Date: Fri, 10 Aug 2007 17:14:12 -0700 (PDT)
From: James Spaulding <fathercandy@yahoo.com>
Subject: Getting Dad Drunk, Part 7

The vacation continued as it had begun.  The Jenkins and I had our share of
fun.  I accosted Jimmy one afternoon.  And I gave a blowjob to a father of
three in the hotel bathroom.  My kind of fun.

I returned from vacation.  Ted and I continued our trysts.  And winter
turned to spring turned to summer...

My mom works for a law firm.  She's been partner for the past five years.
Every June, the firm throws a family extravaganza.  Though I no longer
enjoy the whole thing - I outgrew the joys of the jumping balloon and the
dunk tank - I still show my face.  I know how hard Mom has to work.  I know
that she needs to show the firm her happy family.

It's always been interesting, watching the lawyers act like normal people -
people who aren't worried about billing.  The men do their best to show the
world their virility outside of the office: shorts and t-shirts hopefully
proving they do more than write briefs, spending some time at the gym.  The
women do their best to show their softer side.  Hence, the happy family.
Sexism still holds sway at the company picnic.

Mom's boss has become a family friend over the year.  He is a history buff.
My father is a history teacher.  Once Mr. Phillips realized he had an
expert before him, he has never failed to find the time to talk history
with my dad.  As usual, Dad and Mr. Phillips were deep in conversation -
something about Henry VIII and his bastard children.  I sat down next to
Mr. Phillips, doing my best to look interested.

"Jim, is your boy here old enough to have a drink once in a while?"

Dad looked at me.  Smiled.  "He's been known to down a few."

"Can I share?"

Dad looked at me.  "Alex, Peter here has a secret stash, a flask of some
very nice whiskey.  He's been sharing with me all afternoon.  You promise
you won't tell your mom?"

I nodded.  "Sounds good."

Mr. Phillips pulled out a bottle from under his chair, took my can of Coke,
and filled it with whiskey.  A lot of whiskey -- there wasn't much Coke
left in the can.  The first swallow was a bit much.  But it was good stuff.
Smooth.  And soon I was happily finishing my drink.

Mr. Phillips happily got me another.

I drank.  Dad and Mr. Phillips moved on to the Queen Elizabeth's defeat of
the Spanish Armada.  Yawn.  I was just about ready to leave, find something
more exciting, when Dad got up.

"Peter, I gotta take a leak.  You take care of Alex.  Alright?"

"Sure thing."

Dad left.

Mr. Phillips smiled.  Offered me another drink.  Who was I to turn him
down?

"Thanks.  I'm feeling a little buzzed.  This is good stuff."

"You damn right.  It's good stuff.  You want to know how much it cost?"

I could give a fuck.

"Almost a hundred bucks a bottle.  That's the cheap stuff.  I got some
stuff worth five hundred bucks a bottle at home."

It was official.  I was totally fucking bored.

"Looks like your dad's got himself caught up in another conversation."

Sure enough.  Dad had left me.  Stuck.

I felt a hand on my knee.  "Now, how can an old man like me keep a young
buck like you entertained?"  The hand squeezed my knee.

What the fuck?

I looked at Mr. Phillips.  Not bad looking.  Young 60's.  His madras shorts
showed nice legs.  His polo shirt revealed a tuft of gray hair.  He had a
full head of gray hair.  From the look of things, pretty damn virile.

"How about we leave this place for a while.  My wife can take care of
hostess duties.  You come back to my place.  I'll give you a taste of the
expensive stuff."

Yep.  Old Mr. Phillips.  Mom's boss had just made a pass.

I hesitated.

"Come on, Alex.  We just live across the street from the park, no more than
three blocks away."

"Who am I to say no to my mom's boss?"

Mr. Phillips laughed.  "Damn, right."

We left the party as surreptitiously as possible.  Sure, everyone watched
the boss, but the boss could come and go as he pleased.  I caught my dad's
eye.  He raised a beer in salute.  Laughing.  I'm sure he found it funny
that he had left me with the old man.  I'm sure he imagined I was off to
see some stamp collection or something.  Boy, was he wrong.

We made our way to Mr. Phillips apartment.  I followed him in.  Fancy.  The
door shut behind me.

"You want that drink, Alex?"

"Sure."

"Follow me."

We entered Mr. Phillips' den.  Dark leather furniture.  Lots of books.

He went to his bar.  Pulled out a crystal bottle.  Poured two glasses.
"Sit down.  Make yourself comfortable.  Were not going to rush this. This
is the real deal."

He handed me a glass.  We toasted.  And I swallowed the real deal.  Nice.
It was smooth.  It was strong.  And, on top of the rest of the whiskey
Mr. Phillips had shared with me all afternoon, I was pretty fucking buzzed.

"Nice place."

"You like it?"

I walked to the window.  "Awesome view."

"How about a tour?"

I followed him.  He showed me what years of hard work provided.  Everything
was rich.  Beautiful.  Perfect.

"So how old are you, Alex?"

I hesitated, afraid he had though I was 21.  Hence all the alcohol.

"Come on.  I know your not old enough to drink legally."

"I'm seventeen."

"Damn, your not even old enough to have sex."

I raised my glass.  "There's where you are wrong, Mr. Phillips."

"I might have figured.  The younger generation."

The tour continued.  "Here's the gym.  Everything you might want to keep
looking good."

I followed him.  Too closely.  He turned to talk to me, not knowing I was
right behind him.  We bumped into each other, both of us spilling our
expensive whiskey.

"Fuck.  Sorry, Mr. Phillips."

"For what?  Swearing?  Or spilling whiskey all over me?"

"I guess both."

He laughed.  "You're forgiven.  Let's just see if I have something that
will fit you.  We can't go back to the picnic smelling like whiskey."

I watched as Mr. Phillips took off his shirt.  Impressed with the hair.
Impressed with the definition.  Sure he was an older guy.  But he was an
older guy who took care of himself.  He definitely used his gym.

"Come on, Alex.  Let's get you something clean."

I took my shirt off.  He admired.  "You're a swimmer, right, Alex?"

"Yep.  I've been on the team for the last four years."

"Well, keep swimming boy.  You look great."  His hands reached for my
chest.  He grabbed.  Squeezed.  "Very nice."

My hands reached for his chest.  I felt his hair.  I felt his nipples.
"You too, Sir."

Mr. Phillips looked me in the eye.  "I was right, wasn't I? "

I nodded.

Mr. Phillips hands moved to my crotch.  He easily found what he was looking
for.  I was rock hard.

"Let's get you out of the rest of these clothes.  And then let's get this
taken care of."  He squeezed my cock.  His hands moved to the waste band of
my shorts.  He pulled them down.  His hands moved to my boxers.  He pulled
them down.  I stood before him rock hard, totally naked.  He admired.

"Fuck.  Seventeen.  You're not going to tell anyone are you, Alex?"

"No, Sir."

"Then let me get to work."  Mom's boss got on his knees before me.  His
mouth was soon around my cock.  He blew like a pro.  Taking all of my
inches deep down his throat.  No gagging.  Just sweet sucking.  His hands
played with my balls, tugging on my ball sack.

He removed my cock from his mouth.  "You know what I really want, Alex?"
He wiped spit from his chin.

"No, Sir."

"I want you to take your boy meat and fuck me hard."

Besides the fact that his dialogue was straight out of an old porn film, I
had no problems sliding my boner deep inside his hole.  We moved back to
his den.  He had lube.  Never asked for a condom.  I got his ass ready.
Got my cock ready.  And fucked the man.

He was bent over, his hands on top of his desk.  I happily plowed his hairy
hole.  Happily watched my thick cock slide in and out.  And when the time
came, I happily filled him with my cum.

I pulled out.  He turned around.  It was my first chance to really admire
his body.  And play with his cock.  I knelt and my lips soon surrounded his
shaft.  His cock was long.  Not particularly thick.  But I loved doing my
damnedest to deep throat his fucker.  I gagged.  But soon I was able to
swallow all of him.

He leaned back, and enjoyed the blow job.  My hands went to his asshole.
My finger entered.  I felt the still warm slick of my sperm.

"Fuck, Boy."  He reached for me and pulled me up.  "I think this boy ass
needs to be fucked by a real man."  His hands reached for my nipples.  He
pulled.  It hurt.  And it felt good.

"Yes, Sir."

He sat me on his desk, pushed me down, and his tongue was soon fucking my
hole.  I let him get me ready.  His fingers soon joined his tongue,
stretching my hole, preparing the way for his rock hard cock.

He stood.  "You ready, Baby?"

I grunted a yes.

He reached for the lube and I watched as he covered his raw cock with
lubricant.  He had a nice cock.  Something like seven inches long.  Hairy
crotch.  Low hanging balls.  Just the sort of hot older man I always
fantasized about.  I wanted him inside me.  I wanted him to fuck me.

He slid his cock inside me.  Nothing gentle about his motions.  Just good,
hard, raw fucking.  He slapped my ass.  I moaned with pleasure.

He spat on my face.  "You like it rough, Boy?"

"Yes, Sir."  I opened my mouth, eager to swallow more of his spit.  He
didn't disappoint me.  His hands worked my tits.  I was in bliss.  Used and
abused by my mom's boss.

"You know what I want, Little Boy?"

"No, Sir."

"I want to see you eat my fucking cum"

He pulled his cock out of my hole.  I got down on my knees and in no time
he was ready to blow.

"Fuck, Alex.  I am ready to shoot."

Of course, I kept sucking.  And in no time, Mom's boss filled my mouth with
his seed.  I swallowed.  Removed my mouth from his cock.  And smiled.

Mr. Phillips smiled.  Pulled me to my feet.  "I could do with some of that
on a regular basis, young man."

His mouth moved to mine, and we kissed.  "I like that."

"So do I."  My hands massaged his back, his chest, his shoulders.  Nice.

"We better get back to the party, young man."

Perhaps we were both a little worried that our absence had been noted.  But
nothing to fear.  Everyone was as engaged as they had been when we left.
No one even noticed we were wearing different shirts.

I walked past Dad on my way to the restrooms.  He was talking to one of
Mom's partners.

"Where you headed, Buddy?"

I pointed to the bathroom.

He got up.  "As a matter of fact, your old man could take a leak."

We walked to the park's public restrooms.  Dad followed me in and followed
me to the urinals.  No dividers.  I wasted no time realizing that I would
be standing next to Dad as he took a leak.  I did my best to watch as he
unzipped his shorts.  I watched as he reached in for his cock.  Pulling it
out.  Of course I was doing my best to hide my glances.  I undid my shorts
and stood before the urinal, trying to pee.

I watched as Dad took a piss.  I watched as he pulled on his cock.  I
admired the inches I saw.  His thickness.  And I could only imagine what it
would look like hard.  He removed his hand from his cock.  Nothing blocked
my view.  I could see tufts of his crotch hair.  I saw his ball sack
resting below his dick.  I lost myself in the view of my father's cock.  I
was careless.

"What's the matter, Alex?  Pee shy?"

My revelry was cut short.  Dad had seen my checking out his cock.  He could
see that my own was working its way to full on erection.

Dad looked at my cock.  Laughed.  "Looks like your old man needs to leave
you to pee in peace."

I watched as he stuffed his cock back into his shorts.  He glanced at my
cock one more time.  Winked.  "Good luck with that, Alex."

I watched as he walked out of the restroom.  Confused.  Horny.  And almost
convinced that my cock wasn't the only cock that had grown thicker as I
stood before the urinal with my father...

...

A few nights later I got a phone call a little after 11:00.  I answered

"Hey, Alex.  What's goin' on my friend?"

It was Ted.

"Hey.  What are you doing?"

"You feel like a surprise?"

"Always."

Ted laughed.  I could tell he had been drinking.