BOBBY RAY'S ITCH
Incest Tales 16
By DannyR (MM/b, oral, anal, incest)
Copyright 2009. All rights reserved.
Author's Reminder: Don't forget that inquiring authors want to know -- what did you think? So when you're done, put your fingers to a dried-off, cleaned-up keyboard and start by typing: email@example.com.
DISCLAIMER: Some folks apparently have trouble distinguishing between fantasy and reality. This story is a fantasy. It didn't happen. Never will. And anyone who attempts to do in real life all or any of the things depicted in the story needs to be hanged, then drawn and quartered, and then turned over to the cops for the harshest penalties the law allows. After that, well, hopefully everything Law and Order and the news say is true about child molesters in prison, is really true. Now that we're clear on what's what, and what's not, read on.
BOBBY RAY'S ITCH
"But I don't have an itch, daddy!"
That was Bobby Ray, in his "`dignant" voice. My young son was very smart (not good for me at the moment). But he was also very trusting (very good for me at the moment, if I could get the trust to overcome the smarts).
He especially trusted his daddy. Despite all indications that perhaps (probably?...yes, definitely probably) that wasn't really a good idea. But hey, he was just a little fucker, so how would he know? Or know for sure?
Part of me just wanted to say "fuck it!" and just do it. Part of me, the dark part, would enjoy the wailing and the crying and the struggling if I just stripped him, put him belly down on the bed, lubed the really thick, short daddy meat, spread his ass cheeks with my right hand while my left held him in place, and just shoved my prick up inside his plump pussy. Paused for a second or two. Then fucked (perhaps literally) the shit out of him, until I creamed his guts.
The other part of me, the part presently running things--definitely not the light part, as I'm sure I don't have one of those, but more the "not quite as dark as the really dark part"--was going to steer the cock truck along a different route, but still arrive at the same destination. I glanced at my watch. Well, hell. Fifty-nine minutes left. Better get moving.
"I know you don't have one right now, baby."
He crossed his arms over his plump little chest, and glared at me with a mulish look, one I knew I would see if I ever glared into a mirror. He stamped one foot on the floor. "Not a baby."
"I know that, too, son. But the men in our family get these itches right around your age." He preened a little at being included as one of the "men" of the family. "And they can be pretty bad if they're not taken care of."
"Did you get an itch when you were my age, daddy?"
I nodded. The nod was a lie, though. See? I'm lying to my kid. Not light at all. The first time I experienced the itch was almost eighteen months younger than Bobby Ray is now. So he's waaaaay the fuck behind schedule according to some people. I glared at the two way mirror on one wall of my boy's bedroom. Yep, definitely a mulish look. Okay, back to the business at hand. Or cock.
"Yeah, son, a really bad one. Remember when you got that poison ivy, and how much you wanted to scratch `cause you itched so bad? And how sometimes you scratched yourself, but that only made things worse?"
He nodded, clearly remembering that awful time a couple of months ago. Hey, I didn't mean for it to spread all over like that. I just wanted him to have the experience, so that when I had "the talk" with him he'd have something to relate to, something to understand better. How was I to know that even though I told him not to scratch while I went to get him some Calamine lotion and call the doctor, that my previously-obedient little boy would go crazy scratching himself and then rub his hands elsewhere on his naked, rounded body and spread the stuff?
"See, Bobby Ray, this is a different kind of itch. And this one it's okay to scratch, but the problem is getting to where it is."
"It's up inside our bottoms."
Bobby Ray just laughed. "Silly, daddy. There's nothing up there but poo."
My turn to chuckle. "Yeah, you're right. But, really, Bobby Ray, daddy is telling you the truth. All the men in our family get this just awful itch up inside, and we need to scratch it, but we can't do it by ourselves."
Okay, more of the not-quite-light part. So that's not quite true. It's just like that old Beatles song, "I get scratched with a little help from my friends." And family. And strangers.
"Honest to gosh, daddy?"
"Honest to gosh, son." I paused. "And I think I may have a real bad itch up there right now, and I thought, well, maybe you could help me scratch it, son. If it's really there."
He looked at me kind of funny.
"Honest, son, it would really mean a lot. And it would help me out, too. Make me feel a whole lot better. You want to be a good boy and help your daddy, don't you?"
He nodded his head vigorously, like the good little boy he is. "Okay, Bobby Ray, daddy is really glad. Now, we need to take our clothes off, son."
Another funny look. Maybe he was remembering all that preschool shit about bad touching. Interfering officious pricks! And cunts, too! But he did what he was told. Not that he had very far to go, since it was a hot summer day, and all he was wearing was a bathing suit and flip flops. He kicked off the flip flops, and tugged the suit off and down to drop around his ankles. Almost instantly he was naked and I could feast my eyes on his plump, almost fat, gorgeous little body. A hot little boy belly, that kind of pooched out over his tiny pricklet and tiny balls. Plump little boy breasts with big dark pink nipples. I told him to turn around. Fuck. Such a sweet, pl...okay...fat ass, such gorgeous boy cheeks.
I couldn't resist. Fully clothed still, I dropped to my knees, told him to bend over and rest his arms on the bed, that I had to check him. He got half-way through the "For what, daddy?" when he abruptly stopped. Probably the squeal. Probably because my callused hands had gripped his bottom and spread his crack wide, so that I could get my face between that soft, soft, soft smooth flesh and lick his boyhole.
"Daddy! You're not s'posed...."
He didn't squeal this time. More of a whimper. Probably because I managed to get just a little bit of my talented tongue into his hot pink rosebud pucker. I lifted my face from his wet crack. "It's alright for daddies to do this, Bobby Ray. Well, daddies who get these awful itches, too, like your daddy probably has right now. That way we know if our precious sons are gonna have an itch anytime soon."
His look at me over his shoulder was pure puzzlement. A good response since I was kind of making this shit up as I went along. I'd had a different plan, a wee tad darker (more on the lines of take this cock and shove it) than the current plan, which was really based on winging it. "Uh, well, if a daddy licks his son's bottom hole and his boy doesn't do anything, then there's no danger of an itch. But if the boy, oh, say, squeals, or moans, that means he's gonna have an itch way up inside his boy bottom real soon."
His eyes got very, very wide. Squealing. Moaning. He'd done both. He was in mortal danger. He opened his mouth to say something, but I went on. "But if he gets his poo hole licked like that, and he starts saying all sorts of really bad words, the kind that gets a boy's mouth washed out with soap most times, that means he's got the itch. Bad. And he really, really, really needs someone to take care of him. That's what daddies do, Bobby Ray, they take care of their baby son's itches."
My son nodded solemnly, his eyes telling me how deeply grateful he was for my concern and caring.
"But daddies have to be checked, too, because sometimes they can't tell for sure if an itch is coming on, or even if it's there. Be...because it's a different kind of itch when it's up inside you. The really lucky daddies are the ones who have good sons who want to help their daddies. Sons just like you. Right, Bobby Ray?"
He nodded again. Like that little guilt trip gave him much choice of doing anything else. I gave him a daddy's proud smile. And pulled my white tee over my head, tossing it on the floor; toed off the loafers without socks, unbuttoned my no-way-but-commando tight jeans, peeled them down, then kind of hopped around on one foot and then the other, trying not to fall on my ass while I got them off. Okay, so I'm not athletic and graceful and balanced and shit like that. But fuck, I was on a tight schedule here, and I had to get them off so I could get off.
I swear if Bobby Ray's eyes got any bigger they would have exploded. Makes a daddy feel proud when his son's eyes get like that staring at daddy's dripping hardon.
"Daddy, your pee-pee is so big!"
That's because of all the daddy-milk I swallowed growing up. I just nodded. "Yeah, son, it is bigger than yours, but every man is different, just like little boys are. Some are longer." Dad. Uncle Ned. My brother Jack. "Some are a lot longer, but not many are like that." My nigger boss. "Some are shorter." The principal at Bobby Ray's school, or rather the one he'd be starting in a few weeks. "But not many are as thick as your daddy." Except Ernesto, Dad's "lawn boy." Ernesto has been doing our lawn, and Dad, since before I was born, and he was thirteen when that happened. It took me a damn lot of years, far too many as far as I was concerned, before he could work that fat meat in my boy cunt.
My boy looked suitably impressed, although I wondered if he was imagining all those different cock sizes. "Would you like to touch Daddy's cock?"
He looked puzzled.
"That's a grown-up word for pee-pees, Bobby Ray. Only little boys have pee-pees. Daddies and other men have cocks. Or pricks. Or dicks. But you can only call Daddy's...er...pee-pee that when we're alone." With just me, or a bunch of men waiting their turn.
"Can you say `cock' for daddy?"
He did. Oh sweet Lord. My cock spit precum.
"Can you say it again, really, really slow? Like this?" And I sounded it out for him, long and slow: "Kahhhhhhhhhhhhhhk."
Picture it. A plump little boy whose holes you want to use, says the word "cock" long and slow. Say it your self, just the word, while you look in a mirror, watch how your mouth drops open, stays open as you stretch the word out. A little boy's gaping mouth, forming the perfect hole to insert daddy's dick.
I put my forefinger gently into his mouth, resting on his tongue. He closed his lips in surprise. "That's okay, son. Just suck on my finger, just a little, you're being so good, but daddy's finger has to be wet to try the other test."
I almost came as his fat lips obediently clamped down tighter, and his tiny tongue began hesitantly licking my finger as I gently finger fucked his mouth. When it was good and wet, I pulled it out. I had him stand up straight, back towards the bed, crouched down so I could get to his crotch, nudged his little legs apart, and while I was sucking his tiny pricklet and balls into my mouth, started easing my finger into his tiny virgin cunt. Must be something to that pedo gene shit Dad always preached, since he only whimpered a little. My boy, the bred to the bone, pedo's delight.
I curled my finger, found his little gland and rubbed it as I gently finger fucked his cunt and sucked his baby pricklet and baby balls. My boy whimpered. What a delight for a cocksucking father to hear. He called out my name, soft, hesitant, and then I felt his plump little hands touch my hair. My hair is thick and soft and long, down past my shoulders. Dad likes it that way. Always has. Loved the way it humiliated me when I was little to be mistaken for a girl. But he likes hair to grab onto when he's fucking, face or cunt. I kept right on working my precious little one, felt his infant male instincts, the primitive core all men have from birth, kick in as he clutched my hair with both hands and began to thrust his baby hips back and forth. We're born wanting mouth on our dicks, born with the sense to know that it can only be better if we hold on tight to the head that's giving us head, and use that mouth hole for fucking.
Bobby Ray's mind didn't know what he was doing, but his body sure the fuck did as he lost complete control, laying back against the bed, moaning and tossing his head back and forth, writhing, yanking at my hair good and hard so the pain shot through me, shrieking to tell daddy he had to pee, had to pee, and then his pussy was clamping down on my finger so hard it nearly hurt as he went into near convulsions. And damn if he didn't pee, too!
Ha! I was going to get it all. First to eat his cunt. First to suck him to a cum. First to finger fuck him. First to drink his pee. As I eased my finger out of his pussy, I raised my head, used the fingers of my left hand to wipe the spit drool and boy piss remainder from my face and mouth, and then smear it across his little belly. He raised his head groggily. "D...daddy?"
"Hush, little one. Everything's okay, but, well, when a young man like you reacts that way to the test, it, well, it means you're definitely gonna have a really, really bad itch up in there later."
"Ohhhhh, no." His little face scrunched up like he was going to cry, but I eased my finger back into his pussy and his mouth rounded in a pleased, wide-eyed "O" of surprise.
I wiggled the finger just a little. "There, son, you like that, don't you?" It was all he could do to nod. The little slut. I sighed inside. With pride. Just like his daddy. "Well, Bobby Ray, in a little while we'll put something up inside, way up, and then you won't have the itch. Would you like that?"
"Ohhhhhhh, yes, daddy."
"Good, good. But do you think you could test daddy now, like a big boy?"
His chest swelled with his own boy pride. So did his little titties. Was he even aware of how hard and pointy they were, just because his cunt was being fingered? How they made daddy, fuck, how they made everyone watching, want to suck and taste and nibble and maybe even bite them, just to hear his baby boy whimpers?
I look at my watch. Shit. Less time than I thought. Okay, gotta move this along. I reached out to the drawer of the nightstand, opened it, pulled out the small can of Crisco. Yeah, I could have had one of those bottles of lube, but the size we use is really too big for him to handle, and I'm an old-fashioned guy I guess. Daddy raised me on Crisco, like his daddy raised him, and what's good for daddy's pussy, is good for his little boy's, too.
I reached under the bed for the fuck towel I kept there. Which wasn't there. Which was probably because it had gotten pretty messy the night before last. I'd put it in the laundry and forgot to put a replacement in place. No way was I going to waste precious time going down the hall to the built in shelves where we kept towels and sheets and shit like that. So what if the bedspread gets fucked. It's not as if our dry cleaner isn't familiar with cum and piss and other stains, especially since he and his teen grandsons contribute to making the stains fairly often.
I set the can on the bed, stood up, moved Bobby Ray a little, sat down, spread my legs wide and pulled Bobby Ray between my legs. His little head was down, looking right at my eagerly upstanding, aching, leaking fat meat. I knew he wasn't going to be able to get it into his mouth. Not now...and, well, shit...not for a while. The curse of a long dick is that not every kid cunt can take every inch. The curse of a fat cock, or like mine, a really fat cock, is that it takes a really well-trained mouth to be able to wrap around it. But he'd get there. Maybe not until he was eight, like his cousin Jimmy. Or I could hope for six, like Benito, the little greaser dick sucker from down the block and around the corner.
"Lick your daddy's dick, Bobby Ray." I threaded my fingers through his long, silky hair, and pulled his head all the way down to his papa's meat. His soft hands instinctively went out to rest on my thighs for balance. His hair fell forward so I couldn't see him obediently sticking out his fat pink tongue, but fuck me hard, did I feel it. Just a tiny swipe. A pause while he realized cock didn't taste bad. Then another. And another. He quickly became a world class talent. Hell, how could he not with those world class pedo genes all the way back to at least his great-great granddaddy. I should fucking...or well-fucked!...know.
I could have stayed that way for days, letting him gradually work me up to a fantastic cum just from licking, especially when he found my extra-large piss slit (thanks to some surgery when I was young and my slit was actually too small) and got his little tongue down inside. But that would have to wait for later. Someone else could get his first blowjob and cum on his face or in his throat. I still had two goals to accomplish.
I gently lifted his head, praising him, telling him what a glorious cocksucker he was, and then explaining quickly that that wasn't a bad thing to be, no matter what he heard with his little friends in pre-school. Damn know-it-all straight boys fucking with a born boy slut's mind. Then I scooted forward so my ass was almost off the bed, and told him how proud I was that he was such a good son, that he was so willing to help his daddy find out if daddy had an itch way up inside daddy's bottom hole.
Following my instructions he got down on his knees by the bed as I leaned back, raised my legs and scooted my hairy ass toward him, and then he leaned in and sniffed. And sniffed again. Deeper, leaning in toward my muscled cheeks like he was on dope. I smirked at the mirrored watchers. Got it right on the first try. Must've been that Goldilocks hat...not too much raunch when your baby boy is gonna smell and eat your man cunt for the first time, or else he might be traumatized and maybe even, God forbid, resist. Not too little, or he'd be surprised the next time he was expected to rim his daddy or some other man. No, it had to be just the right combination of sweat and body odor and wiped butt; that smell you can't resist inhaling sometimes when you use a couple of fingers to reach inside your shorts or whatever you're wearing, and swipe between your ass cheeks and across your sweaty hole. Yeah, that smell.
"Lick your daddy's pussy, Bobby Ray!"
And my baby boy did just that. Just like cock licking. A couple of hesitant touches, a little slurping sound while he tasted the tastes that went with the nice raunchy smell of his daddy's cunt, and then he kind of burrowed in. All on his fucking own! I told him what a wonderful, wonderful pussy eater he was, as my big hands reached around to hold his head and press him deeper into my hairy ass. "Breathe through your nose, little slut boy!"
I could feel the lips of my cunt opening up to swallow his tongue. Hell, to swallow his mouth, too. Eating man cunt was a lesson he needed to learn fairly quickly. His daddy and his grampa (my daddy) liked their asses eaten on their backs or on all fours. But his gampa daddy (great-grandfather on my side of the family) and his great-gampa daddy liked to sit on a little slut's face and have their holes really eaten out. His great-great-gampa daddy (the oldest of the six living generations) was versatile. His cunt got eaten by little boys in every conceivable position.
But as much as I whimpered and moaned while he ate me out (thus showing him that daddy probably did have an itch up there), I had a different agenda than jacking to a ballbusting cum while my baby boy rims my pussy. Reluctantly, I told him he had to stop. We had to go on to help daddy, because daddy was sure itching real bad. Way up inside. And he needed his good little son to help him out.
Christ but my kid is smart. He licked his index finger (just like his daddy had done) and then he stuck it up inside me. Not that that tiny fat little finger went very far. And hell, with something that small in his daddy's own world class cunt, it was kind of lost. But he had other fingers. Well, three more and a thumb.
I told him again what a good little boy he was, and asked him to get the Crisco can to the edge of the bed, next to daddy's butt. Using my left hand, fingers curled around it, to brace the can against my hip, I told him to put his right hand all the way in. He did. And wiggle it around a little. He did. And use the fingers of his left hand to smear lots and lots way up on his arm. All the way to his elbow. He did.
"Now wipe your left hand clean on daddy's hairy poo hole, son."
He did. I looked between my raised legs at his eager little face. With my right forearm holding my leg up, I showed him how a fist fucker put his fingers and thumb all close together, making a sort of diamond shape to start the trip into a man's hole after it had been loosened up. I explained how he needed to first put three fingers into his daddy's poo hole to get it ready, and then four, because daddy was itching really, really, really bad now, and he needed his good little boy's help to scratch it. And did daddy's big boy understand?
He did. He nodded vigorously to show me he understood.
And then the little shit made that fucking diamond shape and shoved his whole goddamned boy hand right into my cunt!
I screamed. No, no, it was a manly bellow. Aw, well, shit, it was a fucking scream. Followed by a gasp. Followed by jesusshitfuckCHRISTyoulittleshit! Followed by a loud order to hold his fucking hand right where it was. Followed by a realization that what with flopping back on the bed in shock at the intrusion into my hole I couldn't see him and probably had scared the shit out of him. Christ, maybe I'd even fucked things completely...although maybe not since his pointy little hand was very, very still inside me.
I raised my head to look down my chest and between my legs, more than half expecting a scared, crying son. Instead he was looking back at me with a weird smile on his little lips. "Is this fisting, daddy?" he asked as I felt his fingers and thumb shift inside me to make a fist.
"I heard great-great-gampa daddy say he liked fisting his men. He said it got him real hard shoving his fist in their sloppy holes." He experimented a little, moving his wrist and fist back and forth. I whimpered. "Do you have a sloppy hole, daddy?"
If I didn't like the way my great, great granddad, my kid's "great-great-gampa daddy" fisted me, or, well, fuck, let me fist or fuck his talented hole, I'd have been even more pissed that he'd planted the idea of fisting in my kid's head, before I got around to planting my boy's fist in my pussy. But shit, at 94, and a fucking lifetime of boy sex and teen sex and man sex, he couldn't help but be talented. Yeah, yeah, he's that old, and he's got age spots on pale white skin, and you can see his veins, and he's almost bald, and he's got a saggy belly and tits and ass, but damn! does he know how to fuck. I hope to god I'm as good when/if I get to his age. But my boy deserved an honest answer. "No, Bobby Ray, daddy doesn't have a sloppy hole."
Well, not yet. I'd seen my thoroughly used cunt on the family videos, and while I was heading in the direction of that guy whose pics are on the Net shoving all sorts of huge things up his hot ass, and how thick and brown and ridged his pussy hole is, I'm not there yet. Workin' on it, though.
I glanced sideways at my watch. Shit, shit, shit! Gotta get this fucking show, and wasn't that the truth what with the damned mirror over there, on the fucking road.
"Son, you remember I said that if you were testing a guy to see if he had an itch up inside his hole and if the guy started saying all sorts of nasty words that meant he was itching real bad way up inside his poo hole?" Okay, okay, so that wasn't exactly what the fuck I said, but I'm winging it here.
My boy nodded.
"Well, son, daddy's got a really bad itch. Really fucking bad. So you gonna help him out?"
He nodded again.
"Okay, son, now I want you to push into daddy's hole just a little oh shit piss fuck! Yes, yes, baby boy, sooo fucking good. Now hold it there, yeah, right. Okay, son, now daddy's gonna put these pillows behind his head so he can watch his wonderful boy fisting his daddy." I flailed my left arm around, although a bit carefully, until I managed by feel to grab the large square bottle of poppers. I took a couple of deep hits. God I love that smell that feel.
"Now, Bobby Ray, can you feel that kind of button or bump inside daddy. Christ, yes! That's it, that's really it. Okay, now, I want you to move your fist and your arm in and out of daddy, and try to hit that bump as much as you can. Only don't go any deeper than just before your elbow." Shit, I could probably take that plump arm all the way to his shoulder, but I'd lose it if I did, all the fucking way, and no way was I going to let that happen. I took another, deeper hit off the poppers.
"Go ahead, Bobby Ray, fist daddy's cunt. That's what it is when a man's got dick or a fist up his poo hole. Shit, boy, you're so fucking good. Helping daddy's itch, oh fuck yeah. See, daddy's got his hand around his cock and he's moving it up and down. That's jacking, son, and in a little while..." too fucking little while, but only minutes to go and promises to keep "...there's gonna be a lot of white stuff coming out of daddy's dickie. That's daddy cream, and it's hot and thick and really, really good for little boys to suck up off their daddy."
More poppers as Bobby Ray started to get into it. He was a strong little boy. His greasy forearm and tiny fist began doing the best imitation of a jackhammer that he could.
"Oh yeah fuck yeah, Bobby Ray. So fucking good. My baby boy, my son, fucking his daddy's greased up pussy, fisting daddy's cunt! Fuck me, son, fuck your daddy, fist him hard. Okay, it's okay, just make a fist again and shove it back in. CHRIST SHIT FUCK! Yeah, yeah, that's it baby boy work your daddy's pussy hole while daddy hurts his tits and jacks and shit piss motherfuck! Cumming boy, cuuuummmmmmming!"
And with that my fat cock began spewing hot globs of daddy cream all the way up to my chin. But as good as it was, I clamped down and stopped it after the first couple of spurts. Not even enough time to check my watch to be sure. I knew where the rest of the daddy cream was supposed to go, and fucking well was gonna go.
I managed to raise my head. Fortunately, Bobby Ray had stopped moving when he felt my cunt walls clamping down on him when I started cumming. "Good boy, son. Very fucking good. Now take your arm out of daddy's hole. Gently! Ahhhh, yeah, that's it." I could feel the cooler air of the room on my gaping hole.
"Now climb up here on the bed, son, so daddy can take care of your itch."
"But I don't have an itch, daddy!"
Damn. Back to the "dignant" bit. It was only my imagination, but for a split second I thought I could hear the howls of laughter from behind the mirror.
I had to go with the stern, almost at the "don't you fuck with your daddy" stage, tone of voice. "Bobby Ray, don't argue with your daddy. You remember when I tested you, and how you whimpered and moaned?"
He reluctantly nodded.
"And doesn't that mean you're going to have an itch up inside your poo hole real soon?"
Where the fuck does this bullshit of mine come from? Daddy never used this on me. He nodded again. Of course, I had already seen my daddy fucking my older brother, and I was jealous enough to almost demand that daddy do it to me.
"Well, then, do what daddy says and get on the bed." He did.
I had him stand, facing me, his legs straddling my belly. A difficult position to maintain with those chubby legs, but it wasn't going to be for long. I picked up the Crisco in my left hand, sort of rested it on my pecs, and greased up the first three fingers of my right hand. When I looked up at Bobby Ray, his eyes were really fucking wide. I moved the can out of the way, and with my left hand at the little boy's waist and hip for support, I reached between his legs and slid my index finger all the way into his virgin pussy. He gasped. Then a little way out, and curled and stroked over his baby boy button. He moaned.
The moan was louder when I put two fingers in. He gasped, and his back went rigid when I made a triangle of the three greasy fingers and shoved them deep. He also half-shouted, "Oh, fuck, daddy!" And then clamped both hands over his mouth. He'd said the ultimate bad word.
I just laughed and he lowered his hands in surprise. "See, son? What did I tell you? If a man is getting his hole tested for an itch and he starts saying nasty words like that, like I did just a little while ago, it means he does have an itch. And daddy wouldn't lie to you, would he?"
The fuck he wouldn't, if it would mean daddy cock in kid cunt. He shook his head, shivering a little with the sensations of my fingers stretching him wide, and lubing his tight, almost not virgin, hole. His pussy walls relaxed around the probing fingers. "Feels good, doesn't it, Bobby Ray?"
"Oh, fuck, yeah, daddy," he whispered. Not a bad-word blink, this time.
Of course the good feeling was going to go away for a while in the very fucking near future. Far, far away like the damned kingdom. I slid my fingers out of his moist hot hole, spread the Crisco on my still hard, aching, leaking cock. I'm lucky. When I'm really horny, I can sort of stop part way through my first cum by clamping it off, stay hard, and then immediately go for a second, bigger, better cum. Like fucking now.
I moved Bobby Ray back so he was half squatting, half kneeling over me, the fairly pointed knob end of my dick nudging his greasy cunt lips. I steadied him with my left, and used my right to get my cock right where it should be, just the piss slit between his ass lips. I put my hands firmly on his waist and pushed down. Hard. My precious son screamed the wonderful scream of a baby boy losing his cherry to his daddy's strong fat meat.
The room was sound proofed, of course, so we didn't have the neighbors charging over to rescue whoever was doing that awful shouting and screaming and wailing. Although Frank, on the west side, would have rushed over to see who was getting dicked and whether he could get in the pussy, too, at some point. Sloppy seconds, fuck, sloppy tenths never bother Frank.
His wail trailed off into a whimper. I held him still to let him get used to the feeling, though the knob end wasn't actually as wide as my three fingers. I knew he would. As all of the men in the family did when they first got their virgin cunts plowed by man meat. Then I pushed him an inch or so farther down and he got his first real feel of how fucking big his daddy's dick is.
"Daddy, it hurts!"
"I know, son, I know," I said in as soothing a tone as my lust ravaged body could manufacture. "But it's only for a little while. Soon, real soon, it's gonna feel great and then it won't ever hurt like this again."
Liar, liar, boy fucking cock on fire!
Yeah, eventually he wouldn't feel much pain when dick started going into his kid cunt, but with the size dicks in our family, and among the men who were...I glanced over at the mirror...literally or figuratively lining up to use him, it was going to be a while. But the "feel great" (once past the pain) part was absolute truth. I should know. I could still remember my own first fuck by my daddy, and granddad, and great-granddad.
He was almost on all fours on my belly, with a good part of my dick in his poo hole. I gave myself a hit off the poppers, and then did the same for Bobby Ray. He screwed up his face in distaste at the smell as I moved the bottle to his fat little nose, but a sharp "Bobby Ray!" got him to follow the customary directions...hold one nostril shut, inhale with the other, repeat as needed. After several repeats his eyes began to glaze and his body flushed. I quickly took a few more myself, screwed the cap on, dropped the bottle, grabbed his fat waist and shoved my meat all the way inside. The fucking heat was incredible. The wailing "oh fuck daddy" was adorable.
I bent my legs so my knees were up. Raised him so he was almost straight up. Scooped up some of my cold cum with a greasy finger, and began applying daddy cum and Crisco to his very, very stiff little dickie, as his fat belly jiggled with his daddy's fuck thrusts.
And then my time was obviously up, since I heard the door opening. Bobby Ray didn't notice, what with short fat daddy dick fucking his pussy, and a greasy, cummy daddy hand stroking his pricklet, but he sure noticed when dad asked, "Does my favorite grandson like getting his boy pussy fucked?"
Bobby Ray's head whirled around, along with part of his torso, but I wouldn't let him move enough to lose control of my main objective, son cunt fucking. My son's eyes widened, with surprise, I'm sure, and maybe some embarrassment to see his grandfather on his dad's side, and his great-grandfather, standing in the doorway. Naked. Sporting full hardons. Dad's is a good eight inches long, but not as thick as mine. Granddad is about seven and thin. I'd wondered who Dad was going to invite, and halfway anticipated half the family rushing over and watching through the two-way mirror, but he must have decided to keep it reasonably intimate.
I would have preferred to have his first fuck all to myself, but a little more than an hour ago, dad told me he was fucking fed up with waiting to fuck his youngest grandson, and I had an hour if I wanted to get any boy cherry busting done, and then he was going to do it himself. Well, a father has to rise to the occasion, doesn't he? If he's going to be a good father? And have first crack at his son's ass cunt?
My fucking and dickie jacking got Bobby Ray's mind off his grandfathers, for a moment, and back where a boy slut's attention belonged: on his dickie and his being-used cunt. The two came into the room, not bothering to shut the door. If anyone else arrived they'd see the open door and know they were welcome to join in. And dad and granddad wasted no time in doing just that.
Granddad got on the bed, lowered himself to his knees on either side of me and sat his ass down on my face. Christ but I love sucking ass. Family ass especially. And he was all greased up. Had granddad been getting fucked by his son, while watching me fuck mine? I eagerly started working my tongue up inside but couldn't smell or taste cum, just the scent and taste of summer raunchy granddaddy ass and juices and Crisco. Granddad had taken over the job, yeah right!, of jacking his little great grandson, while I thrust my hips up and down and fucked his definitely no longer virgin pussy.
I was really getting into the whole thing when I felt dad's hand...his very fucking Crisco greasy hand...on my man cunt. The bastard. The goddamn son fucking grandson fucking shit bastard. He knows...from years of damned experience...that if I have a fist in my cunt and my cock in a pussy, especially a boy pussy, I'm going to cum pretty damned hard, and pretty goddamned fast.
He was nice enough to just put four fingers in first, all the way to the thumb, and move them around, opening my hole wider than it had been for a fat little boy's fist and fat forearm. And then he tucked his thumb in, and punched through. My own scream, more of lust than pain after all these years, was muffled by granddad's now spit wet and greasy hole.
Then granddad shifted forward and up. I gulped in air and tried not to lose control. Losing fucking proposition. My dad's fist working my man cunt; my hips writhing and thrusting my fat meat harder and faster and deeper into my little one's boy pussy. Oh shit fuck. Granddad raising the little one's head and sliding his cock deep into the mouth, fuck, into the throat of his own young great grandson. I couldn't resist. Awkward as all fucking hell but I managed to get my right arm out of the confusion of boy body and daddy and granddaddy and great-granddaddy bodies, and start working granddad's greasy, thoroughly lubed pussy. A couple of fingers, then three, then four, and finally my fist.
We were out of our fucking minds with perverted family lust, with Bobby Ray at the core. His hot little boy pussy spread wide and dicked deep by his daddy's meat. Daddy getting fisted by his daddy. Bobby Ray's great granddaddy fucking his precious tiny kid mouth while getting his own cunt fisted. The obscenities spewed from lips that weren't surrounding cocks, the sheer depravity of what we said heightening everyone's enjoyment. We all moved harder and faster and deeper in the holes our dicks and hands were in until Bobby Ray went over the edge with one, then another, and another and another earthquake style dry cums, his tight pussy walls clamping and releasing my cock, my daddy's fist tormenting my own cunt and I blew long and deep and hard into my baby boy's bowels, and Bobby Ray's great-granddaddy spewed chunks of hot steamy cum down into the boy's belly.
When we stopped heaving and gasping and grunting, the newest family boy slut had passed out, laying on my belly with my softening meat in his pussy. Granddad held very, very still as I eased my fist out of his hole. Daddy, the shit prick bastard, just pulled his own fist out, then rubbed my slimy pussy lips with the palm of his hand. Granddad raised up and off me, as daddy wasted no time going after what he wanted. After all, he hadn't cum yet. Well, at least not yet in this room with this group. Who the fuck knew what he'd done and to whom earlier.
Dad slid my limp, unconscious little boy off daddy meat, and put him belly down over a pillow next to me. Then he shoved his dick into the gaping boy hole, balls fucking deep, which naturally woke up Bobby Ray. Nobody stays unconscious through daddy getting his dick in your ass, not meat that big and long.
"Move, boy," granddad said to me. My legs were a little rubbery for a second as I got up, turned, and went back down on the bed on all fours, my knees close to the edge, my calves and feet dangling over the floor. Granddad rolled off the side, stood, picked up the Crisco can and moved behind me. He knew that his own son's fuck of Bobby Ray was going to be a long and leisurely plowing of the kid cunt, so he figured on a slower fuck himself so he wouldn't be bored just standing around watching. After all, he'd just taken the edge off fucking his great grandson's throat. He greased up his hand and arm, and started fisting me. I knew in a while he'd have his dick in there too, and jack off while he was fisting me.
Poppers made the rounds. Father and son pussies getting fucked by father and son cocks. Four males satisfying the family itch...the need to frequently have cock in your cunt.
Resting my weight on my forearms, I twisted my head left and back so I could see my wonderful little slut son. "How's that itch, Bobby Ray?" I whispered. I could see most of my daddy's proud meat moving in and out of that fat ass, spearing those cheeks.
I'm pretty sure he would've said something smart ass. Like I said, my boy's awfully damned smart. What came out, though, was, a shouted "Oh! Shit piss fuck grampa! Fuck my pussy boy ass and scratch my goddamn cunt itch!"
Bobby Ray's grampa did what he was told, sending Bobby Ray into another obviously great cum. My grampa didn't have to be told. He did the same for me.
I don't think Bobby Ray really realized how many man were going to be helping him out with his "problem." All of us, again, in a little while. Whoever dropped by the house later today. And tomorrow morning, the driver of the bus taking him to day care. The two men who owned and operated the center. The daddies who brought their little boys there to be shared. Yeah, Bobby Ray's boy pussy itch was going to be taken care of from now on. Regularly. And very, very well.
End note: If you want the not-for-Nifty version, or a list of my stories and where to find them, let me know.