Title: My Little Rotten Egg
Author: Shadey Grey
Story Codes: Mb, b(5), pedo, ped, preteen, cons, mast, rim, incest
Synopsis: A loving father's son runs to his dad's side, furious
that his older brothers keep calling him a "rotten egg". Instead
of disciplining his elder sons, Dad decides to investigate
whether or not the boys are telling the truth about him.

You can find more of my stories here:
/files/Authors/Shadey_Grey

Drop me an email and tell me what you think:
shadeygrey0@gmail.com


	“Daddy!”
	The whining cry of a running little boy broke the serenity of
the forested get-away, overwhelming the sounds of birds chirping
and distant laughter down at the lake shore. With Jenna in the
camp house doing laundry and all three boys supposed to be
swimming just past the wall of trees down the path, Dad was
supposed to be getting some peace and quiet. No such luck.
	Rousing himself from his half-slumber, my eyes met the image of
their island camp escape. A small island covered in oak trees.
The path ahead led to one of the two docks and the camp fire
area. Behind him, the old, wooden house stood testament to fine
construction, but poor paint. The air was fresh, the shade and
breeze making the temperature perfect. The old water pump by my
recliner reminded my of just how long this place had existed,
though the house had running water now. Back behind the house was
the heaviest grouping of trees with a little path running through
it, off towards the second dock and where the geese liked to lay
their eggs. The place was paradise.
	Up the idyllic path stormed a bare-footed five year old by,
leaving a trail of lake water and hissy fit in his wake. The
grumpy brunette boy marched up to his father, pouting face on at
maximum. With two clenched fists, a heaving chest, and a furrowed
brow, he nearly shouted my honor-bound title again in front of
me, taking me aback a bit. “Daddy!”
	“What?!” I asked, trying hard not to be amused.
	“Jordan and Matt are being mean! They made it a race to the
water. But I wasn't ready. They keep calling me a rotten egg and
pushing me.” As far as little Jacob was concerned, we were at DEF
CON 1. Life could not get much worse than being a rotten egg.
	Suppressing a smile, I said the only thing I could think of.
“Well, do you smell like a rotten egg?”
	“No! I'm not a rotten egg!” he shouted at me. Jacob stomped his
foot on the concrete patio. His blue swim trunks clung
desperately to his little frame, refusing to go along with the
boy's dramatic flourishes.
	“Were you the last one in the lake?”
	“Yes, but they tricked me.” Jake held his ground, but his
resolve was weakening to a superior logic.
	“Then you might just be a rotten egg, little buddy.”
	“No!”
	“Yes?”
	“No!”
	“Maybe?”
	“No!”
	With an attitude like that, probably was more like it. “Well, I
guess we are going to have to double check.”
	“Huh?”
	“Get over here, buddy.” I leaned forward before Jake could pull
away and dragged the writhing little boy up and into the chair
with me. Though he struggled to get away, he was already
giggling. As soon as his rear hit my pants, I wished I had found
a towel, but paid it no mind. Too late now.
	Hugging my youngest close, I drew him up so my lips were at his
ear. “We gotta see if you are a rotten egg. Do you know how to
know if an egg is rotten?” I tickled his sides a little to keep
him off balance.
	“No...” he managed, laughing too much to be able to think.
	I snagged one of his arms and pulled it up, giving it a good
strong snort. “Doesn't smell here...” I said, throwing his arm
down, then dipping him into a laying position on my lap and
sniffing his neck. “Not here either.” Jake was uproarious at
this, so I happily stuck my nose right between his open lips.
“Funny breath, but not rotten egg yet!”
	As we played, I kept one hand firmly on his stomach, a finger
playing in his belly button. As the boy squirmed in my lap, it
would be easy for him to throw himself to the ground. So I made a
safety belt for him as I went.
	Leaving his head dangling off my lap, I grabbed one of his feet.
“Oh! This is smelly!” I declared. “Maybe you are a rotten egg
after all!”
	“I am not!” he shouted through heaving in air.
	Rolling my little Jake around like a rag doll, I put him on his
stomach and sniffed around his legs like a dog, tickling him as I
went. I pressed my face on him, savoring the softness of his legs
as I went, He smelled of nature all over, of fresh grass and lake
breeze. He was driving me a little nuts in ways I had forgotten
about.
	My searching nose found its way up his skinny thigh to the hem
of his swimsuit, still tightly clinging to his leg. Without
hesitation, I peeled it open and stuck my head in. Ahead of me,
my eyes found the white, clammy skin that never much saw the
light of day. My eyes roamed over the back of his leg, and the
plush  cheeks with their own little dimples. Letting out a
thunderous snort, I pushed my face against the junction of thigh
and buttocks.
	Jake was reaching back, trying to push my face away, crying out
through laughter. But he was splayed across my legs down the
lounge chair, unable to do much but wiggle. Before he could get
anywhere, I pulled my head back out with a surprised, cartoonish
expression on. “Ah hah! Maybe you are a rotten egg. Smells funny
down here for sure!”
	“Daddy! That's my bottom!” he squealed.
	“If an egg is rotten, then that's where it will be smelliest!” I
said. “Better get to the bottom of this!” I was awfully proud of
the pun at the time.
	My hands jumped onto Jake's sides, tickling him senseless before
grabbing hold of his swim trunks and yanking them down quickly.
Sunlight practically shone off of his perfect rump, the skin even
whiter than the rest of him. Without hesitating, I grabbed my
half-naked five year old son by the hips and buried my nose
between his sweet little cheeks. I wiggled in until I could feel
the tip of my nose touching his rosebud. After swimming in the
lake, it was no surprise that it didn't smell like anything but
lake water. I snorted and blew air across his tender entrance,
making him wiggle and squirm and gasp. He was still laughing, but
not as hard.
	I slipped out. “Kinda smells like rotten egg in here, buddy. One
last test though. You always know a rotten egg when you taste
it!” And I dove back in, tongue first.
	Jake's laughter turned quickly into whimpers. His thrashing
changed to gentle wiggles. His every movement was in response to
my tongue pressing into his ass, ever so carefully digging into
the tight, yet pliable center. The other half of his body seemed
frozen, uncertain of what was going on. But, undoubtedly,
something nice. “Da...Daddy...?” he tried to make out.
	My response was to lick harder, tongue him more. Something gave
inside him and his anus let my tongue in. Shaking with strange
stimulation, I felt my boy's ring accept me. I started thrusting
my tongue in and out, making his muscles start to give in
completely to my advances.
	With one arm, I held my little boy's ass in the air. With the
other, I snaked around between his legs. Just an inch long,
Jake's little cocklet was as stiff as a boy his age could be.
Taking it between two fingers, I started tugging away at it. That
began to drive my tyke wild. He alternated between pushing his
ass into my face and trying to fuck my fingers. His skinny hips
couldn't decide which way to go. And I received no more
complaints.
	My boy's face was pressed into my crotch out of fatigue and
overstimulation, but the sensation of his cheek stroking my
cock-- even through my pants-- encouraged me on. I sealed my lips
around the ass before me and tongue fucked my son without rhyme
or reason, without any explanation of what he was experiencing.
All Jake knew was the sensations, the glow of slick warmth inside
him and the tense waves coming from the high-speed massage across
his immature head and shaft. In my hands, my boy devolved into a
state of euphoria, becoming a pile of gangly, hairless limbs
draping down onto the lounge chair.
	I picked up the speed, tugging on his cocklet with gusto and
pushing my tongue into him as far as it would go. Cries of
uncertain, dazed pleasure rolled from Jake's gasping mouth.
Pressing, squeezing, and pushing, I assaulted him with all I had.
A vibration began to take over his whole body, starting at his
ass and spreading all over. Even the inch or so of boy cock
flexed and twitched in my fingers, desperately trying to release
something that would not come for some time.
	It came upon him like a wave. His back arched, his thighs
tensed, and he let out a squeal of shock. Hips bucking
uncontrollably, my son came in my arms, with a part of me inside
him. I barely managed to keep my mouth locked onto his ass, even
struggled to keep hold of his pulsing baby erection. But, in a
matter of seconds, the sensations subsided. All of the muscles in
his skinny little body relaxed. His gasps and moans turned into
panting and then to shallow breaths. As soon as it was there, it
was over.
	My tongue slipped gently from his surprisingly lax anus. Below,
his cock had gone soft in my hand and retracted into his belly,
leaving nothing but a red helmet to the crisp air. It wasn't
until I let his hips finally rest against my chest that I felt
the soreness in my arm from holding him up like that. And it
wasn't until I glanced down to his face that I saw he had fallen
asleep.
	“Well,” I said quietly, stroking the two porcelain white globes
before me, “tastes fine to me.” Back down at the lake, I heard
the voices of my other two sons climbing out and getting dried
off. So, I pulled Jake's little water shorts back up and smiled.
“Nope. Nothing rotten here.”