Date: Mon, 18 Sep 2006 09:08:18 -0700 (PDT)
From: PT Cruiser <ptdork@yahoo.com>
Subject: Sandwich Island - 1

This story is completely fictional. Any resemblance to real life situations
is clearly coincidental.

I previously wrote a story for this web site, and received great response.
I decided to write a larger more substantial story. In doing so I came up
with a book size story that I really liked, so I wanted to submit it by
chapters, and get people's feedback. I may work this story for a manuscript
to send to publishers. So feel free to contact me.

Warning: I will be submitting in sections by chapters. Not all chapters
will have graphic erotic content. This story does contain graphic language,
sex and situations throughout.

Chapter 1

I pulled into our turn around driveway after my long journey from the
college I was attending in Ohio. The house I grew up in stared straight
back at me as if it missed me in its empty bowels. It was a sight for sore
eyes and I relished the fact that I was back home and would be seeing my
dad again for the next couple of weeks. Between school, and all my
gymnastics training for the upcoming National competition, I new that I
needed a break of just rest and relaxation around the big estate my father,
and I called home.

We were a bit wealthy, what could I say. Dad was a professional football
player for a couple of years, and him and Mom took that money, and opened
some businesses that did well for them. Mom died from breast cancer just
before I turned six, and this house was my parent's dream home. Dad would
never let go it because there was so much of Mom in the house; it was like
we had her still there with us. We both missed her immensely, and even
though the house was too large for a couple of guys to live in, we both
knew we could never sell the house and move.

I grabbed one of my suitcases out of the trunk of my car, and made a
beeline towards the door. I couldn't wait to see my dad, it had been so
long since we had seen each other, and before my college days our
relationship was a deeply close one. Being in a school so far away from
home always made me miss him a little more than most 20-year-olds should
miss their father. But what could I say, we were a team.

I busted through the front door in anticipation that my dad would be
waiting for me in the entryway, but the entry way was empty.

"Anyone home?" I shouted out into the living room emptiness.

"Welcome home Jett!" Anne, my dad's live in companion shouted to me as she
came running into the room.

Dad started dating Anne about 7 years ago. She worked for him in his chain
of sporting stores, but they had the strangest relationship I had ever
seen. She moved in about 3 years ago, and even though they did the couple
thing for most social events, they slept in separate bedrooms, and really
seemed more like best friends than affectionate lovers.

"Hi Anne," I said as we embraced. "Is Dad home?"

"He's in his office, he knows your home, but he is on a really important
phone call and says to tell you he will be right out. Let me take that
bag. Do you need me to do your laundry?"

I smiled at Anne. "You are so good to me Anne, you are going to spoil me
rotten!"

Anne grabbed my bag, and went in the direction of the laundry room.

"Really important phone call?" I thought. He always was waiting for me at
the front door when I came home from school. It was like he couldn't wait
to plant that big hug and kiss on me the second I got here. My dad still
hugged me, and kissed me on the lips like I was a little boy. I am sure
most young men my age would protest, but when he did it, I actually enjoyed
it; and it made me feel like I had all the security in the world.

I quickly snuck down the back hall towards his office, and as I got closer
to the door I started to hear what he was saying on the phone. I wasn't one
to eavesdrop, but I couldn't imagine what could be so important that he
didn't greet me at the door?

"Jack, I think you should talk to him about it, he, for some reason, seems
to be able to talk to you about things like this better than me," I heard
my dad speak out.

"He's talking to Uncle Jack," I whispered to myself.

My Uncle Jack wasn't really my uncle. Dad and he were best friends from
college football. They both were big college football stars that went on to
play professional football. Dad went to the Jets and played for two years
on specialty teams, and as a back up running back. That is where I got the
name Jett. I actually like the name, but I was glad the Dolphins didn't
draft him.

Uncle Jack played tight end for the Giants for 7 years. He was the famous
"Jack Attack" that fans spewed over in the 1970s. I had seen films of him
playing, and he was an animal running over defensive players like they were
future road kill. The funny thing about him, for having such an animal like
attack on the football field, he was such a softy in real life. He, like
Dad was very successful in taking the money they made from professional
football, and turning many businesses into a success. Needless to say Uncle
Jack's success in business made us look like paupers, and believe me Dad
had millions of his own.

We all settled down in the New York suburbs, and even when Mom was around,
we were always one big family.

Uncle Jack was more like a second father to me. He would come with Dad to
all my football games in high school, and all my gymnastics meets. They
both would come visit me at school when ever they could, and by him being
more of a friend than an actual father, I could open up to him more, and
talk to him about all the things going on in my life.

"I agree with you totally on this. I think this will be the best thing we
can do for him!" My dad continued saying on the phone. "I got to go Jack,
Jett just got home, and you know how badly I want to see him!"

I decided that was my cue to leave, and get back to the living room. I
quietly rushed down the back hall, and into the main area of the house.
Before I could grab a seat on the sofa I heard my dad's voice ring out from
the other side of the main room.

"Jett! Come and give your dad a big hug!"

I turned, and a big smile came over my face. I missed the old lug, and I
actually always looked forward to the next time I would see him. He looked
so good with his salt and pepper hair and his well kept body. I could only
hope I looked that good when I got 50.

"Dad!" I shouted out as I walked towards him.

We embraced in the middle of the room and he squeezed me close into his
6-foot muscular body. I looked up at him and as usual he gave me a big kiss
on the lips. "I love you son," he whispered into my ear.

It felt so good to have him hold me, and I knew I was lucky to have such a
loving, and supportive father.

"So did you unpack your things?" Dad questioned.

"Anne grabbed my bag of clothes, and I think she is already washing my
things. I still have my computer and other junk to unpack!"

"Well come on I'll help you!"

As we went to unload my car, Dad apologized for not meeting me at the
door. I couldn't help but laugh inside. I mean I really was the most
important thing in the world to him.

He went on to explain how he had to talk to Uncle Jack about something, and
that later he wanted to talk to me about something also! My mind already
started racing in curiosity over what it could be.

I grabbed the box with my computer and books out of my trunk, and my dad
grabbed the other box with all my other odds and ends. We lugged the heavy
boxes into the house and up into my room!

I quickly dumped my box on the floor, and jumped into my bed and stretched
out. "There is no place like home," I sighed out in the comfort of my
bed. "Now if I could just figure out a way to click my heels to get here
whenever I wanted to!"

My dad chuckled out into the room. "That would be nice Jett! We could see a
lot more of each other that way."

I looked up at my ceiling and just started reminiscing about the past. It
was great when Mom was around. She was an ex-gymnast who just missed
qualifying for the Olympics. When Dad retired from football he opened up a
gymnastics club for her, and when I was with Mom she had me doing
gymnastics in her gym. Ironically when I was with Dad he had me playing
football. It was weird how the two played out. We were so close, and I
especially shared both of my parent's worlds. When Mom died Dad promised
her that he would continue my gymnastics, and my whole life revolved around
the two sports. For some reason I always felt Mom was with me every time I
was practicing or competing. It helped me keep her close to me in a way.

"You know Dad, I really miss being here with you like it used to be," I
spat out before he left my room.

"It has been really hard not having you around these past two years son.
Makes the house feel bare and lonely."

After Dad left I lay in bed thinking about the important thing he was
talking to Uncle Jack about? Was he going to marry Anne now, and he wanted
my blessing? No, he would never marry Anne; he never even sleeps with
her. He would never feel it was better for Uncle Jack to talk to me about
something that important. Before I knew it I dozed off.

I was at school in the weight room. Coach Billings came in, and told me to
get on the bench press for my chest workout.

Let's get this workout started," he shouted out to me. "You gymnastic wimps
need all the weight training you can get!"

I knew he was joking, he, and the head football coach had asked me to join
the football squad on several occasions. They wanted my blistering 4.35
40-yard speed on that field in several different ways, but the school was
paying for gymnastics, and they new I had a great chance to make the
Olympics.

"I will out bench any of you football wimps! Bring them on!" I laughed back
at him.

"You will out run them all, that is for sure!"

Coach took his usual spotting position behind the bench. I could see up his
shorts, and from where I was laying I could see he was going commando. His
fat hairy cock and huge hairy balls lay down his right short leg in plain
site for me to see!

"Quit staring at my cock, and let's get going, pussy boy!"

I immediately pushed the bar up off the stand, and when I brought it down
to my chest he put all his weight on it pinning me to the bench. He slowly
brought his lips to mine and smothered them over mine. He forced his tongue
into my mouth, and almost into my throat. I wanted to resist his attack,
but for some reason I was enjoying it as my cock started to grow in my
shorts!

He pulled off my lips and shouted, "Look at your fat cock grow! I love that
fat cock you have!"

We both pulled the bar off my chest, and I immediately groped his balls
through the leg of his shorts, which made him shouted out a glorious
moan. His cock was big and getting hard. As I looked at it, it slithered
out pre-cum down from it's slit. He pulled up his short leg and exposed his
entire tool as he lowered it to my face. In one thrust he shoved it into my
mouth, and down my throat.

"Jett! Jett!" rang out in the room.

"Hey Jett!" I heard as I quickly sat up in my bed.

"Jett are you ok?" I heard Dad ask as he peered in the door of my bedroom.

"Dad!" I shouted out! "Ummm...just a bad dream I guess!"

Dad looked down at my crotch for a second and then he said, "We are
supposed to meet your Uncle Jack for dinner in about an hour. I thought you
might want to have some time to shower and get ready.

"Oh! Thanks Dad!" I said as I looked down at my crotch to see what he was
looking at. My cock was hard as a rock sticking slightly out of the
waistband of my shorts.

Most guys would be embarrassed if they had been in my situation right now,
but my dad was cool. I had seen him hard many times, and he had seen me
that way. We always teased each other about our "piss hard-ons" in the
morning. I guess when your dad spent all his life in sports, and so did
you, you are used to being naked around other men in the locker rooms. We
both usually slept naked and walked around occasionally naked, in the
morning waking each other up, or grabbing a towel from the linen
closet. Modesty was in neither of our vocabularies.

He reminded me so much of Robert Conrad from the old "Wild, Wild West" TV
shows. I just had to admire him, and hope that I would be like him, as I
got older.

I hopped into my shower still fully hard. The water felt so good on my
sleepy body, and I wanted to grab my cock putting it through the regular
abuse I loved to put it through when I got the chance, but I just wasn't
sure what I was feeling. The dream kept repeating in my mind over and
over. It wasn't the first time I had dreamt about me, and Coach Billings,
fondling each other, but it was just as much frightening to me as it was a
turn on. "I'm not a fag!" Kept banging in my foggy head reassuring myself
of my sexual preference. I should be grossed out about a dream with coach
ramming his cock in my mouth, but I was confused on why I wasn't.

Coach Billings had befriended me in the fall of my freshmen year at college
after seeing me play intramural football. He was shocked at my speed and
abilities as a wide receiver, and wondered how the college had missed
recruiting me for football. I pretty much let him off the hook by informing
him that no college recruited me to play football. I was realistic about my
chances in college football. I was small, taking after my mother, topping
off at about 5' 8". I knew I couldn't play running back like in high
school, and as a defensive back; the large running backs would mow me
over. At age 17 I was the first alternate to the Olympics in gymnastics,
and in reality every college was after me in that sport. I needed to
continue in gymnastics to finish my dream, and my mother's dream, for me to
compete in the Olympics in gymnastics.

When coach Billings learned about my background he become really interested
in me, and he hooked up as my training coach for free. I told him my dad
would gladly pay him plenty to do it, but he was from the very beginning,
more than a friend. In a way it was scary to me because he was always kind
of too touchy with me. He was always putting his arm around me, or grabbing
me from behind pressing his body close to mine. He liked to wrestle me a
lot. I was sure it was all in fun, but at the same time I couldn't help but
feel that he wanted more.

When last year started, I started having dreams about him, dreams that took
us farther than friendship. I knew these dreams stemmed from the fact that
I thought he wanted me sexually, but at the same time they were confusing
me about my own sexuality. How could I dream that stuff? A dream like that
should totally gross me out?

I quickly rushed downstairs, and found my dad sitting in the bar with a
drink in his hand. As I looked at him from a distance, I could only think,
"God, he's a handsome man!"

"So what's the plan Dad?" I shouted out to him.

"Jett! I hope you got some rest." My dad blurted out. "I bet you were tired
from that long drive!"

"I sure did! It was great!"

Dad came up and gave me another hug and kiss. "You want a beer son?"

"Dad! Nationals are in 6 weeks, you don't want to tempt me now!"

We both laughed out loud.

"Well we are meeting your Uncle Jack at the restaurant," he explained. "We
both want to talk to you about something. I think you are going to like
what we have to say," he said as he lifted his right bushy eyebrow as he
only did when he was serious about something.

"All the suspense is killing me Dad! What gives?"

"In time! It is your Uncle's idea, and he needs to be there when we do all
the talking. God you have grown into such a handsome man!" he slipped in
with a big smile.

Dad washed the rest of his drink down the sink, and in no time we were
outside walking to his Mercedes. Summer had already hit full time, and the
night air was hot and humid pushing on my face.

As we drove in the car my dad started asking me about school and
gymnastics. I didn't have much to report since the last time we had talked.
Pretty much all the same things were happening.

"So how are you and Amber doing?" he slipped in.

Amber was one of the many girls I had gotten kind of serious with at
school. It broke my heart to have to tell him that we had broken up. I
wasn't sure how to approach the subject. I was sure he was hoping she was
the one for me. I couldn't help but feel pressure on myself to find someone
soon that was going to be more than another girlfriend. Finally I just
blurted it out, "We broke up!"

"Really? Already?"

"Well she just wasn't the right person."

"So there was no love there?" My dad asked stunning me.

"No, I guess not!"

"Well remember when you were about 5, and you asked your mom how old you
had to be to get married?"

"Yeah Dad! I remember it!"

"What did she say to you?"

"She said, someday I would fall madly in love with a person, and that every
day, all day, I would think of that person. She said when I found that
person, then I was old enough to get married!"

My eyes were filling with water from the memory. Remembering Mom was always
an emotional ordeal for me.

"That's right, but remember I ain't getting any younger, and would like a
grandchild some day," My dad teased.

My emotions took control of me as I whimpered, "Dad, I really miss Mom a
lot."

Dad put his hand over mine and said, "Me too son, me too."