Date: Thu, 2 Mar 2006 17:34:53 -0800 (PST)
From: Dennis Banneker <storiesnew@yahoo.com>
Subject: Teaching My Son a Hard Lesson - Chapter 1
_________________________________________
Teaching My Son a Hard Lesson - Chapter 1
by Dennis Banneker
StoriesNew@yahoo.com
March 2, 2006
(c) Copyright 2006 by Dennis Banneker. All rights reserved.
_________________________________________
WARNING: To qualify to read this story, which depicts and
describes incestuous and other homosexual acts between males,
you must be of legal age of adulthood and in compliance with
all applicable laws and regulations that apply to you while
reading and at all other times henceforth. All of this warning
applies to you and any other person who sees or hears this
story or otherwise becomes aware of it as a result of your
action or actions, intentional or not. If you do not qualify,
or are not sure if you qualify, do not read further. Other
disclaimers apply. You have been warned.
No actual people are depicted in this fictional story. Any
resemblance between the characters portrayed in this story and
actual persons living or dead, in name, behavior, or otherwise,
is coincidental and unintentional.
______________________________________________________________
A list of all my stories is included at the end of the chapter.
*** NIFTY AUTHOR LOOKUP: Find me under "Storiesnew." Maybe
someday it will be under Dennis Banneker--I don't know. ***
______________________________________________________________
Teaching My Son a Hard Lesson
by Dennis Banneker
StoriesNew@yahoo.com
Cory Denwell, son, 16
Roger Denwell, dad, 35
Dave Cirbeck, 41, Roger's friend
Todd Reathe, 13
________________________________
I've had to teach my son Cory many lessons, and I don't spare
the rod with him when that's needed. Most of this, I've done
without a mate, as my wife left when Cory was quite young. She
didn't love him as I did. It's just as well that she left--I
was starting to discover my attraction to men at that time, but
had yet to act on it. The budding attraction was very
secondary to my love and concern for Cory. I knew at that
time, even without help, I would give him the love and support
he needed.
Now, Cory is 16 years old, and I've confined my sexual
wanderings to fantasies I have as I masturbate. It's just as
well, I feel, because I would hate to be a wrong influence on
Cory, or have him wonder about my sexuality if he should see
other men hanging around the house--or coming and going, more
likely. I always imagined my male partners as one-night
stands, or very brief affairs.
Cory was a late bloomer, and for a long time very short and
wiry. He looked like a twelve-year-old until he was fifteen.
Now that he's 16, he looks more his age--fairly tall, so I
thought of him as 'big,' but Cory is still quite thin, and
often his expression is fear and vulnerability personified.
His emotions also are those of a younger boy--Cory is easily
intimidated.
I know I've hidden my gay side well. I kept a small diary of
my thoughts and fantasies locked in my safe. I have never said
or done anything that would indicate a sexual preference for
males, nor did I have any quirks or mannerisms that might
divulge my inner yearnings to others. I'd collected a few
toys, including a chastity belt, that I also kept locked in my
safe. I used them only when Cory wasn't home.
So I was shocked with a discovery I made one day, when barging
in on Cory. I wasn't trying to deliberately invade his
privacy. A letter had come for him from his brother who was in
the Marines overseas. I knew how excited he'd be to get that
letter. I was excited myself, and wasn't thinking as I swung
his bedroom door open. A large picture on his computer screen
caught my eye immediately.
"Dad!" he said, jumping up to conceal the screen with his body,
fear dominating his face.
"Sit down, Cory."
Unnerved and shocked, I slid the letter into my back pocket and
faced Cory. I had no idea how to approach this, but I knew I
had to be calm and reasonable. I was not about to ruin the
good relationship I had with my son. My mind was spinning with
thoughts, but except for wanting to wrap my arms around my
Cory, I don't remember them.
"Dad--I can explain," he said anxiously.
I had never seen him in such a panic.
"Before you do, hear me out. I love you very much, Cory. And
I'll continue to love you whether you like boys or girls. Yes,
I saw the picture. It's okay. Relax."
"You're kidding, right?" he said, as if his emotions went on
hold suddenly. His fearful face remained.
"Stand up," I said to a very red-faced 16-year-old boy.
I felt as if I were plastered to the ceiling, looking down at
me and Cory, an other-worldly sense of reality.
Society had advanced beyond what I conceived as modern. The
conversation we were about to have could not have taken place
15 years ago. Now, boys were more open about their bodies,
less ashamed, maybe. And they talked very openly about sex,
even to their parents, especially fathers. There was some male
public nudity, but that hadn't caught on, that I could see.
Somehow, I came down from the ceiling and faced my son.
"Dad, I--" He stood calmly, without voicing any complaint
about my seeing his bulging shorts. Perhaps his frightened
state caused him to forget about his erection for the moment.
His back was to the monitor.
"It's all right, Cory." I calmly walked to him and hugged him.
He was hot with stress. I felt his slender but solid build as
we hugged, and the moisture coming from him through his shirt.
With my head on his shoulder, I got a clear look at the naked
young man depicted on the screen.
"Oh, God--dad I'm sorry," he said. My hands felt the tight
muscles of his back. He sighed in relief after he spoke, but
pulled away. There was another part of him that he did not
want me to feel. This, despite the fact that I had seen it,
even touched it playfully, clothed and unclothed, many times.
"Be what you are, but don't be sorry about it."
"But--" he said, adjusting himself with his back to me.
"There's no shame in an erection. I get them, too. Sit down."
"I'm not ashamed of it, dad."
He sat, somewhat sullen looking, but more relaxed than before.
A hint of sadness began to develop as he calmed.
"Now, do you want to explain?"
"I'm gay," he said, not quite shouting.
As simple as that, I thought, irrespective of my making it easy
for him. I'd half expected an admission, but he'd shocked me
with its speed. Impressive for 16. Manly of him, I thought--
in spite of the fact that I kept thinking of him as a younger
boy.
This brought up a dilemma for me. Could I be as much of a man
in this regard? Was it right for him to know my feelings
toward other males? Would it help or hurt him? I decided to
go slowly.
"You're not the only one."
"I know dad," he said, looking up and taking his face out of
his hands. "There's a lot of gay guys out there."
"I'm sure there are, Cory. Do you still feel bad about it?" I
got behind him and rubbed his shoulders.
"That feels good."
"You have a great body."
"I know. You tell me all the time," he said with a blush.
"And I like touching this," I said, squeezing his hardness
momentarily. "It's big, and manly. I'm proud of it for you."
"Dad! Not now. I know you're proud of it. I prayed all
through school you wouldn't make me do a show-and-tell about my
dick."
"Well, I'm ashamed--not of you. By the time I got my little
speech worked out, you'd graduated from eighth grade. How do
you feel about being gay?"
"I don't know. I don't know what to think." His voice had a
keen edge of grief.
He seemed so vulnerable and helpless. My heart ached for his
happiness--perhaps contentment was more like it. I wanted him
to feel he still had some carefree childhood ahead of him. I
became aware, for the first time, that my heart yearned for
something else, too. As I continued to rub his shoulders, I
was becoming sexually aroused.
It wasn't *all* sensual. My son was a good young man. His
heart reached out to others so easily. He was firm, healthy,
athletic, beautiful--and there wasn't a mean or selfish bone in
his body.
"I guess I feel guilty," he said sharply, pulling me out of my
contemplation.
"It's all right," I said, putting my arms around his chest as
he leaned back in the swivel chair I'd given him for his 16th
birthday. The firm feel of his rib cage added to the
sensuality I felt. "What do you feel guilty about?"
"I don't know," he said. "I guess . . . sneaking around here,
looking at pictures, making secret phone calls to gay friends."
He was clearly on the verge of a state of shock, and my mind
raced to find some relief for him.
"You think that was wrong?" I asked, knowing the answer. I
hoped my worry and agitation hadn't shown in my voice.
"Yes," he said explosively.
"What else do you feel guilty about?"
"Lying to you. Making you think I was dating girls." It all
came out in one lump of agitated, beautiful, male honesty.
"Okay. Fair enough. Anything else?"
"Shit--not that I can think of."
I saw the blush rise to his ears.
"Don't worry about cursing now. It's understandable--you're
upset. But aside from all that, sneaking and lying are two
punishable offenses. You know I can't overlook those."
"I know, I know, dad."
"I'll have to use the strap instead of the paddle. And it has
nothing to do with whom you choose to sleep with." Cory was
well-accustomed to physical punishment at my hand.
He sighed. I had a feeling the punishment was not the cause of
his troubled breath.
"You really are okay with this!" His tone was strong with
surprise, as if this were too much to believe, yet the tension
clung to him.
"Yes, I'm okay with it. And I think *you* have a lot to get
off your chest, Cory. Am I right?"
"Yeah," he said, the choking sound announcing his tears.
"How would you feel about picking out a counselor for yourself
and talking with him on a regular basis?"
"A shrink? Shitty."
"What about me? Would you talk with me?"
"It's complicated, dad. I don't think you'd understand. I
don't think anyone who's not gay could understand."
"Who said I'm not gay?"
"Cut it out, dad."
"Turn around," I said, still standing, taking my hands which
had wrapped around his shoulders to his chest.
My son spun his chair quickly, and looked me in the eye.
"Okay. Now what?" he said gently. The silence made his eyes
wander. "Oh, fuck."
"I like that picture, too," I said, nodding toward the screen.
That was part of the truth. He'd seen the thing that betrayed
me.
"You're serious, I can tell," he said very softly. My son's
eyes had widened for a moment--not in fear, I thought--from
shock, surprise perhaps. I hoped it wasn't disappointment. I
was ready for anything but that. He turned again, facing the
monitor.
"Yes. I'm serious about anything that concerns you." My hands
went to his shoulders. "You've had sex?"
Another sigh. Again, the blush seeped into his ears.
"Not really--well, I had a blow job." I was surprised he
opened up so much, so easily, it seemed.
"Did you return the favor?" I said, after a long pause.
"Well, I . . . wanted to, but his parents came home, so I
left."
I waited, expecting more. My hands--the way I rubbed him--
helped communicate my expectation.
"It was Brock Triston. A few days ago." He began to choke up
again.
"If it was good--I don't mean good sex--a good encounter, then
you shouldn't feel bad about it."
"It was good," he said with another sigh, blushing badly.
"It's just . . . I can't believe . . . you're accepting it. I
can't believe I'm saying all this. I can't believe you're
gay."
"It came late for me. I'm glad I was straight enough to make
love to your mother, and have you."
"I know how much you love me, dad. I love you, too." The
sentiment was there, but his voice wasn't right.
"You're scared."
"Yeah."
"More now, or less, since we talked?"
"Less and more--I don't know. It's too much, too fast, I
guess."
"Being a teenager is scary enough. You don't need extra fears
added to that. I'll give you a mild tranquilizer so you can
sleep tonight. Is that all right?"
"Sure, thanks, dad."
"I'll call the school and leave a message that you won't be in
tomorrow."
"Okay," he said, somewhat perplexed, but he didn't question it.
He stood facing me and stretched, which raised his tee shirt,
revealing some smooth skin with a faint strip of hair running
vertically. His erection had subsided. Mine had not.
"So, are you and Brock tight now?"
"Nah. I don't think he likes me that much. It was . . . I
don't know--a heat of the moment thing," he said with a deep
sigh as he came out of his stretch and lowered his arms.
It was then I noticed Cory had no shoes or socks on. That
wasn't unusual, but it was another bit of exposed flesh. In my
excited condition, it added to my arousal.
"Well, don't brush him off, son. He may like you more than you
think, and might be waiting for you to finish what you
started."
"Yeah, maybe--but I'm not that interested in him. I won't
brush him off." Cory's eyes wandered briefly over me.
"I see." I wasn't sure where Cory was coming from, and I
wasn't about to press the issue. Brock was a very good-looking
boy, however. Then my son's expression changed to one I'd not
seen before.
"Do you think I'm sexy, dad?" he said with a cute smile.
For a moment, I pondered the implications of a dad saying he
thought his son was sexy.
"Maybe. I can't see much of you." Nice legs in those shorts,
but--take off your shirt." I gulped. I expected hesitation,
but he removed his shirt immediately.
What I saw nearly took my breath away. I had seen him
shirtless before, but now that my attention was keenly focused,
Cory had a whole new look in my estimation.
"Well?" he said with a charming expectancy.
"So far, yes--very nice." I did my best to hide my quickened
breathing.
"So far?"
"Yes, Cory--your upper body is beautiful." He had broad, well-
muscled shoulders, an excellent full chest, and a sensuous,
tight abdomen. The muscles were just thick enough to give him
an enticing, youthful look.
"Oh," he said, grinning, and glanced at the bulge in my pants.
Perhaps he knew where this was heading. My fingers dug into
the palms of my hands. My son was developing an erection.
Surely, he wasn't excited by me.
"Just right," I said, scanning his chest and abdomen for the
tenth time.
"Do I turn you on, dad?" Another charming grin accompanied
this inquiry. I did my best to suppress a gulp. I knew what I
wanted to say, and needed a moment to gain the courage to say
it.
"So far, I'd say that you'd turn a lot of people on. I'd like
to see the rest of you." He gave a little pause.
"Oh--you want me . . . naked?" he said hesitantly, as if
needing to gain courage, himself.
"Yes," I said simply, gulping while his eyes were busy looking
down at himself. He had quite a bulge to look at.
"Well--I'm hard," he said, blushing as he undid the button of
his shorts.
"That's all right." I'd said it soothingly, though my insides
were turbulent.
He bent so fluidly, pushing his shorts and underwear to the
floor in one movement. Cory stood proudly, but not without
embarrassment.
"Yes," I said, going to him, "you turn me on. And you're quite
beautiful to look at. And this is magnificent." I touched my
fingertips gently to his penis, and slid from base to tip,
causing my boy's hardness to jump.
"Ah, dad--easy. I gotta cum so bad." The poor boy blushed
crimson. I was sure, with a little prompting, he would have
voiced some embarrassment at my touching him there--if for no
other reason than to protect his image.
"Needing to come. You'll need to be a man about that. I'll
have to teach you."
"Yes, sir," he said, going into his training mode.
Especially because Cory had been small for so long, I had spent
a great deal of time on his manly training--from putting his
toys away, to learning to wait for good things such as trips
and gifts. So he knew exactly what I had meant by 'be a man
about that' and 'teach you.'
Cory had exercise equipment in his room, and the high bar would
be perfect for what I had in mind.
"Grab the bar," I said, looking at it so he would know what I
meant. "And don't let go."
He reached for the bar and grasped it, stretching his body into
a sensuous mass of tight muscles.
"You have to learn to make your penis hard and soft--at will.
We'll start with hard. Stay like that. I'll be right back."
"Okay," he said, his expression doubtful.
I returned with a thin piece of wood in my hand--a sort of
mini-paddle--something I'd not used on him, but a good
substitute for a paddle. It would have more sting than he was
accustomed to. I hid the other object in my pocket.
"This is weird, dad."
"I'm sure it seems that way at the moment," I said, giving him
a familiar stare.
"Okay, I'll be patient."
I held up the paddle.
This is a training paddle, not a punishment one. I'll use it
not to punish you--but to distract you from your erection. I
want you to develop your concentration so you can stay hard,
even when you feel pain. That's half the training."
"Yes, sir," he said, managing a grin, but utterly nervous. He
began to sweat from the stress of the bar. His toes barely
touched the floor. His leg and back muscles bulged nicely. As
I approached his back end, the flesh quivered.
"Concentrate on your erection," I said, causing him to stare at
his six or seven inches of hardness. He didn't look like a
younger boy in *that* regard.
SMACK! A solid, stinging whack to his tight rear-end.
"Ahh!"
The polished wood was perfect for this. It was, I suppose, a
high-level spanking. I kept my eye on his penis. By the fifth
whack, his adolescent erection began to lose its high angle. I
stopped swinging the little paddle, which, by Cory's screams,
was quite up to the task of inducing distracting pain.
"Concentrate. Make it hard."
"It feels like punishment."
"Discipline your mind! Make it know the training, not the
pain."
I could see Cory making every effort, and was confident he was
trying equally hard mentally. But his organ continued to
soften.
"It's not working yet," he said, grunting from the strain of
holding part of his weight up with his arms.
"I'll have to help you, I suppose." I ran my fingers over his
penis as before.
"Ah, yeah. That's good." I was surprised that he encouraged
me. His erection returned very quickly.
"Don't let go of that bar, boy."
I gave him a dozen or so hard whacks, and Cory shouted at each
one. But he remained erect, or nearly so. I was impressed.
I went around to admire my son's penis. His rapid breathing
was a sexual event in itself. It was all I could do to stop
myself from touching his organ more firmly, but there was
technically no reason to do that now.
"If we practice at this, you'll be able to stay hard and get
pre-cum while I whack you. And you'll be able to stay soft,
even when there is much to be aroused about--that's the second
half of the training." I took my position behind him and
picked up the small paddle again.
"I don't know how much more my butt can take on that same
spot," he said, panting from the whacking he'd just taken.
"All right." I gave him a swat on the sensitive part of the
backs of his legs.
Cory could not take much of that, judging by his screams. He
became half-hard.
"I suppose we'll have to stop."
"Yes. Thank you!"
"Wait--are you sure? You know there will be consequences for
stopping a training session prematurely."
"Yes. I'm sure, dad."
He let go, looking quite relieved as he rubbed the soreness out
of his arms and buttocks.
"Enough of that. Make yourself hard."
"Just . . . mentally?"
"Yes."
It was a long struggle for my good-looking boy--five minutes,
perhaps. But he managed to get a decent erection.
"Not bad, Cory."
"Thanks. But, um . . . I really have to jerk off now."
I did my magic with my fingers, enjoying the high throbs of
Cory's erection at my touch. I had plans for him and his
enticing stiff penis. The object in my pocket would play a
key role.
"Dad, that's . . . embarrassing. Besides, it could be
dangerous."
"Yes," I said with a chuckle, "I know all about that."
"What are you doing?"
"Training you," I said, putting the chastity belt on him and
locking it in place.
"I can't . . . come with that on me."
"Yes, son. Quite right. Concentrate. Make it soft--it'll
be more comfortable inside the chastity belt that way."
"Dad, no. Please! I really need--"
"I'll be back with your tranquilizer."
"God damn! Fuck! Fuck!" I could hear, as I walked to the
kitchen.
I easily forgave the cursing. I found it arousing. I imagined
him struggling to get the thing off, which of course was
impossible. Part of me felt guilty that I might be too cruel
preventing his release; part of me knew it truly was good
training. Another part of me became sexually excited that he
would experience this subtle form of suffering.
"I'll start with your punishment tomorrow," I said after he'd
swallowed the pill. "And you won't have to stay erect during
that."
"Dad, no, please," Cory said, staring at the bulged-out
chastity device. "I won't sleep, no matter what!"
"Oh, you will. At least it's a big chastity device--more than
big enough for you to stay hard without cramping your nice,
pretty dick."
The blush of sexual frustration crept into Cory's skin. The
color seemed to start in his neck and spread upwards and
downwards from there.
"I can't take this," he said, quite unnerved now. "I'll blow
you, I'll do anything." His face snapped to an expression of
utter shock. "Fuck--what am I saying?"
"I'm not as cute as Brock."
"You're sexier."
That gave me the clue I needed. Cory liked older guys.
"What about sucking a younger boy--say, thirteen or so?"
"Ewww, no. That'd be embarrassing--a big guy like me trying to
suck off a boy!"
"You're a boy."
"Yeah--but . . . not all little, like that. Come on, I'll blow
ya."
"I'm not ready for that, Cory. But I'll think of something."
"Something what?"
"Something I want--and if you do it, I'll let you come."
"Okay! Yeah! Anything."
"We'll see, boy. When did you last come?"
"Come? Um, last night."
"Oh. Nothing today?"
"I was getting ready to, when you . . . found me in my room.
I'm WAY overdue, dad!"
"I see. You were getting sexed up first, looking at the
picture of that boy."
"He's not a boy, dad. He's a model. He's like twenty-three."
"Do you know him?"
"No."
"Good. Get to bed, for now. If I hear you rattling around,
I'll tie you in."
"Yes, sir," he said, crawling into his bed.
This gave me time to get to my office at the other end of the
house--where I could think, and write in my diary. The ring of
the phone startled me.
It was my friend, Dave Cirbeck, who always had a runaway young
teen or two around the house, and had fun with them. I was
sure this would be another one of his news flashes--some
outrageous thing he's done sexually with one boy or other.
"Roger, how are you?"
We exchanged pleasantries.
"So, David--to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"
"I'm glad you asked, Roger." This was our standard opening.
"I have two boys today. And I need to be alone with one of
them. I'm in the mood for an intimate one-on-one. I think the
older boy would be very pleasing to you.
"David, this is a joke, yes?" Knowing David's tastes, he was
probably talking about a 13-year-old.
"No, of course not."
"I'm not looking for anyone, and I certainly wouldn't pick a
young teen for sex. I'm not even looking for sex."
"Everyone's looking for sex in one way or other, Roger. You
can't stay a virgin forever, and this kid's fun."
"I don't want to ignore your need, Dave. Do you have anyone
else you can take him?"
"Yes. My sister. But she won't entertain the boy like you
would. Don't sweat it. She'll take him for a day. I'll
figure out something for tomorrow."
"All right. Sorry I can't take him now. Maybe some other
time," I said. We chatted a bit after that, and hung up.
I chuckled to myself.
My thoughts returned to Cory. I wanted to see my son
ejaculate, but that milestone event would have to wait until
tomorrow, when he'd be more desperate to cooperate in order to
get his relief.
I walked down the hall toward my son's room, concerned with
wording my message--that his penis would need to wait until the
morning, or later. I needn't have worried. Cory was asleep.
I was awakened by a knocking on my bedroom door.
"Come on, dad. It's almost eight o'clock."
"Get breakfast started. I'll be out after I shower." We
always had the same breakfast--bacon and eggs. "Full military
formalities today."
I would make him sweat a bit on this day off from school that I
created. And I would make him work for the relief I knew he
craved desperately. Why else would he be so energetically
awake before eight in the morning, begging me to wake up?
"Yes, sir!"
Footsteps. Cory was wasting no time obeying. That was a good
sign. I took extra-long in the shower, just to see how he
would handle it. My military formalities were well-known to
Cory. I decided to wear loose shorts, commando style.
Seeing him standing at attention at the table gave my penis a
twinge. The chastity belt stood at attention in its own way.
"Not bad, boy."
"Yes, sir."
"At ease. How was it during the night?" I said, tapping the
tube that contained his prized possession.
"I slept like a rock. The night wasn't bad, but it's been hell
since I woke up around six."
"Hell?"
"Dad, it's been over twenty-four hours," he said insistently,
as if this were a great personal tragedy, and he had to pound
the words into me to gain my understanding. "My . . . my dick
woke me up, and--"
"Yes, I understand," I said, giving him a knowing smile. "How
often do you masturbate?"
"Two or three times a day, usually."
I had a feeling it was more than that. It kept occurring to
me how many barriers had come down in less than 24 hours--
barriers that usually remain up between father and son. It
had come as a mild shock that Cory would talk about his penis
and tell me how often he masturbated.
"What's the status?" I said, tapping the plastic tube.
"Hell," he said, staring at the thing as a drop of pre-cum hit
the floor. "It won't go down. My balls hurt. It's bad."
"Take heart, boy--it will get worse."
"Yeah, I figured." Silence accompanied his serious look.
Breakfast was good, despite having sat in the oven, keeping
warm for many minutes. I thanked my son for the meal,
something we always did at our house. He would have done the
same had I been the cook.
"You seem to have that under control," I said, knowing this
was not the case, glancing at the chastity tube.
"Anything but!"
"More training will take care of that problem. Let's have a
look at it." I took the key from my pocket, and remembered
about the letter from his brother. I would give it to him
later. I unlocked the tube portion and slid it off carefully.
"Ahh--I think it likes fresh air." His penis began to erect.
"My balls hurt BAD, sir."
"A cool bath will help that problem," I said, staring at his
organ and grasping it.
"Suck it, dad," he said, a tightness in his throat.
"Not a bad idea," I said, yielding to my lust. But you'll get
extra whacks for being so brazen." I went to my knees, taking
his erection into my mouth slowly.
"Oh, God--yes!"
In 30 seconds I felt small throbs in his organ, and slid my
mouth off, preventing his ejaculation.
"Fuck, fuck! I thought you were going to let me come."
"Never assume, boy," I said, reattaching the chastity tube.
"Go take a cool bath for those balls. Hut!" I said, bringing
him to attention.
"Yes, sir."
Within seconds, I heard the tub water running. I wondered how
this would work out with the chastity belt getting wet in the
bath, then I recalled the thing was mostly nylon mesh, which
repelled water and required little drying. The tube that held
his penis could be easily wiped dry..
Two beautiful white globes met my eyes as I passed the open
door of the bathroom. Cory was bent over, adjusting the water
temperature. It was the first time I'd truly admired my son's
bottom.
Report to the basement when you get dried off.
"Yes, sir. May I speak freely?"
"Yes," I said without hesitation.
"Dad--I've never been so . . . horny in my life. It hurts, and
it's starting to really get to me," he said, trembling.
"Yes, I see."
"Dad--I REALLY need to come!"
I simply nodded and left him alone in the bathroom.
"Come on, dad, I'm DYING!" I heard as I started down the
hallway. "Please, sir!"
"You won't die."
I immediately went to the phone to call Dave. His
situation was perfect for me now, and I chided myself for
being so dense when he'd told me about his extra boy.
"Dave, so glad you're home."
"Roger, good to hear from you. What are you up to?"
"Thanks. To get to the point, I was wondering if you still
had your spare runaway boy?"
"Sure I do. You mean you're finally going to have sex with
someone?"
"Well, the boy will have sex, that's for sure. What I think of
it after it happens is a point in the future." I hesitated to
reveal my plans, especially Cory's role in this.
"I assure you, you'll love it. Decided to go young, eh?"
"It's not my ideal, but I decided to start slow." I was not
used to deception and became uncomfortable.
"Slow? You'll have a hard time keeping up with a thirteen-
year-old."
What luck! The boy was 13.
"I thought the younger ones would be less threatening, as a
rule."
"You're right, there, Roger."
"I don't suppose you're in a position to deliver him?" I had
done some work for the organization, so I didn't feel too bad
about asking this.
"I'm about to go shopping with the boys. Dropping him off
would be no problem. His name's Todd Reathe. When do you want
him?"
"Dave, thank you. Any time after 10 this morning."
"Say, 10:30?"
"That's perfect." That would leave plenty of time for Cory to
get a good bath, and give me at least an hour with him in the
basement before Dave would come by with Todd.
"What mode do you want him in?"
"Mode? What do you mean?"
"This kid's a good role-player. He can do street talk, ultra
polite, master slave lingo--anything you want."
"My God. He's had that much experience at his tender age?"
"Not quantity--he's still tight back there. His brother Carl
trained him. Todd says Carl was into everything."
"Yes, sir--no, sir mode will be just fine."
"All right, Roger, I'll tell him. Good luck. I'll walk him to
the door, but I won't come in."
"Thanks again, Dave."
This was too good to be true, I thought.
In the basement, I made my preparations. I gathered ropes,
dusted off a few beams, which were preferable to the high bar
in Cory's room--mostly because they were higher and stronger,
and he would need to support his whole weight with his hands
and arms. It was going to be nice to see him swinging freely,
his sculpted feet well off the floor, his nakedness on display.
Upstairs, I gathered my cane, strap, paddle, stinging little
paddle, and a few other surprises for the boy. Downstairs
again, I arranged everything, and set up a fan to keep him cool
and relatively dry.
I made a crude arm and wrist restraint, to avoid depending on
the grip of his hands to keep him suspended for long periods.
I found scraps of wood of various sizes, to use as I saw fit.
"What should I wear, sir?" a sweet adolescent voice said from
the top of the stairs.
"What are you wearing now?"
"Nothing, sir."
"That's perfect, boy. Come down."
"Yes, sir."
"Hard again," I said, seeing the chastity belt pointing
upwards. I took the thing off him. "Nice. You have a very
pretty dick, Cory." I never thought I'd say that to my son--
who blushed profusely.
"Um, thanks, sir."
"Nicely rigid, I'd say. Throbbing, too," I said to a blushing
naked sixteen-year-old who happened to be my son.
"What's all this, sir?" Cory said, looking at my handiwork in
the basement and the items I had lined up on a table.
"You'll find out. Stand here." I pointed to the floor, under
one of the beams I dusted. "At ease, for now, boy. Jump and
grab the beam." I had padded the beam with strips of an old
blanket to give it a more comfortable grip.
Cory made the mistake of doing pull-ups, showing off for me,
but this tired his arms. Of course, I would use the arm and
wrist restraint eventually, relieving his hands of the task of
bearing his body weight.
"At attention!"
"Yes, sir," he said, doing his best to be at attention while
hanging from a beam.
"Cory--do you remember your two punishable offenses we
discussed yesterday?"
"Yes, sir."
"And what are they?"
"Lying to you about dating girls, and sneaking around making
secret phone calls." His organ began to deflate.
"This will be the first of several punishment sessions for
those offenses."
"Yes, sir," he said as I picked up an implement I knew he
hadn't seen before.
This was the first time I would punish him while he hung from
a beam.
"We'll start with this."
"What's that, sir?"
"It's called a tawse. As you can see it's quite thick. The
two tails at the end give it a special stinging impact."
More like a *whip,* I thought, but I wasn't telling him that.
"Yes, sir," he said, gulping.
"It will hurt. A lot. You may curse, but don't go overboard
with that, or you'll get the cane for your efforts.
Understand?"
"Yes!"
I saw the fear in Cory's eyes as he spoke. He hated the cane
more than any other implement.
"Good."
>From my internet reading, I knew all about getting the boy
excited before inflicting pain. Sexual arousal would help him
endure the pain mentally. Physically, too, I presumed. His
sexual excitement would make him very attentive. And the sight
of his young erection would please me.
I aimed the tawse to make sure it would hit his lower left
buttock in just the right way. "Inhale!"
WWHAAPPP!
"Daaaaahhrrrrrghhhh!" he shouted, his eyes going wide.
Now, the same on the right buttock.
WWHAAPPP!
"Ahhhhhhwwwrr, OW! Fuck!"
The third stroke brought a scream from him. It hit on the same
spot as the first.
"Pretty bad, eh?"
"Dad, that thing's wicked!"
"As bad as the cane?"
"No," he said, blushing with fear, losing his grip on the beam
and landing on his feet. "Dad, I'm sorry." The panic in his
voice was charming.
"I'll let it go, this time." Losing his grip during
punishment--usually on the bed-rail or the bar--called for a
special penalty which I decided wasn't necessary now.
Cory seemed too shaken to respond, and remained silent as I put
my home made restraints on him.
I had him step up on a small stool, attached his restraints to
the beam, and removed the stool. This had him suspended
nicely, his feet about 5 inches from the floor. Now his hands
could not be used to release himself from his bonds. He
gulped, his expression a mix of fear and bravery.
"Ah!" he exclaimed as I slid a finger down his penis.
"What's this? No excitement? Not even a half-erection?"
My son was overdue for ejaculation. I knew his need for
release, despite the temporary condition of his organ.
I used several fingers this time, fascinated as his erection
formed fully. Using especially delicate contact, I used all
ten fingers to stimulate him, delighting in the strong upward
throbs of male flesh I was able to elicit.
"Dad--I gotta come, really bad."
"Don't worry, son. I'll see to it that condition worsens."
"Uhhh, God!"
His eyes widened as I picked up a large feather I was fond of
using on my own organ. I slid it nicely over the top and
underside of his substantial erection.
Grunts and moans of frustration come out of his cute, 16-year-
old mouth. I was very pleased. And the spasms of his penis--
the erection jumping upwards--gave me throbs, down below.
"How nice," I said, stroking the feather over his penis
rapidly.
"Uhhh! Fuck! Let me come, dad. I'll do anything you want."
"That's good to hear, Cory. I'll demand more than one thing of
you before you earn your orgasm."
The doorbell rang. I knew it would be Dave, dropping off Todd.
I raced up the steps.
I was not prepared for the striking beauty of the boy. Todd
looked to be the essence of a sensual 13-year-old. With blond
hair, a baby face, deep blue eyes, and a smooth, golden-like
complexion, the kid was not just attractive, he was beyond
cute--and sex personified. There wasn't much fat on him, yet
he wasn't thin. Todd had that just-right build of well formed,
but slender young muscles. Until that moment, I had never
considered sex with one so young.
Cory had indicated he would find it distasteful and
embarrassing to suck off or pleasure a 13-year-old. As a way
of tormenting my son by lengthening the time I was denying him
orgasm, demanding that he give oral pleasure to Todd would be
just the thing--providing torment, sexual frustration, and
embarrassment all at once. But with Todd's exceptional looks,
I began to fear Cory might enjoy pleasing Todd, which would
cancel out the torment and embarrassment.
On the other had, it would be fun to watch the two, and I could
pleasure Cory if I wanted to, while he was at work giving his
first blow job--intensifying his already desperate sexual need.
"Hello, Todd," I said, smiling, and attempting not to tremble
at the alluring sight of the boy.
"I knew you'd like him," Dave said, and he was off.
"You're good looking," Todd said in a provocative, youthful
voice.
"Well, thank you. And if I'm good-looking, then you're a
hundred times that."
"Wow, thanks mister." Todd's blush told me this was not a
crude street boy.
"Would you do me a favor and call me Roger?"
"Um, sure, Roger--but um, David said I was supposed to talk
like--"
"Oh, sorry, boy. That's right. When we get downstairs, you
can start calling me sir, and all that other military talk."
"Is that the same as master and slave stuff?"
"Yes, pretty much."
"What's downstairs?"
"Oh, right. That'll be our secret. Downstairs, I have a boy
named Cory."
"I like that name. It's sexy. How old is he?"
"Sixteen."
"Ohhhhhhh, yeah!"
"I take it you like boys that age."
"Sixteen is hot."
"What other ages do you like?"
"I don't know," he said, shrugging his shoulders cutely, "I
guess fifteen and older. Do you wanna have sex with me?"
"Yes, I would. But I'm . . . saving you for Cory, right now."
"Oh, okay."
"Do you shoot, yet?"
"Oh, yeah. I shoot real good. I started making cum like a
year ago."
"That's perfect. Would you like to strip to your underwear for
me?"
"Just to my underwear? You don't want me naked?"
"Not just yet."
"Oh," he said, looking a bit distressed.
"What's wrong, Todd?"
"Well, sir--my underwear is . . . sorta worn. It's not--"
"I have just the thing. Come with me to my room." I had an
assortment of bikinis and thongs, most of which were props of
my fantasies, but would fit Todd rather well, I thought.
"Wow, those are cool," the boy said, obviously pleased.
"Pick the one you like, and you can keep it for yourself."
"Wow! You mean it? I like this one," he said, taking a thin
red brief.
Todd pulled off his shoes, socks, shirt, and shorts at
lightning speed. His underwear was a threadbare, dull-looking
pair of white briefs, but I thought he looked quite good in
them.
Anxiety seemed to dominate his face as he stared down at the
bulge in his briefs, apparently hesitant to take them off. "I
hope you won't be disappointed--"
"Stop right there," I said, kindly. I knew where he was going
with that. "I'm hoping you have a small penis. I just have my
reasons."
"No kidding?"
"No kidding." With Cory's distaste of young partners, the
smaller the better.
"Wow. That's the first time I heard THAT," he said, gulping
cutely. "I, um . . . do have a small dick." His tense
expression turned into a boyish smile.
"I can't wait to see it."
"Well, um--I'm not hard," he said, as if some cardinal rule
were broken.
"That's even better."
"Well, okay." And off came the dull briefs. Todd's offerings
were anything but dull. A perfectly formed penis sat upon a
tight scrotum. His balls were somewhat disproportionately
large for his dick, giving the organ an even more diminutive
look--but not small for his age, if I remembered correctly.
Todd was perfect for Cory--in the way I had in mind.
"Beautiful!" I said, earning his shy but proud, wide grin.
"I just took a shower, so I'm all real clean," Todd said
enthusiastically in his delightful manner. "Are you gonna make
me hard, Roger?"
"Hmm, I hadn't thought about that. Tell me, what's a good way
to get you hard?"
"Blow air on my dick!" he said so quickly, I wondered if he'd
rehearsed this answer.
I went to my knees and did as he'd suggested. In amazement, I
watched his little penis grow to a respectable three or four
inches. When I looked up at his face, I saw an adorable,
blushing boy.
"You look good enough to eat," I said, looking him in the eye.
Todd nearly went to the floor, giggling. His amusement was
catching, and I laughed along with him. "Well, you can eat me
anytime," the boy said between giggles.
"Maybe later, but I want Cory to do that. This is another
secret I must tell you. Cory hasn't come for over twenty-four
hours. I've been teasing him and punishing him since last
night."
"Punishing?" the boy said with a devilish grin.
"Yes, you'll see."
"Last time I came was after dinner last night, so it's been a
while," Todd said, touching his organ anxiously.
"That's wonderful, Todd." I suppressed a laugh. I didn't need
to ask to know that he was a frequent masturbator. "Anyway,
the other secret is that Cory thinks it's . . . beneath him to
give pleasure to someone as young as you. He thinks it's
embarrassing. And, I hope you don't mind, but that's where you
come in."
Dennis B.
StoriesNew@Yahoo.com
Any comments would be great!
I'd feel so much better hearing from you and knowing you're out
there. If you're not sure what to say, tell me what you liked.
Or whatever. :-) --Dennis
That's all I wrote so far. Thanks for reading.
Hope you liked it.
Even one email would put a smile on my face and make it
easier to write more.
DENNIS B. - STORY LIST AS OF 02 MARCH 2006
1. Teaching My Son a Hard Lesson (Dad teases and
spanks his son, and gets aroused suddenly. Ages
13, 16, to adult.
-Last post APPROX. March 2, 2006
THERE ARE 12 OTHER STORIES - I hope you read most of them and
let me know what you think :-)
2. Scout Campout Qualifying Competitions (Camping and
some incest. Ages 12 through 17.)
- Last post APPROX. Feb. 3, 2006.
3. Crazy for Chad (Love story. Ages 16 & 17.)
- Last post APPROX. Jan. 11, 2006.
High School.
4. Boy Who Was Late for School
(A tender story. Ages 24 and 13)
- Last post APPROX. Jan. 8, 2006.
Adult-Youth.
5. Finding the Boy Who Stole My Heart (A kind
of love story. Ages 22 and 15.)
- Last post APPROX. Oct. 9, 2005.
Adult-Youth.
6. Discovering My Little Brother (Brothers,
17 and 13 start to get along real well.)
- Last post APPROX. Nov. 14, 2005.
Incest.
7. Teasing My Hot Little Brother
(Big brother gets curious; ages 17 & 15)
- Last post APPROX. Jan 14, 2006.
Incest.
8. Little Brother Wanted it Bad
(little bro wants big bro; ages 17 & 15.)
- Newest story.
- Last post APPROX. Jan 26, 2006;
Incest.
9. My Son Drives Me Crazy (Tender dad and son.)
- Last post APPROX. Oct. 8, 2005.
Incest.
10. Spankin High School Club Initiation
(High school ages. Later, some college guys.
Some soccer action.)
- Last post APPROX. Dec. 4, 2005.
High School; Athletics.
(Please note there are 2 titles with the words
"Spankin' High" in them. When you write, be sure
to let me know which story you read. Sorry, I
didn't think of that when I picked the titles.)
11. Getting it Hard at Spankin' High
(A discipline-school story; ages 13 to 19.)
- Last post APPROX. Oct. 31, 2005.
Authoritarian.
12. Frat Initiation Hell Week (Ages 13 to 22.
Not as grueling as first meets the eye.
Most characters are of college age.)
- Last post APPROX. Nov. 7, 2005.
Authoritarian.
13. Getting to Know My Hot Big Brother
(Big bro has eyes for little bro; Ages 16 to 18)
- Last post APPROX. Feb. 18, 2006.
LAST POST DATES good as of March 2, 2006, and
may be off by several days either way. ACTUAL POST
DATES may be LATER, by the time you read this,
because new chapters of the listed stories may have
been posted since this was written.
Thanks,
Dennis
StoriesNew@Yahoo.com