Date: Wed, 8 Mar 2017 15:14:02 +0000 (UTC)
From: - - <mike.99999@yahoo.com>
Subject: Cop and Kid - Naked 2

It's a hot day, even this early in the morning. A cop parks his car in the
driveway of a quaint suburban house, getting a bit of attention. He walks
up to the front door with a young friend he's made.

The cop is wearing his uniform, blue pants with a dark stripe up the side,
high boots, a cap, but only a white undershirt that bares his shoulders and
a good amount of chest hair. The kid with him is wearing the cop's shirt,
totally naked underneath. His father notices, puts down his morning orange
juice, and comes to the screen door wearing his usual robe, totally naked
underneath.

The cop explains that the kid's clothes had gotten wet and then gotten
washed downriver. They all share a smile at the story and tease the kid
about his adventure.

The kid is over the embarrassment of it all at this point and pulls the
cop's shirt off. It draped over his smaller frame, with arms hanging down
to his knees. The cop holds it in his hand, not ready to put it on again
and start sweating through it.

Watching his son stand in the sitting room without a stitch on, the father
is taken aback, surprised at his son's body. Suddenly, he looks like a man,
short still but a young man, with a boney Adam's Apple and some definite
muscle and hair under the arms. The father looks him up and down and sees
himself, a reflection, a man, just the same as the father and with all the
same parts pretty much full grown.

The cop watches the man evaluate the kid. The father stumbles over his
obvious surprise and explains, "I suppose I hadn't noticed as you changed
right before my eyes."

The father explains that he feels he now owes his son a real "birds and
bees" talk. The kid rolls his eyes, as this would be maybe the fourth
faltering attempt. The son sits down in the big wing-back chair by the
bookcase, next to the record-player, usually where his father sits and
smokes his pipe, and he rests his elbows on his knees and his chin in his
hands.

"Maybe you could stay for a bit," the father asks the cop. With further
thanks for his assistance, the cop relaxes and listens as the father
explains how he hasn't quite accomplished his goal of spelling it all out.

"I remember how my father was forced to handle it," the cop says. He
explains that, when he was just a bit younger than the kid, his father had
to sit him down and talk about something that was very noticeable. "He was
also a cop, and he joked that I had a concealed weapon," he explains.



The cop shares that what he appreciated most was how his father let him ask
the questions that were most of concern to him. "We talked about what had
been sticking out and what I should do about it."

The father pulls a smaller chair up next to his son, leaning over towards
him. The father stops and, once again, pulls down that old book with "The
Facts of Life" written on the cover. The father's robe falls off one bare
leg with a flash as he sits, and just then they all hear a knock at the
door.



Two men stand at the screen door, looking in with concerned faces because
of the police car in the driveway. The father welcomes them in, apologizing
for losing track of the time. His brother and their friend are there to go
play golf. The friend recognizes the cop.

"Hey doc," the cop says, getting up to shake hands. The friend is the local
doctor and knows them all. They stand and talk, while the kid sits there
and looks up at them, still not one of the grown-ups quite yet. Someone
asks if junior was caught skinny-dipping in the town fountain or something.

The kid's uncle says, "Oh, no, not that book again!" He has heard before
about all the attempts to give "THE Talk." The doctor chimes in as the
professional expert, saying that it mustn't be made into one almighty
conversation with such pressure.

Then he interrupts himself to complain about the heat and undo the top two
buttons on his shirt. He jokes that the cop's new uniform must be in
response to this humidity. The uncle tells them all to have a seat and goes
to fetch some water and glasses for the lot.

The doctor continues his advice, "I remember when I was a youngster having
lots of questions about the body and hormones and changes that were
happening to me." This causes the father to launch back into his
semi-prepared lecture to his audience of one and starting with pretty dry
biology language.

The cop and the doctor rest back in their chairs, facing the father-son
tableau. When the uncle returns, he interrupts to reminisce as well, but
not of when he was young and instead about having the talk with his son,
the kid's cousin, "He wanted to know if he'd get as big as me when he grew
up."

"They look about the same length to me," jokes the cop, pointing out that
the father's robe had come open again and that the older and younger model
are both on view.

The father gets a bit flustered and embarrassed. "Well, no point in keeping
this thing on then," he says. He takes off the heavy robe and sits by the
kid, them both bare and smooth with some freckles. He goes right back into
the lecture, stumbling over terms like arousal and engorgement,
occasionally flipping through the book to look for another topic.

The three men sit and watch, occasionally wiping a little sweat from
someplace. The uncle opens his shirt and sits in just an undershirt, the
same as the cop, but the cop is coated in fur and the uncle has just a
patch or two.

Then there's a man at the door, not knocking but just looking in, also
wearing a robe and also with a mat of chest hair poking out and collecting
sweat. They each slowly notice him, and he stammers, "oh... hello... I was
just curious if there was any problem?"

It's their next-door neighbor. The father waves him to come in and join
them, what's one more? The doctor explains to another of his patients and
friends that they've all stumbled into the witness box for that big,
dreaded talk that every father and son must have.

"Oh, I see. And why not make it a kind of ritual, eh?" the neighbor
says. He knows some of the other men, but not all. His barbershop is around
the corner. "Yes, I certainly remember all those questions I had when I
started sprouting hair everywhere."

The father tries to continue his talk, "yes, that's correct of
course. There is that stage to consider. Did I already mention that? Of
course you're aware of that already, clearly." The father is more
embarrassed of the conversation than the son, even with all eyes on his
sprouted hair. The son boldly shows off his underarms and then sniffs,
making a funny face.

The uncle says, "I don't know why I wore these." Undoing his pants, sliding
them off his legs, and setting them aside on an ottoman, he asks his
brother if he might borrow a pair of shorts for their day of golf. The
father says that'd be fine. His brother enjoys the mild breeze blowing
through and sits in just his underwear and socks, with an opened
short-sleeved shirt getting wet under each arm.

As the father tries to continue his thought, there's another knock on the
door. It's a familiar face to almost everybody in the room, the young
milkman for the neighborhood. The father stands, realizes he's not dressed,
then realizes that everyone else is in various stages of dress as well, and
before he has a chance to explain, the milkman steps in as he has before
and says he's just there to pick up some money he is owed.

Standing in his starch white uniform and cap, he looks around and asks,
"Are you all in here to beat the heat? It must be a hundred degrees
already." He normally wears an undershirt but not today, and his top button
isn't done, although it's supposed to be. He takes off his cap and wipes
his forehead.

The cop stands and pours the young man a glass of water, suggesting that he
take a seat as well, as the man of the house doesn't seem to have any cash
on him at the moment. Then he explains that they're waiting for them to
wrap up "the talk."

"Oh, the birds and the bees, huh? It wasn't that long ago I had to get sat
down for that. I wanted to ask my pop about wet dreams," he says as he sits
next to the cop and rambles a bit.

The father is about to stumble over asking his son if nocturnal emissions
are something he's experienced when another knock on the door makes
everybody look over.

"I wasn't sure if I should come up, but then I saw the milkman go in," says
an older man with a younger man standing behind him. It's the garbageman
and his son, who is a little older than the kid at the center of all this,
and they're both wearing brown zip-up coveralls. They finished their rounds
and were there to pick up an old couch for the neighbor.

They're invited in and listen as the neighbor, now sweaty and barely
covered up by his robe, gives the brief explanation of the situation. Of
course they joke about how hot it is and unzip their coveralls off their
chests and tie the arms around their waists, sweat pooling on their chests
and backs down to stain their light blue boxer shorts after a morning's
work.

"This one knew everything already, but had all these questions about the
prostate," says the garbageman.

"Oh yes, the prostate, do you know what that is, son?" asks the father.

"Yes, dad, I know about that and where it is and what it does. I think I
know pretty much everything already, you know, from guys talking about
stuff." The kid stops and pauses, actually considering if there's anything
that they haven't gone over a few times now or anything that he was
confused about from talk in the locker room.

He says, "Really the only thing I was still kind of curious about is if all
guys ...look the same, you know, and ...get hard the same and if everything
is the same for every man."

The father pats his son's knee and explains that it's just the opposite,
that every man has the same equipment that does the same thing but that
we're all unique. He points down to their laps and says, "you can see
clearly that you and I look pretty similar, and I know that your uncle and
I look pretty similar. You might expect that. But his is a little longer
and bigger than mine."

The uncle, who is sitting at the next chair over from the father and
wearing just underwear and socks, holds the outline in his white briefs as
a visual aid for the lecture.

"And I bet if you looked at another father and son side-by-side they might
look similar to each other but different from ours," he says.

The garbageman's son says, "I wish. Mine is nowhere near as big as my
dad's. Here look." He stands and pushes his coveralls and boxer shorts down
to his ankles, and his father does the same. They all look at the older
man's thick piece and his son's thinner imitation.

The father continues, "and you can see that he's a little hard, but his
father isn't, and that I'm a little hard but you're not, and I can see that
the good doctor is standing to attention now." They all look at an obvious
tent in the doctor's pants. "But that's different for each man, and of
course we'll each have a different size when we're stiff. We come in all
shapes and sizes. Some hang low or curl to one side or in some other way
look, well, different."

The milkman says, "Mine always sticks straight up flat against my belly!"
and he undoes his white uniform pants to show the group a
smaller-than-average member but one that he explains gets hard as a rock
and bolt upright at the drop of a hat.

The cop says, "And now mine is just the opposite, kid. Here, look, pretty
hefty but I gotta let it get hard or give it a few tugs like this."

The neighbor is now also tugging, letting his robe slide off and also
sitting their fully nude except for a pair of slippers. The kid looks from
across the room at what's on display in various stages of undress and
arousal.

The doctor stands and says, "Perhaps it would be good to let him get a good
look at everybody and see?" The father asks his son if he'd like that, and
he nods, and then he asks the group if they'd agree to that, and they all
say it would be fine, and they stand and step around to form a circle.

The father stands next to his brother, who slides his underwear down. The
cop and the milkman are next to each other, also observing each other's
anatomy. The cop slides his pants down to his boots and steps closer to the
milkman's side. The neighbor is naked. The garbageman and his son are
bare. Everybody's either hard or getting there.

The kid is looking around at everybody. He stares at the doctor's thick
member, and the doctor says, "Here, feel what that's like." The kid holds
it and compares the feeling to holding his own. The doctor says, "I bet it
feels a lot like his," pointing to the cop. The kid reaches over and holds
the cop's in his other hand, comparing the weight and diameter.

"See how some of us are leaking quite a bit," says the father, pointing to
his own tool and the milkman's. "That's different for each man as well, as
is how much they'll shoot."

"Can I see?" asks the kid. They're all already sliding their hands up and
down and nodding.

"I'm almost ready," says the milkman. His smooth leg sliding against the
cop's hairy one, they lock eyes as the young man shoots a little load and
slathers it around.

The uncle, without warning, erupts into his hand at the sight of his
friendly milkman's orgasm. He moans and grunts. The kid watches. Then he
watches his father watching.

The doctor tells the group that he'll be next, and shoots a small load into
his palm, having already jerked once that morning in the shower as usual,
especially before a day of golf. The kid notices that they garbageman and
his son are both writhing in pleasure with one hand exploring their balls
and pressing between the legs.

The kid copies, while his father watches and also copies. The cop watches
and releases another load, stamping his boot in pleasure and gritting his
teeth.

Together, with mirrored curved-up cocks in hand, that father and son each
spurt and smile. All are sweating and breathing heavy, each sitting his
bare ass down in the living room and holding his messy crotch, sticky and
stiff.

They slump in their chairs. This is the last birds and bees talk for the
kid, but not the last time these men enjoyed spending time together.


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