OU LIKE THIS, GRAMPA?
Incest Tales 19

By DannyR  (M/b, MM/b, M/t, t/b, oral, anal, incest)
Copyright 2009-2010.  All rights reserved.


Author’s Reminder:  Don’t forget that 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 cops for the harshest penalties the law allows. After that, well, hopefully everything Law and Order and the news say is true about child molesters in prison, is really true.  Now that we’re clear on what’s what, and what’s not, read on.

THANKS:  To “charlie the drifter” who wrote a M/g story with this general plot (sorry, no spoilers) and got me so turned on I had to do a M/b version...which kind of got expanded.  So to the extent you like...and cum on/over/because of...this story, you have Charlie to thank.


DO YOU LIKE THIS, GRAMPA?

“Grampa, do you like me doing this?”  

Well, fuck, like my moans and holding his head still with my hands so I could fuck his little slut mouth couldn’t give him his answer.  Timmy is worse than my Rottweilers when it comes to needing praise!  With John and Holmes (yeah, yeah, I know, but together they’ve got him way beat) some ear scratching, or head or belly rubbing would do the trick.  But Timmy needs to hear it.

“Yes, baby boy, grampa loves what you’re doing to his dick with your pussy mouth.  Now start sucking grampa’s meat again!”

My own damn fault, actually.  I was too verbal when I trained him.  But shit, Timmy’s my first.  Well, not my first little boy.  I got my dick buried in a young boy’s ass when I was thirteen.  Johnny was six and I was babysitting him.  I’d figured out I was queer about four years earlier, but never got to do anything about it.  That was back in the “olden days” when there wasn’t any internet, so my chances to see naked men and boys were pretty limited.  Occasional toilet views when my dad or grampa or uncle took me when we were out somewhere and one of us just had to go.  Changing rooms at the public pool.  Changing rooms and the pool at the Y.  I fucking loved the Y.  Naked men and boys changing and swimming together.  I was giving myself dry cums all the time, whenever I could get a moment alone.

All I was doing, though, was jacking.  Little boys are generally pretty good at figuring that out for themselves without any instructions.  But I didn’t have a clue that there was anything else you could do.  And my family (the male part) sure as hell wasn’t doing any show and tell.  Everything changed when I was eleven.  At the Y.

I was old enough to go alone, but it wasn’t like I could just stay there all day in the pool area (the only place you could be naked) storing up cock images in my head for later jacking, so I had definite time limits.  This particular day it was getting close to the time I had to leave, and it wasn’t a good idea to be late getting home since the later I was, without a very good, very believable excuse, the more my butt paid the price.

Anyway, as I got out of the pool I noticed the two naked “red” brothers leaving.  My name for them in my mind.  No idea who they were.  Both redheads, the really bright kind, they looked a lot alike and they were always there at the same time, and always left at the same time.  So they had to be brothers, with big brother looking out for little brother.  The older one was maybe fourteen or fifteen.  Bright soft pubes around a nice cock, with a bit of bright pit hair, too.  The younger one was maybe five or six.  So on this day they were walking ahead of me down the hall from the pool to the changing room, apparently not noticing I was behind them.

And the older one turned left at one of the two cross halls you passed, which was definitely not the way for two naked boys to get to the changing room.  Or he tried to.  The little one sort of yanked, and halfway struggled to get his hand free from his brother’s and whined, “Brian, I don’t wanna.”

Hey, I recognized that whine.  I’d used it myself.  Of course, only when I was a little kid, like him.  The whine that says you don’t want to do whatever it is you’re complaining about, but acknowledges you’ve done it before and probably enjoyed it, and might even enjoy it this time, but you were in a mood to be a little shit and cause problems.  Brother Brian predictably dealt with it much like my dad would have...a hard hand yank back that made the little one stumble as they turned the corner and went out of sight.

I was going to just walk on by and ignore them, but when Brian started a harsh whisper I got curious, and stopped, and quickly edged up to the corner.  “Look, brat, he’s waiting and you know how pissed he gets if we’re late.”

“But it hurts.”

“Jesus, kid, you know it’s only for a little bit.  And then it gets all better and you like it a lot.  Right?”

They were meeting a man who’d be pissed if they were late?  Something would hurt but then it would feel better?

“But, Brian....” The kid’s voice was getting louder, and then there was a little grunt.  I recognized that one, too.  The kind of kid-grunt you give when your relative is irritated and shakes you to make that point.  Which is pretty much the point at which you shut up.

“Look, how about this?  I’ll give you one of the dollars.”

“You will?  Just for me?  You won’t take it back?”

“Yeah, yeah.  All yours.  I’ll tell ma you found it, okay?”

I recognized that silence, too.  A little boy’s dazed vision of all that wealth...and if he was anything like me when I was little, imagining a candy store.  Hell, my allowance was only  twenty-five cents a week and I didn’t get it if any of my chores weren’t done on time.  The kid must have nodded or something, because Brian, still pissed off, just said, “Fine!  C’mon.”

Even back then I was smart enough to know that if I peeked around the corner and they happened to be looking, they’d know I’d seen or heard something.  So I just walked past the intersection and casually looked to my left.  Neither one was looking back.  I saw Brian stop, turn the handle on a door on their right, push the door open, almost shove his little brother through, and then he followed.  Since I hadn’t been noticed I stopped just long enough to watch the door swing...almost...shut.  And then I walked on toward the changing room.

But I only got a few steps closer when I realized my butt would have to take the risk of not being able to hold me up if I tried to sit down.  I turned around, went back to the intersection, turned right and tiptoed toward the door they had gone into.  Which was kind of stupid.  I was a naked eleven year old boy with a hardon for some reason, and my bare feet on the tile weren’t exactly going to make huge thudding noises.  I was in luck.  The door hadn’t shut all the way.  I took that as a sign that God was with me, since if He didn’t want me to know what was going on, He would have made sure the door was not only shut but locked.

But He hadn’t.  So following the orders of Divine Will, I carefully pushed the door open just a little.  When there was no outcry from what looked like a kind of dimly lit room beyond, I quickly pushed it open enough to slide in, avoiding bashing my dick, and then shut it behind me, but still leaving it barely ajar in case I had to make a quick exit.  There were some windows, tinted and dirty, but letting in enough light that I could see I was in some sort of storage room.  A fairly big one.  And I could see a brighter light outlining a tall set of shelves.  I headed toward it, stopped when I got close.

I heard noises first.  A grunt, and a whimper, and an odd wail, and not of a kind I recognized.  Though in later years I’d come to know the sound of a tiny boy getting a big man cock worked into his pussy.  I carefully peeked around the edge of the shelves just as a man with a deep voice said in a harsh whisper, “Relax your cunt, you little whore.”

More than fifty years and I still remember that image.  A vid clip burned into my mind.  There was a low-watt light bulb hanging overhead that was just enough to light the three of them up like a spotlight, while the rest of the space around them was shades of grey fading off into darkness.  Little brother was on all fours on a low table, head to my left, plump little butt to my right.  The man behind him had his head bent, putting his face in shadows, looking down at the almost-joining of his huge man meat and that tiny boy’s pussy.  At that moment, when he was pausing, I had no idea how much of his dick was already inside the kid, but Christ his meat was huge.  The shaft was thick and veined and shining with grease or oil or whatever and it was so damned long.  The man was big, too, stocky, really hairy.

The boy was whimpering, his face screwed up in pain, but damn if he didn’t have his dollar bill clenched tight in his little left hand.  No one was gonna fuck with his pay for renting out his pussy.  Brian was kneeling in front of his brother, his right hand slowly jacking a thin cock, maybe four or five inches.  His head was down, too, but I could tell he was staring at the bizarre (well, to me at that point in my life) man cock in kid cunt sight.  The man grabbed the tiny boy by the waist and shoved his hips.  The kid wailed and Brian immediately stopped jacking and clamped his hand over his little brother’s mouth.

Fuck.  The man still had a couple of inches left outside.  “Why don’t you fuck the little slut’s mouth, kid?  That’ll shut him up.”

“C...can I?”

The man lifted his head, obviously in surprise.  He was still mostly in shadow, but I could sort of see it was deeply lined, and he had a thick mustache.  “You’re whoring out your five year old brother and you’re not using him, too?”

Brian sounded almost embarrassed when he said, “He won’t let me.  He says he’ll tell.”

The man let out a snort of suppressed laughter. He grabbed the little boy’s hair and yanked, arching the kid up and back.  He had a little boy belly and a very, very stiff little dickie.  He yelped in pain.

“You like having money to spend, kid?”

“Y...yes,” the tiny boy whimpered.

“So if your brother gives you a nickel, you’ll suck him off, won’t you?”  That was said with another yank.

The boy’s “yes” was almost a shriek.

“And if he gives you a dime, he can fuck this hot little pussy of yours, just like I’m doing.”  It wasn’t a question, and the boy whimpered his agreement.

“And what do you call a boy who sells his pussy mouth and his pussy ass?”

“I...I don’t know.”  The boy was crying by that time and I was so turned on I could hardly stand it.

The man let go of the boy’s head and the kid dropped back on all fours. The man pulled his fat, greasy, shiny white cock almost all the way out and when he rammed it back in really hard he said, “You’re a whore, baby boy.”  He slapped the little boy’s rump with his left hand and when he lifted it, the skin was bright red.  “A fucking cheap whore, kid.”

The man started pounding the little boy’s pussy and I suddenly realized that I had a pussy, too.  Just one that had never had anything in it besides turds.  Brian moved in, lifted his little brother’s head and slid his teen dick into the five year old’s mouth.

“You took a dollar from me so I could fuck your hot little cunt, kid.  And your brother here is gonna give you a nickel later, once he gets change, for sucking him off like a good little whore boy.  You really want to tell your mom and your dad how you sell yourself to men like me, to your brother?  Why, I bet your brother is gonna start pimping you out to his friends, and to other men.  Make lots of money off your pussy holes.  Yeah, that’d make your dad real proud.  Sure, go ahead and tell him, he’ll probably rape your little ass and then toss you out on the street so you can sell your boy holes on a street corner with the rest of the street whores.”

They were fucking him hard from both ends, tears streaming down the little one’s face, but he wiggled and grunted and moaned and I could tell he was cumming dry, shit, a fucking five year old was dry cumming just like I did, fuck, better than I did at eleven, and then Brian was panting and heaving and cumming down his brother’s throat, so much cum shooting out that it was overflowing, and the man threw his head back so the light was shining on it and I just knew he was pumping man juices up inside the baby boy whore cunt.

And then I started grunting as my rapidly jerking hand brought me to my own dry cum, a better cum than I’d ever had before.

Mistake.  Big mistake.  Huge.  Because I wasn’t supposed to be there.  This was secret.  The three fuckers froze and all turned their heads to look at me...well, the little one did after his older brother slid his shiny softening cock out of the kid’s throat.  The man ripped his cock out of the boy hole and turned toward me, the meat still almost full hard, white cum dripping out of his piss slit.  What they were looking at was a skinny naked eleven year old boy, with his hand on his still hard boy meat, his face fortunately in shadows.

“C’mere, son,” the man said to me.

I wanted to.  All sorts of images flashed through my mind.  Me being in the little boy’s place, getting fucked at both ends.  Me fucking the man, the older brother, best of all the tiny boy’s butt.  But I panicked, turned and ran.  Ran to the changing room.  Didn’t bother with a shower, just got my clothes, got into them as fast as I possibly could and got the hell out of there.  The walloping I got for being so late, though, was worth it.  I even got a hardon while it happened, and that was a first.  I’ve never known if Dad realized it.

I was banned from the Y for a whole week, a week I spent jacking off until my dick was sore, with images of what I saw, and images of what I fantasized about.  When I was finally allowed to go back I was certain I’d see Brian and his whore brother.  I even had a nickel and a dime I’d removed from my little horde of saved-up allowance.

But I never saw them again.  No matter how hard and how often I looked.  I never saw the man there again, either, though I think if I had I might have offered myself to him, free of charge, just to see what the little boy felt like on the receiving end of that huge cock.  But I did see the man once, about six or seven months later.  In the newspaper.  A picture of him, and a woman, and two young boys on a beach.  The caption talked about Mayor Alan Reynolds, his wife Elaine, and sons, Alan, Jr., eleven, and Michael, five, on vacation.  He wasn’t wearing a boxer type swim suit, the other type, with a nice bulge.  I wondered if Alan and Mikey got to play with that bulge.

Looking back, I’m sure that there was plenty of adult fucking and sucking going on at the Y both then and in the following years, maybe even some boy fucking and boy sucking, but I never saw any of it.  But damn I sure jacked to the mental images which always remained clear and crisp.  I was too scared, though, for some reason, to ever do anything about it, though there were probably times at the Y or other pools or even some toilets when something might have happened if I’d just been paying attention.

But then, two days after my thirteenth birthday, I was asked to babysit six year old Randy down the street.  And found what I’d been waiting for all my life.  A plump baby boy who turned out to be eager to learn how to suck my barely teen meat...in return for a nickel.  Two weeks later, I fucked his hot little hole...and gave him a dime afterwards.

I came back from my memories, and looked down at little Timmy, his five year old mouth swallowing grampa’s meat all the way down.  He loves to please his grampa.  And why shouldn’t he?  He owes me. I’ve fed him, and clothed him, and wiped him, and disciplined him, and played with him, and loved him, and hell, yeah, molested him for almost his whole life. His cunts are fucking mine...for fucking.  Not that I begrudge the money I’ve spent on him, or will spend on him in the future.  And it’s unlikely his parents are going to suddenly chip in on the expenses of raising a little boy.

My son is a shit.  I tried to raise him better but he’s into partying and drinking and drugging.  His wife was no better.  Promiscuous slut.  Hell, I don’t even know for sure Timmy is actually related to me by blood, but at this point I’m certainly not going to get DNA tests to find out.  The slut got knocked up and wanted to abort, but I put a stop to that.  I told my son he was thirty five and finally had to fucking man up and take care of his kid. Which to him meant letting her do all the work.

That lasted all of thirteen months, until she cleaned out the one large and two small bank accounts he was stupid enough to let her have access to, had a moving company clear out the condo, and left him the divorce papers with the babysitter.  Him being responsible for the boy on his own lasted two months.  He showed up at my office one morning...my fucking office...with the baby in one arm, and two huge bags of what-the-fuck-ever in his right hand.  Gretchen naturally let him walk right on in, after, I’m sure, the obligatory cooing and baby talk, completely ignoring for perhaps the second time in her career, my instructions that I was not to be disturbed, especially not before warning me I was about to be disturbed if that indeed had to happen.

He dropped the bags on the floor, walked over to where I was standing by the window looking out over the city. Well, not really “over the city.”  I had been using a pair of very expensive, very powerful binoculars to look into the office building across the street, one floor down, at Guido Monteleone, an investment banker of my acquaintance who gets serviced by one of his employees about that time every day.   That day it was a kind of scrawny mailroom type of kid who was naked and bent over Guido’s desk, while that fat, dark-skinned, Italian stick pounded his teen cunt.  In my mind, the boy being fucked was perhaps only eleven, maybe ten, and as soon as I could see Guido cum in the boy, and then eat the kid’s hole out, I was planning a quick jack and cum in my private bathroom.  A plan all fucked to hell when John walked in.

I don’t think he even noticed the binoculars that I dropped on the sofa next to the window, much less the hardon straining my slacks since I was commando as usual.  Instead, he thrust Timmy at me and said, “Dad, I can’t handle this right now.”

He clearly saw my expression at my grandson being called a “this” and handed over to me like an unwanted package or something.  “Look, sorry, I just mean, I’m not ready for this...” he waved his hand “...being a father.  I need to, to, to...get my act together.  Figure things out.  You can take care of him, can’t you, dad?  Just for a while.  A little while.  A couple of weeks.  A month, maybe.  Just till...just till, I, uh, figure things.”

At that point it had been, what, thirty-four years or something since I had a baby boy in my arms?  Timmy felt...right.  Natural.  Like he belonged there.  My hardon definitely agreed.  A hardon which John finally noticed.  His eyes widened and his mouth dropped open.  I remembered that mouth, though it had been decades since I’d used it.  Or his other hole.  He said he wanted to stop, and I did.  We never talked about it after that.  I made sure he never knew about the other boys after that, especially the ones who were his close friends.  When he finally managed to drag his eyes away from my crotch and up to my face he was blushing and nervous.  Yeah, my son remembered my meat.

“Uh, dad, uh, look, what we...well, what we did, uh, it wasn’t uh, well....”  He paused, licked his lips, and just blurted out, “Just leave him alone, okay?  Don’t...don’t do anything to him.”

“Like what, John?   What do you think I’m going to do to my baby grandson that you don’t want me to do?”

He was a bright red and wouldn’t look at me.  “Just...stuff.”

“What stuff?”  My voice was so innocent sounding.

“You know what stuff, dad.  Goddamnit!”

“Sorry, son.  But I’m not following.  Although, if you’re afraid...here, maybe it’s better if you keep Timmy.”  I started to give the boy back to him and he backed up a step.  “Tell me, John.”

“Damn it, dad.  Okay.  Dick stuff.  There, you satisfied?  Don’t do any of your...uh...dick stuff with him.”

“Like...oh...maybe teaching him how to suck his grampa’s dick and swallow grampa’s seed?  Licking and fingering his pussy, teaching him how to take grampa’s dick in his tight little cunt so that when he’s old enough to talk he can scream with pleasure and beg me to fuck his little twat hard?  That kind of...dick stuff ?”

Yeah, exactly the “dick stuff” John was talking about.  And remembering.  I could see in his eyes the memories of the number of times he’d begged to have his boy pussy fucked by his daddy, and just how many dry cums he had from my thrusting meat.  He didn’t even have the guts to say it out loud, just nodded.

“Well, son, if you’re afraid of my doing dick stuff with little Timmy, you definitely shouldn’t leave him with me while you’re...uh, what was it you said?...figuring things out?  A good father wouldn’t leave his tiny baby boy with a man who’d do something like that to the kid, would he?  Yeah, you need to take him back.”  This time I actually held Timmy out to John, though I was careful to support him so that there was no chance of dropping him.

Another fucking step back.  What a fucking surprise.  I pulled Timmy back to me. “So, you’re okay with me taking care of your precious boy?”

John nodded.  I wasn’t having any of that timid shit.  “Say it.”

“It’s...it’s okay.”

“Okay if Timmy likes doing dick stuff with his grampa?”

“But he’s too young to know....”  The protest was faint, timid.  Clearly the last one.

“But he can be taught, can’t he?  Trained?”

John’s shoulders slumped.  “Yeah.”

“So you’re okay with leaving Timmy with me while you get your fucking act together?  Knowing I’m going to molest him?  Teach him to swallow his grampa’s cum?  Teach him how to use his boy cunny to pleasure his grampa’s meat?”

He lowered his head so he wouldn’t have to look at me, to actually admit while looking me in the eyes that he was a wimp who refused to take care of his own boy, so he was just going to turn him over to a man he knew would start molesting his son as soon as the door closed behind his sorry ass.  Only I wasn’t going to let him get away with that.  As soon as the soft, submissive “yes” was out of his mouth I told him to go lock my door.

He looked up and gaped.  Almost manned up and walked out.  Surprise, sur-fucking-prise, he didn’t.  He locked the door, came back.  I told him to open Timmy’s diaper.  He did.  We looked down at the tiny baby boy in my arms, his wet diaper flopping open, his baby cocklet and bald boy balls open and visible.  “Have you done any...dick stuff...with Timmy?”

His “no!” was mostly appalled at the idea, but deep down where he either didn’t know it existed, or where he didn’t want me to see, there was this hint of regret.  

“Well, I’ve always believed a daddy should be the first one to molest his son.  So lean over and suck Timmy’s dick.  I want to be able to tell him who gave him his first blowjob.”

The asshole didn’t even have the balls to object.  He just did as he was told.  Not with any great initial degree of expertise, but considering how many times I’d used his tiny boy mouth, the muscle responses came back quickly.  He started licking and slurping the bare boy flesh, and even upside down I could see how tiny Timmy was enjoying his daddy sucking his little cocklet.  

“Now get your fuck finger wet and get it up inside his pussy.”

“No!”  This time his voice was stronger, but I knew it wouldn’t last. 

“Oh, I’m not going to ask you to fuck your precious baby boy’s cunt, John.  I get to take my grandson’s cherry.  But you are going to finger fuck him and suck him off.”

“But he can’t....”

“Oh, but he can.  Don’t you remember?”

He looked at me, his expression denying what I said, what I implied.  But he couldn’t be certain what he’d done when I’d sucked his precious little dickie while he was so very young.  And he knew what happened when I sucked his tiny stiffie when he was old enough to be aware and remember.  His eyes told me he remembered those fantastic cums that sometimes even made him pass out.

John sucked off his baby boy.  Lapped and licked and slurped, and fingered the tiny hot boy cunt until finally my grandson fell off the cliff and had his very first dry cum at fifteen months.  When Timmy finally quieted down, I looked at my son, who was still on his knees.

“Now me.”

He looked up at me, at the baby in my arms, righteously defiant once again. But each moment of defiance was shorter than the one before.  My eyes told him I knew what the result was going to be.  His eyes told me he did as well.

“Get my cock out and suck me off, son, and make it a fucking good blowjob.”

Another defiant glare.  But all it took to wipe it away was to offer to return Timmy and let him take of care of his son.  He unzipped my slacks, hauled my meat out and buried my cock, right down to my damn pubes, in his throat.  Christ, that felt good.  Granted, there is nothing like a tiny boy sucking your prick, especially if he manages to deep throat it, but having your own son, your fucking thirty five year old son, on his knees deep throating your dick because he had no choice was a turnon that almost matched up to boy sucks.  I looked over my shoulder and down through the floor to ceiling glass at Guido’s office.  No question he could have seen me had he been looking.  So could the offices on the floor directly across the street, the floors above, at least a couple of them.  Looking in on a man in his fifties standing next to the window, holding a naked baby in his arms, another man on his knees avidly sucking the standing man’s dick.  How hot was that?

Sooooo fucking hot to take the risk that anyone who saw me would be a pervert like me, turned on by what he was watching, and not likely to report my cocksucking son and his pervert father to the cops with a frantic 911 call.  I made myself keep my body still and not rudely and roughly face fuck my wimp son.  I cradled my precious grandson in my arms while my son sucked my prick, gradually working two hairy fingers into his tight boy pussy.  And within a few minutes I was losing my load down my son’s throat, and my finger fucking gave my baby grandson another dry cum.

John remembered his training, and the requirement that he clean my cock, no matter where it had been and what was on it.  When he was through, he tucked my cock back inside and zipped me up.  Although he stood up, he wouldn’t look at me.  That was fine.  I didn’t need to see his face to know what a submissive imitation of a strong man he was.

“Get the fuck out of here, John.  My lawyers will send you the paper work so that I have full custody of my grandson, and you will sure the fuck get that bitch’s signature as well.  And son, you do understand, don’t you, that while you’re way the fuck old for your daddy’s general tastes, from time to time I’m going to call you to come over and service me, to let me use your mouth cunt or your ass cunt while your baby boy watches?  And that if you fuck with me, or refuse, I’ll just give the boy back to you?”

He nodded, and when I told him he could leave, he crawled the fuck out.  Not literally, of course, but that’s what the fuck it was.

Christ, my son was a dumb shit.

He’d just turned his fifteen month old son over to his father, knowing the boy was going to be molested, turned into a little cum dump whore, knowing that I was going to be burying my grampa dick in my baby grandson’s hot tight fuck hole long and deep and often, knowing how much I loved sex with little boys, the younger the better, and he really believed my “threat” that I’d give up choice kiddy cunt if he didn’t obey me?

I came out of my memories and back to the present.

I looked down at his bobbing head, murmured, “My good cocksucking little grandson.”  I taught him what his grampa likes, and the little slut loves it.  Most of the time I don’t even have to order him to get to work on my meat.  He just asks if it’s okay to suck my dick.  Or asks me to fuck his little pussy.  Of course, he didn’t start out liking everything I taught him, but now my boy loves it all.
 
I held his little head in place while I started skull fucking him, thinking back to his early training.  Just fifteen months old when I laid him on my desk on his back the same day I acquired his holes, wondering if any of my “neighbors” across the street were watching and stroking as I dropped my dress slacks to the floor, tucked my shirt tail up, and then knelt, pulled him to the edge, raised his plump little legs and started licking his damp boy pussy.  He fucking loved it.  Loved it even more when I worked my tongue into his hole.

I stood up and moved him around so his precious little face and his moist plump lips were close to grampa’s meat.  So fucking hot.  Tiny, tiny baby boy head and face; large grampa meat being jacked off over it.  In an office where we could actually be seen if anyone was looking and how the fuck I hoped there were other men across the street, splattering their cum against their windows as I pumped faster and faster, and finally shot thick ropes of grampa seed all over his baby face.

He wasn’t too happy with the hot grampa sauce raining down on him.  Less so when I used my fingers to scoop up my cream and push it into his mouth.  Nope, my baby slut wasn’t a natural cocksucker with an immediate affinity for the taste of grampa’s cum.  But he learned.  Like Pavlov’s dogs.  From frequent repetition.

For the first month I brought him to work with me every day, in his own little carrier.  Of course I had to go through the ohs and ahs from the women, and the impressed looks from a few men, about what a loving grandfather I was, and the pissed off looks from some other men for showing them up with my devotion to the young baby that had almost been abandoned on my doorstep.

Equally of course , I was teaching him how to suck my cock.  By the end of the first week I had my knob and about an inch of shaft in his mouth and he was swallowing grampa’s hot heaping helping of spooge with as much eagerness as his bottle.  Hell, the slut in training even started out reaching for my dick whenever he saw me hard and close to him.  He wasn’t strong enough to jack me, but I taught him to hold on with this tiny, tiny hands while the head of my meat was in his mouth, and then with my hand over his I’d jack myself to a fantastic cum.  And he swallowed every bit of it, his hot little tongue licking his well fucked lips afterwards, looking for more.

I stopped the skull fucking and let him have control again, gently caressing my cum dump slut’s hair.  He knew he was getting me close, the little shit, so he stopped and tilted his head back so he could look up at me.  “I need my boi cunt fucked, grampa.  Is that okay?”

No words were needed as I leaned back in my chair and smiled at him.  He came out from under my desk, swiveling my chair around so that I was facing the windows (my little slut knows how much his grampa likes the possibility of someone watching him sex his tiny kid pussy), got up off his knees, clambered up on the chair with me, straddled me, reached behind to grab my leaking dick and began rubbing it up and down his little pussy slit coating it with my precum.

Grinning at me he slowly lowered himself on my stiff meat, taking into his hot little fuck hole easily.  Such a well trained little slut boy. He loved having my cock in his tight little cunt, just like he had been having it ever since he was eighteen months old.  I grinned at this small boy who looked so delicate, so fragile, and who was such a damned slut for cock.  I’m still not sure how I managed to wait three whole months before starting to fuck him.

Maybe it was because it was so fucking hot to watch my grampa meat slide in and out of  my fifteen, then sixteen, then seventeen month old grandson’s mouth; how eager he had become for the taste of his grampa’s juices, how much he enjoyed being mouth fucked, doing his little boy best to swallow my whole cock just like he swallowed all of my cum.  But finally I decided it was time to show him the enjoyment of having his other hole molested.

It took a bit of effort, trying to do it in a way that would not hurt him too much, even if it was necessarily going to be a bit painful for him.  Omelets and broken eggs and all that.  Of course I’d been licking and sucking and tongue and finger fucking his virgin cunt since the moment he was turned over to me.  But even with three months of that work behind me, his virgin boy pussy was so fucking tight.

I moved him to the edge of the table, held his legs up with my left hand, and lubed first my cock and then his cunt.  He’d had one and two fingers up inside his fuck cavity before, and whimpered as usual when the second finger went in.  He’d never had three before that day, so there was a nice baby wail when I made a triangle of my first three fingers and worked them all the way in.  Then, still holding his little legs up, I lined up my knob with his pussy lips, nudged forward just to keep it in the right place, and then with my right hand stretched out on his shoulder to keep him from moving away, I slowly pushed my cock up into him.  He began crying, then screaming, louder and louder, with the pain of my big cock widening his cunt like he’d never dreamed possible so that my thick grampa meat could force its way up inside his formerly virgin pussy.

I held my cock deep inside of him, only about half way, his cunt muscles desperately squeezing, trying to get rid of the intruder but only making it all the more enjoyable for me.  After several minutes of waiting patiently until the screaming subsided into hiccups and whimpers, I began slipping my meat in and out as gently as I could.  Eventually, though, I was fucking his baby boy cunt smoothly, my dong and his hole greased up with lube and precum and a bit of blood (omelets again).

I fucked him for a long time, even though it was his first time and my first in a boy so young, and I could have spewed a second or two after burying my cock in his cunt.  But I kept control, stroking as slowly as I could, thoroughly enjoying his tightness and the incredible heat of his tiny cunt surrounding my cock.

I fucked him long enough that finally his little cunt stretched even more until it eased up enough that his body wasn’t fighting my molesting him and I could fuck more rapidly.  It went on and on until finally I couldn’t hold back any longer and spewed his first grampa load of hot cum up inside his little whore pussy.

After that it wasn’t long before he was taking my thick hardon up inside of him without the pain and the tears of the first few cunt fucks.  Christ, but I’d fucked his little cunny almost daily, and two or three times a day at that.   By the time he’d reached two and a half, just a year later, he loved being fucked even more than he loved sucking me.  It was so wonderful to see my little thirty month old sweetheart climbing up on my lap, and taking my cock, and sucking it until it was wet and then sitting on it.  All with just a little smile and a soft, “Okay, grampa?”

Now at five years old he spends a lot of time sucking his grampa’s cock and sitting on it, or laying on his back and raising his plump legs up and wide like I taught him, so I can slip my meat inside him and then fuck his still tight little cunt.  He takes every inch now.  Though he has for a little over two years since he wasn’t quite three when he first managed to get me balls deep.  He was so proud of his accomplishment!  And I gave him his very first rough, punishing fuck as a reward.

“Grampa, do you really like how I fuck you?”  His voice was shaky with the effort of rising and falling on grampa’s dong, but I reassured him as I always did.  I grabbed his little hips, held him still and power fucked him hard and deep for a little while.  Then let him take over again, and I could look down at my big meat sliding in and out of his baby boy hairless but oh so talented kiddy cunt.

And as he fucks his grampa’s gooey dick in and out of his baby whore hole, I’m thinking of actually letting some of my friends, my older friends, enjoy my little one’s youthful charms.  I’m sure they’d love to have a five year old suck their cocks and gulp down all their hot daddy juices and grampa juices, or feel his talented pussy muscles clamping and unclamping around their dicks as they fuck him, with me watching and jacking.   Roy in particular I’m sure hasn’t had his dick in anything live, other than his hand, for a long time.  Hot watching a grey haired thick dicked old nigger fucking my precious grandson!  Yeah, they’d fucking love him as much as I do.

But why wait?  I stood up, Timmy still impaled, laid him on my desk and then power fucked him into a quivering set of gasping dry cums before unloading a huge amount of cum in his hole.  When he regained consciousness I told him what we were going to do.  He grinned.

I called Guido’s office, and was put through immediately.  There aren’t many investment bankers who won’t get rid of other calls, office visitors, whatever, when they’re told Jack Heyward is on the line...personally, not some flunky playing one-up games.  Of course, his secretary or assistant or whatever was probably breaking some ironclad rule about Guido not being interrupted since I was calling him while watching him fuck the youngest of his mail boys.  I watched him stretch across the naked boy bent over his desk, his cock still buried in teen cunt, punch the line and pick it up.

“Guido.  Have I caught you at a bad time?”  I managed not to laugh.  A business call coming in when you were interested in coming in teen boy pussy, and your fat dago meat is still buried inside, is not exactly a good time.

“Not at all.”  Damn, he was good.  Didn’t sound strained or upset.  And still kept his cock in, though I had to wonder if it was getting a little soft.

I chuckled.  “Guido, I know you’re a busy man, probably deep in...something...at the moment.”  I smiled when his hips involuntarily thrust forward into the boy.  “If you could give me just a couple of minutes, literally just that, I think you would find our conversation quite worthwhile.  Although it should be on a secure line.  May I call you right back on yours?”

I watched him nod at me as he gave me the number and hung up his phone.  I waited just a moment to see what he would do.  He started pumping the naked boy’s scrawny ass, head down, watching a second phone on his desk.  I called from my own secure line.  He picked it up on the first ring, but didn’t flip on the video screen.

“Guido, the reason I’m calling is I’ve been wondering for a while whether you’ve fucked any boys younger than the one you’ve got your dick in right now.”

That shocked the shit out of him.  He started to say something, probably a “what the fuck?” or a denial, but I interrupted.  “This isn’t a sting, Guido.  I’ve been watching you for years.  Jacking while you fucked all those young men and then ate out their cunts.  Turn on your screen, even if you don’t turn on the camera.”

He did and although I obviously couldn’t see his face, I’m sure he was shocked at the sight of a naked Jack Heyward, sitting at his desk, visibly jacking a very large hardon.  “You brave enough to turn on your cam?”

My gamble paid off.  He did.  The teen had turned his head toward the screen and his hand was under his body, obviously playing with his dick.  So fucking hot.  The kid obviously thought the same thing about my meat.

“Satisfied you’re not being set up by the cops?”

“Yes.”

“Good.  So like I said, I’ve been watching and jacking for about five and a half years.”  His eyes widened.  “From my office, directly across, one floor up, though I’m obviously away from the windows right now.  And I’ve noticed that the ones you fuck have gotten younger over the last year or so.  That kid.  He’s what, twelve?”

Guido sort of laughed.  “Fifteen.”

“And a late bloomer.  Nice small dick, no pubes.  A hot little fuck, isn’t he?”

Guido managed a nod.  Though he seemed to be regaining control.  The two of them were watching me jack, and only Guido could hear what I was saying.

“I like hot little fucks like that, too.”

Definite relaxation at that moment.  He was undoubtedly pissed about the spying...six fucking years!...but knowing Jack Heyward was into sex with young boys was a dual turn on for him.  First because any pedo gets hot finding a new pedo friend.  Second because he figured that kind of knowledge might get him some subtle advantages if...although Guido was not stupid enough not to understand that “if” here was actually now “when”...we did business together.

I stared at him, licked my lips, rubbed my thumb over the copiously leaking piss slit.  “I like them younger than that, too.  A fucking lot younger.  You?”

After another hesitation, he nodded.

“What’s the youngest you’ve molested?”

He winced at my choice of words, probably used to convincing himself that wasn’t what it was, and then mouthed “eight” at me.

I nodded back.  “Five for me.  Today.”

Guido is no fool.  His eyes widened only a little as he picked up on the fact that my specification of five as that day’s age limit meant I’d had even younger boys.

“You think you and your friend might like to share some five year old kiddy cunt with me today?”

“I...I don’t know.”

“Put me on speaker.”  He leaned forward and did.  “Hey, pussy boy!”

The kid jerked his head toward me.

“You like getting used by adults?  Getting your cunt fucked by men a lot older than you?”

His turn to hesitate, then a tiny nod.

“Tell me, pussy boy.”  My voice was hard and commanding.

Eyes frozen on my jacking hand, he said, “I...I like being used by men.  I like cock in my...my cunt.”

“You like it when the men pretend you’re even younger than you are?”

“Yeah.”

“That going on today?”

“Uh huh.”

“So how old are you today?”

He twisted his head to look up at Guido, who nodded an “okay.”  “Seven.”

“Hot.”  I nodded with approval and the teen smiled.  “You ever fuck anything that young yourself?”

He shook his head.  “Like to?”

Deer in the headlights time.  What’s the younger generation coming to?  Where’s the honesty?  He’s naked, bent over a desk with fat old Italian meat fucking him, he’s been roleplaying that he’s only seven and getting off on it, and now he’s afraid to tell the obvious truth?

Guido reached under his chest with both hands and clearly twisted the teen’s tits.  Damned hard.  He squealed loudly and grunted in pain.  “Tell him.”

“Yes!  Ah, God, that hurts!  Yes, yes, I’d love to fuck a tiny boy.”

“Even if he was only...say, five?”

The teen’s eyes flew wide and his mouth dropped.  But he answered with a near-whispered, “Fuck, yeah.”

“How about you, Guido?  Think it might be hot to have that hot dago dick buried in five year old whore boy cunt, while your buddy there skull fucks the baby slut?”

He nodded.  The steady fucking of the teen’s pussy told me he was fucking turned on, as did the taut expression on his face.

“Timmy!” I called.  My naked grandson came from behind my large leather chair into view of the camera.  He clambered up on my lap, kneeling on my thighs, his hands bracing on my hairy chest.  I reached behind him and spread his baby boy cheeks, so the camera could get a good view of his gaping, puffy, freshly fucked boy cunt, oozing my slime.

“How soon can you get here?”

“Not soon enough,” Guido said as he yanked his meat out of the teen who was gaping, his mouth open and wide, at my little one’s oh so well molested pussy.

I turned the phone off, called Gretchen to tell her to take the rest of the day off.  She fussed as usual, but as usual did as she was told.  I pay her too much for her not to obey.

Surprisingly, it was less than ten minutes before Guido and his boy toy were at my door.  Surprising because I knew Guido was astute enough to require the teen to exit his office before he did and get well away from there before he finally left, but I guess a chance to molest a five year old while the kid’s own grampa watched and helped was worth taking risks and rushing.  Since I was naked and hard when they walked in, just like Timmy, the pair practically ripped their clothes off in order to join us.

Timmy’s eyes got really, really wide when he saw the size of Guido’s cock.  Sure, my little cum dump has watched lots of big cocks going into little boy pussies, since I have one of the best boy kiddy porn collections on the planet, but so far he’d only been sexed by his grampa.  I’d decided that was going to change.  Guido was nowhere near as long as me, but fuck! he was a hell of a lot thicker.

A hell of a lot thicker.

“Timmy, this is Uncle Guido.  Say ‘hi’ to your uncle, little one.”

“H...hi, uncle Guido.”

Guido nodded back, grinned and fisted his slime-leaking meat.

“Timmy, I’ve decided to let other men and boys molest you, just like grampa does.”  Timmy’s eyes got very, very wide at he looked at the three hardons in my office.

“How old are you, Timmy?” Guido asked.

“F...five,” my little one said nervously.

“Fine. That’s fine.  I’ve never had a five year old boy slut to rape.”  Timmy glanced nervously toward me.  He was a smart little boy.  He knew the word rape from some of the kiddy movies we’d watched together.  He got a little pale when he saw my smile.  My horny, fuck but I’m gonna enjoy this smile.

Guido saw the smile, too.  Asked, “Limits?”

I smiled an I know what you’re up to fucker smile back at the dago. He had no idea whether this was a one time thing or whether he’d get into my baby grandson’s talented cunt again.  In case it was the former, he clearly wanted to enjoy himself to the max.  I had no problem with that.  “No permanent damage, no visible signs.  You stop the moment I tell you to.”

Guido agreed with all the solemnity of finalizing a fifty billion dollar hostile takeover.

Then he walked over, picked Timmy up so he was slung over Guido’s hip, went to the couch, set Timmy on it...Timmy wobbled a bit but stayed standing as his feet sank a little into the soft leather, his dickie still hard.  “On all fours, pussy boy!” he almost snarled.

Timmy looked over to me as if to ask what he should do.  Guido’s thick hand came down hard on the boy’s plump buns, the smack! loud in the office, almost knocking the kid forward.  My cock spurted precum as Timmy wailed and put one hand back on the bright red imprint on his butt.  

“Your grampa said I could molest you, slut.  So you do what I tell you, not look at your grampa for permission.  You understand?”

“Y...yes.”  His voice was soft, and a little scared...but his cocklet hadn’t gone soft.

“Yes, what?”

Timmy looked puzzled for only a moment, then decided between his two options.  “Y...yes, Uncle.”

“Put your hand back.”

Timmy moved his left hand so he was on all fours again.  So fucking hot watching that thick arm, covered in silver-black hair, stretch out, the large hand caressing tiny Timmy’s pale body, stroking down the kid’s left side, then reaching under to obviously grasp and fondle the baby hardon.  And then he shoved two fat hairy fingers into my grandson’s cunt.

“Grampa!” my little one wailed, and Guido yanked the fingers out, slapped the boy’s butt with his right hand and shoved the fingers back in.

I couldn’t believe how turned on I was.  Yeah, I’d read the stories at Nifty and elsewhere about fathers, grandfathers, uncles, whatever, getting turned on by turning the little boy over to another man, several men, a group.  Yeah, I’d watched the kiddy porn videos of young boys getting gangbanged while “daddy” watched and jacked.  But if I’d known how turned on I’d get by choosing someone to molest my precious grandson I’d have done it a long fucking time ago.

It got even better.

Guido didn’t bother to turn his head to see if I was watching.  He was a smart man.  He knew fucking good and well that if one pedo lends his little boy to another, the lender is going to be watching and jacking.  Watching as Guido held onto the boy’s waist with his right hand, used his left so I could easily see as he seated his wide meat between my baby boy’s pussy lips.  Watching as he held the boy by his waist and then raped his dong into that tiny, tight, hot little hole.  Timmy wailed!  Not as much as if he’d been a virgin, but in my mind he was.  In my mind, and out my mouth.

“So fucking, fucking hot to watch my virgin three year old grandson get raped.”

Guido didn’t blink.  “Yeah, Jack, you were a fucking shithead for getting in so deep with me.  Asshole motherfucker not smart enough to know that if I don’t get cash I get paid anyway.  Christ, I love baby boy pussy.  Shove my fucking man meat into his cunt, especially the little ones, the two and three year olds whose daddies or grampas give ‘em to me to molest and rape to pay a debt.  Listenin’ to the little sluts scream and wail and try to get away but once my fuckin’ dick is in a boy’s cunt it stays there until I yank it out.”

Guido’s eyes were alight with depraved lust.  Matching mine.  Fuck oh fuck oh fuck but I was almost ready to cum.  Guido was rough fucking, fantasy raping his very first five year old, my slut grandson, and we were fantasizing the kiddy cunt was virgin and three.  Guido snarled at the teen:  “Rape the baby cunt’s mouth!”

The teen almost broke something scrambling to get into place.  He lifted baby slut by the hair and rammed his teen dick into little Timmy’s whore mouth.  Fuck!  My precious kindergarten cunt was getting double fucked and he was shivering and silently wailing around the cock in his mouth as he went through dry cum after dry cum after dry cum.  Christ on a fucking crutch!  I needed a hole!

I got next to the fuck trio and decided on a power fuck.  Not the frenzied power fucking where you’re ramming the cunt so hard your balls hurt as they slap against the other body.  The kind of fuck based on the power to take what you want.  The kind of fuck Guido would understand...not necessarily like, since whether the fuckee liked it or not was hardly at issue for me (ever)...but definitely understand.

As Guido definitely understood when he felt the spit-wet tips of two fingers gently rubbing his asshole.  Yes, he’d gained some power when he learned I was a pedo who liked very young little boys, and was fucking my own five year old grandson.  Frequently.  But at the moment the power really rested with me, since it was only my permission that got him into five year old boy cunt.  And he knew that my fingering his hole meant I was asserting the power, the right, to use him like he was using little Timmy.  Which left him the option of refusing his ass, and thereby giving up the kiddy cunt he was buried in, or acknowledging my power.

He moved his hips so the lips of his man cunt pushed against my fingers.  I shoved two in as brutally as he had done to little Timmy.  I fingered his cunt roughly, yanked my fingers out and presented them to his mouth.   A barely perceptible wince and then he slicked them up.  I dropped some spit on my dick, fingered him with two fingers, then three, and then power-fucked my cock into his cunt.  He rewarded me with a loud part grunt part yell.  Then we got down to serious fucking.  Over the next hour or so, I had my cock in every other hole in the room.  Guido and the teen used each other and my whore grandson.  Hell, I even made Guido let the teen slut fuck his ass.  We finally wore ourselves out.

Guido, the teen and I were collapsed on the couch, sweaty, shiny, cummy little Timmy was cleaning us off with his tiny tongue when my private secure line rang.  I padded over to my desk.

My dumb shit son.  I almost didn’t answer it, but decided to shake him up.  The shithead rarely saw his son, and never bothered sexing him, though I was sure little Timmy would enjoy biological daddy dick at least once.  Let him get an eyeful of what his little boy was into, or more precisely, what had already been in his boy’s cunts today.  I punched the button and started to tell him to turn on his vidcam but stopped when I realized it was already on.

John was naked, sitting, holding a naked baby boy cradled in his left arm.  A tiny baby boy.  A nigger baby boy.  With a self-righteous smirk he said, “Hey, dad, you want to buy this son of mine, too?  So you can molest him like you’re molesting Timmy?”

Christ, what an idiot.  I could tell from the expression on his face that he was more than half-way hoping that he’d interrupted some important meeting, where I was surrounded by important people doing important things...who would be horrified by what he just said.  So horrified that they’d take me on and destroy me.  But he obviously hadn’t thought out the consequences to himself, though.  A clear admission that he’d knowingly sold his first son to a pedophile so the boy could be molested.  I’d educate him on that little issue later.  For now, he had my attention.

And my visible hardon.

He was so focused on his game plan...such as it was...that he hadn’t really looked at what his screen showed when I answered the phone.  As in his naked father, his meat dangling half hard, shiny with what he would have to recognize as streaks of cum and ass juices.  Considering the number of times, fuck, the countless number of times he’d licked and slurped on it after it had been in one of his holes. By the time he looked, I was already hard again.  What pedophile wouldn’t be hard, knowing he was being offered a new little boy to molest?

“How old?”

“S...six months.”

“And you’re just getting around to telling me?  Hard up for cash again?”

The blurted “No!” wasn’t quite convincing but I let it pass.

“Obviously not a child by your ex.  What’s going on?”

He started to speak, an almost incoherent babble as he realized his little game hadn’t worked and tried to move on to the money issue.  I raised a hand and he shut up.  “Here’s what we’re going to do.  You’re going to shut your eyes and keep them shut and answer my questions.  And while you’re answering my questions you’re going to get your little son....”

He’d already shut his eyes.  Fucking pussy.  “Jamal.”

“...your little son Jamal hard, and play with him.  Show me how you start out molesting a little boy.”

The submissive wimp did what he was told.  I gestured the others over so they could see what I was seeing...the vidphone uses my computer screen which is damned large.  I half expected Guido to hang back, out of sight of the camera that would show him on John’s screen if John opened his eyes, but damn if he didn’t want to be up close and personal.  We’d all thought we were too worn out by all the sex today to get hard again, but pedophiles offered an opportunity to watch a real father molest his real baby boy in real time was a definite dick stiffener.  

I already knew that my son hadn’t been keeping his dick in his pants over the past five years, any more than he had when he’d been married.  But shoving his dick into multiple high and low, sometimes very low, profile women hadn’t had any consequences.  Until now, as my questioning disclosed.  A while back, but not all that long actually, say about sixteen or seventeen months, he had a sudden urge to fuck nigger pussy.  He had a variety of them, some professionals, some society, some he’d just meet somewhere and con them into opening their homes and their legs for him.  Condoms for all, except the last one, who swore she was clean and on the pill and she really liked raw dick in her cunt.  The clean part was true, the pill was a lie.  After they’d fucked a few weeks he’d gotten bored and headed off to fuck his way through Europe.

He was gone a little over a year, and came back quietly.  So it had taken her a couple of months to track him down.  She’d showed up today, demanding money, child support, blah blah blah.  He told her he could get some money for her, but she’d have to give up parental rights, blah blah blah.  Not surprisingly, she agreed and he even talked her into leaving the boy with him.  Which led to the vidphone call to me.  So fucking predictable.

“Is Jamal actually yours?”

John smirked again, toying with the surprising little stiffie.  “Do you really care?”

That surprised me into a laugh.  “You’re right.  Except that you will acknowledge him as your own flesh and blood.”

He laughed, too.  “Sure, dad, whatever you say.”

I glanced at my fellow perverts.  Guido and the teen were dripping again.  Little Timmy...bright, bright little Timmy...was as lustfully focused on the screen as the adults in my office.  I wondered if he was wondering about the possibilities for him with a tiny baby brother.

“John, get your index finger wet and slide it all the way into my grandson’s tight little cunt.”

He did what he was told.  As expected.   Tiny Jamal wiggled and wailed and tried to get away from the invader in his poo poo hole, but to no avail.  I stroked my own leaking cock, but lightly.  John went ahead and finger fucked the little cunt, ignoring the whimpers.  And then pulled his finger out.  It was wet and streaked...and he just put it into his mouth and cleaned it off.  Precisely as he’d been taught all those years ago.  “Do you...do you want me to suck him off, d...daddy?”

“Like you did Timmy the day you sold him to me?”

Damn but Guido and his teen slut were getting an eyeful and an earful (and some cunts-full as well) today.  But if you can’t trust a fellow pedo to keep your pedo secrets who can you trust?  Of course the cameras recording both Guido and the teen whore cheerfully, indeed, enthusiastically molesting my precious baby grandson in my office would keep both of them in line if needed.

John nodded.

“No.  Don’t suck him.”

My obedient son just sat there, waiting for another command.  Although...an odd expression flickered across his face when I said “no.”

“Not now.  I think we’d all rather watch you do it in front of us.”

John is not quite submissive enough to keep his eyes shut after a statement like that.  He looked directly at his screen and blanched.  He’d been expecting, or at least expecting the possibility, of seeing his daddy’s hardon.  He hadn’t been expecting the hardons of a stocky Italian grandfather, a teen slut who barely looked twelve, or his own son, especially not with all of us looking as clearly well-fucked and well-sexed as we obviously were.  He was in a state of shock, which was, of course, fine with me.

“Timmy, would you like to have a little nigger baby brother  to fuck?”

My little slut looked up at me, his fingers not stopping their steady stroking of his little pricklet. “Really, grampa?”

I nodded at him and looked back at my son.  My naked, erect son.

“Now, John, here’s what’s going to happen.  You’re going to get dressed, just enough clothes to keep you from being stopped on the way over, and as soon as you come in the door, you and your little cunt in training are going to get naked.  And then while we take turns molesting Jamal, you’re going to service me, and Guido and teen slut here.  You’re going to give up your slut mouth and your used man cunt.  You’re going to blow your older son, too.”

“But, daddy....”

“Shut the fuck up, John.  When you’ve gotten us all good and horny, Timmy here is gonna fuck his baby brother Jamal. You guys think that’ll be fucking hot?  Watching five year old white boy dick fucking into six month old baby nigger boy pussy?”  The groans from around me said they agreed with me; the twitching of John’s meat said without words that at least his dick agreed as well.

“You, though, are not cumming until I let you.  If I fucking let you.  It depends on how well you service us, how eager you are.  But you are going to get fucked, John.  Probably by the three of us, whether we cum in your old cunt or not, but definitely by Timmy.”

John almost smirked at that but managed to control himself.  He could see, as could we all, that Timmy’s five year old cocklet wasn’t all that big, or long.  Hell, his tiny son would have trouble getting past John’s starting to flab out ass cheeks.  So...no big deal.

“Fist fucked, John.”

More groans from around me.  Fucking movies in all our minds of my naked wimp son on the floor somewhere in the office...the rest could dream, but I knew I’d put him on all fours parallel to the floor-to-ceiling windows, with tiny Timmy behind him.  His five year old boy greasing his daddy’s man cunt.  Not that it would need too much grease since there’d be plenty of cum inside already.  Working his baby boy fingers in his daddy’s slimy pussy, being gentle about it because he’s a nice little boy, but definitely cooperating when his naked grampa shows him how to put his thumb with his bunched up fingers to make a point, and then how it was only right that he just shove that little hand right inside his daddy’s hairy hole.  And start fucking.  I’d show him how to get in position so he could get inside papa’s pussy, all the way to his elbow, fucking his daddy like the cunt slut he’d always really been.  Show him how to get in position so he could get his whole goddamned baby boy arm inside John’s bowels.  So fucking hot watching my forty year old son get fist and arm fucked by his very own five year old son.

And a groan from my son.  A turned on groan.  And a gasp from John when I described just that scene to him.

“Get the fuck over here, you shithead!” I barked at him.

Again the look as he said, “Yes, daddy,” reached forward and clicked the phone off.  As I looked around at the other pedos in the room, thoroughly energized again like we had that bunny inside our holes working our prostates and semen factories overtime, I realized what the look was.  John wanted precisely what he was being ordered to do.  But as long as he could tell himself he was being forced into it by his domineering father who cruelly held the purse strings tight, he wouldn’t have to admit he was as much a goddamn pervert as his old man, and fucking had been all along.

By the time John got to my office, I knew what I wanted first and foremost.  Like the obedient slut he was going to be forevermore, John stripped tiny Jamal, set him on the somewhat slimy leather of the couch, and then practically tore his own clothes off.  I relived him of the baby boy burden by walking over, and picking up my new nigger grandson.

“Hey, Timmy, you still want to fuck your nigger baby brother?”

“Uh-huh!” he shouted.  His little stiffie clearly agreed with the plan.

I passed my slut in the making around the room so that John, Guido and the teen could slick up their fingers and fuck the hot little cunt a couple of times.  I grabbed up John’s clothes to make a kind of nest on the coffee table, then placed Jamal on his back, and leaning over, held his tiny fat little legs up and wide.  Christ, as of that moment I hadn’t seen anything hotter than a five year old white boy with a little hardon clambering up onto the table, positioning himself, and then ramming his boy meat into his six month old nigger baby brother’s pussy.

It was awkward for John to get his head down to my dick so he could suck me while all this was going on, but that wasn’t my problem.  He managed.  Guido and the teen were close to the fucking pair, jacking.

Timmy shoved his boy meat in tight and looked up at me, slightly panting from his exertions.  “Do you like this, Grampa?”

“Fucking right, you little whore.  Turning your baby nigger brother into a pussy boy just like you.”

He just nodded and went back to moving his hips.  The rest of us got down to the serious business of baby boy molesting.


    

Incest Tales 19_Do You Like This Grampa