Date: Fri, 31 May 2002 09:24:08 -0700
From: marcar007 <marcar007@netzero.net>
Subject: MISTER ROBINSON

MISTER ROBINSON

By Carlos Zoltan Martinos

For adults who enjoy graphic descriptions of man-to-man sex

This story is set in Corpus Christi, Texas, in the pre-condom year of 1980.
The character "Trevor" is based on a friend who attended high school with
me in Corpus.  Trevor told me some amazing tales while we were seniors in
high school.  Some of them were probably true.


*     *     *     *      *


I'm Trevor.  And I'm a late bloomer, dammit!  I mean, I'm an eighteen year
old high school senior.  And I fuckin' look like a wide-eyed, innocent
freshman.  I'm a ballsy, gutsy young adult, trapped inside the body of a
fourteen-year-old kid.  The dudes I hang with at school are all growing
mustaches and long thick sideburns.  And I shave once a week, whether I
need to or not.

I've got this pretty-boy look about me that I hate.  You know.  Long
eyelashes that curl up at the ends.  Lips so red they look like Dracula`s,
right after a big score.  Rosy cheeks.  Black curly hair.  Delicate
features.  Shit, man.  I might as well wear a sign on my back that says
"Kick Me".

Last week at school this dude told me I looked just like a choirboy.  I
would'a cleaned his clock, but he was way bigger than me.  You get right
down to it, most everybody is bigger than me.  I'm five foot eight inches,
and I weigh in at one twenty five.

I started working out with weights last year.  And since then I've added
ten pounds of solid muscle to a bod that I like to call "lean".  When I
take in a deep breath and hold it, you can actually see my pecs bulging a
little.  And the guys in my gym class have taken to calling me "mini-hunk".

Like so many small guys, I've got a smart mouth.  It's got me in trouble
more times than I want to remember.  But I'm a speedy little fucker.  I can
outrun all but a handful of the guys in our school.  So my speed usually
gets me out of the trouble that my smart mouth gets me into.

So I'm eighteen years old and I still look like a kid.  Well, not
completely.  That piece of meat I got dangling between my legs is all man.
Five inches soft.  Eight inches hard.  And I'm thick.  I mean really thick.
Even when I'm soft, I'm thick.  When I strip off at night before going to
bed, I always take a good hard look at myself in the mirror.  And it's a
shock every time.  It's almost obscene, but in a good way.  Seeing this
little kid staring back at me, with a monster dong hanging half way down to
his knees.

*     *     *     *     *

The month of June in Corpus Christi can be delightful.  But this year it's
a scorcher.  The balmy gulf breezes usually kiss our shores lustily in the
springtime.  But this year they have abandoned us, fleeing northward to
escape a humid flow of sub-tropical air from the south.  Even our raucous
sea gulls seem subdued and diminished.  Gliding listlessly, aimlessly, with
no sense of purpose.  Only the hordes of vacationing tourists remain the
same.  The Huns and the Visigoths and the Vandals of the 20th century.
They are just as gaudy and vulgar as ever.  They mingle freely with our
indigenous cowboys and roughnecks and hot blooded Latinos.  Leaving ugly
trails of fast-food debris in their wake.

My parents are in Fort Worth for the summer.  I remained at home to attend
summer school, and to baby-sit the house.  We live in a pricey, up-market
area of the city.  Just a block from the bay.  We're in a gated community,
and that gives my mom and dad a leg up when they're trying to impress
visitors.  My parents mean well.  But they're caught up in the
materialistic rat race that seems to plague suburbias from coast to coast.

*     *     *     *     *

Mr. Robinson propositioned me yesterday.  Quit your smirking.  I mean for a
JOB.  And no.  Not a BLOW job.  Mr. Robinson is our next door neighbor.  I
was mowing the lawn out by our pool.  Wearing nothing but my Levi cut-offs.
Now that I'm working out, I like to show off my manly physique.  :-)
Anyway, Mr. Robinson is remodeling his family room, and he asked me to help
him.  He works on the remodel every evening for a couple of hours, after
dinner.

Everybody says that Mr. Robinson has oil royalties out the wazoo.  So I
asked him why he didn't just hire a contractor to do his remodel.  He gave
me a long hard look before responding.  Then he said that he wants to do it
himself, so that he can get in touch with his masculine side.  Seems like
Mr. Robinson is always making unexpected, off-the-wall comments like that.
Maybe that's the reason I like him so much.  There's that, plus the fact
that he's a thirty-nine year old blond, blue eyed stud.  Six foot two and
one hundred eighty pounds of muscular grace.

*     *     *     *     *

It's the following evening now, and Mr. Robinson responds to my knock on
the door.  "Hey Trevor.  Come on in.  Good to see ya, babe."

He's stripped down to his gym shorts, and I feel a sharp jolt in my groin.
No shit!  I wish I wouldn't do that.  Yeah, I'm gay.  A gay virgin, if you
can believe that!  But I'm supposed to be helping him remodel his family
room.  And instead of that, I'm fantasizing about him fuckin' me.

For a long moment I can't take my eyes off his hot bod.  He's a muscular
dude, without being muscle bound.  He's sporting a gorgeous golden bronze
tan.  Broad shoulders.  Bulging pecs.  Six pack abs.  And an athlete's
muscled up legs.  He's got a dusting of blond hair on his chest and his
legs and his forearms.  And there's a thick trail of dark blond hair that
starts above his navel and disappears enticingly into his low riding gym
shorts.  To sum it up, the guy's a walking wet dream.  "Shit, Trevor!" I
finally tell myself.  "Quit staring at him."

Mr. Robinson gives me a quick tour of his house.  Then, "Well, Trev.  What
do you think of my bachelor pad?"

"Cool, man!" I respond with an envious grin.  "You've got everything here
but hot and cold running blonds."

He gives me an amused look.  Then he returns my grin with one of his own.
It lights up the room.  "To tell ya the truth, Trev, blonds just don't do
it for me.  I'm turned on by people with curly black hair.  Like yours.
That's what really gets my juices flowing."

I know I'm supposed to be the guy with a smart mouth.  But for a moment I'm
speechless.  And to make matters worse, I'm blushing!  Oh shit!

But I've got a "wise-ass" reputation to uphold, so I finally come back
with, "But blonds are supposed to have all the fun, Mr. Robinson.  And with
that buzz-cut blond hair of yours, you look like a guy who has A LOT OF
FUN.  So tell me, Mr. Robinson, when you're out for a fun time, what do you
like to do?"

He eyes me thoughtfully for a moment.  "Oh.....Cunnilingus.  Fellatio.
Stuff like that."

"Mr. Robinson!"  My voice is teasing now.  "You rascal!  So you swing both
ways."

"Good Lord, Trevor!  You're eighteen.  You're not supposed to know the
meaning of words like cunnilingus and fellatio."

I flash him what I hope is an enigmatic smile.  "You would be surprised at
the things I know.  And we'd better get to work.  `Cause if we don't get to
work now, we might never get to work at all."

*     *     *     *     *

It's the second evening now.  And that's when things really start getting
interesting.

We're about an hour into our work when Mr. Robinson lets out a loud yelp.
"Oh!  Son of a bitch!  Fucking bastard!"

"What's wrong, Mr. Robinson?"  I figure him for a broken arm at least.

"Oh, shit, man!  I pulled a muscle in my thigh.  And it's cramping on me
bad!  Help me upstairs, Trevor."

So we hobble upstairs, Mr. Robinson leaning heavily on my shoulder.  He
leads me into his bedroom and collapses on his king-sized bed.  Lying on
his back.  "Pull my shorts off for me, Trevor.  Just grab `em at the bottom
and pull."

So how do you pull a dude's shorts off of him, while he's lying in bed,
without getting your face up close and personal with his crotch?  And why
am I feeling so excited at the prospect?  I'm supposed to be helping him.
Not leering at him.

Anyway, I climb up onto the bed, kneel between his legs, and give a good
hard tug.  His shorts slide down his legs and off.  And I can't believe my
eyes.  It's like I'm standing before that mirror in my bedroom.  Looking at
my own cock.  Mr. Robinson and I are virtual twins.  He's got my dick.
We're almost identical.  Only he's blond.

His cock is lying there in all its glory.  Just a foot or two from my
mouth.  A thick blue vein snakes along the top of it.  Is it just my
imagination, or can I actually see it throbbing?  That thick line of dark
blond hair that starts above his navel expands as it drops down into his
pubes.  Creating a sensual, blond hairy nest for his luscious piece of
meat.  His balls, encased in a tight nut sac, are pressed up tight at the
base of his cock.  And just like me he's a good five inches, soft.

Then I'm suddenly aware that I've thrown a woody.  The poor guy is writhing
in pain, and I get a boner.  I glance up at him quickly, and he's looking
down at me.  Watching me stare at his dick.  I'm humiliated.  And here
comes that fuckin' blush again.

"Sorry, Trevor.  I didn't mean to scare you with this big whang of mine.  I
figure it's nothing you haven't seen before.  But I'll grant you, it is a
handful."

And then he winks at me!  At least I think he did.  No.  I know he did!
He's talking to me about his fuckin' dick, and then he winks at me.

Now he puts his hand on my head and ruffles my hair.  "You know, Trevor, I
don't mind if you want to look at my dick.  In fact I kind of like it when
you do.  I guess I'm just a nudist at heart.  Especially when I'm with a
good-looking boy with curly black hair."  He flashes me a sly grin, and I'm
speechless again.

"What I want you to do now, Trev, is give my left thigh a good hard
massage.  And don't be afraid of hurting me.  That's it, babe.  Feel that
hard knot about two thirds of the way up on the inside of my thigh.  Oh
yeah.  Right there, babe.  Now just start rubbing your hand up and down the
inside of my thigh.  Right where you feel that knot.  Ummmm! Shit yeah,
man!  That's Nirvana, Trev."

I can't help but stare at Mr. Robinson's beautiful cock.  And it's
thickening and stretching out.  To its full eight inches.  Right before my
eyes.  He's watching me, and he seems oblivious to the fact that he's got a
raging hardon now.

"That feels so fucking hot, Trevor!  You've got great hands.  And I see
you're admiring my erection, babe.  Hey, no sweat man.  I want you to
admire it.  It's a beauty, isn't it?!  Go ahead.  Grab hold of it.  It's
hot, man."

"Whoa, Mr. Robinson!  I don't know.  All this is totally new to me."

"I just want you to jerk me off, Trev.  And then I'll jerk you off.
Nothing wrong with a couple of buddies helping each other out like that,
Trev.  That's what friends are for.  What's that old saying?  If it feels
good, do it!"

I reach out and feel his tool with the tips of my fingers.  It's hot to the
touch.  Then Mr. Robinson closes his big hand over mine, and I've got his
dick in my hand.  He keeps his hand over mine for several long moments.
Then those powder blue eyes of his lock onto mine.  His deep voice is
barely above a whisper.  "Are you okay with this, Trevor?"

I don't trust my voice at this moment, so I give him a thumbs up with my
free hand.  And I think to myself, "Yeah!  Am I ever okay with this!"

Mr. Robinson flashes me a brilliant smile.  "You're eighteen, Trevor.  That
means you've had years of experience jerking yourself off.  So I'm putting
myself in your capable hands, so to speak.  I'm just going to lie back and
relax and enjoy it."

I marvel at the heat generated by his giant tool, as I start that old
familiar up and down motion with my hand.  And he wasn't bullshitting me
when he said he was a handful.  My little boy hand won't quite fit all the
way around it.  I work into a good steady rhythm, and then look up at him.
I'm surprised to find him watching me intently.

"I'm so fucking hot, Trev, I'm not going to last long this time.  But there
will be lots of other times.  Keep your eyes on me, babe.  I want you to be
looking into my eyes when I shoot my load.  That's an exquisitely intimate
moment, Trevor.  When one man brings another man to climax.  Share that
moment with me, Trevor.  I'm almost there now, babe.  Your small hand, as
it slides up and down my monster cock, looks almost childlike.  But we're
both men, Trev.  Hot horney men.  Creating an incredible bond with one
another.  Oh yeah, babe!  It's on it's way now!  Here it comes!!
Ummmm!!.........Oh fuck!!"

Great spurts of hot cum erupt from Mr. Robinson's massive, pumped up dick.
They splash onto his chest and stomach, as I watch in disbelief.  The sheer
volume of cum the guy produces leaves me in awe.

"I made that for you, Trevor.  Lean down and taste it with your tongue.
I've been told I have the sweetest cum in the state of Texas."

And now I'm on automatic pilot.  I'm aware of my head moving down to his
chest, without any conscious effort on my part.  I lick his chest, and the
sweet/tart taste of his cum is like ambrosia in my mouth.  I never dreamed
anything could taste this virile.  I'm consuming the essence of the man.
He is part of me now.  And I don't stop until I have all of him.

"That was intense, babe."  Mr. Robinson's voice is an octave lower than
usual.  "Now take off your cut-offs, and lie down here beside me."  In a
flash I'm beside him.  Lying flat on my back.  Naked.  My rock hard dick
towering proudly above me.

Then I hear Mr. Robinson let out a long, low whistle.  I look over at him,
and I swear his eyes are out on stems.  Like those characters in cartoons.
"Jeez, Trevor!  I always knew things were bigger here in Texas.  But no
shit, kid!  What have your parents been feeding you, anyway?!  And what's
that thing going to look like when you're full grown?"

"I'm not sure, Mr. Robinson.  But unless this little guy gets some
attention fast, he's gonna self-destruct before he has a chance to grow any
more!"  I'm starting to relax a little now, and my smart mouth is coming
back to me.

Mr. Robinson wraps his hand around my tool.  My cock head glistens with
pre-cum.  I'm so horney it only takes a few strokes.  I go off like a
geyser, spraying my chest with my jizz.  Then Mr. Robinson brushes his lips
softly against mine.  He's redolent of Dial soap and fresh masculine sweat.

"Are you still okay with this, Trevor?"

"I've never been so okay with anything in all my life, Mr. Robinson."

We're both quiet for a while now.  Lying hand in hand as my hot jizz dries
on my chest.  Finally Mister Robinson speaks.  But it's more like a low
growl.  "I am so into you, babe."

"Ummm!" I say, as I snuggle closer into his hard masculine body.  "I just
wish you meant that literally instead of figuratively."  A grin tugs up the
corners of my mouth.

"You're a funny guy, Trevor," says Mr. Robinson, as he returns my grin.
"So you want me into you, huh?  Well, that can be arranged, babe.  That can
be arranged."

Now silence descends upon us again.  Both of us are so totally relaxed.
Touching and being touched.  Feeling and being felt.  And we're both loving
it.  Finally Mr. Robinson says, "Would you like to spend the night with me,
Trevor?"  But I don't reply.  I'm already sound asleep in his arms.

*     *     *     *     *

So I never went home last night.  I woke up at nine this morning, and
Mr. Robinson was already gone.  I found a note on his dresser: "Make
yourself at home, Trevor.  I'll see you around six this evening.  Mister
R."

It's around two o'clock when I venture outside, into a warm, vibrant, sun
drenched afternoon.  I amble down to the bay, and out onto a long, rickety
fishing pier.  Beating all odds, it has somehow managed to survive several
hurricanes over the past twenty years.

For the first time in weeks, playful gulf breezes have vanquished the
sultry calm that has beset the Texas coast.  White caps paint the bay, as
far as the eye can see.  Their brilliant splashes of white are set against
a background of pungent aquamarine seawater.  The jellyfish roll with the
punches, tossed hither and yon by capricious currents and eddies.  And a
hapless catfish flops crazily on the pier.  Mercifully unaware that he is
only hours away from being the guest of honor.  At a seafood dinner he
would rather not attend.

With a spring in my step and a bulge in my jeans, I return to
Mr. Robinson's house around five.  And I'm starting to get antsy.  And
nervous.  And eager.  Finally, just before six, Mr. Robinson walks through
the front door.

And I'm all over him.  The poor guy barely has a chance to put his
briefcase down before I'm unbuttoning his shirt and unzipping his pants.
We finally fall onto the sofa.  Both naked.  Both horney.  Both hard.  His
hand is on my cock in a heartbeat.  Jerking me slowly.  Trying to prolong
it, to no avail.  I blow all over both of us, with great arching spurts.
And just a few minutes later, I bring him off too.  As I feel his hot cock
throbbing in my hand, tears well up in my eyes.  Tears of joy.  It's all so
natural to me.  It's all so right.

And we lie there together.  On the sofa.  Clinging to one another.  Neither
of us wanting to turn loose.  Finally I venture, "Are you a "chicken hawk",
Mr. Robinson?"

He stifles a laugh as a look of surprise flashes across his face.  Then he
says thoughtfully, "I understand why you would wonder, Trevor.  You've just
turned eighteen, and I'm just barely on the right side of forty.  But
actually, no.  I'm not a chicken hawk."

"You're a rare combination of the things that get my juices flowing,
Trevor.  You're small.  You're slender.  You have a pretty face and
delicate features, without being effeminate.  You have gorgeous curly black
hair.  And oh yeah.  I almost forgot.  You're hung like a stud horse.  That
hasn't gone unnoticed."

"And lurking behind that smart mouth of yours is a sensitive, vulnerable
guy.  A stud-muffin wise-guy with a beautiful soul.  A guy who is
masculine, without having all that combative macho baggage that sometimes
goes with masculinity.  You can get in touch with your masculine side by
helping me remodel my family room.  And an hour later you can get in touch
with your feminine side by wrapping your cute little hand around my big
dong and bringing me off."

It's not your age, babe.  It's the entire package.  Your psyche and your
body, combining to create that guy named Trevor.  The guy who walked into
my life and turned on the lights.  That's right, babe.  I know it sounds
retro, but you light up my life."

*     *     *     *     *

The ensuing days fly by in an erotic haze of stiff dicks and hot loads.  We
jerk each other off at least twice a day.  And as the days progress we're
getting more and more sexually in tune with one another.  And we're
prolonging our play time.  Now we enjoy at least a half-hour of fun and
games before the floodgates burst.

And our favorite game has turned out to be ass play.  We take a hot soapy
shower together every evening, after we finish our remodel work.  With
Mr. Robinson lavishing lots of soapy attention on what he calls my bubble
butt.  Then we're off to that giant king bed of his, where he has me lie on
my back and pull my thighs up to my chest.  Exposing my bubble butt as no
other position can.

Mr. Robinson loves to let his fingers roam over my butt.  Massaging it.
Kneading it.  Rubbing it gently and then with more force.  Then he moves on
to my ass.  His fingers glide up and down my ass crack.  Moving a little
further into my crack with each stroke.  Until he finds my slick little
asshole.  He puts some lube on his finger, and rubs it around and around on
my hole.  I'm always tight at first, but he's gotten so he can loosen me up
nicely now.

Then he enters me with a finger.  Pushing softly.  Probing gently.  Gliding
slowly all the way in.  Then a second finger.  And a third.

But tonight he surprises me.  After pulling his fingers out of me, he
hesitates briefly.  And then I feel his tongue gently probing my ass,
finding my asshole, and caressing it.  With his tongue.  And I'm squirming
now, in spite of myself.  And groaning and moaning.  He has taken me to a
new state of ecstasy that I never knew existed.  I never knew until this
instant that my asshole is the most erogenous part of my body.

Now Mr. Robinson brings his head up beside mine, and kisses me gently on
the lips.  "Do you remember what you told me on our first night, Trevor?
You said you wished I was literally into you.  Well, tonight's the night,
babe.  I'm going to enter you now.  Not with my fingers.  Not with my
tongue.  I'm going to enter you with my erect cock.  We both know that I'm
a thick bastard, Trev.  We both know that you have a small frame.  And we
both know that you've never been fucked before.  So I'm not going to
mislead you by saying it's going to be easy.  It won't be.  Are you okay
with this, Trevor?"

"I was born for this moment, Mr. Robinson. The thought of it thrills me.
And it terrifies me too.  And you're right.  I've never been fucked.  I'm
relying on you to be my teacher.  My mentor.  My guide.  You're the
experienced stud.  And I'm the green trainee.  Teach me tonight."

"It's important that we both be patient while you're learning, Trev.  It'll
take a lot of training sessions before we really have it perfected."  Sly
grin from Mr. Robinson.  "We'll have to do a lot of practicing before
you've mastered all the subtle nuances and techniques involved with
accepting my thick rod up your bum."  And now Mr. Robinson's grin is no
longer sly.  It's devilish.  "But this is the important thing to remember
about the whole learning process, babe: Don't be terrified.  Enjoy it!  It
will be up to me to give you a wild ride, every time we get it on.  And it
will be a great erotic adventure.  Every time.  For both of us!"

"Now just remain on your back and relax, Trev.  Take deep steady breaths.
And use your imagination.  Conger up vivid mental images of my thick cock
gliding gracefully in and out of you.  Imagine how great it's going to
feel, having me up inside of you.  I'm pushing your thighs back up against
your chest now, babe.  This position makes it easier for you to accept me."

Mr. Robinson`s voice is low and soothing now.  "What you're feeling on your
asshole now is the head of my lubed up dick.  Relax for me babe.  Take deep
steady breaths and relax.  You're going to feel some discomfort now, Trev.
Because I'm starting to exert pressure.  Gently at first.  Then steadily
increasing pressure.  And don't tense up on me, babe.  It's so much easier
for you if you just stay relaxed."

"Whoa, Mr. Robinson!  This is a little more than I expected."

"Hang in there, Trevor.  We're getting close!"

I glance down at my dick for a moment.  And I'm amazed to see that, even
with all this discomfort, I still have a full-blown hardon.  I never knew
anything could hurt this good.

Mr. Robinson`s voice is showing more fervor now.  "You're probably feeling
some pain now, Trevor.  `Cause I'm exerting maximum pressure.  And you're
opening up for me, babe!  Way to go, kid.  My thick cock head just popped
right into you........Now lie perfectly still.  Let all the tension drain
out of your body.  The discomfort will start easing off in a few moments.
Deep steady breaths, babe.  You're starting to accommodate yourself to my
tool......So how you doing, Trevor?  You ready for me to start easing on
into you?"

"Things are feeling better all the time, Mr. Robinson.  So ease on in.  But
slowly.  The operative word is slowly."

And I'm starting to feel this incredible sensation of sexual fullness.  As
Mr. Robinson's slick, gorgeous rod slips slowly into me.  He's filling me
up with his dick.  And this is the moment I've been fantasizing about since
the moment I walked into his house for the first time.  A masculine stud is
entering me.  And I am accepting him.  This is my kind of sex!  To yield
myself to a man.  To be possessed by a man.  To be fucked by a man.  To be
fucked by Mr. Robinson!

"I'm into you now, Trevor."  Mr. Robinson's gentle voice caresses the room.
"My huge cock is all the way into your tight little body.  You've taken all
of me, babe.  It's such a gorgeous sight, Trev.  Seeing my pubes pressed
hard against your ass.  Knowing that my dick is buried deep within you.
Knowing that you want me, just as much as I want you.  I'm going to make
love to you now, Trevor.  In that special way that two men make love.  Now
I'm sliding gently out of you, babe, so that only my cock head remains
within you.  And now I'm easing back in.

Now Mr. Robinson lowers his body onto mine.  Our lips brush once, and then
again.  And now we are kissing.  Open-mouthed.  Passionate.  Long,
lingering kisses.  And all the while he continues his virile strokes.
Thrusting gently.  Slowly.  Deeply.  Possessing me in a way I never dreamed
possible.  Fucking me.  Loving me.

You know how some couples anticipate each other's words?  And finish each
other's sentences.  Well, when we're fucking we anticipate each other's
movements.  We move together with a harmony so perfect it couldn't be
choreographed.  We move with a natural, fluid grace.  Our bodies coming
together and then parting once again.  In an erotic slow dance of love.

Now Mr. Robinson whispers into my ear.  "Wrap your legs around my waist,
Trevor.  That's it, babe.  That lets me thrust even deeper into you.  I'm
plowing deep into your bowels, Trev.  And it's the most exquisite sensation
I've ever experienced.  You are so incredibly sexy.  You know that don't
you, Trevor.  With your pretty boy face.  Your little boy body.  And your
bad boy dick.  It's a wild, wicked, crazy combination, Trev.  And it all
comes together to create an inimitable young man."

"I wish I could prolong this moment forever, Trevor.  But I'm approaching
that point of no return.  That last jolt of testosterone is kicking into my
balls.  And any second now I'll be going over the brink.  I'm about to
experience that ecstatic sensation of orgasm.  And it will be my most
special orgasm ever, Trev.  Because it's with you."

"I'm jerking your cock for you, babe.  So that we can share this incredible
experience together.  Climax with me now, Trevor.  Let's do it together.
Send your seed spurting out of you, onto your chest.  Just as I'm shooting
my load deep within your bowels.  Do it with me now, Trevor.  Together.
Just the two of us.  Together.  Do it now."

Now we are both moaning and groaning.  "Ummm!  Oh my God!  Fuck me,
Mr. Robinson!  Hold me tight and fuck me!"  And I feel his cock throbbing
and pulsing, as he spews his cum deep within me.  And at that same moment
my cum erupts from my cock and splashes onto my chest in great white
spurts.

And we both know that this is a defining moment.  Our lives will never be
quite the same again.

Now Mr. Robinson lowers his head to my body.  And slowly, deliberately, he
licks my cum from my chest.  Taking my sperm into him.  Just as I accepted
his sperm into me.  Lapping my life force into his mouth.  And holding it
there.  Savoring it.  Loving it.  Before letting it trickle slowly down his
throat.  To become a part of him.

*     *     *     *     *

It's the following morning now.  Saturday.  We're sitting on the deck.
Sipping strong coffee, and inhaling the tangy marine aroma wafting in from
the bay.  On the verdant green lawn, Mr. Robinson's young puppy frolics and
frisks.  Consumed by that special joy understood only by puppies and
kittens.  Totally unaware that his new master is a gorgeous hung stud.

"You know, Trevor, I've been wondering."  Mr. Robinson is trying to look
serious, but a tiny smile escapes from his lips before he can muzzle it.
"Do you think our age difference is a problem?"

And now it's my turn to put on a serious face.  "I'm afraid it might be,
Mr. Robinson.  I'm very mature for my age.  And you just might be too young
for me."

Mr. Robinson's grin is full bore now.  "Still the smart-ass aren't you,
Trevor?"

"Always the smart-ass, Mr. Robinson."  And now we're both grinning like two
Cheshire cats.

When we finally settle down, Mr. Robinson says, "Tell me about yourself,
Trevor.  What makes Trevor unique?"

"Ummm...How about this: My father came out of a test tube."

"What's that supposed to mean, Trev?"

"Back in 1961 they discovered that my dad was shooting blanks.  So my mom
took a trip to the San Antonio Sperm Bank.  And to offset her tiny dark
stature, she requested a tall, blue eyed blond sperm donor.  And Voila!
Nine months later, I was the little blessed event."

"When exactly was this, Trevor?"

"Well, I was born in May of 1962.  So my mom would have conceived in August
of 1961."

"The summer of `61."  It's almost as if Mr. Robinson is thinking out loud.
"That was the year before I inherited my oil royalties.  I was a starving
student.  Selling my sperm to keep food on the table.  Selling my sperm to
the San Antonio Sperm Bank!"

Now our eyes lock.  And we are both speechless.  Finally I say,
questioningly, "Daddy?"

And Mr. Robinson replies, "Junior?"

And then we both burst into laughter.  Uncontrollable laughter.  Finally I
say, "Thanks, Dad.  Even though we don't look much alike, we definitely
have one huge characteristic in common.  Thanks for passing that on to me!"

And we break up again.  Our peels of laughter float across manicured
grounds.  Carried along by playful gulf breezes, our whoops and hollers
resonate heartily through the morning mist.  As we celebrate our father and
son reunion.

Mr. Robinson and me........Father and son?........Is it probable?
........Nah.

But is it possible?........You betcha.


THE END

marcar007@netzero.net