Date: Thu, 9 Dec 2010 04:20:39 -0800
From: James B. <azberan@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Hitchhiker and my Dad (Part 2) (Gay Incest)

This story is fiction. If this story is illegal in your area
or you are underage, I suggest not reading it. This is a
read-at-you-own-risk sort of thing. I can't force you to
/not/ read it. Basically this disclaimer exists to cover my
ass eh? So other usual disclaimers apply. Read at your own
risk. Otherwise, enjoy!  Be safe guys.  This is a fantasy.
Consequences of one's actions are suspended in this fantasy.
Which is what is it, a fantasy.  Critical thinking, always!

Author's Note:
     First up I want to thank the ones who sent me emails,
thanks for the feedback, the encouragement, and the
suggestions guys.
     Secondly, I'd like to apologize for the BLATANT typos
from the first chapter... in truth, I hardly edited that
piece, I just spell checked  (^_^)"  , I'll work hard to be
more meticulous in the future so you all will enjoy the
story better.
     Thirdly, this chapter is going to be written in two
perspectives; first Marc's perspective (starting from where
we left off), and then as an added background the dad's
(Joe's), perspective [a flashback].
     Lastly, I was going to post three chapters up.  But I
completely turned around and re-edited/typed the story to
combine elements and parts of the three next chapters into
this one LONG ASS second chapter.  There's less Brandon in
it, but there will be A LOT of him in the chapters to come.
     Hope you guys will enjoy the story.  It's a bit long,
but I hope it flows well.  It is meant to increase tension
and move the story along.  For those who ask/asked, yes Joe
and Marc (the dad), and the other kids are eventually going
to hook up (to varying degrees).  I thank you guys for your
patience, and I apologize for making you wait!
Chapter 2

     I was quiet during breakfast, and apparently I was
grimacing at my cereal.  At least that's what I found out
when Paul punched me in the shoulder to get my attention.
It turns out my Dad had been calling my name, asking if I
wanted more sausages.  Now he looked concerned and asked if
I was alright.  I was being stupid, not paying attention...
But I just shook my head and said that I was fine and made
up a lie about thinking hard about a test I took yesterday.
I think Dad bought my excuse.  Although for a moment I
thought I saw an odd look on Brandon's face, something like
curiosity, before he gave me a big smile and told me not to
think too much about it (referring to the test-lie, I
guess).  After that I ate my breakfast in a more normal (at
least I hoped it was normal) pace, and even joined in on the
conversation that passed around the table.  By conversation
I meant Kurt squealing on the high chair, being on his early
morning energy rush, Paul jabbering away something about the
latest episode of the LevelUp Sheriffs, my Dad trying to get
Kurt to calm down and eat, and Brandon looking at the whole
scene with a bemused face, while Steve helped my Dad try and
get Kurt to keep the food in his mouth long enough for him
to swallow.  I think Kurt was perfectly capable of feeding
himself, but I think he enjoyed the attention, and probably
thought that the frustrated look on both Dad's and Steve's
faces were amusing.

     "So guys, what do you say about going to the park
today?  Not the one close to the elementary school, but the
big one at Spruce Timbers Park?"  Dad asked, smiling, while
Kurt shoved a spoonful of mango in his mouth.

     "Yeah!  I wanna go!  Can we?  Can we?"  Paul asked
excitedly.  He was practically jumping out of his seat.  He
turned to Steve, "They have this HUGE jungle gym with like
ten slides, and there's like this reaaally long bridge that
moves when you walk on it, and like a hundred swings,
and..."

      He was exaggerating of course, but I gotta admit,
that's how I looked at it when I was his age too.

     "How about you buddy?"  Dad turned to ask me while Paul
still yammered to Steve about the thousands of ducks he
chased out of the ocean-wide pond.

     "I can't Dad, I'm hanging out with Cooper today."  I
responded.  "He wants to go bike to the high school to check
out where we're going to be next year, and then after that
we're just going to hang out and watch a movie or
something."

     "You can't put that off until some other time though?
You don't wanna hang out with us?"  Dad asked with a pretend-
sad smile (he usually did that to try and guilt me into
doing stuff, usually before he toughens up and tells me to
do stuff - unlike mom who threatens your very existence if
you don't do stuff for her).

     "Daaad, I'm too old for the playground.  Sides I
already told Cooper we'd be hanging out today.  Can we go to
the batting cages again tonight though?"  I really was
enthusiastic about that last part.  Paul didn't like
baseball that much.  My folks put him in the little league,
and he was just miserable, so they took him out.  Apparently
he wanted to play football, so they put him in that.  Dad
liked both sports, so he supported both of us, but baseball
and the batting cages became our thing.

     "Deal buddy."  He said with a huge smile, while
snatching a giant piece of sausage out of Kurt's mouth and
cutting it up into smaller pieces.

     "Are you going with them?"  I asked Brandon.  He'd been
quiet the entire time.  I already knew Steve would be going
with them, since that's his job and all.

     "Actually no buddy, I've got work today."  He said
uncrossing his arms, getting up and putting his dishes in
the sink.  I noticed he didn't wash them.

     "What do you do by the way?"  I asked as nonchalantly
as I could.  I think I did pretty well.  I was just eating
and making conversation.

     "Me?  Ummm... right now I'm helping an old friend of
mine make movies."  He said with a roguish smile.  I thought
I saw him look at Dad for second.  The same with Steve's
face, he smiled the same way that Brandon did at Dad.  Dad
wasn't paying attention and was trying to coax Kurt into
finishing up his mango.

     When Paul heard the word 'movie', the kid went crazy.
"You make movies!?  Cool!  What movies do you make?  Can I
be in 'em?  Can we watch?  How do you make one?..." and
about a thousand more questions.

     Paul chuckled from his throat, "Sorry buddy.  The kind
of movies we make isn't for kids.  Maybe when you're older,
or if some things change.  Have fun at the park guys, have
fun at your friend's Marc."  He said before heading down for
the basement.

     "Yeah, we better get going too.  Here Steve, can you
give Kurt a bath while I go and clean up and then take
mine?"  He said while clearing the dishes.  Paul had already
dashed off to the bathroom to shower first.

     "Yeah no problem."  He picked up Kurt who was squealing
and laughing about something I didn't know.  When he passed
by me he looked down and gave me a wink.

     I watched my Dad for a bit in silence while he washed
the dishes.  I began thinking about what I had seen last
night.  What crossed my mind was, underneath that shirt,
he's hairless and has nipple rings.

     "Umm, Dad?"  I began.

     He turned around in surprise and looked at me with a
smile.  "Oh you're still here buddy?  You're not going to
get ready?"

     "Paul ran up first, so he'll be in the shower a while."
I began.  He was looking at me expectantly, having turned
off the faucet to put all of his attention on me.  I was
going to say something else, but instead I said, "I'm really
excited about tonight Dad."

     His face lit up.  "Me too buddy."

    I smiled too.

     I had a lot to think about as I headed to Cooper's
house.  I was struggling with coming to terms about what I
had seen.  A part of me, the intelligent, critical-thinking
part, had an idea about what was going on between my Dad and
Brandon.  And that part was trying to convince me to react
in a certain way; fury, betrayal, hate, and a host of other
negative emotions that seems to be bubbling just under the
surface of my cool facade.  The man was hurting my mom.  At
least he would be if she knew about it.  But I also knew,
and I couldn't deny it any longer, that there was another
part of me that had other emotions about what I had seen and
heard.  These emotions were more difficult to come to terms
with.

     Two years ago my buddies and I got a hold of a porn mag
from some guy's older brother.  We looked at the naked women
and sometimes even the naked men, but in the magazine, it
was mostly women who posed naked.  I had felt nothing at
that time, only curiosity really.  I already knew about sex
by then and knew that if I were older, I'd react
differently, although I didn't really know how.

     It wasn't until two years later that I finally
understood the flush of emotion that overcomes the body when
someone's aroused.  It was the first time I reacted to
seeing a woman naked, and honestly it wasn't what I
expected.  I shivered like I was cold, but my body was quite
warm.  It took everything I had to keep my teeth from
chattering.  My palms became sweaty and I got an awfully big
head rush.  My brain buzzed loudly, I remembered that
enough.  I also remembered my dick getting hard.  It was the
first time it happened, at least back then I noticed it more
explicitly.  The first time that I was aware of the
overwhelming desire to grab my dick, to squeeze and stroke
it.  I remember it feeling good, even before I touched it.
It was like a rush of adrenaline the shook my entire body.
A flush of pleasure, a warmth that encompassed my body and
permeated every thought.

     What confused me was that I had the same emotions now
every time I thought about what I had seen yesterday
evening.  I don't shiver now of course.  I didn't shiver
after a few months since the first.  But I knew enough that
what I was feeling right now were of someone getting
aroused.  My dick was tenting my briefs as I thought about
this.  I reached down my shorts and re-adjusted my cock and
settled it pointing left and up on my thigh.

     It was disconcerting to know that I got hard thinking
about my dad taking a cock up his ass, Brandon's cock;
thinking about Brandon's hairy body, my dad's hairless one,
and the nipple rings; especially thinking about the way
Brandon talked to my dad, and how my dad seemed to accept it
so readily.  As I kept on thinking about it, I could feel a
wetness along my thigh.  Reaching down and stroking the spot
I realized that pre-cum was leaking out of the head of my
dick.  Curiosity got the best of me and, with the tip of my
fingers glistening from the pre-cum, realized that I liked
the feel of the liquid on my skin.  I grimaced at the taste.
Not because that I didn't like it, but because a quick flash
of thought went through my head of wanting more, desiring
more.  But I shook it aside and kept on walking.

     It dawned on me in that instant that I was still out in
broad daylight, in public.  I looked up and saw that I was
just standing at the end of the driveway of Cooper's house.
Panic seized me.  Had anyone seen?  I had been so lost in
thought that I had forgotten where I was, but somehow I had
unconsciously found Cooper's house with little trouble.  The
sudden panic and fear pushed the eroticism that boiled in my
veins aside and the hardness in my shorts vanished.  I
couldn't help but mutter "fucking idiot" to myself before
walking towards Coop's door.

     It was Mr. Daughtry who answered the door, Coop's dad.

     Had I knocked or rang the doorbell?  I wondered.  I
must've...

     I frowned at my own absent mindedness and set myself to
pay attention to the moment.  All this introspection was
fucking with my mind.  I've always been known to think too
much, to stay in my head longer than many people.  People
sometimes thought me slow because I took time thinking
things through, or for thinking too much.  People at first
expected me to say a lot, but I always took my time to think
things through, at least as much as I could.  But this was
more the case recently.  I told myself to think less about
my father and the hitchhiker, especially in public.  I was
doing things without thinking about it, my face probably
flashed emotion the same way.  I forced my lips into a
nonchalant smile, at least as best as I could after frowning
so heatedly.

     "Hi Mr. Daughtry, is Coop ready?"  I asked.

     "Coop!" He called over his shoulder.  "Marc's here.
You guys hanging out today?"

     "Hold on, I'll be right there!"  I could hear a voice
call right back.

     Mr. Daughtry motioned with his head, "Why don't you
come right on in Marc.  I didn't think you guys were hanging
out today.  He'll be right down."

     He lead me to a living room that was a splash of green
and red.  The walls were paneled in sections in a dull red,
while the green stretched as wallpaper in long rectangular
sections in between the panels.  Everything in the room
matched the walls.  The couch was a dull red hue, the
cabinets, tables, and shelves were crimson.  And the window
hangings were thick and a deep green with yellow polka dots
scattered along the fabric.  A large flat screen T.V. hung
at the far wall above the electrical fireplace with two
large stereos attached on the walls on either side.  The
Daughtrys were well off.  They weren't millionaires, or
anything of the sort, but they were what could be considered
"upper middle class".  Mr. Daughtry made a bit more than a
hundred grand a year, or so I heard from Coop, as an
engineer while Mrs. Daughtry was a dentist.

     "You guys got a new T.V.  Cool."  I couldn't help but
say.  Partially in admiration, and partially for something
to say.

     Mr. Daughtry chuckled and sat down at a red-green
checker patterned chair on the other side of the sofa.
"Yeah, I couldn't resist.  Sit down and make yourself at
home Marc.  So tell me, how've you been?  Missing your mom?"

     "I guess so.  But she won't be gone that long, not long
enough for me to miss her I'm sure."  I said with a shrug.

     "Yeah, I guess she'll be back in about another month or
so eh?  How's your dad handling it?"  He said this with what
I could make out as a wry smile on his face.  "Steve giving
him a hand?"

     "Um... yeah.  Steve's good with Kurt, and he usually
can get Paul to stay still.  He's a good guy."

     He kept on smiling.  "What about you?  Do you like
him?"

     I worked myself to not raise an eyebrow at that
question.  The way he asked it sounded like he was asking
something else.  Only my imagination maybe?  "He's an
alright guy.  I don't know him that well though.  I don't
really need a nanny."  I said insistently.

     He laughed.  "Well what about Brandon, what do you
think of him?"  He said, brushing the 5 O'clock shadow that
dusted his face.  I noticed that the shadow went down his
neck and past his shirt collar.  He was wearing a blue plaid
shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows.  I noticed
his arms were hairy too, and must've been twice as wide as
mine.

     It was then that I started to notice him more than I
had in the past.  Mr. Daughtry was tall, about 6'2", a few
inches shorter than my dad who was 6'4".  But he had longer,
wavy, dirty blonde hair that reached past his neck, but not
touching his elbows.  He had a square face with a sharp chin
that dimpled at the end.  A high nose and thick eyebrows,
and the bluest eyes I had ever seen.  He had wide framed
shoulders which coupled with what I could see of his hairy
forearms showed that this guy worked out.  I must've been
let my mind wonder because Mr. Daughtry was waving his hands
in front, rousing me from my reverie.

     "I'm sorry, what?"  I did it again, letting myself get
lost in thought.

     He chuckled and gave me a wry smile.  "I was asking
what you thought of Brandon."

     "You know about Brandon?"  I asked surprised.  Did my
dad tell him?  I thought it was supposed to be a secret so
mom would never know.  He always left through the rear
entrance of the house, and out of the rear garage every time
he went somewhere.

     He gave me a searching look.  "Yeah.  Don't worry about
it, your dad introduced me to him.  Don't worry, Mrs.
Daughtry doesn't know.  She'd probably tell your mom in a
heartbeat."  He winked.  "So what do you think of him?"

     "Brandon?"  I frowned.  "He's alright I guess.  I don't
know him very well though.  We don't talk much."

     "Mmmm..."  was all he said while stroking his chin.
"Well he's a good guy.  Kurt certainly seems to like him as
much as Steve.  You could try to get to know him better"

     That surprised me.  Around the house I never saw
Brandon interact all that much with Brandon enough to like
him the way Mr. Daughtry said.  I said as much to him.  But
before he could respond Cooper burst into the room in a run.

     "Shit, sorry Marc!"  He wheezed.  His dad whacked him
in the back of the next and said something about watching
his mouth.  "Sorry Dad.  But yeah, I know I said we'd hang
out today but I can't.  Mom's pretty mad at me and she's
making me clean my room."

     "You wouldn't have to if you'd done it before!"  She
called from somewhere upstairs.  The woman had ears like a
hawk.

     Cooper mumbled something dark and unintelligible under
his breath before going on, "we'll hang out tomorrow instead
okay?  I've been up the whole morning cleaning, but
apparently shoving stuff under my bed and in my closet
doesn't count as cleaning.  So she had me organize them in
piles that I'm supposed to put in storage, put in the
closet, or throw away."  He frowned.  "I don't think I'll
have time to play today.  She said she'd take my
SuperStation3 away!"

     "The sooner you get it done the sooner you'd be able to
play."  She called again from upstairs.  "Sorry Marc, but
I'm going to have that kid clean his room until it's
spotless!"

     I couldn't help but grimace with Cooper before he
shrugged his shoulders at me after a quick goodbye and ran
upstairs.

     "Guess I'll just go home then."  I said standing up.

     "Here, why don't I walk you home?"  He said standing up
too.  "Just hang on a second, I'm going to go grab something
before we go."

     He had left before I got the chance to tell him that I
was perfectly capable of going home by myself.  I mean it
was only a block away...

     But just as quickly, he was back and was calling
upstairs that he was going to the store to pick up a few
things.  I didn't hear the answer from upstairs before he
had ushered me out of the house and into his car.

     The drive back was a short one.  As I expected it would
be.  We didn't even get the chance to talk.

     I stepped out of the car once we had parked in our
driveway and started walking towards the door.

     "Um, thanks for the ride Mr. Daughtry."  I said with
one hand in my pocket and waved with the other.

     "Actually, I was wondering if I could have a drink
inside for a bit?  I'm kinda thirsty.  Besides, it'd give us
time to talk.  You've been friends with my kid for a long
while now and we haven't really talked."  He said, already
strolling to the front door.

     He didn't seem to want to go, I could tell that much.
I just nodded my head and shrugged my shoulders then went
past him to unlock the door.

     "What kind of drink do you want Mr. Daughtry?"  I asked
as he followed me to the kitchen.

    "Whatever beer your dad's got is fine."

     I handed him the first thing I saw inside the fridge.
He drank it happily enough it seems.  I poured myself a
glass of milk while I was here.  For a moment from the
corner of my eye I thought I saw him grin roguishly down at
me, but when I turned to look at him he was taking a sip of
his beer.

     We talked for a while, he asked me questions about
sports, life, school, and even how my Grandpa and my mom
were doing.  But in fifteen minutes time it seemed that our
conversation material was already exhausted.  I never could
hold very long conversations, let alone with an adult.  The
entire time we talked I noticed that he eyed me up and down,
appraisingly it seemed to me.  There was silence for a
minute while he kept talking to me and took one last gulp of
his beer.  I had already finished my glass of milk a while
back.

     "I saw you, you know."  He said with his arms crossed.

     I fidgeted.  "I'm sorry?"

     He gave me that wry, cocky smile again.  "Out on the
street.  I saw you shove your hand down your shorts, looked
at your fingers for a bit, and then licked and sucked them
clean."

     I forced my eyes not to widen, or display any sort of
emotion at all.  "I don't know what you mean."

     He laughed.  "You're pretty bold kid.  Doing it out in
public and all.  Like father like son I guess."

     "What do you mean?"  I couldn't help myself ask, the
curiosity burning in my eyes.

     He put the empty glass of beer in the counter and lean
back casually, and with his right hand began caressing his
crotch.  I couldn't help but look.

     He chuckled.  "Yeah, I saw the way you looked at me in
the house too.  And the look you made when I asked you about
Brandon.  You know don't you kid?"

     "Know what?" I grimaced at his crotch.  I saw an indent
forming on his jean fronts, the form of a cock getting hard.
He kept on stroking.

    "Come on kid.  Admit it.  Brandon told me that he
thought he heard someone up the stairs one night.  But he
didn't know who it was.  That was you wasn't it?"  He smiled
toothily.  "Wanna know about your daddy?"

     Before thinking, I nodded.

     I tore my eyes away from my crotch and saw him smiling
mischievously.  "Well, if you're a good boy I'm going to
tell you some things.  But you're going to have to do
something for me first."

     "What?"  I asked warily.

     "Come here and give me your hand."  He motioned with
his head.

     Hesitantly I took a step closer.  My heart was racing,
my palms became sweaty, and I couldn't help but feel a
tightness in my briefs.  I stopped after the second step and
began considering what I was doing.  But before I finished
thinking he had reached forward, grabbed my arm and pulled
me towards him, not roughly, but enough that I moved easily.

     "Now take your hand, and caress my bulge.  Go on now
boy."  He said.

     I stared at his bulge.  I could see it straining
against his pants.  At this distance, I could smell him too.
It was a musky scent mixed with soap.  I couldn't help but
breathe in a lungful of it.  My head was swimming.  I tried
to keep a tight reign over my actions, but while I was
trying to gather myself together, I found that I had already
extended my hand and was stroking the bulge that formed in
his pants.  He let out a moan.

     "Yeah.  What do you say kid?"  He said, the corner of
his lip twisted in a cocky grin.

     "It's big."  I muttered, still rubbing it gently.

     "Unzip the fly and pull out my cock."  He said in a
commanding voice.

     My head was swimming, I didn't think that could happen
anymore.  The feel of his bulge, the scent of his skin, they
were all hypnotic.  My mind was a slush of ideas, half
formed and unfinished, overwhelmed only by a desire to do as
this man says.  I began fumbling with his zipper, especially
pulling it down carefully.  When I did, I inserted my hand
into his pants and felt for his cock.  I heard a rumbling
sound coming from his throat.  I felt that he was wearing
boxer briefs.  It took me a while to find the cock slip and
put my hand through it.

     I felt his dick.  Very warm in my hand.  Hard.  Large.
I tried to get the whole thing around my hand, but I found
it difficult.  I almost thought I could smell it.  After a
little struggling, all the while Mr. Daughtry never raised a
hand to help me, I was able to pull it out in one forceful
pull.  I lost my grip when it popped out, and when it came
out of the zipper I was too close and it slapped my face.

     He laughed at that.  I looked up at him and saw him
smiling and sneering all at once.  I could see the lust in
his eyes.  See him barring his teeth.  I saw his hand moving
and it began to caress my head, stroking my hair.  I turned
my attention back to the cock, his eyes a command that I
couldn't resist.  I reached up with both hands, the head of
his dick a few inches away from my face.  I had
automatically stepped back when it slapped me in the face.
I could smell it now.  A strong musky scent, different from
the musk that came out of his skin from anywhere else but
his crotch.  It was a bit tangy, and wholly exotic.  I wound
my fingers around his cock and found that it was too large
for me to get my fingers around it.  I think it was called
heft.

     Studying it for a while, just caressing the soft skin
with my hands, I began to marvel at how large it looked.  It
must have been around 7 inches long, but the girth.  The
girth could fit more than three of my slender fingers.  He
was uncut.  When I pulled back the skin, a fresh wave of
that alluring musk overcame my senses.  When I did that I
saw a trickle of pre-cum seep through his piss slit.

     "Hold out your tongue."  He said in a breathy whisper.

     I did as I was told, extending my tongue directly
underneath the piss slit.  I had to stop looking at the tip
of his cock at the risk of becoming cross-eyed, instead I
looked up into his eyes.  I felt him caress my cheeks
tenderly, and then felt something touch my outstretched
tongue.  I felt it ooze slowly down, coating my tongue, and
I tasted something sticky and salty at the same time.  I
closed my mouth and moved the liquid around my mouth before
swallowing it.  Somehow the taste aroused me even more.
Shortly after I opened my mouth again, and instinctively I
moved closer to take the head of his cock into my mouth.  I
heard him moan.

     With my mouth around the head I began to suck while at
the same time play with the head with my tongue, or at least
try to.  I felt his hands at the back of my head, pulling
it, pushing his cock deeper into my mouth.  But it was too
large and too wide that I could not even take a quarter of
it.  He didn't force me and I kept sucking, working hard to
avoid touching the skin with my teeth.  Just sucking
gingerly on what I could fit on my mouth, jacking the rest
with my hands as best as I could.  I was guided by lust,
purely instinctual.

     I could taste more of the pre cum land on my tongue,
and every time I automatically swallowed.  The saltiness and
the stickiness was not unpleasant.  I found myself wanting
more of it.  I was lost in lust.  I could not tell you the
things that crossed my mind at that moment, except for the
desires that consumed every fibre of my being.  At that
moment those fibres desired his cock, his scent, his taste.
Here I was crouched down on the floor in the kitchen, taking
my best friend's dad's cock in my mouth.  I loved the
softness of his skin on my tongue, as much as the hardness
of his cock filling my mouth.

     Occasionally I would have a hard time breathing,
stopping occasionally to breathe in through my nose after
having found that I held my breathe when I sucked.
Sometimes he had shoved too much in my mouth and I chocked
and sputtered, but he never relented, neither did I.  His
cock never left my mouth.  Eventually it became a rhythm, my
head bobbing, my mouth sucking as much as I could take of
him.  Shortly after, I didn't know how long, I had stopped
paying attention long before, he began to pant harder.  Then
his hands fisted a fistful of my hair, and I felt him fill
my mouth.

     "Swallow it."  He whispered the command with a hoarse
voice.  "Drink it."

     I did as I was told, or at least tried too.  There was
so much... too much...  Without thinking, as his load filled
my mouth, I swallowed.  I felt the stickiness on my tongue,
a stickiness that was thicker and richer than his pre cum.
There was so much that I occasionally coughed and some
dribbled out of my mouth, trying hard to keep his cock in my
mouth.  I probably would not have been able to take it out
as he was still gripping my hair tightly.  Then the stream
began to slow, while I kept swallowing.  I could feel
wetness on my chin and neck, knowing it was the saliva and
cum that had dribbled down my mouth.  I kept swallowing,
drinking him in, I could feel the thick liquid oozing down
my throat.  I drank his cum until he had stopped convulsing
and loosened his grip on my hair.  He eased himself
backwards, taking his cock out of my mouth.  He was looking
down on me with a satisfied smile.

     He reached over with a finger, and with it scooped up
some of the cum that had dripped out, and then place his
finger inside my mouth.  I began to suck on it greedily,
still lost in lust.  He chuckled.

     "Good boy."  He said.  "Good boy."

     I couldn't stop looking at him, at his smiling figure.
He reminded me of my father.  My groin stirred at that
thought.

     He laughed now.  "I'll return the favour soon buddy.
For now, I gotta go.  But you're pretty good.  A natural,
just like your dad."  He said with a wink.

     Even in my erotic haze, I caught that.  I tried to
gather my wits about me, but he was already tucking his dick
back into his pants, and zipping up, then heading out of the
kitchen.  I followed him wordlessly, my own cock still stiff
in my pants, my brain buzzing with energy.

     Before heading out of the door he turned around.  "Oh,
almost forgot.  Here.  Go take a look at what's inside.
Might help you talk with your dad.  He'd like that."

     He threw a small thing into the air, and I barely
caught it with my fingers before it fell to the ground.

     "Might want to take a look at that before taking care
of yourself."  He gave me one last smirk and headed out the
door.

     I looked down into my hands and found that he had given
me a small rectangular shaped object, it was dark blue.  It
was a USB.  He had given me a memory stick.  The haze had
slowly began to dissipate, but I was still aroused.  I
jogged quickly into my room and turned on my computer.  I
almost jumped out of my chair in impatience while waiting
for the screen to load.  I had gotten it just recently.  A
birthday present, so I wouldn't have to use the family
computer in the living room, or my parent's computer in
their room.  When it finally finished loading, I shoved the
memory stick into a USB port and opened the drive.

     There were folders here, with different names, but I
clicked on the one with my dad's name, "Joe stuff".  There
were pictures and videos, about twenty of the first, and
three of the latter.  I clicked the first picture.  It was a
picture of my dad half naked.  He still had hair on his
chest and scruff on his face.  The nipple rings weren't
there yet.  I clicked the next one and found that he was
wearing less and was now in his white jock strap.  Click.
Click.  Click.  A picture of him turned around, showing his
ass.  A picture of him with a large bulge on his jock strap,
a hand cupping where his balls would be.  A picture of him
sitting on a couch, the tip of his cock peeking out.  A
picture of him completely naked, his dick standing at
attention.  It seemed big to me.  I thought that it probably
reached his navel.  Click.  Click.  Click.  More pictures of
him jacking.  Then there were pictures of him not alone.
There was someone else there.  It was Steve and he was
standing in front of dad.

     I always thought that Steve seemed thin, especially
since he liked to wear loose shirts.  But in these pictures
I saw that he had biceps, and pecs that stood out.  His abs
were well defined, and there was a dusting of hair that led
from his navel to his crotch.  He was naked too, his cock
standing straight ahead.  He was uncut, his cock head hiding
underneath its hood.  He had low hanging balls that had a
light dusting of light blonde hair, the same as his treasure
trail, but lighter than the hair on his head.  His cock
seemed large and hefty, although it didn't seem to be as
large or as hefty as my dad's.  The next pictures showed him
kneeling in front of my dad.  More pictures showed him
taking my dad's cock in his mouth.  I was caressing my own
cock with one hand, while clicking through the pictures with
the others.  The next few pictures showed him at various
points while sucking my dad.  The penultimate one showed
Steve hovering his ass over my dad's upraised cock.  The
last one showed my dad's cock having disappeared inside
Steve's ass, a look of pure ecstasy on his face.

     I clicked on the very first video.  It was long, about
ten minutes long.  It was in black and white, and showed a
living room where two people were talking.  I recognized it
as the living room downstairs in between the two basement
rooms.  The two men were on the leather couch, and they were
talking and laughing.  I increased the volume and heard a
high buzz in the background, but I also heard their voices.
I already could tell that it was my dad and Steve talking.
Talking and laughing.  They were talking about sports, work,
women, sports, and work.  This went on for a while until
near the end, in the last few minutes of the clip.

     I had skipped a few minutes in between guessing that
there wasn't much there.  I made a mental note to listen to
the conversations later.  But the last two minutes, were
different.  It seemed that the topic had talked to sex, and
about first times.  I saw that Steve had a hand on my dad's
leg while they chatted, absently caressing.  Then there was
a silence and a chuckling.  Steve was looking at the floor.
My dad raised his right hand and cupped the back of Steve's
head, making him turn.  Then he leaned in and kissed him,
his other hand resting on Steve's thigh.  I could hear their
lips smacking, their moaning.  They kissed for a while, and
passionately until my dad pulled Steve over to straddle him.
The video ended there.

     I opened the next video.  It was them again, in the
same place.  Just talking and laughing, but dressed
differently.  I fast forwarded the video, watching any
changes, my hand still stroking my cock.  Then half-way
through I saw it.  Steve got up and kneeled down in front of
my dad.  He began to unzip my dad's pants, and then took out
his cock and then took it into his mouth.  I could see
Steve's head bobbing up and down.  My dad's had his head
tilted back, his eye's closed, his mouth half open in
pleasure.  Turning up the volume I could hear the sucking
and the slurping, and my dad's moans.  I fast forwarded once
more.  Eventually Steve took off his clothes, and my dad
took his off too.  They were both standing, holding each
other, kissing and caressing each other's bodies.  Steve was
a head shorter than my dad, his hands jacking my dad's cock.

     Then Steve turned around and bent over.  I didn't
notice that my dad was holding something in his hand, a
bottle.  He squeezed some onto his hand, and knelt down
behind Steve.  He seemed to have rubbed whatever it was into
Steve's ass, and then put some into his own cock.  Then I
saw it.  The look of lust in both of their faces.  My dad
setting aside the bottle, using one hand to grip Steve's
waist, the other to aim his cock.  And I saw his hips move
forward, and heard Steve moaned out load.  My dad was
fucking him.

     I heard laughing down below, somebody squealing.  It
was Kurt.  They were home.  I hastily turned off the
speakers, closed the video window, and yanked out the memory
stick.  I moved quickly to my bed and inserted the USB into
a one of the steel railings that supported the mattress
underneath.  I calmed myself before heading down.  As much
as I could anyway.  The buzzing in my head was back, but so
where the thoughts.  My mind raced ahead of me.

     How long had Steve and my father been having sex?

     What were they to each other?

     And how does Brandon factor into this?

     The questions and theories filled my mind, but I forced
myself to push them aside and went downstairs to greet my
family.  So many questions.  How did this begin?



Joe's Perspective (the Dad): Part I


     Elle, my wife, was leaving for two whole months.  Of
course she had a good reason to.  Jimmy was a stubborn, old
bastard.  The guy didn't want to leave his house, didn't
want to sell the place.  I could understand why, he was
proud of that house; proud that he had built it himself and
of the memories he had built in it.  So Elle and I didn't
want him to sell the place either, we just wanted him to
live with us.  The thought of selling the house didn't even
cross our minds, on the contrary we actually thought of
keeping and preserving it.  We would hire somebody to come
in once a week to check the place out, and then we'd use the
place as a vacation spot every summer or during Christmas,
depending on what we'd feel like.  I actually love the east
coast, so wouldn't have minded doing just that, or hell even
moving there.  But Elle was really against the latter.

     I had just gotten a promotion, and with it a
significant raise.  Close to six figures... if you rounded
up.  Elle was very happy about that, but I was willing to
give it up for her dad.  I tried convincing her that I
wouldn't have trouble getting a job in the east coast, and
not only would we be closer to her dad, but we'd be moving
into a smaller town which I thought would be a better
environment for the kids.  But Elle's stubborn.  As stubborn
as her dad really, but she adamantly denies it.  She
apparently didn't want to leave her restaurant either which
she co-owns with her college best friend.  Owning a
restaurant had been her dream, and she was ecstatic when it
opened ten years ago, and is happy that it had lasted so
long.  She refused to give up the fruits of her hard work,
even for her father.  Not that that should be taken
negatively.  Her best friend and business partner,
Gabriella, was quite fine with the arrangement.  Especially
since most of the work Elle needed to do could be done from
the comfort of her father's home.  At least as long as she
had internet access and a fax machine.

     When I brought up moving the family closer to him,
Jimmy got pretty pissed off and started raving and ranting
about the irresponsibility of it, and how it's foolish to
abandon the fruits of our labour for a sickly old man.  He
didn't want to live with us and he didn't want us to live
with him.  It was a frustrating impasse, but Elle refused to
abandon him too.  She wanted to stay with Jimmy for half a
year to help him with everything he needs while the rest of
us stayed in the west.  But Jimmy argued his way down to
just two months.

     The only reason Elle relented for a shorter span of
time was because apparently Jimmy faked a heart attack.  He
just started gasping for air, clutching his chest, and
moaning out load in the most feeble voice he could manage
before "collapsing" on the floor.  After my wife was
appropriately frightened (see: scared shitless and was
hysterically calling for an ambulance), he miraculously got
better.  He threatened to do that enough to make her life a
living hell that she finally relented.  He loved us, and we
loved him.  Doesn't change the fact that he's an asshole.
That was how, after lengthy discussions (i.e. arguments),
Elle ended up staying with him for two months.  Then he'd be
coming down for Christmas shortly after, and Elle would come
back home for two more months, before heading back out there
again for another two.  It would be a continuous cycle of
two months here and two months there.  We didn't spare any
expense for his care and hired a live in nurse to take care
of him, and a (very expensive, at least I thought so) maid
to help with the upkeep.

     A few weeks before Elle left for her father's, the two
of us decided to hire a live-in nanny to help take care of
the kids.  In fact it was she who insisted on it, especially
after my promotion and with her having to go to the other
side of the country for two months every two months of the
year.  We went through a throng of applicants, many of whom
Elle, I swear it, turned down at first sight.  Many she
believed didn't have enough of the proper qualifications to
take care of children.  Some she just treated with unusually
obstinate suspicion (and they all happened to be blonde and
buxom).  Only two did she consider.

     One was a very experienced and charismatic, who was
getting on in years, East Asian woman who had experience not
only as a nanny, but as a live-in caretaker, had a Nursing
degree (with considerable experience), was an experienced
cook, and could speak four different languages, including
French.

     The other was Steve.

     My eyes almost jumped out of their sockets when Steve
walked in through the door.

     Steve had just finished his Bachelor's degree in
Developmental and Child Psychology from one of the city's
prominent universities.  He was taking a year off for a
break in his studies to just work before starting on the
Master's program.  He was first aid certified, had his own
car (which he was willing to child proof), and was the
middle child of seven kids and therefore apparently knew how
to handle young boys, including how to cook and clean.  He
had exceptional references, emphasized that he had the
stamina to keep up with hyperactive children, and
practically begged for the experience to work with our kids.
That and apparently he needed a place to stay in, and with
the live-in perks that came with the job, he really wanted
it.

     At least that's what it was on the surface.  That is to
say that's what he said in front of my wife.

     Steve is tall, and he is quite fit.  He's 6'2" and
about 190 lbs, and was ripped like a marine.  He had a
hairless chest, except for a treasure trail that ran down
his navel to his crotch.  He liked to wind his arms all the
way around you when he's kissing you, hugging you tight,
grinding his crotch to yours.  His cock was about seven
inches long, uncut, and had a deep red cock head when fully
aroused.  He trims his pubic hair, but doesn't shave.  He
loved to give head and eat cum, and loved cum swapping even
more.  He was versatile, he loved to get fucked as much as
he loved to fuck.  He had amazing muscular legs, and had the
best balance of salty-sweet pre cum that just oozes out of
his cock tip.  He likes to suck on nipples and lick arm
pits, he liked to get rimmed, and just loved sex in general.

     I should know, I've had first hand experience with him.

     I had told him, you see.  I had told him about the
possibility that my family might move, that my wife was
going to be leaving for a few months during the year
instead, and then how we were looking for a nanny for the
kids.  Actually it was more me bitching about the nanny-
interview process.  He was just a casual fuck buddy, my de-
stress buddy.  We had met at a gym downtown some years back
when he was still an undergrad, and I was just curious.  It
took years before we were finally able to build something up
past the point of amicable camaraderie, became comfortable
enough to go beyond the occasional chat and spotting in the
gym, to hanging out outside, to going back to a motel to
explore each other for the first time, to going to his
apartment a few times a month to fuck, then more, then once
a week.

     Those years were a nasty time for me.  I was wracked
with guilt and shame, and confusion.  I was at my most
selfish, even now, and at my most callous.  It was the point
in my life that I had decided to live different lives in one
lifetime, intent on my own happiness and satisfaction.  It
just involved a happy family with a loving wife, and a male
lover on the side.  The selfish desire to keep both
overwhelmed my good sense.  My libido made my decisions as
much as my head.

     After his interview I had met up with him later on in
his apartment and the two of us argued heatedly.  I was
furious that he would show himself in front of my family.
He had his own arguments that justified what he had done,
which just brought around more arguments from me until we
had ended up screaming and threatening each other for a few
hours in his apartment.  That evening, things ended up with
him fucking me for the first time.

     I remember it vividly.

     I was still at his apartment when Elle called.  Steve
had stalked off to the bathroom to try and cool off, leaving
me glowering at nothing in particular in his bedroom.  I
talked to Elle.  She was asking where I was.  I told her a
lie.  We chatted about things that I could no longer
remember.  What I could remember was Steve's hands coming
from behind him, winding around my body.  I could remember
letting him pull me into his embrace, my back to his chest.
I remember his strong hands pressed tight on my body, moving
slowly, searching, unbuttoning, moving under cloth, touching
skin... stroking.  I remember my wife's voice on the phone,
talking, me clearing my throat, working not to moan, then
muttering some sort of assent.  I remember Steve breathing
on my neck, his pelvis thrusting forward, his crotch
grinding into my ass, and me pushing my ass back to meet his
thrusts.  I remembered feeling the hardness of his crotch
through the cloth, his warm hands caressing my skin, his
tongue licking my neck.

     My wife was talking about the kids, I was working hard
not to make any sexually gratified sounds, now and then
murmuring half-responses and assents, asking questions about
the kids and about her.  I don't know how it had happened
but the next thing I remembered was becoming completely
undressed except for my socks, lying on my stomach on his
bed, my wife laughing on the phone that I held in my ears.
I feigned laughter in turn while Steve stuck a tongue into
my ass along with a finger.  I remember something cool being
spread onto my ass, more fingers going into me, stretching
me, me biting down on the bed covers, covering the mouth
piece of the phone, while my wife chatted about Marc, my
beautiful son Marc.  I had said his name, I remember my wife
saying 'yes' and repeating his name, and I remember Steve
leaning down on my back to whisper in my ear, "thinking
about your boy daddy?  Thinking about Marc?", while he
thrusts more fingers into my ass.

     I had said yes.  At that time I didn't know why I said
yes.  Or did I?  I really was thinking about Marc.  But not
in a sexual way, at least I didn't think so.  But the heat
that radiated from Steve, his scent, his weight on my back,
new thoughts began to cross my mind, images of Steve, of me,
of my son Marc, sometimes of just my son and me, and at
times just my son, naked as the day we were born.  I began
to wonder about the feel of skin on skin, of scent, of heat.

     "Daddy ready to get fucked?"  Steve had breathed into
my other ear, while my wife was telling me about her day
into the other.

     I knew what was coming then, so I bit down on the
pillow, taking as much of it into my mouth, as Steve thrust
in.  I heard my wife laughing.  I held on tight, covering,
the receiver on the phone, hoping that Elle couldn't hear my
grunts and moans at the first thrust.  Hoping that she
didn't hear Steve say "fuck" and "tight" at the first
thrust.  That painful first thrust.  But he was gentle.  He
had taken his time stretching me first, and now took his
time letting me adjust.  I could feel all of him inside of
me.  I could feel his cock twitching.  He had wound his arms
under my armpits, across my chest, and clutched onto my
shoulders, his chest pressing down on my back, his mouth
nibbling my ear, his cock resting inside me, still
twitching.

     Elle said that she had to go, said something about me
coming home soon, something about dinner, then a goodbye
which I returned.  Then I hung up.  Then came a long thrust.
Of a cock moving out of my ass then abruptly being plunged
back in.  At that the pillow left my mouth and I moaned out
load, said an expletive.  Steve clutched me tighter, his
chest pressing down on my back, his hands wound around my
body, holding my shoulders, his legs on either side of mine,
and his pelvis thrusting his cock in and out of my ass.
With each thrust I cried out, a mingle of pain and pleasure,
and as time passed, increasingly pleasure.

    I began to plead, eventually.  Crying out for Steve to
fuck me harder, and faster, and deeper, crying out for more
of him inside of me.  The feeling was incredible, his cock
kept on touching something inside of me that shot darts of
pleasure from the pit of my stomach and outward towards the
rest of my body.

     My mind raced, my moans became louder, sometimes
pitched higher, my body occasionally shuddered, my hands
reaching back for his head, his hair, his mouth.  I felt his
tongue on my neck, felt his teeth, his lips, then on my jaw,
and then on my own lips, his tongue darting in between
touching my own tongue.  He kissed me passionately, and I
returned the passion lustfully, my tongue wrestling with
his.  He kept on thrusting while I kept on pushing my ass
back.  Our torsos began to rise from the bed, his fucking
and my ass backing up to meet his thrusts moved us up until
we were kneeling on the bed, him still clutching me and
fucking, our mouths still connected.

     "Fuck me." I breathed.  "Fuck me Steve, oh fuck.  Fuck
me harder, please."

     "Ever thought of your kids Joe?  Ever thought of them
while we're fucking, cause I do."  He began to say.

     I should have been shocked.  But at that moment, in
that moment, of ecstasy and overwhelming lust, I merely said
yes.  And I had meant it.  At that moment I only wanted his
cock to pump faster and harder into me, to continue feeling
his warm skin pressed on mine, for the firm pressure of his
arms wound tight around me to last forever.  His voice in my
ear and what he said, surprisingly added to the eroticism of
the moment.

     "When I get the job, you know what I'm going to do?
I'm going to feed your kids my cum.  What do you think about
that?  I'm going to let Kurt taste my load.  He's too young
and too small to do anything other than let him eat my load,
but he'd like that I think.  It'll be like milk.  Just from
me.  Maybe he could even just lick my cock head a few times,
his mouth is probably too small to suck me.  You would
watch.  Watch as I feed your son my load.  What do you
think?"  He said that last with a fiercer thrust, a harder
fuck, a longer and deeper plunge.

     All I could do was moan.  I saw the image in my mind,
saw what he had described clearly.  Imagined Steve pouring
down a thick load of cum down my son's open and willing
mouth, and then I came.  I came hard, as much as I had ever
had.  Thinking of Steve.  Thinking of Marc.  Thinking of
Kurt.  Even thinking of Paul.  My sons.

     I thought I heard Steve say something along the lines
of "fuck, daddy likes that" before his thrusting became
fiercer and shorter.  Then I felt him shudder and cum, his
load filling my ass.  I could feel a warm sensation spread
inside my ass, could feel liquid trickling out my ass and
down my thigh.  Steve still kept on thrusting, slowly, and
seemingly meaningfully.  I collapsed onto the bed while
Steve collapsed on top of me.

    I muttered an obscenity.

    Steve repeated said obscenity.

     We both laughed.

     Mine was half hearted.  My mind still revelled in post
sex glow, but my critical thinking was slowly coming back to
me, and the memories of what I had done with my wife on the
phone, with what I had gotten off to, what Steve had said,
slowly trickled down into my consciousness.  I didn't know
what to say.  Steve apparently did.

     "You came when I started talking about feeding your
youngest kid my cum.  You're kinkier than I thought Joe."
He laughed in my neck.  I felt his whole body shudder.  His
cum continued to leak out of my ass.

     "Don't."  Was all I said.

     He just laughed.

     "You don't sound very convincing you know."  Even if I
couldn't see his expression, his face buried in my neck, I
knew that he was smiling mischievously.  He nipped at my
skin with his teeth, a playful nip that didn't break the
skin.  "You're wife's gonna hire me.  She loves me.  Just
you wait.  Then I'm going to do it.  Feed Kurt my cum.  The
first time, you're going to do it for me.  You're going to
suck my cock in front of Kurt, then I'll cum in a glass.
You're going to drink some of it, then feed the rest to your
son."

     He shifted, got up, and moved towards the washroom.  He
turned around at the door to look at me laying down on the
bed.  I didn't feel the shock on my face.  I saw him smile
and chuckle before going in.  The shock on my face wasn't
because of what he had said, more so than because I knew
with absolute certainty that that's what was going to
happen.

Questions, Comments, Rants, Raves: azberan@hotmail.com

Thanks for the emails.

P.S. In response to something, no.  The kids were not and
are not drugged.  *End*  But thanks for the email, and hope
you enjoy the rest.  :)