Date: Sat, 19 Nov 2022 22:12:53 +0100 (CET)
From: Teta Veleta <tetaveleta@tutanota.com>
Subject: Stranger in the Movie Theater - Chapter 4 (Gay/Incest)

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I have to say thank you once more to everyone who's written. Whether it was
just a quick note to let me know you busted a load to my writing or a
longer letter about what this story has meant to you, whether it was just
one time or we've gotten into a lengthy back-and-forth - I love hearing
from you all.

It's Ryan's turn in the spotlight this time, but Ollie fans don't worry:
the teenager is more than happy to share it with his younger friend - and
there's certainly more to come for our favorite little Disney fan.

-------------

The Stranger in the Movie Theater - Chapter 4


I was sitting alone in a darkened movie theater. Where was Ollie? I was
sure I had brought him with me. Maybe he was still with me and I just
couldn't see him because it was so dark, I reasoned. When the movie started
there would be light, and then I would see.

But the image that formed on the screen was dark. I could barely make out
trees - a forest, at night. This was no Disney cartoon, I realized. Was I
in the wrong theater?

At first there was no motion, but then slowly, silently, smoothly, the
camera slid along through the trees. The image filled me with dread. There
was something waiting.

The camera turned and through the trees I was facing a squat brick building
with a flat roof. I didn't recognize it but I knew it. I'd been here
before. I'd been here for a long time. Something told me to turn and run
the other way but instead I started to walk toward it. The trees slid by
around me.

I reached the door. The cracked and weather-beaten plastic sign on it read
MEN. On the icon of a man next to it someone had sharpied a big cock, as
erect as mine was. My hand was going to the knob, touching it lightly,
hesitating, gripping it, turning it. Not wanting to, I pushed the door open
and stepped in.

It was darker inside than out but I could see the grotty tile and stained
porcelain and moldy ceiling and spotted and cracked mirrors and chipped and
worn plastic. Stale piss. I looked at myself in the filthy mirror and
didn't recognize my face, or maybe just couldn't see it. I looked down at
my feet and I was standing in a puddle of unknown liquid, but I noticed
with relief that my shoes, a pair of brown loafers unlike anything I would
wear, were clearly not my shoes. Then it's someone else's problem, I
thought.

I started to hear a sound and I'd been hearing it all along. It wasn't the
tock-tock-tock of a clock like I assumed, it was more of a slapping, wetter
somehow. And there was another sound that belonged with it, high-pitched
and jolting, a sound of...

Fear gripped me in the stomach and suddenly I heard my own voice calling,
"Ollie? Ollie, where are you?" Was that voice coming from me?

"Daddy? Daddy!" Was that Ollie's voice?

"Daddy's right here, Ollie!" I said. "I'm coming!" *Was* that my voice?

I ran down the line of stalls, pushing doors open. Dim figures writhed and
moaned and laughed at me but none were my boy. The stalls seemed to stretch
to eternity but finally I reached the oversize handicapped stall at the end
of the row. I reached out a hand to push the door open but stopped, too
afraid. I looked down under the door and saw those brown loafers again, and
I was standing in them and I was in the stall, dress pants that weren't
mine down around my feet, and oh god, I was raping my little boy. My cock
was as erect as the one on the men's room door, bigger than I'd ever seen
it before, and I was slamming it into my son's tiny defenseless ass while
he cried and begged me to stop. I laughed and slapped him across the
face. I could see the loafers standing outside under the door and didn't
care who saw.

I was outside the stall, sobbing, recognizing the sneakers and pushed-down
gray sweatpants I could see inside it under the door, knowing whose they
were, knowing exactly what was going on in there, afraid to find out. I
couldn't push the door open but it opened anyway and there was a face I
couldn't see in the gloom under a baseball cap pushed down low, grinning at
me like a jackal, a monster raping my son right in front of me. His long,
pointed tongue came out and licked his lips sensually.

"Ollie!" I yelled.

"Dad!" the child moaned. Why did he sound like he was enjoying the terrible
things this monster was doing to him? And when did Ollie start calling me
Dad instead of Daddy? He was growing up so fast. His body was little but
shouldn't it have been even littler? But it had to be Ollie. It was my son.

The monster clawed a hand down my chest and I saw he was me. "Just getting
him ready for you, daddy," I said, grinning. I looked down at the boy I was
raping and it was Ryan. His beautiful tear-soaked face looked back up at me
and I heard his high-pitched prepubescent voice say, "Thank you, Dad."

I yelled out loud and sat bolt upright in bed, breathing heavily. I felt my
blood pulsing and started to understand that I was awake now. Another of
those goddamn dreams. I lay back down, my cock tenting the sheet, and
closed my eyes, trying to get back to sleep. But the creepy - and erotic -
feeling of the dream wouldn't let go of me. I knew it was ridiculous, but I
couldn't shake the feeling that something bad was happening to Ollie and
that I had to go see.

I lay there for a few minutes, trying to convince myself everything was
normal, but then gave in to the irrational feeling and got out of bed. I
padded naked down the hall, my hard cock swinging in front of me. I'll just
take a quick peek in his room, I thought, and when I see he's fine I'll go
back to bed.

I pushed his cracked door open a little bit further and saw Ollie lying on
his back in his racecar bed, his sheets pulled up to cover most of his face
with his little hands gripping onto it tight. His eyes were wide open. My
cock twitched and I pushed the door the rest of the way open. He saw the
motion and turned his eyes to look at me. He looked so scared.

"Oh, sweetie," I said. "What's wrong? Did you hear Daddy yell?"

He nodded.

I went into the room. His frightened eyes followed my cock as I walked to
his bed and sat down on the edge of it. "I'm sorry, buddy," I said, putting
a comforting hand on his chest over the blanket. "Daddy just had a bad
dream. You know how you have bad dreams sometimes?" He looked up from my
cock to my face and nodded, so I said, "Well, Daddy gets those too
sometimes. But it's okay, it wasn't real and it's over now. Okay?"

"Okay Daddy," he said, a little uncertainly. His eyes went back down to my
cock and changed, the way they do. A little hand snaked out from the
blanket and wrapped itself around my hardon. I hadn't even realized how
much precum I'd been leaking until his stroking hand spread it all over my
glans and shaft. I closed my eyes in pleasure and let my son jack me off
for a minute or two, rubbing his chest softly, figuring it would calm him
and maybe help him get back to sleep.

Careful not to disturb his hand, I lifted my ass up just enough to pull the
blanket out from under me, and then pulled it off of him entirely. I put my
hand back on his chest and stroked it gently, then moved up to the neck of
his Minecraft onesie and slowly pulled the zipper down, down, down, all the
way to the crotch. My breath came out of me in shudders as I watched his
little body reveal itself more and more to me. His stiff little dick popped
out and I gripped it in my thumb and forefinger, feeling its steely
hardness. In his little racecar bed, in the glow of his nightlight, my son
and I jacked each other off.

Part of me wanted this, just this, to last forever, or at least for hours,
but it was a school night. Ollie really had to go back to sleep, and I was
starting to realize just how incredibly horny I was after all. So I stood
up, my cock slipping out of his grasp. He gaped up at me, his sex look
turning partway into one of confusion. I gripped him by the chest and
flipped him over onto his belly, yanked the onesie off of one arm and then
the other, pulled the fabric down to his waist, then pushed the rucked-up
mass of it down over his little ass.

I got onto his bed and straddled him, my knees pressing into the mattress
on either side of his legs, and pushed my hard, wet cock between his ass
cheeks. I sighed at the familiar feeling of my son's hole gripping his
daddy's cock. He started to whimper and cry out some, and I started fucking
hard and fast.

I've found these nighttime visits go easier and quicker if I let him yell,
so I gripped him by the hips and left his mouth uncovered and blew in about
five minutes. I might have gone a little too hard on him that time because
he was kind of sniffling some when I tucked him in afterwards, but at least
he didn't seem worried about my nightmare scream anymore and I think he
fell back asleep okay enough.

As for me, there was no way I was getting any more sleep that night, so I
went downstairs and started a pot of coffee going, the images from the
dream still whirling in my mind.

It was clear enough where they'd come from.

That day in the movie theater men's room, after we double fucked Ollie,
Ryan and I sat there for a moment, his bare foot on my thigh, just
breathing, listening to Ollie's whimpers. It was such a beautiful moment, I
don't think words can describe it. I felt so at peace, and so close to this
wonderful boy.

And I felt that I could ask him anything.

"Hey, Ryan?" I said.

"Hm?" he answered, sounding as contented as I was.

"Before. You said you wished your father had forced you when you were
Ollie's age?"

He sighed, perhaps longingly but not at all unhappily. "Yeah."

I hesitated, but only for a brief moment. "And you said you know you
would've thanked him later?"

"Oh," he said. "Uh, yeah. I do."

"Can I ask... how? How can you know that?" I didn't really know why but it
felt so important to me to understand this, how a boy could want to be
raped by his own dad.

He sighed again and slid off of the toilet onto the floor. He lay next to
me, his head on my chest, one leg over one of mine. I put my arm around
him, letting my hand rest in the middle of his back. So now I had two boys
curled up against me.

He looked across me to where Ollie had his head and hand on my thigh, still
recovering. I could feel wet from my son's eyes on my leg. Ryan reached out
and took Ollie's little hand in his and squeezed it gently, comforting the
boy. My heart felt like it was going to burst to see the teenager's
tenderness with my son, who he barely knew. His arm lay across my body, my
still-hard cock resting against his forearm, and I felt their two hands
clasped together on my thigh, near my hip.

He was silent for a moment and I let him be. Finally he said, "I've never
told anyone this before, but I was raped when I was 11."

I felt my eyes widen. "Raped? Like..."

"Like rape. Like I didn't want it, and he forced me."

Feeling stricken, I stroked the teenager's back comfortingly. Who could
want to hurt this beautiful boy? Ollie's quiet whimpers filled a moment of
silence. "I'm so sorry," I said, finally. "Who? Not your father..."

"No, not my dad. I don't know who. A stranger. And thanks, but it's
okay. It was scary and painful when it happened but I'm actually really
glad it happened now. And that's... That's how I know. The only thing I
regret about it is that it wasn't my dad who did it. And that it didn't
happen sooner."

Involuntarily I felt my hand starting to stroke my own son's back too. A
little at a loss for words, I asked the only question I could think to
ask. "What happened?" Ryan was silent for a moment so I started to say,
"I'm sorry, you don't have to talk about it if you-"

"No, no," he said. "I want to. I just need to..." He trailed off, paused,
then said, "Really I *did* want it, in a way. Just not the way it
happened. When I was 11 I wanted sex all the time but I didn't know how to
get it. I wasn't even shooting yet and I didn't have any hair, but I was
horny all the time. I used to, like, hump my pillows, like a dozen times a
day. And it was always other boys I thought about when I did it. I kept
wanting to try to start something with some of my friends but I couldn't
figure out how and I didn't really have the guts anyway."

Hearing him describe himself as a sex-crazed prepubescent boy made my cock
twitch and he must have felt it, because without letting go of Ollie's hand
he started to move his forearm up and down against it. I sighed.

"But there was this park near my school," he went on, "and some of the
other kids would say things sometimes about the 'weird men' or the 'bad
men' that hung out there. Sometimes even adults would say things. It was
like a joke people would make and it was all really vague, you know? At
first all I could think was that there were, I don't know, muggers at night
or something, but I didn't understand why that was funny."

The whole gay thing might have been new to me but I wasn't born
yesterday. "It was a... what's it called. A cruising park."

"Yeah. Obviously when I was 11 I didn't know what that was but eventually
it started to dawn on me that people were talking about men who went to the
park to have sex. With each other. So then I started to think maybe if I
just went there someone would have sex with me, like automatically or
whatever, without me having to do anything to make it happen. After all it
kind of seemed like that's what people were saying might happen if you
weren't careful, and even if they laughed when they said it like it was a
joke I thought maybe, just maybe, it could be true. So one day after
school, I went."

"And you found someone."

"Or someone found me," he said, nodding against my chest. "Not just like
that though. It's a big park, and I had no clue where to go. So I was just
walking all over the place, and I didn't see anybody at all. The weather
was kind of shitty if I remember right. I must have walked around that park
for hours, man. Finally I had to piss and there was this old men's room so
I went in there. The lights weren't working, I remember, so the only light
was from these dirty little windows way high up near the ceiling. It was
dark and scary and it stank but I went in anyway and went to a urinal and
got my dick out. There were all these drawings of cocks on the wall and
written messages that I didn't understand but I just kept reading them
trying to figure out what they meant. I think I finished peeing and didn't
really notice because I was looking at them. Then all of a sudden I felt
this hand clamp down on my mouth."

My cock twitched against his arm and he moved, bringing his and Ollie's
hands to it. They both wrapped their hands around my shaft, Ryan's over
Ollie's, and slowly stroked it. "Go on," I sighed.

"So the guy yanked me into a stall and closed the door." Ryan kind of
looked around and I wondered what it was like for him being in a men's room
stall with a man again, even if this one was clean and bright where the
other one had been dirty and dark. "I could feel him up close behind me and
then I felt his breath on my ear and this voice whispers, 'If you scream
I'll hurt you. You understand?' I've never been more scared in my life. I
nodded and he took his hand away but he was still holding me in place. I
didn't scream but god, I wanted to. Something wet went across my earlobe -
I didn't know what it was but I guess he must have licked me. I felt hands
all over my body and started crying. To me it seemed like he had way more
than two hands, and I don't think he was actually dirty or anything but it
felt like he was smearing me with grime everywhere he touched me. He told
me to shut up but I couldn't stop crying, and I felt so ashamed because I
thought I was too old to cry. I kept thinking how I wished my dad was there
to save me."

I took my hand off of my son and hugged the teen in both arms. He held on
tight to my forearm with one hand as he continued: "He had this really
scary voice, I remember. Deep. He kept saying things like 'Little faggot
looking for cock in the men's room' right in my ear. He was so much bigger
than me it felt like he was totally surrounding me, on all sides. He was
really strong, and I don't think it just seemed that way because I was
little. I remember his muscles. I'd never seen muscles like that before."

He paused and I said, "It's okay, Ryan. You can keep going if you want or
you can stop. It's up to you."

He shook his head. "I'm okay, really. Like I said, it was awful then but
now I'm glad he did it. I've just never talked about it like this
before. Anyway there's really not much more to say, I guess. I'm sure you
can imagine what happened. He tore my clothes off, like literally tore them
getting them off me. His hands were all over me, touching me places no one
had ever touched me before. My dick got hard and he laughed and called me a
little slut. He made me suck his cock, which was really scary. It was so
big in my mouth and I remember he said he'd hurt me if he felt my teeth on
it but I didn't know how to make sure they wouldn't touch it, so I just
kept trying to open my jaw wider and wider but it was already as wide open
as it would go. And when he'd shove into my mouth I kept thinking I was
never going to breathe again. Then when his cock was all wet he pushed me
over the side of the toilet and raped me in the ass. His dick wouldn't go
in at first but he kept on pushing. I remember him saying 'You *will* let
me in.' I don't really think I did let him in but finally he got it in
anyway. I'd never felt pain like that before, ever. It hurt so bad I
started to scream even though he told me not to and he covered my mouth
with his hand again and leaned over me and fucked me harder and whispered
that he loved feeling my tears on his hand."

I suddenly remembered that first day at the movies when kidhunterxxx took
my son, seeing Ollie's tears rolling down onto the man's hand covering his
mouth, and I flushed with shame even as I moaned at the feeling of the two
boys' hands stroking my cock while Ryan told me this horrible and hot
story.

"I had at least two orgasms while he was fucking me. Completely dry of
course. Even at the time I remember being confused and ashamed by that, how
it could happen while this man was hurting me. How it could feel so bad but
so good at the same time. Eventually he shoved hard into me and stopped
thrusting and just stayed inside and his body started jerking and he was
making these scary grunting noises. I didn't know what was happening at the
time but of course he was cumming in my ass. It was so different from my
little kid orgasms I didn't recognize it as the same thing. He let go of me
and I fell sort of half on my side, half face-down in front of the
toilet. My ass felt so weird. Empty. He put his foot under my shoulder and
shoved me over onto my back. I looked up at him and it's so weird, but I
don't remember seeing his face. I don't know if I blocked out the memory,
or if he had something covering it or if it was too dark or what, but it
almost seemed like he just didn't *have* a face. I have no idea what he
looked like. But god, his muscles..." Ryan inhaled and let the breath out
shakily.

A chill ran over me. That was when I started to wonder. A lot of men would
probably want to conceal their faces when raping children, so there was no
reason to think... But could it be...? I felt sick, and so aroused I
thought I might blow in Ryan and Ollie's hands any second.

"And that was it, really. He said 'Thanks for the fuck, bitch,' and left. I
was too scared to move for, I don't even know, like half an hour? But
finally I got up. I was almost amazed I could still stand. My ass was on
fire. I remember wiping it with toilet paper and being too scared to look
at what I was cleaning up off of it. Somehow I got dressed and home. I
don't even remember how I explained to my parents where I'd been or how my
clothes got so ripped up. All I remember is going to bed that night and
thinking about what happened and my dick getting so hard. And it kept
happening, whenever I'd think about what that man did to me my dick would
get hard. I realized that as scary as it was and as much as it hurt it
also... felt really good? Even just him taking me over completely,
controlling me and using me however he wanted, it felt good. Even how scary
it was felt good. And I started to wish it would happen again. I know that
sounds crazy but I did. It was so intense and everything else just seemed
bland in comparison. I even went back to that park men's room a bunch of
times but I never saw him again. Sometimes I'd see other men there but they
always left when they saw me."

I started to ask, "So that was the last time..." but then trailed off,
realizing I wasn't sure exactly what I was asking.

Ryan shrugged in my arms. "I started sucking off some of my friends after
that. I guess after what happened I felt like I knew about it now, and
trying to get things started didn't seem so scary anymore by comparison,
you know? At first it was like a you-do-me-I-do-you, no-homo kind of thing
but eventually it was just me doing it for them without them doing me
back. It's still that way. I think my friends all pretty much know I'm gay
by now but we never really talk about it. I just suck them off. But that's
all we do. A couple times I've tried to convince some of them to fuck me
but it hasn't worked. I guess a BJ is one thing but fucking a guy's ass is
too gay. I wonder sometimes if it's that they're afraid to see me enjoying
it. I don't know, we don't talk about it. But I like sucking them off. But
I was never with a real grownup man again until..."

I swallowed heavily. "Until me." God, no wonder he'd been so nervous.

"Yeah."

"And... your father? How did you start wanting to do it with him?"

Ryan sighed. "So, I said I never told anyone before but that's not exactly
true. I never told anyone *all* of it before, or how I felt about it, but I
did end up telling my parents some of what happened. After that day they
could tell something was different and they kept asking me if I was okay,
saying I could tell them anything, that kind of thing. They meant well but
I hated it. So after a few months I told them, thinking it would make them
stop. But then of course it was this big thing, cops at the house, all
kinds of questions. And it was really embarrassing because whenever the
cops would ask me about it I'd get hard and I'd be afraid they would
notice. I realized I didn't *want* the guy to get in trouble so I started
telling all kinds of lies about what he looked like and the things he
said. Eventually they stopped asking me questions. One time I heard my
parents talking with this one police psychiatrist lady who was always
interviewing me, asking her why I was saying all these things that didn't
make sense, and she was telling them that 'traumatized children are often
confused,' so I don't think they realized I was lying on purpose. Anyway
after a while it all kind of died down and my parents mostly tried to
pretend it never happened, which was a big relief. But one night like a
year later, when I was 12, these two guys in suits came to the door. Police
detectives or something. My parents sent me upstairs to my room but I snuck
back down and listened from the stairs. They were saying a video had
surfaced."

My cock lurched in their hands. Ryan squeezed Ollie's fingers on it.

"I remember that's the word they used, 'surfaced'. I never saw a camera or
a phone or anything when it happened but apparently the man recorded
himself raping me and posted it online somewhere, and the cops had found it
and identified the boy in the video as me. The detectives wanted to ask me
more questions but my father got mad and didn't let them. My mom was
crying. Eventually the detectives left and I went upstairs and jacked off
like four times before I could finally fall asleep that night. By then I
was shooting a little cum."

"That... that *is* kind of hot," I admitted.

"It is! It is. It's so fucked up but I'm kinda glad there's a video out
there? It was such an important thing in my life. And it actually turns me
the fuck on to know there must be guys getting off to it. I really want to
see it. I've thought about trying to find it a bunch of times but then I
get too scared about getting in trouble looking for kiddie porn so I never
have. Plus I wouldn't even know where to look."

Join the club, I thought.

"Anyway after that I started to think... like, what does my dad think about
all this? Does he understand that I went to the park that day *looking* for
sex? He might not. But he definitely *knows* that some man raped me, and he
*knows* there's a video of it. Does he wonder what the video's like? What
it shows? How could he *not* wonder? Like, it's in his mind now. When he
looks at me, does he think about it? Does he want to see it? *Has* he seen
it? And eventually I realized I *wanted* him to see it. And that I wanted
him to get hard watching it. I started to hope that he jacked off watching
me get raped, which was also when I first started to realize that he
probably did jack off, so then I started to wonder about what he looked
like doing it and wishing I could see. And then I started to wish that it
was HIM in the video raping me, that it was him in that bathroom when I was
11, that he'd started fucking me even earlier than that, that he'd been
fucking me all through my childhood and was still doing it now, that he'd
raised me to be..." He sounded on the verge of tears, but he choked them
back. "I know he loves me, but I want him to *use* me, like that man used
me."

Suddenly I found myself looking down at my own son curled up against my
leg, his hand covered by Ryan's on my cock. He was still whimpering
slightly, not yet recovered from what Ryan and I had done to him. For the
first time it occurred to me to wonder, not how he felt about all this now,
but how he was *going* to feel about it later in life, when he was old
enough to understand. Say, a decade on, a teenager himself - would he be
glad it happened, like Ryan was? Would he be thankful his dad had used him
and let other men use him? What would happen if I kept on using him?

What would happen if I *stopped* using him, like I kept telling myself I
would?

After what Ryan had told me, how could I stop now?

I looked back to Ryan and realized he'd turned his face up to look at
me. He smiled, uncertainly.

"Thank you for telling me that, Ryan," I said. "It means a lot to me. More
than I can say."

"Thank you for letting me tell you," he said. "It... It feels good to tell
someone. To tell you. You're..." He stopped, like he couldn't figure out
how to continue, but I felt like I knew what he meant: You're the kind of
dad I wish mine could be. I held him tight.

He squeezed Ollie's hand around my cock gently and I involuntarily closed
my eyes at the pleasure, then opened them again and looked into his moist
eyes. He swallowed, looking like he was wrestling with himself over what he
was about to say. Finally, very hesitantly, he said, "Can I... or, can
we...." He stopped, closed his eyes, opened them, and started again, a tear
making a track down one cheek. "Can you fuck me?"

Now I hesitated. I looked down at the teenager in my arms and he looked so
vulnerable. So young, suddenly. "Are you sure you..."

"I'm sure," he said, looking like he was trying to look certain. "But if
you don't-"

I cut him off. "Of course I want to, Ryan. I've wanted to since the first
time I saw you." It was true, I realized. "Will it be the first time
since..."

He nodded. "Since five years ago. Since him. Yes."

My cock was so goddamn hard, but I was worried for him too. "It might
hurt," I said.

He smiled, almost dreamily. "I know. Just promise not to stop."

"I promise," I said, smiling back.

He sat up, taking his hand off my cock, but Ollie's stayed wrapped around
it, going up and down on its own now. "Ollie," I said, "let go of my cock,
okay buddy? Daddy needs it back." My son stopped jacking me off and looked
up at me, and I saw that his whimpering had finally more or less stopped
and his sex look had taken over again. His hand stayed on my cock, though,
so I gently unwrapped his fingers myself and pushed it away. I sat forward
and grabbed him under the armpits and hoisted him up. Normally he would
have squealed with laughter at flying through the air in my hands like that
but now he just stayed silent. Once I got him into my lap he looked up at
me blankly.

Ryan was watching me too, looking a little puzzled. "Just want to get a
little lubed up," I explained. I reached over Ollie's little leg to grab my
cock, aimed it upward, and pushed my son down on it. So soon after his
double penetration, it sank all the way inside his ass easily, though he
did let out a little involuntary yelp. I ran my cock in and out of his
cummy ass a couple times, getting it nice and wet, then pulled out. I
lifted my son off of me and put him on the men's room floor, ass-up, so I
could shove a few fingers inside him and get them slicked up too.

I looked over at Ryan, who smiled nervously, his adam's apple bobbing, and
stood up. He went to the toilet and draped himself over it, a much bigger
boy but otherwise just like Ollie had been when we'd spitroasted him - and
just like he had been himself when a stranger had stolen his innocence from
him in that other men's room five years earlier. I got up too and
positioned myself behind him. He looked so beautiful lying there,
vulnerable, a little frightened, offering himself to me. I brought my wet
fingers to his ass and smeared our mingled cum up and down his crack,
hearing him moan as my touch brought him pleasure. I ran my fingers over
his hole, pushing against it enough to feel the resistance, circling a
fingertip around it, and he moaned more.

Without warning I shoved two fingers inside. His body jerked and he
shouted, and I quickly leaned down over him and covered his mouth with my
other hand. "Shh, shh," I whispered in his ear. "If you
scream... Understand?" He nodded and I let go of his mouth and stood
upright again. I fucked my fingers in and out of his ass, feeling the
tightness of it, hearing his shuddering breath.

"Don't.... nnnggggh... don't worry about opening me up too much first," he
panted. "Just as long as.... mmmmm fuck.... just as long as you can get
in."

"You sure?" I asked. He'd almost sounded like he was about to cry and I
wasn't sure if I knew why.

"Yes! Just fuck me!" he whisper-shouted, his adolescent voice cracking on
the word "fuck".

I pulled my fingers out of his ass and laid my cock against his crack. I
humped it a few times, hearing him moan again. I ran my hands up and down
his slender back. "Fuck, Ryan, you are so goddamn sexy," I said.

Still with that near-tears tremble in his voice, much quieter and more
hesitant than he'd been just a moment before, he said, "My... When I was
little, before... before.... my dad used to call me Ry-guy..."

Now it was my turn to get misty-eyed. I knew why he was telling me that,
and I knew what "before" meant: Before I was raped. Before I grew up too
soon. Before I stopped being a kid in my dad's eyes. I could hear the
fervent emotion in my own voice when I said, "You are so fucking sexy,
Ry-guy." A moan sobbed out of him.

I gripped my cock and rubbed the glans over his hole, starting to push in
each time I passed over it. There was a lot of resistance and I found
myself saying, "You *will* let me in, Ry-guy." Then suddenly the tip popped
in and he gasped. I pushed and felt my cockhead press into him until it
sank all the way in, the ridge gripped and held inside by his tight
sphincter muscle. He cried out and I laid down over his back to cover his
mouth again. "Oh, fuck," I said. "I'm in, Ry-guy. I'm inside you."

His near-virgin ass was tighter on my cock than my son had been just a
moment before, despite his being so many years older and closer to
full-grown. I looked down at Ollie, who was still on the floor where I'd
left him, staring up at us in confusion and perhaps fear, and I was nearly
overcome at the thought of what a little slut I'd ended up turning him
into. I never meant it to happen but somehow it had.

But this wasn't Ollie's moment - it was Ryan's. I turned my attention back
to the teenager I was fucking, feeling his body shaking under me, hearing
and feeling him moan his pain into my hand.

I held still until he calmed down a little, then let go of his mouth. "Does
it hurt?" I asked.

"Yes," he whispered.

"Too much?"

I heard his breathing, fast, arrhythmic. After a moment he shook his head
no, then paused and nodded his head yes.

It *was* too much, I knew. I felt a terrible guilt at causing this
wonderful, beautiful boy pain, and I almost pulled out, apologized. But
then I remembered my promise. "You told me not to stop," I reminded him.

"I know," he whispered.

"I'm not gonna stop."

"I know."

"I'm sorry, Ry-guy, but I'm not going to stop. Don't scream. Do you think
you're gonna scream?"

A pause, and then he nodded yes. So I covered his mouth again and pushed my
cock deeper into his resisting ass. And he did scream, but my hand muffled
most of it. My other hand gripped the teenager hard at the hip as my cock
sank deeper and deeper into him. I could feel his back against my chest and
stomach, both of us slick with sweat.

Finally my cock was buried to the hilt, my pubes pressed flat against his
ass. I stopped there, letting him feel me inside. His screams subsided but
I felt his lips and cheeks move under my hand as he shut his eyes tight,
squeezing tears out of them that I felt as warm moisture on my hand.

I pressed my mouth against his ear and whispered, "I'm all the way inside
you now, Ry-guy." I don't know if the sound he made was a moan or a cry or
both. But when I pulled my cock about halfway out and then rammed it back
home, he definitely started to cry. Part of me felt terrible about it but I
couldn't deny that my cock was furiously hard and my whole body on fire
with arousal. And besides, he'd asked for it. He'd been looking for it for
five years. So I slammed into him again and he shouted into my muffling
palm. Tears flowed down his cheeks over my hand and I heard myself say,
"Fuck, I love feeling your tears on my hand, Ry-guy."

Suddenly Ollie's voice startled me. "Daddy...?" he said, sounding so
scared.

I looked down at my son and he was watching me all but rape the older boy
right in front of him. He was still naked, of course, but his hardon and
the sex look were gone. It was Ollie the little boy staring at me now, and
his cute little lips were trembling, about to cry. I felt like I knew what
he was thinking: Why is my daddy hurting that big boy? My heart broke to
see him look so frightened... of me.

But it's not like I was going to stop.

Looking my son in the eyes, I rammed my cock into the high school kid's
ass. "It's okay buddy," I said. "Don't be scared. Everything's okay." I
slammed into Ryan again and again.

Ollie didn't look convinced so I put my mouth against Ryan's ear again and
said, "Tell him, Ryan. I'm going to take my hand away from your mouth and
you better not scream. Tell my son it's okay."

He nodded, so I took my hand away from his mouth. Now I was holding onto
the boy by both hips and could fuck him harder. My cock was pulling almost
all the way out of his ass before slamming back home with each thrust. He
sobbed but he managed not to scream.

"Tell him!" I said again.

"Ollie," Ryan managed to get out. My son's wide eyes turned to him. "Hey,
buddy," the teen said, and I looked down at him to see he was trying to
smile at my son through his tears.

Ollie stared at him, then looked back at me. "Daddy?"

"Don't be rude, Oliver," I said sternly, now really sawing my cock in and
out of the teen's ass. "Your friend Ryan... mmf... is trying to tell you
something, be a good boy and pay attention to him."

The corners of my son's lips were convulsively curling down as he tried to
hold back his tears, but to his credit he nodded and obeyed me, looking
back at Ryan.

"He-e-ey, buddy," Ryan said, even trying to give a friendly reassuring
laugh. "I know.... nnghghhhh fuck... I know this might seem really scary,
buddy. But... oh god... but don't be scared, okay? Your
daddy... ngggg... your daddy's hurting me, Ollie, but it's okay. I asked
him to do it. Oh, fuck! I like it." And he was even starting to sound like
he actually did like it, too. "Mmmm fuck. It's like... oh god fuck
me.... It's just like how you liked the things your daddy and me did with
you before, right?"

Ollie looked up at me again and the poor guy, overwhelmed, finally burst
into the tears that had been building up for so long.

"Aww, c'mere, buddy," Ryan said. To my surprise, Ollie actually got to his
feet and trundled over to stand by Ryan's head on the other side of the
toilet from me. Ryan took his hand and held onto it, comforting him again
just like he had after we'd fucked his ass together. For a teenager he was
really great with kids, I realized. He'd make a wonderful babysitter - and
maybe even be a great dad someday. I fucked him harder while he bonded with
my son.

They weren't talking anymore. From what I could see from my angle, the
tears were drying on Ryan's face as pleasure replaced pain. He was moaning
pretty much nonstop, and I probably should have covered his mouth again to
keep him quiet but I loved hearing it too much to muffle it, so I just
gripped him by the shoulders and fucked him. As for Ollie, he was staring
openmouthed at the teenager's face, already over the sudden burst of
tears. It was impossible to know what he was thinking.

But neither of them were crying anymore. It was remarkable.

I ran the tip of my tongue along Ryan's earlobe and heard him gasp. "Little
faggot," I whispered in his ear while looking at my son looking at
him. "Little faggot looking for cock in the men's room, huh Ry-guy?"

In his intense moan I thought I could make out an "Ohhhhh, goddd..." I saw
Ollie flinch slightly - Ryan's hand had squeezed his hard - but he didn't
pull away or cry out.

I smiled, letting him feel my lips curl against his ear. "Well, you found
what you were looking for. Thanks for the fuck, Ry-guy."

Ryan turned his head desperately toward mine and we kissed. I kept fucking
him while our tongues slid against each other, first in his mouth, then in
mine, then back in his. He was so eager for the kiss that he pushed his
whole body back up into mine and somehow we ended up half-standing. I
wrapped my arms around his young body and ran my hands all over his
slender, hairless chest and his stomach, feeling the column of ferociously
clenching muscle in the center standing out against the still almost
childishly undefined sides. My body and mind were aflame with lust for the
sexy highschooler. One hand found his cock and it was rock hard. I pulled
away from the kiss, laughed, and said, "You little slut." I jacked his cock
a few times, hearing him moan, and then moved my hands back up to his
chest.

It wasn't until then that I realized that Ollie must have clambered up onto
the toilet seat lid, probably following Ryan up in an effort to maintain
that comforting hand-hold with him. Ryan looked down at him and smiled and
took him into his arms, turning him around so that the little boy's naked
back was pressed up into his front. He wrapped his arms around my son and
bear-hugged him, and Ollie hugged Ryan's arms in his littler ones. They
were getting along so well! I knew that with every thrust of my cock the
teenager's own hardon was humping along my son's back. I moaned and went on
fucking him.

Then something happened that I think we'd all forgotten was even possible:
we heard the men's room door open.

Instinctively I clamped a hand down on Ryan's moaning mouth and froze, my
cock buried all the way in his ass. Ryan, thank god, had the same instinct
and covered Ollie's mouth too.

In the sudden silence I could hear footsteps on the tile floor.

Just hurry up and piss and get out of here, I prayed silently. Just hurry
up and piss and get out of here.

The footsteps stopped - then started again. Whoever it was didn't seem to
be going to the urinals.

Insanely I felt Ryan's and my hips start to move again, slowly. I can't
know what Ryan was thinking but I felt a queasy kind of danger-arousal at
secretly fucking this high school boy when there was another man just feet
away. Ryan shuddered in my arms but stayed quiet.

Suddenly a man's voice broke the silence. "Ryan, are you in here?"

Ryan jolted under me and gasped, or tried to through my hand. Fortunately
the sound of it didn't carry. I knew I should stop but I couldn't, I just
kept slowly grinding my cock into his ass. His breath was coming in quick
bursts, the jets from his nose warm on my hand.

The man kept talking. "I didn't see you outside and they said you weren't
in the breakroom. I had to meet a client near here and I thought maybe
since it's right around your break time we could have lunch together. My
treat!"

The sound of footsteps came closer and my eyes widened when I saw a pair of
brown loafers approaching our stall through the gap under the door. I
prayed that the three of us were far enough back that the man couldn't see
our feet, that he wouldn't bend down and look under. Still slowly
thrusting, I gyrated my hips, making my cock stimulate new parts of Ryan's
rectum. His sphincter clenched down on me hard.

The man knocked on the stall door. It was the only closed door in the men's
room, I realized. "You in there, son?"

Jesus, of course, it was Ryan's *father*. No wonder the kid was shaking so
much and practically hyperventilating into my hand. Slowly I slid my cock
almost all the way out of him and then sank it home again.

"Sorry," Ryan's dad said when he got no answer, apparently apologizing to
what he must have figured was just some random person who didn't want to
answer back to an intrusive stranger in a men's room. Apology accepted,
man, now get the fuck *out* of here!

I breathed a silent sigh of relief when I saw the brown loafers and dress
pants turn and walk away. I heard footsteps for a second and anticipated
the sound of the door - but it didn't come. The footsteps stopped.

"Where *is* that kid?" the man muttered to himself. Then I thought I heard
a very faint rustling, and then silence again.

And then suddenly all three of us in the stall jumped - but, thank god,
kept quiet - when we very distinctly heard Ryan's phone buzzing in the
pocket of his discarded pants. I felt Ryan's head jerk in the universal
gesture of someone who wants to say "Fuck!" but can't.

Ryan's phone stopped vibrating. His father must have canceled the call when
he heard it. "Ryan? You *are* in there, why didn't you answer me?"

I turned Ryan's head to face me and our eyes met. I tried to convey "I
don't know, man, but you better say something" with just my facial
expression, and either he got it or was thinking the same thing, because
although his eyes were full of fear - and some other emotion I couldn't
identify - he nodded.

I took my hand away from his mouth. To my own horror, I found that I
couldn't make my hips stop pumping, driving my cock slowly in and out of
his ass, and pushing his own cock up and down along the soft skin of my own
son's back - which I knew from experience was an incredible feeling. He was
still shaking in my arms but I felt him pushing his ass back into me to
meet my thrusts.

"Jeez," he said. "Like I want to have a conversation with my *dad* while
I'm trying to take a dump."

My panicking hypersensitive ears thought I could hear "I've got a grown
man's cock in my ass right now" in every word and I hoped it didn't come
across so clearly to his father. As I'd noticed before, Ryan was absolute
garbage when it came to trying to sound casual. But at least in this moment
it seemed to work on his dad - who, I supposed, had no particular reason to
suspect anything out of the ordinary was going on.

"Alright, alright, I get it," the man said, chuckling. "Fair enough. I'll
wait outside."

Ryan pushed harder against me and I quickened the pace of my thrusts, just
a little, desperate for the feeling but not wanting to make any noise his
dad could hear until we knew he was gone. Which we both were praying would
be immediately.

Or at least I *thought* we were both praying it. But then Ryan spoke again,
delaying his dad's departure and risking him hearing the sensual abandon in
his voice. "You know, my lunch break's almost over, Dad."

Jesus christ, I thought, was that really necessary? You could say that to
him after.

His father sounded disappointed when he answered, "Oh no, did I get the
time wrong? I'm sorry, Ryan."

Pumping his hips fast enough that I could hear little wet squelching sounds
each time my cock planted itself inside his ass, Ryan practically panted
back, "That's okay, Dad. It was a nice thought, thank you." I felt his arms
wrap themselves tighter around my son underneath him.

"We'll do it another time," his father promised. Then there was a little
hesitation and he said, "Are you feeling okay, son? You sound a little..."

Ryan grunted, stifling a moan. Jesus, I thought, he's actually half hoping
his dad can hear him getting fucked. I was less thrilled about the idea
myself, but I found myself picking up my own pace and fucking him harder
anyway.

"I'm fine Dad," Ryan gasped. "It's just... nnng... just a big dump."

His father laughed, sounding relieved. "Well, I'll just leave you to it,
then."

"Okay Dad," Ryan said, or to my ears all but moaned. "Thanks for thinking
of me. I'll.... mmmmm.... see you later at home."

"Sure will," his father said, brightly. I heard footsteps for a
second. Finally, I thought. He's leaving.

But then Ryan spoke *again*. "Hey, Dad?"

The footsteps stopped. "Yeah?"

As I fucked his ass Ryan said, "I love you, Dad."

His dad didn't say anything for a second, and through some fatherly sixth
sense I knew exactly what he was feeling. He was overcome with emotion to
hear his son saying something that, I knew instinctively, he hadn't said to
him in years. Something they'd stopped saying to each other without him
even realizing it had happened. When had they stopped saying it? Was it
five years ago, after that day that had changed their lives forever?
Suddenly I found myself overcome too, and I resolved in that instant that
no matter how much I molested him, no matter how many strangers I let use
his little body, no matter how I let a predator exploit him for sleazy
child pornography, I would never, ever let me and Ollie stop saying it to
each other. I would never let him forget that his daddy loved him.

When Ryan's dad finally spoke, his voice was clenched, almost a whisper, as
if he were trying to hold back tears. "I love you too.. Ry-guy."

Ryan's body seized and spasmed under me, his arms squeezing Ollie so tight
that I heard a little high-pitched squeak even through Ryan's hand. The
teenager's gripping anus and rectum convulsed around my cock, and I
realized he was blasting his load all over my son's naked back. The
sensation on my cock and the knowledge of what was happening triggered my
own orgasm and I flooded his ass with my cum.

Somewhere in there I heard the men's room door open and close, Ryan's dad
finally leaving just after, unknown to him, his words had pushed his son
over the edge into orgasm.

"Jesus," I whispered.

Ryan turned his head back to me and kissed me hard, desperately. He let go
of Ollie to try, despite the awkward angle, to take me in his arms, and I
vaguely thought I sensed my released son plopping himself down to sit on
the closed toilet seat lid. As Ryan and I made out, our hands hungrily
gripping each other's sweaty bodies, my finally softening cock slipped out
of him and he turned to press himself into me. I cupped an ass cheek in one
hand and let my fingers slide into his crack and touch his hole, feeling
how different it was now from the tight, almost untouched bud it had been
before I busted it back open. I pushed two fingers into it. They sank in
easily and Ryan moaned happily into my mouth. I wiggled them inside him for
a moment then pulled out so I could continue caressing his young body.

Our lips separated and he pressed his forehead into mine. "Thank you," he
said.

I smiled. "You're welcome."

We gazed into each other's eyes, just holding each other.

"I don't want to," Ryan said finally, "but..."

I sighed heavily. "You have to get back to work. I know." We separated
reluctantly and Ryan started yanking out a bunch of toilet paper to try to
clean himself up some. Once he got his own cum off of his stomach I was
touched to see him wiping off my son's back, too. Ollie sat there and let
the teen tend to him. Since Ryan was using the TP dispenser I stepped in
front of Ollie and dangled my cock in his face. Despite the fact that it
was mostly soft, he knew to take it into his mouth and get to work cleaning
it off. I sighed contentedly.

Pulling on his clothes, Ryan timidly asked if we could exchange contact
info and "maybe" meet up again some other time. I sort of swooned a little
at the teenager's shyness and said of course, no maybe about it.

We both pulled out our phones, and it was only when I looked at mine that I
remembered, with a flush of shame, the video I'd started recording just
before Ryan had come into the men's room to meet me. The recording was
still going - I must have tapped in the wrong place when I'd reconsidered
and tried to stop it. There was nearly an hour's worth of video
recorded. The phone had been in my pocket nearly that entire time, so it
would just be a black screen for the most part, but I'm ashamed to say that
my cock twitched and started to chub up a little in my son's mouth at the
thought that the audio might have come through clearly. Later I'd have to
replay it and see if I could hear the sounds of Ryan and me double-fucking
Ollie, and me fucking Ryan.

But for now I hastily stopped the recording and glanced embarrassedly at
Ryan to see if he'd noticed anything. It seemed that he hadn't. Phew. I
wasn't proud of that initial impulse to secretly document our rendezvous,
even if I had thought better of it almost immediately. But now that it had
happened anyway, what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

So we exchanged our info, and Ryan made me smile by very solemnly shaking
Ollie's hand goodbye and thanking him for the nice time. Ollie didn't say
anything because his mouth was full. Then the highschooler kissed me one
last time, and he was gone.

By the time Ollie managed to milk one more load out of me so we could get
cleaned up and leave the men's room, our movie was long over. He pouted
some on the way home so I promised him we'd come back again sometime soon
and try to make it through the whole thing without interruptions.

It was only late that night, listening to the recording - which came out
immaculately - that I realized that, of course, Ryan's description of his
rape would be on there too. Lying in bed, headphones on, I listened to it,
experiencing all the intense feelings of heartbreak and arousal all over
again. When Ryan finished his story I skipped back to where he started and
listened to it again - and then again, having slipped into Ollie's room and
pulled down his little pajama bottoms. With the stimulation of Ryan
describing his rape in my ears I fucked my son really hard but I guess the
poor little guy was so worn out from his adventures that day that he didn't
even wake up. I left his ass full of cum - or okay, given how many loads
I'd already blown that day, maybe not quite *full* full - and crept back
off to bed, and even slept a little.

A day hasn't gone by since that I haven't listened to Ryan tell his story
at least once, sometimes while playing with Ollie, sometimes while just
jacking off by myself, a couple times at my desk at work. I even edited
down and converted the hour-long video so I'd have an audio file that was
just that section, starting from when Ryan says "I've never told anyone
this before" and ending with "I know he loves me, but I want him to *use*
me, like that man used me."

And so about a week and a half later, as I sat sipping coffee in my dark
kitchen waiting for the sun to come up, it made perfect sense to me that I
was having disturbing and erotic dreams about little boys getting raped in
men's rooms.

Why Ollie always made an appearance was a total mystery to me, but
kidhunterxxx was no surprise - because the more I listened to Ryan's
description of his rape, the more certain I felt that kidhunterxxx was the
perpetrator. There was no hard evidence, not even any real rational reason
to feel so strongly about it, but somehow I just had this powerful sense
that it was true.

But a powerful sense is not the same as knowing, and I had to *know*. If it
was true, the predator had impacted my life almost as much by fucking Ryan
as he had by fucking Ollie. I wasn't sure whether I wanted to thank him for
the two "gifts" or try (and, okay, fail) to kick his ass for it, but either
way I just had this overwhelming need to know.

So that morning, still under the creepy-hot spell of the dream, I opened up
the encrypted chat app and sent "ryan's story.mp3" to kidhunterxxx with the
message, "Sound familiar?"

He'd been relatively quiet the past week or so, ever since I let him know
that I'd found out about him posting my videos of Ollie to a site called
"PedoZone" (still a mystery to me). He had sent me two or three more videos
of himself and other men molesting children, and made a few more promises
that we would "talk soon" - on his schedule, not mine, it was abundantly
clear - but that was all. There was nothing new from him when I sent the
audio clip, so I just put down the phone and sat, drinking my coffee,
watching the kitchen grow brighter with the day.

Barely enough time had passed for kidhunterxxx to play the whole clip when
my phone buzzed with a new notification telling me he'd messaged me. Damn,
when did the man *sleep*?

I looked at the message - and blanched.

"So his name was Ryan, huh?" it read, followed by a "hmm" emoji.

Shit.

Then while I was staring at that another message came in - and my pulse
rate soared when I saw it was a video file, "ryan's story begins.mp4". And
then before I could react to that, a third message: "This is going to be
HUGE on PZ!" with an exploding brain emoji.

I fumbled with the phone and furiously tapped out the response, "Don't you
DARE post that clip!" Once I managed to get it out without typos I sent it
and stared at the phone, willing it to somehow magically un-send the mp3
file. But of course it didn't, and seconds stretched into minutes without
kidhunterxxx responding.

Finally I couldn't wait any longer, and with trembling hands I started the
video he'd sent.

It was only a little over a minute long, I saw. It opened on a shot of a
public restroom - a low brick building with a flat roof, similar but not
identical to how I'd pictured it in my dream. It was in a parking lot, for
one thing, not in the middle of dense forest, with only a few trees visible
in the frame. And it wasn't the dead of night, though it was an overcast
and gray day, with a few spatters of rain on the car window that, I
realized, the video was being shot through.

All was still for about five seconds, and then a boy in a cute little green
waterproof jacket walked into view in the parking lot. He was red-faced
from the brisk weather, with his hair partly plastered down across his
forehead, presumably from having been out for a long time in the light
rain. He looked around, nervous, and I stopped the video.

I stared intently at the boy, tried to zoom in on his face. He did look to
be about 11 years old - and god, he really could be Ryan. The face and hair
were different, but only in a way that a few years of puberty could
plausibly account for. And the eyes... I stared at the frozen image and
became more and more certain that this was in fact Ryan, five years ago.

"Jesus christ," I said, a little sadly, fondling my now extremely hard
cock. I started the video playing again.

The boy continued looking around just as he had been when I'd paused, and
then walked to the men's room door. He pushed it open and paused on the
threshold, half in, half out - even stepping back slightly, as if he were
afraid to enter.

"Don't go in there," I whispered, as if it were a horror movie I was
watching. "Don't go in." And just like someone watching a horror movie, I
didn't really mean it. I wanted him to go in.

And of course I knew he would. What had happened would happen.

And sure enough, after that brief hesitation, innocent little Ryan squared
his narrow shoulders and walked into the men's room, having no idea what
his decision would mean for him. Or for me. The door swung shut behind him,
as if the building had just swallowed him up.

The man behind the camera laughed, deep and rumbling, and a chill ran down
my back. There was no mistaking it: that was kidhunterxxx's laugh and no
one else's. The car door opened and the image shook as he stepped out. None
of him was visible in the frame. He kept the camera pointed straight at the
men's room, but the image jerked unsteadily with his steps as he walked
toward it. A powerful hand came into view, grabbed the doorknob, turned it,
pushed the door open, and the video ended.

-------------

This chapter is dedicated to my friend PC2424, who I hope will recognize
himself in some parts of it.
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/stranger-with-danger/