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From: Daemon Way <daemonway@yahoo.ca>
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Subject: {ASSM} ST: "Teacher Part 13" (M/b, nonconsentual, bestiality, felching, incest)
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Date: Wed, 07 Sep 2005 00:10:01 -0400
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Part 13

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<1st attachment, "Teacher13.doc" begin>

TEACHER - PART THIRTEEN

By Daemon Way
<a href="mailto:daemonway@yahoo.ca">
daemonway@yahoo.ca</a>

Bob Moser glanced at his watch.  Six-twenty-five.  Julius Gilles
would be there in five minutes.  The man was as regular as
clockwork.  He began heading for the dense bush on the edge of
the park that hid the freeway on the other side and helped to
block out the noise.  It had been kept largely in its natural
state to dissuade park users from using it in order to maintain
the bush as a natural boundary. 

"Hey, Mister Moser!"

The groundskeeper turned at the sound of the familiar voice and
his lips curled into a smile as the lean, darkly handsome
teenager flipped up his skateboard and ran over to join him. 
"Hey Lane my man, how gozit?" he asked, giving the
thirteen-year-old a high five.

"Kewel.  An' you?"

"Same.  Great to see you."  Of the many things he missed about
his former life, one of the things he missed the most was the
spark and life of his teenage students and being a part of that
vibrancy.

"You too."  Bob Moser's students missed him as much as he missed
them, and those who hadn't frequented Riverside Westbank Park
before did so now in the hopes of running into him just to say
hi, or to talk, about their lives, about things that were
bothering them.  Bob Moser was one of those rare adults who
listened, and who cared.

"So, how'd the big game with Saint Pat's go on Saturday?"

"Fu-freaking wicked," Lane responded, catching himself before he
swore.  With an adult as cool as Bob Moser it was easy to slip
into one's usual teenage vernacular even if the former teacher
and coach was pushing sixty.  "It was neck and neck all the way
through the game, first Saint Pat's leading and then Glencoe.  It
was awesome, but we won, by one point!"

"Sounds great. Wish I'd been there to see it."  Though the court
case had exonerated him, Bob knew there were still suspicions and
rumours, and that his presence would not be wanted by certain
individuals, powerful individuals.  He glanced at his watch. 
Julius Giles would be there in three minutes.  "Bet that made
your brother happy."

"Spence ain't team captain no more."

"He isn't?"

"No.  The new coach replaced him with his son."

"He did?" Bob asked in surprise.  "I can't believe Will Granger
would do such a thing."

"Mister Granger didn't get the coaching job," Lane said
dejectedly.  Will Granger, another popular teacher, had stepped
in to coach the team when Bob had been suspended and the team had
hoped he'd continue when Bob was dismissed even though he was
already coaching Glencoe's swim team. 

"He didn't?  Then who got the job?"

"Julian's father.  Julius Gilles.  Or as everyone calls him,
Goosey Gilles," Lane replied bitterly.  "Word is he sucked up big
time to the Chairman of the Board, and made a huge donation."

Bob Moser was aware of his former fellow teacher's nickname,
being in touch with the youth he taught and coached, just as he
was aware of their nickname for him, Moose.  Unlike the name used
for Gilles, who did walk and act like a goose and whose name was
derogatory, his was a name spoken with reverence and respect.  He
had actually gotten it from a close buddy and fellow teammate
back when he was a high school soccer player from his method of
playing soccer, and of course in reference to his size, which
back then was six-foot-two and close to two-hundred pounds, fifty
pounds lighter than he was now, age and a weakness for the good
things in life having resulted in a noticeable beer gut.  Somehow
his students had found out about the name and had naturally
adopted it and passed it on to upcoming grades.  He glanced at
his watch again.  Two minutes.

"Well, hey I gotta go."

The boy was lying.  Bob could see it in his eyes, and in his
voice.  Teenage boys were not good liars, and he'd been a teacher
and around them far to long not to know when they were telling
the truth and when they were not.  "Hey, no, that's all right."

"No, really.  You got work to do."

"No, I'm off work," Bob replied.  Of course the boy had to have
noticed him glancing at his watch and had to think he didn't have
time or wasn't interested in talking to him.  Bob frowned.  Hell,
six months ago he'd never have been so inconsiderate.  "How's
Spence feel about Julian replacing him?"

"Pissed off.  Julian's a great player and got the smarts when it
comes to the game, but he's a bit of a snob and got an ego that's
a pain in the ass and he's no way as good as Spence.  Sides,
everyone knows there's only one reason he got the position."

"And the rest of the team?"

"They feel same," Lane replied with a shrug.  "It's Gilles that
everyone totally hates though.  The man's way too strict and a
sarcastic son of a bitch besides.  Sorry for my language, but he
really is.  Like there's totally no talking or kidding around
during practice like you allowed.  If a guy puts another in a
headlock or something just for fun, it's two dozen pushups.  If a
guy makes a poor pass he says the guy kicks like a girl, or if
the goalie misses blocking he asks if he's afraid of the wittle
ball, stuff like that.  We really wish you were back.  Things
just ain't the same."

Bob looked at the boy, and then over at the bushes.  "Come with
me.  I have something to show you."  Bob turned and ducking down
low, pushed his way into the thick bush without giving his
decision a second thought.  If nothing else it would lift Lane's
morale.  Surprised and perplexed, Lane followed him.  Crouching
down in the tall grass and dense shrubbery, Bob smiled.  Today
the German Shepard was there.  Lane was really going to see a
show.

As he crouched there waiting, Bob thought back on his life, the
last ten months anyway, something he'd been doing frequently and
with growing bitterness and anger.  Life takes mysterious turns.
Last December he was on the top of the world, highly successful
as a junior high teacher, respected by his peers and loved by his
students, a beloved high school soccer coach, and a trusted cub
scout leader.  Then one day he spotted a backpack in the Baptist
church parking lot and brought it in with him, thinking that one
of his cub scouts had left it outside.  Seeing him coming in with
the backpack, Reverend Winthrop took it upon himself to check out
the contents while Bob was in the basement of the church hall
with his cub pack.  Discovering a bag of pot and a copy of The
Village Voice, the pastor immediately contacted the police and
turned over his evidence.  Envious of Bob's popularity and the
way the youth looked to him for moral guidance instead of
himself, and suspicious of the motives of the man who took such
delight in being with young boys and whom he considered an aging
hippy and flower child from the way he kept his long,
grey-streaked dirty brown hair in a ponytail and from his casual
dress, the evidence proved his suspicions beyond a doubt.  He
also saw it as an excellent way to get into the limelight and
promote his own righteousness and moral agenda.

The Royal Glencoe Academy for Boys Board of Trustees immediately
suspended his teaching contract and removed him from his position
as the school's soccer coach, and the Regional Council of Scouts
America temporarily dismissed him as the Riverside Westbank Cub
Scout Leader.  The Reverend's accusation of immoral behaviour and
the official charges of selling pot to the cub scouts,
counselling them to perform indecent acts, and molesting them
during their overnight outings didn't hold up in court but by the
time they had the hearing the school year was almost over.

The Board of Trustees terminated his contract, stating bluntly
and simply that the controversy had hurt the Academy and several
parents had threatened to withdraw their children if they kept
him on staff.  Of course they didn't want him coaching their
children either.  The Chairman of the Board, a pompous and
uncaring asshole, had smiled at him condescendingly and assured
him that it was simply a financial matter, nothing personal.  He
applied to the public school system but his application wasn't
even acknowledged, and whenever he phoned, John Halder the
Superintendent of Schools was conveniently never available.  You
didn't have to be a rocket scientist to know he was being
ignored.  Even though found not guilty, there had been enough
controversy and suspicion for him to also lose his scout
position.  He knew he could win if he protested even though he
didn't have the support of several powerful people on the
Council, especially Helen Ballard with whom he'd had frequent
clashes on the philosophy of scouting and what was appropriate
activity for boys. Besides, again there were paranoid parents who
would withdraw their children from the cub program and the
parents who kept their children in would always be suspicious of
him.  Staying would only hurt the kids he enjoyed working with. 
Even some of his closest friends, many of them fellow teachers,
believed the Reverend rather than him and the courts, and that
hurt almost as much as not being able to work with children. 
Even the Catholic Bishop, Bishop Henry, got into the act even
though he wasn't Catholic, giving his support to Pastor Winthrop
and calling for stricter character background checks for anyone
working with children, using the event of course to promote
Catholicism and as an opportunity to grab some of the limelight
himself. 

So, he ended up taking on the job of groundskeeper for the
Riverside Westbank Park, and for the past five months his hatred
of the Reverend, his former friends, and those directly
responsible for taking away everything he loved festered and
grew.  It was more than the loss of his positions. Little did any
of them, even his closest friends, know that he really enjoyed
the company of boys and all those years as a teacher, coach, and
scout leader he had lusted for them in his mind but had never in
fact done what he fantasized or read about on the Internet.  Now,
without the companionship and interaction with boys that had
helped him curb his desires all these years, his sexual craving
for boys had built up to a point of explosion, along with his new
fixation, to humiliate and degrade the fathers, mothers and
former friends who had opposed him.

Julius Gilles, unaware he had an audience, jogged into the
opening and Lad, upon seeing his bitch, immediately ran toward
him, tail wagging.  As he leaped up and gave Julius a long,
slobbery kiss, Julius returned the kiss on the dog's muzzle,
feeling a true warmth and love for the animal, and not just the
love of a master for his pet.  Lad of course felt more than love,
and began to hump the man's leg, to which the man joked with him
about his impatience as he quickly stripped off his clothes,
tossing them helter skelter on the grass in his eagerness. 
Having seen Julius jogging and disappearing into the bushes on
several occasions and at times remaining there for half an hour
or more, Bob had finally followed him last Friday when he'd shown
up in the park two hours early, and then on each subsequent day.
He knew of course what was about to happen, and having Lane there
to witness it seemed particularly fitting considering what Lane
had told him.

Lane's jaw dropped and he stared bugeyed as the man who had
replaced his brother as team captain stripped off his clothes and
dropped to his hands and knees, and as the eighty-five-pound
German Shepard mounted him and began to probe his ass with his
red prick until he succeeded in inserting it.  His eyes glued to
the scene before him as the dog began fucking, he could not
believe it.  Gilles was very clearly enjoying it.  Never had he
ever seen anything so perverted and disgusting in his life.

Lane was not the only one to be surprised that afternoon.  It was
at that moment that Anton and Francois stepped into the clearing,
having received a telephone message which they thought was from
their dad to meet him at that particular location and time for
their next lesson on sex.  Of course it was a totally fictitious
message using segments of tapes of their father's voice.  They
had been suspicious and reluctant when they'd gotten the call. 
It was most strange their father would phone them rather than
tell them before he'd left on his regular run, and like all young
boys, they didn't particularly look forward to a father-son talk
about sex.  In their case considering the previous lessons on
strip dancing and on sucking, the call was consistent with their
father's recent strange behaviour, and their apprehension was
even more justified than for most boys.  They were obedient sons
however, and so they had shown up as requested.  Seeing their
father naked had been embarrassing enough, and seeing him naked
and being screwed by a big, black and tan German Shepard, was
something they could never have been prepared for.  They at least
had no reason to doubt the authenticity of the phone message.

Julius of course was just as surprised to see his two youngest
sons as they were to see him.  He immediately tried to struggle
out from under the dog, but Lad was six years old and strong and
horny besides.  There was no way he was going to let Julius get
out from under him.  As the dog gripped him all the tighter with
his front legs and continued to thrust his cock in and out of his
rectum, his hot cock freely spurting cum up his ass and his knot
rapidly swelling, Julius did not know what to say or do.  How
does a father explain that he had been slipping away from home
each day to have sex with a dog?  The shame and guilt that
pleasure normally masked at this point flooded over him.

Bob had been surprised seeing Julius and the dog screwing on the
first day, and then seeing Julius show up each day at the same
time at the same spot and evidently look around with
disappointment for the dog, so seeing now his two sons too wasn't
as big a surprise.  He of course knew Julius and his wife as
parents who had boys attending Glencoe, and as parents of one of
his soccer players.  He also knew Julius as a fellow teacher. 
Even though he taught at the private school and Julius at the
public, they ran into each other frequently enough at common
teacher events, and Julius was always one to seek him out on such
occasions and strike up a conversation, always about how Anton
and Julian admired him and how Francois looked forward to being
taught by him, and asking about job opportunities and jokingly
commenting that he hoped Bob would put in a good word for him. 
Julius was also one of those with whom Bob bore a grudge, knowing
that after all the sucking up to him and trying to get him to
refer him to the Trustees each time a job came open at the
Academy, he was among the first of the parents to demand the
board fire him and the most vocal to denounce him before the
trial, and among the first to raise suspicions after the verdict.
 Of course he knew that had nothing to do with him personally and
was because Julius wanted desperately to be hired by the Academy
and would do anything for the chance.  The man wasn't a goose. 
He was a stinking weasel.

His disgust for the man had doubled when he'd seen him and the
dog, not because of the perverted act he was engaging in, but
because he always acted so pure and proper and especially so
after the charges against him, decrying the morals of a man who
lusted after young boys.  What about a man who lusted after dogs
and did it like a common cur in the park?  Then there was the
information just revealed that he'd sucked up and likely paid his
way to take over his coaching job and in two and a half months
had destroyed the teamwork and morale he'd built up, and in time
would destroy the soccer team itself.  That hatred extended to
Anton, simply because he was Julius's son, and because he was
just as much a snob and pompous ass as his father just as Lane
had correctly said his older brother was.  He had no doubt
Francois was the same as his father and his brothers.  As he
knelt there in the bushes, that fermenting hatred suddenly flamed
and the idea of humiliating his supposed friend in front of his
two boys presented itself.  Fucking the oldest boy in front of
his dad would be just revenge.

Lane, bearing the man no love from the comments his older brother
and his brother's teammates had made about him, and hating his
sons for being the sons of the man who'd replaced his brother as
team captain in favour of his son, felt the same desire to
degrade and punish the man, to treat him with the same contempt
as he treated others, and fucking the shit out of his youngest
son came to his mind.  He was not into fag sex and the thought
was novel, but the idea was so strong and so attractive he could
not deny it would give him great pleasure.  Besides, watching the
dog fucking the shit out of the hated coach had gotten him horny.
 He was, after all, only thirteen.  

Anger and lust coursed through Lane's veins and with each thrust
of the dog's hips it doubled.  He had to act, and he had to act
now.  He'd felt anger toward the man before, whenever his brother
had come home from practice or after watching him coaching a
game, but never had it felt so strong.  And of course he'd felt
horny before, many times, but crouching there in the grass he'd
never felt such lust and need in his loins.  Nor had Bob, and as
he glanced over at his former student, he saw the same anger and
lust in the boy's dark eyes.

"What do you say we go join the fun?" Bob asked huskily.

"Kewel," Lane replied, a leer curling his lips.

"Well, well, well," said Bob as he strode across the small
clearing, "if it isn't the Gilles boys out for some evening fun.
At least father Gilles seems to be having fun, doesn't he Lane?"

"Oh yeah.  A lot of fun," Lane replied, his eyes fixed on Lad's
slimy red cock pistoning in and out of Julius's asshole and his
swollen knot now fully expanded at the base.  Julius looked up at
the two helplessly, not knowing what to say.

"What's the matter, your shaggy boyfriend not have any puppies to
fuck your boys?" Bob asked, pretending to look around for them. 
Hearing his former teacher use the F word surprised Lane, but
also knowing how with it he was, it wasn't a shock.

Julius tried to get up, causing Lad to wrap his legs about his
waist still tighter and to lunge forward, driving his knot into
his rectum.  The sudden lunge and entry of the swollen muscle
caused Julius to wince with the pain despite the lube of Lad's
copious emission.  Lane's eyes widened with the disappearance of
the dog's knot up Julius's ass and the boy could not help wincing
himself with the thought of something that huge shoved up his
asshole.  "For God's sake, Bob, help me up," Julius managed to
gasp between deep breaths, needless to say finding it difficult
to talk, "can't you see I'm being attacked?"

"Attacked?" Bob asked with a smile.  "And what did the dog do,
strip you first?"

"I . . . well  . . .  I was exercising  . . .  and I  . . .  well
 . . .  took ."

"Sure," Bob said condescendingly, cutting him off.  "Is that how
you and your boys like it, getting raped?"

"Bob, for Heaven's sake!"

"What about it?  You boys like getting your asses fucked too?"
Bob asked, turning his attention to Anton and Francois.  To his
surprise, the look in the eyes of the two boys said yes.  Of
course they didn't say that, but he'd been around students long
enough to pick up on the nonverbal signs, and these signs said
the boys wanted to be screwed.  Well, considering that their
father stripped naked in the park and had sex with dogs, why not?
 "Well, unfortunately I don't see any other dogs around, but I
think Lane and I can fill the job, what do you say Lane?" Bob
asked as he unzipped his jeans and pushed them down, quickly
followed by his underwear.

"Uh, yeah, sure," Lane responded, surprised by his former
teacher's actions and by the sight of the man's privates.  The
man struck an imposing figure, six-foot-two and
two-hundred-and-fifty pounds with a solid build despite his beer
gut, his dirty brown hair with strands of grey done up in a pony
tail, his deep blue eyes, and his well-trimmed goatee of mostly
salt and paprika, and he was hung to match, with large low-hung
balls and a long, thick cock.  Lane pushed down his baggy cargo
shorts and his boxers.  The boy was of course fully aroused from
what had been happening, and his balls and stiff, young cock was
of a nice size for a thirteen-year-old.

"Have you boys ever had a man's cock up your ass before?" Bob
asked as he stepped up to Anton.  Anton and Francois shook their
heads but Bob could tell from the look in their eyes that there
was something the boys were not telling him.  Undoing Anton's
belt and pulling down his fly, he yanked down the boy's jeans and
underwear and spun him around.  The sight of his smooth, white,
compact ass completed Bob's transformation and his cock jutted up
in the air proud and eager for action.  If there had been any
doubt in Bob's mind before, it was gone with the sight of the
boy's compact ass and tender little pucker.  Copying his idol and
mentor, Lane did the same with Francois, his roughness with the
wide-eyed, frightened nine-year-old redhead being more out of
inexperience and excitement than intentional.

"Moser, you're going to pay for this," Julius said angrily,
unable to do anything else than threaten.  He had to do
something.  These were his sons!

"Pay?  You mean to say you're pimping your boys' asses?" Bob
taunted with a grin.  He didn't expect an answer as he pulled
apart Anton's cheeks and placed the tip of his aching cock
against the boy's hole.  He immediately felt the boy's sphincter
open as the boy pushed out with his stomach.  So, he'd been
right.  The boy did want it, and evidently had already had it. 
He was too frightened to have lied to him so evidently whoever
had fucked him before had not been a man.  He wondered who it had
been, or if maybe he too had a doggie playmate.  Either way, it
was probably what he'd sensed the two boys were holding back.  It
didn't really matter.  Gripping Anton's ass firmer, he slowly
pressed forward, wedging his dickhead into the boy's hole.  Anton
inhaled sharply and tensed with the pain as he tried desperately
to open his asshole wider.  The man's cock was a lot larger than
Cory Wilson's!  Bob knew the boy was in pain, his dick being
wider than most men's, but at that point he did not care.  In
fact he wanted the boy to feel pain because he was Goosey
Gilles's son, and because he wanted Gilles to see his son's pain.
 He pushed on ruthlessly, grunting and gasping with the effort,
and Anton grunted and gasped too as he tried to accommodate the
man.  His asshole felt like it was being split and he gritted his
teeth to hold back his scream.

Lane had never considered fucking another guy's ass before and
though aware of the world of porn out there as available as a
click on his computer, he'd never been all that interested even
for pictures or stories about straight sex.  So, as he positioned
the tip of his stiff cock in Francois' hole and grasped Francois'
hips and pushed forward, it was only by copying Bob, whom he was
watching out of the corner of his eye.  And, as Francois pushed
out with his stomach, having been fucked twice already by Anthony
and once by his brother and knowing how to lessen the pain, Lane
had no idea that the boy had previous experience.  He too had a
wide cock, but at the age of thirteen, it was still slender
compared to that of a man's, and Anthony's cock had been just as
wide, so he had less difficulty sinking his cock up Francois'
rectum.  He was surprised how hot and how moist the boy's rectum
was, and that it felt like what he'd imagined a girl's cunt would
feel like.

Bob had by then forced his knob inside Anton and was sinking his
seven-inches of stiff, aching meat up the twelve-year-old's
rectum.  It was delightful, even more delightful than the porn
he'd read had described, even more delightful than he'd imagined
it would be.  Grasping Anton's hips tightly, he slowly eased his
cock back up until his knob was stretching open the boy's
sphincter, this time from the inside, and then he slowly sank his
cock back in, delighting in the pleasure throbbing through his
stiff cock.  It seemed so much larger up the boy's asshole
compared to being in his hand.  He had imagined this for years,
and now that it was finally a reality, he could not believe how
marvellous it felt.  As he worked his thick cock in and out of
the boy, the boy opened and closed his sphincter in time with his
movements, confirming that the boy had previous experience.  That
did not disappoint him, and in fact, it also confirmed his
contention all along that boys were sexual beings with sexual
needs just like men, a fact adults consistently ignored or
outright denied.  From the boy's deep breathing and trembling, it
was evident also that he was enjoying getting his ass fucked,
which made fucking him all the more pleasant.

Lane had no such previous fantasies and nothing to base his first
experience on.  All he knew was that it felt fucking damn good. 
His cock was surrounded by hot, moist flesh, just as it would if
he were fucking a girl, and it felt good having it totally
surrounded by pulsating flesh.  His knob tingled and burned with
that still new and awesome pleasure just like it did when he
jerked off.  Francois was gasping and trembling just as he'd
imagined a girl would when he fucked her.  Actually, he had to
admit that having sex with another guy was not all that bad, and
that it was better than getting off by yourself.  Of course he
was the one doing the fucking, and Francois was the one being
fucked.  That made a big difference.  And he was fucking the son
of the coach who had replaced his brother as team captain.  That
made a big difference too, a very big difference.  He thrust his
cock in and out of Francois not just with the urgency of a
thirteen-year-old experiencing his first fuck and eager to get
his nuts off, but also with the anger of a young teen.  With each
thrust of his throbbing cock deep up the nine-year-old's rectum
he was getting his brother's revenge against Julius Gilles.

Bob had exactly the same thoughts.  After five months, he was
getting his revenge against the first of the many who had wronged
him.  He was fucking the son of the man who had promoted hatred
against him.  Well, he hated Julius Gilles as much as the man
hated him, maybe even more.  So the former teacher, coach and cub
leader thrust his hips forward angrily, impaling the squirming
twelve-year-old boy with his seven-inch spike of flesh.  His deep
blue eyes blazed with lust and with revenge as he took out his
anger on the boy, fucking him furiously before his father, having
purposefully positioned himself so Julius Gilles could see both
of his sons being raped, and so that he could watch the
molestation of young Francois.

Julius knelt there pinned under Lad and locked with him as the
dog spurted out his seed as he watched his two boys being abused.
 He had envied Bob Moser for years, and now he hated him.  Bob
had the respect and admiration of his students, something Julius
wished he had but could not.  Even his own son spoke admiringly
of him.  Bob was teaching at the prestigious Royal Glencoe
Academy for Boys despite his obvious hippy appearance, though he
did wear the school uniform as required, a position and a
privilege that had been repeatedly denied Julius.  And the man
had done nothing to help him get a job at the Academy.  He had
hated him for that, and now he hated him for what he was doing to
his son.  At least he had the vindication that he'd been right. 
Bob Moser was an abuser of young boys as he'd claimed all along.
Bob Moser was a pervert paedophile who delighted in having sex
with boys, something else that deep down inside he .  Julius
shook the thought from his head.  No.  He concentrated on his
hatred to prevent its return. It was better to hate Bob Moser for
what he was doing than to envy him.  Better to hate the man than
feel the shame and frustration of kneeling there in the clearing
unable to help either of his boys.  Better to hate the man than
feel the embarrassment and humiliation of having been found in
the park stark naked and having sex with a dog.

Bob Moser saw the look of anger, embarrassment, and shame on
Julius's face, which heightened his delight in ravishing his
twelve-year-old son.  He fucked the boy rapidly and roughly, each
trust of his stiff cock up the boy's ass being like a dagger's
thrust in Julius Gilles's heart.  He concentrated on the pleasure
of the young boy's hot, pulsating ass and on the perversity of
fucking the boy before his father and before his brother, who was
being ravished just as eagerly.  Lane, his dark eyes almost
closed in ecstasy behind those deliciously long and fluttering
eyelashes, his soft, beardless cheeks flushed with pleasure and
his smooth, ruby lips parted as he inhaled and exhaled deeply
with his pleasure and as his lean, muscular body perspired in the
late afternoon sun, soaking his black nylon net T-shirt, was lost
in his own world of sexual delight as he felt the pressure
developing in his loins.  The sight of the black-haired,
dark-eyed youth in the throes of sexual ecstasy as he furiously
fucked the shit out of Julius Gilles's nine-year-old son brought
Bob to the brink.

As Lad's continuously spurting cock finally subsided and he
pulled his knot out of Julius's asshole, Bob grunted and lunged
forward, sinking his seven-inch cock up Anton's rectum and
filling it with his hot, thick cum.  Spurt after spurt of his hot
seed shot up the boy's ass with more force than he'd ever shot
before.  To his delight it seemed as if there was going to be no
end.  At the same time Lane grasped Francois's hips as he too
lunged forward and pumped his thick, teenage cum up the boy's
asshole.  Young and perpetually horny, he too shot repeatedly and
copiously and he groaned with the immense pleasure of each shot.
He and Bob threw back their heads and trembled and gasped with
the delight of their ejaculations, and Julius Gilles knelt there
naked and helpless as he watched, his cock sticking up between
his legs, the result of the lengthy fuck he'd received.

It was several minutes before Bob finally pulled his still stiff
cock out of Anton's asshole, and as he did so, so did Lane.  Like
himself, the boy was still stiff, and the sight of the
thirteen-year-old's stiff cock jutting up in the air and anointed
with his fresh cum and Francois' ass juices made Bob ache with
delight at the boy's pleasure and with joy in being in part
responsible for it.  How could any sensible man deny a boy such a
pleasure?  How could any man condemn another for wishing it?  He
glanced over at Julius and smirked at the look of shame and
humiliation on the man's face.  He could only imagine how the man
must be feeling having just watched his two young sons get the
shit fucked out of them. Well, he deserved it.  He deserved it
and more, much more for what he'd done.

"Felch your boys."  Julius looked up at the man, not
comprehending what the man wanted him to do.  "Felch.  You know,
suck the cum back out of their assholes."

Julius's look of lack of comprehension turned to a look of
disbelief.  How could he ask him to do such a thing?  How could a
man with such a filthy mind have been hired to teach at the Royal
Glencoe?  He looked up into those crazed, blazing eyes filled
with disgust and with hatred.  The man was evidently not just a
pervert, but he was crazy besides.  The memory of having forced
the blond seven-year-old son of Reverend Winthrop to do the same
thing to him flashed through his mind, except it had been dog cum
that he'd forced the boy to suck up.  That seemed so long ago. 
What sort of sicko pervert was he himself?  He looked up into Bob
Moser's eyes again.  He knew he'd better respond or who knows
what would come to the man's mind next.  Shuffling over to Anton
on his knees, he pulled apart his son's ass cheeks and ran his
tongue up along his crack, tasting the salty sweat of his ass
crack and the bitter cum that had oozed out of his hole and down
the cord toward his balls.  He wormed his tongue in his son's
hole as Bob instructed, too demoralized to fight, and he fastened
his lips to his young son's asshole and sucked out the man's cum,
flavoured with his son's shit and ass juice.  He opened his
mouth, full of the foul brown-streaked white slime to prove he'd
done as he'd been told before swallowing it.  He gagged and
brought it back up, but forced it back down before it spewed out,
knowing he'd only be forced to eat it anyway.  Bob laughed and
commented that he didn't have to bring it back up to taste it a
second time.  His other son had a load waiting to be felched
also.  His cheeks burning with shame and his eyes glaring with
hatred, he fastened his lips to Anton's hole once again and
continued sucking Bob Moser's seed from his son's ass.

Lane stood there in surprise and in delight as he watched Julius
Gilles sucking his older son's asshole and then shuffling over
and placing his lips against the butthole of his youngest.  This
was the icing on the cake, watching the hated coach sucking his
cum out of his son's hole.  He, like most of his classmates, had
used the derogatory term "suckhole" many times in the past.  The
next time he used it, it would have a whole new meaning.  Who
would ever imagine a guy would actually do something so
perverted?  Who would ever imagine Goosey Gilles would do such a
thing, to his own sons!  Wait until he told Spence about this! 
It served the son of a bitch right for what he'd done, for what
he'd done to his brother and for what he'd done to Mister Moser.
And so he stood there and stared in fascination and in delight as
Julius Gilles sucked his cum out of his youngest son's ass, and
as he opened his mouth to show him the mouthful of slime, looking
like congealed eggwhite streaked with brown molasses, to prove
he'd done as he'd been told before he swallowed the teenage boy's
thick, tart load.  He wished Spence could see the look of disgust
on the man's face.  

"Now you two boys can thank your pervert dad by doing the same
for him," Bob said, the idea just popping into his head and him
voicing it without a second thought.  Served the bastard right
for doing what he'd done to him.  Served his two snobbish,
arrogant sons right also for being snobbish and arrogant.  "Do
it," he said with an edge to his voice, an uncharacteristic edge
that Lane Spudder had never heard his former teacher and Royal
Glencoe Academy coach use before.

Anton and Francois nervously and fearfully knelt behind their dad
and looked apprehensively at his asshole.  It was raw and red
from Lad's furious fucking and from having been plugged by Lad's
knot, and it was leaking the copious, watery cum the dog had shot
up it.  Anton swallowed hard as he slowly leaned forward and
placed his lips against his father's asshole.  He gagged with
just the thought and drew back.  Inhaling deeply and bracing
himself, he leaned forward again.  He had heard Justin speak of
the former coach with praise and admiration, but he'd also heard
his father and others speak of the man's evil and their disgust
for him.  How there could be two such opposing views the
twelve-year-old did not understand.  What he did understand was
that he had better obey the man, and that the sooner he and his
brother did as they'd been told the sooner it would be over.

And so the two sons took turns sucking on their father's asshole,
sucking the salty, bitter doggy slime from his ass along with his
ass slime and bits of shit.  Francois pressed his young, smooth
lips against his father's filthy asshole and sucked, and licked
the slime from his lips as he swallowed the foul concoction and
watched his brother do the same.  The two boys felt filthy and
ashamed, and yet there was a sense of eroticism and arousal in
what they were doing which made them wonder if they were
suffering from the same mental illness their father was.  Julius
stood there, flushed a bright red with embarrassment and
humiliation, his lips and cheeks glistening with the ass slime of
his two sons and the cum from Bob Moser and Lane Spudder and with
a foul taste in his mouth.  Despite the filth and perversion,
despite his shame and embarrassment, he too felt a sense of
eroticism and his swollen cock ached with arousal.  He had the
biggest, stiffest hardon he'd ever had in his life, and the fact
it was the result of having his two sons felch the dog slime from
his asshole was sick.  Lad of course had filled his ass well, and
it took his sons a long time to clean him.  By the time they were
done his cock felt like it would burst if it was touched.

Bob had seen the man's perverted reaction and had considered
having his two boys apply their sucking skills and talented
tongues to their father's aching cock, but at the last moment he
decided against it.  He smiled wickedly as he looked down at the
two kneeling boys and then up at their father.  The boys
themselves still had raging boners, from being fucked and from
the mutual felching between themselves and their father.  Well,
let the three of them go home horny and unfulfilled.  That was
fitting.  This time.
  
********

Thanks to Bob for the character of Bob Moser and the ideas behind
this chapter.  What else would you like to see happen?  Have you
ever had someone you hated and wanted to get even with?  Email me
your idea and I'll write it as part of this story and if you wish
add you as one of the characters.  Anything goes, the hotter and
more perverted the better, except I don't write snuff and torture
of kids and anything involving player characters would need their
collaboration.  Non player characters available for your
amusement and abuse include the Gilles family, Vice Principal
Stuart Millburne, Baptist Pastor Winthrop and his family, and
Father Henry.  Player characters created by readers so far are
Dominic, Terry, Anthony and Bob with a supporting cast of Jonah
and Lane and of course the star of the series, Cory.

<1st attachment end>


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