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Taken by My Boy

By: Coxswain



Man attacked by thugs finds his son one of them

*

This is a true story, as told to me by a friend. Names have been changed to protect identities.

I was about to retire. A couple more years. I was looking forward to it. I was getting tired of teaching. I coached the sports teams and taught physical training at Obaledi College. I had a favorable rating--lost a few, won a few. We were currently on a winning streak, and I hoped that would last so I could go out on a positive note.

Life at home was okay. All but one of our kids were grown and out of the nest. Aaron, our youngest, still lived at home and was about to graduate from Obaledi.

That particular night the wife was in Florida visiting her sick mother, and Aaron was out somewhere with his friends. I drank a couple of beers and fell asleep in the recliner while watching TV. 

The first thing I knew, I was waking up to guys grabbing my hands and feet. Before I could come to my senses, they pulled me up out of the chair and threw me on my back on the floor.

When I started to struggle, one of them held a long kitchen knife in front of my face. "See this, Coachie? Ya give us any trouble, yer going to get hurt!"

I looked up. Three men held me down. All were naked, and all wore black hoods over their heads. The speaker was a young man but big. Built. Muscular. Powerful shoulders. big chest. A body-builder. 

And he had a hardon, a big one. 

I looked from one to the other of those holding me down. Shorter, not as muscular as the speaker--but they were strong enough to hold me. College kids, no doubt, since they knew I was a coach. Probably my own goddamned students. 

I forgot to lock the front door. Bastards had come right through it. I saw piles of their clothes around the recliner. 

I looked at them hard, searching for something to identify them by since I couldn't see their faces. The big guy had a silver ring in his cockhead--a piercing, a metal ring right through his piss slit and out the bottom of his cock--ouch! 

One of the others had an outie belly-button. Okay, not such a definite identifier, but everybody's is different. I tried to memorize it. He, too, had a hardon, but his cock wasn't the size of the big guy's.

The third one was a typical college-age male--I've seen thousands of them in the locker rooms and showers. On his left shoulder was a tomahawk tattoo. Of the three, he was the only one without a hardon, and I got another weird thought: must be the only one not queer. The soft thing swinging between his legs was a hefty one, though--Bet he's got a baseball bat when he's hard. Strange things you think when you're panicked. "Who are you little bastards? I'll have you expelled for this!"

The big one stuck the knifepoint against my neck. It hurt. Couldn't tell if he'd drawn blood. "Oh, I don't think so, Coachie. Story could end up them burglars broke in and left you dead on the floor."

Shit.

Then the guy with the knife (the damned thing from my own goddamned kitchen drawer) took it and started cutting off my clothes! "Fucking perverts! What in hell are you doing?"

"Gittin' back a little of our own, Coachie--"

--"Little of your own? Stop this, you goddamned perverts! I'm old enough to be your father!"

"Maybe, but now yer gonna be my wife." They snickered, and he kept cutting and pulling away my clothes. "Look at that. Wears a jockstrap even around the house." Two knife cuts, and I was naked. Then they rolled me over onto my belly and spread-eagled me.

Couldn't believe it. In the autumn of my life, after I had two wives and four children, I was going to be fucked by a man. He spread my legs wider, and although I wasn't in a crouch, at first I felt like a center with the quarterback behind me. 

It was the opposite of a football game though, the quarterback passed something between my legs to me: he sank his cock in my ass. The whole process was very slow, and it hurt like hell. I wanted to yell or struggle, but the bastards would not get the pleasure of hearing me cry out. I gritted my teeth and stood it. I couldn't move; they held me securely. And there was the knife.

When he was in all the way--felt like the knife was in my guts--he started plowing. My rear end was on fire, and tears ran from my eyes. Torture. Pure torture.

But finally, after what felt like hours, the pain reached a peak, a point where it didn't get any worse. I could stand it. Maybe I'll live, after all. 

About the time I mercifully got used to the huge thing up my butt, he pulled it out. My body cavity was stretched so wide, I could feel the cool air up my backdoor. 

Then he rammed back in, and with my asshole tight around him like a slip-knot, he growled, "Okay, ya big bastard, I'm gonna cum!" 

His lunges became truly mind-blowing, and I felt something I never thought I would--a warm fullness in my guts like drinking a hot toddy--the bastard was ejaculating in me, filling me with his sperm!

He kept at it for a few more minutes, grunting quietly, ecstatically. Then, "Feel that, Coachie? My cock loves ya--"

--"Why are you doing this??"

"Remember the try-outs ya held a year ago? Remember the guys tryin' their hearts out? No, you had a hard-on fer Gafemini. He wasn't that much better'n me"--he gave me a particularly vicious lunge, and I let out a yell--"None of 'em were better'n us, but we didn't make the team."

I wracked my brain, trying to remember the dozens of guys who came to the try-outs. He pulled out, growling, "The three of us are leavin' town, Coachie. Goin' someplace where we can play, someplace we get appreciated." He stuck his finger in my rectum, swirling it around in the mess of his jism. "Couldn't leave without gettin' back at ya, Coachie. Yeah, that was good." 

But it wasn't over. The next one took his place, and again I got a cock up my ass. Same thing, although it pissed me off to realize I was "getting used to it." No man should have to get used to another man's dong up his ass! But I was glad it didn't hurt as much. The sons of bitches! Twice!

Something else: I realized that I myself had a hardon digging into the carpet. Oh, fuck, no! I am not getting an erection from these queers!

Rapist #2 got his gun, and again I felt that warm fullness. Worse, I didn't feel bad; I felt good. Actually horny. Getting "that feeling" in my balls. Cold sweat broke out on my forehead. If these bastards keep this up, they'll make me cum! The ultimate humiliation.

When bastard #2 pulled out, my asshole felt warm and--I'll say it--"pleasant." When he stopped, my orgasm stopped building, and was I relieved! I looked back to see if bastard #3, the guy with the tattoo and the soft cock, was going to take a turn. 

Yep. He was soft no more, and fuck! I was stunned. His jockstrap would have to be a size Giganto to control that thing! I've seen Nigerians not hung as well. His mama must've been fooling around in the pasture with the bulls. 

This was no boy. This young student had a trailer hitch that was a real gay-cruiser--a tawny column sculptured rough with huge veins and ripples. He was stroking it and when he saw me looking, he pulled back on it, tightening the cockhead into a hot, shiny, ruddy-red thing that was downright frightening! Proud, glowing, taut, commanding.

A terrible feeling swept over me, a strange emotion. Jesus, what a cock. It's beautiful. Wish I was hung like that. Never felt that way before. Something about the guy really got to me.

And when he mounted me and shoved that thing up my ass, it hurt again--he was even bigger than the first bastard--but that time it was fucking weird! It hurt so bad I clenched my fists in the rug, but at the same time, it felt wonderful! A magnificent feeling! Glorious! 

I bit my lip. Had to admit it: I actually wanted this guy to fuck me. And sure enough, as the guy sank into me and started to pull out, I couldn't help myself. I went into an orgasm!

The pain, the shock, the struggle--and that heavenly, maddening stretch--made me want to scream with pleasure. I bit my lip, forcing myself to be silent, but the intensity was more than I could stand. Sperming all over the carpet, I thanked God that I was lying on my belly, and the rapists couldn't see what I was going through. 

How goddamned demeaning! I had cummed after the guy gave me only two strokes! And without touching myself! I was so ashamed I wanted to cry.

But as the young stud continued to sock it to me, the little bastard literally took me along with him, straining out my climax into a long, quavering, piercing note that I swear to God must be the male equivalent of multiple orgasms.

When I finally felt the big stud cumming in me, I actually felt grateful. Glad. Like I just got treated to something, like I was just done a favor. 

When he pulled out, I was exhausted. I lay there sweating, breathing in shallow gasps, my legs splayed out. Open and inviting. 

Actually exhausted. What the hell difference did it make, anyway? If any of them wanted seconds, there was nothing I could do about it. 

I didn't look back up at them. I heard them pulling on their clothes. "Don't git up for ten minutes, old man, or we'll be back with the knife!"

Oh, I got up, all right. Ran straight to the closet and got out my shotgun. I grabbed some clothes and ran out of the house, but of course no one was there. I went back in to call the police--but to tell them what? Burglars broke into my house and took me? Fucked me, a man? 

I turned on the lights and walked around--nothing was missing. Oh, the six-pack of beer was gone from the refrigerator, but I couldn't figure out how to call a squad car for just that.

The little bastards! What in hell was their problem? High on drugs, most likely, bad apples made even worse with narcotics. Little fuckers, hope they get run over by a car! Except maybe that last guy. The one with the huge cock. Damn, he made me feel good.

Couldn't sleep that night, of course. I didn't really think they would come back, but after I took a shit to get the jism out of my ass and stood in the shower running water so hot I almost boiled myself, I sat all night in the chair with the shotgun across my knees. 

Aaron didn't come in. Probably out scoring with Emily. On the other hand, could be I'm the only one of us to get any sex tonight.

I bowed my head. What would he think if he knew his father just got fucked? I was glad he didn't come home while the bastards were there. It was one secret that would go with me to my grave.

When the sun came up, I got up, took another shower, made some coffee, and went over to the college. I knew the odds were against it, but that day I looked in the locker room and showers in every single class. Looking for a cock-piercing. I looked at so many guy's crotches, I probably started a rumor. I watched for outie belly-buttons. I looked for a tomahawk tattoo. 

But nothing. Maybe they weren't students after all. I wanted somebody to talk to, but who? My wife wouldn't be back for three days--and of all people, I couldn't tell her. 

When I went home for lunch, Aaron was there. "Hi, Dad." But no way in hell could I tell him.

He was moving around in the kitchen, making himself a sandwich--wearing nothing but his tighty-whities. "Split out the crotch of my jeans," he said. "Bent over to pick up some books, and rip!" He chuckled. "Had to come home to get another pair of pants. I guess Mom was right; they were too tight."

I was proud of Aaron. Good student, got good grades. Nothing spectacular, but he was a good kid. Nicely muscled, healthy. 

And hung. I hadn't noticed before, but my son packed a nice bulge in those briefs. Made me proud. Then he turned away to put something back in the refrigerator, and I saw his left shoulder.

A tomahawk tattoo!

Jesus fucking Christ! I was stunned. Suddenly no longer hungry. My blood froze in my veins. Aaron tried out for the football team last year, but didn't make it. 

He had always been the brainy type. Took after his mother. Never much interested in sports. Played them because of me, I think, but he was never truly a sportsman. Tried out just because I wanted him to, and he didn't make the team because his heart really wasn't in it. The other coaches voted him out; I couldn't override them.

And I thought he was okay with that. No complaints. I actually thought he was relieved. 

I sat at the table with him, just drinking a beer. He looked at me. "You okay, Dad?"

"Yeah, I'm okay."

"I wasn't home last night--over at Emily's--but did anything happen last night?"

"Why do you ask that?" My voice was a growl.

"I don't know. You're acting funny. You feeling sick?"

I can't believe it! "Naw, I just drank too much last night. Got a bit of a hangover." But there it was. The same tattoo. My own son took me.

I wanted to cry. What had I done to deserve that? I lowered my voice. "That tomahawk tattoo gives you away, you know."

"What, this?" He chuckled. "Got it a week ago." He looked at me. "Gives me away? What do you mean?"

"Anybody sees you with that will remember who you were."

"What does that mean? Anyway, a lot of guys have this tattoo. It's like a fad."

"Yeah? Well, let's just say it's like a big cock. People see that, and they remember you!"

"Dad, what's wrong? Why are you talking like this?"

I got up and walked over to his chair. I reached down and hefted that big package between his legs. "Let's just take a look at this big thing!" I looked him in the eyes. "Again!"

"But--but--"

"Stand up, Aaron!" He stood up, I put my thumbs in the waistband of his briefs, and I yanked them down. Ohmigod, there it is! Soft, but my asshole remembered that big gun. I grabbed it, and it began to swell in my fingers.

Aaron gulped. "Dad! What are you doing?"

Damn! God, this thing is gigantic! It swelled up out of his crotch, gradually getting so big it pulled my fingers apart. I couldn't touch my fingers around it. Suddenly I wasn't so much pissed off as--feeling something different. "You got a big cock, Aaron."

I looked up at his face, and he smiled shyly. "Yeah, I guess I have."

It grew hard, throbbing, and shiny-headed in my hand. I looked back down. God, it was hypnotizing. My mouth watered.

My mouth is watering?? What the fuck is happening to me?

But it was true. Couldn't help myself--I started stroking it, and a big drop of precum oozed out of the slit. God, look at that stuff! Couldn't help myself. I dropped to my knees for a better look.

Up close, I swear I could feel waves of heat from it on my face. The big thing was commanding me. Couldn't help myself. I lowered my mouth onto it and licked up that drop.

Aaron sighed, and with that first touch, I got the weirdest feeling: gratitude. Like I was glad. I parted my lips even wider and sucked as much as I could of that big cannon. 

My boy! What a hung stud!

"Ahhhh, God! Dad, what are you doing?" 

I'd never been so damned excited! I kept licking over his piss-hole, checking for precum. That I was sucking my own son was gasoline on my lust. I was already going to hell for it--so I sucked harder. 

"Oh, Dad, Jesus Christ!"

I loved to hear him get excited. Made me even hornier. I'm sucking off my own son!

Sucking off, indeed. After a short time, he let out with a deep, wedding-night groan, and big gushes of my own spunk (a generation later) shot into my mouth, whole globs as big as ping-pong balls, and I fought to gulp them down. Naturally, Aaron's cum was soon dripping from the edges of my mouth.

When I rose to my feet, Aaron fell into my arms, and I hugged him. First I had to know: "Aaron, tell me, why did you and those other--"

--He raised his mouth to mine and kissed me! Jesus!

God, what a kiss! His tongue entered my mouth, chasing my tongue, pushing it around, and it suddenly hit me: He's in charge! He was in charge of me when he fucked me last night, and the power he has over me just made me suck his cock!

But it was good. I loved to feel the power of my son sweeping over me, and I loved to surrender to him, to pitch him a slow ball so he could hit it out of the park. 

We stopped the kiss, still hugging tightly. "Oh, Dad," he murmured, "I never dreamed--"

--"All you had to do was say something. Why did you and those other--Whoa! What is that I feel against my leg?" I smiled. "Aaron, you reloaded that big thing already?"

"Can't help it, Dad, you suck cock even better than Em--" He gasped, watching me as I lay back on the couch, yanking off my pants and spreading my legs. 

"Show me again what you can do, Aaron."

"My God, Dad, I can't believe this!" 

"Come on, Aaron, fuck me again."

He sank onto me and sank into me. Yeah, there was that wonderful pain again! This time I was not being taken. This time I had a hardon, and it was okay!

Ohhh, yeah! The fiery pain of Aaron's entry was replaced by that fiery paradise, a craving so powerful, I wanted him to stretch my asshole as big as a bowling ball! As it was, that giant cock had me so tight, his slightest movement sent jolts through my nerves. When he started his thrusts, my brain went numb in a shower of sparks.

My voice was a hoarse growl, "Yeah, Aaron, you big fucker! Fuck me! All those times I spanked you? Take your revenge! Ram it in deep!"

And he set me afire: "Yeah! My cock's in you, Dad!" Amazed voice. Dizzy voice. Innocent. Must be all those acting classes.

Then in an uncertain voice, trying to sound masterful, he grunted, "I'm fucking you, Dad--you, you. . .big motherfucker!" 

Never thought about it like that. I really was his motherfucker.

"You fuck better than a bitch," he went on, gaining confidence. "Gonna make you my bitch." 

Hey, now wait a minute!

With his hips pistoning me, he went on, "God, this is fine! You're even sexier than Emily!" His voice grew husky, "Fuckin' feet up in the air for me! Gonna fill you so full of cum, you'll be puking it!"

I loved to hear him talk dirty, but the part about "his bitch" bugged me. But at that moment my asshole cinched around his organ like a wedding ring and drove me crazy. I felt myself lifting off the ground, suspended in mid-air, floating electrocuted, pivoting on that huge stag's dick, so dizzy I imagined myself with a football up my ass.

"Yeah! My bitch now, ain't ya, Dad!" His voice was so hoarse I hardly recognized it. But "ya"?

Couldn't believe my ears, though. Impossible words. No man can accept them. How could my son dare to say such a thing? 

But the damned kid was farming my sensitive, tight-stretched asshole, jazzing every vein, bumping every fold of skin, sizzling my flesh. Unbearable rapture! His colossal cockhead banged against my prostate, showing me how pain and pleasure were the same thing. I was speechless.

"Almost there, Dad. Get ready!"

With the winning play of the game, he lunged into me so far I swear I felt his cock in my chest, and although the pain was incredible, the ecstasy was even more agonizing. "Ahh, fuck me, you bastard," I groaned, "Cum in me!" And I couldn't stop myself: "Make me a bitch!"

Damn, I was proud of him! My head jammed back against the couch as I felt a big, long, boiling fullness in my guts, and that touched me off. He fucked the jizz out of me without my even touching my father-rod. I ejaculated like a hunting rifle, sperm all over my belly, my chest, and Aaron's lunging body!

When we were done, I fondled my cock lovingly and lay back, breathing hard, glad I was alive, somehow feeling like a bride on her wedding night. My son was quiet, lying on me like a triumphant groom.

Finally he spoke: "Dad, I never in a million years would have believed you would--" suddenly he pulled out his cock and stood up. "Oh, shit!" 


Taken by My Boy Ch. 02



Since the day of the rape in my own house, outraged and bum-fucked by a trio of bitter students, my world had turned upside-down. My whole mind-set. Everything I knew about fucking and love. All I knew about anything had changed. 

Even worse, even more titanic, I made the world's worst mistake--while gang-raped, I thought I recognized my own son Aaron, a college sophomore, as one of the masked bastards, and I waited for revenge when he came home later without the mask.

But emotional earthquakes are tough when a man's as old as I am. The night of the rape, the ground cracked open under me on the subject of sex. I had to admit it--the shame, humiliation, and outrage were nothing compared to the overwhelming physical ecstasy (once I got past the pain). Left me dazed and amazed. And jacking off every time I thought about it. Couldn't deny it: I liked being fucked, the silky, almost insufferable friction of hot, sweaty cock-skin passing through my asshole.

In fact, when Aaron came home, and I got him horny, I changed my mind from angry revenge with my cock up his ass to getting him to fuck me. And he did it again, fucked me into purring rapture. 

Then I discovered he was not one of the thugs; he was innocent! A tidal wave of guilt swept over me. Oh. My. God. What have I done?? I thought about killing myself.

But miracle of miracles, it ended up as the happiest accident in my life. Turned out Aaron had always been hot for me! I wouldn't have believed it, but he said for years he had been peeking at me through secret holes he drilled in the walls--in the bedroom to watch me fuck his mother, jacking off while he watched me through a hole in the bathroom wall.

From the moment my son's cock spread open my love-hole, the world rolled over, never to roll back. For one thing, Aaron and I became "an item." In a small wooden greenhouse at the back of my property where Aaron kept his exotic plants, we also shared another "hobby"--emptying his young balls into me in the hot steamy atmosphere and the aroma of orchids and camellias. Listening to each other breathing hard. Feeling the slick, sweat-wet skin of each other's back.

Never would've thought it--unimaginable--my son's cock up my ass was the greatest physical pleasure I knew. Being fucked was even hotter than fucking! Aaron's cock in my ass turned me on more than sticking my cock in his mother. Happily married for 22 years, I suddenly switched sides and for two years had been a cock-hungry cum-slut for my son. But as the months went by, the guilt came back. 

No longer worried that I had raped my own son (rather delighted that he wanted to plow me as much as I wanted to be his bitch), I still realized that fucking his father was stunting his growth. Every time I bent over as my son's bitch, I held back his progress. 

Aaron was a great student, soon to graduate, soon moving out, starting a career, beginning his adult life. I wasn't worried about his career prospects. Aaron was a golden boy, but as far as his full, masculine development was concerned, I had to help him fall in love. With someone else. 

Hell, I was an old man about to retire. Aaron had his whole life ahead of him. He shouldn't settle on me as his lover. He needed someone his own age. 

Okay, I needed Aaron, too. Loved to turn my body over to him, but as the head coach at Obaledi University, everything for me was perfect. Career-wise, I'd reached my plateau. Sex-wise, I always knew I had a sort of "free ticket"--I had my pick of horny college men. I could troll the locker rooms for young studs itching to fuck the coach on the wet, gray shower room floor--whether for revenge (like the rapists), to get a better grade, or simply to score a fuck on a man in authority.

I hadn't done that yet--Aaron kept me satisfied--but I knew I had an ace in the hole (for a cock in my hole).

Aaron, on the other hand, hadn't lived long enough to have paid such dues. He would have to win his soul-mate with just the force of his personality--and that big cock of his. 

Two years ago I expected to see him settle down and get married--maybe to that Emily, the one he still dated (and bought rubbers for). But since the night of the gang-rape, I also figured a nice, healthy young man was an equal possibility. 

One way or another, though, I had to wean Aaron away from me--maybe keep me as a special-occasion fuck. Something to dip his wick into on birthdays and special holidays.

One day I happened to be in the locker room checking out the damage on a locker some idiot student had tried to break into. Who knew what he was after, but he used a crowbar on the latch, ruining it. Anyway, while I was there, trying to bend the green door back into shape, the campus Army ROTC cadets finished their Physical Training activities out on the football field and came running in to shower and get back in uniform. I glanced over at them. Nice stuff. My appreciation of the male body had really picked up in the past couple of years. Got the point I could tell how far past puberty a guy was by the smell of his sweat. Or his jock. I'd picked a few out of the basket for some horny sniffs. Loved that rough, moist feel, like a waffle soaked in mayonnaise. 

Damn! My eyes popped open. Lt. Prentino, the Regular Army staff assistant. I gulped. He was really something. Trying to act normal, from the corner of my eye I watched him strip. He pulled up that black ARMY T-shirt and yanked it over his head. I sucked in my breath (quietly). 

Shoulders like an ox pulling a plow. Chest like a squared-off piece of furniture. Damn, he had muscles! 

He shucked down his black shorts. 

Jockstrap. Did the Army still pass those out? They did in my day. Damn, it looked good. Yellow and faded. Maybe stained. Tight elastic waistband and a nylon-mesh bulge so big it looked like a pistol holster. Damn, this boy is hung! 

Prentino sat down, unlaced his sneakers, pulled them off, stood up, and slid down the jock.

Yeah! The stretchy mesh moved down, revealing a healthy bush of kinky black hair then a big cock, a real stunner. I gaped. And I could smell it from where I stood.

He had a hardon. Never saw anything like it--like the mushroom-cloud of an atomic bomb. Or an upside-down plunger. Cockhead something like twice as wide as the shaft! Incredible!

I stood frozen, fighting the urge to gasp. Even had a bubble of precum oozing out of his piss-slit. Most masculine thing I ever saw. Cockhead like a flying saucer. Unbelievable. 

He chuckled. "Oops. Must be a little horny."

I looked up, into his eyes staring back at me. Busted. At first speechless, I forced myself to recover. With a chuckle, I snorted, "Hot date last night?"

I turned back to the broken locker as if too busy to notice. The metal of the door wasn't as hard as my cock.

Wow, what a man! Damned handsome. Taller than Aaron, not only did he have a good body, with his black hair and blue eyes he was a young George Clooney. Back in my office, I rubbed my hands with glee like the evil, cackling old man in the cartoons. I've found the man for my Aaron! Couldn't get his crotch smell out of my mind.

I looked him up in the college records. 2nd Lieutenant Anthony "Tony" Prentino joined the Army out of high school, one tour in Iraq, heroic action, won him assignment to Officer Candidate School, now an officer assigned to the ROTC at Obaledi.

Brave young man. Determined. 

And one year older than Aaron. Perfect!

I made up some bullshit "University Program to Liaison with ROTC Military Physical Training" and invited Lt. Prentino over to the house for "an informal discussion of university/military possibilities. Please come over for dinner." 

Prentino accepted the invitation, but he came over to my office to accept in person. He sat in one of the brown leather office chairs all these old colleges seemed to have. "I'd be happy to work with the university." I liked his voice. Deep. Masculine. And he sank into the soft leather cushion deep enough that I could look straight down into his crotch. 

I pulled open the squeaky drawer in my oak desk and pulled out the bottle of Jim Beam rye (my favorite). "Care for a drink?"

He looked uncertain, then, "Yeah, why the hell not?"

I poured us a couple of shots, and we talked. Rather than go back to sit behind my desk again, I leaned back against it. I refilled our glasses as we talked and tried to steer the conversation around to sex, which wasn't too hard, really, not for two men. I tiptoed around the subject of man-sex. "I see a lot of homosexuality around here," I said casually. "Lot of it goes on in the locker room." 

Prentino was lit. "I love older guys." His voice was soft. Husky. He looked up at me. "You make me hot. So hot!"

Not exactly what I wanted to hear. "Lieutenant?"

He gritted his teeth. "God, look at that thing. I can see it bulging out your pants." 

What? I looked down. Damn! The conversation had given me a hardon. The tables were turned. He was staring into my crotch!

"I can't stand it anymore!" With that he rose from his chair, dropped to his knees, and grabbed my cock through my pants! Before I could gather my wits, he had my fly open--

--"Lieutenant, you're--you're excited." Stupid thing to say! "Have--have you met my son?" More stupidity! "He's--your age!"

At that moment, Prentino's mouth closed over my cock, and I lost my concentration. Hot mouth. Made me close my eyes, drop my hands to his head, rub through his black hair tenderly. God, he was good, his tongue scraped under my cockhead, teasing that sensitive spot, rasping over it like gentle, demonic sandpaper. "Wait--wait, I want my son--"

But I didn't have a chance. He sucked onto me again, baking my suddenly full-on hardon in his mouth, boiling my cock in his spit. His young-man's energy fused into me through my cock, and in a catapult to an orgasm so fast I felt vesicles and tendons stretching and snapping in my balls, I stiffened into a petrified statue trembling in mindless ecstasy. The sounds of our panting and grunts echoed from the cracked plaster walls.

He moaned as I passed the electricity back to him in violent gobs of sperm clogging his mouth and throat. When I had finished, he fell back onto his butt on the cracked linoleum, and the smell of our sweat and the sent of sex filled the room with a heady, intoxicating perfume, elevating my afterglow into a near-psychedelic experience. 

I staggered over to the side of the room and fell back on the couch, unable to think clearly. I muttered, "My son is your--"

But Prentino was on me, cupping my balls, squeezing them gently. "I love older men. Let's have some fun" and with that I felt his finger wriggle into the crack of my ass--to find my Magic Button. 

"No! Wait! You have to meet--" 

--But once the finger pushed inside me, I was a goner. His other hand pulled down my pants and underwear, and--"Oh, yeahhhhh!" I lay back, spread my legs for him, and "AGGH!" That gigantic cockhead spread my asshole apart wider than a manhole-cover. God, what a gut-wrenching pain! A motherfucking thrill--if I could only get past the pain. 

Like delirious, with a fever, I looked up at him as he lunged against me. The pain was intense, but the sweating, macho, commanding presence of the man pushed me past the agony. I nearly passed out in a dizzying combination of pain and rapture. My own cock let loose with flying globs of sperm, white vehicles of my pleasured surrender, splattering us both from the chest down. He got me! The goddamned bastard got me!

He did, indeed. A spreading warmth deep in my guts let me know he'd bred me. Anointed me. Chosen me as his receptacle. I felt wonderful. Jiggly, drunken good! I wanted to lie in his arms for hours, enjoying our afterglow.

But he got up, wiped himself off on my pants, and hissed, "See you tonight, Coach!" He smiled. "Oh, and call me Tony." And he was gone. Only the haunting smell of his crotch remained.

Shit. I wanted some more lovin'. Then it hit me: Damn, damn, double-damn, triple-damn, HELL! He was supposed to be for my goddamned son!

I didn't smoke, but right then I wished I did. Anything to un-knot my nerves. I did pour myself another stiff drink of rye. 

My damned asshole had just betrayed me. What in hell am I going to do now?? I got up, pulled up my pants, and walked out into the locker room. Get some fresh air. Try to think. Get control of myself. Tonight's going to be a fucking mine-field!

Later that afternoon, when I met Aaron in our usual "father & son gardening" get-together in the greenhouse, I hadn't even closed the moldy door before he started pulling off his clothes. I leaned back against one of the benches. "Pretty hot are you, Aaron? Hey, have you looked at that ROTC officer, that Lieutenant Prentino? Hot stuff. I watched him take a shower. Nice body."

But Aaron kept stripping down, derailing my concentration. Damn, I loved his body. Couldn't think straight when he stripped. The sound of the rough cloth slithering down over his body was the Overture to an Orgasm. "He's--really hot," I gasped. "You--you'd like him--He's--good." The naked Aaron groped my crotch, unbuckling my belt. 

"He's hot, man," I panted, "your age--AH!! Aaron stroked my throbbing hardon through my pants, and I was seeing red. In desperation I stood up, but Aaron yanked down my pants and moved behind me. When that big cock of his nudged at my ass-crack, I gave up. "Yeah! Do it, Aaron! Split me open! Knock me up!!"

Still a little sore from Prentino's ream-out, nonetheless I got the soul-satisfying jolt of my son's lunge, spreading my asshole, and I surrendered myself to him. I loved the sound of his panting breath and the squishing noise of his greased-up cock showing me who's boss. 

Oh, Aaron, you need a man your age. Couldn't bring myself to say the words, though, and that was as far as I could think--my young quarterback had control of my body, running the game for me. My ass thrilled with his cock up inside.

Aaron always pleased. As he pushed it in, my rectum loved the pain like the hot spice of salsa on a taco. God, I loved it. Aaron made me feel like a rabbit trembling before a mighty lion. I loved his big cock. Almost as big as Prentino's, actually, just without the titanic cockhead. God, I was proud of him. I spread my legs even wider. Anything to get him in deeper.

But that was it: full in, to the hilt, his hips mashed against mine, his red pubic hair grinding against my balls, I had to admit it--Prentino had ruined me. Aaron's cock rammed full-length up my ass hadn't reached the places the lieutenant had. "Ah, God, Aaron, fuck me deep! Do it! Rip out my guts!" Hope nobody's in the yard to hear this.

Aaron liked me to talk dirty to him and he knew I liked it rough. Knew I was his cum-slut. He slammed against me so hard he pushed me over the potting bench, bending me over, humping me like a stallion covering a mare. My eyes clenched shut in the ecstasy of surrendering to my son--but he wasn't in as deep as Prentino.

After a few minutes of frantic lunges, slushy, greasy-sounding exercise, he rolled me over, laid me back on the gritty bench, lifted my legs onto his shoulders, and remounted. Yeah! He made me a jolting, jiggling mass of horny man-flesh. I loved to be his cum-bucket! Even if--I hated to think it--I'd had bigger.

When he finally got his gun and lubricated my guts again--the typical quart of jizz I'd have to shit out later--I jacked myself to spurt out a one-gun salute in four or five white arcs six or eight inches in the air, my version of fireworks to celebrate his conquest. 

When Aaron pulled out and dropped exhausted onto a moss-covered chair, almost collapsing it, I was too fucked out to say anything more about Lieutenant Prentino. Maybe I'd get a chance to prime him a little more before the guy came for dinner later that night. We sat for several minutes just enjoying the aroma of the roses.

-==(^)==-

When Prentino showed up, exactly on time, I made introductions all around, and the evening began with cocktails. The wicked old man in me cackled again--Hee-hee! Now for the love potions! "Have you ever tasted absinthe, Lieutenant Prentino?"

"No. I've heard of it, though. And call me Tony."

Damn, he was hot. Filled out that tan summer uniform like it was about a half-size too small. Nice bulges. Everywhere. Perfect for Aaron. He had my seal of approval. "Tony, this stuff was popular among avant-garde society in Paris in the early 1900s. Oscar Wilde and Toulouse-Latrec were supposed to be addicted to it." 

I left out the part about how the wormwood botanical in it was faintly poisonous and reputed to cause mild hallucinations. Neither did I mention that it's 138 proof. The hallucinations probably came from the 70% alcohol.

I filled his glass with the green stuff. "The decadent realm of the Green Fairy," they called it in at the turn of the century. I gave Aaron some, too, then we clinked glasses. Nothing like greasing the wheels.

As I turned away to get something else, I noticed Tony and Aaron looking at each other in friendly conversation. The evil old man's plans were working! Hee-hee-hee!

But nothing, as they say, is perfect. As we sat down to dinner of Cajun Oyster Pie (fiery spiced with oysters partly raw) and hard-boiled eggs with caviar and almonds (all foods to supercharge the libido), we were interrupted by Steinbel, the 18-year-old nerd who wheedled a gymnasium towel-man job out of me at the beginning of the semester.

The pimply little jerk couldn't make a decision by himself and had come all the way over to my house to ask me if I wanted him to open a new package of towels for the next school day or use up the rest of the towels with the old Obaledi logo. "Yeah, go ahead and open a new package! See you tomorrow!"

But my wife chimed in. "Have you had dinner yet, Harold?"

"No, Ma'am."

"Well, sit down. We've got plenty."

Curses! Foiled again!

What an asshole. Harold Steinbel was a skinny, whining little jerk. He weighed about 95 pounds and was about five feet tall. Tousled, mousy-brown hair. Freckles. Big glasses. A poster boy for Country-hick Nerds. The little loser begged me for the towel job so he could watch the naked jocks in the showers. I hired him--I mean, what the hell, who am I to point fingers--but he sure was an irritating little shrimp.

But--nyah-hah-haaaa--the wicked old man had an ee-vill plan. I had Madge, my wife, put the salsa in a gravy boat rather than a bowl or leave it in the bottle, and I had Lt. Prentino and Aaron seated next to each other. Close together.

When the meal was nearly over, I had plans for the big white porcelain gravy boat. It was a very special one I bought on vacation in Italy. The handle was in the shape of a naked Neptune, and the bowl was entwined teams of naked mermen pulling Neptune through the water. Madge thought it was art. I got it because the men's cocks were carefully sculpted. 

No man with the slightest interest in his neighbor's penis could look at that gravy boat without a twinge between his legs.

Of course, once it was passed early in the meal to the damned little weasel Steinbel, he kept it at his plate, staring at it while he shoveled the food into his mouth.

As we finished our meal, I reached over to Steinbel's place at the table and picked up the naked-male gravy boat. I made my voice sound cheery: "Here, let me pour you some more of this delicious sauce--Oops!"

With a stumble I thought should get me an Academy Award, I clumsily (but quickly and carefully) emptied the salsa over both Prentino and Aaron, ruining the soldier's uniform and Aaron's clothes. "Oh, damn! Oh, hell, I'm so sorry! Caught my foot on the table leg! Oh, damn, your uniform is ruined, Tony!" I dabbed at it feebly. 




Taken by My Boy Ch. 02



I stood up. "I've got an idea! Why don't you two go take a shower, and Madge, here, can put that uniform in the washing machine! In a half-hour we can have you good as new!"

Prentino tried to beg off, of course--No, no, that's okay--but I insisted and herded him and Aaron up the stairs to the bathroom. "Okay, both of you strip down and give me those messed-up clothes before the stains set."

Yeah! With me as the cheerleader, my son and the Army stud pulled off their clothes. First the shirts. "Here, better let me take that undershirt, too, Tony. The salsa soaked through to it." Aaron pulled his sweatshirt off over his head.

Both pairs of pants came down at once. I'll be a son of a bitch! Prentino wears a jockstrap every day! "Give me your underwear. I'll have her wash those, too."

And there they were, two proud cocks that made my mouth water. Aaron's big dong, a horse-cock so thick I couldn't touch my fingers around it, and Prentino's long, incredible giant mushroom.

"Okay. You two guys hop in the shower and get cleaned off." Damn, my voice is husky!

Then I heard Steinbel whine: "And I'll be right here with the towels when you get out!"

"No, come on, Harold, you wait outside!" I pushed him back out the door as Prentino and Aaron stepped into the tub and pulled the shower curtain around them. The gritty sound of the curtain-rings along the aluminum rod meant the wicked old man's plans were coming true! I stepped out of the bathroom, giving them more privacy, rubbing my hands with glee. Hee-hee-hee! As liquored up and full of spicy food as those two are, they'll be sucking each other's cocks before we get to the bottom of the stairs! 

I spent the next 15 or 20 minutes keeping Steinbel from running up to the bathroom "to check on them," secretly taking big whiffs of Prentino's jockstrap. Damn. Smells of Tide. Must be clean. He must've showered before he came over here. Shit. 

Finally I heard Aaron calling, "Hey, can we get some towels? We're buck-naked up here!"

Steinbel took off like a shot. A few minutes later, Aaron came down the stairs with a towel around his waist. Prentino followed, but he paused at the doorway, looking around.

"Madge is in the laundry room, Lieutenant. Come on in."

Yeah. Towelled off and shower-fresh, he looked good enough to eat (or suck). I wondered what had gone on in that shower.

Behind them trotted Steinbel, the little worm. Had a big wet spot in the front of his pants.

"Take a seat, Tony. My wife will be back out with your clothes in a few minutes. Here, let me pour you some more absinthe."

Just then Madge came through the door, and Prentino nervously adjusted his towel. "I'm so sorry, but I arranged with our daughter to watch their children tonight; I have to leave now. It was a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Prentino. Harry, their clothes are in the dryer."

Perfect! Couldn't have arranged that better myself!

When the door closed behind her, I looked back at the two lovers and caught myself licking my lips. No, you stupid ass! This is for them!

Prentino got up and walked to the table. "Let me see that thing again." He picked up the gravy boat. "Those are some pretty nasty carvings."

Yes! He's getting horny! "Just the male body. A work of art. Here, let me freshen up your glass."

A few drinks later, both Prentino and Aaron were pretty well lit, but nobody was coming on to anybody. I decided to up the ante. "Sure is getting hot in here." I wiped my forehead with the back of my hand. "Whew! I think I'll take off some of these hot clothes--since you guys are already stripped and cool."

It was a feeble line, but they were both drunk and probably wouldn't remember it. I hurriedly shucked off my clothes, soon completely naked. To my disgust, though, from the corner of my eye I spotted Steinbel stripping. Fuck! He's going to screw this up!

I played another card. "Might as well get rid of those towels, boys, we're all men here."

It worked. Aaron and Prentino let their towels slide off, and our three cocks started getting hard. Perfect! Prentino and Aaron looked over at each other, then down at each other's cocks! Perfecter and perfecter!

But still they didn't make a move on each other. I glanced over at Steinbel. The little jerk had his back to us, actually jacking off in my house!

But maybe he had the right idea. I started stroking myself, too, hoping Aaron and Prentino would do the same.

Not quite. When he looked over at me and saw me wanking myself, Prentino stared, mouth open. Then, like he was hypnotized, he got up from the couch, walked over to me, and dropped to his knees between my legs. Oh, shit, not again! Not to me!

Before I could say a thing, he dropped his head into my crotch, and his mouth glommed around my cockhead! Damn! That was not what I wanted to happen--but Jesus, I want it to happen! The young soldier's mouth was a hot furnace around my cock, and he had me instantly on fire.

I wanted to tell him to stop, to go after Aaron, but my mouth didn't work. As I felt myself sinking faster and faster into his power, I glanced over to see Steinbel leap out of his chair and go running over to Aaron. Steinbel, too, dropped to his knees, and before I could stop them, he was giving Aaron a blowjob!

Damn! This is completely fucked up!

My balls were cinching up for a climax, though, and my willpower was gone. I couldn't resist the male power of the horny GI, and quicker than I thought possible, it started! 

His tongue slathering around my throbbing cockhead taught me the true meaning of friendship, and my eyes rolled back in my head as he taught me a new religion. God, the guy is good! His blowjob sizzled every nerve in my cock!

And he got me! No, this isn't what I wanted! He was supposed to get with Aaron, but God he's good! Sucking me crazy! On the edge! I'm there! Right now! Godthehottestsuckofmylife!AHHHHHHHH!

So good, I almost went into convulsions! I felt eight mighty blasts of cum shoot down his throat, and the horny bastard gobbled it down like a hungry wolverine. My heart pounded like I'd just run 100 yards, and I fell back, panting, floating in midair in a wonderful afterglow. "God, that was hot!"

Finally backing off me, wiping the sperm from his lips with his hand, Tony looked up at me with a little smile. "I love older men, Coach. Had my eye on you since the first day I got to Obaledi. Never dreamed I'd get this chance."

Oh, shit. 

I looked over at Aaron. Son of a bitch! He lay back on the couch, pulling his legs back almost to touch his knees beside his head, and the pimply little bastard, Harold Steinbel, stood over him, mounted on my son, plowing Aaron's asshole! 

"Hey, wait a minute! That's not what I--"

"God, that's hot!" Tony's voice was husky and excited, and at that second, he grabbed both my legs, hooked his powerful arms under my knees, and pulled me forward, slumping me down in the chair. Then he rotated my legs back and spread them, and before I could say another word, that supernatural, flying-saucer cockhead of his--erect again faster than I would've believed--rammed against my asshole! With a stab of familiar pain, he pushed that thing past my straining rectum again, stretching me once more tighter than a banjo string!

I yelped, but he was in, and the pain was not as bad. I moaned, but as I hoped it would, the pain gradually faded away. Ohhh, yeahhh!

The young paratrooper was a master fucker--moving slow until he knew I had adjusted to him, but I was already there. "Okay!" My voice was a hoarse gasp. "Do it! Fuck me, you patriotic bastard! Faster!"

As he sped up his rhythm, fiery streaks flashed before my eyes. God, he's fucking me blind! It still hurt, like he'd rammed an big apple up my ass and was fucking me with it, but I was pleasured. Lightning bolts of pleasure shot through me, and my cock was so hard, I could drive nails with it.

Fuck, his cock rearranged me! That huge thing reamed me from a garden hose into a subway tunnel. Gouging me out to take horses from then on. And the long shaft behind that huge cockhead straightened me out like I was spitted for a barbecue. Almost felt like it was coming up my throat.

He made me cum. Not the usual crescendo of pleasure but rather an irresistible, unstoppable, undeniable knowledge that his huge cock changed me, overpowered me, ravaged me because it was his will. I knew he didn't give a shit about me, only that I was the "older meat" he craved. He would do whatever it took to get his pleasure from me. 

Somehow the very idea that to him I was nothing but a hole in a piece of meat turned me on so crazy, I felt my cock shoot instantly into orgasm! No buildup, no raising of the balls to clench at my groin, no It's coming, it's coming, it's coming! When I realized this big male would shoot his sperm up me and walk away without a second thought, in a single second I exploded into an orgasm, sperming like a fire-hose, spurting my submission and worship in a slimy tribute to his complete masculinity.

And seeing his complete control over me must have gotten to him, too, because I felt his slime filling me up, and his eyes glazed over in lust. God, I'm glad I'm a man! This virile bastard would've knocked me up with triplets!

God, it felt good! Used by a rampant, alpha male! My asshole and guts the source of his pleasure! In a way, I owned him--I was the fire-pit his flames burned in, the cylinder his mighty piston needed for its power.

Jesus, it was a fabulous cumming! I don't know how much he pumped into me, but my belly swelled--God, I'm pregnant!--and his cock rammed into me so far, I knew I'd never find another lover like him.

And he kissed me! I was so completely fucked I swear I tasted his sperm in the back of my throat, but when his mouth came down on mine, smuggling a secret pact of friendship between us, he communicated a secret only our minds knew, a sort of cumming of the brains. The kiss ignored the fierce, animal machines of our bodies grinding against each other in colossal orgasm. He kissed me into a new dimension, an existence where our bodies fused together, making us for that one, white-hot moment one single creature!

When he finally broke the kiss--I never would have; I wanted to stay locked against his mouth for the rest of my life--I knew a terrible, wonderful thing had happened: I was his! For the first time in my life, I had a true, undeniable lover! A being who touched every nerve in my body, who owned every spark of my life. 

When I opened my eyes, the world had moved under me. Nothing for me would ever be the same. I had a lover. Forever. Whatever he wanted of me, I would do.

He lay on me for a long time. Breathing hard, sweating, holding me. The whole room smelled of sex. Sex and balls. I clenched my asshole around his cock as many times as I could, trying to string out his orgasm, lengthen his afterglow. Keep him inside me.

When he finally pulled out, I looked over at my poor son, fucked by the village idiot. They, too, lay together, pimply Steinbel covering my studly son.

I blinked. They were still holding each other. Embracing! And they were kissing! Steinbel's sniveling mouth was locked on my son's, and their faces wallowed back and forth--I could almost see the tongues stabbing at each other!

I looked closer. Steinbel's cock still stuck up Aaron's ass, and long drools of white jizz dripped down over Aaron's buttocks. I saw Aaron's asshole clenching, gripping Steinbel's cock, trying to string out Steinbel's orgasm, lengthen his afterglow, keep him inside.

I let out a big sigh.

We all got up. Since none of us smoked, no one had the traditional after-fuck cigarette, and I didn't pass out any more alcohol. I figured we were all drunk enough. We sat around and talked, sperm leaking from two of us onto the upholstery of the chairs.  

"Never dreamed I could get to you, Coach. Not in my wildest dreams."

"Yeah, it was nice."

Prentino smiled. "Maybe we can get together again from time to time."

Yep, there it was. The fine print. "We are not a pair. You can be part of my harem."

I didn't like the way Aaron and Steinbel sat so close, arms around each other, giving each other little love-pecks, pinching each other's cocks. "Looks like you two fit together," I growled.

"Yeah," Aaron said dreamily. "He really made me a man." He looked up at me. "Never knew what you were feeling, Dad." He looked back at the pimply little wimp. "Now I do. Harold took me to a new place."

No, no, no! "Well, you're going to be graduating soon, and Mr. Steinbel is just a freshman--"

--"I've been thinking, Dad, maybe I could hang around for a while--go to graduate school."

Shit! I couldn't think of Harold Steinbel as a son (or whatever you call the guy your son is shacked up with). What the hell. I poured us all drinks again.

The night "proceeded" from there. Plastered, I got Prentino's huge cock up me again, but I was a little too drunk to enjoy it. Somewhere in there, I matched up with Aaron again (and once more I almost wept when I realized he didn't have the size I needed anymore), and at one point--I must have been plastered out of my goddamned mind--I spread my legs and looked up to see Harold Steinbel lowering himself over me.

I looked down drunkenly to see what he was packing. Jesus Fucking Christ, I must be alcohol-poisoned!

Couldn't believe my eyes. The stumpy little teenaged wimp had the biggest cock in the room. A cockhead the size of Prentino's, a shaft as fat as Aaron's, and it was longer than anybody's! Belonged on a horse! Uncircumcised, it looked like a python with the head of a cobra, and smelled like road-kill.

When he sank that otherworldly thing into my ass, the ecstasy began instantly! There were even sounds to his entry: gaseous, greasy little pops as the great mass of his cock crowded out whatever air pockets were in my ass. I fell back, trembling, panting in short, desperate gasps! God, oh God!! Fire shot through me from head to foot, I heard the roar of jet engines in my ears, and I felt electrocuted!

The pimply boy was a fucking genius! I'd been fucked by the four rapists, by Aaron, and by the masterful Tony Prentino, but none of them had the techniques that kid had down pat. He started out with an in-out, in-out pace the speed of a man walking down the sidewalk, and it got good when he lengthened his strokes to a jog, then to a run, giving my ass a good stretch as he almost pulled it out each time. He knew--God, how he knew!--how closely connected pain is to pleasure in male sex. 

And he didn't fuck "straight." Angled his hips, skewed himself from side to side. Rotated. Every stroke into me was different, hit new spots, opened a universe of new sensations. Aaron could fuck me for a good 10-15 minutes before either of us got off. Prentino had got to me in a couple of minutes, but Steinbel started a climax in me after only six or eight strokes!

I couldn't withstand the raging orgasm! A volcano! Pleasure so terrible, so powerful, so overwhelming it canceled out all other sensations! My whole, entire, motherfucking body felt like an orgasming cock! 

And he talked! The little, pimply wimp had the dirtiest mouth I'd ever heard! Hissed into my ear that he would pump me so full of his cum I would drown in it, he would turn me into a cum-slut with no other purpose in life. I would be his slave, a piece of shit for him to step on! I was flat-out overwhelmed!

"Say it!" he barked, "Tell me!"

Couldn't help myself. "God, yes! Fuck me! Make me a slave! Let me be your bitch! Ram that big cock up to my brains!!" Jesus Christ, did that just come out of me?? 

I was in the hands of--no, impaled on--a master, a king of male pleasure! I loved it! The little wimp's cock welded me to him in ways I didn't know existed. To my horror, I realized with every stroke, he was folding the pages of my life into the book of his own. He was fucking me into his property, his servant, his adoring slave. No, this can't be happening! 

I didn't pass out, but I was completely senseless for what felt like hours! Completely lost track of time! Ejaculation was not the pinnacle of that ecstasy. I felt myself cumming and spurting out jet after jet of sperm--until my balls were empty and dry--but it was just blip in the universe of brain-frying ecstasy, and the pleasure went on long after!

Sometime, I don't know when, I finally must've blacked out. When I came to I lay on the floor, naked, a stream of something running out of my ass. My head was clamped in a vise. Oh, shit, the mother of all hangovers!

Gradually my hearing came back, and I rose up onto my elbows. Aaron lay on the floor near me, cum running out of his ass. Over under the table lay the naked Lieutenant Prentino. A white river ran out of his ass, too.

I looked up. In a chair looking down at me sat Harold Steinbel. Still naked. God, even soft, that cock is still the biggest thing in the room! "Good morning, Coach." His voice sounded like a bass drum booming in my head!

"Ah, God, don't yell!" I sat up. "What time is it?"

"Ten o'clock in the morning."

Oh, shit. "Did Madge come home last night?"

"Yes."

Fuck! "Did she see--"

--"She's right over there."

Madge lay on her back on the couch, naked, legs splayed open. A white stream dribbled from her cunt. "Jesus fucking Christ, Steinbel, what happened??"

"Well, when she came home, I didn't know I was supposed to hide anything, so she saw you all lying where you are now. She guessed the rest." He lowered his voice. "That made her mad." Then he smiled. "Next thing I knew, she wanted revenge. I fucked her for the rest of the night. She fell asleep only a few minutes ago."

He looked around, then back at me. "Looks like I got dibbs on all of you. Fucked every one of you at least twice." He chuckled. "Every one of you ended up begging me for it. You were the best, Coach. What was it you said? 'Make me your bitch, I want to be your slave'?" Another smile. "What do you think of my moving into this house with you?"

My ass was still purring. What could I say? "Why the hell not?"



Taken by My Boy



He broke loose from me and looked at his watch. "Oh, shit, I hate to say this, Dad, but I've got to get out of here!" He broke loose from me and ran to his bedroom.

I got up, fuck-drunk, and wandered dizzily down the hall after him. He was at his closet throwing on clothes. "This is such a mind-blowing development, Dad, I wish I could stay, but I HAVE to go see Dean Tazello, or I'll lose all my cumulative credits! Sorry!" He dashed by me and out the front door.

Well, I'll be a son of a bitch!

I went back to the living room and sat down. He doesn't hate me. Why in hell, then, did my own son take me? Is he in with some gang of hoodlums? Is he taking drugs?

I didn't go back to the college that afternoon. I didn't have any classes, and I could skip the time. I sat at home. Thinking. Trying to figure out what I was going to do about Aaron. 

And drinking. Robert Redford knew best: Drink only Scotch at least 12 years old. Glenlivit, my best friend.

That night, of course, I was jumpy as hell. I didn't expect another attack--the bastards left town--but I was all wound up. Knew I wouldn't be able to get to sleep. I couldn't figure out Aaron. Why had he been with them? And did he think he could hide it from me?

He was out late again. Poor Emily. I hoped he didn't knock her up. I ended up getting myself drunk and passed out on the couch.

Couldn't believe it when I felt somebody pulling me up. "Glad to see us again, Coachie?" The words made me instantly furious, but the little shits had me in their control again, pinning my arms. "We missed the bus. Got ourselves drunk and missed the goddamned bus."

Once they got me on my feet, they jammed me up against the wall. Fuck, why did I get even drunker than they? I was helpless.

"Gonna catch the morning bus, so we got us some extra time. Better get them clothes off, Coachie." I expected a yank at my pants, but the dirty dogs pulled my college polo shirt up over my head and off my arms. Then I felt my belt unbuckled, and with a mighty yank, the bastards pulled it through the belt loops and off. 

One of them was groping at my fly. "Whatcha got in there, Coachie?"

But the other one grabbed both my pantlegs and yanked them down, pulling my pants off in one swoop. I wished my head wasn't spinning, that I wasn't so dizzy. 

"Off with the jock, Coachie. I love it--ya go as commando as ya can. Yer a horny dude."

They yanked it down to pile at my feet on the floor. "Now spread yer legs again, and let's see how ya do standing up." 

"No fucking way!" I tried to struggle, but one of them hit me, and I went down. 

As they yanked me back up, I wasn't thinking of them as college students, as kids, anymore, they were felons I was going to put in jail if it took me the rest of my life! Even my own goddamned kid!

They picked me up again and faced me once more against the wall. I could taste blood in my mouth, and I was pissed. 

"Got your cherry last night, Coachie, so now we're old lovers. Spread yer legs out for me, and let's get at it." He stood behind me.

Ohmigod, NO! Every decent bone in my body was outraged when he rammed his cock up my rear end. "We cut up yer jockstrap last night, so now I figure we owe ya one back. Here ya go!" With that he crammed some cloth over my mouth and nose, then jammed it between my lips. 

I could hardly breathe! It was something nasty, such an odor I felt sick. My lips and tongue felt a rough mesh--Oh, shit, no! It really is a jockstrap!

The musk of his crotch was fit only for a toilet-diver, filling my nostrils with a circus of nauseating, overpowering stinks. Damn, did he ever wash this thing? 

They pushed me against the wall as the big guy's cock slid up my butt (gratefully not as painful as the first time). In fact, I gnashed my teeth in frustration--but it felt good. Aaron's first sex with me and his fuck at lunchtime had opened not only my backdoor but my whole thinking to new, strange possibilities.

I lifted one of my legs to ease the pain--and to make it easier for him to get in deeper. 

"Yeah, that's it, Coachie. Enjoy yerself." 

The bastard. That got me. Whatever happened, I wanted to see this son of a bitch in jail. But I also figured the faster I let him get his orgasm, the sooner this would be over. But I was ashamed--I was horny again, and I had a hardon.

That time the bastards noticed. "Hey, looky there! Coachie, are ya gittin' turned on? With a fine dick like that, ya must keep that varsity team happy."

Fuck! I was so ashamed my face blazed hot, but my goddamned body knew what it wanted. When one of them reached between my legs and grabbed my big flower, I bloomed for him. So fucking mortifying! He stroked me three times. Exactly three times, and I lost it!

I planted my feet like I was in the batter's box, let out a loud, hoarse, cave-man groan, and the ecstasy spread out from my cock like the roar of the crowd. It was a hell of an orgasm. With the guy's cock up my ass, pounding me like a stag rutting against a whimpering deer--and breathing nothing but pure male musk--I shot out streams of boiling jism in carloads, tight spurts that actually splashed off the wall and back onto me. 

"Hee-hee," giggled the morons. "This ol' alley-cat can still git it on!"

God, I was put down.

Worse, my asshole, clamping down on the cock lunging in and out of me during my climax, sent my rapist over the falls, too, and soon I had streams of his cum running back out of my ass and down my legs. 

Man, what an orgasm. I went loose, sagging against the wall, completely fucked out. And when he pulled back, I actually missed it, felt empty, wished it back. 

No, I do not feel empty! I do not miss the bastard who just fucked me! What in hell's the matter with me?

The big guy then grunted something in my ear. "Gonna let my posse do ya again, too, Coachie. They missed ya."

"Fuck you," I growled. "You've got me pinned. Nothing I can do about it."

He chuckled. "Coachie, nobody's been holdin' ya for the past ten minutes."

Ohmigod! It was true! Nobody was holding my arms against the wall. Nobody was holding my legs. I had been standing there letting the guy fuck me! Oh, fuck, was I degraded!

Before I could move, though, one of the others centered himself on me, and his cockhead nudged against my no-longer-resisting hole. Already slimy with Bastard #1, with a slight push, he was in and shoveling away.

Nobody was holding me. I let it happen. What the hell.

I could have struggled, I guess, but I mean, my ass was already full of semen. And I had cummed myself while being fucked. Whether I liked it or not, my life had changed. They had fucked me. And they knew I was beginning to like it. I had no more self-respect to lose.

So a few minutes later when the guy behind me got his gun, I had been jacking myself off, and as I got his hot slime gushing up inside me, I got off again, myself, spurting my own sperm against the wall and down onto the floor. What the hell. 

Nevertheless, I decided the third guy, Aaron, was not going to fuck his own father again!

When Bastard #2 pulled out, I moved to turn around and face them, maybe throw a few punches. The time had come for me to put my foot down. 

But the foot I put down slipped in the mess of sperm on the floor, and I went down like a sack of potatoes. Naked potatoes.

Before I could recover, Aaron was on me, pulling me up onto my hands and knees, spreading my legs. He had the black bag over his head, but I knew who it was. "Aaron! Aaron, don't do this!"

But Stab! His giant cock sank into me, up to the balls with a single stroke! He was big enough that even as loose as I was, he straightened me out with that thing, and I arched my back with the pain.

It dawned on me that I was becoming a whore. I liked his violent entry--I liked the pain. And something about the situation really turned me on, after all--Aaron was raping me. Wearing the black hood of a burglar. My son's cock was in my guts. Again.

Couldn't help myself. The very idea that I was being mounted by my rapist/son who held me helpless set me on fire. As he was only starting his fuck-routine, I must've surprised him when I let out a deep, bass growl and sprayed the poor carpet again with quick, short gushes of Coach-sperm.

"Looks like yer really gittin' into this, Coachie," Bastard #1 laughed. 

"Assholes," I growled. What else could I say? Thanks?

I couldn't deny it: I loved it when Aaron planted the hard lunges in me, when he short-stroked me on the way to his orgasm, when the splurge of his big load boiled up inside me. I tried to, but I was not really resisting. In fact I wallowed, I writhed, I contorted in pleasure as he had his way with me.

And when he finally pulled the big thing out, I missed it. I did feel empty.

I rolled over. That was Aaron, all right. My asshole knew that cock. 

Then I saw his foreskin slide forward over his cockhead!

I clenched my eyes shut and looked again. He had a foreskin! A big one. His cock looked like a Catholic monk with a dark hood. A cobra about to strike.

My mind buzzed, a Waring blender of confusion--Aaron was circumcised! Like me: no foreskin!

They left me lying on the floor, pulled on their clothes, and walked out of the house. The big one paused in the door. "G'bye, ya son of a bitch. Hope ya die soon."

I crawled back to lean against the wall. The house was caving in on me. Oh. My. God. I fucked my own son! Aaron was a clean, innocent guy, and I brought him down into the shit with me. I hoped the big fucker was right--I hoped I did die soon. Right then, as a matter of fact.

Not a long time later, Aaron opened the front door and walked in. "Hi, Dad. Emily and I were studying--Wow! You look hot! I love you naked!"

"That wasn't you. I know now."

"Wasn't me? Wasn't who me? He smelled my breath. "Dad, you're drunk." 

Well, to cut a long story short, until his mother came home, he slept with me, and on occasion afterward, whenever his mother had a headache or Emily wasn't putting out, Aaron and I "worked together out in the greenhouse."

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