Date: Wed, 18 Jul 2007 19:52:16 -0500
From: Francis Klein <jmyska@comcast.net>
Subject: Dad's Massage - Chapter 4

Dad's Massage

Chapter 4

	After my Dad fucked me for the first time, our lives settled into a
rhythm. He was good for his word and never denied me the sex that I
increasingly craved. Anything I ever wanted to do to him or with him, he
let me and participated enthusiastically with whatever I proposed. In that
way, we were perfectly matched sex partners. Of course I never let on to
anyone else about anything that happened between he and I. It was too
precious and private to spoil it, and, somehow instinctively, I knew that
telling anyone would mess up the good thing I had going.
	I assumed that Dad felt the same way, so I never asked him. We
didn't talk much more about things over the months, we just lived the way
we'd always lived only now we included time for sex every day; sometimes
twice a day or more. But by the end of that first summer as lovers, I found
out that Dad hadn't kept things completely to himself.
	Twice a year, my Dad would go on an overnight hunting trip with one
of his buddies who lived in the next town. Dad didn't have too many
friends, just a few other Cajun farmers who lived in the area. I'd met most
of them at one time or another. All of them were men a lot like my Dad,
rugged outdoorsmen who were simple, and masculine and down to earth. Most
of them were married (although I'd never met any of their wives) and had
kids that attended my high school.
	Mr. Cecil was the man Dad hunted with and he was my favorite of
Dad's friends. He was the only man I'd ever seen who could make my Dad seem
a little small. Now, as I've said, my Dad wasn't small by any
standards. But standing next to Mr. Cecil could make him seem that
way. Mr. Cecil was that big. He was at least 6'6" and had to have weighed
more than 250 pounds. Like all hardworking farm men, most of it was muscle
with just a little that wasn't around his belly. His middle wasn't soft
with fat, though, just rounded a bit and hard as a rock.
	Mr. Cecil was blessed with a head full of dark wavy hair that he
kept buzzed down really short. And his face was always covered with black
stubble no matter how often he shaved. He had huge hands and feet and had
shoulders almost as wide as any doorway he entered. When I was little, he
used to pick me up and throw me in the air like I weighed nothing at all,
which compared to him, I didn't. He also had the deepest voice I'd ever
heard.
	That's why I didn't mind when Dad told me that Mr. Cecil would be
coming back to the house when they were done hunting. His wife and kids
were in Texas visiting her mother and would be gone for the week. Dad asked
me if I'd mind if Mr. Cecil stayed with us for a few days so that they
could get in some fishing after the hunt. Of course it helped that Dad
reassured me with a wink that he'd make time for me at night like I'd
gotten used to. He also told me that they'd take me fishing with them if I
wanted to go.
	So while they were off on their overnight trip I put sheets back on
the bed in my room since no one had slept there once Dad and I started
sleeping together in his room. On the day they were returning, I made a
huge supper. As big as he was I knew Mr. Cecil was bound to eat a lot so I
made sure I had plenty prepared. I was glad I did too because they came in
around dark hungry and tired from the hunt.
	As soon as they came in the door I was ready with beers for both of
them, which they took gratefully. They were both pretty dirty and smelly
from their day so I asked them if they were ready to eat or if they wanted
to get cleaned up first. Dad suggested that dinner would probably taste
better after a hot shower so he took Mr. Cecil to our bathroom and got him
some towels.
	While he was getting cleaned up Dad came back to the kitchen to
help me. We set the table for supper and got the food ready to put on the
table as soon as Dad was cleaned up. When he heard the bathroom door open,
he headed back to take his turn in the shower. Shortly after he went back,
Mr. Cecil came into the kitchen drying his back with a towel wearing only a
baggy pair of once white jockey underwear. "How about another beer, Bud?"
he asked as entered.
	I had a hard time tearing my eyes off him as I reached into the
fridge for his brew. As impressive and huge as he was dressed, Mr. Cecil
was even more incredible stripped down to drawers.
 Like Dad, he was extremely hairy all over his body, maybe even more than
Dad. His bulging chest was covered with a thick coating of fur, so thick
that it was hard to make out his nipples. The hair also covered his stomach
and thickened even more at the waistband of his underwear, which was riding
very low on his hips. I was actually surprised when he turned to walk to a
chair to discover that his back and shoulders weren't hairy at all. With
all that covering on the front and on his arms and legs as well I thought
sure that they would be, but they were smooth. He did have a patch that
started low on his back, though, which meant that it probably also covered
his big muscular ass as well.  I was taking this all in when he sat down,
stretched his legs straight out in front of him and tossed his head back to
guzzle half of his beer. Sitting, the front of his briefs, even though they
weren't tight, bulged out enormously. The soft worn cloth of the jockeys
had clearly seen a lot of wear and it clung thinly over his manhood in a
big arching curve. "Damn," I thought to myself, "that bulge looks even
bigger than Dad's."  I quickly turned away from him and started to bring
food to the table so I wouldn't be caught staring. By the time I had put
the last of it out, Dad came back into the kitchen . Since we had company,
Dad had put on a pair of his boxers. He joined Mr. Cecil and I and we all
sat down to eat.  All through the meal the two men talked about their hunt
while I listened. I kept stealing glances at Mr. Cecil when he'd relax back
in his chair hoping to be able to make out more details about his
equipment. Once when I looked up, Dad was looking straight at me and
grinned at me as though he knew what I'd been up to.  I kept getting them
more beers while we ate and by the time they were full, they were on their
fifth one. I'd never seen Dad drink that much and I could tell both of them
were getting a little drunk. They kept sitting there and drinking and
laughing and talking while I cleared up the leftovers and put all the
dishes in the sink.  "Those can stay there till morning, Bud" Dad said to
me standing. "Why don't you bring us another beer in the living room. Bring
one for yourself too if you want."
	I wasted no time grabbing three more and followed them into the
living room. Both men flopped down on either end of the couch and motioned
me to sit in between them. Our couch was long, but with two big men already
spread out on it, there was barely room for me to squeeze into the space
that was left. "To good friends and good times," Dad said winking at me as
he raised his beer in a toast. We clinked our bottles together and all took
a long swallow.
	I didn't know why, but I was nervous as hell sitting between these
two nearly naked hunks. I guess it was because when Dad and I were here by
ourselves I could do what I wanted if I got horny. And the more I looked
from one to the other of them as they continued to talk the hornier I
got. They were slouched way down in their seats with their legs spread to
the point that there was no way not to touch. I was wearing a pair of gym
shorts and a tank top, so I could clearly feel hairy calves and thighs
rubbing my legs on either side. The feeling was beginning to make my dick
stiffen and I was scared I'd spring an obvious boner any minute.
	I tried to calm myself by drinking big swallows of beer, which
worked in a way, but soon I began to feel warm and a little woozy. The
mellower I got, the more I found myself looking over at Mr. Cecil's
crotch. I was astonished when he reached down and slipped his hand under
his waistband and scratched around in his bush while he continued to speak
to my Dad. Then he reached further and it looked like he gave his dick a
tug and rearranged his balls before removing his hand. I hadn't taken my
eyes off his hand the whole time he fondled his privates. As he was
removing it, I felt Dad drape his arm across the back of the sofa behind me
and give my shoulder a squeeze.
	"How you feeling, Bud?" he asked me.
	"Fine, Dad," I squeaked.
	Then he totally shocked me by asking, "Good enough to give
Mr. Cecil here one of your foot and leg massages before bed?"
	I whipped my head toward him with what had to be panic in my
eyes. "I told him what a good job you do on my feet and he could sure use
one after all the walking we did on our hunt," he said winking at me again.
	"Yeah, Bud, " Mr. Cecil added in that deep growl of a voice. "I
could use some attention, unless you're too tired or you'd rather not."
	"No, I'm sure he'd like to take care of you, wouldn't you Bud?" Dad
asked.
	"Ok," I said shyly.
	"That's my boy, " said Dad squeezing my shoulder again. "Why don't
you take Mr. Cecil back to your room so he can be ready for bed when you're
done. We've had a long day and we're both pretty beat. You can come to my
room and crawl into bed when you're done."
	We all stood and headed to the back of the house. As we walked, my
head was reeling both from the beer and the idea of being alone with
Mr. Cecil in my room. Massaging my Dad always made me mad horny and I never
got through one without feasting on his dick while I worked. I didn't know
how I would manage to touch Mr. Cecil without wanting sex, but I knew that
I had to try to control myself. "At least he has his underwear on," I
thought. "That may help me get through this."
	Dad went into his room and shut the door as we continued down the
hall. When we got to my room Mr. Cecil crawled up on the bed and stretched
out laying his head on the pillow. He was so big and tall that his feet
hung over the end of the bed a good six inches. "I really appreciate this,
Bud. My feet and legs are really tired and I could use a good rubbing," he
said as he sleepily relaxed into the pillows. "Rub as hard a you want to,
you can't hurt me. With all that beer I'll probably fall asleep soon
anyway."
	I knelt on the floor at the end of the bed and nervously started
working on his left foot. It was enormous, much bigger than Dad's. And I
had to work much harder digging into the muscles before I felt his tension
start to ease. "Yeah, Bud," he sighed, "That feels great."
	His encouragement relaxed me a little bit and I started to get into
it by the time I finished his other foot. When it was done I stood to get
on the end of the bed to start working on his calves. He spread his legs
for me so I got up between them then lifted his foot, bending his leg at
the knee. I wrapped my hands around his calf and started to squeeze and
stroke his giant muscles finally sneaking a glance at his reclining
form. When I'd been massaging his feet I made sure to look only at what I
was doing, scared to look anywhere else. When I glanced up, I saw that his
eyes were closed so I quickly lowered my gaze to his crotch.
	Once again, the bulge in his briefs riveted my attention. I quickly
scanned my eyes back up to make sure his were still closed, before lowering
them again to get a better look. I couldn't believe how huge the curving
pouch of his underwear looked from this close. I could clearly make out the
outline of his dick as it curved first up, then down and tucked under. Two
big round shapes spread out on either side of his tube. The whole thing had
stretched out the worn fabric creating gaps at the sides that were filled
with a riot of wiry black hair.
	I knew that I shouldn't, but I couldn't stop staring. I was digging
into the muscles of his calf the whole time and it wasn't long before they
were completely unkinked. As I laid his leg carefully back down on the bed,
he groaned softly and flexed his hips as he raised an arm and placed it
over his head. He squirmed his butt again as he settled in. His movement
had pushed his crotch forward at a more upturned angle. This angle caused
his dick to loosen its tucked position and I watched as it unfurled and
moved forward. I could clearly make out the enormous helmet at the end of
his shaft now and I found myself gulping at its sheer size.
	Even covered by fabric I could tell that the head was a lot wider
than the shaft. It was much bigger than a ripe plum and had a vaguely
defined tip and I found myself wondering if that was because, like my Dad,
he was uncut. The thought of a cockhead that size covered with foreskin set
my mouth watering. I bent his other leg and reached for his calf trying to
think of a way I could find out.
	The whole time I worked on his calf I was trying to think of a way
to just get a look inside that pouch to satisfy my curiosity. Then
Mr. Cecil lazily reached down and inserted his hand in his crotch. He
reached in and scratched his balls as I watched. His big hand stretched the
fabric of his briefs out causing the leg openings to gap even more. When he
removed it they were looser at the sides. I hoped it was enough to give me
a glimpse when I moved up to his thighs.
	By the time I finished his calf, Mr. Cecil was snoring lightly and
I knew that this was my chance. I moved to one side of him and began to rub
up and down on the top of his thigh. I leaned into the motion and lowered
my head to try and catch a peek through the opening at the side. I couldn't
see much more than a lot of pubic hair and the outside skin of his
ballsack. I was frustrated but couldn't figure out how to get a better
look.
	Then I heard him say softly, "You want me to take them off?"
	I immediately froze not knowing what to do. I knew I was caught and
wanted to curl up and die where I sat.
	"It's okay, Bud," he said. "I don't mind. Go ahead and take them
off if you want." Then he lifted his butt to make it easier for me. After a
moment of indecision, I reached for his waistband and pulled his underwear
over his butt and down his legs as he lifted them into the air so I could
slip them over his feet. As he stretched out his legs again he finished by
saying, "Just don't stop rubbing my legs. It feels really nice."
	I quickly got my hands back into motion as I stared in awe at what
had been hidden in that worn and stretched pouch. I knew immediately that
his underwear had worn out from trying in vain to contain so much
manhood. Mr. Cecil's dick was so big it almost didn't look real. Besides
the obvious size, the first thing I noticed was that I'd been right, he was
uncut with an abundance of foreskin that was a sight to behold. It didn't
pucker at the end the way Dad's does, but instead hung in a loose curtain
more than an inch past the end of the enormous head.
	The helmet shaped head was even bigger than I had thought. It
flared sharply where it joined the thick shaft. The shaft itself was heavy
and wide and ran straight with no tapering in any direction from root to
just behind the head. It looked at least 8 inches long completely
unaroused. You'd think that his balls would be dwarfed by the size of such
a horsecock, but you'd be wrong. If anything, the size of his nuts made you
have to look again to realize that the length of his dick was heroic.
	Mr. Cecil had been watching me study his meat and when I looked up
he said, "Your Daddy told me how good you've been making him feel, Bud. You
can make me feel good too if you want. Or you can just look. Its up to
you." And with that, he settled back and closed his eyes again to give me a
chance to make up my mind. It didn't take me long.
	I reached over and put my hand around the thick shaft and lifted it
into my palm. I was shocked by its weight. It was still soft and rubbery to
the touch but it had an even meatier feel to it than I was used to with
Dad. Dad's dick is big, but Mr. Cecil's can only be described as
colossal. Wrapped around the huge tool, my fingers remained about an inch
apart, which told me that he was way thicker than Dad too. The gap on Dad's
girth measured half that amount.
	I gave the shaft a couple of easy strokes getting the feel for it
in my hand. It moved like a giant snake as I stroked it, the flaring head
on its end reminding me of a cobra about to strike. I reached with my other
hand while I was still stroking him and grasped that fat cockhead in my
palm, which couldn't begin to contain it. I slid the loose foreskin around
and around without even revealing the tip of his cock. Damn, he had a lot
of it. I stroked my fist up allowing it all to move forward until it was
hanging obscenely from the end of his dick.
	I was so intent on exploring that I wasn't aware of anything but
the second man-sized dick I had ever seen. But I must have made some kind
of noise, because I heard Mr. Cecil say, "You like that, Bud?" in his sexy
low-pitched drawl.
	I didn't answer him out loud, just slowly shook my head yes without
looking up as I continued to eye the long enticing overhang. "Go ahead and
get closer to it, then," he continued. "I promise it won't bite you."
	I looked up then and saw that he was grinning while intently
watching me through his half closed eyes. Without releasing my hold on his
piece I shifted my position so that I was back between his spread legs and
lowered my belly to the sheets, propping my self up on my elbows. Now my
face was only inches from the prize. I resumed jacking him shallowly to
watch his skin move. I gave the shaft a shake, wiggling it up and down. The
hanging foreskin was long enough that it flapped up and down independently
waving at my mesmerized gaze. "Go ahead and taste it, Bud," Mr. Cecil said
seductively. "I can tell that you want to."
	Of course he was right, so I leaned forward and sucked the entire
inch or so of it into my mouth. It was loose and abundant and had a huge
opening with no tight puckering at all. As I slid my tongue inside the wide
I opening I realized that it made sense that it was so big and loose
otherwise the skin would never be able to slide over Mr. Cecil's fantastic
mushroom shaped head. I spent a minute or two munching and licking and
sucking on all of that skin while continuing to jack on the shaft. It was
gradually getting firmer and fatter in my hand, but it still had a long way
to go until it was hard.
	"Yeah, Bud," Mr. Cecil sighed. "Keep doing that. Chew on it as hard
as you want, it feels real good to me. Keep going and it'll get hard for
you, baby." He was softly stroking the back of my head as he spoke which in
itself was new since Dad and I rarely talked much during sex. Determined to
make him feel good enough to get hard I trapped his wet foreskin between my
small teeth pulling and biting as I worked my way to its end.
	"Mmmm, that's it, Bud," he groaned. "Damn that feels good, you're
making me hard now, see? Now stick your tongue inside there for me and lick
on the head a little."
	It was making me hot to follow his instructions so I thrust my
tongue all the way into the wide opening and swirled it around like I had
learned to love doing on my Dad. But unlike with Dad, there was plenty of
room inside Mr. Cecil's overhang to move my tongue around freely. Also, the
tube of skin rode much further up my tongue before I finally felt the tip
stroke the rounded end of his head. The texture I encountered was smooth
and wet and tasted delicious. I wasted no time in finding the enormous slit
that ran up the middle of the curve and worked the tip of my tongue into it
to see if he'd reward me with a bit of his juice.
	"Oh, yes, Bud, that's it," he encouraged and flexed his dick hard
by squeezing his hips. I felt it get even harder as the head expanded and
the slit flowered open to release a big gush of ball juice. I sucked hard
on his foreskin then, like a straw in my mouth, to extract all the juice so
I could taste it and compare what I found to my Dad. Mr. Cecil's precum was
stronger and sharper tasting than Dad's, both saltier and more pungent,
more animal tasting somehow. It was different, but I loved it and it seemed
to fit him.
	I dove in again with my tongue and hungrily circled the helmet as
Mr. Cecil's manhood continued to harden. I was concentrating so intently on
his cockhead that I had lost any sense of how much it had grown. I backed
off the head and began to lick down the sides of the shaft to get a sense
of how much it was changing. It was a long way down to his base. I knew Dad
was 10 inches when hard. He'd let me measure him one night while we were
playing. Mr. Cecil was longer than that, by at least a couple of inches. He
was thicker too. Dad's had measured a whopping 7 inches around. The dick in
my hand had to be at least 9.
	After slobbering up and down the shaft several times it was hard as
a rock and reached its fully erect size. I looked up at it from down at his
pubes and it towered above my head. "It's big, huh, Bud?" Mr. Cecil asked
and I could hear a kind of satisfied smirk in his voice. "It's the only
dick in three counties bigger than your Dad's," he assured me like he had
conducted personal research into the matter and knew for sure what he was
reporting. The idea that I was worshipping the biggest, meanest dick in
these parts, a full foot of man meat no less, filled me with so much lust
that it didn't occur to me till much later to wonder how he knew how big my
Dad was hard, much less all the other men who lived in these parts.
	At that moment, all that I could think about was how I was going to
ever get even part of it into my mouth to pay it the respect it deserved. I
lifted back up and grabbed the shaft with both hands and pulled down trying
to retract the entire foreskin. But I hadn't reached high enough and when
my fists reached his bush only the last inch of his head was peeking out
from its protective cloak. I opened my mouth as wide as it would go and
covered the exposed part sucking and swirling my tongue. I moved forward to
engulf more of the head pushing the rest of his foreskin back with my lips.
	There was a deep cleft underneath the long piss slit where his
foreskin attached to the head. You know that sensitive spot that makes you
crazy if you rub it when you're jacking off? Well, Mr. Cecil's was almost
heart shaped where his thick ridge curved down from the slit then around to
circle the top of the head. I kept running my tongue in and out of that
cleft teasing and attending to that sensitive spot until Mr. Cecil let go
of a deep growling moan. The piss slit heaved open again and a gush of new
juice shot out with enough force that I wasn't quite sure if he'd come
already. But, when he reached with both hands and pressed my head down a
little further and rammed a little more of the helmet in my mouth I knew he
was just warming up.
	"Yeah, take some more, Bud," he commanded. "That's it. And keep
doing that with your tongue."
	I did as he ordered fighting for more of him as I
worked. Swallowing this dickhead was like trying to put a medium sized
apple in your mouth without taking a bite. It's fortunate that I'd been
practicing on Dad or else I don't think I could have gotten very far. It's
also very fortunate that my mouth waters so much when I'm sucking dick. It
was going to take all the saliva I could produce plus more of his slick
juice to be able to fit the whole thing in. But I was determined.
	I was bobbing furiously now, advancing a few centimeters at a time
with each downward plunge of my mouth. Mr. Cecil was still holding my head
and thrusting his hips off the bed and letting loose with a continuous
babble of encouragement punctuated with spurt after spurt of slick cock
juice. "Damn, Bud," he cried. "That feels good. Most people can't even take
that much of me. You're doing great. Keep that up and I'll cum for you real
good."
	Finally, I unhinged my jaw and impossible quarter inch more and all
of the spit and precum filling my mouth gushed over his dickhead flowing
like rivers all down the shaft. I used it to slick up his pole allowing my
hands to slide wetly up and down his rock hard shaft. I twisted each hand
in opposite directions as they moved up and down while forcing my mouth at
last over the ridge until my lips clamped down over the beginning of his
foot-long sausage.
	That was all I could take, but apparently it was enough because
Mr. Cecil started grunting and rutting unable to even form words. My tongue
was working at the cleft once again and I kept swirling my whole mouth in
semi-circular motions. Now that the whole head was in I wasn't going to
back off it till he shot my mouth full of juice. So I kept doing anything I
could think of to apply friction while furiously continuing my two-handed
jacking squeezing as hard as I could.
	Suddenly I felt Mr. Cecil's entire body go rigid as he lifted his
ass entirely off the bed. He was tossing his head side to side on the
pillow and his eyes were rolled back in their sockets.  "Oh, shit," he all
but hollered in surprise. "Shit, here it comes. You're gonna make me come!"
	Then his piss slit erupted with thick, heavy ropes of his sperm. I
had to back off a bit to allow some of it into my mouth. It was dense and
heavy, more solid than liquid, and even more tangy than his precum had
been. I couldn't swallow fast enough to keep up with the flow. The excess
literally exploded out all around the sides showering his crotch and his
legs. He kept going and going till I feared I might drown before he finally
collapsed back down on the bed still moaning and whimpering unintelligibly.
	After swallowing down what was in my mouth I began to greedily lick
up all that I'd lost when his orgasm had peaked. I licked his entire dick
and balls as well as his thick bush up to his navel. Then I went down both
of his legs cleaning the last of it off of his thighs. Once I was sure I'd
gotten it all, I laid my face gently on his crotch and continued to swab
his still semi-hard meat. He'd been sort of petting my head the whole time
I was claiming every drop of his sperm. Then he hugged me into his dick
when I lay my head down saying, "That's a good boy, Bud. That was
amazing. You're even better than your Daddy said. I haven't shot that hard
in a long time."
	Hearing him talk filled me with pride and contentment. Satisfying
such a huge manly man was a real accomplishment for me. I felt good about
the skills that I'd learned with my Dad and decided I was happy that Dad
had shared our secret with Mr. Cecil. I finally realized that he must have
known this might happen and had set it up so that it would. He didn't force
me or even ask me to do what I'd just done. He just made it possible
knowing that I would love to experience another encounter with a hot Cajun
man like him.
	I picked myself up with a grin on my face wanting to be with my Dad
so I could tell him how much I love him. And to thank him for making this
happen. "Sleep well, Mr. Cecil," I said as I was hopping off the bed.
	"I will now," he assured me. "You sleep well too, Bud. Oh, and tell
your Dad I said thanks and that I owe him one."
	"I will," I said back. "And I know just how he likes to be
thanked."
	We both gave each other a knowing grin and I turned out the light
as I left.