Date: Tue, 3 Oct 2006 18:10:10 -0700 (PDT)
From: James Spaulding <fathercandy@yahoo.com>
Subject: Not Just His Grandpa, Part 2

The following story is a piece of fiction.  If suggestions of incest offend
you please do not read. If you enjoyed this story, feel free to contact me
at fathercandy@yahoo.com.  There is more to come...


Not Just His Grandpa, Part 2


I walked to my grandson's room.  I knocked on the door, worried that I
might once again walk in on some tryst or another.  No answer.  I entered
Peter's room; it was empty.  I took a moment to look at myself in the
mirror.  The gentleman I imagined myself seemed to have gone the way of the
dinosaur.  I was disheveled.  I had a wet spot on my trousers.  And there
was another conspicuous wet spot on the front of my shirt.  I could only
assume that Jamal's ejaculation was greater than I remembered, great enough
to shoot all the way to my discarded shirt.

Good thing Peter was still out and about.  I searched for my toiletry bag,
found a towel, and walked to the bathroom.  As I entered, a wall of steam
met me.  The showers were busy.  I walked in, my towel draped around my
shoulder.  Two of the three shower stalls were taken.  As I began to
undress, I heard a familiar voice.

'Hey Grandpa.  I guess you had a nice time; I lost track of you sometime
around midnight."

"I ... uh.... I did have a nice time.  There are some fine gentlemen in
this house."

"Yep.  And I'm one of them."

For the sake of conversation, Peter had shoved the shower curtain aside.
He stood there, talking to me, even as he was soaping up his crotch.  His
cock, even though it was not now erect, remained impressive.  As I had
observed earlier, my grandson was hung.  His eyes were closed as he rinsed
the soap out of his hair.  This was my opportunity to look and to admire.
Big dick.  Yes.  But he also had a fine chest, a nice trail of blond hair,
growing thicker as it moved to his crotch.  I found myself longing to see
his ass, hoping he would turn around or some movement of his would move the
curtain just that much more.  I was hoping...

And then I was overwhelmed by guilt.  What was I thinking?  I had just
fucked a young colored boy; I had the semen stains to prove it.  And now I
was lusting after my own grandson.  It was not possible.  Surely I had had
too much to drink.  Still, I would not - and could not - be this affected
by testosterone and alcohol.

Just as I finished undressing and began to move to the empty shower stall,
Peter shut off his shower and stepped out of the stall.  He reached for his
towel and began to dry himself.  He turned his back to me and - God help me
- I stared at his ass as long as I could without him noticing.  My first
glance was furtive.  But my glances grew in their intensity and their
length.  The boy had a perfect ass.  Hairy.  Firm.  And as impressed as I
had been with Jamal's ass, I couldn't help but think my grandson's ass was
better.  His lacrosse training was having a profound affect on the boy I
had once known.  He had grown up, but he had become more beautiful, more
muscular, and more manly.

Though I had just shot an impressive load an hour earlier, my 68 year old
cock was moving toward attention; I needed to get into the shower fast.

"Hey, Grandpa..."  Peter turned towards me.  I moved as quickly as I could,
hoping my burgeoning erection would not be noticed. "Remember, you get the
bed.  I'll be happy taking the floor."

I grunted something in response as I hurried into the shower and closed the
curtain behind me.

"Gramps?  You've been working out.  All that running and stuff is doing you
well.  Are you sure you're not training for the lacrosse season?"

I tried to laugh in response.  But my sense of humor - like my sense of
decorum - had left me.  I was not pleased with myself.  I hated the
erection that was now complete.  And I was terrified that for some reason
my grandson would look in on me as I stood there, hoping a cold shower
would do what every clich^Â says it does.

"Hey?  Grandpa?"  And my worst nightmare was coming true.  Peter opened the
shower curtain.  And I was in all of my glory.  Glory that embarrassed the
hell out of me.  But scared me even more.  It tried to turn away from him.

"Grandpa?  Do you always take cold showers?"

"Uh...I..."

"Or are you just horned up? All those sorority sisters and their pretty
dresses.  You can't fool me..."

I sure hoped I could.  "No.  I just hate to go to bed all sweaty...I...."

"Grandpa, you don't have to get all embarrassed.  As I remember, you walked
in on me this afternoon.  THAT was embarrassing.  I mean, you changed my
diaper, and I doubt you've seen me naked since then.  Amanda just about
died. But I figured it's what guys do.  So I kinda dealt with it.  I mean,
you were young once.  If I can act like nothing happened, you can too.  Got
it?"

I mumbled something in assent.  I appreciated his cavalier attitude, but it
didn't do anything to my erection or my guilt.

"I'll see you in the room....You better not snore."

Snoring was the least of my concerns.

I heard the other shower shut off.  The shower curtain opened.  And I heard
another voice.  This one a bit less familiar but familiar nonetheless.

"Paul?  Is that you?"

It was John Peterman, the older gentleman I had seen at the party.  The one
who left with the young man, after surreptisuously grabbing his crotch in
the middle of a frat house.

I opened the shower curtain.  My erection had succumbed to my guilt by this
time.  I was not going to embarrass myself any more.

"How are you, John?  It's been a while."

John was drying off.  And, damn, if that man hadn't put some effort into
his body.  What?  Were all the men I was going to see this weekend going to
be attractive.  I did not need an all male weekend, especially when Jamal
had already lit a fire that I had doused some ten years earlier.

"What are you doing here, John?

"Oh.  I'm visiting my nephew.  Burl.  He's a junior this year.  I sure am
proud of him.  He is doing what the family does best.  Excelling at
academics."

Burl?  That was the name of the young man whose crotch John had furtively
fondled.  Was he messing around with his nephew?

"Burl?  I'm not sure I've met him."

"Oh, we left the party early.  We don't see each other near enough.  We
needed some time to catch up."

Catch up, my ass.  You needed some time for something other than
conversation.

What sort of world had I entered?  Uncles fucking their nephews?  Black
boys getting fucked by white men old enough to be their grandfathers?


John had been working out.  He was solid, hairy, and still maintained a
full head of hair.  I shut off my shower and reached for my towel.  My dick
had succumbed to guilt, but it was still big enough to impress the sort of
man who would be impressed by a large semi-flaccid cock.  John looked.  I
caught him looking.  And he smiled.

"Looking good, Paul.  Damn good."

"Thanks.  Old guys like us need to take care of ourselves."

"Old guys like us?  If I remember correctly, I am at least five years
younger than you.  I am far from hitting my old years.  Hell, I still get a
woody two or three times a day."  And with those words his towel no longer
covered his crotch.  His penis was nice, it was, like mine semi-flaccid.
Were I to be the kind of guy who was impressed I would have been impressed.
Unfortunately, I was still doing my damnedest to not be impressed.

"Me, too."  As I used my towel to hide the fact that I was, once again,
getting a full on "woody" talking to John.  Was lust never going to leave?
Had it made a permanent residence in my body this weekend?  Was I going to
be in a permanent state of the hornies?  (That's what Peter and his friends
call it.  I call it damn embarrassing for a man my age.)

"Paul?  You look like you got one right now.  A right nice woody."

Again.  Speechless.  I couldn't even mumble.

"I could help you with that.  I got an adorable nephew who just can't get
enough cock.  Hell, he seduced me when he was 13.  And, as appalled as I
was by the seeming pedophilia, the boy never was satisfied.  He had me fuck
him every chance he got.  I soon found myself going out of my way to
increase those chances.  He's my boy.  And he sure loves to get fucked."

Still speechless.  But I was in complete control of my movements.  I
wrapped my towel around my waste, picked up my clothes, and followed Paul
to his nephew's room.

Burl was already asleep, but that had no bearing on John's actions.

"Get up, Boy.  I got someone for you."

Burl got up, wiped the sleep from his eyes, and smiled.  His smile spoke
volumes.  Even half asleep, he knew what he wanted.

"Take your towel off, Paul.  Show him what you got."  He turned his
attention from me to his nephew.  "It's impressive, Burly.  Are you ready
to get fucked by another big cock?"

"Uncle...."

He never finished his sentence.  John pulled him out of the bed.  "Get your
lube, Boy.  I have a feeling Mr. Eggert loves to fuck pretty boy holes.
Get it ready for him."

Burl just looked at his uncle. And did what he was told.

I was hard, but got harder watching the power dynamic.  The boy -really, he
was already a man - was totally submissive.  His uncle called the shots,
and he responded.

"How do you want to take him, Paul?"

I found my voice.  "I want to fuck him doggy style."

"On your knees, Boy.  My friend is going to teach you a lesson or two.  Got
it?"

"Yes, Sir."

With an intensity and adoration that I have rarely seen, Burl squeezed the
tube of lube and applied it to my penis.  His gaze and his attentions told
me he wanted it.  My boner told me I wanted it.  Twice in one night?  It
was no longer just the alcohol.  It was something deep inside me, something
that Jamal had released.  Something I had no desire to control.  Guilt be
damned.

Burl got down on his hands and knees.  His hole was lubed.  My cock was
lubed.  I was ready to go.

"He likes to get fucked hard, Paul.  Treat him like a pig, and he's happy."

I treated him like a pig.  I slid my erection into his ass with no regard
for his hole.  I just fucked and fucked and fucked.  And as my hard cock
was sliding in and out of his hole, his uncle stood before him, removed his
towel, revealing a nice cock - smaller than mine but nicely formed,
uncircumcised, but definitely ready to go.  Burl began to suck his uncle's
cock as I fucked him from behind.  In no time at all John's cock was
precluding Burl's ability to moan in response to my fucking.  The poor boy
was being used hard.  The poor boy was in heaven.

He took his uncle's cock from his mouth.  'Yes, Mr. Eggert, fuck me.  Fuck
me.  I want your cum to shoot deep inside of me."

"Paul, he likes to have his hole filled with cum.  I've already filled him
twice this weekend.  I consider it an honor to have your seed meet my
seed."  He winked at me as he said this.  I just got more turned on.

I kept fucking him, tried to hold back, but soon my load was released.  I
can only assume I shot deep inside him.  My orgasm was as intense as it had
been when I had fucked Jamal.  And that orgasm was accompanied by lots of
semen.

No sooner had I cum and pulled out my cock, and Burl stopped sucking his
uncle's cock.

"Mr. Eggert, would you hold my uncle?"

"Excuse me?"

"Just grab his arms.  Hold him."

I got up.  If Burl's demands shocked his uncle, the shock was not apparent.
I went to John, who looked at me with a look of lust I had never seen
before.  It was as if his personality was changing.  His cock stayed hard,
by he went limp in my arms.

"Hold him down."  I held him.  Burl got up, lubed his impressive cock, and
pulled his uncle's legs out.  John was on his back.  I had his arms.  And
Burl was lubing his hole."

"Uncle John loves to get fucked, but he wants to imagine he only gets
fucked when he's forced.  We're going to force him..."

John was beside himself.  Fear?  Desire?  I couldn't figure it out until
his nephew's cock slid inside him.

"You like this John, don't you?  Always thinking I am your little pig boy.
You're the pig bottom. You fucking slut.  Take it now.  Take all of me."

John took all of Burl.  From my perspective I could only admire the boy's
virility.  A solid body.  A beautiful cock.  And, damn, he knew how to use
it.  His uncle was being fucked like a pro.  The boy was slamming him hard.
His uncle moaned.  His uncle squirmed. His erection was full, complete, and
spoke of his desire.  And still the boy had control.

"Fuckin' pig.  Mr. Eggert, make him suck your cock.  It still tastes like
my ass and his load.  Force it.  Come on.  He likes it."

I took John's face and force fed him my cock.  He gagged and then his mouth
went to work.  He was an avid cocksucker.  He was an avid bottom.  This man
was meant to please.  And please he did.

His nephew pulled out of his ass and told me to turn his uncle around.  I
conceded.  John willingly moved so that his mouth was on his nephew's cock.

"Come on, Uncle.  Suck it.  Come on.  Taste your ass.  Taste my cock."

And as his nephew was abusing him, John shot his load.  His nephew reached
for it and force fed his uncle his uncle's cum.  John tried to refuse.  He
pretended to refuse.  But he was soon eating his own cum with relish.  And
just as his uncle finished licking his own cum from Burl's fingers, Burl
shot his load.  Without any force or pretense John greedily swallowed his
nephew's cum.  He gagged.  Some of the boy's load spilled from his uncle's
mouth, but John went back to work.  And when Burl was done shooting, John
used his fingers to clean off his bearded chin, once again eating semen
with relish, this time, the semen of his nephew.

Nephew and uncle caught their breath.  And then Burl bent down towards his
uncle.  He kissed him tenderly.

"Did you like that, Uncle John?"

His uncle, still catching his breath, could only nod and smile.  But he
happily returned his nephew's kiss.

I was spent.  Two orgasms in one night.  Two boy asses in one night.  I was
ready for bed.

In a rather uncomfortable fashion I said good night.  Found my towel and my
clothes and moved to the door.

"Hey, Mr. Eggert.  You're almost as well hung as your grandson.  Must be
genetic."

Again, I was speechless.  What was it with this younger generation?  Was
nothing sacred?

As I closed the door behind me, I caught the hypocrisy in my thought.
Sacred?  I had fucked a black boy.  I had fucked a young man and then later
held his uncle down so he could fuck him.  I had participated in a
debauchery I had never known before.  Nothing was sacred anymore.

For the second time that night, I made my way to my grandson's room.