Date: Sat, 6 Apr 2013 02:14:19 -0400
From: Nate Lastname <natelastname@gmail.com>
Subject: My Own Flesh and Blood 1

Even though these things should go without saying, I feel that I should
include them out of paranoia alone, if nothing else:

This author does not engage in, nor condone sexual acts with a minor. This
is to be read by people of age 18 and up, and if it is illegal in your area
(for whatever reason, is that true anywhere?) to read such things, then you
should probably make yourself scarce because I will not be responsible for
you being stoned to death, or whatever it is that happens in your savage
backwater country. Any resemblance of real life characters or events is
purely coincidental, obviously. Lastly, this is my first story, on nifty or
anywhere else, so I'd like some feedback. Be very critical! You can email
me at natelastname@gmail.com if you want.


	He writhed on his bed, toes curling ecstatically under the sheets
that had been mostly thrown aside. The head of perfect brown hair bobbing
over his midsection was mesmerizing in its slow and deliberate motion. The
obvious lack of skill in this area only enhanced the experience, rather
than detracting from it.

	"Like that?" His only son asked tentatively, his breath making the
head of his father's penis tingle just a little bit.

	"Uh-huh," He says breathlessly, unable to articulate anything of
more substance. In reality, it was one of the worst blowjobs he had ever
received, but that somehow made it the best. His child's ineptitude was
intoxicating. He looked down once more at his wonderful boy, and squinted
as he tried to read his forehead. "Hey buddy... What do you mean six
fifty-nine?" In response, Gavin lifts his mouth off of his Dad's lightly
pulsing erection and opens his mouth to speak, only a shrill screech
leaving his mouth.

	"Jesus fucking..!" He sat bolt upright in bed, flailing aimlessly
in a sleep-addled attempt to turn off his alarm, which screamed petulantly
from his bedside table. It seemed fitting that the only thing his ex-wife
left in the house, apart from their son, was the thing that made him the
most miserable in the morning. That, of course, was if you didn't count his
suffocating sexual frustration.

	Looking down, he exhaled grumpily as he pulled the wet sheets from
his groin, soaked through with his wasted seed. Balling them up before he
threw them into the bathroom, he resigned to throw them into the wash
before he left for work.

	This morning was the same as every morning for the past two weeks,
with his neglected cock spewing its rebellion all over his laundry because
of his most forbidden thoughts. No good parent can think of their son this
way, he thought to himself. But he was a good parent. He took full custody,
working a full time job at a car rental agency, talking to confused
tourists and cranky Europeans, supervising idiots half his age and half as
competent, all so he could spend enough time with his son and prevent him
from climbing a bell tower naked and carrying a sniper rifle.

	He shook his head, pulling his boxers off and throwing them after
the sheets. They landed on the white tile floor with a disgusting 'slik!'
sound. There was sound outside his room. He simply assumed it was Gavin
leaving his room to forage for some manner of breakfast. His heart nearly
stopped when his doorknob jiggled slightly, in preparation to allow the
house's other occupant in.

	"Dad, we're out of milk, can you get some when you come home?" His
son walked through the doorway carelessly, causing Jason to flinch, trying
to find something to cover his still mostly hard dick. Grabbing at his
desk, he pulls the mouse pad away from the surface and mashes it onto his
groin hurriedly.

	"Jesus, Gav! Do me a favor and knock!" He snaps, backing up against
the wall. Gavin gasps, rushing out of the room and closing the door.

	"Sorry! I thought you were still in bed!" Gavin's voice was rushed,
a ton all too familiar to Jason. That's the "I think I'm in trouble so
talking faster to explain myself will save me" voice.

	"It's okay, just-- Just knock, alright?" He calls back through the
door. "Just go get ready for school, I'll make us some pancakes." He
receives no response, likely because the boy was so preoccupied by his
embarrassment that he just left the hallway to wait in apprehensive silence
for his father to arrive and, as far as Gavin is concerned, give him a
stern and awkward lecture. This, of course, would not happen, but that
childish fear of admonishment takes so long to fade.

	He got into the shower, not giving himself time to dwell on his
dreams. How he wished that his son had stayed in the room, wrenched the
mouse pad away from his cock and that they would stay in bed all day having
the most fulfilling sex he had had since conceiving Gavin. Unfortunately,
his life was not written by some erotica author on the internet, or in the
forums he visited before hastily clearing his browser history out of
misguided paranoia.

	Getting out from under the spray, he quickly shaved his face. His
ritual was as it always was; another dream, another lonely shower, cook
breakfast and get his son ready for school, and then go to work at a boring
and unfulfilling job. He reflected idly on his increasingly uninspiring
life as he flipped pancakes, sloppily spilling batter onto the stove.

	"Dad?" The faintly high voice came from behind him, unbroken by
puberty.

	"Yeah, buddy?" He barely glances in the direction of his child,
staring at the stovetop in a half-asleep stupor.

	"You've been flipping the same pancake for 25 minutes and I'm late
for school." He says, clearly hoping against hope that his father will just
call it off for the day and stay home with him and watch movies and play
games, like he did when Gavin was little (much to his mother's annoyance).

	"Fuck!" He scowled, turning the stove off and snatching up his
coat. "Get your stuff; I'll give you some money for the cafeteria." He
gives his son a light pat on the butt, trying to nudge him in the right
direction toward the door. His son grumbled and groaned, but ultimately
complied, shuffling his feet toward the door in defeat.

	The ride to school was silent. Jason hated silent car rides. Gavin
was at that age where the poor single father assumed that they were
drifting apart because terrible TV shows convinced him that his son will
start hating him with the onset of puberty. At least he could take the
opportunity to take sideways glances at Gavin. I did pretty good work, he
mused to himself as he covertly admired his own features reflected in that
of his 11 year-old passenger.

	His son had shaggy brown hair, which he preferred to let grow out
slightly (much against the desires of his father), pale skin that had lost
its color over the long New England winter, and soft brown eyes that always
looked half closed and sleepy. He had grown in height over the last few
months, but was still a slave to his diminutive height until puberty. Jason
almost looked forward to the pubescent awkwardness of too-big hands and
feet, head being all ears and nose, long legs, gangly arms. There was
something very appealing about that fresh, developmental stage. He shook
his head slightly, returning his eyes to the road.

	Does he jack off yet, he wondered. He tried not to think about his
son in that way, knowing that even a mild erection would show very easily
through his loose-fitting work pants. He ran his hand through his short
brown hair in frustration. He was thankful to have had Gavin at 20, for
that softened the difficulty of the age gap. He regretted that his role as
the cool parent had ended with his marriage. As much as it pained him, he
had become something of a hard-ass over the past couple years. It was for
the good of his child, something that came into his mind frequently
whenever his hidden desires reared their ugly head.

	"Bye, dad." Gavin said shortly, grabbing his backpack from the back
seat and moving to shut the door.

	"I love y—," Jason was interrupted as the door was shut
abruptly, and his son went to go talk with his friends in front of the tree
before the bell. He sighed and pulled away from the curb, on his way to
work. He longed for the days of kindergarten, where `daddy' (he missed that
word) would always get a hug and a kiss before hopping out of the car with
his bag lunch. There was no sexual component to this, but he could not help
feeling that his son was drifting away from him, as all kids seem to.

	He got to work and answered hundreds of driveling emails about
nothing, the inane little questions from his underlings and talked to so
many dissatisfied customers. After his last phone call, a particularly
angry German woman that had (of course!) not gotten the specific car that
she wanted for her vacation, and was aggressively yelling in his ear in
order to rectify this; he grabbed his coat and left the office with a
sulk. He picked up a pizza for dinner, as he did every Friday, and rented a
movie from Red Box for them to watch while they ate. The standard
blockbuster superhero movie was a common sight in their house, and he
stuffed it in his pocket before making his way home.

	"I'm home, bud!" He called from the front door, getting no
response. He put the pizza on the coffee table and went to his son's
bedroom door.

	"I know, I've just never done that before..." His son's mousy
little voice could be heard from inside the room. A faint voice could be
heard in response, distorted by whatever it was coming through. Could he be
on the phone? Jason grabbed the door handle and opened the door, resulting
in a flurry of frantic motion on the part of his young son. He clicked
rapidly, closing some window on his computer screen, turning around with a
start.

	"Hey Gav... Whatcha doing'?" Jason raised an eyebrow suspiciously,
looking at his son's computer screen, which now displayed some innocuous
Wikipedia article, clearly as a cover (he was born in the morning, but not
THIS morning).

	"Oh, uh... Nothing. I didn't hear you come home. I'll be out in a
few minutes, okay? I'm just finishing something for school." He obviously
couldn't get his dad out of the room fast enough.

	"Okay, but hurry up. Pizza's getting cold and you have all
weekend." He closed the door slowly. Before he lost sight of the computer,
he noticed the little red light flickering on his son's webcam. Someone was
watching. He walked calmly to the living room, but his thoughts were
racing. At what point was it acceptable to invade his son's privacy? What
if he is talking to some pervert? His cheeks flush. Pervert isn't a word he
should throw around as if he hadn't spent his entire 15 minute break in a
bathroom stall fantasizing.

	"Hey, sorry about that. I guess it's only fair since I walked in on
you this morning." Gavin walked out of his room, sitting next to him. He
was trying to hide it, but his cheeks were flushed with embarrassment,
Jason could tell. He resolved to leave it alone for the moment. They ate
pizza in relative silence as the movie played, occasionally commenting and
joking.

	After the movie, the two dragged themselves to their respective
rooms after muttering parting words to each other. The movie had run longer
than expected, and both their eyelids were beginning to drag toward the
floor. Of course, the nice thing about nights was that he could masturbate
in relative privacy. The fact that he didn't have work tomorrow was
certainly pleasing as he started to pull his shirt off. He heard the
annoying `click' of the door not quite shutting, but didn't bother with
it. The only other person in the house had gone to bed already.

	He lay down on his bed fully naked, looking down his body. He had
always tried to stay in shape, but lately his definition had somewhat faded
due to lack of time. He had always been on the muscular side, so it was
never hard to stay in shape. His abdominal muscles were less defined than
they were, but were still distinct. His biceps and pectoral muscles were at
least something he could be proud of. It always surprised him how much
rearing a child could sometimes be a work out, so his arms stayed fairly
well exercised. He had always bemoaned his lack of an ass, but the abnormal
flatness when compared to the rest of his body was something he was able to
live with. His cock was nothing lethal, but of a fair size. It filled his
hand nicely and was just a bit over seven inches long. He had been
circumcised, and was thankful for it. His exposed plump head rested lightly
against his abdominal muscles, curving upward tightly. It was nestled
underneath very neatly trimmed pubic hair, cut short and carefully
managed. His balls were somewhat larger in terms of proportion to his
shaft. Despite their size, they hung closely to his dick, and were shaved
regularly. It always depressed him to think that they would succumb to
gravity in his later years. By and large, his body hair was often shaved,
or trimmed in the case of his pubic region. He preferred the clean and
youthful appearance of smooth skin.

	The thoughts that he couldn't get off his had caused his dick to
stiffen before he had really gotten off the couch. The only question in his
mind was `Am I really going to jack off to my 11 year-old?'. After five
more minutes of lying on his bed in silence, bothered by his erection, he
knew that the answer was yes.

	His hand tightened slightly as he closed his eyes and imagined his
son slowly shedding his clothes. First his Pac-Man t-shirt hit the floor,
revealing his youthful but developing torso. His arms were still somewhat
spindly but showing what could become a fair amount of muscle. His skin was
still fair and hairless, aside from his forearms. Next his too-low jeans
were unbuttoned and slowly pulled down as his naked father watched with
anticipation. They slid down his slim legs, pooling at his feet before he
clumsily stepped out of them using a hand on the bed to steady him. His
erection could clearly be seen through his striped boxer shorts, which hung
loose on him as well.

	He imagined scooting down the bed and pulling his son between his
legs on top of him, so that they lay chest to chest. Their hard cocks
mashed together slightly, Gavin's small one dwarfed by his
father's. Jason's hands slowly move down his son's back, reaching toward
the forbidden thing that he had been dreaming about for weeks. As soon as
he felt the slope of Gavin's ass, he stopped. The Real Jason grumbled in
frustration. Even in his own fantasy, he hesitated. Squeezing the base of
his cock slightly harder, he rubbed his thumb across the head to spread his
precum over the velvety skin of his glans.

	Returning to his fantasy, he pushed his hands under the waistband
of Gavin's boxers, not yet pulling them off and exposing the milky skin
underneath. He squeezed the cheeks in his hand a little, playing with them
as his kid's head lay on his chest, kissing it. He felt his left index
finger brush against something that no father should ever touch, but it
kept going, probing that most private area. Gavin clenched tightly in
surprise, his entire body tensing up against his father. Jason brings his
finger to his mouth, licking it thoroughly before lowering it back down,
careful not to wipe the saliva off accidentally on the underwear that still
preserved Gavin's modesty. Slowly, he begins to push against the vice-like
ring of muscle. After some effort, his finger slipped—

	Jason sat bolt upright with a start, hand still gripping his
leaking dick harder than is probably healthy. He heard a creak at his
door. He could not help but sit as still as he could, watching the door
like a hawk for any sign of movement. So intent was he on his watch that he
neglected to cover himself. After several minutes, there seemed to be no
change. As he relaxed, he realized that his penis was begging for the
circulation it rightly deserved. He loosened his grip a little, slowly
lying back down. It had likely been that his paranoia about his perverted
thoughts was making him too alert. Anyway, where was he...

	After some effort, his finger slipped in, eliciting a moan from his
son. He looked down and Gavin's eyes were clenched tightly shut, as was his
jaw (and his ass). He pulled out his finger, instead rolling over so that
he is on top of the boy. He slowly pulls the boxers down, his eyes not
leaving his son's blushing face as he exposes his kid's soft body. The
boy's penis was as expected, coming along nicely at a respectable four and
a half inches. It was so hard that it could have cut glass. In reality, he
would have tended to his son's erection first, in an attempt to make the
experience as pleasurable for him as possible. However, in Jason's fantasy,
his own needs came first.

	Straddling his son, he walked on his knees until his throbbing
penis pushed against his lips expectantly. Naturally, his fantasy son took
it in his mouth immediately and swished his tongue along the head and shaft
as it passed, heading further and further before stopping, unable to pass
the barrier of his tight throat just yet. His son moaned erotically... No,
that is not right. He frowned, realizing he had done far too much reading
about this subject on the internet, where things tend to teeter on the side
of unrealistic... His son gagged (much better...) on his sizable cock,
unable to take more than a few inches of the shaft. The upward curve of his
cock worked against them as he tried to get himself deeper into the warm,
wet mouth. They would have to—

	He groaned unexpectedly, his dick twitching and convulsing as it
spewed cum all over his chest and stomach. He was annoyed that his session
had been cut short, but he only had himself to blame. He felt like a
high-schooler all over again, wiping premature semen from his chest. He
wished that there were someone with him that would be willing to lick him
clean, but he knew it was impossible. The bathroom sink was a poor
substitute, but he half-heartedly got off the bed to return to it once
again. He stepped over the wadded sheets from his bed this morning that he
had forgotten to run through the wash, and the remains of that morning's
wasted load before washing up at the sink, wiping his cum from his body
with a wad of toilet paper.

	His mouth was so dry that he thought it was covered in dust. He had
a habit of sucking in air through his mouth when he masturbated; something
that always resulted in a dry mouth after the deed was done. He donned a
fresh pair of underwear before he walked to the door, opening it without
much thought to his state of dress. By this time, his son was definitely
asleep. He wandered to the refrigerator and removed a water bottle,
bringing it back to his bedroom with him.

Jason could not help but peek into Gavin's room to check on him (a holdover
from the age when it was actually necessary, or possibly for reasons he
didn't want to admit to himself), and was not surprised to see him fast
asleep in his bed, the covers rising and falling steadily with his son's
breath. Pulling the bedroom door closed, he returned to his room and
settled in to watch Netflix before his inevitable unconsciousness.



TO BE CONTINUED