Date: Thu, 29 Mar 2001 16:06:25 -0800
From: Desert Guys <jg.ps@gte.net>
Subject: Thanks, Grampa Chapter Six

Thanks, Grampa
A short story by Greg Bowden
jg.ps@gte.net

Saturday, May 18, 1957

I jacked off about sixteen times the next week picturing my dad and his
brother fucking. Sometimes Uncle Dan was on dad and sometimes the other
way. I even had them in different positions, some of which I really wanted
to try myself. Ron and I got together one afternoon after school but he
wouldn't try anything different. In fact, he didn't seem very anxious to do
much of anything but jack off. Later I spent an evening with my friend Wes
and we fooled around a little but got interrupted. None of this
mattered. By Saturday I was hornier than I think I've ever been.

After the week before I was also getting bolder and was determined that
this week I would get to touch my dad's dick. I took off my clothes and
went into his room as soon as I heard him turn on his shower. I sat on the
end of his bed, just like I had when I'd gotten to hold his balls, and
tried to keep my hands from shaking.

I almost lost my nerve when I heard the shower being shut off but dad came
out of the bathroom, still wet and toweling off, right away and I thought
it wouldn't look right if I jumped up and moved.

My dad grinned at me and dried between his buns. "I wonder which it is that
brings you here so timely. The jacking off or the story telling." He rubbed
the towel over his pubic hair and then along his dick, pulling the foreskin
back and carefully drying under it. "Well, no matter. As long as you're
enjoying both as much as I am." He tossed the towel on a chair and got on
the bed.

"Hey, what's up, son?" he asked when I didn't move into my place next to
him. "Something bothering you?"

I turned and looked at him. He was stretched out on the bed, his legs
slightly spread and his dick was still soft, lying over his balls. I tried
to smile and he cocked his head expectantly at me. "I... Could I..."

He laughed. "Come on son, spit it out. What do you want to ask of your old
jack off buddy?" He turned suddenly serious. "Or is it something you need
to ask your dad?"

I still do this when I get flustered; I just blurt out whatever it
is. Bluntly. And with no finesse whatsoever. "No! I mean yes. I mean... Can
I touch your dick? Please?"

His smile came back. "Touch my dick? Of course you can touch my dick, all
you want." He waited just a second or two and then added, "Of course if you
do, that means I get to touch yours, too. Right?" He didn't wait for an
answer, he just pulled himself a little further up on the bed, tucked his
pillow behind his head and spread his legs.

My hand was shaking when I reached out to him but he pretended not to
notice. "It'll get hard, you know, as soon as you touch it," he said
quietly. I nodded and took hold if it. It was very warm in my hand and felt
alive as it began to grow. I held it loosely and felt it swell and stretch
until it was full size and I could just feel his heartbeat down inside
it. I looked up and he was watching me, smiling.

"Well, whose does it feel like? Yours? Ron's?"

I shook my head. "No. None of those. It feels like yours." I slid the
foreskin down the shaft until the whole head was exposed. The skin of the
head was pink and very smooth, not all pebbly like Ron's. I didn't know how
it compared to mine, I had never been able to see mine that close. I moved
it back, towards his belly, so I could look at the underside. It was pink
too, and even smoother than the head. When I touched it there he groaned
quietly and I knew he was as sensitive there as I am. I wanted to lick him
there.

He flexed it and it jumped out of my hand. When I took hold of it again the
skin had crawled back up the shaft and was nearly covering the head. I slid
it back and then up, so it completely covered the head. I took his balls in
my other hand and he flexed again but I held on to it. I moved the skin up
and down, feeling the ridge of the head as my hand slid over it. It felt
deeper than mine, flared out so it would catch my hand on the up stroke.

"Easy, son. You get there faster when someone else is doing it and I'm
nowhere near ready to be there." I looked up at him again and he grinned at
me. "Besides, I haven't made my comparison yet." He caught me under the
arms and pulled me up the bed and tucked a pillow behind my head, just like
he had his. I spread my legs a little and hoped I wouldn't come when he
touched my cock.

He was very gentle, handling my cock as though it might crack or break or
something. And, being the coolest dad in the world, he wasn't tongue-tied
either. "I think your skin is smoother than mine." He looked up and grinned
at me. "Maybe it's because of Ron's hand lotion." He pretty much did all
the things I did to him except he wet his finger in his mouth before he
touched that sensitive place on the underside. When he moved his slick
fingertip around I had to bite my tongue so I wouldn't come. He saw and
said, "Yea." Then he pulled my skin over the head and moved up to lie
beside me. "Nice dick, kid."

"Did it feel like anyone's?" I figured if he could ask so could I.

"Yea, it did. It's a dead ringer."

"Who's? Uncle Dan's?"

"No, his isn't nearly as thick as yours. And not as long, either." I
started to ask again but he held his hand up. "Not now. You're supposed to
be telling me about what you and Ron do, remember? We agreed..."

We had. But how was I going to tell my own dad about stuff like that? He
solved the problem for me.

"Hey, when I told you about me and my brother, did it bother you?" I shook
my head. "So what makes you think anything you and Ron do is going to
bother me"

It made sense. Even to me. "Well," I said, taking my cock in my hand, "once
we figured out how to jack off we just started fooling around. One day, a
couple of weeks after we'd been doing it every chance we got, Ron asked me
if I knew what a blow job was." I watched him playing with his dick and
wished it was my hand down there.

"And did you?"

I don't think I even blushed this time. "No. So we looked in that book, you
know, the one you hid behind the encyclopedia? We couldn't find anything,
probably because we didn't know the right name for it." I looked up at
him. "Do you?"

"Know the right name? Yea, I do. And no, I'm not going to tell you until
later, when you can write it down. Go on."

"Well, we tried blowing on each other's cocks but that didn't seem like
much fun so we just jacked each other off. The next day I asked my friend
Wes if he knew what it was. He didn't know the right name either but he
said he was pretty sure it was when you stick your cock in someone's mouth
and they suck on it."

"What'd you think about that?"

"I don't know. It sounded weird at first but the more I thought about it
the more I wanted to try it. Ron thought the same thing but he said he'd do
it if I would. It turned out it wasn't weird at all. It felt good."
Thinking about the next part made me laugh. "The first couple of times we
did it we had an agreement. He would suck me for thirty seconds and then
I'd do it to him for thirty seconds. The guy doing the sucking held Ron's
watch so he could make sure he didn't do more than he had to."

Dad laughed too. "How long did it take to get over that?"

"I don't know. A couple of times I guess. Then I didn't stop after the
thirty seconds and just kept on until Ron came. That about took the top of
his head off. It took Ron longer to do that to me and he never does like it
when I come in his mouth." I was getting close and had to let go of my cock
altogether and just play with my balls. Dad did the same thing with his. We
were both breathing a little hard.

"Dad, did you and Dan ever... You know."

"Suck each other? Yea, I guess we did a few times. He wasn't too keen on
it. Roger loved it though, at least getting sucked."

"You sucked Uncle Roger?"

He laughed. "Yea, but that's another story for another time. Right now
we're hearing about you and Ron. What else do you guys do?"

"Well, sometimes we do what you and Uncle Dan did. Not very much though,
because Ron doesn't really like it. I mean, he likes to... well, to..."

"It's okay, son. I know the word. Fuck, right? He likes to fuck but doesn't
like getting fucked?"

Hearing my dad use that word took my breath away. I'd never in my life
heard an adult use that word. I thought it sometimes and some of the guys
said it-but only when there weren't any adults or girls who could
hear. Remember, this is the late fifties. Then, that lovely word was never
uttered in company, no matter how impolite, and, as far as we knew, it had
never been printed except by us in our notebooks, in tiny letters, just to
see what it looked like. Times change.

"Yea. He... Yea."

"How about you?" Dad was jerking his dick faster now. So was I.

"It hurt the first couple of times. At least at the beginning. But then it
felt good, you know? Full and... I don't know. Connected?" I tried to feel
what it was like but I couldn't. I watched my dad jerking his dick and
suddenly saw him doing it to me. Fucking me. I came.

Dad must have been watching me because when I let my first shot go he
groaned, "Oh, man, yes!" and came too. We got it all over each other again.

We laid side by side, legs touching, for a time while we got our breath
back. Finally he looked over at me. "You going to do it again? Like last
week? With the cum?"

"How'd you know?"

He waived at his bathroom. "Mirror. Gives a good view from the shower. If
you're going to, may I stay and watch?" He slicked the cum off his chest
and belly and gently rubbed it over my cock. He did the same thing with the
cum on my chest.

It took me about two minutes and it was better than the week before because
he was watching.

That evening, at dinner, I found a 3X5 card at my place. FELLATIO was
printed on the card in block letters.

--------------------------
To be continued.
Comments, suggestions and criticisms gladly received and answered.
jg.ps@gte.net