PZA: Brewster Adventures 1-4

This is a story involving four brothers, two preteens and two thirteen-year-olds dominating Santa Claus

If you don't believe young boys should have sex, or in Santa, don't read this.
Christmas presents may be sent to J.O. Dickingson at authorsix(at)hotmail(dot)com

— Mtb – coerc oral anal mast —
4,500 words (9 pages)

Santa's tummy shook as he laughed at the sight of the stack of chocolate brownies and the huge mug of milk. Leave it to the Brewster boys. Most children would leave maybe four cookies, one for each of them, but the four brothers must have left at least a dozen and a half. He glanced at the photos of the four boys on the fireplace mantle, each one above a bright red or green Christmas stocking. Nine-year-old Bobby was a handsome boy who took after his dad. He had his Dad's hazel eyes, high cheek bones and dark brown hair, which he wore in the current style of shaved sides and permed top, but he had his mother's fine features of nose and mouth. Eleven-year-old Benny was a slightly older version of Bobby, having exactly the same features and the same devilish grin.

"Actually," Santa thought as he reached for another brownie, "what goes around comes around. Their father was a bit of a devil when he was their age too, and his father before that." The merry old elf did have to admit that in this case, the boys' father had gotten considerably more than his deserved share of retribution.

Physically, the thirteen-year-old twins took after their mother. Wearing their fine blond hair down to their shoulders, and having their mother's delicate looks, blue eyes, and small bones, the two boys looked more like young girls than teenage boys. Actually, at four foot nine [1.45 m] and ninety pounds [40 kg], there were many girls their age taller and heavier. When it came to personality, however, they too took after their father.

"Well," Santa thought as he stuffed another brownie in his mouth and reached for the next, "it will take a lot more than this to swing the balance in their favour considering the boys' behaviour this past year." He checked off the list. First, there had been the lipping off to parents and teachers that applied to all four boys. Then there had been the toad left in Bobby's teacher's desk. The picture Benny had drawn on the chalk board of Mr. Carsley sucking cock and had then covered with the roll-up map had drawn a lot of laughs from his classmates. The used condom in Mrs Wilson's desk, the twin's teacher, had also been the talk of the school yard for a week afterward. The squirting of their young seed into the condom the old toy maker was tempted to list as a separate offense, but considering that these days every boy engaged in the vice of masturbation, he decided against it.

Besides, there were plenty of other offenses. There had been the incident where the boys had convinced little six-year-old Suzie that there was a bad case of cuntitis going around and to raise her dress and drop her panties so the boys could check if she had it. Of course there were countless times the twins had copied someone else's homework, and the time Benny had skipped school to play video games all afternoon. Who could forget the incident of the Tabasco sauce and the neighbour's cat, which Bobby claimed to know nothing about, and the missing bottle of vodka and the four very sick boys last Easter?

Finishing off the last brownie, Santa wiped the crumbs from his moustache. He had at least two pages in his book just on the Brewster boys for this past year. The lumps of coal and four potatoes he had brought for their stockings would be a just reminder that there was still someone on this Earth who watched if you were naughty or nice, and who still rewarded the good and punished the naughty.

As he swung around to his sack, he suddenly felt a dizzy spell pass over him. Quickly sitting in the arm chair, he took several deep breaths as his head began to spin and everything in the room went blurry. Mrs Claus had warned him all these rich deserts and his weight were going to catch up to him.

"Shit, all eighteen. No wonder he's so fat," came another voice that was identical but on the other side of him.

He blinked his eyes and the vision of four young, cherubic boys in fuzzy blue and white striped pajamas came into view, except these were hardly cherubs. These were the Brewster brothers, and they were trying desperately to open his toy sack.

"You won't be able to open it," Santa said, his tongue feeling strangely thick and everything around him taking on strange colours and wobbly shapes.

"Toldya he'd be too busy to be spying on us this morning," Brett said triumphantly.

"Yeah, well, I was the one that said he'd eat eighteen brownies," bragged Brent.

"It's magical. Only I can open it," Santa explained, hoping that by explaining the futility of his actions the nine-year-old might not get any angrier than he already was.

"That is the sort of language that puts you in the naughty book," Santa reprimanded, wagging his finger, except it looked like three fingers in his clouded mind.

"Fuck, piss, shit, damn," Bobby cursed, showing the old fart just what he thought of his naughty book.

"Then you'll have to open it for us," Benny suggested. He was the wheedler of the four.

"I hardly think so," Santa replied as he blinked his eyes and wished that he could clear his head of the fog that had filled it.

"Oh yeah," said the twins together with a gleam in their eyes. "We can make you."

Santa knew their history very well, and there was no doubt they could make things very uncomfortable for him, but they were, after all, just boys. He could take whatever they came up with. Besides, he had been dealing with naughty boys for more than sixteen hundred years.

"No, but you won't get any of the toys in that sack. You don't deserve any of them. You can do what you want. I won't open it."

"Yeah? How about this then?" Brett asked, winding up and giving Santa a solid blow to the stomach.

Santa grunted as the young boy's fist sunk into his rotund belly, but at four foot nine [1.45 m] and ninety pounds [40 kg], he didn't have the strength to have that much of an effect. Besides, with his heavy suit, Santa hardly felt a thing. Brent stepped up and tried his best with the same result. Benny gave him a sharp kick to the shins but with his slippered foot and Santa's big snow boots, he ended up stubbing his toes instead.

"Ahhh, fuckin' shit!" he called out, hopping on one foot while he held the other.

Bobby leaped on his lap and gave his whiskers a solid tug just as he had done to store Santas ever since he'd been able to walk, but when you are as old as Santa, that was a minor pain.

"All right you fat bugger," Brett said defiantly, "see what you think of this." Pulling down Santa's fly, he reached inside and found his eggs before Santa's befuddled mind could focus on what was happening and stop the thirteen-year-old delinquent. His balls were hot and sweaty in his big winter suit and long johns. Wrapping his fingers about them, Brett squeezed, and although he caused the ancient man to clench his eyes and wince with the pain, Santa did not give in. That pain was nothing compared to the kick Vixen had given him between the legs the night he'd been feeling particularly horny and Mrs. Claus had not been in the mood. Besides, at his age, his nuts were not of much use anymore anyway.

"What did you put in those brownies anyway?" Santa asked, feeling very mellow despite the circumstances he found himself in.

The boys all giggled and as one, leaped on the befuddled old man. Wrestling him to the floor, they tugged off his big black snow boots, and soon had his big black belt unbuckled and his red fur-trimmed coat off. Each of the twins took one of his suspenders, and pulling them back, they snapped them against his fat chest, causing him to jerk with the pain. He tried to fight the boys off, but the marijuana had taken effect, and he had next to no control over his body, or his mind. With the amount he had consumed, he was doing well just being conscious of what was happening around him, and that was only because of his size and stupendous weight.

The boys unbuttoned his shirt and after some difficulty, managed to roll him over and remove it. It took all four of them to tug off his pants. The four boys stopped for a breather, their thin chests heaving with the exertion and their bodies damp with perspiration. This was hot work, especially in their flannel pj's. Santa lay there helplessly on his back in nothing but his red woolly long johns. He resisted feebly as the boys unbuttoned them, and slipped them off.

The boys all giggled. They suddenly pounced on him and began to explore his body with their hands. Bobby and Benny played with his chest, bunching up his tits and wiggling them and trying to make them stick out like a girl's. Brent bunched up the folds of fat on his stomach. Burying his little hands in them and jiggling them, he was amazed at the layers of blubber compared to his own flat stomach. Brett raised the old man's legs and flopped the fat on his thighs back and forth like the wattles on a rooster.

Perspiring with their exertion, Bobby and Benny chucked their pajamas and snuggled up to the naked, merry old elf on the carpet. His body was soft and warm. This was even better than snuggling up to a fluffy pillow. They rubbed their smooth, naked bodies against him and ran their hands through the white hairs on his chest and fondled his nipples. His nipples soon became hard, much to their amazement, and as they continued to fondle them Santa squirmed with the pleasure. Intrigued, the boys fondled them even more, which made them grow still firmer and made Santa quiver with arousal. It had been many years since anyone had done that to him, and despite the circumstances, it felt good. To his shame, he felt a stirring between his legs.

"Hey, his belly really is like a bowl of jelly," observed Brent as he pushed his fist into the old man's pale pink stomach. "Push in one place and it bulges out somewhere else."

"Yeah? Well, his bum is more like a tub of lard," observed Brett as he gave it a resounding smack.

"Hey, I owe him a good smack for not bringing me that Mortal Combat game last Christmas," said Brent.

Rolling Santa over on his stomach, Brett gave his ass a solid smack, leaving his hand print on the old man's butt.

"Fuck, I got a dozen gifts I asked for that he never brung," observed Bobby gleefully.

One by one the boys took turns smacking his fat ass, at first in punishment for unfulfilled wish lists, and then just for the fun of smacking the plump cheeks. Pain rippled through his rump with each smack, the boys striking him with all their strength in anger for gifts never delivered and for the pairs of socks and underwear that had been left instead, and then simply to see who could outdo the other. Pain from one smack was still rippling through his bum when the next smack was delivered. The boys continued until his fat arse was glowing like Rudolph's nose and felt like it was on fire.

"Remember when we caught Justin's brother and his girlfriend by surprise?" he said with a leer.

They rolled Santa back over on his back and slipped the sofa cushions under his hips to raise his ass as they had watched Justin's brother do. Benny began to play with himself, and he did not have to tug on his penis long before he had it stiff.

"Oh yeah? Well, you wait and see what I'm going to do next," he said with a wicked grin. He let go of his erect penis and the little eleven-year-old boner jerked up and down excitedly. "You'll like it, you'll see," he said as he squeezed his little pink erection and tensed with the strange pleasure it brought him.

Benny knelt between the old man's legs and the now quite concerned toy-maker tried to get up, but he was too dizzy to put up any resistance. He lay there helplessly as he felt the hot, hard little knob of the young boy's penis press against his anus. This could not be happening to him! Raped by an eleven-year-old child on Christmas Eve! The twins each took a butt cheek and pulled them apart in an attempt to help their younger brother penetrate the fat rump. The two boys watched with excitement as their brother's little three inch [7½ cm] penis slowly entered the old man's hot asshole. Santa lay there helplessly, the two brothers stretching apart his ass while the third knelt there with his boy cock sunk up his rectum.

Benny began to work his hips to and fro as he and Bobby had seen Justin's older brother doing to his girl.

"Well," said Brett, "I'm going to have some fun too." He pushed down his pyjama bottoms.

"Far out!" Brent giggled as he too pushed down his pyjama bottoms and stepped out of them. Like his brother, he already had a hardon.

The two twins approached the old man on either side of his head. Reaching for their little boy cocks, they leaned in and aimed their stiff little dicks for Santa's mouth.

"Forget it," Santa glared. "I might not be able to do anything about your brother, but you can't make me do that." He clamped his lips shut tightly.

The two looked at each other for a moment. "Hey, Bobby, get that candle on the fireplace and light it."

Bobby hastened to do his older brother's bidding. Brent told him to wait until the tip was full of melted wax, and then to drip it onto Santa's nipple. Bobby grinned with malicious glee. The five waited patiently, Benny even pausing in what he was doing to watch.

It seemed to take forever, but finally the candle wax began to drip down the side. Bobby immediately held it over Santa's chest and tipped it. As the hot wax struck his teat, Santa grimaced and jerked with the burning pain.

Santa said nothing. It hurt, but to do what the boys wanted was sick. He loved little children, but not that way. Although he could not prevent being ravaged by their eleven-year-old brother, he could refuse to open his mouth. With everything he had gone through over the centuries, he could handle the pain of a little melted wax.

"All right. I'll do it." He could handle some pain, but he was not prepared to handle that much. Besides, they were the ones forcing him to perform oral sex on them, not the other way around. Why should he risk getting his dick head burnt?

Once again the two boys knelt on either side of his head and he reluctantly opened his mouth. The two twin wieners entered his mouth and he closed his lips about them. For the deeply religious and prudish old man, this was the most repugnant thing he had ever had to do in sixteen hundred years of living. To be forced to do such a thing to another male was degrading and humiliating, and to be forced to do it by two children made it even more so.

Knowing he had no choice but to do the sordid act, he decided to do it as fast as he could and get it over with. As he sucked on the hot, hard boymeat, he felt the two becoming even firmer in his mouth. Brent and Brett glanced at each other and grinned as each felt himself swelling in the old man's mouth. Never had they felt so hard or so horny. As each felt the other's hard cock pressing against his, it was even more wonderful. The twins were used to doing many things together, and this had to be the ultimate.

The way that Santa was sucking on their little cocks, the boys were convinced that the old man had been cowered into doing whatever they wanted. The feeling of power over the old bugger made them feel all that much better. Revenge is sweet when you are thirteen, especially when it is an adult that you are getting the best of. Soon their four inch [10 cm] stiffs were hot and throbbing. The two teenagers squirmed and in their excitement began to work their itchy little cocks in and out of Santa's mouth. This felt even better than tugging on them.

As Santa sucked on the two boys, Benny resumed screwing his ass. That was definitely better than tugging on it as far as the eleven-year-old was concerned, and already he was forming plans how he might get his younger brother to allow him to do this to him. Mind you, it probably would not feel as good as fucking Santa. For one, the old man's fat ass was a warm, soft cushion for Benny's hairless groin. For another, he was not just fucking the old fart, he was paying him back for all those toys he had not delivered in the past.

Straddling the old man's fat stomach with his back to him, Bobby began to rock back and forth, rubbing his little nuts against the man's hairy stomach. The man was so fat Bobby's feet just barely touched the carpet. He reached over and began to fondle the old man's dick as he had seen his twin brothers fondle theirs, and as the twins had on occasion let him do to them. Santa's cock slowly began to respond until his thick, uncut dick stood straight up in the air. Standing at six-and-a-half inches [16½ cm] and with a shaft circumference of five inches [12½ cm] , it was impressive. The boys all paused to admire the old man's staff and each in turn wrapped his little fist around it and felt it. Now this was going to be something to tell their friends tomorrow!

Santa could only lay there as he watched the children fondle that most private part of his person, and then resume what they had been doing before the interruption. Although the images around him were going in and out of focus, and although he was finding it difficult to concentrate, the old man was fully aware of what was happening to him. He was also feeling the shame and the humiliation just as clearly as if he was not high on the hash. The shock of being sexually assaulted by four children, and the even greater shock at the immense joy the boys were experiencing cut through the effects of the drug.

The four boys were grunting with exertion and desire as lust filled their young minds and their stiff little organs throbbed with irritation. Their hot little bodies were perspiring, and the sweat was running along Santa's folds of fat in rivulets. After ten minutes of the most intense pleasure the four boys had ever felt, Bobby noticed the clock on the mantle.

"No," Santa explained, slipping his mouth off the two hard little cocks to give his jaw a much needed break. His mind was now groggy not just from the drugs but from the pleasure rippling through his erection and up his anus. The former he had not felt in decades, and the latter he had never felt in his life. "It's not broken," he explained, trying to get his mind off the pleasure that was rippling through his body, and the guilt feelings he was experiencing for enjoying what was happening to him. "Time stops whenever I enter a home."

"Yes," Santa said. On the one hand he knew that what was happening here was totally wrong, but on the other he had never felt so aroused in centuries. On the one hand he wanted this humiliation to be over, but on the other, he would not mind if it lasted for several hours. It was with those confused, mixed feelings that he slipped his mouth back over the two stiff, flushed boy cocks. As the young teens began to thrust their irritated shafts in and out of his mouth, reality set back in. The sooner he brought the two boys off, the sooner all this would be over.

All four boys had no desire for this to end as they resumed their fun with a renewed vigour. This was totally awesome. Benny's little cock was feeling fantastic as he furiously fucked Santa's ass. It seemed to get hotter and hotter with each thrust. This was way better than jacking off. The young boy felt the tension slowly developing in his groin, and he began to thrust even faster and harder. He had to go off. His little butt became a blur as he humped the merry old elf furiously. His cock got hotter and more tingly until finally he felt a spring uncoil deep in his groin. He shivered and gasped and thrust his hips as he began his dry orgasm. It was not his first, and he closed his eyes and sighed with the familiar feeling.

That sparked off Brent, who withdrew his cock and spurted his young boy cum in Santa's beard. His little nuts were drawn up tight against his body, and his cum squirted out in six violent jerks, leaving three streamers of thin sticky boy cum in the old man's snowy white beard. Seconds later Brett was pumping his seed into the old man's mouth, his hot little teenage cock throbbing his stuff out violently. The twins panted and sighed with the release of their tension and their boy juice. Their eyelids closed and their lips curled with the pure joy of ejaculation.

Bobby was the last but now he began to squirm and jerk uncontrollably as his dry orgasm struck. The young boy thrust his hips to and fro in a desperate passion as ripples of orgasm racked his mind. His little three-inch [7½ cm] stiffie burned with a need and a pleasure that was still rare enough for the young boy to be awesome. His mind was dizzy with the burst of feelings and emotions inside him.

He gripped the solid cock in his hand, momentarily forgetting what he was holding. As Santa's thick cock throbbed violently, Bobby's attention returned to it and he began to pump on it vigorously. Seconds later Santa's own cum spurted out and landed back in his white hairs. He only throbbed three times and his shot was limited to a flow of thick semen in a single ribbon, but for Bobby it was still awesome to feel an adult's cock in his fist, and to have brought off an adult with his hand. It was particularly awesome to have jerked off Santa Claus! Despite the hundreds of thousands of times Santa had experienced an ejaculation, it felt wonderful to him also.

Totally spent, the five lay on the shag carpet before the Christmas tree and caught their breaths. The twinkling lights of the tree were reflected off their shiny prick heads. The physical exertion and rushing of his blood through his body cleared Santa's mind enough that he was able to get dressed. He quickly slipped up the chimney and crawled into the sleigh before the boys could do any more to him.

"On Donner, on Blitzen, Comet and Cupid," he called, bringing the boys out of their blissful daze.

The boys looked out the window at the little red dot in the sky. That little red dot was already making a note about next Christmas. After what the boys had done, they would be lucky to get any presents for the next ten years. The boys, meanwhile, glanced at each other, and then over at the camcorder in the corner of the living room. They had set it up to catch Santa getting high. The video they now had was of much greater value. Instead of a funny video of the merry old elf stoned out of his mind, they had in their possession something even better. This was the perfect opportunity to blackmail the old fart.

When they sent Santa a copy next December with their wish list, he would have no choice but to fill it. Releasing the video to the televison station would ruin him forever. Who would trust a Santa who did such nasty things with little children in their homes in the pitch blackness of the night? What child would ever write to him again? Well, what good little child anyway. There would be enough of the same ilk as the Brewster boys to keep him busy for a night.

As the boys began heading up the stairs to their room, they began preparing their list for next Christmas Eve. As the boys lay down in their beds, four young hands slipped inside the front of wooly blue and white striped pyjama bottoms. Topping each list was topping the jolly old elf again next year.

(2) 14 February 1999
The Brewster Boys Play Cupid

This is a story involving four brothers, two preteens and two thirteen-year-olds and adults in sexual situations

If you don't believe young boys should have sex, or in Cupid, don't read this.
Valentines may be sent to J.O. Dickingson at authorsix(at)hotmail(dot)com

— MM FF tt – magic oral anal mast —
6,500 words (13 pages)

"Hot damn!" shouted Bobby as he heard the clatter of tin cans outside the boys' bedroom window. The nine-year-old, pajamas-clad youngster, charged down the stairs, through the kitchen and out the back door, having paused only to jump into his snow boots. Racing up to the snare trap, he suddenly stopped and stared at what he had caught. "What the fucking shit?"

"Of course I'm no rabbit you little moron!" snapped the naked boy hanging upside down from the willow branch by his right ankle.

It was a bright night, the moonlight reflecting off the crisp snow and the naked boy's pink backside. The boy was swaying back and forth and his face was turning red. He couldn't have been more than thirty-five pounds [16 kg], and looked to be about two-and-a-half feet [75 cm] tall, about the size of a four-year-old. He was totally naked, which was most strange considering it was February 14, a cold, wintery night in the northwest. Despite his angry, flashing eyes and the scowl on his face, he looked kind of sweet and innocent. As Bobby circled around him, he discovered much to his surprise that the boy had small, white wings protruding from his back. Laying on the ground was a bow, a long red ribbon, and a quiver of arrows.

The cherub looked at the nine-year-old incredulously. Standing there in his wooly, white and blue striped pj's and snow boots and with his wide, innocent hazel eyes and fresh pink face, he was the image of purity and innocence, but the cherub had not been born yesterday. "Com'on, now a days even nine-year-old's know that."

Bobby looked up at the flushed upside down boy and then about the yard and finally up at the bedroom window of the neighbour's house.

"You were going to shoot an arrow at Cheryl," he observed, referring to the neighbour's sixteen-year-old daughter.

Bobby grinned. He, his eleven-year-old brother Benny, and his twin brothers, thirteen-year-olds Brett and Brent, had spent many nights wanking on their little boy dicks while sharing their dad's binoculars to watch Cheryl strip down for bed.

Bobby slowly turned so he was aiming at the upside down boy. "So you gonna tell me how these work?"

"Yes, yes, anything, just put it down!" the cherub screeched, his normally high boyish voice even higher with genuine fear.

"It's simple. You make someone think of another person, and while they are thinking of that person you stick them with one of those arrows and they fall in love."

"Telepathy. You just concentrate on the person you want them to think about and the arrow will carry the thought to the person you're aiming at."

The cherub pursed his lips. "I've already told you more than a mortal is supposed to know."

Replacing the arrow he had with a red tipped one, he looked up at the cherub with an impish grin as he began to draw back on the bow once more.

"Horny? Way cool!" the boy said with a devilish grin. "I didn't know you did that too."

"My other name is Eros. Over the years people have sort of forgotten there are three roles I play."

"Well, there's not much I can do about you mortals having created the day. I had nothing to do with naming it. Now put that stuff down and cut me loose."

Taking the long, red ribbon, Bobby quickly tied the cherub's plumb little ankles together and then his wrists. He then looped the ribbon around his head and gagged him to stop his protesting. Finally loosening the snare and lowering him from the branch, Bobby picked the little boy up and headed for the back door. Being only fifty-eight pounds [26 kg] and four foot two [1.27 m], it was a bit of a struggle, but among other things, Bobby was known for his determination. Besides, if he bumped the naked cherub's little ass on the railing a few times as he struggled up the steps all the more fun.

His mom and dad were watching the eleven p.m. news so there was no danger in getting caught. Carrying the cherub up to the room he shared with his three brothers, all of whom were asleep, Bobby hung him up in the closet and gave him a big smile. "Tomorrow is going to be way cool," he observed. Closing the door, he crawled into the bottom bunk and drifted off with dreams that would have shocked his parents, and even those who knew how devilish the youngest of the Brewster boys could be.

He slept in the next morning, as usual, and had to be called half a dozen times to get ready for school, also as usual. Joining his three brothers in the kitchen, he gulped down several mouthfuls of milk straight from the bottle and grabbed several handfuls of cereal for breakfast. On the way to the bus stop he explained why he was carrying a tiny bow and a quiver of arrows, and what had happened the previous night. Never hanging anything up and never putting anything away, the boys had not had a reason to go into the closet. Huge grins spread across each face as each boy began thinking of what he could do with those magic arrows.

Bobby's best friend, Aaron, was waiting at the bus stop. "See your mom wouldn't let you stay home either," he said as a greeting. The day before the two had plotted on ways to avoid this day.

"Cool? Yucch, we gotta open our Valentines boxes, and I know I'm going to get some mushy ones from some girls, like Lisa." The big event was supposed to have been on Friday, but it had stormed and the school had been closed. The boys had three days to dread over what had become an annual torture in their elementary school.

"Yeah, but we all will with that dumb rule we gotta give every single person a Valentine, not just those we like."

"I know in language we're gonna have to write some dumb love stuff or something, and probably read some dumb poems."

"Whoa, wait a minute," the driver said, holding up a beefy hand as he shifted his two-hundred-and-seventy pound [122 kg] mass around to face the prepubescent boy.

"Well, duh, yesterday was Valentine's Day, you know," sassed Bobby. He and Mr. Blackburn never did get along. Actually, Bobby didn't hesitate to sass any of his teachers, or any other adult for that matter, including his parents. As far as he was concerned all adults were shitheads put on earth to ruin his fun.

"The school board doesn't allow you to bring bows and arrows onto a bus," the driver said as he stared down the nine-year-old. He was a cute looking boy with high cheek bones, dark brown hair with shaved sides and permed top, and a fine nose and mouth, but the driver knew there was nothing sweet about him. He had plenty of run-ins with this particular spoiled little brat. At the moment he was staring down the forty-year-old with an insolent smirk on his face.

"Ok," Bobby suddenly said cheerfully as he turned around. "You'll tell Miss Ellis our drama teacher why I'm not there with the props for the play."

Bobby stopped and smiled, his back still turned to the bus driver. He was so dumb.

"Well, duh, thank you," Bobby responded as he stepped into the bus. "Dumb fat asshole," he muttered as he took his seat, loud enough to be heard but mumbled so as to leave doubt what he had said.

The driver glared at him with his pig-like eyes, knowing there was nothing he could do. His double chins wobbled as he shook his head. Some day the arrogant little brat would get what was coming to him.

As the bus continued on its route, the boys talked to their friends about what they had done for the weekend and groused about having to go to school. Benny, Bobby's eleven-year-old brother, who was a slightly older version of his younger brother both physically and in character, copied his history assignment in return for a chocolate bar from one of the geeks in his class. Why waste your valuable time when you can use someone else's was his motto.

As the students began to file out the bus at the school, they could hear Ol' Foghorn bellowing for the students to stop loitering and to go right into the school. Most bus monitors just stood there in the cold and pretended to be supervising the bus unloading. Ol' Foghorn made a miliary exercise out of it, and every kid on the buses hated him for it. A smile crossed Bobby's face and he grabbed Aaron's arm and held him back as he called to his brothers, Benny and the thirteen-year-old twins, Brent and Brett.

"Mr. Fog I mean Mister West," Bobby began, purposefully making the slip to irritate the teacher. "Mr. Blackburn would like to talk to you."

As he stepped into the bus, Bobby quickly took out two of the red tipped arrows. Striking Mr. West in the back, he aimed between his legs to strike Mr. Blackburn in the calf. The arrows immediately dissolved, and the two men felt a strange sensation flow through their bodies.

"You wished to speak to me?" Mr. West asked. The rotund forty-year-old bus driver looked very soft and cuddlesome. As he thought about the fat driver's humongous backside, he began to get an erection. He shook his head. This was crazy. He was a happily married man who had never thought sexually about another man for even a moment.

"No," replied Mr. Blackburn. He had never noticed how muscular the man was until now. His eyes dropped to the thirty-five-year-old teacher's crotch. Nor had he noticed how well hung he was. The obese driver had envied slim men all his life, and he had always been curious how he stacked up compared to how other men were hung, especially muscular studs. Today for some strange reason he felt an ache deep inside his body that he normally had for buxom young women, but at the moment it was for the hunky teacher standing before him.

"Oh," said Mr. West with disappointment. Jesus, he had not felt this horny since he was a virgin teenager trying to make out with any girl he could. He stepped into the bus as if his legs were controlled by someone else.

The two men looked at each other hungrily. Unable to restrain themselves, they embraced and kissed hotly. As they separated, Mr. Blackburn reached for the lever to close the bus doors and they kissed again. Neither man noticed Bobby had jammed his math book between the doors, the only time he had ever used the book for anything. After waiting a minute, he slowly forced the doors open, and he, Aaron and his brothers peeked inside. The two men were not to be seen. Quietly slipping onto the bus and peeking around the front seat, the boys spotted the men several seats down.

They watched in wide-eyed amusement as the monitor excitedly pulled down the fat driver's pants and boxers and turned him around, revealing his fat, white ass. It had to be at least two feet [60 cm] across and was spotted with red pimples. As Blackburn knelt on the floor and lay across the bus seat, West dropped his pants and underwear, revealing a very hard seven-inch [18 cm] cock. The five boys glanced at each other with wide grins, and as they turned their attention back to the two adults, they automatically slipped their hands in their jeans pockets and squeezed the rapidly growing flesh between their legs.

Spitting in his hand and smearing the spittle over his cockhead, West stepped up to the driver and placed the tip of his cock against his anus. The two men grunted and strained but they were horny as hell and even though this was their first time, they soon united. As West sunk his cock up the older man's ass with a sigh, the fat driver groaned with the pleasure. The five boys glanced at each other and grinned impishly.

Neither man had ever felt this horny, and West pumped his hips to and fro desperately, slapping his big, hairy balls against the driver's pimply backside. Blackburn was getting the shit fucked out of him by the teacher, and loving every second of it. Neither man had ever had sex with another man before, and each was amazed at how hot they were and how good it felt. It was not long before West was pumping his semen up the driver's hot hole and Blackburn was spraying the leather bus seat with his. Hearing the warning bell, the boys slipped out the bus, and holding their backpacks in front of them to hide the bulges in the crotches of their jeans, they ran into the school. This was going to be one hot day!

The first two periods were language, and as Aaron had predicted, after working on their journals and doing a few grammar worksheets, out came the readers and Mrs. Ferguson, the boys' grade four teacher, told them they would be reading some sonnets from a group called the romantic poets. The girls of course all smiled and sat up with full attention, and the boys all groaned and rolled their eyes. Bobby asked to leave the room.

"You know the rules, Bobby," Mrs. Ferguson reminded him, immediately growing tense. As far as she was concerned, he was spoiled rotten and she was sure he was behind ninety percent of the mischief that occurred in the classroom, from the frog in her desk to the dog crap that had been smeared on her chair and which she had not noticed until too late.

"Oh, very well," she gave in, seeing the stifled smiles on the faces of most of the boys and knowing that he would not let up until he got his way.

Bobby headed straight down to the principal's office. Unfortunately for him, Mr. Bayer was in a meeting. Bobby thought quickly and asked for the vice-principal, Miss Spillars.

Miss Spillars followed Bobby back to the grade four classroom. This was most unusual. Mrs. Ferguson was an excellent teacher, and rarely called on the office for assistance. Even more unusual was to send Bobby Brewster. Everyone in the school, including herself, was counting the years before he'd be in junior high and out of their faces. As she opened the door and stepped into the room, Bobby aimed for her backside and let loose with one of his arrows. Still hidden by the door from the rest of the class, he quickly took another arrow and shot it at Mrs. Ferguson.

"Ah, no," Mrs. Ferguson replied, looking at the slim, flat-chested vice-principal curiously as she felt a desire begin to well up in her loins that she only felt on the hottest of romantic evenings with her husband.

"Oh," said the spinster vice-principal, suddenly feeling an itch where she had long ago stopped feeling itches.

"What made you think so?" the teacher asked, feeling a strange attraction as she stepped up to the other woman.

"Hmm," said Agnes Ferguson as she thought. "I suspect this is a ploy of his to interrupt the lesson." If she did not know it was impossible, she'd also suspect him of having somehow caused the immense discomfort she was feeling between her legs. She was feeling even more aroused than she had after her romantic Valentine's dinner with her husband last night.

"Yes, he is special," said the now flushed teacher with a smile. God she needed some satisfaction soon, and for some strange reason she had visions of her long time colleague providing that satisfaction.

As the spinster wrapped her arm about the short, stocky woman to help her, she felt a rush pass through her loins. Why was she feeling this way? Even more mysterious, why was she feeling this way toward another woman? Motioning for Aaron to join him, Bobby and his buddy followed the two teachers to the infirmary.

"Possibly. I have this itch, well, you know where, that is about to drive me insane if I don't do something about it."

The two women looked at each other, and immediately lunged for each other. Practically ripping off May Spillars' jacket and blouse, Agnes Ferguson quickly undid her bra and began to fondle and caress her small, round tits. She sighed with the pleasure, up until that moment having had to pleasure herself that way. The vice principal meanwhile had unbuttoned Agnes' dress and she had stepped out of it. Soon her bra was on the floor too and May began to caress and squeeze her ample flesh, causing her nipples to become firm.

They were far too occupied to notice the door slowly open and the two prepubescent boys slip into the room. Soon the two women were pushing down each other's slips and panties. Although both were in their late forties, they were not bad looking, and both boys noticed Agnes Ferguson had great tits. Bobby and Aaron watched intently as the women began to rub each other's hairy pussies, and as they slowly inserted their fingers and began to masturbate each other. The two women were groaning now with the pleasure, and they pressed their heaving chests against each other as their fingers worked in and out of their hot, grasping holes. Bobby nudged Aaron and winked. This was turning out to be even better than his plan to have the principal fucking her. Pulling out their stiff little dinks and beginning to stroke them, the boys settled back to watch, knowing that poetry was now out of the question.

When the recess bell rang, the two women were cuddled up on the infirmary bed and kissing as their sticky fingers fondled each other's breasts. Their hot swollen cunts glistened with cunt juice and they were still breathing heavily from the hot time they had just had. The boys slipped out for recess.

Meeting up with Benny, Bobby agreed to let him have the arrows for a while and they talked about whom they might use them on. Noticing Blackburn's bus still parked in front of the school, Bobby, Benny and Aaron slipped in to see what was going on. The bus driver, his pants and shorts about his ankles, was laying on the floor with his back to them. His fat, wide hips touched the seats on either side of them as they slowly rose and fell. At first the three boys could not see Mr. West until Benny spotted his legs between Blackburn's. The teacher's ass was getting a good pounding from the horny bus driver. The heated bus was filled with the odour of spilt semen, and the boys wondered how many times the two sex-crazed men had come so far.

The odour and the sight of the two humping men made Benny's young boy dick spring to attention and he was tempted to pull it out and stick it up the fat driver's rump. In fact he decided he'd slip around to the back of the school for a quick smoke and give that consideration. Crouching down behind the dumpster where he would not be seen, he pulled the crushed cigarette out of his sock where he had hidden it that morning and lit up. Inhaling deeply and blowing out the smoke, he felt a quiver run down his spine. Shit, that felt good.

Benny almost crapped his pants as he leaped up. There glaring at him was the school janitor, Sven Bjornson, his bushy black eyebrows bristling and his big black moustache quivering.

"Wanna drag?" Benny asked as he handed the sixty-year-old caretaker the cigarette.

Sven Bjornson was not amused. Grabbing Benny by the collar of his coat, he half carried and half dragged the eleven-year-old into the school and down to the principal's office. As Bjornson began explaining to Mr Bayer what he'd caught the young "whipper snapper" doing, Benny carefully slipped an arrow out of the quiver and stuck the blabbering janitor with it. As he recited the list of other offenses he had caught this particular youngster committing, including writing obscenities in the boy's bathroom in permanent ink and plugging the toilets with paper towelling, urges that he suppressed when at school slowly began to surface.

The janitor's heavy, Swedish accent was difficult to understand under normal circumstances, and even more so when he became angry. Today it was even worse, and the principal noticed as he ranted and raved that his mind seemed to be losing its concentration. Bjornson was also looking at him very strangely. Finally the man paused and seemed to be debating something in his mind.

Shrugging, Mr Bayer told Benny to return to class and he'd deal with him later. Getting up out of his chair, he followed the caretaker to the furnace room. The moment they entered, Bjornson grabbed him and pushed him up against the wall.

"Shut your smart mouth up," the caretaker snapped, his voice husky and his eyes having a lustful, crazed look like Bayer had seen on psychotics in the movies. Turning Bayer around and throwing him against the wall, he spread out the principal's arms and tied his wrists to pegs on the wall. Quickly undoing the man's belt and pulling down his fly, he yanked his pants and underwear down and drew them off over his shoes.

"Bjornson!" Bayer called out, frightened now as the older man spread his legs and lashed his feet to pipes running along the floor.

"Call out all you vant. I vant you to call out. No vone vill hear you. The valls of the furnace room are insulated."

Sven Bjornson had imagined this scene many times. Deep down he resented Principal Bayer. Now he did not mind people of authority if they used their authority properly. In fact, he admired such people. Principal Bayer was not one of those people. He ordered everyone around as if they were his personal servants, even if they were twenty years older than he was, and when he ordered them around there was that look of smug superiority always in the younger man's eyes, and a tone in his voice as if he found it distasteful to be talking to you.

He was also a wimp of a man. Bjornson had brought him hundreds of students who had vandalized his building, and what had the principal done? Nothing. He either did not think it important, or he did not have the balls to do anything about it.

Bjornson smiled. Well, he did have balls. The janitor reached over and wrapped his fingers about them. Of course Bayer struggled and protested. A quick squeeze stopped that. Still holding his balls tightly, Bjornson caressed the man's ass and ran a finger up along his ass crack. The men were too occupied to notice the eleven-year-old boy slip into the room.

For years Bjornson had imagined how he would show the educated man what a man did who was in charge, a man who was not afraid to take control over others. For years he imagined how he'd get even for the slights he had endured. He had planned this day over hours of delightful jerk off sessions as he devised torture after torture during his lonely evenings. Now the day had arrived. What had happened to make him decide to change his fantasies into realities he did not know. He just suddenly looked at the smug toad sitting there tolerating him and already deciding not punish the insolent boy he had brought to him, and a lust and rage more powerful than anything he had ever felt had filled his mind.

Taking out a toilet plunger, he greased the handle and approached the man with an evil grin. Bayer tensed as he warned the man not to proceed, and he cried out as he felt the wooden handle cruelly ram up his rectum. Working it in and out furiously, the caretaker reached around and began to fondle the captive man's cock and balls. The pleasure in his groin countered the pain he was feeling up his ass and the disgust he was feeling in his heart. His mind sorted the feelings and the pleasure won out. He slowly became erect despite the other feelings.

Bjornson himself had gotten an erection, eight inches [20 cm] of heavily veined cock, which he now pulled out his coveralls. Withdrawing the plunger, he greased up his pole and slammed it into the principal. As he began to fuck his ass, he reached around with his greasy fingers and slid them up along the man's chest under his white shirt. He began to pinch his nipples, making them burn and grow hard with the pain. This felt even better than he had imagined, and he felt like he could fuck all day.

Benny crouched behind the furnaces watching in satisfied amusement as he pulled down his fly and took out his stiff little pecker. He had never heard of sadism or masochism, but he knew the principal was in pain and the janitor was enjoying inflicting it. He also knew he was enjoying watching it as his fist rapidly began pumping his three-inch [7½ cm] boner.

Listening to Principal Bayer screaming as Bjornson began to pluck at his chest hairs, Benny took in every detail so he could tell his brothers later. Who knows where they might be able to use what he was learning? As ripples of pleasure passed over his little organ, he grinned with the thought that this was the first thing of any value he'd learned in school in the seven years he had been going.

Meanwhile, Bobby was amusing himself by scratching his name and every obscenity he knew into his wooden desk. Mrs. Ferguson had not shown up for the mathematics lesson, and Bobby and Aaron had a pretty good idea she was not going to. They, along with the rest of the class, enjoyed the two period spare. After lunch in the cafeteria, the two boys headed out to the playground to look for Benny and find out what he had been up to.

Benny rolled his eyes. It was Wally, the school bully. Wally was fourteen and attended the junior high next door.

"Hey, keep your hands off," Benny said, drawing away. That was a mistake. You never talked to Wally that way.

He dodged the bully for his first few attempts to grab him, but he knew he was not going to be able to avoid him forever. He had to think fast.

"All right, you can see them," he announced. Taking out one of the red tipped arrows, he concentrated on his idea and handed it to Wally. He had no idea if this was going to work, but he could hope.

"Oh, fuck!" Wally cried out, jerking back as the tip of the arrow scratched his hand. "You stupid moron."

"Oh, sorry," Benny apologized. The arrow had disappeared the moment it had pierced Wally's skin.

Wally looked at him, and then got a strange look on his face. He stepped toward Benny, shook his head a couple times, squinted his eyes as he thought, and then turned and headed into the junior high. Although elementary kids were not allowed into the building, Benny and Bobby slipped in through the doors with their two older brothers and followed the boy. He headed straight for the washroom. While he talked to another boy at the urinals, the four brothers slipped into the first stall before they were noticed. Wally and the other boy entered the adjacent cubicle.

As the brothers concentrated, they heard a zipper being pulled down, followed by the rustling of clothes and then very loud slurping and sucking sounds. One by one they peeked over the partition. Wally was sitting on the toilet and eagerly sucking the other boy. Benny smiled. Having just thought about Wally hungry for cock without any particular boy in mind had worked. Soon the boy was grunting and gasping as he shot his load, and Wally eagerly swallowed it. As soon as he left, Benny went into the cubicle, his little penis ready for another dry orgasm.

"Hear you got this real urge for sucking cock," he said with a grin as he stepped up to the bully.

Wally did not even question how he knew or why he was there in the junior high. He just saw that delicious, three inch [7½ cm] bone and had to have it in his mouth. Benny grinned up at his brothers looking over the partition as the fourteen-year-old went down on him. Wally had no idea why he was doing this. All he knew was that he had to have cock, and that it tasted great. As Benny was quivering and gasping with his orgasm, the outer door to the bathroom opened and one of the grade seven boys came in. As soon as Benny stepped out of the cubicle and gave the boy a knowing smile, the other boy stepped in.

Leaving the bow and arrow with their teenage brothers who were waiting in line, Benny and Bobby slipped out of the can and managed to get back to their school before the afternoon bell rang. Mrs. Ferguson was back, looking very refreshed, and social studies class and science classes went by without an incident.

Meanwhile, the twins were doing their share of matchmaking. There was William, the skinny honour student with thick glasses and Joe, the football jock, paired up in one of the stalls in the north end boy's bathroom. Debbie, the big-boobed cheerleader was under the stairwell being humped by Derek, the pimple-faced computer geek who never in his dreams thought he'd lose his virginity, never mind to a gorgeous girl like her. Erika and Judy, who thought they were real hot stuff and who had snubbed the twins on several occasions, suddenly found they had the hots for each other and were sixty-nining in the girl's washroom.

"Do you think if I told Harris I slipped on the snow and hurt my leg he'd let me out of doing laps?" asked Brent as he changed into his gym strip.

"Doubt it," replied his twin brother Brett. Their physical education teacher began each class with four laps around the gym and then pushups, something neither boy was fond of.

Slipping into the storage room and closing the door so it was only open a crack, Brett waited until everyone was in the gym. Taking out his first arrow, he concentrated and aimed at the young teacher, and then as rapidly as he could, at each of his grade eight classmates, except his brother of course.

The twenty-four-year-old jock was first of all shocked at the thought that entered his mind, and then at the feeling that was developing in his groin. It was a powerful temptation, and he began to sweat as he fought it. He was their teacher, and an adult besides. What he was thinking was wrong according to everything he had been told. As he glanced about at the lean, healthy young teens surrounding him, the ache became so bad he wanted to scream.

Each of the twenty thirteen and fourteen year olds were naturally horny, and the arrows pushed them over the edge. They had to get their nuts off, and they did not care if it was a male or a female that got them off, as long as it was now. Several of them began to walk toward the teacher. He was young, he was hunky, and they were horny. As Mike Harris saw them approaching, and saw the look in their eyes and the tenting out of their gym shorts, he could not resist any longer.

Taking out one of the tumbling mats, Mr. Harris dropped his sweat pants and his boxers and lay down on his stomach. Billy Graham was the first, pushing down his gym shorts and briefs and pulling out his stiff fourteen-year-old cock. Someone had thought to get the jar of Vaseline out of the first aide chest and he eagerly greased up his hot, slender five inches [12½ cm]. Nineteen boys crowded around, all with the same thought, all clutching their crotches as they watched Billy slip his cock up their teacher's ass and begin to fuck him. The two thirteen-year-old brothers high fived as they took out their four inch [10 cm] erections and waited their turn.

Twenty boys and eighty minutes later, the physical education teacher's lust finally began to subside. With at least half of the boys having fucked him twice, he had thirty loads of juicy teen cum up his ass and had sprayed his stomach and the tumbling mat three times himself. As the boys headed for the showers, he could not figure out what had happened, but this was going to be a day to remember.

As the four brothers climbed into the bus at the end of the day, they could not help but notice the wide grin on Blackburn's face. This was a day the bus driver was never going to forget either. Actually, it was a day that many were not going to forget. Arriving at home, the boys went straight to their room and opened the closet door.

"Well, dude," Bobby said with a grin as he undid the gag. "Had a great day at school."

"Hey, I looked after your stuff good," Bobby said defensively as he reached in to untie the cherub.

"Ow, damn," the little god cursed as one of the arrows pricked his backside. "Oh no," he groaned as he realized what had happened. "Which type was it, gold or red?"

Cupid looked at the four mischievous boys looking back at him. They were fine-looking youngsters. The two youngest had dark features, not unlike Apollo. The twins, with their fine, shoulder-long blond hair, blue eyes, small bones and delicate features looked like cherubs themselves, young horny cherubs. His eyes glazed over and he leered at the boys suggestively. "Before you untie me," he began, and four pairs of hands eagerly reached for him 3;

(3) 4 April 1999
The Brewster Boys' Easter

This is a story involving four brothers, two preteens and two thirteen-year-olds, tying up a sixteen-year-old boy and using him for their sexual gratification

If you don't believe in bondage, the Easter Bunny, or that young boys have sexual urges, don't read this.
Chocolates, Easter eggs, and Easter bouquets can be sent to J.O. Dickingson at authorsix(at)hotmail(dot)com

— Mtb – coerc oral anal mast —
6,000 words (12 pages)

Barry and Brenda Brewster looked at their four boys sitting in the pew between them and beamed with a pride that is common to all parents. Nine-year-old Bobby and his eleven-year-old brother Benny sat closest to their father. The boys' dark brown hair with shaved sides and permed top didn't have a strand out of place. Their hazel eyes, high cheek bones, and finely featured nose and mouth gave them the appearance of little naked Renaissance angels that the classical artists painted at the feet of lovers and hovering in the air with big white wings and strategically placed legs to hide what would prove they were little boys. Beside them sat their twin brothers, thirteen-year-old Brent and Brett. Just as the two younger boys had inherited their father's handsomeness, so had the twins inherited their mother's beauty. With fine, shoulder-long blond hair, freshly shampooed and curled for this special Sunday, deep blue eyes, and their mother's delicate looks, they would have been easily mistaken for two adolescent girls. All four youngsters sat quietly, hands folded in their laps, eyes staring intently to the front, evidently enraptured by the minister's sermon.

On either side of the Brewster family, and in the pews behind them, friends, neighbours, and relatives wondered what was going on in those four young minds. Spoiled rotten delinquents, mischievous little devils, foulmouthed brats, malicious pranksters, and a number of other descriptors that would not be appropriately voiced in a church were among the epithets that they had for these four youngsters, and every one of them could list off plenty of examples to prove their point.

Reverend Bentley, accompanied by the two altar boys, stepped behind the Eucharist table. Reaching forward, he opened the ornate, gold-trimmed tabernacle. A belch of foul, yellow-black smoke erupted from the ancient wooden box and quickly began to spread through the church, the stench of rotten eggs causing eyes to tear and even the stoutest to want to retch. The church was quickly evacuated. The congregation stood about in clusters in the parking lot, dabbing at tearing eyes, coughing and sputtering, and cursing the lowlife that would plant a stink bomb in such a hallowed location, on such a sacred day. Although nobody would ever know how the stink bomb had been placed in the tabernacle, or how it had been set up to be triggered when the ancient relic was unlocked, they all had a very good idea who the culprits were. Well, all the parishioners except Mr. and Mrs. Brewster.

"Someone planted a stink bomb," explained Mister Brewster, while behind his back, Brett mouthed silently, 'the minister farted'.

"That is not funny," observed their mother, thinking they were laughing about the stink bomb. "Everyone got especially dressed up today." Behind her back, Brent added silently, 'especially Cheryl', referring to their buxom, sixteen-year-old neighbour whom the boys watched getting ready for bed through her open window whenever they were bored. "Today is a very holy day besides."

"Whoever would do such a sinful thing?" Brent asked incredulously with wide-eyed wonder, and his three brothers "tsk-tsked" and shook their heads seriously and piously. As their parents glanced around the parking lot the boys grinned at each other and high-fived and then quickly looked about at the parishioners innocently.

"Guess they'll just have to start the Easter Egg hunt early," said Bobby sadly as his eyes sparkled.

"No, I don't think so," said their father. "They will still be getting everything ready. It isn't supposed to start until after the sermon."

"You mean we're going to have to wait anyway?" asked Bobby, frowning with disappointment.

The expression meant nothing to his parents, but it was not lost on his three brothers, nor on several of the men standing nearby.

One of the men opened his mouth to comment, but then thought better of it and closed it. If he reprimanded the boys their parents would only come to their defence, and if he brought his accusation to the parents they would claim he had a dirty mind and that the expressions the boys used were purely innocent. The four youngsters wandered off by themselves.

"Okay, Mother. We won't," the four joined in politely. The four were wearing black dress pants, neatly pressed, highly polished shoes, and white shirts, quite different from their ususal blue jeans, sneakers, and T-shirts emblazoned with warriors or suggestive sayings. They slipped behind the church and Benny took out a cigarette from his sock. Lighting it up, he inhaled deeply and blew it out through his nose and then handed the cigarette to Bobby. His younger brother also took a deep drag and exhaled the smoke through his mouth with evidently great pleasure before passing it on to his twin brothers. When they finished the cigarette, they snubbed it out on the side of the church. Rubbing grass on their hands and sniffing them to be sure they had masked the smell, they popped a peppermint in their mouths and returned to the congregation.

The crowd began to drift over to Murray Park and to gather in front of the temporary stage the church had set up. The church Youth Group was on the stage, several playing guitars and the others singing gospel music and Christian pop songs to keep the crowd entertained. The only ones who really listened were the older adults and a few of the younger members of the congregation who were totally committed to the church. The Brewster boys scuffed their toes in the grass and yawned and looked about impatiently.

"Hey," whispered Bobby as he nudged Benny in the ribs, "look'it the fuckin' big rabbit."

Reverend Bentley, having run to the manse to wash and change, was hurrying across the grass accompanied by a large, fluffy, pink bunny carrying a basket of carrots. The two of them climbed up on the stage, Reverend Bentley needing some help as the portly minister was out of breath, and the bunny because it was difficult to see and move in the bulky costume.

As the reverend began a speech on what the true meaning of Easter was, and how sponsoring an Easter Egg hunt and having the presence of the Easter bunny wasn't sacrilege, but really reinforced the concepts of family and Christian values, everyone listened politely. They all knew that really it was a crass attempt by the church to lure families with young children to the services that day in the hopes of increasing Church coffers, besides hoping to entice some new members to join the congregation. The Brewster boys did not pay much attention until the reverend began to thank the sponsors of the event and announced that scattered throughout the park were over a thousand chocolate Easter eggs, and twelve plastic eggs, representing the 12 disciples. Each plastic egg had a number which corresponded to a prize, anything from a bike to a laminated picture of Jesus, and the children were reminded that a person was only allowed to have one such egg.

With that, the Bunny raised his hands and announced that the hunt was on. As the kids all headed out in search of the chocolate eggs and the twelve prize eggs, the Brewster boys headed over to the bunny.

"Wow, never seen a bunny as big as you," observed Bobby. As the mascot patted him on the head, he gave the bunny's rump a pinch. Even through the thick costume the boy inside could feel it, but he had no idea which of the four youngsters crowding around him was responsible.

"You one of those Playboy bunnies I've heard about?" asked Brett mischievously with a twinkle in his eye as he tried to peer inside the bunny's mouth to see who was really inside.

"Maybe he's Peter Cottontail," suggested Benny. Before the boy could answer, Benny groped him between the legs. "Nope, can't be. Can't feel no peter," he giggled.

Sixteen-year-old Cole Bentley opened his mouth to reprimand the boy for his actions and for his unhealthy thoughts. Before he could speak, Bobby squatted down and slipped between his legs.

"Hey, the bunny's got nothing between his legs. He's not a girl or a boy," he observed.

"Aww, poor bunny," said Brent. "Hey, here, have my chocolate chip cookie, it will make you feel better." Before the boy could reply Brent had shoved the cookie in the mouth of the bunny suit. Unable to use his hands for holding, he had no choice but to grab the cookie with his teeth. He swallowed desperately as Brent stuffed the monster cookie in his mouth.

"Hey, we better get looking for those fuckin' eggs," observed Bobby, and the boys took off as suddenly as they had approached the hapless Bunny.

"Why'd you give him the cookie? I thought we were going to give it to that dumb, boring Reverend Bentley?"

"I didn't know they were going to have someone dressed as the Easter Bunny here. He's gonna be a lot more fun."

The boys giggled and high-fived. As they reached the edge of the park, they retrieved the baskets they had hidden there the night before and went charging about the field. They were not so stupid as to try to hunt for the little foil-wrapped eggs. The boys had come up with a much easier way of collecting the chocolate treats. Spotting a little six-year-old with a half-full basket, Benny accidentally collided with him, sending the kid's basket of chocolates flying. Then in the pretext of helping him pick them up, he added a handful of the kid's eggs to his own basket, at the same time swapping a few of his specially-prepared eggs from a plastic bag in his basket so the kid wouldn't notice any difference in amount he had. His three brothers were doing the same, picking victims who would be too shy to put up a fuss, or too dumb to notice the swap. Gradually they got rid of their specially-prepared eggs in the plastic bags and filled their baskets with purloined chocolate eggs.

As they all gathered again in front of the stage, the pink bunny was swaying and hopping in time to the music. Actually, young Cole Bentley was itching with the worst case of hots he had ever had. He figured it had to be the hot, sweaty bunny outfit. His nuts were cooking and the glans of his penis was itching like it had never itched before. It hadn't even itched this badly the day Becky Cadwell had arrived at school braless. He tried to concentrate on the gospel music, and then on his father preaching from the pulpit, two things that usually worked when Satan tried to tempt him, but neither were working this time. As he saw the Brewster boys approaching him, he grimaced. That was all that he needed.

The second oldest boy had to use that phrase. It was still hanging, but it was only by his strong will.

He looked at the twin who had spoken. He never could keep them apart. Why ask that? There was no way anyone could tell how he was feeling in the getup he had on. From the leer on the boy's face, he appeared to know he was feeling randy, but that was totally impossible.

The kid had to mean because of the suit. He was too young to know the other meaning of the word 'hot'.

As Cole stared at the youngest of the four boys, they giggled and took off. Cole was shocked by the nine-year-old's language. Although raised in a very religious household, Cole was no prude, but even the most vulgar boy he knew didn't swear as casually as did that youngster. He was also shocked by the comment. Had the boy said that because he knew something, or just because he was in a bunny outfit and rabbits were known for their reproductive tendencies? As he watched the boys dashing across the lawn, he shifted from foot to foot, wishing that the itch in his dick head would stop. Closing his eyes and inhaling deeply, he counted his blessings. At least in the outfit he had on he would not be able to succumb to Satan's temptation and commit the unpardonable sin of touching himself.

Reverend Bentley stepped up to the mike and announced it was time to give away the prizes. Cole joined him on the stage, welcoming any distraction to get his mind out of his pants. The twelve children who had found plastic eggs were asked to come up on the stage. Somehow nobody was particularly surprised when all four Brewster boys stepped forward. Two children were frantically emptying their pockets and searching their candy bags, wondering how they could possibly have lost the precious plastic eggs they had found. Two others were standing by sadly, having made that discovery earlier in the afternoon.

Some of the other children were making discoveries also as they removed the foil from their chocolate eggs and popped the treats in their mouth. Scattered throughout the crowd youngsters were sporadically sputtering and spitting and gasping for air, having bitten into eggs filled with hot sauce. From their vantage point on the stage the Brewster boys watched those with whom they had swapped eggs and grinned knowingly at each other. It had taken a lot of time and many trials to inject the little hollow chocolate eggs with hot sauce and then wrap them back up in their colourful tinfoil wrapping, but the scene before them made it all worthwhile. Benny smiled as he watched the cute six-year-old he had collided with suddenly gag. The boy's eyes flew wide open as a combination of chocolate, spittle and hot sauce spewed out of his sweet rosy lips and dribbled down his cute chin.

Having all lined up, each child on the stage presented their plastic egg and as the number inside was revealed, the prize with the corresponding number was found and handed to the child. As Brent presented his egg with the number 3, the minister reached for the boxed set of bible stories, figuring that was a most suitable turn of events. To his surprise, the number on the set was a 6. Searching for the 3, he found it on the ten speed bike. Now that he knew was impossible. He had specifically numbered the bike 10, the day of his birthday, and he knew the bible story set was numbered 3 after the trinity. Regardless, there were the numbers, and there was nothing he could do about it.

Brett walked off with the Back Street Boys CD, Benny with a coupon for a pair of Adidas runners, and Bobby with the Hanson Brothers CD. Reverend Bentley was sure none of those were the numbers assigned, and found it suspicious that four of the major prizes and not one of the bible story sets, laminated pictures of Jesus, or the bible colouring books had gone to the four boys. He knew that the numbers had been tampered with, and he knew the boys had done it, but there was no way he could prove it. How they had managed to do so with the prizes all in plain view and with the band there on the stage the whole time was a mystery.

Several members of the congregation began to organize the kids and families into groups for the games that had been planned, sack races, ring toss, relay races, face painting, and dodge ball, all good family fun. The four Brewster boys had set up their own game at the edge of the park, egg painting for only ten cents. Things went slowly until six-year-old Garret came by. He had only recently painted eggs in school and had found it great fun, but unfortunately he did not have ten cents. The boys took him into the bushes, and pushing down his pants and underwear, Bobby showed the six-year-old boy another meaning for eggs. Garret thought the bright yellow, blue and red stripped right 'egg' and the gold left 'egg' with the name 'Bobby' on it was really funny. The boys told him they would do his eggs for free if he'd go around and show the other kids and get them to come over with money. He readily agreed and was soon running from friend to friend to show off his tiny testicles, one with spirals and lightning bolts, and the other with a batman emblem.

Gradually one and then another came by with his coin. Their parents would have been horrified had they found out what they were paying ten cents for. Some of the teenagers that were hanging around bored out of their skulls found out about the Brewster boys' initiative and thought it was a real hoot, especially watching each other get painted. By the end of the hour set aside for games there were at least two dozen boys sporting brightly coloured eggs. What none of them knew was that whereas the pens they had seen had all said washable ink, the pens that the boys had really used were permanent. It was going to take a lot of scrubbing and several days before the boys would forget this event, and for the older ones who had to shower for swim or gym classes this moment's lapse in discretion was going to be a major cause for embarrassment.

Everyone was quite happy to see the Easter festivities close so they could go home and relax, but nobody was as happy as Cole Bentley. For the past hour he had been out of his mind with desire. He wanted to rip his costume open and wank off right then and there, and he would have readily humped the first girl that happened by if he'd had the chance. While the congregation was dismantling the stage, he began cutting across the park, anxious to get home and to get out of the costume. There had to be something in the fabric that had caused him to itch so. He could not wait to shower, and he knew he'd have to use just the cold water tap the way he was feeling or he would surely abuse himself.

"Hey, Mister Easter Bunny," called one of the twins. Cole grimaced. He did not want to have more to do with these boys. "Come quick. My brother's fallen down in the bushes."

Cole looked at him suspiciously. "Hurry," the boy said urgently. "He might have broken his leg." Despite his own need, Cole hurried after him. They dashed down the well-worn path and into the maze of paths that wove through the bushes in the ravine that ran along the edge of the park. Hundreds of children had explored those paths over the years, himself included. He finally spotted the other twin laying on the grass in a secluded alcove. He hurried over without even wondering where the other boys were.

Cole quickly found out. He had no sooner gotten to the other twin when the boy leaped to his feet and the other two emerged from the bushes. Cole was immediately surrounded by the four boys.

The boys all danced around him, poking and punching at him and twisting him around. It was not easy to manoeuver in the padded costume. One of them slipped a rope around his wrist and threw the rope over a branch overhead. The mouth slit in the costume that was used for seeing out of limited his vision. His other hand was tied to the other end of the rope so his arms were spread apart. Soon his feet were tied to trees on either side of him so that they too were spread apart.

"This," said Benny with a grin as he groped the boy. Even through the thick costume of fake fur Cole could feel the boy's hands on his groin. His aching penis responded immediately.

Benny found the zipper to the suit and pulled it down. The hot air that had been trapped inside billowed out.

The zipper went from the neck of the costume to about the boy's navel. Reaching inside, Benny unbuckled Cole's belt and unzipped his fly. The boy squirmed and objected, but there was nothing he could do. Pushing Cole's jeans and underwear down as far as he could, Benny stepped aside as one of the twins approached with a knife. Carefully measuring the appropriate locations, Brett cut a hole in the front of the suit and one just under the bunny tail. Leaving his pants and underwear pushed down, the boys did the zipper back up. Slipping his fingers though the tiny slit in front, Benny fished about until he found the boy's semierect penis. He drew it, and then his testicles, through the tiny hole. Once they had been pulled through, it was impossible for them to be retracted through the tiny slit.

The pens were brought out and the four boys set to work. Soon the pink bunny was sporting two very bright eggs. One had been coloured the seven rainbow colours, the gay pride symbol unbeknownst to the boys. The other was coloured white and then had dots and spirals of red, yellow and blue. One of the twins began to massage the boy's cock. Feeling as horny he did, he became fully erect in under a minute. Talking the orange marker, Brent set to work. Soon the bunny had a very hard and very odd shaped carrot sticking out above his eggs.

The other twin went around behind the hapless boy and cutting out a T shape, exposed the teenager's bare butt. He immediately began to massage it, ignoring the boy's protests. Slicking up his middle finger with spit, he inserted it up the boy's rectum. Cole groaned, in part in protest, in part with delight. Nobody had ever done that to him before, and he knew it had to be a sin, but it sent a wonderful feeling through his chemically-tortured body. Brett finger fucked the hot, horny boy and eventually the teenager began to work his hips to and fro as he felt his prostate being massaged. He could not help it. God, he had to get off a load worse than he had ever needed to before. The need was killing him, and he had no cold shower he could jump into to help him fight the temptation now. Taking a shoe lace out of his highly polished shoe, Benny tied it tightly below the boy's knob, preventing him from coming.

By this time Brett had an erection. Unzipping his black slacks and pulling out his stiff four- inch [10 cm] cock, he spit on it and then stepped up behind the teenager. Grasping the pink bunny by the hips, he pushed his cock into the boy. Cole protested as he felt the slender organ enter him. This was obscene. This was a sin. This was a dirty, filthy thing.

That was not what Brett was thinking as he worked his hips to and fro, enjoying the warmth of the boy's tight ass surrounding his hard little cock. Grasping the furry, pink bunny by the hips, he eased his cock in and out of the hot, moist hole. Having discovered the joys of butt fucking not that long ago, he delighted in the sensations that were assaulting his body and his mind. He also knew this was a virgin asshole, and that made it feel all the better. As he stood there in his Sunday best fucking the shit out of the Easter Bunny, he closed his eyes with the pleasure and his long, blond hair bounced in time with the rhythm of his pumping hips.

Cole shuddered as he felt the boy's little organ working in and out of his body. This was a totally new experience for the sixteen-year-old boy. Of course he knew some people did this sort of thing, but it was not something he had ever even considered doing. He certainly had not considered having it done to him by a thirteen-year-old boy. Being a typical, healthy teenager, he had sexual urges though, and those urges were maximized by the aphrodisiac he had ingested. He had to get off a load, and it felt so good having his asshole massaged by the boy's little woodie. Shocked by such thoughts, Cole closed his eyes and tried to recite psalms, but it did no good. He could not block out the pleasure rippling through his rectum or the need aching in his cockhead.

When Brett finally paused, Cole took over, working his hips to and fro, riding the boy's little cock. Cole was desperate. He had no idea what had come over him. Nothing like this had ever happened before. He had not even thought about having sex with another male, never mind a young boy. Such an idea was totally foreign to him. Now he had to do it.

Brett had to have sex too, for totally different reasons. He had to have it because had found out just how awesome doing it with guys was. Once he had found out, he had to have more, a lot more. He let the teenager work his hot tight ass to and fro, allowing him to do the work while he stood there and enjoyed the benefits. Butt fucking was still very new to him, and it was awesome. It was not long before he was pumping his boy juice into the furry, pink bunny.

As he felt the boy coming up his ass, Cole cried out. The boy had shot his seed up his rectum. This was a filthy, degenerate act. It was forbidden by Jesus, an act that condemned him to hell. Even so, as he felt the thirteen-year-old coming, Cole ached for the same release with even greater desperation. Benny knelt before him and began to lick his orange knob and the boys laughed and asked if it tasted like a carrot. For the randy sixteen-year-old teenager it felt fantastic. Cole squirmed and jerked his hips, begging the boys to let him cum.

Bobby, who had taken his cock out of his dress pants and had been tugging on the little erection while he had watched his brother fucking the pink bunny, stepped up and stuck his little three inch [7½ cm] up the butt now slick with his brother's cum. Bobby began to work his hips to and fro, pushing hard against the furry, warm bunny to drive his little member in as far as it could go, and holding onto the bunny's hips as he withdrew. Bobby could not yet ejaculate, but he could feel good, and at the moment he felt very good. He worked his stiff little cock in and out of the boy's slick hole, enjoying the fact that his little tool was covered with his brother's cumm, and enjoying the tingling sensation rippling through his irritated little flesh.

Cole bucked and jerked uncontrollably as the realization that the two young boys had reached the goal he could not. Benny's hot tongue licking his irritated organ did not help. Bobby and Benny traded places. While Bobby delighted in making the pink Bunny's orange carrot bob and jerk with his tongue, his brother delighted in the warmth and moisture of the bunny's tight ass. Like his younger brother, he found it erotic to be working his cock in and out of the tight hole lubed by his older brother's cum. Also like his younger brother, it was not long before the eleven-year-old was trembling and gasping with his dry orgasm also.

Brent was last. Stepping up behind the bunny, he inserted his cock, identical to Brett's in every detail, up the teenager's ravaged hole. He fucked the bunny slowly, enjoying both the sensation and his domination over the boy. He really was not sure which he enjoyed more. Of course feeling the hot, moist asshole grasping at his stiff, irritated cock was awesome. Knowing that he had gotten the sixteen-year-old randy, and that he was forcing the holier-than-thou teen to perform an act he found degenerate and disgusting but at the same time erotic was even more awesome. All the hot little blond boy could conclude was that life was wonderful. Before long he was adding his boy cum to the hapless teenager's butt.

After he had withdrawn and tucked his limp organ back in his pants and underwear, the boy took one of the carrots from the basket on the ground and carefully inserted it up Cole's ass. He worked it in and out a few times, much to the amusement of his brothers, and then finally withdrew it, slimy now with his and his brother's cum, and offered it to the bunny.

"Naw, when we get there, we're gonna rule it," laughed Brent and the others laughed too. "You know your balls are going to bust open if you don't get a load off soon."

Cole had to admit they felt that way. They were aching, badly, and his dick head felt like it was on fire.

Yielding to temptation and his desperate need, Cole took a nibble of the carrot. Seeing his chance, Brent shoved the slimy carrot in another two inches [5 cm]. The bitter taste of cum and the sour taste of his anus assaulted his tastebuds. He had no choice but to swallow what he had chewed. No longer mattering, he bit into the carrot and began to chew the perverse snack. He had to get off, and if he ate fast the taste was not really that noticeable. His orange-painted erection ached in anticipation of what the boys had promised. He would seek God's forgiveness later for what he was about to do.

The four boys laughed and made obscene comments as he ate the carrot that had just been up his ass with seeming eagerness. Cole flushed with embarrassment, glad that at least they could not see his face in the bunny costume. As Cole swallowed the last of the carrot, Bobby undid the shoelace as Brett inserted another carrot up the helpless boy's ass. As Brett began drawing the carrot in and out of his rectum, Cole's cock jerked each time the carrot hit his prostate. He had been wanting to come all afternoon, and in less than a minute he spurted, sending his cum shooting across the clearing. The boys cheered and giggled at the sight of his stiff, squirting orange-coloured cock jerking wildly in the air, his ropes of cum flying about in all directions.

By this time the boys were randy again. Pushing down his dress slacks and white jockey briefs, Bobby was the first to fuck the sixteen-year-old boy's ass a second time. The nine-year- old closed his eyes with pleasure and worked his little organ in and out its full length, pressing his naked lower torso against the furry costume with each forward thrust. He was so grateful his older brothers had taught him this pleasure. By the time Bobby was shivering with his dry orgasm, Cole was erect. They tied the shoelace about his orange organ one more time.

Benny was next, and like his younger brother he had dropped his pants and underwear, his little stiffie jutting up above his tiny, hairless balls in eager anticipation. Burying it up the teenager's hot hole, he paused for a moment to enjoy the heat and warmth of the boy's anus before beginning to hump him. With his cherubic smile and beautiful face, he still looked like a Renaissance angel, a very horny one. By the time Benny was grunting with his orgasm Cole was aching to get off a second load.

By this time the twins had stripped off their Sunday clothes, revealing that they were identical right down to the fine blond hairs on their adolescent pubes. Brett eased his stiff cock up the familiar chute once again, and as he began to slowly fuck the captive boy, his twin brother knelt before him and began to fondle his painted testicles and tickle the glans of his painted cock. He ran his tongue along the length of the irritated organ, and tickled the quivering slit with the tip of his tongue. Cole shivered and gasped in painful pleasure as the one blond teased his irritated cock and the other filled his asshole once again with his hot cum.

The twins switched positions, and while Brett slipped his thin, soft lips over the top half of Cole's engorged knob and sucked on it, Brent slipped his stiff cock up Cole's cum-slick hole. His naked body began the familiar swaying motion, and he closed his eyes and smiled as his long, blond hair bounced about his shoulders and pleasure rippled up from his groin. When he filled the teenager's butt with his cum a second time, he uttered a soft moan of pleasure, his lips parted in ecstasy.

The boys put on their clothes once more, being careful not to get them dirty as they had promised their mother. Bobby plugged Cole's asshole with a fresh carrot, and reaching in the T- slit cut in his bunny costume, pulled the boy's underwear up just enough to hold the carrot in place.

Cole was about to ask them to at least jack him off, but he bit his lower lip and forced himself to remain silent. No matter how badly he wanted it, to give in to his basic need was a sin. The boys were out of sight in a matter of seconds. Cole began to struggle with his bonds, but soon discovered that it was useless. Closing his eyes, he began to recite every hymn he knew as he waited for the boys' return.

After a full meal, the Brewster brothers went up to their room to play some Nintendo and munch on their chocolate goodies and listen to their new CD's. It had been a very full, and a very rewarding day, one of the best Easter Sundays yet. Their stomachs distended and their sexual needs fulfilled, the boys turned in early and were soon sound asleep, dreaming pleasant dreams. They had totally forgotten about Cole.

What the brothers did not know, was that the park, a favourite playground for children and families by day, was a favourite playground for men at night. Murray Park was one of the most heavily used gay cruise areas of the city. There in the light of a full moon, several men had already found the pink teenage bunny. By that time the minister's son was so desperate for satisfaction, he was willing to agree to anything. For hot, randy, young Cole Bentley, this was going to be one Easter Sunday he would never forget either.

(4) 4 July 1999
A Brewster July 4

This is a story involving four brothers, two preteens and two thirteen-year-olds, engaging in various sexual acts with a seventeen-year-old distant cousin, including domination and cum control. It is posted at gay adult story sites for adult entertainment only.

If you don't believe that young boys have sexual urges, or aren't turned on by a handsome, muscular Scottish boy in a kilt, don't read this. Permission is not given to copy electronically nor in any other form for the purpose of redistribution. This is the fourth of the Brewster Boys Series. Comments, haggis, Independence Day cake or cute high school marching band boys (kilts optional) can be sent to the author, J.O. Dickingson at authorsix(at)hotmail(dot)com

— Mt tb – coerc oral anal mast — bond
13,000 words (26 pages)

"Oh, my, I can't believe it," said Brenda Brewster, staring at the letter she had been reading.

"What can't you believe?" asked her husband Barry as he looked up from his newspaper.

Brett Brewster's blue eyes sparkled as he mouthed behind his hand, 'I'm pregnant', causing his three brothers to giggle. The thirteen-year-old twin's fine, blond, shoulder-long hair bounced as he tossed his head back and grinned. Having his mother's delicate looks and small bones, the four-foot-nine [1.45 m], ninety-pound [40 kg] teenager looked more like a girl than a boy, but like his three brothers he had his father's mischievous personality, and like any teenager who had recently reached puberty, he had raging hormones.

"Boys," began his father, about to reprimand them for the hundredth time that week for whispering and giggling when others were trying to talk.

"What can't you believe, Mom?" asked Brett's twin brother Brent, distracting his father's attention from Brett.

"Yeah, what can't you believe?" asked eleven-year-old Benny, helping out his older brother.

"Something good I hope," said the youngest boy, Bobby, doing his part. The four boys had perfected a routine to distract their parents that had become second nature to them.

The four boys grinned, not because it was wonderful news, but because their ploy to avoid a lecture had succeeded. Usually when an adult had good news the boys found it was a stretch to see what was good about it.

"Our high school band is having an exchange with the Eastwood High School from Capelrig."

It was Benny who responded silently this time. 'Whoop-de-do,' he mouthed as he spun his index finger in the air. The eleven-year-old's hazel eyes sparkled and his lips curled into a devilish grin. With his high cheek bones and his dark brown hair, shaved on the sides and permed on top, the four-foot-five [1.32 m], seventy-four-pound [33½ kg] boy charmed women and made boylovers' hearts flutter just looking at him. His grin added to his sexy looks and caused a flutter much lower down in the case of the male admirers.

'Whoop-de-do,' Benny and Brent mouthed together, causing Bobby and Brett to giggle.

"Wow," said Brett, a gleam in his eyes as he glanced at his brothers. Bobby snorted trying not to laugh, sending a burst of snot out of his nostrils and causing his three brothers to almost roll off their chairs in amusement.

"Hey, maybe you can tell us what this is about," suggested Benny, causing the four boys to burst into another round of laughter.

"You boys need to get outside and run off some of that energy," advised their father.

"Hey, let's see if Cheryl will come play with us," suggested Bobby, referring to their neighbour's stacked sixteen-year-old daughter.

Mr. Brewster did not catch the sexual reference, his son only being nine, but the three boys all knew what Bobby meant, and all four felt a stirring in their pants as they thought of the possibilities. If she wasn't willing, there was her seven-year-old brother.

"Anyway, the band will be here on a week-long tour. Mom has told Rhoda that we live here and they are hoping we can billet him for the week. His band is going to play in our July 4 parade!"

"Well of course we will billet him," said Mr. Brewster. "It would be great for you boys to meet one of your relatives from Scotland."

"Why, of course they do," said Mrs. Brewster with a smile. "This is going to be wonderful."

"Yeah, way cool," said Brent, usually the one who knew the right thing to say at the right time. "So how old is third cousin Gordie?"

"Well, I'm not sure," replied his mother. "Let's see, Rhoda's daughter was married in 19. 3; Well, let's see, it was two years after her brother, so. 3; "

His three brothers shrugged. That pretty much summed up their opinion of the event. They headed for the park to see if there was anyone around for an impromptu baseball game or maybe a jerk circle and forgot about the conversation. Even as their mother fussed about being sure the house was spotless and worried what third cousin Gordie might think, and even with the daily reminders by both parents that they had to be on the best behaviour so they made a good impression on Gordie to take back to the relatives in Scotland, the boys didn't really think about it. Even the afternoon they drove to the high school to meet the band being bussed in from the airport six weeks later it was a nonevent as far as the boys were concerned.

As the bus pulled into the parking lot and the boys began to disembark, the Brewster boys were disappointed. The boys from Scotland looked no different from any other senior high students, and like most elementary and junior high students, senior high students were not exactly on their list of favourite creatures. The boys from Scotland even wore the same type of clothes.

The band teacher from the high school began calling out one at a time the names of the boys from Scotland and the names of the families who were billeting them. The Brewster family watched as one by one the boys and families were paired up. "Gordie McGregor and Barry and Brenda Brewster."

A handsome, lanky boy standing at five-foot-eleven [1.80 m] and weighing a hundred-and-forty-five pounds [66 kg] stepped forward. The teenager had rough-hewn features and the narrow jaw line shadow of a boy who had recently begun to shave, a thick mop of curly brown hair, thick eyebrows, steel grey eyes, and the Brewster's high cheek bones. His earthy, down-home appearance combined with his handsome, youthful looks was the stuff that romance novels were based on and that made teenage girls swoon.

"Ah figurrrred ye tae be the Brrrrewsters," he said in his heavy Scottish brogue as he extended his hand first to Mr. Brewster, and then to his wife.

"Well now, it wisnae thit harrrd. Nae many grrrroups here wi fourrrr wee bairns."

The boys smiled back. At last, a high school student who understood how they felt, and stuck up for them in front of adults besides! If that was how all boys from Scotland were, they were going to be all for moving to Scotland when third cousin Gordie returned.

"Well, I think we all are excited. It is a delight to finally have a relative from Scotland visit us," said Brenda Brewster.

"N it is barry tae be herrrre ma'am, sirrrr," Gordie replied politely with a slight nod to Mrs Brewster, and then to her husband.

Mister and Mrs Brewster exchanged glances. Having Gordie around just might have a positive influence on their boys. Heavens knows they needed it.

All the way home the boys studied Gordie until finally he asked why they were staring at him.

"Well, Ah suppose thit shouldnae be a surprise," said Gordie. "Many ancestors ay Amerrrrricans came fae Scotland ye know."

"Yeah. For independence and freedom and to start a new life and because of poverty and all that stuff."

"Sae, ye ken aboot ur history," Gordie commented. "In Scotland history n tradition arrre verrrry important. The folks back in Scotland will be glad tae hear the Brewster clan feels the same wae."

The entire Brewster clan smiled. Having Gordie visit just might be a great experience.

"Of course we don't have anywhere near the history Scotland does," observed Brent, figuring it was a good opportunity to stock up on a few Brownie points.

"Billy Hollis can trace his roots back to before they were blond," observed Brett, referring to a friend of theirs who had recently dyed his hair, and the boys giggled.

"Well, it's wonderful you coming here to share in our history by marching in the Independence Day parade," observed Mrs. Brewster as she shot Brett a warning glance.

"Aye, it will be a barry experience fir shairrrr," Gordie said as they loaded his luggage in the trunk and piled into the station wagon.

"Oh, that. Yeah, I never met nobody before who could roll his arse," said Bobby with a grin.

"Well it isnae thit ah dinnae want tae, but it isnae thit simple," said Gordie. "Ah dinnae ken if Ah can teach ye."

They all laughed, even Gordie. "Well, ur Amerrrrican accents sound as strange tae ma earrrrs," he observed with a smile.

"Tell us about Scotland," interrupted Mrs. Brewster, sensing an upcoming argument.

The rest of the day was spent with Gordie filling in the family on the comings and goings of the McGregor and Brewster families living in Scotland until Mrs. Brewster announced it was time to eat. Supper was the first of several surprises she had planned for her boys for the week.

"What's kippes and crisps?" asked Benny, picking up one of the thin, oval slices of potato and nibbling on it.

"Thit is a crisp," explained Gordie. "N kippes arrrrre salted n smoked herring."

Bobby knew from the tone this was not a time for joking and he kept his mouth shut. He would have preferred keeping it shut for the entire meal, and it was only under duress that he picked at his kippes. If it were not for the crisps, the four Brewster boys might have starved that evening. After supper they looked at family pictures and Gordie entertained them with a few selections on the bagpipes, which he even allowed the four boys to try.

"That sounded terrible," commented Mrs. Brewster after Brent's third attempt produced a skin-crawling squeal.

'Sounded just like when ol'Bjornson shoved that plunger up Bayer's butt,' whispered Benny to his brothers, referring to the incident he'd witnessed between the school caretaker and the school principal the day after Valentines Day.

'He never has a shortage of air up there.' His brothers giggled and Brett made a farting noise with his lips.

"Ma Dad sez thit a wee tap tae a young-un's behind can gae a long wae," Gordie advised with a smile. Like Brent, he knew when to make Brownie points.

'So can this,' mouthed Brett to the amusement of his brothers as he gave Gordie the finger when his parents and Gordie were not looking.

The next morning the boys had two surprises. The first was a heaping bowl of steaming oatmeal set before each of them instead of their usual bowl of Sugar Pops or Frosted Flakes. That was the first of many traditional Scottish meals their mother had planned in honour of their guest. The second surprise was their guest himself. Gordie arrived in his full band uniform: Prince Charlie jacket and vest, kilt, plaid hose and flashes, and shiny black Ghillie Brogues.

"My, don't you look fine," complemented Mrs. Brewster. The seventeen-year-old did cut a dashing figure.

"Don't it feel weird wearing a kilt?" asked Bobby. "Isn't it sortta like wearing a skirt?"

"Ahhh, nae," Gordie replied, and then glancing at Mr. Brewster, he added, "it gies a mon a sense ay freedom if ye'd really like tae know."

Mr. Brewster and Gordie looked at each other and then smiled. "Well," said Mr. Brewster, "you are a little young yet to know about such things." Being told that was a double mistake. Having a secret and being told they were too young simply made them all the more curious and all the more determined to find out what their father meant. After asking a dozen times in a dozen different ways, he finally relented and told them. The boys knew if they kept at their parents long enough, they usually gave in.

The knowledge that Gordie was not wearing underwear was too enticing, and the boys immediately began wondering how they might catch a glimpse, or better yet, grab a feel, under his kilt. When he returned from touring with the band and they waited for supper, they tried every way they could think of for him to bend over, stretch or otherwise expose himself, all to no avail.

The evening meal, appropriate for the gray, rainy day it was, proved to be much more interesting than the herring.

"What type of soup is this?" asked Benny, always reluctant to try new foods and even more suspicious after the previous evening.

"So this is what a leek tastes like," observed Brett, causing Bobby to spray a mouth of soup across the table.

"Yeah me too. Can I have more COCK-aleekie?" asked Brent, helping to distract their dad.

"So your mother make lots of COCK-a-LEEKie?" Brett asked Gordie, adding his contribution.

Bobby just made a loud, slurping sound and then glanced up at his brothers. He was the mirror image of his brother Benny, only sixteen pounds [7 kg] lighter and three inch [7½ cm] shorter. Making another loud sucking noise, he grinned impishly at his brothers as they turned red trying not to laugh.

The bannock, a flat cake of barley, that their mother had also prepared didn't receive any attention at all. After supper they listened to Gordie's replay of the day's tour and the boys occupied the time trying to look under his kilt and trying to grab a feel without being obvious. The thoughts and frequent attempts had the obvious effect on the boys, but being oblivious to their sexuality, their parents did not notice the bulges in their jeans. The boys left the room frequently to go to the bathroom to satisfy their urges, but being young, they were up again almost as soon as they returned to the room and continued their antics.

"Benny, that's your third time you've had to go to the bathroom," observed Brenda Brewster.

'Makes you grab your cock and take a leekie,' whispered Brent, and Brett and Bobby snickered.

"Boys, you've been told how impolite it is to whisper," reminded their father. He had lost count how many times.

It was all that Mister and Mrs Brewster could do not to say, "see, your cousin knows." They were not, however, that type of parent. They simply glanced at him and smiled their appreciation for his support. There were quite a few things very likeable about the boy, and his upbringing and attitude about manners were definitely two of them.

The four Brewster boys were very much aware of Gordie's intentions, having used the ploy themselves many times to gain favour when they needed it. Although they understood, and even admired him for doing it, it was at their expense, and that he was going to have to pay for. Their third cousin was interesting and even fun sometimes for a high school student, but there were some things that were unforgivable. What he'd just done was one of them. For now, they just looked down at the floor contritely. Gordie's time would come. They did not know it, but that time would be the next day.

The next day was Independence Day. It started with a very un-American breakfast: drop scones, supposedly a type of pancake although the boys could not see the similarity. Then, while Gordie, dressed in his Eastwood High School Scottish Pipe Band uniform, joined his classmates, the Brewster clan staked out a site along the parade route. It was a typical Fourth of July parade with marching bands and colourful floats, clowns and guys dressed in hot sweaty mascot costumes, old cars with honoured old timers and flashy cars with dignitaries and politicians. Gordie looked very smart in his uniform and the band played well.

Following the parade they went to Centennial Park where the Kinsmen were providing hotdogs and McDonalds was providing the juice for lunch. The do-gooder social types had organized games for some good old-fashioned family fun for the afternoon. The Brewster adults had run into some friends and had retired to the shade for a few beers and reminiscing.

"Now boys, I didn't say that and you know I didn't mean that," said their father. "What I meant was you five can go do something together while we adults talk."

The boys opened their mouths but found they could not argue with their father's statement. That did not happen often. They headed across the lawn.

"Oh, I thought maybe you had a thing for storks or something," said Bobby and his three brothers laughed and gave him high-fives.

"Thit's nae the type ay thing fir a wee bairn tae be saying," admonished Gordie.

"Ye should nae be making fun ay a mon's kilt," Gordie reprimanded. "The kilt has a long history tae be proud ay. Besides, bairns as auld as ye shouldnae be talking aboot homosexuals n such things."

The boys rolled their eyes, a habit of their mother's. "What should young children be talking about?"

"Here, this looks like grrrrand fun, n something ye lads should be good at," commented Gordie.

The boys knew there was no arguing. They got in the sacs and made a half-hearted effort to enjoy the races.

Brent, near the front, turned and purposefully got in the way of several who were ahead of his twin brother. "Nash?" he asked.

Gordie had to think for a second, his face turning red with frustration. "Hurry!" he finally explained.

"Oh," said Brent as he turned and continued hopping, by which time almost everyone had passed him but he'd given his brother the lead.

"Hey face painting," observed Brent, and the boys all thought back to Easter and the fun they'd had with painting back then.

Gordie sat down and the boys got to work on him, the twins on each cheek, Benny on his forehead, and Bobby on his chin. They were done in a suspiciously quick time. They stopped to play tag, but soon were chased along when the four boys insisted on tagging below the belt, and were accused of doing more than just tagging. Of course all four claimed innocence. Giving in to Gordie, they joined in with the crafts, but when the boys began a game of who could make the loudest armpit fart noises, ending with a particularly loud and impressive thunder which odour quickly revealed to have been made for real, they were chased along again.

Gordie had during this time noticed a lot of people staring at him. At first he just thought it was his band uniform, but then he began to notice a pattern in their reactions. The older people looked shocked and many of the children and teens snickered. A couple college-age boys gave him the thumbs up and said "way to go". Finally at one of the booths selling crafts he caught a glimpse of his face in the shiny glass of a painting. His cheeks had large pink triangles painted by the two twins, the corners of his mouth and his chin had a dribble of white paint, and on his forehead was printed "The Fag".

On the way to the washroom the boys could not resist tripping up a man entertaining everyone on stilts. After Gordie had washed the paint off his face, they paused at the magic show but were soon asked to leave as the boys commented on how poorly the tricks were being performed and speculated on how they were done. The raw egg on a spoon race began well until the judge, a fat lady in a print flowered dress, sat down and discovered someone had left an egg on her chair. The juggler was also doing fine until Bobby pointed out, mistakenly he later claimed, that his fly was down. Gordie had never known boys who could get into so much trouble and yet have a good excuse for everything that happened. He was certainly glad when they finally rejoined the boys' parents for a picnic supper.

Mrs. Brewster had brought cold ham and potato salad and they bought hot corn on the cob from a vender and had apple pie for desert. The boys had expected somehow their mother would have packed a Scottish picnic, and were delighted to have two meals in a row that were completely American. The four boys totally stuffed themselves. Giant slabs of sponge cake decorated like a flag had been prepared by the organizers of the outing and everyone was given a square. To their parents' surprise, the boys decided to save their pieces for later.

After their picnic, the boys tried to get away on their own, but their parents were not so easily escaped. To Gordie's dismay, they had four-and-a-half more hours to go before the day concluded with the traditional fireworks display, and the adults wanted to spend it without their boys. Considering their mischievousness, Gordie could understand why.

Gordie thought better of it, but he did have to go badly, and Benny was right, it was a long way to the bathrooms. Allowing the boys to guide him, he was taken to a far corner of the park and deep into the bushes, a spot that had fond Easter memories for the boys.

Arriving at a clearing, the boys surrounded him and waited patiently for him to finally reveal his claim to masculinity. He actually looked very handsome in his bear skin cap, Prince Charlie Jacket and vest, and plaid kilt. Even the boys thought the tasselled fur sporran, large shiny school badge and gold-coloured kilt pin, white hose and bright blue and green hose flashes, and black leather Ghillie Brogues made him look really sharp.

"Well, ye dinnae need tae starrrre," Gordie said as he reached under his kilt. "Ah dinnae huv anything ye boys dinnae huv urselves."

Three of the boys suddenly leaped on Gordie, catching him by surprise and knocking him to the ground. Bobby ran to the nearby bushes and quickly returned with the rope that had been used for marking off the races. During one of their frequent trips to the bathroom during the evening picnic they had stolen the rope and hidden it in the bushes for this very moment. The four boys quickly tied Gordie up, throwing the rope over a low branch and tying his ankles and raising his legs and butt so his feet were above his head. They finished the job by tying his arms to his ankles.

"We're going to show you some real good old-fashioned American fun," replied Benny as he began to unbutton the Prince Charlie jacket and vest.

The seventeen-year-old did have an impressive mat of curly brown hair across the top of his broad, muscular chest. It continued as a band down the centre of his midriff to the elastic band of his kilt. In the position they had trussed him up, his kilt had fallen open, revealing his genitals, and his ass, and both were considerably hairy in their own rights.

"C'mon, we just wanna show you how we boys in America have some fun," replied Brent, giving into temptation and reaching for the boy's exposed genitals. He ran his fingertips over the two large, wrinkled sacs.

"Okay," said Brent agreeably as he slipped his hands up to the base of the boy's inverted limp cock. Holding it between his thumb and first two fingers, he began to wag the flaccid tube.

Ignoring his cousin, Brent gently caressed the tip with the tip of his finger, just barely touching it.

"Go ahead," Brent teased, aiming the bound boy's cock at his mouth and tugging on it.

"Hey, I got an idea," said Bobby. He ran to the bushes and returned with a large discarded Slurpee container. "You can piss in this."

"Un-un, it's in the container, or in the mouth, that's it. So which one will it be?" asked Brent menacingly as he ran his fingertip lightly over the sensitive tip again.

"Awright, awright!" gasped Gordie as he squirmed and tightly squeezed shut his sphincter muscle in a desperate attempt to hold back the dam that was about to burst.

Brent aimed the boy's hose at the discarded Slurpee cup but between his unusual and susceptible position and being watched by the four boys, the seventeen-year-old found it impossible to empty his bladder. Once again Brent began to gently tickle his peehole and Gordie trembled as the tingling sensation passed over his dick head and down his ureter.

Between the boys' urging and the stimulation of his peehole, Gordie finally felt his urine begin to flow through the core of his cock A second later it streamed out of the tip and into the Slurpee container. The boys laughed at the hollow ringing and then bubbling as he began to fill the container and they joked what would happen if it was not large enough to hold all his bladder had contained. Gordie cringed with the fear and thought of his urine overflowing the container and splashing in his face and trickling down to soak in his band uniform. He did have to go very badly.

Brent further teased the tortured boy by pretending to fumble with the container and almost drop it. Gordie held his breath as the sound of the plasticized cup being filled became less hollow as he emptied his bladder. To Gordie's relief, he finished before the Slurpee container was filled. Waiting until his flow ceased, Brent put the container down and then shook the boy's penis, impishly splattering his face and chest with his warm droplets. Brent continued to shake and to tug on his penis long after he'd dislodged any excess urine.

"Stop?" asked Brent as he tugged faster on the boy's penis. "Fuck, I'm just beginning."

"Ye shouldnae be playing wi a mon's knob," admonished Gordie, "or saying such a bad word. Proper boys would nivir dae sich a thing."

"Who ever said we was proper boys?" asked Benny with a giggle, causing his brothers to laugh give him high-fives.

Gordie tensed as Brent's hold was replaced by Bobby's hot little hand. The nine-year-old pulled down on Gordie's limp cock, stretching it as far as he could. Returning it to its normal position, he began to draw the boy's foreskin toward the base. Gradually the teenager's dark purplish head peeked out of the ring of skin.

"How come his cock is so different from ours?" Bobby asked as he continued to push the skin down the shaft of his victim's cock.

"Cool," observed Bobby, watching carefully as he continued to push the skin down until he finally revealed the teenager's purplish knob.

The boys undid the chain strap, releasing the fur pouch. They ran it gently over his cockhead and his balls, and then the inside of his thighs. Gordie squirmed and trembled with the erotic stimulation. His cock slowly began to swell.

Gordie could do nothing as his body slowly responded to the stimulation. He knew voicing his objection would only fall on deaf ears. Finally his seven-and-a-half inches [19 cm] of solid Scottish cock was sticking straight out from his body.

The one-and-a-half inch [4 cm] diameter cock was the thickest cock the boys had seen in their young life. The boys crowded in closer.

"Wow," the boys chorused as he slid out a short, sharp dagger with a thistle-shaped handle.

"Pit thit doon! It is called a sgian dhub. It's part ay the tradition ay the kilt."

"So, what we gonna do now?" asked Bobby, anxious for some fun as always. The sight of the horny, erect, seventeen-year-old boy had gotten him erect too, and his brothers were well on the way to becoming aroused.

"I wanna sit on his hairy chest with my bare bum and get sucked off," said Bobby as he drew his tank top off over his head, revealing the nine-year-old's skinny chest and even narrower waist.

"Oh," said Bobby, slipping off his Nike runners and socks and pushing down his blue jeans. "That don't matter."

"It'd be more fun sitting on your chest bare butt," said Bobby, pushing down his white briefs and revealing a stiff little three-inch [7½ cm] boner jutting up in the air like an obscene little flag.

"What dae ye think yer daein pushing doon ur keks?" Gordie asked, staring at the nine- year-old's little cocklet. He had no idea a boy that young could get erect.

"Yer nae auld enough tae be daein this. Now pit yer keks back oan this instant!"

"Nae! Where dae ye git sich ideas?" Gordie replied with disgust. "Yer only a sprog."

"A sprog," he replied as he thought desperately, which was not easy with the naked youngster standing there fiddling with himself . "A child."

"Yeah, well, I'm a horny sprog," Bobby replied. "So you going to suck my dick or not?"

"I hear a wee tap oan a young-un's backside can gae a long wae," observed Bobby and his brothers chortled.

He delivered a solid, loud slap to the teenager's exposed, naked butt. It smarted, but Gordie was not going to admit that the little nine-year-old had caused any pain. His pride simply resulted in Bobby delivering him an even harder slap. The boys laughed at the reddish palm print left on the teenager's buttock. Benny stepped up and slapped the other side as Bobby continued to spank the right buttock. Gordie could not help but wince as the boys delivered blow after blow.

The twins took over and Gordie winced and jerked as between them the four brothers brought his tender buttocks to a rosy glow. They felt hotter than any sunburn the boy had ever experienced and as they continued he could not help but cry out with the pain as each boy slapped his now tingling, burning arse.

"Oh yeah?" asked Bobby as he sat on the boy's chest. He squirmed and wiggled his tiny, naked butt. "That feels so weird," he observed. "Instead of sucking my cock, you can drink your pee then. Give me the container."

Brent readily handed him the Slurpee container, purposefully splashing a bit of the now lukewarm liquid on the bound teenager's arm.

"Drinkie drinkie," grinned Bobby as he held the container to Gordie's lips and prepared to tip it.

Gordie stared in horror at the yellow fluid beginning to bulge at the edge. He had no doubt Benny was right. "Awright, awright, stop!"

"Way cool!" Bobby handed the container to his brother and snugged up to Gordie's head. The teenager reluctantly opened his mouth and Bobby eagerly slipped his little pricklet in. Gordie closed his lips and began to suck, as he knew he'd have to sooner or later anyway. He figured the sooner he did this the sooner it would be over. After all, the child would probably be bored in a matter of minutes. A moment later he felt something very wet and hot pressing against his anus.

"Choc-box? Hey, cool word!" said Brent. "But you're wrong. I can stick it up your choc-boy, and then I'm gonna really roll your arse."

"Nae! Stop!" Gordie called out as he felt the youngster's cock press against his opening.

Brent did not stop, and Gordie shivered as he felt the youngster's spit-slickened cockhead force apart his sphincter and begin to enter him. "Shite, Brent stop thit now! Aggh, ye dirty wee wanker!"

"I'll stop alright, but not until I've filled your asshole with my cum," Brent promised.

The conversation ended there. Brent and Bobby began to concentrate on the feelings passing through them, and Brett and Benny concentrated on watching their two brothers as they also began to strip. Gordie was too occupied trying to deal with the fact he was being raped by his two cousins, both of whom were, in his opinion, far too young to be having such knowledge let alone be doing such a thing.

Bobby slid his bare butt back and forth along Gordie's furry chest, delighting in the new sensation of having his butt being tickled by course chest hair, and by the more familiar sensation of having a pair of lips and a hot, moist mouth tugging on his stiff little pricklet. Ever since he'd discovered the pleasure rubbing his butthole and rubbing his penis could bring three years ago he had pleasured himself almost nightly, but whenever he had the chance, he much preferred others do it for him.

Brent eased his cock in and out of his cousin's hot, moist hole. From the way it gripped on his little four inch [10 cm] prober and from its tightness, he had to assume that Gordie had never had his ass screwed before, and being the first got the thirteen-year-old all the more aroused. He had been horny for most of the day, and finally having an opportunity to relieve that need with his hapless, captured cousin, he did not waste any time. He worked his stiff, hot little cock in and out of Gordie's asshole rapidly, enjoying the sensations rippling through his cockmeat. His only goal was to get himself off.

Gordie could not believe what was happening to him. He could not get over children so young knowing about such things, and even more shocking, doing such things. He himself had certainly not known about sex when he was the age of Bobby, or even Benny, and even at the age of the twins he had never engaged in any form of sex other than jacking himself while he thought about girls. He'd never thought about boys. He certainly had never thought about sucking on a little preteener's hot, thin cock, or of having a naked thirteen-year-old boy fucking his ass. Both were equally perverted, but there was nothing that he could do about it. To his amazement, he actually was feeling a little excitement and more than a little pleasure being stuck by two hot boy cocks despite the fact that he had never considered having sex with another male in all his life.

Being so horny, it was not long before nine-year-old Bobby was trembling and groaning with his dry orgasm. Only seconds after Bobby had begun, Brent grunted and shoved his hips forward with more force than usual as he felt his stuff begin to surge up his little cock. Burying his little four inch [10 cm] cocklet up Gordie's asshole, he began to spasm as his juice squirted deep into the seventeen-year-old's rectum.

From the responses of the two boys, Gordie knew that they were climaxing. Although he knew he should be feeling disgusted having a hot, throbbing cock deep in his rectum giving him a very unusual enema, and having a throbbing little boy cock in his mouth, Gordie was instead beginning to feel the need to get his own balls off. As his two cousins finally eased their irritated organs out of his body, he wondered how that could be.

Bobby and Brent had no sooner gotten off their cousin than Benny and Brett advanced with leers and stiff cocks ready. Gordie looked at one, and then the other randy Brewster.

"Oh Gawd, nae mair," sighed the ravished teenager as Benny knelt behind him and Brett sat on his chest and waved his erect four inches [10 cm] in his face. Gordie's cock jerked and ached between his legs, demanding the same satisfaction as he was about to provide his two cousins. The four boys watched his cock jerking wildly for a moment, and then Bobby grabbed it with his hot little hands and began to jerk it. Within seconds a clear droplet of precum oozed from the slit. Bobby carefully touched the tip of his cousin's huge cock with the tip of his index finger and scooping up his precum, smeared it over Benny's knob.

"A little lubrication to help you brother," he said with a grin as he raised his finger to his lips and slipped his mouth over the tip to suck it clean.

"Hey thanks, bro," said Benny as he prepared to penetrate his seventeen-year-old cousin.

"Wait a minute," said Brent. He took the laces out of Gordie's boots and tied one tight around the base of the boy's twitching cock, and the second tight around his nuts. "We got almost four hours left," he said with a grin.

Benny knelt again behind his cousin's hairy ass and took his little three-inch [7½ cm] stiffie in his hand. His asshole having been penetrated by Brett's thicker and longer cock and already slick with the teenager's cum, the seventeen-year-old youth was easily penetrated by his eleven-year- old cousin. He grimaced as he felt a desperate ache in his loins and the boy's hot, slender pricklet slide up his hole. Never had he had such a need to ejaculate. Benny waited as his brother shuffled up to Gordie's face and guided his four inch [10 cm] cock into the older boy's mouth. Gordie knew he had no choice but to do as was expected of him as he parted his lips. There was no doubt in his mind that his perverted little cousins would make him drink his own urine if he put up an objection. He was even not so sure they still wouldn't when they were done.

As he began to suck on the thirteen-year-old boy's hot, stiff little cock, he felt Benny begin to pump in and out of his asshole. The physical sensation of having the boy's little cock easing in and out of his cum-slick butthole, and of having the young, slender pricklet of his other cousin in his mouth, combined with the thought that he was being raped a second time by his other two cousins caused his own cock to jerk and ache for release. The reaction of his body to this mental and physical abuse was surprising, and disturbing to the teenager. He was no Nancy-boy, but there was no question his body was enjoying what was happening to it. His full erection was proof.

Benny humped his cousin with youthful enthusiasm, enjoying the heat and tightness of the older boy's asshole, and enjoying the slickness provided by his brother's cum. He could not wait until he too would be able to produce the stuff, but for now he was content to enjoy his brother's. The feelings passing through his little cocklet and his mind were awesome, and he could only imagine how much more awesome it must be to produce cum. Soon the thoughts and the physical stimulation had the youngster panting and sighing with his approaching orgasm.

Brett, on the other hand, knew very well what it was like to cum, and he squirmed and sighed also as he felt himself approaching that peak. The hot moist mouth of his cousin sucking on his boyhood was awesome, and he ached to reward him with a shot of his sweet boycum. It was not a long wait. He was soon inhaling and exhaling deeply and slowly as he forced himself to hold back until he could keep back the flood no longer. With a mighty cry of pleasure he closed his eyes and trembled uncontrollably as his juices rose up his cock and squirted into his cousin's mouth. Gordie had no choice but to accept the unique offering.

At the same time Benny began to tremble with his dry orgasm. With waves of pleasure rippling through his body, he grasped his cousin's hips and grunted as he plunged his cock into the teenager's rectum. Between the orgasm of his two cousins and the physical stimulation of two throbbing cocks in his body, Gordie was aching to grab his own dick and bring it relief.

"Awright, untie ma perr baws now," he requested as the two boys got off him. "Ah need tae come too."

The eleven-year-old slowly stroked the stiff, blood-engorged cock as he leered down at his flushed, sweating cousin. Gordie bucked his hips and groaned with the assault on his swollen member. As his arm got tired, Benny was replaced by Bobby, and the touch of the nine-year-old's hot little hand was like an electric shock to the bound boy's irritated shaft. He ached so badly he was sure his balls were going to rupture, but the boys were not relenting. Bobby was eventually replaced by Brett, and the teenager stroked his older cousin with a slow, steady rhythm, the same stroke as he used on himself. It was so hot jerking someone else's cock, and knowing that the boy was not going to be able to come had Brett slowly becoming erect again despite the fact he had only recently shot his load. Finally Brent took over. The thirteen-year-old found it awesome wrapping his fingers about the thick, seven-and-a-half inches [19 cm] of hot, throbbing cock. Even more awesome was the way his cousin was squirming and panting with the need to get off.

Gordie was by then bleating like a sheep and his abused cock was swollen and red. The shoelace had caused the boy's cock to stretch even more than it normally would, and the veins stood out like the veins on a fat old lady's legs. When Brent finally let go of it, Gordie's cock jerked wildly in desperation for relief. The boys sat back and glanced at each other and giggled at the sight of their cousin's swollen member jerking about as if it had a life of it's own. It took a long time for the sensations passing through the irritated member to subside and for Gordie's breath to return to normal.

Gordie was learning to hate that phrase. After a moment he felt one of the boys spreading apart his asscheeks and inserting something up his anus, something short and slender compared to the two cocks that had been shoved up it.

Gordie heard the distinctive scrape and snap of a match being lit, and he smelt the sulphur. Seconds later he heard a hiss.

"Gawd! Boys! Fir Gawdsake no! Ye cannae dae this tae me! Pull it oot ay ma erse!"

Seeing Bobby put his hands over his ears, Gordie inhaled deeply and tensed. There was a loud bang and he jerked in fright. To his surprise his ass didn't feel anything.

"Really had you going, didn't we?" asked Brent as he held a second firecracker before Gordie's eyes and lit it. The other was still up his ass. The boys laughed as Brent threw it aside at the last moment and it went off with a bang.

The boys formed a circle and Bobby whispered something and then took off. Gordie tensed and wondered what the little hellions were plotting now. While Bobby was gone, his brothers cautiously untied Gordie's arms and then lowered his legs. Using the ropes still attached to his ankles and wrists, they then tied him spread-eagled on the ground. The boys then retrieved the cake they'd saved and hidden in the bushes along with the rope. The twins grinned down at Gordie, and then sat cross-legged on either side of his groin. The two naked boys slowly smeared the white, blue and red icing over Gordie's irritated, jerking cock and then pasted the sponge cake to it.

By then Bobby returned with a handful of sparklers. The two teenagers had gotten aroused coating Gordie's cock with cake, and after licking off their fingers, they began to jerk themselves. Their young balls were soon pumping out a generous load of teen precum. Bobby coated the end of one of the sparklers with Brent's fresh, clear precum while Benny held Gordie's cock steady with one hand and squeezed the head with the other hand to open up his peehole. Brett flipped up a droplet of his precum with his fingertip and dripped the warm lube directly down the little hole of Gordie's stiff organ. Gordie opened and closed his peehole excitedly in response to the slick wetness, causing the thirteen-year-old's precum to ooze down his urethra in its desperate attempt to signal the brain it was expecting a rush of cum from the other direction. Brett added a second, and a third drop of his precum to the tip of the seventeen-year-old's aching cock with the same result. Then as the three boys held their Scottish cousin down, Bobby slowly and carefully eased the pre-cum lubed end of the sparkler into the slicked opening of his dickhead.

"Oh shag! Oh shite! Lads, stop! Aggh, stop," he screamed as the sensation of the slender sparkler entering his peehole sent a shiver down his irritated cock and up his spine. "Aggh, ma perr stiffer!"

He had to come so badly and the stimulation of his urethra had him feeling as if his entire body was going to explode! The helpless seventeen-year-old boy inhaled sharply and held his breath as the boys slowly slipped the sparkler another inch up his peehole. Lighting it, they sat back and laughed as Gordie's cake-coated cock jerked and twitched as the sparkler burnt down almost to the tip of his dick before extinguishing.

Carefully easing it out, Brent and Brett proceeded to lick and suck the cake they had smeared on the hapless boy's cock back off. The attack of their hot mouths and tongues caused Gordie's bound cock to twitch and jerk all the more in desperation. The teens' long blond hair caressed Gordie's thighs and tickled his stomach as the boys' hot, red tongues began to lap up the red, blue and white icing. The two boys slowly played with their stiff four inch [10 cm] joy sticks, and as they finally sucked and licked the last of the cake and icing off their cousin's cock, they shot their second load of cum over his stomach and along his thighs. By this time the seventeen-year-old boy was faint with overstimulation and his cock was as red as a chili pepper, and felt just as hot. Feeling their hot, slimy cum against his skin doubled his need.

"Oh Gawd, lads, ye huv tae lit me cum now, thair's no doubt aboot it. The haid ay ma cock is itchin fir a wank n ma perr baws huv nivir ached this bad in aw ma life."

"Well, he has been a cool dude. I think we should give his balls a break," observed Benny.

The boys untied the shoelace about his testicles and while Bobby and Brent gently stroked his swollen balls, Benny and Bobby smeared their two pieces of cake over the swollen, irritated cock, causing a copious flow of clear precum to ooze out of the burning slit and down over the red, blue and white icing.

"Oh Gawd, oh fuck," groaned Gordie as he felt his preclimax juices finally flowing through his cock. Two good strokes and they'd have him shooting his stuff.

He suddenly felt the lace about his testicles again and seconds later it was drawn tight.

"And add some moisture to the cake," said Bobby with a grin. "It was drying out." He ran a fingertip over the tip of Gordie's cock, flipping off the droplet of pre-cum and causing the teenager's cock to ache and twitch with desperate need. "Mmmm, good," he said, licking the drop of clear cum off his finger tip.

"Lads, ye huv tae untie ma baws. Ye huv no idea how bad ma cock needs tae git oaf! Ah've nivir had a stiffer fir this long!"

Bobby and Benny grinned at each other, and bending over, ran their tongues over the boy's turgid knob. His cock twitched and jerked wildly.

"Oh shag! Oh shite! Untie ma baws n gie me a doss wanking lads. Ah dinnae care if ye use yir hands or dae it wi yir mooth! Ah huv tae cum sae bad ma baws are gaunny burst fir shair if ye dinnae!"

"Hey, Gordie, I love the way you talk," said Brent, and the four brothers laughed.

As the two preteens continued to lick and suck the cake and icing coated cock, their two brothers sat back and slowly jerked themselves as they watched. As their precum oozed out of their cockslits for still another time, they flipped it up with their forefingers and slipped the bitter- sweet treat between their lips. It was so hot watching their two horny, preteen brothers slowly clean off the cock they had just finished cleaning themselves.

"Wow, that has made me tired," announced Benny as he finally sat back on his heels and admired Gordie's huge cock, now glistening in the moonlight with their spittle.

"Yeah, I got to sit down," he said, straddling the bound boy and squatting back above his now totally engorged cock.

"No, ye cannae dae thit!" screamed Gordie. "Nae up ur erse! Ah'm nae a pooftie Ah telt ye. Ye cannae dae thit tae me." He felt the eleven-year-old's hand wrap about his hot, stiff probe and the boy shuffled back. "Lads, dinnae make me dae this. Nae up ur choc-box! Nae wioot a durex!"

Gordie's pleas were totally ignored and he had no choice but to lie there helplessly on his back as the slim, eleven-year-old boy slowly sat back until he felt the tip of his cousin's throbbing cock against his arsehole. Opening his arsehole and exhaling deeply as he relaxed, Benny continued to squat. The young boy felt the spit coated knob begin to stretch apart his anus and he strained to accept the thick pole. He felt it slip in a bit further and he grunted with the effort and the pleasure. Slowly his hot little boy ass surrounded the top five inches [12½ cm] of Gordie's hard meat.

Benny then began to ride on the boy's cock, enjoying the ripples of stimulation passing up his anus. He began to fiddle with his stiff little cock as he worked his butt up and down. His three brothers laughed and cheered him on and his cousin gritted his teeth and clenched his eyes with the new assault on his swollen, irritated manhood. Benny smiled down at him as he continued flexing his leg muscles, slowly rising and falling until the stimulation of his little butthole and the stroking of his three-inch [7½ cm] cock caused him to jerk and tremble with his dry orgasm. At the same time Gordie bucked and grunted with his own dry orgasm, being unable to shoot his cum.

Benny no sooner got off him than Bobby took his place. The four brothers spit up the necessary lubrication and the nine-year-old eagerly sat down on the huge lubed probe. In a way the boy's hot, moist hole was soothing to Gordie's aching, irritated cock now that he'd had a dry orgasm. As the boy began to work his hips up and down, the pleasure was actually overwhelming and Gordie could not help but sigh and groan with ecstasy as the boy's hot, moist hole squeezed and soothed his irritated shaft. The pleasure, however, was brief and misleading. His brain once again sent messages down to his balls that they were to release their load, and again his balls replied that they wished that they could. Before long Gordie was once again crying out in desperation for the climax he could not achieve as Bobby's hot boy ass relentless rode up and down his shaft. Finally the nine-year-old trembled with his dry orgasm, experiencing the relief that Gordie could not.

Gordie was given no break as Brett took his place, sitting on the boy's irritated, red pecker and riding it like some obscene horse. Having watched his two brothers reach their orgasms and his young body raging with teen hormones, the thirteen-year-old boy was within minutes gasping and groaning with orgasmic pleasure as he squirted his fresh boy cum all over Gordie's hairy chest. The feel of the young boy's hot ropes of cum on his body, and the aroma of his fresh boy cream was too much for the older teenager. As Brett got off Gordie began to thrust his body up and down in desperation like a man gone wild.

"Hey, look, Brent, the pooftie is so hot he can't wait to get his cock up your ass," laughed Brett.

His blond-haired twin eagerly squatted above the thrusting cock, and Gordie eagerly thrust his cock up the thirteen-year-old's willing asshole. In his madness he was sure that if the pressure got high enough his balls would cause the shoestring to snap. Brent was not objecting and the boy eagerly rode Gordie's stiff, bucking cock. Like his twin brother, he was randy as hell and was soon adding his load to his twin brother's, shooting so hard some of his young cum even splattered Gordie's face and landed in his gaping mouth.

That bitter-sweet taste only accented Gordie's need to come. By then his balls were turning blue in their desperate need to release a load of seed and the veins of his cock were thick, hard ridges. His cock was numb, as was his mind, and he lay back limply and enjoyed the simple lack of stimulation.

The boys dressed and left him tied there as they slipped away for some pop and chips. As he slowly regained his strength and wits, Gordie tried to struggle out of the ropes, but the boys had learned their knots in Boy Scouts very well. It was useless. The brothers returned forty-five minutes later, laughing and joking and still full of energy.

"Aye. Ye huv had ur fun, thair's nae doubt aboot thit. Sae untie ma baws. Lit me git oaf a load ay spunk too."

"Ye lads are a doss piece ay work, fir shair," Gordie said admiringly despite what his little cousins had done to him.

It was a family heirloom. Fortunately, or perhaps unfortunately, it was soon found. Bobby whittled the cardboard handle of a tiny two inch by six inch [5 x 15 cm] paper flag down until it was the thickness of the lead of a pencil. Sitting beside Gordie's hips, he squeezed his peehole open and worked up a loogie in his mouth. Bending his head, he drooled his spittle into the opened peehole and twirled the end of the whittled flag pole in the thick gob of spittle that ran down the bound boy's knob. Ever so carefully he slipped the slimy tip of the handle into Gordie's peehole and began to ease it up his urethra.

"Nae," cried Gordie. "Oh fucking Gawd, dinnae dae thit tae me again. Oh shag! Lads, Ah've goat tae git ma baws oaf. Ye dinnae huv nae idea what yer daein tae me. Oh fuck, Bobby, dinnae pit thit doon ma stiffer any farrrrther!"

Untying his legs, the boys raised his feet, not over his head this time but just so his butt was raised high enough to have a log slid under his back. Bobby chucked his clothes and sat down under Gordie's raised butt, his legs straddling the supporting log. Working up a mouth of spittle, he held open the boy's already ravished hole and drooled his slime into the opening. Then drooling over his index finger, he slipped the slimy digit up his cousin's hole, causing the boy to groan as the desire to get off a load grew still stronger. While Bobby continued to lube up Gordie's hole with spittle, his brothers quickly chucked their clothes also.

Bobby was soon erect, and shuffling into position, he easily stuck his three-inch [7½ cm] woodie up his cousin's asshole. To Gordie, it did not feel much different from the boy's finger.

Seeing his kid brother was connected, Benny straddled Gordie's hairy chest and began to fiddle with his little cock, quickly getting it erect. At eleven years of age that was never a problem. As he shuffled forward, Gordie willingly opened his lips. He knew that to resist was useless, and after all the boys had put him through, resisting now seemed ridiculous. He slowly began to suck on the boy's hot, narrow little dick, his lips taking his frustration at not being able to cum out on the youngster's cocklet.

The twins sat down on either side of him and began to lick his cock as they jerked themselves, two matching sets of silky blond hair, two matching sets of hot, red tongues, two matching sets of curly blond hairs, two matching sets of four inch [10 cm] woodies and loosely hanging teenage balls. Their long hair gently caressed his thighs and hips as the boys ran their tongues from the shoelace at the base up the heavily veined, engorged shaft to the fully exposed purplish head. As their hot, moist tongues ran over the sensitive ridge of his knob Gordie groaned and tensed with the ripples of sweet pain that passed through his irritated cock.

Over the quiet of the evening they heard the announcer. Fifteen minutes before the fireworks display. The boys stopped, allowing themselves time to savour the pleasures rippling through their stiff little boy cocks. Gordie's cock jerked wildly with desire, and the implanted flag waved in the night air. The four brothers giggled at the sight. It had been four hours since they had bound his balls, four hours of stimulation and being repeatedly brought to the brink of a climax he could not achieve. He wondered if the boys were going to let him go all the way this time.

The boys finally began again, Bobby slowly working his slender little cock in and out of his cousin's hot, moist hole while his cousin sucked on his brother's little woodie, and his two oldest brothers licked the horny teen's swollen member. Bobby watched the twins jerking their stiff little cocks and wondered when he'd begin to grow hairs like them and to shoot his stuff. He imagined it would be awesome. The announcer announced ten minutes to go.

"Oh Gawd, ten mair minutes. Ah cannae tak this fir another ten minutes. Ye goattae stop licking ma cock or Ah'm gaunny gae mad!"

The twins stopped and once again Gordie obscenely waved the American flag vigorously as his engorged cock jerked and throbbed like it never had before in its desperate need for relief. The four brothers giggled at the sight.

"Aggh lads, Ah've nivir had tae come sae badly in ma life. Ah huv tae say ye four are doss sex maniacs, n the most skilled Ah've ivir ken."

The boys resumed their play and delighted in the pleasures they'd come to know and to seek. Bobby closed his eyes and sighed with the joy of having a hot, tight asshole gripping his little woodie. Benny licked his lips and groaned with the pleasure of having a hot, moist mouth tugging on his. Brent and Brett slowed their strokes and were careful not to over excite their irritated knobs so that they could come together, and at the same time they began to lick their cousin's hot, seven-and-a-half inch [19 cm] pole in slow motion. Four, three, two, sixty seconds.

The boys began to speed up now. Bobby began to thrust his hips to and fro, driving his little cock in and out of Gordie's asshole as fast as he could. As his little pricklet went numb, he knew he was about to climax. Benny meanwhile was encouraging his Scottish cousin to suck harder on his throbbing little cocklet and he began to slide his bare bum back and forth along his cousin's hairy chest as he worked his tingling boy cock in and out of the teenager's mouth. Brent and Brett were pumping their fists madly, working their fingers up and down their stiff little shafts and squirming with the building pleasure.

Gordie gasped and groaned, his body and mind raked with four hours of constant stimulation. He sucked hard on the little boy cock in his mouth as another was thrust in and out of his arse. Gordie's swollen, numb cock throbbed as the two hot tongues ran up and down the engorged shaft and over his knob. The ridge of his cockhead tingled and burned with an irritation that was beyond description. The seventeen-year-old's hard little balls were drawn up tight under his cock and aching with a piercing pain. With all the blood centred at his groin, the boy began to pass in and out of consciousness.

"Five, four, three, two." One of the twins cut the laces binding Gordie's cock and balls with his sgian dhub. "One, zero!"

The five boys climaxed together, five hot, perspiring boys trembling with the most powerful climaxes they'd ever had. Five boys weak-loined and loudly gasping for breath, five cocks throbbing and burning with undescribable pleasure. Bobby and Benny quivered once again with their dry orgasms, their little boy cocks throbbing hotly and pleasantly in their cousin. Brent and Brett fell on their backs as they shot their fourth load for the evening, their hot boy cum shooting up in the air and landing on the grass between their slender, outspread legs. Gordie cried out and thrust his hips at the sky as his swollen balls contracted and his hot spunk shot up the core of his cock, sending the American flag flying through the air as if shot out of a cannon.

The night sky was lighted up with a rainbow of colours as burst after burst of fireworks were shot off in the park. Squirt after violent squit shot from Gordie's loins, thick streamers of cum shooting up into the air out of the madly wagging bone and landing in hot ropes on his chest, on his thighs, and in his gaping mouth. Colourful star bursts, whistling bombs, sparklers and swirls created pattern after pattern in the sky. Shot after endless shot erupted from Gordie's burning cockhead and his mind spun with the violent release of his seed and return of blood to his head. Hot cum oozed down over his ribs and clung to his teats, hot salty cum dripped from the corner of his mouth, and rivulets of cum oozed out of his burning peehole and down over his swollen cock to collect in his dark brown hairs and to flow down over his tight balls.

The five boys lie on their backs, their chests heaving and their bodies flushed with relief, their stiff cocks pointing up at the display in the sky. Brent and Brett squeezed their irritated shafts, working out the last of their sticky boycum and smearing it over their little cocks and between their fingers and then bringing their fingers to their lips. Their two younger brothers glanced at each other and grinned, their eyes clouded with the bliss of their dry orgasms. Gordie lay sprawled on his back, his seven-and-a-half inches [19 cm] of hard meat standing upright and now glowing pleasantly with the circulation of blood and replenishing of oxygen, his body and band uniform spotted with puddles of his creamy-white cum.

The five boys lay on their backs and watched as volley after volley echoed across the park and flashed across the sky. As the display ended and the park fell silent, so did the boy's breaths return to normal. They slowly rose and dressed.

"Well," said Barry Brewster as the five boys joined him and his wife, "what did you think of the fireworks?"

"Yeah, best blast we've ever had," said Brent suggestively as he glanced at his brothers and up at his cousin.

Gordie looked at the boys' father in a daze, his hair tousled and straggly, his Prince Charlie jacket open and his vest buttoned incorrectly. The inside of his kilt was spotted with wet stains, cold streamers of cum were sticking his clothes to his body, and his cock and arse were still burning with a dull sweet pain.

"Wis the grrrrrandest ivir, nae doubt aboot it," he replied with a sigh and more than a hint of exhaustion in his voice. "It wis fir shair the best Ah've ivir had. Ahhh, the best Ah've ivir seen thit is." Gordie glanced down at his four little cousins. "N Ah think thair's gaunny be a loat mair barry days ahaid."

"You bet cuz," the four Brewster brothers agreed with happy smiles as they crowded around their third cousin and gave him a group hug.

"Well, one thing's fir shair," said Bobby as they headed for the parking lot, "our fireworks were a doss blast, n Ah cannae think thair coulda been a grrrrrander end tae a mair perfect day!"

Barry Brewster tousled his young son's hair and the Brewster clan and their Scottish cousin laughed merrily as they piled into the station wagon and headed home.

J.O. Dickingson

Brewster Adventures

The First Year

Summary

Characters

Category & Story codes

Disclaimer

Author's note

The Brewster Boys

Table of Contents

(1) 24 December 1998
The Brewster Boys and Santa

(2) 14 February 1999
The Brewster Boys Play Cupid

(3) 4 April 1999
The Brewster Boys' Easter

(4) 4 July 1999
A Brewster July 4

J.O. Dickingson

Brewster Adventures

The First Year

Summary

Characters

Category & Story codes

Disclaimer

Author's note

The Brewster Boys

Table of Contents

(1) 24 December 1998The Brewster Boys and Santa

(2) 14 February 1999The Brewster Boys Play Cupid

(3) 4 April 1999The Brewster Boys' Easter

(4) 4 July 1999A Brewster July 4

(1) 24 December 1998
The Brewster Boys and Santa

(2) 14 February 1999
The Brewster Boys Play Cupid

(3) 4 April 1999
The Brewster Boys' Easter

(4) 4 July 1999
A Brewster July 4