Dads 'N' Lads

Episode X - Smoke Me, Boy!

by Daddy.K

© 2014

Email: daddy.kevin.p@gmail.com
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Twitter: @daddykevinp

Why do ducks have flat feet? To stamp out forest fires.  Why do elephants have flat feet? To stamp out flaming ducks. Preserve the pristine veldt. Help stamp out flaming elephants.  DONATE TO NIFTY ARCHIVE -

 

Story Code: MBb/oral/anal

 

"Hoe. Lee. Sheet!" exclaims Bobby Dugger.

The wiry young hick is shirtless.  Oil and grease stain his arms.  A cigarette dangles from his lips.  He's in the little aluminum shed perched behind his trailer. The shed is full of shelves and toolboxes. The shelves are stacked with boxes of spark plugs.  With air filters.  With plastic bottles of oil.

"I can't fuckin' believe it!"

What Bobby can't fucking believe is the horrible emptiness in the tin where he hides his stash. The baggie is empty. A few stems, a few seeds, but how the hell can he get high off this?  And goddamnit, Bobby needs to get high. See, today is Monday, the only day Katelynn will let Bobby have what he needs.  His problem?  She doesn't want a baby, so she makes poor Bobby Dugger wrap up his daddy prong in rubber before he puts it where God commands.  Problem is, Bobby hates rubbers.  Even the smell makes his proud Daddy prong wilt.  The only way he can get it up to fuck his girl is to get stoned.

Bobby knows his supply wasn't stolen.  The padlock was intact, and there's no other way into the stifling shed. He's been smoking weed heavily.  He's just scarfed it all up and been too stoned to get some more.

Goddammit!  How the hell is he going to drain his swollen balls?  He's twenty-five!  He's got to get off!

God is kind to Bobby.  Bobby feels something pressing against his ass. Say! He pulls his wallet out.  What luck!  He's got forty dollars there that Katelynn doesn't know about. He pulls out his cell phone and dials.

"Is this Chase?"

Inside the Dugger trailer little Tyler Dugger also seethes with nervous energy.  He sits on the floor of his room, surrounded by dirty clothes and scads of plastic toys. He wants to be outside, playing with his friends. He really wants to ride his bike down to the river. He's been showing his friends his wiener. He likes showing off his hairless spike to his friends. His friends like looking at his little Vienna sausage. Some of them like touching it. Especially Danny.

Tyler is playing fireman.  His big truck, the one Santa brought last Christmas, is festooned with Transformers who've suddenly taken up firefighting.  Tyler would like to be outside, either with Daddy or with his friends riding his bike, but Daddy told him to come in here and play.

Tyler isn't sulky about this. He knows its Monday. He knows that when Mom gets home she and Dad will go into their room.  They'll tell him to go outside and play with his friends.  Sometimes he plays with his friends down by the river until night falls.  Ever since he learned to smoke, however, Tyler sneaks back into the trailer after only an hour or two away.  He likes listening to the sounds Daddy makes while he's in the bedroom with Mommy.  Mommy never makes any noise, but the noises Daddy makes causes Tyler's little dick to stiffen. Tyler likes to tug at his dick.  It makes him feel the way he does when he smokes -- all good and tingly and warm inside.  He wishes he could show Daddy his prick, but the one time he tried that Bobby Dugger had told him sternly to pull his britches back up.

"Now you go up the ladder," murmurs Tyler to the Transformer he has in hand.  The robot reaches the top of the truck's extended ladder in three bounds.  He's a very brave Transformer, for the fire rages close, and it is very fierce.

"Now put out the fire!"  Tyler makes hissing sounds, pretending the brave, manly, and rugged Transformer is peeing on Tyler's bed.  Tyler's bed, of course, serves as the flaming building. Nine year olds are happy with cheap special effects. Tyler imagines big streams pouring from the Transformer's crotch. Where, Tyler is sure, a lot of hair curls at the base of a big metal rod.  Because the Transformer, though a robot, is a man, too. Just like Chase Peake.  Just like Bobby Dugger.

"Looky! You did it!"

Tyler swivels the extended ladder away from the bed.  "Oh no!  You got all smokey!  That's OK!  I'll get it out!"

Grinning, Tyler lays down on his belly.  He points the fire truck's ladder at his face.  His moist lips gape open.  He inches forward.  His tongue extends.  His mouth engulfs the ladder.  The boy smokes.  He's very good at this.  If you'd been paying close attention to the plastic ladder before Tyler's lips closed round it, you wouldn't have seen any teeth marks.  The secret to smoking, Tyler knows, is to use the lips and the tongue. Meat cigars don't like teeth.

Watch the kid's round butt hump.  Tyler's feeling tingly down there.  He rubs his wiener on the floor, his lips fastened round the ladder.

Say! Maybe he should teach one of his friends how to smoke.  Tyler's always thought his friend Danny needed to be kissed.  So maybe --

Thump!

That is the front door of the trailer.  Tyler jumps, startled, but his lips never abandoned his task.  The smoke must be cleaned off the fire truck's extended ladder --

Crash!

Tyler looks up, still nursing.  Bobby Dugger, chest heaving, stands in the doorway. Tyler's eyes fall to the big lump in his Daddy's jeans.  He grins and hums delightedly to himself, curling his toes. You can always tell its Monday when Daddy shows a bulge like that!  Tyler's felt it sometimes under his butt, when he sits on Daddy's lap and they watch TV together.

"Tyler! What are you doing? Take that out of your mouth!"

Tyler spit out the ladder and wiped his lips.  "I'm smoking, Daddy."

"You're too young to smoke, little buddy."

"You smoke," says Tyler.

"Yeah, well, I'm a Daddy.  Listen, little buddy." Bobby held out two twenty dollar bills.  "I need you to ride your bike real fast and get me my smokes!"

Tyler leaps to his feet.  "Sure, Daddy! Where are they at?"

For a moment Chase Peake thinks a UFO just buzzed the house.  But then Chase realizes that's stark fucking stupid. Over the border in Virginia they have trouble with UFOs. He and Curtis have driven north, hoping for a deep and preferably thick anal probing.  But there have never been any UFOs in Chatauqua County. 

Then Chase realizes it’s not a UFO but a Frisbee, sailing towards the river.  He grins, watching it go.

Chase sprawls in the wading pool, cupping water in his hands and pouring it over his naked chest. As you'd guess, his mood is lazy.  He wears nothing but old Jockeys that barely fit.  They are worn and sag very low.  Since they're wet they are plastered to his body.  He's naked as he can be without incurring Keith Peake's wrath.

A fat joint hangs from his lips. Chase loves the life of teenaged drug lord. The rewards are money and ass, and these two are all he wants from life right now. His phone and wallet rest on the grass beside the wading pool.

The wading pool belongs to Seth but since he is with his Mom today Chase has appropriated it.  He's filled it with cold water from the garden hose.  Today is very warm but Chase isn't cooling off from the atmospheric heat.  No, his crotch still smolders from the weekend's non-stop pedophile fuckathon.

Not only had Chase been involved in that Friday night man/boy dogpile but in many hijinks on Saturday as well. Even with the addition of Landon, the stud Marine, there weren't enough men to satisfy the insatiable boys in the Peake house.  The Saturday night gangbang had been great, but that had only led to adventures in Founder's Park on Sunday. 

Once you give in and start fucking boys, they just crawl out of the woodwork, looking for hard, hairy adult cock.

See, during a break Saturday night, Landon and Chase had a chat on the back patio, drinking beer while mucous and cum from Jesse's rectum dried on the Chaser's cock.  Tristan, on his hands and knees, nursed on Landon's dribbling piss while Wolfsbane, tail wagging, stood with his butt pressed against Tristan's, whining and squinting into the dogfucked teen.  Chase told Landon about the action to be had at Founder's Park.  Young boys. Pre-pubescent. No hair.  Innocent eyes. Hunger for mancock. The Marine nearly drowned Tristan with his load.  So, after all the Ellicott Falls boys were freed from Sunday School,  drug dealer and Marine paid a visit to the Park, and the Marine found God in the mouth of an eight-year old boy with ice cream-stained lips.

So today Chase's cock definitely feels the mileage.  But, at seventeen, Chase is raring to go again. Though you might now guess that, given the shrinkage caused by his immersion in cold water.

Wolfsbane tears past, going flat out.  He leaps and snatches the Frisbee.  He also plunges into the river.  He emerges with the Frisbee in his mouth.  Wolfsbane shakes off, and then trots back towards the house.

"Heh," says Tristan, kneeling beside the wading pool.  "He likes to play."  Tristan wears old swim trunks that are snug in the crotch.  They don't conceal all of his buttcrack but, since he's a sleek, muscular fourteen year old boy and not a fat, hairy plumber, it's a mouthwatering sight.

Chase ruffles his brother's hair.  "You like playing with Wolfsbane, don't you?"

Tristan grins and blushes.

"When did you guys start?"

The blush grows deeper.  Tristan reaches out and takes the Frisbee from Wolfsbane.  Immediately the dog lunges, licking Tristan's face, seeking his lips.  Laughing the black-haired boy tumbles backwards.  Desperately he launches the Frisbee.  Wolfsbane races after it.

"Heh," says Tristan. "Couple of months ago."

"So how'd dance class go?" Chase says, palming his groin. His brother's skin is satin and smooth. He wonders if he fucks Tristan now, will he be getting sloppy seconds from Wolfsbane. The thought makes him hot.

Tristan shrugs.  "'Bout the same.  We got a recital next week.  You coming?"

"Your class going to be wearing tights?" Chase wriggles his eyebrows.

"Yeah." Tristan giggles.  "I'm trying to get them to let us dance with our shirts off!"

"Every man in town'll be there if you do that," says Chase.  "Is Dad home?"

"Nah.  He called, said he might be working late." He grins slyly. "He told me to tell you to look after Kevin." Giggling, he reaches into the water and cups his hand over his oldest brother's bulge.

"So where's Kevin?" Chase visualizes the eleven year old slut bent over their Dad's weight bench, Chase's ten inch cock opening the kid up.

"He's in Aaron's room."

"Aaron?" Chase finds this hard to believe. Aaron? A top?

Wolfsbane races up.  Tristan rises to his feet.  He takes the Frisbee and draws back to launch it.  Wolfsbane is having none of this. The dog bounds behind Tristan and leaps.  His teeth close on the waistband of Tristan's trunks.  Down they come to boy's knees.  Wolfsbane leaps again, knocking Tristan forward so his sweet young butt is raised high for penetration.  Tristan squeals with laughter.  Wolfsbane's red cock emerges as he pants and slavers.  Tristan scrambles away, desperately launching the Frisbee.  Wolfsbane barks his frustration and chases after the Frisbee. Tristan tugs his trunks up.

"Get a room," laughs Chase, ruffling Tristan's hair when the boy kneels next to the pool.

"It doesn't bother you?" asks Tristan. "Me and Wolfsbane?"

"We all got our kinks," says Chase. "Though I'm gonna start calling you Jesse and Wolfsbane Landon."

"I kinda want to move into his doghouse," says Tristan sheepishly. "Be like his boyfriend, you know?"

"Want some candy, little boy?" Chases phone suddenly asks in a nasty clown voice.

Chase is on the verge of asking Tristan to show how much he loves the family dog.  But business must take precedence over perversity. This ringtone is keyed to the phone numbers of his preferred customers.

"Want some candy, little boy?" the phone repeats.

Chase leans over and snatches up his phone.  "Peake's Greenhouse.  You got the urge, I got the herb."

"Is this Chase?"

"Bobby Dugger!" says Chase. "How's it hanging?" Chase grins at Tristan, who rises and chases after Wolfsbane.

"You got any?" Bobby is breathless.  "Please tell me you got some!"

"I got some, I got some," soothes Chase. "How much you need?"

"I got forty dollars.  I need whatever forty bucks'll get me!"

"All right," says Chase.  "Founder's Park?"

"No, no, I gotta have it right now!" Bobby whines like a sweet tender redneck boy after his first night in the black wing of Folsom Prison.  "The Park takes too long! I gotta get dressed, I gotta get Tyler in the truck.  Hell, man, just.... "Bobby breaks off, frustrated.

Tyler.  A slow smile spreads over Chase's face.  You know that evil smile.  I'm sure you smiled it yourself. Sweet Tyler with sweet lips.  Chase has been meeting the sexy young tyke in a thicket down by the river.  Smoking lessons. Every kid needs 'em if they're going to grow up right.  Chase thinks of that time when he and Tyler showed an audience of trailer park kids how a teen's meat cigar should be smoked.  When Tyler's friend Danny had stared awestruck at Chase's ten inch teen boner. Had licked his lips while Tyler, showing what a big boy he was becoming, inhaled Chase's thick white smoke.

"Here's what we'll do," says Chase.  "You're old woman don't want me down there.  My Dad don't want me dealing up here.  But Dad's out. So you send Tyler up to my house with forty bucks and I guarantee you you'll get some of my finest herb.  The good stuff.  I'll bump you up a couple of grades, Bobby, just because I think Tyler's a swell kid."

Silence.  Chase pictures Bobby swallowing as he struggles to decide. Which will win?  His need for weed, or hick virtue?

"OK," says Bobby.  "But just this once. We can't make this a regular thing.  Jesus! I don't want my son hauling dope for me!"

"Send him right now." Chase ends the call. He shifts his posture.  Water sloshes in the pool.  Blood flows to his cock.  Yeah, he tells it.  You're going back in action.

Wolfsbane and Tristan have been tearing about the back yard, Tristan throwing the Frisbee time and time again, and Wolfsbane, driven by an instinct he's coming to hate, changing targets from boy butt to goddamned Frisbee. 

Wolfsbane has had enough.  Tristan crouches, preparing to launch.  Wolfsbane darts round behind and leaps.  Once again his teeth snag Tristan's trunks.  This time they rip.  One part falls forward.  The other aft. Tristan has a brief moment to stare at Chase with a shocked, open-mouthed expression.  Then Wolfsbane knocks him to hands and knees and mounts, hips already pumping and tail wagging.

"Help!" cries Tristan, laughing. "Rape!"

"You can't rape the willing," Chase murmurs, standing.

Chase pries boy and dog apart before Wolfsbane lodges his knot inside.  Tristan looks with embarrassment at his older brother. "Guess I got him too horny, huh?"

Chase pats Tristan's smooth ass.  "Get a room, guys.  No fucking in the back yard."

"Come on, Wolfie!" cries Tristan, running towards the house.  "Let's go to my room and try and make some puppies!" He and the dog slip through the siding doors into Keith's room.

Chase settles back into the pool. Sleek, perverted thoughts with tiny round buns and moist pink lips dance in his head.

After a few minutes he hears a bicycle bell ringing from the driveway.  He bellows, "Tyler!  Come round back." He pulls down his underwear's waistband. Boys like pubes. Chase likes showing his off.

Tyler's bike clatters down the slope.  The boy cruises across the yard.  He brakes, dismounts, and lets the bike fall to the grass.  He runs towards Chase, shaggy chestnut hair shimmering in the afternoon sun.

Chase grins.  This is perfect. Tyler is shirtless and wears loose shorts that need constant up-tugging lest they fall and tempt men by exposing smooth innocent boybutt. Thank God for hicks, thinks Chase.

Tyler thrusts two twenties in Chase's face. "Here! Daddy said for you to give me those cigarettes right now!" The boy's sweaty and breathless.  Suddenly his eyes dart down.  He giggles.  "You ain't got no clothes on!"

Chase stands and stretches, displaying his taut teen body to the adoring boy.  His bulge in the sopping fabric is massive, even though he's not yet hard.  He grabs his underwear.  "See?  I'm not naked.  You're a naughty boy, Tyler, just to think about the Chaser being naked."

Tyler laughs.  "You're naughtier," he whispers.  "You keep showing your big meat cigar to all my buddies!"

"Well," says Chase, "they want to see it just as much as you." He leans down. "You ever shown them your little boy cigarette?"

Tyler blushes but says nothing.

"Come on," says Chase. "Your Dad's cigarettes are in my room. Let's go get them."

"You're taking me to your room?" says Tyler. "Wow." He feels special.  A big muscly teen, taking a scrawny little shrimp like him into his room? Maybe all those smoking lessons are paying off.

Chase leads Tyler across the yard. He struts with slow, languid steps.  He senses the kid's eyes on him.

Tyler suddenly bursts out laughing.  "Your underwear! It's falling off."

About time, kid, thinks Chase.  He turns round.  His ten inch throbber towers from his groin.  The waistband clings to his swollen balls. Tyler's eyes widen in wonder and awe. Big teen cock causes those emotions everywhere big teen cock is on display.

"Well," says Chase.  "You're my buddy so give me a hand. Put it back inside before they fall off and I get in trouble."  Keeping his phone in his right hand he shifts his wallet to his left.  "See? My hands are full."

Eagerly Tyler seizes Chase's cock.  For a few seconds the tyke holds Chase's fuckshaft steady, gazing at it as if it were a shadow from his future projected back into his present.  Then he wrestles it back inside Chase's loose Jockeys and tugs the waistband over it. He strokes Chase's damp pubic hair then pats the bulge. "All done!" he says, and gazes up at the teen.

Chase ruffles Tyler's hair.  "Good job, buddy."

When Chase slides the door shut behind them he sees Tyler's nose wrinkling.  "What's that smell?"

This is Keith Peake's room so, as you'd expect, it smells like forty five or fifty gallons of cum have dried somewhere in here.  The powerful smell of mansweat wafts from the weight bench. Intermingled on the floor are discarded jockstraps and boy's underwear.

"It's my Dad's room," says Chase.  "And my brother Kevin's."

"Kevin sleeps with your Dad?" asks Tyler excitedly.

"Yep. In the same bed. Come on."

"Your cigar," says Tyler.  His eyes fix on Chase's groin. The underwear his slipped again.  Chase's cock is on full display and little Tyler can do nothing but admire that fat shaft.  The urethra. The pisshole, opening and closing like a yawning mouth. Without realizing it he licks his lips.

"Come on, Tyler, you know what to do!"

Tyler again tucks Chase's hardon down into his underwear.  It takes even longer this second time.  If his hands slide up and down Chase's shaft just a bit ... well, Tyler just pretends Chase didn't notice.  He knows boys aren't supposed to touch men.  His dad has told him that. His Dad has also told him never to smoke cigarettes, but big meat cigars are obviously OK.

"You need to get your Dad to buy you some new underwear!" admonishes Tyler.

"Sorry.  That happens to us guys sometimes." Chase feels like god. Shit.  He's got a nine year old totally fixated on his cock.

Chase leads Tyler upstairs.  The TV is on.  Gideon grins, winks, and palms his groin as teen and boy climb to the second floor.  There, Chase hears a squealing boy and a panting dog but the sound comes from behind a closed door.  Strangely, the sounds come from Jesse's room, not Tristan's. Does Landon need to know this? Chase grins.  He's sure the Marine'll be into it.

"Is this it?" asks Tyler, gazing around at the hall.

"No," says Chase. "Higher."

"How high?"

"Very high," grins Chase.  "It's the attic."

Tyler gasps with amazement when Chase pulls stairs down from the ceiling.  Tyler grins over his shoulder as he scampers up.  Chase follows, his eyes resting on Tyler's round butt.  That's his object.  That's what he wants.  The Holy Grail he wants to fill to overflowing with his seed. Chase dreams of penetrating the nine year old's anus and christen the sweet chamber with funky teenspunk. Curtis Yarnell bet Chase a hundred bucks, while they shared an eight year old in the private restroom in Founder's Park, that Chase would never bust that tiny cherry. Chase told his buddy to keep the money on hand, because he'd have to pay up. I wanna fuck kids, Chase told Curtis. I'm a pedophile. It's what I do.

Chase's room is the biggest in the house, except of course for Keith's basement pad.  It reeks of pot.  It is classic drugged-out teenage space.  Psychedelic posters hang on unfinished drywall. If Chase had shut off the regular light and turned on the black light those posters would've glowed like a lurid trip.  There are other posters. Fast cars, kitted out, gleaming like jewels, usually with hot babes draped over the hood because you can't find posters with hot middle school boys lounging against bumpers.  Other posters show surfers cruising down the curving surface of waves. Amorphous wax rises and sinks in lava lamps.

"Is all this yours?" gasps Tyler.

"All of it," says Chase.  Chase sets phone and wallet on his desk and picks up his keys.  He unlocks his filing cabinet.  He obtained the filing cabinet through an adventure too convoluted to be believed. Getting it into his room had been equally convoluted. He opens the top drawer. He glances at Tyler.  The kid's eyes remain fixed on Chase's bulging underwear. Chase nods to himself.

The teen, feeling generous, fishes out a quarter ounce baggie full of the good stuff he sells to his Dad and other well-to-do stoners.  He sets the baggie on his desk.  "This is for your Dad," Chase says.

"He said cigarettes!"

Chase, as I'm sure you know, wouldn't feel so generous if those sweet bubblegum lips hadn't been so close to his hardon.  Thoughts of what's about to happen make him uncommonly kind. He fishes out four pre-rolled joints, part of his own personal stash.  He locates an old, empty Camel cigarette pack and stuffs baggie and joints inside. Can't send a nine year old home with marijuana naked in his hand. Even the dullest cop would notice that.

As Chase works Tyler decides to pull open the lowest drawer.  Are there cigars in here? he wonders. No.  It is filled with black conical objects. A musky scent rises from the plastic cones.  A delicious tingle runs through his body. He senses naughtiness. "What are these?" he breathes.

"Buttplugs," says Chase nonchalantly. He hadn't planned this but is a flow he'll go with.

"What do you do with them?"

"I stick 'em in my butthole."  Chase rummages through his collection.  He pulls out his favorite.  The Jolly Black Giant.  The buttplug flares wider than his balled fist and only tapers down to a rounded point thick as his wrist. "Can you believe I can get this up my butthole?"

Tyler's eyes shine with wonder.  All this is far beyond the boy's conscious comprehension, but even at nine his body yearns for sex.  Tyler tugs at his crotch. Instinctively he knows this ... buttplug, what a weird word ... is something nasty. Like smoking big meat cigars. He likes the nasty feelings Chase gives him.

Chase pulls out the buttplug he's named Mini Me.  Not much longer or wider than his forefinger. "I bet you could get this up your butt."

Tyler laughs at such a silly thought. Looking at Mini Me he wriggles a bit, as if a phantom hand caresses him. He tugs again at his groin.  His wiener spikes his shorts.

The spike doesn't escape Chase's notice.  He pats the kid's crotch. Tyler leaps.

"You're not supposed to touch me there!" Tyler says. He's not angry. He sounds rather like an old cassette tape player regurgitating an old tune.  Poor kid.  He's still entrapped in that conflict between the outer world's lies and his inner world's kinky truth.

"Did it feel good?" croons Chase.

"Well, yeah, but you still ain't supposed to touch my wiener!"

"Can I touch you here?" asks Chase, caressing the boy's lips.

"Well, yeah, that's OK. That's how I smoke you!"

"You ought to let men touch you anywhere they want," says Chase. "They can make you feel good."

"My Daddy touches me a lot!"

Chase replaces Mini Me in the cabinet.  The teen's ten inch hardon is all Tyler wants to look at. The ten inch hardon is all Chase wants Tyler to think about. Chase's will prevails. The wonders of a teenaged stud's private room no longer entice Tyler at all.  All the boy can think of is...

"Can I smoke your cigar?" Tyler asks.

Chase shrugs. "I don't know, Tyler.  Your Dad sounded like he wanted you to go right home."

"Please! I haven't smoked for days!"

Chase pats his cock.  "All right, then.  But only if you promise to do what I ask."

Tyler licks his lips.  "Anything!"

Chase grins an evil grin.  A feeling of power surges through him. This is gonna be fun.  "First you gotta pull down my underwear."

"All the way?"

"All the way."

Clumsily Tyler tugs Chase's wet Jockeys to the floor. The kid gasps in awe as the giant organ sways above his face.  Delight twinkles in his eyes. He reaches to take the giant organ in hand --

Chase stops him.  "Not so fast.  Not so fast. I want you to do something for me."

"What?" Tyler cries, frustrated.

Chase, turning, pats his left buttock.  "Kiss my butt. Right here."

No hesitation.  Tyler plants a brief peck on Chase's round muscle. "How was that?"

"That sucked. Come on, do it the way your Daddy kisses your Mommy!"

Tyler doesn't quite know how to kiss ass just yet.  He tries again. He senses that he should plaster his lips and slither his tongue on Chase's buttock.  Tyler moans, imitating the sound his Daddy makes when alone in the bedroom with Mommy, and he laves the skin with his tongue.  Chase tastes like chicken.

Chase reaches round and guides Tyler's face around his buttock.  "Kiss it all over, buddy." Grinning he pushes the kid towards his crack.  Tyler yanks away.

"That's nasty!" the nine year old cries.

Chase lets the boy escape this time. He taps his right buttock.  "Now this one. Come on, Tyler! If you wanna suck my ... if you wanna smoke my cigar you gotta kiss my ass."

Tyler giggles. He likes hearing dirty words. He performs the ritual on Chase's right buttcheek.  Again he breaks away when the teen guides him towards his crack.

"Can I smoke you now?" Tyler whines.

"You've not done everything I want," says Chase. He's enjoying this.  He has power.  He's a strutting, arrogant, big-cocked teen god to this little kid. This must be like being a Dad. He looks over his shoulder, down at Tyler, the boy's face four inches from Chase's ass.  "Tyler, let me ask you something.  Have you ever seen a man's butthole?"

Tyler's eyes go round. "No." He sounds nervous.

"Let me show you mine." Chase pulls his buttcheeks apart and bends forward. As you'd expect, Chase's hole has seen an immense amount of action. Being Keith's eldest he was the target of his Dad's frenzy when that man at last broke through the taboo and began fucking his own son. Chase remembers the weekend when he turned thirteen. He never left his Dad's bed, nor did Keith's cock ever seem to leave his butthole.

Make no mistake. Chase has a pretty butthole, even if it's wide. Chase is a teen, with a trim body, so Tyler's not looking at some sloppy pussy.  Tyler's looking at an organ with a huge hunger and an unimagined capacity.

"Looks funny," says Tyler.

"I want you to kiss me there," murmurs Chase.  "On my butthole."

"That's nasty!" Tyler's nose wrinkles with disgust.

"No it isn't," grins Chase.  "You saw me in the pool.  It cleaned all the nasty stuff off."

"No!"

"If you don't lick my butthole," Chase warns, "I won't give your Daddy his w-- his cigarettes." Chase's guts crawl with anticipation and a teardrop of precum forms on his cockhead.

Tyler heaves a huge sigh. "Fine!" He plunges his face forward.  At first he resolves not to breath.  But a stray whiff of teen butt forces its way into his nostrils. Suddenly buttlicking doesn't seem so icky.  Tyler's pink lips open.  His tongue slathers Chase's butthole with warm spit. He feels the corrugated pucker.  He begins to probe. It's nice! The nasty feelings surge through him.

Chase shudders.  "Oh, that's very good, Tyler." He pushes his butt back, opening his buttcheeks wider, and relaxes his hole.  He chortles!  The kids tongue has slipped inside. "Yeah, lick up in there, Tyler."

It was an amazing transition, but never underestimates the power of teenbutt. 

Tyler didn't stick his tongue up Chase's butthole.  The ring sucked him in, with a sensation just like what you feel when you put your palm over the end of a vacuum cleaner's hose.  It doesn't taste at all bad up there.  Orangey. Kid lips seal the teen ring.  Little puffs of air from Tyler's nose tickle Chase's crack.

Tyler does a nasty thing and puts his hand down his shorts.  His little dick is stiff as a nail. He feels like he's got to pee.

Chase senses he could easily train Tyler to suck butt for hours.  Another item gets added to his long-term agenda. But a picture of poor Bobby Dugger, pacing up and down the small living room of his trailer, his hardon throbbing in his jeans, comes to mind. Chase reaches back and unfastens the nine year old from his butt. He turns around.

Tyler licks his lips.  Chase's cockhead is so close to the tip of Tyler's nose that his eyes cross when he looks at it.  "Can I smoke you? Puh-leeze!"

"Smoke my big meat cigar," growls Chase. His balls feel like they've got a pound of cum apiece in them.

At last!  Tyler goes at it with gusto.  The boy has always been more enthusiastic than talented.  But those surreptitious times he and Chase smoked down by the Buck River have increased his skills. He knows he has to grasp the big hardon with both hands otherwise the cigar will leap out of control.  He knows that if he starts licking in the cleft right below Chase's pisshole, then teases the pisshole itself, then circles round the steamy tender cockhead, his tongue darting like a nervous guppy, then Chase will make loud noises and tell Tyler's he's a god little boy. He knows that Chase moans and growls when Tyler's tongue worships the head signify approval.

"That's right," coos Chase, sighing.  His fingers trail through the nine year old's hair.  "Smoke my cigar!" He's got a big nut coming.  Even after the intense weekend fuckathon Chase is ready to breed.

Suddenly an idea occurs.  A fucking kinky idea. Chase laughs when he thinks of it. He leans over and pulls from the filing cabinet drawer a tall, half-used bottle of lube.  He pours a good amount on his fingers.  He smears his butthole and the asscheek around it.  A second dollop he pushes up inside. A third follows.

Tyler watches Chase anoint himself with the lube but he says nothing. Just keeps on licking, his velvet lips sliding down Chase's urethra till big teen balls press against his cheek. Tyler's used to adults doing weird things. Tyler is happily kissing Chase's cockhead, doing everything the teen had taught him, when a new demand startles him.

"Hey Tyler," says Chase.  "You like my c-- ...uh, smoke, right?"

The boy nods while he slobbers on Chase's meat.

"You wanna help me make a lot more smoke?"

Tyler nods eagerly.  He loves inhaling the smoke Chase's cigar puts out. It makes him feel grown up.

"I can make more smoke if you stick your finger up my butt."

Really? The thought makes Tyler want to pee.  Pee hard. Pee long.  Pee forever. "But I'd have to let go of your cigar," says Tyler.  "I couldn’t smoke it unless I had both my hands on it!"

Chase grins. "I'll help you out, buddy.  I know you want my smoke. And I wanna give you every drop of smoke I make." He takes his cock at the base.  "OK, buddy, I got it. Go ahead. Stick your finger up me."

Tyler fastens his lips to Chase's cockhead. He probes the slippery ring with his tiny forefinger.  Even before he decides to shove it in the suction up there draws the boy's digit within.  He giggles.  This is nasty! And it's a good idea.  That stuff leaking from Chase's cigar immediately gets thicker, and there's a lot more of it.

"How about another finger, Tyler?" asks Chase. He can't feel much of anything. He kicks his legs apart, inviting more of Tyler inside.

Tyler jams a second finger up there.

Chase grunts. "That's good.  Now move them up and down.  Don't pull them all the way out." Chase's head rolls back as the tyke fingerfucks him. This is living. He can't wait to train his own son to perform this service. He pulls from the cigarette pack one of the joints he's intended as a bonus for Bobby.  A thank you for the great blow jobs his young son gave.  Chase lights up and puffs away. If you're Chase Peake you can never be too stoned.

Tyler mouths the great cock, trying to open his mouth wide enough to get the fat head in.  But he's nine.  He just can't do it, not with an organ like the Peake teen sports.  But he wants to.  He's seen plenty of cigars in movies and at least the end is always in someone's mouth. Sighting down the shaft Tyler sees the curling thatch of pubic hair, beckoning him towards something that he senses must lie in his future. He scissors his fingers, grinning when Chase jumps.  It feels squish up there, and as his fingers work he hears a sound like a dog licking himself.

Exhaling a huge cloud of smoke, Chase says, "Hey, buddy.  Put another one up me."  He sighs when it slides in.  He begins to squat down, making Tyler's thrusts more forceful. "I like that." He groans. "You're gonna see me make a lot of smoke, Tyler."

"I know," giggles Tyler around a mouthful of cock.  "You always make a lot!"

"You know how I can make more?" says Chase, now panting. Both his sex organs are now in use. The thing about his butthole is ... the more it gets stimulated, the more it needs.

"Yeah! Another finger!"

Chase ruffles the kid's hair affectionately.  "Slide it in, little buddy."

Of course, even with four fingers penetrating Chase's ring, the muscle's not being stretched very much.  We're barely exceeded the Mini Me range here.  Obviously Chase's prostate is being teased. But more is still needed.

"Hey, Tyler," murmurs Chase.  "One more thing and I'll give you more smoke than I've ever given you."

Tyler looks up, eyes moist, nursing at the cockhead.  Chase demonstrates.  Sucking on the joint, he holds up one hand.  He bunches four fingers together, just the way Tyler has them right now as he saws away at Chase's hungry ring.  Chase then lays his thumb alongside the other four, forming a cone rather like the buttplugs standing at attention in the filing cabinet.

Tyler quickly does as indicated. We're not in the Jolly Black Giant range here. Much closer to the famous footlong Peake daddycock.

"Now push up, Tyler.  Push really hard." Chase sighs.  His eyes flutter.  Chase feels the mass sliding up and up. Tyler's hand slides into the teen's rectum.  Easy peasy.

Tyler's hand has begun to tingle, just like his little dick.  It feels as if he's slipped on a hot, wet, slimy glove.  It ought to feel icky but Tyler likes it.  Chase's butt sucks Tyler's arm deeper and deeper. He feels Chase's heart thudding and a huge bulge like an orange sliding against his wrist as Chase rises and falls on his hand.

"OK, little buddy.  Now make a fist!"

Tyler clenches. His bicep bulges.

Chase is in hog heaven.  He's just taught a kid how too fistfuck. He's sure this is a first in human history. Betcha can't top this, Caligula! This is got to be one of the sickest, most perverted things ever done.  Chase would bet that not even a Roman Catholic priest could invent something so perverted. He rides Tyler's fist, sinking ever deeper on it. Cum boils in his balls.

"Now move your fist, little buddy," grunts Chase, demonstrating.  "Like this!"

Laughing round Chase's cockhead, Tyler fistfucks the teen. It's the big blond drug dealer's reactions that fascinate the boy.  How the eyes close.  How the face goes slack, and then twists into a grin.  How the room begins to smell as sweat blossoms in Chase's armpits.

Meteoric glory is coming on quickly.  Chase's nipples rise up into spikes.  He feels his balls going tight. "It won't be long now, Tyler," he moans. "You're a good boy.  You keep this up."

Heavy feet begin climbing the ladder. Chase glances down.  Tyler still nurses. He looks at the cutout where the attic stairs fold up.  He grins.  Fuck yeah! He's gotta show off. He eases himself and Tyler so they're in profile.

The first thing Keith Peake sees is his naked son sporting a giant hardon. Not at all an unusual sight in this house. The kid blowing him makes even him, an experienced, devoted pedophile, catch his breath. Fuck! How old is that kid? He's younger than Seth!

"Look at me, Dad!" Chase calls. "I'm molesting a nine year old!"

"Is he --?" Keith stops. He peers. He grins. "Is that kid fistfucking you?"

Tyler freezes, turns his head, though his lips never leave the cockhead. He sort of expects the man -- Chase's Dad -- to be outraged, roaring and screaming. But the sly smile on the big man's face reassures him.  He'd waved but his hands are busy.

"Yep," says Chase. "He's fistfucking me!"

This is too much for Tyler. "You said a dirty word!"

"Sorry, buddy. Keep sucking my ... I mean, keep on smoking." Chase soothes Tyler, stroking the boy's head.

"I thought I told you," says Keith, pushing back his baseball cap, "to do stuff like this down in Founder's Park"

"Come on, Dad," says Chase. "You gotta strike when the iron's hot. Besides, Dad, I just couldn't resist.  Look how sexy he is!" Chase bends over and lasciviously caresses Tyler's butt.

Keith folds his arm, looking at his son. "I knew you were a pervert, son. I just didn't how damn perverted you are."

"Just a couple years more perverted than you, Dad!"

Tyler, suckling on the shaft, glances back and forth between the teen he's bent on draining of smoke, and the tall, broad-shouldered man, dressed in snug shorts and tight tee shirt.  The man who's obviously master here.  Tyler feels a sudden urge to craw over to the man, pull down his zipper, and smoke his meat cigar too.  It must be fucking huge! Chase can wait.

"What's your name, kid?" asks Keith.

"Tyler."  He licks precum off his lips.

"What are you doing with my son, Tyler?"

"I'm learning how to smoke his cigar," says Tyler meekly. Spittle hangs between his lips and Chase's cock.

"He's a quick learner, Dad." Chase's eyes drop to Keith's crotch. "He's good at it." When his Dad says nothing, Chase passes the joint to Keith.  "Come on, Tyler.  Let's get you nice and smoky!" He looks at Keith.  "Watch, Dad.  Watch.  I told you I liked 'em young.  Real young."  He grins.  "You ought to try a young one, Dad." He leers. "Give in to your dark side."

Keith tokes on the joint.  He never felt anger at Chase for violating his rules. He feels an urgent sensation in his balls.  He recognizes it.  It's the same sensation he felt the first time he ever looked at a twelve year old's ass and visualized his cock fully embedded.  "Go ahead, Tyler.  Show me how you ... smoke."

Slightly embarrassed -- Tyler's never smoked in front of an adult-- resumes work on Chase's teen schlong. Precum and spit dribble down the shaft. 

"Move your fist up and down ... like that, Tyler, yeah." Chase groans.

Keith, grinning, leans over and pulls apart Chase's cheeks.  "You can get more up there, Tyler."

Really? Tyler stuffs more arm into Chase's rectum, almost all the way up to his elbow. 

Chase's eyes flutter. "Oh fuck yeah, Tyler."

The dirty word goes unnoticed. Tyler feels good.   He feels like he controls the blond teen.  Like maybe he can get the teen to take his pants down anytime and let Tyler smoke that big meat cigar and put his arm up his ass.  That would be cool! Tyler imagines Chase sprawling on Tyler's bed in the trailer, Tyler smoking furiously between his thighs, while Bobby Dugger groans in the next room.

Tyler's deep strokes send Chase flying.  He grins at his Dad.  "Hey, Dad ... you ever had a nine year old suck your cock?"

Keith is silent, watching with slit-like eyes his eldest son molest a nine year old.

 Keith is a very perverted man, as by this time you must've realized.  However, he still has his limits. Taboos. Things he won't do ... but will think about. He likes picturing Seth and his other young kids in their baths, for example.  Sheriff Lord has chided him last week for lingering near the CCBC locker room showers when the third graders cleaned off after volleyball.

It's a fact that, until Keith took Kevin's buttcherry, he'd never fucked a boy younger than twelve.  He gets off on boys right on the cusp of adolescence.  Right when their balls have dropped.  No pubic hair. Long legs and high, round butts. Right when those strange dreams start wafting through their nights. Right when they start to realize it feels really good to touch themselves in their nasty places. The only reason he fucked Kevin at eleven was, well, his son deserved it. Kevin has a hot ass.

But fantasies still cross Keith's mind. He doesn't jack off much these days but when he does he thinks of elementary schools and Little League games and youngsters with pert butts running along lake shores. He's looked at Seth and wondered.  An eleven year old son, and a ten year old son, sleeping in his bed.

And now ... this innocent nine year old, so naïve he thinks cocksucking is smoking a meat cigar?

Blood fills Keith's giant meat.

But a nine year old? Sucking his footlong daddycock?  Will he get off on that? Keith's always been an assman. Nothing hotter in the world than to look down and see some boy's ring, stretched the widest it's ever been stretched by Keith's boyfucker.

Keith thinks of Tyler's sweet virgin ass. He can see hints of those alabaster cheeks. The kid's shorts have pulled down. No. Impossible. Tyler's ass is far too tiny to take Keith's cock.  But that mouth?  Hell, the kid can't even take in Chase's cockhead.

"You're thinking about it, Dad," says Chase, grinning.  He reaches over.  Expertly he unfastens his Dad's fly.

"Damn, Chase," murmurs Keith. "What the hell are you getting me in to?"

But these words are a fig leaf. The cum boils like lava in Keith's balls.  Come on, let's get nasty.

Tyler glances over just in time to see Keith's erection smack against his belly.  His jaw drops.

"Golly!" He stares at it, mesmerized.  How can anything be bigger than Chase's cigar?

"Come on, Tyler," says Chase, guiding the kid's lips back to hit meat.  "I wanna make my smoke."

Keith says quietly, "Yeah, Tyler. Get my son's smoke in your mouth.  I wanna see it. Betcha you can't do it."

With soaring heartbeat, Keith watches the obscene show.  Way underage kid.  Betcha he doesn't even have sexy dreams.  Nine years old is ... third grade? Seriously.  Tomorrow Tyler's going to be running around the playground, playing kickball, burping up Chase's sperm.  What a hot thought.

Chase throws his head back, folding his arms behind his head. "Yeah, Tyler," he croons. "Smoke me!"

The sex draws Keith in. He shoves his meat towards Tyler.  Look at it, kid.  Look at my big hairy cock. Power surges through him.  He clenches his fists.

"Come on, Chase," he growls. "Show your Daddy how you cum!"

Now this is the way to come home from work.

"Yeah, Chase," says Keith. "You're a sick fuck. Just like your Daddy."

Chase can't take it anymore.  He grasps Tyler's head and stuffs as much of his fat cock between those swollen lips.  "Smoke me, boy!"

Tyler chortles.  He knows what this means.  His tongue forms a groove between Chase's pisshole and his throat.

"Fuck!" bellows Chase.

"Hose him down, son!"

You'd think a blast like the teen fired would take off the bad of Tyler's head. It almost drowns the tyke.  What Tyler can't swallow from Chase's torrent -- and he swallows a lot; he's gotten much better with practice -- pours down his chin. He looks as if someone's doused him with a bucket full of slimy potent teenspunk.  Chase, barking and grunting and way too overstimulated by Tyler's arm, staggers back while gouts of cum arc from his pisshole into the air.  His cock streams volley after volley of cum right into Tyler's face.  Enough splashes to sire half a billion sperm hungry boys. The kid laughs, closes his eyes, his tongue darting here and there, seeking sperm as if it were cotton candy.

Pride wells within Keith. He claps Chase on his shoulder while the teen still shoots. "Good job, son. You're gonna make a fine Daddy."

When Chase finishes shooting, sperm glistens everywhere.  The curly bangs of Tyler's hair.  His face and jaw.  His neck and chest. Spunk, thick as glue, clings to the boy like a lover.

Chase, wincing, says, "OK, Tyler, take your arm out of my ass."

Tyler, a novice to fisting, tries to yank his arm free.  The rapid movement causes Chase to clench his anus, trapping Tyler's hand. 

"I'm stuck! I'm stuck!" hollers Tyler.  He's afraid he'll have to go home like this, leading a naked Chase down to the trailer park. How will he explain this to his Dad? "Help me!" he begs Keith Peake with wide eyes.

Keith grasps Tyler's embedded arm. "Settle down there, Tyler. Gotta go easy. Ready, Chase?"

Squinting, Chase nods. He sighs deeply. The teen and the boy struggle to separate. Chase's anus is hungry and won't let go until Keith grasps Tyler's forearm and tweak's his son's nipple. With an obscene fart Tyler's hand reemerges.

"Thanks, mister!" says Tyler fervently.  "I thought I was stuck there forever!"

It's the way Tyler gazes up at Keith, adoring him, revering him, that causes Keith to realize that he really really really wants to see this boy's lips gobbling his shaft.  That he really really really wants to feel a nine year old's lips nuzzling him just the way an eleven year old's anus does. Keith, in short, wants to feel the thrill of shattering another taboo.

Chase sees the look on Keith's face. "All right, Dad!"

"Quiet, son." Keith preferred his giant shaft.  "You see that, Tyler?" he says. An evil smile spread over his face. 

"Yeah," says Tyler.

"What is it, Tyler?"

"It's ... your cigar, mister."

"Nah," says Keith is a low voice. "It's my cock."

Lightbulb. Tyler's heard the word. He knows it's nasty.

"Can you say cock?" Keith speaks like a cobra coaxing prey closer.

"Cock," Tyler says softly. It's a nice word. He looks crossly at Chase.  Why'd the teen make him call it a cigar?

Keith says, "Wanna suck my cock, kid?"

A blank look.  "Suck ... cock?"

"Smoke my Dad's cigar," explains Chase.  Still naked, his cock engorged, he kneels behind Tyler, enfolding the boy in his arms. "It's the same game we play. Just ... when you call a cigar a cock, it's a lot nastier. A lot more fun. Don't you like to have fun, Tyler?"

"Oh.  Sure, Mr. Peake I'll smoke it for you!"

Keith shakes his head.  "No, no.  Don't say that.  Ask me if you can suck my big daddycock."

Tyler sucks in a huge breath and bellows, "Can I suck your big daddycock?" The words roll off Tyler's tongue. Why do these stupid adults need to hear these words? Jeez they're retarded.

"You sure can, son."

Two small hands close on Keith's cock. They can't fit around his huge meat. But they hold it steady. Tyler leans forward, tongue extended.

Keith's fists clench. "Come on, boy, lick my cock!"

Contact. Nine year old tongue touches mancock. A teaspoon of precum falls from Keith's pisshole and splatters on Tyler's shin.

"Yeah, Dad," mutters Chase.  "Show him how to do it!"

There's not much Tyler can do except slurp on Keith's hairy cock as if it were a giant Popsicle.  Not as familiar with this cock, Tyler takes his time exploring it.  His little tongue swipes down Keith's urethra, feeling it pulse as precum drips from the pisshole into Tyler's hair.  It feels good when the man's giant balls throb against Tyler's cheek. The man's groin smells dark and sweaty, far more powerful than Chase's, and Tyler's little dick responds with a degree of hardness the boy's never experienced before.

Keith's daddymeat is huge. Even if its only two inches longer than Chase's shaft there's just something about a foot of hard babymaker. When on display it dominates everyone nearby. It demands respect. Worship. Adoration. Service. The sight of it makes boys instinctively go onto their knees and raise their asses high.

Chase, feeling neither warmth nor affection, kneels behind Tyler. He's given himself over to deviant lust. He grinds his cock against Tyler's shorts.  He watches the boy's lips flutter on the footlong cock. 

"You like it, Dad?" He parts Tyler's sweaty hair and licks the back of the kid's neck.

Keith mutters, "Damn right I do."  The sensation isn't much, Keith must admit, but the thought? "My own personal third grade cocksucker." The dirtiest words Keith has ever said. "That's what you are, kid."

With his forefinger Chase scrapes a good amount of sperm from Tyler's chest.  He slips his hands up Tyler's shorts, then into the kid's boxers.  Chase shakes his head.  Boxers!  On a nine year old.  Damn, why? Kids look far sexier running round the trailer park in Jockeys!  But for what Chase is up to boxers are perfect.  Tyler's legs are parted.  So it is easy for Chase to press his sperm-slick finger against Tyler's anus. Chase grins when the boy jumps.

"What are you doing?" Tyler asks, looking over his shoulder, a line of saliva connecting his lower lip with Keith's cock.

"Teaching you a new game," murmurs Chase, looking at his boyfriend -- yeah, Tyler's gonna be Chase's first real boyfriend -- with slitted eyes.  "It's called the fingerbang game." 

"You're not going to put your fist up there!" cries Tyler.

"No," murmurs Chase. He digs his finger in deep.  Shit, the kid's tight.  Tighter than Kevin.

"It burns," moans Tyler. It does. Just a little, thought, but the odd sensation frightens him. Mostly it feels nasty. And slick. He squirms a bit, trying to get more inside. Now he knows why Chase wanted his butt played with.

"Suck my cock," Keith orders, turning Tyler's face back where it belongs.  "It always helps ... when you play fingerbang ... to suck cock." He grins at Chase, and winks.  He knows what's on Chase's mind.  He'd like to watch it when it happens.  Maybe even get sloppy seconds.

It burns in Tyler's butthole, but Keith was right.  As Tyler nuzzles on the man's shaft the pain diminishes, and soon the nine year old is a squirming, giggling bundle, almost unable to keep his lips on Keith's shaft or his butthole impaled on Chase's finger.

"You like it, don't you?" mutters Chase. His renewed hardon pulsates against Tyler. "You like my finger molesting your butt?"

"I like it a lot!" Tyler hunches back. "Molest me harder!" Molest.  There was that word. He heard it in school. He heard it in daycare. Something he should never let happen. Why had they all lied to him about how horrible it was? It felt so good to be molested!

"Hold Dad's shaft," says Chase, guiding Tyler's hands into position, grinding his hardon into Tyler's soft buttocks. He's sorely tempted to ease down Tyler's shorts, pull the kid's butt into position, and attempt insertion.  He pictures Tyler turning his head in shock.  He pictures the tiny ring stretched obscenely.

"You know, Tyler," Chase says, "I can put my cock up your butt."

Tyler's eyes go wide. "I can't get something that big up my butt!" He giggles. "Just do me with your fingers!" Tyler loves Chase's finger.  "Stick another finger up me!" He laughs with delight when a second finger stretches him.

"You like my cock, Tyler?" growls Keith.

"Oh yes!" Tyler likes the taste of Mr. Peake's precum, guzzling it.  He works his arms, sliding his hands up and down the man's shaft. "Do you like how I suck your cock?"

"You're the best cocksucker in the third grade."

It's not the sensation; it's the perversion that brings Keith off.  A little nine year old boy, adoring his cock, while his blond drug dealer son humps the kid's butt and teaches him the fingerbang game. Keith growls, a sneer twisting his face. 

Keith roars, "Take Daddy's load, boy!"

Tyler swallows another mouthful of cum before the spurting mancock escapes his control.  Eyes wide, he watches the great shaft fire bolts of sizzling cum.  He feels them splatter on his face, in his hair, and on his chest.  He gets all warm and tingly and he squirms in Chase's embrace.  Suddenly the teen's fingers start stabbing at some spot inside his butt.  Some spot that makes Tyler feel like he's on fire, or maybe he's smoke rising into the sky. 

"What's happening?" he squeals. He feels so good! He wonders if Chase's cock can do the same thing as his fingers.

"You're cummin', Tyler," grunts Chase. The boy's ring squeezes so tight he's afraid it'll pinch off his fingers. "Yeah, Tyler, squeeze that butthole."  Goddamn he's gotta make this kid cum with his cock!

"Wowee!" squeals Tyler when the sensations die away. "Molest me again!"

"Shit," says Keith, looking down at his semen, coating Tyler. The boy stares up at him.

"Golly," says Tyler, "you sure make a lot of smoke."

"It's cum," says Keith.  "It's what makes babies.  And it makes boys like you feel really special when a man gives it to 'em." He winks.

"Want some candy, little boy?"

"Goddamn," says Chase.  He slips his fingers free and stands. "That's your Dad, Tyler. Clean up."

"With what?" cries Tyler, tugging his shorts into position?

"Here," says Keith, pulling off his shirt. "I'll wipe you up." He begins toweling semen off the kid.

Chase snatches his phone up. "Yeah?"

"Where's my weed?" whines Bobby. "Where's my boy?" Desperation is in his voice.  He's gotta have the magic herb. He's gotta get off. Poor guy.  Normality is so uncongenial to happiness.

"He's on his way.  I gave him, uh, some ice cream and get got a little messy.  Dad's cleaning him up right now."

"Jeez!" cries Bobby.  "That's nice of you, man, but Katelynn's gonna be home in a half hour! How'm I supposed to fuck her if I'm not stoned?"

"He'll be there," grins Chase, watching Tyler.  Keith Peake's shirt is sopping with combined father and son cum but Tyler is passably scrubbed.  The boy smells like an orgy, though.  Maybe Bobby will think that's from the weed. Tyler's hair is still matted when flying semen doused him.  "He's leaving now." Chase shuts Bobby off.

Keith claps Tyler on the shoulder.  "Let's get you home.  I'll drive you."

"Hey, buddy," says Chase, pitching Tyler the cigarette pack full of weed.

Tyler catches it. "What about my bike?"

"We'll get it.  Come on, sweetie.  I'll let you sit on my lap."  Keith grins at Chase. "I'll remind you about my rules on drug dealing when I get back, Chase." He follows Tyler down the stairs.

Chase falls back on his bed.  He reaches for his phone and dials.  "Hey, Curtis!  Guess what? I gotta new toy to share!" He lights up another joint. "Now.'Bout your sister ...  you didn't get her pregnant yet, did you?"

Sometime later, after playing with his friends -- and getting little Danny to smoke Tyler's cigarette -- Tyler returns to the trailer.  Very quietly, because he hears the bed in Mommy and Daddy's room squeaking. He creeps down the hall.  Through the door he hears his Dad, howling like a cat.  Mom is silent. The sound of his Dad's voice makes Tyler's dick get hard.

Just as soon as he shuts his bedroom door behind him Tyler shucks his shorts.  And his boxers.  He giggles.   It's naughty being naked in his room, and he really likes it.  It makes Mom mad when she catches him like this, but he won't see her again tonight.

Almost all of his Transformers find his wiener fascinating.  Every single one of them straddles it like a horse.  One of them, the naughtiest, even creeps down to take a look at Tyler's butthole.  When the naughty Transformer sticks his head inside, however, he reminds Tyler how sensitive the orifice is.  And how hungry it is.

There's no sperm around, even though his body still smells of Mr. Peake's and Chase's titanic loads.  But there is a small bottle of lotion in his nightstand drawer, and Tyler, a clever boy, realizes this'll work.  He greases up, maybe a little too enthusiastically.  Little globs of lotion decorate his butt.  The Transformer takes another look inside.  It feels much better but it's still not right.  It doesn't burn but it's really hungry. Tyler rummages through his toy box, examining and discarding item after item. 

There!  Success!

He lies back on his bed, holding a toy submarine.  Because of the rounded bow, just like Chase's cockhead if not so big, he knows it'll work.  He inserts it.  In it sinks.  One inch. It feels so much better than Chase's fingers. Two inches.  He's hungry for more.  Lots more. Three inches.  Too much! Tyler winces. He slips the submarine out just a bit. He feels empty. So back in it goes. This time three inches is OK but four inches? Wow.

Tyler chortles to himself, holding his feet over his head, watching his toes curl and listening to his Dad moan, sliding his submarine in and out of his butt. Now he's got something to do on Monday nights too.

The kinky adventures of Chatauqua County's
perverted dads and sexy ass sons
will continue in Episode XI
of Dads 'N' Lads