Date: Wed, 03 Jun 1998 10:53:23 -0400
From: "J.W. Martins-Bazinet" <3stix@concentric.net>
Subject: Getting to Know Dad

Mom and Dad had separated when I was only 10 months old. Dad moved to 
Italy, Mom and I stayed in Vermont. He never came back to the U.S., he 
was a sculptor and made a good living over there. Don't get me wrong, he 
didn't ignore me, we just never saw each other. He paid child support and 
he never missed a birthday or Christmas, I always got a super gift and a 
transatlantic call. Compared to most absentee dads around he was pretty 
good. Mom always spoke well about him, said he was a genius, a real kind 
and gentle man, even if he saw the world differently from everyone else. 
That's why they'd gotten divorced in the first place. Mom was very 
practical, Dad was a dreamer. They really loved each other, they just 
couldn't live together. So I loved my Dad even if I didn't know him.

That explains why I was more than just a little nervous as my plane 
circled Leonardo da Vinci Airport. Mom had died unexpectedly a month 
earlier. After the funeral Aunt Liz informed me that I would be living 
with my father. I'd originally thought that I would live with Liz and 
her family, but Dad wanted me with him and what he said counted. 
Secretly I was glad I wasn't going to be the orphan cousin living in 
somebody else's house, but at the same time I had no idea what to expect 
from life with a stranger, a strange country and foreign language. I was 
only 16 years old; actually I was scared shitless.

He was waiting for me as I cleared customs and immigration. He looked 
like me, only a little older. Actually compared to most of my friends' 
dads he looked real young and real cool. He was just over 36, but he 
looked more like a college senior. At 5'10" his body was solid with just 
enough muscles. He had long thick shiney black hair which framed a 
ruggedly masculine face. I immediately decided to let my hair grow as 
long as his. But it was his eyes that got you, the kind that pierce 
right through to the soul when they set their gaze on you. Mine were 
pale blue, his were the color of fine Navajo turquois.

He enfolded me in his powerful arms and I knew everything was going to 
be cool. "Oh my God I can hardly believe you're here. I'm so sorry about 
your Mom, but I'm so glad to have you with me. Let me look at you." He 
stepped back a couple of steps and gave me a slow once over. "You're so 
handsome and grown up."

I felt the flush rise in my face and I'm sure I was blood red, but at 
the same time I felt the genuine love he had for me. He was a cool guy 
and I liked him. He wasn't really what you'd picture as a father-type, 
but he was the only one I had and I was happy he was.

"Are you ready to start your new life?"

"I guess so."

The drive to his villa up in the Italian countryside took about two 
hours. Dad did most of the talking, filling me in on what to expect. He 
did very well as a sculptor, working mostly on private commissions from 
all over Europe.  Right now he was working on a series of four marble 
statues of mythological charecters for the garden of some rich Greek's 
island villa. The whole project was taking just over a year, he was half 
finished now, but the price tag was a whopping quarter of a million. I 
was impressed.

He also told me I'd have my own bedroom, bathroom and playroom, but best 
of all we had servants, a cook, a maid and a gardener. Cool. 

Not so cool, I would have to go to some private school run by Catholic 
monks and attended by foreign, mostly English students. Most classes 
would be in English, but I'd have to take intensive courses in Italian 
as well.

"Also I think I should give you a few groundrules so you know where I'm 
coming from." Here it came, the bad news, but it didn't turn out too bad 
afterall. "First, your primary obligation is to do your studies to the 
best of your ability and on time. Second, I expect you to be kind and 
respectful to those with whom you deal, from the servants to the Prior 
of your school. Third, I urge you to exercise good judgement as you go 
through life, do nothing to excess and nothing to cause harm to another. 
If you do all this I promise you will be a happy and successful man.

"For my part, as your father, I will supply you with all your needs. I 
will try to respect you and your wishes at all times and allow you to 
develop and become whoever you wish to be. I may not agree with every 
decision you make or every action you take, but I will always love you 
for who you are and will become."

I was blown away. Mom had always had a thousand different rules. I knew 
she always had my best interests at heart, but she was also trying to 
shape me in a way that she wanted without ever listening to what I 
wanted. I really liked Dad's approach to parenting. Things were looking 
up and for the first time since Mom had been rushed to the hospital I 
felt things would be OK.

I unpacked and settled into the suite of rooms which would be mine, 
they were at the opposite end of the same hall where my Dad's rooms 
were. At Dad's suggestion I decided to take a nap to help adjust to the 
time change. "I'll wake you up in a couple of hours and we'll have a 
late lunch together," he said as he left the room closing the door as he 
went.

I stripped to my briefs and climbed into the soft bed. My body was 
exhausted, but my mind was racing at a 100 miles an hour. I couldn't 
settle down long enough to fall asleep. I knew what I had to do. For the 
past three years I'd beat off whenever I had trouble going to sleep, 
which seemed to be almost every night.

I moved both hands to the waistband of my briefs and pushed them down, 
then using my feet I slid them to my ankles and kicked them off with my 
feet. I grabbed my cock with my right hand and felt it come alive at the 
touch, gaining in length and thickness. I pushed back the bed covers and 
started stroking. A tingling sensation raced through my entire body, my 
right hand pumping away on my thick 6 inches of boy-cock, my left hand 
caressing my chest, my taut stomach and working on my hard nipples. 

In my mind I pictured my Dad's face, I felt a surge of love, my dick 
hardening to maximum size, hard as steel. Suddenly, though of course I'd 
never seen it, I picture my Dad's cock. It was a longer, thicker, he-man 
version of my own. After all I was his spitting image in most other 
features, it was only natural that his cock would be like mine. A groan 
escaped from deep in my chest and a shot of cum shot straight up in the 
air like a fucking fountain. One, two, three gushers of my thick white 
load rose up and then rained down on my naked body spotting it with 
small droplets of male goo. I lay perfectly still until they began to 
disolve, running slowly down my side.  

I hooked my briefs with the big toe of my left foot, reached down with 
my right hand to grab them and mopped up the mess. I put them to my nose 
and inhaled the scent of my manhood. I loved the smell; I wondered if 
other guys' smelled the same. I wondered what it tasted like. I'd tried 
on several occasions to find out. I'd start beating off determined I'd 
taste the load I shot, but once I'd cum I'd loose my nerve and chicken 
out.

I tossed the cum soaked brief into a bunch next to the bed, pulled the 
covers back over my naked body and drifted off into a deep, much needed 
sleep. I came awake with Dad sitting on the edge of the bed gently 
shaking me and softly calling my name.

"Sorry I had to wake you Kyle, I watched you for a few minutes and you 
were sleeping so soundly I feel terrible disturbing such beauty and 
peacefulness. You've been asleep for two hours, if you don't get up now 
it's going to be very hard for you to get in the swing of local time. 
Why don't you take a quick shower," he nodded toward the bathroom door, 
"and when you're ready join me down on the terrace, Lucia will serve us 
lunch."

He was about to get up and leave when I saw his eyes go the the stuck 
together clump of briefs lying next to the bed, just a momentary glance. 
A sly smile crossed his lips and I knew I'd been busted. He didn't say 
anything, but I knew he knew I'd beaten off. I was blushing again, and 
this time the flush covered every inch of my naked body I was sure.

I took a record quick shower, threw on a pair of baggy short, an 
over-sized tee-shirt and an old pair of Birkenstocks and joined the old 
man on the terrace. Lunch was great, just like eating in some expensive 
restaurant in a big city like New York.  We had avocado halves served 
with thin slices of smoked Italian ham and fresh melon balls, followed 
by a wonderful pasta in a light cream sauce with bits of anchovies and 
capers. I didn't ever like the salty little fishes, but after tasting 
them in this dish I rethought my position. For desert we had fresh 
picked strawberries with chantilly (what Europeans call whipped cream). 
The whole meal was washed down with a light sparkling white wine. I was 
actually surprised that I was served the stuff, but Dad explained that, 
"you move from milk to wine early in Latin countries. Just remember, 
everything in moderation."

Moderation or not by the end of the meal my head was as light and bubbly 
as the wine. Everything seem slightly humorous to me so I had to 
concentrate on being serious when Dad started to speak. "How would you 
like to earn some money and help me out at the same time."

"Sure, what?" I asked.

"I'd like you to pose for me. I need a model for cupid and I can't think 
of anyone who'd fill the bill better than you. I'll pay you the same fee 
I'd pay a regular model."

"Cupid?  I thought he was some little baby with wings who shot people in 
the heart with love arrows."

"You're only part right," Dad corrected me. "The part about the love 
arrows is true, but Cupid was no cherub, if you read your mythology 
you'd know he was a handsome and verile youth about your age. I'd say 
you meet all the criteria. So what do you say?"

What could I say. I wouldn't have refused if I wanted to, Dad was being 
so nice to me. The truth was I kinda got off thinking about being 
immortalized in some expensive marble statue, too cool. "I'd be happy to 
do it," I told him truthfully "and you don't have to pay me."

"No, that's not an option, you get paid, same as anyone else. Besides 
posing isn't as easy as you might think. It boring and tedious. You have 
to hold a pose for long periods of time and even with small breaks you 
have to return to the same position which you'd already been in for 
longer than you want to think about. In addition you are totally at the 
whim of a tempermental artist. No, you get the money, you'll earn it.

"After supper tonight, we dine at 9:00 as does most of southern Europe, 
we'll do a few preliminary sketches, work for an hour more or less."

"Why are you going to do sketches, I thought this was supposed to be a 
statue," I asked.

"No model could sit through the amount of time it takes to sculpt a 
piece of marble.  No I'll make a series of drawing of you from every 
conceivable angle. I'll use those when I begin working on the stone 
directly."

"Great. Is it OK if I just wander around the area? I'd sort of like 
getting my bearings, you know get the lay of the land around here."

"That's no problem. I'll ask Carlo, he's the gardener, to show you 
around and walk you down to the village.  It's not very big, but it's 
the center of life in these parts. I think you'll find it interesting."

Carlo turned out to be a jovial older man of about 60. He spoke very  
broken English which he said he'd picked up while living in the States 
for 15 years, years before, but he understood everything I said, and 
before long he was into a running commentary on the local area, the 
customs, the regional cuisine and the history. There was a lot to tell. 
The village, though not very large, was very charming, like right out of 
a travel magazine, you know the type. Its history dated back to the time 
of the founding of Rome itself, or at least that's what Carlo said.

It was going on 8:00 by the time we got back to the villa. I was hot and 
sweaty and decided to take another shower, both to clean and revive 
myself before supper. I went up to my room and shut the door.  I was 
only wearing two pieces of clothing and the sandals (I don't wear 
underwear during the summer and the Italian Spring was hotter than any 
Summer Vermont ever thought about having.

I walked into the bathroom, reached in and turned the shower control on 
to it hottest setting and walked over the latrine.  I just stood there 
with my limp dick pointing down over the bowl. I didn't touch myself, 
just let go with a hot healthy stream of piss until I was drained. I 
turned back to the shower, adjusted the controls to a suitable 
temperature and climbed in.  The water was wonderful and stimulating.  I 
thought about stroking off another load, but it was getting close to 
9:00 and I didn't want to be late for my first supper with Dad. Besides 
abstenance now only assured a more intense blast off at bedtime. I 
finished the shower quickly and toweled off.

I decided to dress for dinner, a red Landsend polo shirt, new 501 levis 
and a pair of well broken-in boat shoes. Supper was even better than 
lunch had been. Conversation centered on my afternoon's adventure with 
Carlo and assorted small talk. 

It was past 10:00 by the time we walked over to Dad's studio. I was 
looking forward to posing, but had no idea what it really entailed. I 
don't know what I expected an artist's studio to look like, but it sure 
wasn't what I saw. The place looked more like a small factory. Dad 
explained that sculpting required heavy equipment and tools; a brush 
artist would work in a very different sort of place.  In one corner 
there was a platform surrounded on three sides by heavy velvet drapery. 
This was where I was to pose.

"OK Kyle take off your clothes, then stretch out on that leather bench, 
lie on your right side facing me."

"You want me naked?"

"Sure, do you think Cupid ran around in jeans?"

"I guess not, but I didn't think...I didn't realize I had to pose 
naked."

"Do you have a problem with that? Listen if it bothers you we don't have 
to do this. I can hire one of my regular models, not a problem."

"No, its cool, I'm just a little surprised. I've never really been 
around anyone naked, at least not since I was a little kid."

"I understand, but I am your father and a guy, I've seen it all before," 
he laughed.

I kicked off my shoes, hauled the polo shirt over my head and popped the 
buttons on my 501s and then peeled them off. Dad wasn't watching me, 
which made it easier to strip, he was busy getting together pencils, 
pads, erasers and other assorted paraphenalia.  By the time he was ready 
and turned his attention to me I was already undressed and lying on the 
bench.

He looked at me for a long minute. "Kyle, could you er...pull your 
testicles out from between you legs and sort of plump them full, then 
drape your penis over them. Right, that's good. Now lean up on your 
right elbow. No not like that." He came toward me and very gently posed 
me the way he wanted me, before stepping back to take a look. "Now I 
want you to look down at the floor and pretend that you're deep in 
thought. That's it, just like that, don't move, hold that pose."  

He went back to the stool he'd been sitting on, took up his pad and a 
pencil and began to sketch furiously. I could just see him if I looked 
out of the corner of my eye. 

After five minutes or so I understood why posing wasn't as easy as it 
seemed. I wanted to move so bad, I itched in at least 10 different spots 
and could do nothing about it. I guess Dad sense my discomfort because 
he said, "just a little trick, try daydreaming, think about something 
and get into it. That will take your mind off not being able to move."

I did what he suggested and it worked. I thought about how much change 
had taken place in just a few hours. Landing at the airport, meeting 
Dad, seeing the villa, my afternoon with Carlo and then I remembered my 
nap and then my jerk off session. Suddenly all I could think of was the 
sight of my Dad's big dick or at least the image of it I'd conjured up 
during masturbation.

I really couldn't tell and didn't want to look, but I knew I was 
throwing a woody. Of course I tried to direct my thoughts to less 
stimulating imaginings, but I just couldn't get the picture of that 
piece of meat out of my mind. I knew I had a full blown hardon when I 
felt it throb a couple of times. I glanced down at it, it was worse than 
I'd thought. Not only was I fully stiff, but the throbs had apparently 
pushed out a healthy load of clear sticky precum. I felt a sudden wave 
of heat as my body flushed over every inch. I cautiously glanced at Dad. 
He was working away, seemingly oblivious to my situation. Could it be 
that he hadn't noticed? 

What had I gotten myself into?  By this time I was so horny all I wanted 
to do was pump out a quick load. I cursed myself for not having taken 
the opportunity during my shower. My balls were tingling, my cock had a 
mind of its own, throbbing and bobbing. I was afraid I'd shoot off 
right there without touching myself. I wante to die before Dad noticed. 
He hadn't stopped sketching nor did his expression show any sign that 
he'd seen my plight.

Finally he said, "OK let's take a break. There's a robe over there on 
the hook," he nodded over at the wall. I nearly ran toward it, my still 
stiff cock pointing the way. I slipped my arms into the sleeves and 
wrapped it around my body. I tied the belt around my waist carefully 
trapping my dick under it so that it didn't poke out or tent the robe. I 
turned back to Dad.

"Kyle, can we have a little talk?"

Here it comes, God I wanted to disapper. "Sure Dad," I said softly.

He walked over to a small sitting area at the far end of the studio. He 
sat down in a black leather recliner and indicated I should sit opposite 
him in an overstuffed suede easy chair.

He looked me straight in the eyes and smiled. I smiled back, though it 
was a bit forced, I didn't really have anything to smile about. "Kyle, 
more than almost anything else I want us to have a totally open and 
honest relationship with each other. There is nothing I want you to be 
afraid to discuss with me, at anytime. For my part I will never lie to 
you. Got it?"

"Got it. I think I'd like that."

"Good. Now I want to ask you a question, is that alright?"

"I guess so."

"Do you smoke pot?"

The question blew me away. I was so sure we were going to have one of 
those sex talks, this came totally out of left field. I was so surprised 
that I answered honestly without even thinking about it. "Yeah, but not 
very often. Mom was so strict I could only do things like that if I was 
with a friend. I wouldn't have dared keep grass at the house, let alone 
smoke it there."

"I smoke, in moderation, of course, but enough to be relaxing and 
enjoyable. I'd like to be able to smoke with you. Here in Italy grass 
isn't too available so we smoke hash. Interested?"

"Cool, I've never smoked hash, I'd like to try."

"Good. I think you'll like it even more than pot. Same kind of high only 
a little more intense. You'll see what I mean. Hold on for a minute."

He got up and walked over to a large roll top desk he had in one corner. 
He pulled out a drawer and removed a small wooden box. This he brought 
back to the sitting area. After sitting down he opened the box and 
removed a small pipe carved out of stone. He held it up, "I made this 
myself," he handed me the intricately carved piece. "It's beautiful," I 
said. "Thanks, but it's also very practical." He was busy scrapping 
small pieces from a little block of what looked like dark green wax with 
a small penknife."  

I handed the pipe back to him and he filled the bowl with the 
scrappings. He held it up to his mouth and lit it with a lighter. After 
inhaling a puff he handed it to me and I did the same. I felt really 
cool to be smoking with my own Dad. After we'd passed the pipe back and 
forth four or five times I was totally mellowed out and so was Dad.

"This is great," I said. I meant everything, my new life, my Dad, 
everything. He thought I meant the smoke. "Just remember anything is 
cool in moderation and as long as nobody gets hurt."

"Right, got it."

"Good and one more thing, about you're little, well not so little, 
problem while you were posing. If it makes you feel better when I was 
your age if a cool breeze hit my naked penis I'd get an instant 
erection. Looks like your a chip off the old block. I just didn't want 
you to feel embarrassed, and I think you were."

"I thought you'd think I was some kinda freak," I said.

"There's nothing freaky about sex. It's the most natural thing in any 
person's life. As far as I'm concerned there are no rights or wrongs. 
Moderation and consideration are the only rules. You can't let sex 
consume your life and sex must be totally acceptable between the people 
having it together and of course the persons involved should have the 
full ability to make the decision to have sex. You must never take 
advantage of somebody who isn't in full control either because of age, 
drunkeness or mental ability. Have you ever had sex?"

"Only masturbation."

"That's cool, you have plenty of time to experience the rest and you 
will, but in the meantime there's nothing wrong with a good whack off. I 
know its my most frequent form of pleasure and very convenient," he 
laughed.

I couldn't believe I was having this kind of conversation with my own 
father, but he made it so natural I was comfortable with it. Besides 
everything he said made total sense, I just didn't expect it.

"Don't you have any girlfriends?" I asked.

"No, I'm not really the type for just one steady women. Actually I guess 
I'm just too odd for anyone to want to settle down with me, same reason 
things didn't work out with your Mom. No, I settle for sex where I can 
get it, when I can get it. You know there are two different kinds of 
sex. One between two people who love each other as an expression of that 
love. The other is pure recreation, you do it just for the pleasure. 
Both types are perfectly acceptable. When you have a special person then 
you have both types with that person. Sometimes between two people who 
love each other you have love sex, at other times you have it for fun, 
down and dirty. In my case I just have recreational sex. My life's less 
complicated that way. Of course it's not always available, that's where 
masturbation come to the rescue. I've never turned myself down." He 
laughed and I joined him.

"Well I think we're both stoned to the bone, maybe we should call it a 
night, it's been a busy day for you especially. We can get back to the 
sketching tomorrow." With that he got up and so did I. I went over to 
get dressed, but he told me, "just pick up your clothes, you can wear 
the robe back to the house. No sense getting dressed just to get 
undressed in a couple of minutes."

I picked up my things and followed him out of the studio. He kissed me 
good night in the hall outside of our rooms. My hardon came instantly 
back, I was glad to escape into the privacy of my bedroom. I shucked the 
robe as soon as the door was closed, with only one thing on my mind. 
Before getting into bed I turned on the small night light, if I had to 
take a piss during the night I didn't want to be tripping over things in 
a still unfamiliar place.

I'd hardly reclined on my bed before I grasp my rock hard cock in my 
fist. I'd decided to make this session long and slow. Sometimes when I'm 
real horny, like then, I like to tease myself, bringing myself close to 
the edge and then backing off, building back up to the point of no 
return and just in time easing off again and so on until I can't stand 
it any more. This usually results in a nut busting blow out.

I had been going at it for about 10 minutes and was really into it with 
visions of Dad's dick running through my head. I'd already come close 
four or five times and was so into it I didn't hear the door open. It 
wasn't until I heard my Dad's voice that I came to my senses. "Kyle..." 
he was just standing there staring at me, or I should say the raging 
hardon in my tight fist. "Oh God, I'm sorry, I should have knocked."

I was more than embarrassed and shocked. I didn't even have the good 
sense to let go of my cock or cover myself. I don't know where it came 
from or why I said it, but I just blurted out, "it's OK Dad, no secrets 
between us, care to join me?" I let out a weak laugh.

He just stood and stared for what seem like forever, but couldn't have 
been more than a few moments. Slowly a smile crossed his lips and I 
relaxed a little. "Why not? I haven't jerked off with a buddy since I 
was about your age, but we both know you're up for it, I was thinking of 
taking care of business myself, so why not."

Even in the dim glow of the night light I could see that the boxer 
shorts he was wearing were beginning to tent out and it looked like 
there was quite a tent pole holding them out. Before he'd reached the 
bed it had managed to poke its way out the flyhole. He stripped out of 
the boxers and I got my first unobstucted view of the family jewels. 
Even better than I'd pictured. His cock was at least 8 inches of super 
thick rock hard meat. It looked like mine on steroids. I sure hoped mine 
looked like it when it finished growing.

I'd sat up in bed with a pillow behind my back. Dad grabbed the other 
pillow and propped it up against the footboard and rested back against 
it. He took the lead, fisting his massive meat slab with long easy 
strokes. I just gripped mine, squeezing it slowly and gently, I didn't 
want to shoot too soon and was right at the edge. My eyes were rivited 
to his magnificent tool. Without realizing it I spoke my thoughts out 
loud, "it's so beautiful, I wish I could touch it."

Only when he responded did I realize I'd said anything. "Go ahead, if 
that's what you want to do, I won't mind."

I was shocked, but my lust overcame my senses. I bent forward and 
tentatively reached out and touched the fat meaty head of his cock with 
my finger. Dad removed his hand from himself and opened his legs to give 
me full access. I laid forward onto my stomach; with one hand I explored 
the smooth tight skin of his solid shaft while the other toyed with the 
large egg-sized balls resting just below his rock hard cock column. 

I had the overwhelming desire to take it into my mouth. The urge to suck 
on the beautiful instrument of my creation was like nothing I'd ever 
experienced before, I fought to control myself.  

Dad let out a deep sigh, "I feels so good to have somebody touching me 
that way." And as if reading my mind, "do whatever you'd like to it, it 
won't break."

With that comment went the last measure of my self-control. I looked up 
at Dad's face. His eyes were closed, a look of pure pleasure on his 
face. I opened my mouth and moved to the object of my sudden passion. In 
one quick movement I took him into my mouth. Dad's only reaction was to 
let out a deep groan of pleasure and to caress the back of my head and 
neck with his strong right hand. That was all I needed. I went crazy 
with lust, it was as though I'd been born to suck cock. I made love to 
my Dad's monster meat, I was a lost soul. Dad also seemed to loose 
control. After just laying back and letting me have my way for the first 
five minutes he grasped my head with both of his hands and began 
pistoning his cock in and out of my hungry mouth. The volume and 
intensity of his moaning and groaning increased and I knew he was close.

At that moment I wanted his load more than I'd ever wanted anything in 
my life.  I felt his cock swell between my lips, his body stiffened, he 
let out a yell as spurt after hot spurt of his tick cum filled my mouth. 
I gulped it down, savoring the musky taste, it tasted just the same as 
mine smelled. I managed to suck out and gulp down every drop he had to 
give me.  I didn't let him out of my mouth until I was sure he was 
finished and not until he was breathing normally again.

When I finally let him loose he rolled me over and grabbed my dick with 
his hand and began to stroke me off. It didn't take long, may two or 
three pumps of his hand when I shot off the biggest, most intense orgasm 
of my young life. Dad rubbed my still hot load into my chest and stomach 
until the whole room was scented by the smell of man cum, it was making 
me horny again. I reached out for his cock, but he stopped me.

"Remember everything in moderation. There'll be other times." He leaned 
over and kissed me gently on the lips.