Date: Fri, 6 Nov 1998 09:13:16 -0000
From: John Venn <john@jvenn.freeserve.co.uk>
Subject: Dad's Best Friend - Part 1

This fictional story contains scenes of consensual father/son sex. If this
offends you, or is illegal where you live, don't read further!


Dad's Best Friend

by 

Alexander


I don't remember very much about my Mother, she died in a car crash when I
was about five years old. The only reason that I can remember her at all is
because of the photographs Dad puts out whenever we have any family to
visit.  It took me quite a long time to realise why he did this, but slowly
it did.

Before I get too involved with this story, I had better explain a bit about
myself I suppose. My name is Paul and I will be 15 on my next birthday in
about three months time.  My father and I live in a largish detached house
about ten miles outside Dover on the s.e. coast of England.  Our nearest
neighbours are about two miles away, and the closest lad of about my age
lives even further away than that!

You can imagine then that Dad and I spend a lot of time together,
especially when I am on holiday from school - luckily he works from home
and can usually organise his life so that we can get out a lot when the
weather is OK.

But I am getting a bit ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning.

I must have had quite a bad time after Mum died, although I can't remember
much about it now.  All I can recollect with any clarity is that was when I
first started to sleep with Dad. I felt the loss of Mum mostly at night as
she was always the one who bathed me and put me to bed. For about a year
Dad let me sleep in his bed with him as it was the only way he could get a
good nights sleep without having to get up and calm me down after having a
bad dream.  Sometimes he would carry me back to my own room during the
night, but as time went by, he did this less and less; I think that he
enjoyed my company almost as much as I did his.

By the time I was coming up to eight years old, we had accepted the fact
that we would always share the same bed, and I don't think that it was ever
discussed that I ought to use my own room, except when we had people
staying overnight. I knew inwardly that other people wouldn't understand if
they knew I still slept with Dad and so I accepted it just as a part of
normal life and never mentioned it to anyone.

Naturally as I was getting older, I was becoming more and more sexually
aware and more than a little interested in it.  Accustomed as I was to
seeing Dad naked, and never giving it a second thought, I can clearly
remember waking up early one morning, long before Dad would be awake and
seeing his penis hugely erect. The sight both frightened and excited me as
I had never imagined that small thing which hung between my legs could
ever, ever, grow to such gigantic proportions.  For the next few months I
secretly and deliberately tried to wake before he did just so that I could
stare at it; the feelings I felt inside myself I couldn't begin to
explain. The only thing I knew for certain was that it was a nice, pleasant
and comfortable one.

It took me ages to work up the courage to actually touch it. One morning I
had woken up as normal and found that for the first time, I also had a
stiff prick. My 3 inches or so didn't even compare with the seven inches my
Dad had. And his sprouted from a bush of black hair, whilst I was still
bald and smooth. Touching and playing around with my own prick, I found
that the sensation was much more than nice, it was wonderful! Thinking to
myself that if I enjoyed the sensation as much as I did with my tiny little
cock, how much more enjoyable it would be for Dad if I played with his,
after all, I reasoned, his was much bigger and he would get that much more
pleasure.

Laying with my head on his chest, I looked down towards his crutch and
slowly moved my right hand towards his groin. Still holding my own cock
with my left hand, I gingerly took hold of Dad. Noticing with interest that
my fingers didn't even begin to meet around his cock and I could only just
hold his balls on my open palm, I let my hand explore all around his
groin. Quite unexpectedly I felt his prick get even bigger. In something of
a panic I let go and looked at it carefully. Whilst it had seemed quite
hard before, it had got even stiffer now and stood almost upright. Thinking
to myself that Dad must enjoy being touched, I grabbed it again and slid my
hand slowly up and down the shaft, feeling it grow under my touch.  (As did
mine, I was delighted to realise).

Suddenly Dad's eyes opened.  "What ......?" he gasped and glared at me.

At first I thought that he was going to get really mad at me. and letting
go I blushed bright red with shame.

Feeling acutely embarrassed and not knowing what to say, I simply lay
there, not daring even to look at him.

"Sorry!" I managed to stammer eventually and began to cry.

There was a strained silence for what seemed like a lifetime before,
thankfully, Dad said "That's all right, Paul. Put it back if you want."

I must admit that at the time that was the last thing I wanted to do, but
needing to please him and keep him happy I did as I was told.  Dad lay back
on the pillow and sighed contentedly.

We lay there for about ten minutes with me gently massaging his prick.
Suddenly, and without any warning at all, I felt his cock expand just like
a balloon and lots of white, sticky stuff shot out the end of it.  Laying
as I was, with my head still on his chest, I managed to collect most of it
on my face.

"Jesus!" Dad said, and sat bolt upright, making me jump even more.

I was terrified. My first thought was that I had somehow or other managed
to hurt my Dad, his whole body was trembling and shaking uncontrollably.
Looking at him worriedly, I asked him if he was all right.

"Yes, son. Fine" he answered, putting an arm round me and giving me a
cuddle. Kissing me on the forehead, he added, "I think it's about time you
and I had a talk."

A little later we were in the bathroom together, he having a wash and shave
and me having a shower.

"Listen carefully to what I have to say Paul," I heard him tell me, "What
happened this morning wasn't wrong, or anything like that, but you mustn't
ever tell anyone about it. They might not understand."

Gratefully I took in what he had said and readily agreed. I wasn't at all
sure why, but I felt a lot happier now that we had actually spoken about
it.

"When you get back from school today, we'll have a chat."

The day passed very slowly for me. I couldn't wait to get home and talk to
Dad. I had no idea what he was going to say, but I knew that it was
important and also that somehow, in a way I didn't understand, our
relationship was about to change for the better.

At long last I got home and found Dad working in his study. Running in to
the room, I threw my school bag on the floor and bounced up onto the couch.

"Do you wanna talk now, Dad?" I asked excitedly.

"Not just yet. Later. You go and get out of your school clothes and come
down for tea first."

Within a couple of minutes I was undressed, dressed and sat at the table,
wearing my favourite T-shirt and baggy shorts.

On the table was a little book - "Boys Growing Up" it read on the cover.

"I think we ought to read that together after tea," Dad said.

For the first time in as long as I could remember, after the meal was
finished we went into the living room and didn't put the TV on. Instead Dad
drew the curtains and put the lights on. Sitting on the settee, Dad
motioned for me to sit next to him. The room felt lovely, warm and
comfortable and I curled up next to him, with his arm over my shoulder.
For the next hour or so he and I went through the book; not page by page,
but selecting odd bits here and there when he could see that I was
interested in something.  Naturally I had picked up scraps of information
about 'the facts of life' both in class and in the playground - what this
wonderful little book was doing was to fit the jumbled bits of stuff I had
learned into some sort of order for me.  Not surprisingly I wasn't at all
interested in the few 'girl' bits, but listened attentively when Dad
explained about puberty and adolescence. I was fascinated when it explained
about erections, masturbation, sperm and so on. I was also uncomfortably
aware that my prick was getting hard - the first consciously erotic
'erection' I had ever had. Curiously I looked down at Dad's groin and was
pleased to see that he also had one. So, I thought with great relief, it's
all right then.

At the end of the book was a small chapter about boys having sex together -
'Homosexuality' I learned it was called.  Dad seemed to spend more time on
this bit than he had on any other part of the book, much to my delight I
remember thinking.

One page especially sticks out in my mind even now. It explained that
almost all boys go through a stage when they 'play around' with each other
and 'toss each other off', but that most grow out of it. A few however
don't and they are what are called 'homosexual'.  There is nothing wrong
with them, Dad informed me, but it isn't 'usual' and many people find them
difficult to understand.

"That's what we did this morning," Dad continued, "And that's why no one
must ever know about it."

"I thought it was nice and I liked it," I said innocently, "Didn't you?"

"Yes, I did," he answered carefully, "But we shouldn't really do it."

He then explained the reasons that we shouldn't do it again, but couldn't
really answer me when I asked him why if we both enjoyed it and no one else
knew.

Eventually we compromised by agreeing that if we both wanted to 'play with
each other' then we could, but it must remain our deepest secret.

I was more than happy to agree with this, and much to Dad's embarrassment
(and delight as I now know), asked if we could 'do it' again now!

Laughing, he picked me up from where I was curled up against his side, sat
me straddled across his knees and pulling me towards him, kissed me softly
on the cheeks. Throwing my arms around his neck, I hugged him tightly and
returned the kisses. My prick was now hard again, and I am sure he could
feel it against his stomach through my T-shirt. I know that happily I could
feel his erection pressing into my groin and mischievously wriggled against
it.

"No, not now." I was disappointed to hear him say as he picked me up and
stood me on the floor, "But we can later, if you're a good boy!" he smiled.

End of Part 1.

Feel free to tell me what you think (Positive comments only please!!!)
Constructive comments always welcome.

Alex.