Date: Mon, 01 Sep 2003 00:53:05 -0400
From: Pete Marenga <dom6789@hotmail.com>
Subject: Watching my Son - Chapter 4

Watching my Son - Chapter 4
by Pete Marenga
dom6789@hotmail.com   <---(Pete's email address)
________________________________________________________________

This story is gay and sexual and is between a father and a son.
You know if you're old enough or not to read this kind of thing,
and if you would like or not like it.  So get real, and read if
you like, or move on, if not.

WARNING:  EXIT this story if you're under legal age.
________________________________________________________________

Watching my Son - Chapter 4


    "Mmm, dad, that feels good," Kyle mumbled sleepily.
    ______


It was exciting to hear Kyle say that getting his rear-end rubbed
felt good to him.  My mind sped forward to anticipate a number of
wonderful conclusions I could come to, based on his encouraging,
positive response.

It was time to leave Kyle alone, and let him take his nap.  This
gave me the chance to take inventory, and see just where my head
was.  It occurred to me that I no longer felt sick--the reason I
had come home from work early, without which I may not have
discovered the joys of teaching my boy, hands-on, about sex.

My thirteen-year-old son, Kyle, and I had just climaxed together.
He seemed to be taking all of this in stride--so much so that I
had no choice but to think that he'd thought about this for a
long time.  I, on the other hand, hadn't had much time to probe
my own feelings about this new relationship with Kyle.  The
excitement of discovering Kyle's sexuality, and my letting things
happen had taken over my mind completely.

I looked at Kyle's angelic face as he slept, and concluded that
I'd been ignoring Kyle more than I cared to admit.  Not that I'd
been out of the loop with his achievements and responsibilities--
but up till now, I'd chosen not to see or admit his being an
outstanding example of a truly beautiful boy; that maybe I was
jealous of his looks.  I had simply not seen it--maybe chosen not
to see it.  In any case, I had missed the obvious.

But all that was behind me.  I now knew how beautiful Kyle was,
and even knew and acknowledged how sensual and enticingly sexual
my son could be.  All was right with the world, and my wonderful
thirteen-year-old boy was growing up, and would continue to be
the good person he always was.

I slipped out of bed, got some water, jumped into some old
shorts, then decided to have some coffee.  I occupied myself with
the newspaper, and the latest best-seller novel.  The hours
slipped away.  Eventually, I stopped reading and realized it was
time to get moving.

I thought I'd better wake Kyle.  If I let him nap too long, he
might have a difficult time sleeping tonight.  In any case, it
would be dinnertime soon.  As I strolled down the hallway, I saw
a strong light coming from Kyle's room.

I felt odd, finding Kyle in his room instead of mine, where we'd
both been, a few hours before.  I suddenly had a strange tension
in the pit of my stomach, seeing him in jeans and a t-shirt, and
knowing he was naked when I left him napping.  What made him get
dressed?  Why was he crying?  In my mild paranoia, I dreaded that
my son developed bad feelings about what we'd done together, and
had suddenly decided against me and sex, and rejected it all.

"Daddy, I'm sorry!" Kyle said through his tears, looking down at
some papers in his lap.  The poor boy was beside himself, sobbing
deeply.

"I lied!  I'm sorry I lied," he continued, with that pathetic
look on his face.  We stood a few feet from each other--
apparently both somewhat in shock.

"Ssshh, it's all right, Kyle," I said, trying with my eyes to
communicate calmness and open-mindedness, "Whatever it is, baby,
we'll work it out and it'll be ok."

"No, it won't.  I lied--I looked at sex pictures and talked about
them--and now you won't like me anymore!"

"Kyle, no.  That will never be true, even if you did something
horrible.  Whatever it is, you're MINE and I love you."

That seemed to stop Kyle in his tracks and made him stare deeply
into my eyes.  There was a questioning--a pleading there, then he
looked down at the floor.

I finally got it--he wanted to be held.  I rushed forward, almost
knocking him over as I pulled him into a hug.  My lips slid
across my boy's warm neck and found his sweet, slightly open
mouth.

Kyle basked in the kiss for quite a while, surprisingly bringing
his tongue playfully into the action, but mostly yielding to me,
exhaling in that secure breath of reassurance that he was safe
and could depend on me; that I would protect him and make things
right in his life.  He finally pushed away far enough to look at
me.  His eyes drilled into mine again.

"Dad--you really WON'T get mad!" my son said--startled as if he
made the discovery of the century.

"Glad you could feel it for yourself," I said very softly,
through a warm, approving smile.

"Oh, Daddy!" my boy said, as he hugged me.

Kyle lost just a bit of his bubbling youthful joy as he again
looked down at his papers.  "Josh's mother lets him see anything
he wants on the internet, so . . . and Josh likes boys, too and,
he's eleven--he'll be twelve soon.  He let me click on what I
wanted and he printed these for me."

"Whatever those are, it's ok.  Who's JOSH?" I asked.

"Josh--Joshua--you know, the sorta tall, skinny kid with the
blond hair like mine."

"The corner house?"

"Yeah."

"That kid's only ELEVEN?"

"He'll be TWELVE in a couple of months, dad!"

"Yes, how could I forget," I said facetiously, examining Kyle's
papers, which turned out to be three naked male photos, printed
from the net.  The models were beautiful and were evidently in
their early thirties.  The first pic showed the two men kissing.
The second, they were handling each other's dicks.  In the third
picture, the men were in a 69 position, sucking each other.  The
whole session looked like it was tastefully photographed.

"Daddy--I'm--"

"It's ok, Kyle.  These are beautiful.  Don't worry."

I looked up to see Kyle's wonderful smile of relief, and I hugged
him.

"You have good taste, Kyle--you should be proud that this turns
you on . . . I mean, excites you sexually."  At that point, Kyle
was fondling me through my thin shorts.

"You're better than they are, dad.  Do the guys in those pics
turn YOU on, too?"

"No.  You know what turns me on?" I said to my slightly
frightened, wide-eyed son.

"Not really, dad."

"YOU!"

"Huh?"

"Kyle--YOU turn me on!"

"Ohhh!"

"Kyle--now you get TICKLED for not getting it right away!"  I
lunged at my son, pushing him against the bed, then down on it,
and launched into a barrage of tickling.

Of course, Kyle was no match for me.  His thirteen-year-old
muscles were fine-looking and sensual for a boy his age, but they
lacked the strength needed to overcome me.  Soon, I had his
wrists pinned with one hand.  I asserted myself by forcefully
undoing his jeans with my free hand, and pulling them down to his
knees, along with his briefs.  I had exposed my son's nakedness.

The distinctly hurt look on Kyle's face told me I'd done wrong.
The rules were different now.  It was okay to bare him when it
was play time, but for me to just assume total control of his
body and strip him without his permission humiliated my beautiful
boy, who--as my heart realized with its pounding--deserved to be
treated more respectfully.

My jaw dropped in shame and regret.  My eyes showed my apology as
I gently slid his clothing back up into place, and fastened the
button of his jeans.

"Thanks, dad," Kyle said.  He sounded strongly surprised, but his
voice was very soft.

"I'm sorry, Kyle," I said sincerely.

"DAD!" Kyle shouted.

"Son--what's wrong?"

"No--nothing's wrong.  You never said 'I'm sorry,' before!  Not
to ME!"

"I love you, Kyle."

"I love you SO MUCH right now, dad.  You made me feel like a real
person!"

"Always!  I want you always to feel that.  I'm sorry it took so
long!"  Was it that bad for Kyle? I thought, have I been such a
blockhead that my son just now felt he'd had enough respect from
me to respect himself?  I had a lot of catching up to do for
Kyle's emotional well being, I could see that.

My boy smiled from ear to ear.  He followed my lead in standing.

"Come on," I said, slapping him on the buttocks, "we better go
eat!"

"Wait, dad.  What did you think of my bone?" Kyle asked in his
baby-boy, precocious way.  I noticed a slight blush on his face.

"Your bone made me drool," I said.  "That's why I pantsed you--I
wanted to see it.  It looked beautiful, like you.  Also, good
enough to suck on all night."

"What about now?" Kyle said, standing up straight, with his
erection bulging his jeans, "How does it look now?"

"Geezz!" I exclaimed.  "It's enough to make my knees weak."  I
saw the proud smile on Kyle's face.

But what impressed me was the bulge in my boy's pants--which were
greatly tented.  However he'd managed it, his cute little
thirteen-year-old penis looked like quite a club inside the
clothing.  I would have asked if he'd stuffed anything in his
pants, but I knew he hadn't.  I'd just had a good look inside
Kyle's underwear and had seen for myself.

"What do you think, dad?" Kyle asked, looking down at the bulged
material, obviously proud of himself.

"I think that's great--in the house.  But when we go out, you may
want to wear a jock so you don't embarrass yourself, boy."

"I won't embarrass myself," Kyle said, his expression turning
shy.  "So, dad," he said, suddenly sounding more confident,
turning his body in his tented jeans to show off his rock-solid
penis to its best advantage, "what does this make you want to
do?"

"I'll show you," I said, knowing that Kyle had just given me the
'Playtime' signal.

With his hands on his hips, Kyle stood patiently while I slowly
undid his clothing and exposed his hot little erection.

"Ohhh . . . yeah!"  Just having his penis out seemed to please
Kyle.

That reaction was nothing compared to his response when I kneeled
and took his incomparable young boner into my mouth.

"Yeah, yeah!  GOD, yeah!"

My young son's wiggling, throbbing erection was so incredibly hot
and delicious, I wanted to suck on him forever--but after a brief
moment, I stopped.

"No, dad--NO!  Keep GOING!"

"Sorry boy, I said," pulling his pants up for him.  "I told you
it's time to go eat," I added with a sadistic smile.

"Dad, PLEEEEASE?"

"No."

"Dad, no--I'm gonna die!"

"If you die now, I'm not paying for your funeral.  Let's go!"

----------------------------------

It was an interesting trip in the car on the way to the
restaurant.  Especially since Kyle apparently felt it was his
sonly duty to make me aware of how uncomfortable he was--riding
in the car, suffering with a persistent erection--and all because
I didn't let him have sexual release before departing for supper.
Of course I was enjoying every minute of his moaning and
complaining--especially his pubescent squirming, which I found
very arousing.

I decided that it would be best not to eat locally, but to drive
to Middletown, about 16 miles out.  I felt self-conscious now,
going out to eat with my son--with whom I'd just had sex.  I felt
as if this were more of a date, than a father taking his son to
dinner.  Somehow, I just couldn't face the neighbors, even though
they'd have no way of knowing what I was doing with my son, or my
feeling that this was a date with him--especially since Kyle was
well-adjusted to all that we did, and was more than a willing
participant.

My boy seemed oblivious to the route I was taking.  I supposed
that he had better things to notice or think about.

"Ahh!  You're such a mean dad!" Kyle said, through the strange
hissing sound he made.

A quick glance over to him, with his hand between his legs, told
me his problem had not abated.  I smiled.

"Sure," my beautiful boy said sarcastically, "you're happy to see
me suffer!"

"I know what your problem is, and I know what will help."

"Ok," Kyle said normally, secure in knowing that the last thing I
wanted was for him to have actual suffering.

"Just take it out, Kyle."

As Kyle reached for his zipper, he startled me with his laugh.  A
moment later, he shouted, "DANGGITT!"

"What's wrong boy?" I asked--feeling foolish because seconds ago
his laughter had told me all was well.

"Dad--it sounds so funny--I never thought I'd be sitting in the
car and hear you ask me to take my dick out!" Kyle said, with one
hand fishing inside his briefs to grasp his still-solid erection.

"I see what you mean.  I never thought I'd ask that either," I
said, "nor get the chance to watch you taking it out for me."

"You like to watch me, dad?"

"I could watch you all day and night, Kyle."

"Why?" he asked.  I sensed he knew the answer, but needed to
explore it further.

"Because I like you!!  Your extremely good-looking and very well
behaved!  You're my son, I like guys, more importantly, I love--"

"Are there other people who would wanna watch me?"

I gulped, but had to be truthful--I hoped without being brutal.
"Yes, Kyle, there are others who would watch you."

"Like who?"

"Other men who might be like me, for example--"

"What ages?"

"All ages would look at you, Kyle.  I suppose boys of any age,
from say, mostly your age, on up."

"And the men?"

"All ages, Kyle, really."  I wasn't going to question him about
why he was asking this, but my son had the most beautiful
blushing face I'd ever seen.

"What would they do?"

"Well, they would look at your face--you're very cute, Kyle--
especially when you blush so deeply."

"Would they look at me . . . down there?"

Now I was blushing.  "Yes, they would look down there, hoping to
see a bulge, a sign of your penis, there."

"Why?  Would they be afraid I didn't have one?" Kyle said,
laughing hysterically as only boys his age could.

"Nope."  I sensed he also knew this answer, but I wanted to play
along.  It couldn't hurt to give him the answer, regardless.
"When people look at you that way, they see beauty, and see you
as a sexual being--first from your face, then they look to see
what other sexy signs they can find.  Some of them will want to
touch you, or do some of the things we did, so you must be VERY
careful."

I could tell from Kyle's hesitation that he was taking all of
this in very seriously, yet it pleased him.

"Do you think I'm sexy, dad?"

"Yes, very sexy, Kyle."  My blush deepened.

"Hmm, let's see," my son said, as he leaned toward me and shifted
his weight.  I saw a new, animal-like glow in his sweet, boyish
eyes.

"No, don't, Kyle.  Come on, not here!"  My son was groping for my
zipper, while I was driving down the highway.

"Sorry, dad!" Kyle said mercilessly, "You have to DRIVE.  And I'm
gonna PLAY!"  Kyle said this with a mischievous grin, as his hot
little hand gasped my cock.  "Yeah, I guess I DO turn you on,
dad.  That's HARD!"

Soon my little imp had my erection out of my pants, and began
sucking me gently.  I had imagined perhaps someday a friend or
partner would suck me off while I was driving, but I never
imagined my son to be that partner.

"Mmm," Kyle said, vibrating my excited penis.  His throat relaxed
and he took a respectable portion of my length.  Soon, the loose
grip of his mouth and the subtle swing of his tongue had me
moaning for more.

"Oh, oh, Kyle!"

"You want me to keep going, dad?"

"Oh, yes, son.  That feels so good."

"Too bad!" Kyle announced, as he stopped his little blow job and
began to put things back in order.  Soon he was zipping me up.

"Mmmm, geez!" I moaned softly.

"See--you don't like it either, dad!"

"Oh, I don't mind it, really.  Adults have a lot more control
than boys."  I could see Kyle was not convinced.

----------------------------------

The waitress delivered our food, and we dug in heartily.
Fortunately, the tables were spaced well apart.  By keeping our
voices down, we could speak privately, even though we were
surrounded by others.

"So, anyway, are you hard, dad?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Well, I had a lot to think about--the driving, parking the car--
those are distractions."

"Oh," Kyle said, disappointed.

"Sorry."

"I'm still hard," Kyle said, his boyish smile returning.

I raised my eyebrows.  While I wasn't really surprised that Kyle
was hard, there was a certain excitement in knowing for sure,
surpassed by the fact that HE was telling me.

We ate quickly.  Our earlier sex play at home no doubt gave us
bigger appetites than usual.

"Say, dad?  Are there a lot of guys like us?  I mean like in
school, would I--"

"Kyle--I meant to tell you earlier, don't ever let anything
happen in school--no matter how willing you both are.  The
trouble you could get into will haunt you the rest of your life."

"No kidding, dad--that BAD?"

"Yes.  But this is not the time nor place for me to give you the
details.  Trust me, ok?"

"Ok."

Fortunately, the portions at this restaurant were big enough to
match our appetites, and it took a bit of time for us to clean
our plates.  I noticed Kyle looking in one direction, a bit more
consistently than seemed usual.

"Dad--you see that kid over there in the white jacket?"

"A boy of about 16?  Dark hair?"

"Yeah.  Don't stare at him.  Just watch," Kyle said coyly, "then
follow."  At that moment, my brave little son just stood up.

And there he was--my stunningly pretty, thirteen-year-old son,
Kyle--looking as innocent and pure as the driven snow--his dick
pointing downward and obviously hard--the knob end making an eye-
catching tent, poking out some distance down the leg of his
pants.

My heart pounded.  While Kyle made his way to the bathroom, the
sixteen-year-old stood, his eyes on Kyle.  It was clear to me
that the older boy was following Kyle to the bathroom.

After the unlikely pair disappeared, I slowly walked to the
bathroom, myself.  There was a long line of non-partitioned
urinals, with two boys (Kyle and the other boy) next to each
other, at one end.  Closest to Kyle's end of the row of urinals
was a stall--an end stall.  I went into it and locked myself in.

Pressing my head sideways against the tiled wall, I was able to
watch my son and his new friend, dicks and all, through the space
between the partition and the wall.  Kyle had his erection on
display.  The older boy, who was flushed red as a beet, had a
much larger hardon, and kept his eyes glued to Kyle's penis--
occasionally looking up at his face.  At first, they were tense,
but after a few moments, the boys began smiling at each other.

My heart jumped when the sixteen-year-old put his hand on my
son's dick.  But soon the two boys were slowly stroking each
other.  Kyle seemed more in control of himself, while the poor
sixteen year old was coming unglued--judging by the lad's moans
and ragged breaths.  Both boys looked quite innocent, and I
wouldn't be surprised if the older boy had little or no
experience.

Certainly, the older boy likely never expected his little partner
to pull him by the hand against the wall, and start sucking his
more developed, throbbing boycock.

The older boy let out a distinct, "Oh!" as his back hit the wall,
and Kyle went to his knees.  The handsome older lad's not-quite-
mature but deeper adolescent voice rang out sweetly in the tiled
bathroom--especially when Kyle sucked, then took his mouth off
the boy's surprised organ, and Kyle continued by stroking the
boy, much faster than they had been doing at the urinals.

My heart pounded at the prospect of some adult coming in and
catching the two of them, obviously engaged in some kind of
sexual contact.  I also had misgivings about seeing my sweet,
inexperienced son having mouth contact with another boy's penis.

I took a good look at the startled boy's face.  He was, to say
the least, quite good-looking, but he didn't look familiar--
probably didn't come from around here--at least not from our neck
of the woods.

Kyle suddenly stood, stuffed his boner into his pants, zipped up
and walked out of the bathroom.  I was stunned that Kyle had
brazenly stopped stroking the other boy, leaving him breathless,
to say the least.

I exited my stall moments later.  The crazed, glassy-eyed sixteen
year old stood, hypnotized in disbelief, his throbbing penis a
clear sign of his arousal, and his sweaty, distressed face--taken
together with his erection--clear evidence that the poor boy had
been taken to the edge of sexual glory and abandoned.  And my son
was the culprit.

My back was to the poor kid as I walked out of the bathroom and
glimpsed Kyle seated again at our booth.  I thought I heard the
boy in the bathroom moan, and wondered if I dare look back to see
if he'd jerked himself off, and gained the relief he so
conspicuously needed.

Never in my entire life would I have expected Kyle capable of
pulling off such a stunt, nor of the smug but delighted smile on
his face that greeted me as I returned from the bathroom and sat
down in our booth.

Fortunately, my jacket hid my erection--an advantage that Kyle
did not have.

"Holy shit," I said breathlessly.  I thought since what Kyle had
just done was rather adult, I could forgivably give him an adult
exclamation.

"What do ya think, dad?"

"VERY brave of you, son, but--that poor boy!" I said, my own cock
throbbing, and relating to the older kid's predicament.  I still
wondered if he'd gotten himself off.  I remembered reading
somewhere that sixteen-year-old boys were the least tolerant of
arousal without climax, and I ached for the boy, thinking of his
suffering.  I still also had a million questions as to how Kyle
had the imagination and courage to do all this.

Kyle put his hand to his mouth and gave me his totally charming,
little-boy giggle.  There was guilt in his gesture--he knew
exactly what I was talking about.  His enticingly childish
response was complete with blush.

"Dad--what I did, was it wrong?"

"No, Kyle.  Maybe not the kindest thing to do, but not exactly
wrong, under the circumstances, since the boy was willing to let
things happen with you.  Besides all that, what if you see him in
school, or in the neighborhood?"

"No, dad.  I seen them pull in.  They're from Georgia."

"You SAW them pull in," I corrected.  "Georgia is just across the
line, Kyle.  Go back in there, before he comes out, and tell him
you're sorry you got scared and left.  And don't touch each
other!"

"Ok, ok, dad," Kyle muttered, in typical kidspeak, as he arose,
making his way back to the bathroom.  I surreptitiously glanced
around to see if anyone was looking and thought my son was crazy,
with all these trips to the bathroom.

I was a nervous wreck waiting for Kyle to come out and rejoin me
at our booth.  I timed him--it was less than a minute, but seemed
an eternity.  I doodled with the place mat for a moment, and
decided to go in after them.

Kyle suddenly returned, sitting himself down with a smile.

"Well?" I asked.

"He gave me his phone number," Kyle said, looking at me with a
gleam in his eye.

"I see that smirk," I said, not sure that having the older boy's
phone number was good news.  "Did he get off?"

"Get off?  Oh, no, cum!  He didn't"

"The poor kid," I said out of pure sympathy.

"Can I call him?"

"Kyle, that would be dangerous."

"He said it was his own number--his parents had a separate line
for him--no one else would answer."

"Ok, Kyle, as long as I'm there with you, listening on an
extension."

"Deal!"

"And you say only what I tell you to say!"

"DEAL!" Kyle shouted.

"Good.  But, don't shout, son."

I wasn't sure how good this was.  First of all, I'd only
considered having Kyle to myself.  Then again, I thought it would
be best not to interfere with his normal sexual interaction with
other boys.  Then again, I was in a position to control it.  This
was happening all too soon.  My head was spinning.

"Are we gonna go now, dad?"

"Aren't you hard from what you did in there with that boy?"

"Yeah," Kyle said with his mischievous smile, as if I'd asked him
if it rained in the summer, "are you?"

"Maybe," I said, embarrassed to admit my condition.

"Are you ready to go?  I am." Kyle said anxiously.

"I need some coffee to relax with," I said, as I looked in the
distance and saw the red-faced, sweaty sixteen-year-old boy as he
exited the bathroom, holding his jacket in such a way as to
obscure the view of his fly.  The unnerved lad gave Kyle a weak,
exhausted-looking smile.  The boy's hair was even wet and
disheveled from the intense encounter with my overconfident,
unpredictable, testosterone-saturated son.  Kyle gave him a cute
grin.

I watched Kyle for a long time, and I eventually saw him staring
again.  I discreetly glanced in the direction he was looking and
saw the now bedraggled-looking older boy getting what looked to
be intense questioning from his parents as to what took him so
long in the bathroom.  The poor kid was blushing badly.  Kyle
seemed enthralled by it all.

"He better not look this way, or your toast, boy," I said to
Kyle, attempting to strike the fear of God into him.

"I AM?" Kyle said, apparently frightened.

"Yes," I said coldly, as if to emphasize the point.

"Well, they're getting ready to leave, and he never looked this
way, dad."

"That's a sign of a friend, Kyle--a real friend, especially if he
took the heat for what you did to him.  And what you did wasn't
very nice."

"Uh, oh!  Does this mean you're mad and gonna spank me?"

"Maybe.  Either that or the slurping thing."  I had no intentions
of truly spanking him, but his responses were so fresh and
intense, I loved pretending, just to provoke him.

"Huh?" Kyle said, apparently not recalling.

"You know--the slurping thing.  This!" I said, making the
slurping noise that I'd used earlier to vibrate his penis to such
excitement, he'd found it painful.

"Oh, no--not THAT!"  Kyle had instantly recognized the sound.

"Well, it's that or the paddle, son," I said, doing a rather good
job of keeping a straight face, while watching Kyle squirm in
fear.  At least I took it to be fear.

"Do I have to decide now?"

"No."

"Cool."

As we got up from our booth to leave the restaurant, Kyle did it
again.  His rampant thirteen-year-old erection made another
erotic display.  It was the kind of erection that, even through
clothing, looked so hard, that if you tapped it with a steel
pipe, the penis would be harder than the pipe.  Or else the pipe
would break.  I swear I heard the place get quieter.

The first thing I saw, as Kyle and I walked toward the exit, was
a pair of twin boys, about 15, who nearly dropped their forks,
staring and blushing at the bulge in my son's pants, as he passed
their table.  One nineteen-year-old blushed and slumped in his
seat.  Several men at scattered tables stared openly as well.

As I approached the exit door, I turned around just in time to
get a look at my thirteen-year-old boy--with his smiling,
innocent face--walking calm as you please with a full adolescent
erection.

What a sight he was--a very young, young man--a boy, really--his
penis popping real bone, and clearly shown against the fabric of
his pants.  And a down-pointing boner to boot.  Those were always
the most embarrassing.

I felt the blood rush into my face in sympathy for my son.

Kyle, however, seemed little bothered--though there was some
blush on him.  He seemed more proud of himself than ashamed.

In the car, I questioned him.  "Didn't that embarrass you?  You
had quite a huge tent in those pants, young man!"

"Yeah," he said with his little giggle.  Kyle's blush came on
full blast at this point.

"I see.  A little delayed reaction on your part, is that it?"

"I don't know.  I was scared in the restaurant.  Well, a little
anyway."

"Oh, I get it now.  That makes sense, Kyle.  Are you proud, too?"

"Yeah."

I wondered if I should tell him what a flirt and terrible tease
he was to that poor, unsuspecting teen boy.  My heart had gone
out to him.

Kyle seemed deep in thought.

My cock ached for release.  I decided I was too busy thinking
about what Kyle and I would do in bed.  A lecture on teasing and
flirting would have to wait.

"Are you hard?" Kyle asked, as he slid his hand over my bulge and
got the answer for himself.  "Yeah, you're hard."

"Never mind that," I said, doing my best to suppress the fiery
urges within me.  "Take YOUR dick out, Kyle.  Squeeze your precum
into your other hand, and let me lick it."

The rustling of clothing told me Kyle was obeying quickly.

"Mmm, delicious," I said, licking the heady nectar from my son's
little hand.  "Try it."

"Ok," Kyle responded adventurously.  "What's it taste like?"

"Like really sweet cream without the gummy taste, but with a
touch of salt."

"Mmmm.  You're right, it does taste like that."

"I wanna taste yours."

"When we get home."

----------------------------------

At home, we raced for the bedroom, stripping each other.  Soon,
we were in a sixty-nine, tasting each other's fast-flowing
precum.

My hand went to the cleavage between my son's tempting mounds,
and my fingers slid repeatedly across the tight opening they
found, there.  "That feels so smooth and hot, Kyle."

"Oh, yeah, dad.  Oh, yeah!"
______
---Like it so far?  Tell me, please.

dom6789@hotmail.com   <---(Pete's email address)