Date: Sat, 6 May 2017 07:06:52 -0700
From: Boy Mercury X <boymercuryx@gmail.com>
Subject: Cooperstown

This story is an entirely fictional work of adult erotic fantasy, involving
consensual sexual relations between related persons.

Copyright me 2017.

If you're under the age of majority in your jurisdiction, please come back
when you're of legal age.

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COOPERSTOWN by Boy Mercury X

1.

Naturally, Dad wanted to go to Cooperstown for his 50th birthday, and I
wanted nothing more than to make his wishes into reality, especially if I
could get a couple of my own wishes in there as well.

Dad was always a baseball freak, should have been a professional player
himself but instead fell in love with my mom and then had a little
unplanned surprise -- that's me -- and that left baseball, well, on the
sidelines.  He became a handyman, picking up jobs here and there, enough to
scratch together a living but not much more/

His lifetime hero is George Herman Ruth, aka Babe Ruth, and I have to admit
I kind of don't get it, but I respect it.  When the old man talks about the
Babe, I nod a lot but to tell the truth it mostly goes in one ear and out
the other.  It's enough to know Dad has a passion for him, his stats, his
biography.  That's how I got my name, George, because Dad says he only
loved three men in his life: his father, the Babe and me.

We packed the car, and Dad had mapped out the route and reserved rooms at
some skunky motel in Cooperstown.  I told him I'd cover all the costs and
we should get a nicer place, but he insisted this was his trip and he could
still pay for things himself.  He was always that kind of guy, and he might
have been a little defensive knowing that at 30 I was making more money a
year than he ever came close to.  But it was his trip, so however he needed
to do it was cool with me.  The cheap motel made me a little nostalgic for
my childhood when we'd go the Finger Lakes or trips through New York State,
getting by on fast food and shitty sleeping accommodations.

I flew all the way from Seattle to the lousy Buffalo airport, just to pile
into Dad's car and drive 5 hours to Cooperstown, but I wanted this to be a
special birthday for Dad, and brought a special present that I hoped he'd
love.  It was something I made myself.


2.

Growing up Dad was my buddy.  We didn't have that much in common, but we
liked each other's company and each other's sense of humor.  After he and
mom split, it was hard to tell her I wanted to live with Dad, but in my
heart an easy choice.  Maybe it was best for her too, because she got to
make a new start with her new husband with fewer reminders of her old life.

I knew Dad would be lonely on his own and I liked our bachelor life
together.  He wasn't socially handicapped or anything, but was a peculiar
character pretty set in his ways and I didn't know how long it would take
to find another wife.  So I sort of assumed that role, tending to a lot of
things a wife would do, but in the most dude way possible.  I don't know
how many burgers and pizzas we ate, because my cooking was pretty shitty
otherwise, and I shudder to think at how slipshod the housecleaning was.

But Dad was the coolest father I knew, because as long as I took care of
school and shit he didn't much give a rip what I did, and he had no
interest in bullshit.  Like when we moved into our apartment together, he
said "Son, you're at the age where you're going to be jerking off all the
time, so here's some house rules: One, when you do that in your bedroom,
put a sock on the doorknob so I know not to come in.  Two, use a damn
tissue or a dirty t-shirt, don't make a mess of the bedsheets every time
you work your pecker."

"What about you?" I asked.

"What about me?"

"Are you gonna' put a sock on your doorknob?"

"Son, I will jerk off anywhere in my home I choose, any time I choose, and
when you're a man, you can too."

He was as good as his word, because Dad had the unfortunate combination of
a strong sex urge, and not much use for the bullshit of women otherwise.
So I got pretty used to Dad whipping it out and jerking it if there was a
woman he liked on TV, or if he was sporting an extra good morning wood, or
just for the hell of it.

That all might sound creepy, but it wasn't to me.

I liked guys, and Dad was a hot motherfucker.  I liked masculine hairy guys
with thick frames, and that was Dad to a T.  He wasn't tall, only 5'10",
but big and thick everywhere, with black fur all over his meaty pecs, and
even on his back and shoulders.  When I was a kid I would have been creeped
out by back fur, but once I got puberty induced testosterone intoxication
and saw how it ran along his muscle lines I thought it was as hot as
anything.

He had a nice beefy hairy man ass, and a good sized and shaped cock. I
could lie and say it was 12 inches long and thick around as a forearm, but
it was really just a healthy sized cock with a good shape, thick and veiny
all along.  It's still the cock I think of as the archetypical cock, the
baseline, and I've seen bigger as an adult, but never one I liked better.


3.

The older I got the more Dad talked freely about the sex he was missing.

"Pussy fucking, titty fucking, that's the shit, son.  A hand is a pitiful
second choice, but beats walking around with blue balls all the time."

"How about someone else's hand?" I asked.  "Would that be better?"

"George, I'm not sure I understand what you're asking."

"I could jerk you off," I said, "and you could jerk me.  Fair's fair."

He couldn't argue my logic, so we gave it a try.  I took his cock in my
hand and stroked it nice and slow.  He took mine and we just worked each
other's cocks, the first time in years someone handled his and the first
time anyone ever handled mine.

"Wish you were a pretty blonde girl," he said as I worked the head of his
cock, and saying the words made his cock pulse.

"So do I," I replied, "working your big cock, getting a big daddy load out
of you."

"Oh fuck," he said and released his own grip on my cock, pulling both his
arms over his head as he got closer to cumming, "keep going."

"Getting your load," I said, "all to myself, rubbing it on my boobs..." I
could feel his dick swelling, "touching my pussy..."

His dick just erupted, in one short burst of cum, followed by three long
arcs of hot white daddy goo, his hips thrusting hard and his stiffy riding
through the pussy hole I faked with my hand.

"God DAMN!" he grunted, as the last rivulet oozed out of him.

Then he got back to working my cock, and talked about what turned him on
for my benefit.

"Y'know what I would like?  A woman who is always just ready.  Like she's
making a sandwich in the kitchen and you want some poon, so you just sidle
up behind her and slide it in.  Always free poon.  Wouldn't that be
something?"

He didn't know I was gay yet, so I played along with his pussy talk,
getting off anyway as I imagined my horny dad fucking some faceless woman
at will, dropping his hot loads into her pussy whenever he wanted.  I came
harder than I knew I could.


4.

The summer of my senior year was the hottest on record, and our apartment
seemed too small and too humid and we were always brushing up against each
other, fueling a non-stop erection for me.

For a while we'd been doing our jerk off and talk dirty thing, but not
regular, just when it got to Dad he had not been with someone for a long
time.  When I told him I was gay it stopped for a long time, but eventually
Dad got over that.  I also started fucking with other guys, so I was less
focused on Dad.

But fuck, he looked so hot that summer.  He wore hardly anything to ease
the heat, and the dewy sweat on his muscles was like an open invitation to
lick him off.  I didn't know if he was looking at me the same way, but I
know I was feeling more sexual than ever before in my young life.

I'd been working out and could feel my muscles uncoil as I'd stretch and
bend.  I liked the swell in my pecs and the flat of my belly, and the
treasure trail on it. I would never get a stocky fireplug build like Dad
but I was feeling hot, and did what I could to show it off to Dad, wanting
his notice if not his approval, his approval if not his appreciation.

I decided to up the ante by wearing just a jock strap at home during a
96-degree evening.  "Jesus, George," Dad said, "this isn't the locker room,
even though it feels like a damn sauna."

"Just cooling off Dad, you should try it."

He said nothing, but about 20 minutes later I saw him in the kitchen making
a sandwich wearing nothing but a jock.  I could have cum just on the sight
of the way the straps wrapped under his thick hairy man ass.  I didn't know
if I more wanted to be him or devour him.

I sidled up against the kitchen counter and asked how he was doing in the
heart, and he grumbled.  I let myself slide down, dropping my ass on the
kitchen floor, back to the cabinets next to him as he filled his sandwich.

"George?" he said.

"Heat's making me horny," I said, looking longingly at the rough cotton
cupping his cock and balls.  Whoever invented the jock was a hero. I hope
he won the Nobel Prize.  I hope they sainted him.

I reached out to run my hand over his bulge and Dad gasped.  Without words,
I raised an edge of the jock to let his full dick and balls hang out.  I
raised up to reach him, and enveloped his cock with my mouth and felt him
ease his hips into it.

This was not my first blowjob, but my first with Dad. I must have surprised
him at how good I was, and how easily I took the length of his cock into my
throat.  He stayed standing, leaning against the kitchen counter, letting
his hips glide back and forth as I swallowed again and again.

It must have been the first time in a long time that Dad got head because
he was moaning and groaning, and I was encouraged to go deep on him with my
throat while my hands worked his balls and grabbed at his hard ass.  I
would have tried a finger in his butt, but before I could his thrusts got
harder and knocked my head against the counter.  Standing there with hid
elbows on the counter and his thick legs spread wide, he shot a hot load
down my throat, my whole body tensing as I fought to swallow it all.  It
took less than a minute to jerk myself off, his dick in my mouth and his
semen coating my throat.


5.

I studied art at school and Dad waited for me to come to my senses, but I
didn't. I loved sculpture and clay and shaping things by hand and working
in synthetics.  My specialty was lifelike simulations, with flower petals
than felt like the real thing.  Naturally I got into crafting genitalia,
because it seemed edgy and I made up some bullshit manifesto about
representing whatever blah blah blah.  I just really liked creating silicon
dick heads and anuses and nipples, and could get lost for hours and hours
on the most minuscule aspects of shape and texture.

Sometimes I'd bring some home for Dad, gift wrapped, and would laugh my ass
off as he'd open a gift wrapped butt or set of boobs, cracking me up with
his theatrically exaggerated shock, "Oh jeez, thanks Georgie, just what I
always wanted!"

I was getting sex too, and fell in love with Max, and the days of fooling
around with Dad just faded into a thing from my younger days, like cartoons
and having to be told to do chores.  Max was from Seattle and after
graduation we moved there.  I was so into my own thing I didn't think much
about leaving Dad alone, but I guess I did.  He never said anything about
it though, because real men don't bitch about their kids moving on or their
damn feelings.

He liked for me to send him current music so he could stay current.  I sent
him music for his iPod sharing what I liked, and he let me know what he
thought.  "The Killers are okay," he'd say, "but Gaga is too fruity.  Next
time more Spoon, they are good to listen to at the gym."

I hooked up in Seattle with some friends to start a sex toy company,
Fucksticks.  I was the chief simulist, or the guy who designs the surface,
opening and interior, for different sensations, which were lodged into
handheld canisters, for guys to hand fuck.  The canisters were all the same
except for a couple of different size options, but the surfaces were all
different -- mouths, assholes, pussies.  The interiors started all the
same, but I got into individualizing those too.

Money was tight for a while, but when our product line took off it went hot
and the dollars started flowing in.  I felt like a star, because there are
a few products on the market like ours, but what made our special was my
work.  I got into super details surfaces and interiors to simulate the real
thing, and the reviews all credited these aspects with a unique product
well worth a higher price tag.

I sent Dad samples, at first to show off what I was doing, and because I
was too broke to buy him proper birthday and Christmas gifts.  But after we
became successful I kept it up, and just like I sent him music to try I'd
send sex toy prototypes and asking how they worked.

"The poon was pretty good, but a funny shape inside, liked the butthole
better," he'd say, or "the new mouth is a big improvement, and would like
one in each color with the different lips."


6.

We had a crap dinner at a chain restaurant and headed back to our cheap
hotel room, where Dad decided to take a shower to wash the road off.  While
he did I set up his birthday gift.

He came out of the bathroom toweling off, his body still hard and masculine
as ever.  Maybe more.  When he noticed the plastic case in a ribbon, he
said, "What's this?"

"Birthday present," I answered slyly.

"Not my day till tomorrow, but I don't mind a surprise," he laughed as he
jerked the ribbon off.  Then, confused, he asked "The Back Poon prototype?
What the fuck is that?"

"It's our new product," I said.  "It's a pussy model, but it doesn't go in
a tube.  It's an insert that goes in a guy's behind."

"How the fuck does that work?"

"It just goes up a guy's ass instead of in a tube," I said, " so for that
guy it's like a big buttplug. It has a thicker ring that goes in just past
the sphincter to anchor it.  But on the outside facing end, on the
exterior, the silicon is pussy shaped, y'know, with labia and shit.  And
it's hollow and really soft and silky inside.  So if one guy has it up in
him, another guy can just slide his dick in and fuck him in the pussy."

"But why?"

"Well, for one thing, the bottom can have all the effort of getting ready,
and the top can just shove in when he wants to.  I guess you might not know
guys have more prep time than women to get dicked."

Dad looked a little iffy.

"And it protects the bottom's hole from friction, so, this is weird to talk
about, but then the guy can get fucked a lot longer."

He still wasn't sold.

"And the inside is more, uh, snug, than the inside od a guy, and there's
the labia, so if a guy wanted his top to feel like he was getting pussy,
this would help."

"Well thanks George, but I don't see myself putting one of these in my
keester."

"Yeah Dad, I figured.  I didn't bring it for YOUR `keester'."

He cocked an eyebrow.  "Oh."


7.

"Wanna' give it a try Dad?" I asked.

He held Back Poon prototype up close to his face and traced his fingertip
over the labia.

"It's real good work," he said, "but I don't know, son.  Not that I don't
appreciate it."

"It's okay Dad, no problem.  I just want you to have the birthday you
want."

"Whew.  I was worried I'd hurt your feelings.  But if you're in the mood,
I'd take a birthday blowie."

I smiled ear-to-ear, and said "You bet, sport."

I could hardly believe how strong and fit Dad was at 50.  Sure he had more
lines in his face and was thicker overall, but what a man.  I stayed
focused on his cock, but the gray in the center of his furry chest got me
right in the balls, especially against his dark ruddy skin.

He got situated in the center of the bed and spread his legs, his Dad cock
standing at full attention for me.  I swallowed it whole, in one gulp, and
wrapped my arms around his thick furry legs to pull him in deep.  His
coarse graying pubes tickled my nose as I latched down hard, the thick head
deep in my throat.

"Jesus Christ, Georgie," he groaned.

I knew he was in for it.  By age thirty I'd gotten pretty fucking good at
this.  Good enough to work his cock non-stop, keeping it in my throat for
extended periods, play with his balls and even tracing my finger around his
tight pucker.

It didn't take much to get him off, and he exploded in my mouth, giving me
more cum than I could easily swallow. I sucked his whole load out of his
furry balls, quickly jerking myself off as I buried his half hard cock in
my throat.


8.

Dad was quiet all through the Baseball Hall of Fame.  He cried at the Baber
Ruth memorial.  It was only the third time I ever saw him cry, first when
mom divorced him and second when I graduated college.

On our way out I noticed how quiet he was.

"Hey Dad, remember the Back Poon I gave you?" I asked.

"Yeah," he answered, "as if I could forget."

"Y'know, you inspired it."

"Me??  How?"

"You told me once it would be really hot for you to have a woman you could
just fuck anywhere anytime."

"Yeah?"  "I know it's not the same as a woman, like you'd like.  But I
figure the best I could do.  So happy birthday Dad."

Then Dad started really tearing up.  "God damn it," he said, "second time
today."

"Dad," I continued, "I have it in me right now."

"Georgie, you wore that thing at the Baseball Hall of Fame?  Jesus!"

"Sacrilegious, I know.  I thought that made it kind of hotter."

"You're a piece of work, son," he laughed, "not what I expected when you
were born, but you keep me on my toes."

"So Dad, you want to give it a shot?  Right here?"

"In the PARKING LOT?"

"Well no, but like over there, around the corner.  There's a little spot.
Just drop your drawers and get in it."

"I don't -- aw fuck, what the hell.  It's my birthday."

Like a couple of kids about to get in trouble we ran over behind the
building, unbuckling out pants on the way.


9.

I pressed myself against the wall of the Baseball Hall of Fame, my jeans
down under my ass and spread my cheeks to expose the Back Poon to Dad and
his cock.

Dad spit in his hand and smeared his thick cock and whispered "You sure
about this?"

"Hit it, slugger," I answered.

The silicon insert had been in me for a couple of hours, but it was super
lubed, and absent a cock not that big.  But once Dad's cock slid in it
spread to envelop him.  Fuck, he was fast too, sliding straight up into me
in one thrust.

"OH JESUS," we both said, my skin tingling from the sensation of being
filled up inside.

He started pumping me hard and fast, no build up and it was a shock to the
system, but it was so hot to hear his duck gushing in and out of the fake
pussy I designed for him, hearing his breathing and greedy grunts.

"Oh my god Georgie, I can't take it, this is so fucking -- unnhhh..."

And just like that he was shooting his hot cum up into me through the
silicon cunt up in my ass.  I could feel his body seize up against mine,
his hip thrusts shoving my almost off my feet.

As soon as he came to his senses he tucked up back into his jeans fast, and
I tried to do the same, but my erection on one side and the dripping Back
Poon on the other made it hard.

We scrambled into the car, and Dad said, "Want to go back to motel and try
again?"


10.

We ran into the motel room, yanking out belts off on the way, threw off our
clothes and I threw myself belly down on the bed.  I spread my legs wide
and hiked up my ass, to show off the cunt I designed for my dad.

"That's a real sweet looking poon," he said, "good job on that."

Then he dug his face in, licking at the silicon labia and clit, still wet
with the leaked cum he dumped in me just half an hour earlier.  He was
digging his tongue in aggressively, and making animal noises and shaking
his head.

"Oh my God Dad..." I groaned, imagining I could actually feel his tongue in
me.

"Know how long it's been since I ate pussy, son?" he asked and dove in
again, pulling my ass cheeks apart with his rough hands.

He got up on his knees between my legs and was working up a second hard on.

"Batter up?" I asked.

"It is my birthday," he said, and plunged his cock back into the poon
chute, slick with his last dump in me.  "Ohhhhh...." he gasped, as my ass
rose up to meet him.

He pumped hard again, throwing his strength into it, and I could feel the
silicon case swelling up in me with each thrust, making my own cock drip
and pulse.  But after a few minutes working it he slowed down and said,
"Fuck, I don't think I can do it again.  Too soon."

"It's okay Dad, how about I suck you while I jerk off?"

He pulled out and I flopped onto my back, and slowly pulled the Back Poon
out of me.  After a few hours of having it in me, my bowel felt so wide
open having it out.

Dad was next to me, rubbing my chest and belly as I stroked my cock, so
proud of him liking my gift, and so grateful to have had him in me.  I
reached down to play with my hole, and he slid his hand to cover mine, so
every time I slid my fingers in his slid in too, which made me groan and
spread my legs.

Finally he turned around and pushed the head of his cock up against my
hole, held up my leg with one hand to clear the way, and gently slid up
into me.  I made a soft whimpering sound, because even though I'd had him
in the Back Poon, this was the first time I'd felt his actual cock in me,
flesh to flesh.

"You like that Georgie Boy?" he asked, pumping slowly into me.

"I do... unhhhh Dad -- sorry it's not a pussy like you like."

"Heh," he chuckled, "you know how many men never get to try ass?"

Then he started pumping vigorously, really throwing a hard fuck into me.

I couldn't help it as my cock started spewing ropes of cum all over my
belly and chest, and as my ass gripped on him Dad's cock spasmed and he
shot a second load in me, right in me, not a toy, not a fake pussy, right
in my own hole.


11.

We showered and cuddled up in the bed, and as lousy as the mattress and
sheets were there was no bed I'd rather be in.

"That was a hell of a birthday gift, Ace," he said.

"Hell of a home run," I said, "but that's not the whole gift."

"Jeez Georgie, I can't go again tonight.  I'm 50 for fuck's sake."

"Duh, that's not what I meant.  Dad, I set up sales for the Back Poon, so
all the profits go to you. Every dime after the costs are covered is
yours."

"No way Jose.  George I'm not taking your money."

"Well it's not my money on this one, it's yours.  Dad, I wouldn't be here,
wouldn't be in this business if it wasn't for you.  So take just this.
It's yours.  Happy birthday."

Dad snuggled up behind me and I could feel every hair on his chest and legs
scratch against me.  He kissed my back, and dick rode up against my ass.  I
could feel it stiffen just a little.

"Dad?"

"Georgie?"

"Winding up for a third inning?"

"It IS my birthday."

I smiled as I reached down to pull my cheeks open for him.


END