Date: Sat, 7 Jan 2017 18:00:37 -0500
From: Bear Pup <orson.cadell@gmail.com>
Subject: Karl and Greg: Karl and Greg 8

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.

*****

I was in something of a haze as Pa gently washed me all over, then patted
me dry with a giant, fluffy towel. He then scooped me up and carried me to
his bed. I started to come back to myself as I felt his hand once again
circle my balls and pull them gentle but irresistibly away from the
shaft. His other hand again whipped the thick, stiff-silk ribbon around the
base of my scrotum. My cock, already thick, went straight through hard to
diamond, knowing that another epical cum was coming. Frankly, after the one
earlier today, I wasn't really sure how I'd be able to perform, but I was
up for anything, ANYTHING that Pa wanted to try, and I'd just do my best to
keep... up.

***** Karl & Greg 8: The Tongue / Mid Term Exam by Bear Pup M/M; Incest;
light bondage; kissing; licking; teasing; musk; pits; intense edging; oral;
rimming; role-reversal

"Stud, we covered the basics already, so we'll start on advanced
studies. Pay attention; there WILL be a test tomorrow when I get home," Pa
said with an evil chuckle mixed in. "You know what rimming is like and ball
play and getting a hand job. Tonight we focus on one very overlooked sexual
organ..." He dropped half on top of me and seized me in a ferocious
kiss. He pulled back up just enough to say, "... the tongue."

He chewed a bit on my lower lip, then slid his tongue over each lip, first
the outer edge, then the inner, then parting them to start on the inside. I
moaned and Pa used the opportunity to get his tongue well into my
mouth. When he'd rimmed me, it made me want to get fucked. This kiss,
though, this was GETTING fucked, just from the other end. His thick and
agile tongue claimed my mouth and throat, exploring and marking his
territory, finding every spot he could to tease and test.

It took a minute of ecstasy before I could reciprocate. My arms flew around
his neck and pulled his face so hard into mine that I probably bruised my
own lips. My tongue (and my mind) went wild, trying to both caress and
battle Pa's longer, thicker and much more experienced one. I'd dart
occasionally into him mouth as well, but somehow knew that it was my place
to be penetrated, taken, owned, not to penetrate, take or own Pa. This
could not have been a conscious thought for two good reasons: first, the
fact that I was being taken didn't dawn on me until much later that week;
second, I don't think I HAD any conscious thoughts -- I was in a primordial
haze of passion.

Pa's hands weren't out of the action, either. They roamed over my chest and
sides. Once again, he used that butterfly-touch that inflamed my nerves but
never actually touched my skin. Wherever his hands went, my body would try
and reach out to force a strong, solid pressure; he was a master in
anticipating and preventing that contact.

I was groaning pretty steadily by that point and had a death-grip on my
Pa's neck and head, never wanting the kiss to end. His hands left my side
and each took one of my own. He pried them away and grasped each wrist, as
he pulled back from my face. I was panting and moaning in lust. "You are
taking a bit too much control, 'young gwasshoppah; mastah hass much yet to
teach shtudent'," another leering chuckle. I could do nothing but pant as I
started avidly into his face.

He reached to the nightstand and grabbed another couple of lengths of the
ribbon. My face must have shown my confusion and probably some
concern. "No, I'm not going to tie you up, stud, that's part of the
graduate course of study {evil chuckle}. But you need to have something to
remind you to keep your hands away and enjoy what's being done without
thinking of driving, or even navigating, on this trip."

Pa looped the ribbon several times around my left thumb, then threaded the
ribbon back under itself. He then pulled my arm up and tied a similar
winding around a slat in the bedstead next to my head, resting the hand
comfortably against the pillow. I'd seen Pa cut and even tooth-rip the
ribbon before and knew that a really good pull would likely snap it. He was
not securing me; he was giving me a physical and visceral reminder of where
my hand should stay. He repeated the process with my right hand, then went
to work on that very appendage.

I gasped as Pa worked his tongue between each finger and forcefully licked
the palm, basically Frenching my hand. He worked his way down my arm, the
untouched skin begging for his tongue and the skin he'd just left
goosebumping as the spit-wet hide was exposed to the air. He reached my
elbow and spent a moment there, apparently testing whether there might be
yet another g-spot hidden in the fold. When he got to my armpit, though, I
was immediately hating and grateful for the ribbon bindings. Everything in
my body wanted to pull the arm down and push Pa's face deeper into that
sensitive valley. Even my lust-drunk mind knew that doing so would ruin the
very sensations that I desperately wanted more of.

Pa moved on along my side and I begged loudly and desperately for him to
take my nipple. Instead, he pulled back and smiled at me. "You may be the
main course, but you're not the chef tonight." He reached down and grabbed
a jock strap from the nightstand. Since I did the laundry, I knew that he'd
stored it there himself, likely for this very purpose, whatever that might
be. My eyes widened as he pushed it into my open mouth. That's when the
second shock rocked my body; the jock was wet with his sweat and musk. I
moaned more deeply than ever and began to suckle the stretchy cloth. Not
only was this a highly-effective gag, it sent waves of lust through me with
each taste of MAN that I could suck from it.

I lost track of Pa's probing tongue for a moment as I savoured the
extraordinary musk from the jock strap. I was snapped back so suddenly that
I bit deeply into the cloth when he reached my hip and licked languidly
toward my quivering and throbbing boner. He swerved to lick down alongside
my scrotum, a most-exquisite sensation in such an unexpected place. He went
on to twirl my nuts, but quickly moved back to the juncture on the side. My
vocalisations went up in pitch, then up again as he licked the far side,
this time rasping his stubbled chin across my over-sensitised and wet
scrotum. I had just started to thrust and shake when Pa sat back suddenly.

"We'll let you cool off for a minute, there, sport. We don't want another
dry-cum-seizure!" He walked to the door to the bathroom and I started to
pull my hands to my aching, desperate crotch when the tug on my thumbs
reminded me that I was not in charge of this. I screamed a couple of
obscenities into the jock-gag which only worked the stretchy cloth to a
different angle, bringing fresh musk to my taste-buds and nostrils.  Lost
in those scents and tastes, I nearly came off the bed and screamed when a
very wet, very COLD washcloth draped across the red-hot poker my dick had
become.

I goggled and gabbled at Pa who firmly, very-much-not erotically rubbed the
terrycloth across the skin of my prick until it had lost some of its
rigidity. My balls continued to churn, but the near-cum was averted. Pa
then went back to his job, moving his lips back to my balls, then retraced
his route back to my hip. His journey continued down my leg, taking special
attention at the knee then ankle. Suddenly, Pa's tongue was back to making
love to my foot, what had triggered my final explosion last night. His
agile and twisting tongue once again brought me to the brink, and maybe a
bit beyond.

I was already squealing and crying into the jock-gag when that fucking evil
cold towel hit my dick again. I honestly hated that towel more than
anything in the universe at that moment. I finally had to stop screaming
into the gag because I'd run out of air in my lungs and was actually
getting light-headed before I drew breath again. As much as I loved what Pa
was doing, as much as he was my God, the look I gave him would have
shrivelled a mere mortal. All he did was laugh. Okay, the laugh was a close
second to the monstrous towel in the things-I-hated list. Then Pa went back
into the instep, licking and nibbling. My cock, so recently tamed by the
Ice Monster returned to full vigour.

I was a moaning, mindless mess when Pa finally moved north again, up the
inside of my calf. When he got to my inner thigh, the licking was augmented
again with nips of teeth and side-to-side rasp of stubble. When he got to
my fork, he simply blew air across my balls. This brought my whole body
into a rigid arch as I struggled (and failed) to master the sensations. I
crashed back, however, when that satanic fucking towel once again froze my
prick and my body did everything it could to escape its touch. AAGGHH! What
had he done? Brought in a bowl of ice water just to torture me with?!? Yes,
as I found out later.

The lick-nibble-probe down my other thigh started a left-handed repeat of
my right-side journey. The Dread Ice Towel From Fucking Hell made
additional appearances when he reached my foot (again) and my
underarm. Finishing with the tip of my left hand's pinkie, Pa looked at me
with that leering smile, then dove into my chest, licking, biting, tonguing
and twisting my nipples without pause or mercy. Thank God (thank PA) for
that jock-gag; otherwise rescue crews would be converging on what they'd
have assumed was a mass murder in progress. The only pause in my squeals,
screams and cries were for inhalations, each of which manifested as a groan
and gasp as I sucked in more of the aphrodisiacal musk, sending what was
left of my brain into orbit. The sounds went up in pitch to the point that
bats flew into each other when That Pa-Damned Fucking Towel iced me down
again.

Finally Pa pulled off and sat back. My body was twitching and writhing. My
hands had white-knuckle grips on the bedsteads, knowing that the ribbons
would have been shredded had I not grabbed hold. My chest rose and fell in
desperate heaves and my pulse had the staccato rhythm of automatic weapons
fire. He sat and waited whilst I calmed down a bit. I can only imagine how
I looked. The pillow was wet with my sweat, above, and tears, below. My
eyes were undoubtedly red and wild with need and lust and adoration.

Pa reached down and removed the jock from my mouth. I mourned it like a
lost friend, its comforting stench and musk had sustained me through
repeated attacks from the Icy Towel of Death. Pa gently moved in for what I
thought was a kiss but started off as a wetting of my gag-dried lips. When
my lips had returned to their supple selves, he went back in for another
soul-wrenching kissing session that again left me panting. My face tried
eagerly to follow when he pulled back, and our eyes remained locked.

"Okay, sport, I think this lesson is damned near complete. You were taking
a lot of notes, right? I wasn't kidding about the test tomorrow." I nodded
like a bobble-head in a dune buggy and Pa again smiled. Then let's hit the
final lesson for the day, shall we, stud?"

Without waiting for an answer, he put that fucking amazing gag back into my
mouth, I welcomed it back with great affection and revelled in the new
surfaces I could probe and rinse with my tongue. It took only seconds for
me to realise WHY Pa decided that I needed it back. His breath warmed my
cock for mere moments before he dove down onto my dick. Oy vey, again with
the inchoate screaming.

Pa didn't just suck me; he provided a master class on oral
satisfaction. His tongue dove into my foreskin and laved my helmet-ring
until I couldn't stand it, then deep-throated me for one, two, three
strokes. He then started back to licking my shaft whilst his stubbly chin
scratched and teased my balls and taint. This went on for several
birth-death-reincarnation cycles. I was so far beyond reason I couldn't see
it with a telescope when Pa finally took me deep into his gullet and began
to swallow over and over and over.

Maybe ten seconds of that treatment and I felt his hand move. If he came
back with that fucking ice towel, I knew that I would die, and not
happily. I was already plotting on how to haunt Pa to the end of his days
when I felt something cold but steely, and this time against my sac. It was
the scissors come to rescue my imprisoned nuts. Pa growled around my
dick-head lodged deep in his throat, sending new shivers throughout my body
and soul as I heard that blessed SNIP! And my nuts sprang back to my shaft
and I blew the load of a lifetime. The constant excitation/ice cycle and
unendurable sensations sent me to a new plane.

Pa had pulled off my cock as he snipped that ribbon, and I felt something
chilly against my pubic bush and he aimed my exploding cock
at... something. I couldn't care. All I knew is that I was having an orgasm
in places where I didn't even know that I had nerves. My cheek bones were
cumming. My knees were spooging. My shoulder blades and ankles and knuckles
were shooting this load. It was like nothing I'd ever imagined, and it was
all inside me, and all thanks to Pa.

I think that I did notice that there was no massive rain of cum this
time. When I'd cum previously, I'd painted the bed, the wall and even (at
least from one shot yesterday) the ceiling with my offering. I was coming
as hard as any of those, but Pa was somehow catching it. As I descended
from my orgasmic high, I could feel Pa snipping the ribbons that
oh-so-lightly bound my thumbs to the bedstead. I wouldn't have moved, COULD
NOT have moved, to save my soul. All I could do was shake and spasm and try
desperately to breathe again.

Pa's arm snuck beneath my shoulders as I continued to have aftershocks,
spurting tiny little cum-bombs onto my pubes. "I don't drink cum, son, but
you need to learn about it." He pulled the jock-gag from my mouth
again. "This is yours and, fuck, stud, there is a load of it. If I didn't
know you'd come three times in the last 24, I'da swore you'd been chaste
for a month!"

I basked in that affirmation. Not only did I have some of the greatest
orgasms of my life, I'd actually impressed my Pa! The world could have
ended and all I'd have thought of was the regret I couldn't take that
magical jock-gag to heaven with me.

Pa brought me to a sitting position and handed me a shot glass. It was full
to overflowing with thick, white liquid. I looked down and saw that there
was a significant puddle around my pubes; apparently, I'd not only filled
the shot glass but gone on to leave a sizeable deposit afterwards.

"In the future, you'll be drinking mine and that of other lovers that you
might take. But you need to get used to the taste. Drink it for me,
stud. Drink your little baby-makers. Drink your cum for your Pa."

I didn't hesitate. I locked eyes with Pa and remembered the Armagnac from
yesterday... "Sip first, taste it, then swallow. Breathe in once, then
shoot the rest? That's right, isn't it Pa?"

He gave a deep and appreciative belly laugh and said, "Son, you are a
fucking marvel."

I sipped and cherished the taste. Not strong, but a bit salty and
smooth. The texture intrigued me and I knew this was a libation I would
work to get throughout the rest of my life. I smiled and shot the rest,
chugging it and happy with the smile that Pa bestowed upon me. With that,
every bill that my body had been presenting came due at once, and I was out
cold before the shot glass reached my chest.

I awoke to that blissful feeling of Pa's chest against my back. Again, a
perfect night's sleep and awake before the alarm went off. I was a new man,
and it was all due to Pa teaching me to become that new man. I managed to
insinuate myself out of Pa's embrace without waking him. I ran to my room
and silenced the alarm that would have begun bleating at me in less than
ten minutes, then took care of urgent business in my bathroom.

^ I skipped (yes, skipped; go laugh amongst yourselves) down to the kitchen
and surveyed what I had to make a breakfast. After the more-adventurous
options of the last few days, I decided to stick close to
tried-and-true. Instead of fried eggs and toast, it would be holes-in-one;
instead of Canadian bacon, it would be crisped prosciutto; instead of
over-sweetened sludge... well, let's stick with that one. Pa loves it like
the nectar of life.

^ Lunch was quick and simple. More prosciutto and some other cured meats
I'd gotten at the Italian deli when planning the "special" dinner but not
actually used, along with a garlic/olive/almond pesto on some of that
focaccia. The truck-standard tomato soup, with some pasta and red chili
added to spice it up, and the obligatory Diet Coke. A thermos of Pa's
favoured sludge, except sweetened with milk chocolate to make a mocha,
rounded out the ensemble.

With the unerring accuracy of a true food hound, Pa stumbled in a few
minutes later just as the holes-in-one had reached perfection. Today, there
was no askance looks or suspicious glares; instead, Pa launched into the
meal with gusto and a lot of praise, each word of which was prized beyond
rubies by your truly. Any hint of praise set me afire jut and any clue to
disappointment would have sent me to the depths of depression. Pa had truly
become my everything. He left a few minutes later with, OMG!!!, and actual
kiss on my cheek.

I floated to my Monday classes. Unlike the previous week, though, I was not
the clubbed-bunny zombie but the very soul of studentry. All of my teachers
liked me; I had always been studious and diligent, and delivered
star-quality results on papers and exams. But I had never, like today, been
utterly engaged in each lesson. I linked concepts from across the
curriculum and every single instructor was impressed. Fellow students? Eh,
not so much, but they could tell that the teachers were going easy on them
in response to my work, so they joined the appreciation parade. I felt like
a new man, a hero, a STUD -- and it showed. My last-period tennis practice
had my coaches scowling. Where had this seriously-inspired player sprung
from? Their queries and careful praise were not relevant; my God, my
universe, my PA was the only one whose opinion I cared about and tennis was
simply not a challenge any more.

^ I made it home quickly after practice, swinging by butcher and a baker
(sadly, no candlestick maker), and the greengrocer on the corner. Tonight
would not be fancy or particularly inspired, but should be something Pa
would love. Whilst I got the rest of the stuff together, the flank steak
was marinating in lime and garlic and some black beans (canned, sadly) were
cooking into rice in the oven, soon to become Moros (it has a longer name
to do with Spanish history; I never remember it). When I expected Pa home
in about 15 minutes, I put a short but vicious sear on the steak and set it
under a lid on the cutting board to finish off. The blender turned fresh
herbs, shallots and spices into chimichurri as Pa walked in the door.

I ran out to help him undress and collect his clothes; he beamed at me. His
furry tummy gave a ferocious growl, "That smells great. What is it and when
can I get some?" I patted his stomach, "Take the bear upstairs and get
showered. It will be on the table when you're down."

^ Toasting a split baguette was a matter of minutes, and I spread some of
the chimichurri across the bread-planks. I sliced about half the rare steak
across the grain and stacked slices along each bread-boat. A big helping of
the Moros, lime wedges and a small dip-dish of extra chimichurri completed
the plate and it hit the table just as Pa hit the kitchen. I popped the top
off a couple bottles of Brahma that the Butcher had (the inspiration for
everything else) and handed one to Pa as he went past.

^ "Beans? Well, it's your funeral. You're the one gonna be smelling my
farts all night." Pa surveyed the spread. "So is this a sandwich or what?
How do I eat this thing?"

^ "Squeeze some lime over it and cut through so you get some of the steak
and bread." He did and moaned. A forkful of Moros brought a smile.

^ "What's the green shit?"

^ "Chimichurri. It's a sauce with herbs and stuff. It's what's on the
bread. Add it like you'd add steak sauce to a regular steak, a little then
maybe more if you like. You might want just what already there, or you
might really love it." He did, and did. I had to refill his sauce bowl
twice, as well as making a new baguette with more steak and a LOT more
Moros before he finally sat back, sated (at least for food).

"Well, sport, today is mid-terms. You still got a lot to learn, but this is
where we find out if ya have been paying attention so far. Be up in my room
in 10 minutes, no sooner and no later."

I (naturally) set a timer. The dinner mess was gone in moments. Okay, so
now to prepare. Um, how? I thought of the ice-bath bowl for a towel and
pledged I would never do that to ANYONE, ever, especially not Pa. It was
just plain evil. And no gag; I wanted to hear God's, um, Pa's words
throughout. I decided that all I really need was my naked (and very, very
erect) body for the test and headed up the stairs. When I heard the timer
DING! I opened the door.

Pa was lying spread-eagle on the white sheets. He had done something to his
skin; his hair shone a darker auburn than normal and every ridge of his
muscles (and fat, sorry, all the best guys have SOME) flashed in the low
candlelight. Pa had taken the time to light several candles in red and gold
glasses around, and they provided all the illumination for the room. Pa
never looked at me. He never acknowledged that I had entered. He waited for
my adoration. And I was far more than ready to give it.

Pa started with my hands. I thought briefly of copying his every move but
knew this was not what the mid-term exam was about. Instead, I moved to his
left foot and licked, gently stroked with my tongue, his left big toe. I
was rewarded with a gasp and I knew, KNEW, that I'd chosen wisely. I made
love to that foot, every nook, every crag, every crevice. Groans and moans
erupted six feet north as I moved to the ankle, then the shin.

Nothing here was planned. Nothing was the result of study or thought or
intellect; every single movement was instinct and primal NEED. I worked my
way up his leg to his hip, then darted oh-so-briefly to his dick. One lick,
one nibble and I was gone, back to the hip and the incredibly sensitive
flesh of his love handle. This was nipping territory; licking was a distant
second.  Pa writhed and moaned and my ego exploded. I was a KING giving
cult to my GOD.

When I reached the armpit, I took my own sweet time. Every hair had to be
examined with tongue and tooth. Every goosebump had to be savoured. Pa's
moans had gone up and octave, and I mentally chalked up one of my
bucket-list goals. Pa was really getting into something that I, GREG, had
done to/with/for him.

I'll admit that I gave the arm and hand short shrift; he never focused on
it when he was training me and never seemed to flinch when I worked those
nerves. If he was disappointed, so be it; I was onto the trail of a much
more elusive and wonderful prey -- Pa's lips.

Shoulder surrendered to neck (which got some serious attention,) then
earlobes where I spent an inordinate amount of time. Helix, antihelix;
Targus, antitargus; Lobule, fossa.  I literally Frenched Pa's ear,
worshipping every fold, every crease, every surface. His deep and
penetrating growls left no doubt that he like, no loved, the attention I
supplied.

Now I worked some things that Pa had not covered in the lessons, the face
and scalp. Pa had largely concentrated on my lips. I made love to his
jawbone, cheeks, hairline and eyebrows. His tightly-closed eyes got a lot
of special attention; butterfly kisses on the lashes and lid, long strokes
above and along the nose, quick licks on the (dare I say it) bags beneath
them. Pa's brow scrunched when I started, but he had lots of gasps and deep
sighs thereafter, so I thrilled at the thought that Gwasshoppah might have
actually taught something to Master Po.

Once that possible victory was behind me, I decided to try for Pa's
masterwork, kissing. I traced his lips lightly and nibbled on his chin
before planting a chaste kiss directly. I could feel Pa try to kiss back
and I smiled, tight-lipped until he desisted. Only then did I start to lick
between his lips, press against his teeth and explore his mouth. Even with
my faux-dominant position here, I could not resist allowing Pa to take
control of the kiss and tongue-rape my mouth. It felt too good to resist,
too fundamentally RIGHT.

After a very few eternities, I broke the kiss and headed due south. I spent
plenty of time at the Adam's apple, knowing that it was often sensitive but
also knowing Pa had not paid it much attention. This time, there was no
gasp or moan, just a low "get on with it" rumble. His nips, though, were
the next destination, and I worked them hard. One then the other were
nipped and sucked into excitation, only to be left to the cold air and
teasing fingers as the other received the treatment. Yeah, Pa was very,
very into tit play. I left them red and raw, throbbing and begging for
more.

I gave him a moment's respite as I worked back to his collarbone. Slowly,
oh-so-slowly across the clavicle and to the other pit got the reactions
started again, and butterfly licks and soft breaths on hypersensitive hairs
down the right side had Pa pushing and writhing in his attempt to escape or
increase that barely-there pressure, just like I had done when he did the
same to me.

Down the right side of my God's body (attention to hip and thigh), past the
knee and further south (ankle love emphasised) and finally to the foot. A
repeat of the lovemaking where I'd started on the distaff side, making
passionate love to Pa's left foot. I was utterly absorbed, and only came
back when I felt the calf I was holding begin to tremble. I looked up and
saw Pa's dick hard as a rail and leaking like a sieve, the further up to a
face suffused with lust, need and a fierce, burning demand to GET TO THE
POINT!

I took the hint and headed back north, giving plenty of time to the back of
the knee and the nibbles along the inner thigh. I reach the balls and
looked up to see Pa's eyes intent and needy upon my own, commanding me to
take his dick in my mouth and service him. I smiled around my mouthful of
testicle; I had other plans.

After plenty of well-deserved attention to the nuts that made me, I didn't
move up to the shaft but down to the taint. Pa's body went rigid and arched
up as I chewed and licked his durf. The sounds made it utterly clear that
Pa was going wild from this treatment, and I increased my assault on my
perineum.  I waited until those guttural growls and groans gained a full
octave before going for my actual target.

Pa hadn't felt my hands move in his complete focus on what I was doing to
his taint, but I'd planned this and they ended up right behind his
knees. When I was ready (I guarantee you, Pa wasn't), I thrusted both up
and out and dove into the crack of Pa's ass. There was a growl-howl
followed by something I can only call a squeak as my tongue found and
violated his rosebud. I quickly pulled back to lave in and around his
pucker, increasing the pressure, then backing off for wider, longer
strokes. Large arcs were interspersed with tight, hard-tongued circles. I'd
go deep, trying with everything I had to reach his love nut with my tongue
(an obvious impossibility; I'm not Gene Simmons).

Pa was almost overcome with what I was doing to him, and I loved it. I was
determined to ace my mid-term exam; the epic rim was my bid for extra
credit. When I heard his breathing change to forceful huffs, I knew I had
reached what I wanted. With no warning, I released his legs completely and
they dropped like stones. In the same instant, I was on the cock that
squirted me into existence.

I knew that I had Pa on the very edge. I reached down and fist-locked his
nuts away from the shaft, kneading and caressing them and pushing them as
far toward the mattress as they could go. At the same time, I went to town
on the head and stroked the shaft with my fist.  Pa was rocking now, trying
to find a way to face-fuck me without having his nuts ripped from his
body. His eyes were red, bulging, wild and I locked onto mine. I breathed
deeply several times then dove full-tilt down his shaft. Naturally, my very
first time I got his entire huge cock all the way down my throat without a
second thought. Um, no. I choked like a little girl. Fine. I'd learn that
later. For now, I knew for a fact that I could make love to his glans, and
started inside his foreskin like an anteater desperate for lunch.

Pa howled -- a wounded bear, a rutting bull, a hairy human stud demanding
release -- I nibbled and tongued over and over. Never losing eye contact
with Pa, I started the French kiss the piss-slit. Pa went nuts. His pecs
solidified and the nipples tried to launch from his chest; biceps grew a
whole new layer of knots; his neck was a mass of cords and stretched skin;
face a mask of red-to-purple strain. I wrapped my lips around the head and
used my tongue to peel back the foreskin, then attacked the hyper-sensitive
ridge behind the glans. I reached up with both hands and twisted his
nipples.

I was ready (oh, God, so very, very ready!) for his release. I was about to
receive the holiest sacrament directly from my personal god. Pa did not
disappoint. My previously-nut-locking hands barely reached his tits when
the first massive shot hit my throat. I swallowed and wallowed in pleasure,
each of his howl-growls signalling a new explosion that flared the head and
locked it in my mouth. The head had flared so wide that I wasn't sure that
I could have pulled off if I'd wanted to; needless to say, the thought
never crossed my mind. Pa fucked upwards with each spasm, adding a new,
massive volume of Pa's cum that I sped on its way down my throat and
straight to my belly. Each contraction drove Pa to a new level of
need/demand/ecstasy. Each was part of a circle that intensified each
round. Each left me shaken like a rat in a terrier's jaws as he thrashed
and blasted and heaved and swore. All I could do was hang on and try to
avoid letting my teeth scrape Pa's exploding sceptre. I was in heaven.

<eof>