Date: Mon, 21 Apr 2014 21:10:41 -0400
From: Kevin Peake <daddy.kevin.p@gmail.com>
Subject: Submission - Dads 'N' Lads - Episode VIII

Dads 'N' Lads

Episode VIII - Temptation, Frustration, and that Book by Nabokov

by Daddy.K

© 2014

Email: daddy.kevin.p@gmail.com
Twitter (story announcements, assorted bullshit.): @daddykevinp

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Story Code: MMbb/oral/anal/incest


A warm and humid night.  Crickets and soft moonlight.  An open window.
Curtains twitching in the breeze.  The sound of drowsy Ellicott Falls:
traffic, faint horns, water chuckling in river beds.

Two brothers alone in the younger one's bedroom.

Creamy white briefs and sleek, moist boyflesh.

The oldest brother you already know.  Ben Harrison.  Thirteen years old,
student at Calhoun Middle School.  Earlier today you watched him screw the
uber-slut, Jesse Peake.  His lanky frame is on display tonight.  You can
see how the weights he's recently begun to lift have blessed his frame.
Good, strong back and very developed pectorals for a boy his age.

He's sitting cross-legged, on the Boardwalk/Park Place side of the Monopoly
board, shaking the dice in his hand.  His shaggy hair, moist from his bath,
falls into his eyes.  Ben raises a nice bulge in his briefs.  Kid's got a
good-sized cock and potent balls.  The briefs, also damp, reveal through
the cotton a hint of pubic bush.  He's very proud of that.

Before Ben casts, he shoots a look over at his younger brother, Tim.  "Quit
looking at my balls!" he hisses.

His younger brother Tim lays on his stomach on the opposite side of the
board, chin propped on his hands, legs splayed.  Yep, the classic sexy boy
pose, you know, the one that makes you hornier than shit when your son or
your kid brother or the next-door neighbor that you're babysitting does it.
Sweet butt on display, caressed by white cotton.  Slender, small,
shapely. Look down there, deep between his legs, in that shadowed space.
Tim doesn't display a big nut bulge like his brother.  Nope.  This boy's
immature, a fifth grader, ten years old. Tim resembles but does not mirror
Ben. The brothers share the same dark brown hair, though Tim's is longer,
falling down to his shoulders and over his eyes.  His skin gleams as if
burnished with oil. Tim has luscious lips, the kind of lips that make
pedophiles stand up and unzip and point and say "Plant 'em right here,
kid."  Tim's body is thin, gangly, and undeveloped.  Tim likes to play
basketball at recess and run around with his school friends, especially the
Peake children.

Tim snickers.  "But your balls're right in my face!"

He says those words too loudly for Ben.  Ben looks over his shoulder at the
closed door.  "Shhh!  Mom'll hear!"

As well she might.  There are footsteps in the bathroom across the hall.
Mom is in there, picking up discarded towels and cleaning up after the
boys' baths.  More than likely, however, the sound of the television --
some zombie soap opera on an art channel -- emanating from the living room
downstairs drowned Tim's words.

But Ben's cautious.  He has to be.  This isn't the Peake family.

Ben throws the dice, scattering the deck of orange cards.  "Eleven!" The
big numbers always look thrilling when the dice roll to a stop, but they're
also the most portentous and mysterious.  You have to walk your piece, in
Ben's case the ship, to its destination.  You can't just see where you're
going to land. In this case it's Free Parking.

"Clumsy," mutters Tim, gathering up the cards and returning them to the
stack. "You're clumsy, Ben."

Ah yes.  A warm night.  Two boys in briefs.  You know where this is going
to go.  Unzip, if you've not already done so, and start churning some nut
butter.

Tim throws.  His piece -- the dog -- advances.  He frowns.  "Reading
Railroad?  I hate reading."  He digs two hundred-dollar bills from the
disorganized pile of money between his elbows and hands them to Ben, who,
as the elder, serves as banker.  Ben passes Tim the title.  Tim casually
tosses it into the pile of property he already owns.

The door creaks open.  Mom enters.  Her name is Elaine, and she is a
pleasant, warm woman in her middle thirties.  She isn't the type you'd
think would be the mother of a raving sex maniac like Ben Harrison.  She is
stable, kind, bright, not at all smothering.  She even bakes apple pie.
From scratch.

"Honies," Elaine says, "I know its Friday but don't stay up too late."

"Mom," Tin pleads, "can we go to the pool tomorrow?"

"Well, honey, I'm going to Bristol with some of my friends from church."
She smiles.  "Shopping.  I thought you boys would want to go."

Ben seizes his ears and begins twisting his head from side to side in mock
agony.  "No shopping!  No shopping!"

Mom laughs.  "I know, I know.  Well, your Dad's going in to work early, so
I know he can't take you to the pool himself.  What say I drop you off and
you ride home with your Dad?"

The two boys hoot in unison: "ALL RIGHT MOM!  ALL RIGHT MOM!"

She laughs.  "Keep it down in here.  Let me talk to Dad."  The door closes
behind her.

"The pool!" Ben says, dreamy-eyed.  You can tell he's hoping Jesse will be
there.  He knows his friend will be busy taking stud Marine cock up his
butt this weekend, but still a boy can dream.  A picture forms in his mind,
of Ben and Jesse alone in a stall in the pool bathroom, both boys smelling
of chlorine, their swim trunks at their feet, Jesse bent over the toilet,
Ben hammering at his buddy. Ben's five inch dick stiffens instantaneously
in his briefs.

Tim sees his brother's hardon.  He licks his lips.  His eyes get very
bright.  He really likes looking at the big teardrop shape in Ben's briefs.
The big nuts.  The long shaft.  The dark nimbus of pubic hair.  All
portents of a future which Tim is eager to embrace. When oh when will he
get pubic hair? "Your turn!"

The game now progresses with some urgency.  The boys roll.  Money is spent.
Property is acquired.  Soon the magic moment happens.  Tim rolls a three.
Hooray!  His dog advances to Boardwalk ... and he already owns Park Place!

"I'm gonna buy it!" Tim exclaims.

"Pay up!" Ben commands, palm extended in greedy-banker gesture.

Tim starts rifling through his money.  Damn!  It's all change.  Worthless
shit.  Fifties and twenties and fives.  Nowhere near enough.  He throws his
face into his money, pounds the carpet with his fists.  Despair! Unfair! He
looks at his brother.  "I don't have any money!" he whines.  Again he
throws his face forward into his worthless multicolored scrip.

Ben grins.  He stands up.  Outlined in his briefs his boner throbs.  "Well,
Tim, big brother can help."

Tim looks up.  He sees his brother's hard dick.  How could he look at
anything else?  Why would he look at anything else? He grins and scrambles
into a cross-legged sitting position.  His mouth drops open.  His tongue
wags.  He folds his arms in front of his chest, begging.

"Yeah, little Tim," croons Ben, stepping over the board, hooking his thumbs
behind the waistband.  "You just gotta help me out."

He pushes his crotch into Tim's face.  Tim sniffs at the clean white cotton
like a puppy.  The odor isn't the awesome funk Tim loves so much.  The
teenfunk Ben sports after the brothers have been wrestling, or the smell
that comes from his crotch after hefting weights in gym or after riding his
bike with his friends Jesse and the two Chrises.  But Tim isn't turning his
nose up at what Ben offers. Tim hankers after puberty, and unlike lots of
boys he knows the quickest way to get puberty to happen is to drink lots
and lots of hot semen, right from the tap.  And if in the process he's able
to acquire Boardwalk, so much the better!

"Please, Ben?" Tim begs.

"I don't know," whispers Ben, fondling himself.  "What's the magic word?"

"Pretty please, Ben?"

"I don't know, Tim."

"Oh, please, Ben, let me suck your dick!"

  Ben lowers his briefs, hooking the elastic under his smooth nuts.  His
dick slaps upright against his flat belly.  A crescent of crisp pubic hair
decorates the base of his boydick.

"Suckee, suckee," whispers Ben.

Tim lunges forward and engulfs his brother's meat.

Ben coos, "Nice," and begins caressing his brother's damp hair.

Slowly he begins to thrust, not wanting to make a lot of noise.  He can
hear his parents moving around downstairs and he knows from their
complaining when he and Tim wrestle the floor transmits vibration clearly.
But shit, he's thirteen, he's only nutted once today -- in Jesse Peake's
butt -- and he's frantic to let loose with his hot spunk.  He could do it
all night with Tim!  With anyone!

Tim's little three inch prick is now stiff in his fresh briefs, and as he
sucks off his brother he toys with it, kind of in the way you've seen a
young kid tug at his groin when he's got to pee.  Tim eagerly takes Ben's
dick all the way.  Ben's crisp and tightly-curled pubic hair tickles his
nose. His tongue even emerges to lick Ben's smooth pink nuts.

"Shit!" Ben hisses.  Fuck he's hot! His balls hammer against Tim's chin and
then he cuts loose, pouring out a few teaspoons of mostly clear sperm into
Tim's mouth.

Tim, humming happily, doesn't swallow what Ben has ejaculated.  He swishes
his brother's offering in his mouth as if it were mouthwash.

Ben, briefs still down below his balls, steps over to the money tray.  His
dick is still engorged though not quite as stiff and urgent. He plucks up a
five hundred dollar bill and gives it to Tim.  Tim gargles his brother's
ejaculation in hid open mouth, grinning happily, huge bubbles forming from
the mixture of semen and spit.  Tim then passes the bill back.  Ben takes
the bill and hands Tim a hundred dollar bill and the title to Boardwalk.

There are heavy steps outside the door.  Hurriedly Ben snaps his underwear
up.  Damn!  Tim's spit and dribbles of semen stain the fresh fabric.
Hurriedly he whirls and sits down in his spot.  "Quit playing with
yourself," he hisses.  "It's Dad!"

Tim's eyes go wide in surprise.  Quickly he stretches out on his belly to
hide his throbbing boyhood.  He won't swallow what Ben has put into his
mouth.  Not yet.  Stuff tastes yummy!  Smells awesome too!

Again the door creaks open.

Hank Harrison fills the door.  He is, of course, a big, muscled man.  Not
quite as tall as Keith but certainly no munchkin.  You'd see a build like
his in a boxing ring, or more likely in the mixed martial arts league.  The
boys inherited their mahogany hair from him and, when they mature, his
lantern jaw and his mirthful eyes.  He is wearing khaki cargo shorts and a
polo shirt and sandals.  He is Quite the Respectable Dad.

Not suspecting the heinous abuse that Ben just perpetrated upon Tim, Hank
grins at his sons.

"What's going on up here?" he asks.  He uses mock-serious tone.  The boys
know this tone and react appropriately.  If they'd really been in trouble
the walls would be rattling from Hank's thundering voice.

"Ah," says Ben, "little Timmy needed a lesson taught!"

Tim wiggles his eyebrows, still enjoying Ben's semen, and nods at his Dad.

Elaine appears behind her husband, encircling his trim waist and laying her
cheek against Hank's.  "Getting rambunctious, aren't you, honies?"

Tim swallows, and then hisses at Ben, "Is that what we were doing? Getting
rambunctious?"

"Mom," Ben calls over his shoulder, "Tim was trying to steal Boardwalk!"
He shoots a look at Tim that says you'd better back me up on this brother.

Tim's not a dense lad.  "Yeah, well ..."

"All right, boys," says Hank.  "Derambunctify yourselves.  Mom's going to
bed and I'm going to watch a bit more TV.  I don't want to hear a lot of
noise coming from this room.  Since this is your bedroom, Tim, you keep
your other brother quiet.  Do whatever it takes.  OK?"

"Sure, Dad!" Tim wiggles his eyebrows and shoots a surreptitious look at
Ben's bulging crotch.

"'Night, honies!" Elaine winks.

"Dad," says Ben, a little frustrated that his real concern hasn't been
addressed, "can we go to the pool tomorrow?"

"Please, Dad!" Tim pleads.  "Save us from the Bristol mall!"

Hank pretends to consider.  Of course he and Elaine have already discussed
this and worked out the logistics.  He nods.  "Sure, son.  All day?"

"Yeah!"

Hank glances at Elaine.  "We got suntan lotion here?  I think I used up my
stash down at the pool."

"In the bathroom, sweetie."

"All right, boys.  I got to be there are eight --"

"Dad, we don't have to get up early! Mom already said she'd take us!"

"Doesn't matter.  It's going to be an early morning for all of us.  No
sleeping in, so no staying up late.  I'll get you both up tomorrow."

The boys chorus, "ALL RIGHT DAD!  ALL RIGHT DAD!"

Hank grins. The door shuts.  Soft footsteps indicating that Mom's heading
for their parent's bedroom.  Slower, heavier steps on the stairs indicate
Dad is going down for more artistic zombie drama.

Tim giggles.  "You're still horny, Ben!"  His eyes feast on his brother's
groin.  He can still taste Ben's semen in his mouth. He's had lots of fun
with his brother ever since Ben started sprouting those magic hairs.  Tim
wonders what boy he'll molest when those hairs finally bloom on his own
groin.  There are definitely some boys in the neighborhood that he's
thought about coaxing into dropping their briefs as they've played, hidden
behind bushes and trees.

"Shhh!" Ben warns.  "Not yet!"  His hand drops to stroke his teendick as if
it were a favorite puppy.

"Yeah, well, Ben," says Tim, lifting up his hips and yanking his briefs
down so his ten year old butt, sleek and hairless, is displayed for his
brother to lust after.  "I'm ready any time you are!"

Ben is sorely tempted to crawl on top of Tim and pump away, but as I've
said this isn't the Peake family.  Caution is the word.

The game continues.  The dice scatter nervously again and again across the
board, revealing the will of fate.  Money ebbs and flows.  Houses soon
sprout, tiny green peas and then, as capitalism flourishes, the red cherry
hotels blossom.  The boys long ago devised their own rules.  One of these
allows them to build both houses and hotels on a property.  The outcome of
the game, thus unbalanced, hangs in the balance just like the fortunes of
America's apocalyptic capitalists.  Riches!  Poverty!  Bailouts from the
Fed! Riches again!  This particular scenario is quite boyish, not at all
like Wall Street. Nary a line of coke in sight.

Young Tim's butt, displayed so wantonly, in the end works as desired.
Ben's cock throbs harder and harder in his briefs as the dice fly.  So
stiff and urgent that teendick becomes that the seventh grader eventually
has to lower the elastic of his briefs once again beneath his balls.  He
sighs, scratching his nuts but not taking his eyes off Tim's buttcrack.
These are tactics both boys use on each other, trying to distract the
opponent through the power of sexual suggestion.

In the end it doesn't matter.  Ben's ship sails into perilous waters on
Broadway, where four hotels now loom.

"Dammit!" says Ben, shaking his head.  "That's it!  I'm broke!"

Tim wriggles his eyebrows.  "You know how I wanna get paid, Ben!"  He lifts
his butt and shimmies it from side to side.

"We can't!  Not now!  Dad's still watching TV!  He'll hear!"

"Not if you do it real slow and quiet."

"I don't know ..."

"Come on, Ben," Tim whispers.  "Do my butt!" The ten year old points a
finger at his nightstand.  Beneath the lamp -- a clown -- is a tub of
Vaseline, ostensibly there to deal with Tim's frequently chapped lips.
"Pay me eight grand or grease it up, big brother!"

Ben is horny enough to not think too much about Hank.  He stands, tugging
his briefs down lower.  His own ass is now displayed, lissome and
delectable.  He waddles to Tim's nightstand, digs out some Vaseline, and
smears it on his dick.  He wipes the excess off on a buttcheek.

Grinning, Tim lifts his butt and spreads his legs.  This kid wants to get
seeded by his big brother.

With practiced ease Ben kneels between Tim's gangly legs.  He lines his
dick up with Tim's pucker -- so small you can barely see it -- and stuffs
it inside. No love.  No finesse.  Just a hot kid shoving his cock where it
belongs.  A lock of brown hair surges over his eyes as Ben thrusts home
into that tight boycunt.

"Oh!" says Tim, a bit surprised.  It hurts a little, like it always does,
but he knows to ride it out. He subsides, relaxes, laying his head down
onto his folded arms as his brother begins to churn back and forth in
there.  Yeah!  He likes this.  He likes it a lot.  He loves the warm
feelings that spread through him, the electric tingles.  It always makes
him want to lift his butt and spread his legs and let everybody go for a
ride on his tight boybutt.  It's like Christmas, only every night!  There's
the wonderful nasty feeling, after Ben's juiced him, of a rectum drenched
with incestuous jism and a butthole greasy and slick.

All little brothers should have an older brother like Ben!

Ben?  He just likes fucking butt.  Tim's got a sweet one.  It clasps his
shaft as tightly as a hand.  Jesse's butthole is, of course, vastly more
talented -- the blond slut subconsciously knows how to squeeze on those
cocks he loves so much.  However, Jesse's butt has been absorbing foot long
daddycock for quite some time now, and there's nothing quite so exquisite
as sinking your dick into a butt that's not yet been stretched by long fat
manmeat.

Wait.  Why am I telling you this?  You're pedo.  You already know all about
tight boycunt.

"Faster!" Tim commands.  "Do it faster!"

Ben, resting on his elbows above his brother's back, succumbs to lust.  He
cuts loose, pummeling Tim's butt.  Greasy teendick slides in greasy
boycunt. The grin on his face turns into a sneer as the sense of domination
explodes from his balls.  Fuck yeah he loves to screw. Young jism boils in
his balls.  Flesh smacks incestuously against flesh.

There it is!

"Take it Tim!" Ben spits into his brother's ear.

A thin jet of semen gushes up Tim's tight rectum.  Ben's narrow hips pump
at his brother's butt and his balls, silky-smooth, pulse as they unload
into Tim's hungry butthole.

Footsteps.  Heavy footsteps sound in the hall.

"Shit!"  Ben hisses.

They've only got seconds, and they're still coupled!

Ben rolls off Tim, his pecker shiny with Vaseline and boyjism.  Frantically
he tugs his underwear up.  With horror he sees Tim, underwear down round
his knees, lying there with a goofy grin on his face, savoring the cum
soaking into his butt.

Feet right outside the door!  They're doomed! They'll sit him in front of
psychiatrists and force him to promise to NEVER EVER EVER buttfuck his baby
brother again!  And Tim?  They'll put him on talk shows as zombiefied
audiences sob uncontrollably over the agony he endured!

He's the older brother.  He's got to do something!  Ben must save them both
from the clutches of mainstream America!

Ben yanks Tim's briefs up.

"Ow!" Tim yells.  Wedgie! His balls might be immature but they're still
sensitive.  Ben's not going to get away with this! Tim rolls over and
lunges for his brother.

Crash!  A pile of arms and legs, young boys in briefs, wrestling furiously.

The house shakes.

Hank Harrison once again opens the door.

Pay close attention to his expression.  Do you see the incipient anger of a
father about ready to explode?  Perhaps briefly, but it swiftly drains
away.

You see eyes narrow, and focus. And if you were to follow his gaze you
would see his eyes focused exclusively on his two son's briefs.

The boys tumble over each other on the floor, which quivers as if a herd of
Oprahs thundered down the hall.  Ben is stronger and certainly more
massive, but Tim is valiant and clever, and knows all the holds Ben likes
to use.  The contest isn't as uneven as you'd expect.  It isn't the size of
the dog in the fight but the size of the fight in the dog.

Hank, frozen, locked in internal conflict, licks his lips.

The boys tumble, rambunctifying furiously.

Yep. You knew it

Hank readjusts his cock in his pants.

Jesus H. Christ, his sons look sexy as hell.  His sons are fucking
hot. Tight asses, hard, muscular, round and boyish.  Images Hank's long
surprised come flooding back into his mind. He pictures his rough hairy
hands clamping those cheeks.  Ben's first, yes.  Those dimpled buttcheeks
beg for a dad's attention.  But also young Tim, the fifth grader, who Hank
had once been pretty sure would be safe from his depraved desires for a few
years more, little Tim whose butt is round like a pair of perfect snowballs
in briefs that are now riding low enough to reveal boy buttcrack.

Goddamn, Hank thinks.  Goddamn.

Ben, sensing they've just dodged a bullet, decides to show Tim who's the
boss.  He manages to hoist his brother aloft, holding him by one leg and
one torso.

"Settle down, Tim, settle down!" he barks.  He turns, grinning, staggering
towards tall, silent Hank, whose eyes glitter beneath furrowed brows. "Hey,
Dad!  Look what I caught --"

Tim thrashes wildly and Ben loses his balance, lurching to one side.
Disaster!  One bare foot lands on the Monopoly board.  Game flies one way,
two boys the other.  Crash!  A heavy thud, followed by loud squawking.
Hotels, houses, ship, dog, and money litter the floor.

"Hank!" Elaine yells from the master bedroom at the end of the hall.
"Settle your boys down!"  There is iron in her voice.

"Enough!" Hank chokes out. He meant that word to emerge more forcefully,
but he can't.

Fortune presents to his smoldering eye is Ben's naked ass.

See, when the seventh grader fell his butt landed first, and the impact and
subsequent skid hauled his briefs down.  Both buttcheeks are on display
now, sweet thirteen year old assflesh, as he twists round to his knees in
order to stand.

The smear of Vaseline glistens on one cheek.

Hank sees that smear.  His eyes dart to the tub of Vaseline on Tim's
nightstand.  Then back to Ben's butt.  Yeah.  Ben's butt.  He swallows.

"Enough!" Hank barks more forcefully.  But a ghostly smile now plays on his
lips.

Ben, back still turned, hauls his underwear up.  He turns and forces a
grin.  Did Dad see his greasy cock?

Hank has of course checked little Tim's butt out as well.  Unfortunately
the scamp is chastely discrete.  His briefs cover almost everything that
might incite Hank to give in.  Only a little hint of buttcrack is visible
just beneath the elastic...

"Anything broken?" Hank remembers to ask.

Ben turns.

Of course Hank notices Ben's briefs are stained in the crotch.  Yes, he's
that kind of father, though he tries hard not to seem to be that way. Hank
finds Ben's stained crotch ... odd Hank fished the boys' clean briefs from
their dressers himself, checking carefully to make sure his kids had
stuffed a used pair in with their clean clothes.  Those briefs had been
clean as a whistle not an hour ago, the way Elaine always kept them.

The stain on Ben's bulge reminded Hank of oil.  Of -- Vaseline?

No.  It couldn't be that.  Because that would mean --

"We're OK, Dad," says Ben, who pops Tim on the arm when the younger one
doesn't answer.

"Dad," whines Tim, face red and eyes flashing, "Ben assaulted me!"

Hank sighs.  He cannot give in.  Elaine is down the hall. He must be a
Dad. "Yes he did," says Hank.  "And both your mother and I have had enough.
Tim, get in your pajamas.  Bedtime for both you bozos."

Tim scampers to his dresser and rips open a drawer, yanking out his
pajamas.  As he steps into the bottoms he cuts a loud wet fart.  He and Ben
exchange sheepish looks.

"And you," says Hank, jabbing a finger at Ben.  "In your room.  Now."

"Sure, Dad."  Ben scurries around Hank and hustles down the hall to his
room.

"Dad," whines Tim, now clad in pajama bottoms but still shirtless.  "Do I
have to clean up this mess?" He indicates the wreckage of the Monopoly
game.

Hank sucks in a breath.  Now his eyes roam up and down Tim's lithe form.
Tiny nipples on that scrawny chest.  Pouty lips.  Dark locks hanging over
his innocent eyes.

Elaine has been nagging him to buy little Tim some new pajamas, since the
tyke is on the verge of outgrowing his current sets.  But Hank has resisted
for reasons he'll never tell Elaine.  The fabric is tight on his youngest
son's body.  Sexy.  Alluring.  Almost begging Hank to reach out, rip them
off Tim's body, throw the boy face down on his bed and succumb to those
desires that rage in the big man's balls.

"Not tonight," Hank says.  With his eyes locked on Tim's he adjusts his
crotch again.  He sees his son's eyes drop down there.  He fondles himself
then lets his hand drop to his side. "You get to bed, hear?"

"OK, Dad."  Tim tugs on his PJ shirt and leaps into bed.  He tugs
Mr. Ruffles, his favorite teddy, to himself after burrowing under the
covers.

Hank switches off the light.  Closes the door behind him.  His breath his
heavy and labored.  He is about to turn --

Don't do it.  Don't give in.  You can't.

Hank checks on Ben.  His oldest son lies in the bed, heavy covers piled at
the foot, just a sheet pulled up to his small nipples.  Ben doesn't wear
pajamas.  He's a teenager now.  He sleeps in briefs.  Elaine hadn't cared
for that, but Hank had reminded his wife that their kids were growing,
changing, and they must accommodate themselves to this.

"'Night, son."  Two words are all Hank can manage. What he really wants to
do is peel open his shorts and show Ben the giant cock that sired him.
Look at it, boy!  Look at your Daddy's cock!  Touch me, Ben!  Play with my
--

But Elaine isn't more than twenty feet away.

"'Night, Dad." Tentatively: "We still going to the pool tomorrow?"

Hank grins.  "If you can get your sleepy, lazy ass out of bed."

Ben laughs.

Hank flicks the light off and closes the bedroom door behind him.

At the top of the stairs he hears Elaine call: "Are they in bed, sweetie?"

"Yes," Hank says.  "Both of 'em."

Alone.

Hank descends the stairs.  The living room is dim.  There is only a table
lamp giving illumination in addition to the light from the flat screen.  On
the wall, on either side of the television: Hank in a naval lieutenant's
uniform, Elaine in her wedding dress.  Hank in a suit, along with the staff
of the First Methodist Church.  Hank in another suit, standing alongside
Keith Peake and other men, cutting a ribbon in front of a glass door where
CHATAUQUA COUNTY BOYS' CLUB is stenciled.  Hank is a CCBC Scouts uniform.
And, of course, Uncle Zebulon Harrison, bearded, broad-shouldered, his arm
thrown round the shoulder of eleven year old Hank Harrison.

Sighing, Hank sits down in his recliner.  He strokes his crotch a few
moments, just the way Ben had not too long ago. He picks up the remote.
Screw this zombie bullshit. He flips the channel to one of the ESPN
networks.

This show is what Hank has been burning to watch all night.  Sure, it's a
replay.  But it's the national Little League championship. Boy in tight
baseball uniforms.  Fuck yeah.

Sitting there Hank pets his groin, wishing one of the Peake kids was here.
Yeah, Jesse.  The blond with the sweet butt.  He'd put Jesse on the floor,
remove the boy's clothes one item after another, then roll him over onto
his hands and feet and feed the kid big, throbbing adult cock now leaking
copiously.  Maybe even young Kevin.  Hank knows that Keith has finally
penetrated the ass of his sexy eleven year old son.  Hank yearns to do the
same.

His mind -- some part of it anyway -- tries to shy away from his other
thoughts.  Thoughts that hit too close to home. Thoughts that, maybe
instead of Jesse on his hands and knees, butt wagging and slick with
Vaseline, that maybe it should be Ben's.

Elaine.  If you weren't here I'd do it.

Hank doesn't like to acknowledge how badly he burns to fuck his own
offspring.  But he's fully cognizant of the desire.  How could he not?  His
big cock tents in his pants, and his fingers caresses it, and visions of
boys in briefs, of Vaseline-smeared buttocks, of young flesh naked
wrestling madly in a dark room, of tight pajamas with the waistband
stretched by a big, hairy adult hand.

Look at it, Ben.  Look at your Dad's cock.  See it, boy?  See my Daddy
dick?

Hank wants to see shocked eyes staring up at him.  Fuck that.  No.  He
wants to see terrified eyes adoring his goddamn fat hairy adult cock.

He wants to hear Ben -- or Time? -- whimper and say, "Dad, it's too big,
take it out!"

Hank knows he can't.  He knows it's wrong.

But he wants it.

Hank wants to be a bad Dad.  I wanna fuck my kids!

For a long while he watches on the TV the slim youths play on the field.
He almost pulls his cock out for a good, satisfying nutbuster.  But he
holds off.  The Chatauqua County Boy's Club is always there.  Elaine won't
be around.  He can slip away, leaving Ben and Tim to play at the pool, and
drain his nuts into some hot teen butt.  He'll keep his hands off his cock,
his nuts full of seed. No one in his family need know how much juice he
injects.  Or how many times.

After a while Hank Harrison shuts off the TV.

A warm night.  It is late.  The town is quiet.  All he can hear is his own
labored breathing.  And the rustle of fabric as his big cock leaps like a
porpoise in his boxers.

He climbs the stairs and makes his way to the bedroom he shares with
Elaine.  Inside he strips down to his boxers.

Hank lays on his back next to his wife.  Her breathing steadies.  Outside
crickets chirp.  Not even a car moves down the suburban street.

Boy briefs.  Wrestling boys.

His ten inch daddycock throbs hard against his boxers.

Sons in briefs.  Wrestling sons.

His cock throbs and leaks into his boxers.

Ben.  Alone.  In his room.  Right now.  Waiting --

Hank can't.  He's not Keith Peake. He's a Dad, good and true.

Hank rolls to his side, afraid he's about to spew jism all over the place.

Sometime later his breathing slows and he sleeps.



Hank Harrison awakens after a night of depraved dreams.  Having a huge
hardon, he reaches over to feel if Elaine is still in the bed with him.
Even though he saved himself last night, intending to pour out everything
during one long session at the CCBC, his balls feel like two huge balloons
filled with steaming gravy.  He's got to breed.

Only ... Elaine isn't there.  Damn.

Oh well. He rolls out of bed, pulls on a tee shirt.  He yawns.  He
stretches.  Still his cock throbs, dripping snot. Damn.  Gotta get
moving. He thinks of kittens being mangled in wood chippers.  Yes, that
does it.  Hardon sinks like the Titanic.  But his goddamned balls feel like
grenades.

He pads down the hallway to the head of the stairs.  The smell of coffee
and frying bacon makes his mouth water.

"Elaine!  Boys down there?"

"No, sweetie, they're still asleep.  Could you wake them up?"

"Will do."

Hank opens Tim's door.  The long drawn-out creak doesn't disturb his ten
year old son.  Tim still snuggles with Mr. Ruffles.  Mr. Ruffles is about
two-thirds Tim's size, and was won at the county fair a few years back.

Though the creak didn't disturb Tim Hank's heavy footsteps do.  Tim's
already yawning before Hank touches his shoulder. "Wake up, sleepyhead."
Hank grins down at his son.

"I'm awake, Dad."  Tim rolls away from Mr. Ruffles.  This cannot be hidden:
his three inch dick has grown stiff pressed against Mr. Ruffles and is
outlined perfectly in his PJs.

Hank swallows. Blood begins to surge back into Hank's cock.  The crotch of
his boxers is suddenly tight. "I see that.  I'm gonna go and wake your
brother up.  He's not going to get out of bed, so I want you in five
minutes to go down there and jump into bed with him.  Get him up, or you
won't go to the pool today."

"All right, Dad."  Tim surges forward and grabs him round the thigh.
"Please, Dad, if Ben won't get up, leave him here and take me!  PUH-LEEZE!"

Hank smiles.  He can feel his son's body heat rising through the open legs
of his boxers.  Dangerous.  Very dangerous.  He ruffles Tim's hair.  "I
promise, honey.  Not let me go."

Once again thoughts of mangled kittens allow him to keep his dark desires
secret, safely hidden behind cotton and warm, friendly eyes.

Ben's room will be the challenge.  Hank just knows it. On the way there he
must picture kittens and puppies, meowing and yelping piteously for their
lives as that grim, unknown hand pitched them one by one to their
mechanical doom.  Even then he's not sure that he's not showing cockhead
below the hem of his boxers.

Ben sleeps on his belly and, since the night was quite warm, Ben has pushed
the sheet down to his thighs.

Hank must pause here and stare at his son's ass.

Those small buns are exquisitely displayed by the white cotton.  Even
though that young flesh is covered it seems to Hank that his son is even
more revealed to him than he had been last night, with those same briefs
down off his ass.  No need to be furtive. Ben's briefs reveal the place
where his spine transitions into buttcrack.  Tantalizing. It makes Hank
want to lick his son there, right above that tight band of elastic.  Then
lick lower, and deeper, seeking ... seeking what Hank wants. Ben's ass is
rounder and fleshier than Jesse Peake's slender buns, due; Hank is sure, to
the weight training regime Ben's begun.  But Ben has a pucker hidden in
that crack, a pucker tight and virginal, characteristics Hank has never
experienced with Jesse Peake.

Fragments of his deviant dreams whirls round him.

Ben has a hot butt.  Each cheek palm sized.  Each cheek smooth as satin.

Hank's boxers tent enormously as his cock burgeons into ten inches of
rampant Daddy lust. His breath quickens.  He licks his lips.  His face
reddens. He touches himself.

Damn.  Damn.

Look at your Daddy, Ben!  Look at Daddy's big cock!  Fuck, son, I wanna
stuff it up your butt!

Suddenly he stops, his thumbs hooked in the waistband of his boxers, ready
to rip them down.

Deep breath.  Release.  Get hold of yourself, Harrison.

"Hank!" Elaine calls faintly from downstairs.  "Get those boys down here!
Now!"

He sighs.  His hand tugs down the hem of his tee shirt.  But you can't hide
a ten inch daddycock with a fig leaf.  No, you need a palm leaf, an oak
bough --

He walks over to Ben, shakes his son's shoulders roughly.

"Wha-- what?" Ben asks groggily.  His half-closed eyes are hidden by his
shiny brown hair.

"Get up, sleepyhead.  Get dressed.  If you're not up and ready to go when
your Mom leaves you'll spend the day here all by yourself."

Ben wipes the sleep from his eyes, yawning.  "Yeah, sure, Dad."  He rolls
over onto his back, arching his back like a feline.  His crotch bulges.
Yes.  The pure white cotton is clearly stained with something oily.

Hank turns.  His cock juts behind the concealing fabric.  Does Ben see it?
He can't be sure.  Ben might be lying there with closed eyes, or with
half-opened eyes. Hank hopes his kid can see it.  He really fucking does.

Honey, it was just a piss hardon.  Would that work?

He stares down at his boy, his eyes roaming all that smooth flesh.  Those
tiny nipples.  Those forming pectorals.  That light down in his armpits and
on his forearms.

Yeah, son, look at it.  Look at your Daddy!

Do you know what Daddy does with this cock, boy? Daddy wants to show you.
Daddy wants to show you lots of nasty, fun things.  The things only a man
can teach a foxy youngster like you, Ben.

"Don't be late!" He turns.  Before he leaves, he barks, "I mean it, Ben.
Get your ass up!"

Into the hall bathroom.  His hardon subsides a bit.  His boxers and his tee
shirts pool on the floor.  He runs the water in the shower until the water
flows good and warm, and then climbs in, pulling the curtain closed.  His
engorged meat slaps against his thighs like a long sock full of sand.
Quickly he washes hair and face.  Then he squirts a palm full of lather in
his hand, smears it on his face, and begins shaving.

The door opens.

"Dad!"  It's Ben.

"Yeah?"

"I gotta piss.  I mean pee."

"You can say piss to me," says Hank.  "But not to Mom.  Go ahead.  Just
tell me when you're gonna flush."

"Sure, Dad."

Half-shaved, the big man shifts out of the stream.  He doesn't want to be
in the middle of his shave when Ben flushes.

And also...

It's difficult to hear over the sound of the water.  But there it is.  The
clink as Ben lifts the lid.

Should he?

Hell yeah, he should.

Hank tugs the curtain back just a bit.

Yep, there it is.  For the second time this morning.  His son's ass.
Correction.  His son's hot, sexy, fuckable thirteen year old ass. The
grease spot on his buttcheek is large, having soaked into the cotton
overnight.  How did it get there?  Hank can picture many ways, none
plausible.  He imagines one way he'd definitely like to get Vaseline on
Ben's butt.  Hank definitely enjoyed his dreams of that particular method.

But he can never let that scenario play out.

Why?

Mom!  MOM!  DADDY FUCKED ME!

Cold feminine eyes brimming with iron-hard hate.

Hank admires the V-shape of Ben's torso, his son's satin skin, but his eyes
feast on those pert young globes.

A dangerous light suffuses Hank's eyes.  Feral.  Wild.  Predatory. He licks
his lips.  His upper lip curls into a sneer.

You got a hot ass, son.  It's driving Dad crazy.

Shit he'd love to step out of this shower, rip those briefs off --

Mostly concealed by the shower curtain Hank watches Ben lower the front of
his briefs.  The cotton slips down a bit in the back.  Slivers of smooth
round buttocks taunt Hank.

Hank imagines Ben turning his head to look over his shoulder, normal
youthful innocence replaced by wantonness. Come touch me, Dad.  Come touch
my hot young butt.  The way you touch those other boys, those other boys
you think I don't know about.

Blood gushes into his cock.  Daddycock stands tall and proud.

His son stands in front of the toilet, legs parted.  Fuck yeah.  Down
there, from behind, Hank sees Ben's mature nuts, swelling the fabric.

His son's golden stream begins pouring into the toilet bowl.

You wanna watch me piss, Ben?  Yeah, boy, your Dad'll show you something.
I piss like a fucking racehorse out of this thing.  Yeah.  And piss ain't
the only thing that comes out.

The bathroom is small enough that Hank could reach from where he lurks and
rip those briefs off.

Hank's cock throbs.

Ben gushes on, sighing, oblivious.

Do I want to do this?  Should I do this? Goddammit, boy, do you realize
what you're making your father feel?

Hank's eyes blaze with lust.  His balls churn with the need to seed.

Yeah.  Do it, man.  Go for it.  If you're quick, and cover his mouth to
stifle his hollering, it'll be safe. Don't say a word, Ben.  Don't you ever
tell anyone what I just fucking did to you.

He feels his nuts grow ever heavier as they conjure up, as if from nowhere,
more and more sperm to blast into his hot son.

Hank opens the shower curtain wider, enough to reveal his enormous
throbbing hardon to Ben.  If his son would just turn around, Ben would see
Hank standing there, pretty much fully revealed, his huge cockhead smacking
against his belly several inches above his navel.  Skin flushed.  Fists
clenched.  Daddy ready to fuck his boy.

Yeah, boy.  See that?  See what I got?  See that big motherfucker?  That's
your Daddy's cock, Ben!

Hank stares at the slivers of revealed buttflesh, at the smooth teardrops
his son's ass makes in his briefs.  Any real father -- meaning a man with
big stud balls, goddammit! -- who saw such as sight as Ben presented would
have to wonder what it would feel like to bury his big throbbing, hairy
manshaft in his son's unfucked teenaged butthole.

This is like living one of Hank's deviant dreams.  Except that Ben won't
turn, to see what his Dad's showing off.  And that Hank won't step out of
the tub, nothing but rape on his mind.

The diminishing sound of Ben's stream gives Hank ample warning.  But,
grooving on the risk he's taking, he stretches this moment out.  The risk.
Yeah, man, the thrill from the risk of discovery. He stands there, obsessed
with his son's hot ass, his ten inch daddycock exposed, throbbing,
incriminating, and lust-filled, until the last possible second.

Then he releases the shower, hiding what he so longs to show his boy.

"Dad!  I'm gonna flush!"  Ben smoothly pulls up his briefs over his teen
meat.

"Go ahead," says Hank.  His legs tremble as if he's run a marathon.

Ben flushes the toilet.  The shower turns white hot.  Steam boils round
Hank.

"See you at breakfast, Dad!"

"Put your trunks on," Hank hollers after Ben.

He is sorely tempted to jack off but he just doesn't have the time.  Heh.
And why should he?  Since Elaine's going to be in Bristol all day, surely
he can sneak over to the Boy's Club at least once...

Hurry up and finish, Hank.  You're not merely a pedophile; you're a
prominent man in Ellicott Falls with duties and responsibilities too.

He dresses in blue beach shorts.  Thin, worn cotton. Commando because fuck
yeah and hey kid look at my swinging daddycock.  Polo shirt.  Hank tucks
wallet and keys into his pockets.  He checks himself in the mirror to make
sure he's not showing cocksnot.

Hank's entrance interrupts typical morning boisterousness. His family sits
around the little dining table tucked into the kitchen's sunniest nook.  On
the red-and-white checked tablecloth steam plates of friend eggs, bacon,
pancakes.  A pitcher of cold orange juice is paired with a pot of coffee.
Elaine beams at him.  Ben and Tim are munching on crispy bacon, legs
swinging, still arguing over who won last night's Monopoly game.

Hank wolfs down his food.  He's running late and, as the owner and
possessor of the keys, he doesn't have the luxury of dawdling.  Rising,
dabbing syrup from his lips with a napkin, he asks Elaine, "What time will
you be back tonight?"

"Late, sweetie," she says.  "I'd say about nine or ten."  She looks
conspiratorial.  "Marcie wants to drive up to Abingdon."

"Well, boys," says Hank, "you missed arts and crafts.  How's that?"

"HOORAY!"  The muffled cheer results in Tim blowing a flurry of half-chewed
pancakes onto his plate.

Hank grins. "I thought you'd say that.  Leave me some money in the bank,
will you, honey?"

Elaine laughs.  "Whatever for?"

"Pizza tonight, guys?"

"I wanna barbecue some burgers!" says Tim.

"Sure thing, bud.  Well, I'm off.  Drop 'em off on your way, sweetie.  Call
me when you get there"

"See ya in a bit, Dad!" calls Ben.  Do his eyes flick to his Dad's crotch,
where Hank's somnolent meat sways against the cotton?  Of course they do.
What boy can resist the glimpse of fully adult cock?

The Harrison residence is in a newer subdivision south of Broad Street.
Hence the lawns are vast, the trees scrawny, and the streets meander as
they search for the atmosphere lost when the original trees were chopped
down.  New SUVs -- folks in this income bracket do not worry about gas
prices -- squat in driveways next to Priuses and other token sops to lost
greenery.

Hank's drive is short.  A few turns, a tussle with Broad Street chaos, and
then Hank's truck enters an older part of Ellicott Falls.  Oaks line the
streets.  Old brick commercial buildings slumber beneath ivy.  Modernity
intrudes as he passes the Chatauqua County Boy's Club.  So does an
incipient erection.  Hank strokes himself, thinking about those hallways,
full of running, shouting boys.

Much safer than thinking of his boys in creamy white briefs.

Welcome to Harrison Pool.

Beyond the CCBC buildings rises the Natatorium of Harrison Pool.  Concrete
supports and smoked glass.  It is one of the taller buildings in Ellicott
Falls, necessary to contain the diving platforms.  The public pool, which
occupies the remainder of the block, is definitely more plebeian.  More
earthy.  A chain link fence encloses it.  Cinderblock dressing rooms.  A
shack where the cashiers will set up.  A long clapboard arcade -- which
Hank knows does need to be painted -- where video games tease quarters from
the hands of sexy tykes.

Hank's cock swells as he pictures hordes of young boys, wet swimsuits
clinging to supple young flesh, running around his pool. Hank's proclivity
for young male flesh is the sole reason Hank built the pool.  He must --
because he is eminent in Ellicott Falls -- maintain a facade of
respectability.

Keeping up appearances can be difficult.  So far Hank has done it.  But
those boys of his...

 These two blocks, one where the CCBC squats, the other where Harrison Pool
thrives, constitute Hank Harrison's private pleasure palace.

Hank has always loved the water.  Descending from a poorer sprig of the
Harrison tree, the only place he was able to swim when he was a lad was at
his Uncle Zebulon's farm, several miles up the Buck River from town.  Hank
smiles, remembering Uncle Zebulon.  A big, rugged, bearded man who flung
bales of hay into wagons but who had time to teach Hank to swim.  Uncle and
nephew had splashed together in a deep pool of still water, communicating
with the Buck through narrow channels hidden by thickets of laurel and
sleepy willows.

Even to this day Hank can remember how Uncle Zebulon's eyes had flashed
when he asked his ten-year-old nephew if he'd ever seen a grown man naked
before.  The thrill young Hank had experienced when Uncle Zebulon ripped
away his wet shorts, revealing the full glory of his hairy, strong, adult
male body, was a sensation Hank still chased, albeit in a different
fashion.  He remembers so many things from that momentous day.  Of how
easily Uncle Zebulon -- never Zeb -- had persuaded Hank to remove his own
tight white briefs, clinging sopping wet to his young body.  Of how it felt
to be naked with an adult man.  Of swimming naked in that still pool of
water dappled by sunlight.  Of how Uncle Zebulon's chest had felt on Hank's
back, of how the man's cock had throbbed against Hank's buttcheek.  Hank
had squealed with pleasure as Zebulon's hand teased his ten year old dick
into steely erection. Most clearly of all, Hank remembers that moment when
Uncle Zebulon hoisted him dripping from the water, Zebulon's strong hands
cupped on Hank's immature buttocks, and carried his naked, giggling, erect,
cooing nephew to the towel spread on the banks where a patch of sunlight
pierced the canopy of leaves.  Hank remembers crouching there, anticipating
something he couldn't image but knew would be awesome, waiting on hands and
knees, watching Uncle Zebulon dig out a tub of Vaseline.  Ah yes.  The
smooth creamy sensation of petroleum jelly on his tight butthole.  The
blazing agony of first penetration.  And then the warm contentment when his
uncle's nine inch cock was fully sheathed in young Hank's tender, tight,
ten year old guts.

Yep.  Hank's delight in man/boy copulation had begun right then and right
there, with his uncle's cock up his quivering butthole. Best way every
devised of ending a day of frolicking in a pool.

Some days later, after copulating with his uncle on the same bed Zebulon
shared with Aunt Beulah, Hank remembers his uncle's response after Hank
asked him which of his sons he'd taught this "special trick."  Zebulon had
sadly shaken his head.  "We Harrison's don't do it with our own sons."

That had been the most wonderful summer of Hank's life.  A ten year old
boy, traipsing and frolicking in green fields in what seemed to be eternal
sunshine, with what felt like a gallon of his uncle's semen sloshing in his
butt.

"What's this stuff do?" Hank asked Zebulon once, having just dug out of his
greasy butt a dollop of Zebulon's seed.

"It makes babies," panted Zebulon.  His forearm was thrown over his
face. "If you put it in a woman."

"And what happens when you put it up a boy?" Hank had asked, wonderingly,
watching the slime descend from his fingers like a spider on that liquid
strand.

"It gives the boy a big cock when he grows up!" Zebulon had tousled Hank's
hair, flipped his nephew over, and buried his cock once again in that
cumsloppy hole.

Naturally Hank attributes his own ten inch cock to all the nutbutter his
sweet young butt so greedily drank from Zebulon's manly cock.

Uncle Zebulon also endowed Hank with the ability to finance Harrison
Pool. Uncle Zebulon had been a canny man, selling his shares in a Virginia
coal mines just before the brief Hippie Ascendency of the '70s -- which,
like all things, came with vices as well as virtues -- shut the mines down,
condemning an altered poor people to even deeper poverty -- but, on the
other hand, no longer feeding the great furnaces poisoning the planet.
Clever Zebulon, sensing the incipient revival of feudalism, had sunk the
proceeds into property around Chatauqua County and other places, preserving
his wealth.

Zebulon had been a strong, healthy man when the incestuous buttfucking
between uncle and nephew ended when Hank went to Annapolis.  No doubt
Zebulon took up with other boys after Hank left.  But Zebulon never forgot
the pleasure Hank's butt had given him.  When a heart attack carried away
Zebulon Hank discovered that, while Zebulon had provided for his own
offspring and for a few other young men who had doubtlessly yielded their
cherry butts to Zebulon in that pool of sunlight, he had bequeathed the
lion's share of his wealth to Hank.  And Hank, who had by this time spent
ten years of his life growing sick of endless wars fought for the glory of
Exxon-Mobile, immediately retired from the Navy and returned to Chatauqua
County.

Hank liked to picture Zebulon in an afterlife where all the boys who
perished, either through mischance or murder or warfare launched by greedy
overlords, got at last to frolic with big, powerful men who liked to do
nothing but please sweet young butt. Dappled by sunlight for all eternity.
This was not an image Hank could preach to his Sunday School class, but he
let it fuel his life.

Harrison Pool was not a vanity project but a shrine to his uncle and to the
glorious beauty of adolescent -- and teen -- and younger -- boys.

Pulling into the parking lot on the west side of the Natatorium, Hank feels
hot precum leaking from his cock onto his groin fur.  A man like Hank,
working in an environment where young boys slice through all that clean
water like dolphins, emerging from the water with wet trunks clinging to
small, round asses, spends a life perceptually erect.  His wife, a warm
woman, has benefitted from Hank's potency.  So too have many boys, here at
Harrison Pool, and across the street in the Chatauqua County Boy's Club.

Harrison Pool didn't net him much of a profit, but it did well enough. Hank
ran it according to his own sense of how things should be done.  The
outdoor pool Hank opened as soon as he felt the weather was warm enough,
often far earlier than other pools traditionally did.  He wanted those
young teen boys -- unconsciously sexy -- in view as much as possible.  The
Natatorium, which generated a substantial amount of his income since the
local schools and the CCBC paid fees to hold competitions there, hosted
indoor swimming in the winter months but was reserved in the summer for
swimming and diving competitions.

Late?  Yes. Three of his lifeguards loitered near the office entrance,
laughing and bullshitting.  Sweet teenaged meat.  Fuck yeah. Hank swaggers
towards them, keys jingling.

His favorite? This spring it's young Owen Bradley, a sixteen year old who
swam on the George Washington High team.  Lithe, blond, his golden flesh
gleams in the morning sun. He has just begun working for Hank a few weeks
ago.

Grinning, he eases up to his boss, palming a good sized teen hardon in his
trunks. "You're late, Boss!" he laughs.

Quick check.  No prying eyes. Hank cups Owen's butt.  "Yeah, well, there's
no one to fire me, Owen."  Owen had taut, round buttocks, smooth as silk,
tasty as honey.

Owen presses his butt against Hank's hand, biting his lips and looking at
the big, muscled man shyly.  "You, uh, wanna like to have some fun before
we open up?"

"I'll open your ass up later, kid," says Hank. He finds the master key on
his ring.  Hank clearly recalls how Owen's moans had echoed off the tile of
Hank's private shower when the kid first had his ass stuffed with mancock,
just a few weeks ago.  The huge load dribbling down the tile, fired there
by his cock as Hank's ten inch strokes drive Owen into orgasmic bliss.

The other two boys, grinning, fondle their own proud teenmeat.  They are
the brothers Logan and Justin Sparks.  Both are seniors at the high school.
Logan just won a scholarship to a large university but Hank's pretty sure
he won't take it.  Logan's a true mountain boy.  Got two kids already, on
two different girls.  It's his eyes, Hank is sure.  Logan's eyes send the
message: I'm hot in the sack and I want to fuck.  They are blue and dreamy.
His lips are full and pouty, the right kind to nibble on a clit or on cock.

Justin, just turned seventeen, is also tall like Logan.  He's a friend of
the famous stoner, Chase Peake, and though he's on the GWHS basketball team
he's not the star player, nor does he want to be.  He's grinning at Hank, a
mostly-smoked joint hanging from his lips, and the teen is palming his
groin.

"So what's the news?" Hank asks.

Justin grins.  "I got Cathy Sue pregnant!"

High fives all round. Hank likes hanging with breeders.  Not so much
weed. Hank grabs the roach from Justin's mouth and flings it away.  "Don't
smoke that where I can see it."

Justin grins sheepishly.  "Sorry, Boss."  He knows the rules but, a horny
teen, can't always remember them.

"Let's go, guys, and get this motherfucker opened up.  We're going to be
busy today."  Hank releases Owen's silky young ass.  His eyes fixate on
Justin's lips.  Justin, the new young daddy.  Yeah. "Justin," he says,
grinning, "You're with me."

Grinning brightly, Justin follows.  Owen looks disappointed.  He'd been
hoping for some big daddycock up his ass.  But Hank is the boss and his
whims prevail.

Hank unlocks the equipment room and sets Owen to scooping out leaves and
detritus from the pool.  Logan is assigned to stock the lifeguard towers
with floats, life preservers, first aid kits, and suntan lotion.  The girl
who ran the Slurpee Shack arrives right after the pH is checked so Hank
hustles to unlock the register and stock it with cash and change.  Through
this Justin tags along, licking his lips, his hardon prominent in his
trunks.  Hank is about to take Justin into the arcade when the cashier,
Heather, a hot nineteen year old girl who really turns the teen boys on,
arrives, forcing another delay.  Justin tugs his shirt over his bulging
groin but struts for her.  This is one of the reasons Hank hired her.

At last Hank is able to say tot Justin.  "Got some extra work for you
... daddy." He smirks.

Justin grins and follows Hank to the arcade, still empty and screened off
from feminine eyes.  Hank opens the circuit breaker cabinet, flips
switches, and the machines begin booting.

"Didn't think Cathy Sue would let you fuck her without a rubber," says
Hank, stroking Justin's spine under his tee shirt as he leads the teen down
the row of machines.

Justin shivers and throws his arm round Hank's waist.  "Well, boss, she
don't check before I put it up her! Once I realized that ... "he winks.
"Fuck!  It was hot!  I juiced her, boss, I mean it was all leaking from her
cunt when I pulled out!"

"She didn't notice?"

"Well, yeah she did, but fuck what could she do?"

Fist bump. "All right!"  Hank smiles, feeling both benevolent and predatory
towards this young daddy.  Yeah, pretty lips.  Time to restock the teen's
supply of daddymilk.  At the end of the long hall, in a niche just past all
the consoles, Hank drops his shorts and spreading his thighs.  "You know
what to do, Justin."

"Yeah, boss."  The teen daddy kneels.

Hank's ten inch cock throbs before Justin's adoring eyes.  The damp shaft
smells of precum, of sweat.  You can see Justin's eyelids flutter as the
smell tickles his nostrils.

"You like my big daddy cock, Justin?"

"Yeah.  Can I lick it?"

"Call me Daddy."

"Daddy ... can I lick your cock?"

"Get to it, son."

Justine glances up at his boss.  "Call me daddy, Mr. Harrison!"

Hank lays a palm on the back of Justin's head, pulling the teen's face
against his balls.  "Sure, thing, daddy.  Now lick me!"

The teen daddy, well-trained, laps at Hank's big nuts, eager as a baby for
a teat, his eyes hot and bright.  Teen daddy tongue laves fat hairy
manballs. Justin fondles himself through his trunks, eliciting a vast stain
of precum.

"Fuck yeah, Justin," Hank growls.  "You look hot with my sack on your
face!"

Justin laughs, sucking first one nut, then the other, into his mouth.

"Suck my balls.  Yeah.  Hot young daddy.  Suck my balls!"

Saliva gushes over Hank's nuts.  Justin murmurs happily to himself.  It's
easy for these older teens, Hank thinks, looking down at Justin, to worship
stud testicles.  I mean, of course, that there's no way Hank could expect
Ben -- and certainly not Tim -- to get one of the great organs that created
them into their mouth.  Hank closes his eyes, lost in private fantasies.
Yeah, go ahead and try, son.  Go ahead and try and suck it in.  I betcha
Mr. Ruffles could do it!

"Come on, daddy!" Hank guides Justin's lips to his shaft.  "Blow me!"

The soft lips of the newly-christened teenaged daddy sink halfway down
Hank's shaft before Justin gags. Ben, Hank imagines, would choke on Hank's
fat cockhead, though this knowledge doesn't prevent Hank from conjuring up
the image of Ben's mahogany locks intertwined with Hank's curly pubic bush,
the thirteen year old coughing up spit and phlegm around his pistoning
shaft.  What's that Tim?  You want in on this?  Well, Daddy needs someone
to lick butt.  Lick Daddy's butt, Tim.

The ghostly fantasy of ten year old tongue spearing his anus causes Hank to
pull Justin's face down on cock, burying his breeder in the teenager's
throat.

Yeah.  You boys like frolicking around the house in your underwear, teasing
your Daddy?  Well, Ben, you gotta expect shit like this to happen.

"Suck your daddy," Hank snarls.  Taking Justin by the ears he begins
facefucking the teen daddy.

A hot picture: Cathy Sue, spread eagle on the hood of Justin's Ford as her
stud withdraws his teen fuckshaft.  Cuntlips gape, brimming with Justin's
cum, running like teardrops from her hairy gash down her thighs, pooling on
the hood.

"Heh," grunts Hank, churning at Justin's throat.  "Good daddy.  Blow me."

The skullfuck is quick and brutal.  Not more than five minutes later Hank
pours a stream of sperm down Justin's throat.  The teen daddy slurps the
semen up like a milkshake.  When all is swallowed --- and his puffy lips
licked clean -- Justin rises, belching.

"Nice one," says Hank, tugging up his shorts.  "Get to work, kid."

"Sure thing ... daddy!"  Justin grins and scampers off.

Shit!  Hank wishes Justin hadn't called him 'daddy.'  His shaft, which was
about to doze off, reawakens.  Not a full hardon, just a big fucking
engorgement, swaying in his shorts as he walks.

Look at it, boys!  Look at my daddycock!

As the pool comes to life Hank retires to his office in the rear of the
Natatorium, working on orders and payroll.  He doesn't get very far before
his cell rings.

It's Elaine.  "Honey. We're parked next to your truck.  Come get the boys."

"Sure thing.  On the way."

His wife is nothing if not well-organized.  In the parking lot Elaine hands
him a big satchel full of towels.  "There's suntan lotion in there, too,"
she says.  "You make sure they keep covered with it, Hank!  I don't want to
deal with two sunburned kids when I get back."

The boys?  Yeah.  Hank's boys.  He really wishes he'd worn a jockstrap
today.  Or maybe, after painting cum on Justin's tonsils, he'd taken Owen
to the showers and bred that kid's hot, tight ass.  Shit!  Hank is horny as
fuck!

See, his kids are growing and Hank, being a good father, bought them new
swim trunks.  Because Ben and Tim are growing boys, Hank bought these
trunks a bit too large.  So his sons would grow into them.  Sure, they're
not as ... revealing as the swim gear he'd let them wear last year, which
clung to their bodies and rode low on their flat, smooth bellies and --
since they weren't American boy burkhas -- showed a lot of creamy thigh.
But these trunks are loose and hang low.  Very low.  Especially if the
drawstrings aren't tied right. His sons keep tugging them up as they unload
the van of what seems like a pirate's hoard of pool paraphernalia.

His kids are showing more crack than the San Andreas Fault.

The word "rape" flashes in Hank's mind like a neon sign outside a sleazy
hotel.

Slivers of buttcheeks.  Slivers of boy ass peer back at him.  Just like it
had last night, when these two hot kids wrestled and cavorted in Tim's
room.

Uncle Zebulon, please explain yourself.

Why the hell should Keith Peake be able to get away with stuffing his
famous foot long daddycock up his son's tight butt every night, every
goddamned hour, while poor Hank could do nothing but salivate over his own
hot kids ... and dream nasty dreams?

Because of Uncle Zebulon?  Yes.  And because of Elaine.  Because she slept
next to Hank and they are entangled in the bonds of holy property.  Because
of that, he couldn't roll out of bed, giant hardon tenting his boxers, and
storm down the hall, to burst into Ben's room, to grab his son by the
ankle, to roll him over face down, to rip those tight briefs off his body,
and fuck him silly.

We Harrisons, Uncle Zebulon once intoned as his jism burbled in his
nephew's butt, don't fuck our own kids.

"See you, honey!" His wife kissed him.  "Be back by ten!"

As her van departs Hank stifles a howl and pulls himself together. "Christ,
guys, how much stuff did you bring?"

"Everything!" Tim chirrups.

The sexed-up Dad and his two sexy sons drag a collection of toys into the
pool area.  Air mattresses, life rings, snorkels, face masks, fins, and
balls.  This stuff gets deposited in the grassy area next to the fence.
Owen, grinning, from his perch in the lifeguard's chair, shakes his head at
Hank as he boss lugs the trove in.

"First one in!" shrieks Ben, racing across the concrete towards the pool.
He cannonballs in.

Owen's whistle shrieks.  "No running!"

"No fair!" Tim moves -- but Hank jabs two fingers into Tim's waistband,
catching the tyke.

"Lotion!" says Hank.  He fumbles for the satchel but his eyes stare down
into Tim's trunks as his son strains to escape.  Shit.  Fine young butt.
Damn.  Hank's mouth water. His cock leaks.

Smoothing the lotion on Tim's skin Hank caressing his boy, lingering on
Tim's thighs and nipples.  The ten year old relaxes while his father brings
him pleasure.  Hank cops a feel, spreading some lotion over Tim's
buttcheeks beneath the waistband.  Nice.  Silky. The touch makes Hank want
more. He's tempted to roam lower, to explore that buttcrack.  Feeling
Owen's eyes on him, Hank doesn't go as far down as he wants.

"OK, buddy," says Hank, tugging Tim's trunks up and patting his kid's butt.
He whirls his son around and knots the drawstring tighter.  Tim stands
passively but stares over his shoulder at his older brother, who dives into
the pool from the side.  "All done!" says Hank.

Tim races off --

Whistle!  "No running!"

Tim halts and then struts to the side, lifting his feet so that it is clear
to all and sundry ... That. He. Is. Indeed. Walking.  Sticking his tongue
out at Owen he cannonballs in.

"Ben!" bellows Hank.  When his thirteen year old son emerges from the pool,
that young body glistening, those trunks tugged low enough to almost reveal
the pubic bush Hank hasn't seen, and clinging to his shapely slim body --
Hank almost loses it.  The sight is so erotic he almost succumbs.  He
almost rips his shorts off, he almost seizes his boy, he almost flings Ben
down onto the grasses, almost shoves a finger greased with suntanned lotion
up his son's butt --

We Harrisons don't fuck --

Shut up, Uncle Zebulon.

Be back at ten, honey!

Take your time, Elaine.

Hank repeats the treatment with Ben, stroking his son's muscles, savoring
that young strength and the throbbing exuberance.  He feels Ben squirming
under his fingertips.  Hank slips hands up Ben's thighs, rubbing lotion
where there can be no possibility of the sunburn.  Yeah, son.  Daddy's
giving you some of the Bad Touch.  You like?  I bet you do. Hank nearly
blows a thick wad in his shorts as he coats the grease on Ben's pert
buttocks.  On those luscious cheeks his son's displayed for him this very
morning, while Hank stared at him, brandishing unseen a hard daddycock, as
Ben innocently pissed.

"All right," says Hank.  "Go play!"

Shrieking, Ben zooms to the pool.  Owen's whistle again sounds.  Teen and
man exchange bemused looks.

Hank lingers by the poolside, watching his boys.  Throwing them a ball.
Mediating fights.  Watching them paddle on air mattresses, fabric clinging
to their butts.

After a while he can't stand it anymore.  "Gotta do some work, boys," he
calls as he retreats to his office.  "Don't drown!"

As the morning progresses more and more patrons pay their fees and join the
slow sexy chaos that is a public pool. By eleven a decent crowd frolics in
the pool.  Mostly school aged.

By this time Hank's completed his tedious office work and he's keen to perv
once again on the teens.  He circulates round the pool, his cock swinging
in his shorts.  He can tell by the way the girls gawk at him when he passes
that it's showing up real nice.  Not obscene, but not hidden.  Big proud
daddycock.

Ben and Tim are frolicking still on air mattresses, playing some sort of
game where they paddle up alongside each other and pretend to fight with
imaginary swords.  From time to time one of them, usually Tim, capsizes,
and the victor dives in to save the vanquished.  Hank stops the game long
enough to apply a fresh coat of suntan lotion.  With more eyes on him now
Hank's indiscretions beneath their trunks, so loving-dad-like, inflame him
strongly.

His lifeguards remain in position, attentive young studs standing guard.
They look good, bronze bodies in snug trunks. All three have young girls
clustered at the base of their chairs. One girl has partway climbed Logan's
tower and is staring right as his bulge. Hank's sure she's wondering if he
can breed a kid in her too.  Thumbs-up to Logan.  Working at a pool is
supposed to be fun!

Hank perambulates around the pool.  At the deep end a set of teen guys --
fifteen, sixteen, the age that really gets Hank going -- put on a display
of diving prowess.  Sweet round butts and full balls and lots of attitude
and not much sense.  If only they would ditch those unsexy burkhas and wear
Speedos, or tight cut-off jeans, or snug trunks, or briefs.

Hank is chatting with Heather when a familiar vehicle pulls into the
parking lot: the van driven by Keith Peake when he's hauling his brood
around.  A red Mustang parks next to it.  The Mustang is familiar but Hank
can't recall why. From Keith's van pour his kids.  His sons.  His sex
partners. Hank almost throws a full hardon when Aaron capers out, tugging
up his swim trunks over a golden jockstrapped ass.

Hank makes his way into the parking lot.

Where's Jesse?  Hank likes fucking Jesse.  Not long ago Hank threw a hot
fuck into Ben's best friend, screwing the kid in the shower off his office,
Jesse's Speedos looped round his ankle as he took Hank's big cock. Jesse
Peake was pure sex, wrapped up in a thirteen year old boy's body and served
up to any hairy-cocked man who wanted him.

Ah.  There's Jesse.  He's climbing out of the Mustang, wiping his lips and
gulping.  Hank recognizes the driver.  He's seen him at the pool.  Where?
Yes, the arcade, staring at those teens wrestling with their video
games. Clearly he's a Marine from the base up north.  Good-looking young
stud, shirtless, wearing psychedelic trunks that Hank is sure he's seen
Chase Peake wearing.  Sun glints off dog tags.

Hank greets his old friend.  "So, Keith, you brought 'em all?"  He grins at
Aaron as the goofy kid flies past, hooting.

"Seth's staying with his Mom," says Keith, leaning from the window.  "He's
a bit too young yet to hang out with these guys."  He winks knowingly.
"Orgy last night."

Keith's kids, and the Marine, stream towards the gate. Chase and Gideon
work on unloading the van.

"Come on, ten's a good age," says Hank, grinning. "You bred little Kevin
yet?" Though Uncle Zebulon's injunction against sonfucking remains a large
part of his character, like most pedophiles he knows, Hank is fascinated by
incest.  Luckier than most, he's in with some of the world's most assiduous
practitioners of that lusty sport.

"Yep," says Keith.  "Fucked him good too.  Took to it like a natural. He's
gonna be like Jesse, I think."

Hank glances over both shoulders.  No one who could incriminate him is
near.  "So.  That orgy wear you out or you wanna pay a visit to the boy's
club?"

Keith grins.  "I'm always up for that, Tank.  You know I am."

"Come on, then," says Hank, eager as hell to get over there and unzip and
unload.

"Not just yet," Keith says.  "Got some shit going on at the wash.  You know
my boy Curtis Yarnell?"

Hank nods.

"He's been boning one of his teachers.  Finally got her pregnant, I heard."

Hank begins laughing.  Teenaged daddies are today's thing.

"I guess she couldn't keep her lips shut 'cause her husband's at the wash,
looking to beat the shit out of Curtis.  Adam told me he's hiding up in the
crawl space over the wash. So I gotta go and save his ass."

Hank shakes his head, grinning.

 "Listen.  Do me a favor, will you?"

"Sure." Hank's eyes roam Kevin's sleek body as the eleven year old races
for the pool.  Wow.  An eleven year old kid ... no longer a virgin. Keith's
boy wears Speedos.  White Speedos.  Hank remembers them.  He's seen those
same Speedos clinging to Jesse's young body, just last summer. Kevin's
round buttcheeks aren't much larger than Tim's.

"Keep an eye on the boys for me, will you?  They shouldn't be trouble but
if they are either fuck 'em silly or kick 'em out.  Especially Aaron."
Keith, knowing which of his sons Hank hot for, winks.

"No problem, buddy."  Hank points casually towards the tall Marine.  "Who's
that guy?"

"Jesse's boyfriend," says Keith.  "Landon.  He's pedo.  Shit, he fucked his
way through all my son's last night. Got more cum in his balls than a
goddamn stallion. This is a reunion for Jesse and him I think.  Landon
picked my kid up here.  They hit it off, fucking like rabbits, you know?
Treat Landon right.  He's a good guy.  One of us. Maybe show him the
showers?  Take Kevin back there with him and have some fun. "

"I'd like to nut in one of your kids," grins Hank.  "Just not sure which
one."

"When I get back we'll head over to CCBC. I think Landon's a good fit.
He's a stud, so he'll be good with the kids.  Gonna introduce him to some
of the boys, let him pick one out and go downstairs with 'em.  Maybe get
him on staff. What do you think?"

"Sounds good." Hank watches the Marine.  "But we'll have to see, won't we?"

"Listen. I heard Lord found some fresh meat.  Some hot Texas kid, moved up
here with his Mom.  Needs a daddy, you know?  You want to meet him?"

"How old?"

"Fifteen."

With this news Hank throws a full hardon.  Laughing, he grabs his cock as
it thrusts against his shorts.  "You said the magic words, buddy.  Been
thinking about CCBC since last night.  Elaine's out till late.  So, yeah, I
wanna be some kid's dad."

"Maybe we can arrange some all night fun," says Keith.  "Had an orgy last
night but I'm up for another."

"Can't, man.  Got Ben and Tim to take care of."

Keith nods then starts the van.  "All right.  Keep it real quiet like, OK?"

"Always." Hank thumps the van. "See ya!"

The van drives off. Hank waits a moment for his hardon to subside.  It's
difficult.  They're a fine lot, the Peake boys, cavorting on the way to the
pool. He's always admired Keith Peake for having the balls to fuck his own
sons.

Admired? Envied.

Hank's watched Keith screw all his children, except Gideon, the teen top,
who, as Keith tells Hank, has an image to project.  Hank remembers watching
Keith plowing Chase in the same private showers where Hank bagged Jesse. A
real dad fucking his own flesh and blood.  The feel of sliding his own cock
into a butthole still burbling a father's cum.

It's a close as Hank's ever come to incest.

Why oh why, Uncle Zebulon?  Why?

The two elder Peake kids, Chase and Gideon, are carrying their stuff.  Lawn
chairs, air mattresses, towels and satchels.  The younger ones race ahead,
except for Jesse, who walks alongside the tall Marine, one arm looped round
the Marine's thigh as if the man were his favorite toy.

Hank admits them all for free. Back inside the fenced-off pool the Peakes
and Hank part.  The Peakes set up in the grassy area not too far from where
Ben and Tim have encamped.

Once again Hank circulates.  Activity whirls around the pool.  Boys dive in
from all sides.  Teens strut on the diving board, flexing chest muscles at
girls who sit on the side of the pool.  The Peakes -- and Landon -- splash
into the pool.  Hank, keeping an eye on his sons, watches Ben streak across
the water towards his friend Jesse.  Watches Jesse introduce Ben to Landon.

Well then.

"Hey, Mr. Harrison!" Owen calls from his tower.  "How 'bout a break, boss?"

"Sure, man."  Hank climbs up as Owen climbs down.  He watches the sixteen
year old trot over to the deep end of the pool, where Gideon and Chase dive
in and then emerge, dripping. Chase grins at Owen.  After pausing at the
Peake encampment, the two teens vanish into the parking lot for a moment,
no doubt to work out a weed deal.

Gideon Peake -- compact, muscular, his chest powerful, his arms golden and
rippling -- mounts the diving board, clad in olive-green trunks.  He knows
he looks good.  Casually he studies the water ten feet below, tugging at
his groin.  All eyes are upon him and his bulging teen crotch.  Time to
dive? No. Something's still not right with his groin.  He readjusts his
meat.  Girls giggle.  Still not right.  More adjustment.  Finally, whooping
like a maniac, he races off the board and plunges into the water.

A few minutes later Owen returns, red-eyed and grinning.

"Feel better," asks Hank as he climbs down.

"Lots!"

Hank resumes his slow circuit around the pool, drinking in the air.  Young
male flesh abounds, cavorting.

Jesse, the Marine, Kevin, Ben, Tim, and Tristan play in the water, right on
the edge of where the pool deepens.  They race each other, first on the
surface, then underwater.  Kevin climbs on Landon's shoulders, diving in.
Seeing this Tim does the same.

And there it is.  His youngest son's legs, those creamy thighs, resting on
the muscled shoulder of a man Hank knows fucks boys.  Hank begins moving
towards them.

Landon, grinning, surges towards Ben, capturing Jesse's friend.  Tim's feet
kick Landon's chest as if he goaded a stallion. For a moment the Marine is
plastered to Ben's back, his hands under water and out of sight.

Shit.  The man's cock can't be two inches from Ben's virgin butthole.
Hank's pace increases as the Marine flings Ben far into the deep end of the
pool, where a pair of girls, bobbing on floats, shoot the immature thirteen
year old dire looks.  Tim dives from Landon's shoulders, surfacing next to
Ben.  The brothers begin swimming back towards the Marine.

Kevin though is up next.  Landon grabs the kid and cradles him.  There is a
brief moment that Hank sees clearly, when Kevin tweaks both of Landon's
nipples.  Tweaks?  Hell, the kid pinches them.  Arms and legs flailing,
eleven year old Kevin goes flying.

When Hank kneels on the side of the pool Tim has returned to the Marine.
He is cradled in just the same fashion as Kevin.  Clearly Hank's son
learned something today, for he is staring at Landon's chest and very
gently stroking the Marine's erect nipples.  The Marine has a sly look on
his face.  One hand is cupped under Tim's butt, the thumb stroking against
Tim's wet trunks.  The other?  Gently tugging on the ten year old kid's
tit.  Suddenly Aaron flings his arms round Landon's neck, trying to
overturn him.  Failing, he starts gnawing on Landon's ear. Landon grins,
letting the teen do what he wants.

"Ben! Tim!" Hank barks.

Tim disengages from Landon and thrashes across the water, climbing out.
Ben emerges a little further away.  Hank sends Tim for the lotion.  As he
once again lovingly coats his son's bodies he says to Landon, "So, uh,
Keith tells me you're Landon."

The Marine nods, a suspicious look on his face.

"Keith tells me you had a lot of fun at his place last night.  With Jesse
and the boys.  That's one of the best ways to spend a night in this
county."  Hank slips his hand beneath Ben's waistband.  His son strains to
get back into the pool.  "Spent plenty of time there myself."

Landon realizes this man is in on his secret.  And that it's cool. He grins
slyly.  "Yeah," he drawls.  "Mr. Peake's got a great family.  How's yers?"

"Oh, not like Keith's.  Not like Keith's."  Hank tightens Ben's drawstring,
pats his butt. "Go play, Ben."

"I'm next, Dad!" Tim presents himself.  Hank pours out a good palm full.
He starts with Tim's nipples, goes down his torso, then reaches around and
digs his hands under his son's trunks, cupping butt.

Landon's eyes are fixed on what Hank holds. "Ya got some handsome boys,
Mr. ...?"

"Harrison.  Call me Tank.  My friends call me Tank.  We're going to be
friends, Landon.  Trust me."

Aaron shoots out of the pool like a rocket.  His suit clings to his round
butt.  You can see the lines of his jockstrap.  Capering around Hank and
Tim, wriggling his butt -- where the dimpled fabric caresses his twin
globes and sinks deep into his cleft -- "Do me! Do me! Come on,
Mr. Harrison, do me too!"

"I know what you need, Aaron," says Hank.  "And I'm gonna give it to you,
boy." He winks at Landon.  "Call Kevin over here.  We'll have some fun."

Landon, grinning, beckons at Kevin.  The eleven year old thrashes through
the water.

"Can I go, Dad?" Tim begs.

"No, Tim.  You stay here.  Play in the pool with your brother."

"I like playing with Landon!"

Aaron's eyes are bright and there's a look in his eyes that suggest he'd
drop his trunks right then and there and take Hank's meat. Or Landon's.  Or
Owen's.  Or Logan's, or --

Following Kevin, the Marine emerges from the pool.  Sunlight glistens on
the water streaming down his cut and chiseled body.  He is a fine specimen
of a man.  Yes.  Keith is right to consider him for CCBC. This Landon is
the type of young stud anyone with any sense would want to find fucking
their boys.

Jesse swims over.  Landon kneels, and man and boy have a private
conversation.  Jesse whispers something.  Landon's eyes go wide.  He
glances at Kevin and readjusts himself in his psychedelic trunks.

"Hey Mr. Harrison!" Jesse calls.  "Come here!"

Hank walks over and kneels.

Jesse leaps up, grabs Hank's hand, and hauls the man into the pool.

Hank surfaces, spluttering.  Laughter all round.  He can hear Tim's ringing
out, high and clear.  He splashes at Jesse.  "You're trouble, kid," says
Hank, laughing along with the rest of them.

"Lots of trouble," says Jesse.  To Landon: "Go play!  I'm gonna go to the
bathroom!"

Hank pulls himself out of the pool.

"Hey Dad!  Watch!"

Hank glances to the left.  Ben stands poised to dive.  His trunks plaster
themselves to his lithe body.  It is as if he is naked.  That boy butt
bulges under the crinkled fabric. Hank can see cock and maturing balls.

Hank's hardon returns.  Dangerous in these wet shorts. He leans forward a
bit to hide it, tugging his shirt tail over it.

Ben dives.  For a brief instant Hank swears he can see his son's anus, so
tightly does the fabric cling to that body.

Kevin has been whispering in Landon's ear.  The boy's eyes fixate on the
man's crotch.  When Landon doesn't say anything Kevin kicks his Marine's
shin.

"Um," says Landon.  "Ya think we could, uh, visit those showers, uh, Tank?"

"Yeah, sure," grins Hank.  "Just give me a minute till, uh, things calm
down."

Jesse grabs Tristan.  Both boys race off.

Landon, watching them go, says idly, "They got any kennels in this town,
uh, Tank?"

"Yeah.  Why?"

"Nothin'."  The Marine pulls Kevin against his crotch. Hank can see him
pump his bulge slowly against the eleven year old's shoulder blades.

"Hurry up!" yells Aaron.  "Let's go!  Let's go!  Let's go!"

It took more than a minute, because Tim needed to emulate his brother,
diving in with his wet trunks clinging just as tightly to his body.  And
then their friends, one by one, teasing the pedophiles lurking around the
pool with the lust-inducing sight of smooth hairless flesh on display.

"Come on," says Hank at last. "Let's go have some fun."

He leads the kid, the teen, and the Marine into the big Natatorium.  When
the door shuts behind them it cuts off the tumult from the public pool. It
is quiet and the air smells like tons and tons of boy jism: the wonderful
aroma of chlorine and spunky young nuts

The quartet walks alongside the quiet waters of the indoor pool.  Aaron and
Kevin lead.  The fifteen year old keeps shoving his younger brother towards
the pool until Kevin bellows "Stop it!"

The bleachers are empty.  From the trusses overhead hang championship
pennants, some belonging to Calhoun Middle School, others to George
Washington High.

Looking over his shoulder, Kevin tugs his Speedos halfway off his ass.
This done he strikes swiftly, shoving Aaron into the pool, then struts,
leading the way.  Aaron emerges, whipping his head to clear the water, and
chases after Kevin, hooting.

"Calm down, Aaron," says Hank easily.  "Come here.  Let me feel that hot
butt of yours."

This is what Aaron, as always, is after.  He snuggles against Hank,
settling down as the big man's hands caress his round ass.

Hank points up at a diving platform.  "That's where I first saw him,
Landon."

"Who?" drawls the Marine, fondling a hardon growing rapidly in his trunks
as his eyes feast on Kevin's hot kidbutt.

Hank ruffles Aaron's hair.  "This fine piece of boy.  He looks good in a
Speedo, doesn't he?  Can't dive worth a crap, though."

"Yeah," says Aaron, "but I know how to fuck!"

"So, uh, Tank," says Landon, pulling Kevin to him and stuffing his hand
into the kid's Speedos.  Kevin jumps.  Marine must have a finger up his
hole.  "How long ya known Mr. Peake?"

"Four years, more or less."

"You, uh, like fuckin' his boys?"

"I like fucking all boys," says Hank.  "You?"

"Yeah.  Me too."

"Heard you and Jesse are a thing.  That true?"

"Yeah," says Landon, "but it depends what ya mean by that.  See, I just
started fuckin' kids.  So it ain't like we're married.  Ya know?  I fuck
any boy I want."

"That's smart," says Hank. "'Cause I know Jesse.  He's not the kind of boy
who fucks just one man!"

"NO SHIT!" yells Aaron.  The teen's voice echoes in the empty Natatorium.
The echoes please him immensely.  That or the alleged secret he's just
screamed to the world about his kid brother.

Hank says, "I imagine you and Jesse spend most of your time naked
together."

Landon blushes.  "Well, first time I saw him was out in that arcade ya got.
Sweet little Jesse was playing' a video game.  I ain't much into them, I
don't remember --"

"GVZ!" hollers Kevin.  "Jesse told me all about it, the night before Dad
fucked me!"

Aaron nods.  "He wouldn't shut up about it." In falsetto: "He's got a two
foot long cock and he fucks and he fucks and look at all the cum I got!"
Aaron sniggers.  "He bent over and opened up his butthole and all this jism
ran out.  I thought I was going to drown!"

"What's GVZ?" says Landon, confused.

"Ganymede versus Zeus!" says Hank. "The game."

"Yeah, well, he was standin' there, and I swear his Speedos were half off
his ass--"

"Like THIS!"  Kevin sticks his tight butt out and wags. Also driving
Landon's finger in deeper.

"Just like Kevin's got 'em now.  I hadn't been here before, Mr. Tank, and
when I went into that arcade I couldn't look at anything else.  I think I
just stared at Jesse's butt for an hour.  Nothin' more in the world I
wanted to do than fuck that butt.  And I ain't -- wasn't -- queer! I
remember lookin' up and he was starin' right at my crotch."  Landon's
crotch is worth staring at.  And caressing, which Kevin is doing not quite
as expertly as Jesse. No matter. A boy's hand on a man's cock is always
awesome. The Marine's big dong thrusts in his trunks.  "Jesse was my first
boy, Mr. Tank."

"Jesse's a teenager," corrects Kevin.  "I'm a boy.  And you fucked me right
after!"

"It wasn't right after --" begins Landon.

"Ever do it with a guy before Jesse?"

"No, Mr. Tank.  I'm not gay.  I'm a pedo."  He thrusts his chest out.

"That's not what Gideon says," says Aaron, smirking.

"Listen to me, Landon," says Hank.  "I like boys.  Keith likes boys.
There's a lot of men in this county who get off on boys. You keep your trap
shut about where you shove that dick of yours and you can get a lot of
boyflesh here.  Jesse might be your first, but you definitely don't want
him to be your last!"

"No, Mr. Tank," drawls Landon, cupping his free hand over his obscene
bulge.  "I don't think I ever want to give up boys."  He clears his throat.
"You, uh, fucked your kid Tim yet?"

"No," says hank hoarsely.

"Mr. Peake fucks all his kids."

"Not all of 'em.  Just the one he think are old enough."

Kevin snickers.  He says quietly, "Seth wants Dad to fuck him.  Seth wants
it real bad!"

"I'm thinkin'," says Landon, "about startin' me a family."

"Families are wonderful," says Hank neutrally, "especially if you've got
one like Keith Peake's."

"Yeah," murmurs Landon. "I don't wanna get married.  I just wanna bone a
chick, get her pregnant and, if it's a boy, take him with me."

"And! FUCK! Him! SILLY!" yells Aaron.

"You could have a million kids that way!" says Kevin, awed.

"A million kids," says Landon dreamily.  "A man can dream!"

Hank leads them into the back, past the boy's locker room, now empty.  He
unlocks his office door and takes man and boy and teen into his office.
"Showers are back there," he says, pointing to the tiled alcove.  He
unlocks a drawer and begins pulling items out.  "Lube.  Poppers."

Aaron frowns.  "Rush?"  Clearly he's disappointed.  He shimmies out of his
trunks.  His jockstrap -- perhaps the cleanest it's been in weeks -- joins
it.  His teencock rises proud and stiff.  He makes his way into Hank's
private shower.

"All I got, Aaron."  Hank glances at Landon.  "You don't use condoms, do
you?"

The Marine stands up straight and proud.  "Hell no!" he says indignantly.
"I'm a breeder!"

High five. "Good man."  He strips off his damp shirt.  "Come on.  Hey
Aaron!  Get the water running!"

Kevin strips off his Speedo.  His small wiener is limp but definitely
plump.  Sucking on a finger he holds Landon's hand, supporting the Marine
as he shucks those trunks.

"Wow," says Hank.  "Big cock."

"Nine inches!" says Kevin, reaching out with a free hand to pluck a strand
of precum from the head and bring it to his lips.

"Ya got me beat," says Landon, eyeing Hank's ten incher.

"Dad's got you both beat," hollers Aaron over the sound of hissing water.
"And black guys got all you white boys beat!  BLACK COCK FOREVER!"  He
beats his chest, grabs a handle, and sticks his butt out.  "Mr. Harrison,
get in here and fuck me!"

Laughing, Hank says, "Anyone ever tell you you're an obnoxious kid?"

"Well, yeah."  Aaron blinks.  "You, Dad, Landon, my teachers, my coaches,
that bus driver, the principal, the assistant principal, the manager at the
McDonald's -- but everyone one of you all shuts up when it's time to fuck
my ass!" He wiggles his butt.  He wags his tongue.  He pants.  "Come on!
Let's do it!"

"Come on, Marine," Hank says to Landon.  "Let's fuck these boys."

The shower is long and narrow.  There are four heads, all of which Aaron
has activated. The lube and Rush are deposited on a plastic table set
between pairs of heads.  The men and Kevin rinse off while Aaron, bent at
the waist, watches them impatiently.

"I don't feel any COCK in my ASS!" Aaron sing-songs.

"Throw me the lube," Hank says.  His cock, teased all day, is iron hard.

Kevin, hungrily eyeing Landon's nine inches, tosses a half-empty bottle of
Astroglide Hank's way.  He kneels before Landon. Licks first his lips then
Landon's cockhead, his tongue fluttering.  The marine sighs and shuts his
eyes, lost in the pleasure of being blown by an eleven year old boy.

Aaron knows Hank's routine.  He watches Hank slick up the ten inch Harrison
breeder with greedy eyes, bent over at the waist, legs spread, and his
smooth round globes presented.

"I wanna get FUCKED!" Aaron chants.  "I wanna get FUCKED!"

The ten inch Harrison cock is a thick organ, heavily veined, rising from a
bush darker even than Hank's hair.  Hank remembers how Uncle Zebulon used
to chart its growth, back in the day.  It was a science fair project that
could never be shared.  Each month, after Hank's balls drops and puberty
began, Zebulon measured Hank's dick, length and girth, with the same tape
measure he used around the farm and then scribbled down the measurements in
a notebook.  Hank's meat, fertilized by the copious loads of jism uncle
Zebulon planted in his butt, grew swiftly in his twelfth year.  From a
three inch finger, always stiff as Zebulon sawed away at Hank's butt, it
became, by Hank's fourteenth year, the ten inch instrument that was the
envy of all the boys in the PE shower and stiff because, hell, all fourteen
year old boys are stiff all the fucking time.

"Suck me off, kiddo," says Landon.

"My name is KEVIN!" the boy says resentfully.  But what boy can resist the
power of a hard, throbbing nine inch Mississippi farm boy cock, especially
when it's right in his face.  Kevin sucks the cockhead in. Slowly,
tantalizingly, his lips slide down the meat, seeking the furry base.

"I STILL don't have any COCK in my BUTT!" says Aaron, staring at Hank's
meat.

Sighing and shaking his head, Hank steps into position.  With Aaron -- a
true Peake slut -- you don't need to do much preparation.  Hell, the teen's
been fucked so many times that if you put a blower near his butthole you
could use him as a pipe organ. Hank presses his big cockhead into the
teen's socket and plunges in to the root.

"Ow!" Aaron's eyes fly open in shock.

"Since you're a fan of black cock, I figure you can take it rough, Aaron,"
growl's Hank.  He savors the feel of Aaron's nuts churning against his own
fat, heavy low hanging balls.

"Barely felt it," murmurs Aaron, letting out a great, shuddering sigh.  "I
thought you had a big cock, Mr. Harrison.  Hell, my Dad's got a bigger cock
than yours!"  The teen begins bucking on Hank's shaft. His own rod bobs,
slapping his flat, tan belly.

"You thought it was pretty big two years ago," grunts Hank, stroking away.
He likes riding Aaron.  Always has.  Kid's a great piece of teen tail,
always fun to throw a casual pedo-fuck into.  Always fun to tease. Hank
mimics a high-pitched young boy's voice: "Oh take it out, Mr. Harrison, it
hurts so much, Mr. Harrison!  I think it's gonna come out my mouth,
Mr. Harrison!  Put it in and do it again, Mr. Harrison!"

"Fuckin' Aaron," grins Landon, "is like fuckin' the Batcave."

"Aw, come on guys," whines the teen.  "I like big cock and they stretch me
out!"

"Jesse's tight," says Hank.  Staring down between Aaron's tanned globes he
watches his fat shaft emerge and disappear from Aaron's ring.  Huge ropes
of semen coat it.  "Shit, Aaron, who's been fucking you?  What's this? Am I
getting sloppy seconds off a basketball team?"

Aaron hooks a finger on his lips and stares up at the shower head, feigning
thought.  "Well, Dad, Landon, Chase, Gideon, the Carolina Panthers, the
Carolina Tarheels, the NC State Wolfpack ..."

Landon's shaft emerges with a rolling belch from Kevin's throat.
"Wolfsbane!" the fifth grader calls.

Hank stares down at his shaft.  "I'm getting sloppy seconds off the dog?"

Aaron laughs.  "No.  Unless you fucked Tristan.  Nope.  Dad, Landon, Chase,
Gideon, Tristan, Jesse ... hey, Kevin, did you cum in my butt this
morning?"

"Sure felt like I did!  But -- "Kevin's words are choked off as Landon
stuffs his cock down his throat. The Marine fucks the kid's throat.

"And Jesse ain't tight no more!"  Aaron snickers, shoots a look at Landon.
"Tell him what you and Dad did to him last night!"

Hank raises an eyebrow as he saws away.  All kidding aside, Aaron's eyes is
sweet and tight, clasping the big cock hungrily.

Landon laughs.  "Yell, well, it was pretty wild.  You ever had your cock up
a boy's butt alongside another man's cock, Tank?"

Hank, really enjoying the sloppy fuck he's having with Aaron, shoots him a
thumbs-up.

"And don't talk 'bout yer brother that way," says Landon.  "I fucked him
last night and this morning and he's just as tight as ever!"

Hank feels other men's slime sliding down his shaft and coating his
balls. The smell is pungent.  The feeling is nasty and really gets the jism
boiling in his nuts.

"Who's your Daddy?" growls Landon, guiding Kevin's lips from cockhead to
pubic hair.

Kevin pops the cockhead out of his mouth long enough to say, "Well, Daddy
is my Daddy, but I like your cock, Mr. Landon!"  Back down the shaft the
eleven year old's lips slide.

"Fuck, man," moans Landon.  "He turns me on more'n Jesse!" Landon looks at
Hank.  "I like 'em young!  Goddamn I like 'em young!"

Kevin slides a hand up Landon's thigh.  Briefly he toys with the Marine's
nuts, full and heavy as always of good, potent stud juice, the kind every
growing boy needs.  When the Marine opens his legs a bit to give Kevin
better access Kevin jabs a finger up Landon's butt.  The Marine doesn't
even jump.  He simply grins, takes Kevin by his ears, and slowly pumps
away, while the kid pumps his finger in his ass.

"Throw me some poppers," Aaron calls. He wears the glazed look of a teen
who is seriously enjoying the meat he's got pumping in his chute. Landon
tosses the brown bottle.  The teen snorts deep.  His ring -- make no
mistake, it's tight; Aaron is a tight-assed hot-assed teen; that's what he
gets all the cock he needs -- quivers on Hank's plunging shaft.  The sound
of smacking flesh reverberates in the shower.

"Fuck your boy," says Hank.  "Daddy."

Grinning, Landon hauls Kevin up.  "That's enough.  Son.  Uh, Daddy's gonna
fuck you now."

Kevin begins hopping from one foot to another.  "Oh boy!  Oh boy!"

"Turn around, Kevin," Landon growls. "Now, son." The boy whirls around,
still hopping excitedly.  Landon grabs him by the hips.  "Settle down,
Kevin.  Now Daddy's gonna start putting his dick up your butt.  It might
hurt a little at first.  But it'll feel so good inside once I get it up
there!"

Hank wonders ... is that how you say to a son?  Is that how you convince a
kid like Ben -- or Tim -- to take a big adult cock up there?  Are those
words something Landon wants to say to his kids? Are they something he
heard at the Peake house?  Uncle Zebulon had used the "Have you ever seen a
grown man naked?" line on Hank, as uncle and nephew swam in that
tree-shaded pond in the past, followed by, "It gets bigger if you touch
it," which led to, "Let's play a game" which, come to think of it, led to,
"It might hurt a little going inside, 'cause it's so big, Hank, but once
it's there it'll be the best thing you've ever felt."  Hmm.

Kevin winces when the Marine sheathes his cock but the boy doesn't whimper.
If you're a child of Keith Peake's you don't complain about cock in your
butt.  You might have to ride out the burning sensation, you might have to
overcome your fear of bursting from within, but it's all rewarded in the
end, when that giant organ begins to move.

The two men fuck, grunting.  The two boys lean against the wall, cooing
softly.  The poppers are passed back and forth.  Kevin is quite greedy,
inhaling like crazy.  It's almost too much.  The kid would have stumbled
and fallen, had not Landon's cock been up his butt and the man gripping him
by the waist.

"Ain't goin' nowhere, son," Landon grunts.  Hips smack against
boybutt. "Daddy's fuckin' ya!"

Hank yields to the zeitgeist as he comes into the home stretch.  Yanking
Aaron by the hair, he hauls the teen back and growls into his ear, "Who's
your Daddy?"

"My Daddy," Aaron pants, frigging his cock, his nipples two spiked
monuments to teenaged depravity, "is any guy who got his cock up my ass!"

"Well tighten that ass, son," Hank sneers, popping Aaron's cheeks, first
the left, then the right. "Daddy likes it tight!"

Bellowing like bulls, the two men cum into their boys.  Aaron fountains
teensauce all over the tile.  The goofy kid, brought up in the Peake
manner, lives for the feeling of male juice in his bowels.  His shaft
spurts against the shower wall just seconds after Hank's cock erupts inside
him. Kevin's is dry but intense.  He squeals like a pig as orgasm shudders
through him. The boy's a quick learning, knowing just when to huff Rush so
that chemical high will coincide with the orgasm exploding out of his
bowels.

"Thanks, Mr. Harrison!" says Aaron afterwards, toweling off.  "That really
hit the spot."  Suddenly he whirls around, bends almost double, and reveals
his butthole, deep between his asscheeks, now leaking Hank's cum.... along
with everyone else's.  It bubbles.  Little teardrops of semen hang from his
glowing ring.

Landon, who has Chase's psychedelic trunks halfway up his legs, drops them
again.  "You mind if I tap that, Tank?" Hungrily he eyes Aaron's butt.

Hank grins.  "Save it for later.  Me and Keith got something in store for
you. I know you're gonna like."

Back at the pool the two just-fucked boys leap into the water, whooping
like crazy.  Landon and Hank sit down at the edge, kicking their feet in
the water.  Hank checks the parking lot.  Keith Peake still hasn't
returned.  Damn.  He's in the mood for more boy ass.

"Hey, Gideon!" Landon calls.  "Where's Jesse?"

"And Ben?" Hank murmurs.  "Tim!  Where's your brother?"

Gideon -- who has been having a very intense conversation with a girl
sunning herself on an air mattress -- calls, "Bathroom, bitch!"  He grins
savagely.

Landon good-naturedly shoots Gideon the Finger.

A streak dives past Hank, splashing him, before Tim responds.

Jesse plops down next to him and throws an arm round his waist.  Man and
boy exchange knowing looks.  Then Jesse looks at Hank. "Did you have fun
too, Mr. Harrison?"

Hank opens his mouth to answer --

"Oh my God!"

A pair of trunks floats in the pool.  Hank recognizes them.  They're Ben's.

Ben surfaces, flips the water from his face, clearly mortified.  He
thrashes towards the floating trunks, revealing his smooth, taut, naked
ass.

Laughter erupts.

"He, uh, had some trouble with his drawstring, I guess," says Jesse,
grinning at the sight.

Even though he's just had a good cum up Aaron's butt, Hank's cock begins to
stir in his shorts.  Once again he glances at the parking lot.  Hurry up,
Keith Peake!  The wife's out of town and I want to fuck boy ass till my
balls shoot dust!

If you liked the story,
check out more fiction from the same author:
"The Coming of the Leather Messiah"
3 Volumes
- Leather Messiah -
- Disciples of the Leather Messiah -
- Temple of the Leather Messiah -

Now on Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=the%20coming%20of%20the%20leather%20mesessiah