Date: Sat, 22 Apr 2017 09:16:17 -0400 (EDT)
From: jon royale <jonroyale@optonline.net>
Subject: FUCK MY DAD (Revised)

FUCK MY DAD
by JRoyale
October 2014 (Revised 4/17)

Founder's Day in a quiet little 'burg features a special treat for the
winners of a game of chance.

This story depicts graphic sexual intergenerational encounters.  It is
meant soley for a mature audience.  Resemblance to anyone living, dead or
not yet born is purely coincidental .

The author wishes to express his warning that this story is largely un-PC
and contains material which some might fight offensive.  Venture onward at
your own risk.


Founder's Day in the small rural town of Lake's Edge was an annual affair.
With a population of just under 7,000, an all-time high, the sleepy New
England town dated back to the late 1700s.  A picturesque jewel nestled in
a deep valley and surrounded on all sides by rolling, wooded hills, it was
aptly named due to the six acre expanse of heavenly blue lake located just
on the outskirts of the town proper, serviced by a series of tributaries
flowing down from the hills.  Various cottages dotted the water's edge,
summer homes for tourists anxious to escape the hectic pace of city life as
well as permanent dwellings for some locals. Docks reached out into the
calm water, mooring pleasure crafts and serving as a base for leisurely
fishing and diving.

The sizeable town square was bordered on all four sides by a one-laned main
street.  Diagonal parking spaces allowed access to the tree-lined sidewalk
and the store fronts beyond.  The shops consisted of a small grocery
market, book store, a barber shop complete with an old-fashioned pole in
front, the local newspaper office and various other businesses.  At one end
of the square stood the Inn, the only place for lodging and dining in town,
while directly opposite was the large white court house.  Centered in the
grassy square sat a canopied bandstand.  Park benches and flower beds
usually were all that dotted the area, a place for neighbors to rest and
socialize in such pleasant surroundings.  Behind the square were homes of
the town residents, all old and quaint with the proverbial white picket
fence out front.  It was an idealic, peaceful community, bereft of large
supermarkets and department stores.  For those things one had to travel to
nearby Willow Run or Graveston, accessed by the one main highway leading in
and out of Lake's Edge.  Those who didn't operate a business in town worked
in one of those towns or the city, located more than an hour away.

The residents of Lake's Edge were largely male, with a 65% ratio as opposed
to 35% female. Most who had lived in or somehow migrated to the sleepy
little town grew restless with its lack of the amenities available
elsewhere.  Shopping malls and jewelry stores were more alluring than Pops
Hadley's general store, handed down from generation to generation and in
business for over one hundred years.  Young women seemed more eager to live
out their lives in a fast paced world, whereas the men of Lake's Edge, most
of whom were born and raised there, thrived in the peacefulness.

Founder's was the one day when Lake's Edge came alive.  From the moment the
old cannon was ignited, signaling the beginning of the festivities, until
long after the lakeside fireworks display at dusk, the square was a hubbub
of activity.  Out-of-towners poured in by the busload to share in the
celebration, lining up curbside to watch the annual parade.  The town
square was littered with pop-up booths featuring games of chance and
home-made food choices.  Shell games, fortune telling, a kissing booth and
a pie toss were some of the featured attractions.  A large ferris wheel had
been rented, skirting riders high above the trees and offering a
magnificent view of town.  One popular event was the dunking booth where
some local official, be it the mayor, police chief or some other dignitary
sat on a ledge and taunted the contestant to toss a ball at the bull's eye
which would drop them into the cool water below.  Scents of hot dogs,
sizzling burgers and popcorn filled the air, children ran about and a good
time was had by all.

Curiously enough, the most popular game with the younger boys and teens was
a ring toss, playable by those under eighteen only, sponsored by the three
Anderson brothers Various bottles were set up in front of the flaps of a
tent, which seemed to serve no real purpose.  The object of the game was to
toss a ring across the counter at the front of the setup and land it square
on a bottle.  Each player was allowed to select three rings for a dollar.
Enterprising little hooligans that they were, the Andersons were the only
ones who knew that only two of the rings in a bucket of thirty actually fit
down the neck of any given bottle.  What was even more surprising to most
was that there appeared to be no real prize for the potential winner.
While most booths displayed dangling stuffed animals or some other item
donated by businesses as far wide as the nearest city, there was nothing
there at the bottle toss.  Or so most thought.

All small towns gossip and Brenda Anderson was the talk of the town only a
few short years back.  Steve Anderson, a former marine and all-around good
guy, was diagnosed with a life-threatening brain tumor and required risky
surgery.  The surgery to remove the tumor was a success but Steve suffered
complications.  Something had happened to his brain during the delicate
procedure and Steve, a one-time mechanical engineer, was rendered incapable
of thought processes which had come so easily to him in the past.  Brenda
claimed he behaved as if he were as young as his teen age sons, carefree
and with no responsibility.  The doctors concurred that Steve's brain waves
showed a marked change. Brenda tolerated the change in her husband for a
little over a year before she packed up and took her sons out of Lake's
Edge.  Locals were appalled by Brenda's selfish actions---the subsequent
divorce---and rallied to support Steve.

It wasn't as though he was completely helpless.  Steve tended to the upkeep
of his home, planting the garden and mowing the lawn, as diligently as he
ever had.  But when it came to writing a check or making a major decision
he was totally inept.  His out-of-state brother was given power of attorney
and handled Steve's bills via internet.  He received a decent disability
check once a month but rented himself out mowing lawns and doing yard work
for Lake's End residents for extra cash.  Many eyes lecherously peered from
behind lace curtains when Steve, stripped to the waist, rode his mower
across a lawn.  He was a good-looking, dark-haired ex-Marine with
impressive musculature, enhanced daily by his post-surgical fascination
with weight training.  It was as though he was a kid all over again---a kid
trapped inside a man-sized body.

Brenda, always on the prowl for a new husband, was a lousy mother.  Always
had been.  Before his tumor Steve had been the disciplinarian in the
family.  Without his once firm hand the three boys had run wild.  Todd,
Tommy and Timmy, aged seventeen, fifteen and twelve respectively, were
mischievous teens with a well-honed knack for trouble.  Not a week went by
that Brenda wasn't being summoned to the school because of some prank one
or the other had pulled.  Todd, the eldest, was on the brink of expulsion
and Timmy, the youngest, seemed to be following in his footsteps.  Just
before year's end he had taken it into his head to cut off Melissa Sue
Henry's pig tails as she sat in front of him in mathematics class.  Tommy
was no better than his brothers but, perhaps, even more frightening.  He
was the brooding type, always with his brow furrowed.  Brenda wasn't
exactly sure what was going on in his mind, but she knew whatever it was
wasn't good.  That's why she eagerly shipped her sons off for weekends with
their father as often as possible, even though she knew they'd get no
supervision there.  They were little hooligans and would most likely one
day wind up serving time in jail.  Better to wash her hands of them sooner
rather than later.

One after the other their classmates tried their hand at ringing a bottle
while Todd held a bundle of bills in his hands, weighing their profits.
Word of the Founder's Day game had spread like wild fire throughout the
school and the result was a virtual mob scene in front of the booth.  Each
boy was desperate to dip his paw into the bucket and select the correct
ring.  Bobby Farraday muttered a defeatist "fuck" when the last of his
rings failed to make purchase, clearing the way for Matt Dwyer to take his
chance.  Matt, a ninth grade classmate of Tommy's, stepped up to the
counter.  Slapping down a dollar he reached into the bucket Tommy held out
for him and made his selections.  The other boys stepped aside as he
carefully lined up the first bottle and tossed, barely missing making
contact.  The second skittered around the neck of the bottle but was not a
perfect fit.  He paused, took a deep breath and concentrated before tossing
the last of his rings.  He badly wanted to win, intrigued by the promises
of the middle Anderson brother.  The black ring flew through the air,
turned about twice and landed perfectly in place on the middle bottle of
the assemblage.  He shot a fist into the air, bellowing "YES!" amid the
cheers from teenaged onlookers.


Anchoring a palm on the counter Matt vaulted over the platform anxious to
collect his winnings.  He had a wide smile on his wholesome,
fifteen-year-old face.

"Kudos, Matt-skie!" Tommy said, bumping fists with his classmate.  "You're
the first, dude!"

Older brother Todd came up beside them.  "Take him on back, Tommy.  He won
this shit fair and square."

Matt was all eagerness as Tommy led him toward the entrance to the tent.
Tommy pulled back a flap just enough to allow them entry and quickly shut
it behind them.  Matt gave a strangled gasp when he saw what was contained
in the inner sanctum.  A makeshift sign dangled from one support reading
"FUCK MY DAD" and there, on a low wooden picnic bench, lay Steve Anderson,
the boys' father.  Mr. Anderson was buck naked, his big muscular arms
secured behind him while a noose around his neck loosely connected him to a
peg on the table top.  Awestruck, young Matt gaped at the big, older man.
Mr. Anderson was definitely what the girls called a hunk.  He was probably
the same age as Matt's dad, late thirties, but he was a real handsome dude.
His light brown hair was worn conservatively short and parted at the side,
framing a wholesome face accentuated by deep-set hazel eyes, a thick
jutting and, Matt guessed, sensual lower lip and a strong lantern jaw.
Everything about the man's strong body spoke of masculinity.  Matt figured
the stud must pass on dessert because there wasn't a trace of fat on his
impressively muscled frame.

Mr. Anderson's rolling biceps were even more prominent with his heavy arms
secured behind his broad, tapered back.  Marine dog tags dangled from his
thick, ox-like neck, resting against his wide, hairless chest featuring
nicely mounded pectorals capped by large golden brown succulent man-nips.
His belly was flat and trim, rippling with abdominal indentations, his
thighs huge in comparison to Matt's developing teen legs.  Even his feet
were the perfect man's feet, large and meaty.  And the fat man meat lazily
resting along one thigh looked to be about six to seven inches soft, maybe
more than Matt had when sporting wood!  Golf ball sized nuts nestled
between the spread of his smooth legs as he casually lay there on his side
looking over at the boys.

"Wh-what's your dad doing here---like that?" Matt stammered, his mouth gone
suddenly dry.

Tommy spread his arms and nodded toward his father, "Dad's the ring toss
prize!"

Matt's eyes widened. "B-but you said we were gonna get some pussy if we
won."

Tommy's eyes were dark as he advanced on his father, calmly resting there
with his legs positioned in an "L", one on its side and the other cocked up
and anchored on the sole of his foot.  Matt's wondrous eyes bulged when
Tommy reached between the juncture of his hunky father's legs and, without
hesitation, stuck his middle finger between the folds of the man's asshole.
"This here's pussy," he informed his classmate while working his digit in
and out, "Dad pussy.  And best you're gonna find around these parts."

Matt was amazed at how calmly Mr. Anderson accepted his son's man-handling.
Everyone knew the boy's father had gone a little soft in the head after his
brain surgery, but it seemed unlikely that he would show no resistance.
There was no gag in his mouth to prevent him from voicing an objection.
Instead, it seemed as though he actually enjoyed being lewdly fingered.
His eyelids were fluttering dreamily and his tongue was flicking out to
lick his lips.  Tommy had added a second, then third, finger to the mix and
was really shoving them in and out of the moist asshole.  There was an
almost maniacal look on his features as he blatantly frigged his dad in
front of the other boy.  A stunned Matt observed Mr. Anderson's cock begin
to stir.  Like a waking snake it stretched out across his thigh, then
slowly rose as it filled with blood and plumped up to its full ten,
beautifully sculptured inches.

"Ya see," Tommy said, "he fuckin' likes it.  Fucker likes it even better
when there's a stiff dick up his dad hole.  Now, you gonna take your prize
or you gonna pussy out?"

"Damn, Tommy, I dunno," the slim fifteen-year-old replied, although the
bulge in the front of his knee-length shorts proved otherwise.

Tommy's brows furrowed.  "We ain't got all day, dude.  Some other boy's
gonna ring a bottle and want his turn.  We can't have 'em lined up out
there or somebody's gonna get wise to what's goin' on."  Then, with a sweep
of his arm, "Come over here, dickhead!"

Matt swallowed hard and gingerly approached father and son.  Up close
Mr. Anderson was even more breathtaking in his unabashed nudity.  "Gimme
your hand," Tommy commanded agitatedly.  When Matt hesitated Tommy, using
the same hand he'd been fucking his father with, roughly grabbed him by the
wrist and brought it between Steve's parted thighs.  "Go on, finger fuck
him a little.  Once you get a feel of that hot dad cunt you're gonna wanna
fuck it for sure, dude."

Matt felt a swampy warmth emanating from Mr. Anderson's private spot and
tentatively rubbed the tips of his fingers against it.  The handsome older
man let out a sigh of satisfaction and encouragingly ground his ass back on
him.  Seeing that it was alright with the dad, Matt worked his middle
finger in between the rubbery folds of ass flesh and slipped it in as
deeply as it would go.  Steve's warm ass walls lovingly caressed Matt's
digit, tightened up around the small intruder and seemingly attempted to
pull it deeper inside.  Matty's mouth was agape with wonder and his teen
cock was creating a wet spot in the front of his shorts.  He really liked
the feel of Mr. Anderson's asshole.  The only pussy he'd had before
belonged to eleven-year-old Janey Perkins; this was a whole lot better!  He
liked it so much that he worked in two more fingers, his eyes bright with
excitement as he corkscrewed them around in the man cunt.  Mr. Anderson
squirmed on the table and bucked back against him, the three boy digits
feeling more like the pleasurable width of a cock in his adult puss.

Tommy backhanded Matt across the back of his head.  "Awright already, pull
out your dick and fuck him!"

Any reservations young Matt had upon entering the tent were long gone.  The
fifteen-year-old was hot to fuck!  Fumbling with his zipper, he stepped out
of shorts and briefs and climbed up onto the table.  Mr. Anderson was still
on his side propped on one side, but Tommy had taken hold of one of his
muscular legs by the ankle and lifted it to the roof thereby spreading his
father like a wishbone.  "He's already lubed.  Go on, fuck 'im," he
commanded.  Matt could only imagine how the lubing session had gone but, by
this point, he no longer cared.  Scooting between the juncture of
Mr. Anderson's marine thighs the boy eagerly shoved his six-inch teen dick
into the heated daddy pit.  He threw back his head and sighed, his trim
body trembling, at the sensation of Mr. Anderson's asshole clamping down on
his boy dick and massaging it in the grip of its snug glove.

"Fuck me, boy!" came the deep, baritone voice of Steve Anderson.  It was
the first time he'd spoken since Matt encountered him in the tent, the
first verbal affirmation he'd given to this lewd undertaking.  But his
words seemed to incense Tommy.

"Shut the fuck up, Dad-slut!" he retorted angrily, roughly jerking his
father's beefy leg.  "You know the rules.  You don't get to say 'nuthin!"
Steve obediently nodded at his son, then redirected his attention to the
lean young man buried in his hot dad ass.  He nodded again at Matt, as if
to offer encouragement.  He quickly learned that the excited boy needed
none. Entrenched in Tommy's dad's hot ass Matt started humping with short
but fast rabbit strokes, fucking the slick hole as deeply as his teen dick
would allow.  It felt awesome, like nothing he'd ever imagined before.
Mr. Anderson's insides were squirming around his young meat and clinging to
him as if afraid to let him go.  Matty's dick never fully came out of
Anderson's fuck hole.  He rapidly fucked with the first three inches of his
randy teen rod, his young cum-loaded ball sac continually slapping against
the grown man's naked flesh.  The kid's breathing was already becoming
labored and beads of sweat were dotting his brow.  Like all young pups he
was full of wonder and exuberance at sinking his horny dick into any
accepting soft, warm hole.

Neither of the boy's noticed the self-satisfied smile that played about the
lush lips of Steve Anderson.  Although trussed up and secured to the table
he was anything but an unwilling participant in his sons' perverse game.
Prior to his life-threatening surgery Steve had been a pussy-loving,
heterosexual man.  But afterwards, things had changed.  The doctors and his
brother explained it to him, but Steve hadn't thoroughly comprehended their
words.  Something about the tumor and a complication from the surgery that
altered his brain somehow.  Steve had trouble comprehending this.  He
didn't feel any different.  In fact, he'd never felt better in his life!
He was in great physical shape and worked hard to stay that way. The
townsfolk, most of whom he'd known all his life, were friendly and kind,
inviting him to social gatherings and bringing him an unending supply of
scumptuous left-overs and baked goods.  Maybe it was the tumor, but Steve
couldn't remember them being so neighborly when he was married to Brenda.

And his boys came over.  Often, especially when school was out.  They loved
him.  He knew they did.  They couldn't seem to wait to be away from their
mother and spend a few days, sometimes weeks, with dad.  They taught him
things.  Things he'd forgotten.  Or maybe never knew.  They taught him that
his male ass was made for fucking.  It was a secret thing sons did with
their dads, they convinced him.  So secret, in fact, that he must never
tell anyone.  Timmy, with tears brimming in his then-eleven-year-old-eyes,
had pleaded, "Please, daddy, don't tell!  If mommies find out, they don't
let daddies see their little boys anymore!"  Steve never wanted to make his
sons go away for good.  He would do anything to make them happy.  Anything.

Steve's asshole flexed around the teen cock humping into him, just as his
boys had coached him.  Matty wasn't reaching as deep as some he'd had, nor
was he as shallow as some others.  It was relatively comparable in length
to Tommy's prick, although Tommy had more girth.  Tommy was a really nasty
fucker.  Steve couldn't understand where all the boy's aggression came from
but he seemed to take it all out on his dad's cunt, usually pounding Steve
until he was sore.

Just the other night Steve had been tucked comfortably into his bed,
reflecting on the pleasant day he'd spent with his sons paddle-boating and
picnicking at the lake, when the door suddenly burst open and the room was
flooded with light.  Rising on am elbow he squinted and was able to make
out Tommy standing there with his finger still on the switch.  The teen,
clad only in his boxer briefs, had a sinister sneer on his angular face as
he looked across at his hunky dad.

"Tommy?" he inquired.  "Is there something I can do for you, son?"

The surly youth with the longish mop of wavy hair hooked his thumbs into
the waistband of his briefs and dropped them around his ankles, revealing
his pulsing hardon.  "Yeah, dad-fuck," he growled, pulling on his dick and
approaching the foot of the bed, "you're gonna take care of this."

As Steve watched wide-eyed, the fifteen-year-old grasped a handful of the
bed coverings and tore them from his father's prone body.  The boys had
taught Steve the advantages of sleeping in the raw and Tommy was secretly
pleased to see that his father had obeyed.  "Turn around," Tommy ordered,
"I'm gonna fuck you like the fuckin' dog you are!"

Steve winced at Tommy's foul language but failed to reprimand him, lest he
upset his boy.  "You don't want to wake your brothers.  They've had a long
day," Steve reminded him as he obediently rolled over, propping himself up
on knees and elbows, his big daddy ass thrust out toward his son.

"Sleepin' like fuckin' babies," Tommy told him as he spat into his palm and
coated his teen cock with the lube.  "You're my piece of ass tonight,
Dad-fuck!"  With that retort he slapped Steve's ass cheeks hard, noticing
that the solid cakes barely jiggled.  Aroused he repeated the measure again
and again, cocking his arm all the way back and making solid blows until
his dad's buttocks were a fiery red.  Steve winced and grunted through
clenched teeth, his daddy dick filling with blood and growing beneath him.

With his excited teen cock dripping a rope of pre-cum, Tommy hoisted
himself up behind his father and rammed all six inches of himself into
Steve's hole.  Steve heaved forward at the sudden intrusion but Tommy
grasped his dad's hips and pulled him back into position.  Tommy pulled
back only a couple of inches and sunk in again, teasing his father.  He
leaned in closer over his father's back and whispered into his ear.

"You like that son-cock, don't you, Dad-slut?" Steve could smell the
nicotine on Tommy's breath and made a mental note to speak with his son
about that dangerous habit.  "You want me to rip your ass apart with my
dick, right?  Right, Dad-fuck?"

Steve breathed heavily.  He did like the feel of cock up his ass.  His sons
had taught him to like it.  And he knew it pleased them every bit as much
as it pleased them.  His pleasure, as always, was secondary to theirs.

"Yes, Tommy!" he replied in his deep, baritone voice.  "Dad wants you to
fuck him!  Fuck him good, boy!  Make him proud!"

Tommy grinned evilly and came up on his toes.  Hunched over his father he
began piston fucking his randy teen rod in and out of the hot bottom.
Steve was slack jawed, his mouth agape and his eyes focused straight ahead
in an almost hypnotic gaze as Tommy plowed him with reckless abandon.
Tommy repeatedly drove his cock into Steve, his pelvis slamming against the
man with each wicked thrust.  With an almost maniacal gleam in his eyes and
a sadistic smile on his face he drilled Steve with his teen shaft, crashing
into him as if he were trying to hurt the dad ass.

Steve could always count on really getting fucked when Tommy was in the
driver's seat.  Todd and Timmy could also get a little rambunctous when
they wanted to, but Tommy was always a forceful fucker.  It was hard going,
but Steve attempted to constrict his ass walls against the foraging member.
Tommy wasn't quite as big as his older brother, but dad had no problem
feeling it.  He relished in the sensation of Tommy's pistoning cock sliding
along in the confines of his ass and stabbing at the clit they had told him
was up inside him.  It sent wave of pleasure to every nerve ending in his
brawny body and caused his dad cock to spasm and leak a steady flow of sac
lava.

"Fuck me, Tommy!" he managed through gritted teeth, knowing how much his
middle son loved nasty sex talk.  "Fuck my dad ass hard, boy!  Harder!"

It was all the ammunition Tommy needed to amp up his efforts.  With his
hands pressed down on his father's tapered middle back, Tommy lunged into
the hot hole with vicious full-force thrusts.  His backside was a blur as
he fucked into his father---totally out of control now.  He was panting
heavily and muttering incoherently as his prick sawed into the man, his
balls swinging heavily and noisily slapping against manflesh.  His pants
became grunts, his grunts became sighs and suddenly he was whimpering like
a wounded animal as his pent-up teen load blasted into his dad's fucked-out
man cunt.  Winded, he fell atop his father, who dropped down onto the
mattress, trapping his own hard cock between his belly and the bed. Tommy's
hands caressed the muscles of Steve's big arms and his rounded shoulders
and his lips traced the back of the man's bull-sized neck while he ground
his cock around in his sea of cum.  Then, suddenly, as if shocked by his
actions the boy bolted up, ripping his boyhood from his father's ass and
scrambled off the bed.  Steve rolled over onto his back, big daddy dick
standing tall and angry from his groin, and raised on his elbows to
curiously observe his son.

Using his briefs to wipe his cock clean, Tommy scowled at his father.  "Get
to sleep, dad-fuck.  We want breakfast nice and early in the morning.
Gotta work on our booth for the Founder's."  And with that he flicked off
the light switch and left the room.  Steve lay back in the darkness,
wrapped his hand around his meat and stroked himself to a quick, satisfying
climax before drifting off into a peaceful sleep.



Now Matt was hammering into Steve with as much gusto as Tommy had on that
night.  But both Andersons knew Matt wouldn't last much longer.  He was far
too aroused.  And that was fine by Tommy.  He needed to keep things moving
so that his dad's cunt was freed up for the next winner.  He observed
Matt's slender ass cheeks dimple with each hurried fuck thrust.  His bare
ass trench was glistening with teen sweat.  A finger from Tommy suddenly
shoved up that ass would get him off in a heartbeat, but the younger
Anderson knew he wouldn't have to resort to that ploy.  From the sighs and
moans coming from Matty he surmised the kid was only seconds from launch.

Matt proved him correct by suddenly tensing and ripping his boy meat from
the hungry hole. Standing on his knees with his eyes rolled upward in their
sockets and his mouth agape, Matt gave his ass-wet dick a few strokes and
the cum began blasting out of his tube.  Volumes of young, spunky boy cum
spurted outward, spraying over Steve Anderson's big cock and hefty balls.
The kid moaned and shuddered through his orgasm, the likes of which he'd
never had before.  Tommy, standing on the sidelines, grinned wolfishly at
the sight of his father's genitals coated with his classmate's spent cum.

Barely allowing the kid to catch his breath Tommy was already tapping Matt
on the shoulder.  "Alright, dude, you're done here.  Move aside for the
next."

Matt looked as though he'd just had a major revelation.  "C-Can I try to
win again?"

"Nuh-uh," Tommy told him.  "Only one win allowed.  Now get the fuck out of
here.  And keep your mouth shut."

Matt scrambled for his clothes.  "No way, Tommy.  I ain't sayin' nuthin'.
You sure got an awesome dad!"

"Yeah, he's a real fuckin' prize," Tommy smirked.  Once Matt had exited
through the tent flaps Tommy went over to stand before his father.  With
arms folded over his chest he mockingly inquired, "Did you like that,
Dad-Fuck?  Did you like your hole gettin' torn up by one of my buds?"  His
ears perked when he heard shouts and applause from just outside.  "Sounds
like you're about to get your next customer.  But first we gotta clean you
up."  He reached for a bucket of water resting in a corner of the tent and,
lifting it, said, "Nasty Dad-Fuck with all that teen cum all over you!"  In
one deft motion the contents of the bucket were hoisted against Steve's
groin, effectively washing away most of Tommy's spent load.

Just then there was motion from the entrance and twelve-year-old Timmy came
into the arena, leading a younger boy by the hand.  The kid was cute, with
a host of freckles on his chubby cheeks and wheat blond hair done in a bowl
cut.

"Who da fuck is this?" Tommy addressed his youngest brother.

"This here's the new winner.  His name's Jeremy and he's in the fifth
grade."  Jeremy's eyes were wide as saucers staring at the naked stud with
a raging boner spread out on the picnic bench.

"Does he even get a hard-on?" Tommy quipped.

"Course he gets a hard-on, ass-wipe," the younger brother retorted.  "Can't
cum yet but he can get a woodie harder'n you prob'ly.  Now get the fuck out
so he can hop on Dad.  Unless you wanna watch."

"Fuck you, little bro," Tommy spat back.  His brother never ceased to amaze
him.  The kid, although young and with less experience, was probably the
most perverted and inventive of them all. Thrusting up his middle finger he
turned and made his exit.

Jeremy stared dumbfounded at the grown man.  "I-is that really your daddy?"

"Yeah, dude, ain't he hot?"  Then quickly, "For a dude, that is.  Was a
marine.  You know what they are, right?  Real macho manly men.  Only my
dad, he likes to get fucked.  Likes to suck, too.  He'll do anything we
want him to do.  Ain't that right, daddy?"

"Whatever my boys want," Steve replied, tenderness apparent in his deep
voice.

"See?  My daddy's like a big toy for us to play with," Timmy went on
excitedly.  "And he 'specially likes it when we play with his butt.  Just
look!"  Jeremy didn't really need to follow Timmy's pointed finger.  His
wondrous eyes were fixed on the bare butt-hole hungrily pulsing right in
front of them.  He absent-mindedly fondled his poker-stiff, four-inch
boy-cock through his shorts.

In actuality it was Timmy who had become most fascinated in playing with
his father's ass since the Anderson men's reunion.  He wasn't much older
than Jeremy when the brothers took dominion over Steve.  Watching his daddy
getting repeatedly fucked by Todd and Tommy, and knowing how good it felt
when he slipped his immature dick into the warm chasm, made Timmy naturally
curious as to how much the man could actually handle.  His experimentations
commenced the moment his brothers were out of the house.  He found a host
of items to shove up into his father's ass.  Broom, mop and screwdriver
handles made him giggle but there was a real sparkle in his adventurous
eyes when he invaded the family refrigerator.  With Steve up on the butcher
block kitchen table, lying on his back and holding his beefy legs wide
spread, Timmy fed him an assortment of fruits and vegetables.  Ripe
bananas, fat zucchini and an extremely dangerous-looking hot-house cucumber
were stuffed into the expanding hole.  Timmy sat on his father's chest,
naked as a baby, maniacally thrusting one veggie up his father's ass while
working the other into his mouth.  He didn't even stop when Steve, hand's
free, shot a big daddy load.  Timmy tortured Steve, sometimes for hours,
into a second and third orgasm with assorted produce, sausage and kielbasa.
As if that wasn't enough, the demented tyke soon got the idea to work his
young arm into his daddy, punching into Steve up to the elbow.

And then there were the men wide-eyed innocent Timmy lured to the Anderson
home.  Most were travelers lodged at the Inn for the night, just passing
through town.  How his young son enticed them into coming over to the
Anderson house to fuck his dad remained a mystery to Steve.  But it seemed
to make the youngster happy.  While the businessman pounded his hefty cock
into Steve's muscle ass Timmy laid beside them, pumping his cocklet and
encouraging them to really plow his daddy.  Steve was pleased by his boy's
obvious joy.

Timmy never failed to surprise with the assortment of treats, sometimes
dangerous ones, that he brought home.  He managed to coax Wiley Jim, the
town drunk, into getting it up enough to fuck his dad and then piss a
bladder full of cheap beer into his father's gullet.  With the promise of a
warm place to stay overnight he brought two hobos nested in a cardboard
shack along the railroad tracks into the house and gleefully giggled as the
unwashed pair double penetrated his father.  Afterwards, it took over a
week to air the stench of the two out of the house.  Possibly the most
frightening was the ex-con Timmy corresponded with via internet, inviting
the freshly paroled black man to Lake's Edge for a weekend.  It was quite a
surprise when the heavily muscled 6'6" giant showed up on the Anderson
doorstep with duffle bag in tow and even more of a shock to the other
brothers to learn the big man fucking their dad had been convicted of
aggravated assault.  When the weekend was over the giant didn't intend to
leave and it took some special conniving on the part of all three---and a
good deal of Steve's cash---to finally get rid of him.  There was never a
problem luring some pedo to the Edge.  A few had flown in from out of state
at the young boy's request.  Sometimes Timmy let the pervs suck his boy
cock, but only after they'd fucked a load into his dad.  Possibly his most
twisted "hook-up" was when he "borrowed" the Freemont family's German
Shepherd...


Although he was only ten years old, Jeremy was already a horny little boy.
He peeked through his parent's bedroom keyhole plenty of times and
delightfully watched his daddy fuck his mommy's cunt.  He'd even spied on
his older teen aged brother wanking his rod.  Jeremy was wide eyed when
Jason flipped his legs up over his head and managed to lick the head of his
pee-pee until it shot all that ball goo over his face and into his mouth.
Jeremy's little pricklet was hard as steel observing all the familial
goings on and he wanted a piece of the action for himself.  When he heard
the underground buzz around school from Timmy Anderson he knew he just had
to try his hand at scoring those rings and seeing for himself if everything
Timmy said about his daddy was true.

And it sure as heck was!  There lay Mr. Anderson, all naked with his big
daddy cock harder than a nail and his shit hole looking like it was begging
for a little boy's attention.  Harboring all those hedonistic fantasies
he'd fashioned from watching his family in action, Jeremy excitedly rubbed
his hands together, smacked his lips and advanced on the dad on the table.
With big blue eyes peeking out from under white blond bangs he stripped
himself of all clothing and, with Timmy's assist, climbed atop the picnic
table.  The heat emanating from the grown man's masculine body overwhelmed
and enticed him.

"Do anythin' you want to him," Timmy encouraged, "He's a nasty daddy."

All Jeremy could think about was sliding his little dickie inside the wet,
winking asshole and doing what he'd seen his daddy doing to mommy.
Sometimes daddy fucked mommy's snatch really, really hard and seemed to
like it best that way.  That's what Jeremy wanted to do; really lay it on
to a pussy like his daddy did.  Mr. Anderson was so much bigger and so much
stronger than him.  Young Jeremy had never had a piece before; all he knew
was from his peeping.  That's what he had to do: really fuck the man's ass
just the way his daddy would do.  He knew his little prick couldn't do the
damage his daddy's big seven-incher would but he was gonna give it all he
had.  If it wasn't for the eighteen-and-under ring-toss rule his daddy
might just be standing there in his place right now, throwing his big cock
to Timmy's dad.  Jeremy puffed up his pudgy under-developed chest just like
his daddy would do and crawled between the spread of Mr. Anderson's hairy,
muscular legs.  Far too excited for any preliminaries, Jeremy easily
slipped his underage prick into the inviting man hole---and instantly went
into dry orgasm.  His pudgy little body spasmed and quivered while
Mr. Anderson's hot pussy squeezed tightly down on his sensitive cocklet.
Even though it had lasted only a couple of seconds Jeremy was in complete
bliss.

"Fuck Jer, my dad was your first pussy, wasn't he?" Timmy acknowledged.
"That's alright, dude.  Sometimes he makes me cum real quick when I fuck
'im.  Just keep fuckin' his ass.  The second cum is even better'n the
first."

"T-T-Timmy," the youngster gushed, his head tossed back and his baby blues
rolled up in his skull, "It feels sooooooooooooo good!"  Mr. Anderson had
his ass muscles clenched so tight around Jeremy's boy cock that the tyke
thought he might snap it right off at the base!  The adult asshole felt
totally awesome---really hot and nicely moist around his buried little-boy
meat.  The contours of Steve's butt cheeks dimpled as he clamped down on
the small dickie, just like the older boys taught him to do to Timmy when
he was Jeremy's age.  The youngster would derive more pleasure out of it
that way and, besides, Steve wanted to feel something, too.

Young Jeremy was like a little speed demon, the baby fat on his still
undeveloped body jiggling as he sawed his cocklet through Steve Anderson's
gripping sphincter.  His tongue hung out, curled over to one side of his
mouth as if he was meticulously working at the job.  His wide baby blues
were focused on the point of contact, mesmerized by the sight of his
boyhood moving in and out of the wonderful fuck hole.

"That's it, Jer!" Timmy cheered him on.  "Fuck my daddy!"  There was an
almost insane glint in his eyes and the smile of satisfaction illuminated
his cute face.  Quickly deciding to join the fun he stripped off shorts and
undies and jumped up on the table with the other two.  Steve, his arms
still manacled at the wrists behind him, had propped himself up on the
elbows---probably not the most comfortable of positions, although his sons
had placed him in a lot worse over the past few years.  But Steve never
complained.  Whatever his boys wanted.

Facing Jeremy, Timmy planted his hairless legs to either side of Steve with
his butt hovering right over his head.  "Okay, daddy, I want to eat my ass
just like you did last weekend."  With that said he reached behind himself,
pulled his ass cheeks wide apart and lowered himself onto his father's
face.  Readily recalling their late-night session, after the other two boys
had fallen off to sleep, Steve craned back his neck and eagerly anticipated
the approach of his youngest son's asshole.  The ripe scent emanating from
Timmy's boyhole caused his nostrils to flare; young boys knew so little
about proper cleaning.  As the tiny dart came closer Steve's tongue flopped
out of his mouth, at the ready. The little pucker hovered just an inch over
him, the hairless lips spasming and twitching with desire. Steve lapped at
the little ass mouth, running his tongue over the silky folds of boy flesh.
It tasted funky, it tasted raw and nasty.  But it was his boy's---and a
heck of a lot sweeter than that homeless wino Timmy had made him raunchily
rim a few months back.

"That's it, Daddy," Timmy wailed, grinding his twelve-year-old ass against
his father's face.  "Eat my shit hole!"

Jeremy watched, his mouth agape, as Steve's tongue lapped at Timmy's ass
like his kitty to a bowl of milk.  Timmy's five inch boycock was poking out
hard as steel from his almost-hairless groin and he was holding his nut sac
out of the way so Jeremy could get a clear view.  Seeing that Dad-tongue
licking through Timmy's trench enticed young Jeremy to ram his pricklet
even harder into Steve's still-tight man cunt.

Steve used the tip of his tongue to circle around Timmy's tart pucker, then
used it to probe between the delicate petals of his rosebud until he'd
drilled it inside the boy's stinky hole.  He dug deep inside his boy,
farther and father, until his tongue could go no further.  Steve's lips
were a wide oval, plastered against Timmy's exposed hole as he drove into
his son's dirty ass.  His cheeks hollowed as he sucked while he tongue
fucked, ingesting all the tasty juices from the boy's randy hole.

This dad/son action was way too much for Jeremy, who had never seen---let
alone considered---such depraved acts before.  With a cry and a shudder he
had his second dry orgasm up Mr. Anderson's awesome asshole.  Somehow Steve
managed to clench down with a vice grip on Jeremy's little dick, making his
release even more spectacular.  Jeremy couldn't help but notice the endless
stream of pre-cum oozing from the adult man's big cock head and pooling on
his taunt belly.  He prided himself in knowing that he'd attributed to
that.

Jeremy had barely come down from his cum when Timmy ripped his ass from his
father's greedy mouth, came around and rudely shoved the ten-year-old out
of the way.  "My turn to fuck some daddy ass," he announced and proceeded
to unceremoniously shove his dick into his father's wet ass.

Timmy fucked hard with forceful strokes in and out of his dad's hungry
butt.  The maniacal gleam in his eyes, and the savagery of his thrusts,
almost frightened the adult.  But Steve had seen it before.  He harbored a
paternal concern for his youngest son, who seemed to exhibit almost
sadistic tendencies.  Up until now his brothers had been able to contain
him, but Steve wondered what would happen when Timmy grew older and was an
equal match for the others.

As if on cue the folds of the tent opened again and the eldest son, Todd,
entered the small confines. Observing the action he made it over to the two
in three quick strides, grabbed Timmy by the shoulders and yanked him off
their father.

"What're you doin', you crazy little bastard," he barked.

Timmy picked himself up off the ground, brushed himself off and stroked his
dick.  "Fuck you, bro!"

Todd grabbed Timmy's discarded garments and tossed them at the youngster.
"Get dressed and get the fuck out there.  We have another winner."  Nodding
in Jeremy's direction he said, "You too.  You've had your time, kid."

"Fuck you, asshole!' Timmy said again but he nevertheless donned his
clothes and marched out of the tent with the ten-year-old.

Todd whistled low, lit up a cigarette and ran a hand through his dark,
medium-length hair.  Once again he'd managed to avert another potential
catastrophe engineered by his sick little bro.  The damned kid brother
could never seem to follow his older sibling's simplest instructions when
it came to their Dad-whore.  The way Todd figured, Dad was like some kind
of action figure to Timmy: a toy whose movements he controlled.  The more
perverse those actions, the more Timmy got off on it.  Secretly Todd had to
admit it was a turn on witnessing some of the degradations Timmy brought
upon their father, although Rex's dog cock knotted up Steve's macho asshole
was almost, almost, a bit too much.  Next thing they knew the kid would be
taking their father out to the stables in back of old man Connor's yard.
It wouldn't be beyond Timmy's curiosity to see if Dad could take one of
those stallion's horse cocks up his fuckhole.  In fact, he was surprised
the little freak hadn't already thought of it.  Give him time.

Todd placed the middle finger and thumb of his left hand between his lips
and whistled loudly, signaling the coast was clear for the next prize
winner.  Almost immediately the flaps of the tent flared open, slapped
against the sides of the tent and hung there momentarily to frame the
stud-mufffin standing in the opening.  Jack Krupa was the big, muscular son
of Viktor, the local ne'er do well from the seedier side of town.  Viktor
was an ace mechanic, the only one in the Edge, but his churlish disposition
and affectation for the local pub earned him a bad reputation.  Jack
appeared certain to be headed in his father's footsteps.  He was a surly
youth with a penchant for getting himself into trouble.  He was, what they
would have called in Todd's grandfather's days, a "greaser", his dark hair
slicked back from his forehead down to the nape of his neck.  Jack was good
looking in a Neanderthal kind of way.  A big boy, standing well over six
feet, he was all hard tight and lean muscle with tits that always pressed
through his nearly-threadbare t-shirts and a great big bulge standing out
from his tattered, tight jeans.  Despite his nature Jack was popular with
the local school girls, especially those with a fetish for rough trade.

His big biceps flexed as he crossed his arms over his strong chest, too
broad for a boy of only seventeen short years, and stood there on
widespread legs, one corner of his mouth set in a sneer as he openly
appraised his prey.  When he spoke his deeply masculine voice seemed to be
coming from somewhere in that expansive chest.

"Some shit, you selling your daddy's ass at the festival, Todd-skie."

Todd tried to appear unruffled by his fellow high school sports team mate.
"Daddy's just doin' his part for the festival."  Then, "Look, Jack, if you
don't wanna, I'll give you back your dollar."

"Dollar?  Fuck that!  I spent nearly eight before I ringed that bitch and I
mean to get me some pussy. You better hope your daddy can handle it."  With
that he pulled his t-shirt over his head, revealing his perfect pecs with
their painfully erect nips.  Quickly unzipping his jeans, he had them down
and over his black, calf-high work boots, along with his briefs, in record
time. Todd had seen Jackie naked in the gym showers on an almost daily
basis, but he was still awestruck by the physical perfection of the other
boy.  Jackie's big strong chest tapered down to a narrow waist which framed
awesome oblique and abdominal definition.  The bulge in his jeans wasn't
for show; the stud had a chunky stalk that looked to be about seven inches
soft.  Todd had never seen it hard, but he could just imagine what his
father was about to be taking up his already-primed asshole.

Steve noticed, too.  It wasn't as if he'd been leaning back atop the picnic
bench oblivious to things going on around him.  He knew of Jack Krupa.
Knew his father even better.  They'd gone to school together, although
Viktor had been one grade ahead of Steve.  That is, until he'd dropped out.
Viktor was a bully then, just as he was sure Jack was now.  Back when they
were kids Viktor looked pretty much like his son, all ripped muscle, until
the booze got hold of him.  Steve recalled being intimidated by Viktor.
Heck, all the kids were.  And right now, lying buck naked with a hard on
and a greased asshole, Steve felt just as intimidated by his well-hung son.

Jack read the fear in Mr. Anderson's eyes, could almost smell it emanating
from his hunky body.  Smiling sinisterly he advanced on the scene.  Deftly
stepping up onto the table he straddled Anderson's body, one foot to either
side of the man, and dropped down on one knee with his meaty prick hovering
close to the adult's face.  Roughly grabbing Steve by the back of the head
he brought him closer to his crotch and commanded, "Take it in your mouth.
Make me hard, dad-fag!"

Steve glanced over at Todd, who nodded encouragingly.  Confident it was
what his beloved son wanted he stuck out his tongue, swiped it over the
head of the flaccid member and circled it around the flange.  The dick
tasted nice and sweaty, kind of like the road crew foreman's Timmy had
brought home last summer after a hard day's work.  Opening wide he sucked
the whole dick into his mouth, straight down to the hairy root, and whipped
his tongue around the underside of it.  In almost no time at all he could
feel the rod growing harder, wider and longer until Jack had him
practically gagging on nine solid inches of tasty boymeat.  Fully erect
now, Jack held onto the back of Steve's head with both big hands and began
forcefully fucking the man's face with long, hard strokes.  On the
sidelines, Todd became so aroused by the sight of the hooligan plowing his
dad's face that he fumbled with the zipper of his shorts, pulled out his
hard dick and began stroking it.

"Take that cock, you fuckin' dad-fag!  That's it, right down your fuckin'
throat!" the boy snarled.  "Fuck, Todd-skie, you never tole me your daddy
was so good at suckin' cock!  If I'da knowed me and my boys would've been
spendin' lotsa time at your place."

The idea of Jack and his buds gang-banging his father had Todd's cock
leaking pre-cum.  "A-Anytime, Jack.  You know where he lives."

"Yeah, but first I gotta find out how well he takes a fuck.  The bitches I
know, they don't like a hard, mean fuck.  You gonna give me a nice fuck,
huh, dad-fag?"  Steve's response was garbled by the big dick sawing down
his throat.  Jack pulled back and taunted him, "Tell me, dad-fag.  Tell me
what you want."

Steve swallowed hard and replied hoarsely, "Fuck me."

Jack grinned widely and scooted down between the spread of Steve's thighs.
He glanced at Steve's winking asshole, wet and primed for a hard fucking.
Taking his fat meat in calloused palm he aimed the head at the slick pucker
and rammed his cock right into the pink hole.  Steve winced at the forceful
penetration but his manhole opened to accept the teenager's dick.  With one
vicious thrust Jack had buried all nine inches deep inside Mr. Anderson's
nicely tight butt hole.

"Oh, fuck yeah!" Jack groaned, tossing back his greasy head and grinding
his dick around in Steve's colon. "I love a tight pussy!  This is gonna be
sweet!"

With a mean scowl on his face that frightened Todd Jack completely pulled
out, but before Steve's cunt lips had a chance to regroup he shoved it
right back in to the balls.  With a relentless force Jack proceeded to fuck
Steve with deep, hard and vicious strokes.  His tight ass was a whir rising
and falling as he plundered the inner depths of the handsome father.  His
big cock went to the root with every battering thrust, plunging at a
breakneck speed into Anderson's quivering guts.  His muscle-bound frame
quickly became bathed in perspiration, droplets spraying from his forehead
onto Steve's face and into his panting mouth.

Steve had been fucked by his sons so many times over the past few years
that his ass-pussy instinctively knew how to accommodate them.  But, with
the possible exception of Todd's maturing rod and the strangers Timmy
brought home, it was a rare occasion when he was presented with a real
challenge.  Although he didn't need to tighten up around Jack's big boy in
order for them both to achieve maximum pleasure, he did anyway.  Jack's
teen prod twisted through his guts as he rode him at breakneck speed,
fucking him deeper than any of the other game of chance winners had thus
far.  The scowling boy's hips pounded into him relentlessly, his cum-laden
balls smacking against Steve's adult butt with each gut-wrenching thrust.
Steve felt so full of big, hard teen cock, the thick member battering his
prostate and causing waves of delicious sensations to wash over his hunky
body.  He hardly realized that his daddy dick was standing up painfully
hard, had turned an angry shade of purple and appeared near ready to
explode.

Todd stood only a few feet away, slack-jawed and gawking with wonder at the
way Jack Krupa was raping his daddy's cunt.  Absently he spit into the palm
of his hand and lubed his cock for continued stroking, keeping eye contact
with the hot action in front of him.  He skinned his seven inches,
remembering how good it felt when he was the one sticking it to his dad.
But he'd never fucked him like this!  Jack was a lean, mean fucking
machine.  Todd made mental notes as he soon fell into tandem with Jack,
beating his meat along with Jack's fevered fucking.  Already he anticipated
his next encounter with Steve.  His dad really seemed to be getting off on
the way Jack was throwing it to him.  Well, Todd would soon prove to his
daddy that he could be every bit the fuck-monster Jack Krupa was.

Repeatedly, Jack bludgeoned Steve with his man-sized scepter.  Jackie had
fucked a lot of pussy in his few short years but nothing compared to
shoving his dick up a tight, tiny asshole.  All the bitches he'd tried
fought him like the devil, then went away crying when he'd gotten a piece
of ass.  But even for those few seconds he'd managed to breach their shit
hole it had felt so incredibly tight!  Unlike those bubble-heads
Mr. Anderson wasn't fighting him at all.  Appeared to even be getting into
it.  It didn't even faze Jack that it was another dude's ass he was
plowing.  An asshole was an asshole.  And this one was so fuckin' tight,
so' fuckin' hot that he just wanted to fuck through it as hard as he could.
A twisted smile came to his face every time he felt Steve's channel grip
around him, making the fucking even tighter than before.  Anderson really
wanted it.  And Jack was more than willing to give him everything he
wanted.  The daddy might have thought he'd been fucked before, but he
hadn't met Jack Krupa.

Steve was panting heavily now and both boys could easily read that he was
gone.  All the muscles in his big body seemed to tighten up and then, with
a bellow loud enough to be heard throughout the festival, his big dick shot
like the opening festivities' cannon, shooting unprecedented amounts of
man-cum up into the air.  He heaved and thrashed on the table, desperately
trying to extricate himself from the teen dick torturing his prostate and
making him cum again and again.  But Jack, with spent daddy-goo running
down his chest, held him by the hips and fucked him through orgasm.  It
felt so fuckin' good with Mr. Anderson's ass twitching and writhing about
on his big, throbbing stud prick.  He'd never felt anything quite like it
before!

Todd groaned, his mouth hanging open and his eyelids tightly closed.  His
trim body arced, bowed at the spine, as he furiously fisted his teen meat,
his cum level gone from simmer to the boiling point.

"Git over here and shoot it on his face!" Jack ordered.  And Todd obeyed.
On shaky legs he stepped up close to his father, ready to drop his seed all
over his parent's handsome face. But, just at the precise moment that Todd
let out a little yell, Steve turned his face to the side and homed in on
his son's dick.  Sucking over half of it into his mouth he groaned as the
first splash of warm son seed washed over his tongue.  "Ohhh,
yeaahhhhhhhhhhhh!" Todd groaned as he unloaded himself into his hot
father's warm mouth.  Steve slurped noisily on the teen's spurting prick
and gulped down every last drop of heady jizz until his boy had been
thoroughly milked.

"Sick fucker!" Jack growled, pounding into Steve now with slower but
spearing strokes.  He fuckin' loved drilling Anderson's ass, loved cramming
every inch of his hard on right up that daddy cunt.  It made his stud-prick
throb with an undescribable pleasure.  He knew now that his dick was made
for fucking ass, hot man ass, and this wouldn't be the last time he'd get a
piece of the Anderson sire.  In fact, he might be a nightly dinner guest at
their household.

Jack felt the pressure building inside.  His heart was racing in his chest.
His balls were tight and heavy, almost painful.  He pumped with long,
deliberate strokes, unable to defy the inevitable.  His big muscular body
was shaking all over but, greedily, he refused to give up on shoving his
dick up that ass just one more time.  Then another.  His head tossed, his
teeth gnashed.  Steve clamped his ass down extra against his prick and Jack
felt as though he'd been blasted with an electric charge.  His eyes bugged
and, with a deep muffled cry, he blasted his teen seed into Steve's
clamping ass.  His orgasm was a violent one, shooting a torrent of young
spunk from the gaping lips of his cockhead into the clutching depths of
Steve Anderson.  He didn't think it would ever cease.  He kept cumming and
cumming, his strength ebbing away along with his sex.  His muscular body
slumped over Steve, dick still buried in the awesome fuckhole, and he
panted heavily into the man's ear.

"C'mon bro!"  The voice was Timmy's, coming fro the entrance to the tent.
"We got two other winners.  Jimmy and Jonny Caldwell."

"The twins from over in Willow Run?"  Todd inquired.  "What're they, like
ten now?"

Timmy smiled devilishly.  "Nine and a half.  An' they're gonna fuck daddy
both at the same time!"  Then, as an afterthought, "Hey, no fuckin' fair!
You give me shit about playing with daddy and looks like you did the same!"

"Shut the fuck up and get outa here.  We're almost done," Todd ordered.
Timmy flashed him a chunky middle finger and left them alone.

Jack was regaining his composure and coming up off Steve.  His softening
rod slid out of the older man with an audible squelch, followed by an ooze
of Krupa cum.  He casually donned his clothes, all the while addressing the
Anderson boy.  "Your dad's a real good fuck, Todd-skie.  Maybe the best
piece of ass I ever had.  Must keep you boys real happy every night.  An'
don't you worry 'bout when you go back to the Run and stay with your mama.
I'm gonna make sure your daddy keeps real busy."

Todd shuddered, thinking about Jack nailing his father like that every
night.  But Steve, propped up on the table on one elbow, had a satisifed
smile on his matinee-idol-face as he casually fingered his drippping cunt
in front of them.

"You trained yourself a real good dog," Jack snorted before adjusting his
bulge, turning on his heel and leaving the enclosure.  Todd watched him go
and then turned to his father.

"Y-you okay, daddy?" he asked, surprised as his concern for the dad-fuck.

Steve paused in licking Todd's cum from his fingers to smile tenderly at
the boy.  "I'm okay, Todd.  I love you, son."

"Yeah," Todd mumbled nervously.  "Love you too, daddy."  And then he was
gone.  And Tommy was herding in the horned-up Caldwell brothers, who fell
on Steve like hawks to a dove.

On and on the procession went, with young boys and teens aged nine to
seventeen getting the ultimate reward for ringing a bottle.  By the time
darkness had fallen and the midway lights were shining, no less than thirty
visitors had paid a call to the interior of the popular tent.  Then, at the
stroke of ten, Todd changed the game's age limit.  A crudely drawn sign now
proclaimed, "Over 18 only!"  The younger crowd dissipated, off to sweet
dreams in their bedroooms, while the men took over.  Judge Larson,
Constable Harrison, Pops Hadley, Superintendant Sullivan and Ben Hadley,
Jeremy's father, all tried their hand at winning the prize.

But it was Viktor Krupa, father of Jack and not yet three sheets to the
wind, who managed to score the first ring.  Rubbing his greasy hands
together expectantly, Viktor didn't even wait for an escort, but barged
right on into the domain of sexual pleasures......