Date: Sun, 29 Sep 2002 20:39:34 -0400
From: Fiddlecub
Subject: Dad's Winter Visit: Part 1

If sexually oriented reading material offends you or is
illegal where you live, you must not read this story.
Otherwise, enjoy!

Dad's Winter Visit: Part One

I remember the first time I masturbated: December 27, 1985.
I had heard the phrase "jacking off" for a few months from
my friends and kids at school. While it was simple to figure
out that it was a term for playing with yourself, I had no
idea how to do it correctly so that I would ejaculate.
Unlike some boys, I didn't have a friend close enough to
ask. After a few trips to the local library and some
perusing of the sex books, I discovered that the technical
term for jacking off was masturbation, and that it was done
by "milking the penis to achieve orgasm."
Armed with this information, and a hard-on aching to be
released from my faded jeans, I walked the mile home from
the library. How fucking unfortunate, then, to discover that
Mom and Dad were both home that afternoon, taking down
Christmas decorations and waiting for me so Mom could start
dinner. I knew I would have to wait, but my mind was reeling
with images of me milking my dick. I had never had a wet
dream and had no idea what cumming would even feel like, so
I impatiently helped my parents undress the Christmas tree.
"Kevin, are you ok? You look flushed." My mom, perpetually
concerned, felt my forehead with her hand. "I don't think
you have a fever."
"I was just hot from walking in my winter coat Mom..." Yeah,
right. What a horrible excuse, but hey, I was 13. I didn't
want to say I was sick, because while I could get an excuse
to go to bed early and play with my new toy, she would be
checking up on me all night.
Dad was silent, but he looked first at me, then at the door,
where I had hung the light parka I had worn to the library.
I was notorious for wearing thin jackets in the cold of
winter. Shit. Dad knew I was lying. Still, Mom didn't catch
on, and we took down the rest of the ornaments.
The end of dinner couldn't come soon enough. When it was
over, I told Mom and Dad that I was going to take a bath.
This wasn't unusual, as we didn't have a shower, so I
usually bathed at night instead of the morning, when mom was
using the bathroom.
And so I filled the bathtub, got in, and pumped my pecker! I
had a raging hard-on by the time I got into the tub, so I
eased myself into the hot water and wrapped my hand around
my thickened cock. As inexperienced as I was, I began to
whip my hand up and down quickly, not really savoring the
experience, so it took me a while to come. When my arm got
sore, I would switch arms and continue to jerk. When I
finally passed the point of no return, I grunted, shivered,
and shot 3 squirts of white-hot spunk out of my dickhead. It
felt heavenly, and I knew I was addicted.
Thus began my lifelong addiction to whacking off. I learned
to relish the task, spending school nights leisurely
massaging my throbbing cock and erupting huge spurts of jism
onto my belly and chest. I would do it almost anytime,
anywhere. If I would get home before dad did and was lucky
enough to discover that mom had gone to the store, I would
whip out my dick and furiously jack off a creamy load. As I
became bolder, I sought new and different places to
masturbate: public restrooms, in the woods behind the house,
even one time in the car while my mom had parked to go
shopping. I
just squeezed myself through my jeans until I released my
cream into my pants. Having my cum drying on my skin or
clothes was my favorite way to end a jerk-off session, and I
didn't even have a cum rag in my bedroom.

Mom and Dad weren't as naive as I imagined, though, and I
couldn't hide every piece of masturbatory evidence. My
bedroom, for some odd reason, did not have a heating vent in
it, so while the rest of the house was cozy during the
wintertime, I would have to keep a door slightly open if I
didn't want to freeze. After I learned to jerk off, I would
generally keep it closed. Not only did this mean I would
wake up in the morning shivering from the cold, but my
bedroom started to get that tell-tale smell of aging sperm,
which would waft out into the living room every time I
opened the door for my morning piss. The borrowed jars of
petroleum jelly I hid under my bed would eventually find
their way back to the medicine cabinet. And certainly, my
stained sheets and bedspreads couldn't go unnoticed, but my
parents respected my privacy enough to not mention anything.

But like every adolescent, the embarrassing subject was
approached eventually, and in a most awkward manner. Dad
managed a restaurant, so he had to go to bed very early at
night so he could be to work at 5AM. By the time I was 16,
my parents would go to bed at 9PM, but I would usually stay
up till 10 or so, watching TV or listening to music. I had
also discovered that I could watch the scrambled Playboy
channel, so I would wait till Mom and Dad went to bed and
turn the TV volume down very low. I lay on my side on the
floor in front of the screen, unzipped my pants, and pulled
out my 7-incher, slowly rubbing my penis and hoping to see
an unscrambled glimpse of some guy's cock.

Yeah, I had discovered that I liked dick, even though I
never really thought of that being odd. I think I assumed
that eventually I would get into girls, and pictures of tits
were easy to find in local magazine stores. In rural Warren,
Pennsylvania, though, I couldn't find dick magazines, so I
had to be content with the illustrations in the sex-related
books at the library. Eventually, these books found their
way off the shelves, apparently due to some angry parent's
complaint, although I secretly wondered if it was because I
had taken to jacking off in the restroom after getting hard
while reading them.

One night lying in front of the TV, I was nearing orgasm,
whipping my cock with abandon, when I heard my mother
walking from the other room, calling "Kevin, are you still
up?"

I hurriedly began to stuff my dick back into my pants, but
fate was against me. I couldn't stuff, zip, and turn the
channel quick enough, and Mom walked in. She first looked at
the TV, its nonsense scramble lighting the room, and then at
me. I had managed to pack my cock back into my underwear,
but my jeans were still unzipped, and my white briefs had an
obvious bulge.

"I think it's time to go to bed," she said softly, and left
the room. Mortified, I zipped up my pants and turned off the
TV. That January night, I kept my door open, wondering if I
would hear my mom whispering to my dad, but the bedrooms
were on opposite sides of the house, and all I heard was the
creaking of the furnace and the sound of my pulse in my
temples. I didn't jerk off.

The following morning when I got up, Dad was already gone
and Mom had breakfast on the table.

"Good morning," she sang, as though she had seen nothing the
previous night. I happily complied with the delusion and
poked my
fork at some pancakes. Still nervous, I didn't eat much, and
decided to walk to school in the snow instead of taking the
bus, hoping to let off some uneasiness.

When I got home that afternoon, Mom wasn't there. I walked
into the living room to find dad on the couch, reading the
TV manual and pressing buttons on the remote. He looked at
me. I saw no anger, nor did I see amusement. He just simply
said, "I am removing access to some channels."

I nodded. I didn't know what to say so I just stood there,
and Dad didn't move either.

"Kevin, I know what you do when you think no one is around.
Masturbation is perfectly normal, but I can't have you doing
it in the living room with your mom around. Just clean up
after yourself and don't worry about it. I'm sure you think
a lot about girls. Sharon."

Sharon was a redhead who lived a few houses up. We had gone
to Homecoming together, but I didn't see her often, since
she was a freshman. I had never considered having sex with
Sharon. I nodded again.

"Is there anything you want to ask or talk about? You should
know about condoms and such, I think."

I wanted to disappear. I just said, "No thanks Dad," and
scurried into my room.

Mom came home about half an hour later, but they didn't say
anything or knock on the door. I think they knew I was
embarrassed. I didn't even come out to eat.

I was also confused, because after "the talk," I had been
thinking of Dad. He was attractive, I guess, but even more
so, he was very masculine. He had just turned 40, his dark-
brown hair had flecks of gray, and he smelled of Old Spice.
Like me, he had a big body, not fat and not muscular, just
solid. I wondered what his cock looked like. How big were
his balls? How far did he ejaculate? Did he have sex before
mom? Did he masturbate?

I shook the thoughts out of my head, but my hard-on stayed.
I wasn't gonna jerk off... it had gotten me in trouble, and
anyway, it was still early. So I read and listened to music.
Fuck schoolwork.

Eventually mom stuck her head in.

"Are you all right?" she asked. I smiled and nodded. "I love
you honey, sleep tight and don't let the bed bugs bite."

I smiled at her attempt to get things back to normal.
"Thanks, mom, I love you too."

She left the door open, which was fine by me, since I had
been freezing my ass off the last few nights. In a few
minutes, the lights went out and there was silence. Only the
living room nightlight shone in.

Not having jerked off the night before, I was rather horny.
I took off everything but my underwear and crawled into bed.
My mind was reeling with the events of the day, but my cock
demanded attention. I lay my right hand on my bulge and
worked my cock. My left hand tickled my balls through my
underwear. I loved playing with myself through clothes, so I
kept it up for a while before
pulling off my briefs. I pushed down all the covers and
grabbed my rigid dick, stroking it slowly while I moved the
other hand beneath my balls to my asshole and wiggled my
finger against it.

My mind filled with images of dicks... dicks dripping with
cum, dicks poking out of flies, dicks thrusting into tight
asses, dicks fucking wet mouths. The more dicks in my mind,
the faster I flogged my own and the harder my finger pressed
at my asshole. Shit, yeah! I could feel the cream boiling
and my balls rising.

Suddenly, I felt different. I stopped jacking and pulled my
finger out of my ass. I turned my head to the doorway and
saw Dad standing there.

I pulled up the covers and cleared my throat. I figured he
would walk away but he stood there, just looking into my
eyes. I didn't know what to say so I stayed silent.

After an eternity, Dad walked in and shut the door behind
him, closing out the glow of the nightlight. I was mortified
that he caught me but I knew Dad would never hurt me.
"I am sorry to scare you like that," Dad whispered.

"It's ok," I said. He didn't move, and I started to sit up.

"No, lay down," he said. I scooted back down and waited.

My eyes were adjusting, and I could see Dad's silhouette
against the wall. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it on
the floor.

"Dad?"

"Shhhhh."

He pulled down his sweats. I couldn't see anything until he
turned to kick the sweats off. When he turned, I saw a huge,
erect cock in profile, bobbing with his movement. Dad turned
toward me and walked to the edge of the bed.

"I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do, you
know."

I lay motionless. It felt like a trick, but if this were a
punishment, why would his dick be so hard? Why would MY dick
be so hard?

When I didn't say anything, he moved a little closer. I felt
the heat of his cock right above my forehead, and I could
smell Old Spice. My dick throbbed.

"I love you dad," I whispered. I moved my head further back
and stuck out my tongue.

As soon as my tongue touched his tool, it jumped up and
flopped back down again. I began to lick the shaft like an
ice cream cone, not exactly sure what to do, but sure as
hell ready to try. I moved my tongue back and forth,
marveling at the taste, texture, and the amazing heat that
came from Dad's penis. I reached my hand up and felt his
solid belly. I rubbed up and down his fur, his chest and
across his nipples. Dad groaned when I grazed them, so I
lingered on his left nipple. He moaned a little more, and I
took it between my thumb and forefinger and gently tweaked.

Dad's cock jumped again, so I twisted my head, gathered up
my courage, and took the head into my mouth. His dickhead
pulsed and I swirled my tongue around. "Fuck, yeah," he
said, surprising me, since he almost never swore. I took my
other hand and cupped his
balls. Holy shit, but they were fucking huge... I rolled
them around while I suckled his dickhead.

Suddenly, he pushed his hips forward, sinking three more
inches of man meat into my mouth. The thickness caught me
off guard, and I gagged a bit, but I continued to suck at
his cock as he started pumping his hips back and forth. My
own dick was as hard as a rock at this point and tenting the
bedspread. Dad apparently saw this as he thrust back and
forth, and pulled away the bed covers. "Nice fucking dick,
son," he said. "Can I play with it?"

I mumbled, and he took this as a yes. He wrapped his huge
hand around my dick and squeezed. I grunted and pushed my
lips further down his cock. Dad's hand was heaven on my
penis, and he moved it leisurely up and down. I gobbled
harder at his dick, taking more inches into my throat and
giving it more suction.

"Let's finish ourselves off," he grunted, and pulled his
cock out of my mouth. He removed his hand from my dick and
grabbed his own. My throbber was on fire and I took it into
my hand and whacked away. I knew I would come any minute.

Dad beat me to the punch. "Fuuuuuuck yeah!" he grunted, and
leaned forward, bringing his nut sack to my lips. I lapped
at his balls and he erupted. I couldn't see the shot, but it
must have gone straight up into the air and back down, as
one splat after another landed on my forehead, my cheeks, my
nose, my hair. I could smell that scent that filled my room
after jerking off, but this was different. It was my dad's
sweet fuckcream. I couldn't hold back and burst.

"Fucking shit!" I cried out, spurts of jism flying from my
pecker and onto my chest, belly and Dad's arm. One shot
after another spurted out. In a quick move, Dad reached
under my balls and pressed his slime-covered finger into my
ass. "Fuuuck!" I moaned again, my cock still spurting goo.

After my cock finished dripping cum, Dad pulled his
fingertip from my hole. His balls were still above my lips,
and he pulled back. I could smell that wonderful spermy
scent again, and I stuck out my tongue and licked his shaft.
I could taste the drops of spunk. After a moment, he turned
away.

I was exhausted and out of breath, but Dad calmly pulled on
his tshirt and sweats. He walked towards the door and
touched the doorknob. He seemed to hesitate, and turned
around. He walked back to the bed and kneeled.

"I love you, son," he said, and pressed his lips to mine.
His tongue entered my mouth and searched. My face was
covered in his cum, but he didn't seem to mind, and it
dripped onto my lips. We passed it back and forth with our
tongues before Dad pulled away.

He walked back to the door and opened it. The nightlight
shone into the room and I looked at his ass, then his head
as he turned it to me. He smiled and walked out, leaving the
door open.

I took my finger and scraped Dad's cooling semen from my
face. I pushed it into my mouth and sucked, relishing the
salty taste. It was almost like mine, yet it was thicker and
more pungent.

"I love you too, Dad," I whispered. I rolled over and fell
asleep, Dad's cum still drying on my face.