Date: Tue, 27 Dec 2016 19:09:28 -0500
From: Bear Pup <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Karl and Greg 3 - Learning to Speak

Please see original story
(www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/karl-and-greg/karl-and-greg-1) for warnings
and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex
between blood-related men. Go away if any of that is against your local
rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but
flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Skip food-related
paragraphs with (^) at the start. Donate to Nifty **TODAY** at
donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming.

*****

"Some sorta cum volcano blew its lid right in my lap. I hollered and you
dissolved in tears and ran. And. I. Was. Wrong." My head snapped up and I
gaped at him. "I was wrong and I need you to forgive me so I can make up
for lost time. So I can teach you what I shoulda taught you years
ago. Teach you to be a man. More, teach you to your own man. Teach you to
be Greg, my son, my Greg. Whatya say, sport?"

"Yes!" I held enough control not to start leaking snot and tears, but it
was a close run thing. "Yes. I don't have to forgive you cuz I was
the... the one who never... who never asked, never came close,
never... never had the g-guts to... never let you be my PA! I need what you
g-got, and I need it real b-bad, Pa!" He reached forward and grabbed my
shoulder. I saw his face change. Pride, love, anticipation were there for
sure. But underneath was a shadow of what looked like lust, like triumph
and wicked grin as well. "Good then. Let's start."

*****

Karl & Greg 3: Learning to Speak M/M; incest; vocal; nipples; masturbation;
edging; light oral

"Strip."

I honestly think there was Harry Potter thing going cuz I was standing and
naked before I realised I had moved. Pa's grin widened to a smile and he
chuckled. "Stand there facing me. Like I said before, one of the reasons
for our... misunderstanding last night was how quiet and reserved you
were. That ends now. I can't teach and you can't learn if'n we don't know
what each other feel and think and want. You get me, sport?"

"Yes, Pa."

"Good. Step a bit closer. Good. I'm gonna run my hands over you and you
tell me exactly what you feel. Don't stop and don't shut up. Moans groans
and fuck-noises will be a more-advanced lesson." He beamed at me and I
started to smile myself even in the face of crippling jitters. He put his
callused hand on my pecs above my nipple and I sighed. So did he, but more
in exasperation. "I told ya. Tell me what ya FEEL. Every sensation. Every
twitch. Every touch. Talk, son, TALK!"

"I ah feel your calluses um your hand is scratchy and soft and forceful but
not pushing in and and I feel it on my um chest and it tickles the little
hairs. Is this right? Is this what you want, Pa?" He nodded, and ran his
hand a bit lower. I shuddered a sigh and resumed, "When your hand moves so
light like that I get goosebumps. I feel blood coming up and my face and
chest feel all warm. I got tingles. I got... tingles. Sorry. I said
that. Um. I. Um. Ah-Uh-Ah-Uh." A deep gasp, catching two or three times
before my breath was all the way in, shook me as Pa's rough thumb scraped
across my left nipple. I stuttered to speechlessness as he stroked.

A low growl, soft, like a purr, "Whatdaya FEEL, son?"

"I don't' know words. It... it feels... Oh god! Sorry, sorry. It's like a
thousand tiny jolts of static electricity all over my, my... and straight
to my, my crotch..."

"One of the things we're workin on here is vocabulary." His voice was
whiskey and velvet, raw but smooth -- soft, understanding, firm. A lot of
love glowed in that patient voice. Throughout, his thumb never stopped its
inexorable strumming of my nipple. "Every part of ya has a 'proper' name
that you use to doctors and priests and therapists. But each one has a
dozen names that men use in our heads and to each other, and most
importantly to your woman or your lover. Those little shocks are from me
petting one of the most sensitive parts of your body, Greg. Your 'nipples'
or 'nips' or sometimes 'tits' or even 'boobs' have popped up and are
sending signals, yes, to your 'crotch' and your 'penis' and your
'testicles', but most importantly to you cock, your dick, your rod, prod,
fuck-stick, shaft. Your manhood, son. And your nuts, balls, low-hangers,
eggs, cum-factories. Those tiny shocks are running through your sexual
system to its root, HA! Another word for that hard, throbbing slab of meat:
Root! Get on with it."

"Um, you keep rub ru rubbing my n'nip. It... it makes it hard to
breathe. My um, my cock is so hard. So hard. So nice. So
hard. So... hard. Sorry. Your hand is moving across my chest and it makes
me shiver! It's like every hair I've got gets stroked each time you move a
little. Unnnnngh. Um, um. Oh, god! I thought when you got the right one it
would be a repeat of the left but, ungh! It's like the left one lit a fuse
and the right one is the, the, the, oh my god. Oh, Pa. Please keep doing
that. I can feel it to the base of my nuts."

Pa chuckled evilly. "Yeah, son, I get ya. I was never one much for tit
play, but I know lotsa guys and most women love it and a few go nuts from
it. You and Karl got the extreme version straight from your Mom, I tell
ya. You are hard-wired, nips-to-nuts! Oh, yeah. Now look down, son, look
down at your hot prick and tell me what you see."

I took a deep, shaking breath. Pa was doing things that I didn't even know
could happen. I did as he told me. "I see my, um, p'p'prick. It's shiny
and, um, wet and, um, red and wet and beating with my
heart. There's... ungh, a drop of something oozing out. I've felt it but
never seen it before. Oh god that feels so good, Pa!"

"That's 'pre-ejaculate fluid', yeah, quite a mouthful. It's the lube you
make on your own and there are a dozen names for it, but most people call
it pre, pre-cum or cock-snot. My favourite when I was young was to hear it
called dogwater. It sounds so hot and dirty don't you think?" rub, rub,
scrape. "It means you're worked up enough to prime the pump and your dick
is getting desperate for real attention. It also means you're getting a bit
too hot from the tit work, and we're gonna take a short rest break. Step
back, sport, and tell me what you see with your Pa in front of you."

He was right. I was huffing and could feel my nuts churn. It's probably not
possible to cum from just that (mmmm, I thought, oh lord that would be
nice, oh so fucking nice to try!) but part of me was desperate to erupt and
another thought Pa was right and I need to back off. Pa stood and his body
presence pressed me back to the edge of the bed. My eyes had been either
locked to his or rolled back or closed or, occasionally, darting to his
junk but I didn't really LOOK at Pa until he told me to. I took a deep,
shuddering, needy breath and decided that, like housework, I'd start at the
top and work my way down.

"I see my Pa and I've been looking at his eyes. Deep eyes. Liquid
eyes. You've got dark, almost black hair and a little bald spot
starting..."

He laughed, "Hey there ya little squirt!" He must have saw me start to
close down or look abashed cuz he quickly said, "No, son, you're right. I
just forgot I told you to tell me EVERYTHING! You're doing fine, and yeah,
I know that my thatch roof is getting thin. Go on." He chuckled a bit more
as I resumed.

"Um, your ears are covered a bit, but they're small and thick. You'd have a
unibrow if you didn't do something like shave the middle and the brows are
thick and bushy. Your eyes are... are..." I faltered. I plunged on like I
was hypnotised or on some sort of sexual truth serum, "Your eyes look like
they can x-ray my soul. I know you're smiling at that cuz I can see the
edges crinkle. Your eyes are a dark, rich, brown like chocolate and the
lashes are long. Your nose was broken? Maybe? Cuz there's a knot there. You
just shaved, but there's still a shadow from the hairs. You've got full,
strong lips and, I was right, you're smiling and smirking at me. I feel all
blushy, like I shouldn't be saying all this but you told me too and oh, my
god Pa, you make my heart run." My voice trailed away like a stream of
smoke, fading to nothing at the end.

"This is what I asked you to say, son," his voice soft and caring, "Keep
going and I promise you can't go too far. Tell me what you see and what you
feel."

"You, your um shoulders have so much hair on then. I'm so smooth, so
hairless. I feel like a little boy next to you. I'm a foot taller..."

"Hey now, none a that," he chuckled.

"But you still seem to be filling the room. You're the man to my little
boy, Pa. Your... chest is so tight, so strong, so real. And your, um, nips,
um are so hard and erect. Um. And the hair on your chest almost forces a
person to look at the centre, concentrating the hair, the attention, the, I
dunno, the need to focus on the trail down to your. You. Your. Oh my god,
Pa. I can't say it!" I almost wailed, looking at the 14 inch, one-eyed
monster rearing up from a froth of densely-curled hair and looking ready to
bite me... and oh, to be bitten!  "I can't talk about that part of you!
It's soooo big and powerful and so, so, manly. So YOU! Please don't make me
talk about your, your manhood." In reality, humans don't often have 14-inch
cocks; Pa didn't. At that moment, yes, it looked to my sex-addled eyes the
size of a power pole and twice as hard. He was actually big for a real
(non-porn-star) guy, with a hefty 7-inch-plus, relatively thick cock.

"Your huge balls..." actually, his balls were rather enormous for a human,
about the size of ping-pong balls -- baseball-sized orbs are the realm of
rather painful fantasy; how do they ride a bicycle?. They were still
impressive, and thickly-furred like the rest of him. "...slung below your,
your, your thing and pulsing and, um, and leaking... your..."

"Yeah, son, that is the dick that made you. It's the dick and the balls
that shot you into this world. Look at them. Relish them. Think about my
screaming orgasm that ended nine months later with my first, my precious,
son. YOU."

I went into lockjaw as he reached down and began to fondle himself. I knew
that I was supposed to narrate this, but it was so beyond me that I
couldn't even think in words, much less talk in them. He slung his hand
down, down, over the uncut head and I watched it like a hare watches a
one-eyed adder; me frozen, it gradually lifting itself in front of me. The
slithery skin snaked back and the hint of bright pink showed, already
glistening with 'dogwater'. Even as I'd focused, my universe became the
prick that had ejaculate a million potential me's; Pa's eyes had never left
mine. "You like that, don't you son. You like that sparkle off my pre? You
maybe want to taste a bit?"

The moan that erupted from the bottom of my gut was matched with a
knee-collapse worthy of a demolition exhibition. I was down eye-to-'eye' in
seconds. "Go ahead. Just the tip of your tongue. See what I taste like." My
tongue-tip inched forward in some sort of sci-fi slo-mo as I edged toward
that tiny pearly of liquid. A heartbeat and the pearl had grown, the
surface tension just barely enough to keep it from becoming a long, tick,
drool of dogwater. I wasted no time and got that glob onto my tongue. Like
a snake, again, I pulled my tongue back and coated the roof and sides of my
mouth with the viscous, savoury film.

That taste, that masculine, virile, oh-so-Pa taste took me right to the
edge and, if Pa hadn't noticed, would have sent me crashing into orgasm. He
cuffed the side of my head and growled, "None of that now." He grabbed my
arms and drew me back to sitting position on the bed, my impending orgasm
never more than a feather's touch away. His rough paw on my stomach almost
sent me into orbit again, but slowly brought me back from the brink. "Shhh,
now. Calm, boy, calm. We went a long way tonight so easy there. Easy."

My breathing went from shuddering gasps to short pants to actual
inhale-exhale cycles as he crooned to me and stroked my stomach. "Okay,
we'll have one more part of the lesson tonight and pick up again
tomorrow. A moment ago, you were on the edge of explosion," I could hear
the chuckle, unvoiced, in his tone. "There's nothin better than keeping
that edge, that knife's edge of paradise. One thing it does, if you pay
attention, is it lets you find every g-spot on your body. Yep. It's
true. When you are right on the edge, if you are kept there and keep your
head, you can find each spot that will kick up into orbit. You ready,
champ?"

A couple of affirmative grunts were all I could muster. He chuckled again
and said, "Not good enough. I need you verbal for this. You up to it, son?
You ready to do me proud one last time tonight?"

Huff! Chuff! Urg! Groan! HUFF Huff huff "YES! Oh, fuck, sorry, yes, Pa."

"Okay, here's how this works. I am gonna do my damnest to keep you right on
that edge as long as I can. You remember the static-shock thing you had in
your nips when we roughed em a little earlier? Do ya?"

"Yes, Pa. Oh god yeah." My breathing was almost back to normal but his
slowly rubbing hand on my abs, not quite touching the top of my bush, was
beginning to drive me nuts in the best possible way.

"When I get you close, you're gonna feel that in a half-dozen or more
places. You're damn sure gonna feel it in your cockhead, your balls and
(with you) your nips. You might feel it in your earlobes or hairline or
knees or toes or pits or way under your balls. Lots of guys do. The other
one is your asshole. People don't understand just how amazing that little
pucker of wrinkled flesh can feel. Your job, for as long as you can stand
it and I can keep you on edge, is to call -- or even scream -- out every
prickle you get. Ready, champ? Ready to be a real stud and admit where all
your buttons really are?"

I moaned, "Yes, Pa! Please, Pa. I need it so bad Pa and want to learn what
you can teach. PLEASE PA!"

That really sinister chuckle came again and he reached down with one hand
circling my nuts, pulling them away from my shaft. I gasped and I almost
came right there. The other hand gently rubbed the shaft and head of my
(from my perspective) tiny and clit-like penis. His stricture on my nuts,
though, brought the need without the threat of impending
explosion. Actually, no matter how small and insignificant I felt beneath
this stallion of a man, I actually was not some dickless wonder. Based on
my highly-scientific voyeurism in every shower, locker room and urinal
within fifty miles, I was slightly above average at a bit over 6 inches,
with a tight, ruler-straight and streamlined shape. The biggest difference
between us was that, even though we were both uncut, I had what might be
called a 'lace curtain' foreskin; silky, thin, nearly-transparent and
hopelessly sensitive. I could get the gut-wrenching thrill of foreskin play
at the same time as I felt the stroking underneath on the ridge of my
glans, it was that thin.

"Oh my fucking god, sorry Pa! Oh my go... Oh! My nuts and prick are on
fire. You're right, my tits feel like you've plugged them into a socket!"
My breath was in shuddering gasps and pants. "I feel it under my nuts,
right there where the balls come together! And my ass! Oh my go... Oh, Pa,
you were right, I can feel everything a 100 times better. My toes, Pa! My
fu, sorry, TOES! Feet! Pa! My feet! Uh, uh, uh! My, my, my, underarms and
my, um, my, um behind the ears, Pa!

"Oh, god, Pa, sorry! Oh, Pa, I can't. I can't. I just cannnnnnnnnnnnn't."
There may be letter and syllables for what came next. I don't know what
they are and couldn't spell them if I did. Bonus, they were in a register
better suited to bats than humans. Starting with 'sorry', my voice had
simply climbed the scale from my usual tenor up through dog-whistle. My
mind simply... shattered. It was like the mirror in Tommy. My nuts tried to
suck themselves into my cock as every cell tried to explode through my
cockhead at once. All I saw or felt or heard or imagined were a billion
glittering shards. I screamed, tears and spit and sweat and cum pouring out
of me.

I came to -- yes, I really think I'd left the land of the conscious for a
bit -- to a beamingly-proud Pa laughing and saying, "Yes, you're sure a
chip of the old block. That was a cum in a million, stud. Don't move. Don't
even try. After that kinda orgasm, you'd probably kill yourself trying to
get to the can." He must have left and come back, but I swear the next
second he was running a warm, wet, luxurious cloth across the massive load
I'd blown all over myself, the bed and, apparently from his cleanup, the
wall behind me. I think he actually checked the ceiling for traces of my
epochal cumplosion. The room spun and I still hadn't caught my breath.
"Sleep tight, Prince Cumming. We'll pick up there tomorrow." My next
conscious thought was a deep and abiding loathing of my alarm clock's
morning screech.


<eof>


Author's note (so the <eof> lied; sue me): Thanks go out to Mister Shane
for input that really improved the structure of the upcoming stories, and
the focus of each.

P.S. His and other correspondents' Kink Lists *WILL* make an impact on this
and other storylines. Give me your feedback; what turns your crank might be
what makes the story stronger and hotter for everyone.

P.P.S. I have been posting the first few of these frequently. Please don't
expect that in future. I had a number chapters "on the spike" for editing,
wondering if anyone would like what and how I write. I wanted to get
quickly to the sexy parts so I could find out if it's worth continuing. Let
me know your thoughts, please.