This story contains graphic depiction of man-boy sex. If you find it offensive, why the heck are you here? I mean, you wander into this site expecting to find literature on Bible verses or something?? Man, if you're that dumb, just go away!
The characters are not my property. Dennis the Menace and all characters from the comic strip are copyright and trademarks of King Features Syndicate and caretoonist Hank Ketcham. This story is an unauthorized satire of his work.
"Good Morrrrning Mr. Wilson!!!!" Dennis shouted. He put his skateboard on the front walk and wandered into the Wilson household. Mrs. Wilson was away, and Dennis was going to get five crisp new dollars for waking Mr. Wilson up, and making sure he worked on his novel.
It's not that he needed a nurse or anything, not yet anyways, but he was getting a litte... forgetful in his old age, abnd his "Nerve Tonic" wasn't helping any.
He glanced at himself in the floor Mrs. Wilson kept so consistently shiny, admiring his proud freckles, his trademark cowlick of blonde hair, his fine round dungeree-covered buttocks. He felt a little strange admiring his own behind, but traced his hand along its denim-covered outline all the same... did Margaret find him sexy?... he caught himself stealing covert thoughts as to whether Joey did either... his light, boyish touch made his ass tingle. It sent pleasurable shockwaves up his spine, and made something lewd, vulgar, and wholly enjoyable stir beneath his zipper.
Sighing happilly, he stepped into the Wilson's room. He sighed again on seeing Mr. Wilson still in bed, clad in his striped pajamas, wrapped half in his covers.
He walked up to the bed, prodding Mr. Wilson with his hand. "Good Moooorning Mr. Wilson!"
Mr. Wilson snorted in his sleep and muttered; "M, mornin' hunny, whydonya get back inna bed... itsh shaturday and we gots all day... mmmm..."
Nonplused by the sleepy request, Dennis kicked off his shoes and slipped under the covers with his neighbor. He was immediately surprised as Mr. Wilson's hand slid up his thighs to cup the firm young buttocks he had formerly been admiring.
Mr. Wilson purred in his sleep, tickling Dennis's ear with his moustache; "OOoo yesh Martha, you gots the finest little buns. Can daddy put hish hot dog in em?"
"W-wait Mr. Wilson" Dennis said; "Mrs. Wilson's away, remember? I'm not her! Wake up!"
"Oooh Martha... yesh, come to daddy for shum snugglebunnies..." Mr. Wilson said, sleepilly stripping Dennis's dungeree straps.
"Wait, Mr, Wilson! Put on your glasses and wake up! I'm Dennis! Not Mrs. Wilson!"
Mr. Wilson's rough hand ran over the boy's chest while his dentureless gums chewed on his ears. "Ooo, I love dese little games, s'pecially the ones 'n you pretend to be Dennis..."
"No Mr. Wilson! I AM DENNIS!!! Please, you're making me feel all FUNNY!"
He slid his hand down Dennis's boyish chest, slowly grinding his hand into the boy's wedding package. "Ooo, Martha, you even shlipped on the two-way... but honey dis one's smaller than the usual one, isn't it?"
"Mr. Wilson! Please!!! I feel funny ALL OVER!"
The older man slowly stripped down the boy's overalls, pulling down his starched white underpants, fondling his firm, ripe butt cheeks...
"Mr. Wilson!!!! OooOOoOOoooo SO FUNNY! Oooo, what are you doing, what is tha--"
But the boy did not get a chance to finish. The wrinkly head of Mr. Wilson's hardening man meat was aready pressing insistently into Dennis's ripe boypussy.
"Erm yesh Martha, yer little coony is sho nice and tight in the morning, shweet plums..."
"Oooo... so... wonderfully... funny..." Dennis managed between thrusts. Soon he was in a euphoric land of ecstacy, brought on by the morning act of boy-man lust. If his prudish upper class parents could only see, if Margaret could only watch, if Mr. Wilson could only be aware that Dennis was giving his first-class boy pussy virginity to him...
He'd heard the older kids in school talking many times about "giving head", about how good it felt when the older girls "gave" it to them. He decided, for Mr. Wilson, he wanted to try.
"Hold on, Mr. Wilson" He said, slowly sliding the cock out of his beet-red asshole.
"Oo, Martha... mmmm..." The half-asleep Mr. Wilson muttered as Dennis cupped and fondled the older man's low-hanging, grey-haired balls. He sighed as he kissed them lovingly, rolling his tongue along the fleshy marbles, savoring their musty, salty taste.
He looked over the cock itself. Though it was bigger than his own, it looked a little shriveled, and the skin covering the "boner" or "stiffy", as the kids in school called it, seemed to have the consistency and coloration of a bannana that was perhaps a week past its ripeness. The tip was rubbery, like an old eraser, and a bit gnarled.
He sniffed tentatively at the tip, picking up the strong whiff of his own shit on it. "Oooo yes Marthhhaaaaa, don't teashe meeee...."
Reluctantly, he scooped the wad of poop off with his finger, plugging his nose and forcing it down his throat quickly, cleaning off the rest of the head as fast as he could. "Yesss Martha" Mr. Wilson cooed; "I love it when you lick yer own juices... oh yeah, dumplin' pie..."
He sniffed again. This time it was not so bad. It smelled sweaty, and musty, and a salty bead was forming at the head as he stroked the leathery shaft. Slowly, he licked the bead away, swirling his boy tongue around the head.
Mr. Wilson was not so patient a teacher, however, and quickly shoved the entire length of his rod down Denniss's throat. "MMmm yesh, you know jusht how to take it bi-atch."
With that, the older man worked himself into a hot, huffing frenzy, pounding Denniss's throat like he was mining for oil. "Ooooo! Martha! I'm going to... I'm going to..."
Dennis didn't have much sexual experience, but he could guess what was coming next, and he cringed. The rubbery cockhead, still in his mouth, vomited load after load of hot, stinky cream into his mouth.
"Mmmmm... you wash wonderful, puddincakes..." Sighed Mr. Wison; "Don't get up I'll get'y a towlll...." and with that he fell back into a snoring slumber.
Dennis got up, got dressed, and stole out the door with a broad smile on his face. He had not only had his eyes opened to a new facet of suburban life, he had also found a new way to make money. If Mrs. Wilson was willing to pay him $5 just to wake Mr. Wilson up, who knew how much Mr. Wilson would be willing to pay him to perform more of the wonderful art he had just learned.
He went off on his skateboard. The roar of its wheels on the sunlit sidewalk seemed almost silent against the chorus of the morning birds. He smiled. He was off to teach Joey a new game.
The End?... If you want to see more, please mail me, Freaky Brad, at cutie113@hotmail.com