Dads 'N' Lads
Episode III - Cherry Poppin' Daddy
Story Code: Mb/incest/oral/anal
This is a revision of the original Episode III.
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Special thanks to Sam from the UK for inspiring the fairy tale.
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The barbell rises. The barbell falls.
"... 19 .... 20 ... fuck!"
Clunk. The barbell rests again on its supports. Keith Peake grunts, glad to be finished. He sits up. The weight bench squeaks.
"Fuck, that's enough."
He flexes, working out residual soreness in his chest. Keith mops his forehead with a towel. This afternoon, Keith's not wearing much. Nothing but a jockstrap for this man when he works out. Soaked with sweat, the pouch is plastered to his groin, creating an obscene bulge. Almost no detail of his cock and balls is left to the imagination. His massive meat and his gigantic nuts are shamelessly displayed to his two attendant sons.
Right now, those two sons are silent. Their eyes are fixed on the enormous amount of pubic hair, matted with sweat, spilling around the jockpouch. Their minds are foggy. Said fog is due solely to Keith Peake's manfunk. Hell, there are dogs fifteen miles downwind sniffing the air, tails wagging, little red rockets on display between their hind legs. Because a whiff of Alpha male turns everyone on.
We're in Keith's bedroom, which he fashioned from half the basement at 901 North Buck Road. There's a very large bed shoved against one wall. Two dressers, both with partially opened drawers. One of which shows Keith's clothes spilling over it. The other is empty except for a forgotten boy-sized brief. Keith's weight bench sits near his other workout equipment by the sliding glass door. There's a desk with a computer. You can see the patio, the back yard, and the Buck River flowing behind the house through the sliding doors.
But look at the walls. What kind of Dad would display pictures like these? Pictures of teenaged divers in skimpy Speedos. Tom Daley at fourteen is a popular theme. There are teen gymnasts in their too-short shorts. Teen iron men racing cross-country, big bulges blurred as they jog past the cameras. Euro boys at a beach, Speedos swelling with incipient manhood or, enticingly, slipping to show a sliver of butt. Candid shots of junior high wrestlers, straining, arching, wedgies leaving little to the imagination. A hard-bodied teen volleyball player idly tossing the ball and scratching his bulging groin. A huge blow up of a former teen idol, stark naked, pointing at an island in the distance, showing off a slobberingly tasty ass.
But this is Chatauqua County. Strange -- and damn fun -- things go on in men's bedrooms here.
"C'mon, Dad," says Chase Peake. He wears his trademark playful grin. Chase Peake is one of those guys who will always regard the world as his personal playground. He's here on earth to have fun. To entice you to share in his fun. "You're falling apart. Hell, you could do twenty-five a set a month ago!"
"Anyone ever tell you you're a bastard?" grins Keith.
"Yeah, you and mom!"
Chase is Keith's eldest son. He's seventeen. His ambition in life (today) is to combine surfing and pot smoking into a multi-billion-dollar Chase Peake-centric conglomerate. He's blond, like many of his brothers, but that's because his brown hair has been turned gold by the sun. He has a job as a lifeguard down at Harrison Pool. You couldn't say he's very good at it, since those few times he bothers showing up he mostly sits in the chair, sunning himself. Which gives the crowds much delight, because Chase Peake in swim trunks is one hot-looking teen stud. Chase's hair would fall well below his collar, if he had one on. Tanned skin like amber lies taut on a well-developed -- though not to his Dad's degree -- body. His body, fully visible because like his Dad he's wearing only a jock, is smooth, enriched only by hints of down between his nipples and below his navel. A scruffy surfer-style soul patch decorates his chin.
Let me be clear about Chase.
Let's stretch on the floor, our heads between Chase's shapely calves. Let's pretend we reach up and peel apart those hard teen buttocks. See it? The white straps should lead your eye to it. There it is. His pucker. Trying to hide itself behind a thin faun-colored dusting of hair. You're not seeing some dainty, virginal Cheerio. You're looking at a Peake boy. See those hints of purple as the pucker pulses? That pucker's been stretched. Been stretched by something huge. Yeah, Chase Peake takes it up the ass. But he's seventeen. He's at his sexual apogee. Though the surfer is burgeoning into skilled cocksmanship, he never turns down the right kind of manshaft. (Wink wink)
"Aaron," says Keith. "Beat the shit out of your brother, will you?"
Let's freeze frame. Aaron's just whirled and is about to hurl himself onto Chase. Sure it's unfair. But Aaron's fifteen. He lacks chase's stamina. Surprise is his only asset. Though with Aaron, goofiness is often a tactic.
In this frozen posture, it's not evident that Aaron's tall for a fifteen-year-old. Trust me. He is. He's a sleek teen, not bulky but very well-muscled. Observe his back muscles in mid-ripple as he reaches to tackle the surprised Chase. Aaron is pitcher for the junior varsity baseball team at George Washington High School. Like Chase, he's blond -- Keith's got a fetish for blonds and a working knowledge of Mendeleevian genetics (don't be flabbergasted; if you're a student of spunk, like Keith, you pay attention in biology class) so he knows which women to breed in order to produce the right kind of son -- but Aaron's hair is shorter, a shade or two darker, and wavier. Golden down frosts his upper lip. Yeah, the kind of down that traps vanilla ice cream. Or your sauce when you blow your load over Aaron's hungry face.
Soft and pretty as Aaron's lips are, let's check out Aaron's ass. His jockstrap shows the cheeks to perfection. They're damn near perfect hemispheres, two melon-shaped balls of muscle, now squirming with power as he lunges at his brother. It's a butt that's perfect for sagging, because loose trousers catch on their widest extension, and it's so easy to imagine easing them on down so you can cop a feel of those perfect buttcheeks. In his baseball uniform, working up to a fastball, Aaron's sweet butt is what you zoom in on.
Sweat gleams on Aaron's torso. Not a hair's to be seen. You might find some on his calves and, yeah, if you shoved your hand down his jock and hefted the kid's balls, you'd find pubic hair.
Aaron's goal in life? To get gang-fucked by the NBA. This has been a fairly constant fixation and is not merely unlikely to change but, given Aaron's nature, likely to happen.
Unfreeze the action!
Aaron crashes into Chase. The brothers -- technically, they're half-brothers, but bonds in the Peake household are formed by cock, not by cunt -- tumbled. Aaron hoots, because he ends up on top. Two jockstrap-clad sets of genitals strain against each other. Then Chase heaves himself up, twisting, and Aaron crashes on his back. Again, two jockstrap clad pouches throb. Aaron subsides. Chase stares down intently.
"You need to work out, Aaron," says Keith, massaging his own jock, watching his sons.
"I do! Get off me, Chase!" Aaron rolls his brother off. "I can beat you! Let me have the barbell, dad! I can do fifty," Aaron's tone is challenging. His tiny nipples spike hard. Yep, it's Keith's pungency that does that to Aaron. His jock is gray cotton, but it's sized for a boy, so his privates practically spill out. Bubble-gum pink balls and creamy white teenshaft.
And his pucker? Well, yeah, it's tiny. Not easy to see as it hides in his cleft, but filmed by sweat you'd imagine the small pink ring might taste like saltwater taffy. Maybe you could imagine Aaron, alone in his bedroom, struggling to stuff his pinky up there -- you know, in the way all teen boys do in private, as they explore their bodies, trying to find all the fun places. Looking at that tight hole, you'd be sure Aaron's face would show the strain as he worked his pinky in. Trust me. It's been plundered. Hell, Aaron's known for hanging out in one of the dugouts down at the high school, bent over, butt out, ready for breeding.
Something twinkles in Keith's eyes. Delight, or lust, or both. Teen boys do that to Keith.
"Well, hell, Aaron," Keith says, "If I could only press a hundred pounds, I could bench all night."
"Hah-hah," says Chase nasally.
"Fuck you!" Aaron yells at Chase. He looks ready to spring.
Though Keith likes watching his sons wrestle, he's got other things on his mind.
"Damn, it's almost dinner time. Come on, boys; lick your Daddy's armpits."
His two sons exchange grins. They love this post-workout routine. Keith sits on the end of the bench. The teens kneel, one outboard of each hairy thigh. Keith places his hands on the back of his head. Black hair tangles in his swampy pits. The two teens lean in, nostrils flared like a puppy's, and inhale.
A little drool escape from the corner of Aaron's mouth. "Mmm, fuck yeah, Dad!"
Tongues extended, Chase and Aaron dive in. Softly they lap at their Daddy's fermenting sweat. Boners sprout in teen jock pouches. Daddysweat is the Cialis for young boys.
"Good job, boys," Keith murmurs. His own jock swells.
Aaron, eyes closed as he nurses on Keith's sweat, sneaks a hand up his dad's thigh, cupping the big bulge. Chase follows suit, but he's slow as a stoner, and finds his -brother's hand beat him there. Playfully he slaps at Aaron's forearm...
"Settle down, boys."
"I want it, Dad," Aaron whines, caressing his father's jock pouch.
"Let your brother in there, Aaron."
Aaron lets Chase play with Keith's junk. He bringing his fingers to his nose for a deep sniff. Fuck yeah! Then he slugs Chase in the arm when his brother starts hogging his dad's balls. Chase, just to prove yet again he's the more mature brother, lets Aaron's fingers return. All the while both boys lap dadsweat.
"Fuck me, Dad," Chase murmurs, licking Keith's armpit.
"Fuck me, Dad!" Aaron cries plaintively, sucking on a tuft of hair.
Keith is pleased with the pigs he's bred. He's sorry he's going to have to disappoint them. "Not tonight, son. It's time."
The boys rock back on their heels. Eyebrows pop up. Eh?
"I'm gonna read Kevin a fairy tale tonight."
"Shit!" laughs Chase into his dad's armpit. "Kevin's eleven! You're gonna split him open, Dad! Let me have a crack at him first." His hot, steamy breath makes his Dad's chest hair ripple.
"Pop your own kids' cherries, Chase."
"Um. Dad," Chase murmurs, "I've been thinking about, you know, doing it with a girl."
Keith raises an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Yeah," Chase murmurs, still licking. "Make me a boy in her." He snorts. "Then fuck him!"
Aaron, also licking, sing-songs, "Chase is going straight! Chase is going straight! Ow!" Chase's elbow is sharp.
Pride -- no, no, that's lust, deep and animalistic -- gleams in Keith's eyes. "You picked a girl yet?"
"Curtis Yarnell's sister."
"What's her name?"
"Hell if I know."
"How old is she?"
"I think she's like twelve or something. She got tits, Dad, so she can drop a baby if I butter her cooze up just right."
Keith eyes Chase's pouch. His eldest son's cock is swollen, stimulated by all this talk about breeding. His kid's got a big bulge. Keith nods. Yeah. All Dads want that. A son hung like him. No, Chase isn't yet hung as monumentally as Keith's. But Chase is on his way. All those doses of testosterone are paying off.
Yep. Chase is on the cusp of manhood. It's right for him to be thinking about breeding.
"Listen, Chase," says Keith. "This is from a man who's done this. Twelve's a good age to pop a boy. Not as good as eleven, but hey, whatever. But I'm not sure about a girl. Especially if you're gonna breed her. Girls aren't like men. They're not fun. All serious. Even your Mom. Hell, I waited till your Mom was fourteen."
"Yeah, well, Dad, I'm not you," says Chase, defiant. "I like 'em youuuuuuung."
Snickering, Aaron sing-songs: "Chase likes gi - irls. Chase likes gi - irls. Oh!" Aaron's eyelids flutter as his brother's thumb stabs to the root up his butthole.
Chase, twisting his hand, leans over and hollers: "Young girls!" Then he looks up at his dad. "just for breeding."
Keith's eyes smolder at his eldest son. "I know. I'm proud of you, Chase. Get her pregnant!" He stands. "All right. That's enough. Good job, boys!" He ruffles both son's hair.
Wiping his lips, Aaron says, "Dad, can I fuck a chick?"
"You can if you can get it up for her, Aaron." Keith shrugs. "You can pretty much fuck anything you want. Though stay out of the damn watermelon patch."
"I mean, get her pregnant. Like my big, perverted brother here." Aaron elbows Chase in the ribs.
Keith, teasing, says, "Chase. I think your brother wants to watch you fuck this little girl."
Chase shrugs. "Whatever. But the only way he's gonna be able to get it up for her is if Sheriff lord stuff his meat up Aaron's asshole!"
Aaron nods. "Yeah. That'd do it!"
Even though it's fairy tale night -- and no Peake brother will deny the other the pleasure of their first fairy tale -- Aaron's still Aaron, so he's not going to give up that easily. He lunges for one of his Dad's nipples. Keith lets him. The fifteen-year-old, nursing on it, hums. His young hands caress his father's bulging jockstrap.
"Daddy," Aaron murmurs, "can I have some sausage?"
Chase, remembering a few nights ago, when the brothers watched an old movie, guffaws. "That's a stupid move, you faggot!"
Keith likes Aaron's teeth. They nip at him gently. Flashes of heat echo between Keith's balls and his perverted brain. Time for a reward. He slides his hand up and down his son's back, stroking his boy, moving ever lower towards the fifteen-year old's round, succulent butt. Aaron arches his back, humming excitedly into his Dad's chest, pleading for penetration. Keith's finger finds Chase's thumb and uses it as a guide. Aaron sighs.
Chase, staring at Keith's cock, says, "I swear to God, Kevin can't take that. Jeez, dad, you got enough cock for two dads! Wait a year. You popped Jesse when he was twelve." He looks sly. "You can fuck me if Aaron's too sloppy for you!" He twines his thumb around his Dad's forefinger.
"Shit," snorts Keith, fingering one son with another's help. "You took it when you were eleven."
"Yeah. But I was a big kid!" Chase's eyes go all dreamy. "You parked me and Curtis on the bed and did us both. Remember how he hollered?"
"He hollered," says Keith. "You moaned. And came."
"Eleven, Dad, eleven. Kevin is eleven. And he's a scrawny kid." Chase begins to probe Aaron's prostate along with his Dad.
"He'll be twelve soon. And he's not that small. It's time."
"The older you get, Dad, the more like me you get."
"Going after the youuuuuuung ones, you mean?"
Father and son share a laugh. Chase has a thing for really young boys. Like fourth graders. Keith's more focused on the pubescent boy, and the teen.
Keith pulls his finger out.
"Oh, come on, Dad!" Aaron barks. "I was just starting to feel it!"
"Chase, go pack your Daddy's bong."
His stoner/surfer son leaps up. "Sure thing, Dad!"
"Woo-hoo!" whoops Aaron. "Peake pot potluck! Please, dad, can I get stoned? Can I? Can I?"
"Aaron, you're short enough on brain cells as it is. Chase! Get it out of my stash. I don't want that shit you sell down at the school."
Chase mock salutes. "Sure thing, Dad!" Of course he knows exactly where his Dad's weed is stashed. He kneels at his Dad's dresser, pulls open the bottom drawer and lifts an unlocked metal box.
To Aaron, still nursing contentedly on his nipple, Keith says, "OK, do the other one, honey-boy."
Aaron gasps suddenly as his father's fingers return to his butthole. He pauses mid-shift. Looks up at Keith with puppy dog eyes. "Can't you screw Kevin tomorrow?" he whines. "I'm horny, Dad. I'm really horny." He hunches his butt back and forth on Keith's fingers.
"So am I, son, so am I, and the fact of the matter is I'm gonna pop Kevin's cherry tonight."
"Just a quick one? Puh-leeze?"
"Not tonight, bud." Keith palms his balls. "The good stuff's reserved for your kid brother."
"Awww." Aaron's lips close on his father's other nipple. Nursing happily, he forgets to keep feigning disappointment. His dad knows how to finger him.
Chase stands, holding Keith's bong aloft like an artifact retrieved from a Mayan temple. He has taken it upon himself to roll a joint from his father's stash and it dangles, smoldering, from Chase's lips. Red eyed, grinning like a moron, totally at peace with the world, Chase Peake is in his element.
Keith pulls his finger out of Aaron's butthole. He playfully pops the 9th grader on his round, smooth cheek. "That's enough, my honey-boy. It's time for Daddy to get stoned."
Chase passes lighter and bong to his dad. Swiftly the marijuana in the bong smolders into ash and fogs the air in Keith's bedroom. Keith passes the bong to Aaron, who kicks Chase's shin. Chase, grinning, trudges to the dresser, fetches the baggie, and hands it to Aaron. Father and eldest son grin stupidly, watching Aaron pack a hefty pinch from his father's stash into the cone.
"Where's my jeans?"
Chase guffaws. "Where you put 'em."
Looking around, Keith asks, "Which is?" A cloud of smoke, exhaled from Aaron's lungs, billows around him.
"On the bed, old man!" Chase snickers. "You need some Viagra, dad?"
"Not for Kevin. Hah. Not for anyone." Keith seizes Chase by the chin, pulls his son to him, and kisses him. Tongues sizzle between father and son. "Someday soon, you hot assed smartass, I'm gonna fuck you so hard my cum rums out your nose."
Eyes bright, chase says, "Ready for you, Dad!"
Keith pulls his jeans on. Too warm for a shirt. He doesn't like them anyway. He's a man. He should show off. His chest hair spreads wings across his broad pectorals. It's a sight that makes any kid's butthole squirm in anticipation.
"Well, guys," says Keith, "Time for dinner. Let's hope Jesse wasn't screwing around with the hamburger.
"Jesse?" snorts Aaron. "He's always screwing around. You know, he keeps talking on and on about his Marine boyfriend, but he keeps doing it with Ben Harrison and Sheriff Lord's son and anyone he can pick up down at the pool and --"
"What the hell is wrong with that?" both Keith and Chase say.
"Well," says Aaron, a bit wounded, "he's getting more than me, and he's only thirteen!"
"Peddle your sweet ass more, son!"
"Anyway, Jesse's kinda bummed out," says Chase. "That Marine didn't show up at the pool today."
Keith eyes Chase's bulge. "Maybe you oughta be nice to your younger brother and fuck his brains out."
Chase snorts. "He's too old!"
"Aaron!" Keith snaps. "Quit packing my bong and get upstairs!"
Aaron, whooping, lopes like an ape up the stairs. At the top he drops into a crouch, butt high, legs spread, the V of his jockpouch pointing right at his tight pucker. "Come on, dad! Come on, Dad! I'm ready for you! I want it! I want your big daddymeat up me!"
Keith claps Chase on the arm. "Lesson number one about breeding. Never get a retard pregnant!"
Keith follows Chase upstairs. He studies his seventeen-year-old son's ass. The teen's muscles dance beneath the skin. Nothing makes Keith's day more than teenaged butt, especially jockstrap-clad butts. Chase's butt is squaring up, becoming muscular and powerful from all the fucking he's been dealing out lately. It's turning into a man's ass.
Aaron's still in the crouch at the top of the stairs, back arched, ass high, eyes eager and pleading. Man, that's sweet ass. Round and sleek. Inviting. You don't just want to bury your cock into it. You want to kiss it, lick it, worship it. Fifteen year old ass. Keith's mouth waters, picturing himself licking the dried sweat from between Aaron's buttcheeks, peeling open the sweet teen flesh and plunging his tongue into his son's sphincter --
Must. Hold. Back.
Tonight's Kevin's night.
Keith issues orders. "You two get dressed. We're gonna eat soon." He trusts Jesse.
"Sure thing, Dad." Chase strolls towards the stairs to the second floor.
Aaron, in a stoned, horny stupor, doesn't move.
"Huh? Oh!" Aaron bursts into action, capering after his brother like a baboon, jockstrapped ass displayed as he follows his brother up the stairs. Both begin hooting madly.
From the ambient tumult in the front and back of the house, Keith can tell that his sons have divided themselves into two groups. Puberty seems to form the boundary.
From the front yard: high-pitched voices. Squealing, and cacophony. Keith picks out Seth's voice, his ten-year-old son, who doesn't live here -- yet -- but is spending time with his Dad this weekend because his Mom wanted a vacation alone with her new boyfriend. Well, he's in for an eye-opening experience. And Kevin, the eleven-year-old who's in for a treat tonight. The other voices sound like neighborhood friends. Deep, growling dog barks punctuate the mayhem and excitement. That would be Wolfsbane, their Rottweiler.
The deeper voices resonate from the back yard. There are fewer voices, and they're more focused. More intent. Keith guesses that Tristan and Gideon are tossing a ball. One of the neighborhood boys sounds like he's with them too -- and not too happy at being kept out of the game.
In the kitchen, Jesse works breadcrumbs and onions into a big bowl almost overflowing with ground beef. He's shirtless, and Keith's cock surges at the sight of Jesse's smooth flesh. Hairless armpits. tiny nipples, soft as chamois. You can even see Jesse's crack. His loose shorts have slipped down. this sleek thirteen-year-old son has been Keith's private temple to hot man/boy sex for quite some time now. The lad is amazing in bed. There's just something about the way Jesse wraps his legs around Keith's waist that says, Yeah, Daddy, I want your cock in my butt. Yeah, Daddy, do it deeper. Molest your son!
Keith musses Jesse's hair. "How's it going, Jesse? Ready?"
"Almost." He pouts. "I told Kevin to get the salad stuff out but all he does is give me the finger and go back playing!"
"OK, buddy. I'll fix that. You like your new room?"
Jesse nods eagerly. "It's great! Can Ben and Chris and Chris and, well, I dunno who all, but can we have a sleepover?"
"Oh yeah," Keith purrs. "You left some underwear in the dresser in my bedroom. Don't forget it!"
Keith marches to the front door.
"Kevin!" he barks.
Except for Wolfsbane, who's been far too overstimulated to give up chasing that motherfucking ball, everybody in the front yard freezes.
"Yeah, Dad?" Kevin pipes.
Ah yes. Kevin Peake. The son you've been waiting for, the virgin eleven-year-old target of Keith Peake's incestuous lust.
Pure boy, man, pure boy. But so close to pubescence. If puberty is north of and boyhood is south of the border, Kevin's feet have just wetted themselves in the Rio Grande. Kevin's body is slim, with clear hints of knobby elbows and knees. A whisper of sexy awkwardness has been injected here. Legs are a bit too long, but this only draws your eyes to his tiny bubble butt, hanging there at the end of his arched spine. Shoulders a bit too narrow in proportion to his waist. Again, this just forces your eyes to Kevin's munchable ass.
Kevin's the kind of kid that makes your breath whistle in your nostrils. Makes your feet paw the ground. Makes you reach for your crotch because you're throbbing hardon is about to betray your natural desires to the mundane people of the world.
Wheat blond locks are plastered to Kevin's forehead, right above his sleepy brown eyes. Kevin always looks like he's just woken from or is about to take a long, deep nap, but this is mere appearance. He's an active kid, even if he doesn't much care for organized sports. His ears are big. Big enough that, if you're a pedophile, all you can think about is what great handles they make for blow jobs. Kevin's lips are full, and he tends towards poutiness, and with that moist sheen on his lips any real man would naturally imagine his boyfucker forcing its way into the boy's surprised mouth.
Kevin wears a cowboy hat. Toy pistols are stuffed into plastic holsters belted to his jeans. His tee shirt is grass stained and sweaty. Sweat glues grass clippings to the back of his neck.
To say that Keith has eyes only for Kevin would be to lie. Keith is not a one-boy pedophile. His eyes roam. The neighborhood boys are mostly too young for him. But give 'em six months. Soon he'll be coaxing them inside. Seating them beside him. Asking them if they've reached puberty. Do they know what a dick inspection is? Keith smirks and spunk churns in his balls.
And then there's Seth. A brown-haired boy with heavy brows. Too young, but if he's going to run around the front yard just wearing swim trunks, well, damn, naturally any father's going to have unwholesome thoughts about the ten-year old's miniscule butthole.
The sight of Kevin's body fresh from play causes Keith's cock to swell in his jock pouch. But Keith ordered Kevin to help Jesse with dinner. It's hard for a Dad to discipline a son he's planning to molest later tonight. Two needs in conflict. But Keith's been here before.
A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do.
Kevin clambers up on the porch. His head cranes backward so he can look up at his dad. He catches his toppling hat just in time to screw it in place. He rests his palms on the butts of the holstered toy revolvers. He grins.
Keith slips an arm around his son's shoulders. Then, kneeling slowly, he slides his hand down Kevin's back. He cups Kevin's small, firm butt. Kneads it. Kevin giggles and squirms. Keith's gaze sweeps over the watching boys in his yard.
See that, guys? I'm feeling up my son's ass. You don't know it. You can't even guess it. But in a few hours something huge and hairy is going to be inside them!
Keith focuses on Kevin's sleepy eyes. "Didn't your brother ask you to get the salad ready?"
Kevin heaves a great sigh. "Yeah, but Tyler asked me to play and so me and Seth started and the other kids came over and --"
"Didn't I tell you to help Jesse?"
He scuffs the porch with his sneakers. "Yeah."
"You the sheriff?"
Keith slips a hand beneath the jean's waist. That warm flesh makes his nipples spike. Keith wants this boy. This son. A very nasty part of him wants to ease Kevin's jeans down right now. Wants to ram his kid while that flock of neighborhood boys, open mouthed, watches a man in perverted action.
"You and your brother are responsible for dinner this week, Kevin. Remember?"
Kevin scuffs his shoes, sighs again. "Can't we eat next week?"
"Sheriff's got responsibilities, son. Didn't Jesse ask you to make salad?"
"I'll make the salad, Dad."
Keith kisses his son's head. He also moves his hand up his shirt, to trail fingers lightly along the boy's spine. Kevin shivers with pleasure. "Good boy. I love you."
"Love you too, Dad."
"Run along, Kevin."
Kevin charges inside. His guns clatter somewhere. Keith stands and looks at the boys. Some very nice looking kids watch him. He'd like to give them baths before he sends them home, punctuating their bath with an admonition not to tell their parents about how well that nice Keith Peake washed their little dicks and butts. Keith smiles.
"Sorry, guys. Playtime's over. See you tomorrow. Seth?"
Young Seth trudges up. Keith lays a hand on the ten-year-old's shoulder and draws him inside. He's tempted to cop a feel, just like he'd done with his older brother. But no. Seth is ten. Far too much the boy. Keith has his own internal limits. He likes 'em pubescent, and Seth, no matter how beautiful his eyes are, is simply too young.
The two enter the kitchen. Kevin's crawled halfway into the massive refrigerator, seeking lettuce, tomatoes, onions and radishes. Jesse is almost done mixing the breadcrumbs and the onions into the meet. He grins at his Dad.
"You bet, honey-boy."
"Gideon said you were gonna read me a fairy tale tonight." Nose wrinkles. "Was he lying?"
"Nope. Gideon doesn't lie. "
"Cool!" Kevin yanks out a head of lettuce. Then, suddenly puzzled: "Which one?"
"Don't know. I'll just pick one." The bulge in Keith's jeans now throbs. Damn. This is going to be a special night.
Jesse, carrying the bowl towards the door, whispers as he passes, "Daddy, don't you break him when you do it."
Keith grinds his bulge against Jesse's back, pushes his thirteen-year-old son against the counter top, and wraps his arms around that succulent, sexy, beloved flesh. This sight doesn't much affect Kevin, who's lived here at 901 North Buck Road long enough to have become used to his dad's antics. But Seth's eyes bulge.
"Daddy's not gonna do that. Not gonna do that at all. You know me, honey-boy." Keith slips his tongue in his son's ear.
Jesse dissolves into a fit of giggling, pretending to spin away. Jesse also presses his hot butt against the firm rod in his Daddy's crotch, revealing what's on his mind.
"Do me, Dad!" Jesse whispers.
"Can't, Jesse," Keith croons. "Daddy's got a date!"
Kevin, watching them, grins while he rips up the lettuce. Does he know what goes on between his Dad and his teenaged brothers? Sure. Does he understand what it means? Does he know that today is his day? Probably not. Sex lurks on the periphery of the pubescent boy's consciousness like fog, something puzzling that surrounds him, beckons to him, but doesn't threaten. Doesn't quite register. A mystery he's curious about. But to the eleven-year-old, sex is intangible, abstract.
But not for long.
As for Seth, watching his big, muscular Dad plastered to Jesse's back, he's aware of a curious fluttering in his heart. Doesn't know where it comes from. Has no clue what it means. He watches with bright, curious eyes.
Keith examines the bowl of raw hamburger. The onions should've been chopped more finely, but fuck it. He releases Jesse from his lust-filled embrace.
"Start the grill. Don't blow up the house again."
"it wasn't that big a splosion, Dad!"
Fifteen minutes later Keith is grilling burgers, watching his brood cavort in the back yard.
The game is keep-away. Right now, Tristan Peake is streaking across the back yard, an old volley ball clutched to his chest.
Let's take time to ogle Tristan. Keith's black-haired son is fourteen. Tristan's no jock, which you can tell by the way he holds the ball. But Tristan's no flabby sissy. Hell no. Tristan's a dancer. Yeah, he's got one of those butts, which you can see because he's wearing an old pair of Calhoun Junior High PE shorts. A line of sweat darkens the fabric between Tristan's two pumping buttcheeks. Those teen buttcheeks are as round and smooth as a pair of balloons. Every muscle, still nascent but burgeoning, is deeply cut into Tristan's honey-colored skin. The boy's a walking paean to the glories of teenaged anatomy. Not a single hair mars his six pack. Not even a treasure trail descends from Tristan's navel. His thighs, if you have the balls to grope them, feel like satin-covered iron. If you slipped your fingertips under the hem of his shorts, you wouldn't feel pubic hair until you were groping the base of his teen shaft. Tristan's knees are grass stained. You might find a hair or two on his calves. He a pleasant boy, his face varying between a read-to-smile state and a full on, glowing expression that just sucks you in.
Gideon, his sixteen-year-old brother -- and probably the owner of those shorts, Keith thinks -- is churning up the turf behind him. Tristan is laughing hysterically. He turns away and -- boom! Wolfsbane, who's been charging across the back yard, leaps on him. Tristan tumbles with a squawk. The ball rolls away. Gideon scoops it up. Wolfsbane, tail wagging furiously, straddles Tristan, eagerly licking the boy's face. Laughing, Tristan rolls this way and that, trying to escape.
Now Gideon is being chased by Kevin and Jesse. Gideon, at sixteen, is a stud. He's in the George Washington High Junior ROTC and looks the part. His light brown hair is cut high and tight. He burns through fifteen bucks a week keeping it that way. He's short, compact, and muscular. A gym Nazi, he often spends at least an hour working out in GWHS's weight room -- emphasizing squats so his ass grows more and more like steel bowling balls -- then comes home and takes on Keith's weights. He's wearing his JROTC PE kit: olive shorts and a tank top. The tank strains to hold his pectorals. Gideon's got boulders, crowned by big nipples. You'd call them tits if the kid couldn't crush walnuts between them. His eyebrows are heavy, his eyes luminous, and together these give his face a dreamy, innocent look. Gideon knows this. He uses it to great advantage. Like all of Keith's sons, he likes to fuck. Unusually, he's a top. In most cases. Only Keith's ever been able to make the young stud give it up, and it had been a battle to get it done.
"Tristan!" Gideon calls. "Get off the fucking ground!"
Tristan wriggles out from under Wolfsbane. The dog leaps. His teeth catch on Tristan's shorts, pulling them halfway off. Sweet teen ass, white as snow, gleams in the evening light. Tristan gapes at Keith with a shocked look, then grabs his shorts and tugs them into place. Wolfsbane charges after him.
"Catch!" Gideon chucks the ball over his shoulder.
Jesse, agile and panther-like, snatches the ball from mid-air. He turns on a dime and charges towards the Buck River.
"You little sneak!" yells Tristan, whose fingers had just about been on the ball.
"Hah-hah!" calls Kevin, who is mixing it up pretty well with the older boys for a kid his age.
But Jesse, sticking his tongue out at Tristan, doesn't see Gideon. Gideon dashes in, seizes his thirteen-year-old brother, ignores the screaming, and hurls Jesse cartwheeling into the river. The older boys let Kevin recover the ball. Shrieking with delight, Kevin charges across the back yard, Seth and Gideon I hot pursuit.
Jesse emerges with his shorts half-off, grinning and cussing and shooting the bird at Gideon. Gideon plants his hands on his hips, puffs his chest out, rotates, bends over, drops his shorts, and elaborately moons Jesse. Jesse lunges for Gideon's asscheeks. Smirking, Gideon snaps his shorts up and struts off. He has to hold his shorts in place while Jesse frantically tries to rip them down.
No wonder I want to fuck my kids, Keith thinks.
After a hurried huddle, Jesse, Kevin and Seth team up to return the favor. Not easy. Gideon's a strong young buck. Tristan's his loyal ally. Whenever the younger boys almost have Gideon subdued, Tristan cuts in, hurling one of them aside and freeing Gideon. The smaller boys are unable to do anything. Then Jesse calls another huddle and beckons Tristan over. Tristan accepts whatever deal Jesse offers him which, Keith guesses from the blow job gestures Jesse makes with is fist, will be paid off later tonight. All four charge Gideon. Gideon, having lost his ally, squawks in outrage. Then loses. A boy at each corner, Gideon is hauled to the river and hurled in. the sexy sixteen-year-old emerges, clothes plastered to his skin, vowing revenge.
The game rolls on.
"Dad!" Aaron calls as he staggers from the house. "I think I'm too stoned!" He pretends to wobble. Falls into a chair. Aaron's still wearing his jockstrap. He has, at least, added a baseball cap, bill worn backwards. Based on the dried precum, he's spent some time hard. Keith guesses Chase has been petting his brother's bulging jock as if it were a young puppy.
"Well, then," says Keith, flipping the burgers, "maybe you shouldn't smoke so much weed."
Aaron leaps to his feet. "Smoke weed? Don't mind if I do!" He races into Keith's bedroom.
"Chase," says Keith, "your brother's retarded."
Chase has slipped on trunks and a tank top. He runs his fingers through his hair. Sweat plasters his armpit hair to his skin. "You just noticing this or what?"
"Chase, get my fucking bong from Aaron or he'll smoke all the pot in the house."
Aaron scuttles out of the bedroom, leaving the doors open, and shoots across the yard, emitting his traditional baboon-like hooting.
Chase passes the bong -- a fine piece of chrome and blue enamel -- to Keith. Chase takes over the grill until Keith consumes another bowl.
Now that Aaron has joined, the dynamics of the keep-away have changed. Aaron's goofiness and Gideon's intensity clash. Kevin allies himself to Gideon, hurling himself ferociously at Aaron. Jockstrapped teen and cowboy-clad kid roll in a tangle of arms and legs across the grass. Gideon darts through the cordon Jesse, Seth, and Tristan attempt to erect. He seizes Aaron by the waist and flings the chortling teen into the river like a softball. Aaron surfaces, shakes the water from his hair, and emerges. The soaked jockstrap leaves nothing to the imagination. He shakes water from his cap and screw it into place.
Shaking his head, Keith says to Chase, "Get some damn French fries going."
"Dad, I'm pretty fried myself. I may not be able to handle an oven."
"Yep, son, you are. But get the damn fries going anyway."
A cacophony of boyish shrieks rattles the back yard.
Trotting up the stairs to the kitchen, Chase calls, "You ever wish you didn't have kids?"
"Not since I started fucking 'em!"
Aaron's naked ass -- framed by his jockstrap -- shoots around the side of the house, a comet streaking for the front yard. He's still hooting like a baboon. The other boys charge after him. There's a few moments of diminished noise. Then the horde races around the other corner, Aaron either trips or fakes it, and suddenly there is a pile of boyflesh in the back yard, noisy and cacophonous. In all that wriggling mound, the only thing Keith can recognize is Aaron's jockstrapped ass. His mouth waters.
Chase returns down the stairs, bearing French fries.
"All right!" Keith bellows. "Let's eat."
A chaos of boys and teens descends on the patio table. Somehow plates are loaded with food, 95% of the ketchup squirted lands on burgers (the other 4% goes onto the patio; 1% streaks Aaron's naked ass). Everything is accomplished with no major injuries and no more than the customary amount of bitching.
"Kevin! Sit here with Daddy." Keith pats the bench next to him. He cracks the tab on a can of beer.
The eleven-year-old trots over with his plate and plops down. He stuffs a French fry into his mouth.
"Did you see when me and Gideon threw Aaron in the river?" Mustard speckles Kevin's nose.
Keith wipes it off. "Yep. You're almost strong enough you don't need Gideon's help."
"Yeah!" He thumps his chest. "I can whoop! His! Ass!" Kevin's voice echoes off the far bank of the Buck River.
"I know you can, son." Keith throws an arm around his boy, kisses the side of his head. Then slowly and lasciviously licks a trickle of sweat from behind Kevin's ear.
Kevin giggles, turns, pecks Keith on the nose. "What's up with you, Dad?"
A slow chuckle. What's up? Well, boy, it's between your Daddy's legs. "Just love you, son. Can't wait till I read you that fairy tale!" Keith's eyes blaze.
Beaming, feeling calm and at ease, Kevin presses up against his Dad. Keith slides a hand low, slips it under his son's shirt, and feels his boy's hot skin.
"When did you get a bath last?" asks Keith, sniffing.
"Last night," says Kevin. He pouts. "Do I have to take another one tonight?"
Keith inhales the warm musk rising from his son. Yes. The smell of innocence. His cock leaps. Pure boy. Sweaty, grassy. A call to mating. "Nah. Not tonight."
Aaron, still only in his jockstrap, smirks at them. There are grass stains on his face. He glistens with sweat. He's pulled his baseball cap around and the bill down low over his eyes.
"Daddy loves Kevin," he sing-songs. "Daddy loves Kevin."
Tristan, blushing, joins in. "Daddy loves Kevin. Daddy loves Kevin."
"Yep," says Keith. "Love Kevin to death."
The chant rolls on. Even Seth joins in, though he doesn't know what it means. Not yet. Kevin just beams. To him, this day almost feels like a birthday.
Keith snaps his fingers to get Chase's attention. Keith jabs a finger at Aaron, makes a ring with the fingers of his left hand, fucks his forefinger through it several times, then draws circles in the air beside his ear. Chase, who's feeding Jesse part of his burger, gives him a huge grin and a thumbs up. So does Jesse.
Illumination flickers in Aaron's bloodshot eyes like a slow, reluctant dawn. "Yeah!" He shoots up off the bench and rockets over to the grill, where the plate of hamburgers waits. He belly dances, thrusting his butt back. "I want ya there, Chase!" He jabs a finger towards his teen ass.
"He's got grass stains on his butt," smirks Kevin.
"Gonna have more stains than that, little bro," says Chase.
"Dad," says Seth, watching Aaron. "I wanna jockstrap. I wanna be like the big boys!"
Keith's eyes smolder. "We'll see, Seth. We'll see."
"What fairy tale are you gonna read?" asks Jesse.
"Yeah, Dad?" asks Kevin.
"Listen, guys. I just open the book at random. We'll all find out together." Keith pulls his son close to him. He strokes the inside of Kevin's thighs. "You'll like it, son. Trust me."
Agreeing, Jesse nods eagerly.
Evening comes on. The long ridges of the Appalachians loom on the horizon like giant humpbacks. As the setting sun turns the sky red and orange, they cast long shadows over Chatauqua County. Lights twinkle in Ellicott Falls. The royal blue sky turns velvet black. One by one the stars wink on.
The boys know their chores. Dishes into washer. Grill cleaned off. Trash bags to the dumpster. Pack Daddy's bong with the good stuff, not the shit Chase sells at school. Pajamas on -- for those of his boys that still wear them. Tristan still does, especially when he's trying to make his Daddy horny; and Jesse does sometime, although Jesse's beginning to spend a lot of the family evenings prancing around in the tighty-whities Keith insists his sons wear. If they're going to wear underwear, that is. Jockstraps, of course, belong in their own category.
Kevin? A pajamas boy definitely!
When chores are done the kids disperse. Chase, Aaron, and Jesse retreat to Chase's attic bedroom. The younger kids fire up the Xbox in the media room.
When Keith, having partook of his bong's bounty, enters the media room he has to step over Tristan. The black-haired lad lies belly down on the floor, grinding his crotch into the carpet, kicking his feet back and forth in the air. His fourteen-year-old butt is warmly caressed by his old, thin, tight blue pajamas. The seam up the middle divides each pert little buttock like a valley cleaving two hills. This indeed is molest-me posture. If it hadn't been Kevin's night, Keith would've eased Tristan pajamas down to his knees and stuffed his ramrod where it belongs. As it is, father and son simply trade looks.
Gideon, down to just his shorts, pads in behind Keith and piles on the couch. Young Seth joins him, worming his way beside his older brother.
"All aboard!" says Gideon, hoisting Seth into his lap. He slips his hand inside Seth's thighs and parts them.
"Hey!" cries Tristan, eyeing Gideon's bulge. "I want to play!"
"Gideon," warns Keith, "Seth's not on the market."
Gideon grins. "I know." He waggles his eyebrows and hunches his hips gently into the ten-year old's buttocks. "But someone's gotta keep a handle on him! Right, buddy?"
"Right!" cries Seth.
"No fair!" Tristan pouts.
Gideon's knees open and close, calling attention to his bulge. "Oh, don't worry. You can still play. Plenty of room down there. Right, Seth?"
"Right, Gideon!" Seth's head whirls and he stares at his older brother over his shoulder. "You got a roll of quarters in your shorts?"
Kevin waits by Keith's recliner. His pajamas are gray except for a blue teddy bear on his chest. They are definitely too snug for him. Keith's son has grown. The PJs are close to bursting, showing off -- though the sixth grader doesn't realize it -- his young form to Keith's pedophilic heart. There's not much of a bulge up front. But, damn, Kevin's succulent ass might as well be naked.
"You look nice, honey-boy," Keith purrs.
Kevin beams. "Thanks, Dad!"
Keith goes to the bookshelf. Turns. Stares at his son in his last moment of innocence. Kevin's a sexy kid. Keith wolf whistles. His hand closes on the special book.
"See this?" Keith displays the cover. It features a young boy, his hand clapped over his mouth in surprise, clear delight in his eyes, pulling open a man's swim trunks, looking down at the glory inside. It is titled A Boy's First Book of Porn Stories. It is very thick. The binding is worn.
"What's that kid doing, Dad?"
"He's about to learn something, son. Just like you." Keith enthrones himself in his recliner. He pats his lap. "Sit here, Kevin. Daddy's gonna read you a story tonight."
Smiling shyly, sucking on his thumb, Kevin climbs aboard. Kevin settles his round, firm eleven-year-old butt on his Daddy's crotch. Then he shifts to one side, a cunning look in his eye, leaving just his left buttcheek resting on Keith's mound. He reclines on Keith's chest, still sucking on his thumb.
"Comfy?" Keith's voice is husky
Nodding, Kevin asks, "What's that boy so happy about, Dad?"
"You'll find out in a bit." Keith breathes in the heady scent of his son; it reminds him of the scent of porter. His son, at Keith's favorite age. Eleven. Awkwardly sexy, a melon ripe to be peeled, and opened. Keith's cock begins to swell. He opens the book at random and thumbs to the beginning of a chapter. Ah yes. He remembers this one. He begins to read.
"Chapter 27," he reads. "'Kissing the Snake.'"
Tristan giggles. "This one's good!"
"What's it about?" cries Seth.
"Shh," soothes Gideon, gently stroking the inside of Seth's thighs.
"'Many years ago,'" Keith begins, "'there lived in North America a tribe of people who called themselves the Ganimeads but who were later called Indians -- the result of a grievous navigational error -- and then, after a successful search by a group of self-righteous pious do-gooders for ever more bland words, Native Americans --'"
"Boring!" hollers Gideon. "Ease up, buddy."
Seth, thinking he's being cute, levers his butt up, resting his head on Gideon's shoulders and his knees on Gideon's thighs. Gideon shucks his shorts. His eight-inch hardon throbs free.
"Gideon!" warns Keith.
Gideon eases Seth back into position, placing his brother so that his cock rears between the ten-year-old's legs. "See that? That's what you've been sitting on. Don't touch it! You gotta wait till you're old enough! It makes Dad mad if you touch it when you're too young!" He smirks. "Unless your name is Chase."
"Gideon!" snaps Keith.
Gideon shrugs. "Tristan wants to see it. Right, Tristan?"
The black-haired lad shakes himself, nods at Keith, goes back to watching Gideon's cock, throbbing against Seth's shorts.
"Read me the story, Dad!" cries Kevin.
Keith shakes his head at Gideon. A clear warning.
""The Ganimeads lived in a village nestled in a forested paradise, on the banks of a slow-moving river rich with fish. Their women were dutiful, cooking and cleaning, tending the maize and raising wonderful herbs for smoking. The men of the tribe were powerful warriors who wore long, narrow loincloths and brandished sharp-tipped spears. So powerful were the men of the Ganimeads, so strong their muscles, so daring their movement in battle, that no rival tribe dared to challenge them. The boys of the tribe were a wonderful lot, laughing and playing and running around naked without a care in the world, thoughtfully displaying their luscious round butts so that the men could appreciate them.'"
"They went around naked?" asks Kevin.
"Yeah. With men."
"No. Gideon's still a boy. Your Dad's a man."
"I got pubes, Dad," Gideon murmurs. His lips are very close to Seth's ear. The ten-year-old's eyes are wide and he squirms nervously. "I can shoot buckets!"
Keith admires Gideon's balls. Fuck, they're huge. Yeah. He's proud of his sixteen-year-old stud. "'Now there was a boy of the Ganimeads who would be named in our language Frolicking Puppy. Frolicking Puppy was a curious boy. He would follow butterflies to see where they flew. He would swim after fish to see where they wriggled. He would chase after snakes to see where they slithered.'"
"Frolicking Puppy?" Kevin frowns. "That's not a real name. What's his real name, Dad?"
"His real name is Frolicking Puppy. Now be quiet and listen. 'It so happened that what fascinated Frolicking Puppy most was the mystery of the warrior's loincloth. Why did these powerful men cover up that region of their body? Why was his exposed? Why was this separation made?
"'When he asked a woman of the tribe, she smacked him and told him he was a deviant and to quit asking stupid questions like that, couldn't he see that she was busy and why didn't he help her?
"'So he went to one of the elders of the tribe, a man who had won many battles. This man dwelt in great honor in a lodge near the river. Stone-n-Grass had long white hair and was very friendly to the Ganimead boys.
"'Frolicking Puppy asked him, "Revered One, why do the men wear loincloths but I do not?"
"'Now Stone-n-Grass, who smoked a pipe packed with the fragrant herbs the women raised, looked at the boy with sleepy, red eyes and, knowing full well the conventions of fairy stories, said, "I am but the second person in the chain. Go ask your father."'"
His chest tense, Keith gently strokes the inside of Kevin's thigh. The boy stirs. His legs part, inviting his Daddy's fingers to explore -- through the tight pajamas -- his young, forbidden flesh. Keith's eyes wander from the pages to Kevin's groin. Has his son sprouted a boy boner? Impossible to tell. The fabric has pulled away, the inseam forming a parabola between the boy's legs. No detail to see. But Kevin does sigh, relax against his Dad's hard muscles, and emit a sound like a cat snuggling down for a nap.
On the couch, Gideon snickers. Seth's eyes -- and Tristan's -- are fixated on Gideon's rearing hardon.
"You like that?" Gideon murmurs.
"Gideon," Keith growls. Seth is his property!
"I'm talking to Tristan"
Tristan nods eagerly. He gets to his knees, wanders between Gideon's knees -- and Seth's feet -- and gazes rapt at the sixteen-year-old's cock.
"Come on, Dad!" Tristan calls. "Get it moving!"
"'So Frolicking Puppy went to his father, who that day stood watch at the outskirts of the village. His father was a big man, well-muscled, with a strong chest and big arms. His name was Pungent Buck. Pungent Buck always smelled like the sweat lodge. Frolicking Puppy had noticed many of his little friends would get stiff and salute his father's power with the finger between their legs whenever they were within the arena of his father's scent. The same often happened to Frolicking Puppy, and it did so now.
"'"Father," Frolicking Puppy asked, "why do you wear a loincloth but I run around naked?"
"'"Mostly," said Pungent Buck, also smoking a pipe, "because the men of this tribe like looking at naked boys."
"'Frolicking Puppy frowned, concentrating on his father's words. There was something elusive here. He felt like he was down at the river, trying to catch one of the shimmering reflections of the sun on the water with his hands. "So ... how do I become a man?"
"'"Well, son, for many moons have I waited for you to ask me this question." Smiling down at his son, Pungent Buck reclined on the soft grass there at the edge of the village, raising himself up on his elbows. His loincloth lay, almost to his knees, between his legs. "Now, young one, in order for you to become a man, you must kiss the Secret Snake and drink its venom. Only in that manner can you become a man and wear the loincloth of your father." "'
In his jeans, Keith's dadcock reaches full extension. But not yet full hardness. Kevin squirms on his Dad's lap. Keith eases a hand beneath his son's pajama top, feeling his boy's belly. Kevin glances up, a bit tense suddenly, almost ready to burst out giggling -- but he realizes something different is going on. Sees something in Daddy's eyes. Daddy isn't going to tickle him. Daddy's going to do ... something else.
"Feel good?" Keith croons softly in his son's ear.
Gideon, stroking his brother Tristan's hair, snickers again. He's heard that line before. Tristan, eyes gleaming, stares at his brother's cock. He moistens his lips.
"Yeah, Dad," says Kevin.
Seth chimes in. "Dad! Are you gonna read the story or not?"
"'Now, young one, in order for you to become a man, you must kiss the Secret Snake and drink its venom. Only in that manner can you become a man and wear the loincloth of your father.'
"'Frolicking Puppy clapped his hands and leaped up. "I know where there's a huge den of snakes!" He was about to dart off when his father's command stopped him.
"'Pungent Buck shook his head. Poor boy. He must learn! Pungent Buck had seen visions, induced by the herb, of his son being forced to ride what would one day in the future be called the 'short, yellow school bus.' As a father, he must not let this fate befall his son.
"'"No, no, son," said Pungent Buck. "This is a game. I want you to crawl under your daddy's loincloth. The snake hides there."
"'This seemed reasonable, even fun, to Frolicking Puppy. He crouched down between his father's knees, lifted the loincloth, and placed it over his head. Sure enough, the boy was in a dark den. And the smell! He became so stiff between his legs he could have made countless burrows for the worms with his stiff boyfinger.
"'"Now, son," said Pungent Buck, puffing on his pipe and gazing down with red, sleepy eyes at his son's head beneath his fatherly garment, "crawl forward under my loincloth. You will find the snake and the snake will find you."
"'This Frolicking Puppy did. It was dark under his father's loincloth, and the space was narrow like a tunnel, but the man's powerful muscles comforted the curious boy. Frolicking Puppy crawled forward. And there it was! He felt it on his face, pressing against his lips. "Found it, father!"
"'"Yes, son, I know," said Pungent Buck. "Now, you must kiss the snake."
"'Since the odor rising from Pungent Buck's crotch caused Frolicking Puppy's mouth to water, this seemed the right thing to do. Hoping there were no teeth, he popped the snake into his mouth."
Upwards Keith's fingers seek, moving like a kitten's breath across Kevin's chest. His goal: his son's nipples. Kevin begins squirming. Suddenly he sits up and looks down at Keith's lap.
"What's in your pants, Dad?" Kevin's buttcrack straddles his Daddy's hardon, throbbing and full of life in the jeans.
"It's your Daddy's secret snake," purrs Keith.
"You got one too?"
"All men have one. Now lay back and let me finish this story."
A good boy, Kevin does what he's told. Keith's gentle fingers continue to pleasure his son while he reads.
"'"That is very nice, son," said Pungent Buck, leaning back, puffing on the pipe, and spreading his legs even wider. "Now, the snake will get stiff, and it will try to fight you! So you must hold onto it with both your hands and never let it out of your mouth, because you must kiss it until it gives you its venom."
"'And so it happened as Pungent Buck described. The boy was diligent, and faithful, and obeyed his father's commands in every regard. The snake grew and grew, seeming to want to thrust Frolicking Puppy out of the dark cave. But the boy was clever, opening his mouth wider so that the snake could go deeper into him. And as the snake stiffened it seemed to want to rear upwards and break through the roof of the burrow, so Frolicking Puppy was forced to wrestle it with both hands.
"'Pungent Buck lay there, with his face toward the boundless sky, and he gave thanks to all the spirits -- of the forest, of the river, of the glorious and eternal sun -- for a son with lips such as Frolicking Puppy's.
"'Then he heaved a great sigh, and seemed to choke, and then a slow smile spread across his relaxed face.
"'The snake gave up its venom to Frolicking Puppy, spitting up an entire mouthful of it. The curious boy savored it with his tongue. Yes, it was bitter, and it was strange, but it did not hurt him as he expected venom to do. It did not burn him at all. It was powerful. It was like a seed, Frolicking Puppy decided. Or maybe like the water one poured upon a seed. It was something that made something else grow, become, change.
"'Frolicking Puppy withdrew from the warm haven between his father's legs and under his loincloth. Swallowing the venom, which was warm, milky, and wonderfully agreeable, Frolicking Puppy said excitedly, "So now I'm a man, father?"
"'Pungent Buck now lay back, cradling his head on his folded arms."Not yet, Frolicking Puppy, not yet. You'll need to kiss the snake many times. And, when you're a little older, just a bit older, I think, the snake may need to find a new burrow."
"'In awe, Frolicking Puppy said, "Where will the snake burrow, father?"
"'"In your butt, Frolicking Puppy. In your butt. Only then may you don the loincloth. Now run play!"
"'And off Frolicking Puppy ran, to join his friends, to chase the fish, to race the butterfly, to boast that he too would -- just as soon as the Secret Snake deigned to burrow up his butthole -- wear the loincloth, to spread the word of the secret his father Pungent Buck had between his legs.'"
Keith closes the book. "The end. What did you think, Kevin?"
His boy looks up at him, nose wrinkled. "Secret snake. Was Frolicking Puppy sucking the man's cock?"
Keith ruffles Kevin's hair. "Yep. That's what he was doing, tiger."
"That makes a boy a man? Sex? What you and Jesse and Chase and all my brothers do?"
Distantly Keith hears bedsprings squeaking. Chase. That'd be him at work. The boy likes to hammer a hot butt. Keith pictures Jesse flat on his back, legs upraised and spread, Aaron pumping between them, and Chase plastered to Aaron's back, stoned out of his mind, tongue hanging out, all three of them pumping away, hot for each other, dissolved into the fuck as only teenagers can be.
"Sex makes a boy a man, Kevin." Keith strokes his son's nipples, tiny nubs beneath his rough fingertips. He brushes them lightly and Kevin's butt squirms on his cock. "Do you want to be a man, son?"
Kevin's head wheels around and he locks eyes with his Dad. "Are you going to take me to your room, Daddy? Like you did with Jesse?"
"In a minute." Keith glances to the couch. "Did you like that story, boys?"
Slack jawed, breathing hard, Gideon murmurs, "I did, Dad. I think Seth did, too. Right?"
Seth says nothing. A long strand of precum has leaked from Gideon's cock and lies coiled on his shorts. He stares at it.
"You want to kiss my snake, Tristan?" asks Gideon.
Tristan seizes Gideon's cock, levels it, and stuffs half of it down his throat. The fourteen-year-old begins nursing. Gideon coos and sighs and his hands draw cursive patterns on Seth's thighs. The ten-year-old stares between his parted legs, watching his brother's head bob between them.
"Don't touch Seth," Keith reminds Gideon. "Dad goes first."
"This is just --" Gideon gasps. "-- a demo. Right, Tristan??"
Tristan moves into a crouch, his taut ass pointed directly at Keith's recliner. He seems to be inviting his Dad to join in the fun.
But not tonight.
Keith nuzzles Kevin's neck. "Kevin? You ready?"
Kevin's seen similar scenes play out before. It seemed weird, at first, right after he moved in from his Mom's, watching his Dad and his brothers put things into each other's bodies. But he got used to it. Getting used to it is now Seth's thing. And now, with soft currents of pleasure tingling his nerves, Kevin is eager to join in.
"Daddy's gonna make love to you, son," Keith croons.
Kevin shivers. Kevin is squirming, rolling his hot, young, unfucked butt back and forth on Keith's big dadshaft.
Gideon's grinning stupidly -- not because he's stoned but because of the sensation of Tristan's lips on his cock. He runs his fingers through his brother's black hair. "Yeah. Go on, Kevin. Go with Daddy. He's gonna make you feel good." His lips curl into a snarl and he starts pumping his brother's mouth.
"Hey, Kevin," Keith breathes in his son's ear. "Let's go down to Daddy's bedroom. And see what kind of fun we can have."
"Yippee!" Kevin leaps up. His pajamas pull tight, exposing a little penis, leaping and frolicking like -- like a very happy, young, Native American boy. Yeah. Whatever's about to happen -- he's eager for it.
"Hey, Seth, let me put you over here!" Gideon grunts as he lifts Seth off his lap and sets the kid on the couch. He stands. Tristan doesn't miss a beat. Soft slurping echoes through the media room. Gideon turns in profile, showing off his spit-dripping cock to Seth. "Now. Watch me mouthfuck my bitch!"
Tristan's chortle is muffled as Gideon's cock drives in to the root. His eyes roll happily when Gideon's balls slap against his chin. Seth's jaw drops.
Keith takes Kevin's hand. "Let's go, son. Let's go have sex!"
Keith throws Kevin over his shoulder. Kevin erupts with peals of laughter. Keith's solid dadcock, throbbing down his thigh, raises a gargantuan tent in his jeans. Gideon, savoring Tristan's soft lips, shoots his dad a thumbs-up as Keith carries the eleven-year-old boy downstairs.
"Daddy!" Kevin giggles at the bottom of the stairs. "Your room always smells!"
"That's my sweat," Keith growls. And my weed. Jesse's butt. And my jizz. But you're about to learn that.
Keith plops Kevin on the bed. The boy's eyes roam all the posters Keith has on his walls.
"Who are those boys?"
"Don't know all of 'em." Keith points to one: a hot youth in a speedo, standing in front of a Singapore 2008 banner, casually showing off his smooth armpits. "That's Tom Daley. He's a really sexy diver." He winks. "I think he's been doing it with men for a long, long time!" To another diver in a Speedo, standing atop a diving platform, hands upraised, showing a nice bulge and shapely thighs. "Steele Johnson." And another; "That's a boy in Jesse's class. Victor." Woof. Victor Franco gets Keith's blood boiling.
"And that guy?"
"Dunno. I got that pic off tor."
"That's where illegal stuff goes on the internet."
"Men fucking boys."
"Why's that illegal?"
''Cause we live on the Planet of the Morons," grins Keith. He sits on the bed and puts his arm around his son. He nuzzles Kevin's cheek. "You ready to play, son?"
Kevin nods eagerly.
Keith pats the mattress. "Lay down on your side."
Kevin props his head up with his little fist. His father lies opposite him. Only a foot separates them.
"Sex," says Keith, quiet and sincere. "We're gonna have sex, Kevin. Me and you. Dad and son. Man and boy. Yep, that's right. Your Daddy is gonna fuck you. I know that sounds strange to you. Does it?"
"Do you know what sex is?"
"Is it what you a Chase do? And you and Aaron do? And isn't it what Frolicking Puppy did with Pungent Buck?"
"Yes," croons Keith, stroking his boy's thigh. He feels tension. Quivering. Not fear, but anticipation. "That's sex. Sex is a man making a boy feel good. Do you like to feel good, Kevin?"
"Yeah, Daddy, I do!" He giggles. "You're hands are making my wiener hard!"
"Is that right, son? Is that right?" Keith slides his fingertips along Kevin's thighs toward his crotch. The cotton pajamas are smooth and warm. There it is, outlined in the pajamas. "Yeah. You are hard. I'm gonna touch your dick, Kevin. Daddy's going to touch your little dick." He strokes it. Dad touches son's dick. Hot. Hard. Alive. Wow. His son's hardon, throbbing against the fabric. Keith lives for this kind of heart-stopping moment, when forbidden things happen. His boy is turned on. Primed. Hot and ready for what's to follow.
Kevin gasps. He lies passively, staring intently at his Dad.
"Wowwee Kevin. You're really hard. You got stiff when I read you the fairy tale, didn't you?"
"It feels big." Keith swallows. Kevin's stiffie is having a narcotic effect on him. It's this feeling, this powerful electric surge that takes over Keith's body, that makes him chase boy after boy, son after son. "Now let your daddy put his hands down your pajamas. Promise not to tell?"
"OK, Daddy, I promise!"
Smiling faintly, Keith slips his hand below the elastic waistband, crossing a glassy plain of smooth boy flesh into his son's briefs. It feels like he's stuffed his hand into a steamy glove. His boy is hot there. And so smooth, so smooth where men and teens are thick and hairy. Keith's fingertips don't even find the first suggestions of down. Kevin's all boy where it counts. And isn't that what any pedophile father wants to find when he finally molests the son he's been lusting after?
"Let me touch your dick, son. Let Daddy touch your dick. Mkay?"
Kevin's hot boydick quivers under Keith's palm. Every muscle in Kevin's body is tense. The lad quavers like a rung gong.
"Does that feel nice?" Keith whispers.
Keith strokes his son's dick gently, running his fingertips along it, from the straining little tip down to the base, savoring how it throbs, how it bounces. It's no thicker than a Vienna sausage. It's no longer than two. Yet, even so small, it marks Kevin out as a male.
But that's not the limit to Keith's forbidden geographic expedition. He continues south, and is rewarded with a palmful of satiny boy sack. Kevin draws back, maybe fearing his dad might squeeze him there. Might hurt him. But as Keith's magic fingers stroke him and caress him, his tension fades.
"Yeah," Keith breathes, "does it feel good, Kevin? Do you like it when Daddy touches you there? "
Deep into a highly perverted spell, Keith licks his lips. "Tell me something. You ever let anyone else touch you here?" He draws a tiny circle on his son's dick, watching his son's eyes scrunch shut.
"No, Daddy." Shyly, Kevin looks down. At that big bulge his Daddy's hand makes in his pajamas. It looks like a big tarantula's burrowed into his underwear. Biting his lip, he meets his Dad's eyes. "But I think about it a lot!"
"Good boy. Help me take your shirt off, son."
Kevin sits upright and raises his arms. Keith takes Kevin's pajama shirt by the hem. He kisses Kevin softly. "I love you, boy, and I won't hurt you. Daddy wants to make you feel sooo good." He pulls his son's pajama shirt up and off. He guides his son back down into a reclining position. Running his hands over Kevin's smooth skin, Keith pays special attention to the boy's nipples, which spike up even though Kevin squirms a bit. The attention Keith lavishes on Kevin's nipple inspires the boy. He reaches out and searches through the fur on Keith's chest. The little boy finds the man's nipple. Keith sighs.
"Does that feel good, Daddy?" Kevin asks coyly.
"Fuck yeah kid, it does." And, like the secret snake in Pungent Buck's loincloth, Keith's cock surges. It tears its way out of the leg and thrusts out of his jeans. Six inches of naked dadshaft quiver above the waistband.
Kevin stares. "You got a huuuuuuuuge dick, Dad!"
"I know. Now. Look at your body, son. Not your daddy's cock. Yeah, I know it's hard, but do it, son. Do it. Yeah. See, son? You're smooth. Your chest is smooth, your arms are smooth. Even your armpits are smooth. Mmmm. Daddy likes that! Makes my dick hard, boy!"
"Not my armpits! Don't touch me there!" says Kevin, trying not to giggle.
"Not yet," breathes Keith. "Now look at me, son. Look at your Daddy!"
Kevin's eyes travel slowly over his father's chest, taking in that Mirkwood of hair. On and on they go, wandering over Keith's big pectorals. Then over the flat belly until, at last, Kevin stares at the gigantic dadcock, emerging from those jeans like a python slithering from its lair. A gasp escapes the boy.;
So what impresses the boy? What's burning in his brain as the difference between a son and a dad?
"It's big, Dad! It's real big. And you got so much hair!"
Keith chuckles. "Yeah I do. You've been looking at my chest hair a lot, I know. But there's more hair. Somewhere else."
"Well, son. Unbutton my jeans and I'll show you."
Biting his lip, Kevin undoes the fly on his Dad's jeans. The denim falls open. Keith helps, shucking his jeans down to his knees, revealing his cock, rearing out of his jockstrap.
You can't miss Keith's erect dadcock. You can't miss that gargantuan breeder. Rock hard, greasy, thick, crude, powerful, potent, it juts out the top of his pouch. Armthick. Vein-webbed. Throbbing in the face of a sixth grade boy. Keith is proud of his footlong boyfucker. He lives to show it off. Seeing the awe glowing on Kevin's face, he grins. He tugs down his jock, hooking the waistband beneath his fat balls. He seizes his ramrod by the base and aims it towards his son.
Kevin stares at his dad's huge nuts, pulled tight against that thick, throbbing dadcock.
"Can I touch you, Dad?"
"Yeah, boy. Touch your Daddy."
Kevin reaches out a quavering palm and cups one of Keith's nut. The huge sack spills over.
"You know, you used to be in one of them. You used to live in your Daddy's nuts, Kevin."
Kevin's other hand grasps Keith's shaft. The boy tries to move it. Tries to wrest it out of Keith's own grip. But the massive scepter doesn't move. The spunk cannon is aimed right at Kevin's navel.
"I shot you out of my cock. I bred your mommy and I made you, Kevin."
Kevin's moist eyes shine up at his Dad's.
"Now smell it. Smell your Daddy's dick, son!"
Kevin bends. Sniffs tentatively. The odor? Old sweat, rancid piss, and something fiery that Kevin seems to have always subliminally known, has always yearned for, something like a home he's never been too but is somehow familiar with. The odor of raw man crotch makes the youngster's head spin. It hits the boy right in his gullet. He grins up at his Dad.
"Smell good?" asks Keith.
"Hell yeah!" Kevin looks sly. "Can you make me feel even better?"
"Oh yes I can, son. Yes, your Daddy can." Keith's cock leaps, whipping a line of precum over his belly. "Lay on your back."
Kevin flings himself onto his back. He watches his Dad move to straddle him. His eyes flick from Keith's face to that enormous shaft. A warm feeling suffuses Keith. Not lust. Love. He loves his boy. He loves his son. It's time for him to learn that life is all about ... pleasure. Sex. Hot unslakeable dad/son lust. Once again, mesmerized, Keith runs his fingers along Kevin's little dick, grinning as his son's toy bounces just like his Dad's, eager to be freed from those fucking pajamas.
"Raise your butt, Kevin. I'm gonna take your clothes off."
Young, tender, Kevin's eyes are warm with trust and bright with curiosity. The boy arches his back. Smoothly Keith draws down his son's pajamas and briefs. There it is. His boy's dick. Hard, alabaster white, crowned with a pink gumdrop. Kevin's dick is dry and hot and stiff enough to make many burrows for many worms. He's not even leaking precum. Yeah. Kevin's a boy. No purpose in life but to feel pleasure.
"Lift your feet."
Keith flings pajamas and boxers across the bedroom. He crouches low over his boy, his lips just millimeters from Kevin's moist pout. "You're almost a teen. Remember. In this house teens wear briefs, or jocks -- or nothing."
Kevin giggles. "Seth wears boxers."
"Not for much longer." Keith's voice is thick. "Spread your legs."
"Spread your legs for Daddy. I want to lay down between 'em."
Kevin obliges. Keith leaves a trail of light kisses down his son's chest and belly, hinting at what's to come. The sensation's almost too much for young Kevin. The kid laughs and squirms -- especially as his dad's tongue paints spit around his belly button.
Keith hovers just above his son's small nuts, taking in the view, breathing in the sweaty smell of a young aroused boy. His son's nuts are marbles tight in a doeskin sack. Keith inhales. This is a scent to savor. His son bathed last night, but over the intervening day he's played, he's sweated, and by God he smells fucking awesome. It's a subtle musk but it's better even than weed. It's nothing like a man's pungency. Boy perfume. Warm milk, hint of grass, and yes, piss. Keith's mouth waters.
Kevin's ballscent induces visions, as powerful as those granted by yagé. A forest meadow in the morning, tall grass bejeweled with the ejaculate of young Indians. A frolicking pony. Dolphins, leaping through the waves.
Keith strokes Kevin's thighs gently with his fingertips.
"That feel good, son?"
"Yeah, Dad, yeah!"
"You like what we're doing, son?"
"Yeah, it's OK so far."
"Best stuff's on its way. I promise."
Keith exhales. Boydick jumps. It yearns for pleasure. Maybe Kevin's not conscious of it, but the cells of his body are, and they hunger for it. Flesh rules, flesh knows that the secret purpose of existence is orgasm.
"Kevin, listen to me." Keith waits a moment until he's sure his son is focused on his words. "I'm going to teach you something. I'm going to teach you pleasure. How to feel it. I love you so much that I want you to feel.... awesome. You like how I'm making you feel?" He swipes his hands lightly over Kevin's bare thighs.
"Yeah," Kevin breathes. "You're like Frolicking Pony and I'm like Pungent Buck!"
Keith chuckles softly. "You're a boy, Kevin, a sexy boy, and I'm your Dad. And the best sex there is, that can ever be, is when a man has sex with a boy. OK?"
"Yeah -- oh!"
Keith slips his son's dick into his mouth. Kevin's fingers claw the sheets. For the first time in his life a surge of electric power sizzles along his nerves from his dick to his brain. Do you remember your first time? Do you remember how it felt when someone else, not yourself, finally touched you there? When that moment of chaos and uncertainty resolved itself into an ethereal symphony? When you realized what it was like to hope from mountain top to mountain top, looking down on the clouds scudding below you?
Keith tastes boy. Natural, unspoiled boy. Salty, sweaty, and tangy. His tongue slithers out and laves Kevin's sack, nuzzling those precious spheres. Keith and Kevin sigh. Pleasure. They've made the forbidden connection. Man and boy. Dad and son.
Kevin moans. "Oh, Dad!" His naked little butt grinds against the sheet. Poor kid. He doesn't know he should thrust. That he needs to pump. But Daddy will always do his boy right. Keith bobs his head on his son's immature shaft. Suddenly, Kevin knows what he's supposed to do. He starts humping his Daddy's mouth. What was merely incredible becomes awesome. Kevin's ecstasy arcs higher and higher. It's like he's on a roller coaster -- but different. The boy is feeling the same feeling you get when you plunge down -- your stomach leaping up to your heart -- but it's all inverted, 'cause he knows he's going higher and higher and higher--
"DAD!" Kevin squeals.
An explosion convulses Kevin's body. He bucks, straining to squirt. Futile -- he's too young -- but the instinct is there, coded in genes that long ago formed out of inanimate matter. Yep. God Himself wants everything to cum. Sheer jagged pleasure strobes across Kevin's consciousness. No Cartesian dualism here. Mind and body unite in orgasm.
Keith chortles triumphantly in this throat. Keith lets Kevin's dick fall from his lips. Smiling, he looks up at his boy. Kevin's chest heaves. "Did you like that, son?" He already knows the answer.
"Fuck yeah, Dad, fuck yeah!" Suddenly he looks sheepish. "Sorry -- I -- I didn't mean to cuss! "
"It's OK," says Keith, lifting up on his elbows. "Did you like how your Daddy made you feel?"
"Uh-huh." Pause. "Can we do it again?"
"Well, son, there's other things we're going to do."
Keith rolls out of his bed and stands. His dadcock thrusts out over the bed like a bridge. Precum oozes from it. Its shadow falls on Kevin's face. "Sit up."
Kevin sits up. His nose is millimeters away from his Daddy's giant prick. He sniffs at it, gently as a kitten.
Mesmerized, Kevin doesn't answer. Nor does he look away. His Dad's cock looks swell. It smells awesome. He's used to masculine pungency. 901 North Buck road is a deodorant-free zone. The boys in this house like how they smell. The man of the house likes how his boys smell. Kevin's got this scent memorized. But in this moment, his Dad's cock throbbing in his face, he's confronted with the pure power of it. He doesn't know what to do. His heart hammers. He watches a greasy drop drip from his Dad's cock. His eyes follow it all the way to the floor.
"I want you to do something for me, Kevin."
"What, Daddy? What?"
Keith presses his crotch forward. His cock shadows his son's face like a dirigible cruising low over a crinkled, curious landscape. Precum dangles, a lure. His fat nuts throb in his boy's face, a pair of nukes seething with urgent energy.
"Lick your Daddy's balls, son."
Kevin shrugs. Sure. Hell, if his Daddy will suck his dick again, Kevin will do anything his Daddy asks. He bends forward. He catches his breath as if he's gotten a whiff of pure ammonia. What is that? Something sharp, something that rips his perceptions rather than his tender, moist flesh. He tastes power -- a man's power.
He's frozen in the moment, a fly in amber.
Keith isn't patient. Yeah, he should be. There's a young boy in front of him, staring at his cock. But the man is horny. It's time for Daddy to get off. He takes his nuts in hand and stretches the bag outwards towards his son's face.
"Lick 'em, boy."
Kevin's eyes flick up to Keith's. He sees his father fully submerged in the tides of lust. It excites him.
"Come on, Kevin. Look at your Daddy's nuts. You see how tight and full they are?"
The spidersilk strand of precum thickens and descends towards Kevin's sweat-wet hair.
"Yeah, Dad, I do."
"Well, I gotta empty them. You gotta help me with this. I helped you feel good. Now you gotta help me."
"And that's sex?"
"A boy helping a man get his nut? Yep, that's sex." Keith's grin is feral. Maybe even insane. "That's exactly what sex is!"
The boy wrinkles his nose. Then he sets to it. Kevin's tongue slithers out. He licks. The huge hairy spheres, finally laved by underaged tongue, quiver. The strand of Keith's precum drools contentedly in Kevin's hair.
Keith feels his son's breath in his crotch. "Good boy," he croons.
A look of surprise dawns on Kevin's face. What flavor had he been anticipating? Licorice? Chocolate? Chipotle? His expectations were low of the mark. He tastes something unique: the salt-and-piss miasma of a sexually aroused man, harsh like battle and powerful like a gorilla. The taste electrifies the boy. His little dick leaps with approval.
At first Kevin's tongue lashing is tentative. But with each swipe of his dad's balls, that changes. He lashes his tongue faster and faster on his Daddy's nuts. He even gets ambitious and tries to suck one of them into his mouth.
"Whoa, boy! Won't fit, son," Keith breathes, eyes fluttering. " All your brothers have tried. It just can't be done."
Kevin, gobbling on his dad's enormous sack, just laughs around them. Keith sighs. Precum wriggles free. It spirals slowly onto Kevin's hair like syrup.
"Good job," says Keith. Fresh sweat, blooming in his armpits, turns the bedroom's air steamy as a jungle. A jungle where you'd find Boy curiously lifting Tarzan's loincloth.
"You like it, Dad?"
"Yep, son, I do." Keith's chest works. He feels as if he's running a marathon. "Let's do something else."
Keith takes his son's tiny hands and puts them on his enormous, greasy dadcock. "Touch me. Touch your Daddy, son. Hold your Daddy's big cock. You feel your Daddy's cock, Kevin?"
"Yeah, Dad!" Kevin stares cross-eyed at the huge head, blazing in his face, big as a new planet just discovered by a space probe. The slit of Keith's urethra is as wide as Kevin's own dick.
"It's hard, isn't it?"
"Yeah. Real hard. And it feels like it's got electricity in it!"
Breathing hard, Keith utters the words he longs to tell any sexy boy. "Lick my shaft."
Kevin lifts his Dad's cockhead so he's looking at the underside. The precum sways like a gold watch in front of his gaze. It streaks his cheek as he leans forward. Tentatively Kevin licks Keith's big cock. Like a lollipop, or a puppy that's just found a new toy.
Keith shivers. "That's good, son. Now lick it all the way down. Yeah, down to my balls ..."
Suddenly Kevin pulls away, spitting. "Dad! You got a hair in my mouth!"
Keith laughs. "Yeah. That's gonna happen. Spit it out and keep licking your Daddy."
Kevin spits and returns to the task at hand.
"That's good, Kevin."
"You gonna get your nut, Daddy?"
"not yet." An evil grin crawls across Keith's face. "Let's try something." Keith scoops his dangling precum onto his forefinger. "Here. Taste this."
Kevin pops the finger in his mouth. Smacking his lips, he looks up, grinning.
Keith takes hold of his cock, points it at his son's mouth. "Open wide. I'll let you get it right from the tap."
There's no way Keith's going to get his monster into Kevin's throat. No son of his has ever successfully blown their Dad. They have to content themselves with nuzzling the cockhead and drink whatever comes out. Keith would like to find a boy that could choke his cock all the way down. Maybe someday. Maybe someday.
Kevin can't do much more than kiss the blunt cockhead, sucking out the leaking precum. Instantly he's addicted to the elixir. He needs it. He needs the feeling of drinking what his Daddy is giving.
Keith takes Kevin's hands and puts them on his shaft. One near the head, the other near the base. "Move 'em back and forth, Kevin. Like this." He guides his son's hands, and moans as his son quickly learns the art of the handjob. The perverted Dad groans approval. Keith shivers, cum churning in his balls.
"You ever done this before, son?"
"No, Dad!" Kevin's lips shine with spit and precum.
"No man's ever molested you?"
"Has Chase touched you? Has Gideon touched you?"
"Have they made you touch them?"
"No, Daddy!" Precum and slobber stream down Kevin's chin.
"Yeah! Daddy's gonna be the first to get in there!" Keith growls. His muscles tighten. Yeah, it's almost Ascension time. Heaven is not restricted to the Son of God; the fathers of sexy little boys can also walk celestial pathways, if they're depraved enough. "Do it a little faster, boy. Yeah. Jack your Daddy off. Lick your Daddy's cock. Like this, don't you? Hot little son sucking on his Daddy's nut! Go faster. Aww, yes, Kevin, jerk your Daddy. Faster! You're making me feel so good, Kevin. I wanna give you my jism, Kevin, all the jism I got. It'll help you grow up fast! You remember the story? You remember the snake? You wanna grow up and be a big boy, with big muscles and lots of hair, don't you, Kevin?"
"Yeah, Dad, I do!" Kevin says damply.
'You keep your mouth on my cock, boy, and you drink it! You hear me?"
Lips nursing on Keith's cockhead, Kevin nods.
"Faster, Kevin, do it faster .... oh, that's it, yeah, squeeze down on it like that, make Daddy cum, yeah, let me do it, Kevin, you gonna let your Daddy put his thing in your butt, Kevin, you gonna feel so good when I put it inside you, yeah, make a man out of you boy oh oh oh shit shit shit here it comes yeah your Daddy's gonna nut all over your hot FUCKING BODY SON!"
Like a stallion, Daddy Keith gets his nut. Cock swells, pisshole gapes the size of a dime --
He bellows. The floorboards rattle. Comets of juice gush. Keith roars with each blast. Each shot of jism overfills Kevin's mouth. The boy splutters, spewing gluey jism back into his father's crotch and down the boys own chin and chest. Each blast has got to be a cup of Keith's nut butter.
Kevin hangs on, gulping what he can. Frolicking Pony had drunk his father's stuff, so he will to. And the taste? Yeah, better than the clear stuff that leaked from his Daddy's cock.
Keith's sons, everywhere in the house, freeze in mid thrust or shush the brother stuffing him, and listen to their Dad cum. Naïve Seth's only aware of something like an earthquake going off in his dad's bedroom.
Like a fully automatic breeding cannon, Keith's cock fires. And fires. And fires again. He can't stop.
"Look at me, boy! Look at what your fucking Daddy fucking does best!"
Thick gravy courses down Kevin's chin and throat, painting his chest. His little nipples survive, two island remnants of an Atlantis now drowned with cum. Rivers of sperm glow down his flanks. Slug-like creamy splatters of semen decorate Kevin's face -- icing on a surprised, shocked, and ecstatic cake.
"Wow, Daddy!" The words gurgle from Kevin's sperm-clogged throat.
Even after his gushes have dwindled to spurts and then to nothing, Keith can't answer for a few moments. Then: "I came, Kevin. Daddy came. I got my nut, Kevin. I came in your mouth."
"Sex!" Kevin exclaims, his voice thick. "This is sex!"
"Yeah, son. That's what sex is like for your Dad." Keith scoops up some goo with a finger, offers it to Kevin. "Here. Have some more. It's my best!"
Greedily Kevin laps the sperm from his Dad's finger.
"What do you think, son? You like?"
Kevin sucks at his lips. "Hell yeah, Dad! I like it. Give me some more!" His little hands curl and he begs like a dog.
Another scoop. It dangles from Keith's fingers, stretching. It twitches like a sleeper about to awaken. Kevin gobbles his Dad's spunk like spaghetti. The boy frowns. "What's it called again?"
"Jism. Cum." Keith smiles to himself. "Daddymilk. Nutbutter." Another scoop. "Here." His cock hangs in a long arc, neither soft nor hard.
Kevin bobs up like a fish jumping at dangling bait. He smacks his lips, cleaning Keith's finger.
"Pretty good, huh?" asks Keith.
Kevin scoops up from his thoroughly slimed torso his own dose -- maybe half a cup of his father's steaming jism -- pooling it in both his palms as if he were fetching water from a lake. He pours it into his mouth. Slowly, like a thick milkshake, worms of spunk slither down his cheeks. His tongue, slimy with his Dad's ejaculate, slurps up the leaking, precious fluid. He swallows. Grins like he's dreaming of a roomful of puppies. Then cuts loose a belch that smells like a swimming pool.
Father and son burst into laughter. Keith topples onto the bed beside his son, who rolls onto him. Cum smears them both, matting Keith's furry chest. The pressure of his son's body stimulates an erection. Keith's cock throbs, sandwiched between their naked bodies, hard and ready to do it all again.
"We did it!" says Keith, pecking Kevin lightly on the nose. "We had sex!"
"Daddymilk," says Kevin. "Don't you make milk like mommies do, Daddy? In your titties?"
"I don't know," says Keith. "Why don't you try?"
"Getting milk out of my titties." Keith sits up, puffs out his chest. His nipples are easy to see now, hard spikes looming over a kelp-like sea of cum-matted dadfur.
Kevin shrugs. Seems like a good idea to him. Sitting up, he leans in to his dad's chest. His dad's sweaty, slimy flesh fills his gaze. The aura of dadfunk, the smell of Keith's jizzed-up. sweat-soaked, oily body fills his nostrils. Kevin drinks in that aroma like smoke from a censer.
To Kevin, what he's about to do seems a little silly. But then again, it seemed equally silly to lick his Dad's balls -- and look at him now! His Dad's testosterone in his belly, and Kevin knows that mysterious chemical is already doing its work, turning the lad into a powerful, hairy, studly man like his Dad. And his wiener! It's never been this stiff, not even those times when he was alone in the room, hearing the moans and the springs squeaking in the house around him, tuned in to an energy he didn't quite comprehend.
Surely sucking a Dad's tit could only lead an eleven-year-old boy to greater and greater things.
Kevin's lips envelop Keith's tit.
"Good boy," Keith croons. His son doesn't know to use teeth, so his lips feel like the moist fluttering of a spring butterfly. Keith's arms wrap around his son and he snuggles him to his powerful chest. His footlong dadcock throbs. Boys turn men back into teenagers, and teens ain't nothing but an erection with an attached life-support system.
"I don't think there's any milk," murmurs Kevin, nursing gently.
Keith strokes his son's sweaty hair. "Try chewing a little. Ow! Little shit. Not that hard. Oh yes. Daddy likes that."
"Is this sex?"
"Yeah, son, when you suck on your Daddy's nipples, it's sex."
"I'm not getting any milk," Kevin whines.
Keith purrs, "Just keep chewing."
Kevin heaves a sigh. And keeps on chewing. He feels his Daddy's slime leaking from his cock. It makes him wriggle.
"Let's try something else," Keith murmurs.
"You know how you felt when I sucked on your wiener?"
"Well, there's a place I know ... where you can feel even better."
"Up your butt, son."
Kevin stares at Keith. Surely his Dad has gone nuts.
Keith cocks an eyebrow. "You want to try it? It feels really good up there."
"So how do I get that feeling in my butt?"
"A man ... puts his cock ... up your butthole."
"Dad," Kevin scoffs. "Ain't no way you can get your wiener up my butt. My butthole's TINY!"
"There's ways Dads know to make lots of things happen. You wanna try?"
"We can try, Dad, but I don't think it's gonna work."
Keith ruffles Kevin's hair. "You're a good son." He stands. His foot long cock, jutting out of his hairy groin, captures Kevin's gaze. Keith extends his hand. "Come on. Daddy's gonna show you something that'll feel lots better."
Kevin stands. Keith hoists him by the waist. One big, hairy-knuckled palm almost cups both of the eleven-year-old's taut buttocks. His son wraps his legs around Keith's hips. The two lock gazes. Keith growls playfully. Kevin laughs. Keith carries his son to the dresser and sets him down.
"OK. Put your hands here, on the edge. Hold tight. Now look at me in the mirror, Kevin. You know I'm your Daddy, right?" Staring into the mirror, Keith locks eyes with his son. Kevin nods. "That's right. I'm your Daddy. After tonight, you'll know exactly how much your Daddy loves you." Keith's huge cock smacks against his hairy torso.
Keith's eyes fall to his son's ass. Damn. What a sight. Boy ass. Smooth and white as alabaster. Slice a softball in half, mold each hemisphere just a bit to produce those luscious dimples, hang them at the end of Kevin's arched spine, and you have the sole reason why men fuck boys. That tiny ass, so small, so sleek, always thrusting against whatever clothes you swaddle the kid in. Each buttcheek is simply advertisement for the miniscule hole they hide.
Virgin territory. Unexplored, unless one of Kevin's teachers has surreptitiously groped the boy without the innocent tyke guessing the pervert's game. God knows Keith's done enough of that himself.
Cock throbbing, Keith cups a cheek in each hand and kneads the flesh. His son needs a smidgen more muscle tone. This son's ass shouldn't be hard as Gideon's. Nor should it be round and perfect like Tristan's. It should be like ... maybe a soccer player's ass. Yeah. Maybe Keith'll sign Kevin up for soccer.
"You're touching my butt!" Kevin giggles.
Kevin may doubt the success of this act. But Keith knows it's going to work. He'll make it work. Yeah, sure, it seems an impossibility: stuffing a foot of dadmeat into young boy butt. But this is what Keith wants. This is the prize. This is what Keith will have. You can blame Jesse for Keith's new fixation on eleven-year-old butt, for Jesse had been a scrawny twelve-year-old when Keith had gone after him. That too had seemed impossible -- until the moment came when Keith's balls slid up against Jesse's upturned ass and he knew he had a foot of child molesting cock stuffed in his son's tight chute. In that moment, as it did now, the possibilities seemed endlessly perverted.
"I want to make you feel really good, Kevin. Kinda the way you just made me feel. The best you've ever felt in your life. I'm going to make us both feel that way, son."
"How, Dad? How are you gonna do all that?"
"I'm going to put my cock in your butt."
"Don't hurt me, Dad!"
Kevin, watching his Dad's eyes in the dresser's mirror, shivers, frightened by their radioactive intensity.
You're supposed to knock baseballs out of the park with something the size of Keith's cock, not put it up a boy's sweet butt!
But in the afterglow of his first sexual experiences...
... and remembering the sight of his Daddy's erupting cock...
... the warm feel of Daddyjism all over his body...
... the taste...
... the smell...
... the raw power...
... the certainty that he needs Daddymilk, to become a Real Man...
... maybe it's not so frightening after all.
Keith senses the change. He presses against Kevin's back. His erection throbs between the boy's shoulder blades. He seizes Kevin's chin and turns his son's head. His lips brush his son's. "It won't hurt." His lips curl in a hint of a snarl. "It won't hurt at all, son. I promise."
"OK." Kevin's voice sounds tiny, overwhelmed by his father's blazing passion.
"Yeah!" Keith growls in Kevin's ear. "Now. Let me do something I know you're gonna like." Keith kisses the back of Kevin's neck, just below the neat edge of the boy's haircut. His tongue swipes up the sweat.
The boy giggles.
"Feel good?" Keith purrs.
"You like it when Daddy kisses you?"
Slowly sinking into a crouch, Keith plants light kisses down Kevin's spine. He doesn't take the direct route. Sometimes he diverts left. Once he wanders all the way over until he's perilously close to slurping on Kevin's armpit. But that comes nigh to tickling, so Keith resumes his slow, inexorable descent towards warmer, snuggly climes. When his stubbled cheeks tease Kevin's cleft, the boy leaps. Keith pulls back.
His son's unfucked butt, the sweetest fruit, fills his vision.
"Hot," Keith mutters.
"I'll turn up the air conditioning --"
"Shush," Keith growls. "Let Daddy look at your butt!"
Keith's thumbs dig in to the lad's tight arroyo. He peels open the cheeks.
There it is. Kevin's pucker. The greatest prize of all. It's no bigger than a kitten's nose. Pink gently frosts it. There's not a single hair near this treasure, neither north nor south nor east nor west. This is a boy's hole, a hidden well tucked away, almost forgotten, in a narrow valley between two round hills. The corrugations are small and shallow. There is absolutely no way anything this tiny, this delicate can swell to accept the telephone pole Keith Peake sports between his legs.
"Sexy," Keith murmurs.
Gently Keith licks the crevice on either side of Kevin's virgin hole.
"DAD!" Shocked, Kevin stares at himself in the mirror, since that's the only thing he can stare at.
"Shh," says Keith. "Let Daddy eat your butt, son."
"It feels WEIRD!"
Knowing his stubble is making his kid squirm, Keith grips Kevin tightly by his waist. He slurps gently at the satiny flesh, like a dog lapping up water. His boy tastes the way spring feels after a long winter. Keith works up the crack, leaving it gleaming with spit. Then he wanders across the eleven-year-old's cheeks, paying special attention to the dimples, because those dimples are what makes a kid's ass so alluring. Keith kisses down to Kevin's thighs.
"Here it comes, boy!"
And then, Keith plunges his face deep into Kevin's valley. His tongue spears his son's butthole.
His sexy kid squirms. What boy wouldn't? What boy doesn't, the first time a real man munches on his butthole? Hell, even Antinous yelled "Tata! Sentit ridiculum!" when that Emperor got that boy to lie on the couch and spread his legs.
Following an atavistic instinct, Kevin bends forward over the dresser, pushing his butt out. His mouth gapes and his eyes blaze. Yeah, it feels weird. But it also feels...
"DAD! DAD!" Kevin laughs wildly, grinding his butt in his dad's face. He starts huffing as if he's halfway through a marathon.
"Quiet!" Keith mumbles. He munches on Kevin's cherry butthole. His tongue lashes the little squirming ring. It's tight, tasty, and tangy. His boy is ripe for plucking. The pucker spasms.
"Ohhh ..." Kevin purrs.
Keith's tongue stabs. The gates to paradise city burst. Dad's tongue lodges in son's ass. A cry escapes Kevin. Yep. That gets a kid every time. Hell, you slurp on a boy's hole and he'll beg you to keep doing it to him all night. Nothing but ice-cream style licking. He'll never get the complete idea himself. You've got to take the initiative. Shove your tongue in there. Possibilities, endless possibilities of lust, will dawn in that boy's mind. Penetration is a revelation.
Kevin, squirming happily, squeals like a pig. "Do it! Do it! Do it!" He's beginning to think that maybe his dad isn't bullshitting him. Begins to suspect that there are depths of pleasure as yet unknown. That maybe he should open himself to the prospect of giving in to a man's titanic lust. That maybe that feeling he felt when his daddy licked his wiener is just, like Keith told him, something tiny. When compared to the feelings he gets in his butt
Bent over the dresser, sweaty forehead cool against the mirror, Kevin spreads his legs and moans softly.
Keith, knowing his son has surrendered, pulls his face out of Kevin's succulent ass. Possessive light coruscates in his eyes as he stares at his work. The little pucker seems to want to be kissed again. It gapes. Surges towards Keith's mouth when he breathes on it.
"Did that feel good, son? Did Daddy make you feel goooood?"
"Yeah." Quiet awe resonates in Kevin's voice.
Keith stands. His fat cock is an iron bar, throbbing with every beat of his heart, jutting out from his groin. Balls are tight. He gazes down at the boy's back. You know the expression on Keith's face. It's time for the man to mount the boy. Keith caresses Kevin's flanks in the lewd, crude way of a truck driver taking ownership of a Saturday night whore. His son twitches.
"Settle down, Kevin. Daddy's gonna make you feel goooooood."
"What are you gonna do to me, Daddy?"
Keith reaches for the half-used tub of Vaseline on the dresser top. He pops the lid. He likes fucking a kid with Vaseline. It's a nasty, unwholesome, visceral feeling. And he knows that the continued sensation of oiliness of a boy's anus, after Keith's seeded the lad, only makes kids hungry for more. His gargantuan shaft quavers above Kevin's ass. Precum rains from it, spattering the boy's buttocks. Keith freezes and savors what he's about to assert rulership over. Kevin's bubble butt. The deep cleft. The arched back. The anticipatory pose. The slim legs.
"Daddy's gonna fuck you in your butt, son." Keith feels like a lion, dominant over his pride. His cub.
Kevin shivers. Something in the tone of his Dad's voice rattles him. The normal, buttery love is absent. What's there now ... thrills him the way he's thrilled at a haunted house. "Daaaad ...."
"Settle down, Kevin." Keith scoops out a dollop of Vaseline. He probes between Kevin's cheeks. His son gasps. "Don't move! It's gonna happen, son. Yeah, that's right. I'm gonna put my big dick in you. The big dick that made you. Made you and your hot little ass, kid." He smears the Vaseline on his son's virgin pucker. A thick coating. "Put my cock up in you. Where it fucking belongs, kid. Got it?"
Keith pushes his finger inside. Kevin stiffens, tries to stifle a gasp but can't. the noise bursts from him as his Dad's finger sinks completely in. And begins to writhe and poke and do things no dad is supposed to do to his eleven-year-old son.
"Oh, Jesus," Keith murmurs. In that slimy, hot, throbbing space, he feels the pounding of his son's heart. Steadily Keith swirls his finger around and around, deep inside, greasing up his boy. Yeah, he's gotta breed his kid. It's fucking tight in there. He can't believe no one's tried to fuck his hot-assed eleven-year-old. "Does it hurt?" Keith whispers.
Silence. In the mirror Keith sees Kevin's clenched eyes.
Keith's eyes narrow to slits. "Yeah, feels good, don't it, Kevin?"
"Yeah," his boy whispers. "Yeah, Dad."
It's the tone in Kevin's voice that makes Keith reject the notion of putting a second finger inside. Sure, it'd loosen up his boy. But there's really no need for that. His son is already feeling the heat of the moment. Keith, from long experience, knows a kid like Kevin can take his massive cock. That he can stuff his apple-sized cockhead inside the boy. That the youngster can take a solid foot of dadcock. And Keith knows that without being stretched by a second finger ... well the boy will be tighter than all hell. And that's what Keith is here for, isn't it?
Keith croons the word in his son's ear. "Relax, Kevin."
The boy tries. Keith can feel it. But relaxation never quite takes hold. Kevin's anus seems to naturally cinch tight. The tight ring, shiny with grease, spits out Keith's finger. Another dollop of Vaseline. Keith smears his shaft, from oozing cockhead to the swampy pubic bush. Kevin squirms.
"Settle down, Kevin. Daddy's gonna put his big cock inside you."
Keith bends his knees, lowering his shaft to line up with his son's cunt. Seizing his shaft, he presses the huge cockhead into the tiny socket.
"Dad --" Kevin moans.
With a grunt, Keith pushes. His mighty shaft bends. Boys, like girls, don't yield their cherries easily. You have to work at it. For a boy it's a lot harder a task. It's a delicate kind of work, requiring force -- but not too much force. You want the kid to love it, so you can get back in there again and again and again ...
"Relax, son! Relax!"
The little ring won't budge. The struggle escalates. Power swells Keith's muscles. Kevin shifts, twists, turns, seeking to escape. Keith grabs him by the waist.
Keith thunders: "Settle down, Kevin. Settle down! Settle down now!"
"Daaaaad -- "
"I'm gonna put it inside you, boy. Open up, boy. Your Daddy wants what you got, kid. Yeah. Relax. Open up. Let me in. Daddy's gonna put his big cock up your butthole. Dammit, Kevin, I made you! Relax and let your Daddy fuck you!"
Kevin exhales. Suddenly his head snaps back. The son yields. His butthole blooms. Keith's gigantic cockhead lodges inside Kevin's velvet socket.
"OH SHIT!" Kevin's eyes screw shut. Grimacing, he falls forward across the dresser, almost banging his pretty little head on the mirror.
Keith's body is a bronze statue of muscle and power. His face is a mask of insane lust. One hand clamps to one narrow hip. The other caresses the lad's hair. To soothe him. To disguise the overwhelming intensity of his Dad's perverted desire. To help the boy relax. To keep him there. Because yeah, daddy's sliding it home. A snarl disfigures Keith's face.
Dad's fucking you, and you ain't going nowhere till he's balls deep in your young butt.
Let's take a good look up there. In the foreground stands the man's hairy legs. His balls loom like a balloon. Most of that huge, gleaming shaft is in view. Only the cockhead is missing, and you can guess, from the way that hairless anus is straining, that little Kevin's body is trying to pop the painful thing out. The kid's smooth, knobby legs quiver. Feet shuffle nervously.
Keith's breathing is deep and measured. He savors his son's squirming butthole. His eyes close and he indulges the feeling. The feeling of power. Domination. Overlordship. King of the world? Fuck that. Keith Peake's king of this boy's asshole! Yes, Kevin is a true boy. His son's virgin rectum struggles to eject the lust-filled babymaker. Contracting muscles squeeze against the instrument Keith has jammed into his son.
"You feel good, Kevin," Keith whispers.
"That's 'cause your Dad's got a fucking huuuuuge cock, son!" Keith snorts. He stuffs his shaft a few millimeters deeper. The rim of his cockhead vanishes inside his son's anus. Moist noises slurp from the hot space of incestuously united father and son.
"Hurts," Kevin moans. "Burns! Take it out. PLEASE. Take it out, Dad!"
"Ride it out, son. Ride it out. Ride it out like Jesse did. Like Tristan did. You wanna be a man? You gotta learn how to take your Daddy's cock."
He looks down between their bodies. Shit, an impressive sight. His gargantuan cock, bridging the generation gap. Hairy dad crotch. Smooth son butt. Kevin must have at least eleven inches still to absorb. And, by God, his hot son is going to take it all.
Even though there's nothing but the red fog of lust filling Keith's mind, he remembers a trick he learned with Jesse. Or was it Chase? Still holding his boy firmly with one hand, the other slithers down, under Kevin's armpits. It finds one of Kevin's nipples. Keith's fingertips caress it softly. Teasing. The sensation strikes the boy just like a line drive up the middle. He rears up off the dresser. Father and son's eyes meet in the mirror.
Pure delight glows on the boy's face.
"You like that, son?"
Kevin nods, unable to speak.
"You're a little whore, Kevin. I knew it!" Keith's hips stab. With a loud squelch, he crams another inch of dadcock up the straining chute. This inch is maybe the most challenging for the boy. It's the part of Keith's dadshaft just behind his cockhead. The thickest inch.
The lad struggles. A tear leaks from the corner of Kevin's eye. This is the turning point. His little anus, stretched so much the crinkles are all dissolved into a crimson ring of agony, quavers. Kevin feels his Dad. Inside him. Huge. Powerful. Overwhelming. Kevin begins to sense the need to be bred. Begins to comprehend the awesome subtlety of having one's creator inside his young body.
As for Keith? His son's rectum feels like a thousand fleshy doubled-up rubber bands, pulsing on his shaft. His heart thunders. He'd roar but they'd hear it all throughout Ellicott Falls.
"Take it, boy!"
"How much more?"
Keith's answer is another stab. Another inch of his titanic boyfucker. Now, as Keith's cock narrows a bit, Kevin's sphincter begins to close up, almost sucking his dad's cock inside him. The boy groans. Keith eases his hips forward more gently, knowing he doesn't need force any longer. Two more inches. Not a sound from Kevin. Keith starts advancing again --
Keith hugs his boy close. "It's OK, son. Daddy's here."
"How much more, Dad?"
"Just a couple of inches, son." A lie. The kid's got at least half a foot to take, maybe more. But, if you're gonna fuck kids, you tell 'em whatever you have to in order to get it all in.
Keith throbs his dadcock in his boy's succulent butt. The stimulation's too much; Kevin almost pulls away ... but then his eyes flutter, he sighs -- and his small dick, hanging like wet macaroni, jumps and begins to stiffen.
"You can put some more of it in, Dad," Kevin grunts.
Keith smiles triumphantly. "More of my what, son?"
"Your cock, Dad."
Keith, happy to hear his son yield to his desire, bends down and kisses the top of his son's head. Now is time to pinch his kid's nipples. Keith's other hand moves into position. He squeezes. The result is a shriek of delight. And another inch of dadcock embedded into boy butt.
"Feels good, don't it, son?"
"Yeah, Dad," says Kevin. "Still hurts a little."
"That'll go away, son. Now let your Daddy put his cock all the way up your butt."
Kevin lays flat on the dresser, relaxing. Keith takes his boy by the hips. Slowly, inch after inch sinks in. It feels like minutes go by, but both of them are now hot for each other. It's not just a Dad's lust for his son, it's a son's lust for that huge mystery swinging between his father's legs. Kevin's hungry anus gobbles inch after inch of shaft.
Keith watches in growing excitement as his groin draws ever closer to Kevin's butt. Finally! There it is. The sight of Keith's crotch hair, filling his son's hairless asscrack like a dark fog in a narrow valley.
A foot of dadcock crammed up his son's guts.
"You've got a sweet butt, Kevin," Keith purrs. He loves nothing more than this sight. This moment. The forbidden joining of man and boy. Dad and son. Doing what each hungers to do. "You feel me? You feel all that hair up against you?" He snuggles against Kevin's back. "You feel your Daddy's crotch hair?"
"Yeah," moans Kevin. "Feels awesome." The eleven-year-old begins to rotate his hips on his dad's shaft, a chicken skewered by a fucking hot breeder.
"Daddy's got his big cock up you, boy, don't he?"
"Daddy's got his big cock where it belongs, don't he?"
"Who's your Daddy, Kevin?"
"You're my Daddy!"
"Let's fuck, son!"
The first time a cock slithers out of a boy is just about as awesome as that first penetration. It brings home to the boy how awful it is not to have a man's giant rod up there. How awful it is to exist with that unfulfilled need howling inside. As his Dad's cock emerges, gleaming with Vaseline, oily with lust, Kevin's hands ball into fists. That fat section is on its way out. He can feel his butthole expand and expand and expand and it almost feels like his dad's retreating cock is going to suck out all of Kevin's internal organs --
Then Keith snaps his hips and buries his shaft balls deep in his boy. Both sigh.
If you were there, kneeling behind Keith, you would see Keith's massive nuts drawn tight against the base of his shaft, almost lost in his thick pubic hair. You would see Kevin's tender ring, now pink and purple like a dog's lips, straining, quivering, glistening. You would see the man holding his strength there, inside the boy. And you would see the boy roll his hips, thrust back, pull forward, because goddamn a man's cock feels great!
"Yep, boy, that was good, wasn't it?"
"It was the best!"
Slowly, Keith begins to churn his hips. In. Out. The primal motion of man/boy lust. The moments when his wiry crotch fur scour Kevin's smooth asscrack bring gasps of delight from his son's moist lips. The moments when the boy is empty, when his father's cock is almost completely withdrawn, when a void howls inside him demanding to be filled -- sadness strobes across his face. Keith jams his cock in again and again, filling the boy up with the godlike organ that created him.
Panting, eyes rolling, slobbering, the eleven-year-old begins to buck his hips back against his Dad.
"You like it when your Daddy molests you, don't you, boy?"
"Yeah, Dad! Fucking awesome!"
"You're my new honey-boy, Kevin."
"I like being your honey-boy!"
"I like fucking your tight little butt!"
Keith pumps harder and faster. Deeper is not possible. He's a balls-to-the-wall man from the get go. A sheen of sweat gleams on his body. Droplets gush down his nose and spatter Kevin's heaving back. The tension in his balls builds. He's gotta breed his kid.
"Oh, yes, honey-boy, you feel so good in there. You make Daddy feel good. Does it feel good?"
"Yeah, Dad, my butthole feels really good!"
"Does it feel better than when I played with your wiener?"
Keith takes Kevin by the hips, ramming harder and harder. Daddy's gotta fuck. Breath explodes between his lips. Keith's hard buttocks clench and unclench, drilling his ramrod in Kevin's greasy hole.
"Yeah, it feels so good up there. Nice and tight for Daddy! You gonna let your Daddy fuck you whenever I want?"
The boy spreads his legs and arches his back. "Maybe," he says. His eyes meet his father's in the mirror. "Only if you promise to molest me whenever I ask!"
Keith grins. "Oh I will, boy. I promise. Daddy's gonna molest you every day and every night!"
The eleven year old bounces his butt harder and harder off his Daddy's crotch. His eyes roll up and his nipples turn into tiny spikes. His dick juts like a dagger, rising out of his bouncing ball bag.
"It's feeling really good in there," Kevin moans. "Way better than when you had my wiener in your mouth!"
Man and boy struggle, one yearning for something new that he senses will be like meeting God, the other trying to delay delivering his payload. Keith huffs and puffs, cock pistoning. Kevin mewls and writhes ad does everything he can to get his Daddy to move his magic cock faster.
"Oh Dad! Dad! DAD! DADDY!" Kevin shrieks and again falls forward across the dresser, pounding his fists. His butthole squeezes like mad on his Dad's thrusting cock and his hairless little spike throbs against his belly.
Keith chortles. Hell yeah! His son's rectum milks his cock.
"Yeah," Keith growls, "Daddy made you cum, boy -- here it cums, boy, you're making your Daddy feel so good, you're so hot and sweet inside, yeah, kid, I could fuck you forever, oh shit here it is, fuck yeah, time to breed my boy, yeah, breed him, fuck it I'M INBREEDING HIM!"
Keith sheathes his boyfucker. Kevin's rectum quivers in anticipation. With a roar, Keith fires.
Nova in the dark.
Jism fountains into Kevin's private cavern. Kevin feels it. Even through the stroboscopic effects of his first anal orgasm, he feels his Dad juice his guts. On one level he knows what it is. It's that hot goo his Daddy blasted all over him. That wonderful soup that he drank. But, more primitively, he's aware of nothing but the feel of hot, nasty slime appearing as if by magic in his guts.
"Shit! Shit! Shit!" Keith puffs with each blast of semen. "Take it, boy! Take Daddy's load!"
When it's done Keith can't help himself. He falls over on his son's back. Both of them are panting, trying to gather their wits. Keith's arms encircle his boy, pulling the beloved flesh tighter. His cock softens in his boy's butt. Kevin purrs, moves his ass slowly on his dad's cock.
Minutes pass. From outside comes the sound of crickets. From upstairs, if you listen carefully, the rhythmic sound of fucking flesh.
"Daddy," Kevin says. "You're heavy."
"Sorry, boy." Keith pulls off. His softening cock emerges from Kevin's butthole. A symphony of farts erupts. Both giggle.
Keith, curious, pokes a finger up Kevin's butt. Greasy, yeah, but not slimy. He pops the finger in his mouth. Nope, no jism. He grins.
"I shot it so deep I betcha I got you pregnant, Kevin!"
His son laughs. "I can feel it, Dad. It's like you poured hot milk up there."
"You like it when Daddy cums in you!"
"I like cumming inside, boy. I like putting my load in your hole." Keith pops his son on the buttcheek. "Run upstairs. Get a sixpack out of the fridge. Then meet me out on the patio."
"Yeah, Dad!" Kevin rushes up the stairs, stark naked. Vaseline is smeared all along his buttcrack.
The night is cool, pleasant on Keith's sweaty skin. The Buck river murmurs. He sits naked on a patio chair, his soft cock hanging in a long arc over his balls. He smells the scent of Kevin's innards rising off his prick. Marijuana embers glow orange in the bowl. His lungs are alive with the smoke.
Fuck yeah, Keith thinks. Another son. I've fucked another son. Given him Daddy dick for the first time. Felt that sweet butthole open for me. The man who made him.
Fucking his sons is something Keith knows he was meant to do.
Fucking young boys is something Keith knows he was meant to do.
Men? Not Keith's thing. Sure, it's hot to be in a room with other men -- but only if they're all fucking a boy. Doing it with a man? Naw. Keith is a firm supporter of the age of consent. It makes hunting beneath it so piquant.
Women? They're for breeding.
Animals? Well, Keith has his secrets.
Incest with a son is the best sin ever devised.
Little feet gallop down the stairs to Keith's bedroom. He grins. His slack cock leaps. Kevin bursts through the patio door, clutching a six pack to his chest. "Got 'em!"
"Great, Kevin. Thanks." Keith breaks off one of the cans and pops the top. He pours half the can down his throat. Between the weed-induced cottonmouth and the moisture he sweated out fucking his son, he's parched.
Kevin stares at his recumbent dad worshipfully, still clutching the sixpack-less-one.
"Here, give me that." Keith takes the cold beer. He snaps one off, pops the top, and hands it back to his son. "Drink up. You're getting to be a man now, son. You can have some beer. But only when I tell you so." He sits the beer down next to the bong on the patio.
"Wow, thanks Dad!" Kevin gulps, grimaces, spits. "What!? This is awful!"
"Yep," Keith says.
"Can I smoke some of that pot?" The lad's eyes are bright and eager.
"Nope. Not till you're older."
Kevin stamps in frustration. "Aw!"
Keith pats his chest. "Come lay down with me."
The lithe son stretches out on his father's naked body. Man and boy are quiet, enjoying the nearness of each other and the absence of condemnatory prudes. From the north, further up Buck road, comes the remote sound of television. Trailer parks never sleep. The landing lights of a small plane flash as it descends towards the runway at the Ellicott Falls airport. There are a billion stars in the sky and the Moon is a silvery island.
Fzzt. Something wet drips on Keith's thigh. He scoops it up, tastes it.
"You leaking? From your butt?"
Embarrassed, Kevin looks away. "Yeah. I'm trying not to, Dad. It wants to come out, but I wanna keep it." He snuggles against Keith's chest. "It feels so good up there."
"You're a good boy."
"What were you brothers doing?"
Nose wrinkling with disgust, Kevin takes another sip of the beer. He looks up, grinning. "Fucking!"
"Who was fucking who?" Keith is concerned about Seth. He knows he's got competition for the young boys in his house now. Chase. Gideon. An unanticipated side-effect of raising a brood of pedophiles. But this is Daddy's house. He gets dibs on the kids. Especially Seth. He can't wait until Seth's eleventh birthday. Yeah. That'd be really hot. Giving Seth a foot of dadcock as a birthday present.
"Well. Gideon was fucking Tristan."
"Well, you know how one dog gets on another dog's back --"
"Yep. Daddy knows."
"And they were doing it in front of Wolfsbane!"
He ruffles Kevin's hair. "What was Seth doing?"
"He was just watching, Dad. He had his hand down his pajamas."
"Cool." Another great gulp. Keith's beginning to feel refreshed.
"And there was a lot of noise coming from Chase's room. I think they were watching a naughty movie or something. Jesse was laughing!"
"You like sex, don't you, honey-boy?"
"Yeah, Dad, I do! When can we do it again? Can we do it all night long?"
Keith's dadcock rises like a skyscraper, jutting up between Kevin's naked thighs to loom over the boy's greasy butt. Keith reaches down to pluck another beer. "Just a few more seconds, Kevin, and I'll fuck your brains out!" He kisses Kevin on the lips. "You know you can have sex with anyone you want, now, Kevin. I mean that. Men. Or boys, even." Because Keith's open-minded, he adds. "Or girls."
"Really? Anyone?" He bites his lip and his eyebrows leap, suggesting his devious little mind is running down a private list.
"Anyone you think is sexy."
Kevin slurps the beer. "But I just want you to fuck me, Dad." He burps.
Keith pecks his son's forehead. "Then let's fuck, son." He sets Kevin down beside the chair and stands. Keith's dadcock is hard, projecting horizontally out of his crotch, swaying as he walks. His son stumbles, staring at that thing. The boy is wobbly and giggly from his beer as Keith leads him by the hand to the outdoor table.
"You got a big cock, Dad!"
"I know. And you've got a small, tight little butt."
"Wow," Kevin breathes. "I got all that up me."
Keith winks. "We made it work, didn't we, honey-boy? You're a good fuck, kid. Daddy loves that." He grabs Kevin by the waist and lays his son on his back on the picnic table. "Lift your legs. Yeah. All the way. Show off that little butthole to your horny Dad."
Beaming, Kevin lifts his legs so that his knees are beside his ears. "Fuck me, Dad!"
"I'm gonna get you pregnant, you hot little boy." Keith adjusts Kevin so that small, tight little butt hangs over the edge. He parts his son's legs, moving in between. His cockhead rubs against Kevin's still greasy butthole. Kevin's slim legs entwine his Dad's boss body. Keith grips the shaft and takes aim.
"Fuck me, Dad!"
Keith pushes in. No need to grease up again, thanks to the crude magic of Vaseline. His jism gurgles in his son's guts. The boy's tender innards readjust to the perverted parental invader, ballooning around it, welcoming it, knowing that the gigantic instrument brings only delight. After a careful plunge, Keith is balls deep in his son. He feels his sack hanging low in his son's greasy crevice.
"Mmmm-hmmm!" Kevin's eyes are scrunched shut. Delight dances across his face.
Keith withdraws. A web of his own semen coats his shaft. Strands of clear fluid tie together big clots of white jism. He pulls back until Kevin's little anus bulges, on the cusp of expelling his father's cock. The pucker is a livid purple and rubbery. Keith drives back in. Father and son groan.
"Yeah," Keith purrs, "Honey-boy. Your Daddy's fucking you."
"Yeah," Kevin breathes, his eyes rolling up as he feels his Daddy thrusting in his bowels.
"Who's your Daddy?"
Suddenly his son's gaze is clear and fixed on Keith's face. "You're my Daddy!"
"Who's your Daddy, boy?" Keith repeats.
"You're my Daddy!"
"You like your Daddy's big cock, don't you? Yeah, you're just like your brothers. A hot little boy slut. Can't get enough of a man's meat, can you?" Keith saws faster. Air burbles around his plunging cock.
"No, Daddy, I need lots more!"
"You're butt feels great, Kevin. Yeah, I can feel all my stuff up there. All hot and slimy. Yeah. What's my stuff called, Kevin?"
"Jism," he says.
"You've been listening to your brothers, haven't you, boy?" Keith moves faster and faster. His loose balls slap his son's ass. A line of semen drools from Kevin's buttery, blustery cunt. It grows longer and longer, swinging more wildly as Keith fucks his son. It breaks and plops onto Keith's foot.
"Yeah! They know all the dirty words!"
"You want to move into my room, Kevin? You wanna start sleeping in your Daddy's bed?"
"Wow. You mean -- like Jesse?"
"Yeah. Like Jesse. Except he's moved out. He's got his own room now."
Kevin says nothing, grunting softly as his father fucks him.
"We can do this all the time, Kevin. I can fuck you every day. Before you go to school. When you get home from school. You can lick my cock while I'm shaving. I can suck your wiener when you're in the bath. You can sit on my cock while you're playing Xbox."
The boy reaches up, hugging his hands around his father's torso, and pulls him down. The kiss is nasty and hot. Manflesh and boyflesh writhe against each other. The small tongue enters his father's mouth, teasing out the large tongue, which explores the youngster's mouth as thoroughly as the cock rearing in and out of the boy's rectum. Kevin starts playing with his Dad's nipples, searching through that thick, matted sweaty fur on the muscular chest. His creamy thighs wrap tight around the powerful man anally assaulting him so masterfully. Kevin devours his father's delighted laughter as the two continue to swap slobber.
"Yeah, Dad," Kevin pants. "I wanna sleep in your bed!"
Keith groans, gyrating his hips wildly, skewering his son. Kevin, eyes rolling, thrashes wildly, fingers clawing desperately at his Dad's chest hair.
"My butt's getting all tingly again, Dad," Kevin moans. "Do it more!"
"Yeah, son," Keith puffs, "my balls are getting tight. And you know what that means, don't you, boy?"
"Yeah, Dad!" Kevin growls, wriggling his hips. The muscles on his lithe body bleed through his skin.
Again, it happens to the boy first. Kevin squeals. And then his rectum turns into something to drive any pedophile into heaven. A squeezing, constricting velvet tunnel, slick, bestowing its orgasmic gratitude on the giant cock that had driven it to such extremes.
A mad, passionate light gleams in Keith's eyes. Then Keith's breath catches in his throat. His head rolls back.
"Fuck you, you hot little boy, you're making your Daddy shoot! Yeah, inbreeding time! Fuck, kid, let me show you what I can shoot! Feel it! Feel it, boy! Take your Daddy's load! Aw shit you're a goddamned HOT ASSED SLUT!"
Torrents of jism gush into the boy, whirling around and around Kevin's spasming rectal walls. The maelstrom of hot daddyload floods Kevin's guts. The boy grimaces. It feels like his stomach's about to burst from within. He doesn't complain though. He knows it'll feel good, just as soon as his dad's cock slips out and gives all that jelly some room. Then he can secretly enjoy the gooey bubbling in his butthole.
"Oh, man, Kevin," Keith gasps, sweat dripping, "you're one hot little fuck!"
Kevin giggles. "I know, Dad!"
When Keith pulls his rubbery cock out of his son, it shines with a coating of Vaseline and yeah, a little sheen of jism. But all that good stuff, all of his rich powerful nutbutter, seethes and bubbles deep within his son's ass. Not quietly, no. You can hear it. It sounds like glue boiling on a stove. Thick and gooey daddystuff. Spunk. The chemical from which boys are distilled.
Breathing hard, Keith falls forward over his sweating, panting boy.
Kevin squawks. "Daddy!"
Keith, gasping, doesn't move.
"Daddy! Get off me! I got to pee!"
Keith hears that. He grins an evil grin. He lifts himself up, grabs both of Kevin's hands and pulls his son upright and off the table. He kneels in front of his son, who hops from foot to foot, holding his dick.
"Pee on me."
"Pee on your Daddy, son."
Kevin stands there, bladder throbbing, shocked. He watches his father bow his head. Sees the moonlight glitter on his father's short hair.
"Pee on you?"
"Yeah. Cut loose."
Voice husky, Keith says, "It's sex, honey-boy. Really hot sex. It'll make your Daddy feel good."
Kevin's eyes scrunch up with determination. OK, he'll do it. But it's not easy. His wiener -- for some weird reason -- stiffened when Keith asked him to pee. Kevin grabs it, levels it, and aims. But it won't flow! The sixth grader grunts and groans but the best he can produce is a dribble. A few drops which weep from his cock.
"For fuck's sake, Kevin, you're not trying to give birth. Just relax."
Kevin laughs. And that's enough.
The fluid strikes his Dad right on his face, shattering into a golden starburst. The man burbles, not expecting it. He bows his head, letting Kevin's pee soak his hair. No, the flood isn't impressive, and it dribbles away long before you'd expect it. Well before Keith can open his mouth and catch some of it. But Keith is soaked in boy urine and his body, heated from all the sex, is cooling as the golden substances evaporates.
"I got you wet, Dad!"
Standing, piss dripping in puddles around his feet, Keith says, "That was really hot, Kevin." Keith brushes a stiff nipple. His eyes roam his favorite little boy's naked body, measuring the lad's posture. His expression. "You know Daddy wants you to stay in his bed forever."
"Well, you'll need a bigger bed. I keep growing!'
"Yeah, you do." He waddles forward. "My turn!"
Keith grabs his soft cock just behind the head. A long arc hangs between his groin and palm like a lazy anaconda. He aims right between Kevin's nipples. "I'm gonna mark you."
"Mark my turf, boy." Warmth spreads through Keith. He relaxes. A pencil-thick line of golden piss gushes from his cock. It too shatters into a starburst of golden sparkles, but the effect is more like a firehose aimed at a stunned brick wall. The hot liquid foams on Kevin's chest.
Kevin stiffens. What is his Dad up to now? The spray splashes onto his face. His eyelids flutter to keep the hot liquid from his surprised eyes. The golden tide flows over his creamy white flesh, down his shoulders, gathers the rich scent of a well-fucked boy from his armpits, and splatters onto the patio.
"You know how Wolfsbane pees on fire hydrants? On trees? On mailboxes?"
Kevin can't possibly answer through that dizzying rain of piss.
"He's marking his turf. That's how it's done, son. You're my boy," Keith whispers. "You'll always be my boy."
Kevin shudders. This is weird, but it feels kinda nice. Keith's piss is warm, and slimy, and as it flows over his stiff little dick it's making him want to pee again. Laughing, Kevin cuts loose. And Keith jumps as his son's hot pee splatters on his hairy crotch. Like crossed golden rapiers, the two streams shoot past one another.
"You're a rotten little kid," says Keith, still pissing. "I love you!"
His son, laughing and giggling, still manages a brief smug look as his pee splatters his Dad's groin.
A Satanic glint peeps from Keith's eyes. "Open up, Kevin. Open your mouth."
"Dad, I --"
Quick as a rattlesnake, Keith stuffs his piss-spurting cock as far into Kevin's mouth as it'll go. Foam gurgles over the boy's lips. Kevin's eyes widen. Look up at Keith's.
"Drink it," Keith growls. "It's good for you. It's got testosterone in it. Like Daddy's jism."
So Kevin's Adam's apple bobs. He gulps his father's urine.
"Nice," murmurs Keith.
The floods die. Keith picks his son up and carries him back to the patio chair. He stretches out and pulls the boy on top of him. They kiss, nuzzle. Pee dries on their flesh.
Kevin's hand slips down between them, to fondle his Dad's cock and balls. "Will you fuck me some more?"
"Daddy's gotta rest, boy. You drained me."
"Why did Gideon say you had a dick like a horse."
"When did you hear that?"
"When I got the beer." Kevin burps. The odor of piss makes Keith's head float. Kevin looks up into his Dad's eyes. "Can I get down between your legs? Even if you're tired? I wanna be Frolicking Puppy! Please, Dad? "
"Sure thing." Keith folds his arms behind his head and closes his eyes.
Kevin sniffles around his Dad's cock, breathing in the funk of sweat, of piss, of boy ass, of cum. He's thorough. His nose slides along both sides of his Dad's nuts. He breathes in the steam rising from Keith's sleepy cock. His dick gets stiff. His tongue lashes the flesh. The Vaseline tastes weird, but Kevin's pretty sure he can get used to that. He feels his Dad's cock begin to stir. His eyebrows waggle, and he grins.
"That's nice, Frolicking Puppy," Keith says sleepily. He spreads his legs. His balls sag low onto the chair. He shifts, feeling his son cup his sack in his hands.
"You're not wearing a loincloth like the Indians, Daddy."
"Well, honey-boy, I've got one in my bedroom --"
Kevin grimaces. Too much work. "Let's play a different game!"
"Cowboys and horses!" Kevin leaps up and charges full tilt into the house.
Keith, somnolent, fondles his resurgent hardon wondering what's up.
Kevin thunders onto the patio. He's wearing his Western hat angled far back on his head, and has belted holsters and guns around his naked waist. He pulls the guns from the holsters and begins play-firing into the air, one gun at a time, making "PEW! PEW!" sounds.
"I'm a cowboy, Daddy, and you're my horse, and I'm gonna ride you hard!"
Grinning, Keith flops back on the patio chair, holding his cock aloft. "Put me away wet, son!"
Kevin, still play-firing his pistol's, straddles his Daddy's cock. He rests his butthole on Keith's cockhead. He shifts until everything is positioned just so. Then he lets his tight little butt slip down.
"Whoa, boy," says Keith. "You can't take that much cock that quickly!"
"Quiet, Dad! Horses don't tell cowboys what to do!"
It seems Keith has created for himself another family slut. Because in this -- Kevin's third anal encounter -- he's able to take all his Dad's cock, all the way down to the base, absorbing that huge meat in seconds. His eyes flutter with pleasure. The boy's tongue lolls as he bounces happily.
"Just a minute, Kevin." Keith savors this sight. Kevin straddling his crotch. His cowboy hat, canted back. Revolvers in each hand. The little dick sticking up, hard as a railroad spike.
And, of course, the best thing of this whole moment can't be seen. It's the union between the cowboy and his horsey, jammed far up little Kevin's butt, warmed and loved by the tight channel.
"All right," says Keith. "Let's ride, pardner!"
Dad and son churn themselves into a frenzy.