Maxie 01

by DannyR

Copyright 2006-2007. All rights reserved

Story Codes: MM/t, MMM/b, oral, anal, incest, pedo, ws


This story series (slow in cumming though the parts may be) wouldn't exist without Damian Fitzroy, a Brit with a wicked sense of humor and an even more wicked mind. There are more details about his inspiration for these stories in the introduction (Max's Boys 00) and Max's Boys 01. So if you like what you read below, you really owe it to Damian. But even more important is the fact that this story is almost pure <ahem!> Damian...not just the ideas, but the writing. I tweaked it a bit and added a bit (mostly the Teamsters story that's told), but damn! Damian really does have a wicked mind. Wank away!

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 local cops for the harshest penalties the law allows. Now that we're clear on what's what, and what's not, read on.


The party had already got going by the time I got down to the pool. The concealed speakers were pumping out Guns N' Roses' "Sympathy for the Devil," which I thought was kinda cute considering what happens at my Dad's parties.

I was wearing a tux made of black silk. No underwear, and I could feel my hardon stroking the smooth material of the tight pants. I looked down, giving myself a quick check. Oh, yeah, that was a real nice tenting at my crotch. I ran a finger down the crease of my ass, making sure the silk was hugging me tightly. When I want things to go a bit slower, I'm more subtle, but tonight I didn't want slow. Tonight I wanted to be grabbed, mauled, used. I wanted to be fucking raped. I get that way sometimes, where I need it hard and rough and demanding. Ram it home, James, and don't spare the whore's ass.

The indoor pool area is huge. One entire wall is made of panoramic windows which look out onto the grounds of the estate, though they were covered with blood-red velvet drapes tonight. A lot of the guests were a bit paranoid about telephoto lenses, despite all our security precautions. I guess I don't blame them. If I were a member of Congress, or a judge, or a big fucking macho movie star, or hell, just one of the ordinary guys Dad invites, like Hank, the bartender at that sleazy bar in New York, I wouldn't want to be snapped snorting cocaine or fucking preteen ass either. Although I suspect it's the preteen fucking, especially the preteen boy fucking that really worries them. They'd survive the drug stuff.

I heard laughter and splashing as I walked in. The pool was full of naked boys, all laughing and splashing each other, having a good time. I kept getting tantalising glimpses of baby ass and cock as they swam around, and I wasn't the only one. Half the men there were watching the show, perving on that delicious kiddie flesh, imagining what they'd be doing with those children's bodies when the party really started to heat up. Not that a Max Harris private party wasn't hot from the moment you walked in and got your first view of naked little boys.

There was nobody my own age there. That's the one downside to these parties. I have more fuck-buddies than I can shake my dick at. I have an incestuous relationship with my father, grandfather, and little brothers. I have a whole staff of hot men to use me and be used by me on a regular basis. But I've never in my life had a boyfriend. I'd kinda like a chance to meet a boy my own age, for once. Well, I've met boys my own age. But no one I could....bring home to meet (and fuck) the family.

Oh, well. I mentally shrugged, looking around for someone I knew. A waiter saw me walk in and headed over, carrying a tray of champagne. He was a muscular honey blonde, great abs and huge pink nipples, dressed in nothing but a transparent G-string that left his big cock painfully constricted. A good eight inches, from the look of it, and thick too. The balls were hairy, and I could see he was a natural blonde.

"Champagne, sir?"

"Thanks." I took a glass, then on pure impulse poured the drink down the front of my pants. I smiled at him.

"Oh, how clumsy of me." I could feel the cool liquid flowing through the thin material and over my engorged cock, running down my legs.

He met my gaze. Beautiful eyes, sort of brown-flecked grey, and wide with lust. I could see his classic abs start to heave a little as his breathing speeded up, but his voice was perfectly composed and deferential.

"Don't worry, sir, I'll clean it up." He put his tray on the floor and dropped to his knees in front of me. His mouth pressed against the fabric of my pants, and his cheeks pulled in as he started to suck up the spilled champagne. I moaned loudly as his lips massaged my cockhead through the wet fabric. Throwing back my head, I rotated my hips, deliberately making a spectacle of myself, flaunting myself in front of everyone there. Around the room, conversations stilled as the guests watched the oldest son of the host behave like a nympho whore touting for business. The waiter was slobbering all over me, making the front of my pants even wetter with his spit, and caressing my ass with his large hands. I ran my fingers through his thick hair, pulling his face closer.

It would have been nice to go further, but the party was only just getting started. I was only just getting started. And waiter-stud here wasn't what I was looking for, what I needed. Reluctantly, I slid my hands under his furry armpits and hauled him to his feet.

"Your name."

"Paul, sir. Your father hired me just a few days ago, while you were away in California."

"Easy to see why." I pulled the G-string off. They're designed to tear if you put pressure on just the right spot, and the two pieces of fabric fluttered to the floor as his big cock sprang free. I ran my thumb over the head, picking up a patch of precum. I lifted the thumb to my mouth and lapped it up, staring into his eyes the whole time. "Show me your cunt, Paul."

He bent over immediately and pulled his cheeks apart, revealing an inviting pink hole surrounded by more blonde fur. I stroked my fingertips across it. Oh, yeah, I was definitely going to get some of this as soon as possible. "You experienced using this, Paul?"

"Very experienced, sir."

"That's good to know." I reached down, picked up the champagne bottle and pointed it at his ass. A geyser of champagne shot out when I popped the cork, covering his cheeks and soaking his exposed hole. I didn't wait for the bottle to stop foaming before I slid it inside him.

"Stand up."

He stood, the bottle jutting obscenely out of his ass. I grinned at his naked back, and then, because I couldn't resist, bent over to lick up some champagne off his butt cheeks.

"Turn around."

He turned. I could see he was breathing heavily and looking at me like he wanted to rape me there and then. Good. Maybe I'd use him later on tonight. Or he could use me, if he could be rough enough.

"Carry on."

A flicker of disappointment crossed his face but he suppressed it. "Yes, sir."

I turned away, conscious of the eyes on me as I made my way across the room. The wet fabric was clinging tightly to the outline of my now-painful erection, making my walk a little uneven. I saw Senator Graham across the room. He gave me his usual, subtle public smile that appeared from past experience to be mine alone. The slight wave he knew I'd see was a subtle request to have me join him. Dear Senator Graham. Always subtle. Until he wasn't. I headed in his direction.

I've always liked Senator Cameron Graham. He reminds me a bit of George Clooney, with his close-cropped iron-gray hair, lean muscularity, cleft chin and deep, commanding voice. Plus, he has a thick, nine-inch dick and a classic butt, both of which he uses expertly. He first fucked me when I was seven; these days we often do a three way with my Dad, with Dad's cock ramming the senator's ass as he reams my boy cunt. Like the rest of Dad's really close friends, the Senator is a first-class pedo, with about fifty years' worth of admiration for and use of a boy's holes. And of course, the younger the better. But unlike so many of the pedos I know, so many of the ones who have used me over the years, he has retained an actual fondness for me, even after I developed a damned nice cock, if I say so myself, with a well-trimmed bush and very hairy balls. A fondness that from time to time translated into some very good sex.

"Maxie." He pulled me into a deep French kiss as soon as I got close enough, rubbing his hands over my wet crotch. His own bulge bumped against my thigh, hard and demanding. "Nice entrance, you little pervert."

So. The Senator was inclined to be unsubtle this evening. And in public. Well, as public as you could consider a private gathering of pedos and friends-of-pedos. I hoped our audience, and I was sure in that instant that there would be an audience, appreciated the honor they were being shown. He was rarely unsubtle in such an open setting, with so very many men around to watch the most powerful man in the Senate get his rocks off.

"I need it rough tonight," I told him, grinning. "I wanted people worked up. At least a little." A movement of my head, ah, subtlety, thy name is also Maxie, indicated the numerous naked little boys with their hard pricklets, some wandering about, some being used. "Especially in light of the competition."

He laughed. "Come over here, I want you to meet my son and grandson."

As we walked over to a nearby buffet table, his hand firmly on my ass, I realized I didn't find it odd that after all these years of being sexed by him I'd never met his family. But then, the first time I had that massive meat in my tiny boy hole, I was, as the Senator is fond of saying, "kid pro quo." Not that I objected. Dad wanted something from the Senator, and Dad does whatever is necessary to get what he wants. Although Dad does have limits.

I think.

And it wasn't as if Dad was asking me to do anything, like being payment, that he hadn't done himself. I was six, I think, and Dad and Grandpa had just fucked both my holes full of cum, when Grandpa remarked that my cum drooling pussy, well, it should have drooled since Grandpa's was the third load that morning, made him think of that time with Dad and the Teamsters. Dad laughed, and got up close to my pussy, even swiping it with his tongue to lap up some of his and Grandpa's cum, and oh, I'd forgotten, there were four loads, because the butler's cum was up there as well. He chuckled after swallowing the cum and then he and Grandpa told me the story.

The union had been giving Grandpa a problem over their contract, and they were on strike. Strikes are never good for business, and my family is all about business, well, and man-sex, and boy-sex as well, but strikes back then they told me, were not the namby-pamby strikes that happen now. Back then, strikes were dangerous. To both sides. Up to that point, the usual methods--good faith negotiations, bribery, intimidation, a judicious use of violence here and there, though nothing permanent you understand--weren't working. At least not entirely. There were still five hold-outs who prevented a deal from being made. Two members of the union board, the president, the treasurer, and some guy who was the top rank-and-file guy. Although it wasn't as if the rank-and-file had any fucking idea what the leadership was really doing.

So Grandpa got them to come over to the original Harris House (Grandpa's home, not the first hotel) for a private meeting. To discuss their differences in a civilized fashion and try to resolve them for the good of the country, oh, and the company, too. The union's good was an afterthought for all of them. And once the door was locked behind them, a fact of which the union men were then unaware, Grandpa's vice president, and the union vice president (bought and paid for) announced to the reporters that labor and management had agreed to begin around the clock negotiations to end this damaging strike.

There were the five union men in the room. Grandpa. Grandpa's brother, my great-uncle Dan. I always thought it was too bad I never got to meet him. Dad always said he was an incredible fuck and knew just how to make a little boy squirm and squeal with the finest dry cums. Unfortunately he disappeared when Dad was around nine. Not long after Grandpa found out he'd embezzled from the company. And then there was five-year-old Dad.

The union president, the real source of the problem, just sneered when he saw Dad and asked Grandpa just what the fuck a kid was doing there. Then he laughed and told the union men that maybe Grandpa needed his baby boy to hold his hand and comfort him when things got rough. That's when Grandpa let them know they were locked in; what the two vice presidents said to the press, and that they were going to be living, and then Grandpa paused, and sleeping right there until there was a permanent solution.

The room was big, most of the third floor, and they'd been concentrating on what they were going to get out of Grandpa, since they already had the money he'd paid them, and why else would the management big boss ask for a meeting if he wasn't ready to shell out more cash. So they hadn't notice the large bed at one end, or the sleeping bags. Or the old-fashioned commodes with the buckets you had to dump. When they got done noticing, that was about when the words "permanent solution" hit them. Back then, a permanent solution usually meant a disappearance, with or without a good explanation, but mostly without.

When they looked back at Grandpa they could tell how pissed he was. I mean, my Dad is one guy you never want to meet when he's really pissed. With Grandpa, it's probably best if you just slash your wrists or shoot yourself since the end result would be the same. And what Grandpa was pissed about was that he was really a good employer. Hell, back then he was probably the world's leading employer. The union members got paid a better than average wage, they actually had health benefits, and even good working conditions. True, bribery was a way of life, and Grandpa handed out bribes, though usually not personally, with the best of them. But these men had gotten greedy. Now, Grandpa recognized that greed is an American right, a healthy principle on which to operate in business and in private life. But what Grandpa abhorred was unreasonable greed, excessive greed. These men were both unreasonable and excessive.

He told them it was up to the five of them to pick one of their group to be the permanent solution. When asked what he meant, he told them they'd find out when they made their choice.

They were outraged. Grandpa showed them the two refrigerators that had been moved in. One for beer, one for food.

They shouted. Grandpa showed them the shutters that were securely closed, the windows sealed, and reminded them they were on the third floor at the back of the house, with a huge walled garden below, and the reporters were all out front.

They pleaded. Grandpa had a beer. So did Uncle Dan. Dad asked for one but Grandpa said no.

They threatened. Grandpa took a piss. Just walked over to one of the commodes, hauled out his long, thick cock and pissed long and hard and loud while he finished his beer. They abruptly shut up.

They huddled near the door, muttering and whispering and gesturing frantically. Grandpa took off Dad's clothes, carried him over to the same commode and sat him down to piss.

When they all turned around, the president stepped forward like he was going to say something, only like the rest of them he gaped at the sight of Grandpa, fully clothed, holding the hand of a naked five-year-old boy. His own son. And the boy had a hardon.

"You the permanent solution?" Grandpa asked. The president just nodded, his face a little grey. "So's Max. Follow me."

They walked to the end of the room where the bed was. And the cameras they hadn't noticed Uncle Dan setting up.

"You like getting a blowjob, Ted?" Grandpa asked the union president.

The president had come up through the ranks. He was rough, tough and burly. He wasn't about to admit that he'd never had a blowjob, had always wanted one but couldn't ever find a woman willing to do it before he got married, and afterwards, well, she barely endured missionary position sex let alone anything as depraved as sucking him off. "Fuck, yeah!"

"Good. My son here is gonna suck you off and swallow your cum. And Dan here is gonna take a picture of the union president getting his dick worked over by a naked little boy whose face will never be recognizable, but his age will. And then this strike is going to be over, you all keep the money you've already been paid, and if you ever pull this kind of shit again in negotiations, I'll see this picture gets to all the right places and ruin you and everyone else in union management."

While the five men were too shocked to do more than just stare, eager, well-trained Dad was already hard (literally) at work, unbuttoning Ted's trousers, reaching inside the gap to haul out his already sweaty cock and balls, inhaling a man-scent that was already a Pavlovian turn-on, and swallowing the soft meat. And bobbing up and down on the dick, fondling those hairy balls.

Ted is big enough he could have done something. Like shoving Dad away and telling Grandpa to publish and be damned...although it more likely would have been a "fuck off you bastard" type approach if it had happened. Instead, that first picture Uncle Dan took (the version that shows Dad's face) shows a man lost in the wonder of a hot, wet, talented mouth on his hard dick. The kind of look that can easily change to "fuck off, you bastard" if sometime tries to stop the cocksucking.

"Can you cum twice in a row?"

"Huh?" Ted opened his eyes to look at Grandpa, completely unaware his hands were caressing the head of the very, very young boy giving him a blowjob.

"As good as Maxie's mouth is, his boy cunt is even better. So if you can only cum once you probably ought to save it for his asshole."

Manly union presidents don't admit they've never had an occasion to cum twice in a row. "Will...will he swallow?"

Grandpa laughed. "Hell, yes. The little slut loves the taste of cum."

And so it came to pass that within a minute or so, Ted was furiously face fucking a little boy and unloading a year's worth of cum into his eager mouth. And when he was finished, he discovered he had another year's worth of cum in reserve that he hadn't even known about.

Whatever reservations the other union men might have had were, pardon the expression, blown away by Ted's shout when he came like the newly-minted pedo he was into the baby boy mouth. A few minutes later he was naked on the bed with Dad, experiencing first times, and eager to experience more. The first time he saw a tiny little boy laying belly down on a bed with hips raised with a pillow, waiting to get man-fucked. By him. The first time he saw two fingers greasing up the boy's hole with lard. The first time he felt another man's hand on his dick, greasing it up. The feel of another man's hand, a father's fucking loving hand, guiding his leaking dick to his little boy's asshole. The feel of the helmet easing into the hole and the tight cunt muscles clamping down when it pops in. The feel of his dick sliding balls-deep into the hottest, tightest pussy it had ever been in.

The president's second cum took a lot longer. In part because he was determined to make it last, since he'd probably never get another chance to dip his dick into little boy cunt. In part because of the number of times he had to hold still for Uncle Dan to get the just right blackmailing photo. The best kind were the ones with Ted's face turned toward the camera, his eyes glazed with lust, and his cock visibly ready to slide deeper into the nameless boy he was fucking. But all good fucks cum to an end, and this was no different except in Ted's eyes. He pounded the boy's cunt harder and harder, urged on by the kid's own father, until at last he regretfully blew the entire reserve year of cum into the boy's hole.

While Ted was hunched over Dad's body, panting and not wanting his not-wanting-to-go-soft cock to pull out, Grandpa looked at the chairman of the board and said, "You're next, Tom."

The chairman must have taken the "no one can hear you" advice to heart since his "What!" was nearly a roar that shook the shutters.

Grandpa smiled. "Oh. I guess I forgot to mention that you're all a part of the permanent solution. The same permanent solution. I promised my little boy he'd be fucked today at least once each by five men he didn't know, and a good father always keeps his promises."

" can't...I won't....I...."

"Aw, shut the fuck up, you prick," the rank-and-file man snapped. "You were groping your dick just like the rest of us while Ted was getting his rocks off in a little boy's holes, and you're hard now, and fuck, man, you're leaking so much I can see it on your pants."

Rank-and-file started stripping off. "Shit. Let him wait his turn. I'm next."

Moments later the naked, muscular, grey-haired, grey-pubed rank-and-file representative was kneeling on the bed, his legs spread wide, the little boy's feet spread, too, so he could see the slime oozing from the boy's reddened hole. He looked down at Grandpa's hand applying grease to his short, immensely thick cock. "Can the cunt take this?"

Grandpa squeezed some clear precum out of the deep slit. "If he hasn't learned by now, it's time he did."

Dad raised up on his hands and looked over his shoulders at the next dick scheduled for his little pussy. Grandpa tousled his hair, getting it greasy, too. "You want this dick slow `n easy, son, or fast `n hard."

"Oh, daddy, fast and hard. Please."

"You heard him."

Dad's squeal was almost as loud as the chairman's "what!" It was followed by a long sigh of rapture.

Uncle Dan had rank-and-file guy pull his meat halfway out and hold it there so he could get some really good shots of dick that wide spreading his nephew's tiny hole. Rank-and-file guy got kind of a faraway look in his eyes. He looked at Grandpa. "You know, your kid's a whore now, just another cum dump pussy since you pimped him out for your business."

Grandpa laughed, and rubbed his greasy hand in the fucker's thick fur, and down to where that wide, wide cock was spreading his son's pussy. "He's been a whore since he was three. A city alderman if I remember. Something to do with zoning. This is just the most men he's ever had at one time."

"Jesus." The man looked down again and was unable to prevent himself from sliding in and out a couple of times before holding the pose again. "Three, huh? Y'know, my grandson is almost five...."

Grandpa stroked the hairy back with his left hand, down the clenched buttocks, into the deep hairy trench, his fingertips lightly brushing the sweat-damp hole. "Maybe I could be of help...."

Rank-and-file looked over at Grandpa, who was naked by this time, and at the thick, uncut, slightly more than nine-inch cock standing out from his body. "Christ, man, between the two of us we'd rip him apart. Maybe I ought to get a smaller-dicked guy to open him up. Know any small-dicked boy lovers?"

"I do." Grandpa pressed two fingertips against the man's hole, felt it give slightly. "But if a father isn't going to take a boy's cherry, it's his granddad's duty. My granddad did me just a little before my third birthday, since my dad hadn't bothered. You ever been fucked?"

"Huh? What?" The guy came back from that far away place, where'd probably been imagining his grandson's baby cherry being taken.

Grandpa rubbed the man's hole at little harder; the man didn't jerk away. "I could show you how a man takes virgin male pussy when he wants to be careful. I could ease my dick into your cunt and fuck you while you fuck my little boy. And some other time you could come back and have him all to yourself."

"You and me, and my little grandson and your son? A cherry to be taken, two hot tight little cunts to fuck? Hell, yeah, man, fuck my ass."

Of course it wasn't quite as easy or as painless as Grandpa had made it sound, getting a cock that size into any virgin hole, even a grandfather's. Eventually the very loud grunts and moans and occasional whimper changed from pain to lust. Grandpa said he always wished he'd thought to have a movie camera so there could have been action shots, especially of that double fuck. Grandpa said he kept up a good pace until the man finally spewed a load into Dad, and then Grandpa went on fucking the guy like a goddamned battering ram for another five minutes or so, until he unloaded his own load in formerly-virgin man pussy.

After that, the chairman was eager for his turn, though he didn't last long. The other board member and the treasurer almost came to blows over who was next, but Grandpa made them do rock-paper-scissors and the other board member went next.

The strike was actually settled the moment the treasurer shoved his cock into Dad's spooge-filled cunt and so embarrassed himself by cumming immediately that he didn't even realize the camera had flashed to record his own, highly visible (since it was only his face with its cumming-distorted expression in the picture) descent into depravity. Over the next forty-eight hours my dad was fucked every which way, including loose, including the memorable next morning when Dad, my five-year-old slut cum whore eventually father, got gang-fucked by all seven men. The five union men, Grandpa, and Uncle Dan. And then they immediately started over again. Dad had so many cums that half the time his pussy was getting fucked he was passed out and one man would finish and get off and the next would mount him, slide that man-cock deep in Dad's slimy, sloppy ass and pump away until another load of cum was added.

There's one really classic picture Uncle Dan took. Well, had somebody else take since Uncle Dan was kind of involved at the time. The picture shows Dad on his right side, his left leg held in the air a long wide cock is half-way into his little boy butt. And a long wide cock is half way into his little boy mouth. And his boy cock and balls are invisible since it's pretty obvious that the man whose head hides them is sucking Dad off. That's Uncle Dan's cock in Dad's ass, Grandpa's cock in his mouth, and the union president sucking him off.

At the end of the forty-eight hours (actually, forty-nine and change), the two vice presidents announced that the strike was over, and Grandpa and all the negotiators, well, not Dad, came out on the front porch to meet the press. Grandpa still has the picture from the front page of the New York Times, above the fold, no less, in his office, very carefully framed and lovingly preserved. In the center is Grandpa, standing next to the union president, with joined hands raised and their other arms raised with hands waving in victory. To their right are the union board members and the rank-and-file guy. To their left are Uncle Dan and the treasurer. Dan's arm is around the shoulders of the treasurer. More to hold him up than to demonstrate temporary labor-management unanimity. Although Uncle Dan had fucked the treasurer twice and said his cunt was nearly as tight as a little boy's, so maybe he was working on getting some man-pussy later.

Their clothes are all crumpled, as if they'd been slept in. I guess that's what clothes look like when they've been dropped on a floor and walked all over during a marathon pedo orgy. Their faces are haggard and unshaven and drawn. Every time I look at the picture I recognize the expression on every one of their faces. It's the expression a man has when he is really, truly all fucked out. But the best part of the picture is the headline, in very large, very bold, type: "STRIKE OVER. HARD NEGOTIATION WORKS!"

As we walked I was off in that memory, and the thoughts of that rough gang fuck of Dad's had my cock leaking, though you couldn't really tell it with the champagne and waiter spit. When we got to the table I joined the crowd again, and didn't know whether to laugh or drool at what I saw.

Lying on the table was an angelic-faced, brown-haired little boy of about six. He was totally naked and his cocklet, two or three inches long, was erect, almost glowing an angry red. His face was flushed and he was panting. From the way his toes were curling, I guessed that he was just coming down from a dry orgasm. The senator reached out and stroked his hair tenderly.

"Hey, Cameron, you okay?"

The boy nodded, smiling.

"Maxie, this is Cameron the Third, my second oldest grandson. Cammie, this is Maxie, Mr. Harris' oldest son."

We smiled at each other, and then Cam asked, "Is his cock as big as his daddy's?"

The Senator must have caught the expression on my face. "No kid pro quo, son. Little Cam here likes a good hard fuck and your Dad was willing to oblige. As for Maxie's dick, Cammie, well, not yet. Not yet."

The boy licked his lips, and kept his eyes glued on my crotch. Casually, the Senator picked up a small bowl from beside the child's head.

"Caviar, Maxie?" Suiting actions to words, he spooned the salty delicacy all over the little boy's cock.

I swooped like a hawk, engulfing the baby dick in my mouth, sucking greedily, desperately, as I ran my fingers across his smooth, soft skin, tweaking his nipples. I was only vaguely aware of the fingers undoing my pants, of the fabric falling to the floor, of the mouth starting to eat my ass. It wasn't until after Cammie's hips buckled in my mouth as I brought him to another dry cum, that I looked up and to my left to see his grandfather's big meat jutting out of his fly.

I twisted my torso so I could stretch out my tongue, and lick a salty drop of cum from his piss-slit. Slowly, I licked all around the edge of his helmet, hearing him catch his breath. He and I are both uncut; and our cock heads are really sensitive around the rim. A rough stroking from the tongue there sends jolts of pleasure/pain through the length of our dicks. Once, I shot a bucketload of cum just from that. Of course, I was on more of a hair-trigger that time because it was my baby son suckling me as my Dad screwed my ass.

My cunthole was wet with saliva now, and I felt the mouth withdraw and a big cockhead start to press into me. Whoever it was, was taking it slow and gentle. I didn't want that. With an animal growl, I let go of Senator Graham's dick and rammed myself backwards.

It hurt, but it was a good pain. I gasped for breath and felt my eyes water as the impact bruised my prostate and sent a jet of pure sensation coursing through my teen cock. Whoever was fucking me must have picked up what I wanted I felt his hands going to my tits, pinching and twisting the nipples savagely. I'd be bruised there tomorrow for sure. Good. Maybe I'd have Paul rough me up a bit tomorrow. The pain from my tits would add some spice. Hissing like a snake, I sank back onto the Senator's cock, deep-throating him and using my gag reflex to massage him.

I felt a small mouth close over my own erection. Cammie, I guessed, as my eyes were shut. He must have crawled off the table and then got in front of me. I probed experimentally, feeling the tightness of the baby throat as it choked on my seven inches of teen boy meat. I couldn't see much with the Senator's taut, hairy stomach filling my vision like his dick was filling my throat, but I reached out a hand and found an absolutely hairless little cocklet standing iron-hard between slender thighs.

"Good boy, Cameron. Take it all the way...all the way down, son," the guy fucking me growled.

Cameron II, never Junior? I was sucking off a grandfather while I jacked his grandson--who was also giving me a blowjob--and it was the kid's father who was fucking me. Sweet. I drove deeper into the little boy and played with him more roughly.

"Give him your pussy, Cameron."

My cock twitched inside the child's mouth as I felt him shift under me. Senator Graham pulled free of my hungry sucking and stepped back, stroking himself.

I felt the shock of cold air on my saliva-soaked cock as Cameron III released it and scooted around on the floor underneath me. His dad stopped fucking me and lulled me upright, his palms pressed against my abused tits, as the little boy lay down flat on his back and lifted his legs, exposing his hole to my hungry gaze. It was so totally fucking perfect, a winking, brownish-pink ring, a well-used little ring, set in a tiny bubble butt of creamy flesh. I reached a finger down to caress it.

"It's wet," I whispered hoarsely.

"My cum," his dad breathed in my ear.

I lifted my hand, tasting the semen leaking from the child's boy cunt, and then reached down to open him. I slipped one finger inside, then two, then three. It was remarkably easy to spread him out, and he let out a sound half-way between a whimper and a groan as I rubbed his tiny prostate.

I looked up at Senator Graham and licked my lips. Keeping my eyes locked with his, I leaned down, extending my tongue as far is it would go, driving it deep into the little boy's hole. As slowly as I could, I pulled it out again, making sure that the senator could see the load of his son's cum that I'd just lapped out of his grandson's boy-cunt.

It was good. Thick and salty--daddy must have been saving up a load for some time. I closed my eyes as I swallowed, tilting my head back so father and son could see my boyish Adam's apple working, swallowing the load. Then I leaned down again, breathing heavily on that tiny little bubble butt as my tongue snaked out for a second taste of the little boy.

His dad's swollen cock twitched violently inside my ass, as I felt fresh stabs of pain from my nipples as he mauled them. My own dick was hot and aching, and I knew the temptation to bury it inside the child's ass would soon be overwhelming, I wanted to hold back as long as possible, to torment us all with the anticipation so that the sweet relief of the fucking would be even better.

"You really are a fucking pedophile," his dad whispered in my ear. "Fifteen years old, and you're as big a pervert as any man here." His hand went to my cock, jutting proud and uncut between my shaved thighs, and his thumb ran over the piss-slit, smearing my freely leaking precum all over the helmet. I squeezed my ass-muscles around his throbbing prick, squeezing tightly. I wondered, for a second, about turning around to look at him, but something in me was turned on by the thought of being fucked anonymously, by a man I'd never even seen. It made me feel slutty and wanton, and that was the way I wanted to feel right now.

"You want to know big a pervert I am?" I whispered back at him. "I'm a daddy, too. When I was twelve years old my grandfather jacked me off into a test tube while my daddy fucked my ass. I was thirteen when my son was born. And I started him early when we brought him home. Of course, my little baby son suckled my cock first. And since then he's cheerfully and eagerly had my daddy. My granddaddy. My twin brothers who were six when he was born. And everyone who works on the estate, and their children. The youngest kid he's given a blowjob to has been four. But his asshole cherry is still intact. And I'm going to take it soon, and then share him with Dad and Grandpa. That's how perverted I am."

"Oh shit. Oh sweet motherfucking Jesus, get your cock in my son right fucking now. NOW!" One hand was gripping my prick like a vice. The other was twisting my nipples savagely, bringing fresh tears to my eyes with the pain of it. But I was smiling through the tears. I know I have this really sick, twisted smile. I've seen it often enough--my bedroom ceiling is mirrored. Don't get me wrong, normally I look like this clean-cut, clean-thinking, totally respectable all-American boy, the sort that any mom would be happy to have for a son-in-law. (That's a laugh. Every now and then, my grandfather will slide his dick into a little preteen girl, but I have always strictly avoided female cunt. I don't quite know why. Maybe I'm asserting my gay identity. That's what that shrink who stayed with us last year said. Though I suspect he only said it because he wanted into my pants and didn't realize at first that he had no need to talk me into it. Dad funded some new psychiatric institute he wanted to set up, to treat "sexual disorders." Knowing Dad, it was a front to find good-looking perverts to add to our web of pedo contacts. Whatever.)

But anyhow...that smile I get when I'm wallowing, drowning, choking in sex...that's when you see the real me. I know what my father and grandfather did to me. I'm not stupid. They moulded me, shaped me, depraved me and corrupted me until I was as perverted, as sexually voracious, as unwilling to let conscience stand in the way of my cock, as they are. Only the thing is, I fucking love who and what I am. I love my own perversion and corruption. The thought of just how depraved I'm being when I fuck a little boy's ass is almost as thrilling to me as the feel of his tight little ass gripping my cock.

And I was smiling my sick, real-me smile as I looked down at the little boy pointing his ass at me.

"Turn around, Cameron. I want to see your face when I fuck your little baby cunt."

His dad choked back a little moan when he heard me say that. Cameron scooted around on the floor and lay down on his back, giggling a little as he looked up at me. He looked so soft, so tender and innocent, an open little face with a sweet, endearing smile. Only his reddened little cocklet, standing up as hard as a tiny iron bar, spoiled the image of childish vulnerability.

"I'm going to fuck you now, little boy," I whispered at him. "Would you like that?"

He giggled a bit more. "Yes. Oh, yes, please."

I leaned over him. My cock poked hard against his tiny, slightly bruised pink ring. I have the same big-dick genes as my dad and grandfather, and it looked obscenely, impossibly huge against the opening. I stroked my thumbs against his nipples. "Then ask me nicely, Cameron."

A little pink tongue flickered over his lips. "Please, Maxie, fuck my boy-cunt with your big cock." He said it in a sing-song voice--it was obviously a line he'd been taught. Somehow that made it even better.

I sank my cock into him. I was trying to be gentle, but his dad slammed up against me, burying himself balls-deep in my own ass, and converting my slow entry into a single, vicious thrust. The boy let out a wailing cry that mixed pain and pleasure as I penetrated him.

Oh fuck, fuck, FUCK, was he tight around me. Tight and hot and wet with his own father's thick, salty cum. Once he was over the initial shock he started to massage my dick with his ass, so expertly that I knew he hadn't been a virgin for a long time. Maybe he was a born slut. Like I believe I must be. How old had he been, the first time? I opened my mouth to ask, but Senator Graham pounced, thrusting his own meat right down my throat. I tried to relax, breathing through my nose and using my gag reflex to massage the invading cock, but he wasn't making it easy for me. Well, that was okay. I wasn't in the mood for easy. I was in the mood to be violated, raped, used. I think the Senator's son sensed that too, because he suddenly started ramming my ass like a maniac, slamming home with savage force, like he really, really wanted to hurt me.

Or maybe I wasn't the one he wanted to hurt. Maybe in his mind it was his little boy he was nailing, and I just happened to be in the way. The pounding I was getting was sure as hell ramming my cock into Cameron III, right up to the hilt. My balls were actually knocking against his butt-cheeks, adding an extra little spice of pain to the overload of sensation I was getting.

Senator Graham had yanked off his jacket and shirt and let his pants fall to the floor, leaving him as good as naked. His grey-furred chest was filling my vision. I reached up to grab his tits and looked down at Cammie from the corner of my eye.

Oh, my fucking God...the kid was jacking his little boy cock as I fucked him, smiling up at me even as his whole little body was rocked by what I--and his Dad--were doing to him. My brothers love a rough fuck too, but I've not seen many children handle a violent screwing as well as little Cameron. He was a real chip off the old block. Talking of which...I slid my hands from the Senator's chest down and around to his ass, pulling the cheeks apart and probing his hole. Cameron Graham (no number, no "senior" after the patriarch's name) doesn't have any hang-ups about taking it as well as dishing it out. At my fourteenth birthday party, one of my seven-year-old brothers actually fisted him. He was moaning and grunting like fuck in front of everyone there, more than a hundred guests. I've never seen his cock so big and hard, and believe me, I've seen his cock a hell of a lot. He blew a load like a volcano. I feel quite proud of myself for not spilling a drop (naturally, as the birthday boy I got the special treat). I swallowed every last dribble of his juices. Dad and Grandpa told me how proud of me they were when we went to bed that night. (That morning, really; it was about 5 a.m., but as it was a special occasion they'd let me snort a little coke and all three of us still had raging hardons even though our balls were totally drained and we were sore as hell. It was one of the best parties I can remember).

The Senator's hands were on the back of my head, forcing me down on his dick. I began to gag violently, not fighting it but allowing the reflex to work on the invading cock, stroking it. I knew I'd have a hell of a sore throat tomorrow to go with my bruised nipples and aching ass, but it was worth it. I groped the Senator's gray-furred chest frantically, feeling the nubs of his big, nipples like hard little stones beneath my hands. I closed my fingers, pinching them, deliberately teasing him so he'd want to punish me. He yanked at my hair cruelly, sending stabs of pain through my scalp to match his brutal thrusting into my mouth. Then I felt tiny hands on my own nipples, and I realised that little Cammie had decided to help me by helping his daddy give me a tit workout. He was quite a little sadist, and I could feel his little fingers abusing my sensitive nubs viciously. the little punk wanted to play it like that, huh? I let my hands fall from Senator Graham's muscular chest to the smooth, babyish boy tits of his grandson. He was deliciously smooth and soft, even his pale pink nipples gently rubbery rather than hard. I ran my fingers over them, savouring their softness, and then I struck, pinching them, yanking them, twisting them and scratching them. His cunt tightened even further around my cock with each violation, and his fingers on my own teats grew even more savage and unrestrained. He was loving every fucking second.

Oh, he was a horny little fucker, this one. How long had his father been using him? I made a mental note to ask in the small part of my mind that wasn't functioning on a purely animal level.

I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Our little group was getting surrounded by men. Naked men. Jacking themselves, jacking each other, watching a teenage boy fuck a preteen boy as he got fucked himself and sucked dick. I flaunted myself for them. I deliberately pulled my cock almost all the way out of that kiddy boy cunt, making sure they could all see its length, see his ring distended around the helmet, before sinking it back into him. His dad was licking my ear and breathing harder and harder. I could feel his cock, swelling inside my ass, and I knew he was getting close. I was, too.

Cum splashed onto my back in three long, hot jets. A moment later, more of it splashed on my neck and arms. Daddy leaned down and started lapping it up, his tongue rough against my skin. His cock surged inside me and I froze, savouring the sensation of his seed pumping out, filling my hungry ass. It was an effort not to cum myself from the feeling, but I struggled desperately to hold back.

I moaned in frustration as the fleshy spear pulled wetly out of my hole, leaving a slimy trail behind it. Then I felt a tongue against the opening, drinking up the cum dripping from my distended, flexing opening. More hot splashes against my skin, and suddenly what seemed like a forest of tongues were crawling all over my skin, feasting on my body.

Senator Graham yanked his cock free from my throat. His rough, callused hand ran over it, using my saliva a lube. His muscular, grey-haired chest was heaving as he panted, faster and faster.

I stepped up my abuse of his grandson's baby tits as I gazed up into the Senator's eyes. I didn't flinch as jet after jet of hot semen surged out of his cock and splashed against my face. I just crouched there and took it, staring up at him.

Gasping, he squatted on his haunches. His cock, still almost fully erect, flopped down between his legs and dripped a few more drops of cum on the marble floor.

His kissed me. It wasn't affectionate, or gentle. It was animalistic and demanding and brutal. His tongue scrubbed across my face like a dog licking at its balls before it thrust the taste of him into my mouth.

Underneath me, Cameron III started to shudder in a dry orgasm. His little fingernails actually drew blood from the skin around my nipples as his tight ass channel contracted around my cock. The mix of pleasure and pain was just too much. I lost it.

My body convulsed as my teen dick sent juice flooding into Cameron's ass. Locked in a lustful, deep-tongued French kiss with a United States Senator, with another tongue drilling my teen boy cunt and men around me licking spilled man juices from my skin, I felt my vision greying out with the force of it. I didn't actually faint, but I swooned, all but collapsing on top of the hairless little boy beneath me. Only the Senator's strong arms held me up.

I closed my eyes. This was what I lived for. This was what I needed, to quench--however temporarily--the fire that raged forever in my groin.

But even in that transcendent moment, knowing there were other transcendent moments yet to happen tonight, there was some little part of me that felt alone.