Date: Mon, 14 May 2007 01:15:49 -0700 (PDT)
From: sammy garvin <troublefunk101@yahoo.com>
Subject: Little Jakie Likes Butt - Part 4

Mitch D'Amico was charged with the chore of taking the 7 train into the
city to meet up with his little brother, Jakie, who was instructed to wait
for him in Central Park, where the kid will have spent the day playing his
first intramural t-ball game ever.  But Mitch was running late and he
couldn't reach anybody on his cell to explain his situation.  The truth was
that practice was hot and frustrating and he really needed some kind of
relief.  Having recently had his first-ever blowjob to completion courtesy
of Udo, the nasty toothless janitor, he had become preoccupied w/ having
somebody swallow his abundant spooge once again.  Word got out that the
seventy-year old drunk liked to coax loads out of young jocks by any means
necessary in the equipment room, that he was quick and efficient about it,
and best of all that the gross bastard was, by necessity, discrete about
his little hobby.  But Mitch was conflicted.  He was Catholic and he had a
girlfriend (who usually finished him off with a hectic, amateurish
handjob).  He found his squat, hairy legs walking him over to the equipment
room between classes, his heart slamming away in his throat, but then
Catholic Guilt would kick in, he'd pronounce himself "A Good Boy", and he'd
turn right around and get himself to class.

All during practice his mind kept drifting to what was going down deep in
the bowels of that rank, musty room.  Was Udo's big lotioned hand thrust
down the bursting, sweaty pouch of a reeking jockstrap?  Was he chuckling,
and whispering nasty Russian into some kid's ear as he milked the shaft and
teased the swollen head of a straining teenage dick?  Or was he on his
knees drooling all over some poor boned-up, testosterone crazed, helplessly
sex-obsessed slob's knob?  He'd allow himself a little look-see after
practice and then go to confessional either that very night or the next to
wipe his conscience clean.

So round about the time his little brother was slapping the hands of his
victorious opponents in Central Park, Mitch lingered around the equipment
room, still in his snug, dirty practice pants and his filthy tube socks,
looking guilty. Finally, when he thought no one was paying any attention to
him, he opened the door and slipped inside.  The familiar raunchy smell hit
him first, and then, faintly, from somewhere deep in the rows of supplies
there came the succulent noises of wet sucking, labored nasal breathing and
desperate staccato whimpering.  From the sounds of it, Udo was working his
magic on a newbie.  Mitch flushed from head to toe as his cock thickened in
his nutcup.  His brain shrieked "NO!" but his feet led him down the central
aisle, directly to the source.  He grinned to himself as he spied Udo's
workboots planted on either leg of a standard issue office chair, his
coveralled torso leaning forward as he bobbed away on some unseen task that
somehow involved his head.  "Boo-Ya!", Mitch congratulated himself as he
hotfooted off to his right and squinted with great intent through a bank of
haphazardly stacked shoulder pads.  What he saw made his eyes pop , his
stomach drop and his cock pulse.  There, seated on the checkout desk,
totally bare-assed with his long, muscular legs raised and spread-eagled in
v-formation, heels nailed to the edge of the table with toes curled, was
Ben Solomon: Huge, hulking, no-sense-of -humor Ben Solomon: Center for the
Warwick Panther Football Team.  He was the team's straightest arrow and he
took sports very seriously.  He hit the free weights long and hard as if he
was working out knots of deeply repressed aggression.  Rumor had it that
his homelife was a drag, and that high school sports was his only reprieve
from the hellmouth that (word on the street had it) was The Solomon
Home. One thing was certain, the kid was single-minded in his pursuit of a
free-ride, courtesy of his prowess on the football field, and Notre Dame
was his El Dorado.  And now, here he was, spread out like a porn star, his
lips skinned against his teeth as if he were leg pressing a new goal
weight.  His veins pulsed in stark relief to his bulked-up, milkfed
musculature.  He was practically sitting on his own massive hands as his
splayed fingers spread his ample ruddy buttcheeks wide so Udo could take
the occasional break from abusing his own gullet to dip down under the
young buck's expectant, writhing scrotum and fill that tiny, clenched
analcleft with moist geriatric tonguemeat.  Mitch gaped as Udo gorged
himself on virgin teen-aged dick.  Solomon's green eyes were flinty,
searching slits as he studied the freakshow that was the spectacle of his
own overexcited fuckstick disappearing completely into the old man's
suckling maw.  The feel of constricting throatmuscle massaging his throbber
as it eased past the Russkie Drunk's bobbing adam's apple was
absofuckinglutely mindblowing.  He was a mere hare's breath away from
sweet, sweet release as he slumped and surrendered to the onslaught of wet
sex.  He sighed, closed his eyes and bucked his hips belligerently when the
old man lingered too long at his cockbase.  Udo got the message and
released the troubled dick from his throaty chokehold, coughing ,
slobbering and humming as he traced his tongue along the shaft. Ben's chest
expanded and relaxed his thickly veined neck muscles completely, allowing
his square head to fall back and loll, all slackjawed with a narcotic,
half-cocked smirk, against the poured cement wall.  The hunched and hulking
Russian, stinking of cheap domestic vodka, compensated for his momentary
lapse of concentration with a lazy tonguebath to the boy's highly
sensitized cockhead.  Shrewd move, because by now Ben's balls were tensed
to the point of cramping.  They needed to pitch their discharge pronto.
Meanwhile, Mitch's practice pants had somehow found their way down to his
knees where they cradled a useless, beslimed nutcup.  The thickly muscled,
sleepy-eyed Italian studfucker could stand the tension no more and was
fisting his drooling prick with semi-conscious precision.  His sturdy,
quivering thightrunks bowed perfectly to an apex where his hefty
bellclappers slapped against his own fur-lined asshams.  Udo, the stinking
old retch, engulfed Ben Solomon's shaft fully once more and for all time,
loudly savoring what was certain to be his final pass on the distressed
erection, when he was unpleasantly surprised by two huge mits angrily
yanking his face from the boy's full, damp bush and sharply humping hips.

All three were all at once, busted.


Little Jakie stood, fidgeting restlessly at Bethesda Terrace in The Park,
where his big brother was supposed to meet him at five o' clock sharp. The
game was fun but he wanted to get home to eat supper and watch cartoons.
It was a glorious Spring day, cloudless sky, a light breeze and lots of
people were out, enjoying the weather.  Jakie was entertaining himself by
making clucking noises with his tongue snapping the roof of his mouth, but
his eyeballs kept drifting over to a couple of NYPD officers as they
surveyed the scene with their arms folded.  One of the officers was short,
goofy-looking and seemed to talk a lot while the other said nothing much of
anything as his heavily shadowed jaws worked over a wad of gum which he
sometimes shifted to his front teeth for the purpose of assiduous,
impassive gnawing.  He looked sorta like his Uncle Danny, from the Italian
side of his family: Movie-star handsome, mean, thin lips which frequently
curled to squinch up his thick, doughy nose, hooded, bushy eyebrows
constantly knit and menacing.  But unlike Uncle Danny, Officer Trident was
built like a heavyweight boxer.  A retired heavyweight boxer, because his
gut pooched out just the tiniest little bit.  He looked like he might put
away a few cans of beer every night, like Pops did.  But what really caught
Jake's eye was the policeman's big, meaty thighs and calves which bulged
whenever he copped a light, fleeting squat to keep the circulation in his
legs going.  His pants were really really tight...maybe he had been
drinking a few two many beers lately and needed to go up a waist size or
two?  Jakie bet that the man's butt was big and muscley, just like his
Pop's which by now he had memorized for alltime for the purpose of
late-night pillow-humping.  He wondered if this stranger's butt was really
round and white and hairy like his dad's and if had those fist-sized
dimples in his buttcheeks like his dad had...he wondered if the policeman
wiped real good or if he sometimes skidded in his unders like six-year old
boys sometimes did.  He walked around, real casual like (because looking at
butts is bad) to get a closer look at what Officer Trident had in the seat
in of his pants.  Officer Trident eyeballed the kid suspiciously as he
walked toward him then abruptly shifted direction and veered off behind
him.  "What the fuck was that?" Officer Trident scowled and then remembered
that all little kids were retarded, much like his own crew of stupids back
home in Canarsie.

Jakie's heart caught in his throat when Officer Trident practically spanked
him with his Dadlike sidelong glance and frown.  "He must know that I'm
gonna stare at his great big butt!"  Jakie thought to himself, but
ultimately he didn't care very much because he just had to see for himself.
When he got behind the thick-necked man in blue, he saw for himself that
sure enough, that was one really big and round hind-end.  He couldn't tear
his eyes away as the cop's butt seemed to involuntarily flex and shudder,
just like a horse butt that he saw in some kind of zoo somewhere.
Suddenly, he was glad that his big brother wasn't showing up because now
that he knew that grown-ups liked being tickled down there, he was going to
make this cop happy and do the same for him.

Jakie walked right up to Officer Trident and pulled on his still folded
left arm.

"Mister police, can you give me a ride home?  I'm lost."  Jakie scrunched
his little monkey face into a squinty mask of fake despair.

"Oh. Welluh...where's yer folks?"  Officer Trident clearly wasn't
comfortable interacting with little kids.

"I dunno.  I been waiting here since forever and they're not coming and I
want to go home cuz' it's my birthday and I'm bored."

Officer Trident thought that was cute so he cocked a jaunty little grin and
deferred to his partner Officer Goofy.

"Well, shoot.  Now that I'm a taxicab, do I get a tip little mister
moneybags?"  Officer Trident pitched this last charming knee-slapper to the
hot young thing sunbathing to his left.

The hot young thing sunbathing to his left smiled warmly at the exchange
behind expensive sunglasses.

"Um...yeah." Jakie replied, earnestly.

"Alright, well...happy trails Dudley Dooright!" Officer Goofy was getting a
kick out of this.

Officer Trident, realizing now that he was trapped, nodded graciously at
the hot young thing behind expensive sunglasses as he herded the kid off to
the squad car.

"Yeahyeah.  I do this kind of thing all the time.  We don't want kids
gettin' snatched so...you know...we take them home if we have to!"  Officer
Trident explained to the hot young thing behind expensive sunglasses.

"Yep, that's exactly what we always do," added Officer Goofy.

Officer Trident, now put out by the task before him, walked off with Little
Jakie but not without turning back, throwing a wink at the hot young thing
and swallowing his gum.

" `kay kid...where'dya live?" Trident said, all businesslike now.

"Uh...I live pretty far away, but if you take your pants down and bend
over, I'll lick your butt."

The thirty-eight year old father of four choked on his wad of gum and
coughed good and hard.

"Okay kid, that's not anything you say to strangers.  Don't ever say that
to anybody.  Jesus."

"Sorry."  Jakie blinked back tears as he realized he had said a Bad Thing.

"Don't cry, kid. Just...let's not say stuff to each other.  Where do you
live?"

They drove across the 59th Street Bridge in complete awkward silence.
Jakie stared out the window, sorry he had said anything at all and thinking
he was in trouble. Officer Trident had popped in a new stick of sugarless
gum and mulled over what the kid had said to him.

"Whaddya sad or something?"  Trident asked, staring straight ahead.

"No."  Jakie sulked.

"Well, what.  You like ass or something?"  Trident fiddled with the radio
so as to appear nonchalant.

"Ass?" Jakie asked.  Trident remembered kid-talk and rephrased the
question.

"You like butt or something?"

"Eww.  No."  Jakie sulked some more.

"Whaddya wanna see my butt for?  It poops an' it's dirty."  Officer Trident
tried to reason with the kid.

"I know."

Officer Trident thought about what he had just said and then backtracked.

"It's not...y'know...dirty right now..."

"So?" Jakie pouted.

"Alright, kid.  I'm gonna pull over up ahead in this trainyard here...not
gonna hurt ya...just gonna let you see stuff like you asked..."

Jakie's mood brightened instantly and he whipped his head around to the
Officer on the driver's side and he flashed his best monkey grin.

"Really?"

"Uh...yeah, sure, kid."

Officer Trident said what he said without the foresight of consequence, but
what the hell, he was caught off-guard here.  As he pulled into the ghostly
abandoned trainyard, his heart palpitated wildly.  What the fuck was he up
to here?  He idled the engine as he called in a totally manufactured
situation to the dispatcher on duty.  He shut the engine off and clambored
out of the squad car.  Jakie's eyes were trained on the massiveness of the
grown-up's butt encased in state-issue polyblend and was nearly breathless
with anticipation.  Officer Trident indicated a destination with a curt nod
of his head and the two rounded a corner to a long-neglected cranny of the
trainyard, wedged between two non-descript buildings.  Officer Trident
relieved himself of his gunbelt and set it just outside of reach of the
little pervert he was about to oblige. "You can't be too careful these
days" he thought to himself as he instructed the kindergartner to not touch
that.  Trident unbuttoned his trousers for easy access, turned his back to
the boy and reached high and wide, hands flat against the wall, just like a
perp.

"Awright, knock yourself out kid."

Jakie stepped forward, all dizzy and rock-hard with a kidsize boner, and
scanned the older man's vast expanse of butt as it jutted out back at him.
Little Jakie leaned in and sniffed at the seat of the cop's pants but smelt
no discernable taint of buttmusk...just heat emanating from a body sitting
too long in a sunbaked squad car. The little boy tentatively clutched at
the waistline of Trident's trousers with his trembling fingers and then
cautiously tugged them down over the twin mounds of cotton-swaddled
man-butt.  A tuft of black hair sprouted at the undulating small of
Trident's heavily muscled back, contrasting starkly with the bleached
whiteness of his cheap Towncraft briefs.  Trident suddenly found himself
regretting this, certain as we was of discovery, but he had to see exactly
what this little shit was capable of.

This little shit was capable of quite a lot and without a lot of warning.

In the blink of an eye, his trousers were pushed down to his patent leather
shoes by pudgy six-year-old mits and the musky, sweat-soaked briefs riding
up his swarthy asscrack were bared for all to see, "all" being a horny
six-year-old.  Officer Trident, anxiously gnawing on the flavorless wad of
gum, was growing a fat erection in the pouch of his briefs as the breeze
cooled off his hot, itchy ass.  Figuring this was the extent of all that
was destined to happen, he wiggled his fuzzy butt at the kid and said:

"Pretty cool, huh?  Awright, I'm gonna pull my pants up now an' off we go."

But no.  Jakie, bug-eyed and beside himself with juvenile lust, yanked down
those damp, clinging briefs, applied his best Spiderman grip to those
bubbley grown-up, gorilla buttcheeks and spread them wide open for a peak
at the hairy hole sure to be winking back at him from the secret garden of
grown-up Dad Butt.  Officer Trident's shit-slit was so tucked away in a
thicket of black, musky hairs that Jakie couldn't see it or really even
smell it at all, although he was sure Mister Police had to have a butthole.
Everybody had a butthole!  If he couldn't see it, he'd taste it so he used
all his strength to spread those clenching buttcheeks wide and he buried
his face in the tangled, soaked jungle that was Officer Trident's asscrack.

Trident had reluctantly allowed the trespass of debriefing, but his squinty
Italian eyes bugged wide at the sensation of the little snot's taster
invading his manhole.  This was not part of the bargain at all.  As the boy
tongued every last nook of his hair-choked cop-pucker, Trident's pecker
fattened at warp-speed and bounced in drooly gratitude as he involuntarily
arched his back and thrust his shitter back at the lick-happy little
munchkin.

"Ohnononothat'senoughgetthatouttathere."  The cop cooed helplessly as the
kid's tongue was replaced by a thick probing little digit.  Just as Jakie's
finger, after a bit of blind spelunking, discovered the older man's
prostate gland, his hyperactive little mouth simultaneously managed to
locate the hairy, dangling nutsac.  And while this kind of double-play
proved just a bit too much for the family man, he had presence of mind to
grip the boy's hand, remove it from his ass, spin around just in time to
shove his angry, flared cockhead two inches deep into the boy's mouth, hold
the little mouth steady right there at the pressure point, hump a little
bit and blow off rope after rope of thick, viscous cum.  Did the kid spit
or swallow?  Officer Trident hoped the kid spit in the interest of saving
his doomed Catholic soul but his jelly-legs were far too busy buckling to
give the matter further consideration and after his depleted and fatigued
wang slipped free from the sperm-slickened lips of the young boy, he
slumped, exhausted, against the bricks of the wall behind him.  Blades of
grass scratched and tickled his kit as well as his agitated asshole after
he'd finally collapsed into a squat upon the ground, pants and underwear
still gathered at his ankles.  He needed a cigarette, forgot himself, and
asked the kid if he had one.

"What?" Jake couldn't understand the question as he wiped his face on his
t-ball shirt.  The kid smelled strongly of assfunk and cum.  Officer
Trident laughed and waved it off, rose weakly to his feet, wiped his
shrinking dick dry with his shirt and pulled up his pants.  He dug in his
pocket for a handkerchief and Bianca breathspray.  He wiped Jakie's face
with the hankie and sprayed him off with the Bianca, hoping to waylay the
incriminating smell of ass and cum.  He bent and reached for his gunbelt
woozily.

"No worries, kid.  But don't you say a word about this to anyone, mkay?"
Trident tousled the boy's hair as he popped another fresh stick of
sugarless gum.

"Mkay."  Jake spit as the two made their way to the squad car.

"Promise?"  Trident fished out some Polaroid shades from his breast pocket
as they walked.

"Myeah!  Can I have some gum Mister Police?" Jakie squinted up at the big
man.

Officer Trident obliged and off they drove to the D'Amico house in the
heart of Queens.

***