J.O. Dickingson

The Gargoyle of Male Fecundity

Chapters 11-12

Chapter 11

Ted Marple stared out of the windshield at the lightly falling snow. He did not even know where he was. After his confrontation with Bobby, he had driven straight to his sister's home intent on informing her of the sexual abuse of her son, but as he paused to rehearse just how he was going to break the news before he got out of the car, he could not come up with a way of telling her that he was comfortable with. So, he'd pulled back out of her driveway and had just driven, cursing Bobby, cursing his trepidation about telling his sister, even cursing his agreement to move from where they were. Had he stayed back in Baltimore, he'd have driven to Druid Hill Park where he'd have been able to go for a solitary walk to work out his problem, and he'd have been able to concentrate. Had he stayed in Baltimore, Taylor would never have had the conversation he'd had with Billy, and neither he nor his son would have met Bobby, so he wouldn't have this problem in the first place.

Actually, this was just one more blow in a series of blows. The final one. The biggest blow had been that agreeing to move so his wife could continue her climb up the corporate ladder had not had the result he'd hoped for. Oh, she'd appreciated his sacrifice, but not to the extent that she was willing to adjust her plans to accommodate his. She was grateful, but not that grateful that she was willing to bear him a second child. After all, as she pointed out, what would have been the point of the move if she'd have to put her career on hold to have another rug rat, as she preferred to call children. Besides, she also quickly pointed out, his was not that great a sacrifice. It was easy for him to find a job as a computer technician. The entire country was crying for skilled people in his line of work. On the other hand, it was much harder for a lawyer such as herself to land a junior position with a prestigious firm, and especially one the calibre of Harwood, Mayer and Fields. So, if they hadn't moved he wouldn't have gotten his hopes up and she wouldn't be so damn busy impressing her superiors, and if he hadn't gotten his hopes up and she wasn't so damn busy, their arguments over increasing their family wouldn't have become more intense. At the moment, life sucked big time.

The snow began to fall harder. Deciding he'd think better after he'd had something to eat, he headed home. He was not surprised to find Billy there. He and Taylor had been spending a lot of time with each other over the past three-and-a-half months, something which he'd encouraged. Taylor had really been moping around before they'd left Baltimore, but he always cheered up when Billy was around, so he'd figured the two being together was a good thing. Now, knowing what he did about Billy and Bobby, he was sorry he'd encouraged the friendship between the two boys, and his fears about just what sorts of ideas Billy had been planting in his young son's head, and what role Bobby had been playing in this whole sordid affair was making him feel particularly guilty.

"Dad?"

"Yeah?"

"Can we talk?"

Ted looked at his son, and over at Billy. The two boys were standing there apprehensively, the way they did when they'd gotten into trouble, or when they were about to make a major and likely ungrantable request.

"Please."

His voice was soft and pleading, and Ted suddenly realized his son was almost in tears. His blood pressure rocketed, but mixed with the anger was an ache for his son. Damn that fuckin' pervert causing young boys such grief. He should have castrated the son of a bitch this afternoon

"Sure," Ted said, forcing a smile.

"I didn't mean to get Billy in trouble."

"Billy's not in trouble," Ted quickly replied, looking over at his nephew. He was sincere. This was totally new territory for him and he wasn't sure how to handle it all, but he did know Billy could not have been responsible for the situation he'd gotten into, and he definitely didn't want him feeling guilty.

"But you're mad at him and Bobby."

"I'm not mad at Billy," he said, trying to look and sound sincere.

"But you are at Bobby," Billy responded quietly. His voice was apprehensive and respectful with a hint of sorrow, but there was also a firm resolve in the tone. It was the voice of a boy who was frightened and mindful that he was speaking to an adult, but also who was ready to speak out.

"He shouldn't have done what he did to you," Ted replied, unable to deny his anger but choosing his words carefully for Billy's sake.

"He didn't do nothing to me. He didn't do nothing I didn't want him to," Billy responded, his eyes wide and begging.

"This is not your fault," Ted said softy as he put his hand on the boy's shoulder. "None of it. I want you to know that."

"I'm not lying," the boy said, his voice tense.

"I didn't say you were," Ted said quickly. Damn. He'd prided himself on being able to talk to kids and to understand them, but this conversation was way beyond anything he could have ever imagined having, and it definitely was not in his comfort level. In hindsight, he should have gone straight to the professionals. Social workers deal with this stuff all the time and would have known what to say and do. "I'm sure…," he began as he struggled with how to word what he wanted to say. "I'm sure Bobby worked things so… well, men like that know how to manipulate boys."

"Bobby didn't manipulate me," Billy insisted with a hint of anger. "He loves me. And I love him."

"If he loved you he wouldn't do what he's doing to you," Ted retorted, sorry he'd said it the moment it was out of his mouth. He was angry, and he was not accustomed to being spoken to in that sort of tone by a child.

"Fucking me?"

"Yes," Ted said, embarrassed by his nephew's use of the f-word. He'd certainly used it himself, especially when he was younger, and he certainly knew men who use it regularly. It sounded much different coming out of the mouth of a ten-year-old.

"Do you fuck Aunt Cheryl?"

"Of course," Ted replied, glancing over at his son. He was feeling most uncomfortable and wishing there was some way to bring this to a close without being obvious. "We don't use the f-word in this house."

"So, why do you… do it with her?" Billy asked, evidently searching for another word to use.

"Because she's my wife."

"You mean you do it cuz you have to, cuz you're her husband?"

"No, it's not that I have to," Ted replied. What was he doing explaining to a ten-year-old boy why he was fucking his wife? It was absurd, but then perhaps by telling him he could explain why it was that what he was doing with Bobby was wrong. "I do it because I want to, and so does she. We do it because we love each other." That had at least been true for the first part of their marriage. They hadn't had sex, they'd made love. Not only that, they'd done it often back then. It had been the best way they knew how to express their love for each other. Of course they had also wanted to have a baby. Now, Cheryl did not want one, and if she wasn't too tired he was usually angry over some spat of theirs. So, their sex had become less and less frequent, and when they did have it, more often than not it was out of a biological need and a duty rather than out of love.

"So if you can do it because you love each other and want to, why can't Bobby and I? We love each other and want to."

'Far better to do it out of love than out of duty,' Ted thought, and then quickly pushed the thought out of his mind. "Well… it's because… well because we're male and female. You and Bobby are two males," he replied, avoiding the real reason.

"Two males can't love each other, and, well, you know, do stuff?"

"Well… there are some who think that way," Ted replied, sorry he'd gotten himself into that topic, and wondering just what Billy knew about homosexuality. He shifted his weight to his other foot as he tried to think of a way out of this mess.

"You one of them who think that way?"

"Well, no, I'm not," Ted replied, having always considered himself open minded, but also never having had to deal with the issue directly. The few conversations he'd ever had about homosexuality had been purely hypothetical. He did not know anyone who was gay.

"So then why are you so mad at Bobby?"

"How do you know I'm mad at him?" Ted asked, again avoiding the question but also at the same time suddenly suspicious how Billy knew.

"He came and talked to me this afternoon."

The bastard! Ted had figured he'd done as much. What sort of man was he to run to a child and send him over to plead on his behalf. "What did he tell you?"

"That you were mad. That you were gonna tell my mom and dad about us. He said that we wouldn't be able to see each other anymore, and that I shouldn't worry because he was going to do whatever you and my mom and dad wanted him to because he didn't want me to get hurt."

'He should have thought of that before,' Ted thought sourly.

"So you gonna tell my mom and dad?"

"I have to."

"But that would ruin everything. They won't like it, I know they won't," Billy responded, half whining and half begging.

"They won't," Ted agreed. "That your mom and dad aren't going to like it should tell you that there's something wrong with what you and Bobby are doing."

"But they don't understand. You don't understand."

"I understand. I understand all too well," Ted said sympathetically, his eyes filled with sadness as he looked at his young nephew. He wanted to reach out and to hug him, but he didn't know if he should.

"You don't! You don't understand shit!" Billy shouted. "Nobody fuckin' does!"

"Billy," Ted warned. The boy was upset, but he was not about to ignore such language and attitude.

"You don't!"

"When you're older, you will see that I do understand, and so do your parents. You're just too young to see that right now."

"Too young?" Billy retorted sharply. "I'm not too young. I'm not too young to know guys got a dick so they can have sex, not just to pee with. I know having sex feels good. I'm not too young to know two people who really love each other want to make each other feel good. I'm not too young to know that love got nothing to do with how old two people are," Billy responded, growing more and more angry with each statement. It was a powerful argument for someone who had only recently turned ten. Ted did not know how to respond in the silence that followed.

Aunt Cheryl appeared at the door. "It is starting to come down pretty heavy," she advised. "You want to phone your parents and see if you can sleep over?"

The boys looked at Ted. "Go ahead," he said. "I think we've had enough serious talk for tonight."

"You gonna talk to my mom and dad?"

"Not tonight," Ted said. He was not prepared for a confrontation, and he knew in Billy's present mood, there would be a confrontation if he talked to his parents now. "We need to sleep on it."

The boys did not know what that meant, but they did know the snowfall had given them more time to argue their point. A lot of things could happen before morning. The two boys glanced at each other in relief but with apprehension, and turned and headed for the phone.

"What were you talking about?"

"Guy talk," Ted responded.

The boys spent the evening in Taylor's room. Ted tried to watch some television, and when that did not work, to read some of the articles in his November computer magazine, but that didn't keep his mind off the problem weighing on his mind either. It had been guy talk all right, serious guy talk. It was the sort of stuff a professional should be involved in, not him. He went over the facts again and again, and each time he came up with the same conclusion. Bobby had been abusing his nephew, and despite everything Billy had said, his parents needed to be told. That was clear and simple. It was also something that was not going to be easy to do. Several times he approached Taylor's room to try to reason with Billy, but each time he backed off. One thing he did not need, was to make things worse.

As he lay in bed that night reviewing the facts one more time, he decided that things could not get worse. Unable to sleep, he headed to the kitchen for a glass of warm milk. He paused outside Taylor's room even though he knew it was far too late to talk to the boys. They had been particularly quiet all night. He'd been tempted to pop in unexpectedly to check up on them, to be sure they were not into anything, well, sexual, but he was afraid what he might find. He'd managed to send Cheryl a couple times, until she got pissed off and told him if he was so concerned to go check on the boys himself. Now he could faintly hear voices behind the door. Normally he would have rapped and told them to call it a night, but this had been far from a normal day. He stepped up quietly and placed his ear to the door.

"So what do you think your dad's gonna do?"

"Tell," came the whispered reply. "He thinks it's the right thing to do and Dad always does what's right."

"But it's not right."

"Why do adults think it's wrong?" Taylor asked, obviously distressed. He wanted to believe his dad was never wrong, but he wanted to believe his cousin and best friend was right also.

"Well, I know adults don't think kids should know about sex. They think it's just something adults can understand. They don't even teach about it until you're in grade four, and even then they don't tell you nothing important, not stuff that you really need to know. And parents never explain it to their kids. Your mom or dad ever talk to you about sex stuff?"

"Uh-un," replied Taylor. "I didn't know nuthin' til you told me."

"See."

Ted felt a moment of guilt, but it was only a moment. After all, his son was only six. What could one possibly tell a six-year-old?

"So what do they think we can't understand? It sounded way simple the way you told me."

"I dunno. I think they think we're too young to know 'bout love and stuff. Or maybe it's just a dumb adult rule that don't make no sense. Like the rule about not playing with your dick. Every guy knows playing with his dick makes it feel good, but parents tell them not to do it and that its wrong and dirty and junk. They tell a bunch of lies hoping you won't do it no more."

"Yeah," agreed Taylor reluctantly. The idea of his dad lying to him did not sit well.

"But guys still keep doing it. They just don't do it when adults are around."

"So you and Bobby still going to keep doing sex stuff?"

"I don't think we'll be able to. Bobby's going to be in big trouble if your dad tells. If he don't got to go to jail, then for sure they won't let me see him no more."

"I'm sorry," Taylor said, his voice sounding like he was practically in tears. "I didn't mean to get you and him in trouble and stuff."

"Hey, it's my fault. I should have never told you about us. That's one of the first rules if you're going to have a boylover."

"I wish you hadn't told me."

The boys were silent and Ted almost backed away when he heard Billy continue. "I figured I was helping you."

"Me too."

There was more silence.

"I don't understand it."

"Understand what?"

"When the dick on the statue of fucking turned red it was supposed to mean it was okay for you and your dad to make a baby. You were thinking about your dad when it turned red weren't you?"

"Oh yeah, I was. Honest."

"It's only supposed to do that if the two people are right for each other to make a baby."

"I think Dad and me are right. It would be way awesome if him and me could make a baby."

"Yeah. I wish you could, like Bobby and me did."

"If you can't see Bobby no more, what about you and Billy Bob?"

"I guess the same. I dunno."

"But that's not fair. He's your son."

"But nobody's gonna believe Billy Bob's my baby, and those who know for sure, sure can't tell nobody or they'd be in big trouble too."

"I don't want you to not be able to see Billy Bob no more."

"I don't want that either."

"There's gotta be someway we can change Dad's mind. Maybe if we showed him that frog statue and those baby making pills."

"I doubt it. If he didn't believe me when I said Bobby and me love each other, he's not gonna believe some dumb statue and pills can make a boy pregnant."

"You really love Bobby and Billy Bob don't you?"

"More than anything in the world. Just as much as I love my mom and dad."

"I love my dad too."

"Well, maybe things will work out. It does when people really truly love each other."

"Yeah," Taylor said sleepily. "You wanna play with our dicks or something?"

"Naw. I'm sortta tired."

"Me too."

The conversation didn't make Ted any more comfortable with his decision, and he didn't sleep much the rest of the night. As he tossed and turned, he thought about the boys' conversation over and over. Billy did seem to genuinely love Bobby, and he certainly loved little Billy Bob. Bobby did seem like he sincerely cared about Billy in their conversation also. Perhaps there was a compromise. He did not have to go to his sister with this, who would just get all upset like he had. If he could get Bobby to agree to stop having sex with the boy, and if there was some way to keep him at his word, maybe have him take those medical treatments they had for sex offenders, or even volunteer to get his balls removed, then Billy could still visit with Billy Bob. A compromise would be best for everyone. With that thought he finally fell into a troubled sleep.

He slept in the next morning, something he did not normally do. When he got up, the boys were out in the snow playing, and his wife was getting ready to go out.

"Where are you going?"

"To the office. There are some cases I need to review."

"But it's Sunday."

"I know what day it is," she said irritably.

"Can't it wait?"

"If it could, do you think I'd be going to the office?"

"It's a beautiful sunny day. I thought perhaps we could go out and make a snowman with the boys."

"If you'd gotten up much later all the snow would have been melted."

"I didn't sleep that well last night. I, well, have had some things on my mind."

"So have I. This is a major case I'm working on."

Ted was going to comment that every case was a major case, but bit his tongue. "Very well. Go. I can look after the boys."

Cheryl was about to retort that it wouldn't hurt him, but bit her tongue also. An argument would only upset her and she had to be able to concentrate.

As she pulled out of the drive, Ted changed his mind about joining the boys and poured himself a coffee and picked up the paper. He heard the boys half an hour later.

"You two are soaked to the skin."

"Yeah. The snow's real wet."

"Well, go up and change out of those wet clothes. You get sick and your mother will never let me hear the end of it."

"I better head home, Uncle Ted."

"Soaked like that? Your mother would never let me hear the end of that either. Go up to Taylor's room and strip off those clothes. We'll pop them in the dryer."

"Kay."

Ted fixed up two cups of cocoa for the boys, and then picking up a large towel, he went up to Taylor's room. He was about to knock when he heard Taylor's voice.

"How come a guy's willie shrinks all up like that when it gets cold?"

"That's because it's trying to keep warm," explained Billy. "It's way sensitive."

"Yeah, I know that," responded Taylor, and the two boys giggled.

"Wanna see something cool?"

"Sure."

"Spread your legs."

Ted's alarms went off and he raised his hand to knock and stop whatever it was Billy was about to do. Before he had a chance to, he heard his son giggle.

"That's funny. How did it do that?"

"I don't know. Feels weird don't it."

"Oh yeah. Want me to try doing it to yours?"

"Sure."

Taking a chance, Ted slowly opened the door. Taylor was sitting on the edge of the bed and Billy was standing up. Both boys were stark naked. Bowing his head, Taylor blew his hot breath against his older cousin's shrivelled up genitals, causing his balls to roll in their sack. The two boys giggled.

"If you take an ice cube and put it on your balls, you can make them shrink right up into your body."

"No way!"

"Really."

"Awesome."

Ted slowly closed the door and rapped on it. Opening it up a crack, he handed the boys the towel, and then when they said he could come in, he brought in the cocoa and retrieved Billy's clothes. As he took them down to the dryer, he thought about what he'd just witnessed. It was simple, boyhood fun, nothing more. There had been nothing wrong with what the boys were doing, and yet he'd almost interrupted it. As he picked up the paper and continued reading while the clothes spun, he could not concentrate.

He could not get the image of his naked son and nephew out of his mind. At three-foot-ten [1.17 m] and forty-eight pounds [22 kg], and with his big, chocolate brown eyes, long eyelashes, pug nose, and smooth, pink skin Taylor was a cute, cherubic-looking boy. Billy, with his long, curly locks, was angelic also, but at four-foot-five [1.35 m] and sixty-four pounds [29 kg], he was too mature to be considered a cherub anymore. His genitals were also much larger, his limp penis being more like a small sausage and his testicles hung between his legs in two pendant sacks unlike Taylor's which were more rounded. Both had looked so pure and clean, so full of innocence. Ted felt guilty thinking that they had been doing something wrong. They were only boys. He thought back to his own boyhood, to his curiosity about his 'thing', to his mother screaming he was dirty for wondering about his sister, to his father telling him it was filthy to touch himself. Those were not the types of memories he wanted for his son, his only son from the looks of things.

Taking Taylor's clothes out of the drier, he felt a twinge of sexual arousal as he picked up the ten-year-old's dark blue jockey briefs. He shook himself to clear his head of such thoughts. He'd never considered boys' underwear sexy before. His lack of sex was evidently worse than he'd realized, he thought with a smile. As he reached Taylor's room, he didn't think about knocking. The two boys immediately sat bolt upright, Taylor dropping his hands to his lap and Billy grabbing for the towel, but their action was too late.

Ted had seen in that brief second that the two boys had been wanking each other, and he had seen their young, stiff cocks. He was surprised at the size of his nephew's penis, almost three inches [7½ cm] and two fingers thick, and at the size of his son's, which in the second he had to see it seemed to be about the size of his pinky. As he stood there, uncertain what to say or do, the two boys looked up at him from the bed with a combination of apprehension and guilt. Those few seconds seemed to take an hour.

"Here's your dry clothes," Ted finally said, deciding it was best to pretend he hadn't seen anything as he put them on the bed.

"They're nice and warm," observed Billy as he put his hand on the pile.

"It's neato getting into my pajamas after they've been warmed by the fireplace," observed Taylor.

"That would be cool. We don't have a fireplace," said Billy.

"After you get dressed, we'll have lunch and I'll take you home."

"Sure, Uncle Ted," Billy said, his voice and face suddenly sad. The two boys stole a glance at each other.

"I've decided not to tell your mom and dad about what we talked about yesterday."

"You have?" Billy asked, his eyes wide with a combination of wonder and delight.

"Yes."

"Oh Uncle Ted! Thank you, thank you!" Leaping up and allowing the towel to drop to the floor, Billy wrapped his arms about his uncle and squeezed him tightly. Ted stood there awkwardly with his hands dangling at his sides as his naked nephew hugged him passionately. He wanted to put his arms about the boy, but he was naked. "Oh thank you!" Billy repeated, practically in tears.

"We'll talk more about it later, when I drive you home."

Billy nodded and wiped his nose with the back of his index finger.

"Now, how does soup and grilled cheese sandwiches sound?"

"Chicken noodle?" asked Taylor.

"Sure."

"Wicked!" the boys replied.

While he prepared lunch, Ted thought about what he'd seen that morning. The boys were so young and seemed so innocent it was difficult to think of either of them having any sexual desires. For himself, by the time he was six he'd been trained not to touch himself anymore, and it was not until he'd turned thirteen that he'd compared sizes with a close buddy and began his solitary jerk sessions in the bathroom. As the boys talked excitedly about Taylor's Pokemon card collection, his latest passion, Ted thought about what he had to say to Billy. That was not going to be easy. As he pulled out of the driveway and headed down the street, he rehearsed it one last time. It was a lot easier to imagine than to put in words.

"About you and Bobby," he began, a frog suddenly in his voice. Billy looked up at him apprehensively and the look on his face reminded Ted how he felt sitting in the dentist's chair. "Although I've decided not to tell your mom, that doesn't mean I think what you and Bobby are doing is right."

Billy nodded solemnly as he looked up at his uncle and waited to hear what else he had to say.

"Boys messing around with each other, experimenting, comparing, stuff like you and Taylor were doing, that is one thing," Ted continued. This speech had sounded so much better when he'd rehearsed it last night.

"Then you did see us."

"Yes."

"Taylor's not in trouble is he? It was all my idea."

"No, he's not in trouble. And I suspect he was a willing participant."

"Fiddling with your dick just feels so good," Billy said, his eyes wide and innocent as if he was talking about eating chocolate cake. "And doing it to someone else and having them do it to you is way better than doing it by yourself."

"Yes. I imagine so," Ted replied. This was not the way he'd rehearsed their talk. Billy's comment did make him think. Certainly having sex with his wife was better than jacking off by himself, at least it was until lately. As for what Billy and Taylor had done, he'd never had an opportunity to mess around with other guys himself, though he'd often wondered if he was the only one in the world who jerked off.

"Then you don't mind Taylor and me doing it?"

"No. That's natural for boys."

"Then why is it so bad for a man and boy to do it?"

"Well, men should do it with other men if, well, if a man is, that is if he likes men," Ted stumbled.

"If a man is gay."

"Yes," he said with a smile. Billy's vocabulary had to be Bobby's doing. Ted felt his blood pressure begin to climb just at the thought of the man. What was a ten-year-old boy doing knowing bout gays? Billy looked up at him, waiting for him to continue. "Well, if a man is gay, he should do it with other men, men his age."

"If a guy's fifty, could he, like do stuff with a guy forty?"

"Well, yes, of course."

"A guy thirty?"

"Yes," Ted admitted, knowing where the boy was headed.

"Twenty?"

"There is a legal age where two people can have sex," said Ted.

"Eighteen," said Billy. "But some states it's twenty-one. And in some countries sixteen, even fourteen."

"How do you know all this?"

"There's a site on the net about it."

"I see. Bobby tell you about it?"

"Un-un. A friend I met at camp. He likes men too. And has a baby just like me."

So, he'd learned about it from another boy. He had misjudged Bobby. Boys were so much more knowledgeable these days. Well, about some things, he thought with a smile. "About this baby stuff."

"I know you don't believe it."

"Well, Billy," Ted said as he struggled not to grin, "there are some things that even old people know that are pretty certain."

"Uncle Ted," began Billy after thinking a moment. They had pulled onto his street.

"Yes?"

"If I give you the statue so you can see for yourself, and the baby pills, will you promise not to tell nobody or show nobody, and if you don't use them, will you promise to give them back to me?"

Ted looked at his nephew. How could he resist those big blue eyes and that sweet face? "I don't intend on using them, but I'll look at them if you wish. And I'll give them back, I promise."

"Wicked!" Billy exclaimed as they pulled into his driveway. "You coming in while I get them?"

"Sure."

Billy paused at the doorway. "When you get the statue, you got to think of the person you really, really want to have a baby with. If you think of the right person, the statue's dick turns red. If it don't, then it's not the right person."

Ted smiled and nodded. The imagination of kids these days! While he talked to his sister, he wondered what she'd think of their conversation on the way over. He'd never gotten around to talking about Bobby, and having to put an end to this activity, but that could wait for another day. Billy had gone through enough. The boy soon returned with the object which he had hastily wrapped in notebook paper and Scotch tape.

"What in heaven's name is that?"

"Something for Taylor," Billy said quickly.

"Well, Cheryl's away and I've left Taylor alone," said Ted as he took the object. "I'd better get back."

"All right. Thanks for looking after Billy. I hope he wasn't any bother."

"No bother at all. See you later sport."

"Sure Uncle Ted."

Unable to resist as he pulled into his driveway five minutes later, he tore a hole in the paper and peeked through the opening. To his amusement he saw it was a very fat looking and ugly man, with a huge penis. How did his nephew ever get a hold of something like that! And to think he and Taylor figured it could-Ted suddenly paused and stared. Did he just see the penis turn colour? He thought back about what he'd been thinking. Taylor and Billy believing boys could become pregnant. He concentrated on the memory of the two boys telling him that. There was no response. Billy had said he was supposed to concentrate on the person he really wanted to have a baby with. He concentrated on Cheryl as he stared at the huge penis of the grotesque statue. It remained a dull, ochre colour. A wave of disappointment passed over him, and then he chuckled. Of course it didn't turn colour-duh! It was a statue! Half amused, he concentrated on Billy. Again there was! no response. He concentrated on his son, allowing his thoughts to return to the morning scene, his son sitting there on the bed, his little stiff dick being wanked by his cousin and his fingers wrapped about his cousin's little pricklet. The dick of the statue began to grow pink. Ted stared at it in disbelief as he concentrated on Taylor and the thought of having a baby. The clay penis glowed a bright red. That was impossible. It had to have something to do with the sunlight.

Closing the wrapping back up and tucking the statue in his shirt, he went straight to the workroom and put it on the shelf behind some cans of nails. Returning upstairs, he checked in on Taylor, who was looking at his Pokemon cards. Sitting down in the living room, he turned on the television, but he could only think of one thing. He went back downstairs and unwrapping the statue, he put it on the workbench. Staring at the huge penis, he thought about his son and the huge dick immediately turned from ochre to pink. He quickly thought about Cheryl and pictured the two of them making a baby. As he concentrated the colour faded. He thought about himself and one of Taylor's young friends back in Baltimore laying naked on the bed, the boy on his back with his legs spread just like Cheryl. There was no change. He replaced the image of the young boy with that of Taylor, the image being much more precise having seen his young son naked and aroused, and the statue responded! immediately.

"Oh wow, you got the statue!" announced Taylor excitedly.

Ted jumped. He'd been concentrating so hard he hadn't heard his son enter.

"And its cock is way red. You been thinking about me, Dad?" Taylor asked hopefully as he stepped up beside his father.

"Ah, well, yes," Ted said, taken aback and not sure how under the circumstances he could explain that a six-year-old did not call a penis a cock.

"I told you, I told you," he said excitedly. "Oh wow, I knew you'd understand. I knew it would work out. Billy said it would. Oh wow! You want to make the baby right now?"

"Ah, Taylor, I didn't say anything about agreeing to make a baby."

Taylor looked at the statue, and then up at his dad. Then he looked back at the statue, his face a study in concentration. To Ted's surprise, the statue's cock turned an even brighter red.

"You see! You see!" he shouted. "It's meant for you and me."

"What were you thinking just now?"

"I was thinking of you fucking my bum," the boy said with a large, toothy smile. He still had his baby teeth and they were small and square. Ted did not know how to respond to the answer to his question. His son had only turned six back in June! Six-year-olds shouldn't be using such language. They certainly shouldn't be having such thoughts. "But we need something to make yours slippery, cuz I'm gonna be way too tight."

"Taylor, wait," Ted said, putting his hands on the shoulders of his excited, bouncing son. "Something to make it slippery? You're going to be too tight? How do you know these things?"

Taylor looked up at his father apprehensively at the tone of his voice. Had he said something wrong again? One moment things couldn't be more fantastic, and the next he had a feeling something terrible was going to happen.

"Billy told you these things didn't he," Ted observed, making it a statement more than a question.

Taylor nodded as he looked down at the floor of the workshop. He didn't want to get Billy in trouble again. This adult junk was just too hard to understand when you could say something and when you couldn't.

"Well, son, I know you want to make a baby with me, but I'm sorry. You just can't make a baby that way."

"But you can. Really you can."

"Taylor. Men and boys don't have sex to make babies."

"Bobby and Billy did."

"They may have had sex, but not to make a baby."

"I know. They have sex because it makes them feel good. Billy told me. But they had sex to have a baby too. Honest!"

"Well, the feeling good part is probably true," Ted said as he struggled with how to explain that Billy was being molested to his young son. "For Bobby anyway."

"Don't you love me?"

"Of course I love you, Taylor. Very much."

"Then if you do, what's wrong with us having sex?"

"We're father and son."

"So?"

"It's just not done," Ted said firmly, hoping by the tone of his voice he'd bring an end to this ridiculous and embarrassing conversation.

""Why?'

"It just isn't. Fathers and sons don't have sex together, and nor should men and boys."

"That's dumb."

Ted sighed. "You're too young to understand…"

"But the statue says you and me are right for each other." Standing before his dad, he suddenly reached up and placed his hand on his dad's crotch. "People who love each other fuck don't they?"

"Husbands and wives," Ted responded, instinct telling him to push his son's hand away and yet reason telling him to be careful what attitudes he might be teaching his son by reacting too hastily. Who knows what feelings of guilt and shame he might create in his impressionable young son by the wrong move? As for his use of the f-word, that was of least importance at the moment.

"Men and men do," Taylor observed, keeping his hand between his dad's legs. His crotch felt so warm, so good.

"Well, yes," Ted admitted, wishing his son would remove his hand. Billy had to have been filling his head with this nonsense.

"Fathers and sons love each other."

"Yes, love," Ted agreed, emphasizing the word love, and knowing in reality, not all sons and fathers loved each other.

"It's okay to make your penis feel good, isn't it?"

"Well, yes, in private. I mean, you don't do it in public, like when you're at the supermarket or something."

"And it's okay to make others feel good."

"Ah, well, you mean others as in other people, or others as in other penises?"

"Both."

"Ah, well," Ted responded, flustered by the conversation and not knowing what to say. His son's hand felt so small and so hot.

"I want to make you feel good," Taylor observed, looking up at his father with his big, chocolate-brown eyes as he squeezed the warm lump in his trousers.

"Ah, well, I want to make you feel good too."

Out of the corner of his eye Ted suddenly saw a large, clear droplet form at the tip of the statue's dick. That had to be his imagination! Taylor reached up and quickly pulled down his dad's fly and slipped his hot little hand inside before Ted could stop him. His fingers wrapped about the warm tube inside the cotton boxers and he squeezed and released it. Ted stood there frozen by confusion and indecision. His conditioning told him to reach down and stop the boy. What he was doing was wrong. His memory of being told touching his penis was naughty and his feelings of guilt as a preschool boy told him to let the boy go ahead and touch him. In his mind and in his heart he knew he should pull away, he should put an end to this before it went further. It did feel good, though, and the boy was only squeezing him outside his underwear. This wasn't really having sex.

There was no confusion nor reservation in Taylor's mind. Playing with your thing felt good. Playing with someone else's felt even better because it made you feel good and it made their thing feel good. So, what they were doing was right. Besides, making one's dad feel good was what a son should do. Sons were supposed to make their dads feel good, and dads were supposed to make their sons feel good. The best feeling in the world was the feeling you got when you played with your penis-well, the next best thing after being hugged by your dad. It was better than warm pajamas and hot cocoa on a cold winter day, and even better than riding a roller coaster at the amusement park. So, the best way to make your dad feel good had to be to play with his penis. After all, they were both guys, and what they were doing was a guy thing, a very special guy thing. As he felt his dad's thing begin to swell, he knew he was right. His dad was enjoying it.

All boys fiddle with themselves, Ted reasoned as his young son squeezed and released his swelling flesh. However they don't fiddle with their dads, countered his conscience. Playing with one's penis felt good, and having your penis played with felt good too, so what was wrong argued his other side. Taylor was only six years old, argued his conscience. He did not want his son to feel ashamed about masturbating came the countering argument. He did not want him to feel guilty about exploring his sexuality. He's six, screamed his conscience. Society clearly says that fathers and sons having sex is a perversion. The law clearly says it is illegal. His other side quickly countered. What sort of law makes it illegal for a man and his son to experience the most pleasant thing two individuals can experience?

Slipping his fingers in the fly of his dad's boxers, Taylor was surprised how much hair he had on his belly. He knew he had a lot on his chest, but he'd never thought about him having it on his belly too. Finding his father's penis, he wrapped his fingers about it and guided it out through the fly of his underwear and the fly of his pants. It was large, at least four inches [10 cm] long and bigger around than a garlic sausage. The end was flanged, like a mushroom, and unlike his, the end was not covered with a skin.

"How come yours is different?"

"I'm circumcised," Ted explained. "When I was a boy, doctors thought it best to cut off the skin around the end of a boy's penis."

"Cut it off!" said Taylor in dismay and shock.

"They did it when I was very little. I don't have any memory of it. But now doctors think that you don't have to cut off a boy's skin, so we didn't have them do it to you."

"Billy's isn't cut off either."

"I know. I saw you and him playing with each other this morning."

"That was fun. But it's funner playing with yours."

Ted wasn't sure how to answer. His little son was standing there slowly stroking his penis, and it was slowly swelling in response. This should not be getting him aroused, and as he looked down at his son a wave of guilt washed over him. Then to his surprise Taylor suddenly stopped stroking and released his cock. The boy evidently had enough, and considering the attention span of six-year-olds, that should not have been a surprise. In a way Ted was relieved that the boy had quit, and yet in a way he was disappointed. Most important of all, he was glad he hadn't stopped the boy. He had his curiosity satisfied, and there was no harm done really. As Taylor reached up and began to tug on his dad's belt, Ted realized that Taylor was far from over.

It was awkward doing it sort of backwards to doing his own, and he pressed his tongue between his lips and concentrated as he struggled with the belt, but he finally got it unbuckled. Unsnapping the snap and opening up his dad's trousers, he pulled them down to mid thigh. Quickly reaching up and slipping his hands under the elastic waistband of his father's blue and white striped Joe Boxers, he pushed them over his hips and down his thighs to his trousers. He reached up once again and gingerly touched his dad's large, hairy sack with the tips of his fingers. Then on impulse he leaned forward and blew on them. Ted's testicles were not cold, but the boy's hot, moist breath caused them to roll anyway. The boy giggled and looked up at his dad with a look of amusement and accomplishment.

"Ain't that neato?"

"Yes," his dad grinned. "Quite a trick."

Ted watched as his six-year-old son slipped his fingers about his cock, now five inches [12½ cm] and growing, and began to slowly stroke it from base to tip. He held it at the base and shook it, causing the mushroom head to flop in the air, and he took the sensitive knob between his fingers and jiggled it up and down rapidly. As he stretched it out as far as he could, he reached up with his other hand and stroked his balls with his fingertips. Wrapping his fingers about the rim of his sensitive gland, he rapidly wanked his fingers back and forth over the ridge, causing Ted to squirm with the pangs of irritation shooting through his knob. On the one hand Ted's conscience told him what he was letting his son do was wrong and that he should stop him, but the other side of his brain argued that both were enjoying it and nobody was being harmed. Let the kid have a bit of fun. Both sides were still arguing when Taylor finally released his organ, now fully erect and jutting out from! his father's body.

"It's huge," Taylor said, his eyes wide and appreciative as he admired his father's thick, seven-inch [18 cm] dick.

"I think its time we had a look at just how big yours is now," Ted said as he crouched down on his haunches. He was feeling randy as hell and guilty at the same time, just as he'd felt jerking off in the bathroom twenty years ago as a thirteen-year-old. Comparing was perfectly natural, and they could stop any time they wanted he rationalized as he reached out and grasped the tab of his son's fly.

"It's way small."

"Doesn't feel that small," Ted observed as he ran his finger tip over the slight bulge in the boy's blue jeans.

Taylor smiled, not because of the touch but because of his dad's comment, and the remaining doubt in Ted's mind dissolved with that smile. How could this be wrong when he made his son feel so good? Undoing his belt and unbuttoning the button, he eased the boy's jeans down to his ankles. He was not wearing shoes, and he held onto his dad's shoulders as he stepped out of them. He stood there watching his dad expectantly, the pocket of his little white jockey briefs jutting out. He giggled with that delightful high-pitched giggle of a six-year-old as his dad struggled with his underwear as they hooked up on his tiny erection. Stretching out the elastic band, Ted unhooked the white undies from his little, stiff pricklet and easing them down his slender legs, held them as Taylor stepped out of them.

Picking his son up, he sat him on the workbench. His son's little cocklet was the size of his pinky in length and thickness. It was a whitish pink and stuck straight up in the air parallel to his smooth, flat stomach. The skin was still stretched up over the slight knob. He could not remember being stiff at that age, though he certainly remembered playing with himself, and feeling good as far back as four.

"You can touch it if you want," Taylor offered.

Ted reached over and took his son's little pricklet between his thumb and his index and forefingers. It felt so small and dainty, and yet so hard and hot at the same time. He slowly pulled down the skin and revealed the bright red, flushed knob. Taylor squirmed and placed his hands on his dad's shoulders.

"It feels weird when the skin is pulled back."

"Does it hurt?"

"Oh no! It feels wicked good!"

Ted smiled. Every generation had their own language. For him it would have felt far out. His father had once told him in his day the word would have been swift. He and his father would never have used it in this context however, and in a way he suddenly felt that was too bad.

"You like the way yours feels when it's hard?" asked Taylor.

"Yes I do."

"Doesn't it hurt?"

"No."

"Mine does. It wants me to squeeze it and rub it."

"Oh," Ted chuckled. "Yeah, mine hurts that way too."

"Billy says it feels neato when it's up a bum."

"He does, does he?" Ted asked, wondering if that was what Bobby told him, or if Billy was speaking from experience, and if so, whose bum he'd had his little boy dick up. That he would have engaged in such an act seemed impossible considering his nephew's age, but what he and his six-year-old son were doing at that moment he would have said was impossible a day ago too.

"You ready to fuck me now?"

"Well," said Ted, realizing, reluctantly, that the time had come to put this to an end. "Getting each other hard, and comparing is one thing, but, well, fucking is something else." As uncomfortable as he was using it, the f-word seemed the appropriate word to use under the circumstances. "That isn't something to be taken lightly, or for people to jump into," he explained, and from the look on Taylor's face he knew the boy was not understanding a word. "Besides, as you can see, mine is very big, and well, I'm afraid you're, well, you're much too small for it." That he knew the boy would be able to understand.

"Billy said Bobby's way big and that him and Bobby use some grease stuff to make it easier. You and mom use anything to make it slippery so you can put it in her?"

"No, not anymore."

"Oh," Taylor said dejectedly. Then suddenly his eyes lighted up. "I know! We could use the oil you use on the gears on my bike!"

"Well…"

"Remember when I got my head stuck in that fence, and you went and got it and squirted it on my neck, and it slipped right out? You said I was like a little greased pig. Remember?"

"Well, yes, but well, really Taylor, I don't think it's possible for a man and boy to do what you're saying without it hurting a lot. Especially you and me. I'm much too big."

"We can try can't we?" Taylor asked plaintively as he looked in his fathers eyes.

"Very well," Ted agreed.

"Neato!" Taylor shouted. "I know where the oil can is!" Jumping off the work bench and dragging the footstool over to the cupboard, he began to search for it.

Ted smiled. Cheryl had said that his son had him wrapped about his little finger, and she was right. That was not why he'd agreed however. This was his way out without being the meanie. They could try it, and of course it would be impossible. Taylor would find it too painful, and that would be the end of the matter. He'd offer to take him to Dairy Queen to cheer him up, and buy him some new Pokemon cards.

Taylor returned triumphantly with the oil can. "Can I put it on you? Please?"

Ted nodded. The boy excitedly pumped the handle of the can, squirting the amber-coloured oil on his dad's still stiff dick. He thoroughly coated the knob until it was running down his shaft in amber rivulets. "Now you can do my bum!" he said excitedly, turning around and bending over.

Ted hesitated, and then squatting down, he placed the tip of the oil can against his son's small, pink pucker. It was so tiny he knew he'd made the right decision. There was no way his humongous cock was going to penetrate that tiny hole. As he squeezed the handle and the oil squirted over the little anus and down the inside of the boy's thighs, the image of his cock squirting his semen up his son's little rectum and running down his thighs came to his mind and his stiff cock twitched excitedly. The copious coating of oil had run down his shaft and had collected in globules in the hair of his balls. Well, it was just a fantasy. It was not going to happen. He hesitated, and then slipping the tip of the nozzle into his son's oiled anus, he squeezed the can again. Taylor giggled as he felt the oil squirt up his rectum. Ted knew if he only put a little in, he would be sure that it would hurt the boy too badly for them to continue, but he didn't want to hurt the boy too! much. He put in another two squirts.

Standing on the footstool Ted had made for him so he could work at the bench along with his dad, Taylor grasped the edge of the bench and braced himself. Ted, his cock stiff and glistening with oil in the light of the naked bulb in the workroom, shuffled up behind him, his trousers and boxers about his ankles. Placing the tip of his penis against his son's hole, he slowly pushed forward. Taylor giggled and pushed back. Ted felt his boy's anus stretching, slowly sliding along the tip of his oiled cock. He'd go extra slow, and the moment the boy flinched, he'd call it quits. Of course Taylor would be disappointed, but he'd see that it was impossible for them. Ever so slowly, Ted pressed his hips forward. He felt Taylor eagerly push back. The tip of his cock was now wedged in the boy's butt. Taylor would call out for him to quit any second now. He pushed forward a bit more. Taylor pushed out with his rectum as Billy had told him to. Ted felt his large dick slid in! another fraction. The boy's tight sphincter was beginning to hurt his sensitive knob.

"I'm sorry. I'm much too big," Ted decided to announce as he stopped.

"Just try a little more, please Dad?" his son asked desperately.

How could he not? Just a little more. He pushed a bit harder, and his cock slipped in a bit more. At least half of his knob was now up his son's hole. Any second now he expected him to call out for him to stop, or if he was that determined to suffer the pain so they could do it, something he knew Taylor would do, to at least flinch with the pain so he could call it quits. He had to admit it was highly erotic. It was almost like the night he'd deflowered his virgin wife. In her case, though, she had not been anywhere near so tight, and, he suddenly realized, not so eager.

"Oh! Stop!" Taylor suddenly called out.

Ted immediately stopped and quickly drew back, relieved that they had arrived at the point he'd been waiting for, but with a feeling of disappointment they had to stop. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It weren't hurtin'," Taylor responded. "We forgot to put in the baby seed."

"Oh, yeah," said Ted with a smile. Searching on the counter, he found the pill bottle containing the four cylindrical three-quarter inch [2 cm] suppositories. Humouring his son, he knelt down and easily slipped the tan suppository up his well-oiled anus. At least now Billy and Taylor would know that he really had tried.

As Taylor felt the tip of his dad's oiled dick press against his bumhole once again, he inhaled deeply and pushed out with all his might. His dad's huge cockhead slowly began to stretch open his hole once more, much to his delight. Billy had warned him that it would hurt at first, but he didn't care, and no matter how much it hurt, he wasn't going to say anything. As his dad's fingers tightened about his hips, he inhaled once more and pushed out just like Billy had told him, forcing his anus open just like he was taking a big poop like Billy had said. Billy knew about this stuff so it had to be right. As he felt the oiled knob of his dad stretching apart his anus, he grunted and panted, and pushed with all his strength. His dad's penis entered a bit more, giving the six-year-old the incentive to push all the harder. He inhaled sharply and deeply, and pushed with his stomach muscles. It was hurting, hurting a lot more than he thought it would, but he didn't care. He wanted a baby, and he wanted to please his dad. Panting and gasping, he pushed out again as his dad grasped his hips and slowly pushed forward.

And then he was in. He felt his anal sphincter slip over the ridge of his dad's knob and then close behind it. It hadn't closed right up of course, but it wasn't stretched as far open. Panting and gasping like he'd peddled all the way up Beacon Hill, he tentatively and slowly pushed his butt back just a fraction. His father's knob sunk a fraction deeper up his rectum. All he had to do is slide back along his father's oiled shaft and it would slide up his butt! His dad had half his dinky stuck up his bum. His dad's dinky was right inside him, and it felt wicked! He slowly pushed back another fraction.

Ted could not believe it had actually happened. He had been pressing his stiff dick against his son's butthole extremely slowly, fully intending on stopping at the same point as Taylor had stopped him if the boy didn't stop him sooner. That had been far enough. With each tiny push forward, he told himself the next push would be his last, but then gave in to the temptation to push one more time. Then suddenly and before he could do anything about it, he felt the boy's sphincter slide over the edge of his knob and clamp down behind it. Of course he had stopped instantly, but then Taylor had pushed back, pushing his cock in just a fraction deeper, and then another fraction. Now the knob of his cock was firmly imbedded up his son's ass. He had not intended on going that far, and did not know what to do now. One thing was evident-he could no longer use the excuse that he was too big to fit up his son's hole.

He was still recovering from his surprise when Taylor again slowly pushed back, sliding down on his stiff, oiled cock and sinking his knob deeper into his little body. That he'd actually get his cock in his young son was totally unexpected, and that the boy would push back to drive it in deeper was an even greater surprise. He stood there motionlessly as his six-year-old son continued to slowly ease his butt back, gradually sliding his anus along his thick prong. His inertness was not because of shock, or because he didn't want his cock buried deeper up his son's backside, but because he figured this was the safest way to penetrate him. Allowing Taylor to back down on his cock, he would not have to worry about hurting him by penetrating too deeply nor too quickly. Inch by inch his boy pushed back, until his smooth little butt was nestled in his lap.

Grasping the boy's smooth, small hips, he slowly drew his hips back, easing his cock out of the boy's buttocks. Feeling his knob reach the boy's sphincter, he stopped and slowly eased his hips forward, driving his cock back up his young son's rectum.

"Are you all right?" he whispered. "I'm not hurting you?"

"Uh-un," came the reply. "It feels wicked."

That it did. Having his cock totally enclosed by a tight, hot, moist rectum was undescribable. He slowly drew it back out, and slowly sunk it back in again, starting up a rhythm. In and out, in and out, he slowly rocked back and forth, easing the organ that had carried the seed that had produced his boy in and out of his boy's hot, pulsating rectum. He marvelled at the tightness of the boy's asshole. It was far tighter than his wife had been on their honeymoon when he'd taken her virginity. He marvelled at the heat and moisture of the boy's rectum, just as hot and moist as any cunt, and, in fact, far better as it was not so loose and slimy. As he worked his large, seven-inch [18 cm] cock in and out of the boy, he delighted in the sensation. He could not get over it. He was actually fucking his son! He was fucking his six-year-old boy!

Taylor was in the same state of awe as he felt the long, hard cock easing in and out of his body. Billy had been so right. This was the best, most awesome feeling in the world. At first it had hurt badly and he'd almost said for his dad to stop, but after convincing him to do it with him, he felt like he couldn't very well tell him he no longer wanted to do it. Besides, he did want to do it, he wanted to make a baby with his dad, and he wanted his dad to feel good. Most important of all, though, was his hope that once his father did it and found out how good it felt, he wouldn't be so mad at Bobby and Billy.

Now as his dad began to fuck him, he was glad that he hadn't told his dad to stop. The pain was gone and in its place was an erotic, stimulating sensation that he could only describe as being like taking a big poop with the bm never ending. It had been a strange feeling to have his bumhole stretched and stuffed, and it was even weirder being fucked. His bumhole itched and burned in a strange, pleasant sort of way, and as he felt his dad's hard, hot cock slowly withdraw and then slowly sink back in his rectum, he shivered with the strange sensation. His bumhole felt so itchy and yet so pleasant as the thick cock eased in and out of it. It felt so wonderful having a cock pumping in and out of his bottom, and the fact that it was his dad who was fucking him made it even more wonderful. He and his dad were making a baby, their very own baby! That was so wicked!

Ted was finding it highly erotic also. As he began to speed up, he grasped his young son's smooth buttocks more tightly and Taylor clutched onto the edge of the workbench more firmly. His well-oiled asshole and Ted's well-oiled cock resulted in a slicking noise as Ted increased his speed and began thrusting his thick cock in and out of his six-year-old son. As he eagerly pumped his boy's tender ass, oil dribbled down his thigh and dripped off his balls to land on his boxers tangled about his ankles. He ran his hands up along his son's waist and along his ribs, leaving a smear of oil along his ribs and staining his pale blue Scooby Doo T-shirt. He was working furiously now, desperate to reach his climax, and Taylor squirmed and gasped as he felt a strange tension building in his loins. Faster and faster Ted fucked, and the tension in the pit of his son's groin grew stronger and stronger.

Finally he exploded, shooting his hot load into his boy. It was totally awesome, both the physical ejaculation and the awareness that he was planting his seed up his young son's little bottom. It was so erotic, he blasted out a load far more copious and far more violently than he'd shot for many years. It was as if the spurts were never going to end. As he quivered and sighed with the pleasure, Taylor quivered and sighed also. Waves of pleasure originating somewhere in the middle of his pelvis swept over his lower body and caused him to jerk uncontrollably. It was the most awesome sensation, the two of them joined physically and trembling together in orgasm. When it was finally over, Ted stood there and hugged his son tightly for the longest time before pulling out his still stiff cock.

Taylor turned and looked up at his dad. "Did you like it?" he asked, his cheeks flushed and his chocolate-brown eyes hopeful.

"Like it?" his dad asked. "It was wonderful!"

"Me too," Taylor said with a boyish grin. "Wanna do it again?"

Ted smiled. Even on his wedding night he hadn't turned around and done it again less than a minute after pulling out of his wife. He was up, however, and the thought of experiencing that pleasure again sent a rush through his heart that made it ache. With a slow smile, he nodded.

"Neato!" his boy replied, his eyes bright and a huge grin spreading across his face. Glancing around the workroom, he jumped off the stool and up onto the sawhorse. "Fuck me here!" he called, his little legs dangling and kicking as he bent over the horse.

Ted slipped off his runners and stepped out of his trousers and boxers. He hesitated for a second, and then unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. Seeing his dad stripping down to just his socks, Taylor jumped down from the saw horse and slipped his Scooby Doo T-shirt over his head so that he too was just wearing his socks. Glancing around the workroom, Ted picked up several greasy towels hanging on the peg board that he kept around to wipe off whatever it was that he was working on at the moment. Folding them up, he placed them on the sawhorse to cushion his son's naked body.

"We need to put oil on again?" asked Taylor.

"No, I don't think so," his father replied. "I'm still pretty well oiled, and I'm sure your rectum is also."

"Uh-huh," Taylor giggled as his father reached down and squeezed his still stiff cock. "What's that?" he asked, his voice reflecting a hint of worry, as his father squeezed out the last droplets of cum.

"That's my baby-making seed," Ted replied with a smile. "That's how you began, just as a little puddle of baby-making cum."

"Yeah?" Taylor asked, his eyes growing wide as he continued to stare at the droplet of cum. "Awesome!"

"You can feel it if you want," Ted offered.

Taylor tentatively stuck out his index finger and touched the thick droplet. He rubbed the film stuck to his finger between his finger and his thumb. He then slowly reached behind him and felt his now sticky hole. "Did you put some of that up my bum?" he asked.

"I put a lot up your bum," Ted said with a smile, and his six-year-old son giggled.

"My bum wants more," he giggled as he looked up at his father impishly with his chocolate-brown eyes.

"And I want to give it more," responded Ted.

Taylor hoisted himself up on the sawhorse and lay across the oily rags so that the three-foot-ten [1.17 m] youngster's waist was supported by the horse and his legs were dangling and swinging in the air. His father stepped up behind him and placed the tip of his rock hard cock against his small, wet hole. Taylor immediately pushed out. Ted's dick was still well oiled, and Taylor's bottom was now lubed with his cum besides oil. Both now also had previous experience. As Ted slowly pushed forward, Taylor pushed out with his rectum, and the two were sufficiently hot and oiled that Ted slid his cock back up his son's hole without any major difficulty. His copious load of cum certainly helped make their second union easier.

He began slowly, as he had the first time, gradually easing his thick, seven-inch [18 cm] bone in and out of the young boy's tender butt. Once again he marvelled at how hot and moist the boy's rectum felt, and how tight he was. Knowing that some of that moistness was the load of cum that he'd deposited up his son's rectum only minutes earlier added to the eroticism of the situation. Taylor, meanwhile, was delighting in the strange sensation of having his tiny rectum stuffed with his father's hard, hot cock. It felt so strange to feel the thick, solid object easing up his bum, and then slowly easing back out. Ripples of irritation pulsated from his anal ring, causing his entire rectum to itch furiously. Of course the hard, hot flesh easing in and out of his hole helped to relieve him of that itch tremendously.

Ted could only hold back for so long. The pleasure was too much, and his need too great. Grasping his son's smooth, slender hips, he began to quicken his pace. The faster he worked the more the edge of his knob itched with arousal, and the more that it itched the faster he worked his cock in and out of the tight boy hole. As he slammed forward, the sawhorse tipped and Taylor shrieked with pleasure. As he drew back, the sawhorse righted itself and Taylor groaned loudly with delight. His son didn't hold back his feelings, and neither did he as he grunted and inhaled deeply with the lust pulsating between his legs. It was totally fantastic. Rapidly drawing his hips back and then slamming into his boy again and again, he grunted and gasped like an elk in heat, and so did his son. Over and over the sawhorse rocked back and forth as he drove his aching cock in and out of his little son's rectum, delighting in the heat and the moisture of the boy's tight asshole.

As he drew back, Taylor clenched his asshole tight around the massive cock sliding out of his body, and as he lunged forward Taylor pushed out and quivered with the pleasure pulsating deep up his butt. He felt his dad's hairy chest press against his back as he leaned against the boy and began to thrust his body back and forth rapidly in short jabs. His dad slipped his left hand around and under him, and holding his stomach up as he thrust in and out, he slipped his right hand around the other side. Feeling his dad's large, thick fingers wrap about his little stiff willie, he squirmed uncontrollably as his dad began to tug on his tiny, sensitive flesh. The pulsating pleasure deep up his butt was joined by the sharp, itchy sensation that was so new to him and that made his little willie burn with pleasure. His dad pumped his little stiff dickie with his thumb and first two fingers as fast as he could and his hot breath panted against the back of his neck.

Taylor once again felt the strange tension building in his groin, and once again it built until his body suddenly began to spasm uncontrollably. He cried out with the immense and strange pleasure ripping through his groin, and then his dad thrust forward and at the same time pressed his hand against his tummy and groaned as if he was in pain. Taylor knew now that meant he was shooting his baby seed up his bum, and he trembled with not just the pleasure of his own dry orgasm, but with the knowledge that his dad was shooting his stuff into him.

Still panting with the exertion and the pleasure several minutes later, Ted carefully eased his cock out of his son's butt and leaned back against his workbench. Taylor slipped off the sawhorse and turned around, and Ted's heart leaped in alarm at the sight of the red band across his waist and the red imprint of his large hand on his son's white tummy.

"Geeez, Dad, that was even better than the first time," Taylor sighed as he leaned back against the sawhorse, his cheeks flushed with arousal and his big brown eyes wide with wonder.

Ted smiled with relief, and Taylor smiled back, his ruby-red lips parted and his smooth, little chest rising and falling as he panted with the combination of pleasure and exertion. It took father and son a long time to catch their breaths. As Ted leaned there against the bench and looked down at his son, at his naked, sweat-streaked body and the smears of oil and the post-climatic daze of pleasure in his eyes, he could not believe how fantastic it had been.

"Well, sport," he finally said. "I think we'd better go upstairs and have a shower."

"Kay," came the reply, his son still in cloud of pleasure from their wild fuck session.

They showered together, just as they used to when his son was three and they were out camping, when he was at an age where a father and son together in a shower didn't raise eyebrows. The warm water splashed down on them, trickling over their bodies and refreshing them. Ted soaped up his body and then handing the bar to his son he worked up a lather over his arms, legs, chest and stomach. As he worked the soap into his hairs and spread the lather over his balls and limp cock, he noticed Taylor watching him and then copying him.

Ted smiled, and then crouched down and had his son turn around so he could lather up his back, his tiny, smooth buttocks, and the backs of his legs. He was particularly gentle as he ran a soapy finger along the boy's butt crack. He then turned and his son did the same for him, having to stand on his toes and reach up to lather his dad's back. It felt strange to have his little, soapy hands running over his broad back, and despite having just cum twice, when he felt the six-year-old's hands running over his hairy butt and his soapy fingers slipping up his crack, he felt his dick begin to swell. The boy spent a long time washing his crack and hole, or so it seemed.

The two turned to face each other and let the water rinse them off. It ran down their chests and over their stomachs and along the length of their semierect dicks and off the tips as if they were peeing. The boy giggled and moved closer, pretending to be peeing as the water ran off his little willie and down his dad's leg. Ted laughed, and feeling six again, the thirty-five-year-old adult joined in the game, letting the water run off his flaccid cock and over his boy's genitals. Taylor giggled, and Ted noticed that his little willie was beginning to lift up. He kept his position and soon his little son's willie was standing up fully erect and jerking with arousal. He himself was quickly swelling, his cock now five inches [12½ cm] and growing.

"It wants to fuck me again!" the boy giggled as he watched his father's cock slowly lifting up.

"And what do you want?" Ted asked, a hint of hope in his voice.

"I want it up my bumhole some more," the boy said. "I wanna fuck in the shower."

And so they did. Raising the boy up so he was standing on the rim of the tub and leaning forward with his arms stretched forward and his palms flat against the tiles at the front of the shower, Ted spread apart his butt cheeks and soaped up his eager little hole. He lathered his middle finger and slowly eased it into the boy, and then worked it in and out, thoroughly soaping his rectum. Then, after soaping up his stiff cock, he rinsed off his hands, and slipping his hands around the boy and pressing them against each side of his stomach, he shuffled up behind him. With himself being five-foot-ten [1.78 m], and his son three-foot-ten [1.17 m], the extra height of the rim of the tub placed his six-year-old son's butthole at just the right height.

Feeling the hot, spongy knob of his dad's soaped cock pressing against his butthole, Taylor pushed out and inhaled deeply. For the third time that afternoon he felt his dad's stiff cock enter his body. He grunted as he pushed out with his stomach, and as he felt the hard, hot tube slowly ease into him, he was so glad that his cousin had told him about making a baby. The sensation of being penetrated was one of the most exciting feelings there could be, and when that penetration was by your dad, it had to be the best of all.

With his large hands about his slender, forty-eight pound [22 kg] son's waist, the fingers spread over his smooth, flat stomach and his thumbs extended to the back, Ted slowly began to sway to and fro, slowly easing his soapy cock out of his boy's rectum and then slowly easing it back in. Helping the boy keep his balance on the rim of the tub, and at the same time holding onto his son to keep his own balance, he fucked slowly. The new position was like doing it for the first time, and unlike the violent lust of the second time, this time he moved carefully and slowly with a gentleness and a love that caused his heart to swell in his chest.

As they slowly fucked there in the shower, the warm water cascaded down over their bodies, down over their chests and stomachs and down their thighs in tiny rivulets. The father's dark brown hair was plastered to his body while the rivulets ran unobstructed down the smooth, hairless body of the son. The man's body, a hundred-and-sixty-five pounds [75 kg], muscular, and angular, contrasted with the boy's forty-eight pounds [22 kg], his chest still soft with pads of baby fat and his arms and legs softly contoured. The father's hands, large and thick fingered, grasped the son's waist, and the son's soft, pink fingers spread out against the dark tiles of the bathtub. The little boy's dinky, two inches [5 cm] and as thick as a man's smallest finger, throbbed with a pleasure created by the massaging of his prostate, and the man's cock, seven inches [18 cm] long and three fingers thick, throbbed with the pleasure of being gripped by the son's tight asshole.

Slowly the two reached their orgasms, and as the father filled the son's asshole with his cum for the third time in less than three hours, the son quivered and squirmed with his third dry orgasm. The father sighed with a pleasure he had never imagined he'd ever experience with his boy, and the son sighed with a pleasure that he'd been dreaming and wishing he could experience with his dad for months. Later, as Ted prepared stir fry for their evening meal and Taylor lay on the floor in the family room and watched television, they were content and at peace.

It was not until his wife drove into the driveway that Ted really thought about what he'd done. Sitting there at the table eating, he felt a strange feeling come over him as he looked over at his wife and then at his son. His relationship to the two, and his feelings toward them, had changed drastically. That night, as Ted retired, he could not believe what he'd done. He'd fucked his own son. Not only that, but the boy was only six. How could he have done it? What had possessed him? He was a mature, responsible, thirty-five-year-old adult. Had the statue some magical, demonic powers? Suddenly remembering he had left the statue sitting there on the workbench, he got up and went down to the basement. Cheryl never went into the workroom, but he could not take a chance that this one time she might. It would be difficult to explain where the statue came from, and why he had it. Even worse, knowing her, she would be revolted by its appearance and would toss it away even though it was clearly his, and he had promised Billy he'd return it. Turning on the light, he was surprised that it was not where he'd left it although the vial with the three remaining suppositories was still there. He searched the counter, and the cupboards, but it was nowhere to be found. He knew Cheryl had not gone downstairs, so Taylor must have put it away.

As he headed back up the stairs, he wondered what his son had been thinking that night. What would any six-year-old think after being fucked by his dad three times in an afternoon? Three times! And each time had been so different, and each time had been so good. Ted shook his head. How could lustfully fucking his little son twice in his workroom and then fucking him a third time in the shower be good? What sort of father could even think that? Pausing at his son's bedroom, he slowly opened the door and looked inside. He had to be sure the boy was all right, that he had not harmed him, physically or otherwise. The boy would be asleep, hopefully, but he could at least check out his tender little backside and be sure it wasn't bleeding or anything.

As he approached the bed and looked down at the boy laying there in his soft, woollen two-piece pajamas, white and fluffy and with bright Pokemon symbols, he looked so young and angelic. His long, brown eyelashes, his smooth, rosy cheeks, his fine, soft hair so clean and fresh, his pert little boy mouth so rosy, Ted could not understand how anyone could not want a hundred sons, or how anyone could possibly want to hurt such a sweet child. As he crouched down on his haunches, he gently brushed the soft hair back up across his son's forehead. The boy slowly opened his eyes and he looked up at his dad sleepily. His lips slowly curled into a smile.

"I was hoping you'd come to do it again," he said softly.

The happiness in his eyes and pure delight in his young, high-pitched voice left no doubt in Ted's mind. The boy silently slipped out from under the blankets and shuffled over as his father lay down on the bed beside him. Ted had left his pajamas tops open as he usually did, and Taylor reached over and ran his little fingers through his dad's thick, coarse chest hair. His chocolate-brown eyes concentrated with boyish wonder as he watched the hair curl about his fingers. Ted reached over and slowly pushed his son's Pokemon pajamas tops up, revealing his soft, full chest. He ran his fingers over the boy's smooth skin and massaged the fleshy pads of his breasts.

The two were content to lie there and caress each other, each delighting in the other's presence, each delighting in the feel of the other, and being felt by the other. Finally the boy ran his little hand down his father's chest, following the line of hair to the elastic band of his dad's tan, fine-striped Calvin Klein sleep pants. Slipping his little hand under the dark brown band, he continued down until he found his dad's soft, limp willie and his large, warm balls. His eyes half closed and his lips slowly curling into a dreamy smile, he began to fiddle with his dad's willie and testicles as he often did with his own before going to sleep.

In the light of the moon shining in through the window, Ted could see the little boy's fluffy pajamas bottoms were tented out. While the boy fiddled with his slowly swelling dick, he pushed his Pokemon print pajamas bottoms down over his hips, revealing his delightful little erection. He slipped his large fingers about it and tugged on it gently, causing the boy to squirm with pleasure and to tug on his own cock more determinedly. Father and son said nothing as they lie there fondling each other with a love and tenderness one would hope existed between all parents and their children.

Half an hour later as he lay there on his side, his tan sleep pants tangled about his ankles and his son's naked backside pressed up against his crotch, the tip of his flaccid cock wet with his spent cum and his sleeping son breathing slowly and deeply with contentment while down the hall his wife slumbered in ignorance, Ted knew what kind of father he was. Drawing his sleeping son closer to him, he wished with all his heart that the boys' foolish fantasy about being able to make babies could be true.

Chapter 12

The next day his uncle Ted had come by to tell him everything was all right, except that somehow the statue had disappeared. He was quite relieved when Billy told him that was what happened once that statue's job was done, and now all he had to do was to keep fucking Taylor for the next four weeks until they used up the baby making pills. He'd smiled when Billy had told him that, and Billy knew his uncle didn't really believe him despite everything that had happened. That had caused Billy to smile. His uncle would find out soon enough, and so would Taylor. Billy thought back to when he'd been carrying Billy Bob. That had been exciting, and scarey. Of course in his case, neither he nor Bobby knew anything about what was happening.

Anyway, his uncle had said he wished there was some way he could make up for the worry he'd caused him and Bobby, and when he'd told his uncle that he was just glad Bobby wasn't going to be spending his birthday in jail, that was when his uncle had a most brilliant idea. He'd phoned Bobby to see when they could do it, and Bobby said if that was what he really wanted to do, this Saturday would be all right. Billy could not believe it when he'd heard it, and he still could not believe it. Saturday was Bobby's forty-third birthday, and instead of spending it with his wife, he was going to spend it with him!

The rest of the week went by with agonizing slowness, and now that Saturday had finally arrived, it seemed like it was never going to be six p.m.. For that evening Billy had put on the tie and the dark-brown suit he'd worn in June when he was ring-bearer for his aunt, his father's younger sister. He was dressed and ready to go by four o'clock. For the next two hours he paced in front of the picture window in the living room, certain that the clock on the wall had broken it was moving so slowly. Finally he saw Bobby's car pull into the driveway. Grabbing his coat and hollering goodbye to his mom and dad, he was out the door before he heard their response. As Billy ran up to the car, Bobby leaned over and opened the door.

"Hey, hey! Aren't we looking sharp!" Bobby exclaimed.

"You too," Billy said with a wide grin as he climbed into the front seat. Bobby was wearing a tan sports jacket and black slacks with the tie Billy had given him last Christmas and Old Spice cologne, which made him smell great. Billy Bob was strapped into his seat in the back, bundled up in a purple and white snowsuit.

"Grrrrr," he said, looking up at Billy and baring his teeth.

"Hope you don't mind if we bring this dinosaur with us," Bobby said with a smile. "He's been following me around all day."

"Hey, I think that would fun to have dinner with a dinosaur," he said with a grin.

"Grrrr," replied the dinosaur as he tried to break out of his baby seat.

On the way to the restaurant they talked about the usual things, school, Bobby's last trip, and mostly about Billy Bob.

"History is real interesting this year. Right now we're taking about ancient Egypt and the pharaohs and stuff. Math is sortta hard though. I don't know why we gotta learn to divide by long numbers when we got calculators."

"Ancient history was one of my favourites too," observed Bobby. "As for math, it's important to be able to do things on your own without a machine. When I'm hauling, I estimate how far the next big city is or where I'll be for lunch in my head."

"So how was your trip to Seattle anyway?"

"Pretty boring. But the weather was great so I made good time. November is one of the worst months for a trucker, especially if you have trips in the north. You never know when a blizzard might hit. Once December sets in, the weather is much more settled."

"Bet Billy Bob missed you."

"Yeah, but I don't like to take him with me in the winter, at least not on long hauls. Weather and roads are too chancy, and he doesn't have the fat reserves I do if we get stranded."

"Well, I like your fat reserves," Billy said with a grin, looking over at his beefy lover. At six-foot-four [1.93 m] and two-hundred and seventy pounds [122 kg], Bobby was a big man, and despite his comment, he kept himself in good shape. Most of that two-hundred-and-seventy pounds [122 kg] was solid muscle.

"Billy Bob needs to be with others his age anyway, not spending all day with me. It's important that he learn how to play with other kids, and learn to obey other adults. He is really fitting in at the day care. Everyone just falls in love with him."

"Course," observed Billy, looking at his three-year-old son and smiling. "How can anyone not love someone like Billy Bob?"

His mitten having come off, the youngster was preoccupied trying to put it back on and didn't notice the attention of his two parents. Bobby had been taking Billy Bob to the day care more and more often since they had returned from their summer holiday to get him use to being with other children his age. The staff had taken an instant liking to him, and he seemed to be getting along remarkably well with all the other children. He seemed to have a charm that one could not resist, and that was not just the opinion of his doting parents. He played remarkably well with the other three-year-olds, was eager to help look after those who were younger, and seemed to have been adopted as everyone's little brother by the older children.

Arriving at Hi's Steak and Lobster House, Bobby's favourite restaurant, they took off their coats, removed Billy Bob's snowsuit, and approached the front desk. Billy Bob was wearing a pair of tan trousers and a long-sleeved dinosaur print shirt.

"Good evening," the young waitress greeted, looking up at Bobby.

"We have a reservation," Billy said. The waitress smiled at him, sort of a condescending you're-cute-but-this-is-grownup-stuff smile, and looked back up at Bobby.

"He's in charge," Bobby advised, a twinkle in his soft brown eyes as he looked down at Billy.

"And the name?" she asked, a bit surprised.

"Billy," Billy responded. "Billy Wilson."

"Ah, yes, here it is. Mister Wilson," she said. "Right this way."

Taking them to their table, she arranged for a high chair to be brought for Billy Bob. This had sounded like a great idea when his Uncle Ted had suggested it, but sitting there in the fancy restaurant, Billy suddenly felt very self-conscious and very nervous. He ordered a Root Beer for himself and a chocolate milk for Billy Bob and Bobby ordered a glass of wine. Carefully opening the menu so he wouldn't knock anything over, the ten-year-old's heart leaped. He had no idea what to order, and he was shocked at the prices. His uncle had given him a pile of money, and now he knew why.

When their waiter arrived, Bobby ordered the sixteen-ounce New York steak and lobster combination with baked potato, having been told by Billy's uncle ahead of time that cost was no object and that he'd given Billy enough money to cover anything he wanted to order. Just to be on the safe side, he'd brought extra cash himself. While they'd been waiting, Bobby had helped his young host with the menu and they had settled on Salisbury steak with baked potato for him and that they'd share their meals with Billy Bob. Helping their youngster out of his chair, they headed to the salad bar.

Billy Bob suddenly turned to Billy, and announcing, "I goin' eat you," bent over and play bit his rump.

"Smart dinosaur," observed Bobby with a grin. "Goes right to the choicest part to begin eating."

"Grrrr. I goin' eat you," announced the dinosaur, turning and biting Bobby in the crotch.

"Yeah, he sure does know," giggled Billy.

As they joined the line at the salad bar, their little dinosaur suddenly dashed ahead of them. Before they could stop him, he stepped up to the closest man. "Grrrrr. I goin' eat you," he announced, and immediately play bit him in the crotch.

"Billy Bob," reprimanded Bobby, immediately stepping up to him and placing his hand on his curly blond head.

"Grrrrr. I goin eat you gen," the dinosaur announced, twisting around to face his father.

Bobby held him at arm's distance before he could bite him where he was figuring he was planning. "We're really sorry," he said to the man as he restrained their youngster.

"Hey, no problem," the fellow said, looking down at Billy Bob with a smile. "Cute little fellow."

"Grrrrr," replied the cute little fellow as he tried to break away.

"With quite an appetite," he observed with a smile.

"He's been pretending to be a dinosaur all day," Bobby explained.

As they prepared to get their salad, their dinosaur broke away and headed directly to the next man, evidently the father of the two boys and girl in front of him. Billy Bob made the same announcement before biting the man on the buttock and then slipping in front of him to attack the boy, a youth in his late teens.

"Billy Bob, come back here," ordered Bobby.

"No. Din'saur hungry. Din'saur goin' eat everyone up," he replied, biting the teenager in the crotch and quickly moving on to his younger brother, who found the entire situation quite hilarious.

Actually, he got the same response from everyone he 'ate', who, if anyone had paid close attention, was not everyone in the line as he'd announced, but only the males. Bobby and Billy apologized for their youngster as Bobby tried to catch him, but a six-foot-four [1.93 m] two-hundred-and-seventy pound [122 kg] man in a salad line does not catch a three-foot [90 cm] thirty-pound [14 kg] three-year-old easily. Men and women alike assured the hefty trucker they did not mind. Who could get angry with a cute little blond-haired, blue-eyed dinosaur dressed in his finest clothes?

"Grrrrr, I goin' eat you," Billy Bob announced as he headed over to a boy who looked to be about twelve.

"Grrrr, no you won't," the boy replied as he bent over. "I'm a T-Rex. I'm gonna eat you."

"Grrrrr," the little dinosaur responded, and before the bigger dinosaur could defend himself, being hampered by the salad plate heaped with cheese and pickles he was carrying, he found his crotch being nibbled. The little dinosaur discovered, as he had with several of his other victims, that the bigger dinosaur did not mind being eaten.

By the time they returned to their table, everyone in the restaurant knew about the dinosaur on the premises. Not only that, they all felt particularly good, and the conversation and noise level in the restaurant was raised a level, and the mood was a good indicator of tips to come, which made the staff happy also. When the waiter served their meal, he of course was attacked by the dinosaur. A dark-haired, swarthy-skinned youth in his late teens or early twenties, there was more than one freshly aroused male in the restaurant that would not have minded eating him either. The youth could not explain it, but he felt pumped up just being by the three-year-old.

After all the eating he'd done, it was not a surprise that Billy Bob soon announced that he was full. He sat there quietly for a bit while Bobby and Billy enjoyed their meal and talked, and then quietly slipped off his seat.

"Oh shit," Bobby suddenly whispered.

"What?" asked Billy worriedly, glancing at Bobby. Looking over in the direction Bobby was looking, he saw that their dinosaur had disappeared. Frantically glancing about the restaurant, they spotted him approaching a table in the corner not far from them where the T-Rex was sitting. As Bobby began to get up, the three-year-old disappeared under the table. Shaking his head, he was about to head to the table when Billy reached out and stopped him. "Let's wait and see what happens. Maybe he'll just come back out."

Bobby sat back down and the two watched. After a moment, the T-Rex got a quizzical look on its face, and then after shuffling about in his chair for a moment, he dropped his napkin. Bending over to pick it up, he emerged a few seconds later with a sly grin.

The twelve-year-old boy could not believe it. The cute little kid going around biting everyone had just crawled under their table. When he'd looked under the table cloth and spotted him, the kid had looked up and had given him such an impish smile he could not believe the kid's daring. Actually, it was sort of funny to be sitting there at the table with the kid under it and his parents and sister not even knowing as they yabbered away. As he felt the kid squeeze between his legs, he spread them apart to help him get more comfortable.

The way the kid had 'eaten' several of the men had been hilarious, and arousing in a sort of way, especially when he had dived for guys' crotches. He could feel the kid feeling his stomach, and then to his surprise, he felt his fly being pulled down. The kid, who couldn't be more than three years old, was actually unzipping his pants! His first impulse was to reach down and push the goofy kid away, but as he was about to reach down the kid slipped his hand in his open fly and the boy paused. The kid's hot little hand pressing against his penis above his underwear caused it to immediately begin to swell. He was, after all, almost thirteen.

The little kid's actions were totally unexpected and unbelievable, but what he did next he would never have expected, and nobody would have believed him if he had told them. The little tyke's hot little hand slipped through the fly of his shorts and his little fingers wrapped about his now rapidly swelling dick. Up until then it had been a gas, and he had figured if the kid bumped up against his parents or his sister under the table it would be a major joke. Now as he felt his dick being slipped out of the opening in his underwear and through the fly of his jeans, the kid's discovery took on a whole different meaning. He felt his little body pressing in closer between his thighs, and his hot breath against his dick. No way was the little dinosaur going to eat him now!

He had no sooner thought that then he felt the boy's head descend and his hot, moist mouth slip over the tip of his dick. He'd never had his dick sucked before, but that could be the only thing that was happening! Something hot and moist had slipped over the knob of his cock, which was now totally hard and pounding with blood. The kid tightened his lips about his dick just below the bulb. As he concentrated, he could feel the kid's spit flowing over his dickhead, and sort of a pressure building up around it. The kid's tongue licked the tip of his stiff cock, sending a thrill down the core as it passed over his peehole.

As he concentrated on what was happening between his legs, he felt the strangest sensation begin to pass up the core of his dick. It was like he was taking a piss, but it had started at the tip of his cock rather than ending there, and it was flowing in the wrong direction, up his cock, not down. Also unlike the sudden gush of piss, this was as if it was in slow motion. He concentrated harder. It definitely felt as if something was flowing down the centre of his cock, from tip to base. The only thing it could be was the kid's spit. As the pressure about his dickhead increased and the sensation slowly eased along the core of his cock, the more convinced he was that that was what was happening. The kid was doing just what the name of the act suggested, he was blowing his cock. He was actually blowing his spit up the core. That thought was so erotic the boy almost shot a load right then and there. Fortunately his father's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"Nick, can't you sit still for just an hour?"

"Huh? Oh. Ah, yeah, sorry," Nick responded, not realizing he'd been squirming.

Of course he had been. How could he not? A little kid was under the table with his cock in his mouth and was blowing his spit up his bone right there in the restaurant and right in the middle of their meal! He inhaled deeply and fought the impulse to wiggle as the kid began to slip his mouth farther down his stiff cock, fraction by fraction until he had all four inches [10 cm] in his mouth and his hot breath was blowing out his nose and in Nick's still sparse and recently developed hairs.

The little tyke slowly drew his lips back up his shaft and over the ridge of his dickhead, and then he went back down. Fucking son of a bitch! He was getting the first blowjob of his life, from a three-year-old, and sitting there in a restaurant with his mom and dad and older sister. It was unbelievable, and it was fantastic, more fantastic than he'd ever imagined it would be like. Of course he'd imagined his first job being done by any one of the girls in his school who had recently begun to develop interesting breasts, or maybe one of the guys who everyone was suggesting was queer, not by a three-year-old boy.

The age and sex of the kid didn't really matter though. Having a mouth slipping up and down his stiff cock felt a hundred times better than his fist. It was the most awesome thing he'd ever felt, the physical sensation of having a hot, moist mouth totally surrounding his cock, the physical sensation of constantly increasing suction on his dickhead, and the mental reaffirmation he was getting his cock sucked. His dickhead was tingling with an arousal like he'd never felt before, and his entire dick was throbbing. He had never wanted to shoot a load so badly in all his life, and yet at the same time something seemed to be holding him back. Never had he felt such fierce stimulation for so long without shooting, not that he'd been jerking off for that long.

Then it finally happened. As he felt the still novel and amazing tension deep in his loin finally break and his stuff begin to gush up his cock, he could not help but squirm in his seat with the ultimate pleasure known to boy or man. For a split second he realized what a shock this was going to be to the kid and that he should pull his dick out of his mouth, but then it was spurting out his burning peehole and it was too late. Spurt after spurt erupted out of his cock. The hot thin cum of a boy still a month from his thirteenth birthday filled the mouth of the three-year-old whose mouth was already full of boy cock. It was the longest, most copious ejaculation he'd ever had, and the kid kept his lips fasted to his dick head throughout it all. It was the most awesome climax he'd ever experienced.

"Nick, are you all right?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, Mom, great," the boy sighed. "Ah, it's this meal. It's the best I've ever tasted."

"Oh, really," his mother responded.

"Ah, yeah, it's great."

"Better than your mother's cooking, son?" his father prompted.

"Huh? Oh, no, course not. Nothing's that good."

His mother smiled, satisfied with the complement even if it was prompted. Nick inhaled with a shudder as he tried to concentrate on the conversation above the table and what was happening under the table at the same time. He could not believe it as he felt the little kid's hot mouth begin sucking on his still stiff cock again. Not only had the little tyke taken all he'd had to offer and swallowed it, but he was sucking him dry besides, as if he could not get enough of his cum.

As he felt the kid's lips tighten about his cock and squeeze out his remaining juice, he wished there could be some way they could meet up again sometime. He had to experience this again. After another minute, he finally felt the boy's mouth slip off his cock and the boy draw away. He slowly reached down and with his heart pounding nervously, he slowly tucked his limp, sticky dick back in his pants and slowly zipped up his fly, watching the faces of his parents and sister for any sign they heard him. Slipping out from under the table beside him, little Billy Bob looked up at him with a huge grin, a thin trail of cum extending from the right corner of his mouth down around his chin. As the boy tottered back to his own table, Nick wondered what the man and boy at the table would say if he told them what the little tyke had done.

"Billy Bob, what have you been up to?" scolded Billy as the youngster rejoined them.

"I eated him," announced the baby dinosaur proudly as Bobby helped him up to his seat. Glancing over at the glassy-eyed twelve-year-old who was watching them closely but trying not to be obvious, and then looking down at his little boy, Bobby took the napkin and wiped the creamy trail off his chin.

'Holy crap,' thought the twelve-year-old, 'he's wiping my juice off the kid's face! And with the restaurant napkin!' A strange feeling passed over him and a quiver rippled up his back.

A bit later, while they were waiting for their desert to arrive, Billy excused himself and headed for the bathroom, purposefully walking past the table where Nick was. As he'd hoped, the boy soon joined him.

"Hi," Billy greeted, standing at the washbasins as the boy came in.

"Ah, hi," the boy responded. Glancing about and uncertain just what to do now he was there, he decided to step up to the urinals. He wanted to take a look at his dick after his first blow job anyway.

"Great restaurant, huh?"

"Ah, yeah," Nick replied as he pulled down his fly.

In the silence that followed Billy knew the boy was not taking a leak.

"That's quite a kid brother you got," Nick commented. Other than feeling a bit sticky and the knob looking a bit redder than usual, it didn't look any different.

"He's not my brother."

"Oh. Well, he's quite a kid. He came over and crawled under our table you know," Nick said, pulling up his fly as he turned around.

"Yeah, I seen him."

"You'll never guess what he did," the boy said, joining Billy at the washbasins. He was not sure if he should tell the kid what had happened or not. All he knew was that he had to find someway to meet the little tyke again. He wasn't sure just how to do that. The blond-haired boy at the washbasins looked too young and innocent to know anything about sex yet.

"What did he do?"

"You won't believe this."

"Try me."

"He gave me a blow job. You know what that is?"

"Yeah. You like it?"

"Oh yeah! You're not surprised?"

"No."

"Has he blown you?"

"Yeah. Lots of times."

"Should have known he'd had experience," the boy said, relieved that the younger boy wasn't upset. "I've never felt nothing like that."

"You really liked it, huh?"

"Oh yeah," the boy responded. He paused for a moment. "Would sure love to do it with him again sometime."

"Where you live?"

"Pine Hill."

"Don't know where that is."

"Northeast end of the city. It's a new district."

"Well, maybe we can see somehow. I dunno," Billy said with a shrug. "Billy Bob will want to do it of course. What is your phone number?"

"974-2243. You got email?"

The boys exchanged email addresses and headed back to their tables. After their desert, Bobby drove them to the Coast Plaza Hotel. As they stepped up to the registration desk, the clerk looked at Bobby.

"May I help you sir?"

"We have a reservation," announced Billy, as he'd been instructed. As at the restaurant, the receptionist looked at Billy, and then up at Bobby.

"I'm with him," Bobby replied with a shrug as he smiled to himself.

Confirming the reservation and paying for the room in cash, Billy was on top of the world. "Am I supposed to give him a tip too?" he asked. Back at the restaurant he'd carefully counted out his bills, and when the waiter had returned with his change, he was going to pick it all up when Bobby had instructed him on tipping.

"No," Bobby replied, a smile curling his lips.

"Tipping is confusing."

"You'll catch on soon enough," Bobby advised with a grin as they headed for the elevators. As they got off on their floor and headed down the hall, he thought back to the day he'd first met Billy in the paint section of the hardware store. A lot had happened to the two of them since then. Allowing Billy to lead the way, and to use the key card to open the door, he followed the boy into the room. "Nice," he observed, glancing around.

"Wow, yeah."

"This has been quite a birthday present."

"And we haven't got to the best part yet."

"You mean there's more?" Bobby asked, feigning innocence. "What is the best part?"

"Guess," Billy said with a giggle, stepping up to the hefty man and cupping his crotch. Lifting the boy up, Bobby planted a long, loving kiss on his lips.

"Billy Bob too, Billy Bob too," their little son announced, jumping up and down excitedly. Wrapping an arm about Billy's waist, Bobby reached down and scooped up the three-year-old with his other arm. Billy wrapped his legs about the hefty man's waist as Bobby hugged them both and kissed one and then the other.

Still holding the boys, he stepped back and sat down on the bed. As he fell back on the bed, much to their amusement, the two giggled and kissed him, one on each cheek. As Billy struggled with Bobby's tie, Billy Bob did his best to help, which actually made things more difficult. Then as Billy began to unbutton Bobby's shirt, the little tyke tried to help again, which was humorous in that he couldn't even undo his own buttons yet. Quickly giving up, the little boy decided instead to do what he did well, he snuggled back up to his large, hairy father and kissed him on the cheeks, and then on the lips. His breath smelled of the chocolate ice cream he'd had for dessert. Having finished unbuttoning his shirt and pulling it out of his trousers, Billy proceeded to struggle with his belt, and although Bobby was tempted to help, he lay back and let the boy do it himself. Unbuttoning the button on Bobby's slacks, no easy job in that he'd been gaining weight and needed to buy a larger pair, Billy drew down his fly. By this time both of them were partially aroused.

Bobby sat up and slipped off his shirt, and then lay back down and raised his hips so Billy, with Billy Bob's assistance, drew down his slacks, removing them along with his socks. The two quickly returned to draw down his boxers. The three of them kissed again, and Bobby asked Billy Bob to help him take Billy's clothes off, which the youngster eagerly agreed to do. While Bobby undid Billy's tie and undid the ten-year-old's shirt, Billy Bob drew down his fly and with much effort and concentration, pulled his shirt out of his pants. The two of them drew down his pants and removed them along with his shoes and socks, and he eagerly raised his hips to let them draw down his white jockey briefs.

"Your turn," announced Billy to Billy Bob.

"Gotta catch me," Billy Bob announced, scrambling off the bed.

It was a little game he and Bobby often played, especially on those evenings he was reluctant to go to bed at the appointed hour. Of course it got the three-year-old's adrenaline surging, but if he was making a fuss about bedtime, it likely was high anyway. Billy and Bobby gave chase, and the little tyke raced around the room. Of course he was not that fast, but he was small and agile, and gave them both a run. Had anyone from the neighbouring office building looked across into their room, they would have had quite a story to tell during coffee break the next day. Bobby, six-foot-four [1.93 m] and two-hundred-and-seventy pounds [122 kg], and Billy, four-foot-five [1.35 m] and sixty-four pounds [29 kg], both stark naked, chasing after a giggling three-year-old youngster, was certainly not a sight you see every day.

After letting him escape several times, Bobby and Billy finally cornered him, and with Bobby taking his arms and Billy his legs, the two carried the hysterically giggling toddler over to the bed. While Bobby unbuttoned his dinosaur print shirt, Billy slipped off his runners and little socks, and then the two of them drew down his trousers and his tiny Winnie the Pooh underwear. Now all three totally naked, Bobby lay down on his back and the two boys snuggled up to him, one on each side. He wrapped his large, muscular arms about them and cupped each smooth, delightful backside with a beefy hand as he drew them to him. The two boys reached out and wrapped their arms about his expansive, hairy chest, and they kissed him on the cheeks once again.

Bobby began to run his fingers through his hairy bear's long, thick chest hair and Billy Bob began to fiddle with his right teat, playing with it with his small, soft fingers, caressing it and gently squeezing it and pushing it down into Bobby's breast. At the same time Bobby slowly and gently caressed the smooth, soft backsides of the two boys. All three began to breathe a bit deeper with arousal, and all three felt ripples of pleasure originating deep in their loins pulsate through their groins. Slipping down a little further, the two boys each bent over and took a nipple in his mouth. As they sucked on the rapidly swelling teats, Bobby caressed their smooth backs, and ran his fingers through the thick curls at the back of their heads.

While he sucked Bobby's teat and struck at it with the tip of his tongue, Billy reached down and slipped his fingers about the man's growing cock. The ten-year-old loved to hold his lover's cock as it grew, feeling it swelling and hardening with sexual lust until it was firm and hard. Billy Bob followed his younger father's lead and wrapped his tiny little fingers about his older dad's growing flesh also, his grasp being too small to allow the fingers and thumb to meet. Feeling the hot, little hands of the two boys about his cock caused Bobby to swell even faster. As the boys squeezed his swelling member, Bobby reached down with both hands, running his fingers along the boys' smooth, soft skin, over their smooth rounded stomachs, Billy's rounded with his prepubescent pad of flesh, and Billy Bob's with his baby fat. Finding their tiny pricklets, he held the little tubes of flesh by their bases with the thumb and forefinger of each hand, his thumb being thicker than either little cock at the moment.

He tugged on the soft little hoses gently and slowly and rolled the sensitive skin-covered knobs between his thumb and finger. As he felt the two begin to swell and harden beneath his fingertips, he grew firmer and harder himself. Ever so slowly, he drew the skin back, revealing their tiny, red knobs. The two boys kissed his hairy chest, and he slowly drew their skins back up over their knobs. It did not take all three long to become fully erect.

Making a pile of pillows in the middle of the bed, Bobby had Billy lay down on his back with his rump on the pillows and then after retrieving the tube of KY from the inside pocket of his sports coat, he knelt down between the ten-year-old's legs. Squeezing out a large dab of KY on the tips of his fore and middle fingers, Bobby greased up his thick, throbbing cock, and then slowly inserted the tip of his forefinger in the boy's anus. As the hefty trucker slowly twisted his finger to remove the KY, Billy squirmed with pleasure. Bobby then proceeded to insert the tip of his middle finger and similarly grease the boy's opening. Bobby repeated the process several times until he was satisfied he had lubricated Billy's anus well.

Satisfied, he knelt behind the boy and placed the tip of his greased cock against his well-lubricated anus. Ever so slowly, he pressed forward. Little by little he felt his cock enter the hot, moist chamber as his knob forced the boy's sphincter open wider and wider until the rim of his cockhead slipped past the boy's sphincter. He paused, his knob now totally surrounded by the boy's hot, moist, pulsating flesh, and allowed the unique pleasure of their union to sink in. Inhaling deeply, he proceeded to sink his thick, rigid cock up the boy's asshole, penetrating him little by little, gradually sinking his eight-inch [20 cm] prick up the boy's hot, pulsating rectum.

Billy closed his eyes and concentrated on the pleasure of having his tight hole stuffed with the fat, solid prick of his lover. By then he'd been fucked so often he'd lost count long ago, but each time he felt his lover sink his cock into his body, it was like he was experiencing it for the first time. The physical pleasure of having his anus stretched open, and the physical pleasure of having the thick eight inches [20 cm] of bone stuffed up his hole was undescribable. Even greater though, was the pleasure that he knew he was giving Bobby. That was what made it all so great, what made it all so special. He knew that he was giving the burly trucker the greatest pleasure that one male can give another, a pleasure that even Bobby's wife was unable to give him. That was what love was all about, and this was all about love.

Billy Bob had been sitting on the bed watching his two fathers unite patiently and quietly with an understanding and appreciation that could be clearly read in his face, and that was beyond the capability of any typical three-year-old. Of course Billy Bob was not a typical three-year-old by any definition. Billy and Bobby had called him their miracle baby, and he was exactly that, a baby born from the flesh of a boy and the seed of a man, a baby that exuded a sexuality all of his own.

Now with his deep blue eyes smoldering with lust, the toddler straddled his younger father in the reverse direction, his fat little legs spread wide and his feet on either side of Billy's chest, his little pink butt in Billy's face as he leaned forward and began to fiddle with Billy's stiff cock. His hot, chubby little hand wrapped about the ten-year-old's stiff penis, now three inches [7½ cm] long and two fingers thick. His fist began to slowly move up and down as he tugged on the hot, throbbing prepubescent bone.

As Billy raised his head, Bobby bunched up his trousers and pushed them under the boy's head as a pillow. Sticking out his tongue, Billy ran it along Billy Bob's crack, starting at the base of his tiny, marble-sized balls and up along the cord and then the cleft between his baby cheeks, over his tiny pucker, and on to his tail bone. Bending his head once more, he slowly raised it as he licked his little son's butt crack a second time. Billy Bob tugged on his cocklet faster. Reaching up and spreading apart the little boy's cheeks, Billy placed his lips firmly over the tiny, pink pucker and darted his tongue against it, causing his little son to giggle and pump on his cock with even more zeal.

As he continued to rim the three-year-old, he felt the little boy's hot breath blow against his crotch, and then he felt his son's smooth, soft lips slip over his skin-encased knob. He felt the child working his mouth, filling it with spittle, and then he felt the pressure increase about his dickhead as the boy darted his tongue against his peehole. Billy pushed out with his stomach muscles, opening his anus and peehole, and as Bobby worked his massive, thick cock in and out of the boy's backside, Billy felt Billy Bob's spittle being blown up his peehole. He lay there on his back, his hips raised in the air and supported by the pillows and his head raised and supported by Bobby's trousers, and enjoyed the dual pleasure of having his tight asshole fucked by the husky, forty-three-year-old trucker, and having his little three-year-old son forcing his baby drool up his swollen cock.

Reaching up and grasping the three-year-old by the hips, Billy drew him back and at the same time raised the little boy's lower torso until the child was laying on his chest with his mouth still fastened to Billy's throbbing erection and his own stiff little baby cocklet directly above Billy's mouth. Billy opened his mouth as he slowly lowered the boy, easing him down and slipping his lips over the tiny pricklet of the boy. His little cocklet, an inch [2½ cm] long and as thin as Billy's pinky, was as hard as a pencil, and as Billy began to gently suck on it Billy Bob squirmed with pleasure.

The three of them lay in that position on the king-sized hotel bed for the longest time, the ten-year-old father and his three-year-old son sucking each other's cock, the two of them swallowing their cock-flavoured saliva as if it was honey water, and delighting in the pleasure of having their tingling, itching cocklets surrounded by a hot, moist mouth, while the child's ten-year-old father clenched and relaxed his anus in time to the thrusts and withdrawals of his hairy, six-foot-four [1.93 m] lover and the father of his child. Ever so slowly the three of them approached that peak of ultimate pleasure, a peak that the three of them had experienced together many times before.

Bobby worked his hips to and fro slowly and carefully, slowly because he wanted to enjoy the pleasure of having a hot, throbbing asshole eagerly clenching his pulsating cock for as long as possible, slowly because he wanted Billy to fully enjoy the pleasure of having a hot, thick cock fucking his ass, and carefully because the hairy truck driver did not want to do anything that might hurt the boy he loved. He marvelled at how long he was able to fuck without climaxing, far longer than he'd ever been able to last with his wife, and when at last he felt that dam burst deep in his groin, he sighed with the ultimate pleasure a man can know as his semen coursed up the core of his cock and spurted out of the opening. Unlike sex with his wife where the spurts came in a rapid volley and were over in seconds, with Billy they came in slow motion, like milk being squeezed out of the teat of a cow. With each downward thrust a squirt of cum shot out of his burning cock, not once, not thrice, but once with each thrust, again and again in ten second intervals, one, two, three minutes, eighteen squirts, each one with a burning delight, and the last as copious and with as much force as the first.

Billy wiggled as he felt the first of Bobby's hot squirts of cum shoot up his asshole. It was so awesome feeling his seed shooting into his body, and it was made even more wonderful by the fact that he and the husky truck driver had joined together to make it happen. Being too young to cum himself, he could only imagine the pleasure that Bobby was feeling, but knowing he was the source and cause of that pleasure made their act all the more intense for the ten-year-old boy. As his rectum filled with his lover's thick juice and as his lover's fat cock began to make shlucking noises as it worked in and out of his cum-filled asshole, Billy trembled and sighed with delight.

While Bobby was still shooting his stuff up his asshole, Billy began to convulse with his own orgasm. Powerful shocks jolted his groin, sending spasms of pleasure through his stiff little cocklet, which seemed so much longer and so much fatter when it was in Billy Bob's mouth. The shocks caused the ten-year-old to twist and buck uncontrollably. The pee hole of his swollen, numb cock constricted and dilated as he attempted to shoot, causing Billy Bob's spittle to come squirting back out of his cocklet in much the same way as Bobby was releasing his load. His balls, which were growing bigger with each passing month, drew up tight under his red-hot pecker as spasm after spasm caused him to twitch as if hit by an electric prod. His entire cock seemed to be pulsating like a fat, three-inch [7½ cm] long heart.

Billy Bob not only managed to keep his mouth firmly affixed to the bucking ten-year-old's cock, but he managed to keep up the suction besides. The spittle he'd blown up his father's peehole and into his ripe, maturing nuts was squirted back out in ten-second intervals in time with the three-year-old's sucking. The youngster swallowed the regurgitated baby drool now flavoured and heated by the core of his young father's cocklet. Like a babe sucking on his mother's teat, the child sucked on his little father's cock and savoured the thin dick-flavoured drool with as much relish.

As Billy sucked on his little son's cocklet in desperate lust, the swollen penis pulsed with the inhalation of each deep breath. The tiny pecker in his mouth seemed to grow fatter and longer until it seemed to have doubled in size, and then suddenly he felt it throb between his lips. At first he thought he'd been mistaken, but as he concentrated he felt his little son's stiff cock throb a second time, and then a third. His little son was cumming.

As Billy Bob felt his little wiener swell and extend and begin to pulse with pleasure, the three-year-old closed his eyes and concentrated on the throbbing delight between his legs, and his mind filled with the joy resulting from the physical stimulation of his tiny pricklet, and the delight resulting from the love he felt for his two fathers. At the same time Billy and Bobby felt their own minds being filled with the pure ecstasy that only a three-year-old child can feel.

With their minds and bodies numbed by their combined orgasms and the brief instant of telepathic joy, the three collapsed on the bed, gasping and sighing with the unique delight they had just experienced. Bobby's broad, hairy chest rose and fell like bellows as he gasped in the cum-scented air, and the warm flush that follows ejaculation flowed over his perspiring body. Billy lay beside him, his eyes closed and his rosy lips parted as he inhaled and exhaled slowly and deeply and drifted in that post-climatic bliss that many his age were denied. Propping himself up on his left elbow, Billy Bob, his shoulder long, curly blond hair damp with perspiration and his cherubic face flushed with pleasure, studied his two fathers, his turquoise eyes intent and serious. A smile of contentment slowly curled the three-year-old's lips and he lay back and waited for his two fathers to recover so they could do it again.

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