TALES OF A PAIR OF PEDOS 00

By DannyR  (MM/b, oral, anal, incest, extreme pedo, ws, best)
Copyright 2011.  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 didnt 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 were clear on whats what, and whats not, read on.

TALES OF A PAIR OF PEDOS

Prologue

What? A prologue for Gods sake, in what are obviously going to be stories, real or imagined, about two pedophiles and their boy-molesting adventures? Were not jumping immediately into cock in boy cunt action?

You imagined, perhaps, that all pedos are drooling perverts who grab their prey off playgrounds, or out of those ridiculous McDonalds play centers where the kids are alone while daddy gorges on burgers and fries and shakes? Blindfold the kid, even though he saw his molesters face since walking around a park or a restaurant with a ski mask in mid-summer is kind of fucking obvious?  Haul him off in an old van that is nevertheless distinctively marked in a way the kid is sure to remember?  Forcibly fuck his holes on a ratty mattress you conveniently have in the back?  Then drop him off somewhere near where the amber alert has already gone out and cops are swarming, accompanied by threats of what will happen if he opens his little yap for anything but more cock? And then escape? At least for a while?

Well, yes, some of us are like that. But some of us are more...sophisticated, subtle.  And at times just as rude and crude.  Pedophiles are adaptable to what the circumstances require.

And we, my husband and I, have had some fine boy twat from a park. And a McDonalds. Although that was because the boys sixteen year old brother/babysitter recognized what we were...like calls to like, after all...when we, quite legitimately, stopped just for breakfast on our way through this city (highway repair, weird ass detour) on a vacation trip to see my younger brother.  And ended up with a five year old happy meal.  In a recessed warehouse doorway, in a nearby alley (older brother had obviously done this before), the kid...names were unimportant for obvious reasons...was happy with my husbands longer and fatter cock all the way down his throat, spewing cum, and happy with my shorter but boy cunt filling cock doing the same into his bowels. Older brother was happy with a pair of twenties. He was going to hold out for fifty, but since he got to fuck my talented face while straddling his impaled baby bro, he knocked ten off the price.

I dont, however, think the little one was quite as happy about my husband and I filling his mouth and his tight little cunny with hot piss. That had been part of the reason for stopping...fill our bellies, empty our bladders. Since our belly budget was more than blown on boy pussy, and not surprisingly we didnt plan on sticking around once wed happily finished our kiddy meal, we made use of available resources.

Hey, if the boy is going to be a whore, he has to learn to enjoy all the liquids men are willing to give him.  Hell, if wed had more time we could have given him a lesson in eating out raunchy mens asses.  Mine, with its thick brown pussy lips from a lifetime of being well-used, and smooth as a babys bottom since thats the way my husband likes me. And his, not quite as well-used but versatile, and thickly hairy with all the interesting raunch that can be caught up in those hairs.

When we left, older brother was holding a slightly struggling younger brother in place, obviously using the kid as a urinal, too. Our shared glance as we got in the car expressed our curiosity about how older bro was going to explain away younger bro smelling of cum and piss, as well as the tee and shorts and smooth, plump legs and face wet with the piss he couldnt contain.  Or maybe daddy had sent them out and wouldnt mind? Not our problem.  We drove away happy.

I digressed.

I suspect that may happen again. Picture me shrugging.

Im Marvin Hamilton.  Yes, those Hamiltons.  Not either of the main branches with all that money.  Hamilton Park. Hamilton Academy. Hamilton Industries. Blah, blah, blah.  Daddy was more of a twig on a remote, really remote branch. Though like apples, acorns, and trees, daddy and I didnt fall far at all.  Not considering how well-molested I was, and how many times I came in the process, the one time we visited my distant relatives. Daddy used to like to watch when I was getting used, especially if I had cock up my ass, though daddy never did fuck me.  I wondered, but never questioned, and it wasnt until years and years later, right after Id sucked him off and he was relaxed and happy in the ratty old recliner he got to keep in the divorce, that I finally asked and he finally said hed been afraid that Id tell someone.

Id been sucking my daddy since I was six, and probably earlier, without ever telling anyone. Id been fucked with as much regularity as I could manage once my Uncle Walt took my cherry at eight, and never told. But I never did get my daddys dick in my talented pussy, and he died not too long ago at 88.  Hed enjoyed his birthday present, though. Me on all fours sucking his daddy dick, my husband behind me so daddy could watch my cunt being fucked.

Another digression. Sue me.

Im 75.  Five six. 170 now, but 145 most of my life. Brown eyes. Large, squarish glasses.  Almost six inches, uncut. Hairless from pits to balls, partially because Ive never had much chest or belly hair, mostly because I keep myself shaved.  Silver hair on my head though receding a bit up front.  A silver mustache and goatee. Long sideburns. Long, talented tongue. Well-used, talented cunt that knows how to milk a cock.

My husband...yes, we were one of the lucky California ones before our fucking Supremes fucked us over...is Bill Prentiss.  73. Though the lying bastard should be 78. (Maybe Ill tell you what that means, maybe not.)  Tall, dark, fucking handsome then, when we met, when I was sixteen, still fucking handsome now.  Six two.  A solid 185 mostly, though hes crept up to 200. A little over seven and a half thick cut inches. Bastard still doesnt need glasses, either.

* # * #

Ive decided that means I got interrupted while typing this.  Could mean I just had to take a piss or shit break. Could mean I was taking another type of piss break. Could mean...well, any fucking thing at all, or fucking nothing. And since Ive been known to be the occasional bitch in my life, I may or may not tell you what happened in the break.

This time, Ill tell.

Antoine Marquette came by, unannounced.  But nine year old, dark haired, dark eyed, tanned all over, slender little boys rarely call in advance. He was accompanied by Petraeus. One of the familys Rottweilers. Antoines divorced father, Joseph, and Antoines great-uncle Pierre breed and train dogs. They breed Rottweilers, Danes, Shepherds, mastiffs.  They train any breed for everything from basic commands for a family, to guard dogs, to military and law enforcement dogs.

Papa Joseph and Uncle Pierre, however, have a very strict rule.  Little Antoine cannot be fucked by any of their specially trained dogs without an adult to supervise.  And perhaps participate.  When it comes to Bill or me, there is no perhaps about participation. Although Bill was at the mall (shopping, ostensibly, quite possibly cruising the food court or the toilets to find us an afternoon delight) when Antoine and Petraeus came through the yard, onto the patio, into the house, and right up to my office.

Im horny, he whined when he walked in. I saved this, and turned away from the computer and my desk.  He wouldnt have had to say anything, since I was quick to gather up clues like the stiffie pushing out his barely-there shorts, and the half-hard the dog was sporting. I was already naked and cock-ringed, so while Id been half hard myself, playing a little with my dick while I typed and thought about all the tales I wanted to tell about Bill and me, I was full hard the moment I saw the two of them.  Kid cock and dog cock...together...do that to me.

Inside or outside? I asked.

Outside.

We have a specially built eight foot privacy fence, although there are no neighbors to the south since thats a busy street.  Bill and I had often joked that if wed had an eight year old Timmy of our own, we could have put an unobtrusive door in the fence, and put in a playhouse with three specially-drilled, carefully smoothed gloryholes in the side facing the fence, and then all three of us could have sucked off the men whod stick their cocks through once word got around. Alas, we dont.

Although our house is two stories, east and west of us are sprawling single story homes. So plenty of privacy when the gate is locked.  I asked the question, and Antoine pertly rolled his eyes at me, shoved his shorts down, stepped out of them, and played with his tiny pricklet.  Which Petraeus promptly licked. I promptly spurted precum.

Lubed?

Another what kind of a dummy do you think I am, old man? eye roll. But he still came over, turned around between my spread legs so his ass was toward me, and leaned forward, bracing his hands on his skinny knees. Such a tiny, tight twat, all glistening.

Wed met Joseph two years earlier in a rather rough bar. Bill and I liked it for the back room where I could get used, if thats what Bill wanted, or we might find someone to tie up and enjoy, or someone to help Bill tie me up and enjoy me. I am not sure what attracted Antoine to us, whether he has some K9 equivalent of gaydar, but after multiple beers and verbal tap dancing...You guys wanna get fucked by my dog? is not exactly something you just drop into a conversation...we wound up at Josephs home.  Which turned out to be only five blocks from ours. And we met Black Something Something (I never did get the dogs full AKC name when we were introduced, as I was down on the floor heading for his cock).

Joseph calls a spade a spade, which is an appropriate pun since once I had licked the dog into an incredibly magnificent hardon, and I was properly naked, properly greased up, properly cunt eased, first four of Bills fingers, then four of Josephs longer, hairier, thicker fingers, and in the proper bitch position, with the Dane behind me, he said, Nigger, fuck! And just like that I was mounted!

Even loosened a bit that was still a fucking huge cock to have shoved in my ass that fast. Bill and Joseph enjoyed the humor of my shout. I enjoyed the rare feeling of dog dick in my hole, once the pain morphed into pleasure.  

Joseph explained that when the dog was born, his coat reminded him of a tall, muscled, shaved-head, nigger Marine MP with skin that black and shiny, who loved getting fucked by any white man who could get hard for him, but loved getting fucked even more by the dogs they used on the base.  The Marine would mutter or howl or beg, fuck mah nigger ass! when being used. Joseph thought the turnabout was fun. So did I.

Even more when Bills familiar cock bred my throat while Nigger-the-Dane pounded my pussy. And Josephs longer, fatter meat did the same, managing the timing pretty well, since he started pumping his seed down my throat only a few strokes after I began cumming in Bills mouth and my clamping cunt finally sent Nigger over the edge, too.  Once I was unknotted and Nigger was off to the side, leg in the air, licking his cock, the three temporarily sated pervs just lay there, sweaty, messy, and me with my pussy muscles clamped tight so as not to lose the load on Josephs carpet.

Thats when Bill, who had seen the father-grandfather (actually great-uncle)-boy photo I hadnt noticed, began to introduce the subject of children into our post-fuck conversation.  Whos the handsome boy?  The older man?  Blah, blah, proud, great kid, great-uncle Pierre. Grandfather died last year.

No offense intended. Picture reminds me of another boy. Video I saw. Kid looked just like yours. Young.  Five, six, seven. Sucking off his daddys big dick. Then daddy letting a dog have him, while daddy fucked the boys mouth and jacked his tiny prick. Illegal, I know.  Dont own a copy, of course. Just saw it. But....

A lie of course.  About the video.  It was actually a real daddy, a real kid, a real dog a whole bunch of years ago, in a dusty barn on a farm. But pedos are natural born liars, or they learn the skill, since its so vital to our profession.

Now when youre naked, and youve just blown wads together in a way that most fags would find too, too, too perverse, and youre talking, and someone says something that fucking turns you on even if it happens to be illegal, immoral or fattening, you cant exactly conceal your interest when your cock gets hard. And we all started stroking as Bill provided more details of the boy fuck on the video.

Which led to Josephs admission that he and Uncle Pierre had been molesting little Antoine since he was four (almost immediately following the divorce), using him to help train the boy-fucking/man-fucking dogs since he was almost six. Which led to Bill and Joseph felching the doggy cum out of my hole, sharing it all around, and then using the last bit as lube so Bill could fuck me and then Joseph. After which Nigger licked my cummy cunt while I jacked off.

Even though we live close, it wasnt as if we had dog sex or kid sex with the Marquettes on a really regular basis.  But often enough, once Joseph and Pierre had seen, that first time, what experienced and skilled pedos Bill and I were and how well we molested Antoine, and the number of dry cums we provided the boy.  But still, often enough that Antoine knew that if either or both of us were home he could get molested if he wanted to, or wed help him with one of the dogs.

Which brings us back to me checking his cunt to see if it was well-lubed.  

It was.

And checking to be sure it was loosened a bit.

It wasnt.

Okay, so it was. I fucking lied.  See above.

I licked and slurped his pussy, dropped spit on my cock, moved forward so my ass was just on the edge of the chair, used a finger to push my cock parallel to the floor, and backed him up.  While my almost-six inches, which slid easily all the way in, certainly are nowhere as big as Petraeus dick, it was at least as good, if not better than, four thick fingers for loosening him up.

Thats my story and Im sticking to it.

We enjoyed several minutes of 75-year-old-man-fucking-9-year-old-boy action, both of us knowing I wasnt going to cum right then.

When I had, so fucking reluctantly, had enough, I eased him off my now shiny meat, my cock head bright red, the skin pulled back in a thick ridge around my knob, got up, and then hand in hand, our stiffies pointing the way, the horny Rottweiler following we went to the back yard.  Bill and I always kept a good supply of lube inside, in the air conditioning, right by the patio door, and we made a swing by the freezer in the kitchen to grab a fresh bottle of poppers. Plus another pause at the toy chest.

Five minutes later we were out on the thick grass, a ball gag (the ball bright red) in the boys mouth since he tended to scream when doggie dick went into his pussy the first time in a fuck session, the boy on all fours, his skinny hips up in the air, resting on his forearms, snorting poppers. I sucked Petraeus cock to help get him ready, inhaling the smells of dog, sun, grass, sweat, lube, poppers, boy pussy. Got the dog in position, his pointy prick nudging the well-used pussy lips, but he was well trained.  He waited until I told him, Petraeus, fuck! before shoving eight or nine inches of doggy dick all the way into the kids cunt.

The scream would have been heard as far away as Antoines house if the gag hadnt handled it. As it was, only I could hear and enjoy.

I played with Antoines titties, with his stiffie, with his tiny balls, kept him in a drugged popper haze as Petraeus fucked and fucked and fucked, finally shoving in, accompanied by another, but more feeble, still muffled, scream as the dog knotted up and spewed doggy cum into the boys bowels.  When he finally shrank enough to pull out, definitely before the boy was really ready, Antoine wanted to collapse on the ground. But I held him up, hands on his hips, fingers tight, thumbs spreading his cheeks, so I could admire the gaping raw cunt with doggy slime oozing out.

I dipped my head and sucked as much of Petraeus cum out as I could, selfishly swallowing it all. Have I mentioned that pedos look out for themselves first, last and always, with only occasional straying into concern for someone else?  (Though Bill and I, having partnered our pedo way together for 58 years, were an exception to that rule. Well, when it came to just the two of us. Everyone else can fuck off, unless were in the mood to be gracious.)

As much as Antoine just wanted everything to be over at that moment, since Petraeus had fucked the boy long and hard and given him quite a few kid cums, he also knew he had to pay me, if I wanted him to, for watching him and making sure he was safe. No cash, of course, just the use of whichever hole I wanted, or both. I chose his pussy.

Given what I had been writing before he interrupted me, and the memories that brought back, plus the normal excitement of big dog fucks little boy action, I spilled into him in just a few minutes.  Then pissed into him until his belly was distended, and made him clamp his cunt muscles tight and waddle in so he could dump in the bathroom.  At todays prices Ill be damned if Ill spend the extra money in effect watering the lawn off-schedule to clean up cum and piss from a great dog and boy sex show. A flush or two is far cheaper.

When he was done cleaning himself up, he ran upstairs to retrieve his shorts, put them on, and came back with Petraeus leash. I was sprawled on a chaise, but I pulled him down for a tongue-fucking kiss, and then pushed his head down so he could finish the job and clean my still sticky meat off.

He headed home, I relaxed a couple of minutes more, and then came back to my desk.

End of the interruption.

Which brings us back to the prologue point. An introduction.

You now have something of an idea about Bill and Marv, and who and what we are. And that were both experienced, talented pedos, with more than six decades each of boy fucking (and, I admit, the occasional little girl fuck as well) background, training, skill and expertise.

I havent a fucking clue how often Ill get interested, and hard enough to write. To tell you some pedo tales of me and Bill. Every single one Gods fucking absolute truth.

Like the seven year old in the train station in Texas in 68....

Interested?
 5 

