---
title: 'The Littlest Entrepreneur, Parts 6 & 7'
---

### The Littlest Entrepreneur, Parts 6 & 7

Date: Sun, 21 Aug 2005 19:12:35 -0700 (PDT)
From: mghj4dads smith <mghj4dads@yahoo.com>
Subject: "The Littlest Entrepreneur" Parts 6 and 7

The Littlest Entrepreneur
Parts 6 and 7
By: Mr. gloryholeJUNKIE
mghj4dads@yahoo.com


Warning:
Please refer to that which appears in Part One.

And again, remember to leave the written word where it is - on the page (or
screen), gentlemen!


Preface:


A genuine insight into Fatherhood may sometimes be best understood if one
thinks of it - in shorthand - as consisting of two facets:

That "whole world of dad stuff" which is shared with mommies, in laws,
neighbors, the family's minister and society-at-large.

And the other half containing another "whole world of dad stuff" which is
known by or shared among only dad himself, his son know - and other men.

Ironically, the latter half knows they're part of a whole while the former
half thinks it is the whole!

Any dad or, quite frankly, adult male with a fully-functioning libido,
knows what that means.

While "mommy" thinks that she has it all figured out - including the notion
that her husband actually enjoys spending hours and hours out in his work
shed each night as he tinkers on that first motorized go-cart for his son,
he actually knows "the real dad scoop" that keep him out there after a long
day at the office.

Yeah, dad knows he's got a stack of twisted porn a mile high in one of his
metal cabinets out there - and that, already, he's got his kid hooked on
the stuff. What better way to assure that your son spends "quality time"
after dinner to "help out daddy".

So, while mom lives in her reality inside the house, Dad knows, as he
wrenches a big lug nut, that he's got a heavy-duty, hardcore glory hole DVD
playing out in that 16 x 20 work shed, volume set to low as it plays on
that cheap Wal-Mart player he put out there - the one he told his wife he
was putting out there for How-To videos and to pass to watch all the
"violent content" movies she won't allow in the house. Oh, and its (the DVD
player, um, not the kid) the one already coated in the messy mixture of
axle grease and daddy cum-coated fingerprints due to the many "show times"
he`s let his little son enjoy with him out there.

And while mom's inside telling her parents how wonderful their son did on
his spelling bee, dad knows how wonderful his son sucks big dick.

As she explains how cute their son looked in his first school picture, dad,
as he clicks away, knows how cute the pictures are of him with a thick
grown up cock in his mouth.

And only God could count how many nights that this dad has had his son bent
over while he calls up secret sex buddies, guys he's met in XXXs mostly, to
come over for a special show. In that work shed, there might be up to six
men -and dad - some nights, all beating off over a smooth tiny butt, its
tight pink rosebud getting thick fingers shoved into it as its laid out
over a saw horse- a far cry from the reality inside the house where mom is
making chocolate chip squares for "Cookie Day" at his school.

It's expression of that extreme dimension of Fatherhood that no one but
dads and other men could even possibly begin to understand. Ask any
man. Whether or not he agrees with it or whether or not he thinks it
immoral, or whether or not he'd ever do such things, he'll still say that
he understand it.

Of course, most dads aren't that direct in their expression of the other
half of Fatherhood. But, still, even for most dads, that special secret of
Fatherhood still exists.

They're the dads who simply go about things more covertly.

They make it a habit to walk around in their Jockey shorts only when the
wife's away. Interesting how many dads do that. A father who may be modest,
even conservative, throughout the week, will - when the wife is out for an
entire day and leaving him alone with his sons - suddenly decide to laze
around the house in just his bulging Jockey shorts.

There are dads who get full erections, even ejaculate, while holding their
young sons while they watch television together in the dim light of the
family room. And no, its not the first thing a man announces to the world
so, of course, their wives don't know - they're not supposed to know!

But that doesn't mean it doesn't happen. Its as "covert" a thing as
allowing a son's thigh to exert not-always-so-innocent pressure on daddy's
erection as he lays on top of his daddy. Oh, how a man will use his kid`s
body during "father-son t.v. watching snuggle time on the couch" - use it
like an after-work forty-five pound humpable blanket!

Or whenever he tucks his little guy in at night, only dad himself knows why
he keeps those old, ragged pajama bottoms he wears - the ones which his
wife just hates.

"I bought you brand new ones six months ago that you`ve never worn, Bob",
she says. "You're an account exec...you don't have to go around dressing
like a poor college student anymore."

"Yeah, but these are comfortable", he argues. "Can't a man be comfortable
in his own home now?"

That's how daddy lies to mommy, of course.

Because he knows that he keeps them since they're the one's that have the
missing snap. And because of that, dad knows they're the ones that cause
his big, hairy dick to plop right out of the extra large fly whenever he
sits down "just so" on the edge of his son`s bed. Daddy, in the back of his
mind, even calls them his "my tuck my son in at night pj bottoms".

Every dad has such pajama bottoms. And if not pajama bottoms, its that
special pair of Jockey shorts with the leg elastic all stretched out so
dad's heavy scrotum just might hang out. Or it's a pair of boxer shorts
that dad knows best shows off the massiveness of his lengthy penis. Or its
a towel he wears that keeps slipping or the robe that keeps opening or the
sweat shorts that he knows allows his schlong to swing big and obvious or
the business suit trousers that show off his meat snake or the jeans which
he knows catches his son's ogles in just the right spot.

Sure, as we all know, a son is always interested in knowing what his dad is
built like - how his old man is hung. More sons that you could ever count
try to get a look at or a secret grope of their own dad's meat. It can even
become an obsession for some of them.

Notice a boy of a certain age - they're utterly enthralled with watching
grown up penises as they hang out at urinals. And never, ever do you see
men shoo away such a young admirer. That alone is always very telling of
adult male sexuality. Whether single or married, a dad or not, older or
younger, rich or poor, Republican or Democrat men will let a youthful pair
of eyes feast on their adult meat as they whiz at public urinals or as they
take their time soaping up in the Y showers. No matter how sneakily they
have to do it, men will put on the best penis show they can for a boy -
even if they don't have (or never thought they had) intentions beyond
letting the kid get an eyeful.

Watch the men standing at urinals when a homosexually curious young lad to
working all the angles to see the penises of adult strangers in a men's
room. The kid is so cute acting as though none of the men catch on. And
yet, watch the men. None will stand closer into his urinal (as they might
do when an elderly coot might be ogling). Instead, almost every time, each
man, however subtlety, will let the kid look. Most of them even step a step
or lean back so as to give the little guy a real eyeful. Heck, you'll even
see men quickly step up to the urinals where the kid's already marveling
over three penises, just to unzip to show the boy one more big adult daddy
pants snack treat.

There's Human Behavior and then there's Male Behavior, lest we forget.

And many a'father, if one notices, will often let his little guy dawdle
while within such places. Who would have known that a dad washing his hands
and re-washing his hands would have its underlying motivation stem from
somewhere in perversion? You see these fathers washing their hands forever
as they give their son plenty of time to soak up the scenery being wagged
at him from the row of urinals.

And there is power in that ability - a power that is not lost on most
dads. With just a bit of maneuvering and feigned obsessive-compulsive
disorder, he knows he's letting his own son see the meaty penis of another
man - a stranger. And some dads get off to know that many men are wagging
their meat for his kid's attention.

And many argue, in fact many dads agree, its that knowledge of their own
dadly powers to make or cause things to happen that's a bit of the
libidinous turn on unto itself - knowing that you're allowing your kid to
see such sights. As pop meanders over to the hand dryer for the fourth
time, he knows he's giving some other men ample time to show adult meat to
his kid. The dad knows that his son is standing in a room with perhaps two
or more "pervs" at that very moment (and, how ironic is it that, here, mom
wanted dad to escort the little slugger in order to ward off those sorts).

But, again, its often all a part of the sense that most men share - another
of those Gentlemen's Agreements that if the tot's own dad brought him in
and isn't stopping the proceedings, he's offering his kid as fair game.

And many dads rationalize the notion that the warnings of pervs in men's
rooms is directed toward a boy when left on his own.

But when its his own dad taking him in there and is hovering at the sinks,
though, many dads then figure that men can play with his son in the stalls
all they like. Hell, that old time warning was for when a mom sent their
little guy in alone. But when he stands at the mirrors over the sinks in
the men's room - re-combing his hair for the fiftieth time - while his son
is with two or three men in a stall, heck, what's the necessity of any
warnings when dad himself is chaperoning the event.

That's not to say its right or in any way meant to condone it, its just the
way it is.

Or, equally "covert" but more daringly, there are the dads who purposefully
take a hike with their son down one of those wildly perverted trails in the
woods. Any other man on those trails knows what's up since a "decent" dad
would never have brought his kid to "those" woods.

But, again, this dad is merely dense and barely notices the fact that a
dozen men are tailing them. Why, he even smiles and says hello to some of
them - the fact that they're all single men over the age of thirty-five
never dawning on him. Why, he's just a happy dad out for a walk with his
kid...who is wearing a cartoon tee shirt and red Speedo a size too small
(Hey, it's a hot, humid summer afternoon, he didn't want his little guy to
get heat exhaustion).

And he is the sort of dad who always just coincidentally brings his son
directly to that hidden spot with the abandoned picnic table, isn't he?
Just a natural stopping place - for a rest (but of course).

So the table is covered in years of pornographic graffiti and the ground is
littered with scads of used rubbers. Its is a public forest preserve, after
all. Fortunately, his son just thinks they're weird balloons as he picks
them up, coating his fingers with the "funny goo" from each.

And dad just happens to hang out a real long time there. Time is
meaningless, he tells his son. "Gotta stop and smell the roses", he says as
he feigns fatherly advice...and stalls for time. Heck, he even hears a
special sort of bird. All that he wants is for his son to appreciate nature
as he tells him to look for the birdie.

Heck, he acts like he doesn't even know that over a dozen
birds...hawks... men are now circling the table where he and his son sit.

He doesn't notice a man over there next to a trashy bush is groping
himself. And he can't recognize the action of that other man over there
unzipping his trousers as he stands beside a scraggly tree.

He's the dad who doesn't seem to see the men stepping closer. He's the dad
who doesn't tell his little guy they'd better get a move on. He's the dad
who doesn't notice a hand on his crotch as some other men are feeling up
his own son as they all pull down his little Speedo.

Yeah, there are many of that sort of dad out there.

But heck, he only got the idea when his wife made him buy the extra large
container of BabyWipes that day they were all at Target. "We need one for
the car", she said. And when he then began to ask her, "Five hundred
BabyWipes? How can any kid go through five hundred BabyWipes in the
car...?" - well, ever since, dad's mind has been clicking.

But, technically, he didn't do anything. He's just a dad - with five
hundred BabyWipes in his backpack - who went to a public place with his
son. No one will ever know. And sure as hell, none of the men surrounding
that table where his son is now on his back is going to tell. You haven't
met a true buddy until you've met a perverted stranger!

After all, most of the men standing there exposing their cock to a kid in
such a way are, most likely dads themselves. So they know what another
father is up to when they see it. They know it and they know that if they
hadn't wanted their own son exposed to such, they'd have never guided the
tyke right into Stranger-Penis Central Station.

(And who counts the BabyWipes left in a container - so they've gone through
a hundred or so sheets by the end of the "hike"- whose going to know?).

Those are the semi-active things that dads do every day that helps to mold
a son after his own image, if you will.

Even dads of older sons are notorious for being the guys oftentimes who are
behind the posting of pics at many Internet forums. You know, those no-porn
pic forums for hot young bodies with posts called "Hey Guys, Check Out this
Smokin' Hot Dude!" with six vacation snapshots of some super hot half-naked
teenager bulging big in wet board shorts attached.

Many times, more times than mom (or a young man, quite frankly) could
handle, it's the dad among them who gets off (literally) on the salivating
clamor of response which his own handsome kid causes among men - who all
then create a string of replies six pages long about the kid being a stud
and asking for more bulge angles.

And that prompts another father to anonymously post his own son`s pics,
never admitting such, of course, as he creates a title like, "Hottie I saw
in ...uh...my Backyard". This dad then posts fifty-two pics that's he just
taken of his well hung teen aged son mowing the grass in just his
Speedos. The kid thought it was a little strange that dad kept snapping
away. In fact, he finally said to the old man, "Come on dad, how many more
pictures do you need to take just to send one to Grandma?" And although the
high schooler knew that digital photography was his dad's new little hobby,
he didn't know that dad was sharing his cute mug, big bulge and nicely
developing body for comment among masturbating men.

Heck, these fathers get off on just knowing that his own son could get a
blowjob from at least seventy men who have already all secretly discussed
(and jerked off) to his physique.

These are, more times than not, the family photos the dad has taken of his
college-aged son or his high schooler the moment he's turned eighteen.

Heck, many high school seniors are eighteen and able to get into any XXX
bookstore or theater after school. And their fathers know it.

And that leads to another dad who leaves all sorts of hints or clues about
some local XXX for his son "to find accidentally" (and on his own). These
fathers do everything from leaving a newspaper page open to an ad for a
local XXX - to leaving a matchbook with a bookstore's name on it in the car
those times he lends it to his son - to anonymously e-mailing the kid with
the info. After all, these dads know that their kid is old enough, if even
just barely, to get into a XXX.

Just the thought of a bunch of strange men slurping on his kid's boner and
sucking down big volleys of the family's cum is enough to get these fathers
off.

Many dads when alone in the family SUV with their high school son, will
purposefully drive by adult theaters and bookstores - perhaps mentioning
something of them in passing.

And the comments don't need to be at all positive in order to get a young
man`s libido into over drive. Saying (in an admonishing tone, of course),
"Damn. Another one of those dirty bookstores in our area. What`s happened
to this town? A man can barely drive without passing one of these
scandalous places where perverts are sucking off any guy who comes in at
every hour of the day and night...tsk, tsk!" can be just as effective as
the buddy-dad approach of, "There's another one of those places where a guy
can bust a nut after a bad date...only a dollar to get a blowjob sure
doesn't put a dent in the wallets of any of the young guys lining up after
midnight on a Saturday night to shoot into a live, hungry mouth all the
loads the gals didn't take."

Dads know there's now very high odds that their virile and newly legal,
young son will be getting his teen meat sucked, his extremely copious teen
sperm sucked down by whatever men are squatting in the dark corners of such
places the very next day - and for, perhaps, the rest of his entire manhood
(er, life).

Some of these dads show their even younger sons the route to the busiest
cruise woods. A simple dad and son morning of bike riding, becomes a dad's
way of showing how easy it is to reach the woods by bicycle. Many fathers
will just lead the way and it just seems a natural destination, the woods
(doesn't it?). He'll pedal his kid right to where the men cruise the
parking lot, and since they're on bikes, he'll even have his son follow him
for some "off-road" adventure. After all, that's why he bought his fourth
grader a mountain bike - all the better to navigate the suck trails.

Whether anything happens at that moment is beside the point. The kid will
be pedaling up there every day after school now that he knows the way.

But that's the way dads operate - behind the scenes - sometimes not even
letting their own kid into the loop.

And, often, just showing the kid "the route" is enough.

Some may say it's a father's turn on to be an enabler. To know that their
behind the scenes work or feigned looking the other way actually gets their
kid hooked on washroom blowjobs or park sex.

Like those who show their older sons the route to different XXXs, many dads
of younger sons will actually give a silent tour of all the active tearooms
they know of. Whether they do anything at that moment isn't even
important. The kid knows where they all are now.

Dads will lead their junior high son on what can seem a city tour of
tearooms. There are dads whose highlight of a father-son afternoon downtown
is the fact he's actually using the day as a ploy to show his son every
active pit stop.

Shopping some Tuesday evening alone with the young slugger, dad knows where
a boy's libido is at that age. Thirteen and the kid will put his cock into
anyone's hands. No use trying to explain to mom why two healthy guys, dad
and son, just happened to stop in three different restrooms while at the
mall for just two hours.

And many dads love strolling the busy financial districts with their son as
they stop in at every restroom where businessmen make a pit stop for a
blowjob. Some dads have actually led that one son of theirs, the one they
suspect of being a cocksucker, on a tour of city tearooms. Their casual
walk about just happens to have them hit six men's rooms - everywhere from
dad's own office building to a convention hotel to a subway station (and
they don't even take the subway).

But dad knows that the next time he suggests his son be dropped off to
spend a couple of hours by himself downtown or at the mall, he can bet that
the kid will make a beeline to one of those men's room.

Some dads will even drop of their son at a mall, saying he'll pick him up
again in three hours, to only go around the parking lot and park the car -
giving the kid a five minute head start. Those are dads who lead their sons
right to the chicken hawks. They know what they're doing, these dads.

Yeah, sometimes this type of father, already knowing what his kid is up to
sexually on such evenings (having read his son from little up), winds up
being the just the sixth anonymous Men's size 11 loafer tapping for a
blowjob being given to everyone under stall from the "Keds sneaker" in the
middle stall.

But more time than that, these dads park elsewhere just to then re-enter
through a different mall door. It never takes long to find his kid - and
there he is near the bench outside the men's rooms. Even from a distance he
can see what a cutie his kid is - he knew those tight jeans would attract
the men to his kid`s young cock and butt.

But this dad's "thing" is to then just hover in the distance as to watch
two or three chicken hawks cruising his son. This sort of father will sit
on a bench for two hours (yeah, behind a potted palm) to enjoy seeing the
bulging within the men's slacks as they chat with his kid - his own
son. He's the dad who smiles inside when he then sees his boy wander off
with a man, then return in ten minutes and then wanders off another
man...and then another.

This dad goes crazy when he sees two or three men walk his kid out to a van
for an hour of god knows what. But not crazy with anger, Instead, he's
crazy with father's gleeful lust. As dad follows but sits in his own car
watching that van, he beats off knowing his kid's nothing but a little
slut. And he wonders if the men are all sucking his kid's young dick or
bareback screwing his tiny butthole or shoving cocks into his mouth. He
even wonders if the men might be taking pics of his son inside that
van. Hell, they could be doing almost anything to his kid in that van. He
ejaculates as he thinks of his son being such a target for the mall chicken
hawks - that knowledge alone will be fodder for his own jacking off
sessions for years to come.

And when dad "swings by later" to pick up his son, he wonders just how many
men got into his kid's pants or down his throat that evening. He even tries
to smell cum on his son's breath. After all, he dropped off his kid to get
a belly load of the stuff if he wanted. Instead, his son starts talking
about homework and the fact he's sort of hungry (to which dad smirks).

Its just enough to know his son is doing it and that his own dad set him up
right that pleases these fathers.

Based on feedback from the first chapter of the story which follows, there
are minimally, three-hundred and twenty (after considering some margin of
error based on multiple identities writing, of course) - men all into the
same "interests".

Get these men around one picnic table or populating the sauna at the family
health club and whoa!

One can always figure out how many might be at a mall or a Boy Scout
Jamboree. But you also have to wonder how many are at nightly Little League
games or at school events or in the pews of church on Sunday mornings or at
the miniature golf courses. You know they're there - and in silent
droves. You know that if the family Y or water park is packed, there's more
than a handful of them there, too. And in the park, how many are just
playing Frisbee with their son and how many are hoping for more - a whole
lot more?

As a fan recently wrote to me:

"Motherfuck, man, do you hit the "nail" on the head. Fuckin love reading
your preface and nasty stories. You fuckin understand the wide spread
twisted perversions that a large percentage of adult men share.

Fantasy is the only and best way to relieve that tension. Thanks for
providing it for us all. Nice to know I have millions of buddies out there
that share this fuckin perversion. Maybe in your prefaces, you can suggest
some kind of covert signal men can use to identify each other. Like a
simple gesture like taking two fingers and running them up and done the
pinkie on your opposite hand. If anyone else saw it, it would look like a
quick scratch of an itch, but to other men, just a quick up and down once,
would signal....."like the little fantasy too."

Just a suggestion. Least you get to a lot of readers that would be
interested in identifying each other."

One's index and middle fingers of one's right hand slowly rubbing up and
down the pinkie finger of one's left hand. Seems simple enough - especially
when two or more men are in a place where it could all mean something.

As "The Littlest Entrepreneur" continues, you'll see what can happen when
dads and other men never get their signals crossed - signals never crossed
only once they've been sent out, that is.









The Littlest Entrepreneur Part 6


"Where's your little helper?", a tightly built older man in a casino jacket
asked Stan.

"Hey, Max. Who? Oh, you mean little Rudy?", Stan, the shoe shine man
replied as he buffed a customer's oxfords, "He's not here today."

The strong-jawed man was obvious as he tried to hide his disappointed. "Too
bad", the mumbled. "When's he here then?", he asked.

Stan smiled to himself knowing that Max, one of the sports book cashiers
was a good buddy of Big Frankie.

"His dad's got him working here only two days a week", Stan
explained. "it's a lot for a kid in the second grade. So he's got him set
up for a coupla hours after school on Tuesdays and Thursdays and then for a
bit longer Saturday afternoons."

"You got a second grader working the shoe shine here?", Stan's customer
asked as he couldn't help but overhear from where he sat.

"Yeah, well, I guess if your call it work", Stan said to the man with a
wink.

"What is that? Six? Seven years old?", the customer asked as he almost
nervously scratched his crotch just a bit. "Working here in a casino?"

"And in the men's room", Max added in a hushed voice.

The man chuckled as he replied, "Hell, the way you say that, you make it
sound as if the kid were in one of `dem stalls doing his work."

Stan turned to Max and asked, "So, you were talkin' to Big Frankie, then,
huh?"

Max, glanced around some and said, "Yeah...any of it true?"

Stan continued to buff the customer's shoes as he replied, "I never known
Big Frankie to lie."

"No shit then?", replied as his body tensed. "So what he said is word?"

"Yup", Stan replied.

"He gunna be here tomorrow you said?", Max asked. "'Bout what time?"

"After school", Stan replied. "If you can hold out that long", he then
added as he gave the man a quick glance to let him know that he noticed the
nice fat lump inside of Max's trousers.

Looking down at his own crotch, Max's face reddened slightly. "Hey, don't
mention I was here to anybody, okay?", Max asked Stan. "I'll be back
tomorrow afternoon, what? Three? The kid get busy fast?"

"Make it four", Stan answered. "If he shows up, he might be in full swing
by then. That is if he shows up."

Stan then looked to his customer as he added, jokingly, "You know how the
child labor is these days."

As the two shared a laugh, Max thanked Stan and wandered back into the
casino.

And as soon as he did, the customer leaned forward in his seat and
whispered into the side of Stan's head, "So what is the scoop on this
second grader?"

"What do you mean?", Stan replied feigning the very knowledge that his
smile gave away.

"Is it what it sounds like?", the broad shouldered man asked.

"What's it sound like?", Stan returned the question.

"Well, quite frankly", the customer said. "I mean, the way you guys were
talking...sounds like he just might be working a stall back there." The man
nodded his head toward the rest of the men's room as he spoke.

"Does it?", Stan baited.

"Well, yeah", the man replied. "I mean, I got kids that age and I can't
think of any reason I'd have them working the public toilets in a
casino. Is that even legal?"

"Why? Are you a cop?", Stan asked jestingly.

"No, I'm not a cop", the man laughed. "Its just a bit peculiar to have a
seven-year-old boy spending his after school hours in a busy restroom,
isn't it?"

"You should get out more", Stan replied as he laughed. "I seen some
toddlers in the men's room at the park near the airport that would make
your hair stand end."

"No, so come on", the man pressed. "What's a small child doing working
here? Really."

"He gives men a buffing ...for tips only", Stan replied. "His father set
him up here - like a lemonade stand of sorts as he`s telling everybody."

"In a fucking men's room?", the customer asked incredulously as he looked
around. "Hell, that's a dad I have to meet. I would never in a million
years stick my kid in a restroom."

"Yeah, but it ain't your kid", Stan smiled. "That's the beauty part."

"To get a kid who isn't your kid to polish your shoes?", the customer
asked, clearly confused.

"When did I mention shoes?", Stan replied. He then gave the man's shoe one
final buff and tapped the side of his foot, the signal that the shine job
was done.

As the man stood up and reached for his wallet, he asked, "So he does
more...this kid. Is that what I'm hearing?"

"If you're in the casino tomorrow...", Stan began to say.

"Yeah, we're here three days", the man interrupted. "I'm attending the Ford
automobile dealers conference."

"Yes", Stan said knowing the big events scheduled. "That officially starts
tomorrow. Brings in a lot of men."

"Yeah", it's a big one', the man replied.

"I know the hotel is sold out or so I heard", Stan answered.

"It could be", the customer replied as he handed Stan a twenty. "There's
also a baseball thing going on, too."

"Yeah", Stan clarified. "That's a two-day baseball camp that Hadrian's
Palace is sponsoring. A few sports stars giving high rollers insider
baseball tips."

"I saw a sign for it at the entrance near the Reception desk", the man
said. "Are Chipper Jones and Rusty Durkens really here at the hotel?

Stan nodded as employees were always instructed not to discuss high profile
guests openly. "Yup, both of them."

"Very cool", the man replied.

"I think Rusty Durkens might have even arrived a few days ago", Stan said
in a quieter tone. "He`s a big gambler though - like Michael Jordan and Ben
Affleck. These guys make millions in their contracts and then make millions
more at the tables."

"Or lose millions", the customer said. "I have done nothing but feed
machines since I arrived. I keep saying to myself, `Why even play? I might
as well just leave a fiver on each machine and walk away.' My wife hates
when I come to these things in Las Vegas. She says I always lose the same
amount that it would have cost to buy the kids textbooks and supplied for
the whole school year."

"She along for the trip?", Stan asked. "The wife?"

"God no", the man replied. "it's a conference, meetings until three. And
she hates flying anyway...hates gambling...hell, even hates screwing after
four kids."

"Sounds like you could use some perking up", Stan said sympathetically.

"That or if you know of any ...fun", the man whispered as he looked at
passers by over Stan's shoulder before trying to slip him another twenty.

"No need for that", Stan replied. "I like helping guests whenever, however
I can. What kind of fun you looking for?"

At that the man jingled the keys and coins within his trousers right front
pocket as he laughed, "Well, I know where the fun of the roulette wheel can
be found. I was thinking something more geared to a man alone in the
city...having a few days away from the old battle axe."

Stan knew exactly what the man was asking. Many guests and even the local
gamblers will ask their taxi drivers, valet parkers, the bell men, and even
the shoe shine men about connecting them with everything from a strip club
to a porn store to a "men's spa" to a hooker to some pot or more.

And those workers usually know all the places where men can find a good and
even perhaps a great time. Heck, Stan even thought of his buddy, Xavier, a
Vegas cab driver who could never get over how many married men, as they'd
lean back into the cab - while a wife would start into the hotel - and
actually ask him where a porn theater, or even a gloryhole might be in
town. He'd even see these same husbands maybe an hour or two later in the
taxi line and he'd drop them anywhere from the big porn theater in town,
"Steam Heat Adult Cinema" to "Vegas Knights", a huge gay bathhouse hidden
behind an automotive repair center.

These men are your real bulk of Las Vegas visitors, the regular guy, the
family man, the man on a mini get away vacation. Despite the aura of Vegas
being all about young single men partying with Jenny McCarthy and eighteen
big titted bikini hookers all night, that's a far cry from that which men
actually experience. Few men actually have hookers up to their room in a
major casino hotel. And most don't have cars to troll for streetwalkers in
the dangerous parts of town. Even if they bought a hooker's cunt for an
hour, with a wife and kids in the room, they'd have nowhere to take them
anyway.

And these men, married or not, when they ask such a question, never seem
interested in the mainstream strip clubs. Hell, few men do those places on
their own. Those strip clubs are geared for buddies to have some drinks and
laughs together or for crews of bachelor party revelers. They're just
clubs, after all - bars with glitz and tits. But the tits are just
decoration.

And few men who are in town on their own - and certainly with the wife or
girlfriend - want to spend hours at those places drinking alone.

Besides, after a long Vegas casino day, sometimes meaning two full days of
not having any real sex - what with all traveling to get there, the
distractions of gambling, shopping and walking massive hotels, a lot of
these men want to cum when the time comes. They're seriously looking for
fun - of the ejaculatory kind.

So, more often than not, you'll get a long string of men beating off at the
urinals some afternoons in the casino men's rooms. Or you get them taking a
cab to the porn theaters where, since they're so horny, they're busting the
zipper of their slacks looking for quick head. Local cocksuckers can drain
anywhere from ten to twenty such men per hour in those places.

But as Stan sized him up, this man didn't seem to need any of that. He was
married and on a convention. He could find any of those places on his
own. And he may be meaning any sort of mainstream titillating fun -
although he also seemed a bit too curious about what a little boy is doing
in a men's room some afternoons...

"What you fancy?", Stan, therefore, asked as he pointed to a chair when
another man stepped up looking for a shine.

"Anything", the man nervously chuckled. "To relieve...some pent
up...tension. You know."

Stan knew that any man who was so straight as to be upright or downright
homophobic would never answer in such a broad manner. The uptight straight
men, whether young single dudes or married cheaters, will almost invariably
tag on, "You know, a chick though - I'm only into chicks, of course."

But this customer, like a million others, hadn't added that
disclaimer. When a man asks such a question, he's willing to bust a nut in
just about anyone.


"Well, if you're out of meetings", Stan offered, "Stop by here after three
or so."

The man grinned some as he replied, "I'll be sure to do that, too."

Then, trying to remain obscure if someone might be listening, Stan simply
said, "Have you been to Ganymede men's fitness center upstairs yet?"

"No, where's that?", the man asked with a smile. "It one of those...you
know, bath house places?"

"Actually, its right here at Hadrians", Stan answered.

"No," the man replied as he furrowed of his brow, as if he feared he came
across as though he was seeking a mud bath rather some other variety of
relief.

But already knowing that, having suggested to hundreds of men before, Stan
gave him a hint of a smile. "They'll set you up real good up there. it's
the best sauna in the entire city. I think there's a fee buy I never had a
man come back to complain..."

And sensing that his shoe shiner had truly understood him, the man nodded
and said, "Well, then, I'll have to try it."

With that, Stan moved to his other customer as he watched the man wander
away and back into the casino.

"Good advice, bud. I was up there earlier", the new customer said. "Hot as
hell."

Stan looked up at the new customer sitting in his chair. He was a hot
looking, exceptionally well built young man, wearing rather expensive
casual clothes and donning equally expensive sunglasses that were propped
up within his thick black slicked back hair. "Yes, I've heard it can be",
Stan replied.

The young man spread his legs a bit, as most customers did, in an attempt
to get more comfortable. And as he did so, Stan could see that this young
man seemed to be hung like a stallion. Even though his genitalia were
contained inside light beige Prada slacks, his family jewels were
wonderfully prominent the way they hung and bulged as he sat.

Stan had seen many a man's crotch and could spot a well hung young man at a
nod. Many of the older men would hang that way but when a man under
twenty-five displayed such hefty wares, you knew he was a exceptionally
well hung.

And for a moment, Stan even wondered if this guy was perhaps one of the
hundreds of male escorts who made the Vegas tourists - most often the
married male Vegas tourists - his clients. But Stan knew most of the young
male prostitutes at least by sight. And he'd never seen this one.

"Yeah, it was a great time", the young man said. "That sauna is rockin'."

"I've heard that", Stan replied with a smile. "So it did the trick for you,
I hope."

"Oh yeaaaahhh", the young man answered. "Hell, me and my buddies were at
Glisteny Patch late last night and its nothing when it comes to...you
know."

Stan knew what the youth was trying to say. The enormous strip clubs were
just that. They never came through for men when the time to cum came
around.

"So it was busy up there?", Stan asked. "I just want to make sure I'm not
handing out out-dated advice", he added with a chuckle.

"Its great advice, pops", the young man replied. He then leaned forward and
nearly whispered, "I had fourteen hands on me at one time in that sauna."

Stan made a whistling sound as he replied, "That's not surprising...seeing
you're...well, you know what I mean."

"Hands everywhere", the young stud answered. "And mouths...but not just on
me...fucking hot up there at what? Like eleven in the morning. Seventy-five
dollars for it, even though I don`t gotta pay that. But definitely worth it
since it keeps the riff raff out."

"Are you from Las Vegas here?", Stan ventured to ask since the young man
looked like he could have been a performing in a show or was perhaps indeed
an escort."

"My parents have a house here, pops", the young stallion admitted. "But we
live in New York mostly." He then leaned forward again and said in a hushed
tone, "My papa is Gianni DiBianchi..."

Stan, although trying to play it cool, nearly froze up upon hearing that
name. He swiped the young man's Prada shoe and actually gulped as he asked,
"The Gianni DiBianchi?"

"Yeah, that's my papa", the young man with a sly smile as he tapped his
free foot some. "I'm Gianni the third, or Lil'Gianni, they call me."

Stan now knew who this young man was - even beyond the fact that his father
owned interest in Hadrian's Palace as well as interest in half a dozen
other casino hotels in both Vegas and Atlantic City.

Lil'Gianni was the guy who...

"Well, its good to meet you", Stan said with a grin as he proceeded to
quickly become ever more careful with the shoes he was polishing.

Lil'Gianni leaned forward again and whispered, "I didn't sit here just for
a spit polish, pops...I heard you got a new kid working here with you. A
real cutie...a real curious little guy."

Even Stan had to think a moment, as he then remembered Mr. Marcione`s
little boy. "Oh, Rudy, you mean."

"Yeah", the stud replied with a nasty grin. "The kid whose mouth you blew a
load into, in fact. The pit boss' kid...", Lil'Gianni said. "He around?"

"No, no, not today", the shoe shine man replied, his face ashen although he
couldn`t be surprised that a DiBianchi would know such a thing. Knowing he
had no choice now but to cooperate fully, Stan nervously offered up, "He
should be here tomorrow maybe."

"Maybe?", the young stud asked sternly.

"Well, you know a kid that age", Stan explained. "Who knows what they'll
do. Maybe his mother doesn't want him coming back. Who knows with a little
fellow."

"Why don't we find out then?", Lil'Gianni replied as he pulled his sleek
cell phone out of its belt holster, He quickly pressed speed dial and spoke
to whomever answered, "Yeah, Louie, get me ...", he then turned to Stan
again as he asked, "What's the name of kid's dad? The pit boss..."

"Marcione", Stan said. "Antonio Marcione...everybody calls him Tony,
though."

Speaking into his cell phone again, Lil'Gianni said, "Louie, is Tony
Marcione working now? No? When then? Shit, that late? ...Okay,
then...listen, Louie. Get me Tony Marcione's home number. Get it now. I'll
wait. Home or cell, I don't give a fuck."

He then looked at Stan as he ordered, "Remember this...okay?"

Stan nodded not even knowing what was being asked of him.

"5...5...5", the young stallion said, he pointed at his shoe shiner,
"1...9...6...9. Good, thanks Louie...and tell your wife she got a good man
and to quit her bitching. Bye."

Lil'Gianni hung up and told Stan to repeat the phone number he'd called out
to him. And as Stan recited back to him phone number, the stud punched the
numbers into his cell phone.

"Thanks, pops", the stud said as he sat forward in his chair, apparently
done with his shoe shine. Hearing someone pick up, he said, "Yeah, hey. Is
this Tony Marcione's house? Yeah, who's this? Yeah, Mrs. Marcione, glad to
tawk to ya. I'm John and I'm with Hadrian's Palace. Is your husband there?
I know he ain't due into work till later tonight. No? Yeah, well, that
sounds good. Yeah, I was out on Lake Mead myself yesterday. Uh, listen,
Mrs. Marcione, maybe you can tell me. We were wondering if your son...",
the young stud then momentarily pressed the mute button as he asked Stan,
"What's the kid's name?"

"Rudy", the older man replied in a whisper.

Speaking into the phone again, Lil'Gianni continued talking to
Mrs. Marcione, "Rudy...we were wondering if your son Rudy was coming back
to work tomorrow? He`s probably still in school no, isn`t he?"

The young stud winked at Stan as he listened to whatever the women was
saying to him on the other end of the line.

"Yeah?", Lil'Gianni said into the phone. "But he wants to come back. He
told you last night, eh? That's real good to hear. He had real fun
yesterday, eh? Glad to hear that, too. He's a little guy, ain't he? ...Just
turned seven, eh? Yeah, well, that's good he wants to come back. So you'll
have him here about three, three-fifteen then. Good, real good. Hey. The
hotel will even be happy to arrange to pick him up after school. Anything
to make life easier on you, Mrs. Marcione...yeah, well, think about
it. Save you a trip. Tell your husband to let us know if you`d like the
hotel to do that."

He then listened some more to Mrs. Marcione before replying, "Oh, he's as
safe as can be, Mrs. Marcione. You gotta know that, with your husband
working here. I'm John...yeah, just tell your husband John White at the
casino called. He'll know."

And with that, Lil'Gianni grinned an evil grin as he hung up. "Your little
assistant will be here after three tomorrow delivery time guaranteed by his
own mother."

As he spoke, he stood up and handed Stan a hundred dollar bill which Stan
refused, "Oh, its free for you, Mr. DiBianchi..."

"Take it, play a machine", the young stud replied, barely looking at the
man. "Or buy your grandkids some candy. Or buy one of them a bib next time
they get a visit from their perverted grappa, eh?" At that, the young man
laughed and gave Stan a playful false punch to the shoulder. "You perv,
you're a good man."

He then walked off barely saying good bye to the older man.

Stan stood there a moment wondering to himself, `Lil'Gianni
DiBianchi...Jesus...sniffing around for Marcione's kid....holy fuck...I
wonder if I should tell Tony Marcione...?" As he thought about what it all
might mean, Stan was both disturbed and oddly turned on. The things he'd
heard about Lil'Gianni and his father, Gianni DiBianchi, Sr.,, almost made
the shoe shine man want to call Mrs. Marcione back and tell her not to
bring their child the next day.

But being the man he was, with his own perverted secret desires, Stan knew
enough to let things play out as they're set up. Hell, who was he to
prevent any man his fun?

And so, seeing yet another man looking for a shine, Stan decided to toss
off the worry as he returned to the job.

`That's Marcione's problem', he thought to himself. `Hell, its his little
boy. Nobody else's. No other man here needs to treat his kid like anything
but what he is. And, hell, Marcione himself brought his kid into the
toilets...he should have known that his kid's fair game to other men the
minute they see where he`s working. Hell, what were they suppose to think
when word about a kid like Rudy buzzes around Vegas' underground network of
men like a flash fire. Let his daddy deal with whatever it was the
DiBianchis wanted from his son.'

Besides, although he felt slightly bad for Rudy, Stan was hoping to shoot
more grandpa milk into the kid's mouth himself the next day. And he sure as
hell knew that another handful of men had come around asking for the
tyke. `Why ruin it for everyone just cuz Lil'Gianni DiBianchi is in the
house?', he thought to himself.








Chapter 7




On the large, cot-like bed laid a small boy flat on his back. He was naked
although he seemed to wear a coating of something very slick, wet and shiny
all over his small body. The child's hair was matted in the stuff.

"Fuuuuuck", the surgeon said to himself as he quickly, nervously, slipped
into Room Two on the Palace Player's Level. The moment the door shut, he
quickly locked it behind him. The fifty-one-year old man stood at the foot
of the sex bed, his erection throbbing even harder inside his trousers.

He could barely regulate his breathing, he was so tense and excited. He'd
never seen such a sight, never been so close to a naked eighteen-month old,
never saw one saturated in what appeared to be semen.

He thought the looming height and presence of another adult man might have
scared him. But as the surgeon watched, the boy giggled and as he giggled,
he gurgled up what was quite obviously more semen.

The surgeon squeezed his own tenter as he swiveled his hips in lust. Here
he was only seconds away from fulfilling that fantasy he's had since his
own now college-aged sons were this little one's age.

But this one here was for everyone's use - just lying there to be done as
men see fit. No identities, no guilt, no bother.

The middle-aged man said hello to the child but the tot didn't reply with
anything but another semen gurgled giggled as he looked straight at the
man's crotch. Then the child's small hands reached out as though, it seemed
to the surgeon, he sought out and wanted more.

And so the man decided to give the child more.

He glanced at his watch and then at the clock on the wall. The wall clock
had two times on its face - actual time and also a timer which counted down
the player's minute points. The surgeon realized that he had only
fifty-five minutes remaining with this little baby slut. And yet he shook
his head as it also occurred to him that he had fifty-five minutes with
such a baby slut. He never ever has an inkling he'd ever be in such a
situation.

But he strode right up to where the child was laying comfortably, and
saturated head to toe in semen - some of it looking quite fresh and
thick. Again, the man noticed that this boy's hair was so matted in semen
that it almost appeared to be glued to his head. That made the man smile in
lust as he found the sight to be both utterly perverse and yet, ironically
sweetly charming.

And the boy smiled back as he, again, reached out toward the man's crotch.

"You want some more?", the surgeon gently asked in a whispered tone as
though he didn't even want to hear himself ask such a small child such a
thing. "You want another one, sweetie?"

As he took another deep breath, the surgeon began to unbuckle his belt
buckle. And as he did, he looked at the thick puddle of semen that
collected around the boy's tiny genitals.

`That's got to be his', the man thought to himself as he breathed in the
semen-scent of the room. He looked at the copious amount of fresh semen as
he said to himself, `It's got to be his...fresh load...its got to be Rusty
Durken's fucking load.'

And that made his cock bounce harder within the confines of his underwear
even as he unzipped is trousers.

As though looking for someone over his shoulder, he glanced around, not
wanting anyone seeing what he was about to do - something he never thought
he'd ever do. Hell, he was a straight, married man with grown sons. Sure
he'd seen a gay blowjob here and there during his lifetime but he's never
had such a thought occur to him ever before.

But that's was MVP Rusty Durken's cum sitting there, puddled all over this
little one. Rusty Durken, the most famous baseball player since Hank
Aaron. He was actually going to be fucking something already full of Rusty
Durken's nut sac load.

And as he stood there, slowly masturbating over the child's head, he had to
wonder how many loads the sports legend shot into this kid. `Too much semen
all over him to be one load', the surgeon said to himself.

He then glanced around and saw no evidence of a used condom. Heck, there
wasn't even anywhere to have tossed a used rubber in the small room.

As he casually allowed the wet, precum oozing corona of his cock to gently
graze along the little one's nose, the baby boy himself reached out and
took a hold of his thick shaft. The surgeon looked down and smiled at the
boy who held his erection. And he whispered, "You like that, don't you? I
bet you like all of them."

He then leaned his body in as to lower himself slowly into the boy's
mouth. It seemed that this little cumslut knew the drill and knew it well.

It was like an electric shock to the man's nuts the moment he felt,
saw...realized that such a young sex slut was suckling on his adult
cock...just one more adult cock in the baby`s busy day. He was taken by the
way the boy ran his tiny fingers along the thick shaft, which his fist
could not ever begin wrap itself around - as if he were stroking it while
he suckled and slurped up the dripping precum from the man's piss slit.

Then the man did something - another something - he never in a million
years ever thought he'd do - ever have the chance to do. He leaned even
further over the tot and licked, hesitantly, upon the whole of the boy's
genitals. He was on the verge of performing fellatio on a small child - he
knew that's where it would lead. And secretly making it easier to
rationalize, he told himself he was only doing it as a way to taste the
reproductive juices of his sports hero, Rusty Durken.

Here it was the first semen other than his own, that the surgeon ever in
his life ever tasted - ever had the desire to taste - and it was that of
his baseball hero. Hell, he'd even bought his one son, when was playing
baseball in his final year of high school, a Rusty Durken poster for his
room. And now here he was poised to eat the baseball star's sperm.

The surgeon licked tentatively at the pitcher's fuck sauce and could taste
its freshness. And he knew that Rusty had to have shot that stuff up out of
his scrotum only minutes earlier.

Knowing that, and loving his first sample of another male's ejaculate, the
surgeon went hog wild on the boy's genitals. He tried to be as gentle as he
could but he licked whole-tonguedly all over the boy's tiny erection and
plump, semen-slicked scrotum.

He felt the boy nursing on him as he lapped and licked between the chubby
thighs, finding and slurping up even more semen. Heck, the vinyl mattress
cover was slick and loaded in semen.

But even the knowledge - that some of the semen covering this child was
obviously that of other men who'd enjoyed this tiny sluts body - only
fueled the surgeons hunger.

As he sucked and licked he thought to himself, `Hell, what's wrong with
me...this is too evil...too delicious...he looked down and saw the his own
hairy scrotum sitting on the boy's forehead as he fed the child yet another
big adult cock.

And as he glanced at the clock again, he saw he only had forty-seven
minutes left to do anything he wanted to this tiny one. He had so many
thoughts and urges. The man figured he had to be capable of taking big cock
if others had been using him all day. And he even figured that it made no
sense to use a rubber. After all, it was abundantly apparent that no one
else had.

And besides, going to a draw and putting one on would waste a minute of
quality time with the little cumpig. And the clock was ticking.

In Room Five, two college dudes in their very early twenties were
double-penetrating an eight-year-old girl. Asking her if she wanted a baby,
as the sign over her cot clearly spelled out, the two young men tag-teamed
her pussy each time they wanted to pump more cum up into her.

"Princess wants to have a baby?", one asked her as he verged on climax. And
the moment that she replied, "Yes, please make a baby in me", it made the
dude lose his load deep inside her pink, puffy pussy. He pulled his big
shaft out of her and his buddy immediately sank his raging boner into her
cum-juicy cunt.

He asked her the same thing, "Can I make a baby in you instead? Maybe my
cum will knock you up". And as she gripped his athletic shoulders she
replied, "Please make a baby in me. Please?" And his buddy, stroking her
sweat saturated hair, said, "That's what he's doing, Princess...we're
trying to help get you knocked up. We understand a lot of other men were in
here today, too, trying to help get you knocked up, baby. Some man will
make one in you... you just keep on letting us all try and it will happen."

Down the corridor, in Room Eight of the Palace Player's Level, the New
Zealand grandpa, known only as Mr. Auckland, already had his very thick,
uncut cock deep up inside a boy who was on his stomach. The boy's torso and
head were barely visible beneath the man who rutted and fucked him as he
laid on top of him. "Grandpa's going to pump more and more seed into you,
little fellow...how you like that?" The boy grunted a sexual assent as he
lifted his small butt higher, as if begging for more cock and sperm to be
fucked into his small frame. The older man's grey curly pubic and chest
hairs tickled the boy but at ten, he was already well use to the feel of
men's bodies.

"You like being a buttwhore, don't you, boy?", Mr. Auckland stated as he
roughly penetrated the lad.

He allowed the boy to answer and the boy mumbled, "I live for cock and
sperm to be shot into me, sir."

"I bet you do...I know you do!", Mr., Auckland nearly grunted. "They told
me how much has been pumped into you just today...you fucking little
whore..."

 And just next door, in Room Ten, a very tall high school basketball coach
from Des Moines, Iowa was sitting with his trousers off in a sex chair as
he watched a four-year-old girl and her twin brother kneeling between his
wide spread legs. He held his eleven inch shaft as to keep it standing up
tall while he let the two simultaneously lick and suck up and down his cock
and hairy scrotum. The man took turns whacking his heavy, long erection
upon the out-stretched tongue of each child. With every tap and thump upon
their small tongues, he watched as his precum flung some into each open
mouth.


TO BE CONTINUED...
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