Date: Sun, 27 May 2007 17:55:38 -0700 (PDT)
From: Dennis Banneker <storiesnew@yahoo.com>
Subject: Keeping My Son Excited - Chapter 1
_______________________________
Keeping My Son Excited
by StoriesNew (Dennis Banneker)
StoriesNew@yahoo.com
May 24, 2007
_______________________________
Andrew Hadderly, 30
Dylan Hadderly, 14
Peter Adams, 19 (mentioned)
Shawn Adams, 16 (mentioned)
Jason Baker, 14 (mentioned)
Michael Roberts, 14, (mentioned)
_______________________________
It was early June. Things were different this year.
For one thing, I was hot for my son! For another, I'd
finally admitted it to myself and hoped to find a way to
make something happen between us. I got myself a hardon
every time I thought about him, or what we might get into.
Dylan was tall--and hot for a 14-year-old!
Another first--I had a successful first year as the
owner of a small business and finally had enough cash to
take a real vacation for a change. I wanted to go to an
upscale seaside resort--somewhere far from the usual
routine.
I was three years a widower and was no longer grieving
over my wife's death and drowning myself in the past.
I was on my way to being wealthy, and I worked out. So
at the age of 30, I had a great body and looked 25--
and could still attract a mate, especially now that I had
some money to work with.
I had a pile of brochures to look at--and a pile of
cash in the bank.
'Life is good,' I thought--rightly so. I loved my
beautiful son--14 years old, healthy, good-looking, and
nearly a model child. He even got good grades. The only
complaint I has was Dylan's reluctance to help clean the
house and do chores. Other than that, he was obedient.
But he was only 14. What would happen when he got
older--when he reached the age of 16, 17--and wanted the
car to go places? How obedient would he be then? Those
worries faded as my good mood took over.
I was excited about my upcoming vacation and looked
forward to calling my travel agent once I decided where I
was going.
I could hardly wait for Dylan to get home from school
so we could talk. I love my son very much and looked
forward to summer when he would spend more time at home.
It was June, and the weather would be perfect when
school closed for the summer. Dylan loved staying with his
grandmother, and he would have lots to do there while I
took my trip.
Recently I had found myself attracted to Dylan, and
secretly anticipated some discreet sex play with him after
I returned from my vacation. I had seen a few others that
interested me--teens of various ages--but none had the pull
nor the looks that Dylan had.
Besides, I would not take the chance of catching
something from a stranger and endangering Dylan.
"Dad!" my son shouted as he burst through the front
door.
"Hi Dylan. You look happy."
"Yeah! I was the only one to get a final score of 97
in math! I got an A. Isn't that great?" He was a
good student.
"Yes, I'm proud of you," I said, genuinely excited for
Dylan and hugging him warmly.
"What's all that stuff?" he said, looking at the travel
brochures spread over my lap and across half the living
room.
"Travel brochures. I'm planning a vacation--a real one
this time," I said with a smile.
"Where?"
"I was thinking either the Mediterranean or a southern
seaside resort in the U.S., but I'm not sure yet."
"Sounds good. I'll be right back," Dylan said, heading
for the bathroom.
"Don't be too long. I made early reservations at your
favorite restaurant."
"Oh--okay, dad," my son said, looking disappointed.
I knew that he usually hung up his clothes in the
bathroom and masturbated there as soon as he came home
from school.
My son's disappointment stemmed from the restaurant
plans, which would make it necessary for him to postpone
his sexual pleasure until after dinner.
I thought since Dylan would not be jerking off as
usual, he would go to his room to hang up his clothes. I
was wrong. He left them in the bathroom and came out in
his underwear.
"Come to the living room, Dyl."
"Okay," he said, walking quickly in my direction--
practically running.
"You don't have to rush, son."
'He fills out his underwear well for a 14-year-old,' I
thought. The pouch of his briefs told me his penis was
probably half hard.
Dylan has striking good looks. He's 5 feet 9 inches
tall and 135 pounds (he got the height and slenderness from
me), straw-colored blond hair, big intense blue eyes, and a
rather angelic face--not to mention perfectly shaped arms
and legs, a fine chest and the beginnings of a four-pack in
his abdominal muscles. He would be 15 in a few months.
Besides being nicely built, Dylan is 'cute' as they
say. Almost too good-looking, if there is such a thing.
There's a sexiness about him that goes beyond a cute face,
sexy smile, or bulge in his pants. He had an invisible
magnetic charm. I suddenly felt very protective--waking up
to the fact that there were all sorts of people out there
who wanted to jump Dylan's bones, and maybe some who might
kidnap him.
My boy fascinated me in many ways. My main interest
recently was to learn about his sex life. At this stage,
that meant finding out his masturbation habits--since I was
sure he hasn't yet had sex with anyone.
I remembered one recent Saturday when I secretly
followed his every move around the house--like a stalker--
and counted five times that he masturbated.
I was never so aroused, and masturbated twice before I
could fall asleep. He was in his room with the lights on
when I went to bed, so he may have pleasured himself a
sixth or seventh time before sleeping.
There is something very arousing about hearing my boy's
moans and gasps as he pleasures himself--and the sensual
blush on his face when he comes out of his room right after
he does it. I suppose the only thing more arousing would
be to see him in the act.
"Can I stay like this and put my clothes on later?" he
said in his impressively white tee shirt and briefs.
How could I say no?!
"I don't see why not." Dylan wasn't shy--he was
daring, bordering on immodest for a 14-year-old.
"Cool," he said, sitting in the chair next to the
couch, where we were at right angles to each other.
Dylan crouched rather than sat in the chair. I
welcomed the chance to ogle him in a semi-naked state but
wondered what was up.
"So, you had a good day at school?"
"Yep. I always have good days, dad. You gotta think
positive."
"I think I could take lessons from you in that
department, son."
"There's another department you need lessons in, dad."
"What's that?"
"Sex," he said with a coy smile.
"Sex?" I glanced at his crotch.
My son had made me blush. Had he read my mind?
"Yeah dad. You never go out--you don't date. You're
gonna explode one of these days. You gotta go where you
can meet people."
"Oh--I masturbate," I said casually, awed but disturbed
that my son was advising me on my sex life.
"You do?" he said, surprised, blushing in return.
"Sure I do. All guys do. I know you do it, Dylan--or
you wouldn't be normal." I was glad he didn't know of my
sexual attraction to him.
"Daaaad!" he said in that tone all boys seem to use
when they're embarrassed or unsure about something. "It's
a little late for the birds and bees talk."
I noticed that Dylan's hand found temporary lodging in
his briefs.
"Yes. I gave you that talk when you were ten years
old. Do you remember it?"
"Not a whole lot, really," he said, shocking me.
"Dylan, we talked all day about sex!"
"Sorry dad. I think I--"
"I hope you remember to use lubrication when you
masturbate. Do you?"
"Dad--this is embarrassing."
Of course it was. I was doing my best to embarrass
him. Just a little fun. It was something I never did with
Dylan until now. I was feeling good and thought it
couldn't hurt.
"And for the best results, you should keep stopping and
let it build up before you come. Do you remember that?"
"No, but I DO it that way," he said with a grin,
scratching himself. "I put lots of lube on it and stroke
it real slow. Maybe you hear it squishing--it's pretty
loud."
Dylan was on to me--giving me a taste of my own
medicine.
"No--can't say that I've heard that."
Like hell I didn't! The most intense erections I ever
had were from hearing that sound. I was playing it cool--
trying to keep my fatherly image intact.
"Anyway, I let it build up until I can feel my balls
get really tight."
Yes, he was piling it on thick. No 14-year-old boy
would talk to his father like this under normal
circumstances. Then again, Dylan *was* different.
I could tell he was having a good time saying all this,
'making' me squirm. My squirming was an act.
"Oh."
"And I stop. That's when I can feel my cum making
pressure. It feels good. I keep doing that and really
blow a good load."
"That's um, very interesting, Dylan."
"Makes me horny talking about it," my boy said.
"Y-yes, I can tell," I said, eyeing his subtle
manipulation of his penis--apparently erect. Obviously he
had spotted my hardon.
"Yeah, you got boned," Dylan said, staring at my lap.
This was *my* son? Talking about his father's cock?
Honestly, I was never so pleasantly shocked.
"Well, I am a little excited--embarrassed," I said,
staring at my son's bulging briefs.
"Because of my boner?" he said with a boyish, silly
grin, arousing me--more so when he touched the bulge.
"I knew you were a healthy boy, Dylan, but--that looks
very . . . adult-sized." I guessed him to be six or seven
inches.
And what kind of father was I--talking about my son's
penis? I didn't want the full answer to that. I told
myself I'm a good dad and happen to lust after my son. For
sure, I wouldn't force him. I just hoped we could make a
willing connection. I had no idea how but the current
situation gave me hope.
I cringed when he slouched down in the chair, making
the outline of his erection show plainly. I was seeing
this for the first time. Was he *trying* to arouse me? It
looked that way.
My face had to be dark with blush, and I was
embarrassed--this time for real. I felt like a kid getting
caught with his hand in the cookie jar. But this was more
serious. I was caught with my eyes between Dylan's legs.
I nearly died when my son stood up, his hard penis
showing very clearly--a large protrusion in his sexy
briefs. I choked when he rubbed it. Was this my boy's
response to my staring? Or was he innocent of that?
"It's over six inches, dad. Don't you think that's
good?"
"Yes," I said, thinking of a way to truly embarrass
him--to make him stop all this. "I'm not sure you can
withstand the wait. You usually do it when you get home
from school. You might have an accident in the restaurant.
You'd better jerk off now."
I know I should have told Dylan it's not right for him
to display himself like that. My lust was too great. And
I stared at his bulging underpants again.
"Yeah, dad," he said, blushing, but boldly sliding his
briefs down. "You wanna see it anyway."
Son or no son--a 14-year-old was telling me he knew I
wanted to see his dick! My heart pounded.
I could hardly breathe, staring at his exposed erect
penis, aroused and shocked at the same time. He was
well beyond the little-boy stage, and his dick was not
thin. I got a good look before his hand took possession of
his young cock. My son was masturbating not three feet
from me.
"Okay," I said firmly. "Stop. Enough. You've had
your fun. Now put it away."
That was such a bad lie. I was ashamed. But I feared
Dylan's finding me out. Eventually he would have to know
about me, if I were going to play with him that way. For
now, I didn't have the balls to tell him the truth.
"Aw, he was just starting to have fun," Dylan said,
staring down at his penis and petting it. He grinned and
tucked it back in his briefs.
Then my boy giggled--a thing I loved. The look and
sound of him was very endearing. Giggling turned to
laughter, and to big guffaws.
"Sorry, dad," Dylan said with a huge grin, apologizing
for his behavior. "But it was so fun!"
"Yes, it was," I said, grinning back amiably, his
reaction casting doubts on my hopes.
"Well, dad--how did it look?"
"Very big and masculine--as you well know."
"I'm so horny!"
"I'll cancel the reservations. Go do what you need to
do, boy." Saying that gave me blue balls.
"Oh, yeah!"
Dylan scooted off to his room as if we'd been talking
about a video game. I was ready to have a heart attack. I
would have given anything to have the guts to follow him
and ask to watch. It was too risky.
I sat back in my easy chair and picked up the
newspaper, hoping to calm my nerves. But my son reappeared
a few seconds later.
"Hey, dad," Dylan said, standing naked with a hardon.
He was either tempting the shit out of me or he had no
clue. And if he was tempting me, he knew he had me
trapped.
"Dylan! I thought you were going to jer--"
"I will. But I gotta tell you something."
"Sure, son. Anything. But--"
"I'm gay, dad," Dylan said, his tone obviously designed
to shock me.
I avoided saying, 'Oh, yes!'
With this announcement, I considered taking my son on
vacation with me. I had to think out all the consequences.
"That's fine with me, son." This was not a lie. I had
often thought about Dylan as a straight boy as well as a
gay boy--well before I felt any attraction. I long ago
decided either way would be all right with me.
How could I reject him for what he is?
"Huh?" Dylan said, not sounding like my bright boy.
"I thought about it a long time ago. It's all right if
you're gay."
When I saw his erection bounce, it took all my strength
to avoid getting up and touching it.
"You gotta be kidding," he said, coming next to me.
His erection touched my arm. "Just like that, you accept
it?"
"Yes," I said, holding him lovingly with my hands on
his naked hips.
"God!"
"What would happen if I objected? You might do things
with strangers--and put THIS in danger," I said, taking
hold of his rigid penis.
"Oh, that feels good."
"Of course it feels good--almost any touch feels good
to boys your age," I said, shocked that my son did not
object to my touching his privates.
"But dad--"
I squeezed his beautiful hardness before letting go.
"Besides, being gay is becoming more popular. We'll
have to talk--and set up rules. But as long as you don't
go telling people about it, and you're happy and play it
safe, I'm okay with it."
"Safe? You mean condoms and all that stuff?"
"Yes--and making sure you have sex in a safe place."
"You mean like do it in the locker room and the woods?"
"No!" I said, realizing I didn't know what I'd meant by
a safe place.
"Where, then?"
"Here at home."
"That's crazy, dad. What am I supposed to do--show up
here with a guy and say, 'Hi dad, don't mind us, we're just
going to my room to have sex.'?"
This Dylan said with his hands in front of his crotch,
swaying charmingly from foot to foot.
"No. You won't have to say anything. Just go to your
room."
"Oh, God," Dylan whispered, "you're serious. Why would
you make it so easy for me?"
"Should I make it difficult?"
"Well--no. But why?"
"Can't you guess?"
"Not really."
"Dylan--I'm starting to go gay, too."
"No way, dad."
"I've been attracted to young men for some time now.
It happened gradually since your mother passed away."
I wasn't sure about the others, but I knew I was
attracted to *him.*
"That explains it. The way you looked at Jason last
year when we took him to the lake."
Jason is Dylan's close friend.
"Yes, I like him."
"What about ME, dad?"
"Yes, you're very attractive, but you're my son and I--
well, I just think--"
Damn! I blew it.
"Yeah, I know. But it might be fun."
I stood and hugged him, getting a poke in the groin and
smears of my son's sexual juices on my pants.
"Dylan--this will only work if you share your sexual
thoughts and activities with me. That way, I can guide
you, and we can prepare for your having actual sex."
"Dad--I'll . . . I'll tell you," he said, blushing
cutely. "I have no one else to talk to about this."
Here, Dylan was sincere--almost desperate. I expected
resistance and was puzzled.
"Tell me now. Sit here," I said, pointing to the
footstool. I slid my handkerchief under his genitals.
"Oh, yeah. I get a lot of precum most times."
"So what can you tell me, Dylan?"
"There's this kid in most of my classes, Michael
Roberts," my son said excitedly. "He's really cute, and he
has a boner most of the time. I can see him touching it
under the desk--and when he stands up. It drives me
crazy," he said, touching himself.
"And what do you do?"
"Well . . . I . . . go jerk off in the boys room."
"Sounds wise. What about Jason?"
"He's hot, too. But he's not in any of my classes. We
jerked each other off a few times in my room."
"Good."
"Good?"
"Yes. Boys do things like that and it's better that
you do it in your room than out in the bushes somewhere."
"Oh. Yeah."
"What else have you done? Any sex?"
"No real sex. I jerk off thinking about Michael a lot.
Jason, too, sometimes."
"Anyone else?"
"You're not pissed about this?"
"No. I'm very interested in your life, Dylan. Are
there others at school you're attracted to?"
"Yeah, some older boys that I see in the halls, but I
don't know most of the them. One of them is Shawn Adams--
he's 16--and his brother Peter, he's 19 and repeating his
senior year."
"No girls?" I said, surprised at the age range he
liked.
"No."
Dylan was unconsciously stroking his cock with two
fingers--precum flowing freely as he gazed at my crotch.
"You'd better go do . . . what you need to do."
"Yeah dad, we can talk later."
Dylan arose and walked to his room--precum dripping on
the carpet. I had to smile.
Inwardly, I was regretting that I didn't just drop to
my knees and pleasure him right there on the living room
floor. Another part of me was relieved that he was no
longer visible.
It aroused me to know that he was going to his room to
masturbate. I went to my bedroom to relieve my tensions.
As I passed Dylan's room, I heard the squish of his
lubricated hand and his moans of pleasure. This hastened
my own pleasure.
New thoughts distracted me. How would Dylan handle his
sexual encounters? Did I give him too much freedom? I
could always set down special rules, but would he obey?
Was I giving my horny, uncontrolled 14-year-old boy free
license to give in to every whim? To prevent a tragedy, I
had to become a disciplinarian.
I especially dreaded another summer of doing all the
housekeeping--a situation caused by my unwillingness to
insist that Dylan do his share. I just kept quiet and let
it go. That was my way of keeping the peace--avoiding the
subject--and it was wrong. But it was more pleasant to do
it myself and not stir up trouble.
Even worse was the yard work. Dylan would promise to
mow the lawn, but aside from a few exceptions, never
actually did it. And I never said a word.
Deep down, I knew that he needed to be made to toe the
line--not solely for *my* convenience, but for his own
character formation. Even though I didn't complain, I'm
sure Dylan knew what he was getting away with.
I had to start acting like a real father.
I needed a way to keep my son in line--to be made to
keep his promises to me, to be sensible about his sexual
activity, and to obey when I asked him to do chores. Could
a 14-year-old be sensible on his own? Probably not--not
totally. I was at a loss for ideas on how to re-train him.
I went on line and searched under combinations of
'boy,' 'training,' 'obedience,' and 'discipline.' I was
amazed to discover chastity belts for sale. I thought they
were a thing of the ancient past. It was promoted on
several web sites as an excellent training tool for boys.
I had my doubts but read thoroughly and was convinced.
I ordered three of the chastity devices, the type
designed to accommodate the full erection without squeezing
it or causing any other discomfort. This was accomplished
with an oversized rigid tube.
I had them shipped via overnight service.
I was *not* interested in the type of chastity
belt that caused discomfort on its own. Causing the boy
needless suffering was not my goal. It was enough that my
son would experience the consequences of delayed orgasm.
'I'll have a surprise for him tomorrow--when he comes
home from his last day of school,' I said to myself.
I planned to use the chastity things as a way of
motivating Dylan to do his chores and be more cooperative
around the house.
According to the site, denying a boy his orgasm for a
few days (weeks in severe cases) would result in him asking
for it--eventually begging for sexual relief--and willing
to do almost anything to get it.
This was not news, exactly, but it did remind me what
it was like to be 14 and rush to my room--desperate to jerk
off and relieve that indefinable but overpowering need.
The site relieved my fears concerning blue balls. I
discovered some pertinent facts. Blue balls was not a
harmful thing in the absence of undue swelling. Not all
boys get the condition. The younger the boy, the less
likely he would get blue balls.
The chastity belt would be the ultimate control over a
boy, especially a horny one like Dylan. Of course, there
were vent holes and pee holes in the tube of the device--so
he wouldn't be dependent on me for his every move. He
would be able to pee and wash his dick easily.
Making Dylan wear the belt was also a way of keeping
him 'down on the farm,' as they say. Because of the large
penis-tube, the chastity thing bulged unnaturally and was
embarrassing. What boy would go walking around town
looking like he had half the kitchen sink in his pants?
Reading from various other web sites, I confirmed the
claim of the relative harmlessness of blue balls, and that
boys *do* tend to beg a great deal after a few days in the
device. With Dylan and his frequent need to masturbate, I
imagined after a day or less, he would be pleading.
I had to laugh at one medical site that said that
younger boys (12 to 14) were more tolerant of delayed
sexual climax. They didn't know Dylan.
I became erect as I pictured his penis hard and trapped
in the device for days at a time--his erection thicker with
need as time passed. At least the thing had ample room--
enough to hold a much larger, adult-sized organ.
Especially with boys younger than 19 or so, the site
said, it would be necessary to be flexible--that I should
be willing sometimes to give my son his release sooner than
I'd planned. This sent me on a new information quest.
It went on to explain that if I were too eager to train
him and became inflexible or brutish, this would cause the
boy to turn against me--and would make him *less* obedient
and cooperative, not more. I didn't want to hurt Dylan or
push him too far.
But the site warned not to just give in to all of the
boy's whims. Since Dylan would be begging for release, he
would be offering to do almost anything to get it.
The site recommended that I *not* merely give him a
chore and then allow him an early release (orgasm) after he
completed the task. That was okay only if the day of his
release was at hand. Early release needed special handling
and could not be treated lightly.
They recommended I purchase a plastic paddle and use it
on Dylan--not as a punishment or anything negative, but to
use those paddle whacks exclusively as the price he would
need to pay for early sexual release. That paddle was not
to be used for any other reason.
I had my doubts, but what the site was saying made
sense. I decided to be bold. I ordered two paddles,
wincing as I did so.
I was not interested in making my son scream in pain
with the paddle or by any other means. I was assured that
I could give a good dose of pain with the plastic paddle--
just enough to make it seem like a payment--without having
lasting or damaging effects. In other words, done with the
correct level of restraint, the boy would have no trouble
sitting down after a short period.
I was sure that Dylan's embarrassment of being paddled
naked would be pain enough.
But, paddle aside, knowing his pretty cock would be
hard and pounding in that tube, getting more desperate by
the hour--then taking the thing off him and touching his
desperate erection--was a way of playing with Dylan
sexually; to be involved with him and his alluring penis--
in a way that did not resemble sexual play.
Dylan likely would not see anything 'playful' about
having to wait for his orgasms or take whacks to his butt
for early release. I could hide behind that and not reveal
my sexual motives.
Could I restrict myself to mere touching?
I decided that Dylan had to be with me on vacation.
His easy arousal and desires to have sex with others would
need careful watching that his grandmother could not
provide.
I held off calling the travel agent.
After a dinner of hamburgers, green beans, and
potatoes, Dylan volunteered to talk more on the subject of
sex--surprising me again.
"Dylan--I'm . . . flattered that you want to tell me
about this. And proud of you."
"Wait, dad--I'll be right back."
When Dylan returned, he was shirtless and wore a pair
of thin summer shorts--without underwear--and his penis was
half hard, bulging the fabric clearly. I had a feeling
this was supposed to tell me something--deciding it would
be wise to ask him about it.
"Nice shorts, son. But why no underwear?"
Dylan blushed deeply and looked at the floor. This was
a deep shock to me. What happened to his boldness? His
embarrassment was a clue, I supposed.
"I'm an . . . I can't think of the word. I like to
show off."
"An exhibitionist," I said calmly.
"Yeah but . . . I can't do it anywhere but here."
"That sounds wise. Are you doing it for me or for
yourself?"
Another blush.
"Both, I think."
"Are you happy doing that, Dylan? How do you feel
about it?"
"A little scared. Makes me horny, though."
I pictured my son standing naked at the hotel window,
waving at all the cute boys.
"I see." My calm exterior was a deceit.
"I did it at school a couple of times," he said
nervously. I started to say something, but Dylan beat me
to it. "I know that was way risky. I won't do it again."
"All right. Relax. What did you do?"
"Boned myself up so Michael would see when we walked
out of class."
"That doesn't sound so bad. Did it work?"
"No," Dylan said, blushing. "He didn't look."
This time, when Dylan blushed, he looked helpless.
Obviously the boy was lusting fiercely for Michael.
"It's okay, Dylan," I said, hugging him, pulling him
into my lap. "*I'M* looking."
"Yeah," he said with a sheepish grin, "well--I figured
that. It was hard for me to go through with it and . . .
come out here like this." He touched his growing bulge.
"Oh. I'm glad you said that. I thought it was no big
deal for you."
"Sometimes it's hard more than half the school day," he
said very quietly--a quick change of subject, I thought.
"Do you think that happens to you more than other
boys?"
"Yeah. I just jerked off a couple hours ago, and I'm
real horny again," he said, his voice gaining strength.
"Dylan, maybe you're worrying too much about this," I
said reassuringly, giving his chest a good squeeze.
"Really?"
"Yes. I remember lots of boners that first year of
high school."
"But--"
"And masturbating at home."
"A lot?"
"Yes."
"As much as me?"
"Maybe not, but every boy has his own unique sex drive.
Some boys might do it ten times a day. I know some only do
it a few times a week."
"No way! A few times a week? I could never do that!"
Little did he know. Some of my message got through to
Dylan. He seemed more relaxed.
"You had to be horny a lot--you had me when you were
sixteen, right?"
"Yes. I'm a thirty-year-old wonder," I said, trying to
take the focus off my teen years.
"Yeah--you had to do it a lot," Dylan said sheepishly.
His grin was bewitching.
"So go masturbate and enjoy it," I said.
Dylan got the strangest grin.
"Should I leave my door open, dad?"
"What? Oh, the exhibitionist thing."
"Yeah."
Full silly grin now.
"Only if you want me to hear. Maybe see."
I heard and saw all right! Damn near choked as I saw
Dylan's sizable cock with his hand speeding up and down on
it as the boy moaned and made captivating noises.
When I saw my son's first spurt shooting up like a
fountain, I ran to my bedroom and did the same.
Afterward, I went to my travel agency's web site and
made a double booking--one to a family-style resort, the
other to a naturalist villa, both near Key West. I made
sure to get a late departure, so the chastity belts would
arrive before we left.
I emailed the principal to excuse Dylan from the last
day of school. We were leaving tomorrow! We needed time
to plan and pack.
I would take Dylan to the naturalist place first. If
he didn't like it there, we could switch to the resort--a
brief cab ride away.
Everything was a blur until I was seated in the plane,
cruising high in the air.
It got cold on the aircraft, so I put a blanket over my
lap and Dylan's.
I got very brave with my son, placing a hand under the
blanket, halfway up his thigh, rubbing sensually.
This gave Dylan a very sexy grin.
That was the encouragement I needed. I slid my hand up
his leg to his penis. I was not surprised but thrilled to
find the boy hard. I grabbed the hot bulged fabric and
squeezed.
"Dad, what are you doing?" Dylan said, leaning over and
whispering. His warm breath in my ear caused my cock to
jump.
"Making you horny."
"Dad--you'll make me have a boner when we land."
"Carry this magazine and cover it up."
"People will know."
"Nonsense. They'll all be too busy with their
luggage."
"Daaaaad."
"Besides, with a magazine you can use it as a flap."
"Huh?"
"Flip it away when you see a cute boy you like."
"Oh. That's hot."
'What did I start?' I was thinking as I slid two
fingers inside the leg of his shorts and found his naked
hard flesh.
Dylan's body stiffened. He sucked air through clenched
teeth. His hot hardness and trembling legs aroused me.
"Oh, dad!"
--StoriesNew (Dennis Banneker)
StoriesNew@yahoo.com
Did you like? Let me know. :-) (I have ideas for a
chapter 2.) Hope I made you happy. If you tell me what
you liked, you'll make me very happy. Don't be shy. I'm
just a guy like you. (No website, no commercial
connections, just little ol' me. All email is private and
I delete them in a timely manner.) If you want me to
reply, please let me know.
I hope you needed to wipe up something after reading.
StoriesNew@yahoo.com
(Dennis)
Dennis Banneker is a 26 year-old guy who graduated with a
degree in English and hopes to try writing full time. Even
one email will be encouraging.
StoriesNew@yahoo.com