DING MY GRANDSON
By DannyR (MMM/b, M/g, oral, anal, incest, ws, extreme pedo, racial)
Copyright 2006-2011. All rights reserved
Notes: Don’t forget, guys: Inquiring authors want to know -- what did you think? So when you’re done, put your fingers to a dried-off, cleaned-up keyboard and start by typing: dr_harris_81@hotmail.com.
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 law for the harshest penalties the law allows. Now that we're clear on what's what, and what's not, read on.
BREEDING MY GRANDSON
Part 1. Timmy 1
My grandson is a nigger.
I’m white, my wife was white, my son is white, my daughter-in-law is white.
And my three-month old baby grandson is a half-breed nigger!
“How the fuck did this happen?” I roared at my son and daughter-in-law.
Alan flinched. Flinched? My son flinched? What the fuck? He hadn’t flinched at me or my temper since the last time I spanked his butt, and that was, shit, twenty years ago, no, twenty-two, since he just turned thirty-three last week. His expression was odd, something I didn’t understand, as he said softly, “Uh, the usual way?” and looked away.
I put my hand on his left shoulder, fingers clamped tight, and forced him to turn back towards me. “Don’t fuck with me, son. It’s pretty damned clear some nigger, jesus, some really black, fat lipped, wide-nosed nigger has plowed Diane’s cunt. So I want to know just how the fuck you let that happen, and why the fuck you didn’t come to me so I could help.”
He didn’t say anything. Just sort of trembled a little, not much, but I could feel it under my hand, and kept his eyes down. He’d always looked me in the eye. Jesus, did the fucking slut get him fucked on drugs or something? I looked down at the naked baby boy on his back in his carrier on the kitchen table where Diane had been about to change him when I used my key and walked in the back door. Nothing was different from the first sight. His real daddy was definitely one of those really black niggers, and Christ that was some dick and balls for such a little one. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not prejudiced. Hell, there are some damned fine black men around. Alan’s boss at Statler Hobbes, for example. Damned fine trial lawyer, even if the firm does nothing but criminal defense. But it was a nigger who’d used her, since only a nigger, not a black man, would do that to another man’s wife. My grandson, with a wide flat nigger nose, fat nigger lips, nappy nigger hair, bubble butt nigger ass. Fuck! Well, except, shit, he wasn’t really my grandson. I could work with that.
I ignored the slut who’d done this to my family. “Look, Alan, it’s not too late to deal with this. That’s clearly not your son. Toss her ass out, I’ll get you a divorce, hell, I’ll handle the goddamned case myself for free, and you get Amy and Bobby, and everything else and she gets her nigger son and the clothes on her back.”
He still wouldn’t look at me. “I...I can’t, dad. I have to, I mean, I’ve decided to raise him.”
I went right on talking, pretty much over him. “Wait. Was she raped? That’s it? Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you report it? Did the fucking niggers who raped her threaten you? Amy? Bobby? God damn it, Alan, talk to me!” And I shook his shoulder hard, half pushing him, and he stepped back when I let him go. Still not looking at me. Still not shouting back.
I opened my mouth to say something more, to try to get through to him, but Diane’s words cut me off.
“Alan, Timmy needs to pee.”
What?
I looked over at Timmy my no longer grandson. Apparently he’d started to pee since I could see it glistening on his belly and little balls. He wasn’t peeing any more since Diane was pinching his foreskin to cut off the flow...and staring at my son, ignoring me. I looked at him, then back at her.
I’m good at reading body language. A trial lawyer has to be. Alan’s face had just said, “Please, no, I can’t, don’t make me.”
Diane’s face said, “Do it.”
I didn’t have a fucking clue what “it” was...until Alan’s shoulders slumped, and then he stepped to the table, leaned over, and engulfed the boy’s cock and balls and Diane’s fingertips in his mouth. She pulled her fingers out. And Alan started swallowing.
My son was drinking a baby boy’s piss. And playing with himself through his robe and whatever he had on underneath it. Even A-personality lawyers sometimes get overcome with shock and show it. I dropped my ass onto one of the bar stools around the table. Eventually the boy stopped peeing and Alan started to lift his head. Diane said with the same quiet command. “Clean him up, Alan.”
And my son started using his tongue to get all the earlier piss off the baby, licking and slurping loudly until the boy was slick with his saliva. He was bracing himself with his hands on the edge of the table, and I saw him tense, slump again, and then he gently picked the boy up, turned him over on his belly so those two very plump butt cheeks were in the air, and began licking the baby’s asshole.
Jesus. I couldn’t believe it. My son was a sick, disgusting, pedo pervert. And so was his wife. Christ, I hoped Amy and Bobby didn’t know about this perversion. I’d have to get them away. Get the baby away, too, and fuck, into foster care or some adoption program while mummy and daddy are off in prison. I’d seen a lot of erotic things in my life, some kinky, some really kinky, some disgusting, but nothing had really prepared me for the sight of my hunky, only slightly-going-to-seed son bent over a table, his very white hands a sharp contrast to the really dark chocolate flesh of the baby, while his fingers pulled the cheeks apart and he tongue fucked the kid.
And the only reason my dick was throbbing was because I hadn’t been laid in far too long.
I probably should have started beating the shit out of Alan earlier, like as soon as he started swallowing baby boy piss, but I was so stunned, first that my grandson was half nigger, second that my son and daughter-in-law were perverts, that I just sat there until he finished the tongue fucking. He straightened up, licked his lips and looked at me. For a moment I was looking at the bulge under his robe, not much of one either, from the looks of it, and then into his eyes.
We were all silent for a moment. Well, he was still my son, and I was still a damned good lawyer, fucking brilliant at times, in fact, so maybe there was a way out. I’d have to get the kids away from them permanently, and get them some help. But maybe I could keep all this from being a scandal, and wiping out his reputation, his firm’s, and mine as well.
I managed to keep my voice quiet and firm, a major contrast to the last bellow. “All right. Now here’s what’s going to happen....”
“Nothing’s going to happen, dad.”
“Don’t you ‘dad’ me, you fucking, cheating slut.” I gave my whore daughter-in-law one of my best glares. “Sleeping around, getting yourself knocked up. No wonder you two have been avoiding me since I got back from Germany.”
I looked at my son. “I thought you were smarter than this, son. And not a sick pedo freak, either, but Jesus, man, you didn’t even notice she was cheating on you with a nigger? Maybe with a lot of them? Didn’t know she was getting pregnant by one of them?”
He didn’t say anything but Diane did. With a damned sneering laugh. “Oh, your precious son knew all right, dad. He helped. He guided that thick nigger dick into my cunt, and then when I was being fucked good and hard by long fat black meat, he was eating out the nigger’s sweaty asshole, and sucking his balls. And he was hard all the time. Just like he is now.”
Damn. She was right. His dick was tenting the robe. And mine was getting harder, too. What the fuck?
“Show your daddy your dick, Alan. Show him your hard cock and play with yourself while you explain everything to daddy. Everything.”
“Diane, please....”
“You know what you were told to do if this happened, Alan. So just the fuck do it.”
Told? And wait, something I’d missed earlier. “Told? Who told you to do something? And earlier, when you said you’d decided to raise the boy as yours, that was a change. You first said you had to. What the fuck is going on here?” I was back to almost shouting again, and Alan was definitely cringing, though I don’t think it would really have been visible except to anyone who knew him really well. Like his slut wife and his own damned father.
“Here, dear, I’ll even help get the story started. Dad—” that sneer again, “you remember dinner at the Top of the Tower about five months ago?”
I nodded, unable to tear my eyes away from my son, who untied his robe, let it fall off his shoulders onto the floor, and stood there naked. With a hardon. In front of his fucking father. And then he started stroking it. I hadn’t seen his cock since he was a little boy, had never seen it hard. It wasn’t all that impressive, so the genes for his dick must have come from my wife’s family, not that I had any knowledge of dick sizes in her father, uncles or brothers. But I did have some knowledge of dick sizes in my family, and while we weren’t eight or nine inch porn stars we were pretty damned respectable. Alan was not even six inches long. Somewhere between the size of a nickel and the size of a quarter in diameter. Flaring head. Fat but not very large balls. Nothing to write home about for a six foot tall man, 190, high school and college football player with the start of a definite belly and love handles. If you were the kind of guy who wrote home about dicks.
Except...he was also fucking hairless.
Hairless!
Smooth and sleek skin that should have been covered by thick curly chest hair, long and thick pit hair and pubes, furry legs, furry arms. Just like mine. But nothing. Not around his cock, not around his balls. Fuck, he was probably bare assed, too, with a naked hole. There was a sheen of sweat all over his body. The muscles that would have been hidden by the fur were clear, and somehow the thickening at the waist, the start of a belly, was even more obscene because it was bare flesh, more erotic.... I twitched at the sound of Diane’s voice.
“How much do you remember about the dinner?”
“What the hell is there to remember about the dinner? You two, the kids, me, and Alan’s boss, celebrating Alan’s promotion to junior partner.”
“You remember what Alan’s boss looked like?”
“Well, for Christ’s sake, Diane, of course. I’ve known Jerome Statler for years.”
“Kind of a very black, very fat lipped, very wide nosed, really big nigger, isn’t he?”
Shit. Alan’s boss had fucked my daughter-in-law, got her pregnant.
Diane smirked when she saw I understood. “And you were left alone at the table for a while, weren’t you?”
“Yes. You had to take Amy to the restroom, Bobby needed to go as well so Alan took him, and I guess Jerome must have had to go as well. I didn’t. So I stayed at the table.”
“Go on, Alan, tell your dad about that night. And then the rest of it.”
“I, uh, well, Bobby said he had to pee. So I had to go with him.”
“What for? The boy’s nine. He’s big enough to go to the restroom in a four-star restaurant by himself.”
“Well, uh, we, uh don’t often let him go to public restrooms alone any more. So anyway....”
“What do you mean ‘often?’ Sometimes you do, sometimes you don’t? What makes the difference?”
Alan kind of squirmed like some of the men I’ve cross-examined when I pick up on a word they probably regretted using shortly after they said it, but hoped I wouldn’t notice. I usually noticed. Of course part of the squirming could have been because he squeezed one tit really hard just then. My cock got a little bit longer.
“I’ll come back to that.”
“No, you won’t. I like this line of questioning right now. Now answer me. Why do you let my grandson go to a john by himself sometimes and not others?”
“It...it....” more hesitation, more lip licking, more refusal to look at me, and then he just mentally sagged and gave in. “It depends, dad, on whether it’s a restroom that we know he’s going to get used in or one we don’t know.”
“Used?” My voice was low and dangerous.
Alan just shrugged, despite still slowly jacking his meat, his expression clearly saying, “Well, you fucking had to ask, didn’t you?”
“Yeah, dad, used. Like the toilet in Bannister Park, near the north side.”
Jesus. That had to be one the most infamous men’s rooms in the city. Although it was pretty highly thought of by a small group of lawyers who represented the queers who got arrested during one of the occasional “we must clean up this fair city” campaigns, with the arrests in the john being proof the cops were actually doing something. And with a few payoffs and plea bargains for the older/younger wealthy men the tickets vanished or got changed to something innocuous. Of course the younger ones had to take their lumps. And the deviant behavior conviction. The rest of the time it was a popular cruising spot, and somehow families knew to stay away from it, no matter how much one of them had to piss or shit. And my son took my grandson to the park, and let him go in there alone. I’ll kill him.
After what happened earlier, I expected him to flinch at my glare, but this time he didn’t. Just, well, fucking smirked. “Used, dad. Little Bobby likes to get used in that toilet. He likes the smells of piss and cum and sex. He likes sucking off the men he finds there. He likes getting his boy twat pumped full of man meat. He likes it a goddamned lot. So yeah, I check out the toilets to be sure they’re safe for him to get sexed in.
“But I’d never been to the Tower before, so I had to check it out. Although Jerome had made me start taking Bobby to the park toilets and nature trails and other places, he never went himself. He told me that I was clearly expendable if I got caught sexing my young boy in public, or pimping him out, but he enjoyed Bobby telling him all about the latest men using his boy-cunts, while Jerome fucked Bobby hard and deep. So I was kind of surprised when Jerome said he had to ‘go,’ too.”
Fuck. That nigger bastard had messed with my grandson, a goddamned lot, and Alan let him.
“The place was empty. Three stalls. Three urinals. Three males who sniffed the disinfectant smell and needed to piss. I went to....”
“Alan.” Just the word from Diane, but it sounded like it was a warning.
“Uh, Jerome told me to go to the middle stall, drop my pants and sit on the stool, legs spread and sitting farther back than you would if you were going to use it.. Then he had Bobby, well, stand between my legs and, uh, well, piss on me. He soaked my cock and balls pretty good, too. But he stopped and said he wanted to piss in my mouth. So I, well, I asked Jerome if that was okay and when he said it was Bobby finished his piss that way.”
Alan paused to get two fingers of his left hand wet with spit, and then moved them to his ass. My son was talking about swallowing my grandson’s piss while he was fucking his own asshole with his fingers. Fuck. So fucking sick and depraved. My stomach churned. My cock got a little harder.
“Then Jerome took Bobby’s place and used my mouth as a toilet for most of his piss, but saved enough to give Bobby a couple of really big swallows. Bobby and I are getting pretty damned good at that.”
Christ. My son was bragging that he and my grandson were good urinals, like they’d brought home report cards with all A’s, or scored the winning touchdown.
“Jerome said he thought we ought to inaugurate the restroom, and gave Bobby his choice of who got fucked. Me or Bobby. Bobby thought it would be great if both of us got fucked. Bobby could fuck me, and Jerome could fuck Bobby. I got up and turned around so I could kneel on the floor, bent over the toilet, but Jerome wanted me to get fucked out in front of the urinals.
“Jeez, dad, I was so fucking scared...and so fucking turned on. I mean, I was gonna have my son’s dick in my ass in a few seconds, and anybody could have come in. Even you. If we were in the stalls, well, you know, we could’ve pulled it off maybe if someone came in, but Christ, out in plain view?
“I crab-walked out of the stall and half bent, half squatted so I could get down to the right height for Bobby. Your grandson bent over, dad, and started eating out my raunchy hole. He is so fucking good, just wait’ll you.... Uh. Anyway, he got his dick into my hole; he’s crazy about fucking his daddy, y’know? Uh, right. I heard Jerome’s zipper come down, knew he was pulling his jock aside and pulling out his cock. I looked over my shoulder to see him on his knees behind Bobby. He asked Bobby if he was really sure he wanted this because we didn’t have a lot of time and it was going to have to be rough and fast if Bobby wanted to bring Uncle Jerome off.
“It was still a good idea for Jerome to wrap his hand over Bobby’s mouth. You’ll need to remember, dad, Bobby is a screamer. He screams loud when you punch fuck your cock into him, even louder when he’s cumming. So you gotta keep him muffled, especially if you’re in a fancy men’s room and your dad is out there wondering what the fuck was taking so long for three pisses, and your wife and daughter know damn well what’s going on.
“Jerome likes spit fucks and he was really reaming Bobby’s ass out, and forcing Bobby to stay in my ass, when the fucking door opened. I tried to scramble loose, figuring Bobby and Jerome would do the same, but Jerome had his hands tight on my hips, fuck, bruises the next day tight, and kept right on fucking. I was terrified. I looked over my shoulder and fuck, it was somebody who worked for the restaurant. A busboy or something. We were so fucking dead.
“Only, well, we weren’t. Fucking dead, that is. Jerome said, ‘Right on time, Carlos. Alan, Bobby, I’d like you to meet Carlos, a former client of mine. He’s out on parole from a rape conviction. Just trying to be a good citizen now, and earn a living. But he doesn’t get many chances to fuck male pussy any more, at least not right now without getting sent back to prison. So I told him I might know of a man he could rape right on the job. Well, not rape, since the man is so damned willing. And then Jerome asked me if I was willing to...to get my pussy mouth and pussy hole raped hard and fast by a thug Latino ex-con rapist with a donkey dick.
“Jeez, dad, I, well, what choice did I have?”
What choice did he have? Fuck! He could have pulled his asshole away from his little son’s hard dick and screamed bloody murder, that’s what.
“So...so I thanked him like Jerome taught me and said I’d really appreciate Carlos raping me however he wanted.
“And that’s what he did, Dad. Carlos really did have a donkey dick. Long and thick, funky-smelling with the skin pulled back around a bright pink head. Curved down so when he yanked my head up and forced my mouth open, it slid right down into my throat with no problem. Then he just grabbed hold, damned hard, and fucked my face. Used my mouth hole until I was fucking gasping for air the few seconds he allowed me a chance to breathe, and then he yanked his cock, all slick with spit and his juices out of my mouth, and told me he was going to rape my pussy.
“Dad, please...please play with my tits.”
“What?” My voice wasn’t as big a roar as earlier, and not quite as angry, but enough to visibly shake him.
“J...Jerome said if I, if I had to tell you about that night, I had to, had to jack off and beg, uh, beg my daddy to hurt my tits.”
“Hurt your tits?”
He bowed his head, almost turning away from me but still jacking his oozing meat. “Y...yeah. Jerome says I’m just, well, I’m just a worthless piece of cum slut man trash and I need to be hurt. So I know...oh, God...so I know my rightful place.”
Disgusting. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My ex-manly, ex-football hero, ex-stud-looking son was naked and hairless in front of his wife and his nigger baby and me, hard, leaking, and begging to be used, to be hurt. Disgusting didn’t begin to describe how I felt.
Hard didn’t begin to describe the condition my dick was in. But if I touched his nips, twisted and pulled them really fucking hard like my anger wanted me to, then I’d be joining in with this perversion. Agreeing to it. No fucking way.
Was there? No. Fuck, no.
“You really want me to hurt your nips, son?”
“Oh, god, yes, daddy, please.”
“You know how strong I am, son. If I put my big hairy hands on your pecs and squeezed, if I took both your tits between my thumbs and forefingers, and squeezed hard, I’d make you squeal like a little girl from the pain. Is that what you really want?”
He was almost whimpering. “Yes, daddy, yes.”
“No.”
His eyes flew open at that. I guess he’d been picturing the image in his head like men, even wimpy pussy-ass men like my son, did when they were jacking. He looked at me, licked his lips like he was going to be even more disgusting and grovel, decided against it. Maybe it was the contempt on my face. That look is a very effective technique in the courtroom, and I don’t think he’d ever mastered it. Or could tell how much was technique and how much was real. Well, fuck, at that moment I wasn’t sure if even I could have determined the split.
“Tell me the rest of what you have to tell me.” The “you piece of useless white trash” was in my tone. My slut son could at least read that much of me.
“Uh, well, Carlos, made me pull away from Bobby, get down on my knees with my cunt hole thrust up, and then he just rammed home. He hurt me, daddy. He didn’t do anything to loosen my pussy first, and Bobby’s boy dick sure hadn’t. He pulled all the way out so my cunt was wide open and then shoved in again. Oh, God, it hurt, but I, I, I begged him to fuck my pussy harder. Sweet Jesus, he did. And all the while he slapped my ass, and talked to me, degrading me, making me feel like my only use was as a hole for dumping cum, threatening to come over here and rape my wife, make her his whore and breed her. And then he said he was going to cum in my slut hole and if I didn’t keep every fucking bit of it in my cunt for the rest of the night, he’d hurt me so bad I wouldn’t be able to fucking walk for a month. That’s when I started cumming without him or me touching my dick. And he came in my ass, and when I looked over, I could see Jerome was coming in Bobby’s hot little pussy, and Bobby was shivering and shaking with a dry cum.”
“Did Jerome tell you you could cum when you told me about this?”
Alan stopped jacking and looked at me, shit, almost like was he was going to cry. “N...no.”
“You were getting close, weren’t you?”
“Yes, daddy.”
“Well then, fucking don’t cum.”
“Y...yes, daddy.”
“I mean, you sure as fuck don’t deserve to be rewarded with a cum for letting yourself be raped, and for letting some fucking nigger, even if he is your boss, molest your own little boy, and fill your little son’s cunt with cum, do you?”
“N...no, daddy.”
“Good. So. You all cleaned yourselves up, Carlos went wherever the fuck, and the three of you came back to the table. And we finished dinner, left the restaurant. Anything more you want to tell me, or well, let’s get it clear, anything more you were ordered to tell me?”
Alan nodded, a shamed look on his face.
“Now why the fuck doesn’t that surprise me?” I sighed, one of my better long-suffering-lawyer sighs. I glanced over at my daughter-in-law. Jesus, the slut had her dress up around her waist, her panties at her knees and she was playing with her cunt. I sighed again. This was one of the Christ!-what-I-have-to-do-for-justice sighs. “Go on.”
Alan looked down at my crotch, and his eyes widened at the bulge. He raised his head, looked me right in the eye, and then backed down at the don’t-go-there glare.
“Jerome said I had to tell you about how it started.
“It was about a year and a half ago, well, more like twenty months. I was working late on a brief and Jerome stopped by my office. He told me to take a break for a while and to come to his office, that we had to talk. I followed him there, and when we went in, I headed for the chair in front of his desk where I usually sat for conferences with him, though they weren’t very often. He only let me get a few steps into the office, though, and told me to stop. To just stand there. He shut the door, and I heard the lock click. He’d never done that before.
“I started to say something but he just told me to shut up and not say anything. I did. He walked around me, you know, a full circle kind of thing, and then stood in front of me. Close. Not like we were touching or anything, but invading my space. I’d never realized how big he really was. How I really did have to look up to see his face, or his eyes.
“He told me he’d been talking to the senior partners about me, that he’d told them he thought perhaps I had something very special to offer to the partners.”
“Yeah, I bet he did,” I interrupted, my face and voice sneering at him. “Your ass, your mouth and your goddamned family.”
And my fucking son was still jacking off! “Call him.”
“Wh...what?”
“You fucking heard me. Pick up the goddamned phone, call Jerome and get him over here.”
“B...but I’m not supposed....”
“Do I look like I give a fuck what you’re supposed to do?” I walked over to the phone, yanked it out of the cradle and handed it to him.
Jerome was #1 on my son’s fucking speed dial. I took a deep breath. Held it. Let it out slowly. Didn’t fucking help. I’d always been #1 on his speed dial, just like he was on mine, and Jerome had taken that away from me, too. Just like he’d taken my son’s cun...whoa. Where the fuck had that thought come from?
I started paying attention again. My son was...hell, he was as unpersuasive as a no-talent lawyer arguing a multimillion dollar case to a jury without a fucking clue what he was doing. I interrupted him. “Jerome?” I mouthed.
He nodded, miserably. I guess he’d been getting his ass chewed for making the call. Like I gave a shit at this point. I held out my hand. He looked even more miserable, then handed the phone to me.
I put it to my ear. Then, just to be sure, “Jerome?”
“Yes?” The voice was confident, a bit arrogant.
“This is Steven Hawkins, the father of the man whose family you’ve been fucking. Senior partner of the state’s biggest goddamn law firm. A man who can make your life go right down into the sewer where it belongs, personally and professionally, if you don’t get your motherfucking slimeball nigger ass over to my son’s house right now. Otherwise, the next visitor you’re going to get is from several cops to arrest you for molesting my grandchildren. How far from here are you?”
“I don’t....”
“Nigger, do you get the fucking impression I give a rat’s ass what you do or don’t at this point? I asked you a fucking goddamned question. You a man, or a wimp like my so-called son?”
“A half hour.”
“In twenty-one minutes I start a conference call with Judge Panetti and the district attorney. I don’t think it’ll take more than five minutes to get the paperwork on a warrant started and cops out to you to make sure you don’t flee the jurisdiction.” I looked at my Rolex. “It’s 11:51. I’ll see you at 12:11.”
I really missed the old telephones, back in the good old days when you could slam a phone down to end a call, and the vehemence of the click! let whoever was on the other end of the line know what you were feeling, as well as making you feel good yourself, and let a little of the rage out. Pushing a fucking button just doesn’t cut it.
I looked at Diane. “I want to talk to my asshole son. Get out of here. And bring Amy and Bobby back with you at...six minutes after. And don’t fucking mess with me, cunt. Just do what you’re told.”
She blinked, looked like she might argue, reconsidered. Instead the bitch slid out of her panties, used them to mop her wet cunt before dropping her skirt and then rubbed the panties in my son’s face. He inhaled and moaned before she dropped them to the floor and left the kitchen.
“Put your fucking robe on.” Alan looked like he might argue, but like his wife, the slut cunt whore, reconsidered. If you didn’t look at his knees and calves and how bare and sleek they were you’d never know he wasn’t the same hairy stud I’d raised. But I knew. Now. “And stop playing with yourself!”
He did, but it didn’t do anything for the way his robe was pushed out.
I looked at the nigger kid in his carrier. Still happily naked, with his legs up in the air. Which got me to thinking. Bobby had just turned nine. So he’d been about seven when that fucking bastard turned his asshole into, well, I guess I fucking had to admit it, a pussy. And Amy was six. Christ! That nigger had been fucking my baby granddaughter when she was four! I had this disgusting image in my head of thick nigger meat spreading her little cunt wide, making a ripple in her belly so you could feel the cock inside her if you put your hand on her belly, or squirming, howling, as nigger cock was fed into her asshole.
So how long was Jerome going to wait before he fucked his nigger baby. Three? Two? Sick motherfucker.
My cock oozed a little precum.
“Tell me the rest.”
Alan started to reach inside his robe, caught my glare and stopped. He started telling me how he’d wound up in this fix, his eyes closed, remembering, and even though his robe covered his dick again, I could see the start of a precum stain.