Dads 'N' Lads

Episode XIV - Thirteen: My Two Dads

by Daddy.K

© 2017

 

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

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Story Code: MMMB/oral/anal/incest/piss

 

Knock. Knock.

A powerful feeling seizes John Lord. A terrific force crushes his chest. Energy surges through him. His cock lurches. He's no stranger to this feeling. It's the feeling that heralds hot sex. If you've never felt this feeling yourself, find a boy, cut him out of the herd, and run your hand lewdly up his thigh. You'll know what I mean.

"Get your ass in here, Garnett!"

The door creaks open. Officer Garnett enters. His big hand rests on Victor Franco's shoulder. The boy's lips, slightly pursed, twitch as Sheriff Lord's mammoth shadow falls over him. Lord grins like a lion who's just sighted choice gazelle, all alone on the savannah.

"Hello, Victor." Lord's voice is Barry White smooth.

Victor, gym bag clutched tight, glances around uncertainly. "Um. Hey, Sheriff."

Lord makes a motion. Snick. Garnett slides the lock into place. Victor jumps, and Lord grins. Lord likes 'em nervous. Especially the white kids.

"So, you know who I am, Victor."

"Well, yeah," says Victor. "You drive past the school every day."

The three black cops share a laugh. Oh yeah. They frequently cruise the succulent barely-pubescent flesh of Calhoun Middle School.

Victor's gaze detaches from the Sheriff's broad, hungry grin, then roams over his tightly stretched uniform. Victor would swear, if asked, that he saw Lord's boss muscles outlined in the fabric. Being a boy and unable to curb his instincts, his eyes flick to Lord's crotch and thighs. He swallows. Is it true what they say about black guys? Victor's heard the jokes the black boys make at school -- about how they need a third hand to hold their dicks when they piss. Heretofore, Victor's been too shy to dare ogle a black stud at the Harrison Pool or in the locker room at a competition. But bulges don't lie. Victor's tongue flicks over his lips. The shy lad smiles the sweetest smile you've ever seen. Wow. Sheriff Lord might be bigger even than Keith Peake's fantastic cock.

"I'm up here, kid," says Lord, easing his black obscenity forward, tantalizing the boy even more. His officers chuckle.

"Yeah, I know," says Victor. Still staring, he swallows. Did the Sheriff's cock just twitch?

"Look at me!" Lord barks. Even though Victor's naked lust gratifies Lord, it's nothing more than what the stud Sheriff knows is his due. What he demands -- especially from white kids -- is obedience, and the hot pubescent diver is royally fucking that up. "I said look at me, kid."

Victor's eyes remained fixed. A defiant grin appears.

"Kid, I don't take shit from your kind!" Lord nods to Garnett. The cop gently yet firmly takes Victor's chin and lifts the kid's face. The Sheriff and the boy diver trade smoldering looks. Lord won't admit it but his heart begins pounding. Sweat blooms in his armpits. This boy has got it. Lust crackles between the huge black man and the small white boy.

Lord sneers, "You're just like my own son. Can't get enough big man cock!"

"Um. Sheriff. Why did you want to see me?"

"Because, boy, I wanna fuck you!"

Victor's eyes flick south. "Wow. With that?"

"No, you stupid kid, I wanna fuck you with a motherfuckin' tootsie roll!"

"Um. I don't think I want that. Um. Do you have a big cock, Sheriff?" Victor bats his eyes. "'Cause I like getting fucked by big cocks." He grins. "Big cocks only."

"I got a huuuuge cock, kid," Lord growls. "Biggest cock in Chatauqua County. You think you can handle this?" His big paw grasps his bigger bulge.

"Maybe. I think so." But the naked hunger blazing in Victor's eyes means the boy's gonna take it no matter how much he must stretch.

"You will. It's gonna hurt --" Lord loves how Victor flinches "-- but this is going up your butt. You ready, Garnett? The Judge don't want any fuckups. He wants to see everything."

"Hey," says Garnett, displaying his phone. "It's me."

"Yeah, Garnett. It's you, and that's what I'm worried about. Sure as fuck, you ain't no Spielberg." Lord claps his hands twice. "Let's get the party started!"

The two cops sight their phones, tap the screens, and nod. They circle, videoing the black man and the little white boy.

"Filming a little CP," chortles the Sheriff, "makes John Lord happy!"

"What's CP?" quizzes Victor.

"Something there ain't enough of." Sheriff Lord eases his big butt onto the desk's edge. He pats his thigh. "Sweetie, why don't you come here and sit on the Sheriff's lap and tell him what you've been up to today?

Victor sidles forward, gazing uncertainly up into the Sheriff's eyes. This whole thing smacks of the scenarios they -- the community's goody-two-shoe-ers -- have warned him about: big, leering men wanting to touch him. But Lord radiates power, and that draws Victor deeper into Lord's deranged fantasy. Victor hops on Lord's lap.

"Hello, Victor," Lord purrs. Thick black fingers caress the boy's knee.

Victor's head spins. The lad's never been so close to a black man before. Lord's musk -- deep, all-mighty, pungent, spicy, overwhelmingly masculine -- intoxicates the boy. He begins panting. Squirming.

Lord, feeling the kid's hard butt on the long ridge of his cock, shudders. "Oh, that's nice, Victor. I knew you'd like this. Do you do this for Santa at Christmas?"

"Sometimes," Victor giggles. "If I really like him." He looks up and says in a small voice, "What are we gonna do, Sheriff?"

"We're going to make CP."

"So, what's that?" Victor asks, a little frustrated.

"We're gonna put on a show. A man/boy show. For a guy your father knows. You can trust me, kid. I'm the Sheriff. I know what's right and what's wrong." His fingertips brush under the hem of Victor's shorts. "And this is sooooooooo right."

Garnett and West move to flank the Sheriff. West captures Lord's demonic leer; Garnett frames up Victor's shy anticipation. Both phones pan down, showing Lord's black palm, resting in a very creepy spot: right on the inside of the kid's knee. West even zooms in to show Victor's shorts moving as Lord's fingers stroke him in the boy's forbidden zone. Both adjust themselves.

"You know something, Victor? The world hates it when black men get it on with white chicks. That's because they're scared. They know their women crave what we niggers got. But what they don't know is ... how much their little white sons want black cock up their tight white asses. Let me tell you something, kid. There's nothing hotter than when a big black man molests little white chickens. Am I right, guys?"

West and Garnett yelp agreement.

"What do you think?"

Victor shrugs. "I dunno. I've never done it with a black guy. See, my dad--"

Lord shushes the kid with a finger laid across the boy's lips. "Let me ask you something. You ever hear someone say once you go black, you never go back? No, no. Don't look at me! Talk to the camera, kid, talk to the fucking camera!"

Victor looks into West's phone and shakes his head.

Lord gently chucks Victor's chin. "Well, kid. You're gonna learn life's most important lesson."

"Is it fun?"

"Oh yeah," purrs Lord, fingertips creeping deeper into Victor's shorts. Instinctively the boy's thighs part, giving the boss man a clear road to glory. "Now. Pretty little white boy --" he leers into both phones "--you ever looked at a man's crotch?"

Victor brightens. "Oh yeah! All the time!"

"Have you looked at mine?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"'Cause it reminds me of Mr. Peake's!"

Lord laughs. "Yeah, he's got a big one for a white dude." Lord leans close so his lips hover inches from Victor's ear. "You ever look at your dad's crotch?" Of course, Lord knows what's been going on between Victor and Gene Franco. But the Judge really likes this game.

"Uh-huh!" Victor nods emphatically.

"Have you ever seen your dad's cock?"

"Yeah!"

"How big is it?"

"It's nowhere near big as Mr. Peake's!"

"What kind of cock do you like?"

"Big cock! I like big cock the best!"

Two things happen simultaneously. Lord's lips nuzzle Victor's ear, and his fingertips brush the lad's bulging briefs. Sizzling man/boy electricity runs from these two points of contact. Lord and Garnett capture the boy's moist lips as they part. They also capture the lust blazing in Lord's eyes.

"You like it when men touch you here?" Lord's fingers thrust into the moist crevice between briefs and satiny boy thigh.

"Uh-huh."

"You like it when men touch your underwear, kid?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Spread your legs, Victor. Show the camera how much you like me touching you in this nasty place."

Victor's legs part eagerly. It's an invitation, offered unconsciously and awkwardly ... the way kids flirt with adults as they frolic at a pool or at a playground or when they play-wrestle with you. Surely you've touched a boy, haven't you? I mean, if you're reading a story like this, surely you've dared to do something forbidden with a boy? Like copping an innocent feel of your son's butt. Maybe, like me, you've eased your swim trunks down to show off your thick pubes. If so, you've seen his natural response. His widening eyes. The way his back arches. Without the shame and fear he's been taught to feel, he responds with instinct.

Sorry. I went off on a tangent there. Obviously, Victor isn't innocent. He's a natural slut.

"That's nice," Lord croons. "Now look at me."

Victor looks. Lord's eyes glow against his coal black skin. The boy's lips part. Lord eases forward. The black man's lips touch the white boy's. Within moments, the white boy is cooing happily into Lord's mouth. The kiss I grows intense when Lord invades Victor's mouth with his tongue. The phones capture the bulging cheeks as Lord's tongue explores the boy.

Breaking the kiss, Lord turns to Garnett's phone. He grins. "Tastes like chicken!" His laughter booms.

"Uh, Sheriff," says Victor.

"What, boy?"

"You can touch me some more, you know, down there."

Lord's fingers, buried deep up Victor's shorts, vacate the crevice between boyballs and thigh and move over the swollen, pre-cum drenched cotton briefs. Victor, giggling, squirms. Then he sags against Lord's chest, lips parted and moist, wallowing in the pleasure as the big man fondles him.

Lord croons in Victor's ear: "Do you want to touch my cock?"

Victor nods eagerly.

Lord extracts his hand from the kid's shorts. "Hop up."

Victor leaps up. Lord stands, adjusting his belt. Victor's worshipful expression sends flames blazing along the Sheriff's spine. He looms over the boy, pushing his crotch forward.

"Touch my cock, kid."

Garnett's and West's phones track Victor's trembling hand. Victor reaches for Sheriff Lord's throbbing bulge. His palm curves to fit the fat tubesteak thrusting down Lord's britches. Victor's thirteen-year-old hand is not big enough to cup the Sheriff's monster. The cock twitches against the fabric.

"Yeah, kid," the Sheriff growls. "I like it when little white boys touch my big black cock!"

Victor snickers like a thirteen-year-old up to mischief. He reaches for Lord's belt buckle --

"No no," says Lord, intercepting the boy's hand. "You never touch a cop's belt without permission."

Victor's moist eyes gleam into Sheriff Lord's. "Can I touch your belt?"

Here's the most important lesson Sheriff John Lord learned as a boyfuckeing tight end. His face turns grave and serious, his voice very quiet. "Call me sir."

Meekly, Victor asks, "Can I touch your belt ... sir?"

"What will you let me do ... if I let you do that?"

"Anything!"

"Yeah, Anything. Good. Take my belt off, kid."

Victor licks his lips. With one hand -- he's gotta cup the Sheriff's big cock, right? -- he fumbles with the belt. The leather creaks, the chrome clinks, but nothing moves. Finally, frustrated, Victor lets go. Using both hands, he's able to work the leather tongue free. Victor yanks. Lord catches his belt as it slithers through the loops. He lays it, gun and all, on the desk. Victor reaches for Lord's straining fly --

Again, Lord catches hm. "Horny boy, aren't you?"

Victor nods. His eyes move up and down the unimaginable length of Lord's bulge.

"You white boys need black cock like a junkie needs horse!" Lord's eyes roam Victor's shirt. "Lift your arms."

"But I --"

"Do it!"

Victor doesn't understand that a pedophile needs to see an adolescent's torso just as intensely as a pubescent kid needs to see hairy adult cock. But he does understand a command. His arms rise. He looks as if he is about to dive. His shirttail rises, exposing a few inches of trim, flat, smooth waist. Of course, the two videographers zoom on that.

"Look at that, guys!" Lord grins from ear to ear. Once again, he feels like a god. This trim, V-shaped, sleek white athlete is his. Drawn by Victor's creamy skin, Lord's fingertips crawl across Victor's belly. The boy shivers as Lord slips his hands under the shirt. Black fingers pluck the boy's nipples. Victor's eyes flutter.

"Yeah, that feels good. I can tell."

Victor nods.

The Sheriff's eyes fix on Victor's lips. So, tender, soft, and inviting. How wide can they stretch? Sheriff Lord yearns for a good kiddy cocksucker, but, like Keith Peake, his massive dong makes this a hard pleasure to find. Lord pinches and twists Victor's nipples. The kid gasps and, giggling, tries to twist away. Lord clamps Victor's nips tight between thumbs and forefingers.

"You're not going anywhere. You're mind."

"Can I see your cock, sir?" Victor begs.

"Wait for it." Lord turns to West's camera and laughs into the lens. "I got this problem, Judge. See, all these white boys go right for my nigger cock! And all I wanna do is stroke 'em. Pet 'em. Make my little white boy burr!" He winks.

Lord's fingertips slide down Victor's torso. Lord takes the shirt's hem and lifts. Once again Victor's shirt sails through the air. Lord slips fingers into the waistband of Victor's shorts. The kid trembles, eager to be stripped. Lord undoes the kid's fly. Victor, overstimulated, bounces from one foot to the other.

"Hurry up! Hurry up! Take 'em off, sir, take 'em off!

"Settle down." Lord peels open the fly. His eyes fixate on the wedge of exposed brief. Like a dragon working up to a good blast, his breath begins whistling in his nostrils. He slides down the kid's shorts. Garnett and West track the fabric as it slithers into a pool at Victor's feet. Then the phones travel slowly over Victor's ankles, calves, knees, and thighs, fixating on the boy's five-inch erection dancing against the precum -stained briefs.

Lord whistles. "Horny, huh?" His thumbs stroke Victor's briefs, moving alongside the throbbing dick but not touching it.

"Um-hmm."

"You sexy kid," Lord purrs. "You just don't know how sexy you really are. Hell, Victor. Every stud in town has wanted to tap your fine ass for years!" He winks. "Bet you've been busy today."

Victor nods. His hips roll and twist, trying to move his straining hardon so the Sheriff's fingers will fondle it.

"Look at that," murmurs Garnett, tightly zoomed on the Sheriff's fingers fondling the thirteen-year-old's goods. "That kid just got it on with some Aryan-looking punk down at the park, and he's ready for it again."

"That's why molesting kids is the best. That's why we gotta teach 'em to live for fucking!" Lord cocks an eyebrow at the grinning, writhing lad. "An Aryan? What was his name?"

"I didn't ask." Victor brightens. "But he had lots of tattoos! And a really big dick!"

"Hah! A horny kid like you ain't never gonna ask who's fucking him! You just need cock."

"Yeah! Can I please touch yours, Sheriff? You're driving me crazy!"

"Do it! Do it, kid. Touch my big nigger cock!"

Victor pops the buttons of Lord's fly. The zipper slides down. The fabric cracks open. Victor's jaw drops.

No underwear, naturally. What's exposed is the base of Sheriff Lord's godlike instrument. Black and shiny as crude oil, it is thick as both of Victor's bunched fists. A nest of thick, tightly curled, night-black moss hugs the shaft's base. Raw, potent musk flows from the Sheriff's crotch, filling the air with the narcotic scent of a black man's lust. Everyone is now clear, on an instinctive, primitive level, about who's the Man here.

Victor's head spins. "Wow, Sheriff! It's huuuuuuge."

"No shit. You gonna pull it out or what?"

Hands trembling, Victor pulls down the britches. Inch after inch of black cock, greasy with pungent oils, emerges, pressed tight to Lord's powerful thighs. The boy watches, awestruck. The ginormous black shaft grows thicker. Can it be? It looks thicker than Keith Peake's boyfucker -- and that meat has dominated Victor's dreams ever since Coach Dusker's sex ed class! But what's really fucking with Victor's mind is the sheer number of inches he's exposing.

"Be careful," warns Lord. "Don't want to knock you cold when it pops out!"

Sage advice. The mighty shaft springs up the instant Victor draws the britches below the cockhead. The damn thing must weigh ten pounds -- but little white boys turn Sheriff Lord on something fierce. The massive black meat slaps Lord's chest once, then topples, bobbing and swaying, always trying to snap up but way too heavy to succeed.

"Big, ain't it?"

Trying to clear his mind, Victor shakes his head. Surely this sexy man's smell is making him hallucinate. No human cock can be this big, can it? Only horses, and elephants -- and blue whales! -- could sport a monster like Sheriff John Lord's obsidian kidfucker.

Fourteen inches of solid black cock.

Lord's massive chest thunders with his racing heartbeat. Fuck, he gets off on the look on kids' faces when he shows off his cock. His fists bunch. He eases his gigantic cock towards the white boy. "I got a big dick, don't I, kid?"

"Oh, my God." murmurs Victor. He sinks to his knees.

Two cameras track the boy's face. Two cameras capture his rapture. Even though they've seen moments like this time and time again, West and Garnett trade high-fives.

"Bigger than your dad, right, boy?"

Victor doesn't hear a word. He tries the impossible. Mouth gaping like a shark's, he lunges. Two cameras capture the struggle of a thirteen-year-old white boy attempting to swallow John Lord's cockhead.

Lord folds his arms across his chest, watching Victor slobber mindlessly on his cockhead. Then he looks directly into Garnett's phone. "Heh. This always happens, don't it, Judge?" He winks. "Want some cheese, boy?"

Victor eyes lift to meet the black man's. He nods.

Lord skins his foreskin back, exposing the steaming head. Thick clots of cockcheese spatter it. Victor's tongue lashes the head, scooping up the delicious treasure. The Sheriff smirks down at the white kid worshipping his black master.

"Yeah, lick it up, little chicken, it's tasty and it's good for you!" Lord chortles. "You poor kid. Your Dad ain't got nothing on me! Enough! You got all the cheese. Now. Lick the shaft, boy. Lick that shaft all the way down to my goddamned nuts."

Chest swelling against his shirt, Lord watches the boy. Victor anoints the giant black shaft with spit. The lad's tongue paints a saliva trail down the Sheriff's urethra. The kid's tongue is tiny in comparison to Lord's gigantic shaft. Victor licks, slow as a glacier, to Lord's fur-studded balls. The steamy funk wafting from Lord's groin maddens Victor. Growling, the boy slurps the giant spheres, brimming with the seed he needs. Victor tries to swallow one but chokes on it.

Lord laughs, watching the kid try to guzzle his nuts. "Silly kid! Hey, Garnett! Turn that fucking camera up here!" Lord leers and winks at Garnett's phone. "Judge, the kid's a natural!" Sheriff Lord's eyes narrow to slits. "Oh yeah! You gotta feel this, man -- oh, Victor, are you licking me there 'cause you love me? -- yeah, Judge, this boy's mouth is honey but wait till you see that ass! You gotta get yourself some!"

Lord's eyes turn hard and commanding. Garnett's phone follows them, tracking down Victor's back. The boys' cleft is exposed by his briefs. A lion-like growl rumbles from Lord. Temptation, man. A sliver of exposed boybutt is what Lucifer uses to lure men into a live of ecstatic depravity.

"Come on, Judge! Watch me get a piece of that!"

"Yeah, Sheriff," growls Garnett. "Get this party going! Get this kid pregnant!"

Lord hooks his hands under Victor's armpits and hauls the boy to his feet. Victor's eyes flash at the black man towering over him. He wipes his lips. Clearly this kid is hot to be bred. Needs inches plugging his tight, underage butt. Lord spins Victor around.

"Look at that, Judge. Look at it! Diver's got the hottest butts -- and, fuck, boy divers are the best!"

Lord's big paws knot in the boy's briefs, kneading the kid's ass. He whistles.

"Rock hard, Judge! Rock hard!"

Victor's eyes smolder over his shoulder. Biting his lip, he bends forward slightly. The boy knows how to invite men to the best party in town.

"Take my underwear off, Sheriff!"

"You bet, boy!"

Victor coos as the Sheriff slips his briefs down.

"Aw man. Aw man. Would you look at that!" Lord gazes at the exposed spheres. A pedophile as rapacious as Sheriff John Lord has seen a lot of tender, immature butt over the years. But never anything so succulent, so sculpted, so dimpled. Lord's hand tremble with anticipation as they cup Victor Franco's sweet ass.

"Get down there and focus on that, you jackasses!"

Garnett and West kneel, zooming in on the sight. Black fingers caress an immature white butt. Pure fucking heaven, man. Pure fucking porn heaven.

Lord peels open Victor's crevice, exposing the hole. His whistle pierces the steamy air. Lord grins. "Sweet!"

Garnett guffaws. "Look! Still slippery from his last guy!"

Lord circles his forefinger on Victor's glistening ring, watching it tremble and purse. Man, this kid has been fucked. The rubbery pucker sears his fingers.

"That Aryan guy cum in your butt?"

Victor nods eagerly. "Oh yeah. It was a gusher!" He giggles. "I can still feel it. And, you know, all the other guys who did me."

"Not wet enough. West! Get the damn --"

But West is way ahead of his Sheriff, having plucked the Sheriff's personal lube from his desk. The bottle tumbles through the air. Lord snatches it and uncaps it. He pours a line of lube on his shaft.

"You don't need to get it that slick, Sheriff," says Victor.

"You greasy from cum?" says Lord, still lubing up. He's dealt with overeager boys before.

"I'm really sloppy, Sheriff."

"Well, kid, I wanna finger your butt."

The man and the boy stare at one another as Lord smears more lube on Victor's waiting butthole. Victor whimpers. The Sheriff pokes a finger into Victor's socket, twirls it around, and pops it into his mouth.

"Can't taste no spunk, kid. Where are you hiding it?"

"Way up there! For Da."

"Let's find out how deep."

Lord kneels. For a few sweet seconds, he savors the sight of Victor's cheeks. The kid still smells of chlorine from his time at the pool. But there's another smell present. A subtle scent only a stud's nose can detect. The smell of a thirteen-year-old boy in heat.

"Fucking white meat! Tasty!"

Lord buries his face between Victor's buttocks.

"Oh!"

Victor's head pops up. His hands ball into fists. A soft grin lights up his face. He grinds his smooth buttcheeks against Lord's face.

"Stick some more of it up me, Sheriff!"

Lord's tongue probes deep. His chuckle is muffled by teenaged assflesh. Once again, West and Garnett split their efforts. West focuses on Victor's ecstatic face, while Garnett captures the image of a black stud slurping on a tender white ass. Victor shudders.

"More, Sheriff! More!"

Lord's jaw works. Is he drinking all that goo Victor's got tucked away in his chute? His big hands work his mighty meat as he tonguefucks the lad.

"Yeah," says Lord, standing. "This boy's been fucked! I can taste used pussy." He pats the boy's butt. "But you weren't kidding. Can't taste no dudes cum! You got all that seed tucked away for Gene??

"Yeah!"

Lord ruffles Victor's hair. "Gonna give you some more!" Lord hefts his big balls. You can almost hear the spunk sloshing. He kicks off his boots, slips off his trousers, and shrugs off his shirt. The adoration in Victor's eye- brings a grin to his face. "You like?"

"Uh-huh!"

"Wanna ride, kid?"

"Yeah!"

"Let's play merry-go-round!" Lord eases his big, muscular butt onto the edge of his desk. His massive cock, far too heavy to stand upright, topples over his left thigh. "Come on, Victor. Come ride the black stallion!"

Grinning, Victor interlinks his fingers with Lord's. The big man helps the boy climb into his lap. West and Garnett scurry into position -- Garnett focusing on his Sheriff's crotch, West zooming on Victor's dreamy face.

Staring into Victor's eyes, the Sheriff growls, "Hold my cock up. Son."

Son. Victor shudders. Wow. What a magic word. Wouldn't it be awesome to be this man's kid? Get stuffed with this giant cock every night? Victor grasps Lord's fourteen-inch-cock. More inches than the boy has years! The monster's too thick for both hands to encircle. Garnett zooms in on Victor's hands, pale against the black prong. The meat's heavy. Victor's biceps bulge as he struggles to hold it vertical.

"I wish I could cum!" Victor says. "I've been trying to cum all day!"

"You get all my big dick up that tight bubble butt, Victor, and you'll cum like fireworks!"

Garnett's eyes laser on Victor's globes. His tongue swipes Victor's taut butt. Tasty. He wants more ... who wouldn't? But that's all he can do. Right now, he's got some child pornography to video.

"OK. Sit down on it. Sit on my cock, son!"

Victor squats. He tries to fit Lord's cockhead into his crack. But it's like sitting on a miniature stool. Victor strains and squirms. At last it pries open his socket. Victor grins, feeling the bead of prcum on Lord's cockhead dissolving into the lube coating him back there.

"Now go easy, boy. Go really easy. 'Cause if you don't, I'll fuckin' cripple you!"

Victor heaves a sigh, relaxing. He sphincter spasms. He sinks down a millimeter or two. But his hole baulks, spitting out the little bit it's absorbed. He tries again with the same result. He's not even getting half of the big black cockhead into his hole. Not even a quarter of it.

"It won't fit!" Victor whines.

"Let's make it fit! You and me, kid! Man and boy!"

One big hand clamps Victor's shoulder. The other seizes Victor's waist. Lord strains. The Sheriff's muscles surge under his skin. The kid corkscrew his butt, trying to impale himself, but it's Lord's thickly muscled arms which get credit for the victory.

Victor's eyes snap open. "Yipes!"

Let's zoom down, between Victor's smooth thighs, and look up into the socket tucked behind is snug little ballbag. Yep. Look at that arm-thick shaft of boyfucking nigger meat, wedged into the crevice. Only half the Sheriff's cockhead has slipped up there, but it's enough to get the lad's attention.

"Come on. Breathe, kid, breathe! Yeah! Loosen up! You're gonna love this!"

Pity Victor' Franco's abused anus. It's never, ever been opened so wide. Victor gargles, head lolling, eyes spinning. Onward the head comes. It feels like someone's stuffing an eighteen-wheeler into a garage sized for a SmartCar. For the first time in many years, Victor Franco feels pain. Dread. Fear. Is this cock, sliding into his guts, going to split him open?

"Zoom in on his face, guys!"

The kid, thighs straining to hold him aloft, bites his lip. There's a pensive look on his face. Maybe's his bit off more than he can chew. But can he -- held in place by Lord's immeasurable power -- back out of this? He looks at Sheriff Lord, hoping to see solace in the man's eyes.

But lust blazes there, demented and crazed.

"Ow! Ow! Ow! I can't take any more!" Victor cries.

"You got a lot more to take, cracker!"

"Help me!"

There's a lewd squelch as Lord's cockhead forces its way inside. The kid's ring strains and purses, struggling to eject the monster. Nothing doing, man. Lord's in the sweet spot, and the three black cops in the room know it.

Let's check out the view on Garnett's phone, zoomed in on the stretched, rubbery juncture between a man's strength and a boy's hunger. Nice view. Giant nigger cock forcing its way up underage white as. Perfect child porn. Now let's check out West's viewfinder. Did you cream like me? Yep, that open-mouth shock on Victor's face will make anyone juice.

"Here I come, kid!"

The Sheriff's stomach ripples as he thrusts. An inch of black meat sinks in. Every crinkle in Victor's ring is smoothed out into a greasy, shiny, purple rubber band.

"Ow!"

West sniggers. "I think you killed him, Sheriff!"

Victor's sphincter quavers. The boy twists, trying to tear himself free. Lord's arms win out. Victor remains impaled. Lord's smiling the world's most demented smile. 'Cause there's nothing finer than feeling a kid trying to escape his destiny: to be invaded by your gargantuan manmeat. Fuck, if Lord doesn't live for this! The tears glimmering on Victor's lashes only egg Lord on.

"Just ride it on down! Come on! That whore ass of yours needs what I got!"

A sigh hisses from Victor. The kid gives in to the inevitable. His thighs relax. Gravity drags him down. The succulent kidbutt sinks towards its destiny: a tightly curled patch of kinky black hair.

"Come on, boy!" growls Garnett. "Come on! You can take it all!"

"Ow!"

Lord roars, "Yeah! Take it, boy!"

Victor, chest heaving, gazes through a red fog of pain down at the man's chiseled body. Bright lights flash before his eyes. Yes, it hurts. It hurts worse than when his Da deflowered him so long ago. But ... it's going in. The worst part is over -- isn't it? Victor can handle the width. But can he take all fourteen inches? He's just a thirteen-year-old boy.

"I -- I -- can't!" Victor babbles.

"You will," growls Lord, snapping his hips.

The kid moans. Victor's thighs strain, struggling to ease the pain in Victor's rectum. They strain, but the well-greased slide towards destiny continues. Victor's butt has a mind of its own.

"It hurts!" Victor wails. He twists. Both cops capture the swaying of his butt as the giant cock sinks another half-inch.

"Come on! Be a big boy and take my cock!" Lord leans back, propping himself on his elbows, staring down his boss body at the hot, steamy space between his groin and Victor's ass. Tossing his head, he grins. Yeah. He lives for these moments: the moment when the boy victim of his pedophile lust begins to realize he's a slave to giant nigger cock.

"Please!"

"Come on! Kid, I need some more, and you're gonna give it to me!" Lord winks at the camera. "Judge, this is the best I've ever had!"

Victor sighs meekly. He sags over the man. Half the obsidian log disappears into his most intimate space. Expressions flow across his face. Pain. Joy. Agony. Deranged lust. Swallowing and gasping, his eyes lock with the Sheriff's.

"I think I can take some -- oof!!"

Lord's lunge cuts off Victor's admission.

"Yeah -- feel it going up you? Think about it, kid! Think about my cock. There's so much of it. And you're going to get every damn inch of it!"

"How much, Sheriff?" he croaks.

"You got about eight inches. Just another six to go."

Eight inches. That's two more than Da. If he can get just another four up there, Victor'll feel the same kind of pleasure Jesse Peake's known for years. He relaxes a bit. The thought of Keith Peake's footlong cock soothes the boy.

"It's going in!" cries Victor.

The diver shudders. his iron-hard dick spits up precum onto Lord's belly. Moist squelching emanates from his crevice as he at last begins sinking, a quarter-inch at a time, on Lord's obscene kidfucker. The invasion's pace grows as Victor's hunger takes control of his soul. Inch after inch of ebony cock vanishes into the hairless white boy's guts.

Lord's eyes spin. His tongue swipes his lips. Fuck! Victor Franco's famous boyglobes are guzzling his shaft!

"Take it all, kid!"

Victor's thirteen-year-old butthole swallows the last bit of the Sheriff's childfucking prong.

"Feel my pubes?"

Victor, staring up at the ceiling, nods. The videographers swoop in, recording the sight of crinkling pubes against pubescent white ass. God knows how much outrage will flow when this video leaks!

Lord feels like a god. Because he can see the outline of his cockhead pressing into Victor's abs. Fuck! That's when you know a boy has taken all you got to give.

"Whew" says Victor. Bouncing like a tyke on a hobby horse, he grins down at Lord. "You got a big cock, mister!"

Lord's eyes smolder at Victor. "You're a hungry boy, Victor."

Victor's eyebrows waggle. "I need cock!"

"What kind of cock?"

"Big cock!"

Lord's eyelids flutter. "How many guys have juiced you? I can feel it."

Victor giggles. He grinds his tail. The stirring of that huge meat makes him feel possessed by God. "it's a secret!" His voice drops to a whisper. "But it's a lot!"

"Let's fuck, boy!"

There's a fiery look in Victor's eyes -- the fiery look of a boy who's just won an awesome victory in a game's most difficult level. If Victor Franco can take fourteen inches of black cock up his tight chute, Victor Franco can take on anything!

Victor's gaze travels over Lord's torso, inspecting the big pectorals, the long, chocolate nipples, the hard belly framed by Victor's straining thighs. Lord grins, flexes his chest, and hunches up at the boy, stirring his cock in that tight rectum.

"Yeah," Victor purrs, grinding his smooth buttcheeks against Lord's crispy pubic hair.

"Ride my horse, boy!".

The kid's thighs ripple from effort. Slow as a hot air balloon ascending on a cool, misty morning, his butt lifts. Lord groans. An inch of his thick child molesting cock, gleaming with lube, squelches free between Victor's buttcheeks. Victor, feeling as if his internal organs are being sucked out of his body, shudders.

"Sorry," he moans. "I gotta have it in me!"

He plops down. A loopy, cross-eyed smile appears on his face. Wanna see that expression yourself? Stuff a thirteen-year-old boy's ass with your mancock and you'll know what I'm talking about.

"Ride me, kid. 'Cause if I gotta do it, I'll fucking break you!"

Once again Victor's thighs struggle. The shaft seems at home up his ass; it's almost as big a fight to extract it from his gooey chute as it was to stuff it up there. Victor groans. Has Lord's fuckshaft swollen? It sure feels that way. His butthole open's like a morning glory's petals as the fat shaft emerges.

"Oh yeah," purrs West, zoomed in on the juncture of fat nigger cock and tight white boy ass. "That's primo, man! Fucking primo!"

Lord grins. He watches his huge meat slither out of the kid's ass. "That's it, Victor! Come on! Keep going!"

Victor's ring spasms on every millimeter, caressing the adult's massive shaft with a loving touch only a pubescent boy's anus can render, as half the shaft slips free. The hollowness is too much. Gasping, Victor plunges back down, taking it all on one powerful gulp. Did Lord's cock just stab the back side of his sternum? It sure as fuck felt like it. Sighing, Victor swishes his butt.

Lord's eyes blaze. "Stop screwing around! Fuck my cock, boy!"

Victor giggles. "Yeah! Let's fuck, Mr. Sheriff!"

Victor leans back, resting his palms on Lord's knees. This posture gives Lord an awesome view of his child molesting cock, stretching the kid's anus into a hollow cavern hungry for a good drenching of spunk. Victor's move screws up West's and Garnett's view, so they shift positions nearer to Lord's head to shoot angles revealing everything. This will allow the Judge, later when he masturbates, to see Victor's strong thighs ripple with effort as Lord's gargantuan meat slurps out. The boy's ramrod dick points north, and his smooth balls are tight as a stuffed purse, and his abs work as he bucks on the gargantuan black shaft.

Even though both accomplices have filmed the Sheriff's countless exploits with boys and teens, they still stare in awe at Victor's distended butthole. The damn thing stretches wide as a saucer. The boy's tenderized anus frigs the flared edge of Lord's cockhead, gobbling on it like a toddler sucks on a Sourball.

Lord sights down his torso. "Nice work, kid. Now get back on it, and give me a little shimmy while you slide!"

Victor's hips twist, lewd as a stripper, as he sinks down. Lord's meat swivels in his butthole. It's too much! His self-control gets lost in a fogbank of pleasure, and he drops down the last eight inches in one ecstatic swoop. If this were a cartoon, twittering birds would circle Victor's head and provide a compliment to his slack-jawed amazement. As it is, only a thin strip of precum across his belly shows what Victor just felt.

"Ride me, cowboy!"

Victor flails his butt up and down. Sometimes he lavishes attention on all fourteen inches, his spasming anus squirming on every millimeter of the Sheriff's cock as he churns up and down the shaft. Other times the kid concentrates on one region. Victor likes riding the upper four inches the best, because that allows the flared cockhead to scrape the backside of his prostate and the widest part of all that shaft to stretch his ring to bursting.

"Oh, fuck, kid! Do it!"

Lord can't take it anymore. His hips lunge upward, stabbing into the kid. The desk hammers. Men are just as much a prisoner of instinct as boys. They need to fuck, and when the time is ripe, nothing can stop them.

Pleasure quashes all Victor's thoughts. What had been a graceful rise-and-fall on the man's meat turns jerky and spasmodic. His little dick, whipped by sensations streaming from his chute, strains. Sometimes a little precum dribbles down the shaft, oozes over his smooth balls, and drips to Lord's heaving belly. The huge thing, slithering in him, will surely be the first cock to make him explode the way Jesse Peake does!

The only blight on Victor's pleasure is a twinge of anger. At Da, of all people. Da should be hung like Sheriff Lord! All fathers should be hung like Sheriff Lord, especially if you're a boy like Victor Franco.

Victor's beginning to realize what Da's tight control over his naturally exuberant sexuality has caused him to miss. If it hadn't been for Da's stupid rule about not fucking other men, Victor Franco could've been riding giant prongs years ago!

Fuck! Lord, feeling the mercury rise, groans and sits up. He doesn't want to blow his wad too soon, especially since this is being recorded. He'd be the laughingstock of the Chatauqua County pedophile ring. He grabs Victor's bucking hips, trying to slow the hungry boy. The hot young slut doesn't get the message. His trim, pubescent butt flies up and down Lord's shaft.

"Slow down, kid!" Lord gasps.

Victor, eyes the tiniest of slits, tongue darting from side to side, lips parted and moist, says nothing. Intent on the ball of pleasure he feels growing inside of him -- surely the swelling ecstasy will punch something out of him -- he continues to fuck himself silly. His little dick beats a tattoo on his belly.

"Stop!"

"I don't want to, Sheriff," the boy croons. "I like your meat. I like it a lot!"

"You little cracker whore, you're gonna do what I say!"

Lord brings his bone crushing strength into this game. His biceps bulge. Not even Victor Franco's innate sluttiness can resist this. Fully impaled, Victor squirms in Lord's lap. Lord's balls are in an uproar, and his eyes are bloodshot like an enraged lion's.

"I wanna fuck, Sheriff," groans Victor. The kid looks sly. "I want your nigger baby." He giggles, having dared to say that forbidden word.

"Kid," breathes Lord, "I guarantee you an assload of nigger babies. But you gotta slow down."

Victor looks pouty, slowly grinding his slut butt. The giant instrument twirls in him. His five-inch boy dick leaps and bounces against Lord's belly. Garnett and West murmur. Garnett focuses on the hazy-eyed hunger on Victor's face while West captures the battle on Lord's.

"Fuck, you little slut! I'm gonna breed you, kid!"

A few frames of Victor's smug triumph are recorded before Lord whirls the lad one hundred and eighty degrees. Moist squelches emanate from the illicit man/boy junction. Lord's jaw drops because the twist almost makes him juice the kid. Shuddering, he pulls back from the brink.

Lord's big paws lift the kid, hoisting him up until the lad's anus suckles on the man's cockhead. Lord lets the boy drop down his shaft. Man and boy oomph. Now that Victor's got the idea, his wantonness reasserts itself. He bucks up and down, eyes closed, concentrating on the sensation of that giant cock prying him open. Lord, too, drifts off onto a pleasurable ocean, where young white boys frolic naked in farm ponds, on wrestling mats spread in elementary school gyms, at the beach, on playgrounds, each one dreaming of the day when they can crawl into a black god's bed and find out which race is the master race.

"Jesus," says Garnett, focused between Victor's parted thighs and groping his bulge, "that's the bomb!"

There's no image more powerful than that of a tiny anus stretched by an almighty shaft, and when that image is framed by a boy's hairless thighs and crowned by his hairless ball sack and tiny erect dick, it's fucking pedophile heaven.

Lord, chest heaving as victor's insatiable butt slamfucks his shaft, groans: "Christ, Garnett, I got a white boy on my rod! Don't you think I goddamned know that?"

The man's swollen nuts fill the sweaty space between his thighs. The creamy curve of the boy's butt strains to reach the pulsating obsidian spheres.

West's camerawork has degraded. He's been filming Lord's scrunched up face, Victor's slack-jawed wide-eyed amazement, sometimes snap-panning between the ecstatic pedophile and his ecstatic victim. West is desperately horny. He wants to know if this hard-bodied white kid with the sculpted butt can take two giant nigger prongs up his sluthole. He's seen the secret video of a fifteen-year-old Justin Bieber doing it. But what about a thirteen-year-old?

"Come on, Sheriff," West whines. "I can't wait!"

Lord's paws grope Victor's chest. He pinches the lad's nipples, grinning as the sensation triggers a spasm in Victor's tight asshole.

He shouldn't have done that!

"Fuck!"

Lord's urethra throbs as he unloads into the boy. Garnett's camera catches that, and the frantic milking of Victor's childish anus. West's camera catches the ecstasy on Victor's face as the lad feels the big black stud's first gush of seed shoot up his guts. Lord roars, rolling from hip to hip, his big arms crushing the little boy to him. The stud fires gout after gout of spunk into the space God built for it: a boy's tight butt.

Victor's little dick quivers. Strains! His fists bunch. His abs quiver. His head falls back. His jaw drops. Is the lad going to shoot?

Nah. The moment passes. No camera catches the flash of disappointment that crosses Victor's face.

What the fuck is missing? What magic ingredient isn't part of this mix? Why can't' Victor juice like Jesse Peake?

Lord sags, balls drained. He topples back onto his desk with a crash.

"Fuck! Little white boy wore me out!"

Garnett and West thumb off their phones. The cops slip them into their pockets. The precious footage will be edited later today. The Judge will have it by tonight.

Victor struggles to get off Lord's laugh. Even though the man's cock is going slack, it's not easy for the boy to draw himself free. The organ stretches like a tentacle. It pops free and, no, not a drop of spunk escapes.

"Thanks, Vic." Lord reaches for his shirt. "Keep an eye on your bedroom window. I might be paying you a visit some night. Don't tell your Dad, you hear?"

"Um, well, I gotta tell him what we just did but I won't tell him what we're gonna be doing!" A wet, bubbling noise emanates from Victor's cheeks as he reaches for his briefs. Still not juice. It's just air. Victor's hand never reaches his underwear. West grabs his wrist.

"You're not done, boy," murmurs West. "Hop back on that desk. Yeah. On your back. Lift your legs."

"Cool!" Victor does as commanded. He grins at West, lifting his legs and folding almost double. "Like this?"

West, eyes focused on Victor's bruised ring, lowers his fly. "Just like that, little cracker."

Lord zips up. "Have fun, boys, but don't break him! I bet he's got at least one more man after you two! Now gotta exercise discipline on some hick I just sent to the jail! Throw me another bottle of lube!"

 

When Keith Peake is going to make it with a hot boy -- when he's going to molest a kid he's been eyeing for years -- he carefully prepares himself.

He knows boys crave masculinity. Hardness. Hairiness. Power. Boys need those qualities to complete themselves.

Jesse's tidbit had surprised Keith. If he'd known Victor Franco's succulent ass was going to be put on the market, why Keith would've spent a solid week with his weights, infusing his already boss body with yet more muscled power. Keith knows how to present himself to a kid. Sweat plastering his body hair to his pumped-up muscles. Sweat-soaked jockstrap swollen with daddyjunk. A playful look glinting in his eye. Casually resting his forearms on his head, exposing his dripping pits. A wink.

Wanna have fun, kid? Wanna learn what the big boys get up to?

Victor Franco's perfect bubble butt makes Keith Peake burn for a complementary type of perfection.

But a week-long workout session is not possible. So, Keith must settle.

When Keith emerges from his office, wearing only blue nylon running shorts -- very old, very supple, they run the risk of exposing his spunk-filled hairy balls -- his teen workers greet him with a chorus of whistles and hoots. It's been a slow afternoon at the carwash

"Where you going, Mr. Peake?"

The questioner is a lad of fourteen. His name is Adam. Shoulder-length chestnut hair frames his grinning face. Except for the straps of a tank top his shoulders are bare. His lanky body, supple and strong, begs for a man's caress. Fear not. Keith's hands have tweaked the boy's nips, which even now are spiking against his tank top, and his throbbing mancock has slid into Adam's tight anus as it dripped his brother Travis' spooge.

Keith's bulge swells. The big man grins. "Where do you think I'm off to, Adam? A fucking jog!"

The teen's hands move. You might think he's covering a growing boner. Not Adam. His grin intensifies as his fingers frame his burgeoning teenmeat. "Um. Wanna a massage? Maybe before you go? Maybe when you get back?"

Keith ruffles Adam's hair. "Later, tiger. Later. A man's gotta do what a man's gotta do."

Adam licks his lips. His eyes smolder. "You sure?"

"Can't. Not today. Got a hot date."

"Yeah? With who?"

Keith winks. "Victor Franco."

The cry goes up. The other boys fist-pump. Adam nods, bangs cascading over his long lashes.

"Cool, Mr. Peake. Nail him!" He looks sly. "Can I get your sloppy seconds?"

Keith snorts with laughter. He breaks into a jog. The chortling of his teen workers fades behind him. He exits the Young Suds Carwash lot. He cuts across Broad Streeton. A running/walking/biking trail winds westward along the banks of the Buck River. His muscles swell. Sweat bathes him. He runs three miles down the trail. Sweat soaks his shorts, plastering them to his body. His hard buttocks, his giant junk -- all is on show. If a troop of Cub Scouts had come trotting along, the memory of Keith's overwhelming masculinity would've danced in their dreams for years to come.

Thoughts blaze in Keith's mind as he jogs back.

I'm gonna fuck Victor Franco. Finally! I'm gonna do what I've been wanting to do for years!

Even when Victor's age was below Keith's threshold -- once twelve; now eleven -- there'd been something magnetic about the boy's perfect globes.

But am I gonna tell him my secret?

The jog ends as he pounds through twin lines of cheering teen workers, slapping palms as he shoots by. Maybe they can't see a change in their boss. His muscles are still cut, still big. But Keith feels different. Keith feels like a warrior who's training for battle. And dammit, isn't that what he really is? A warrior fighting for the return of the right to pleasure boys with his big mancock?

In Keith's office, his phone is in a tizzy. He missed Lord's call. Keith returns it.

Voice tremulous, Keith asks, "Well, motherfucker, how was it?"

Lord's booming laugh almost bursts Keith's eardrum. "Goddamn, Peake, you can't believe how that kid's butt felt!"

"Motherfucker, I'm drooling! I'm drooling. Christ, I stared at that kid so many times, wanting to fuck him till my cum ran from his nose!"

"Fuck, Peake, my bros are churning my cum in his guts right now! Got a hot vid. Show's everything, unless West fucked it up! Shit, when you got a second, I'll show you! Kid's gotta let West and Garnett have their go, but then he's all yours! "

"Bet Victor's all loose after your monster."

"Look, Vic's been getting hammered all day! Buncha kids at Calhoun, probably that horndog Dusker, then some Aryan at Founder's Park. But, fuck, man, when I slid in, I thought I was busting a boy's cherry! Trust me. Kid's tight as a virgin up there. Nail him, Peake!"

Later, Keith cruises downtown in his truck. His stomach tingles. His nerves jangle. Damn, he wants this! He circles past the police station time and time again. No Victor. He must've missed the kid's exit.

Which way is that hot assed kid heading? Goddammit, I've got blue balls!

Keith turns onto Jackson Street. What luck! No mistaking Victor's bubble butt! Those shorts should be shorter, or snugger, or both, to show it off properly. No matter. Keith's eyes laser in on the boy's butt. The lad trudges on Jackson Street's tree-lined sidewalk.

Look at him! He's walking bowlegged! Wonder how much spunk he's got up there.

Keith darts his truck into an empty parking space just ahead of Victor. Heart racing, Keith leans on the window, watching the boy walk towards him. The boy's handsome face wears an expression of quiet concentration. As always, Victor's in a world of his own.

"Hey, Victor." Keith's low, throaty voice startles the quiet boy. "Where you heading?"

Victor's hair is disheveled and moist. He stares at Keith. The boy's suddenly agitated. He fidgets as his young eyes meet Keith's intense gaze. To Victor, it's as if some hard-bodied warrior god fresh from Asgard's golden halls has just materialized not in his dreams but in reality.

"Um. I'm going home, Mr. Peake."

"Yeah? Had a busy day?"

"Uh. Yeah."

Keith swings open the truck door. The boy goggles at the sight of the stud's boss body. One of Keith's big, muscular, hairy legs extends out. Keith plants his bare foot on the curb and kicks his thighs wide. He loves watching a boy's reaction when he exposes himself. Very little is hidden from Victor. The running shorts bunch up in the crevice between Keith's thighs and his crotch. The damp blue nylon bulges over his meat. The boy stares at the man.

"Wanna ride, little boy?"

"Yeah!"

"Come here, Victor," Keith croons. He pats the sliver of seat visible between his bulge and his thighs. "Climb up here. Streets aren't safe for a kid like you."

Shyly, Victor sidles up. Keith's sweaty miasma embraces the boy. Victor's breathing intensifies. The thirteen-year-old sways. Is he getting drunk on Keith's heavy funk? Something begins to strain at the front of Victor's shorts. Yep. A boy always responds to the call of a wild man.

The predator and the boy are partly shielded from passersby in the angle formed by cab and door. Victor stares brazenly at Keith's crotch. Keith grins, shifting his hips, flaunting himself to the kid. Victor's eyelids flutter. Keith cups Victor's jaw and runs his thumb along the boy's upper lip.

"So, smooth," he murmurs. His hand drops to the lad's knees. "Smooth here, too."

"Are -- are -- are you going to, uh, molest me, Mr. Peake?"

Heart thudding, Keith says, "You make me hot, boy. Fuck yeah I wanna molest you! Christ, kid, I've wanted to fuck you all your life!"

Victor swallows, glances left, glances right, then subtly move his hips forward. The motion emphasizes the jumping going on behind his fly. "I want you too, Mr. Peake."

"Is that right? You wanna have fun, boy? Have fun with a man?"

Victor nods.

Keith runs his fingertips along the hem of his shorts. Greedily, Victor's eyes track the motion. Keith exposes the first hint of cock. Just a sliver. To the boy, it's like a first glimpse of heaven.

"See that, boy? See that? That's my cock. Watch it. Watch it real close."

Like an anaconda slithering from its burrow, Keith's lengthening dadmeat worms its way from under his shorts and slithers down his hairy thigh. Victor reaches out -- but Keith catches the kid's fingertips before he touches it.

"No, no, you horny little kid," Keith purrs. The torment on the kid's face makes him feel like a lion. "You can't touch my dong in public."

"Please!"" whispers Victor.

Keith smiles and says nothing, merely watching Victor's fascination. The long arc of pedophile cock hangs over the edge of the seat, twitching and swaying in golden, late-afternoon sunlight. A droplet of precum glistens at the tip.

"It's wrong for you to touch it, boy." The big dong jumps.

Victor struggles to free his hand.

"I want your dick, Mr. Peake! More than anything!"

"Dick? Dick?" Keith's eyes blaze with a demented light. "That ain't no little boy dick. It's a cock, kid. Men have cocks. Don't you ever forget that! Men have. Big. Hairy. Boyfucking. Cocks!"

"I want your cock, mister!"

"Do you like my cock, Victor?"

Victor nods.

"Did you like watching me put it up Jesse's butt?"

"more than anything!"

"I put it up my sons a lot," Keith says.

"Please, Mr. Peake, I gotta touch it!" Again, Victor tries to free his hand. Of course, no boy can ever free himself of a man's power.

"Did you like watching me molest my own kid?" Keith growls, easing his crotch and his hardening cock towards Victor's adoring face.

"Yeah!"

Keith swallows. "Do you wish you were my son?"

"Yeah!"

"If you were my son, Victor, I would've molested you a long, long, long time ago. Christ, Victor. Do you know how sexy you are? Can you guess how many times I've watched you up on the diving platform?" Keith's erection sways like a cobra. "Wishing you and Jesse slept in the same bed together?"

Victor blushes and giggles. He's fantasized about having a horny brother and a horny dad a lot.

"You gonna do what I want? 'Cause, you know, you're the son --" powerful emotion quavers in Keith's voice "-- and I'm the Dad."

"You know I will, Mr. Peake!"

"Hand me your bag." Keith stuffs Victor's sports bag under the bench seat. "Take my hand, son."

Victor, no idiot, grasps Keith's cock instead. He giggles when the big man jumps. "It's so thick, Mr. Peake!"

"And long?"

"Yeah!"

"Let go my cock. You'll get plenty of time to play with that in a minute!" Keith pulls the boy into the truck's cab. As the boy passes over Keith's lap, Victor grabs the cock again. "Victor! What'd I say!"

Victor snuggles against the man. "Maybe, you know, if you don't want boys playing with it, maybe you shouldn't let it hang out like that."

Smirking, Keith slams the door. Man and boy are now safe, snuggled against each other, free to indulge their natural lust for one another. Victor's smooth thigh quivers against Keith's hairy one.

Victor's hand clasps Keith's erection. "OK? Please? I gotta touch it!"

"Not so hard, son. Not so hard." Something powerful and deep moves him. "You don't want Daddy to spurt, do you?"

Victor, eyebrows waggling, jacks Keith's footlong meat. "Yeah I want Daddy to spurt."

"OK, Victor, OK. Just slow down! Damn, son, you make me horny as fuck! Do something for me, will you?"

"Anything!"

"Smell it, Vic. Smell my sweat."

Victor lifts his palm to his nostrils. Inhales. Grins. "You smell good, Mr. Peake. I remember what you taught us." He looks embarrassed. "My mom said I was getting to be a smelly boy. But I won't wear any deodorant."

"Good boy." He sniffs Victor's hair. "You smell like a swimming pool."

Squirming in the crook of Keith's arm, Victor giggles happily.

Keith eases the truck into traffic. They tool slowly along Jackson. Victor eyes the man's strong body, the whorls of hair, those cut and defined muscles. Keith trails his fingertips, gentle as a butterfly, up and down the boy's satiny thighs.

"I like your muscles, Mr. Peake."

"I know you do. You got some nice muscles yourself, son. You feel good."

"Can -- can I take my shorts off, Mr. Peake?"

"Not yet."

Frustrated, Victor squirms. Dammit, he wants to be naked with this stud. "Where are we going?"

"Someplace we can fuck." Keith throws his arm round the boy's shoulder. He grins, feeling the kid's nostrils snuffling his pit. His big paw slides down Victor's back and slips into his shorts. "Don't worry. Yeah. You're hot, kid. You're fucking hot. Gonna fuck you hard."

"I wanna do it in your bed!" Victor whines.

"Yeah. I bet you do. But my boys are home. And they'd pester us like crazy. I wanna do you right, Victor. So, we're going someplace private"

As Keith drives, Victor plays with his new foot-long toy. Keith groans when the boy's fingertips stroke his kidfucker from dripping crown to furry base.

"You do that so well, son," Keith gasps. "Gene teach you that?"

"Yeah!" Victor's tongue swipes one of Keith's nipples. "Um. We're out of town now. You can pull the truck over and molest me. If you want."

"We're going to the place I first fucked a kid, Victor. That's where I want to do you. You like my cock?"

Victor nods. "It's big!" HE grasps it tightly, but his fingertips don't meet. Precum tickles down and anoints his hand.

Keith smirks. "Yeah. That's what your Mom said."

"When did you show your cock to my Mom."

"Couple of years ago. When I fucked your Mom." Keith's cock quavers. This admission is about to make his meat burst.

"When did you do that?"

"Well, it was more than a couple of years. More like ... fourteen years ago."

"Oh."

"think about it, victor. I might be ... your real Dad. You never know."

A shudder runs through Victor. Keith feels it, and he knows the boy, just like him, wishes it was true.

"Your cock's so big. I mean, Da's is OK, but ..." The lad trails off. "I bet if you were really my Dad, I'd squirt when you fuck me!"

"Like Jesse?"

"Yeah! Like Jesse!"

"Well, son. We're gonna find out if I'm really your Dad."

The truck shoots north. Keith grins as they shoot past Chase's Honda, pulled off the road at the head of the path leading to that riverside field. What father can't help but feel proud when his stud teenaged son has clearly scored a fresh piece of tight boycunt?

"Are you peeing?" Victor asks, eyeing the tide of fluid cascading down the big cock.

"No. Son. Daddy's just horny. You make Daddy hot."

Blushing, Victor says, "Da, you make my butthole feel all hungry inside!" He giggles. He just called Mr. Peake the name once reserved only for ... Gene.

A little later, Keith's truck clatters down a rural lane: two muddy ruts separated by a swath of grass. North of Ellicott Falls, the long ridges of the Appalachians draw together, so this is not the world's biggest farm. Rows of corn, just a little over waist high, stretch to either side. This might be a problem, Keith thinks, so he drives as far from the county highway as he can go.

"Where is this?" Victor asks.

"A farm. Cousin of mine owns it." Keith's eyes scan the fields. No worries. No one seems to be working in the corn. He brakes and kills the engine. Keith's eyes lock to Victor's.

"It's me and you, son. We're all alone. I got a hardon. What do you wanna do?"

"I want you to fuck me, Da!"

Keith bends close to Victor's upturned face. "Let Daddy taste you. "

Victor's query is muffled as Keith's lips slobber against his. Keith shifts, pinning the boy against the back of the seat, sliding his tongue along Victor's lips. Finally, the kid gets the message. The boy's lips part and Keith invades the kid's mouth. The big man squirms as the boy's fingers run through his chest fur. The boy coos into Keith's mouth.

Men and boys should kiss like this more often. You know, with the open window carrying the scent of agriculture, with the soft sound of birds in the air, warm sunlight streaming through the windows, the gentle breeze blessing their forbidden act.

This is full-on pedophile man-for-boy lust. Keith devours Victor, nibbling on one earlobe, moving over his smooth cheeks, across his dainty nose, then on to the other earlobe. The lithe young body, still clothed, presses against Keith's hairy nakedness. Keith's hands slide down Victor's back and cup those buttcheeks.

"You like it when Daddy puts his tongue in your mouth?"

Giggling, Victor gapes, sticking out his tongue. Keith slurps it up. The boy's hairless torso writhes against the man's hair-armored body. Together, they coo, one voice deep and lordly, the other innocent and hungry. Keith's tongue slithers along the insides of the lad's cheeks.

"You've been sucking cock, haven't you, son?" Keith's eyes blaze with passion.

"Yeah. I sucked off Coach Antoniou."

"Really? I didn't think he was into boys. Did he like it?"

"He's kinda stupid, Da! I had to do everything to trick him. But yeah, Da, he liked it!"

Knuckles stroking victor's cheek, Keith murmurs, "Good boy. You're a good boy, son. Daddy likes boys who get it on outside the family." His tongue slithers through the convolutions of Victor's ear. "Don't squeeze my cock so hard, son. Daddy might cum."

"I want your cum, Da. I want your cum in me so bad, Da!"

Keith lifts Victor's chin. "You need your Daddy's cum in you, son?"

"Yeah!"

"then you gotta do something for Daddy." Keith's eyes blaze.

"What, Da?"

"You gotta suck Daddy's cock."

Victor stares down at the giant shaft. Holy crap. Take a foot of manmeat down his throat? He barely managed Coach Antoniou's!

"I don't think I can," Victor murmurs sadly.

"You can't?"

"I'll choke, Da! I just can't!"

"OK, then." Keith pulls back from the boy. Aware of Victor's disappointed look, he pretends obliviousness. "Let go of my cock, Victor."

"Huh?"

"Let go of my cock."

Victor's grasp relaxes. Keith backs away. With great effort, he stuffs his erection back under the nylon. Nothing is hidden; the huge shaft throbs against Keith's running shorts. Victor's expression is that of a kid who's just been robbed of his Christmas present.

"What -- what -- what are you doing, Mr. Peake?

"Slide over, Victor. Buckle up."

"Huh? What? Where are we going?"

"I'm taking you home."

"Why?" Victor cries.

''Cause you won't suck my cock, and if you don't want to suck my cock, well, I guess you just aren't my son."

Victor falls for it. "Ok. Ok. I'll suck you! I promise I will!"

Keith smirks. Works every time. "Son, I knew you were a good boy. Now. Lift your arms. Daddy wants to take your shirt off."

Victor, relieved, obediently raises his arms like a five-year-old waiting to be undressed. Keith takes the kid's shirt by the hem and plucks it up and off.

"Keep 'em up!"

Keith stares at Victor's armpits. Smooth as silk? Not quite. There are hints of fine down. Keith's tongue swipes across one. The kid giggles and squirms. Keith, not saying a word, clamps the boy to the seat with one hand. He licks the kid's other pit.

"Yeah! Tasty. Come on!"

Keith rolls out of the cab, fishing his hardon from his shorts. The boy scampers after him.

"Nice ass, son. Daddy's always gone crazy over your ass."

Victor swipes his sneakered foot at a tuft of grass. "Yeah. I know."

Keith shoves his cock into the kid's face. His cockhead steams less than an inch from Victor's lips. The boy's nostrils quiver, drinking the man's pungent funk.

"You see what your butt does to your Daddy? See what your tight little butt does, son? It makes Daddy wanna fuck you. Molest you. Make a baby in you."

"I want your cock up my butt, Da!"

Victor, sighing -- what he's about to try he knows he can't do, but, dammit, he's gotta have this meat! -- sinks to his knees. He reaches for Keith's cock --

"No, no," says Keith, grabbing Victor's wrist.

"Da! Please! Let me suck your big cock!"

"You want Daddy's cock?"

"Yeah!"

"Then you gotta start at the bottom, son!"

Keith, ignoring Victor's frustrated grunt, struts to the back of the truck. The boy charges after him. The wind ripples across the grass. The stalks of corn sway. He hears in the distance cars on the old country road. Clang. The tailgate drops. Bending over it, Keith fumbles open an old tackle box. He pulls out an old, stained towel.

"You like your Daddy's butt?"

Victor jumps. It's like the man can read his mind. He was staring at those muscled cheeks as they moved and surged beneath the blue nylon. At the man's sweaty spine, where it vanished beneath the waistband. At his thighs, corded with muscle. At the backside of Keith's naked balls, visible because he's extracted them.

"Yeah, Da! I like your butt."

Smoothing the towel, Keith says, "Kiss Daddy's ass, son."

Victor swallows. He sidles up to the man. He reaches up, takes those shorts, and tugs. The blue nylon piles at Keith's feet. With a flick, the man kicks them away. He leans forward again, reaching for the lube he keeps tucked in the tackle box.

"Well, son? You gonna eat Daddy's butt?"

Victor sinks to his knees. Trembling hands clamp to Keith's buttcheeks. The boy's arms strain to part the man's ass. Keith Peake is no softie.

Victor stares into the sweaty trench. "Wow, Da. You're really hairy."

Keith kicks his legs apart and moves his butt towards Victor's worshipful face.

"Get in there, son. Lick your Daddy's butthole. You do that right, and Daddy might let you suck his cock. You want that -- oh!"

Leading with his tongue, Victor dives in.

"Stop!" Keith thunders. Something in Victor's abject submission had almost overwhelmed him. He'd come that close to spewing his load into the bed of his truck.

Victor freezes.

"Not there. Um. Lick my calf." Keith angles his left leg back.

Victor crouches. An obedient puppy, he licks. His tongue paints saliva from Keith's Achilles tendon all the way to the back of the man's knee. The man's skin is salty. Victor feels the power quivering in Keith's calf. A dreamy look films his eyes.

"All of it," orders Keith. "Front and back."

"I don't know if I can lick the front --"

"Stick your head between my thighs and lick your Daddy's leg!"

Victor worms his way into that intimate space. Keith's hairy thighs brush his ears. He likes this. The man's warmth and his power envelope the boy. The kid feels small, insignificant, powerless -- and part of something greater. The hair on Keith's legs tickles Victor's nose.

"Now the other one."

Victor commences slobbering on the man's other leg. Keith's huge shaft throbs against his belly. Yeah. This is living. A boy worshipping his man-god. Creating scenes like this is what Keith Peake was meant to do in life.

"OK. Lick Dad's butt, son."

It's hard for Victor to breathe with his nose and mouth embedded between those armored buttcheeks. A few trickles of musk, however, penetrate and sustain the boy. Victor's tiny tongue roams everywhere, exploring the sweaty trench, tangling with the thick forest of hair, making the man squirm his hard ass against Victor's eager face. The boy sinks lower, his tongue flailing and lapping. He likes his new Da's crack. At last he finds his goal. His destiny. The crinkled texture of butthole is unmistakable. It tastes orangey.

"Yeah, son," Keith purrs, frozen except for his slow-grinding ass. "Lick your Daddy's butt."

But Victor has something more intimate in mind. Keith's lips curl into a smile as the boy's tongue stabs his ring. Keith bends forward, planting his palms on the open tailgate. He grins, feeling his new son's tongue straining to slip inside. Poor boy. He doesn't realize that that's never going to happen. Keith's butthole isn't a space a boy can pierce; it's a button for a boy to push.

Victor murmurs happily between Keith's cheeks.

"You keep going, son, till Daddy tells you to stop."

The boy devours the man's ass. Dribbles of precum ooze down Keith's cock. Victor mumbles again.

"Good job, son. Now lean back."

When Keith turns around, he looks down on Victor. The boy is kneeling and wiping drool off his chin. Keith's giant dong sways like a wand over the boy's upturned face. Keith grabs the shaft and aim's his drizzling cockhead at Victor's shiny lips. Victor looks wary.

"You promised, son. You promised Daddy a blowjob."

"I'll -- I'll try, Da."

"Ready, son?"

Victor heaves a sigh. A determined look settles on his face. "Yeah."

"Open wide, kid."

Keith eases his cock towards Victor's tongue, which just unrolled like a red carpet. Strands of swaying precum tickle the boy's tongue. Victor, no idiot, gulps it down, then opens his mouth again to receive the oncoming manshaft. The man's sizzling cockhead brushes Victor's lower lip.

"Kiss it. Kiss it, son. Like I taught you."

Victor's lips pucker and his kisses Keith's oozing pisslit.

"That's nice, Victor. Your lips are so soft. Daddy likes boys with soft lips."

Victor looks ludicrous. Only a smidgen of cockhead has slipped between his lips, but already he looks like that snake who tried to swallow a Christmas tree in A Nightmare Before Christmas. But sights like this are what being a pedophile is all about. Grinning triumphantly, Keith plants both hands on Victor's head.

"That's right, son. Daddy wants his cock sucked, and sucked right."

Victor's eyes plead for tenderness. Instead, the man's bicep's bulge with power and authority. The prong advances. Victor's jaws stretch. Keith's cockhead pops in, crushing victor's tongue against the bottom of his mouth. Keith slides on. Drool courses from the corners of the boy's mouth. The adult weapon rams against the tight gate to Victor's throat. The boy, gagging, convulses.

"Here comes the hard part, son!"

Keith snaps his hips. Victor gags. The cockhead bludgeons its way into the boy's throat. His hands brace against Keith's thighs. Victor's body tenses as if he might pull himself away and give up this impossible task. Lust wins out over the kid's common sense. You can blame Keith's precum for that. Few boys, once they taste Keith Peake's daddydrool, can resist the surging power of his cock. It's his testosterone, man. Boys need it. They're junkies for it, Victor Franco especially. Once he realizes he can take an inch or three into his throat without dying, the kid gets bold. Greedy. He lunges forward

"Yeah," Keith sneers, looking down at Victor. "You like your Daddy's cock, don't you? Yeah. Put more of it in your mouth, kid. Daddy needs it. Needs it more than you. Don't look at me! Look at my bush, kid. See that? I got pubic hair. You don't. That makes me the Dad. You're just a kid. Smooth and tight. Yeah, a kid. Yeah. Use that tongue, boy! You feel good! Choke on it, son! Choke on Daddy's cock!"

Keith's cock sinks between Victor's lips. A fat bulge forces its way down Victor's neck. Keith's wiry pubes, steaming from sweat and rich with musk, advance towards Victor's gaping lips. Finally, his balls rest against Victor's chin. Victor's face is hidden by thatch.

"Wow, Victor," Keith croons. His abdominals ripple as he corkscrews his hips. His cock throbs in the kid's throat. "You're something special. No other boy's ever been able to take all my big dick!"

We can't' see it but trust me, a pleased look brightens Victor's slightly bluish face.

"Now, Victor, let's have some fun! Daddy/son style!"

It's face-fucking time!

Keith yanks half his cock from Victor's throat. Spit glistens and mucous webs the obscene kidfucker. Victor gulps air, then belches like a thousand bullfrogs. Keith rams home. Spit sprays from Victor's mouth, streaking Keith's sweaty belly and his pubic hair. Keith's swollen balls slap against the boy's chin. Keith chortles. The big man knows who's boss here. He saws at Victor's throat, pleasure hazing his eyes ever more thickly with each powerful stroke.

Victor, almost hidden between Keith's working thighs and his head crushed by the man's palms, whimpers.

"Don't worry, son. This won't take long."

The boy kneels where he should: in front of a man. Right there, in Victor's face, looms a man's groin. Thrusting brazenly. Arrogantly. Asserting lordship over the boy. Muscles frame it on every side. It reeks of power. The big shaft, churning like an eighteen-wheeler's pistons, seems to displace his soul, leaving Victor nothing more than a vessel. A youthful emptiness waiting to be filled with the essence of maturity.

If there are any boys -- real boys, not "bois" -- reading this, seek out men like Keith Peake and learn what pleasure can be had when you submit.

Keith's cock pounds. Victor's lips bruise. Victor's throat turns to raw hamburger. The pain doesn't bother the kid. He feels triumphant. His little boy boner leaks and twitches in his briefs, but for once he's not thinking about his own urges. Servicing the adult's cock is all that matters to Victor Franco in this raw moment of pedophilic ecstasy. Man and boy sex. Make all the NAMBLA jokes you want, but they know where it's at.

Already Victor's absorbing some of Keith's power and maturity. A smug feeling fills his soul. Yeah, he's a boy, and he's doing something not even Jesse Peake can manage. He can take a foot of mancock down his throat! He'll be bragging about this on the playground tomorrow.

A long, buttery groan rolls out of Keith.

"Here it cums, son! Here it cums!" Keith jams all twelve inches of his shaft in the kid's throat. "Daddy's gonna blow a big one in you, son!"

A huge torrent of spunk fountains from Keith's cock. Bypassing tongue and tonsils, it streams directly into Victor's stomach. Sure, this might sound like a disappointment for Victor. But man up, snowflake. This isn't about giving a kid a taste of spunk. This is about a man emptying his balls. Victor's going to have plenty of time to gargle of man goo later.

Victor, absorbing the rich, testosterone-laced gravy, feels fire kindle in his blood. He slobbers round the throbbing shaft, coaxing more and more of his fix from Keith's stud balls.

"Whew!" Keith eases back. Inch by glistening inch, his cock emerges from Victor's nursing lips. "Don't worry, son." Victor belches as Keith's cock, trailing a long strand of spunk, pulls free. "Daddy's still hard!"

Victor staggers to his feet. His eyes never leave that cock. "I wish you were always hard, Da! "

"I bet. Fuck, son, every boy I molest wants me to stay hard for 'em!"

Keith kneels. Victor's eyes glint with mischief as Keith fumbles with Victor's fly. The boy squirms, eager to be naked.

"You wanna fuck, son?"

Victor nods eagerly. Keith unsnaps the fly. The lad's shorts fall. Grinning, Keith runs his palm over Victor's bulge. Victor giggles.

"Proud of that, aren't you, son?"

"Yeah!"

"Can you shoot?"

"I've tried all day, Mr. Peake, but I just can't!"

Keith eases Victor's briefs down. The boy's skin is moist and hot. The kid has got great quads. They are the perfect base for the boy's perfect bubble butt to rest upon. Keith caresses the underside of the boy's tight nuts.

"I bet when you do, it'll be a gusher. What do you think?"

Victor just shrugs.

"Do you jack off?"

"Don't tell my -- don't tell Gene, Da, but --" Victor glances left and right, just to make sure no one overhears this -- "Yeah. I do. A lot. I can' stop!"

"Nothing happens?"

"Nothing!" Victor sounds like the kid whose birthday lollipop turns out to be vegetable-flavored.

Poor kid. Keith, feeling sympathetic, does something he rarely does. He bends forward. Kid dicks never smell powerful as mancock, but Victor's crotch has been stewing in his boyish precum all day. The effect is heady. Keith almost goes cross-eyed. Leading with his tongue, Keith dives on the boy's dick.

"Oh!"

The diver's back arches. He freezes, an expression of shocked delight scintillating on his face. He gets the idea, and thrusts. His smooth groin presses Keith's stubbled lips. Gigging, the boy twists. Victor's fine butt dimples as he pounds Keith's lips. His motions are jerky, erratic, inexperienced. He stops when the man's palm rests on his thigh. Keith draws back, giving the plum-like dickhead a farewell swipe of the tongue.

Keith wipes his lips. "You've been leaking, son."

"All day!" says Victor. "But I can't cum!"

Keith's eyes smolder into the boys. "I know how to fix that."

"Yeah. I know!"

Keith rises. He guides young Victor by the hips so the boy stands in front of the truck's lowered tailgate.

"Bend over, son. Spread your legs for Daddy."

Grinning, bouncing from foot to foot, Victor plants his chest on the towel draped over the tailgate's edge. Oh yeah. The boy's excited. He wants this. Fuck, he needs this! Knowing the routine, he arches his back. Keith's eyes laser in on Victor Franco's legendary ass.

The pose is perfect. Slightly parted thighs expose the tight sack, neatly split by the seam. Victor's buttcrack runs from the base of his spine, splitting the hard melons with a crevice so tight it doesn't look like you could slip a credit card between them. The hole remains hidden, almost chastely, but the glistening remains of lube from Victor's endless stream of encounters betrays the lad's inherent sluttiness.

"Goddamn, son," Keith murmurs. His fingers stroke the smooth skin. "You got no idea what this but does to a man --"

"Yes, I do, Da!" Victor shifts his weight. His butt sways, inviting someone -- anyone -- to stuff his pubescent hole.

Breathing hoarsely, Keith kisses one buttcheek. He shudders. Victor Franco's silken ass. At last, it belongs to Keith.

"Yeah. You do, don't you, son? You know how sexy you are."

Grinning, Victor nods eagerly.

Keith plants a kiss on the other buttcheek. It morphs into worship. His tongue spirals on the boy's quavering flesh. He stops himself just before plunging into Victor's buttcrack.

"Standing up there on that diving platform ... " Keith murmurs. "Jeez, can you guess how many men jizz their pants when you turn around? You know you're showing off when you do that, don't you?"

Victor beams. "Sometimes I want to pull down my Speedos and show everyone!"

What a picture. Boy diver, back to the pool, bouncing on his toes, V-shaped torso writhing with muscles. His arms lift. Then they drop. Deftly he hooks his fingers into his Speedos, snapping them down beneath his butt. Men streaming from the bleachers, racing for the diving platform ladder, nothing but pedophilic rape on their minds.

"When did you first know you wanted a man to fuck you?"

Victor murmurs an age, which, because it's so shocking, I'll keep secret.

"That young?" says Keith with a smile.

"Uh-huh!"

"Don't surprise me. Lots of boys know what they want when they're ... well, that age."

"Would you have fucked me ... if I'd asked you to?"

Keith doesn't dare answer. Ever since that blowjob from Tyler, he's been struggling with some extremely nasty thoughts. To distract victor, he digs his thumbs into the boy's crack and peels apart the cheeks. The hole, angry and purple, gleams before Keith's eyes.

"Wow. You've been fucked, son!"

Victor giggles. "Yeah, Da. I've been getting fucked all day."

"Gene start you off?"

"Yeah. At breakfast."

Keith breathes on the tiny pucker, squirming deep between Victor's mounds. His tongue flicks across his lips.

"Gene's a bastard. He's known I've wanted to fuck you for years. He teases me. He tells me stories. You know, of what he and you do. He tells me when we're at a competition, and I'm there for Jesse, and he's there for you. Damn, boy, I want to be there for all my sons!"

Victor feels warm and snuggly inside, knowing his Da -- or maybe, just Gene, if Keith's not bullshitting him about being his real Da -- has been telling pornographic stories to other pedophiles.

"Who else, son?" Keith slips his thumbs next to the hole, pulling it open. Expecting to see a rivulet of cum drip out, his heart races. He blinks, surprised, when he sees only the cherry-red tissues of Victor's chute.

The day's story begins rolling. Chris Woodpine behind the school, Ben Harrison in the bathroom --

Then he gasps.

Keith's stubbled cheeks scour the lad's ass. The man's tongue slithers like hot oil over Victor's tender butthole. For a moment, Victor's jaw hangs slack. Savoring the feeling, his eyes shrink to slits. Keith's tongue stabs inside him. The boy, beginning to slobber, groans. Keith's long tongue flails, circling the inside of the lad's puffy ring before stabbing against the swollen knot of his prostate. The hot-assed thirteen-year-old grinds against the man's face.

Keith unglues his lips from Victor's ring long enough to lips: "Keep going, thon. Tell Da everything."

Victor can't speak for a few moments, simply writhing in ecstasy. Soon, though, he continues, trying to tell the tale of the gangbang with Devon Whitewater and the other boys in the upstairs bathroom. He botches it, because his pleasure-drunk memory can't retrieve the details in the right order.

Who cares? Keith laps away at Victor's boycunt. He tastes lube, of course, but there's not a hint of spunk to be found, not even when his tongue strains to probe as deep inside the kid's sizzling hot, puffy rectum as it'll go. This kid must have a milk-jug-sized glob of spunk locked deep up his bowels. I won't lie. Keith's a bit disappointed. He likes sloppy seconds.

By the end of Victor's tale, he's propped up on his elbows, standing on the balls of his feet, his butt high in full bitch-in-heat mode, his spine curved as a smile.

"Nice." Keith stands and reaches for the lube. "Fuck, son, I wanna eat your butt every motherfucking day!"

"Can we? Please?"

Keith's fingers massage slippery go onto the boy's butthole. He hears Victor's question, and the urgency in the lad's voice stabs at his heart, but how the hell can he snatch a boy away from his legal dad?

"You'd love living at my house. I let my boys do anything they want. Hell, one of them fucks the family dog."

Lightning shoots up Victor's spine. Really? A dog? Wow. The boy coos as Keith's fingers enter him. It burns, and he gasps and twists, but the kid's a prisoner of the man's overwhelming lust.

"Still tight," Keith says, lining up his footlong daddycock. "That's what I like about boys. You're always tight."

"It's big, Da! Real big! Will it hurt?"

"Yeah," Keith growls. "Yeah. It's gonna hurt bad, son. Be strong. Take it. Take your Da's big cock!"

Keith pushes. Victor's tender butthole squelches round his cockhead. A shudder runs through the muscular man's frame. His cockhead vanishes into the lad's cunt.

"Oh, fuck, you hot-assed kid," moans Keith. "I've wanted this for years!"

"Yeah," breathes Victor, eyelids fluttering. "Fuck me!"

"Daddy's gonna fuck you right, son! Daddies always fuck their boys right!"

Sheriff Lord's greased the skids well. There's little resistance inside the boy. Keith sinks in, moving steadily, shuddering as Victor's chafed, inflamed rectum gulps each inch of that mammoth whang. Victor's buttery insides expand; the lad winces as he is filled. Muscles milk the invading shaft. Though busting cherries is Keith's favorite thing to do -- hell, if you're a pedophile, busting cherries is part of the daily routine -- there's something exquisitely kinky about sliding up a boy's ass on another man's cum. Waves of depraved pleasure shudder through Keith as he stretches the boy.

"It feels so good, Da!"

Keith shoots a look down. Wow. His cock is vanishing between those long-lusted-for cheeks. He grins. "What feels good, son?"

"You're cock! Going up me!"

"It belongs there, doesn't it?"

Victor nods and corkscrews his butt on Keith's throbbing kidfucker.

"Yeah, Victor. You're a real Daddy's boy!"

Keith thrusts. Man and boy moan. Keith's thick pubic bush presses between Victor's smooth cheeks. The big man's enormous balls quaver between the lad's smooth thighs.

Keith twitches his cock. "Feel that?"

"Oh yeah!"

"What was that, son?"

"It was your cock, Da!"

Keith withdraws smoothly. Inches of cock, gleaming with lube and mucous, emerge from the boy's purple anus. The kid's rubbery pucker stretches, nursing on the retreating shaft as if reluctant to see it go. Keith watches the process. Damn. Sometimes he just can't believe how much cock a kid can take. He grins as Victor's anus bulges from within. That's his cockhead, about to plop free. None of that! Keith piledrives back in.

"Ow!"

"Hurt a little?" Keith growls into Victor's ear, grinding his shaft in the boy's guts, moving it like a swizzle stick. He feels the kid's organs moving aside, making way for his titanic cock.

On the cusp of admitting a bit, Victor suddenly bites his lip. The way Mr. Peake moves his cock makes Victor's eyes roll up. The kid sighs, and moans, and churns his little hips up and down.

"That's right, son. Move like that! Daddy likes that. Oh, you're such a sweet, sexy boy!"

Victor's sleek butt swishes, twisting his little anus on Keith's fat shaft. His tongue lolls from his mouth. An expression of stupid fulfillment blurs his face. Oh yes, Victor Franco is one happy kid. Except --

It's true! It's true! He wasn't lying! Mr. Peake's my real Da! Not Gene. Mr. Peake! So, that means I'm ... Victor Peake.

Keith, hips pumping like a thoroughbred, clamps his hands to Victor's waist. A good pedophile's gotta keep his boy in line, right? Growling and groaning, the man throws an awesome fuck into the kid, showing him what it's really like to do it with Daddy. Keith watches ripples of pleasure skitter across Victor's muscles. The boy gasps each time Keith slamfucks him to the root, and the sound is music to Keith's ears. Yeah. This is what being a Daddy is all about: waking your son up to the pleasure to which he's entitled.

Victor, buried beneath the big man's hairy, heaving body, coos and purrs with each stroke. Something just feels right about being bent over a tailgate in the middle of cornfield. Hot sweat rains onto the lad's back. Yeah. He likes this. He's beginning to smell like Mr. Peake. He's enslaved to the cock, the power, and the aromas of his Dad. With each stroke of Keith's child molesting cock, Victor becomes more and more a true Peake boy.

Suddenly the churning stops. With a loud, blustery fart, Keith's dong pops free of the kid's hole. Victor looks over his shoulder in despair.

Keith grins down at him. "Don't worry, Victor. Daddy's gonna take care of you."

Keith flips Victor onto his back. His eyes roam his newest conquest's smooth torso. Jesus, the kid's streamlined as a dolphin, and eager, because he's already lifting his legs, spreading them, desperate to feel his real Da between them. Victor, excited, begins bouncing his butt on the tailgate's edge.

"Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me, Da!"

Keith lines up, staring down at the kid. Victor grins, ready for anything. The snarling, deranged look on Keith's sweaty face triggers abject submission in the boy. He moans and writhes. His little dick drools. A pool of crystalline fluid forms in his belly button.

"Fuck me, Da! Please fuck me! I need it!"

"What do you need, son?"

"I need your cock, Da!"

Keith slams harder and harder. Both grunt. Something in the truck bed falls over with a metallic clatter. Focused on what's important, they ignore it. Man and boy rock and roll. Big hairy man balls slap against a boy's smooth, upturned butt.

"I'm fucking you, son! Daddy's fucking you! Daddy's giving you what you need!"

"Oh! Oh! Oh!"

Keith drills full-length strokes into the squirming kid. Victor's swollen prostate pulsates against Keith's plunging shaft. Fuck, it feels like a water balloon overfilled with hot oil! Keith shifts his target, stabbing his cockhead into the bag, swiveling his hips, lifting his butt high, and thrusting hard again into the lad's immature gland. Under this pummeling, Victor goes slack. His feet twitch. His legs kick wildly. Then Victor's eyes suddenly blaze at Keith. It looks as if the boy's been possessed by a fiery demon.

"Do it like that, Da! Oh, God, da, just like that forever!"

"You like it when Daddy does it there?"

Victor can't answer. He writhes, shifting his hips on the towel, hungry for the sensation. The boy bounces like a rubber toy being shaken in a wolf's jaws. This isn't a moment of fear. It's a moment of rejoicing. Sex has never, ever been this fucking good! He wouldn't trade this for anything else in the world.

"You feel good, son! Daddy likes your ass!"

"Oh! Oh! Oh!"

Keith hammers the boy's swollen prostate with a flurry of sharp strokes. A low, rolling moan escapes him when Victor's chute clamps to his cock.

"Oh God!"

Victor's back arches. The kid's face contorts. He seems to want to scream, but can't.

"Let it happen, son," Keith croons.

Fuck yeah it happens.

The first thing to escape Victor is a tremendous whoomph of air. That always results when orgasm first punches a boy in the guts. The lad convulses. A two-foot long gout of white goo blasts from the kid's straining dick. For the first time, ever, the brand-new thirteen-year-old does what he was put on Earth to do: fire off wads of spooge so that it can seek its destiny.

A slimy moment passes as Victor, with transcendent joy, realizes what's at last happened. Then he fires again.

"Yeah, son, shoot it! Daddy's just made you cum!"

Then the thunderstorm breaks. Victor's little boydick is a machine gun, firing bullets of sperm. The thrashing kid sends gouts of cum flying everywhere. Gleaming pearls of jism careen over the cab. The cab's back window is splattered by gooey spiders of spunk. His fists beat against the truck bed. It's an orgasmic fit. Strands of juice paint Keith's chest fur. Dollops of fresh teenage spunk smack the underside of the man's jaw.

"Goddam, son!" Keith powerfucks the boy, driving foot-long strokes into the kid's spasming asshole. He bats his eyes, trying to shake the cum from his lashes. "What the fuck, son?"

"I can't stop, Da! I can't stop cumming!" Droplets of jism spatter rain on Victor's chest.

Keith stares down at Victor. The boy's abdominals ripple, cascading goo everywhere. This is ridiculous. The kid's torso is covered by a half-inch later of goo. Keith's never seen anything like it. The pungent aroma of teenaged spunk singes his nostrils.

His eyes roll up.

"Oh, shit oh shit oh shit Daddy's coming!"

With a roar, Keith slams his cock balls-deep and blasts off in Victor's ass. The boy feels his Da squirting up him and his own orgasm responds with new ferocity. The man and his boy growl like animals. Spunk cascades out of Keith. For a moment, he's afraid that he's going to orgasm like Victor and that the kid will burst from the tsunami of adult spunk. His balls pulsate. On and on the orgasms thunder.

When it all subsides, fading away like hot water swirling down a shower drain, a father and his son are both slathered with sweat and goo. Both stare at the other. Keith admires Victor's smooth skin and the layer of cream frosting it. The boy's fingers explore Keith's chest hair, sopping with gravy.

"I guess I am your boy," Victor murmurs. "I mean, since you made me cum." He is both afraid of and attracted by the intensity of emotion in his father's gaze.

"We both already knew it." Keith pecks the lad on the cheek. He says, through lips coated with teen spunk, "I just had to prove it to you."

Keith withdraws his cock and staggers upright. He takes Victor's hand and hauls him up. Both laugh as the tide of gravy oozes down the boy's body.

"I can't get dressed like this!"

A flash of heat blazes up in Keith. "No, son. No, you can't."

"This towel --" Victor hoists the soaked towel. "What are we gonna do, Da?"

"What you're gonna do, son, is kneel."

Victor hears something in Keith's voice. Some people might here a threat, but Victor knows his Da is being playful. A good boy always wants to play with his Da. So, he kneels.

"Take your Daddy's cock. That's good. Now point it at your face."

Victor points it right at his lips. When the stud's pisshole gapes, he begins to grin -- but the fountaining spray of piss obscures it. He giggles, ducking his head into the stream, washing the spunk from his hair and from his face. The golden flow strips the lad clean.

"Come on, son. Let's get dressed."

"I wish I could be naked with you forever, Da!"

"I'm gonna try and make that happen, son."

On the drive back to the Franco house, the man and the boy again scrunch up next to each other. Victor lays a drowsy head against Keith's naked chest, enjoying the man's scent.

"I really wish," Victor says, "I could sleep in your bed, Da. But my other Da-- Gene -- I bet he won't let me."

"There's a way."

"How?"

Keith winks. "Tell him you want to sleepover with Jesse."

Victor perks up. "Yeah."

The truck screeches to a halt. Gene Franco's car sits in the driveway. Keith sees the corner of a curtain lift. Gene examines the pair in the truck. Keith watches his rival nod to himself. Of course, gene thinks what's just happened is a simple sexual encounter between a man and a boy.

"Don't go," says Keith to Victor, fumbling for his sports bag.

The kiss is long. And risky, for two cars pass while Keith presses Victor's lips to his. Fuck it! What's wrong with a Dad -- or a Da -- French kissing his thirteen-year-old son? The man's fingers explored the boy's body, reinforcing the lesson that the best thing one can be is to be a free spirit incarnated in a world where man/boy sex was possible.

Victor says, shyly, "Thanks, da."

"Remember. You can spend the night in my bed. With Kevin. And Jesse. And Tristan, if Wolfsbane will let me have him."

"Could Jesse fuck me? And you fuck him? So, I can feel him spunk in my but?"

"Son, when Daddy loves you, you can do anything you want." Keith throws an arm around his latest conquest, smooches him on his forehead, then -- with a pat on the ass -- propels him towards his foster dad.

Fuck! My son's got the hottest ass in the world!