PEDO PRIEST CONFESSION COLLECTION 04

By DannyR  (MMM/bbb, M/t, b/b, oral, anal, incest, ws, extreme pedo, racial epithets)
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.

SPECIAL NOTE:  Theres this pervert I know (Steve, if youre interested) who had this fantasy about a bunch of American soldiers raping the hell out of a bunch of little boys somewhere over the fucking ocean in the Middle East.  What else could I do but possibly try to give him what he wanted?

PEDO PRIEST CONFESSION COLLECTION 04

They killed Hoss and Binky.

The motherfucking ragheads murdered two of my squad after we just saved their fucking asses.

Okay, so it isnt literally my squad since Sarge is in charge and Im the no longer unarmed chaplain.  Father Henry for real, Father Hank if someone wants a response. 

We fucking rescued the school, getting shelled by insurgents, took the fuckers out, came back to check, and the ragheads we saved, the fucking shits, they sent an eight year old...eight goddamn fucking years old...out to greet us with a bomb under his coat. Not a very good bomb from their perspective, I guess. It left little chunks of the boy spattered about, bigger chunks of Hoss and his gear, and ripped off Binkys right leg. He would have died anyway, but a teenager with a knife managed to cut his throat before Sarge blew his fucking head off.  Fuckers still owed us another body. A minimum of one goddamned more. Yes, Lord, a fucking eye for a fucking eye, or better yet, a motherfucking raghead or three for each Marine down.

Im amazed Sarge didnt lose it, shift the gun to fucking automatic and mow them down, kids and all. Binky was...special to Sarge.  We dont fucking ask, we dont fucking tell, but we all fucking know. Knew, I guess, now.  Im not sure if the rest of the squad knew that when it came to Binky and Sarge, it was Sarge whose ass was getting plowed. Rough, too. Every other time the squad saw Sarge in action he was the leanest meanest Marine fucking machine top. Like the night we all met in a really sleazy bar in Berlin, before shipping out.

Sarge, Binky, Hoss, Tango. Okay, let me explain. Except for Sarge, the then other __ guys in the squad all went by nicknames, mostly of the because he isnt variety, most bestowed in some bout of drinking.  You werent fully a part of Sarges squad until you had a nickname. Though oddly enough the nicknames were private. If anyone else was around you went by your last name.

So.

Hoss...because he wasnt. If he was a hair over the minimum Marine height you couldnt tell. Maybe 110 naked and wet, and Hoss liked being naked and wet, especially if the wet was piss. Strong little bastard who could haul his weight around and more for as long as his brothers needed him to. 

Binky.  A real, live, down home bama boy, all corn-fed, aw-shucks and shit.  But one night in a bar he was telling some fucking story or other, pretending to be Binky (a Boston Brahmin type), which struck the squad as fucking hysterical at the time, and the nickname stuck.

Mini-Me. At 6 8 and 275, the biggest in the squad.  Juggles Humvees for relaxation. With the height, the weight, the muscles, you figure hes on steroids or just to equal things out for the rest of us God would give him a small dick. No such fucking luck. Its a goddamn 9.5 uncut inches with a long foreskin. So if you have a hole you want used by that dick youre very lucky indeed.

Bruiser: late 30s, average looks, wireframe glasses. If he had a regular haircut hed look like someones dad, living in the suburbs, doing the backyard barbecue thing.  Which is what he is.  Six and a half slender inches, with fucking sweet cum.

Tango...because he couldnt.  Five eleven, black as the good old ace of spades, not as hung as the stories lead you to believe, six solid fat inches (of course I know, Ive had it in my ass and mouth often enough), and no fucking rhythm at all. He got his nickname the night Fred, a/k/a Astaire, got him drunk enough to try the tango in the barracks (good old boys just horsing around) and he fell flat on his ass.  Multiple times.

Astaire, on the other hand, is no tall, homely, lean marine dancing machine. Hes tall though not as tall as Mini-Me and built like the Hulk in the after-getting-pissed-off stage and ugly as sin, but damn can that boy dance. You name it, he can do it, or if he cant hell pick it up as soon as hes shown how. He can also rip your arms off without breaking a sweat, and put a snipers bullet through your eye, hell, through a specific hair in your nose, from a thousand yards. Ive heard he also shoots around corners but cant personally verify it. A nice slender eight inches with a fucking mushroom cap thats like an apple.

Cash. A homely, big-nosed Jew from the Bronx. Proud to be a stereotype who handles the investments of the squad. Yeah, he got them investing through his Uncle Jacob, and theyre not going to retire millionaires if they make it, but hes made them money. And if they need to bargain for something Cash is front and center. Always scheming to make a buck and usually succeeds. Six inches, obviously cut.

Prince because he looks like the singer, and couldnt carry a note if the guy next to him was holding it for him. Nice little five inches, very suckable.

Blender...not the Mixmaster variety. Hard body, tats, when hes on hes the first person you see in a room even with Mini around, yet when he turns himself off he has a way of going absolutely still and vanishing. Freaking blends into the background. When hes not in front of you, if he doesnt want you to hear or see him coming or going, you dont. Actually, thats true even if he fucking is in front of you. Saved our collective asses a couple of times, too, with his invisible man shit.  Seven inches.

Sting. Not the singer, the freaking fish. Sarge is the one who knows this shit, gave him the name. You dont bother a stingray, it dont bother you. You step on one, piss it off, you wind up with a stinger inside you, hurtin like a mothafucka. Our boy Sting doesnt look freaking dangerous at all. The sting comes from the knives he carries. I think there are 47. Killed a man in Marrakech who attacked him and Bruiser who was a little worse for wear, a combination of beer and worry over the birth of his next child.  (The boy was born two days later, just fine). When hes in sting mode, his eyes are flat and hard.  Fat, fat, fat seven inches.

Sarge.  Black Irish, black hair, blue eyes, pale skin that never seems to burn or tan. Not the biggest, not the smallest, but when hes in the room hes the center of everything.  You notice him first, not last. Hairy, too, and a hefty eight inches.

Oh, yeah.  Me.  No nickname, and what with being a priest and all, Im not sure Ill ever get one.  Father Hank.  Forty, ex-jock heavy with a bit of a gut. Marine short, brown hair getting salty a bit. Nine inches. Uncut.
 
Dick sizes with the nicknames?

Why the fuck not?  When youre the squads three-dollar priest, whos had them all more than once, I sure as hell know what kind of meat theyre packing.

Binky is in a body bag. We dont leave anyone behind. We have some of Hoss gear, his dog tags, to bring back. The rest was just...gone.  So many fucking fragments. Nothing to take back, to send home for burial.

Sarge had stopped somehow. I was the only one in position to see his eyes after he shot the man who knifed Binky. He was on the edge of that precipice, the kind in war where you step off and start a free fall, doing first one little thing that was outside the rules of engagement, then another and another and another until you were utterly lost. For just that moment, he was utterly lost.  The fucking war, the men, his men, wounded and killed, the days-long battle that had just ended, and then this. He was ready to step off the edge, and I knew that what he saw in my eyes was not judgment, but acknowledgment. If he wanted to go all Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Sarge, he knew Id back him. That we all would.

But he didnt. Once he forced himself to make sure what his eyes and soul already knew, that Binky was dead, he did what needed to be done. This had been a school, obviously just for boys, before their own fucking people pretty much destroyed it. The squad rounded up everyone. We wound up with six little boys, a youngish teen boy, and four adult males. We put them in what might have been a classroom, with one window, one door. Stripped them naked, every fucking one of them, tossed their clothes, their sandals, in a heap. Clothes had concealed the bomb that killed our men, no way were we allowing that risk, despite the outrage when sign language and one ripped off shirt and pair of shorts finally got the message across:  Get the fuck naked.

The naked little boys were huddled together, but the men and the teen were murmuring obscenities about us, between themselves, celebrating the victory, the martyrdom of Abu Bakr, who had blown himself up, who would indeed be a companion of Muhammad in paradise now. Arrogant, confident, that little group. They had succeeded in killing two infidels, and the infidels had done nothing, would do nothing, their rules did not allow it now that the fighting was over. Perhaps, they whispered, they could get another of us. Or just wait. After all, we were Americans. They were civilians. We had to release them.

The old man explained all that to them. And once they were free they could continue to train the boys. The parts for the bombs were well hidden, we would never find them. They could then kill more of us, and if not us in particular, then any American would do. The laughter was in their eyes rather than their voices.

Train the boys.

A fucking school for suicide bombers and martyrs.  Starting with the youngest, who couldnt be more than fucking two, because who would ever believe that that fat little boy was actually a skinny boy wearing a bomb when he walked up to present some senior American official with some poor little boys gift.

Sting took the door; Cash took the window.

I told Sarge. I am fairly fluent in Arabic, less so in Kurdish, a skill I dont advertise and rarely use. That day it was necessary.  

His immediate reaction was regret that he hadnt just gone ahead and stepped off the fucking precipice anyway. The rest of the squad, already angered by the cowardly deaths, started to go all Vesuvius when they heard what the ragheads were planning. One little group thought they should have just shot them all to begin with, another wanted to just go ahead and do it and then blow the evidence up. What caught my attention most was the voice in the group, Ive never known who, that said, Fuckers oughta be punished.

I almost wish I could say that someone else suggested it. The punishment.  But it wasnt.  It was my idea.

Like I said, the squad knew I was a queer priest. But I was their queer priest.  And even the five straight men had used my mouth and ass often enough to get over the too-drunk-to-remember shit and just used me when they needed to get their rocks off.  Sarge fucked me occasionally, but he had Binky pretty much full time. Sting, Mini, Hoss and I had played often, too, not worrying too much on who was topping or bottoming at any given moment.

But the moment I saw the naked dark skinned little boy, the five year old (as I found out), standing there, with his little stiffie sticking straight out, I knew how to punish them. The men knew I was queer, but they didnt know I was a pedo by preference. Give me a choice between a young boy to fuck and getting my own ass shagged by a big dicked stud, Id pick door number three. Me fucking the kid while getting fucked by the stud. So just mentioning the idea could maybe get me in a world of trouble, a world of hurt, dishonorable discharge, the whole nine fucking yards. Maybe more. A little not-so-friendly-fire bullet to my head.

On the other dick, these were men used to sticking their dicks into male holes for fun and cums. And they were on edge, furious, more so now they knew what was planned for them and their buddies later on, even buddies who werent known by name but who were buddies nevertheless because they were American fighting men.

Fuck em, I said softly to the group, even though we were away from the room of prisoners. I wasnt taking any chances that someone in the group of naked men and boys was like me, pretending not to understand the other sides language.
 
The phrase was repeated angrily by a couple of the squad, just general pissed-off agreement. But Sarge didnt say anything. He just stared at me. Bastard knew I had an idea; could probably tell it wouldnt exactly make him happy. But it might get him some revenge.

I inhaled. Exhaled. Show time. No. I mean it.  Fuck them. We got cameras. Rape their sand nigger asses and mouths, maybe beat the shit out of em when were done, tell em if they ever do anything against Americans well show the pics and the vids on the Net, showing how cooperative they were, how much fucking fun they were having, and theyll never get to paradise.

The violence that itched to pull triggers began to turn to the violence that put a cock in an unwilling cunt.

Tango laughed. An ugly fucking laugh. Anybody got a bag? Gotta put it over the old mans head to keep from getting all soft n shit. With a bag we can pretend its one of Father Hanks tight hot holes!

I laughed along with most of the others.  When youre a chaplain, a priest, and the squad slut, you dont take offense at truth.

Bruiser, straight father of four, joined in with, Fuck em, yeah. Nine of us, four of them, two of us for each one. And one of you pricks gets sloppy thirds.

More laughter.  Another breath. Mine. The real  show time. Not the men. Or, well, not just  the men.  The others.

Fuck the kids? Astaire whispered.  Thats...thats fucking sick, padre.

He paused, while they all stared at me. Jesus, padre, you...you one of them fuckin pedo priests or somethin?

Yeah. Which was precisely why the idea was such a turn on for me; precisely why I was hard and aching already. I opened my mouth to answer, maybe to try to persuade them, maybe to get the fucking combat boot out of my mouth, when I got help from an unexpected source.  Sarge.

Sarge who just sort of looked like some avenging angel right then, gonna do him some righteous justice for Binky, not with some flaming sword, but a red hot cock.

Hey, Astaire, how fuckin sick is it for a little boy, what, the little raghead shit was six, seven, eight, coming out to meet us, all smiles and shit, knowing he was carrying the bomb? And I saw the fucker, man, I fucking saw the fucker set it off.  You gonna be a man and go to war, no matter what your fuckin age is, you gotta take the consequences. We rape just the men, the boys watch and hate us even more.  I say we give em something to really hate us about. And when weve opened up the sandies boy cunts, we take pics of their men rapin the kids, too. How do you think thatll play in Mecca or Baghdad or what the fuck?

Prince chimed in with, Do you really think the raghead menll get stiff for that? And just like that, it was a done fucking deal. We were working on the details now, not if or whether.

Find out how old the boys are, Hank. Ah, not a priest just now, just one of the men. Here. He tossed me a handgun. Binky...fuck...Binky wouldnt mind you havin that for protection.

I walked into the room, the rest of the squad crowding in behind me, one of them filling in Sting at the door. Sarge shouted out to Cash to leave his post at the window and come on fucking down.

I walked over to the group of men, and one teen, seated in the dirt. I pointed my gun at the old man, waggled it to make him understand he was to get up. He smirked at me. I cocked the gun and set the barrel against the forehead of the man closest to me. I gave him a thumbs-up gesture and he stood. Sixties I guess. Bushy eyebrows, bushy grey beard. A hairy belly, a long cock surrounded by grey pubes. Small balls. My dick twitched at the thought of the old mans meat hard and in one of the kids cunts.

There are no blessings of Allah on a man who uses children for war. Tell me the names and ages of the boys. I was, of course, speaking in Arabic. The guys had figured out I must know something of the language since Sarge gave me the order, but they could tell from the way the words flowed that I wasnt speaking some pidgin, but the real deal.  They were surprised. The fucking ragheads were shocked. Open-mouthed gaping shock.

The old man recovered more quickly than the others. Shook his head. So fucking confident that he knew us, knew Americans in general, knew me and the men whod loved our two dead brothers the way men in combat have always loved, knew what we would, what we would not, could not do.

I backhanded him with my free hand.

Probably bruised myself a bit.  More than bruised the old man, cut his face open with the championship ring I wear from the Rose Bowl my senior year in college.

He looked at my insignia, at the cross around my neck, worn outside my uniform. But...but youre a priest.

I lifted the gun away from the sitting mans head, pointed it at the old man. In Arabic:  A warrior priest, old man. One of the Knights Templar back to crusade against the infidel. The infidel who have murdered two of my flock. What does the Lord my God command of me?

I paused. Tell me their names and ages.

I dont know whether it was the cocked gun in his face, the expression on my face, or simple awareness of eight armed and angry American marines in the same room with all these naked men and boys. He gave in.

The two year old was Faruq (wise); the three year old was Dawud (David); the five year old with the stiffie was Haroun (superior); the seven year old was Jamal (handsome); the eight year old twins were Anwar (the brightest) and Amir (ruler).  The thirteen year old was Omar (first born son). The 25 year old was Nazir (observant); the 34 year old was Taysir (makes easier). The 36 year old who looked in his late forties was Zakir (smart). The old man at 67 was Raid (ruler).

I ordered the men to stand, and then in English told the guys to tie their hands behind their backs, and make a kind of hobble on their ankles, like prisoners with ankle chains being led into court, shuffling slowly. I made them kneel down in a line in front of the window, their knees slightly spread for balance. When Omar was added to the row, I noticed his slender teen meat starting to plump up as he was bound. So did several of the squad.

I introduced the young boys to the men who were about to rape them, standing them in a row from youngest to oldest.  Five year old Haroun stayed stiff as I got them into position.

Six boys, eight marines, one marine priest. Six to fuck, three to cheerlead and watch and guard and wait their turn. Theyd all had sloppy seconds or thirds or fourths in my ass before, so the idea of having to wait a turn and then slide your hard dick into a freshly raped boy hole made slick and slimy by a buddys cum, was definitely not a turn off.

There was an almost awkward moment of what-the-fuck-next before Sarge grunted and walked over to the eight year old twins. He squatted down, said Amir?

The two stubbornly pursed their lips and shook their heads. Sarge simply stretched out his strong, hairy right hand, grabbed the nearest twin by the throat and squeezed. The boys eyes bulged out.

Amir? he asked again. The child frantically nodded. Still holding the boy by the throat, Sarge kind of duck-walked backwards, knelt in the dust, let the boy go. The kid began gasping and choking. Sarge just forced him onto his hands and knees, his fear-shriveled little dicklet and tiny balls barely visible. Sarge began undoing his pants, hauled out that familiar, to me at least, meat. It was hard and oozing.

Raid shouted in Arabic, as he realized what the unzipping, dick hauling, meant. No! You cannot do this. They...they are children.

America has a new policy, I told him.  If children war on us, we war on children. If they are old enough to be trained to be soldiers, old enough to kill my brothers, they are old enough to be raped as men.

For the first time, the old man looked unsure.  Good. Fucking excellent.

Six of us will rape your little boys, while three guard and watch. And when those three have had their turn, it will be your turn. We will choose a child for each of you, and each of you will join in the rapes, while we record what you do.

Zakir moaned No. You...you cannot make us. 

His tone was thinking that a mans dick does not rise on command. His mind and his tone were wrong. I enlightened him. Fuck or die. Nazir gasped.  You will get hard and fuck one of the chosen ones holes or we will kill him, and then shoot out both your knees so you will be a cripple and a beggar for as long as you live, always remembering that if only you had fucked a little boy, you and he would have survived.

I let the squad in on the fun. They laughed, the kind of wild and terrifying laughter the Mongol hordes undoubtedly made before overrunning a Chinese village, pillaging and raping, and piling the skulls high.  The prisoners cringed. Omars cock twitched. He was almost half hard.  Looked like he might be about Princes size, maybe even a bit bigger. I caught Mini-Me watching him. He winked at me. 

Sarge looked at the bulges or starting bulges of his mean.  Mini, Blender, Sting. You get sloppy seconds.  Not a wince, not an objection. All three groped their crotches, getting in the mood.

Sarge turned his head to me.    Hank.

I looked at him.  Pick the one you want.

Thats all he said, but his eyes sent me a private message.  The fucking bastard knew.  Knew I was not just a pedo wannabe but an experienced kid fucker. And he didnt care. Knew I wanted the two year old, knew I hurt for wanting to rape the kid, and he didnt fucking care.  Got your back, buddy, he silently said.

I put my gun back in the holster, walked over to the line of killers in waiting, yearning to be free. I yanked Faruq by his hair, half walking half dragging him over to the wall. I told the boy to not move as I sat down, my back against the wall, and opened my pants, hauling out all nine fucking dripping inches.

Have you had a mans cock in your boy cunt before, sandie?

The boy understood that the last word was mean, though he probably had never heard it before. The rest of the words only confused him. I pulled him to me, slapped his ass hard enough to bruise, cock twitched at the wonderful yell, hauled him down over my legs, wet my finger and forced it inside his virgin hole. He yelled again and struggled, his brown flesh so warm and hot against my white groin. I repeated my question and he shouted no, tears streaming down his face. Have I mentioned that the grip I had on his neck to keep him down was probably hurting his throat?

My finger still in the wiggling boys pussy, I looked over at Sarge. Didnt say a fucking word. For that moment it was just the two of us, talking in private, though not a word was said, and with no idea whether any of the rest of the squad was overhearing our conversation.

His eyes asked me if I was really a pedo priest, if Id really molested little boys before, whether I could really rape and hurt such a young one.

My eyes let him see the inner, about to be very much out, pedo; see the lust for all the little boys Id used to slake my own lust, and theirs; let him see my memory of Hoss and Binky so he knew that I sure the fuck could rape and hurt this littlest one, and any of the others I got my hands on or dick into.  Let him see, too, that I couldnt be the first to fuck.

The slow, lazy smile was only in his eyes. He understood only too well. A part-naked sergeant, the unquestioned boss, on his knees with his hardon on display for the first time to all of his men at once, holding an eight year old naked Arab boy on all fours, prick near pussy, not yet moving. A part-naked priest with his finger up the asshole of a struggling, oh so tiny two year old boy. My idea, these rapes, yeah. But if I went first, I was confirming to all the men I was a disgusting pedophile priest like theyd heard and read about, and the whole revenge thing could fall apart.  But if Sarge went first, Sarge, the fearless, Ill follow him to and past the gates of hell, mans man (queer or not), if Sarge raped first, then I was just following orders, being given permission to rape.

The you fucking owe me big time, Hank was, like all the rest of that so rapid talk just in his eyes. Sarge spat on two fingers, and roughly shoved them inside the kid, using his other hand to brace the kids shoulder so he couldnt get away from the hairy digital invasion. He looked at me. Tell the raghead cunt that if he tries to get away, I will shoot him, then fuck him, and then find and fuck his whole family before killing them all.

I did. The sandies gasped. Fragile looking Amir froze. Sarge got on his knees. True, he was mostly an insatiable bottom for Binky, but hed topped and topped well before. My ass could attest to that before the Binky hook-up. Even a mans virgin ass was going to hurt when getting fucked the first time. He had some idea of how much it was going to hurt thin little eight year old Amir. His ruthless half-smile, half-grimace said he really didnt give a fuck.

He seated his cock in the boys ass crack, grabbed his hips and yanked. Instead of popping away and sliding up the kids crack, Sarge had done it perfectly. A big 10 for fucking technique. His meat just shoved inside the kids suddenly hurting cunt. All the Marine rapists-in-waiting smiled at the boys scream. The kids brothers, friends, whatever the fuck, had killed Hoss and Binky. Why not?

Straight or queer, my Marines got hard. Maybe not all the way, not right away, but they couldnt help themselves.  Their cocks knew, even if their heads werent quite wrapped around it, that it was gonna be their turn soon to be buried in hot tight sand nigger pussy. Virgin pussy, too.  And how often does a fucking stud get to not only fuck virgin pussy, but do it right. Fast, hard, fucking ruthless.

Jesus fuck! gasped Sarge. Such a tight little hole, guys. Grab you some virgin raghead pussy!

There was still a moment of hesitation as they looked at Sarge slide his slightly bloody cock back out of howling Amirs hole and then he shoved it back in, a look of mixed rage and bliss on his face. They looked at me. I just stared back, one hand holding the terrified two year old in place, straddling my hips, the other holding precum and spit smeared meat. Then Bruiser broke the silence with a soft, Fuck, yeah, padre, walked over to me, dropped to one knee, grabbed the tiniest boys waist, forced him into position, and then straight as straight can be family man Bruiser, father of at least one boy around the same age, forced the two year old down on my cock, made the baby boy sit on my fat pedo prick, fucking smiled as the boys screams added to the music of well-raped Amir.

When the boys impossibly stretched two year old hole was bleeding on my crotch, Bruiser quietly asked which one was the three year old. I pointed out little Dawud as he turned to look, then got up, moved quickly, almost as if he was afraid someone else would get to his choice first, grabbed the suddenly tearful little one and hauled his naked fat body over to stand in front of me, his eyes wide and fearful as he looked at his fucked friend shivering on my lap.  I harshly told him not to move, or the American would gut him.

Bruiser dropped trou completely so he was half naked, ignoring the dirt as he plopped his ass next to mine. I ordered little Dawud to straddle the Marine, enjoying the terror in his face since he had already seen what I had done to tiny Faruq, knew what was about to be done to him.  Bruiser slimed up two fingers and then forced them into Dawuds baby virgin hole.  The kid screamed, though not as loudly as he would.

The old man shouted at us, pleading, stopped, and then looked appalled at what hed revealed. Well, fuck me. Please. Little Dawud was the old mans grandson.  I shared the good news with the team, and we all knew who was going to be the first raghead to get filmed fucking well-fucked baby boy hole. 

Moments later, screaming little Dawud knew the agonies of having a fathers kindly six and a half inches of daddy meat plunged into his raped virgin hole. While his grandfather watched, tears in his eyes, helpless.  I taunted the old man with the fact that he had brought this on himself, on his precious grandson, on all the boys and men because he chose to fuck with America.

Seeing Sarge plunging in and out of eight year old boy pussy, the units priest fucking a two year old, and Jesus-fuck-me, nice, straight, family man Bruiser with his cock in three year old cunt, let the rest of the men loose.

Prince took five year old Haroun and his still hard boy meat. Hulking Astaire grabbed seven year old Jamal. Cash the Jew got Anwar the Ay-rab.  As my three buddies began their own rapes, raising a cacophony of boy screams into a symphony of revenge and lust, Bruiser whispered, though no one was paying attention, You...youve done this before, havent you?

Two marines side by side in hell, with their cocks in freshly raped baby boy holes. Truth time. I nodded. He opened his mouth, closed it. Opened it again, determined. Can I confess right here?

Fuck, Bruiser, you arent even Catholic. Youre Southern Baptist, right?

Does it matter?

I shook my head.  No, of course not.  He paused, blinked, and I realized he needed a bit of reassurance. And you dont have to do that bless-me-father shit either. I grinned and lifted my bit of sand nigger meat up and shoved it back down again. Another scream. Bliss.

Im sick.

For a second I thought he meant like cancer or something. Then it clicked. Like me?

A blush that anyone who might have noticed would have thought it was just from the way his cock was seated in three year old boy pussy, but Jesus fuck who was going to notice a blush when there were so many howling young boys getting their first taste of Marine meat while their tied up fathers, grandfathers, uncles, what-the-fucks, had to watch. A nod to go with the blush.

I waited, almost too furious to speak, but I held back, wondering why the insult when he could have just not joined in, stood guard or some shit. He paused, lifted little Dawud up and almost off and followed my lead, plunging the boy down again. He smiled as the boy struggled. Looked at me.

All my life.  All my fucking life Ive known I was sick like this. Seeing little boys, even fully clothed, and having my dick twitch and my mind go into fuck mode. Looking at a kid peeing in a toilet, or taking a shower at the pool and I get hard. And then I find some place to jack and tell myself its the last fucking time, Ill never do it again.

Until the next kid.  He paused for a rapid punching fuck that made his sandie flop around. Good fucking idea. I did the same, feeling my slick boy-hurting meat sliding all the way into two year old boy cunt, and out and ramming in again.

And now this. Holy fucking shit, padre, this feels so fucking good.

I grinned at him as we fucked our bawling, vainly struggling, hurting kid cunts.

Bruiser was concentrating on the fucking, but still talking. We get out of this, padre, get home safe, you wanna come fuck my boys?

Talk about holy fucking shit.

He didnt even look at me.  Just grinned as he jammed his meat up inside Dawuds hole, and used strong hands to hurt the boys fat nips. He knew the answer. You can have the little one first, hes about a year now.

Oh, Christ, it had been so long since Id fucked a boy that young. I fucked Faruq even harder. You serious? Me and the babys cherry?

Not my fuckin kid, padre.  My wife doesnt know I know, but yeah, it belongs to my fucking best friend and lawyer, so watching you rape the little shit will be fun.  This time he did look over at me. And if you rape him good, Ill share the others when Ive had their cherries.  Especially my three year old.  David.

From his mouth to Gods ears.

I looked around the room at the rapes. One or two had passed out, the others had stopped screaming and were only crying.  Mini, Blender and Sting were rock hard and watching, but only enough to enjoy, not enough to let the men try anything.  The raghead males were still wide-eyed with horror, old Raids eyes were full of tears and hate. And teen Omars meat was as stiff as the marine standing above him.

I held my new-made whore still as I shouted out, Hey, guys, lets not be selfish pricks. Finish up. There are still a bunch of cocks that need to get into these whore cunts.

Bruiser and I set out to set a good example, raising and lowering our respective sandie pussies on our stiff cocks until we were blasting loads of hot cum up their tiny cunts. The others quickly followed.  After a few moments to pant (pedo sex, especially to pedo virgins, tends to take it out of you), Sarge yanked his meat out of Amir and let him slump to the dirt. We followed his lead and left our well-raped kid whores in the dirt, too.  Stood with our meat hanging out, some gone soft, some still hard. Nobody blushing or looking away. Goddamn, but a good old fashioned pedo sex scene, especially enhanced by raping murderous raghead boys, sure makes for some damn fine male bonding.

The six of us who had just fucked drew our weapons, though it was a struggle for Bruiser at first, since he was trying to get his pants back up, though he left his soft prick dangling.

Take your pick, guys, Sarge said.

Sting headed for five year old Haroun. Since Prince has a fairly small dick, choosing Dawud meant the kids pussy wouldnt be quite as wrecked as, well, little Faruqs given the size of my meat. Blender picked Amir.  Fucking suck up, going after Sarges sloppy seconds. Within moments, the two boys were screaming again. I guess a first rape doesnt get you used to cock in your boy cunt.

Mini had hauled out his oh-so-definitely-not mini-meat. All nine and a half fat fucking inches of it.  Sarge, you mind if I take the edge off with kid here? He seems to be enjoying watching his friends and relatives getting it.

Omar was indeed stiff, and dripping. Mini stepped in front of him, grabbed his long dirty hair with one hand and yanked the young teens head up, mouth level with Minis dick. Padre, tell the little shit Ill kill him if he uses his teeth. Tell him to get my dick wet cause its the only lube hell get when I rape his cunt. Tell him Im going to hurt him, and then hurt him more when Im fucking him.

As I translated Mini and I, maybe some of the others, watched Omar.  The two of us, maybe some of the others, noticed the expression in his eyes when he heard, noticed the way his cock spurted precum. He fucking wanted it. Looking at Minis expression, I figured he was just the one to provide it.

He was. Mini walked over to the clothes pile, picked up a heavy mans leather sandal, worn, of course, well-used, but with a thick sole. His grin was evil as he walked back to Omar. With a little language help from me (try to escape you little shit and hell fucking kill you), Mini rewired the teen sandies wrists in front of him. He kicked him in the side to move him away from the men, knelt on one knee, and with his gun pressed against the side of the young teens head, began pounding his ass with the sole of the sandal.

The sounds cut through the noises of the ongoing rapes, the sound of the well worn leather hitting the boys butt again and again and again, hopefully darkening it, making bruises, raising welts, the boys whimpers, and then sobs and then the outright howls of pain. And all the while we saw, those of us with the right view, how hard his raghead teen meat stayed. Saw the brown spots beneath him where spurts of his precum had darkened the lighter tan of the dirt.

When Mini was finally satisfied with his handiwork, and Omar was a quivering wreck, Mini put his gun away, hauled the boys head around and forced his whole fucking cock down the kids unprepared throat, choking him, making him frantically try to escape as his mouth coughed up spit and phlegm. Mini let him go just before he passed out, then shifted the boy around, straddled him, lined his cock up, and shoved the fucker home.

Too bad we hadnt recorded this. Just the sounds. Perverts around the world, pedos or not, would cum buckets listening to the raw sounds of Marines raping fucking sand niggers. True to his word, something Mini is good at, Mini hurt Omar more.  He twisted and pinched the boys nips until they were swollen and bruised. He picked up the sandal again and sometimes on an out-stroke hed pause with his knob still inside the thirteen year olds fresh new pussy lips, and hit the kids hip or thigh fucking hard, then ram his bloody meat back in balls deep. And then he decided to get his nut, and just grabbed the kids scrawny waist and began pounding hard until he tensed up and we could all tell, those of us whod been paying attention, that he was cumming up the kids cunt.

And Omar? Beaten, bruised, bleeding, hurt raghead teen? He fucking spewed while Mini was doing the same deep inside his pussy. With no one touching his prick.

I made sure that everyone, especially the four adults, knew his shame. After this was all over, would the men just find him a convenient set of holes to use, or would there have to be one of those fucking honor killings?  From the look in Nazirs eyes, it would be the latter. The snapped Filth! that came out of his mouth, as well as spitting, helped to make the point even better. Omar cringed, collapsed onto his side, curled into a fetal position. His gaping pussy began to close, but then opened and shut, opened and shut as Minis milk oozed out.

And fucking Mini was still hard.

I offered him Faruq. The two year old had already had my nine inches, so Minis nine and a half would just open him up deeper and wider. Mini looked at my hardon, down at his, grinned and nodded. Christ! So fucking hot to see a mountain sized marine fully dressed, rifle slung over his shoulder, pick up a terrified, crying two year old sand nigger, turn him so his ass was up, his head, arms, legs, flopping, and then just haul back and force the kids cunt to slide down to Minis pubes. We watched in awe, but not so much awe that we didnt also make sure the raghead adults didnt try anything, as Mini just stood there, lifting the kid cunt up and down, up and down. Some of us even jacked while we watched. No shame in watching live pedo porn, not in this group, not any longer. I barely managed not to cum when Mini did.

Jesus fuck but even in a gang rape, Blender managed to fucking vanish while molesting Amirs bruised, bloody, cummy boy pussy. It was like we didnt even know there was another kid being used until he screamed out his cum moments after Mini.

Sting was still working on Haroun, his cock well up the kids cunt, but besides your basic rape, he was running a variation on his own theme, using one of his knifes to make little cuts, here, there, elsewhere. Not deep, not long, just enough to hurt, to bleed a little. He was having so much fun he looked shocked when Sarge slapped the back of his head and told him to finish. He set the bloody blades down. Hed been working with both hands at the same time, grabbed the in-shock boys waist, and fucked the five year old until he bred the boy. Pulled out and stood up.

Mini reluctantly slid tiny Faruq off his dick, and lowered him to the ground.

Eight Marines and a priest momentarily satisfied their pedo fucks, standing there with their cocks out. Sarge called out, Round two.

I looked around the room and realized that this could all go south, very, very, very fucking far south. If one of us suddenly got a conscience, if one of the ragheads decided to call our bluff and be a martyr.  Too long between the end of the first round of rape and the start of the second, and all this good momentum would be lost.

I suggested forcing Raid down onto his back, and making grandson Dawud suck his grampas sand nigger meat. There were cheers at that idea, and the men implemented it. Dawud struggled but only for a few seconds as he was placed on his knees beside his grandfather, and his little head forced down over grampas dick. He got the sucking message and began a tentative blowjob.  While the men watched and jacked and guarded, and filmed on a couple of their phones, I pulled Sarge aside.

Were fucked.

Sarge nodded.  My stupid idea, hot though it was, could get us all court-martialed, dishonorable discharge, really fucking bad publicity for the Marines and America. If word, or worse, visuals, got out. But God was, after all, on the side of His pedo priest.

If we let them go.

Use them and kill them.  The Sarges voice was flat. He looked over at Dawud who was awkwardly sucking his mostly hard grandfather. I silently praised Jesus for the way the fucking intelligent designer in the sky designed mens dicks to overrule everything else. the kid grunted and a couple of drops of slime oozed out of his raw cunt. Sarge absently reached his hand down and stroked his stiffening meat.

Well, hell, maybe after this was over, on our next leave, Bruiser, Sarge and me could find us some more kiddy cunt for our sick selves to molest. I kept my grin inside.

Because of Binky and Hoss, I was fairly certain Sarge could still do it, even though it was no longer in the heat of the moment. I knew I could. But I wasnt so certain about the rest of the squad.

They were trapped in the place they were hiding all their weapons and ammo. It, ah, unfortunately blew up. Destroying them, the weapons, the, uh, DNA.

I could see the moment when he seriously considered it, even agreed. None of these boys or men would ever harm another American. Or anyone else. And then the moment passed, as Id expected. 

There was a shout. We looked over at tiny Dawud gasping and choking on his grandfathers cum, struggling to swallow it all. 

Mini looked over at me and winked as he arranged the rest of round two.  Omar sucked Nazir to a full hardon, and Mini let him loose so that he could straddle the man whose eyes glared hate, and ease that hefty prick into the thirteen year olds hurting hole. Omar was clearly a fatalist. He knew that if he survived the Americans, Nazir and the others would kill him, maybe with some torture tossed in first, for enjoying his rape. Hed obviously decided to enjoy what sex he could before all that. Sarge and I got all the way hard at the sight of Omar bouncing up and down on Nazirs dick, one hand jacking his nearly hairless teen meat, the other hurting his own tits. He came when Nazir did, and his bright white teen cum spurted up Nazirs body to land in his hair, his eyes, even a couple of globs in his open, gasping mouth.

Anwar and Amir had followed the same routine with Taysir and Zakir, but of course at eight their cums while being fucked by the adults were dry. And frequent.

And all of it was being filmed. We were going to make a fortune on the pedo porn market for Cash to invest and make us even more money. The squad just didnt know it yet.

While all this was going on, Sarge and I were finalizing Plan fucking B. And jacking each other while we talked since the plan was definitely hardon making.  And profitable.

I pulled out the satellite phone my father had given me, with strict instructions it was never to be used except in an emergency. Or if I saw an opportunity for him to make even more profit than his contracts with the government were generating. The special kind of profit he enjoyed so much.

Dad answered with a snarled, This had better be fucking good. Im fucking busy right now.

Id heard that tone before, and in the brief moment before I started speaking, I heard a whimper. I smiled. What dad meant was that he was busy fucking. I wondered how young the boy was. Or if he was breeding a girl for another half-brother (I had five, ranging in age from thirty to six) or half-sister (two, seventeen and eleven). Sandor?

Our code name for my eleven year old sister. His grunt was a yes. Hot damn. He was fucking his own daughter, my sister. I hoped she had a boy. Baby girl pussy is okay, but give me baby boy prick and cunt any day. If she bred a boy, dad would keep her around to breed for a while longer.

And then sell her.

My dad.  Ex-Marine. Wealthy businessman. Holder of numerous governmental security contracts around the world. Access everywhere. Purveyor of the finest flesh to be found.

When I told him I had eleven crates of merchandise for him, talking to his son became worthwhile. Even enough to interrupt a breeding session. I heard him tell Charles to finish. Charles, my fathers right hand, and left hand man. Five years younger than Dad, Charles had been the second man to molest me. After my dad. Hed done it very well, though I was hurting too much at the moment to really appreciate his expertise. I guess dad didnt care who got my sister pregnant, so perhaps she was being bred on order from one of his clients.

Even with a scrambled signal I just told him four of the crates were older vintages, twenty-five years and up, one crate had a well-worn (likes pain) carving about thirteen inches long. Another grunt.  Anyone he sold could be beaten, of course, but to sell a thirteen year old who liked pain, who could be trained to endure more, would bring a very nice price. The rest of the vintages were much newer. A surprisingly good two year old vintage, I told him.

He chuckled and asked if Id sampled it. I chuckled back and told him only once so far, but that I was planning on sampling some of the other more recent vintages before they were picked up. I warned him that some of the crates were damaged, a few more than others, but that with the right carpenters (pedo doctors) they could be repaired and made useful (profitable) in no time at all.

I explained that it was a syndicate that had obtained the merchandise for him, and each one would expect a decent profit out of the transaction, and only a slight inhalation and pause told me he understood I could only be talking about the squad I was with. A whole squad of pedo Marines? I could almost hear the calculations about how to profit even more from this new set of contacts.

Except that all that potential profit would have to be run through me, and Id get my share off the top.  He wasnt about to make direct contact with his suppliers.  Even Sarge didnt know the man I was talking to was my father. We sealed the deal, including royalties on the videos, and hung up. Fuck but if we survived the war we were going to be wealthy.

I left the phone on to guide the chopper dad was sending.

After tying the adults again, and slut Omar as well, Sarge gathered us all together, speaking softly, still in case one of them understood English, though at this point it seemed doubtful.

It got really, really fucking quiet when he explained that they couldnt just let the ragheads go. Not just because of the risk to us and our careers, but the risk to others they might suicide bomb. There are no dummies in our squad. And some of them looked sick at the obvious thought of having to kill them all, though none of them shouted out an objection.

Father Hank, here, however, has a Plan B, that will keep our secret and prevent them from harming anyone ever again. And without killing them.

I didnt correct him with the obvious statement that slaves didnt always survive being enslaved.

We sell them.

This time, mouths dropped open and there were a couple of what-the-fucks.

Time for some new reality for our fighting Marines. Youve heard the stories about wealthy Arabs and what have you buying whites, usually white women, to use as sex slaves?  A few nods, a few widened eyes, and a stupefied Huh? from Bruiser.  Guess hed been repressing his inner pedo for so long he didnt pay much attention to other sex news.

All fucking true. Its a multi-billion dollar business. But.... and here I smiled a very unpleasant smile. But...theres also someone whos into the payback game for fun and profit.

I nodded.  Yeah, I know a guy who knows a guy, whatever, who sells ragheads to whites. I grinned at Tango. Oh, yeah, and hes an equal opportunity kind of guy, and sells them to any blacks who want them as well.

Theyre slaves. Stings voice was that of a man who wanted to be sure he had the facts right. I nodded. Their owners can use them, fuck them, work them, hurt them. Whatever.

Another nod.

And the rest of their fucking lives theyre gonna know we sold em.  He paused. Looked around. Smiled. Hot fucking damn. Im in.

Cash, of course, felt he had to live up to the honor of his nickname and asked how much. Even he was shocked at the amount. Even more shocked when I told him hed also have a revenue stream from royalties from the video that would be made with the clips from their phones. But the money would be carefully laundered before it reached us.

In the meantime, I explained that I had informed our buyer that some of the merchandise was a bit damaged, so while we couldnt do any further damage, or at least not anything more than incidental, inevitable damage, there was no reason we couldnt go ahead and use the soon-to-be slaves until the chopper arrived to take them off our hands.

Three hours later the chopper pilot and then the four armed men who were there to take control of the merchandise found a thoroughly sated, sexually exhausted squad of Marines. Oh, yeah, and their priest, too.

Id managed three more cums, once more in two year old Faruq, three year old Dawud and five year old Haroun, he of the thousand cuts. Every raghead had all of our dicks in their cunts even if we didnt cum in them. Nobody was dumb enough to let one of the men get his mouth on some Marine dicks. That wasnt a worry with Omar, though. He was having too much fun, despite or because of the pain. He deep throated every dick offered to him, keeping his teeth out of the way. And he came five more times while being fucked, though the last couple were pretty much dry.

Nazir, Taysir, Zakir and Raid endured their rapes, their rage growing, but knowing, knowing that soon we would leave. We were Americans. What else could we do?  Raid smile when he heard the chopper. We would be evacuated. We would leave a knife behind so they could get out of their bondage, because we could never let the other Americans who were coming for us know what we had done.  So he told the men, so he told the well-raped little boys lying slumped or sprawled in the dirt, panting, sobbing. Haroun was still stiff, though, and grinning. Omar was getting more nervous the longer Raid spoke, darting glances at Nazir. But at that point the old man fucking knew what would happen and he didnt care if I could understand what he said.

I so enjoyed the horror on his face, on all the adult faces, when four hulking, well-armed, well-armored, not-in-uniform men came into the room. One of them carried a large, obviously heavy bag which clanked when he dropped it. The horror grew as several more things played out.

The leader spoke to me in flawless Arabic, congratulating me on finding such fine merchandise, and holding out a cardboard box (to be burned) which contained two thousand dollars for each of us, a bit of a bonus from dad. Small, unmarked bills, of course. 
That same speech about the gift from the esteemed leader confirmed that the sale price for the slaves would be deposited in my account in the Cayman Islands. That wasnt the actual arrangement, but then he didnt know who I was; he was just following orders. The clanking bag contained manacles and chains, which were promptly put on the adults.

I suggested keeping Omar apart as Nazir or one of the others might strangle him with their chains. I explained that they were unhappy that Omar had enjoyed his rapes so much. And his talent with cocks in his cunts. The leaders eyes glinted and I was sure Omar would be well used as in flight entertainment. Unfortunately for the four, their orders were to leave the little ones alone.

They were just about ready to go when I realized there was one more thing I needed to do.

I told Raid to get on his knees, which forced the other three down as well. Wed all gotten our act together at the sound of the chopper, at least putting our dicks away, so I had to fish mine out. I was close to his face, close enough he might lunge with open mouth, but he understood when I told him that if he moved I would personally gut little Dawud, pull his entrails out and watch him die before doing the same to him. (Not that I could have, since hed been sold, but Raid didnt have to know that. The leader smirked at what I said.) And then I let loose with the load of smell-to-high-heaven piss Id been holding back.

Men know how it is when you dont really have to piss, but then you hear running water or another guys piss splashing down and suddenly you have to go? Apparently that works with seeing the piss, too. Eight Marines, one Marine priest, and four of my fathers shipping specialists unzipped and took turns emptying their bladders on eleven raghead slaves. Omar naturally got hard again.

I shared out the money to the grateful members of the syndicate, burned the box it had come in. We decided to rack out for a bit, and Prince and Astaire lost the draw about who would stand guard.

As I was just about to drop off I realized that pissing on a sand nigger wasnt really the one more thing I needed to do.

That one more thing, that goddamn, fucking one more thing, was Id have to write a fucking report to Rome.

Goddamnit all to hell.

But my cock twitched at the idea of cumming at least once while I told the tale.


