Date: Fri, 3 Aug 2007 13:01:51 -0700 (PDT)
From: Cover yer Teeth <coveryerteeth@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Hardwick Men, part 2

This story is a work of original fiction intended to explore unconventional
familial relationships between consenting individuals fully capable of
acting in their own best interest.  Depictions of young characters'
developing sexuality are not intended to promote the exploitation of
minors, rather to establish necessary character development.  However, if
this content sounds offensive to you or is prohibited by law where you are,
please do not read it.

The Hardwick Men, part 2

    Dad's sleepovers got to be a regular thing. At first it was once every
other weekend or so. Then it was every week. Pretty soon our house was
Dad's fuck pad every Friday and Saturday night. Sometimes we would see ones
that we had seen before, but mostly it was a different gal from one time to
the next. Two or three at a time on occasion. Every time, Dad's door was
left open just enough for us to catch part of the show and every time we
were right there at the top of the stairs to watch.

     Every now and then, Dad would bring home a girl for him as well as
another couple. Those were the best nights because there was always some
action to be seen from our usual watch post. He and the other guy would
trade off passing them back and forth. He really got into it when he had a
bud there to share his conquests with. He was always putting his arm around
the other guys' necks and slapping them on the back. Once we saw the ladies
take turns trying to fit both big dicks in their mouth at the same time!
Neither of them were very successful since Dad's massive cock choked most
as it was. He and that other guy had a big laugh over it. They pressed
their big dongs together and tried to squeeze between the rows of teeth,
but it was a no go. They nearly fell over from laughing so hard and they
put their arms around each others shoulders to keep themselves steady.  The
three of us had to burry our faces in the carpet a few times to keep from
giggling loud enough to be discovered.

     The topper had to be the time Dad threw a party. He had us help him
clean house and straighten up, all day, one Saturday. We all helped out
with chores and such, but it was highly unusual for Dad to care about
having the whole house presentable at the same time. Around seven that
night, people started to arrive. He had us greet the first few in between
sending us to and fro with some last minute honey-dos like filling the ice
bucket for the drink tray he kept in the living room. After the first party
guests had settled in, he dropped a really unexpected bomb on us.

     "Boys, I want you to go upstairs, now, and start getting ready for
bed. You can use my bathroom so you don't have to each wait your turn in
yours. There's going to be a lot of people around here tonight and I'd
rather you not be underfoot. OK? Can you do that for Dad?"

     We had never had a bedtime, before. Moreover, I can't recall another
time when Dad sent us to our rooms. We were so used to having our run of
the house that his request came as a crushing disappointment. He very
rarely ever asked us to do stuff for him, though, and he capitalized on
that debt with the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes, curtailing
our pouty-faced-whining gambit before we could even get it off the ground.
We did as we were told . . . for the most part. Defeated, we stomped up the
stairs, one after the other, and headed into Dad's bedroom.

     "Man, this sucks!" Shane proclaimed as he flopped backwards on to
Dad's bed.

     "Yeah, really. What's the deal? Dad's never told us we couldn't hang
out with him, before." Brad added, leaning up against the inside of the
door to close it behind him.

     I took one of the stroke-books out of Dad's stack and sat on an end
table flipping through it. "I know! The first real party ever thrown in
this house and we don't even get to stay for it."

     "What a jip!" Shane bellowed. Due to his frustration he was having
trouble controlling his volume. He huffed for few seconds and then sat
straight up with a shot. "Wait. Dad said he doesn't want us underfoot,
right? Well, as long as we stay out of sight there's no harm done if we
stay up for a while to watch the party get started. Like, from the stairs
or something."

     In textbook fashion, Dad's baby boy, Brad, wasn't so quick to defy his
wishes. "Are you sure we should? What if we get caught?"

     "Well," my desire to see the party in full swing was already two steps
ahead of my conscience, rationalizing Shane's idea into a workable plan,
"when have you ever known Dad to leave his friends to come make sure we
weren't getting into trouble?"

     "Never!" Shane was chomping at the bit. "So that's it, then. Let's
go!"

     "Hold up!" Unlike my older brother, I'd already given some thought to
the possible ways this could come back to bite us in our collective asses.
"People are still showing up. What are we gonna sneak downstairs for, right
now? To watch people take their coats off? Let's at least wait until the
party gets going. That way we won't be risking getting busted just to catch
the boring stuff."

     Brad chimed in with, "Good Idea!" And with that insightful
contribution, we grabbed a stack of Dad's magazines and sat in a circle in
the floor by the door to his room, passed them around and waited for the
doorbells to stop. As I'm sure you can imagine, listening to the frequency
of the doorbells soon became an afterthought as our young eyes poured over
vivid pictures of rock-hard cocks drilling away; copious loads of thick,
white spooge flinging from the purple tips of big baby-makers onto eagerly
awaiting tongues. My two brothers and I were soon pitching tents and
groping at our stiff pricks through our jeans. Just about the time we would
have reached the point of no return and had to whip them out for a wank,
Mr. One-Track-Mind suddenly snapped back on track.

     Shane reached over to flick my shoulder with his hand and said, "Hey!
I haven't heard the bell in a while. Let's go scope it out!"

     Slowly, we opened the door to Dad's room and quietly stepped down the
hall past our bedrooms toward the landing above the living room. With every
step we were met with ever more distinctly audible sounds that excited both
our anticipation as well as our fear of discovery. It was like a choir of
Christmas carolers singing over each other in canon, except no one was
singing. There was music playing but the voices we heard didn't make the
sounds of idle party chatter. Despite wanting desperately to see what Dad
and all his friends were up to, our steps were slowed by the uncertainty
over what the strange sounds coming from the living room could possibly
foretell. Nearing the landing, those noises were now ringing distinctly in
our ears and the air began to change.

     It was a balmy Spring night and yet the air in our house had become
warm and thick with a discernibly different aroma wafting through it than
we three youngsters had never encountered before. The smell was salty and
sweet. It tickled my nostrils and I found some of the undertones to be
slightly offensive. The scent certainly would have been had it grown to be
much more pungent, but as it was I found it strangely enticing. Shane took
the lead and lowered to his hands and knees as he came to the end of the
hall. Brad and I followed suit and then the three of us crawled on our
stomachs out onto the landing. The staircase that descends into our living
room has posts in the banister at each step which continues into a railing
along the edge of the landing that overlooks the room. My heart was
pounding in my chest and time seemed to slow as we inched ever closer to
the banister. The sight that lay before my eyes was more incredible than
anything I had ever tried to wrap my young mind around; more wondrous than
anything else I had ever witnessed in my childhood.

     Our living room was full of naked people! I was literally frozen in
astonishment. There were probably thirty of them, all told. They were
fucking on our couches, on the floor and against the walls. One of Dad's
pornos was playing on the big screen, but it didn't seem like anyone was
paying attention to it. With all that bare flesh about, it was difficult to
tell where one person ended and another began, but I quickly noticed that
the vast majority of the party guests were men. A big hard dick and hairy
balls stand out no matter what the scene. Rows of throbbing cocks were
being sucked off while plenty more were being jerked by their owners while
they waited in line. Some of the guys had the privilege of fucking while
most were just standing around beating off to the show. Everyone was
dripping with sweat and writhing in delirious pleasure. The corners and
edges of the carpet were littered with used rubbers. My questions had been
answered. That smell rising up from this fuck-pit to curl the hairs in my
nose was the smell of sex and sweat; cum, cock and ass. I simply could not
fathom what I was seeing, let alone that it was happening in our house on
the very same spot where we shoveled popcorn into our mouths and watched
Disney movies!

     Our six wide eyes intently surveyed the action, hardly blinking for
fear of missing anything good. It was all good. It was more than good. It
was incredible! We lay there motionless for what seemed like forever,
mouths agape and tongues wagging. Finally Brad asked the question that
should have been the initial reaction from each of us, had the capacity of
rational thought not been completely blown out of our little minds by all
the fucking.

     "Do you see Dad?"

     It took a moment for Shane and I to snap out of it and focus. We
didn't fully know what we were seeing, but with a shared curiosity in the
whereabouts of our father we managed to look discerningly through the
mélange of coitus and flesh to single him out.

     Shane always did have an uncanny knack for "Where's Waldo." His voice
took on an uncharacteristically humbled quality, as if he feared that
should he speak out loud he might shit himself. In an eerily awed tone he
whispered in long, drawn-out syllables, "Coffee Table."

     Immediately I shifted my gaze to the flesh pile in the center of the
room. My first thought was, "Oh, no wonder I didn't see him before! He's
almost facing away from us." A second later, when I noticed exactly what it
was he was doing, my brain just melted and it felt like every thought or
potential thought contained within came running out of my ears. Dad was
slamming his monster cock into one of his party guests. In and of itself,
this would not have been so remarkable. However, our Dad was not the only
guy fucking this woman!

     She was propped up on something that lay on the coffee table. That
something was a man. A man that had his dick shoved up in her, too. At the
same time that our Old Man was vigorously thrusting into her with that
spectacular organ that created the three of us. Never before had I even the
vaguest conception that it would be possible to double-fuck someone.  Yet
there I was, watching it happen before my very eyes.  And to top it all
off, one of those double-fuckers was my own father! There was also a guy
standing on the coffee table, with his ass facing Dad as he straddled the
people that lay beneath him, getting a blowjob from the one on top. The man
on the bottom of the pile was just kind of laying there, reaching up with
both hands to grope whatever he could get his hands on. Dad's huge dick
slid along the base of that other guy's shaft until it disappeared and his
heavy nuts came flying up to slap against that guy's tight ball-sack.

     Dad looked like an unleashed animal! He was bucking and humping and
grunting and going to town! You could see the sinews of the muscles in his
ass rippling non-stop. He got so carried away he lurched forward and almost
lost his balance, but he threw his right hand out in front of him and
caught himself. I'm not sure if he was fully aware of it, given the state
of wild abandon that had seemed to come over him, but for some time he
braced himself up with that arm, all the while with his hand planted firmly
right where it had landed . . . on the taught, round ass of the guy in
front of him who was being blown!

     So much of what was going on seemed unreal to us. We knew that our Old
Man wasn't ashamed to get his fuck on in front of other people, but we
thought that he was unique in that respect. We knew enough about how the
world worked to know that our house was unusual and that most people
weren't as relaxed about sex as Dad. It had never occurred to me that
people might have sex anyplace other than in a bed and I certainly would
never have guessed that so many people would be keen to the idea of
participating in a big sex party like that! They seemed to be breaking so
many of the unspoken rules that I had always assumed govern the way people
behave around each other. But it didn't look as though they were doing any
harm. Everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves. In fact, everyone seemed
to be having a blast!

     I felt shaken to my soul. I didn't know what was happening to me at
the time. I probably assumed this overwhelming feeling and burning in my
chest was a natural reaction that would happened to any 11-year-old who
happened into a front-row seat for a full-fledged orgy. If you can call
that natural. But looking back, I can place that moment as the instant when
I let go of my reliance on the "unspoken rules" we live by. I didn't
understand a lot of things I saw that night, but I did know that I saw a
lot of people having a whole Hell of a lot of fun without letting anything
hold them back. As I was only 11, though, I was very much unconcerned with
deep, meaningful personal revelations that I didn't even quite understand.
At the moment, there was one far more trivial thing weighing on my mind.

     "Doesn't that guy know that the hand on his ass is Dad's?"

     Shane and Brad fought like Hell to muffle their chuckles. After
stifling himself, Shane's head bobbed up and down with his mouth open sort
of silently laughing before he said, "Yeah! You'd think, huh? I mean, I've
seen Dad's thumb slide right up into his crack a few times. He's GOT to
know it's there!"

     Obviously bewildered by everything, but still wanting to be included,
Brad chimed in. "Maybe he doesn't realize."

     "Or maybe he doesn't care," I said. "I wouldn't have thought the idea
of putting my dick into the same place as another guy's and then rubbing
them around together would sound like much fun, but Dad sure seems to like
it. If it's okay to do stuff like that, who cares if one guy's hand lands
on another guy's butt?!?"

     "Yeah," Shane said. He was back to his usual smart-assed tone of
voice. "You'd have to be pretty careful walking around naked in a room full
of hard cocks like that. If you lost your balance and fell backward you
could end up getting cornholed!" Laughing at your own jokes is pretty lame.
But then, at that age, so was Shane. He had to eat carpet to keep from
giving us away.

     I wasn't sure I had caught the meaning of what he said. Brad? I'm
pretty sure Brad had suffered an aneurysm by this point. He sat there with
this glazed-over look on his face, staring into the sex pile, dead to the
world. I was actually perplexed enough to draw my attention away from the
show.

     "What's that? That thing you said?"

     Once my older brother caught his breath, he looked at me with this
cock-eyed expression and said, "Cornholed?"

     "Yeah. What is that?"

     It took Shane a second to respond. His focus had returned to intently
soaking in the World Series of Sex being held in our living room. His eyes
quickly darted toward me and, after an expression of painful annoyance
washed over his face, he relented. "Cornholing is when you stick your dick
up someone's butt."

     "Gross, Dude! Why would you do that?!? You'd get dookie all over you."

     "Huh?" was all he had to say. He thought he'd done his part in
answering my initial question and then promptly checked-out of the
conversation. "Look, you don't get it. Just shut up. Would ya'? I'm trying
to watch!"

     Soon after, the animalistic fucking noises began to be interrupted
occasionally with a, "Here it comes!" or an, "Oh, Shit! I'm gonna cum!"  We
didn't get to see all the men blow their loads. Some wouldn't pull out for
anything. That's why man invented the reservoir tip. Luckily, most of the
guys just let that hot jizz fly. It was like the 4th of July! All around
the room, nutts were busting and awe inspiring displays would fly up into
the air.

     Something was happening that drew our attention back to the coffee
table. Dad finally moved his hand off of that guy's ass. Deeper confusion
set in for a moment when it looked like Dad was reaching in between that
guy's legs for his cock, but it turned out that he was just placing his
hand on the inside of the guy's left thigh to encourage him to move his
leg. When he got close to cumming, Dad motioned for him to move to one side
so he could watch the guy shoot. Now that the guy wasn't straddling the two
people below him anymore, Dad wasn't the only one who got a better view.
The guy huffed and wheezed as he violently jerked his slobber-slicked cock.
His balls bounced up and down like crazy before his hot, sticky wad fired
off and drenched the couple below him.

     That lit a fire under somebody because right afterwards Dad kicked it
into overdrive and the groans and wails got so loud that everyone's head
turned to see. Dad wasn't quite through, though. The guy standing on the
coffee table stuffed his softening, drippy cock back where it had been
while our Old Man hammered away. Before too long, we could tell he was on
the verge. He lost his rhythm and his legs stiffened up. It looked as
though every muscle in Dad's body, from his neck to his toes, was flexed.
Little shadows poured over the ripples in his frame like water. Then he let
out this massive growl and fell forward. He very narrowly missed getting a
faceful of man-ass. Although, he did fall into that chick so hard he
knocked the floppy cock out of her mouth.

     Pretty much all of the party guests had got off at least once by this
point. The party lasted for a few hours longer, but it began to mellow out
and slow down. Before long there were still a few people throwing down, but
some had already left and most were just sitting around in the buff,
casually petting each other and watching those who hadn't yet run out of
steam. That was when Shane made an unexpected declaration.

     "Damn, man. I can't take it, anymore!"