Date: Sat, 19 Aug 2006 17:09:11 -0700 (PDT) From: James Spaulding Subject: Dad's Dirty Talk, part 2 Monday I had phone sex with my dad. On Tuesday Dad didn't call, and I went crazy with fear and desire. What the fuck happened? What the fuck is going to happen? We had plans for dinner Wednesday night. We made those plans after we each caught our breath, after we had each blown a load over the phone, after he told me he was going to fuck me hard. And then we simply hung up after we made our plans. Wednesday he called and told me to be ready by 7:00. He said he was hungry for barbecue. And barbecue it was. He picked me up at the hotel. Of course he looked good. Khakis. White shirt. Blue blazer. Dad's a sharp dresser. He was as cool, calm, and collected as ever. He was Dad. Dad as I have always known him. Thirty years older than me. Masculine. Balding. Well trimmed beard. Tuffs of graying chest hair peaking out from his open collar. A little over six feet. A little bit of a gut. I went crazier with fear and desire. What did his performance mean? Why was he so normal? Something had happened. He said a lot of things, things no dad is supposed to say to his son. And as he said them I responded in like manner; I made it very clear my Dad could have his way with me. Even though I was consumed by all sorts of emotions, dinner proved to be a great time. After two beers, I loosened up. After four beers our rapport seemed better than ever. We drank. We ate. And we laughed a lot. Neither of us mentioned Monday night. Ultimately, my fear was replaced by disappointment. I was disappointed that our little adventure seemed to be at an end. Of course, my desire had never left. Even the fifth beer wasn't enough to affect my hard cock. Dad paid for dinner and drove me back to the hotel. "Can I come up?" "Of course you can come up, Dad. I got a mini-bar. Libations on the company." I adjusted myself as I got out of Dad's car. I kept my hands in my pocket as we walked to my hotel room. No need to advertise my state of arousal. Dad's blazer covered his crotch; there was no way for me -- or any other hotel guest -- to know what was happening to him or what he might be feeling. I opened the door. Dad walked in. I followed. "What did you think of our first date, James?" "Our first date?" "Dinner. Drinks. I paid. I would call that a date. Wouldn't you?" I looked at Dad. He smiled. I smiled. "It was great. You woo well." "Damn right. I was afraid I was a little out of practice. I thought about bringing flowers, but I didn't think it so wise to give them to you before the whole of Tulsa. I hoped buying dinner was enough. "Enough for what? " Dad reached for me. Gently he shoved me to the wall. He put his hands on mine and raised them above my head. I was seemingly powerless. In his thrall. His face came closer to mine. He looked me in the eyes. I returned his smile and his gaze. "Enough for a kiss." And Dad's lips met mine, a little nibble at first. A series of little nibbles followed. And then I opened my mouth. His tongue entered. And we tasted one another. Had a kiss ever meant so much? A father and his son were going where no father and son are supposed to go. And yet each man was responding with a passion and desire that is the nature of the most romantic kisses. Father. Son. James and Steve. We had our first date, and now we were ending it the way all good first dates end. We were kissing. Our mouths were passionately exploring one another. "James?" "Yeah." "Do you put out on the first date?" I kissed him. Came up for air. Caught my breath. "Fuck, yeah." He let me go. "Get me a beer. You're sure it's on your company?" "No problem. Even if it's not -- you paid for dinner. I can woo you a little, too." "You mind if I get comfortable?" "What do you think?" I watched Dad take of his shoes. His blazer. He unbuttoned his shirt a little more. I saw a little more chest hair. He settled on the bed. I brought him his beer. "Cheers. Buddy. You know how to show a fella a good time." "You ain't seen nothing yet, Dad." "James, we need to talk. You know that?" Fuck. Reality entered. My fantasy was going to be put on hold. Worse. My fantasy was going to end. My dad would reiterate his "dadness". And his son -- me -- could do nothing. How can you persuade your dad to fuck your hole? How can you tell him you want nothing more than to have him shoot a load down your throat. My disappointment was so immediate and so illogical, that I had already forgotten Dad's kisses. I knew our conversation was going to end the evening. I took a gulp of beer. Swallowed. Dad took a swig from his bottle. "James, I have wanted to fuck you since about the time you started sprouting pubic hair. I guess fucking entered my thoughts the week your Mom and I took you to Florida for spring break. You spent every waking hour on the beach. In the pool. Always in your too tight swim suit. You had grown a lot over the year, and we didn't get you a new suit before the trip. I knew you were embarrassed. Fuck, all boys are embarrassed as they start sprouting hair, getting bigger. But you got over it. I didn't get over it, James. I stared at your 12 year old ass and lusted. By the end of the week I found myself jacking off in the shower, thinking of you and your little bubble butt. I wanted to enter your hole. I knew it would hurt like fuck; you were so young. But your pain couldn't stop me from imagining my pleasure. I've continued to want your ass. I have continued to jack off thinking about you." He paused to drink from his beer. "I remember that trip, Dad. I did hate that fuckin' swim suit. It was too tight. I kept getting boners for the whole world to see. Why do you think I stayed in the pool for so long? I can't believe you didn't see my hard-ons." "I was too busy looking at your ass. Rather, I was too busy trying to not look at your ass." "You can look at it all you want now." "Yeah." I noticed a change in Dad's voice. I got deeper. Huskier. "Why don't you get more comfortable. Take off your shirt." I took off my shirt. "Nice. Let me see your chest." I walked closer to him. He reached up. Grabbed my tit. Squeezed. "Very nice. You got some hair there, James. I like a hairy chest." He left my tit for my chest hair, gently tugging. "Take off your pants." Off came my pants. "Bend over, Boy. Let me see your ass." I bent over. "Do you want me to take off my boxers, Dad?" "No just bend over....Fuck.... Nice." There was a pause. I heard some rustling. I turned around. Dad had his pants undone. His cock was out. It had been years since I saw his cock. I turned to take it in my hands and then my mouth. "Stay there, James. Bend over. I just want to see your ass." "I've got some lube in the bathroom." "Stay there. I'll go get it." I watched as Dad walked to the bathroom. His cock was sticking out of his pants. His cock was perfect. Not too thick. Not to long. Perfectly proportioned. I was amazed at how much it looked like mine. Like he said last night, cock size must run in the family. "Stay there, James. I'm going to take off my pants." I watched as Dad's pants came down. He was wearing boxers, too. And like me, his cock was sticking through the slit. As I watched his pants come off, I was consumed by this new reality: my dad was going to fuck me. I was going to make love to my father. Tonight. He went back to the bed. I watched as he lubed up his cock, pulling the waste band of his boxers below his balls. His hairy, big-ass balls. Balls I had every intention of sucking in the next five minutes. "Take off your shorts. I want to see your ass....Nice....You got some hair there, too. Damn....Spread your cheeks....Nice hole, boy. Nice hole....You get fucked much, James?" "Nope." I could only gasp. I was so turned on. So ready for whatever Dad had in mind. "I don't get fucked. I've only been fucked by two guys.....I'm a top." "You're a top... I'm a top. Will I have to convince you to take my cock? Am I going to have to force you? Or will you take it like a good boy." "God, Dad. Fuck me right now.... Just fucking shove it in." "I don't fuck on the first date, James." I turned around. "What?" "I'm a romantic, Son." He said it with a smile. But his eyes told me he wasn't joking. He kept stroking his cock. "We got lots of time. We got to get to know each other. See where things go." "Are you fucking joking? You've known me all my life." "Am I joking?" He paused. "James, I may want nothing more than to shoot my seed deep inside your ass. You are a hot man. You are a man, I could easily fall in love with. But you are my son. I love you. I wouldn't treat a stranger like a receptacle for my cum. I'm certainly not going to do that to you. Besides, I don't know you. Does any Dad know his son? Until two minutes ago I had no idea you'd even been fucked." "But I fucking want you to do just that, Dad. Fuck. Me." "Oh, James. I am going to fuck you. I'm going to clean out your hole with my tongue. I am going to lube my cock with some spit. And I am going to shove this fucker deep inside you. Deep inside you. You will fell every inch of your fucking ol' man. I will ride you hard. You will know what it's like to be fucked by a man." Dad paused. He reached for me. Pulled my face to his. Plunged his tongue down my throat. Grabbed my cock. Squeezed hard. My hands went to his cock. For the first time I felt my father's prick. He was so hard. So perfectly thick. He was as overcome with desire as I was. I knew he meant it: he did want to fuck me. I reached for the lube. Squeezed some in the palm of my hand, turned my ass to Dad, bent over the bed, and shoved my lubed fingers up my hole. I turned to look at Dad. He was stroking his cock. Staring at my hole with a deep intensity, a passion that would be frightening were it not a passion I was feeling, too. I spread my cheeks. My hole was lubed. My ass was open. Dad just needed to stand up. And shove his piece into me. There was nothing to stop him. Nothing was going to stop me. A moment passed. Another. And then the moment passed us by. I stood up and turned to Dad. He stopped stroking his cock. Pulled his boxers up to cover his erection. He sat up, adjusting himself. Hiding his arousal as much as possible. My face easily revealed my disappointment, my lust, my anger, my love. He knew I was a mess. I could tell he was a mess, too. "What the fuck?" "Oh, Honey. I am not going to fuck you tonight. You young guys want it all right away. Look at your cock. So hard you could bust a nut with one touch. But, James, we got some big obstacles to overcome. I'm your dad. I'm married -- married to your mom. And even though you have been in my jack off dreams for 12 years, I am not going to simply fuck you. I fuck you, and then what? You've been fucked by your dad. We look at each other awkwardly. I leave. You're alone. And we both are overwhelmed by guilt. That doesn't sound too good. I'd rather you be fucked by a man, a man who wants you, loves you, and happens to be your dad. That doesn't sound so bad." "It's still fucking incest, Dad." "But it's not abuse. And, hopefully, neither of us will ever regret it." He paused. Smiled at me. Reached for my hand. "Come over here, you hot fuck. There is such a thing as foreplay, you know." I moved towards him. He reached for the lube. His hand moved towards my cock. Out came the lube, and he covered my cock. "Stroke your dick. Stroke it for your old man. I want to see the cum pour out of you. Come on...That's right, stroke it for me...Look at those beautiful balls, Boy. Damn, you are fine. Come on, shoot for me." I was so close. The lube took me that much closer. Dad's request took me there. I shot jet after jet of cum. The first shot hit dad's chest. Then he took his hand and caught my cum in his hands. "Nice, Boy. Real nice. Shoot for your dad." I kept shooting. And Dad kept collecting it in his hands. As I finally finished the load of a life time, Dad looked at me. He took his hand and licked off my cum. I saw his tongue come out, and he ate my seed, cleaning his fingers as if he had just eaten a glazed donut. All the while he stared at me. "Are you going to kiss me, James? Are you going to kiss me even if my mouth tastes like your cum?" His mouth tasted like me. I licked some of my cum off of his beard. I kissed him with a lust I had never felt before. "Fuck. James. Daddy's going to shoot...Fuck....Boy....Watch your old man...." I watched, as stream after stream covered his chest. I watched as his face made the odd grimaces of beautiful orgasm. I watched as he took my hand and put it on his cock. I gathered his sperm and put it to my mouth. "No, James. You are not a receptacle. Give it to me. Come on. Feed it to me." Dad took my hand and ate his own cum from my palm. Again, his tongue eagerly lapped up all he could. I bent to kiss him. Eager to taste his cum. I received his tongue, again. Fed on his juices. And fell on top of him. After ten minutes, kissing, fondling, getting hard all over again. "When am I going to be a receptacle for you cum, Dad? How long are you going to play hard to get?" I laughed. But there was an edge to my questions. Dad had played hard to get. (How quickly I had forgotten that I had gotten quite a bit...) "So, James. Are you asking me out on a second date?"