This story contains sexual exchanges and activities, mostly semi-nc/reluctant and a lot of it incestuous, between adults and an under-aged teenager or between teenagers, involving elements of punishment/torture, bondage, domination/submission, humiliation, exhibitionism, and lots of hard hot sex with multiple partners. If you can't bear to read such stuff or if it's illegal for you to do so, please stop reading right here. Otherwise, enjoy!
This story is about 14-year-old Jimmy who lives alone with his step-father Harry, a big, bearish, boy-loving bisexual in his 40's. For some reason, Jimmy seems to bring out the worst in his old man, and as time goes on, Harry finds more and more perverted ways in which to use and abuse his step-son, even bringing in his other boy-loving friends, Jimmy's own school-mates and teachers, the school janitor, and pretty much anyone else he can think of into the picture. Unlike my other stories, this one is told from the points-of-view of both Jimmy and Harry.
Comments and suggestions welcome at: email@example.com.
Jimmy - Part 1: Harry
"And when you come home this time, I want you to be real loose. I know you've got soccer practice today, so that shouldn't be a problem, should it?"
I grinned to myself as my son pretended not to have heard me as he made his way to the waiting bus. I was sure that the noise from the engine would have drowned my voice from the other kids already aboard anyway, but the humiliation the boy must have felt at the possibility of his friends hearing what I said was too much to resist. Since they could clearly see me standing there topless by the open door, I decided to give them a bit of a show and scratched my balls through my worn out boxers. I knew that some of them were already fucking my son regularly. They're probably wondering if I knew about it. I doubt that any of them were bright enough to realize that I was actually his pimp. One or two of the boys probably liked to be fucked, too, like my son, though they'd probably more readily admit it. Let them see this big hairy man with only his boxers on and wonder how it'd feel to be a helpless putty in my hands.
Jimmy certainly knew how it felt, knew it closely and intimately. It had been almost a year since I first turned him into a cockslut, ever since I 'caught' him with those adult gay mags. I must tell you that I've had the hots for him for a long time, ever since I first saw his angelic little face when Hannah invited me over for our first fuck session, two weeks before we got married (and two days after I got to know her at some local bar). I had been eyeing him ever since, though I've never had the opportunity to do anything about it until the divorce, which took place barely five months later. We had a fight about some biker type she had been seeing on my night shifts (like mother like son, I've always said), I slapped her about pretty hard and the slut (the female one, that is) simply disappeared the next day. I actually thought she'd come back but she never did. Which left me with Jimmy, of course, so I didn't really mind at all. He cried a lot in those days, but we pulled ourselves together and managed to get along on our own.
Yeah, Jimmy was my step-son. I probably had actual biological sons living around somewhere, but I usually left before they got to know me.
I didn't start to fuck the boy straightaway, of course. He was mighty upset, and messing around with him then would probably have fucked him up for life (well, the other kind of fucked-upness - I didn't want to be fucking a vegie for the rest of his life), or worse, got me into trouble. Instead I started in on him real slow, showing him how much I loved him and cared for him, convincing him with kind words and skin contact that all he ever needed in life was me. And every time I held him, I made sure I touched him more than any normal father would. Sometimes I would bathe him and lather soap all over him, or undress him for bed (I convinced him much earlier on that sleeping naked was the best way to stay healthy), or kiss him on the mouth as I tucked him in. They were little things that seemed innocent enough for a father to do, albeit somewhat uncommon on thirteen-year old sons, and it confused him a little, I think, but overall I think I pretty much nailed the caring single-parent act perfectly.
Since we're just two boys living alone together, I seldom wore anything other than just my boxers at home. Sometimes I didn't even bother to have those on. And of course I encouraged little Jimmy to do the same, though he never wore less than some sort of baggy shorts. I hated those shorts and had them burned later (soon after he 'converted'), but at the time I didn't want to push him too hard. I loved looking at that smooth slim little pubescent body as the boy moved about the house, just the perfect size for smothering in my big beefy embrace and for pressing hard into the mattress, suffocating him in my overpowering manliness. But I didn't want to ruin it all by acting too soon, and I was nothing if not patient. He was a growing boy, and I knew what boys at such ages go through. I knew damn well that pretty soon his hormones would kick in, and that would be the time for me to act.
I guess my plan to mess with his head worked, as he started to pay more attention to my naked body around the house. I knew he stole looks - sometimes very long looks - at my extra large adult cock while I 'slept' in my room (with the door open, of course) or on the couch. There were a couple times when I thought his hand moved as if to touch the monstrosity, but he managed to keep it under control. I didn't bother to tuck away the adult magazines I leafed through as I leisurely scratched my naked balls in the mornings, and I knew he went through them when he thought I wasn't looking. I didn't leave out the mags about the men and boys until later, however, that might have freaked him out. I never jacked off in front of him, though. As my cock hardened to its full nine-and-a-half inches at the photos I would grunt and stand up and make my way to the bathroom. I didn't tone down on the rough grunts and moans, of course. I wanted his imagination to run riot, to see me and only me and the way he thought I would look as I jacked off in every one of his fantasies.
This went on for a couple months, and then, of course, the coupe-de-grace. I'm not going to give you all the details right now, maybe later, but suffice to say, I caught him with the homo mags in his school bag, beat him up rather badly (I think it was my perceived anger more than the actual beating that really broke him), and then finally gave him what he wanted.
Well, it was more of what *I* had wanted, but it sure as hell was what he needed, even if he didn't think he did. It was what all cocksluts throughout history ever needed in life.
I told him that if he was really into all these gay stuff, that if he really wanted to feel how it'd be like to have another man's penis up his ass, he didn't have to look for it with some strangers or have unhealthy fantasies that would only interfere with his studies. He could simply come to me and ask for it. His expression turned absolutely horrified at that, although I couldn't imagine why, as it had obviously been the only thing he'd been thinking about for months.
"No, daddy, please.. No!!". I could still hear him whimper when I finally bent him down over the back of the sofa - he was short and small enough for a kid his age that his feet dangled in the air - and yanked his shorts down around his knees. He was squirming and twisting as I dropped my own boxers to the floor. His eyes went real wide at the sight of myraging hard-on, the awful realisation of his impending inevitable deflowering dawning on him like a block of concrete sinking into a river. It was a sight I would never forget.
He was a few months short of fourteen, and a virgin. I didn't use any lube. I didn't loosen him up first with my fingers. Oh no, I took him dry and raw. It was almost painful for me, so you could imagine how it felt for him. I had to keep a hand firmly on his face to avoid my neighbors coming over to see what all the racket was about.
He was oh so fucking tight. The tightest fuck I've ever had in my life, even compared to the dozen or so younger kids I screwed before I met him.
I came almost as soon as I got my full length inside Jimmy, such was my heightened state of arousal (I was so hot for him that the occasional prostitutes I visited after Hannah left never quite satisfied me). He should consider himself lucky, for at least the pain ended quickly. After I took out my softening but still hefty cock out of his busted cherry, I plopped his sniffling ass down on his back on the sofa, squatted astride his soft chest with one leg on the floor and told him to lick my baby-maker clean. He was lousy even for a first-time cocksucker, so I had to grasp him by the hair and guide him a lot. And not too gently, I fear, for cumming too quickly always put me in a black mood. But amid the sobbing and crying and scrunching up of the face in pain he managed to make my cock clean, no small thanks to me.
Now I know what some of you are going to say, that my cruel and sadistic ass deserves to be put in jail for that, that what I did was a crime. But you see, I knew something you don't. I saw how Jimmy looked at me, at my naked body. Once I pretended to be sleeping on the couch with my eyes half open (I knew from Hannah's and other previous whores' comments that I sometimes did that), my snake half- coiled down my beefy hairy right thigh, and I saw how Jimmy was staring at it. He had this dreamy look on his face, and his mouth was working itself as if eager to eat my manhood. I saw him look down, reach into his shorts and slowly pump his little cock (he must have learned about it in school - it's amazing the number of bad habits you can pick up at school and still most parents insist that their children attend them!). My leg twitched in my 'sleep' then, and Jimmy took off as if he'd seen a ghost. It was funny. His little balls must have shrunk up his ass.
So amid the wild sobbing and agonized little cries for mercy, I could actually detect the tell-tale excited quiver in his body, the electric thrill he felt when I first manhandled him onto that sofa and exposed his garden of delights to the world. The fuck was painful, no doubt, and he might have had some misgivings at that point, but by then I already knew what was good for him more than he did. Besides, I wanted to make it clear early on that I didn't want him to go all queer on me - I found those kinds of boys only good for the first fuck; after that they just got boring. And when I shoved my shit and slime covered cock - strangely enough there was very little blood on it - into his face, amid the gagging and the looks of pure disgust, I could actually feel the effort he put into sucking my dong. Actual, hollowed-out-cheeks sucking, not the lifeless, forced sucking effort of a rape victim. He still sucked at it (no pun intended), but he must have tried his damned inexperienced best. Well, yeah, it could all have been only my imagination, but I seriously doubt that. Jimmy was a born cockslut faggot, and I've never been wrong before.
That was almost a year ago. He's now much better at it, even if I say so myself. Not surprising since he's got a real good coach in me. He still cries and pretends to hurt but he's good.
"Sucks like a pro," I told a friend once, before he - who's a tough black mother- fucker, by the way - came over to try Jimmy out for himself. Oh yeah, if there was anything I loved as much as fucking my son, it was to let or better yet watch him get fucked by others.
It was I who, a few weeks after having my close friend and fellow boylover drop over and sample Jimmy, arranged for him to be fucked by his schoolmate.
I knew some boys from his school, his seniors by one or two years. They were in the soccer team, and since the team coach and me were good buddies from our earlier years in the army, I sometimes came to their games to watch. I know what you're thinking - the coach wasn't one of 'us', though. He was a perfectly straight guy with a wife and two kids of his own. But I did notice that some of the boys behaved somewhat peculiarly at times. There was this one kid, in particular, who caught my attention. He was a big guy for his age (which I learned was sixteen), and was obviously the alpha male of the group. The others were very respectful and deferential to him, which was normal enough. But I also noticed that one or two of the kids treated him much more deferentially than the others. Every time they arrived for practice or for a game, they would be the ones who prepared all of 'big brother's' stuff for him. They took care to make sure the coach didn't notice, but I saw one of them tie the big guy's shoes and re-adjust his shinpads for him during a game a few times. And afterwards, one or the other would always take those same shoes home, to wash for him, no doubt. And the big kid would sometimes have his arm around one or the other, somewhat forcefully and possessively, or steal a pinch on their bottoms when he thought no one was looking.
It was a familiar scene to me, and it only took half a second for the idea of introducing my son to the mix to cross my mind.
I told Jimmy about the kid, whose name was Bobby, and I told him to sneak into the locker room after a game and tell Bobby that he wanted more than anything to be the waterboy for the team. And I also told him specifically what to say to Bobby. That he would do anything Bobby wanted him to do, anything at all, to be granted that privilege. I had no doubt that Bobby would quickly catch on to the implications at that point. Like me, the jock would easily recognize a cocksucker when he saw one.
I could tell Jimmy was completely shocked at this. Thus far he had been fucked by only the two of us, my pervert buddy Sam and me. Molestation at school had apparently never crossed his naive mind. Which just went to show how much more he still needed to learn about his new life.
The first time I told him to do this he chickened out, despite knowing full well the consequences of such disobedience. That first fuck was nothing compared to the soreness he had to nurse after *that* particular little spate of rebellion. Credit to him he didn't disappoint me a second time. Despite what some people might say to us traditionalists, nothing else could top the miracles a long, hard and savage beating dished out alternatingly with cane, belt and shoe-soles could accomplish. What did I care if Bobby and his team-mates noticed Jimmy had so many welts on his back and bottom the next day? Bobby should be concerned with one thing and one thing only, and that is to have a piece of Jimmy's pert little ass. That second time, I told Jimmy to come back home wearing Bobby's dirty jockstrap (I didn't permit him to wear any undies ever since that day he got his cherry busted) and with at least two loads of the teenage jock's cum in his cunt. I didn't care how he did it - if he failed again, his ass was toast.
And sure enough, when Jimmy waddled home that evening, when I practically snatched him by the scruff of the neck right outside the door and dragged him flailing towards the kitchen table and yanked his pants down, there was his cute little butt encased in a dirty and smeared oversized jockstrap, and when I pulled his buns aside to reveal his asscrack, there was his cute little asshole, winking at me with streamlets of cum spurting out in small dribbles as in his fright he lost control of his grip on the sore clamping muscles. I did a double-take on his pants then and saw the seat was soaked. He must have been leaking steadily the whole bus-ride home. I just wished I was there to see how Bobby's eyes must have bulged when Jimmy begged him to cum up his ass. (Later I made the boy tell me the whole story, and describe to me the shame he felt while asking Bobby for the favor. After that we did some identity self- reinforcement exercises that culminated with Jimmy announcing quite loudly to the room that he was a 'cumloving cockhungry boyslut!' and a 'brainless fucktoy who loves to get his boypussy fucked and plugged by the fat cocks of men and boys!'. Oh yeah, that kind of thing is very health for a growing young boy like Jimmy).
"Good boy," I praised him, ecstatic at this new turn of events and barely able to keep the cool in my voice. In fact, I was so happy that I wasted no time before tearing off the jock and stuffing as much of it as possible into Jimmy's mouth while plunging my already raging manhood up the slick, squishy, used love tunnel that was my boy's new pussy. It was so hot knowing that soon many, many youngsters were going to be sharing this same pleasure hole with me. Jimmy would become a public receptacle of a sort, a distillation of the essences of countless healthy and virile young boys. When I fucked Jimmy, it would be like fucking a multitude of teenagers all at one time. So fucking wild. I came after the third instroke. But there was going to be no easy let off for Jimmy this time. I kept up the strokes in a leisurely rhythm until my cock grew back to full hardness, never leaving his used hole, and then proceeded to bang him again hard and fast. As I knew would happen, it took a deliciously long time before I finally cummed a second time, my cock spraying more manjuice deep inside my son's pussy even as he thrashed around with his own release.
Oh yeah, by that time Jimmy could already cum without even touching that little clit of his. I told you he was a slut.
A few days after that Jimmy was asked to report to the coach's office and was told that he had been officially selected as the team's waterboy. Bobby must've never managed to get his little jock head around that one, seeing as that he never actually talked to the coach about Jimmy asking him for the post. What neither boy knew, of course, was that neither of them had anything to do with it. The coach, being my good buddy as he was, gladly agreed to take Jimmy on the moment I mentioned the idea to him. He immediately understood how good it would make Jimmy feel to be on the team despite not having enough talent to make it himself, being the number one soccer fan that he was. It was so easy to sell the coach that stupid idea that I almost laughed aloud on the spot. No wonder I was the sergeant and he was only the lowly private.
All of that was more than five months ago. And Bobby unknowingly stuck to my plan as if he was there planning it out with me the day I envisioned it. Within a few weeks he was sharing Jimmy with his closest jock buddies, and two months on practically everyone on the team - even Bobby's 'slaves' - were regularly getting a piece of Jimmy's ass.
So you see, when I told Jimmy just now that he'd better be loose when he got home, I wasn't really asking for the stars, was I?
Why, you ask? Well sometimes I liked him tight, sometimes I liked him loose. It's really nothing more than a whim to me. I knew it was really hard for anyone who knew about Jimmy to resist having yet another go at him - he was hot - so most of the time I didn't mind if he came home with his hole gaping open.
Of course, at this time, nothing he was fucked with at school could have made his hole gaping as wide open as the pussy-splitter he entertained at home. My nine-and- a-half incher (and fully seven around) positively ripped him apart each time I slammed it into him. Sometimes even I got scared as I stared down at this massive veiny pole protruding from one end of this small waif-like figure spread like a delicious sacrifice before me. I would stare in wonder, transfixed as my pole slowly withdrew, causing Jimmy's ass-muscles to pulse and tighten in protest. As I pulled out further his pussy-mouth would sort of 'cave out', the ring collapsing outward as my cock dragged his guts out by maybe an inch or more. It was like I was ruining him each time, rearranging his helpless little insides with every stroke. Sometimes I thought I could see the outline of my cock in him from the depression marks on his smooth, fair little tummy, or when he had difficulty breathing I imagined it was because my cock was pushing up the base of his throat. It was fascinating to see how the easy simple act of shoving your cock in and out of a boy allowed you to take such total control over his body and bodily functions.
Oh, yeah. I just remembered about last night. I blew him wide open last night, first with my cock and then with that huge dildo that dwarfed even my dick! I could barely feel the walls of his love tunnel when I fucked him again later, so much so that I had to use my hands to squeeze his ass together for me to feel any kind of friction at all. His ass-lips must've been hanging out like a whore's used-up cunt lips this morning; no wonder he didn't walk right. And here I was telling him to be loose by the time he got home.
Hold on a second. Let me put on this tape where we double-fucked Jimmy last week and then I'll get back to you. I love to watch our tapes while Jimmy's off at school getting his ass raped. Usually I'd jack off very slowly as I watched the perverted acts I forced Jimmy to do and imagined how he was being utterly molested and gang- raped at school by those stronger, bigger bullies.
Ahh, there you go. Look at that cute little face with the huge black cock stuck halfway down its throat. The thing with Jimmy is, he never looked or sounded like he enjoyed it, not even after ten months of serious full time whoring. He was always whimpering in pain, begging to be let go, crying and sobbing and getting all teary- eyed every time anybody gave it to him good. Even with his boycunt hanging open like a fucking man-hole, he still complained of pain, and I'll be damned if he didn't always look convincing. Even when his little cock shot his boy sperm again and again as my cock drove his prostate wild, he would cry and try to crawl away and whimper "No, No... Please don't fuck me, daddy. Please! Please let me go, daddy. Please stop raping me!"
And no he wasn't shy to use the 'f' word either. In fact, as time went by he'd started using more and more dirty words in our little father-and-son sessions. He also seemed to know how to use them in the way that most pleased me. Now I'm not sure if school taught you that, or maybe those mags I let him keep weren't the only ones he'd been reading. Or maybe the boy's just got natural talent. He'd say things like "Oh dad you're ripping my boycunt!", or "No dad please don't shove that huge cock up my boypussy!". One thing I'm sure of is that he knew how much those words turned me on and that he was using them to make me go even rougher on him. The manipulative slut! And each time he said those words I would, like any good father, obligingly slam my cock into him that little bit faster and harder. And he would continue to scream his little screams and beg desperately for me to stop fucking him, which only made me piston in and out even faster, which made him cry out more, which made me.. you get the idea. Every single time I fucked him, his reactions would only make me want to fuck him more and more savagely.
Which explains why I'm still around. Usually, I didn't fuck the same boys for long. The moment they started to enjoy it, when they began to scream out at me to fuck them and fuck them hard, I would lose interest and leave. The only boy who I stuck around with for a time was a paper boy back when I was living in a different state, and that was only because he was so fucking flirty. He was as queer as they came, and he used to tease me with his body, bending it this way and that and showing me the good views, all without seeming to do it deliberately, and always in public, that when he cried out for me to take him to seventh heaven in our fuck sessions I would be just as satisfied as if he had screamed in pain. At first we did it after his rounds but soon we couldn't even wait that long, which left me with a great deal of extra newspapers and his boss a great many angry customers. It was also getting tricky for my neighbors to ignore that half-loaded bike lying discarded on its side on my front lawn till about noon almost every day. We used to get a kick out of him continuing his round (the first few times) with his cunt full of my jism and manjuice leaking onto his bike's seat. But that's another story.
Jimmy, however, was the jackpot. Every time I fucked him it would turn out as if I was raping him for the first time. Look at that face now, all screwed up in pain, and those eyes, all wet and teary, and those delicate hands clawing and grasping at the bedsheets as if all he wanted to do was get away and huddle up crying in the corner. This, after months of having been subjected to the same wild fuck by Sam and me. Any other boy would have his eyes closed, a dreamy fucking smile on his face and his hand on his cock as their wildest fantasies came true. Not so Jimmy. He insisted to continue to suffer and in so doing keep it fresh and enjoyable for me. He should be a role model for all other kids. The kid was an angel.
Oh wow, look at those two huge poles sticking out of that small white ass. Sometimes you had to wonder, how the hell were such things possible. Me and Sam's combined girth must've been at least 15 or 16 inches thick (he's longer and thicker than me!), and to watch that innocent little hole stretch out to accomodate us was unreal. The skin around the horny cunt's rim was pulled so taut that it looked pale white and positively transluscent. His whole ass, firm butts and all, had been transformed into practically one big hole. Fuck, Jimmy himself was one big hole, since hardly anything would remain of his small slim body if you took that asshole away. It was surreal. Nothing even got torn for a while as we alternated pushing into and pulling out of him, that was until we started ramming into him together, all 20 by 15 inches of sizzling throbbing mancock. You see, there could be only one explanation for all of this; Jimmy was born to be fucked.
Look at those huge cocks ramming in and out of that overstretched boypussy. Look at how that boyhole was inviting more, one part caving in as the black monster plowed into it and the other part blowing out as my huge pole trundled its way out of the used up tunnel, and then again in reverse. Again and again.
How long has it been? Fifteen minutes? Twenty? Man was this boy getting a workout. The pain was no longer causing Jimmy to instinctively tighten his ring, which took away our enjoyment just a little bit, but who could blame him. His hole was so splayed open already that you could have driven a bus through it and he wouldn't even bat an eyelid. But wait, we're getting to my favorite part as the action cuts to.. yeah, this is where Sam and me rammed in and out together, in tandem, both at the same time.
Oh man, look at that wide open hole completely giving in as we slammed into him and just blowing wide open as we pulled out up to our dickheads. Jimmy was certainly feeling it back now and twitching his hole, though we could hardly feel it anymore, as totally stretched out as he was. We certainly weren't holding anything back. You hear that? Yup, that's Jimmy alternately moaning and howling like some injured animal. When he no longer had the strength to scream, he liked to make this long, low moaning sound - like a cow would make when it laid down dying. When he becomes like that, I relish the challenge to see if I could make him howl again with a slightly different technique or angle or just pure savagery. Like.. that! Do you hear those howls now, those banshee howls of pure pleasureless pain? That's the sort of thing I'm talking about, the things that drove us on, men like Sam and me.
The noise? Oh, not to worry. We were in Sam's studio. It's completely soundproof.
Now another of my favorite parts. Maybe this time you'll see what I was talking about, when I said Jimmy was simply irresistable. Sam's holding up the camera this time. You'll have to forgive him, it's not easy to operate a video cam and fuck the hell out of a little kid at the same time. Watch as we focused on Jimmy's upper torso and face. That's me under the kid, as if you wouldn't have guessed. Look how small he is lying on his back on top of me. He's like a child in the hands of a mighty god. Well, ok, maybe he is a child. Never mind. Look at those white slim arms, delicate and twig-like compared to my tanned, beefy, weight-trained adult arms as my iron grips held them up over his head and out of the way. That smooth fair skin, those soft mounds of under-developed chest and the small pink nipples. That little head with the cute angelic face shaking at times crazily and at times limply from side to side as the doe eyes glazed in painful ecstacy and the eminently kissable mouth parted in bliss and uttering uncontrollable guttural groans of blissful agony.
I mean, admit it, if a creature like that were to suddenly drop down naked onto your lap, there is no way in hell that you could have resisted fucking it.
Sam was right. He once told me that it was simply impossible for any man not to delight in raping little Jimmy to pieces. Jimmy appealed to that most basic, carnal desire in men to dominate and demonstrate their superiority. And yet I kept having this small nagging doubt at the back of my head that somehow, somewhere, I was being had. Sometimes I thought I caught glimpses of it, in the way Jimmy's soft blue eyes looked at me as I pumped my cock into him. There was some kind of challenge in that look, not the sort that questioned my authority or despised my sadistic desires, but the sort that said, 'Come on, do your worse. Is that the best you can do?'. It was like he was challenging me to claim more of him, to conquer him completely and be all there was for him, to leave no part of his puny body that I don't take and make mine. He wanted me to fuck him body and soul. And the kicker was, it was more of what he wanted, rather than what I wanted.
So you see, of course it was impossible not to fuck the daylights out of Jimmy every chance I got.
I'm fucking close to cumming now. Jimmy's only been gone an hour and already I miss him. I can already see what I would do to him when he comes home. I would jam my thick fingers into his moaning slutty mouth, forcing them deep into that pale delicate throat. I would finger and defile every inch of his cavities, making it clear to him that no single spot on and in his body is sacred to me. All parts of him shall taste me and shall remember the rough greed with which I use and abuse them, leaving them behind a quivering wreck, every single cell in them screaming only for more. My power over him would be absolute. He would be nothing more than the helpless, mindless little object of my unbriddled passion.