Date: Fri, 6 Nov 1998 09:13:16 -0000 From: John Venn Subject: Dad's Best Friend - Part 1 This fictional story contains scenes of consensual father/son sex. If this offends you, or is illegal where you live, don't read further! Dad's Best Friend by Alexander I don't remember very much about my Mother, she died in a car crash when I was about five years old. The only reason that I can remember her at all is because of the photographs Dad puts out whenever we have any family to visit. It took me quite a long time to realise why he did this, but slowly it did. Before I get too involved with this story, I had better explain a bit about myself I suppose. My name is Paul and I will be 15 on my next birthday in about three months time. My father and I live in a largish detached house about ten miles outside Dover on the s.e. coast of England. Our nearest neighbours are about two miles away, and the closest lad of about my age lives even further away than that! You can imagine then that Dad and I spend a lot of time together, especially when I am on holiday from school - luckily he works from home and can usually organise his life so that we can get out a lot when the weather is OK. But I am getting a bit ahead of myself. Let me start at the beginning. I must have had quite a bad time after Mum died, although I can't remember much about it now. All I can recollect with any clarity is that was when I first started to sleep with Dad. I felt the loss of Mum mostly at night as she was always the one who bathed me and put me to bed. For about a year Dad let me sleep in his bed with him as it was the only way he could get a good nights sleep without having to get up and calm me down after having a bad dream. Sometimes he would carry me back to my own room during the night, but as time went by, he did this less and less; I think that he enjoyed my company almost as much as I did his. By the time I was coming up to eight years old, we had accepted the fact that we would always share the same bed, and I don't think that it was ever discussed that I ought to use my own room, except when we had people staying overnight. I knew inwardly that other people wouldn't understand if they knew I still slept with Dad and so I accepted it just as a part of normal life and never mentioned it to anyone. Naturally as I was getting older, I was becoming more and more sexually aware and more than a little interested in it. Accustomed as I was to seeing Dad naked, and never giving it a second thought, I can clearly remember waking up early one morning, long before Dad would be awake and seeing his penis hugely erect. The sight both frightened and excited me as I had never imagined that small thing which hung between my legs could ever, ever, grow to such gigantic proportions. For the next few months I secretly and deliberately tried to wake before he did just so that I could stare at it; the feelings I felt inside myself I couldn't begin to explain. The only thing I knew for certain was that it was a nice, pleasant and comfortable one. It took me ages to work up the courage to actually touch it. One morning I had woken up as normal and found that for the first time, I also had a stiff prick. My 3 inches or so didn't even compare with the seven inches my Dad had. And his sprouted from a bush of black hair, whilst I was still bald and smooth. Touching and playing around with my own prick, I found that the sensation was much more than nice, it was wonderful! Thinking to myself that if I enjoyed the sensation as much as I did with my tiny little cock, how much more enjoyable it would be for Dad if I played with his, after all, I reasoned, his was much bigger and he would get that much more pleasure. Laying with my head on his chest, I looked down towards his crutch and slowly moved my right hand towards his groin. Still holding my own cock with my left hand, I gingerly took hold of Dad. Noticing with interest that my fingers didn't even begin to meet around his cock and I could only just hold his balls on my open palm, I let my hand explore all around his groin. Quite unexpectedly I felt his prick get even bigger. In something of a panic I let go and looked at it carefully. Whilst it had seemed quite hard before, it had got even stiffer now and stood almost upright. Thinking to myself that Dad must enjoy being touched, I grabbed it again and slid my hand slowly up and down the shaft, feeling it grow under my touch. (As did mine, I was delighted to realise). Suddenly Dad's eyes opened. "What ......?" he gasped and glared at me. At first I thought that he was going to get really mad at me. and letting go I blushed bright red with shame. Feeling acutely embarrassed and not knowing what to say, I simply lay there, not daring even to look at him. "Sorry!" I managed to stammer eventually and began to cry. There was a strained silence for what seemed like a lifetime before, thankfully, Dad said "That's all right, Paul. Put it back if you want." I must admit that at the time that was the last thing I wanted to do, but needing to please him and keep him happy I did as I was told. Dad lay back on the pillow and sighed contentedly. We lay there for about ten minutes with me gently massaging his prick. Suddenly, and without any warning at all, I felt his cock expand just like a balloon and lots of white, sticky stuff shot out the end of it. Laying as I was, with my head still on his chest, I managed to collect most of it on my face. "Jesus!" Dad said, and sat bolt upright, making me jump even more. I was terrified. My first thought was that I had somehow or other managed to hurt my Dad, his whole body was trembling and shaking uncontrollably. Looking at him worriedly, I asked him if he was all right. "Yes, son. Fine" he answered, putting an arm round me and giving me a cuddle. Kissing me on the forehead, he added, "I think it's about time you and I had a talk." A little later we were in the bathroom together, he having a wash and shave and me having a shower. "Listen carefully to what I have to say Paul," I heard him tell me, "What happened this morning wasn't wrong, or anything like that, but you mustn't ever tell anyone about it. They might not understand." Gratefully I took in what he had said and readily agreed. I wasn't at all sure why, but I felt a lot happier now that we had actually spoken about it. "When you get back from school today, we'll have a chat." The day passed very slowly for me. I couldn't wait to get home and talk to Dad. I had no idea what he was going to say, but I knew that it was important and also that somehow, in a way I didn't understand, our relationship was about to change for the better. At long last I got home and found Dad working in his study. Running in to the room, I threw my school bag on the floor and bounced up onto the couch. "Do you wanna talk now, Dad?" I asked excitedly. "Not just yet. Later. You go and get out of your school clothes and come down for tea first." Within a couple of minutes I was undressed, dressed and sat at the table, wearing my favourite T-shirt and baggy shorts. On the table was a little book - "Boys Growing Up" it read on the cover. "I think we ought to read that together after tea," Dad said. For the first time in as long as I could remember, after the meal was finished we went into the living room and didn't put the TV on. Instead Dad drew the curtains and put the lights on. Sitting on the settee, Dad motioned for me to sit next to him. The room felt lovely, warm and comfortable and I curled up next to him, with his arm over my shoulder. For the next hour or so he and I went through the book; not page by page, but selecting odd bits here and there when he could see that I was interested in something. Naturally I had picked up scraps of information about 'the facts of life' both in class and in the playground - what this wonderful little book was doing was to fit the jumbled bits of stuff I had learned into some sort of order for me. Not surprisingly I wasn't at all interested in the few 'girl' bits, but listened attentively when Dad explained about puberty and adolescence. I was fascinated when it explained about erections, masturbation, sperm and so on. I was also uncomfortably aware that my prick was getting hard - the first consciously erotic 'erection' I had ever had. Curiously I looked down at Dad's groin and was pleased to see that he also had one. So, I thought with great relief, it's all right then. At the end of the book was a small chapter about boys having sex together - 'Homosexuality' I learned it was called. Dad seemed to spend more time on this bit than he had on any other part of the book, much to my delight I remember thinking. One page especially sticks out in my mind even now. It explained that almost all boys go through a stage when they 'play around' with each other and 'toss each other off', but that most grow out of it. A few however don't and they are what are called 'homosexual'. There is nothing wrong with them, Dad informed me, but it isn't 'usual' and many people find them difficult to understand. "That's what we did this morning," Dad continued, "And that's why no one must ever know about it." "I thought it was nice and I liked it," I said innocently, "Didn't you?" "Yes, I did," he answered carefully, "But we shouldn't really do it." He then explained the reasons that we shouldn't do it again, but couldn't really answer me when I asked him why if we both enjoyed it and no one else knew. Eventually we compromised by agreeing that if we both wanted to 'play with each other' then we could, but it must remain our deepest secret. I was more than happy to agree with this, and much to Dad's embarrassment (and delight as I now know), asked if we could 'do it' again now! Laughing, he picked me up from where I was curled up against his side, sat me straddled across his knees and pulling me towards him, kissed me softly on the cheeks. Throwing my arms around his neck, I hugged him tightly and returned the kisses. My prick was now hard again, and I am sure he could feel it against his stomach through my T-shirt. I know that happily I could feel his erection pressing into my groin and mischievously wriggled against it. "No, not now." I was disappointed to hear him say as he picked me up and stood me on the floor, "But we can later, if you're a good boy!" he smiled. End of Part 1. Feel free to tell me what you think (Positive comments only please!!!) Constructive comments always welcome. Alex.