Date: Mon, 13 Oct 2008 18:42:42 -0400
From: joeyinnodoubtland@gmail.com
Subject: "An Unconventional Bedtime Story: Part Three"

An Unconventional Bedtime Story

Part 3 - Use Once & Destroy

	My culminating class was pleasantly AP Literature, which was an
excellent end to the most impatient day of my life.  English had always
been my passion, and so this was somewhat relieving after strenuous
mathematics, but regardless, my passion for Dad was light years,
infinitely, insurmountably untouchable in comparison to my love for
English.  That day I was restless, distant; I was there, even doing my
work, but in an unconscious, habitual idle.  My thoughts rested in
anticipation for the "heavenly assignation", so to speak, that I was
doubtless would be inevitable by nightfall. My father and I being alone and
content as always on weekday evenings, but without saying tonight, a full
day after the "newborn" premises, that something remarkably romantic, in a
definition only we could understand, would ensue unchangeably.
	"Wow, Johnny, your poem received top marks! Yours has been selected
for the annual contest," spoke Professor Smith, a short portly woman who
couldn't get her own novel published, but was inspiring.  We had been
assigned the task of writing a poem creatively, the best reaching
semi-finals (with an Ipod as reward for making it! Yes!), and perhaps even
the finals, and if won there, the poet would receive 2,000 cash.  My poem
was very good, but the context was so very harshly ironic:

"Forever" Romance eliminates division.  A gifted partner to listen.  Love
seemingly found in full.  Confused from the tempest's pull.  Rule of thumb:
Never look a fool.

Eternal soul mates today.  Yet a mere three year stay.  Vows unfulfilled.
Contract distilled.  Magnificent Mountain to Hellish Hill.

Cherished independence, but a heart's demand.  Desire for dependence, and
now an overdue reprimand.  And then an unfortunate self-loathing; exile in
dismay.  Where's the hopeful light, an incentive to pray?  Needs so long
ignored; shameful, no prayer to say.

Is it a natural instinct to seek a companion?  Or is it a defense
mechanism, a social compassion?  Ultimately, results of a detrimental
fashion.  A prized domestication sunk to the world of nether.  Left without
a soul sincere to believe in forever.

	It was quite analytical, doubtlessly, and it wisely portrayed facts
that are undeniable, certainly.  And yet here I am, earnestly entering my
first serious relationship.  But in my case, and only in my case, these
facts are countered; our love is unique, quite obviously, and no two people
on earth have ever shared a bond so potently intangible, so insusceptible
to negating forces.  It was humorous in some respects, really; in
retrospect, perhaps I am making a mockery of those in relationships
inferior to my own -- A mockery that so happens to exclude only my father
and myself. Ha, how glorious we are!
	"Wow, I'm shocked!" I exclaimed modestly, which I was perfect at
doing, even adding, "I really didn't think it was that well-written!"
	Was I truly shocked? Perhaps not, I am quite assured when I have
written something notably excellent.  The poem was written in passionate
rejection of the marriage system, though it was a feeling felt weeks ago --
I didn't hold the same passion now that I had vehemently inserted into the
poem.  But this was lovely news! Unfortunately, all news was now
desensitized, inevitably, thanks to Father. Still, my Ipod had broken --
This was awesome.
	I was to reclaim the gift the next morning before school, and so
walking to the bus ramp I felt quite elated and relieved -- I was going
home to Dad! Hopefully he wasn't still working at the store, because that
would prolong our painful distance.  I doubted it seriously, though; no
doubt his mind would have rested on me the entire day and in unison with
his priorities of course.  It was a Tuesday, the store was slower on the
weekdays, and besides, Dad already took in considerably heft profits, being
so admired a great assist.
	He'd be home when I got there.  I was passing the car ramp,
reminded myself that on my seventeenth birthday on June 2 I would have my
own sports car -- Right in time for the summer at the end of term.  I was
used to the routine of riding the bus home, and it wasn't so bad
considering I was the second stop.  So I was at ease, but I was gifted with
yet another big stroke of luck -- Honking his slick, trendy convertible's
horn, his hair waving in the wind, was Dad, smiling and waving at me in a
way only I knew was insinuative.  It was just spectacular!
	I scurried in, and a few people waved at us due to our popularity
as the model father and son -- If only they knew.  As we pulled out of my
school, just beating the exiting buses and the consequential
traffic. Casually as if nothing had changed, we idly discussed our days of
dutiful toils.
	"Your poem won the contest! I'm so proud of you," Dad looked at me
in absolute admiration of my triumph, granting a unique smile reserved
especially for his soul mate, his son.  He patted me on the knee of my
jeans affectionately, but somehow this wasn't the same, even if the
delivery was identical; his touch would never feel the same.  Ever.
	I was doubtless that similar thoughts were manifesting in his brain
when he instantly pressed the button to pull the top back up.  The bright
sun had shone over us heavily a moment ago, but as the car's roof slid
securely over us, the sun's illumination seemed to almost completely cease.
Of course the front window illuminated the outside for Dad to drive, but
the side windows were tinted very darkly.  Instantly we both sunk into the
now more private environment by second nature.
	His hand had never left my knee, and now it squeezed it
passionately.  I closed my eyes momentarily, grateful eternally for the
ceased wait.  He hastily moved his hand closer and closer.... And still he
warily watched the road, driving perfectly with his left hand.  I did feel
quite nervous in the car, but my anticipation, my overwhelming excitement,
obliterated it.  I suppose that would be rash otherwise, but now with Dad;
he'd always protect me.  I felt so elated, that being the most accurate
word, as, eyes firmly shut in my limitlessly unguarded state, I heard and
felt him slyly slide down my zipper, but then before I knew it my belt was
off, and then I helped loosen my jeans all the way to the latter of my
undergarments.  His allowance was timelessly granted, and his workspace was
displayed in adamancy.  His job would be easy and pivotally pleasurable
without doubt.
	My instincts did become more potent, though, at this
progression. "Dad, be careful ... If we get caught ... I can't even begin
to think ..." My tone was trusting but apprehensive.
	"Quiet, Johnny," he said, his tone being almost paternally
stern. "Don't worry, my son, I would not allow any danger, you know this."
	It was true: we were proceeding down Burn Street, an almost always
vacant back road with many vacant office buildings.  Besides, the tinted
windows pretty much secured us; if the cars heading from the opposite side
looked through the windshield, they wouldn't be able to view the interior's
depth to witness what was happening.  Why would I even think to worry?
Instantly, I calmed myself.
	He noticed this, approvingly nodded and smiled, then cupped my
testicles, largely tangible thanks to the heater (why had I not discerned
his intentions when I first got in the car? The heater was fully blasted in
May - Ha.), and without suggestion he squeezed perfectly -- Instantly a
pool of pleasure erupted throughout me, and I knew even though this
"eruption" was already sizeable, I would be a buffoon to think the peak was
anywhere near the initiation.
	I moaned loudly in my surprise of the electrifying sensations, and
looking to the perpetrator next to me, my mouth hung open, my eyes were
dazed, and my neck leaned back a bit in bliss.  As my eyes finally focused
back into reality I saw his triumphantly joyous smile, and I wanted more.
He squeezed again, even better, and then again...
	Take my description of the primary, maximize by a billion, and you
may have a fraction of understanding of the pleasure.
	We stopped at a ghostly empty red light, which was pointless for
that very reason, but this time convenient.  Utilizing this bonus, he took
his other hand, and still maintaining repetitious care to my testicles, he
grabbed my fully erect, eight inch penis with his right hand, and quickly,
so ambitiously so to speak, stroked it relentlessly.  I floated away
somewhere to an indescribable, yet simplistic perfect world, in which
solitarily only we existed, and the pleasure was a necessity to survival.
I was fully nourished, obviously.
	Here there are angels.
	Here there are golden roads.
	Here there is no suffering.
	Here there is no judgment.
	Here there is bliss.
	At least that is the mere earthly metaphorical explanation
fathomable.
	He had to stop to continuing driving, but in thirty seconds we were
pulling onto our road.  Hastily, I re-dressed myself, removed my seat belt,
and practically raced Dad to the front door, though he somehow won despite
my haste.  My keys were out of my pocket first, and I unlocked the door
roughly, making it my triumph. Slow and steady wins the race, doesn't it?
Ha.  Dad slammed the door impatiently as though in a rage, which he may
have perceiving felt, so to speak -- A raged and potent desire.
	Our actions immediately were primitively physical: Dad quickly
unbuttoned every button my shirt, caressing his hands all over my chest,
while I pulled off his small gym shorts (which I was now sure he wore
intentionally), and I discovered he was wearing no underwear.  Dad knew
what he was doing.  As I began to grab his dick in my left hand firmly I
felt my jeans fall off, then my boxer briefs even faster.  Our dicks were
both so hard they bounced off each other.
	I was first to begin stroking his cock avidly, and of course we
were soon both doing this to each other with overwhelming, penetrating
effect, if you will.  It was magical to receive and give bliss to each
other at the same time, enjoying both ends of the pleasure spectrum.  The
only sounds were our rushing breaths; we did not speak, for our focus was
entirely on each other's sexual pleasures.  With my free hand I'd grab his
soft, hairy ass and he mine.  I had a nice bubble butt, a lot like his, but
mine was hairless.  As much as we loved stroking each other's dick, we
mutually became mesmerized by the other's ass.  Both of your hands squeezed
the other's ass passionately, and before we knew it I was rubbing his
asshole.  It felt so nice, soft, welcoming.  As I massaged a finger around
it, I felt the small tight opening just a bit; he, too, was doing the same
to me, and I just wanted more, and more, and more...
	Just as I was going to place a finger deeply inside him, he
stopped, pulling us into his bedroom, and onto the master bed for comfort.
He pushed me onto the bed, climbing halfway on top of me, reaching in the
air for my hands, which he folded into his, and then fell into a deep kiss
as he pressed his whole body against mine; it was exasperating.  It was
getting so perfectly heated...
	And the door bell rang.  Isn't that just lovely?
	Instantly we were distracted and our pleasure cut off abruptly.
Becoming alert, Dad said, "God damn it! Who the fuck?" He sounded quite
angry, but he got up off me in haste and scrambled to put his clothes back
on.
	"This sucks," I moaned unhappily at him, and he rolled his eyes
agreeably.  We both ran out to the living room where our clothes were
scattered messily, and quickly put them on.  I went to answer the door.
The irony of the situation was that awaiting my greeting at the doorstep
was my fellow teammate Joey Preston - A 6'2, largely muscled, well-tanned
blonde guy with Arian features.  The guy was a Gemini like myself (yes I
follow the signs religiously, because only a blinded fool would deny the
clear authenticity of the zodiac) and had a rather enticing personality,
though we had never really had any relations outside of the team -- And he
also happened to be a guy I had secretly crushed on ever since the first
day of freshman year when I saw him in our homeroom period.  I was
captivated by his beauty.  And now, in something beyond bizarre irony, for
the first time ever he was at my house, and at a time when I was fulfilling
my deepest fantasies, which in themselves were the only ones that exceeded
the ones I had of him.  I was in part quite perturbed, considering he had
never once sought me out at my home, and now he had with such impeccable
timing, so to speak.  Still I was very curious -- What on earth would
provoke Joey here now?
	He smiled brightly (so adorably, I can't fathom a disguise for that
pulsing feeling) as I opened the door.  He ran a hand through his spiked
blonde hair and then rested it around his neck lightly, leaning a bit; it
all felt like sweet nostalgia.  Not that my desire for him was anywhere
near that for Dad -- I read the Andromeda Galaxy is 2.5 million light years
away, and I'd say the separation between the two was about a trillion times
longer.  Still, it was pretty impressive to be second place to Dad, and
since I was already so horny, I was instantly hard through my jeans.  I
shuddered fearfully and prayed he wouldn't see.
	"Hey, Joey! What's up?" I asked cheerfully. "Never seen you around
here before."
	He laughed lightly, and he explained in a friendly tone, "Well, I
wanted to talk about the upcoming game with my coach! And I thought it'd be
fun to maybe hang out for a bit since we never really have.  Sorry I
couldn't call, I didn't have your number."
	I began to feel quite pleasant despite the timing, happy to see
Joey here.  I was leaning my arms on the threshold, and as I moved back to
welcome him in my erection pulsed ferociously by the jean zipper, revealed
as conspicuous as ever.  I shook and sweat instantly in drastic roughness,
but once I finally willed myself courageously to glance at Joey, I noticed
he was gawking at it with a smile.  He realized a moment too late that I
had looked up, and quickly he returned his focus to my face.  But this
momentary awkward incident had just illuminated a shocking, somewhat
pivotal fact: Joey was gay, and it seemed as though my crush for him was
returned.  Sporadically I was struck with the epiphany that his actual
motives had been quite the antithesis to his explanation, this was obvious.
Why would he even attempt such a bold move, though, without any evidence
that I would at all comply with some sort of romance act?
	And then I remembered.
	In the showers a week ago, he and I had been the last teammates
still cleaning, which was consequential of being the two most zealously
superb players.  Usually I simply disciplined myself against taking a peek
at any of my teammates, the risk much too detrimental, but I couldn't
resist the temptation to look at, to ... discern, if you will, his amazing
beauty.  Inevitably I became rock hard, my eight inch dick standing out
even worse than the "elephant in the room", if you will, and I did panic
when I saw him look my way.  It seemed impossible that he hadn't noticed,
but after a mere blink he had returned to bathing himself in a humdrum
routine, as though there had been no alarming interruption.  I had felt so
lucky, and disregarded it after a few days in which he had acted completely
normal.
	But there was much more substance to this situation now - Joey
Preston had desirable motives towards me.  Dad came over to see what was
going on, and very politely greeted Joey in.  I told Dad we'd be in my room
discussing our game, hating that I was partially deceiving him now.  We
went and sat on opposite sides of my queen-size bed, Joey laying back a bit
to relax.  He was clearly hard, though his dick was positioned so it only
poked up through the front of his jeans; it wasn't surreptitious, though
not totally unsubtle either, and it was just enough to silently verbalize
that Joey was slightly relentless to fulfill a fantasy he may have had for
as long as I had.  I was sitting up, but to the right of my zipper was an
insurmountable erection nearly breaking through the fabric.
	I hopelessly attempted to distract from the sinful desires in both
of our minds by speaking avidly about our game sporadically.  He responded
with equal excitement (I suppose since nonetheless the discussion was still
absolutely essential), and it would have seemed totally normal given the
normal conversation, but once again the two objects in which the 'elephant
in the room' analogy does not do justice were boldly evident in front of
them.
	And so the dreaded topic came up, Joey saying quietly and
nervously, "I saw you the other day in the showers, I'm pretty sure you
know that.  I suspected for a long time you might be gay, too, but it was
too awesome to then finally know.  You got hard over me, so I have to
believe you like me too."
	I mentally laughed in mirthful cynic at the multitude of irony: had
this encounter taken place a mere forty right hours ago, it would have been
perfect.  We would already be relentlessly fucking like animals.  I
couldn't help but deeply wish to fulfill what had been an intangible desire
for almost three years.  The impulse was only natural, and I realized it
could be a conflict in the future as well; I couldn't help my attraction
towards the youthful boys my age.  Of course with the supremacy of Dad I
could easily suppress any such dilemma, and I was perfectly assured that
consequentially it would be impossible for me to fall for someone else now.
But I had fallen for Joey for so long...
	"I've liked you since the first day in freshman year." Overwhelmed
by such distressing emotions I couldn't relent from relieving myself
through coming clean. "Never did I think it would ever happen."  I rested
my elbows on my knees and stared at the ground with my right hand pulsing
against my left temple in frustration.  It felt so unfair for this to
happen -- No dose of karma had been earned, no lesson to be learned here,
only pain.
	"I guess that's why we were never close - We were too scared from
our secret," Joey remarked this comment in a regretful tone, nostalgically
reminding me of the melody from my Aunt Josephine's lament at her
funeral. (She died in the war). "But now it's okay."
	He moved closer to me on the bed, sliding down a bit like me to get
closer.  He brushed his arms against mine intentionally; electric sparks
striking my bones, and gently joined his hands in mine.
	It felt lovely for the moment it lasted.  Instantly, my mature
senses weighed in the detrimental consequences which would inevitably ensue
if I were to allow anything to happen.  I could tell Joey just wanted to be
closer to me as we talked; he wasn't trying to seduce me at this moment
because it was an emotional attachment, not just a physical lust.  Either
way in no way would I even contemplate the mere concept of meddling in a
situation that could potentially be wrongful towards my father.
	I rose by second nature. "Joey, I've got to talk to Dad for a
minute," I said firmly, but not without sympathy.  Seeing his perplexed
glance, I elaborated, "I've forgotten something."  It sounded lame, but
Joey had no reason to suspect anything.
	I found Dad sitting on the living room couch in a pensive, almost
meditative state.  I rushed to his side for emotional support, took his
face in my hands, and kissed him earnestly, our tongues separating
themselves from the earthly plane for a rather extended time given the
circumstances.  He looked taken back as we finished, and inquired, "Johnny,
what's going on?"
	"Did you know that I had liked Joey since the first day of freshman
year?" I asked quietly, looking at the ground.
	He laughed lightly. "Of course I did.  You may have though no one
could see, but with the attention I took to you in the showers I definitely
saw you try to hide your sexy hard-on as you drooled as you stared at him.
And I saw the same with him as he looked at you."
	I cynically laughed at the continuous irony. "You knew, but we
didn't," I said in shock. "Well we've just admitted it to each other.  He's
trying to make a move."
	Dad spoke immediately in paternal guidance. "And I completely wish
for you to take any path you wish with him.  We're going to be together
forever, and I want you to extricate your internal sexual desires from the
past."  I couldn't believe his words as I looked up to stare him dead in
the eye.  His firm visage didn't alter at all.
	"Are you sure, Dad?" I asked, mystified.
	"Yes - I would never stop you from fulfilling a teenage desire
you've had for so long," he explained wisely. "If this were a normal
relationship it'd be different, but it's not.  I am your soul mate and you
father.  I know what's best for you better than even you, and I want you to
have the best time you've always wanted with him."
	I nodded, more confused with his every word, but trusting his
words; he would never lie to me or mislead me with words he felt
uncomfortable stating for personal wishes.  With his blessing, I
objectively returned to my room, and even closer to Joey with motives that
now were most likely identical to his.  And truthfully, I couldn't wait,
even if it could never compare with Dad, because only he could be my God.
	As I suspected, our conversation turned into retrospective
nostalgia, cutting corners to illuminate aspects of ourselves and our
experiences.  And as we took a good twenty minutes in our helpful muse, it
became clear that we knew each other better than we thought.  Even if we
were never close personally we still had spent lots of time together on the
football team, several classes, and on the debate team.  We had discerned
each other adamantly throughout the years, and this warranted appreciation.
The knowledge we spoke resonated with us immediately, all the while
subtlety rubbing each other's knees, legs, and arms, or resting an "absent"
hand in a light massage on each other's chest.  We relaxed and became
comfortable this way, though we didn't show our excessive horniness through
this, simply appreciating the sweet moment.
	And then we were talking about our surprise at learning that
disrespect was not a verb as almost universally use in English class, and
the next we were primitively and magnetically pressing our bodies together
in lustful necessity, he landing on top of me as we slid up on the bed
while our hands fulfilled infinite wishes in rough caress over the other's
body.  It was much better than expected.  We kissed almost violently, our
tongues joining as we exasperated each other in an elated kiss.  As I knew
he wouldn't be better than Dad, I was able to enjoy a wonderful kiss even
if were from a mortal.
	We made out for some time, slowing undressing each other, and went
on to have wonderful sex.  I've decided not to illustrate our assignation
because this story is Dad's and mine, and I don't want to grant Joey the
same elaboration as the substance of my relationship with my godly father
receives. He is only mentioned to explain a bounding desire from the past
that was taken care of so we could progress - I can best explain his
character (though with means of absolute respect to a rarely remarkable
person) as a necessary evil I employed - An "object" so to speak, to use
once and destroy.



Author's Afterward: Originally this was going to be a three part story, but
due to my much too long delay, I've decided to just continue the story for
a currently undecided (though this will change with the next posting)
length of time.  I haven't had Internet access, and life's been highly
hectic.  However, I already have Part Four finished; it's quite a long
chapter, and highly erotic, lusty, loving, passionate, and just full of you
know what ...
	Unfortunately, I don't have it fully typed up yet, and only have
minutes here at the library.  I have a PC at home, but no Internet, so I
promise it'll be up TOMORROW.
  I hope you enjoyed this!  The next will be very explicit in its pleasure!
In fact, why not a preview:

` .....We lovinly sunk spiritually into each other's eyes, and then Dad
gently took me, his eternal companion, by the hand and walked us into the
master bedroom.  I took the initiative to close the door behind, and of
course the bedroom light was kept off, thereby creating a conventional
romantic setting ....'