Date: Tue, 21 Jul 2009 17:40:15 +0000
From: Neil N. Blow <neilnblow@hotmail.com>
Subject: Richie was a Faggot (M/b Incest)

Thanks again for all the kind comments on "New Shoes".  There are
apparently a lot of men out there, who, as boys, were sexually attracted to
their Fathers.

The following is another such story.  Again, if you are offended by such
stories or they are illegal in your jurisdiction, please read no further.


--Neil

* * * * *

Richie was a Faggot.

Richie Larkin was a Faggot.  That was all there was to it.  You need ask no
further that the boys in the locker room at his high school.  They all
called him "Faggot" at every opportunity.  And when they could, they would
knock the books out of his arms as he walked down the hallway between
classes.  Or just kick him in the ass and say "Faggot."

Richie would look around to see who did it, but in the bustle of
between-period bells, it was hard to tell.  He would kneel down to gather
up his papers, which made him late for class again.  By the time he got to
class, the teacher would make some rude remark about Richie being late, and
on the way to his seat at the back of the class, one of the jock boys would
stick out his leg, tripping Richie and send his books sprawling again.  The
boys would mutter under their breath, "Faggot" and snicker.  The teacher
would reprimand Richie for causing a commotion.

What made the insults and assaults more troubling for Richie was that he
knew the boys were right.  He was a Faggot - a full-blown one.  A sensitive
boy from an early age, he was thin and delicate, with fair red hair and
freckles.  He was never interested in sports or other "manly" pursuits, but
instead preferred to play indoors with his toys.  His only interest in
sports was in catching glances in the locker room of the other boys when
they were naked.  This usually resulted in more accusations of "Faggot" as
well as being towel-whipped by the other boys.  And again, when the coach
came in to see what the commotion was all about, he would reprimand Richie
for causing the trouble.  "Can't you stay out of trouble for more than a
minute or two?" Coach would say.  And the other boys would snicker.

So Richie would stay at home himself, mostly.  He had one friend, Jeff,
whose Mother was a friend of his Mother.  They played together as boys, on
play-dates arranged by their Mothers.  Jeff didn't play with Richie's
otherwise.  Richie wanted to play indoors, with toys, or even dolls.  Jeff
wanted to throw the football around.  There was one game Jeff did like to
play with Richie, and that was "pull down your pants".  They would go to
the basement while their Mothers had coffee upstairs, and pull down each
other's pants.  Jeff would lie on Richie and press his penis between
Richie's legs, and it felt good.

But as Jeff got older, he wanted to play with Richie less and less, as the
other boys called Richie a Faggot, and Jeff didn't want to be associated
with THAT.  But on a few occasions, Jeff did stop by, when he was a teen,
and played "pull down your pants" a few last times with Richie, leaving a
load of youthful semen between Richie's legs, before zipping up and leaving
hurriedly.  Jeff was attracted to Richie, but the severe social norms of an
American High School forced him to renounce his attraction.  It was often
Jeff who was the first one to call Richie a "Faggot" when he was with a
group of boys.  Or to strike Richie, and then laugh.

A Richie reached puberty, he became more isolated from his peers, and spent
longer hours at home, by himself.  He also become more and more obsessed
about his attraction to men, spending hours in his room, jacking off
slowly, thinking about boys in the locker room, thinking about Jeff,
thinking about cocks.  He knew now what being a Faggot meant.  And he knew
about sex with men, from the things the other boys had said (and accused
him of).  But the reality was, even though he wanted to do these things,
his opportunities for sex with other boys were limited, if nonexistent.

His Father, Mr. Larkin, was a traveling salesman who was gone for days and
weeks at a time.  Today, we call folks like Mr. Larkin a "Manufacturer's
Rep", but back then, they were traveling salesmen.  He had a station wagon
with sample cases of industrial products, and he traveled extensively
through the Northeast.  Like most traveling salesman, he had a little black
book of names and addresses, and the Dameron guide.  Mr. Larkin knew a
place in every town he traveled in where he could have his sexual needs
satisfied - by a boy or a girl.  He also knew the needs of his clients, and
more than one large account was landed after he provided a motel room and
prostitute for the purchasing agent of a local factory.  Mr. Larkin had
been around the block, as they used to say.

Mrs. Larkin had a career of her own, selling Real Estate.  She was gone
long hours from the home, out on listings, or so she said.  In reality, she
was carrying on a long-term affair with her office manager.  They would
meet for dinner at the "Ground Round" and then repair to a Motel Room, or
even to a vacant listing.  On more than one occasion, she had spent a
pleasant evening with her back on the carpet in the empty bedroom of a
vacant house for sale, while her office manager pounded her neglected
pussy.  She and Mr. Larkin would divorce within a few years.

So this left Richie alone at home.  His older brother had left for college,
and with his Father out of town and his Mother off at "work", he had a lot
of time to himself.  When he was not jerking off, watching television,
listening to records, or making dinner, Richie would explore every nook and
cranny of his home.  He looked through every box in the attic and basement,
going trough old photo albums, clothes, and things.  He found his father's
stash of pornography, and was surprised to see raunchy pictures of women
doing nasty things.  The things he found in the house during his
explorations fascinated him.  He was an introspective boy.

As he got older, he moved from his bedroom next door to his parent's room,
to the basement.  The basement rec room afforded him more privacy for
jerking off, out of earshot of his parent's room.  In addition, he did not
have to listen to them argue through the thin walls of their cheaply-built
raised-ranch tract home.  And even though his parents didn't get along very
well, living in the basement afforded him one other privacy - he didn't
have to listen to his parents having sex through the thin wall between his
old bedroom and their room.

Mr. and Mrs. Larkin still had sex on occasion, even though their interests
were elsewhere.  Mr. Larkin would come home from one of his sales trips,
and he and Mrs. Larkin would go out to eat, often to the same Ground Round
restaurant Mrs. Larkin ate at with her office manager.  The restaurant
maître d' knew better than to say anything.  After a couple of martinis and
some steaks, if they didn't get into a bitching argument, they would end up
making love when they got home.  Mrs. Larkin sometimes did it out of
feelings of guilt - that she had abandoned her husband.  And perhaps
Mr. Larkin felt likewise.  Or perhaps he was just horny.  But on occasion,
they still had sex.  But not often.

One afternoon after school, Richie was doing his usual snooping around the
house.  Mother was off at another Real Estate "meeting" with her manager,
and Mr. Larkin was at the office.  Looking through his parent's room was
one of Richie's favorite pastimes, as he found things that helped him
understand their complicated relationship.  But today, he found something
very puzzling.  In the wastebasket by the bed was a used condom.  Richie
didn't recognize it at first.  It looked like a dead insect or some sort of
bag, but he pulled aside some papers on top and saw what it was.  He picked
it up and felt the texture of wet semen in side.  He briefly studied it and
then dropped it in horror back in the basket. " Eeeeeew!" he though.
That's gross.  But this little item gave him another insight into his
parents' lives.  They still had sex, occasionally, and his Mother was still
fertile - and not on the pill.

After watching some television, he started thinking of his Father having
sex.  Thinking about his Mother was a turnoff.  But when he though of his
Father disrobing, and his large cock hanging down (Richie remembering from
the few times he had seen his Father naked) he started to become aroused.
He turned off the television and went down to his basement lair.  He laid
out on his bed and pulled his jeans down and started stroking his cock.  It
felt good, and it felt better when he thought about his Father's cock.  He
thought about sucking cock, and that felt even better.  And then he thought
about sucking his Father's cock, and waves of pleasure washed over his
body.  The boys in school were right.  Richie was a first-class Faggot.
Who else would think of such things?

He kept up his fantasies of blowing his Father, and thought what it would
feel like to have his Father cum in his mouth.  What would it taste like?
Feel like?  With a start, he realized that there was a way to find out.

Pulling his jeans up over his hard cock, he padded upstairs to his parents
room.  The condom was still where he left it, in the wastebasket, under the
papers.  He carefully extricated it, noting that none of the semen had
spilled out.  Carrying his prize in one hand, extended out from his body,
he carefully walked downstairs back to his room.  Once there, he sat the
condom on his night stand and pulled his jeans back down.  Stoking his cock
furiously, he thought again about his fantasy about his Father.

Then, he carefully picked up the used condom from the nightstand, and said
to himself, "Well, here goes" and he turned the condom inside out in his
mouth, licking his Father's semen from the inside.  The semen was cold but
salty and tasted much like his own cum, which he had sampled in the past
out of curiosity.  The intensity of the experience was too much.  He
thought to himself, "I have a mouthful of my Father's cum!" and then shot
his own load all over his chest.

Immediately after cumming, he felt awkward.  His cock was raw from rubbing,
and there was semen all over his bare chest.  Worse yet, he had a used
rubber in his mouth.  He carefully extricated the condom from his mouth and
swallowed the semen, thinking back to a joke told by some of the high
school boys, at his expense, about how used condoms were "chewing gum for
Faggots".  Those boys were right, he guessed.

With his jeans around his ankles, he waddled over to the bathroom and
cleaned himself up, just in time to hear the power garage door opener
activate.  His parents were home.

Richie felt guilty about what he had done.  Very guilty.  The boys at
school were right.  He was the worst thing you could be in High School.  He
was a Faggot.  But worse than that, he lusted after his Father, and that
was Incest, which was like five times as bad.  And sucking old cum out of a
used condom?  That was just disgusting!

But it was not the last time Richie did it.  He made it a point to sneak
into his parent's bedroom every afternoon after school when his Father had
been home, and check the trash can for more special treats.  Often the
trash was emptied and he never knew if he missed one.  And most of the time
his Father was out of town.  But on several occasions, he would find the
condoms, and rush down with his prize to his bedroom, and slowly jerk off,
thinking about his Father, while he savored his Father's semen.

One Saturaday afternoon, Richie was very horny and decided to check out the
wastebasket in his parent's room.  His Father and Mother had been out the
night before, and no argument ensued, so there was a good chance they had
sex.  But his Father was home, and taking a nap in the bedroom.  So how
could he check the wastebasket?  If he waited too long, the semen would dry
up or his Mother would empty the trash.  Laying down in his basement lair,
Richie hatched a plan.

Slowly and quietly, he padded up the carpeted basement stairs, avoiding the
second step which creaked.  He then snuck down the hall as quietly as he
could.  His heart nearly jumped out of chest when the air conditioning
system quietly clicked on and air started to blow out of the vents with a
subdued rushing noise.  This was good, he thought, as his heart rate
slowed.  The noise of the A/C would cover him.

His parent's bedroom door was ajar, and with a slight push, it was open far
enough for him to enter.  His Father was apparently asleep, under a thin
blanket knit by his Grandma Larkin.  The wastebasket was next to the
nightstand nearest the door.  He slowly tiptoed over and looked inside.
His efforts were rewarded: a nice cum-filled condom lay inside, like so
many other times.  Carefully, he bent down and extracted his prize.

All of this was not going unnoticed by Mr. Larkin.  While he was a asleep
when his son entered the room, he woke almost instantly.  Perhaps it was
his experiences in the war, but he could sleep at the drop of a hat, but
also wake quietly at the slightest sound.  He opened his eyes very
slightly, and through the slits he saw his fey young son tiptoeing into the
room.  What was this?  Was Richie going to scarf some money from his
wallet?  He decided to pretent to be asleep and catch him in the act.

That Richie was a Faggot was no mystery to Mr. Larkin, who saw his son
develop along those lines since an early age.  Mr. Larkin was no stranger
to boy-sex, having been blown by more than one teenager in the front seat
of his car, while traveling as a salesman.  He knew the places in any major
city, and even the minor ones, or the larger towns, where you could go and
some teen boy would suck you off for $10 or so.  They all claimed to be
doing it "just for the money" of course, but Mr. Larkin knew better.  Since
his Army days, he knew there were guys that liked to suck cock.  And he
knew that sometimes it was convenient to let them.

But his son?  Well, the boy was a Faggot, that's for sure.  But was he
sucking cock yet?  The question never occured to Mr. Larkin.  Perhaps it
was compartmentaltizing, but he put the aspect of his son's sexuality in a
different part of his brain than his experiences with young men's mouths.

He watched as Richie walked over to the wastebasket and reached inside.
"What the fuck is he doing in there?" Mr. Larkin said to himself, "This
ought to be interesting!"  And it was.  When Richie's hand came back up
clutching the used condom, Mr. Larkin nearly had a heart attack.  He
watched as Richie tiptoed out of the room and all but ran down the hall.

"well, this is an interesting development." Mr. Larkin thought.  He slowly
climbed out of bed, trying not to let the bed springs creak from his
consdierable bulk.  He followed his son's footsteps down the hall and down
to the basement.  Turning the basement door knob as slowly as possible, he
pushed the door open slowly.  He could the sound of heavy breathing and
creaking bedsprings.  Little Richie was jerking off, to be sure.

He slowly lowered himself down the basement stairs, his heart pounding.  He
wanted to see what Richie was doing, but didn't want to be seen.  He bent
down, and between the spindles of the handrailing, he saw his son, pants
down, jerking off furiously.  "Well, at least he has a big dick like me."
Mr. Larkin thought.  He crept down further, watching intently.

And then he saw his son take the used condom off the nightstand and move it
toward his mouth.  Richie was almost in a trance.  Richie said softly, "Oh,
please, Daddy!" and then put the condom in his mouth, inside out.

"He's eating my cum!" Mr. Larkin thought, and he crept further down the
stairs.  He wanted to see more of this, to see it to the end.  But the
creaking second step gave him away.  As he settled his foot on it, it let
out a creaking groan, and Richie sat up and spun around in horror.  His
pants were still down, his hand on his cock, and the used condom dangling
out of the side of his mouth.

"Dad!" Richie said, spitting out the condom on the floor.  For a brief
moment they were both frozen there in time, staring at one another, each
wondering what the other would do.  Mr. Larkin felt a twitching in his
crotch.  He finally broke the silence.

"Richie," he said, "I'm SO disappointed in you!"

Richie dropped his gaze.  His Father would no doubt disown him now.

"If you wanted my cum, all you had to do was ask!" he said with a
broadening grin.

Mr. Larkin climbed down the last two steps of the basement stairs and
unzipped his fly.

Richie relaxe.  Could this really be happening?

No more used condoms for Richie!