Date: Sat, 29 Sep 2012 19:49:30 +0000
From: calamity123@fido.blackberry.com
Subject: My Curious Sam 1

The following story deals with father/son incest. If this is not a part of
your fantasy life please seek other stories in the nifty archives.
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My name is Rob, Canadian, 46, and I can be reached at:
Calamity123@fido.blackberry.com
Pics are always appreciated.

This is my 25th tale. Please email me for a complete list on nifty.

My Curious Sam Part 1

He was at that perfect age for boys - a few years into schooling, still
full of piss and vinegar but old enough to understand consequences. His
mind was active, always asking, "why this, daddy", "why that". The love of
nature and all things crawly and slimey was evidenced by the mud and grass
caked to his skin. Even under his shirt or up his pant legs. It was a
wonder to me.

    Blonde haired, blue-eyed, lithe, with an angelic face that belied the
devil he could stir up. He's all grown-up now. A strapping near-6 foot
man. He's just finishing his shower before he jots some notes down and
joins me in bed. My sweet son. But this is his story.



My name is Sam. For as long as I can remember I've idolized my dad. So
would any of you. He's a beefy hairy mountain of a man. Tall. Strong. And
with piercingly hypnotic brown eyes. A hero to any boy. Just to watch him
play sports was a joy to behold. Graceful and strong with muscles that
rippled with every twist of his magnificent form.

    Dad and I often bathed together when I was barely able to walk. It
stopped at some point - probably a complaint from 'head office'. But I
never forgot it and vowed that it would happen again.

    Then the fates conspired in my favour. Mom was off looking after my
aunts kids while she had another kid. The seventh! I mean, really, there
ought to be a limit. Baptists - go figure!

    Dad hated when I came home caked in guck so I kinda kept it to a
minimum - at least for me. He was usually sitting on the couch in jockeys
and a t-shirt reffing the game very loudly. Dad didn't drink much and could
nurse a beer to flatness but I secretly loved that he considered underwear
the appropriate attire for his team. I always wondered what lay hidden in
the promise of that pouch. I know we had bathed when I was a kid but,
frankly, the tugboat in front of me was more interesting than what sat
behind.

    By now I'd changed.

    The game was down to the final seconds but you know how football
goes. Those last seconds could take forever in the hell of set-up and
instant replay.

    Dad never averted his eyes from the screen. "Bath", he instructed.

    I bowed in mockery. "To hear is to obey".

    He looked over grimacing his face into a ferocious glare as he shook a
fist in my direction.

    "Yeah, pops, I'm trembling". My feet hit the stairs running.

    Dad looked back at the screen as he sipped the beer through his bemused
smirk. "Why does warm beer always taste like a laxative?" he mused. The
seconds played out. Glancing at the cat he offered, "If they'd listened to
me they would've won".  He stood, stretched, then made his way
upstairs. Passing the open bathroom door he caught sight of his son just
lowering into the bath. "Since when don't you close the door?"

    I looked over my shoulder. "Aw, pops, it's just us. Who cares?"

    Dad sort of laughed at this. "And cut out the 'pops' stuff. I just got
used to 'dad'." Stepping in he continued, "It wasn't so long ago you used
to call me 'daddy'. 'Dad' I agree to. 'Pops' is out!"

    I giggled.

    He looked at the pile of muddy clothes on the tiles. "You know what
your mother would say if she saw that".

    So I gave the pile a shrug. "Good thing she's not here then". Suddenly
I found my head in a half-nelson which elicited a squeal of surprise and
delight.

    "Ya think you're a comic, hunh?" his dad said while adding a ferocious
'Grrr" to the headlock. Releasing his son and lowering to his knees he
began to gather the discarded clothing. "How you can get so dirty is beyond
me", he muttered.

    I looked over eye level with my hero. "Dad?"

    "Hmm?"

    "Why don't we have baths anymore?"

    Dad turned out the pockets of the jeans. "What are you talking about,
Sam? You're having a bath now".

    "No. I mean us. You and me". I watched dad furrow his brow as he stared
at me. "Why don't we have baths together?"

    Dad gave a smirk. "Don't ya think you're getting a little old to want a
bath with me?"

    I looked back at the water as my knees were brought up wrapping my arms
about them. "I suppose".

    Dad took his fingers and thumb squeezing the nape of his sons
neck. "Well, don't ya think so?"

    Another sigh from me. The shoulders shrugged. "We never get to do
anything fun anymore".

    Dad chuckled. "You think having a bath with me as fun?"

    "Well, yeah, kinda".

    Dads other hand touched Sams arm as he cocked his head to one side
trying to catch the boys eye. "You and me in the tub at the same time?"

    Another sigh from the lad.

    The bear stood up. "Scoot forward", he said pulling off the t-shirt,
"I'm coming in!"

    Water sloshed as I moved up towards the faucet. Delighted but awfully
curious I steeled myself from looking back. In seconds his knees rested on
either wall of the tub. Paws grabbed my shoulders swimming my back to his
torso as he wrapped me in a bear hug.

    "Better?" As my hands gripped his forearms he nuzzled my neck. "We just
won't tell mom, okay?"

    "Okay". My head tilted as he gave my neck a kiss or two. I suddenly
felt everything was in its proper place. An emptiness I didn't fully
comprehend was gone. Vanished. I never knew there was emptiness until I
felt full. Complete. Safe in daddys arms. My body wriggled as if I could
get closer still.

    Dad heaved a heavy sigh. "You're right. This is fun".

    For moments (minutes?) we were wrapped in a coccoon of just being
together.  His arms secured me to him. Then he pulled the face cloth out of
the water. The coarse material began to slide back and forth over my chest
as his other arm reached up, the hand gripping my far shoulder. I remained
in a bear hug.

    "Feel better now?". His low voice was like waves on my neck.

    My sigh was now one of contentment. The base of my skull pressed into
his upper left pec. The cloth took a broader route as it not only took in
my chest but my tummy. Occasionally the material was resoaked. It felt
luxurious.

    "I love you, Sam", he whispered. "I'm so proud of you. I just feel so
lucky to have you in my life".

    The wet cloth continued to soothe. His breath on my neck delighted. My
mind drifted into a blissful state of nothingness. As he leaned me forward
he gave me gentle kisses all across my shoulders - from one end to the
other then back again. Lips pursed, applying soft pressure then showing up
in another spot.

    "Oh, wow!" I suddenly exclaimed.

    Dad stopped. "What?" he asked full of concern.

    Using his knees as leverage I stood up somewhat shakey. His hands
immediately steadied me by holding my upper thighs. "What are ya doing,
Sam?"

    I turned around facing him. Looking down at my mid-section I
stared. "It's happened again!"

    "What?" But then dad followed my gaze. My thin pale hard-on bobbed in
front of his face. My balls matched my knob - both a warm pinkish
colour. The bag was loose from the warm bath; my tiny balls away from my
dick as far as they could go. "You have a hard-on". It was an observation.

    "Hunh? This has happened before!"

    "Well, don't get nervous. All guys get them. When your penis fills with
blood it gets erect. Hard. Just like now". He rubbed the back of two
fingers along the underside. "It's perfectly normal".

    "Honest?"

    Dad looked up offering a smile. "Cross my heart".

    Crouching down my knees rested on his upper thighs as my hands steadied
myself on his shoulders. "Does yours?"

    "It happens to every guy. It's a male thing".

    Brazenly I looked down between us; between his legs. At last I had the
answer to what was hidden before. His cock was fat, purplish, wrinkled. It
looked heavy. The knob was slick and darker than the rest. The balls were
obscured but the hair was evident. It complimented the rest of his hairy
front. "But yours isn't hard now".

    "Well, I don't walk around with a hard-on, you know".

    "Then why is mine hard?"

    He ran his hands up my back to my shoulders. "Youth". He chuckled at my
confusion. "You can get a hard-on for all kinds of reasons: from waking up
to being excited to wearing tight shorts. For now it's just gonna show up
when it wants to". He kissed my nose. "So don't worry about. Okay?"

    My smile assured him I wouldn't. Then I looked at him seriously. "I'm
glad you're my dad".

    "Mmm. So'm I".

    I looked back down between us. "Can you show me your hard-on?"

    "No".

    "How come?"

    He offered by way of explanation, "Because I'm not hard".

    I grinned then waved a fist in his face.  "One of these days . . . "

    Dad leaned back and laughed loudly at my mockery.



After drying I grabbed dads t-shirt putting it on. The towel began a rough
tumble through my hair.

    Dad dried slowly staring at me. "That's what you're gonna wear?"

    Nodding my head I uttered, "And nothing else".

    He mumbled to himself, "You get more like your mother everyday".

    So I offered up an imitation. The towel was turbanned around my head as
my wrists flopped about. "Take out the trash", I squeaked. "Feet off the
coffee table. Put away your tools. Don't even think about putting that in
my mouth".

    "What?" Dad stared at me dumbfounded. "Where did you hear that last
one?"

    "Going to the bathroom in the middle of the night".

    Dad was awed. "What else did you hear?"

    "Nothing. I had to go to the bathroom", I shrugged unwrapping the
towel.

    "You do beat all".

    "What're we having for dinner?"



After supper we curled up on the sofa and watched tv. It was wonderful
being enfolded in those great tree-trunk arms. His breathing was steady,
even, calming. With my head against the soft down of his chest I fell
asleep.