Date: Sat, 2 Nov 2002 22:46:43 -0500 (EST) From: Rob Andresen Subject: Dreaming of Dad I remember thinking about what it could have been like while I was running my hands across my chest, the downy fuzz tickling against my soft palm. My other hand was caressing my ball sack, the lime sized orbs wallowing in the heat of my fingers. I had always had a thing for my Dad, from way back when, I could remember running to meet him as he came in the door at night, his shirt smelling wonderfully of wood and loam. Or of those football games where I would tackle him and we would roll around in the leaves of fall, the crunching underneath our writhing bodies masked by his deep laughter and my childish giggles. I had always been in love with my Dad but I didn't understand it until I started going through puberty in high school and realized that my fantasies were not the same as other boys'. They would talk in hushed whispers about the tits on some movie starlet or fashion model while my mind flashed back on Dad in his flannels and jeans, his cock bulge hinting at wonders of the male flesh. As I rubbed my hand across my nipples they peaked quickly, the areola encircled with its own peaks of desire as I grasped the base of my throbbing cock. I knew I was dreaming of a fantasy that could never be, my father, his masculinity all too evident in his behavior. He worked as a lumber harvester, the modern term for a lumberjack, played football with his buddies on the weekend, and although he didn't go out drinking with the boys after Mom left us, he was 100% man in all other respects. I guess that was the thing that left me a little confused. You see, he seemed to take the whole thing lying down, without putting up a fight, never calling her a bad name and always telling me I needed to remember she was still my Mom. But I knew that she was a bitch and didn't deserve to sleep in the same town as my Dad. So she went off to Dallas and we stayed in Denver, keeping one another in line and running a male household. That was partly why I always got a hard-on when I did the dishes since that was one of the daily rituals we developed after she left that brought the two of us closer. I slid my slicked palm across my crown and shuddered as my mushroom head expanded with the attention. I rolled the nipple between my sweat soaked fingertips and groaned softly. Dad and I would finish dinner and clean the plates off into the garbage before setting them onto soapy water to soak for a bit. Then once we finished dessert, we'd stand together at the sink, Dad washing the dishes, handing them off to me to rinse and drip before we switched to my drying them and him putting them away. Standing side by side at the sink, the small kitchen confines forcing us to rub against one another as we brushed hands passing dishes to one another. After a long day of fantasy and then the ritual of washing dishes, I had gone to my room at the back of the small house to jack off. I was still sweaty from raking the yard, the piles of dead leaves crunching as they rustled in the winds of October. My thoughts centered on Dad, his furry chest well defined and yet not an unyielding hardness. He had tackled me as I finished the chore, driving me down and into a newly piled stack of nature's finest, our laughter echoing in the relative stillness of the Colorado mountains. I slugged him in the arm and he winced in fake pain, commenting on how grown up I was now that I could take on the "old man." I knew better than that. He was twice the man I ever could be, his stomach rippling under the white henley I had gotten him for his 40th birthday last month. He wore his jeans like they were a second skin, revealing a lump of lusciousness I craved with every fiber of my being but dared not touch for fear of losing him completely. Instead, I ran to the sanctuary of my bedroom to caress my own throbbing hardness to completion, thinking only of him as I did. My steel shaft rod ached for release as I completed my self-torturous attack on my nipples and ran down my treasure trail to cup my tingling balls as my other hand massaged blood into even more engorged tissues. I could picture him standing in front of me, his fire red nipples peaking out from behind dark curly hairs that begged to be licked into submission. I had to imagine his throbbing monster since I had never had the chance to espy the real thing, only catching occasional glimpses of it as he passed by the partially closed door to his bedroom at night, having come from the shower and not yet donned his sleeping shorts that always seemed to hang off his adolescent sized waist without revealing the delights within. Of course, my Dad had nothing but the best and biggest. I had seen a porno at a friend's house once that showed this guy with a huge ass whanger but for Dad I imagined a nine inch cattle prod that would rate a grade A Prime rating from any connoisseur. Thick and meaty with a throbbing vein that snaked its way along from a bulbous mushroom head to a dense base of black gold. I wanted to worship his cock with all my heart and mouth, imagining the taste as he groaned into my hungry lips. I had only been with two other guys and both of them came almost immediately once I slid my mouth over their fat little lip fuckers. They tasted like saltwater taffy, either vanilla or banana cream as their loads slid across my tongue. I thought that Dad would taste of nuts and berries, his scent driving my cock into excited twitches of desire as I tried to control the amount of pressure I kept on the turgid flesh. My breath came in shudders and gasps as I thought of his massive thighs, the curly hairs crushing against my torso as he leaned into me, his member straining to pierce my throat with its velvet iron will. I whispered his name out loud, "Dad! Dad!" My balls began to rise slowly so I moved a finger down slightly to slide into the sweaty opening below. I popped my fingertip into my ass and almost cried out, wishing for Dad's cock instead as I began flogging my slicked shaft. It didn't take long once my thoughts came to rest on Dad's tenderloin in my pouting pucker. I grunted and began shooting ropy pearls across my down covered chest, the white cum draping across my nipple, causing another shot to stream upwards and onto my eager mouth. I licked at it, as I had done so often before, the taste of honey with a hint of orange zest. Sighing I relaxed into the comforter, my eyes sparkling with the effort of climaxing. I lay there for a short while, trying to recover my breath when I heard a rustle and my eyes shot open in fear! I thought I saw a shadow moving across my window but couldn't be sure. I suddenly seized in fear! What if it had been Dad? hmmm....what do you think? Was it Dad? Let me know what you think! Rob (malricnyc@excite.com)