Date: Mon, 25 Nov 2013 00:24:34 +0000
From: Marcus DaCosta <marcusdacosta@hotmail.co.uk>
Subject: Dragonden-activity-centre: chapter 3 (gay/incest)

This story is about the relationship between a man and his three sons. If
this is not your thing, or is illegal to read where u are, you know where
to go. Otherwise enjoy. I will appreciate comments, ideas, feedback and
participation as the story progresses, please email me. Details at the
bottom. All usual nifty pre-ambles and legal bits apply.

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

CHARACTERS:

GERAINT: 37 years old
RHYS: 15 years old
OWEN: 13 years old
HUGH: 11 years old
GAVIN: 23 year old assistant manager

RECAP:

Owen climbed back into bed and looked at his phone to check the time. It
was nearly 2am. As he looked a text message came in. To his amazement it
was from Rhys:

'Thanks bro, that was amazing', it read.  Rhys had been awake all the time!
Owen did not know what to think. He curled up and went to sleep.

Rhys lay in bed, covered in cum. He made no attempt to clean himself up,
prefering to drift of to sleep as he was.

Up on the next floor, Geraint practiced over and over in his head the
conversation that he was planning to have with his middle son tomorrow
during their Liverpool excursion. Unaware that beneath him, Rhys and Owen
were both separately hoping to take things to a whole new level.

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

CHAPTER 3:

Geraint was up with the first blackbird as usual, and raring to go. There
was a boyish excitement in his step today due to the prospect of owning his
very own rollercoaster, and he was particularly pleased that Owen had
volunteered to come along with him.  Secretly, Owen was his favourite son,
although he would never admit to such partiality, not even to himself. Of
course he loved, and was devoted to his other boys, but Rhys had always
been much more independent than his younger brothers and therefore spent
less time with his dad, and Hugh reminded Geraint of his missing wife for
some reason. But there was something about Owen, a spark, that made Geraint
feel proud every day.

Geraint showered and dressed in his 'smart' Levi's and buttoned up a pale
blue Ben Sherman shirt. He sprayed himself in far too much Old Spice
aftershave, went to the kitchen and made himself a few slices of toast and
an instant coffee. He switched on the local radio, briefly, before
switching it back off again preferring to sit in silence, sipping his
coffee and trying to 'work out' how he was going to start the conversation
with Owen about 'touching his brother'. After much deliberation, he settled
on the idea of trying to make a joke of it so as not to cause too much
embarrassment.

At half past eight, and with about thirty minutes to go until he hoped to
leave, Geraint tapped on Owen's door firmly to wake him up. There was no
response. Geraint turned the doorknob, opened the door and walked into the
room, he drew the curtains and opened the window slightly to air the
room. Owen stirred, but did not wake up.

Geraint walked over to the bed and sat down by Owen's waist, Owen was laid
on his back and his light duvet was pulled down to his waist just below the
waistband of his boxers shorts. His right arm was raised above his head,
revealing a small but growing patch of underarm hair that Geraint noted was
a development since the last time he had seen his son. Geraint gazed down
at the handsome thirteen year old boy for a while, soaking in the detail of
every freckle and every hair. He leaned over and inhaled the musky scent
from his sons arms, before kissing him lightly on the forehead. Geraint
momentarily questioned his motives in doing this, but eventually concluded
that his close father-son bond with Owen did not require justification, and
that as Owen grew and developed, so would their relationship. He was
certain that he had no sexual feelings for men or boys, and most definitely
not for his own boys, a notion that he repeated to himself as he lifted his
hand from the bed and placed it gently on Owens shoulder, stroking his way
down the boys torso, over his chest, his flat stomach and down below his
belly button. His fingers lingered around the top of the waistband, until
Owen breathed in deeply enough to allow him to slip his fingers under the
waistband and slide down until they made contact with his patch of pubic
hair.  Owen stirred again and Geraint swiftly removed his hand.

"Morning dad," he said, unaware of his fathers movements. "Is it time to
go?"

"Yes son", Geraint answered, "if you still want to come, if your not too
tired".

"I'll be ready in five minutes dad". Owen said, waking up. "Just gonna jump
in the shower and chuck some clothes on". He sat up, and Geraint stood up
to move out of the way. Owen followed, standing up, and stretched, arching
his back and raising both hands above his head. As he did so, his 'morning
wood' popped through the open fly of his loose boxers exposing his four and
a half inch boner to his dad.

"Looks like everyone's up!". Geraint joked, nodding at the exposed
erection.

"Oh, shit, sorry dad". Owen apologised, tucking himself away before dashing
out of the room to go and take a shower.

Once showered and dressed in a pair of black football shorts and a
coincidentally matching black polyester vest top, Owen joined his father in
the front seat of the car, and Geraint began the long journey to Liverpool,
jumping straight in the conversational deep-end. "He's gone back to sleep
again, then?". He joked, nodding in the direction of Owens lap, and
referring to the fact that there was no sign of 'life' any longer.

"Oh yeah, sorry you had to see that dad, but surely you remember waking up
like that every morning when YOU were my age?"

"It's not just at your age, Owen", his dad corrected him. "I still wake up
most mornings like that".

"Shit, really dad?". Owen asked in amazement. "And this is gonna sound
wrong, but, um, what do you do about it now mums gone?" He asked
innocently.

"Same thing as you I imagine, son" Geraint jested. "I assume to had a wank
in the shower this morning, son?"

"Urgh, dad" Owen protested. "NO I DID NOT".

"Oh, sorry son, I assumed you had because you were boned up when you went
in, and, um, NOT, when you came out."

"Well I didn't, dad".

"Well sorry then son" Geraint patted his sons thigh. "You probably should
have done tho son. It's going to be a long day".

Owen thought for a moment about whether he really wanted to be having this
conversation with his father, it was slightly embarrassing, but, his dad
was being surprisingly cool about it, and not making him feel that
awkward. "Its a long day for you too tho dad". He joked.

"Which is why I was trying to bang one out here in the car, before you came
in" Geraint laughed. "I was expecting you to take longer in the shower,
son".

Owen sniggered. "So, I interrupted you, and you didn't finish?" Geraint
shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't worry son, I'll finish when you fall asleep". Geraint played.

"What?" Owen was stunned. "Wank and drive? Isn't that dangerous?"

"No more dangerous than me driving while watching YOU wank off your big
brother last night son". Geraint 'went for it', immediately feeling regret
for coming out with it like that'.

"I WAS NOT". Owen lied, going bright red with embarrassment at being
sprung.

"Of course not son". Geraint said sarcastically.

"I'm not gay dad". Owen said in justification, sort of admitting to the act
he had just been accused of.

"Oh, I know son". Geraint said firmly. "I'm not accusing you of being gay,
I can tell a poofter when I see one, and I'm certain than none of my boys
are poofters, son".  He smiled, "You were just curious, its perfectly
natural, especially with that big fucking boner tenting Rhys' trousers and
staring you in the face, I can hardly blame you for wanting to touch it,
son". Geraint patted his son on the thigh twice more, and then left his
hand there for a few seconds before returning to the steering wheel. Owen's
dick started to swell up at the closeness of his fathers hand, and even
after it was removed, the flow of blood continued until he was back to full
strength and his four-and-a-half inches were lifting up the material of his
silky football shorts.

"Is that how you felt when my boner was staring you in the face, this
morning dad?" Owen asked innocently.  Geraint thought quickly... "Um", he
deliberated before setting on... "You didn't give me time to think anything
son, when I pointed it out, you tucked it away quickly, and ran off".

"Well I didn't know you were gonna be cool about it dad".

"Owen". His dad reassured him, "I could hardly be mad with you for a having
a perfectly normal bodily reaction, could I?"

"Well, that's a relief" Owen said, pointing to his obvious boner.  Geraint
looked down and chuckled.

"Hello again, mate". He said, in a cartoon voice.

"Dad!!!" Owen exasperated.

"Only messing around, but, don't mind me, son, if you want to sort yourself
out, go ahead". Geraint suggested, baffled at his own words.

"Your serious dad?". Owen checked. "Coz I'm not gonna lie, I'm horny as
fuck, sorry for swearing dad, all this talking about wanking." Without
waiting for any further confirmation, Owen lifted his silky black vest top
over his head and threw it behind him onto the back seat. He then reclined
the seat back as far as it could go, removing his seat-belt. Slid his
shorts off, and lay back ready to wank off with an audience of one, for the
first time.

Meanwhile back at the farmhouse, Rhys woke up with morning glory too. He
threw his sheets off his naked body, grasped his tool with his fist, and
began replaying the 'seeing to' that Owen hid given him nine short hours
beforehand. Rhys loved the fact that Owen was so willing to wank him off,
and he hoped to convince him to give him head very soon, and also to
'train' the youngest brother Hugh to offer the same services. As he lay
there sliding his fist up and down his six-inch pole, he heard a faint
knock at the door. 'Right, now Hugh is gonna see what I got' Rhys thought
to himself. He put his earphones in so that he could pretend he hadn't
heard the knocking, although no music was actually playing. He closed his
eyes, opened his legs wide with his knees raised up and pumped ferociously
at his dick, as the door was knocked a few more times. 'Hurry the fuck up,
and come in' he thought to himself impatiently. Moments later he heard the
creek of the door and four footsteps as the visitor approached
stealthily. Being watched was really turning Rhys on as he imagined Hughs
eyes glazed as they stared at his bigger brothers hard dick. There were no
more footsteps, so he hadn't left, but he hadn't spoken yet either. What
was he thinking?  What was he doing?  Where was he looking?  These
questions raced through Rhys' mind as he raised his ass off the bed into a
semi-crab position, making the pleasure of his masturbating so much more
intense. He began fucking his own fist, thrusting his pelvis up into the
air and groaning loudly at the intensity of the bliss he was
experiencing. He was about to cum. Rhys practised in his mind how he was
going to cum all over his chest, then reach behind his pillow for his
cum-rag, which was an old un-needed t-shirt, wipe himself clean, and then
open his eyes and 'act' as though he was in 'total surprise' at seeing Hugh
standing there, He was going to pretend to be embarrassed momentarily, and
then jump off the bed and chase him waving the cum-rag at him.

His plan-making only got that far because he could feel the pre-eruption
tingle in his balls as his body prepared to orgasm. He arched his back
higher and increased the speed at which he pumped his dick. He counted down
in his head 'five, four, three, two, one-and-a-half' and finally 'one'. Cum
projected out of his dick about two and a half feet up into the air before
landing on his shoulder, followed by seven more shots, which splattered
across his chest, and abs.  As planned, he kept his eyes closed and reached
behind for his rag, wiped himself down, and relaxed, slumping on his bed,
preparing to open his eyes.

Before he had a chance to 'countdown' again, a firm voice spoke. "Breakfast
is ready". Rhys opened his eyes with a fright, shuffled back onto his
pillows, and used his wet cum-rag, pointlessly, to cover his rapidly
deflating dick.

Gavin, the deputy manager, was standing no more than a metre away from his
bed, holding a tray which contained a glass of orange juice, a cup of tea,
and a bacon sandwich.

"Fuck!" Rhys exclaimed. "Fuck". He shouted a little louder. "Why did you
stand there watching me?". He finally asked.

"Who wouldn't?" Gavin answered. He had a point. "Say no more kid, its our
secret". And with that he passed Rhys the tray, and left.

Moments later Owen came rushing in to the room. "What's with all the
shouting?"

Rhys explained how Gavin had just stood there for a few minutes watching
him cover himself in boy-juice. As he recounted the story, he uncovered
himself, shoving the rag down the back of his bed. He lay back and raised
his hips as previously done, explaining the process in detail, and using
flamboyant hand gestures to represent the cum flowing out of his dick. As
the story was being told in explicit detail, Hugh stared longingly at the
now flaccid dick that was waving about in front of his face. He imagined it
hard and licked his lips unknowingly.

Rhys closed his dramatic presentation by explaining "and as you can
imagine, it was a bit embarrassing bro". He noticed a small tent in his
brothers pyjama bottoms.

"I wouldn't be embarrassed". Hugh lied. "And next time, you gotta let me
watch, I've never seen someone cum in real life".

Rhys stood up and even though he was naked, he pulled his brother in for a
sideways hug. As he did so, he grabbed hold of his brothers hard 3 inch
dick through his pyjama bottoms, and whispered. "Hugh, THAT is a
muthafucking promise, bro". He let go, sat back down on the side of the
bed, and took a bite out of his bacon sandwich.

Back in the car, Owen's breathing was getting deep and heavy. He also had
his eyes closed as, although enjoying being watched by his father, he did
not want to see his face staring at him. His fingers gripped hard onto his
shaft, the fingers of his other hand were caressing his completely smooth
large-grape-sized balls. After a few minutes, he opened his legs wider so
that he could reach under with his hand and slide his middle finger inside
his hole. As he did this, with his legs so widely spread, his right knee
rubbed against his fathers thigh. Geraint could not take the pressure
anymore, he pulled over into a layby, and looked down at his young son,
winding and grinding his beautiful dick into his clenched fist with one
hand, as he fingered himself with the other. Geraint, undid his seat-belt,
and reclined his own chair. He undid his belt and jeans, and pulled them
down to his knees exposing his seven inch thick meat. He was so caught up
in the moment that he did not even stop to think about the morality or the
repercussions in engaging in such behaviour with his son. Lust-driven, he
grasped his own dick and began jacking himself, as he watched his sons
porn-show.

"Shit" Owen muttered under his breath as he neared ablousion. "Shit" he
whispered. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum". Geraint stopped his own exercise
to watch the three squirts of hot cum land on his sons tummy. He was
transfixed.

Owen opened his eyes and looked down at the juice on his belly. He looked
over at his dad, who was proudly smiling at him. He then looked down at his
dad's rock hardness. It was the first time that he had seen his dad with an
erection, and it looked hot.  Owen looked down at the cum on his stomach
again, and decided to 'go for it'. He 'harvested' it all in his fingers and
reached over to his dads big fat dick and wrapped his young cum-drenched
fingers around it, and began massaging his cum into his dads dick.

"No, son". Geraint pleaded, making no attempts to stop Owen.

"Then get out and walk, dad". Owen mocked, using a sentence that his dad
had often used in the past as various complaints. They both laughed and
Geraint relaxed into his sons tender hands.

"I fucking love you, son". Geraint stated as his son slid his wet
inexperienced hands up and down on his now-throbbing shaft.  "I'm gonna
cum, son" he shouted. "I don't wanna get it on my shirt".

"Take it off dad". Owen suggested.

"There is no time, son, I'm cumming... NOW". Geraint grabbed his son by the
back of the neck, and instinctively forced his head quickly down onto his
throbbing member. Owen just as instinctively opened his mouth and slid the
large cock between his lips just in the nick of time, as stream after
stream of hot cum filled his mouth. Owen used his tongue to prize out the
last few drops and then pulled the dick out, swallowing the mouthful of cum
as he sat back up, free from his fathers accidental over-enthusiasm.

"Sorry about that, son, I didn't know what to do".

"You owe me one dad". Owen raised his eyebrows.

"That, son, is a muthafucking promise". Geraint pulled his jeans up,
started the car and pulled back out onto the highway.

For the rest of the journey there, and the entire journey back, neither of
them spoke of what had happened, but there seemed to be an unspoken
agreement between them that it was mutually consented, and would continue
at a later date.

The meeting was a success. Geraint and Owen got to ride the roller-coaster,
it was not exactly disney-land, or alton towers, but it was a fun enough
ride.  A price was agreed, paper work signed, and delivery was arranged for
a few days time.

Later that evening, back at the farmhouse, Geraint and Owen arrived home
after the park closing time. All the staff, including Gavin had left. Rhys
and Hugh, however were no-where to be seen. Owen and his dad checked every
room in the house, as well as the out-buildings. Geraint phoned Gavin, but
his phone was off, and both boys phones rang from inside their empty
bedrooms.

"They must be here somewhere" Geraint said, not remotely worried. Owen
slouched on the living room couch and flicked through the TV stations as
Geraint went to the kitchen to rustle up a quick meal.

Meanwhile, hiding at the back of the ten-pin bowling lanes, in the bit
where the pins are automatically re-stacked; Rhys and Hugh had stowed away
secretly, intentionally finding a cubby-hole in which Rhys could keep his
promise to his little brother.....

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

If you have enjoyed this chapter of the story, please email me at
marcusdacosta@hotmail.co.uk quoting 'dragonden' and if there is enough
response, (so that I know people are still reading) chapter four will
follow shortly.

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