Date: Sat, 6 Aug 2016 15:39:27 -0600
From: justwriting@soniq.org
Subject: I Hate Fishing

Author's Note:

This story is told as a fantasy, and I won't tell you that there is any
truth to it. But, as narrator and protagonist, I am not really that
creative. So, you can decide if I made it up or not...

I've gotten a ton of email so far asking me to tell more of my stories, so
let me know if you like this one!

DISCLAIMER:

The following content may contain detailed descriptions of sexual
interactions between a minor and adult. If the laws in your place of
residence or your religious beliefs make it illegal or wrong to read such,
do not continue. If this type of content offends you, do not continue.

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Hey. My name is Dade. I'm 14, and flat out: my parents just got
divorced. Mom says it had nothing to do with me; that my Dad just wasn't
'the right guy' for her - but to be honest, I'm pretty sure it was
completely my fault. See, I'm a pretty normal kid. I play soccer. I live on
my iPhone. I have a good set of buds. The problem? I decided to tell my
parents I was gay. I didn't think it would be a big deal. I mean,
seriously, it's 2015.

But it was a big thing. My mom was pretty cool about it, and occasionally
asks me questions about it. Dad, however, didn't really deal well. He
started to get real quiet around me. He stopped calling me 'sport'. He
generally pulled away from me, and I didn't really get it. I mean, he used
to watch gay tv shows like Will and Grace. He accepted them! I thought
things would be cool. But they weren't.

My mom and dad started fighting about a year ago, 2 months after I told
them. Dad started spending more and more time away from home, and when he
was home, there was never any eye contact. Mom would yell, then he would
yell. Then he would leave. Once I even heard him tell her 'I didn't raise
no fag.'

Then it happened. One day I came home from school and he was gone. Mom
hugged me and told me all about how they were just 'too different' and that
things had been rough for a while. But I knew. He didn't want a gay son,
and that was that.

After the divorce, he cut off all contact. I didn't hear from him for
almost a year, until one day, my mom came home, frustrated. "Dade, your
father is going to pick you up this weekend for a camping trip."

I was shocked. Nothing for over a year, then suddenly a camping trip? "But
Mom, why? He just left, he doesn't want to see me."

She shook her head, making herself busy with the groceries she had broght
in. She wouldn't look at me. "Of course he does, honey. He was just angry
at a lot of things about the marriage, and it took time for him to come
around. Pack up, he's gonnna pick you up tonight."

I was confused, and scared. I didn't know what to expect.

Around 8pm, there was a single long honk outside in the driveway. I
recognized the old Mustang rumble, and I knew it was his. Mom met me at the
foot of the stairs, and gave me a hug. "Dade, give him a chance. I don't
know how this weekend will go, but keep an open mind, ok? I think he's
grown a bit. If anything gets weird, you just call me ok?"

I knew what she meant. It confirmed most of what I thought. He was weird
about the gay thing, and he didn't know how to deal with me. But what
changed? Why now? And camping? We hadn't done that since I won state in
Soccer, like 4 years ago.

I grabbed my backpack of clothes and my iPad, and knocked on the window of
the Mustang. It was old, like from the 80s. It was all boxy and loud.. but
he loved it. I knocked again on the window, and he reached over to the door
and popped up the lock. I got in in silence, and couldn't look over at
him. He backed out of the driveway, and we started our trip. No words were
spoken for about 15 minutes. I pulled out my iPad, and unlocked it. For a
brief moment, the lock screen was showing, and I had a picture of David
Beckham in a famous photo of him making a goal. Apparently that's what he
needed; Dad spoke.

"You still a homo, Dade?" He said, flatly. I blinked, and had no idea what
to say. I mean, yes, I was. But that was harsh.

"I'm still gay, Dad." I said quietly. That's the first thing he was gonna
say to me? This weekend is gonna suck.

Nothing more was said until we got to the cabin. We got out of the car, and
Dad unlocked the front door. I walked in, and he grabbed my arm. "Give me
the iPad." He said.

I looked at him, confused. "No iPad this trip, kid. Only Camping and man
stuff." Dad didn't let go of my arm. I was going to protest, but he wasn't
losening his grip. I handed over the iPad and he pushed me inside. Great.
Now, no iPad, and a homophobic father for the weekend. Did I mention how
much this will suck?

I went to the room I always used when we were there, and shortly after
throwing my bag down, I realized.. I had nothing to do.

I laid in bed, and pulled out my phone. No signal. Without my iPad, I had
nothing. No books, no games, no porn.. oh fuck. My porn! If Dad decides to
look through my iPad, he's gonna see all of it.

Dad had started cooking, and I could hear the familar sounds of the wood
stove he loved to cook on. Coming out of the room, I noted that he was
making all the basics he always did. Beans with bacon, Ham steaks. Sitting
across from him at the table, we still didn't talk. Dinner was prepared,
eaten, and cleaned in silence. At around 10, he simply told me to head to
bed. "Fishing tomorrow. Be up early."

I went to bed, and started to cry. He really did hate me. Sleep came
eventually, and morning was there before I knew it. I didn't even change
clothes.

The morning, we headed to the dock in silence. We set up the boat, got to
the 'sweet spot' and fished for almost an hour before anything was said.

"School ok?" He asked.

"Yeah, no complaints. 3.8 GPA." I said, as basic as I could.

"Any plans for college?" I thought that was weird, but I answered, "Yeah,
likely nursing."

Dad sighed, and flicked the fishing Rod. Clearly that was not the right
answer. But it was what I loved. I am a good person, and I think kelping
people is what I want to do. He took another beer out of his cooler (number
3 by now), and popped the top. After a big swig, he sighed again, and drank
the rest in a few gulps.

"Look, dude." He said. "I don't like this faggot stuff. Why can't you just
find a girl?"

I blinked, and looked down at my feet. I didn't know what to say.

He waited, looking out at the water, and pulled in the rod. "Fish aren't
biting. This was a bad idea. I'm gonna take us back in."

We got back to the cabin, and I headed right for my room. I heard dad open
the fridge, and open another beer. He was up to 5 by now.

After a couple moments, my door opened. "Dade," he was slurring.  "Dade.
You sure you're a homo? I mean, ain't you tried to fuck a chick just once?"

He was drunk. I was really weirded out, and slightly mad. Everyone in my
life has acepted me, except him. Until now, I've been timid, because I
thought he would come around. But he was just being a jerk now.

"Yeah, Dad, still a homo. I like guys. I jerk off to dicks and guys. Girls
are disgusting." I was being deliberate and defiant. He took a step back,
and looked shocked. "Can't change that, Dad. I'm gonna date guys, and
someday, I'm gonna fuck them."

He looked at me with a fire in his eyes. I didn't know what to say after
that, I had never talked to him that way. He stumbled a little, backing out
of the bedroom. I slammed the door behind him and threw myself on the
bed. Why can't I just go home?

After an hour of silence, I figured Dad had passed out. He had drank a lot,
and I was getting hungry. We hadn't eaten since the night before. I didn't
want to see him again, but I wanted to get some food. I ventured out of my
room, and down the hall to the living room/kitchen. I saw the back of my
Dad's head sitting on the couch, and I could tell he wasn't passed
out.. But was he.. shirtless?

I crept closer to get a closer look. Wait; was he on my iPad? I could see
the familiar rainbow case on it. What was he.. Oh. My. Gawd. He was swiping
through my porn! Not only my porn.. but my Selfies! I could see it clear as
day.. pictures I had taken for guys online... he was looking through them
all.

I gasped a bit when I realized what he was doing; it was enough to make him
turn around. When he saw me there, he jumped up. I ran back to my room and
slammed the door. He shouted at me to get back in the living room, but I
was mortified.

"Dade, you little faggot! You're taking pictures of yourself like some
whore!! Get back in here right NOW!" He screamed, and started for my
room. I locked the door, and put my weight against it. He was still
slurring and mad beyond belief. He punched on the door several times,
shouting at me.

He kept pounding on the door, and I shouted back. I just wanted him to go
away. But he didn't. He got through the door, and the force pushed me back
toward the bed.

"Look you little fuck. I didn't want no faggot son. And I'm not gonna have
some whore smear my name. You want to be a little whore faggot? I'm gonna
teach you what that means!" His eyes were on fire, and he slammed the door
closed. I froze in fear at what was happening. I watched in slow motion as
he grabbed me by the shirt. I stood in a daze as i felt him rip down my
shorts. I didn't make a sound when he pushed me to the bed.

"When I was in the army, we had fuckers like you. They needed to be taught
how to be real men. You're gonna get the same lessons." His hands pulled at
my shorts, and he pushed me down, my face on the bed and my knees slammed
hard against the rough carpet of the floor. I tried to turn my head to look
at him; I couldn't understand what was happening.

He had me on omy knees, and my ass was exposed. For a moment, I thought he
was going to beat me. I snapped out of it for a second, and that's when I
saw it. He had unbuttoned his jeans, and his cock was jutting out like a
sword. It wasn't huge. In fact, I remember it being almost my size, just a
bit thicker. But I was not prepared for what happened next.

"Fuckers like you... " he kept repeating. He pushed against me, and his 6'3
frame and 225 pounds of Dad-body was rough against me. His left hand pushed
at my head, shoving me into the matress, and it was then I knew what was
happening. I started to struggle. I tried to scream. I felt his other hand,
now wet with some spit, pushing into my ass crack. He was trying to finger
me. And I couldnt' stop him.

"Listen you little faggot. This is what you want, so shut up and take it!"
He shoved a finger deep in my ass, and pushed his other hand onto my
throat. I couldn't move, and my screams of pain were being muffled by my
face deep in a matress. "Don't pretend you don't want it. You need straight
dick like mine!"

This was not my father. This was not the man who took me fishing every
year.. This was.. someone dark. This drunk man, this man who served the US
Army for 10 years.. this was a dream.

It was then that he let go. I felt him pull his finger away from my
asshole, and he let go of my neck. I dared not move, and I heard him stand
up. "Faggot, turn around." He commanded.

I didn't move, and paid the price. With a booted foot, he slammed into my
ass, shoving me to the side. I was slammed onto the ground, and he looked
down at me, holding his dick, now fully hard, in his hand.

"Faggot! Get over here and suck this." I looked up at him in shock. He
didn't meet my eyes. Instead, he reached downa and yanked my hair over to
his dick. With his other hand, he slapped my face. The sting caused me to
yelo out in pain - and it was that yelp that gave him the opening. In one
shove, his entire 5 1/2 dick was in my mouth. It was dry, and rough, and I
had never had a dick inside me before. But he didn't care. This stranger,
this army guy only saw me now as a faggot to serve him. "Suck it. Now."

I was in a dream. On the one hand, I was getting a real dick in my mouth. I
was getting to do something that I've been wishing for for years. On the
other hand.. It's my father! A father who is .. treating me like a
whore. Was I a whore? Is this what I deserved?

Without realizing it, I had begun to slurp on his cock. I suppose it was
just natural to do it. "Yeah, see faggot, this is what you all want. Thick
fucking dick in your throat. Get it fucking wet."

He was starting to shove it in and out, and I couldn't help but gag. He
didn't care. In fact, it seemed to make him push harder. I coughed and
spat, and my eyes were full of tears, but he just kept going. He didn't let
go of my hair, and I could feel that he had full control. There was
something about that.. it was.. feeling good. I adjusted a bit, now on my
knees completely, and he put his other hand behind my head. He got quiet,
and I realized that I was doing a good job. I caught a few glances upward
as he used my throat. I had adjusted to his girth, and I was able to take
it more and more, only gagging once in a while. He had his eyes closed, and
his knees started to bend a bit. I knew that look. It was the same look I
had when I would stand in front of my mirror and jerk off. I started to
think about how much he and I were the same. My knees get weak when I get
close too...

Suddenly, he stopped. He pulled his dick away from my now saliva-dripping
mouth, and pushed me to the side. "Faggots don't get to eat my cum. Faggots
get bred."

I froze. I've heard similar words in porn. Bred? He wants to fuck me! I
tried to push my mouth back to his dick, perhaps to convince him. He
slapped me again, and grabbed onto my hair, pulling me to my feet. Finally,
now that we were both standing, he looked at me. My eyes were red and
puffy, my mougth covered in spit and saliva. I'm not sure, but for a
moment, his face softend, and I saw my dad again. Not this stranger trying
to rape my mouth, but my dad. A flicker of concern appeared, and he let go
of his grip on my hair. I felt him reach for my face.

Intinctively I flinched away, afraid he was going to slap me again.. but he
didn't.. instead, he took his fingers and wiped the gooey saliva from my
chin and lips, catching it all in his palm. I sighed in releif, and he
smiled a little.

Then his grin got bigger. And the flicker was gone. He pushed me backward,
and I fell onto the bed. Both of my arms went back to brance my fall, and
my legs flew out. Before I knew it, My father was on top of me. Between my
legs, he used his body to push his shoulders between my knees. I could feel
his stomach grazing against my cock as he got my legs up. It was at that
moment that I realized - I was hard as fuck. His belly pushed against my
junk, and I could feel the rubbing sensation. I looked down and saw that I
was pre-cumming a bit.

Dad stopped, watching me for a second. "See, faggot, it's what you
want. Your own dick is ratting you out. Now relaz your fucking legs."

I felt his hand reach through my legs and the spit he had collected was now
being spread on my ass. He was gonna fuck me, there was no denying it. I
closed my eyes tightly and did my best to prep.

Then... nothing. Dad wasn't moving. I was stuck with my legs on his
shoulders, I could feel his hard dick against me.. but.. nothing. I didn't
know what to do, but I couldn't open my eyes. But I heard it. A hack. A
gurgle. Then felt it. He SPIT on my cock. I jammed my eyes open and watched
as MY father, this stranger, grabbed my dick with his oversized hand and
spread his goo all over. I was OVERWHELMED by the feeling. No one had ever
touched my dick before. I didn't dare move, but my own voice betrayed me. I
let out a sound of pleasure.

"Don't think I'm a faggot, you shit. I'm just getting you to relax." He
jerked on my hard dick a bit, and I couldn't help it. I started to arch,
and push against his grip. He slid up and down a couple more times, and I
felt the best i've ever felt. And then? STEEL SWORD OF PAIN. Dad took the
opportunity. While he was giving me my first and best hand job ever, he had
positioned and shoved all 5.5 inched of his thick cock in my ass. No lube
but spit. No warning. No patience. Full in, full speed.

I screamed. Loud. I punched and scratched and cried and wriggled against
him. But I couldn't get away. He was fully in me, and he had now locked
both arms around my legs. And then, he laughed. He fucking laughed. I was
screaming in pain, and he was laughing.

"Dade, you need to realize, this is what fags get. It's what they like. Big
cock in their ass. Now, SHUT up and relax. I'm not moving until you get
used to it. " He held tight. And he was true to his word. He did not move
ONE bit until I releaxed. I stopped screaming, and my pain started to
fade. He didn't lose an ounce of hardness, and when I finally stopped
writhing, he started to pump. And Pump.

Dad pulled his cock in and out of my ass, and I could feel it get easier
each time. "There it is. Let me finish."

He pumped faster, and harder, and kept putting more and more pressure on my
knees, until he was pounding me, with my knees to my chest. It was at that
point, I could feel his body rubbing on my own cock. I started to
understand why people liked this. OMG.. I was getting close! I could feel
it bubbling up.

And he knew. "Come on, faggot. You know it feels good. Fucking blow. Let me
breed that hole." It was a whole new sensation. His words were like logs on
the fire. It set me off. My teen cock exploded. I shot spurts of jizz
between us, and Dad's thrusts just kept it going. He grabbed my sholders,
and started to pound me like a hammer. His grunting got stronger, and with
a yell, he slammed one more time into me. I felt his cock pulse, and I knew
he was unloading, deep inside me.

He pulled out as quick as he slammed in, and walked out of my room, his
dick still sticking out of his jeans. He left me laying there, and I heard
the kitchen sink running. I got my clothes back on, and stood up. Did this
actually happen?!

I walked out to the living room, and my Dad was sitting there, beer in
hand, dressed and casual. He held out my iPad, and notioned me over to
him. I reached out and grabbed for it, but he pulled it back. "This never
happened, you got it?" He said. I nodded, and he handed me the iPad. Ok. It
never happened.

Later that day, he took me to dinner. For the first time in the trip, he
engaged me in real conversation. We talked about sports, and his life now
that he was single, and we continued the conversation about where I plan to
go to college. For the first time in a year, I felt like he was my dad
again. It all went back to some level of normal.

It was my first time with a man. I don't know why that day changed us, but
it did. And we never talked about it. I went to college. I had
boyfriends. I had relationships. I even got married. Dad was at the
wedding. To this day, I can't get fucked without my husband pulling my
hair.



Feedback and such to justwriting@soniq.org.