Content warning: This story contains references to or depictions of consensual sex between adults and minors. The story is entirely fictional.

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He Can Take It

By Zane B. Hawk ➧
zanebhawk@protonmail.com

Part 6

Mark looked down at the fifteen-year-old boy on the bed, who was looking back at him. The face was open: eyes wide, mouth parted, nostrils flared with heavy breathing and anticipation. The body was open: hands behind knees, pulling them up and apart, balls hanging below the stiff cock and just above the pink hole that was now softened with spit and was pulsing. 

Mark's mind was open. The promised clarity had come. Whether it was both clarity and reality, or clarity of something else, was harder to discern. What he was seeing was clear: his own dick looking dark and massive in contrast to the boy spread out on the hotel room bed before him, the boy shimmering with pubescent perfection in this summer after his freshman year of high school, Jonah standing to the right of the boy with a container of drinking water, Gil standing to the left of the boy with a small amber bottle of poppers, waiting. 

"Can you please eat me out again, Daddy?" the boy said. He sounded as though anguished by the lack of attention being given to his hole. He pulled his knees back, bunching up his tummy and lifting his pink opening higher and even more open.

Mark stepped forward, and his cock hovered over Mason's cock and balls below. The veins were surging. The plum head was leaking steadily from the hours of denied release. The cock left a trail of scent and slime everywhere Mark moved it. The thick center of the shaft was wider than his own large hand could fully encircle, now at the height of his possible excitement.

Mark saw Gil transfixed at the sight of it. He was staring blankly and moved his hand toward the lid to the small bottle. Not opening it, but ready and eager. "Please take him from me," he said. It wasn’t clear if he realized he was speaking out loud.

Mark saw Jonah transfixed as well, by Gil's reaction, by Mason's need, by Mark's facial expression, extra-human lust, and his gorilla-like posture, hunched movement, and focused scowl.  

Mark returned his gaze to Mason and his raised ass. “Please, please, please," his face said.

“No, I already ate your pussy. It’s time for other things. I’m going to make you gag again.”  Mark was testing if this was real, seeing if the boy would stop him, if the boy’s father would stop him.

Mason nodded. Mark placed all four fingers in Mason's mouth, who relaxed to receive them. Mark pushed deep and filled him, back to where the tongue curved down to his insides again. He did not know if he had done this before. He did not know if he was doing it now. He continued pushing forward until the boy retched. His muscles tensed. Gagged violently. Mark held steady through the gag and withdrew his hand after the boy relaxed. 

Mucus withdrew with his hand like strings of glue. Thick ropes arching from the open mouth to shining fingers. He moved his hand to Mason's ass, leaving lines of spit across his body. He slapped the thick gel into the hole, and Mason jumped at the sting. 

Mark pushed one thick finger into the softened hole. Mason moaned loudly. Anyone on a neighboring balcony would have heard. Gil exhaled with wonderment, as if something life-changing had just been revealed to him.

Mark rotated his hand from palm down to palm up, which prompted a surprised "ooh" from the boy.

"I'm going to finger your prostate now. Then we’ll play a game." He bent his finger upward, found the swollen mound inside, pressed on it.

"Oh fuck!" Mason's feet went in the air involuntarily. Mark relaxed his finger. "Oh fuck, Daddy. I need you to do that again."

"You need to earn it by telling me some things," Mark said, looking Mason in the eyes. Mason nodded quickly, still holding his knees, chest heaving.

"How did you notice me on the beach?" Mark didn’t much care what the answer to the question was. He wanted the kid exposing himself in front of the men in the room, laying himself bare entirely.

"My dad told me there was a hot daddy in the water messing around with a young guy and said I should go see if I could help."

At this first whiff of the boy’s self-exposure, Mark’s dick jumped. He pressed his finger upward again.

"Fffuu—“ was all Mason could get out. Gil was squeezing his dick through his shorts, still wearing the striped polo shirt he had worn to dinner and while swallowing Jonah's cock and while taking his wife and son for ice cream.

Mark relaxed his finger, spit on his free hand, and stroked the boy's cock. Compared to the familiar feeling of his own length and girth, Mason’s felt like a child's stiffy. He applied considerable pressure to the rod while working his finger in and out of the boy in fractions of an inch. When he stopped the movement of his hands, the moaning stopped with them.

"Drink more," said Gill.

"I already have to pee," Mason answered without taking his eyes off Mark.

Then Mark instructed him, "Drink more.” Jonah lifted Mason's head from the mattress and poured three long swallows of water into his mouth. 

Mark said, “Now me," and Jonah placed the water to his lips. Mark's hand was still on the boy's dick, his other still with its finger in the boy’s ass, neither moving. He chugged until the water was gone and he was breathless. 

Mark drew the finger from the boy's ass and felt the small dick jump in his hand. He put the fingers back in Mason's mouth, letting him taste himself, pushing them back in the throat again. Another gag, Mark holding steady again, letting it pass, then pulling the slime out and slapping more of it on the tender hole. He began working two fingers in this time. Mason gave an extended “unggg" as he pulled his legs up to his chest and tried to relax. His forehead was beading with sweat now. All around his mouth and chin was wet and slick. 

“I want you to tell me why your family went to the nude beach.”

Mark pushed the two fingers farther, and the second knuckles slid past the ring.

"Nnngfuck Dad wanted to see me flirt with guys. He said he wanted me getting them hard." Deep panting.

"And what did you want?"

"I wanted to suck dick. I wanted to suck your dick. On the beach with everybody seeing.” Mason was getting used to the two fingers. The tone of discomfort was turning to one of hunger and insistence.

Mark had not touched his own dick yet, but it remained as hard as it had ever been. He looked down and saw it, red turning purple. Head glistening. Trail of slime still flowing from the tip as it bobbed over Mason’s cock and balls. Jonah and Gil were staring at it. Mark felt them willing it to stretch the boy now. But Mark was not ready for that.

He withdrew both fingers. The hole stayed open the size of a dime for a second, then stuttered and winked closed. He smacked Mason's hole with an open palm. The smack reverberated.

"Fuck!" Mason cried, completely unaware and uncaring of how loud he was. 

"Mason, look at me." Mark said. Their eyes held steady on each other. "How old were you the first time you came?" Marks open palm was circling the stinging hole. Mason appeared to be in another world now. 

"I was twelve I was twelve I was twelve."

"Tell me what happened." The palm side of his straightened fingers were pressing at the outside of the hole. "I'm going to rub your boy pussy while you tell me." He repeated the circular motion across the boy's hole, which was trying to turn itself inside out to get more contact to the sensitive nerves inside. 

Mason's eyes rolled back. He spoke as though having a vision. “I was spending the night at my aunt and uncle's house."

“Tell me what happened," Mark repeated when Mason didn't continue. Mason looked over at Gil with apology or for absolution. 

Gil said, "He's in charge. Do what he says." It was obvious that Gil wanted to hear. A wet spot was growing on the front of his shorts as he stroked through them.

"I took my uncle's underwear off the bathroom floor and I guess it was the smell of them that made me so horny I shot on myself.” As the sentence left his mouth, his embarrassment began to melt away.

"How old were you the first time you wanted dick?" Mark slid the two fingers back inside, brought them up to the boy's prostate, pushed.

Mason couldn't answer. He moaned, and the lubricating mucus Mark had brought up from deep in his throat gargled as Mason lost the ability to maintain any dignity whatsoever.

Gil opened his shorts and reached inside. 

"No," Mark told him. "This is about me and him."

"Yes, sir," Gil answered instinctively.

Jonah made eye contact with Mark, licked his lips, and nodded an open-mouthed "fuck yeah," in congratulation for Mark’s moving toward what he needed.

Mark pushed harder into the kid's prostate. "Whose dick did you want first? How old were you?" Mark relaxed his fingers so Mason could respond, but kept them in the kid. Mason, however, hadn't even heard the question. In his mind he was still twelve, sniffing his uncle's underwear in the bathroom. 

"He came into the bathroom right after I shot and he saw it all over me."

Gil moaned and said, "My brother, Uncle Tommy?”

Mason nodded, looking at Mark with need.

"What did he do?" Mark asked.

"Nothing. He just said sorry and walked out.” Panting. Pushing his ass out and willing Mark to push more in. “I think about it all the time now."

Gil continued working his cock through the fabric. Jonah's cock was pointed up and extending past the waistline of his shorts — the head, Prince Albert, and part of the shaft visible and wet. 

"Was that the first dick you wanted? Uncle Tommy?" Mark pressed into his prostate again with both fingers. Mason moaned, open-mouthed and ugly. He shook his head no. Mark relaxed his fingers to let the boy speak.

"Mr. Peterson at church. I saw him pissing at the urinal once. I wanted to touch it. I always watched him to see when he would go in so I could see, and he let me see it a bunch of times.” Mason's chest was shining with sweat now and was flushed with red blotches. His lips were swollen. He seemed to be nearly hyperventilating. 

"How old were you?"

"Probably like eight or nine."

“Fuuck," breathed Gil. He squeezed his dick hard, as if trying to stop it from erupting on its own. His other hand still cradled the poppers like a talisman. 

Mark withdrew his fingers yet again. The hole stayed open wider this time, the size of a nickel, then it winked closed. 

"Do you play with this pussy?" Mark asked.

“Yes, yes I play with it."

"Ever use a toy on it?"

"I use Mom and Dad's dildo. Dad let me use it once and I go into their room and take it sometimes now."

"I think we all want to see you finger yourself like a horny slut. Put your hand on my dick, get my precum, and rub it up inside your cunt, little boy."

Mason did. Mark’s knees nearly buckled at the sensation of this smooth, small hand swirling around his head and just behind it. Mason then scooped up more precum that had drooled from Mark's cock onto his own balls. He moved his fingers down to his hole and plunged two inside. It was obvious that this was familiar territory for him. He pistoned them in and out, fast, with another long “uuunggghh" that vibrated to the speed of his blurred fingering. 

"He's fucking gone. You've got him losing his mind," said Jonah. His normally aloof composure was failing. 

Mason's legs were still spread wide, knees still drawn up. Mark stepped back for a better view of the display. 

“Fuck him,” whispered Jonah, pleading. Composure gone. 

The boy fucked himself furiously with his fingers. The entire room was aflame in lust now. 

"Please fuck him," said Gil.

Mark looked at Gil as he asked Mason, “What was your favorite part about being in this room with me earlier?" Mark was stroking his cock now. Long strokes from the base to the head and back. His had riding the enormous plum, the ridge, the expanding shaft at the midpoint, all the way to the base, and then the long slide back to the head. His tongue extended as he saw the boy lift his hips even farther and finger himself deeper, bringing himself to the edge of insanity, all decorum lost, an animal in heat. No thought about the witnesses to his depravity.

"Your hand on my throat. I loved your hand around my neck and your cock so far down my throat. I hated it but loved it more. I couldn't breathe and I was gagging and you didn't stop."

Mark stepped forward, still stroking. His balls were now hanging down against Mason's. He put his hand to Mason's throat. Mason stopped his rapid fingering and pushed his fingers in deep and held them there. 

"Why did you like that? What did you feel?"

Mason's voice croaked out, "It was like I was yours. Like you owned me."

Mark didn't remove his hand from the boy's throat. Mason’s face started to turn red. Mark didn't break eye contact with the boy when he said to Gil, "Do I own him?"

Gil hissed, “Yess."

Mark stood upright. Told Mason to remove his fingers from his ass. "Lick them off." Mason complied. He then said to Gil, "Give Jonah your poppers and sit over there.” He gestured to a chair against the wall. “You can take off your pants and jerk off if you want, but don't distract us." Jonah took the poppers. 

Mason maintained eye contact with Mark over his lower eyelids that were swelling red. 

In his peripheral vision, Mark saw Mason's father step back, drop his shorts, and release his dick. He sat and started stroking slowly. 

Mark slid two fingers back into Mason's ass, checking how loose he had become. The ring still gave some resistance and Mason's voice still strained as Mark slid them in deeper and pushed the thickest section of his fingers past the ring. Mark said to Jonah, "There's lube in the end pocket of that bag." 

Jonah retrieved the bottle of lube and handed it to Mark. Mark squirted it directly on the kid's hole, around his probing fingers. Mason jumped at the coolness of it. Mark worked it inside, and the boy's strained moans took on a cooing hum. He told the boy to present his hand, and he poured lube onto it. "Grease this up before I slide it in you.” 

As Mason reached between his legs and twisted his hand around Marks cock from base to head, felt the length and the girth, he uttered, "Oh fuck. I can't take that can I?"

Mark only responded, "Get it nice and slick. Your dad brought you poppers. Have you used poppers before?” Mark nodded toward the bottle in Jonah's hand. 

Mason shook his head no, looked at the bottle. "What does it taste like?" The innocence of the question made Mark's cock thicken in Mason's hand. 

"You smell it. Your head is going to swim, and your hole will open up. Your ass will be hungrier than it's ever been."

Mason nodded. 

Mark nodded at Jonah.

Jonah shook the bottle and the ball inside rattled agains the glass. He unscrewed the lid. 

"Exhale all the way," Mark said. He positioned his hand over Mason's mouth so his thumb was able to close Mason’s right nostril. Mason squeezed Mark's cock, gliding from shaft to head, hand unable to close around it. A long string of precum dripped onto Mason's stiff prick and his balls, which were already tightening. "Now inhale deep."

Jonah held the bottle under Mason's left nostril. Mark saw his eyes go large in reaction to the bite of the fumes. 

"Now again. Exhale all the way." They repeated on the other side. The inhale was more bold this time. Mason's chest expanded, making his large pink nipples pushed up toward the ceiling.

"I don't feel anything," He said.

“Give it a second."

Mark placed a third finger at Mason's opening, pushed gently, testing. He looked down at the boy and saw his face go red. Then his shoulders. Then his chest red. His eyes were large and unmoored in their focus. The hole loosened at Mark's fingertip, and his third finger joined the first two inside the boy's body. The boy made a sound something like a growl and a whine and grabbed the bedspread in his fists. Mark spun his three fingers in the hole, turning his hand palm-up and then palm-down.

"Please fuck me. Please. Put it in me," Mason said, delirious. Mark looked to his left and saw Gil on the chair, stroking faster, face held in open-mouth wonderment at his son writhing on the bed, begging to be impaled by Mark's massive dick.

"Can he take it?" Gil asked, now looking at Mark, glancing at his erection, back at his face. 

Mark had lost most of the buzz in his head now. If this was a dream, the dream quality was thinning. He worried that if he let it continue to thin, continued to lose the dreamlike swirl, it would burst and he would wake and the experience would be lost. 

"I want more of that stuff," he told Jonah, or dream-Jonah, or the satyr, or whatever this being was, who was bringing him the best sex of his life.

Jonah reached into his pocked, unscrewed the dropper, and placed two drops under Mark's tongue. Licorice and metal again. Mark didn't know whether dream-drops would work. But he would do anything to keep this going. 

"Give him another hit." 

Jonah dispensed another long inhale of poppers to Mason. In five seconds the hole bloomed around Marks hand, sucking all three fingers in entirely. 

Mark caught the feeling returning. Felt himself growing near the ceiling, looking down on the boy. He looked so small.

"You're so fucking beautiful," Mark said. "I'm going to ruin you." Dark crept into the edges of his vision.

Mason repeated, "Please,” and his head began rotating left and right.

Mark aligned the dark plum head of his dick with the hole in front of him. This time the hole had stayed open the size off a quarter. He pushed. There was resistance. He kept the pressure, but pulled back slightly. Pushed again. The hole opened, swallowed the entire head, squeezing it as Mark steadily pushed it in, and the ring popped closed behind the plum. Mason's head was moving left and right more quickly now. He pulled his legs up farther toward his shoulders.

"More. More,” he said, straining through his first poppered haze.

"Push for me, boy."

Mark felt a soft expansion behind his enormous head as the boy pushed out. Mark pressed in farther a few inches.

"Oh fuuuck." said the small, beautiful form below him. His face was perfection, not caring how his beauty had turned to disfigurement in this pleasure. He was fifteen, he was twelve, he was eight or nine. He was perfection. 

"You're taking your first dick, son."

"It's so big, daddy. Ohh fuck." He had another pushing contraction as Mark entered farther. The thickening portion of is shaft began opening Mason even more. He paused when the thickest point was being squeezed by Mason's little ring. It convulsed. Mark held steady.

"You have to take it out. I'm going to pee myself," Mason said with panic on his face, looking squarely up at Mark.

"Good. Piss yourself." Mark withdrew his cock a couple of inches, then began pushing forward again. Mark was holding Mason's legs now with his hands behind the knees. He pushed his dick past where he had been. The most challenging middle region now swallowed by the boy’s virgin hole. He heard a twisted, boy-voiced groan.

"Go ahead. Piss all over yourself. Let it go. Be a filthy slut for me."

Mason's mouth opened and he huffed in and out, dog panting, as Mark gave short thrusts. Mason's entire groin region contracted and he called out like a woman giving birth. Champagne piss dripped from his hard prick, then streamed, filling his belly button, then flowed fully up to his chest, his neck, his face.

Mason continued to groan. His hole felt puffed around Mark’s dick, who extended the length of his thrusts. 

"Open your mouth," Mark told him as the stream splashed his face and the bed on either side of it.

"Open your mouth," Gil whispered from his seat in awe. 

Mason's mouth opened and piss filled it, flowed out the sides and was replenished.

Mark bent at the waist, put a hand behind Mason's neck, and pulled their faces together for a deep kiss as Mason continued his stream, still half impaled on Mark. Mark could taste the piss — warm, salty, fresh. He could smell the poppers lingering in the boy’s sinuses. He could taste vanilla ice cream and childhood. 

They shared the tastes between their tongues. The boy prick continuing to stream hot liquid between their bodies. Mark pushed his hips forward farther, three quarters of his dick inside the boy now, and he hit the curve and second the ring inside the boy's guts. Mason opened his mouth around Mark's tongue and exhaled deeply. 

"What was that?" he panted. 

"That's you getting ready to take me deep."

Mark had been on the edge of cumming repeatedly for hours. And whether the cum was going to be fired onto the bed while he dreamt or into the boy beneath him, he didn't know, but he was going to release it now. 

His balls were heavy, full, and tender as they swung under his wide-stance legs in front of the bed, in front of the boy. The drops under the tongue bathed him from the inside, thoroughly into that swirl of sensation and overlapping realities.

He stood up straight, looked down at the soaked boy, who was simultaneously eight and seeing dick in the church bathroom — twelve and sniffing his uncle's underwear, being seeing by his uncle with his first watery load all over him — thirteen and sucking his first daddy dick, the one his own father had sucked, the one his father would listen to him sucking — fifteen with legs spread, hole open, covered in piss and drenched in lust. 

Mark looked down at his own cock. It seemed impossible that it fit inside this child. He withdrew past the thick midpoint. The boy's hole turned nearly inside out as its tightness grasped at the shaft and refused to let it go. Mark watched himself push back in, hitting bottom again as Mason moaned, lost in his own extreme experience. His dad was still stroking, tapping at his balls with his free hand, looking at Mark with thanks and pleading. Jonah said, "Do what we all need you to do."

Mark gyrated his hips, working at the second opening deep inside the boy, wedging it open with the rotation of the head. It was a tight, wet rubber band at the tip of his head, being stretched with each corkscrewed rotation and the pressure of his hips. 

This rotation was pressing the girthiest part of his cock against Mason's prostate. Mason gurgled, drooled piss and spit, eyes unfocused, moaned insanely. Mark recognized what was happening to him.

"I'm going to piss again," Mason mumbled as though he were drunk.

"No, you're about to cum the way girls cum,” said Mark. “And I'm going to piss up in side you while it happens.”

"Oh fuck," said Gil.  He seemed to be close to orgasm as he said to Jonah, “I need to suck you.”

Mark, still rotating, still pushing, still mesmerized by the shapeshifting small body below him said to Jonah, "No. You grab his tits. You," he said to Gil, still not breaking his gaze at the wonder beneath him that was swallowing him in, "You gag on your own fingers."

As if driven by a spell, Gil put all four fingers in his mouth while pumping furiously as his dick. Jonah moved onto the bed and knelt on the far side of Mason's head. 

Mark pushed, twisted. The rubber band was nearly past his enormous and flared head now. He closed his eyes and said, “I’m gonna piss. You're gonna get your little guts flooded with daddy's piss now."

Jonah grabbed both of Mason's puffy nipples and pinched. Mark pushed harder, popped through the second entrance, and sunk his cock entirely into the small body. 

He relaxed the muscles behind his balls and felt the hot flood of piss move from deep, under his balls, inside the bottom of his shaft, and fire out of his slit. His shoulders relaxed. He looked up at the ceiling, shivered, and started thrusting while continuing to flood the boy's insides with hot gold.

Mason reacted to the full length and width of Mark's cock inside him by having contractions like a birthing woman. Groaning, pulling his knees up, mouth open and face pulled taut into the shape of a mask of greek tragedy.

The room spun.

Mark slid his cock back out and fully back in. His heavy balls smacked into Mason's small and tight ones. Then again. Slam. Slam. The thrusts were faster now. Mason became an object with a cock-serving purpose — to take the brunt of what he had started with Mark hours before. 

Jonah continued pinching his nipples. Mark continued sliding the head and thick shaft against Mason's prostate as he pounded him. There was sweat. Piss was leaking from the boy's ass despite the tightly clenched hole milking Mark's cock.

Gil gagged on his own fist and arched his hips up. His body bent grotesquely backwards as he convulsed, reaching his hand farther into himself, pumping at his dick as he watched his son fully impaled, pissed on, pissed in, and about to be bred. His cum flew from his cock and onto himself and the carpet. Mark could smell the bleachy aroma of release.

"You beautiful fucking whore," Mark said to Mason and placed his hand back around his throat. "I'm gonna nut so deep in your boy cunt. You're going back to school with my baby up inside you. Are you ready?"

Mason couldn't answer. He was in the middle of his last and strongest contraction, brought on by the repeated ramming of his insides, the electricity flowing back and forth between his cock head, his prostate, and his tortured nipples. 

The only reply Mason could give was, "Uuuunnngggggg,” as his first shot of cum smacked onto Jonah's cheek above and behind the boy. The sounds continued, loud, as Mason's second stream of cum draped from his forehead and beyond to Jonah’s thigh.

Mark fucked faster, using every bit of sensation Mason's convulsing hole was providing his widening dick. 

Mark’s balls pulled up tight, something in him opened, muscles surged, world spinning to darkness, and he pumped and he pumped and he pumped. His cum mixed with the piss in the boys' bowels. His pumping mixed it. Churned the cocktail of perversion inside him. 

Mason was still cumming. Covered from face to chest to bunched tummy. His own piss and cum glistening outside, the man's piss and cum being churned inside. 

Mark's orgasm slowed and his mind halted. Things were dim. The people dissolving into imagination. Something sucked at his cock, holding tight as he rotated his body onto the bed and collapsed.

A man stood from the chair. Another moved from the bed. 

"Hurry,” he thought he heard.

In his mind or i his room, there was the gold chalice again, at the edge of the bed this time.

"Now try to open up and push."

He closed his eyes. His dick felt heavy. He had cum. He was sure that part was real.

He opened his heavy eyes enough to see a glint of gold in the darkness being held to a child's lips as he lay sweating.

He's being nursed back to health. It wasn't exactly a conscious thought. It was a mental gesture.

Then a man drank.

Then Mark left this dream and was asleep.

When Mark woke, the sunrise over the ocean was streaming light through the open door to the balcony. There was a familiar sound he couldn’t quite place. He was in bed, alone, positioned comfortably. 

He was no more clear about what had happened. The bed was wet, but with whatever he had smoked, had taken under his tongue, it was completely possible he had pissed the bed himself. 

“What. The. Fuck,” he groaned. His phone was ringing. That was the sound that had woken him.

“Hey, there’s this thing next weekend. It’s a sort of a camping thing in the mountains. A guy hosts it every year on some land he has up there. Lots of very kinky guys. I think you’d like it.” Jonah sounded way too energetic for Mark right now.

“Yeah, maybe.” Mark was trying to read Jonah’s tone. Was he avoiding talking about last night? Did last night happen?

“You should. Seriously. You would be very popular and it would be a great chance to get all that pent-up energy out.”

If Jonah thought he still had pent-up energy that needed to be spent, maybe it hadn’t been real.

“Yeah, I’ll let you know. I’m just waking up here. I’m late for check out.”

They ended the call. Mark threw his things in his bag. He apologized out loud to the cleaning lady who would eventually be coming in to clean up the piss-filled bed.

As he did his last scan around the room for any items left behind, he saw it on the night stand. The small amber bottle of poppers, a bottle he had not brought with him.

And that decided it for Mark. He would be following Jonah to the mountains next weekend. There was no way he couldn’t.

The End

(The end for now. The next set of adventures might be added. Let me know what you think. zanebhawk@protonmail.com.)