Date: Sun, 16 Dec 2001 10:53:20 -0800 (PST)
From: Balthazaro <balthazaro@yahoo.com>
Subject: Italian Family, Part IV

This work is copyrighted by its author.  It may not be
used without his express permission.  Private
individuals are given permission to have one (1)
electronic and/or one (1) printed copy of this story.
Nifty is given permission to archive this work.

If stories about homosexual acts offend you, please
don't read it... I hate to cause conniptions.  *grin*
If you like it (or don't like it) please let me know
at balthazaro@yahoo.com.

------------
When I was a boy, no older than my son Steve is now, I
had a dream that has stayed with me my whole life.  I
was standing on top of a mountain at the edge of a
cliff, and the Moon was shining overhead.  There was a
fog or cloud over everything in sight, and only the
mountaintop was high enough to let me see the sky with
its sprinkling of stars.  I looked up and felt like I
could see to the ends of the universe.

I saw something moving, and when I looked at the Moon
it was changing.  The face of the full Moon shimmered
and stretched, and turned into an angel carrying a
large cup in her hands.  She poured the silver liquid
in the cup over the edge of the cliff, and said
"Look." to me.  When I looked outward again from my
vantage point, I could see that there was a huge plain
below the mountain filled with clockwork, massive
gears whirling and turning.  Everywhere I looked, I
could see the gears interlocking and spinning, with
smaller gears on them turning at different rates, and
so on down to the limits of my vision.  It was amazing
and kind of scary at the same time; it was so much
bigger than I was I didn't know what to think.

The angel turned to look at me and said solemnly "All
must seek their place."  It then jumped off the
cliff's edge.  I expected it to spread its wings and
fly away, but it fell straight into the machine.  As
soon as it reached the surface of the topmost wheel,
the angel became a small silver gear, revolving in
harmony with the others.  I knew I was supposed to do
the same, and I remember that all my fear suddenly
left me.  I ran and jumped off the cliff to find my
place... and was ground into a bloody pulp by the
turning wheels.  I woke up screaming.

Three months ago, I had seen my son jacking off in his
room.  A little under two months ago, I had sucked his
cock in a mall bathroom and been sucked by him in
return, though he didn't know who I was.  Ever since
that day, I had felt like I was being ground by the
gears of the machine in my dream... no matter where I
went or what I did, I saw my son's enormous prick
hanging in front of me.  I could hardly sleep at
night, food had no taste, and I went through work like
an automaton.  My obsession with my son had grown to
encompass the limits of my world.  I started running
more and more, not only jogging in the morning but
running, as fast as I could.  I would come home in the
evenings and go out again, running miles and miles,
trying to escape from the images of my son's enormous
cock that haunted my every waking moment.

At night, I would toss and turn in bed next to my
wife, and I knew that she was beginning to be afraid
for me.  We rarely spoke anymore; I was too wrapped up
in my own spiritual crisis.  I knew it was wrong to
want my son; at least, that's what I had been taught.
I had been fine so long as I had thought that Steve
was straight; I had never been one to pine for the
unattainable.  I had denied my own attraction to men
for a long time, long enough to end up saddled with a
wife I didn't really love and a sixteen-year-old son I
loved too much (at least lately).  My daughter Maddy
was the product of one of the rare sexual encounters
between Carla and I seven years ago; since then, we
hadn't done it at all. Carla was an extremely
religious Catholic, so a divorce was out of the
question for her; I didn't even know if a divorce
would help me.  She and I had gotten married because
she was pregnant with Steve, and we were both young
and stupid.  I was only thirty-three and I already
felt like an old man, weighed down by my troubles.

Since Steve had come back from my brother Tony's
house, he had been strangely withdrawn from everyone.
He never said much to anyone, barely ate anything at
meals, stayed in his room all the time.  I didn't know
what was going on; his seeming withdrawn could have
been an illusion produced by my obsessive lust for
him, for all I knew.  As for his not eating and
staying away from the rest of the family, I could
hardly say anything about that after running all
morning and all afternoon on into the night.  Carla
commented once that he seemed weird to her as well,
but she was constantly complaining about his behavior.
 She didn't understand that the behavior she expected
was practically impossible for a teenager in the 90's
- in some ways, she was positively Victorian, despite
the fact that she was only 32.

I was afraid to go and try to talk to him, for fear of
what I might give away.  I didn't trust myself where
he was concerned; no matter what might be wrong with
him, he didn't need more problems.  As obsessed as I
was with Steve (or more accurately, Steve's body), I
was still under no illusions that having his father
hit on him would be anything other than traumatic.  I
couldn't walk by his room without listening for the
sounds of him beating off, even when he wasn't in
there.  I caught myself a few times sneaking into his
room when he wasn't home, just to smell his pillow or
rummage through his dirty clothes.  When that happened
and I realized what I was doing, I thought seriously
about having myself committed or at least seeking
therapy.  Still, what the hell would I tell them?
Hello doctor, I've developed an uncontrollable
obsession about my son's enormous prick that I saw one
morning, and by the way I sucked him off at the local
mall without him knowing?  Oh yes doctor, and he
sucked my dick too, so I know he thinks I'm hot if
only I wasn't HIS FUCKING FATHER, eh?

There's no telling how long I would have gone on like
that; I had gotten to the point where suicide was
looking extremely attractive.  I couldn't control
anything in my life, and everything I ever wanted was
spinning just out of my reach.  My son was ceasing to
be human, and was becoming a symbol of everything I
had ever wanted out of life and been denied by fate or
circumstance.  The object of my sexual fixation lived
with me.  My wife and other child had become obstacles
and weights keeping me in place, not people.  I felt
detached, remote, like everything around me was only
visible through panes of dirty glass; running was the
only time I felt truly alive.  I was amazingly
unproductive at work, and I had no idea whether the
things I got done were any good or not.  I was at the
end of my rope.

Fortune had a way of reaching into situations like
mine and twiddling things around.  My wife went to
visit her aunt and grandparents in Philadelphia, and
took Maddy with her.  I knew I should have gone with
her, but I just couldn't bring myself to care.  Steve
wasn't going either; he begged off saying he was
supposed to meet some friends that weekend.  I stood
in the driveway as she pulled out, waving like a
zombie, and as soon as she was out of sight I went
back in to change.  I needed to run.

I ran for hours.  The breeze blowing in my face was
wonderful, and my legs felt so tired they burned.  I
had found that special peaceful place that can be
reached when you push your body past its limits; I was
floating adrift in the world, no heavier than a piece
of fluff on the wind.  I didn't even feel myself fall
or hit the asphalt of the jogging path; my legs kept
churning like I was still running, still moving, still
floating.

When I came out of it, a woman I didn't know was
dabbing at the bloody scrapes down the side of my
face.  She kept saying "Are you OK?  Sir?  Do you know
where you are?"  I nodded and looked at her, but it
seemed like too much effort to answer.  I could taste
blood in my mouth from what (I hoped) was just a split
lip.

"Yeah... yeah, I'm fine.  Just fell down.  Sorry."  I
couldn't get my bearings, and the grey cloud of my
depression was coming back.  My face and leg hurt, but
it didn't matter.

"Sir, I think you need a doctor.  Let me go and I'll
be right back, OK?"  Her concern was evident on her
face.  I wondered for an instant just how bad I
looked.

"No, no... I'll be fine.  Sorry.  Sorry to trouble you.
Thanks for your help.  Thank you."  No doctors.  Had
to get home.  I got up and started limping towards
home.  My leg hurt where I had scraped it, and my
thighs and calves burned like they were on fire.  I
could see the woman who had helped me standing at the
edge of the path and staring after me, obviously
trying to make up her mind what to do.

When I made it home, Steve was sitting at the kitchen
table.  He looked like he had been crying. He jumped
up and said "Where the hell have you been?  You've
been gone for hours!  They've been calling and I
couldn't find you and..."  Suddenly, he saw my face and
leg.  "Oh Jesus, what happened?  Are you OK, Dad?
Were you hit by a car?  What the hell is going on?"
Tears were streaming down his face now. The sight of
him like this penetrated the cloud around my brain; I
tried to shake off the urge to just go to sleep and
shut out the world.

"No, I fell down while I was jogging.  What's
happening?  Why are you so upset?"

"It's Mom... the police called and said that, that
there'd been an accident, and..." He was crying for real
now, huge gulping sobs that sounded like they were
being torn out of his guts by force.  I reached out
and wrapped my arms around him and held him tightly,
His sweet-smelling hair was in my face, and I could
feel my treacherous cock starting to flex in my
jogging shorts.  I put it out of my mind and tried to
comfort my son.

"It's going to be OK, Stevie.  I'm home now.  Shhh,
shhh. it's going to be OK.  The cops called?  What's
happened?"  Steve was trying to tell me, but I
couldn't understand him.  He was crying so hard he was
completely incoherent, and I was still trying to stay
focused on what was going on and not slip away into my
cold grey world again.  Finally he was able to get out
that the cops had called and said that Carla and Maddy
had been involved in a head-on collision with a
pickup.  They were both in intensive care in
Allentown, Pennsylvania.  When I called the hospital,
I got the runaround for almost an hour until I finally
started cussing people out.  When I finally talked to
the doctor in charge, he said that he figured Maddy
would bounce back since she was so young.  With Carla,
it wasn't so good; her neck was broken, and there were
massive internal injuries.  He said they were doing
"all they could", which generally means "come here as
quick as you can".

The shock of this happening was like cold water being
thrown on me.  All traces of detachment vanished; I
was running around like a madman.  When I glanced in
the mirror in the bathroom, I jumped back.  I didn't
even recognize the man looking back at me.  The side
of my face was caked with blood from a cut near my
hairline where I had fallen; my eyes were staring out
of a face that could only be described as "gaunt".  My
t-shirt was liberally splattered with blood too, and
when I peeled it off I realized I could count my ribs.
 The past few months of near-nonstop exercise and
barely eating had stripped my body of any trace of
body fat.  Always built lean, now I looked like a
greyhound with muscles flexing directly over bones.
My shorts were ripped, and if it weren't for my
jockstrap my cock would be flopping out as I walked.
I desperately needed a shower before we left for
Pennsylvania; if I walked into the hospital looking
like this they'd think I was a patient rather than a
visitor.

I started the water running as I peeled out of my
clothes.  My leg was scraped a little, but the sting
had mostly gone out of it.  As I washed off the blood
from my leg and face, I thought about what was going
on.  The past few months seemed like a dream; I didn't
remember big chunks of time... whole weeks were just
gone.  My mind was whirling.  I had no idea what I was
going to do.  What if Carla died?  What if Maddy died?
 What if they didn't die but were crippled?  How would
I tend to two kids by myself?

Steve and I threw our stuff in the SUV and I broke
nine kinds of speed records getting to Allentown.  We
finally found the hospital, and the doctors took me in
to see Carla.  There hadn't been any change in her
condition, for better or worse; she looked awful, pale
and hooked up to hundreds of machines.  Maddy was a
bit better, but she was sleeping and I didn't want to
wake her.  Steve and I went to the hotel next to the
hospital after I extracted a promise from the doctors
that they would call if there was any change in either
one of them.  By this point it was almost 11 PM, and
we were both so exhausted we were stumbling around in
a daze.  My accident in the park had caught up to me,
along with coming down off of the adrenaline rush from
the accident, so I could barely move.

The hotel was the only one near the hospital, and it
was packed to the roof.  After arguing with the girl
behind the counter until she called the manager, I
finally managed to get a single room on the fourth
floor.  Luckily, the manager was from some country
where family was more important than here; when he
heard my wife and daughter were in the hospital, he
gave us this room with no questions.  He said it
needed maintenance, but I didn't care; if it had a bed
and a shower, it suited me fine.  Steve was asleep in
the car when I went back out, so I was sure he
wouldn't have any objections either.  I woke him up
and together we lugged our stuff up to the elevator
and into our room.

When we got into the room, I realized what I had done.
 A single room with one king-sized bed meant I would
have to sleep with Steve.  As tired as I was, I
figured I had a decent chance of avoiding any kind of
suspicious behavior; nevertheless, I felt slightly
uncomfortable.  I sat down on the corner of the bed
and turned on the light over the phone.  I had
promised the doctor I would call with a room number
where I could be reached as soon as I had one.  In
talking to the nurse, I determined that there hadn't
been any change yet and gave her my number.  When I
hung up the phone, I looked over at my son.  Steve was
passed out cold in his clothes on top of the covers on
the other side of the bed.

 I shook him by the shoulder until he seemed to wake
up.  "Steve?  Get in the bed, you'll feel better."
Without saying a word or even opening his eyes, he
stood up and pulled off his t-shirt exposing his
smooth chest to me.  In spite of how tired I was, I
felt a rush of blood to my crotch.  He unbuckled his
belt and unsnapped the baggy jeans he always wore,
hooking his thumbs into his boxer tops and stripped
stark naked.  His six inches of soft cock swung back
and forth like a pendulum as he lifted first one leg,
then the other out of his pants.  I was transfixed,
like a bird staring into the eyes of a snake.  His
low-hanging balls swung against his legs as he crawled
into the bed, and then he pulled up the covers and
rolled over on his side, facing away from the light.

I took off my clothes slowly, and tried to think about
anything other than my naked son lying next to me in
an attempt to make my semi-hard nine inches go back
down.  I must have been successful, because the next
thing I realized was when I woke up pressed against
Steve's body.  The bedside clock said 4:30, and I
couldn't see anything through the thick curtains at
the window anyway.  My cock was hard as a rock and
pressed into Steve's ass, and I had thrown an arm
around him in my sleep.  He was curled up around my
hand, and I could feel the head of that humongous cock
pressing against my fingers.  He was hard too. As I
realized the situation I was in, he pushed back
against my cock.  I was stunned; though this was the
culmination of my fantasies, it was hardly the
circumstances I had envisioned.  He pushed back again
and murmured "mm... 'Tonio, put it in me again!"

'TONIO???

 I felt like the world stopped; I almost had a heart
attack.  My son had been fucked by his COUSIN?  I
almost lost my erection.  Almost, because while I was
lying there, stunned by what I had just heard, Steve
pushed back again.  This time the alignment was right,
and I could feel my cockhead slip into his warm, slick
asshole.  All other thoughts were put on hold; nothing
mattered but getting my prick further into my son's
tight rectum.  He woke up at the feeling of being
invaded, but I didn't care... I was getting what I
wanted, what I had wanted for months.  His ass was
like water to a man in the desert, like food to the
starving, like open space to a claustrophobe.  I
needed it.  I had to have it.

"Ant... DAD?"  Steve reached around behind himself and
froze.  I didn't know what to do.  I couldn't very
well say that he had done it, though he had (well,
sort of).

He sat there for a second, stunned.  I waited to see
what the fallout was going to be; I was resigned at
this point to whatever happened.  Finally, he reached
back and grabbed me by the ass and pulled me further
in.  I lost it; when my curved nine inch cock bottomed
out in his ass, I started shooting like a cannon.  I
was deep in my son's tight ass, and the feeling of my
hot sperm shooting inside him was the best thing I
ever felt.  I bit his shoulder and thrust again into
him, pumping out even more of my cum deep in his
bowels.  He started grunting and bucking back against
me, as turned on as I was. There aren't many moments
in life where everything is perfect.  This was
definitely one.  Steve was moaning like a bitch in
heat as the curved shaft of my prick rubbed against
his prostate, and I could see his oversized cock
bouncing around in front of him.  Though my orgasm was
over, my meat wasn't even close to getting soft.  I
nosed it deeper into my son, reaching around him and
getting a grip on his huge rod.

"Dad..." Steve whispered.  "I've wanted this for so
long... I don't know why you're doing it, but I don't
want you to stop, OK?"  I assured him I wouldn't the
best way I knew how; I pulled my dick out halfway and
pushed it all the way back into his warm, buttery
depths.  He almost screamed as he thrust himself back
to meet me, his shoulderblades resting against my
pecs.  He turned his head sideways and I licked his
lips.  He nipped at my tongue with his teeth
playfully, and the next thing I knew his tongue was
deep in my mouth, our lips pressed tightly together.
He tasted like the essence of joy distilled into one
drop of pure ecstasy, like the Sun after two weeks of
rain.  I could feel his ass spasming around my
cockmeat as his giant ten inch prick stiffened even
further in my hand.  Steve started moaning louder,
bucking back against me, almost hurting me with the
force with which he was taking my cock.

I could feel his orgasm start around my prickhead, the
tightness and constriction making it's way down the
length of my cock as my son's muscles tensed around my
curved shaft.  Feeling him gasp and tense against me
started me down the slope with him, and we jerked and
shuddered together.  I felt my first shot fire deep
into his bowels as the first load of cream burst out
of his bloated prickmeat, painted his face and the
pillow under his head.  Jesus, could my kid shoot!  It
felt like gallons of cum running over my hand.
Meanwhile, I was having one of the best orgasms I had
ever had, ejaculating again and again until I thought
my son's guts would rupture from the pressure of all
the cum inside him.  We finally collapsed together, my
softening manmeat still linking us together.

"Dad?" Steve broke the spell by finally speaking.

"Yeah...?"  I was more relaxed than I had been in
years.  That more than anything else told me how
fucked up my perspective was; I had a wife and
daughter in intensive care not a mile away, and I had
just finished buttfucking my sixteen year old son.

"Dad?"

"What?"

"Gramma said I was supposed to tell you... 'The Moon
never forgets.'"  I heard his words, but they didn't
make sense.  Behind my closed eyelids an angel
appeared in my mind's eye, bearing a cup and smiling
like a tropical dawn.  Despite all my troubles, I
could feel the wheel of my soul turning and rotating,
linked with everything else.  I found my place, I
thought to myself.  I finally found my place.

"Dad... I just wanted to say, I'm really glad we did
that.  I mean... well, I never thought you'd want to do
stuff with me, and I saw you once when you were, um,
well, I just..."  I silenced Steve with a kiss.  I
didn't care; I knew I ought to be upset, knew I ought
to be disgusted with myself, but everything had left
me except for a deep and abiding sense of calm.  It
was all going to be alright, somehow.