Date: Thu, 11 Feb 2010 00:05:41 +0100
From: Fox Wood <foxwood@live.de>
Subject: Man of the House 03: Discoveries

Man of the House: Discoveries

***Please Note: This story depicts (or will, in following chapters) sexual
acts between adult men, as well as between male family members. If you
shouldn't be reading this, then don't. As for everyone else, enjoy! Also,
please note that this is a complete work of fiction, with all characters
and events being a complete fabrication of my overactive mind. I know
nothing about construction work, so if you spot any mistakes, please don't
hold it against me, but do let me know how I can put it right.***

For over half an hour, they laid entangled, making out, and for the entire
half hour Frank fought away the questions that only now were crowding back
into his mind. Somehow, he'd opened Pandora's Box, and he was desperately
trying to fit the lid back on, but he had a feeling of gnawing certainty
that it had been too late as soon as he'd seen Raul.

The man he'd just fucked had fucked his eldest son.

"Um, I'm taking a shower in the downstairs bathroom; I'll be in there for
half an hour. Feel free to use the bathroom up here, but I'd rather you
weren't here when I come out, Raul. I think you understand why." Raul
looked up at Frank, and gently nodded.

"Thank you, Mr. Tolliver," Raul said lightly to Frank's wide, naked back as
he walked from his son's bedroom, leaving the young Latin man naked on TJ's
bed.

The water pulsated against Frank's slumped shoulder, filling the bathroom
with steam, but Frank hardly felt the pulsating water. His mind was
swirling, but at that moment, he was unable to get a hold of any one
thought; TJ – his eldest boy – having sex with Raul; he hadn't talked
to Frank about it, but they talked about so much. He felt the pulse of
water lessen slightly as the upstairs shower was turned on, and a minute or
two later, felt the power return as it was shut off once again. Five
minutes later, there was the distant, muffled sound of the back door
closing. Mechanically, Frank washed himself, feeling the last two hours
rinsed from his body, but not from his mind, and then stepped out of the
shower.

Wrapped only in a too-small towel and without even bothering to dry
himself, Frank walked through the den, into the kitchen, opened the fridge
and grabbed a beer. Frank never drank through the day; he worked every day
of every week, and on Sundays he wanted to be as good a role model to his
boys as he could, for the meager time he actually saw them. But, stood in
his kitchen all but naked and dripping over the tiles and worktop at a
little before midday on a sunny Thursday, Frank emptied the can of Miller
in one long pull, took a deep breath and filled the kitchen with a long,
rumbling belch.

Leaving the can on the worktop, he took a seat at the kitchen table, and
forced the boiling mass of confusion from his head. Walking around in a
daze wasn't going to get any of this unraveled, this much Frank knew. Just
the previous evening he'd had the shit-storm of the century to deal with:
the employers were throwing a fit, different sub-contractors were
threatening to jump ship, threats of law suits clouded the air and his own
men were less than pleased.

Not even for a minute had Frank hesitated. He'd made sure that the sub-cons
were on board, as they were the most unstable element; his own men loved to
bitch as much as the next guy, but they were loyal and he was good friends
with most of them; the employers were hardly going to drop his firm, one of
the biggest in the area, and try and find another now that they'd already
sunk the foundations and the ground floor supports were already in
place. Most firms take on a new job, or they don't take it on at all, and
besides, Frank had made it his business to form alliances with as many
contractors in the area as he could. He didn't fuck them over, and they
returned the favor. The sub-cons, though, were a different
matter. Mercenary at the best of times, if the wind of fortune started to
blow in the wrong direction, they set their sails and drifted off to the
next job, and much like Frank's alliances, if they decided to stir the
hornet's-nest, then your project could be blacklisted with virtually every
sub-con in the state. Through emailing, conference-calls, bribery and
threats, Frank had brought the various factions back under his control. A
conference call with them and the employers, with his foremen in the office
as he did so, made sure that everyone knew immediately that things were
back on track.

All that had remained had been to sort out how to get around the obstacle
sat squarely in the middle of their schedule, eating up the precious extra
time they'd already managed to gain. An hour later, and with the help of a
specialist out-of-state firm, Frank's project was back on track, but the
delay was going to swing them the other way and put them a day or two
behind schedule. His foremen, who knew better than to put too much stock
into things like that, good or bad, merely shrugged and made assurances
that they'd be back on track within a week, and were actually looking
forward to a day or two off. Frank had them grinning ear to ear, though,
when he told them that he'd pay them for the missed work out of his own
pocket. The employers almost had a stroke when he told them how much it was
going to cost to put things right, but when Frank made it clear that there
was no other way around it, with his firm or any other, they grudgingly
allowed Frank to ravage their already overspent budget.

You take the problem, you strip it down to its components, and then you
solve them. First up, TJ was having sex with Raul, and had been for a
while, it seemed, as TJ wouldn't just leave a stranger in the house while
he went off to college.

That, in itself, was no problem. Frank was having sex with plenty of guys,
and although he'd never thought about what would he'd feel if he found out
his sons were gay or bi, he was pleased to discover that he felt nothing:
no sense of dread, no feeling of guilt that he might have subconsciously
turned his own kid gay, but also no joy that he was raising a fellow
cocksucker. Frank's sexual preferences had never been something he'd
loathed or celebrated – he liked what he liked – and it should be no
different for his sons. Whether TJ was gay or bi, or even just
experimenting (hell of a way to do it, though, if he was, Frank thought),
there was nothing particularly wrong or right with it.

The beer was causing a buzz in Frank's head, so he spurred himself to get
the house straight before he got too dopey or drowsy. Now dry, he padded
upstairs and got dressed, pulling on some stretched-out old sweat pants and
a worn wife beater. Typical gear for just taking it easy at home, but he
didn't get very many chances to wear it. Putting on some white gym socks,
he then walked down the hall and into TJ's room. It stank like some unholy
mix of a brothel and a gym: sex and sweat, and Frank's dick twitched
beneath the grey cotton of his sweat pants. It was a smell guaranteed to
get Frank off if he was exposed to it for long enough, so he quickly strode
over and threw the windows wide open, then went downstairs to pour himself
a glass of water whilst he waited for the smell to clear. Five minutes
later, he was back in TJ's room. The air had cleared, so Frank set to work
stripping the bed. The rumpled quilt was pulled off and it's cover stripped
and thrown into the hallway, and Frank turned back to strip off the
valance.

There, in the middle of the sheet, was a large, pale, ragged ring that was
unmistakably a big cumstain. TJ had made it, and had probably done so
whilst Raul had been fucking his ass with that long, downward-curving cock
with the huge head. TJ's face buried in a pillow as he gripped his
bedposts, Raul pumping in and out of his ass until Raul was fucking the cum
out of him, forcing TJ's dick to unload onto the sheet without even
touching himself.

The images were vivid in Frank's mind, made more so by the fact that less
than sixty minutes ago he'd wanted to suck the same cock that had plowed
his son. Frank's hand was on his dick, and he'd no idea how it had got
there, when he'd gotten rock-hard, or how long he'd been rubbing his
painfully hard boner through his sweat pants whilst imagining his eldest
boy pinned to the bed by Raul's slender and incredibly long cock. He
already had a big precum stain on the pants, and before he knew it, his
cock was free, and he was jerking his fat length vigorously, his eyes all
the while locked onto his son's cumstain whilst his mind flashed imagined
scenes of TJ and his Latin fucker. Frank's left hand automatically clamped
onto his nipple, but almost as soon as it did so, another orgasm ripped
through Frank's body, so powerful that he staggered and pitched
forward. His left hand was flung out to save himself, and it landed
squarely on TJ's cumstain. There was a feeling like being tazered in the
balls as his hand connected with his own boy's sperm, and despite the
massive load he'd filled Raul with earlier, his bullnuts began to empty
themselves over the sheet; three long ropes striped the length of the bed
and five or six fat wads of Frank's cum spewed onto the cotton and over
Frank's outstretched hand. Finally, shuddering, Frank's climax diminished
and he stood. His right hand was still clutched around his softening dick,
but still it drooled cum over his shaft and hand.

Seizing the sheet, he tore it from the bed, pulling the bed forward noisily
over the worn carpet, quickly wiped his cum from his hands and his cock and
tossed it on top of the quilt cover in the hallway. Stripping the
pillow-cases, he bundled everything up together and took it down to the
utility room, all the while trying not to think about the smell of his and
TJ's cum filling his nostrils.

After the bedclothes were in the wash, Frank took a sponge and lightly wet
it, before returning to TJ's room. Kneeling on the bed, he then wiped down
the wall next to TJ's bed where Raul's cum had landed. It was still
slightly tacky, so cleaned off easily, but there was an impressive amount,
and it had run down the wall. Frank wiped further down, and then
stopped. Where he'd jerked the bed away from the wall when tearing off the
sheet, there on the floor between the bed and the wall Frank could see the
corner of a magazine.

His heart leapt and his breath caught as he grabbed the corner.

Before his eyes, he was now holding a battered porn magazine. On the cover
was a typical Colt model: ruggedly built, a chest full of hair, a gruff,
goateed face and a stiff proud dick pointing off past the camera.

The magazine's title was `Daddies.'

THE END

The story's not over yet, but nevertheless I want your feedback and
suggestions, as well as any comments or criticisms, good or bad. Send them
to foxwood@live.de

Also, I've started a mailing list, whereby I send you each new chapter at
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onto the site. Just send an email to the above address with the title `MOTH
LIST' and I'll do the rest, or just let me know when you send me some
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