I needed something to break a severe case of writer's block with, so I accepted this little challenge. I've never written an incestuous story before, so this is virgin territory for me. Still, I'm kind of fond of the result. Hope you like it, too. Please don't read if doing so means you break any local laws, or if you are of a closed mind. The story is entirely fictional, and any likeness with any real events or persons, alive or dead, are entirely your fault. Be glad I don't sue you! :)
As usual, all thoughts and comments are more than welcome to winterimage@hotmail.com.

A Perfect Love
by Winter

What does the end of all things sound like? In my case, it was the monotonous chiming of the bell, each strike racking my tiny body with pain. Should it all really end when you're just seven years old? It wasn't fair! I watched, dry-eyed after having cried out every tears I could possibly ever have, as the casket was lowered into the ground, and I felt that love, comfort and happiness was gone from me forever. Then he put his hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently as he whispered in my ear.

"It'll be all right, son. It'll be all right."

I wanted to scream at him, to shout at the top of my lungs. `How can it be all right!? She's gone!!' But I stayed quiet, just patting his hand. I knew he would be mourning every bit as much as I did, if not more. I mean, she was the love of his life, his wife. To me, she was just mother. I bit my lip. This wasn't the time for being sarcastic, or feeling self-pity. Mom was dead, she had finally given up the struggle, and I was standing there feeling sorry for myself. She's the one I should feel sorry about. And dad... He'd put up a brave face, but I knew that he was hurting. I'd seen him cry so many times during the last couple of days, but always when he thought I wasn't looking. Even now, he tried to spare me his part of the grief, and I loved him so much more for it. I took his hand and squeezed it back.

"Yeah, dad, it'll be all right." I felt the first tear since the funeral ceremony began trickle down my cheek. "It has to be."


When we got home again I had cried myself out, and was so tired I felt like I'd drop dead at any moment. Dad rubbed my shoulders for a little while and then turned me around to face him. He had tears in his eyes as he pulled me into a tight hug, and that set me off again.

"Dad, I don't wanna sleep alone tonight," I sobbed. "Can I sleep in your bed, please?"

"Of course you can, Jimmy." He patted my back, then looked into my eyes and smiled. "Tell you what, I don't feel like being alone either."

Sniffling, I still managed to return his smile as he picked me up and carried me upstairs. I looked around, and found to my amazement that everything suddenly seemed different. Like it wasn't a home anymore. The house felt like a tomb, like a place where happiness had no chance to exist. Dad must have noticed my distress, because as he put me down on his and mom's bed he stroke a tuft of hair out of my eyes.

"Do you want to move out?" he asked, with a serious look on his face. "I think I do. The memories are painful."

I nodded. "Yeah. But where could we go?"

"I don't know, son. We'll see what happens tomorrow, okay? I'm so tired."

"Me too. Do I have to put on my pyjamas?"

He chuckled. "Did I ever force you to? Go brush your teeth now, okay?"

I stood up and slipped out of my black suit, folding everything neatly away while I secretly wished I'd never have to wear them again. Naked as the day I was born, I scuttled over to my own bathroom while dad went into his. A couple of minutes later, I snuggled up to him under the comforter while he turned out the bedside light. As I closed my eyes and breathed in the scent of his freshly soaped body, I felt my fears and sorrows temporarily wash away. He put an arm across my chest, and I felt safer than ever before. I reached up to kiss his cheek, feeling his lips brush mine in return.

"Good night, Jimmy. Try not to have bad dreams, okay?"

"Okay. Good night dad, I love you."

"Love you too, son."


At some time during the night I opened my eyes, yawning, believing that dad was shaking me, trying to wake me up. Once I had my bearings, though, I could see by the street light that his eyes were still closed. He was holding me close to him, stroking my back while he was mumbling how much he loved me. At first, I felt flattered, then sorrowful as I realised he must be dreaming about mom. I reached out to touch his cheek, trying to wake him up gently, but that must have fitted perfectly into his dream. With a loud sigh, he grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me. I was so shocked I gasped, and as I opened my mouth I felt his tongue enter it. For a couple of seconds I had no idea what to do, then I tried to resist. No use. My mom had been a strong woman before she fell ill, and he was acting as if it was her he was holding, and not a scrawny boy. I had no way to break the kiss, so I did the only thing I could think of. I kissed him back, moving my tongue against his, even pushing it a little bit into his mouth. It was a heavenly feeling. I felt so loved, so close to my father at that moment that for a second, I forgot all about our tragedy, and just enjoyed what was happening. Then he hugged me closer to him, and I could feel his stiff penis push against my thigh, straining against the fabric of his boxers. I got a little scared then, not really knowing what to do, but since he made no further moves, I just got back into the kissing. He felt a bit wet against my bare thigh, and I was briefly wondering in he had peed himself. Then he started rubbing it against me, and I felt it slip out of his boxer fly. Meanwhile, his hands were all over me, stroking and caressing me, even moving down to rub at my bottom. Our kiss got more intense, and for some reason I couldn't fathom, I got all hard, too. I pushed back against him, rubbing myself against his stomach and loving every second of it. Then, without a warning, he broke the kiss, leaving me grunting for more. For a minute he thrashed about, rolling over to lie on his back, and almost pulling the comforter off of us. I couldn't stop myself; I had to see him, so I sat up and pushed it the last of the way until it fell to the floor. Then I sat there gaping. He was huge, at least compared to anything I had ever seen, and completely stiff. The head peeked out of his foreskin, glistening with wetness, and I reached over to touch it. But before I could get my hand on it, he drew a deep breath and opened his eyes. I quickly rolled over to face away from him, pretending to be asleep. The bed bounced slightly as he sat up, and then he placed the comforter over me again, tucking me in. Still with my eyes closed, I purred and moved back towards him, but he didn't lie back down again. Instead, I could hear some whispered mutterings, followed by a near-silent sob. I opened my eyes and pretended to yawn, then sat up and leaned against him.

"Are you all right, dad?" I thought about all the things he had done to me. "Did you have a dream?"


"What about?"

"I... can't really remember." I could tell he was lying. "It was about your mother at first, then about you."

"Oh. What were we doing?" He squirmed a bit, and I had to stifle a giggle. "Did it wake you up?"

"Yes." He turned to me and tousled my hair. "But I'm okay now. Just a little sad."

"Me too, dad." I pushed against him, and he put an arm around my shoulder. I could see that he had stuffed his penis back inside his boxers, but it was still a bit hard. "But I'm glad we have each other."

"So am I, Jimmy." He pushed me back down onto the pillow, then kissed my forehead. "So am I."


During the year that followed my mother's funeral, I kept sleeping in the same bed as my father, even after we moved to a smaller house almost on the other side of town. What had happened that night never repeated itself, though, much to my relief, since it had scared me a little, but also to my chagrin, since I had really liked it at the time. I touched him at night every now and then, just light brushes across his chest or soft kisses on his face or his lips, half hoping that I could bring back that dream. He had said he had dreamed of me, and I wondered if he had dreamed of kissing me, and if he would do it again, when we were both awake. That was the bit I had like the most. I also wondered whether or not he knew that he had kissed me. He had looked a little guilty in the morning, but since I didn't say or do anything out of the ordinary, he quickly relaxed. Maybe he was ashamed of himself, or of me for having responded. I didn't know, and I was afraid to ask. And as I turned nine, I began to slowly drift back to sleeping in my own bed, first for maybe half a night, then after a while weeks running. Dad didn't seem to mind, and neither did I. True, I missed the comfort of our closeness, but I had given up hope of ever getting to kiss him like that again. Instead, the nights when I did sleep with him became ever more precious. It was often when I'd had a nightmare that I'd scoot over to his room and slip in beneath the comforter. Sometimes he'd not notice it when I snuggled up to him, but sometimes he would hold me close to him as we drifted back to sleep. Those times were bliss to me.


Shortly after I had turned ten, my grandfather on my dad's side had a light stroke, and had to spend a couple of days in the hospital. Everything turned out okay, but it brought back memories and fear I hardly knew I had any longer, and I turned slightly panicky. During those days, and for a couple of weeks after that, I hardly dared to leave dad's side. I was so afraid he would turn ill, too, and I was only just able to go to school, not to mention letting him go to work. To help me out, he let me share his bed again, even though there was still no more kissing, and he let me call him at work at any time, even buying me a cell phone of my own, to help me feel more secure. It worked, and I was soon able to return to normal, even though I was very reluctant to return to sleeping in my own bed. I had realised just how much I had missed lying close to him, feeling his body heat and smelling his slightly sweaty body in the morning. I realised that I often, during those weeks, woke up all stiff during the night or in the morning, and my dreams were often quite erotic. In those dreams, I remembered that night in every detail, but my subconscious also changed some of the setting. Sometimes, we were both awake, yet still kissing like crazy, and other times I did reach his rigid penis, and got to feel it in my hand, stroking it while he slept on. When I woke up after such a dream, I usually had to dash to the bathroom before I climaxed and shouted out my pleasure. I think dad realised that I often masturbated, but I don't think he had any idea that I was fantasising about him. I often thought about telling him, but I knew what the kids at school were saying about gays, and having erotic dreams about your father was a gay thing, wasn't it? And I had no idea how he would react if he knew his only son was gay. So I kept it all to myself. For a whole three more months.


The school year had just ended, and I had two months of freedom in front of me. Two months to spend goofing around with my friends during the day, then spend the evenings with dad. He had half promised me a vacation somewhere, and I looked forward to it. I was hoping we'd go camping, but I'd settle for almost anything as long as we could be together. By this time, I had come to terms with being totally in love with my dad. Not just father/son love, but all out starry-eyed romantic love. Thoughts of sex were there, but they weren't very important to me. As long as I could be together with him I was content, not to say happy. The first week of the summer holiday went by in a flash, following my plan almost to the letter, but then Friday came. I was sitting in front of the house, as usual, waiting for dad to come home. I was going to ask him to take me out to eat, then to see a movie, planning it just like it was a date. To me, it kind of was. But as he got home, I noticed something else was on his mind. He barely returned my hug, and as we got inside he asked me to join him in the living room for a talk. As he changed out of his work clothes I went ahead and sat down on the couch. I felt jittery, not knowing what to expect. Had he found out I was gay? Impossible. Nobody knew about that. Did he know that I had been awake that night, and would he chastise me for it now? If so, then why hadn't he done that ages ago? Was there something wrong at his job? As far as I knew, th bank he worked at did well, and had no plans to lay people off. Was he cancelling our vacation? Nothing to about that, if that was the case. Sure, it would be a disappointment, but at least we would be at home together. Right? I was chewing my fingernails when he returned and sat down with a deep sigh. I could tell that he really didn't want to talk about whatever was on his mind, and it scared me. I couldn't keep quiet.

"Dad, is something wrong?"

"No, James, nothing's wrong." Alarm bells went off inside my head. He only called me James when I was in deep trouble, and I felt myself sinking lower into the couch. He noticed this, and gave me a reassuring smile. "Nothing's wrong, there's just something I need to talk to you about."

"Okay," I answered meekly.

"Jimmy, I want to go out tonight."

"You do?" I lit up. He was just pulling my leg! "Great! Can we catch a movie? Then have dinner somewhere? I'll go and get ready!"

"No, Jimmy, you don't understand..." His words stopped me as I was getting up, but it was the strained tone in his voice and the look of pain in his face that made me shiver. "Jimmy, please come and sit with me." I slowly walked over to sit on his lap. He hugged me warmly. "A couple of guys at work are going out together, to a bar downtown, and they asked me to come along. I've refused for so long, but... I can't hide behind Melissa's death anymore."

I sat there completely speechless. There was really nothing to say. Of course he had the right to go out on his own. I was a bit disappointed, of course, but it didn't explain why he was looking so distressed. Before I could think of anything to say, he went on.

"Jimmy, I want to start dating. There's a woman in the office who's very sweet and attractive, and Will says she'll be at the bar tonight, for sure." He looked into my eyes, but I quickly looked away. "I think she likes me. I hope it's okay with you."

"But dad... why?" I could hear my voice break. "I thought you loved mom."

"I did, son, never doubt that. But it's been three years, and I can't mourn all my life." He hugged me again, and I felt a shiver run through him. He was so afraid of my reaction. "Jimmy, life feels so empty without someone to love."

"Don't you love me?"

"Oh, of course I do!" He lifted my chin and forced me to look into his eyes. I could see that he meant it. "I'll always love you more than anything else, but a man has... other needs."

"You mean sex?" This time, it was he who looked away, and I could swear he was blushing slightly.

"Yes, but not just that. It's the closeness. To have someone to make love to, but also someone to hold, to kiss and to wake up with every morning."

"But..." I felt a cold hand grab hold of my heart. I knew he was right, but the thought of sharing him with someone else was just... horrifying. My eyes quickly flooded, despite every attempt I did to stop myself from crying. "But dad..."

"Oh Jimmy, please don't cry!" He stroked the tears off my cheeks, but new ones were waiting to take their place. "Jimmy, we'll just get together a couple of times, to see if it works out. Listen to me, I'm not abandoning you, not now, not ever! It's just... I need..."

"Dad..." I decided to play out all my cards, no matter what might happen. "Dad, do you know I love you? Very much. All those things... you can have them. I could..."

"Oh, son!" He crushed me against his chest, sobbing into my ear as he hugged me. I returned the fierce caress. "Jimmy, I know you love me! But I..."

"Even the sex, dad." He gasped, then leaned back and gazed into my eyes. I did my best to look sincere. "I mean it, every word. I love you, dad, just the way you say you need."

"But son..." He was suddenly pale as a ghost, his mouth working to find the right words. "We... we can't..."

"Why not? You said you love me more than anything." I leaned in to kiss him lightly on the lips before he could react. "Why can't you let me love you back?"

"Y-you don't know what you're saying, Jimmy." He licked his lips involuntarily, then shuddered as he realised what I had just done. "H-how long have you..."

"I've always loved you, dad." I felt the waterworks start again, but I knew I had to finish this. "But ever since the night after the funeral..."

"My dream..."

"Yeah. Dad, you woke me up when you hugged me, then you kissed me. It was the most wonderful moment of my life." He closed his eyes, his entire body shivering. "I know you were dreaming of mom, but you were kissing me. I've wanted that to happen again for more than three years. Dad, it can't be wrong! I love you so much."

"Jimmy, I... I never knew you felt like that. A-are you... you know..."

"Gay?" He nodded. "Honestly, I'm not sure. I guess I must be, but you're really the only one I've ever loved. The only one I've ever wanted to have sex with."

"Jimmy, please..."

"It's true, dad." I caught his gaze, then grinned. "Can't we see if it works out?"


He tried, but couldn't suppress a smile of his own. The smile turned into laughter, and soon we were both hugging our sides to keep from splitting. Reassured by his reaction, I leaned forward and kissed him again, this time slipping the tip of my tongue in between his lips. For a split second, he tensed up, then relaxed and let me continue. Seconds turned into minutes, and then he started to respond. I all but howled with joy as our kiss turned passionate, and his hands started to caress my back, all the way down to my shorts-clad bottom. I broke the kiss and put all my heart into the stare I gave him. He gasped at the sheer intensity, then pulled me back in to kiss me again. We rolled over to lie down on the couch, our hands now running all over our chests and stomachs. He moaned as I touched his nipple, then returned the caress, making me squirm with delight. I was hard as a rock, and unable to stop myself from grinding my penis into his hip. At the same time, I let my hand slip into his track suit trousers, rubbing against his own slowly hardening member. His only response was to break the kiss for a second, then renew it even more intensely, and I felt like the last border was passed. My hand found its way into his boxers, and I could finally feel his penis in my hand. It was burning hot, and fully erect now it was hard as steel, but at the same time velvety soft to the touch. I moaned loudly into his mouth, pushing my own erection into him with renewed vigour. He groaned back as I started stroking him in earnest, feeling the tip starting to get wet. So it hadn't been pee that time. An adult thing, I decided, and abandoned all conscious thought. Acting on pure instinct, but still knowing what felt good for myself, I pulled his foreskin back and forth, spreading the slickness across the head. Occasionally, I would brush against his sac, causing him to moan even louder. I felt my own orgasm approaching, so I broke the kiss and laid my head down on his chest, wriggling his penis out of his trousers so I could see what I was doing. The sight was incredible, but what got to me most was the smell. He smelled of man, there's no other description that fits, and it was so intoxicating I nearly fainted. I touched the tip of his penis with my free hand, then brought my fingers up to my nose to get a closer whiff. Unable to resist, I licked at my index finger, and now I knew for sure it wasn't pee. The taste was a little salty, but mostly sweet, and so arousing it immediately triggered my orgasm, by far the most powerful one I'd ever had. I thrashed about, moaning and squealing as waves of intense pleasure coursed through my body, so strong they were almost painful. I felt tears of happiness well up in my eyes, and I cried out loud as I peaked. Still, I kept my grip on his throbbing erection, and just as my pleasure reached its maximum, dad thrust up into my hand.

"Oh Jimmy!" he yelled. "Jimmy, I'm coming!"

And he did. I opened my eyes just in time to see the head of his penis swell up. The slit opened and contracted once, twice, then he shot a string of semen right into my face. I knew what it was, and I also knew I was the one who made it happen. Pride and happiness quickly pushed aside the tiny bit of my brain that said this must be gross, and I opened my mouth just as the second jet hit me. The taste was beyond this world! I kept stroking him, hoping to catch some more, but the rest of it stayed on his stomach. Only too late did it occur to me that I should have moved my head, but instead I licked my way down to his still pulsating member, licking the last drops directly from the slit. My own experience with masturbating told me that the head turned sensitive just after orgasm, so I let go of him and cleaned off my fingers with my tongue. Dad lay still with his eyes closed, and I could hear his heart pumping inside his chest, and his breathing was faster than when we had finished one of our jogging rounds. The look on his face was one of pure bliss, and as he opened his eyes, the look he gave me was a warm one, filled with love. Then he laughed.

"You look horrible!"

I touched my face and realised it was covered in semen. I laughed too, then licked off as much as I could reach with my tongue. Then I tried to use my fingers, but he pushed my hands away. Instead, he kissed and licked my face clean, sharing every drop with me in another passionate kiss that seemed to go on for hours. When he finally broke it, the tension we had been feeling earlier was completely gone. When he spoke, his voice was soft and gentle.

"That was something I thought I'd never do."

"What, dad?"

"Tasting my own cum, let alone sharing it with another male. Hell, kissing another male! And my own son, on top of that!"

"Dad, don't freak ut on me, please!" He looked into my eyes, and I realised that he wouldn't. He was just joking. I hugged him and whispered into his ear. "I loved it, every second of it. Thanks, dad."

"No, thank you, son. Know what, I think I'll go and call the evening off." He grinned at me. "Then we'll go catch `The Two Towers', you and I. How about it?"

"What about finding the love you need?" I asked, not really able to hide the joy that was screaming inside me.

"Oh, that!" He got up, and swatted my butt to get me moving. I squealed, then run ahead of him as he headed for his bedroom to get changed. "Well, we'll see how it works out."