Date: Fri, 10 Jul 2020 18:06:32 +0200 From: Kim Pescher Subject: Naked With Ethan At a Motel This story is pure fiction. Enjoy! Support the Nifty Archive if you can to help the site stay up and running. Can you get naked with your son's best friend? Well, if you're drunk and away from home you can. Naked With Ethan At a Motel "Thanks for doing this, Mr. Johnson," Ethan said in his scratchy, recently broken voice. At 14 he still sounded a little like a boy, though only just. "No problem, buddy," I said. I'd agreed to take him to his grandmother's house. It was supposed to be a trip for both him and my son with a lot of fun stops on the way, but at the last minute Sam had fallen ill, and now it was just Ethan and me, not what I'd hoped for, but Ethan was a good kid and this was the only way he could go. We listened to music and talked a little until we got to the planned stop. The motel was half empty and we easily got a room. "Here's your key, Mr. Johnson," the woman behind the desk said. "If you and your son are looking for a place to eat I can recommend the place across the street." I didn't correct her about the son thing. Seemed easier that way. Ethan didn't say anything, either. "In the mood for seafood?" I asked as we dumped our bags in the room. "Can we have pizza instead?" Ethan asked. I laughed. No surprise there. Ethan always wanted pizza if given the choice. I'd known him since he was 5, and he'd always been that way. "We can order in, but it'll be a bit of a wait," I said. "No problem," he said, turning on the TV. He wolfed down a slice of pizza in seconds when it got there. 14-year-olds are bottomless. "Should have gotten some drinks, too," he said. I handed him some money. "Here, you go." He took the money and bounded out of the room with his usual energy. When he returned, he handed me a six-pack of beer and opened a coke for himself. Don't get me wrong, I like a beer, but I don't drink that often, and I was a little surprised. "My dad usually likes a beer," he explained. "I know, but... They let you buy these?" I asked. He grinned. "It was a machine." I shrugged. One couldn't hurt. Pizza and beer go well together. "Can I have one?" he asked innocently after a while. "Forget it," I said. "Your mom would kill me." "I've had one before," he said, like it made any difference. "Half of one?" I sighed. "Alright, half," I said, handing him one. He's almost a man, after all, a bit more developed than my skinny son, and almost as tall as me. Half a beer wouldn't kill him. "Yeah!" he said, eagerly grabbing it. He opened it and took a large gulp, making a slight face. "You like it?" I asked, trying to keep a straight face. "Sorta," he admitted, taking a new gulp. At least he was honest. We watched a pretty boring game on TV and ate the pizza. It was nice. He'd always been a nice kid, and it wasn't too awkward that Sam wasn't there. I pretended not to notice that he'd finished the beer. "Here," I said, handing him the last slice. "Thanks," he said, biting into it. I opened a second beer and he looked at me with huge, blue, puppy dog eyes. "No way," I said. "Aw, come on, Mr. Johnson, you're usually so cool," he whined. "That's not going to work, buddy," I said. "I'm not a kid," he said. "I know that," I laughed. "But..." "Look!" he said, pointing to the screen where an ad tried to convince you that beer and sports went together. "That guy's saying it's great and he should know, he's an expert." "Half of one," I said. He grinned at me with the 'you're-too-easy' look I know so well from both him and Sam. I ignored it and handed him the can. Two cans in, I started feeling relaxed and a little lazy. I was in the only chair and he was on the double bed. I said nothing when he reached for the third can, both of us opening one at the same time. "We'll be out of beer soon," he remarked after a while. "Their number 7 is shitty. I could do better than that." "Yeah, he sucks," I said. "I'll go." "It's just round the corner." When I came back with a new six-pack, he'd taken off his socks. His t-shirt rode up, revealing his flat, hard stomach. It was homely in a good way. "They called a time-out," he said. It felt a lot like hanging with an old friend, as long as I forgot that I'd known him since he was five. I put the beers down, leaned back in the chair and drained my old can, letting him take a new one and open it. "Cheers," he said. The game was pretty uneventful and wound down with a whimper. "Well, that was a waste of time," Ethan said, crushing a can in his hand. "Anything else on?" We surfed the channels and landed on an old sitcom. "She's hot," he said when the lead came on the screen. "Yeah, she is," I agreed. We shared a look of understanding. Male bonding. "Looks like a marathon," he said when one episode turned into another. "Yeah." I grabbed a new can and threw the last one to him. I was getting pretty buzzed and I can only imagine he was, too. "Hee hee hee," he laughed, sounded really drunk. "Yeah, that's funny," I agreed. "Can't believe I never watched this before." "I'll go this time," he said suddenly, getting off the bed and taking some money off the table. "Wait!" I said, but he'd already padded out the door on bare feet. "I think we're the only people in this whole place," he said when he came back. "There's only a light on in the main building." "Not a busy time of year," I said. "Give me one of those." He threw me one and took one for himself. We opened them and clinked cans before drinking. "This is so cool," he said, lying back down on the bed. "Why are they in a hospital?" "No idea, I haven't been following very closely," I said. "Nah, it's boring," he agreed. "Wanna go outside? There's like a yard out there." He got off the bed and pulled back the curtain to open a door. Outside the sun was setting. It was patchy grass and woodland in the distance. "OK," I said, following him. Rather than get my socks dirty I took them off. "Cool chairs," he said sarcastically. The chairs were faded plastic ones covered in dust, but they faced the open land. "Afraid to get your pants dirty?" I said, teasing him. "No, my shirt," he said. "This is new." "So wipe down the chair with -" I began, but he ignored me and whipped his shirt off, throwing it through the door onto the bed. "What?" he asked, smirking, raising the beer to his mouth. I shrugged. "That works, I guess." He laughed. "You should try it. Feels pretty good." He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes, allowing the last rays of the sun to warm him. "Alright," I said. Why not? I took off my t-shirt and put it over a wooden fence next to us. There was a bit of a breeze, but the air was still warm. "Cool," he said, smiling at me. I put my arms behind my head and sighed happily. "I can't believe you're 50, you look good for 50," he said cheekily. "In shape." "Fuck off, I'm 38," I said. He giggled. "I think I'm drunk," he said. "Yeah," I agreed. He padded off into the room and returned with a new beer for both of us. "Whoa," I laughed when I saw he was down to his boxer briefs. "Actually my jeans are new as well," he said. "Do you mind?" "I've seen you in a lot less," I joked, although that was years ago when he was really young. He nodded and giggled. "You're not a kid anymore, are you," I said, looking him over slowly. He was almost as tall as me, and he had reasonably broad shoulders, nice muscles even though he was thin, and all the running he and Sam did at soccer was having an effect on his long legs. "No," he said. "You finally got those washboard abs you keep talking about, I see," I laughed. "Heh, yeah," he said, running a hand over them. "Got a girlfriend yet?" I asked. I knew he'd been sniffing around a few girls. "No," he said sadly. He got up and pulled a half-ruined, three-legged plastic chair closer so he could rest his feet on it. "Ah," he said happily, running a hand through his dark hair. He had hair under his arms, just a little bit. My phone rang. It was Sam. "You alright, buddy?" I asked. "Hi, Dad!" he said. "Yeah, I'm fine. Not feeling too good, but I'll be fine. Are you still driving?" "No, we're in the motel," I said. "Just hanging." Ethan opened an eye and smirked. Almost demonstratively he sipped from his beer. "Yeah, he's fine," I said. "Wanna say hi?" I handed the phone over. "What's up?" Ethan said, curling his toes lazily. "That sucks, man. Nah, he's cool. Just been watching some old crap on the TV." I leaned back and drank some beer. It really was a nice evening. "She did what?!" he said, sitting up. "No way!" They kept talking in excited voices while I finished my beer. Finally Ethan handed it back over and I said goodbye and hung up. "You should join me," Ethan suggested, gesturing at himself, slightly spilling his beer. "This is really nice." I considered it. "No one around, like, at all," he said. "Come on, Mr. Johnson!" I laughed. "Why not?" I said, probably the beer talking. I took off my jeans and put them next to my shirt. Actually it was pretty nice. It was getting a little darker but still warm. "Yeah, cool," he said. He held out his hand, and we bumped fists while he giggled. I emptied my beer. "I'll get it," he offered, talking the can and getting new ones from inside. He came back out and handed me mine, almost stumbling. "Whoa," he giggled. In the process he all but thrust his groin in my face. "Hey, now," I said, grabbing his hips to hold him upright. "Maybe you shouldn't have that last one." "Fuck that," he said, falling down in his chair. "Language," I said, but he just laughed. "You're really, really not a kid anymore, are you?" I said, popping the can open. The close-up view of his underwear had driven that point home. Those briefs had looked pretty packed. "Oh, that," he said. "No." He grabbed himself through the fabric. "I do alright." "Looks like it," I said. "So do you," he said, looking over. "Mrs. Johnson must be very happy." "She's never complained before," I said. With a dirty laugh he clinked his beer against mine. "Like the way your hair goes up your stomach," he said after a few moment's silence. "Looks really fucking cool on a dude." "It's called a treasure trail," I said, fingering it. I'm not particularly hairy, but I do have a little. Looking over, I could tell he didn't have any. "No hair yet?" I teased. "Fuck off!" he said, pushing his briefs down to expose a nice bush. "Whoa!" I said, covering my eyes with a huge grin. "Buddy! Just teasing!" He laughed. "You know what," he said. "I was pretty proud of my bush there for a while, until everybody got them." He looked over with a funny expression in his face, like he couldn't believe he'd just said that. "I know what you mean," I said. "I was pretty much the same. Except Jason Bludorff who got hair first. All over his balls." "On his balls?" Ethan asked, looking surprised. "Well, yeah, most men get that eventually," I said. "I mean, I do." "Oh," he said. "I don't have that. Mine are pretty smooth, but they're as big as my dad's." "You've seen your dad's?" I asked. He nodded. "Yeah, at the pool. He's not as cool as you but he's alright." He drank from his beer, sneaking a hand down his underwear. It looked more like a habit than anything else. "Here, there's room," he said, moving the broken chair with his foot, and I put my feet up as well next to his. Although it was pretty dark now there was still light enough to see him clearly. "How big are you?" he asked suddenly, staring at my crotch. "Uh..." I said, wondering how drunk he really was. We didn't usually talk like this at all. He laughed silently, his teeth white in the darkness. "I won't tell anyone, not even Sam." I slapped his head lightly, making him giggle. "What the hell," I said. "Around 7 inches. You?" "Wow!" he said. "Not bad, Mr. Johnson!" "Thanks." He scratched his hard stomach. "Uh... I was 6 and a half when I measured it last." "Cool," I said. "Actually it's been 6 and a half for a while," he admitted. "Yeah, you're probably fully grown by now," I said. He was more man than boy in most ways, after all. "Yeah," he said. "Hey, what's that?" In the distance there was some kind of motor noise. He sat up and then got off the chair and walked over to the tall wooden fence, resting his arms on it and looking into the darkness. "See anything?" I asked, walking over to stand next to him. "Nah," he said, smiling at me. "I think it was a motor cycle or something." "Probably," I agreed. He put an arm around my shoulder. We were almost the same height. I put an arm around him as well. Seemed natural. "This is so cool," he breathed, smelling slightly of beer. "I've never been naked outside before." I laughed. "Me neither, I guess. Except we're not naked, are we?" He looked at me, his dark blue eyes looking happy. Then he quickly pushed his briefs down and stepped out of them, throwing them carelessly over his shoulder at the chairs. "There," he said, his voice vibrating with excitement. "Ethan!" I whispered intensely, surprised. "We shouldn't - I mean, this is not..." I couldn't even see anything because he was so close, but... "Fuck," he groaned. "I can feel the wind on my dick, man." "Yeah?" I asked. "How's it feel?" "Awesome," he said, putting his arm around me again. "Try it." I took a deep breath. It was one thing to talk about adult stuff, but I'd never been naked with this kid before, not ever. Then I realized I didn't give a shit. "Yeah," he whispered, excited, as I stripped. Then he pulled me close with an arm, and I put mine around him as well, and we stood there, naked bodies touching from knee to shoulder, and looked into the dark evening. "Fuck," I groaned. "The wind is really nice." "Yeah," he agreed. "Feel it on your dick?" "Yeah," I sighed. "And on my balls." "I know, awesome," he said. After a little while he slapped my ass, the punk. "My beer's probably getting warm," he said, ducking out of my reach with a laugh. We sat down again. He looked at me, curious, and I let him. Why be coy now? I looked at him, too. "God," I said. "You don't look 14. You look 16 at least." "Thanks," he said, looking deeply pleased. He spread his legs, letting me see his equipment. Honestly, it looked like a grown man's, even though the rest of his body was still a little too skinny to pass for a man's. "Yours is awesome." "Thanks," I laughed. We sat there drinking our beer for a little while, just enjoying the moment. "Can you move your dick?" he asked. "I wanna see what hairy balls look like." "K," I agreed, doing as he asked, spreading my legs a bit. "Coooool...!" he said, looking at them. "Wow, your nuts are, like, huge, Mr. Johnson!" Then he surprised me by reaching out and touching them. That's when I should have stopped things, but I didn't, I just let him feel them, and then he leaned back and the moment had passed. "Awesome," he said. "Mine are all smooth. Look." He spread his legs and lifted his tool, presenting his balls for my inspection. They really did look totally hairless. I shook my head. "Shit, I can't believe it," I said. "Your balls are like a grown man's!" "Heh, yeah," he said, pleased. "Feel them." "No, no need," I laughed. "Come on, man," he laughed. "I touched yours!" He grabbed me by the wrist. "Alright, alright," I said. Careful not to be rough, I touched them. They were smooth and warm. "Hn," he said, a strange sound. We sat back down and drained our beers. "Do you think the receptionist was hot?" he asked, eyes closed, arms behind his head. "No," I said. "Nah, me neither," he agreed. "But I saw her daughter when I got the beer. Least I think it was her daughter." "Hot?" I asked. "Fuck, yeah," he said. "More than doable." "How old was she?" He paused. "Like... 18?" he said. "Not bad," I said. He grinned, still with his eyes closed. "Fuck, she had nice tits," he said. "Fuck, sorry, I mean breasts, I mean, sorry, fuck, sorry!" "Relax," I said. "I think we'll save polite language for tomorrow." "Whew," he said. "I think I may have said fuck before a few times already." "Yeah." "She wasn't wearing a bra, I'm pretty sure," he continued. "Give you the look?" I asked, intrigued. "Nah," he said. "She was too far away. Still." "Yeah." "Gawd, I'd like to fuck her," he said intensely. Apparently the beer had really loosened his tongue, and all the thoughts of a typical, hormonal 14-year-old were spilling out. "I know," I said. Yeah, I was married but I still sometimes had thoughts like that. Who wouldn't? "Shit," he giggled, opening his eyes. He looked pretty drunk. "I'm getting a fucking hardon." "Ethan, we -" "In front of my best friend's dad," he said, sounding like he was about to laugh. "Fuck!" He really was, too. Both of us looked, and yes, his dick was more than half hard already, lying over his thigh. I didn't know what to say, and while we watched in silence it rose to full size, towering between his legs, bobbing with his heartbeat. "I can't believe this," he said, making no effort to cover himself up. Neither could I. He had a real man's erection, he really did. It was as big as mine, or just about, and I thought of him as a kid - or at least I had until tonight. "That's... pretty impressive," I said. He looked over with wide open eyes. "Really?" he breathed. "Fuck, yeah," I said. "Like I said, not a kid anymore." He laughed. "Thanks, Mr. Johnson," he said. "You're the coolest!" He grabbed himself around the root with his left hand, making a strangled sigh. "Whoa," he whispered, looking at me sideways. "You're getting a boner, too!" I groaned. I'd been trying to hold back, but ever since his talk about the daughter and the sexual charge in the air I'd been struggling. "Awesome!" he said, looking over with wide eyes, still holding his own. "Look at that monster!" "Fuck," I sighed, letting go. I wasn't winning that one, anyway. "Shit, look how fat it is," he said, watching avidly. "Fuck, that's big, man." "Aw," I groaned as it rose off my stomach, standing up. It felt unbelievable to let go. It grew totally hard in no time at all. "Yeah, look at us," he said gleefully, holding up his shaft so he could compare them. "You're pretty much as big as me," I said. "Not as thick," he said. "Yeah, you are," I said. "Look." "Yeah, maybe," he said, looking intensely. "Fuck, I am!" "Yeah, stud," I said. "Not bad!" "Yeah," he said, bumping my fist. "Fuck, yeah!" He squeezed his, still just at the root, and a drop of clear liquid ran down the shaft. "You look pretty horny," I said with a laugh. "Aw, yeah," he groaned. "So horny, man..." We sat in silence, looking at each other and breathing heavily. "I can't believe that's the dick that made Sam," he said finally. We both broke down in giggles. Yeah, we were both pretty drunk. "Can we jack off, please, Mr. Johnson?" he asked. "I really have to..." "Yeah," I said. I didn't think either of us would ever get rid of our boners any other way, and besides, I was thinking with my dick. "Go slow, better that way." "I'll try," he said. Both of us started to move our fists with heavy breathing and the occasional laughter when he looked at each other. He was pretty curious about my technique, which is pretty standard, I think. "This is soooo cool," he said. "Just a couple of guys..." "Yeah," I agreed. "Just having fun..." "Ngh," he groaned. "L-love the way your... your balls move..." "So do yours," I pointed out. "Do they?" he said eagerly, trying to see. It broke his rhythm, but yes, he was yanking the sack gently as he did it to himself, a lot like I did. "They look fucking huge," I said honestly. I couldn't get over the fact that the small kid, my son's best friend since forever, had grown adult cojones. He smiled widely. He loved hearing that. He moved his chair closer to mine, as close as it could go, and sat back down. "Wanna see," he mumbled. He put his feet back on the third chair, and so did I. Even his feet were the same size as mine. "You're a fucking grown man," I said with a laugh, putting my arm around him and squeezing him, letting my dick alone for a moment. "Yeah," he said, doing the same to me. "I'm not a kid." "No," I said. "You're a real man now." "Yeah," he breathed. Both our poles stood straight up, hard, straining. He smelled of clean sweat, and I'm sure I did as well. "Look at that," I whispered. "Yeah," he whined. "Aw, man, we're both so horny...!" "Yeah," I said. He tightened his arm around me. "Both real men, eh?" "Both men," I agreed. "Look, we're the same size." "Yeah, fuck, yeah," he groaned, precome running down his shaft. "Just some buds who're fucking hard..." He let go of my shoulder and folded his fingers around my shaft without asking. I'll admit, for a moment it sobered me up despite the beer and the hormones, but then my brain registered how it felt, and I groaned and let him. "Ah, fuck," he sighed, his breath ghosting over his face. "Feels so fucking awesome. You're fucking thick like a bull, Mr. Johnson..." "Closer to the head," I groaned. "Aw, that's fucking great, buddy." He grinned and jerked me slowly. The feeling of someone else's hand on my shaft, someone not me or my wife, was so weird, so hot, that it was blowing my mind. He'd obviously done this to himself a lot, but doing it to someone else is different and a little awkward, but that just made it feel even better. "Like steel under the skin," he mumbled. "Fuck, I'm jerking you off..." I reached for him, not out of duty but because I suddenly really wanted to. It came in very handy that he was a lefty and I was a righty. It fit perfectly. I caught his erection and tried to do what felt good on me. "Aw, Gawwwd!" he groaned, his hand slowing down on me. "Yeah, fuck, that feels..." Then he started back up on me, and we jacked each other off slowly, both of us fighting to breathe through a fog of hormones. For a while there was no sound except for our breathing. "You wanna - you think - can we just shoot?" he gasped, his raspy, teenage voice unsteady. I could still just about remember what it had sounded like before it broke six months ago. "N-nothing to mess up," I gasped. "We're outside. Nhh. Go - go for it, buddy." He sped up, but of us getting closer. This would be a fucking huge one. *beep* *beep* His phone buzzed, and he reached for it without pausing like a typical Gen Z kid. "It's Sam!" he gasped, half laughing. "He, aw, he - he wants to -" "I don't fucking care," I groaned. "You're killing me here!" He laughed breathily, thumb zooming over the screen. "Look," he said, showing me the screen. 'jst hangin w yr dad havin loadsa fn' it said. He hit send. "You're crazy," I laughed. "It's true," he said. "Yeah," I admitted. He put the phone down on his briefs on the ground and we started up again. Both of us were pretty close still. "Feels so awesome," he whispered. As we sped up the noise grew. Anyone walking past would be able to hear, but I knew we were alone, and I couldn't care less just then, anyway. *beep* *beep* "Fucking thing!" I growled. "Don't you dare!" He giggled and swiped over the screen. "He wants to know what we're doing," he said. He typed something and hit send, putting the phone down. "No jokes?" I asked. "Really need to come," he said. "Fuck, my balls are..." "I know," I said. "No stopping this time. Agreed?" "Yeah," he said solemnly. "Agreed." He kept his word. His fingers tightened around me. It took a few moments to get back into the rhythm, but then we hit it perfectly, every tug he gave me sending a zing of pleasure though me and pushing me closer to my climax, while his desperate whining told me I was doing it right for him as well. "Oh, fuck, fuck," he groaned, edging closer. I sped up and he whined something, and then he stopped jerking me, his dick growing even harder, and I knew from myself what to expect. I kept going, gently, the way I liked it myself. "Fuuuck!" he groaned desperately, both of us staring at his hard shaft and my hand going slow, and then a white spray of sperm shot out over his tight, muscled stomach, and then another, far larger, hitting his chin and dribbling down his chest, and then another and another, raining down him, and then a few, smaller ones that landed in his bush, and then, finally, it was over. "Shit," I said. "That was fucking impressive, buddy!" "Really?" he said, opening his eyes. They were happy and sated. "Yeah," I said. "Really hosed yourself down, there." "I usually shoot a lot," he said, a note of pride in his voice. "Yeah, like a fucking man," I said. He laughed, looking delighted, and then started jerking me off again. I'd half expected him to refuse now or to do it half-heartedly, but he did it even better than before, more steady. Gen Z. Fluent sexuality and all that. Maybe there was some truth in it. "Is that good?" he asked, his voice a whisper close to my ear. "Tight enough?" "Yeah," I croaked. "Perfect." "Wow, your balls are so amazing," he whispered. "Really impressive. Gonna come?" "Y-yeah," I gasped. I was so close, so close. "Yeah, shoot it," he said. "Show me what you got. You're so fucking cool, Mr. Johnson. Coolest dad ever." "Nh, ngh," I gasped, closing my eyes. It was a matter of seconds now. "Wow, your nuts are drawing up," the scratchy voice said close to my ear. "I think you're gonna do it, man! I think you're shooting! Wow, so cool! Look at that, man! Look at that!" "Yeah!" I gasped. "Yeah!" "It's growing even harder!" he said, sounding delighted as well as surprised. "Wow, a grown man's dick is - oh, wow!!!" I started shooting in the middle of his sentence, holding back a scream, emptying my nuts in jet after jet the way that only happens when an orgasm is really good. It felt like my whole body was doing it. "Fuck, yeah, Mr. Johnson!" Ethan gasped, thrilled. "Look at it! Pumping and pumping! Fuck, you're such a stud, Mr. Johnson!" I moaned, my dick jerking a few final times before I opened my eyes sluggishly, happy, winded and dripping with come. "You got some on me," Ethan said with a laugh, still holding my shaft. "Sorry," I said. "No problem," he said. "I think I got some on you, too." "Whew," I said. "That was a big one." He let go of me and sat back in his chair. "Tell me about it," he said. "I thought I was gonna explode." I laughed. "That was so much fun," he said, holding out his fist. "Buds?" "Yeah, buds," I said, bumping it. "Cool," he said. Then he yawned. "Yeah, it's getting late," I said. "Let's get some sleep." He nodded, and we slowly got up. He slapped my ass again with a delighted grin, and this time I got my own back and got a nice slap in on his hard, bony ass as well. We spent a few minutes finding our clothes in the now almost total darkness and getting everything inside. I took the bags off the bed while he went to the bathroom, and he came back with some paper towels and wiped me down, trying to get all the sperm off me with a dirty grin. "We need a shower," I said. He shrugged. "Tomorrow," he said. "Wanna sleep." "Yeah, alright," I said, not ready to insist. I was pretty beat myself. We brushed our teeth side by side, still naked. It made no sense to get shy now, I thought, and he never made any move at all to cover up. Then we turned off the lights and went to bed on opposite sides of the double bed, just two naked buddies sharing a bed. "This was so cool," he said into the darkness. "Thanks for being the coolest dad in our town." "Yeah, it was fun," I agreed. "Now go to sleep, buddy. We have a long drive tomorrow." "Yeah, night," he said. "Wait!" He fumbled with something, and then his phone lit up. Fucking phones. They can't leave them for five seconds. I sometimes want to break Sam's. "Look," he said with a laugh in his voice. He showed me a sent message to Sam. Sam had asked what we were doing, and in the middle of our, uh, doing each other, the fucking punk had written, 'yr dad is teachin me a nw game rly fn i dont no whos winnin bt so far im beatin him off'. He giggled and turned the phone off. I wondered briefly what the morning would be like with slight hangovers, dried sperm on both of us and no one wearing any clothes, but that was for tomorrow. Anyway, Ethan being Ethan I had a feeling it would be fine. **** Let me know if you liked the story! Check out my other stories: "The Sight of Jacob" https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/the-sight-of-jacob "Film Project in School" https://www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/highschool/film-project-in-school