Date: Thu, 16 Dec 2004 13:27:06 -0800 (PST)
From: Reece Bedingfield <reecebedingfield@yahoo.com>
Subject: My Father's Legacy, Chapter 1

Author's Note: This is entirely a work of fiction.  Any resemblance to any
persons living or dead is purely coincidental.  This work is intended to be
read by persons over the age of 18 or the legal age by state or country.

Chapter 1

      It was a quiet night in the house as I lay in bed listening to the
wind blowing gently through the Live Oaks that lined the driveway leading
to the house.  Whispers of Spanish moss gently brushing the veranda outside
my room was the only thing I could hear.  I lay still in bed with
absolutely no desire for sleep to overtake me.  I don't know why I didn't
want to sleep, or at least I couldn't admit to myself why I was
purposefully forcing myself to stay awake.  If I could only admit that I
was up to no good, it would have been so much easier when my plan was
complete and I had done all I wanted to do...
      My name is Reece Bedingfield VI, and I live in a large former
plantation house about thirty miles upriver from New Orleans.  It seems a
waste to live in such a large historic home with just my dad and me as its
only occupants but my dad's father left it to him when he decided to retire
to something smaller in town when I started high school.  I say it's just
the two of us, but there are numerous people always around taking care of
the house and grounds and making sure we eat right.  My mother died during
childbirth with me eighteen years ago next week.  My father decided that he
would not remarry and raised me on his own, along with my grandfather's
help.  We lived in the city on the quiet tree lined streets of the Garden
District of New Orleans until I was a year old but dad decided that raising
a baby on his own was a little much and he moved us back to his childhood
home upriver.  Grandfather had been single for nearly forty years as my
grandmother had died when dad was a young boy.
      My father, Reece the fifth or "Mac" as he has been called since
childhood, has always been one to attract attention and stir up trouble.  I
guess, that's were I get it from.  People always rave on how much I look
like my father.  At 18, I am as tall as his six foot two in frame, but he
does have me beat on the build.  I'm still working daily to loose the
softness of childhood and develop the rock solid body my dad has.  He looks
as though he works out every single day but I guess the family genes are
good as he rarely has too.  People almost swoon as he passes them on the
busy sidewalks of New Orleans in his custom fitted clothes that hug him
like a glove.  Women, and men, are always doing a double take as he
saunters by.  At thirty-seven, he could pass for twenty five.  We are many
times mistaken for brothers rather than father and son.  I guess you can
already tell that I am infatuated with my father.  That is the reason I am
lying awake listening to the wind.  I can't sleep because the images of
what I saw last night are running through my mind like a movie on high
speed.....
	I was walking home after school yesterday from the bus-stop about a
mile up the road from my house.  I had no real plans for the afternoon.
Dad was in town at his office at the bank and wasn't due in until late.  I
walked through the gate and wandered up the long drive shaded by the Oaks
draped with shawls of ghostly moss.  It was a beautiful afternoon, and the
temperature was nearing one hundred.  I made my way into the house as
Philippe, our housekeeper, was dusting the furniture in the grand front
hallway.  I carelessly dropped off my books on the long dark dining room
table and shuffled upstairs to get out of my awful school uniform.  I
wandered into to my room and then into the adjoining bath and stripped out
of my clothes.  On my way back into my bedroom, I caught a glimpse of
myself in the full length mirror on the door and stopped.  I hadn't
realized how much the workouts had started sculpting my muscles.  My chest
was becoming more defined and sculpted, as were the washboard ridges of my
stomach.  I traced the line of blonde hair that led down the trail from my
stomach and into my tight white jockey short.  The feeling was electric and
my shorts soon began to fill with my hardening seven inch cock, yes I had
measured it regularly over the past year.  I reached down and massaged the
growing bulge in my pants and decided 'What the Hell", I was alone, why not
kill some time and enjoy myself a little.  I dropped my shorts and stroked
my hardening cock a little.  It throbbed in response.  My other hand was
busy rubbing the tight muscles of my upper thighs.  "Man," I thought, "I
need to lie down, my knees are weak."  I made my way over to my bed and lay
down.  Now I was free to totally let loose.  I closed my eyes and slowly
stroked my rock hard cock while massaging my balls with my other hand.  My
finger slowly traced down between my legs as they spread open with my knees
up and gently tickled the rosebud opening of my asshole.  Man, I was in
heaven.  I feverishly stroked my cock in a steady rhythm up and down, non
stop.  With my eyes squeezed shut, I did not see Philippe standing in the
open door that I had forgotten to close.
      I heard the floorboards of the old house creak and opened them to see
this gorgeous hunk of a Creole Man.  Philippe lived in one of the
Garconierres located on each side of the formal gardens and swimming pool
behind the main house.  Apparently these were used by bachelors in the
houses early years and are now home to Philippe in one and Julian, our
cook, in the other.  Philippe stood there with an utter look of lust in his
eyes.  He was massaging a giant bulge in his grey slacks with one hand and
supporting himself with the other hand on the door frame.  I was too
excited to be embarrassed, as I don't embarrass easily.  Instead of
covering up, I removed my hand from my cock, and with the true Bedingfield
swagger told him to come on and get it.  I've never seen the thirty year
old move that fast.  In two minutes he was naked and on next to my bed.  I
never realized how built he really was as he always worked in slacks and a
shirt and tie.  I guess I never really paid that much attention before.
Philippe stood next to my bed and reached out and slowly began to run his
hands up my blond hair covered legs.  He gently massaged my inner and outer
thighs before moving deliberately past my throbbing cock directly to my
stomach and chest.  He gently tugged my nipples to see my reaction....I
squirmed in ecstasy.  Philippe slowly leaned over and took one nipple into
his mouth and gently tugged with his teeth.  A moan of pleasure escaped my
lips as he switched to pleasure the other one.  "Mon Dieu" he whispered as
he released my nipples and made his way up to face me.  Our lips met with
the electric energy of a thousand lightning bolts striking the river.  His
tongue made its way past my lips and into my mouth.  We continued kissing
as his hands decided to explore the most important part of me.  He grasped
my throbbing cock with his strong hands and slowly stroked it until he
almost had me coming in his hand.  He must have sensed my fidgeting and
stopped, quickly releasing my organ and concentrating on my balls.  They
were large and ready for release.
      Before I knew what was happening, Philippe had straddled my hips and
in one swift movement sat directly on my erect cock burying it all the way
up his hot ass.  He did this without ever breaking our passionate kiss.  I
gasped inside his mouth as we finally broke our kiss and he sat upright.
Philippe moaned aloud as he slowly began to rise and fall on my dick.  He
would tighten his ass muscles in a way that made me squirm underneath him.
I could tell he was enjoying himself as much as I as he started moving
faster and faster.  I could hear the bed frame squeak as he increased his
speed and, in turn, increased his moans.  I was right there with him.  I
felt as though I had died and gone to heaven.  I suddenly felt the rush of
fluids begin to make the trip from my balls along the path as I suddenly
shot my seed into his hot ass.  Philippe must have felt it as well because
without even touching his large cock, he blasted stream after stream of hot
milky cum all over my stomach and chest.  When the shooting was through, he
collapsed on top of me, melding our bodies together with the warm cum.  I
had lost my breath during the orgasm but was in a euphoric state of
passion.
      Philippe lifted his self up off the bed and walked naked into the
bath.  He returned with a basin of steaming water and a cloth.  He gently
took my hand and asked "S'il vous plait..." as he guided me out of the bed
and began to wash my from head to toe.  My now flaccid teenage cock
suddenly began to fill and rise even before his first touch.  He noticed
and quickly washed my now engorged cock and then took it into his mouth and
deep down his throat.  Philippe must have been a pro because I at once
gasped and it was not long that I was shooting a fresh load down his
throat.  He then quickly finished cleaning my body, gathered his clothes
and left my room naked toward the staircase in the hall.  I collapsed on
the bad, still naked and quickly fell asleep and dreamed.
      In the dream, the man I had lusted over for years walks into my room
and takes me forcefully into his arms.  Could this be, my plan had worked
and all my dreams have come true...?

To Be Continued...

Please send your comments to ReeceBedingfield@yahoo.com