Date: Mon, 16 Nov 1998 22:24:27 -0000
From: John Venn <john@jvenn.freeserve.co.uk>
Subject: Dad's Best Friend - Part 3

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

Part III

by

Alexander

Dad and I shared our games almost every night from then on, and even
sometimes early in the morning when I woke up early and found he had a hard
on. I thought at the time that he must have been thinking about me to get
himself so hard; it wasn't until some time later that I discovered that
this is normal and happens to almost everyone. Nevertheless, in that
beautiful semi-awake dream state between deep sleep and full wakefulness I
used to love playing with his 'toy' until he woke up. Sometime he would let
me rub it and rub it until he came, and this I thought was absolutely the
best. Try as I might (and did I try!), I couldn't manage to do this.  OK, I
knew that I was probably too young, but there's no telling how pissed off I
was about it. No matter how hard I tried, and how often, all I managed to
achieve was a dull aching sort of pain in my balls and a spasmodic jerk or
two of my prick.

I can remember only very few times in the next year or so when Dad and I
didn't share the same bed.  Apart from when Dad or I had a cold or
something, and we kept apart because we didn't feel too well, the other
times were when Uncle Tim came to stay for the week-end.

Uncle Tim was really an old friend of Mums, I was told.  Dad and Tim had
been friends since they were my age and had grown up together, Mother being
a next-door neighbour of Tim's family. Anyway, when Tim came to stop, I was
banished to the desert of what was supposed to be 'my' room, but was so
rarely used that I hardly recognised it.

Sexually I suppose that I was much more aware than most boys of my age, but
as I never spoke about our 'games' with the other kids at school, I never
really found out whether I was or not - and didn't really want to know as I
was perfectly satisfied with my own domestic sex life!  I must have been
either particularly stupid or extremely naive at the time though because
although I knew that there was only one bed in Dad's room, and there was
only one in mine, I never even thought to question why on those 'Tim'
weekends I was the one who had to move back in my room and Tim was with
Dad. I think that I just assumed that Dad was keeping our secret and didn't
want anyone to know that we still slept together, or perhaps Dad thought my
'Nursery' room (we had never got round to decorating it) was too childish
for Tim.

I had just had my thirteenth birthday when Dad said that Tim had rung that
afternoon and was coming down for the weekend. Like every other young
teenager I thought at the time that the world revolved around me, and 'who
the hell did this 'Tim' man think he was', just ringing us up and saying
that he was coming to stay? Dad must have seen that I was upset as I was
very quiet for the remainder of that evening and tried to talk to him as
little as possible.  Most unusually for me, I even pushed him away when he
sat on the couch next to me and putting his hand in my trousers to feel my
cock said "We'll have some games now if you want, before Tim gets here"

That made things even worse to my mind. Dad seemed quite prepared to give
me a good time now, when it suited him, but I really liked our night-time
plays and he knew it. I was well and truly pissed off; not only with the
hated and hardly-known Tim, but even more so with Dad for letting him come
between us. Shrugging Dad's attention off, I told him that if he didn't
want me to sleep with him, I might just as well go to bed now and let him
have Tim all to himself.

So saying, I got up and walked quickly out of the room, not wanting Dad to
see the tears welling up in my eyes.

"I'm thirteen," I thought to myself on the way upstairs, "And
thirteen-year-old boys don't cry, especially in front of their fathers."

"Bollocks to him. And Tim."

Slamming my bedroom door shut I tore angrily at my shirt, ripped it off,
buttons and all, and threw it pointlessly at the window. My trousers and
shorts quickly followed and I bounced into bed, still furious with the
world.

Laying down and staring at the ceiling without seeing it, I began to calm
down.  Dad and I had very few rows, and even then they were silly, almost
pretend ones. What I couldn't work out was why I had got so angry, not only
with him, but also with myself.

"After all," I reasoned, "I've got friends I see every day. Dad hasn't got
very many and he can't see them as often as I can. Tim is a friend of Dad's
and he doesn't see him very much." These thoughts didn't help very much,
all they did was to shift the blame for the row from Dad to me - and the
feeling wasn't very nice.

Hearing the front door bell ring, and Dad answer it I knew that Tim had
arrived. I also heard them come upstairs together and put Tim's overnight
bag in the bedroom.  They were talking to each other all the time, but I
couldn't make out what they were saying, except that as they passed my
door, I heard Dad say "Come on, let's have a drink."

Still feeling pissed off, but not knowing why, I turned on my TV to drown
out their talking. There was a film on the box which I tried to watch, but
gave up after a few minutes as I couldn't concentrate on it. Leaving the
sound on, I picked up a book and tried to read. Even this didn't work very
well, throwing it to the floor in temper I lay back with my arms under my
head and tried to think of nothing.

I don't know what time it was when I woke up, but the TV programmes had
finished and the only sound it was making was the peculiar off-air
'sissing' sound. It must have been Dad's door closing that woke me up as I
could just here them talking through the wall - not that I could make out
what they were saying, just the drone of their voices.

Closing my eyes and concentrating hard, I tried to make out what they were
talking about, without any success.  "I could get out of bed, I suppose,
and listen against the wall" I remember thinking. But I was warm and
comfortable and couldn't be bothered.

I soon changed my mind however when I heard two things almost
simultaneously. Firstly, Dad was moaning, just like he did when I sucked
his nipples sometimes, and secondly the bed-head was banging against the
bedroom wall which it always did when you rocked in the bed. Determined to
find out what was happening, I got out of my bed, found my dressing gown
and wrapping it around me, I carefully opened my bedroom door.

Creeping warily along the corridor, I reached Dad's room and knelt down,
putting my eye to the keyhole.  The room was in darkness and I couldn't see
a thing, but I could hear Dad's all-too familiar moans of happiness. I was
totally confused. As far as I knew, the only time Dad made those noises was
when I was playing with him and he was especially happy. If he was making
those sounds now, then .........

My mind was in turmoil. I couldn't even begin to think clearly.  The only
thing that I was certain of was that Tim must be doing something to make
Dad happy - and I thought only I was allowed do that, after all it was
'our' secret.  Trying once again to peer through the keyhole, the front of
my untied dressing gown fell open, and glancing down I happened to see that
unknowingly I had sprung an erection!  As far as I was concerned at that
moment in time, this more than confirmed what I was subconsciously
thinking. Tim and Dad were 'at it!'

Taking my courage in both hands, and determined to either confirm or deny
my thoughts I gently took hold of the door handle and ever so, ever so
slowly twisted it.  Feeling the lock give, I pushed the door open just
enough for me to see the bed.

There they were, Tim on his back resting on the headboard and Dad with his
head buried in Tim's groin!  It took me only a second to see that Dad was
actually sucking Tim's cock!  I froze for an instant, more rigid than any
statue I have ever seen. The sight, shocking though it was, had excited me
beyond belief. Regaining my senses I stumbled forwards, and only the fact
that I was still holding the door handle stopped me from falling face down
into the room. Half standing and half kneeling, I saw that Tim had seen
me. Speechless he just stared first at my face, and then at the enormous
erection I was pointing in his direction.  Somehow, Dad must have sensed
that something had happened because he stopped sucking and turned towards
the door.

"Jesus Christ!  Paul!" was all he could manage.

Tim didn't, or couldn't, say anything.

Ever the quick thinker, Dad lay back on the bed, next to Tim and said that
I had better come in.  Very reluctantly I entered, hugging my dressing gown
tightly around me. Studiously avoiding Tim, I walked slowly round to Dad's
side of the bed and stood looking at him, flushing red with
embarrassment. Managing a half smile, he pulled the bedclothes back and
said "You'd better get in."

Doing as I was told, I got in, but stayed as close to the edge as I could,
my arms rigidly down by my sides.

Forcing an arm under my neck, he tried to twist me over to face
him. Fighting against his strength, I turned my head away as far as I
could.

"Listen Paul," he said with some difficulty. "This isn't easy for any of
us, but you might just as well know the whole story."

Reluctantly interested by now, I turned to face him. Dad, I noticed out of
the corner of my eye, had his other arm around Tim and had given him a
re-assuring squeeze as if to say "Leave it to me."

And I listened, fascinated as he told me the story.

Apparently when Dad was about the same age as me (and Tim was a year
younger), they had started to have sex games. At first they only did it
once in a while, but it wasn't long before they came to like it so much
that they did it a lot, but no one ever knew what they were doing. It was
so secret that even when they got a bit older and had started to have
girl-friends, they still messed about together as much as they could.
Eventually they both got married, had children, and moved apart and so
didn't see much of each other. After Mum had died, Tim came down to stay
with Dad and me (I don't remember that), and they had started to 'have fun'
again. Tim was still married and couldn't get away all that much, but he
would sometimes bring his wife down for the week-end.

"That must have been when the pictures appeared," I worked out., "And also
why I was sent to my room when Tim came down."

I was still confused, but less miserable now, and was also pleased that Dad
felt he could tell me something which I knew must have been very hard for
him.  Tim I still didn't like very much, but was at least prepared to
accept him as 'Dad's friend'.

I had noticed that Dad had very carefully not mentioned anything at all
about me and him and our 'playtimes', and I decided not to bring it up
either - at least not just yet.  I felt a gentle squeeze from Dad, telling
me that he had said enough for the time being.

For some unknown reason, I suddenly began to feel very sorry for him. And
Tim. I had half an idea of what it must be like to want to be with someone
very much and not be able to do anything about it - there were some kids at
school that I wanted to play with, but they always seemed to ignore me and
it hurt inside a lot.

Sensing that I was expected to say something, and wanting Tim and Dad to
feel better I snuggled up close to Dad, and carefully keeping my prick away
from his thigh, kissed him quickly on the cheek.

"Sorry, Tim", I said. "I'll go back to bed now," not wanting to in the
slightest, but feeling that I had no real choice.

"Stay if you like," Tim said, "That's if you're Old Man doesn't mind!"

"OK, just for a bit then," Dad agreed, "But then you must go."

That's it, I thought gratefully, Tim doesn't know about us.

Feeling much better now, I put my leg over Dad's and naughtily pressed my
again erect prick into his thigh.  Dad showed no visible sign of knowing
this, except to give me a slight, almost unfelt, cuddle.

"Have you got any kids?" I asked Tim.

"Yeah. A boy of eleven called Peter and a girl of nine called Anne, but
they are at home with their mother just now."

Curiously wondering if Peter and his Dad played the same games that we did,
I chatted cosily with Tim about what sort of work he did, where they lived
and so on.  The more we talked, the more I liked him.  He had a way of
talking to me as an adult, and not down to me as most people did which I
found deeply satisfying.

Making my evil little mind up, I was determined now that I was going to be
part of their fun and games tonight, and began to think how I could do it.

Dad almost choked himself as I suddenly blurted out innocently, "Is it fun
what you and Dad do?" At the same time I rubbed my cock even more firmly
against Dad and slid my hand into his groin, knowing that he would guess
what was on my mind.

Tim, I was delighted to see, was speechless

"Er .... er....!"  he said helplessly and looked at Dad, panic-stricken.

"Yes, it is, otherwise I don't think we would do it," he helped him out.

"All I can do is play with myself in bed," I commented, making it sound as
sad as I could.

There was of course no answer that either Dad or Tim could make to this,
and so I asked, pretending extreme nervousness, "Can I have a feel of yours
Tim?"

I felt Dad's cock stiffen as I said this: he was obviously as excited at
the prospect of what this might lead to as I was.

"I don't mind, if Dad doesn't"

"He's a big boy now," Dad told Tim, "He can make his own decisions."

Not waiting for any further comments, I scrambled over Dad, accidentally
putting a knee into his groin harder than I intended on the way over. Dad
sat up involuntarily, and to give him his due, managed not to say a word -
but his face said it all!

Laying on my back between them, I grabbed my own prick with one hand and
moved my left hand towards Tim's cock.  Finding it wasn't difficult; there
it was, just waiting for me. Not surprisingly, it was already hard and
erect and just waiting to be taken hold of.

"Big, isn't it," I said, "I don't think I've ever seen one as big as that,"
I lied as it was quite a bit thinner than Dad's, but seemed longer.

Determined for some reason to make Tim feel even more uncomfortable than he
already was I said "It's bigger than mine, look" and threw the bedclothes
back.

My prick stood out, hugely upright and rigidly solid. It was so hard that
it almost hurt. Looking at it myself, I noticed for the first time that it
had grown a lot since Dad and I first started to have fun. It was now at
least four and a half inches long, and there were the first signs of hair
at the root of it.

"Do you want to hold mine?"

"Yes, please," Tim replied, finding the words extraordinarily difficult to
say.

Tim was only the second person ever (apart from myself!) to feel my cock,
and the sensation was almost as good, but not quite, as the first time that
Dad did it.

Regretting trying to wind Tim up, I closed my eyes and moaned exaggeratedly
as he worked his hand slowly up and down my shaft.

"That's ever so nice," I managed to say between gasps, "Much better than
when I do it."

I could sense that Dad was doing his best not to laugh at me.

"Pack it up, Paul!" he said, "Stop taking the piss, it's not fair."

Somewhat confusedly, Tim let go of me and turned to face Dad, the unspoken
question hanging in the air.

Dad explained, "Paul sometimes gets into bed with me when he can't
sleep. He's seen my hard cock and I've seen his lots of times. He's even
felt it when he thought I was asleep." Mischievously, and very much to my
acute embarrassment added that "He also masturbates. I hear him almost
every night through the wall."

So that's the score, I thought. So far, but no further. Our nightly games
together were to remain a secret, but the door was now open for the three
of us to 'have a bit of fun' tonight.

Luckily, I was in the middle, and accepting the fact that the rules seem to
have been laid down, I took hold of Dad's cock in one hand, and Tim's in
the other. Slowly, I began to wank them both off together.  I can only
guess how they felt, but I know that I thought I was in heaven. Playing
with my own dick was great, playing with Dad's was fantastic, but having
one in each hand was something else!

Tim slipped his hand across and taking my lonely cock in his firm grip
began to toss me off in time with my own motions.  I wasn't sure at first
that Dad would like this - and I'm not entirely sure that I did.  I was
enjoying being tossed off, but it wasn't the same. I suppose I was still a
bit nervous. Dad and I by ourselves was normal and good fun. I also think
that Tim and I alone together would be OK, but with Dad watching someone
else toss me off - well!

Thinking of a way to get out of this, I asked Tim if he would mind if I
sucked his cock like I had seen Dad do when I first came in. Dad and I had
never done that, I had licked it before, and even kissed all round his
balls and prick, but it had never really occurred to me to put it in my
mouth.  Dad, of course, must have been sucked off lots of times before, and
it says something for him that he had never coerced me into doing it to
him, much as he would have liked it. I suppose he was waiting until I was
ready and wanted to try it.

Without saying a word, Tim took hold of my head and gently pushed it down
on his engorged cock. Slipping the head of it just inside my lips, I suck
on it as hard as I could.

"Careful!", he almost shouted, "Your teeth!"

Backing off a bit, I tried again, this time using just my lips, taking
great care to keep my teeth well out of the way.

Turning over onto my side a bit more so I could get more of his superb cock
into my mouth, I couldn't help but moan with an ecstatic delight, just like
I had heard Dad and Tim do. This was a new and tremendous experience for
me; I simply couldn't get enough of it. Taking as much as I possibly could
into my throat, I sucked for all I was worth.

Dad not unreasonably under the circumstances, must have felt a bit left out
of things as I was aware that he was now holding my cock himself and was
very slowly tossing me off in just the way he knew I liked. So full of all
sorts of emotions was I that I didn't at first feel a wet finger searching
around my bum for the hole. I did notice it however when it forced its way
in!  For a split second the pain was unbearable, but it went just as
quickly as it came, and I heard Dad whisper in my ear, "Relax, It'll be all
right"

Anyone else saying that to me wouldn't have been believed, but I knew Dad
wouldn't hurt me and so I tried to do as I was told.

I don't know what he was doing with his finger, but he seemed to have found
a bit of my inside that I wouldn't in a million years have guessed
existed. As he worked his finger up and around it, my whole body seemed to
light up with a fantastic surge of electricity. My already bursting-size
erection doubled in size instantly. Tim must have felt this in his hand as
he looked across at my old man and grinned.

"Bastard!" he mouthed at him.

Concentrating once more on sucking Tim, I was really beginning to get the
hang of it when I felt the familiar tensing up in my balls and my legs
begin to shake.  Then I came. For the first time, I managed to come in
real, man-sized spurts. Up until now I had had lots and lots of 'dry
comes', and sometimes, especially recently, had even managed to make a few
drops of white spunk dribble out reluctantly. But this time was absolutely
fucking marvellous!  Secretly very pleased with myself, I gave Tim a harder
than usual suck, felt his prick swell up and took his full load of shooting
spunk down my throat!  Trying my best to snatch my head back, I was stopped
by Tim's hands pushing me even harder down on him "Oh, Peter!, Peter!" I
heard him almost scream.

All this happened within the space of a few seconds, and I had almost
forgotten about Dad when I was forced to remember his presence as he shot
his bolt all down my back, from my neck down to my arse!

Slowly and with infinite care, he took his finger from my bum and turned me
over to face him.  Ignoring Tim for a moment, he pulled me close and hugged
so tight that I couldn't breath.

"I love you Paul!" he whispered, and kissed me firmly on the lips. Looking
at him with tears in my eyes, I was amazed to see that tears were also
glistening in his.

Grabbing him as hard as I could, I returned the kiss passionately, much too
full of emotion to be able to speak.

Relaxing our hold on each other, I turned back to Tim, gave him a kiss on
the cheeks and told him "I love you too."

Normally Dad and I would clean each other up after we had had some fun, but
tonight all three of us were so exhausted that no one had the energy to
move and we simply lay there quietly, each content with his own thoughts.

I turned my back on Dad and reaching behind pulled him tightly to me.  I
loved the feeling of his prick in the small of my back as I drifted off to
sleep, his hand over my waist holding my prick and balls warmly in his
hand.

Getting ourselves comfortable, I reached out, rested my hand on Tim's prick
and closed my eyes.

Like a thunderbolt, it hit me. When he had come in my mouth, and forced me
down, I was sure that Tim had cried out Peter!.  Opening my eyes slightly
to see if he was still awake, I caught Tim's eye.

"Do you and Peter do this?" I asked quietly, hoping Dad wouldn't hear.

Tim simply nodded, smiled slightly, and turned away.

"Good!" was my last conscious thought as I finally fell asleep.