not actually enjoying his first time. It was enough to bring him to the brink of orgasm. He stopped just in time, about a third of his penis embedded in Jeff’s taut little abdomen.
“You doing okay, Scruff?”
“Mmmhmmm. Do it some more, Dad.”
“I’m trying to make it last,” Burton chuckled.
“Kyle was right.”
“Now, what did he say?”
“You wouldn’t make it past a couple of minutes the first time.”
He leered down. “You’re sure you want more, little boy?”
“I dare you to fuck me properly,” Jeff said.
He wanted to say he was perfectly happy just lying there with his father’s penis inside him. Yeah, his ass burned, and there was a kind of nagging ache, but it was still nice. Being fucked was cool, even if other kids made fun of queers. He felt so full inside, and he knew his dad really loved him…
Burton rose to the challenge, rising over his son as he began to thrust with a slow yet powerful rhythm. He was sure his cock was going deeper, sliding just a little bit easier each time he thrust. He saw surprise on Jeff’s face, his mouth gaping, his eyes fluttering. Something wonderful was happening. He felt closer to Jeff than ever before. Like father and son were one and the same. It wasn’t just DNA they shared.
Each inward push shoved Jeff up the bed. Each time he tried to pull back, Jeff came with him. They might’ve been stuck together with some kind of Super Glue. What if they couldn’t get apart afterwards, cock and boy-pussy permanently connected? They’d have to go around like Siamese twins, constantly fucking….
Seeing his father trying not to laugh was the last thing Jeff expected to happen. It made him laugh. It was the worst thing that could happen. At the most important time of his life, Burton lost control. Instead of a frantic surge at the end, semen oozed up his urethra and dribbled into Jeff’s pulsing rectum. He tried for a final flurry of thrusts to make their first time unforgettable. He managed a few desperate pushes before his penis slipped out and drooled its juice over Jeff’s wrinkled balls.
“Fuck!”
He was angry at himself, disbelieving it had come to end so quickly. He’d never experienced premature ejaculation before. With his wife, delayed emission was the problem. Sometimes, it went on so long, she pushed him off her, or his penis went limp.
He lifted up, profoundly unsatisfied, his softening penis dangling, a final creamy dribble leaking onto Jeff’s taut tummy. He breathed heavily, ashamed at what he had done to his own flesh and blood.
“We fucked for the first time. Pretty cool, huh Dad?” Jeff said, totally at ease.
“You’re okay with it?”
“Duh!” Jeff felt between them. “At least you got some cum inside me.”
“Sorry about making a mess on you,” Burton huffed.
“It’s cool, Dad.” Jeff reached up for a hug. He pulled his father closer and buried his face in a hairy armpit. “Mmhmm. You smell like nice, Dad.”
“You smell like a sexy little boy who’s just had his ass fucked.”
“That’d be me. You want to do it again in a while?”
“If you’re still awake. You want to hop out of bed and bring me my cell phone, Scruffy?”
Jeff slapped his shoulder playfully. “You’re supposed to cuddle me after we fuck.”