Date: Mon, 23 Mar 1998 23:26:23 -0800
From: jake7@electriciti.com
Subject: First Time With Dad #12

(cont.)

It was time to talk. Now, after three days. Three days of no sex. An easy
going three days...school, sports, friends, hanging out. And easy evenings
at home. Dad was fun and talkative....his old self. We joked and laughed,
and the building tension because of the lack of sex between us was something
we both quietly acknowledged, I think. It was as if we knew we would talk
soon. I felt he was giving me some room to think, and absorb what had
happened. I had gotten over the fear I felt. It wasn't hard. I reminded
myself that he had always told me I could say "no" anytime. He had always
honored this, and I felt safe now. A bit more in control. And a bit more
aware that what I had feared for a couple of days was not so much the
intense pain of getting fucked for the first time, or even the intense
seductive power he had exhibited. It was fear of myself. My internal
reaction to something so intense. So wonderfully intense and sexual. So I
started to plan a "talk" with him.

                            ----------------------

The opportunity came quickly. Saturday morning arrived with rain pouring
down.  I was stuck at home since there was no possiblity of basketball or
hanging around with my friends outside. He had gotten home late Friday
night, and mentioned that he wanted help cleaning the garage over the
weekend.  Saturday morning found me at the kitchen table in my bathrobe
wolfing down some cornflakes and reading the sports page. He arrived
downstairs in only his jocky shorts, looking weary and grabbing a carton of
orange juice from the refrigerator.
"Hey" I said.
"Hey" he responded a bit absentmindedly. He was still half awake.
"Sleep OK?" 
"Yup" He answered as he started to come into focus. He tousled my hair as he
walked by and sat in the chair next to me.
"How was last night" he asked while he reached for the rest of the paper.
"Uhhh, OK I guess" I answered. I was a bit cautious since I had made a big
deal of telling him the day before that I was going out with my girlfriend
and may be home late.
"Just OK?" he asked with a slight smile. His eyes still staring at the paper.
"Ya, it was OK...we had a good time"  It was a half lie. I did have a good
time, but had no sex with my girlfriend, except for sucking on her tits and
a lot of kissing. I thought she wasn't in the mood for more. But neither was
I, since I couldn't get the thought of my father's cock buried in my ass out
of my mind.
"Good" he said. Then reached under the table and ran his hand up my thigh.
It was one of his perfect messages. Opening the door, implying, indicating
that he wanted to stay on the topic, but leaving it open for me to respond.
I knew this was the time, and took a deep breath.
"Dad". I wanted to blurt out a thousand questions, but my mind stopped.
"Yes?"
"Uhh, about the other night......" A long moment passed.
"You want to talk?" He lowered the paper and stared at me.
"Well, yeah....I guess.. I mean....what we did.....the story about when you
were in the Marines and all...." I was feeling like a tongue tied kid asking
for my allowance.
It made me angry, but I also felt the pleasure and pain of being such an
akward pleading son.
"You want to talk seriously?" he responded, looking deep into me with that
certain gaze. It had such a tone of foreboding and promise that the climate
in the room changed.
"Well....yeah...." I stammered as I looked away from him.
"Good" he said definitively. Then he flicked his right hand toward the
living room, gesturing me to the site of our upcoming discussion. I stood up
obediently and walked to the next room...wondering why I still felt like a
small child about to get a scolding. I sat on the couch and he sat close
beside me. After a long look, he put his arm around me, put his feet up on
the coffee table, and took a deep breath.
Then he began.
"What I told you about myself and that officer is all true, and it affected
me tremendously". He crossed his feet, looked at the ceiling, and continued. 
"It took me years to finally come to terms with what it all meant to me, and
the feelings that it evoked...because they were so strong, and more than
sexual. I thought for a short time that what I had started to do with him
meant that I was gay and didn't really like women. But that went away. I had
always liked sex with women, and my experience with him didn't change that.
I still continued to fuck women and loved it. Then I met you mother and we
got married.  Aside from some of our wife swapping and group sex when we
were younger, there were only a few encounters with men for me. It was
mostly brief encounters in the military with guys my age, and a few meetings
with guys I met at the gym or when I was on the road with business years
later" He looked at me and smiled. "But I loved it all. I loved sex with
men. I love the way our bodies look. I love the way men smell and taste, and
I love all the things I've showed you. Long ago I accepted it as a part of me".
I was caught up in the trance his voice always induced when he talked like
this. My gaze was unfocused as my mind raced back and forth across the life
he was describing. My Dad..that Marine....My Dad...other guys. Now me.
I felt his hand go to my lap. It pushed aside the folds of my bathrobe and
he slowly gripped my cock. He just held it. Quietly, without movement. But
his gentle grip started my cock, and mind working, and losened my tongue.
"But dad, why me?"
"Because your my son, and since you were thirteen I've had this fantasy. It
was so similar to my first experience in the Marines. I wanted you to feel
what I felt  with an older man. I took a chance....because I had a
feeling...and I'm going to finish off what I started.....you haven't said
'no' yet and you're not going to. I just started off a bit too fast.That's
why I let you catch up...and take control, and fuck me first. Now we're past
that, and I'm going to finish what I need to do. And, that's just what you
want...isn't it"?
I don't know where the words came from, but they left my mouth like frantic
soldiers hurrying to obey an order.
"Yes Sir"
I could feel myself shrinking, getting smaller. My body seemed to be
dissolving back into the couch. But my cock stayed very hard.
"I mean...I think that...." I stammered
"You were right the first time. Don't try to pretend. I know exactly what
you are feeling" His words came out crisp and direct. A bit of an edge. The
dual images of him bending over for the big Marine officer, and me being
splayed across his bed
a few nights before fought for control of my thoughts. Then for a brief
moment I was very concious of the smell of his body beside me. 
"You have to learn BOTH sides" he said.
"What do you mean"?
"You have to learn the power of being a top, and the power of being a
bottom. You only know the first because I let you fuck me....and you're
still not on solid ground with that yet".  A familiar ripple of anger went
down my spine. The same feeling that always happened when he saw deep into
me and said the truth. Whether I wanted to admit it or not.
"I'm going to teach you the other side...what it feels like to submit and
give yourself over" he continued. "There is power there too...in the self
understanding...the letting go". Now I was really confused.
"What do you mean?"  I countered weakly. "You forced me to do stuff right
from the start. You held me down. You made me suck you....."
"Right, and you liked it. That's when I knew I was going to take you all the
way. After that it was just a matter of pacing. You knew I would finally
fuck you, you just weren't ready for the feelings it would raise inside
you." Again, the ripple of anger.
The anger increased as his fingers left my cock and moved  below my balls to
my asshole. He could feel me tense up, but didn't stop. His finger entered
me as if to empahsize the point he was making. The muscle memory in my body
reacted strongly, and I could feel my asshole clench. His left arm which had
been around my shoulder moved. His hand came to the back of my head and
turned it toward him. He stared deep into my eyes without saying a word, and
I could feel his thick hairy wrist move between my asscheeks as his finger
took me.
I wanted to speak. To continue the discussion and ask my questions. But all
that came out was a whimper. He continued to hold my head and make me look
at him
as his finger moved in forceful circles inside me. It became clear to me
that this wasn't sex. It was power. It was access. It was a statement. It
was a challenge.
My eyes strayed to the thick dark morning stubble on his cheeks, and I
remembered how sensual my cum had looked on his face that evening on the
patio. How clear and delicate as I had moved my finger through it, feeling
that rough masculine face. Such a thin veil between us. I heard myself
whimper again
as he stared at me, and his finger took control of my body.
"What about that Marine? That guy?" I blurted out. The words seemed to come
from somewhere else.
"What about him?" he responded. His voice was low and flat, and his finger
never stopped.
"Well......why did you do that...give in....do everything he wanted?" I
realized I was asking two questions. One about him, the other about me.   
"Because he was strong, and attractive, and I had never felt that much power.
And, after that first night I realized that he had something that I wanted.
I just didn't know what it was or how to get it.....except to keep going
back and hope that I found out" 
I thought I knew what he meant, but my mind was starting to blur from the
commotion in my asshole. His finger was relentless and slow. And I was very
hard.
Then his left hand tightened slightly on the back of my head. As my head
decended to his lap, I realized just how far into this trance I was. He
hadn't even moved his arm to force my head down. All it took was a slight
squeeze, a twitch of his fingers on my scalp, and I knew what he wanted me
to do. When I pulled down the waistband of his underwear his cock was soft
and thick in front of me. 
As I pressed my nose and lips into his deep pubic hair, I noticed a delicate
white crust along the side of his cock. He had jerked off last night. I
leaned my head sideways and ran my tongue over it. Watching at the same
time. It disappeared.
Melted in mystery like a holy communion.
"Get it good and wet" he said as his fingers left my ass. His hands went
behind his head and he stretched out a bit as I took the opportunity to push
his shorts toward his knees. He started to get hard as soon as I pushed my
mouth over his cock. I always liked that quick few seconds when I would
start to suck him while he was soft. It was the only time I could get his
entire penis into my mouth and I loved the feeling. I kept sucking, long
slow strokes, and he started to talk.
"When I went back after the first night, I knocked on the officer's door.
When he opened it, I just stood there and couldn't say anything. He looked
at me for a very long time, then he just nodded and smiled and said
'Good....come in'. He knew I was scared, but that made him even more
interested, because I had shown up and he knew he had me".
I had shaken off my robe and was kneeling on the couch beside him with my mouth
buried in his crotch. Sucking him deeply, with shivers running up my spine.
"He was more gentle the second time" my father said. That's all he said as
he pulled my head away, stood up, and pushed me down on my back on the couch.
As he stood over me slowly kicking his underwear off his ankles, I could
feel the sweat on my shoulders start to glue me the the dark green leather
cushions.
There were no words, just gestures as he stared down at me. He moved his hand 
a few inches from his lips and spit on his fingers. Still staring. My legs
jerked involuntarily and came up so my feet were flat on the cushions. Then
he knelt on the couch with his knees near my feet, and a cold wave swept
through me. It was so sexy, and so scary, and so out of control.....and I
was so turned on. I could feel the sweat dripping from my armpits onto the
green leather, my hands were damp
and my fingers were twitching. My asshole shrank like a Black Hole in space.
Fort Knox. "Get 'em up" was all he said. 
My body betrayed me at that point. As my knees pulled up to my chest, tears
started to run from the corners of my eyes. The image of an old pump on a
farm we used to visit raced across my brain. My legs started back down then
jerked back again, and the water flowed from my eyes.
He looked at my face and a brief grin tugged at the corner of his lips. 
"Those tears are from the first time" he said. He said it like it was old
news. Something very familiar. Then he grabbed my ankles and shuffled
forward on his knees. He put my ankles on his shoulders, close against the
sides of his face. Then a small whimper sounded in my throat as his fingers
entered my ass. I saw that intense look in his eyes. That focused, detached,
laser stare. His fingers worked me for only a few moments. Then his cock
descended and I felt the thick head on my asshole. Then his laser eyes
locked on to mine...just for a moment.
Just for the moment of touch. When there was only touch. His cockhead laying
against my asshole. Then he leaned forward. Just leaned. And he entered me.
It was a short movement, a  slow stab. My throat clenched and I gritted my
teeth,
but the muted whimper seemed to bounce off the walls for the whole
neighborhood to hear. He was in me. Thick and dripping.....but only part
way. I knew that cock. I knew every inch of it. I braced myself for the rest
of it, but it didn't come. Instead he placed his hands around my
ankles...almost gently, fists up near his cheeks, and looked down at me. I
lay there, stuck between fear and a huge feeling of sex, and stared back at
him. He had 4-5 inches of his cock in me and was motionless. I cried and
twitched trying to adjust to the pain as it subsided. He was completely
motionless, and he stayed that way.  Motionless except for his mouth.
Because he started talking. Slowly, staring into my eyes. His words. That
perfect sexual cadence that made me shiver. It was like the slow campfire
smoke that kids watch. But it smouldered from his mouth, and it smelled like
man sex, not smoke, as it washed over me and raised to the ceiling, and all
the crackling flames were in his eyes. And the rhythms of a dark campfire
night settled in and blocked the daylight from the room. 
He had a story. And he started to talk to me... take me. Again, with his words.
"When you were thirteen, and we would wrestle, I was so turned on by the
feel of your legs because they were starting to get hairy. I loved to feel
them, and rub them, and run my hands over them.  And I would always grab you
under your arms so I could feel the sweat and the hair that was growing
there too."
He kept talking. In slow measured sentences.Never moving. Just kneeling over
me with half his cock imbeded in my asshole. His eyes locked onto mine. I
lay beneath him. Sweating, panting, unable to move and totally transfixed.
"I could smell you from across the room when you came home from playing
basketball. I was that focused on you. So I would always make you talk to me
about the games. Not because I cared about them. It was because I wanted to
stand close to you and breathe  the smell of your sweat, and stare at the
damp stains on your clothes. And imagine what it would be like to hold your
sweaty balls in my hand and just look at them. And kiss your neck and lick
your shoulders and back....."
He took a short breath, and I noticed that he was sweating. His breath
served as a reminder. I wasn't sure I had drawn a breath in the past few
minutes. All I knew was that my cock was rock hard, and the pain in my
asshole had vanished. It was replaced by a feeling of thickness and ownership. 
Then he continued his journey through the years...through my body. 
"I waited for just the right time before I ever took one of your jock straps
from the laundry and held it to my face.......

To be continued........soon

(Thank you readers for the many letters, and continued sharing of your life
stories.  They are touching, sexy, humorous, endlessly interesting, and
very heartening.)