Date: Sat, 27 Oct 2007 19:50:47 +0000
From: Christian . <xangel@hotmail.com>
Subject: Best Man

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and is intended only as a
stimulant. It is not intended nor should it be read by anyone under 18
years of age. The practices and relationships in this story are purely
fictional and are not intended to resemble realism. If you are offended
by male-male dad/son sex, then stop now! However, if this stuff turns you
on - READ ON and let me know what you think!

            It was what most people called a youthful indiscretion. I'd
met a girl at a party when I was seventeen and stupid and three months
later, she told me she was pregnant. Her mother called my mother and
soon, we were planning a wedding that I wanted no part of. I didn't love
the girl and in all honesty, I wasn't even attracted to her. It was beer
and several shots of flaming vodka that made her much more attractive
that she would have been had I been sober. But all that didn't matter on
the twenty-third day of November when we were sequestered in the small
rooms of the church, each of us getting ready and waiting for the
sanctuary to fill with all our various relatives.

            I was in a small room roughly the size of a walk-in closet
thinking how men always get shafted on this wedding crap. We don't get
to pick out so much as a single flower, we have no say in the colors of
our tuxes and we're shooed away like flies if we try to voice an
opinion. Then, we get the shaft again when it comes to these "ready
rooms". It blows to be a groom in a wedding and it's doubly worse if
you don't want to be a groom to a woman, at all.

            Standing, looking out at the big magnolia tree in the
church's courtyard, this was the stuff that I thought about on my
wedding day. I didn't give a damn about anything that was going to
happen today except maybe the reception where I could get sloshed and not
have to "perform" on our honeymoon. Hell -- the whole reason for a
honeymoon, we'd done four months ago.

            The air conditioner kicked on and I felt a cool rush of air
along my bare legs and inner thighs. My shirt tail covered my bare ass
and it rustled a bit but didn't move. Bracing my hands on the window
frame, I asked myself again why I was doing this.

            "Hey, sport!"

            I turned to see my dad coming in with my black suit pants in
his hand, fresh from being ironed by my aunt Gabby. He held them out in
front of him like a pagan offering and then laid them across the only
chair in the room. The wing-backed thing looked like it was some kind of
hellish alter now, holding my sacred pants -- the same one I'd walk to
my upcoming funeral...uh, wedding...in.

            "Hey, dad," I said lamely, standing my ground by the
window. "Thanks for bringing those in for me."

            "How are you holding up, son?"

            Dad swept his suit coat aside and put his large hands on his
narrow hips. Under a thick blond mustache, his upper lip was completely
hidden but it moved aside to show the hint of teeth. He looked at me with
eyes the color of new steel and I felt a little jump in my throat like I
always did before I answered a question from him.

            "Not so good, dad." I answered honestly, feeling my
eyebrows go up. "I'm just not all that sure on what's going on here. I
don't want to do this."

            He crossed the room to me and opened his arms. All the macho,
"boys-don't-cry" bullshit fell away as I let my dad take me in his
strong arms like I did when I was twelve. I didn't care if the world
knew that I needed my daddy. I held onto him tightly as he rubbed his
strong hands along my back in a soothing gesture. He didn't say a word
but being pressed up against him like this was a deep comfort for me.
Strangely, this small action started clearing my head a little. Comfort
in this stressful minute let me think through what was happening.

            "It'll work itself out, son." Dad finally said as his
right hand settled on my hip.

            For a moment, I didn't even feel his left hand -- which had
settled lower. All I heard were his words and the soft, warm breath on my
neck as he spoke them. There was a warmth that was spreading through me
from a different place as he continued to talk to me. His left hand had
rounded over my bare ass and was holding me. I felt each of his fingers
on me, their length, their rough pads, their heat -- all spread through
me.

            "You're going to be fine, son." Dad said to me, his mouth
inches from my neck.

            "Fine?" I asked, his hand on my skin like a firebrand.
"This is going to ruin my life, getting married to this girl. I don't
love her, dad...I don't even know her. Sure, she's having my kid but
damn..."

            I was holding onto my dad for what seemed like dear life. I
felt like if I let go of him, I'd slip into some deep hole somewhere and
not come back. I poured out my heart to him, telling him every fear and
every concern I had about this whole thing. I couldn't stop talking, it
seemed -- and the more I talked, the tighter I held him. His hands
didn't move as he held me back.

            "I know how you feel, son." He said softly.

            I leaned back to look him in the face. "You do?"

            "I was in the exact same position when I was seventeen. Your
mother and I had no business doing what we did to get your sister."

            Standing in that small room, Dad told me of how he'd messed
around too early with my mom and nine months later, the result was
brought crying and screaming into the world. He told me all of this with
a smile on his face. He explained that it wasn't that my sister was
unwanted but that the timing was just not as good as it could have been.
They struggled and penny-pinched their way through her first six years
until my mom got an associate professor's job at a local university and
dad landed his foreman position at a construction site that later led to
his owning the site. He told me that was when they decided to have me.

            "Children are a beautiful thing, baby." He said, his right
hand stroking my cheek. "You're going to make a great father."

            "It's the husband part I'm not so sure about." I
admitted.

            Looking into my dad's steely eyes, I saw something pass in
them that I didn't recall ever seeing before. I couldn't really put my
finger on what that was but when I leaned forward, it was his lips that I
was drawn to. It could have been the moment we were both caught up in but
I kissed him, hard. I didn't wait for him to refuse, I pushed my lips
onto his and held him tighter to me. I was sure as I moved my mouth
against him that he'd shove me had away from him but he didn't.

            His mouth opened against mine and his tongue slid sweet into
me. My lips closed on it and I started to suck on its silky hardness. I
realized then that I still held him tightly and he still held me with his
left hand. It was that hand that I felt squeeze me ever so slightly and I
moaned against my father's mouth.

            "Dad?" I questioned softly as the kiss ended.

            He didn't say a word as he reached behind me with his right
hand and pulled the heavy drapes closed over the window, shutting out the
light, the magnolia tree, and the world. With his left hand still on my
ass, he pulled me to the chair that held my pants and sat down, pulling
me onto his lap. I straddled him and kissed him deeply, my hands roaming
his chest -- feeling thick coils of hair under his starched white
shirtfront. Looking down, I saw the fabric stretched tightly over his
pecs, each pearlized button like the lights on a runway as they caught
the faint light that seeped in through the crack in the drapes. I ran my
fingers along them, wondering what I'd release if I pulled them from
their eyeholes.

            "I'm scared." I whispered to my father, falling onto his
massive body, breathing in his smell.  I didn't know if I was talking
more about the wedding or about what was happening right now but I knew I
was scared. I didn't need my heart racing at what felt like a thousand
beats a minute to tell me this.

            "I know, son." Dad said, folding his arms on me.
"Everything is going to work out, son. Trust me. You're going to be
fine."

            Something about how he said this made it real to me. I looked
into his handsome face and kissed him again, my hands roaming his
starched shirtfront, feeling his hard nipples underneath. His neck was
tight in his collar, his crisp bowtie flexing as he tensed a bit. His
suit coat was splayed wide and I ran my hands along his sides, feeling
his incredibly tight body. I kissed him again, pushing my tongue into his
mouth and feeling his lips close on it.

            Reaching behind me, I felt the front of his pants, the tense
fabric stretched around his cock. I struggled to find the zipper but his
hand closed on mine and he pulled back from our kiss. He leaned forward
to stand, forcing me to do the same. I thought then that I'd gone too
far. I was about to offer an apology when he moved me around in front of
him and pushed me onto the chair, on my knees.

            Both hands held my asscheeks and I heard the metallic rasp of
his zipper.

            "I'm scared, dad." I repeated, not knowing what else to
say.

            I felt the heavy weight of his body pressed to mine and then
the softness of the chair's back against my chest. He kissed my neck
around my shirt collar and his hands went up under the thing to roam
along my chest until he found my nipples. He squeezed them with his thumb
and forefinger, pulling gently and twisting a little harder. I leaned
forward on my pants and let my moan escape into them.

            "You don't have to be scared." Dad said as I felt a new
warmth slide into the crack of my ass. "Daddy's here, baby."

            "Show me," I said softly, pushing my ass back against his
cock. "Show me daddy's here." I added, encouraging whatever he wanted
to do.

            There was something about all of this that was ringing in my
head as "too fast". It was happening -- that much was true -- but it
was happening fast. I wondered as I felt my father's body against mine,
how long he'd wanted to do this very thing and as I responded like I was
doing -- how long I'd wanted it, too. Was there something in us that had
been talking to the other about just this very thing but we'd never
heard it before? As my father's fingers pulled gently on my nipples, I
moaned again into my pants and the thoughts of how or why evaporated with
the feelings he was stirring in me.

            One of his hands left my chest and I felt a moistness on my
asscrack. The roughness of his fingertip applied pressure on my hole and
he worked the moistness into me. He'd spit on me and was lubing me up.
My hands held to the back of the wingback and I pushed back against his
finger.

            "My boy wants daddycock, huh?" He said in a low voice, his
face against mine, now. "You want that in you, boy?"

            "Yes," I said into my pants and the back of the chair.

            "Take my fingers for a test run, boy," Dad said to me in
that same low voice. "Dad's cock is thicker, you might not be able to
take it all."

            I shoved my ass back on his hand. His finger slid easily into
my hole and I let out another moan. Another finger joined the first and I
spread my legs. I even managed to get one knee on each of the armrests
and I was as open as I could get in this position. Dad moved in behind
me, his rough pants scraping my bare skin.

            I wished that I could have seen my tuxedo-clad father, his
crisp black suit hugging his every tight curve, his spotless white shirt
pulled tight over a dark forest of hair, his bowtie straining at his neck
as he took in deep breaths. I wished I could have watched his suit-clad
sexiness climb onto the chair with me, his knees on the cushion under me,
the hand that had been pinching my nipples holding fast to the back of
the chair between my own. Muscle, fine fabric, sweat and cologne -- my
father -- the man who was going to take me on the day of my wedding -- to
a bitch I didn't even love!

            "Do me strong, daddy..." I said, dropping my head from my
pants and the back of the chair. "Dick me good and strong so I can
remember MY wedding day for the rest of my life."

            "Trust your father, son," Dad said to me, the head of his
spongy cock now replacing his fingers. "This is a day you're not ever
going to forget."

            I felt more warmth in my hole and knew he had added more spit
as he pushed into me. His head spread me a bit and I took a deep breath
and let it out slowly. My cock throbbed against the chair and I pushed
forward to give it some attention. My hands held the back of the chair
and I prepared for this in the best way I knew how. I forced myself to
relax from the crown of my head to the tips of my toes -- which were
dangling from the arms of the chair.

            "Dad?" I whispered softly.

            "Son?" Came the quiet response as his cockhead slid
completely into me.

            "This is going to hurt, isn't it?"

            My father froze against me, his hands still and unmoving, his
body stiff and suddenly taunt.

            "You've never...you're...a virgin?" He asked softly, still
not moving.

            "To this, yeah..." I admitted equally as soft. "But don't
stop. Do this...dad. Do this to me -- take me...fuck me."

            "I don't want to fuck you, son." Dad said, easing himself
against me, the crispness of his shirt stiff against my own. "I want to
make you feel good...like only a man can."

            Gentle hands slid under my shirt and pulled it up my body. I
raised my hands and let him remove it for me. My own hands returned to
the chair's back and I held on. Again, I let relaxation be the key.
Resting my head on the chair, I took in a breath.

            "Open your shirt, dad...let me feel your chest hair on me."

            A chill went through me as he moved back to unbutton his
shirt as I'd asked. His warmth was gone for only a few seconds and I
felt it acutely. I didn't want to be separated from him like this. I
pushed back against him and felt what I thought would be coarse coils of
hair. Instead, they were like small swirls of silk and they felt
delicious against my back. Dad's hands held my chest and waist,
steadying me. Relax, I told myself as I took in and let out a breath.

            "I'm ready..."

            "I know you are." Dad said and moved slowly forward with
his hips. "I know you're ready for dad's dick. After all this time, I
know you're finally ready to ride my cock and enjoy all it makes you
feel."

            Just then, a knock came at the door to the small room we were
in.

            "Are you boys about ready?" My aunt called through the
wood.

            "Oh yeah," Dad called back. "We're about ready.
Shouldn't be long, now." He added, easing his cock into me. "We'll be
out when we're finished in here."

            "Okay, well...you boys hurry along." She called back.

            "You can't rush this sort of thing." Dad called back, his
prick opening my hole inch by wonderful inch. "We'll be out when we're
satisfied that things have been done right and proper."

            My dad's cockhead throbbed in my ass. After a few moments,
Dad shifted his body and I felt him press against me. I felt his hair on
my back and his hands slide along my stomach and chest up and down,
ruffling my own body hair. It was his scruffy face against mine that
caused me to turn my head in the direction of his mouth. I felt his lips
on mine and his tongue slipping in to work itself against mine. That was
a good thing since his cock slid so far up in me, so quickly, that I
thought I felt it in my mouth, as well! It was one, swift and solid
movement and I was suddenly impaled on his prick!

            I moaned and half-screamed against his mouth and his hands
fastened on my nipples and without any pretense, he pulled HARD! Again, I
moaned against his mouth and arched my back against him.

            This must have sent a message to my dad. His hips began to
rock back and forth like a jackhammer on low. There was a slow but steady
fucking of my ass that went from his thick plum head to his thick base
and back out. He was deeply dicking my virgin ass, his mouth fastened
over mine to keep me from screaming. His fingers were fastened to my
nipples and he was pulling each of them hard and twisting them and
sending me through the roof with pleasure. Every tug sent my cock
spasming against the back of the wingback chair. My hands were small
claws, holding on for the ride of my life.

            "Don't scream," Dad said in a low, husky voice when he
finally released my mouth. "Just enjoy the dick, boy. Relax that ass and
let dad fuck you long and deep."

            "Goddamn, yes..." I moaned, nodding against the chair.
"Fuck my mother-fucking ass!" I said, dropping my voice, sounding like
a desperate whore.

            And I was -- I was a whore for my daddy's dick and I shoved
my ass back for it.

            Dad's hands finally released my nipples and he took hold of
my hips, his fingers digging into my sides. He was serious. I felt the
length of his dick sliding into me with each thrust. My cock throbbed
with the fucking I was getting, leaking all over my pants but that was
the last thing on my mind. What I was solely concentrated on was the cock
that plowed my ass, the hunky, sweaty, hairy man it was attached to and
the pleasure we were both caught up in.

            "Fuck me, daddy..." I began to chant, alternating it with
"yeah" and "deeper". I made sure that only he could hear me but I
never could seem to stop talking for fear he'd stop what he was doing.
"Please do my ass deeper, daddy."

            He answered me by taking hold of my ass cheeks and shoving me
forward. This opened me up and damn, did he throw the cock to me! I
couldn't breathe as deeply as before but all I felt was his prick and it
seemed bigger.

            "You're going to get all daddy has, boy."

            I wondered what that meant but before I could ask, I felt my
own prick tense. I was on the verge of cumming and could feel it in my
balls. Dad's hands on my ass closed  tighter and his dick plunged in
again and again. I felt his mouth on my shoulders and heard him in my
ear.

            "I'm going to cum in your hole now, boy!" He growled.
"You just fucking take it, whore-boy! Take this prick-juice deep in your
ass!"

            It was then that he delivered on his promise! I felt the
first blast and thought that I'd felt it in my mouth. It was that deep
and there were three more to come. Dad unloaded his sweet cum deep in my
hole and I felt it all through my body. My own prick tensed one last time
before I shot my own steaming load all over the back of the wingback I
was pressed to and the dark pants Dad had brought me.

            Dad's hands released me and I leaned back against him. He
held me like he had when I was younger and I used that few minutes to
catch my breath. As I began to be able to breath again, I noticed the
sticky mess I'd made on my pants and how funny it was that I was going
to get married in cum-stained pants. I'd remember my wedding day and the
time with my best man for the rest of my life.

            "Thanks, dad." I said softly, feeling his dick softening in
my hole. "I need to find some new pants, I guess."

            "That won't be necessary." Dad said, kissing my shoulder.
"I told you I'd take care of things today."

            Just then -- an ear-piercing scream shot through the room. It
jarred me and the shock caused me to jerk forward, popping dad's cock
from my ass. I turned around and Dad slipped out of the chair and to his
feet. He did up his pants and buttoned enough of his shirt to be
presentable. I jerked on my cum-soaked pants and the two of us came out
into the main auditorium.

            There was the girl I was supposed to be marrying with half
her dress on and half of it dragging behind her. A guy in a pair of tight
jeans and no shirt stood behind her, a smirk on his handsome face. My
future mother-in-law stood there also, a piece of paper in her hand that
was the same color of my future bride's face. My dad stood behind me and
I felt his hand on the small of my back.

            "How could you do this!!" The mother-in-law was screaming,
shaking the paper. "The baby isn't even HIS! And now, you're doing the
caterer on the day OF your wedding?! How could you DO this?!"

            "I told you." Dad said and I looked up at him. "Her
obstetrician is a friend of mine. He was also your other's doctor. He
told there were some odd things about her tests and so I called in a
favor to get him to do a paternity test."

            "And it's not mine?" I asked, feeling my heart get lighter
in my chest.

            "Not even remotely."

            I smiled as the shirtless guy made his way around my
no-longer bride-to-be and was heading toward my dad and myself, and the
door. He nodded and smiled at my dad before giving me a once-over. "Nice
pants," He said with a smirk. "Looks like I might have tried to fuck
the wrong person today."

            "Yeah?" I asked as he slowed.

            "I'm heading out, do you need a slow ride?" He said with a
smile and a toss of his brown-blond hair. "Maybe let me drop you at your
house after?"

            I looked up at my dad and he smiled. "It's not like you
have anywhere to be." He said. "I'll be home when you get there. You
boys be good...and dirty for me, okay?"

            I left the church that day and headed out into what seemed
like the first sunlight I'd seen in a long while. I was thrilled to be
rid of the endless future of unhappiness and the screaming, crying baby I
was sure would be dumped off on me at every opportunity. Turns out the
caterer was also a friend of my dad -- sent that day to seduce my
bride-to-be and to make sure she got caught.

            After all he did for me -- and for the fucking he gave me --
I have to say that my father was and still is my Best Man!