Date: Thu, 26 Feb 2009 12:55:07 -0800 (PST)
From: dws202 <dws202@yahoo.com>
Subject: Object of My Desire 3

This is a work of my own from my own recollections and fantasies, all the
usual warnings and disclosures about such material apply. If you like it,
let me know at dws202@yaoo.com

I never got together with Dave again, as hot as it was. Soon after our
encounter I turned 16 and really started living a normal social life with
my high school friends, yet all the time still racked with overwhelming
sexual desires and fantasies. Being popular, hanging out, going to parties
and dances was all fun, but the simple vanilla life of a typical high
school sophomore did nothing to quell my inner perversions, above all the
taboo and forbidden lust I still held for my dad.

Dave's revelation-that when younger, my dad had fucked him, drove me crazy
with possibilities. Did he still do things like that? Even if he did, what
difference did that make to me? Even if he still likes male hole, that
surely didn't mean he would do something so sick as to plow his own son's
ass. And what about my fantasies-were they just a reaction to being horny,
to wanting to get nasty with practically any guy I saw, or was it really
the incest that turned me on so much? Being taken by Dave had been hot, but
it was really the incestual perversions that he had breathed in my ear and
mind during our encounter that I kept returning to night after
night. Whatever the reason behind them, my nighttime fantasies made by
typical high school existence by day seem unreal by comparison.

Meanwhile, there was still no reason to suspect that what I dreamed about
at night would ever be a reality. My dad was the same as ever, a few years
older and a bit thicker around the middle than he had been when I first
started fantasizing about him, but still the object of my desire. I was too
old to get myself into innocent situations of catching him coming from the
shower, but still had on occasion sneaked into his room and taken a dirty
pair of briefs from the hamper to help satisfy my lust. Yet I couldn't even
imagine him fucking another guy when he was younger, much less now-and even
much more less me.

Sixteen-year-olds being what they were and are, I started to run around
with a "party crowd" the summer after sophomore year. We tried a ridiculous
number of ways to score beer that summer, and sometimes even managed to do
so. It doesn't take much to get wasted at that age, as I found out at a few
parties over the summer, and it was after one of them that something
unexpected happened that still makes me dizzy with waves of lustful
remembrance when it all comes back to me.

My friends dropped me off late that night and I successfully snuck in to
avoid being caught coming in after curfew, or so I thought. As I turned to
go down the hall I heard my dad say "Dan, is that you?" from the
den. Shit. Busted. And I had been drinking beer, so much that I was very
dizzy and just wanted to lie down.  But I knew I couldn't get out of this,
so I drew myself up and went into the den, where my dad was sitting and
watching TV, a beer in his hand.

As if my beer dizziness weren't enough, the site of my dad made me even
more unbalanced. His dress and posture were exactly those of so many of my
late-night fantasies, when I imagined him in his robe, slightly parted to
allow a glimpse of his briefs and naked chest, legs spread apart so that I
could see that hair on his crotch and the beginnings of his hairy balls in
the glow of the TV. No other light was on, and he was alone. I had to
focus, I was already in too much trouble and didn't need to make the
situation worse with my stupid fantasies. But still, I felt like I had just
walked into one of my own erotic dreams, that I was writing a script in my
head and whatever I wanted to happen, would. Come on, man, snap out of it.

"You're late." Yeah, I know, time got away from me. Guess I'll go to bed
now, goodnight!

"That's OK, your mom's asleep so she won't know when you came in, sit down
and watch TV with me if you want." OK, I said. Stay steady, move to the
couch next to his chair and have a seat. Make small talk a few minutes then
excuse yourself, you'll get away with everything. Then I can go to bed and
start dreaming about that package between those big, hairy thighs in the
chair next to me. Just like with Dave, that time in the car-and then I
realized I had made the same mistake, I was staring without thinking, and
as I turned my gaze from my dad's crotch to his face, I saw he was staring
back at me. A hard, penetrating, un-knowing gaze that made me both
incredibly horny and afraid at the same time, but still he stared at me,
almost blankly. I looked again at his crotch, and this time the flap of his
briefs was tented with a humongous boner escaping. Still he stared, not
moving a muscle, as if he were daring me to keep looking at him, or was I
being dared to do something else? I was in too far already, so I decided to
follow that script in my head. I stood up, went over to the chair, knelt in
from of my father, pulled his cock out of the underwear I had smelled,
licked and cum on so many times, and went down on him like I had never gone
down on anyone before or since.

For what seemed like an eternity, he did nothing. Then he put his beer
aside, and slightly moaning, grabbed my hair with his right hand and pushed
me deeper onto his cock, for just a moment. Abruptly, he pulled me off his
cock by my hair and stood up, muttering, "I can't do this, I can't do
this," pulling his robe to and walking off. I stayed there kneeling in
front of the chair as I heard him go upstairs to bed, positively spinning
with beer and pent up desire, so heady with perversion at what just
happened that I couldn't and didn't think of any consequences. If only for
a moment, I had just sucked my father's cock, and the realization of all
those sick and twisted fantasies made me so horny I couldn't bear it
anymore. I grabbed a towel from the guest bathroom, and some lotion, and
pulling my pants down to my ankles, I settled onto the couch for a long and
slow jock-off session.

It wasn't long before the beer and the late hour got to me, and I passed
out cold. It was stupid of me not to go to my room, but I couldn't help
it. I wanted to be near that chair where I sucked his dick, to bury my face
in the cushion and smell where his sweaty hairy ass had been while I
slobbered on his cock. I woke up briefly as he stood over me again, bending
down to say, "Are you awake?" I didn't answer, and I felt his hands moving
over me, on my cock, down my asscrack and probing into my puckered
bunghole. I barely remembered him sucking on his finger and sliding it into
me, my moaning, a robe and a shoe coming off, the beer and sleepiness and
confusion clouding me so much that I couldn't record the event I had been
dreaming of all my youth. Why had I screwed up this opportunity so much, I
thought, as I drifted off once again.

Dawn had barely broken when I woke again, on my bed. I was face down with
only my underwear on-my dad must have brought me to bed. Damn, I had made
such a mess of things, I was surely in a lot of trouble. Worst of all,
except for the a few clear moments, I couldn't even be sure of exactly what
had happened. Had I thrown myself at him and then he spurned me, just
returning to drop off my sorry ass into my bed before my mom awoke? That's
what I figured as I lumbered off to the bathroom to pee, wondering how on
earth I could possibly face his after this disgrace. That's when I noticed,
as I pulled those briefs down, that there was something cold and wet on my
ass. I turned on the light, pulled down my underwear and faced backwards
against the mirror, where I could see the cum draining out of my bunghole
and down my crack, onto my upper thighs. My dad, my own father, had
violated me, and put his fat cock into my hole and fucked me raw, leaving
the sperm that made me dripping out of his own son's shithole. Nothing that
had happened before, in reality or my mind, could compare with the heat of
that perverted realization. My dad never spoke about it, and neither did
I-I remembered enough from that night to know that he never wanted to be
reminded of what he had done. But for me, all I have to do is think of that
cock up my hole and all the sick fantasies leading up to it, and I still
cum like I've never cum before.