Perverts 'R' Us

Another Pedo Church Group

By JoeKid ( MMM/bb, m/b, pedo, oral, anal, inc )

I'm going to like this church. Never thought I'd say that, but still...I also sure the fuck never thought I'd be in a church hall filled with members of the congregation, all naked, just like the fucking pastor, just like all their kids, from babies right on up to that hairy football-player type teen with his dick in my little girl's asshole. Fat dick, too. She screamed a lot when it went in, even though she's used to me. I'm thick and damned long. Football boy was a hell of a lot thicker. My other girl, the younger one, was around here somewhere. Yeah. Over there. With the pastor's dick in her cunt, the pastor's young preteen son with his dick in her ass, and my little girl's mouth eagerly eating out the twat of the pastor's wife. A real family affair.

I'm glad she's getting the experience. She really loves eating pussy, especially hairy ones that get really wet. Not that she has much chance of that with me. No wife. Not that they're my biological kids anyway. Bought them over in Rumania three years ago when they were three and five. Paid a premium price, too, but fuck, they've earned that back and more with my friends. And their friends. And their friends. Amazing how many men are willing to pay a premium price to use baby girl sluts like mine.

Things got a little hot back...well, fuck, let's just say "there" and leave it at that...so I got new identities for us, and moved to this little town in the back of nowhere. Figured I'd lay low for a while, just enjoy the girls myself, not do anything else since the town was so fucking small no way to keep it a secret if I sexed some local kiddy cunt. But then the pastor came to call. Got no patience with religion and welcome-fucking-wagons, no desire to attend some fucking church ice cream social, and I was just about to heave his ass outta my fucking living room, when the girls came in.

Dressed, fortunately. For obvious reasons they mostly don't wear clothes. I mean, if Daddy wants to dip his dick in a hole, he shouldn't have to wait to get rid of clothes. I mean, fuck.

Well, mostly dressed. Sort of dressed. Eight-year-old Silvia was wearing panties that were almost but not quite see-through and nothing else. Six-year-old Alina-Marie (Lina to anyone with his dick inside her) was wearing a sundress, and when she plopped down on the sofa, lifted her legs and put her heels on the edge, it was clear to God, Jesus, the saints, and the fucking pastor that she wasn't wearing anything else. I was about to go into the kids'll-be-kids-whatta-ya-gonna-do song and dance routine I'd perfected when I first accepted my inner pedo and made it my fucking out pedo way of life, but stopped.

There was an expression in the pastor's eyes I recognized. Christ. I picked a small town in the Bible Belt; picked it very carefully; created all the documentation to show I was a grieving widower with two young girls to take care of, needing desperately to get away from the hustle and bustle (choke, restrained sob) of "back there" so that the girls could recover from their loss in rural peace and quiet and serenity while their stay-at-home dad took loving care of them. And the damned pastor here was a pedo.

The real goddamned thing. It takes one to know one and I know pedos like me pretty damned well. He did a pretty good job of hiding it, just not good enough. The slight widening of his eyes when he got a glimpse of Lina's hairless slit, before he slid his glance away so I wouldn't catch him. The instinctive muscle movement in his right hand and arm, like he wanted to, had to, grab his dick and squeeze it, but restrained, so it didn't happen. The casual flick of his eyes at my crotch en route back to my face.

I adjusted my package. Which stopped him from saying whatever his mouth was opening to say. Not enough of an adjustment to be called playing with myself, but enough that I plumped up. Visibly so when I took my hand away. I didn't have too many more clothes on than my daughters, well, fuck, pretty much the same amount. Just a pair of old jeans shorts, very short, very tight, very faded. And nothing else.

He cleared his throat. Paused. And fucking adjusted his own package. And crossed the line into playing with himself. Just for a moment; just long enough to get a visible hardon. Not too visible, of course, since he was wearing his pastor clothes for a fucking pastoral visit, and obviously had on underwear, probably good Baptist (or whatever the fuck denomination he was) tighty-whities. I let my own cock firm up in response. He noticed. Fuck, he'd have to be blind not to notice.

He smiled. Hell of a lot more believable than the one he'd used when he half-forced his way past my front door to welcome me to their blessed little community. "Your daughters are quite beautiful. You must...love them a lot."

A statement with just the faintest hint of question. It wasn't hard to understand I was supposed to substitute "fuck" for "love" in that sentence. "Yes, I do love them. They frequently need my loving, especially now."

His smile was more of a grin, then, as he did his own fuck-for-love substitution, and clearly heard the words I wasn't saying aloud: Yeah, and I'm going to bury my dick in one of their cunts as soon as you get the fuck out of here.

Which was when he invited me to a private meeting of special members of his congregation. Only for families with children, like me. Just like me was the tiny emphasis there. Perhaps I'd be interested in learning how his flock expressed God's love, maybe even consider becoming a member of the congregation. Several families had joined the church after just such a meeting. He wouldn't be at all surprised if I made the same decision, but I certainly wouldn't be pressured. Just free to accept their love and God's love, or decline. That's what his church was all about. Open-minded, open-hearted, loving and kind. A church that shared.

Very, very good. If the Feds were taping the conversation, they'd never know I'd just been invited to bring my little girls to a church-sponsored pedo orgy.

Very fucking good indeed. Things were looking up, so to speak, for my stay in this out back of beyond town. My dick joined the silent "hallelujahs" with a spurt of pre-cum that immediately stained my shorts.

I demurred, allowed as how I hadn't ever been a religious person, and my daughters had never been to church. Well, maybe not quite true. Did it count as "going to church" when the Catholic priest who ran the orphanage/brothel where I bought them, fucked each of them on the altar? And then let the altar boys have their turns? A most unusual church. I never knew the pope allowed such old and hairy altar boys. And so many. Not that I was going to tell Pastor Rob any of that. At least not at the moment.

He spoke; I held back. We played the game. Finally a short volley that left him the clear winner of the match when I agreed that perhaps church might be good for my little girls' souls (holes?) and mine, too.

Which is how I found myself naked in the church meeting hall the next Saturday afternoon. Along with naked grandparents, fuck, at least one great-grandfather from the look of him, naked parents, uncles, aunts, all shapes and sizes and looks. And naked children. Damn but this town believed in being fruitful and multiplying.

My little sluts were instant hits with both sexes. Great. Lina could get her fill of working on hairy pussies for a change, and God knew...how could she not...there were a lot of hairy pussies in that room. As for me, I let a few of the little girls have a taste of my leaking dick; but just wandered around for a bit as the orgy got really going.

And then something strange happened - strange for me, at least. I started noticing the boys - the pastor's twelve-year-old son, still hairless, with a slender uncut, slightly curved cock about three inches long. Jack...big hairy football boy who had been eying my little ones the moment they took off their clothes. A couple other teens with nice young cocks they were using on women and girls and other boys. But mostly, the boys. The young boys. The young, younger, fucking youngest boys.

What the fuck?

I don't know. Maybe it was the way the pastor rammed two fingers into his son's ass and the boy grunted and thrust back then thrust forward to slide his dick in my little girl's hole. Maybe it was the big-bellied farmer type with deeply-tanned face, neck, and forearms, with the rest of his hairy body stark white, and a fat, gnarly cock plunging in and out of an ecstatic tiny boy with his own little hardon. Maybe it was the skinny teen with the white-haired great-grandpa fucking his boy ass and a grandpa-type fucking his mouth. Maybe it was the six or so boy screaming with pain, begging his daddy not to hurt him, even though his little dickie was hard while daddy pounded his boy cunt and twisted his little tits.

Well, hell, of course I'd had fags suck my dick, when there wasn't a woman or a little girl around. A good cocksucker's mouth is always better than jacking by yourself. Ploughed plenty of fag ass in the Marines, too. Amazing how many huge, muscled, hoorah!-semper-fi marines are pussy boys at heart. But fuck, those were all men.

I'd never had a little boy before. Never even gave it a passing pedo thought. But that particular pedo thought didn't pass by. It stayed. Locked and loaded. And my dick was not only hard and dripping a steady stream of pre-cum, it almost fucking hurt. I needed to find a hole to fuck. Knew it had to be boy hole. Young boy hole.

Which is why I started moving around the room with a new focus. Like I said, watched Jack ram his fat meat into Sylvia's hole. Enjoyed her screams and moans, but instead of letting her suck my cock like I normally would, I was playing with Jack's sweaty, hairy crack, and his hole. Fondling his balls where they were banging against my girl's ass. Poking a finger inside his hole. He turned his head, got a glimpse of the size of my meat and its wet, oozing state, smiled at me and said, "I ain't been fucked in a while, man, but damn! that cock would feel good in my hole while I'm fucking this tight little pussy." I just smiled and said "another time" and went on walking.

Checked on Lina. Seventh fucking heaven of course. Just like I would have been if that TV show had been real and I'd had those girls and, well now I guess, those boys as well, to sex as they were growing up. Pastor and son both volunteered their cunts for my use while they were using Lina, but I did the "another time" bit with them, too. I knew I'd get around to fucking Jack sometime, later if not today, ditto pastor and son. But I needed something more. Something different. Something way fucking younger.

And I found it.

Which is how I wound up with the baby boy. Well, the pastor had said everyone was there to share in the joys of God's love. That all I needed to do was select someone to share with. So when I stopped at the baby changing table and saw the plump little boy splayed out as his young mother changed his diapers, I suddenly knew who was going to share my love, God's love. She was silent when I fondled my first baby boy pricklet; silent when I scooped thick oozing pre-cum from my dick slit and used it to lube his tiny hardon; silent when I sucked my first boy dick. Christ, my first baby boy dick.

I fucking liked it.

I asked her how old he was. If I'd been a girly-girl type I might've swooned when she told me nine months.

I asked her if her son had ever shared God's love before. She looked at my meat, hesitated as if she were going to refuse what she knew I was asking. Jesus, bitch! I was thinking. You fucking knew what was going on here or you would've been long gone. But you stayed. You couldn't miss all the men fucking little boys. But you stayed. You want this, bitch, you fucking know you do, you want your precious baby boy to be used, maybe like you were used by your daddy when you were this young. So give me a fucking break, answer the fucking goddamn question with the answer I want, you want, all God's chillun want, before I just yank him off the table!

I guess she must've seen some of those thoughts...I was glaring them pretty goddamn hard at her, and I can convey a fucking lot of data with one of my glares...because she finally said that he hadn't. And then she handed her naked boy to me. Fuck! I was about to lose my boy pedo virginity with a real fucking virgin baby boy!

Which is how I found myself the center of attention, though at one side of the room, not long afterwards. I'd forced my knob into his tiny mouth, almost choking the kid as I made him work as much of my cock as I could. It wasn't very satisfying. Fuck, you'd think the boy's father would have started him sucking early, and trained him right. But at least his slobber and drool got part of my meat wet.

We also had an audience. Not a big one, at least not then. Two men. One grey-haired, head and chest and pubes. Big-bellied, but not fat. Better than average cock. Stroking while he watched. The younger man was staring, too, but looked...odd. Or his expression was. He was hard and jacking, but not with the, well, intensity of the older guy. What the fuck. I had more important things to do than figure out horny bastards who wanted to watch the action.

Like I said, he'd need some work to be a decent cocksucker, and I wasn't in the mood for training right now. At least not mouth training.

When I stopped using his mouth, grey-hair asked, "You going to use him? You know...."

"Jesus, man, you askin' if I'm gonna fuck kid-cunt for Christ?" I shook my head in disbelief. "Kind of obvious where my cock is going next, isn't it?"

"No one's ever...."

I interrupted grey-hair. "Yeah. I know. Great, isn't it? I've never fucked a boy before, and my first one is a virgin baby. Huh." I looked up at the two, no, five men and one teen boy watching. "Makes me wonder. Y'know. If we're fuckin' little boys in Jesus' name, y'have to wonder if Joseph was getting any kiddy cunt while his not-son was growing up. Right?"

Well, fuck me if that wasn't a disturbing thought to most of them. Except maybe farmer-guy, who started jacking harder, shut his eyes to get the movie in his mind in focus, and kind of moaned, "Oh, damn. Big old daddy Joseph dick fuckin' the hell out of baby Jesus cunt. Hot, man, goddamn fucking hot."

Grey-hair again. "No. It's just...well...we've never...uh...fucked anyone that young before."

Couldn't help it. Had to laugh. "Well, Jesus, I can't help it if you all are too dumb to take advantage of what's available." I raised my voice. "Hey, Pastor Rob, if mommy brought kid cunt here, it's fuckable, right?"

There was a bit of laughter in his voice as he called back from the far end of the room, "In Jesus' name, my son, in Jesus' name."

I looked at grey-hair and the cocks me and the kid were surrounded by. "See? Pastoral blessing and Jesus did say we should suffer the kids to cum unto him." Paused. "Anyone know the kid's name?"

"Joey," someone said.

"Well, Joey, if anyone knows any reason why my cock and your baby cunt should not be joined in holy fuck, let him speak now or forever hold his peace."

No one spoke. I was surprised...not!

So I tried little Joey's other end. He wasn't happy when I sat down, held him over my rigid meat, fumbled with my cock to get it in the right place, but grey hair decided to be helpful and grabbed my meat, lined it up and held it steady while I pulled little Joey down by the waist and got my dick head inside his tight little pussy. Not fucking easy, but goddamned rewarding. Tighter than any girl cherry I'd ever taken. Grey hair continued to help. Put his hands on the boy's shoulders to push, when I pulled down again. Fuck what a screamer. Howled and cried a lot, in fact. Probably would've been better if I'd had lube, but no one offered any. That way wasn't satisfying either. Not enough leverage.

So we wound up on the floor, baby Joey on his belly and me doing fuck pushups over him, pounding as much of my dick as I could get into his incredibly tight cunt without killing him. It wasn't a lot, but damn the wailing and the tears were a turn on. I pulled out for a second, kneeled back on my haunches, looked at the gaping boy cunt hole I'd made. The kid might've tried to escape but he was too exhausted, and in any event, grey hair looked ready, willing and able to keep the boy in place if he tried.

I looked around again. Bigger crowd now. Including women and some girls. Guess they liked the idea of young Joey getting fucked. Well, well, well. Mommy was back. Looked sort of distraught, and sort of hopeful, like maybe I was done and she could get her baby back and ease his pains. But she didn't try, so I guess it wasn't really that important to her. Especially not with her right hand twisting her right nipple and a good part of her left hand inside her cunt.

I spat a couple of times on Joey's pussy, smeared some of the crap and blood around and plunged back in.

I don't think I mentioned that I'm not exactly a gentle fucker. I like it rough. Hard. And the kids lucky enough to get my dick just have to learn to love it. Or not. Either way was a turn on that only made my cum better.

I don't know what watching mommy really thought, but the men who were standing around us, watching, jacking, mouthing obscenities, urging me to rape his baby cunt even harder, definitely appreciated my fuck style. Some were getting blowjobs, but not really good ones since their cocksuckers were trying to watch the baby fuck action, too. Grey hair was down on the floor with us, feeling us up as my cock plunged in and out and then I was shouting out one of the best goddamn cums I'd had in a long time. Kid was shouting right along with me. Different reason to shout, though.

When I was done, I pulled out quickly so that the kid cunt hole would stay open, oozing cum and slime and blood. I barely moved up and off the kid when grey hair took my place. Rammed his cock in, and the boy howled again. There was a shocked "Dad!" and I looked up quick enough to see it was Joey's mommy. Hot fucking damn. Grandpa was taking sloppy pedo seconds with his no longer virgin grandson. And from the eager expression on the face of no-longer-nervous-guy, down on his knees next to them, playing with grandpa's big hairy ass and fingering grandpa's hole, the kid's daddy was going to take thirds.

But I was still hard. Still horny. Still needing to fuck for Jesus. Suffer the little children and all that shit. I'd already suffered one. I needed another. I moved out of the crowd which was now watching grandpa fuck his baby grandson. Looked around. There had to be...there was. Right over there. A tall, thin, naked nigger seated on a couch, his legs spread wide, a fucking long, soft dick and big, very low hanging balls sagging between his legs. I've known a few blacks in my time, a very few, but for some reason this guy struck me as definitely nigger. Not that it was his cock I was interested in. His boy's. His naked, plump little boy, all smooth, milk-chocolate skin, straddling his father's right thigh, while daddy held him in place with one hand on the boy's side, and daddy's big left hand flat on the boy's little belly. Damn but those full kid lips looked like God had designed them to wrap around dick and give cock pleasure. My dick.

Then it hit me. It was just him and the boy. No one else around. Sitting there doing nothing. Looking...kind of bored, kind of pissed. All over the rest of the room kids were getting whatever holes were available filled with cock or fingers or a strap-on dildo, but daddy nigger and his boy were all alone.

What the fuck?

Well, the Marines had reinforced what my own daddy taught me a long time ago. You don't engage the enemy without good intelligence, unless you have no other choice. But I had a choice here. I went back to Pastor Rob, who was graciously turning over Lina's cunt to the really old man I'd spotted when we first arrived. A different dick was in her asshole. Middle-aged.

Pastor Rob stood up, looked down at my hardon, still somewhat wet from cum, ass juices, shit and blood. Licked his lips like he was gonna offer to clean me up, but didn't since I interrupted his line of lust by asking him "who's that?" with a very casual nod toward the nigger on the couch. The preacher looked and his face became grim, his lips thinned.

"Not very popular, I take it?"

He shook his head, obviously still trying to decide what to say, or how much of it to say. I could tell there was plenty of "it," too.

"Mr. Whitman. He bought the bank last year."

I blinked. "Mr." in the midst of little girls and boys getting gang-banged in all of their delightful kiddy holes? And a very non-pastoral chill in the pastoral voice. "Cold-hearted bastard like the guy in that Christmas movie, I take it?"

"Yeah, and then, too...." He stopped. Made a decision. Started up again. "We haven't had a...black family around here in, oh, forty, fifty years. It's not that I mind...."

"Having a nigger in the neighborhood?" I interrupted. "Who wouldn't mind? Who cares how the fuck much money they have, they just lower property values for the rest of us and never seem to know their place."

Pastor Rob got this wide-eyed look, but what with all the fucking and sucking going on around us, and the way I lowered my voice, only he had heard. He looked like he was going to say something, politically correct undoubtedly, but then he paused, flushed and just nodded.

"So what's he doing here, with his son? Watching the white perverts providing him with entertainment?"

The pastor backed away from where his family was getting royally fucked, so we were a little separate from what was going on. "Maybe. But it's kind of complicated. The...uh...principal of the grade school has this, well, fetish, no one knew about."

"Let me guess. Niggers?"

The pastor nodded. "Even as his spiritual adviser, he never told me. No one in the church knew, either, until...The Incident."

Christ, I could hear the capital letters on that one. I guess most small towns or cities have some big event that everyone remembers, and the nigger-loving principal was obviously this town's.

"Mrs. Whitman...Angela...drove their little girl to kindergarten every day. Showing off their fancy Mercedes, even though she could have walked her daughter like everyone did, except the ones who actually live too far to walk. They always arrived early, and she'd bring the girl inside to wait. So Ben...who is a perfectly respectable Jew of course...found out and started arriving extra early, too. He told me later it was so he could watch the girl, and store up images in his head of how pretty she was and then jack off in his private toilet after the first bell rang.

"But one day, a couple of months ago, he had some work to do and came in unusually early, when the school doors were open, and except maybe for the janitor there was no one else around. And the Whitman Mercedes was parked by a side door. He went quietly looking for them, to ask why she was bringing a little girl to school so early when the girl could have slept longer. At first he couldn't find them, until he heard a loud gasp and moan from the girls' bathroom on the second floor. He walked in to find Mrs. Whitman on a toilet stool, with her skirt up around her waist, legs sprawled, and her little girl kneeling on the floor and eating her mother's pussy.

"She was naturally panic-stricken when she was discovered, and Ben said she seemed more afraid of her husband finding out than she apparently was of the police he was threatening her with. He kept up the pressure and she finally told him that the Whitmans had moved to this "damned backwater" because her husband caught her sucking off the next door neighbor and his eight-year-old son. He paid off the neighbor, made her promise never to do anything like that again, and moved here where he figured she'd be under so much scrutiny in a small town she'd be afraid to do anything for fear of getting caught. Except she did.

"They made a deal. She could use his office to sex her little girl so they wouldn't get caught again, provided he got to watch and join in if he felt like it. He felt like it later, when she brought the girl to his office after the morning session, and he got his first nigger pussy...he popped the girl's cherry, on his office floor, holding his hand over her mouth to keep her screams from being heard. That would have been that, and none of us would have ever known, except that Ben sometimes gets carried away when he's cumming and just starts spewing random dirty thoughts. Which is all well and good if you're sexing kiddy-cunt nearby and the filth turns you on, but one of the random thoughts he let go of that day was how much the church was going to enjoy this prime piece of nigger girl pussy.

"His turn to give in to pressure and tell her about our church...your church now, I hope?"

I looked around at the almost wall-to-wall kiddy sex and then back at him. Smiled. "How could I resist...Jesus' love?"

He smiled back, looked down at my hardon, which had gone away and then come back with the images of Ben fucking kindergarten nigger cunt on his office floor while she squealed and thrashed and probably begged her mommy for help. Fucking hot! I almost asked how a devout Jew got to be part of a Christian pedo church, but kept my mouth shut for the time being.

"Ben thought he had a solution, though, to keep her to himself. He was adamant that the church only allowed couples into this group, and since her husband so obviously disapproved of what she did, well....

"Unfortunately, she showed up the next time we met, with an obviously pissed off husband in tow. We have no idea how she accomplished it, but he stripped off when she did, watched his five-year-old daughter get naked and go down on his wife, and calmly went over to that chair and sat down. There were a great many of us who were more than a little displeased when Ben explained the hows and whys of the Whitmans' presence, but no one can stay angry with Ben for very long. He's too good-natured. Besides his having brought in many new members over the years. And, too, there's his generosity with his cock. He'll fuck any hole that's offered, and on occasion, will give up his own ass if a strap-on dildo, or a man's or boy's cock is interested."

"And that's all this nigger does? Just sit and watch?"

The pastor nodded. "And never gets hard."

"Arrogant bastard."

"We think so."

The pastor was definitely opening up. "So why haven't you done something about it, Pastor Rob? Gotten him involved? Persuaded him to share Jesus' love with someone in your congregation? Or several someones? From the size of that meat soft, he'd probably please a lot of cunts, male or female, with a hardon."

"First, he's a nigger. Second, no one is willing to give him that much more power over us. He already has far too much power from owning the bank. Imagine what he'd be like if one of us offered to have sex with him and he turned us down. Or agreed and used us? It would be even worse to have him fuck us over in the church as well as fucking us over at the bank."

But I wanted that little nigger boy. And Whitman didn't have any power over me. I'd dropped 200K into his bank for the convenience of having cash on hand, but I could just as easily take it out again. As a banker he needed me a lot more than I needed him.

I smiled, and internally the pastor pulled back. Not cowering and gibbering, but suddenly nervous. I've been told I have a very cold, predatory smile when I'm planning someone's demise...though generally I don't leave any bodies behind, except, perhaps, financial corpses. An idea had struck me. Complete the instant it arrived, as most of my best ideas are. Of course, a few details needed to be...ah...fleshed out.

"Tell me, pastor, if Whitman were to come to you on hands and knees and kiss your feet and beg you to fuck his useless nigger man-pussy...do you think you might get a hardon for him?"

Pastor Rob licked his lips. "On his knees? Begging?" He put his hand down and started playing with his cock, which was starting to rise. Looked down at the hardon that was ready a moment later, looked back at me. "I think the Lord has blessed me with the energy to do so."

I explained what I planned to do, and then we had to consult with a few of the men, and then there would have to be a wait, no more than a few minutes, the pastor assured me. In the meantime, Pastor Rob decided to express some advance appreciation for solving the town's nigger problem. He got on his knees, thoroughly cleaned my cock and then gave me a nice leisurely blowjob, not enough to get me off, just keep my interest...uh...up.

Then farmer-type...fuck...John?...you know, if I'm going to fuck their kids, the least I can do is learn their names...came back into the room through the door the pastor said led to the kitchen. He raised the brown paper bag so I saw it; set it down and started stripping again. I waited for him to get naked, nodded to him, then headed back across the room toward Whitman.

Now you take a small town where pretty much everyone knows everyone else's business, except perhaps for a few things. Like the smaller group within the town who were pedophiles for Jesus, fucking each other and fucking each other's kids and their own in the Lord's name. People are pretty much going to be tuned in to one another, to sense things. Now granted, I'd just put on a damned fine fuck show for them not long ago, but I'd sort of faded from their awareness a bit what with talking so long to the preacher. Guess they figured he was giving me pastoral advice on who to fuck next. And then the other men. Now here I was, hardon pointing the way as I headed straight across the floor...well as straight as you can when there are so many adults and children having sex in my way.

There was just this kind of "shiver" of awareness as I stopped in front of Whitman. Not that anyone stopped fucking or sucking; after all, what was going on with their cocks and cunts was real. My potential "show time" was just a possibility. Clearly a cock in the cunt is better than two later in the hand. Or something.

A naked white man with a pretty damn big, starting to ooze pre-cum hardon, is damned hard to miss when he's standing in front of you, and you're seated and you know that if you were so inclined you wouldn't have to lean down much to get the dick in your mouth. If you were inclined that way, that is. If you weren't so inclined you'd still know there was a white hardon in your face.

"Mr. Whitman?"

"Yes."

He didn't offer his hand; would probably have excused it on the basis his son was on his right knee and his right hand was on the kid's belly, gently holding him in place. I didn't offer, either.

"We didn't get a chance to meet when I was at the bank last week to open several accounts. Perhaps you were told I made a rather large deposit? Glen Brady." At least that was my current name.

"Yes."

Yes, we didn't meet? Yes, he knew about the deposit? Yes, I was Glen Brady? And he was avoiding the hardon. But like the elephant in the room, no matter how many times you look away your eyes always come back to it.

"I'm considering making another deposit, double, perhaps triple the size of the first one, and having the bank handle some investments, a possible trust, for me."

"I have an opening in my calendar at 11 on Monday. Come by then and we can discuss your needs." The grimace at his bad choice of words was so fleeting I was probably the only one who caught it.

"Ah, yes, my...needs." At that he couldn't help but flick a look at my cock. I'm excellent at multi-tasking. So while part of me was handling the conversation, another part was thinking and fantasizing about plunging my dick into tiny nigger boy-pussy, which was keeping me hard and leaking. "You see, I would prefer to discuss my...needs...here and now. But first, who is this fine young man? Your son?"

"Yes."

The short answers were annoying, but that was what Whitman intended. He was a damned fool if he thought mere annoyance was going to deter me from something I wanted. But then, he didn't know me as well as he was going to.

"What's his name?"

"Marcus."

"How old is he?"

The silence stretched out until he finally looked at my face and realized I was ready to out-wait him. "Three."

Not as good as two, of course. Definitely not as fucking good as nine months. But I had no intention of being too refined in my sudden new tastes and passing on him. "And have you shared Christ's love with him, as your brethren here have with their own children?"

What his suddenly murderous eyes said was, "These perverts are no fucking 'brethren' of mine!" What his lips let out was, "No."

"Well, then. Perhaps we can accommodate each other's needs, Mr. Whitman. I believe you might have a need, or maybe merely a desire, for another deposit twice the size of the first one. And I have a definite to need to fuck more young boy pussy today...you understand, of course...nigger baby boy-cunt."

His outrage at being offered money by a pedophile in exchange for his son's cherry was amusing to watch. I think that pissed him off more than referring to his boy as a nigger. "No."

"Three times the first one." That would be 800K of my money in his hands. If he was smart, he'd tie me down to a long-term relationship...at least professionally.

He wasn't smart. "No."

"Four times." He'd have a fucking million dollar account in his bank. Damn serious money for a town this size. I could see the temptation working on him. But then...the temptation was going, going, gone.

"No."

"Too bad, Mr. Whitman. I'd hoped we could negotiate a peaceful resolution to our differences. But you see, I always ensure that my needs are met, one way or the other. And I've already told you what I both need and want right now. No, no, don't get up, Mr. Whitman. John, show Mr. Whitman why he needs to sit back down."

Farmer John...ah, a way to remember his name...had his right hand in the paper bag, like he was reaching for candy or something, with his left hand holding the bag steady. Whitman hadn't noticed him approaching us. Too focused on keeping whitey pedo away from his son. The "or something" John was reaching for...and promptly showed to Whitman...was a very old-fashioned .45. I sure guessed right that even at a church pedo orgy one of the good ol' boys was going to have a gun nearby. John slid the bag back over it. Whitman sat back down, but slowly enough he could claim he was doing it for his own reasons and not because of a gun being pointed through a paper sack at his cock and balls.

"I tried to handle this in a professional, courteous manner, Whitman, a simple business arrangement, but you rudely declined. I thought I might need a Plan B, and this is it. You are going to hand over your nigger pussy-boy son, and I'm going to fuck him here and now while you watch. His boy-cunt first, and then his mouth. Later, you will train him in how to properly care for a white man's cock with his mouth, but his little cunt belongs to me, or whoever I give him to. If you don't agree, then there's going to be a distraction across the room, you're going to get knocked out, and your caring brethren...all of them male, all of them strong...are going to carry you out of here, put enough clothes on you to make you appear respectable if anyone should see you, and drive you home. A little later this afternoon, you'll do a Richard Cory."

The look on his face was exasperating, but I wasn't really surprised by it. Anger, fear, of course, but puzzlement as well. I guess even niggers with his level of education never manage to get truly educated, to acquire any culture. The stupid fuck didn't know who Richard Cory was. I enlightened him.

"Richard Cory, Whitman, was a man in a poem...a man who had everything anyone could ever want." His eyes sneered "oh, poetry" at me. "I had to memorize it for school and I've never forgotten it. The last few lines go:

His eyes widened in shock as he finally understood. "But...you can't. You'll be caught."

"Are you thinking of CSI? Miami-New York-Las Vegas-wherever? See that grey-haired man over there? The one whose daughter-in-law is sucking his dick while his son fucks her ass, and grandpa plays with his grandson's freshly-fucked pussy? That's the sheriff. Once the sad facts are explained to him, I'm sure there won't be a single bit of forensic evidence that shows you did anything other than kill yourself for some unknown reason, just like Richard Cory. Your wife gets your money, and whether I rent him from her or she just loans him out, I'm going to wind up with his pussy anyway. Now hand him the fuck over."

Poor little boy was all nervous, turning his head back and forth, on the verge of tears since our voices weren't exactly soothing. So he didn't really understand why his daddy was handing him to the white man with the big stiffie. Surprised the fuck out of the people who were nearby but not in earshot when he gave me his kid.

The baby nigger was standing to my left, holding my hand. I leaned over him, played with his baby prick, got it hard, smiled back at him when it started to feel good. I stood up, stretched my hand out to Whitman, pointed the first two fingers at his fat-lipped mouth and said, "Get my fingers wet, nigger."

"Get fucked. That wasn't part of the deal."

Arrogant motherfucker. So I swiveled my torso a little to the left and then backhanded the uppity nigger. Must've caught his nose, or maybe it's just delicate, because when I slapped him, sending his head back to his right, little spurts of blood sprayed out. The slaps were like whip cracks in the room, which became suddenly very, very still.

Keeping my eyes focused in his shock-glazed eyes, I raised my voice. "All's well, brethren. Go on with sharing God's love. The Lord has just asked me to teach this nigger to know his place, and I am simply encouraging him. After all, is it not written, 'spare the rod and spoil the nigger?'"

There was a ripple of nervous laughter, and then the sounds of sex, although a bit more subdued, resumed.

I stretched my fingers out again. "Get my fucking fingers wet, nigger, or do you want your precious baby dry-fucked?"

Christ, but the sight of those fat lips going down on my fingers, that thick nigger tongue slurping all over them, was almost as much a turn-on as the image in my head of me fucking that mouth pussy.

Then I got a better idea. I sat down next to the town's new nigger, put his son on my lap so he was facing out toward the room and then lifted his legs and scooted him down. Awkward, but his virgin boy cunt was nicely on display.

I turned to Whitman. "Get on your knees on the floor, nigger."

I'm not sure whether it was my glare, or the click when John cocked the .45 that got him to move. Probably a little of both.

"Now, listen up, nigger. There's a new deal in town, and here it is. First, when you're with the church you'll keep your head down and your eyes down in front of your betters...which means every damn white in this group. You don't look anyone in the eye unless you're given permission. Second, we'll let you keep your dignity while you're in public, at work, that kind of thing, but if you're in private with any of us, and that means man, woman or child, you goddamn well better show all the humility of a good nigger. Third, your body doesn't belong to you any more. It belongs to us, although your kids now belong to me. Which naturally means if one of us wants to use you, to see what kind of pleasure, if any, we can get out of a nigger, you don't say anything, you just do as you're told. And you'd better fucking do it well, because if you don't you'll be punished. Severely. I haven't whipped anyone for a while, but I'm sure the right techniques will come back if I need them. There'll be more, but for now, start eating out your boy's cunt. Unless Richard Cory has come to be of interest?"

Well, well, well. John wasn't all redneck farm trash. He could understand subtlety. Like gently resting the paper sack on Whitman's shoulder and lightly rubbing his skin before lifting it away. The nigger's shoulders slumped and he leaned forward, rested his big hands on his boy's thighs to help keep them up and apart, and began licking his little's one tight little hole.

Christ. I thought seeing a man eating a little girl's pussy was hot. I didn't know what hot meant, not until I saw this nigger daddy down on his knees licking and slurping and, fuck yeah, tongue fucking his baby boy slut's ass pussy. I put my hand on his shaved head to stop his ass eating. Decided I didn't like the feel. Niggers should have thick nappy hair so it's easier to drag them around by it, or maybe hurt them with it. I patted him like I would have my dog, and told him to stop shaving his head. When he was silent, I asked him what he thought a nigger should say when a white man gives him an order.

His teeth were practically grinding, but he said, "Yes, sir."

I laughed, leaned over and spat in his face. Told him he could do better than that; told him he'd better do better than that. Spat on his other cheek. Watched the spit run down as his eyes raged, watched as he worked it out, watched the volcano of fury erupt but only inside his head. Watched as he struggled, accepted.

"Yes, massa."

I dog-patted him on the head again. "That's a good start, nigger. By the time the white men in this town are done with you, you'll even believe it."

I shifted his little boy so his butt was on my belly and my thick meat was standing tall between his spread legs. Whitman looked at my leaking dick. Knew what was coming...in more ways than one.

"Ever sucked cock, nigger?"

I don't think he expected to be asked. I think he was just expecting to be told to suck my dick. So he wasn't prepared and a flicker of expression showed what the truth was, no matter what was about to come out of his mouth. Well, fucking well.

"Don't lie to me, nigger. Your face just gave you away. Tell me about the dick you sucked."

Anger and resignation now in his eyes. "My math tutor in college."

He looked up at me and knew that wasn't going to be enough. "I...I was eighteen. Second semester in college. Failing math and knew if I failed the foundation wouldn't pay my tuition and I'd have to drop out. I asked the senior in charge of our dorm floor for help in finding someone. He was a math major, and he told me he'd do it. I told him I couldn't pay much but he just said we'd work something out. He told me that with his own classes, and homework, and dorm responsibilities and after school activities the only time he'd have would be around ten at night, and I was to come to his room then.

"I went to his room that night with my books and homework. He...he was brilliant. We worked an hour, more, it was closer to midnight when we stopped. He...well, he just made everything make sense, the way the teacher never did. It wasn't like I suddenly understood everything, it was more like I knew that I could understand it. I was babbling my gratitude, my pleasure over finally understanding some of it when he interrupted and told me it was time to settle up.

"I stopped talking as reality set in. I nervously asked him how much. He didn't answer me at first. He just asked me if I thought he could help me, by working with him until he graduated. If I thought I could find anyone any better. I babbled again, telling him how grateful I was, how I was sure there wasn't anyone who could help me better than he could. That's when he told me he knew how strapped for cash I was, how tight my budget had to be, so instead of asking for money, he'd just ask me to help him out every so often. And as long as I agreed to help him, he'd tutor me. I didn't look before I leaped and agreed.

"He just gave me this odd smile and asked I'd help him out right then. I smiled, Christ, a big happy damned fucking asshole naïve smile and said, 'Sure.'

"We were sitting on his couch and he put his big hand on the back of my neck, put a little pressure on it, and said, 'Well, nigger, what I need help with is my hardon. Why don't you just wrap those fat nigger lips around it and suck me off?'"

He paused.

"First time you were ever told what you were?" A glare and a nod. Fuck this was fun. Then I asked him more questions. Found out that the senior was white. At 5-8, about eight inches shorter (height) than Whitman. Whitman outweighed him by at least forty pounds. And the white boy's dick was probably only six or seven inches long. Asked him how long his nigger-dick was when he was stiff. Damn. Ten inches.

"So let me get this straight, nigger. You were bigger than this white geek in every fucking way, you could have beat the shit out of him, reported him to the school, walked the fuck out and found someone else to tutor you, but instead you did what you were told just like a good house nigger and sucked his white cock, didn't you?"

Damn nigger was slowly getting used to reading my mind, because this time he knew a nod wasn't going to cut it. Killed the fucker to say it, but he did. "Yes, massa."

"Tell me why, nigger cocksucker. Sudden craving for white man's cum?"

His answer showed me he was still not broken yet. But even though I'd never broken a nigger before, showed him his real place in life, I had no doubt I'd succeed.

"I had no fucking money, dammit! And he'd done such a good job in just that one session I knew I wasn't going to find anyone any better and even if I did there'd be no way to pay. So, yes, I sucked whitey's dick!"

"How often?"

"Every fucking day through the end of the semester. And at his graduation. In the toilet before they lined up to go on stage for their diplomas."

"He ever fuck your nigger ass?"

"No."

Odd tone of voice. "Why not?"

"He...he asked me once if I'd give up my ass, just like I had my mouth, to keep him tutoring me. I...said yes. He just laughed at me and told me had better places to put his dick than a nigger boy's cunt, and I should be grateful I was even being allowed to suck his white dick."

I laughed. Poor nigger teen had his darkie feelings hurt because his boy cunt wasn't good enough for white dick. I wasn't sure how grateful he was going to be, though, when it really hit home that I had no objection to fucking his nigger cunt and fucking it long and hard. And neither did the other white men who were standing around us now, all shapes and sizes of dicks nice and hard while they were being slowly jacked. Yes, these good ol' boys knew what was coming down the pike and they were planning on enjoying it.

I dog-patted his darkie scalp again. "Well, nigger, let's see if you remember all your darkie cocksucking skills. And I think you might want to get my dick nice and wet because that's the only lube your baby boy's cunt is going to get."

Reluctantly, he bent his head down and started working my meat. Fuck, yeah, he remembered his sucking. I made him keep his eyes open, too, since they were only inches away from where I was stroking his three-year-old boy's hard little nigger pricklet, and playing with the boy's tight little cunt. But I didn't want my dick too wet, and Whitman was suddenly trying to get me off, like that would somehow save his kid's pussy. Dumb fuck nigger.

I shoved his head away, and lifted the nigger kid into position. I made Whitman line my dick up with his little boy's hole and then instructed him to tell the boy just what was going to happen and how he'd given his little boy away. Shame and rage flared in his eyes, but the rustle of the paper bag made him bow his head.

I made him look right at his little son when he started. "Marcus, you know daddy loves you, right?"

"Uh-huh."

"And how daddy would only do what's best for you?"

"Uh-huh."

I don't think the kiddy cunt really understood that, but daddy's voice sounded soothing and friendly so he just agreed.

"And you're a big boy now, right?"

The little nigger nodded his head. "I'm fwee!" he said proudly.

"Old enough to be fucked, aren't you?" I asked, and squeezed his little dickie...which made him squeal with both surprise and pain.

Whitman looked up at me, his eyes anguished. "Please. I'll do anything you say, just...just please don't do this to my boy. Christ, he just turned three yesterday. He's a baby!"

"Whitman, you are such a dumb nigger fuck. Jesus, how the hell you got to where you could own a bank is amazing if that's your idea of negotiating. Offering me what I already have as an incentive to get what you want. You're going to do what I tell you anyway. Now tell him! And tell him right, or you're on your way home."

He bowed his head. Inhaled deeply. Looked up at the puzzled, wary, loving face of his precious boy. And then betrayed him, just like the good nigger he was learning to be.

"Marcus, daddy just gave you away. To this white man, so...so...so he can teach you to be a good little nigger."

"Daddy! You said a bad!" the boy interrupted.

"No, son, it's not a bad word. Not any more. That's what you are. You're just a nigger slut boy, baby trash, and you're really lucky that this white man wants to own a useless little boy like you. You...you're...l...lucky he wants to stick his dick in your boy cunt. Not many nigger boys are as lucky as you."

The kid still didn't understand. Not the sensations in his body, not what his daddy was really saying. But he caught the tone and knew something was very, very wrong.

What a very, very perceptive nigger cum whore. Or about-to-be nigger cum whore. And there was a way to make this even better. "Lick the nigger slut's pussy and my dick just a little more, Whitman, and then put your hands on the boy's waist."

He was absolutely horrified, but the paper bag hint wasn't even necessary. He did as he was told. I glanced briefly at the larger group of men and boys who were now watching. Just like for round one. They, too, were looking horrified. And fascinated. An accident in progress that you should look away from but can't...won't. Not a soft dick in sight.

"Now tell him what's going to happen and then get my dick head inside his cunt."

The nigger was actually crying. "S...son, your owner is going to f...fuck you. And daddy's going to help him get his big white dick in your little boy cunt. And...and...and it's going to hurt, baby, real bad, but...but you're just darkie trash so it doesn't matter." And then he pulled his baby boy down. It must have seemed like an impossibility, my oozing dick was so huge against his boy hole, and the boy was watching his daddy's face, seeming oblivious of what was going on down around his pussy. Using my left hand to keep my cock positioned, Whitman tried again, this time sharply, and my dick head punched inside that darkie's baby boy hole. Christ the heat, the tightness like a damn rubber band just below my knob.

The kid's soprano scream as the razor sharp pain sliced through his baby cunt was shrill and loud and seemed like it was going on forever. The boy was desperately thrashing around, trying to get that fat invader out of his boy-cunt, but his father's hands on his waist, and my arm across his chest kept that from happening. He was crying and babbling and begging his daddy to stop the hurt. And nearly collapsed when Whitman pulled again and another inch or two went into the baby cunt.

The kid was wailing more like a siren now, and with a loudly moaned, "Oh Christ oh shit oh fuck, not now!" the slender teen next to us who obviously didn't want to cum just then began spurting huge loads of hot cum onto the baby nigger's face and chest and little dickie. We were all enjoying his cum and the sight and (for me) the feel of thick white dick a little ways inside of barely-three-year-old nigger boy pussy, when we were rudely interrupted.

By a naked nigger bitch who screamed "my baby!" and tried to lunge past the men to get to her son.

She got stopped cold. Partially it was the men who grabbed her. Mostly it was Farmer John who decided fuck it with the paper bag, flicked it off, raised his arm, pointed the .45 at her and told her, "Back off, nigger!"

From the expression on her face, the word was almost as much of a shock as the gun. Guess the nigga ho hadn't ever been told what she was before.

"But that's my baby. He's raping my baby!"

I just smiled at her, and began slowly lifting the boy like I was giving up, like I was going to remove him gently from my meat. I let her start to relax, start to believe, and then shoved the nigger boy down. Hard. A third of my dick went into his cunt. A little bit easier, but only a little. I don't know whether the slickness was boy juices or blood or both. I didn't care, either. Little fucker screamed even louder, only this time he'd figured out that he'd better try to get help from his mommy.

Who, very wisely, wasn't moving at all, though the men still had her arms. Christ, the bitch was a mess. Not a large nigger, but on the plump side, with big tits. Wide nigger nose, fat nigger lips. Shoulder length hair plastered to her skull. She wasn't all that close, but I could smell the piss, see it on her body. A huge fucking bush as wet as the rest of her. It also looked like some cum in her pussy hairs. She sure the fuck had been having a good time.

"You didn't object to me fucking this man's grandson a little while ago, did you?"

"I didn't know, but...but...that's my baby."

"Shit, bitch, you brought his nigger ass here, didn't you?"

"But you have to bring a child!" She was almost wailing herself.

Fuck. Two stupid cunts. Only this nigger ho was even more stupid than the last one. Because she wasn't giving up the kiddy cunt the way she was supposed to. Agreeing his kid holes were there to be used. Instead, she kept on arguing.

"Please. I'll do anything. Just stop. Don't hurt him any more. No one's ever...."

Same brilliant negotiator as her husband. "Yeah, I know, whore, no one's ever. That's what makes it so great. Busting the cherry of a little nigger boy; showing him what Jesus' true love really fucking means." And with that I pushed another two inches of my dick into his boy-hole. Now baby boy had two parents who'd betrayed him. Neither one was doing anything to stop the horrible pain in his no longer virgin bottom. His daddy was even helping to cause the pain. And kid-cunt here sure as fuck didn't understand that what was keeping them from helping was a big gun.

"Nigger daddy, how much left before my dick is all the way up your son's cunt?"

It was kind of odd, the way she'd been focusing on me, like she didn't see or had blocked out who was kneeling on the floor, who was clearly helping with the rape of her son. That's why I was looking right at her when I asked the question. I guess you'd have to call the sound that came out of her a screech. An outraged screech. And then gun or no gun she launched herself at her kneeling husband, screaming, "Nigger! Get yo mothafuckin' hands off my baby!"

One of the men had relaxed his grip so she got partway loose, but the other man still held her tight and managed to hold onto her long enough she didn't get more than a step before the free arm was grabbed again. Hell, even his wife recognized Whitman was just a nigger.

"I want to be in his pussy all the way. Now, nigger!"

Well, hell's bells. There were tears in his eyes. And unlike the president, rage in his heart. He still did what he was told and with only a little help from me pulled his struggling, screaming, fighting nigger cunt boy down until my pubes got wet with all the fluids leaking from his little, well, no long quite so little, bottom hole. Then the kid passed out.

No problem. I'm a decent man. I let him get a little rest while I told his daddy to get up, move back a step from my wide-spread legs, and gave him the order to get his dick hard, and to jack off his nigger dick while he watched his little boy get fucked by a white man. Still fighting me, inside his head. Still not wanting to give him. Still recognizing he had no choice. He started stroking his limp meat.

I have pretty damned good upper body strength, so it wasn't a problem to haul the kiddy cunt up, and then slide it back down. On the third stroke up little Marcus started coming around. On the fourth, he was whimpering. On the fifth, crying. On the sixth, yelling out the pain in his pussy. On the seventh I shoved him down hard, burying my dick in his cunt. I cut off the scream with a hand clamped tightly around the lower half of his face.

I glanced across and Whitman's dick was hard. I looked up at his face. A little piece of his soul had broken off, vanished. He was beating himself up inside, because he'd gotten a hardon watching his baby boy get rough-fucked. The brutally fucked part hadn't started yet. I sat up a bit so I could hold nigger cunt boy's head in a position to look right at his daddy's hard dick. Then I began talking to him, gently, quietly, but not so quietly that everyone around us couldn't hear.

"Look at your daddy's pee-pee, nigger baby. See how long and hard it is? That's really a nigger dick and it only gets like that, all hard and leaking, when a nigger daddy is really, really happy. And what makes every nigger daddy happy is watching his baby boy get his cunt fucked by a white man's dick. Even if it hurts his little boy. Especially if it hurts his little boy. Nigger daddies like yours really like to see their little boys hurting with white cock in their tiny, tight boy butts. Because daddies like yours know that all their nigger babies are good for is to be used by white dicks. So you pay attention real close while I rape your little boy cunt. Watch your daddy move his big old nigger hands on his big old daddy nigger dick. And in a little while you'll see all this thick, hot white stuff shoot out of it. That's the way nigger daddies show everyone how happy they are they gave away their nigger baby boy to a white man. So then you'll know how glad your daddy is that you don't belong to him any more. Isn't that right, nigger?"

Another little piece dropped away from Whitman's soul when I asked. His moaned "oh, Christ" was soft and oddly prayerful given the fuck-a-kid-for-Christ group he was in. "Yes, massa. I be jackin' mah nigga dick here, watchin' you rape mah nigga baby's boy cunt, 'cept he ain't mah baby no more, 'cause ah gave his nigga ass away. Happy to do it, too. Gonna cum great watchin' his new massa rape his darkie pussy."

Another, bigger chunk of his soul broke away as his eyes fixed on the joining of my cock and his former baby boy's cunt. And as he started jacking in earnest. Silently admitting in his shame that he didn't have to fantasize about something else to get hard and stay hard. He was stiff because he was fucking turned on.

So was I.

I started raping the toddler nigger cunt in earnest.

The position was awkward as fuck; it'd have been a hell of a lot better on the floor with pussy boy on his knees or his belly, but part of the fucking turn-on was all the church members watching me, sprawled in the chair, my ass barely on the edge, raising and lowering my hips as I thrust my cock into his raw, gaping nigger kiddy cunt.

I paused, panting, my dick buried in his hole, and made Whitman move to my right, still on his knees, slightly angled toward me so he could still see his son's bruised hole getting raped by long thick white cock, but also so the rest of the watchers could watch Whitman watching the rape and doing nothing about it. The contempt for this nigger was almost tangible it was so thick. I decided to ramp it up.

"Turns you the fuck on, doesn't it, nigger, watching me rape your boy, hearing him scream?"

The "yes, massa" was agonized but immediate. And he didn't stop stroking.

"Talk us into cumming, nigger. And make it good."

Picture an iceberg in warm waters, starting to break up; heat pounding down on the top until an enormous crack appears and a giant chunk breaks off, dropping into the sea with a large splash. And then another. And another.

That was Whitman, losing his arrogance, losing his certainty, losing his self.

"Marcus. Marcus, son. Look at daddy."

It was kind of hard with the way the kid was flopping around from the brutal fucking his cunt was getting. Farmer John and the teen figured out a way to help. They knelt down, held the kid tight so he couldn't flop and proceeded to lift him up and down on my meat. All I had to do was enjoy the rape, torture his boy tits, and hold his little head so he was looking at his daddy.

"Do you see daddy's dick, Marcus?"

"Y...yes."

"Do you know why it's hard like this?"

"N...no."

"Sure you do, son. Remember, I...I told you before. So tell everyone why your daddy's cock is so hard."

"Cuz...cuz of me."

"Good, baby, good. See how daddy's leaking all these juices? That means daddy's really happy."

I pinched the kid's tit...hard...and his squeal caused a spurt of pre-cum out of Whitman's cock.

"Now, baby, tell everyone what you are."

The boy's voice was hoarse from all his screaming and crying, but in a little while someone would soothe his throat with hot, thick splooge, and maybe even some piss. "Please, daddy, no, that's bad."

"No, baby, it's not. It's what you are. Admit it, Marcus, say it."

"I...I...I'm a nigger."

"That's right, son. Now be a good nigger boy, and tell massa you're a nigger cum slut."

Tears were streaming down the boy's face as he told me, haltingly, that he was a nigger cum slut.

Not quite accurate. Not yet. But soon. Very fucking soon.

Whitman's voice was hoarse, too, as he went on talking. Spaced out somewhere as he flicked his eyes back and forth between where my cock was working his toddler son's raw pussy and the nigger cum slut's face. "Daddy was right to give you away. You weren't any good to daddy or mommy. Garbage we should have thrown out, along with your sister and baby brother. But now you're where you belong. With yo massa. With white meat fuckin' up yo baby boy cunt. You're hurtin', nigger boy. 'n Christ that makes daddy hard. Watchin' massa's big ole dick punchin' yo baby pussy. Gonna make yo daddy cum, nigga. Gonna make yo daddy shoot hot white juices outa his nigger dick, 'n when that happens baby nigger that means yo daddy is as happy as any nigger daddy could ever get. Tell yo massa, baby nigger. Tell him to hurt yo pussy. Tell him to fuck yo pussy hard."

"Daddy, mommy, no, please, please, it hurts, it hurts make it stop hurting!"

"Daddy's jerking his nigger dick faster, baby boy, 'cause you hurtin'. He's gettin' close to cummin' watchin' yo massa fuck yo cunt harder 'n harder. Tell him, nigga boy. Tell yo massa t'rape yo baby nigga cunt hard. Tell him, goddammit!"

And with tears streaming down his face, and with my cock pounding harder than ever, my baby nigger boy screamed out a plea for me to rape his baby nigger cunt hard. And kept on screaming it as I obliged, ramming my meat again and again until finally I buried it and filled him with cum. Right before Whitman started cumming. I cum a lot, but I don't think I've ever seen that much cum from a man before. A horse, yes, but never a man. Never a sobbing, cumming, nigger man.

A couple of the men in our audience couldn't hold back and began cumming too.

When we all got our breath back a little I yanked my nigger boy off my meat, making him whimper since I'd been buried fuck all deep and I was still hard. Farmer John picked him up and held him. Murmured soothing sounds and caressed his soft nigger flesh. Let the teen boy do so as well. Poor baby nigger. He still hadn't quite learned the lesson of betrayal. His daddy had just given him away and loudly rejoiced in his being raped; his mommy hadn't helped him, and still he trusted, still he believed that these two white males being gentle with him actually cared. But I could tell from the facial expressions the boy couldn't see, hell, everyone could tell, that in a moment or two the little nigger was going to get fucked for Christ, probably both ends at once.

I was right. I like to be right.

I thought for a second about what would be right for Whitman. Asked, loudly, if Whitman had recently turned down anyone for a loan. A couple of nods, and well, fuck, even a raised hand. What, we were in kindergarten again? Well, okay, being naked in a room of naked kindergarten boys and girls would be enjoyable. But that was for later. I nodded at the guy who'd raised his hand, my expression telling him to speak up.

He told us how his car had broken down; he couldn't afford to repair it; couldn't afford to replace it, and all he needed was a loan to get it fixed, so he wouldn't have to keep asking his neighbors for help getting to and from work. Whitman had told him he didn't have enough collateral for the bank to risk loaning him anything. And yet his family had been in the county for generations; he was trustworthy; he'd repay the loan.

Tom wasn't anything special to look at. Pale, pudgy, balding. Wire-framed glasses. Kind of big tits for a man, white thick whorls of hair around them. More hair in the center of his chest. A vague treasure trail down over his beer belly and down to thick pubes. His dick had gone soft as he was venting his grievance and not much showed.

"Tom," I asked, "you ever fucked a man?"

He looked almost offended as he said "no." At a church pedo orgy where he'd undoubtedly been fucking and sucking with little boys and girls and he was offended at the hint of adult homosexual sex. Jesus.

"Well, I guess someone else'll do the honors, then."

"Honors?"

"Yeah. I've got a nigger man here...he's got a virgin nigger man pussy. I thought you might like a little payback, be the first to fuck his asshole and turn it into a nigger cunt. But if...."

"No. I'll do it."

I grinned at him. "Kind of thought you might."

His grin back was a little sheepish, but there was no denying he had a hardon with only a few strokes. Not much there. Five inches, six on a good day...although today, of course, was a very good day...slender, with a nice mushroom cap knob end.

"Nigger, down on all fours. This white man is going to do you the honor of relieving you of your anal virginity, and giving you a nigger cunt for all seasons. And for all white men who want to use it."

Damn but that image was worth jacking to, and I might later if I ever had a moment where I was horny and didn't have an available nigger or kid hole. Whitman was big-dicked, big boned, built. If he and Tom stood side by side it'd be obvious Whitman could pound the older, kind of wimpy, man into the dust with very little effort. Yet it was small-bodied, small-dicked Tom who was eagerly fucking his first nigger a few seconds later. And becoming very proficient in degrading Whitman verbally. Several of the men were standing close to the fucking, playing with their dicks, but not really jacking. Waiting their turn for nigger man-cunt.

Verbally. Verbally.

Oh, Christ, what a fucking idea.

"Nigger, what's your full name?"

Jack, the football player who'd been fucking my little girl earlier had to pull his cock out of Whitman's throat so the nigger could answer. "George Washington Whitman."

"Not a good name for a nigger. Washington was the father of our country, not the father of nigger-land off in Africa. And Whitman sounds too fucking much like 'white man.' Are there any lawyers here?"

A woman who had obviously been waiting her turn to get her pussy eaten by Mrs. Whitman, whose face was currently being forcibly pressed between the fat thighs of a very large woman, turned her head toward me and said she was.

"How difficult would it be to get Whitman's name changed? The whole family?"

She laughed. "Does your little one fuck as well as she eats pussies?"

I smiled back. "I really can't compare the two, but she's an incredible fuck."

"Good. I can do the paper work, and if you let daddy have her for a day or two, it'll be no problem." I looked a question and she chuckled. "Daddy's the judge. But I should warn you, he can be a bit rough."

"No problem. I'll let him know he's free to use Lina however he likes as long as there's no permanent damage. In fact, if he and his friends would enjoy it, she hasn't been gang fucked in a while."

She nodded. "Daddy will definitely like that. So what names are you going to give the niggers?"

I looked over at my nigger. Another man was warming up his mouth while Jack was pounding his ass. Another couple of men cumming in his nigger cunt and he'd be ready for Pastor Rob. Not too far away the nigger boy was getting both ends fucked by two young teens, and holy shit, a little girl was standing by with a strap-on dildo over her hairless pussy. I thought for a moment, stroking a little. "Nigger, I think it'd be a good idea for you to see this lawyer on Monday. It's too bad we can't just make your last name nigger, but there it is. So I want you to tell her you want to change your name to Jermaine Blackman."

"Yes, massa."

"What's your little girl's name?"

"Amelia Jane."

"Definitely too white. You niggers like weird-ass names. Let's call her Uneeka Jamaliya." I spelled it for him.

"Cunt boy's full name?"

"Marcus James."

"Calling a nigger after a Roman emperor is a waste of a perfectly good name. I think Klevon would be good for him. He'll have no need for a middle name."

The two boys had their dry cums in Klevon, who only whimpered when the little girl shoved the dildo in his pussy and began fucking him.

"What about the other one?" the lawyer asked.

"Other one?" I held up a hand when she started to answer. Something...something...then I had it. When he'd been talking us into cumming. He'd mentioned Klevon's sister and well, fucking well, Klevon's baby nigger brother. Hot mother-fucking damn!

"How old is he and what's his name, nigger?"

"William Robert. He...he's going to be a-year-old in three weeks."

If he'd been able to, he'd have turned white when he saw my expression. And I had no reason to hide what I was thinking. He was, after all, just a nigger. "So where are nigger girl Uneeka and nigger baby Darnell tonight?"

"At...." he moistened his fat lips with his big tongue, though would all the pre-cum he'd been getting he shouldn't have needed it. "At the sitter's."

"Why aren't they here?"

"Ame...Uneeka has a cold. And...Darnell is too little."

I gave him a verbal pat on the head. "But that was what you thought earlier, wasn't it? Before you realized you were a nigger? That your children were niggers?"

"Y...yes, massa."

"So what do you think about Darnell's age now?"

"Ju...just right, massa."

"For what, nigger?"

"For...for...for massa to fuck."

"And would you like to watch and jack off while I pedo fuck your tiny baby's hole for the very first time? Knowing it won't be his last?"

There was very, very little of that iceberg left by the time he said "yes, massa."

I took a few steps and patted my nigger's head. It's always good to give praise when something you own does something right.

Praise the Lord, indeed. Two huge cums already, and my dick and balls were still eager to go for another hot, big load.

I looked around for the grandfather from earlier. He was seated and sucking the dicks of two teen boys, maybe fourteen or so. I couldn't just yell "hey, you" so I asked the lawyer for his name. "Hey, Bill."

He signaled with a just-a-minute finger while one of the boys began cumming in his mouth. When the boy was done, Bill smacked his lips, smiled up at him, swallowed, looked at me. "The nigger here has decided it's past time that his youngest boy should be sharing the holy love of Christ and His church. I'm a stranger here, so how about putting on some clothes and going to get little nigger Darnell? Oh...that's the nigger's new name, once we get the legal shit done. Darnell Blackman."

Bill smiled appreciatively.

"And on the way here you could help out, if you want, Bill. Finger his baby-cunt, get him a little loosened up. But just one finger. And when I've finished with his cunt, I'm sure the nigger here would love to have you share Christ's love with nigger Darnell. Wouldn't you, nigger?"

"Yes, massa."

Bill stood up, his grey pubes matted, his dick hard and oozing. "I won't need many clothes. Their baby sitter is my great-niece Jane, who is royally pissed at having to babysit instead of screwing here, although I know good and well that cold or no cold, the two girls have been sexing each other since Jane got there." He laughed. "Welcome to town...."

"Glen."

"Welcome, Glen, to town...and to our church."

I said the words I never thought I'd say about a church welcome. "Thank you."

"Back in a few."

Another man was just finishing an apparently rough-fuck cum in Jermaine's cunt. I asked how many men had fucked his pussy, and he said four. That would do. I gave him his instructions and walked with him as he crawled on his hands and knees looking for Pastor Rob. We found his wife sucking on a little boy's dick. She stopped long enough to tell us he was in his office with the mayor's son.

As we walked (well, one of us crawled) in, I decided this was really my day for saying well, fucking well. There was a skylight in his office. Rectangular. With a sturdy hook at each corner. I later learned that during "regular" times plants were suspended from the thick chains connected to the hook. But during special prayer meetings they were replaced with a leather sling. That's where Pastor Rob was. Legs in the air...and a plump little boy's fist in his ass. Well, fist and most of the boy's forearm as well.

Pastor Rob was prayerfully thanking Jesus as the boy's fist and arm worked in and out. The preacher's cock-ringed dick, dark red and prominent, was leaking pre-cum steadily. The kid might have brought him off, but the preacher opened his eyes, saw me, looked down and saw the nigger on the floor, and told the kid to stop.

From the gleam in his eyes, Pastor Rob clearly remembered our conversation. But just like no battle plan survives first contact with the enemy, the plan would have to be revised. First, however, some information. "Pastor, I'd like you to meet your new church nigger, Jermaine Blackman. He's decided to begin his new life in the Lord by changing his name to fit his true status before the Lord. And the names of his children as well. Uneeka, Klevon and baby Darnell. The baby will be here shortly."

That brightened his eyes even more. His expression asked, "You going to fuck the nigger baby like you fucked the one earlier?"

My expression answered "yes."

His expression replied, "Praise the Lord and pass the baby nigger."

"What about his ho?"

"That's right. Nigger! What's her name again?"

"Angela."

"Much too white a name for a nigger bitch, don't you think, Pastor? Any ideas?"

"Yes, I think so. Nigger, does your ho clean the house, do the laundry, things like that?"

"No, suh."

"You've hired someone to do it. Nancy Green, I think."

"Yassuh."

"Glen, do you remember that nigger maid on the TV show about the nigger cleaner and his wife and their white friend with the nigger wife? Florence?"

I grinned and nodded. "Just the right name, Pastor."

"And of course the church does need someone to clean at least once a week. So that would make her name even more accurate, wouldn't it, nigger?"

"Yassuh."

"Good, then. Now stand up, nigger, and tell me how many white men have been nice enough to use your pussy today."

"Four...uh...massa."

"Their cum still in your pussy?"

"Yassuh."

"Good, good. Now stand up and get your nigger dick hard. Bobby, honey, pull your hand out of my hole so the nigger can get close and fuck me."

Bobby wasn't happy, but like the obviously well-trained pedo fuck-toy he was, he did what he was told. Jermaine moved into his place, straddling the square step stool the boy had been standing on. His dick was hard.

"Damn, Glen, but that's one impressive piece of darkie meat, isn't it?" He looked back to Jermaine. "Well, don't just stand there like the ignorant nigger you are, get that cock in my ass."

Pastor Rob praised the Lord, Jesus and the Heavenly Host when the nigger rammed his dick into the preacher's ass, hard and fast. I guess he thought he was getting some payback, just a little.

"Holy Christ, Glen, you ought to try this." He began to pant a little as Jermaine kept up a steady hard fuck. I was about to decline the offer, even though it had been years since I'd been fucked and a little part of me was curious about how it would feel to have that much dick...nigger dick...inside me. Brilliant Pastor Rob changed my mind.

"You do know, nigger, that it isn't right for a nigger buck to be fucking his white master."

"Yes, massa, I be knowin' that."

"It's just, well, downright wrong, isn't it?"

"Yassuh."

"Against the natural order."

"Yassuh."

"And niggers who don't do right need to be punished, don't they, nigger?"

Brilliant, Pastor, brilliant. And Jermaine was a smart nigger, too. From the hesitant "yassuh" he gave, he also saw where this was going.

"Bobby, why don't you get a punishment for our new nigger out of the cupboard? You can pick one."

What the fuck? We all turned our heads, and the nigger slowed his fucking a little, as we watched Bobby walk across the room to the cupboard, open it carefully with his left hand holding a paper towel since his right hand and forearm were shiny with Crisco, and pull out a fucking cane. Jesus fucking Christ. The nigger was going to get caned by the church pastor, just like something out of a CP story about British boys' schools.

"Now, nigger, just go ahead and turn this white man's asshole into a cunt while you fuck it hard and cum."

I interrupted to ask the nigger whether he could cum twice in a row. Because it definitely wouldn't be right if Pastor Rob told him to cum in his white preacher cunt, and he did, and then I told him to cum while watching me fuck baby nigger Darnell, and he couldn't. He'd probably have to be punished even more.

Was there a voice in his head saying, "no way out, no way out"? I twisted the knife a little more. "You already have to be severely punished, nigger. Poor Pastor Rob here, all laid out nice and innocent, naked, open, legs up, lubed hole, and here you are, nigger, raping a white man."

His muscles tensed and I knew he wanted to shout out that he had been fucking ordered to fuck the pastor. But he was a nigger now, or rather, he'd always been a nigger, he just knew it now. He was well and truly fucked. He knew he'd have been caned if he had refused the fuck order. But since it was just plain wrong for a nigger to fuck a white man, he was going to get punished for fucking the preacher. And I suspect he instinctively knew that if it wasn't a good fuck, he'd be punished for that, too.

He finally answered the question after several deep, fast strokes in and out of Pastor Rob's hole. "Yes, massa, I be cummin' twice iffen thas what yo say."

"Good."

I looked over my shoulder. It was Bill speaking. An again naked and hard Bill carrying a tiny naked baby nigger boy. A naked baby nigger with two white fingers halfway up his cunt.

"Great. You're back. C'mon around and let the nigger watch his baby Darnell get finger-fucked while his daddy rapes the poor preacher here."

Which is just what happened. Except for the pastor adding some verbal torture. Telling the nigger how blessed he was to have children who could share Christ's love. How fortunate he was to have joined a church that would urge him, no, insist that he breed his nigger bitch again and again to make a joyful nigger (or three or twelve) for the Lord. How sorry the preacher was that Jermaine was such a dumb nigger that it was inevitable that despite being punished for raping a white man, a man of God in God's own house, the nigger was undoubtedly going to repeat the offense over and over. And be punished over and over.

"Go ahead, nigger," the pastor half whispered, half spoke. "Some payback for whitey for being a nigger, for having to take all this because you're nothing but lowly trash, a useless nigger cunt whore with a pussy full of white men's cum. Fuck me, nigger, fuck me hard, and inside you're wishing it was Glen here whose ass you were raping, paying him back for what he's done to you and your family today. For what he's going to do to your tiny baby in a few minutes. For what he's going to let the rest of us do to your baby after that. Fuck me, nigger! Cum in my fucking ass!"

Jermaine did. A few more vicious strokes and then he was shuddering his cum in the pastor's cunt. Oh, yes, Pastor Rob had certainly changed my mind. Tomorrow after church, preferably bent over the alter, with my suit pants down at my ankles, Jermaine was going to rape my white ass, turn my asshole back into the pussy it was when I was little. And then the pastor and I could each cane him and then take turns raping his nigger cunt, his welted, bleeding ass providing us with comforting warmth each time we jabbed in.

I told the nigger to get his raping dick out of the pastor's white ass, and then help Pastor Rob out of the sling. Pastor Rob wobbled a little, grabbed onto one chain to prevent himself from dropping to his knees. That had been a damned rough fuck/rape.

I took the baby from Bill, and went back to the main room. Things had slowed down quite a bit, but interest definitely perked up again when our procession started into the room. The murmurs died down when we stopped. This time everyone was watching as I asked the nigger if he had anything he felt he should confess to his brethren in Christ.

Like a proper nigger, he hung his head and said, "I be a sinner against the Lord, brethren. I done jes' raped Pastor Rob. Fucked him like he was a nigga pussy whore. 'n ah be thinkin' sinful thoughts, thoughts 'bout rapin' Massa Glen. I'se a bad nigga 'n ah needs t'be punished."

"Very good, nigger," I told him. "Now that you've confessed at least some of your sins, is there anything you want to ask me?"

Such a small part of the iceberg was left. A tiny piece. A tiny part of his independent soul that gibbered in the descending, nearly complete darkness inside him, that pleaded and begged me not to do this, that watched and listened in horror as he said, "Please, massa, fuck my little baby. Teach him to be a good nigga. Teach him to understand his only value is as a fuck toy. Please, massa, rape mah baby boy."

I did.

I had Bill lick and slurp and spit on the kid cunt, then got on my knees, sat back on my haunches and held the baby in place. I made the nigger kneel beside me, holding my dick steady while I pulled sharply back and impaled the kid on my knob end. As my new nigger fuck toy howled his fear and his hurt I looked at the nigger daddy's eyes. They were dead. Full darkness. Every bit of his humanity gone, just as every bit of that iceberg had melted. He was nothing now. Just pure nigger. Oh, I'd rebuild him so he could still function well in the outer world, but that would be an act. What was real was his recognition that he was a nigger, body and soul, owned by me, owned by our white brethren in the church. Just as his children were all niggers whose only value was the sex they could provide to their white brothers and sisters in Christ. Just as all the rest of the children he was going to breed for the church would be church niggers from the day they were born.

Without being told, he got on all fours, so Pastor Rob could mount him, sliding in easily on the cum still inside his cunt. Then he braced himself with his left arm, his palm flat on the floor, as he began jacking and watching baby nigger Darnell getting raped. Watching as I forced my dick further into the baby's tight little hole. Watching as I slid it back out slick with spit and pre-cum and blood. Begging me to let him clean my dick. Whimpering when I refused him. Moaning in pain and lust when I entered the kid again. Starting a chant as he was fucked, and jacked, a chant with eyes glazed over with lust, that started out as "fuck my baby" and went into "rape my baby" and then the ultimate recognition, "rape that nigger baby, massa." Over and over again he begged me to rape that nigger baby.

I did. Slowly at first, getting as deep as I could, then faster and faster, neither of us oblivious to the desperate howls and screams before the kid's voice gave out and he went into shock, no longer fighting, just hanging limp while his nigger boy pussy got thoroughly and viciously raped by a long thick white cock. He came long before I did, shooting a huge load of cum everywhere, his ass clamping tight apparently making the preacher lose it up his nigger cunt. And then he continued with his chant as another man mounted him. And another. All the while staring at how wide my cock was spreading the nigger boy's pussy as I plunged in and out and finally shouted out another fantastic pedo cum.

I pulled my dick out, handed the limp, but apparently still breathing, baby over to Bill, knee-walked over to the church nigger so he could gratefully clean my cock at last. When it was done, he whispered, "Thank you, massa."

"For what?"

"Fo' teachin' them nigga boys..." them nigger boys, not his black boys, or even his nigger boys "they place in the world. Fo' hurtin' 'em so they knows and they don't f'get."

I patted him on his bowed head. Relaxed all the way back. Looked around at the resumed orgy. At the boys and men lined up to fuck the church niggers...all of them.

I played with myself a little. Began to think that maybe four cums wasn't out of the question.

Fuck yes, I'm going to like this pedo church. Like the pastor says, praise the Lord and pass the baby boys!

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