Tales of Hampton Wick (Part 7) (T/b M/b B/b Spank Bond)


"Got you at last." Tommy cried, lashing the started boy across the buttocks
with his hand.

 Barely able to feel the blow through the thickness of his denim dungarees
Scotty Armstrong didn't give a vocal answer, he simply turned and faced his
captor.

 Smack!

 The blow to his cheek made Scotty's eyes water.

 "Move!" Tommy ordered, repeating the order as necessary until he had the
slightly, younger boy safely inside the Groundsman's hut. Only then did
Scotty realise what was happening. Only there's nothing to be seen but his
big brother's best friend whose intent is made plainly obvious by the
stretched condition of his trousers.

 "Drop 'em!"

 It was a familiar pattern just as it was to all boys of the generation.
Faced with such a demand from an elder boy there was nothing for him to do
but unfasten the braces of his overalls and step out of the garment. Naked,
he stood, his prick already rising. Tommy ignored it.

 "Lie on the mat."

 The boy wasn't even down when Tommy snatched the legs from under him and
flattened him on the floor. Flicked onto his back, limbs stretched, one by
one, until both wrists and ankles were secured to pegs hammered into the
compacted mud floor.

 His prisoner helplessly laid out across the floor Tommy spent a few moments
looking over the pretty sight that reminded him so much of his best friend,
only smaller, and more manageable. The heavy main of dirty, blond hair
trailed about the deeply sun-tanned flesh, providing a contrast so harsh it
became delightful in itself. The skin, an even colouring everywhere but
under the raised arms and around the stretched crutch. There, only a light
brushing of pubic hair broke the soft lines and crystal white of the
unblemished flesh. The puppy fat that had recently covered Scotty had
disappeared in the last few months but as he'd only recently left the
village school and entered full-time employment the strength and definition
of Chris had yet to break through to the surface. Yet already the shade and
structure of sizeable boy could be detected, most noticeably in a prick
that, despite the three year age gap, was only half-an-inch smaller than the
weapon secreted inside Chris's trousers.

 Although thinner, Scotty's prick roared up in an erection so intense it
didn't stand horizontal rather, lay flat upon the harden abdomen as if
begging to be wanked. The boy duly moaned as Tommy snatched his prick and
gave it the flick-test. Pulling it all the way down until the shaft pressed
between the twin bollocks and then releasing it so it snapped up, with a
smack, back where it had come from.

 "This," Tommy said seriously as he picked up the prick, "Can get you into
serious trouble and I should know. You have to learn to control it. Do you
want me to show you how they taught us to do that at the orphanage?"

 Scotty, who'd heard Chris tell some wild tales of the all-boys home in
which Tommy had grown up, nodded eagerly.

 Smiling, the youth reached for the thin wooden ruler he'd lifted from Mr.
Nelson's workshop and showed it to the helpless boy. "This is what the
Superintendent used if he found a boy stiff during his night rounds." The
prick throbbed in anticipation. "Slowly, he'd creep up to the sleeping boy,
and lift up the course blanket each of us had. Not allowed to sleep in our
clothes, we'd be naked underneath. Carefully, so as not to wake us, the
Superintendent, would move the stiff boy into a workable position and then
deliver his punishment."

 Whistle! Slap!

 The ruler landed on the slanted eye at the end Scotty's prick. The pain
jerked him against the ropes holding him and caused the cry to stick in his
mouth even before it had began to form. His prick dropped instantly.

 Tommy laughed. "Works every time. Fancy another go?" he offered.

 His eyes watering, Scotty declined in a voice croaked with emotion.

 "Oh well. maybe you'll change you mind after work." Tommy stood up. "I'll
see you later."



Chapter Thirty-Nine:

"He ain't going to be here is he?"

 "He might." Gerald answered his distraught friend. "You saw the look on
Cotton's face. He had been up to something. I'd bet the Estate on it."

 "Yeah, but you know what happened last time we was caught here. Your arse
ain't going to take much more beating."

 "You let me be the judge of..."

 "Heeeeellllpp!"

 The two boys stopped in their tracks. Nervously Paul grasped at his
friend's arm. "What the fuck was that?"

 "No idea." Gerald shrugged. "There's only one way to find out!"

 Paul opened his mouth to protest but the future Lord was already on his way
towards the hut they'd been skirting around. Not overly eager to relive his
many punishment sessions within the wooden walls, Paul hung back until
Gerald's cry of, "What do we have here?" brought him running.

 "Help!" the bound boy repeated less hysterically as the boys entered his
prison. "Tommy done this to me and I can't get out."

 "So it would seem." smiled Gerald. "Paul, see if you can lend a hand."

 The large framed boy soon released the ankles but was stopped when he went
to move onto the wrists. "There is no need for that." Gerald told him.

 The dirty blond head snapped up, with the question, "Why the hell not?"

 Ignoring the interruption, Gerald directed his next comment to Paul, "I
think it would be preferable if he remained silent during our activities."

 Neither Paul nor Scotty understood the latter part of his sentence but the
initial thrust was soon put into action. Once more Paul's filthy hankie was
pressed into another boy's mouth, as an effective gag.

 "There, that is better, is it not?" The question rhetorical, no one
answered in the pause given. Gerald gave Paul a prod before continuing. "I
think it would be best if we employed the method we initiated in Cotton's
bedroom. Would you care to have the boy prepared for such an operation?"

 Paul shook his head at his friend's strange way of speaking, and then asked
for his help. Gerald seated upon the miscreant's legs so the rope could be
refastened to the left ankle. Paul then selected a suitable position on the
wall from where he removed the tool which hung there and wrapped the cord
around the protruding nail, once. Exerting most of his strength on the end
of the rope, lifted Scotty's leg from the floor and brought it backwards.

 With no option but to roll into an inverted ball, Scotty moaned and groaned
through his gag as his body contorted until his knees are pressed to either
side of his face. His arse raised completely from the floor. Tossing his
head back he can see his toes pressed into the side wall and the red rings
the cord made in his tender flesh as it bit down. By craning his neck up the
view changes to that of his own prick, complete with two inch wide
rule-stripe, and inverted bollocks, but it is the view from between his
folded legs which provided him with most concern. There, a saliva slickened,
aristocratic finger brushed his erected prick and down the length of the
shaft, across the base of his bollocks and into the immodestly widened crack
of his arse. Trailing across the sensitive skin between balls and arsehole,
it sunk lower and lower until it reached the anal lips themselves. There, it
circled the opening, prodding and pushing until they gave slightly. The
carefully manicured finger entered.

 "Not at all tight." observed Gerald. "Should be a good fit."

 The bound boy's chest sighed for him as the finger came from his nether
regions. He watched, starring, as Gerald slipped out of his neatly pressed
clothing and displayed his five inch prick. Pinching the skin between thumb
and finger, the head becomes exposed. Red, wet, and ready to go.

 Wanking in a steady motion Gerald slickened his knob-end with the
lubrication it provided and knelt behind the spread boy's arse. Continuing
to please himself he feasted for a couple of moments of the delightful hole
before lifting his face from between the flexing buttocks and replacing it
with his bulbous prick.

 Screwing his eyes shut, Scotty concentrated all his attention on keeping
the invader out. His sphincter contracted, locked tight against the
intrusion. His bollocks seized in a death grip that simultaneously caressed
and hurt. The pressure against his hole increased as Gerald lent over and
pressed his entire weight onto the opening between his legs. Little jabs
were made, small twists, every trick in the arse-fucker's guide book
employed to get into him. Sooner or later, one of them had to work. At the
moment his prick became enveloped in a pumping fist, Scotty surrender to the
inevitable and was impaled.

 "Master Gerald!" Paul stage-whispered, "Master Gerald!"

 The fucking, which had only just started, didn't stop although Gerald did
call a temporary halt to his attempts to kiss the avoiding, gagged, mouth to
ask what the trouble was. Paul never got the chance to answer. Someone else
did though.

 "Get off my brother Master Gerald, and turn around."



Chapter Forty:

After leaving the spanked boy to his fate Kai Bleisch walked right into the
trap set for him by his cousin. One moment he'd been walking along the
forest path and the next he was face down in the mud being roughly separated
from his clothes. He struggled but it was as if Danny was possessed. He'd
have shouted for the help he knew couldn't be far away but was never allowed
to raise his face for long enough to do it and then, when he could it was
only so a handkerchief could be tied around him, preventing the very thing
he'd intended to do.

 When he'd rendered the German boy completely helpless Danny set about
enjoying himself. Knelt beside the well-rounded rear he used the back of the
hairbrush he'd felt on numerous occasions to spank the buttocks,
concentrating first on the central area before moving both north and south
of it. Smack! Smack! Smack! he went. Moving out in a gradual motion until he
started, around-the-clock.

 Every so often Danny stopped spanking to grabbed a handful of the
brightening flesh and pinched it. At one point he even went so far as to
bend down and impress the pattern of his teeth in to the rear. Excited by
that he tossed aside the hairbrush and moved on to the next object in his
arsenal.

 Brought back from Europe as the "spoils of war1/2 Danny had taken it that
morning from his father's woodshed thinking it a more fitting object to use
on his troublesome cousin. It measured a couple of feet in length from the
crudely carved handle down to the end of the tightly bound horse's tail.

 Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!

 Four times Danny lashed the teenager's arse with the tail only to be
disappointed with the outcome. Whilst it made a satisfying noise the results
upon the curved flesh were less than he'd anticipated. Thinking it to be the
angle from which he approached Danny moved around to sit upon his cousin's
legs. These he spread, feeling his prick expand as the cleft opened to
reveal the tantalising hole between. A new idea came to him and he ran the
course horse's tail up and down one of the most sensitive spots a boy had,
until he had Kai quivering on the ground. gradually he expanded the area to
take in most of the Dõsseldorf born youth alternating between slaps and
tickles so Kai would never know what he was going to have to suffer next.

 The flesh sufficiently warmed, Danny bent his head and licked the fading
waffle pattern around his cousin's waist from the overly taught elastic of
the removed shorts. From there he worked down. White forearms pressed into
the backs of darker thighs, thumbs pushed tight into the fleshy buttocks,
hauling them apart to allow his head to pass between. Tongue extended,
Danny's cheeks brushed across the flesh from which he could feel the heat
rising. Soon he lapped like a dog on it's last meal, craving the sweatiness
of another teenager's bum-crack. Without intending to he'd linger over the
gasping hole until the tip of his tongue entered. Leaving it there he
rotated his closing his mind to the substance that exited through the
opening, Danny rim with considerable skill for an ammeter. His fingers left
prints and marks all over the spanked flesh as his lust grew to new
proportions. Kai pushed back against him, crushing his nose.

 Smack-Smack! Smack-Smack!

 "Stay down!" Danny commanded, spanking the rounded rear from side to side.
It wobbled delightfully so he did it some more.

 Smack-Smack! Smack-Smack!

 It was while Danny did this that he noticed the resemblance of the Horse's
Tail handle to something a lot more familiar. Stopping his spanking he
snatched the whip from where he'd tossed it and gave the end an experimental
lick. It even tasted the same. Smiling broadly, he resumed his previous
position on Kai's thighs.

 The German boy had relaxed under the lashing hand despite the pain this
brought. Still, he sighed into his gag once the tongue returned to his
anal-ring. Only one hand clutched his rear, and for that he was grateful,
however he could not wonder what the other one was up to. He soon found out.

 Aiming the handle carefully, Danny positioned at the exact spot he had in
mind and pressed. The flesh gave slightly, but a hump from his prisoner of
war soon dislodged it again.

 Smack-Smack! Smack-Smack!

 Assuming Kai would be suitably chastised by the harsh spanking, Danny
replaced the handle from where it had been dislodged. This time he eased its
entry with his tongue, trailing it from the cold wood onto the burning flesh
surrounding the puckered little hole he intended to fuck before the
encounter was over.

 Again Kai humped his hips but was unable to prevent his rear being
penetrated the second time. The weight of Danny's face pressed into his rear
wouldn't allow him the height he needed but, then, the hot, slippery, tongue
did have some compensations for the rough poking of his hole.

 Once he was certain the handle was inside the boy Danny drew back his head
to have a look-see. A handful of tasty bum in his left hand he watched as
the pulsating sphincteral ring twitched around the hardwood.

 Kai's hips jerked as the handle probed deeper into his rectum. From
experience he knew this position would offer less resistance to the
impalement which it duly did. Another three inches of the horse's hair whip
sunk into his well-fucked arsehole. He groaned.

 At once, Danny dragged it out and sunk his face back between the golden
globes. Kai's hips humped up to meet his approach, offering the prime angle
for the rim job Danny so readily performed. The flicking tongue explored
every single section of the anus it could reach and there wasn't much it
missed in the next five or ten minutes, from the top of the cleft all the
way down to where the bollocks swung in their furry sac. Meanwhile, Danny's
hands acted on their own, capturing each of the bum cheeks in great big
handfuls. Squeezing and kneading them as he moistened the hole humping
against him until the need to be naked overcame him. Still rimming the anus
for all he was worth, Danny Briddle stripped himself naked.

 The first Kai knew of the change in activity was when he was rolled onto
his back. Before he even had time to make himself comfortable his legs were
pulled up and pressed back into his chest. Danny scooted closer, guiding his
prick as he went. Sitting up on his knees he made two unsuccessful attempts
and then found the correct hole. In luscious slow-motion all six inches of
his prick glides deep inside his cousin's arse-hole.

 Falling forwards with the simplicity of the penetration, Danny prevented a
chest to chest hung by grabbing hold of Kai's thighs, pushing them further
into the ground. This, naturally, raised the youth's buttocks up to meat the
thrusts which are soon being pounded into it.

 Pushing himself back into the vertical Danny marvels at the sight of his
prick thrusting back and forth through the reddened buttocks. Smooth and
slick in the German's juices it looked even bigger than it had before,
almost as large as the one quivering above it.

 Thick, cut and pulsing Kai's prick yearned for someone, or something, to
touch it. Pressed tight to his belly from the angle his body had been forced
into, it swung and jumped about, the great knob-end glistening in the
pre-cum that passed through the single eye and trailed down either side of
the muscular abdomen.

 Intimidated by the sight Danny got on with the job.

 Hands slapped onto the sides of Kai's buttocks as Danny thrust, endlessly,
in and out, his entire body rocked with the power placed in each and every
one of his countless fucks. Becoming adventurous he'd whip the length of his
shaft from the gaping arsehole and, before its course could be altered,
plunge it right the way back in again, until his bollocks slapped against
the German's body.

 He leaned forwards, slotted his elbows behind Kai's knees and rolled the
other teenager into an even tighter ball, was only fit to be fucked. His
eyes screwed shut so he wouldn't have to look at the gagged face smiling up
at him, Danny gritted his teeth and fucked like the last rabbit on the
meadow. When Kai's spunked on their joint belly's he ignored it. The sticky
dampness only urged him on. Made him randier. Made him want to fuck the very
life out of his foreign relative. The ejaculation, clenched the sphincter
onto his shaft preventing the knob from passing through the opening. The
added pressure raised Danny's loins to their bursting point but he fought it
back down again. Thinking of as many non-sexually things as he could he
continued to fuck. His body a never ending jerking motion, that forced his
knob-end to touch all those places his tongue hadn't been able to reach.

 Recovered from his orgasm in record time Kai used every trick in his book
to bring the relentless pounding of his arsehole to an end. It wasn't that
he wanted the fuck to end but, rather, he thought he'd be doing Danny a
favour by doing so. Having been fucked by several Englishmen during his trek
across the continent he'd discovered many of them had trouble in the
finishing department so, he'd developed the grab-and-pull technique with his
highly trained anal muscles. This he now used on his cousin.

 Danny no longer felt able to open his eyes. He also struggled with his
breathing. Gradually his body grew still, allowing Kai to provide all the
motion that was necessary to bring forth the conclusion that wouldn't be
long in coming. At the final moment his arms, gave way, finally pressing him
completely on top of the boy he'd hated for the past few months. His mouth,
open so he could breath, landed on and began kissing of its own intent. Kai
returning the unexpected oral assault despite the gag, and the fact Danny
could no longer control the savage jolting of his hips as his spunk rocket
out of his prick, into the German's suction-chamber of an arsehole.



Chapter Forty-One:

Gerald felt as if he'd been asleep and shook his head to clear it only to
discover he couldn't open his mouth. It was gagged. He tired to move and
free it, but couldn't.

 Panic-stricken he looked around. Set between four poles driven into the
ground, totally naked, he was secured, in a standing position, lent
forwards. Ropes, held him in place, set into groves on the poles so he could
neither raise his feet nor lower his arms. Looking further afield he could
see Paul between the two farm hands a few feet away. He tried to call their
attention. Nothing happened.

 "Do you know what we're going to do to you?" Tommy asked the other captive
rhetorically, "We're going to show you how to behave. Strip!"

 Paul's hands shock as much with excitement that it took him some time to
remove his shorts and shirt, ever conscious of Chris standing behind him
ready to prod him for the slightest mistake. Acting like the Regimental
Sergeant-Major Gerald had heard so much about from his father.

 "Stand up straight!" Smack! "Shoulders back!" Smack! "Chin up!" Smack!
"Don't look at me!" Smack! "Legs wide!" Smack! "Wider!" Smack! each order
accompanied by a slap somewhere on Paul's body by the skinny riding-crop,
the stable-lad held.

 "You ever been trained before?" Tommy asked.

 "No!"

 Whack!

 Tommy's hand lashed the boy's face. "Don't you dare speak unless you are
spoken to and call me 'Sir'. Understand?"

 "Yes Sir!"

 Smack!

 "What are those marks on your arse slave?"

 "Playing Sir!"

 "You need discipline then?"

 "Yes Sir. Please Sir."

 "What's this thing?" Tommy grabbed the five-and-a-quarter prick that sprung
up from the lad's patchy pubic hair. "Did I tell you you could have one of
those?"

 "No sir. Sorry Sir."

 Dropping the prick Tommy spoke to his accomplice. "I think we'll need to
show him who's in charge. Like we said."

 "Fucking great!" the taller youth ejaculated.

 Gerald, still trapped, had a grandstand view as Paul hammered two small
steaks into the ground to which Paul's ankles could be tied. Then his wrists
were fastened to a longer rope that could be tossed over a branch high above
his head. When tightened, this rope raised him onto the tips of his toes, so
he was simultaneously stretched and spread-eagled.

 Tommy then began to fasten him into a serious of leather straps liberated
from the tact-room just for this occasion. Handing them to the expert, he
watched as the belt was buckled around Paul's waist. A pouch barely big
enough for the use into which it was pressed, pulled back between the boy's
legs and buckled, very tightly, to the belt at his waist. Weighted clamps
pinched at Paul's slanted nipples, and sung as his body moved in a vain
attempt to dislodge them.

 "That'll hold him." Chris said when he'd finished.

 "Good!" Tommy turned to their most recent captive, "What do you say, boy?"

 It was barely louder than a horse whisper but the words, "Thank you Sir!"
could still be made out.

 Gerald watched as the two youths in his father's employ approached him,
anxiously waiting his turn. As they walked, they stripped. He'd seen both
naked before, of course, so expected no surprises there. Yet he got one,

 The teenagers' bodies glistened in sweat and grease but even after their
clothes were removed, one of them wasn't entirely naked. Wrapped around
Tommy's waist was a wide piece of cloth that covered his genitals tightly,
not that it mattered for it came with its own prick. A truly massive
protrusion that had the dimensions of the largest prick Chris had ever seen
on his prized stallions.

 Gerald still stared at the enormity of the thing when Chris knelt down in
front of him and began to stroke the aristocratic prick up to its full
length - Not that it needed much work. Meanwhile Tommy moved around the back
of the helpless boy and pressed the bulbous tip of his false prick into the
crevice between Gerald's buttocks.

 Gerald panicked and try to prevent his being entered by twisting around
but, of course, it was a fruitless exercise. Pain shot through him as Chris
gave his bollocks a sudden crushing.

 Standing back for a second attempt, Tommy adjusted the band over his hips,
allowing his own prick to find a move comfortable position within the
confiding cloth. Then he stepped forwards once more and began to grind the
rubber prick past the sphincter muscles trying to keep him out.

 Tears welled in Gerald's eyes. he cried and shouted into the gag as the
over-sized intrusion moved around the opening to his arse. In the long run,
he knew, there would be little he could to prevent he fucked by the object.
Even while he tried to prevent it the bulbous head, forced his lips open and
entered, withdrew, and thrust deeper.

 The pressure eased - the lubrication, fastidiously applied to the
phoney-prick did its job - the once tight opening widened. As the discomfort
in his nether regions receded, sensations of intense pleasure took their
place.

 All that could be heard was the low sucking and slurping from Gerald's
groin and the heavy breathing from behind him. Chris's lips and tongue
continued their skilfully operation on Gerald's enlarged passion fruits
while his best friend's hips pumped and fucked. Tommy's hands clasped the
boy's chubby love-handles, pulling Gerald's back onto his more grown-up
chest in an tight bear-hug.

 The youngster's body throbbed in delight at being so roughly and helplessly
used. Tommy's thrust deep inside him were vigorously stimulating, rapidly
firing him towards an orgasm that tossed his head from side to side. The
fucked boy's body shuddered and had it not been for his gag he would have
screamed the leaves from the trees. As it was he had to make do with biting
upon the handkerchief stuffed into his mouth for several seconds as he
pumped his immature spunk into Chris's mouth.

 No sooner had the taller boy swallowed Gerald's load than they disengaged
from his body and returned to where the more heavily endowed boy continued
to be strung up. As they walked, Tommy released himself from the slightly
blooded phoney-prick and allowed the cum mattered into his bollocks to dry
to a crisp crust.

 The pain from the jingled nipple-clip Paul found excruciatingly pleasurable
and was unable to muffle a little cry to this effect. Chris pounced.

 Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack!

 Five times the suspended boy was struck across the rear and legs before he
managed to get his vocal cords under control.

 "Be quiet boy!" he was warned.

 "S-ssss-sorry Sir!"

 "That's better. Let's try again. Shall we?" Chris squeezed the other clip.
Paul's face screwed up, but he said nothing. "That's better." The hand
dropped to the constricting leather pouch. "Let's see if you've learned your
lesson, down below."

 Whilst Chris fumbled with the buckle pressed into the boy's soft flesh
Tommy came to rest on his knees in front of the captive waiting to see if
the experiment had been a success. Occasionally, he caressed the supple
texture of the pouch until it dropped to the floor and exposed what it had
covered.

 The blood rushed into Paul's previously crushed nuts replacing the pain
with more pleasure than the boy could silently contain. His prick springing
up harder than steel.

 "I think," said Tommy examining the swollen organ from all angles, and
fingering the marks left from the pouch, "That we should whip him now."

 Chris, holding a thin, whispy cane, spoke next, to Paul, "You are to beg
for punishment, understand?"

 "Yes Sir!"

  "Well! We're waiting."

 "Please Sir," said the helpless boy as his tortured prick vanished into
Tommy's vacuuming mouth, "Please cane my arse. I beg to be whipped Sir."

 "Good boy!" laughed Chris, "You shall have six-of-the-best as you wanted
and you will thank me for each one. Understand?"

 "Yes Sir. Thank you Sir!"

 Swish-crack!

 "Thank you Sir!" Paul forced through clenched teeth as the sheering pain
invaded his arse.

 Swish-crack!

 "Thank... You... Sir!"

 Swish-crack!

 "Argh!" Paul shook all over as his prick shot spunk into the teenaged mouth
wrapped around it.

 Swish-crack! Swish-crack!

 "Thank me boy!"

 The boy's mouth had dried up in post-orgasm but he tried. "S-sss-sir.
Th-th-thhhhank Y--!"

 Swish-crack!

 "Thank me faster!"

 Swish-crack!

 "Chris!"

 Swish-crack! Swish-crack! Swish-crack!

 "CHRIS!" Tommy yelled freezing the other youth in mid swing, "That's
enough! Fuck him if you want, but don't hit him no more."

 "Argh!" Paul groaned as the long, thick shaft rammed up his hole, "Thank
you Sir!"



Chapter Forty-Two:

Billy Nelson put his hands around the man's unshaven chin and rattled the
great head, "Wake up dad!" he whispered to no avail. Gently he slapped the
cheeks. Nothing. He bent, and kissed, reigning his lips over his father's.

 Spotting the bear bottle was still half empty he tired a hair of the dog.
Easing down the jaw, he rested the neck of the bottle upon his father's chin
and raised the body. Slowly a trickle of golden liquid ebbed and flowed
forward to drip into the cavernous mouth. Mr. Nelson groaned.

 "Dad, dad," his youngest son chanted, "Paul's wants you to... you know?
What you said."

 The man's eyelids flickered but stayed firmly shut. "More drink!"" he
mumbled.

 Billy tipped up the bottle. It was empty. "There ain't no more.1/2

 "Need more." The tongue extended, licking around the neck of the bottle so
sexually even Billy couldn't help but notice and understand.

 Quickly he stood, ripped his shirt down his arms and pushed his shorts to
his knees. His pricklet thickening. Kneeling, he caressed himself with his
right hand. "You sure Dad?" he asked.

 "More drink!" was the answer.

 Shrugging, Billy leaned over his father's face and pressed the tip of his
foreskin to the licked lips. It slipped right in. Billy giggled and hunched
his hips a couple of times, in experimentation. It felt great. He watched
his father's head turn slightly to become directly in front of his young
loins and allow his short length to slide all the way inside.

 After a few minutes Billy's initial interest began to vanish. He didn't
want such a passive partner. His big, strong, father shouldn't be made love
to in such a fashion by a little boy. Mr. Nelson should be the one taking
control of the situation. Yanking his still lengthening pricklet from the
man's face, Billy tried, once more, to gain some sort of response from his
father, but no matter how much he rattled the great head, or kissed the
sucking lips he couldn't raise more than the faintest squeak. He returned to
fucking it.

 The first inch of Billy's pricklet having hardened, made the remainder
drooped at an unfaltering angle, as if it were a balloon that had yet to be
fully inflated. However, it as this which enabled him to give his father's
face such a royal fuck as he did. Whilst the knob-end and majority of the
shaft continued to point down the paternal throat, the erected sections
allowed him to butt against lips and cause the foreskin to be retracted so
the knob could press against the languishing tongue.

 Slowly Billy's pricklet became teased by this and erected itself to its
full four-and-a-half inch length which, by angling his father's head back
slightly, Billy found he could poke right down into the tighter section of
Mr. Nelson's throat. Muscles he didn't know he had rose up in his compact
body as he hunched back and forth over the inert figure. Strands of mousy
hair, flapped over his sweet, young, face until sweat forced them to cling
to his scalp. Then it happened, his father began to wake.

 It wasn't the prodding in his throat which woke Mr. Nelson, but the
sensation of the hot, hairless, bollocks slapping against his nose. Memories
of his brother flooded into his head, dispelling some of the alcohol that
had languished there. His right hand raised, automatically, to take another
beer and found the body crouched over him. The boy's torso jerked away in
fright when he touched it but he soon calmed that by stroking the hollow
beneath the tossed back shoulders. The huge fingers gradually widening the
area under inspection to include the nearest hip and buttocks, before
sliding beneath to stroke the hard, flat belly, and pinch the pin-prick
nipples of his youngest son.

 Initially Mr. Nelson was surprised to find out just whose pricklet it was
that he had in his mouth for he'd never suspected little Billy possessed
such a delightful prick as the one he chewed, let alone the knowledge of how
to use it. Then, as he thought back to his own childhood, twenty-odd years,
previously he realised such things must run in the family. More than once
he'd laid under his beloved elder-brother, as the teenager's prick expanded
the dimensions of his mouth and throat. He eased Billy up so he could fully
explore what he'd bequeathed him.

 The pricklet, erect now, pointed up tight to the belly as only a young
boy's could. It's owner groaned and sighed as the adult's tongue lapped
around the ridge inside the foreskin. A hand, gripping his arse, prevented
him from sinking back into the warm, vacuuming mouth until the inspection
had been completed and then directed the slowed rhythm once it had done.

 Doing full press-ups now, Billy's eyes screwed shut and he bit down on his
upper lip, surrendering himself to his father's loving caresses of his rear.
One hand on the small of his back, the other sliding up and down between the
upper parts of his thighs. Fingertips nestled against his swinging bollocks.
"Fuck me Dad?" he whispered.

 Suddenly he was thrown off. "I can't!" Mr. Nelson said.

 "Why not?"

 "You're too little."

 "I'm not." Billy rose to his full five-foot-two-inch height, still stroking
his pricklet. "You did it to Master Gerald."

 For a moment Mr. Nelson remembered that chubby, white, aristocratic arse
and the way it had felt to fuck it and how the future Lord had enjoyed it.
Hearing a squishing noise of his trousers being undone he remembered what
was being proposed. "He's older than you!"

 "Not by that much."

 "Enough... Oooohhh!" Mr. Nelson sighed. His prick was out now, being
caressed in warm, manipulative fingers. "To make a difference."

 "Bet I could take it." stated Billy, "I've been fucked before."

 Mr. Nelson smiled, "Paul?"

 "And Master Gerald, and Tommy, and Chris Armstrong, and..."

 "Alright, I believe you. But I'm bigger than all of them. It even hurts
your mum when I put it in her."

 The image stifled Billy's keenness somewhat, although not enough. He'd
remembered something that would help. "Will you do it," he said, "If I show
you my bum can take it?"

 "Why not?"

 Billy took that to be the answer he wanted and snatched the beer bottle up.
Releasing his pricklet for the first time he spat into his hand and rubbed
it around the neck of the bottle. Looking into his father's confused eyes,
he wanked the neck until recognition signalled between the generations.

 Returning to wanking himself, Billy crouched, with his knees open and bent
double and reached behind himself to place the beer bottle onto a patch of
firm, flat ground and directed it to his hole. His lip again seized between
his teeth, he wanked at a faster rate, and began to bounce the bottle
against his anus.

 Mr. Nelson's eyes almost popped right out of their sockets. From where he
lay, he had the perfect view of all Billy held dear. The right hand little
more than a blur on the pricklet, the bollocks beneath bounced and jingled,
the action keeping them clear of the main area. Slippy fingers struggled to
hold the bottle still at the bottom, whilst, at the top there was no such
trouble. The neck couldn't go anywhere for it was firmly implanted in the
rectum of his youngest son who seem intent on taking as much of it up him as
he could. Every couple of seconds a little more would disappear and would
then reappear only to vanish again along with that little bit more. In a
fraction of a second Billy reached the bottom of the neck, where the
diameter doubled.

 "Careful Billy!" Mr. Nelson warned, his arse having bleed when thrust down
on the balled handle of a shovel during his own initiation rites when he was
little older than his youngest. Then, he'd had little control over how fast
the timber had entered him, as he was tied and gagged and dropped onto it.
Billy, on the other hand, had all the control in the world. Gritting his
teeth so hard, they ground he raised himself to the very edge of the
expansion and dropped.

 "AAaarghh!" he groaned as the glass opened him wider. The pain more intense
than he'd imagined threaten to split him. He tried to rise but his father
held him down. The large hands wrapped around his thighs.

 "Go on Billy. You can do it." he was encouraged.

 "It hurts!" he spat but even as he said it the pain diminished to a dull
throb that didn't feel so bad. He began to move. Not up this time but down.
In little jerky motions he forced more of the glassware into him until there
was little doubt he would be able to handle the solid lump of flesh that
thrust itself out from his father's flies. This time there would be no
argument.

 Quickly father and son exchanged places. Billy lay face down on the floor
with their combined clothes bundled up beneath his belly, his youthful arse
angled up at what he hoped would be the perfect angle for fucking. He heard
his father spit into his hand and felt the rubbing and lubrication of his
crack and then up, into his hole. He felt so gaping and open after the
bottle he hardly noticed anything until he squirmed all over the floor as a
thick, working man's finger shoved itself deep inside him. He heard his
father spit, coughing up a real handful which he then massaged into, and
around, his knob-end. It pressed to Billy's hole, and pushed.

 "Arghhhh!" the little boy shrieked in pain.

 Hands dropped to his back, holding, caressing away the pain until he was
ready to continue.

 The second time, as always, wasn't so bad. Biting his lip hard enough to
draw blood, Billy felt his sphincter give way and, just as if he was having
the biggest shit of his young life, backwards, his father's enormous prick
slipped into his hole. He bucked against it.

 "Get used to it first Billy." Mr. Nelson said with a laugh, holding back
his son's rampant enthusiasm. "Then I'll stick the rest in."

 Billy sighed, he thought he had it all. The thought of more slapped his
pricklet against his belly.

 "Take a deep breath, and keep doing it!"

 He followed the instructions exactly. Billy's father knew everything, or so
the boy thought. Gulping down great lung-fulls of the unpolluted forest air
only to exhale it in gasps as more prick fed itself into him.

 No more words of instruction followed - it was all Mr. Nelson could do to
gasp, the supreme tightness of Billy's arsehole rendered him
next-to-speechless - for each participant knew exactly what to do in order
to enjoy themselves. Sure, it hurt Billy a bit, more than a bit, having
something as large as his father's prick stuffed up his arse, but felt good
too. Better than good. Better than anything.

 Mr. Nelson, for his part, went at it like a madman. Humping, pumping,
wanking and fucking, he did the lot, all to his son. Every time he shoved
in, he felt like he was coming home, completing the circle his own brother
had started with him. Forefilling the fantasies he'd had about his own
father, providing that service for young Billy before the boy had even the
chance to have it.

 Somewhat squashed beneath his father's heavy body, Billy didn't think about
anything but the prick pounding in and out of his rectum. Playing with his
brother had been fun but that was kid's stuff when compared to what his
father could do for him. He didn't need anyone to touch his pricklet for
that was doing fine by itself as it pressed and rolled about the spunk
drenched clothing, jumped each and every time his arse got poked from
behind. He'd had so many orgasms he'd lost count, unsure there was any gap
between them.

 Suddenly, it was all over. With a strange cry Mr. Nelson rammed himself as
high up into Billy's column as he could get, hugged the boy good and tight
and shot his fatherly spunk out in great gushing streams.

 For several minutes the couple remained joined at the hips with the larger
of the two pricks still stuffed into the smaller anus even though it wasn't
as hard as it once had.

 "Billy," Mr. Nelson groaned.

 "Yes dad," sighed the youngster flexing the internal muscles of his rectum.

 "Why were you looking for me? Did your mum want something?"

 "No. It's Paul."

 Mr. Nelson panicked and tried to regain his prick. Billy wouldn't let it
go, so he asked, "He's not in trouble is he, your brother?"

 "No! Not yet but he wants to be."

 "What's that mean?"

 "NOoohh!" exclaimed Billy as arse filled again. "But, he wants to be."

	The thrusting resumed as the youngster explained the teenager's plan,
exciting his father's lust to a pitch that would have been unheard of by
Mrs. Nelson.