Date: Fri, 23 Oct 2020 19:52:15 +0000 (UTC) From: Boy Daddy Subject: BOY DADDY, Pt. 25 "Boy Daddy" -- Badgod69@yahoo.com The following is a work of fiction. It is not based on any real events or people. Shoot me an email -- I like hearing from readers. Please, consider donating to Nifty, and keep porn free. BOY DADDY, Part 25 One morning at work, a few weeks after us guys had roofied my wife Jenny, my work buddy and landlord Bob asked me to stop by his house after dinner because he wanted to ask me something. I told him I'd drop by at 8 pm. I wondered all day what it was he wanted to know. By now, there wasn't anything I held back from Bob. He was a great guy and helped us out in multiple ways since Sam and I had moved into the small house at the other end of his property. Bob and I fucked around on a few occasions. I'd let him suck my dick a few times and sometimes I'd fuck him. Sam even let Bob suck him off a couple of times. That evening, I left our house a few minutes before 8 pm and strolled through the wild and overgrown `garden' that separated our houses, breathing in the cool fragrance of autumn leaves and damp earth. Bob's house was a huge, old thing from the early 1900s. I never did bother to find out how he had acquired the property and its two homes, but it must have cost him an arm and a leg. As I mounted the short flight of steps onto the wide, covered, back porch, I could hear a burst of loud, male laughter from somewhere inside. This surprised me and piqued my interest a bit. I texted Bob to let him know I was at the back door and waited for him to come let me in. There was another sharp clap of laughter, so I texted again, and this time I saw Bob hurrying through the kitchen to open the door. "Hey, J.J.!" he boomed at me, clapping me on the shoulder with his big bear paw. Bob was basically deaf and needed to read lips in order to have a conversation. I looked directly at his bearded, beaming face and said, "Sounds like you got company; want me to come back later?" "No, no! Your timing's perfect. We were just breaking up, but I wanted to introduce you to the guys," he replied, gesturing me inside. I knew the layout of his house pretty well, at least the first floor, so I crossed the kitchen and made my way down the dimly lit hallway to the front living room and the sound of men's voices. Bob followed right behind me. When I walked into the room, a group of six guys of various ages looked at me in some surprise. Their conversation stopped immediately, and the room went quiet until Bob moved past me and broke the silence. "Guys, this is my buddy J.J. that I mentioned. He lives in the little house with his teenage son Sam, who just turned 17. They're both great guys and I trust them absolutely. You can, too." The men looked at Bob while he spoke to them, and then shifted back to me. There was something furtive, almost beaten, in their glances, and I noticed it was almost impossible to make eye contact with any of them for more than a couple of seconds. "J.J., this is Karl; Pete; Jesse; Waylon; Daniel; and Felipe," Bob continued as I shook hands with each in turn. The handshakes and intros seemed to loosen them up some, and I felt most of the tension drain from the room as the men continued preparing to leave and their conversations resumed. Waylon, a young guy who looked to be in his early 20s, turned to me and said, "Nice to meet you, J.J. I hope we see you again soon!" and smiled as he followed the crowd to the front door. I heard Bob say to one of them, "Let me know if you see anything interesting during the week, and I'll see you guys next Thursday!" There was more laughter and parting banter, and then I heard the heavy front door close and Bob walking back to the living room. When he came in, he raised his eyebrows as if to say, `Well, what do you think?', and I smiled at him quizzically. "Have a seat, buddy. Want something to drink?" he said, smiling broadly. "Yeah sure, whisky," I answered. Bob poured out three fingers for both of us and handed me my glass, then took his own to the sofa across from me and sat. "Who are those guys?" I asked, taking a swig from my glass. "Oh, they're good guys, all buddies of mine. Officially, we're a support group, and we get together every week or so." "For what?" I asked. "Mmm, socializing, drinking a few beers, telling stories, you know," he answered. "No, I mean a support group for what?" "Oh, we're all sex offenders; registered sex offenders," he said blithely, but with a twinkle in his eye. I almost choked. "What?! No way, dude!" I chuckled. "Are you puttin' me on?" He cocked an eyebrow and grinned broadly. "For reals, you're a sex offender? Why didn't you tell me before? And all those guys are, too?" Bob just raised his eyebrows again and nodded once. "Damn! That's wild; that's hella cool! Why'd you want me to meet `em?" I asked. Bob laughed. "Fellow travelers; common interests. I've mentioned you before, and they were eager to see you. I told them how good-looking you and Sam are," he chuckled. This was amazing. Sam and I had just recently discussed the possibility of trying to meet some offenders locally, just for a laugh. Now, Bob placed a group of them in our laps, all without our having to search them out. "What'd they all do? What kind of sex offenders?" I asked, my mind bursting with questions. "What'd YOU do?" Bob chuckled and shrugged, as though it was insignificant. "Oh, it was a long, long time ago in San Francisco, but I had picked up this street kid and his buddies, none of them over 15. They were hustling and needed money bad, so I offered to blow them for $20 each. We went to my car and I was working on the first kid when a patrol cop pulled up next to my car and busted us. We all had our pants shoved down around our ankles and our dicks out, so it was impossible to pretend we weren't doing anything. Anyway, I got arrested and charged with soliciting minors, lewd and lascivious behavior, aiding and abetting the delinquency of minors, and a bunch of other crap," he said. "Wow," I replied, seeing Bob in a whole new -- and impressive -- light. "Anyway, they booked me, blah blah blah, and then I had to register as a sex offender. Not too bad," he finished. "What about the other guys, what'd they do?" "Oh, a variety of things, nothing too exciting. Pretty run-of-the-mill stuff, really, but they're all great guys, once you get to know them," Bob explained. "A lot of fun." I had a raging boner by now, and the more we talked about these dudes, the hornier I was getting. "Could we introduce Sam to them, too? And Nick...and Leda?" "Whoa, hold your horses, bud!" Bob roared, laughing loudly and slapping his knee. "They'll all be happy to meet the kids, and it'll get their trust. So that's perfect!" I was so excited I could barely sit still. But Bob changed the subject and it calmed me down. "Something else," he said, getting up and moving to the bottle of whisky. "I've got a proposition for you and Sam that I think you'll both like," he continued, smiling paternally at me as he poured out another two fingers. "OK. What's up?" I asked, curious as to where this was going. He handed me my glass and then sighed contentedly as he sat and said, "You boys feel like moving? To a larger place?" "Hunh? Why, what's wrong? You evicting us?" I asked, suddenly worried. "No, no, no, no! Just the opposite. Would you guys like to live here? In this house?" That really came out of left field. I liked Bob a lot, but the idea of Sam and I living with him didn't appeal to me at all. "Uhhh...not really, dude. We like it just being the two of us, it works out really well," I said, hoping I wouldn't say something to hurt Bob's feelings. "No offense." Instead, he laughed. "I'm not asking you guys to be my roommates! No, no. I'm gonna be leaving the area in a day or two; I have no idea how long I'll be gone. Maybe a few weeks, maybe months. Possibly even longer. You'd have the house all to yourselves." My eyes had widened considerably. This was a surprise. "What's goin' on, why are you takin' off?" I asked. "My mother's still alive, though she's very old, and her health is failing pretty fast. My sister was taking care of her, but it's been really hard on her family. So, I volunteered to move into Mom's house to be her caregiver until she passes," he explained. "Oh, wow," I mumbled. "That's too bad. I'm sorry, man." "Thanks, I appreciate it. So. I don't want the house to sit empty for however long it's gonna be. You guys would live here rent-free; you'd be doing me a favor. And if you wanted to, you could even rent out the little house to somebody else and keep the rent for yourselves, make a little money into the bargain. Hell, if it looks like I'm gonna be away for a year or more, I'll just deed the entire property over to you guys and I'll probably just stay in Rhode Island. Whaddya think?" I was so stunned by his offer I couldn't speak for a few seconds. "I think that's the most amazing thing I've ever heard, that's what I think. Jesus, Bob, you are the best buddy I've ever fuckin' had! Yeah, of course, absolutely, that sounds awesome," I finally spouted. Bob was beaming his big, goofy smile at me. "That's great! Go talk it over with Sam, see how he feels about it. He may not be into the idea, who knows? But I feel better about the whole situation now, knowing that at least YOU think it's a go," he said. "Sam will be thrilled. I can't wait to tell him," I said, getting up and moving towards the kitchen. Bob laughed, and walked me to the back door, his burly arm across my shoulders. I gave him a bear hug before he closed the door behind me, and then I trotted back home to Sam, half-drunk and giddy. The second I walked inside I broke the news. "Sam! Guess what, bro? Bob just asked us to move into the big house!" I said. "What?! Awww, dude, I don't wanna live with Bob! I mean, he's great and all, but --" "No, no, Bob's moving and offered us his house! For free!" I shouted with excitement. Sam stared at me, not quite comprehending what I was saying. I barely understood it myself. "Bro, listen, Bob has to go take care of his sick mother back in Rhode Island, and he asked me if we'd move in while he's gone. And he said we can rent out this place and keep the rent money, if we want!" A broad smile split Sam's face. "How long would we live there?" he asked. "I don't know, maybe for good! He told me he may just sign everything over to us if he decides to stay in Rhode Island," I replied, stunned by what I was saying. "Jesus," Sam mumbled, his eyes like saucers. "He must really, really like you." I laughed. "Bro, he adores me. You, too. He thinks we're the shit." Sam guffawed. "But that's not all, listen to this! When I got there, he had a group of guys, six of `em, in the living room and he introduced me as they were leaving. When they were gone, he told me they're all sex offenders, bro; registered sex offenders!" I barked. "Can you believe it?! We were just talking about this the other night!" Sam had leaned forward, his face alive with wonder and delight. "Are you shitting me?!" he asked, breathlessly. "Dude, I am so totally not shitting you! Seriously! Bob knows a bunch of registered pervs; he's one himself, bro!" I was almost shrieking with excitement. "No fucking way! Oh, my god, this is so fucking weird! We were just talking about this!" Sam squealed. "I know, I know, can you believe it?!" I squealed back. We roared with laughter, realizing that we sounded like 12-year old girls. "Dude, what're they like? Do they look crazy or creepy or what? What'd they all do, do you know? How old are they all? What'd Bob do?" Sam was beside himself, and the questions rattled out of him like gunfire. I told him everything I knew, which really wasn't much. It only stoked his appetite for more information, as it did mine in the retelling. He was bouncing up and down on his toes, his body taut with excitement. "Dude, this is too perfect! I can't believe it! We're gonna hang out with real sex offenders, REGISTERED sex offenders, dude! Damn, I wanna be a registered sex offender, that'd be so awesome!" I laughed my ass off when he said that. My son was such a goofball sometimes. "Bro, you don't wanna be a registered sex offender, dude! The label follows you forever, you'd have to let the cops know where you are all the time, all sorts of bad shit can happen," I told him, chuckling at his enthusiasm. But I also kind of knew what he meant. The idea was sort of thrilling in its perversity, something I could see Sam and I secretly taking pride in, bearing the label of `sex offender' with macho, transgressive glee. "I don't care! I'd like everyone to know I'm in their midst, that I'll fuck whoever I want, like it or not, no matter what! I'd fuckin' OFFEND all of `em, dude, that's what gets me off!" Sam said, then roared with laughter. We were like little boys on Christmas Eve, full to bursting with trembling anticipation, wondering what the morrow would bring us as visions of perverts danced in our heads. Neither of us got much sleep that night. We were too amped-up with excitement. The next day at work during our lunch break, Bob and I discussed our move and made plans. He was leaving for Rhode Island in two days. We had to move fast. "Dude, Sam can barely stay in his skin he's so excited about meeting your buddies. I am, too. Think we could introduce him to them before you leave?" I asked him. "Sure. How about tomorrow evening, say 7 o'clock? I'll contact the guys and let them know." "OK, that's awesome! We'll be there," I replied. Our lunch break ended, and we went back to our work-stations. The following evening, Sam and I knocked on Bob's back door at 7 p.m. Sam was pumped for his introduction to real live RSOs (as we'd taken to calling them), and his excitement was contagious. Once we'd entered the living room where Bob and his buddies had gathered, the attention of one and all turned to Sam and me. I could tell that Sam was nervous, but the appreciative gazes we were getting trumped whatever unease he was feeling. I could feel him physically relax next to me and his breathing got slower and deeper. "Wow, you guys could be brothers!" a few of the guys told us, a refrain we were used to hearing. Waylon, the younger guy who had welcomed me the night I first met the group, said, "Two fine-lookin' guys...and, J.J., it's hard to believe you're his father, man. You look so young!" Now that I had another chance to hear him speak, I realized that Waylon had a slight Southern twang. It suited him. We chuckled, suddenly a bit embarrassed. "Well, I was a boy daddy," I volunteered, "I was only 12 when Sam was born." Whoops and laughter erupted from the guys when they heard that. Faces lit up and eyes sparkled. "Ohhh, you dirty dog! You were a horny little fucker, huh?" a guy named Daniel said. He was the oldest of the men. We had all sat down by this point, and Bob handed Sam and I each a glass of whisky. The other guys drained their glasses as Bob refilled them. "Oh definitely I was, hell yeah," I snickered. "Then we had another kid when I was 14 and one more at 16. Their mom was 15 when we had him," I added, nodding at Sam. There were some appreciative murmurs and chuckles from the group, a warm and happy sound; welcoming. "Did you rape her?" a heavily-muscled, 40-ish man named Jesse asked, a lewd smile revealing wolfish-looking teeth. "No, no, not at all. In fact, she'd been trying to get me to fuck her since I was 10. We started fooling around when I was 9 and she was 12. She'd suck my dick, taught me how to eat her pussy, all the usual stuff." "A real little whore," a beefy, 40-ish Mexican guy named Felipe said. "Buena puta!" Sam and I snickered and gave each other a look. Waylon said, "Bob says you and Sam are shacked-up. What's that all about?" Another guy, Peter, added, "You queer for each other or what?" "Yeah, you daddy's little bitch?" asked a middle-aged fat man named Karl, a smile playing at the corners of his flabby lips. Everybody snickered, including me and Sam. "We're both straight, but yeah, we ARE totally queer for each other!" I chuckled good-naturedly. "But only for each other. We've been goin' at it since Sam was a little guy; I trained him." Finally, Sam spoke up. I was beginning to doubt he'd ever say anything. "We started jerkin'-off together when I was real little, like maybe three or four," Sam said, "And then we started fucking when I was 15. My younger brother and sister, too, we all fuck around together," he volunteered. "But yeah, mostly, it's me and J.J., totally. Always will be." A rumbling murmur of wonder filled the room, some heads nodding in approval, bodies shifting with mild curiosity or profound interest. "Wanna give us a little demonstration?" asked Bob, a knowing and encouraging gleam in his eyes. "Like, a sample? Right here, right now?" Sam chirped. "Sure! Hell yeah!" He didn't bother checking with me because he knew he didn't need to. Pretty much any chance we got to fuck around in front of an audience we leapt at. And this was special, something we both privately regarded as an honor, an audition, maybe even a Command Performance. Sam had always had a broad exhibitionist streak in him, even when he was a little boy, and I had always heartily encouraged him to indulge it. He whipped off his tank-top and shoved his Adidas sweat shorts down to his knees, exposing his already-throbbing cock to the room. His splayed crotch looked magnificent, a tropical jungle of dark hair. I decided to play the audience a bit before exposing myself, so I groped and rubbed the front of my sweats. In seconds, dark pre-cum marks streaked and dotted the fabric. I reached over to Sam and grabbed his heavy balls in my hand, gently squeezing and stroking them. Sam moaned and thrust his hips forward a bit. I released his nuts and reached back to his asshole, sliding a finger up him and making him grunt. "Wanna see me suck my dick?" Sam taunted the group. They did, very much so. As Sam kicked his shorts off, then scrunched down on the sofa and got himself into position, I quickly got out of my shorts and t-shirt, my hard, dripping prick slapping my taut belly with a wet slap. We both still had our dirty white socks on, but they were fairly fresh and didn't stink the place up. But our sweat scent was strong and potent, and it seemed to send a charge though the men. I leaned back into the sofa, Sam beside me. I watched him bring his legs behind his head, crossing his ankles, his hairy crack and hole on full display to the guys. I couldn't help but smile proudly, and as I turned to look at our audience, I saw that they were smiling broadly, too. A few of them were surreptitiously masturbating through their pants, but Waylon had shoved his jeans past his knees and was displaying his fine cock to anyone and everyone as he stroked it like a pro. I liked Waylon. When I looked back to Sam, he was already bobbing his head as he sucked his dick. The guys started making reactive sounds -- chuckling, gasping, lewd comments, heavy breathing. I moved to kneel on the floor in front of Sam and started sniffing and licking his teenage-ripe asshole, making him whimper and moan. The deeper I went, the faster Sam sucked. Leaning back, I replaced my tongue with first one, then two, then three fingers, licking each one in turn as I slid them into his silky chute. Sam spat his cock out and slurred in a loud, raspy voice, "Suck it, motherfucker! Make me feel like I have to take a shit!" The men laughed nastily, and a slew of filthy comments spewed out of them. My prick jerked uncontrollably several times from the thrill of exciting all these registered perverts. I glued my mouth to Sam's shithole and sucked like a vacuum cleaner, alternating with some deep tongue-fucking. "Your faggot ass is so fuckin' tasty, l'il bitch, you fuckin' cocksucker," I panted, knowing it'd get a strong reaction from both Sam and the guys. A rising tide of male voices filled the room, a sound of simmering fury and desire. "Shut your fuckin' child molester trap and suck on my shithole again, ya fuckin' freak!" Sam shouted crazily. I bit his fuzzy ass cheeks hard before locking my lips over his anus again, growling and burrowing like a dog in heat. I heard movement behind me, and out of the corner of my eye I could see a few of the guys start to cluster around us for a better view. "Oh, fuck yeah, dude, you fuckin' adore my ass, don'cha? Filthy fuckin' pig...you love gettin' the stink of my ass all over your face so you can pretend you got it buried in my ripe hole all night long, huh? You fuckin' dream about eating my shithole, admit it, you fuckin' degenerate!" Sam babbled, then hungrily gobbled down his hard cock again. I reamed my son good for another minute or so, then leaned back again and hocked a wad of spit directly onto his sloppy asshole. I stood up and stroked my ramrod-hard cock a few times, lubing up with more saliva, then leaned forward and propped myself up with my hands on the back of the sofa. With Sam still sucking his dick below me, I glanced down and aimed my pulsing cock at his slimy hole, then pushed my hips forward. Sam let out a deep roar in his throat and chest but wouldn't let go of the lip-lock he had on his prick. As the swollen, purple head of my cock relentlessly stretched his anus, a few of the guys watching us closely made odd whimpering noises as Sam moaned in agony, my engorged prick rampaging up his ass. "Awww, helll yeahhh..." I murmured breathily as Sam's insides suddenly enveloped my throbbing cock in their moist warmth, grabbing and carressing my prick like a depraved lover hungry for a beating. Sam let go of his mouthful of dick again to fling more filthy comments at me. He knew how to play me like a violin. "You're fuckin' my ass just like you did the first time you raped me, Dad! Owww, FUCK!" he hollered as I punched into his guts, hard. "Yeah, you little bitch, I raped your ass good way back then! I used you like the fuckin' baby whore you were, boy! You couldn't get enough of my dick! How old were you, anyway? I don't even fuckin' remember," I snarled at him. "Too young...too young to be raped by my pervert father, you fucker! I was five, you sick bastard, the night before my first day of kindergarten! You fuckin' pinned me down and raped me!" Sam cried convincingly, really into the scenario we were making up as we went along. All the men were up on their feet now, all of them clustered around the sofa, all of them jacking off like monkeys. I could smell their musk, and it was powerfully potent. I laughed like a demon. "Oh yeah, that's right! Fuck yeah, I really destroyed your little 5-year old ass, didn't I? You couldn't even sit down the next day, had to fuckin' stand up in kindergarten all morning!" I panted, then laughed evilly again. "Fuck that little smart-mouth," Jesse said. "He's a little prick." Sam had been groaning and hissing in his breath while I picked up my fuck speed, but now he switched to whimpering and whining, an aural evocation of youth defiled. I could feel sweat streaming down my hairy crack and flinging off my balls every time I bucked into him. Sam's crack was soaked in perspiration, too, and every thrust made a wet slap. The sound thrilled us. Waylon stepped forward and came up behind me, hovering a good three feet away. I turned my head to see what he was doing. "I wanna smell your ass while you pound, man" he said, a smoldering fire in his eyes. "Just for a sec." "Go for it, dude," I snickered. "I didn't shower today." This was a lie, but I suspected the idea would turn him on even more. I was right. He leered at me as I turned my head back to Sam. Expecting to feel Waylon's breath on my asshole at any second, I slowed my fucking and spread my legs a bit more. My hairy ass and hole were now nicely displayed, I knew. Sam had gone back to sucking his cock. I pulled out of his ass and thwacked his balls with my befouled dick, and then reinserted it until my pubes were smashed against his flesh. Bucking hard a few times to make him moan, I let out a snide laugh and began pumping again. Waylon came close behind me and knelt, his face directly in line with my bucking ass. Glancing over my shoulder to watch him, I paused my fucking and let him come in for a good whiff of my shitter. Quietly, almost to himself, he muttered, "Aw, fuckin' Christ, that's good...", and again leaned forward to inhale. I resumed slowly fucking, purposely bumping his face with my hairy ass on every back-thrust. I paused again, and Waylon came in closer, his nose a fraction of an inch away from my shithole, moist and sticky. I forced out a whining fart and cackled nastily as I pushed my still-farting ass into his face, gripping the back of his head with my hand. The room went nuts. The guys whooped and cheered as Waylon stuck his tongue up my shitter, surprising me into letting go of his head. He reared back and ran his arm across his face, running the back of his hand across his mouth. He beamed at me in what looked like startled joy, his eyes flashing like diamond shards, then laughed and stood up. My balls were warning me they were close to draining, and I began to seriously fuck into the final stretch. Sam sensed that it was time and adjusted his efforts to sync with mine. Suddenly, I heard Waylon huff and grunt and my bucking ass was slapped with three splats, warm and wet. Farting and grinding my ass into his face had pushed him over the edge. He blasted his load all over my hairy cheeks, some of it flecking the sofa cushions. The sight and feel of it made my balls roil. I closed my eyes as my orgasm built, the image of my hairy, pumping ass and the back of my thighs doused in fresh semen burning in my brain. I knew damned well how hot I looked, what the guys saw, how Waylon's cum ropes stuck to my furry ass and legs as they erupted from his prick, how it now slowly dripped a few inches before being snagged on my body-hair again. I shook my ass back and forth, made it jiggle, rotated my hips. Some of the guys let out shrill wolf whistles as I taunted them, but I quickly went back to focusing on getting my nut. My crack had a sudden tickle from the sperm dripping down it, and the sensation triggered my orgasm. Howling like an animal, I gasped and roared as my balls released their juice, Sam's ass muscles clenching thirstily. After the first spurt barreled up Sam's guts, I pulled out and aimed the next few bolts at his face and chest. I still had more jizz coming, so I rammed my cock back up his aching ass and let it rip. I came so hard that I almost passed out. As my hips finally slowed thrusting into Sam, I saw that he was moments away from spewing his own load. "Shoot in your face," I barked at him, wanting the guys to see him frost his face like a donut. Sam spat out his cock, lowered his legs from behind his head, and started jerking off in a frenzy. I dropped to my knees and lapped all around his greasy-looking shithole before sticking my tongue in, immediately releasing a gush of sperm into my ravenous mouth. As the guys clustered closer, I started tonguing and sucking my cum out of Sam's frothy hole. All I could hear now were appreciative, rumbling growls and moans as they reacted to the depraved spectacle I was offering them. Waylon's cum felt cool and slippery on my ass, smearing a bit when my ass pressed against the backs of my calves as I knelt. It made me feel good and nasty. Suddenly, Sam was rocking his hips up and down, rasping out a rhythmic, chanting grunt. Seconds later, his cock seemed to explode before our besotted eyes. A beaded curtain of white sperm flew up and out of his dick, falling like hail over his body and the sofa. He thrashed wildly and gasped as his prick pumped out another, and then a third cum curtain. The men cheered. I had never seen Sam cum so hard and so much. I knew he must be incredibly turned-on to deliver such a torrential sperm-storm. Sam's face looked like he was wearing a mask. Cum plastered his hair to his forehead. His eyes were partially obscured under a lumpy blanket of pearly white, slowly slipping down the contours of his face. When he breathed, cum bubbles appeared from his nostrils. A sloppy jizz beard covered his lower face, and the hollow of his throat brimmed with it. A larger pool filled the cleft between his pecs. Sam looked utterly degraded and spent, beautiful in his filthy voluptuousness. I sucked out another mouthful of cum from his ass and hocked it at his face. Landing with an audible `plop' right between his eyes, there was no mistaking that it was ass-cum, since the color was creamier. I stood up and before sitting next to my defiled son, I scooped the cum from his eyes and sucked it off my fingers. Now that he could see me, I turned my ass to him and brought it close to his mouth. "Lick that cum off my ass, bro," I mumbled, "it's Waylon's." Sam did as he was told, as best he could, given the state of his disrepair. I sat next to him on the sofa. "Feed it to me, dude; I wanna taste him," I said a bit louder, all for Waylon's benefit. As we brought out mouths together, all I could smell was Sam's sperm and ass-cum. The stink of it combined was heady and intoxicating, something I wanted to share with our new buddies. "Fuucck...", I quietly laughed, "get a whiff of this!" Two of the guys standing closest to us leaned forward and inhaled loudly and deeply. "Whoo! Damn, you're potent, boy! I bet most of your seed sprouts!" Pete said. All Sam and I had to do now was kick back and watch the guys drain their nuts. Two guys each took a turn sucking my slimy dick, fresh out of Sam's shitter. I could smell the thick, heady stink on my cock as each guy took his turn savoring the flavors that coated it, and the aroma of ass wafting up from my matted, mucky pubes. While my new buddies serviced my dirty prick, Pete took a turn sniffing and eating Sam's well-fucked ass. There was still enough of my cum inside Sam to reward Pete's foul labors. He actually nursed on Sam's shithole like a baby sucking a tit, making a soft gurgling sound and humming in degenerate bliss. He stayed like that until Sam had to push his head away from his over-worked anus. Pete rocked back on his heels when Sam shoved him, stood up, and immediately unleashed a thick stream of hot jizz all over Sam's crotch. This acted like a cue for the other guys to unload. If they had planned and rehearsed it, their timing couldn't have been better. Each guy stepped forward and got as close to us as he could before unloading. Some of them asked questions or made comments as they jerked into the final moments. One guy asked Sam if he could drink Sam's piss, and Sam just laughed and said, `some other time'. Felipe told Sam he would have raped him when Sam was a baby, just as he started shooting on Sam's hairy tummy. It was fascinating to see and hear what secret, private activities and ideas got each guy off. Daniel wanted to cum in my ripe pits; Jesse shot all over the back of my head. As one stiff cock finished up spurting, the next would begin. Cum came at us from every direction, and we laughed and giggled like little boys in a snowstorm. When everyone was drained and spent, we started pulling ourselves together and cleaning up. The room stank like semen, sweat, butt-fucking, and whisky, an intoxicatingly rich and masculine scent. "Smells like paradise," I chuckled. "Smells like prison," Waylon drawled. We all laughed loudly, half-drunk and stupid with endorphins. Felipe asked me, "You got a girl, too, a daughter? And another son?" "Yep. Leda, she's 15, and Nick, 13." A few of the guys guffawed and slapped each other on the back. "Bring her with you next time and introduce us," Felipe said. "Quiero conocer su cono!" Jesse guy laughed loudly and said, "Quiero lamer y follar su cono!", eliciting a huge laugh from Felipe. "What'd they say?" asked Bob. Karl answered with a nasty giggle, saying, "Felipe said, `I want to meet her pussy', and Jesse replied, `I want to lick and fuck her pussy'. Shameful! And in front of her father!" We all laughed, Sam and I the loudest. "Yeah, dude, we wanna see your daughter!" Jesse added. "OK, awesome!" I said, already excited for our next meeting. "I'll bring Nick, too. They put on a good show," I added. "Does he look like you guys?" asked Daniel. Sam and I laughed. "Nah, he doesn't look anything like us. He looks more like his mom, like her side of the family. But yeah, he's a good-lookin' kid, for sure," I said. "Got hair on his dick yet?" "Oh, hell yeah, a nice, thick bush for a kid. And he cums a lot for a kid, too. Runs in the family," I said, proudly. After our display, I felt like I was entitled to boast a bit. It was going on 9 p.m. The men took off pretty quickly once they were cleaned up. Before he left, I slipped my cell number to Waylon and told him to drop by anytime. Bob and I agreed to meet the next day so he could take me through the entire house, show me all the emergency turn-offs and valves, sign some papers, give me a set of keys and instructions for what they all unlocked, and anything else that occurred to him. He also told Sam and I a bit more about each of the guys from the group and ended with something of a warning. "The main objective among us, of course, is staying out of trouble and out of prison. So, try to help them out, watch out for them. Don't let them do anything stupid or too brazen. A couple of them can be really unpredictable, so keep that in mind, too. Just have fun -- they're all great guys, as I said before. As long as they can play every once n a while, they'll be happy." As Sam and I walked back to our place, we compared notes on the evening. By the time we got inside, we had already discussed our dislike for Karl and our admiration for Waylon. "Waylon looks like he'd be cool to chill with, and he's pretty fuckin' sexy for a dude. I'd fuck him, no problem. And I like all his tatts; looks like most of them are home made. He's hot and trashy lookin', dude, so I KNOW you're into him!" Sam laughed. "Damn straight!" I chuckled. "I wonder what he did, Bob still hasn't told us what any of them did. I'll get it out of Bob tomorrow when he shows me the rest of the house." We showered and smoked-out and then climbed into bed. Both of us were worn-out and exhausted from all the energy we'd released earlier and decided to turn-in early. In the morning before Sam took off for school, I stopped him at the opened front door just as he was about to go. "Bro, wait a sec. I wanna get you off again before you leave. Take your dick out," I told him. Hanging onto his backpack with one arm, he used his free hand to undo his belt and open his jeans. I reached inside and hauled out his already-stiffening cock, being careful not to yank on any stray pubes. Sam leaned against the door frame, both of us clearly visible from where we stood framed in the doorway to anyone passing by. Sam held on with both hands to the straps of his backpack. I stepped in close to him, my fist firmly stroking his juicy dick, my mouth glued to his. With my free hand, I reached for the waistband of my pants and got it unbuttoned. I moved my mouth away from his and lingered at his ear, whispering secret filth into it, making him gasp and grunt. I let go of his prick and moved my hand between his legs, prodding his moist asshole before sliding two fingers into him. Sam bucked his hips against me, frantic for more cock stimulation. I withdrew my fingers from his ass and brought them up to his face, running them back and forth under his nose, before putting them in his mouth to suck. When they were slick with his spit, I resumed jerking him off. Within a minute, I had him groaning and whimpering and thrashing under my hand. I took a step back, still jerking his dick, and pulled the waist of my pants away from my stomach, creating a gap between the fabric and my skin. "Aw fuck, I'm gonna shoot," Sam hissed, and intuitively aimed his cock at my waist. I held my waistband open this way as Sam started shooting volleys of cum down the inside of my pants, soaking my belly, pubes, and dick with warm sperm. It felt amazing, and I was thrilled by the idea of wearing my son's cum all day. And if it dripped down my legs, or spotted the front of my pants, or smelled seedy and strong, Bob wouldn't mind. As he finished up and flung the final cum drops off the tip of his prick and then shoved it back inside his jeans, I hauled out my cock and got ready to bust my nut down his pants. Sam giggled as he fumbled with his waistband, but got it pulled out just in time for me to blast my load down it. We were both cackling and snickering like smutty-minded boys, patting and rubbing the crotch of each other's trousers. "I'm gonna be fuckin' wet all day, dude," Sam barked as he straightened his clothes and moved down the walkway to the sidewalk. "I can't wait to smell your dick when you get home, bro," I shouted as he reached the street. We both laughed. The day was full and productive, and Bob and I were together for most of it. He showed me all over the house, including the attic and basement, made a nice lunch for us, and gave me answers to every question I asked him. We parted in the afternoon, about an hour before Sam was due home. I had lots of good information to relay to Sam when he got there. Bob made the introductions, and we shook hands all round. Sam was grinning like an idiot, entranced and fascinated at being in the same room with actual registered sex offenders. I knew it would happen eventually. When it did, I was almost relieved. Sam had been 17 for all of five days when he fell head-over-heels in love. He came home from school one day in an extremely gregarious mood, interspersed with periods of glazed-eyed dreaminess. When he wasn't talking a mile a minute, there'd be silence punctuated by deep, longing sighs. I knew the signs well and wanted to know all the details. But I decided to wait and let him tell me all about it when he was ready. As it turned out, I only had to wait until dinner. The Wolf Pack boys and I had semi-regular meetings over several months, mostly for initiations and fun & games, but some mentoring and instruction, too. Sam and I had struck on the brilliant idea of checking online for registered sex offenders in our area, and had found quite a few, surprisingly. Sam thought it would be fun to contact some of them if we could and see what they were like. If they weren't crazy and we liked them, we had plans for them.