Date: Mon, 21 Nov 2016 07:54:41 +0100 (CET)
From: z.blake@tutanota.com
Subject: It Started With His Undies - Chapter 4 - (Revised)

IT STARTED WITH HIS UNDIES
By Zachyboy
M/b, incest, fingering, rimming, anal

This story is a work of fiction. No sense asking me if it ever really
happened, because it never really did. It involves sexual activity between
an adult male and an underage child, which we all know is somewhat
frowned-upon in the real world, so let me be the first to encourage you NOT
to try this at home.

Be a good sport and support the Nifty Archive Alliance. Thanksgiving is
coming, and I'm so grateful to Nifty, and the voice they've allowed me, and
the home they've given me, and if you can thank them too this holiday
season, well...

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

Little Benny will love you if you do. In a very special way.

On with the show.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

Chapter 4: "Finally Scratching Benny's Itch"

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

I don't think anyone really plans on having sex with their 10-year-old
son. I mean, as the kid's growing up, trading his cute little diapers for
cute little superhero undies, it's probably not high on your checklist. It
certainly wasn't top tier on my agenda, but still, here it was. And without
a doubt I'm hooked on him.

Hooked on his hair, his ears, the curve of his lips.

Hooked on his button nose, and tiny freckles, and the way his neck looks
from the back, with fine the downy hair, almost invisible. Almost
transparent.

Hooked on the way he mumbles in his sleep and wakes up in the middle of the
night for a drink of water, climbing in bed with me and cuddling up, asleep
again in an instant, breathing deeply, his hot breath on my neck and in my
ears. His arms wrapped around me.

Hooked on his perfect penis and tiny little ball sack. Hooked on its taste,
its hardness, its little-boy urgency as he grasps my head and thrusts it to
the back of my mouth, dry-cumming, gasping, and shaking with gratitude.

That dick that will fuck so many little girls someday. Or so many little
boys. And I'm glad I'm the one who first showed him how good it could feel
when he used it for something other than peeing.

And finally, I'm hooked on the rich, earthy smell of his ass. I think you
know that I love that by now. The nutmeg-vinegar musk of his sticky little
boy hole. A smell I've come to crave like nothing else, on my finger, on
his crack. Buns up and kneeling in front of my face, while my nose and my
tongue pay it worship, or passing in the hall, picking up his discarded
underwear and jacking off with them in the bathroom before taking them to
his hamper and turning off the light, inhaling them deeply and gratefully
along the way.

It started with his undies. But now here we are. And now it's something
else. Profound. And bigger than we imagined.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

I read a story once about a father and son. The 10-year-old boy played
soccer, and he came home exhausted and sweaty after a long game. And
noticing he had the sniffles, his dad gave him some cold medicine. And the
boy got drowsy. But before he fell asleep, still sore from playing, he
asked his daddy for a massage.

And the dad did. And while the boy fell into a deep slumber, the dad rubbed
his back with lotion. And then his thighs. And then the mounds of his ass,
first through his underwear and then without them. Sliding them off, he
lotioned the tip of his little finger and gently inserted it into the boy's
tight asshole.  Knowing he might never have this chance again, he pulled
down his pants, lubed his dick, and began moving it in and out between the
boy's thighs. But it wasn't enough.

And God, do I know that feeling.

He lined up his thick, mushroom head with the boy's little hole and he
gently pushed forward. The tip went in, the sleeping boy's ass swallowed
his cock, and inch-by-gentle-inch, he made love to his son until he
couldn't hold back. He erupted with cum, coating the inside of his
sleeping, sighing boy.

"I shot more times than I ever have," he said. "Buried inside my son." The
little boy woke the next morning, none the wiser, but wondering why his
butthole was sore.

And later in the story, when the boy realized what his dad had done, and
became an eager and willing participant, the two had sex all the time. But
one time in the story's most erotic scene, the father actually pulled off
the road in a moving car, to fuck his son in the back seat of the car on
the way home from soccer practice.

The dad was nearly blinded with lust for his son's sweet ass. He looked in
the rear view mirror. Saw his son stretching out a coltish leg. Saw him
tracing circles on his thigh with his fingers. Teasing him. Seducing him.

He stopped the car, opened the back door, grabbed his horny little boy, and
roughly tugged his shorts and undies down. He unleashed his own cock, lubed
it with lotion, flipped the boy tummy-down in the back seat and lifted his
ass into the air, parting him, licking his little ball bag, rubbing his
face in the boy's spread butt cheeks.

"The scent of his ass drove me wild," the dad said. And sticking his cock
up to the boy's sticky starfish, he buried himself balls-deep and loved him
fully and blasted him with cum.

"The scent of his ass drove me wild," he said. And even thought it was only
a story, its plot and author long forgotten, I've always remembered that
line. "The scent of his ass drove me wild."

Because I knew it so well. I believed it with all my heart. Fuck. I lived
it with Benny.

And now, after sniffing him, after fingering him, after eating him and
sucking him, after him sucking me, I was finally about to feed him my
cock. To slip it sweetly up his tiny sweet chute. I was going to mate with
my son. Fill him with my cum and mark him as my child, my boy, my lover
forever.

And I wanted it to be good, and right, and kind and gentle like my own
first time with a man. I didn't want Benny to do it just for me. I wanted
Benny to do it for Benny, because he wanted to feel me. He wanted to know
what it was like to take my dick deep inside him.

And I guess in my heart of hearts, I wanted to do it in a way that was so
special and perfect that he'd ask for it again like I did, when I was
fucked for the very first time.

"Again, Daddy," I wanted to hear him say when we finished. "Do it again."

I looked at him sleeping. I watched him begin to stir. I fondled his cock
and I fingered his little rosebud. We'd just sucked each other two hours
before and he was exhausted. It was a big experience for him and I didn't
know if he'd sleep the rest of the night. But as I fingered his ass, felt
the hot, sticky heat of him, I guess I had my answer:

"Daddy, I'm itchy again," Benny whimpered in his sweet, sexy, sleepy
baby-voice. "I itch in my butt, Daddy. Please make the itch go away."

That was Benny's way of saying, please Daddy, put something in me.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

So many memories of Benny fill my mind as I lean down in my bed to kiss
him, my tongue dancing in his mouth, tasting soda and sperm.

My sperm. The sperm he just ate for me.

So many memories.

Memories of Benny at three...a squiggly fish, squirming out of my arms,
naked and slippery in the bathtub.

Benny at four...playing with trucks in his room, squatting down, no pants
on, little willy visible. Just a pinky-tip at that point...pink, sweet,
with a perfect, tiny, acorn head. How he hated wearing pants at four. "Hi
Daddy," he'd smile up at me as I stood in the doorway. "Wanna pway frucks?"

Benny at five...tummy-down on the living room floor, piled onto pillows,
eating graham crackers, watching Jake and the Neverland Pirates, butt
cheeks already tight and alluring in his Spider-Man underpants...tiny
briefs that held his little baby bone and always smelled just a little too
much like tangy piss in the morning.

Benny at six...wanting to do everything. Soccer, karate, gymnastics,
basketball. He was always playing. Always breathless and sweaty. And so was
I, watching him. There was never an age I didn't want my son. Beautiful,
glistening boy. There was never an age I didn't want to make love to him.

Benny at seven...and the first time I ever saw him put his finger in his
ass. He giggled when he did it, undressing for his shower. He thought it
was funny. Giggled and howled with delight. We were tickling each other,
laughing and playing. In the midst of it all, he took his little
forefinger, still pudgy with baby fat, and licking it quickly, bent over
and poked it into his little hole, proud to show me.

He pulled it out, tinged with creamy brown and giggled, "Smell it,
Daddy. Smell my poop hole!" And he rubbed it under my nose and laughed
again, running for the bathroom, while I sat there, eyes closed and
immobilized, senses reeling, with the scent of my baby boy's ass still
dancing across my lungs.

I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I inhaled, still smelling him, and saw
colored sparkles fly across the landscape of my mind.

Benny at eight...riding his bicycle around and around the block. Always
wanting "one more time." Even when it was starting to get dark and I was
standing patiently in the driveway waiting for him, "just one more time."

His little moist ass crack pressing down on the bike seat. His little
undies lodged up into his butthole, making the fabric sticky, turning it
warm and rich and a beautiful creamy tan. The perfect, fragrant work of a
boy on a bicycle. Powerful, innocent, unintentional...and so freely
given. Every night, creating masterpieces, and never even knowing.

Benny at nine...jacking his own little cock under covers in him
room. Bedtime couldn't come too soon when Benny first discovered his dickie
and masturbation. "Night, Daddy," he'd casually say, and run up the stairs,
pajama shirt open, bottoms warm and cozy.

And I'd stand in the hall outside his door, silently waiting for – yes,
there it was – the soft "shicka-shicka" of spit-slicked hand meeting
skin, pulling his little dick up and down, back and forth, faster and
faster, little gasps and puffs of breath, until finally a heavy sigh, a
shuddering squeak, or a dreamy whimper signified his shivery little
dry-cum...always dry, but no less enjoyable. No less practiced.

And tonight, Benny at ten.

Benny at ten, lying naked in my bed. The son I was fingering, whose ass I'd
just eaten. The son whose nutmeg dicklet and cinnamon balls had been in my
mouth just two hours before. The son whose tummy was still swimming with
the thickest load of semen I'd ever produced...

"Mmmph, God, oh, baby," I'd moaned, just two hours before. "I'm going to
give you a drink now, okay baby? Mmmph. Ungggh. Gotta...give you...just a
little drink right now, sweet Benny. Open wide. That's it. Open...really
wide for Daddy. Open...Wiiiiiii---"

And he had. His mouth flew wide open. A target I couldn't miss.

"MMMMPRRGGGHH!!!"

And I just absolutely creamed him.

I creamed his mouth, his face, his lips, his darting little tongue, his
teeth, his nostrils with the pent-up semen I'd been saving all day. The
creamy cum I'd been dying to feed him for the past two weeks.

The hot load of jizz that just wouldn't stop shooting, wouldn't stop
gushing into the sexy open mouth of my little boy below. And he was just
amazing, licking at it, gobbling at it, swallowing in big, hungry gulps,
trying to get as much of it as he could.

With the first swallow, he made a little face, surprised at the strength of
the taste, but then, little trooper that he was, got right back down to
business without any fear at all, eating it, taking it, even reaching up
with his own little fingertip to catch a little that had shot on the side
of his nose, only to feed it to himself, not wasting a drop.

"Oh, baby," I'd moaned, watching him feed himself my cum. "Such a good boy,
baby. Such a good boy for Daddy."

"I love you, Daddy," he whispered to me. "I love you so much."

I'd squeezed every last drop onto his lips. He licked me clean. Licked off
every remaining molecule and swallowed it.

I crawled off him and lay down beside him, panting and exhausted. He leaned
over and laid his head on my chest. He stroked my chest hair and sighed in
satisfaction.

"Salty," he giggled. "Your juice tastes really salty."

He reached down and squeezed my sticky, softening cock. It lurched at his
touch.

"Maybe next time we'll have to put it somewhere else," I whispered to him,
between heavy breaths.

He giggled again.

"You mean in my butt," he said simply.

"No hurry," I said, kissing his forehead. "Plenty of time."

He squeezed my dick again. I laid there letting him, sleep already coming
for me.

"Okay, Daddy," he yawned, nuzzling into me and falling asleep
himself. "This time we played pee-cocks, next time we'll play butts."

And now it was two hours later and Benny was waking up again.

Benny at ten.

"Next time" was already here.

Benny at ten, about to offer me the ultimate treasure a son can give his
daddy. The most precious of gifts. His own virgin rectum, so tight and so
tiny. My beautiful Benny, willing to open himself up and take me all in.

"I'm itchy again," he whispered hungrily in his soft baby voice. "My butt
itches, Daddy. Please make the itch go away."

Precious sweet son, naked on my bed, so trusting.

"I will," I whispered as I kissed his sweet lips.

He had an itch in his body he could barely understand. A "need" requiring
answers. The same need I had felt not too many years from his age, when I
was a boy, and I was fucked by a man for the very first time. It was an
itch I was finally going to scratch for him, for real. He'd always be my
baby, and he'd always feel a need so similar to this one, the one he was
feeling right now, but it would never be quite the same as this.

Not like tonight.

Not like his first time.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

My dick was rock hard and Benny's heart was pounding.

"I'm kind of scared, Daddy," he admitted to me softly. "I think it's really
big and I think it might hurt."

"Do you want to stop?" I asked him gently? "We don't have to do this if
you're not ready."

"But I am ready," he whimpered. "I'm just not regular-ready yet. I'm just
scared-ready."

"How can we make you regular-ready?" I asked him softly.

He shrugged. Penis hard. Wanting me, but not knowing how. Asking for a
solution.

I whispered. "Why don't you just relax for a minute and not be scared. I'm
going to make you feel really, really good with my tongue first. Nothing
scary to start with, okay? Nothing new. Nothing hurty, okay?"

"'Kay."

I lifted his legs, moved my face between his wide-open ass, and began to
feast.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

There's a different scent, a different flavor, a different heat that comes
from a boy's beautiful anus when he's upturned and open and ready to be
fucked.

The salty, coppery, vinegar-sweet tang of boyhood-in-his-undies is a
magnificent lead-in, but when a boy is ready to be fucked, the temptation
is replaced with something much more grown-up, something much more mature.

It's a yeasty smell, a bready smell, open and warm and hot and inviting. As
if the boy knows something very grown-up is about to happen inside him. It
won't just be simple. It'll be complicated and important. And his body
knows, by instinct, to open up and flower in a way it's never had to do
before. And it makes all the necessary adjustments and scents and internal
slipperiness to make that first, powerful moment of complete copulation
intimately possible.

Benny's ass smelled like that now. Bready, yeasty, hot as an oven. Open,
baking, and ready to be fucked.

I ate him deeply. He moaned and writhed on the bed sheets. His little hands
grasped my head, pulled my ears. His fingers twisted at my hair as he cried
out and whimpered, "Daddy, please do it in me. Do it inside me, please."

My tongue was tasting him, so deeply. Like spongy-hot bread dough. Like
goodness. Like heaven.

He lifted me, pulled my face away, brought me to his lips, his mouth, his
hungry tongue. Kissing me. Moaning. Tasting his own open ass flavor on my
tongue.

Eager, he climbed on top of me, grasping for my cock, attempting, too
quickly, to sit on me. Wincing when he missed, but wanting me in him and
wanting me now.

"Please, Daddy," he whimpered desperately between kisses. "Make me feel
good, Daddy. With your cock. With your dick."

I slid my finger into him and he gasped at the length of it.

"Ohhhh," he moaned loudly. Still trying to sit on my
cock. Desperate. Clumsy. Not getting what he needed. He leaned forward,
aggressive, eager.

"Fuck me, Daddy," he whined, almost crying now, almost mad, biting my ear,
sucking on my neck, grasping wildly and ineffectively at my penis and
trying to align it with the desperate heat of his gaping anus. "Please!" he
cried, with real tears in his eyes. "I don't want to wait any more. I want
us to do this. For real. Forever."

"I love you," I whispered, taking his hand away and aiming my dick.

I grabbed him by the ribs. Fixed the angle. Touched the entrance of his
anus with the pounding mushroom head of my cock, and pulled him slowly
down.

I kissed his sweaty chest, licked his nipples, and his eyes rolled back,
gasping and joyful. I pushed forward.

"Oh yes," he whispered. "Put it in me, Daddy. I want it so much."

I licked the sweat off his belly and lunged forward. I popped through his
ring and felt him gasp as I tipped him.

"Ahhhhhhh" he cried out in perfect, moaning happiness. "So good! So good!"

I pushed forward further. His tube started to take me in.

"Daddeeeee!" he cried. "Fuck me good, Daddy! I love you so much, Daddy! I
love you so much!"

I kissed his tears. I pushed myself into him. He opened and cried. Shivered
in joy. I licked his sweet salty nipples and my cockhead pushed forward
past his first gripping sphincter, and finally began its long-awaited,
glorious journey into the welcoming ass of my 10-year-old son.

# # # # # # # # # #

When I was a child, the first man who fucked me was very, very gentle.

I was 12-years-old that summer, his name was Colin and he was a friend of
my mum. Called back overseas for a family emergency, my great-grandmother
in Ireland was dying, Colin was the man my mother trusted to take care of
me during the ten days she was gone. I had no dad. He'd died when I was a
baby. And Colin was sort of an unofficial uncle. A friend of the family and
he only choice to watch me.

He moved into our house to look after me and he was very kind. He was
always kind to me. Always caring. And knowing I was missing my mum, he was
kinder still.

I was already having sex with a neighbor boy across the street by
then. Scott was a bigger boy, three years older, and not always easy on me,
though I grew to like the roughness of his fucks in spite of his nearly
frantic urgency to finish in me fast. I sometimes convinced him to go
slower and to take his time. And in those beautiful moments, I could almost
imagine he loved me.

It was during one of those times, those slower times up in my room with
Scott, that Colin walked in. I was naked on my bed, on my stomach, while
Scott, laying across my back and gripping my chest with his strong arms,
something I loved, was sliding his thick, wet cock in and out of my
12-year-old ass, and judging from his breathless tempo, was just about to
cum.

"Sean," said Colin, entering the room without knocking. "Are you boys ready
for supper now or..."

He stopped suddenly, realizing what he'd walked into.

"Oh, God," he said quickly. "Please excuse me, boys. I should have
knocked."

And that's all he said. He turned around as quickly as he'd come in,
quietly shut the door, and retreated downstairs. Not another word was said.

I was horrified, but while Scott was embarrassed, he still wanted to cum. I
felt his dick still testing me. Prodding forward, a toe in the water. Would
I let him finish? Even after Colin had caught us?

"Can I cum?" he whispered.

"Stop!" I said, rolling over and pushing him off. "He saw us! He saw!"

Scott's dick was red. Still erect.

"He said `excuse me,'" Scott replied. "He went away and shut the door. He
didn't care."

"I care, Scott! Get off of me! Go away!"

And Scott, confused, put on his underwear, his pants, his socks, and
quietly slipped out of my room.

I was mortified. My cheeks flushed and burning red, I got dressed, slowly
inched my way down the stairs, to find Colin in the kitchen, humming,
cooking dinner, throwing spices into a big crock pot of stew that would
have smelled wonderful if it weren't for the massive, sick butterflies in
my stomach.

"Colin," I started. "I can explain."

"There's my boy," he said with a hardy smile, as if nothing wrong had
happened at all. "Reach into the fridge and grab me an onion,
oh-gracious-one." That was his nickname for me, "oh-gracious-one," because
my name "Sean," in Gaelic, means "God is gracious." I felt less than
gracious now.

"Colin, I'm sorry," I said.

"Sorry?" he said, putting down his stirring spoon, sitting on a chair and
beckoning me forward. I came to him as if summoned. Stood between his legs
shamefaced, my head down, starting to cry.

"Now, little man," he said softly, lifting my chin and wiping my tears. "No
need for that. Do you think you're the only wee lad who ever found a friend
that way?"

I sniffled and looked up.

"Why, when I was in boarding school...it was just boys' boarding schools in
my day, your grace..."

My eyes darted up, intrigued...

"Ach, but that's another day's story," he said. He put his hands on both of
my cheeks. Held my head in his hands and I felt so nice, so safe, so warmed
by the kindness of him.

"Is that bigger boy hurting you?" he asked simply.

"Oh no, Colin," I shook my head. "He's my friend. It's fine. I ask him to."

"Well then," Colin smiled gently. "No one's the wiser then. And if no one
is hurt, and if everyone likes it, well then much more the reason to give
him your love."

I sniffled and nodded.

"The love of a boy's a remarkable thing," he said sincerely. "It can't be
bought, it can't be borrowed. It has to be given freely. And when the boy's
ready, and you know he's ready, well then, that's a special time indeed. To
be treasured and thought of the rest of your life."

I looked up with tearful eyes and nodded.

"Fear not, bairn," he smiled. "Your secret's safe with me."

And four days later, when I climbed into his bed in the middle of the
night, naked and warm, wrapping my arms around his soft, downy chest,
nuzzling into his neck and feeling his big, muscled arms instinctively
wrapping around me and holding me tight, I was more than content, I was
mesmerized. I was growing up, right here in bed with this man, where I knew
it should happen. I was more than ready to be loved by this friend.

"Are you sure, your grace?" he asked, hugging me tenderly and kissing my
eyelids.

I nodded. I was sure. I put my hands on his cheeks like he'd done to me in
the kitchen that night. I leaned forward and kissed him, my lips tasting
his toothpaste and his manhood. And he moaned softly and kissed me back.

I don't know who the needier boy was that night, me or Colin, but somehow
we came together and found each other, and when he opened by legs and
pressed his beautiful warm penis into my waiting flower, it was more than
gentle. It was soft and sweet and it was achingly tender.

It was the perfect dichotomy of hardness and love, manliness and tenderness
I'd craved so long with any man, but never achieved. Fatherless child that
I was, I needed this man to open me this way. And kissing him as he filled
me, I cried because it felt so good, and he cried too as I asked him to
fill me deeper.

My world turned from black and white to color that night.

And when Benny was born so many years later – Aiden Benjamin, my son and
my pride – it was Colin who I asked to be his godfather. Colin, who
gratefully accepted with a heart full of pride and eyes full of tears as he
held the baby boy in his arms.

It was Colin who had followed me all my life, in tenderness and in
memory. Colin, who so many years ago, had turned a lost, sad boy into
goodness. Into grace.

"If no one is hurt, and if everyone likes it, well, then much more the
reason to give him your love."

"The love of a boy's a remarkable thing. It can't be bought, it can't be
borrowed. It has to be given freely. And when the boy's ready, and you know
he's ready, well then, that's a special time indeed. To be treasured and
thought of the rest of your life."

Thank you, Colin, for patiently teaching me when I was 12-years-old, the
way I needed to love my Benny tonight.

I prayed I'd make him ask for more. To be so good, he'd beg me, "again,"
the way I always asked for you.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

I wish I could describe for you the inexplicably perfect moment when my
hard penis finally burrowed its way into Benny's grasping chamber. That
achingly slow, sweet moment when I could feel his warm and spongy rectum,
his hot furnace gently yielding, gliding slowly down the shaft of my cock
until he came to sit on me, fully impaled, eyes closed, head tilted back,
his little penis rock hard as he took me all the way inside him.

There was no look of pride, no victory, no acknowledgment required. We were
both just so satisfied with the full completion and the breathtaking
inevitability of it. Here it was. Just like we'd dreamed. And even when
he'd fully filled himself with my cock, he pushed down harder still,
looking for just a little bit more. Wanting to be filled just a little bit
further. Needing to be just a little bit closer.

"Oh, baby," I whispered, stroking his cheek and loving him more than I'd
ever loved him before. "You feel so good on my cock, little boy. So
brave. So good. Your ass is so good on Daddy's big dick. Do you like it
baby? Do you like my big dick in you?"

"S'big," he whispered. "It's really, really big."

He pulled himself up a little, held in mid-shaft for a moment, then lowered
himself down again. Grunted. Winced.

"It's really, really big," he whispered again.

"I'm just gonna move it really slow now, okay baby?"

"Okay, Daddy."

"You let me know if it hurts, okay? And we'll stop."

"Okay," he grunted. "But it's okay now. I think it's okay."

It was almost too big, but it wasn't too big. His ass opened up, relaxing
into my rhythm. I rocked up into him. He was still sitting on me, eyes
closed, head tilted back.

"I wanna lay down," he whispered. "I wanna do it laying down."

Sliding him sideways, without pulling out, I leaned us both to my left and
laid us down, spooning, his head on the pillow and mine right behind him. I
wrapped my arms around his chest, pushed my dick farther into his ass and
hugged him deeply from behind.

"Mmmm," he sighed, melting into my arms. I kissed the back of his neck. His
hair was sweaty, poor boy, from the effort or the fear. But now he was
okay. His heartbeat was slowing down. Now he was sighing, melting into me,
letting the lovemaking begin.

"Are you okay, Benny?"

"Yeah," he said softly. And I could hear his smile. "I'm really okay."

Slowly, tenderly, with no hurry at all, I moved my hardness in and out of
his velvety rectum. He pushed back against me, inviting me deeper, helping
me fuck him. Helping me take his virginity and scratch the itch that he now
understood. This is what it felt like to be loved by a man, this deep full
feeling that overtook everything...body, bowels, history, heart. Our whole
lives had been leading up to this point. And now here it was.

"I feel so full," he whispered softly. "Like it's all the way inside me. In
my tummy. Up to my throat. It makes me happy daddy," he said with a
sob. "It makes me want to cry it's such a good feeling."

I held him tighter and I fucked him gently. And he really did cry. And
laugh. And whisper that it felt good. I reached around and stroked his
little penis. Rock hard. Anxious for my touch. Our pace began to
quicken. His breathing became more ragged.

"I'm going to go harder now, baby," I said to him softly. "I'm going to go
harder and faster until I squirt my juice in you now, okay?"

"Okay, Daddy," Benny laughed and sobbed and whispered and cried. "Let's go
harder."

"First I'm going to pull my cock out for a minute..."

"Noooo," he moaned, pushing back against it, not wanting me to take it out
yet.

"Just for a minute, baby, so I can put you on your back and lift your legs
up."

I pulled out quickly, he tensed, sucked in air. I rolled him on his back,
re-lubed, and lifted his lean naked legs up. I looked down and could see
his anus, stretched and gaping from the thickness of my cock.

"Here it comes again, baby," I warned him. "I'm coming back in."

I placed the tip at his open hole and pushed forward. He swallowed me up in
one stroke.

"Nnnngghh," he said, deep in his throat as it went back in. "So big, so
big. I want to say swears, Daddy. I want to say lots of swears."

"Go ahead, baby. Say your swears."

"FUCK me, Daddy," he hissed out in passion. "Fuck my fucking hole with your
big, fat COCK."

His dirty language made me even harder.

"Fuck you like THIS?" I asked, jabbing it into him.

"Unnngh," he grunted. "So big, so hard. Your COCK is so hard."

"Gonna fuck you with it," I whispered in his ear. "Gonna fuck you hard,
baby."

"Fuck me!" he shouted, grabbing my ass and yanking me in him as far as he
could. "FUCK my FUCKING CUNT ASS!"

He was wild. Writhing. In heat. I'd never seen him like this.

Holding his legs up, I fucked my cock into him deeply and forcefully and
long. I made wide hip thrusts and I bent down to kiss him as I did. His
legs lowered and locked around my back. He was taking me all, starting to
pant.

"Fuck my ass, fuck my ass," he was whispering in rhythm with my thrusts.

Grabbing the lube, I squeezed a generous amount on his cock and my tummy,
where his little spike was rubbing and grinding up into me as I fucked
him. The new slipperiness of his dick on my skin made him gasp. His hand
came between us to stroke himself as I fucked him.

My pace picked up and so did Benny's. In and out, I gave him my dick. I
licked the sweat from the top of his forehead. The bedroom smelled like
pheromones and baby powder, like my sweating pubes and his open ass, that
thick yeasty dough rising up from his stretched tunnel, filling the room
with heat and boy musk.

"I can't believe you're fucking me," he whispered with happy tears in his
eyes. "Why didn't you do this sooner, Daddy? Why didn't you do this
sooner."

"You feel so good, Benny. You're such a brave boy."

"Your cock feels so good," he said. "So deep and so hard."

"I'm going to cum in you now, baby. Is that okay?"

"Oh yes, Daddy," he moaned. "Cum in me, Daddy. Make me have your baby."

"Ughhh, fuck. Gonna fill you with my cum now..."

"Cum in me, Daddy..."

"Gonna shove my cock so far in you, and fuck you full of cum..."

"Fuck me, Daddy. Fill me with your CUM!"

"Oh yeah, baby. Oh yeah. Gonna be soon now...gonna be soon..."

My pace had become frantic, slamming into his ass, but before I could
shoot, his finger reached down to his lubed and musky ass. He filled a
finger and brought it to my nose. He lodged the finger between us, sniffing
it, licking it, wanting to share it with me.

"Smell my ass, Daddy," he said into my mouth. "Smell my ass when you cum
inside me."

He put the finger up to my nose, rich and musky. And that was all I could
take.

"Ungh, ungh, UNNNGHH!" The sight of my son, covered in sweat. His soft
little boy voice, talking dirty. The smell of his ass and the flavor of his
musk.

"UNNNNGGGGGH!" I grunted explosively, seeing stars. Seeing fireworks. I
shoved my cock forward as far as it would go and unloaded into his fiery
bowels. Ropes of my cum shot into his ass. His legs locked around me,
pulling me deeper. His ass constricted around my squirting cock, hungry for
a feeding, milking me raw.

"DADDDEEEEE!" Benny wailed. "You're making me cum, Daddy!"

"Oh baby, oh Benny!" I punched it forward, giving him more. Breeding him
deeply and making him mine. Benny at ten, his ass open and earthy, the
smell of his sex ripe in the air as I fucked him full of my seed.

"Nnnngggh!" he grunted, freezing, shaking and panting in a shuddering
dry-cum. "DADDDEEEEE!"

My little boy at ten, fucked into orgasm. Fucked into cumming. For Daddy,
for Benny. For both of us.

I don't know how long we lay there after that, recovering from that first
massive cum. I flipped him onto his side again, spooned him, wrapped him in
my arms, my dick still lodged up his sticky, wet ass. I'm sure we
slept. I'm sure we did.

And I woke to the wonderful feeling of Benny's mouth on my cock, cleaning
me off, making me hard.

He looked up, mouth full of cock, innocent eyes, so much older than he's
seemed just a day ago. So much older. So more mine.

He looked up at me with a mouth full of dick and asked me with his eyes. I
smiled and nodded and stroked his hair.

He crawled up my legs and straddled my fresh, throbbing bone.

He said what I wanted. He said what I prayed for.

Already lowering himself, his eyes full of lust...

"Again," he said in a husky hot voice I would have never imagined...

"Let's do it again."

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THE END

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A special thanks to Xavier L., whose story "Jeremy's Rub Down" was the
springboard that inspired this one. You can find it in the Gay Male>Incest
section back in February 2005. "The scent of his ass drove me wild," is
Xavier's line, not mine, and I thank him for that one single line that put
an itch in my heart that wouldn't go away for nearly a decade until I
finally scratched it with Benny. Thanks, Xavier.

Benny also appears as a minor character in a story about his best friend Ryan.
https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/giving-ryan-a-drink

I love you guys. Happy Thanksgiving.
Zach