OSMAN GOES TO MADRAS
A Thousand and One Tales of Osman the Pedophile

By DannyR  (MMM/b, oral, anal, extreme pedo)
Copyright 2009.  All rights reserved.


Authors Reminder:  Dont forget that inquiring authors want to know -- what did you think?  So when youre 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.

SPECIAL NOTE:  Read the special note in Osman Goes to Court. <g>


OSMAN GOES TO MADRAS

It was a bloody hot day that day in 93.  Really bloody hot.  Although I have plenty of reasons to remember that day, I remember the heat because of the Brit, the cabbie, and the song.  I was in Penang (Malaysia if you arent aware), at Bayan Lepas International Airport, heading to Madras (India), and I saw this Brit standing at the kerb, managing simultaneously to look stiff-upper-lip-old-chap stoic and aggravated that whoever he was waiting for hadnt arrived.  It was noon, as my cab pulled up.  Everyone who could, was inside the terminal.  Everyone who couldnt was standing as close to the terminal as they could get, in whatever shade was available, wearing as little as possible, and plainly wishing desperately that they were wearing nothing at all and damning British colonial imperialist fucking public nudity moral standards that had been forced up the countrys arse like suppositories and then absorbed.

He was average height and weight, round-faced, a plump little belly beneath his long-sleeved shirt, protruding above his dark slacks and wing-tip shoes.  His hair was sleek and molded to his skull and somehow you knew not one strand would dare to stray from its proper place.  Not a single drop of sweat on brow or lip or pit.  He had no hat.  What else could he be but Brit?

I hadnt enough money in my pocket to pay so I stepped out to lay my briefcase on the bonnet, pulled out a couple of bills and as I turned to hand them to the driver, I saw he was looking at the Brit.  When he turned his attention back to me and accepted the money, he grinned and said, Mad dogs.

And Englishmen, I agreed with a smile of my own.

It was only a minor, not really noticeable detour to the terminal entrance, to walk past him, not glancing at him of course.  As I started walking, I began singing quite, quite softly:

	In the Malay States 
	There are hats like plates 
	Which the Britishers won't wear. 
	At twelve noon 
	The natives swoon 
	And no further work is done. 
	But mad dogs and Englishmen 
	Go out in the midday sun. 

And just by chance, pure, unadulterated chance, of course, he heard at least the last two lines as I went by.  And flushed.

I gulped the somewhat cooler air indoors the way one gulps an iced drink a moment before heatstroke sets in, checked in for my flight and then strolled through the terminal.  I had made this flight, for business reasons and occasionally for pleasure a thousand and one (how appropriate) times, so I was quite familiar with the terminal, and its inhabitants, or at least those there with enough regularity to recognize and acknowledge someone they see often.  I was cheerful, polite, waved back or otherwise responded to those acknowledgments, and naturally ignored the armed guards strolling about.  They were on duty, and distracting armed men from their duty generally brings consequences.

A casual glance to verify no one was really paying attention to me, and I slipped down a narrow corridor between two shops, first right, second left, left and left, a few steps to a dead end with three doors.  One each on the sides of this corridor, the third at the end.  Set my briefcase down, leaned back against the wall beside the third door.  And waited.

But not long.

Ajib was obviously, quite, quite, quite obviously, willing to be distracted from his duty.  The enormous cock bulge in his uniform gave me my clue; his solemn, almost grim face, told me nothing.  As usual.  I am sure that when he cums inside me his face is just as expressionless.  Not that I have any way of knowing.  When he fucks me it is from behind, and any thoughts I might have about peeking over my shoulder to see his reaction to my tight, talented hole evaporate when he really starts pounding me.  When hes fucking my face, his hands hold my head precisely where he wants it and he is slightly bent over for better leverage so it would be an exercise in futility to roll my eyes up, unless as a prelude to passing out from excessive ecstasy or from simple lack of air when he rams deep.

No kisses.  No tenderness. No expectations.  Just a huge, hung soldier who usually, but occasionally did not, decide he needed a fuck break when I obliviously walked past him to signal my availability.  Or at least I tried from time to time to convince myself I was signaling something so casual.  Im here if you want me; if you dont, fine, maybe some other time.  Just an idea.  No big deal.  But he knew, I am certain, that what I was really signaling was a desperate need to have my cunt filled and fucked hard by his cock.  Perhaps the fact that my pussy was always lubed when I dropped my pants for him gave me away.

He pulled a key from the ring attached to his belt, stretched it out on its chain and unlocked the door to my left, his right.  A small storage room/closet, with a low watt bulb dangling overhead.  Ah, yes, I remember it well.  Hed used me in there before.  Holding the partly open door, he reached his left hand out, grabbed my package and squeezed.  I told myself that the sound I made was a manly grunt of lust.  It was actually a pussy bottom sluts groveling whimper that begged to have a full cunt soon.

He let me go and I entered in front of him.  Not being impolite...a pig bottom daring to precede his top!...but simple practicality.  Not much room to manoeuvre in there, so why not be in position.  Put my briefcase in an empty spot on a shelf.  Paused (but only internally) to wonder why that spot was always empty, despite the spilling-over fullness of everywhere else.  Did my Sikh buggerer requisition it; put an invisible no parking sign on it?  Or merely fuck the janitor who nominally controlled this room silly, to the point where hed agree to anything, especially if it got him a chance of another go at that magnificent meat.

Continued unbuckling, unbuttoning, unzipping during my musings.  Shoved pants and boxers down, thrusting my bum back a bit as I wriggled to get them around my ankles.  Normally I prefer commando, but in this situation (air travel and slut cruising at the same time) I needed something to absorb whatever might leak out if I got lucky.  Took off my light-weight (very) linen jacket.  Paused for real.  Realized.

Shit fuck shit fuck.

The boxes were stacked too high.  Perhaps not in the okay, men, lets go out there and clean and restock the hell out of the toilets sense.  But definitely so in a my man wants me bent over at the right height for fucking and this is so not it, sense.  Had my pussy not been clamoring so loudly for rich dark meat pounding it, I might have noticed sooner.  Might have had my pants up so that when I lifted the top box off and set it on the floor beside the stack, I could balance myself and move to the left to place it there.  Then repeat with the second box, leaving the reduced stack just fucking right.

Instead, Im naked from the waist down, holding my jacket in my right hand, my feet confined to that weird-ass shuffle men do when theyre in heat, like when you start out with your pants at your ankles, down on your knees sucking cock in front of the urinal, and you decide you really want to be fucked instead and have to penguin waddle to a stall while your cock source follows you.  I stretched and pushed the jacket onto the shelf atop the briefcase.  Fuck it.  The extremely wrinkled look would now be in.  Grabbed the top box...fuck shit fuck shit...a fairly heavy fucker.  I paused.

Sensed the increasing annoyance.  Perhaps rising to the level of a deflating cock and a decision to fuck someone else, as the only sweat he was interested in raising is whatever might occur when he fucked me.  All in utter silence.  How did I know?  When one is in a small cage with a large lion in the process of becoming pissed, no baring of fangs, no growl is needed.  Trust me.  One knows to get the fucking thorn out of the fucking paw...or as here, the two fucking boxes out of the fucking way...very, very quickly.

I did.  Felt sure my back muscles would never be the same, and prayed to the multifarious Malaysian gods I didnt believe in that there wasnt a groin muscle pulled or something, bent over, rested my forearms on the side of the box so my fingers could grip the edges.

Lube.

Fuck shit fuck shit.  That little bottle was what made the slight bulge in my right jacket pocket.  Which was on the fucking goddamn shelf.  Escalated annoyance in that starting to be stuffy little room; perhaps a slight upset lionish rumble under the word.  But on the other cunt, if just the right level of annoyance was reached, the Goldilocks level, I might be rewarded with a hot, rough fuck.  I lifted up, stretched out my left arm, waving it like a madman, reaching, snagged the fucker, brought it back.  Held it up, reached with my right hand to get the bottle, and swing my arm behind my back, where he took it from my fingertips.  Put my right hand on the box to balance so I could get the jacket back, and found myself face down on the box.  A massive hand pressing hard just below your neck-shoulder intersection will do that.  Pointless to struggle.  Dropped the jacket on the two moved boxes.  It promptly slid to the floor.  Well, fuck.  Extremely wrinkled and storeroom dirty had just become fashionably chic in travelers circles.

Waited with as much patience as I could muster.  Well, fuck...again!  He just wiped his hand on the shirttail bunched up above my ass.  The handkerchief I'd normally have provided if he needed it was on the floor in my right hip pocket.  And then...ah, at last!  His knob nudged my pussy lips.  Nicely greasy.  I moved my hips to help him get seated, relaxed my hole, waited for all eight inches of the wonderfully uncut cock with the massive foreskin that bunched up behind his knob as he went in, and mostly smoothed down on the outstroke, to shove in.  Hopefully all the way.  I could take.  He did.  I couldnt.

I shrieked.

Couldnt help it.  A very girly, high-pitched, nancy-boy, poofter, ponce squeal.  Arched up my back, twisted, looked over my left shoulder as he pulled out.

He was fucking me with his fucking truncheon!  Standing slightly to my right and using his left hand.  And it wasnt some mildly-diametered police baton with the right-angle wooden handle.  This was an I mean business, motherfucker! type.

I had once, at ten, perhaps, been persuaded to try American-style baseball, swinging the bat futilely, eventually giving up in humiliation and tears.  Although the father of one of the other players telling his son to wait outside the park loo, while he took me inside to wash my face, and wipe my tears away, and gently comfort me, and then, after he got over the shock of my request for alternative consolation, to fuck me hard and fast bent over the pan, cumming deep in my pussy, before getting frightened and practically running outside with his cum and boy pussy juice slimed cock flopping...was enough to ease most of the childish angst over failure.  I was lousy at baseball, but by [insert appropriate non-existent deity reference here] I was a good little fuckee.  Excellent, in fact.

That incident branded the shape and size and feel of a childs baseball in my memory.  And it was the big end of the bat sliding out of my pussy as I watched.  Two fucking inches in diameter, black rubber, shining with the lube and my juices, and all bumpy like a freaking French tickler!  Panting, I managed to look up at his face, realizing consciously for the first time that he was not a complete follower of Guru Gobund Singhs kesh-kanga, since his beard, though long and full, was neatly trimmed.  (A true follower never cuts his hair, never mutilates his body with tattoos, or tit rings, or Prince Alberts, and never, never, never gets circumcised.)  Irrelevant to what was happening right then, of course, but one does get weird flashes of the Encyclopaedia Britannica at weird moments.

What was important was the rather wicked look in his eyes.  Not quite a smile, but he was most definitely enjoying himself.  Enjoying my pussy pain.  Then two words in that bottom of the gravel quarry voice.  Cum slut.

He must have seen the confusion in my eyes, as ones brain does not function quite properly when ones cunt is being gently (for the moment only, undoubtedly) being fucked by the knobbed business end of a super-size me, please! truncheon.  At least when that one is me.  And yes, there are golden arches every-fucking-where.  His next word cleared up my dilemma of whether I was being described (cum slut) or ordered (cum, slut).

Quickly.

I turned around, bent over again, my left hand crimping the edge of the cardboard box, my right hand awkwardly managing to grab my cock and start wanking furiously, gasping loudly as he rammed my cunt full, then out and back in again, merciless, steady, the bumps rubbing my pussy walls, ravaging my prostate, sending shivers and an almost hyper-ventilating tingle over my body.  He was indeed annoyed and here was the rough fuck I had prayed for, but not carefully enough, nor with a sufficiently precise definition of what I meant by rough, cock-wise.

With a well-trained soldiers precision he truncheon-fucked my cunt, never allowing it to go in far enough to damage me, but far enough in to hurt, to stretch me, since he pushed my pussy envelope, knowing I could take his fat eight inches, so perhaps 8.5, or even 9.0 of the truncheon would excite me or pain me or make me cum.  The thing in my butt moved faster and faster, as did my hand, desperately obeying that order, until at last I whisper-shouted Fuck me! and came.  And came and came and came, the shots of cum spattering the inside of my shirt, which had spilled over the front of the box as I was writhing and whimpering, more shots spattering and globbing up the side of the box.

I whimpered more, exhausted, panting, as he yanked the truncheon out.  Compared to the ambient temperature of my cunt, the warm air of the room that flowed inside it, gaping in good old Manhattan Dutch tunnel style, seemed almost cool.

And then he shoved his cock in my pussy.  Fast, hard, balls-deep.  No need to prepare me, not that he ever really did anyway, I was unquestionably ready for him.

What I wasnt ready for was him bending over while he was fucking, resting his left elbow on the box, and moving his hand, fist clenched on the handle of the pointing-to-the-ceiling truncheon, right by my desperately gripping left hand.  Mouth or jacket?

Obscenity was useless at that point.  Nor was there a choice.  Bad enough my pussy was going to be leaking the customary, perhaps even better than usual, load of man seed from Ajib, I didnt need my jacket used as a rag for cleaning his dildo truncheon.  I took it.  Grabbed the shaft just under where the lube and juices ended. Began licking it.  Got even harder than I usually am while getting well fucked.

Of course I had cleaned cocks before after theyd cum in my cunt.  Id had dildos there, mostly for my own pleasure when I wasnt getting any, or couldnt go out to get dick.  Once in a while a man might use a dildo on me briefly before getting to the main action.  But no one had ever expected...made...me clean a dildo that had just fucked me to cumming while the man who wielded it mounted me and dick fucked me.  And Id never had anything that wide in my mouth before either.  But slut whore that I am, I managed.  Not all of it.  I could get Ajibs eight inches down to his pubes but in part that was because of the inherent flexibility of cock and the adaptability of the mouth and throat.  This was too long, too rigid, but I managed to get about six inches in.

And face fucked myself with the truncheon while he fucked my pussy even harder, gripping my waist ruthlessly, bruisingly, and I just faded away...the conscious, aware of his surroundings I vanished...into a mindless slut absorbed only in the sensations of a thick rigid truncheon fucking deep in my throat while almost as thick Sikh meat rubbed my prostate with every thrust, twist, turn, withdrawal, until I was gasping and heaving and writhing bent over the boxes in that nearly airless room, almost as if I were five again, Benoits meat in my cunt and having an incredible dry cum that shook me so hard he could barely hold me.  Suddenly I was spraying the box and my shirt, cumming without touching my cock, and the clamping and releasing of my cunt muscles with the violence of that cum obviously sent Ajib into end mode as well, pumping long shots of hot cum against my pussy walls.

He pulled out, leaving my pussy gaping and drooling.  I heard the faint sounds of his clothes being put back in order.  Then a large, dark, hairy hand snapped fingers impatiently.  I surrendered the fortunately clean, though still a bit spit wet, truncheon.  He left me gasping and heaving, bent over the boxes.  Without a word.

As usual.  When youve dumped your cum, your cum dump has performed its function correctly.  No need for commendations, any more than youd congratulate a urinal for a job well done.

I brought my breathing under control, and myself as well.  Holding onto the top box with my left hand, hoping it was heavy enough not to tip over, I squatted awkwardly, my butt out of the floor, drops of cum oozing out and plopping down, while I flailed around with my right hand around my ankles, before finding and getting the handkerchief.  No time for niceties.  I crammed it partially in my cunt, clamped my cheeks, stood up, and pulled up my boxers and slacks and redid them.  Found my coat, slapped the dust off it, put it on, picked up the briefcase, and stepped backwards to the door.  Grinned at the smell of raw sex and male pussy and sweat and cum; at the cum on the floor, on the side of the boxes.  I wondered if the janitor would be pissed...or wank and add his own load of sweet cum, fantasizing about what had happened here.

Cracked the door.  Peeked.  No one.  Out.  I heard the lock click behind me as I quickly strode to the brighter lights and cleaner, fresher parts of the terminal, where a stop in the mens room let me wash my face, and a stop in a stall let me pull the handkerchief out, and lick off Ajibs cum and my slime before folding it and putting it back in my right hip pocket.  Toilet paper finished the rest of the cleaning.  Then out and off to the gate.

Where I somehow struck up a conversation with a backpacker.  Anna.  A straggly blonde girl from Australia. Friendly. Although slightly...hyper.  Moments in our conversation where her inner centrifuge seemed to be whirling so rapidly that she was about to be hurled off into some other, babbling wildly, universe.  And it was just the usual inane strangers-in-an-airport lounge shit. So hot outside.  Good day to fly.  Going to Madras on business (me).  On my way to meet my boyfriend in Amsterdam.  (Her.)  Transit in Madras. (In my mind was Well, duh, if your destination is Amsterdam why else are you boarding a flight to Madras?) Hes Andys daddy.

Andy was the baby she carried in one of those papoose-things you wear on your chest, or even on your back. Well, you maybe, not fucking me.  Unless youre fucking me, in which case Ill sure the fuck wear whatever...within reason...you want.  I tend to balk at hose, heels, and crotchless panties.  Cute kid, though.  Sleeping. After a while, our conversation ran out.  Just before the silence became awkward as we both wondered who was going to be first to end it, the scratchy speakers announced our flight was delayed.

A new topic!  But first she had to go to the loo.  Pause while she tried to figure out the best way to explain to a man whod already said he had no kids the difficulties of using a toilet with a papoose clutched to her chest and belly.  I offered.  She accepted.  A bit of twisting and gentle struggling so as not to wake him, and then there I was in the middle of a damned airport holding a sleeping baby boy in a frontpack/backpack thing, while mum was off doing...whatever women do about bodily functions.  Not a nice image.  Exchanged it for one of this kid when he was older, four or five like I was, teaching him what his boycunt was for.  Abandoned that image to stare at a disgusting old Indian woman in a sari.  Definitely a hardon killer.

Anna back again.  Handed the baby over.  He half-woke, his burbling and bubblings somewhat annoyed, and with soothing mum-murmurs slid back into sleep.  With this new subject available to us, we strolled over to the bar.  Had cocktails.  The baby woke up and she reached into her duffel bag to pull out a container of bits of fruit.  Fed them to him.

But babies are so not me.  My turn for the loo.  But I also wanted to check the newsstand, so back in a bit.

True, I had to piss.  But still, when a flight was delayed on that airline, it wasnt going to be just the fifteen minutes already gone by.  I had time.  And besides, Id hear the announcement, and even, if necessary, the last call one, which might require some quick zipping and tucking and running breathlessly to the gate, frantically shouting, Wait!  Wait!  Hold the plane!  Ive cum already and now Im coming!!

My guard was nowhere to be found.  Shit.  Oh, well.  I avoided the brightly lit, nearly always fresh smelling mens rooms closer to the gates and shops, and chose instead a somewhat remote, dimly lit, somewhat smelly in the kind of way that turns queers on, toilet with three urinals, three stalls, two holes and no waiting.  Also with two men at the two end urinals.  Given the door-opening stillness of near-fear that any fag experienced in cottage cruising can sense, I knew they needed more than a piss.

As I walked by toward the center stall, they naturally turned their heads.  I squeezed my crotch so that my hardon was unquestionably visible, and licked my lips.  Some time was available, yes, but no time for subtlety.  I could have simply asked if anyone was up for a suck, but that would have been tacky and a violation of cottaging etiquette.  Into the stall. Briefcase on the floor.  Pants and boxers on the floor.  

Steps.  Stall doors opening, closing.  Eyeballs peeking at the half naked Malay stroking his hard leaking meat.  I stopped wanking, reached out, forefingers stroking the bottom of each gloryhole.  Cmon, you dumb shit wankers.  Do I have to fucking ask for my fucking cum dump mouth to be fucked?

Finally!

Two cocks slid through.  One was white, short and chubby.  An exact verbal description of its owner.  In fact, for a moment as I leaned over to lick his red-haired balls before swallowing the prick, I wondered how the man had raised his belly enough to get his cock through the hole.  Thank the queer god who watches over gloryholes and makes the walls of thin metal, perhaps.  Kind of awkward to stroke the thin black cock with your left hand while youre turned to the right sucking dick, but with a sufficiently narrow stall (this was) and an expert cock slut (need I say more), it can be done.  My head was bobbing on the black meat when the fat white man whimpered, Jesus, man, Im gonna cum, suck me, please, suck me!

I live to obey.  Especially obeying that command.

I let the black cock go, twisted and gulped the white meat down to his pubes, which was all it took for him to start panting and spritzing cum into my mouth in a couple of short bursts.  Not a lot.  No special taste.  But he sure the fuck enjoyed it.  So did the other man as I sucked on him again and played with his balls.  A bit more cum than whitey, thin, a little bitter.  I mentally shrugged.  Not every cock spews gourmet variety cum.

As usual, the owners of the spent dicks rushed to get away from cocksucker contamination, but I heard one say there was a queer inside, over the sound of the main door opening and closing.  A moment later, the stall door next door opened, shut, the latch clicked.  A brief pause.  My fingertip on the bottom of the hole was rewarded with nicely shaped white prick.  Uncut.  Six or a bit more inches.  I bent over started.  Yummy.

Id just settled down to a long summers suck, when over my head there arose such a chatter, I stopped sucking dick to see what was the matter.

Fucking goddamned airline was announcing boarding for my fucking flight.  Barstards!

Sorry, man, thats my flight.

The cock waved in the air, still glistening from my spit.  Man, dont leave me like this.  Cmon, suck it.  Ill be quick.

Music to an in a hurry cocksuckers ears.  Okay.  But first I got dressed, then dropped to one knee and sucked him back down.  I adapted my mouth and throat to his dick and let him set the pace, fucking my face through the hole, his balls banging against my chin, his voice whispering degrading obscenities about what was going on, and then, as quickly as he promised he was pumping my gullet full of thick, salty cum.  I gulped and swallowed twice and he was done.  No time for a polite clean up.  I licked my own lips clean, stood, opened the door.

And I heard him exclaim as I strode out of sight, Its only a faggot who does that just right.

Or something.

We boarded and Anna switched her seat to sit beside her new best friend forever.  The twenty-one year old Malay fag with a belly and cunt filled with cum.  Although the flight is short, Andy decided to be obnoxious and restless.  Cranky, crying, and twitchy.  And Anna kept having to go to the loo.  Leaving me holding the poor, uncomfortable kid almost the whole way.  I was wondering what the problem was.  Colic?  As if I even had any idea what that was.

Once on the ground in Madras, a definitely dirty third-world airport (before they acquired all those lovely, lovely dollars and pounds of IT money for tech support call centers), we did the BFF kiss-kiss (air! type) thing.  Traded numbers. Must get together soon.  (Right, me in India, her with her boyfriend in Amsterdam, smart, twitchy blonde stereotype.)  Entered the terminal; headed toward customs.

I wound up fairly well ahead of her in the line.  How I dont know, as we were right next to each other, and when I turned around there she was, further back.  Twitching, her eyes darting here and there.  Weird!

Id been flying fairly frequently back and forth to Madras and Id befriended a customs guy.  Name of Madhu.  If he saw me I always got waved on. Not that I was smuggling antiquities or anything but with him there I didnt have to queue. Had char (tea for those who dont understand proper English) with him as other passengers lined up. Nice guy.  Of course  my do not pass go, go directly through card probably wasnt hurt by the fact he loved fucking either of my cunts, and then eagerly dropped to his knees to suck me off.  In the airport.  In a variety of places.

Madhu was on duty and saw me, waved me through with a word to the agent.  We were just standing there, our mouths speaking the how-are-you-good-to-see-you shit, our eyes agreeing we definitely needed some quick sex before I left, when I heard a squeal, a womans voice, and looked back.

It was Anna, and she was starting into hysterics.  Her backpack was open on the customs counter, the contents scattered, and they were taking Andy!

She was told to wait. And there was a bull dyke if I ever saw one customs officer guarding her.  Anna looked around wildly, saw me over the guards shoulder.  I mouthed to her to call her embassy.  She actually answered as if the guard had said the words, crying now, saying she couldnt, she couldnt.  And Hans was on the way to Schiphol to wait for her, and, and....  And a male customs officer was back, without Andy, telling her she needed to come to the office.  Dyke-guard grabbed her arm roughly, Anna sobbing and wailing now, her poor raped and sprawling backpack left behind.

Madhus eyebrow lifted when I turned back, saw the sympathy (I later learned he saw us talking together before getting in line), and told me I could follow, perhaps help to calm her a bit.  We got to the officewell used, slowly moving ceiling fan that didnt circulate much air, a long banged up table.  No one really noticed us in the doorway.  All the focus was on another customs guy, holding baby Andy.  Happy, gurgling, baby Andy, little hands waving around, touching custom guys face.

Only, customs guy was wearing rubber gloves, and tiny Andy was naked from the waist down.  What the...?

And then I looked at the table.  Four fat, packed rubbers. Lying there like albino sossies at a butchers, mate. Packed with smack. Extracted from Andys babys bottom.  Anna knew she was done for, and collapsed onto a straight back wooden chair.

Madhu whispered, Os, is she your friend?

No.  We just met at the airport.  Sat next to me.

Then leave. You do not want to be involved.

He had that fucking right, although I had a twinge of regret he wouldnt be fucking me.  Hmm.  Let me see.  Wait around there until he was free to fuck, maybe getting involved in a drug smuggling bust, or leave and not be involved at all.  Even my slut dick could figure than one out. I was turning to step back in the corridor since it was clearly time to get the fuck out of Dodge, as one American whod used by boy cunts once said, when all their walkie-talkies screeched.

An emergency of some sort.  One that required all of them.  Immediately.  The customs guy whod brought Anna had put on rubber gloves, too, and he carefully put the four fat condoms in an evidence bag.  Dyke lady had yanked Anna out of her chair, ruthlessly fisting her upper left arm, probably so that the 115 pound or so blonde didnt over come the 180 pound, Schwarzenegger at his best, muscled broad and flee to safety in a strange country, without a passport, without money, etc., etc., etc.

As I slid around the edge of the door into the corridor I saw the realization hit them.  Something had to be done about Andy.  The dope could be dropped in an evidence locker.  Anna could be locked in a cell or a holding room.  But Andy couldnt be left.  And from the tension surrounding the calls they needed to move and quickly.

I was thoroughly gob-smacked when Madhu spoke up to say hed take the boy to...well, I guess it was some sort of government childrens services office but the name was incredibly long and I didnt understand it.  I was still outside the door, the cat part of my nature doing its damnedest to get me killed, hoping that when they rushed out they wouldnt notice me at all, much less realize Id been in there.

Loud wails from Anna as she was dragged away.  Door(s) opening, slamming.  Silence.  Obviously thered been another exit.  Extended silence. I debated just going away, started to, when I heard Madhus soft voice.  Os?

I stepped into the doorway.  Andy was on his back on the table, still half-naked, the diaper that had been removed in Madhus hand.  He jerked his head to tell me to get the fuck inside, and shut the door.  I did.  Moved in a few steps.  Stood there.  He stared at me until I caught on and finished the job.  Locked the door; came back to that half-way point between door and table.  All the while multiple what the fuck? what the fuck?s were going through my head.

Madhu looked at me.  Serious.  More serious than Id ever seen him before, more serious than Id ever imagined anyone could look in a locked office with a half naked baby boy on a table, and the boys clearly pissed-in diaper in a mans hand.  You really get fucked by men when you were little, Os?

Okay, so maybe I do go overboard on letting men know that Id been abused, molested, fucked up the arse until I had a series of screaming dry cums, boo-hoo, when I was young.  Not that Id mention my own activities in that direction now than Im a riper, older, age.  For some it was something to be briefly sympathetic about and then get on with the business of fucking the shit out of me.  But for a surprising number it was a turn on, an opportunity to role play, and naturally I was the young one they fantasized about, though few ever verbalized how young I was in their fantasies.  Although one reluctantly blurted out that I was seven.  I suspect there were far more fantasizing I was that age or much, much younger, than those who were pretending I was thirteen or fourteen.

The only one Id ever fully disclosed the details to, particularly Sulaiman teaching me to be a good cocksucker when I was four, and Benoit opening up my cherry boy pussy when I was five, had been Matteo Petrelli, my mostly straight, definitely bi, roommate, best friend, fuck buddy in college.  From which Id graduated last year in the States and returned home.

Yeah.

Do you fuck little boys now?

My expression stilled.  Not in shock or dismay or oh-my-god-Im-caught.  More a thoroughly pissed, how dare you ask me a question like that, kind of look.  Talented pedos, whether theyre the boy cunts getting used by old, older, oldest men, or the men themselves, have to be superb liars with excellent facial control.  Im one of the best.

I think I need to go to my appointment, Madhu.  Any problem with that?  Right.  Like Im going to tell a comparative stranger, in another country, standing in what was, for all practical purposes, part of a police station, that I liked having my dick in little boy pussies and little boy mouths?  Not bloody likely.

He smiled at me.  Os, Os, I saw how you stared at the kids little prick and balls when you came in, and youre having a hard time not looking at him now.

All true, but nothing showed on my face.  If it was in my head, even if it was in my eyes, I wasnt guilty of anything.  I turned my back on him, took a step towards freedom, stopped when he said, Would it convince you this isnt a trap if I showed you this?

I turned to find out what this was, and almost lost control.  Almost...but did not.

Madhus luscious, slender, red-brown prick with the long, long foreskin, a silver drop of precum at the tip, was standing straight out from his pants, the diaper was on the table and he was holding Andys plump little legs up and wide.  My mouth watered but I held onto my control.  Just barely.

You saw the size of the rubbers, Os.  All of them up there.  You think a flake like his mum prepared him for that?

Staring now, I muttered, No.

Neither did I.  I wonder what she carried into Sydney up inside his bum.  I wonder how his father got him ready to do that.  Dont you wonder how much he can take?  What his little bottom must look like?  His voice got softer.  Feel like?  Wouldnt you like to take a look?

I could do no more than nod and start toward the table, but his First things first, Os, stopped me.  I shifted focus from baby boy bottom to Madhus face.  It was more relaxed.  He looked down at his cock then at my pants bulging, precum-pissing prick.  I hauled it out and fisted it gently...too much pressure and Id be spewing in a nanosecond...as I dropped to my knees beside the table.  Stopped playing with my dick.  Gently used my thumbs to spread those plump cheeks.

Christ! I breathed, though it seemed loud.  I dont believe in Jesus and the Christian God and all that shit, but after four years of listening to Teo swear by Jesus, fuck me Jesus, Christ, Jesus fucking Christ, goddamn, god fucking damn, etc., the Christian swearing sometimes just slipped or burst out of me.

Id never seen a virgin boy pussy before, and Benoit hadnt taken any photographs of my pre-first fuck cunt so I could see my own at five.  But I know my own cunt ring is thick and dark from all the things besides shit up inside it over the years.  Andys ass lips were baby thick and brownish and glistening slightly.  It hit me.

I looked up at Madhu.  He had to have two fingers up inside the kid.

Mads time for a what the fuck? look.

The customs guy.  No mess, no laxative.  And it was too quick for a laxative anyway.  So he got the rubbers out by lubing his fingers, and pulling the first one out, and then fingering, aw, Jesus fuck, finger-fucking the kid to get peristalsis going to bring the others down.

Mad was stroking again.  He nodded, understanding.  Asked again, You fuck little boys, Os?

No choice but to nod.

Me, too.  Not that I hadnt finally figured that out.  How old was your youngest?

Eight.

His smile was a little smug.  Six.  I shrugged and kept my face smooth.  You want to fuck him?

I fucking lost it.  Facial control, that is.  Im sure Mad saw everything as the thoughts flashed by.  Jesus fucking Christ, fucking yes! No!  Too dangerous.  What if someone catches us.  Hes only a baby.  But his cunt has been used for drugs.  Its not like nothing dick size hasnt been up there already.  Think of the size of those fat rubbers.  Four of them.  No.  Yes.  Fuck!

His smile got broader.  So do I.

Mad, we cant....

Sure we can.  We just have to be quick and careful.  And clean him out.  If hes a little raw down there, Farouk can take the fall for getting the rubbers out so roughly.  Make sure he doesnt fall, he said as he stepped away and went over to a phone.  He dialed three numbers.  Obviously, an inside call.

I couldnt stop myself from leaning forward and licking that tiny, tiny, fat ball sack, or putting my mouth down over pricklet and balls and sucking and slurping gently on both.  I heard him say, Kai, get down to Room 733.  Quick.  Bring your keys.

I gave up the now slimy cocklet and balls in favor of raising his baby hips so I could get my tongue in his abused little cunt.  It eased on open, and I slid in.  Christ I loved baby boy pussy, and Id only had one boy cunt in the States in the whole four years of college...a thirteen year old Id found in the college library loo.  He was obviously cutting school.  He was more obviously, about two seconds into the encounter, a slut boy much as I had been, well, still was.  Id fucked him over the stool; hed cleaned my cock quite well, and then paused, his expression indicating he realized he was probably not going to get anything done to him (arsehole fuckers to treat a hot little boycunt that way!), and practically fell over when I offered him my own pussy, provided he gave me a thorough eating out first.  Young teen slime in my pussy from a fairly small thin dick is not my ideal, but he sure the fuck enjoyed himself.  A couple of times more in the loo, and then no more.

I heard a deep sniff and a groan and rolled my eyes up.  I could just barely see Madhu with the baby diaper to his face, inhaling.  Hot!  Fucking hot.  A couple of door sounds behind me and I saw black, sharply creased trousers in my peripheral vision to my right.  

Reluctantly I let go of the sloppy baby pussy, stood up, knowing my mouth and face were shiny with my own spit and the boyhole juices.  By the time I was upright, there was a very slender Japanese cock thrusting straight out from the fly, accompanied by small balls tight up against it.  I kept looking up, past the crisp, white, short-sleeved shirt, the narrow tie, to the slender face, with large, gorgeous eyes, and thick, surprisingly long hair.  Eyes that widened when he saw my dick.  A quick glance right and left (Madhu had walked around the table and dropped his pants to his ankles) and I realized I was the largest of the three.

Chikai, meet Osman, my pedo friend.  A friendly cock-shake was the order of the day, apparently, as the young Japanese man, only a few years older than me, if that, reached out to fondle my dick and rub his thumb over the leaking knob.  I returned the favor with his cock, maybe five inches.

Madhu leaned and bent, and began unbuckling my belt, his goal obvious, but the Japs hand and mine were otherwise occupied.  He sometimes brings his nephew here for an educational trip.

Your six year old?

Madhu nodded, though all I could see was the top of his head, as he finished the job of getting my pants and stained boxers free.  I did the horny man dance to get them down to my ankles.

An aptly named little boy.  Yori.  Servant to the public.  How much of the public has the little slut been servicing, Kai?

Time for a sly Japanese grin as he joined us in getting half naked.  His father and grandfather, of course.  A boy must be respectful to his elders.  His great-grandfather.  My employer just before my last increase.  Various men my brother and I have given him to in toilets, in alleys, wherever we think we might enjoy seeing him molested.

We were ignoring the elephant in the room for a moment, three pedophiles hands roaming each others cocks and balls.

Madhu squeezed my dick, swiped precum off on his thumb, licked it, turned his attention back to the baby.  And I think this may persuade Kai to bring in three year old Toru. His name means penetrating?

Kai nodded.

Getting penetrated is going to be more his style, for the next good few years.

We chuckled at that and then got down to the business of baby boy molesting.  We used the tried and true rock-paper-scissors method to determine the order in which the boy would get his hopefully first gang fuck.  It worked out as I had hoped.  Thin Jap cock.  Bigger Indian meat.  Biggest gook prick.

Kai took out a tube of the local equivalent of American KY...which had been used on my cunt numerous times during college.  Greased his dick.  Greased the lips of the precious hole.

How old do you think he is? I blurted out as Kai brought the kid to the edge of the table and lined up his cock.

Madhu was rubbing a couple of fingers in my sweaty, sticky ass crack, and around my pussy hole.  Kais the family expert.

A judicious pause.  Thirteen, fourteen months, maybe as much as eighteen months, no older, he said in a very precise voice and then shoved his cock in the kids cunt.  The boy didnt even wail!  Of course, it could be hed been thoroughly loosened by all those fat rubbers.  Or the fact of the thinness of the dick.  I moaned at the thought of getting my cock in cunt so young, so little.  And a bit of the moan was for the three fingers sliding part way in and out of my ass.

So fucking hot watching the yellow meat slide in and out of the baby white pussy, Kai holding his legs up, while the kid stared at the ceiling and made funny little happy noises.  Want a smell? Madhu asked? 

Kai nodded.  Madhu picked up the diaper and held it over Kais face, letting him inhale the scent of fresh baby boy pee.  He whimpered.  So did I when it was my turn.  We were sick baby fuckers, but damned good at what we did.  Although I could hardly tear my eyes away from the steady, rhythmical Aussie boyfuck, I did when Madhu held the still baby damp diaper under his prick, concentrated fiercely, let go with some piss on a dry spot...and then fucking realized he had to fucking go and nowhere to do it.

Pissman to the rescue!

I dropped to my knees and inhaled his meat.  Hadnt done this much, just when I was really fucking turned on, and what with being in a queue for a thirteen-fourteen-eighteen month old boy pussy, I doubted Id ever be much more turned on than that.  With a sigh of relief, Madhu let go and I gulped the bitter, salty, hot fluid, looking up at him inhaling the double-scented diaper.  When he was done and shaking off the last drop he looked at his urinal and realized Id kept the last mouthful.

Standing up, he obviously caught on from my expression what I wanted.  His turn to be a toilet.  Fuck if we hadnt just expanded our traveler comes to Madras sex repertoire.  I sprayed another dry part of the diaper, though a bit more than I intended.  Then Madhu was on my knees gulping down the piss accumulated from water, the alcohol, and just general body fluid draining functions.  And he kept a last mouthful, too.

Great fucking minds, mate.

Kai hadnt been paying any attention to us as he fucked the tiny baby bottom with metronome regularity...the Japanese do things with such fucking precisioneven fucking!...spewing obscenities, or at least, what I assumed to be obscenities and the usual boy fucking verbal filth that is such a turn on when youre dicking boy cunt.  Madhu got back to his left, me to his right, and held the wet, freshened diaper over Kais nose and mouth and chin, holding it there so hed have to breathe through it.  He moaned and his knees buckled.

Madhu dropped the diaper on the table, leaned down (he was the tallest of us three, way taller than thin Jap Kai), grabbed the mans head, forced it to his own, clamped his lips down...and then forced my still warm piss into his mouth.  Kais hips began moving more frantically, as he gulped and swallowed, and Madhus tongue fucked his mouth, and then I grabbed him, yanking him away, and filled his mouth with Madhus hot bitter piss.  He almost choked as he managed to swallow it down while starting an unh unh unh grunting sound that let us both know he was cumming the kids cunt.  And good.

When he quieted down, Kai slowly withdrew his still hard prick from barely more than a year old pussy.  Almost staggered as he stepped aside.  Madhu had to contort himself a bit, bending his knees to get at the right height, but he showed us the cum oozing pussy first, and then shoved in.  This time the baby gave a wonderful wail.  A not very happy baby pussy wail about the invasion of much larger meat into his bowels.  Glory-fucking-us.

Kai was still jacking, as was I as we watched that reddish-brown prick thrust and out of Aussie toddler, hell, too young to toddle, Aussie diapered white boycunt.  We reached under Madhus shirt to squeeze his large fat nipples hard, and play with his sweating balls, and his raunchy cunt, taking turns forcing two and three fingers up his ass.  Faster and faster, forcing himself balls deep in the tiny kid cunt, and why not, since the kid had so many fat rubbers up his pussy not so long ago, until at last with three fingers fucking Madhu and rubbing his gland, the kid rocketed into a quaking and shaking dry baby cum and Madhu pumped the kid cunt full to leaking.  He leaned over the table, palms flat, his chest heaving, his lungs gasping.  We got down close to watch the hot pink pussy lips turn inside out as the Hindu dick pulled out.

My turn.  MY FUCKING TURN.  Airport baby rape, scene fucking three.

The kid was collapsed, boneless, out fucking cold.  I looked at the man slime oozing out of his pussy as I took my turn to hold his legs up and wide, and thought, Do not go gentle into that good cunt.  And I didnt.

So incredibly tight, still.  So incredibly hot as his muscles tightened involuntarily on the (comparatively) monster meat forcing his pussy open.  He wailed again, music to my fucking ears.  But not too long or loud.  He looked up at me with pussy boy drool running down the corner of his mouth, a happy little smile on his face, a glaze of boyfuck overload in his eyes.

Fat golden gook fuck meat drilling cum and juice sloppy white Aussie boy pussy.  Smelly boypiss-manpiss filled diaper covering my nose and mouth so I had to breathe the scents.  Madhu working my nips, while the Jap got behind me and slid his small dick up my hole.  I pounded the boy pussy even harder, making sure I was fucking him balls deep, my well-trained, well-used cunt muscles going on autopilot to squeeze and caress the Japs little meat, ordering him to fuck me hard and fast.  Kai did, blowing his wad in my cunt in only a minute or so.  Then it was Madhus turn to mount me, spreading my cunt wide as hed done many times before.

Id been gangbanged before, by a line of men a lot longer than just two, Id had my dick in kid cunt while being dicked, and sucking cock.  But fuck! Id never had boy pussy so young.  So tight. So slimy with cum.  Fucking thirteen fourteen maybe eighteen months.  Maybe younger.  Fuck, a lot younger.  So very fucking much younger in my own mind.  So very much younger I didnt even dare put a number to it in the depths of my fantasies, off in a  pedo boyfuck world of my own.  Grunting, sweating, swearing, fucking, fucking, fucking, my tits being twisted, my cunt being ravaged and then finally it was my turn to spew my cum guts, draining my fucking pedo perv balls into this baby boys tight little cunt!

My turn to bend over the table, resting my arms, panting, dripping sweat on the kid, who looked up at me with this innocent little smile.  Oh yeah, his druggie daddy in Amsterdam had taught him well.

Madhu ripped his meat out of my hole, dropped to his knees and clamped his talented mouth and tongue on my pussy, licking and slurping me at least somewhat clean.

My turn again.  Pulled my prick gently out of the boy pussy.  Dropped to my knees.  Scooted the kid to the very edge and then began eating out his wide open, gaping kid cunt.  Forcing myself not to swallow, my cheeks bulging with boy cunt juices and three huge fucking loads of man seed.  I stood and shared in a gross, sloppy, slimy, faces dripping with juices three-way kiss that fucking had us hard again.

Looked at each other.  Knew the odds were a trillion to one against ever having access to a boy this young again.  Knew the risks if we did it...probably execution if we were caught.

We did it anyway.  Greased the kids pussy with lube, and then fucked his tiny cunt all over again, taking turns, until finally we were so turned on, so hot with baby boy pussy and danger that we came.  Kai in the boys mouth while I came in his pussy, and Madhu slam-fucked my cunt and blew another huge wad.

We took turns quickly sucking holes empty.  Licking the baby clean.  Putting the wet diaper back on him.  Murmuring, kissing, squeezing meat hidden in clothes again, making promises.  We left the room together, but quickly separated.  I glanced back at Madhu carrying the squirming boy to wherever he was supposed to have gone some time ago.  Caught his eye.  Realized.  Somewhere between the hall where we were and the place he was going, there would be a room, an alcove, a closet, a toilet stall.  Lucky little Andy was going to get a final load of Hindu gism in his pussy.  Lucky bastard.

Kai and I came to a split in the hall and I was preparing for the usual post-pedo-fuck, no idea who the fuck you are have a great life separation, when Kai grabbed my arm.  Fuck me, he whispered.  I nodded.

He led me to one of the filthiest toilets Id ever fucked in.  No lock.  More fucking danger. Nail hard cocks.  Dropped his pants, bent over the pan.  They no longer fuck me as I have no children to be molested.  I am an embarrassment to them.  But at least they let me molest my nephews.  His voice was sad, slightly bitter.  Pretend I am Toru, the three year old, or even the baby whore we just fucked if you need to.

I had something better in mind.

I rammed my cock in, hard, fast, balls deep.  He grunted, almost fell forward, balanced himself by slamming his palms against the rusty walls of the narrow toilet/fuck stall.  I bent forward, wrapping my arms around his slender frame, rested my chin on his shoulder.  Spoke quietly in his ear as my hips started to move.

Ah, Kai, precious baby Kai.  So glad your father owed me so much money.  He does not gamble well, your father.  And then he borrows from me to pay his debts, swearing he can repay me promptly.  Swearing, too, that he never knew he was borrowing from the Yakuza, never knew he was gambling with us.  A bad gambler.  A bad liar.  Deeply in debt.  If I were not such a kind man your fathers knees would be broken.  No way to work and he would be late again, and then I would have to do something more, perhaps to his hands.  A vicious cycle.  The end inevitable.  And I would gain nothing.  And of course lose face if I let him go.

I wish you understood, little one.  Not that you were older...twelve weeks is a perfect age...but that somehow your mind was older, so you could understand what your father has done.  He gave you away.  To me.  No objections, no questions.  I told him I would reduce his debt in exchange for you, and he bowed...very, very low, for he is a submissive man, your father...and agreed.  Agreed, too, that he would wail and bemoan the loss of his precious boy to the evil Yakuza.  Wonder aloud what wicked things they would do to the baby son so forcibly taken from him.

If I turned your head to your left, you could see him, precious Kai.  He is a little bloody, since he did not want to accept my gracious invitation to let him watch what we are doing.  A coward, your father.  If he did not actually know, actually see, he could pretend you were going to be raised as a young Yakuza prince, to inherit my empire.  Or some other fairy tale foolishness.

I turn my head, tell Hachiro and Yadi to strip themselves.  Your father is already naked, baby Kai.  Tied to a heavy chair, his legs spread wide, bruises forming on his belly and face.  His right arm is free, though, little one.  He doesnt glare at me, is too afraid, but he holds it behind his back as if it is tied, too. A pathetic little worm dick, soft between his plump thighs.  His face is grim, but he watches us.  You and me.  Some of the blood on his face is from being taught to obey.

Yadi is young, baby Kai.  He saved my life last week. He is lean, muscular, and eager...very eager for his reward.  He has never done this, little one.  But his thin cock is so hard, leaking already, that he is not doing this just because it will please me, but because he has thought of it before, wanted it.  And now he does not wish to look at me, to let me see in his eyes how he lusts for little boys.  But he looks.  And I know.  Know, too, that if I wish to use his cunt he will give it to me for whatever I may wish to do to it.

I wish you could appreciate Hachiro, tiny one.  A big man, balding, stocky, thick-bellied, his body covered with intricate tattoos.  His cock is short and thick, with a scorpion on it, to say that his cock is a killer, just like the rest of him.

I held my cock still, buried in this Kais cunt.  We both took a deep breath of the sex smells of dirt and disinfectant, or perhaps only imagined disinfectant, and piss and shit and sweat and men and cum.  Want me to go on, Kai?  He whimpered, and frantically nodded his head, and thrust his pussy back at me.

Will you cum for me, Kai?  Cum when I tell you?

He nodded.

Not good enough. Tell me, Kai.

This baby boy understands.  This baby will cum for you when he is told.

I gave a nod he couldnt see and began fucking.  Thank whatever for the earlier cums, otherwise this mind fuck would have me blowing in seconds.

Such a plump little boy, baby Kai.  Long, fine black hair.  Beautiful black eyes.  I lift you off the table, holding you carefully like the precious cargo you are, on your back, your little legs dangling while I hold your ass in my right hand and support the rest of you with my left.  I tell your father to eat your pussy, Kai, to get it wet while Yadi holds your precious fat legs up and wide.

Ah.  Your foolish father has a little pride left.  He turns his head away.  It snaps to his right with Yadis flat-handed slap.  Hachiros backhand snaps it back again.  Yadi steps behind the chair, grabs your fathers head and turns it forward.  Holds it in place. He is panting now, crying a little, blood trickling from the side of his mouth.  Hachiro raises your legs and your father buries his face in your ass.  We can hear him licking and slurping and slobbering, and crying as well.

I can feel Hachiros leaking, blood-filled scorpion cock on my hip.  A slight rub to smear the sticky juice.  A subtle reminder of how well he can pleasure my cunt when he is ordered, allowed, to.  I lift you up and away and thrust my hips forward, into your fathers gasping mouth.  Yadi has acquired a knife, a magical feat for a naked man, and its tip is pressed against your fathers throat.  He allows me to fuck his face, frantically trying to get my prick thick with his mouth slime, understanding the meaning of that point right where the blood pulses in his neck.

I lay you back on the padded table, little one.  Positioned so that your father can see.  He understands now what is at risk if he doesnt watch.  I hold your legs up, hold my right hand out.  Your father opens wide and wets my first two fingers.  I ease them into your baby cunt.  You whimper and squirm, but you dont get away as I finger you, stretch you just a little, prepare you just a little.

But not too much.  Your wails will help your father understand what he has done, what he has lost.  And when they turn into baby whimpers and moans of baby boy pussy pleasure he will hurt more.  I shove my knob, streaked with your fathers blood and spit, into your hot tight twelve week old cunt.  What a delightful scream.  I hold still, look down at the joining of my cock and your cunt lips.  Push in more as you wriggle and try to get away from the invader, rearranging your hot little bowels to accommodate my meat. And then I am in as far as I can go.

Not as far as I eventually will go, precious boy.  Eventually you will take, and scream with pleasure when it happens, all of my cock.  Or the cocks of any man or men I give you to.  Eventually your boy pussy will wrap around my fist and wrist and you will beg me to go deeper and harder.

Twelve week old boy cunt, Kai.  The start of a lifetime as a slut, a bottom pig to be used and molested and abused by whoever wants one of your talented holes.

I pull out, step away, head tilting Yadi to take my place.  He bows respectfully, steps in, slam fucks his thin dick all the way into your cunt.  Yadi moans, and begins to tell your father, with every obscene word and image he can think of...and for a young mind, his is incredibly filthy...what he is doing to you, and what your life will be like in my household as you grow up.  I lightly stroke my own prick as I watch him speed up, becoming almost incoherent as two virginities are taken.  Your very first mans cum in your baby boy cunt, Kai; his very first cum in a little boy.  Yadi pauses only a moment to recover control of his breathing, knowing what I want.  Steps aside.

Hachiros turn.  He gets in place but first thrusts two thick fingers into your cunt, and pulls them out covered in seed and pussy juice and a streak of blood.  He holds them out and your father bends his head forward and gulps them down.  Eagerly.

Too eagerly.  I look down and his worm dick has become hard.  Not long or fat, but definitely hard, the skin pulled back from a bright red head.  His right hand is playing with it, but not too fast, as if he is afraid he will cum too soon and not get maximum enjoyment out of what is happening to his baby son.

Hachiro notices.  Nods to me.  Pushes in fast.  We are rewarded with another of your wondrous wails, precious Kai, as the fat scorpion rearranges baby bowels yet again, spreading them wider.  Hachiro is a silent fuck, his flat face impervious to emotion except in the very last seconds before he cums violently in whatever hole he is using.  He still cums more than any man I have ever known, and your baby boy body is panting and shivering, your arms and legs flailing as he fucks you hard and fast and then his eyes blaze and with two quick strokes he stands shuddering as his balls empty into your precious pussy.

The real Kai, the one actually getting fucked in a stinking airport toilet, wails at that, and his cunt muscles clamp around my cock as he splatters the pan and the seat with a fresh load of cum.  He sags, probably expecting me to pull out and leave.  

Wrong.  I havent cum yet.  I go on fucking, leaning over him, holding him tight, my right hand briefly rubs his sensitive dick head, causing a stifled whimper.  Whispering, whispering.

Baby Kai, youve been molested by two men now, their hot seed in your slimy cunt.  The first of many, many men who will abuse and use your baby holes.  But this was supposed to be punishment, little one.  Punishment for your father.  Having him watch you being used to pay his debt.  Five hundred yen when I cum.  A thousand yen when other men seed your holes.  And your father owes me many, many thousands of yen.

Except...your father is sick, baby cunt.  His pathetic prick is stiff as he watches us fuck you.  A disgusting, perverted father who sells his baby boy and then gets a hardon when his son is molested.  Under our original deal it would not have been all that long before you were returned to him, whore boy.  But the deal has changed.  A hundred yen for my cum.  Two hundred for another man.  Oh, how I wish you could see how eagerly your father agrees to the change, knowing you will be getting so many dicks in your kid cunt.  Knowing the type of thieves and murderers and thugs I will let you go to.

I wonder...just how eager is your father, cunt Kai?  Does he want me to lower your twelve week old pussy down on his daddy dick as he sits tied in his chair, his arm held by Hachiro so he cant touch you, only feel your wet baby pussy on his daddy meat.  And even when I tell him that if I do this he will owe me twenty thousand more yen, he still wants to fuck his boys cunt.

I reach down again and the real Kai is stiff.  The image of a tied up father agreeing to increase his debt to a thug just so he can fuck his twelve-week old baby boy is so fucking hot in my head.  Its starting to get me close, too.

Cum with me, Kai.  Think about your precious baby boy cunt being lowered on your fathers tiny dick by the thug who owns you, who bought you from your daddy in exchange for his gambling debts.  A father who is helpless to touch you except for his cock in your cunt, since his arm has been tied back.  A father who rapidly learns to suck Yakuza cock as Hachiro ruthlessly face fucks him, and Yadi rapidly raises and lowers your flopping body up and down on daddy cock.  Until suddenly your daddy starts an almost hysterical attempt to fuck you, and fuck you hard, barely able to concentrate on the fat meat in his mouth, whimpering and then grunting loudly over and over as he empties his small daddy balls into his molested sons pussy.  Frantically trying to get away as Hachiro holds his head in place, buries his thick, thick meat in your daddys throat, and pumps a load of slimy hot seed into his belly.

Close, Kai, close.  Picture me, picture the Yakuza thug whos bought you, lifting your tired, molested body from your daddys dick, carrying you over to the table, laying you belly down on it, your fat baby legs dangling over the edge.  Youre only twelve weeks old, Kai, such a tiny fat little baby boy and already youve been gangbanged by two Yakuza thugs, youve been fucked by your father, and now youre going to be ravished by the man who bought you, the man who owns your baby cunts.

Hes holding you down on the table.  A hand pressed against your back to keep you from moving.  Hes fucking your baby boy cunt, Kai, fucking it hard, not caring if youre wailing or whimpering, not caring that hes shoving every thick inch of his meat to the hilt inside your cunt, fucking three month old boy pussy, fucking it hard and fast while your father gets hard and cant do anything, while Hachiro and Yadi stand on either side of your molested baby body, wanking, eager to spray you with their cum when their boss slimes and seeds your abused pussy.  Oh fuck shit fuck, Kai, cumming in your cunt, your boy cunt your man cunt, seeding your molested fucking hole!!!

And as I convulsed and did just that, Kai came again, too.  Two pedo perverts in a filthy john, fantasy fucking their brains out, panting and gasping with their cums.  As my prick softened in his hole, I realized I had one more gift for him.  I pissed his cunt.  He just whimpered, and didnt object.  I told him I was done, told him to clamp his ass tight as I eased my cock out.  He did.  He turned around and more collapsed than just sat down on the pan.  He was sort of sprawled there.  His pants and boxers at his ankles, his knees splayed out and wide, his no longer crisp shirt pulled half way up to his tits.

I finished my piss.  Soaked his belly, his cock and balls, his thighs, probably got some on his boxers and pants.  Not my problem.  I had a meeting to get to, and probably wouldnt have time to go, so it was better to piss now than try to hold it.  He just looked up at me and took it.

Clean me, Kai.  

He sat up and did a fine job.

I tucked myself back in, got my act together.  Inhaled a final smell of the wonderful scent of this disgusting toilet.  Had a great idea.

Kai, do you want to be used like this again?  He nodded.  

Good, good.  I pulled a pen and a business card out, handed them to him, told him to write down how I could reach him to set things up.  He handed me the card.  I put it in my pocket.  Took out another card, quickly wrote on the back; put the pen away.

Can you come to Penang next week, perhaps stay overnight?  With both the little ones?  Their father would let them go, wouldnt he, knowing you were taking them somewhere to be molested, and molested well?  Perhaps even to have pictures taken for him to see how well theyd been used?  Especially if their father knew other men besides me will use them?

Kai was nodding even more eagerly.  I left him fondling himself.

As I made my way back to the main terminal, I pictured myself going up to my soldier at Bayan Lepas after theyd arrived, though Id make Kai wait, so it was just me with two tiny Jap boys, me pretending not to know him, asking him if he could tell us how to get to hereshowing him the words Id written on the card:  6 and 3 yr old boy pussy and me. Interested?

All he could say was no, since he didnt dare make a scene and risk his own exposure. I figured hed take me up on it.  Wondered if hed use the truncheon on me again.  Wondered if hed use it on them.  So fucking hot picturing those young boy cunts abused with a truncheon.  Impaled in turn with his incredible meat.  Taking turns molesting them.  Fucking Kais cunt while he fucked his nephews.  Hell, maybe even wear my soldier out so he could hardly stagger back on duty.

Fuck.  Another hardon.  I stepped through the doors into the heat and smells of India.  I looked around.  Ah.  Just the taxi driver to take care of it.  Hed sucked me on other trips, hed do it again.  I signaled him.

 26 

