Date: Sun, 3 Jul 2016 18:34:01 +0100 (BST)
From: z.blake@tutanota.com
Subject: My Father's Cassettes

MY FATHER'S CASSETTES
By Zachyboy
M/b, mast, oral, anal, audio voyeur

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

Please support the Nifty Archive Alliance. This is where we record our memories.

http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

The following story is a work of fiction. No such recordings exist.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

AUTHOR'S PROLOGUE

Three years after my father died in 1994, an unmarked box arrived at my
house one day postmarked Seattle with no return address. Inside, in neatly
lined plastic cases, were a series of TDK D-90 audio cassettes, 45 minutes
on each side, the kind that were used in the 1970's and 80's when I was a
boy.

The cassette index sleeves were carefully labeled in fine black ink, in
what I instantly recognized as my father's neat block handwriting. I hadn't
seen his writing in years, and just the sight of it made my heart swell.
All of the cassettes were dated, all were labeled with the name of a boy,
and most contained a carefully trimmed picture, slipped inside the
case. Some were snapshots, some were school pictures, all were boys.

There was a carefully folded note inside the box, written to me in pencil
on three sheets of wide-ruled yellow legal pad paper. I opened it up and
was surprised to see it started with "Dear Danny." I haven't been called
Danny in years. I'm Daniel now, and I have been for ages. I'm nearly 50
now. But the yellow note used my childhood name.

Dear Danny," it said.

These are your father's cassettes, which were sent to me over a
16-year-period from 1974 to 1990.

You and I have never met. Your dad and I were kids together, sexually
active from a young age, and very physical with each other and with many
other boys, and we grew up to be like-minded souls who continued to share
our love for boys and our stories and fantasies and real life experiences
with them as we grew older.

Of course, it should be no surprise to you that your father loved boys
physically– many of them – in deed and imagination. You'll hear some
of those fantasies and experiences in his recordings. Some of the boys
themselves are on the recordings with him. Many of the recordings are very
graphic and sexual in nature. Some include sex moments as they were
actually happening.

I hope these recordings don't disturb your memory of your dad or make it
worse in any way. And more than anything, I hope his love for other boys –
his love WITH other boys – doesn't make you feel jealous or replaced in
any way. I can assure you, Danny, he may have loved other boys physically,
but in his heart, you were his lust and his life. Don't let anything you'll
hear on these recordings diminish your sense of importance to him. You were
the air he breathed and the heartbeat in his chest. He loved you more than
any of these boys. You were his oxygen. You were his prince.

As your dad and I exchanged these cassettes in the mail and saw each other
in person on rare occasions, he shared all of his secrets with me, and told
me about the special, secret kind of love the two of you shared...when it
started and how it grew.

It was the kind I shared with my own son Scotty, who was a couple years
older than you. Your dad loved Scotty too. In different ways, and on many
occasions. You'll hear him loving my boy too, right from the first tape in
the box. Your dad and I loved boys for many years, and shared our stories,
and many of them were about you, and what he wanted to do to you. You'll
hear your dad talking directly to you on some of these tapes. Before he
loved you physically, he fantasized about you so often, and he shared those
fantasies with me.

And later, you'll hear your own voice in some of these tapes. You'll hear
how your physical relationship with your dad actually began. You'll hear
your dad making love to you eventually, filling up that beautiful boy of
10, who didn't know he was recording both of you and the intimate thing
that you did. There are several recordings of you and your father having
sex in here, but the day he took your virginity is my favorite. It's
clearly labeled. It's beyond amazing. I've listened to it so many times
masturbating, I have it committed to memory.

"Go slower, Dad, inside me, Dad. It feels so big, go slower, Dad."

"I don't think I can, baby. I don't think I can. I'll try baby, shhhh, I'll
try. Just hold your breath and count to ten. Count to ten for me, Danny."

"One...two...three...four..."

Jesus, Danny. I get hard right now just writing those words. Just
remembering you counted for him while he fucked you.

I'm ashamed to say your dad and I fell out of touch these past few years, a
misunderstanding that led to a great distance between us I'll regret for
the rest of my life, and I was saddened to learn just recently, from a
mutual friend, of his illness and death. All I can say is I'm so sorry,
Danny. I can't imagine what his loss must be like for you. I know that you
loved him as much as he loved you. My heart aches every day for a
separation that came too soon.

It was always your dad's wish I'd send you these recordings after he
died. He wanted you to have them and know who he truly was and understand
the scope of his attraction to boys, and perhaps why that all led him to
his sexual relationship with you. He always feared he hurt you with
that. Ruined you in some way. He felt guilty, Scotty. He was sorry for it,
but he loved you, and he couldn't stop himself.

The older you got, as he watched you turn into a man, discussing it with
you personally was just too big a leap for him to make while he was
living. So I send you these now because he so much wanted you to understand
him. They're a rare glimpse and intimate look inside your dad's soul and
his history. His lust and his passion, his profound and never-ending deep
ache for you, which went beyond the physical into a fiery realm that left
him gasping and shaking. And they also include many of the powerful sexual
fantasies and experiences he had with other boys. He was a complicated and
beautiful man who was full of burning boy love in every wild direction, but
he always loved you most. Please be sure of that forever and always.

I say with a chuckle that I'm sorry to part with these recordings, Danny,
because even though I've listened to some of them so many times through the
years, I've practically memorized them, each repeated listening always
reminded me of how incredibly special your dad was to me, and what a gift
he was to my heart.

He was a lifetime soulmate, the likes of which I'll never find again. But I
know he wanted you to have these tapes, so I'm sending them all and hoping
you'll be lifted and loved, aroused and renewed by the sound of his voice
and the strength of his memory.

Even though I've never met you Danny, I'll always be in love with the boy
you used to be. Just like your dad was. Every day of his life, he loved you
so much. I won't ever forget him."

Best wishes, Your father's friend, B.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

MY FATHER'S CASSETTES Recording #1 Boy: Scotty Date: July 2, 1974

Note to Readers: I would have been 8 years old that year. My dad and I had
not had sex yet, and outside of completely non-sexual showers together and
him helping me put my pajamas on at night or get dressed in the morning, I
don't believe there was any nude contact or touching at all when I was
younger. It may have happened, but I have no memory of it. I loved my dad
more than anyone, but he hadn't made me his lover yet.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

There is a rough clunking and shuffling nose as if a portable tape recorder
is being placed loudly on a table, and then there's a brief scratchy
"whoosh," as if it's being pulled closer to the speaker.

The voice on the cassette is my father's friend B.

He's talking about his own son Scotty.

I look in the cassette case and there's a picture of Scotty. A fourth-grade
school picture. A ten-year-old boy in his best shirt, white with orange
stripes, wide collar, smiling brightly. A little gap between his white
Chiclet teeth. Bright green eyes. Beautiful shaggy brown hair. A 1974
boy. Ten and beautiful and captured in time. I stare at his picture and
fall in love with him as his father talks to my dad on the TKD tape.

B is breathless throughout the recording, and as the tape goes on, it
becomes very clear he is masturbating as he records this message to my
dad. B's voice is shaky with excitement.

"Hey, old buddy," he says as the tape began...as the short, obligatory
strip of white lead-in tape rolled around the take-up spindle and the long
mass of brown recordable magnetic tape clump took it's place, a big brown
45-minute-per-side tape cluster, capturing decades-old audio.

"Thanks for calling me after Scotty fell off his bike. He likes you a lot
you know. He liked your last visit and how you threw him around in the
pool. I had to laugh out loud when you said, "So sorry about Scotty's camp
injury. Would it help if I kissed his forehead and sucked his boy cock?"
Shit, it probably would. You know Scotty."

"Anyhoo, I soooooo appreciate your concern, you damn instigator. Glad
you're coming back up for the Fourth. In fact you've got me sitting here
now with a bourbon in front of me and my dick in my hand, already thinking
how you could heal him up for me the old fashioned way on the Fourth of
July. I'll take Barb out to lunch and give you two some time together. I
think drawing his attention to his hot little peter and away from the
bruises might be just the thing to take his mind off his troubles.

"Tell you what. You come over for the Fourth, and I'll tell him just what
to expect from you. I'll make sure he understands what to do."

There's a spitting sound on the recording, as if B is spitting on his hand
to lube his cock for easier masturbation as he talks to my dad.

"Welcome home, Scotty," B says in the recording, all breathless and
chipper. "Let's get those shorts off and we can give you some tingles to
take your mind off that bump you got at camp."

"Oh fuck, good buddy. Just think of it. You can slide his short pants down
and have a look at that 10-year-old boy bulge. Hey, turn him around and
check out the shape of his rump while you're at it. Nice, huh? Lord, I love
that fuckin' rump. Love to lick it. Love to be up inside it."

"Then, slide those tighty-whities down, lay him back on the bed and lather
him up like Lassie on a chew toy."

There's a pause in the recording and a soft moan. You can hear the
slick-slick sound of B stroking his own cock in the background before he
continues.

"Taste that 3-inch shaft. Suck those tiny boy balls. Shiiiitttt, go ahead
and head on down to that under-sack pussy garden. Clean off that sweat and
get a good taste. Smell how hot you make his wet little cunt."

There's another pause and moan on the recording. Another spitting sound. B
is masturbating faster now and he's panting between words.

"Don't mind me, good buddy. Just jacking out a load now. Thinking of my
little Scotty twisting and moaning under your tongue. Damn that boy loves
to suck cock. Loves to get his ass fucked. Didn't like it at first, but now
he comes to get it at night. After his mom goes to sleep, sure enough,
comes to get it.

"Make him tingle first, though. Make sure you give him a good shiver before
you push his legs up and aim your cockhead at his tender cherry ass. Make
him cum down to the fireworks limping and dripping cum in his swim suit."

There's silence in the recording as B keeps on stroking.

"Oh fuck, good buddy. You're gonna make me cum. Gonna make me shoot out my
jizz thinking of you fucking my boy on the Fourth of July. Fucking him good
and proper."

More silence on the recording. More quietly moaning masturbation. A quick
inhalation of air. A fast shock suck breath.

"I know you aren't gonna stop with sucking him. I know you're putting your
cock in his boy pussy. Just make him tingle before you make him yelp. Make
him tingle. ((almost a whisper)) Make him tingle..."

There are a few silent "nnnghs" on the recording here. As if B is getting
close to the finish. His next line is nearly inaudible.

"Fuck. Fuck. Empty your nut load as deep as you can in him. Put it all the
way inside his pussy, buddy. Way up deep inside him. Oh yeah. Take it,
Scotty. Take it Scotty. Shoot it in him, Donny. Deep! NNNNNGGGH!!"

There is a gasp on the recording. An "OHHH!" A second, grunted, fierce
"NNNNNGGGGGH," as Bobby ejaculates and grunts and makes a clear series of
gasps. Then the audio stops for a moment. Things go silent. Then we hear
panting and the shuffling of the recorder again. Knocking sounds and then
the tape goes dead. Cut-off point.

It picks up a second later and I hear my father's voice, picking up with
his friend left off, obviously later, on the Fourth of July. I'm shocked to
hear the boy Scotty speaking on the recording with him.

One man started and another man resumed, pre-planned and thought-out. Happy
birthday, America.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

"Hey, buddy." I hear my father's soft and soothing voice say to the boy on
the tape. I gasp out loud, hearing my dad's voice again after so many years
without him. My eyes well up. I'm overcome with loss and love.

"Hi," says a little boy voice, not yet broken by puberty. Scotty, 10 and
charming.

I look at Scotty's school picture again from the cassette tape as my dad
talks to him. Charming, shaggy-haired gap-toothed 1970's boy. Wide
color. Beautiful red lips. A shaggy-haired smile that could light up the
world.

"Can I record us?" my dad says cheerily. "So we can listen back later?"
We'll make it like a show. Is that okay with you?"

"Okay," the boy says giggling. "But that's my dad's tape recorder. We need
permission."

"Yep," my dad says. "Panasonic. He told me we can use it."

There's silence on the recording. Scotty is unconvinced.

"Promise," my dad assures him. "He says it's okay, champ. Cross my heart."

"Hope to die?" the boy asks in dramatic timbre.

"Stick a needle in my eye," my dad says with the complete and utter
seriousness of an oath. He was good with boys. I remember that.

"Okay." says the boy, relaxing and kind of giggly again. "As long as we got
his permission."

The tape recorder makes a shuffling sound, as if my dad is sliding it
across the table closer to the boy.

"I know," my dad says, snapping his fingers. "Let's do an interview. Like
Walter Cronkite on the Evening News! How's that sound, hot shot?"

"Okay," the boy giggles.

"Okay," my dad says. "I'll be Walter Cronkite, you just be you."

"Okay,' the boy giggles. "I like it when I'm me!"

"What's your name, son?" my dad says, putting on a fairly decent Walter
Cronkite impersonation.

"Scotty," the boy says, with a sunshine-sparkling laugh in his voice.

"And how old are you today, Scotty?"

"I'm 10," says the boy.

"And what grade are you in?" says my Walter Cronkite dad.

"I just finished 4th," he says proudly. "At James Madison Elementary. And
next year I'm in 5th."

"Excellent," says my dad, adding the patented Cronkite sign-off. "And
that's the way it was."

And then my dad stops being Walter Cronkite and just uses his regular voice
and starts talking to Scotty again.

"What are you going to do for the Fourth of July, Scotty?"

There's a click in the recording as if the tape recorder accidentally shuts
off. It resumes a second later.

"...have to say it again...bumped it off by mistake..."

"...chicken," says the boy. "At the Lion's Club stand. They grill it. Then
swim. Then fireworks after the sun goes down." The boy is bright. Chattery.

"What beach?" asks my dad with cheery interest. "Do you know the name?"

"Point Park Beach," says Scotty brightly. God, he has a pretty voice.

There is a long pause in the recording. I count it out. One one-thousand,
two one-thousand, three one-thousand. I get all the way up to seven before
my dad's voice resumes again.

"Do you have a special word for your penis, Scotty?"

There is a very long pause. The cassette recorder shuffles as if my dad is
pushing it closer to the boy. The silence goes on for what seems like ages.

"It's okay, Scotty," my dad said soothingly. "Your dad told you we were
going to talk about our penises and sex stuff, right? And that we might do
some sex stuff with each other too? He told you it would be okay, right?"

A pause. Scotty must have nodded yes, because my dad says...

"You have to say it out loud," (and there is humor in his voice). "The tape
recorder can't see you nod."

There's a giggle from the boy.

"Yes," he says. Then after a pause, quietly, a little embarrassed, "My dad
says do all the stuff with you that I do with him. You know." Embarassed,
"For S-E-X."

"Mmm," says my dad, and I hear excited shakiness in his voice. "That would
be nice, Scotty. I'd like to do S-E-X with you."

There is another pause. Neither of them know what to say, though they both
know what they're here for.

"So, do you have a special word for your penis?" my dad asks the boy again.

A pause. A shuffle.

"Peter," the boy giggles. "We call it my peter."

"Peter," my dad repeats, with a smile in his voice. "That's a nice word for
it, Scotty. I like the word peter."

Another pause as my dad formulates his game plan.

"Can I take my peter out, Scotty?" my dad asks softly. "Can I take it out
and show it to you? The same way your dad shows you his?"

A pause. A nervous giggle.

"Guess so," the boy mumbles nervously.

There's a shuffling sound. A chair pushes back. I hear my dad's belt
clink. More shuffling. Fabric sliding down. Pants being lowered.

"Wow," the boy says softly after a pause. "S'big one. And hairy."

"Mmm-hmm," my dad says calmly. "How bout you take your peter out too,
Scotty? Let's take a good look at your pretty peter."

A pause.

"Mine's not so big," the boy says, almost embarrassed. "No hair on mine,
either."

"That's okay," my dad says softly. "Little ones are good ones too."

There's more shuffling on the recording. Another belt buckle clinks.

A long pause. Then an extended whistle from my dad.

"Mmmmm," he says. "That's a fine peter you've got there, Scotty. You've got
a beautiful peter."

Another pause. I imagine I can hear a clock ticking on the wall, but it's
likely just the soft mechanical whirr of the wheels on the cassette player.

"Come on over here closer, Scotty. Let's touch our peters together."

A giggle. Some shuffling sounds. A very long pause. A tiny soft boy moan.

"That's it," my dad says softly. "Rub your peter on my peter. Let's make
our peters kiss."

And then some more shuffling.

And then a tender, "Hey, look up at me,' from my dad. And then another
pause. And then soft moans from both man and boy, and I know my dad is
kissing him.

I know my dad is kissing this 10-year-old boy, because I can hear the soft
clicks of their mouths and their lips together.

"S'big," I hear Scotty say again. "Your peter's getting really super big."

"Yours too," whispers my dad between more kissing sounds. "Touch it,
Scotty. Put your hand on my peter and touch it."

"I'm scared," says the boy. "What if they come back home? What if we're not
private?"

"They won't," my dad says quietly. "They'll be gone until three. Your dad
promised me."

"Okay," says the boy. And then the conversation stops again and more
kissing sounds resume. I hear my dad moaning, deep in his throat.

This goes on for at least a full minute. Breathless kissing sounds. Boy
lips. Mouth moaning. My dad is kissing a 10-year-old boy. The fifth grade
son of his best friend. My cock is hardening in my pants listening to it. I
remember those kisses. I remember that dad tongue. I'm so envious of the
boy and I listen to him kiss-whimper. As I listen to him taking my dad's
tongue in his mouth, 42 years later.

"Suck my peter, Scotty," my dad says softly.

Oh God, I think in my head. He's going to make the boy suck him. I remember
the flavor of my father's cock in my little mouth and I unsnap my pants. I
unsnap my pants and take my dick out remembering.

A pause. The boy is unsure. All noise stops. The tape recorder whirs.

"Go ahead," my dad says softly. Kindly. Encouragingly. "Put your mouth
around my peter and suck it, Scotty. You know how to do it. You suck mine
first, and after my sperm comes out, I'll suck yours."

"Kinda scared," says the boy. "Not sure if I should do that part."

"Really?" my dad says with a bright smile in his voice. "It's okay,
Soctty. Your dad says you suck his peter all the time."

A pause.

"Yeah," says the boy. "But I never sucked a different one."

"Aw, that's okay," says my dad. "It'll be fine, I promise. They all taste
different, you'll see, but it'll be just like sucking your dad's. Come on,
Scotty. You're a big, brave boy, aren't you? Give it a little suck."

More silence. More uncertainty from the boy.

"Scotty? my dad says quietly, but a little more firmly, a little more
no-nonsense tone in his voice. "Your dad told me you're a really good peter
sucker, right? So now you need to suck my peter."

"Okay," Scotty says quietly. "But just for a little."

There is dead silence for a second, then the shuffling of fabric. A chair
moves again and I try to imagine what's going on. My dad sliding his chair
back. Scotty kneeling down between his legs. A ten year old kneeling down
to service the cock of my father. The cock I sucked so many times when I
was a kid. The cock's whose taste I had memorized. Every flavorful atom
after work. Every soap-soft scent of it at bedtime.

"Ohhhhhh," my dad sighs. "Ohhhhh, baby, that good." And I know from that
satisfied sigh, the boy has taken my dad's dick in his mouth. I stroked my
own cock listening. I was so jealous. So envious of him and so happy for
him, taking that beautiful cock in his mouth.

"Ohhhh fuck," my dad whispers. "That's it, Scotty. That's a good boy."

Conversation stops for a long minute as I strain to listen to my dad's
ragged breath, with an occasional soft "Mmmmm" sound and a high pitched
whining sound from the boy, with his mouth full of man cock.

"Strong," he mumbles at one point, almost inaudibly. "Yours tastes
stronger."

"Good boy," my dad whispers. "Suck that big cock, Scotty."

"Your cock hairs smell stronger." Scotty says firmly.

"Suck it baby. Don't talk. Just suck it."

The conversation stops again. There is mumbling as the boy goes down on him
again.

"That's it," my dad says, and his breathing is getting gaspy. "Oh
yeah. That's it baby. I wish your dad could see us. I wish he could see
your little lips wrapped around my peter. I wish he could see you bobbing
up and down on it. Fuck you do that good, baby. Aw, suck that big
dick. Your boy's a natural cocksucker, Bobby. You trained him well."

I hear the boy giggle. Little cocksucker giggle boy.

My own penis is hard and leaking as I stroke it and listen to the
recording. My dad talking to Scotty's dad as Scotty fellates him. Knowing
his dad will listen to it later. Knowing they'll share this filty
cassette. Boy love captured in time. I masturbate faster listening to them
moan.

"That's it, baby. Get some more in your mouth. Go a little deeper,
Scotty. Way down deep. Get it all wet in the back of your throat. Cup my
balls, baby. Good boy. That's it, Scotty. You're so smart. You're so good
at this."

Silence on the recording. Slurping sounds. A gag. A cough.

"My peter's gonna squirt in your mouth pretty soon, Scotty. Is that okay
with you, baby?"

A muffled, "Uh-huh."

I stoke my cock faster, whispering, "Give it to him. Give it to him."

My dad's voice is shaking. Breathless with excitement and higher-pitched
now. I'm jacking my cock faster by this point, listening to my dad get head
from this 10-year-old boy. I spit in my hand to slick up my palm for the
finish.

"Give it to him, Dad," I whisper. "Make him eat your ball load."

I'd eaten that creamy thick load so many times. Soooo many times.

My dad moans softly. The boy makes full mouth whimpering sounds on the
recording.

"Smells real strong," he mumbles. "Salty. Tastes salty."

"Good boy," my dad whispers as I stroke my own cock, on the verge of
cumming. "Eat it like a good boy."

There's more silence. A continued mumbling blowjob until my dad asks
suddenly...

"When your dad squirts his cum in your mouth, Scotty, do you spit it out or
swallow it down?"

A pause. A slurp, A coming-up-for-air.

"Swallow it down," the boy says meekly, embarrassed and owned. "He always
makes me eat it all."

"Good boy, Scotty. Gonna feed you some then. Gonna squirt it all right in
your mouth then. I want you to swallow it all down when it comes out of me
okay? And then eat it all up, and I'll suck your peter too, okay?

"Okay," the boy mumbles. He knows what he's doing.

"Jack it with your hand," my dad orders quietly. "Keep your mouth on it,
but go a little faster up and down the shaft. You know how to do it,
Scotty. Your dad told me you know what to do."

I hear a spit sound. Little soft boy spit. Then soft slicka-slicka sounds,
and mumbles and groans, as if the boy is working my dad with his hand, with
his mouth, with every skill he's got.

My own cock is ready to blow. "Jack him, Scotty," I say out loud. "Jack his
cock and swallow his cum."

"Oh yeah, Scotty," my dad moans. "Here it comes. Gonna feed your boy my
load now, Bobby."

I'm jacking my cock feverishly now, wanting to cum with my dad. Wanting to
blow my nut down this fifth-grader's throat at the same time. Time
machine. Mutual Cum shot. Ejaculation history lesson.

More moans. More slicka-slicka.

"Gonna hold your head down now, Scotty," my dad says breathlessly. "Gonna
hold your head down on it while I cum in your throat baby."

"Nnnnghhh," whimpers the boy.

"That's it. That's it."

More mumbled "mmmph" sounds from the boy.

"Cumming in him, Bobby. Cumming in his mouth now. Gonna make him swallow
it. Gonna make him...NNNGGGH!"

A high pitched boy whimper. A gag, A cough...

"Fuck," my dad whispers. "That's it baby. Eat it. Eat it all."

My own cock explodes. I moan out loud and let my ball load loose. I'm as
breathless as my father. I jack my cock and my cock fires upward. A rope of
thick cum that lands on my hand and my shirt. I cum at the same time my dad
blows jizz down Scotty's sweet throat. 42 years ago, and I cum with my
dad. I'm shaking. Breathless. Doc Brown's DeLorean. I cum with my dad,
imagining flooding Scotty's tonsils with my semen too.

I take Scotty's picture out of the cassette sleeve. Smiling fourth-grade
school picture. Brown-haired gap-toothed elementary school boy, smiling
innocently. Knowing he once had my dad's sperm in his stomach.

"So good. SO hot," I hear my dad say.

I wipe my cock cum on my hand. I nod and agree with him. "So fucking hot."

We shared in the experience, me and my dad. 42 years apart, we
double-gullet skull-fucked that boy.

"Good boy, Scotty," my dad praises the still-sputtering boy. "You got every
drop."

"It's goopy," his shaky voice says. "It's kinda real thick."

"Thicker than your dad's?" my dad asks him. "Thick like pudding?"

"Uh-huh," says the boy. "And strong too. Your nuts smell strong."

My dad chuckles. So do I. I remember those nuts.

"Good boy, Scotty," my dad praises again. "You did that real good."

A spitting sound. A cough.

"I need a drink of water," the boy says firmly. And I smile when I hear the
"ewww" sound in his voice. It took me a good long time to get used to my
dad's thick, strong semen too.

The recording stops abruptly. A click. Then it resumes. My dad's voice
comes on.

"Let's say hi to your dad on this recording okay, Scotty?"

"Okay."

"Say, Hi Daddy."

"Hi Daddy."

"Say, I ate Donny's cum."

"I ate Donny's cum."

"Say, I'm a good boy."

"I'm a good boy."

"Say, I'm a 10-year-old good boy cocksucker."

"I'm a 10-year-old good boy cocksucker."

"Say, I've got Donny's cum in my belly."

"I've got Donny's cum in my belly."

"Now say, I'm gonna let Donny fuck me now."

There is a long pause. A considerable consideration.

"Say it," my dad repeats. "Say, I'm gonna let Donny fuck me now."

A soft inhale and exhale from the boy. Building up his courage.

"I'm gonna let Donny fuck me now," he says with quiet obedience.

"Good boy, Scotty," my dad says soothingly. "Now come up here and give me
another kiss."

There are more sweet sounds. Silent sounds. Lip-clicking sounds. Tongues
and tasting sounds.

My dad whispers almost inaudibly, "I'm gonna suck your peter now, okay
Scotty?

The breathless boy: "Okay."

"I'm gonna suck your peter and put my finger up your butthole now, is that
okay?"

A pause from the boy. A kiss-clicky mouth moan. "Okay."

"I'm gonna finger your butt and get it ready for my cock in there, okay?"

A moan from the boy. Deciding. "Okay."

"Is your butthole really tight, baby?" my dad asks softly. "Can I get my
big finger in there?"

"Uh-huh," the boy says softly. "My dad puts it in there. He puts it all the
way in me."

"Good boy," my dad whispers. "Good boy, Scotty."

More moans. More kisses.

"What else does your dad put in your butthole, Scotty?"

A pause. A kiss moan.

"His peter too," the boy says quietly. "He puts his peter in me."

"Do you like his big peter in your butthole, Scotty? Do you like getting
fucked with your dad's big peter?"

There's no answer. Just more moans and kissing sounds and then suddenly
there's a high-pitched whimper. Almost a squeal. A snakelike A hiss. The
boy sucks in air quickly. I think my dad has pierced his anus with a
finger. I remember that fat spit-lubed finger going up my boy butt. The
boy's hiss doesn't surprise me.

There's soft whimpering. Then a boy moan. Then the kissing sounds resume.

"Gonna suck your boy's peter, Bobby," my dad breathes breathlessly. "Gonna
suck your boy's hard little missile, because you should see it now. You
should see how hard his little dickie is."

The boy moans.

"You want that, don't you, Scotty. You want me to suck your peter before I
fuck you."

The boy moans again. "Yes," he whimpers needily.

The kissing sounds continue.

"Gonna fuck your boy, Bobby. Gonna suck his little peter stick and fuck his
little butthole."

The boy makes more needy whimpering sounds.

"Gonna fuck him in the pussy hole."

My dad sounds growly and the boy sounds needy.

"Gonna turn this off now," my dad's voice says on the recording. "Gonna
turn this off, Bobby, while I butt fuck your boy."

The recording goes silent for a second. There's a shuffling, then some
movement. The a very loud groan from the boy. Loud and extended. His voice
moans out "Ohhhhhhh." A grunt. "NNNGH!" Then another "OHHHHH!"

Then the tape goes totally silent.

Audio ends. Nothing but white noise.

Whatever happened next between them, my dad didn't record it.

I sat there, breathless. Dumbfounded at what I'd just heard. This intimate,
impossible time machine.

My cock was rock hard again. I began to stroke it slowly. I closed my eyes
and imagined my dad fucking the boy. I looked at his picture. Sweet little
gap-toothed smile. And imagined my dad fucking his ass. And I closed my
eyes and spit on my palm, and jacked my cock, and I grunted and came. Came
again, just imagining.

I sit there with my sticky spent cock in my hand. I brought my finger to my
mouth and tasted my own semen, remembering with a full, grateful heart, the
taste of my dad's.

"I love you, Dad," I said breathlessly to an empty room. "I love it when
you fucked my butt."

I popped the cassette out of the old Panasonic. I didn't rewind it. Just
carefully placed it back in its case.

I returned it to the box and stared at the large, neat row of crystal
plastic cases. A treasure chest of lust and memories. Many more cassettes,
neatly lined up, just waiting there silently. All these years later, just
waiting for me to listen.

"It was always your dad's wish I'd send you these recordings after he
died," Bobby had written. "He wanted you to have them and know who he truly
was and understand the scope of his attraction to boys, and perhaps why
that all led him to his sexual relationship with you. He always feared he
hurt you with that. Ruined you in some way. He felt guilty, Scotty. He was
sorry for it, but he loved you, and he couldn't stop himself."

"Don't stop, Dad," I whispered with tears in my eyes. "Don't ever stop
loving me that way."

I closed my eyes and remembered him, in all the ways we used to be.

I picked up the second tape, closed my eyes and hugged it briefly to my
chest. A silly gesture, but one my heart needed to make.

"I love you, Dad," I said again quietly, remembering the feeling of his
thick, long penis in my small, sore boy bottom, and the stickiness of his
cum as it came dripping back out of me, and wondering what might possibly
be next on my father's cassettes.

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

TO BE CONTINUED
IN CASSETTE #2

# # # # # # # # # # # # # # #

Love,
Zach