Date: Thu, 8 Feb 2007 01:43:28 -0500
From: Shawn Adams <shawn0adams@gmail.com>
Subject: King William chapter 1

KING William
A STORY OF KINGS

CHAPTER ONE -- THE FIRST TIME

My cousin James and I were born only five days apart.  I was the older one,
and I never let James forget it.  Our mothers were sisters and tremendously
enjoyed being pregnant together.  Again, my mother was the eldest one, this
time by five years.  We lived in a small town about an hour north of `the
city.'  My maternal grandmother, another aunt, James's mom, and us all
resided within 10 blocks of each other.

The town was very old-fashioned: huge Victorian palaces (some sadly chopped
to bits to fit upwards of 10 apartments), large yards, brick streets with
distinctive trolley-track marks still evident and unlocked front doors.
This practice, sad to say, has stopped recently.  The influx of drugs,
namely heroin, and refugees from the city have not only forced residents to
begin locking doors, but has also prompted numerous alarm signs to take up
precedence in the rose bushes.

I have an elder brother, Henry; he is three years older than I am.  My name
is William, by the way, Wil for short.  I also have a younger sister,
Elizabeth, called Betsy.  James also has a brother, George, four years
younger.

Firstly, I have to say that my whole family is insane.  Even though we are
from Pennsylvania, we are all named after British monarchs.  My mom is
Victoria and James's mom is Mary.  Crazy.  Over the years, James and I
usually just referred to each other as `king.'

Because we are the same age, we ended up together all the time.  I was, and
am still, much closer to James than to my brother Henry.  We look so much
alike that most people mistake us for twins.  Even more curiously, we look
exactly like MY father.  About the same height and weight, we both have
blond hair and green eyes.  Just like my father.  Uncle Robert, James's
dad, (you can tell by his name he married into the family) has black hair
and blue eyes, which led to a lot of whispering at church: Episcopalian, of
course.

All through childhood, James and I were together.  Sleepovers were
constantly happening.  We took baths together all the time.  Even after the
point most children stop bathing together, we continued.  Baths evolved
into showers.  Sometimes Henry would be involved, but most times not.

One time when we were eight, we showered with my father.  My father,
Michael, can best be described as a god.  He stood six feet and two inches
tall, always seemed to have a tan, had baby blond hair and the deepest
emerald green eyes you can imagine.  He was built, to use the vernacular,
like a brick shit-house.  He rarely worked out, and had an office job, so
it was not from physical labor.  Now, in my early thirties, I hate people
like him.

Anyway, my dad and I were always close.  We would horse around, play ball,
wrestle, tickle, things like that.  However, he was never afraid to cuddle
up on the couch with me, or sleep with me if I was scared.  Looking back,
he was never really fully clothed around the house.  I remember lying on
his chest on the couch watching TV and all he had on was a pair of tiny
briefs.  Seeing him in the kitchen or on the deck in just a jockstrap, or
completely nude, was common.

A few times, we had showered together, but I guess I was too wrapped up in
myself to notice his body.  I was probably babbling on about James and what
we had done together that day or what we planned to do together later.  On
the other hand, it could be the fact that I was so used to seeing my father
practically naked or naked that it just became old hat.

One Saturday afternoon in late summer, our mothers were out with Betsy and
George.  I think Henry had practice of some sort, probably soccer since my
mother insisted we were British.  We were playing on the deck and my dad
was working in the backyard.  He had on a pair of the smallest orange
running shorts ever made.  They would have been tight on me, and I was
eight.  I remember just watching my dad work.  I can still see his muscles
straining and the sweat dripping down his back.  James and I were playing
G.I. Joe, but eventually he ended up just watching my dad too.  Neither of
us said anything, and I do not really remember thinking anything.  We were
just watching, in admiration and love.

Every so often Dad would look up at us, smile a big toothy grin, and wave.
We eagerly waved back.  After a while, the work finished, Dad headed in.
"Ok, sports fans, I'm gonna go take a long, hot shower.  Be good," Dad
said.  He always called us `sports fans' when we were together, or `sport'
individually.

"Can we shower with you, Dad?"  I piped up.

He lost his stride for half a second, but let out a merry, "Sure thing" as
he walked into the house.  "Clean up G.I. Joe first."

We wasted no time in gathering up our guys and stuff and threw them into
their case.  I ran it down to the playroom and put it away.  As we were
racing up to the second floor, Dad was walking into the bathroom I shared
with Henry, naked.  There.  That moment.  That was the first time I noticed
my dad's ass.  High, round, stark white cheeks.  Tan lines you would have
to be blind not to see.  I had seen my dad's ass tons of times, but never
did it mean anything to me.  Until that moment.

We ran into my room to take off our clothes, and entered the bathroom just
as Dad was getting in the shower.  "Come on in, sports fans, the water's
fine," he said.

We raced over to the tub, and I climbed in first, followed closely by
James.  Dad stood facing the showerhead, letting the water hit his face and
head and spray everywhere.  His ass was right in front of me and I could
not take my eyes off it.  Dad turned around and ass was replaced by cock in
my vision.  He let the water hit the back of his neck and from there it
rolled over the rest of his body.

Dad's cock hung soft, dripping wet, nestled in barely perceivable blond
hair, over his balls.  A thick stream of water ran off his balls to the
bottom of the tub.  I reached out, cupped my hand in this stream, and then
splashed it onto my face.

"Come on, sport.  Your turn," he said to me.  We changed positions as he
lowered the showerhead so I could get wet.  Rubbing water through my hair,
I looked up at him and smiled.  He smiled back and then reached down and
splashed me.  Laughing, he scooted out of the way so James could come up
next to me.

We were getting each other wet, laughing, giggling, and splashing.  Dad had
reached for the soap and was lathering himself up.  We stood there in the
stream of water and watched him.  His chest, arms, armpits, then his legs
and feet.  He reached behind him to get his ass, squatting a little to get
into the crack, and then he came back out front to do his cock.

He started by rubbing the bar of soap through his pubic hair.  Then, ever
so gently, he rubbed his balls, around and around.  He squatted again as he
reached under, moving the soap forcefully back and forth.  By the time he
got to his cock, James and I had stopped moving altogether and were
staring, awestruck and open-mouthed at my gorgeous father.

He ran the bar up and down a few times, then picked up his dick with his
other hand and did the underside.  He stopped, rubbed his hands between the
soap to build up a good lather, put the soap down, and then reached back
down for his cock.  Grabbing his dick with one hand and his balls with the
other, he started rubbing the lather all around.  His dick started to get
bigger.

I could not move I was so enthralled.  As his hand was moving up and down
his shaft, it was getting thicker and longer.  I felt a weird tingle in my
own dick, but ignored it.  Suddenly James broke the silence.  "Can I touch
it, Uncle Michael?"

Dad looked down at us, smiling, but did not answer.  Instead, he reached
out, took James's hand, and placed it on his dick.  James just kind of held
it there for a minute, but soon started rubbing the lather around as Dad
had done.  Not liking being left out of anything, I reached out and started
rubbing Dad's balls.  They felt strange.  Springy, but hard.  Soon both of
my hands were going to town, and James brought his other one in as well.
We switched and now I got to touch my dad's dick.

I had no idea what size it was, having only mine, James's and Henry's to
compare it to.  Nevertheless, it looked and felt massive.  It was so hard
and felt so hot.  Dad had his one hand resting on the shower curtain rod,
brought the other one down, and placed it on my shoulder.  I looked up at
him and he had such a happy look on his face.  He smiled again, and said,
"Your turn, sports fans."

We backed away and Dad got down the soap again.  We changed positions with
him again and he turned us around so our backs were to him.  He started
with the shoulders and worked his way down: my shoulders then James's, my
back then James's.  He began rubbing my ass cheeks then went down the backs
of my legs and up again.  His big hand pressed against my back, forcing me
to bow a little.  I felt his other hand and the soap in my crack.  Up and
down, up and down.  His finger found my hole and danced around it a little.
I squealed with delight.  Then he moved onto James's ass and I turned
around to watch.  Dad was hunched down, the water hitting him in the back
of the head as he soaped James's crack.  I looked down at his dick and it
was rock hard.

Now it was time for our fronts.  He followed the same routine, leaving our
dicks until last.  Doing me first, he rubbed my little balls and my
surprisingly hard pecker repeatedly.  Then James.  He stood so we could
rinse, his hard cock inches from our faces.  I reached out to touch it
again.  He smiled and rested his hand on my head.  James joined in and
began playing with his balls.

After a few minutes, Dad began to groan.  He pushed our hands out of the
way and took over himself.  He was rubbing faster and harder than we had.
He was moaning more, moving his head back and forth.  "Watch this sports
fans," he grunted.  He aimed his dick lower, at our chests, and kept
pounding.  Then his whole body began to shake and stuff started flying out
of the head of his dick.

James and I watched, speechless, as he coated our little nipples with his
spunk, moving from side to side to hit us both.  He slowed down and a few
dribbles hit the bottom of the tub and swirled away down the drain.
Breathing heavily, he brushed my nipple with his finger, gathering up some
of his stuff and brought it to his lips.  He put his finger into his mouth,
sucked, and brought his finger out clean.

I immediately did the same thing, collecting some stuff from my chest and
eating it, followed closely by James.  It tasted weird, but not bad.  I had
some more.  Dad got back out the soap, scrubbed up his dick, then our
chests and rinsed us all off.  He turned off the shower and we all got out
to dry ourselves.

"That's something only big boys can do, sports fans.  You'll be able to do
it too in a little while," Dad told us.

"Not right now?"  I asked, feeling like I just got kicked out of a really
cool club.

"Not right now."

"Can we do it with you again, Uncle Michael?"  James asked.

"Sure, anytime it's just us three."

"We can shower with you again, too, right Dad?"

"Sure, Sport," my dad said with a huge toothy grin.

***
Up Next:  Chapter Two - Exploration
***

Feel free to comment:  shawn0adams@gmail.com


Copyright (C) 2007 Shawn Adams.  All Rights Reserved.