Date: Tue, 29 Mar 2011 19:27:22 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bill <bil47_new@yahoo.com>
Subject: Discovering My Father's Secret - Part 2

Discovering My Father's Secret -- Part 2
By Bill

[This story takes place in June, 1965.]

Dad and I settled onto his bed.  He was lying on his back with
his eyes closed and his body tense as I snuggled beside him,
fondling his rigid cock.  My face rested on his chest, feeling
the interplay of his heartbeat and breathing.

We were quiet for a time, as I slowly pleasured him.  I could
only imagine the thoughts that were swirling through his mind.
Was he embarrassed at the way his sexuality had been suddenly
revealed to his only child?  Perhaps he was also feeling relief
that he'd finally shared his secret with me.  He was certainly
experiencing sexual arousal, as my hand slid smoothly along his
stiff penis.  And he had to be feeling an alcohol buzz from his
rapid consumption of a couple glasses of bourbon.

"Dad?" I said at last as I lifted my head to look into his face.
At the same moment, I stopped masturbating him.

"Yes, Bill?"  His eyes met mine.

"Can I ask you a personal question?"

Dad didn't answer immediately.  Then he said, "Bill; I guess I
owe you the truth.  I'll answer any question you have about my
life.  Considering what you've already learned, I might as well
be honest with you about the whole story."

"I can ask ANY question?"

"Yes.  But understand that this is just between the two of us.
You can't tell anyone else."

"I know, Dad."  Now it was my turn to pause, as I considered
which should be the first among the many questions that coursed
through my brain.  "So Dad; are you a... a homo?"

"A homosexual?" he replied, correcting my terminology.

"Yeah.  Homosexual."

"The honest answer is that I'm primarily homosexual.  It isn't
easy to fit people into all-or-nothing categories.  I love your
mother and I fathered you, so I am not completely homosexual.
But I have known for quite a while that I couldn't go through my
life denying my true sexual nature, which is a preference for
having sex with men.  Does that make sense?"

"Yeah; it definitely does," I replied.  "In fact, I guess I feel
the same way.  I like girls ok, but when I think about sex it's
usually about doing stuff with guys."  Another question was on
my lips immediately.  "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No, Bill.  The culture we live in doesn't allow a businessman
like me to be open about this.  It would be far too risky to
have a companion like that.  But there's a surprising number of
homosexuals living here in Rehoboth Beach... either year-round
or vacationing here.  I have some friends that I get together
with occasionally, and other men that I just see once."

My mind immediately pictured lurid images involving my father
having sex with other men.  "You know those books of yours?"

"The ones you found by snooping in the locked drawer of my desk?
You weren't supposed to see those."

"Yeah, I know.  I'm sorry I snooped.  But I'm not sorry I read
them.  They were really amazing!  So do you actually do sex
stuff like the guys in the books were doing?  Like in the book
about the motorcycle gang?"

"Books like that exaggerate things a lot," he said.  "But I...."

I waited for the next part.  "Yeah?"

"I said I'd be honest in answering your questions, and I will
be.  But you can't share this with anyone else.  Understand?"

"Yes, Dad.  I'll always keep it secret."

"I've done some things - and still do them - that aren't all
that different from some of the descriptions in that book.
Things that are kind of embarrassing for me to admit out-loud.
Are you sure you want me to go there?  You might think I'm...."

"I think you're awesome Dad!  Reading those books of yours, I
discovered that the stuff in my head - my sex fantasies -- are
things that guys actually do.  It really makes me feel good that
you and me are so much alike!"  I kissed him, and my hand
returned to his still-erect penis, holding it but not stroking.
Proceeding with my questions, I asked: "Do you do... you know,
fucking?" I knew that he sucked cock, because he'd just finished
sucking mine with remarkable skill only minutes before.

"Yes," he replied.

"Are you a top or a bottom?"  I had learned all sorts of things
about hard-core gay sexuality from reading his porn books.
Dad's eyebrows rose up a bit, but he again answered me.  I even
detected a slight smile on his lips as he spoke.

"Sometimes top, but I prefer being a bottom."

I knew the next question would be a bombshell, but I couldn't
resist.  "Have you ever had a bunch of guys fuck you, one after
the other?  You know; a gang-bang, like in the book?"

He said nothing, but his face blushed, so I already had my
answer.  I eagerly asked the follow-up question.

"What's the most guys who ever fucked you in one session?"	I
began to masturbate him again, slowly and gently.  A shiver ran
through his body.  "You can tell me!" I said in a soft but
insistent voice, as my hand quickened its masturbating strokes.

Dad let out a sigh as his body writhed slightly with building
sexual tension. "Billy, I know I said I'd answer your questions,
but...."

I quickly repositioned myself so I was kneeling between Dad's
spread-apart legs.  One of my hands was masturbating his cock
even more intensely while the other gently squeezed his balls.
"Tell me about your wildest experience of getting fucked by a
bunch of guys," I said boldly. "Describe it to me, Daddy, and
I'll suck your cock."

I don't know what got into me, being so boldly manipulative, but
it sure was exciting!  And he was calling me `Billy' again while
I was calling him `Daddy', just like in the role-playing we had
been doing earlier.  This was totally arousing for me, and I
could tell that it was for him as well.

My face dipped down to his crotch, and I took the head of my
father's cock into my mouth.  My tongue explored the warm soft
flesh, toying with the sensitive ridge of his glans, as my lips
slid lower onto the shaft.  It was the first time I'd had a cock
in my mouth in over a year, since I was 13 and fooling around
with friends in the neighborhood.  Like I said before, Dad's
cock was about the same size as mine was -- 5 inches and kind of
slender - so it was similar to sucking off one of my friends.
The sensations I'd fantasized about - the feel of a cock in my
mouth; the taste; the scent -- came rushing back as I worked my
mouth on his rigid erection.  I tried to remember everything Dad
had done when he gave me such an incredible blow-job.  But first
I lifted my mouth off his cock and said again: "Come on, Daddy;
tell me about your gang-bang!"

Dad started describing his first trip to a gay sex-club in New
York City, two years previously.  The story began slowly and
cautiously, but soon the words began tumbling out in a
breathless narrative as he described details that had probably
played out in his thoughts during his masturbation sessions.
The degree of salacious detail that he shared made it clear that
he was now getting a sexual thrill from telling me.  And it was
certainly a turn-on for me too, as I listened eagerly while
giving him oral pleasure.

He told me how had taken a late train up to Manhattan, traveling
with one of his more-experienced Rehoboth friends, named Pete.
They had gone directly to an anonymous-looking building on the
West Side that housed an infamous bathhouse.  After paying an
admission fee at the door, and getting a towel and the key to a
locker, my Dad stripped naked and stashed away his clothing.
His friend also stripped, but put on a black jock-strap as a
recognized badge of his dominant sexual nature. With towels
around their waists, they made their way through a dimly-lit
maze of hallways.  They walked past cubicles, some with closed
doors but others openly displaying the fucking and sucking going
on inside.  They continued past a steamy bathing pool, in which
naked men lounged in pairs and trios, their bodies rubbing,
hands fondling, and tongues kissing.

Finally they came to their destination -- the club's `dungeon'.
Fully naked subs mingled with jockstrap-clad doms in a room that
contained an assortment of BDSM fixtures and equipment.  Dad and
Pete removed their towels but didn't immediately join in the
action.  For a few minutes they joined the masturbating voyeurs
in the shadows, observing the intense sexual activity being
played out by the more adventurous men.  One of the subs was on
his knees, alternately sucking two doms who had pulled the
pouches of their jockstraps aside to release their stiff cocks.
Another naked sub, wearing an eye-covering leather hood with a
breathing vent at his nose and a circular opening at his mouth,
was strapped face-down to an X-shaped horizontal rack.  He was
getting whipped by hairy bear of a man while another fucked his
cock into the sub's mouth through the hole in the leather mask,
and several more stroked their cocks as they waited their turns
to be sucked.  A man lay on his back in an old-fashioned
bathtub, and men relieved their bladders on his naked body and
into his open mouth as he masturbated his piss-lubricated cock.
A group of men crowded into a faux prison cell, one of them
face-down on a narrow cot, his wrists and ankles strapped to its
frame, taking a succession of cocks into his ass in a mock
prison gang-rape.

The erotic environment was perfectly designed to set off my
father's submissive sexual desires... as well as his friend
Pete's dominant inclination.  A sling that hung from the ceiling
wasn't being used, so Pete invited my dad to use it. Dad
positioned himself on the contraption, face-up and ready to be
fucked.  His whole body was supported, except for his head.  He
craned his neck up to watch as Pete pulled his jock half-way
down his thighs, reached into a bucket of lube to slather onto
his stiff cock, and positioned himself between Dad's wide-spread
legs.  Once his cock had penetrated Dad's asshole, Pete needed
only to pull and push on the sturdy chains that held the sling,
making Dad's body rock back and forth, impaled onto Pete's stiff
boner.  Dad had been fucked plenty of times before, but never in
a sling.

Other men began gathering around the scene, some to watch as
they masturbated themselves, some to stroke my father's stiff
cock or pinch his nipples or open poppers beneath his nose,
others waiting their turns to fuck Dad's ass.  It wasn't long
until one of the men positioned himself behind Dad's head as it
lolled back, directing his cock into my father's open mouth.
The-back-and-forth motion of the sling pushed the sizable cock
into Dad's throat while another man's cock was sliding on the
out-stroke in his rectum. The motion reversed, back and forth,
over and over.  As one man shot his load into my father's throat
or ass -- or pulled out before cumming in order to keep his
arousal primed for multiple bathhouse encounters -- another man
came into position to take his place, and another, and another.
So many that Dad lost count.  But his intensely erotic story
kept pouring out, stoking his lust and mine.

The longer I sucked his cock, the more his tale was punctuated
by groans of rising pleasure.  When I began squeezing his balls
in my hand -- first gently, then with increasing pressure -- he
stopped talking altogether, and I could tell he was about to go
over the edge.  I could have brought his cock to a crashing
orgasm with 30 more seconds of stimulation, but another thought
occurred to me.  Instead of making him cum in my mouth, I
stopped.  Cold.  Rising up to a kneeling position, I saw the
needy sexual hunger in his expression.  An intense orgasm had
been in his grasp, but I had yanked it away at the last moment.

"How about if I fuck you," I said with a grin.  "Just like in
that bathhouse."

"Yes!" he said, in a pleading voice.  "Fuck me, Billy!"

Reaching over to drawer of the bedside table, he got a tube of
lubricant and handed it to me.

"Spread it on your cock, Billy.  But first, would you...."  He
paused.

"What, Daddy?" I prompted after a few moments of silence.

It seemed like he struggled to speak his request, even though he
had just regaled me with his pornographic account of being gang
fucked at a sex club. "Would you spank me first?  With a belt?"

I smiled down at him.  "Sure!"  He was totally opening up to me
about his kinky desires.  As a result, my sexual experience was
expanding rapidly as we ticked off the perversions I had read
about in Dad's stroke-books.  The masturbation fantasies of a
horny 14-year-old were becoming reality.

I went to Dad's closet to get the wide black-leather belt that
he brought home from his World War II service in the Marines.
When I turned back to the bed, my father was still on his back
but had pulled back his legs to fully expose his buttocks and
asshole.  One hand cupped his balls to shield them, the other
arm looped behind a knee to bring it almost to his shoulder.  As
I approached, I saw that his body was twitching slightly with
anticipation, and he rocked back onto his shoulders to highlight
my target even more prominently.

I gave him a look that conveyed the question: `Are you sure that
you really want this?'

He nodded his head slightly.  The hungry look in his eyes made
it abundantly clear that he wanted it!

I had read a full-blown description of a belt-whipping in the
book about the biker gangs, so I just followed that script.
Holding the belt's buckle, I wrapped the leather once around my
hand.  I brought my arm back and let the thick belt fly.  It
whooshed through the air but missed its mark, hitting the bed
more than Dad's butt.  But when I swung again it slapped solidly
on his backside, landing with a loud SMACK.  It hit with more
force than I had intended, reddening the skin immediately.  I
paused before doing it again.

But Dad urged me ahead with one word -- "Yes!" -- barely murmured,
but clearly conveying his desire.

I had his permission to spank him mercilessly, and the feeling
was strangely exhilarating.  The belt came down again -- SMACK!
And again -- SMACK!  And again and again.  My aim improved to the
point where I could place the end of the belt exactly where I
wanted it.  Dad groaned loudly every time the leather slapped
his butt-cheek, his face registering pure ecstasy.  And when I
made the belt's tip strike at the tender flesh of his anal
pucker a couple times, his body convulsed and his cries of
pleasure-pain were loud enough that I wondered if the neighbors
could hear.  I was getting so much into the role-playing that my
cock was totally erect again, without me even touching it.

When I finally stopped to catch my breath and wipe the sweat
from my face -- this was harder work than I thought! -- Dad was
ready for the next part.

"Fuck me, Billy!  Fuck me good and hard!"

Dad's entire butt was an angry swath of red, and I'm sure it was
painful for him.  But I also knew exactly what he wanted me to
do.  I slathered lube on my stiff penis and knelt down on the
bed in front of him.  Dad was still holding his legs up to his
chest and was now masturbating his cock.  I had never fucked
anyone before, nor been fucked, but the concept was clear
enough.  I eagerly jabbed my cock-head into my father's hole.

"Slowly at first," he cautioned.

I retrained my instinctive desire to drill into his ass, and
instead eased in gradually.  It didn't take long -- maybe 30
seconds -- before Dad was urging me to go a little faster.  In 2
minutes he was begging for a hard, fast fuck.  I let my instinct
take over completely this time, thrusting my hips urgently
against his hot red butt, pistoning my slippery adolescent cock
in fast strokes that slammed rapidly into his ass again and
again.

As I was urgently working toward an inevitable fast cum, Dad was
briskly stroking his cock to reach the same goal.  He got there
first, but not by much.  With an animalistic growl, he orgasmed
powerfully, spewing several ropes of semen, the first reaching
his chin, as splotches of cum decorated his chest and belly and
ran down onto his jerking hand.  As my father's anal muscle
clenched down on my pounding cock, I shot my teenage cum inside
him, gasping as my body experienced one of the most intense
climaxes in my 2 years of sexual maturity.

I collapsed onto Dad's body and his legs wrapped around my hips.
I licked the cum off his chin and we kissed, sliding our tongues
together, as our chests and bellies smeared the rest of Dad's
semen between us.

"That was so great!" Dad sighed at last.

"Yeah!" I murmured as I rolled off him.

We lay in exhausted silence for a while before I spoke again.

"Dad?"

"Yes, Bill?"

"Can I ask you another question?"

"Sure."

"Back when you still lived with Mom and me, like when I was 11
and still wetting my bed, do you remember getting me up at night
to pee?"

"Yes; I remember."

"Do you remember feeling me up in a sexy way when you were doing
that?  You know, feeling my butt and giving me a boner after I
finished peeing?"

Looking over at him, I could tell I'd asked another difficult
question.  He gently bit at his bottom lip as an answer was
formulating in his brain.

"Yes.  I'm ashamed to say that I did that... fondling you when I
thought you were asleep.  I'm truly sorry if it upset you."

"Oh; it didn't bother me at all, Dad!  It felt really nice, and
it was the first time I figured out that my dick could feel that
good.  I didn't actually learn about sex until I was 12 and
playing around with my friends, but it felt so loving to have
you stroking my dick and feeling my butt."

"When you were 11, and just beginning puberty, I found myself
becoming sexually attracted to you," he said.  "I knew it was
wrong, but the temptation was so powerful."

"Did you ever think about sucking my dick?"

"Oh God, yes!" he said in a wistful voice.  "It took all of my
willpower to not take your sexy little erection in my mouth.
That was one of the reasons I decided I had to leave you and
your mother.  It wasn't just that I was homosexual; it was the
thought that I couldn't trust myself not to molest you."  He
paused, as a pained look of realization came over his face.
"But here I am tonight, doing things that are completely
inappropriate for a father to do to his son."

"Dad; you didn't molest me tonight.  I've had sex before, and I
wanted it tonight with you.  A lot of what we did was my idea;
remember?"

The anguish drained from my father's face, replaced by grateful
relief.  "I love you, Bill," he said, as he turned on his side
and pulled me into his embrace.

"I love you too, Dad," I replied.  Our tongues came together
again; not with aggressive passion, but with gentle affection.
Even so, my pubescent body responded to the sexual stimulus.
Though I had already cum twice in the past hour -- and several
times earlier in the day -- thoughts of lust began to overcome my
post-orgasmic lethargy.  I couldn't resist making another
proposal.

"I really need to take a pee, Dad.  Want to help out in the
bathroom, like you did those times before?"

He looked startled at first, but then he grinned.  "Alright!"

As we got off his bed, he went to his dresser and pulled out
some white briefs -- just like the kind I always wore.  "Put them
on, Billy.  It'll be just like when you were young."

I slid on the underpants, and they fit me snugly.  Dad was about
the same size as me, so he must have worn them for their erotic
associations, rather than for comfort.  We walked together to
the hall bathroom, and I stood in front of the toilet passively.
He stood behind, his chest touching my back, his hands moving
slowly over my chest and belly.  Then his hands came down to the
front of the underpants, feeling my penis through the soft
cotton cloth.

I closed my eyes and was transport back 3 years into the past
when I was a naïve 11-year-old, half-asleep, with my Daddy's
strong warm body pressed close to my boyish frame.  As his
thumbs slid inside the waistband of the underpants, the thrill
of remembrance swept over me.  The briefs were pulled down to
mid-thigh, and I trembled slightly.  And when Dad's hand wrapped
around my penis, I gasped a sharp intake of breath.  Despite my
sexual exhaustion, I felt my dick stiffening once more.

"Go pee for me, Billy," said Dad, whispering the familiar
childhood words in my ear.  As his right hand held my throbbing
cock, his left hand was wandering over my butt.

"I can't, Daddy," I said in soft little-boy voice.  "I've got a
stiffie, and I'd make a mess."  It was true.  As hard as my cock
was, it would never bend down enough to pee into the toilet.  I
thought a moment and said: "Maybe we could go in the shower and
do it there."

We stood a few steps away from a walk-in shower that was large
enough for both of us.  But when we stepped in, Dad stood in
front of me rather than behind.  "Pee on me, Billy.  Pee all
over me."

"It's called `water sports', right?"  Yet another lesson from
the porn books.

"That's right.  Are you ok with this?"

"Sure!" I said.  "And then you can do it to me!"

When the stream of urine began to flow, it landed first at the
center of his chest at full force.  Some of it even splashed
back on me.  At Dad's direction, I hosed it over as much of his
body as I could reach -- down to his penis and balls, up his
belly, to his neck, splashing onto his face, and then right into
his open mouth.  To my surprise, Dad fell to his knees and took
my spraying dick into his hand, holding it right at the entrance
of his mouth... swallowing some of the pee while the rest flowed
down his front.  Damn!

When my bladder was empty, we switched places.  I lay on the
floor of the shower (copying a scene from the book), and he
stood over me between my spread legs, holding his penis in
preparation.  The first of Dad's pee hit my thigh, and then he
directed it onto my crotch, drilling onto my dick, then made
zigzagging lines up my torso.  He told me to close my eyes just
before the spray reached my face and hair.  I didn't have my
mouth open at first, but then I opened it with impulsive
curiosity.  The complex taste of Dad's warm urine was neither
pleasant nor unpleasant, but my emotional reaction to drinking
my father's pee was 100% erotic excitement - the same way I felt
about tasting and swallowing cum.

I stood up, and Dad turned on the shower.  We washed ourselves
and each other, and were still caressing each other's bodies as
the warm shower rinsed us clean.  As we toweled dry, I had yet
another question for Dad.  "Do you think I could go with you up
to New York sometime and go to that bathhouse?"

"Not a chance!" he replied in an instant.  "You're way too young
for that kind of thing."

"How about that guy Pete you were talking about.  Do you still
get together with him?  Could you and me fool around with him
sometime?"

Dad's answer didn't come so quickly this time.  "Let me think
about it," he said.

From the look in his eye, I knew this would be something I could
talk him into, now that I knew how helpless he was to resist his
deviant desires when he was horny.

I drifted to sleep that night, next to my father in his double
bed, with my mind playing out scenarios of Dad and me having a
3-way with an uninhibited dominant gay man.

This was turning out so incredibly great!

The End (for now)

Want more?  Write to me at bil47_new@yahoo.com