J.O. Dickingson

Brewster Adventures

Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet Meet the Brewster Boys

Sinterklaas Special Table of Contents

Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet
Meet the Brewster Boys

5 December 1999

This is a story involving four brothers, two preteens and two recently turned fourteen-year-olds, helping out a recently immigrated young Dutch boy deal with an elementary school bully and celebrate his heritage. It is a heartwarming, tender, pecker-throbbing, loving story of devoted brothers punishing the wicked and rewarding the good.

This is a standalone story, the fiftiest of the Brewster Boys Series, and chronologically occurs after the ninth story, A Brewster Thanksgiving. Comments and gifts of pepernoten, chocolate and horny young Dutch boys can be sent to the author, J.O. Dickingson, at authorsix(at)hotmail(dot)com who suggests one of your New Year's resolutions be to always practice safe sex

Posted on PZA: 28 November 2013

— tt tb bb —
11,000 words (22 pages)

"Hey cheesemonger, what did you bring me for dessert today?"

Anton pushed the neatly wrapped napkin across the table. Fat Scott Hurd eagerly unwrapped it and his pig-like eyes glinted with joy. Sinking his teeth into the cream-filled pastry, a look of pleasure passed over his face. Laughing at the hapless boy and dribbling crumbs, he purposefully knocked over his glass of milk and turned and looked about for someone else to bully.

Bobby quickly righted the glass up and grabbed the napkin and his own and began mopping up the spilt milk.

"Thanks."

"Someone needs to teach that fat bully a lesson," Bobby observed, glaring after their obnoxious classmate. "He used to take my sandwiches all the time until I started the rumour that I spit in them before lunch."

Anton giggled. "You don't really, do you? Spit in them that is."

"No," the ten-year-old replied with a grin, "but Scott don't know that."

Anton giggled again. "That was a funny trick you and your brothers pulled on him during the Thanksgiving play, putting hair cuttings in his shorts when you helped him put on his turkey suit so he'd get all itchy and couldn't do nothing about it."

Bobby laughed as he thought about Scott squirming in his hot suit and trying to do something about his itchy crotch.

"Putting that fart thing on Mrs. Spier's chair was even funnier."

"Yeah, well, that was to pay her back for making the big fuss when I burped in the cafeteria and giving me a big lecture on manners in front of everyone and embarrassing me."

"Well, you sure embarrassed her," Anton laughed as he thought of their grade five teacher sitting down and the loud fart noise that came from her. The whole class had laughed but she didn't think it so funny. She threatened to keep the whole class in after school unless someone confessed. Bobby admitted that it was he who had put what he called a whoopee cushion, which he said was one of his father's gag gifts, on her chair. "But aren't you afraid of being punished?"

"Naw, it was just a joke, and like I said, it served her right," Bobby said with a shrug. "And even if I get detention or somethin' that's no big deal. It will be worth the laugh it got. And if she sends a note home, Dad won't really do nothin'. It was his gag gift after all."

Anton VanderMark was enthralled with his ten-year-old classmate Bobby Brewster, and he was not the only one. The little prankster kept everyone in their class laughing and he was always full of fun and joking. He was daring too, doing things that the other boys would only dare think of doing, and honest besides. A lot of guys would have never owned up to pulling that trick on their teacher and would have let the whole class suffer rather than take the punishment. Bobby was not that sort. He had also befriended Anton, who had moved to Crestview Heights the end of summer, showing him around the school and the neighbourhood and informing him what was cool and what was not, and which students and teachers to look out for, like the bully Scott Hurd and their caretaker Sven Bjornson who was crabby and mean and didn't like kids. Bobby said he got off causing others pain, whatever that meant. Sometimes Bobby said things his classmates didn't quite understand, never mind someone whose first language wasn't English. Another thing that endeared Bobby to Anton was that he didn't make fun about the way he spoke and was even helping him speak English better, including English swears, and he in return was teaching Bobby how to speak Dutch, including swears of course.

"I didn't mean punished at school or by your parents."

"Punished by whom then?"

"Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet."

"Cinder claws and who?"

"Sinterklaas, and Zwarte Piet."

"Who the fuck are they?" the ten-year-old asked.

"Everyone in the Netherlands knows who they are. Sinterklaas wears bishop's clothes because he was once a bishop, and he comes by ship from Madrid in Spain in November and travels around to the schools and hospitals and churches and malls and stuff giving candy and treats, like Mandarin oranges and pomegranates, to all the good boys and girls. On Sinterklaasavond before you go to asleep you leave a carrot or an apple or hay in your shoe for his horse, and if you have been good he puts candy and a big chocolate letter, the first letter of your name, in your shoe, and maybe a surprise present. Zwarte Piet is a black teenager who helps him. There are different stories about who he is exactly. My grampa says his grampa told him he used to be a slave until Sinterklaas found him in a market and gave him his freedom and now he travels with him in gratitude for being freed. He listens in at chimneys to learn if boys and girls are good or bad and tells Sinterklaas. If they are bad, they get a bundle of birch branches in their shoe or a lump of coal, and if they are really bad they spank them with a roe, a chimney sweep's broom made from willow branches, and carry them off in a burlap sack to Spain, where Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet live, to work in workhouses."

"He gives out candy and presents, and leaves a chocolate letter in your shoe?" asked Bobby, immediately interested and zeroing in on what was the important part, for a ten-year-old anyway.

"Oh yeah. And in the Netherlands we have a big parade when he comes to town. He rides a big white horse and there are many Zwarte Pieten who walk along beside him and toss out pepernoten or kruidnoten, and strooigoed, which are real good special sinterklaas candies. And then there is a big feast where everyone brings their best food and tons of pies and special cookies, like speculaas, and cakes and stuff."

He didn't understand most of the words but he got the general idea and that was enough to endear Bobby to this fellow Sinterklaas and his weird companion. As for the spanking and being carted off to Spain in a sack, well, that only happened to naughty kids, and the things he did really weren't that bad. At supper that evening when his mother and father asked him and his three older brothers what happened at school that day, he told them about Scott Hurd and what Anton had told him about what they did in the Netherlands. The note from Mrs. Spiers for his dad saying he could pick up his 'toy' when he came to talk to her he would give his father at the right moment, which was when he was in a good mood, like just before bed when his father would be thinking about going to bed also, to do what adults did in bed, which put him in a happy mood and he wouldn't want to take time punishing his son.

"Actually that's in the paper tonight," Barry Brewster observed.

"About Scott Hurd bullying Anton?" asked Bobby in surprise.

"No, about the tradition of Sinterklaas. Well, mostly about Zwarte Piet. It has created quite a controversy."

"How come?" the four boys asked.

"Apparently this year the Dutch community in Crestview Heights wanted to have a parade, like they do in Holland."

"I thought that was in the Netherlands," Bobby interrupted.

"Holland is another name for the Netherlands," his older brother Brent explained as he pushed back his long blond hair, which like his twin's, was down to his shoulders. He and his brother took after their mother Brenda in looks, including her blue eyes. They stood five feet [1.50 m] tall and weighed a hundred and one pounds [46 kg] and some of the boys teased them and said they looked like girls, but they didn't mind. They knew the girls thought their looks and bods were hot. Anyway, Brent was really interested in geography and stuff.

"Well," continued their father, "they apparently approached the mayor and town council and it was a tie vote. Half of them thought it was an innocent celebration for children and would be good for the community and for Crestview Heights as it would bring in tourists and encourage spending. Besides, everyone likes a parade. But the other half complained that Zwarte Piet, or Black Peter as he is known in English, is a stereotype that celebrates slavery and is derogatory toward black people."

"What is a stereotype?" asked Bobby.

"That's where you have a mould made of type and use it to make a cast of a metal plate in type metal," explained his older brother Benny, an exact copy of his younger brother and who was an authority on anything to do with models and crafts.

"That's right," said his father, appreciating the diverse knowledge of his boys and their interest in the dinner conversation, which wasn't always the case. "But in this use, it means portraying a person or group according to a fixed, conventional picture, like they were made from a mould."

"Oh," said Bobby as he tried to visualize how you made a person from mould. He really hadn't understood what either his brother or his father had said, but since neither had anything to do with candy or presents it really wasn't that important.

"So if it was a tie vote, doesn't the mayor cast the deciding vote?" asked the boy's mother, Brenda.

"Yes. And that was the problem. Mayor Maartens being of Dutch descent himself, everyone thought that he'd vote for the parade, but apparently Ibrahim Nejrue got wind of what was going on-."

"Got wind?" interrupted Bobby again, this time with an impish grin as he thought about his dad's whoopee cushion.

"Not that type of wind," Benny said with a giggle. "Got wind of means he heard about."

"Oh," said Bobby, disappointed. His dad's story sounded like it was finally starting to get interesting.

"Anyway," continued Barry, "Nejrue started up a petition against the parade, or even having any type of celebration. He says this Black Peter character is based on an old stereotype of what black people look like and is prejudicial. As a black person himself, and one of the few in Crescent Heights, he knows about prejudice first hand in his homeland of Sudan and here in America, and is particularly sensitive about it. He has gotten some very influential people to sign his petition, including James Forsythe, who many say is eyeing the governorship next election, which is likely why he has an opinion at all on this matter and knows coming out against prejudice is a sure vote getter regardless if there's any prejudice there at all. Mayor Maartens is no fool either. Damned if he-darned if he does," he corrected as Brenda glared at him and his four sons' ears perked up, "and darned if he doesn't, he's been sitting on the fence until now."

"That's got to be uncomfortable," whispered Bobby behind his hand.

"Especially if it is a picket fence," Benny agreed with a whisper behind his hand also and the four boys laughed as an image of their pompous mayor sitting with a picket up his ass came to their mind.

"Boys, you know what the rule is about whispering at the supper table."

"Sorry," the four boys responded in unison.

"Anyway, you know our mayor. He'll vote whichever way he figures will be best for him, and right now the rich and powerful have a lot more weight than the Dutch community, so it's no surprise which way he voted."

"There's no parade?" asked Bobby disappointedly.

"Not likely."

"And no candy?" he asked even more disappointedly

"No candy."

"Aww, fu-, fu-, fu-…"

"Fu'crying out loud," interjected his brother Benny to help his brother out.

"For goodness sake," suggested his brother Brett.

"Fortuitous it won't be, for the Dutch," contributed their brother Brent who was the smartest of the four brothers and loved to read, among other things. His parents and three brothers stopped eating and looked at him. "Well, he could have been planning on saying that," he said looking at them all with wide-eyed innocence.

"You know what we've said about finishing your brother's sentences," Brenda admonished them. "He's not going to get over his stuttering if you do that. Give him a chance to say what he intended on saying."

The four brothers glanced at each other. If Bobby said the word he was going to say, their mother was not going to like that!

"What were you going to say, dear?" Brenda asked consolingly. The four boys wished she hadn't asked that.

"Ah, ah, ah…"

"Ah don't know," suggested Brett.

"Awful," contributed Benny.

"Boys," warned Brenda as Brent opened his mouth.

"Sorry Mom," the four said, even Bobby, who had not done anything wrong, purely out of habit.

"That's really too bad, about the petition," Brent observed, hoping to distract his mother and get his kid brother off the hook. "Sounds like it would have been a lot of fun. This Sinterklaas sounds a lot like Santa Claus."

"Actually, they think that is where the idea of Santa Claus comes from," Barry said.

"The idea?" asked Bobby, raising his right eyebrow just like his father did.

"Yeah, what do you mean idea?" asked Benny, his eyebrow moving up like his kid brother's.

"Santa's an idea?" asked Brent and Brett together.

"Ah, ah, ah…"

"Uh-oh, Dad's caught Bobby's stuttering."

"You can't catch stuttering."

"You can't?"

"No, it's inherited, I think, isn't it, Dad?"

"There are many reasons for stuttering," Brenda advised, having researched the problem ever since her youngest began to stutter, especially when he got excited, and especially she noticed for words beginning with f and sh.

Barry said nothing, glad to have the conversation switch to another topic. He had been sure last Christmas that Bobby had come to realize that Santa was a nice myth, and he had been certain his older sons had concluded that years earlier and had just been going along with things for the sake of their kid brother. Since last Christmas, for some strange reason, the boys now all seem completely convinced that he was very real, and that was as worrisome as it was puzzling. It was not natural for boys their age to speak of Santa was if he was a very real person.

As they continued their supper, Bobby decided when they finished eating would be a good time to give his dad the note from his teacher, and then to switch the conversation over to what he meant about Santa being an idea. That would guarantee his dad would promptly forget about giving him a lecture or a punishment and would dismiss him as soon as he could to avoid answering the question.

The next day Bobby shared his father's news with Anton, who already knew about it, the newspaper article being a major discussion at his home. His grandparents, who had immigrated with the rest of the family, were particularly upset with the attack on the custom, and his kid brother and little sister were even more upset as they were accustomed to the parade and a big celebration back in the Netherlands. While they were talking, Scott Hurd approached their table. Bobby quickly grabbed Anton's dessert and slipped it under the table.

"Okay Dutch boy, I've come for my dessert."

"Your dessert?" asked Bobby. "I didn't know it was for you," he said, looking at Anton in surprise. "I ate it. But hey, here, you can have my pumpkin pie. My mom made it. It's got something extra special in it."

"He ate your dessert?" Scott asked, looking at Anton.

"Don't you want my pie?" asked Bobby loudly, knowing Anton was the type of boy who would never lie to anyone, even a bully. "You chicken or something to eat my pie?" he asked even louder. Chicken was a key trigger word for any grade five student.

"I don't want your pie," Scott said with a glare, his pig-eyes growing even smaller. It would just be like Brewster to eat the Cheesemonger's dessert to try to trick him into eating his, and it would be like him to have spit in it, or even worse, put a booger in it or something. Everyone knew the rumour. But if he didn't eat it, he'd look like a chicken. "Your mother makes crappy pie. I should know, I've eaten plenty of them," he said, having bullied Bobby many times into turning over his dessert and since everyone knew that, figuring by saying so he'd give them another reason for not taking Bobby's dessert than thinking he was chicken.

"Crappy?" asked Bobby, his eyes widening with surprise. "How'd you know that was what was special in it?"

Scott looked at him incredulously. He had to be putting him on.

"And you say you've eaten plenty of them?" Bobby asked, his eyes widening even more as he twisted his face in disgust.

His plan having backfired and his face red with anger and embarrassment, Scott did the only thing he could do. He marched off. Behind his back, Bobby and Anton exchanged grins and high-fived.

"Someone should tell Zwarte Piet about Scott," grumbled Anton. "He deserves to be spanked with a broom."

"And carted off to Spain," agreed Bobby. "Everyone would be a lot happier if he were." He put Anton's dessert back on the table. "What did you bring anyway?"

"An appelbeignet, an apple fritter," Anton said, unwrapping the sugar-coated fritter.

"Wanna share desserts?" Bobby asked hopefully.

That night Bobby shared what had happened that day with his brothers and thought about the Dutch celebration and thwarting Scott Hurd at lunch as he dropped off to sleep. The idea of gifts and chocolate and candies and getting even with bullies, especially Scott Hurd, were pleasant thoughts to drop off to sleep with.

Sinterklaasavond arrived before they knew it. Although there was no parade and no fanfare or advertising, the Dutch community held their own celebration in the community hall with a potluck supper and a visit from Sinterklaas (Anton's grandfather) and Zwarte Piet (Mayor Maartens's fifteen year old son Danny, complete with blackface, ruby red lipstick lips, a frizzy wig, and a colourful medieval page boy costume.) The good Mayor knew he had lost potential future votes with his decision and did his best trying to explain why he had to vote against the parade, for the betterment of the whole town, and trying to impress on his fellow Dutch-American citizens that he really did support the old traditions. Paying for the hall rental out of his own pocket and having his very own son dress up as Black Peter went a long way to mending fences as it were, and when it came to politics and the good of the family, his son Danny fully understood even if he did look ridiculous. There were perks being the son of the mayor. At least it was in private behind closed doors.

Or so he thought. He did not realize that Bobby Brewster was there, a guest of Anton and his family, with a cell phone happily snapping pictures in the off chance he or his brothers might find some use for them in the future. Handsome, popular, always wearing the best and most expensive clothes, snobbish, pompous, and condescending, Danny Maartens thought he was God's gift to everyone, just the type that the Brewster brothers liked to take down a notch. He was also damn good-looking, even with his blackface and large lipstick lips, just the type of boy Bobby and his brothers would love to get it on with.

Stuffing themselves until they were sure they would burst, most of the dishes Bobby having no clue what they were but trusting Anton's lead and finding them delicious, the two boys happily returned to Anton's home where Bobby had been given permission to have a sleep over even though it was a Sunday night, his parents feeling it was the least they could do to welcome their new immigrant neighbours and show they were not among those who were offended by their customs.

Feigning tiredness, the two boys went off to bed almost as soon as they arrived home. Anton's parents and grandparents smiled at each other, thinking the boys figured going to bed early would hasten the visit by Sinterklaas. The two boys set out two pair of wooden shoes at the foot of the bed, Anton having borrowed a pair for Bobby, and put an apple in one and a carrot in the other. Stripping off their clothes, instead of putting on their pajamas, the two boys quickly put on the colourful costumes the two had spent hours making that afternoon and donned frizzy black wigs, mementos from past Sinterklaas parades brought over from the Netherlands. Blacking their faces and hands with black shoe polish and painting their lips with bright red lipstick, they bunched up the sheets on Anton's bed to look like they were laying there and snuck out of the window of the bedroom and headed over to Scott Hurd's.

Scott's father worked for Packwell Poultry Farms and he and Scott's mother operated a catering business besides. Scott had bragged to everyone about the big catering job his parents had that night for Forsythe Enterprises, one of the biggest and most successful businesses in town. He bragged that it was just one of many company suppers that they were catering to that December, and that he was going to be staying up late as they were also providing the midnight snacks. That was perfect for Bobby's plans. Not only did that meant Scott and his kid brother Carson would be home without their parents, but as luck would have it, they were going to be babysat by Kazim Nejrue, Ibrahim Nejrue's sixteen-year-old son, who according to Anton and his parents, had been just as vocal as his father about condemning the Sinterklaas celebration and all Dutch people in general. The two of them together meant they would, as Bobby had told Anton, be getting two birds with one stone. He explained what that meant as they hurried over to Scott's house.

Unbeknownst to the two boys, Bobby's twelve-year-old brother Benny had made his own plans for that evening. He didn't know the VanderMarks, or any Dutch people for that matter, but he knew what was right and wrong, and stopping people from having some good-natured fun was wrong, as was bullying. An avid fan of Star Wars movies and Marvel hero comics, he decided he would avenge the VanderMarks and all Dutch people as any well-meaning hero would do. When he heard from Bobby the situation regarding Scott Hurd and Kazim Nejrue, his wild imagination took off.

First he managed to convince his parents to let him sleep over with his best friend Justin Fording, which was not an easy task as his parents frowned on sleep overs on Sundays if there was school the next day. In fact he almost had to resort to plan B, knocking his parents out with sleeping pills, when his kid brother made the breakthrough, convincing them to let him sleep over with Anton VanderMark. From there it was easy to play the guilt-trip-you-like-Bobby-better card to convince them to let him have a sleep over also. Of course he had no intention of sleeping over with Justin. He instead planned on visiting Scott Hurd and Kazim Nejrue and teaching them a lesson. Exactly what he was going to do after avenging the downtrodden Dutch until school the next morning he had no idea, not having thought that far ahead, but the recently turned twelve-year-old was sure he'd come up with some idea. It was a minor detail for a hero off on a mission of good

So, stopping in the alley behind Scott's house, he opened up his overnight bag which instead of pajamas and a toothbrush, contained his costume for the night. Being in the Crestview Heights Junior High School Drama Club, getting a costume was easy. Selecting a burgundy and orange jester's costume, a pair of buccaneer boots, and a large floppy hat with a purple feather, he figured it looked like what a medieval page would look like. Slipping the black frizzy wig over his carefully coiffured locks, Benny always wearing his dark brown hair in the latest style, which at the moment was spiked with blond highlights, he applied the blackface he'd borrowed from the drama club to his face and hands, painted his lips as best he could, wondering how girls managed to get it so smooth and even. Picking up the gunny sack and the witch's broom, also borrowed from the drama club, he practised a few snarls and angry glares in the hand mirror. He was going to make a damn good Zwarte Piet!

The twins, Brent and Brett, who had turned fourteen only three days earlier, had their own plans for the evening and could not believe their good luck. Their kid brothers having somehow managed to convince their parents to let them sleep over at a friend's house solved the problem how they were going to slip out of the house without their kid brothers knowing. As for their parents, that was easy. At supper they slipped a Viagra pill in their dad's coffee, and by the time the meal was over he was already fidgeting in his chair and sporting a boner, which he was trying desperately but unsuccessfully to hide. Bobby fortunately had already left and Benny seemed preoccupied with something, which was not unusual for their middle brother, otherwise the two would have surely noticed their father's condition and would surely have changed their minds and wanted to stay home to spy on him. So, when Brent and Brett announced that they had worked hard on a major homework assignment all afternoon and were exhausted and planning on going to bed early that night, their father was only too happy to see them head off to their bedroom, and headed Brenda off to their bedroom moments after the bedroom door to the boys' room closed. She knew that look in her husband's eyes, and was not about to question why and was only too happy with their sons' news also.

So, while their dad was humping their mom, they quickly changed into their costumes. Being a history fanatic, Brent had thoroughly researched Zwarte Piet, the Moors, and medieval pages, and had come up with the perfect costume as far as he was concerned. As for how he converted his design into the real thing, it was, as his twin brother put it, sheer genius. He remembered four years ago having a presentation in his elementary school history class by a couple who were into the medieval period, going to fairs in the summer and engaging in sword play and dressing up like they did. Searching through the school papers his brothers teased him for keeping, he found the brochure they had handed out and phoned them, and was delighted they were still living in Crestview Heights and involved in medieval fairs, and they were delighted a young teenager like himself was interested.

In a matter of days, the wife had sewn up the costumes, and she and her husband had Brent and Brett over and had them strip and try them on for adjustments. She had even sewn medieval underwear so when they said strip, they meant right down to bare balls. The two boys were not ashamed of what God had given them, and in fact, He had been particularly generous, a Brewster trait, and they were quite proud of it. It was a bit weird stripping down in front of a woman, but that in itself was an enticing idea for two normal, lusty fourteen-year-old boys. On top of it, the couple charged them nothing. Of course the boys did not realize it, but they had paid. The couple were into other things besides medieval times, and one of them was adolescent boys. The hidden cam they had installed before the boys' arrival and strip act would provide them with many hours of pleasure. As for the rest of the costume, the local Dollar Store had a huge inventory of frizzy wigs and birch brooms having speculated they would be a hot item when they heard about the plans by the Dutch community. Needless to say the mayor, Ibrahim Nejrue, James Forsythe and half the city council were not in their favourite books.

Fully dressed, the two Zwarte Pieten paused at their parent's bedroom door and slowly and carefully opened it a crack and peaked in. They could have thrown it wide open and marched inside the bedroom to the sound of trumpets and drums. Barry and Brenda Brewster were much too occupied to notice anything around them. When the two boys crept out of the house half an hour later, the bulge in their medieval underwear made it very difficult to walk. They knew they need not worry about staying out late the way their parents were going at it. If they weren't still fucking when they got back they'd be dead to the world with exhaustion.

Meanwhile, having scouted out the house, Bobby and Anton slipped in through the front door and crept downstairs to the family room where they had seen Scott and Kazim watching a movie on television and munching on popcorn and drinking sodas, Scott's kid brother Caron already being sound asleep in his upstairs bedroom. The whole idea of the two ten-year-olds was that they would frighten the two boys and maybe even spank them with the straw broom they had brought from Anton's home. If they were really scared, maybe they'd even have Scott promise to never bully anyone again, and Kazim to promise to change his dad's mind about a parade next year, and maybe even beg them not to throw them in a sack, which Bobby had located in his family's camping stuff and had also brought with them, and take them to Spain.

Leaping into the family room, Anton brandishing the broom and Bobby the sack, Bobby announced that they had come to take the two boys back to Spain for all their naughty deeds, speaking in what he figured was his scariest voice and using his best Dutch accent, copying how Anton's grandfather spoke. Anton followed suit, looking at the two boys angrily and shaking his broom. It was difficult for them to make a ten-year-old's soprano voice scary, and Anton spoke with such a thick Dutch accent and Bobby in such a strange one neither Scott nor Kazim were sure what it was that the two boys had said.

One thing they did know was that these two were no Zwarte Pieten, and instead of acting frightened, they decided to chase the two intruders and show them what happened to people who stepped into the house uninvited and made threats. Glancing at each other in real fright, the boys' eyes widened and their faces would have gone pale had it not been for the shoe polish. Bobby had been in situations like this before and acted on instinct. He gave Kazim a swift kick between the legs, causing him to double up, and made a beeline up the steps with Anton fast behind after having given Scott a whack on the head with his broom before making his escape. Bobby had planned on heading straight for the front door but in the dark and in a strange home, he headed the wrong direction and found himself in the huge commercial kitchen. Grasping his crotch in pain, Kazim stumbled after him. Separated from Bobby, Anton meanwhile had turned in the other direction and found himself in the main floor living room.

Not being very fast on his feet and dizzy with the whack to the head, Scott was slower in giving chase but spotted the direction Anton had headed and followed him. Kazim meanwhile was chasing Bobby around the island in the middle of the kitchen, and Bobby was making a clatter of noise grabbing pots and pans and anything else he could grab on the run and tossing them in the teenager's path. Grabbing a pair of tongs hanging by the stove, he turned and made a lunge for Kazim's crotch and successfully gave him a pinch where it hurt the most before the teenager twisted the tongs out of his hand. Spinning around, Bobby made a B-line for the hallway. Meanwhile, Scott chased Anton around the sofa a couple times and then back into the hallway where the two were joined by Bobby and Kazim. At that moment the front door opened and a third Zwarte Piet stepped into the house, this one three inches [8 cm] taller and twenty pounds [10 kg] heavier.

Seeing his escape route blocked, Anton dashed up the stairs two at a time with Scott huffing and puffing behind him. Seeing his buddy being pursued, Bobby brushed past the new Zwarte Piet and up the stairs after Scott, leaving Benny to confront the angry and bewildered teenager swinging a pair of tongs at him menacingly. The twelve-year-old did the first thing that came to his mind, he swung his broom up at the advancing teenager's crotch. Kazim instantly dropped his hand before his crotch to prevent a third attack on his privates and Benny seized the opportunity and tossed his sack over the sixteen-year-old's head and drew it down over his arms.

Dodging into the first room he came to, Anton found himself in Scott's bedroom. As the hundred-and-twenty pound [55 kg] ten-year-old barrelled in after him with Bobby hot on his heels, Anton leaped up on the bed and as Scott tackled him, leaped back off and back out the door. Bobby spun around and followed Anton and Scott barrelled back out the door and down the stairs after them as fast as his fat little legs would carry him. Benny by this time had leaped on Kazim's back and the teenager was spinning around and banging against the walls of the hallway trying to dislodge him. Again finding his escape route to the front door blocked, Anton fled back down the stairs to the basement, followed by Bobby and Scott. Spinning around blindly, Kazim tottered toward the stairs, causing Benny to leap off and pull the sack off Kazim, not wanting to see him fall down the stairs and break his neck or something. Deciding to follow Scott and the two pint-sized Zwarte Pieten, the twelve-year-old bound down the stairs two at a time. Finding himself at the edge of the stairs and dizzy from spinning around, Kazim half fell and half stumbled down after Benny, somehow managing to stay on his feet.

It was at that point that Brent and Brett finally arrived, stepping into the house just in time to see Kazim lurch down the steps to the basement. Deciding to follow and arriving at the family room, they found Scott panting and wheezing as he chased two four-foot-four [1.30 m] Zwarte Pieten around the sofa and a third Zwarte Piet with a witch's broom in a weird duel with Kazim brandishing for some reason a pair of kitchen tongs.

"What is going on?" asked one of the newly-arrived twin Black Peters.

"Indeed, what is going on?" asked a loud, deep voice that caused everyone to stop what they were doing and to spin around. There at the base of the stairs stood still another Zwarte Piet, this one the tallest and oldest, with large golden earrings and a floppy navy-blue hat with a large blue plume, and standing beside him the person who had spoken, a tall, impressive man with long, curly white hair, a huge white beard, and a curved shepherd's crook and wearing the red and white liturgical vestments of a cardinal, including the mitre.

"Who are you?" the six Zwarte Pieten asked, glancing at each other.

"Zwarte Piet," the six responded.

"Sinterklaas," responded the elderly man. Scott and Kazim were speechless.

"You're really Sinterklaas?" asked Bobby.

"Don't you even think of pulling my beard to be sure, Bobby Brewster."

"How do you know my name?"

"I know all your names," he said as he looked around at the seven boys, "and, if you have been naughty or good." For emphasis he tapped the large thick book he was carrying.

The seven boys glanced at each other.

"Oh yes, I know of all your pranks," he said raising his right eyebrow, "all of those from last Thanksgiving including putting hair clippings you know where, and this month the whoopee cushion, lying to your parents about having a sleep over, and slipping your dad Viagra tonight." He looked at each guilty party in turn. "And the daily bullying, and the glee you took in disappointing all the Dutch boys and girls in Crestview Heights," he added, looking at Scott and Kazim. That Anton was the only one of them not to receive a piercing look did not go unnoticed.

"You been listening in at the chimney," the Brewster boys accused the real Zwarte Piet.

"Chimney? You gotta be kidding. Today with the Internet and Facebook and Twitter, who needs to hang around chimneys in the dark and the cold?"

"Oh."

"We should really put the whole lot of you in the sack and take you all back to Spain."

"If you're going to take anyone, you should take Scott. He's the meanest," said Bobby.

"Yes, he's very bad," agreed Anton.

"He'd be perfect working in that Spanish factory pulling the wings off flies," added Bobby.

"Yeah, he wo-what?" asked Brent and Brett.

"He'd be perfect for the job pulling the wings and legs and . . . the antennae off flies."

"What flies?" asked everyone.

"Spanish flies," said Bobby. "He'd like grinding them up into powder too."

The boys and Sinterklaas all looked at the ten-year-old.

"What?"

"Where did you ever get that idea from?" asked Sinterklaas.

"Isn't that why you gather up naughty kids, to take them to factories in Spain to do nasty things, like pulling wings and legs off flies and grinding them up?"

"N-n-n-no," Sinterklaas replied perplexed.

"Oh. Then who does pull those wings and legs off those flies and grind them into powder?" asked Bobby.

"Which flies?" asked Sinterklaas again.

"Spanish flies," Bobby repeated

"Oh," said Benny, Brent and Brett as they realized what their kid brother was talking about.

"Just how is Spanish Fly made anyway?" Brent asked, turning to Sinterklaas.

"Ah, well, it's… Oh no, you're not going to distract us. We've come here for Scott."

"Me?" the boy squeaked as he tried to hide behind Anton, which was the equivalent of an elephant hiding behind a bunny.

"We know all about how you've been bullying your classmates and your kid brother," said Black Peter. The boy's face went white as he looked at the stylishly-dressed teenager. "As for you," he said, looking at Kazim. "We hadn't planned on it, but we might as well take you too."

"What did I do?"

"Upsetting all those little boys and girls getting our parade cancelled for one," said Sinterklaas. "This night is about rewarding the nice children also and many were looking forward to a few sweet treats."

"Yeah, that was real nasty," agreed Bobby. "So you really do give out gifts of chocolate?" he asked brightly.

"To good boys and girls. You forget, we know all about your tricks," reminded Black Peter.

"Though we do know your heart is in the right place, and you only play pranks on those who deserve it. Like Scott here," Sinterklaas observed.

"But enough talking," Black Peter said. "We got more naughty children to gather up tonight."

"Wait a minute," said Brent as Black Peter reached for Scott. "Scott's parents are going to be upset when they come home and find him gone. Kazim's too for that matter. In fact it will probably make his father even more insistent on abolishing Sinterklaasavond."

"You do have a point there," agreed Black Peter.

"Besides, we got nibs on them," spoke up Benny.

"Yeah, we got here first," agreed Bobby.

"So, what did you plan on doing?" Sinterklaas dared to ask.

"You really know about all the things we've done?" Brent asked. Sinterklaas and Black Peter nodded solemnly. "Well then," he began in a conspiratorial voice as he drew them near and began to whisper. Knowing the four brothers, neither was surprised by what he said.

Scott and Kazim, on the other hand, were greatly surprised as they found themselves bent over the two living room sofa chairs with their trousers and underwear about their ankles. One by one, starting with Anton and then proceeding by age, the others stepped forward and gave their naked butts a whack with their broom, even Sinterklaas who had zero tolerance when it came to bullying and was sincerely angry about Kazim and others curtailing the fun of his followers. By the time they had each taken two turns the boys' butts were glowing a bright red. Well, Scott's was. Kazim's black ass was more of the tone of a black cherry.

"Now that you are both nicely warmed up," Benny said menacingly and with an impish smirk as he glanced at his brothers and began to untie his breeches as Kazim watched in puzzlement. The black teenager had no idea what the twelve-year-old could possibly have in mind, but young Scott Hurd did and the youngster's eyes widened in apprehension. Only ten days ago, at the school's Thanksgiving play, the Brewster brothers had tied up him and Solomon Nejrue, Kazim's twelve-year-old brother, and given them a soapy enema and then the four had taken turns fucking them. It had been a terrifying, humiliating experience ending with the twins goosing them with cobs of corn while Bobby masturbated Scott, and Benny masturbated Solomon. It being the boys' first sexual experience, although traumatic, it had also been exciting and physically pleasing so when the brothers stopped masturbating them they continued to fuck the boys' fists, thereby also riding the ears of corn, in a desperate rush to satisfy the lust that had risen in their loins.

So it was that the ten-year-old looked at Benny with a mixture of eagerness and dread. Not a night had gone by that he hadn't relived the experience of that night, waking up in terror at the memory of being trussed up and abused, but also waking up with a little stiffie with the memory of the unique and hitherto unknown pleasure of having his ass fucked and his little penis stroked, and the awesome experience of his first orgasm.

"Hold on, I saw some liquid soap in the kitchen," called out Bobby as he dashed up the stairs, returning with a squeeze bottle in his hand and a huge grin on his face.

While he was gone, the twins had looked at Kazim and had glanced at each other and Brent had smiled at Brett and gestured toward the black teenager. Nodding his appreciation, Brett unlaced the front of his breeches and pushed aside his thong and withdrew his cock as he stepped up behind Kazim. Given his position and that of the approaching fourteen-year-old, Kazim caught on what was about to happen. Rape, not just of girls but of boys and men, was not an uncommon atrocity committed by soldiers in the civil war back in Sudan where he had been born, though he himself had never witnessed nor been a victim of such a perversion. But this was not Sudan. This was America, and he and his captors were not at war.

Scott tensed as Bobby stepped up behind him and wedged the nozzle between his ass cheeks and gave the container a squeeze. As the liquid soap squirted up his rectum, gooseflesh formed on his legs and arms as he recalled the enema he'd received on Thanksgiving day, and his little cocklet began to swell as he recalled the twins squirting their stuff up his rectum. As Bobby stepped up behind Kazim, he began to stand and was surprised when the old man moved faster than he thought an old man could and caught his neck in the curve of his shepherd's staff and pinned him back down. At the same time Zwarte Piet had given his tender backside a sharp smack that sent pain shooting through both cheeks with the warning more would come if he resisted. He lay there bent over the sofa in disbelief as the ten-year-old stepped up behind him, wedged the tip of the squeeze bottle in his anus, and squirted soap up his rectum.

By this time both Benny and Brett were erect and eager to begin. Stepping up behind Scott, twelve-year-old Benny positioned the tip of his stiff three and three-quarter inch [9½ cm] cock against the ten-year-old's soaped pucker and pushed forward. His slender dick easily entered the fat youngster's rectum and he pushed it up until his smooth, hairless pubes were pressed up against the fat boy's buttocks. At the same time, fourteen-year-old Brett had positioned his slender, uncut five-inch [13 cm] cock against the virgin opening of their sixteen-year-old captive and had slowly pushed his hips forward. Kazim fought but found himself effectively pinned down by the crosier. He could not believe this was happening. He was being violated by a junior high school pervert four years his junior! Things like that did not happen in America! As he reached behind him to push the boy off his butt was whacked again, and much harder, causing him to wince, and to stop struggling. Grasping the hips of the two boys, Benny and Brent began to slowly pump their hips to and fro, easing their stiff, aching cocks in and out of the two hot, soapy rectums.

Brent watched for a minute, and then removing and chucking his breeches and thong aside, he turned and looked up into the eyes of the real Zwarte Piet with a smile as he reached out and groped his basket. Weighing a hundred and one pounds and standing five feet tall, Brent had an attractive, slim body, his muscles having developed the definition that comes with puberty and an active athletic life but still having the soft contours of pre-adolescence. He was also a handsome boy with deep blue eyes and the Brewster high cheek bones, and his frizzy wig, blackened face and rouged lips made him even more attractive.

Being a healthy, lusty sixteen-year-old boy with an open attitude when it came to sex, Zwarte Piet could not resist the temptation and quickly removed and chucked aside his breeches and thong also. He was active and athletic himself, playing soccer and being an avid surfer back in Spain. Standing at five-foot-six [1.68 m] and weighing a hundred and twenty pounds [55 kg], he had strong, muscular legs and to Brent's delight, the beginning of six-pack abs with a narrow trail of hair that lead to a bush as thick and frizzy as the hair on his scalp. While Kazim was a brownish-black, Zwarte Piet was more the colour of burnt almond which Brent found particularly arousing. Even more to Brent's delight, the black teenager was very well-hung, his testicles the size of extra large hens' eggs and his black cock six inches [15 cm] and still hanging limply between his legs.

Brent immediately stepped forward and embracing the Spanish teenager, he kissed him hotly on the lips, and his kiss was hotly returned. He ran his hands up under the boy's jerkin and lace-trimmed shirt and shivered with the feel of his firm, solid, hairless chest. They kissed again and he ran his hands down over those developing six-back abs to cup his large balls and he rolled them in their sack. The horny white teenager by then was erect and his five-inch [13 cm] cock wagged with eagerness as he wrapped his fingers about the black teenager's cock and felt it swell in his hand until it too was firm and eager for action. Trembling with excitement and anticipation, Brent eagerly bent over to receive the seven inches [18 cm] of black meat.

Bobby meanwhile had motioned to Anton and his new friend followed him as he approached Sinterklaas. With everything going on around him, the former bishop could not resist the charms of this ten-year-old cupid, whose sexual antics he knew very well, and he allowed the two boys to remove his long red chasuble and raise his traditional white bishop's alb and red stola and pull down his underwear. Bobby immediately began to fondle the old man's cock and balls and to caress his thighs and Anton, in total awe at the boldness of his young friend, and a typical curious ten-year-old, copied Bobby's actions, touching for the first time in his life not just another male's private parts, but the privates of a man, and not just any man, but Sinterklaas!

Bobby's caresses were smooth and deliberate, the result of experience, and Anton's were tentative and light, this all being novel to him. The combination of being fondled by an experienced, horny young devil, exceedingly attractive and even more so in his blacked face and frizzy wig, and by the blond, blue-eyed, innocent angel who hadn't so much as inappropriately touched himself up until then, soon had the elderly man erect. Bobby crouched down and sucked on the man's right testicle and Anton followed Bobby's lead and crouched down and sucked on the left, tasting and smelling a man's fragrant, sweaty balls for the first time in his young life. The two boys nibbled on his now stiff cock and began to lick it from base to tip, causing it to jerk and wag with arousal. Bobby quickly grew stiff and Anton felt a stirring between his legs that was new to him, and exciting in a mysterious way. Bobby ran his tongue around the rim of the man's cock, which stood almost eight inches [20 cm] tall, causing it to leak a droplet of pre-cum. Lapping it up, he motioned for Anton to do the same and as the ten-year-old gave the rim of the man's deep purple-red knob a lick he was rewarded with a second droplet of precum. He stuck his tongue out tentatively upon the urging of his new friend, and his arms and legs turned to gooseflesh with his first taste of precum. A tendril of slime connected his painted lips and the tip of the elderly man's cock as he drew his lips away and his little cocklet began to rise.

By this time Zwarte Piet had sunk his long, thick, black cock up Brent's asshole and was fucking the recently-turned fourteen-year-old vigorously, the boy's hot, moist ass surprisingly tight given the number of times the teenage boy had been fucked, something that Black Peter was well aware of as Sinterklaas's informant on the behavior of youngsters around the world. He himself was no innocent and he knew very well the perversions of both boys and of men, and as an exceedingly handsome black boy he had received more than the average share of passes by men who liked boys. He had, however, never been enticed to follow up on those passes. Now as he pumped his throbbing cock in and out of the young teenager's asshole, he understood how it was that males desired the bodies of other males, and in particular how boys and men were hot for this particular youngster's hot, tight ass. He had long considered the boy naughty for engaging in this perverted act, along with other acts, and had been mystified why Sinterklaas had never expressed his own outrage regarding the blond teenager's behavior. As he worked his throbbing cock in and out of the boy's hot, moist rectum, he was beginning to understand why. What Brent was doing was actually a kindness for those who desired what he was offering, and actually it would have been naughty of him to deny them that pleasure.

Scott had thought about being fucked by the Brewster brothers every night for the past nine nights and that memory came back vividly as Benny's slender cocklet pumped in and out of his asshole. Scott began to open and close his anal sphincter, and automatically his peehole, as he recalled his first experience and tried to squirt seed that he was still too young to produce as he approached his orgasm. Having no such memories, Kazim had no idea what was happening nor what to expect as he felt a strange tension developing in his loins and an even stranger desire to pee as Brett's stiff cock pumped in and out of his ass. His anus burned with what was now not an unpleasant itch and his cock had swollen and was now stiff also, and the rim itching with the same strange half-pleasant and half-painful itch. Sinterklaas's blood-engorged cockhead was feeling the same itch as Bobby slipped his lips over it and sucked, and then slipped his mouth off to give Anton the opportunity to do the same. As the innocent ten-year-old sucked on the elderly man's cock, Bobby reached over and began to stroke the boy's stiff, three-inch [8 cm] cocklet, sending thrills of pleasure up the little stiffie, and Anton eagerly reached out to bring his new friend the same pleasure.

The nine of them now engaged in an all-out orgy, the family room was filled with grunts and snorts and deep gasps of exertion and of pleasure. Engaging in sex with another guy and being surrounded by other guys similarly engaged, it did not take long before everyone was approaching that point of ecstasy from which there is no stopping it once it starts. It would be impossible to say which of the nine came first and which came last as the former was less than a minute before the latter. Twelve-year-old Benny threw back his head and shuddered with the familiar thrill of his dry orgasm and grasped Scott by the hips and furiously rammed his throbbing, burning cock in and out of Scott's hole as the ten-year-old similarly shuddered and squealed with his own dry orgasm. Having experienced that thrill for the first time only ten days ago, Scott arched his back and gasped with the unique, delightful, and frightening pleasure that ripped through his groin and up his swollen cock, his stretched asshole burning with the same strange sweet pain.

Bent over the back of the sofa beside him, Kazim panted as if he'd completed four laps around the gym as he fought back the urge to piss. As the pressure doubled with each thrust of Brett's cock up his ass, he clenched his peehole tight, at the same time clenching Brett's stiff cock with his anal muscle. Brett suddenly clasped his hips tighter and thrust harder and Kazim felt something hot and wet begin squirting up his rectum, and then he felt the burning rush up the center of his cock and unable to hold it back, he too began to squirt, splattering the Hurd's sofa with his thick, white seed, the first seed he had ever ejected. It gushed out, throb after throb, the thick globs oozing down the sofa cushions and soaking into the fabric.

Bent over and grasping the back of the sofa chair for support, Brent inhaled deeply as he felt the familiar twang deep up his loins and the burning gush of his cum up the core of his swollen cock. It spurted out with the violent force that only a horny teenager can achieve, splattering the back of the sofa and the quivering fourteen-year-old threw back his head in ecstasy. Zwarte Piet also felt the familiar twang and the burn racing up the core of his cock. Being a healthy, lusty teenager himself, he, like most teenage boys, had over the years satisfied his urges with his hand. This, however, was the first time he had achieved an orgasm up the ass of another teenage boy, and he found the experience even more pleasurable as Brent's sphincter clasped tightly about his swollen cock and his rectum throbbed in unison with his swollen flesh. Squirt after squirt shot up the twin's ass as the boy shot his own load.

As the four teenage boys gasped and quivered with the ejaculation of their semen, Sinterklaas threw back his head and quivered with the ejaculation of his own, his thick cum shooting up in the air and falling back to ooze down his swollen cock and to spray his crotch. Bobby eagerly lapped it up and quivered with his own dry orgasm and Anton wobbled dizzily as his loins went weak and his little cocklet throbbed with his very first orgasm, Bobby's fingers still wrapped about his cock. This was like no Sinterklaasavond celebration he had ever engaged in!

Delightfully spent, the nine of them collapsed on the floor in a daze, their chests rising and falling as they sucked in the cum-laden air. It had been an exquisite experience, but the boys were all young and healthy and soon eager for another bout, and caught up in their youthful vigor, so was Sinterklaas. With their trousers about their ankles or already removed, the nine of them stripped naked, even Scott who seldom went about shirtless being self-conscious of his flabby breasts and rolls of fat. Brent and Brett openly admired the smooth, muscular chests of the two sixteen-year-old boys, Kazim's brownish-black skin and Zwarte Piet's ebony contrasting sharply with the pink flesh of the twins, which contrasted even more sharply with their blackened faces.

Taking the lead, Bobby had Scott get on his hands and knees in the middle of the room and then approached him from behind as Anton shuffled up in front of him. Humiliated and embarrassed being fucked and masturbated by one of his classmates and being forced to suck a second, and yet enjoying the rush of engaging in sex and the pleasure of having an orgasm, the bewildered ten-year-old bully did not know how to feel. As Kazim assumed the same position beside Scott, and Brent took him from behind and began jerking him off while his twelve-year-old brother stepped up in front of him and he was forced to take him in his mouth, Kazim did not know what to make of what was going on either. Being fucked by a boy two years younger than himself, and being forced to suck the dick of the boy's brother who was another two years younger, was humiliating and embarrassing, and even more so in that they were two white boys, but nobody in the room seemed to think it out of the ordinary. Besides, he was still recovering from the pleasure he'd felt half an hour ago, a pleasure that came as a surprise and was troubling. Everyone knew what sort of boy enjoyed sex with another boy, and he was not that sort of boy, and yet he had gotten an erection and had come and it had felt great.

Sinterklaas smiled as he saw the look of confusion and denial on the black teenager's face. He had known from years of experience that would be Kazim's reaction and had figured that the boy's guilt and angst over the pleasure he was feeling given the prejudicial attitude he had toward the gay population, would be appropriate punishment for his prejudicial attitude toward the Dutch and their celebration of Sinterklaasavond. In fact in the long run it would be a far more effective punishment than what would have happened to him had they taken him back to Spain. The black teenager would fret over his reaction and feelings this night for a long time in the future.

Sinterklaas turned his attention to the other black teenager, Zwarte Piet, who had assumed the same position as Scott and Kazim and at the moment was being mounted and jerked off by Brett Brewster. Unlike Kazim, Zwarte Piet had an open attitude when it came to sexual identity and expression, the result of living in Spain where sexuality was much more open and relaxed, and holidaying in the Netherlands where attitudes were much more lenient. Although this night was also his first experience with another boy, he was feeling no guilt nor shame in the fact he was finding the experience pleasureful. Seeing the black boy there on his knees and elbows getting his tight black ass fucked for the first time in his life, Sinterklaas sighed and his pecker began to rise. It was because he knew that Zwarte Piet was enjoying getting fucked, and because he had developed a fondness for the boy, that he had no qualms as he approached the two teenage boys and stood before the former slave.

Once again the room was filled with the sounds of lust and pleasure, the heavy breathing, the grunts and snorts, and the sighs. Scott, Kazim and Zwarte Piet knelt there eagerly and hungrily sucking cock as if they were sweet treats, and the three tensed and quivered as their swollen cocks were stroked and a hard cock pumped in and out of their assholes, sending a burning pleasure circling their stretched puckers and their irritated knobs. The three Brewster brothers, Bobby, Brent and Brett, pumped their hips to and fro and closed their eyes with delight as their stiff cocks throbbed up the hot, moist assholes of their partners, and they stroked the stiff cocks of those same boys eagerly, knowing the pleasure they were bringing them by both of their actions. Anton, Benny and Sinterklaas ran their fingers through the locks of their respective partners as they sucked on their stiff cocks and they felt the tension rising in their loins once again. Nine hot, horny males getting their rocks off together, they gasped and panted and began to sweat as their blood pounded through their veins and their swollen cocks and their balls began to swell and tighten. One by one they again reached that explosive point and they sucked in the cum-scented air deeply as they quivered with their ejaculations and dry climaxes.

As Bobby's cock throbbed deep up young Scott's rectum, Brent filled Kazim's asshole, his spunk joining that of his twin brother, and Brett filled Zwarte Peter's ass. As the black boy felt his asshole being filled with spunk for the first time in his life, he began to buck as Brett's expert fingers brought him off and he sprayed the carpet of the family room with his jizz. At the same time his former master and now companion began to spurt his juice into his mouth and he eagerly began to swallow the man's thick, tart cum. Kazim similarly arched his back and groaned with pleasure as Brent's fingers brought him off and his thick spunk sprayed the carpet also. Scott trembled also as Bobby brought him to his dry orgasm, and Anton and Benny sucked in the cum-laden air as the two trembled with their dry orgasms.

Once again the nine collapsed on the floor, gasping and panting with exertion and pleasure, their naked bodies glistening with sweat and their chests heaving. The wigs of five of the six Black Peter's were askew, two revealing dark brown hair beneath and three revealing strands of blond. The blackened faces of five Zwarte Pieten had also become streaked with sweat and smudges of pink were beginning to show. The black cherry face of the sixth was sweat-streaked also and beaming with pleasure. Ten-year-old's Scott and Anton sprawled there on the carpet, their eyes glazed over with the delight of their dry orgasms and Sinterklaas sat beside them with his back supported by the sofa chair, his wrinkled breast rising and falling as he sucked in the cum-laden air, his flaccid cock hanging limping over his tight balls. The grandfather clock in the family room struck two, arousing the nine out of their blissful daze.

"Scott's parents will have cleaned up and will be on their way home by now," observed Sinterklaas as he glanced over at Zwarte Piet. "We still have work to do besides. We had best be on our way."

"We'd better get back to your house too," observed Bobby. "We don't wanna be found here, and 'sides, we got school in seven more hours."

"If we hurry, we might catch Mom and Dad in their final act," Brett observed as he glanced over at his twin.

"They'll still be doing it?" asked Anton in surprise.

"Oh yeah. No question," said the four Brewster brothers.

"Your parents would still be doing it without the Viagra," observed Sinterklaas. The brothers looked up at him. "I know your parents," he observed with a grin. "I've known them all their lives."

"Oh yeah? What were they like as kids?" Brett asked as he and his brothers grinned.

"Well, let's just say you boys are a chip off the old block," Sinterklaas said with a knowing smile, "and your mother was no wallflower herself. But, I am not one to tell tales, and we really should be leaving."

The nine of them quickly got dressed.

"You wanna come back with us, Benny?" asked Brent. "You could tell Mom and Dad you weren't feeling well and decided to come home."

"I could," Benny said hesitantly, "but that would be a lie, and that would be naughty." He glanced over at Sinterklaas and Zwarte Piet.

"You could come along with us," Sinterklaas suggested. He knew the boy's lies in the past were all white ones, and were told with good intentions.

"Hey! If you're taking my brother back to Spain, you gotta take me too," Bobby declared, stepping in front of his brother protectively.

"And us," joined in Brent and Brett.

"Actually, I was thinking of taking him just around Crestview Heights," the elderly man replied with a smile. "We still have a lot of youngsters to reward and a couple to pick up and we're running late now. An extra pair of hands will be a big help."

"Help you? Sure," Benny said with a grin as he released his breath. He hadn't realized he'd been holding it and tried to act like he hadn't been worried there for a bit.

"I hope you two boys have learned a lesson tonight," Sinterklaas said, looking at Scott and Kazim. The two nodded meekly but Sinterklaas knew it was going to take some time for Scott to change his ways, and besides, he suspected the boy hadn't found his punishment that unpleasant. As for Kazim, the effects of racial prejudice runs deep, both ways, but he knew they had made a step in the right direction this night. "Well, it has been quite a night," he said with a smile as he turned and placed a hand on Zwarte Piet's shoulder and the boy smiled as he nodded in agreement. As they headed up the stairs, the Brewster brothers noticed Sinterklaas's hand slowly slip from Black Peter's shoulder down to his bubble butt. From conquered devil to Moor slave, then to servant and then to faithful and grateful companion, and now, to lover, though the boys were sure it would be quite a while before this last change became part of the legend! When it did, they wondered if they would be a footnote as to the cause.

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