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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: Sat, 10 Sep 2005 06:10:01 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

TEACHER - PART THIRTEEN

By Daemon Way

daemonway@yahoo.ca

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.


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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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