Date: Sat, 04 Aug 2012 02:42:18 +0200
From: Michael West <michaeljwest@gmx.com>
Subject: Quality Time with my Son

All of the usual disclaimers apply to this story. This is a work of
fiction, it portrays consensual sexual acts between a man, his teenage son
and an unrelated adult man. If this is not to your taste or illegal for you
to read, please stop here. Feel free to send me an email with your
comments! michaeljwest@gmx.com

==========================

QUALITY TIME WITH MY SON

People often comment on how alike my son Nick and I am. It's not just
physical, although we're both dark-haired and fairly stocky. We share a
certain closeness, a connection. People tell me that he's a credit to
me. They ask me how, when most other fifteen year old boys are unruly,
sulky yobbos, my son is such a well-mannered, charming young man. I smile
and say it's because I spend time with him, that we share a hobby
together. Of course, most people assume that I mean something like fishing,
or airfix modelling. I don't. The hobby my son and I share is rough sex in
public toilets.

It all started about a year ago, when Nick was far from being the model son
he is now. In fact, he was a bit of a handful. His mother and I were going
through a bit of a bad patch at the time, and I don't know, maybe Nicky was
picking up on it. I was stressed out at work, stressed at home, arguing
with my wife and worrying about my son's change in behaviour.

To relieve some of this stress (and to drain my balls regularly, because
that certainly wasn't on the cards at home), I'd taken to visiting a little
cottage in the park during my lunch hour. It was close to my office, it had
a glory-hole, and nine times out of ten, there would be a cocksucker eager
for a frustrated married dad's load waiting there.

One afternoon in the cottage, after dumping three day's worth of spunk into
the willing cocksucker's mouth, I bent down to pull my trousers back up and
caught sight of something I recognised through the glory hole. I shook my
head, sure I had to be mistaken. I checked again, squinting through the
hole in the partition. No, I was right. It was my son's school bag, hanging
from the back of the door. And there, sat on the toilet, his grey school
trousers around his ankles and his hand furiously pumping away on his
stubby prick, was my tousle-haired teenage son. His eyes were closed and
his head was thrown back, his mouth slightly agape. Some of my semen
glistening at the corner of his mouth. His tongue flicked out to lick it
off. His free hand moved down between his legs to tug at his hairless plump
ballsack. I crouched, frozen to the spot, watching my only son jerking off
in a public toilet after he'd unknowingly swallowed his own father's
load. His breathing sped up and with a slight groan, he started to come,
his thick white jizz oozing slowly from his engorged bell-end, running down
his clenched fist. Coming down from his orgasmic high, he opened his eyes,
caught my peeping eye at the glory-hole. With a cheeky grin he flicked the
spunk from his hand and started to pull up his plaid boxer shorts.

"Enjoy the show, granddad?" he said. Really? "Granddad?" I wasn't amused.

"Nicholas Dickinson, you come out of there RIGHT NOW!" I replied. The look
of panic on his face was a picture.

That was a year ago. Of course, having just blown a load down his throat, I
could hardly take the moral high ground about him bunking off school to
suck dick in the park toilets. Once he had calmed down about being caught
and then got over the shock of having sucked the cock that made him, he was
pretty excited. My efforts to interest him in fishing had gone down like
the proverbial lead balloon, but here at last was a father-son activity
that he could really get into.

So now, as part of my effort to be a good father, once a week I leave the
office early and pick Nicky up after school. I wait outside the school
gates in the car, my dick twitching inside my suit trousers as I watch him
chat with his mates in the playground. Finally, he catches sight of my car
and breaks away from his mates, jogging towards me. His school shirt is
half untucked, and his tie is askew. He jumps in the car and we drive
off. The car fills immediately with the scent of unwashed teenager, that
musky odour of a fifteen year old boy who's convinced that Lynx Africa is a
decent substitute for showering after PE.

As soon as he's sure we're not likely to be seen by any of his schoolmates,
he leans over to kiss me on the cheek, his hand "innocently" resting on the
bulge at the crotch of my trousers.

"Hey Dad!"

"Afternoon Nicky," I say, ruffling his hair.

We leave the car and leisurely make our way to the toilets in the centre of
the park, chatting about his day at school. Sometimes he jogs ahead of me a
little, and the sight of his firm young buttocks inside his grey school
trousers makes my semi-hard prick ooze into my briefs.

My son pushes open the door to the toilets and we go inside. A stink of old
piss assaults our nostrils, cut with an undertone of something sweeter:
stale cum. The toilets were empty, all cubicles free. We made a beeline to
the third cubicle from the end, the one I like to think of as "our"
cubicle. The one with the glory hole, the one where he first sucked my
cock. I locked the door behind us and hung up my suit jacket.

Nicky sat down on the toilet and stared at my crotch expectantly. I
unbuckle my belt and unzip my black suit trousers, letting them fall to my
knees. My son smiles and leans forward, lifting my shirt tails to expose my
briefs. With his free hand, he rubs my crotch, cupping my heavy balls
through the sweat-soaked cotton. I pull my half-hard prick through the fly
in my y-fronts, tugging my fat, hairy bollocks after them. My son sticks
out his tongue and laps at my wrinkled foreskin, flicking it back and
forth. He leans further forward and sucks my foreskin-covered bell-end into
his mouth. With one hand still massaging my ballsack, he starts digging
around under my foreskin with his tongue, quickly bringing me to full
hardness.

I grunt and thrust my hard prick further into his mouth. My boy's a
champion cocksucker and soon all six inches are inside him, his nose
pressed up against the sweaty cotton of my briefs. I hunch into his mouth
gently while he works his tongue up and down my shaft. He's good, and he's
bringing me close to orgasm. Normally, I take my time before dumping a load
in his mouth, but it's been a hard day at the office today and I need the
release. Taking his head firmly in both hands, I hold him still while I
pull my prick almost fully out of his mouth, just resting my thick, slimy
bell-end between his lips. His eager tongue laps insistently at my jap's
eye, I can feel him trying to push forward as he makes little mewling
noises. My little boy wants his daddy's dick. I'm a good father, and only
too keen to oblige. I ram my prick back into his mouth, mashing my ballsack
against his little chin. He wants dick, he's going to get it.

I start pounding his poor little mouth, gripping his head tight between my
hands. I might be being a little bit too rough, as he tries to pull
away. No, son, not today. Daddy needs to dump his load fast. I can feel his
spit dribbling down my ballsack with each stroke. He continues to struggle,
his hands beating ineffectively against my thick, hairy thighs and
buttocks. I look down and see the tears streaming out of his tightly shut
eyes, the throbbing bulge in his school trousers. I know he likes it
rough. He needs to know who's in charge.

He gives up trying to get me to slow down and moves his hands up under my
shirt and vest. He rubs the wiry hair on my belly and slowly continues up
my torso until he finds my nipples. He starts tugging on them like he's
milking a cow. It's too much for me. I feel my bollocks tighten and draw up
towards my body, my hot jizz ready to explode out of my throbbing prick. I
let it happen. I pull back until only my bell-end is in his mouth and let
go. Nicky would never forgive me if I just came straight down his
throat. He's a total slut for man jizz. One, two, three four spurts of my
thick spunk unload onto his waiting tongue. He swallows it down
eagerly. There's something insane and sexy about listening to a boy gulp
down the semen that made him.

Spent, I pull back and let my softening prick fall from his mouth. It
glistens with his saliva. Slowly, I milk the very last of my spunk out of
my piss slit. Catching it with my thumb, I rub it over his lips. His hand
is already on the bulge in his grey school trousers. I slap it away and
motion him to stand up. He stands and wraps his arms around me, grinding
his crotch into my thigh. I can feel his hardness through the rough fabric
of his trousers. He lifts his face for a kiss. Wrapping my arms around my
son, I attack his sweet fifteen year-old mouth, my tongue diving in and
wrestling with his, my bushy moustache rubbing against his wispy little
bum-fluff.

My hands drop down my boy's body until I'm cupping his firm buttocks
through the thin material of his trousers. My son has the finest arse I've
ever seen. He still hasn't lost all of his puppy fat, and most of it is
still in his gorgeous rounded bubble butt. Two sweet sweet peaches that I
could squeeze and rub all day long. Today, though, I have other plans.

I break our kiss and we shuffle awkwardly around each other in the confined
space of the cubicle. I sit on the toilet while he faces the door. I reach
out and start pawing his buttocks again through his trousers. He giggles a
little.

"Dad, stop it!" he says. I do, but not before I've given his arse a
resounding slap. He jumps a little and starts fiddling with his belt. He
drops his school trousers to his ankles. Hiking up his shirt, he bends
forward at the waist, bracing himself against to cubicle door with one
hand. I might have only shot my bolt a few minutes before, but my dick is
twinging again at the sight in front of me. My son's meaty arse fills out
those white cotton briefs perfectly. He spreads his legs wide, for balance,
and I can see the plump bulge of his cotton-covered nutsack between those
thick teenage thighs. I lean forward and bury my face between my son's
cheeks, inhaling deeply. The stink of his arse fills my nostrils, damp and
musky. I stick out my tongue and with big, broad swipes of my tongue taste
his underpants. This is why I won't let him wear boxer shorts any more. I
don't care if all the other boys in his class do: nothing soaks up teenage
arse-sweat like a pair of tight, white y-fronts.

His arse-crack is a damp, musky feast of teenage stink and soon his white
underpants are almost see-through, soaked through with my saliva and his
sweat. I drill my tongue into his arsehole, pushing the cotton fabric up
him and making him groan like a whore. I can't hold myself back any longer
and I roughly pull the seat of his y-fronts down, the waistband resting
just at the top of his thick thighs. Teenage rugby-player's thighs, already
starting to get a dusting of wiry black hair so like my own. His buttocks,
though, are still smooth and hairless. I take one in each hand and pull
them apart to reveal his hairless pink hole. His arsecrack smells sweaty
and muskily unwashed. Just how I like it. I dive back in and start roughly
tonguing his tight rosebud. My son starts to coo like a baby and grinds his
arse back onto my face.

The stink of my teenage son's arsehole is better than any viagra. I might
have shot a load only ten minutes before, but eating my boy out is having
an effect on my dick. Slowly I'm getting harder, my foreskin pulling back
to expose my fat purple bell-end. I'm starting to leak precum, and my son's
arse is about as wet as it's going to get. My hands move from his buttock
to his hips and I pull him backwards firmly, seating him on my cock. He
gives an audible gasp as my knob pops inside his sphincter, still tight
even with the good tonguing I've given it. Slowly he sinks down onto my
cock until my hairy bollocks are resting against his buttocks. I wrap my
arms around him and slowly start to fondle his throbbing teenage prick,
still caught inside his briefs. I slowly rub my thumb against his bell-end,
rubbing the rough cotton across his sensitive glans and making his stumpy
prick jerk. I can hear his breathing start to become ragged, so I stop and
lean back, pulling him with me. We sit there, my fifteen year old son, legs
spread and impaled on my cock, leaning back against my chest. I run my hand
underneath his school shirt and stroke his chest gently, occasionally
flexing my cock inside his arse.

We don't have to wait for long. The door to the toilets creaks open,
footsteps cross the floor to the cubicle next to us. We hear a zip being
lowered, a quiet cough politely announcing the presence of a fellow addict
to anonymous sex. Ever eager, my son leans forward to peer through the hole
in the partition. I can see him licking his lips. He starts to run one
finger around the edge of the hole, beckoning the stranger to put his cock
through. The stiff cock that slowly emerges through the glory hole is
magnificent: thin but far longer than my own thick six inches, dark brown
Indian skin gently curving upwards. A wide, flared mushroom head completely
covered by a long, tapering foreskin. I reach out and gently stroke this
beautiful meat, from base to tip. We hear the stranger shuffle forward a
bit more, to push as much of his cock through the hole as possible. Nick
reaches out and gently eases the stranger's balls from the fly in his blue
jeans. They're heavy, pendulous specimens, covered in long wiry hair.

I slowly skin back the man's long foreskin, exposing his dark, shiny
knobend. With my thumb, I tease the end, making his dick jerk. And with my
free hand, I take a handful of my son's hair and guide his mouth to the
stranger's stiff prick. Nicky quickly gets the message and takes the man
into his mouth. No initial gentle teasing of the tip, no gentle nibbling of
the foreskin. My boy gobbles down as much anonymous Indian cock as he can,
slobbering over the brown meat like a dog over a bone. Seeing my son's head
hungrily bob up and down on the stranger's prick, I begin to flex my own
thick meat inside his arse. He begins to move his backside in time with the
motions of his ferociously sucking mouth, fucking himself on my prick. He
see-saws between my short, thick member and the stranger's long, thin
throat-tickler.

I begin to stand, lifting the boy upwards with my prick as he continue to
suck on the stranger's meat. I need to fuck him, to rut the arse off my
fifteen year old son. His mouth still working franticly on the Indian's
long prick, I manoeuver myself into a position easier for fucking. Holding
his hips in both hands, I ram my cock all the way home, pressing my balls
against his buttocks and making him grunt in protest. His squawks of
discomfort are muffled by the long Indian dick in his mouth. His arse
clamps down on my prick, holding it tight like a vice, every stroke tugging
my foreskin over my glans, every stroke bringing my sweaty bollocks against
his buttocks. I speed up, long-dicking my boy, drawing my cock almost all
the way out, leaving only my fat knob lodged inside him before ramming it
back up inside him.

Over my boy's muffled grunts, I can hear satisfied moans from the stranger
in the next cubicle. Rhythmic thuds as he thrusts against the partition,
trying to get even more of his long, smooth dick down my son's throat. I
try to match his thrusts into my son's mouth with my own pounding of his
backside, but the stranger's thrusting becomes faster and more
erratic. First I hear a long moan as he shoots his load, then frantic,
noisy gulps as my son tries to swallow all of the stranger's spunk. He
isn't quite successful, and as he looks over his shoulder at me I can lines
of thick white spunk dribbling from his mouth down his chin. Having shot
his load down my son's throat, the stranger doesn't hang around. His
softening dick is quickly withdrawn, and soon we hear him leave the
toilets.

Left all alone, I lose any sense of caution. My grunting as I thrust into
my son's willing backside almost drowns out the sound of my thighs slapping
against his. His moaning gets louder as I grab a handful of his hair and
roughly make him look at me. His eyes are glazed, his tongue hanging out,
making trails in the stranger's spunk left on his chin.

"Tell me you want this," I spit out between thrusts. He moans. I tug harder
on his hair. "Tell me," I repeat.

"Fuck me, Dad! I want your fat cock up me! Fuck me like the dirty cunt I
am!" he pants.

"Tell me you want my spunk."

"Fuck, Dad. I want your spunk! Fucking shower me in it. Fucking spunk up
inside me." He starts clamping down on my prick, massaging it with his
sphincter. I can't hold back any longer. Burying myself up to my balls in
his arse, I shoot my load inside my son. Panting, I collapse on his back as
my twitching prick shoots spurt after spurt of thick white jizz up his
teenage arsehole. Spent, I pull my cock from his hole, leaving it gaping
open and dribbling sperm. Nick spins round and takes my softening prick
into his mouth, anxious to taste the last of my jizz. I make him get up and
sit on my knee. I reach inside his briefs, grab his bollocks and start
squeezin them, while working two fingers of my other hand up his freshly
fucked hole. My fingers squelch inside him, my spunk squirting back out of
his arsehole. He closes his eyes and throws back his head, rubbing his
stubby four inches through his briefs. I squeeze tighter on his balls and
his hand becomes a blur on his prick.

"Uh, uh, uh, uh! I'm coming!" He turns and buries his face in my shoulder,
his prick spurting his creamy teenage spunk into his briefs, hot and sticky
as it rolls down over my hand. I take my hand from his balls and bring it
to his mouth. He dutifully licks his own spunk from my fingers and then
turns to me and smiles. He gets up off my knee and pulls his grey school
trousers back up over his spunk-filled y-fronts. I know I'll get them off
him this evening, stashed away in my briefcase for me to wank over at
work. I push my own cock back into my briefs, making sure that any last
dribbles of jizz land inside the pouch. Nicky keeps them under his bed for
when he wanks off at night: some nights I lie awake next to my wife,
listening to my son beat off in the next room, knowing he's got a pair of
my dirty underpants held to his nose. As he hands me my suit jacket, he
smiles at me again.

"I love spending time with you, Dad."