Date: Sun, 05 Dec 1999 06:48:31 GMT From: Mat Subject: A Father's Gift - Part 3 - M/t/t Incest A Father's Gift -- Part 3 M/t/t incest Dedicated to Boytext, who's taught me a lot about a lot and deserves a good life. Restrictions Feel free to distribute this story anywhere and in any form you like with the following exceptions: You may not include this story on any web site that has a commercial age validation system or subscription charge: ie, Adultcheck, Pornopass or any similar scheme. You may not charge for this story, except for any media used to distribute it. You may not commercially reprint this story in any form without my express written permission. A Father's Gift -- Part 3 It took just over six weeks for Zack's broken arms to mend. He's always been an active kid and he found his incapacity almost unbearably frustrating. To give him something to look forward to, you promised that as soon as he was out of his casts you'd take him and his best friend camping. Although he broke his arms during school time, it was clear that you'd be into the summer recess by the time he was free of the plaster. On Tuesday his arms were released, and true to your word you've agreed to take him camping up in the mountains with his closest friend Michael. He's been talking about nothing else since. Wearing his emotions right on the surface makes him vulnerable to people who want to hurt him, but on occasions like this, where he's feeling happy and excited, it's wonderful to see. He chatters excitedly through every breakfast, planning what we're going to do, and questioning you about what to expect. He's like a ten year old. It's another of his adorable traits. Now it's early Saturday morning. You swing by and collect Michael then head for the hills. You park your 4x4 well off the road so that it's out of sight of opportunist car thieves, then each of you takes a large pack and you hike off into the hills. Zack is wearing cut-down jeans over blue Lycra cycling shorts, whilst Michael is in deep orange and yellow checked cotton shorts. Both boys are wearing T-shirts. You walk for five hours, heading deep into the wilderness. You've met Michael before, but you've never really got to know him. He's always been courteous, perhaps even shy. Now, with just the three of you together, you get to know him a lot better as you all chat away the miles. Although it seems that so many teenagers grow adult before their time, neither of these boys appears to suffer that affliction. They're not exactly childish; just innocent, unconcerned about the stresses of approaching adulthood. Or perhaps they're just confident, filled with the kind of self-assurance that only loving parents can give... By late afternoon, you reach the place that you'll set up camp. It's far from any marked trails, through ten miles of deep forest, beside a small freshwater lake, with rocky crags nearby. There's no danger of day-hikers stumbling across you here. You drop your packs and pitch the tent. You'll be tired later and the job will be much more of a task then. After the tent has been erected you unload the rest of your pack. You take out a few chocolate bars and throw one to each of the boys, keeping the third for yourself. "Let's go down to the lake for a drink," you suggest, and the boys join you on the fifty-yard stroll to the water's edge. You dip in a metal cup you've brought and fill it. You examine the clear water in the cup then take a tentative sip. It tastes pure and crisp. You take a big swig, the pass the cup to Michael. He drinks then passes the cup on to Zack who finishes the water. The three of you sit on the ground by the lake. Years of decayed ferns and windblown pine needles have built up layer upon layer of soft detritus, and the ground is spongy and pleasant. You're an experienced hiker, but the boys are not so used to the distance and they both look beat. Michael lies back on the soft ground, whilst Zack reclines on his side, propping himself up on his elbow. You make idle chit chat, talking about the journey so far, what you'll have for dinner and discussing your plans for the following day. After a while, you take the cup from Zack and go and refill it, scooping the water from deeper and a little further out where then sunshine hasn't removed its chill. You take a quick sip as you stroll back to the boys. Very refreshing! Without warning you tip most of it onto Michael's belly. Despite his T-shirt, the effect is instant and he sits up with a gasp and looks at you with his mouth forming a shocked "O", his eyes alive. Zack looks at Michael and laughs so you launch the remaining third of a cup at him. He leaps up to avoid the water, but he's not quick enough and it hits him right in the face. Zack dives at you, but Michael stands awkwardly by, not sure how to act, or how much familiarity to show. Zack hangs from your shoulders looking you in the face, and you easily support his weight. He shouts to Michael, "Come on Michael, help me!" Michael hesitates, and you swing Zack around. Then, uncertainty over, Michael launches himself at you and he lands on your back. He's a big lad and you stagger momentarily as he hits you, but then you start to spin in circles roaring like Godzilla and pretending to struggle. Roughhousing like this so often leads to pain when one person gets carried away and gets too rough or spiteful, but not with these boys. Although they're both struggling fiercely, you realise that they're both being very careful not to overdo it. You reach behind you and grab Michael's upper thighs, pinning him to you. At the same time you grab Zack in a bear hug. Then you charge towards the lake. When it becomes obvious that you plan to jump into the lake with your two passengers, Michael shouts, "No!" You stop and he quickly adds almost apologetically, "Not with my boots on. They'll take ages to dry." Thank goodness for his common sense. If he hadn't stopped you, tomorrow you'd all be walking around with wet boots and horrible blisters. You lower the boys to the ground. You turn to Michael and tousle his hair. "Good thinking big guy! Just in time." He glows at the compliment. You turn back to Zack, not willing to trust him on your blind side so close to all that water. But he hasn't bent down to splash you. Instead, he's sitting down taking his boots off. Michael follows suit, so you follow their lead. By the time your boots are off, the boys are down to their underpants. You undress, allowing them to dictate whether or not you'll skinny-dip. You glimpse a quick little exchange between them and Michael jumps onto your bare back. They've obviously decided that underpants is far enough. You quickly drop your own shorts and stand up in just your boxers. Michael's body is warm against yours and his skin brushes against you in a most enjoyable way. Although there's a potentially sexual charge to the contact, the boisterous physicality of two males has its own unique pleasures. You're bonding in a way that conversation alone will never achieve. You run the last few paces to the water and continue down the shallow two-foot, pebble-covered incline that could generously be described as a "beach". With the water lapping around your knees, you bend forward rapidly, catapulting the big lad over your shoulders straight into the water. The second Michael's gone, you feel Zack take his friend's place on your back. Without wasting an instant, you turn away from the shore and fall backwards, with your son beneath you. The water is freezing and all three of you emerge gasping at the cold and looking around amused by each other's reactions. You play in the water for fifteen minutes before hunger and the cold start to get the better of you. You're just thinking about suggesting that you get out and make dinner, when the two boys jump you from behind. Their combined weight, added to the element of surprise, is enough to pull you over, and you fall splashing beneath the surface of the water. Someone transfers his weight to your chest, pushing you still further under water. Then you feel a hand on your genitals. Momentarily cupping them, before gripping your penis through your underwear and pushing down towards its root in an unmistakably sexual gesture. You thrash wildly in surprise, but it takes you a few seconds to break surface. You look to the boys hoping to see by their expressions which one just groped you, but both have their backs to you and they're running in slow motion towards the bank. You chase them, saying nothing, not sure if the game is still on or if they've decided to bring things to a close. They get out of the water. The sun is low in the sky and it's much too cold to stand around. They scoop up their clothes and return to the campsite and you continue to follow, wondering who groped you. You don't know how you feel, but as you trot back to your camp you play the possibilities over in your mind. In all the time since you first masturbated your son in the shower, he's never been the one to initiate anything, although you have fooled around several times since then. This would be represent a wonderful progression in your relationship if he finally felt bold enough to make advances to you; even just in play. On the other hand, if it was Michael that touched you, it would be even more exciting, and the implications would be more than you'd dare to hope. You arrive at the tent and the boys drop their clothes to the floor, then stand around momentarily awkward. They're both standing in their wet underpants. Zack in his white cotton Y-Fronts and Michael in grey briefs. The water has made the cotton stick to their skin, and their genitals are clearly outlined. Zack's are small, but Michael's are larger and more intriguing. Zack breaks the impasse and drops his underpants to the ground. As you'd suspected, the freezing water has had its effect and his penis is shrivelled so tightly that it's almost completely non-existent. It's perhaps an inch long at best, and most of that is foreskin. It looks tightly puckered like a minute sea anemone. His balls have retracted entirely, and you can just about make out two lumps in the soft flesh on either side of the place where his penis joins his body. His short, black, spiky pubes look glossy, as if there's oil on them. Not wishing to look cowardly, Michael drops his briefs a moment later. Michael's a strange one. He's just fifteen; only nine months older than Zack, but must be the best part six feet tall and he's built like an ox. He's not exactly muscular, but he has that naturally huge bone structure that makes him look powerful. He's the kind of kid that people naturally call "Hoss". When he lowers his pants, you risk a look, just in case it's your only opportunity. His penis is obviously cold because it has a tight, firm look to it that's nothing to do with an erection. Yet despite that, it must be three, maybe even four inches long. It bends, downwards in a banana-like curve, too cold to dangle. Its foreskin is open a little at the end and points upwards slightly, like an upside-down teapot spout. You can just see his glans within. The cold has turned it a very pale whitish purple colour. Below his penis is a very tight scrotum. It's even paler than Zack's and about the size of a manderin orange, and just as round. It's deeply grooved, like the surface of a brain. The temptation to run your finger along one of the grooves is almost irresistible, but somehow you control yourself. However, the most surprising thing of all, is the fact that he's as bald as a coot. There's not even a hint of hair around his pubic region. The skin of his genitals is exactly the same colour as the rest of his body, with none of the darkening that would indicate the onset of puberty. You've heard of late developers, but this kid must be at the extreme end of that scale. He must take one hell of a lot of grief at school for this. Then again, judging by his physique, perhaps not... He looks up and catches you staring but rather than allowing time for an uncomfortable moment, you quickly wave in the general direction of Zack's groin and light-heartedly say, "It was REAL cold in that water, eh Zack?!" Michael turns to look where you've indicated. Zack looks down at himself and blushes red. Old faithful! Then something catches his eye and he says, "It doesn't seem to bother you Dad!" For a moment you're puzzled, then you look down at yourself. You're half hard and your penis is straining at your wet boxers, trapped at an angle below 45 degrees by the unyielding cotton. Now it's your turn to feel embarrassed. Was it the groping or the sight of the two boys naked? This is a tricky moment. If you show your embarrassment, he'll gain the upper hand, which you don't really mind now that your distraction tactic has worked. What you do mind is showing any self-consciousness about your natural bodily functions. If you allow yourself to blush, you'll be sending these boys the signal that there's something embarrassing or wrong about an erection, and that would do neither of them any good. You decide to brazen it out. "Ah, it's this hearty mountain air," you declare. "It makes me feel like a boy again!" In fact it makes me feel like two boys again, and they're both naked in front of me, you think to yourself. Your lips twitch as you suppress a smile at the thought, but Michael must be a perceptive kid because he gives you a quirky little smile of his own. Or perhaps he's the one that groped you and he knows why you're hard. Oh, the delicious uncertainty of it all! Without rushing, you lower your boxers, and your penis is freed, not so much with a spring, as with a hefty swing, like the boom of yacht. Both boys look at you, but Michael is scared of being caught and looks quickly back towards Zack. Your son continues to stare, not bothering to disguise the object of his attention. You bend down and rummage in your belongings for a towel, deliberately orienting your body so that both boys can still see your penis if they want to. As you look up, you see that Zack's penis is pressed hard against his belly. Michael is watching Zack, trying not to look at his erection but clearly interested. The poor boy is caught between a rock and hard place... Or a boner and a woody, take your pick! He quickly reaches into his own pack and pulls out a towel, which he bundles at his groin, ostensibly under the pretext of drying himself, but you have other ideas why. He doesn't see you watching him watching Zack. For his part, Zack's attention is so focussed on your dick, that he's oblivious of his own erection or Michael's. For a boy who gets hard so easily and masturbates so often, Zack is still very out of touch with his own body... Thank God! Michael's reaction reminds you to be careful, so you dry yourself off then dress, neither hurrying, nor putting on a show. Zack lingers just a little longer, caught trance-like in his own thoughts or hopes. Then he seems to snap out of it, and he reaches over and digs out his towel. He starts to dry himself and he seems to be genuinely surprised to discover his erection. You see his hand pause as he touches it. He dries off in a rush and pulls on just his cut-downs, then he excuses himself saying he has to go for a crap. He disappears into the woods without taking toilet paper, and five minutes later he returns to find you preparing an open fire to cook dinner. His face is red and flushed. He still hasn't learned what a tell-tale sign that is. You wonder if Michael has also noticed. As you light the fire, Michael goes quiet, then he excuses himself too. Ten minutes later, he returns looking sweatier than when he left. You wonder how they can both be so unaware? They might as well say, "We're just going to jack off in the woods." Of course, you won't say anything. It's incredibly erotic to know what they're up to when they don't think you do. The most secret of their little boy secrets. Instead you cook dinner and chat like nothing happened, all the while smiling secretly to yourself. At the end of the first night you're all thoroughly exhausted, and you go to bed just after dusk. The tent is roomy and you've brought bed packs instead of sleeping bags. The bed pack consists of two blankets, one to lie on, and a thick one folded in two to wrap yourself up in. You want to give the boys a more authentic experience, and this is far closer to the sleeping arrangements of the pioneers who first blazed a trail across this beautiful country. You fall quickly asleep, with Zack sleeping beside you and Michael beside him. You awaken sometime during the night to hear a distinctive sound. It's either one of the boys scratching, or one of them is jacking off. You strain to pick up a detail that will confirm it one way or the other. You can't hear the grating sound of nails on skin. What you do hear is a soft snigger. It's unmistakeably Zack's boyish giggle. The rhythmic noise stops instantly. There's not a sound for 5, 10, 20 seconds. Then you hear Zack whispering, "Why have you stopped?" Silence. "Michael, why have you stopped?" Silence. Then momentary activity as Zack presumably gives his friend a shove. "I know you're awake. Why did you stop?" Reluctantly, "I didn't know you were awake." "It doesn't matter. There's nothing wrong with it." You're filled with pride. Just six weeks ago, it filled your son's heart with dread to be seen naked by you, much less to talk so openly about sex. Now, he's acting as a sex therapist to his friend. Then, he was a fiercely heterosexual virgin, now he's a horny little hose monkey who gets an erection at the mere sight of your penis. Michael obviously decides not to try any further deception. With a sheepish voice he says, "I was just feeling horny. I thought you were asleep." "It's okay Mike. Everyone does it." Long pause. "Uhm, Mike?" "Yeah?" "You weren't just going to do it on the blanket were you?" "Nah, I'm using a sock." "On your dick?" "Yeah." Snigger. The idea has obviously never occurred to Zack. "Mike?" "Yeah." "Have you ever let anyone else touch your dick?" "Nope." Long pause. "Wanna try it?" Another long pause. "I guess..." You hear a rustling of blankets then more silence. Suddenly you hear Michael's startled voice, "Christ!" "What?" "Your hand's cold!" "Sorry." Even though it's just a single word, you can hear the wide grin on Zack's face. You smile in the absolute darkness. The boys are still so young. They still have so much to learn about the mechanics and practicalities of physical relationships. You hear slow rhythmic rustling and you don't need to see to know who's doing what to whom. "Jeez Mikey, you're big." "I know. It runs in the family. Can I feel you?" "Sure, if you like." Rustle, rustle, rustle. If it had been you, you would have gently chided Zack for the slimness of his penis or its shortness, depending upon whether he's hard or soft. Michael obviously has more manners, or perhaps considering his own absolute lack of pubic hair, he's decided that people in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. Either way, he says nothing as he presumably grips Zack's penis. Instead the rustling takes on a complicated stereo rhythm that tells you the boys are taking care of each other. After five or ten minutes you detect a musky scent in the air. It's not the rancid smell of normal sweat, rather it's an earthy, tangy smell. The smell of lusty teenaged sex. The pheromones in their sweat are biologically designed to stimulate and appeal to females, but the odour from the two sweating, masturbating boys beside you is quite enough to arouse you too. You hear the boyish panting that you've come to know and love so well. Michael hisses, "Shhh. Quiet Zack. Your Dad'll hear." Zack quietens down, but he can't help grunting throatily as he climaxes. Then there's a brief pause in the jacking sound as both boys stop working each other over. Michael knows that Zack no longer needs his services, whilst Zack's mind is momentarily blanked of all other thoughts as he squirts. 20 seconds later he presumably remembers his responsibilities because you hear the sound of a lone hand pumping away again. You can't believe your ears when you hear a soft, high-pitched, repetitive squeaking sound, like the springs of an old bed. Guess Michael doesn't have as much self-control as he thought! You feel, more than hear, the sound of Zack sniggering as he laughs at the irony. Michael's high-pitched squealing is adorable. That such a big lad could have such a delicate response to impending orgasm is a real turn-on. Michael's squeaking continues until he suddenly cries out, "Ahh, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, aaaaaaaauuuuuuuhhhhh!" His finally ecstatic exhalation starts in one octave and finishes two octaves lower and his voice cracks in his moment of bliss. Both boys lie silent for a couple of minutes then you hear Michael's voice, "Awesome!" "The best," Zack agrees, then they both fall asleep, leaving you with your thoughts and your erection. The next morning, you're the first to awaken. You crane your head over at the boys, not wanting your movement to awaken them. Zack is lying on his stomach but his hand is still inside Michael's bed pack. It's impossible to tell whether or not he's actually holding Michael's penis, but you hope so. It'd be nice to start the day with his friend's morning piss-boner in his hand... You take the opportunity to study their sleeping faces. You've always loved to look at Zack while he's asleep. Some parents get a kick out of watching their sleeping kids because it's the only time that the kids are innocent and peaceful. That's not your motivation because Zack's a lovely kid while he's awake. However, in his sleep, his facial muscles relax and he takes on an even more angelic appearance. He has quite a round face -- not puffy or jowly, but soft and sensuous. You look down at him now, his freckles have darkened with the summer sun and they're scattered across both cheeks, meeting like stellar constellations across the bridge of his nose. His nose is straight, with slightly wide nostrils. His usually spiky hair is longer than he normally wears it. He's let it go with the approach of summer. It swirls in anarchic tussles, and he reminds you of a comic book kid -- one of the Little Rascals, or Peter Pan perhaps. His lips are pink and soft, without being too overtly pouty or feminine. His eyelids are gossamer thin. They're flickering as his eyeballs twitch beneath. Maybe he's dreaming. You wonder what about. You look closer and you can see delicate wrinkles in the texture of his eyelids. The soft skin reminds you of the fine skin of his scrotum, which is as light as the membranes of a bat's wing. His little sack is so thin, yet it houses such wonderful and tender nuggets. You marvel that something so thin can be strong enough to serve such an important function. You look over at Michael. It's unlikely that you'd get an opportunity to examine him very closely in the normal course of things, so you savour this opportunity. He's very different to Zack. He has a strong jawline, and you've tended to think of him as having a harder face than your sweet son. Now as you scrutinize him more closely, you realise that that impression is perhaps an overstatement because he's just a kid like Zack. Jeez, he doesn't even have pubes yet for goodness sakes! His face is less perfect than Zack's, but you appreciate imperfection. It reveals his humanity, and anyway, most really exceptional-looking people tend to be vain in your experience. Not Zack of course, but then he has an exceptional personality to go with his exceptional face and body. Michael has a longer face than Zack. It's not thin, but it has a slightly bookish, nerdy quality to it. His eyebrow ridges are just a little more pronounced than most. It's not as though he's a Neanderthal or anything, but it does contribute to the sense of imbalance. His nose has definite lump midway down. Perhaps it's been broken. His hair is light brown, but the sun has turned some parts of it almost gold, giving him subtle and attractive highlighted streaks than no amount of Sun-In could emulate. He has pale skin, like Zack, but his cheeks have a permanent dappling of redness, as if he's flushed. He's by no means ugly, and all the imperfections simply create a sense of awkwardness about him that triggers your protective instincts. You clamber from the tent and make the fire to boil the water for morning coffee. You take a billycan and go down to the lake to fill it. When you return, both boys are standing on the other side of the camp with their backs to you, peeing into the brush that forms a natural barrier there. They're both standing in their underpants. Michael has both hands on his hips and is making funny little gyrations with his hips. At first you assume that he's writing his name in the dirt, but as you get closer, you see that the stream of piss is arcing away from him at nearly chest level. Guess you're not the only one to wake up with a broomstick in your pants! Now you think about it, Zack is not standing very straight. You remember the way that his erection hugs his belly. He wouldn't dare to piss no-handed unless he wanted a faceful. You realise that his slightly awkward position must be down to the fact that he's trying to bend his bone down far enough for safety. Even so, now that you're very close, you see that the stream of urine from his dick almost reaches head height. Narrow dicks always piss the highest. It's a simple matter of pipe diameter versus water pressure. It's a good way to tell how well endowed someone is without looking directly at their dick. As you reach the fire, you hear the two boys laughing together. They're looking down at each other and comparing piss streams. Zack directs his streamer towards Michael's and you hear Michael say solemnly, "Never, ever cross the streams. That would be bad." It's a line straight out of Ghostbusters and you smile at the boy's wit. You wish that he was quite that comfortable around you. Zack looks at his face, momentarily failing to pick up on the reference. Then he splutters and the two boys burst into laughter. You say, "Morning boys." They whirl around in surprise, and you get the briefest glimpse of Michael's erect penis before he realises his mistake and turns away again. It's clearly bigger than Zack's but because it's facing straight towards you, you can't really gauge its length. He hurriedly turns away and stuffs it back into his briefs. Zack takes more time, finishing his piss properly before tucking himself away again. "Hi Dad," he says casually and turns and walks back to the tent. His little flagpole is at full mast, and its head is propping up his underpants just below the elasticated waistband of his white Y-fronts. His tight balls are visible through the underpant leg-holes, which his erection has pulled open. His brazen action puts the pressure back onto Michael. The boy is clearly embarrassed but he turns and with his head held high, he tries to walk back to the tent with as much dignity as his very red face and his not completely wilted penis will allow. He'd have looked a lot more dignified if there wasn't a dollar sized wet patch on the front of his briefs where he's tried to cover up before he's stopped peeing. You look pointedly at his crotch and say in a sing-song voice, "Morning Michael." Then you give him a huge grin that makes it clear that you're relishing his unease. He looks ground-wards and hurries into the tent without a word. That night, you go to bed as tired as the night before. It must be something about the bracing air. Again, Zack sleeps between you and Michael. After an hour or so, you get up to go to take a pee. You shouldn't have drunk that extra hot chocolate before bed. When you return to the tent, Zack has rolled over in his sleep, and he now occupies the space where you slept. You shine your torch on his face to see if he's awake and can be moved. He's not. He's still soundo. No problem, you grab your bed pack and gently pull it out from under him, then you lay it out in the space between the two boys and lie down to sleep again. A while later you hear a noise beside you. "Zack?" You don't say a word. "Hey Zack. You awake?" Again you remain silent, but you turn towards Michael. "Zack, do you wanna..." His voice trails off. He doesn't speak again. You hear cautious movement, then you feel the blanket being moved at waist level. A hand touches your belly, slides straight down the front of your boxers and cups your genitals, then freezes. It's lucky you're not a hairy man or the game would have been up the second Michael touched your belly. However, it doesn't matter how smooth you are, there's no way anyone would mistake Zack's stumpy genitals for yours. The hand remains for a few seconds, as if Michael is trying to figure out what to do. Then it slides out soundlessly. He doesn't say a word, you feel his fingers trembling as he draws his hand away from you. You both lay in the dark and you can almost hear his heart pounding. He's trying to figure out what to do. He's just groped his best friend's Dad. What's the etiquette for that? He can't even begin to work out how one might apologise for such a thing. How would he even start? His only hope is that you're asleep. He stays silent for a whole minute, completely unmoving. You play the game, waiting to see if he will do anything. You're completely aware that he must be terrified, but you don't let him off. Your own heart is pounding for a completely different reason. This is your chance and they don't come much better. You slide your hand silently out of your blanket and into his. You make contact with the skin of his stomach and you feel him flinch. You slide your fingertips across his skin and rest your flat palm on his belly. You can feel the tension in his stomach, and along with that, you can feel his fluttering nerves. His faux pas gives you the right to make advances back to him. It opens doors that would have remained firmly shut in normal circumstances. His belly feels warm beneath your fingers. You don't hurry, relishing his fear and uncertainty. You don't really want to make him unhappy of course, but if he's going to make careless mistakes like that, you feel perfectly justified to mess with his head just a little. You gently rub his belly and when your fingers touch the waistband of his brushed cotton briefs, you slide your whole hand swiftly under and cup his private parts. Now you're trembling. It's all you can do to harness your excitement. But losing control now and jumping him would be the worst thing you could do. Right now, he's allowing you to touch him because it's fair payback for his earlier mistake, but that only goes so far... The trick is, to turn his fear into pleasure. To make him want more. To make him want it so badly that it overcomes his natural fear of adults in a sexual context. Michael is on his side. His dick is supported by his briefs. You start close your fingers around his package. You don't get far. He's a big lad. "Lay on your back," you whisper. He woodenly does as he's told. You peel his underpants down and hook them behind his balls. You have to do everything by touch because it's so dark. You wrap your fingers around his dick. It's incredibly warm and soft and must be at least five inches long. His fear has killed his passion so it's like holding a bloodless sausage in your hand. You release it and move to his balls. They're very big for his age, each the size of a good-sized plum. They're such a marked contrast to Zack's bluebird egg-sized nuts. You massage his groin, but he remains flaccid and unresponsive. You folds the blankets back, exposing his skin to the cool night air. "Don't worry Michael. Just relax," you coo soothingly. You remove your boxers, and then you move over and straddle his groin carefully, resting on your knees. Your hardness rests against his softness. You lean forwards and kiss him on the mouth. He immediately turns away. You gently but firmly use your fingers to turn his head back to you. You can feel the tension and reluctance in his neck. You whisper softly, "Just relax Michael, I'm not going to hurt you. We won't do anything you don't want to do. Come on, it'll be fun." You hope he doesn't realise the incongruity of what you've said. You're already doing something he doesn't want to do. He wanted to jack off with his best friend. He didn't want his friend's naked Dad sitting on him trying to kiss him. You kiss his lips again. They remain firmly closed. You massage them gently with your own lips. You feel them gently softening as he relaxes his mouth muscles. Then he surrenders and opens his mouth. It would be so easy to thrust your tongue in and overwhelm him. Instead you continue kissing gently, teasing encouraging him to get into the spirit of things. Finally, you feel his soft lips respond. He's not a good kisser; he just moves his lips around, but at least it's a start. Now you feel confident about using your tongue. You slip it into his mouth, delicately probing like a snake's tongue. Your tongues meet. He instinctively pulls his away from you. You allow him a moment to control his gut reaction. It's a good move, and you soon feel his tongue move back towards yours. The tips of your tongues flicker against each other, then glide past each other wetly. He tastes nice: sweet and full of young life. Your attention is suddenly distracted away from his mouth. You feel his soft penis filling with blood beneath your balls. He's like a frightened deer. Everything is so tentative, so cautious. It's so different to Zack's reaction. With Zack, although he was nervous, he had no control over his penis and it was rampant and twitching in seconds. With Michael, you feel his penis slowly inflating, unfurling from its at rest position like frightened mouse creeping from its hole. You grind your hips against his encouragingly, then you feel his arms timidly wrapping around your back, pulling you down so that you're laying on him, trapping your dicks between you. His tongue becomes more active, now pushing your tongue from his mouth and following it to explore the inner recesses of your own mouth. His penis continues swelling and you realise it's growing to quite a good size. You make a few short stabbing motions with your hips and his pelvis rises in response. You pull away from his mouth, sensing his surprise. You sit up and he has to release you from his arms. In the dark he has no way of anticipating your intentions. You hold him down, hands either side of his chest. His skin is slippery to your touch. He must be sweating, but you can't smell his musk over the scent of your own. You lean forward and drag a big, wide, wet tongue up the middle of his smooth chest. His skin is salty. You feel him shiver. Then you lick his nipples, first circling each one, then flicking the tip of your tongue over the small firm raised nub at each one's centre. You slide your groin away from his, slipping off his body. You open his legs in the darkness and kneel, legs together, between his knees. With both hands, you reach forward and cup his testicles. They fill your cupped hands. You roll and massage and manipulate them. He's straining towards you, desperate for more attention. You take his penis in your hand and try to judge its length. It feels adult-sized. You feel his loose foreskin with the fingertips of one hand. With the other hand you pull at the base of his penis and the skin easily retracts. You run your fingers along his penis. It has a very distinctive upwards curve, as if it's really eager for attention. Or perhaps it's that shape because he pulls it too hard when he plays with it... You lean forward and lick his balls. Your tongue is quite rough and it rasps against his huge hairless sack. You suck at his balls. They're too big to suck together, so you do first one, then the other. He's started vibrating. You didn't know that people did that until you started fooling with Zack. Maybe it's a teenage thing. He's so excited that he feels as if he's got an electric current zapping through him. You lick the head of his dick. It's much bigger than Zack's little morsel. It's wet and tastes of pre-cum. His balls have lifted high into his scrotum. You feel it and it's deeply grooved, as it was when he was cold. His balls are held rigidly in place. You don't want him to cum without you. You've done enough of that for Zack. You straddle him and rest your balls against his. Then you take his dick and yours in your right hand. Yours is about six inches long; his is an inch longer. It feels weird to be playing with this giant of a kid, who has a bigger dick than you do, and far bigger balls. The weirdest thing of all is his complete smoothness. You start to move your hand up and down your joined members. He's started squeaking so you know you don't have long. You pump as fast as you can, at the same time bouncing up and down, grinding your balls together. You cum with unexpected suddenness, and it lands on him. Although you don't groan, the wetness obviously triggers him off because he does groan, then he bucks his hips as if he's a bronco trying to buck you off. You carry on jacking until it becomes uncomfortable, then you let your penis free and carry on slowly pumping him until he stats to soften in your hand. You roll off him, exhausted but happy. He immediately rolls over and straddles you. You think he might be after more, but he doesn't try anything. Instead, he straddles your groin and sits on you, reversing your earlier positions. Your flaccid cock rests in the groove of his ass. He lays forwards to rest his head on your shoulder, and as your bellies touch, there's a wet squelch as the pooled cum on his belly is trapped between you. It feels cold, but your body heat quickly warms it. He deliberately wriggles, enjoying the slimy feeling down there. You hug his back and he hugs the side of your shoulders. Then, feeling profoundly contented, you fall soundly asleep, his nudity pressed against yours. Just before you lose consciousness, you wonder to yourself whether or not the boys will still consider themselves to be straight by the end of this week... The next morning you awaken slowly. You can feel Michael's weight on top of you. His knees rest either side of your hips and he's lying on your chest. You feel his morning erection lying against your lower belly, where his body has trapped it. Your own erection is nuzzling his ass. You look over at Zack to see if he's woken up yet. He's wide awake and laying on his side, propped up on his elbow watching you. He has a curious look on his face. His usual love is there of course, and a slight degree of amusement. There's also a cat-like curiosity. You grin back at him. "You okay bucko?" You want to make sure he's not jealous or upset. "Oh I'm okay. Are YOU okay?" You use your arm to indicate the body sleeping on top of you and give him a "What do you think?" expression. He chuckles loudly. "Yeah, you're okay!" The noise rouses Michael and he slowly comes to. He turns to look you in the face, still half asleep. You kiss him lightly on the forehead. He smiles warmly. A barrier between you has been forever destroyed. He turns to look at Zack. He looks somewhat sheepish as he blearily says, "Morning." "Morning," Zack replies. "Looks like you had a good night." Michael looks down at our naked bodies as if suddenly realising the full significance. I wonder if he's aware of his hard cock? He looks back at Zack and says, "Yeah I did." Then he gives a bashful grin and rests his head back contentedly down against your chest, watching his friend. You watch Zack closely too. You're looking for any warning signs, but as usual, he comes through for you. He's just the perfect kid. If he were any more perfect, you'd be checking to see if he was a Stepford boy. Throughout the entire brief exchange, there are been no negative undercurrents that you can detect. "C'mere," you say to him. Zack scoots over and kneels with his face a few inches from your own. He's so close it's almost making you go cross eyed. He really is shockingly beautiful. His face is so open and guileless. How unlike the surly, quarrelsome teens you see on TV. You and your wife keep waiting for him to do that Jekyll and Hyde transformation, but it just doesn't happen. You feel a surge of bliss as you stare into his sparkling blue eyes, then you say, "Have I ever told you how much I love you kiddo?" He gives an exaggerated sigh. "Only EVERY single day Dad!" You lean forward and steal a kiss from his soft cheek whilst he plays to the stands. It stops him dead and again he gets that happy, surprised expression on his face. A simple kiss means so much to him. He's so modest; he never takes you for granted. He shuts his mouth and tilts his head a little like a quizzical dog, looking candidly into your face. Then he leans over and gives you a kiss back. Full on the lips. It's your turn to be surprised. But before you can register your surprise or hold him close to prolong the kiss, his face is gone. "I love you too Michael," Zack says. Then he gives his still-sleepy friend a kiss full on the lips too. Michael's nostrils flare. "Mmmmm," he murmurs appreciatively. It all seems so natural. Michael doesn't seem at all shocked by the kiss. Last night's incredible experience has been a road to Damascus experience for him, and now he sees you both in a new light. His mind has literally been expanded, and things that two days ago would have seemed inconceivable and intolerable to him, are enjoyable facts of life. Looking between Zack's arms and down his body, you can see the tent in his underpants. His morning hard-on is quite evident. He says, "I've got to pee." "Just a minute, we'll join you," you say, but Zack is already clambering out of sight past your feet. You assume that he's going straight out of the tent, but suddenly you feel his ice-cold hand clutching your balls, and the other is reaching past your prick to grab Michael's balls. "Diddle iddle ee," he says in a falsetto tone, and gives your balls a quick twirling juggle. You tense and Michael jumps like a gun just went off close to his ears unexpectedly. We hear Zack chuckling like a mischievous Puck as he scurries from the tent. We look at each other wide-eyed, then leap up and bound after him, naked as the day we were born. By the time we catch him, he's still giggling to himself, but he's already started to pee, so it would be messy to get our revenge then. We'll have other opportunities. We stand in a row, Zack to one side and Michael on the other, and we all piss away our morning boners. We don't even bother to conceal our interest as we study each other. When you finish, you turn to Zack and he springs into your arms and wraps his legs around you. You just have time to catch him. He used to love being carried, but you haven't done it for a few years and he's much heavier now. Pressing against your belly, his hard little prick with its cold wet foreskin is an added dimension. You give him a fierce loving hug and start back to the tent. Then you pause just a moment, turn back and lift your arm so that Michael can be part of the group. He comes close and you drape your arm over his shoulders, give him a little squeeze and say, "Okay then boys, who's for breakfast?"