Date: Fri, 3 Jun 2011 10:39:35 -0700 (PDT)
From: MUSCLEDADDY BEAR <muscle_daddy_bear@yahoo.com>
Subject: Discovering Uncle Tip  Chapter 10:  Mr. Larson, then, Dad

This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
either are the product of the author's imagination or are used
fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
events, or locations is entirely coincidental. The sexuality of all
characters is entirely a figment of the author's imagination. For those of
you that are NOT of legal age, please find other material to read. If you
are offended by male/male material, or it is illegal to view such materials
in your area, you should be leaving at this time.

This story may contain scenes of a graphic nature between a father and his
sons, or under age boys and adult males, which may not be legal in your
area. If you are under 18 or material of this nature is illegal in your
present location, please leave now. By continuing to read on, you are
confirming that it is legal for you to view the material in this story. In
addition, neither you nor any family members are employees of any type of
government, law enforcement, or investigative entity. Moreover, you are
either not performing any type of research in preparation for any forms of
legal action, directly or indirectly, affecting the contents of this
site. In addition, you are agreeing that the author, editor, and this site
will not be held responsible for any consequences of you viewing or
downloading the story.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Discovering Uncle Tip  Chapter 10:  Mr. Larson, then, Dad

	Whenever I saw Coach Stennick after that, he'd just nod politely
and continue on by.  For some reason, I stared at his crotch less and his face
more.  I guess maybe I was searching his eyes for something to tell me he
was okay..."we" were okay.
	Oddly, Uncle Tip had begun steering clear of me as well.
	I heard Dad and Mom talking day when I got home from school.
Mom was saying she was worried about Uncle Tip...that she'd heard he was
drinking heavily and out at the local dive almost every night.
	Dad said he'd go by and see if he could find out if everything was
alright.  Mom suggested he take me with him as Tip and I seemed to have
gotten "close," but Dad said he thought it best if he went alone.  Tip might be
more likely t' open up, since he was already so painfully private, if it was with
just one person.
	"Hon,' prob'ly oughta put a pot'a coffie on...Cal's comin' over
t' get some papers signed.  HEY!!  There's m' number one son!"  Dad added
as I came through the door.
	"Hey Dad, hi Mom."
	"Son, Cal's comin' over.  Maybe your mom can talk him int'a
stayin' for dinner n' you two can get one of yall's chess battles goin.'  I'm
sure he'd be happy as rooster with a new hen if you asked him to...he don't
get out much now that Evelyn's passed on"
	I didn't much like Mr. Larson.  He wasn't really a bad guy or
anything, he just always seemed so distant...so dry...kind of overly proud
and as if he thought he was better than anyone else.  Always in a threepiece
suit, he just didn't fit in.
	He'd moved his family to Texas from California about twenty
years before...his daughter, Rita, marring my dad's youngest brother, Junior.
So he was family, though he stayed quietly on the sidelines even at family
gatherings...just standing and watching, never saying much.
	Everyone had adored his wife when she was alive.  She'd been
from another small town just a few miles away and had instantly become a
much loved member of the family when Rita'd married Junior.  Mr. Larson,
however, always remained a bit of a stranger.  That made it easier to kind
of ignore and steer clear of him, though.
	As far as Dad's comment about "chess battles," Mr. Larson and
I had only played once.  It'd been a fun and challenging game I enjoyed a
great deal.  Afterward, though, he'd coached me on how I'd played and
why he'd beaten me.  It made me feel like he thought I was just a country
boy with no brains and left me with even more indifference to the man.  So,
I made sure I was in my room doing homework when he arrived.
	I heard him and my parents at the dining room table as they went
through the paperwork they were to sign.  Mr. Larson's deep voice staying
the same almost monotone level the whole time.  It was as if he was constantly
controlling his voice and keeping it only a little above a whisper.  I'd heard
someone call it a boardroom voice.  I thought they'd meant "bored"-room
voice since it had a way of lulling you t' sleep.
	When I heard Mom ask if he'd stay for dinner, I crossed my
fingers and hoped he'd say no.  Which he did, to my great relief.
	When she pressed again, though, announcing blackberry cobbler
for desert, he'd agreed instantly saying he wanted to talk to me about helping
him with a project and asking Dad if he'd mentioned it to me.
	Dad apologized, and said he'd completely forgotten.  Then, he
called down the hall for me.
	Crap!  Not only was Mr. Larson staying for dinner...boring!  But,
I was also going to have to come up with an excuse to keep from having to
help him with whatever "project" he was doing.
	I put on my "polite" face, and headed into the dining room.  Sure
enough, there he sat...coat draped over the back of his chair in the rest of a
sharp three-piece suit.
	"Hi, Mr. Larson."  I said as he turned in his chair.
	"Good evening, Joey.  Good t' see you, son."  He stood and
shook my hand firmly.
	"Good t' see you, too." I said, though it was anything but true.
His shaking my hand as if I was an adult seemed like a put on, though it may
have just been a habit from his role as our town's bank president.
	"Have a seat, son, I'd like to ask you something."
	I knew what was coming, "I should set the table for Mom."
	"Oh no, honey, Cal wants to ask you about helping him with
something he's doing at his house.  You go ahead n' sit, I'll get the table."
Mom said cheerfully.
	(Damn it!)
	"Oh, thanks, Mom."  I hid my disappointment.
	"Joey, I was telling your father last week that I want t' put a
patio in the back yard and he said you'd helped him put in the one here last
summer.  I was going t' try to do it myself, but it seems like too much work
for one man.  If you'd be interested, I'll pay you half the quote I received for
having a paving company do it.  That way you'll earn $1200, I'll still get to
do a lot of it myself, and I'll get the finished product at a lower cost."
	$1200???  Whether I liked him or not, I was in and told him so.
	Dinner was spent talking about the latest news, Mr. Larson's
plans for the patio, and how I was doing in football and school.  He was
still cool and distant, but kept up well with the conversation...which surprised
me as he usually said very little.
	After football practice the next day, I headed over to his house.
	I parked in the driveway of the large two-story home he'd shared
with his wife until she passed away from cancer over a year ago.  A new
BMW roadster was already parked there, and I wondered who was visiting.
	Mr. Larson came to the door half dressed.
	"Joey, please come in."
	His shirt was wide open with his tie hanging from his shoulders.
Snowy-white hair densely packed his chest, turning black where his chest
met his stomach.  Thin white boxers and black dress socks were the only
other clothes he had on.
	"I'll be right with you, son."  He turned and strolled out of the
room, calling out after he'd disappeared, "Please help yourself to something
t' drink, I'll be right back."
	I wandered through the elegant living room and dining room to
the kitchen...thinking all the while how he'd looked kind of sexy half dressed.
He still talked in that odd whispery voice, though.
	He padded into the kitchen a short time later with his tennis shoes
in one hand and pulling at the skin tight t-shirt he'd pulled on with the other.
For being in his mid-fifties, he was in GREAT shape!  His whole upper body
was solid.  I'd always thought he was just big and pudgy.  Dressed like this,
though, it was obvious he was all muscle.  Nothing bulging or rounded,
though...just thick, strong, and solid.
	The grey t-shirt was old, stained with oil and paint, and had the
armpit seam ripped out under one arm.  It also rode just above his shorts,
leaving a strip of tanned skin exposed and boasting a path of dark fur.
	The shorts were old white sweats, thin from age, spattered with
the same paint as his t-shirt...just without the oil stains.  The legs were cut
off unevenly and the ragged shorts draped loosely as if a size or two too large.
	As he'd walked in, I couldn't help noticing the fat head of a long
cock swinging free inside the folds of the soft material.  I wondered if he had
boxers on underneath or nothing at all!
	I'd always noticed that he walked rather oddly, kind of pigeon-
toed with his big feet turned a little outward, and seeing his legs bared in
those revealing shorts explained it.  He seemed to roll from side to side with
each step because his thighs were pushed wider than normal from the width
of muscle there.  His calves were also massive, making me wonder if he'd
once been significantly overweight.
	I was fascinated by his big hands and bulging forearms.  He
certainly didn't get that muscle from authorizing loans all day!  The dark hair
that seemed to erupt from his skin in a riot of springy curls drew my eyes
even more.  It stood up at least three quarters of an inch from his skin and
flowed over the back of his wide hands and thick fingers as heavily as on
his arms.
	I noticed, too, that his legs looked like his forearms, covered in
that thicket of black ringlets which spread down over the tops of long strong
feet.
	He was actually quite handsome if you didn't know him.  Black
hair streaked heavily with silver on the sides bordered a broad forehead,
with his pale grey eyes set under dark arched and bushy eyebrows.  His
face was square and chiseled, and tanned darker than you'd expect from
someone who spent all day in a bank.
	As soon as he sat down...thighs straddling the chair...the sweats
pulled across his crotch and revealed the clear outline of one impressive slab
of beefy cock.  Flopping down over his balls, the width of it laid just to the
left of the center seam and the length of it left the head resting on the seat of
the chair.
	My dislike for the man was rapidly weakening!
	"Do you want something t' drink before we get started?"  He
asked, pulling on one shoe and then the other before rising to his feet.
	"No, sir, I'm fine."
	"I suppose we should get started then," He said with a hint of a
smile, moving to open the patio door and walk outside.
	I followed and couldn't hide my shocked reaction when I saw
the work he'd already put in.
	"Wow, Mr. Larson, did you do all this yourself?"
	He put his hands on his hips and looked out over the expansive
back yard, seeming to drift away mentally, "Yes, it was therapy for me when
my wife's health declined.  She loved her fruit trees, but the Texas sun was
too strong for some.  So, I built those beamed awnings along the perimeter
t' shade the more tempermental of them."
	"When I was done, I found the physical work of it all relieved a
lot of my stress."  He continued, pointing to our left, "So, I built that deck
over there at the far end of the house as an outdoor gym for myself.  I still
spend most of my free time in the yard or getting in a workout."
	He pointed at a small circular pool rising out of the ground a
couple of feet and surrounded by a foot and a half of natural rock ledge that
was level with the top.  "I put that in, though I didn't do it myself, when I
found I was doing so much I could barely move day after day."
	"They call it a jacuzzi, or, hot tub.  A lot of people have them
out in California...pretty relaxing with beer or a brandy at the end of the day.
We'll give it a go one of these days when it's time t' shut down.  Your aunt
Rita has it in her head that it and the new car out front are part of some mid-
life crisis."  He looked up distractedly at the sky, " Maybe she's right...."
	So, the BMW out front was his.  Somehow the thought of him
sliding his tall fit frame behind the wheel of the sleek two-seater made him
even more sexy...much more sexy than the four-door sedan he'd always
driven.  His assumption that I didn't know what a hot tub was and that
Texas didn't have them annoyed me a bit, though.
	"Anyway," he came back to the task at hand, "let's get the shovels
and get at it.  I don't want t' keep you too late, son."
	We went to a cabin-looking building on the opposite side from
his "gym."  Rustic beam framed windows let in bright afternoon sun that lit
the neat arrangement of every yard tool imaginable.  There was also a fully
equipped worktable...complete with inset table saw, band saw, drill press,
and even a sunken area housing a wet saw for tile and stone.  There was
even a small refridgerator installed underneath.  WOW!
	We grabbed two shovels and went to work, me stealing glances
at him as his muscles flexed and sweat began coating his skin.
	Cock bouncing inside his shorts and solid square ass straining
the fabric, it was his thick hairy legs I kept being drawn to.  Shiny with per-
spiration, the muscles rippled under the dense black fur coating his skin.  For
some reason, the fact his legs slipped into his white tennis shoes without
socks seemed especially erotic to me.  It kept my thoughts straying to the
idea of seeing him completely naked.
	Used to seeing him all prim and proper, completely covered in
perfectly coordinated dress clothes, I was still taking in the transformation.
The ragged shorts and torn t-shirt seemed so at odds with the stodgy
tailored appearance he normally had.  The shoes thrown on without a pair
of socks made me wonder if he didn't have at least a touch of a wild side to
go with the relaxed easy one I was seeing for the first time.  I smiled thinking...
if he only knew how much more handsome and sexy he was like this.....
	"I know...not how you're used t' seeing me."  He remarked,
leaning on his shovel with both hands crossed over the handle and making
me realize I'd been staring.
	"Oh no, it's just..." I responded too quickly.
	"Oh it's alright.  I've worn those three-piece prison suits for thirty
years now and don't even think about it anymore.  It's just my uniform t' put
on when I'm leaving the house.  Clothes are just clothes t' me.  It was Evelyn
that kept me from looking like a bum, she picked out and matched everything
up for me."
	"Would you like something t' drink now, Joey?"  He asked,
changing the subject.
	"Yes, sir, sounds good." I responded and followed him to the
door.
	"Kick your shoes off, son.  There's an outdoor shower over
there, " he pointed offhandedly as he looked down and toed off one shoe
and the other, " by the jacuzzi tub t' rinse down with when we're all done.
For now, though, this'll keep us from tracking dirt into the house."
	I kicked my shoes off beside his, noticing that mine looked tiny
in comparison, and followed him inside.
	He filled two tall glasses with ice and water that we both drank
down quickly.  Then, he refilled the glasses before we went outside and back
to work...setting them on a round glass-topped patio table before we stepped
into the yard.
	We worked until the sun was setting low and he said it was time
to call it quits.
	The ice had melted in our glasses by then, and he downed his all
at once while I finished half of mine.
	"I'll shower off first and then go get a towel for you."  He said,
walking over a large square of slightly concave tile below an oversized
showerhead.
	I noticed two towels handing from pegs to off to the side, but
didn't question him.
	He kicked off his shoes and shrugged out of his ripped t-shirt,
tossing it over the back of a patio chair as I followed him over to the shower.
	He slid his shorts down, tossing them over his shirt, and reaching
down to separate his sweaty balls and heavy cock from his thighs while I
pulled off my tank top and tossed it over the back of another chair.
	He HADN'T had on underwear!  Maybe there WAS a bit of a
rebel underneath that monotone exterior!
	I pulled my shorts off, leaving only my jock and socks in place
as I dropped the shorts over my tank top.
	When I looked up, his eyes flicked up and down me quickly as
a hint of red creeped over his face underneath his tan.
	He turned away quickly and turned on the water for the shower.
Holding his hand underneath the spray gave me the freedom to take in his
strong back, solid square ass, and thick muscular legs...all covered in that
thick dark hair except  for where it turned silver a little above the waist before
climbing up to his shoulders.
	"The soap is right here, Joey," he said, stepping under the spray
without turning around and pointing at a small shelf inset in the tile that rose
from the floor.
	He soaped his back, ass, and legs heavily for way too long,
making my dick strain my jock out in front of me as his hands roamed over
his solid body and leaving paths through the thick hair fleecing it all.
	When he had to turn to soap up his front, I bit my lower lip
instinctively at the sight of the thick seven inch semi-soft cock swinging
between his hairy legs as he hurriedly lathered up.
	He was fast as lightning and never looked up, soaping up his
cock and balls in a flash after everything else, and immediately turning back
around to rinse off.
	"I'll leave the water on for you," he said, stepping sideways
out of the shower and grabbing his towel.  He flipped it over himself hurriedly,
then hung it back up and grabbed the other.
	"Now, this," he added, still facing away from me and holding the
cloth out in front of him by corners diagonally across from each other...making
it form two overlapping triangles, "is a sarong.  We got a few of them on a
cruise down the mexican coast a few years back.  Very comfortable and
cool...would you like me to bring you one while your clothes go in the washer,
or would you rather I grabbed you a pair of shorts?"
	He tied the white "sarong" thing around his waist, the water still
clinging to his hurriedly toweled skin and turning the fabric sheer as it pasted
itself to the furry block of his ass.
	"That thing's fine, sir." I responded.
	He turned as my eyes fell to his crotch.  The material of the
"sarong" was plastered against his long thick wet cock in the same way it had
over his solid ass.
	I looked up to find his eyes glued to the distended mesh covering
my own arched dick before they lifted to my face.
	"Okay then," he said, heading for the door into the house, "pizza
good for you?  I can start it while..."
	"Oh," he turned and came back, eyes fastened determinedly on
the chairs holding our clothes, "....while I put these in the washer."
	"Sure, pizza sounds good."  I pulled off my socks as he gathered
up our clothes, keeping his eyes fixed on them the whole time.
	I slid my jock off and put it on top of the small pile of our sweaty
clothing draped over one of his bulging hairy forearms.
	"Okay, I'll get everything started," he responded, going into the
house quickly without glancing in my direction.
	I was just finishing my shower when he came out with a towel
and blue and white sarong.  I toweled off with my dick down to about half
mast, and then reached for the sarong.  I held it out and then tied it on the
way he had.
	"Nicely done," he said, turning and going back into the house
with me close behind.  I noticed he'd put the chess set out and arranged
the pieces on the glass-topped patio table that'd held our glasses of water
earlier.  I wondered how he'd done it while I was showering without me
seeing.
	I searched out the origin of the great smell of meat grilling, and
landed on his stove-top.  One side of it was taken up by a stretch of gas
grill.  On top layed a chicken breast, several slices of canadian bacon, a
link of Italian sausage, and a few rings of pineapple.
	"The crust is frozen and the sauce is from a bottle, but everything
else is fresh.  It's an interesting combination of salty and sweet, so just tell
me if you don't end up liking it and we can rustle up something else for you."
	"Why don't you get something to drink, I'm having a glass of
wine, while I cut all this up and get the pizza in the oven.  We can start a
chess game while it's in." He added.
	The knife flew in his hands above the cutting board.  In no time,
the toppings were scattered over sauce and a thick layer of cheese, and the
pizza was slid into the oven.
	He walked over and slid a big hand over my shoulder, eyes
glancing and the beer in my hand but not mentioning it.
	"We have about 20 minutes, let's get that chess game going."
He steered me out the door and onto the patio.
	Amber glass softened the electric lighting from the lanterns hang-
ing above as we sat down across from each other.
	He studied the board as I studied the wide head of his cock
peeking out from underneath the material tied around his waist through the
glass tabletop
	He had the advantage again when the oven timer went off as
I'd been distracted watching the sarong inch up his thighs as he moved in
his chair, revealing more and more of his substantial cock in the process.
	He got up and returned with two plates holding three large
slices of pizza each.  We ate and played till we'd each cleared out plates.
	He sighed and chugged down the last of his wine.
	"I take it the pizza was alright by you?" he asked, turning his
chair to the side and stretching out his long hairy legs.
	"Yes, sir.  I wondered about the pineapple, but once..."
	All of a sudden a grimmace of pain crossed his face and his
right leg jerked back underneath him.
	"What wrong?" I asked, concerned by the look of distress in
his distinctive features.
	"Charlie horse," he managed to get out, "...back of my thigh."
	I jumped up and knelt beside him.
	"No, no.." he started to say as I began quickly massaging the
heavy muscle running down the back of his sturdy leg.
	I could feel it spasming in my hands and dropped my chest on
top of his thigh to get more leverage in manuevering his hamstring.
	"Oh, that's it," he breathed, the tension in his voice decreasing
slightly.
	At that, I leaned up just a bit and turned my head to the other
side when I came face to face with his fat cock arching up from over the
hairy thatch of his impressively heavy ball sack.
	I removed one hand from under his leg while the other continued
administering to easing the tightness in the strained muscle.
	Watching my hand, I curved my fingers and grazed them against
the underside of his swaying meat.
	It jumped and bounced in the air as a gasp escaped his wide
solid chest.
	"Joey, I..."
	I didn't give him a chance to finish and wrapped as much of my
hand as I could around his thick shaft.
	I hadn't noticed before, because the head of his cock was so
broad, but Mr. Larson was uncut...the smooth thick skin covering his shaft
slid easily back and forth across the bulk underneath.
	Almost immediately, his piss slit widened and a thick flow of
precum poured down his shaft and over my hand.
	I forgot about his charlie horse immedately, and released his
leg as I swooped my mouth down over his cock.
	"Oh god!" he groaned, as more precum poured into my mouth
and his beefy body shook with the contact.
	"Joey, you can't...  Oh, god...Oh, god...."  His voice finally lost
some of it's control and strained tension entered it.
	He reached down for my head, trying to pull me of his thick
member as I slobbered over the head and swiped my tonge across it hungrily.
	I strained against his grip to slide my mouth increasing further
down the solid meaty shaft.
	As it hardened completely, it took on an upward curve that gave
it the look over a grossly oversized banana that didn't taper at either end.
Other than the wide ridge that flared out at the base of the head of that
incredible cock, it was the same thickness from tip to base.
	His grip on my head eased from trying to pull me off him as I
slid my hands up his strong thighs, my fingers combing through the dark
dense fur of them.
	I circled one hand around the base of his balls and pulled down-
ward to angle his cock better for my mouth.  He slid silently further down
in his chair and shot another thick gob of precum into my overheated mouth
as his body shuddered once again.
	The only sound in the air around us was the wet hungry smacking
of my mouth on his spit-soaked sausage and the labored breaths coming
rapidly from his chest.
	I rose up and lunged onto his meat, forcing his cock down my
throat to the hilt.
	Mr. Larson jumped to his feet, shoving his chair backward as
the tightness of my throat gripped and massaged the oversized girth of his
juicy slab of mature daddy-meat.  The material that'd been at his waist fell
and pooled at his feet.
	The grip on my head returned, only this time to feed his solid
cock into me in slow powerful thrusts.
	He'd taken over, and I clung to his beefy hairy thighs as he
stuffed my throat over and over with increasing intensity...his knees bending
and body shuddering almost constantly with the severity of his need.
	Before I knew it, his balls pulled up tight in my hand and he began
trying to pull me off that sturdy column of fat steely flesh as it started flexing
and thrashing wildy inside my mouth.
	I held onto his thighs tightly, refusing to be dislodged when the
first powerful spurt of thick hot cum crashed into the back of my throat and
filled my mouth to the brim.
	Not a sound came from him as I swallowed only to be hit by
another blast...the force and copious amount of it causing it to spew from
the sides of my mouth into the thick nest of curling hair spreading out from
his formidable cock.
	My eyes and cheeks bulged as I struggled desperately to gulp
down as much of it as I could.  But, he just kept cumming!!
	Faster than I could swallow, his mule-dick splattered gush after
gush of thick creamy salty daddy-cum into my mouth...into my throat...into
my belly.
	I realized I was groaning and shooting my own load across his
one of his big calves and feet as he continued over-filling me with his never-
ending load.
	I had the thick mess running down my chin, throat, chest,
stomach, and even down onto my own dick and balls by the time he eased
off his pumping my belly full of his huge tasty load.
	Even so, I still wanted more...I wanted every last drop this man
would give me as I knelt in front of him nursing his softening cock as greedily
as a two-dollar whore.  Then, a buzzer sounded from somewhere within the
house.
	"That's the dryer."  Mr. Larson's quiet controlled voice broke
the silence.  "You should clean up and go."
	Oh fuck.  What had I done?
	I was just discovering that I liked Mr. Larson...that he was
actually a really nice man, and an incredibly handsome man.   But, I'd
immediately pushed it too far.  I'd let my own selfish sexual desires push me
into ignoring his protests and doing something to him he obviously hadn't
wanted.
	With the sexual high now gone, I felt horrible.
	"Yes, sir, Mr. Larson."  I grabbed the damp towel I'd used
earlier and wiped as much of his cum off me as possible before heading to
the patio door.
	"Joey," I heard quietly from behind me just as I reached it.
	"Yes, sir, Mr. Larson?"  I asked dejectedly, turning and lowering
my eyes to the floor.
	I glanced up when he didn't continue speaking.  His hands were
on his hips, and his face was turned to the side looking out into the night.
His tall broad bronzed body still glistening in the soft light with a sheen of
damp sweat covering his skin and the thick springy hair of his body.
	"You'll come back tomorrow, won't you, son?"  He asked, his
monotone "banker" voice firmly in place.
	"Yes, sir, Mr. Larson....of course."  I answered, hoping he could
sense the regret in my voice and know that I wouldn't do to him again what
I'd forced on him tonight.
	I turned to walk inside the house again,
	"Good."
	I looked over my shoulder to see him still standing there in the
same position...his head nodding thoughtfully as he looked out into the dark.
	"And, Joey......"
	"Yes, sir, Mr. Larson?"
	He took a deep breath and exhaled, dropping his eyes to the
floor.
	"How long have you know me, son?"
	Uh oh, here it comes I thought.
	"All my life, sir."  I responded quietly, expecting the worst to
follow.
	"All your life..." He repeated my answer, nodding his head as
his eyes stayed on the floor.
	He raised his head and those light grey eyes, so much like my
own though we weren't related by blood, met mine.
	He raised a thick eyebrow and tilted his head slightly forward, a
hint of the power that might lay underneath his soft-spoken exterior evident
in the movement
	"It's time for the "Mr. Larson" title t' go, and for you t' start calling
me Uncle Cal.  Don't you think, son?"
	"Yes sir,"  I said shakily, the tension of not knowing what he was
going to say had taken its toll on my level of stress.  "I'd..."
	He cut me off.
	"Good.  Now, get on home and I'll see you tomorrow."
	"Yes, sir....Uncle Cal."
	I made it through the door this time without being stopped again.
	On the drive home, I kept thinking about his thick cock and
huge load he'd poured into me...wondering about how the wide ridge at the
base of the head of his cock would feel pushing inside my ass and hoping I'd
get the chance to find out.
	It was past ten when I came to the end of the long drive way off
the highway.  The house was already dark except for a dim light shining
behind the drapes in the living room.
	I quietly opened the side door from the garage into the house and
walked in.
	The lamp was on beside the couch with my dad laying there in
just a robe with his Zane Grey novel on the floor and an empty drink glass on
the end table.
	One end of the belt to the bathrobe fell to the floor off the couch
while that same side of the robe layed open across the cushions, baring that
side of his long muscular hairy body along with his fat knobby cock and bull
balls.
	I stood there running my tongue across the roof of my mouth,
still savoring the taste Mr. Larson...Uncle Cal...had generously deposited
there.
	I pulled my tank over my head as I quickly pulled off my shoes,
socks, and shorts...skinning my jock down my legs next as my hard dick
slapped up against my belly.
	I moved over toward Dad's sleeping form, noticing my mom's
prescription bottle for muscle relaxers sitting next to his drink glass.  The
bottle meant he must've had a bad day with his back and the empty drink
glass meant it wasn't likely he would wake any time soon.
	I knelt beside him on the floor and slid my hand up the inside of
a furry thigh crooked out to the side, loving the feeling of the thick velvet line
of hair that burst from the crack of his ass and led the way to the base of
those hefty loaded balls.  His cock stretched and thickened, lifting up off his
hairy thigh just enough for me to easily slip my mouth over the head.
	I massaged the underside with my tongue until it began bouncing
against the inside of my mouth.  Then, I opened my jaw and exhaled warm
breath over the shaft as I slid lower...finally closing my lips to engulf over half
his solid shaft inside my wet mouth.  While I then sucked, milked, and nursed
on his fat meaty cock, I found my mouth was dry and having a hard time
keeping his cock slick for my greedy intentions.
	I slid my mouth off him and stood.  Walking into the kitchen, I
opened the refrigerator and looked inside for something cool that would re-
wet the inside of my mouth.
	I felt the warmth of a body behind me, smelled the thick scent of
whiskey, and looked over my shoulder.  Dad stood there, rumpled, his eyes
heavy with sleep, liquor, and medication.
	He smiled, "Drink's empty."  He swayed and his eyes travelled
down my back as he set his glass on the bar beside us.
	"Everything go alright at Cal's?" He asked, hands sliding over my
shoulders and massaging the muscles there lightly and easily.
	"Yeah, Dad, it was nice....he worked with me instead of just
having me do it all.  I had a good time."  I said, probably talking too much
as the heat rose in me at his touch.  Plus, even without looking down, I could
see the robe had fallen open at his chest and must be open all the way down
his front.
	His eyes slipped closed as his hands tightened momentarily on
my shoulders for balance as he swayed backward for a second.
	The grin spread across his handsome face again as his eyes
opened halfway again, "So, I've had a couple t'night...back's actin' up.  Any
more questions?"  The grin turned into a wide amused smile as his eyes slid
closed again, "About sex, I mean?"
	I felt the head of his cock brush my left asscheek.
	When I didn't answer right away, "I think we were talkin' about
ass last time..."  He pulled me back against him, his cock sliding up along the
vertical line where my asscheeks met.
	I turned my head to look straight in front of me, the cold air from
the fridge breezing across my skin.
	"Yeah, I actually have been wondering about that..."  I threw in,
a little breathless from the feel of his heavy cock nestled in the valley of my
ass crack and the tickle of his chest and stomach hair against the smooth
skin of my back.
	"Mmmmm..." he responded distractedly.  Slurring his words from
time to time, he continued, "...goin' through the front door don't require a lot
of finesse.  The back door, though son, now there's were ya gotta know what
'cher doin.'  Worth it, though...'cause, man, is it tight back there."
	"Finesse?" I asked, feeling his rough hands now sliding from my
shoulders down my arms and then back up.
	"Yeah," he mumbled, his chin coming to rest on my left shoulder,
"gotta get 'er real hot for it....play with her clit.  It's a lil' nub inside 'er pussy...
acts alot like the head of your dick."
	He moistened the fingers and thumb of one hand with his mouth
and then reached down for my dick...rubbing, squeezing, and stroking the
head when he reached it.
	He chuckled quietly and leaned into my ear, his hot breath swirl-
ing inside and sending a shiver up my spine. "Y' wanna get 'er so hot she
starts backin' up on your cock, wantin' t' get it inside."
	I went with it and began moving my ass against him.
	"Oh yeah, son..." he exhaled heavily as his voice got even quieter,
"jus' like that..."
	"Then," he brought the other hand to his mouth and held it there
before moving it down between us and slipping spit-slick fingers into the
cleft of my ass...wetting my tight hole and teasing his fingers across it while
making me squirm against him more hungrily, "you gotta get him really wet."
	I noticed he switched from "her" to "him" as a thick rough finger
slipped inside me.  Something in the change in pronouns getting me even
hotter.
	My ass tightened down on his finger.  "Yeahhh...gotta go easy.
Even an ass that's had a big dick up inside it before, still needs t' be opened
up slowly."
	He brought his hand to his mouth again, and then back down
between us.  I could feel him slicking up his cock..his knuckles sliding up
and down my crack, rippling across my butthole on each stroke.  All the
while, his other hand continued teasing the head of my dick.
	"See, y' don't wanna scare 'im none...y' want him t' want your
big cock as much as you want his tight lil' hole."  His wide tongue swept
inside my ear.  "You're not scared are ya, son?"
	My voice shook from the nerves in my dick and butthole firing
off electricity through my body.  "No, Dad....I uhmmmmmm.....oh man," I
ground back against him, "I'm turned on like crazy...not scared.  I wanna
know what it feels like."
	"You want your..." he shifted behind me, stumbled, and then
regained his balance to nudge the head of that beast of a cock right at my
asshole, "...y' want your ol' man's cock up your tight young hole?"
	The contact of his fat knobby cock at my hole making me crazy
to have him push inside.
	"Oh god, Dad..." I answered breathlessly, raising and lowing my-
self on the balls of my feet to massage my overheated asshole with the three
inch long head of his cock I knew to be about half an inch wider on each
side than the knobby heavily-ridged shaft, "...yeah, I do.  I wanna know
what it feels like...  I mean...so I'll know how t' do it"
	"Let's get outta the fridge, son." He pulled me back, grabbing
and using my dick to keep me against him, turning us toward the bar as he
lost his balance and fell against my back...punching the head of his bastard
of a cock past my tight assring before I was ready.  He clamped a hand
over my mouth, silencing my gasp and whispering in my ear.
	"Sorry, son, sorry...we can't wake up your mom, though," he
mumbled drunkenly.
	"Outside, son," he elicited another gasp from me as the massive
head of his long fat cock snapped back out of my hole and he pushed me
toward the door going out into the garage.  My asshole ached with the
emptiness left there, opening and closing rapidly with the heated desire to
be filled up again by my father's hefty meat.
	He, then, pushed me past both trucks and through the door to
the outside.  Immediately past, he spun me around and against the wall of
the garage.
	"Fuck, son, lesson's over," he rasped out in a voice rough with
need, "you gotta take notes on your own."
	"All I can think about..." he manuevered his cock back against
my hole.
	"...is getting my cock inside you..." one of his hands reached up
and pressed down on the top of my head while the other slipped around me
just below my chest.
	His cock pushed against my hole, pressing my asslips inward as
the big slab of meat tried to force its way in again.
	"...and fucking that teenage football playin' son of mine..." the
head of his cock punched in, raising me up on my toes and pressing my
own cock into the rough wood of the garage wall.
	"...till he...till YOU,"  he pressed his mouth against my ear again,
forcing another three to four inches of rippled steel shaft inside my hole,
"know the feel of your daddy's cock as well as you know your own."
	"Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhh gawwwwwd..." I groaned as my ass
stretched to accomodate the sturdy girth of my father's cock and my assring
slid across the grooved veiny column of rigid gristle.
	"Kiss it, son, kiss your daddy's cock..."
	I didn't know what he meant until he flexed that monster and my
asshole clamped down on his thick slab of meat, drawing a groan from deep
within his chest.
	I clamped down again, "Oh yeah, son, that's it...."  His head
dropped and I felt him slide his teeth down the side of my neck, biting the
skin gently as I gripped and released his cock with my hole over and over.
	"Ohhhh fuck, son....  Learn from this later....later, boy...  For
now, fuck, just take it.  Jus' take your Dad's meat n' ride that big fuckin'
cock!"
	"God, Dad....fuck me..."
	The grip on my head and chest increased, pinning me in place
against the wall as he forced inch after inch of the rest of his horsecock up
inside me.
	After about two thirds of it, I began shifting my weight left and
right, squirming on the invading cock stretching my ass to hell and back.
	I was tensed up on the tips of my toes when his crotch flattened
my buttocks, and I felt his cock pressing into the underside of my stomach!
	"Oh god, son.  I'm all the way in. You have that big fucker all
the way inside that tight lil' ass.  On the first try, boy...you got it all!"
	"Dad, fuck me!  Awww fuck..."  I cried.  I loved the feel of him
shoved all the way up in me, but I wanted him to fuck me.  I wanted to feel
my dad fuck that big cock in and out of my ass till he filled me with his load.
I wanted to feel my father shooting his cum inside me!
	He pulled all the way out, aimed, and then punched back in...
not stopping till his balls smacked against my own as his ten ton cock
stretched and filled my ass!
	I gasped and rose up on my toes again with the impact.  My
own arms jerking to slip over and tightly grip the strong hairy arm he had
encircling my chest.
	"Does m' boy, like his Dad's cock shoved up his tight young
tail?"  Dad demanded from behind me.
	"Yes, yes, yes...oh fuck, Dad, I do!  God, it feels....FUCK!"
	"Yeah, son," he slid his cock back out of me, "yeah..." he
shoved it back in to the hilt again, "...it does!"
	He had me pinned to the wall, unable to move in his forceful
grip as he stuffed his massive meat-bat into me and then yanked it back
out in a steady powerful rhythm.
	The shaft of his cock was so heavily ridged, it made my hole
vibrate torturously on every stroke...building a fire deep in my ass as well
as at the base of my dick and the base of my skull.
	The grooves of that massive cock made his powerful fucking
of my ass brutal and rough...the discomfort making his fucking me that much
more overwhelming.  Not only was I getting fucked up the ass by my father,
I was getting brutally fucked up the ass by this man whose seed made me.
	Suddenly, he pulled me from the wall and threw me forcefully
into the grass.
	Before I had any time to react...he fell on top of me and used one
knee to push one of my thighs up high by my waist, and then sliced his incred-
ible cock back up inside me in one breathstealing stroke.
	I arched back, pressing into his hairy chest.
	"Like that, son?"
	"Ohhhhhhh god, yes!"
	"Want more?"
	"Oh yeahhhhhh!  Yes, yes yes...I..." my response was cut short
when he forced all the air out of my chest shoving his huge meat back up into
me.
	He began slamming into me...
	"Oh yeah!  My own boy's ass!"  His hands reached for my
shoulders, and then moved up to clasp together across the top of my head.
	As he held my head in an iron grip...his pounding of my tail
forced my hips higher and higher, and the lower half of me up onto my knees.
	In this position, his sturdy daddy-cock began punching over my
prostrate on each stroke...sending waves of fire coursing through me!
	"Dad.....   DAAAAD.....!!"  The cum began rising up in my balls!
	"Oh yeah, son, give it to me....ride your daddy's big fuckin' cock!"
	"Fuuuuuuuuuuuck!!!"  I gritted out, trying to stay quiet, as one
of his hands reached down to grasp my dick and catch the first spew of my
teenage load.
	He flattened me back onto the ground and brought his hand up
to my mouth, clamping it down and forcing me to eat my own cum as he
began hammering his cock in and out of my ass like he'd lost all control.
	"Take it, son!  Here it comes!  Take my load, son...suck the cum
outta my cock with that tight boy-ass!!!"
	The taste of my own cum being fed to me, the feel of my father
fucking my ass brutally and spewing his cum inside me, the feel of his cock
flexing and swelling to an impossible girth with his release, and hearing him
tell me to use my ass to suck the cum out of his cock set off another orgasm
as I began thrashing underneath him and hosing down the grass with a second
round of teenage cum!
	He snaked his hand underneath me again and cupped it under
the head of my spewing cock.  When he brought it to my face again, I reacted
by burying my face in it...sucking at his palm, lapping at his fingers, eating my
own cum like a starving puppy as his pounding of my ass eased into a deep
lazy stroking.
	He pulled out of me and struggled to his feet.
	I rolled over and onto my knees looking up at him.
	He stood there swaying in the night air...tall, handsome, hairy,
and muscular...his sloppy cum-drenched mule-dick still arching outward from
above his heavy bull-balls.
	I leaned forward and nuzzled his heavy equipment.  Nothing
but the smell of clean daddy-cum and daddy-sweat met my nose, so I dove
on Dad's long thick cock.
	I sucked on the cum coating his rubbery meat, lapping at the
underside, and milking the shaft as a final stream of cum flowed from his
cock and over my tongue.  The tangy acrid taste of my cum mixed sensually
with the thick salty sweet taste of his....his load tasting a great deal like Mr.
Larson's.
	"I hate t' stop ya, son,"  Dad said, his hands reaching down to
caress my head as my mouth nursed on the fat slab of meat hanging heavily
between his strong thighs.  "But, we both need t' get t' bed.  Lesson's over."
	I kept using my mouth to nurse and milk that fat cock.  Though
he'd said we both needed to get to bed, it was becoming hard in my mouth
again.
	I reached up for his nipples, and twisted them as he had mine
a couple weeks before.
	His cock jerked in my mouth as a groan escaped his chest.
	I twisted and pulled on his nipples even harder as his hands
reached down to grab both sides of my head.
	Soon, he was pistoning his cock in and out of my throat as I
worked his chest till he was fairly slamming his cock into my face.
	Suddenly he went rigid and began to fill my mouth with his
second load of cum for the evening.
	His cock flexed, pumped, and burped cum across my tongue as
I swallowed greedily.
	He didn't cum nearly as much as Uncle Cal had, but still enough
to spill out the corners of my mouth as I struggled to swallow it as fast as he
fed it to me.
	Dad pulled me to my feet and searched my eyes, his own still
bleary and showing the effects of the alcohol and muscle relaxers.  Then, he
dipped his head down and captured my mouth with his own...him tasting the
mix of both our cum on my tongue along with the remnants of Uncle Cal's.
	He pulled back, holding me at arm's length.
	"Son, you're about hotter'n any woman or man I've ever been
with.....damn!"
	He pushed me in front of him and toward the door as he
swatted me on my freshly fucked ass,
	"But we both still need t' get t' sleep!"
	I walked into the house, grabbed my clothes, and headed to my
room.  As I climbed into bed, I thought about the evening.
	Sucking Mr. Larson's...Uncle Cal's...cock and being almost
drowned in his cum had left me aching to have him fuck me.  Then, I'd come
home to find Dad sleeping on the couch with his fat cock exposed and ended
up with him pounding and pummeling his load into my tail before letting me
suck a second load out of his huge cock and balls.
	All in all it'd been one helluva night.  I went to sleep wondering
about what tomorrow at "Uncle Cal's" might bring!