Date: Sun, 17 May 2015 01:22:58 -0400
From: Milford Slabaugh <tommyhawk1@aol.com>
Subject: A Night Talk

                           A NIGHT TALK
                      By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
                   WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM

     [Note: This story involves a father and his underaged son having a
sexual encounter.  As always, my stories are fantasies with no basis in
reality either intended or implied, I personally have a clearly defined
border between fantasy and reality in my own life and can enjoy these sort
of stories with no desire to go out and emulate them in my own life.  But
if stories of this sort offend you, please, spare yourself and read no
further.  I write a wide variety of stories (it's what lets me stay so
prolific) so check back next week for a story of mine that may not go too
far for you.]

     Clem looked up from taking off his boots with an emotion of equal
parts annoyance and fear. It was his wife Becka hovering over him. "What is
it, woman?" He asked peremptorily before she could screech out her usual
words to get his attention ("Clem!" at full volume even though she was
barely three feet away from him) as he dropped his boot onto the porch
beside its mate. Both were caked heavy with the Mississippi mud, a product
that was both thick, cloying and persistent. His feet were thus revealed to
be clad in thick, gray tube socks and his toes wriggled happily in their
new-found freedom.
     His wife was an intimidating figure over him, red bandanna tied over
her head, the face deep black with the eyes a pair of white round saucers
beneath that, the dress of simple blue with an apron sewn onto the front of
it, arms akimbo with her fists balled at her waist. "You got to have a talk
with your son!" she declared.
     "Why can't you talk with him?" Clem declared. "I been plowing the
south forty all day woman, I am plumb tuckered and not half done yet!" He
flexed his arms to show his fatigue, but his broad muscled chest and huge
globes of biceps defeated this effect, showing only him to be the virile
bull of a man he was. His skin was nearly as dark as his wife's but his
face wasn't round as hers, he had a broadly noble squared chin and eyes
that spoke of intelligence as well as determination to live his life his
own way. He wore a straw hat now lying on the porch near his boots, a soft
cotton shirt nearly shapeless from endless washings on his woman's scrub
board, and a pair of worn out but still serviceable bibbed overalls. All
proper attire for a poor black farmer of the deep South of 1935. He tugged
off his socks and dropped them, damp and smelly, onto the boots and his
toes wriggled happily once again, long and athletic toes, long like his
fingers, long and thick like another part of his anatomy that his wife
wasn't satisfying nearly often enough to really suit him.
     "He ain't going to listen to his mother on this!" Becka's voice
reached its usual decibel level of anger that seemed to be her favorite
emotion. "It's got to be his Pa if it's going to be anyone."
     "All right, woman, what's Ben done gone and said and done?" His son
and only child was Benjamin, a wiry young man of fourteen years' age, he
took after Clem in his general build, he was going to be a strong man, and
after his mother in his strong vocal opinions on anything and everything,
uncomfortable in a youngster his age.
     "Not what he's done, but what's he's talking about doing!"
     "So what's he talking about doing?"
     "He says he ain't never getting married!"
     "What's wrong with that?" Clem asked, genuinely baffled. God knows
he'd regretted the act any number of times. "A boy thinks that when he's
young, but the right girl comes along and he changes his mind. Leave him
be!"
     "That ain't all he said!"
     Getting information out of his wife required patience, Clem took the
opportunity to walk inside. "How much longer's dinner going to be, woman?"
he asked when he saw the table still bare, a pot still boiling on the
stove.
     "Another half hour or so. He told Jim that he didn't like girls." Jim
was a friend of Ben's, his main confidante. Clem perked up and listened
more, for Jim to blurt out a confession of his best friend meant more than
the usual young naughtiness, Jim was worried about Ben.
     "Didn't like 'em?" Clem frowned, trying to wring out the information
from that.
     "Said he didn't go for girls, said he went for other boys! Said he was
one of them there sissy-boys and soon as he could, he was going to light
out for St. Louis and find himself some other sissy boys! You got to talk
to him, and right away, a'fore he decides he's ready to leave now or
something!" For a youngster of teenaged years to set out on his own wasn't
that unusual in this poor Mississippi rural area, there was little enough
to hold a child to his family's farm as it was, and if he was old enough to
work for himself, he could make a go of things well enough to make the move
out permanent. And Ben was big for his age, he could claim to be sixteen
and make it stick if he wanted to!
     "He said that to Jim?" Clem was surprised at that. "And Jim came and
told you?"
     "No, he said it to Jim and Lavonna overheard him." Jim's mother. "She
come and told us. Said that Ben tried to get Jim to do some of that sissy
stuff with him, but Jim turned him down and told him to get out and never
come back. Oh, Clem! Our boy! You got to talk to our boy, straighten him
out but good!"
     "How am I going to do that?" Clem wondered. And as his wife gave out a
wordless cry of agony, he said, "All right, all right, I'll talk to the
boy! When he comes home, that is." For Ben wasn't anywhere in their little
three-room shanty, he could see into both bedrooms easily from where he
was, sitting at the table. "Now fetch me up some of them vittles, woman,
I'm starving!"
     And it was a mark of his wife's distress that she quietly did just
that. She also left him alone the rest of that evening, putting on the
radio (his sole item of luxury in an otherwise impoverished and deprived
life) and letting him listen to the music and news and such without
talking. It gave him plenty of time to think.
     Hell, if a boy is fourteen and decides he wants men enough to try for
his best friend, he's pretty far gone that way. At half that age, it would
have been mere play, and certainly Ben and his friends at that age had made
plenty of noises in their bed at night that indicated a good deal of that
sort of play had gone on. A boy did it, grew out of it, half forgot
it...unless he couldn't stop thinking about it.
     But Ben was his only child, he and Becka couldn't have no more. Clem
was only thirty-four, if he was going to have grandchildren he could move
in with when he got too old to work for himself any longer, he had to get
them out of Ben. Becka was right, he had to talk with the boy, try whatever
he could to get the boy to give up on the sissy-boy life, at least long
enough to marry and have a child of his own. But what words could change
the mind of a fourteen-year-old man-child?
     Put the fear of God into the boy? He'd gotten enough of that in church
every Sunday and during revival meetings during the summer. Clem didn't
have nothing to add to the fire-and-brimstone sermons the boy had listened
to his entire life. Persuade him to give it up? Ben couldn't be talked into
anything these days, telling him not to do it would just make him more
determined go through with it!
     What was left? If fear of God wouldn't do it...what about fear of men?
He'd made a play for his friend and been only lightly brushed off. If
someone was to make a play for him, someone so frightening and disturbing
that he'd never be able to think of sex with another man without the memory
scaring his willy up into his nutsack and his nuts up into his body
again. He needed a big, strong, hairy man to come on to Ben, scare the holy
crap out of the boy, so badly that he'd throw himself at women in an
attempt to escape any suggestion of being a sissy. That ought to get at
least one grandchild out of his son and one was all he and Becka really
needed!
     But who could he ask to do such a thing to his own boy? Someone who
wouldn't go too far and actually fuck his boy's ass. He wanted to scare his
son, not scar him for life? Well, only emotional scars.
     Becka had hung up a full-length mirror she'd gotten from a white woman
she'd worked for, next to the radio. Sitting where he was, he could see
himself in it.
     He was a big, strong, hairy man, wasn't he? He could disguise his face
with an old rag, disguise his voice and creep into his son's bed, naked and
hard, let his son feel his throbbing steam-shovel pulsing on his stomach
and know that this man in his bed was going to try to shove it up him and
hard, hell yeah! That would scare his young bones right into a woman's bed
in no time! He might even get married by the end of the year, fourteen is
young for marriage but he could sign for it and would even if Becka would
scream...or maybe not.
     He stood up and Becka looked over at him. "Better if you light out of
here before Ben gets home." He said. "What I got to tell him won't be
nothing you want to hear."
     Becka could see the determination in his face and she smiled,
relieved. Her son was in his capable hands now and he knew what to
do. "I'll go stay over at Marva's." she said. "Don't think I could look at
Lavonna again right now, she seemed to think Ben's actions were my fault!"
     "You can come back in the morning." Clem told her. "I'll be done by
then."
     His wife donned her shawl and lit out. She wasn't gone more than ten
minutes when Ben came home, with a hang-dog expression on his face that
warmed Clem's heart. He was already halfway there. "Your Mom's gone over to
spend the night at Marva's." he told Ben. "Dinner's on the stove. Better
take it off before it burns."
     His son ate in silence, while Clem sat and listened to the radio,
looking at Ben. He was a good-looking boy all right. Any woman he asked out
would jump at the chance. Just like Becka had jumped when he'd asked her
out, ask her to bed him, asked her to marry him. Finally he got up and
turned it off. "I figure I'm going to go find me something to drink." He
told his son. "You okay being alone a few hours?"
     "Yeah, Pa." Ben's voice was listless and lifeless. Jim's rejection had
hurt the boy, he must have counted on their friendship to let him find out
what sex with a man was like. Well, Clem would show him the horror of it
all, and that would be the last lesson he'd need.
     He took his boots with him but didn't put them on, he'd want to be
stealthy here. An old seed sack made a passable hood he could wear once he
poked holes in it to see out through. He wondered if Ben would stay up late
since he wasn't home, but his mother had been dictatorial about his bedtime
enough to set his son's habits well, he was in bed in less than fifteen
minutes. Good, he didn't have to stand out here and get wet with dew.
     Next was to get himself naked. He wanted to shock his son totally, a
nude but masked intruder would rattle him to the core.
     He made it back inside in no time, no need to wait for the boy to go
to sleep, he could move like a cat when he needed to and knew all the
boards on the floor that would squeak. He padded into his son's room. Ben
was in his bed, naked as he was (nude sleep was the norm, only rich people
wore pajamas), covered only by a thin sheet with holes in it, arms thrown
over his head and looking as beautiful as Becka had back when they'd first
met. He started toward Ben, then remembered. A woodie. He needed to get his
cock hard before he climbed on, he wanted that flaming rod burning his
son's thigh as he growled at the lad.
     Ben wasn't asleep, while Clem was pumping his cock, he heard,
"Who...who are you?"
     His cock was only semi-hard, but he was on stage, time to make his
entrance. He put a deep growl in his voice, lowered as best he could. "I
hear you're one of them sissy boys!"
     "Huh?" Ben reached over and turned up the coal-oil lamp at his
bedside, he must have simply turned the flame down so low it was a bare
ember giving no real light, now it was lighting the entire room. Well, Clem
had a hood on his face, he was a naked black man with a mask and nothing
else to his son.
     "I hear tell you're one of those sissy boys!" Clem grabbed the sheet
and yanked it off his son's body, his son had hold of the top of it but his
strength let him wrest it from that softer grasp easily. "I figured I'd
come here and get me some of that hot young tail of yours!"
     "You want...you want to make love to me?"
     "Love, hell!" Clem growled as he climbed onto the bed with his
son. "I'm here to fuck your ass, boy! Get them pretty legs up over your
head so I can shove it up your butt!"
     And he lowered himself onto his son's body, the warmth feeling good
after the cool spring air outside, and he pressed his cock up against his
son's soft stomach so that the lad could feel the hot tool there. He wasn't
completely hard, but he was thick enough that the boy was going to realize
that he was in some serious shit!
     "You want to fuck me?"
     "Damn right I do!" Clem grunted. "Now, you going to lift them legs up
around me or do I have to lift them up for you?"
     Ben was silent for about two seconds, then he gave a soft moan and his
legs parted beneath Clem and to his father's consternation, he actually
wrapped his legs around Clem's waist. "Okay, go ahead." he panted into his
father's startled ear. "I'm ready."
     What the fuck was he to do now. Clem stalled. "You don't want to get
this monster slicked up first, little boy?" he choked out. "It's going to
hurt like hell no matter what, but it'll hurt less if you suck on it some
first."
     He took that to raise himself up on his knees and hover over his
son. Give the boy a chance to squirm out and run.
     Well, Ben squirmed all right, but instead of up and out and on his
feet and out the door in terror, his son slid down further and his hand
caught hold of Clem's cock and then he was shoving it into his mouth.
     Clem was agog as that warm young mouth caught and swallowed him. His
son really was a sissy-boy, that mouth wasn't hesitant, it was downright
eager! But he had to force this, scare his son with the idea of sex with a
man! So he made himself reach down and grab his son's head roughly, saying,
"If you're going to suck it, suck it right!" And he made himself force his
son's face up and down on his prong.
     Ben choked a time or two but he didn't pull off or fight the
onslaught, and his actions on Clem's prong became more and more
adept. Clem's dong got hard as hell, shit, his boy was loving the taste of
his prick, sucking on it now even though he stopped yanking his son's head
up and down, and now Ben was busily slurping on his dad's pud, his eyes
looking up at his father's body, soaking in the fact that he was here, he
was making love to another man, Clem could almost hear him thinking yes,
yes, at last, at last!
     Hell, his son wasn't supposed to love sucking his cock! He was
supposed to be scared shitless! What the fuck was he going to do?
Maybe... "Time for me to fuck your butt!"
     His son didn't stop sucking him and Clem grabbed his son's head and
yanked it off his prong. "I said it's time for me to fuck your ass!"
     "Huh? Oh! Yeah!"
     He had no choice, he had to fuck his son hard enough to make him
regret the very idea, make him think that all sex with men was awful,
painful, humiliating and nothing to be repeated. He needed to shove it in
and shove it in hard!
     His son was looking at him with an innocent-like wonder, like Clem was
the answer to his every dream. And Ben had rolled back onto his back and
was holding up both arms and both legs, like an upside-down table, for him
to lie down upon.
     "That's my little fuck-toy!" he snarled. "Get ready for me to ram you
but good!"
     "Yes, please, fuck me, please!" Ben begged. "I never done it before,
but I want you to, honest I do!"
     "It's going to hurt like hell, and you'll have to put up with it!"
Clem said as he got into position. Now his son was wrapping himself about
his body, pushing his butt up into Clem's groin area. All he had to do now
was get his cock lined up just right and push and....
     And Ben's hands caught hold of his Dad's buttocks and pulled him
down. Clem found his cock pressing against Ben's buttocks, not quite right
in place, though, he was simply being pushed against his son's
bottom-flesh.
     "Come on, get it in me, get it in me!" Ben grunted as he kept pulling
on Clem's ass, trying to force his father's cock into his butt.
     "Hold on just a moment, son, I'm not in you none." Clem groaned. "I
got to get it in position."
     Ben turned loose and Clem lifted up slightly, Ben's hand slid in
between them and guided his father's cock to his asshole. Clem felt the
indentation of flesh and Ben gasped. "Ah, that's got it."
     "Now I'm going to push it into you, and damned hard. Maybe if you beg
me, I won't do this!" Clem temporized.
     "No, no, fuck me!" and Ben's hands again caught his buttocks and
pulled his father toward him again.
     There was a rush of hot wetness as Clem's cock was yanked down into
his son's ass. Ben let out a yell like he was being murdered, but his hands
didn't stop. Damn, this was a rough fuck! Why wasn't the kid backing off?
He ought to be yelling for mercy now!
     "Feel that hard cock, boy? You want this cock in you to start fucking
you?"
     "Yeah, yeah, oh, yeah!" Ben crooned. "God, yes, come on, fuck me,
shit, yeah, fuck me hard!"
     "I'm going to, I'm going to fuck your ass but good." Clem couldn't
bring himself to move! He had his cock in his son's ass, he could feel how
much it must have torn his son's ass, how much of that wetness was blood?
Why wasn't his son not howling at him to stop?
     "So come on, fuck me!" was his son's response instead. "You got it in
me, why are you waiting?"
     "You sure you want me to do this?"
     "Come on, fuck me!"
     Clem was floundering. When had he gone from erswhile rapist to the
passive partner? "Well, now, maybe I don't want to fuck you right away."
     His son's response was to begin to buck in Clem's embrace, forcing his
body back and forth and making that cock slide in and out of his ass. Not
as much as it could have, but enough to make his prick hum happily. Shit,
how long had it been since he and Becka had had sex anyhow? Damned near
twelve days now! He'd jerked off about three days ago in his bathtub, but
that was no substitution to the old in-and-out.
     Now he was getting it, and from a body a hell of a lot like his wife
had been when they'd first made love. And was he really stopping his son
from wanting sex with another man? Hell, no!
     So he began to hunch at his son, fucking him and his son stopped and
let him take charge. "Yeah, come on, that's it, oh, God!"
     "How do you like it, boy?" Clem made one last try. "You like this cock
up your ass?"
     "Yeah, oh, yeah!"
     "Then how about this?" And Clem began to ram his cock in and out, hard
as he could, fucking his son's still-raw butt. Trying to make it hurt!
     But nothing he did was fazing his son, Ben just grunted and shifted
and his ass opened wider to let him fuck it better. Was his son not a
virgin? "I thought you'd never had a man's cock in your ass before?"
     "I haven't." his son groaned. "But oh, God, it just feels so good!"
     "You like having me fuck you?" Clem asked incredulously.
     "I love it!" Ben gushed. "Come on, really give it to me!"
     Nothing else for it, Clem had to finish this. Not that his cock was
complaining at all, fucking your son's ass was better than nothing! Better
than his wife, even, as she'd been simply enduring him the last several
times, so much so that he'd begun to stop trying for it. This butt was
willing, loving his dong. Becka had loved it once, and she'd shown it, now
she didn't and showed that as well. Ben was loving his cock, and it showed,
oh, God damn, it showed so fucking much!
     And he was reaching his climax. "Oh, ah, God damn you little fuck-toy,
I'm going to come in your ass! Are you ready for this, boy? Are you ready
to take my come?"
     "Yes, oh, God, yes!"
     Clem felt his climax boiling up inside him. "Here it comes, here it
comes! Ah, AH-HAH-AH-GAH, AH-HAHHHHHHHH, GUHHHHH!"
     His long-denied dong exploded inside his son's ass with a fury he
hadn't felt since his own teenaged years. Ben was looking up into his eyes
and as he came, Ben's own eyes scrunched up and Clem felt Ben's own prick
start spraying him liberally with hot adolescent jizz, he was making his
son come by his own ejaculation! The experience was heady for Clem, he had
mastered this moment, controlled not only his own pleasure, but his son's!
     "Oh, oh, ah, gah, uh, Son, oh, God, yeah, Son, yeah!" He groaned in
his delirium of his joy.
     "Oh, ah, ah, uh, uh, uh......uh? Dad?"
     "Oh, yeah, ah, yeah!"
     "Dad?" his son gasped. "Is that you?"
     "Huh! Uh! Uh! No, I'm not your father, I'm...." But Ben's hands were
so quick still, now they had hold of his crude hood, Clem had had to cut it
deeply to make it fit over his head without bagging out at his shoulders
and it slid off far too easily, and Clem was looking, bare-faced, into his
son's own.
     "Oh, shit!" was all he could manage.
     "God, Dad, it was you?" Ben moaned. "Oh, God!"
     Clem just pulled his cock out of his son's ass and got the hell out of
there! Ran into his own bedroom and got into bed, pulled the covers over
him. Pretend the whole mess never happened!
     He kept waiting for his son to come into his room after him, but he
was left alone, making that night the longest night he'd ever had.
     He woke up the next morning to the smell of breakfast. Becka had
returned and was cooking up ham and eggs. "You have a talk with Ben last
night?" she asked after a time.
     "Yeah, but it didn't turn out the way I thought." Clem said. "Not the
way I figured at all."
     "So what..." Becka cut off, because Ben was coming in for his own
breakfast.
     He sat at his own place to Clem's right and said, "Morning,
Mom. Morning, Pa."
     "Morning, Son." Becka answered. And after a time of silence, she went
on. "You have a good night's sleep?"
     "Yeah, pretty good." Ben answered. "Took a while, though, to drift
off."
     And with that oblique reference to last night, Clem felt Ben's hand on
his leg. It landed on his mid-thigh, but slid up to his basket and cupped
it. He looked over to see his son smiling, giving him a broad wink.
     "I understand you and your Dad had a talk last night." Becka probed
again.
     "Yeah." Clem said. "But I think we still have more to talk about."
     "That's what I like to hear." Becka said, bringing over their
breakfasts. "You two ought to have a talk like that every night. Long as
you two are talking, everything will turn out all right."
     "I do think it will." Clem agreed, and dug into his eggs.

                             THE END
               Comments, complaints or suggestions?
             E-mail the Author at Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
                   WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM