The Preppy Meets Daddy's Meat

by Terry Gillin

He paused in sucking me to compliment me on the flavoring I'd dabbed on
my cock head.  ``It's peach,'' I told him proudly.  ``Wait till you get
to my asshole.  There it's cherry.''

``How wonderfully inappropriate,'' Burleigh murmured and returned to my
cock.  He sucked with a grace that could be attained only by the truly
wealthy and aristocratic.  I fancied that he'd been initiated by his
brothers when they first came back from Selwyn Prep, trained by a juicy
young stableman who'd serviced any number of discriminating masters,
including Burleigh's pater, and fine-tuned by a succession of wealthy
visitors to this family manor at Oyster Bay.

Lying naked between my legs on his parents' emperor-sized bed, he
radiated sexiness wherever his soft, smooth skin touched mine.  I knew
what people meant when they said they could eat someone up.  Now he was
holding my balls in the soft palm of his hand and licking them.
``Ooh,'' he exclaimed, ``is this grape?''

``Tutti-frutti, I think,'' but I was no longer able to think straight.

``My compliments to International Flavors and Flagrances,'' cooed
Burleigh.  And then I felt my lower ball sucked into his mouth, and I
was out of my fucking mind with pleasure.  ``Don't thrash about so
much,'' he warned me.  ``I don't want to nip you.  I've got to remember
this isn't a real piece of---tutti-frutti did you say?''  But my pelvis
was quite out of my control, and before I knew it I was squirting my
come into his golden hair.

He jumped up and ran, hard-on wagging, not to the bathroom but the
mirror.  ``Oh,'' he exclaimed ecstatically, ``it's like a coronet of
pearls.''

I loved him at moments like this.

He came back to the bed and curled up on top of me, his cheek against
my chest and his thigh across my solar plexus.  I gently stroked his
slim, elegant cock and the smooth balls that stuck out underneath his
thighs while I licked my come out of his hair.  ``You make me feel like
a kitten being washed by its mother,'' he said sleepily.  But his hips
were wide awake and rubbing against my dick, which was starting to get
interested again.  His cheek touching one of my nipples and his warm
breath on the other had caused both to become erect.

``I think I'm going to fuck you,'' I told him.

He yawned.  ``You're not sure?''

``It all depends.''

``On what, may I ask?''

``On whether you keep on teasing my peter with your cute buns.''

``Your `peter';  how nostalgic.''

``You're still doing it.''  My cock was painfully rigid again.  Yours
would be too with that precious butt stroking it.

``That means I want to be fucked.  But be gentle this time, Terry.
Don't just spit on your cock and ram it in.''

``I love it when that pretty mouth of yours talks dirty,'' I said.

``Fuck.  Shit.  Piss.''

``Ooh-h-h,'' I said, simulating orgasm.

``Uh---cunt.''

``Keep going.''

``Sorry.  That's all I know.''

``And you went to Selwyn?  And now a sophomore at Holyfield?''

He shrugged.  ``I think the pater keeps some lubricant in his
nightstand.''

``Get it.''

He scrambled across me as if I weren't animate and pulled open the
drawer.  He came back with a tube of something and, straddling my
thighs on his knees, spread the shiny, viscous stuff on my cock.  It
was cool at first but quickly became warm.  Then taking a fingerful, he
slid it in and out of his asshole, his lips parted in pleasure.

``That's good enough,'' I said.  ``You can stop now.''

He stuck his tongue out but tossed the tube onto the far reaches of the
bed and stood up, positioning himself directly above my cock.  He
lowered his body delicately, and when he was just above my cock head,
he took hold of my shaft to guide it, and I felt myself sliding into
him.  He grinned at the bliss I couldn't keep off my face and, balanced
on his springy young legs, moved up and down.  Finally it got to him as
well as to me, and he groaned in unison with me as he increased the
pace of impaling himself on me.

I used both hands on his cock, which was now so hard I knew he had to
shoot soon.  I went lighter on him till I could feel my own orgasm
rising again, and then I tightened my grip and pumped him mercilessly.
He screamed and shot a stream of white come all the way up to my face.
It splattered on my lips, nose, and closed eyelids.  I felt a second
volley land on my chest.

With my softening cock still inside him, he bent forward, and I could
feel him licking his come off my torso.  Then my cock slipped out of
him, as he leaned over my face and licked it too.

He was lying sprawled on me when the door opened and the elderly maid
came in.  ``Your folks is comin','' she panted.  ``Y'all get your asses
outa their room.''

Burleigh leaped up as if he were on a spring, and I leaped after him.
He grabbed her and planted a kiss on her plump cheek.  ``Could I harass
you sexually, Lily?'' he begged.

``No, you couldn't.''  The old lady slapped his butt as he bounded
toward the door.  Going out, I looked back.  She had just put the tube
in her pocket and was smoothing out the bedspread.

As we scampered past the railing overlooking the foyer and on down the
broad hallway to Burleigh's suite, I heard the front door open and the
click of suitcases on the marble floor.  That would be the chauffeur,
and the pater and mater wouldn't be far behind.

Giggling, Burleigh took a flying leap onto his own sizable bed. ``We'd
better get dressed,'' he said.  ``They'll be up here first thing.
After all, they haven't seen their dear boy in three months.''  He got
up and was rooting in a dresser drawer among a colorful assortment of
bikini underpants.

``Oh my God,'' I cried, ``my clothes are on the floor in your parents'
room.''

``Not to worry.  Lily'll take care of them.''  Out of a lower drawer he
took a pair of distressed pale denims with big rips around the knees
and thighs and much fraying along the fly.

``But what am {\it I\/} going to wear?  Can you picture me squeezed
into your pants?''

``I like the concept,'' he said, zipping himself snugly in.

I was getting panicky.  ``I'm bloody naked, you sodding little tart.''
I could hear the click of high heels on the marble staircase several
doors down the hall.

``Oh, I love it when you're scared shitless.''  Burleigh was now fully
dressed and looking virginal in his white shirt.

There was a light tap on the door.  I looked at him in terror.  He
kissed the air toward me.  ``Go have a bath,'' he suggested.

I rushed into his bathroom, closed the door as noiselessly as possible,
and stepped into the big, tiled shower stall.  I turned on the tap and
almost died.  The water was icy cold.  I turned it off and, my teeth
chattering, grabbed a big white towel and dried myself.  From the
bedroom I could hear Burleigh talking with his parents.  ``We were out
throwing the football.  We got rather dusty.  Terry's just finishing a
bath.  Terry.  Come out and meet the Aged Parents.''  (At school he
referred to them as the A&P.)

There was nothing to do but go out and face them.  I quickly combed my
flattened locks and, wrapping the towel around me as securely as I
could, opened the door.

How two people as tall as that could have a son as petite as Burleigh
was a mystery.  They both towered over me, and I'm 5 feet 11.  Okay,
I'm only 5 feet 10 in my bare feet.  With a gracious smile that not
only stripped the towel off me but also seemed to read my filthy mind,
the mater extended her hand.  It was thin-boned and cool, but it had a
grip that told me it could crush me if mater took a notion.

As for the pater, if you needed someone on a telly commercial to hoist
a champagne flute in front of a baronial fireplace, Central Casting
might send you this man.  He was white-haired and white-mustached,
craggy-faced, with pale blue eyes that twinkled benignly but distinctly
signaled, ``Don't come on innocent with me, you young sod.''  I felt
the same way I did when I was on the carpet before the ever-polite but
sadistic headmaster back at Selwyn.  I wondered how well these people
knew their son.  Probably pretty well, and if that was true, they sure
had me pegged.

But I'd played that game opposite adult authority too often and in
situations too desperate not to hang on to the wide-eyed schoolboy role
as long as it was a viable option.  Answering pater's probing
questions, I told him respectfully, assuming the voice of a younger
teenager, that yes, sir, I was playing football for Holyfield.  Yes,
sir, I did have the physique for swimming and in fact swam on the
college team.  He seemed hungry for that kind of information, and it
occurred to me that Burleigh might have been a minor disappointment to
him in the athletic line.  The pater, it turned out, had rowed for
Cambridge, a fact Burleigh had never bothered to tell me.

When they had left Burleigh asked me, ``What do you think?''

``I think I've been stripped and searched.''

``That's pretty close.''  He patted my cock head where it indented the
terry cloth.  ``Why don't you try on some of my brother's clothes?  You
might as well leave the towel here.''  He checked to see that the
hallway was clear, and then I followed him bare-assed down to Roger's
suite, where I found I fitted nicely into some brand new tattered duds
just like Burleigh's.  The sales price was still on them: $55 for these
rags.

Most of the weekend we'd been eating in the kitchen with Lily.  Now
everything was grand style, at a polished walnut table with candles and
silver in the large, high-ceilinged dining room.  The pater wore a blue
blazer and gray slacks, the mater a floor-length gown.  I assumed at
first they were dressed to go out for the evening, but no such thing.
This was their at-home dinner attire, and they lost no time chiding
Burleigh about his tatters.

``Why, I just bought these pants last week,'' said he calmly.

``Always speak the truth, Burleigh,'' said the mater sententiously.
``I saw patches.''

``I think I've still got the sales slip in my pocket.  Yes, here it
is.''  Burleigh obviously was used to thinking a move ahead of his A&P.

Bedtime came, and Burleigh advised me wryly that I'd better sleep in my
own room tonight.  His parents already suspected him of being what he
was.  My ``own'' room was actually Roger's room, and I hadn't slept in
it since I came here two days before.

So I was all alone until an hour or so after midnight, when I heard my
door open and someone enter.  I assumed it was Burleigh, and I was all
ready to say something salacious when the light on the desk went on and
I realized it was the pater.  He was wearing a loosely tied silk robe.
His legs were bare, and at the collar I could see several inches below
his chest, which was covered with white hairs.

``Hope I didn't wake you up, Terry,'' he said easily.  ``I was just
passing by and thought I'd drop in and bid you good night.''

Was he drunk?  Or was this a bed check?  I've found you can never tell
about parents, especially rich ones.  The rich ones can impose their
own version of reality on everyone around them.

He sat down on the edge of the bed and put one leg up on it.  This
pulled the lower half of the robe apart, and I could see most of his
left leg and thigh;  it was hairy but surprisingly muscular.  He seemed
to notice my bare shoulder for the first time.  ``You didn't bring
pajamas, Terry?''

``Uh, no, sir, I didn't.''

``Well,'' he declared expansively, ``we can take care of that.  You can
wear a pair of Roger's pajamas.''  He got up, opened three dresser
drawers, and found a pair.  Instead of handing them to me so I could
wriggle into them under the covers, he tossed them onto the end of the
bed, clearly expecting me to get up and fetch them.  And so I did, very
much conscious of his eyes on me.

``You have a nice athletic walk,'' he said as I padded around the other
side of the bed from him.  ``You tread like a panther.''  Or a cat on a
hot tin roof, I thought.

I knew from the college locker room that a macho guy doesn't try to
hide his nakedness from other machos.  They're not even supposed to be
aware of it.  And so, despite my instinct to stand so that he wouldn't
see my cock, I just stepped into the pajama bottoms while facing him.
For his part, he made no effort at all to disguise the fact that he was
staring at my body.  ``That's a good-looking cock,'' he remarked.

``Sir?''  I didn't know adults used the word {\it cock}.

``Your cock,'' he said.  ``It's a big one.  How long is it?''

I had gotten back in bed and demurely drawn the covers up to my chin.
``I don't know, sir.  I---I've never measured it.''

``Boys today have bigger cocks than they used to.  Don't you think
so?''

``Well, sir, I don't have anything to compare\dots{}.''  My sentence
dwindled off into confusion.

``Of course you don't.  But take me, for example.''  He whipped open
his robe to reveal his cock in full erection, red and rough with
surface veins.  ``I was considered above average in my time.  Let's see
how yours compares with mine.''

My face felt hot with embarrassment.  ``Sir, I don't think my, uh, cock
is, uh, erect.''  I hugged the covers to my chest.

``We can take care of that,'' he said in a businesslike manner.  ``Get
out of bed.''  It sounded like an order, and I obeyed.  ``Drop your
pants.''  I slipped out of the bottoms and stood before him.

``Get out of that top.''  He seemed slightly irritated.  ``I can't see
with that fucking top on.''  I took it off, and immediately his eyes
went all over me.  ``Now.''  Without the slightest hesitation he took
my penis in both hands and stroked it.  I couldn't help it.  He was
turning me on.  In five seconds my cock was as rigid as his.

He moved in on me, holding our two cocks together.  I was beginning to
pant a little.  ``See?'' he said triumphantly, ``you've got a good inch
on me.  Ah, you young kids pack a lot of muscle down there.''  But he
wasn't letting go of me.  He was slowly jacking me off, and I'd lost
any will to resist him.

He turned me around so that my back was against his chest, and with his
left hand he continued to pump my straining cock, while with the other
he reached under my balls and began to finger-fuck me.  I tightened my
sphincter to squeeze the long finger that slid in and out of me.

He must have sensed that he had me completely in his power, for he now
boldly threw me onto the bed on my back, climbed up between my thighs
on his knees, lifted my legs over his shoulders, and smiled down at me
as he leisurely lubricated his cock and spread the same ointment on my
pucker.  I closed my eyes and felt the tip of his cock touch me there.
It began to penetrate me with exquisite slowness.  In this position I
could not move, I could only acquiesce.  He pushed, my sphincter
relaxed, and the head of his cock powered through the narrow entrance
and was fully inside me.  Then I felt his shaft sliding slowly through
the same entrance and filling the passage up into me.

As he fucked me, he murmured (almost as if to himself), ``I have always
wanted to fuck a fresh, young college swimmer with a long, strong,
muscular, hairless body.  What lovely pectorals you have, my boy'' (he
was stroking my hard tits in a slow rotary motion), ``what lovely, firm
stomach muscles'' (as his fingertips slid over my midriff), ``what a
lovely belly button'' (poking his middle finger into my navel), ``what
a lovely mass of pubic hair'' (gripping it between his knuckles as his
hand brushed my cock), ``and this magnificent organ.''  Taking it, he
rubbed its underside against his belly, and I felt my orgasm mounting
in me.  Holding it in his left hand, with his right he reached me and
stroked my crotch behind my balls.

That did it for me.  My come shot all the way up to his chin, and as
his underbelly slapped against my ass with each thrust in fucking me, I
dreamily watched my come trickle down his thin chest.  He took my limp
right hand, brought it up to his chest so that it wiped up my juice,
and then he put my fingers in his mouth and tongued them clean.  The
last pearls of my come had oozed out onto my belly, and he scooped
these up and gave them to me to lick.  Lord help me, they tasted of
cherry.

Completely relaxed, I began to doze.  I dimly felt his cock slip out of
me and my butt descend to the bed.  I believe he kissed me on the
forehead, but I had drifted into a deep sleep.

When I awoke to broad sunshine streaming through the leaded windows, I
was lying under covers up to my chin, and I was again in the borrowed
pajamas, every button fastened.  I guess the pater was inflexibly fussy
about what people wore even in bed.

I padded down the hall to Burleigh's suite, knocked perfunctorily, and
went in.  Half awake, he lay sprawled on top of his covers.  He was in
pajamas too, something I'd never seen him wear at school.  I crawled on
top of him, kissed him, and felt our two cocks fill and heat up.

Sleepily we reversed our positions, burrowed our faces into each
other's flies, and sucked each other's still eager cocks.

By some unspoken understanding, we both arrived downstairs for
breakfast in tweeds and cashmeres, and though Lily did a double take,
the A&P smiled their affectionate approval.