Date: Tue, 2 Mar 2010 13:21:00 -0800 (PST)
From: kevin Donovan <letsgonaked2000@yahoo.com>
Subject: Special Services Division, Chapter 7, gay incest

This story continues to depict graphic descriptions of sex between males,
including relatives.  If that offends you, or if it is illegal to read or
possess such material where you live, leave now.  All characters are above
the legal age for consensual sex where you live.  This is a fantasy!  It is
entirely fictional. The author does not condone either unsafe sex or any
kind of sexual abuse or exploitation of minors.  Your comments are welcome
at letsgonaked2000@yahoo.com

SPECIAL SERVICES DIVISIONCHAPTER SEVENINITIATION, part one


	Breakfast was Eddie's special French Toast with sausage that
morning.  The man had a future as a chef, if he should ever want to pursue
it.  Afterward, we did the sunscreen slathering again, but not the
butt-fucking on Eddie.  We were all saving ourselves for the night!
	Eddie must have been very confident we would finish our painting in
plenty of time, because he asked if there were 3 volunteers to exercise the
horses for an hour or so before the day got too hot.  I loved riding, and
my hand shot right up, followed by Colin's and Stewart's.
	"I'd rather get the painting done while it's not so hot," said
Nick.
	"I'm not keen on chafing my butt crack at this particular moment,"
said Steve.
	"I'm afraid of them damn horses," said Greg.
	So it was settled.  The others got on their ladders and set to
painting, while we three grabbed cowboy hats from the utility room and went
out to round up and saddle up Eddie's three steeds, two geldings and a
mare.
	Horses can be a pain to catch if they are not in the mood to be
ridden, especially by folks they don't know well, or know too well and had
a bad experience with.  Luckily, they were at the stable area waiting to be
fed, and we tricked them-we saddled them instead.  They could eat when they
got back, and besides, grass was all they really needed.  Eddie used
western gear, and his stirrups had leather boot covers on them.  That
helped for riding barefoot, (a foolish enterprise, really), because it gave
us a 'stop' to keep our feet from sliding through and getting caught in the
stirrup.  We swung up and set out, first around the pasture a few turns.
That got boring pretty fast.  So we opened the gate and trotted up and down
the driveway a time or two.  Then we pulled up together to consult.  Damn,
my fellow cowboys were hot as all blazes sitting naked astride those big,
powerful beasts.  (Men have to know how to do this without sitting
 on their dick and balls, but we had learned that as children.)
	"There's sixty acres to ride over there among Mr. Anders' cattle,"
said Stewart, pointing across the road.  "And he's a widower now, no women
or kids I know of."
	"Yeah," said Colin.  "Have to go across the road, though, and open
and close the gate.
	"Well, we can stop and check traffic first.  One goes out, opens
the gate.  Others scoot through.  Last one closes the gate.  What, thirty,
forty seconds?  Lots of times there's no one passing for longer than that,"
I added.
	So we agreed.  We'd lurk in Eddie's lane till we were confident
there was no sight or sound of traffic, and Stewart would ride out, open
the gate, and enter the field.  Colin would trot through, too, and then I'd
be right behind him to close behind me.
	No sign of traffic.  Stewart made his break.  The gate swung open
easily, and in he went, Colin right behind, and me bringing up the rear.
Then we heard the whirr of tires.  Big tires.  A lot of big tires.  I
grabbed the loop that lassoed the gate post to hold it closed, and began to
urge Ben, my mount, to push it shut.  The first semi truck passed, slowing
for the curve just ahead.  There we were, three naked men on horseback.
The driver did a double-take.  As he took the curve, he hit his horn twice.
That alerted the next truck, which passed just as I was dropping the
closure onto the post.  That driver grinned a big toothy smile, and waved.
The other two guys waved back-what else can you do?  As I was turning,
leaning forward to urge Ben on, butt-crack at maximum exposure, then the
tour-bus came by, slowing like the truckers for the coming curve.  Rows of
silver-permed hairdos and metallic eye-glasses lined its windows.
  Hands went to mouths.  Fingers pointed.  Stewart, facing the road still,
waved his cowboy hat.  Then the bus whisked out of sight, and the three
pale riders rode off into the pasture among the cattle, and over the rim of
the rolling land from easy view of the road.
	"Well, that went well, I thought," stated Colin drily.
	"I dunno, the ladies on the far side didn't get to see," Stewart
answered.  "And you had your side view to them, I don't think they saw any
of you at all, Colin.  Do you think I should have stood in the saddle when
I waved, so they'd see my crotch better?"
	"I'm sure they'll be back.  The folks of the other side will demand
it.  We'll all face the road and stand in the stirrups then," I chimed in.
	We laughed and continued our ride. We galloped across the pasture,
three wild young bucks enjoying the summer sun, the breeze on our bare
skin, and the power of horseflesh between our thighs.  We circled the
fenced area and approached the farm house where Mr. Anders lived alone now,
since the death of his wife last year.
	Colin saw it first, swore, and pointed.  It was the tour bus,
parked beside Mr. Anders' barn, disgorging passengers in colorful summer
wear, mostly older ladies in their sweaters.  They were already shading
their eyes and pointing our way.
	With a whoop, Stewart whirled Arlene, the mare, and set out at a
dead run straight across the pasture.  Colin and I were right behind him.
Leaping from the tall horses to unlatch the gate, barefoot, was not in the
cards.  Stewart wasted precious seconds grabbing for the chain, while a
Volvo wagon passed on the road.  Colin sat with his hat on his crotch,
wearing a fetching, aw-shucks smile.  I just sat, dick flopping on my
thigh.
	The gate swung open, and this time I did swing down off Ben onto
the soft grass at the gate.  The other riders trotted through and across
the road into the safety of Eddie's long driveway.  I pulled the gate shut
and latched it securely, while a pick-up truck and an SUV passed,
confronting my bare backside.  I mounted and clattered across the road and
into the driveway, now twenty-five yards behind the others.  What a sight
they were-galloping, with their butts high in the air.  I began to laugh.
	We tended to the horses and their tack, and gave them a small
snack.  Then we headed up to the house to shower, jump in the pool, and get
to painting.  Or hide from the sheriff, whichever was called for.
	Eddie was standing beside the kitchen door.
	"What the hell did you boys do?"
	"Nothin'.  Rode the horses like you asked."  That was Stewart.
	"Well, I did neglect to mention one little thing.  About the Farm
Life Weekend going on today and next weekend.  And how Mr. Anders across
the road volunteered his place to be set up as a model farm for touring,
because he has that big, historic barn over there that people like to see.
Which results in additional traffic for our road this weekend.
	"By the way, a Mrs. Farthingale called, she's with the tour group.
She mentioned that three naked boys may have stolen my horses and made
their escape in that direction."
	"Oh, shit," said Colin.  "Did she call the Sheriff?"
	"No-o-o.  Actually, her question was-- once satisfied that there
had been no theft-- could I arrange for this to happen again next Saturday.
She thinks she may add another bus next week.  This was the most excitement
she's had on a tour all year.  The ladies on her bus say their friends
would never believe what they saw today-had they not all got photos on
their cell phones to prove it."
	"I think I'll stay away from Facebook for a couple of weeks,"
intoned Stewart.  "And YouTube, like forever."
	"Let's finish the painting, men."

-2-
      Our foray into possible viral internet notoriety notwithstanding, we
completed our work by one, and then had lunch.  Then we had more showers,
more sunscreen, and more pool time, until about three.  Feeling really
drained by sun and water, we showered yet again, and hit the sack for a
two-hour nap.  No blow-jobs this time, just sleep, with Colin's strong arm
flung over my back.  It felt great, like he didn't want me to get away.  He
always likes to have one limb or other laid across me in some way, kind of
security.  I knew I could be heading for a hard fall with this guy, though.
He'd promised me nothing, not even said he loved me or anything like that.
So far, it was a weekend fling.
      We awoke to Eddie bringing up frozen margaritas on a tray.  I'd never
had one before, but I liked them immediately, which I knew might be a bad
sign.  Eddie promised he'd police the intake and not let us ruin our own
evening.  I could have two within this hour, and one per hour after that,
no more.
      That got me to buzzing happily.  I was excited about the evening.  As
we sipped our drinks, we had some prep to do.  Eddie called us together in
the upstairs hallway.  "Men, if you have any inclination whatsoever to take
a shit in the next several hours, I urge you to go into one of the john's
and deliver the turd now if at all possible.  It always puts a damper on
things to have one turn up as the skunk at the garden party."  We all
laughed, but Steve and Greg slunk off in opposite directions.  There was
flushing after a few moments, and the two returned.
      "Now.  Cleansing the colon.  Step to the pool deck please."
      He lined us up on the edge of the grass border, asses toward the
shrubbery and the fence.  He had pulled out a garden hose to that point,
with no nozzle.  It was running at about half strength.  Eddie passed a
bottle of non-water-soluble lube to Colin, who was first in line.
      "Grease up, and pass it down."
      We did, with looks of understanding and chagrin exchanged between us.
      "Now, men.  This is easy, but you must be careful.  Cleanse, but do
not overfill.  Insert the hose one inch into your rectum and feel the water
flow in.  It will be cool.  When it feels sort of full, but not tight, pull
out the hose and pass it along.  Hold your water as long as you can, which
won't be long at all.  Then bend, and expel it toward the fence with all
the force you can muster.  Any, uh, detritus will go with it.  Then pass
the hose back down the line.  Repeat at least three times, until you feel
very, very clean inside.  I will be checking, by the way."

      "I saw this in an old porn flick," Colin said.  "That guy really had
range!"
      "I'm sure we have some power players here as well, Colin.  And I
expect you may be one of them."
      As a matter of fact, he was right.  As I clenched my anal ring to
hold in my load, Colin bent and let fly with his.  An astonishing spray of
water burst from his backside and sprayed the shrubs four feet behind him.
Everyone laughed uproariously.  I tried to match that, but only got about
half as far.  Down the line, water-cannon bursts exploded from my cousins'
butts.  We got to giggling, and it became a game.  On the second round,
Stewart blasted almost to the fence, causing Greg to break down in
hysterics.  Steve let fly with a good one, and then I sprayed the plants.
Colin was laughing so hard, he almost hit his own bare feet.  That set Greg
off again-the poor boy never did get out a decent burst.  Nick finally
joined in with a nice one on the third try.
      Now Eddie lubed up his hand really good and passed the lube down the
line again.
      "Let's hope I don't hit anything brown," he said wryly.  "Grab your
knees."
      He swirled his fingers, two of them, around inside each of our holes,
withdrew them, and examined his fingers.  Only Nick failed to pass muster.
"One more shot, dude," was the verdict.
      This time, Nick nailed the shrubs, and he was listed as all clear.
      Next, Eddie directed us to locate and report back with our larger
butt-plugs.  We scattered.  I knew right where mine was, and it was close
by.  I was first back.
      "Plug in, Private," ordered Sergeant Eddie.  I lubed, placed, pushed,
and plugged.  It was much easier than the first time.
      The others arrived and received the same order.  Colin was ready.  He
had little difficulty, just made a cute face like he was passing a big one.
I had probably done the same thing.
      Greg certainly had no trouble, experienced as he was.  But Nick and
Steve had to have help.  Stewart gently worked Nick's plug into him, and
Greg helped Steve out.  Eddie looked on approvingly.
      "Keep them in, men, through dinner.  We'll have each of your studs do
the removal for you later, as they prepare to replace it with one they grew
themselves."

      To keep things simple, Eddie had ordered pizza delivery.  Apparently,
the delivery guy was used to having Eddie come to the door naked, but I
don't think he was quite prepared for half a dozen naked guys his own age
draped over the furniture as he placed the boxes on the table.  He looked
around, eyes like cheese pizzas, from crotch to crotch.
      "Some kind of big dick club?" he asked Eddie.  Eddie nodded
noncommittally, counting out bills.
      Most of us wanted a beer with the pizza.  "That counts as your second
margarita," Eddie said, as Steve and Colin rummaged in the fridge.
      Around seven, our studs began to arrive.  They'd been told
seven-thirty, but no one wanted to be late.  All entered nude, having left
their clothes in their cars, per Eddie's instructions.  First came Nick's
man, his older brother Jared, who looked just like Nick, except with hair
on his upper chest instead of his abdomen.  He was also an inch or so
shorter, and had more meat on his legs.  He was twenty-three.  The two
hugged happily, and Nick's dick shot to half-mast.  They were obviously
close.  They'd hardly finished their playful banter of greeting, when my
cousin Rob sauntered in, feeling his bare hips for pockets to put his hands
in.  He was a handsome, brown-haired lawyer with gold glasses, a smooth
body, and an all-over tan, late twenties, and there to deflower Greg.
There was a gap then, while we munched pizza (didn't want to get too full,
though), served margaritas or beers to the newcomers, and sipped
 self-consciously.  There was just a bit of the junior high prom feel to
things so far.  Eddie moved the festivities downstairs to the larger
recreation room just as Stewart's stud, his uncle Joey arrived.  Joey was
only five years older than Stewart himself, and he was a broad-shouldered,
big-muscled guy with shoulder-length, sun-bleached wavy hair.  His chest
and legs were shaved, and his pubes were like a thin, plucked eyebrow.
What a schlong!  What was Stew thinking, having a whopper like that for his
first butt-fuck.  Or maybe not his first-if he'd been sucking Colin since
age twelve, maybe he had progressed, like Greg, beyond some of us.  And how
about me?  It WAS my first butt-fuck, and I'd invited my big-dicked father
to do the honors!
      Speaking of whom, he showed up next, at 7:25.  And on the nose of
7:30, Steve's nineteen-year-old brother, Andy, a cocky (in more ways than
one) surfer-dude-looking guy, trim and well-built in shoulders and thighs,
with just a soft chest-full of light brown hair.
      Dad gave me a big hug, and our dicks touched.  It felt good.
      "You OK?  Is this still on, for sure?"
      "Yes, Dad, don't sweat it.  I'd have called you if I was backing out.
I'm excited.  This is going to be great!  Do you remember our cousin Colin?
Hasn't been to The Camp, I think, for a few months."
      Dad looked a little startled.  "Oh.  Yeah.  Ralph's boy.  Well, great
to see you.  I hadn't heard you were in this group.
      He looked around inquisitively.  "So...who's here for you, Colin?
      Answer: Nobody.  Ralph had not showed.
      Colin was understandably embarrassed.  One of the most important days
of his life, his dad has a special role to play, and he doesn't show up.
Eddie delayed with drinks and hors d'oeurves until eight.  At 7:50, Colin
had slipped aside to call his dad's cell phone.  No answer.
      Finally, I saw Eddie take Colin aside.  Eddie was questioning
quietly.  Colin was shrugging, and shaking his head.  I heard,
"...who...fill in... quickly?"
      Colin was pointing discretely over at me.  Eddie looked quizzical.  I
heard, "unusual...experienced...up to you...sure, why not." And then he
gestured to me.
      Colin popped the question.
      "Looks like Dad is not coming, and I think it's for the best, Will.
I hate to put you on the spot.  I know your dad is here, and all.  Anyway,
it would please me very much if you would be my Man tonight.  I know it's
supposed to be someone from the other team.  But I don't really know these
other guys, or if I do, I don't much like them."  He glanced toward Andy.
I was struck dumb, so he continued.
      "Could you do it for me?  I'd so appreciate it."
      I shut him up with a kiss on his blabbering mouth.  "Of course I'll
do it.  It will be my great honor."
      And Greg and Steve would never, ever let me forget it.  But I was
overjoyed.
      -3-
	The music changed to something softer.  Eddie stepped forward
holding a beer, and addressed the group.  He went on a bit about how this
was the biggest group of newbies the family ever had in one season, and
what great guys we were to work with.  How important it was to get off to
the right start, to have self-respect, and know the esteem of others.  How
much we all appreciated the studs' time and effort in coming here, and what
an honor it was to be asked to do this special duty.  He explained that
each couple would use the big ottoman separately.  It would be the newbie's
task to get and keep his man hard.  It would be the stud's role to enter
him painlessly and fully, and adjust lubrication as needed.  Both would
consult in advance on the position or positions to be used.  The
defloration was completed upon the ejaculation of the stud, which was to be
inside the rectum of the trainee.  Everything was to be done right here, in
 the presence of all in attendance.  And he himself would be watching
attentively to make sure enough lube was being used, enough care in entry,
and appropriate gentleness in the whole act.  If the candidate said stop,
the process would stop-instantly.  Our target time, start to finish was
twenty minutes.  He's call a halt at thirty minutes, this first time, if
the breeding was not complete.  He gave us five minutes to talk over our
strategy.
	Colin, Dad, and I met as a trio.  I knew Dad would have his role
all choreographed, but I also knew he would run it by me for approval.  So
I gave him the nod.
	"OK, Will, here's what I think, but it's up to you, of course.
Side to side is an easy position for entry, no pressure on the rectum that
way.  It isn't all that interesting to watch, though.  So how about we
start with that, and then swivel around to doggie style.  If that finishes
it, fine, if not, move to missionary, with your legs up on my shoulders.  I
can really hammer that way, if it takes it.  Hopefully not."  It sounded
complicated, but hell, it would get me fucked royally.
	"Sounds good, Dad, it's a go."  I turned to Colin.  "How about you,
bud?"
	Colin responded thoughtfully.  "I hear sitting down on the rod is a
good way to begin.  Gives the fuckee, me, more control over entry, better
pain management.  You could hold the lube and add more if I call for it.  I
don't think you'd get off that way, though."
	Dad was listening carefully, and nodding.
	"So after we get me opened up good that way, what say we also move
to doggie-but if you press me really hard, I'll just lie on the table and
let you fuck me flat.  If you need more friction, pull my legs together
more.  That way, you control your sensation, and you're sure of getting
your nut."
	Dad nodded approvingly.  "Good plan."
	I agreed, too.  We were ready.  Eddie called the six of us forward
to draw a number from a little square box he held up high.  I pulled four,
Colin six.  Good, at least I didn't have to top and bottom in quick
succession.  Greg and Rob would be up first, Nick and Jared second, Steve
and Andy third.  Then Stewart and Joey filled in between me and Colin.
      The music changed again, to Donna Summers' "Love to Love ya Baby,"
and the lights dimmed.  Spotlights shone on the round leather ottoman.
There would be a different, specially selected song for each couple, most
of which did not really register with me, though it was clearly classic
disco night.  But we were ready.  Let the cherries pop.