Date: Sat, 19 Aug 2006 17:09:11 -0700 (PDT)
From: James Spaulding <fathercandy@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dad's Dirty Talk, part 2

Monday I had phone sex with my dad.

On Tuesday Dad didn't call, and I went crazy with fear and desire.  What
the fuck happened?  What the fuck is going to happen? We had plans for
dinner Wednesday night.  We made those plans after we each caught our
breath, after we had each blown a load over the phone, after he told me he
was going to fuck me hard.  And then we simply hung up after we made our
plans.

Wednesday he called and told me to be ready by 7:00.  He said he was hungry
for barbecue.

And barbecue it was.  He picked me up at the hotel.  Of course he looked
good.  Khakis.  White shirt.  Blue blazer.  Dad's a sharp dresser.  He was
as cool, calm, and collected as ever.  He was Dad. Dad as I have always
known him.  Thirty years older than me.  Masculine.  Balding.  Well trimmed
beard.  Tuffs of graying chest hair peaking out from his open collar.  A
little over six feet.  A little bit of a gut.  I went crazier with fear and
desire. What did his performance mean?  Why was he so normal?  Something
had happened. He said a lot of things, things no dad is supposed to say to
his son.  And as he said them I responded in like manner; I made it very
clear my Dad could have his way with me.

Even though I was consumed by all sorts of emotions, dinner proved to be a
great time.  After two beers, I loosened up.  After four beers our rapport
seemed better than ever.  We drank.  We ate.  And we laughed a lot.
Neither of us mentioned Monday night. Ultimately, my fear was replaced by
disappointment.  I was disappointed that our little adventure seemed to be
at an end.  Of course, my desire had never left.  Even the fifth beer
wasn't enough to affect my hard cock.

Dad paid for dinner and drove me back to the hotel.  "Can I come up?"

"Of course you can come up, Dad.  I got a mini-bar.  Libations on the
company."

I adjusted myself as I got out of Dad's car.  I kept my hands in my pocket
as we walked to my hotel room.  No need to advertise my state of arousal.
Dad's blazer covered his crotch; there was no way for me -- or any other
hotel guest -- to know what was happening to him or what he might be
feeling.

I opened the door.  Dad walked in.  I followed.

"What did you think of our first date, James?"

"Our first date?"

"Dinner.  Drinks.  I paid.  I would call that a date.  Wouldn't you?"

I looked at Dad.  He smiled.  I smiled.  "It was great.  You woo well."

"Damn right.  I was afraid I was a little out of practice.  I thought about
bringing flowers, but I didn't think it so wise to give them to you before
the whole of Tulsa.  I hoped buying dinner was enough.

"Enough for what? "

Dad reached for me.  Gently he shoved me to the wall.  He put his hands on
mine and raised them above my head.  I was seemingly powerless. In his
thrall.  His face came closer to mine.  He looked me in the eyes.  I
returned his smile and his gaze.  "Enough for a kiss."  And Dad's lips met
mine, a little nibble at first.  A series of little nibbles followed.  And
then I opened my mouth.  His tongue entered.  And we tasted one another.

Had a kiss ever meant so much?  A father and his son were going where no
father and son are supposed to go.  And yet each man was responding with a
passion and desire that is the nature of the most romantic kisses.  Father.
Son.  James and Steve.  We had our first date, and now we were ending it
the way all good first dates end.  We were kissing.  Our mouths were
passionately exploring one another.

"James?"

"Yeah."

"Do you put out on the first date?"

I kissed him.  Came up for air.  Caught my breath.  "Fuck, yeah."

He let me go.  "Get me a beer. You're sure it's on your company?"

"No problem.  Even if it's not -- you paid for dinner.  I can woo you a
little, too."

"You mind if I get comfortable?"

"What do you think?"  I watched Dad take of his shoes.  His blazer.  He
unbuttoned his shirt a little more.  I saw a little more chest hair.  He
settled on the bed.  I brought him his beer.

"Cheers.  Buddy.  You know how to show a fella a good time."

"You ain't seen nothing yet, Dad."

"James, we need to talk.  You know that?"

Fuck.  Reality entered.  My fantasy was going to be put on hold.  Worse.
My fantasy was going to end.  My dad would reiterate his "dadness".  And
his son -- me -- could do nothing.  How can you persuade your dad to fuck
your hole?  How can you tell him you want nothing more than to have him
shoot a load down your throat.  My disappointment was so immediate and so
illogical, that I had already forgotten Dad's kisses.  I knew our
conversation was going to end the evening.  I took a gulp of beer.
Swallowed.

Dad took a swig from his bottle.  "James, I have wanted to fuck you since
about the time you started sprouting pubic hair.  I guess fucking entered
my thoughts the week your Mom and I took you to Florida for spring break.
You spent every waking hour on the beach.  In the pool.  Always in your too
tight swim suit.  You had grown a lot over the year, and we didn't get you
a new suit before the trip.  I knew you were embarrassed.  Fuck, all boys
are embarrassed as they start sprouting hair, getting bigger.  But you got
over it.  I didn't get over it, James.  I stared at your 12 year old ass
and lusted.  By the end of the week I found myself jacking off in the
shower, thinking of you and your little bubble butt.  I wanted to enter
your hole.  I knew it would hurt like fuck; you were so young.  But your
pain couldn't stop me from imagining my pleasure. I've continued to want
your ass.  I have continued to jack off thinking about you."  He paused to
drink from his beer.

"I remember that trip, Dad.  I did hate that fuckin' swim suit.  It was too
tight.  I kept getting boners for the whole world to see.  Why do you think
I stayed in the pool for so long?  I can't believe you didn't see my
hard-ons."

"I was too busy looking at your ass.  Rather, I was too busy trying to not
look at your ass."

"You can look at it all you want now."

"Yeah."  I noticed a change in Dad's voice.  I got deeper.  Huskier.  "Why
don't you get more comfortable.  Take off your shirt."

I took off my shirt.

"Nice.  Let me see your chest."  I walked closer to him.  He reached up.
Grabbed my tit.  Squeezed.  "Very nice.  You got some hair there, James.  I
like a hairy chest."  He left my tit for my chest hair, gently tugging.
"Take off your pants."

Off came my pants.

"Bend over, Boy.  Let me see your ass."  I bent over.

"Do you want me to take off my boxers, Dad?"

"No just bend over....Fuck.... Nice."

There was a pause.  I heard some rustling.  I turned around.  Dad had his
pants undone.  His cock was out.  It had been years since I saw his cock.
I turned to take it in my hands and then my mouth.

"Stay there, James.  Bend over.  I just want to see your ass."

"I've got some lube in the bathroom."

"Stay there.  I'll go get it."

I watched as Dad walked to the bathroom.  His cock was sticking out of his
pants.  His cock was perfect.  Not too thick.  Not to long.  Perfectly
proportioned.  I was amazed at how much it looked like mine.  Like he said
last night, cock size must run in the family.

"Stay there, James.  I'm going to take off my pants."

I watched as Dad's pants came down.  He was wearing boxers, too.  And like
me, his cock was sticking through the slit.  As I watched his pants come
off, I was consumed by this new reality: my dad was going to fuck me.  I
was going to make love to my father.  Tonight.

He went back to the bed.  I watched as he lubed up his cock, pulling the
waste band of his boxers below his balls.  His hairy, big-ass balls.  Balls
I had every intention of sucking in the next five minutes.

"Take off your shorts.  I want to see your ass....Nice....You got some hair
there, too.  Damn....Spread your cheeks....Nice hole, boy.  Nice
hole....You get fucked much, James?"

"Nope."  I could only gasp.  I was so turned on.  So ready for whatever Dad
had in mind.  "I don't get fucked.  I've only been fucked by two
guys.....I'm a top."

"You're a top... I'm a top. Will I have to convince you to take my cock?
Am I going to have to force you?  Or will you take it like a good boy."

"God, Dad. Fuck me right now.... Just fucking shove it in."

"I don't fuck on the first date, James."

I turned around.  "What?"

"I'm a romantic, Son."  He said it with a smile.  But his eyes told me he
wasn't joking.  He kept stroking his cock.  "We got lots of time.  We got
to get to know each other.  See where things go."

"Are you fucking joking?  You've known me all my life."

"Am I joking?"  He paused.  "James, I may want nothing more than to shoot
my seed deep inside your ass.  You are a hot man.  You are a man, I could
easily fall in love with.  But you are my son.  I love you.  I wouldn't
treat a stranger like a receptacle for my cum.  I'm certainly not going to
do that to you.  Besides, I don't know you.  Does any Dad know his son?
Until two minutes ago I had no idea you'd even been fucked."

"But I fucking want you to do just that, Dad.  Fuck.  Me."

"Oh, James.  I am going to fuck you.  I'm going to clean out your hole with
my tongue.  I am going to lube my cock with some spit.  And I am going to
shove this fucker deep inside you.  Deep inside you.  You will fell every
inch of your fucking ol' man. I will ride you hard.  You will know what
it's like to be fucked by a man."

Dad paused.  He reached for me.  Pulled my face to his.  Plunged his tongue
down my throat.  Grabbed my cock.  Squeezed hard.  My hands went to his
cock.  For the first time I felt my father's prick.  He was so hard.  So
perfectly thick.  He was as overcome with desire as I was.  I knew he meant
it: he did want to fuck me.  I reached for the lube.  Squeezed some in the
palm of my hand, turned my ass to Dad, bent over the bed, and shoved my
lubed fingers up my hole. I turned to look at Dad.  He was stroking his
cock.  Staring at my hole with a deep intensity, a passion that would be
frightening were it not a passion I was feeling, too.  I spread my cheeks.
My hole was lubed.  My ass was open.  Dad just needed to stand up.  And
shove his piece into me.  There was nothing to stop him.  Nothing was going
to stop me.

A moment passed.  Another.  And then the moment passed us by.  I stood up
and turned to Dad.  He stopped stroking his cock.  Pulled his boxers up to
cover his erection.  He sat up, adjusting himself.  Hiding his arousal as
much as possible.  My face easily revealed my disappointment, my lust, my
anger, my love.  He knew I was a mess.  I could tell he was a mess, too.

"What the fuck?"

"Oh, Honey.  I am not going to fuck you tonight.  You young guys want it
all right away.  Look at your cock.  So hard you could bust a nut with one
touch.  But, James, we got some big obstacles to overcome.  I'm your dad.
I'm married -- married to your mom.  And even though you have been in my
jack off dreams for 12 years, I am not going to simply fuck you.  I fuck
you, and then what?  You've been fucked by your dad.  We look at each other
awkwardly.  I leave.  You're alone.  And we both are overwhelmed by guilt.
That doesn't sound too good.  I'd rather you be fucked by a man, a man who
wants you, loves you, and happens to be your dad.  That doesn't sound so
bad."

"It's still fucking incest, Dad."

"But it's not abuse.  And, hopefully, neither of us will ever regret it."

He paused.  Smiled at me.  Reached for my hand.

"Come over here, you hot fuck.  There is such a thing as foreplay, you
know."

I moved towards him.  He reached for the lube.  His hand moved towards my
cock.  Out came the lube, and he covered my cock.

"Stroke your dick.  Stroke it for your old man.  I want to see the cum pour
out of you.  Come on...That's right, stroke it for me...Look at those
beautiful balls, Boy.  Damn, you are fine.  Come on, shoot for me."

I was so close.  The lube took me that much closer.  Dad's request took me
there.

I shot jet after jet of cum.  The first shot hit dad's chest.  Then he took
his hand and caught my cum in his hands.

"Nice, Boy.  Real nice.  Shoot for your dad."

I kept shooting.  And Dad kept collecting it in his hands.  As I finally
finished the load of a life time, Dad looked at me.  He took his hand and
licked off my cum.  I saw his tongue come out, and he ate my seed, cleaning
his fingers as if he had just eaten a glazed donut. All the while he stared
at me.

"Are you going to kiss me, James?  Are you going to kiss me even if my
mouth tastes like your cum?"

His mouth tasted like me.  I licked some of my cum off of his beard.  I
kissed him with a lust I had never felt before.

"Fuck.  James.  Daddy's going to shoot...Fuck....Boy....Watch your old
man...."

I watched, as stream after stream covered his chest.  I watched as his face
made the odd grimaces of beautiful orgasm.  I watched as he took my hand
and put it on his cock.  I gathered his sperm and put it to my mouth.

"No, James.  You are not a receptacle.  Give it to me.  Come on.  Feed it
to me."

Dad took my hand and ate his own cum from my palm.  Again, his tongue
eagerly lapped up all he could.  I bent to kiss him.  Eager to taste his
cum.  I received his tongue, again.  Fed on his juices.  And fell on top of
him.

After ten minutes, kissing, fondling, getting hard all over again.  "When
am I going to be a receptacle for you cum, Dad?  How long are you going to
play hard to get?"  I laughed.  But there was an edge to my questions.  Dad
had played hard to get.  (How quickly I had forgotten that I had gotten
quite a bit...)

"So, James. Are you asking me out on a second date?"