Fuck My Dad

FUCK MY DAD by JRoyale October 2014 (Revised 4/17)

Founder's Day in a quiet little 'burg features a special treat for the winners of a game of chance.

This story depicts graphic sexual intergenerational encounters. It is meant soley for a mature audience. Resemblance to anyone living, dead or not yet born is purely coincidental .

The author wishes to express his warning that this story is largely un-PC and contains material which some might fight offensive. Venture onward at your own risk.

Founder's Day in the small rural town of Lake's Edge was an annual affair. With a population of just under 7,000, an all-time high, the sleepy New England town dated back to the late 1700s. A picturesque jewel nestled in a deep valley and surrounded on all sides by rolling, wooded hills, it was aptly named due to the six acre expanse of heavenly blue lake located just on the outskirts of the town proper, serviced by a series of tributaries flowing down from the hills. Various cottages dotted the water's edge, summer homes for tourists anxious to escape the hectic pace of city life as well as permanent dwellings for some locals. Docks reached out into the calm water, mooring pleasure crafts and serving as a base for leisurely fishing and diving.

The sizeable town square was bordered on all four sides by a one-laned main street. Diagonal parking spaces allowed access to the tree-lined sidewalk and the store fronts beyond. The shops consisted of a small grocery market, book store, a barber shop complete with an old-fashioned pole in front, the local newspaper office and various other businesses. At one end of the square stood the Inn, the only place for lodging and dining in town, while directly opposite was the large white court house. Centered in the grassy square sat a canopied bandstand. Park benches and flower beds usually were all that dotted the area, a place for neighbors to rest and socialize in such pleasant surroundings. Behind the square were homes of the town residents, all old and quaint with the proverbial white picket fence out front. It was an idealic, peaceful community, bereft of large supermarkets and department stores. For those things one had to travel to nearby Willow Run or Graveston, accessed by the one main highway leading in and out of Lake's Edge. Those who didn't operate a business in town worked in one of those towns or the city, located more than an hour away.

The residents of Lake's Edge were largely male, with a 65% ratio as opposed to 35% female. Most who had lived in or somehow migrated to the sleepy little town grew restless with its lack of the amenities available elsewhere. Shopping malls and jewelry stores were more alluring than Pops Hadley's general store, handed down from generation to generation and in business for over one hundred years. Young women seemed more eager to live out their lives in a fast paced world, whereas the men of Lake's Edge, most of whom were born and raised there, thrived in the peacefulness.

Founder's was the one day when Lake's Edge came alive. From the moment the old cannon was ignited, signaling the beginning of the festivities, until long after the lakeside fireworks display at dusk, the square was a hubbub of activity. Out-of-towners poured in by the busload to share in the celebration, lining up curbside to watch the annual parade. The town square was littered with pop-up booths featuring games of chance and home-made food choices. Shell games, fortune telling, a kissing booth and a pie toss were some of the featured attractions. A large ferris wheel had been rented, skirting riders high above the trees and offering a magnificent view of town. One popular event was the dunking booth where some local official, be it the mayor, police chief or some other dignitary sat on a ledge and taunted the contestant to toss a ball at the bull's eye which would drop them into the cool water below. Scents of hot dogs, sizzling burgers and popcorn filled the air, children ran about and a good time was had by all.

Curiously enough, the most popular game with the younger boys and teens was a ring toss, playable by those under eighteen only, sponsored by the three Anderson brothers Various bottles were set up in front of the flaps of a tent, which seemed to serve no real purpose. The object of the game was to toss a ring across the counter at the front of the setup and land it square on a bottle. Each player was allowed to select three rings for a dollar. Enterprising little hooligans that they were, the Andersons were the only ones who knew that only two of the rings in a bucket of thirty actually fit down the neck of any given bottle. What was even more surprising to most was that there appeared to be no real prize for the potential winner. While most booths displayed dangling stuffed animals or some other item donated by businesses as far wide as the nearest city, there was nothing there at the bottle toss. Or so most thought.

All small towns gossip and Brenda Anderson was the talk of the town only a few short years back. Steve Anderson, a former marine and all-around good guy, was diagnosed with a life-threatening brain tumor and required risky surgery. The surgery to remove the tumor was a success but Steve suffered complications. Something had happened to his brain during the delicate procedure and Steve, a one-time mechanical engineer, was rendered incapable of thought processes which had come so easily to him in the past. Brenda claimed he behaved as if he were as young as his teen age sons, carefree and with no responsibility. The doctors concurred that Steve's brain waves showed a marked change. Brenda tolerated the change in her husband for a little over a year before she packed up and took her sons out of Lake's Edge. Locals were appalled by Brenda's selfish actions---the subsequent divorce---and rallied to support Steve.

It wasn't as though he was completely helpless. Steve tended to the upkeep of his home, planting the garden and mowing the lawn, as diligently as he ever had. But when it came to writing a check or making a major decision he was totally inept. His out-of-state brother was given power of attorney and handled Steve's bills via internet. He received a decent disability check once a month but rented himself out mowing lawns and doing yard work for Lake's End residents for extra cash. Many eyes lecherously peered from behind lace curtains when Steve, stripped to the waist, rode his mower across a lawn. He was a good-looking, dark-haired ex-Marine with impressive musculature, enhanced daily by his post-surgical fascination with weight training. It was as though he was a kid all over again---a kid trapped inside a man-sized body.

Brenda, always on the prowl for a new husband, was a lousy mother. Always had been. Before his tumor Steve had been the disciplinarian in the family. Without his once firm hand the three boys had run wild. Todd, Tommy and Timmy, aged seventeen, fifteen and twelve respectively, were mischievous teens with a well-honed knack for trouble. Not a week went by that Brenda wasn't being summoned to the school because of some prank one or the other had pulled. Todd, the eldest, was on the brink of expulsion and Timmy, the youngest, seemed to be following in his footsteps. Just before year's end he had taken it into his head to cut off Melissa Sue Henry's pig tails as she sat in front of him in mathematics class. Tommy was no better than his brothers but, perhaps, even more frightening. He was the brooding type, always with his brow furrowed. Brenda wasn't exactly sure what was going on in his mind, but she knew whatever it was wasn't good. That's why she eagerly shipped her sons off for weekends with their father as often as possible, even though she knew they'd get no supervision there. They were little hooligans and would most likely one day wind up serving time in jail. Better to wash her hands of them sooner rather than later.

One after the other their classmates tried their hand at ringing a bottle while Todd held a bundle of bills in his hands, weighing their profits. Word of the Founder's Day game had spread like wild fire throughout the school and the result was a virtual mob scene in front of the booth. Each boy was desperate to dip his paw into the bucket and select the correct ring. Bobby Farraday muttered a defeatist "fuck" when the last of his rings failed to make purchase, clearing the way for Matt Dwyer to take his chance. Matt, a ninth grade classmate of Tommy's, stepped up to the counter. Slapping down a dollar he reached into the bucket Tommy held out for him and made his selections. The other boys stepped aside as he carefully lined up the first bottle and tossed, barely missing making contact. The second skittered around the neck of the bottle but was not a perfect fit. He paused, took a deep breath and concentrated before tossing the last of his rings. He badly wanted to win, intrigued by the promises of the middle Anderson brother. The black ring flew through the air, turned about twice and landed perfectly in place on the middle bottle of the assemblage. He shot a fist into the air, bellowing "YES!" amid the cheers from teenaged onlookers.

Anchoring a palm on the counter Matt vaulted over the platform anxious to collect his winnings. He had a wide smile on his wholesome, fifteen-year-old face.

"Kudos, Matt-skie!" Tommy said, bumping fists with his classmate. "You're the first, dude!"

Older brother Todd came up beside them. "Take him on back, Tommy. He won this shit fair and square."

Matt was all eagerness as Tommy led him toward the entrance to the tent. Tommy pulled back a flap just enough to allow them entry and quickly shut it behind them. Matt gave a strangled gasp when he saw what was contained in the inner sanctum. A makeshift sign dangled from one support reading "FUCK MY DAD" and there, on a low wooden picnic bench, lay Steve Anderson, the boys' father. Mr. Anderson was buck naked, his big muscular arms secured behind him while a noose around his neck loosely connected him to a peg on the table top. Awestruck, young Matt gaped at the big, older man. Mr. Anderson was definitely what the girls called a hunk. He was probably the same age as Matt's dad, late thirties, but he was a real handsome dude. His light brown hair was worn conservatively short and parted at the side, framing a wholesome face accentuated by deep-set hazel eyes, a thick jutting and, Matt guessed, sensual lower lip and a strong lantern jaw. Everything about the man's strong body spoke of masculinity. Matt figured the stud must pass on dessert because there wasn't a trace of fat on his impressively muscled frame.

Mr. Anderson's rolling biceps were even more prominent with his heavy arms secured behind his broad, tapered back. Marine dog tags dangled from his thick, ox-like neck, resting against his wide, hairless chest featuring nicely mounded pectorals capped by large golden brown succulent man-nips. His belly was flat and trim, rippling with abdominal indentations, his thighs huge in comparison to Matt's developing teen legs. Even his feet were the perfect man's feet, large and meaty. And the fat man meat lazily resting along one thigh looked to be about six to seven inches soft, maybe more than Matt had when sporting wood! Golf ball sized nuts nestled between the spread of his smooth legs as he casually lay there on his side looking over at the boys.

"Wh-what's your dad doing here---like that?" Matt stammered, his mouth gone suddenly dry.

Tommy spread his arms and nodded toward his father, "Dad's the ring toss prize!"

Matt's eyes widened. "B-but you said we were gonna get some pussy if we won."

Tommy's eyes were dark as he advanced on his father, calmly resting there with his legs positioned in an "L", one on its side and the other cocked up and anchored on the sole of his foot. Matt's wondrous eyes bulged when Tommy reached between the juncture of his hunky father's legs and, without hesitation, stuck his middle finger between the folds of the man's asshole. "This here's pussy," he informed his classmate while working his digit in and out, "Dad pussy. And best you're gonna find around these parts."

Matt was amazed at how calmly Mr. Anderson accepted his son's man-handling. Everyone knew the boy's father had gone a little soft in the head after his brain surgery, but it seemed unlikely that he would show no resistance. There was no gag in his mouth to prevent him from voicing an objection. Instead, it seemed as though he actually enjoyed being lewdly fingered. His eyelids were fluttering dreamily and his tongue was flicking out to lick his lips. Tommy had added a second, then third, finger to the mix and was really shoving them in and out of the moist asshole. There was an almost maniacal look on his features as he blatantly frigged his dad in front of the other boy. A stunned Matt observed Mr. Anderson's cock begin to stir. Like a waking snake it stretched out across his thigh, then slowly rose as it filled with blood and plumped up to its full ten, beautifully sculptured inches.

"Ya see," Tommy said, "he fuckin' likes it. Fucker likes it even better when there's a stiff dick up his dad hole. Now, you gonna take your prize or you gonna pussy out?"

"Damn, Tommy, I dunno," the slim fifteen-year-old replied, although the bulge in the front of his knee-length shorts proved otherwise.

Tommy's brows furrowed. "We ain't got all day, dude. Some other boy's gonna ring a bottle and want his turn. We can't have 'em lined up out there or somebody's gonna get wise to what's goin' on." Then, with a sweep of his arm, "Come over here, dickhead!"

Matt swallowed hard and gingerly approached father and son. Up close Mr. Anderson was even more breathtaking in his unabashed nudity. "Gimme your hand," Tommy commanded agitatedly. When Matt hesitated Tommy, using the same hand he'd been fucking his father with, roughly grabbed him by the wrist and brought it between Steve's parted thighs. "Go on, finger fuck him a little. Once you get a feel of that hot dad cunt you're gonna wanna fuck it for sure, dude."

Matt felt a swampy warmth emanating from Mr. Anderson's private spot and tentatively rubbed the tips of his fingers against it. The handsome older man let out a sigh of satisfaction and encouragingly ground his ass back on him. Seeing that it was alright with the dad, Matt worked his middle finger in between the rubbery folds of ass flesh and slipped it in as deeply as it would go. Steve's warm ass walls lovingly caressed Matt's digit, tightened up around the small intruder and seemingly attempted to pull it deeper inside. Matty's mouth was agape with wonder and his teen cock was creating a wet spot in the front of his shorts. He really liked the feel of Mr. Anderson's asshole. The only pussy he'd had before belonged to eleven-year-old Janey Perkins; this was a whole lot better! He liked it so much that he worked in two more fingers, his eyes bright with excitement as he corkscrewed them around in the man cunt. Mr. Anderson squirmed on the table and bucked back against him, the three boy digits feeling more like the pleasurable width of a cock in his adult puss.

Tommy backhanded Matt across the back of his head. "Awright already, pull out your dick and fuck him!"

Any reservations young Matt had upon entering the tent were long gone. The fifteen-year-old was hot to fuck! Fumbling with his zipper, he stepped out of shorts and briefs and climbed up onto the table. Mr. Anderson was still on his side propped on one side, but Tommy had taken hold of one of his muscular legs by the ankle and lifted it to the roof thereby spreading his father like a wishbone. "He's already lubed. Go on, fuck 'im," he commanded. Matt could only imagine how the lubing session had gone but, by this point, he no longer cared. Scooting between the juncture of Mr. Anderson's marine thighs the boy eagerly shoved his six-inch teen dick into the heated daddy pit. He threw back his head and sighed, his trim body trembling, at the sensation of Mr. Anderson's asshole clamping down on his boy dick and massaging it in the grip of its snug glove.

"Fuck me, boy!" came the deep, baritone voice of Steve Anderson. It was the first time he'd spoken since Matt encountered him in the tent, the first verbal affirmation he'd given to this lewd undertaking. But his words seemed to incense Tommy.

"Shut the fuck up, Dad-slut!" he retorted angrily, roughly jerking his father's beefy leg. "You know the rules. You don't get to say 'nuthin!" Steve obediently nodded at his son, then redirected his attention to the lean young man buried in his hot dad ass. He nodded again at Matt, as if to offer encouragement. He quickly learned that the excited boy needed none. Entrenched in Tommy's dad's hot ass Matt started humping with short but fast rabbit strokes, fucking the slick hole as deeply as his teen dick would allow. It felt awesome, like nothing he'd ever imagined before. Mr. Anderson's insides were squirming around his young meat and clinging to him as if afraid to let him go. Matty's dick never fully came out of Anderson's fuck hole. He rapidly fucked with the first three inches of his randy teen rod, his young cum-loaded ball sac continually slapping against the grown man's naked flesh. The kid's breathing was already becoming labored and beads of sweat were dotting his brow. Like all young pups he was full of wonder and exuberance at sinking his horny dick into any accepting soft, warm hole.

Neither of the boy's noticed the self-satisfied smile that played about the lush lips of Steve Anderson. Although trussed up and secured to the table he was anything but an unwilling participant in his sons' perverse game. Prior to his life-threatening surgery Steve had been a pussy-loving, heterosexual man. But afterwards, things had changed. The doctors and his brother explained it to him, but Steve hadn't thoroughly comprehended their words. Something about the tumor and a complication from the surgery that altered his brain somehow. Steve had trouble comprehending this. He didn't feel any different. In fact, he'd never felt better in his life! He was in great physical shape and worked hard to stay that way. The townsfolk, most of whom he'd known all his life, were friendly and kind, inviting him to social gatherings and bringing him an unending supply of scumptuous left-overs and baked goods. Maybe it was the tumor, but Steve couldn't remember them being so neighborly when he was married to Brenda.

And his boys came over. Often, especially when school was out. They loved him. He knew they did. They couldn't seem to wait to be away from their mother and spend a few days, sometimes weeks, with dad. They taught him things. Things he'd forgotten. Or maybe never knew. They taught him that his male ass was made for fucking. It was a secret thing sons did with their dads, they convinced him. So secret, in fact, that he must never tell anyone. Timmy, with tears brimming in his then-eleven-year-old-eyes, had pleaded, "Please, daddy, don't tell! If mommies find out, they don't let daddies see their little boys anymore!" Steve never wanted to make his sons go away for good. He would do anything to make them happy. Anything.

Steve's asshole flexed around the teen cock humping into him, just as his boys had coached him. Matty wasn't reaching as deep as some he'd had, nor was he as shallow as some others. It was relatively comparable in length to Tommy's prick, although Tommy had more girth. Tommy was a really nasty fucker. Steve couldn't understand where all the boy's aggression came from but he seemed to take it all out on his dad's cunt, usually pounding Steve until he was sore.

Just the other night Steve had been tucked comfortably into his bed, reflecting on the pleasant day he'd spent with his sons paddle-boating and picnicking at the lake, when the door suddenly burst open and the room was flooded with light. Rising on am elbow he squinted and was able to make out Tommy standing there with his finger still on the switch. The teen, clad only in his boxer briefs, had a sinister sneer on his angular face as he looked across at his hunky dad.

"Tommy?" he inquired. "Is there something I can do for you, son?"

The surly youth with the longish mop of wavy hair hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his briefs and dropped them around his ankles, revealing his pulsing hardon. "Yeah, dad-fuck," he growled, pulling on his dick and approaching the foot of the bed, "you're gonna take care of this."

As Steve watched wide-eyed, the fifteen-year-old grasped a handful of the bed coverings and tore them from his father's prone body. The boys had taught Steve the advantages of sleeping in the raw and Tommy was secretly pleased to see that his father had obeyed. "Turn around," Tommy ordered, "I'm gonna fuck you like the fuckin' dog you are!"

Steve winced at Tommy's foul language but failed to reprimand him, lest he upset his boy. "You don't want to wake your brothers. They've had a long day," Steve reminded him as he obediently rolled over, propping himself up on knees and elbows, his big daddy ass thrust out toward his son.

"Sleepin' like fuckin' babies," Tommy told him as he spat into his palm and coated his teen cock with the lube. "You're my piece of ass tonight, Dad-fuck!" With that retort he slapped Steve's ass cheeks hard, noticing that the solid cakes barely jiggled. Aroused he repeated the measure again and again, cocking his arm all the way back and making solid blows until his dad's buttocks were a fiery red. Steve winced and grunted through clenched teeth, his daddy dick filling with blood and growing beneath him.

With his excited teen cock dripping a rope of pre-cum, Tommy hoisted himself up behind his father and rammed all six inches of himself into Steve's hole. Steve heaved forward at the sudden intrusion but Tommy grasped his dad's hips and pulled him back into position. Tommy pulled back only a couple of inches and sunk in again, teasing his father. He leaned in closer over his father's back and whispered into his ear.

"You like that son-cock, don't you, Dad-slut?" Steve could smell the nicotine on Tommy's breath and made a mental note to speak with his son about that dangerous habit. "You want me to rip your ass apart with my dick, right? Right, Dad-fuck?"

Steve breathed heavily. He did like the feel of cock up his ass. His sons had taught him to like it. And he knew it pleased them every bit as much as it pleased them. His pleasure, as always, was secondary to theirs.

"Yes, Tommy!" he replied in his deep, baritone voice. "Dad wants you to fuck him! Fuck him good, boy! Make him proud!"

Tommy grinned evilly and came up on his toes. Hunched over his father he began piston fucking his randy teen rod in and out of the hot bottom. Steve was slack jawed, his mouth agape and his eyes focused straight ahead in an almost hypnotic gaze as Tommy plowed him with reckless abandon. Tommy repeatedly drove his cock into Steve, his pelvis slamming against the man with each wicked thrust. With an almost maniacal gleam in his eyes and a sadistic smile on his face he drilled Steve with his teen shaft, crashing into him as if he were trying to hurt the dad ass.

Steve could always count on really getting fucked when Tommy was in the driver's seat. Todd and Timmy could also get a little rambunctous when they wanted to, but Tommy was always a forceful fucker. It was hard going, but Steve attempted to constrict his ass walls against the foraging member. Tommy wasn't quite as big as his older brother, but dad had no problem feeling it. He relished in the sensation of Tommy's pistoning cock sliding along in the confines of his ass and stabbing at the clit they had told him was up inside him. It sent wave of pleasure to every nerve ending in his brawny body and caused his dad cock to spasm and leak a steady flow of sac lava.

"Fuck me, Tommy!" he managed through gritted teeth, knowing how much his middle son loved nasty sex talk. "Fuck my dad ass hard, boy! Harder!"

It was all the ammunition Tommy needed to amp up his efforts. With his hands pressed down on his father's tapered middle back, Tommy lunged into the hot hole with vicious full-force thrusts. His backside was a blur as he fucked into his father---totally out of control now. He was panting heavily and muttering incoherently as his prick sawed into the man, his balls swinging heavily and noisily slapping against manflesh. His pants became grunts, his grunts became sighs and suddenly he was whimpering like a wounded animal as his pent-up teen load blasted into his dad's fucked-out man cunt. Winded, he fell atop his father, who dropped down onto the mattress, trapping his own hard cock between his belly and the bed. Tommy's hands caressed the muscles of Steve's big arms and his rounded shoulders and his lips traced the back of the man's bull-sized neck while he ground his cock around in his sea of cum. Then, suddenly, as if shocked by his actions the boy bolted up, ripping his boyhood from his father's ass and scrambled off the bed. Steve rolled over onto his back, big daddy dick standing tall and angry from his groin, and raised on his elbows to curiously observe his son.

Using his briefs to wipe his cock clean, Tommy scowled at his father. "Get to sleep, dad-fuck. We want breakfast nice and early in the morning. Gotta work on our booth for the Founder's." And with that he flicked off the light switch and left the room. Steve lay back in the darkness, wrapped his hand around his meat and stroked himself to a quick, satisfying climax before drifting off into a peaceful sleep.

Now Matt was hammering into Steve with as much gusto as Tommy had on that night. But both Andersons knew Matt wouldn't last much longer. He was far too aroused. And that was fine by Tommy. He needed to keep things moving so that his dad's cunt was freed up for the next winner. He observed Matt's slender ass cheeks dimple with each hurried fuck thrust. His bare ass trench was glistening with teen sweat. A finger from Tommy suddenly shoved up that ass would get him off in a heartbeat, but the younger Anderson knew he wouldn't have to resort to that ploy. From the sighs and moans coming from Matty he surmised the kid was only seconds from launch.

Matt proved him correct by suddenly tensing and ripping his boy meat from the hungry hole. Standing on his knees with his eyes rolled upward in their sockets and his mouth agape, Matt gave his ass-wet dick a few strokes and the cum began blasting out of his tube. Volumes of young, spunky boy cum spurted outward, spraying over Steve Anderson's big cock and hefty balls. The kid moaned and shuddered through his orgasm, the likes of which he'd never had before. Tommy, standing on the sidelines, grinned wolfishly at the sight of his father's genitals coated with his classmate's spent cum.

Barely allowing the kid to catch his breath Tommy was already tapping Matt on the shoulder. "Alright, dude, you're done here. Move aside for the next."

Matt looked as though he'd just had a major revelation. "C-Can I try to win again?"

"Nuh-uh," Tommy told him. "Only one win allowed. Now get the fuck out of here. And keep your mouth shut."

Matt scrambled for his clothes. "No way, Tommy. I ain't sayin' nuthin'. You sure got an awesome dad!"

"Yeah, he's a real fuckin' prize," Tommy smirked. Once Matt had exited through the tent flaps Tommy went over to stand before his father. With arms folded over his chest he mockingly inquired, "Did you like that, Dad-Fuck? Did you like your hole gettin' torn up by one of my buds?" His ears perked when he heard shouts and applause from just outside. "Sounds like you're about to get your next customer. But first we gotta clean you up." He reached for a bucket of water resting in a corner of the tent and, lifting it, said, "Nasty Dad-Fuck with all that teen cum all over you!" In one deft motion the contents of the bucket were hoisted against Steve's groin, effectively washing away most of Tommy's spent load.

Just then there was motion from the entrance and twelve-year-old Timmy came into the arena, leading a younger boy by the hand. The kid was cute, with a host of freckles on his chubby cheeks and wheat blond hair done in a bowl cut.

"Who da fuck is this?" Tommy addressed his youngest brother.

"This here's the new winner. His name's Jeremy and he's in the fifth grade." Jeremy's eyes were wide as saucers staring at the naked stud with a raging boner spread out on the picnic bench.

"Does he even get a hard-on?" Tommy quipped.

"Course he gets a hard-on, ass-wipe," the younger brother retorted. "Can't cum yet but he can get a woodie harder'n you prob'ly. Now get the fuck out so he can hop on Dad. Unless you wanna watch."

"Fuck you, little bro," Tommy spat back. His brother never ceased to amaze him. The kid, although young and with less experience, was probably the most perverted and inventive of them all. Thrusting up his middle finger he turned and made his exit.

Jeremy stared dumbfounded at the grown man. "I-is that really your daddy?"

"Yeah, dude, ain't he hot?" Then quickly, "For a dude, that is. Was a marine. You know what they are, right? Real macho manly men. Only my dad, he likes to get fucked. Likes to suck, too. He'll do anything we want him to do. Ain't that right, daddy?"

"Whatever my boys want," Steve replied, tenderness apparent in his deep voice.

"See? My daddy's like a big toy for us to play with," Timmy went on excitedly. "And he 'specially likes it when we play with his butt. Just look!" Jeremy didn't really need to follow Timmy's pointed finger. His wondrous eyes were fixed on the bare butt-hole hungrily pulsing right in front of them. He absent-mindedly fondled his poker-stiff, four-inch boy-cock through his shorts.

In actuality it was Timmy who had become most fascinated in playing with his father's ass since the Anderson men's reunion. He wasn't much older than Jeremy when the brothers took dominion over Steve. Watching his daddy getting repeatedly fucked by Todd and Tommy, and knowing how good it felt when he slipped his immature dick into the warm chasm, made Timmy naturally curious as to how much the man could actually handle. His experimentations commenced the moment his brothers were out of the house. He found a host of items to shove up into his father's ass. Broom, mop and screwdriver handles made him giggle but there was a real sparkle in his adventurous eyes when he invaded the family refrigerator. With Steve up on the butcher block kitchen table, lying on his back and holding his beefy legs wide spread, Timmy fed him an assortment of fruits and vegetables. Ripe bananas, fat zucchini and an extremely dangerous-looking hot-house cucumber were stuffed into the expanding hole. Timmy sat on his father's chest, naked as a baby, maniacally thrusting one veggie up his father's ass while working the other into his mouth. He didn't even stop when Steve, hand's free, shot a big daddy load. Timmy tortured Steve, sometimes for hours, into a second and third orgasm with assorted produce, sausage and kielbasa. As if that wasn't enough, the demented tyke soon got the idea to work his young arm into his daddy, punching into Steve up to the elbow.

And then there were the men wide-eyed innocent Timmy lured to the Anderson home. Most were travelers lodged at the Inn for the night, just passing through town. How his young son enticed them into coming over to the Anderson house to fuck his dad remained a mystery to Steve. But it seemed to make the youngster happy. While the businessman pounded his hefty cock into Steve's muscle ass Timmy laid beside them, pumping his cocklet and encouraging them to really plow his daddy. Steve was pleased by his boy's obvious joy.

Timmy never failed to surprise with the assortment of treats, sometimes dangerous ones, that he brought home. He managed to coax Wiley Jim, the town drunk, into getting it up enough to fuck his dad and then piss a bladder full of cheap beer into his father's gullet. With the promise of a warm place to stay overnight he brought two hobos nested in a cardboard shack along the railroad tracks into the house and gleefully giggled as the unwashed pair double penetrated his father. Afterwards, it took over a week to air the stench of the two out of the house. Possibly the most frightening was the ex-con Timmy corresponded with via internet, inviting the freshly paroled black man to Lake's Edge for a weekend. It was quite a surprise when the heavily muscled 6'6" giant showed up on the Anderson doorstep with duffle bag in tow and even more of a shock to the other brothers to learn the big man fucking their dad had been convicted of aggravated assault. When the weekend was over the giant didn't intend to leave and it took some special conniving on the part of all three---and a good deal of Steve's cash---to finally get rid of him. There was never a problem luring some pedo to the Edge. A few had flown in from out of state at the young boy's request. Sometimes Timmy let the pervs suck his boy cock, but only after they'd fucked a load into his dad. Possibly his most twisted "hook-up" was when he "borrowed" the Freemont family's German Shepherd...

Although he was only ten years old, Jeremy was already a horny little boy. He peeked through his parent's bedroom keyhole plenty of times and delightfully watched his daddy fuck his mommy's cunt. He'd even spied on his older teen aged brother wanking his rod. Jeremy was wide eyed when Jason flipped his legs up over his head and managed to lick the head of his pee-pee until it shot all that ball goo over his face and into his mouth. Jeremy's little pricklet was hard as steel observing all the familial goings on and he wanted a piece of the action for himself. When he heard the underground buzz around school from Timmy Anderson he knew he just had to try his hand at scoring those rings and seeing for himself if everything Timmy said about his daddy was true.

And it sure as heck was! There lay Mr. Anderson, all naked with his big daddy cock harder than a nail and his shit hole looking like it was begging for a little boy's attention. Harboring all those hedonistic fantasies he'd fashioned from watching his family in action, Jeremy excitedly rubbed his hands together, smacked his lips and advanced on the dad on the table. With big blue eyes peeking out from under white blond bangs he stripped himself of all clothing and, with Timmy's assist, climbed atop the picnic table. The heat emanating from the grown man's masculine body overwhelmed and enticed him.

"Do anythin' you want to him," Timmy encouraged, "He's a nasty daddy."

All Jeremy could think about was sliding his little dickie inside the wet, winking asshole and doing what he'd seen his daddy doing to mommy. Sometimes daddy fucked mommy's snatch really, really hard and seemed to like it best that way. That's what Jeremy wanted to do; really lay it on to a pussy like his daddy did. Mr. Anderson was so much bigger and so much stronger than him. Young Jeremy had never had a piece before; all he knew was from his peeping. That's what he had to do: really fuck the man's ass just the way his daddy would do. He knew his little prick couldn't do the damage his daddy's big seven-incher would but he was gonna give it all he had. If it wasn't for the eighteen-and-under ring-toss rule his daddy might just be standing there in his place right now, throwing his big cock to Timmy's dad. Jeremy puffed up his pudgy under-developed chest just like his daddy would do and crawled between the spread of Mr. Anderson's hairy, muscular legs. Far too excited for any preliminaries, Jeremy easily slipped his underage prick into the inviting man hole---and instantly went into dry orgasm. His pudgy little body spasmed and quivered while Mr. Anderson's hot pussy squeezed tightly down on his sensitive cocklet. Even though it had lasted only a couple of seconds Jeremy was in complete bliss.

"Fuck Jer, my dad was your first pussy, wasn't he?" Timmy acknowledged. "That's alright, dude. Sometimes he makes me cum real quick when I fuck 'im. Just keep fuckin' his ass. The second cum is even better'n the first."

"T-T-Timmy," the youngster gushed, his head tossed back and his baby blues rolled up in his skull, "It feels sooooooooooooo good!" Mr. Anderson had his ass muscles clenched so tight around Jeremy's boy cock that the tyke thought he might snap it right off at the base! The adult asshole felt totally awesome---really hot and nicely moist around his buried little-boy meat. The contours of Steve's butt cheeks dimpled as he clamped down on the small dickie, just like the older boys taught him to do to Timmy when he was Jeremy's age. The youngster would derive more pleasure out of it that way and, besides, Steve wanted to feel something, too.

Young Jeremy was like a little speed demon, the baby fat on his still undeveloped body jiggling as he sawed his cocklet through Steve Anderson's gripping sphincter. His tongue hung out, curled over to one side of his mouth as if he was meticulously working at the job. His wide baby blues were focused on the point of contact, mesmerized by the sight of his boyhood moving in and out of the wonderful fuck hole.

"That's it, Jer!" Timmy cheered him on. "Fuck my daddy!" There was an almost insane glint in his eyes and the smile of satisfaction illuminated his cute face. Quickly deciding to join the fun he stripped off shorts and undies and jumped up on the table with the other two. Steve, his arms still manacled at the wrists behind him, had propped himself up on the elbows---probably not the most comfortable of positions, although his sons had placed him in a lot worse over the past few years. But Steve never complained. Whatever his boys wanted.

Facing Jeremy, Timmy planted his hairless legs to either side of Steve with his butt hovering right over his head. "Okay, daddy, I want to eat my ass just like you did last weekend." With that said he reached behind himself, pulled his ass cheeks wide apart and lowered himself onto his father's face. Readily recalling their late-night session, after the other two boys had fallen off to sleep, Steve craned back his neck and eagerly anticipated the approach of his youngest son's asshole. The ripe scent emanating from Timmy's boyhole caused his nostrils to flare; young boys knew so little about proper cleaning. As the tiny dart came closer Steve's tongue flopped out of his mouth, at the ready. The little pucker hovered just an inch over him, the hairless lips spasming and twitching with desire. Steve lapped at the little ass mouth, running his tongue over the silky folds of boy flesh. It tasted funky, it tasted raw and nasty. But it was his boy's---and a heck of a lot sweeter than that homeless wino Timmy had made him raunchily rim a few months back.

"That's it, Daddy," Timmy wailed, grinding his twelve-year-old ass against his father's face. "Eat my shit hole!"

Jeremy watched, his mouth agape, as Steve's tongue lapped at Timmy's ass like his kitty to a bowl of milk. Timmy's five inch boycock was poking out hard as steel from his almost-hairless groin and he was holding his nut sac out of the way so Jeremy could get a clear view. Seeing that Dad-tongue licking through Timmy's trench enticed young Jeremy to ram his pricklet even harder into Steve's still-tight man cunt.

Steve used the tip of his tongue to circle around Timmy's tart pucker, then used it to probe between the delicate petals of his rosebud until he'd drilled it inside the boy's stinky hole. He dug deep inside his boy, farther and father, until his tongue could go no further. Steve's lips were a wide oval, plastered against Timmy's exposed hole as he drove into his son's dirty ass. His cheeks hollowed as he sucked while he tongue fucked, ingesting all the tasty juices from the boy's randy hole.

This dad/son action was way too much for Jeremy, who had never seen---let alone considered---such depraved acts before. With a cry and a shudder he had his second dry orgasm up Mr. Anderson's awesome asshole. Somehow Steve managed to clench down with a vice grip on Jeremy's little dick, making his release even more spectacular. Jeremy couldn't help but notice the endless stream of pre-cum oozing from the adult man's big cock head and pooling on his taunt belly. He prided himself in knowing that he'd attributed to that.

Jeremy had barely come down from his cum when Timmy ripped his ass from his father's greedy mouth, came around and rudely shoved the ten-year-old out of the way. "My turn to fuck some daddy ass," he announced and proceeded to unceremoniously shove his dick into his father's wet ass.

Timmy fucked hard with forceful strokes in and out of his dad's hungry butt. The maniacal gleam in his eyes, and the savagery of his thrusts, almost frightened the adult. But Steve had seen it before. He harbored a paternal concern for his youngest son, who seemed to exhibit almost sadistic tendencies. Up until now his brothers had been able to contain him, but Steve wondered what would happen when Timmy grew older and was an equal match for the others.

As if on cue the folds of the tent opened again and the eldest son, Todd, entered the small confines. Observing the action he made it over to the two in three quick strides, grabbed Timmy by the shoulders and yanked him off their father.

"What're you doin', you crazy little bastard," he barked.

Timmy picked himself up off the ground, brushed himself off and stroked his dick. "Fuck you, bro!"

Todd grabbed Timmy's discarded garments and tossed them at the youngster. "Get dressed and get the fuck out there. We have another winner." Nodding in Jeremy's direction he said, "You too. You've had your time, kid."

"Fuck you, asshole!' Timmy said again but he nevertheless donned his clothes and marched out of the tent with the ten-year-old.

Todd whistled low, lit up a cigarette and ran a hand through his dark, medium-length hair. Once again he'd managed to avert another potential catastrophe engineered by his sick little bro. The damned kid brother could never seem to follow his older sibling's simplest instructions when it came to their Dad-whore. The way Todd figured, Dad was like some kind of action figure to Timmy: a toy whose movements he controlled. The more perverse those actions, the more Timmy got off on it. Secretly Todd had to admit it was a turn on witnessing some of the degradations Timmy brought upon their father, although Rex's dog cock knotted up Steve's macho asshole was almost, almost, a bit too much. Next thing they knew the kid would be taking their father out to the stables in back of old man Connor's yard. It wouldn't be beyond Timmy's curiosity to see if Dad could take one of those stallion's horse cocks up his fuckhole. In fact, he was surprised the little freak hadn't already thought of it. Give him time.

Todd placed the middle finger and thumb of his left hand between his lips and whistled loudly, signaling the coast was clear for the next prize winner. Almost immediately the flaps of the tent flared open, slapped against the sides of the tent and hung there momentarily to frame the stud-mufffin standing in the opening. Jack Krupa was the big, muscular son of Viktor, the local ne'er do well from the seedier side of town. Viktor was an ace mechanic, the only one in the Edge, but his churlish disposition and affectation for the local pub earned him a bad reputation. Jack appeared certain to be headed in his father's footsteps. He was a surly youth with a penchant for getting himself into trouble. He was, what they would have called in Todd's grandfather's days, a "greaser", his dark hair slicked back from his forehead down to the nape of his neck. Jack was good looking in a Neanderthal kind of way. A big boy, standing well over six feet, he was all hard tight and lean muscle with tits that always pressed through his nearly-threadbare t-shirts and a great big bulge standing out from his tattered, tight jeans. Despite his nature Jack was popular with the local school girls, especially those with a fetish for rough trade.

His big biceps flexed as he crossed his arms over his strong chest, too broad for a boy of only seventeen short years, and stood there on widespread legs, one corner of his mouth set in a sneer as he openly appraised his prey. When he spoke his deeply masculine voice seemed to be coming from somewhere in that expansive chest.

"Some shit, you selling your daddy's ass at the festival, Todd-skie."

Todd tried to appear unruffled by his fellow high school sports team mate. "Daddy's just doin' his part for the festival." Then, "Look, Jack, if you don't wanna, I'll give you back your dollar."

"Dollar? Fuck that! I spent nearly eight before I ringed that bitch and I mean to get me some pussy. You better hope your daddy can handle it." With that he pulled his t-shirt over his head, revealing his perfect pecs with their painfully erect nips. Quickly unzipping his jeans, he had them down and over his black, calf-high work boots, along with his briefs, in record time. Todd had seen Jackie naked in the gym showers on an almost daily basis, but he was still awestruck by the physical perfection of the other boy. Jackie's big strong chest tapered down to a narrow waist which framed awesome oblique and abdominal definition. The bulge in his jeans wasn't for show; the stud had a chunky stalk that looked to be about seven inches soft. Todd had never seen it hard, but he could just imagine what his father was about to be taking up his already-primed asshole.

Steve noticed, too. It wasn't as if he'd been leaning back atop the picnic bench oblivious to things going on around him. He knew of Jack Krupa. Knew his father even better. They'd gone to school together, although Viktor had been one grade ahead of Steve. That is, until he'd dropped out. Viktor was a bully then, just as he was sure Jack was now. Back when they were kids Viktor looked pretty much like his son, all ripped muscle, until the booze got hold of him. Steve recalled being intimidated by Viktor. Heck, all the kids were. And right now, lying buck naked with a hard on and a greased asshole, Steve felt just as intimidated by his well-hung son.

Jack read the fear in Mr. Anderson's eyes, could almost smell it emanating from his hunky body. Smiling sinisterly he advanced on the scene. Deftly stepping up onto the table he straddled Anderson's body, one foot to either side of the man, and dropped down on one knee with his meaty prick hovering close to the adult's face. Roughly grabbing Steve by the back of the head he brought him closer to his crotch and commanded, "Take it in your mouth. Make me hard, dad-fag!"

Steve glanced over at Todd, who nodded encouragingly. Confident it was what his beloved son wanted he stuck out his tongue, swiped it over the head of the flaccid member and circled it around the flange. The dick tasted nice and sweaty, kind of like the road crew foreman's Timmy had brought home last summer after a hard day's work. Opening wide he sucked the whole dick into his mouth, straight down to the hairy root, and whipped his tongue around the underside of it. In almost no time at all he could feel the rod growing harder, wider and longer until Jack had him practically gagging on nine solid inches of tasty boymeat. Fully erect now, Jack held onto the back of Steve's head with both big hands and began forcefully fucking the man's face with long, hard strokes. On the sidelines, Todd became so aroused by the sight of the hooligan plowing his dad's face that he fumbled with the zipper of his shorts, pulled out his hard dick and began stroking it.

"Take that cock, you fuckin' dad-fag! That's it, right down your fuckin' throat!" the boy snarled. "Fuck, Todd-skie, you never tole me your daddy was so good at suckin' cock! If I'da knowed me and my boys would've been spendin' lotsa time at your place."

The idea of Jack and his buds gang-banging his father had Todd's cock leaking pre-cum. "A-Anytime, Jack. You know where he lives."

"Yeah, but first I gotta find out how well he takes a fuck. The bitches I know, they don't like a hard, mean fuck. You gonna give me a nice fuck, huh, dad-fag?" Steve's response was garbled by the big dick sawing down his throat. Jack pulled back and taunted him, "Tell me, dad-fag. Tell me what you want."

Steve swallowed hard and replied hoarsely, "Fuck me."

Jack grinned widely and scooted down between the spread of Steve's thighs. He glanced at Steve's winking asshole, wet and primed for a hard fucking. Taking his fat meat in calloused palm he aimed the head at the slick pucker and rammed his cock right into the pink hole. Steve winced at the forceful penetration but his manhole opened to accept the teenager's dick. With one vicious thrust Jack had buried all nine inches deep inside Mr. Anderson's nicely tight butt hole.

"Oh, fuck yeah!" Jack groaned, tossing back his greasy head and grinding his dick around in Steve's colon. "I love a tight pussy! This is gonna be sweet!"

With a mean scowl on his face that frightened Todd Jack completely pulled out, but before Steve's cunt lips had a chance to regroup he shoved it right back in to the balls. With a relentless force Jack proceeded to fuck Steve with deep, hard and vicious strokes. His tight ass was a whir rising and falling as he plundered the inner depths of the handsome father. His big cock went to the root with every battering thrust, plunging at a breakneck speed into Anderson's quivering guts. His muscle-bound frame quickly became bathed in perspiration, droplets spraying from his forehead onto Steve's face and into his panting mouth.

Steve had been fucked by his sons so many times over the past few years that his ass-pussy instinctively knew how to accommodate them. But, with the possible exception of Todd's maturing rod and the strangers Timmy brought home, it was a rare occasion when he was presented with a real challenge. Although he didn't need to tighten up around Jack's big boy in order for them both to achieve maximum pleasure, he did anyway. Jack's teen prod twisted through his guts as he rode him at breakneck speed, fucking him deeper than any of the other game of chance winners had thus far. The scowling boy's hips pounded into him relentlessly, his cum-laden balls smacking against Steve's adult butt with each gut-wrenching thrust. Steve felt so full of big, hard teen cock, the thick member battering his prostate and causing waves of delicious sensations to wash over his hunky body. He hardly realized that his daddy dick was standing up painfully hard, had turned an angry shade of purple and appeared near ready to explode.

Todd stood only a few feet away, slack-jawed and gawking with wonder at the way Jack Krupa was raping his daddy's cunt. Absently he spit into the palm of his hand and lubed his cock for continued stroking, keeping eye contact with the hot action in front of him. He skinned his seven inches, remembering how good it felt when he was the one sticking it to his dad. But he'd never fucked him like this! Jack was a lean, mean fucking machine. Todd made mental notes as he soon fell into tandem with Jack, beating his meat along with Jack's fevered fucking. Already he anticipated his next encounter with Steve. His dad really seemed to be getting off on the way Jack was throwing it to him. Well, Todd would soon prove to his daddy that he could be every bit the fuck-monster Jack Krupa was.

Repeatedly, Jack bludgeoned Steve with his man-sized scepter. Jackie had fucked a lot of pussy in his few short years but nothing compared to shoving his dick up a tight, tiny asshole. All the bitches he'd tried fought him like the devil, then went away crying when he'd gotten a piece of ass. But even for those few seconds he'd managed to breach their shit hole it had felt so incredibly tight! Unlike those bubble-heads Mr. Anderson wasn't fighting him at all. Appeared to even be getting into it. It didn't even faze Jack that it was another dude's ass he was plowing. An asshole was an asshole. And this one was so fuckin' tight, so' fuckin' hot that he just wanted to fuck through it as hard as he could. A twisted smile came to his face every time he felt Steve's channel grip around him, making the fucking even tighter than before. Anderson really wanted it. And Jack was more than willing to give him everything he wanted. The daddy might have thought he'd been fucked before, but he hadn't met Jack Krupa.

Steve was panting heavily now and both boys could easily read that he was gone. All the muscles in his big body seemed to tighten up and then, with a bellow loud enough to be heard throughout the festival, his big dick shot like the opening festivities' cannon, shooting unprecedented amounts of man-cum up into the air. He heaved and thrashed on the table, desperately trying to extricate himself from the teen dick torturing his prostate and making him cum again and again. But Jack, with spent daddy-goo running down his chest, held him by the hips and fucked him through orgasm. It felt so fuckin' good with Mr. Anderson's ass twitching and writhing about on his big, throbbing stud prick. He'd never felt anything quite like it before!

Todd groaned, his mouth hanging open and his eyelids tightly closed. His trim body arced, bowed at the spine, as he furiously fisted his teen meat, his cum level gone from simmer to the boiling point.

"Git over here and shoot it on his face!" Jack ordered. And Todd obeyed. On shaky legs he stepped up close to his father, ready to drop his seed all over his parent's handsome face. But, just at the precise moment that Todd let out a little yell, Steve turned his face to the side and homed in on his son's dick. Sucking over half of it into his mouth he groaned as the first splash of warm son seed washed over his tongue. "Ohhh, yeaahhhhhhhhhhhh!" Todd groaned as he unloaded himself into his hot father's warm mouth. Steve slurped noisily on the teen's spurting prick and gulped down every last drop of heady jizz until his boy had been thoroughly milked.

"Sick fucker!" Jack growled, pounding into Steve now with slower but spearing strokes. He fuckin' loved drilling Anderson's ass, loved cramming every inch of his hard on right up that daddy cunt. It made his stud-prick throb with an undescribable pleasure. He knew now that his dick was made for fucking ass, hot man ass, and this wouldn't be the last time he'd get a piece of the Anderson sire. In fact, he might be a nightly dinner guest at their household.

Jack felt the pressure building inside. His heart was racing in his chest. His balls were tight and heavy, almost painful. He pumped with long, deliberate strokes, unable to defy the inevitable. His big muscular body was shaking all over but, greedily, he refused to give up on shoving his dick up that ass just one more time. Then another. His head tossed, his teeth gnashed. Steve clamped his ass down extra against his prick and Jack felt as though he'd been blasted with an electric charge. His eyes bugged and, with a deep muffled cry, he blasted his teen seed into Steve's clamping ass. His orgasm was a violent one, shooting a torrent of young spunk from the gaping lips of his cockhead into the clutching depths of Steve Anderson. He didn't think it would ever cease. He kept cumming and cumming, his strength ebbing away along with his sex. His muscular body slumped over Steve, dick still buried in the awesome fuckhole, and he panted heavily into the man's ear.

"C'mon bro!" The voice was Timmy's, coming fro the entrance to the tent. "We got two other winners. Jimmy and Jonny Caldwell."

"The twins from over in Willow Run?" Todd inquired. "What're they, like ten now?"

Timmy smiled devilishly. "Nine and a half. An' they're gonna fuck daddy both at the same time!" Then, as an afterthought, "Hey, no fuckin' fair! You give me shit about playing with daddy and looks like you did the same!"

"Shut the fuck up and get outa here. We're almost done," Todd ordered. Timmy flashed him a chunky middle finger and left them alone.

Jack was regaining his composure and coming up off Steve. His softening rod slid out of the older man with an audible squelch, followed by an ooze of Krupa cum. He casually donned his clothes, all the while addressing the Anderson boy. "Your dad's a real good fuck, Todd-skie. Maybe the best piece of ass I ever had. Must keep you boys real happy every night. An' don't you worry 'bout when you go back to the Run and stay with your mama. I'm gonna make sure your daddy keeps real busy."

Todd shuddered, thinking about Jack nailing his father like that every night. But Steve, propped up on the table on one elbow, had a satisifed smile on his matinee-idol-face as he casually fingered his drippping cunt in front of them.

"You trained yourself a real good dog," Jack snorted before adjusting his bulge, turning on his heel and leaving the enclosure. Todd watched him go and then turned to his father.

"Y-you okay, daddy?" he asked, surprised as his concern for the dad-fuck.

Steve paused in licking Todd's cum from his fingers to smile tenderly at the boy. "I'm okay, Todd. I love you, son."

"Yeah," Todd mumbled nervously. "Love you too, daddy." And then he was gone. And Tommy was herding in the horned-up Caldwell brothers, who fell on Steve like hawks to a dove.

On and on the procession went, with young boys and teens aged nine to seventeen getting the ultimate reward for ringing a bottle. By the time darkness had fallen and the midway lights were shining, no less than thirty visitors had paid a call to the interior of the popular tent. Then, at the stroke of ten, Todd changed the game's age limit. A crudely drawn sign now proclaimed, "Over 18 only!" The younger crowd dissipated, off to sweet dreams in their bedroooms, while the men took over. Judge Larson, Constable Harrison, Pops Hadley, Superintendant Sullivan and Ben Hadley, Jeremy's father, all tried their hand at winning the prize.

But it was Viktor Krupa, father of Jack and not yet three sheets to the wind, who managed to score the first ring. Rubbing his greasy hands together expectantly, Viktor didn't even wait for an escort, but barged right on into the domain of sexual pleasures......