Date: Wed, 29 Sep 2004 23:34:35 EDT
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: Daddy's Secret Lover

			   DADDY'S SECRET LOVER
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM

     I turned the dial on the Funkaphone to the next notch, put my lips
into the speaker and said, "Hello there!"
     "Hello there!" came out the other end. Only it sounded like Donald
Duck.
     I smiled, turned the next notch and said it again, "Hello there!"
     "Hello there!" this time it was all wobbly-sounding. Like a cartoon
elephant would say it, maybe, or a snake.
     "Hello, there yourself." Dad said from the doorway.
     I looked up, smiled a bit sheepishly. The Funkaphone was a gift from
an aunt of mine, my fourteenth birthday had been the week before. It was
really too young a gift for me, but it was kind of fun. There were over
twenty settings, and I was really only just tonight beginning to mess with
it. Then I was puzzled.
     "I thought you were going out tonight." I said. Dad usually got
dressed up in black leather and chains and stuff when he went out. He had
spent enough money on that stuff. Only this night, he was just wearing a
t-shirt and jeans. Only his boots were the leather sort, they had a kind of
hook on them that would let his partner hang him upside down.
     "I am." Dad said. "Chuck told me not to wear anything but this." He
smiled. "I think he wants to rip them off me."
     "Are you coming home tonight?" I asked him.
     "I don't know." Dad said. "Chuck hasn't told me yet. But if I'm not
home by morning, I'll call, I promise."
     "Okay." I said, shrugging. "When am I going to meet Chuck?"
     "Later." Dad said. "I...well...Chuck doesn't like children. If we get
serious, though, I'll tell him. Just not yet. Are you okay with that, son?"
     "I guess." I said. I wasn't worried about my place with Dad, if Chuck
didn't like kids and couldn't deal with me, it was good-bye Chuck! Dad
might be a sexual submissive in bed, but not where I was concerned. He'd
proven that to me before.
     I looked at my Dad. It was something of a puzzle to me. I mean, at
fourteen, you really start thinking about what you're going to be when you
grow up, but you think of it in terms of absolutes. A rough, rugged trucker
or a slender, athletic dancer, it was all or nothing.
     I'd think that, then I'd look at Dad. He worked in a steel mill, and
muscles were the order of the day. Huge rounded muscles, stern rugged face,
hairy and masculine as you could get...and when Dad went out at night, he
went looking for a man who would dominate him completely, take him down and
use his body like a common whore.
     It was a puzzle to a young fellow like me who was still trying to
figure the world out.
     Dad went away and left me alone in the apartment.
     But that was cool, really. It was a Friday night, the only night he'd
do this. Saturdays he'd often sleep late, but when he got up, and all day
Sunday, was our time. As for a babysitter, I'd been allowed to do without
one since I was thirteen.
     So I kept fiddling with the Funkaphone. The most interesting for me
was setting number twelve. I spoke into it, and my voice came out deeper, a
bass voice. I heard that and thought, damn, that sounds like I want to
sound when I grow up.
     Trouble was, my voice had already begun to change and it wasn't going
to get that deep. I could fake a deep voice, but usually my voice would
crack when I tried it.
     Then I watched some television and finally got into bed. Lay there
wondering about Dad.  How could a big, masculine guy like Dad want to be
somebody's submissive sex slave? It wasn't like it was something he liked
to do, it was more like something he had to do. All day, he'd be working
away and nothing about any of it was anything less than a real man...then
he'd come home and it was like a complete change of personality.
     Maybe when I got a little older, I'd talk to him about it. I went on
to sleep.
     About two a.m., I woke up and needed to use the bathroom. I staggered
out of my bedroom to the one bathroom we had, I had to walk through the
living room to get to it. I could hear voices in Daddy's bedroom, he had
brought Chuck home with him. They were talking, I guess, I didn't hear
grunts or groans or spanking sounds or anything. I knew, though, that Dad
wouldn't want to be interrupted, nor even to have Chuck know I was in the
apartment, even.  Maybe after, he'd tell Chuck about me.
     So I used the bathroom quietly as I could, and done, hitched up my
pajama bottoms (all I was wearing) and opened the door to head back to my
own room.
     And there was a man dressed in leather standing in the living room,
who had a bag of sex toys sitting on the couch and was going through it. He
looked up, saw me and scowled. "Who are you?" he growled.
     "I'm Avery." I said. "I live here. Sorry for bothering you, I'll just
go back to bed now."
     "You're his kid?" Chuck said in disbelief, frowning deeper.
     "Yeah." I admitted. "He was going to tell you." I added as I saw him
get mad.
     "Damn, the little bastard has a kid!" Chuck snarled. "I told him I
didn't want no kids around me."
     He stuffed the toys back into his bag and closed it angrily. "You tell
that shit-head father of yours not to call me again!" he snapped. "He's all
tied up in his bedroom, you untie him. You ought to be good at that by
now."
     And he stomped out of the apartment, closing the door with a slam!
     "Chuck?" Dad called out. "Chuck, is that you?"
     Oh, hell, I'd just caused Dad to lose another boyfriend! Not only
that, but I was going to have to be the one to untie him! Yeesh, Dad's sex
life was one thing, being that involved in it was another! I could handle
it, but would Dad, having his own son removing the leather fastenings?
     Maybe I could pretend to be Chuck, long enough to untie him, but leave
his blindfold on.  Get Dad out of this predicament and talk to him tomorrow
about what had happened.
     I had a happy thought and went to get the Funkaphone, set it for that
bass voice. It wasn't all that much like Chuck's voice, but it would have
to do.
     "Chuck? What's taking so long?" Daddy asked as I opened the door. Dad
was there, blindfolded, naked, face down on the pillow and his ass upright,
shaved clean of all hair, pointed right at me.
     I put the Funkaphone up to my lips. "Just a moment." I growled. "I'm
trying to pick which one I want to start with." I intended only to stall my
Daddy while I figured out how to get him untied without being seen, but it
had the opposite effect.
     "Chuck?" Dad said.
     "What?" I said through the Funkaphone."
     "Fuck me now, please, sir?" Dad said.
     "What?" I blurted out, and it was only luck the Funkaphone was still
up to my lips.
     "Fuck me, God, fuck me now, hurry!" Daddy moaned. "God, I need it so
bad! Please, hurry up, sir, please! I need you to fuck me, sir, please,
fuck me hard, sir!"
     I found my cock so hard all of a sudden it hurt! I mean, at that age
you can throw a boner without even thinking about sex, but here, now, with
my dad's butt standing up there, and Dad begging to be fucked. God, I
suddenly understood at least a little bit about Dad's lifestyle, the part
about having a big stud tied to the bed, and you able to do anything with
him you wanted.  God, this was any teenager's dream, to do that!
     I walked up to Dad, my stomach churning, my cock jutting out in my
pajama bottoms like a stick, and I put my hand on one of Dad's beefy
buttocks, all round and hard and firm. It was smooth and it was warm and I
wanted it, right then!
     "O-o-o-oh, yeah-ah-ah-ah!" Dad moaned out. "Come on, do it, do it,
please, sir, do it!"
     I put the Funkaphone back up to my lips, but I found my voice all
fogged up, I couldn't say a word!
     "Come on, do me, fuck me right now, sir, don't even lube it up, just
stick it in, please!"  Dad begged me.
     Shivering, I set down the Funkaphone and put my hands to my pajama
bottoms. I wasn't wearing anything under them, really only wore the bottoms
because sometimes Dad would walk in on me in the mornings and I would wake
up and see him looking down at me, and sometimes I would kick off the
covers in my sleep. I never had the two together, but the thought of it was
enough to make me wear pajama bottoms to bed.
     So when I slid them over my hips and they fell to my feet, I was naked
as Daddy, more because he had on the blindfold and shackles. God, was I
doing this?
     "Come on, Chuck, fuck me, really just ram it up my ass, hard, God, I
need it hard!" Dad crooned.
     Damn right, I was going to do this! When would I ever have a chance
like this, to have a man tied up and on the bed, begging me to fuck him!
And this man my own Dad!
     I climbed up onto the bed and Dad wiggled his hips at me! "Come on,
shove it in me, hard, let me feel it, I want to feel it!" Dad said.
     I bent my knees and got my whanger down. Dad's butthole...well, I
should have expected it. He had been at this quite a long time. His asshole
was relaxed and open. Shove it in hard? He was wide open, anything less and
he might not even feel it!
     So I did, I put my cockhead up against his bunghole and I felt it
practically suck my head in.
     "Come on, shove it in me!" Dad pleaded.
     So I shoved! It slid on in, and Dad just gave out a low sound of
pleasure.
     "Yeah, that's it, come on, you big stud, fuck me, make me scream, fuck
me!" Dad groaned.
     God, the feel of Dad's ass! It was hotter than I'd expected, very,
very warm, and moist and not at all sticky or gross-feeling. It was smooth
as velvet inside my Dad's ass, and it was molded to fit my cock! I didn't
need any more urging from Dad, I began to fuck at his ass, and there was
nothing gentle about my doing it. Not only his asking me to be rough, it
was like I had my brain turned off, my dick was running things, sending my
body the signals it needed to ram into Dad's butt over and over
again. You'd think a person would need to figure out how to fuck, it would
take practice or study or at least thinking about it. But I guess it's
instinct in some way, because I was doing it right without any problems at
all. Or none I was noticing, maybe it was Dad's fetish playing into my
needs, he needed to be used by someone and me, the virginal teen losing his
cherry by fucking him, I was using his body.
     "Yeah, Chuck, fuck me harder, come on, harder, man, you can do it,
fuck me harder!"  Dad groaned.
     I was lost in my senses, feeling the sheer, raw pleasure of actually
fucking someone and the joy of having my hands on a man's body, and
figuring I was really getting away with this, when Dad said, "Chuck?"
     "Huh?" I said, realized I hadn't disguised my voice, said much
deeper. "What is it?"
     "Talk to me." Dad said.
     Oh, crap! I looked for the Funkaphone, I had laid it on the bed when I
climbed up. There it was, touching Dad's body. I reached for it and Dad
said, "Yeah, ram that in me!"
     I put the Funkaphone up to my mouth and said, panting a little, my
cock still inside my Dad's ass, "You couldn't take it."
     "Yeah, I can." Dad gasped. "Anything you want, I belong to you, sir,
please. Take that and shove it up inside me!"
     "Later." I growled. "I'm fucking you now."
     "God, that bag of toys, Chuck, I dream about that bag of toys." Dad
said. "I need it, I want it!"
     "Later." I said sternly. "Right now, I'm fucking your ass, you got
me?"
     "Yes, sir." Dad sobbed.
     "I'm going to fuck you until I shoot my load, you got me?" I said.
     "Yes, sir, I'm sorry." Dad said submissively.
     "Now shut up and let me fuck this sweet butt of yours." I told
him. "Better yet, talk to me, talk real dirty!"
     I went back to plugging my Dad's butt and Dad moaned again. I got all
the way down on my knees (the squatting position was getting me tired, and
Dad lowered his butt when I did, and I felt his huge legs pressed against
my skinny ones and shuddered again. God, it felt so good to fuck my Dad's
ass. This big, burly man, this muscled stud, was mine to do with as I
wanted, for as long as I wanted. God, this was Friday night, I could keep
him tied up all weekend!
     The thought of that, of fucking my Dad for hours, turned me on
incredibly, and I felt my dick stir, steady for the rush.
     "I'm going to come!" I grunted out.
     "Oh, yeah, come on, Chuck, cream in my butt, fill me up!" Dad said.
     "Oh, God!" I groaned. "I'm going to come, I'm going to shoo-oot!" And
my voice cracked on shoot, the last syllable was as high as if I'd been a
little kid.
     "Come on, shoot it, stud, shoot it!" Dad cried out.
     "Oh, oh, oh, OHHH!" I was past any control over my voice now, I was
spurting my wad, I felt the squirts ripping through my cock and pelting my
Dad's insides, Dad was moaning and groaning and so I was I and I shot like
only a teenaged boy can, a heavy creamy load that squished about as I
fucked into him.
     "Oh, God, oh, God!" Daddy groaned. "Chuck, please, I need to come now,
please, sir, make me come now!"
     I didn't understand at first, panting heavily, dizzy from my climax,
then I realized what Dad needed. I reached down and got hold of his thick
prong, it was hot as his butt had been, and I jerked it and Dad moaned, a
few yanks and he was squirting his load onto the sheets, loud splats
hitting the cotton cloth, and Dad moaning, "Oh, yeah, oh, yeah, oh, yeah!"
     Done, I looked at my Dad and I realized just what I'd done. I mean,
thought about it without my dick doing my thinking for me. Crap! What kind
of a pervert was I? Dad had his hang-ups, but they weren't a shade of what
I'd just done, fucking my own father!
     I got to my feet, grabbed my pajama bottoms off the floor and got out
of there. Got back to my room and sat on my bed thinking. Shit, what was I
going to do? This was sick!
     "Chuck? Chuck? Where are you?" my Dad said.
     I pulled on my pajamas and went back into the bedroom. Moving quietly,
Dad still calling out to Chuck, I undid the shackles from the wall. With
his hands free to move, Dad could undo the rest of it by himself. The
chains clinked as they hit the bed and Dad said, "Chuck, are we done now?
What about the toys?"
     But I just got back out of there again. Chuck was breaking up with
him, I could pretend he just left without telling Dad anything. If Dad came
out, I was going to go out as if I'd been awake only a little while and
say, "Dad, Chuck saw me. I'm sorry, but he saw me and he got mad and said
he wasn't going to stay with someone who has a kid."
     But Dad didn't come out and after a while, I realized he wouldn't be
coming out. He must have gotten out of his shackles and just went to
sleep. I waited for an hour, for Dad to at least come out and see what had
happened, but he didn't. Maybe Chuck did this to him the other times they'd
been together, maybe this was part of their sex, Chuck just fucking him and
taking off afterwards.
     When I was sure, really sure, that Dad wasn't coming out, I got back
into bed and tried to sleep. Eventually, I did.
     The next day, I staggered into the kitchen. Dad usually slept in, I
was going to get a bowl of cereal.
     But Dad was at the table, . "Want some eggs for breakfast, Son?" he
asked me.
     "Uh, sure." I said.
     Dad stood up and went to the stove. "Did Chuck and I bother you last
night, Son?" He asked me.
     "No." I said. Hesitated. "But I bothered Chuck. Got up to use the
bathroom and he saw me. Just took his bag and left, something about not
wanting kids around him. I'm sorry if I've messed things up."
     "Don't fret about it, Son." Dad said. "I've talked with him this
morning."
     "Oh." I said. Quiet, and I couldn't bear it, I continued. "What did he
say about seeing me?"
     "Just that he was through with me." Dad said. A pause. "Nothing else,
just that one sentence and he hung up on me."
     "I'm sorry, Dad." I said.
     "Don't be." Dad said. "But you are growing up, aren't you?"
     "I guess so." I shrugged.
     "And having a Dad like me can't be easy on you." Dad stirred the eggs,
scrambling them in the pan. "You're being exposed to a lot of things kids
your age aren't. I worry sometimes about how you're handling that, what you
think of me." He came over and shuffled the eggs onto my plate. Toast and
bacon were on the table already.
     "I love you, Dad." I said, putting my hand on his arm. "It's okay,
really."
     "You sure about that?' He said to me. "Really okay?"
     "Sure, Dad." I said. "I think I understand, even."
     We ate in the silence we usually did, two guys wolfing down their
food.
     "I need someone who can love me the way I want to be loved, that's
all." Dad said.
     "I understand." I said again.
     "I think you do." Dad said.
     "I'm sorry about Chuck." I repeated.
     "It's all right." Dad said, standing up. "I think I found the right
man, anyway." He took the dishes to the sink, dumped them in.
     "Chuck?" I asked when the silence stretched out.
     "No." Dad said. "A new one. Young and untrained, but ready to please
me. A little bit of training and he'll treat me the way I need to. I think
it'll be great."
     "I hope so." I said to him.
     "Me, too." he said. "I have to find out what he feels about it, but I
think it'll work. If he wants it to."
     "That's great, Dad." I said.
     "I think so, too." Dad said. "By the way, here you go." He dropped it
on the table. "When you're ready, we'll talk." he said, and left me alone
with the item, going into his bedroom.
     The Funkaphone. I'd left it on Daddy's bed last night.
     I looked at it awhile, then got up and went after my Dad.

				  THE END
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