Date: Thu, 24 Apr 2003 20:47:12 EDT
From: KissAndCuddleGem@aol.com
Subject: Camping Capers With My Grandpa (Installment 6)

This story is purely a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons
living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely
coincidental.

Moreover, none of the actions of the characters in this story is presented
with the intent to condone, approve, or sanction their behavior.

The above-expressed disclaimer also does apply to any and all installments
of this story, including those preceding and following this installment.

All questions and/or comments are welcome; and, if you wish to contact me,
please feel free to email me at: KissAndCuddleGem@AOL.COM; and I will most
definitely respond to email, as appropriate.


"This is ridiculous, absolute insanity.", I thought to myself.  I wondered
what I was trying to prove by this charade of going to my son's room to
spend the night while he slept blissfully without even as much as a word
coming from his lips beforehand right in the comfort of my own bed.

"Oh, I know what this is about: I want to be saintly and pristine and pure,
just as Cousin Georgia was in my eyes right up through her wedding day.
Well, sorry, Grandma, I am not Cousin Georgia; and odds are this attempt to
evade my own lustful desires is just not going to work."  As I heard this,
I was shocked.  I began to wonder: "Was I losing it just as my own dad had
years ago?"

While ranting and raving as above, I threw open the door to my son's room
and burst in as if expecting to find someone right there in his bed.  I
walked right in to the center of the room; and right there, on the bed, was
a dusty line-paper book with a yellowish cover and a broken, dented lock at
its side: I recognized this within seconds as the journal I had kept while
living with Grandma and Grandpa, a journal that contained all of the things
I shared with Grandpa, all of the secrets I swore to him I'd keep.  "Wait a
minute, I mean there could be an innocent explanation for all of this, some
kind of a mistake or something.", I tried to convince myself not very
convincingly.

Then I saw color pencils scattered about amid strewn sheets of papers with
multi-colored shaded sketches.  I picked these up all in one shot, looking
at each one over and over till I just could not stand it.  "Oh, this is a
cause for celebration, we have an artist, no, better yet, an illustrator in
the family.", I said with biting sarcasm in my tone.  Then I saw a box of
rubbers lying nearby, just a bit away from the far edge of the bed.  I felt
sickened by what I saw, utterly and totally nauseated; and I collapsed on
the bed sobbing.  "This was one of the most humiliating, if not most
humiliating, invasions of my privacy in my entire life.", I was thinking.
Then it all sort of sank in more fully; and I saw more and more this: that
not only was my son "getting his jollies" by drawing scenes of Grandpa and
I depicting our private times and sexual relations while all alone
together; but that he was jacking off to drawings of these, probably doing
this night after night in some form, well, nighttime at the very least most
probably.  I ripped the robe off me during my fit of hysteria and threw it
onto the floor, thinking at the time I was aiming for the window.  Then I
grabbed the pillow and hugged it tightly against my torso; and I was
hugging it this way until I drifted off to sleep, still very much in a
fetal position all throughout my repose.

I woke up about a half an hour or so later, feeling a bit disoriented but
no longer out of control.  I just thought of all that I was absorbing this
way: "Well, I think it is high time I start focusing a bit of 'attention'
on that son of mine, that mischievous son of mine, the one despite all of
this I still love.  This certainly must all somehow be related to me
wasting my time, drifting back into the past and absorbed in my reveries
about things best left in the past."

I wanted to go right into my room that very moment and confront my son
about all that he knew about me and my relationship with Grandpa; and also
very private things that my father, this man named Steve I ended up with
time loving again as a father, shared with me during my college years: The
stories that he told me of "incidents", as he put it, between his
"grandpappy" and him from when he was twelve and until he was nineteen.
Yet I felt weak, drained, and still very much like this all over again: the
same young lad I once was who sat and prayed with his Aunt Charlotte but
could not even confide such personal things in this lady he genuinely loved
almost like a mother.

So I found my robe, slung it over my right shoulder, and composed myself as
best I could, wobbling back into my own room.  I sat on the bed,
dumbfounded about Kenny, Jr. still being fast asleep: I suddenly thought
that perhaps my shrewd son was feigning sleep, not very original I had to
say but not a bad performance if that were the case all and all.

I decided that I would have a bit of "fun" with Kenny.  I gripped his hips
and pulled down those bikini briefs of his.  I was pleased with what I saw:
a nice large sac, above-average-sized balls resembling medium-sized
meatballs and with one descended slightly lower than the other.  Then an
image in my mind halted me from going further: Jeffie looking at me in
judgment, not a young Jeffie but this grown-up I now had as still a very
important part of my life: this "Uncle Jeff", to my young Kenny here.

As I was about to cover Kenny, Jr. with an extra blanket and leave the
room, Kenny, Jr., almost to my amazement, awakened.  He saw his "state" and
stated: "Dad, I mean, I guess we...."

"No...actually, we did not...not yet anyway, I just wanted you to
realize...."

"Well, Dad, I know I really should not have just dropped in like this, but
I want you to know that I know....."

"I know that you know, I saw....I saw everything."

Kenny, Jr.'s jaw dropped, his eyes then fell to the floor.

"It's okay, I am not angry with you right now.  I have to speak with you
about certain things, but, for now, we are cool.  The rest can wait."

"Well, Dad, do you want to...you know...then?"

After a moment or two of complete silence, I simply nodded in agreement.
Yes, I knew deep inside that things had gone too far.  I knew that I wanted
to, on some level; and yet did not want to, on some other level.  I knew
that I had once swore that the sordid family history that was a part of my
life and even my own father's life was not going to be a part of my own
son's life.  Still, there was this force within me, this power greater than
myself that made my loins tingle in anticipation and kept my member
throbbing, pulsating, and expanding all with a vitality that was pure magic
for me.  So, yes, I relented, I gave in, completely unconcerned about ever
turning back:

"Oh, Dad...", Kenny, Jr. began.  He was obviously a bit nervous, even
shaking.  I gently placed my palm under his chin, stroking it, saying
soothingly: "Relax, son, now we make love, it will be just fine, really."

I helped Kenny, Jr. remove the briefs at his ankles; and re-positioned the
teen, so that he was this: nice and snug under my light queen-sized
blanket, wrapped tightly in my arms, and lying completely under me, his
chest pressed closely against my upper torso.  I began to jiggle my love
handles against his abs and slowly, methodically grind my turned-upward
cock, now fully hard, into his pubes: I remembered to do the arousing
slightly thrusting motion with my man-tool, right after the above, working
it carefully just under the area of Kenny, Jr.'s ball sac and between the
ball sac and his sweet hole, this move being "a lesson" that I had learned
from Grandpa in my own prubescent years.

Kenny began to moan and eventually shout: "Oh...yeah, I like that, I really
like that."

But, suddenly, he began to squirm nervously, unaccustomed it seemed to the
numerous sensations unraveling within him.

"Relax, Kenny...please," I pleaded.  The words sounded oddly familiar; and
suddenly I realized that those were the very same ones my Grandpa had years
ago used with me.  Strangely, this realization turned me on, increasing my
arousal to even more.

"Wait...", Kenny began as I was hungrily flipping him over onto his belly.

It was a bit too late for anything like that, I was totally into it all and
thoroughly enjoying myself: Yes, I would please my Kenny, really, really
please him in every way imaginable and some perhaps even beyond that.  I
wanted to show him just how much I loved him, yes, loved him, just like
Grandpa showed me how much he loved me.

I was kissing the nape of his neck and enjoying its mildly hairy brush
against my cheeks.  I then began to softly kiss his lips after turning his
head to the side, sometimes gently opening his lips and gliding my tongue
in.

Kenny began making cooing sounds of pleasure.  I marveled at his buns: They
were truly extraordinary, an image of molded perfection: I noted that it
was simply a masterpiece of a bubble butt and believed that there never
would be one quite like this to so behold.

"Dad, I love you, I really do.  I truly do."

"I know, Kenny, I know, but right now I just want to enjoy this hot beefy
butt before me; and truly show you the time of your life."

"But, Dad, I mean I was just goofing around, you know that, right, I mean
going through your things like that...I was just curious, please don't hurt
me."

"Kenny, what the hell are you talking about?  I told you that I was not
angry, I would never make love to you while angry."

"Yeah, Dad, I know, but I am not ready for this...we will have plenty of
time together, I just want it all to be perfect."

I really almost did not hear his words.  I was sort of mesmerized by the
beauty of his ass-cheeks and I was busily caressing them and stroking my
cock teasingly against his ass crack.

Well, anyway, I decided it would be best to save something for later on.
So we frolicked together under the blanket and passionately kissed, licked,
and sucked each other all over each other's bodies.  I could see from the
way Kenny, Jr. was licking around the head of my cock that he had had some
type of experience in all likelihood somewhere.  But I really did not care,
as either way we were each other's now.

We fell asleep sometime after 6:00 AM, safely nestled in each other's
embrace, with Kenny, Jr.'s lips still wrapped around my left nipple.  "It
was perfect, it was special.", I thought to myself all throughout the
afternoon that followed.  Yes, I had indeed given in, but Kenny, Jr. gave
in as well: I mean I saw for myself what had been on his mind, what he was
fantasizing about doing himself or having done to himself.  Grandpa and our
"camping capers" had perhaps tainted my soul: But, for whatever reason, I
no longer cared about any of that: I wanted to feel loved again, just like
I felt loved by my beautiful Lulu; and I wanted my beautiful son, from my
very own seed, to feel loved, so very loved, by me.

The next evening I had a long "chat" with Kenny, Jr. and explained to him
as best I could about how I also loved Uncle Jeff, but in a different way
than I loved him; and that for my younger brother's frequent and
much-enjoyed visits to continue, he must never, ever reveal anything about
our relationship to my sibling.  Kenny, Jr. swore on my life that our
relationship and relations would all remain a secret strictly between the
two of us.

But what I did not know at the time is that this beloved "Uncle Jeff" was
on his way to join us yet again much sooner than expected and had some
plans of his own.