Date: Mon, 24 Sep 2012 13:00:38 -0400
From: Ned Arm <nedarm217@gmail.com>
Subject: Gay/Incest/Oysters from Dad/Chapter 2

To respond to those who have asked...Yes, the story is true.  A bit of
literary license has been taken to make it more readable story, but YES,
the story is true. Ned


Chapter 2



A couple of weeks went by, with no invite from Dad to come to the club.  When
my wife got curious with

that, I mumbled out irritably "One cannot have oysters every day" and she
looked at me strangely and

said "What did you just say?"  I caught myself, and told her it was just
the lyrics of a song that had been

rattling around in my head, and she continued her strange look at me, but
let it drop.



At work, I told myself that it was time to call Dad at his work, but before
I made it happen, I received a

call from Loretta, his secretary.  She was calling for Dad, who wanted to
know if I could have dinner with

him on Wednesday night, and I jumped at the opportunity.  I think I
squirted a bit of precum when she told me that I was to meet him at his
office at 5:30 at the end of the work day.  Damn!   It was two days

away and I was already awaiting the event like a schoolboy with an
important date.



*    *    *    *    *

Loretta was still there when I arrived and she led me into Dad's office,
all very formal and efficient.  She

called me Don, and then immediately corrected herself, but I rarely paid
attention to those minor gaffes,

anymore. Dad made a big show of my being there, which was indeed a very
infrequent event so he

made a big fuss in front of Loretta.  And then Loretta left.  Dad followed
her out, and he locked the door

when she was gone.



Without any foreplay, he immediately began to take off his clothes.  I made
a comment about how anxious he must be (I was more anxious than he possibly
could have been!), and with his easy laugh, he said "I think you were just
about to do something when we were so rudely interrupted at the club last
time.  I thought I should give you the opportunity to complete whatever it
was you started but did not finish."



Oh yes, I knew what he meant.  I knew full well he had been anticipating a
blow job from me, since it did not happen because the club trainer
interrupted our "workout".  Teasing, I told him that I was doing nothing
until I got another dance and show like he had given me when he had danced
around in the nude. Smiling, he resumed stripping and said, "That is easily
done."



When he got to his white jockeys, he stopped.  I did the same.  Both of us
were tenting, and there were little wet spots of precum on both sets of u
nderwear.  He began his routine, just as before, like a stripper in a gay
club, bumping and grinding, teasing with the viewing of his pubic hair,
then on down to barely hide his ever hardening cock.  The difference this
time was that I was trying to match him, move for move.  I do not know
which one was turning on the other one more, but it was hot!  We both
pulled the briefs off at the same time.



I twirled mine above my head, and tossed them to Dad.  He caught them and
immediately put them to his nose which turned me on tremendously.  "You
know all about these little male tricks, don't you?" I asked as he deeply
sniffed my underwear.  He simply smiled, and hung them over his hard prick
which was bouncing with anticipation.  "Nope, I don't know all the
tricks.  There
were some that I did not even know their name."



He stroked his cock a few times "Do you want me to stand or to sit?" he
asked sincerely.  "Both", I teased, "but we can start with standing."  I
moved close to him craving to experience another of the hot tongue kisses
that only he could deliver.  He did not disappoint, once again, taking my
breath away.  When we were both coming

up for air, I slid down to my knees.  I took his cock in my hand and looked
at it for what I thought was a

long time, since indeed, it was so magical looking just like my own.  My
brain was imprinting the image

of his cock, and comparing it to my own and like the fingerprint matching
you see on TV, my brain was

shrieking "Match.  Match.  Match."  I slipped my lips over his dick, and
slowly did a long deep throat

massaging of his cock.



He was loving it.  He grabbed the back of my neck and guided my head
directly to his hard cock, as

though I did not know where it was.  He fucked my face as a hot hunky
stud would do, gently, then firmly, deeply, lovingly, sometimes demanding,
with purpose and pleasure in every thrust of his butt which pushed his
prick, with every movement of my mouth.  I knew he was cumming and so did
he, as his dick grew harder and thicker and his hold on me tightening.  He
threw back his head and started spurting, and I was not sure if he was ever
going to stop.  I knew that I usually delivered up six or seven spurts and
it seemed most guys that I had sucked did the similar six to seven volleys
of cum explosion, but his seemed to go on and on and on.  I

lost count.  I held him in my mouth until he was almost totally flaccid
before coming up for air.



Dad put his hands on both sides of my head as he kissed me deeply,
receiving back some of his own cum.  He

moved his hand down to my cock, which was slick with cum, though I had not
realized that I had had an orgasm.  I had simply leaked my load of cum and
precum in a great volume without any friction on my dick.  There was a
puddle of my cum on the carpet.  "Damn, you are one sensual sexy stud" he
said to me as he pulled

away from me and cleaned up my mess.  "Let's have a drink."



Dad retrieved his briefs and threw them to me.  He picked up mine and put
them on, and I did the same,

wearing his.  "We need a semblance of being civilized", he said, "we cannot
sit on the furniture without

underwear.  Doesn't have to be your own, just has to covering your ass."  He
opened a cabinet to reveal

a fully stocked bar, and not surprisingly, we both had scotch.



We sat down, like old friends, and the conversation flowed easily as we
chatted about everything it seemed, with the emphasis on sex.  When pressed,
I admitted that I was probably as close to bisexual as you could get, being
happily married.  I did not chase women, nor did I chase men.  On occasion,
men found me, or a situation presented itself where male sex was an option.
I had seldom turned down the testosterone opportunity.



I told Dad about virtually every encounter I had ever had, which were not
that many when I got right down to

actually trying to recounting all that I could recall.  Most all of them
were in the business world in which I

operated but I had been known to hit a gay bar or two when I was especially
in need of a man for male

sex .  I decided to answer every question he asked, as honestly as I could
do, and he promised to do the

same when it was my turn to quiz him.



No, I had never had any STD, not even crabs.  No, I did not do drugs, but I
had a great affinity for

poppers.  No, I did not get fucked, though I had ridden more than a few
asses and, yes, I practiced safe sex.  There were seemingly an endless
number of such questions, and the scotch flowed freely as we sat there in
our jockey shorts and talked.  And drank.  At age 26, I could only go back
about ten years, and it seemed as though I remembered every encounter.  I
certainly tried.



He was especially interested in my first adult

encounter, which was with the brother of one of neighbor friends.  He was
highly curious of brother Don, and I freely admitted that we had jacked off
together for years, until he got married, and had learned oral sex by
practicing
on each other.  He was highly intrigued.  Eventually, he seemed satisfied,
and he poured another healthy scotch, as he said, "OK, your turn. Fire
away."



At age 52, it was obvious to both of us that he had certainly been around
more blocks than I had.  When

I asked how he got started, he said it was very similar to my early years,
young guys at work.  He said he

had also tried most every gay bar in town, and had seen many of them come
and go over thirty years.  But he also had limitations which started to set
in as his career was progressing rapidly and he could not allow his
business reputation to become besmirched by any gay night life.



He valued his career and his personal life of marriage and family too
highly to be destroyed by an inadvertent encounter, a slip-up, a mistake in
judgment.  So, by the time he was thirty, he ceased the public pursuit of
cock.  "Did you quit, cold turkey?" I asked.  He smiled his big white teeth
smile and said, "Nope, how can anyone stop something that is such a vital
part of life? Could you?"



I was intrigued and begged him to go on. "Well, I thought I might be
satisfied with a lover, and there was a guy here at work that I thought
would keep my horns trimmed and my dick satisfied.  We developed a kind of
lover relationship, supposedly pretty much geared to just each other.  So I
thought.  When he was arrested for some rather salacious activities in a
public park, the newspapers grabbed the story, the company fired him, and
he disappeared.  I never knew where he went."



"However, I found an alternative at just about the same time as that sordid
affair was ending." He settled on something that I had never thought of.  He
became very

familiar with the gay escort scene.



He traveled extensively and he found it very convenient to hire an escort
to come to his hotel room, and

have sex of any variety that might interest him, give him some money and
send him on the way.  They

never knew who he was, he was just "trade".  He knew, however, the popular
names in the flesh industry, who

was the most in demand, the most muscular, the hunkiest and the incredibly
hung, and the most satisfying escorts  anywhere in the country.  He was
wired into the gay escort agencies of most major cities.  Then with the

advent of the Internet, he no longer needed the agencies and contacted the
escorts directly.  I was fascinated!  He mentioned several names, guys that
I had lusted over either in magazines or on the Internet, and he smilingly
admitted that he had had satisfying sex with most of them.  It struck a
note of momentary jealousy:  "Damn, you mean you have sucked off Zeb? And
Ted Colunga?"  And he would smile and describe the encounter in detail.



I had nearly run out of questions when I peppered him with some that he had
grilled me:  Drugs? No.

STD? Never.  Poppers?  Hell yes.  Top or Bottom.  90% top, 10% bottom.  And
I finished up with the one

he had asked me:  "OK. Have you had sex with my brother?



He laughed as he said "No, and I would never

have had sex with you either if you had not stuck your dick in my face at
the club. My hormones could not

handle it, and especially not when I first realized that our dicks were
genetically identical, looking the

same."  He grinned a wicked grin, and said "Nope, never had your brother
but I sure would like to."  Softly he said, "How big is his cock?"  He
paused before I answered.  "Actually, how big is yours and mine?"  He went
to his desk and brought out a tape meaasure, "OK, we need to both measure
up.  I know I am seven but not quite sure how much over seven."



We played with each other to rock hardness before measuring until we were
still both blue steel rock hard. And throbbing. "Seven and three eighths",
I announced.  He then laid the measure on his cock. We both nearly doubled
over with laughing when he announced his results:  Seven and three eighths,
both of us. Then he said, "OK, how big is your brother?"  And I told him
that he was probably exactly the same, and he swore, "Damn, it would be so
fucking hot for the three of us to get naked together!"  I agreed.  "I can
make that happen", I responded confidently.  He grinned a wicked grin and
said "Then make it happen Stud."



By this point in time, we had established a bond so strong that I did not
know such a relationship could

exist.  It was pretty evident that I was definitely his son, in all ways.  Not
only did we look alike, since our

physical attributes were nearly identical, even our cocks, our sex life was
similar and the sex we had

together was enormously pleasing to both of us.  Our adult actions were
strikingly similar.  "The apple does

not fall far from the tree" he said, as we both got dressed.



Dad called the car pool, and a limo was waiting when we go to the street.  We
carried on a lively conversation, in hushed tones since we assumed the
driver was all ears, again focusing upon our activities with disguised
commentary, and came to the reasonable conclusion that we could meet at least
once a month at his office, (after Loretta leaves next time I begged), and
at least once a month at his club in the fitness room.  I was elated with
the schedule and we decided to leave all of the logistics up to him.  He
would call and confirm or call and cancel.  "OK, so the ball is in your
court" I said, as I reached over and rubbed his crotch.  He gently removed
my hand and said "Yes, that is how we got started wasn't it?  A ball game."




Then he rubbed my crotch but I did not remove his hand.  I got very hard as
he stroked me though my trousers the rest of the way home.  I shot off in
my underwear, dammit!  We were home before I wanted to give the evening up,
but I had to admit, today's helping of oysters had been very filling and
fulfilling!



End of Chapter 2



If the story is of interest to you, let me know.  I will publish more of
the story only if there are readers.  Ned