Walk in Lies Chapter 9

Sometimes I wallow in the mire and root for garbage. This story might be that.  The following story is for adults and contains graphic descriptions of sexual contact between tweens,  adolescents and adult males. There is, of course, a power imbalance in these varied relationships, and considerations of consent are blurred.

If you are a minor, then it is illegal for you to read this story. If you find the subject objectionable, then read no further. All the characters, events and settings are the product of my overactive imagination. I hope you find it cathartic. Feel free to respond.

If you would like to comment, contact me at eliot.moore.writer@gmail.com.

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(First Edition Posted May, 2007)

Walk in Lies

Finn is Ready

“Cain won’t be here this week.”

“Where is he going?” Vikki asks. It is a foolish question. Cain has his places about the city and Alea would not know most of those. Cain comes and goes because he is Cain. “Mica is still here.”

“Yes, mom messaged from Piedras Negras. Couple of days, they will be home again.” Their parents would have run through their money. Vikki realizes why Cain is crashing at a friend’s house. Cain and his father do not get along. Vikki shudders. Her father is coming home.

Alea notices the shudder. Vikki is their father’s favorite now. The sisters only have each other, but they are on their own when the men want them. “I don’t suppose it matters that the bitch-boy is around, but the Bitch-boy’s Holy Roller father is going to kick his faggot ass out if we don’t send him home soon, then the useless whore will be living here all the time. That might cause us problems when mom and dad show up. It costs to feed him, and he is not paying his way anymore. I’m not going to work forever either.”

That makes Vikki shudder. Alea is thinking about her doing tricks full time like Bitch-boy and Little-bitch are supposed to be doing. “You don’t have to work, Alea. That’s what the boys are for.”

“Is Finn ready?”

“Were you? Was I?” The sisters only have each other. “Mica can fuck him ready, explain how to handle Tricks. Can you find Finn clients?”

“In five minutes I could, the rich Man. Maybe that works out like the faggot phoning for Bitch-boy, something regular.” Alea knows twelve-year old Tia could work the streets 24-7. The city market is young girls, not eleven-year old boys. “I will keep looking for old perverts for Finn’s ass.”

“Okay, what about Mica?”

“Slut-boy is back to work too.” Alea kisses Vikki on the mouth. Their naked bodies twined together for a last lingering embrace. “You probably have until 6:00 to get the whore ready.”

Finn sits beside the crate where Mica lies curled against Burley. His Nintendo is angled so Mica can see the game he is playing. The teenage boy has lost so much weight in just four weeks. He has eaten nothing in three days. Mica is not sleeping at the moment. Finn can see he is trembling all over like the junkies he sees on the way home from school. When the Great Dane lies with Mica now, his great pink sausage is always half out of the penal sheath.

“Hey Mica,” the trembling stops a moment, so Finn knows Burley’s-bitch is listening. “Does doing it hurt worse with a grown man? Alea told Vikki I’m another fuck-toy for men today. She says my pussy Is big enough for men to do it with me, so you are supposed to show me how to boy-hustle.”

Mica’s eyes flick his way. He is trembling harder now. Finn reaches for the cage door and unhooks it. He has said more to Mica in one minute than all the weeks they have been together. “Vikki says you smell like Burley and I have to take you up and wash you.”

Mica nods his head. He stopped thinking about smells a long time ago. He crawls out of the cage so Burley follows him. The dog is sniffing at his ass. “Mica, Burley looks like he wants to hump.” Mica nods his head and stops. “I’ll help him.”

Finn does not think about the way Burley’s-bitch-boy spreads his knees out so his anus is presented for the big dog. It is just what Mica does to show the dog he is ready. The Great Dane is now accustomed to being handled by everyone. Finn masturbates the dog’s impressive prick. It is extended from its furry sheath two fist-fulls long. The little boy has to think of what his sisters expect him to do with strange men from now on. Finn has so many questions about going out alone.

Mica’s anus needs some lubricant. Alea says lubricant is important, so Finn coats his palm with a ready bottle. Burley will try to lick it off, but for now he's licking Mica and getting jumpy. There are things to remember now. Finn adds lubricant to the list. “‘Kay Burley, Mica’s ready, he wants you now.” Finn is just piping this to himself in his soft alto voice. He bits his lower lip as he polishes the animal’s swollen prick with the aromatic oil. “Up on bitch-boy, fella.” He is still stroking the dog’s prick. “In you go.”

Instead of sitting back to watch, Finn positions himself behind his dog. His hand reaches between the Great Dane’s rear legs and grasps Mica’s limp prick. Burley has gone in motion now, penetrating the teenager in his familiar short-lived frenzy. Burley is dancing on Mica’s waist. The dog’s front legs wrap around Mica as he mounts the teenager. Mica is braced against it. Mica’s scrotum is heavy and leathery on Finn’s thin wrist. The boy’s prick swells in his hand as the rapid bumping jerks Mica away from him.

“Go boy, go!” Finn whispers. “Hurry up, or we are going to be in trouble with Alea.”

Defecating, urinating, vomiting, ejaculating, mucus dripping, bleeding; Finn and Mica have experienced it all. Mica cares nothing about this latest violation, this being bred on a Great Dane. The dog gives him no pain. That is the only thing that matters to Mica until he is released from the Sykes’ basement.

Mica was a closet gay in June, and a hustler and boy molester in July. Now he knows he is less than that. It is just that bad that Mica senses when Burley ejaculates in his rectum. The alien organ fills him with its alien deposits. Burley starts to tug and whine. They will stay joined until the dog’s knot loosens in his anus.

Finn pets the paired genitals. It does not help dog and boy’s predicament. Finn has seen it all. A slut-boy and his dog is no longer new geography. Alea and Vikki have not said it, but it is pretty obvious that Finn is going to be used by Burley too at some point. They are all animals to Alea and Vikki. Burley does not know how to detach himself. “Just wait a minute boy.” Finn assures Burley.

Finn just watches the beast with two backs. Burley’s-bitch is curled under the dog with his face on his forearm. Partnering with the Great Dane is not a punishment. Getting slapped, pinched, being spanked and paddled, Mica’s beating in the basement, those are probably punishments in Finn’s mind. Being touched and touching others is just the circumstance of growing up in the Sykes’ house. Finn accepts the older Sykes’ attention to his small body as a simple animal necessity like defecating, urinating, vomiting, or bleeding.

Thinking something like, I’m only eleven, discerning the difference between good touching and bad touching is meaningless to Finn too. Mica protested, “He’s just a little kid!” The first time Alea told him to give Finn head. That meant nothing to Alea and Finn. Size is only relevant to what is possible. It is possible for a three-year old boy to sit on his hooker-mother’s bed and suckle a Trick’s spent penis while the strange man, who might be his own father, laughs at him.

Size matters, the smallest Sykes has always known that. Mica is bigger and stronger than Burley and Vikki, but Burley’s-bitch’s size does not matter in this case. Ultimately, Cain is bigger, so Mica is really doing what Cain tells him to do.

Finn really wishes Mica understood this before he tried to run away. It never enters Finn’s mind to run away. Finn’s busy hand is keeping the dog and boy engaged in copulation. Testicles and testicles, prick and prick, the threesome is no stranger than all the other couplings Finn has experienced in his long young life.

Curious to see, Finn lies on his back and scotches up between his dog’s skittering legs. He fondles the familiar shape of Burley’s balls. They feel different than his own. The heavy pink organ is half withdrawn from the tight passage, almost free and drawing the expected sticky semin with it. Finn lifts his head to kiss it. It tastes like Burley and it tastes like Mica. Finn tastes both best friends as they mingle together.

When he licks the dog’s long prick, Mica’s scrotum brushes Finn’s forehead. Finn switches to Mica’s body, but his hand is still clenching the Great Danes scrotum. He holds Burley for another second, then his dog finally pulls out of Mica. There is one last chance to suck the retreating dog-prick between his lips. Finn turns his attention to Mica’s flaccid prick.

Finn has his little hand clamped around Mica’s scrotum now. The boy’s mouth is nibbling on Mica’s prick. Burley is done. Another body wants its turn. I used to care about this, didn’t I? Mica surfaces from where his shattered mind has retreated for so many days. “Finn, enough. You said we need to shower.”

It would be funny, but it is not. Finn is determined to make Mica harder. Mica detaches the boy. He rotates and balances his body over the young boy’s bony hips. Finn is so serious beneath him. The things he’s seen and done, Mica shakes his head. He bends down and starts kissing the boy’s small mouth. He needs to bathe, he needs to please Alea, but Mica drops his dog-fucked body onto the oh so achingly slender boy.

The human flesh feels so good to Mica. One thin leg lifts up to catch Mica’s waist. Finn’s heel spurs into Mica’s dog-raped anus. Finn wraps an arm around Mica’s neck and shoulder. A questing hand reaches down to clutch Mica’s prick. Mica rapes Finn’s mouth with his tongue. He is molesting a little boy, but his humanity is returning.

“Naked came I out of my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return thither. The Lord gave, and the Lord hath taken away blessed be the name of the Lord.” The Deacon walks slowly around Mica with his tumbler of Scotch in one hand and a small bottle of Lube Life in the other. “Hold out your hand, little helper.”

“You shall take the anointing oil and pour it on his head,” The Deacon squeezes a liberal dollop into Mica’s palm. “Masturbate yourself.” He offers his glass to Mica’s lips and the Whore-slut swallows. He stands firmly rooted to the floor and begins to coax his prick.

“I say unto you, that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.” The Deacon settles a palm on Mica’s flank so he can feel the muscle tension as the boy works his boner. “So …”

“You told them where I live!”

“Be quiet,” The Deacon replies mildly.

“Do you know what they did to me?” The man’s fingers slide across Mica’s ass cheeks, hooking briefly in his crack. They tap across the hip and close on Mica’s busy fist, pausing the self abuse. A thumb rubs Mica’s gland. Mica meets the Deacon’s eyes, accusing him.

“My son, do not despise the Lord’s discipline, and do not resent his rebuke, because the Lord disciplines those he loves, as a father the son he delights in.” The Deacon smiles wisely at the Whore-slut. “Worship your temple, Little Helper.” He prompts Mica. Mica resumes his masturbation.

“They starved me, they beat me.” Mica rebukes the man. He is very hungry, dizzy on his feet. At least I’m on my feet, Mica consoles himself. This is a shower jack-off. Mica can imagine the hot water running down his back. The Deacon stands unabashed watching his technique. Both hands wrap around his prick, one above the other. Mica moves the top hand toward the head of his prick and the other hand down toward his balls. He unconsciously bites his lower lip as he gently tugs up on his boner with one hand and down on the scrotum with the other. He holds for a moment to let the feeling register. His erection is getting bigger, then release and repeat.

When he ejaculates, it is an automatic catch in the palm of his hand. The teaspoons go to his lips as he milks dewdrops free. This is my body, Mica tells himself.

“The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and pay the penalty.” The Deacon observes. He offers Bitch-boy another drink from his glass. It makes Mica lightheaded on his empty stomach. “Stop paying the penalty, Little Helper.”

“I don’t know what you mean!”

“Masturbate some more, I know you can.” The Deacon freshens his glass and freshens the tip of the slut’s prick with Lube Life. “It is all very simple, Little Helper.” The tone reminds Mica of the Lout’s condescension. “If you are afraid to fall, then just don’t fall.” This sounds vaguely like a commercial for mobility assistance.

Mica has resorted to classic form. He has made a ring with his thumb and index finger around the base of his semi, and gently squeezes. This is his human prick ring — retaining blood in his prick and coaxing fresh pleasure. Mica’s other hand, in a fisted grip, pulls up and twists at the corona and glans. He brings his hand back down to meet the ring.

The Deacon steps close behind him and fingers his anus. “Submit to your masters, Little Helper. I’ve felt your body move beneath me. Walk in obedience to all that the Lord your God has commanded you, so that you may live and prosper and prolong your days.” More liquor is offered to the Bitch-boy’s lips. It dribbles down his chin and spatters Mica’s chest.

“A fool spurns a parent’s discipline, but whoever heeds correction shows prudence.” Mica listens and masturbates. “I delight in weakness, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong!” The Deacon gooses Mica. “Next time, in chapel, I want to see you cum in the back row. I want to see your pale cheeks burn as I watch you bare your sin to God. God resists the proud, but gives grace to the humble.”

“Ahhh, ahh!” Bitch-boy orgasms at the image and the memory of the Deacon copping a feel in the mingling congregation. Alea’s discipline, the spunk goes in his mouth. Walk in obedience, just don’t fall. He knew this before his date with Edan. Mica knew it during the long night of intermittent sex with the handsome Trick. He forgot it in the morning. Cain had to remind him of how things stood. His slut-spunk melts around his tongue. “I understand,” Mica assures the Deacon.

“If you understand, then don’t talk.”

“I’m so hungry.” Mica whispers, not sure of what he is asking for after his four-day fast. He sways on the floor.

“I’ll feed you, and then I will feed you.” The Deacon offers Mica another sip to mingle with the seminal fluid in his mouth. “I’ll have you on the bed.”

And will you hurt me? The Whore-slut wonders drunk, twice drained. He cannot spout Bible verses like the Deacon. The youth group has listened to homosexuals and drug addicts witness. The men and women warned that being Born Again should not be an emotional moment. A sinner will always seek another emotional moment after they have trespassed once again. It is just a moment when you realize God is real and you believe the good news. This is real, the Whore-slut believes it.

Mica has one knee on the bed, prepared to climb onto the altar, when the Deacon grips his hips. “Your cheeks are like a bed of balsam, banks of sweet scented herbs. Your dark lips are lilies dripping with liquid myrrh.” The Deacon runs a hand over MIca’s groin, gathering the last of the lubricant. He draws his fingers across Mica’s anus.

The Deacon takes Mica on the edge of the bed, one knee raised to his shoulder, a leg planted on the floor. As the Deacon’s long shaft sinks into deep rectal cavity, the man says, “I am what I am. Say it with me, Little Helper. I am what I am.”

“I am what I am.”

“I am who I am.” The man adds, drawing himself out of Mica’s rectum to the anal lips. Then presses in again as Mica repeats his words.

“I will be what I will be.” The Deacon continues, the deep penetration continues, and Mica echoes the Trick’s words. “Again,” the Deacon urges persistently. Mica complies. “Again,” the Deacon directs, and the boy beneath his hands and engulfing his prick complies.

“I will be what I will be.”

“I create what I create.” The Deacon urges ass Mica’s muscles open helpless to his assault. The Laars boy was a light that could not be hidden about the congregation. Sitting by his parents, larking with the boys his age at the back of the Hall. As he grew closer to manhood, his hair grew longer. Samson’s strength, the Deacon understood this very well. The Deacon is Chosen by God. He knows this with certainty. Mica in the Sykes’ Gehenna-Sodom is proof positive he is Chosen.

“Every good thing given ...” He tells the young whore in his hands with a sharp thrust of his pelvis. “... And every perfect gift ...” the Deacon’s boner is entirely sheathed in the warm flesh. “... From above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation ...” The Deacon feels the first seeds clamouring to come, “... or shifting shadow ...” The man groans his ecstasy. “... Every good thing given! I am who I am, say it with me Mica!”

“I am who I am. I am who I am.” MIca’s throat remembers the liquid fire of the Deacon’s whiskey and his anus flames now with the Deacon’s prick. Bitch-boy takes it up the ass. “I am who I am.” Just don’t fall, Mica warns himself. I am who I am, I will be what I will be. The Trick flames out deep in Bitch-boy’s rectum-receptacle.

The Deacon gives a good mind-fuck, and his prick is extra-long, extra satisfying, but he falls short. “Thou shalt not muzzle the mouth of the ox that treadeth out the corn.” The Deacon quotes as Mica eases the condom off his satiated prick. He pets Mica’s head as Mica sucks seminal fluids clean. The plumpness probes the back of Mica’s throat. The Deacon takes the reeking latex and squeezes it out onto Mica’s offered tongue. “God’s curse on the world,” the Deacon pats the gift-from-god perfection of Mica’s navel. “Condoms by necessity, Little Helper. My seed should be fertilizing your young flesh.”

“If you want,” Mica answers. Edan and others have cared less about sexually transmitted disease. I am who I am, the Whore-slut reminds himself.

“Hmm,” the Deacon mulls the invitation over. He strokes. The lips that kissed his prick. “Little Helper, whore. Delightful as that might be, you’re unclean now. “Can a man take fire in his bosom and his clothes not be burned?” Mica sucks the man’s prick back into his mouth. “How many times have you been fucked, Little Helper? Hmm?” The Deacon’s prick responds to his little Jesus-slut’s tongue. “Thus they became unclean in their practices and played the harlot in their deeds.”

“Are you hungry, Little Helper? Shall I feed you?”

Mica was ravenous in the crate with Burley. Finn fed the Great Dane in the kitchen, so he could not even snatch dog food from the bowl. Now hunger’s torment has abated. Mica’s body has been mining fat for fuel. His breath is acetone and the Deacon feeds him spunk and smokey Jack Daniels to cover the natural toxic fumes. “If you want,” Mica replies. “Or fuck me.”

“Yes, let’s do that, Little Helper.”

Mica rolls onto his back and waits, prick-limp, toes brushing the carpet beneath the bed. The Deacon’s bedroom has a stippled ceiling. I am what I am, Cain’s Bitch-boy stretches out his arms, searching for the ropes that should bind him. There should be ropes, the Whore-slut tells himself.

The Deacon has found a fresh made-for-harlots condom to protect his prick. As he returns to Mica’s position on the bed, Mica lifts his legs to open himself to the Trick. Later, the Whore-slut will pleasure himself in the kitchen for some scraps of food. He takes the seven-inches to the hilt with a satisfying wince. Bitch-boy misses the Lout. The Lout would cuff and slap him, I will be what I will be, Mica promises Cain and God, Alea and Burley. Bitch-boy watches the Deacon’s pudgy face. From the front of the Chapel, the man has mastered mind-fuckery, but he cannot Master Mica’s starving body. The Deacon is utterly indifferent to satisfying the gift God gave him.

Mica’s knees press into his biceps, his nails scratch along his thighs as he contemplates the moonscape on the ceiling. The Deacon has his mantra-Bible verses, each disjointed phrase some stream of consciousness flow to celebrate his dominance. Bitch-boy has his rectum-prostate celebration. The Ox is unmuzzled as he treads out the spunk. The Deacon is utterly indifferent to incidental paroxysm occurring around his middle age prick. Mica is what he is, a temple-whore splayed open for the Elect, the Chosen. The harlot dances on his indifferent prick. The Deacon snatches random verses to fling at the Wore-slut, and Bitch-boy speaks in tongues.

“The power of Christ compels you! The power of Christ compels you!” The Deacon releases the daemons from the teenage body. The Deacon empties himself into the perfect-imperfect vessel. The man massages his spunk up from the sunken gut toward the raised nipples on the whore’s flat chest. There is a fey abandon to the slut beneath him. It is all pent up somewhere when the boy sits in the back of Chapel with his friends. Prim and proper boys, but the devil slips across their adolescent faces as the Deacon watches them from his seat beside the pastor. This one, the Deacon knows, This one God brought me.

Birley’s-bitch graduates to Little-bitche’s room. Such a promotion, Mica tells himself. Alea tells him he will have to sleep in the old camper trailer the moment the Sykes’ parents turn onto their street. There is no talk of going home. Mica is beyond afraid to ask. His family will think he simply disappeared like the wastrel son he is. Mica wanders the house and watches broadcast stations on the battered television. He says little, Mica complies explicitly to every direction. I am what I am, Burley’s one-time Bitch reminds himself. Just don’t fall, just don’t fall and I am who I am, are his new mantra. His body heals.

“I don’t remember him hurting me. That was years ago. Cain was small back then.” Finn adds. He soaps Mica everywhere, rinses and repeats twice. This gentle intimacy is novel. Finn is taking care of Burley’s-bitch like he takes care of the Great Dane. “You look better, Mica.” Finn whispers, stroking the strong flank and upper thigh.

“I feel better.” Mica assures the boy. “Okay, turn around.” Mica begins washing Finn. “The dildo you made is bigger than me.” Mica assures Finn.

Finn rebuilt Alea’s crude phallus from the core up. He coiled clothesline, and electrical tape to hold it about the douche’s phallic length. The improved dildo is both easier to take, and accidentally more erotic. Finn was sent to jail with the new dildo seven inches up his rectum. The second wrap of clothesline around the tip and Finn’s clenched sphincter held it in while Alea thrashed him with a curtain wand. Alea did not appreciate the implication that a man could make one better than she could. The dildo Finn made is actually about Finn’s-bitch’s diameter. Finn is pretty sure about that.

Mica is on one knee behind Finn. Two soapy fingers are deep in the eleven-year old’s rectum massaging his prostate. “This is part of why it feels good.” He explains quietly. Mica’s other hand is masterbating Finn’s boner and low-slung scrotum. There is this soothing bump against Mica’s forehead. They are both waiting for Finn to peak.

The Deacon warned Mica about this coming date. “I have a friend, an important friend. I’ve told him about you and the little Sykes boy. He wants you both. “Slaves, in reverent fear of God submit yourselves to your masters, not only those who are good and considerate, but also those who are harsh. You think the Sykes can hurt you? This man is really powerful. Just remember that, Little Helper.” Mica has been worrying about this coming date ever since.

“There might be a fat dildo tonight, but it will probably be a smaller penis.” Mica pauses the masturbation while he runs his free hand up the firm muscular wedge of Finn’s gut to his penny nipples. Most boys Finn’s age would have a protruding gut and plump ass. Finn is a tight package, five feet tall. The Sykes’ feed Finn very little and it all goes into stoking his furnace. “Foot up on the edge, little man.”

Alea assures Finn that boys are hopeless sluts. Mica’s fingers in his anus are slutty. You two are such sluts together, Alea opined when she stopped to watch them bathe. Finn is okay with being a slut. The soap is an uncomfortable burn, but Mica is right. The fingers up his bum do not hurt.

“Okay little man, you’re squeaky clean. It’s showtime.”

Mica feels much better. His tremors are only noticeable to Finn. Mica is totally screwed in the eyes of his father’s God. In for a penny, in for a pound, Mica decides, I will be what I will be, just don’t fall back into the basement. This sexually precocious tween is a step up from the family dog. Mica presses his fingers down on the small acorn in Finn’s rectum.

“You’re hurting.” Finn starts to pant and scream. Mica’s free hand is caressing Finn’s chest and neck.

“No, not like that!” Mica shows him how to do it better with desperate, inarticulate noises and some drawn out, trembling moans. “Ahhhh, ahhhh, eh, eh, ahhhhh!” Finn joins in and they do it together. “Like that, and only when my fingers go in your ass. When I press on your acorn, just single words like stop, no, hurts. Keep repeating them everytime you feel the push.”

Finn tries harder. He pants, yelps, and sobs convulsively each time the fingers plunge in his anus. “Better, I like the way your voice catches in your throat like you can’t breath. I think the Tricks are going to love that. Try pulling my hand away. Remember, you can’t be too strong!”

“Which hand?”

“This hand.” Mica taps Finn’s chest.

This will be more difficult. If there is one thing Finn learned early, it is you do not fight back. Fighting back is naughty and that means he has to go to jail in Vikki and Alea’s room. Finn tries to pry Mica’s hand away from his chest. They struggle for a bit. When the hand groups down to his prick, the tussle moves down. Finn giggles.

“You can’t giggle.” Vikki remarks from the toilet seat.

“And you forgot your crying. It all happens at once.” Mica adds. Finn nods understanding. “You are fighting me, and it hurts so much.” The role playing resumes. “Take my meat you little bitch. You like this, don’t you? Take it, take my jizz, I’m going to breed your little ass.” Mica growls the words. No, no, please! Finn sobs back, while somehow pressing his ass deeper onto Mica’s fingers.

The two slut-boys wrestling together disturbs Vikki. Finn’s struggles and desperate, painful heaves are too much like her own when father or Cain uses her. The men would not waste their breath on her. If she struggled like Finn does, there would be a hard slap. Alea still struggles, but she is far stronger than Vikki, and Cain loves it when she struggles.

“You want this. It feels good to you. This is the first time you ever felt this good. It feels so good that you need it to stop, but you hope it never will.” Mica ends cryptically. He still massages Finn’s prostate, he starts masterbating the immature package.

“What does that sound like?” Finn has not seen pornography yet and Sykes’s never experience bliss together.

“Sort of like Burley getting set to breed on slut-boy here.” Vikki offers. She whimpers and groans. Her body writhes with pleasure. “That’s the cum-dump when Burley fucks him.” She starts to hum eagerly. “That’s when fuck-boy is sucking the cum out of Burley’s dick or sticking his tongue up your pussy.”

He tries it all. Finn is convincing. He vibrates and moans against Mica’s fingers. Finn offers his groin to the teenage fist. This game is easy, because his whole groin area feels very good. Mica will reward him for his effort. Finn is a slut-boy now.

“When … how do I know which way to be? Aiyya ughhnng ah, ah, ah, eeannng!” Finn’s orgasm leaves his body bent like a bow. His ass cheeks are clenched about Mica’s fingers and his purple prick is jerking like Burley. Mica keeps swiping the frenulum and hypersensitive corona about the little glans.

“That’s for real.” Mica whispers near Finn’s ear. Finn’s answer is a shivery nod and the convulsions around Mica’s fingers. The fingers leave Finn’s rectum and join the action about the boy’s groin. “Now you know what you are supposed to sound like.” Finn nods in agreement.

“You’ll know,” Mica answers the boy’s earlier question. “Now that you have been serviced, twist around and kiss me in appreciation.” Mica says sadly. The thin boy twists around for a kiss. Mica is on his knees, so Finn bends down to meet his lips. Mica keeps Finn erect, massages the slack scrotum possessively as if the little balls have just released an ejaculation. Finn props a leg on Mica’s bent knee. This exposes his groin to Mica’s busy hand. He opens his mouth so the fifteen-year old can French kiss him like they did in the basement. Mica’s boner slithers in his hand.

Vikki wonders if she could feel this way with Mica. She snorts to drive the thought away. “Sluts, the pair of you. Rinse off and blow dry your hair. You both have to be ready.” With that, Vikki leaves the bathroom.

Mica breaks the kiss. “Lie on the edge of the tub.”

“Are you going to fuck me?”

“You should know what is coming. It might hurt.”

Finn nods. It hurt when he was a small boy. Cain always hurt him in his haste. He made the enema-dildo just like Burley’s-bitch so he would know how this moment would be.

 “You are still small, but it doesn’t hurt everyone.”

Finn has sucked Mica’s prick. Finn’s lips can stretch around the slut-boy’s boner, but his mouth is too small to take in the length. Finn always chokes when a prick goes in too deep. This is much easier. Finn’s sphincter relaxes and his anus opens for the three-inch girth. There is room in his rectum for five of Mica’s inches.

“Did that hurt?”

“It stings.” Finn informs the other slut-boy. Mica thinks it is the soap. The sex is Burley style. Mica strokes carefully back and forth. Each time he fills the little rectum, he thinks he feels his prick through Finn’s thin abdomen. “Which noises should I make? Should I try to keep your hand away from my dick and nuts?”

“Not now, just get used to me inside you.”

“You came.” It was done so quickly.

“Yes I did.”

“I almost came again too. Can you …” Finn stops himself from finishing. Slut boys don’t ask for anything. Alea would not be pleased with him. Mica seems to understand. He stays in Finn and strokes his spent prick until the feeling grows again. Finn has reached his second orgasm in the tub. His young voice echoes loudly about the family bathroom, because it comes from somewhere wrapped around the teenage prick.

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