Incest Tales 7
By DannyR (MM/b (5), oral, anal, incest, pedo)
Copyright 2006. 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. Now that we're clear on what's what, and what's not, read on.
NOTE ON STORY NUMBERS: Once upon a time there was an Incest Tale #6 at Nifty. It was called "It's a Wonderful Life." It was posted for about 36 hours before someone complained to the powers-that-have-been-are-and-will-be that I had violated one of the Nifty publishing rules. Okay, maybe more than one. So They Who Rule yanked the story. When I asked what happened I got a courteous email back explaining what a dumb shit I was for violating Rule 45(b)(3)(A)(xvi). Oops. Well, all joking aside, Nifty is not my site and the owners have a perfect right to set rules as a condition for posting stories. So while I don't agree with the particular rule (but you know, there's that whole disagree/defend to the death thing), I either abide by the rules or take my marbles and play elsewhere. Since I already have enough marbles problems, particularly with reference to the losing thereof, this story meets the standards. As will future ones...at least at Nifty. But if you didn't catch the "It's a Wonderful Life" show in those magic 36 hours, and are interested in getting a copy...write and let me know.
I've always considered myself a right-hand pedophile. Oops. I should probably say "boy lover." That's the phrase most writers on Nifty use, like it somehow conceals what they're writing about. Hell, until a few years before this all happened, I couldn't even use the word "boy lover" about myself. Even if the Nifty stories I jacked off to most often, and came best to, involved men fucking little boys. Men and teens were hot, yeah. But it was all those M/b, or MMMM/b stories that got me hardest. So about three years before the beach, I finally took the big step and came out. Strictly inside my own head. There, I admitted to my large group of friends (me and myself) that I was a pedophile. But a right-hand pedo.
You see, if you're a right-hand pedo (okay, okay, so there are some left-hand pedos out there, too) it means you're virgin, that you've never touched a boy in real life, never intend to, but damn! your right (left) hand and your cock get a workout jacking off to pedo porn stories. Now if you're a smart right/left-hand pedo, you also stay away from pics and movies and DVDs and whatever. And from chat groups where you start "talking" to a young boy/young teen and start making comments about perhaps just meeting, you know, kid, a little get-together out in public so you feel safe, I'm really safe, I'm not going to hurt you, and maybe we can go back to my hotel after that and really, fucking your tight little ass won't hurt at all. Well, so far you can't be arrested for what you read or what you think. But like someone said (and this line is definitely stolen): The Internet is where men are men, women are men, and children are the FBI.
I'm a smart right-hand pedo. Smart before I "came out." Smart after. Well, at least for three whole years. I guess I hit a fucking mid-life-stupidity crisis right after my birthday. Must have or what I'm about to tell you never would have happened.
Fifty-two. Restless. Lots of unused vacation time. So when a friend suggests that a group of us get together on the coast for a beach vacation, but after the summer season is over and the rates drop, I say what the fuck (to myself) and agree. There were seven of us. Three women, four men. And the beach house we rented had only three bedrooms. Diane and Charlie were roommates, and just roommates since Charlie was one of the three fags in the group, so they took one bedroom. The other two women took the second bedroom. Ted was the second queer, John was straight. But also a confident straight who didn't mind sharing close quarters with a gasp! faggot who might get a glimpse of John's cock and balls and ass. I wound up on the bed on the porch. Since there was no air conditioning, not that it was needed in October, it was nice and comfortable and modestly private. But I'd pretty much resigned myself to no jacking off for the duration. With only one bathroom, there wasn't time during a shower to do anything that'd be fun, and it was all too likely, considering this group, that if I thought myself private and was working my dick hard in my porch bed, long after dark and we'd all gone to bed, one of them would come out for some fresh air at just the wrong time.
It was a fun trip. We did the sight-seeing shit, but mostly we just relaxed and let all the fucking stress in our lives drain right out. Then came the late Thursday afternoon when someone, Ted, I think, suggested that we all go to...well, I think I won't say where. Yeah, yeah, I'm being coy, but I really don't want to give you any clues where this happened. Anyway, I decided it wasn't for me. And fortunately, this wasn't one of those group vacation things where everyone was joined together with leg irons and chains so we marched one by one by one to the same destination all the time. I decided instead I'd just go read on the beach for a while and then maybe come back and take a nap until they all got back and we could fix the big meal we'd planned.
The troops went, uh, trooping off. I grabbed two of the books I'd brought along, so I could make up my mind when I got there which one I really wanted to read. Picked up one of those ordinary folding chairs that came with the house, you know the kind, made out of aluminum tubes with that plastic webbing stuff. Walked on the kind-of-nervous-making, very weathered wooden walkway past the row of "beach houses" that were the second tier back from the beach (our rental was third tier, which also contributed to the nice price), and then past the first tier (the actual, some huge and palatial, some ordinary, on the damned beach, beach houses) and there I was.
Houses to the right of me, houses to the left of me as far as my near-sighted eyes could see through my glasses. Not an occupant to be found. Hey, the rich people who can afford the actual, some huge and palatial, etc., beach houses weren't dumb enough to stick around after the "season," when they could probably afford to go somewhere else where there was also a beach but it was warm. A long stretch of sand mixed with shells and stones and this and that, and then a quiet ocean. Well, relatively so. There was still that glorious sound I'd maybe heard before when I was very, very young and on a family vacation, but not as an adult. The sound of waves coming in, slapping the beach in a friendly, come play with me kind of way, and then heading out again, a wave looking over its shoulder to see if I was following. Cool air, and full of humidity and salt and the smells of a beach and ocean.
I walked out about ten, fifteen feet from the end of the walkway and the stairs, found a spot on the beach, pulled the chair into sitting position, plopped my ass down, draped a towel around my shoulders (no skin delicacy, just cool, almost cold air as if it might rain), decided on the book du jour, set the other one down on the sand, opened to where I'd left off, and then before I lost myself in the words I took a look at my surroundings.
And froze when my eyes went left.
About ten feet to my left was a row of railroad ties that made a reasonably straight line toward the ocean. Where I was there was just one tie, but as they headed down the slope of the beach toward the water, someone had built it up so that by the time it got to the water's edge it was maybe three or four ties high. Kind of a wall that says "stay the fuck off my part of the beach."
What I hadn't noticed in walking down from the steps...can we say "blinders" everyone?...was the group on the other side of the railroad tie. A group of three. A woman in a one-piece bathing suit, not fat but a little on the plump side, sitting on the blanket, on a blanket, with her back to the ocean, dark hair, sun glasses despite the obvious lack of need (late in the day, overcast, give me a break). I'm not good at guessing a woman's age even close up, but definitely not fifteen or so feet away. Twenties, maybe?
Then there was the man. He was sitting on his haunches facing the water. Older than me I was sure. Sixty-plus. Dark, thick, curly hair, with lots of silver in it. Really, really dark skin that was either natural, or the kind of tan the government doesn't want to allow you to have in case you get cancer or something and therefore make the insurance companies or the government cough up the health care you've already paid for, but which they find so much more profitable when you follow orders and don't use it. Lots of chest hair with the same mixture of curls, dark and silver. Old fashioned swimming trunks. Boxer style with the kind of elastic whatever inside the waistband that you pull to the right tightness, and then tie in a nice neat bow. And yeah, I could see one looped end of the bow bright white against his little belly. He was looking down and laughing at...laughing with?...the third member of the group.
A child. A young child. A very young child. Four? Five? Six? What the fuck do I know about guessing a little child's age? I'm queer, no kids, no experience. But age was only the second most important thing. The most important thing is, the child was stark, fucking, naked. I didn't know that at first, not for all of a second and a half until the child stood up with its back to me and I could see the light golden tan from the waist up, and on the legs, and plump, bright white buttocks. The kind I fantasized about when my right hand was making use of my First Amendment rights with a downloaded story. The kind I'd never seen before in real life. The kind I'd only seen in pictures from the Coppertone adds, or one of those flash-and-it's-gone moments in a movie, and those were things that had never gotten me horny, never even made my dick twitch or caused "lust in my heart."
Okay, now the no-pics thing is not quite true. I'd forgotten until this moment that there was one picture. Not that it could have been classified as porn. It was of a young boy, and I really don't remember his age, or even if I ever knew it. It was a long time ago, and my fuzzy brain (missing marbles, remember?) says he was probably in the 9-10-11 range. No cock visible. Just a boy with his shirt on, and his pants down under his butt cheeks and a slender ass showing nice and clear. I saw it in a place where I had a right to be, and the picture was legal and made for a legitimate, non-kiddy-porn reason, and no, I'm not going to explain more than that.
It also hit me in the gut with the kind of feeling you get when you're suddenly very, very horny. So I quietly borrowed the picture, went to the nearest men's room and jacked off looking at it, but oddly enough the sex fantasies in my head were not of that actual boy but the faceless, almost bodiless images that appear when I'm reading and jacking to a story I've downloaded. It didn't take me long to cum, and then I equally quietly put the picture back. No one knew it had been gone for those few minutes. And though I might have had access to it again, I made damned sure it never happened again. And made damned sure there was no chance I ever came into contact to the boy himself.
Anyway, I'm trying not to gape and then the kid turns around and sees me, and it was a boy. When he waved with a big grin on his face, a wave that made his whole body move, including the tiny cock and balls that wiggled back and forth for a moment, I suddenly found myself multitasking: trying not to gape, trying not to drool, trying to get as good an image in my head as I could for jacking off later only there was going to be no fucking later until maybe I could find a john in some restaurant we ate in, or a gas station, or whatever, trying not to get caught by the two I assumed were his mother and grandfather, staring like the freak pervert I'd suddenly become. I've never been good at multitasking. Jacking and reading at the same time is pretty much my limit of simultaneous multiple doing of things.
So I wasn't surprised...embarrassed as hell, afraid as hell that I'd get accused of something and arrested, although what I could be guilty of on a beach a dozen feet from a naked kid with me decently clothed and not exposing myself and jacking...when I got busted. By the grandfather. Only all he did was give me a friendly smile and a nod. Which I sort of returned in a half-assed, please don't recognize me for a pedo who's turned on by your naked little grandson, way. And tried not to give myself whiplash as I turned my head back to face the ocean, picked up the book and pretended to read.
Pretended was the operative word. I'd never once imagined that I'd ever see a naked boy in real life. Okay, so I had seen naked boys when I was one and we were playing doctor or whatever, which meant playing with each others' hard little dicks. But never as an adult. Hell, I even go out of my way to avoid being anywhere close to children in public. If I'm in a public restroom (get over yourself, not the cruising kind) and I'm in a stall and I hear kid voices, I finish quickly and leave. I leave even faster, as in cut the piss, zip, forget the washing hands bit, exit, if I'm at a urinal and kids or even young teens come in, and especially so if they pick one close to me, or God forbid (yeah, I'm serious, God forbid) next to me. No way am I going to take a chance on a false accusation.
I swore to myself on a stack of religious texts I didn't own that I wouldn't look back over there.
Right then I was like a gambling addict who'd only casually thought of trying to stop, and then gets handed a set of dice and told it's his turn to roll.
Of course, I was clever. I waited until it was possible for me to have a read a lot of pages of my fascinating book so I wouldn't be obvious. Okay, a page. Okay, okay, a paragraph. So give me a fucking break, it was a sentence. Or half of one. I sat up straight, stretched my head back like my neck was a little strained from all that long, intense reading I'd been doing. Turned a little to the right to get the kinks out. A little to the left, but not far enough to see anything. All the way to the right, and then slow back all the way to the left.
The woman was gone, or maybe she was in the process of leaving and I just couldn't see her with all that tunnel vision operating, a fucking TV camera focusing in on just one, okay, two things. The naked little boy who was still naked, only this time his little bottom was planted on the railroad tie, straddling it, his legs spread and that wonderful little cock...a tiny prick I imagined was hard since he really couldn't/shouldn't/wouldn't be...and tight little ball sack were both very visible. The other thing was grandpa, of course, though I couldn't really see him too clearly, just peripheral vision, but I was sure he was watching me watch the naked kid.
Then I did something I knew was stupid but when your very ordinary cock is hard and doing what it rarely does on its own and without a little help from a friendly hand, like leaking precum, a lot of precum, you get kind of stupid, stupider, stupidest. I closed my eyes, dropped my head down and did that tuck your chin to your chest and make a big circle with your head to relax your neck thing. A slow circle to the right so that when my head tilted back and continued the circle I ended where I started, with my head facing left. And opened my eyes.
Christ, the boy had his right hand between his legs. Playing with himself. Okay, okay, a fucking fantasy, he was just scratching. I let myself stare. Fuck the grandfather. I was nowhere near his grandkid, what could he do, what accusation could he make? Though, of course, the mere accusation could fuck my life over. But guess which head was doing to the damned non-thinking in that particular moment? There I was with lust in my heart, lust in my dick and aching balls, lust in every body part above, below and all around, out on a frigging beach in full view of all the people who weren't in their homes, just grandpa and fuck him if he can't take a joke. So I stared for as long as I figured I could get away with it before grandpa charged over with the railroad tie to bash my brains out. And then just a little longer. And then I turned back to my book and made myself read.
My foggy brain had been wildly snapping 35-mm full color pictures I intended to store and develop later, as in once I was in that toilet with dick in my hand, and part of me wanted a look at those pictures right fucking then. But I made myself read, forced my mind away from images and memories I was grateful to have since that's all they were ever going to be, and got engrossed in the book. And when I'm engrossed, Bush could come up beside me, announce that he was going to support a constitutional amendment to protect the right of gays to marry, a/k/a the end of the world as we know it, and 99 times out of a 100 I wouldn't hear a thing.
This was number 100. Which is why I jumped halfway to a lunar orbit when this deep voice says, right behind me and to my left, "Good afternoon. I'm Jeremiah."
Once my ass was back in the chair and my breathing was under control I was going to turn around and say, "Jesus fucking Christ, what the fuck do you think you're doing?" I managed the turn, and the "Jesus f..." part, but stopped. It was grandpa. And the little boy. Standing next to him, holding onto grandpa's left hand. Still naked. And God have mercy on my pedo soul, I could see he was hard. I gulped. Couldn't do more. Well, my right hand started toward my now hard again dick but I made it stop.
"This is my great grandson, Isaiah."
I heard the twinkle in his eyes when he said, "At this point you are supposed to assure us how pleased you are to have been introduced."
More vocal twinkle, edging toward outright laughter. "Very well. Thank you for being pleased to meet us. Although I do agree that Isaiah's hard little dick is somewhat distracting."
"What?" It wasn't quite a bellow, well, definitely not a bellow even if we were alone on the beach as far as the eye could see north, south, and out to sea, and behind all the shuttered windows of the empty houses.
Definite laughter. Then, "You mean you weren't staring at his fat little ass when you looked the first time, or staring at him playing with himself when you looked the second time?"
Busted. So fucking busted. "I was looking, okay? So the f...uh...what? I haven't done anything wrong and it's a public beach. And you and that woman decided to have him naked where anyone could see."
"Quite true. Where anyone at all could see, although the likelihood was small, given the date. I rather expected we'd be alone on the beach as all the others have abandoned us for warmer locations. Where are you staying?"
Okay, so he wasn't going to bash my head. So he was tacitly allowing me to go on staring. I could live with that. "Third star to the left and straight on to morning."
He actually laughed.
"Or else it's the third row back on the left of the walkway."
"Yeah. Three women, three other men."
"With you the, uh, odd man out?"
My turn to laugh, glance up at him, and then go back to drinking in the tiny boy's plump little belly and the way the white flesh where his swim suit had been seemed to glow against his tan. "Well, perhaps just a little bit more odd than the rest. A straight woman and her gay roommate in bedroom one. Two women whose interests are questionable in bedroom two. A queer man and a breeder man in bedroom three. Me on the porch."
"And are they back in the house?"
This time I did look up at him. "What? You overdosed on Law and Order and think you're Jack McCoy cross-examining me on the stand?"
Another smile. His face was deeply lined, his eyes dark and large, with a definite large nose that went with his parents' choice of names. Brilliant white teeth against his skin. "Just curious.... Well, you haven't told me your name, have you?"
"So, Alex, are they likely to come down to the beach anytime soon?"
"They're all gone. Probably for another hour or two. At least."
"Excellent. I asked because I was merely wondering if they were likely to come down to the beach and interrupt if you decided to fuck Isaiah."
"If I decided to fu...fu.... Shit. If I decided to what?"
"I am quite sure you heard me, Alex. I just asked you if you wanted to slide your hard dick in my great-grandson's hot little hole. Which is, of course, the definition of `fuck Isaiah.'"
I gulped and shut my eyes. This was a trap. The thought police had found me out and the kid was wired, well, no the kid was naked, and great-grandpa was almost naked except for the baggy brown swimsuit, but hey, that could have a microphone in it, right in his crotch so it was close to my head and could catch everything. Yeah, a microphone that was broadcasting to where? A ship beyond the horizon that was gonna send out helicopters loaded with troops to arrest the beach pedo terrorist as soon as he agreed his cock and the rest of him really, really, really liked that idea? A police squad in full SWAT armor past the dunes, past the rows/tiers/layers/whateverthefucks of houses, just waiting for the signal to storm the beach?
I decided to be subtle. "Well, that's a nice, uh, interesting fantasy."
Jeremiah decided to be blunt. "Isaiah, how old are you?"
The boy giggled. "I'm five, grampa. You know that."
He smiled down at the boy, and asked, "And who has fucked your pretty little ass?"
"Well, you, `n grampa Ben, `n daddy, `n uncle Solomon, `n...."
"Very good, Isaiah. Now, would you like to have Alex here stick his dick inside you and fuck you?"
Isaiah looked at me. A gentle, tiny, wide-eyed, innocent...damn...frequently fucked little slut boy. "Oh, yes, please."
"Well, Alex?" He lifted one eyebrow at me. I've always wished I could do that. "This is your chance to live out one of your fantasies."
"What the fuck do you know about my fantasies?" Despite my general level of I've-gotta-cum-before-I-kill-or-go-blind horniness, that pissed me off.
His reply was still soft, the friendly smile still there. "I am an astute elder statesman, or elder pedo if you prefer, and very observant, and I could see everything you wished you could do to little Isaiah the first time I saw you see him. But if you're not actually interested...."
Right. Sure. The Pope wasn't Catholic. Bush wasn't/isn't a right wing secret fundamentalist who got us into a war that never should have happened, didn't plan for it and now can't get us out of the quagmire before his war bankrupts the country. And I wasn't interested in fucking this little boy. Right.
"Somehow I thought that would be your response."
"Okay, okay, astute elder pedo body language reader. So where's this gonna happen?"
"Here. Now." He stopped me before I could start sputtering. "Do you see anyone on the beach? The houses are all empty except for yours and your friends are gone for another hour. And fucking a little boy on a beach generates a great deal of pleasure. Despite there being no one to watch you do it. Or rather, to watch us do it."
Except for people with telescopes in houses. Ships with people with telescopes. Fucking spy satellites. Wait. Us?
While my mind was babbling and my dick was leaking, Jeremiah...I got the feeling he wouldn't take kindly to "Jerry"...let go of the boy's hand, flipped the large blanket he'd been holding in his right hand, the blanket I sure as hell hadn't noticed, around his shoulders and loosened the knot at his waist. Then he sat down on the sand, fluffed the blanket out so it was almost like a tent behind him for a moment, and then tugged the boy around to stand in front of him.
Isaiah stood there facing his great-grandfather and played with his stiff little dick, while great-grandpa pulled the front of his now very loose trunks down so that his large cock and damned large balls were free. I'd never seen a cock like it before. Not in any porn, not in my imagination. Large because of thickness, though none of this porn story beer can-thick shit, and probably an inch or so longer than my own respectable, but much more slender, six or so inches. Not as pale white as the little boy's flesh, but the dark skin was definitely sun, lots and fucking lots of sun. Lots of hair, too, long and thick and curly, dark and silver, around the base of his meat and all over his balls. Damn that was some prick. Stood out at a sharp angle away from his belly, cut (duh), with heavy veins that twined around like he'd tied flesh-colored ropes in a weird pattern up the whole column to a very large head with one of the biggest piss slits I've ever seen. A piss slit that was oozing thick precum.
He reached out to fondle his great grandson's cock and balls. "So where would you like my dick, Isaiah?"
"In my little cunt, grampa."
Christ. I was going to cum without touching myself.
"Shouldn't you get it wet first?"
The boy smiled, wide, wider, widest and just nodded his head eagerly, and then dropped to his knees, leaned over with his fat ass cheeks in the air, and started slobbering spit all over great-grandpa's dick. The old man waited until the tiny boy was deep-throating his meat, to suck on his first two fingers, to get them nice spit wet, and then lean forward so he could shove them up his great-grandson's hole. The kid just grunted and spread his knees and raised his hips a little to give better access. I groped myself and groaned, too.
The old man looked up and smiled at me, pleased that I was enjoying watching his cocksucking great-grandson get finger fucked. He pulled the fingers out, and I couldn't resist. "Please," I whispered.
He caught on and stretched his hand up to me. Fuck the watchers if they couldn't take a joke. I inhaled the scent of the kid's asshole, all mixed with fresh air and salt and ocean tang, and then did my own slurping and slobbering. Except the old man put another finger in my mouth. I whimpered around it but got them all wet. Whimpered again when he started fucking the kid with those three fingers. Fucked him with no problems, with every sign of enthusiasm from the little cocksucker.
When he pulled them out he didn't offer them to me. Instead he reached into a pocket in his trunks while I watched his right hand caress the tiny boy's face and then hold his head down while he thrust his hips up hard. The kid gagged and choked and sputtered and inhaled with a gasp when his head was let loose. Great-grandpa had other things to occupy his hands. Like the squarish brown bottle. The one that said "Man Scent" on the side. He took several hits, held the bottle under the boy's nose and let him take a hit in each nostril, held it up for me, did himself again, twisted the cap tight, and then used both hands to hold his great-grandson's head in place while he face fucked the kid.
I used my own hit to unzip my shorts, drag my cock out and start jacking while I watched. Fuck. Poppers and dicks and little boy cunt on a fucking beach in daylight. Fuck! And the poppers just went on and on, I couldn't believe how long just that brief couple of snorts lasted. The old man smiled up at me when he saw the glaze clear from my eyes.
"You like poppers."
"Christ, yeah. But those...."
His smile got wider, more wicked. "I emptied the bottle. Filled it with real amyl. Several times actually, since it got used so fast."
"Yeah, that's the idea."
We all took another round of hits, longer and deeper. This time he fucked the oh so small boy harder, using the kid's head like one of those fuck dolls, holding onto it tight with both hands while he pumped it up and down on his cock, burying the little's one nose in his pubes while his cock pulsed deep in the boy's throat. And he started mutter obscenities at the kid, calling him a cum dump fucking cock whore that was gonna be raised right, just like his great-grandpa had been, just like grampa raised the boy's daddy and the boy's own grandson. Fuck, fuck, fuck. A whole line of pedo fuckers. And grandpa had invited me in for a fuck.
When that buzz wore off, Jeremiah looked up at me, fucking the tiny kid's face more slowly. He quirked that eyebrow again at my expression. "I had cock in one of my holes, usually both, every day growing up, as far back as I can remember. Daddy, my grandfathers, my uncles, my older brothers. I was a pussy boy, a cum dump slut whore for my family. And for the special men. The men my father or his father wanted something from. Something they could best get with my very talented boy twat and mouth. Or maybe my father or his father just wanted to get off watching my little tight holes get used by another man, any man, a stranger off the street, a group of strangers gang banging my butt, filling me with cum until they were all done and daddy or grandpa fucked my sloppy, cum filled pussy hard and deep. And my son, and his son, and my little Isaiah here were raised the same way. Tradition, you know."
I smiled back as he lifted the boy's head away from his crotch. The veins bulged even more on the slick wet cock. The young boy knew just what to do. He stood up, turned around, backed up his hands spreading those oh-so-fuckable butt cheeks wide, and began to squat on Jeremiah's oozing cock. Once the thick head was past the ass lips and tightly held in the kid's cunt, the old man took him by the waist and pulled him down hard and fast. The boy whimpered and thrashed and all the while had a huge smile on his face.
Although my dick was so hard it was painful, I only squeezed and groped it a little as I watched the kid fuck because if I'd actually stroked it I'd have wasted a whole load of cum on the fucking beach air. The old man handed me the poppers so I could do him while he went on fucking. A couple of good hits for me. The expression on his face said he wanted to make this a long fuck, knew it couldn't be, so he got the boy in place, kind of half-sitting, half-squatting over the fuck stick buried in his boy cunt, and then started to use the kid's hole like he'd use his mouth, pulling him up, shoving him down, the muscles in his arms bulging, the kid moaning in obvious lust and suddenly jerking and twitching in a dry cum and going limp while his great-grandpa went on and on, fucking his little hole.
Jeremiah went off into his own little world, too, talking to the boy, talking to me, too, but mostly to himself. "So hot, so fucking hot, fucking my baby boy's hole while a fucking stranger watches and jacks and waits his turn. Oh yeah, using the little cum dump's twat out in public, on a goddamned beach, and once the stranger has used his holes I'll start taking him with me to malls and parks where there lots of dirty men, dirty old men, men who'll want to fuck his pussy, fuck his mouth, yeah, use my precious fucking baby great grandson slut whore, watch him get used by a business man in Armani so I can make a deal, let a young teen take him back to the toilet in a plane and use the kid's pussy so the teen can join the mile high club. Get the family together, take him to a rest stop, fuck his baby pussy and fill it with cum one right after the other, turn him over to the truckers to fuck and suck and fill his holes with cum and piss and oh FUCK!!!!!"
And then they were both cumming. Incoherent fuck-fuck-fucks from the old man while he obviously blasted the kid's pussy full of spooge, wails and whimpers and near howls as the boy went through more cums, over and over until the boy stopped. Drooped. But the old man recovered and lifted the boy off his cock, turned him around and told the kid, "Clean my cock, you fucking little whore."
The boy dropped between the old man's again spread open legs and leaned over to lick the mostly hard cock clean of spit and his own ass juices. "Feel the bitch's cunt."
Like I'm about to object. Despite where we were I leaned over the arm of the chair, stretched out my right hand and felt his pussy. Hot, open, wet. I couldn't resist. I slid two fingers up inside him, gliding in on the old man's jizz. Fuck. Pulled them out, fucked them in and out a couple of times, and then pulled out, and slurped off ass juices and great-grandfather cum.
Jeremiah winked at me, lifted the boy's mouth from his...damn!...still hard cock. "You want Alex's cock in your pussy, boy?"
"He's just the first, you know."
First? I'm the first...oh...first stranger, the man off the street who picks up a lost Pedoball card and wins the kid cunt lottery.
"Your grampa Ben, and your daddy and I are going to share your holes with lots and lots of men, boy. You're going to drink their daddy milk and swallow their piss, and we're going to let them fill your boy pussy with cum and piss and dildos and whatever else we want or they want. Just like you do for us."
The boy's smile was brilliant and from the hardness of his cock, the idea was something he really liked. "Oh, yes, grampa."
"Then ask Alex, and ask him right."
"Yes, Grampa." The boy turned to look up at me, and said in a gentle voice, "Will you fuck my cum slut whore boy cunt, sir? Please?"
The filth from those gorgeous lips turned me on almost as much as what had already happened. I could barely nod, definitely couldn't speak.
The old man gathered the kid in his arms, twisted and turned to get his knees under him, and then stood up. With the damned beach blanket still draped around his shoulders. He only had to move a little to be just behind my left shoulder.
"You want him facing you or the ocean?"
The old man juggled the boy into position and then as I leaned a little to my right, Jeremiah leaned forward and gently put the kid in my lap, my cock jutting up between the boy's spread legs. His baby hands played over my cock, smearing the precum all over, making it more slick, baby hands on my balls, and then I was lifting him up, making him straddle me. Jeremiah leaned forward to help with the boy's balance, while I steadied the kid with one hand and used my right to guide my dick to the boy cunt I was about to use, courteous of an astute pedo fucking elder pedo. And the old man's hard meat was searing my flesh as it jutted over my shoulder.
Hot as fire. Hot as a furnace. Hot as a fucking whatever. I'd never had my cock inside anything so hot, so tight, so young. And that was just the knob end of my dick. I wasn't built like his great-grandpa so he had no trouble sliding down to my pubes. Christ. All those years of jacking to pedo porn without ever being able to use the word to myself, all those fucking mind images from all those fucking stories, and now they were all real. I'd say I'd died and gone to heaven but the thought police would probably arrest me for blasphemy.
I scooted my butt forward so that it was right at the edge of the chair. Started to ask Jeremiah to help, but he picked up on it and put his weight on the back of the chair. It was a strain on everything to have my legs stretched out and hold the kid's waist almost at the end of my reach, but this way I had some leverage to move my hips. I leaned back, pulled the boy's body forward just a little, rested my head against the old man's belly. We both had an unobstructed view of an ecstatic five year old jerking his tiny hard dick and squeezing my cock with his ass muscles and begging me to fuck him.
I wanted to wait awhile before actually starting the fuck. Not long. A week. Six months. A year couldn't hurt. Just long enough for my cock to back away from the edge of the cum precipice, and then back way off so there were lots of baby steps for the boy fucking before the boy and I fell off the cliff. No such fucking luck. One stroke out, so the end was just barely inside his cunt, a fucking hard shove in, out again, another hard ram inside my first, probably my only young boy cunt, and then on the third one...well, it wasn't one small step, it was one giant fucking leap for pedokind as I filled his asshole with more cum than I'd ever let loose at one time in my goddamned life.
And when I was through quivering and shaking, some of the body flush embarrassment for being so quick, I managed to get my ass back where it belonged in the chair, still with my cock inside the kid. I pulled the kid up and off and then helped him to stand on the ground between my legs. As he bent over like a dutiful boy slut to clean his fucker's meat, I could feel the heat of the old man's cock still over my shoulder. I did my fortieth, fiftieth, whatever "what the fuck" of the afternoon and twisted around into a very awkward position, but at least one which allowed me to get part of his cock into my mouth. One good pedo boy fuck deserves at least a good blowjob, or part of one.
He let me lick and suck him a bit and then gently pulled back. "Would you like more?"
My stupidity was obvious from my expression, which clearly said, "More what?"
His gesture included the boy who was just finishing cleaning my cock, and the his own elder pedo dick. "I have a house we could go to. Surprisingly, it's rather close by."
He put his cock and balls back inside his trunks, tied them off and stepped in front of the chair. My own cock and balls were quickly hidden again. But I was still hesitating.
"Will your friends think you have come to harm if you are not in the house or not on the beach when they get back?"
"Uh, well, no." Jesus, a fucking fifty-two year old man who couldn't gather two thoughts to rub together and make mental fire, just because he'd fucked a little boy's cunt a few minutes earlier.
Okay, now logic said the kid's mom didn't know what was going on, and I felt really funny just coming right out and asking, "Won't Isaiah's mom object if we fuck him, in your house or not?"
"Well, uh, what if, uh, what about...."
He caught on, and gave me an even broader smile. "His mother will not object. She knew why she was being bred, and seeing the consequences from time to time hasn't been entirely unavoidable. But then, the money, the position, and the other perks, such as her daughters and the women in her life, are more than adequate compensation for birthing another delightful cum whore boy like her next to youngest son."
I gulped at that and my cock immediately went hard again. I ignored it by wrapping my towel around my waist. In short order one old man and one heading-rapidly-toward-old man were holding the hands of a naked, tiny boy with a tiny hardon as we walked off the beach, and up the steps and down the immaculate walkway that led to Jeremiah's house.
Luxurious, fuck yes. But I didn't have much time to look as we headed straight up the stairs, down a hall, and into a bedroom with three really fucking important things in it. The first was the king-size bed. The second was the man standing on the right side of the bed. The third was the man bent over the bed getting a royal fucking. Which didn't stop when two men and a naked boy walked in the room.
Isaiah squealed, "Oh, wow, grampa's fucking daddy!" Then he let go of our hands, raced over to the bed, jumped on it and within what, half a second?...was flat on his back underneath daddy and swallowing daddy's hard cock.
I looked over at the old man, who was shoving his trunks past his knees, onto the floor and stepping out of them. I dropped the towel and followed suit with the shorts and sandals. He stepped close and reached out to fondle my stiff meat. I returned the favor.
"The man fucking is my son, Benjamin. The one on the bottom is my grandson, Daniel. He's Isaiah's father." He pitched his voice to the fuck-suck trio on the bed. "I suspect Isaiah will be just like his father. A born, not made, bottom slut."
The man with the blissful look on his face from getting his cunt fucked by his daddy and his dick sucked by his very own little five year old slut boy, just said, "Fuckin' right, grampa `miah."
"Grampa `miah" just laughed. Still stroking my dick, he said, "When he was little he could never get my full name right, so that's what I became. In any event, the oldest man in the family gets to pluck the cherries, and while my father was still alive and got the honors with Ben, I got Daniel's. How old were you when I turned your shitting hole into a pussy?"
Daniel looked up at me. "He knows damned well I was three, and I'd been begging him for almost a year. Stubborn bastard, my grampa `miah. Hell, I knew what I was, though I didn't know the words for sure, the first time I sucked dick or had a finger fuck me. But he gave me the best fuck of my life, so I guess he's forgiven for making me wait so goddamned long."
The old man smiled at his well-fucked grandson. "I assume you've figured out who Alex is?"
Ben shoved his cock in Daniel's hole even harder and said, "Isaiah's first stranger." It was Ben's turn to talk to me, I guess, doing his share of family fucking and sharing the family fuck story as well. "Daddy is not only stubborn, he's selfish, too."
Whoa. Major back step. Grab the pants and run. No need to get in the middle of a family feud that was starting to sound more Hatfield-McCoy than Richard Dawson. The old man must've read the body language, because he gripped my cock harder, and then admitted, "Well, perhaps a little."
"Damn, daddy, a little? Daniel and I wanted to find the slut a stranger a year ago. He was more than ready, and told you so, too."
"All right, you've had your fun. I don't need to justify myself to you or anyone, including Alex, but...fuck, he's such a glorious fuck I wanted him just in the family for a while longer." Now it was the old man's turn to take up the narration. I would have been tempted to interrupt and ask when the sex started, at least with me involved, but the bits and pieces of the story were making me even harder.
The sex started right then. Well, my involvement. The old man went down on his knees and deep-throated me, his nose in my short `n curlies, breathing in my sweat and cum and the boy pussy juices. A few bobs up and down to keep me interested and then he sat back. "You have to understand, I hadn't had a tight little virgin bottom like that since the first time I fucked Daniel. Just like his daddy, no need for `the pain goes away and then it feels fine.' Just like his daddy, no need for anything but lube and sliding my dick into a hot wet new-born pussy that just opened up, let me in, and molded itself around me. Just like his daddy, Isaiah was a bottom cum slut whore from the moment he was hanging upside down and got his ass slapped."
Jeremiah stopped talking and resumed sucking. Fuck. There is nothing like a blowjob from an old man. All those fucking decades of experience swallowing dick. Then he stopped, but that was okay. I wanted to hear the rest.
"It's tradition again. Fairly soon after his fourth birthday, a boy gets his first stranger. And depending on how things go we decide when it happens again. I managed to stall Ben about Daniel for what, four whole months? And with Daniel, the `happen again' was the same day. I took him to the mall. Yes, I know the city has hundreds of malls, but La Galeria was the best for what I wanted. And I wanted a place where I could find a pedo. Nothing damned easier, there. Boy fucking heaven, that place. I don't know how many times I've stopped off there and found a young boy whose mommy thought shopping was more important than paying attention to her son. The little boys who hang around near the entrance to the right men's room, waiting for a pedo to notice and want them.
"I prefer the boys who are already broken in, who know what they are and what they want. The nine-year-old black twins who barely nod when I stare at them and barely tilt my head towards the entrance to the john. Who follow me in and after checking the place out, follow me into a stall, strip their skinny bodies naked in a flash, their fat long boy dicks already hard. Who take turns standing on the toilet seat, half squatting to get to the right height for me to fuck their already lubed pussies, while the other one eats out my raunchy ass. Who are so very grateful for the hard fuck that gives them each a cum or two, so grateful that one swallows my cum and the other swallows my piss. The plump ten year old who likes to be spanked out by the urinals, while one of his friends acts as a lookout, spanked until his butt is bright red and hot, and then gets on all fours in the handicapped stall for a doggy fuck."
That's when I groaned. Not just because of the story. But because he'd worked two fingers into my hole and was working my prostate.
"The occasional virgin who actually wants to sex a man, but is so scared he has to be gently persuaded. Like that thirteen year old. What was his name? Harold? Harry?"
Ben laughed. "Yeah, that was him. Harold who turned Harry after he lost his cherry. What a slut when he was on his back with his legs in the air and the men were lined up to use his cunt."
"But that was later on. For a while he was still a virgin. A teen boy who was obviously hanging out at the mall with much younger boys. Friendly enough while he was outside watching men and boys go in and out of the john with fairly long lapses of time between the in and the out. Friendly enough when he was in the john, watching, that some of the other pedos figured he was just a watcher who would go home later to jack off, so after a while they let him peek into a stall through a glory hole to get a view of the younger boys getting fucked or sucking man cock. Friendly enough that I decided I wanted his cherry.
"So one afternoon I watched him follow two pedos with boys in tow into the john, at separate times, and stay there until they came out. The second time I could see he was hard, and getting that frustrated look that said he'd leave pretty soon. Yes, yes, I watched the kid for a while to be certain. I am not a fucking stalker. Okay?"
"No, just an astute elder pedo," I said, and was surprised when Daniel and Ben cracked up.
"Damn. If I believed in your Christ I'd swear by him right now. You know they're never going to let me live this down, don't you?"
I was too busy laughing and trying not to groan too much since he was still finger fucking my ass, to get any verbal response out, but the "we sure won't, daddy," and the "definitely not, grampa `miah," overlapped.
"Shit. Anyway, I'd already picked out the boy I was going to use. Andrew. A very thin, white nine-year-old, always dressed in a tee shirt, trainers with no socks, tight shorts or tight jeans with no underwear. A boy whose well-used cunt enjoyed a rough fuck and whose tits were eager to be worked on. I signaled him and he came over to me as if he'd just noticed I was there. I stood up, took his hand. Just an ordinary grandfather and grandson out shopping and the boy clearly has to piss or shit so his grandfather is taking him into the toilet to protect his virtue. But we didn't go the direct route. Instead, we walked over to the teen and arrived a few seconds before his body language said he'd be walking away.
"We stopped in front of him and I said quietly, so no one but the three of us could hear, using my least frightening, most pedo persuasion voice, `Would you like to come in the john and watch me fuck Andrew?'
"He gasped and might have bolted but we were blocking the way. And before he could come up with a denial, I went on, my tone still gentle and pedo-kindly. `Now don't lie, young man. Andrew has already told me how you watched through the crack between the stall doors when he was sucking that fat man's cock last week. And you watched through the gloryhole when the old man with the funny hats was getting a blowjob from that boy right over there, and then the old man sucked him off, too. And I definitely know you were watching me the last time the black twins were sucking my dick and eating my ass and letting me fuck them.'
"He looked like he was about to burst into tears, but managed not to. His voice was a little sullen though, when he said, `Okay, so I like to watch what you fags do, so fucking what?'
"`Well,' I said, "wouldn't it be more fun to come in the handicap stall with us? You could sit on the stool with your legs up so no one would know you were there, and then you could see up close just how much Andrew likes having his pussy fucked.'
"`Boys don't have pussies.'
"`That's right, you like to watch. So you just have an asshole that you use to shit with. Boys like Andrew and the twins and the others, have pussies now, that men like to put their dicks in so they can pleasure the boys. But you wouldn't know about that." Jeremiah chuckled a little, and told us how he'd made his voice a bit dismissive, a bit condescending, as if the younger boys like Andrew and the others, with their well-fucked mouth holes and well-fucked pussies were somehow better than a bigger, older, stronger teen. Which obviously didn't sit well with Harold-soon-to-be-Harry in a kind of Irving Berlin, "anything you can do, I can do better" sort of way. He then sealed the deal with just the right amount of taunting about the teen maybe being afraid of learning something from a younger boy, so maybe he'd just better hide and watch.
The teen went with them. Straight into the damned stall. Where he didn't hide by sitting on the stool, but instead propped himself against the wall while Andrew peeled to bare skin in Olympic gold time. Jeremiah settled for just pulling his cock and balls out through his flies. The teen gasped when he saw the old man's meat, but turned it into a brief cough. Andrew bent over the toilet and Jeremiah knelt down behind him, quietly inviting Harold over for a better look. The teen shook his head but then moved over when the old man started eating out the little boy's cunt. After a minute or so of lapping, Andrew moaned a soft "oh, fuck, yeah," and his hole relaxed so Jeremiah could actually tongue fuck him. When the boy began breathing heavily, the old man lifted his head to look at the teen and carefully explained that while Andrew was obviously enjoying getting licked and fucked with a tongue, obviously Harold wouldn't or couldn't since he just had an asshole. Which was a shame, because Harold was missing out on a lot of pleasure that all these younger boys were enjoying.
Which not surprisingly led to Harold asking what if, well, if someone ever did want to lick his butt and he enjoyed it, would that mean he had a pussy, too, because he definitely didn't want a fag pussy. Jeremiah reassured him that all it would mean was that he was one of those rare and special teenagers who could enjoy having his ass licked and tongue fucked without actually having a pussy. But it was too bad, because Harold would never know what he was missing since he clearly wasn't interested in having, oh, say, Andrew, or maybe even Thomas (the name Jeremiah was using at that mall), slurp on his butt.
But Harold was clearly interested in the ass play. So on being assured again that he couldn't develop a pussy if he happened to like getting licked down there, Harold turn his back on the pair, who grinned at each other, and then shoved his jeans and boxers down just under his slender ass cheeks. Like he was mooning someone. But Jeremiah carefully and regretfully explained that they couldn't try like that. He had to be naked from the waist down at least, so they could be sure if he got a hardon from having his asshole licked. Only the special teens would get a hardon, the others, well, nothing would happen and weren't they losers because of it? So he might as well just pull his jeans up, button up and forget it.
A second later the jeans were on the toilet floor. A second after that, without prompting, Harold was bent over, bracing himself against the wall, his ass thrust out. A second after that, and Andrew had his face buried between the teen's butt cheeks, giving him the four-star rim job that Jeremiah was very well acquainted with. The first lick on the asshole was probably when Harold got hard. The second and third licks started the moaning and the oh-god-oh-god-oh-god prayer. But it was the five-star rimming Jeremiah provided, combined with Andrew's small hand tentatively and then gently, but firmly, jacking the teen's dick that produced Harold's first-ever precum.
That's when the bastard duo stopped working the teen over, leaving him hard, leaking and breathing heavily. They gently explained that they were sorry, but all he said he wanted to do was to watch, and since Andrew and Jeremiah (Thomas) couldn't really stay much longer, they really had to get with the original program. Which was of course for Jeremiah to fuck Andrew and cum way up in his pussy. So maybe it would be best if Andrew just pulled his pants back up.
Harold promptly asked, without bending at all to pull up his clothes, if, well, maybe, possibly, there was something he could do. To just help. Not that he was queer, of course. Jeremiah understood and thought that perhaps he might help by letting Andrew suck his dick? Andrew liked to do that when he was getting his cunt licked or fucked. Did Harold think maybe he could do that?
Harold was on his knees in front of Andrew, his slender five inch teen cock pointing at the younger boy's mouth before the "s" sound in his "yes" was completed. Andrew, the eager educator, promptly swallowed the offered meat and groaned in tandem with Harold when Jeremiah started applying his five-star tongue to the young boy's hole. For a minute or two the john was pretty quiet. Well, except for the sounds associated with a fantastic rim job. And the sounds associated with a fantastic blowjob. And the "oh-gods" that were getting more fervent all the time. All of which came to a screeching but naturally silently screeching halt when Harold was close to cumming and Andrew stopped sucking. And Jeremiah stopped licking. And Harold came out of his stupor enough to say "Wh...what?"
Andrew looked at his watch and announced he had to leave in ten minutes and sucking dick and getting rimmed was all fucking well and good but he wanted dick in his pussy and this time it was going to be about him so no more sucking while he was getting fucked. Jeremiah sighed, but said of course he understood. So Harold would just have to pull his pants up and start watching again, as Jeremiah was going to be occupied with fucking Andrew's pussy. Well, there was an alternative. Harold could jack off while he watched.
Harold's "no!" was kind of sharp. And then he backed down and got a little groveling whine in his voice when he asked if there was something he could do. The "not that I'm a fag or anything" was silent and understood. Jeremiah and Andrew puzzled over it for about half of one of those last ten minutes, and then Jeremiah suggested, well, no, he probably shouldn't say that.... But Harold insisted he just say it, so Jeremiah suggested he might fuck Andrew, if it wasn't too faggy to put his dick in a nine-year-old's boy pussy. Although that couldn't make him a fag considering all the straight men and straight teens from high school and middle school who stopped by this john and had sex the queers waiting to suck them off or offer up their asses. But no, Harold surely wasn't interested.
But he was, he was. A few moments of scrambling and ripping off shoes, jeans and boxers, leaving him naked from the waist down except for the short white socks, Harold was behind his first ever fuck. But Harold's cock looked a little dry and it might hurt him or Andrew to just put it in. Wet was better so was it alright if Jeremiah sucked on his dick? Just to get it wet.
It was, it was. Then more quiet. Except for the five-star talented sucking a teen dick sounds. Except for the moans that started when Jeremiah started playing with Harold's hole, rubbing around it, pressing against it. Harold thrust his ass out, a fingertip slid in, and was quickly out again as Harold moaned even louder. Jeremiah stopped sucking and moved Harold's hips into position. The head of the slender teen cock just kissed Andrew's pussy. Andrew decided the hell with the fucking kissing foreplay, let's get down to the fucking. He shoved his ass back. Hard. And Harold was buried to his just-starting-to-turn-hairy balls in his first, and from the sound of the reverent "oh god" just then, definitely not his last, boy pussy.
His fucking was a little tentative at first, like he didn't want to find out this was all a bad dream, bad because it hadn't happened and he was still a virgin. But tentative was fine with Jeremiah, who started playing with the two sets of balls with one hand, and using two fingers to play with the rubbery, begging to let something in lips of Harold's hole. Jeremiah leaned over, whispered in Harold's ear that there were an even rarer number of those special teens who enjoyed having their shit holes played with while they were fucking. Some licking, some stroking, sometimes even a really wet finger sliding up inside. Lots and lots of straight men liked their asses finger fucked while they were fucking a girl or woman, and that didn't make them queer. The pleading whine was back when Harold agreed with just a sighed "yeah" that that was a damned fine fucking idea and would you please get on with it old man.
Andrew was so well-fucked, so well-trained that he could get off on any cock up his hole, large or small, though admittedly he preferred large. But getting Harold's virgin cum was turning him on no end, not even considering all the sex play and other stuff leading up to it. Harold was equally in the fuck zone, mindlessly enjoying his first fuck, not really noticing when first one and then two fingers began fucking his own ass, and working his prostate, something he'd forgotten he had if he ever knew since he really didn't pay much attention in the boring sex ed class his mother had insisted he take so she, single parent that she was, wouldn't have to do the explaining.
There was another of those silent screeching halts, accompanied by a rather loud actual screech, when something larger and thicker than two fingers pushed into Harold's hole on one of his especially fast out-strokes. The actual screech was cut off mid-screech, though, when Jeremiah clamped his hand over the teen's mouth. And then everyone was very still.
"Do you know how a boy gets a pussy, Harold?" Jeremiah whispered.
Harold shook his head as the pain in his hole ebbed just a little.
"It happens with the first dick in his ass. Not just some kid cock or teen prick, a real man's dick. Like my dick. You've got a full-fledged pussy now, cunt boy, and you're going to hold very still while I work all of it inside, until you feel my pubes and balls up against your ass, just like you are with Andrew. And yeah, there's going to be more pain, but it'll go away once I start fucking your new pussy. But right now you need the pain, don't you, Harold, because this is what you've been fantasizing about with all the watching and then running home to jack off. Fantasizing about someone teaching you how to be the bottom slut boy you want to be. A couple of holes your school friends, your teacher, your coaches, hell, even your daddy if he wants, can use whenever they need a place to dump their cum. A place they don't have to worry about the time of month, or moods or having to be nice. Just an eager slut who does what he's told. Right, Harold?"
The boy was crying, silently, and nodding his head.
Jeremiah dropped more spit on his cock and then inch by inch worked his thick, veined meat into the newly made boy cunt. Not worrying about the pain, not worrying about the whimpers that leaked out of Harold's mouth despite his vows not to let that happen. And then he was all the way in. And promptly pulled out and slammed home in the new cunt. Harold cut the scream off himself, partially because of will power, partially because it felt right to be used, partially because the thrust rammed his own cock up into the little boy's pussy.
Harold cut off the next scream before it happened. Because it was so goddamned right. Being used like this. Used as a cum dump for a strong man. Something he wanted to do again and again. Only used even more. Learning to suck a man's cock while he was getting his pussy fucked. And if he was lucky, sometimes there'd be a mouth or pussy wrapped around his own cock while he was servicing the men who owned him, or owned him for the duration of the fuck.
Harold fogged out. He was pure sensation. Cock fucking his pussy, his own dick in a tiny boy's pussy. He never heard the click of the lock when Jeremiah reached back to unlock the door and let it swing open. He didn't notice the jacking men and boys who crowded in, filled the handicap stall. Didn't notice anything but his own fuck until a man straddled the little boy, grabbed Harold's hair to yank his head up and then shoved a long uncut cock into his mouth and into his throat. Harold accepted it, figured out how to suck and still breathe, began deep throating the man's meat. Another man was on the floor, fucking Andrew's young mouth.
Andrew was the first to cum, the first of many that he would gladly have shouted about except for the cock in his throat that was so much better than shouting about a dry cum. Jeremiah was next since he really had to get home. He had family who would be worried. Right. Worried about whether Jeremiah was going to get enough relief in some bookstore or toilet or alley from some man or teen or kid so that his family could have some relief when he got home.
Jeremiah got himself together, once again neatly dressed. He stood in the open door to admire his handiwork. Harold had just had his cock pulled out of little Andrew's pussy, spurting teen juices everywhere, as the man who had been fucking his face got Harold on all fours and rammed his cock into the teen cunt, Jeremiah's thick cum making the hole nice and slick. A third man was shoving his cock into Andrew's hot tight hole, and a high school senior who knew Harold's older brother and couldn't wait to tell him what had happened, well, he actually could wait, since he'd just shoved his slightly curved teen prick into Harold's mouth, so naturally getting to cum came before gossip. The others would just have to wait their turn. And Andrew would have to wait for the second hundred dollar bill Jeremiah had promised him. But at least they'd agreed to meet tomorrow, same time, new holes.
And that was the story of Harold's First Fuck.
We all burst out laughing. It was Daniel who expressed the majority view. "Damn, grampa `miah, you never told us that before. You're one manipulative, sick, slick elder pedo perv alright."
The old man bowed as well as a man could who was still on his knees, playing with his own hard cock. "Sorry for the digression. I was just planning on telling Alex about Daniel's first and other strangers. But you all seemed so interested."
"We were, we were," Daniel and Ed said simultaneously, and then snickered.
Jeremiah looked at me. "Are you still interested in hearing what happened?"
"Well, fuck, yeah, but first, could I please get my dick inside someone. Before I fucking die?"
Another round of laughter followed by Daniel's offer of some more five year old cunt. An offer I couldn't, wouldn't ever refuse.
"Belly or back?" asked Daniel.
"Edge or on."
"On." On what? Oh. Fuck. On the bed. And there he was, the gorgeous little five year old on his back with his legs in the air, a pillow under his hips so I could see his fucked little hole. And there I was, miraculously on the bed with my dick all the way inside young, young boy pussy.
"Can you listen while you fuck?" Jeremiah asked.
"Damned right," I answered.
So while I fucked little Isaiah's ass, Daniel and Ben and Jeremiah did a round robin routine on my holes, all the while taking turns telling me, in glorious fucking Technicolor and stroke by cum detail about the stranger they found for Daniel, all four years and four months of him: a previously queer-for-adults-only clerk in a music store who found himself in an employees-only toilet with that little boy, and the little boy's father and grandfather, while the boy sucked the clerk and then gave the man the fuck of his life with his tight, tight, little boy hole. But it seemed Daniel was still horny, still eager, and they really couldn't find enough strangers in the mall when it was getting close to nine anyway and they were closing. So the tried the rest stop out on the interstate and struck the mother lode. Five bikers, leather, denim, chains, spiked this and that and all, who were most appreciative of the opportunity to gang bang a tiny boy with the approval of his father and grandfather. By the time of the last cum in that story I had three loads of cum up my ass, excuse me, my pussy, and another load down my throat (Jeremiah, don't act so surprised), and I'd managed two damned good cums inside of Isaiah, who'd gone through so many dry cums we lost count.
And when we were all separated and sprawled on the bed, but still close so we could touch and fondle if we wanted to (we did, we did), it was Isaiah who piped up with the demand for another stranger like he was supposed to have. His family tried to soothe him by explaining it was the off-season, they hadn't planned for meeting me, the houses were closed, no one was around.
"Except," said Jeremiah, "there are three more strangers where Alex is staying."
"No," I said. Very firmly, taking a silent vow that I would not be manipulated. "No fucking way. One is straight, and one is a close friend who doesn't know anything about these fantasies, uh, former fantasies, current reality, of mine. No. Fucking. Way. Get it?"
"Good." Jeremiah grinned at that and I hoped it was merely because he was a Danny Kaye/Court Jester fan, too.
Way. Of course.
By noon, the women were gone for an overnight stay at a local, very expensive, very exclusive spa, at Jeremiah's expense. The men were going to enjoy a men's afternoon/men's night out, a bonding ritual thing. Diane just sneered at us before they left, "Which means you're going to get disgustingly drunk, get laid and won't remember who did what to whom or why tomorrow morning."
She wasn't completely wrong.
By four, Charlie had fucked Daniel, and Ted had gotten a blowjob from Ben. By seven, the restroom at the pissy restaurant where we all ate, oh please excuse fucking me, where we all dined, had been christened by Charlie and Isaiah (blowjob), with Charlie coming back to the table looking very nervous every time he came close to looking at the kid's father. Or grandfather. Or great-grandfather. Which basically left him talking to Ted, John or me and pretty much ignoring the three men paying for all this. By eight thirty, the restroom had been re-christened by Isaiah and Ted (fuck), with Ted coming back to the table looking like a weird-ass combination of smug, scared shitless, confused, and more smug. By midnight, John was drunk enough, although I personally think there might have been a little cheating with some pharmaceutical help, that he'd fucked Daniel, done a hot 69 with Ben, gotten his ass fucked by Jeremiah, sucked my dick and fucked little Isaiah twice before passing out. Charlie got to fuck the kid before he passed out. Ted got an Isaiah suck just before it was his turn to pass out. I stayed awake long enough to fuck Daniel...nearly as hot a fuck as his little boy...fuck Ben, and finally, finally, finally, fuck Jeremiah. Which was only partial payback for the three times he'd fucked me since we first met.
So yes, Diane was partially right. We all got disgustingly drunk. We all got laid with a variety of adult and little boy mouths and assholes. We all pretty much passed out. And only John claimed to have been so drunk that he had no recollection what had happened after we got to the restaurant. Although he did walk kind of funny that day. The rest of us just kept our goddamned mouths shut and pretended the same thing, though we were close enough to know that each of the others was lying and knew exactly what the fuck had gone on. Surprisingly, there was no strain in the house as we finished the last two days of our vacation. Jeremiah and his family left before we did.
And each year since then, on "our anniversary" (Isaiah's and mine since I was his first stranger), I've received a small package delivered by a private messenger service owned lock, stock, barrel and blowjob by Jeremiah. The package contains two things. A bottle of Man Scent filled with the real stuff, which I keep in the freezer for very special occasions. And an envelope with recent photos of Isaiah, and then his little brother, being fucked or sucked or sucking on, a wide variety of men, none of whose faces are of course visible.
Okay, so I said I didn't do the kiddy pic thing. I don't. Not really. I keep them only twenty-four hours. Okay, okay, once it was seventy-two but they were so damned hot that time. And I use the real amyl and the pics to jack off with, and then burn the pics.
I went back to being a right hand pedo. No kids before, no kids since. I'd reached my unreachable star once, and no way would I fuck up the memories of that by being stupid enough to try to relive it. But everyone should have one shining moment in his life when everything goes right, no matter what the "right" is for you. And I'd had mine. It was enough.
And now that I've finally written the story out, I can right hand pedo my way back to the memories even if the gifts and the pics stop coming. Although I truly think I'd be turned on and jack to any pics of Isaiah having sex, well, okay, fuck, Jeremiah, too, regardless of age.
If you're still out there, Jeremiah, thanks for that shining moment. Thank you, Daniel and Benjamin. And of course, most of all, little Isaiah, who's probably not so little since he'd be about fourteen now. And if any of you read this, do me a favor. Give Isaiah a special hug for me, and Jeremiah, too. And let them know, since I can't do it in person, oh hell, it's true for all of you, not just them: I love you all.
I do, I do.
Okay, Isaiah, stop snickering. It wasn't that bad a joke. The rest of you stop, too. As I will. Right here.