Turner's Fifteen Minutes (mb,extreme pedo,nepi,toddler,inc,oral,necro)

by Todd Sayre 

***

Little pervert Turner likes sex, any kind of sex. He'll 
fuck anything with a body, animate or inanimate.

***

I never thought it would ever happen to me, but it did. 
Mom hooked up with her local pussy-of-the-month-club 
(That's what I secretly called the local "Woman's 
Club.") and they decided to have a cook-off.

I imagined that some of those trophy wives would concoct 
some form of botulism that would turn everyone green. 
You see, my mom and dad are a part of the yuppie class 
where Mercedes, Lexus, BMW autos decorate their front 
lawns and degrees from the elite Harvard, Yale and 
Princeton class hug the walls of every home. If you 
weren't part of that club-scene you weren't human.

Anyway, that's beside the point. What is to the point? 
The chance to be alone with my baby brother Jason.

Mom had spent the better part of her day shopping for 
the cook-off buying all sorts of crap that would keep 
her busy-giving me time to have a little fun.

"You'll have to watch the baby," she told me. "If I 
don't get this dish prepared the girls will just laugh 
at me!"

Who gave a rat's ass? Mom is a brown-noser. She'll do 
anything to gain favor of people that would stab her in 
the back at first chance. But, like a fool, she follows 
close behind.

My dad. What can I say about him? The prick is never 
home. He lives his life in the courts, therefore, as 
always, law is pure bullshit, so I won't bother you with 
his story.

As for me, I'm Turner Boyd, son of Ruth and Harold Boyd. 
I'm thirteen-years-old with a dick that lusts after 
release and my lusts seems to grow more fierce by the 
day and my only way to quell my unhealthy urges is to 
sit on the john and yank my brains out. No matter how 
bad things may get, whether I'm in school or at home, 
once my dangling, hairless partner (for life) awakens, 
it needs a massage.

It's fun to dream up scenarios where I get to do 
anything I want: rape, beat and perhaps even murder the 
victims in my mind; but always returning from the scene 
of the crime with no real victims and no manhunts for 
predators.

But now that mom was up to her eyeballs in all kinds of 
food ingredients, I'd have my chance with my baby 
brother... and I don't mean in my mind's eye.

Jason is about to turn one in a week, so his inability 
to squeal on me makes him perfect, and what's more, 
he'll never remember the good time he's gonna give me -- 
although it may only last just a few minutes. I figured 
it was better to do my little brother than some small 
boy or girl out on the streets. I'd been riding around 
on my bicycle looking at all the helpless little kids in 
my neighborhood and wondering what it would be like to 
take one of them. But I always stopped myself at the 
last minute.

In order to make her dish (God only know what it'll be), 
mom needed black olives and when she went on her 
shopping trip, she forgot them. "I'll be back in a short 
bit," she had said.

Well, that should be plenty of time to have a little fun 
with my baby brother, but not enough time to really let 
myself go. I know, I know. You're probably thinking to 
yourself, what the hell can you do in ten to fifteen 
minutes without getting caught? I could try butt-fucking 
Jason, but that would leave evidence of sperm and a 
swollen rectum... or I could cock-feed him and make him 
drink several squirts of my jizz. I'm sure Jason could 
handle my spunk in his belly with no ill effect.

As mom backed her Lincoln sedan out of the drive, I 
fingered my bulging crotch. Even though my dick is uncut 
and small, it should be just perfect for Jason. The 
extra foreskin on it would make for a tantalizing treat 
in a baby's mouth. Babies love to suck anything that'll 
fit between their lips and I think my brother just might 
enjoy me inside him.

Quite frankly, I would enjoy the fact that he would have 
some of my come in his belly. Once mom got home, she may 
just smile at her baby son who has just swallowed her 
eldest son's seed.

Once the Lincoln was out of sight I wasted no time.

Baby Jason lay quietly on the family room floor, 
squirming and cooing happily. I pulled my shirt off and 
unbuckled my belt, sliding my pants down to my knees, 
letting my stiff penis jut out. My cock already knew 
what I was going to do for it, so my little one-eyed 
fellow was eagerly awaiting, throbbing excitedly to my 
heartbeat.

I leaned over my brother, positioning my groin over his 
head, then letting my cockhead touch the soft slippery 
lips of a willing baby. The moment my foreskin made 
contact with Jason's mouth, I shuddered in pleasant 
surprise.

Jason took me into his small mouth and began sucking on 
me like a bottle, but he only had an eighth of an inch 
between his lips; that is until I started to apply a 
little pressure. I inserted as much of myself as I 
could-short of gagging or choking the little shit.

That little mouth of his tightened on me, and I could 
feel a gentle, but soothing sucking coming from him. I 
began to thrust ever so slightly, allowing my flesh to 
just slip in and out fractionally until my lust grew. 
Jason seemed to be a great sport. He never fussed about 
having his big brother in his mouth, but once the 
feeling of perverted hunger began to overwhelm me I 
entered an altered stated where every sound or vision 
ceased, only the sensations between my legs mattered.

Jason allowed the gentle rocking, but after a minute or 
two of thrusting my dick down Jason's throat, I began to 
feel the persistent need to rock in and out more 
aggressively. And the more aggressive I became, the more 
uncooperative Jason grew. I'm only glad the little 
bastard didn't have teeth, otherwise I'd be a tad more 
Jewish today.

Once I got a rhythm going, I didn't stop. I fucked 
Jason's little mouth with such a sublime enthusiasm that 
even Jason's cry failed to reach my ears. I was 
breathing hard, gasping and moaning-my asscheeks 
clenching uncontrollably -- toes flexing and beads of 
sweat glistening in the diffuse sunlight entering from 
the window. I was in heaven with every thrust.

I vaguely noticed that the force of my ramming hips was 
slowly pushing the baby forward, causing me to lose 
contact with Jason at times. Had I placed the little 
turd's head against the base of the couch or some other 
piece of furniture, Jason was apt to be bruised and the 
top of his skull redefined by my persistence.

Every time he shifted forward, I followed. I simply kept 
up with him as I continuously filled his mouth (which 
was now emitting an angry shriek). The feeling was 
glorious. My little brother had no choice but to 
pleasure my loins. It was fun. It felt so right and so 
good.

Jason cried as if I had just poured sulfuric acid over 
his face or something, but despite his displeasure, I 
continued fucking him until that tiny excess of cock-
flesh started to gag him, making him spew digested milk. 
I would stop for a few seconds, cleaning the mess with 
my t-shirt, then entering him once more.

I rammed my cock forward once more without caring, 
pushing as deep as I dared for several minutes, 
thrusting away in a crazed ecstasy, taking in the belly-
shuddering reverberation that flowed through me, while 
reminders of my not-so-distant-past came to mind.

*

I bet you're wondering where I got this perverted little 
game from. To be honest, it didn't get etched upon my 
brain by my dad the lawyer or some horny uncle seeking 
some Saturday night thrills; instead it was my best 
friend Lucas.

Lucas, a fairly decent student at Jefferson Jr. High, 
just couldn't settle the fire that was blazing in his 
pants. He was always talking to the guys about pussy or 
some ripe asshole belonging to some girl that he could 
poke, but I learned differently on one visit to his 
home.

By the way... did I mention that Lucas's father is a 
mortician and that their house is above the mortuary?

No?

Silly me. I guess I'm so wrapped up in my own pumping 
perversion that I failed to mention Lucas to you all. 
Franklin Abbot (Lucas's dad) always had business once 
someone died. And it turned out that once his mom and 
dad and the little sister went to bed, Lucas would creep 
down the stairs into the embalming room where he would 
have some fun.

On a late afternoon in the fall of that year, Lucas 
showed me what he enjoyed.

I joined him in the basement of The Abbot Brother's 
Mortuary while everyone was away. His dad-that day I 
believe-was most likely out scraping up some poor 
bastard off Highway 74 just off the turnpike, or out 
picking up a stiff at the county hospital. 

I was totally scared when Lucas took me down the stairs 
and into the embalming room. There, under a white sheet, 
lay the body of a young girl no older than maybe five. 
Lucas showed me the file of her death: Drowning. The old 
rock quarry had claimed her-and she wasn't the first.

She had been a cute blonde with blue lifeless eyes and a 
thinly form. Lucas pulled the sheet off of her and he 
spread her legs wide and said, "Watch this."

Although grotesque... and sort of enticing, I watched 
Lucas climb up on the stainless steel table. He splayed 
her legs even wider exposing that dead girl cunt. It was 
a thin line of pink paleness.

Lucas unzipped his pants-pulled down his boxers and 
exposed the stiffest cock I'd seen to date. I thought at 
one time that his dick would burst from the girth of his 
erection, but instead Lucas turned to me-grinning an 
evil grin-then turned to face that dead moppet on the 
slab and stuffed his cock into her and fucked her so 
hard that I was certain she would sit up and scream, but 
she didn't.

He pounded her lifeless body with impunity until I could 
hear his labor making the cold steal table creak with 
every push of his body. Goddamn... if I were some 
moralist, I would have picked up the phone and dialed 
911, but I am no moralist. Lucas taught me that sex, 
with anyone is fun, especially if they're dead. Lucas 
raped that dead girl and he didn't stop until he blew 
his load in her.

After he was done, he offered me a chance to take the 
same ride, but instead, being a pussy about exposing my 
dick size for Lucas to make fun of, I passed on the 
offer. But I never forgot that incident.

There were times when I spent the night at Lucas's 
house, waiting for THE RENT to fall asleep, so we could 
sneak down to the dead.

Lucas and I made our way downstairs, passing two 
separate chapels on the way toward the basement.

This time the corpse was a twenty-two-year-old male that 
had been killed riding a motorcycle. He'd broken his 
neck, which had been repaired with unpainted mortician's 
wax to hold everything at the right attitude.

Since there had been no pussy to fuck, Lucas made use of 
the late Darryl Morgan's mouth, which had not been wired 
shut or cemented. He fucked that man stuffing his cock 
relentlessly in and out of his throat until he blew his 
wad and the sperm drained freely down the dead man's 
throat; then Lucas would work up another erection and 
repeat the adventure.

Once my friend, a goodly boy of the school of 
necrophilia, finished squirting, he offered me a chance 
once more. Rather than stand by and watch, I decided to 
take a chance at being heckled. Why not? What would 
Lucas do? Run around school telling everyone that my 
cock is small and I have no hair around my nuts? Fuck 
no. I don't think he would. After all, everyone in 
school would truly believe me if I told how Lucas Abbot 
liked to fuck dead bodies in his father's embalming 
room. I could spell out the entire ordeal if push came 
to shove, but it didn't.

I boldly climbed onto that cold table and took my 
position over the late Darryl Morgan and allowed my cock 
to slide between his cold lips.

I jerked in terror when those lips and teeth  took hold 
of me that I nearly fell off that body and table; nearly 
shitting my pants in the process. Lucas had pressed the 
dead man's jaws together to give me the feel of a real 
blowjob. After recovering from the scare and continued 
on, I must say that it was rather convincing having 
Lucas pushing those lips together.

I stuffed that corpse's mouth all the way, riding him in 
uncertain jerks, but once my lust grew, I was oblivious 
of Lucas and I was now confident that he or the late Mr. 
Morgan would not give me grief over my size. I began 
thrusting with confident fervor, focusing on the 
darkened embalming room wall ahead of me, and forgetting 
all about  my best friend beside me, who was making Mr. 
Morgan's mouth wrap around my flesh.

It was weird as hell, being on top of a dead man, 
shoving my cock into his mouth, having his cold, dead 
lips sliding around my shaft. I don't know how long I 
was thrusting into that body, but the feeling of 
pleasure killed the fear that I had, and not even Lucas 
could pry my concentration from the glory I was 
experiencing.

I pumped fast and ruthless, never caring once at my 
reckless speed. I banged away: thrusting, hammering, 
pounding until I discovered that I was capable of 
actually producing an intermittent streams of sperm. I 
could feel the pearly strings hitting the congealing 
pool that was already backing up in Morgan's throat. It 
was like pissing in his mouth. I went full force, 
thrusting and fucking non-stop until Lucas had to pull 
me off that corpse.

When I finally was forced to stop, I realized that 
Darryl Morgan's mouth was flooded and trickles of semen 
leaked from the corners. I had enjoyed it so much that I 
fucked that corpse without noticing an hour had gone by 
and that my friend had watched me while he masturbated.

To this day, I still can't believe that I enjoyed sex 
with the dead. Since then, I made frequent stops at the 
Abbot house and sometimes I'd score, and other times I 
went home unsatisfied; only to jerk-off to the fantasy.

Nevertheless, Lucas taught me that no matter who or 
what, fucking was priceless. Whether it was your family 
dog or a little brother or sister: all provided great 
satisfaction.

Since those days of sex with the dead,  I've had dreams 
(both day and night) of getting laid by a body or a real 
person, and now that mom had to run to the market, Jason 
was my first, live source.

*

I rammed much the way I had fucked the dead bodies of 
the past, thrusting without care into my little 
brother's mouth, shoving my organ deep, stifling his 
cries until the orgasmic urge continued to assault me, 
but each time I nearly came, I withdrew-making sure that 
I would save my climax for the grand finale.

I pumped Jason's face, breathless with each barrage of 
my hips, determined to unleash the hell from my balls 
and just as I could hear the sound of mom's Lincoln 
pulling back into the driveway, my cock began to pulse; 
the tingling of electricity surging through my dick so 
fierce that when the sperm came flowing into Jason's 
mouth, the front door opened. It would have been worth 
getting caught just to feel warm lips (for a change) 
around my dick, really sucking me off.

Mom walked into the house carrying a bag of groceries. 
She didn't bother to inquire about us, so I allowed my 
cock to deliver the creamy-white fluid into my baby 
brother while mom laid the bag on the kitchen counter, 
and I continued on.

The strings of life spurted out like string cheese, 
coating Jason's tongue and throat. It was fantastic. 
Every squirt that shot into him was shoved down into his 
throat, but as the last of my orgasm faded, I pulled 
myself out of Jason and I grabbed my clothes.

Jason made a furious clamor when he managed to work the 
gooey come down; then again, Jason always bawled for the 
tiniest of reasons. I had enough time to get dressed and 
to pick the little spawn up-making it look like I had 
been trying to quiet the little bastard down.

It was close.

Just as I picked him up, mom walked in, "Is everything 
alright?"

"It sure is." I said. "I guess he didn't like the milk 
he got."

"Really?" She said. She picked up Jason's plastic 
bottle, unscrewed the top, and then smelled it. "Smells 
alright to me. Maybe he's just full."

"Maybe he needs to be burped," I said. If only mom knew 
that the baby had just had a meal of brotherly DNA, 
she'd freak.

Oh well. Mom is a fucking egghead. She never had a clue. 
I guess that's in my best interests. Hopefully, in the 
coming days, mom and dad will trust me to watch Jason 
for longer spells, allowing me to have better pleasures; 
and I'm quite sure Jason will get used to the flavor of 
my seed.

Maybe next time I'll piss down his throat and take a 
shit on his face. That would be interesting. Of course, 
I'd have to wipe the shit from that cute face, but the 
mere thought of what I could do would later send me to 
the bathroom where I would unload more sperm on the cool 
tile floor.

It makes me think back to an old quote where Andy Warhol 
said, "Everyone has fifteen minutes."

Today, I had mine, and as of this hour, in mom's arms, 
Jason is being patted on the back, burping the sperm 
that he swallowed. I'm glad it was mine. I can hardly 
wait for the next time I have Jason, and I hope that 
it's soon.

For now, I'll have to visit Lucas Abbot's home until my 
babysitting services are required, but until then, I'll 
be thinking hard about my next fifteen minutes.

The End