CrazyAngel

Subject: Jeramie LeCleaux -- Chapter 7 Jeramie LeCleaux Boyslut Detective Case File 007 The Case of the Birthday Pi?ata Puzzle Written by Daddy-Chief Feel free to donate to Nifty so that stories keep fty/donate.html Synopsis: Jeramie LeCleaux is a ten-year old kid detective and slut puppy. When trouble strikes, he uses his wits and his well-trained boypussy to root out clues and interrogate suspects. It is time for Jeramie and Ricky's joint birthday party. Since both boys have birthdays so close together, their parents throw a soiree in the park each year. This year, however, hosts some very unusual gifts that send Jeramie on a quest for truth. Meanwhile, Ricky learns some unpleasant truths of his own. ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Light from the fireplace flickered across the room. The flames in the brick base, kept alive by a pair of logs, cast shadows on the walls which danced and swayed. Outside, a cold wind whipped at the tree branches. Rain and sleet pelted at the glass, tapping out an eerie sound that mingled in the air with the occasional pop from the fire logs. The living room had been dark for hours. A mess of candy wrappers, pizza boxes, and Super Nintendo controllers lay scattered across the floor, a testament to the party that had been held there hours earlier. Two forms lay on the floor as well. A clean spot had been made by casually tossing the debris aside. The older of the two lay stretched out on the carpet. His hairy, muscled body and pale skin?remnant of his French ancestors?lay poised above the young boy underneath him. Detective LeCleaux was naked. A candy bar wrapper had gotten stuck to his lower back, just above where his perfectly-sculpted ass stuck out. He was coated with a layer of sweat. The thick carpet adorning his chest was plastered to the skin. "Fuuucckkk," he moaned out, doing his damnedest to keep quiet. The boy underneath him moaned. Detective LeCleaux had already warned him once about making noise. They needed to be quiet in order for the extremely taboo tryst happening to carry on without interruption. At the moment, however, the only thought occupying his mind was how warm and tight the boycunt currently wrapped around his cock was. It squeezed his girthy cudgel in all the right places. Plus, the others had been upstairs for a while. There hadn't been a sound from them since the two lovers slipped downstairs. His son Jeramie was presently fast asleep. Their other house guest lay passed out in bed next to him. At the time, it had seemed safer to move their fun to the first floor. Daddy LeCleaux had made sure both boys were dead to the world before he had roused his conquest from bed. The two spent a few minutes stripping each other of what few clothes they had on. Soft kisses and light touches followed. However, it hadn't taken long for Daddy LeCleaux to become fully aroused. Once that happened, any patience left in his body evaporated. He needed to fuck a boycunt, and the one in front of him had looked especially enticing. Thus, they crept out of the guest bedroom and down the hall, tiptoeing across each step leading to the first floor. Daddy LeCleaux had placed his succulent conquest in front of the still-burning fire. There, his large hands explored every single inch of the tender flesh and small frame underneath him. The boy moaned in pleasure, his own little paws taking joy in playing with the thick carpet of hair crowning the man's chest. He couldn't get enough of the sensation coming through the tips of his fingers. The windows, meanwhile, rattled as the wind picked up. Warm air from the Gulf had caused a spike in the local temperature. The snow from last month had become a faint memory. Kids were wearing their jackets to school less and less. It drove some of the mothers in town frantic, while others pointed out that the warmer temperatures meant their children played outside more. The nights remained a bit more chilly, however?to say nothing of the storms. Hence the need for a fire in the fireplace. It added a romantic atmosphere to the defiling of a boypussy that should have been far too young for ten inches of thick, hard man meat. However, that was precisely what was happening. Daddy LeCleaux drove his shaft deep inside of the writhing boy underneath him. He moved at a steady, even pace, one that spoke of much practice at fucking a hole so much younger than him. The sweat coating his body shook free and rained down onto the carpet, soaking it with his musky male odor. The little boy beneath him gasped. His eyes flew open?not from the intrusion, but due to the intense wave of orgasmic bliss rolling over his small body. As Daddy LeCleaux gazed down upon the child he was using for his own pleasure, the boy's eyes fluttered. He was already reaching that pinnacle of ecstasy that Daddy LeCleaux's cock gave him. There were signs of it everywhere. Daddy LeCleaux could tell by how the boy's mouth hung open. His lower lip was wet and swollen. A small pink tongue stuck out slightly. The boy's chest heaved as much as the adult man's above him?though the differences could not be more stark. Daddy LeCleaux's body had been sculpted from years of hard work, as well as a couple of hours every day in the Sheriff station weight room. Hair adorned much of his exposed flesh. His long, honey-colored hair flowed down past his shoulders, as matted with sweat as the rest of him was. The boy, by contrast, was tiny and smooth. His slender limbs began clawing at the adult man above him, seeking purchase. He was getting lost in the sensations again, being driven to a place where conscious thought was a vague memory. Daddy LeCleaux grinned at this, and continued driving his cock deep inside with each thrust. Daddy LeCleaux had not been breeding the boy from across the street for very long, but this was not their first encounter. Their clandestine rendezvouses had been brief so far, but intense. Tonight was special for them both. They could have as much fun together as they wanted. The others were fast asleep. Daddy LeCleaux could breed the talented boycunt presently squeezing his shaft like a vice as many times as he liked. Feeling his breaths come quicker, Daddy LeCleaux bent forward, nibbling on one soft ear. "That's it, boy," he whispered, increasing the tempo of his thrusts slightly as he spoke. "You're doing so good." The boy bit down on his lower lip. "I want... to be good," he managed to get out as his toes curled. Both of his legs were wrapped securely around Daddy LeCleaux's waist. "You make me feel... oh, so good, sir!" The word `sir' sent shivers through Daddy LeCleaux's body. "I love having such a good boy underneath me. It feels like your little cunt was meant to take cock." The boy's eyes were unfocused, but they managed to zero in on Daddy LeCleaux's face for a moment. "I hope so," he gasped, feeling his tummy bulge as the massive cock inside of him drove deep once again. "I want... want to be special. Wanna feel you..." His face burned red for a moment from embarrassment. "Go on," Daddy LeCleaux whispered when his conquest hesitated. "You can say it in front of me. I won't be mad." "F..." The boy hesitated again, but then blurted his words out. "Fuck me, sir! My boypussy needs more cock! It needs to be bred by you!" The kid had picked up quite the vocabulary. Daddy LeCleaux, however, was not responsible for it. He had been quite shocked the first time such filthy language came flying out between what had at first looked like such innocent lips. Granted, those same innocent lips had been sucking down Daddy LeCleaux's fat knob, but it nevertheless startled him. Daddy LeCleaux chuckled, nipping at the ear once more. "Where'd you learn to talk like that?" he wondered, even though?privately?it was a huge turn on. Eddie Baxter, Ricky's younger brother, giggled. "I go... oh, fuck sir! To the... Mmmm, library a lot, sir!" he managed to get out. The answer didn't really satisfy Daddy LeCleaux, and so his thrusts slowed. "Meaning?" he wondered, as more sweat rolled down off his forehead. Eddie giggled again. "The librarians... oh, please sir! Don't fucking stop! Uhhh, the librarians don't really watch me. I can... Ahhh! I can go wherever I want. They think... Shit! Think I'm a good boy and... Please sir, more!" Daddy LeCleaux did not completely let up on his assault of the boy's innards. "Tell me," he ordered, keeping his thick tool buried halfway inside of the over-stretched and very much used boypussy. Eddie let out several needy gasps before responding. "They don't watch me," he repeated. "I stay quiet. They see me go inside... please, fuck me, Daddy!" Detective LeCleaux, however, would not relent. "Tell me," he ordered again, shifting so the boy could better feel his adult cock moving inside of him. This had the desired effect of making Eddie's body quake with primal need. "Please sir!" he whimpered, but when Daddy LeCleaux didn't comply, he blurted out, "I sneak into the room with the dirty books, sir!" Daddy LeCleaux chortled. "They have one of those?" he asked, allowing Eddie about half of an inch more of his cock, which made the boy gasp. "It's not locked," Eddie went on, breathing fast. "I go into the... the kids section and read. Then... then sneak over to the room... the room where... oh, please, sir I can't take it. I need to get f?!" Daddy LeCleaux's hand came down hard onto Eddie's mouth, muffling his words. "Shhh!" he hissed sharply. As he did, however, his thrusts increased in both speed and intensity. "So you've been breaking the law this whole time, huh?" he demanded, driving his cock deep inside of Eddie's worn and wrecked boycunt, which spasmed from the assault. "Sneaking into places you shouldn't to read naughty books. Learning about stuff before you should while all those nice ladies go about their business. Breaking their trust." Daddy LeCleaux's cock was relentless. It hammered against Eddie's back wall?that spot inside of a boy that normally mean there was no more room for cock. Daddy LeCleaux didn't let up, though. He kept his hand pressed tightly down over Eddie's mouth as he whispered in one ear, still pounding at the tiny little boy's back door. "You are a filthy little boy, ain'cha?" Daddy accused, feeling the head of his cock push ever so slightly past that barrier. "Mmmmmggphh!" Eddie tried to say, but was blocked by the vice grip Daddy LeCleaux had on his mouth. Instead, he nodded once very quickly. "That's what I thought!" Daddy LeCleaux hissed in the boy's ear as he felt his climax approaching. "Filthy little faggot boys like you should be tossed in jail. There'd be lots of bad men there that would love to take advantage of a used boypussy like this." Daddy LeCleaux held Eddie within his gaze, who looked slightly frightened now. "But," Daddy went on, "if I did that, then I wouldn't get to keep this tight little boypussy all to myself. Now, would I?" Eddie looked visibly relieved. "Or maybe," Daddy LeCleaux went on as his balls rose up, preparing to unleash their contents deep inside of the child underneath him. "That's what you really want? Would you like that? A bunch of big strong men with hard cocks taking advantage of you?" Eddie's eyes flew open again. It may have been that he was excited. His little body certain reacted as such. A rolling boygasm rocked Eddie at that moment from head to toe. He thrashed on the carpet in front of the fireplace, writhing with pleasure as Daddy LeCleaux bred him raw. Or, it might have been that he was terrified. His eyes rolled up into the back of his skull as he dry orgasmed, so it was hard to tell. The thought of being gangbanged by random strangers was a bit much, after all. Especially for a boy who had only been with one man at that point. It could have been that he was rocked with fear even as his body went out of control. None of that mattered, however, because Daddy LeCleaux was cumming hard inside of the little boy slut underneath him. "Shhhiiiittt!" Daddy LeCleaux hissed, fighting back the urge to shout his pleasure for the whole house to hear. "Mmmmm!" Eddie moaned, still bucking up and down, trying to force all ten inches inside of him while Daddy LeCleaux held his mouth closed. "Mmmmmmmm!" Eventually, the waves of pleasure subsided. Daddy LeCleaux managed to catch himself, using his muscular arms to keep from crushing poor little Eddie Baxter underneath his weight. This meant he had to let go of Eddie's mouth, though. Eddie, however, merely lay still on the carpet underneath the bigger man, breathing fast and deep. He could feel Daddy LeCleaux's cock still inside of him. It had cum a lot. Eddie could feel that thick, hot load of man jizz buried deep in his cunt hole. "Sir?" he whispered softly in the quiet of the darkened living room. Daddy LeCleaux blinked, and brought his eyes back into focus. "Yeah, sport?" he replied in a hoarse tone. Eddie stared pleadingly up into Daddy LeCleaux's face. "Will you fuck me again, sir? Pretty please? My boypussy needs more of your hard cock and cum inside of it right now, sir!" Detective LeCleaux stared, then chuckled. "You a such an insatiable little slut, aren't you?" In answer, Eddie began to move. He turned as slowly and as carefully as he could, trying to keep Daddy LeCleaux's still-hard cock inside of him. Little by little, Eddie managed to get himself up on all fours. "Can we do it like this now?" he asked politely while rubbing his back against the virile carpet of hair that adorned Detective LeCleaux's chest and stomach. "I can feel so much of you inside of me this way." Daddy LeCleaux could already feel his hips moving before he even answered. "Fuck," he whispered. "It's gonna be a long night, sport." ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ A cry rang out, echoing in the ears of those close enough to hear while making it rain dust down from the rafters. Several hundred children joined in with the cacophony. As one, they rose up out of their desks and raced for the door leading out of their respective classrooms. It was the last day of school before spring break. A whole week of Nintendo, fun in the sun, and watching cartoons lay ahead of them. The joy that was felt from this could not be denied. Even the teachers, despite their wincing at the noise, wore smiles as their students peeled out of Pembrooke Falls Elementary together. Among the crowd were Ricky Baxter and Jeramie LeCleaux. The two walked side by side together through the hallway. Jeramie's gait was considerably more subdued, at least compared to his classmates. An observant eye, however, would note the spring in his step, the way his arms swung forward elatedly, and the broad grin spread across his face. Ricky, for his part, wanted to be seen as cool, like his best friend. Therefore, he maintained an air of nonchalance. The same keen eye would note that it was all an act, though. Despite this, it was clear that both shared the same elation at the prospect of having a week off from their studied. None of their teachers had given them assignments over the holiday. Even better, a warm front from down along the Gulf coast had drifted their way. The weatherman predicted rain, but also an end to the chill that was still plaguing the Maryland town. Therefore, it was with their hearts beating rapidly in their chests that the two stepped out into the sunshine. A handful of clouds dotted the otherwise clear blue sky. "We taking the bus?" Ricky asked, jerking a thumb toward the row of yellow buses sitting idly with their engines running. A line of kids had already formed in front of each. "Nah," Jeramie replied, noting the amount of pushing and shoving. "Let's walk home." Ricky put up no protest. Their shoes crunched along the gravel of the parking lot as they hurried for the gate. Despite knowing it wasn't true, the duo moved as if the iron doors to the chain-link fence might slam shut, locking them inside. Ricky, therefore, looked visibly relieved when they reached the sidewalk. "Spring break," he said, wearing a broad grin on his face as he tossed his head toward the sky. "Hard to believe it's here already." Jeramie laughed and pulled his light jacket closer. "Especially as it's still cold," he replied, shivering slightly. "April can't get here soon enough." "You ain't kidding." Ricky hesitated long enough to hop across a large crack in the sidewalk. "Step on a crack. Break your mother's back." Jeramie shook his head, but took a larger step as well to avoid the hazard. "I'm more worried about tripping and falling," he retorted cheekily. "You would," Ricky responded. "With your short legs." Quickly, he stuck his tongue out to let Jeramie know he was teasing. "So," Ricky went on while Jeramie rolled his eyes. "You and your Dad still going camping?" Jeramie paused, taken aback by the question momentarily. "Um, yeah," he answered, unable to fight the smile that stretched his mouth further. "I am, and we are. Why do you ask?" Once a year, during April when the weather warmed up, Jeramie's father took him camping. They traveled to a camp spot further south down by a lake. It was a great chance for them both to get away for a few days. It had been a sore spot for years with Ricky. His dad rarely, if ever, did anything fun with him. During this time, Ricky would be at his surliest, quiet with a sour disposition hanging around him. The lack of such was refreshing. "I'm cool with it," Ricky said. It sounded as though he meant it. "Really. You'll be back in a few days, right?" "Yeah," answered Jeramie, still somewhat stunned by Ricky's easygoing manner. "It's just for the weekend, like always. Dad'll take an extra day off so we don't have to drive back on Sunday." "Plus," Ricky added, "you'll get to spend the Friday home from school." Jeramie's Dad didn't like to use his influence a lot. Their camping trips, however, were an exception. Because of the long drive, Detective LeCleaux pulled a few strings with the school board, letting Jeramie miss school the Friday before their weekend camping trip. They would spend the day driving so that Saturday and Sunday having fun before heading back on Monday. Jeramie's grades were always good, so they didn't have to worry about him falling behind. Plus, his teachers were usually cool about letting him make up assignments. It was one more reason Ricky had been jealous in the past. "Today," Jeramie reminded, hoping to chance the subject before Ricky's mercurial mood shifted. "We both get the afternoon off." The last day of school before spring break came with a tradition, at least in Pembrooke Falls. Students were given what the teachers called a "Sixty-percent Day". Pembrooke Falls Elementary let their students go home at a little after noon. There were four of them per school year. Each one was arranged to coincide with vacation time. Ricky held the theory that it was because their teachers wanted extra time to themselves. Jeramie doubted that was the case, due to having a better understanding of how the educational system worked. Nevertheless, the ten-year old sleuth didn't doubt that the school faculty appreciated it as much as the students did. If not more. "Yup!" Ricky fell for Jeramie's feint. "Plus, we have the party to look forward to. How awesome is that, man?" A faraway look took over Ricky's face for a moment. "Just think," he went on. "Pretty soon, we'll both be eleven years old! Can you believe it?" One thing that had helped Ricky and Jeramie bond as friends was the fact that their birthdays fell within a few days of one another, usually during spring break. Due to the convenience, their families always arranged for them to share a birthday party together. Jeramie's Dad usually wound up footing the bill. In exchange, Mrs. Baxter planned everything and made sure all of their friends had a ride. This year had been tricky, though, since the weather was still a bit chilly. Some prodding from the boys and Detective LeCleaux had convinced her, however. As always, the boys were having their party in the park. Despite the chill, the day was bright and shiny. January and February had been particularly dreary. Therefore, the thought of getting to run around and let off steam had it's appeal. Of course, Ricky had held off hope once again that they would have their party at Chuck E. Cheese's. Unfortunately, the nearest one was several towns over. Plus, Mrs. Baxter went on a tirade every year about how expensive those parties were every single year. Jeramie knew that money wasn't really the issue. Mrs. Baxter didn't care for the mascots. The songs they sang got on her nerves. Privately, he didn't blame her. "There's your Dad," Ricky said, pointing. He sounded a bit more enthusiastic than usual. "C'mon! Let's hurry!" Ricky took off before Jeramie could respond. The skinny, honey-haired twink raced after his friend, keeping pace. Ricky enjoyed a brief head start, but Jeramie was at his side by the time they reached the LeCleaux home driveway. "Sir," Ricky said respectfully. Ricky, Jeramie noticed, had been acting more respectful toward Detective LeCleaux. His friend had always admired the man. Recently, though, something had changed. That said, if Jeramie's Dad felt it, he gave no indication. "Boys," Detective LeCleaux replied as he loaded birthday party supplies into the trunk of their car. "Have a good day at school?" "It was school," Ricky replied in his usual cool manner. "Things have been quiet lately," Jeramie added, providing a bit more detail. "No scary bomb threats or rigged sporting events." Detective LeCleaux laughed. "Isn't that a good thing, though?" he inquired, wiping sweat from his brow as he bent over. Daddy LeCleaux's muscles flexed underneath the thin shirt he wore as he lifted the heavy cooler into the back. Ricky watched closely, seemingly transfixed. It brought a fresh smile to Jeramie's face. He had the sneaky suspicion that his best friend was attempting to flirt. Ricky had learned about Jeramie and Detective LeCleaux's special relationship not long ago. Since then, he'd been hassling Jeramie about getting his Dad to fuck Ricky. Ricky wanted to know what sex with a man felt like. He was especially keen to have Jeramie's Dad take his virginity. Thankfully, Ricky's enthusiasm had cooled a little over the last couple of weeks. He still brought up the idea, but only every so often. Like with most things, Ricky's interest in something waned after a bit. Privately, Jeramie was relieved. He'd been giving Ricky instructions on how to stretch himself "down there" in preparation for taking an adult man's cock. However, Daddy LeCleaux was not a man for beginners. Jeramie worried that Ricky was trying to bite off more than he could chew. "It's boring," Ricky said, making a face. "It's nice to have Bradley Cotton off our backs," Jeramie pointed out, playing the devil's advocate. "Still," Ricky mused, kicking a stone out of the driveway. "I miss the excitement." Jeramie said nothing, knowing full well how his friend's moods could be. "There," Daddy LeCleaux said, slamming the trunk of the car shut. "That takes care of the heaviest stuff." "I'll do the rest for you," Jeramie replied immediately, reaching for one of the smaller equipment containers. "Do you want to take a shower before we go?" Several beads of sweat rolled down Detective LeCleaux's chest, getting lost in the fabric of the thin shirt he had on. Both boys were briefly transfixed by the sight. Daddy LeCleaux stretched, seemingly oblivious to the effect he was having on the duo. Jeramie felt his experienced boypussy flex. A deep ache formed inside of Ricky as well, begging to be filled. Their breath quickened together. In that moment, had they spoken up, Daddy LeCleaux would have taken them upstairs and pounded a load inside of each of them. "Good idea. See you in a few minutes, son," Detective LeCleaux said, breaking the spell. "And don't dawdle. Decorating the party will take at least an hour." "Yes, sir!" both boys chimed at the same time. Jeramie and Ricky watched as his Dad headed for the front door. "C'mon," Jeramie said, his voice huskier than usual. "Let's get started." To his surprise, Ricky made no protest. The two set to work, making good progress getting the back seats of the car loaded. Jeramie was nearly finished when Ricky suddenly spoke up. "Ah, dammit!" Ricky groaned, clutching his abdomen suddenly. "Sorry, man. I've gotta go take a monster shit. Mind if I use your restroom?" Ricky lived right across the street, but Jeramie merely nodded and kept working. His friend smiled in appreciation and took off for the same door that Detective LeCleaux had used. Jeramie did note, though, that Ricky didn't appear to be in pain anymore. This was because, in actuality, Ricky was fine. He smirked to himself, feeling proud for having put one over on his friend, the famous child detective. Ricky's sneakers squeaked across the tile floor as he hurried through the house, taking the stair steps two at a time. He couldn't hear the şişli travesti shower running. This gave him hope, and sure enough, Ricky was greeted by the sight of a very naked Bryce LeCleaux when he stepped into the master bedroom. "Thought you'd turn up," Detective LeCleaux said, grinning broadly. "We don't have a lot of time, but I can give you a good, quick fuck before we go." Ricky didn't give an answer. His fingers began tearing at the clothes covering his lithe little body, already in the early stages of a growth spurt. In seconds, they were left in a pile on the floor. Ricky then charged, hands out to grab hold of the older man's cock, and was shocked when Daddy LeCleaux smacked them away. "Owww!" Ricky whined, rubbing the red spot that Jeramie's Dad had left on the back of his head. "First," Daddy LeCleaux said in an authoritative tone. "You're gonna be a good little faggot bitch boy by cleaning up all the scum in my crotch." Unshed tears sprouted at the edges of Ricky's eyes. "No arguing," Daddy LeCleaux barked, pointing one finger down at a spot in front of him. "And no crying. Get down in front of me and wash off every last drop of sweat and grime, boy!" Shaking, Ricky did as he was commanded. His little pink tongue stuck out between a quivering pair of lips as he brought his face forward. The musk from Daddy LeCleaux's balls hit him like a truck, causing him to flinch involuntarily. "I ain't got all day, boy." Daddy LeCleaux's face left no room for discussion. "I'm sure that Jeramie would be glad to wash me down there. He is, after all, such a good..." The psychology worked. Ricky dove forward, burying his face in the spot between Daddy LeCleaux's thighs, just below where his two pendulum balls swung. The slut-in-training lapped and sucked there, trying very hard not to gagged from the taste. Daddy LeCleaux introduced Ricky to something new on a sexual level each time they were together. Nevertheless, his experience with men was still limited. Ricky had to be patient, something he was terrible at, because of how short these encounters were. Daddy LeCleaux had several rules, all of which were to ensure that they didn't get caught. He had explained to Ricky afterward that going into his bedroom had been breaking one. It was too great of a risk, but he had been so eager to break Ricky's tight little cherry bottom. Ricky hadn't minded. It made him feel special to know that Daddy LeCleaux?an adult man and respected member of the community?broke the rules to be with him. "Yeah, there we go!" Daddy LeCleaux said as the obscene slurps coming from Ricky filled the room. "Mmmmm!" Ricky moaned. "Grruuuhhh!" Whatever the boy was trying to say, it got lost in translation. Daddy LeCleaux spread his legs wider, giving the boy further access. Ricky began to jerk Daddy LeCleaux's cock off, smearing precum up and down the thick length. It was something he had learned during one of their earlier encounters. "Fffrrkk muhhh," Ricky moaned as his tongue finished cleaning the grime, sweat, and scum off the muscle god standing before him. "Prreezz!" Daddy LeCleaux looked down. "What was that, boy?" he asked. Ricky chanced pulling back out of Daddy LeCleaux's crotch. "Fuck me, sir," he repeated, looking plaintively up at his hero. "Please! Jeramie's probably finished by now. I need you to fuck me before we leave. Please!" A hand came down hard, gripping Ricky by the scruff of the neck. He felt himself being raised up off the floor. The strength in Daddy LeCleaux's body made him quiver with a boy's primal need to be fucked, to be owned by the greater alpha male. He was tossed like a limp rag doll onto his stomach over the bed. The weight from Daddy LeCleaux's body pressed him into the mattress. The man had climbed on top of him, using his larger, hairier, more muscular body to hold little Ricky in place. The size difference between them was phenomenal. It was like watching a predator move in for the kill. Ricky started to sweat himself. Fear sent shivers through his body, making him shake. One hand came down sharply, leaving behind a red hand print on the boy's left ass cheek. "What is it you want, boy?" Daddy LeCleaux barked. "Ow!" Ricky cried. "Fuck me, sir!" "Again!" the older man barked, leaving a second hand print on Ricky's cheek. "Mmm!" Ricky whimpered in pain. "Oh, fuck me, sir! Please, just f?!" Daddy LeCleaux spanked Ricky before he could finish. "What?" he snapped roughly. "Fuck me!" Ricky pleaded, wiggling his little boy ass temptingly at the older man in some vain hope that it might end the assault. "Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuuuucckkk!" With little warning, Ricky felt what might have easily been mistaken for a thick, fleshy baton split him in half. Daddy LeCleaux dropped his body down, expertly aiming the helmet head of his cock right at Ricky's waiting hole. It pushed the tight protective ring open easily. There was nothing that the poor boy's sphincter could do to keep Daddy LeCleaux out. Ricky found himself skewered on several inches of prime alpha male cock. The first of ten inches had blown past the barrier. Ricky breathed quick and deep, feeling the room tilt as another inch speared his cunt hole open. "There we go," Daddy LeCleaux whispered in Ricky's ear. "Nice and deep. Like ripping off a band-aid." Fucking a boy's pussy, even one that was no longer a cherry virgin, was a bit more intense than taking off a bandage. However, the principle behind it was the same. It was better in the long run?to Daddy LeCleaux's mind at least?to not mince words or take one's time. The pain would become so much that said boy would eventually beg for the cock splitting him in two to be taken out. This would make fucking the boy all the harder. He would have to have his hole stretched open all over again. Each inch would have to be inserted painstakingly. Therefore, Daddy LeCleaux used the alternative method. Pounding Ricky's tight little cunt gave him no recovery time. He could experience the fuck while the shock of taking cock inside of him took care of the pain. "More!" Ricky begged, even as tears streamed down his face. "Please, more!" For his part, Ricky refused to let the pain get to him. If Jeramie could take such a big cock inside of him, Ricky could as well. Ricky was taller and stronger than his best friend. He needed to prove that such a big cock wasn't beyond his little pussy hole's ability to suck down. Daddy LeCleaux was enjoying himself. He would raise up high enough off Ricky after several deep thrusts. The boy's hole gripped his cock desperately. It was like the little faggot cunt couldn't stand the thought of being empty. The red ring of boy muscle looked stretched and puffy. By the time Daddy LeCleaux was finished, he had no doubt that it would resemble a train wreck. His cock dove back down, shoving the full length into Ricky's bowels. "Uuugghh!" Ricky grunted at the invasion. Raising back, Daddy LeCleaux flipped Ricky onto his back. His hands gripped the boy's ankles, spreading those little coltish legs wide. Ricky's abused, gaping hole was put on displace for Daddy LeCleaux to leer down at. "I'm gonna fuck you good, boy," Daddy LeCleaux said, before shoving himself back inside. The thick cudgel of a man cock made poor Ricky's tummy bulge. Each thrust showed the path that Daddy LeCleaux's cock took. Ricky thrashed and moaned, begging wordlessly for release. "Not yet," Daddy LeCleaux whispered, shaking aside the sweat rolling off his body. "Not just yet, boy!" Ricky tried raising his hips up. He wanted?needed?to feel full. He wanted to feel Daddy LeCleaux fill his guts with that thick, rich sperm of his. He needed to have the man's seed back inside of him. "Please," Ricky begged helplessly as Daddy LeCleaux continued to dominate him. "Oh, please..." Daddy LeCleaux grinned. "I like the sound of that," he said, punching his hips forward again and again. "The sound of a boy begging for more. Tell me what it is you need, son?" Ricky gasped at being called `son' by the older man. "Cum, sir!" Ricky yelled, still trying to buck his lower body upward to meet each thrust. "Please cum in me, sir. Make me yours again!" It was something Ricky had learned from Daddy LeCleaux. When a man fucked a boy and came inside of him, that boy became the man's property. He was bred, and therefore marked as the man's personal cumdump. "I need to be yours, sir!" Ricky howled, feeling his insides being shifted around. "Ohhh, fuck me, sir! Please, cum in me again!" "That's it," Daddy LeCleaux encouraged, picking up speed with his thrusts. "Cum in me before you leave," Ricky whimpered. "So I know that I still belong to you, sir." "Keep going," Daddy LeCleaux grunted. "I wanna be yours, sir. I never wanna be anyone else's slut but yours!" "Oh, fuck!" Daddy LeCleaux's head flew back. "I'm cumming, boy! I'm breeding this faggot pussy and making it mine again!" "Fuck me, sir!" Ricky all but screamed. "Breeding you!" "Please!" "Making you my property." "More!" "Just a cunt hole for me to use!" "Can't stop!" "My personal faggot now!" The two reached their climax together. Ricky felt his body rock through what was, by now, the familiar sensations of an intense, enormous boygasm. Daddy LeCleaux slammed his cock deep inside, burying himself to the hilt. His balls emptied their contents inside of little Ricky, leaving him a well-used faggot boy slut covered in sweat and breathing heavily on top of Daddy LeCleaux's bed sheets. "Whew!" Daddy LeCleaux said, taking a step back, which had the added effect of freeing his cock from Ricky's hungry little boy hole with a loud `pop' sound. "Now I really do need a shower!" Without a word, Daddy LeCleaux turned and left Ricky laying there naked on his bed. Ricky felt the room spinning. He had been fucked to the point that he was no longer able to stand. And little Ricky couldn't wait to do it all over again! ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ "Again!" The cry rang out above the noise of many other boys' voices. It was lost, however, as soon as the swing succumbed to gravity. Jeramie felt his body fly backward. Cold wind whipped around his face, trying to tear at the jacket protecting his small frame. Next to him, Ricky swung forward. His own body was being flung toward the sky. As Jeramie swung back, Ricky's body sailed in an arc toward the sky. His longer legs stretched, as if reaching to touch the clear blue high above their heads. "Best...!" Ricky cried out. "Birthday...!" Jeramie chimed in when his body swung forward again. "Ever!" Ricky finished. All around them, other shouts and cries rallied with theirs. Familiar faces ran back and forth, making use of the park's playground equipment. There were anywhere from thirty to forty kids from their school. Everyone had received an invitation in the mail. Not that the parents cared. No one was watching the area to keep out gate crashers. As far as they were concerned, if someone wanted to join in, they were welcome. Jeramie and Ricky felt the same. Their only exception was Bradley Cotton, but no one had seen hide nor hair of him, much to everyone's relief?including the adults. "Ricky! Jeramie!" Both boys turned their heads simultaneously. Mrs. Baxter was calling out to them over by the picnic tables. The other adults had already gathered there. Paper plates and styrofoam cups had been laid out, all decorated with cheap balloon figures. "It's pi?ata time!" Mrs. Baxter shouted. Ricky stuck his feet out at once. Jeramie followed suite, and both boys soon brought their swings to a full stop. Dirt went flying. Quite a bit of it stuck to the leggings of their pants, but neither paid it any mind. Together, they broke into a run together and hurried across the park, leaving the playground area behind. Other kids noticed and began to follow. Soon, Ricky and Jeramie found themselves leading a stampeding mob. "All right! All right!" Mrs. Baxter called out, demanding silence?which, of course, all of the kids ignored. "You both know how this works. Be careful, though, or else..." "...you'll put an eye out," all of the kids, including Ricky and Jeramie, finished. Mrs. Baxter gave this speech every year, and it showed. Even some of the adults rolled their eyes. Others shared a knowing look behind her back as they bit their lower lips, fighting off the urge to laugh. Jeramie wore a knowing smile that he shared with his Dad as the blindfold came down. "Ready?" Mrs. Baxter called out as a stick was passed into his hands. "And... go!" The pi?ata had been done up in all of the colors of the rainbow. It was vaguely horse-shaped with long streamers for a mane and an even longer tail. Jeramie memorized the ******** before the world went dark. Soon, he felt himself being spun around. Hands grabbed at him on all sides, helping to spin him faster and faster. Silently, Jeramie counted the number of times he was turned. He reached eleven and then stopped. The final turn wasn't completed, which meant he was facing somewhere west of the direction of the pi?ata. Smiling to himself, Jeramie turned himself just a little more and raised the stick. He made sure it was high over his head. Next to him, he could hear Ricky swinging wildly, missing each time. Jeramie brought the stick down hard and felt it strike the target. "Nice one, son!" he heard Daddy call out. The game was a simple one. No one ever pointed the birthday boy directly at the pi?ata. The trick was to be facing it when the blindfold came down, and then count the number of times they were spun. Jeramie could always tell which direction he pointed at when he stopped by how far the last turn was. A halfway turn meant that he was facing the opposite direction. A full turn with a little extra meant that the pi?ata would be a little to the right. Jeramie waited, listening above the shouts of the crowd and Ricky's ever-mounting frustration. Then, he swung again. Once more, the stick struck paydirt, crashing hard into the paper toy. Unfortunately, Jeramie lacked the strength in his arms that Ricky had. "Ricky!" he called out, getting his friend's attention. "Over here. I've found it. Follow my voice and swing when I tell you to." Ricky stopped swinging wildly. Jeramie couldn't hear the `whoosh' sound anymore, which meant that Ricky had done as he asked. Nodding, Jeramie moved in a semi-circle. The blindfold meant that he stumbled a little more than once. Soon, however, he was in position. "Okay, I'm over here," he called out. "Follow the sound of my voice and swing hard!" Ricky complied at once. Unfortunately, the two whacks that Jeramie had given the pi?ata made it sway in the wind. Ricky missed his first and second tries. "Here," Jeramie said, striking home on the pi?ata with his own stick. "Hear that?" "I think I've got it," Ricky replied. "Hold on..." Ricky swung again. Jeramie heard his friend's stick strike home once, and then a second time. On the third swing, Jeramie joined in. The two felt the pi?ata give way underneath their combined blows, raining down the contents all around them. "We did it!" Ricky roared, holding his stick high up overhead in triumph. "Yeah!" Jeramie crowed, doing the same. The cheers from all around them died down. Silence filled the air, save for the cold wind shaking the leaves in the trees high overhead. Curious, Jeramie pulled the blindfold down and looked around. Ricky did the same. The boys saw that everyone, adults and kids alike, were staring down at the ground around them. Confused, Jeramie looked to see what was strange enough to make everyone fall silent. The answer became clear as day once he'd gotten a closer look. "What is all of this stuff?" he wondered. "I thought there was supposed to be candy." All of the ground surrounding them was covered in pictures. Each one held the face of a baby. Jeramie squatted in the dirt, leaving his stick off to the side, as he dug through. "They're all the same," he realized. "It's all photos of the same baby." Ricky was scowling as he investigated. "Why would anybody stuff a pi?ata full of old baby pictures?" he wondered. "Hey, a lot of these are copies of the same photos!" Turning, Ricky glared over at Mrs. Baxter. Clearly, he thought this was one of her ideas. Jeramie had to admit that it did seem like the sort of stunt she might pull in the hopes of teacher her son some kind of moral object lesson. However, a cursory glance toward her told Jeramie that was far from the truth. If anything, Mrs. Baxter looked more upset than her oldest son. She was standing a few feet away, staring down at the scattered photos as if she'd just seen a ghost. Jeramie watched as Mrs. Baxter slowly eased down into a vacant spot on the picnic table bench next to her husband. Ricky continued to scowl, but went back to picking up photos. "Hey, there's something else in here," he told Jeramie, who leaned over to get a better look. "What's this? Some kind of bracelet?" Ricky's face turned even more sour. Obviously, he balked at the idea of getting any kind of jewelry on his birthday. Jeramie, however, rode to his rescue. "It's a medical bracelet," Jeramie explained, holding it up to see better. "They give these to newborn babies in hospitals after they're born." The sour look on Ricky's face gave way to confusion. "It has my name on it," he revealed, pointing to the name tag. "Richard Daniel Baxter." "Look at this," Jeramie said, holding something up. "I found a watch in here too." Mrs. Baxter let out an audible gasp from over by the picnic table. Jeramie looked up in time to see the color drain from her face. Next to her, Mr. Baxter's expression twisted momentarily into a scowl. Their faces quickly snapped to something more neutral, though, when Ricky turned toward them. "Did somebody give you the wrong pi?ata, Mom?" "That..." Mrs. Baxter paused, clearing her throat. "Yes, that must have been it, son. I am... so sorry about that." Rather than getting mad, Ricky merely shrugged. "Well, at least we know it was an accident," he said, getting up. "I wonder how all of this stuff got inside, though." "That," Jeramie said, rising to his feet as well, "is a very good question." The crowd behind them began to stir. Whatever crisis had occurred, it was brief. The general consensus seemed to be that it was time for cake and ice cream. Guests started moving over toward the tables, grabbing cups and plates so they could load up on sugary foods. Jeramie, however, lingered behind. "Here, son," said his Dad, after making his way through the crowd. "Why don't I hold on to that watch for you? Get yourself some food." Wordlessly, Jeramie passed the watch over to his father, but he didn't leave the spot in the middle of the scattered photos. "This doesn't feel like a mistake to me, Dad," he said quietly, watching Mr. and Mrs. Baxter from around his Dad's impressive, tree-trunk legs. "I think someone wanted to send Ricky a message." "Oh?" Detective LeCleaux's voice sounded strained slightly. "Why's that?" "Because there are no photographs of me," he replied, as if it were obvious. "And the baby bracelet had Ricky's name on it. Someone wanted to send Ricky a message on his birthday, and they couldn't do it over the phone or by a letter." Detective LeCleaux went very still. "For right now, son, let it go," his Dad advised. "We'll worry more about it later when we get home, okay?" Jeramie nodded, but privately, he couldn't bring himself to obey. There was a mystery afoot at his and Ricky's birthday party. His friend could be in danger. Even if Ricky wasn't, that was no excuse not to investigate, at least in Jeramie's mind. And he knew just where to start looking! ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Ice cream was a staple of any birthday party. It might have been cold, but as far as everyone was concerned, this was irrelevant. Cake without ice cream at a birthday party simply was not done. The adults knew this, and they knew that a riot was potentially on their hands. Fortunately, salvation was literally rolling their way. The musical tones of the local ice cream truck filled the air. The sound played through the wind in the trees, turning the heads of every kid in the park. Therefore, none of the parents protested when their children came over for money. In moments, their pockets were as full as their already bloated tummies, yet that fact slowed precisely no one down. Kids charged the truck to obtain their favorite sugary treat. Ricky was, of course, counted among them. "Birthday boy privilege!" he cried out, raising his fist full of dollars high over his head. "I go first. One side, everybody!" Curiously, Ricky was alone. Jeramie had slipped away moments before, muttering something about how the ice cream truck had been by earlier while his Dad was helping to decorate for the party. Ricky paid his friend no mind. He was used to Jeramie's occasional strange behavior. For now, there was ice cream to be had! "Oh, c'mon!" Ricky growled, irritated at being made to wait in line. Despite his declaration, he was left somewhere near the back. "Hurry up!" No one seemed to care that he was the birthday boy. Well, he and Jeramie were sharing the status today. Their classmates and friends, however, had abandoned the time-honored tradition. When ice cream was at stake, there were no rules. The line moved slowly. Ricky bounced on the balls of his feet, peeked over the tops of the other kids' heads, and growled low in his throat. None of these tactics made the ice cream man work faster. He was, Ricky saw, an older man with what his mother called a salt-and-pepper beard. The ice cream man's dark skin stood out against the pale white uniform he wore. He was sweating, despite the cool March temperature. His movements were also odd?strained, as if he were in pain. His body stayed stationary behind the counter, moving away from it as little as possible. And whenever he did, Ricky noticed that he ran back to the counter fast, wearing the same forced grin. "I've definitely been around Jeramie too long," Ricky muttered to himself, rolling his eyes toward the tree branches high overhead. One by one, the ice cream man dolled out a sugary treat to each birthday party attendee. At long last, Ricky found himself nearing the counter. The trunk's generator hummed low and steady, rippling the air around it, and creating an added icy touch to the air. Ricky rubbed the sleeves of his light jacket. His insides practically quivered with anticipation. Up close, the sweat on the ice cream man was even more prominent. It rolled off his forehead as if he were standing under a summer sun. "One fudgepacker popcicle, please," Ricky said when it was at last his turn. He remembered his manners, if only in case his mother overhead. "Sure thing," the ice cream man said, letting out a slight cough as he reached under the counter. "Here you go... son." The man's voice broke ever so slightly at the end of the sentence. The strained look on his face was even more pronounced. Ricky accepted his treat and passed along the money his mother had given him. "You okay, mister?" he wondered as the ice cream man handed Ricky back his change. "I'm..." The ice cream man's voice broke again as he wiped the sheen of sweat off his brow. "I'm good, son. Just... feeling a little bit... hot today." A frown creased Ricky's forehead as he walked away. It was certainly none of his business. Jeramie was the one who always needed to know what was going on. Ricky often went along for the ride. His friend wasn't around now, though. Ricky was free to enjoy his ice cream in peace. Curiosity, however, made him turn back around. His eyes narrowed on the ice cream man, whose head was tossed back. The man's mouth lay wide open. For a moment, it looked as if he was having some kind of a fit. Ricky knew better, though. He had seen that expression before, and he knew what it meant. Something took hold of Ricky, then. He felt certain enough, but needed to be sure. In that moment, Ricky understood what so often drove his friend to stick his nose in other people's business. The coast was clear. Everyone else had already dispersed. They had their ice cream. There was no need for them to linger behind. No one else cared about what might be happening underneath the counter inside the ice cream truck. No one but Ricky, that is. Something cold and sticky rolled down onto his hand. Ricky blinked, realizing that his ice cream was melting. He took a long lick, using his pink tongue to slurp off as much of the runny chocolate as he could. "Here we go," he said around the mouthful of chocolate, and began slipping behind the truck. Ricky's feet crunched against the gravel. The parking area was full of it, so there was nothing he could do. Ricky tried walking on his tiptoes, but this only drew attention to himself. It didn't do much to silence the `crunch-crunch' sound his sneakers made, either. At last, Ricky gave up. He tried to mitigate the sound somewhat by walking more slowly. This seemed beylikdüzü travesti to help. No one paid any attention to him as he slipped around the side. The birthday boy was lucky. He discovered a back door on the ice cream truck, which was for letting the ice cream man slip in and out. Normally, it was closed, but someone had left the door cracked slightly. The engine muffled any sounds that might have been overheard. Ricky found this very convenient as he eased closer. There was no need for him to turn the knob. The entrance was cracked far enough that he could peek inside by giving it the barest of nudges. Slowly, and as silently as he could, Ricky ascended the two ****l steps. His hand was shaking as he reached for the knob. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest. For some reason, Ricky felt unnerved. There was a buzzing in the back of his brain. It normally stayed quiet. Now, though, it was roaring in his mind. He felt as if he knew something without consciously being aware of it. There was something on the other side of the door, and it meant something important. He was about to discover what it was. Without understanding why, Ricky knew that once he peeked inside, his life would forever be different. Swallowing the lump in his throat, Ricky pulled the door back and had a look. What he saw nearly stopped his heart. The ice cream man was still standing in front of the counter. The lower half of his white uniform hung down slightly off his hips. This was because the front fly was open. A cock as long as Detective LeCleaux's hung out. It was massive, even thicker than the Daddy detective who lived next door to Ricky. Blood had flooded down into the massive organ, making it swell to it's full size. It had to be at least ten inches, and was as thick as Ricky's wrist. Wrapped around the thick helmet head were a pair of lips attached to Ricky's best friend. Jeramie had stripped naked. Ricky's friend sat squat down on the dirty floor of the ice cream truck. His eyes were shut as his tongue stuck out, wrapping tightly around the head. The tip of the tongue dug deep into the exposed foreskin, lapping away hungrily at the sticky, rank scum inside. Ricky could hear Jeramie let out a deep, lustful moan. It was loud enough for Ricky to hear over the steady hum of the truck cooler. He could feel his own little boy nail harden, even as something sharp pierced his chest. Jeramie and the ice cream man remained ignorant to his presence there. Ricky watched Jeramie open his mouth wide. Slowly, the cock slid past Jeramie's lips. His friend took the hard, heavy black cock from the old man down his throat without a struggle. The ice cream man had his head thrown back again. Clearly, he was enjoying himself. His chest was heaving underneath the pale white uniform he wore, which now seemed to stretch tight over his upper torso. One hand slide down the length of his stomach. It reached the hemline of his uniform pants, adjusting them so that his cock hung out better. Ricky got a quick glimpse of a pair of plaid boxer shorts. They were the same kind his father wore, but these looked as if they hadn't been washed for several days. The smell seemed to excite Jeramie even more. Ricky watched his friend take at least half of the heavy cock down his throat. The hand reached out to seize Jeramie by the back of the head. Now, the ice cream man made a dark fist in Jeramie's honey-colored hair, using that to piston his cock in and out of the little boy's hungry throat. Jeramie moaned, while something sour formed in Ricky's stomach. He had never felt so jealous in his entire life. "Fuck," the ice cream man moaned. "You are one hungry little faggot boy, ain'cha? Is this what you're willing to do for an ice cream cone?" Ricky's face twisted in anger. His friend was just a few feet away, sucking on a strange man's cock. He was doing it for free ice cream, no less. All this time, Jeramie had been having sex with anyone who would take him. Ricky had assumed Jeramie's only sex partner was his Dad. Detective LeCleaux was more than enough cock for anyone. Ricky had barely been able to withstand the painful pleasure those ten inches gave him that first time when Detective LeCleaux bred him in his own bedroom. But Jeramie took cock no matter who it was from, apparently. And he had been trying to withhold his own Dad's cock from Ricky for months. It just wasn't fair! Meanwhile, the noises inside were becoming more audible. Jeramie held his mouth open as wide as he could. It hung open like the boy had unhinged his jaw. The ice cream man tried to keep his moans down, but Jeramie wasn't bothering with the effort. Drool rolled down the sides of his face, passing his chin to dribble down his throat and onto his chest. The ice cream man was really giving it to him now. That black cock moved in and out of Jeramie's open mouth, faster and faster. Jeramie was moaning, as if it were the best-tasting ice cream he'd ever had. His little body thrashed a little, rocking in time with the older man's thrusts. Their bodies moved together, as if they were unified. "Goddamn!" the ice cream man grunted out, loud enough for Ricky to hear, and maybe a few others nearby. "Ain't never had head like this before." Jeramie let the cock pop out of his throat. "Uuhhh, it tastes so fucking good, sir." His little fingers reached up to wrap around as much of the cock as they could, which wasn't a lot. The ice cream man sported a shlong that was too thick for those tiny digits to fully encompass. Jeramie gave the cock in front of him a squeeze nevertheless. His little pink tongue reached out and lapped hungrily at the piss slit, noisily slurping the precum drizzling down from it. "I've never had an ice cream that tastes this good," Jeramie went on, breathing fog out of his mouth all over the cock as he continued to slurp and smack his lips over it. "This tastes even better!" The ice cream man's eyes rolled up into the back of his head. "Fuuuucckkkk!" he moaned. "Kid, you can have free ice cream from now on. So long as you keep sucking on this dick, all right?" Jeramie merely nodded. His attention had gone back to the cock in front of him. Opening his mouth, he slurped the head back down into his throat?along with several more inches. Ricky stood outside watching the whole time. The ice cream man had a thick bush of wiry black hair. Little by little, Jeramie was working his lips closer and closer to it. His nostrils opened wide each time he drew closer. It was as if the smell coming from them was intoxicating. Ricky realized then that his ice cream was almost completely melted. Standing in the cracked door of the cool truck hadn't preserved it. Fuming, Ricky tossed it aside, wrapper and all, and stormed off. He left the door cracked, half-hoping that someone else might come along. It would serve Jeramie right to get caught, especially if it was Jeramie's Dad who found him. A cruel smile spread across his face at the thought. "Yeah," he said to himself, grinning big now. "Why not?" A small part of him tried to hold the thought back. Jeramie was still his friend, after all. Ricky didn't want to do anything that would truly hurt him. And, while that was true, Ricky was still very angry. His friend had been keeping so much cock to himself. Jeramie hadn't even explained the reason why to him. It was selfish, and Jeramie deserved some sort of comeuppance. "It's just not fair," Ricky reminded himself, speaking low so no one would overhear. Maybe Jeramie didn't deserve to be humiliated. Ricky could see how having everyone at the party find out would end badly. It might result in Jeramie having to leave Pembrooke Falls. That would mean Detective LeCleaux left as well, which was the last thing Ricky wanted. "Hmmm," he murmured thoughtfully, looking around. He didn't have to show everyone. No one else needed to know. And at any rate, the more people that found out, the more questions they would ask. Adults could be far too nosy for their own good, after all. Even more so than Jeramie was. There was a way, however, to have a little bit of revenge. Ricky spotted Detective LeCleaux sitting with his own mother at a picnic table. The two were talking animatedly about something. They were also keeping their voices down. Whatever the discussion was, it was clear they didn't mean to be overheard. None of that interested Ricky, however. He marched over to the picnic table intently. All Ricky needed was to get Detective LeCleaux away from his mother for a few minutes. He could explain the situation to Jeramie's Dad, who would then surely punish his son. Jeramie would be in trouble, but ideally, it wouldn't be the end of the world. That would be punishment enough. It would certainly show Jeramie that he couldn't get away with everything. "Okay," he said, feeling the nagging voice in his head recede somewhat. "Here goes!" Ricky's footsteps nevertheless felt heavy as he approached the picnic table. His mother seemed angrier now. Her eyes narrowed and she was looking at Detective LeCleaux like he had seriously made her mad. Detective LeCleaux had one held up, as though fending off an attack. Ricky empathized with the older man. He knew how furious his mother could get when things didn't go her way. "Mom?" he called out, getting both of their attentions. "I need to talk to?" Mrs. Baxter's eyes turned toward Ricky, narrow and sharp, which silenced her son at once. "What happened to your ice cream?" she demanded, zeroing in on the mess coating Ricky's hand. "Um..." Ricky stammered, struggling to regain control of himself. "I just... It melted. I wanted to talk to Jeramie's Dad... please?" Mrs. Baxter let out an exasperated sigh. "I paid good money for you to have ice cream at your party," she snapped irritably. "And you let it melt! What have you got to say for yourself, young man?" "I... sorry." Ricky's voice left him, as it often did whenever his mother was in one of her moods. "I just... I needed to tell..." "Go wash your hands this instant," she ordered him, pointing Ricky toward the nearby park restrooms. "And when you're done, see if you can find Eddie. He's wandered off on his own." Detective LeCleaux gave Ricky a sympathetic look. "We'll talk later," he said, trying to be reassuring. "Right now, I need to have a word with your Mom alone. Okay, sport?" Ricky nodded once before turning away. On the verge of tears, he walked silently across the picnic area for the restrooms, making sure to keep his face pointed toward the ground. He hated using the public restrooms. They always smelled horrible. No one ever seemed to clean them?or else, they never stayed clean for long. Ricky hurried for the nearest sink once he was inside and washed his hands, taking great care to scrub all of the chocolate from his fingers. The last thing he wanted was for his Mom to make him do it all over again. Ricky also splashed water onto his face. The cold helped snapped him out of his funk somewhat. Now clean, he hurried across the grimy floor for the exit. Ricky knew he would have to find Eddie soon, or else risk more of his mother's wrath. "So where'd he go?" Ricky muttered miserably to himself. The most likely spot was over by the playground. Eddie was a weird little brother. He often preferred to be by himself, or else hang out with just a couple of friends. Eddie never liked big crowds. He preferred to find a quiet place to read instead of running around the way Ricky always had. "Weirdo," he muttered to himself while making his way across the park. Sure enough, a lone figure sat at the base of the jungle gym. A thin book lay clutched in a pair of tiny hands. Eddie must have sneaked one of his Goosebumps books out of the house, despite their mother's orders to the contrary. For a moment, Ricky was seized by an urge to tattle. It died a quick death inside of him, however. Telling on Eddie would mean having to approach their Mom while she was still in a bad mood. The risk was far too high. "Hey, squirt." Eddie raised his head up from the book. "Oh. Hey, Ricky." His little brother didn't exactly sound enthusiastic. "I'm just reading. Please don't tell Mom." "I won't," Ricky assured him, despite having contemplated doing that very thing. "She's in a bad mood right now anyway." "Oh?" Eddie sounded concerned. "How come?" Ricky shrugged nonchalantly. "No idea," he replied. "She told me to come find you. You're missing out on the party." Eddie frowned. "There's no one there my age," he pointed out, shifting uncomfortably on the ground as he went back to his book. "I don't really have anyone to talk to." Ricky wanted to be mad, but the truth was, Eddie was right. The only reason he had come was because their parents made him. It had to be boring, being the only kid his age there. Ricky realized that Eddie could have easily invited some of his own friends. He probably hadn't, knowing how much it would bug Ricky to see a bunch of squirts Eddie's age there with his classmates. "Look," Ricky said, lowering his voice a little. "Mom didn't say I had to be back by a certain time. She seemed like she wanted to be alone with Jeramie's Dad." That got Eddie's attention. "Jeramie's Dad?" he asked, eyes widening. "What were they talking about?" "Dunno." Ricky couldn't help but notice that Eddie seemed frightened, and assumed it had something to do with Jeramie's Dad being a police detective. "Nothing important, I think. Just adult stuff. You know how Mom hates being interrupted when she's talking with someone." Eddie visibly relaxed. "Good," he said. "Sorry, I was just... worried." "You are one weird kid," Ricky muttered. If this bothered his little brother, however, Eddie gave no notice. "You're just gonna sit here and read, then?" It was Eddie's turn to shrug. He didn't answer Ricky's question, which annoyed the older brother more. Bored already, Ricky looked around for something to do. Across from the playground was a set of exercise equipment. It had been there for years, and was a little bit rusted. Mostly, the equipment was used by people who came to the park to job. They used the pull-up bar and so forth to stretch their muscles before hitting the jogging path. It had been a mystery for years as to why the city put the exercise equipment right next to the playground. Having been forced to babysit before, though, Ricky reasoned that a number of parents and older siblings left kids in the park to play while they warmed up. Today was a cold day, though, so there weren't a lot of joggers in the park. However, the exercise equipment was being used. Ricky noticed two men in their twenties. Both looked incredibly tough, like the type Detective LeCleaux might arrest at some point. One had skin that was even darker than the ice cream man's. He was wearing a pair of sweat pants that bagged up around his lower legs. The upper half were quite tight on him, though, enough that Ricky thought he saw the outline of the man's cock in the front. A thin muscle shirt, torn in places, clung to his chest, doing little to hide the thick hair there. The other man was latino. He had come shirtless despite the cold, and his upper body was covered in tattoos. He was the type that Ricky's mother would have crossed the street to avoid. His lower half was covered by a pair of basketball shorts. They were riding low on his hips, enough to expose a pair of tight briefs underneath. An idea started to form in Ricky's head, then. If he couldn't tell on Jeramie, then showing him up seemed like the next best thing. He had taken Jeramie's Dad several times now. These two looked like they might be about the same size. The black man definitely was, at least. And wouldn't it be great to see the look on Jeramie's face when Ricky told him he'd been fucked by two big cocks belonging to total strangers at the same time! "I'll be over there," Ricky told Eddie, who didn't bother looking up from his book. "Talking with those guys. Wait here." Ricky wasn't quite sure how to handle the situation. Jeramie had more experience with older men, much to his best friend's chagrin. Ricky figured it wasn't terribly complicated, though. He'd managed to seduce Detective LeCleaux, after all. If Jeramie could do it, how hard could it be? Ricky could feel his confidence wane, however, the closer he came to the exercise area. The two men were coated in sweat. Their muscles bulged out, swollen from working so hard. Gulping, Ricky spoke. "Hey!" Neither man spared Ricky more than a glance. Their eyes, both dark brown, were hardened with a ferocity that sent shivers through Ricky's body. He trembled, despite them paying him no more mind. Ricky felt the words in his throat fail him. They fell back down into the pit of his stomach, which was now full of butterflies. Sweat began to pour out of his palms, making them clammy. In that moment, Ricky realized he had no idea what to do. Therefore, he took the direct approach. "Hey," he said more softly, moving close enough to the black man so that he would hear. "Do you want me to suck your cock?" The black guy went very still. He'd been in the midst of a pull-up on the high bar when Ricky spoke. Those dark, fierce eyes widened in shock. "The hell?" he asked, staring Ricky down like he was an ant. "You shittin' me?" "What?" asked his friend, the latino male with the tattoos. "I'll suck both of you," Ricky went on, loud enough this time that each could hear him clearly. "For free. And..." He managed to swallow the lump in his throat before continuing. "You can both fuck me too, if you want." Their eyes met again. "Shit, we ain't into that," the latino said. Ricky noticed, though, that the tattooed man was getting hard. A noticeable lump was forming in the front of his basketball shorts. The same thing was happening in the black man's sweats. He hadn't worn underwear, so the outline of his cock was now visible. Ricky could see it plain as day. "You're hard," he stated. "I think that means you're `into' it just fine." The black man looked mad now. "You some kind of a narc?" he asked, to which Ricky's face frowned in confusion. "You work for a cop, boy?" Ricky shook his head quickly. "I just want to have... to fuck," he replied quickly. "You two look like you're big enough." The compliment did the trick, even though Ricky hadn't planned it. Both men burst out laughing. The tattooed latino was practically doubled over. "You think so, huh?" The black man gave the front of his sweats a squeeze, which helped outline the length and girth of his meat even more. "Like the look of that, do ya?" "Yes, sir." Ricky kept his tone very polite so that neither would get mad. "I like big cock, and I've never had one like yours before. Either of you." They both quickly picked up on little Ricky's meaning. "I think he's cruising for some dark meat, bro." The latino was grinning big the whole time he spoke. "Whatdaya think?" Ricky stood in the same spot, waiting politely. The black man?he hadn't asked either for their names?appeared to be considering it. His eyes wandered back and forth across the park. It looked like he was searching for something, maybe checking to be sure no one was watching. Little Ricky recognized that look. He had worn it many times in the past. It was the sort of look someone got when they were about to do something fun, something they shouldn't, and were making sure they wouldn't get caught. It made his heartbeat race. He was actually going to get to taste two cocks at the same time, and maybe even be fucked by them. "There ain't nowhere we can go, though," the black man pointed out at long last. "Not here. An' we ain't got no ride." "We can call somebody," the tattooed latino pointed out quickly. "An' tell `em what?" his friend responded with, pointing directly at Ricky. "How we gonna explain that, huh?" Again, Ricky hadn't thought that far ahead, and his mind began to race for a solution. "There's a bathroom not far from here," he told them. "Or..." The idea died as quickly as it had formed. His mother was too close to the restrooms. So was Jeramie's Dad, and all of the party guests, for that matter. It was too big of a risk. The men would probably take off once they saw how crowded it was. Thinking fast, Ricky turned back toward the playground area. Eddie was still over by the jungle gym, sitting quietly while thumbing through his Goosebumps book. There was a spot further back from where Eddie sat, however. At the very edge of the playground over by one of the walking trails, there was a small playhouse. It was plastic, and looked as though it had once been colored white, red, and blue. Time and exposure had muted the colors. There were leaves and pine straw on the rooftop. Quite a few vines had grown up along the side. It didn't look as though anyone had been inside the plastic playhouse in some time. Ricky, of course, immediately balked at the thought of going in there. However, as the idea took shape, it grew more and more appealing to him. No one would think to look for him in there. The plastic house practically looked abandoned. They would have privacy, and if Ricky was lucky, Eddie wouldn't bother them. "Over there," he said, pointing. "That old plastic house is abandoned. Nobody ever uses it anymore. And I doubt anybody would bother us if we went inside." The tattooed latino scoffed. "That piece a' shit?" he challenged. "Thing looks like it could come apart from a good sneeze." "Brothers can't be choosers," the black man replied, thinking hard. "He right, though. Ain't nobody gonna suspect us a' going in there." Ricky's face perked up hopefully. "So you'll do it?" he asked, sounding a wee bit more eager than he'd meant to. "I mean... uh, please?" The two men shared a look with one another again. "Sure, why not?" said the black man. "Ain't like we got anything else going on today." "Great!" Ricky said, grinning from ear to ear. He took point, guiding both men in a circle around the playground area. The idea was for them to avoid Eddie at all cost. Fortunately, Ricky's little brother still had his nose stuck in the book he was reading. It didn't look like he would be finished for a while, either. That suited Ricky just fine. He would have both hunky, sweaty, muscular men to himself. They had the whole afternoon to do stuff together. Then, Ricky could tell Jeramie all about how he had sex with two men at the same time. That would put Jeramie in his place for sure! "Fuck, I'm horny," one of the men behind him uttered as they rounded the playground. "Shit," the other swore angrily. "Didn't think this would actually get me worked up so damn much!" Ricky stole a glance. Sure enough, the tattooed latino was squeezing himself through the shorts he wore. They hung loose around him, but he was sporting enough of a hardon for it to be obvious. His friend was having the same issue. The imprint on those sweat pants was filling up. Ricky swallowed a lump in his throat once he realized the imprint didn't do the man justice. He was even larger than the sweats seemed to imply. Nevertheless, Ricky forced himself to keep going. He had to do this. It was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. They were alone and soon he would be naked and sweaty between these two sex gods. Fuck Jeramie for keeping secrets from him! "Here we go," Ricky said once they stood outside the plastic house. "Lemme check inside real quick. Just to make sure." Ricky didn't voice it out loud, but he was looking inside for more than just that. The last thing he wanted was to step inside and there be a snake nesting in a corner. It could also have rats or even an angry raccoon. Pembrooke Falls Elementary had a house similar to this on the playground once upon a time, but eventually got rid of it for similar reasons. Therefore, Ricky knew to peek inside before going in. Fortunately, the inside of the plastic playhouse wasn't so bad. There were toys lying around, left behind by careless children. A lone table that came up maybe two feet off the ground had been pushed to the side. The floor was dirty too. Overall, it wasn't great, but this was hardly the worst place. "It'll be tight," Ricky said, pulling his head back out. "But we can all fit." The black man grinned. "Sounds good," he said, reaching one big hand into the front of his sweats to stroke the huge meat log between his legs. "Last chance to back out, kid." "Yeah," his friend added, sporting the same kind of knowing smirk as he rubbed the outside of his shorts. "You might've bitten off more `n' you can chew." "I can do this," Ricky insisted, summoning up his courage. "Do what?" The question pierced the air like a sharp blade. Ricky tilted his head and looked past the two men. Behind them stood Eddie, still holding his precious book. A carnival was in the background of the cover, while the foreground showed a monster peeking up over a road sign pointing people to a place called `Horrorland'. Ricky let out a moan. "Nothing," he snapped angrily. "Just go back and read. I don't have time istanbul travesti to babysit right now." Eddie looked slightly hurt, but turned his head upward when the black man looked down at him. "You'd best do as your brother says," the man advised. "Yeah," his tattooed friend added. "This is a big boy thing." "I'm a big boy," Eddie retorted automatically. The two men chuckled together softly. Ricky, meanwhile, was clenching his hands into fists. He couldn't believe the bad luck. It was his birthday. He was about to have sex with two men at the same time, and then Eddie had to spoil everything by showing up. "Go back and read," he ordered as the anger flowed freely into his voice. "That's all you do anyhow. Just find somewhere to sit and keep reading. And leave us alone!" "Lemme handle this, kid," the black man said in a calm voice, giving Ricky a quick look before turning back toward Eddie. "We're just gonna have some fun with your brother." "Right," the tattooed latino chimed in. "You might not like it." "Doing what?" Eddie asked, ever the curious child. Ricky clenched his teeth together as he smacked his forehead in futile frustration. "Just... go away!" he hissed. "This," the black man answered calmly. Before Ricky could stop his new friend, or even think about what to do, the black man took action. Seizing hold of the top of his sweats, the black man yanked them down. A sharp, cold gust of wind came billowing through, shaking leaves off the trees around them. The wind took hold of the thick chocolate cock as it sprang free, making it swing back and forth. A string of precum was snatched up as well. It felt past Eddie's face, missing the boy by inches, but leaving behind the unmistakable fragrance of aroused male tickling his nostrils. The tattooed latino followed suit. His shorts sank down to the knees, revealing a heavy pair of low-hangers beneath a cock that was at least as thick as Ricky's wrist. Several droplets of precum drizzled out. The wind died down enough that they were only thrown a little off course. All of the droplets splattered to the ground. "Whoa!" Ricky breathed out. He expected for Eddie to be shocked. Ricky himself was shocked. The sight of such impressive rods just a few short feet from him made his knees weak. Ricky could feel his mouth salivate. He wanted to touch both of them so very badly, bad enough that his fists opened and his fingers flexed. "Can I touch them?" Eddie asked politely. The question stunned Ricky bad enough that he didn't try to stop Eddie when his little brother reached out with both hands. The Goosebumps book fell to the ground, gaining a coat of dirt on the front cover. It lay there, forgotten, as Eddie's fingers made contact with the sweaty silk wrapped in solid steel. Both men let out a long sigh that quickly turned into a deep groan. Eddie's hands were too small to wrap all the way around either of their manhoods. However, the little brother moved his fingers back and forth with expert ease. He stroked both of their cocks like he had been doing so for some time. The whole time, Eddie licked his lower lip hungrily. The little pink tongue ran back and forth, as if eager to taste what was in front of him. Ricky stared, unable to process what he was seeing. "What?" he stammered out. "Where'd... how did you... when did...?" Eddie looked up at the two men, ignoring Ricky entirely. "Were you going to have sex?" he asked plainly. "I'd like to play too. I've had sex before." The two men stared. Their eyes bulged out of each set of sockets. Ricky's jaw fell down, almost hitting his chest. He was too shocked to think. "For real?" the tattooed latino asked. Eddie nodded. "More than once," he let slip. "It felt great. I could probably have sex with both of you, one after the other, if you'll let me." "You're crazy." The black man looked slightly panicked, as did Ricky. "Man, this shit can't be real." "Hey, his older brother was down for it," the tattooed latino pointed out, panting as Eddie picked up speed. "Might as well see if both are sluts." "No fair!" Even Ricky was caught off-guard by how whiny his voice sounded, but that wasn't enough to stop him. "I was here first." Eddie frowned, but started to take his hand away. Ricky's brief tantrum was enough to get him to back off. It was his older brother's birthday, after all. "I dunno," the black man reasoned, as the thought of fucking an even younger slut grew more appealing to him. "We might oughta... try him out first." "He's younger," the tattooed latino agreed, picking up on his friend's cue. "If he can take both of us, you'll have no trouble doin' the same." Ricky started to argue, but the men had already begun stripping out of what few clothes they had on. In the blink of an eye, they were naked. Eddie giggled as he was lifted up into the air by the tattooed latino. In a few quick moves, they had Ricky's little brother naked as well. To his shock, Ricky found himself being shoved aside. A pile of clothes landed in his arms. All three disappeared into the plastic playhouse. Ricky watched, feeling stunned and helpless, as the door swung shut behind them. In moments, the playhouse was rocking back and forth. ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Jeramie let out a loud belch. "Ugh, excuse me," he said, even though there was no one nearby. Pumping?or sucking, rather?the ice cream man for information hadn't proved as fruitful as Jeramie hoped. He did get a free sundae cone for his trouble. It had been delicious, too. Jeramie's favorite part was the chocolate coating and salty nuts on top. However, the ice cream man hadn't seen anyone suspicious during the party. He was busy working in the back and hadn't brought his truck back around to the picnic area. After a bit of prodding, though, and draining his balls a second time, he did recall one interesting thing. A customer had shown up before the party started. The man was in his thirties, and had been carrying a pi?ata. He'd bought an ice cream?a fudgepacker popcicle, in fact, which was Ricky's favorite. The ice cream man didn't remember what the pi?ata looked like, though. He hadn't given it much attention. Birthday parties in the park were a common enough thing. Nevertheless, it was a lead. If someone had shown up early, they might have switched out the two pi?atas while the adults were busy. It was easy enough. Jeramie could have done it if he had felt so inclined. The ice cream man had told him he'd last seen the suspicious customer heading for the restroom. This had been a little while ago, not long after Jeramie and Ricky broke the pi?ata open. It was a long shot, but Jeramie kept his toes crossed as he made his way toward the restrooms. Hopefully, the suspicious character would still be there. It struck Jeramie as odd that someone would go to this much trouble to play a prank. Then again, he reasoned, he had been a classmate of Bradley Cotton for years. The inside of the restroom smelled foul. Ricky always hated using them, Jeramie recalled, for this reason. Slowly, he pushed the heavy wooden door open and stepped inside. It closed with a soft `thud', leaving him alone in the dim light. His sneakers crunched slightly with each step. The tile floors were so filthy that enough dirt and grime had built up to form a film. It sounded an awful lot like gravel. Jeramie tuned the noise out and checked the row of sinks. There was no one there, young or old, much less anyone that looked suspicious. None of them had been washed either, and the walls around them had rude graffiti scribbled all over. These restrooms weren't very big. The only other place left to look was in the stalls. Jeramie peeked inside of each one. All but one had been left open, but a quick push showed that it wasn't locked. There was no one in this stall either. Sighing, Jeramie decided to take a piss break, as Ricky called it when his mother wasn't within earshot. Unzipping, he hauled out his still ten-year old cock and aimed for the center of the toilet, just as Daddy had taught him. His piss was flowing freely when the restroom door opened. Jeramie went still, listening closely while his stream tapered off. A set of footfalls crunched across the floor. They paused close to Jeramie's stall and waited a moment. Feeling his heart beat pound in his chest, Jeramie waited. The door to the stall next to his opened. A set of boots stopped in front of the toilet there. Jeramie could see inside of the stall thanks to a hole that had been cut in the barrier between them. It was a gloryhole. He had used one last October to get information from people in the park. With a jolt, Jeramie realized this was the same stall. Graffiti had been added since then. Arrows pointed toward the hole, which contained instructions for what to do. Jeramie was no stranger to this, though. He knew exactly what was expected of him. Kneeling down, he tapped one foot on the dirty floor to get the attention of the other stall's occupant. After a moment, the man in the next stall turned. Jeramie ran two fingers along the lower half of the circle. He didn't have to wait long. A cock slid through, big as a mule and already leaking precum from the piss slit. Jeramie was hit by the funky smell of head cheese stuck to the covered helmet. This was the second uncircumcised cock he would suck today. For a moment, the room spun as his nostrils flared. The stench of an unwashed cock was so intoxicating. "You're just a kid," said the man in the next stall. "Aren't you?" "Yes, sir," Jeramie replied as he began stroking the thick man meat in front of him. "I'm good at this, though." "Mmm, I can tell," the stranger replied. "You've got a great touch. I don't suppose you're here for that party outside." "I might be," Jeramie said evasively. He was the one who was supposed to ask questions. To get things back on track, Jeramie stuck his tongue out. The first taste of that sticky, rich scum underneath the protective skin covering the head hit him like a pint of vodka. Jeramie moaned, and immediately sucked the head into his mouth. He couldn't help himself. The man's funk and scum tasted too good! "Damn, you're a slutty little fag boy," the man in the other stall groaned. "Aren't you?" Jeramie nodded and moaned in affirmation. His hands continued to stroke the mule-sized cock in front of him. He could feel his stomach churn, hungry to have this stranger's load inside of him. "I have a son at that party," the man grunted out. This information surprised Jeramie, but not enough to get him to stop. On the contrary, he sucked harder in the hopes that it would coax more from the man on the other side of the wall. "He'd be about your age now," the man whispered. "Fuck, he's such a cute kid. I know it's wrong, but I've wondered..." Jeramie jerked the cock while working more of it down his throat. He could hear the man breathing fast. Words came in a rush. It didn't look as if this guy would last very long. Judging by his thrusts, it had been a while. "My boy should be the one here right now," the man gasped. "It's been so many years. Everybody keeps such a close eye on me. But I know my son... Oh fuck!" Jeramie used his tongue to lap at the underside of the cock in his throat. It tasted incredible, and the smell was even stronger the closer he got to the man's pubes. Those thick, wiry hairs had dried flakes of man cum stuck to them. Drool flowed freely down the sides of Jeramie's mouth. He couldn't wait to run his tongue through that mess of scum and hair. He wanted to taste all of it! "Can't be there for him," the man cried out. It sounded as if he was actually in tears. "My boy's growing up, and I can't be there." Jeramie sucked faster, still stroking the mule cock before him. It felt like he was ready to cum soon. Jeramie could see that the heavy balls hanging below it had begun drawing up. He could sense that the man would soon be blowing his load down into his tiny throat. "My boy!" the man gasped. "Fuck, suck my cock, son!" Jeramie was all too happy to oblige. In the back of his mind, he wondered which one of the party goers was this man's child. There were a lot of guests, too many for him to narrow down with so little information. Once he'd made the man cum, though, Jeramie would ask. "Fuck, son!" the man in the next stall cried out. "Take that load! Take the load that made you! I wanna fill you up just like I filled up your mother's cunt all those years ago!" The man was slamming hard against the stall. His hips thrust forward, pounding into the hole. It made both of their stalls shake. The sound filled the entire restroom. Jeramie could hear it all around him as his nose reached the end of the cock. He was deep throating all of the stranger's mule cock. He could smell the thick, ripe musk coming from the hairy bush at the base. "Fuck, I'm cumming!" the stranger howled. "I'm coming, son! I'm coming down your throat, R??" Jeramie's eyes flew open. He was sure that he had heard wrong. "FUCK!" he heard the stranger scream. A second later, Jeramie was being flooded by what felt like a quart of cum. It exploded out of the cock in his throat and right down into the eleven-year old's tummy. Jeramie gulped as fast as he could so that he wouldn't drown. The man kept right on cumming. His balls seemed to have an endless supply. And with each fresh rope that he shot, the stranger cried out the same name again and again. It left no doubt in Jeramie's mind. As he drained the massive load from those low-hangers, Jeramie thought about what he had learned. Their voices didn't match. The boots were all wrong. And what little he had seen through the gloryhole suggested it wasn't the same person. Either the man was lying... ...or Jeramie had just given head to his best friend's father. ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ Ricky watched the plastic house as it shook. He had been sitting a few feet away for a while now. Both men had gone inside with Eddie, his little brother. They were naked inside. No, they were fucking the living daylights out of his kid brother. And judging by the sounds Eddie was making, he enjoyed every single second of it. "Fuck, kid!" "Shit, can't hold back!" "Never had a pussy this tight!" "Goddamn!" "Little faggot is so fucking eager!" "Can't believe we lucked out like this!" Each time one of the men shouted out something filthy, Eddie would squeal in delight. Ricky listened close while Eddie's moans and puppy-like yips grew louder. Because of the way that the plastic house had been designed, it was hard for him to see what was actually going on. Every so often, though, an arm would pop out through one of the small windows. Ricky caught glimpse of one of the men, naked and coated with a fresh layer of sweat. Their bodies would move as if caught in some kind of primal rhythm. It showed in the violent way that the playhouse rocked. Then, the unthinkable happened. "Fuck me!" Eddie must have spat out the cock that had been lodged into his throat. The part that shocked Ricky most, however, was the language. Eddie never swore. He was a good boy, something their mother reminded both of them of constantly. Ricky was the one who knew all of the `cool' swear words. It had been shocking enough to hear language like that from his best friend. Hearing it come from his little brother's mouth put Ricky into a tailspin. It felt as if the ground itself had dropped out from underneath him. Ricky was left floating in space while, just a few short feet away, the two muscular thugs continued to pound away at Eddie from both ends. "Fuck me harder!" "Rape my faggot boypussy!" "I need real cock inside of me!" "Never stop!" "I can't live without hard cock like this!" Tears began to flow from Ricky's eyes. Eddie was such a sweet, innocent boy. He'd always been the one who needed taking care of. That was what Ricky had been brought up to believe, at least. He couldn't imagine how Eddie knew so many dirty things to say. Ricky guessed that he must have read them in a book somewhere. There was still the lingering question of where he had gotten it, though. Of course, there was also the more pressing question of where Eddie had learned about sex to begin with. Ricky could practically hear his mother scolding him for having his priorities wrong. It would have been funny if Eddie weren't howling inside the plastic house right then, demanding that the two studs rape his faggot boycunt harder. Impossibly, the house rocked even harder. It looked like some of the pieces were beginning to come loose. Ricky stood up, still holding the bundle of clothes that had been carelessly passed off to him. Slowly, he put one foot in front of the other, until he was standing in front of the door. Ricky reached out and pulled, but the door didn't move. The rest of the house rocked hard suddenly, and Eddie let out a scream that might have been born of pain. Ricky's theory was proven incorrect, though, when Eddie followed it up with something extremely graphic. "Put them both in me, please!" Eddie begged. "I need both cocks in my faggot cunt!" Ricky's jaw dropped for the second time that day. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. The fact that both men were using his little brother to get off seemed preposterous enough. Eddie couldn't possibly take two dicks in one hole at the same time, though. It was something even Jeramie hadn't done. Or, had he? Ricky grabbed hold of the door again, but it was no use. The two studs had locked it from the other side. It must have had one of those plastic latches that slid down in front of the knob on the other side. "Let him go!" he yelled, banging a fist on the other side helplessly. "He's just a little kid!" No one answered. The moans inside were growing louder, though. It sounded as if the two studs were rearranging things. Neither of them let up with the pounding they were giving his little brother, though. A sick feeling formed in the pit of Ricky's stomach. It felt like he had an iron weight inside of him. The bundle of clothes fell to the ground at his feet. Ricky turned and ran to the side of the plastic house. One of the windows was open slightly, and he could see inside. The tattooed man had stretched out onto the floor. Eddie was straddled on top of him, bouncing up and down on a cock that looked big enough to be a policeman's billy club. It was so big that Ricky could see the stud's cock moving inside of Eddie's little tummy. The black man had moved behind him. His ass was practically pressed up against the door. That was, Ricky realized, the real reason why the door wouldn't open. They were all moving in tandem now. Ricky stood outside in the cool air, shivering from the wind and the trail of tears on his face, as the black man moved up behind Eddie. Eddie raised himself up and waited. Then, slowly, the black man thrust forward. "Mmmmmm!" Eddie squealed, his face contorting in pain. "Fuck!" the tattooed latino man underneath his brother moaned. "Shit, yeah!" the black man echoed as his hips started to move. Eddie started thrashing. Both men held him in place, but it was not enough. At first, Ricky thought that Eddie was trying to get free. He had one leg up on the plastic window sill when something happened. Eddie opened his mouth and screamed. "MORE!" he howled, loud enough to shake the leaves in the trees outside. "Please, more!" Ricky took an involuntary step back. His leg fell off the sill, landing with a `crunch' in the dirt. He couldn't believe what was happening. Both men were mercilessly driving their steel rods up inside of his little brother as hard and as fast as they could. In spite of this abuse, Eddie begged for more. "Harder!" he screamed. "Harder!" "Please, HARDER!" The plastic playhouse rocked back and forth again. Their timed thrusts were doing real damage to it. Pieces began to shake off. Ricky watched as the shutters came crashing to the ground, one after the other. The door in front rattled right off of it's hinges. Plastic shingles rained down. The walls began to break apart. Throughout it all, Eddie's screams rang louder and louder. He begged to be fucked. He needed their cocks inside of him. He wanted to have both cocks fill him up with their cum. Ricky's face turned pale as he watched through the remains of the window. Both men came at the same time. Their thrusts started to slow. He saw their faces screw up from the simultaneous release. Eddie kept right on bouncing on both of their hard dicks, even as they bred him raw with their seed. "PLEASE!" his little brother screamed, letting loose with a primal howl as the last boygasm shook his tiny body thoroughly. "PLEASE, MORE!" With one last roar, the house came crashing down around them. All three were left buried under a pile of plastic. Ricky stared, uncertain of what to do. His body shook slightly from the shock. His little brother had taken two huge cocks at the same time, and was bred hard enough that it broke the playhouse. As he stared, the pieces started to move. The black man emerged first, looking wide-eyed and a little dazed. The tattooed man followed suit. Both were naked and still hard. Their cocks had slime and the juices from Eddie's abused boycunt all over them. It might have made Ricky aroused, but he was too horrified to do more than stare. "Shit, we gotta go," the black man said. "Get my shorts," the latino said, pulling himself the rest of the way out of the wreckage. "Hell, the cops 'll probably be here any minute now!" No police ever came, though. The men dressed quickly and were gone in moments. Ricky watched them go, still standing beside the trashed playhouse. Inside, he could hear Eddie beginning to stir. "Ricky?" his little brother's sweet voice called out wearily. Ricky rushed forward. His hands seized hold of a big piece of plastic wall and hefted it up. It took several tries, but he managed. Once it was out of the way, he pushed another big slab back. This revealed Eddie, lying face-down on what might have once been the plastic table. He was naked and coated in a sheen of sweat. Both of his eyes fluttered, like he was half asleep. His hole was gaping open, looking red and angry. From out of it, a river of hot cum flowed. "D'you think..." Eddie croaked out as Ricky struggled to retrieve him. "...they can do it again?" ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ ~*~ It had been a long afternoon and a long birthday party. At last, the decorations were taken down. The presents were packed up. All of the children were escorted home safely, either by their own parents or through volunteers. The picnic area of the park lay bare and eerily quiet in the wake of the celebration. Jeramie noticed the strained look on Mrs. Baxter's face. It was a look that was oddly similar to the one his best friend wore. Ricky had been in a foul mood for the rest of the afternoon. He wouldn't tell Jeramie what was wrong, either. Nevertheless, Ricky had kept a close watch over Eddie. He did this without being ordered to by anyone. Eddie, for his part, moved gingerly?like he had hurt himself. Jeramie recognized the walk, and knew what it meant. He wanted to know more, but decided to wait until later. "I've got something to tell you," he whispered before they were loaded into their parents' cars. "But I have to talk to my Dad first." Ricky looked confused for a moment. "Wait," he said as something dawned on him. "Is this about... that thing?" "Um..." Jeramie looked embarrassed. "Actually, I'd been planning to ask Dad about that. It was going to be your birthday present. That's why I wanted to wait for so long." The color drained out of Ricky's face a little. "You... were?" "Of course." Jeramie smiled. "You're my best friend. I just wanted it to be special." Ricky bit his lower lip. "Oh... okay, I guess." He looked more miserable than Jeramie had ever seen before. "But," he went on carefully, "I have to talk to my Dad first about something else. It might be tomorrow, or even your actual birthday..." "It's fine," Ricky interrupted. "I... it can wait." Ricky climbed into his parents' car before Jeramie could say anything else. Eddie was sitting in the backseat behind his father. He looked tired, as if he'd been doing something strenuous, and it had taken the wind out of him. "Is your brother okay?" Jeramie asked knowingly. Ricky turned and stared at Eddie for a long time. "I don't know," his best friend admitted. "I... really don't know." Soon, the Baxters were ready to go. Jeramie watched their car pull out of the park. He stood for a moment there silently, thinking hard about what he had learned. Eventually, Jeramie turned around and walked over to his father's vehicle. Daddy was already waiting inside for him. "Hey, son." "Mmm," said Jeramie in a noncommittal way as he buckled himself in. "Have a good birthday?" Jeramie settled into his seat before answering. "I found out something today," he said, turning toward his Dad. "Have you known this whole time that Mr. Baxter isn't Ricky's real dad?" Detective LeCleaux had been about to shift the car into reverse. At his son's question, he froze. The hand on the gear shift lingered there for a long moment. "I think..." Detective LeCleaux said slowly. "We should talk when we get home, son."