Date: Sat, 22 Jun 2019 21:39:59 +0930 From: Larry Ryder Subject: Daddy Chapter 4 Hope you enjoy this story. All copyright is reserved to me Larry Ryder larry.ryder@mail.com [always happy to receive your comments with any suggestions! I'd like that too! Tell me how you like the story so far ] I am sure that you understand that such stories are legally managed in many jurisdictions. If you are too young (under 18 or 21), or forbidden by law, then go to (https://www.artsy.net/artist/jackson-pollock) and enjoy other artistic pursuits. Everyone suggests, and I do as well , that you should support Nifty financially [http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html] Daddy 4 Since that day Tom had come to understand that public urinals were more than just places where you went to piss. Most men who went in there (which was probably also most men) went in and pissed and then stood around and stroked their cocks until they got a little or a lot hard. It soon became apparent that he was not the only one who liked seeing cock. Not much was spoken, but some people were more brazen than others. Tom realised that he could excite other men by simply turning towards them. At fourteen or so with a rock hard dick most men salivated. Occasionally he would stroke himself provocatively and watch thirty year olds lick their lips. He would catch their eyes and smile, they usually reached over and took hold of his boyhood tool and occasionally, very occasionally, they leant in and took him in their mouths. He had not yet started to ejaculate but could certainly reach an orgasm. He liked it when it was rough. And it was on one such occasion at about fifteen that he said to his co-wanker "I think I am going to piss," "Just go with it" the guy had said, and kept on rubbing Tom's hard tool. As the need to piss became more urgent he pulled away and the guy kept jerking him. It was then the release came. Thick white cum shot out, about six or seven spurts. The older guy laughed, and ran his fingers through the sperm, "That's what I like," he laughed, "beautiful spunk" and lifted the precious stuff up to his lips and licked it up. Then, taking some more he offered it to Tom...from then he was hooked. Spunk was the drink of choice. It's not true that he understood much of this, but he continued to visit men's toilets and seldom left unsatisfied. Years later, when Ed was a lad he didn't mind taking him into the Gents. Little boys need to pee after all. Sometimes when he was there he would also catch the eye of another aspiring cocksucker. Ed didn't seem to mind, indeed he liked being with his Dad, even if he was being stroked by another guy. Tom just kept hold of the little fellar's hand. One day an enterprising guy patted Ed on the head, "Keep your hands to yourself," Tom had said. But he also realised that the boy didn't seem to mind. "Was that OK?" Tom asked, " when that guy touched you." Ed just laughed. This left Tom puzzled but he continued to take his son with him, tightly clutching his hand, while he allowed himself to be stroked by other guys and when he put their cocks in his mouth. And so here we were; His hand was always firm and totally covered mine. "Will you fuck me Daddy?" I asked him, "What do you mean? What do you think `fuck' is?" He didn't push me off. And I had to try and guess. "Well isn't it when people who like each other, push their bodies together and kiss." He chuckled, "That's pretty close, but maybe there is a bit more." He touched my cheek and I smiled back at him, I knew I could trust him. --000-- So I've repeated that little motif a few times. Maybe it's to get it through our heads that this little boy, probably not so little any more wanted something from his Dad, Tom, and would keep on worrying until he got it. Tom felt uncertain, while he had touched young boys before. This was his son. He had felt strongly attracted to his own father, but was also aware that his father pushed him away. As he had got older he wondered if this was because his Dad knew that maybe things would get away from them too easily. He was not to find out, the coward as we called him...or if we were being blunt..the absolute cunt...had chickened out of life and gassed himself. There was no way he was going to let his son go, the way his fatherhood deserted him. "Listen Ed, we've got to get some things straight. I'm still thinking about whether you and I should do any of the things you see other men doing to each other. Some men just fuck each other, because it makes them feel good. But also some people love each other and the closest thing they can do is fuck, that's different. " I didn't quite understand what he was telling me but I guessed it was important. "Well I know that I love you and you love me, that's why I want you to fuck me" Tom seemed to totally disregard the statement. "Oh and that's another thing. You have to talk properly about things. `Fuck' is a really serious word and some people think you shouldn't say it in public. It's OK between you and me, but don't go saying it to your teacher". A wry smile came across both of our faces as we thought of Miss Freggain, the maiden class teacher, "I don't think Miss Freggain would appreciate it." "But we say it all the time in the playground," I interjected, "I know," said Tom, "that's OK between boys. But don't do it around girls. And also," he added, "you should call your penis by its proper name; except boys and men usually call it their `dick' or their `cock'. That what we do" He smiled at me, his son and gently touched my shorts and squeezed. "Oh Daddy, you're squeezing my..." I paused for effect, " ..cock" and I reached out and touched Dad. "I love your dick too!"