Date: Sun, 21 Aug 2005 19:12:35 -0700 (PDT) From: mghj4dads smith Subject: "The Littlest Entrepreneur" Parts 6 and 7 The Littlest Entrepreneur Parts 6 and 7 By: Mr. gloryholeJUNKIE mghj4dads@yahoo.com Warning: Please refer to that which appears in Part One. And again, remember to leave the written word where it is - on the page (or screen), gentlemen! Preface: A genuine insight into Fatherhood may sometimes be best understood if one thinks of it - in shorthand - as consisting of two facets: That "whole world of dad stuff" which is shared with mommies, in laws, neighbors, the family's minister and society-at-large. And the other half containing another "whole world of dad stuff" which is known by or shared among only dad himself, his son know - and other men. Ironically, the latter half knows they're part of a whole while the former half thinks it is the whole! Any dad or, quite frankly, adult male with a fully-functioning libido, knows what that means. While "mommy" thinks that she has it all figured out - including the notion that her husband actually enjoys spending hours and hours out in his work shed each night as he tinkers on that first motorized go-cart for his son, he actually knows "the real dad scoop" that keep him out there after a long day at the office. Yeah, dad knows he's got a stack of twisted porn a mile high in one of his metal cabinets out there - and that, already, he's got his kid hooked on the stuff. What better way to assure that your son spends "quality time" after dinner to "help out daddy". So, while mom lives in her reality inside the house, Dad knows, as he wrenches a big lug nut, that he's got a heavy-duty, hardcore glory hole DVD playing out in that 16 x 20 work shed, volume set to low as it plays on that cheap Wal-Mart player he put out there - the one he told his wife he was putting out there for How-To videos and to pass to watch all the "violent content" movies she won't allow in the house. Oh, and its (the DVD player, um, not the kid) the one already coated in the messy mixture of axle grease and daddy cum-coated fingerprints due to the many "show times" he`s let his little son enjoy with him out there. And while mom's inside telling her parents how wonderful their son did on his spelling bee, dad knows how wonderful his son sucks big dick. As she explains how cute their son looked in his first school picture, dad, as he clicks away, knows how cute the pictures are of him with a thick grown up cock in his mouth. And only God could count how many nights that this dad has had his son bent over while he calls up secret sex buddies, guys he's met in XXXs mostly, to come over for a special show. In that work shed, there might be up to six men -and dad - some nights, all beating off over a smooth tiny butt, its tight pink rosebud getting thick fingers shoved into it as its laid out over a saw horse- a far cry from the reality inside the house where mom is making chocolate chip squares for "Cookie Day" at his school. It's expression of that extreme dimension of Fatherhood that no one but dads and other men could even possibly begin to understand. Ask any man. Whether or not he agrees with it or whether or not he thinks it immoral, or whether or not he'd ever do such things, he'll still say that he understand it. Of course, most dads aren't that direct in their expression of the other half of Fatherhood. But, still, even for most dads, that special secret of Fatherhood still exists. They're the dads who simply go about things more covertly. They make it a habit to walk around in their Jockey shorts only when the wife's away. Interesting how many dads do that. A father who may be modest, even conservative, throughout the week, will - when the wife is out for an entire day and leaving him alone with his sons - suddenly decide to laze around the house in just his bulging Jockey shorts. There are dads who get full erections, even ejaculate, while holding their young sons while they watch television together in the dim light of the family room. And no, its not the first thing a man announces to the world so, of course, their wives don't know - they're not supposed to know! But that doesn't mean it doesn't happen. Its as "covert" a thing as allowing a son's thigh to exert not-always-so-innocent pressure on daddy's erection as he lays on top of his daddy. Oh, how a man will use his kid`s body during "father-son t.v. watching snuggle time on the couch" - use it like an after-work forty-five pound humpable blanket! Or whenever he tucks his little guy in at night, only dad himself knows why he keeps those old, ragged pajama bottoms he wears - the ones which his wife just hates. "I bought you brand new ones six months ago that you`ve never worn, Bob", she says. "You're an account exec...you don't have to go around dressing like a poor college student anymore." "Yeah, but these are comfortable", he argues. "Can't a man be comfortable in his own home now?" That's how daddy lies to mommy, of course. Because he knows that he keeps them since they're the one's that have the missing snap. And because of that, dad knows they're the ones that cause his big, hairy dick to plop right out of the extra large fly whenever he sits down "just so" on the edge of his son`s bed. Daddy, in the back of his mind, even calls them his "my tuck my son in at night pj bottoms". Every dad has such pajama bottoms. And if not pajama bottoms, its that special pair of Jockey shorts with the leg elastic all stretched out so dad's heavy scrotum just might hang out. Or it's a pair of boxer shorts that dad knows best shows off the massiveness of his lengthy penis. Or its a towel he wears that keeps slipping or the robe that keeps opening or the sweat shorts that he knows allows his schlong to swing big and obvious or the business suit trousers that show off his meat snake or the jeans which he knows catches his son's ogles in just the right spot. Sure, as we all know, a son is always interested in knowing what his dad is built like - how his old man is hung. More sons that you could ever count try to get a look at or a secret grope of their own dad's meat. It can even become an obsession for some of them. Notice a boy of a certain age - they're utterly enthralled with watching grown up penises as they hang out at urinals. And never, ever do you see men shoo away such a young admirer. That alone is always very telling of adult male sexuality. Whether single or married, a dad or not, older or younger, rich or poor, Republican or Democrat men will let a youthful pair of eyes feast on their adult meat as they whiz at public urinals or as they take their time soaping up in the Y showers. No matter how sneakily they have to do it, men will put on the best penis show they can for a boy - even if they don't have (or never thought they had) intentions beyond letting the kid get an eyeful. Watch the men standing at urinals when a homosexually curious young lad to working all the angles to see the penises of adult strangers in a men's room. The kid is so cute acting as though none of the men catch on. And yet, watch the men. None will stand closer into his urinal (as they might do when an elderly coot might be ogling). Instead, almost every time, each man, however subtlety, will let the kid look. Most of them even step a step or lean back so as to give the little guy a real eyeful. Heck, you'll even see men quickly step up to the urinals where the kid's already marveling over three penises, just to unzip to show the boy one more big adult daddy pants snack treat. There's Human Behavior and then there's Male Behavior, lest we forget. And many a'father, if one notices, will often let his little guy dawdle while within such places. Who would have known that a dad washing his hands and re-washing his hands would have its underlying motivation stem from somewhere in perversion? You see these fathers washing their hands forever as they give their son plenty of time to soak up the scenery being wagged at him from the row of urinals. And there is power in that ability - a power that is not lost on most dads. With just a bit of maneuvering and feigned obsessive-compulsive disorder, he knows he's letting his own son see the meaty penis of another man - a stranger. And some dads get off to know that many men are wagging their meat for his kid's attention. And many argue, in fact many dads agree, its that knowledge of their own dadly powers to make or cause things to happen that's a bit of the libidinous turn on unto itself - knowing that you're allowing your kid to see such sights. As pop meanders over to the hand dryer for the fourth time, he knows he's giving some other men ample time to show adult meat to his kid. The dad knows that his son is standing in a room with perhaps two or more "pervs" at that very moment (and, how ironic is it that, here, mom wanted dad to escort the little slugger in order to ward off those sorts). But, again, its often all a part of the sense that most men share - another of those Gentlemen's Agreements that if the tot's own dad brought him in and isn't stopping the proceedings, he's offering his kid as fair game. And many dads rationalize the notion that the warnings of pervs in men's rooms is directed toward a boy when left on his own. But when its his own dad taking him in there and is hovering at the sinks, though, many dads then figure that men can play with his son in the stalls all they like. Hell, that old time warning was for when a mom sent their little guy in alone. But when he stands at the mirrors over the sinks in the men's room - re-combing his hair for the fiftieth time - while his son is with two or three men in a stall, heck, what's the necessity of any warnings when dad himself is chaperoning the event. That's not to say its right or in any way meant to condone it, its just the way it is. Or, equally "covert" but more daringly, there are the dads who purposefully take a hike with their son down one of those wildly perverted trails in the woods. Any other man on those trails knows what's up since a "decent" dad would never have brought his kid to "those" woods. But, again, this dad is merely dense and barely notices the fact that a dozen men are tailing them. Why, he even smiles and says hello to some of them - the fact that they're all single men over the age of thirty-five never dawning on him. Why, he's just a happy dad out for a walk with his kid...who is wearing a cartoon tee shirt and red Speedo a size too small (Hey, it's a hot, humid summer afternoon, he didn't want his little guy to get heat exhaustion). And he is the sort of dad who always just coincidentally brings his son directly to that hidden spot with the abandoned picnic table, isn't he? Just a natural stopping place - for a rest (but of course). So the table is covered in years of pornographic graffiti and the ground is littered with scads of used rubbers. Its is a public forest preserve, after all. Fortunately, his son just thinks they're weird balloons as he picks them up, coating his fingers with the "funny goo" from each. And dad just happens to hang out a real long time there. Time is meaningless, he tells his son. "Gotta stop and smell the roses", he says as he feigns fatherly advice...and stalls for time. Heck, he even hears a special sort of bird. All that he wants is for his son to appreciate nature as he tells him to look for the birdie. Heck, he acts like he doesn't even know that over a dozen birds...hawks... men are now circling the table where he and his son sit. He doesn't notice a man over there next to a trashy bush is groping himself. And he can't recognize the action of that other man over there unzipping his trousers as he stands beside a scraggly tree. He's the dad who doesn't seem to see the men stepping closer. He's the dad who doesn't tell his little guy they'd better get a move on. He's the dad who doesn't notice a hand on his crotch as some other men are feeling up his own son as they all pull down his little Speedo. Yeah, there are many of that sort of dad out there. But heck, he only got the idea when his wife made him buy the extra large container of BabyWipes that day they were all at Target. "We need one for the car", she said. And when he then began to ask her, "Five hundred BabyWipes? How can any kid go through five hundred BabyWipes in the car...?" - well, ever since, dad's mind has been clicking. But, technically, he didn't do anything. He's just a dad - with five hundred BabyWipes in his backpack - who went to a public place with his son. No one will ever know. And sure as hell, none of the men surrounding that table where his son is now on his back is going to tell. You haven't met a true buddy until you've met a perverted stranger! After all, most of the men standing there exposing their cock to a kid in such a way are, most likely dads themselves. So they know what another father is up to when they see it. They know it and they know that if they hadn't wanted their own son exposed to such, they'd have never guided the tyke right into Stranger-Penis Central Station. (And who counts the BabyWipes left in a container - so they've gone through a hundred or so sheets by the end of the "hike"- whose going to know?). Those are the semi-active things that dads do every day that helps to mold a son after his own image, if you will. Even dads of older sons are notorious for being the guys oftentimes who are behind the posting of pics at many Internet forums. You know, those no-porn pic forums for hot young bodies with posts called "Hey Guys, Check Out this Smokin' Hot Dude!" with six vacation snapshots of some super hot half-naked teenager bulging big in wet board shorts attached. Many times, more times than mom (or a young man, quite frankly) could handle, it's the dad among them who gets off (literally) on the salivating clamor of response which his own handsome kid causes among men - who all then create a string of replies six pages long about the kid being a stud and asking for more bulge angles. And that prompts another father to anonymously post his own son`s pics, never admitting such, of course, as he creates a title like, "Hottie I saw in ...uh...my Backyard". This dad then posts fifty-two pics that's he just taken of his well hung teen aged son mowing the grass in just his Speedos. The kid thought it was a little strange that dad kept snapping away. In fact, he finally said to the old man, "Come on dad, how many more pictures do you need to take just to send one to Grandma?" And although the high schooler knew that digital photography was his dad's new little hobby, he didn't know that dad was sharing his cute mug, big bulge and nicely developing body for comment among masturbating men. Heck, these fathers get off on just knowing that his own son could get a blowjob from at least seventy men who have already all secretly discussed (and jerked off) to his physique. These are, more times than not, the family photos the dad has taken of his college-aged son or his high schooler the moment he's turned eighteen. Heck, many high school seniors are eighteen and able to get into any XXX bookstore or theater after school. And their fathers know it. And that leads to another dad who leaves all sorts of hints or clues about some local XXX for his son "to find accidentally" (and on his own). These fathers do everything from leaving a newspaper page open to an ad for a local XXX - to leaving a matchbook with a bookstore's name on it in the car those times he lends it to his son - to anonymously e-mailing the kid with the info. After all, these dads know that their kid is old enough, if even just barely, to get into a XXX. Just the thought of a bunch of strange men slurping on his kid's boner and sucking down big volleys of the family's cum is enough to get these fathers off. Many dads when alone in the family SUV with their high school son, will purposefully drive by adult theaters and bookstores - perhaps mentioning something of them in passing. And the comments don't need to be at all positive in order to get a young man`s libido into over drive. Saying (in an admonishing tone, of course), "Damn. Another one of those dirty bookstores in our area. What`s happened to this town? A man can barely drive without passing one of these scandalous places where perverts are sucking off any guy who comes in at every hour of the day and night...tsk, tsk!" can be just as effective as the buddy-dad approach of, "There's another one of those places where a guy can bust a nut after a bad date...only a dollar to get a blowjob sure doesn't put a dent in the wallets of any of the young guys lining up after midnight on a Saturday night to shoot into a live, hungry mouth all the loads the gals didn't take." Dads know there's now very high odds that their virile and newly legal, young son will be getting his teen meat sucked, his extremely copious teen sperm sucked down by whatever men are squatting in the dark corners of such places the very next day - and for, perhaps, the rest of his entire manhood (er, life). Some of these dads show their even younger sons the route to the busiest cruise woods. A simple dad and son morning of bike riding, becomes a dad's way of showing how easy it is to reach the woods by bicycle. Many fathers will just lead the way and it just seems a natural destination, the woods (doesn't it?). He'll pedal his kid right to where the men cruise the parking lot, and since they're on bikes, he'll even have his son follow him for some "off-road" adventure. After all, that's why he bought his fourth grader a mountain bike - all the better to navigate the suck trails. Whether anything happens at that moment is beside the point. The kid will be pedaling up there every day after school now that he knows the way. But that's the way dads operate - behind the scenes - sometimes not even letting their own kid into the loop. And, often, just showing the kid "the route" is enough. Some may say it's a father's turn on to be an enabler. To know that their behind the scenes work or feigned looking the other way actually gets their kid hooked on washroom blowjobs or park sex. Like those who show their older sons the route to different XXXs, many dads of younger sons will actually give a silent tour of all the active tearooms they know of. Whether they do anything at that moment isn't even important. The kid knows where they all are now. Dads will lead their junior high son on what can seem a city tour of tearooms. There are dads whose highlight of a father-son afternoon downtown is the fact he's actually using the day as a ploy to show his son every active pit stop. Shopping some Tuesday evening alone with the young slugger, dad knows where a boy's libido is at that age. Thirteen and the kid will put his cock into anyone's hands. No use trying to explain to mom why two healthy guys, dad and son, just happened to stop in three different restrooms while at the mall for just two hours. And many dads love strolling the busy financial districts with their son as they stop in at every restroom where businessmen make a pit stop for a blowjob. Some dads have actually led that one son of theirs, the one they suspect of being a cocksucker, on a tour of city tearooms. Their casual walk about just happens to have them hit six men's rooms - everywhere from dad's own office building to a convention hotel to a subway station (and they don't even take the subway). But dad knows that the next time he suggests his son be dropped off to spend a couple of hours by himself downtown or at the mall, he can bet that the kid will make a beeline to one of those men's room. Some dads will even drop of their son at a mall, saying he'll pick him up again in three hours, to only go around the parking lot and park the car - giving the kid a five minute head start. Those are dads who lead their sons right to the chicken hawks. They know what they're doing, these dads. Yeah, sometimes this type of father, already knowing what his kid is up to sexually on such evenings (having read his son from little up), winds up being the just the sixth anonymous Men's size 11 loafer tapping for a blowjob being given to everyone under stall from the "Keds sneaker" in the middle stall. But more time than that, these dads park elsewhere just to then re-enter through a different mall door. It never takes long to find his kid - and there he is near the bench outside the men's rooms. Even from a distance he can see what a cutie his kid is - he knew those tight jeans would attract the men to his kid`s young cock and butt. But this dad's "thing" is to then just hover in the distance as to watch two or three chicken hawks cruising his son. This sort of father will sit on a bench for two hours (yeah, behind a potted palm) to enjoy seeing the bulging within the men's slacks as they chat with his kid - his own son. He's the dad who smiles inside when he then sees his boy wander off with a man, then return in ten minutes and then wanders off another man...and then another. This dad goes crazy when he sees two or three men walk his kid out to a van for an hour of god knows what. But not crazy with anger, Instead, he's crazy with father's gleeful lust. As dad follows but sits in his own car watching that van, he beats off knowing his kid's nothing but a little slut. And he wonders if the men are all sucking his kid's young dick or bareback screwing his tiny butthole or shoving cocks into his mouth. He even wonders if the men might be taking pics of his son inside that van. Hell, they could be doing almost anything to his kid in that van. He ejaculates as he thinks of his son being such a target for the mall chicken hawks - that knowledge alone will be fodder for his own jacking off sessions for years to come. And when dad "swings by later" to pick up his son, he wonders just how many men got into his kid's pants or down his throat that evening. He even tries to smell cum on his son's breath. After all, he dropped off his kid to get a belly load of the stuff if he wanted. Instead, his son starts talking about homework and the fact he's sort of hungry (to which dad smirks). Its just enough to know his son is doing it and that his own dad set him up right that pleases these fathers. Based on feedback from the first chapter of the story which follows, there are minimally, three-hundred and twenty (after considering some margin of error based on multiple identities writing, of course) - men all into the same "interests". Get these men around one picnic table or populating the sauna at the family health club and whoa! One can always figure out how many might be at a mall or a Boy Scout Jamboree. But you also have to wonder how many are at nightly Little League games or at school events or in the pews of church on Sunday mornings or at the miniature golf courses. You know they're there - and in silent droves. You know that if the family Y or water park is packed, there's more than a handful of them there, too. And in the park, how many are just playing Frisbee with their son and how many are hoping for more - a whole lot more? As a fan recently wrote to me: "Motherfuck, man, do you hit the "nail" on the head. Fuckin love reading your preface and nasty stories. You fuckin understand the wide spread twisted perversions that a large percentage of adult men share. Fantasy is the only and best way to relieve that tension. Thanks for providing it for us all. Nice to know I have millions of buddies out there that share this fuckin perversion. Maybe in your prefaces, you can suggest some kind of covert signal men can use to identify each other. Like a simple gesture like taking two fingers and running them up and done the pinkie on your opposite hand. If anyone else saw it, it would look like a quick scratch of an itch, but to other men, just a quick up and down once, would signal....."like the little fantasy too." Just a suggestion. Least you get to a lot of readers that would be interested in identifying each other." One's index and middle fingers of one's right hand slowly rubbing up and down the pinkie finger of one's left hand. Seems simple enough - especially when two or more men are in a place where it could all mean something. As "The Littlest Entrepreneur" continues, you'll see what can happen when dads and other men never get their signals crossed - signals never crossed only once they've been sent out, that is. The Littlest Entrepreneur Part 6 "Where's your little helper?", a tightly built older man in a casino jacket asked Stan. "Hey, Max. Who? Oh, you mean little Rudy?", Stan, the shoe shine man replied as he buffed a customer's oxfords, "He's not here today." The strong-jawed man was obvious as he tried to hide his disappointed. "Too bad", the mumbled. "When's he here then?", he asked. Stan smiled to himself knowing that Max, one of the sports book cashiers was a good buddy of Big Frankie. "His dad's got him working here only two days a week", Stan explained. "it's a lot for a kid in the second grade. So he's got him set up for a coupla hours after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays and then for a bit longer Saturday afternoons." "You got a second grader working the shoe shine here?", Stan's customer asked as he couldn't help but overhear from where he sat. "Yeah, well, I guess if your call it work", Stan said to the man with a wink. "What is that? Six? Seven years old?", the customer asked as he almost nervously scratched his crotch just a bit. "Working here in a casino?" "And in the men's room", Max added in a hushed voice. The man chuckled as he replied, "Hell, the way you say that, you make it sound as if the kid were in one of `dem stalls doing his work." Stan turned to Max and asked, "So, you were talkin' to Big Frankie, then, huh?" Max, glanced around some and said, "Yeah...any of it true?" Stan continued to buff the customer's shoes as he replied, "I never known Big Frankie to lie." "No shit then?", replied as his body tensed. "So what he said is word?" "Yup", Stan replied. "He gunna be here tomorrow you said?", Max asked. "'Bout what time?" "After school", Stan replied. "If you can hold out that long", he then added as he gave the man a quick glance to let him know that he noticed the nice fat lump inside of Max's trousers. Looking down at his own crotch, Max's face reddened slightly. "Hey, don't mention I was here to anybody, okay?", Max asked Stan. "I'll be back tomorrow afternoon, what? Three? The kid get busy fast?" "Make it four", Stan answered. "If he shows up, he might be in full swing by then. That is if he shows up." Stan then looked to his customer as he added, jokingly, "You know how the child labor is these days." As the two shared a laugh, Max thanked Stan and wandered back into the casino. And as soon as he did, the customer leaned forward in his seat and whispered into the side of Stan's head, "So what is the scoop on this second grader?" "What do you mean?", Stan replied feigning the very knowledge that his smile gave away. "Is it what it sounds like?", the broad shouldered man asked. "What's it sound like?", Stan returned the question. "Well, quite frankly", the customer said. "I mean, the way you guys were talking...sounds like he just might be working a stall back there." The man nodded his head toward the rest of the men's room as he spoke. "Does it?", Stan baited. "Well, yeah", the man replied. "I mean, I got kids that age and I can't think of any reason I'd have them working the public toilets in a casino. Is that even legal?" "Why? Are you a cop?", Stan asked jestingly. "No, I'm not a cop", the man laughed. "Its just a bit peculiar to have a seven-year-old boy spending his after school hours in a busy restroom, isn't it?" "You should get out more", Stan replied as he laughed. "I seen some toddlers in the men's room at the park near the airport that would make your hair stand end." "No, so come on", the man pressed. "What's a small child doing working here? Really." "He gives men a buffing ...for tips only", Stan replied. "His father set him up here - like a lemonade stand of sorts as he`s telling everybody." "In a fucking men's room?", the customer asked incredulously as he looked around. "Hell, that's a dad I have to meet. I would never in a million years stick my kid in a restroom." "Yeah, but it ain't your kid", Stan smiled. "That's the beauty part." "To get a kid who isn't your kid to polish your shoes?", the customer asked, clearly confused. "When did I mention shoes?", Stan replied. He then gave the man's shoe one final buff and tapped the side of his foot, the signal that the shine job was done. As the man stood up and reached for his wallet, he asked, "So he does more...this kid. Is that what I'm hearing?" "If you're in the casino tomorrow...", Stan began to say. "Yeah, we're here three days", the man interrupted. "I'm attending the Ford automobile dealers conference." "Yes", Stan said knowing the big events scheduled. "That officially starts tomorrow. Brings in a lot of men." "Yeah", it's a big one', the man replied. "I know the hotel is sold out or so I heard", Stan answered. "It could be", the customer replied as he handed Stan a twenty. "There's also a baseball thing going on, too." "Yeah", Stan clarified. "That's a two-day baseball camp that Hadrian's Palace is sponsoring. A few sports stars giving high rollers insider baseball tips." "I saw a sign for it at the entrance near the Reception desk", the man said. "Are Chipper Jones and Rusty Durkens really here at the hotel? Stan nodded as employees were always instructed not to discuss high profile guests openly. "Yup, both of them." "Very cool", the man replied. "I think Rusty Durkens might have even arrived a few days ago", Stan said in a quieter tone. "He`s a big gambler though - like Michael Jordan and Ben Affleck. These guys make millions in their contracts and then make millions more at the tables." "Or lose millions", the customer said. "I have done nothing but feed machines since I arrived. I keep saying to myself, `Why even play? I might as well just leave a fiver on each machine and walk away.' My wife hates when I come to these things in Las Vegas. She says I always lose the same amount that it would have cost to buy the kids textbooks and supplied for the whole school year." "She along for the trip?", Stan asked. "The wife?" "God no", the man replied. "it's a conference, meetings until three. And she hates flying anyway...hates gambling...hell, even hates screwing after four kids." "Sounds like you could use some perking up", Stan said sympathetically. "That or if you know of any ...fun", the man whispered as he looked at passers by over Stan's shoulder before trying to slip him another twenty. "No need for that", Stan replied. "I like helping guests whenever, however I can. What kind of fun you looking for?" At that the man jingled the keys and coins within his trousers right front pocket as he laughed, "Well, I know where the fun of the roulette wheel can be found. I was thinking something more geared to a man alone in the city...having a few days away from the old battle axe." Stan knew exactly what the man was asking. Many guests and even the local gamblers will ask their taxi drivers, valet parkers, the bell men, and even the shoe shine men about connecting them with everything from a strip club to a porn store to a "men's spa" to a hooker to some pot or more. And those workers usually know all the places where men can find a good and even perhaps a great time. Heck, Stan even thought of his buddy, Xavier, a Vegas cab driver who could never get over how many married men, as they'd lean back into the cab - while a wife would start into the hotel - and actually ask him where a porn theater, or even a gloryhole might be in town. He'd even see these same husbands maybe an hour or two later in the taxi line and he'd drop them anywhere from the big porn theater in town, "Steam Heat Adult Cinema" to "Vegas Knights", a huge gay bathhouse hidden behind an automotive repair center. These men are your real bulk of Las Vegas visitors, the regular guy, the family man, the man on a mini get away vacation. Despite the aura of Vegas being all about young single men partying with Jenny McCarthy and eighteen big titted bikini hookers all night, that's a far cry from that which men actually experience. Few men actually have hookers up to their room in a major casino hotel. And most don't have cars to troll for streetwalkers in the dangerous parts of town. Even if they bought a hooker's cunt for an hour, with a wife and kids in the room, they'd have nowhere to take them anyway. And these men, married or not, when they ask such a question, never seem interested in the mainstream strip clubs. Hell, few men do those places on their own. Those strip clubs are geared for buddies to have some drinks and laughs together or for crews of bachelor party revelers. They're just clubs, after all - bars with glitz and tits. But the tits are just decoration. And few men who are in town on their own - and certainly with the wife or girlfriend - want to spend hours at those places drinking alone. Besides, after a long Vegas casino day, sometimes meaning two full days of not having any real sex - what with all traveling to get there, the distractions of gambling, shopping and walking massive hotels, a lot of these men want to cum when the time comes. They're seriously looking for fun - of the ejaculatory kind. So, more often than not, you'll get a long string of men beating off at the urinals some afternoons in the casino men's rooms. Or you get them taking a cab to the porn theaters where, since they're so horny, they're busting the zipper of their slacks looking for quick head. Local cocksuckers can drain anywhere from ten to twenty such men per hour in those places. But as Stan sized him up, this man didn't seem to need any of that. He was married and on a convention. He could find any of those places on his own. And he may be meaning any sort of mainstream titillating fun - although he also seemed a bit too curious about what a little boy is doing in a men's room some afternoons... "What you fancy?", Stan, therefore, asked as he pointed to a chair when another man stepped up looking for a shine. "Anything", the man nervously chuckled. "To relieve...some pent up...tension. You know." Stan knew that any man who was so straight as to be upright or downright homophobic would never answer in such a broad manner. The uptight straight men, whether young single dudes or married cheaters, will almost invariably tag on, "You know, a chick though - I'm only into chicks, of course." But this customer, like a million others, hadn't added that disclaimer. When a man asks such a question, he's willing to bust a nut in just about anyone. "Well, if you're out of meetings", Stan offered, "Stop by here after three or so." The man grinned some as he replied, "I'll be sure to do that, too." Then, trying to remain obscure if someone might be listening, Stan simply said, "Have you been to Ganymede men's fitness center upstairs yet?" "No, where's that?", the man asked with a smile. "It one of those...you know, bath house places?" "Actually, its right here at Hadrians", Stan answered. "No," the man replied as he furrowed of his brow, as if he feared he came across as though he was seeking a mud bath rather some other variety of relief. But already knowing that, having suggested to hundreds of men before, Stan gave him a hint of a smile. "They'll set you up real good up there. it's the best sauna in the entire city. I think there's a fee buy I never had a man come back to complain..." And sensing that his shoe shiner had truly understood him, the man nodded and said, "Well, then, I'll have to try it." With that, Stan moved to his other customer as he watched the man wander away and back into the casino. "Good advice, bud. I was up there earlier", the new customer said. "Hot as hell." Stan looked up at the new customer sitting in his chair. He was a hot looking, exceptionally well built young man, wearing rather expensive casual clothes and donning equally expensive sunglasses that were propped up within his thick black slicked back hair. "Yes, I've heard it can be", Stan replied. The young man spread his legs a bit, as most customers did, in an attempt to get more comfortable. And as he did so, Stan could see that this young man seemed to be hung like a stallion. Even though his genitalia were contained inside light beige Prada slacks, his family jewels were wonderfully prominent the way they hung and bulged as he sat. Stan had seen many a man's crotch and could spot a well hung young man at a nod. Many of the older men would hang that way but when a man under twenty-five displayed such hefty wares, you knew he was a exceptionally well hung. And for a moment, Stan even wondered if this guy was perhaps one of the hundreds of male escorts who made the Vegas tourists - most often the married male Vegas tourists - his clients. But Stan knew most of the young male prostitutes at least by sight. And he'd never seen this one. "Yeah, it was a great time", the young man said. "That sauna is rockin'." "I've heard that", Stan replied with a smile. "So it did the trick for you, I hope." "Oh yeaaaahhh", the young man answered. "Hell, me and my buddies were at Glisteny Patch late last night and its nothing when it comes to...you know." Stan knew what the youth was trying to say. The enormous strip clubs were just that. They never came through for men when the time to cum came around. "So it was busy up there?", Stan asked. "I just want to make sure I'm not handing out out-dated advice", he added with a chuckle. "Its great advice, pops", the young man replied. He then leaned forward and nearly whispered, "I had fourteen hands on me at one time in that sauna." Stan made a whistling sound as he replied, "That's not surprising...seeing you're...well, you know what I mean." "Hands everywhere", the young stud answered. "And mouths...but not just on me...fucking hot up there at what? Like eleven in the morning. Seventy-five dollars for it, even though I don`t gotta pay that. But definitely worth it since it keeps the riff raff out." "Are you from Las Vegas here?", Stan ventured to ask since the young man looked like he could have been a performing in a show or was perhaps indeed an escort." "My parents have a house here, pops", the young stallion admitted. "But we live in New York mostly." He then leaned forward again and said in a hushed tone, "My papa is Gianni DiBianchi..." Stan, although trying to play it cool, nearly froze up upon hearing that name. He swiped the young man's Prada shoe and actually gulped as he asked, "The Gianni DiBianchi?" "Yeah, that's my papa", the young man with a sly smile as he tapped his free foot some. "I'm Gianni the third, or Lil'Gianni, they call me." Stan now knew who this young man was - even beyond the fact that his father owned interest in Hadrian's Palace as well as interest in half a dozen other casino hotels in both Vegas and Atlantic City. Lil'Gianni was the guy who... "Well, its good to meet you", Stan said with a grin as he proceeded to quickly become ever more careful with the shoes he was polishing. Lil'Gianni leaned forward again and whispered, "I didn't sit here just for a spit polish, pops...I heard you got a new kid working here with you. A real cutie...a real curious little guy." Even Stan had to think a moment, as he then remembered Mr. Marcione`s little boy. "Oh, Rudy, you mean." "Yeah", the stud replied with a nasty grin. "The kid whose mouth you blew a load into, in fact. The pit boss' kid...", Lil'Gianni said. "He around?" "No, no, not today", the shoe shine man replied, his face ashen although he couldn`t be surprised that a DiBianchi would know such a thing. Knowing he had no choice now but to cooperate fully, Stan nervously offered up, "He should be here tomorrow maybe." "Maybe?", the young stud asked sternly. "Well, you know a kid that age", Stan explained. "Who knows what they'll do. Maybe his mother doesn't want him coming back. Who knows with a little fellow." "Why don't we find out then?", Lil'Gianni replied as he pulled his sleek cell phone out of its belt holster, He quickly pressed speed dial and spoke to whomever answered, "Yeah, Louie, get me ...", he then turned to Stan again as he asked, "What's the name of kid's dad? The pit boss..." "Marcione", Stan said. "Antonio Marcione...everybody calls him Tony, though." Speaking into his cell phone again, Lil'Gianni said, "Louie, is Tony Marcione working now? No? When then? Shit, that late? ...Okay, then...listen, Louie. Get me Tony Marcione's home number. Get it now. I'll wait. Home or cell, I don't give a fuck." He then looked at Stan as he ordered, "Remember this...okay?" Stan nodded not even knowing what was being asked of him. "5...5...5", the young stallion said, he pointed at his shoe shiner, "1...9...6...9. Good, thanks Louie...and tell your wife she got a good man and to quit her bitching. Bye." Lil'Gianni hung up and told Stan to repeat the phone number he'd called out to him. And as Stan recited back to him phone number, the stud punched the numbers into his cell phone. "Thanks, pops", the stud said as he sat forward in his chair, apparently done with his shoe shine. Hearing someone pick up, he said, "Yeah, hey. Is this Tony Marcione's house? Yeah, who's this? Yeah, Mrs. Marcione, glad to tawk to ya. I'm John and I'm with Hadrian's Palace. Is your husband there? I know he ain't due into work till later tonight. No? Yeah, well, that sounds good. Yeah, I was out on Lake Mead myself yesterday. Uh, listen, Mrs. Marcione, maybe you can tell me. We were wondering if your son...", the young stud then momentarily pressed the mute button as he asked Stan, "What's the kid's name?" "Rudy", the older man replied in a whisper. Speaking into the phone again, Lil'Gianni continued talking to Mrs. Marcione, "Rudy...we were wondering if your son Rudy was coming back to work tomorrow? He`s probably still in school no, isn`t he?" The young stud winked at Stan as he listened to whatever the women was saying to him on the other end of the line. "Yeah?", Lil'Gianni said into the phone. "But he wants to come back. He told you last night, eh? That's real good to hear. He had real fun yesterday, eh? Glad to hear that, too. He's a little guy, ain't he? ...Just turned seven, eh? Yeah, well, that's good he wants to come back. So you'll have him here about three, three-fifteen then. Good, real good. Hey. The hotel will even be happy to arrange to pick him up after school. Anything to make life easier on you, Mrs. Marcione...yeah, well, think about it. Save you a trip. Tell your husband to let us know if you`d like the hotel to do that." He then listened some more to Mrs. Marcione before replying, "Oh, he's as safe as can be, Mrs. Marcione. You gotta know that, with your husband working here. I'm John...yeah, just tell your husband John White at the casino called. He'll know." And with that, Lil'Gianni grinned an evil grin as he hung up. "Your little assistant will be here after three tomorrow delivery time guaranteed by his own mother." As he spoke, he stood up and handed Stan a hundred dollar bill which Stan refused, "Oh, its free for you, Mr. DiBianchi..." "Take it, play a machine", the young stud replied, barely looking at the man. "Or buy your grandkids some candy. Or buy one of them a bib next time they get a visit from their perverted grappa, eh?" At that, the young man laughed and gave Stan a playful false punch to the shoulder. "You perv, you're a good man." He then walked off barely saying good bye to the older man. Stan stood there a moment wondering to himself, `Lil'Gianni DiBianchi...Jesus...sniffing around for Marcione's kid....holy fuck...I wonder if I should tell Tony Marcione...?" As he thought about what it all might mean, Stan was both disturbed and oddly turned on. The things he'd heard about Lil'Gianni and his father, Gianni DiBianchi, Sr.,, almost made the shoe shine man want to call Mrs. Marcione back and tell her not to bring their child the next day. But being the man he was, with his own perverted secret desires, Stan knew enough to let things play out as they're set up. Hell, who was he to prevent any man his fun? And so, seeing yet another man looking for a shine, Stan decided to toss off the worry as he returned to the job. `That's Marcione's problem', he thought to himself. `Hell, its his little boy. Nobody else's. No other man here needs to treat his kid like anything but what he is. And, hell, Marcione himself brought his kid into the toilets...he should have known that his kid's fair game to other men the minute they see where he`s working. Hell, what were they suppose to think when word about a kid like Rudy buzzes around Vegas' underground network of men like a flash fire. Let his daddy deal with whatever it was the DiBianchis wanted from his son.' Besides, although he felt slightly bad for Rudy, Stan was hoping to shoot more grandpa milk into the kid's mouth himself the next day. And he sure as hell knew that another handful of men had come around asking for the tyke. `Why ruin it for everyone just cuz Lil'Gianni DiBianchi is in the house?', he thought to himself. Chapter 7 On the large, cot-like bed laid a small boy flat on his back. He was naked although he seemed to wear a coating of something very slick, wet and shiny all over his small body. The child's hair was matted in the stuff. "Fuuuuuck", the surgeon said to himself as he quickly, nervously, slipped into Room Two on the Palace Player's Level. The moment the door shut, he quickly locked it behind him. The fifty-one-year old man stood at the foot of the sex bed, his erection throbbing even harder inside his trousers. He could barely regulate his breathing, he was so tense and excited. He'd never seen such a sight, never been so close to a naked eighteen-month old, never saw one saturated in what appeared to be semen. He thought the looming height and presence of another adult man might have scared him. But as the surgeon watched, the boy giggled and as he giggled, he gurgled up what was quite obviously more semen. The surgeon squeezed his own tenter as he swiveled his hips in lust. Here he was only seconds away from fulfilling that fantasy he's had since his own now college-aged sons were this little one's age. But this one here was for everyone's use - just lying there to be done as men see fit. No identities, no guilt, no bother. The middle-aged man said hello to the child but the tot didn't reply with anything but another semen gurgled giggled as he looked straight at the man's crotch. Then the child's small hands reached out as though, it seemed to the surgeon, he sought out and wanted more. And so the man decided to give the child more. He glanced at his watch and then at the clock on the wall. The wall clock had two times on its face - actual time and also a timer which counted down the player's minute points. The surgeon realized that he had only fifty-five minutes remaining with this little baby slut. And yet he shook his head as it also occurred to him that he had fifty-five minutes with such a baby slut. He never ever has an inkling he'd ever be in such a situation. But he strode right up to where the child was laying comfortably, and saturated head to toe in semen - some of it looking quite fresh and thick. Again, the man noticed that this boy's hair was so matted in semen that it almost appeared to be glued to his head. That made the man smile in lust as he found the sight to be both utterly perverse and yet, ironically sweetly charming. And the boy smiled back as he, again, reached out toward the man's crotch. "You want some more?", the surgeon gently asked in a whispered tone as though he didn't even want to hear himself ask such a small child such a thing. "You want another one, sweetie?" As he took another deep breath, the surgeon began to unbuckle his belt buckle. And as he did, he looked at the thick puddle of semen that collected around the boy's tiny genitals. `That's got to be his', the man thought to himself as he breathed in the semen-scent of the room. He looked at the copious amount of fresh semen as he said to himself, `It's got to be his...fresh load...its got to be Rusty Durken's fucking load.' And that made his cock bounce harder within the confines of his underwear even as he unzipped is trousers. As though looking for someone over his shoulder, he glanced around, not wanting anyone seeing what he was about to do - something he never thought he'd ever do. Hell, he was a straight, married man with grown sons. Sure he'd seen a gay blowjob here and there during his lifetime but he's never had such a thought occur to him ever before. But that's was MVP Rusty Durken's cum sitting there, puddled all over this little one. Rusty Durken, the most famous baseball player since Hank Aaron. He was actually going to be fucking something already full of Rusty Durken's nut sac load. And as he stood there, slowly masturbating over the child's head, he had to wonder how many loads the sports legend shot into this kid. `Too much semen all over him to be one load', the surgeon said to himself. He then glanced around and saw no evidence of a used condom. Heck, there wasn't even anywhere to have tossed a used rubber in the small room. As he casually allowed the wet, precum oozing corona of his cock to gently graze along the little one's nose, the baby boy himself reached out and took a hold of his thick shaft. The surgeon looked down and smiled at the boy who held his erection. And he whispered, "You like that, don't you? I bet you like all of them." He then leaned his body in as to lower himself slowly into the boy's mouth. It seemed that this little cumslut knew the drill and knew it well. It was like an electric shock to the man's nuts the moment he felt, saw...realized that such a young sex slut was suckling on his adult cock...just one more adult cock in the baby`s busy day. He was taken by the way the boy ran his tiny fingers along the thick shaft, which his fist could not ever begin wrap itself around - as if he were stroking it while he suckled and slurped up the dripping precum from the man's piss slit. Then the man did something - another something - he never in a million years ever thought he'd do - ever have the chance to do. He leaned even further over the tot and licked, hesitantly, upon the whole of the boy's genitals. He was on the verge of performing fellatio on a small child - he knew that's where it would lead. And secretly making it easier to rationalize, he told himself he was only doing it as a way to taste the reproductive juices of his sports hero, Rusty Durken. Here it was the first semen other than his own, that the surgeon ever in his life ever tasted - ever had the desire to taste - and it was that of his baseball hero. Hell, he'd even bought his one son, when was playing baseball in his final year of high school, a Rusty Durken poster for his room. And now here he was poised to eat the baseball star's sperm. The surgeon licked tentatively at the pitcher's fuck sauce and could taste its freshness. And he knew that Rusty had to have shot that stuff up out of his scrotum only minutes earlier. Knowing that, and loving his first sample of another male's ejaculate, the surgeon went hog wild on the boy's genitals. He tried to be as gentle as he could but he licked whole-tonguedly all over the boy's tiny erection and plump, semen-slicked scrotum. He felt the boy nursing on him as he lapped and licked between the chubby thighs, finding and slurping up even more semen. Heck, the vinyl mattress cover was slick and loaded in semen. But even the knowledge - that some of the semen covering this child was obviously that of other men who'd enjoyed this tiny sluts body - only fueled the surgeons hunger. As he sucked and licked he thought to himself, `Hell, what's wrong with me...this is too evil...too delicious...he looked down and saw the his own hairy scrotum sitting on the boy's forehead as he fed the child yet another big adult cock. And as he glanced at the clock again, he saw he only had forty-seven minutes left to do anything he wanted to this tiny one. He had so many thoughts and urges. The man figured he had to be capable of taking big cock if others had been using him all day. And he even figured that it made no sense to use a rubber. After all, it was abundantly apparent that no one else had. And besides, going to a draw and putting one on would waste a minute of quality time with the little cumpig. And the clock was ticking. In Room Five, two college dudes in their very early twenties were double-penetrating an eight-year-old girl. Asking her if she wanted a baby, as the sign over her cot clearly spelled out, the two young men tag-teamed her pussy each time they wanted to pump more cum up into her. "Princess wants to have a baby?", one asked her as he verged on climax. And the moment that she replied, "Yes, please make a baby in me", it made the dude lose his load deep inside her pink, puffy pussy. He pulled his big shaft out of her and his buddy immediately sank his raging boner into her cum-juicy cunt. He asked her the same thing, "Can I make a baby in you instead? Maybe my cum will knock you up". And as she gripped his athletic shoulders she replied, "Please make a baby in me. Please?" And his buddy, stroking her sweat saturated hair, said, "That's what he's doing, Princess...we're trying to help get you knocked up. We understand a lot of other men were in here today, too, trying to help get you knocked up, baby. Some man will make one in you... you just keep on letting us all try and it will happen." Down the corridor, in Room Eight of the Palace Player's Level, the New Zealand grandpa, known only as Mr. Auckland, already had his very thick, uncut cock deep up inside a boy who was on his stomach. The boy's torso and head were barely visible beneath the man who rutted and fucked him as he laid on top of him. "Grandpa's going to pump more and more seed into you, little fellow...how you like that?" The boy grunted a sexual assent as he lifted his small butt higher, as if begging for more cock and sperm to be fucked into his small frame. The older man's grey curly pubic and chest hairs tickled the boy but at ten, he was already well use to the feel of men's bodies. "You like being a buttwhore, don't you, boy?", Mr. Auckland stated as he roughly penetrated the lad. He allowed the boy to answer and the boy mumbled, "I live for cock and sperm to be shot into me, sir." "I bet you do...I know you do!", Mr., Auckland nearly grunted. "They told me how much has been pumped into you just today...you fucking little whore..." And just next door, in Room Ten, a very tall high school basketball coach from Des Moines, Iowa was sitting with his trousers off in a sex chair as he watched a four-year-old girl and her twin brother kneeling between his wide spread legs. He held his eleven inch shaft as to keep it standing up tall while he let the two simultaneously lick and suck up and down his cock and hairy scrotum. The man took turns whacking his heavy, long erection upon the out-stretched tongue of each child. With every tap and thump upon their small tongues, he watched as his precum flung some into each open mouth. TO BE CONTINUED... mghj4dads@yahoo.com Your comments, suggestions and personal experiences are most welcome. Dads especially are warmly invited to write of their "little secrets" . Just write to unload a secret. And heck, perhaps, your own dirty secret or deepest desire may even be shared later and with loads of other men (completely anonymously, of course) as it might appear in or be woven into a Mr. gloryholeJUNKIE chapter or story or its very own! Sorry but all e-mails with photo attachments will be discarded without being read.