Date: Sat, 22 Dec 2012 13:02:30 +0000 From: Rob Armstrong <robarmstrong26@hotmail.co.uk> Subject: Spike's Diaries: Dustin SPIKE'S DIARIES: DUSTIN THIS STORY CONTAINS THEMES OF INCEST BETWEEN A FATHER AND HIS ADULT SON, WATERSPORTS AND DOMINATION. THESE CHARACTERS EXIST IN AN AIDS FREE, CONSEQUENCE FREE, FANTASY PARALLEL UNIVERSE AND ARE NOT TO BE EMULATED. PLEASE SUPPORT NIFTY WITH YOUR DONATIONS AND KEEP THIS INCREDIBLE RESOURCE GOING. NB: See 'Spike's Piercing Parlour' series, November 24th 2012 Top Secret: The following is featured in the research records of Pentagon operatives George 'Doc' Schultz and Carmine 'Spike' Russo, in connection with their ongoing studies of the evermore widespread effects of Formula 51.... DIARY OF DUSTIN BLANE: 18yr old: Beaver Springs, Neb. (Transcript of audio recording) NOVEMBER 21st Okay, here goes. Mr Holloway says, like, we gotta keep a diary for English class - but he didn't say we gotta write shit down. So I'm recording it on Dad's old dictaphone. So... introductions... I'm Dustin Jeremiah Blane - but everybody calls me Dusty - 17 years old, football jock. I live with my folks fifteen miles outside Lincoln, Nebraska. Hate study, love pussy - yeah, maybe I'll edit that part out later - Mr Holloway said we should do that. Just express whatever's in our heads and then cut out what we don't want anyone else to know about - stream-of-consiousness, or some shit like that. Yeah, the snow's piling up pretty thick outside already. Dad was lucky to make it home in time for Thanksgiving tomorrow. Work takes him away a lot and for the last few weeks he's been in New York. Thank fuck he's back! Somebody I can shoot the shit with and play some ball. It ain't easy in a house full of women, let me tell ya! With Mom and three sisters, the chatter level is damn-near deafening! My only esape is to the gym, and even there you got women yap-yap-yapping! Man, I love pussy, but the yapping that comes outta the other end... It ain't just the blowjob a guy loves - it's the peace and quiet! Oh, an there's been yapping aplenty from Mom about Dad's cool new tattoo. First one he ever had. She hates it. She's like, 'What's a man your age thinking - getting a tattoo?' Jeez, I mean sure, the guy's forty but he ain't DEAD... 'And as for that OTHER thing...' she adds, looking down at Dad's pants for some reason. Dad just grins but she shushes him as if he said something he shouldn't. The tattoo's way cool, sitting on one beefy bicep. Don't know what it means, exactly. Dad just grins when I ask and says he just liked the design. It's a heart wrapped in barbed wire, with a scroll beneath. The scroll reads 'Spike's NYC'. Huh. Go figure. NOVEMBER 24th Thanksgiving was okay. Yesterday was Black Friday and Dad insisted on us men going bargain shopping on our own this year. Fucking awesome, man! Dad's gotten real cool since his trip to New York. More like a buddy, you know? He insisted on coming into the changing cubicles with me when I was trying stuff on. He even suggested I try jeans on without any underwear! How cool was that! And it's true, jeans hang much better when you go commando. Who knew he had such a good eye? It was real cramped in some of those changing rooms, especially with both of us being such built guys, but Dad supported me with a hand on my ass, getting jeans on and off. In one real high-end place, one of the salesmen noticed that Dad kept following me into the changing room. He was a good-looking blond dude, kinda like a male model, sharp in a tie and pin-striped vest. He got real curious about what we were doing in there for some reason. I dunno, maybe he thought Dad and I were stealing stuff? Anyways, he comes grinning to the door of the changing room and asks if he can be of any help. Dad looks him up and down some. Then they give each other a little smile - I guess they realised there just wasn't a problem. Dad then reveals his intention to buy me my very first suit, and he invites the guy to come into the cubicle with us to measure me up. Dude must really love his job, cause his eyes light up and he whips the tape measure from round his neck like it's a fuckin' bull-whip... Me and Dad have both been trying on shirts, so right now we're barechested, Dad in his chinos and me in the skin tight jeans he just bought me. It's even more of a crush in there with three of us, and the blond guy's hands are just everywhere as he tries to keep his balance. Then he's pressed up tight against me as he takes the various measurements of my upper body. He's real thorough as he runs his hands over my beefy muscles. He's nice, complimenting me on my stats. 'You have superb muscle development, sir,' he said, kinda breathy, 'just like your father here.' Next his arms go round my waist as he takes that reading too. Finally he's on his knees in front of me, measuring me hip to floor. 'Don't forget to measure his inseam, fella,' Dad reminds him - kinda unnecessary, I think, the guy obviously knows his job for crissakes. But he takes it in good part and only gives a little smile up at Dad. And next thing I know he's got the tape lined up the inside of my leg, one hand down at my ankle, the other brushing up against my junk! 'Whoa, fella!' I cry, 'Watch that hand against my balls!' 'Don't be a baby, Dusty,' chides Dad, swatting me on my behind, 'the guy's gotta measure the inseam of your trousers. Now man up and let him do his job.' That was all very well for Dad, but he wasn't wearing skin tight jeans and no underwear! Dad placed his hands on my bare pecs, holding me still, as the guy smiled at him again, and pushed the knuckles of that hand even further up into my pouch... ...not brushing anymore, so much as... ...rubbing... ...kneading... ...more like he was feeling me up... ...except that Dad was here, and he'd never have let anyone feel up his own son... There was silence, as the guy worked the back of his hand hard into my crotch. God, it was so embarrassing - I'd sprung a boner... ...aware of Dad's naked chest pressing into my sweaty back, his hands tight on my pecs, hot breath on my neck... ...and the sales guy accidentaly rubbing my hard rod... Finally he got the measurement. Much longer and I'd have blown a load in my new jeans. Even so there was a wet spot he couldn't have failed to notice. I was very red in the face when he rose to his feet and couldn't look him or Dad in the eye. Dad let go of me. He and the salesman exchanged a chuckle, which I found excruciatingly embarrassing. Dad swatted me on the ass again, then kinda patted it like I was some girl. Shit! He wiped down my sweaty back with my T-shirt and told me to put it on. Whaddya know? He'd mixed up his Tee with mine. Now I was wearing his and I smelled of him. His wet now in my armpits. Kinda nice - I smelled like Dad and sweat. I don't know why Dad held his jacket in front of him as we left the store - it was cold outside in the mall - but I noticed him slip a piece of paper to the salesman. Oh, of course. Our phone number. For when my suit's ready. Yet now I come to think of it, I don't remember the sales guy writing down a single measurement. Next we headed into a diner for lunch. At Dad's suggestion I had a pretty big coke with my cheese burger, but by the end of the meal I had to take a wicked pee. I excused myself from the table and headed into the men's room. The urinal in there is the long, continuous type, with a metal trough. I was still kinda hard from getting my balls worked, but I've always been able to pee with a hardon. Besides, I love to piss in public like this - something kinda primitive and manly about a bunch of dudes pissing together. I was on my own today. I hauled out my dick and got peeing. It gushed out of me like a firehose. A moment later I heard the door open and another guy stepped up to the trough. (WHISPERS) I can never resist sneaking a peek at another dude's piece... 'specially when it's pissin' out a good healthy load... ...this guy was like me, able to piss thru a hardon and fuck, the guy had a thick ring piercing thru the juicy cut head. Twin streams sprayed out from that iron hard dick. Had a wicked downward curve to it, like mine, and up the shaft he had this really cool tattoo design... ...fuck, THAT musta hurt like a bitch... The design was coils of barbed wire, just like the tattoo Dad... ...oh, fuck me Judas... ...my eyes traveled upwards from the dick to its owner... ...it WAS fucking Dad! No wonder our dicks were similar. And that we could both piss with a hardon. Dad had a pierced dick now! Dad's dick was tattooed now! I had been watching my own Dad taking a piss! Dad had seen me checking out his pierced, tattooed dick! While he pissed! But fuck me again! I wasn't in any kind of trouble 'cos Dad was checking me out too. Our eyes met for a moment. But then he was glued back to my pissing hardon again. Next thing he pulled out his balls for me to see as well. My heart in my chest.... I did the same... my low hangers swinging and getting splashed as I pissed... ...man, that was nasty... We Blane men must have bladders of elephants, 'cos the two of us were standing there for a coon's age, openly watching the other piss. And watching each other watch each other piss. I don't know what the look in Dad's eye meant - it was serious, intense - but there was a secret in it as well. One I understood, just by intinct I guess. Dad's piss was rich and golden. Man it was strong, I could smell it from the other end of the trough. Made my dick stiffen up even more, and I'm sure I saw his bob up and down a few times. Then we were done. Our flows trickled to nothing and we hauled our meaty hogs, still hard and dripping sumthin a little bit thicker than piss. Mine coated the inside of my jeans with a generous smear of juice, and judging by the wet patch over the bulge in Dad's chinos, he was commando as well. He patted my behind again, softly, as we left the men's room. Neither of us have mentioned it since. DECEMBER 8th Ain't done my diary in a coupla weeks, been too busy jacking off. Coupla days after the mall was my eighteenth birthday - yeah yeah, happy birthday to me, yadda yadda - and Mom and Dad had a 'discussion' about what we should do. Dad was all for taking me on a guy's night out, my first night of 'being legal'. Don't know what he means there, I won't be legal to buy booze for another three years yet. Mom, on the other hand, wanted to make it a family occasion and thought dinner at a nice restautant would be more appropriate. Of course, I woulda preferred a night out with my buddies from the football team, but who the fuck was I? Only the frickin' birthday boy! Mom won out. Yeah, shocker I know. Fact was, the last few days I hadn't been able to get the incident in that diner's men's room out of my head. All I could see was Dad's rock hard cock, pierced and tattooed, proudly pissing out a stream. I had barely any appetite... I threw down my napkin and announced I had to go to the bathroom. I caught Dad's eye as I rose from my seat. I didn't mean to, I swear. In fact I tried not to. Dad rose from his chair and made the same announcement. Shit! He preceded me, as we wove our way thru the tables. Just before heading into the men's room he paused to whisper something in the ear of our waiter - a trim, handsome Libyan with a nice goatee. Whaddya know? Another trough urinal. I wondered why Dad had insisted on this place. I was already hard before I took my dick out. Dad deliberately stood right next to me, though it was a long urinal and there was room for six guys, easy. As it was he was practically crowding me... Christ, if anyone walked in on us... He took out his throbbing hog and balls and we both let fly simultaneously, staring at each other's dicks, both of us jacking as we pissed... ...eyes... ...dicks... ...eyes... ...piss-stream... ...fuck, I was insanely turned on. Dad's jet was so fierce that I even got a bit of sprayback on my hand. I felt like his droplets were burning thru my skin. ...didn't wash that hand for days... A third guy appeared on Dad's other side. It was the hot Lybian. He wasn't pissing, he was jacking his dick, a look of utter amazement on his face as he watched Dad and me piss side by side... We were performing for him. That's what Dad had set up. He wanted us to have an audience. The poor sap couldn't believe his frickin luck! 'Father and sohn, mhannn,' he whispered in his sexy accent, frantically jerkin off, 'Fookeen hawt, mahnn...' Dad started to aim his spray in wide arcs across the pissoir. I joined in his silly game, childish tho it was, and tried to make wider arcs than Dad. I gasped when out streams crossed - our eyes went to each other. And there was that strange intensity again. As we finished pissing the waiter guy shot his load... all over Dad's and my dicks - his aim has to be phenomenal - coating us both generously with his offering. How I didn't cum myself, I'll never know. I was ready to blow as it was, but Dad held up a finger and shook his head. I stopped. Instead he rubbed the Lybian's cum into his dick shaft and round the angry purple head, like it was lotion. I followed his example - carefully, as I didn't want to blow if that wasn't what Dad wanted. The waiter got on his knees, offering to suck us both off... but Dad shook his head, smiling, and placed instead a generous roll of bills in the guy's top pocket. He looked disappointed but happy with the tip. We began to make our way out and back to the table. Dad had arranged for the waiter to walk directly in front of me - thus hiding the boner that I had tenting my dress pants - all the more obvious as Dad had encouraged me to go commando again. As we exited the men's room, Dad paused me with a hand on my shoulder. He didn't pat my ass this time. He fondled it thru the thin fabric, briefly pressing his bony middle finger against the length of my ass crack, while the waiter ground his ass back into my boner... Since then, we have taken every opportunity possible, made every excuse, to watch each other pissing at a public urinal. Sometimes Dad arranges an audience for us, sometimes not. We never jack all the way off. We just piss. Fuck knows why, but it turns us both on like crazy. We never discuss it. Unspoke rule. But what the fuck HAPPENED to Dad in New York? My only release is jerking off at night - my girlfriend's outta town till Christmas. DECEMBER 9th Fucking hot scene today in the park toilets. Place was freezing, but Dad and me heated it up some. It's kinda off the beaten track, but well known to queers, apparently. Even the buff traffic cop who walked in was jacking off to us. I swear to God, I don't know how Dad knows half these guys. The places we been goin' have gotten progressively sleazier and sleazier. From diner to restaurant to mall men's room to truck stop to park toilet, and so on... Dad's choosings, not mine. But hey, the ranker the place the more I bone up these days. Just the faintest scent of piss or shit and my dick's up like a rocket... The cop came a load when Dad pissed on his cock, and in return we got a generous helping of cop-sperm to rub into our dicks. Then later we got the call from the suit outfitters. Unbelievably the guy had remembered my measurements after all, and my suit was ready for final fitting. We pick it up tomorrow. Just us guys, naturally. DECEMBER 10th A little more savvy to Dad's games now, I didn't need to be told to go commando for my suit fitting. In fact I made a point of it. The blond salesman nearly flipped when I removed my jeans for him in the changing cubicle. My boner nearly took his eye out. He was almost panting like a puppy as I allowed him to slide the suit pants up my nude body. I tucked the boner into the pants, but I let him pull up the zipper. The two of us looked at Dad and he gave us the nod. With a hungry grin the salesman started groping my dick thru the pants. We smiled at each other as he mashed and grabbed it, even pressing his face up against my bulge. Dad moved in close behind me, touching me up properly for the first time as he groped my ass thru the fine cotton, kneading and working my firm jock buns... His breath was hot at my ear as he transferred his hands to my meaty pecs and started playing with my nipples. His crotch was at my ass, now, pressing his boner into it thru two layers of pants. 'He's a hot cocksucker, ain't he son?' he breathed, 'Want him to suck you off?' At last! Dad was finally letting me get some action! The guy unleashed my throbbing dick from the pants he'd only just zippered it into! It wasn't batting the open air for long, however, as the next moment he glommed it down his deep throat in one practised lunge. Oh my God! NOTHING prepares you for your first blow-job from a guy. Best. Blow job. Ever. No girl has ever worked for me the magic that talented throat and mouth did. Not even close. As the sales guy transported me to heaven, dad ground his crotch into my ass and pinched my tits... harder and harder.... He licked my neck in long strokes and I just melted into him. I swear to God, man, he was doing damn near as much for me as the cocksucker was. Finally I began to huff and puff. The tongue swirling round my head and digging into my piss slit sent me over the edge. Dad clamped a hand over my mouth so nobody out in the store would hear my howl of ecstasy. The guy cleaned me off with a tissue and the rest of the fitting went as normal. Not before he offered to suck Dad off too, of course, but Dad politely declined, content to grope his boner throughout the rest of the time in the changing room. The suit fit to perfection and no alterations were needed. We thanked the salesman - he thanked us! - and we went on our way. DECEMBER 16th Oh my God, dear diary, do I have a story for you today. Me and Dad kinda toned things down a little during the last week, only making a couple of appearances at sleazy toilets on the outskirts of town. There was no further touching as there had been at the store, and I was getting frustrated to the point of fever pitch. Until Friday evening, when Mom mentioned she and the girls were headed to Aunt Jean's for a last pre-Christmas visit. She'd taken pity on me and Dad, who'd never gotten along too well with Jean, and let us off. Aunt Jean lived over the other side of frickin Iowa, so it was going to be a weekend affair. We waved them off yesterday morning and they won't be back until tomorrow. Dad immediately announced that we were to have our long-awaited guys' night out. Because Dad instructed me to wear the new suit, and he was similarly attired, I presumed we were off to some swanky bar in Lincoln - or even Omaha. To tell the truth I was a little disappointed, I'd gotten so used to grittier, earthier places for our shenanigans. So imagine my confusion - but delight - when Dad pulled us up to some trucker bar some miles offa the interstate. Now I can't tell you if it was a gay place. All I know is that there were no women. It was wall-to-wall baseball caps, wifebeaters and plaid. Dad and I stuck out like a couple of Nazi stormtroopers at a Bar Mitzvah. Our smart suits did not make us popular as we made our way thru the growling, hostile crowd to the bar. Dad ordered us a coupla beers with bourbon chasers. 'He legal?' grunted a surly bar keep with a red beard. 'Let me worry about my son's legality, buddy,' replied Dad in a loud voice. With the extra bill roll Dad handed him, the bar keep lost interest in the issue and merely sneered. 'Your funeral - Nieman Marcus.' I got it now. Dad wanted everybody to know we were father and son, and the suits made us look so damned alike there couldn't be any doubt. There couldn't be any missing us either, in spite of how packed this joint was on a Saturday night. The attention we attracted wasn't always negative, but we sure had our share of challenges. 'You an' yur boy look like a pair o' Wall Street fags...' was one. Anybody who came on this way, Dad dealt with by buying them a drink and asking them about their week. In no time the room turned a lot friendlier. Dad always did know how to work a crowd. My ass sure got groped a lot by passers by, as I assume Dad's did from the way he jumped every now and then. Hardly surprising, two good looking, well built jocks like us. But in the main it was good natured. After four beers and two chasers I was feeling pretty buzzed - and in urgent need of the restroom! Needless to say, Dad was close behind me. The restroom here was real funky and I was hard instantly. A steel trough dominated the place, a long mirror on the wall above it, and a couple of stalls stood off to the side. The lighting was low and kinda sexy. But best of all the place reeked of piss. Like I say, don't know if this was a bona fide gay joint, but these guys clearly got REAL friendly with each other, if the dried deposits of cum on every wall and splattering the back of he urinal was to be believed... ...man, didn't they ever flush that nasty urinal? A coupla truckers stood at either end of the trough, checking each other out in the mirror and jerking their fat dicks for each other. Dad and I came between them and stood close side by side. The two truckers got excited at the sight of father and son coming to piss together, especially when Dad unzipped me and reached in to pull my dick out of my fly. I gasped at his touch and he smeared my precum around the head with his thumb. The trough was nasty - somehow the drain had gotten blocked and it was now just a deep river of stinking golden piss that we just added to... As we pissed, Dad reached over and began to grope my ass. He'd never done this before while we were pissing and I FUCKING LOVED IT, gyrating my ass in circles, sending my spraying piss all over the dick of the trucker next to me. The guy leaned in to drink from my piss stream and gulped it down with satisfaction... 'Mmmmm...' the guy moaned, 'how come beer always tastes better comin' out than it does goin' in?' 'Yeah,' said the other trucker to Dad, 'grope yur boy's ass, take it fucker! All public and nasty.... fuckin' hot, man...' By now another three or four guys had stepped into the restroom and stood over by the washbasins, watching the action and groping each others' baskets. The truckers at the trough were jacking furiously. Dad and I worked our meat more calmly, still pissing, but Dad dug his fingers so deep up my trench with his other hand that I worried for the fabric there - I wasn't entirely sure how clean my ass was... Dad and I stared into each other's eyes. His look was so intense that my breath hitched and, as the last of my piss subsided, I felt my balls begin to churn... 'Dad... Dad... I think I'm gonna...' Dad did something he had never done before. He deliberately aimed his stream down at me and pissed all over my dick, my hand and the front of my pants. It was scalding hot, or so it seemed, warming the shaft, bathing my dickhead and jetting right up my piss slit... My dick erupted, splattering the stainless steel back plate with jet after jet of FRESH jock-spooge. 'Ungh.... wayunnnngh....' I cried out, nearly collapsing... The two truckers erupted as well, one spraying his juice on top of mine and the other coating Dad's dick liberally. I had barely finished cumming when Dad grabbed my head roughly and forced me down onto his dick. 'Clean that up!' he yelled, and shoved his cum-splattered tool inside my mouth. Christ, I was assaulted with so many new sensations all at once... First the clatter of Dad's dick piercing against my teeth... then the salty flavors of his last drops of piss and the rich cream of a stranger's load... but most of all the spongy steel of Dad's dickhead that now filled my mouth... By instinct I pulled off and licked the trucker's spooge offa the length of Dad's shaft... then I dove back onto the head and sucked it back in. Dad made me gag when he plunged the tool down my virgin throat and began skull-fucking me... 'Fuuuck...' came murmurs from the excited audience, '... his own fuckin' son, man...' My discomfort didn't last too long, as Dad ripped his sword outta my throat and, still gripping my hair, thrust my face up against the back of the urinal, rubbing it up and down the slimy, piss-soaked suface, only inches from where the trucker's and my cum trickled slowy down. My silk tie was destoyed, soaked in the trough of urine beneath. 'And clean that up too!' he yelled. Licking my Dad's dick was one thing, but a dirty urinal? Suddenly I didn't want to play anymore. 'No fuckin way, man,' and I shook my head, sealing my lips up tight. 'Do it, ya little muscle bitch!' Dad roared, twisting one arm up behind my back and pushing me closer to the cum deposits. I fought back. Dad and I are pretty evenly matched physically, but tonight he had the advantage. He hauled me upright and barked orders to the waching crowd. 'Hold him still!' There was no shortage of volunteers - blue collar men don't like to see a boy disobeying his father - and in a second I was pinned by strong anonymous hands. Other hands took the opportunity to grope my firm jockbutt. Dad held my face by the chin, prising my jaw open with thumb and forefinger, pinching my lips forward and apart like an exaggerated kiss. With his other hand, he reached into the flooded trough of the urinal and scooped up a handful of cold piss. I trembled as I realised what he intended, but his grip on me was too strong to pull away. He smeared the foul bodily fluids over my face and even managed to push some into my mouth with his fingers. It tasted tart, acrid on my tongue. For some reason my naked dick began to bone up again. Dad's hand came back with a second scoop - I could see a string of somebody's cum floating in this one - and this time he managed to pour more of the fluid in through my lips... ... I had little choice but to swallow. The glob of cum danced over my tongue and down my throat... Dad spat in my face. Once, twice, three times. Then he licked his spit off, laving my face lovingly with his tongue. Next he spat in my mouth. He pushed his tongue in after it and frenched me deep, sharing in the taste of the piss he'd been feeding me. 'Mmmmmmmm...' he moaned into my mouth. My dick started dripping. I felt the head knock into the head of Dad's own dick and that thick metal piercing of his pushed into my slit a little. A third handful of piss. My tongue flickered slightly in anticipation to greet it and I gulped it down without complaint... Dad kissed me again, thrusting his tongue so far back I thought I was gonna swallow it whole... ... And then he shoved me back down, pushing my face up against the urinal again. With my arm still wrenched up behind my back, I got licking this time, swabbing up the cum loads of both myself and the trucker. I had to swoop down further to catch it now as it had dripped down closer to the reservoir of piss in the trough... ...fuck, man, that spooge tasted awesome as I worked it round in my mouth before swallowing it down and then opening wide to get my tongue busy again... When it was all gone I just started licking all over the slick surface of the backplate, delirious now at the nastiness, as I cleaned up weeks' worth of dried piss and greasy cum... Dad left my manhandling to his helpers as he turned his attention to my outthrust ass. With a single wrench he ripped my brand new suit pants apart at the seam, totally ruining them and exposing my commando hole for everyone to see. He got down on his knees and thrust his face straight up my sweaty crack. I moaned and licked the urinal harder as I felt his tongue lap urgently at my hole... 'Mmmm... son, your ass tastes of shit!' And with that he dove right back down on it, punching his tongue up thru my hole and sucking my ass greedily. 'Mmmmmm.... oink, oink, snuuuuurfle... thluuurp... thluuurp...' Oh fuck, my Dad was so NASTY! I ground my ass into his face as he ate me out, truckers fisting their dicks on every side... 'Fuckin hot scene, man...' 'Yeah... HOT!' I was delirious with piggery by now. As I licked clean spots on the steel I sought out dirtier ones. Anonymous trucker dicks slapped my face and I sucked them in, one after another... I pushed down deep inside my gut to open my ass up even further and give Dad's tongue greater access, when I surprised us both by expelling a long, stiff turd from my chute. Dad backed off fast and caught my log in his hands with a groan of lust. I couldn't see what he was doing, but the running commentary from the crowd kept me up to speed... 'Yeah, hot jock turd, bro...' 'Lookit the dad, cradling it in his hands like that...' 'Oh fuuuuck... now he's lickin' it up and down with that long wet tongue of his... gettin' his tongue all brown an' nasty...' 'Bet that turd's mighty tasty, way he's lickin' it...' 'Yeah, give us a taste, daddy...' 'Yeah, straight offa yur tongue, daddyo... yeah, french me ya nasty fuckstud...!' 'Urrrgh.... nommmm... thluuurp... nommmm...' The sounds of rough men kissing went right around the room for I don't know HOW long... sounds of my Dad moaning into some hot guy's mouth as he delivered the taste of my shit on his tongue... ...fingering my hole all the while, Dad's fingers slick with the lube of my shit... ...but it can't have been that long,as my turd was still steamy hot when Dad ran it up and down the sensitive underside of my dick, smearing me with my own shit... I threw my head back and groaned loud and long... Someone shoved my face down to the trough and I began drinking up piss from it, like a dog from a water bowl. My ass being that more open following the dump, Dad was able to get three fingers up me now as he worked my clutching chute. DAMN but those long, bony fingers felt goooood... 'Here, let me lube yur fingers up some, brother,' I heard one trucker say to Dad, and next thing I felt scalding hot jets of trucker cum splatter my hole and ass cheeks. Dad scooped it up and it worked like a charm. His fingers speeded up as he forced the trucker's load into my hole... Half a dozen more truckers' loads were fed into my chute before Dad decided I was ready for his dick. I moaned out as he yanked my ruined pants off and spanked my ass. It felt fucking awesome. Then he thrust his dick in, ring piece and all. Thank GOD for all that truckerload. After the first coupla minutes I was practically singing a song, it felt so damned good. Dad's pole felt huge, and fucking me doggy like that, his downward curving scimitar hit my joyspot every time. I never felt so full in my life. Dad pulled me upright and back into him, seizing me with his arms as he impaled me with his dick. He licked up and down my face and when I turned my head we kissed, wet and sloppy. The taste of my shit was still strong on his tongue. At last he came with a roar, coating my insides with his daddyload and I splattered the urinal with my own climax. Damn. And I'd just got that puppy clean! By the time I was finished cleaning that up, four truckers or more had taken my ass. Dad ended up on his knees next to me as he too got gang fucked - the two of us frenching and drinking up piss from the trough, swapping it back and forth from mouth to mouth... What a sight we musta made, kneeling side by side at that nasty urinal in our formal wear, bent over, our naked asses outthrust and on offer to any hot working man that wants to take it,,, We were both wrecked by the end of the evening. Thank God we had the house to ourselves when we got back. Neither of us had any pants and we both reeked of piss and shit. When I asked Dad how we were going to explain to Mom about the missing suit, Dad smiled. 'I had two made. Identical.' What can I tell ya? He had the whole thing worked out from the very beginning. What a piece o' work! So anyhoo, it's Sunday today and me an' Dad have got until tomorrow before the others get back. We can spend the day chilling and fooling around without any pesky womenfolk to stall our games. Unghh... Dad's just thrust his dick up my ass! He's fucking me... oooof! - as I record this diary entry. And no, Mr Holloway, I ain't gonna cut out or delete a single thing from it. I want you to hear it all. Because by the time you're playing it back, me and Dad'll have you bent over your desk, reaming out your ass, you horny fucker...! Ooooh, yeah, Dad....do it.... fuck me nasty.... (CLICK) (RECORDING ENDS)