Date: Tue, 12 Sep 2006 17:06:06 -0700 (PDT)
From: James Spaulding <fathercandy@yahoo.com>
Subject: Dad's Dirty Talk, part 4

I left, but I didn't get very far.  Mom met me in the kitchen.  As
self-absorbed as she can be, she could tell something was wrong.  And I had
to think fast.

"Jimmy?  What in the world?  What's wrong, honey?  Have you been crying?"

"I....I guess the heat really has gotten to me.  I think I'm going to call
it a night and go to bed."

"What about the cake?"

Good ol' self-absorbed Mom.  I had gotten out of a potentially very
problematic question and answer session; she was more concerned about her
cake than any trauma I may have been experiencing.  I knew if I left
abruptly -- which is what I had been planning on doing -- I wouldn't
escape.  She would challenge me.  Her questions would come fast.  And my
answers wouldn't come at all. I didn't have the strength to lie.  I just
needed to go to my room.  Shut the door.  Sleep.  And hopefully figure
things out.  Dad wouldn't do anything with Mom in the house.  My shut door
was as strong a message as anything.

I tossed and turned for hours.  I tried to read.  Couldn't focus.  I tried
to jack off.  But only thought of Dad, his mouth around my cock, his face
covered with my cum.  And then I lost my boner, consumed by guilt all over
again.  Around midnight -- long after I had heard Mom and Dad go to bed --
I put on a pair of shorts and went downstairs.  I needed a drink.  I needed
lots of drink.  My confusion was at its apex.  I was overcome by guilt.
But that guilt only reared its ugly head when I thought about how much I
loved my dad.  How much fun we've always had.  How exciting, fulfilling,
sexy, erotic, amazing this past week had been, ever since our phone sex.
Years of dating guys, looking for someone to make me happy, someone I could
make happy, and now I was convinced I had discovered him. But he was my
dad.  That's when the guilt would kick me.  I would beat myself up thinking
of my mom, my sisters, my grandma, our neighbors.  Everyone in my life who
admired me, admired my dad, and thought we were good people would be
disgusted.  For all I knew, our relationship wasn't only disgusting, it was
probably also illegal.  Everything was wrong.  And then I would think of
Dad, the man I got to know this past week.  And I was convinced it was
right.  Then my mom's face.  A vicious circle, one I hoped to put to sleep
with a few stiff drinks.


I walked to the dining room, opened the liquor cabinet, poured a lot of
whiskey into a glass with some ice, made sure the bottle accompanied me,
and walked to the back porch.  I sat down, and started drinking.  The first
one went down fast, and just as I poured the second, the back door opened.

 Of course it was Dad.  Of course he couldn't sleep either.  I didn't know
what to say.  I didn't want him to say anything.  I just held out the
bottle.  He took it, and drank deeply from the bottle.  I drank.  He drank.
The night was silent.

Finally Dad spoke.  "You know why I did it, don't you?"

"No."

"Because I knew we had come to the darkest moment.  Your mother was a
hundred feet away.  We could both hear her.  We were both overwhelmed by
our feelings.  At that moment most of those feelings were dark.  I felt
evil.  I felt like I was the worst human being on the planet.  But I also
wanted you.  I wanted you in my arms.  I wanted you in my bed.  I wanted to
make sure you would stay in my life.  I knew we were no longer father and
son.  Yeah, I fathered you.  I raised you.  But something had happened
between us. Everything had changed.  There was no way Jimmy and his Dad
would ever be what they were.  And Steve only knew he wanted to make love
to James.  I only wanted to make love to you.  My son, yes.  But, also the
man with whom I've been obsessed for quite some time.  I had to do
something.  I had to help us get over what we were both feeling.  I hoped
our desire would overcome our guilt.  I was wrong.  I'm sorry.  I am so
very, very sorry."

Silence followed.  I drank some more.  I looked out into the dark yard.
Then I look at Dad.  He was sitting on the step, also staring into the
darkness.  He was wearing his pajamas.  From my seat, I could see his
profile, his beard, his high forehead, the hair that was sticking out of
his pajama shirt.  I saw his feet.  His hands.  His hairy forearms.  The
longer the silence grew, the more I stared at Dad, the more I allowed
myself to feel my love for me, the more confident I became.

It was time to find the right words, but I didn't know what they were.  So
I just said the first thing that came to mind.

"Did you like sucking my cock?"

Dad looked up.  In a few seconds I saw his face change.  What was once
wracked with guilt and sadness, was quickly transformed by a smile that
grew by the moment, a smile that said far more than I had expected.  Dad
wasn't just happy to feel forgiven.  He was still smitten.  His smile and
his stare spoke loudly.  My hand moved to me crotch.  Dad's stare shifted
location; he was no longer looking at my face, all of his attention seemed
directed at my evident erection.  His smile grew broader.  My cock must
have told him as much as his smile had told me.  If I was hard, he was
forgiven.  If he was forgiven, I had made some sort of peace with our
relationship.  We were going to fuck.

Dad took the bottle from the step, took my hand, and we walked to the back
yard. The dew was heavy.  The stars were bright.  The night was warm.  Hand
in hand we made it to Dad's garden, once again thankful for the solitude it
allowed.  The shrubbery and the night concealed us from the world.

This is where I need to make some sort of disclaimer.  Dad and I fucked
like animals.  We lost all control.  But we made love.  Somehow behind all
of the primal passion, our love was also fueling our sex.  I guess that
what makes for the hottest lovers...crazy, uncontrolled, expression of a
beautiful thing.

I pulled Dad to me.  He pulled me hard in turn.  Our lips met and our
tongues went to work.  But even as we were kissing, I was making my way to
his pajama pants.  And as I was moving to put my father's cock into my
mouth for the first time, my father moved with me; our kissing wasn't
broken until I was on my knees before him.  Dad stood straight.  And I
released his cock.  His precum glistened.  I squeezed his cock, hoping to
milk him, hoping to release more precum.  His cock grew harder and it grew
sticky.  I took my father's penis into my mouth, tasting his precum,
smelling his crotch. My hands grabbed his balls.  And I went to work.

Another digression: once, a few months later, he and I measured our cocks
with my mother's tape measure.  Dad's cock was seven and three quarter
inches long; he was adamant it was eight inches.  I was eight inches --
yes, my cock was a little bigger than my dad's cock -- and I refused to let
him exaggerate even a little.  I was proud of the extra length I had on
him.  We were both thick, almost five inches in circumference.  I can't be
more specific because when Dad realized I was probably thicker than him,
the measuring ended.  He took the tape away from me, and we went back to
what mattered -- fucking.

After a few moments, I had no problem taking Dad into my mouth.  He was
pretty thick, and I was worried that he'd feel my teeth.  I looked up at
him.  He had unbuttoned his pajama shirt; his chest hair shone dark in the
night.  I took my mouth from his cock.  "How's that?  Is your boy a good
cock sucker?"

"Keep sucking, son.  I'll let you know when you're finished."  His left
hand went to his cock.  His right hand went to my head.  He put his cock
into my mouth.  And then with both hands on my head, he proceeded to fuck
my face.  I did nothing but make sure my mouth was able to take all of him.
He fucked away.  His hands were tight on my head.  A few times I gagged,
but Dad didn't slow down.  It didn't take long for Dad to come.  I could
feel the base of his cock constrict.  And then I felt his warm seed shoot
deep down my throat.  He struggled to stay quiet.  But his groans grew
louder.  Soon a now familiar litany was spewing from his lips: "fuck, fuck,
Jimmy...f...u...c...k..."  Dad didn't stop fucking my face, even as he
filled my mouth with his cum.  Of course I took it all.  I had no choice.
I had gagged a bit as my throat, feeling the length of Dad's cock, was also
filled with his cum.  But there was no way to stop sucking and swallowing.
Dad wouldn't release his hands from my head.

Slowly Dad pulled his cock out of my mouth, squeezing it, milking one last
stream of cum, a stream I lapped up as greedily as any animal would lap up
any meal.  I had been fed.  He stood there.  On my knees before him, I
removed my gaze from his cock.  His pajamas had fallen to the wet
ground. His pajama shirt was undone.  His hairy belly heaved with each
breath.  Dad reached for me and raised me to my feet.

"Get up, James."

I got up.

"Now, here's what your going to do.  Get out of those shorts and spit on
your cock.  I want you to lube it up.  And you know what I'm going to do?"
Here Dad paused to spit in the palm of his hand.  "I'm going to lube my ass
with my spit.  You are going to fuck me right here.  Right now."

"What about a condom?"

 "No condom, Boy.  I want to feel you shoot deep inside of me."

We went to work.  My spit was thick, still tasting like Dad's cum.  In no
time my cock was slick.  Dad spat in his hand a couple of times, bending
over, and trying his best to lube his hole with his spit.  I helped him
out; my thick fingers were covered with my thick spit.  I worked them deep
inside Dad's tight hole.  I kept adding more spit, and I kept working on
Dad's hole.

"That's it, Boy.  Work that hole.  It's been a long time.  A real long
time.  And when you slide your prick in me, you are going to go where very
few men have ever gone.  You are going to be one of the few to fuck your
old man.  And -- oh baby -- your cock is going to be the biggest cock to
make its way up my shit hole...Uh...work that ass.  Get it ready, Baby."

My fingers looked so beautiful working Dad's hole.  His hands were on his
needs, and his hairy ass stuck out, waiting to receive whatever I had to
give.  I started with my fingers, watching as his hole took one, then two,
then three of my fingers.  Watching as his sphincter closed up when I
pulled each finger out.  Watching again as his hole greedily took my spit
slick fingers.  Watching as he squirmed with pleasure as each finger worked
its way in, stretching his hole once again.  Making him ready for my cock.

I doubted I'd be able to fuck Dad for long.  I was already holding back --
I could have cum with one touch.  The thought of my Dad's ass walls
gripping my cock was enough to put me over the edge.  The actual reality?
Too much.  Too fucking much.  But I was determined to pierce the man who
had fathered me.  I was determined to pleasure myself even as I violated
his hole.  And he wanted it.  Oh how he wanted it.

"Fuck me, Boy.  Come on.  FUCK ME NOW!  See my hole, see how it takes your
fingers, squeezing tight.  That what your cock is gonna feel as soon as you
stick it in.  Come on, Boy.  Stick it in."

And with no more hesitation or foreplay, I fucked my Dad.

I spit on my cock one last time, moved my prick to his hole, and started
entry.  Dad took a few deep breaths.  He grimaced.  He squirmed.  He
moaned.  And he kept on telling me what to do: "Fuck me, James.  Come on,
Boy.  Fuck me.  Put it in there."

I didn't hesitate.  I didn't think of his pain.  I didn't think that I
might be too big, too soon.  I just pushed and slowly my cock disappeared
into my Dad's eager ass.  He was tight.  The little light there was showed
clearly how far my cock had gone.  It had disappeared.  Dad had taken it.
And then I started to move.  My first few thrusts were slow.  But I could
tell Dad wanted more.  Dad told me he wanted more.

"Harder, fuckboy.  Harder..."

I obliged.  I fucked him hard.  Thrust after thrust and in thirty seconds I
was shooting deep inside my old man.

"You feel that, Daddy?  You feel your boy's seed."

"Oh, Jimmy.  That...is...so...fucking...beautiful.  Don't move.  Keep it in
there."

And though I had already shot a load, my cock remained hard.  Dad remained
eager.  And I kept fucking him.  I rode him hard.  So hard he had to move;
he couldn't keep his balance.  My cock stayed in him as I forced him down
to his hands and knees.  My balls were flapping against his hole.

"You feel that Dad?  You feel 'em don't you?  You feel my balls.  They're
still full of cum.  You want more cum, don't you, Daddy?  Don't you,
Daddy?"

But Dad had stopped speaking.  He just moaned.  Groaned.  His pleasure was
absolute.  I fucked away.  Slamming him so hard he moved to his elbows.
His face was wet with dew.  My cock, now slick with my cum, worked its way
deeper.  I added a finger; my cock and my forefinger were now working Dad's
sphincter stretching it wider than ever before.

I came again.  And this second orgasm was like no other orgasm; it was more
primal, more complete, more absolute.  It wracked my spine with pleasure.
I shot and shot and shot.  And Dad took each load.  And with each stream of
semen I deposited in his ass, Dad grunted and shoved his ass back, as it to
take more of my cock..  As if he wished to take my semen deeper.  As if --
even now -- he hadn't had enough.

When I pulled out, certain I had given all I had to give and certain Dad
had taken all he could take, Dad turned around.  And, still on his hands
and knees, he put my cum covered cock in his mouth, cleaning it with greedy
relish.  I took his head from my cock and forced my tongue down his throat.
He threw me to the ground, removed his mouth from mine, and spat into my
eager mouth.  He spat again, and I devoured what he had to give me. I could
taste my cum.  I could taste Dad's spit.  And I wanted all of it.

We kissed.  Still hungry for contact.  Dad was hard again.  I had never
really lost my erection, even after two massive ejaculations.  But we were
wet.  And even thought the night was warm, we grew cold.

"YOU --my boy -- are one hot fuck."

"And you -- my father -- know how to get fucked like a pro."

"You think?"

"I know, Dad.  Two loads in rapid succession.  I would say you were fucked
like a pro."

"I loved every minute of it, Baby."

"And every inch?"

"Every fucking inch and every fucking ounce."

"You sure it wasn't every gallon?"

"You know, Baby, the way your cum is seeping out of my hole right now, it
may very well have been a gallon or two."

We stayed there, silent for a few moments.  My right hand held Dad's hard
cock.  My left arm cradled his head.

"What now, Dad?"

"What do you want, James?"

"I want more."

"You will have more.  You will have as much as you want, Son."

"Sounds odd doesn't it, Dad.?  You calling me son.  I just fucked you.  You
just filled my mouth with your cum."

"It is odd.  But -- and, I hate to break this to you, buddy -- but you are
my son.  AND you have just been the best fuck I've ever had."

"What do you make of that?  What are we going to do?"

"Don't you worry, Baby.  I'll take care of everything.  I'm your dad."