Date: Sun, 27 Oct 2013 18:51:11 -0700 (PDT)
From: Dave Krenshaw <davekrenshaw@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Taking of Son Billy's Cherry:  Installment 6

	     The Taking of Son Billy's Cherry:  Installment 6


		 by Dave Krenshaw:  davekrenshaw@yahoo.com


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This story is entirely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and
incidents portrayed in such work are either the product of the author's
imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, that you yourself have knowledge of is entirely
coincidental.  Also, please keep in mind that nothing in this story is
being presented with the intent of condoning or promoting unsafe sexual
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Well, since the time Billy, as he himself has so related, had his little
reunion while away at college with Preston, I got on with my own life here
in Appalachian Spring Hillsdale Village in more ways than one.


Strangely enough, with Billy now in his senior year of college, I am
reliving more than ever in my mind the time I took his cherry.  I have come
to realize that I have this obsession with Coach Thorneheart, his former
swim coach and still at present a happily-married family man.  The fact is
that I have come to realize that I have some anger and resentment about
Coach Thornehart having been the object of his feelings of lust and desire:
I feel, quite, frankly, that it should have been ME!


I look now into the full-length mirror near the closet door in the master
bedroom; and this is what I see staring back at me: an extremely
masculine-looking man standing fully nude and presently in his mid-fifties,
six-feet-two-inches, about 195 pounds, and a bit flabby in some parts but
still overall on the muscular side, with chiseled-defined pecs modestly
nestled in a densely hairy but mainly-noticeably-gray-haired chest and with
a treasure trail of hair strikingly extending from between his pecs and all
the way down to his pubic area.  His name is Davey Robert James, though
many of the locals he interacts with continue to affectionately call him
"Uncle Davey".


"Come on, Davey! You must be exhausted from all the fuss earlier.  Come to
bed already; and let's call it a night."


I look over my shoulder; and smile at the man calling out to me from our
bed.


"All right, I mean, you are right, of course.  Any regrets at all, Tim?"


"About us?  Hell no!  I mean, I believe it was fate that we hooked up with
one another at that adult book-store in Atlanta while we were both there
attending that teachers' convention for Charleston-area and other nearby
educators."


"Well, I am coming to bed, but I don't think I will be able to sleep very
well at all.  As I told you on the phone, Billy said he intends to marry
Preston right after college graduation; and that he hopes the two of them
will have my blessing as to the nuptials but isn't sure he really wants me
to be at the wedding."


"THAT was a very hurtful thing to say, Davey, no question at all about
that.  My vote is we should give him that big surprise we had planned for
him RIGHT NOW, why wait till late in the morn to spring it on him?  You
think he is still fast asleep in his old room from all that anti-allergy
crap you said he took before crashin'?"


I just nod in assent while snuggling under the covers.  I am hurt; and I am
major pissed; and I do not give a darn quite frankly about what Billy's
reaction will in fact be.


Tim gives me an intent look directly into my eyes; and mutters, sort of
under his breath: "All right, then, let's GIVE IT to him."


We tiptoe into the other bedroom; and I nudge Billy, lying on his back and
snoozing soundly, on his shoulder and just enough to awaken him.


"Huh, is everything all right, what is it, Dad?"


"You just listen to me, your dad showed me that journal of yours while you
were away in western Texas.  I know all about your fantasizing about me."


"Coach Thorneheart!!"



"You got that right, you little disrespectful lounger.  Surprise!!!!"



Billy immediately sits upright in his bed, his complexion now an
ashen-white.  His jaw literally drops.  I am tempted to say something in
warning, but deep inside am very much aware it's far too late: I know
better, and, besides: It's really in every sense too late for pleas of
mercy: When Timothy Thorneheart sets a plan in motion, there's just plain
no stopping him.


Billy gives Tim a brief pleading look.


"Not a single word, Davey."


Tim hops right onto the bed and straddles Billy's waist.  He pushes Billy's
head back down to his pillow; and pushes the full dark-purplish mushroom
head of his nine-inch greatly-thick close-to-completely-hard cock right
into his mouth."


"You best suck on this really nice and good, as if your life depends on it.
I expect you to do just as good a job as those track meet punks did for me
in the school showers."


I get right into the bed; and join the two of them, all the while watching
Billy resignedly but with sufficient fervor suck on Tim's cock as Tim
gradually pushes a bit of his shaft into Billy's mouth to get it nice and
slick.



"Oh, yeah, that's it, you keep that up, boy.  You know I have had my eye on
you for quite some period of time, I even hid a camera in your locker at
school: That way I got to see you nude while changin'; and I often got off
watchin' the videos of you, even one with that prick of yours, Preston, as
well."



I begin to prep Billy as best I can for what is coming: I suck slowly on
the outside of his pinkish pucker; and begin to rim him passionately with
much of my hot tongue.  Billy moans, though of course his moaning is
significantly muffled by the majestic manhood between his lips.


Tim yanks out his cock in one clean, crisp motion.


"Now, you listen up, really good, Billy boy.  If you scream or try to flee,
I will split you wide open like a watermelon.  You best go along with all;
and just take it like a man.  Besides, you sure as heck don't want this
filthy little journal of yours to ever been seen by those nice prissy
school officials there in your fancy little university in Texas.  Play your
cards right; and we just might even burn the darn thing later today."



I know that I had taken it time and time again, in fact I am quite used to
it.  Billy, however, is a different story: I am not sure that he can handle
Tim's cock.  Yet, I hold my tongue, knowing very well that it is not in my
best interest to interfere: I will not risk losing Tim, I don't even care
if I am being selfish at this time, thinking of myself first I mean.



I hastily shove a pillow under Billy's ample ass-cheeks.  Billy parts his
legs as wide open as possible, in complete submission.



Tim, though already forty-five years of age, clearly still has the stamina
of the most virile stallion in the rodeo.  I watch dumbfounded as without
the slightest bit of hesitation, he plunges the complete full length of his
huge manhood directly into Billy's love-hole.


Billy gasps, I see several tears stream down his cheeks like a waterfalls,
though I am unsure if they are from pain entirely, as opposed to sheer
humiliation.  Strangely, by this point, everything is feeling dream-like to
me, surreal, it's like I am watching a porn film in some sleazy movie
theater that I barely even remember going to in the first place; and it is
like I am a performer in the movie that I myself am watching.


"Tim, please."



"Hush, Davey, don't go soft on me, now."


Of course, I now know that it is completely too late; and, quite frankly, I
am afraid to say even a single word more.  The words are pounding in my
head: "TOO LATE!!  TOO LATE!!!  TOO LATE!!!!"



Tim starts thrustin' those sexy hips of his, he is takin' his time,
relishing every moment, and really gettin' into it as he builds up a steady
pace and a bit of momentum.  There are about eleven thrusts
partially-in-and-out; and Bill's ankles are draped over Tim's shoulders and
sometimes lightly bouncing on the same as Tim's moderate-sized extremely
hairy manly balls slap against Billy's plush mounds.



Ironically, Billy himself is the one who set all of this in motion: He is
the one who had this planned seduction of his former swim team coach; and
then had the stupidity to write down all of his sexual fantasies as to the
same.  Soon enough, my mind drifts away from the reality and the magnitude
of what is transpiring:



I am now once again in the shower; and thoroughly pleasuring myself in the
invigorating warmth of the shower spray and massage gadget.  I begin to
think about Billy and how he was so ripe at the still-tender-age of
seventeen: I visualize his remarkably smooth and plush-looking silky buns.
In my mind, in fact, all I can see is his porcelain-colored buns.  I gaze
downward while soaping up and to my glee see that my cock, dangling in the
breeze, my eight-inch moderately thick cut cock, is once again up for all;
and standing at full attention.  While I casually soap up my cock laying in
my lathered fingers, I realize that I have these very strong feelings of
lust with regard to my own son.  I begin to vigorously caress my
ample-sized balls and gently stroke the full length of my shaft.  The image
in my mind now transforms to one of my cock snugly in place in between the
seducing buns of my son.  I pump and pump my majestic member with great
passion, releasing one of the hugest loads against the shower wall tiles
that I have ever released in my life.  As the cascading water of the shower
washes away my cum, I begin to envision about making love to my son over
and over and over again.



"That's it, Davey, you go strong, just like I did moments ago, make a real
man out of this slutty punk son of yours for once and for all."


I am suddenly jolted back by Tim's words into reality: I am penetrating
Billy deeply; and have already cummed heavily into his love cavern.  It
feels so right, so perfect, truly, on so many levels, especially so as I
fondly recall that I was in fact the one to have taken the cherry of my
seemingly-innocent and, what I now know to be, gay son, Billy.