Date: Fri, 13 Aug 2010 11:15:43 -0700 (PDT) From: kevin Donovan Subject: chapter 19, special services division, gay male incest The following is a work of gay erotic fiction involving graphically described sex among teenage males, sex with older males, and incest. If these topics offend you, or if it is illegal for you to read or possess such materials where you are, read no further. All characters are above the age for consensual sex where you live.This story is pure fantasy. The author does not condone either sex with minors, sex with immediate family, or unprotected sex. Do not reproduce this without permission. Special Services Division By Kevin Donovan Chapter Nineteen: Fun and Games -1- Breaking and Entering, Gently-Sunday II Colin and I met up with Stewart and Chad in the shower room, and all of us got ourselves cleaned up, inside and out. I suddenly had a brilliant idea. "Stewart, did you happen to bring your vibrating dildo out here with you?" I asked. His face lit up. "Why, yes, I did! You never know when you're going to need one of those, you know! I'll get it out for you back at the room." That could be a big help in loosening up Chad's reluctant rectum. Back at the room, we planned our attack. I got Chad to lie face down in the middle of the mattress, and assigned Colin and Stewart space on either side. Colin stepped in, though, and built up a sort of ramp out of three pillows, which elevated Chad's hips for me. He pulled our project's male equipment out so that it hung down outside the pillows for milking during the process. I got lube and vibrator handy and crawled up between Chad's long, lean, muscular legs. His butt bubbled in twin orbs of manly derriere. His hard cock hung down, propping against the mattress. "This part will take a full hour. I promise you'll enjoy it, even if you don't like what follows. But I plan for you to like that, too." I planted my lips on his pucker and went to work, just as I had done with Colin earlier in the morning. Colin and Stewart lay quietly and admired my technique. After ten minutes, I invited Colin to take a turn, which he eagerly accepted. I moved over to watch him lick and slurp at Chad's bunghole and listen to Chad gurgle with pleasure. In ten or so more minutes, Stewart got the nod. I encouraged him to massage Chad's perineum and scrotum, too, and use the strength of his tongue to enter Chad's anus. Our target made clear his whole-hearted approval of these activities. I returned to take up the deep tonguing, but I added a finger gradually, too, with plenty of lube. At the one-hour mark, I revved up the vibrator and began to tickle his rectal ring with it. Chad whimpered pitifully. By now, his slick anus was quivering, and occasionally it spontaneously opened up to me. I could see sexy pink tubing inside. As it opened, I slid the tip of the prod in quickly, then back out. "Oooh," said Chad. I really thought I had my man. I slipped it back in, out, in, and out, further each time. Soon, I had the thing imbedded deep enough to touch his G-spot. My victim screamed, shook all over, and fired an ejaculation into the sheet below his pillows. At that point, I went back to tonguing for a few minutes. Luckily, I like the strawberry- flavored lube. Eddie appeared at the doorway. "Well, it doesn't LOOK like you're killing anybody. It sounded like it there for a minute, though." Chad moaned deeply. Eddie laughed and tickled the sole of his foot. "Hang in there, Kiddo, you're in very good hands. Can I have him, once you guys are done?" He returned to his own business, chuckling. I worked a finger back in, gently. Then, I slipped in a second. Chad's anus expanded easily, and he just sighed. Stewart leaned over to dribble more lube in, and I worked the fingers a bit. When I tried the third finger, Chad bucked his hips up a little. I didn't know if that was a bad sign or good, but then he said, "Ohhhhhh, shit," more rapturously than complaining, I thought. "Who among us has the smallest dick?" I asked. "Are you crazy? You all have huge dicks," protested our client. "You do it," Colin insisted. I have kind of a big knob head on my cock. I feared that might do Chad in before I ever got fully inserted, but I pressed slowly and gently, and his muscle just opened up and let me in. I stopped to let him adjust. "You in?" he asked. "Feels nice, just-well, BIG." "Yeah, just a bit more." Actually, about six inches more, but he didn't have to know that yet. I pushed, pulled, pushed some more, and gradually worked it in, inch by inch. "Holy shit. How long is that thing? I can't believe I'm taking that." "Me, neither," added Stewart. "Now that I look at it, I can't believe I take it, either." My pubic pad pressed against Chad's buttocks. I was in. I pressed and held the pose. "You OK?" "Ohhhhh, yeaaaaahhhhh," he droned. I slid out slowly, and he gasped. "Put it back, please!" I slid back in, to his groaning. "Oh, baby, fuck me, man. Fuck this ass." With a moderate level of force, I began fucking. "mmm..mmmm...mmm," said Chad. I fucked steadily for eight or nine minutes, then nodded at Colin. He was hard, stroking, and ready to rip. I pulled out, and he smoothly slid in, hardly missing a beat. He also fucked steadily for nearly ten minutes. Then, he nutted in Chad's colon, gasping with the release. Stewart was also ready to take up the task as Colin withdrew wetly. Stew slid right in and continued to hunch, building up to a little faster pace as Chad hummed appreciatively. After several minutes, Stew also came with a series of jerks and grunts. My turn again-I finished him off with a harder, faster round of fucking, ending with me hosing his guts with my own man- mix. Chad lay still, seemingly barely conscious. Just as I was withdrawing, my brother Jeff happened by and stuck his head in. "Do I smell sex in here?" "No more than usual," answered Colin. "But your little brother has just brought about a complete and total conversion in our buddy Chad, here." "Chad, your asshole is gaping, man! I could park my Jeep in there!" Chad mouthed unintelligible sounds. "Hey, man, do you mind if I have a go at it while you're so oblivious and all? 'Cause this could be my only chance ever to fuck your ass." Chad nodded slightly, and said something that might have been, "Hell, why not?" Jeff did not ask for further clarification. So Jeff, who was already hard just from whiffing the aroma of sex from outside the room, moved in and slid his big rig into the proffered garage. He sighed with pleasure as it slid into the warm tube. Damn, I loved to watch my big brother's ass muscles clench. He didn't trim the light fur back there at all, but it looked great on him. Then, he began rutting in earnest. He popped off six or seven minutes later with great satisfaction. "Thank you," or something like that, mumbled Chad as he pulled out. Maybe it was, "Fuck you," hard to be sure. We all laughed at that. We decided to let our friend rest at that point. He was all wrung out. He slept for about an hour and a half, not moving a muscle, just draped over the pillows as he had been for the training session. Word began to spread outside that Chad had been fucked out of his gourd in our room, and men began to come in to have a look. Some even made pictures with their phones to email him later. Dripping ass in the air, head down on the mattress, he had the most incredible contented, utterly blissful look on his face, as if he was having a prolonged religious experience-it cracked everyone up. Mike came rushing in, having met Jeff on the lawn, to see if he was too late to have a go at Chad's ass. He left disappointed, but he returned, a short time later, in a lather of excitement and apprehension. He had checked in with Dad out at the poker table, where his game for my ass was already well underway. It looked like Buster might be out soon, as his chips were running very low. However, another cousin of Dad's in his upper thirties, Winton, had come up to watch the guys play a bit. His oldest boy, Alan, was with him, a very handsome all-state quarterback considered a favorite for scholarship at several leading football universities after the coming season. I found out later that Alan and his cousin Peyton had gotten excused from this week of practice, because they were supposedly attending a "backs" training program. They already knew all the plays, and they'd fit right back in with the ordinary players the following week. Alan was quite a study of masculine poise and perfection of physique, and the family was very proud of his celebrity jock status, but not nearly so much as his dad was. (In fact, the sports activity for the afternoon was naked touch football (two hands on the butt cheeks-- but Alan was not particularly welcome to play, because his team always won.) Winton watched for a while, and then issued a challenge of his own. I got the details later from a very amused Eddie. "You guys aren't very daring, putting up your gay sons as poker chips," Winton chided. "They don't care which of you wins, and they pay the price in any case. If you were real sports, you'd put up a straight son as stakes." After a little hemming and hawing about the legitimacy of their present game, Larry rose to the bait. "Yeah, sure, Winton. Tomorrow afternoon, after I take care of these boys tonight, I'll put up my son Zack against Alan, here." At that, Alan stood up very straight and looked desperately over at his old man. "Sure, Larry, why not. Your Zack is quite the stud dog. I wouldn't mind seeing him play the bitch one time." (I had totally forgotten, if I ever knew it, that Zack and Casey were brothers. They were certainly equal in hotness. Both were quite masculine in demeanor, come to think of it. I'd never have dreamed that Zack would take it up the ass-and he was not here to say he would-but then, I wouldn't have thought that of Casey either, if he hadn't come out as SSD.) Winton looked back coolly at Alan. "Tell you what, men. I'll put in Alan. But the son of the winner has the choice to opt out, or just help his dad top the losers. That gives the boys some incentive to root for their old man. Whaddaya say? Scott, you in? You want to put in Mike, or Jeff?" Alan was looking downright frightened now, and suddenly Mike was, too. As much as he liked to fuck my butt, he had been very strict on the one-way traffic policy regarding his own ass. He looked rigidly at Dad. "Not against their will, Winton," Dad drawled, glancing at the petrified Alan. "What's your pleasure, Mike? You want to help me put these braggers in their place? After all, if I win, you get to help me defile their tight-ass sons." "Yeah, but if you lose, I'm one of the tight-ass sons," protested Mike. "Sounds like a 'no,' Scott. Mike has obviously seen you play poker before." (Actually, Dad was known at The Camp as one of the sharpest players at all the card games.) But Mike was not finished. "However, Dad, you know I've been kind of going on about me getting my own wheels this year to go back to school. With my job, I can pay the insurance and gas. It could be, like, an early graduation present, which I'll need anyway by next year, to go to the University." I think Dad was well aware that the University did not allow freshmen to keep cars on campus, but he was doing OK in this negotiation, since he had secretly already decided to let Mike get the vehicle this fall. He held out his hand. "Deal," he pronounced. "Win or lose," countered Mike. Dad smiled and nodded. Mike shook his hand. Alan looked at Winton with increasing alarm. "Hey, how 'bout me?" "You have a car, Son." "Yeah, but it's a piece of crap. Excuse me, but it is. My friends won't ride in it." His dad considered. His big mouth had written a check it would now have to cash. "OK a new one, then. But only a Civic." Alan nodded, but still looked chagrined. If his dad lost this game tomorrow, it would cost him serious stud points among the straight athlete group in the family, to whom he was a star. Getting a car out of it would help to justify his sacrifice some, at least. Buster was next to speak. "I guess you all know, I have no straight sons of age yet. Young Jackson is just fourteen. So I'm not in this one." That left Jake, or they'd have to round up another father who might be willing to bribe a straight son with a car. Jake did have a candidate on the premises, my friend Rick, of whom I already had my suspicions, but he was yet undeclared and, anally, a virgin. "I'll put up Rick," said Jake nonchalantly. "Don't you need to ask him?" Dad countered. "Nah. He'll do what I tell him to." And Rick did, without fuss. When informed who all was in, especially that it included the gorgeous hunks Alan and Zack, not to mention my brother Mike, who was very popular among the guys, he just nodded and said, "Well, OK, then. Sure hope you win, Dad." My suspicions were increased by that demonstration of filial obedience. But that deal-making happened to fit right in with the spreading effect of our little enterprise with Chad. Independently of that deal, we began to have guys who had never been fucked before asking to book time for our special anal acclimation treatments. Just getting the hour-long rim-job and prostate massage made it worth the fucking for them! It came to be called "Chadding." Seems like all the young men wanted to be "Chadded." It was 'way more than I could handle. I booked one each afternoon for the remainder of our week at The Camp, and then booked sessions for Colin and Stewart, too. So it developed that we would be breaking in three straight boys per day, right there in the bed together, from one to three each afternoon. We could've done more in the evenings, but we had our own stud servicing to provide then, and we certainly didn't want to give up the bottom role completely! Some would just have to wait until hunting season. For mercy sake, though, I had to put Mike in at the head of the line, for tomorrow afternoon, in case Dad lost the big game. If he had to put out, he wanted to be ready to do it with as little discomfort as possible, and he knew we were the ones who could arrange that. Of course, it was a gamble, because, if Dad won, he'd have been fucked for nothing. But he did acknowledge that he'd be drawing plenty of payback on my ass during the coming school year. My "Chadding" clients were to be: Monday, Mike; Tuesday, Mitch; Wednesday, Bo; Thursday, Jeremy ; Friday, Ronnie; Saturday, believe it or not, my brother Jeff, who wanted the rim-job, he said, and was willing to be fucked one time to get it; on Sunday, we'd leave following lunch. Colin would break in Rick on Monday; Jamie Tuesday; a friend named Josh Wednesday; one named Freddie Thursday; Jason, a guy in his twenties, Friday; his future apartment mate Win, Saturday. Stewart had: Monday, Clint; Tuesday, Owen; Wednesday, Madison; Thursday, a thirty-year-old late bloomer named Elliott; Friday, a late teen, Stan; Saturday, my friend Joe. Late in the afternoon, while we were working on dinner set-up, Alan came by on the sly to see me. I thought he was going to cry, and I really felt sorry for him. Winton was being an ass-hole to him, in a way Dad would never do to us boys. "How bad does it hurt, Will, the first time?" he wanted to know. "Anywhere from awful to not at all, depending on how you prep for it," I responded, honestly. "I loved it from the beginning." "Shit. How humiliating." He looked totally miserable. "Dad is such a fuck-up. He never wins at cards, but he always thinks he's going to. He has a gambling problem, not just here. I wish he'd just gamble with his own ass, not mine. "I'm sorry-I don't mean to put you guys down, really. I just don't want to squeal like a little girl in front of my dad and the others, that's all. Can you help me out, Will?" he pleaded. "But it has to be secret." "I'm not so sure how, Alan. It would have to be during the last part of tonight's card game, because once that is done, I'm busy the rest of the night, you know. "And it would be hard to keep secret. Our room is right off the main room, and everyone will be right there watching the action at the card game. There's no way they would not notice us training you right there. And I can't go far myself, because I have to keep up with the game, too." He fell silent. The guy was a sad case. But damn, he was a stunning looker even so. Suddenly an alternative occurred to me. "You know, Colin and Stewart could help you out. Even Chad, God he knows all about it by now." Alan considered that. All of those men were athletic, macho studs who had his respect. It might not be so bad having them penetrate him, if someone must break down the door. "Where, then?" "Take out a pontoon boat, secretly? There won't be hardly anybody down at the pier, say around ten or so." Alan thought a moment, and then nodded firmly. "You work it out with them. I'll be there." The guys owe me for this one, I thought. They get to be first at the glamor-jock's ass, and I can't even be in on it.