J.O. Dickingson

The Gargoyle of Male Fecundity

Chapters 15-16

Chapter 15

At the pancake breakfast put on by their hosts the next morning, Ray proposed they meet again that evening after supper to continue their introductions and to get to know each other. They all readily agreed and gathered around the fire pit at the group picnic site that night, eager to hear the remaining tales of their fellow campers.

Tim began the evening, telling how he had gone to a conference on teaching gifted students and had attended a session on the problems of being gifted by young Taylor and how later they had both attended a session on ceramics being put on by an old oriental, Tim returning to his hotel room with a packet of four suppositories and an ugly statue of a frog with an extra pair of legs and an obscenely erect penis. Everyone smiled at that, marvelling at how the elderly man got around and seemed to be just in the right place at the right time. That evening six-year-old Taylor showed up at the door, his chaperone having fallen asleep and the boy, having enjoyed Tim's company earlier, deciding to look him up and see if he'd like to talk.

They did talk, about teaching and being gifted, and about computer games and computer programming and pottery, interests the two of them shared. That had been Tim's sole intent, but already attracted to the boy, he found it more and more difficult to stay focussed and to keep his erotic thoughts out. Noticing the statue upon entering the hotel room, Taylor had been too shy to mention it, but noticing now how red the end of its penis had gotten, he commented on the change and asked how the statue did that. That lead to a discussion on the meaning of fecundity, straight sex, sex between couples of the same sex, boylove, and what the old oriental had told Tim, heavy topics, especially between a thirty-year-old teacher and six year old student.

"So if you stick those things up my bum and we have sex, I'll have a baby?" Taylor had asked, totally fascinated by the idea as many six-year-olds would be.

"Well, that was what the man said, but that's impossible. As I explained, it takes a man and a woman to make a baby, and a man plants his seed in her vagina, not her rectum."

"But men like to do it that way with men, or with boys."

"Some men."

"You do." Tim hadn't said so, but that he did was evident to Taylor even if he was only six.

"No. Well, yes, I'd like to, but I haven't. I've just thought about it."

"If you'd like to do it why haven't you?" he asked with all the innocence of a six-year-old. There were times he simply did not understand the thinking of adults.

"Well, there's lots of things we'd all like to do, but we don't. I'd like to have blueberry pie and ice cream for breakfast every morning, but I don't."

"But when that statue's penis gets red it means the statue thinks you should do it with the person you're thinking about."

"So the man said, but a statue can't think now, can it?"

"A ceramic statue's penis can't just turn red by itself either, can it?"

"No." He should have known better than to argue with someone who was gifted, or who was an innocent child.

"I read about a statue of Mary that cries real tears. In Mexico I think. Or France or someplace. I don't remember. They think it's a miracle. A sign from God. People go there to get their prayers answered."

"I've read about that too. A lot of people think there's a natural explanation for the tears, and there's no proof that it's a sign from God."

"So there's a natural explanation for how the statue's thing got red?" he asked, glancing over at the statue.

"Not that I'm aware of," Tim replied, trying futilely to ignore the statue staring at him.

"But you do want to do it with me?"

"Well, huh, well, wanting to do something and being able to do it are two different things," he replied uncomfortably.

"I don't mind."

"You're a little young to make that decision."

"Yeah, that's what they tell me about a lot of stuff," Taylor had said with a frown.

Although he'd been attracted to young boys for as far back as he could remember, Tim had never done anything, afraid of what the scandal would do to his parents and brothers and sisters, and afraid of the punishment for such an act if he got caught. He knew that a teacher doing something like that was held in even greater contempt than the average person, and he'd been particularly guarded against acting on his attraction to his young grade four students or the younger students at his school. Sitting there looking at the dejected, bespeckled six-year-old, he struggled with the strongest temptation he'd ever been confronted with. After years of denying himself, he could not resist any longer.

So he removed the youngster's clothes, growing with arousal with the removal of each article. The boy raised his butt so he could slip his tight white briefs over his smooth ass and then sat back down on the bed as Tim pulled them off. The sight of him innocently and unashamedly sitting there totally naked except for his eyeglasses sent a quiver of arousal through Tim's flaccid cock, destroying what little reservation he'd still had. He removed his own clothing until he too was wearing nothing but his glasses, his arousal mounting with each second, and stepping over to the bed and sitting beside the youngster, Tim began to fondle his limp penis. Taylor immediately reached over and began to fondle his aching cock, copying what the thirty-year-old teacher was doing to him. The two were soon erect, Tim's cock now six inches [15 cm] and jutting out under his thatch of curly hairs and Taylor's two-and-a-half inches [6½ cm] jutting up in the air under his smooth pubes. Using moisturizing cream from his toiletry kit for lube, Tim gently lubed up his stiff cock and Taylor's tight anus and feeling foolish, inserted the first of the four suppositories up the youngster's rectum.

Kneeling on the floor and having Taylor lie on the bed on his back with his buttocks on the edge and his legs spread, Tim placed the tip of his lubed cock against the boy's pucker and gently pushed forward, telling Taylor to push out with his stomach, hoping that the hundreds of boylove stories he'd read on the Internet had been correct that doing so would make it less painful for the boy. They began several times, stopping after each to add more cream. Each time his knob had stretched open the virgin hole a little more until finally it popped inside. Both had been delighted at the success, and both had been relieved that it had not been more painful. As Tim began working his stiff cock in and out of the boy's virgin asshole, he was delighted to find fucking the boy was even more pleasurable than any story had ever described, and he was even more delighted to see that Taylor was enjoying it also.

Feeling a man's thick, hard organ stretching open his anus and probing deep inside his body was not something Taylor had ever thought about before, and certainly not something he had ever read about, and he was amazed how pleasurable and stimulating the act was. His tight anus burned with arousal as the man worked his cock in and out of it and his stiff little cocklet was swollen and itching with arousal too, and with each lunge forward and withdrawal the man made that arousal seemed to multiply. His breathing became more laboured as the pleasure increased and a strange, delightful tension began to develop in his loins, and to his delight Tim began to fuck his ass faster and harder, increasing the tension and the pleasure until they both reached that ultimate peak, Taylor squirming and twitching with the first amazing orgasm of his life as Tim spurted out his hot semen deep up his asshole.

They did it once more that night in Tim's hotel room, Taylor's guardian fortunately sleeping through the night, and the next day they did it four times, once at noon, once before supper, and twice that evening. Over the subsequent weeks, Tim travelled to Taylor's town five hours away and they spent the weekends madly fucking in Tim's hotel room. Their baby had been born there at the campground last July, and over the summer Tim had managed to get a teaching position at the school for gifted children that Taylor attended, allowing Taylor to see his baby every day and for the two to fuck as often as they wanted.

Thaddeus told of his meeting with his boymate Klaus next, a very different story. He was a stevedore at Gdansk, a job that required brawn rather than intelligence, but an honest job and steady work. Klaus's father was a good friend and drinking buddy who worked on one of the smaller fishing boats operating out of Gdansk. Klaus's mother had died in childbirth, leaving his father to raise him alone, and on those days his father was at sea, Klaus spent with Thaddeus, and from the two men he grew up with an enjoyment of fishing and the simple things in life. Then his father was drowned in a fishing accident. He was five at the time, and Thaddeus took him in, there being no other family.

"It was very hard time for him, losing father so suddenly and unexpectedly. It was hard time for me too. There was being much turmoil and change though it had already been some years since Communist rule had come to an end in Poland, especially as new businesses began to compete with those who once had monopoly. Each day I had to wonder if the company I worked for would still be there, and if I had job. Then one day, a most strange thing happened. We were unloading crates from ship from China when ropes on net frayed and one of the crates broke through. That itself was not what was strange. Many of the nets company was using were old and worn, and many times repaired. Such accidents happen, though fortunately not often, and not with serious damage. What was unusual was that this crate did not fall directly down onto dock as normal crate should, but instead flew out at angle, as if it had been thrown, and hit crane. Even more strange was this huge container was filled with packing, and contained only one object. The wood from crate miraculously missed everyone, including me who was directly underneath, and the object literally jumped into my arms. Well, I imagine you can guess what object was."

"A statue," observed Tim with a smile.

"A very ugly one," replied Thaddeus with a grin. "Well, that very same day the owner, the very same oriental you have all described, showed up. Was he angry about near loss of his statue? No. He was not even surprised at miraculous way it had come to no harm. He just looked at me and said something about ways of gods are not for the knowing of men, and that I had not saved his statue, but that Gargoyle had chosen to save me. That of course made no sense to me. What was surprise number two was instead of giving me reward, he gave me envelope with four suppositories, and asked for four hundred dollars for them. I replied I didn't want them, and even if I did, I didn't have that sort of money. His response was that my fortunes were about to change, and I could pay him when they did, and he turned and left, leaving statue behind. Well, boss didn't want anything so ugly and could think of nobody who would, so told me it was mine.

"Two days later company went bankrupt, and other companies who worked docks all ran into problems, equipment failures, workers having minor accidents, top managers suddenly falling ill and unable to come in to work, many things, and a shipment of perishables needing unloading. Well, company I'd been working for still had their equipment on dock, and nobody else could do job, so I gathered up what workers I could, and did it. As nobody else could, there arose no labour problems. The ship's owners offered me contract to unload their ships in the future, others quickly joined in when it was found the quality of my workers, and well, I now have one of the largest companies working docks in Gdansk.

"But that was not best of my fortunes. Klaus, as I have said, was feeling very depressed. The night I brought Gargoyle home, he had dream. Perhaps you'd best tell them yourself," he said, turning to his boymate.

"Yes, I had dream," began the seven-year-old boy with the same thick accent as his lover. "God appeared to me, and said father was safe in heaven with mother, but were very sad, because I was sad, and that I was not to be sad for them because they had a better life in heaven than they had on earth. And I asked why He had taken them from me and how I could be happy without them, and He replied that I would be happy when I returned love of man who loved me the most. He said too I would someday be very important man, one of His Disciples. I replied that man who loved me most was Thaddeus, and I loved him already, but God said I had to show him my love, that I had to give him son as God had given the world his Son."

"The next night, we made love," continued Thaddeus. "Having sex with a boy was not something I'd ever considered. Not once had thought ever crossed my mind, just like Arland had said about himself last night we met together. Oh, I knew of such things. It is not that uncommon, not in Poland, nor in Russia. There are many married Russian men who have boys on side, and many boys who make living pleasing men, and so it is, I suspect, in much of the world. That night though, something possessed us, something powerful and mysterious, something wonderful and good. I do not know what it was. It was just a feeling, a need that we had. We were both lonely, we both needed love and comforting, and we did love each other in all senses of the word except physically. That night that changed.

"We finished supper and I asked Klaus if he wanted to go to park, maybe play ball or just walk, and he said no, he was happy just to sit and be held. I asked if he was feeling sad, and he said yes, but he was happy too, being with me, and he put arm around me and said he loved me and asked if I thought his father would be angry if he loved me now his father wasn't there. Well, it brought tear to my eye and I held him closer and kissed him on the forehead and told him I was sure his father would be glad he had someone to love, and who loved him. He turned and kissed me back, on the mouth and I kissed him the same. I wanted him to stop hurting and it just seemed so right. As I said, I never before then had any feelings for another man, nor for boy, but just then I felt such lust, just as a man must feel when he meets the woman he knows he will marry. Our kisses lead to more, and we began to caress, first outside our clothing and then inside. We stripped down naked and to me he was the most beautiful boy I'd ever seen and I felt ache between my legs. I dropped to my knees and took his little dinky in my mouth and sucked on it. I wanted so much to bring him pleasure and this was the greatest physical pleasure I could think of. It just seemed so natural, so right, and when he twisted around and took my cock in his hand and began to lick it, that seemed so right too.

"I know the other day you said when it came to having sex, it was your choice," he said, looking at Arland, "and that you could not put blame on statue, but I am not so sure. Yes, it was my choice, and Klaus's, but it was as if we'd gone mad. Yes, like you said, like we were under a spell, a love spell-no, a lust spell. There is love, much love, but there was lust too, wild animal lust, pure sex, pure carnal desire. I do not know how to explain better. I do not know how, but statue had something to do with it. That I know. Why else would a man who'd never once thought of sex with a boy be driven with such lust? Why would a young, innocent boy who until then knew nothing about sex be driven with such a desire to couple with a man?

"But we did, there on my living room floor, and like the rest of you, not once, not twice, but three times, and it was warmest, happiest feeling I'd ever experienced. It was more than the physical pleasure of the sex, which was fantastic, and has been every time we've made love since. It was feeling of total devotion and unconditional love. It was 3; being in heaven."

The others could all relate to what he was saying, having felt much the same themselves.

"It was God's will," Klaus said, his voice firm with conviction.

"Do you think someday you'll be God's disciple?" Billy asked.

"Most certainly. One of our countrymen has become Pope, and very popular one, has he not?"

That they could not deny.

"God does work in mysterious ways," the man who'd introduced himself as Harold their first evening together observed, "ways that defy mortal explanation."

"You sound as if you're talking from personal experience. Did God also appear to you in a dream?"

"No, I had no dream, but I have seen a miracle."

The others looked on expectantly, so he continued, beginning by telling them that he was a doctor, a general practitioner, in a hospital in London. The sixty-year-old man confessed he'd been a boylover for as far back as he could remember, and had been intimate with over a dozen boys before meeting his present boymate, Edward, who was now a month away from his tenth birthday. None of them, he was quick to point out, had been patients of his, and none of them had any regrets later regarding their experiences together. Actually, he had said, he agreed with Thaddeus that there were many boylovers in the world, and would say that England had an above average number, perhaps because of their history of class levels and private boys schools, which he said were ripe grounds for homosexual activities, or perhaps it was their cold climate and cold women, he suggested, partly, but not all together, with tongue in cheek.

Edward, unlike the others, was a patient, and had been ever since he'd delivered him, just as he'd delivered his parents. Sadly, his parents, along with an older brother, had been killed in a car accident, the result of being hit by a drunken driver, and Edward himself had been serious injured, so badly that the best surgeons at the hospital felt there was nothing they could do for him but keep him comfortable and sedated with painkillers.

Harold said he was not a religious man, but the day he received the news he'd gone to the chapel at the hospital and prayed. When he returned to his office, he found a new patient waiting for him, an elderly Chinese gentleman with an ugly statue of a pregnant frog, four suppositories, and a packet of herbs. The herbs, which he said should be divided into nine portions and brewed in a broth, a portion a week, were for Edward's injuries. The statue and suppositories were for, the man had said, the "spiritual and mental health" of both of them, after Edward recovered from his injuries. He would not say how he knew Edward or about his injuries, nor how he'd gotten an appointment with Harold whose schedule was filled months in advance and who had not taken on any new patients other than the members of the growing families of his present patients for the past decade. Actually, after he'd left, Harold realized they hadn't discussed the individual's health at all.

Well, having nothing to lose, he brewed up the first portion of herbs and spoon-fed Edward. The boy, as far as everyone was concerned, was dying. To the surprise of the physicians treating him, his body began to repair itself immediately, and each day he grew stronger and stronger and organs they'd deemed irreparable were mending themselves. It was a miracle, and Harold alone knew the reason. As tempted as he was, as a doctor, to take a pinch of the herb mixture and have it analysed, he was not about to take a chance denying Edward even one grain.

"Each day Edward grew stronger, and so did my love for him. That was not any surprise to me. As I've said, I've loved other boys before Edward, and I still love each and every one of them. We keep in touch. Just because they've grown up and gone on their separate ways, the love between us is still there. A father still loves his son, even after he has left home and gotten married and has children of his own. So the more I got to know Edward, the stronger my feelings for him became, just as it had for the other boys in my life."

"So, the feelings that developed between you were no different from those of the earlier boys?"

"Not really, not in the sense I think you mean. It developed in much the same way as it had with the other boys, and my feelings were no stronger nor any less than my feelings had been with the other boys. This is why I found nothing unusual about what was happening. It was different from the other times in other ways of course. Which was again why I found nothing unusual. It has been different with each boy I've loved. Each boy is different, and I've loved each boy for a different aspect of his personality, one for his brashness and daring, another for his shyness and timidness. The circumstances are different for each boy also, some surrounded by love, others alone in the world. In Edward's case he had grandparents who loved him and he loved them, but it had been difficult for them to visit him regularly or for him to visit them as he was growing up as they were elderly and lived up in the Cotswolds and his parents were not rich so there was not a tight bond between him and his grandparents, and he had an aunt, but she was a spinster and had no interest in children nor any patience with them.

"At any rate, our relationship became closer with each passing day. Along with that closeness came a greater love and understanding between us, just as it is between any child and parent, or any child and adult, or for that matter between any two people. Best friends become best friends because of shared experiences and interests and a closer understanding of each other over time. As fellow boylovers, I don't have to tell any of you that." That was true and the others understood what he was saying.

"Well, by the end of three weeks we'd removed Edward from the critical list, and three weeks after that we moved him out of the intensive care unit, though we did keep him in a private room, his immune system still being very weak. Two weeks later we celebrated his sixth birthday, the entire hospital staff amazed at his miraculous recovery. At the end of the ninth week I gave him the last of the broth, and I knew that I was going to have to face the problem of releasing him to his grandparents, and likely not seeing him again. The next day I came by to visit him after my rounds, as I did every day, and as I stepped into his room I caught him masturbating. He was, of course, embarrassed and that lead to an open and frank doctor-patient discussion on the practice, and my assurance that almost every boy and man has done it at some time, and many do it regularly, even married men, and that there was nothing wrong with doing it, morally or physically, which any doctor and any honest priest will tell you today, though I know both professions have held very different views on that in the not that distant past, and some still do. Of course it was only natural for Edward to ask, if that was the case, if I did it also. Believing in honesty and openness, I admitted I did, and when he asked if I'd done it when I was a boy, I again admitted that I had, and that on occasion I and my closest buddies had done it together. He broke down in tears, and said that he and his older brother had just started doing it together, and had done each other, but now he'd never be able to do that again." Harold drew Edward closer to him, both almost in tears as they recalled that moment in their past.

"I just held him and let him let it out. There was not much more I could do. Afterward, I told him that it was true, he could never share that experience with his brother again, nor any of the other experiences they'd shared, but he would always have the memories, and that he should focus on the happy memories of his past, not on the sad things that could not be.

"Two days later I caught him masturbating again, but this time I pretended I had not noticed. The following day was the same, and when I caught him the day after that I realized that he wanted me to catch him. I'd been visiting him regularly after my rounds each day for the past month, and with rare exception around the same time each day. My first thought was that he wanted me to reprimand him, to give him a reason to stop doing it, which of course is contrary to how I really feel about the act. Oh, I know as a doctor it can become habit forming, and harmful if it replaces other sexual acts between couples, but neither were causes for concern for a boy who had turned six only two weeks earlier. Well, as I thought more about it, I realized his purpose was just the opposite. He didn't want a reason to stop. He was looking for someone to share the experience with, a substitute for his brother.

"So, I decided to play along, for that one time, to pretend that seeing him had gotten me aroused to the point I wanted to do it, which was not exactly an untruth on my part. I figured that later I'd tell him doing it together had been fine, but that I could not be a substitute for his brother, and that there would be other experiences that someday would take the place of what he once had. Besides, I'd already decided there was no reason to keep him at the hospital any longer, and to notify his grandparents on Monday that I was prepared to release him. This was Saturday, so I only had that day and the next to address his issue of sharing his sexual experiences, and in the matter of two or three days I would no longer be struggling with the temptation I'd been facing. I hadn't, however, considered the power of the Gargoyle of Male Fecundity. I have to agree with Thaddeus. There is some power in that statue that is unexplainable.

"Anyway, I played my part, pretending that seeing him masturbating had gotten me aroused and wanting to do it too and asking if he minded if we did it togther, knowing that was what he wanted, and as I said, it not really being an act on my part. Of course he said he'd like that, and so I put out a do not disturb sign on his door with my signature and closed the door. Sitting up on the bed beside him, I pulled down my fly and took my pecker out. I had intended on the two of us sitting there side by side and doing it, but after a minute, after we'd both gotten stiff, Edward observed that sometimes he did his brother and his brother did him, and I knew from the tone of his voice, he was not just sharing a secret with me, but was hoping that we'd do the same. Again, I played along and asked him if he wanted to see what it was like to play with mine, and of course he said he did, and asked if I wanted to try his, which of course I did.

"So we sat there and stroked each other's pecker for another minute, and just the sight of him sitting there staring down at my boner in his hand, and the feeling of that hot little hand grasping my cock combined with the silky feel of his little pecker had my blood pumping. I found myself slipping off the bed and kneeling beside it, bending over and taking the delightful little cocklet in my mouth and sucking on it. Next thing I knew I was on the bed with him in a hot sixty-nine, and it was so erotic I swear there had to be some outside power that stopped me from blowing my wad right then and there.

"We were both mad with lust, sucking on each other's cock like they were popsicles on a hot summer day. We finally paused, to enjoy the pleasure pulsating through our swollen peckers, and we kissed, my lips flavoured with his dick and his lips tasting of my cock. I inserted my tongue in his mouth, and he reciprocated, slipping his in mine. There was no holding back. Chucking my lab coat and the rest of my clothes, I literally tore off Edward's hospital gown, and retrieving the suppositories that I'd been carrying around with me wherever I went ever since that meeting with the ancient oriental, I slipped one up his arse.

"Finding a jar of moisturizing lotion in the drawer beside his bed, I used it to lube up his arsehole and my aching cock and I mounted him right there on the bed. Now as I've said, I've never had sex with any of my boy patients before, and I certainly would never have considered doing it with them in their hospital bed. It was as if, I believe it was Arland who first mentioned it, as if I was possessed. I certainly was not thinking clearly or I would never have done anything so risky. At the time, there was only one thing in my mind, I had to have this boy's arse, and Edward would tell me later, that though he'd never even heard of men sucking each other's cock or fucking each other's ass before, it was as if there was a voice in his mind telling him what to do. Like the others have said, I tell you this not as an excuse for my actions, but to tell you just how filled with desire the two of us were.

"Now I said that my initial feelings for Edward were no different from any other time before that, but this first sex together, that was totally different from the first time with any other boy. Never with the other boys did I act so impulsively and so aggressively. If it were not for the fact that Edward engaged in the act with the same vigour and willingness, I'd say that I raped the poor boy. Never in my life had I felt such lust, such a need to satisfy the desire aching between my legs, nor such a desire to bring a young boy that ultimate of pleasures. We rutted like two wild hedgehogs, a fifty-six-year-old man and a boy barely turned six. How it is that I never hurt him I do not know. I plunged my cock up his arse with such violence we banged the bed against the wall, and when I withdrew, I pulled my cock out almost to the point of exiting so I could lunge the entire length in again. And at the same time Edward was thrusting his hips to and fro in a desperate attempt to satisfy his own need so that we were banging our groins together in our mad lust to climax. And climax we did, together, young Edward trembling and jerking about on the bed with his dry orgasm and me grunting and snorting as I spurted out my seed. And, like the rest of you, as delicious as that first experience was, we could not help doing it a second time, and a third. It was totally unbelievable, but I don't have to tell any of you that. That was Saturday. Monday I contacted his grandparents about releasing him from the hospital, and suggesting given their age that I adopt the boy. In that Edward was in full agreement, they were most appreciative of the offer and took me up on it."

They all headed back to their campsites that night buoyed up again by the good fortune of their fellow campers, and once more in an amorous mood, which of course again resulted in most of them not getting up until noon the following day. It was a warm summer day and that afternoon they scattered, some to go hiking, others to go sightseeing, and some heading off to Jackson Lake to go boating or swimming. That night they once again met in small groups to share their adventures of the day and to relax among friends.

The following evening, Kyle and Kevin, now, like Billy, ten years and ten months old, kicked off the round of sharing at the group fire pit. Kevin's description of being an unexpected and unwanted child and his unhappy home life and arguments with his single mother aroused the anger of the group. It was a sad quirk of fate, or perhaps of society, that children were born to those who did not want them or could not raise them while those who wanted a child to love were denied the opportunity. Someone observed that it was a shame that there was not some sort of screening test before couples could have children, and another observed how cruel and self-centred some adults could be. Like the other tales, his story did have a happy ending with the meeting up with Kyle, then an eighteen-year-old university student, thanks again to the intervention of the mysterious oriental, and their subsequent hot sixty-nine in the bushes of the local park and all night orgy at Kyle's apartment.

Bobby told of his meeting with Billy in the paint shop and how the boy had flirted with him and teased him, playing with himself and glancing at him coquettishly. When the beefy trucker described the lust he had felt and his amazement that they hadn't broken the six-year-old's bed the afternoon he'd fucked the boy's ass so hard he'd actually rocked the bed, everyone smiled as they pictured the two-hundred and seventy pound [122 kg] trucker pounding the boy's tight little ass and recalled their own mad lust the first time they'd had sex as a couple. When Billy described their surprise and delight to find out he was pregnant and the pain and near panic giving birth, the others all knew how he'd felt, many of them having gone through the experience totally on their own also, and even the rest who'd been lucky enough to have the presence and assistance of those who'd gone through the miraculous birth before having still been near panic themselves. And of course when the two of them described the overwhelming joy of watching Billy Bob grow, everyone smiled, most of them knowing the joy he was referring to and the others looking forward to raising their sons.

"It is beautiful the love the three of you share," observed Reinhard.

"It is," Bobby agreed as he gave Billy a hug. "And," he added with only a moment's thought, "it's soon going to be the four of us. We think Billy's pregnant again." Now was as good a time as any to raise the question of repeat pregnancy, and how it might have been possible.

Everyone was delighted to hear the ten-year-old was expecting and they offered their congratulations to him and to Bobby.

"So, you've also been blessed by a second visit by the old oriental," observed Tom. His and Derrick's first surprise had been that it was Tom who had given birth to their oldest son, now two years and four months old. Their second surprise, last summer, was the revelation that the old oriental had showed up at Tom's accounting firm a month earlier with the Gargoyle of Male Fecundity and the request he audit the financial records for a religious group he was involved with, offering him another four suppositories in payment. In his gratitude for having met Derrick and having had his baby, Tom would have willingly done the audit for free, but he and Derrick could not let the opportunity of having a second child go by. Last summer they had surprised everyone by announcing that it was Derrick who was taking the suppositories and hoping to have Tom's child, who was now a happy, healthy seven-month-old baby.

"Actually, I've only seen him that once, just before I met Billy."

"He visited me," Billy said, "after I had Billy Bob."

"You?" Ray asked in surprise.

"Unhuh. Over there," he said, nodding to the forest on the far side of the campground, "where Kevin and me built a fort out of fallen logs. He gave me the frog statue and those suppository things."

"He just appeared and gave them to you?" Ray asked, even more surprised.

"Yeah."

"Did he say anything?"

"Yeah." Billy wrinkled his forehead as he tried to recall the exact words. "He said the purity of a boy's heart could be heard around the world for someone who was willing to listen. And he said it was for what I'd been wishing and hoping for since Easter."

"To have another baby."

"Nope," said Billy with a grin. "For Aaron to find a boylover and have a baby." He glanced over at his best friend and they smiled.

"When was that?" asked Ray. Aaron's baby was now sixteen months old.

"Two summers ago. The last day of our holiday the first time we camped here."

"Then how did you get pregnant again?"

Billy shrugged and looked up at Bobby.

"We don't know for sure, but we do have a hypothesis," Bobby began.

Disclosing that both he and Billy had been having oral sex with their little son, and that Billy had participated as the passive partner in anal sex with the toddler was embarrassing, and he feared some if not all them would find such intimacy with a three-year-old offensive, but as impossible as it sounded, it was the only explanation for Billy's pregnancy that he had. Considering the openness, honesty and support of everyone in their intimate little group, it was a chance he'd been willing to take. Before anyone could respond, Kyle volunteered that he and Kevin also suspected Kevin was expecting, and that they had engaged in the same intimacies with their son Korby. Bobby admired the young man's honesty and courage and his support. He could have kept quiet about the intimacies that he and Kevin had engaged in with their little son and let Bobby take whatever animosity the group might feel. Nobody expressed any concerns, moral or otherwise, about the sexual activities they had disclosed. On the contrary, everyone extended their congratulations to the two of them as they had with Billy and Bobby's announcement.

"Your hypothesis is not that far off the mark," Harold observed upon hearing the theory forwarded by Bobby and Kyle. Everyone's attention turned to him. "I'm not totally clear on how this process of male fecundity works, but I have been able to research some of the biology behind it. When I'd been given the herbs to give to Edward, I'd been too desperate and too upset to think twice about what I was doing. The boy was dying and there was nothing anyone could do. When to everyone's astonishment his body healed itself right before our eyes, I wasn't so incurious about the suppositories. After inserting the first, I closely monitored him for any adverse reactions, his pulse, his blood pressure, his rate of breathing, things like that. Of course they were high at first, considering what we'd just done," he said with a smile, "but they eventually returned to normal. I also took samples of his blood and his urine, at first hourly and then once a day, and examined his rectum and colon. I did the same after using the second and third suppository, and I risked taking a few grains of the fourth for a chemical analysis.

"Based on my observations, there are a few things I can tell you with a fair degree of certainty. The suppositories dissolved quickly in the warmth and moisture of the rectum to release several substances which are quickly picked up the capillaries surrounding the rectum. One of those substances is an estrogen-like hormone which causes the appendix lining to thicken and form a capillary network that is very similar to what happens to the lining of the uterus, making the appendix actually into a temporary uterus. Another substance is a testosterone-like hormone which causes a cyst to form at the end of the descending colon just above the rectum, and for the cells in the cyst to divide in the same way as the germ cells in the testes divide to form sperm. These cells though have one big difference. A third substance that is released is a chemical that somehow causes the X and the Y chromosomes in the germ cells to change into what I call W chromosomes because that is what the shape most resembles.

"I can't be sure, but it would appear that these modified W cells are released similar to the process of induced ovulation that we see in some animals, like rabbits and cats, where copulation sends a stimulus which ultimately causes the release of the egg, but in this case, the release seems to be triggered by a chemical that is in the secretion from the prostate that gives semen its milky constituency and its distinctive odour which I've called the W gamete releasing chemical, or WGRC for short. When a cell with a W chromosome joins with a sperm containing the Y chromosome, the combined cells begin to divide as they make their way up the rectum and through the large intestine to the appendix where it becomes implanted, just like a fertilized egg becomes implanted in the uterus of a female.

"I followed the developments in Edward, and it would seem that toward the end of the pregnancy, three new substances are produced by the appendix, a hormone which increases the elasticity of the large intestine and rectum and another to increase the flexibility of the bones in the pelvis to allow for the passage of the fetus, and a hormone similar to that produced in women that stimulates the breasts to begin producing milk. All of these changes in a boy's body are temporary and once the baby is born, the hormones disappear, except the lactating hormone to continue producing breast milk for the next couple years, and the appendix returns back to an appendix. The cyst appeared to have disappeared once the combined WY cell became implanted in the appendix.

"I've also done some tests on our son and I've been monitoring his development ever since he was born. This new baby, born of a man and a boy, has a W and a Y chromosome instead of an X and Y like us, and is a male like any other male baby with a couple exceptions. One is that the appendix is different, looking more like the undeveloped uterus of a baby girl, and so I'm guessing at some time, maybe puberty, it will become rich in capillaries and functional. The other exception is that there is a chestnut-sized gland with a duct leading to the descending colon which is in the same location as the temporary cyst I found in Edward, and which again I'm guessing upon puberty will produce W cells, or perhaps W and Y cells. That means, our babies when they grow up will not require suppositories to become pregnant as our boymates had to.

"I'm guessing most of us here have also discovered by now the peculiar qualities of the saliva of our young sons. A few of you have mentioned engaging in oral sex with your young sons, and from all the other similarities in our tales, I'm guessing anyone whose son is at least a year old has done likewise, and that the adults in this group have discovered some remarkable consequences of the peculiar blow jobs from our precocious young sons. I didn't identify the substance in our baby's drool at the time, and I can't find anything different in it now, but I'm certain it is responsible for a number of things, slowing down the speed and extending the duration of my ejaculation for up to three minutes, the significant increase in the size of my balls, and the increase in my ability to cum up to five times a day with a full load of semen each time."

Harold paused and looked around at the attentive group and most of the adults nodded or murmured that they'd had similar experiences. "As to your surprising new pregnancies," he continued, "Edward and I weren't going to say anything until we were more certain, but about a month ago Edward experienced the same sensation as Billy and Kevin, as if our little son Charles had shot something up his rectum. It was only once and we figured it was his imagination, but I ran some blood tests anyway, and discovered the same hormones and chemical as was in his blood after inserting the suppository. It would appear that he is in the very early stages of pregnancy also." There followed a third round of congratulations and hopes that their suspicions were correct. Harold looked around at the group. "Has anyone else had a similar experience?"

"I have," spoke up Michael, Ray's eleven-year-old boymate. "The feeling Davey shot something up my butt," he explained, referring to their three-year-old son. "But several times, not just once. Ray and I thought I was imagining things too. I haven't had any symptoms of pregnancy though, and the first time I felt something shoot up my butt was four months ago."

"Well, this is totally conjecture on my part based on what everyone has said, but it would seem that our young sons, at some point after their third birthday it would appear, have the ability to produce something which they can ejaculate and which serves the same purpose as a suppository. Just what this something is I have no idea, nor do I have a clue how a toddler ejaculates it."

"But if that's true, why hasn't Michael gotten pregnant?"

"I really don't know."

"If what you are proposing is true, is there, ah, any way for a boy to avoid becoming pregnant, other than obviously not allowing his toddler to, ah, plant this, ah, thing, or for us to, ah, stop having anal sex?" asked Tom.

"I really don't know that either."

That was a lot for the group to absorb and they sat there in silence as they thought about what they'd just heard, and its implications. Although it did explain the surprising pregnancies, there were still a lot of questions left. They all looked at their infant sons in a different light as they tucked them into bed that night.

A sudden and severe thunderstorm moved in the following morning and stayed until late evening. Most of the campers stayed in their recreational vehicles, and given the amorous discussions of the past two days, they had no difficulty finding something to occupy their time. Scattered showers were predicted the following day, keeping the campers close to home. Billy's contractions began early that evening. He asked for Taylor and Ted, wanting his cousin and uncle to be present at his birth of his second son, and Bobby called over Harold, who had gone out that day but fortunately had returned to the campground, figuring it would be a good idea to have a doctor present just in case considering the uniqueness of the conception of their child. It was Harold who suggested they also invite Reinhard and Ernst over, if Billy and Bobby didn't mind, so the two would know what to expect when Ernst's time came, and of course the expectant fathers readily agreed.

With his hips propped up on a stack of pillows, the ten-year-old spread apart his legs and began breathing deeply and rapidly while Bobby and Harold timed his contractions.

"He's due," Harold confirmed, glancing at Bobby. Bobby glanced down at his boymate' winking hole and looked at the doctor questioningly and the doctor nodded, knowing what the big man was asking. "We can wait at the other end of the motorhome while you, ah, dilate and lube him if you wish."

"No. Stay."

Bobby self-consciously undid his belt and pulled down his fly and pushed his trousers and boxers down to his ankles. Stepping out of them, he knelt down on the bed between the outspread legs of his boymate who was still panting rhythmically as he vigorously rubbed his little cocklet, now stiff and jutting out its full three inches [7½ cm] obscenely beneath his swollen belly. His hairless little balls bounced against his pale thighs as he wanked vigorously on his aching cock. Bobby stroked his own and rubbed the knob against the boy's gaping asshole. Despite the pain he knew Billy was in and despite the audience crowded into the back of the motorhome and staring at them over each other's shoulders, Reinhard and Ernst in surprise at what he was doing, he felt his cock growing with the eroticism of preparing his pregnant boymate's birth canal. He was soon stiff and leaking pre-cum in his excitement.

Placing the tip of his thick sausage against Billy's asshole, he smeared his pre-cum over the boy's pucker and his blood-engorged knob and then inserting the tip in the boy's hole he slowly pushed forward. His natural lube, their arousal, and the hormones Harold had said were flowing through his arteries and veins all did the job. Bobby slipped his knob into the boy's rectum without too much trouble or pain, and slowly sank his cock up the boy's rectum until the boy's smooth eggs were nestled in his thick thatch of curly brown hair. He slowly began fucking the pregnant boy and Billy constricted and relaxed his rectal muscles in time with his lover's thrusts and withdrawals as he continued to wank his stiff, aching cocklet, sending ripples of arousal down the slender shaft and through his groin to join the ripples of arousal pulsating out from his plugged asshole. He pushed hard and could feel the baby in his belly begin to move into his ascending colon.

"He's moving! He's fucking moving!" he gasped. "Fuck me! Fuck me hard!" he cried, and Bobby obliged him, plowing the ten-year-old boy so hard he was rocking the bed. This was so fucking hot, screwing his boymate, his belly bulging with their child while three adults and two six-year-old boys, one of them also pregnant, watched on in wide-eyed wonder.

The hefty six-foot-four [1.93 m], two-hundred-and-seventy pound [122 kg] trucker thrust his swollen, aching cock in and out of the gasping, groaning boy, four-foot-six [1.37 m] and eighty pounds [36 kg], having gained eight pounds [3½ kg] over the past four and a half months. The two grunted and snorted like two rutting pigs as sweat beaded on their foreheads and trickled down their bodies, the man's sweat dampening the thick mat of hair covering his chest and the long tufts hanging from his armpits and dripping off his massive body onto the panting, naked boy beneath him, the boy's sweat trickling down between his swollen breasts and down the pale sides of his ribs and distended belly.

"Yes!" cried the boy. "Oh fuck yes!"

His body thrashed on the bed and he cried out in ecstasy as his tortured body was raked with his explosive orgasm. At the same time his lover groaned and threw back his head in ecstasy as he felt his hot, thick, lubricating juice rush up the core of his benumbed cock and spurt out the tip, each spurt violent and drawn out as he'd become accustomed to. Spurt after spurt erupted from his throbbing cock, flooding the boy's rectum with hot, thick, slime, not a half dozen times, but dozens of times, and not for a few seconds, but for three minutes. Totally drained, he at last withdrew his still stiff cock, feeling weak and dizzy, and as it eased out of the boy's gaping, ravaged hole, the boy worked his sphincter and abdominal muscles desperately.

"He's coming! Oh fuck he's coming! I can feel him!"

"Push! Push harder! I can see his head! Oh fuck!"

Billy clenched his eyes and pushed with all his might like an old, constipated man. Ever so slowly the baby emerged, its slime-slick head pushing out of the boy's lovehole, stretching it wider and wider, followed by its shoulders and body, its legs and feet, its naked body slick and streaked with Bobby's fresh copious load of cum and with Billy's shit and ass slime. His hips still raised on the stacked pillows and his legs still spread, revealing his gaping, red, slimy butthole, Billy gazed up at the little, slime-streaked infant with glazed eyes, his milk-filled boy breasts heaving with his exertion.

"He's fuckin' beautiful," he gasped as Bobby placed the squalling, slime-soaked baby in his sweaty little father's arms. "And the little bugger has a boner already," Billy observed with a proud gleam in his eyes.

"Lemme see his pickle," exclaimed Billy Bob, the three-year-old wiggling between the legs of those crowded around the bed and jumping up on the bed beside his little daddy. "Hi little brother," he said happily, grinning down at the infant who instantly stopped his crying.

The baby did have an erection, his little cocklet barely half an inch [12 mm] long and jutting up from his marble-sized balls. Warm, damp towels were passed forward and the two beaming parents wiped off their little lovechild, and with words of congratulations, those who'd been invited to witness the birth departed to leave the two happy parents and their first born with their new loved one. Word quickly spread throughout the campground, and the other campers dropped by that evening bearing gifts and to offer their congratulations and to see this latest miracle child.

Billy spent the next day lounging around the campsite recovering from his ordeal and enjoying his newborn while the other campers went off on their own. That evening they all came by to check on the new father and his little one, Ernst and Reinhard staying longer than the others and filled with questions which the two proud parents readily answered, reassuring the apprehensive parents that giving birth was just as miraculous and as wonderful as conceiving their son had been.

When they gathered around the campfire the next evening, Aaron began the round of discussions, telling them how he and Billy had gone in search of a boylover for himself and had found John, and they all had to laugh at the boys' antics seducing the burly construction worker, and they all smiled knowingly as he and John described their first lovemaking at the construction site John was working at. Ted had Taylor tell the others next about how Billy had similarly helped his cousin Taylor find a boylover, again to everyone's amusement, and by the time he'd concluded with a description of his first time with his son down in his workroom, there wasn't one of them who had a dry eye, or a limp cock. They all bemoaned the number of abusive father-son relationships that they knew existed in today's world, and society's taboo on fathers and sons being able to fully bond together as Ted and his son had. Ted knew he had something special with his son, and after telling their tale, he knew he was a very fortunate man.

The next to speak was the last foreign visitor, a thirty-five-year-old Iraqi archaeologist and Shiite by the name of Rashid al-Faisal. He explained how he'd been excavating near the ruins of the Babylonian city of Eshnunna, when he'd come across the Gargoyle of Male Fecundity, which though clearly antique, bore no resemblance to any middle eastern artifact he'd ever seen. While he was having supper that evening, he had a visitor, the old oriental the others had all described meeting, a surprise not only because of the remoteness of his campsite, but also because there were not many individuals from China in Iraq. The elderly gentleman told him he would make his most important discovery in the hills to the north. He scoffed at that, that area having been thoroughly searched, and the civilization that had thrived there having been so long ago and replaced so many times there was hardly anything left to mark its existence. Even the ancient and grand capital of the Assyrian Empire, Nineveh, today consisted of two mounds and a portion of the city wall. The ancient Chinaman clearly didn't know what he was talking about.

To his surprise the next day he received a message from the university of Baghdad to go to a small village north of the ruins of Nineveh to check out a supposed find. Pure coincidence, he thought, and likely a waste of time. Once there, he was taken by a young goatherd to a cave the boy had discovered and in which he said were some clay tablets. Again to his surprise, he found two dozen tablets clearly of the Assyrian period, probably taken from the famous library that had been at Nineveh and hidden away during one of the many subsequent invasions of the area.

"That was indeed a most important discovery. However, it was not my most important discovery," he said with a grin as he put his arm about his young boymate, a seven-year-old Arab Muslim who'd introduced himself as Kareem Mohammed ibn Bakr. "It was this boy goatherd, not the tablets he had discovered, that would prove to be most important though at the time I did not know it."

"You would not know it. We did not begin on friendly ground," Kareem said, flashing everyone a toothy smile that would win the coldest heart.

"Indeed. Kareem was arrogant and insolent, not to mention dirty, louse-infected, and totally illiterate," Rashid observed, obviously teasing.

"It was Rashid who was arrogant. Another southern intellectual come to steal once again what belonged to Kurdistan," Kareem replied haughtily and looking just as arrogant and indignant as he was acting.

"And Kareem was a self-absorbed peasant child with no respect for knowledge, or for his elders, and a Kurd and a Sunni besides," Rashid retorted with a smile.

"You can't tell a southern Iraqi anything, and especially a Shiite."

"You two evidently made up," Reinhard observed, nodding to their nine-month-old son whom they'd proudly introduced as Mohammed Kareem Rashid Ahmed al-Faisal-Bakr.

"Eventually," admitted Rashid. "To be truthful, after I got over his brashness and prickly temper, I had to admire his feistiness and self-reliance, something I find many city boys on Iraq lacking."

"And I could sense that despite what he'd come to do, Rashid was an adult who cared, though when he started to be friendly my first thought was that he was just another adult who wanted the pleasure of my body."

"Which to my surprise despite his good looks nobody had yet enjoyed," Rashid observed. Seeing the look on the others' faces, he added, "boylove is more widespread throughout the Arab world than one would think, and the Imams would like to admit, and sadly, in many cases the sex is not with the boys' consent. They are often treated no more than slaves, expected to drop to their knees the moment a man raises his robes. It is a great sin, punishable by death, for a woman to have sex outside of marriage, and most women feel the only reason to have sex is to bear children or as an unpleasant duty to their husband, so men must seek to satisfy their needs in other ways, and a beautiful boy is just as charming as a beautiful woman, even more so many would claim. Although as a single man my need was great, I am not one of those who would use a boy so cruelly as to think only of my own pleasure and care not if I had his blessing."

"I knew many such men in our village who would, but I quickly realized Rashid was not that sort of man," confirmed Kareem.

"As you've observed, we did resolve our differences."

"On the slopes of Jabal Ibrahim."

"Earlier we'd had a disagreement, some point in our religious differences, I don't remember what exactly, and we'd sat there side by side and eaten our evening meal in silence. The mountains can be cold and harsh but this was a warm summer evening with the young goats frolicking in the high meadow below us and the setting sun reflecting off the peaks. It was too beautiful and peaceful to be angry. I observed that a man could easily forget the fighting and bombing that was tearing apart our country and live out his years quite contentedly with such beauty all around him."

"And I said such beauty and contentment was evidence of the greatness of Allah."

"On that I could not disagree. I stroked back his long, unkept hair and held up his chin as I looked into his eyes, and said 'yes, such beauty and contentment is evidence of the greatness of Allah'."

"I knew he meant me, and on that I could not disagree either," Kareem said with an impish grin. No matter what the country or the faith, boys are boys.

"What followed was totally spontaneous on my part, and occurred so naturally. We embraced and kissed there in the setting sun, nobody around for miles, just us and his goat herd. Of course that initial kiss sparked the lust that had been smoldering in my loins. Thirty-five years old not having once made love, and now this dirty-faced, seven-year-old rural urchin had my heart pounding and my loins aching like they never had before. Perhaps it was the statue as many of you have mentioned, but we like to think it was Allah, rewarding us for our goodness and our purity. There high in the mountains of Kurdistan with the sun setting behind the mountains I disrobed this beautiful boy with bated breath as a man might disrobe his virgin wife on her wedding night and this tangle-haired urchin opened my robes and exposed me and bent forward and went down on me as he'd heard older boys describe doing to the men in his village.

"My manhood rose immediately, as did his slender, brown organ, and we embraced and kissed passionately now, eager for pleasure and eager to please. We spread our robes out on the sparse grass and he knelt on his hands and knees and I knelt behind him and slipped the suppository up his rectum, instinctively knowing that I was to do so though at that time not knowing the purpose. Grasping his smooth, brown buttocks, I drew them apart, exposing his boyhole, and I shuffled forward and placed the tip of my aching, rock-hard cock, slick now with his spittle, against the tender opening. I pressed forward, eager for the warmth and moistness of his love canal, and he eager for my rigid manhood. Our union was smooth, and without undue pain, Allah be praised. I sank my cock deep into his body until my hairs were pressing against his smooth, soft butt, and I began the universal motions of love, drawing back and thrusting forward, working my throbbing, swollen cock in and out of his body.

"I could feel him working his rectum in time with my motions as if he had been born to be the object of a man's love. I reached down and grasping his little cocklet I began to massage it, and he squirmed and tensed with the pleasure I caused, having never before experienced the joy of masturbation, as, like myself, he had refrained from any sexual pleasure. And so we made love in the fading light, the goats about us settling in for the night and ignoring us as if what we were doing was perfectly natural, and indeed, it was. What could be more natural than a man and a boy enjoying that most exquisite pleasure known to the male? As our passions grew so did the speed with which I worked my cock in and out of his hot, moist chute, and as our speed increased so did our breathing as we openly and unashamedly grunted and gasped in our wild rutting, as we both felt the pressure developing in our loins, a pressure that neither of us had felt before.

"And then I exploded, spurting out my seed deep into his body, little aware that that seed would find fertile ground and would grow," Rashid said, looking over at their sleeping baby. "Spurt after spurt erupted from my body for the first time in my life, and Kareem trembled with the first orgasm he'd ever had, his slender body stiffening as he threw back his head with the awesome pleasure raking his body and filling his mind. I wrapped my arms about him tightly and kissed the nape of his neck and as the moon began to rise and shine down on us we thanked Allah for uniting us."

After such a romantic tale, Calvin and Jimmy were hesitant and self-conscious telling how they'd fallen in love and become parents. They were the only teenage lovers in the group, and except for Derrick, the only teenagers in the campground. They were also the only couple in the group to have impregnated each other. Once they got into their story however, their tale of their inadvertent double impregnation, mistaking the suppositories for anally administered drugs, their confusion and teenage angst over their growing love for each other and joy in what they'd previously referred to derogatorily as fag sex, their total horror and bewilderment upon finding they were each carrying a child, and their subsequent delight upon the birth of their sons and continually growing love for each other brought chuckles and tears from the group.

As was the case with other evenings of introductions, everyone went back to their campsites uplifted and with raging boners. Again the nocturnal animals looked down curiously upon the encampment of humans, sensing the pure animal lust that emanated out from the camp and throbbed through the forest and still night air. Two days later they once again gathered for a potluck supper, the last one as many of the group were leaving the next day to travel back home. It was a joyous evening, everyone having grown even closer after sharing their experiences and having gotten to know each other. The newest members of the growing group promised to keep in touch with the others, and they all agreed to meet again at Ray and Michael's campground the following summer.

Tim and his boymate Taylor, and their little son who had celebrated his second birthday there at the campsite, and Arland and his boymate Julian and their little son, now almost a month old, were staying on at the campsite for another week before making leisurely drives back home, the two teachers having the summer off. Harold had initially planned a three-week holiday and had intended on spending his last week in Los Angeles visiting a colleague with whom he'd been corresponding and going to Disneyland with Edward, but decided to extend his holiday and stay at the campground another week before heading to California. Thaddeus and Reinhard had planned their holiday together, and still having two weeks before they had to leave the United States, were planning on visiting the Grand Canyon and Yellowstone before flying back home. Rashid was flying back to Iraq tomorrow and was off on another archaeology dig in the north. Tom was heading back to his accounting business, John to his construction job, Ted to his computer tech job, and Kyle to his new job as a marine biologist at Seaport, Maine. As much as he hated to leave, Bobby had to get back to his trucking job. He and Billy had arranged with Calvin and Jimmy to look after their newest son, whom they'd called Nathan, which was ideal as it gave Billy easy access to the baby every day to bond with him and to nurse him.

Jimmy and Calvin of course were heading back to commence on their new endeavour, the Bernstein-Fields Mission for Boys. Everyone was impressed by the courage of the two teenage boys to undertake such a challenging project, especially with Jimmy just entering grade twelve and Calvin having his hands full looking after their two sons, and Aaron and John's as well, and now Bobby and Billy's.

"Orphanages, group homes, foster care programs, an adoption agency, and counselling service, on an international basis?" asked Harold. "Now that is ambitious!"

"Well, we are getting help," Calvin said, trying to sound more confident than he was. To be honest, he was scared shitless by the idea.

"What did you say the name of this group that's providing you funding and support was again?" Rashid asked with a frown.

"The Rana Anshar Ministry. Why? Have you heard of it?"

"No. But I know the name Anshar. Anshar is the name of an ancient Assyrian deity," Rashid observed, raising his eyebrow. "It is said that Apsu, the primordial ocean, joined with Tiamat, the sea, and Tiamat gave birth to two monstrous serpents called Lakhmu and Lakhamu, and the serpents gave birth to Anshar, the male principle, or the celestial world, and Kishar, the female principle, or the terrestrial world, and the two gave birth to all the great gods of the Assyrians. I'm not aware of any god by the name of Rana though."

"Assyrian eh? I thought maybe it was Chinese."

"Why would you say that?"

"The guy who phoned sounded Chinese," Calvin said, something he'd not mentioned to anyone before. They looked at him in surprise, and then at each other, all thinking of the same person. It was only then that Calvin associated his caller with the ancient everyone had talked about.

"That's no surprise. I've heard of the Rana Anshar Ministry before," announced Tom.

"You have?" Calvin asked in surprise.

"That is the ministry whose books the old oriental asked me to audit a year ago."

"I've heard the name Rana before. Rana is the common genera name for frogs," observed Kyle slowly, recalling his introductory biology classes. Like him, everyone immediately thought of the Gargoyle of Male Fecundity.

"When God talked to me, he appeared in the form of a frog. A very large, fat frog, with an extra pair of legs," revealed Klaus, something even Thaddeus had not known. That God had appeared to the staunchly Catholic boy as an ochre-coloured frog like the statue his lover had brought home had not surprised him, nor had the disappearance of the statue shortly afterwards. They had not talked about his revelation since until their arrival at the campground, and learning that others had experiences with the frog statue had not surprised the deeply religious boy either.

Nobody knew what to say as they looked at each other. They had come to the campground looking for comradery and fellowship from those who had like interests and beliefs and who'd had similar experiences. Others, like Kyle, Bobby and Harold had come hoping to find answers. They were leaving with the discovery that they had much more in common than any had suspected, and instead of answers, with even more mysteries. As they broke camp and headed back for home, they had much to think about.

Chapter 16

Nicholas Henry Frederick Phillip Billingsworth the Fifth shrugged his backpack off on the bed and flopped down on his back beside it. Staring up at the textured ceiling in total dismay, he sighed deeply as if the end of the world was eminent. He wished it was. At least he wished it would end before Thursday night. Ernest C. Golding Academy for Boys was having their first school dance of the year in six days and he still didn't have a date. Twelve years old, thirteen in another three weeks, and he didn't have a date for the dance like some freshman dweeb.

It wasn't that he hadn't had his choice of girls he could have picked from. Five foot one [1.55 m] and ninety-eight pounds [45 kg], with strong, muscular legs and firm, developing biceps, the result of daily swimming and twice-weekly soccer practice, thick, wavy, chestnut brown hair with chocolate brown eyes and long, feathery eyelashes, perfectly aligned white teeth and a rich golden tan from six weeks in the Mediterranean that summer, a straight A average at the end of grade seven without requiring much sweat, this year class rep on the Student's Council and a second year member of the chess and debating clubs, and a thousand dollar a month allowance, he could have any girl he wanted, and a score of them that he didn't want. He had all the attributes a grade eight girl would possibly want in a boy, or any junior or senior high girl for that matter, and any girl would have given her eye teeth for a date with him.

It wasn't that he wasn't interested in girls. He was twelve years old after all, thirteen in three weeks, and had reached puberty almost a year ago, and like most boys who'd entered puberty, was popping a boner daily-several times a day actually, and at the most embarrassing times. Of course he was curious about girls, and about sex. The problem was he'd just never found a girl he wanted to get intimate with. Most were plain and quite frankly boring with no interests in common with him, others were so shallow or flighty to actually be annoying, and almost all were snobbish and self-centred, making them ideal dates for many of guys attending Ernest C. Golding but not him. Unlike most of his classmates and friends he was not one to put on airs or look down his nose at others. Oh there were a few girls he did enjoy being with, that he'd met through the debate and chess clubs or at sporting events, but he really had no desire to date them. That was really what was irritating him at the moment. Of all the girls he knew, of all the girls he liked, of all those who flirted with him because of the catch he was, and of those whose parents were throwing them at him because any Billingsworth was a catch, there was not one, not a single one, that he'd care to ball. Nicholas Henry Frederick Phillip Billingsworth the Fifth, thirteen years old in three weeks, was still a virgin and had totally zero desire to ball a girl.

What made it worse was that he was expected to want to. His parents expected him to and were always arranging meetings with this girl or that, mostly because her parents were rich or powerful or famous, and fostering a friendship with them was certainly to their benefit, just like the parents of some of the girls were always arranging opportunities for their daughters to meet him, because the Billingsworths were rich, powerful, and famous. Society expected him to. He was a boy, soon to be a teenager. He was supposed to be a walking bag of hormones with a perpetual erection and with nothing but sex on his mind. Sitcoms said so, clothing ads said so, grooming ads said so, hell, ads for asswipe said so. And his peers expected him to. Even the geekiest, nerdiest boy at Ernest C. Golding Academy was expected to want to screw girls.

Nicholas Henry Frederick Phillip Billingsworth the Fifth could have any girl he wanted, his age or older, even a few mothers if he was so inclined, and he could charm them into doing whatever his perverted adolescent mind wanted them to. He could even just sit back and let them pursue him for whatever perverted reasons they had on their hormone-driven minds. He could, but he didn't want to.

So what did he want? That he did not want to think about. Ten months ago, the end of November of last year, he'd had his first sexual experience, a blow job by a three-year-old toddler under the table at a restaurant while he'd sat there with his parents, and he had not been able to get that experience out of his mind ever since. Last New Years Eve he'd gotten his second blow job from the toddler, and his ass rimmed and fucked by a ten-year-old who claimed to have given birth to the toddler. The ten-year-old kid had to be mental, and the three-year-old too for that matter, but he knew how to give one hell of a rim job and how to fuck a guy's brains out. It had been awesome. Sex with a ten-year-old boy and a three-year-old toddler had been awesome. There were words for guys who like to have sex with guys, and for guys who liked to have sex with little kids. Nicholas Henry Frederick Phillip Billingsworth the Fifth was not a faggot and he was not a pedo. He could not be.

Nick's eyes were drawn to the closet where, behind some shoe boxes of souvenirs and mementos, a stack of car magazines, and a couple stuffed animals he'd had as child and couldn't part with, was a grotesque ochre-coloured statue of a pregnant frog with three pairs of legs and an erect prick. He'd gotten it at an antique shop in New York City last Easter, five and a half months ago, along with a packet of four tan three-quarter inch [2 cm] suppositories stashed away in the back of the bottom drawer of his desk. It was just like the kid who'd rimmed his asshole had said. Except it didn't work. He'd tried it. As soon as he'd brought it back home, he'd tried thinking of whom he'd like to screw and have a baby with, Stacey Allison from his grade eight class who had a body every boy in Ernest C. Golding Academy wanted to ball, a couple cheerleaders in high school who had boobs as big as soccer balls, Mary Blackmore who wasn't that stacked but was sort of nice, even Miss Blancharte who taught high school art and had all the high school guys walking around with their tongues hanging out. None of them. He'd even gotten goofy and thought of some guys, weird Alfred Blake whom everyone figured for a fag, Brad Stornway, the captain and star player on his soccer team who was a real beefcake and could also have any girl he wanted and if you believed him did, his best buddy Patrick, even Nick, the youngest member of his favourite boy band, the Jonas brothers. Nothing. It was dumb. And he was out four hundred bucks.

He got changed for dinner. They were having the Kilpatricks over, the Kilpatricks of the Chicago Rail and Transport Kilpatricks, social friends of his parents. His mother knew Mrs Kilpatrick from a couple charities they had worked on together, and his father and Mister Kilpatrick belonged to the same golf club and worked out at the same gym. He'd met their daughter, Karalee, a few times and she seemed nice enough and they had a son whose name he couldn't remember. His parents and the Kilpatricks were not close friends, but they did have some common interests, and on a business basis it was not a bad idea to get to know each other better.

Upon seeing Karalee, Nick decided it would not be a bad idea to get to know her better either. She was a few months older than he was and had blossomed out since he'd seen her last, all in the right places. Throughout dinner he couldn't keep his eyes off her, or at least her boobs, which were very nicely displayed in a tight, low-cut blouse. One of the interests their parents had in common was the opera, which lead to a discussion of music, including the music interests of their children, which they found obscene and distasteful as it has been between generations for ages.

"Karalee is obsessed with this latest boy band, what is the name, Jonah or something?" observed her mother.

"The Jonas Brothers, mother, and I'm not obsessed," she objected.

"Who has every one of their albums?"

"Well, yeah," she replied.

"Have you a copy of their music video Burnin' Up?" asked Nick.

"No. I tried to get a copy, but they were all sold out."

"Would you like to see it after dinner?"

"You have a copy!"

"Yeah."

"That's one of Nicholas's favourite bands too," his mother observed.

"Really? Wicked!"

After dinner they headed up to Nicholas's room, Karalee's father, much to her embarrassment, sending her six-year-old kid brother, Kerry, along as a chaperone. Spotting Nicholas's collection of model vintage cars and his classic auto magazines, Kerry sat down on the floor with them totally absorbed, unable to believe he was being allowed to look at them and touch them. Nick and Karalee could have made out right there on the bed and he wouldn't have noticed. The thought did occur to Nick. He was, after all, a normal, healthy, red-blooded American boy, thirteen in three weeks, and she did have a nice pair of boobs and a nice ass. He tried to imagine her without her dress on, which was not difficult given the short skirt and the low-cut blouse she was wearing, resulting in an instant stirring Nick's trousers. He imagined her in silk pink panties with lace and dainty flowers, and then in a sexy black lace bra and underwear. Deciding on the latter he removed her underwear in his mind, and then imagined the two of them lying down on his bed 3;

Although her attention was on the video, Karalee could not help notice Nicholas's attention. She was use to that. She knew she had good looks and a sexy body. He was not the first boy to have that look in his eyes and she'd much sooner boys have that look than the look they had for some of the girls in her class, girls who had not been as fortunate as she had been in the gene pool. Actually, she didn't mind the looks Nicholas was giving her at all. He was good looking and had a great body himself, and those chocolate brown eyes and feathery eyelashes were sending quivers between her legs also. She casually spread her legs, accidentally brushing up against his thigh. She could see the bulge along his left thigh swell. Boys were so funny. She'd hate to have something so obvious between her legs. It had to be awkward for them.

It was awkward, in the state he'd gotten in, and he turned his attention to the video and concentrated on the screen, trying to block out what he'd been thinking, that she was sitting there beside him, that her knee was rubbing against his thigh. She had to have done it on purpose. Holy crap! He suddenly remembered the statue and glanced up at the top shelf in his closet. When he'd taken down some of his magazines for Kerry to look at, he'd quickly stuffed his panda and stuffed lion over in the corner and moved a couple boxes in front of them. How embarrassing it would have been had she spotted his stuffed toys! He hadn't thought about the obscene statue that was now sitting on the shelf staring at them. Actually, on the other hand, it might be good if she did see it. It would give them something to talk about, and from talking about the big penis on a ceramic frog, it wouldn't be a big leap to talking about his big penis. Big leap. That was a funny pun, in several ways. He'd have to remember it. The statue stared back at him blankly, just like it had for the past five months, without a change. Definitely a fake.

He wondered how far she would go if her stupid kid brother wasn't there. Maybe he should get rid of the kid, suggest he take some of his model cars and go in the next room and play with them, take a deck of cards and make roads with them. He'd done that when he'd been his age and had played for hours. The cars were expensive and normally he wouldn't let anyone even touch them, but for a chance for a fuck, or even to cop a few feels, it would be worth it. He glanced down at Kerry. He was sitting on the floor on his haunches with his back to them. His trousers had slid down and his shirt had slid up, revealing a strip of white backside and the beginning of his ass cleft. He was a cute kid actually, thick, curly reddish-brown hair, green eyes, a freckled nose, cherry red lips. He could slip those lips over his aching cock any time, or push those trousers down further and let him stick his prick up his tight ass. He knew what getting a blow job was like, and getting his ass fucked. It would be interesting to see what it was like to fuck someone's ass. Even rim him like he'd been rimmed. His swollen cock throbbed with the thought and a dollop of pre-cum oozed out the tip. He'd better stop thinking such shit or he'd be creaming his shorts! He glanced up at the Gargoyle of Male Fecundity. Oh crap! The tip of its penis was a bright red. And it was smiling at him. He was sure it was smiling.

His cock pounded even harder, throbbing like his heart did after swimming four lengths of the pool. He could feel the blood throbbing through it against his thigh. He'd never felt so hard or so horny. He glanced away from the leering statue and stared at the Jonas brothers on the screen and concentrated on the music. He wouldn't mind any one of them giving him a blow job. How often had he pictured them in his mind doing just that as he'd jerked off at night? At the MTV Video Music Awards Russell Brand had made fun of the rings they wore on their ring finger on their left hand. Promise rings they'd called them. Their promise to God to remain pure until their marriage. Brand had held up a ring and joked that he'd taken one of the brother's virginity, and he'd said he'd take them more series if they wore their rings on their genitals. He got into a lot of shit over those comments from the Jonas Brother's fans. He'd thought it funny himself. For days afterward he'd imagined taking their virginities, Kevin's Joe's, and especially Nick's. He'd imagined them stripping and revealing silver rings around their genitals. What would Karalee think if she knew what he'd imagined her favourite band doing?

At that moment he ached for them like he'd never ached for them before in any of his jerk off fantasies. He had to get his mind off them. He glanced back down at Kerry. If anything would get his mind off sex, looking at a six-year-old boy would do it. Kerry leaned forward for another magazine and his briefs and trousers slid down further. Christ he had awesome buns. Smooth, white, like two balls of dough about to be popped into the oven. He'd love to pop his dick up that ass. He bet it was hot and tight and moist. And if Billy and the old ripoff artist who'd given him the statue was right, filling his ass with his cum would result in the six-year-old having a kid in his oven, his kid.

Oh crap no! Fuckin' crap! He couldn't stop it! His nuts constricted and he felt his juice gushing up the core of his aching cock. He clamped his peehole shut and clenched his ass as tight as he could but it was impossible to hold it back. It spurted out of his swollen cock and flooded down his left thigh. It spread around his leg and oozed between his thigh and his now tight nuts. Spurt after fucking spurt. He'd never come so hard or so much in his fucking life! Fucking shit Almighty! He was creaming his shorts, there, sitting on his bed, sitting beside a girl, her knee still pressing against his right thigh, thinking about screwing her kid brother's ass. His thin, watery, preteen cum was starting to soak through his trouser leg. A big, wet, dark spot. It felt so wet, so sticky.

"Ah, excuse me," he blurted, dropping his hand over the wet spot and dashing out of the room.

Racing into the bathroom, he pushed down his trousers and his boxers. Thin, sticky streamers stretched from a puddle of cum clinging to the top of his thigh to his boxers. His underwear was soaked with the slime. His dick, starting to go limp now, was slick with it. A thin, white film was clinging to his nuts still tightly drawn up beneath his slimy dick. He turned and looked at himself in the mirror. His crotch and underwear and thighs were a fucking, sticky mess. How could it all have come from his balls? He'd never come so much in all his fucking life. It was going to take a wad of toilet tissue to wipe up his gunk. And what the fuck was he going to do about the big stain on his trouser leg? It was going to be rather obvious walking around with his left hand grasping his thigh. This was the most fucking embarrassing moment in his life.

The bathroom door opened. Kerry stood there wide-eyed in surprise. Correction. Now this was the most fucking embarrassing moment in his life. "Close the fuckin' door!" Kerry stepped into the bathroom and closed the door. Little idiot! He meant close it with him on the other side. If he told him that now, Karalee would probably be standing on the other side, or his mom! "Don't you know when the door is closed the bathroom is occupied?" he snapped.

"I thought you might need help."

"Help?"

"I saw the way you looked when you ran out of the room, and the wet spot on your pants," he replied, glancing down at Nick's lowered trousers. "I thought you maybe peed. It happens to me sometimes, if I'm busy playing and wait too long to go. I thought maybe you'd like me to get you a clean pair of pants." He stared at Nick's slimed legs and crotch. "What is that?"

"Gunk. Ball slime. Juice. Semen."

"You want me to get your mom?"

"No!"

"Are you hurt? You need a doctor or something?"

"No, no, I'm okay," Nick replied, realizing the kid had to be in even more of a shock than he was. He took a deep breath and calmed down. "I'm okay. It happens some times, just, just not so suddenly."

"It does?" He was still staring at Nick's slime-dripping crotch. Somehow, Nick didn't mind. It was done. There was nothing he could do about it now.

"Yeah, to older guys, when you've reached pub-when you're in your teens, when, when you get excited."

"Does it hurt?"

"No. Not at all. In fact it feels good."

"It does?" the boy asked in surprise and a hint of disbelief.

"Yeah. It feels really good actually. In fact guys make it come out on purpose."

"How do they do that?"

"They rub their dick with their hands, or if there's two of them, they can do other things, like lick each other's dick."

"Ewww!" Kerry responded, wrinkling up his nose.

"It's not that bad. Dick actually tastes quite good," he said, an idea suddenly coming to his mind. He didn't know how it tasted of course, having never been on the sucking end, but it couldn't be that bad. Fags did it. And Billy Bob had certainly seemed to enjoy it. "So does a guy's juice. Sort of like 3; nuts."

"Nuts?" Kerry giggled. "Huh-huh. That's what some guys call, huh-huh, you know," he giggled, his eyes sparkling with amusement and the secret word only boys knew.

"Yeah, a guy's nuts taste good too. A little salty. Salted nuts."

Kerry giggled even louder. Nick's dick began to swell again. He studied the wide-eyed youngster unabashedly staring at his crotch. He had such ruby lips. Why not? Despite having just shot the biggest load of his life, he was feeling horny again. Another inspiration hit him. Reaching down and swiping up a gob of slime from his thigh he popped it in his mouth. He'd tasted his cum once. Just barely touching it with the tip of his index finger, a spot so small you could barely see it, and dabbing his tongue with it. He'd been curious, that was all. It hadn't been bad. Sort of sweet actually. This was a lot more, and maybe not as sweet, but not bad. Sort of nutty he thought with a smile. And slimy. Like the white from a poached egg.

"You wanna try some?"

"Un-un," Kerry responded as he took a step back, his face and voice showing his repugnance.

"That's okay. I guess if I was a little kid I'd be scared too."

"I'm not scared."

"That's okay," Nick said, taking a swipe of cum from his balls and slipping his finger in his mouth. He sucked on it exaggeratedly and closed his eyes and sighed as if it was honey. "Maybe when you're bigger."

"It really taste like nuts?"

"Sortta. It's hard to describe. What I like best is how slimy it feels oozing over your tongue."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah, it's great," Nick said as convincingly as he could. Actually, it was not bad, and it was sort of erotic. His cock grew another fraction. "You can try just a little bit if you want. Just a little dab, like this," he said, demonstrating with his index finger. "If you don't like it, you can spit it in the toilet, but I know you'll like it."

Kerry reached out tentatively and touched the thick patch on Nick's thigh. As he drew his finger away, a streamer remained attached, extending between his finger and Nick's leg. The farther he pulled back the longer it stretched. The sight was so erotic Nick's prick began to rise. It finally broke off and hung there from the tip of his finger, a long, thin pendant. Kerry raised his finger and brought it closer to his face and slowly stuck out his tongue. Crap! That was fucking hot! Nicholas's cock was rising rapidly. Feeling the slime touch his tongue he quickly drew his tongue in his mouth and the cum streamer broke off his finger to now droop over his ruby lower lip and over his chin. Nick laughed and Terry giggled. Nick scooped up another glob of cum and sucked it off his finger, his cock now jutting up in the air.

"I wish I could lick it off my dick," he observed.

Kerry looked at his dick. It was tempting, but it was a guy's dick. Nick could see the temptation in his eyes.

"Well, I can't lick mine, but I can lick yours," Nick observed, hoping by taking the lead the kid would follow.

Dropping to his knees, he undid the boy's belt and pulled down his fly. Kerry didn't object. Pushing down his trousers, he reached up and eased his tight white briefs down, revealing his little pink wiener and marble-sized balls. God he looked so delightful. He couldn't be more than three foot five [1.04 m] and forty-five pounds [20½ kg] and his dick not even an inch [2½ cm] long. Sitting down on his heels, Nick leaned forward and took the little dicklet in his mouth. Fuck, it was so silky, and so small. He sucked gently on it, allowing his spittle to bathe it, to lube up his long foreskin. He swallowed the dick-flavoured spittle and worked his lips up and down the length of the slender little noodle. He could feel it starting to get hard. Fuck, the kid was getting a boner. Pressing his lips together tighter, he pushed back the kid's foreskin with them and ran his tongue over the kid's knob, causing him to squirm sharply and pull his dick out of his mouth. Christ, the knob looked so red and wet, like a raw oyster.

"Sorry, did that hurt?"

"Unh-unh," Kerry replied. "It felt 3; tickly."

"It tastes fuckin' awesome," Nick observed, licking his lips in the hopes of encouraging the kid to try his. He leaned forward and licked it, swirling his tongue around the still limp noodle. He ran his tongue over the boy's hairless balls. They were definitely salty. He returned to his dick, licking it, sucking it. It was soon hard and jutting up in the air, just over an inch [2½ cm] long. Nick's was still stiff and aching now. He stood up. "Wanna try mine now?"

Kerry looked at it. It was only four inches [10 cm] long, but to the six-year-old it was gigantic, and it still had smears of that white stuff on it.

"You don't have to if you don't want to. I understand. Leaves more semen for me to eat."

Nick hadn't called him a little kid or said that he was scared, but he could tell that was what the older boy was thinking from the tone of his voice. Well, he wasn't a little kid, and he wasn't scared. He just wasn't sure, but not scared. Leaning forward hesitantly, he ran his tongue up the shaft. The slimy semen stuff did feel funny on his tongue. It made his stiff wiener jerk. He licked again and his wiener jerked again. He tried his balls. They did taste sort of like nuts, peanuts, salted peanuts. A gob of semen was stuck in Nick's curly hairs above his stiff dick. On impulse he leaned over and sucked the gob into his mouth. That really made his dick jerk, and Nick's too, which was funny. Nick smiled and leaned over and kissed him, on the lips. Some of his semen stuff stuck to his lips and formed a sticky strand between them, breaking off and landing on his chin. Nick wiped it off with a finger and laughed and Kerry giggled.

Nick sat down on the toilet and spread his legs and Kerry knelt between them. Wrapping his fingers about the base of his cock, he licked it like it was a popsicle, swirling his tongue around the shaft and around the knob, licking it clean of the semen stuff. Nick reached down and began to fiddle with his stiff wiener, sending tingles of pleasure through his knob. He took the knob of Nick's cock in his mouth and began to suck on it. As Nick fiddled with his dicklet and twirled the sensitive, exposed knob in his fingers it sent tingles of arousal and desire through the swollen flesh and Kerry sucked harder on Nick's slender, four-inch [10 cm] cock. He slipped his lips further down, taking half of it in his mouth, and then drew his lips back up as Nick instructed. His mouth filled with spit and he swallowed the prick-flavoured spittle as the tingles up his little pecker grew stronger and stronger, itchier and itchier. Like an itch it sort of hurt, but it felt so much better when Nick rubbed it, and when he stopped he wanted him to continue and began to jerk his hips to and fro, rubbing his cocklet in his fingers. That was fucking hot and Nick let the little horny bugger fuck his fingers as he sucked on his cock and bobbed his head up and down. It did not take long for Nick to approach his second peak.

"Let's suck each other," Nick suggested. The two lay down on the bathroom floor in a sixty-nine position, Nick having to curl his body to accommodate for Kerry's shorter height. "When I'm ready to squirt my stuff I'll tell you. You can stop sucking and I'll shoot in the toilet, or you can keep sucking and catch my stuff in your mouth and spit it out in the toilet, or your can swallow it, whatever you want. Understand?"

Kerry nodded his head and the two boys began to suck each other's stiff, aching cock. Having his cock sucked was a totally new experience for the six-year-old and he squirmed with the strange new pleasure causing his swollen little dick to throb and itch. Nick was already hot and the squirming of the six-year-old and knowing that he was feeling the pleasure of an aching hardon for the first time got him even hotter. This was unreal. There he was lying on the upstairs bathroom floor sucking on a six-year-old kid's cock and the kid sucking his while the kid's sister, who any guy his age would be hot to ball, was sitting in his bedroom on his bed watching a video by herself and their parents were downstairs talking, totally ignorant of what was happening. He could not believe it. His swollen cock was throbbing like mad and he could feel the tension building in his balls. He grimaced and held back, wanting Kerry to enjoy his new pleasure and his first time as long as he could. It would be fucking awesome to bring the kid off for his first time ever. He stopped for a moment to enjoy the pleasure of having his cock sucked and the thought of bringing the kid his first orgasm, but Kerry was having none of that. He began to pump his hips to and fro, working his little dick in and out of his mouth faster and faster, his hot breath snorting out his nose and into Nick's damp, curly hairs. Suddenly he began to jerk and thrash on the floor like he'd gone mad. He had in a sense as his first orgasm racked his body and his six-year-old mind. That was just too hot for Nick.

"I'm gonna shoot," he warned, feeling his cum already starting to race up the core of his numb cock.

Wanting to see how he shot and his mind numbed by the never-before felt pleasure, Kerry slipped his mouth off Nick's cock in a daze, but the aroused twelve-year-old could not get to his feet in time. Kerry saw how a boy shot his semen, right in his face. Squirt after watery squirt blasted from Nick's throbbing, wildly jerking cock, lacing the six-year-old's reddish-brown hair and his face and shooting directly into his gaping mouth. The thin preteen cum ran down his cheeks and over his chin and hung in a pearly pendant from his nose as he lay there in open mouthed surprise, still recovering from his own orgasm. Nick was panting like he'd just run three circuits around the soccer field as he squirmed around to face the boy.

Sticking out his tongue, Kerry licked the fresh slime off his lips and drew it into his mouth. Nicholas laughed and so did Kerry. Leaning forward, the spent boy stuck his tongue out also and licked a watery streamer from Kerry's face, causing another dollop to ooze out the tip of his swollen cock. Reaching down and squeezing the still stiff tube, Kerry drew his fist up, squeezing the dollop out onto his clenched fist and then raised it to his mouth and sucked the boy slime into his mouth. Licking another streamer off his face, Nick scooped up a third and offered it to his young suck buddy, who eagerly slipped his lips about his finger and sucked the slime off. They were wet and sticky and smelled of cock and fresh cum.

"That was wicked," Nick said as the two of them finally got to their feet. Kerry pulled up his trousers and underwear and Nick removed his wet, sticky boxers and put his trousers back on. The stain was obvious but there wasn't much he could do about it.

"Yeah. You wanna do it again sometime?"

"Sure! You want to go to the Speedway tomorrow?"

"The Speedway?"

"The Pearson Speedway. Car races."

"Awesome!"

The video had finished and Karalee had gone downstairs by the time they got back having grown tired of waiting. Nick quickly changed his trousers. If she'd been annoyed at his extended absence or wondered why the two of them had disappeared into the bathroom so long she didn't indicate anything. As the Kilpatricks prepared to leave, Nicholas cleared taking Kerry to the car races the next day. They were surprised he was asking to take Kerry and not his sister but saw no problem with it. Kerry gave him a curious look as she left, bewildered and taken aback, and, Nick thought, as if he were crazy. He probably was.

All he could think of for the rest of the evening was what he had done and how great it had been, and taking Kerry to the car races tomorrow and what he'd like to do with him and how and where he might broach the subject. He was in a constant state of erection and had to jack one off that night before he went to sleep despite having come twice that evening already and hoping to shoot one off tomorrow. His load was just as copious as the first two, but then, he was twelve. The tip of the statue's dick was glowing a bright red and looked shiny in the moonlight shining in through his bedroom window.

He had Leonard, their chauffer, take him and Kerry to the races the next afternoon and drop him off. Normally he and his father went, but his father had a business appointment, and that was fine with Nicholas. In that his father was sponsoring one of the drivers, they had their own private box seats, and he was able to take Kerry to meet the driver and to see the bay where they stored the car and serviced it before and after the races.

"Look, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to go," their driver said. The mechanics had already checked the car out after the races and had covered it and left.

"Hey, that's okay. Just lock the door and I'll make sure it's closed when we leave."

"Yeah. Okay." It was the owner's kid. He wasn't going to argue.

"This day's been super," Kerry observed, glancing wide-eyed around the shop.

"Glad you liked it."

"It's been the best ever," the six-year-old said brightly. "Well, next to yesterday," he said with a grin as he looked up at Nicholas.

"Yeah, well, I can make today as good as yesterday if you want."

"You mean we can do what we did yesterday?" he asked hopefully and with all the openness of a six-year-old child.

"Yeah. Or we can do something even better."

"Better?" Kerry looked up at Nick brightly and expectantly.

Looking around and spotting some mats in the corner of the shop, Nick dragged one out. "We'd better take our clothes off so we don't get them dirty."

"Okay," the youngster agreed readily.

Stripping down naked and hanging their clothes up beside the coveralls hanging on the wall, the two laid down on the mat and Nicholas took the six-year-old in his arms and began to kiss and caress him, and the youngster followed his lead and did likewise. Reaching down and fondling the youngster's little cocklet, Nick was delighted when Kerry reached down and did likewise. It was not long before the two boys had gotten each other hard. Taking another foam mat and folding it over a couple times, Nick had Kerry lie on his back with his hips on the folded mat and explained what he intended on doing. The youngster readily agreed. He was willing to do whatever his new hero suggested, and especially when he said it would feel even better than yesterday.

Getting up and retrieving the grease gun where he'd seen it laying on the workbench, Nick squeezed out a dollop and proceeded to grease up Kerry's hole, smearing the black grease over his pucker and slipping his finger inside, causing Kerry to squirm and giggle. Wiping off the remaining grease on his fingers on his stiff cock, Nick got into position and placed the tip of his cock against the boy's hole. The axle grease, Kerry's eagerness, Nick's slenderness, and the two boys being horny as fuck, he penetrated the boy on the first try. As he felt his stiff cock entering the boy's hot, moist chamber, Nick could not help but wonder if that was how it felt to fuck a girl's pussy, and as he felt Kerry's asshole clamp down on his cock, he figured it had to be even better. A girl's cunt couldn't be as hot or as tight as a boy's asshole. He easily pushed his four inches [10 cm] up the youngster's rectum, and balancing on his knees and grasping Kerry's hips with his hands, he began to pump his hips to and fro, driving his young, slender cock in and out of the boy's rectum

Kerry squirmed with this new pleasure, his bumhole burning and itching just like the head of his wiener had the day before, and as Nick pumped his cock in and out of his hole, he reached down and began to fiddle with his stiff little cocklet, doubling his pleasure. Nick was right. This was even better than the day before. To his disappointment, Nick suddenly pulled his cock out and stood up before they got to the good part.

"Did you shoot your stuff already?"

"No. Forgot something." Heading over to his clothes, he took the packet out of his pocket and returned with one of the suppositories.

"Would you like a baby?"

"That's a baby?" Kerry asked, his eyes widening as he looked at the tan three-quarter inch [2 cm] suppository.

"No. But it can make one."

"How?"

"We got to stick it up your bum." Kerry giggled. "And then do what we were doing until I shoot my semen up your bum too."

"Okay." He really didn't care, as long as Nick made him feel as good as he had started to feel before Nick had stopped.

Inserting the suppository, Nick once again knelt behind the boy and between his outspread legs and slipped his stiff cock up the boy's ass. He didn't really believe what they were doing would actually result in a baby, and being only twelve, he didn't really want to have a baby, and wouldn't know what to do if they actually made one, but that's what Billy and the old Chinaman had said to do and that was good enough for him. Besides, he'd paid four hundred dollars for them so he might as well use them.

Kerry resumed fiddling with himself as Nick once again began screwing his ass, and the combination of the pleasure of his pulsating, itching cocklet and that of his pulsating, itching asshole soon had the boy grunting and gasping and squirming on the mat with the greatest pleasure he'd ever felt. Nick was just as aroused, and he pumped the boy's ass furiously, delighting in the throbbing of his swollen cock and the building pressure in his groin, delighting in his first fuck. Sure, it was with a boy, a six-year-old, but that didn't matter. In fact it was even better with a guy. He'd had his own ass fucked and knew how great it had felt so he knew exactly how pleasant it was for Kerry. That was more than a guy could say for a girl-well, unless he fucked her ass though he figured it might be different for a girl since she had a cunt would expect a guy to fuck it instead. Besides, a girl would have no idea what it felt like to be the fucker whereas Kerry knew exactly what it felt like to have a swollen, aching cock. Sure, it was barely an inch [2½ cm] long, but that didn't matter. Of course he didn't know what it was like to squirt yet, but he would in time, and he did know what it was like to have an orgasm even if he couldn't squirt.

Closing his eyes in ecstasy, Nick worked his swollen cock in and out of the boy's hot, clenching asshole, delighting in the pleasure of having his aching cock surrounded by hot boy flesh and delighting in the knowledge he was bringing Kerry the most exquisite pleasure a guy could feel, having a hard, hot cock shoved up his ass and having an aching boner himself. The way Kerry was squirming and gasping, there was no question he was feeling pleasure. His chest was rising and falling and he was grunting and snorting like a rutting piglet as he wildly wanked on his little, stiff cocklet, and Nick plowed him all the harder, gasping for breath and snorting with exertion and with ecstasy, fucking faster and faster as he felt his climax approaching.

And then Kerry was spasming on the carpet, grunting and swealing with delight as his orgasm ripped through his groin and Nick let loose, shooting his thin, watery preteen cum up the boy's asshole. It was delightful, and his head spun as his pumped out his preteen juice, his swollen four-inch [10 cm] cock the centre of his attention. It was his first fuck as the one doing the fucking, and it was totally awesome. His chest heaving and his cock buried up the six-year-old's ass, he leaned over and the two kissed, their bodies flushed and hot with arousal, their hearts filled with love. After a fifteen minute rest, they did it again and it was every bit as wonderful. Everyone at the race track had left long ago and Nick knew his chauffer would be wondering and worrying what the fuck he was doing and where the fuck he was, but that didn't matter. He was just a chauffer, and he'd told him that when he was ready for him he'd call him. He wouldn't question him. As the two flushed, glassy-eyed boys climbed into the limo an hour later, Nicholas was right.

As Nick crawled into bed that night he couldn't be more delighted. The past two days had been totally awesome. He still didn't have a date for the Freshman Dance but he didn't give a damn. He might not even go to it. He'd had his first fuck that day and was in love. They had words for guys who liked guys, and for guys who liked little boys, and they could all screw off. There was nothing dirty or sinful about what they'd done and he didn't feel the slightest bit filthy, guilty or ashamed. He was in love, totally and completely, and as impossible as it was, if he and his beloved could have a baby besides it would be perfect. What could complete their love for each other more than to have a son? The adult Billingsworths and Kilpatricks had wanted to get to know each other better, Nicholas and Karl seeing the financial benefits of a business partnership, and their wives seeing the social benefits of a romantic relationship between their children considering the comparable wealth and social standing of the two families. What none of them could have expected was that they'd be drawn closer together by a romantic relationship between their two sons!

While Nicholas Henry Frederick Phillip Billingsworth the Fifth was embarking on a new and exciting adventure, Billy, Aaron and Taylor had settled in to the new year. Taylor, now seven, was in Grade Two. Billy and Aaron were now in Grade Six, and to their delight, had found themselves in the same classroom. All three boys were good students, pulling off A's and B's and thoroughly enjoying their new classes and new teachers. After school Aaron headed to the apartment where he and his baby John Billy Porter-Watson, JB, now a year and a half old, lived with his brother Jimmy and Jimmy's lover Calvin and their two eighteen-month-old babies. Taylor came with him to breast feed and play with his little five-month-old baby Jacob until his dad or occasionally his mom came home from work and picked him up. Frequently the two boys would first accompany Billy, who'd turned eleven in September, to the daycare where they picked up Billy Bob, who'd had his fourth birthday in August. Bobby picked Billy Bob up from the apartment on his way home from work, or Billy Bob stayed with Jimmy and Calvin if Bobby was on an overnight haul. With the number of babies needing care, the enterprising teens had started up their own nursery and daycare as part of the Bernstein-Fields Mission for Boys. Of course Billy, Bobby and Billy Bob tried to spend as much time as they could with their new son and brother, Nathan.

Billy Bob had settled in at the Kiddyland Daycare also, the cherubic and outgoing youngster joining friends made the previous year and making new friends this year. One of his old friends was Kwame Meridith who'd been one of many boys who'd vied for his friendship and to snuggle up to him last year when Kwame was in Kindergarten. He was now six and in grade one, being dropped off by the school bus at the Daycare to wait until his uncle Nat picked him up, his mother, a nurse, and father, a police officer, being on shift work whereas his uncle, being a jazz trumpet player, worked nights and was more often available to pick up his nephew, and to start supper for the family with whom he was living. Nat, Kwame, and Kwame's parents were originally from New Orleans until the hurricane Katrina had destroyed their homes and they'd moved out of the demolished city. It was taking the wages of all three of them to afford their new home in their new city, but they were happy and the future looked bright.

"Uncle Nat!" Kwame shouted happily, spotting his uncle as he came in the door. Racing over to him, he leaped in his arms and gave him a big kiss.

"Hello nephew," the man greeted with a big grin. "And how was your day?"

"Great! And how was yours?"

"Great too. They have fresh shrimp at the market today. You ready for my favourite gumbo tonight?"

"Oh yeah!"

"Well, grab your stuff then."

Kwame picked up his school pack. "Gotta go, Billy Bob. See ya tomorrow."

Billy Bob got up from where they had been playing trucks and gave the black boy a big hug and a kiss, on the lips. "Bye, see ya."

Ah, to be a child again and so innocent, Nat thought, to be able to kiss on the lips and not have a second thought about it. Billy Bob looked up at him and he could swear the boy looked like he was thinking, why not, and why don't you too? Of course it wasn't the first time he'd seen the boys do that, and the toddler didn't just do it with his nephew. He seemed to do it with all the kids, at least all the boys. He'd have to have a talk with Kwame about that. He was six now. He couldn't go around getting kissed on the lips by another boy. Billy Bob continued to stare at him, as if thinking, I can read your mind and you're crazy-you'd love to kiss him on the lips yourself. Nat looked down at his nephew. He would love kissing the boy on the lips. Kwame was pure African-American, both sides of the family, as far back as they knew. Tar black, thick lips, pug nose, dense, tightly curled hair, big expression-filled eyes, he was the type of cute black kid you saw on TV ads. Who wouldn't want to kiss such a beautiful boy on the lips? He felt a stirring in his pants.

"Bye Mister Griffin."

"Bye Billy Bob," he said, smiling down at the tyke.

"Kiss?"

He smiled and crouched down, ready to kiss the boy on the forehead. Billy Bob was faster and planted a kiss on his lips. His lips were smooth and sweet and his breath so fresh, and he smelt so clean, like the air after a rain. There was a very definite stirring in his pants. The boy stepped back and smiled at him with all the trust and innocence of a four-year-old and a look that seemed to be saying, see, it feels great to kiss a kid. You should do it with Kwame. You should show him how much you love him. You love him a lot. I can tell. Your pickle is swelling. Nat smiled at Billy Bob as he stood and reached out and took Kwame's hand. He felt good, very good. He did love Kwame, more than an uncle-nephew type of love, much more. He felt a surge of desire pass over him. It seemed each time he picked him up at the daycare the feeling was stronger.

As he began preparing supper, he thought about Kwame. It wasn't the first time he'd had such feelings for his nephew. He'd had them for years, back when they'd lived together in New Orleans. They'd just grown stronger this past year. He'd had such feelings for other boys too in the past, before Kwame had been born and afterward, neighbourhood boys, boys who accompanied their parents to the bistros he frequented in the Big Easy and clubs he played at. Some of those feelings he'd acted on, with boys who were willing, boys who would probably grow up being boylovers themselves, kissing, touching, never more than that with boys Kwame's age, but more than that with older boys, boys on the verge of puberty, boys approaching their teens. He'd had the same desires for Kwame but he'd never acted on them, and never would, not with his younger sister's boy.

Still, why not? Didn't his nephew deserve the same special love and caring that he'd extended to other boys, children of strangers? Why not a boy of his own blood and kin? So what if he was his sister's child? The other boys he'd loved-he'd never say molested for he always made sure they knew what he was going to do and that they knew they could stop it whenever they wanted, and not one of them ever expressed regret for what they'd done-their mothers were likely someone's sister too.

He'd make sure it was the same with Kwame. He'd make sure the boy understood just how special and how powerful that intimacy was. He'd be sure the boy knew he didn't have to participate if he didn't want to, and that he could stop it the moment he felt the slightest bit uncomfortable. It could be good, very good, better than with any of the other boys. Kwame was of his own flesh and blood, his sister's child. He knew him better than any boy he'd ever had sex with. He knew his likes and dislikes, his fears and what made him happy, his dreams and his hopes. He'd love to make the boy happy in that very special way that only a man and a boy could know. It could be the most perfect love of all.

"Uncle Nat? Uncle Nat? Uncle Nat!" Nat's mind came back to the present. "I've finished setting the table."

"Oh, great. You're a great help. There's still some sourdough buns left from yesterday. Why don't you put them on a plate and put them in the microwave, and get out the butter?"

Kwame smiled with the appreciation his uncle had shown and hurried to do his next job. Nat smiled as he watched the boy. He loved to help. His tongue slipping out the corner of his mouth as he concentrated carrying the plate piled with buns to the microwave without dropping any, he put it down on the counter and crawled up onto the chair to reach the oven. Opening it, he bent over and reached for the plate, his tongue slipping out the corner of his mouth again as he reached up and put the plate in the oven, his shirt riding up and his trousers slipping down to reveal his tight white jockey shorts and his compact butt. Nat wanted to reach over to the boy and give him a big hug and smother him with kisses. He wanted to strip the boy and cover his naked body with kisses, his smooth chest, his flat little tummy, his thighs, his little boy cock. Nat sighed with the ache. It wasn't the first time he'd had such detailed thoughts. They'd just become more frequent these past two months. Today was the strongest.

It was a great supper. His sister and brother-in-law always raved about his chicken and shrimp gumbo, and the sourdough buns warmed in the microwave and with slabs of butter went perfectly with it.

"Oh man, that was great. I don't think I can budge."

"Not even a little bit?" his wife asked, a gleam in her eyes.

"Oh. Well, yeah, I think I can manage a little bit," he said with a grin. "You think you can look after Kwame for half an hour?" he asked, looking at Nat.

"Hey, my gig's not until nine. Take an hour," he said with a grin.

"Oh, I don't think I can budge that long," he replied, glancing at his wife with a twinkle in his eyes. She gave him a playful punch in the arm.

"What do you say, Kwame? You think you and I can think of something to do for an hour?"

He was surprised at Kwame's response. It was a questioning look, as if he wanted to say something but didn't know if he should. It was only a few seconds, but it seemed much longer. "Sure."

"You two go ahead," Nat said. "Kwame and I will load the dishwasher." Working shifts, it was only every three weeks or so that his sister and his brother-in-law managed to have the same evening off together. He couldn't blame them for wanting an hour by themselves. It only took a few minutes to clear the table. He took Kwame outside. "So, what would you like to do? You want to play catch?" Kwame gave him that look again. "Okay, what is it?" Kwame looked at him blankly. "What's on your mind?"

Kwame paused again. "Mom and Dad are making a baby, aren't they?"

Nat snorted. Now that he hadn't thought would be on his six-year-old nephew's mind. "Well, let's say they're making love. It might not result in a baby."

"Would you like a baby?"

"Me? Well, the first thing I'd have to do is find me a wife," he said with a smile. "And I'm not exactly husband material," he joked. Truth was women had never been much interested in him, which was all right as he'd never been much interested in women.

"But you like kids."

"Sure."

"And you like me."

"Of course I like you," he said, wrapping an arm about him. "I love you."

"And I love you," Kwame said, giving his uncle a hug in return. "I can have your baby."

Nat snorted again. "Well, kiddo, I think we might have a problem there. I've known you since you were in diapers. In fact I changed quite a few of those diapers," he teased. "And unless something's changed since then, from what I saw I don't think you have the right equipment." Kwame looked at him blankly, not understanding. "What I mean is, only a woman can have a man's baby."

"I can," Kwame responded, his young voice firm in conviction.

"And just what makes you say that?"

"Billy Bob said I could."

"Oh, did he now?" Nat said with a smile. What were a four-year-old and a six-year-old doing talking about making babies? That had to have been one conversation!

"Unhuh. He fixed it so I could."

"He-and just how did he do that?"

"He shot a seed up my bum."

Nat's jaw dropped open. Now it was he who was sitting there wondering what to say. "He did what?" he finally asked.

"He stuck his pee-er up my bum and shot a seed up it, and he said if you stick your pee-er up my bum and shoot your seed it will make a baby."

A dozen questions shot into Nat's head. "When did he stick his pee-er up your bum?"

"Lots of times."

"Lots?"

Kwame nodded his head. "He does it to lots of boys. Not all though. Just those who he likes, and who want him to."

"You wanted him to?"

Kwame nodded his head again. "Lots of boys do. It feels good. But he don't shoot a seed up everyone's bum. He says that's very special."

"And when does he stick his pee-er up your bums?"

"When we have nap time."

"And where are the adults?"

"Having a snack." Nat looked at his nephew in surprise. The little blondie was going around buggering other kids right under the noses of the daycare staff and they didn't have a clue. The kid had buggered his own nephew! Wait until he had a talk with them. He'd sue their goddamn asses off. And wait until he talked to this Billy Bob's father! What sort of pervert kid was he raising? The answer came to him immediately. The kid had to have gotten these ideas from him. Shooting a seed up a bum. Shooting two seeds to make a baby. The bastard had to be abusing the kid! His own goddamn kid!

"Don't you want to stick your pee-er up my bum?" Nat looked at his nephew blankly. How could he answer that? "Billy Bob said you did. He said you wanted to do it real bad." Of course he wanted to. Billy Bob was right on that account. He'd wanted to for years, and lately really bad. But how do you tell a six-year-old boy wanting to do something like that and doing it are two very different things?

"Well," he chuckled nervously, "and how would Billy Bob know that?" It was as good an evasion as any.

"He thinks it."

"He thinks it?"

"Yeah. He says he can hear what people think sometimes. And he can think back at them, without talking. He said he heard you thinking it. Like, you know, sometimes when you come to get me and I'm playing and don't see you, and when I do you're looking at me sortta funny? Billy Bob says that's when you're thinking about sticking your pee-er up my bum." What the fuck? Billy Bob was right again. That was exactly what had been happening. Nat thought back to the looks Billy Bob had given him. A four-year-old mind reader and telepath? Impossible. "And he asked if I wanted you to and I said sure but I didn't think my bumhole was big enough cause yours had to be way bigger than his but he said you'd know how."

Nat shook his head. He couldn't even begin to imagine a four-year-old and a six-year-old sitting down over milk and cookies and talking about-. "What did you say?"

"I said he said you'd know how."

"Before that."

"I said I didn't think-."

"Before that. When he asked you if you wanted me to."

"I said yes."

"You do."

"Sure. Having Billy Bob do it feels real good, and it feels good when he lets me do it to him and he says he likes it. I'd like to make you feel good and having your pee-er up a guy's bum is the goodest feeling I know." Nat looked down at his nephew. He was unable to believe his six-year-old nephew and a four-year-old toddler would be doing such a thing, never mind talking about it. He was unable to believe he was having this conversation with his six-year-old nephew. Kwame looked up at him, his eyes wide and innocent. "We don't gotta if you don't wanna." Nat knew the boy didn't mean that. When he'd spoken earlier about wanting to do it, he'd been eager and excited. Now he sounded dejected.

"It's not that I don't want to. I do." The last thing he wanted the boy to feel was that he was rejecting him. Besides, how could he lie to the boy. But how did he explain that though he wanted to, there were others who'd object, especially his mother and father. How could he explain that what he wanted to do, what he was doing, others considered sinful and illegal?

"Great! I knew Billy Bob couldn't be wrong!"

Nat looked down at his nephew and Kwame looked back up at him, wide-eyed and innocent and happy once again. To say no would disappoint the boy, never mind himself. Nat looked at his watch. They had forty-five minutes before he had to go to work. They got up and headed down the hall. He paused at the bedroom door of his sister and brother-in-law. From the muffled noise inside, they were going to be occupied for a while yet. He lead Kwame to his room and locked the door behind them.

"You know, we can't really make a baby."

"Billy Bob said we could," Kwame replied confidently.

Who was he to argue with Billy Bob? "I don't think it would be a good idea to tell anyone about this. Nobody. Not even your mom and dad. Okay?"

"Okay."

Kwame really didn't care. He was going to make his uncle Nat feel good, and Nat was going to make him feel good, and they were going to make a baby. That was all that mattered. As his uncle began to unbutton his shirt, he did too. His uncle, like his dad, had a thick mat of curly, dark black hair across his chest and in a narrow strip down his middle to his pants. Undoing his belt and pulling down his fly along with this uncle, he grew more and more exited. Next to his mom and dad he loved his uncle Nat the most and he was eager to share the same pleasure with him as Billy Bob had introduced to him. As his uncle pushed down his boxers, Kwame admired his uncle's long, thick pee-er, not in the slightest bit worried about taking it up his bum. It was going to feel great, and Billy Bob had shown him how.

As Nat pushed down his boxers and stepped out of them, he was aware of Kwame watching him and he felt a moment of guilt and hesitation in the pit of his stomach. What the fuck was he doing? He'd told himself they'd just strip and have a little show and tell, maybe a little touching, and the boy would be satisfied. Who was he kidding? That wasn't what the boy wanted, and nor did he. He was stripping down in front of his six-year-old nephew and was about to screw his ass. His own sister's son! And the boy was standing there butt naked and waiting for him to do it. The feeling was only for a moment. The kid was gorgeous, his dark body so beautiful and soft-looking and still rounded with baby fat, his little pee-er no longer and thicker than his small finger, his belly so flat and his pubes so smooth, and his gorgeous bubble butt so compact and round. It really hadn't been that long since he'd powdered and diapered that little backside, and now he was about to fuck it. He had lusted over the boy for years, and now that lust was about to be fulfilled, his darkest and deepest dream. Taking out a tube of KY from the night stand, he sat on the bed and motioned for Kwame to come over to him. He would be gentle with the boy, and slow. He'd make sure every step of the way the boy wanted to do this, and the moment he said no or hesitated he'd stop.

"You're still all right with this? If you've changed your mind, that's okay."

"I haven't changed my mind," Kwame replied, staring at his uncle's long, thick pee-er, anxious to feel it inside him like he'd felt Billy Bob.

"I'm going to put some of this in your bum to make it slippery so it won't hurt when I put my pee-er in you, okay?" Kwame nodded. Billy Bob had said his uncle would know what to do. "Any time you want to stop, you just say and I'll stop. And if it hurts, you tell me, understand?" he asked as he squeezed a dollop of KY gel on his index and forefingers. Kwame nodded again.

Having the boy turn around and bend over and spread his legs, Nat spread apart his butt cheeks with his ungreased hand. His pucker was as black as the rest of his body. He spread the KY over it with his index finger and Kwame immediately opened up the moment he touched him. There had to be some truth in his story about Billy Bob doing him. He placed the tip of his forefinger against the greased hole and slowly pushed it forward. Again Kwame opened up to the touch and his greased finger easily entered his rectum. Nat twisted it around and slowly pushed his finger in further. Kwame continued to stand there bent over and said nothing. Nat pulled his finger part way out and then eased it back up the boy's rectum a little further. Billy Bob may have screwed his nephew, but his forefinger was longer and thicker than the four-year-old's tiny pee-er.

Removing his finger, he quickly plucked out a couple Kleenex tissues from the box on his night stand and wiped the smear of ass slime and shit from his finger. Greasing his forefinger up again, he inserted it back up Kwame's rectum and twisted it and the boy squirmed, saying it was because it was feeling good, not because it hurt. Removing his finger again, he wiped it off once more even though it looked clean and greased his index and forefingers up once more. His cock had begun to swell and now as he smeared the gel over the knob and down the shaft, it began to swell faster. His nephew standing there watching him, his big, innocent eyes glued to his swelling cock, added to his arousal. Well, the boy had best see just how big it was. Maybe that would discourage him. Part of him hoped that would be so. A bigger part hoped it would not.

"It's a lot bigger than Billy Bob's," Nat observed.

"Oh yeah!"

"You're still sure about this?"

The boy nodded and looked up at his uncle trustingly. Having the boy lay on the bed on his back with his ass raised on his pillows, Nat knelt between the boy's outspread legs and placed the tip of his cock against the boy's greased pucker. As he began to press forward, the boy pushed out with his stomach, opening his sphincter. The boy had to have been telling the truth about having done this before. Well, he might not be the first up his nephew's ass, but he was going to stretch the boy wider and enter him a lot deeper than any four-year-old. Actually, the image of the curly, blond-haired four-year-old laying there on the sleeping mats and discretely giving it to his nephew under the blankets sent a thrill of arousal though his groin. There was no doubt that the little buggers have been fucking from Kwame's comments and actions. He hadn't had a clue his dick was for anything other than pissing at that age.

He continued to press forward, his rock-hard dickhead stretching open the youngster's sphincter wider and wider, wider than it had ever been stretched before. He checked constantly if the boy wanted to continue and if he was hurting the boy. And then his knob popped inside Kwame's rectum. He paused, making sure the boy was all right, and then he slowly eased his cock up the boy's rectum. The KY and the boy's eagerness and previous experience did the job. He shoved all eight inches [20 cm] of his thick, black meat up the boy's tight little ass. His knob buried deep up the boy's hot, moist asshole and his coarse, curly hairs brushing the boy's hairless, marble-sized balls, he paused and savoured the delight of having his thick, aching cock totally encased by hot, throbbing boy flesh. The look of awe and apprehension, and of delight and achievement, in the boy's wide-open eyes told him how the boy was feeling without having to check, and the slight curling of the boy's lips and the brightening of his eyes as he slowly withdrew and then sank his stiff cock back up his rectum removed any last doubts in his mind about what they were doing.

Kwame worked his asshole in time with his uncle's thrusts and withdrawals just as Billy Bob had taught him. It had been great with Billy Bob, but it was far greater with his uncle. Billy Bob's pee-er had made his asshole burn and itch with a strange but pleasant feeling and it had made his insides up his bum throb. His uncle's much larger pee-er made his opening burn and itch all the stronger, and having his long, thick bone shoved up his hole until his uncle's hairs were tickling his balls made his insides up his bum throb all the harder. It was awesome. What was even better than with Billy Bob was that this was his uncle. He was family, and the love between an uncle and nephew was very different from the love between friends, even good friends.

Nat had sworn he would be gentle and slow, but having his cock buried up his nephew's tight asshole after all these years felt so great and seeing the pleasure in the boy's eyes was so gratifying, he had to speed up, and the faster he went the hotter and more delightful it was, and the hotter it was the faster he went. It was as if the lust he'd felt for the boy since he was a baby had built up over all these years and was now exploding like an overheated water tank. He was overheated. He had never felt such lust in all his forty-three years. He and his little nephew were fucking like there was no tomorrow, there in his bed, while his mom and dad were screwing right next door. That was so erotic. He thrust his black stick of dynamite in and out of the boy's hole with all the force he could. He was pounding so fast the bed was rocking and he was beginning to gasp for breath with the exertion and the arousal. He knew they should be quiet, but he could not help but snort and grunt like the rutting boar that he was, and Kwame was squirming and grunting like a stuck little piglet. The boy's pecker had gotten hard, and now the boy reached down and began to stroke it rapidly, tugging on his itching, throbbing little cocklet so violently Nat was sure he was going to hurt himself.

With the violent screwing his ass was getting and the pleasure pulsating through his abused little cocklet, the boy was soon spasming with his orgasm and whimpering with the powerful pleasure racking his body and his brain. The beauty of the boy's orgasm brought Nat over the edge, and he threw back his head and groaned in ecstasy as he rammed his cock up the boy's rectum and his cum raced up the core of his swollen, aching cock and spurted out of the burning tip with such force he expected to see it come gushing out the boy's mouth. Gasping and groaning so loud that his sister and brother-in-law in the next room would have heard him had they not also begun to spasm and twitch with their own orgasms, Nat rammed his spurting, aching cock in and out of his six-year-old nephew's clutching asshole like a mad man. The forty-eight-pound [22 kg] boy arched his body, the knob of his little stiff cocklet burning like it was on fire and jolts of orgasm ripping though his hairless groin and his mind, his asshole being flooded with hot, thick jism and his rectum throbbing in time with his uncle's thick, throbbing cock. The two of them finally collapsed and lay there side by side on his uncle's bed, flushed with exhaustion and the exquisite pleasure throbbing through their bodies, Nat's hairy, muscular chest and Kwame's smooth, rounded breasts rising and falling as they sucked in the sex-laden air, Nat's thick black cock smeared with his cum and his nephew's ass slime and Kwame's asshole filled with his uncle's hot, thick, baby-making juice while in the bedroom beside them Kwame's mother and father groaned and clutched, naked and dripping with their own orgasms.

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