SpunkJunkyPissHound

Trying to track down chapters 1 and 2 in the archives. As soon as I find them, they're yours, you twisted fucker.

Many Thanks

You can check out parts 2 and 3 below- tnucman2, just as juicey!

Thanks Coach!

I'll find the other parts for you

There's more where that came from, gutter gut!

Maybe hosting a little Breeding party tonight for our little buddy cumdump here who's desperate to become a man. Drop me a private message if you want to plant your seed where it will do some good/evil.

Man oh man. I would have loved to get my mouth all over that bruised and beat up hole after you got done using him. I'd suck a couple of those fuckers out, eat one and roll the other spunk filled scumbag over my babymaker and pound it back into him again... blow my load, and apologize for lossing the bag inside. Love to watch him claw around in there and try to fish it out. Excellnt beat off read!

So how long you gonna make us wait for the Venom to Take? There's a lot of sick pervs around here in desperate need of the Good Doctor's Death Fuck!

My periods of sexual compulsion tend to be cyclical. In times of great stress and anxiety, I lose my sex drive, and those times when I am at my most productive, both personally and professionally, I need extreme amounts of reproductive juices coursing through my veins. In the 10 year I worked in Amsterdam, I got laid a total of 6 mediocre times. Now that I am coming up on 700 day in LA, I have easily consumed that many load of male DNA. Certainly, not one load a day, although there is my post workout protein shake I get in the sauna of the straight gym I go to ( married men and college boys seem fascinated by my cock sucker tattoos). When I get a weekend a way and take a break from the three jobs needed to survive in this post-Bush economy, I enjoy a good, old fashioned Boner Binge in Palm Springs, San Francisco or Las Vegas. If I don't get three loads to every one I give, then I'm just not paying close enough attention. I know it is completely the opposite for some people. Sex is all they have, or Sex is a pain killer for a half lived life. But please, do not assume that just because I am a balls to the wall cum-junkie, that my life is wasted. Time is short, precious and meaningful, and I am going to milk every minute I can get of it, with every orifice and gland that I've got!

Looking forward to tongue fucking each and every one of you twisted cum-filled sperm banks. I may need to be TOM's man by the light of day, BUTT CUM sunset, I am 100% REX. Give me Piggy and Pervy over Pretty any night of the week! And don't forget to recycle.

Be very careful about believing in that "undetectable" viral load, bearbandit. There is a very good chance that your antviral drugs are just fucking with the VL test, and NOT the viral load itself. One of the quickest changes that results from a drug holiday is the suspiciously fast viral load rebound. I don't know how long you've been with bug, but its important to remember that doctors are not scientists, and immunologists are far lest certain about viruses that pharmacudical manuafactures. 27+ years living with the bug, watchuing my friends die while their doctors live ( see: AZT and that EVIL initial interferon treatment for hep C) has taught me to be very suspecious of the" tests" and the good intentions of those who need to remain emotionally detatched.

Who wants to meet me in Chicago so we can see how much piss we can pump into barepig@ymail.com guts before he explode? I'm shooting to tap that ass in April, and I'd gladly offer up my asshole to FlechingPisser on the same twisted trip, if he's up for getting down.....

I love fisting a man with a full bladder. Nothing beats pounding the piss out of a guy... literally.

This one for you Btm! boy. Good Luck with your New Year's Resloution. If you find your way to Palm Springs me and my buddies will fill you with so much Chem piss, it'll be leaking out your noes!

The story was concieved in 5 parts. When I went to post Part 3, I discovered that parts 1 & 2 had been combined into one part in Bug Chasing, Gift Giving. So I renumbered, part 3. Being able to edit the title in Chem Fiction would allow me to clear up the confusion.

Two parts of a story I posted have been combined into one file. How do I change the title of that file so readers will know the conclusion is contained there in?

On his back with his goopy glossy pucker pointed to Heaven, my birthday boy’s pulverized pink porthole pulsed in anticipation of the bowel brushing he was about to receive. Despite the almost constant pounding he sweet virgin kunt had taken over the last 6 hours, Junior’s pouting pussy-lips rebounded nicely, still capable of creating a seal to retain the dozen and a half tainted loads of biohazardous baby-batter marinating his prostate and basting his battered rectal walls. He claimed to have just turned 18, and we took him on his word. He wanted me to make him a man, and having just seen the rage filled fuck he just thrown into Psycho-Mike, he was well on his way. Watching his jizz smeared teeny-twat twitch made my balls ache and my mouth water, as I fought the urge to wrap my lips around his shit-chute and suck out that fetid fuck-slime, like so much rattlesnake venom. Instead, I hit the button on the GumGripper2000 and felt the bristles of the electric toothbrush begin scraping and scrubbing my own slime saturated manhole. Not too hard, not too soft, I clicked it off before removing the juicy pink head of the once white brush from my buffed up butt-tunnel, and smiled. It passed the test. “It’s up to you now, Son,” I said handing him the silenced rectal rasper, “if you want to join our club, all you gotta do is slip this nasty brush up your butt and press this blood stained button. Be careful though,” I said holding the poppers bottle to his lips, as he sucked in nice and deep, “it just might kill you”. ****** After our adventures in the park, we’d taken an hour to cool down a bit at my place before his pozzing party really got started. He cleaned my armpits, my ass hole and my feet, pawing at my pecker, begging for another load. I gave him his own pay-as-you-go cel-phone just for hook ups, and to call me to bail him out of jail if the cops ever caught him lurking in the bushes or toilets. To offset the speed rushing through his blood stream, I began feeding him beers- legal at 18 in this State. We cuddled on the couch, as he nursed on my swollen nipples, doing his damndest to try and suck spunk out through my man-tits, and from the way his hungry mouth boned me up, he was getting pretty close to succeeding, when the doorbell rang. Eddie and Jack were the first to arrive, I was glad to have the back up, so I could focus on fucking up my son without having to worry about strangers fucking up my apartment. The kid’s instinct was to dive for their dicks, and I found myself threatening to hand cuff him, if he couldn’t restrain himself. I explained that they would be helping me with some of his future lessons. Jack and Eddie would be back the next night for his next course on Watersports, and they would also be in charge of his K9 training when he was ready for it, and after I said that my older cousin suddenly remembered he had some frozen treats for later in his back pack, and he got up to put them in the freezer. Instinctively, my son dropped down between Ed’s thick thighs as he reclined in the leather lazy-boy, while Jack and I went to the kitchen. While my cousin laid-out a few thick white lines for us to enjoy before the show, he deposited five frozen cubes in my freezer, “Puppy Treats” he liked to call them, and then pulled out a couple small wax cups containing bright yellow Jello-shots, made from a mix of his own rank chem-piss combined with a copious helping of canine ejaculate. “I want you to call me ‘Grandpa’ from now on,” Eddie said stroking the kid’s soft hair, as the sweet cheeked teen bathed in the comforting affection of the depraved pervert. After his release from the state pen, the Judge ordered that he be chemically castrated, but fortunately, his court appointed doctor shared Eddie’s sick interests, and provided him monthly testosterone injections instead, in exchange for specialty porn, an occasional ass-full of the old guy’s nut-sauce, and the promise that the filthy old freak would find “socially acceptable” sources for his tightly twisted desires. If the kid associated the kindly grandfather figure with monster meat that tore up his kunt through the glory hole, I don’t know, but he appeared to have bonded seamlessly with the friendly stranger. “Swallow this,” I instructed the kid, handing him the Dixie cup. The next one we’d make him chew, but for now, the lemon flavored speed-treat slipped into his beer filled belly without the slightest hint of revulsion. When the doorbell rang, we had Junior climb up on the coffee table on his hands and knees. He still wore his not so white jockey shorts, but now the entire backend was shredded like poor man’s jock strap. Jack secured a paper cone birthday hat to his head with the thin elastic band slipping under our sweet sacrifice’s smooth chin. If you saw Lenny and Karl on the street, you probably wouldn’t give them a second look, but at the baths, they never bothered with towels, because their long floppy death-sticks did all the talking for them. They were sort of local celebrities featured in the spunk soaked bareback films from the San Francisco company, and frequently starred in the Piss/Fist epics from those brilliant bastards out of San Diego/ Palm Springs. Both men took their time appraising the kid’s unmarred alabaster skin, circling him and caressing his hyper-sensitized flesh with their black and white hands respectively. Where Lenny dropped to his knees and began supping softly on the boy’s pink pucker, Karl presented the boy with the fresh biohazard tattoo still oozing blood and ink at the base of his spine. Although wound licking is pretty much at the top of every “Do Not List” for new tats, the brown skinned stud took a moment to enjoy soothing sensation of the little horndog’s innocent tongue on his tenderized epidermis. Bending over further, Karl offered up his thick black asshole to the boy’s lips, along with the toxic load from the tattoo artist that bubbled just inside his door. As the slick salty sperm swam out of the man’s ass into the kid’s mouth, his skinny buddy stood up and dropped his pants. A sigh escaped from all three of us sitting on the couch, as we watched Lenny cradle his 10 inch gut lance in the palm of his hand. The next sudden intake of air came from the kid, as the porn star pushed his poisonous plunger deep in the blond boy’s sticky hole. Karl turned and offered my Son’s gaping mouth 9 and a half inches pure Blatino beefsteak, and used it to wax the kid’s jizz smeared tongue. Who knows how many holes he had fucked with that big thing? Junior certainly didn’t care as he attempted to deep throat as much of it as he could before it grew to hard to bend. As exhibitionists extraordinaire, the two studs took their time putting on a show for their more than appreciative audience. As the meth penetrated our sinuses and blood streams, Jack and I couldn’t help but beat our meat as we watched Junior get plugged at both ends My little tweeker’s tight cum canyon started working it’s magic on Lenny, and he needed to stop and switch places with his black bud, now rock hard and ready to ram. Junior went to town on the slime coated schlong dripping in front of him, swallowing all the ass-juice and spent seed he could manage, as Karl took a stab at his ass. When they switched places again, I couldn’t help but engage in a little audience participation. On my back, I slipped under my Son to get a view of their prostate pillaging up-close. The front of the kid’s jockeys were already wet from his precum as they pounded the piss out of him, and I reached my tongue up into the gap between Lenny’s veiny shaft and Junior’s jelly ring. Worshiping the master swordsmen’s rod and balls, came with its own reward, as he began alternating between fucking the kid’s goo coated kunt and my constantly cum hungry throat. From my son’s ass to his dad’s mouth, as nature intended. He and Karl switched again, giving me the opportunity to service the deadly black shaft as well. I know that if I didn’t quit soon, I would not be able to stop myself from devouring the kid’s cummy-kunt lips as well, so I wiggled out as soon as I heard the sound of the doorbell. Eddie answered for me, as the two performers repositioned our little fuck puppet for their grand finale. The flexible little fucker flipped on his back, supporting his weight on his neck and shoulders, with his hungry hole positioned between them and his own slime soaked pouch immediately above his spit and splooge coated face. As a new anonymous donor made his way into the living room, Lenny and Karl straddled the kid and the table, taking turns torturing the teen’s sperm vault with their dueling dickheads. One would go in, just as the other popped out, back and forth, each getting harder and closer as they watched their buddy try to break open the boy. When their sweat finally began forming puddles on the coffee table, running down the kid’s pinned thighs, they crossed a line I didn’t expect my Son to reach for another month. Both dudes, rammed their bloated red and purple heads in to the cumdump’s suddenly gapping hole, and fired their infections loads simultaneously through the maxed out sphincter as all three screamed out in pleasure and pain. Junior struggled to free himself just as his masters tried to force another inch of their spasming wad riffles into his thrashing body. Jack quickly dropped his jeans and set his asshole on the kid’s mouth to muffle his cries and offer some distraction as the studs continued to drain their nuts, before slowly reentering the atmosphere. Karl pulled his purple knob out first, bending over to kiss his buddy’s shaft where it remained lodged. Feeling the tight sex object beneath him suddenly relax, Jack stood up and stepped away from his seat, just as Lenny suddenly plunged the full length of his ramrod back in balls deep, slamming their combined slime as far down into the kid’s intestinal track as his 10 inch baby-maker could reach. Junior’s sudden sigh was met by Karl’s snot covered corona as it spread their blended filth all over the inside of my Son’s gaping mouth. Lenny pulled out and came around to push his dick in beside his co-conspirators, so the birthday boy could hold them both in his mouth. Watching the drug crazed teen franticly try to scour both penises for all the leftovers he could, suggested that he bore them no ill will for his first DP, no matter how much pain he might have been in just moments before. Using my two index fingers, I examined Junior’s rump-ring for any serious rips or tears, surprised once again that his ass lips remained, for the most part, intact. Lenny and Karl’s mouths were filled with each other’s tongues, just as the kid’s gob was stretched to capacity by their deflating dicks. Knowing what they wanted to do next, I had to stop them before the tried downing the poor boy with their urine. “The night’s too young for him to start puking… just yet,” I hated to disappoint my guests, but to my pleasure and surprise they lead the newest party guest to the bathroom to relieve their bladders, giving the kid a chance to recover his breath. His grandpa stroked his hair and kissed his slime covered cheeks, whispering about what a good little trooper we was. Over the course of the next three hours, another 5 guys would show up to pay their respects, and though a few weren’t interested in giving their names, only one left without signing his name in the honey soaked guestbook the kid had kept hidden secretly between his butt cheeks for the last 18 years. Our buddy Doug showed up with a very special treat, his new fuck zombie, filthyrigshit (yes, the name has been changed to protect the deviant). A year and a half ago, the collage football star was 6 units away from graduating, when he blew out his knee and was told he’d never play ball again. His first slam lead to a pozzing party not unlike the one we were hosting for junior, but what a difference 18 months could make. filthyrigshit had never so much as smoked a joint or jerked off with a buddy before he met Psycho Mike, but all of that changed once the weak willed college athlete found himself on point. Not many of us in these parts, other than Lenny and Karl, get a chance to fuck a guy who looks like an old fashioned Colt model, and at the time, we thought he was like my son- a boy who wanted to be accepted in the company of men. When Psycho Mike invited us to his breeding bash, we had no idea when were participating in the ex-jock’s slow suicide. Hell, from the way the jock begged to be “raped” and “infected”, we assumed he was just one of the gang, not some strung out straight junkie willing to say anything he was told to get a fix. Mike even told him that we had all hidden crystal up our asses, and that he’d need to eat our shit to get to it, which the damaged heterosexual eagerly did with both hands by the end of the night. Talk about a walking “cautionary tale.” He quit college and lost 120 lbs, moving from basement to basement and master to master. His once flawless skin was now covered in the worst tattoos you have ever seen, including his neck, lip and forehead. One nipple and his cock head had been split, yet he still managed to pierce ever other dangling part of himself that his latest owner wanted ram a piece of steel through. His hollow eyes and gaunt cheekbones spoke of a creature not long for this world. Psycho Mike didn’t even recognize his own creation when he showed up just before 10:00. Still my invite did say, “all loads welcome” though I doubted fithyrigshit could get it up long enough to make a donation. One curious stranger, who arrived at the door with his dick out, kept watching my son’s cluster fuck with the same intensity that he kept checking his watch. From his wedding ring and his shyness about joining in the gangbang, I suspected that he wasn’t even positive. But he didn’t have a rubber, so I did my best to be open-minded. When I tried chatting up the Tourist with No Name, he asked if he could do the kid alone. I explained that it was a party, but offered him my own ass in the bedroom, if he was in a hurry. Five minutes later, his pants zipped up, and out the door he went, while his sperm of indeterminate status remained behind, mingling together with the other three loads and the pulverized condom swimming around inside my fetid colon. After accepting another 3 deposits in his spermbank, and 3 more down his throat, Junior stopped for a little breather, entertaining Jack, Eddie and the rest of the gang, by chewing his next bright yellow Jello shot and squishing the sick confection through his teeth. I also gave the kid some more meth in a gelatin capsule as a bit of a speed bump to get him through what was about to follow. Between his own legs, fithyrigshit supped on the kid’s soggy under-shorts and suckled my boy’s shriveled little disco dick. My tweeked out son hardly seemed to notice the former Heisman Trophy Candidate. When Grandpa Eddie asked Uncle Jack for his bag, I knew what was coming next, so I whispered my plan into Doug’s ear, and we quickly stepped into my bedroom to ad another little surprise treat for my freshly deflowered son. When I returned, I was pleased to see Professor Poison Prick from the park had cum to donate another toxic load to the cause, only now, we didn’t wear his glasses, and he looked too fucking hot in his black leather chaps and MINESHAFT t-shirt. Across the room, Grandpa Eddie sat in the recliner once again, with my son waiting patiently between his legs, holding the old perv’s goodie bag. Seeing the monster dong Eddie pulled from his pants seemed to ignite the kid’s short-term memory. His hands trembled as My Favorite *edo tied off his bloated cock and balls. No one in the room could hear what he was whispering to his little helper, but the boy retrieved the party hat from where it had been knocked to the floor, and immediately accepted the little blue pacifier the sick old freak told him to suck. Next to a blood slam, there’s nothing quite as dangerous as a dick slam. One wrong move and Eddie would succeed in doing what the court had mandated 15 years ago. But shooting speed in his dick did the same thing to my uncle’s molester that ramming Trimix or Javarject did for movie stars. Junior’s eyes grew as big as black flying saucers as he watched the old man pierce the vein and inject methamphetamine into his dormant dong. “Untie Grandpa,” he demanded, “Undo it now,” and my boy quickly fumbled to undo the impromptu truncate that had first looked like a cave man’s cock ring. A small spot of virus ridden blood and meth leaked from his puncture, and as he sank back into his chair, he mumbled, “Lick that up…” My son complied. After a few second’s where the old guy looked lost to the world, his massive paws suddenly found the awe struck kid in front of him and began rubbing the boy’s unmarred arms, smooth chest and soft face like our fuck-utility was made of gold. Overwhelmed by his new grandfather’s overpowering attention, my boy rolled onto his back just as Grandpa rolled effortlessly on top of him. “Ya ready son?” he asked with out looking at me, and I stepped into place, and squatted over the innocent face as my mentor gentle removed the pacifier for the birthday boy’s mouth. “Ya ready for a very special present from your daddy, baby?” Grandpa mumbled, and my boy nodded. “Then ask him. Ask him for your special birthday treat….” “Please Dad. Please Papa, give me my birthday treat…’ “Special birthday treat,” he coached. “Special birthday treat,” my drugged up little spermbank repeated. “Kiss your Papa’s shit-chute, Son. Get your tongue up inside your Daddy’s ass….” Junior’s sweet lips felt warm and wet on my well used butt ring. “French kiss it, like he’s your prom date,” the old freak urged him. My new Son’s mouth was too hot to believe, and I needed to clamp down the best I could, trying to restrain myself before giving away the whole Money Shot. “Open your mouth, Grandbaby, but don’t swallow. We’re all gonna be real mad at you if you swallow before I say so,” and once again, the kid opened up his mouth like a hungry little bird. I couldn’t hold back. All the swimming, swirling jizz in my guts forced its way out, first in globby drops, but then suddenly in big ugly squirts of chunky super-charged spunk. The five nut loads I collected that day, including the kid’s, now washed out of my rectum and into his welcoming maw. I swear it was the drugs that were making me bare down and release the sloppy sperm farts into his teenage face. But try as I might, the renegade scumbag I’d picked out of the park toilet remained lodged in my dilated turd canal. “Get your tongue up in there,” Eddie instructed, “Dig around in your father’s asshole and get that spunk-sack out of there for him.” The eager little humming birds ravenous lips and prehensile twat-taster sucked and fucked my gaping ass, as I grunted down as hard as I could, offering up Daddy’s sperm saturated prolapse, like so much blood red birthday cake for the starving lad to feast on. Word’s can’t describe the sheer ecstasy of the kid’s ravenous mouth on my distended bowel. “Don’t swallow, just dig in” his flying grandpa sighed as his fingers began fiddling with the kid’s recently discovered hole, that waited vacant between the filthy old freak’s thighs. The sensation of my son pulling the second hand rubber out of my intestinal track was almost too much for me to take, and with it came a second explosive splash of warm nut snot and ass juice. I had to stand up just to see the beautiful mess I’d made of my little cum-junkies face. What a show off he was, and the crowd applauded at the sight of his gaping mouth full to the lips with 5 loads of spermatozoa and copious amounts of anal mucus. Half the deflated condom spilled out of his mouth and over the side of his lips, like the chewed up scumbag was trying desperately to escape so it could impregnate his ear. The tripping boy lay frozen in the tripping man’s stare. Psychically they were saying disgusting and deranged things to each other silently, that none of the rest of us could hear. Then the old man began dipping the nipple of the pacifier in the whitish brownish gene pool, and began drawing on the kid’s face with warm globs of cock sauce. And though three of the loads may have gone in negative, they had mingled and baked in my HIV rich oven, leaking out as positive has Freddy Mercury. Grandpa began to use the little cock shaped suck toy to fuck the helpless kid’s nostrils, pulling thick strands of the noxious ball sap over his lip and into his nose. Junior held still, paralyzed in the sick bastard’s hypnotic gaze, his birthday hat looking both out of place and sickeningly perfect at the same time. Professor Poison Prick said he’d come to the party to shoot his spunk into the kid’s open eyes, but I asked him to hold back. I had a different plan. My son had been so mesmerized my his grandpa’s little game, he hardly noticed the old man’s monstrous blunt cock head knocking at his back door, until there was a grunt and a muffled shriek as the criminal sexual sociopath slammed his fat corona into the boy’s unsuspecting sphincter. Dropping to his knees, beating off as hard and fast ask he could, the man in black chaps suddenly pushed his spurting corona up to the tender young-thing’s right nostril and begun firing load after load of infectious positive pecker puke into the surprised boy’s booger chute, filling his sinus cavities and then the back of Junior’s throat with more deranged demon seed then any of us could possibly imagine, as his smiling Grandfather held is head in place. Unable to turn or escape, the shocked youth panicked and swallowed everything, all five loads, plus the used scumbag as the crowd cheered, and his high flying Opa slammed another four fat angry inches of his bleeding bloated death stick up the vulnerable teen’s tight twat. Junior struggled but at the same time didn’t seem too interested in getting away. The meat skewer held him in place like a cum saturated little dick-kabob. As he coughed and choked, beautiful pearly white globs of dick juice slithered out of both the teenager’s nose holes. Reinserting the pacifier in the kid’s mouth, the boy’s adopted elder began fucking him mercilessly, pounding as hard and deep as his sick dick could reach. What a sight to behold as the kid rolled with it, accepting the bowel bludgeoning with a depraved lust filled hunger that matched his mentor’s. And just when I thought the night couldn’t get any sicker, the sound of a hard jaw snapping slap caught everyone it the room totally by surprise. “Get you fucking hands off me you worthless piece of SHIT,” Psycho Mike shouted as fithyrigshit hit the floor. Junior still had four loads to go, but it looked like the psychotic sadist was trying to end the party early by starting a fight. As luck would have it, the sharp noise startled my son so much that his butt hole clamped tight, bighting into the Gramps’ baby breaker, causing him to roar in pain and pleasure with his sudden ball busting release. Psycho Mike, the drama queen, was demanding that Doug get his shit-whore away from him, but the boy and his grandpa were once again above it all, for a few last moments bound in the indescribable bliss of intergenerational insemination. Rediscovering his hand and arms, the boy reach out and held his new granddad tightly, and his embrace was returned to him in the form of a massive bear hug, all the while, the thick bloody dick spewed more and more dank nut-crude into the fuckling’s ever expanding insides. The diseased old criminal and the beautiful blond fuck-toy, rocked back and forth as if they’d never heard a thing, while I dealt with the dogfight that threatened to derail my boy’s big night. The whole concept of life as a disposable sex object wasn’t really an organic element of filthyrigshit’s psyche. He wanted drugs. He was there to score enough chemicals so that his feet would never need to touch the ground again. He assumed that because Psycho Mike had been the first one to turn him on, that the guy would share some sort of fondness for his former plaything, which was not how the shallow old queen was wired. The serial pozzer’s greatest wish was to see the things he fucked die, and it pissed him off when they kept coming back expecting something more. I asked Jack to take the ex-college athlete back into the nursery, tie him up and giving him a nice big slam before shoving a massive dildo, or two into his damaged guts, and I told Psycho Mike that if he didn’t cool his jets right now, he could just walk out the door without his slice of cherry pie. Even though Doug had just donated a load to my gut-soup birthday treat 20 minutes earlier, he returned from watching the bondage scene in the playroom rock hard and ready for his turn at Junior’s twat. Doug wasn’t a big man, maybe 6 inches at most, but his balls refilled at an amazing rate. I’d seen him shoot 5 loads in two hours one time, so what he lacked in beef, he sure made up for with gravy. I whispered to Grandpa Ed that it was time to give someone else a turn, and now that his balls had been drained, he was willing to pull out, so the kid’s kunt-holes could realign. In an attempt to make peace with Mike, I offered him a couple lines in the toilet, which he eagerly accepted, explaining that he was just a little tense, because he’d been tamping back a $200 turd for four days, that a couple in the next town over planned on devouring together the next night. Out of courtesy, I asked if he might let me look at the turtle’s head, which he promptly did, giving me a sick little idea. Normally, my Raunch Studies students begin slowly, learning to enjoy the sick sport by eating candy bars and tootsie rolls out of my digestive tract, but this kid already proved he was an overachiever. Cramming two rocks into the tip of the shit log, I asked Mike to pull it back in, so the sharp edges of the uncrushed crystal could dig into the inside of his ass-lips and rectal wall for a few minutes. While Doug pounded the kid’s ass, I asked my son to bend over and get his mouth on Psycho Mikes butthole and give it a nice French kiss. Even though this had not been a lesson I’d planned on introducing the kid to for another couple months, I didn’t want to miss the opportunity. Luckily, the kid’s nose and sinuses were so full of toxic cum, he couldn’t smell what his tongue kept stroking and poking, as bits of shit and meth mixed together in the sweet teen’s drug deadened taste buds. The pressure to keep the log inside was becoming overwhelming, so after a minute or two of the munch massage, Mike had to stand up and step away. I sent Lenny to go to the playroom to release and retrieve filthyrigshit, so he could pay me back for the slam. Even as Doug kept dogging the kid, I asked my son if he’d ever heard the football player’s name, and as Junior nodded, I revealed filthyrigshit’s former identity, and the youngster’s dilated eyes grew wide with surprise. Waddling back into the room, the blissed-out straight junkie looked much more at ease as he floated towards us and took his place facing my son as instructed. “Kiss him,” I ordered, and their lips locked. Though Junior might not have known what kind of filth coated his tongue, the ex college star went nuts as he wildly attempted to devour my fucked up kid’s shit slicked lips. And once again, Junior soared high in pig heaven. The hetero-horndog slurped and sucked on the boy’s nose without the slightest clue that the tripping teen hadn’t snorted any thing (other than the cock snot that now washing down the back of the straight junkies throat). Next, I told the dumb-jock to drop to his knees and reinflate his number one fan’s shriveled little disco dick. Doug’s cock tended to jut up to a pretty sharp angle, and so when the kid stood erect, his prostate received a good pummeling for my buddy’s rock hard rod. When it looked like my son was back in full form, I told his football idol to turn around and touch his toes. It took a little work on my part to get both my son’s cock and balls in the ex-jock fist-friendly fuck canal, but once he was in, I told the point-whore to grip down and not let go until we were done. Junior moaned and Doug went nuts, thrashing the Birthday-boy’s cum button for all it was worth, and within three minutes, lethal jizz flew out of Doug’s nuts into my son’s buttered bowels, and then, more healthy teen-cream shot from my son into his idol’s damaged and diseased interior. When Doug pulled out, the kid remained lodged deep inside the tight-end, turned wide receiver, and once again, my one and only living offspring made his Papa proud. With one had on the small of the ex-athletes back, Junior let out a massive sighs of pure and utter relief. Without any instruction or provocation on my part, my son began to piss all over his own balls even as they remained crammed up inside the football player’s overstuffed colon. How many beers we’d poured into the kid, I don’t remember, but more than a six-pack’s worth of urine rushed from his bladder directly into HIS new fuck toy’s belly. Though the junkie hadn’t found any meth hidden in the kid’s nose, his intestines were suddenly flushed with more chem-piss than most guys could handle. And once again, filthyrigshit groaned in ecstasy and coughed, slowly swept away on a wave of overpowering GutRush. Eventualy I asked if the kid wanted to pull out, but the little fucker just grinned and shook his head “no,’ wallowing in the wonderful sensation of his cock and balls bathing in the warm waters of his own waste and his idol’s tight grip. Junior didn’t see Bodybuilder Bob (load #16) come limping into the room, but those who didn’t know the 80’s porn sensation personally, stepped back in horror. The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come brought most of the side action to a close, as the other guests who had blown their wads yet remained for the show, quickly zipped up and fled, from the bone chilling sight of the Walking Dead. Finely commanding my little fuck hound to dislodge so that he could to greet his last guest, I watched Lenny and Karl drag filthyrigshit off to my walk-in shower so they could fuck the piss out of him, and Dough followed so he could watch. That left the boy and me alone with Jack, Eddie, Psycho Mike and the corpse who came for dinner. I won’t waste any time retelling what was recorded at the beginning of Part 2 other than to say, the first thing my boy did was to kiss Bob on the lips, and wrap his strong young arms around the worn and withered wraith. This kid continued amazed me, doing everything he could to prove to his old man that he was without a doubt FEARLESS. Psycho Mike was the only one at the party who had not cum by the time Bodybuilder Bob finished passing the plague into my young and unstoppable little viral vacuum, but the sight of the corpse fucking and infecting the healthy teenager combined with those fine white lines, had sick sadist hungry for blood. Just between you and me, I never really liked Psycho Mike very much. In my opinion he was one of those sorry little faggots who confused being rude with being manly. But we lived in a small town with a very shallow gene pool. He always invited me to his parties, and I was raised to believe that it is always polite to share. When Junior dropped to his knees and retrieved the filthy cheese clotted skin-slab from Mike’s leather pants, he actually seemed pleased to sniff and suckle on the rank smegma coated dong. I guess growing up with a foreskin that couldn’t retract, the kid had sampled more than his share of home made cottage cheese, and even though he gagged a little here and there (filthrigshit had thoroughly sucked his cum clogged sinuses clean after all), my sweet little freak supped on the feta stuffed schmuck like he was sucking an oyster from a shell. He enjoyed himself so much, Mike actually looked a little pissed off, like he’d failed at his attempt to play ‘gag the fag’. And when the kid turned and offered up his kunt without reservation or hesitation, the bitter old fairy gave his sweet little butt cheek an unnecessarily sharp and brutal slap. “Count it off BITCH,” he demanded, causing my startled son to throw me a sideways glance. “One….” I offered, and then the boy nodded, acknowledging that he understood. “One.” Junior repeated. SLAP! “Two.” The kid grunted. “Do you want my shit?” Mike demanded. “Yes,” The Kid answered, followed by another equally hard SLAP. “YES What?” Slap “Yes sir, Four Sir!” Slap “That was only the three,” mean freak began his favorite argument, “That other slap what for not saying my name.” SLAP. “FIVE SIR.” The kid spit out through clinched teeth. SLAP “That was only THREE” SLAP. Before I could intervene, my boy stood up and turned and stared the mean old faggot straight in the eye and said bubbling with rage “That was SIX, SIR!” “DID I SAY YOU COULD MOVE?” The Mr. Leatherqueen 1952 raised his hand to slap the kid’s face, but instead found it caught in a grip harder than he could have possibly imagined. “Not the Face.” MY boy growled, and with no attempt to conceal his contempt, he added “SIR,” before turning around and offering up his ass once again. Needless to say, I was conflicted. I wasn’t going to let the sorry old queer injure my kid, but at the same time, I was damn curious to see what would happen if the stupid old fart tried pushing the boy any further, and then to top it off, the kid suddenly said very clearly “I want your shit, SIR, Come on and give me that shit!” SLAP “NINE, Thank you SIR” Oh poor, poor tired Master Mike. The boy was off the script and the unimaginative old faggot wasn’t sure how to recover. “Gimme me that SHIT Sir, Give it to me Hard” the bent over boy demanded. Mike stopped spanking and started fucking while he tried to regroup. By starting out slapping the kid as hard as he could, he had no way to build, plus his limp sissy wrist now ached from over exertion. Worse still was the hypnotic effect the kid’s hungry hole had on his mean-spirited meat. The 18 year-old’s tight semen soaked insides felt good, really good. Normally Mike was so obsessed with trying to torture the victim on the end of his dick, he never noticed the beautiful way that a very young punk’s guts could suck and squeeze the man-milk from his shock-prod. The sound of the little fucker getting his birthday spankings pulled the piss soaked pigs from the toilet where they’d been wallowing. When Psycho Mike inadvertently rested his hand on the kid’s shining red butt-cheek, Junior startled him by suddenly shouting, “TEN!” Which was followed by a real slap that received an “Eleven” from the kid, and a quickly stifled giggle from those of us the audience. This pushed “Master” Mike over the edge. SLAP! “Twelve, Thank You Sir, Gimme Me Your Shit! SLAP! “Thirteen, Thank You Sir, Gimme Me Your Shit! SLAP “FourTeen, Thank You Sir, Gimme Me Your Shit! SLAP “FIFTEEN, Thank You Sir, Gimme Me Your Shit NOW!” The kid suddenly demanded. SLAP “SIXTEEN, Thank You Sir, Gimme Me…. “You worthless little turd, you fucked up piece of garbage, You’ll be dead in two weeks” SLAP “SEVENTEEN. THANK YOU MA’AM, May I have Another?” “You really think you’ll live as long as that nigger that just fucked you, turd breath? Fuck you! You’ll be dead before that fucking junky retard in the toilet back there” Mike shouted, grabbing a handful of the boy’s blond hair with one hand while bringing down his other brittle withered writs on my impervious little cumbdump’s round rosy rump. “EIGHTEEN,” My Son shouted before biting down as hard as he could on the prick in his unstoppable poison trap, and that was it. He’d fucked the fucker back, forcing the old queer’s little prick to start spewing his poison uncontrollably in the power bottom’s magic twat. But before the last shot could leave his gun, Daddy’s Little Man stood up, catching Mike off guard and pushing the tired old top backward, sending plummeting to the floor with a painful thump and grunt. Earlier, I had thought the kid’s tight body might have been from the swim team, but it turns out my Son was a wrestler. The out of shape faggot was no match for the tweeked-out, outraged teenager. Quickly flipping Psycho Mike onto his belly, the birthday boy grabbed the back of Spankee’s leather pants and gave them a hard and painful yank. No, this was more than just speed. Clearly, Junior had been mainlining testosterone all day long. Like a roid-ranger at a wrestling match, the kid’s face flushed with fury. Teenagers are by their very nature are already messed up on hormones 24/7, but obviously more than just virus rich jizz had passed into the kid’s bloodstream. Rather than killing his dick, the beating had filled the boy’s shaft with blood and his balls with rage. It was as if Bodybuilder Bob’s life had escaped from his dying body and taken up residence in my son’s unstoppable soul. And for a split second, I almost felt sorry for the sad sadist suddenly on the receiving end of the most brutal butt ramming of his pitiful wasted life. “I might eat your shit, but I ain’t gonna take your shit, you worthless piece of hate filled crap,” the kid shouted stabbing old queen in the guts repeatedly. We felt like we should step in and pull the kid off him, but still, watching the forced fucking was like a passing particularly gory car accident, the violence of Junior’s vengeance was mesmerizing. Before we could intervene, the boy stopped fucking and stood up without cumming. Instead he delivered a hard and unrestrained kick directly in to Master Mike’s shriveled ballsack, causing the pain freak to start puking all over my carpet. “The only time you’ll see this ass again is when I’m taking a dump on your grave.” Junior shouted before stomping out of the room. “See ya next week,” he yelled, and slammed the bedroom door…… Teenagers. Giving the kid a few minutes to cool down, we helped clean up the boy’s brutalized piñata, before the shaken old fruit pushed us aside, and left the party muttering curses and threats under his breath. When I opened the door and stepped into darkened room, the first thing my Son did was apologize, “Sorry I ruined your party.” Climbing onto the bed beside him, I put my am around his shoulder and assured him that it was his party, and he could fuck who he wanted to. I don’t know how long we’d been cuddling in silence when, the tattooed Teabo poked his head in the door and asked if he could suck Junior’s dick clean. As the retired athlete demonstrated his appreciation on my boy’s bruised phimosis, I got up to go get the GumGripper2000. After asking Doug if I could use his Evangelical turned *****-Slut to teach my Son how to play hand ball the next night (he eagerly agreed claiming to need a little rest from all the time and effort training the human dartboard), I told Teabag Teebow that if he came back in 20 hours (8pm sharp) with six loads of cum up his butt, I promised to slam him so hard he just might die. He left the kid’s tight foreskin and crotch so damn clean, I would have sworn my boy just stepped out of a bubble bath. Ten minutes later, after the kid finished pissing down his hero’s throat, my enthusiastic son began fucking himself with the electric toothbrush like it was some sort of enchanted vibrator, ramming and jabbing the 17 loads we’d injected him with into his raw and ruptured rectum. I knew the ravenous little cum collector had made the right choice. Looking down at his pink, puffy pucker, I pulled out the brush and watched a thin train of pink watery blood mixed with clumps of thick goopy semen wiggle and spill out, reminding me of the first cherry I ever popped. That kunt, I’d knocked up by accident, but this time, it was completely and totally intentional. He’d come to me and asked for this himself. He wanted to be my son, flesh of my flesh, bone of my bone. He wanted to have me inside him forever. This was a birthday present the kid would have for the rest of his life, one he could keep to himself, or share as he saw fit. Fuck white-water rafting; this was the ultimate Father/ Son bonding experience. Pushing my cock head back into my adopted son’s fertile crevice, I started working on finishing what we started seven hours before, with my dripping dong by planting a third dick wadd of my virile viral seed as deep into his load laden gut as far and as hard I could shoot it. “Okay, Son, here comes Daddy’s choo- choo with big number 18!” I grunted Some would say a Dad breeding his Boy is an unnatural act, but nature had fucked with us, and now it was our turn to fuck with nature. I myself had learned at a fine tender age that my Papa’s thick pork hose made the world’s perfect butt plug. In my ideal world, every father would know the joy of trying to impregnate his offspring, when they where old enough to conceptually give it up, of course. Keeping my bursting bladder clamped tight, I resisted the urge to urinate as we enjoyed a brief power nap, my paternal organ lodged deep inside his sweet and skuzzy scum filled interior, trapping a half gallon of warm delicious baby-batter in my offspring’s nut-nursing honey-hole. When his cum hungry kunt started clinching and milking my deranged daddy dick again, I gave him another nut-full to grow on. This kid’s DNA, saturated with my twisted viral strains, was going to change the world. Come what may, I knew without a doubt that this boy, my new son and seminal receptacle, was a survivor. Happy Birthday, Little Buddy. Today you are a man…. Part Five: Cherry Pop: The Father, The Son and the Holey Whore will appear soon in Str8/ Bi-sex Fiction, but be forewarned: It will contain pussy juice, lost and lots of pussy juice.

Like many long term "non-progressers", I did not go on meds for almost 20 years, until after being diagnosed with a common form of lymphatic cancer common among those who've had the bug more than 18 years: first, because in the US, I had no access to affordible health insurance, and second because I saw so many good friends die not because of HIV but by the Damage caused by AZT. The ongoing rejection of co-factor research and the emphasis on HIV-centric treatment is also particularly troubling. A recent report at the World AIDS Conference said that people who take their med's rigorously and puctually are much more like to develop drug resistant strains, but still we're being told that if we don't do it every 8, 12, 24 hours, we'll die- the same fear based sales technique used when back when they when AZT was the only game in town.

Down on his knees and elbows, my Son offered up his freshly seeded teen-twat for my sick and twisted experiments. As billions of my mutant sperm bit and dug their way into his yummy little insides, I prepared my special “process”, equal parts beer and Papa piss mixed with a hefty serving of the finest Tina that the Hell’s Angles could supply, served up in a smelly old anal syringe. If I were a purest, I’d worry that the mini-drug enema would fuck up the implantation process, but the kid’s ass had only just begun to feast on toxic cock-snot. He still had another 16 loads to go before his hard-core toothbrush massage. The combined urine and alcohol made the perfect delivery system for the meth, and as he sat in the passenger seat of my pick up on the way to the park, the speed soaked into his ass-lining along with his daddy’s demon seed. My cock grew rock hard as I watched him blast off, his hands alternating between his swollen briefs and suddenly sensitized nipples. Before leaving the house, I’d let him blow a couple quick loads in my man-hole, and I swear I could feel his uncharged wads bubbling and twisting around inside me, like he’d shot pop-rocks up my ass. My hope had been that by draining his balls, his focus would shift to his newly ignited suck hole and fuck hole, and from the way his hands reached between his legs and fiddled around with the slimy used butt-plug holding this cocktail in place, I was pretty sure I’d succeeded, for now. Like most Friday afternoons just after work, the old park parking lot was packed with cars, but some of the attendees where surely there due to the two ads I posted on my favorite bareback sites. One ad simply said that “ my home schooled son has just turned 18. He is an insatiable little cum junkie who needs to be bred and fed by as many cocks as possible, regardless of looks, size, color, age, or viral status.” The other ad for ‘Poz Players Only’ was much more sinister and received a far greater response. Marketing to those who long to violate and destroy the innocent, I explained that I’d “discovered that my teen age son was a cock sucking little faggot who needed to be taught a deep and permanent lesson about giving his tight little kunt away to strangers. The sicker the better, with preference given to the highest viral loads.” Those who responded were also invited to his breeding party, after he finished his play-date in the park. 30 twisted fuckers RSVP’ed, so I imagined at least 10 would actually show up. With his tennis shoes pressed against the roof of the cab, I removed his warm sticky kunt-stopper like a dipstick and jammed my fingers around inside his hungry wound to make sure his special energy drink had been completely absorbed. My fingernails came out just a little pink, but not too wet, so I pushed them into his mouth for a good cleaning. His chemically inspired tongue went nuts trying to eat up all his own ass-slime. With my other hand, I undid my belt and pulled down the back of my pants enough to slip the wet plug into my own oozing butt for safe keeping. Looking across the lot, I saw my cousin Jack’s old Chevy parked near the trail head, with his buddy Eddie sitting in the driver’s seat. We walked over to the car, and I introduced my son. The retired truck driver and registered sex offe* grinned as he shook the kid’s hand. “That’s quite a grip you got there, Sport.” “And that’s not his best one,” I joked “Is Jack out looking for Richard?” “He won the coin toss, so he gets to go first. I’ll see you in there when he’s done.” Before hitting the head, I lead the kid down the wooded trail, and explained a little of the etiquette for scoring free range cock. In my favorite alcove, I took his shirt and told him to drop his pants. He hesitated only until I released my aching dick from my jeans. Jack had spotted me and followed us in, grinning as the tweeking little cock hound went to work on my manhood. “That’s it boy, suck daddy’s dangerous dick.” Spreading the punk’s butt-cheeks, I silently offered up his tight pucker for my cousin’s inspection. Jack was ten years older than me, but his delicious uncut dick was an inch shorter. I had been nursing on that constantly dripping skin of his for as long as I could remember, and it filled me with a special pride to know that the second cock to cum in the kid would come from family, as I had always planned for my own youngen. I never knew if Jack had infected me or if I had bugged him up. Or it we’d been poisoned independently, and just kept it in the clan. His nose lead his tongue as it does with dogs, Jack started munching on the tyke’s pretty pucker. Moaning with his mouthful, another inch of my meat slithered into my kid’s throat. “Care for a slice of cherry pie?” I offered. “Cherry cream pie’s my favorite,” my uncle’s son mumbled into my son’s kunt. Thanks to the spit shine and the copious flow of charged pre-cum that leaked from his snout, no other lube was required for the kid’s second injection. With a bit of a grunt and a push, the head breached the ring as my son inhaled more of my flesh. “Jesus Fucking Christ,” Jack sighed as his tainted meat wiggled its way into our little fuck toy’s twat. Rocking back and forth, he pushed and pulled the kid between us, providing our boy with fine birthday spit-roast. And true to form, my son’s virgin prostate acted as a powerful jizz magnet, pulling a billion sperm from the horny old dog’s hairy nuts. “Do you want your Uncle Jack to cum in your ass, Son?”, I asked the groaning little fucker, and he whimpered in response. “Then tell him, boy. Ask your Uncle Jack for his goopy Dick Wads.” Releasing his father’s slimy meat, the flying youth begged, “ Please… please Uncle Jack, please cum in my guts. I need it soooo ba…” but that’s as far as he got before my best bud dressed the kid’s insides with his filthy fuck fluid. He jerked and jerked and paused and jerked one final time as the last globs shot from his shaft into his newly made nephew. “Now when a man is good enough to give you his load, sSn, you need to say “thank you” by licking it clean. You got that?” My boy turned, and I knelt beside him and guided the first cock I ever sucked into his hungry gullet. “Get your tongue up inside that skin, and see how you taste inside.” Jack groaned as my son cleaned the scum from under his corona. “Now kiss those balls and say ‘thank you’,” I said holding up the hairy scrotum to his smooth young face. Before we could finish our little ritual, someone stepped from the bushes and pushed his dick into the studling’s recently vacated and freshly lubed hole. “That’s it, buddy, fuck my son good and hard” I encouraged the stranger. “Is he really your son?” the opportunist asked through gritted teeth. “We share the same DNA,” I answered truthfully, now that two squirmy loads of the kid’s benign spunk were swimming around inside my colon. “You sick bastard,” he grunted at me, as Jack began working his reinflating dick around my sperm hound’s sweet mouth. The new guy might have been hot naked, but fully clothed, he looked like a professor, but he fucked with the vigor of a serious breeder. “I read you ad on Nut-hunt. Is he real1y 18?” “I’m required by law to say that he is,“ I whispered evilly, “And you know what? Your are the third man who has ever fucked him.” “Seriously?” he asked as he pounded harder and faster. “Know what else? You’re the only guy outside our family who’s ever touched the inside of his ass…” That did it. He jerked, and slammed, and froze, and jerked, squirting a serious backlog of his nut juice deep into my boy’s tenderized rectal lining. He shook the kid as he shook. Something in the bushes had caught my eye, two red heads standing side by side, watching. One was taller, one was much shorter, and I’d guess they were anywhere from 10 to 20 years apart. They shared many of the same facial features. Were they like Jack and me? Kissin’ cousins on a cum hunt? Or were they the real deal? Before I could give it much thought, the taller, older one stepped forward, just as my son turned around to clean the accommodating stranger’s still granite hard dick. “Should I put on a rubber?” Big red asked. “He’s clean,” I assured him, and then added, “plus he has a latex allergy.” He didn’t hesitate a second longer, releasing his long red, pencil dick and stepping in behind the boy. The first stranger pulled me away without putting his dick back in his pants. “Hey dude? Do you get fucked too? I’ve always really wanted to fuck a father and son.” The boy seemed to be handling himself just fine, Jack looked like he would soon be waxing the kid’s tonsils, so I thought ‘what the fuck’. My rational brain said it would be good for the boy to see his pa taking it like a man, and my irrational mind never passed down a chance at seed. Squeezing tightly to retain my payload, I pulled out the plug, much to my new friends surprise. I passed it to my cousin who slopped it into the kid’s suddenly vacated mouth and told him not to drop it. Hands against the tree, just a few paces from my son and his new anonymous boyfriend, I pulled my cheeks apart before being suddenly stabbed by this guy’s merciless meat. He’d been a lot gentler with the boy than he was with me, starting me out at double speed. Not how I normally liked it right off the bat, but I don’t complain once I get it inside. “You know what?” he spit a whisper into my ear, “ I read BOTH your ads, and I gotta tell you….You’re one sick son of a bitch.” “What can I say? He wanted more spunk than we could give him at home.” He was trying to rupture my ass, and whatever he had taken had given him a diamond dick. There was only one thing to do in this situation. “You’re son fucked up,” he slurred “and now he’s fucked up too. I just pozzed his little kunt with my toxic shit, and now I’m going to bug you up good….” I clamped down as hard as I could on the base of his meat, and jerked with my ass muscles as I moaned “no….No…” over and over again, struggling for his benefit, without ever loosening my grip and that was all it took for his second nut to pop. My kid’s sweet seed was suddenly spoiled by this stranger’s tainted meat. I squeezed and massaged it to get every drop of his lethal steal shaft. Just as Big Red froze and trembled in place. While trying to look upset about getting knocked up on the outside, on the inside, I was sparked up as my fucked up boy took his fifth load of the day. Red didn’t wait to be cleaned up by my appreciative little cum courier, stepping back into the bushes where his own little buddy silently waited. As I led my sick stud over to the kid for a clean up, I retrieved the spit shined plug from his mouth, and inserted the mean stelther’s penis in its place, returning our family cum-cork back into my own bruised and sticky backside. While the kid slobbered all over the slimy death-treat we had just both shared, Big Red pushed his own young companion down to his knees behind the bushes to taste my boy’s free range gut-juice, as it dripped down his spent rod. “He’s gonna get a good kunt brushing about 11 00 tonight,” I said breaking character and giving the guy my address. “Come by and cum again if you want” The abandoned unmaintained public toilets were just as busy as the bushes. While we waited for stall #2 to open up, the one with a glory hole on either side, I lead my slutty toy to a vacant gap between the two dudes loitering at the trough, and put my sweaty arm over his bare shoulder. “You know what this is, Son? “A Urinal?” “That’s right, but it’s something more than that. This is a temple. It was conceived and exists solely to bring relief to the male member. It doesn’t care about color or religion, or how old or how young or how rich or how poor the cock is. It stands here, every day, waiting to swallow down all the fluid it can accommodate, and then in bathes in the overflow that remains. Before there were hook-up sites, or bars, or even bath house, men have always gathered together indoors and outdoors, in places like this, to pull out their meat and let nature take its course. Now kneel down and show your respect.” Obediently, my dazed little cum-dumpster dropped to his knees, and opened his mouth. The old guy next to him watched intently, his wrinkled Vienna sausage poking up out of his zipper. “Need some help?” I asked. Before the grey haired gent could pull back in fear, my fucked up kid lunged at the octogenarian’s randy red pecker and swallowed it whole. Smiling, I assured the startled senior that everything was cool. In the porn version, the beautiful blond cock-hound at the center of the slurp-fest would be surrounded by stunning professional sex gods, but in real life, the men are a lot uglier but the cum is much tastier, and rarely ever wasted. Grandpa seemed entranced with the youngster’s shiny hair and soft cheeks, and grinned sweetly as the two guys at the sinks stepped over and pulled out their dicks. Without much meat munch on, my little sperm muncher took a few moments to worship the old bull’s massive balls, kissing them, and licking them, and rolling them around on his face hand eyes. Such attention was too much for the kindly codger to handle, and I had to tell the kid to quickly get his mouth over the head. Bending over, I whispered in the kid’s ear, “Don’t swallow it yet. Hold that goo in your mouth for a while.” Zipping up quickly, Gramps wobbled over to the sink to wash his hands, and I asked the kid to show me what he had for lunch. Opening his mouth like a baby bird, he sort of smiled and showed me his cum coated tongue, covered in thick curds of cock jelly. One of the dudes jacking beside me couldn’t wait for his turn and stepped up aimed another nut load my cum-whore’s open maw. Some of the thick white jizz hit his nose and cheek, but the twisted fucker managed to beat 90% of his load right on my little slop swallower’s spunk-shined taste buds. A Latino stud of about forty stepped up next and inserted his surprising fat skin-covered meat into my son’s slimed filled mouth, pushing the other dudes’ ejaculate down his throat and out the sides of his lips. Drunk on spunk, the schoolboy swallowed his thick stinky chorizo down to the pubes. For someone who didn’t seem to know what he was doing when he suckled me on the couch two hours before, Daddy’s Little Cocksucker turned out to be a very quick study. After two minutes of tapping those tonsils, Papi Grande stepped back to cool down and let the other guy take a turn. Tall, skinny and waving a flagpole, the young stud in his sweat pants and yellow tennis shoes must have been beating his meat since the day he was born. Watching my boy’s effort to drain every testicle in the toilet had been so distracting I’d some how missed the massive meat he’d been wagging right next to me. My son’s dilated pupils focused on the new guy’s huge fleshsicle for only a second before he stared slapping the kid’s face with it. Not many people outside the porn industry, or the circus, could handle something so big, and the guy seemed intent on playing keep away from the drugged up teenager for long as he could. For a split second my suck student looked up at me like he needed my help, silently begging me to intervene, but the cock flogging was too hot to stop. Papi Grande came to his rescue instead by grabbing a handful of the kid’s blond hair and redirecting his attention back to the beautiful brown pig sticker with the plumb sized purple head. The Jogger fed on the competition and suddenly a sword fight broke out in the little deviant’s mouth. Back and forth, back and forth, my sweet suck hole did his damndest to service the sausages swinging in front of him, but the older guy couldn’t keep up. Grabbing the kid’s ears, he slammed his fat phallus into the back of my son’s throat and fired. The boy swallowed and swallowed almost like the dude had started pissing. How much cum the kid ate, I couldn’t tell, but he began to gag and choke on all the nut-gravy flooding his battered gullet. And that set off the Jogger. Before the thick brown meat was full removed, the second cock-head pushed into his already stuffed mouth and started spraypainting the Spanish guy’s meat with wad after wad of thick cock slop. Spit, snot and slime splashed from Junior’s nose and the sides of his lips. He looked like he might pass out from lack of oxygen, but to his credit, he didn’t drop the blood gorded dude dongs until both cum cannon’s had stopped firing. Behind me, I heard the sound of a stall door slam, and looking back I saw that Cowboy boots from door #2 had finally left the building. “Stay where you are Son. Don’t try to stand up. Just follow me like you are,” Like a loyal puppy, he followed me on his hands and knees. Call me a deranged deviant if you will, but the sight of my freshly baptized flesh and blood crawling like a drunken toddler on the filthy tile floor of derelict shit-house, filled me with a sense of pride that’s hard to express. Some say speed will make you do stupid things, but truth is that it only amplifies what’s already buried deep inside. The clogged toilet hadn’t be flushed, and a fat stinking butt brick about 11 inches long and 3 inches wide rested firmly on a pillow of soggy paper, and right on top, a knotted scum bag filled a good ounce of white gold. I quickly reached in and pulled out the prize, tucking the wet rubber in my breast pocket before taking a seat. Once again, my kneeling Son smiled at me from between my legs. Reaching down, I took his face in my hands and began licking the spittle and spew from his lips, nose and cheeks before pushed my tongue in his ravenous, drug crazed gob. His eyes closed liked he was being kissed for the first time in some romantic movie, as I explored his throat and tongue with my own slime sucker. To my right, a floppy monster dick and set of hairy, bloated balls popped through the hole in the wall, and I recognized it right away as my “Uncle” Eddie’s most prized possession. Shortly after my own father had pulverized my cherry, transforming it into his own private pussy-pudding, my cousin Jack introduced to his favorite dirty old man. Where my dad only humped me late at night when his was drunk and mom had passed out on the couch, Uncle Eddie wanted inside my ass 24/7, whenever and wherever he could get into it. I kissed the sleeping giant before holding it up for my son to taste. The boy’s breathing slowly returned to normal, and he held the full package in his soiled hands like a stuffed stocking on Christmas day. Sniffing the sweaty scrotum like a bouquet of flowers, Junior inhaled deeply, before opening his cum hungry gob once again. Just as the blood flow brought the resting beast to life, a tiny little fundamentalist’s pecker poked through the glory hole on my left. Knowing how much the swollen schlong would hurt the first time, I figured the kid would need all the lube he could get, so I shifted his attention to Reverend Shiny-shoe’s wee willy winky, spreading my son’s smooth butt cheeks and pressing his hungry little kunt right up the scum coated prick porthole. From the size of the three inch pizzle and the way its owner seemed to be trembling, I figured the poor dude hadn’t had many opportunities to get up inside such a beautiful young thing, and I was right. After less then a minute of whining and sighing, a high pitched shriek exploded of the title around us, as the polished Sunday shoes danced in place. I had a feeling Junior wasn’t the only one in the head who lost his virginity that day. From the ferocity of the quick zip, the slam of the stall and the thump of the out house entryway, it sounded like the little dicked donor was running for his life. Junior look at me like he wasn’t sure he’d even been fucked, but that was all about to change as I gripped the base of my Uncle’s big baby-maker, and turned the kid’s freshly spunked jizz-trap towards the very special treat. Uncle Eddie picked up his viral strain at the local penitentiary, and from what I understand it wasn’t a pleasant experience. The combined evil of dozens of junkies, street whores, serial rapists and lifers stewed and brewed in the filthy old perverts swollen low hangers, and it was about to be injected straight into our sweet sacrifice’s needy intestines. “Bare down just a little bit, Son. Not too much. You don’t want to loose that sweet payload, but just enough to get the head in. He’ll know what to do with you after that,” I whispered, aiming up the throbbing man missile with it’s tiny, tight target. They grunted in unison as the oozing purple slime-knob breached the freshly stretched sphincter. At its thickest point, the butt-plug me and the kid had been sharing was about an inch in diameter smaller than the dripping corona that had just punctured his kunt-ring. I kicked myself for forgetting the poppers. “Breath deep, Son, and just keep grunting like a good boy,” I coached him. Though I’d been intimately familiar with the twisted *edo’s butt-club form three quarters of my life, I swear to the Baby Jesus, it got bigger every fucking year. Thank God, I’d taken those Lamaz courses with my teen-bride all those years ago. A little hyperventilation was all my Surrogate Son needed to fit the next five inches of penis slowly up is to his sperm coated rectum. But without the Amyl, I doubted the kid would be able the get it in passed his second door. Good thing Eddie always preferred his fuck-holes unnaturally tight. As Luck would have it, those familiar yellow running shoes and grey sweats appeared below the patrician opposite, moments before the young stud’s long and “relatively” slim Colon Snake slipped through the recently vacated glory-hole across from the kid’s painfully clinched face. What’s a Dad to do? The kid needed to focus on something beyond the gut wrenching ramrod roaming around recklessly inside his tender rump. Did my little Speed demon recognize the long shlong that had so recently battered his handsome cheeks and pregnant esophagus? Using both his grunge coated hands, my boy instinctively pulled the resurrected hose to his lips. Squeezing down, I pulled the plug from my poisonous pucker and set it precariously on the rim of the turd filled bowl, as a stood and stepped between my spit-roasted suckling pig and the Jogger’s juicy javelin. Distracting my kid with a kiss, I grabbed the rock hard rooster and pushed it up into my goopy guts. My birthday boy quivered and whimpered as his new uncle tried to rip him a new one. Sighing in his open mouth, I licked his swollen lips and sore throat, exploring his uvula before giving him the rare treat of his first nostril cleansing. He trembled as my tongue tried to slither its way up into his unexplored sinuses. Tempted as I was to steal another load from the kid, I pulled off when the athlete’s pounding started signaling that he was getting close to the finish line. Quickly I pushed Junior’s mouth back down of the pozz smeared beef-stick that I’d just released from my nasty grip. “About Face,” I ordered, but my boy’s cock-stuffed mumbles indicated his confusion. “Turn around,” I translated. With visible relief on his face, he dislodged from my so-called uncle’s sperminator, and sat back on the jogger’s pulsing prick. And wouldn’t you know it, after 6 inches on the skinnier dick, his second door quickly popped open to allow the other 3 and a half inches in. I took a moment to comfort and clean Eddie’s veiny butt-bat, noticing a little blood mixed in with the all the jizz that the kid had already collected from 5 accommodating strangers. The worlds greatest athlete couldn’t last very long in the drug deranged youngster’s hot-box, and soon the boy stopped bouncing his butt against the wall behind him as the warm spray of man-milk washed and rinsed his innards. Always the ATM fan, I repeated the “about face” command after the generous sperm donor had times to squeeze out the last chunky globs, and my little champ and I shared his slick slime coated fuck-stick, as the randy old perv in the next stall took a second stab at the punk’s properly stretched pucker. On the second go, Eddie managed to get the whole fucking thing in balls deep, and instead of wincing in pain, Junior now surfed an endorphin rush like he was riding at pony. I let the kid lick our butt-plug again like a ditch bitch’s lollipop, before returning it to it proper place, alongside the dense scumbag I’d retrieved earlier from the toilet after puncturing the tip with my teeth. As coincidence would have it, a six and a half inch penile pointer poked it’s head out from the prick portal, dress up all pretty and protective in a pink plastic prophylactic. As the kid bent down to take the spermicide slathered safety sack in his mouth, I stopped him. No matter how much the camouflaged hefty sack looked like a yummy red doggie dick, I wasn’t going to let my boy waste his time on an amateur. Thumping and grunting in unison, I recognized that familiar sound of my buddy reaching his peek. Holding my son firmly in place, I prevented him from escaping or pulling back from the brutal pounding Uncle Eddy was about to deliver. The filth that spewed for his mouth was truly fucking depraved. Unfortunately, the law prevents me from repeating suck sick and disgusting expletives here. Tears welled up in my little buddy’s eyes even though his suddenly tranquil expression indicated that he may have simply slipped into a state of shock. A lion roared and all the patricians in the public pissior shook. My guess is that my second favorite father figure hadn’t beat off in a couple of days, because his groans were almost defining. I hoped that no one in the next county called 911. “You ready to go home yet, Sport?” I asked out of sincere concern, while the blissed out youth stood still with his eyes closed, doing he best to massage out the last few drops into his ravaged yet still ravenous cum-canyon. “Please Papa…. Just one more…then we can go home….I promise, Please….” He pleaded, just as if he were the natural byproduct of my own bulbous balls. “Okay then Son. Squeeze down as tight as you can, and then cum sit on daddy’s lap.” Eddie didn’t wait for the clean up. He buttoned his jeans and grunted “See you at 7,” before exiting stall #1. Some guys just can’t take a hint. Rubber man wouldn’t vacate his place, and as my smooth sweat soaked stud-ling shivered and snuggled in my furry arm. I could see the hunger and temptation playing across my jizz-junky’s cute face. Fortunately, nature intervened. Door #1, opened and closed, and eye peeked through empty hole, followed shortly there after by two coaxing fingers. The boy’s butt battering had taken its toll on his own yummy prize, but I figured a good blow job might just be the thing to tighten up his mangled ass rings and shift his focus, so we could get the fuck away from the precious pink pricklette planted patiently in the other blow-hole. Whoever the mystery man was kneeling behind the wall, my son’s sighs and whimpers indicated that he had clearly made a friend for life. I’m embarrassed to say I had not thought for a second that the kid would be interested in enjoying a glory-hole from the other side, but as they say, like father like son. He turned and smiled at me for a second, as I noticed the guy on his knees stood up and showed off his heels. Junior’s eyes opened wide as Mr. Mysterious guided my boy’s longer than average prick into an unseen butt. Now the kid started practicing what he’d been studying all day, fucking the anonymous asshole with a vigor born from testosterone saturation. Grunt. Plug. Grunt. Plug, my Son put on a hell of a show. Soon he was whispering his own brand of filth, slamming his meat hard it to some unknown ‘tattletale’ who clearly deserved the what my boy was dishing out. “Tell mommy about THAT, you fucking little cry-b…” he shouted at the ceiling as his kneecaps slammed brutally into the barrier separating him from his prey. Captain Condom held his ground the whole time, and I found my inspiration in Junior’s juicy rage. Watching the shoes on the side turn round once again as the lad’s lucky recipient demonstrated the pure pleasure and indescribable delight of the post fuck tongue bath, I reached over and gripped Pinkie’s poker with my hand. Turning his attention back to me, my boys seemed shock at my perceived reversal, but I wasn’t about to disappoint my young apprentice. Squeezing the synthetic pseudo-shield in a less than friendly manner, I leaned over and caught the reservoir tip with my teeth, removing it cleanly, before smiling at my son and making the “shhhhh” sign by pressing my stinky finer to my lips. “Okay Son, “ I said just loud enough for the struggling stranger to hear, “One last ride, and then its time to go.” There’s nothing like blowing a load to realign a man’s ass rings, and despite Uncle Jack brutal bludgeoning, Junior’s posterior had snapped back into showroom condition. 5 loads allowed him to slip down on the latex death-trap with ease, though I told him in no uncertain terms to “Grip it tight as you can for Daddy.” Had the stupid, rude fuck-head ever felt the actual inside of a man’s body before? I have no idea, but I was certain my boys’ ass-lips had done an excellent job of pealing back the protective wrapper, exposing the raw corona and wasted urethra to my fuck toy’s lethally coated guts. Slipping me the evilest little sneer, my boy humped up and down, hard and fast, revealing a bit of that a mean streak that made me love him all the more. After waiting so long, and succumbing to the indescribable warm wet delight of actual skin on skin contact, the interloper couldn’t hold back any longer, just as my son refused to left go. The unseen figure beside us moaned loudly, as I reached in between the boy and the ball buster to squeeze his nuts and grip the base of his spasming shaft. I could feel he seed pulsing and pushing out his piss shoot into my son’s insatiable walls. When he finally felt ready to retract his inconsiderate prick from our playground, I held the prophylactic ring with my fingers, creating the illusion that I’d waited until he was done to dislodge it and its contents. I held up the decapitated and shredded sperm killer for my boy to see. Isn’t it great to share a secret? With one final plop, I returned our common kunt stopper back into my teenager’s ravaged rectum, trying my best to secure the half dozen nut loads of potentially poisonous ball sauce, but several strands on the infectious silver slime slithered their way out in an attempt to impregnate the back of his thighs. Using two fingers, I scooped up the escapees and shoved them into my own mouth, savoring the salty sick taste of his venom fortified birthday treats. The Toilet Gods must have been smiling on us because just as the clueless bastard behind the wall was about ready to engage us in conversation, a distant car horn gave three long loud bursts, as a concerned citizen graciously notified all his fellow fuck hounds and cum hunter that a police car had just rolled into the parking lot. I gave my son his t-shirt and a big sperm coated kiss on lips before we exited our stall, and headed back to my place for the main event. 8 loads in and 10 more to go!

Check out Chem Sex Fiction on Jan. 2 when our young hero/hole will get a yummy beer piss booty bump and the first 8 of his 18 loads. Thanks for the feedback (and the hooks ups) you sick freaks. Daddy knows best!