Date: Sun, 20 Apr 2003 03:43:14 EDT
From: KissAndCuddleGem@aol.com
Subject: Dad's Just Desserts (Installment 3)

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.  Moreover, none of the actions of the characters in this
story is presented with the intent to condone, approve, or sanction their
behavior.  All questions and/or comments are welcome; and, if you wish to
contact me, please feel free to email me at: KissAndCuddleGem@AOL.COM; and
I will most definitely respond to email, as appropriate.


For Ronnie, who now preferred to be called Ron, it was in many ways a time
of both beginnings and endings.  Ronnie was one month shy of thirty now.
He had been recently placed with a family of his own: A wife, Gracie, whom
he adored and without question was of saintly patience when it came to
Ronnie and putting up with his on-and-off dark moods.  Plus a son, Casey,
now just a few weeks past six months.

It was the day of the Easter holiday family picnic, an annual community
event much-cherished and much-anticipated.

Ronnie was resting on a nearby bench for a few minutes, taking a break from
the various athletic events for dads and watch Gracie continue to make
Casey laugh while the two partaked as a pair in the Easter egg roll.  It
was the cutest thing: Casey could barely grip the spoon as his mother egged
him on, excuse the pun.  Gracie looked his way for a moment; and was very
pleased to see her robust hubby smiling in a most peaceful way.

Ronnie nodded, upon seeing Gracie wave at him.  Then Ronnie's thoughts
drifted away from his family and back to his dad.  He recalled this scene
from his early childhood, a shadowy memory sweeping through his mind and
seeming so real to him even now:

It all began quite innocently.  Ronnie had just been dropped off by a
neighbor; barely five, he scrambled through the doorway, yelling at almost
decibels unknown to man: "Daddy, I wanna get a puppy!  Can I have one,
Daddy?  Please!...."  Suddenly he realized that his father was nowhere to
be seen; and he ran from room to room until he found his father, his face
buried in his hands and his body lounged over the kitchen table.  The aroma
of freshly-baked apple pie still being kept warm in the oven virtually
enveloped the entire space.

"Daddy, what's wrong?", Ronnie whispered with hesitation.

"Well, it is all going to be all right.  Mommy has just had to take a
little trip, that's all.  So we big guys are just going to have to get by
without her for a bit, OK, tiger?", Jake replied, raising his head.

"Sure, we will be okay, Daddy, please don't cry."

Ronnie did not really understand what had actually happened, with regard to
his mother and all that: He was simply a bit too young; and his father was
being purposefully very vague, to protect him for his own good.

Ronnie did know, however, that he could always make his daddy smile.  "Is
that apple pie I smell, Daddy?", he asked, giggling.

"Yes, Ronnie, I made it just for you, I know how much you love it."
Ronnie, upon hearing this, hugged Jake tightly around his waist.  Jake
patted him on the head in return; and as he did so, Ronnie saw that he was
now smiling.

Dollops of whipped cream were generously placed by Jake on the layers of
pie pushed onto their plates.  Ronnie was a bit tired from all of the games
and activities at kindergarten and the hour was a bit later than their
normal dinner time.  So as the grandfather clock in the foyer chimed nine,
Jake helped Ronnie finish the delectable dessert by carefully spooning the
remaining pie into his mouth.  Shortly after, while they were sitting
together in the living room, Ronnie fell asleep while his head was resting
on his father's lap.  He had just mumbled: "I love you, Daddy.", just
before drifting off to dreamland that is.

Ronnie woke up in the middle of the night, a breeze from the window
awakening him from his slumber.  Ronnie thought he was cold and got out of
bed to close the window, quickly hopping back in to get away from the
draft.  He closed his eyes almost all the way; but suddenly he heard a
click from the side of his bed and the room was now full of light, as he
saw from the corner of his eyes.

Ronnie sat straight up, looking a bit perplexed.  He saw his father
smiling, though unlike earlier, completely nude.  "Daddy, you'll catch cold
like that, I'll get your robe," he said, genuinely concerned.  Jake simply
put his finger to his lips; and Ronnie recognized this as their secret sign
for him to be very quiet.

Jake undressed his son, removing his pajama top first and then his bottoms.
All the while he looked admiringly into his son's eyes, whispering: "My
angel, my beautiful, beautiful angel."  Ronnie did not understand what was
happening or why as his daddy touched him and kissed him over and over that
night: All he knew was that it felt really good and that he was making his
daddy happy, pleasing him and being as good a boy he could be.  Ronnie knew
that he did not want to ever see his daddy cry like earlier ever again.

Jake began to caress Ronnie's tummy, using his palms in a circular motion.
He was careful not to hurt Ronnie in any way and not to leave any
noticeable marks.  He looked down at Ronnie, eying him sweetly as the young
tyke was lying serenely on his back.  At one point, he rose from the bed
and turned towards the door as if stopping himself in his tracks.  But
within moments he was back on Ronnie's superhero-decorated spread, kneeling
between his own flesh and blood's legs and giving in, weakly without
question, to his strong urges.

Jake admired the healthy red locks that trimmed the child's forehead.  He
loved the blue eyes that almost always sparkled.  He loved the thick lips
and the way they smacked a great deal as the day's dessert was deftly
devoured as darkness began.  He kissed Ronnie very hard on the lips and
with his fingers gently pried Ronnie's lips apart.  He slid his tongue into
Ronnie's mouth and continued kissing Ronnie.  "Always stay with me, never
leave me, you are mine, only mine...", he repeated over and over as he was
sliding his licked fingers under Ronnie and into Ronnie's tender, tight
hole.  As Ronnie began to softy moan in response, Jake turned his attention
to Ronnie's tiny one- and one-half inch-long member, completely hairless
and, at the same time, so remarkably soft and perfect.  Jake was in what
resembled a state of bliss, his burly hairy chest heaving a bit at times
but his body otherwise almost totally still as he took great care not to
harm tiny Ronnie.  All appeared to Ronnie then as if it was occurring in
slow motion as the following happened: Jake licked gently around the
slightly rose-colored head of the cock and tenderly kissed and licked the
skin of the shaft until Ronnie was semi-hard; and then he took Ronnie's
entire cock and also his sweet little sac and teeny "acorns of love" into
the warmth of his eager mouth and began to pleasure Ronnie orally as if
tomorrow would never come.  Jake, finding himself unable to pull himself
away, continued to suck Ronnie this way until the wee hours of the dawn.

Ronnie remembered all of this, bitterly dwelling on each and every detail
as he did so.  He felt robbed of his childhood, robbed of his innocence,
and very much betrayed by the one person he always though he would love.
But then he was back to reality, as Gracie put his young son, a cherub if
there ever was one in both features and disposition, in his loving arms.
Gracie then went away to make them all sundaes at a picnic table a few feet
away.

Cradling his infant son, the very product of his loins, he swore under his
breath that he would not allow Jake to win and he would find a way to
forgive him.

Ronnie shivered as he remembered his college-age cousins telling him tales
of Jake and his father being intimate together, sharing a bed,
skinnydipping, and fooling around with each other's bodies in
community-accomodation showers.  It was their way of saying that Jake was
not all that bad, that he was as much a victim as a "perp".  At the time he
first was told these things, they provided little solace to him.  But now,
Ronnie rationalized, perhaps he could use some of this information as sort
of a justification for him forgiving the man.

Yes, indeed: Perhaps this was the easiest route, he mused: sort of like
allowing a little info to go a long way.  After all, he remembered from his
many years of mother-arranged therapy with Doctor Chambers, at least this:
that incest commony runs in families and that it is unhealthy to harbor
such hatred towards his own father without knowing more about the father's
own story.

Ronnie began to kiss his son, his sweet little Casey, on the cheeks,
re-assuring him through soft whispered words that he will always love his
little one and that he will never do to him what his own dad had done to
his "beloved Ronnie".

That night, however, Ronnie got the biggest wakeup call of his life.  Casey
had been crying very loudly; and it was Ronnie's turn to take care of
things, so to speak, while Gracie enjoyed a much-deserved rest.  Ronnie
went into the sky-blue-painted room and began to tuck a now-soundly
sleeping Casey very snugly under the covers.  He noticed the blissful
expression on Casey's face and enjoyed hearing his gentle, breeze-like
breathing.  Then, within a few moments, almost without even thinking about
what he was doing, he bent over the railing of the crib and kissed his son
very firmly on the lips.  He felt that out-of-control feeling, the very
same feeling he had while in bed with his father the night of his at-school
teenage triumph.  For about three whole minutes, he kissed his still-asleep
son in the same lustful manner that his father had again and again kissed
him.

Ronnie, horrified by his own actions, then ran from the room and stayed for
an hour in the bathroom.  He returned to bed in the quietest manner he
could muster, his countenance beet red and his feeling inside simply dirty,
even approaching squalid.

The next day Ronnie was on the phone with a now-grandfatherly Dr. Chambers,
making an appointment to see him as soon as possible.

Ronnie vowed that he would keep this secret; and that he would take it with
him to the grave: He reasoned that no one close to him would ever be able
to understand what happened in the room; and that if anyone walked in on
it, they could just as easily interpreted it all as a father innocently
lavishing affection on his sweet son.

They, meaning his family and friends, would never know that history almost
repeated itself, that Ronnie almost became another "Jake".

But Ronnie knew the truth.  He knew extremely well that for reasons he
might never fully understand he had almost lost all, all that mattered to
him at any rate, forever: his wife and his son and their love.  After
another seven years with Dr. Chambers, he was seated on a rocker on the
porch and looked up into the sky, whispering almost inaudibly: "I forgive
you, Dad.  I really do understand now.  I, too, almost got my just
desserts."