Date: Sun, 12 May 2013 14:54:26 -0700 (PDT) From: Macout Mann <macoutmann@yahoo.com> Subject: Daddy's Pimp 1 This is a fictional story that involves overt sexual activity between males. If you find such offensive or if you are below the age that where you live the reading of such material is illegal, please read no further. Please let me know what you think of the story. Your reaction means a lot, whether positive or negative. I will respond to each email. Reach me at macoutmann@yahoo.com. Your donations are what keep nifty.org available and free. As Amos Winters, the famous televangelist in the story might have said, "Folks, if you want this good work to continue, we've got to hear from you." Copyright 2013 by Macout Mann. All rights reserved. DADDY'S PIMP by Macout Mann I Kyle lay back on the soft sofa, the fly of his jeans spread wide open, his rigid dick being lovingly massaged by the lips and tongue of his latest conquest. The guy's name was Conner. He was nineteen, a fine specimen, if Kyle did say so himself. He'd picked the boy up at a gay bar, where they weren't too zealous about detecting fake IDs. "So what have we here?" a voice demanded. Conner almost swallowed Kyle's tool, before pulling away in panic. "Calm down, dude," Kyle consoled him. "It's only my dad. He's o.k." Conner looked up to see a completely naked older man coming toward them. Almost fifty years old, but in such good shape only his more mature features indicated that he wasn't the same age as his son. "Yes, don't let me interrupt," he cooed. "I'd like to join in." This was a scene that had been repeated many times. Kyle and his father didn't try to keep count how often. Roger Winters was President and CEO of the Foundation for Morality in Public Life. It could hardly become known that he was also a gay sex addict. So with his son's help he was able to satisfy his cravings for young men in secret. Only Kyle and his mother were aware of the dark goings-on in the basement den of the family's mansion on Jones Boulevard. Roger was brought up in a moralistic, if not moral environment. His father had been a Pentecostal preacher who had deserted the pulpit first for the microphone and then for the television camera. Preaching to millions was infinitely more rewarding than preaching to a hundred or so. Financially rewarding, that is. Growing up Roger had lacked for nothing. His father, like some better known televangelists, also had urges he couldn't or didn't want to control. When he was thirteen, Roger inadvertently spied his father offering his nine plus holy inches to one of his faithful female followers, no doubt in exchange for a generous contribution to the work of the Lord. The sight made Roger's rod, which up to that time he had vainly tried to keep under control, spring to attention and remain so until the lad had sinned and fallen mightily short. Naturally, what he had seen bothered Roger a lot. He didn't have a close relationship with his father, but Roger decided he had to have answers. He would have to talk to his father. He proceeded as obliquely as possible. "Daddy," he began, "I saw something I shouldn't have." "Oh?" "Yes sir, I saw someone having sex with a woman. I didn't intend to. It just happened." "Well, son, that sort of thing should be done in private, as I'm sure you know. But husbands and wives do have sexual intercourse. That's the way babies are made." "Yes sir, but this wasn't a husband and wife." "Well that's different." The preacher paused for the longest time. "But I'd just try to forget about it if I were you." That was too much for young Roger. "I can't forget about it," he blurted. "Daddy, the man was you!" "Well, that is entirely different," his father slowly exclaimed. He sat down next to his son and continued, "I should have had a talk with you before now, son. And now, I think I must be...shall I say...more frank than I might have before." Roger's father made swift work of the usual birds-and-bees lecture. He needed to get to the real basics. "Men and women too have desires, desires that God gave them. Some of us have stronger desires, greater needs than others. And God doesn't frown on our satisfying our needs. "Obviously, I couldn't go on t.v. and tell the world these things" he emphasized. "The religious bigots just wouldn't stand for it. They want everybody to be uptight. But you understand what I'm saying, don't you, Roger?" Roger understood all too well. He was now free from the need to keep his dick in his pants. He hadn't been sinning after all. And there were other ways that he could "not sin." Roger was sent to high school at a very exclusive boarding school, where none of the students would have any idea that he was the son of Brother Amos Winters, the famous televangelist. Most wouldn't even have heard of his father. And there were a few coeds and lots of girls in the neighboring town that became very attracted to what hung between Roger's legs. Back home he also found a couple of girls in the local congregation that could be persuaded that the Lord didn't care if their pussies were penetrated. His father decreed that he must attend a church-related college. Since most of his prep school buddies were headed for big name universities, he was sorely pissed that he would have to go to a Pentecostal University in South Carolina. But once there he found that it wasn't so bad. Lots of really religious girls seemed to have those same yearnings his father had told him about six years earlier. It was in his senior year that he developed a serious relationship with Margaret Beane. She was a local girl who attended the university. She had an older brother, Willie, who still lived at home. And off campus she was a real free thinker, like Roger had become. Still, he was totally shocked, when she announced one evening that Willie was gay and that she'd like to watch Roger and her brother have sex. "That's the grossest thing I ever heard!" Roger shouted. Roger's father never mentioned homosexual desires. In fact, Roger had never thought seriously about homosexuality. At prep school guys would sometime tease about gay things, but that was just kidding around. Surely there were no gay guys at the college. But then Willie had graduated from there, hadn't he? "Don't be silly," Marge answered. "You get me to suck you off. No reason not to let Willie do it. You agree that our fucking's not a sin. `What's good for the goose is good for the gander.'" She kept at Roger for weeks, even after he had proposed, saying at one time "I'm not going to marry you, unless you let me watch you fuck Willie." Then one day on the internet he chanced on a gay porn site. He started to click on the red "x," but then didn't. What he saw began to change his attitude. And a couple of weeks later when her parents were out of town, as he and Marge were lying together, a naked Willie came into the room. "Can I join the fun?" he asked. "Why not?" Marge giggled. "You climb in, and I'll go sit over there." It had obviously been planned. Before Roger could say a word, Willie had slipped into bed with him and cupped his cock in his ample palm. "You might as well give up, Roger," he said. "Sis is determined to have us do this." He paused, then added, "And I'm hot to get with you too." There was a minimum of foreplay. Roger was already hard as a steel spike. Willie gobbled him up, and Roger had never felt as great a sensation. Over the next hour and a half as the two men experienced each other's bodies, Roger was hooked. Six weeks later Roger Winters and Margaret Beane both received their Bachelor of Arts degrees. Three months after that they were married in a ceremony attended by over seven hundred and fifty well wishers. Not quite ten months later Kyle Winters was born. Marge's father was the founder of the Foundation for Morality in Public Life. Roger happily accepted his father-in-law's offer to become a Resident Research Fellow, a position Willie also held. That made it very convenient for the brothers-in-law to have daily sex.