Date: Mon, 5 Sep 2016 07:47:11 +0100 (BST)
From: z.blake@tutanota.com
Subject: Mennonite Tight 5

MENNONITE TIGHT
By Zachyboy
with special guest author Benjamin Thurmond
M/b, oral, anal

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This story is a work of fiction. Benj and I laid the groundwork, but we'll
leave the particular masturbatory details entirely up to you. Feel free to
grab your nearest bottle of lube or hand lotion for optimal pleasure. If
it's illegal to read this story where you live, it sort of begs the
question, what are you doing here? As always, no actual children were
touched, sucked, licked or ding-donged during the making of this motion
picture.

Please support the Nifty Archive Alliance. Your donations help keep the
fantasies soaring.

http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

On with the show.

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CHAPTER 5. WITH DEVIN

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My son Devin was 11 years, 4 months and 10 days old when Eli fucked him.

"He was a bit gun shy when he saw me headed toward his pink eye with my
cock, Mr. Blake, but he warmed up to it in the end."

"Did you penetrate him?" I asked him nervously.

"Penetrate him?" Eli chuckled. "Why, of course I penetrated him,
Mr. Blake. How else do you fuck a boy unless you penetrate him for heaven's
sake?"

He had me there.

"Lord yes, I penetrated him," he said with a disbelieving head shake, as if
I might have suddenly become a rider of the short bus. "I penetrated him
with every inch of cock I keep in my pants."

"Whoof," I said, reaching for my water and taking a sip.

"And if I'd had more cock on me," he said, "I'd have "penetrated" him with
the extra part too."

He said "penetrated" with gentle half-mockery that only turned me on, to be
honest.

"That young one of yours sure doesn't like a deep one, does he, Mr. Blake?"

I shook my head no and felt temporarily sorry for my youngest son.

"Mr. Inches," I said quietly, and my throat felt so dry, I had to take
another sip of my water.

"Mr. Inches," Eli smiled knowingly, patting his own cock through his pants.

I guess I need to back up for a minute and tell you who Mr. Inches is, and
what a proper shallow butt fuck means to my youngest son Devin.

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I started having sex with Devin when he was, well...let's just say he was
younger than he is now, and we'll just leave it at that.

I'd been having sex with his older brother Cole for two years already when
I started with Devin. You've heard the old expression "shit rolls
downhill?" Well, it's the same with butt fucks. Butt fucks roll downhill
too, it turns out.

Ask any three butt fucking boys in your neighborhood if you don't believe
me. Say they're 13, 10, and 8. I can guarantee you if the 13-year-old is
getting off in the 10-year-old's hole, then the 10-year-old in turn is
going to find a little revenge in the 8-year-old's ass. Turnabout is fair
play, when boys need to save face and fuck back. Hell, the 8-year-old
probably goes home and fucks his little brother. And we don't even dare
mention how old that little cutie is in polite company. Such, my friends,
is the role of pecking order in the evolutionary food chain of payback boy
fucks.

And it's much the same when you ditto a dad. If a dad is laying pipe to his
oldest son (and I was), it won't be long before son number one is taking a
turn up the butthole of son number two.

I caught them by accident one Saturday afternoon when they thought I was
down in my rec room watching the game. I mean, I was, but I'd wandered
upstairs to grab my phone and stopped dead in my tracks when I heard what
was clearly a round of boyfresh coitus going on behind Cole's cracked
bedroom door.

"No, stupid, You're not supposed to suck it after I put the lotion on it,"
I heard Cole grumble.

"Yuck," Devin said, making little spitting noises.

Live and learn, kiddo, I chuckled to myself. We've all made that oral
mistake along the journey.

"After I put the lotion on, you just lay down on your tummy and spread your
butt cheeks apart." Cole said. And right then and there, I knew a brotherly
butt fuck was about to clear the launching pad.

I heard shuffling and bed springs but I didn't dare move. I'd been fucking
Cole for two years now, but I didn't know he'd been passing on the
knowledge and I wanted to hear as much of this as possible.

"Now," said Cole. "Just lie there really still while Mr. Inches goes inside
your squeezy cave."

I think I nearly fainted on the spot. God, how I love a good fuck in
babytalk.

"Ow," I heard my little one say. "Not so much inches in me, dink head."

"Fine, fine, I'll slow it down, stupid."

No more noise until a solid "oof" from my youngest and the steady squeak of
the bed springs. Cole was fucking him good. I'd trained him well from the
bottom on-up.

"You got Mr. Inches in me," Devin giggled.

"Mr. Inches is fucking your stupid butt," Cole whispered.

Both boys giggled at the dirty old F-Word.

"Mr. Inches likes your squeezy cave," Cole grunted. "Squeeze your butt
muscles around him and make him tickle."

Silence again. Then Cole: "Ohh, yeah. Oh wow, Devin. That's good. Squeeze
harder."

No more talking, just quietly squeaking bedsprings until, Yesssss!" a
whisper, and "Owwww," a wince, and "Ohhhh, my tickles."

"Take it out, Cole. It's all juicy inside."

"Shhhh," Cole said. "It's still making twitches."

"I'm all lotiony back there. All greasy. Take it out, Cole! Now!"

Demanding little firecracker, my young one.

"Shhhh. I'll wipe you with my sock," Cole promised. "Shhhh! Let me stay
here for a second. In you."

I tiptoed away, hard as a rock. I slipped into the bathroom and masturbated
myself into a frenzy, cumming straight into the bathroom sink, imagining my
oldest boy fucking my youngest. Mr. Inches in the squeezy cave. I turned on
the faucet and swirled my cum down the drain, knowing I needed to put it in
my youngest son, too.

After that, it seemed a no-brainer to invite Devin into my world of sex
play. It started with a few touches and caresses while he was asleep. Then
downright fondling. Then fingering and licking and sniffing his balls. Then
the inevitable blowjobs I gave him until he shuddered and shaked. Believe
it or not, he pretended to stay asleep the first week I was blowing him
after bedtime until I heard Cole straighten him out another Saturday
afternoon.

"Just wake up and tell him you like it," Cole said, muffled behind a
partially cracked door. "Everybody likes there cock sucked, stupid."

"Really? He won't get mad if I wiggle up in his mouth?" asked Devin,
double-checking.

"He likes doing bad stuff, idiot," Cole said. "If he sucks your Mr. Inches,
suck his back."

"Ewwww."

"No really. He squirts a ton. It tastes like hot soup. Only goopy."

It was surreal, listening to my older son tell my younger son about my
semen.

"He'll stick it way up your butthole too."

"My what????"

"Your butthole, stupid. He'll stick his Mr. Inches in your butthole and
sperm in you."

"Ewwww."

"No. It feels good. Really."

"The whole thing?"

"The whole BIGGGG thing."

"Nuh-uh. Only a little for me. I've got a little butthole. I just need a
little Mr. Inches."

And so began the incestuous dance of escalation with my youngest. I was
still fucking Cole, but on the down low, I started slowly working on Devin
too.

Touches turned to cocksucks. Fingerpads turned to pinky insertions. For
weeks, my cock smelled like Cole's asshole and my fingers smelled like
Devin's. I was in double-entrance heaven.

Until the day inevitably arrived I put my penis in my little boy.

"Not all of it, Daddy," Devin said fearfully. "My butt won't hold it all."

"Shhh, baby. Just a little. Here we go."

"Just one inch, okay, Daddy? Just one of Mr. Inches."

"Okay, baby. Just one of Mr. Inches."

"Ow, Daddy. Owwwww."

"Shhhh, you're a good boy, Devin. Only good boys do this part for their
daddies."

And so it began. I fucked him with my tip, politely and gently. Kindly Old
Mr. Inches, breeding my daddysperm into his hole, a single inch at a time,
then two, then three.

"How much is Mr. Inches in me now, Daddy?" he asked last weekend.

"Three baby," I smiled at him, kissing his little salty neck as I shallowly
butt fucked him. "Mr. Inches is in you three this time."

"Good," he sighed, clenching his ass muscles around my half-shaft. "Three
is all I ever need."

I nodded and fucked him, politely and quietly.

And three is all he ever got. Enough for him to be comfortable and enough
for me to cum.

Until I met Eli of course, and arranged a son swap and put Devin through a
meet and greet with Eli's Mr. Inches, a little more accustomed to making a
boy obey and mind his manners, Mennonite style.

I still stopped at three when I fucked my 11-year-old Devin. I
self-regulated. But Eli was having none of that nonsense. Eli wasn't much
for following a boy's ridiculous restrictions.

In Eli's world, men call the shots, and boys obey. They're Mennonite tight,
but not for long.

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"Did he like it?" I asked him nervously, as we sat in our truck stop booth
and Eli recounted the fucking of Devin.

"Well, let's just say he wasn't planning on sending me any Christmas cards
at first."

"I've only ever tip-fucked him," I explained.

"Well, that's half the problem right there, Mr. Blake. If you start letting
you boy lay down the rules, before you know it, you're left with only half
your cock wet and a ferocious set of blue balls."

"But he let you do it?" I asked him. "He let you put it inside him all the
way?"

"Oh yes sir, Mr. Blake. He got a little skittish until I held him down and
made it clear he was going to be a brave boy whether he intended to or
not. He started sniffling and yammering on about Mr. Inches only going in
three notches in his squeezy cave at a time whenever you poked him. Good
Lord, Mr. Blake, it's like speaking an entirely new language while I was
fucking your boys."

I smiled at him...

"Says the man who has sticks and rumps and seeds and hindquarters," I
nodded.

"Fair enough," he grinned. "Anyway, I wasn't having any of his three-inch
skittishness, no sir. I had to back him up and explain to him when it comes
to man-sticks, three and three make six, and by my estimate, that's just
about what he was about to take up his rump, cooperation or not. And his
daddy might be content to take half a dip in the lake, but I was wading out
to the deep end and he was bringing his little squeezy cave with me,
whatever on earth that is, whimpers or not."

As always, my cock was hard just listening to this Mennonite man discuss
his no-nonsense way of bully-fucking a reluctant boy into total bitch-ready
compliance. "For their own good," he told me once. "You need a firm hand
and a firmer cock."

"But weren't you worried he wouldn't like it?" I asked Eli, thinking of my
son's poor bruised asshole, in a more lustful way than I'd thought of it in
a long time.

"Whether he might like or not it didn't really enter into the equation,
Mr. Blake. A man's got the stick and a boy's got the rump. "Like" is of no
great concern to me in that particular scenario."

I had to stop and eat a french fry. Whoof, I loved this filthy, no-nonsense
friend. A man is a man and a boy is a boy, and guess who's in charge. In
Eli's world, it's damn-sure not the boy.

It turned me on to no end imagining him deep-fucking my youngest last
night; the same boy who'd only take the first three notches of my
Mr. Inches, and balk at the mere suggestion of the second half. That's what
I admired about the sheer, unapologetic purpose of Eli. He didn't give a
shit if a boy balked or not. In his world a boy could balk, and guess what,
sports fans. That boy is STILL getting fucked.

"Did you fuck him hard?" I asked Eli.

"Oh, in the grand scheme, Mr. Blake, what's hard? Make him grunt? Make him
cry a little?"

"I honestly don't know," I admitted sheepishly.

"Shoot, Mr. Blake, my daddy used to fuck me so hard I couldn't sit down for
three days or walk for two. In comparison, I gave your little one a
friendly romp in the rump. I still gave him a slow ride in and out before I
shot my seeds up into his belly. In fact, I was downright gentlemanly after
he got over his whimpers and sniffles. I'm not truly sure he ever wanted
that much cock up his boy pussy, but then again, I didn't necessarily ask
him for his opinion."

"You didn't stop when he asked you to stop?"

"Why, Mr. Blake," Eli said slowly, exasperated with me, as if I were an
idiot again, "If we was to take our cocks out of a boy every time he
sniffled a little and said stop, take it out, it hurts, why none of us
would ever get any fucking done, and that's the Lord's honest truth."

I nodded.

"Sometimes," he sighed, spelling it out slowly for me, "you just have to
keep going for the sake of breaking a boy in."

I was beginning to understand his point. Or my dick was, anyway.

"Oh, he'll squiggle some, but you just have to keep at him steady for three
or four minutes and that pain in his rump will pass right through to
glory. No hole's tight anymore after five minutes of rooting it."

That much was true. I'd often though how Cole's hole simply opened up into
easy-loose comfort after I'd been fucking him for the first three
minutes. How his "tight" became accommodating. Pliant, open, begging for a
hard one. Devin's fuck box was likely the same, even though he was three
years younger.

Eli took another stab at his meatloaf, nodded and chewed thoughtfully.

"The minute you teach your Devin what that sweet little pussy hole of his
was put on this earth to do, you just watch the look on his face,
Mr. Blake. That fear of his will turn straight into pride."

I nodded. I really got this guy. I agreed with his theory, and couldn't
wait to get home to try my deeper understanding on Devin.

Eli taught me. Teacher to student.

"A boy has to learn somehow, Mr. Blake. We can't go pulling our cocks out
at the first sign of discomfort. A boy doesn't want to be treated like a
baby. It's for his own self-respect. Those rumps of theirs take a
stretch. They're not made of glass."

I nodded. He was right.

"So don't you go letting his tears and his whimpers cloud your judgment the
next time you line it up and fuck him with a ball load. If you're going to
take the time to do the job, then you do it right and you fuck him
deep. He'll thank you for it in the end, you mark my words."

My mind was reeling. My cock was throbbing.

"But it all went okay," I asked him. "The fuck was good once he loosened up
for you?"

"Well," Eli began...

I noticed a slight note of embarrassment in his tone.

"I took four or five strokes all the way deep up inside him and I could
tell he was threatening to be a little smudgy inside."

"Ah, yeah." I said. "He gets that way sometimes. He's 11. He's not very
tidy. I apologize."

"That's quite all right, Mr. Blake. Don't you give it a second thought. In
fact, some gentlemen like that boy manure business just fine. It's not my
cup of tea, but for some, he's right on schedule."

I nodded. It never bothered me a bit, personally. But that's just me.

"No sir," Eli continued. "I prefer my boys clean as a whistle while I'm
rooting my way up inside their bellies, so I just yanked out of your boy
and I trotted him straight into your bathroom and I sat his skinny little
rump down on the toilet and I had him do his business and then I hosed him
out good and proper with the shower nozzle and that was that."

"You gave him an enema?" I asked incredulously.

Eli waved me off with a casual backhand.

"Oh, he threw fits at first, but then he settled down. And we got the job
done in the end, so that was the main thing."

"I can't believe you fucked him," I said, shaking my head. "Do you know how
long I've been trying to coax him to open up and take my whole dick? I've
been half-fucking him forever, Eli. He stops me after the first three
inches every single time."

"Oh, he tried that tack for certain," Eli said. "It won't go in," he starts
hollering at me, having a Grade-A number-one hissy fit, Mr. Blake. All
sorts of drama, but I wasn't buying the ticket to the opry."

"Oh, it'll go in, little buck," I told him. "So you either settle down and
quit your fuss, or I'll go down to the icebox and grab a stick of butter
and I'll show you how far it'll slide right in. Now you just grit your
teeth and take a deep breath, sonny bob. It's going all the way in there
whether you want it there or not."

Lord, I needed a drink. Lord, I was dizzy.

"It was one for the record books, that's for sure, Mr. Blake."

"I'll say," I whispered. And I drained my water glass dry.

"When we get the boys together at the cabin next weekend, I'll show you how
to do it if you haven't figured it out yet," Eli promised. "That younger
one of yours can take it just as deep as the big boys, and when you get
home this afternoon, you'll find my seeds up his rump and way up deep
inside his belly to prove it."

My dick was about to explode under the table.

"I wouldn't mind eating some of that sweet pussy if his next weekend if
there's any to spare after you fuck a deep one into him." Eli said
hesitatnly.

I nodded. "Of course. I eat his sticky little hole all the time."

Eli held up a cautionary hand to draw a needed line in the sand.

"I'm not a tremendous fan of eating another man's load or seeds,
Mr. Blake. To be honest, I normally find such things unnatural and a bit
homosexual for my natural liking. But if it happens to be dripping out of
your little one's hindquarters, well then, you just plop that sweet cunt of
his on my lips after you breed him and I'll take care of making sure that
sweet little boy box of his is clean as a whistle for church on Sunday."

I had to go. I had to faint. I had to go home and fuck
Devin. Desperately. Quickly. Deeply.

"We'll see you at the cabin then, Mr. Blake. Next weekend. You have the
map."

And he stood up to leave.

I patted my pocked. I definitely had the map. I wouldn't lose that map for
all the cocklets in a fifth grade gym class.

But right now I needed to get home to tend to my boys.

My freshly-fucked, traded-off, Mennonite-spermed, sore-assed bred boys.

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Later that night when I was nudging my dick into Devin's ass, tale as old
as time, I nibbled on his earlobe and whispered to him tenderly, "Are you
okay, baby? Did Mr. Thurmond scare your pussy too much?"

"He didn't scare it, Daddy," Devin pouted. "He just put his seeds in it way
too far. Rump, he told me. Seeds go up my rump, as deep as he ever wants
them."

"Shhh," I whispered to him, kissing him gently and I continued to insert my
penis. "He knows better, baby. He knows a man needs to go in deep
sometimes."

"How far are you going in me, Daddy?" Devin looked worried. "Mr. Inches is
only supposed to go in three up my squeezy cave. My squeezy cave is sore
from Mr. Thurmond's mean stick-cock."

"Mr. Inches wants to see what he did up there, baby."

Devin stiffened.

"Mr. Inches wants to go way up inside and see if you're still okay in
there, okay?"

A pause from Devin.

"Okay, but just once, Daddy. Just do it just once."

His hands grabbed the bed sheets and he made himself brave for me.

He took a deep breath, his shoulders tensed up and that was my cue.

My penis slipped inside the slippery warmth of his rectum, way past the
loosening of his second magic sphincter, and there, married to a healthy
dollop of slippery lube and the remains of Eli's cum, I went balls-deep in
my eleven-year-old Devin for the first time in my life.

And the feeling was beautiful.

"Daddy loves you," I whispered in his ear. "Mr. Inches likes it way up in
here deep."

Devin grunted and reached down and started stroking his own little penis.

"It's okay, Daddy. It's okay, Mr. Inches," he whispered quietly. "You can
do it way up inside us now. Deep like you do it to Cole, Daddy. Deep like
Mr. Thurmond did it to me."

In the heat of the moonlight, I deep-fucked my Devin. Slowly, politely, but
firmly embedded.

"I'm getting there, Daddy," he whispered and shivered. His flash-fast
dickie hand was rubbing out a whimper for me, bringing him the magic-feels
as I grabbed his hips and pushed my cock into his wet little spongebob
squarepants.

"Gonna cum...with Mr. Inches..." I grunted. Then, "Nnnnnnggggghhhh! Fucking
you!" And I fired my load up my baby's sweet boycunt.

He shivered and whimpered and orgasmed with me.

"Can't wait for the cabin, Daddy," he drifted off dreamily as my cock grew
soft and slipped out of the slimy-wet ooze of him. "Can't wait to get
everybody's inches," he sighed, sleepily, sweetly.

Eli's son Samuel was 13 years, 6 months and 22 days old when I fucked him.

Eli's son Caleb was 10 years, 6 months and 29 days old when I fucked him.

My son Cole was 14 years, 2 months and 16 days old when Eli fucked him.

And my son Devin was 11 years, 4 months and 10 days old when Eli fucked
him.

And next week in the woods, in a cabin in utter privacy, we'd meet up and
mingle, with inches and semen, and sticks and seeds and boy rumps
galore. Mennonite tight, exhausted and fuck-happy. All six of us, in
combinations I'm still breathless just thinking about.

Ready, friends?

Can we fuck the finale?

Dicks out, everyone.

Boy holes bared.

All together now, friends...

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TO BE CONTINUED in a six-part story arc.

Chapter 1: The Meeting
Chapter 2: With Samuel
Chapter 3: With Caleb
Chapter 4: With Cole
Chapter 5: With Devin
Chapter 6: All Together Now

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Benjamin Thurmond's other fine stories on Nifty include:

http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/celebrity/lost-in-space-deleted-scenes
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/bisexual/adult-youth/my-buddys-kids/
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/bisexual/adult-youth/barnyard-fun
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/a-fathers-fantasies/
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/im-the-guy
http://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/adult-youth/tales-from-the-male-bag/secret-world-of-little-league-boy

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