Date: Wed, 25 Nov 2009 07:37:33 +1030
From: Marcus McNally <marcusis32@live.com.au>
Subject: Dad Gives Me A Helping Hand 2

This story contains sexual situations between a father and his teenage
son. If material of this nature offends you then you should not read this
story.  Additionally, if you are under 18 years of age you are probably not
legally allowed to read this story.  This story is purely a work of fiction
and any resemblance to persons living or dead, or to events that may have
occurred, is purely coincidental. The author claims all copyrights in this
story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed (except by
the web sites to which it has been posted) without the consent of the
author.

If you haven't already done so, you should probably read the first chapter
before embarking on this installment.

*************

The alarm clock registered 6:50 am when I woke and in my sleepy fog I tried
to muster the energy to get up and get ready for work.  Only moments later
I realised it was Saturday morning, and I could sleep in if I wanted to.
My son Matt's nurse would be arriving in 10 minutes to take care of his
ablutions and meals until midday. She was an officious old broad but she's
been a huge help to us both since Matt fractured his wrists and sprained
his ankle after falling from his skateboard.

I rolled on to my back and as my head began to clear, I lazily scratched my
balls and ran my hand lightly over my morning boner, which signalled an
urgent need to piss. I sat up, swung my legs off the bed and on to the
floor, and headed for my en suite bathroom.

It's never easy to take a leak with a hard cock, but I managed to point at
the bowl and started a healthy stream, and as I did my memory kicked in and
details of the previous night came flooding back.

Since Matt's accident, I'd swung it so I could work from home in the
afternoons, so that the nurse could leave and I'd take over feeding him and
getting him to the toilet, as well as his evening sponge bath.  He was
initially embarrassed to have his Dad perform this task, but he clearly
preferred it to being bathed by an old nurse, so it was the lesser of two
indignities.

For the first few nights it was something we got out of the way as quickly
as possible before he turned in for the night.  Right from the first sponge
bath, Matt sprang a boner the moment the warm soapy cloth made contact with
his junk and his embarrassment matched my own.

I let him know that his physical reaction was normal, especially in a horny
17 year old, and resorted to corny jokes to lighten the mood, but I knew he
wishes each time, as his cock started to swell, that the ground would open
up and swallow him.

But we'd reached a point where he had an erection before the sponge bath
even started, and his only means of coping with his embarrassment was to
keep his eyes tightly shut.  It was only then that it occurred to me that
his injuries prevented him from `taking care of business' and he hadn't
jacked off for at least a week.  For a 17-year-old youth, that would have
been torture.

I gave it a lot of thought and finally decided that last night I'd put my
own misgivings to one side and `give him a hand'.  His cock was throbbing
by the time I'd rolled him on to his back and after washing his face, chest
and stomach, I moved to his legs and feet, before washing his gear.

When I'd finished washing him I stayed where I was beside him on his bed
and, as we chatted, I took his cock in my hand and slowly started to jack
him.  Having never jerked anyone else's cock but my own, I could only
emulate the way I masturbate; Matt's quiet moans and sighs as I slowly and
steadily pumped his dick told me I was on the right track.

His eyes were closed and his face was relaxed and contented.  It had
clearly been a while for him, and before long he was raising his ass off
the bed and fucking my fist and moments later, a long satisfied moan
escaped from his lips as his cock erupted with a series of long and
forceful jets of cum.  This boy had clearly been backed up.

Matt kept his eyes closed as I mopped up his mess, and as I kissed him
goodnight and left his room, I knew his exertion would lead to sleep in a
matter of seconds.

As I hit drifted off to sleep myself, I wondered how he'd feel in the cold
light of day.

********

As I flushed the toilet, I heard the back door open and Matt's nurse moving
about in the kitchen, no doubt getting my son's breakfast ready.  I decided
to get back into bed and enjoy a weekend lie-in, although the reason was
just as much to delay coming face-to-face with Matt until I had to.

I closed my eyes, but my still hard cock was making it difficult for me to
doze.  My morning wood usually goes away after I take a leak, but today it
was reminding me that on some level, my parental `duty' had crossed over to
the erotic.  My hand disappeared under the covers and gripped my stiff cock
and it took only a few urgent strokes before I was plastering my chest and
neck with a series of healthy and heavenly spurts.  I grabbed some tissues,
wiped up my cum, rolled on my side and let sleep engulf me.

I woke and looked at the clock and was surprised it was 11.15; I'd slept
for almost four hours.  Knowing Matt's nurse would be leaving in 45
minutes, I jumped out of bed and shaved and showered before throwing on
some jeans and a tee shirt and heading out to the kitchen.

As I poured a cup of coffee, Matt's nurse came in carrying the empty plates
from Matt's breakfast.  She wished me a good morning and told me that Matt
was still in bed and that she'd held his mobile phone for him when two of
his mates had called.  She let me know that both Byron and Jack would be
dropping in later in the day to see Matt.

"He seems very cheerful today," she said idly.  "He must be happy he's
going to see his friends".  I agreed, and hoped his cheery mood also
signalled that he was okay with what had happened the night before.

Just after noon, the nurse packed up her things and told me she'd be back
at 7 the next morning.  I saw her out and decided I couldn't stall for any
more time and it was time to face Matt.

I walked upstairs, stood in the hallway for a moment and took a deep
breath, and walked into my son's room.  He was sitting in bed propped up on
pillows, watching the sports channel with the sound down low.

"Morning mate," I said as cheerfully as I could.  He grinned at me and said
"hey Dad" and while I searched his face for signs of masking, I found none.
"The guys are coming over later to shoot the shit."

"Yeah, the nurse told me, mate.  You can hold off having lunch until they
get here if you like, and they can eat with you. I'll just have to nick out
and get some fresh rolls".

As I started walking towards his door, he looked up and said "thanks Dad",
before adding "for everything".

Back in the hallway, I breathed a sign of relief.  He didn't appear to be
wallowing in regret and embarrassment.  If anything, he was the most
cheerful he'd been since he had his accident.  Amazing what empty balls can
do for a boy's frame of mind.

I drove to the shops and stocked up on supplies, bearing in mind how much
teenage boys can consume at any hour, any day.  I got things prepared in
the kitchen and then did my usual Saturday cleaning routine, vacuuming,
sweeping and putting the washing machine through its paces.

Early afternoon the doorbell signalled the arrival of Byron and Jack, who'd
bought books, magazines and CDs for Matt.  Their reluctance to let me see
the covers of any of the magazines alerted me to the fact that these were
probably more well-thumbed editions of `Penthouse' like those I'd found
from time to time under Matt's mattress.  Why teenage boys find they need
to hide that stuff from their Dad's is beyond me.

I told the guys I'd bring some food up for them a little later and they
disappeared up the staircase to Matt's bedroom.

Once the house was in order I made up some bread rolls with the usual
fillings, opened a box of jam donuts and some soft drink bottles, and took
them all upstairs on a tray. The boys were piled on to Matt's bed,
carefully avoiding any contact with his bandages.  They all eagerly
accepted the food and voiced their thanks.

From downstairs I could hear their noisy chatter and raucous laughter, and
I was pleased that Matt had some company other than me and the old nurse,
and had the chance to catch up on the world beyond his bedroom.

Byron and Jack stayed until late afternoon, when they both left to catch up
with their other mates and finalise their plans for the evening's
activities.  I felt a bit sorry for Matt; if circumstances were different,
he would be joining them all.

Once the boys had left, I stuck my head in his bedroom to check all was
well, and Matt looked relieved to see me.  "I need to pee Dad," he said,
and it was obvious his need was great.  "I've been holding on all
afternoon".

I helped him to his feet and walked him to the toilet.  I stood behind him
as he lowered his tracksuit pants, and when I reached around to help him I
found, to my surprise, that his cock was painfully hard.  But considering
he wakes with a piss boner most mornings, I assumed he was accustomed to
urinating in that state, so I simply held his cock and pointed it into the
bowl.  It took him a few seconds, but once he started his stream, it seemed
to go on forever.  When he'd finished, it was too difficult to shake his
cock, so I simply stroked it a couple of times, and I swear I heard a quiet
moan escape from his lips.

I pulled his tracksuit pants up and suggested perhaps he'd like to join me
downstairs to catch the evening news before dinner.  I helped him down the
staircase and got him settled on the couch with his legs up and noticed his
dick was still tenting his trackies and that he was making no attempt to
hide it.

We watched the news, and then while Matt watched a repeat of `The Simpsons'
I cooked up a couple of big bowls of Penne Carbonara which would be easy to
spoon feed him.  He was hungry enough to finish the whole bowl and was even
happy for seconds.  I'll never know where he fits it all.

We flicked through the TV guide but there was precious little worth
watching.  I was reminded of the Bruce Springsteen song "57 Channels (And
Nothin' On)".  Matt perused the pay-per-view movie options and asked if we
could watch a film called `Intimacy'.  I'd never heard of it, so I read the
magazine's synopsis: "Patrice Chéreau's film adaptation of the movie by
Hanif Kureshi, about a man leaving his wife and two young sons after
feeling physically and emotionally rejected by his wife."

It wasn't the usual action or sports-themed movie that Matt generally
favored but it sounded OK, so I went through the payment process and we
settled in to watch. It wasn't long into the film before my jaw was
dropping.  There on our big screen was the noted Shakespearean actor Mark
Rylance fucking the living daylights out of the lead actress Kerry Fox.
And this was no simulated sex scene.  There was no mistaking his hard cock
was plunging into her pussy.  I glanced at Matt whose eyes were glued to
the screen, his track pants bulging.

A while later, Rylance was lying on a bare floor while Kerry Fox sucked his
not inconsiderable cock and again, this was no `fudged' sex scene, she was
unmistakably sucking dick.

"Shit mate," I said to my son.  "This was a mainstream film?"

"Yeah Dad," he said. "It's great, isn't it?"

"Your track pants are certainly telling me you're enjoying it," I said, and
he responded with a grin.  The truth was, my own pants were straining to
contain my own hard cock, as the two actors fucked and sucked their way
through the remainder of the film.  I was still rock hard as I stood up and
reached for the remote control to turn the TV off.  "Looks like you sure
enjoyed it too, Dad," Matt laughed.

"Mate," I said, "I've never seen anything like that in a mainstream movie.
It wasn't even borderline porn, that was full-on sex".

"Well we're gonna have to watch `9 Songs' then," he replied, a reference to
another film I'd never heard of.  "That'll spin you out".

"Well we can hire that for tomorrow night if you like," I said, intrigued
by the thought of a movie that might be more graphic than what we'd just
seen.  "But it's time to get you cleaned up and then we need to hit the
sack."

I helped Matt upstairs to his room and got him out of his clothes in
readiness for his sponge bath, and there was no mistaking his arousal from
the movie; when his track pants came down, his cock sprang up and slapped
against his tummy.  No embarrassment this time, just a chuckle.

I went to my bathroom to grab a wash cloth and fill a plastic basin with
warm soapy water, and remembering how wet I'd got the previous nights, I
stripped out of my clothes and put on a dressing gown.

I found Matt lying naked on his stomach when I got back to his room and
after setting up the basin, I began to sponge his neck and back, then his
legs and feet.  Once again, he squirmed and laughed as I washed his toes.
I rinsed the wash cloth and started to sponge his toned, tanned ass, and
immediately he opened his legs to give me access to his crack.  As I began
the most intimate of washing, he lifted his ass slightly off the bed,
letting his balls dangle enticingly underneath him.  As I ran the cloth
over his asshole and back again, I heard another soft but unmistakable
moan.

I expected to find his obvious arousal at being sponged by his father a
little unsettling, but instead I found it incredibly erotic; we were both
still charged after the sex scenes in the movie.  I tried to push that
thought from his mind as I rolled him on to his back.  His cock was
throbbing and he automatically opened his legs to let his low hanging
ballbag flop on to the sheet beneath him.

I rinsed the cloth again and sponged his flushed face, neck and chest, down
to the start of his treasure trail, his eyes locked on mine each time I
glanced at him.  I rinsed the cloth again and., bypassing his rampant
penis, I sponged his legs and feet from the front.  Encased by the damp
wash cloth, my hand ran up the inside of his thighs, stopping only when his
nutsac nudged by knuckles.  Each time I looked at his face, his slightly
glazed eyes bore into me.

I dipped the cloth in the basin of soapy water, wrung it out one last time
and then looked him in the eyes.  His eyebrows raised slightly, his
expression a cross between hopeful anticipation and barely concealed
need. And deep inside me, a newly revealed need to give my son what he so
desperately wanted.  The left (logical) side of my brain was screaming
"wrong" at me.  The right (feeling) side was more loudly screaming "right",
as it pumped blood to my already pumped dick, and reminded me that many
years ago, I was my son.  He was telling me in the most primal way how much
he needed me to help him out.

 "I'll be right back" I said, before walking down the corridor to my
bathroom and retrieving a seldom used bottle of massage oil.  As I walked
back to my son's room, my mind replayed the few days I spent in Thailand on
business when Matt was just a baby.  My own desperate need to blow a load
led me to a renowned Bangkok brothel where, for only the equivalent of a
few Aussie dollars, a pretty Thai girl gave me a handjob so exquisite that
I recall it every time I fuck my own fist.

I dimmed the lights in the room and sat back at the side of my horny teen
son's bed, his raging hard-on the centre piece in my line of vision.
Locking eyes with him in the semi-darkness, I drizzled some massage oil
into one hand and rubbed it into the other and, after only a momentary
hesitation, my right hand grasped my son's rigid manhood and squeezed it
tight.  There was no sound from Matt, but his eyes rolled slightly back and
his mouth parted very slightly.  With a will of its own my hand started to
stroke my son's cock.  His head rolled back, his pelvis thrust forward and
he surrendered himself to his Dad's loving hand.

At the start, the room had been deathly quiet, but it wasn't long before my
son's laboured breathing cut a swathe through the silence.  With my free
will now out the window, I raised my oiled left hand to circle the top half
of Matt's cock and, recalling the Thai girl, I introduced him to the "juice
squeezing" technique; one hand twisting one way, the other twisting the
other, as if his cock was a piece of ripe fruit.  God it was making me
hard.

Time stood still as I jacked my son's cock and he responded the way any
teenage boy would, groaning with pleasure and writhing in overloaded sexual
bliss.  His desperate whimpering only spurred me on the give him an
experience he would never forget.  His hips lifted und down, fucking his
cock into my warm oiled fist, and giving him a forward glimpse of how a wet
pussy is going to feel.

As his rhythmic and desperate thrusting continued, I watched as his balls
drew up closer to his body, then all too soon his sweat-soaked body went
rigid and, after a series of fast pants and ecstatic moans, he let out an
almost disembodied groan as his cock erupted with a rapid-fire series of
ejaculatory spurts, launching a series of white teenage torpedoes high into
the air to land in splatters on him, the bed and me.  As he came down from
his orgasmic euphoria, his delighted sighs gave way to a sated grin.

The room was suddenly quiet again, the smell of sweat and fresh semen
hanging in the air.  I gave Matt a moment to revel before picking up the
wash cloth and wiping his cum from his chest, his neck and his forehead,
his pillows and my own arms.  I briefly flashed on the thought that he
could give Peter North a run for his money (shot).

Fully aware of my own intense level of excitement, I dropped Matt's semen
soaked wash cloth into the basin and rinsed it.  As Matt's now limp body
sank into the mattress, his right hand dropped into my lap.  As I packed up
the wash bowl and cloth and prepared to remove them, I felt a hand slip
under my dressing gown and make its way along my thigh, stopping to touch
my balls briefly before wrapping itself around my pulsating cock.

As my mind seemed to shut down, my cock involuntarily flexed, and for the
second time tonight, time stood still ...

* * * * * *

Please feel free to email me your comments.  marcusis32@live.com.au