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From: Danny Harris <dr_harris_81@hotmail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.gay.moderated
Subject: New story:  Max's Boys 03 (MM/t,t/b,oral,anal,incest,pedo)
Date: Sun, 25 Mar 2007 12:20:41 -0500
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===================

MAX'S BOYS 03
Maxie 01

by DannyR
  Copyright 2006-2007.  All rights reserved

Story Codes:  MM/t, MMM/b, oral, anal, incest, pedo

IMPORTANT ACKNOWLEDGMENT

This story series (slow in cumming though the parts may be) wouldn't exist 
without Damian Fitzroy, a Brit with a wicked sense of humor and an even more 
wicked mind.  There are more details about his inspiration for these stories 
in the introduction (Max's Boys 00) and Max's Boys 01.  So if you like what 
you read below, you really owe it to Damian.  But even more important is the 
fact that this story is almost pure <ahem!> Damian…not just the ideas, but 
the writing.  I tweaked it a bit and added a bit (mostly the Teamsters story 
that's told), but damn! Damian really does have a wicked mind.  Wank away!

Disclaimer:  Some folks apparently have trouble distinguishing between 
fantasy and reality.  This story is a fantasy.  It didn't happen.  Never 
will.  And anyone who attempts to do in real life all or any of the things 
depicted in the story needs to be hanged, then drawn and quartered, and then 
turned over to the local cops for the harshest penalties the law allows.  
Now that we're clear on what's what, and what's not, read on.


MAXIE

The party had already got going by the time I got down to the pool. The 
concealed speakers were pumping out Guns N' Roses' "Sympathy for the Devil," 
which I thought was kinda cute considering what happens at my Dad's parties.

I was wearing a tux made of black silk. No underwear, and I could feel my 
hardon stroking the smooth material of the tight pants. I looked down, 
giving myself a quick check. Oh, yeah, that was a real nice tenting at my 
crotch. I ran a finger down the crease of my ass, making sure the silk was 
hugging me tightly. When I want things to go a bit slower, I'm more subtle, 
but tonight I didn't want slow. Tonight I wanted to be grabbed, mauled, 
used. I wanted to be fucking raped. I get that way sometimes, where I need 
it hard and rough and demanding. Ram it home, James, and don't spare the 
whore's ass.

The indoor pool area is huge. One entire wall is made of panoramic windows 
which look out onto the grounds of the estate, though they were covered with 
blood-red velvet drapes tonight. A lot of the guests were a bit paranoid 
about telephoto lenses, despite all our security precautions. I guess I 
don't blame them. If I were a member of Congress, or a judge, or a big 
fucking macho movie star, or hell, just one of the ordinary guys Dad 
invites, like Hank, the bartender at that sleazy bar in New York, I wouldn't 
want to be snapped snorting cocaine or fucking preteen ass either.  Although 
I suspect it's the preteen fucking, especially the preteen boy fucking that 
really worries them.  They'd survive the drug stuff.

I heard laughter and splashing as I walked in. The pool was full of naked 
boys, all laughing and splashing each other, having a good time. I kept 
getting tantalising glimpses of baby ass and cock as they swam around, and I 
wasn't the only one. Half the men there were watching the show, perving on 
that delicious kiddie flesh, imagining what they'd be doing with those 
children's bodies when the party really started to heat up.  Not that a Max 
Harris private party wasn't hot from the moment you walked in and got your 
first view of naked little boys.

There was nobody my own age there. That's the one downside to these parties. 
I have more fuck-buddies than I can shake my dick at. I have an incestuous 
relationship with my father, grandfather, and little brothers. I have a 
whole staff of hot men to use me - and be used by me - on a regular basis. 
But I've never in my life had a boyfriend. I'd kinda like a chance to meet a 
boy my own age, for once.  Well, I've met boys my own age.  But no one I 
could....bring home to meet (and fuck) the family.

Oh, well. I mentally shrugged, looking around for someone I knew. A waiter 
saw me walk in and headed over, carrying a tray of champagne. He was a 
muscular honey blonde, great abs and huge pink nipples, dressed in nothing 
but a transparent G-string that left his big cock painfully constricted. A 
good eight inches, from the look of it, and thick too. The balls were hairy, 
and I could see he was a natural blonde.

"Champagne, sir?"

"Thanks." I took a glass, then on pure impulse poured the drink down the 
front of my pants. I smiled at him.

"Oh, how clumsy of me." I could feel the cool liquid flowing through the 
thin material and over my engorged cock, running down my legs.

He met my gaze. Beautiful eyes, sort of brown-flecked grey, and wide with 
lust. I could see his classic abs start to heave a little as his breathing 
speeded up, but his voice was perfectly composed and deferential.

"Don't worry, sir, I'll clean it up." He put his tray on the floor and 
dropped to his knees in front of me. His mouth pressed against the fabric of 
my pants, and his cheeks pulled in as he started to suck up the spilled 
champagne. I moaned loudly as his lips massaged my cockhead through the wet 
fabric. Throwing back my head, I rotated my hips, deliberately making a 
spectacle of myself, flaunting myself in front of everyone there.  Around 
the room, conversations stilled as the guests watched the oldest son of the 
host behave like a nympho whore touting for business. The waiter was 
slobbering all over me, making the front of my pants even wetter with his 
spit, and caressing my ass with his large hands.  I ran my fingers through 
his thick hair, pulling his face closer.

It would have been nice to go further, but the party was only just getting 
started. I  was only just getting started.  And waiter-stud here wasn't what 
I was looking for, what I needed.  Reluctantly, I slid my hands under his 
furry armpits and hauled him to his feet.

"Your name."

"Paul, sir. Your father hired me just a few days ago, while you were away in 
California."

"Easy to see why." I pulled the G-string off. They're designed to tear if 
you put pressure on just the right spot, and the two pieces of fabric 
fluttered to the floor as his big cock sprang free. I ran my thumb over the 
head,  picking up a patch of precum. I lifted the thumb to my mouth and 
lapped it up, staring into his eyes the whole time.  "Show me your cunt, 
Paul."

He bent over immediately and pulled his cheeks apart, revealing an inviting 
pink hole surrounded by more blonde fur. I stroked my fingertips across it. 
Oh, yeah, I was definitely going to get some of this as soon as possible. 
"You experienced using this, Paul?"

"Very experienced, sir."

"That's good to know." I reached down, picked up the champagne bottle and 
pointed it at his ass. A geyser of champagne shot out when I popped the 
cork, covering his cheeks and soaking his exposed hole. I didn't wait for 
the bottle to stop foaming before I slid it inside him.

"Stand up."

He stood, the bottle jutting obscenely out of his ass. I grinned at his 
naked back, and then, because I couldn't resist, bent over to lick up some 
champagne off his butt cheeks.

"Turn around."

He turned. I could see he was breathing heavily and looking at me like he 
wanted to rape me there and then. Good. Maybe I'd use him later on tonight.  
Or he could use me, if he could be rough enough.

"Carry on."

A flicker of disappointment crossed his face but he suppressed it. "Yes, 
sir."

I turned away, conscious of the eyes on me as I made my way across the room. 
The wet fabric was clinging tightly to the outline of my now-painful 
erection, making my walk a little uneven. I saw Senator Graham across the 
room.  He gave me his usual, subtle public smile that appeared from past 
experience to be mine alone.  The slight wave he knew I'd see was a subtle 
request to have me join him.  Dear Senator Graham.  Always subtle.  Until he 
wasn't.  I headed in his direction.

I've always liked Senator Cameron Graham. He reminds me a bit of George 
Clooney, with his close-cropped iron-gray hair, lean muscularity, cleft chin 
and deep, commanding voice. Plus, he has a thick, nine-inch dick and a 
classic butt, both of which he uses expertly. He first fucked me when I was 
seven; these days we often do a three way with my Dad, with Dad's cock 
ramming the senator's ass as he reams my boy cunt.  Like the rest of Dad's 
really close friends, the Senator is a first-class pedo, with about fifty 
years' worth of admiration for and use of a boy's holes.  And of course, the 
younger the better.  But unlike so many of the pedos I know, so many of the 
ones who have used me over the years, he has retained an actual fondness for 
me, even after I developed a damned nice cock, if I say so myself, with a 
well-trimmed bush and very hairy balls.  A fondness that from time to time 
translated into some very good sex.

"Maxie." He pulled me into a deep French kiss as soon as I got close enough, 
rubbing his hands over my wet crotch. His own bulge bumped against my thigh, 
hard and demanding. "Nice entrance, you little pervert."

So.  The Senator was inclined to be unsubtle this evening.  And in public.  
Well, as public as you could consider a private gathering of pedos and 
friends-of-pedos.  I hoped our audience, and I was sure in that instant that 
there would be an audience, appreciated the honor they were being shown.  He 
was rarely unsubtle in such an open setting, with so very many men around to 
watch the most powerful man in the Senate get his rocks off.

"I need it rough tonight," I told him, grinning. "I wanted people worked up. 
  At least a little."  A movement of my head, ah, subtlety, thy name is also 
Maxie, indicated the numerous naked little boys with their hard pricklets, 
some wandering about, some being used.  "Especially in light of the 
competition."

He laughed. "Come over here, I want you to meet my son and grandson."

As we walked over to a nearby buffet table, his hand firmly on my ass, I 
realized I didn't find it odd that after all these years of being sexed by 
him I'd never met his family.  But then, the first time I had that massive 
meat in my tiny boy hole, I was, as the Senator is fond of saying, "kid pro 
quo."  Not that I objected.  Dad wanted something from the Senator, and Dad 
does whatever is necessary to get what he wants.  Although Dad does have 
limits.

I think.

And it wasn't as if Dad was asking me to do anything, like being payment, 
that he hadn't done himself.  I was six, I think, and Dad and Grandpa had 
just fucked both my holes full of cum, when Grandpa remarked that my cum 
drooling pussy, well, it should have drooled since Grandpa's was the third 
load that morning, made him think of that time with Dad and the Teamsters.  
Dad laughed, and got up close to my pussy, even swiping it with his tongue 
to lap up some of his and Grandpa's cum, and oh, I'd forgotten, there were 
four loads, because the butler's cum was up there as well.  He chuckled 
after swallowing the cum and then he and Grandpa told me the story.

The union had been giving Grandpa a problem over their contract, and they 
were on strike.  Strikes are never good for business, and my family is all 
about business, well, and man-sex, and boy-sex as well, but strikes back 
then they told me, were not the namby-pamby strikes that happen now.  Back 
then, strikes were dangerous.  To both sides.  Up to that point, the usual 
methods-good faith negotiations, bribery, intimidation, a judicious use of 
violence here and there, though nothing permanent you understand-weren't 
working.  At least not entirely.  There were still five hold-outs who 
prevented a deal from being made.  Two members of the union board, the 
president, the treasurer, and some guy who was the top rank-and-file guy.  
Although it wasn't as if the rank-and-file had any fucking idea what the 
leadership was really doing.

So Grandpa got them to come over to the original Harris House (Grandpa's 
home, not the first hotel) for a private meeting.  To discuss their 
differences in a civilized fashion and try to resolve them for the good of 
the country, oh, and the company, too.  The union's good was an afterthought 
for all of them.  And once the door was locked behind them, a fact of which 
the union men were then unaware, Grandpa's vice president, and the union 
vice president (bought and paid for) announced to the reporters that labor 
and management had agreed to begin around the clock negotiations to end this 
damaging strike.

There were the five union men in the room.  Grandpa.  Grandpa's brother, my 
great-uncle Dan.  I always thought it was too bad I never got to meet him.  
Dad always said he was an incredible fuck and knew just how to make a little 
boy squirm and squeal with the finest dry cums.  Unfortunately he 
disappeared when Dad was around nine.  Not long after Grandpa found out he'd 
embezzled from the company.  And then there was five-year-old Dad.

The union president, the real source of the problem, just sneered when he 
saw Dad and asked Grandpa just what the fuck a kid was doing there.  Then he 
laughed and told the union men that maybe Grandpa needed his baby boy to 
hold his hand and comfort him when things got rough.  That's when Grandpa 
let them know they were locked in; what the two vice presidents said to the 
press, and that they were going to be living, and then Grandpa paused, and 
sleeping right there until there was a permanent solution.

The room was big, most of the third floor, and they'd been concentrating on 
what they were going to get out of Grandpa, since they already had the money 
he'd paid them, and why else would the management big boss ask for a meeting 
if he wasn't ready to shell out more cash.  So they hadn't notice the large 
bed at one end, or the sleeping bags.  Or the old-fashioned commodes with 
the buckets you had to dump.  When they got done noticing, that was about 
when the words "permanent solution" hit them.  Back then, a permanent 
solution usually meant a disappearance, with or without a good explanation, 
but mostly without.

When they looked back at Grandpa they could tell how pissed he was.  I mean, 
my Dad is one guy you never want to meet when he's really pissed.  With 
Grandpa, it's probably best if you just slash your wrists or shoot yourself 
since the end result would be the same.  And what Grandpa was pissed about 
was that he was really a good employer.  Hell, back then he was probably the 
world's leading employer.  The union members got paid a better than average 
wage, they actually had health benefits, and even good working conditions.  
True, bribery was a way of life, and Grandpa handed out bribes, though 
usually not personally, with the best of them.  But these men had gotten 
greedy.  Now, Grandpa recognized that greed is an American right, a healthy 
principle on which to operate in business and in private life.  But what 
Grandpa abhorred was unreasonable greed, excessive greed.  These men were 
both unreasonable and excessive.

He told them it was up to the five of them to pick one of their group to be 
the permanent solution.  When asked what he meant, he told them they'd find 
out when they made their choice.

They were outraged.  Grandpa showed them the two refrigerators that had been 
moved in.  One for beer, one for food.

They shouted.  Grandpa showed them the shutters that were securely closed, 
the windows sealed, and reminded them they were on the third floor at the 
back of the house, with a huge walled garden below, and the reporters were 
all out front.

They pleaded.  Grandpa had a beer.  So did Uncle Dan.  Dad asked for one but 
Grandpa said no.

They threatened.  Grandpa took a piss.  Just walked over to one of the 
commodes, hauled out his long, thick cock and pissed long and hard and loud 
while he finished his beer.  They abruptly shut up.

They huddled near the door, muttering and whispering and gesturing 
frantically.  Grandpa took off Dad's clothes, carried him over to the same 
commode and sat him down to piss.

When they all turned around, the president stepped forward like he was going 
to say something, only like the rest of them he gaped at the sight of 
Grandpa, fully clothed, holding the hand of a naked five-year-old boy.  His 
own son.  And the boy had a hardon.

"You the permanent solution?" Grandpa asked.  The president just nodded, his 
face a little grey.  "So's Max.  Follow me."

They walked to the end of the room where the bed was.  And the cameras they 
hadn't noticed Uncle Dan setting up.

"You like getting a blowjob, Ted?" Grandpa asked the union president.

The president had come up through the ranks.  He was rough, tough and burly. 
  He wasn't about to admit that he'd never had a blowjob, had always wanted 
one but couldn't ever find a woman willing to do it before he got married, 
and afterwards, well, she barely endured missionary position sex let alone 
anything as depraved as sucking him off.  "Fuck, yeah!"

"Good.  My son here is gonna suck you off and swallow your cum.  And Dan 
here is gonna take a picture of the union president getting his dick worked 
over by a naked little boy whose face will never be recognizable, but his 
age will.  And then this strike is going to be over, you all keep the money 
you've already been paid, and if you ever pull this kind of shit again in 
negotiations, I'll see this picture gets to all the right places and ruin 
you and everyone else in union management."

While the five men were too shocked to do more than just stare, eager, 
well-trained Dad was already hard (literally) at work, unbuttoning Ted's 
trousers, reaching inside the gap to haul out his already sweaty cock and 
balls, inhaling a man-scent that was already a Pavlovian turn-on, and 
swallowing the soft meat.  And bobbing up and down on the dick, fondling 
those hairy balls.

Ted is big enough he could have done something.  Like shoving Dad away and 
telling Grandpa to publish and be damned...although it more likely would 
have been a "fuck off you bastard" type approach if it had happened.  
Instead, that first picture Uncle Dan took (the version that shows Dad's 
face) shows a man lost in the wonder of a hot, wet, talented mouth on his 
hard dick.  The kind of look that can easily change to "fuck off, you 
bastard" if sometime tries to stop the cocksucking.

"Can you cum twice in a row?"

"Huh?"  Ted opened his eyes to look at Grandpa, completely unaware his hands 
were caressing the head of the very, very young boy giving him a blowjob.

"As good as Maxie's mouth is, his boy cunt is even better.  So if you can 
only cum once you probably ought to save it for his asshole."

Manly union presidents don't admit they've never had an occasion to cum 
twice in a row.  "Will...will he swallow?"

Grandpa laughed.  "Hell, yes.  The little slut loves the taste of cum."

And so it came to pass that within a minute or so, Ted was furiously face 
fucking a little boy and unloading a year's worth of cum into his eager 
mouth.  And when he was finished, he discovered he had another year's worth 
of cum in reserve that he hadn't even known about.

Whatever reservations the other union men might have had were, pardon the 
expression, blown away by Ted's shout when he came like the newly-minted 
pedo he was into the baby boy mouth.  A few minutes later he was naked on 
the bed with Dad, experiencing first times, and eager to experience more.  
The first time he saw a tiny little boy laying belly down on a bed with hips 
raised with a pillow, waiting to get man-fucked.  By him.  The first time he 
saw two fingers greasing up the boy's hole with lard.  The first time he 
felt another man's hand on his dick, greasing it up.  The feel of another 
man's hand, a father's fucking loving hand, guiding his leaking dick to his 
little boy's asshole.  The feel of the helmet easing into the hole and the 
tight cunt muscles clamping down when it pops in.  The feel of his dick 
sliding balls-deep into the hottest, tightest pussy it had ever been in.

The president's second cum took a lot longer.  In part because he was 
determined to make it last, since he'd probably never get another chance to 
dip his dick into little boy cunt.  In part because of the number of times 
he had to hold still for Uncle Dan to get the just right blackmailing photo. 
  The best kind were the ones with Ted's face turned toward the camera, his 
eyes glazed with lust, and his cock visibly ready to slide deeper into the 
nameless boy he was fucking.  But all good fucks cum to an end, and this was 
no different except in Ted's eyes.  He pounded the boy's cunt harder and 
harder, urged on by the kid's own father, until at last he regretfully blew 
the entire reserve year of cum into the boy's hole.

While Ted was hunched over Dad's body, panting and not wanting his 
not-wanting-to-go-soft cock to pull out, Grandpa looked at the chairman of 
the board and said, "You're next, Tom."

The chairman must have taken the "no one can hear you" advice to heart since 
his "What!" was nearly a roar that shook the shutters.

Grandpa smiled.  "Oh.  I guess I forgot to mention that you're all a part of 
the permanent solution.  The same permanent solution.  I promised my little 
boy he'd be fucked today at least once each by five men he didn't know, and 
a good father always keeps his promises."

"I...I...you can't...I won't....I...."

"Aw, shut the fuck up, you prick," the rank-and-file man snapped.  "You were 
groping your dick just like the rest of us while Ted was getting his rocks 
off in a little boy's holes, and you're hard now, and fuck, man, you're 
leaking so much I can see it on your pants."

Rank-and-file started stripping off.  "Shit.  Let him wait his turn.  I'm 
next."

Moments later the naked, muscular, grey-haired, grey-pubed rank-and-file 
representative was kneeling on the bed, his legs spread wide, the little 
boy's feet spread, too, so he could see the slime oozing from the boy's 
reddened hole.  He looked down at Grandpa's hand applying grease to his 
short, immensely thick cock.  "Can the cunt take this?"

Grandpa squeezed some clear precum out of the deep slit.  "If he hasn't 
learned by now, it's time he did."

Dad raised up on his hands and looked over his shoulders at the next dick 
scheduled for his little pussy.  Grandpa tousled his hair, getting it 
greasy, too.  "You want this dick slow 'n easy, son, or fast 'n hard."

"Oh, daddy, fast and hard.  Please."

"You heard him."

Dad's squeal was almost as loud as the chairman's "what!" It was followed by 
a long sigh of rapture.

Uncle Dan had rank-and-file guy pull his meat halfway out and hold it there 
so he could get some really good shots of dick that wide spreading his 
nephew's tiny hole.  Rank-and-file guy got kind of a faraway look in his 
eyes.  He looked at Grandpa.  "You know, your kid's a whore now, just 
another cum dump pussy since you pimped him out for your business."

Grandpa laughed, and rubbed his greasy hand in the fucker's thick fur, and 
down to where that wide, wide cock was spreading his son's pussy.  "He's 
been a whore since he was three.  A city alderman if I remember.  Something 
to do with zoning.  This is just the most men he's ever had at one time."

"Jesus."  The man looked down again and was unable to prevent himself from 
sliding in and out a couple of times before holding the pose again.  "Three, 
huh?  Y'know, my grandson is almost five...."

Grandpa stroked the hairy back with his left hand, down the clenched 
buttocks, into the deep hairy trench, his fingertips lightly brushing the 
sweat-damp hole.  "Maybe I could be of help...."

Rank-and-file looked over at Grandpa, who was naked by this time, and at the 
thick, uncut, slightly more than nine-inch cock standing out from his body.  
"Christ, man, between the two of us we'd rip him apart.  Maybe I ought to 
get a smaller-dicked guy to open him up.  Know any small-dicked boy lovers?"

"I do."  Grandpa pressed two fingertips against the man's hole, felt it give 
slightly.  "But if a father isn't going to take a boy's cherry, it's his 
granddad's duty.  My granddad did me just a little before my third birthday, 
since my dad hadn't bothered.  You ever been fucked?"

"Huh?  What?"  The guy came back from that far away place, where'd probably 
been imagining his grandson's baby cherry being taken.

Grandpa rubbed the man's hole at little harder; the man didn't jerk away.  
"I could show you how a man takes virgin male pussy when he wants to be 
careful.  I could ease my dick into your cunt and fuck you while you fuck my 
little boy.  And some other time you could come back and have him all to 
yourself."

"You and me, and my little grandson and your son?  A cherry to be taken, two 
hot tight little cunts to fuck?  Hell, yeah, man, fuck my ass."

Of course it wasn't quite as easy or as painless as Grandpa had made it 
sound, getting a cock that size into any virgin hole, even a grandfather's.  
Eventually the very loud grunts and moans and occasional whimper changed 
from pain to lust.  Grandpa said he always wished he'd thought to have a 
movie camera so there could have been action shots, especially of that 
double fuck.  Grandpa said he kept up a good pace until the man finally 
spewed a load into Dad, and then Grandpa went on fucking the guy like a 
goddamned battering ram for another five minutes or so, until he unloaded 
his own load in formerly-virgin man pussy.

After that, the chairman was eager for his turn, though he didn't last long. 
  The other board member and the treasurer almost came to blows over who was 
next, but Grandpa made them do rock-paper-scissors and the other board 
member went next.

The strike was actually settled the moment the treasurer shoved his cock 
into Dad's spooge-filled cunt and so embarrassed himself by cumming 
immediately that he didn't even realize the camera had flashed to record his 
own, highly visible (since it was only his face with its cumming-distorted 
expression in the picture) descent into depravity.  Over the next 
forty-eight hours my dad was fucked every which way, including loose, 
including the memorable next morning when Dad, my five-year-old slut cum 
whore eventually father, got gang-fucked by all seven men.  The five union 
men, Grandpa, and Uncle Dan.  And then they immediately started over again.  
Dad had so many cums that half the time his pussy was getting fucked he was 
passed out and one man would finish and get off and the next would mount 
him, slide that man-cock deep in Dad's slimy, sloppy ass and pump away until 
another load of cum was added.

There's one really classic picture Uncle Dan took.  Well, had somebody else 
take since Uncle Dan was kind of involved at the time.  The picture shows 
Dad on his right side, his left leg held in the air a long wide cock is 
half-way into his little boy butt.  And a long wide cock is half way into 
his little boy mouth.  And his boy cock and balls are invisible since it's 
pretty obvious that the man whose head hides them is sucking Dad off.  
That's Uncle Dan's cock in Dad's ass, Grandpa's cock in his mouth, and the 
union president sucking him off.

At the end of the forty-eight hours (actually, forty-nine and change), the 
two vice presidents announced that the strike was over, and Grandpa and all 
the negotiators, well, not Dad, came out on the front porch to meet the  
press.  Grandpa still has the picture from the front page of the New York 
Times, above the fold, no less, in his office, very carefully framed and 
lovingly preserved.  In the center is Grandpa, standing next to the union 
president, with joined hands raised and their other arms raised with hands 
waving in victory.  To their right are the union board members and the 
rank-and-file guy.  To their left are Uncle Dan and the treasurer.  Dan's 
arm is around the shoulders of the treasurer.  More to hold him up than to 
demonstrate temporary labor-management unanimity.  Although Uncle Dan had 
fucked the treasurer twice and said his cunt was nearly as tight as a little 
boy's, so maybe he was working on getting some man-pussy later.

Their clothes are all crumpled, as if they'd been slept in.  I guess that's 
what clothes look like when they've been dropped on a floor and walked all 
over during a marathon pedo orgy.  Their faces are haggard and unshaven and 
drawn.  Every time I look at the picture I recognize the expression on every 
one of their faces.  It's the expression a man has when he is really, truly 
all fucked out.  But the best part of the picture is the headline, in very 
large, very bold, type:  "STRIKE OVER.  HARD NEGOTIATION WORKS!"

As we walked I was off in that memory, and the thoughts of that rough gang 
fuck of Dad's had my cock leaking, though you couldn't really tell it with 
the champagne and waiter spit.  When we got to the table I joined the crowd 
again, and didn't know whether to laugh or drool at what I saw.

Lying on the table was an angelic-faced, brown-haired little boy of about 
six.  He was totally naked and his cocklet, two or three inches long, was 
erect, almost glowing an angry red. His face was flushed and he was panting. 
>From the way his toes were curling, I guessed that he was just coming down 
from a dry orgasm. The senator reached out and stroked his hair tenderly.

"Hey, Cameron, you okay?"

The boy nodded, smiling.

"Maxie, this is Cameron the Third, my second oldest grandson.  Cammie, this 
is Maxie, Mr. Harris' oldest son."

We smiled at each other, and then Cam asked, "Is his cock as big as his 
daddy's?"

The Senator must have caught the expression on my face.  "No kid pro quo, 
son.  Little Cam here likes a good hard fuck and your Dad was willing to 
oblige.  As for Maxie's dick, Cammie, well, not yet.  Not yet."

The boy licked his lips, and kept his eyes glued on my crotch. Casually, the 
Senator picked up a small bowl from beside the child's head.

"Caviar, Maxie?" Suiting actions to words, he spooned the salty delicacy all 
over the little boy's cock.

I swooped like a hawk, engulfing the baby dick in my mouth, sucking 
greedily, desperately, as I ran my fingers across his smooth, soft skin, 
tweaking his nipples. I was only vaguely aware of the fingers undoing my 
pants, of the fabric falling to the floor, of the mouth starting to eat my 
ass. It wasn't until after Cammie's hips buckled in my mouth as I brought 
him to another dry cum, that I looked up and to my left to see his 
grandfather's big meat jutting out of his fly.

I twisted my torso so I could stretch out my tongue, and lick a salty drop 
of cum from his piss-slit. Slowly, I licked all around the edge of his 
helmet, hearing him catch his breath. He and I are both uncut; and our cock 
heads are really sensitive around the rim. A rough stroking from the tongue 
there sends jolts of pleasure/pain through the length of our dicks. Once, I 
shot a bucketload of cum just from that. Of course, I was on more of a 
hair-trigger that time because it was my baby son suckling me as my Dad 
screwed my ass.

My cunthole was wet with saliva now, and I felt the mouth withdraw and a big 
cockhead start to press into me. Whoever it was, was taking it slow and 
gentle. I didn't want that. With an animal growl, I let go of Senator 
Graham's dick and rammed myself backwards.

It hurt, but it was a good pain. I gasped for breath and felt my eyes water 
as the impact bruised my prostate and sent a jet of pure sensation coursing 
through my teen cock. Whoever was fucking me must have picked up what I 
wanted - I felt his hands going to my tits, pinching and twisting the 
nipples savagely. I'd be bruised there tomorrow for sure. Good. Maybe I'd 
have Paul rough me up a bit tomorrow. The pain from my tits would add some 
spice. Hissing like a snake, I sank back onto the Senator's cock, 
deep-throating him and using my gag reflex to massage him.

I felt a small mouth close over my own erection. Cammie, I guessed, as my 
eyes were shut.  He must have crawled off the table and then got in front of 
me.  I probed experimentally, feeling the tightness of the baby throat as it 
choked on my seven inches of teen boy meat. I couldn't see much with the 
Senator's taut, hairy stomach filling my vision like his dick was filling my 
throat, but I reached out a hand and found an absolutely hairless little 
cocklet standing iron-hard between slender thighs.

"Good boy, Cameron. Take it all the way...all the way down, son," the guy 
fucking me growled.

Cameron II, never Junior? I was sucking off a grandfather while I jacked his 
grandson-who was also giving me a blowjob-and it was the kid's father who 
was fucking me. Sweet. I drove deeper into the little boy and played with 
him more roughly.

"Give him your pussy, Cameron."

My cock twitched inside the child's mouth as I felt him shift under me. 
Senator Graham pulled free of my hungry sucking and stepped back, stroking 
himself.

I felt the shock of cold air on my saliva-soaked cock as Cameron III 
released it and scooted around on the floor underneath me. His dad stopped 
fucking me and lulled me upright, his palms pressed against my abused tits, 
as the little boy lay down flat on his back and lifted his legs, exposing 
his hole to my hungry gaze. It was so totally fucking perfect, a winking, 
brownish-pink ring, a well-used little ring, set in a tiny bubble butt of 
creamy flesh. I reached a finger down to caress it.

"It's wet," I whispered hoarsely.

"My cum," his dad breathed in my ear.

I lifted my hand, tasting the semen leaking from the child's boy cunt, and 
then reached down to open him. I slipped one finger inside, then two, then 
three. It was remarkably easy to spread him out, and he let out a sound 
half-way between a whimper and a groan as I rubbed his tiny prostate.

I looked up at Senator Graham and licked my lips. Keeping my eyes locked 
with his, I leaned down, extending my tongue as far is it would go, driving 
it deep into the little boy's hole. As slowly as I could, I pulled it out 
again, making sure that the senator could see the load of his son's cum that 
I'd just lapped out of his grandson's boy-cunt.

It was good. Thick and salty-daddy must have been saving up a load for some 
time. I closed my eyes as I swallowed, tilting my head back so father and 
son could see my boyish Adam's apple working, swallowing the load. Then I 
leaned down again, breathing heavily on that tiny little bubble butt as my 
tongue snaked out for a second taste of the little boy.

His dad's swollen cock twitched violently inside my ass, as I felt fresh 
stabs of pain from my nipples as he mauled them. My own dick was hot and 
aching, and I knew the temptation to bury it inside the child's ass would 
soon be overwhelming, I wanted to hold back as long as possible, to torment 
us all with the anticipation so that the sweet relief of the fucking would 
be even better.

"You really are a fucking pedophile," his dad whispered in my ear. "Fifteen 
years old, and you're as big a pervert as any man here." His hand went to my 
cock, jutting proud and uncut between my shaved thighs, and his thumb ran 
over the piss-slit, smearing my freely leaking precum all over the helmet. I 
squeezed my ass-muscles around his throbbing prick, squeezing tightly. I 
wondered, for a second, about turning around to look at him, but something 
in me was turned on by the thought of being fucked anonymously, by a man I'd 
never even seen. It made me feel slutty and wanton, and that was the way I 
wanted to feel right now.

"You want to know big a pervert I am?" I whispered back at him. "I'm a 
daddy, too.  When I was twelve years old my grandfather jacked me off into a 
test tube while my daddy fucked my ass. I was thirteen when my son was born. 
And I started him early when we brought him home.  Of course, my little baby 
son suckled my cock first. And since then he's cheerfully and eagerly had my 
daddy.  My granddaddy.  My twin brothers who were six when he was born.  And 
everyone who works on the estate, and their children. The youngest kid he's 
given a blowjob to has been four.  But his asshole cherry is still intact.  
And I'm going to take it soon, and then share him with Dad and Grandpa.  
That's how perverted I am."

"Oh shit. Oh sweet motherfucking Jesus, get your cock in my son right 
fucking now. NOW!" One hand was gripping my prick like a vice. The other was 
twisting my nipples savagely, bringing fresh tears to my eyes with the pain 
of it. But I was smiling through the tears. I know I have this really sick, 
twisted smile. I've seen it often enough-my bedroom ceiling is mirrored. 
Don't get me wrong, normally I look like this clean-cut, clean-thinking, 
totally respectable all-American boy, the sort that any mom would be happy 
to have for a son-in-law. (That's a laugh. Every now and then, my 
grandfather will slide his dick into a little preteen girl, but I have 
always strictly avoided female cunt. I don't quite know why. Maybe I'm 
asserting my gay identity. That's what that shrink who stayed with us last 
year said. Though I suspect he only said it because he wanted into my pants 
and didn't realize at first that he had no need to talk me into it.  Dad 
funded some new psychiatric institute he wanted to set up, to treat "sexual 
disorders." Knowing Dad, it was a front to find good-looking perverts to add 
to our web of pedo contacts. Whatever.)

But anyhow...that smile I get when I'm wallowing, drowning, choking in 
sex...that's when you see the real me. I know what my father and grandfather 
did to me. I'm not stupid. They moulded me, shaped me, depraved me and 
corrupted me until I was as perverted, as sexually voracious, as unwilling 
to let conscience stand in the way of my cock, as they are. Only the thing 
is, I fucking love who and what I am. I love my own perversion and 
corruption. The thought of just how depraved I'm being when I fuck a little 
boy's ass is almost as thrilling to me as the feel of his tight little ass 
gripping my cock.

And I was smiling my sick, real-me smile as I looked down at the little boy 
pointing his ass at me.

"Turn around, Cameron. I want to see your face when I fuck your little baby 
cunt."

His dad choked back a little moan when he heard me say that. Cameron scooted 
around on the floor and lay down on his back, giggling a little as he looked 
up at me. He looked so soft, so tender and innocent, an open little face 
with a sweet, endearing smile. Only his reddened little cocklet, standing up 
as hard as a tiny iron bar, spoiled the image of childish vulnerability.

"I'm going to fuck you now, little boy," I whispered at him. "Would you like 
that?"

He giggled a bit more. "Yes.  Oh, yes, please."

I leaned over him. My cock poked hard against his tiny, slightly bruised 
pink ring. I have the same big-dick genes as my dad and grandfather, and it 
looked obscenely, impossibly huge against the opening. I stroked my thumbs 
against his nipples. "Then ask me nicely, Cameron."

A little pink tongue flickered over his lips. "Please, Maxie, fuck my 
boy-cunt with your big cock." He said it in a sing-song voice-it was 
obviously a line he'd been taught. Somehow that made it even better.

I sank my cock into him. I was trying to be gentle, but his dad slammed up 
against me, burying himself balls-deep in my own ass, and converting my slow 
entry into a single, vicious thrust. The boy let out a wailing cry that 
mixed pain and pleasure as I penetrated him.

Oh fuck, fuck, FUCK, was he tight around me. Tight and hot and wet with his 
own father's thick, salty cum. Once he was over the initial shock he started 
to massage my dick with his ass, so expertly that I knew he hadn't been a 
virgin for a long time.  Maybe he was a born slut.  Like I believe I must 
be.  How old had he been, the first time? I opened my mouth to ask, but 
Senator Graham pounced, thrusting his own meat right down my throat. I tried 
to relax, breathing through my nose and using my gag reflex to massage the 
invading cock, but he wasn't making it easy for me. Well, that was okay. I 
wasn't in the mood for easy. I was in the mood to be violated, raped, used. 
I think the Senator's son sensed that too, because he suddenly started 
ramming my ass like a maniac, slamming home with savage force, like he 
really, really wanted to hurt me.

Or maybe I wasn't the one he wanted to hurt. Maybe in his mind it was his 
little boy he was nailing, and I just happened to be in the way. The 
pounding I was getting was sure as hell ramming my cock into Cameron III, 
right up to the hilt. My balls were actually knocking against his 
butt-cheeks, adding an extra little spice of pain to the overload of 
sensation I was getting.

Senator Graham had yanked off his jacket and shirt and let his pants fall to 
the floor, leaving him as good as naked. His grey-furred chest was filling 
my vision.  I reached up to grab his tits and looked down at Cammie from the 
corner of my eye.

Oh, my fucking God...the kid was jacking his little boy cock as I fucked 
him, smiling up at me even as his whole little body was rocked by what I-and 
his Dad-were doing to him. My brothers love a rough fuck too, but I've not 
seen many children handle a violent screwing as well as little Cameron. He 
was a real chip off the old block. Talking of which...I slid my hands from 
the Senator's chest down and around to his ass, pulling the cheeks apart and 
probing his hole. Cameron Graham (no number, no "senior" after the 
patriarch's name) doesn't have any hang-ups about taking it as well as 
dishing it out. At my fourteenth birthday party, one of my seven-year-old 
brothers actually fisted him. He was moaning and grunting like fuck in front 
of everyone there, more than a hundred guests. I've never seen his cock so 
big and hard, and believe me, I've seen his cock a hell of a lot. He blew a 
load like a volcano. I feel quite proud of myself for not spilling a drop 
(naturally, as the birthday boy I got the special treat). I swallowed every 
last dribble of his juices. Dad and Grandpa told me how proud of me they 
were when we went to bed that night. (That morning, really; it was about 5 
a.m., but as it was a special occasion they'd let me snort a little coke and 
all three of us still had raging hardons even though our balls were totally 
drained and we were sore as hell. It was one of the best parties I can 
remember).

The Senator's hands were on the back of my head, forcing me down on his 
dick. I began to gag violently, not fighting it but allowing the reflex to 
work on the invading cock, stroking it. I knew I'd have a hell of a sore 
throat tomorrow to go with my bruised nipples and aching ass, but it was 
worth it. I groped the Senator's gray-furred chest frantically, feeling the 
nubs of his big, nipples like hard little stones beneath my hands. I closed 
my fingers, pinching them, deliberately teasing him so he'd want to punish 
me. He yanked at my hair cruelly, sending stabs of pain through my scalp to 
match his brutal thrusting into my mouth. Then I felt tiny hands on my own 
nipples, and I realised that little Cammie had decided to help me by helping 
his daddy give me a tit workout. He was quite a little sadist, and I could 
feel his little fingers abusing my sensitive nubs viciously.

Okay...so the little punk wanted to play it like that, huh? I let my hands 
fall from Senator Graham's muscular chest to the smooth, babyish boy tits of 
his grandson. He was deliciously smooth and soft, even his pale pink nipples 
gently rubbery rather than hard. I ran my fingers over them, savouring their 
softness, and then I struck, pinching them, yanking them, twisting them and 
scratching them. His cunt tightened even further around my cock with each 
violation, and his fingers on my own teats grew even more savage and 
unrestrained.  He was loving every fucking second.

Oh, he was a horny little fucker, this one. How long had his father been 
using him? I made a mental note to ask in the small part of my mind that 
wasn't functioning on a purely animal level.

I caught movement out of the corner of my eye. Our little group was getting 
surrounded by men. Naked men. Jacking themselves, jacking each other, 
watching a teenage boy fuck a preteen boy as he got fucked himself and 
sucked dick. I flaunted myself for them. I deliberately pulled my cock 
almost all the way out of that kiddy boy cunt, making sure they could all 
see its length, see his ring distended around the helmet, before sinking it 
back into him. His dad was licking my ear and breathing harder and harder. I 
could feel his cock, swelling inside my ass, and I knew he was getting 
close. I was, too.

Cum splashed onto my back in three long, hot jets. A moment later, more of 
it splashed on my neck and arms. Daddy leaned down and started lapping it 
up, his tongue rough against my skin. His cock surged inside me and I froze, 
savouring the sensation of his seed pumping out, filling my hungry ass. It 
was an effort not to cum myself from the feeling, but I struggled 
desperately to hold back.

I moaned in frustration as the fleshy spear pulled wetly out of my hole, 
leaving a slimy trail behind it. Then I felt a tongue against the opening, 
drinking up the cum dripping from my distended, flexing opening. More hot 
splashes against my skin, and suddenly what seemed like a forest of tongues 
were crawling all over my skin, feasting on my body.

Senator Graham yanked his cock free from my throat. His rough, callused hand 
ran over it, using my saliva a lube. His muscular, grey-haired chest was 
heaving as he panted, faster and faster.

I stepped up my abuse of his grandson's baby tits as I gazed up into the 
Senator's eyes. I didn't flinch as jet after jet of hot semen surged out of 
his cock and splashed against my face. I just crouched there and took it, 
staring up at him.

Gasping, he squatted on his haunches. His cock, still almost fully erect, 
flopped down between his legs and dripped a few more drops of cum on the 
marble floor.

His kissed me. It wasn't affectionate, or gentle. It was animalistic and 
demanding and brutal. His tongue scrubbed across my face like a dog licking 
at its balls before it thrust the taste of him into my mouth.

Underneath me, Cameron III started to shudder in a dry orgasm. His little 
fingernails actually drew blood from the skin around my nipples as his tight 
ass channel contracted around my cock. The mix of pleasure and pain was just 
too much. I lost it.

My body convulsed as my teen dick sent juice flooding into Cameron's ass. 
Locked in a lustful, deep-tongued French kiss with a United States Senator, 
with another tongue drilling my teen boy cunt and men around me licking 
spilled man juices from my skin, I felt my vision greying out with the force 
of it. I didn't actually faint, but I swooned, all but collapsing on top of 
the hairless little boy beneath me. Only the Senator's strong arms held me 
up.

I closed my eyes. This was what I lived for. This was what I needed, to 
quench-however temporarily-the fire that raged forever in my groin.

But even in that transcendent moment, knowing there were other transcendent 
moments yet to happen tonight, there was some little part of me that felt 
alone.

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