Date: Tue, 14 May 2002 01:42:52 -0700 (PDT)
From: Frank Calder <calderfrank@yahoo.com>
Subject: Michael and his Dad - part I

Comments and suggestions welcome at: calderfrank at yahoo dot com

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My name is Michael, I am 16. Although I was born in Western Europe and
my Dad is Caucasian, I definitely take after my Thai mother as far as
my physical aspect is concerned. I am not very tall nor strongly built,
my facial features are definitely Asian - although not caricaturally -
and without being really dark the natural colour of my skin is the one
everybody tries to get on sunny beaches in summer. I am often told I am
cute. Not handsome: cute. I must add that I have absolutely no body
hair except for a small and short patch on my pubis, above my 5-inch
penis.

Dad works for a petroleum company and used to be sent all over the
world for special missions. When I was 9 he went to Yemen. There, as he
was prospecting in the Northern part of the country, his party was
abducted my rebels. His Yemeni driver was sent back to his family while
his American colleague got shot dead a few weeks later when he tried to
steal a gun from one of their captors. I do not know all the details
but it seems their prospecting activity was not totally legal, which
explains why the embassy did not try very hard to free him for fear the
case would attract too much unwanted publicity. On the other hand,
Dad's company really tried everything they could to help him but to no
avail. He spent four years as a hostage and when he came back I was
already 13 and he was 48.

In the mean time my mother - who did not work and had never really
adapted to life in the West - got depressed, started to drink and to
gamble. She got very short tempered and even violent with me and my
life became a nightmare. Not only would she beat me up for no reason
when she was drunk but she would also try to use me for her gambling
addiction by forcing me to go and clean the houses (or cars, or
gardens) of the people from whom she had borrowed money that she could
not repay. She even tried several times to make me steal money or
things that could easily be sold while in these houses. During those
four years I was physically and mentally bruised, I lived in shame and
fear. Basically I was robbed of four years of my chilhood during which
I missed Dad every single day. I did not know what to do, I was in need
of strength, protection and guidance. Like any child I needed
supervision and discipline. I needed someone who would set limits and
show me what was acceptable and what was not, and my mother was totally
incapable of that. In other words I needed a strong, powerful male
figure I could look up to, respect and trust. I needed my Dad.

His eventual release marked the end of hell for both him and I. He soon
realized what the situation was at home and sent my mother back to her
folks. We have not heard from her since then and we do not miss her.

I cannot describe how happy I was that he was back and how grateful
that he had put an end to my nightmare. I worshipped him as a god and
still do to this day. I made the decision that I too would do anything
to make his life better and more enjoyable. Anything.

One morning, a few days after my mother had left, Dad entered my
bedroom to wake me up. He came and sat next to me on the bed and slowly
and gently stroked my forehead and my cheeks to wake me up. I opened my
eyes and was overwhelmed to see his smiling face looking at me. I
smiled back. It took me a few seconds to realized that not only I was
stark naked - I always sleep naked - but that I had pushed the sheets
away from me in my sleep and was sporting a morning erection. I went to
pull the sheets back over me when Dad said:

"Don't bother. That's something I want to talk to you about, Mike. Now
that your mother is gone and that there will only be you and I living
here I think we should dispense with useless prudery. I don't want to
have to hide on my way to and back from the bathroom - or to the
kitchen or living room for that matter. I sometimes like to stay naked
around the house and you will see me naked quite often. You do not have
to do the same but I want you to know that it is OK with me if you walk
around naked. And if one of us gets an erection, well, so be it...
What's the big deal?"

I am not easily shocked and I totally subscribed to the practical
aspect of this speech. I was, however, new to the idea.

"What does it feel like to be naked around the house, Dad? I've never
done it."

"Well, what about you try and see for yourself, son?"

"OK. I will."

I stayed naked all day and I loved the new feeling of freedom it gave
me. I decided I would do it as often as I could. From that day on, I
have taken to get undressed as soon as I am home and I stay naked at
all times. Dad does the same sometimes but not always.

The following evening, as Dad was watching television and I was playing
cards on the floor next to the sofa he said:

"You know Michael, I am really, really happy to be back with you. Even
before I was captured my relationship with your mother was
deteriorating and only the thought of YOU kept me going all these
years. I want us to have the best possible life together. You need to
be guided and supervised but I am afraid I am not very good at
discipline. I will have to rely on you to behave and do as I say. If
you don't and we're at odds with each other our lives will not be very
enjoyable. I want a peaceful home, free of drama and fighting."

I turned my head, grabbed his hand, kissed it and held it on my cheek.

"I really want that too, Dad. You do not have to worry. I will do
anything you tell me. I love you so much. I want to be as obedient a
son as possible so you can be proud of me."

"Atta boy. Let's have a cuddle."

I crawled up to his lap and snuggled in his big and strong arms where,
for the first time in many years, my little and naked body felt warm,
safe and secure protected as it was by his strong and manly presence. I
looked up to his face and adored him.

                               *
                             *   *
                               *

Over the last three years our life has fallen into a pattern.

I come back from school at about 4 pm, Dad is not home before 7. That
leaves me plenty of time to do my homework so I am totally available
for him when he comes back. I do not have to worry about the evening
meal because we have an arrangement with a neighbour. She does our
shopping, and every week day she comes to the house while I'm at school
and Dad at work to cook our evening meal. On week-ends Dad and I cook
together - I love that - or we order pizza. Sometimes we go out to a
restaurant and then to see a film.

About 6.30 I start setting the table for the evening meal and, when he
rings the bell, I go and open the door for him. I take his briefcase
and put it away while he takes his coat off. He then ruffles my hair
with his hand and kisses the top of my head.

"Good evening, son."

"Good evening, Dad."

I take his hand and we go to the living room where he sits on the sofa.
I kneel next to him and pour him a glass of whisky which I put on the
coffee table next to the sofa. While he leisurely sips it I place his
legs one by one on my lap and take his shoes off. I always fill up a
little plate with peanuts or pistachios for him to enjoy and he usually
gives me some which I nibble right from his hand.

We then have dinner and talk about our respective days and activities.
While I do the washing up Dad has a shower and we settle on the sofa
for an evening of television or video.

Dad always sits on the left end of the sofa so he can rest his arm and
reach his drink or the remote on the coffee table next to him. I
usually adopt one of three positions. Sometimes I sit on the carpet
between his legs, I rest my head on his lap and he slowly runs his
fingers through my hair. Some other times I lie on the sofa and rest my
head on his lap. This feels good but does not make watching television
very easy as I soon get a sore neck.

My favourite position is to sit slightly sideways next to him and lean
against his body while he wraps his right arm around my chest. I keep
my left foot on the floor and usually spread my right leg on the sofa.
Dad slowly strokes my belly and kisses my hair as we watch the
programme.

We were sitting like this one evening when I moved and caused his hand
to slightly brush my left nipple. It made me shiver and gasp. Dad did
not say anything but he kissed my hair and stayed with his lips pressed
on the top of my head. He then deliberately brushed my nipple ever so
gently. I shivered and gasped again. He did it once more. The first two
strokes had caused my nipple to harden and it was even more sensitive
now. Dad whispered in my hair:

"Shhhhh... Relax..."

I tried to. He then put his left hand around my left nipple and his
right hand around my right nipple. He softly stroked both at the same
time. The sensation was incredible. After a few strokes he started to
make them roll gently between his thumbs and indexes. I was breathing
through my teeth with a hissing sound. Whereas my mother had beaten me
up Dad was now making me feel so good. For me, the contrast was
unbelievable and I felt an enormous surge in my love for him.

My little penis - I was 13 back then - was now fully erect. With a
little hand movement Dad instructed me to pull my right leg up the
sofa. I opened my legs as wide as possible for him and he placed his
warm hand on my crotch. Still playing with my nipples he gently fondled
my penis and testicles for about ten minutes until I had an orgasm and
came on my belly. Dad grabbed a tissue and swiftly wiped it off.

I then turned to kiss him and noticed that he had an erection under his
boxer shorts. I had seen him naked in the last few weeks but I had
never sen him hard. It seemed quite big - much bigger than my 4-incher
- but not enormous.

"Can I have a look, Dad?"

He smiled. "Help yourself, son."

I undid the three buttons of his fly and carefully brought out a
magnificent 7-inch penis. Dad is not cirumcised but because he was hard
his foreskin was pulled back and his gland out. I slid my hand inside
his fly and scooped his almost hairless testicles out. After silently
staring at the sight for at least a minute I lowered my head and kissed
it. I then rested my head on Dad's belly and started gently stroking
his penis as he had stroked mine. A few drops of precum began to ooze
out and, on an impulse, I darted my tongue out and licked them off. I
enjoyed the taste. I resumed stroking him and positioned my head so
that my mouth was only a couple of inches off his gland so I could
easily lick up any precum that came out.

After a few minutes Dad's breathing became irregular and he suddenly
came. Positioned as I was I received the first two shots right in my
mouth and the rest splashed on my face and on his belly. I was
surprised by the quantity and I found the scent exhilarating. I
swallowed what was in my mouth and really enjoyed the taste of that
too.

Dad looked happy and I was proud thinking that *I* had made him happy.
He said:

"I am sorry, son. I should have warned you."

"No problem, Dad. I really enjoyed it."

"Actually, I loved it too. Seeing it spurt in your mouth and on your
face was awesome. But you did not have to swallow."

"I did not feel I had to, Dad. I wanted to... and I loved it."

"Well, then... help yourself" he said with a smile, pointing at his
belly.

I lowered my head and started to lick his belly clean. Then I gently
lifted his now flacid penis and thoroughly licked it until all traces
of semen had gone while Dad was gently running his fingers through my
hair and encouraging me:

"Good boy. That's it, son. Lick it all up. Lick Daddy clean. I love you
Michael."

"I love you too, Dad."

I sat up in his arms and he hugged me and kissed me. I still had some
semen on my face. Dad scooped some up with a finger. He looked at me in
the eyes, winked and with a little smile presented his finger to my
mouth. I opened it. He inserted his sperm-covered finger between my
lips and I gently sucked on it. We repeated this until my face got
eventually clean.

That evening marked an important moment in my relationship with Dad. I
now suck him every single day (I have for the last three years) and we
have a non-explicit understanding that - whether he comes on my face,
his belly or wherever -  his semen must somehow end up in my mouth. We
both love it and I am so happy to be able to please Dad like this.

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Comments and suggestions welcome at: calderfrank at yahoo dot com