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Date: Mon, 23 Feb 2004 17:45:20 -0600
From: gloryhole JUNKIE <gloryhole_junkie@hotmail.com>
Subject: "Whoring With Dad Part" Part 9e

Whoring With Dad
Part 9e: "In (Kevy) Like a Choo Choo..."
(or "Little Boys Love Trains")

By: Mr.gloryholeJUNKIE
gloryhole_junkie@hotmail.com


Disclaimer & Warning

So, some among you open this latest chapter and sigh (or is that
"hrrrummph"?) as you look at all the words ("The words, doc! It's the words
that scare me most!"). And its then that (while milking your demanding penis
anyway -- cuz that's what wonderfully perverted guys do) you ask yourself,
"Fuck, can one freakin' piece of queer erotica carry with it any MORE
disclaimers and warnings than does this dang "Whoring With Dad"?!

Whoa! Settle down, my meaty buckaroos! For those not into the preambles,
simply catch your breath (set your $29.99 Suck-O-Matic to its lowest
setting, if need be) and merely scroll down.

Down...
...down...
...down...

...Until you bypass this "Disclaimer & Warning"...bypass the "Preface"...and
jump right to the continuing story!

See? That wasn't so hard!

(Although you can't read this if you actually did scroll down) By scrolling
down, that other text making your brain go, "Ouch, reading lots of words
hurts real bad, man! I just wanna beat off to perving on tots, ghJ!", will
all simply go away.

(POOF!)

Therefore, those of you who are impatient and overly over-enthusiastic to
shoot your cum into a little kid -- even if only in the abstract (your
keyboard hopefully substituting for any open little mouth), please feel free
to scroll down and get on with "Whoring With Dad" if you must. But be warned
- you are a man who may have the tendency to disregard Life's simple
warnings, which, therefore, may be a sign that you'd do something reckless
when in the employ of a KinderKare.

And you give good indication that you'd "do" something irresponsibly
impulsive while playing a monster at your town's annual Halloween House --
you know, while among the other menfolk in town who dress up like big, scary
creatures that jump out at little kids as they make their way through a maze
of rooms. You'd be the sort of guy, the author would imagine, who'd use the
opportunity to feel up every little guy that shivers'n'quakes past your
scare station.

"Mommy? Daddy?"

"Yes, dear?"

"That Haunty House was the funnest thing, mommy... but when I went into the
last room...I think the Werewolf did something bad...he put his hairy hands
down my pants and then felt up Jeremy, Michael, Billy and Todd, too!"

"No, kiddo, you MUST be mistaken...that's just what Werewolves do", dad
pipes up with a lecherous glint in his eye. "Now, quit the stupid talk and
let's go see how wide you can crack open your jaws while apple bobbing!"

Clearly, the molester playing the Werewolf is a guy like those of you who
bypass "Disclaimers & Warnings" - a guy willing to "risk it" without giving
the situation much thought. After all, the only way for that Haunted House
to "work" would be if all the men running it (perhaps NAMBLA) were working
in lecherous cooperation with one another. Then, you'd have every little kid
in the metro area telling the same incredulous story  -- that the
Werewolf...and Dracula...and Frankenstein's monster...and the Mummy...and
the rotting corpse...all felt them up or stuck a big, hairy dick in their
mouths as they passed! Officials would simply chalk it up as the same
childish group hysteria, which prompted the Salem witch trials. And parents,
sensing their boys have all gone "loopy" would instead demand that the
county test the elementary school's drinking water!

So scroll down if you must...but you've been warned (if not disclaimed
even).

Routine disclaimers may be inserted here. Oh, things like:

Be of legal age and in a locale where one will not be scourged in the public
square for reading such material (exhibitionistic S&M leather slaves in the
Castro may disregard this warning).

If you are an adult, never involve yourself in any manner with a
minor...well, you know...sexually. It's okay to take little boys to the
movies, um, so long as you understand, of course, that in no way does that
include sneaking them into the back row of the KittyKat XXX that's currently
showing "Restroom Ron's Cumpig Gloryhole Record-Breaker: Ron Drains 500
Cocks in a Single Afternoon".

Take them instead to "Lord of the Rings" (and don't you dare cut out the
bottom of the popcorn bucket on your lap in an attempt to get them to stroke
your thick adult erection throughout the film, you sneaky perv)!

Also, seek and get the author's written consent before using this story for
any purpose other than your own personal masturbation. That would mean that
if you want to post this to another site, don't.





Preface


(I can hear you guys now: "Oh no! Another Preface, too! I shoulda scrolled
when warned!")



Carnivale is upon us. Its a festive time promising colorful costumes,
dazzling parades and six-foot-tall transies balancing banana headdresses
upon their be-wigged heads.

But, most importantly, it's a time to eat meat.

Hey, wait! When isn't it a time to eat meat?! (Oh, never mind - that's just
your insatiable, cocksucking author talking).

And with Carnivale comes not only gorging on food and drink, but also full
license to immerse oneself in one's lusts and sexual deviancy.

If you're doing it right, that is.

Sure, many local churches will have a rather pathetic "Carnivale" or "Mardi
Gras" fund-raising night in the parish hall. You know, where bottom-heavy
Polish or Italian ladies will serve up monstrous aluminum foil baking dishes
of mostaccioli or pigs-in-a-blanket and call it a "festival". An event where
men will be steered away from the real intent of Carnivale and instead play
Ring Toss all night to the sounds of the school band struggling through "One
Note Samba" for the third time.

But as is often the case, as the men wander off to smoke a cigarette -- or
merely escape all the "fun" -- by heading into the men's room, one
immediately understands what they'd all much rather be doing.

There, the men, some wearing inexpensive, feathered masks, chat about
nothing as they find themselves absent-mindedly stroking their daddy dicks
while at the urinals -- their bodies just "coincidentally" standing in such
a way that makes it easy for the curious little boys looking back at them
through the mirrors at the sinks to see what they're dying to see. In order
to show the little guys what grown men got in their pants, and sensing
everyone is into it, the men begin to slowly wag their dicks at the
sexually-adventuresome tykes and in that moment, one realizes the true
spirit of Mardi Gras thrives in that church hall tearoom!

Yep, if they'd been given a better Mardi Gras "Parade Marshall" than
sixty-something Sister Innocentia, these men would much rather be indulging
in what their loins are not-so-quietly whispering for them to do.

Its in that simple act, while unzipped and feeling "randy" at the urinals
-- feeling bold with kids -- that most dads in that parish hall wish they
were spending the final days before Lent by squeezing big boobs in New
Orleans or getting blowjobs from strangers in Venice or, yeah, by shoving
their daddy boners into any little butthole in Rio.

But only cuz its "Carnivale" time, of course!

In Venice, Carnevale is an elaborate and somewhat intricate festival if done
with any sense of lascivious tradition. And when done "right", under the
veil and centuries-old oath of secrecy, it allows men to sexually do
whatever -- and to whomever -- they like. And what most Carnevale men enjoy
best is hardcore group sex among other men and boys.

Oh, sure, during daylight hours, they make a big show of macho love to their
pretty blonde girlfriends or big-titted wives. But come sunset, something
happens to most men in Italy. Women fade from their carnal desires (quickly)
as their dicks thicken at the sight of masculine crotches as scores of men
openly cruise one another upon cobbled streets. Married men, fathers and,
yes, even shopkeepers (my goodness!) know they'll unzip and ram their dicks
into that most fuckable backside of the very, very young lad they're all
following down a dark, dead-ended canalway.

Call it the "Homo Hours" if you like.

And what better opportunity for the most decadent and depraved sexual
encounters than Carnevale when men run the streets at night, unidentifiable
and inter-changeable beneath dark robes and elaborate masks? It doesn't take
a genius to know the ways in which a great many men have long exploited the
tradition for their own most-perverted pleasures.

For Carnevale is the time when graying, middle-aged men whisper into the ear
of every young teenaged boy they pass (as they hand the kid a mask of
Scapino ...and directions) to meet them under the bridge where at midnight
they'll blow the youth and any of his other horny buddies. And it's during
that week when those same kids, many with just wisps of public hair and
newly capable of producing the stuff that makes babies - excitedly get
together (and thinking it "fun") will actually decided to take the men up on
their offer. Sneaking out of their houses, they meet their buddies, put on
their masks -- and with the courage mustered only as group (and masks) --
will standing under that bridge and feed the lecherously-delighted men
numerous loads of adolescent sperm at midnight.

Its especially at Carnevale time, with its permissions to do whatever one
likes, that men will feel free to do whatever they like to young boys. And
conversely, under the cloak of costume, any young lad, even the littlest of
boys, can get involved in the heavy man sex with occurs in most every dark
nook and cranky of Venice after dark.

In fact, some dads or other lecherous men use the opportunity to get their
little guy all dressed in disguise with the sole intent of sneaking him into
that large huddle of dark-cloaked men wearing phallic-beaked volto masks at
the bottom of a stairwell  - their raging, drooling erections prepared for
anonymous orgy. Sometimes, the men don't even notice who is sucking all of
them -- only discovering it's a six-year-old lad when they go to gangbang
his butt - and find it so tiny and so smooth.

What more clearly demonstrates a man's depraved carnal lusts than the potent
image of him, hidden behind a grandly intimidating mask, his black robes
parted as his hot and rutting loins are serviced by an anonymous tot?

Yet, perhaps because of liquor or their masks or the agreement of Carnevale
to do whatever and to whomever you like and to, afterwards, never, ever
mention what occurs, most men seize the opportunity to live the intention of
the festival to its fullest. For worse than any sexual tryst which may occur
in a gondola moored for repairs in a darkened alcove between two well-built
men and a small boy -- whose parents thought they'd tucked the little guy
into bed hours earlier - is the revelation of revelers' identities. The
sexual acts of many men were (and are) so scandalous and lascivious that,
centuries ago, a "law" was enacted making it punishable to rip away a man's
mask during Carnevale - no matter how lewd and lurid his acts.

And in Brazil, it's even worse (or better, as a reader would have to
determine for himself). For its with "Carnivale" that men even more freely
exploit the thousands of child whores who, like little cockroaches, swarm
the back alleys of Brazil's largest cities.

Even the elderly radio personality, Paul Harvey clearly seemed to pant a bit
as he related the "news-worthy" story of older men by the thousands easily
buying Brazilian children's cumholes for a mere 20-cents a "pop". (Hmm, no
wonder some guys prefer radio - they can read copy with their pants down)!

And in Brazil, the most common prostitutes have long been the throngs of
little boys, aged from infancy to eleven, left orphaned or abandoned to the
streets due to gross poverty. Pockets of major cities swell with tykes,
barely clothed, and most willing to have any man that comes along, ejaculate
into him for, in many cases, literally, a piece of bread. There are so many
thousands of these cumhole-urchins that no person or government can either
aid or hinder their complete exploitation.

Some of you fine readers are now weeping as you reach for your checkbooks
(just be prepared to write one out for, "Six billion and 00/100 dollars",
thankyouverymuch)...while the rest of you gents (I call you that cuz of that
handsome dick throbbing hard in your pants) are now popping over to
expedia.com to check on fares to Aeroporto de Congonhas!

Boy street whores are more than a mere aberration in Brazilian cities. By
most accounts, it's one of the largest industries (that means
"money-makers") which that country "produces". For, added to the "regular
and essential ingredients" that go into cranking out innumerable
street-walking blowjob boys and back alley gangbang tots anywhere - things
such as desolate poverty, ignorance and indifference -- is the age-old
philosophy among most Brazilian men that sex with little kids, especially
boys, is normal and really no big deal. It's this particular component among
many Brazilian men that makes the industry of "kids swallowing cum for less
than a quarter" huge there.

In fact, in most any large Brazilian city, there are few if any laws
pertaining to a man buying a tiny-butthole-for-hire on his way to or from
the office! If a man makes a decent wage there, he can literally buy some
kid's mouth and squirt cum into on his way to work; shoot cum into another
kid's butt while on his espresso break; blow seed all over four more boys
he's given a sandwich to in exchange for servicing his daddycock during his
lunch hour; and still hire yet another little mouth "to feed" after work.
And, hell, he can do all that for just $1.40 a day!

So as Carnivale approaches, and men go even more wild in their lustful
pursuit of all things licentious and depraved, you can imagine the "work"
thrust into the faces of those tykes whose sole existence is to whore
themselves out to men! Days and nights during Carnivale, scores of little
boys service man after man in the labyrinth of dingy, filthy alleyways.

And in New Orleans, during Mardi Gras, when Northern men get drunk and look
around to do anything that's 'right nasty and all carpetbagger-like... there
have been cases where actual pimp dads, after dark, have had their little
sons sit at first-floor open windows down gloomy wrought iron-clad walkways
and perform lurid sexual services throughout the night upon any adult male
who hops upon a box. Most men are so blind drunk as they make the decision
to squirt sperm in the little toddler that most couldn't even point out the
correct alleyway again once they'd made it back to the loud, swirling
festivities on Bourbon Street.

But then Ash Wednesday comes along and men shake their heads reliving all
the bad, bad things they'd done. But as is in keeping with the spirit of
Carnivale, they never dwell too long on anything so silly as pangs of guilt.
After all, no one knew what they'd done and all is forgiven since depravity
is the essence of the celebrations. Wearing a mask of feather or booze, men
are given license those few special days to do whatever they're planning to
give up for Lent. Perhaps many figure, "Hell, I'll give up boy hookers for
Lent...it's just for forty-days after all!"

Hey, men! I think its time we rejoin the conga-line that's forming behind
Kevy's butt at the Lawson Y - where a towel is a man's only costume!



Whoring With Dad
Part 9e: "In (Kevy) Like a Choo Choo..."
(or "Little Boys Love Trains")

By: Mr.gloryholeJUNKIE
gloryhole_junkie@hotmail.com


For a brief moment I felt a little strange being totally naked as we made
our way to the elevator. Other than in the pool downstairs, I had never
before walked around a place totally naked (except for plastic flip-flops,
that is). But just as I wondered if it was really okay to be in such a
state, my concern quickly dissipated as we passed the communal bath and
shower room on our floor.

At the very moment we were coming to the double doors, they opened and two
men, stark naked, exited the bathroom. They, like the other men, gave us the
double take but then just stood there talking to one another. I took the
opportunity to stare at their penises, each soft but long and maned in thick
public hair. How I loved men's penises.

Even at seven, I was entranced by and adored men's physiques and their sex
organs - grown-ups' sex organs. I don't know where that fascination, (call
it a child's lust), came from but from earliest recollection I was "in love"
with men and their bodies.

I even recall a dream I had at age three and a half or four, from which I
awoke in the middle of the night. It was a depraved sexual dream from which
I suddenly found myself wide-awake. At that age, my parents kept my bedroom
door ajar so a shaft of low light from a small lamp in the hallway could
serve as a nightlight. I recall this urgent impulse to jump out of my bed
because I knew, somehow knew, I couldn't "do" what I was compelled to "do"
while in a bed.

I got out of bed and was flooded with this need to strip off my little
pajama bottoms. Totally naked and erect I stood far back enough from my
dresser mirror to see myself fully, although dimly, in it's reflected
surface. I was barely three-feet tall at the time but had this overwhelming
need to feel myself all over in a sexual way as I stood there looking at
myself.

It was my earliest recollection of masturbating. But what was most
interesting about the "event" was what was racing through my pre-schooler's
mind at the time. As though "forced" awake and out of bed by this sexual
"need", as I ran my hands all over my small, smooth body - pulling at my
little penis and caressing my little buttocks - images of numerous adult men
feeling me up played through my mind. There were "hands" and hairy penises
all over me yet it was I who was, somehow, the "sultan" of this harem of
naked and molesting men.

It was almost as if that were the night something came to me - or, perhaps,
even sexually possessed me. As early as three or four, I clearly and utterly
knew what I lusted for. And in that lust, I "knew" or profoundly sensed what
my purpose would be in life.

I did not know at that time that it was more than a mere "dream" I was
having, but was, indeed, a premonition of what was to come. Often,
throughout my life, I have had these premonitions, more than a dream or even
purposeful "creative visualization"  -- but actual premonitions, or psychic
foresight, into things, oftentimes sexual, which will only unfold later.

And so as I walked along with my handsome dad who was holding Tomas, rather
than any fear or shyness, I felt quite comfortable in the company of naked
adult men. That's not to say I had no social sense or hesitancy in
performing sexual acts with men when I knew it would be an inappropriate
moment. For I always respected the fact that most adult men preferred some
curtain of secrecy when engaging in sex with me.

I knew, for example, never to be sexual around men whenever a woman may be
present. I first came to sense that "rule" when we'd be at places where
women - moms -- might be around. Men were so different with me in their
presence - until we'd find ourselves in a men's room or alone. It was never
anything that was quite articulated by any particular man. It was just
through observation and my innate sensibilities that made me understand
completely that most grown up men did things with me only when or once a
woman "disappeared" from the scene. And these same men, once zipped up
again, would almost as a rule then "pretend" nothing had occurred the moment
a wife or mom returned.

And so, although I stared at the penises of these two men in the corridor, I
still knew it would be too risky to do what I was so longing to do with them
in from of my dad. Despite my feeling his erection that night as he slept, I
still feared he'd get mad at me for the stuff I let men to me.  But greater
than a fear of his wrath, I feared his wrath would cut me off from the
bodies of anonymous grown-up playmates!

Even as a little kid, I had a developed sensibility about the "beauties" of
fully grown men. I adored their muscles and hairy chests. I lusted for their
large, hairy scrotums and big cocks. I loved the way their whiskers felt
when they'd suck my hairless penis or the way their pubic hairs scratched by
smooth butt as they thrust their penises up my butthole. It may sound funny,
but I was one of those little kids who loved a touch of gray at a man's
temples. Heck, I even rather adored balding men when I was a tyke. Perhaps
that was because, unlike other boys my age who never experienced balding men
sexually, I came to realize the immense power of their testosterone-driven
perversions!

And of course it was only big boys and men who could feed me the daddymilk
to which I was now addicted.

If anything at that age, I never quite understood why big, strapping adult
men wanted to have sex with me. After all, even I wasn't interested in the
bodies of my school pals. I mean, I'd look at their penises at the school
urinals and in gym class and think, "Hmm, they'll be cool when they get to
be teenagers and have pubic hair around them."

In fact, when I was seven, I was not terribly interested in sexual things
with anyone until they were at least teenagers. I'd love to look at the
penises of big boys in high school who'd be pissing at the urinals at the
mall. Or I'd follow around, like a puppy, the college aged boys strutting
their wares at Oak Street beach, entranced by their big bulges, biceps and
underarm hair! My young eyes would follow that line of public hair on the
boys' lower abdomens...and want to get into their swimsuits!

Still though, when even younger than seven, when I'd go to the beach with my
mom and dad, I was far more taken with my dad's handsome physique and those
of the various men who'd be coming out of the water. I'd sit there
purposefully close to the surf with my little pail and shovel in order to
see adult men, their trunks all soaked and showing hefty, swing meat as
they'd exit the water. I was pretending to play in the sand but actually I
was learning all about men's bodies - the way they were built and their wide
variations.

And now here I was in a big building, surrounded by full-grown men! We
passed the two naked men in the hallway and soon my dad was pressing for the
elevator.

"We'll drop Tomas off with Sid and then have some fun ourselves", dad said.

The elevator doors opened and we got inside with three other men, one of
whom was naked like myself. His towel was over his shoulder and I made sure
to stand right next to him so my face was nearly level with his belly
button. I followed his hairy, flat abdomen down and looked directly at his
penis which was long and had all that skin some men sported. I liked men's
foreskin a lot because it was fun to chew and and taste precum on it when a
man would put his penis at my lips.

As we rode down, I looked up and the man very sternly looked down at me. He
was almost a little scary the way his steely eyes stared at me.

Another of the men tried to make light conversation in the elevator car.
"Didn't realize they'd turned this into a Holiday Inn", he said in a chipper
voice.

My dad just laughed as we all stared ahead at the doors and then replied,
"Well, its just for the night."

The man quickly replied with a smile, "Hey, no complaints here. I have two
boys of my own so I understand."

The third man, about my dad's age and wearing a dark blue Speedo,
enigmatically said, "Well, a boy can do a lot here that he can't at a
Holiday Inn."

The men - other than the stern naked man - all chuckled just as the doors
parted and a waft of damp, chlorinated air permeated my nostrils.

"Second level...pool, steamroom, saunas, anatomy class...", the first man
jested as he held the doors open.

As the three men went to the left, my dad turned right and led the way to
the vast locker room. I padded along side of him as we passed two or three
other men at their lockers in various states of undress. For only a moment,
I caught a glimpse of a muscular tower of man with the most incredible body
just as he pulled down his white undershorts and let his fat cock flop out.
I wanted to stop at that aisle of lockers but my dad was intent on getting
Tomas to the towel room.

There, within the locker room, was a dutch door, its upper part open like a
window. A sign above it said, "TOWELS". I couldn't see over the door without
stretching on my toes. Beyond was a big room of racks and racks of white
towels. Dotting the aisles were large laundry carts on wheels, most of them
at this early hour, empty. In the back, one could hear the whirling noises
of what sounded like washing machines.

Dad tapped the bell that sat on the ledge of the lower dutch door.

>From a small office off to one side inside the towel room, appeared a thin,
non-descript looking man in his mid-forties wearing a white T-shirt, white
slacks and a black leather belt.

He saw us and smiled big. "Heyyyy you brought 'im!", he said with some
measure of glee. "Didn't know if you'd really do it or not."

Dad stood there and handed Tomas over to the man, who grabbed him like a man
not wanting anyone to snatch his sack of potatoes away. "Yeahhhh, look at
this little guy!  Holy shit, you weren't kidding!"

Dad then handed the few items for Tomas through the open window. "And this
seemed to work out", dad said handing Sid the homemade baby bottle. "Got him
to drink a little milk out of it, at least."

Sid grinned big as he took the obscene bottle from my dad. "Thought it would
work...", he then stopped as though he were about to say too much. "And this
is your little champ, eh?", he continued as he looked down at where I stood.
"I heard all about you."

"Really?", I asked softly.

"Yeah, from some of the guys the last time you were here.", he explained.
"They had a real good time that day you were here."

I beamed inside happy to know I made so many men happy.

"You taking the kid into the pool again?", Sid then asked as he turned his
attentions back to my dad.

"Yeah, I think we'll swim", dad said. "'Might be a couple of hours, if
that's okay. We don't want to hold you up any."

"Shit, my man", Sid said as he looked at Tomas and lightly bounced him in
his basket. "You can leave this with me all day...wooohooo!"

"Well, as long as you really don't mind", dad said.

"Tell you what", the towel attendant said. "I even promise not to toss him
in with the wash when we play!", he laughed as he winked at me.

Sid walked away for a moment and placed Tomas' Moses basket down in the
small office. He pulled the baby from it and let Tomas crawl around the
linoleum-tiled floor in there as he closed the office door.  Sid then
returned to the dutch doors and said, "I promise he'll be in one piece when
you get done...but that's all I promise", the man joked lewdly.

A buzzer on one of the washing machines then buzzed and Sid said he had to
go. He stepped away and disappeared to somewhere in the far back of the
large towel room.

Dad shrugged and smiled. "Well, thank God for Sid", he said as he took me by
the hand. "Now we can make sure you have a fun morning!"

I smiled big as a sudden resurgence of excitement returned to me. I love
swimming although I was just learning. And what I loved even more was the
fact there were men there to help me learn.

Dad and I walked to the swimming pool, the humidity and bleachy aroma
becoming stronger as we neared.

It was still early, just about eight in the morning, so there were many
businessmen at the pool doing their laps before heading to their offices. I
stood at the deep end with my dad as we assessed the situation. Suddenly, a
man in his fifties, with a hairy chest and thick penis dripping with water,
walked up to us and smiled. "Lap swimming only for the next half hour, I'm
afraid", he said to my dad and me.

"We'll have to wait", dad said simply as he anticipated my disappointment.

"What is your name, my fine small friend?", the handsome, white haired man
asked me.

"Kevin", I said. "And this is my daddy."

"Well, good to make your acquaintance, Kevin", the man said. "You're just
what this place needed this chilly morning. My name is Douglas and I sell
commodities. What do you do for a living?"

I giggled since it was such a silly thing to ask a seven-year-old. "I go to
school...that's what kids my age do!", I said.

"Oh, my! A scholar!", Douglas said with great awe. The man lightly gripped
my left bicep and added, "And an athlete, too, I see."

"No", I blushed. "My daddy's an athlete though, like...for real", I said.
"He's like an Olympic swimmer."

Douglas looked at me and said, "Oh, I can see that, too. You're a chip off
the old block I can see that!"

"Though Kevin's getting there though", dad replied. "He's taking to the
water like a natural." Dad stared at the men doing vigorous laps; his gaze
betraying the fact he wanted to dive in.

"Why don't you go in, dad?", I offered quietly. "You can go in because you
can do laps like that and I can't. I can wait."

"No, no", dad said as he continued to look at the water being cut through by
three men going back and forth. "This is your treat -- this overnighter."

"Oh, do go in", Douglas said as he looked at me. "I'll keep an watchfuleye
out for Master Kevin if that's your concern."

"Well", dad hesitated. "If you really don't mind, I could stand to burn off
some stress. There's been a lot of running around this morning."

"No trouble whatsoever!", Douglas said with a happy smile. "In fact, I was
just about to head to the steamroom for a while. Perhaps Kevin can join me
there while you get in your exercise?"

Dad thanked the man and said that anything Douglas wanted to do would be
fine with him. "You go with Douglas", dad said to me. "You'll like the
steamroom, I think."

I had never been in a steamroom so didn't know what to expect. It did sound
rather oppressive though as I only had images of our maid standing over a
steam iron as she pressed my mother's dresses racing through my head.

Dad then slowly pulled off the towel which was wrapped around his waist. And
all at once one could literally sense a dozen pair of eyes dart to his
large, handsome genitalia.

"Now I can see where our little scholar inherited what he's got", Douglas
said as he looked at my dad's body. "A fine mind and fine body should be the
pursuit of all young men."

Dad thanked the man and waved at me briefly as he dove into the pool to join
in the lap swimming.

"And you're now coming with me, Kevin", Douglas instructed as he took my
hand and led me away from the pool. As we left, I saw two other men, who
noticed our departure, had gathered their towels and gave my father a
cautious look before following us out.

"So you have never been in a steamroom before, Kevin?", Douglas asked me as
he lead me down a tiled hallway. "That surprises me from some of the things
I think I have heard about you."

"What do you mean?", I asked.

"Oh, I know things...there are little birdies all around here at the
Lawson", the white-haired man said as he squeezed my small hand.

I didn't understand what Douglas meant but was so excited to be taken away
somewhere by this naked stranger with a big penis.

We came to a corridor lined with two saunas and another, larger room with a
glass window.  We stopped and Douglas had me look in through the window. I
couldn't see a thing. It was as if it were a pane of thick milk glass or had
been painted white. I stared hard into the room but still could see nothing
through what I surmised was steam.

"See? Here they make the steam so heavy and thick that nobody can see
anything that goes on inside", Douglas said with some measure of glee. "You
might bump into someone inside and never even be able to see him! So be
ready!"

At once I thought that was both a scary and exhilarating thought. It would
be like getting lost in one of the bunny-shaped clouds in the sky but with
naked men within it.

Douglas never let go of my hand as we peered through the window. He was
stalling as he apparently spotted the two others from the pool who quickly
approached. Without even acknowledging us, the two men placed their towels
on a row of hooks outside the steamroom door. As they did so, I counted
another five towels hung there also.

The two men, both dark haired with hairy chests and maybe a bit younger than
my daddy, opened the door, letting a billowing cloud of steam escape as they
slipped into the steamroom.

"Wow!", I said all impressed with the visuals.

Douglas chuckled as he was apparently taken with my sweet naivete. "And lots
more fun inside...", he said as he led me by the hand into the vast,
steam-filled room.

Immediately upon entering, I felt like a limp noodle. In an instant, I was
drenched and felt all warm and relaxed. I also felt something of a ghost
since the steam was so chalky white and dense as to obscure my own arms from
my sight. One barely had but a few inches of visibility in this wondrous
room; it was as though I were suddenly disembodied.

Knowing I would be "lost" otherwise, Douglas maintained a firm grasp of my
little hand as he led me deeper into the humid chamber. As we inched along,
I felt a strange hand, from somewhere, graze gently across my tiny buttocks.
Perhaps it was just a thing in the room I had brushed past. But as it felt
me again, I knew for certain it was someone's hand - a large hand that ever
so gently cupped my entire butt in its hand.

But soon the hand lost its hold when Douglas led me further along. As we
cautiously figured out a path, I felt another, different set of hands very
gingerly grab me at my waist. Since I knew it was only adult men in the
steamroom, I didn't make a sound. I didn't want to scare off the molesting
hands! This was too much fun.

The hands ran along my waist and down my front to where they began to gently
play with my penis and hairless scrotum. It felt so wonderful that I thought
I would collapse!

We stood still like that for a moment as I assumed that Douglas was trying
to find a place to go. And as we stood in place, the set of large hands on
me took their fullest liberties as they more aggressively milked and fondled
my childish genitals.  As I stayed still, my hand in Douglas', yet another
hand found my left inner thigh and began its exploration in the fog. That
third hand met the two other hands on my penis and together they masturbated
me luridly although very tenderly.

This third hand then slipped around to my butt where I could feel its thick
fingers prodding in their attempt to pry apart my small buttcheeks. I spread
my legs only slightly, allowing the unseen man's fingers to do whatever they
like to me.

And at that moment, Douglas let go of my hand. I was cut loose in the fog
yet I could sense his tall frame had turned and squatted before me. And in
the next second, I felt his hot, wet mouth engulf my erect penis and scrotum
in one gulp. It felt as though I'd entered a sucking cavern as the
white-haired man nursed on my youngster's boner in a lovingly, though quite
voraciously way.

Although "disembodied", every physical sensation allowed a little boy was
overwhelmingly heightened. No one uttered a word as I stood there with three
"invisible" men doing what they wanted with my body, each performing obscene
acts on me - their identities obscured within this steamy veil.

As I spontaneously reached out, mostly to retain my balance in the
disorienting steam, immediately, two other men gripped me at my wrists as to
guide my hands to their moist, steamy genitals. I don't know whose penises
my little fists were milking, and barely cared. I was more taken with the
rough, stubbly chin parting my buttcheeks as an anonymous tongue began to
lick and lap at my pink, seven-year-old rosebud.


To be continued...
gloryhole_junkie@hotmail.com
