Date: Mon, 19 Feb 2007 19:33:24 -0500
From: Shawn Adams <shawn0adams@gmail.com>
Subject: King William chapter 3

KING WILLIAM
A STORY OF KINGS
CHAPTER THREE - NIGHT

"We still gonna sleep over tomorrow, Wil?" James asked me on the bus ride
home.  I had thought of nothing else since we discussed it a few days ago.
A part of me was excited, thinking up things we could do.  Another part of
me wasn't so sure.  That part felt it was somehow wrong.  Not wrong in the
`incest is evil' way, I had no clue what incest was, but wrong in the way
that it didn't involve my dad.  It seemed that the inclusion of him made it
okay.  His cock was big, it could make the stuff, and he had hair down
there.  If it were just James and I, it would be different.  And, after
that time with Dad and me alone, doing stuff like that felt like a special
thing between us.

"Sure," I said.  "I think we're going out to dinner, so that'll be
awesome."  Friday was `special food day' at our house.  We would alternate
between ordering in pizza, going out and Mum trying some weird new stuff
that usually only she ended up eating.  Henry and I would just sit there
looking disgusted until Dad said we could have some PB&J.  Betsy would cry.
Dad attempted to eat, moving the food around on his plate to make it look
like he ate more than he really did.  It was sort of a tradition that on
new food Fridays, when Mum was giving Betsy her bath and getting her ready
for bed, Dad, Henry and I would race to the kitchen looking for anything
edible.  Dad eventually smartened up and starting stopping for Take Away on
his way home from work.  He'd get Henry and me something too.  Five-hour
old Taco Bell Take Away was better than `Mum's Food Fiasco' as Dad called
it, behind her back of course.

While looking back on my life, as I write these memoirs, it seems like
Betsy barely existed.  She was Mum's kid while Henry and I were Dad's, me
more so than Henry.  He was always kind of a loaner, but I was always with
Dad.  Years later, I found out that Dad was ready to leave Mum a couple
years after I was born so she secretly stopped taking the Pill.  Boom,
there was Betsy.  It seems strange that they were still fucking if he
wanted a divorce, but hey, a man has needs.

Not that Dad was ever mean to Betsy, quite the contrary.  However, you
could see the indifference in his eyes.  She was always included in
everything we did, got the same amount of birthday and Christmas presents,
and was never forgotten about.  Nevertheless, it was different.  So, if it
ever seems like she doesn't exist in my stories, it is because she
practically didn't. I bet that girl is gonna spend a fortune in therapy.

When I got home that day, Dad was home already, he had had a dentist
appointment.  Mum and Betsy were at Grandma's doing something or other.
Betsy was five and was in morning kindergarten, so most afternoons they did
`girl stuff.'

Dad was taking a nap.  I guess one of his caps had come loose or broken or
something, and he was sleeping off the Novocain; one of the drawbacks of
his quest to have 100% perfect teeth.  I walked into his room and he was in
bed, naked from the waist up, at least, the covers were resting on his
tiny, tan waist.

I didn't usually take naps anymore, certainly not on a school day.  Maybe
on a weekend I'd get sleepy to avoid doing something else, like going to
Grandma's.  Nevertheless, for some reason I was ready for a nap today!  I
crept into the room, removed my shoes, and crawled into bed beside Dad.
Yup, he was naked.

I wiggled down beside him, draping his arm over me, pressing my
uniform-covered ass into his dick, let out a sigh of contentment, and soon
joined Dad in dreamland.  At some point, I turned over, waking up
face-to-face with him.  He was awake too.  "Morning Sport," he grinned at
me.  "What are you doing here?"

At first, I thought he was mad, but his smile never wavered.  "I was a
little sleepy, I guess."  He could tell that was bull.

He leaned in and kissed me hard on the lips, like we did the first time we
napped together.  I kissed back.  His hands roamed over my little body,
scorching each place he touched with desire.  His left hand grabbed my
butt.  Instead of moving on, he kept it there, massaging and grabbing and
kneading, eliciting little moans from me.

His other hand snaked under me and gripped the back of my head, pulling me
closer.  It almost seemed like he was trying to eat me, forcing my head
into his mouth.  It was all so erotic.  I swear, if I was able to cum, I
would have right there.  I guess Dad was having the same problem as he
pulled away from me and grabbed his dick, hissing, "I'm coming, Wil!"

I assumed that meant the stuff was coming, because Dad didn't look like he
wanted to go anywhere.  I flew down to his dick and put my mouth over the
tip, not wanting to miss anything like I did last time.  Just as my lips
were over his crown the stuff came.  I found that I needed to close my lips
around his dick to keep the stuff from running out like the first shot did
when it hit the roof of my mouth.

The stuff kept coming and I kept swallowing; and sucking.  It was like
drinking from a sippy cup: sucking the stuff into my mouth.  When Dad
finished I pulled away from his dick and crawled back up to the top of the
bed.  He leaned over and started kissing me again.  It felt like his tongue
was looking for any of his stuff still in my mouth.  The kissing tapered
off and we just laid there for a while as he calmed down.  I reached out a
couple times to play with his dick; it didn't get soft this time, but
stayed hard.

The ringing phone pulled us out of our daze.  Dad answered it.  It was Mum
asking him to get the chicken out of the refrigerator and preheat the oven,
they'd be home soon.  "Time to get up, Sport," he said, looking a little
crestfallen, I noticed with glee.

Dad went to the kitchen and then took a quick shower.  He was in my room,
dressed in only a pair of green Umbro shorts, playing `Burgertime' with me
when Mum got home.  They had picked Henry up from football practice after
leaving Grandma's house.  Of course, this was very contentious in my
pro-British family.  American football was frowned upon, but Henry loved it
and was good at it.  Therefore, in order to play in the fall, he had to do
both spring and summer soccer leagues (`real' Football.)  So far, I had
avoided any sort of organized sport, playing only for fun, but it was
inevitable that soon I would have to play soccer.

Henry came running into my room and flopped down on the floor as we were
playing.  Dad let him take over his turn and went downstairs, much to my
chagrin.  "What were you doing with Dad?" Henry asked me, giving me another
weird look.

"Duh.  Playing Nintendo."

"Just Nintendo?"

What was he getting at?  "When I got home, we took a nap, then Nintendo."

"If you say so," replied Henry, rolling his eyes at me.  God, I hated
11-year olds.

We played for a while, and then Henry wanted to play `Duck Hunt.'  I hated
that game; it was too hard for me.  Even if I stood right next to the TV, I
still missed half the ducks.  And that barking dog annoyed me.  So he went
off to his room to play it on his Nintendo.  I popped in `Mario' and fought
with level 5-3, having finally beaten 4-4.  Now I kept falling off the tree
things.

After a normal dinner, it was only Thursday, Henry had to do some homework.
Fourth graders in my school didn't get a lot of homework, only twice a week
or so.  Our teachers usually gave us enough time to get it done it school.
Being homework-free, I joined Mum, Dad and Betsy in the family room for
some quality TV time.  I crawled up next to dad on his chair even though
there was plenty of room on the sectional.

Whatever we were watching on HBO was boring so I eventually zoned out:
planning what to do with James tomorrow, wondering where we were going to
dinner, hoping we'd be home by 8:00 so I didn't miss `The A-Team,' plotting
my strategy for `Mario,' thinking about the weird way Henry was talking to
me earlier and finally wishing I could touch Dad's cock again.  The last
thought was brought about by becoming aware of its hardness while I lay
across Dad's lap.  Mum got up about 8:30 to get Betsy off to bed.  The
second she left the room, I turned around so I could kiss Dad.

We kissed for a bit, him rubbing my butt again.  His cock inched its way
under the waistband of his shorts, resting on his stomach.  I put my hand
on it, squeezing rhythmically.  Footsteps on the stairs caused us to break
our embrace.  Dad hurriedly shoved his rigid cock back into his shorts and
threw me over his lap.  I lay there, my chest covering his crotch, facing
the TV, swinging my legs up and down at the knee.

Mum came back and asked what she missed.  Dad didn't falter, just told her
he wasn't paying attention because I was talking about `Mario.'  Mum
laughed and tussled my hair as she walked over to the couch.  Henry came
down a little bit later and we all watched TV until 9:30, my bedtime.  Mom
came up to tuck me in and as I was drifting off, my door opened and Dad
said, "Night, Sport."  I tried to vocalize something, but was too far gone.

* * *

School on Friday seemed to take forever.  My mind wouldn't stay focused on
what I was supposed to be doing; it kept straying to James and my Dad.
Nowadays I guess people would say I had ADD and slap me full of Ritalin,
but back in 1986, having a wandering mind or active imagination was just
part of being a kid.

Finally, the last bell rang and we flowed out of the school to the buses.
James and I always sat together and even had a `reserved' seat: halfway
back, on the left, right before the `hump.'  During the meandering
20-minute ride home, we talked about what we were going to do this weekend,
trying to schedule the dick stuff in amongst all the other things important
to 8-year-old boys.  We had to watch `The A-Team' and our cartoons on
Saturday morning.  Plus if James stayed over on Saturday, we had to watch
`The Facts of Life' and `227.'

The bus let us off at the end of our street.  Some days someone would meet
us, some days not.  Today Aunt Mary was there and walked us back to their
house so James could pick up his stuff.  We each had free reign over each
other's houses so while he was upstairs in his room, I got out some cookies
and stuff for a snack.  We ate a little then horsed around in the kitchen
for a bit, laughing hysterically about how one of the Oreos was backwards,
the words printed on the inside.

Aunt Mary eventually kicked us out so we headed to my house.  Once in my
room, James wanted to do the dick stuff, but I had a schedule all planned.
Henry would be home soon, so we'd all hang out in the family room, then Dad
would come home and we would go out to eat, then home in time for `A-Team'
and finally, then, the dick stuff.  James didn't want to wait that long, so
I let him pull down my pants and touch mine just until Henry got home.

As soon as his hand found my little dick it went rock hard.  He stroked it
up and down.  It felt so good.  Then he grabbed it like a joystick and
moved it all around, causing us to giggle.  He'd stop every so often to
touch his own covered dick, or to play with my balls, but soon would return
to my dick.

It was about time for Henry to be home so we reluctantly ended our session
and went down to the playroom to play on the Apple.  Our Nintendos were
better for games, but some stuff was only on the Apple, so we fooled around
there for a while.  Henry came in and played with us until Mum shouted that
it was time to go get ready for dinner.

We changed out of our uniforms and I put on what Mum had picked out: navy
blue pants, pale yellow button-down shirt and a dorky tie.  James looked
equally as ridiculous in the clothes his mum had sent over.  We were just
coming back downstairs, horsing around as usual, when Dad got home.  He
always looked so elegant in his work clothes; like someone right out of GQ.
His light-gray pinstripe suit pants hugged his perfect ass.  The pink shirt
stretched across his broad shoulders and firm pecs.

After changing into an outfit almost identical to mine, adding a sport
coat, we were off.  We drove about 10 minutes south, to the edge of the
county.  The new interstate spur to the city had been completed last year
and this area was booming.  Strip malls and chain restaurants were popping
up everywhere.

We went to one of those Italian places where the décor is so over-the-top
that you know that no resident of Italy would ever step into a place like
that, much less live there.  Plaid tablecloths and wax-encrusted Chianti
bottles aside, the food was fair.  Certainly not as good as a mom-and-pop
place, but far better than anything on a new food Friday at home.

For some reason, James and I got the giggles during salad.  We, being
eight, would not eat salad, we enjoyed applesauce instead, but everyone
else was sampling the never-ending salad bowl.  I don't remember who
started it, and at first we could contain it, but soon it just exploded.
Anything anybody said to us became funny.  Mum shot us death looks – we
giggled.  Henry looked mortified and tried to kick me under the table – we
giggled.  Dad tried to look stern, for Mum's sake, but I could tell he
wanted to laugh, causing us to giggle even more.

We finally calmed down enough to attempt to eat dinner, but throughout the
rest of the meal, a giggle-fest could erupt at any moment.  After dessert,
Dad suggested going down to the lake in the park and feeding the ducks.  I
loved feeding the ducks.  We'd stop and pick up some cheap bread, because
for some reason all wildlife love cheap bread, and have a blast pelting the
ducks with little bread-balls.

There was a tiny island in the middle of the lake, accessed by a bridge
from the shore.  We'd run all over the island, basically just a sand pile
with 100 feet of paths and a few trees, and up and down the bridge trying
to get the ducks to follow us.  When they did, we'd hit them with wadded-up
bread.  One time I saw an injured duck and was very upset.  I thought maybe
that someone had hurt it, by throwing bread-balls at it, for example.  Dad
explained that that probably wasn't the case, that the bread couldn't
really hurt them, but to be kind to them in the future.  I tried for a
while, but it was too much fun.  In reality, the ducks were morbidly obese
because of their constant diet of bread and the lethargy that set in as
soon as they realized they never had to actually hunt for food.  The ducks
probably thought along the lines of, "Hey, that little kid just threw a
rock at me!  Wait, it didn't really hurt!  Oh look, it floats.  It must not
be a rock.  It's cheap bread!  Yay!  Hold on, does this mean I never have
to exert any energy whatsoever in finding sustenance?  Cool.  I'll just
hang out here in this lake until I die."

The time was rapidly approaching 8:00 and I put up a big fuss about missing
`The A-Team,' so we went home.  Mum and Dad couldn't stand the show so we
watched it downstairs in the playroom.  James and I were so entranced that
Dad could have walked by and squirted his stuff all over us and we wouldn't
have blinked an eye.

* * *

After `The A-Team' we played around a little bit downstairs then went up to
hang out in the family room with everyone else.  My bedtime was later on
the weekends, but we still had to go to my room at 10:00, lights out at
10:30.

Because James slept over so much, we had an extra bed in my room.  Mum had
it all made up and ready.  We were wild to start the dick stuff – the whole
purpose for the sleepover.  We undressed as soon as the door closed and
stood there for a while, looking at each other.

We were naked together a lot: baths, getting changed, horsing around.
Plus, nudity was not exactly taboo in my family.  But, this was the first
time since our shower with my dad that were we naked.  Just the sight of
James's body got my little dick hard.  I guess he felt the same way; he was
hard too.  Not knowing exactly what we should do, we just reveled in being
naked for a while.  We ran around my room, laughing and shrieking, just
clowning around like always, but nude.

We collapsed on my bed, worn out, and just kind of fell into cuddling with
other.  James put his arm around my waist and laid his head on my shoulder.
It felt really nice to be this close to him.  Our dicks were still hard and
James reached down to play with mine again.  His stroking was more relaxed
and loving this time.  He turned his face up to me and I leaned in and
kissed him.

At first it was strange, but I guess instinct took over and we were kissing
like Dad and I had done.  I forced my tongue into this mouth, swirling it
around and then backed off, leaving my mouth open.  James got the hint and
his tongue was soon exploring me.  We were so caught up in the moment I
didn't hear someone come up the stairs.

Dad opened my door and stepped inside.  We broke away from each other with
a start, not knowing what to expect, but Dad was grinning.  "Have fun
tonight, Sports Fans," he said and then leaned down and kissed me hard and
long on the lips.  Then it was James's turn.  Dad pulled away, adjusted his
pants, and headed for the door.  "Lights out.  And be quiet."

With Dad's `blessing' we resumed our fun.  We kissed and then I rolled
James over onto his back and climbed on his chest.  I bent down to continue
kissing while James had one hand on my dick, the other on his, jacking
away.  I left his lips, started kissing his neck, and then down to his
chest.  I licked his little nipples, one at a time and delighted in the
noises this caused in him.  I continued down his whole front, skipping his
dick and balls, and stopping with the tops of his feet.

On my way back up, I gave his dick a quick kiss and it bobbed in
appreciation.  When I made it to his lips, he grunted and flipped me over,
doing the exact same procedure on me.  While he was kissing my nipples,
gently sucking them between his teeth, I almost passed out from pleasure.
But, he didn't just quickly kiss my dick like I had done for him; he kissed
every square inch of it, and my balls too.

The pleasure was unbelievable!  I shifted around and threw him down on his
back and climbed back on top of him, but facing the opposite way.  This way
he could continue his assault on my dick and I could play with his.  His
kissing got wetter.  He was opening his mouth now and slobbering all over
me.  Then he stuck it in his mouth!  Pleasure shot through me like nothing
I had ever experienced before.

I had to stop playing with his dick so I didn't rip it from his body as my
muscles tightened.  Breathing became difficult.  My head was swimming.
Then it happened.  I made stuff!  Well, not really.  BUT, if I could make
stuff, that's when it would have happened.  My eyes rolled back in my head
and every muscle and joint in my body convulsed at the same time.  James
kept sucking and kissing my dick, urging stuff to come out, but to no
avail.

When it was done, I fell over, laying on my side beside my cousin, his hand
feverously flying over his dick.  I wanted to sleep, but the feeling James
had given me was too precious not to share with him.  I put my mouth on the
head of his dick, as I had done to Dad, and started sucking.  Groans
escaped from James's mouth as the same sensation I had just felt began to
sweep through his body.  He grunted, moaned, shook and bucked.  Then he was
still.

We lay there for a few minutes, then crawled up to the head of the bed.
Too sweaty and hot to get under the covers, we just laid there, face to
face, and held each other.  My hand found his ass and massaged it gently.
We kissed lightly then James snuggled down to rest his head against my
chest.  Sleep was calling us, and we were too content to refuse.

Twice during the night we awoke and did it again.  Over the next nine
months we did it as much as we could, but Dad was never involved with both
of us.  It was two separate lives: James and I, and Dad and I.

We turned nine in October and enjoyed the rest of our fourth-grade year.
By June, when school was out, I didn't think my life could get any better.
I had James and I had Dad.  But then, I got Henry too...

***
Up Next:  Chapter Four - Henry
***

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