Date: Sun, 21 Jan 2007 01:55:50 -0800 (PST)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Young Stud, Part Thirteen

YOUNG  STUD

By Pete Brown   petebrownuk @ yahoo.com

Read all of Pete's stories at
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticstories

Part  Thirteen


"NO, boss, please....", I begged.  I couldn't bear the
thought of having to expose my asshole to my dad.

"Do as you're told!", he rapped.  "Your sale is far
from certain....."

Well, what could I do?  I spread my feet a little - I
have to, to touch the floor, as with a muscled body
like mine it's not so easy to touch the floor with
your feet together, especially as the boss insists on
Jeff and me doing it with our palms on the floor, and
not just our fingertips, when we were training.

I felt the boss's hands pulling my butt cheeks apart.
"See, Mr Masters - I have him shave down here of
course, as when he is studding it is inevitable that
glimpses of this delight make themselves seen by the
audience.  But observe that in spite of the rather
heavy usage that he has had, the sphincter is nice and
tight, and ready to welcome any man...."

"What do you mean, sir?  'Rather heavy usage'?  Steve
is straight - in fact his mother and I worried
perpetually about him knocking up some girl at high
school or college...."

"You certainly should have been worried, Mr Masters -
Steve is exceptionally virile.  A lot of my studding
customers reported back that Steve's cum 'took' much
more often than expected, and you have more than a
hundred grandchildren by now.... But then Jeff
discovered sex with men, and now, I think you'll find,
his preference is man-on-man sex.  And his former
partner, Jeff, had a very large penis:  Steve's
sphincter took a real battering whenever he was being
fucked by Jeff."

"Sir, you must be joking....", dad almost spluttered.
"A hundred grandchildren?  And Steve enjoying male
sex?"

"Not at all.  Think about it - he has been used as a
stud for two years or so, and generally several times
a week.  So perhaps he has studded four hundred to
five hundred times, and if we think of the percentage
conceptions, as most owners of the bitches ensure he
is used at their fertile period....  then we need to
allow for the aborting of the females, as owners
mostly require males as they are more versatile when
grown.... A hundred is not at all unlikely.  You are a
lucky man, sir, to have your genes spread so widely:
not many men have the opportunity to see their sons
perpetuate the family line like that.  And as for the
sex with men - well, my suspicion is that Steve is one
of those men who always 'conformed', who saw their
buddies at school talking about sex with the girls,
may even have seen them doing it, and who simply went
along with it.  He's good at it, too - I have enjoyed
watching him at stud.  But once he had discovered the
delights of sex with men, I think his ardour for
studding went away a little."

"NO, sir, Steve would never willingly have sex with
another man.  You must have forced him..."

"Far from it!  Only this morning I discovered he had
forcibly fucked a young Mexican slave, against the
boy's will.  And when he was with his partner, the
Jeff he keeps on about, it was spectacular.  And don't
you think that's why he's so worried about Jeff?  It's
not just his buddy - it's his lover.  Anyway, once
he's yours you can discuss, and indeed control, his
sexuality further.  In the meantime you need to
examine his anus...."

"Certainly not!"

"I'm afraid I insist.  I do not want the possibility
of you repudiating the sale later on the basis that
his anus is torn or damaged, and so he is unsuitable
for sex."

"That is nonsense!  I have no intention of repudiating
the sale, on any grounds.  And the state of his anus
will in future be irrelevant to any consideration of
sex...."

"I expect you're right - Steve does not really enjoy
taking cock, and he prefers to 'top' the other man, I
believe.  So if you give him some choice, I doubt that
his anus will see much use. But, nevertheless, I
insist you at least make a token gesture to examine
him properly.  I will not look at how much of how many
fingers you insert into him, but I could, with a clear
conscience, tell a Court that you did finger him if
you did at least touch him there...  Without that, the
sale cannot proceed."

Standing there, rather uncomfortable, my face flushing
as my head was down, let alone from listening to the
conversation as the boss and my dad talked about my
asshole, it seemed surreal.  But then I  almost jumped
a mile, as something touched my asshole - it could
only be dad's finger!   I could hardly believe it -
especially when he scratched around a bit, causing me
to move uneasily,  shifting my weight around.  And
then, mercifully, it was over.

"I assume he is satisfactory?", I heard the boss ask.

"I suppose so - I have no experience of this."

"Well I earnestly recommend that you ensure the slave
keeps himself perfectly clean down there - he is
trained in administering enemas.  Now please examine
his thighs - I am rather pleased with the way that my
programme of making him run long distances has
strengthened them and given them a lot of power - it
was particularly useful when studding, as a lot of
thrust comes form the thighs.  And of course with
another man, power is essential to force the dick
home..."

Dad said nothing, but I felt his hands running down my
thighs, from my butt crack almost to my knees.  My
face was burning with shame, and then the boss ordered
"Lift your leg, Steve - end the left leg back from the
knee, so we can feel your calf."

So I had to stand there, wobbling a bit on one leg, as
the boss and dad commented on the muscles in my calf,
and the boss complimented dad on evidently allowing me
to go barefoot a lot of the time as a kid, as my toes
were so straight.  I hated being talked about like
this, and, to make it worse, dad even seemed to be
entering into the spirit of the thing and actually
asked the boss questions about my exercise regime,
diet, and so on.

The words I was dreading came then, though.  Well, I
thought I would dread them, as I was ordered to turn
around and face the two men.  I had not wanted to
expose my dick to dad, but after he'd fingered my ass,
it no longer seemed so important.

The boss insisted dad feel all around inside my mouth,
to make sure there were no loose teeth, or ulcers, and
as he did so my nose was assailed by the smell of the
soap he always used - it took me right back to
childhood, when he'd popped some sweet or something
into my mouth and I smelled the faint aromatic scent
of his skin next to my nose.

Dad asked the boss about the tattoo on my jaw line,
and the boss's view was that this was sufficiently
small that it might be possible to remove it.  "After
all, Steve's SIN is clearly tattooed all over the
inside of his forearm, too", he added, "and so you
would not be breaking the law that requires SINs to be
visible - provided, that is, you never let him wear a
long-sleeved shirt.  Many owners prefer the jaw line
as it gives you more flexibility in dressing the
slave...."

The boss was justifiably proud of my pecs and nips,
and now dad had to run his hands over them, and he
even agreed that I was better developed than when he
had last seen me.  But for some reason his hands
lingered over my nips, and I knew they were going hard
and thrusting at his palms.  Finally, dad commented on
this to the boss, who just shrugged and said "I told
you Steve was a really sexy man:  it's a sure sign
that a man is interested in sex when his nipples erect
when touched."

The boss actually asked dad where I'd been born, as he
said that he'd always been impressed by the very neat
way that my belly button was tied off, and dad's hand
was running across the plane of my belly now, and he
in turn complimented the boss on ensuring that I was
so wonderfully strong there.

Both men stood there then, as the boss looked at dad.
"The final stretch, then  - please examine the penis
for blemishes:  I had the finest veterinarian 'skin
him so there's absolutely no scarring, and when you
erect him you'll see the shaft is wondrously smooth.
And you should squeeze each testicle gently to satisfy
yourself that they are genuine:  it's not unknown for
unscrupulous owners to have a slave castrated and then
fill his sac with prosthetic balls to maintain 'the
look' - a gentle squeeze, so you can see his reaction,
is generally sufficient to ensure they're genuine."

"But why did you have his foreskin removed?"

"Market forces, really:  my customers preferred to
'see' a stud fully, and are interested in observing
his cock head before studding.  And I personally
prefer it, and so although Steve did not have a long
foreskin, I decided to have it removed about a year
ago."

Dad looked distinctly nervous as he reached down for
my dick - not as nervous as I was, I can tell you - or
as ashamed, and embarrassed.  And the boss told dad to
stroke me to erection, as it was impossible to examine
my shaft properly in a relaxed state.

Look, I don't know if you've ever had your dad holding
your erect dick in the palm of his hand, but it's very
odd.  I mean, it's bad enough having an older guy
playing with your dick, but when it's your dad, well,
that's something else.  And then it was as if dad was
used to feeling a guy's balls, as he seemed to be
every bit as expert as some of the stud customers at
"weighing" them in the palm of his hand, and then
gently rolling each one between thumb and forefinger.


When, on prompting form the boss, he gently squeezed
my left ball I actually cried out, to which the boss
nodded, and said "Genuine!".  But when dad's fingers
started to feel for my right ball, I couldn't bear the
tension - well, you'll all know what I mean, with your
balls so very sensitive.  I was anticipating the
"squeeze", and couldn't help moving away from dad's
fingers, totally involuntarily.

"Steady!", the boss snapped.  "It will soon be over,
Steve."  And then to dad "Go ahead, please...."

Well dad was nervous too, now, and it wasn't so much a
 gentle squeeze as a rather sharp pinch, and I
actually screamed.

"Satisfied, Mr Masters?", the boss asked.

"Oh yes, of course.  I'll just sign....."

"No - you are buying this slave who is described in
the contract as 'fully functioning' and 'suitable for
stud and other sexual purposes'.  Before you can sign,
we will have to see Steve using his sexual apparatus."


I stood there wondering what was going to happen, and
the boss led dad over to one of the couches, and the
two men sat side by side.  "Come over here, Steve, and
kneel in front of us", the boss called.  "I think you
find it easier to masturbate kneeling down, rather
than standing up?"

I began to panic.  I mean it's bad enough being naked
in front of your dad when you're twenty one, and to
have him "inspect" your body.  But to have to jerk off
in front of him - well, I mean, I assume dad knew I
did jerk off, as all young guys do.  But it's not the
sort of thing you talk about together, is it?  And you
certainly don't do it together.

But there didn't seem to be much choice.  I walked
very slowly across the room to where the two men sat,
trying not to let my dick jerk up and down (it was
still almost hard from where dad had stroked it).  I
knelt in front of them, and at once the boss snapped
"You know how I like to see you kneeling!  Knees
spread, your butt resting on your heels, back
straight, head bowed...."

Well, at least my head was going to be bowed - there's
no way I could look at them whilst I was trying to
jerk off.  But as my butt touched down onto my heels,
I was almost consumed with the unpleasant sensation as
my slippered ass protested.  There was no postponing
it, though, was there?  So I began to tease my dick,
letting my thumb strike the flange, and occasionally
raking the piss slit with a finger nail.  I tried to
think of all the sexy thoughts I could - of all the
bitches I'd fucked, but the recurring images that kept
coming to mind was of Coon's lovely big ass, and of
Jeff, both fucking away with me.  And then that
thought cleared, and it was only Jeff - and as soon as
I began to remind myself of how fantastic it was to
have this big, strong man totally in my power,
skewered on my dick, things began to happen:  my dick
went rock solid, and I started to grunt softly in time
with my strokes.  Somehow, just as when I fucked Jeff
for a "demonstration" in front of a lot of other guys,
once I'd got started the world kind of closed down
around me, and all I had was the sensation from my
dick, and my own erotic imagination.

"Catch it!", the boss shouted, and I realised I was
about to shoot.  Almost instinctively I put my hand up
and felt the hot splash of cum strike my palm.  Then I
had to look down, and try to stop the stuff leaking
through my fingers onto the rich carpet of the hotel
suite.

I rested there, my chest heaving and sweat pouring off
me as it had been a really intense session, and as I
looked down at the palm of my hand I was actually
quite proud of the amount of cum I'd managed to
produce - especially considering that I'd only fucked
Juan an hour or so before!  There's not a lot of guys
who can produce a big quantity so quickly, but then, I
suppose I really am fit and virile, so it helps!

"Present it, Steve", the boss said quietly, breaking
into my reverie.

I knew I had no choice, so now I had to raise my head
and look at the two men who sat in front of me, both
of whom were staring at me intently.  The boss
gestured, and I realised he wanted me to raise my hand
filled with cum up towards them.  I had been hot and
sweaty form the effort of jerking off, but now I felt
the heat flooding my cheeks in embarrassment and shame
as dad peered down at my cum, and the boss said
quietly "Satisfactory, Mr Masters?  Young Steve here
had sex only just before we set out, so I think this
is very impressive.... You can see why he is such a
good stud....  That's one of the reasons why you have
all those grandchildren...."

It was too much.  A guy shouldn't have to let his dad
see how much he can shoot!  The nearest we'd ever got
to this was when I was about fourteen, and dad had
come into my bedroom unexpectedly as I had been
jerking off.  I was right on the edge, and couldn't
stop - even though I let go of my dick under the
bedclothes, I began to shoot, and dad looked at me
very strangely as I lay there trying not to move and
make it obvious I was trying to catch my cum without
disturbing the sheets.  I failed miserably, and then
it was even more embarrassing as I knew mom would find
the hard patches on them when she changed them the
next week.  I tried to avoid it by changing my own bed
and taking the sheets down to the laundry room, but
mom and dad saw me do this and both laughed, making
jokes to each other about how I must be getting to be
a man, to want to help around the house like that.

But now here I was with a palm full of cum, and my dad
staring at it.  He seemed somehow interested and
muttered to the boss "Indeed... Most spectacular...
In fact, a chip off the old block... I remember how I
was at his age."

"OK, Steve.  We've seen enough - get rid of it", the
boss ordered.

I went to get up to go and get some toilet tissue or
something to clean my hand, but the boss sent an icy
chill down my spine as he added "Lick it up, so your
new owner can see that you're used to the taste of
cum."

"Please, no...."

"Steve, obey me!  You've never been worried about
taking my cum, so why should your own cause you a
problem?  Now, do as I command, or it's off to the
auction for you."

Well, what could I do?  I raised my hand towards my
face and slurped it down, then licked my palm and
fingers clean, all the time blushing furiously.

"Steve ate your cum?", I heard dad ask.

"Certainly!  With Steve and Jeff, it seemed pointless
to pay some whore bitch to come in and relieve my
tensions - and there's no difference between a man or
a woman blowing you, is there?  Indeed, like a lot of
men I've spoken to, I find I prefer a man with his
lips around my cock - he does a better job, I find, as
he had practical experience of knowing what it feels
like.  Both Steve and Jeff are most satisfactory cock
suckers...  And of course you want the slave to eat
your cum as you want your cock left nice and clean,
and with no cum leaking out and soiling your pubic
hair, or your boxers."

"But my son... Eating your cum...."

"Mr Masters, as I keep explaining, it was not your son
- it was, and is, my slave!  You will find that the
slave called Steve is a very different person from the
boy you call Stephen.  He has lived for two years as a
stud, lived very close to another stud, discovered
ways of using his body to please men that he would
have perhaps never been aware of.   I do earnestly
counsel you to think again, very seriously about
buying this slave:  he will never be your son again in
the eyes of the law as I have explained;  and in terms
of his personality he will never be the 'Stephen' you
raised and nurtured - all that has gone, to be
replaced by the new, hard, Steve, sure of his
sexuality and unashamed of displaying it, as we have
already seen."

"No, I can't leave Stephen to this life of depravity.
We will learn to live together again, as a proper
family..."

"Well, Mr Masters, do not say that you have not been
warned.  But perhaps a further demonstration of how
things have changed is called for - I think I would
like to feel Steve's lips on my cock one last time
before he is no longer mine:  as I said, he has very
considerable skills as a cock sucker, and I will miss
them, I think.  I propose that he should pleasure me,
and then proceed to do the same to you - once you have
experienced his abilities, I doubt you will feel the
same way about him...."

I listened in dumb horror.  I mean I didn't
particularly object to sucking the boss's dick, as I'd
done so many times before.  It would be a bit more
difficult, with dad watching.  But what the boss was
now proposing was utterly disgusting, totally vile...
I mean, I'd hardly ever seen dad's dick, and now the
boss was suggesting I should blow him.

"Absolutely not!", dad exploded.  "I have never heard
of such a thing.  Although I am divorced, I was a
happily married man, and there's no way I am going to
receive a blow job from another man."

"It's your loss, Mr Masters.  As I said, statistics
show that most men prefer another man, once they have
experienced it.  After all, how can a woman possibly
know what it feels like when your cock is caressed by
the lips and tongue?  But I think I will avail myself
one last time, as I said."  The boss looked at me
calmly, pointed at his crotch, and said "Steve... Get
to work!  And make sure not one drop of cum falls on
this suit."

Almost numb with shock I shuffled forward until I was
between the boss's outstretched legs, and rested my
hands on his knees in the way he liked (but without
putting my weight on them). I put my head forward and
nuzzled his cock gently through the fabric of his
suit, then moved back, pulled down his zip, and
gently, oh so gently, eased the boss's dick out
through his fly.  He was half erect already, and as
soon as I kissed his dick head and let my tongue flick
sensuously to touch the sensitive areas just under the
head, he became totally hard.

Look, I don't need to describe how to suck a guy's
cock to you in detail, do I?  I was used to the boss,
and he was used to me, and after a few seconds I
totally forgot dad was watching me as I did as I had
been taught.  And, of  course, it was no problem to
swallow all his cum as the boss never produced all
that much - I wondered if my flow would dry up like
that as I got to be old.

The boss tucked his dick away himself, leaned back and
gave a contented sigh, and ruffled my hair gently as I
knelt there still.  "I'll miss you, Steve", he said.
Then, turning to dad, asked casually "Are you sure you
haven't changed your mind?"

"Certainly not!"

"Well then, we may as well sign the contracts now.  Do
you have the certified cheque with you for the
payment?"

I knelt there as dad and the boss both signed both
copies of the agreements, then took one each, and dad
handed over a cheque to the boss, which he examined
cursorily, folded once, and put into his calf skin
wallet.  Both men shook hands, and dad came over to
me.

"Get up, Stephen.  I've got some proper clothes with
me, and you can dress sensibly again and not go
displaying yourself to everyone...."

"If you would be advised by me, Mr Masters....", the
boss began.  "...that would be a bad idea.  I have
pointed out that you are in effect breaking the law by
buying a slave who was formerly related to you.  There
is indeed some family resemblance between you and
Steve, and yet it is clear that you are a free man,
and the SIN on Steve's jaw line, which is impossible
to disguise, marks him out as a slave.  If you dress
him in free men's clothes, it will draw attention to
the fact that your slave looks like you, and questions
might be asked.  As a lawyer, any prosecution of you
for breaking the slavery laws would be bound to be
looked on unfavourably by the Bar Association, and you
might have to pay an enormous fine to the Courts, and
then find yourself without a livelihood.  I would
advise you to keep Steve dressed as a slave - he's
used to it, and there's no harm in it - indeed, you
might think of yourself as spreading a little
happiness in the world, as other men get the
opportunity to feast their eyes on Steve's handsome
body."

I don't think dad liked the last bit of the boss's
remarks, but he saw me nodding generally in agreement,
so told me to get dressed - and, as you know, that
hardly takes a moment when all you've got is a T,
shorts and slave sandals.  Dad and the boss then shook
hands, and I went to do the same.  The boss looked at
me "You're still a slave, Steve, even though you're
not my slave.  And free men do not shake hands with
slaves."

With that he turned and walked out of the suite, dad
fiddled around packing a few things into his overnight
case, and we turned to leave.  "Sir....", I began.
"You'd better let me carry that case - it would be a
dead give-away if you carried your own case and had a
slave with you."

"Stephen, you don't need to call me 'sir' - I'm your
father!"

"Dad.... It's hard.... But, look, we're going to be
going around together, and you heard what the boss
said about us looking alike and all that... Well, if
anyone heard me calling you 'dad' they'd be on to us,
and I don't want you to be enslaved for breaking the
law!  It's best if I act like a slave, I reckon, all
the time, and that means being respectful to you.  So
I'll call you 'sir', all the time, even when we're
alone, and that way I'll be used to it."

There was a twinkle in dad's eye as he muttered "Good
thinking, Stephen.  And it will be nice to have some
respect from you - that was sadly lacking in your last
years at home."

"Sir...", I hesitated, as a slave does, waiting for
acknowledgement.  "Sir, perhaps you should call me
'Steve' - that's what's tattooed all over my back."

Dad nodded, and we went out of the suite and down to
the garage ,where dad had a hire car.  He went to
drive, and I suggested I should, as that's what slaves
do.  Then when he went to sit in the front seat, I had
to point out to him that owners were meant to enjoy
the luxury of the whole of the rear to themselves, so
he shrugged and got in the back.

With dad's permission I drove straight to the gay bar,
but when we got there the solitary barman who had
arrived told us that a slave transporter had been by
earlier and had "collected the big gay white guy and
the young Mexican" and  "no, he didn't know which
slave transporter, but he thought it was one of the
big companies like UPS."

Dad tried calling some of the big companies on his
cell, but all he got was the stonewall reply that
"They couldn't discuss a delivery except with the
client", and so that seemed to be that.  Dad sat there
in the back and said "Head out of town, and we'll pick
up the interstate - it's a long way to Florida."

"Sir, please... We can't leave Jeff..."

"And I've told you, Steve, that I am not going to buy
another slave, so the fate of Jeff is unimportant.
Not under any circumstances.  So hit the road."

I tried pleading and begging, and dad finally lost his
temper and told me that he'd call the SP if I didn't
obey him.  Well, I think he was bluffing, as I could
tell them that he had bought me illegally, but I
wasn't about to risk it as he was after all my dad, so
we headed out of town.

"Please, sir, why Florida?"

"You heard your old owner, Steve:  the 'no slave' zone
between here and the North.  I was going to drive us
home, but now that's not possible, we're going to find
one of those slave smugglers in Miami."

I took a couple of days, and I can still remember some
of the incidents on the way.  For example, the first
few times we stopped to eat, dad didn't realise that
he and I would have to go to different parts of the
restaurant unless the place had a shared eating
facility.  And then, when we were in one of those
places, a woman at the next table with a young slave
boy with her who looked really miserable (could it be
the love bite marks all around his slender neck, I
wondered - she looked very predatory and he was so
young) seemed shocked when she heard dad discussing
the menu with me.  I leaned forward and whispered
"Just order for me, sir... A slave doesn't
choose....", as I pointed to the woman who was still
looking at us suspiciously.

Later that day we were at one of the rest stops on the
Interstate and dad got chatting to the owner of a cute
young nigga bitch - she and I simply stood there, but
I could see her looking at my body admiringly.  Dad
finished his coffee and was about to get back into the
car when the other guy said casually "Fine looking
slave you've got there - it's unusual to see a whitey
as handsome as that boy.  He must have cost a packet."

Dad nodded, and the guy went on "You wouldn't consider
letting him stud my bitch, would you?  She's in
season, and a fine handsome boy like your slave would
be just the thing to produce a really nice pup..."

"Certainly not!"

"You sound like a Northerner, sir!  You come down
here, buy up a good-looking slave, and then don't
extend traditional Southern courtesies....  I suppose
you're a fag, and you're slamming that boy's ass:
you fags just can't get to grips with breeding...."

"Now hold on!"  Dad sounded very angry.  "Yes, I am
from the North, and I did indeed buy this slave.  But
I wasn't aware of these' courtesies' as you call them.
 And I most certainly am not a fag!  How dare you!"

"Perhaps I have been overly hasty, sir.  But down here
if a man has a nice-looking bitch like mine, and
another man has a fine looking boy like yours, then
it's generally considered polite, if the bitch's owner
wants to breed her, to offer the use of the stud if
asked.  After all, it will only take a few minutes,
and the boy is not harmed in any way.  In fact, I
reckon, looking at the way your boy is aroused, that
you'd better let him stud her or else he'll be uppity
for the rest of the day...."

Both men looked at me, and I was very conscious of the
bulge at the front of my shorts.  It's not that I
wanted to fuck the bitch, but having this guy talk to
dad about the possibility of being used was really
turning me on:  it might make dad realise something of
the life I'd been leading.

Dad seemed very hesitant, and the guy went on "Well a
real slave owner would be glad to let his boy work out
some of his spunk...."

I saw dad hesitate again, then look at me, and I
nodded faintly.  "Thank you, sir, I can see I've got a
lot to learn about Southern ways", he told the guy
"As you say, it will take only a few minutes."  He
turned to me and said "Steve, go with this gentleman
and do as he says."

"Oh come, come, sir!  Surely you'll want to watch your
boy in action?  My bitch is not unattractive, and most
slave owners would want to see a boy like yours
perform."

I could see dad thinking that he might be perceived as
not being a "proper" slave owner, so he muttered "Of
course..." To the other guy.

He led us away from the parking lot to picnic area,
told his bitch to lie on one of the picnic tables, and
told me to get stuck in.  I didn't bother to take off
my T, just dropped my shorts, stroked my dick to get
it hard, and went over to the bitch.  She wore only a
short tunic which I pushed up to expose her, then
simply fucked her - she must have bee turned on by me
as she was nicely wet even before I started.

As I stood there "mechanically" fucking her and not
really interested, I thought about how strange it was
that here I was, fucking an attractive bitch, and that
at one time that would have been the height of my
ambition for the day, to get inside a girl's pants.
But now that I was actually doing it, it was, frankly,
boring:  I was glad when my body's normal reactions
took over and I could shoot my load into her.

Afterwards I walked back to the car carrying my shorts
as my dick was all slimed up from her juices and my
cum, and I did not want to have to spend the rest of
the time in stained shorts.  Some of the other folk in
the parking lot just stared, and a group of college
boys gave a big cheer as I went past, but I ignored it
all - I had, after all, appeared in front of people
nude so often now that it no longer mattered to me.

Back at the car I used toilet tissue to wipe my dick,
then dressed.   I saw dad take a forty new dollar bill
from the guy, and then he came and sat in the car and
told me to drive off.  He was smiling faintly, and
said "Well, Stephen, I never thought I'd earn money
from you like that!"

He saw I was silent, uncaring, and went on "Look, son,
I'm proud of you - a man likes to think his son enjoys
sex, proper sex, that is.  When your previous owner
told me about the way that you and this Jeff had been
carrying on, I was very worried in case I'd got a fag
for a son.  But you've set my mind at rest - not a lot
of men could have fucked that bitch so hard, and so
diligently."

"Sir... Dad... Sir.... You've got it all wrong.  I
fucked the bitch as I'm a stud.  That's what I do.
Anyone can fuck a bitch.  But I didn't enjoy it, not
one little bit.  I got no excitement from it at all.
But when I fuck Jeff, or Jeff fucks me, that's
different:  man on man sex IS the real thing, sir...
It's thrilling ,exciting, totally erotic, a complete
turn on...  That's what I want to do, dad, and that's
all I want to do."

End Of Part Thirteen