Date: Mon, 3 Sep 2007 20:30:08 +0100
From: enema champagne <champagne.enema@gmail.com>
Subject: Dad's Study Incentive

Dad's Study Incentive

:::   Part 1.   :::

by SonShine
-----------------------------------------


Dad rolled his car into the back of the school car park under shadowing
oaks. It was nine on the dot and the lot was full of empty cars ticking
and popping as they cooled down. It was the first day back at school
after the holidays; summer was truly over and the countdown to the
Christmas break began today. I intended to spend as much of the autumn
term getting stoned behind the recycling sheds as was humanly possible.

'Son, listen,' Dad started.  He was dressed for work in a white shirt
with yellow cuffs, deep red silk tie and grey suit trousers with subtle
stripes. His jacket hung from a hook in the back of the car. He reached
over to grab my chin and turned my head to face him. 'Listen,' he
repeated. You've got your GCSEs this year, don't you.'

'No, I start studying for them this year,' I answered back moodily. Exams
were just a way of testing your boredom threshhold. I watched his face,
which was hard to read behind sunglasses. His sideburns were flecked with
grey. The summer sun wasn't quite gone, it bounced off windscreens and
bonnets and lit up the inside of Dad's car.

'I want you to do well,' he said. 'I need some kind of guarantee that
you're going to knuckle down. How many exams you taking?'

'Nine.' I was a typical sullen fifteen year old, too cool to care about
anything my Dad might care about. My hand found the car door. As much as
school bored me I wanted to be out of the car before the inevitable
nagging started. He'd been on at me about my grades for the past two
years.

'Nine...' Dad repeated thoughtfuly. He straightened suddenly in his seat,
leaning backwards, pushing his backside up off the seat, neck bending as
his head reach the ceiling, and he slipped his hand into his suit
trousers. What the fuck? I glanced about but there was nobody around to
see. It was just me and Dad.

His hand worked about for a moment and came out again as he setled back
into his seat. He grabbed me by the chin again and held out his extended
index finger of his right hand. He held it right up to my nose.

'Smell that? That's what you get if you score nine A grades.' His shiny
black sunglass lenses fixed me in my place. I could feel his steady
heartbeat in the hand that held my chin, and in my nostrils was the smell
of a 38-year-old married father of one's crotch sweat. Let's just say you
could tell he hadn't showered that morning. Musky, manly. Balls. Hairy
balls and fresh piss. The lower half of his face was covered in thick
stubble and suddenly I could count every filament in it. His thumb pulled
my loose jaw open and he slid his finger into my mouth. It happened so
naturally that I involuntarily began to suck it gently. My eyes were
drawn to what could have been a length of pipe creeping down the inner
thigh of his right leg. Christ, it was as big as a cucumber. The tip of
his tie obscured half of it.

'If,' he repeated, breaking the silence. My cock rose in my trousers so
fast and hard it nearly tore a hole in them. His finger was pushed right
to the back of my tongue, almost causing me to gag. He seemed to know
just where to stop. The moment stretched out, daddy and boy, sunlight,
carpark, silence... and then it was over. He told me to hurry up and get
to my first class. I felt my books in my hands, heard the car door thump
shut and saw him wave, and I raced across the gravel toward the school
holding my ringbinders of notes over my crotch, which stayed rock hard
until first break when i was able to rush to the toilets and relieve the
aching swell in my balls, cumming so hard against the cubicle wall it
felt like an internal rupture.

Time never passes quite as slowly at any point in your life as it does in
school. A double french lesson can seem to span a fortnight, a school
term can feel like a decade. Oh I knuckled down, and that helped time
pass. My relationship with Dad didn't change over the following months;
he never acknowledged what he'd said and for many nights as I lay awake,
hot sperm dribbling its way from my chest down my sides to the topsheet
after thinking about his finger resting on my tongue, my lips lightly
clutching at it, and that long thick semi-erection in his trousers, I
wondered if had even happened at all.

Autumn, Winter, Spring. My mates kept bugging me to come out for a smoke
in the evenings but I would only do so at weekends, giving them excuses
about my parents cracking down on my poor academic performance. The rest
of the time I read, studied, revised, worked on past exam papers. On my
sixteenth birthday my parents bought me a new computer, I excitedly spent
the whole day setting it up, installing, connecting, contacting friends
on MSN and downloading revision notes on some of the books I had to read
while watching Dad's broad shoulders as he moved the lawn beneath my
bedroom window. In the evening he knocked on my door and told me I should
get to bed. He sat on my bed and patted the space next to him. I came and
sat, ever his obedient puppy.

'You've been working really hard this year,' he said. I could look him in
the eye again, after months of feeling my heart in my throat whenever we
spoke. Ever since he made me suck his finger I felt like a belonging of
his that I had to take care of. 'You're almost there. Now that you're old
enough, I thought your hard work deserved a little recognition.'

I assumed he meant the computer. I started to say thankyou and to promise
him i was going to use to to study but I trailed off.

He stood up and turned to face me, his crotch level with my face. He was
casual in cargo pants-style trousers and a fitted white tee. He unzipped
his trousers and pulled them down a few inches, releasing a bulbous
package hugged by smooth grey boxer briefs. Above the white waistband,
the skin of his belly was carpeted in thick black hair. Between the short
legs of his underwear and the waist of his trousers, which were prevented
from falling by the angle of his spread feet, an inch or so of hairy leg
showed.

And there it was again, that warm musky smell of daddy. He was 39 now.

'Give me your hands.'

I lifted my hands up to his, and he took them and placed them on his
tight arse. My fingers spread open across the fabric of his pants and our
body heat mingled. My stomach flipped over and my cock beat its record
speed for growing hard, popping up like a flick-knife in my pants. His
huge package seemed obscene thrust into my face like that. His hands
swallowed mine, rough and powerful, not letting my palms leave contact
with his pants-clad hips as he brought them round and pressed them to his
manhood. His pupils blocked out all the light in the room and nailed me
where I sat. His heavy balls and thick cock were now under my hands, kept
separate by the thinnest layer of cotton. I was powerless to move, to
speak, as I nervously cupped my father. Three distinct bulges, all pushed
together and hanging there, hot and smelling of Dad, in my hands. He
hitched his trousers back up and buttoned them at the waist, just under
the hairy curve of his stomach. My hands now protruded from his flies. I
wanted to spend the rest of my life here, like this.

That thing about an hour you spend in school warping into aeons, well it
works in reverse when your dad lets you touch him. The whole incident
must have taken ten minutes or so but it was over in a blink. He stepped
back and zipped up, ruffling my hair. He hadn't got at all hard or made a
sound to suggest he had enjoyed doing this to me. He didn't smile and he
didn't hesitate.

'Nine grade A's,' he reminded me. 'Or nothing.' He left the room, leaving
me alone with the banging in my ears and chest, his arse looking
beautiful in his cargo pants. There was no trace of him on my hands, no
matter how delicately I sniffed them.

I wanked six times in the night, and each time I came it was his firm
rounded bulge I pictured, his unsmiling face. I saw myself gently
palpating him with both hands, palms coursing over the contours of his
clothed genitals, not daring to go any further - to reach between his
legs and explore the crease between his buttocks even a little - because
he hadn't yet given me permission. I imagined him losing his composure
and pulling me close to him. I imagined him employing me to keep him warm
between the legs on cold nights. Paying me in deep lungfuls of his crotch
smell. I wondered if I'd be able to fit one of his enormous testicles in
my mouth, whether he'd let me keep trying until I managed it. No way both
of them, no more than i could fit two shiny red cricket balls in there. I
thought about my grades. They were getting better. I was getting fewer
C's and more B's. My teachers were saying encouraging things for once
instead of just bollocking me, and some even asked if I was buying
answers off the internet. But buying answers wouldn't help me pass those
exams.

It would be summer soon. I'd really have to concentrate to raise my
grades and keep them high. Maybe I could do this. My hand crept over to
rest on my sensitive groin and, like the rest of me, fell asleep.

------------------------
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If you enjoyed this story give me a shout at champagne.enema@gmail.com
(it's just a name, I don't douche with Cristal) and tell me what you
liked or what you want to happen next. I think it's going to be at least
a 3 parter. I'm 22 and I live in the UK.

thanks

ss.