Date: Sun, 13 Jun 2010 17:14:38 -0700
From: Chubby Slut <chubbyslutforyouruse@gmail.com>
Subject: Fucked by a Family Part 1

It was a quiet night, at least until I rolled into the campground.
Crickets could be heard by everyone, and the lulling swash of water
from the Yakima river covered all other noise that campers might
normally make during the course of the night: getting up to piss,
coughing due to the moisture, or sneezing from the pollen.  All was
quiet at the KOA in Ellensburg.

It had been a great night so far, a performance by some very talented
drag queens followed by a small but boisterous party at a friend's
dormitory room.  I wasn't staying on campus, having reached an age
where I felt like crashing on someone's dormitory floor or flopping on
their couch was beneath me.  Besides, I wasn't even in college
anymore, having graduated the previous Spring with an English degree
from a rival school. I was twenty-four years old, on the verge of
twenty-five, and there wasn't any way in the world I was going to stay
at someone's place with whom I wasn't sleeping.  I was just visiting
friends and figured, as long as I was staying in town, why not get out
my old pup tent and sleeping bag and "rough it" in the safest way
possible.  Enter my reservation at the KOA.

I rolled into the campground at about two, careful to turn off the
headlights once I got past the registration office.  Still, my Taurus
is an older car, a '92, and it doesn't run as well as it should and is
a very loud machine.  I made my way as quickly as caution would allow
toward my tent site at the far end of the campground and was surprised
to see another tent set up in the site next to mine.  There were very
few campers on the grounds, it being a Wednesday night and Ellensburg
not being a premier destination for anyone without some sort of
connection to the community.  When I had checked in, the clerk told me
that there would likely not be anyone staying anywhere near me if I
chose the far end of the campground.  Still, there was someone right
next to me, so I tried my best to be quiet as I pulled into the
parking space directly in front of my tent and turned off my ignition.
As I eased the door open it squealed sharply, as it has a tendency to
do.  Despite my best efforts with WD-40, I've never been able to get
it open or closed without that shriek crying out and causing all
nearby dogs to keen and yelp in surprise.  Which is exactly what
happened with the dog in the neighboring campsite.

The barking took me by such surprise that I screamed out quickly
before clamping my hands over my mouth, a cry that cracked in mid-peal
from my already-sore throat.  I've never liked dogs much, especially
big ones, and by the woof I heard I could tell that this one would
probably cause me to shit myself if I had to come face-to-face with
it.  "Shut up!" came a cry from the tent, and I could hear motion
inside, someone turning over.  I couldn't tell whether the direction
was for the dog or for myself, so, figuring I'd be polite, I hollered,
"Sorry," in a weak whisper, hoping to save what little of my voice
hadn't been spent in yelling out to encourage the drag queens on
stage.

I made my way across the grounds to the tent I'd had the foresight to
put up when I'd rolled into town that afternoon.  I'm not sure I could
have managed to do it at night.  Don't get me wrong, my eyesight is
good and everything, but I had only the moon to illuminate things,
having forgotten my flashlight at home, and I'm not the most
coordinated person in the world.  Which sort of explains how I tripped
over a log that I swear hadn't been there when I set up the campsite
that afternoon and fell to the ground with a crash and a humph of air
rushing out of my lungs.  I lay there for a second, trying desperately
to inhale, my lungs burning.  Eventually I drew in a breath and
coughed, the fire in my lungs persistent but diminishing.  "Shut up!"
the guy from the next tent hollered again, and there was no mistaking
this time to whom he was speaking. Again, I yelled my apologies,
refraining from explaining my noisiness and opting for making as
little noise as possible while honoring his request.

I slipped off my sneakers and then my socks, placing the appropriate
sock in each shoe and then laying them on the picnic table next to my
tent. Next I took off my shirt, which was pretty soaked through with
sweat from the dancing and grinding going on at the show, followed by
the heat of the small room where the party was held, and folded it in
half, laying it over the shoes.  I unbuckled the belt of my jeans,
sliding them and my briefs off in one motion, folding the jeans into
thirds with the underwear still inside.  I've worn briefs since as
long as I can remember, and used to get teased about it in high
school, but there's something about the way a good brief cradles your
balls, almost like someone is always handling them for you.  The ones
I wore that night were lime green with white piping, and I loved the
way they made my package look once I had my jeans off.

The wind tickled my hairless scrotum as I made my way toward the tent,
seeming to touch them ever-so-lightly, causing my cock to plump up a
bit.  I bent over to unzip the opening, letting the cool breeze that
had been caressing my balls flow through my spread thighs and whisper
across my asshole.  As I was starting to climb in, I realized I had to
piss.  It's been a recurring problem throughout my life that I've got
the smallest bladder among any group of which I am a member.  I
thought I'd emptied my bladder at the party, and hadn't had anything
to drink for the last hour of it, but nonetheless here was the
pressure demanding immediate release.

The bathrooms at the campground are all the way at the entrance,
probably only 1000 feet away, but farther than I like to wander in the
nude.  Anyway, they were quite well lit, and I didn't feel it would be
appropriate to expose my body to anyone who happened to be awake at
that hour to use the john.  There was never any question about whether
I was going to put my clothes back on; way too much work.  The river
was near and convenient, so I made my way over the some bushes by the
river and let loose my stream, a hard piss that splattered on the
leaves, nearly driving a hole through some of the weaker ones, newly
formed in the Spring.

As the last of the piss left my body, I let out a moan and looked down
at the dribbles coming from my cock.  Smiling to myself, I gave the
old boy a couple of jerks and got him to come to life.  I don't have
the biggest cock in the world, but I've got a good five and a half
inches that's plump and, I've been told, quite succulent.  I used to
try to give myself head when I was younger, but I was either not
flexible enough or not long enough, or probably both, because I
couldn't even get close.  Still, trying had been fun, and I wasn't
ashamed of my body in the slightest.  10 hours a week at the gym had
left me with a body that wasn't exactly ripped, but which at 160 lbs
was definitely muscled, with only a thin layer of fat over it.
Honestly, I thought the fat added a softness to my physique that I
found attractive, and I've never had any complaints from the boys I've
seen about it either.  Shaking it one last time for good measure, I
decided it was time to get to bed.

Having emptied my bladder, I wove my way back to the tent and laid
down on my sleeping bag, not bothering to climb inside.  The bag was
an old one, down feathers with a flannel lining that was way too warm
for a night in June in Ellensburg, WA.  I had brought it not to sleep
in, but rather to sleep on, as it provided a nice cushion for the
otherwise hard ground.  I zipped up my tent and lay down on my
stomach, hugging the pillow I had brought from home.  I don't know
about you, but a good pillow is absolutely indispensable for my
getting a good night's rest.

As I lay there, my mind drifted back to the events of the night, to
the queens lip-synching their hearts out, to the boys grinding their
crotches against one another, to the guy who had come up behind me
while I was dancing and grabbed my nipples through my shirt and
whispered in my ear, "How are you enjoying the show, baby?"  I had
reciprocated by pushing my ass into his crotch and grinding it there,
grabbing hold of his fingers which had claimed my nipples and twisted
them in opposite directions.  I felt his hard cock through his
basketball shorts, even through the denim of my jeans, and turned my
face around, closed my eyes, and kissed him full on the mouth, our
tongues meeting and warring over control of each other's oral space.

Unfortunately, the closest we came to actual intimate contact was
during a performance of "I Will Survive," when we were dancing close,
face-to-face, and his hand snuck down to my zipper, pulled it down,
and swept into my pants in about three seconds.  He got a good grasp
of the rock-hard bulge in my briefs and then pulled me in for another
passionate kiss, during which time my hand reached into the band of
his basketball shorts.  I was unsurprised that he wasn't wearing any
underwear, as many of my friends insist that commando is the only way
to go, plus there had seemed very little barrier between it and my ass
when he had ground it into me.  But it seemed a bold move when wearing
something which would so obviously show off whether the wearer had a
hard on or not.  My fingers twined through his pubic hair, bypassing
his hard cock completely, and cupping his eggs into my hand, then
twirling them around like Chinese Ben-Wa balls.  This went on for only
a couple of seconds before his face contorted into the primal face for
pleasure and pain and I ended up with a sticky mess all over my
forearm which necessitated a trip to the bathroom to clean up.

I laughed softly into the pillow, thinking about the boy's stammered
apologies, how he had followed me into the bathroom, about how he had
written his number on my arm after I had washed it off, insisting that
this sort of thing never happened to him, it was just that I was so
hot and he was so worked up by the crowd.  He's included his name in
the apologies, and wrote it down next to his number, "Chris."  Who
knows?  It might even be true.  I wondered whether the boy had
realized that he'd written his number right where his cum had been
washed off a few moments prior.  I wondered whether I trusted him
enough to give him a call the next day and see about getting together
for a rematch.  He'd been all kinds of hot, dark features with bright
blue eyes that had pierced me every time I met them, with an older
face, but obviously still in his early twenties.  Still, I was
supposed to be seeing friends, not arranging hookups.

Thinking about his body and cock gave a second life to the bone I'd
been sporting earlier in the night, now pressed uncomfortably into the
sleeping bag, no longer such a wonderful cushion against the hard,
unforgiving ground.  I rolled off my stomach and began masturbating
with my right hand.  I've always been ambidextrous, and in no way more
so that in my masturbation habits.  I'd long ago figured out a good
routine for which hand would do what and when, and tonight it was old
Righty's turn for a dry masturbation, my thumb on the "top" side of my
thick dick while my fingers grazed the underside close to the head.
Thinking back on the boy, on his fleshy five inches, I couldn't help
but moan out a little, adding to the usual noise of skin on skin and
the shallow breathing which always accompanied self-pleasure for me.
I reached my left hand up toward my mouth, slipping my index and
middle finger inside, getting them sloppy with my saliva.  I moved my
slippery fingers down my chest, past my abs and genitals, sliding them
along my peritoneum until they slipped between the hemispheres of my
ass.  Carefully, I probed by hole, the wetness of my saliva felling
cool against my pucker as my legs spread apart in anticipation of
being penetrated.  I imagined what Chris and I might be doing even
this very moment if he had not accidentally come, and that thought
opened me up completely.  My index and middle fingers popped
simultaneously into my ass, sliding up and past the sphincter muscle
with ease.

My moaning must have escalated past the low murmuring I imagined,
because I was nearly done when I heard the singular sound of an
unzipping tent beside me and a baritone bellow, "For fuck's sake, shut
up!"

I had completely forgotten about the guy next door in all of my
reminiscing about the night.  I heard the slapping of bare feet
against packed dirt, walking so fast it could almost have been
considered a run, coming toward my tent.  I saw the beam of a
flashlight aim at my tent's flap, and heard the guy curse, then find
the zipper.  A second later my tent's flap was open and a hulking dark
form was standing above me.  I could barely see him due to the
brightness of the flashlight, which must have had a few LEDs in it
because it seemed brighter than the sun.  I looked down at the light
bathing my lithe body, down at my still-hard cock and at my hand which
was still wrapped around it, with my fingers still planted two
knuckles deep within my asshole.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" the man shouted at me.  I was too
terrified to speak, so it came as no surprise when he repeated the
question more loudly.  I thanked whatever gods may be that there were
no other campers too near us, and that the river was likely covering
most of the noise.

"Please, sir, there's no need to shout."

"Like Hell there isn't!  You've been doing nothing but making noise
since you got here half an hour ago.  My boy and I are trying to
sleep, and here you are moaning like a bitch in heat and jerking off
your cock at 2:30 in the morning." I heard some rustling from the tent
next door and took it to be the man's son coming out to follow his
father.  Thankfully, by now the man had lowered his voice a bit, no
longer shouting so much as talking sternly.

"I'm sorry my noise was keeping you up, sir."  My cock was starting to
deflate somewhat and I removed my hand from it, simultaneously
plopping my fingers from out of my chute.  Wiping my right hand on the
sleeping bag, it being pretty covered in precum by this point, I
raised my hand up and offered my name as a sign of peace. "I'm Nick,
sir."

"Nick, huh?  Name's Jessie, and my boy is Carlos.  He's my step-son.
What got you so hot and bothered you couldn't keep your hand off you
penis at this ungodly hour?"  I lowered my hand back down to my bag
when it became apparent that he had no intention of shaking it.
Jessie thankfully moved the light off of me and onto the tent itself,
reflecting light back on him and his son.  I could see the man was
nearly nude now, wearing only a pair of plaid boxers, the kind without
the button in the front that you can buy at Wal-Mart in a variety pack
of five for four dollars.  His chest was ripped and covered in hair
that extended into a thick treasure trail leading to the band of his
boxers. His face was probably clean-shaven the previous morning, but
now there was plenty of stubble on it, giving him a slightly menacing
look.  His step-son was more dimly lit, standing back somewhat, over
by where my clothes were arranged on the picnic table, but I could see
clearly that he wasn't wearing a shirt, but was wearing a pair of
cutoff sweatpants that ended somewhere around mid-calf.

"Oh, just this guy I was dancing with at a party who couldn't deliver
the goods I was looking for." I knew this was the wrong thing to say
as soon as the words left my mouth, but I couldn't put them back in
there.  Jessie's flashlight swung around to shine on Carlos, who
covered his eyes and told his dad to not shine it in his eyes.  The
boy's voice was higher than his step-father's, but not by much, and
was considerably deeper than my own.  I don't have an unnaturally high
voice or anything, but it's more a tenor and their voices were
definitely bass.  He spoke with a trace of an accent that implied that
his mother was native to some Central American country.

Now illuminated, I could see that the boy way younger than myself, at
least five years, though clearly he had gone through puberty.  His
mocha-brown chest was slightly hairy, forming a kind of "bird in
flight" pattern flowing from his sternum out past his dark brown
nipples crinkled and hard in the cold air.  His arms were
well-muscled, and his chest was well-defined.  From what I could see
of his calves, they looked to be in pretty good shape, too.

The flashlight came back around to me, shining in my face, then slowly
working down my body until it ended on my hairless cock and balls.
The guys I've slept with have always preferred the shorn look, and I'm
willing to appease the masses, but right now with my cock no longer
hard and these two men staring at me I felt like a little boy and knew
I looked the part.  Having stared at his son, my cock was a little
plumper than it had been, but it still looked like a prepubescent
boy's without any hair, at least to these two.  I hoped my voice
wouldn't crack like it had when I cried out earlier.

Jessie flashed the flashlight back at his tent, illuminating the area
again, and said, "Carlos, go grab the lantern from the truck."

"Really, there's no need for the lantern," I said, hoping to defuse
the situation, but Carlos was already on his way to the truck, and he
had the door opened by the time I said, "Why don't we all just go back
to bed?"

"And leave that cock of your unmilked?  Or were you planning on
jerking it off with your fingers in your ass and moaning some more
before you go to bed?"  A sudden light came on from the truck and I
saw that the lantern Carlos had wasn't a gas lantern, but one of those
Coleman ones that uses mirrors and light bulbs.  Jessie switched off
the flashlight, tossing it in the direction of his tent, and I noticed
that the tip of his penis was poking out of the fly of his boxers as
he did so.  He was circumcised, it seemed, and from the tip it looked
like he had a pretty thick cock.  I couldn't get a good gauge on its
length, of course, but the bulge in the boxers was considerable.

"Really it's fine," I said. "I don't have to masturbate tonight.  We
can all just go back to sleep."  With that I reached up and grabbed
the zipper of my tent and started to pull it shut.  Jessie's hand
darted out and caught my wrist, stopping its motion.  His fingers
flexed on my wrist sending a short, shooting pain up my arm and I
whimpered a little.  I hadn't noticed it before, but Jessie was quite
a bit taller than myself, making his more heavily muscled arms and
torso a whole lot more efficient.  There was nary a trace of fat on
his physique and he probably outweighed me by a good fifty pounds or
so.

Using my own arm, Jessie pulled the zipper back, opening the flap of
the tent. "No, no," he said calmly, "you need to get your needs met,
obviously.  And since you couldn't get your little boyfriend to do it
for you, Carlos and I will be happy to help you out."  With that he
pulled upward on my arm, half-dragging, half-lifting me out of the
tent.  I looked down and saw now that almost his whole cock was poking
out from his boxers, probably seven inches long and thicker even than
it had seemed to be in its plump state.  I stumbled and my bare chest
slapped into his, his cocky poking right into my bellybutton.  Using
his other arm, he reached to my back and pulled me in tighter to his
cock would grind into my abs.

"You and Carlos?  Isn't he a little young?"  I wasn't sure his age,
and as a result of growing older I was having more and more trouble
telling teenagers apart.  He could well have been an early-developing
fourteen for all I knew, though he looked more like he was 19.  He had
heavy muscles just like his step-father, which I took to mean they
probably had a gym at home rather than a membership, and that the
likely worked out together.  Who know, maybe that's how they bonded
well enough that fucking a complete stranger on a camping trip
wouldn't weird the kid out.  It became obvious that it didn't weird
him out when I felt his presence behind me, gyrating his cock against
my ass in much the same way that Chris had earlier, making me feel the
boner beneath his cutoff shorts.  Carlos was shorter than I was, so he
had a good angle on my ass with his cock, and I could feel the tip of
it thrusting slowly up and down my crack.  His father's hands reached
to my ass, pulling the globes apart, exposing my hole once more to the
cool breeze.  Carlos, however, was in no mood for waiting.  He kicked
my right ankle on the inside, causing my legs to part about a foot,
and the return to his thrusting slowly.  His cock was still trapped in
his pants, and honestly it didn't feel like it was too large, but if
he started fucking me now without no more lube than my by-now-dry
saliva it was going to hurt.  A lot.

"Don't worry about Carlos; he's a senior this year, about to graduate
high school.  He's legal."  Whether this kid was legal was really the
least of my worries, as I was pretty sure I was about to be fucked by
these to whether I objected to it or not.  Nonetheless, it was
comforting knowing that I wouldn't be in any way culpable if this did
happen.  I wondered if it were possible to be charged with statutory
rape when the victim was himself raped by the under-aged party?  I
doubted it, but I was glad I wouldn't have to worry about it.

Carlos's boner suddenly stopped its thrusting, and I hoped that he'd
cum accidentally like Chris had, but I doubted it.  Meanwhile, Jessie
pushed me backward a little, releasing my arm.  He cradled my chin
instead, tipping my head back, and, as I was about to speak, beg them
not to do this to me, his mouth hit mine, fully open, his tongue
darting inside, groping against my limp tongue for purchase.  His hand
traveled from my back to my chest, trailing downward to my cock, which
he took in his hand.  Betraying me, as usual, my dick responded to his
advances, becoming hard within three tugs, causing Jessie to chortle
while still deeply tonguing me.  He pulled away and smiled. "Someone's
playing hard to get, but really likes this," he called over my
shoulder to wherever Carlos was.  I turned my head around to look for
Carlos, and saw that he was digging through the tent he and his father
shared.

"Like that's a surprise.  Fucking fags love it when real men offer
them their straight cocks for service."

"That's true, son," Jessie replied.  "Speaking of which, get on your
knees, faggot."  I was too stunned to properly process the words that
were being spoken to me.  Sure, I was gay, but I've never been called
faggot before, hard as it might be to believe.  I'm pretty neutral in
terms of homosexual affectations, and usually I have to hit on someone
or tell them outright that I like dick.  Unfortunately, I'd
accidentally done exactly the latter with these two, not that finding
me with my own fingers in my ass wasn't enough of a giveaway, and they
were going to take full advantage of that.  Noticing that I hadn't
responded yet, Jessie's hand flew up, smacking me square in the right
side of my face with its back.  "I said kneel, faggot!"

Knowing there wasn't much else to be done, I knelt down, mentally
preparing a speech which might get me out of this situation, but
knowing in my head that there was really no way out.  I wasn't given a
chance even to speak before Jessie's cock hit my lips.  He didn't even
say anything, no orders, he just pushed against my lips with his cock
and then, when my mouth didn't open, he grabbed the back of my head
and exerted more force.  My mouth flew open at the shock and Jessie's
thick cock struck the back of my throat a second later, not bothering
to stop, it slid in past my uvula and down into my throat.  He must
have been at least seven and a half inches long, and his cock when
hard was thicker than my own.  Still, knowing what I had to do, I
tried to pull my head back and give him a proper blowjob.  Apparently
that wasn't what he was looking for.

Jessie kept his hand on my head as he moved his hips back, then
slammed them back into position, his cock sliding down my throat
again, causing me this time to gag.  His hairy balls hit my chin
solidly, connecting with my hairless face in a soft fwap noise.  Again
and again he pulled back and forth with his hips, shoving his cock in
and out of my throat, but never leaving my mouth.  I was trying
desperately not to bite down on his dick, as I could tell that Jessie
wasn't the type of guy who would take that well, even if it were
accidental.

"Found it!" I heard Carlos call from over by there tent, and finally
Jessie's cock plopped out of my mouth.  He started moving the
saliva-soaked member all across my face, pushing it into my eye socket
at one point.

"That's great, son.  Now get your ass over here."  Jessie stopped
moving his cock around my face as he turned his attention toward me.
"Now that couldn't have been pleasant for you," he said, but then
looked down.  My cock was still standing at high attention.  "Or maybe
you did like it, you fucking queer.  Either way, that's the kind of
treatment you're going to get from me when you don't do what I tell
you to do.  Do we understand each other?"

"Yes, Jessie, we understand each other."

"No, we don't.  Not yet.  Names are for real men to use with one
another.  You're a faggot, and therefore not a real man, so you will
call both me and Carlos `sir' or `master.'  Am I understood?"

"Yes, sir," I said, cringing on the inside as I said it.

"Good.  Now, get up off the ground, boy."  Slowly, I rose from my
position on the ground.  "You will be called either `faggot' or `boy.'
If you are really, really good, I might even use your real name, but
don't count on it."

"No, sir."

"Good boy.  Now, Carlos's dick hasn't gotten sucked yet, and that
seems a shame.  After all, he's the one that found the lotion in the
tent that we use for jerking off, which will be the lube you get for
tonight.  You should thank him for being such a caring master that he
didn't just fuck you dry like you deserve."

"Thank you, master," I said, hoping that I was avoiding all of the
sarcasm that my voice wanted to put into the phrase.  Jesus, this was
like a scene out of a bad porn film or something.  How the fuck was I
going to get out of this?  Obviously, by this point, I wasn't.

I walked slowly over to Carlos, and placed my hand on his pecs.  He
was surprisingly hairy for a guy as young as he was, and that
intimidated me.  I have never had hair on my chest, and, as a result
of regular shaving, I didn't have any under my arms or on my crotch or
ass either.  I ran my hand down the boy's torso, working my hand
beneath the cutoffs and into the boxers below them.  Grasping his
cock, I jerked it a few times, plumping it up.  I could feel the thick
nest of hair surrounding the thing.  It wasn't nearly as thick as his
father's or my cock, but it wasn't terribly thin either.  Length-wise,
he seemed slightly smaller than his I was, probably five or five and a
half inches.

I was about to drop to my knees again, when I felt Jessie's presence
behind me.  He took a firm grip on my hip with one hand and bent me
over with the other.  I used my hands to pull down Carlos's pants,
revealing his smaller, uncircumcised cock in the lamplight.  Slowly, I
moved my mouth down on it, wondering how many blow jobs the kid had
had before.  Probably not many, I thought.  He was only eighteen,
after all, and I hadn't started blowing guys until my junior year of
high school.  He was probably even less experienced, unless his dad
had managed to facilitate something, which was within the realm of
possibility, of course, considering the current situation.  I wondered
how many times before they had acted out a scene like this one
together, or whether this was Carlos's first time.

Carlos's cock was warm in my mouth, and I could feel his heartbeat
with every jerk of his cock up and down on my tongue.  I used my hand
to slide his foreskin all the way back and then licked the tip of his
cock.  As I was doing this, Jessie had situated himself behind me,
kneeling on the ground for some reason.  Suddenly I felt a squirt of
cold liquid hit my exposed asshole and I cried out ineffectually with
Carlos's cock in my mouth.  It came out as more of a groan, which must
have been how Jessie interpreted it because he said conspiratorially
to Carlos, "See?  The bitch can't wait to get it inside her."  Carlos
laughed at this, his cock bobbing up and down with the heaves of his
chest.

I reached up with one hand to Carlos's nipples as I was sucking him
off.  With him being the size he was, even if he started face-fucking
me á la Jessie he wouldn't reach the back of my throat.  I've got an
impressively big mouth, both physically and socially, and it's
garnered me many boons over the years, not the least of which is my
ability to give a really good blowjob to most guys without having to
fight my gag reflex the whole time.  This allows me to spend more of
my energy on my own pleasure, which I began doing, moving my hand to
my cock and starting playing with the tip with my thumb, index, and
middle finger, sliding the precum that was embarrassingly leaking from
it down to the shaft.

Just then Jessie's hand moved to my ass, and his fingers clamped down
inside my crack.  I heard a squirt and felt the coolness of the lotion
hit my asshole.  With his middle finger he started massaging the
lotion Carlos had fetched from the truck into my waiting chute.  I
pushed back a bit as his finger wormed up inside me, moaning slightly,
and flicking my tongue excitedly on the underside of Carlos's cock.
The kid was having the time of his life, and with his left hand he
reached down and grabbed a hunk of my hair and pulled on it hard.  I
cried out on his cock, letting it slip from my mouth, and looked up at
him.  His face was twisted into a sadistic mask, and, using my hair as
a puppeteer might, he moved my head back toward his slippery cock.
His foreskin, I noticed, still covered most of the head of his cock
when he was hard, so I started back on his cock by using my lips to
pull back on his foreskin, being careful not to bite into it with my
teeth, but giving it a good tug.  He moaned at this, his five and a
half inches obviously near its bursting point.

Jessie decided that he'd had enough of fucking me with only his middle
finger, so he added another to the mix, not bothering to slowly insert
it like he had with the first one, jamming inside me all at once.  I
cried out a bit, squealing almost, a high-pitched whine escaping from
my throat.  Jessie laughed at this, and began moving his digits in and
out of my hole.  "You like that bitch, don't you?"

I swung my head off of Carlos's cock once again, replying, "Yes, sir,
I like it a lot.  I can't wait to get yours and Carlos's cocks inside
me, sir."  I went immediately back to the cock before me, not wanting
to be accused of slacking on my duties and enduring another
face-fucking.

"Hear that, boy?  He can't wait for your cock and cum." Jessie's
fingers were by now moving with ease in and out of my sphincter, and
it was not surprise when he added his ring finger to the mix.  I cool
feel the odd coolness of his wedding band as it passed by my pucker,
which was by this point somewhat reluctant to stretch any farther.
Still, I knew that it would have to before the night was over, as
Jessie's cock, if it were going inside me, was thicker still than even
three of his fingers.  Hell, it was thicker than all four, but I had
no doubts about its ultimate destination for the evening.

As I endured the assault on my ass from Jessie's left hand, his right
hand had snaked its way between my legs, caressing my balls, gently at
first, but then with greater passion and violence until, by the time
he got his pinky inside my ass alongside his other fingers, he was
basically just twisting them there.  The weird thing was that my cock
had remained rock hard the whole time, and precum was flowing more
freely now than it had ever done before.  I was frantically jerking my
meat the whole time now, jerking my cock with my left hand and leaning
against Carlos's hips with my right.

"I think the bitch is about ready, boy.  You wanna go first and break her in?"

I looked up as Carlos grinned a Cheshire grim, a glint in his eyes
like diamond.  "Sure thing, dad.  Put him up on the picnic table."

And with that I was lifted off the ground and heaved over Jessie's
shoulder.  He walked over to the table where I had neatly arranged my
clothes and grabbed my jeans with his free hand, laying them out
across the cool wood so the pant legs extended over the side of the
table.  With surprising gentleness, he grabbed my torso and lay me
down over the jeans, making sure my ass was barely on and putting his
free arm on my shoulder so the greater weight of my thighs and legs
wouldn't drag me off.  This seemed a gentle act, at least until I
remember Carlos, which happened as he grabbed my right leg and
positioned it on his shoulder, and then mirrored the motion with my
left leg.

"You sure you don't want to go first, dad?  I don't mind sloppy
seconds."  This was, of course, a mere formality it seemed, since
junior was already lining up his teenage cock with my asshole.  The
head of it was fully inside me by the time his dad politely declined
and climbed up on the table, straddling my face.

"No, son. Go ahead. She's gonna need all the loosening up she can get
to take this piece."

Carlos's cock wasn't terribly big, but it was more than enough to make
me feel filled up.  I could feel his pubic hair brushing up against
me, then the familiar slap of testicles against my ass, meaning that
he had managed to go fully to the hilt into my hole without having to
allow me to adjust to it.  Still, his cock was more than adequate, as
it was pressing hard against my prostate, forcing more precum to juice
out of my own cockhead. While Carlos was busy plundering my boycunt,
his father lined up his slab of meat to re-assault my throat...



(To be continued)



Thanks for reading my story. If you want to give me any feedback, I welcome
all responses at my email: chubbyslutforyouruse@gmail.com. I'm also
interested in talking with guys on the phone or online and seeing where new
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forward to hearing from those of you who respond.