Date: Thu, 17 Mar 2016 22:28:06 +0000 (UTC)
From: kevin Donovan <letsgonaked2000@yahoo.com>
Subject: "Ruined"  Chapter One, gay incest

                                     RUINED



                                By Kevin Donovan



      This is a gay, erotic fiction.  It includes graphic accounts of sex
    between fictional consenting males who are of legal age to have sex with
      one another where they fictionally live.  If you don't want to read
     that, don't.  If you are too young to read it, don't.  You know very
    well this is just a fantasy that could not and should not take place in
                          real life, so don't try it.



               All rights reserved.  Do not copy or distribute.



                Please remember to send a contribution to Nifty.

               Comments are welcome at letsgonaked2000@yahoo.com



                                  CHAPTER ONE


                My dad, Jack, is the coolest dad I've ever known, and all
my friends would agree.  Partly, I'm sure it helps that he is the
youngest of any of my friends' dads, at only sixteen years more than me.
My mom was seventeen when the two of them, on a church retreat, fucked up
really bad, literally, and made me.  It being a church thing and all,
they decided to have me, but I was supposed to be put up for adoption.
Before I was born, though, Dad's parents, also cool people, kind of
insisted that they adopt me.  Mom's 'rents were against it--they wanted
me gone.  But Mom finally came around, thinking she might want to spend
some time with me later on, or at least see how I turned out, and maybe
not have me track her down at some inconvenient time way down the road.

                It turns out, she never did want to.  She lives in London
now, and I don't expect ever to feel the need to track her down.  She
quit sending birthday and Christmas gifts when I was twelve, and cards
when I was fifteen.   She married there and has a couple of Brit kids,
who knows, maybe more by now, so she doesn't need me.

                My dad does need me, though, and he has always made that
very clear.  He finished school and even college--in three years--while I
was still a pre-schooler.  He took a job selling real estate right
nearby, so he could be part of my life, and he made it to nearly all of
my tee-ball and soccer matches.  Then came the day, in third grade, when
he and the school principal came and got me from my class and took me to
the principal's office to sit me down and tell me, in a quiet place, that
Grammy and Grandy had been broad-sided by a drunk driver at the entrance
to Wal-Mart.  Grammy had died at the scene; Grandy held on for a day and
a half, but joined his wife of twenty-eight years in a joint funeral
later in the week.  They were only in their fifties, and I still miss
them.

                I went to live with Dad.  That was not a huge change,
since I had a room at his house, anyway, and had often slept over.  It
was hard for both of us, though, for a long time.  Dad and his younger
brother, Will, received some life insurance and an estate settlement.
Later, they also got to split a very substantial settlement from the
drunk driver's insurance.  He did some jail time, and wouldn't be needing
insurance for a while, Dad said, "unless it was on his butt."  I
eventually figured out what he meant by that.  Our part was put aside for
my college education.  Dad had a beautiful, three- bedroom home on a
three-acre lot, with a lot of trees, and a very private swimming pool.  I
had my college tuition sewed up.  We were sad, but financially, sitting
pretty.  Or so we thought.

                There were other ways, though, all along, that my Dad was
cooler than the competition.  He was the handsomest, fittest, and
best-dressed dad any of us knew.  Women practically threw themselves at
him, even I noticed, and as a kid, I was not all that attuned to that
sort of thing.  He is always charming to the ladies, but I never saw him
give any of them much encouragement.  Once, when I was still pretty
young, I heard him say to his brother Will that he had had straight sex
exactly once, and if it hadn't been for what that experience got him, he
would just as soon have passed.  I didn't know what he got out of it for
a long time, but I finally figured out, he meant me.  That made me love
him even more, knowing that, even just talking to Will, he made it a
point to be complimentary to me.

                I did learn about sex in due time, and Dad taught me.  He
didn't talk down to me, or make me feel like an idiot, he just told me
about it and said if I ever had questions, he would always answer them
honestly, to the best of his ability.  I knew he would, too.  Maybe it
helped that we were both sitting naked on the edge of the pool at the
time he told me.  It made gesturing and demonstrating a whole lot easier.

                We always swam naked in our pool, and we didn't wear
clothes at other times, too, if we just didn't feel like it.  Will did
the same at our house, and so did Mike, their friend and Dad's business
partner, and a few other friends of theirs who came over occasionally to
drink beer and grill around the pool, or maybe watch a sports event in
our rec room.  I never thought much of it, but I was used to seeing all
of these guys in the altogether.  But one afternoon, Dad had fallen
asleep on the chaise by the pool, and I went out to ask him some
question.  He was lying there, snoring, on his back, and his dick was
swollen up huge, like a bumble-bee had stung it or something.  I shook
him by the shoulder and woke him up, kind of panicky.

                "Wha...Huh?"  He sat up quick, shaking his groggy head.
"What in the world, Joey?  What' going on?"

                "Look, Dad!  There's something bad wrong with your
dick!"  (We never used baby or clinical terms in our talks.  That was one
of the ways Dad always handled things so much cooler than other
parents.)  "You'd better go to the hospital, quick!"

                "No, Joey, thanks for your concern, Bud, but there's
nothing wrong with it.  I guess you've just never seen, or noticed it
like this before.  This is normal, and it happens a lot while I sleep,
but other times, too."

                "Why is it so huge?" I asked, still concerned.

                "Well, Joey, 'cause I'm a grown man, that's why, so I
have a grown-up dick."

                "Wow!  I never knew men had such gigantic cocks, Dad (I
had recently added "cock" to my conversational vocabulary, and Dad let it
slide.)  "Do all men get that big down there?  Will I be that big?"  It
seemed I had a long way to go in that department.

                "Well.... Now there you have me, Joey, Buddy.  I know I
said you should ask me questions, and I will always answer, so here goes,
and if this gets to be more than you need to know, just say so, OK?  Part
of it is because I'm a grown-up man, but there's more, too.  Another part
is genetics, what you inherit from your parents.  Dicks come in different
sizes, from very small, to--well, to this size.  Mine is the biggest I've
ever seen in person, except for your Uncle Will's, and he says, your
Grandy's.  I never saw our dad's, but Will claims he did, and it was this
big.  I'd say your chances of having a really big dick are pretty good,
so I hope you're OK with that."

                "I think it's cool, Dad.  It's amazing. But why does it
change when you sleep to get so much bigger and so hard?"

                "You remember what I told you about sex between a man and
a woman?  How the man uses his dick to insert his sperms into the woman's
pussy, so it can fertilize her egg and start a baby to growing?"

                I nodded.

                "Well, remember, getting stiff like this makes it go
inside her easy, and being longer helps the sperm go in deeper to get
near to the egg."

                That made sense to me.  I'm sure he had said this in his
earlier talk, but seeing the erection itself made it much more real.  I
was fascinated.  And Dad's dick was not going down to normal at all.

                "So did you stick that inside of my mom?"

                "Of course.  That's how it works."

                "Why?"

                Dad laughed loud.  "Because it feels really, really good
to do it, and especially when the sperm shoots out."

                "It doesn't look to me like it would feel very good to
her."

                He laughed even louder.  "No, Bud, she said it hurt like
hell.  She bled so much, we were both scared half to death.  Of course,
at the time, neither of us knew what an unusual tool we were dealing
with.  But after that, she would never let me near her with it again.
That one time was all it took, though, and here you are!"  He tousled my
hair in the classic father-son gesture of affection.

                "Well, she has a husband now," I observed, supposing she
had gotten over her earlier dread of the beastly organ.

                "We can only assume that he must be considerably less
blessed in the dick department," Dad grinned.  "At least, I like to think
so."

                "I wonder what the sperm looks like.  Does it ever come
out of the woman's pussy?  Have you seen any?"

                "Oh, sure, I see it all the time.  Men can make it come
out on their own, with their hand, or anything that will rub up and down
long enough. It isn't only for making babies."

                "Will you show me some?"

                "Are you sure that isn't over the top for you?  I don't
want you emotionally scarred, you know."

                "You said I could ask...."

                "Well, OK, but this is very private.  You have to not
mention this to anybody, Joey, seriously."

                I nodded gravely.  "I promise."

                "We should go inside for this.  I have lubricant in
there.  I kind of need to do this, anyway, to keep the pipes flowing
right.  Joey, somebody may tell you sometime that this is bad or not to
be done much, or not after marriage, or something.  That's crap.  A man
needs to jerk off regularly, whenever he feels the urge, so not to get
all blocked up inside.  Your nuts were made to produce this sperm.  If
you don't dump out a load regular, they don't get to do their job, OK?"

                I stored away the term 'jerk off' for future use.

                "How often?"

                "Depends on the guy.  Once a day, once every few days,
four times a day, depending on your own sex drive."

                "How often do you do it?"

                He grinned.  "About three times a day.  I have a high sex
drive, Bud, so shoot me.  It's just the way I am."

                "And you've been doing this since you were sixteen?"

                "Oh, no, since eleven.  The episode with your mom was at
sixteen, but I was already pumping some serious sperm before that."

                "I'm eleven now."

                He grinned again.  "Who knows, you may be ready to
start.  Or will be soon.  You'll have a new favorite hobby, that's for
sure."

                We had arrived at his bedroom at this point, with me
taking every opportunity to examine my dad's naked backside all the way.
I had memorized every feature of his anatomy long before this, but I
still enjoyed looking at him, in all his parts.  I particularly enjoyed
seeing his balls hang down from the rear, swaying back and forth as he
walked.  Dad had very pendulous balls.  He was six feet tall, and
naturally slender but he also worked out, "to keep things in place," he
said.  His legs were long and strong, without being bulky, and his butt
was lean and rounded.  His feet were beautiful, and small, for a man his
height, just size nine.  From a narrow waist, his back spread into wide
shoulders, and you could easily see their musculature beneath smooth
tanned skin.  He kept his hair trimmed short, and he almost looked like a
military man, but he never was.  He once said he was too busy being my
dad to enlist.

                He bent to reach into his night table drawer and pulled
out a large tube, and in the bending, I could get a glimpse into his
crack.  Nestled in a swath of dark hair, his little wrinkled, light brown
butt-hole seemed to wink at me.  I didn't know why I was so fascinated by
that, but I was.

                Dad turned, sat on the bed, and gave me his winning,
room-lighting smile, this one being kind of half-way between endearingly
embarrassed and mischievously exhibitionistic.  He was handsome, no
gorgeous, both ways--remember, my dad was only in his mid-twenties then.
I studied his chest, with its pumped pecs and cute little nipples, just
lightly sprinkled with a swath of more dark hair across them, then
gathering in a sort of wave that ran down across his navel to broaden
somewhat into a little hedge of pubes above that enormous dick of his.  I
know now, he was trimming those pubes, but at the time, I thought they
just grew that neatly.

                He rolled gracefully onto the center of the bed and
opened the tube to squirt out a palm-full.  Then he spread the goo over
his dick, which had not gone down a bit in the moving from poolside to
bedroom.   It was obviously still raring to go.

                "Just settle back, watch, and learn Bud.  This may take a
few minutes, but it is one of the most pleasurable parts of any day for a
man."

                I sat, one leg drawn up, facing him and watched raptly.
I was wearing shorts and tee, as befits the audience.  He began to
stroke, massage, and piston his long shaft, tickling more delicately when
he reached the large, swollen head of it.

                "Some ball work helps, too," he said, as he used his left
hand to fondle his nuts in their (I now know) shaved sack.

                He stroked, I stared.  He panted.  His eyes closed.  His
facial expression became a moving display of tension, relaxation, bliss,
anticipation--just about every level of joy and pleasure imaginable.  His
legs and feet twitched.

                "Almost there," he muttered.

                "Almost."

                "Get ready."  His hand moved faster.  His feet tensed,
heels pressed into the mattress.

                "OK, here we go."

                The pace continued to quicken.  He was now pumping that
organ about as fast as he could pump.

                "Awwwrgh.  Oh, fuck.  I'm cumming!"

                About three more pumps, and a jet of something catapulted
out of the end of his dick and shot over his head onto the headboard.  It
was followed immediately by two more, which landed on his own cheek and
upper shoulder.  It was a whitish, wet goo.  Half a dozen more made it
onto his chest and abdomen, trailing down to puddle in his navel and make
little pools on his stomach.  He slowly squeezed and milked his rod, and
more just oozed out the pee slit and ran down to his fist.  He let out a
big sigh and opened his eyes.  He gave a little involuntary shudder.

                "That was a big one.  Helps to have an appreciative
audience, I guess.  Well, that's it, Buck-O.  That's jacking off.
There's no act two, or anything.  You spew the goo, and then you're
through."

                'Jacking off,' another variation to store away.

                But then, he did the most amazing thing.  He took his
pointer finger and used it to scoop up the gob of goo that had landed on
his shoulder.  And he sucked it off his finger!

                "You can EAT it?!"

                He chuckled.  "I bet every man has at least tasted it at
some time or other.  Some like it, some don't."  His smile let me know he
was one who did.

                He scooped up another finger-full from down near his
belly button.  He held it out to me!

                "Try some?" he offered.  "You don't have to."

                I leaned over and took his finger into my mouth.  I don't
know what I expected, but not this.

                "Salty and sweet at the same time."

                "I guess it's what they call an acquired taste.  Like
beer," he laughed.

                "No, better than beer."  I was not a beer fan at that
time.

                Dad laughed.  "You know, I kind of think so, too."

                From that day, something shifted in our relationship.  It
was already very strong, but it became even better.  I found a new,
econo-size container of unscented body lotion on my night table the next
day.  And Dad didn't bother to close his bedroom door, day or night, and
he whacked off, as he said at least three times a day.  If I was passing
his room while he was at it, I could step inside and watch the show, and
he never commented one way or the other.  Sometimes, I would sit on the
side of the bed and watch, and sometimes, would take a sample of his jizz
to taste.

                "Eat more fruit," I commented once, and he laughed as if
that was the funniest thing ever.  I just thought a touch more sweetness
would be helpful, and supposed fruit might give it that.  Lucky guess.

                "Good suggestion," he answered.

                Of course, I didn't delay in trying out some of my dad's
technique myself.  I had a few dry cums, which were mind-blowing of
themselves, but within a week or so after his demo, I had my first
ejaculation of my own, a weak, watery cum that had almost no taste to it
at all.  It thickened up quickly, though, and before long, I was making
air babies right and left.  I began to leave my bedroom door open, too.
Fair's fair.  Sure enough, I was whacking away one afternoon after
school, and my dad passed by.  Hearing the tell-tale noises, he stopped,
backed up, and peered into my room.  I was well into the throes, just
moments from blast-off.  I just grunted.  He walked over to the bedside
for the final countdown and ignition.  Gasping, I shot half a dozen thin
ropes across my abdomen and chest.

                "Woo hoo!" Dad exulted.  "Way to go, Joe!  And just look
at that baby-maker, Joey--it's grown three inches since last week!  All
the exercise must be good for it!"

                I don't know about three inches, but it WAS bigger, and I
was proud he noticed.  My cock continued to grow fast at that point, so
that by age fourteen, it was almost as big as Dad's, and just as thick.
I picked up the remainder of his size more gradually.  We were both cut
(Grammy had it done to me while Dad was still kind of out of the
picture), and that made our father-son dick package look identical.  I
jacked off even more than Dad during that time.  Often, we did it
together, especially while watching a movie or sports event on TV.  We
would edge for the whole program, him being much more patient at that
than me--but sometimes, I got two cums to his one, very intense one.

                One Saturday night, Dad was out, and I had my friend
Carlos over to watch a DVD.  It was a pretty sexy movie, though not
explicit, with some hot marines in it.  I slid my pants off and started
playing with myself.  Carlos looked over curiously, and said, "What the
fuck, man?" and in a few minutes, his pants were down, and he was
jacking, too.  Carlos had a pretty big dick, but not as big as mine.  It
looked different, though, at the end, sort of shrouded over, somehow.  I
asked him why, and he came over to show me his foreskin.

                "Cool."  I liked the way it operated, like a convertible.
"Can I touch it?"

                Carlos shrugged.  "Sure, why not."

                I played with it and jacked on it.

                "I'm straight, and I really want a girl to do this shit
with.  But what you're doing feels real good, so that's OK, too."

                "I'm gay.  I don't have any interest in doing this sort
of thing with a girl."

                "I figured.  But don't worry, I'm sure not going to
mention it to anybody."

                All of a sudden, Dad was standing there at the doorway.
In the intensity of the moment, we had not heard him come it.  He just
said, "Carry on, men.  I'll be in my room."

                Carlos almost jumped over the coffee table, but I just
kept flailing on my dick, as he rushed back to his chair, and in about
thirty seconds, I came all over my stomach.  Carlos got back in stride
soon enough, and he came back over and blew his load on my stomach, too.

                "There, just one clean-up, Turkey.  You shoulda told me
your dad might come in."

                "Hell, I didn't know.  But he doesn't give a shit if we
jack off."

                "Good thing, too."  He chuckled nervously.  "But, since
he didn't get mad, fuck, it was kind of a turn-on having him see us."

                After that, Carlos and I jacked together fairly
regularly, at our place, or in his room at his dad's hotel.  His dad,
Roberto, managed a very posh hotel along the Airport Boulevard, that
catered to well-heeled business travelers.  He had a deluxe apartment
there to live in.  But it was not the Penthouse, which I would have taken
if it were me.  He took a large, two-bedroom suite on the third floor,
with not much of a view.  When Carlos came to live with him after his
mother married some Bozo, Roberto incorporated another regular room next
door to it, to use as a TV room.  That was where we mostly hung out when
I was there.  Roberto seemed to be on management duty all the time.  But
even though I already knew then that I was attracted to males rather than
females, and I knew Carlos was at least open minded about that, I also
knew that I didn't have any romantic interest in Carlos.  He was a hot
guy and all, but we were too good friends to fuck it all up with a sexual
relationship, too.  Or so I thought.

                Dad's bedroom door was not absolutely always open to me
during those early teen years.  Every once in a while, maybe once or
twice per month, I would come in from the mall or from a movie on a
Friday or Saturday night, and his door would be closed.  I would sing
out, "It's me, Dad!" and he would answer, "OK, Joey, see you in the
morning," and I would go on to my room, down and across the hall, and
prep for bed.

                But all was not quiet in the master suite.  I would hear
bumping noises, rhythmic ones, and skin on skin slapping sounds.  There
would be grunts and moans from time to time, and even the occasional
spontaneous ecstatic outburst.  Oddly, all were within the male
register.  I thought for a couple of years that Dad was bringing home
some chick he'd met, maybe even one of the women at his office, but I
marveled at how quiet they all were.  "Shit, Dad," I said to myself once,
"Go for it!  Make the bitch scream with that big dick of yours!"  But
nothing was ever said, directly, and his guest was always gone before I
got up in the morning.  Bleary-eyed, Dad would be having coffee alone
when I came out.

                That changed one Sunday morning, after the noises had
been pretty intense during much of the night.  Dad was usually busy with
open houses on Sunday afternoons, and sometimes, his partner Mike was
doing one with him, especially if it was at some new development they
both represented.  On this Sunday morning, I got up, tousle-headed, and
stumbled into the kitchen for some juice, naked.  There sat Mike, at the
kitchen island, also naked, sipping a mug of coffee.

                "Good morning, Joey," he said, kind of surprised I
guess.  "I thought you'd be sound asleep until eleven, at least."

                "Usually.  Blinds were open and the sun came in."

                "Your dad's in the shower," he said, as if that were
important information.  He took his coffee and sauntered back toward the
bedroom.  I admired his sexy ass as he walked.  Damn, I thought, I am one
sick dude.  Mike had to be pushing thirty, since he was in my Uncle
Will's class in school.

                By this time, I'd pieced together that my dad might be
gay.  All the easier for my own coming out, later, at the opportune
moment, I thought.  So I was not shocked, but I knew Mike was married and
had a couple of kids, both pre-school-age.  He had been best friends with
Uncle Will when they were kids.  Will was three years younger than Dad,
so he was at home with me and the G's when I was little, until he went to
college when I was five.  Mike was at our house a lot while they were in
high school.  Then, when he graduated college, Will lived with Dad and me
for a year, before he got his own place, and again, we saw a lot of
Mike.  Will was a CPA.  It got to be confusing who was the brother and
who was whose best friend, frankly.  During that year, Mike and Dad
decided to open their own real estate agency together.  Both were
handsome, outgoing young men, and they soon made a great success of it.
Mike married Connie, a school teacher, but Will had never married
anybody.  His condo was less than a mile away from us, and Mike and
Connie had a house around the block, in our same subdivision.

                I took my juice and went back to my room, where I
sprawled on the bed to beat off.  I deliberately left the door open, even
though I knew Mike was in the house.  What the fuck.  I also knew he and
my dad had been spanking the monkey together most of the night.  I only
wished they had left their door open, too.  And maybe a light on! What
better sex education could there be than that!

                Sure enough, Dad came in, wrapped in his bath towel, and
sat on the edge of the bed.  I was just at the entrance of paradise, and
I kept on pumping.  For the first time ever, Dad reached out and grasped
my balls as I stroked.  He massaged them gently for me while I focused on
my slickened cock.  His warm hand on my nuts hastened me along, and I
shot off a big load within a minute or so.    I let go of my dick,
swiping the cum off the head of it with my fingers and moving them to my
mouth for licking.  Dad continued to fondle my sack.  It felt sublime.

                In a moment, I asked, "So, am I going to have two dads,
now?"

                He shook his head, seriously.  "No, Joey, you're stuck
with just me.  You'll never have any other dad but me, no matter what.  I
just like to have a guest over sometimes."

                "We have a spare bedroom."

                "I know.  But Mike and I like to be together."

                "Dad, I understand.  More than you know, OK?"

                "No, I know.  We can talk about it when you want to, or
not.  Just so you're OK."

                "I'm OK.  I'm just...just a little jealous, that's all.
But I've known Mike all my life, it's not like he's a stranger."

                Still holding my balls, Dad leaned down and took his
taste of my sperm, sucking the cum from the root of my cock, among the
pubes.  Then, he slid up the shaft and took the head of my dick into his
mouth, and cleaned it of its remaining sperm.  I almost shot again, just
from that first sample of a suck-off.  He got up and went to the door.

                "I'll pick up some strawberries this afternoon."  And he
disappeared, back into his bedroom with Mike.