Date: Thu, 7 May 2020 16:12:29 +0000 (UTC) From: Danny Smith Subject: I do...my son (part one) I do...my son By Danny Smith Part 1 I smiled as I watched my future daughter-in-law walk down the aisle. There waiting for her at the alter was my son. My feelings about him were hard to describe: I was thrilled he was getting married, let's start there. My heart swelled up with pride that he was going to be joining me in my business and that he wanted to one day take it over. But something else was swelling up to, and it hung between my legs. I felt an amazing sense of satisfaction that I was the only person in the church that day that knew everything about my son's dick, just as he knew everything about mine. I knew how his cum tasted, and how much he shot; how to stimulate his balls the way he liked; exactly how much hair he had in the crack of his ass. As far as I knew he and his bride had not yet had sex (although who knows?). On the other hand, he and I had been sexually active with each other for years now. But let me introduce myself. I'm Charles Evans, II better known as Chip, as in "chip off the old block." The old block, of course, was my father. My son is Charles III or, as everybody calls him, Trey. I'm a businessman here in Paris, Texas. I own a chain of paint supply stores called Paris Paints. Maybe you've heard our slogan: "To get the best paint in Texas you've got to go to Paris." And to understand the special bond I had with my son, let me go back to when it started. He was 16 and a real stud. I was 35 and still pretty fit, if I do say so myself. Trey took after me in the looks department. We both have dark hair, green eyes, both well built, fit, and tall. His muscular physique was not only the result of lifting weights, but from several years of helping me out in the store. Lifting boxes of paint for customers does great things for your arms and your chest. He was a good boy, always willing to help with the chores. It was almost funny though -- every time he mowed the lawn he took his shirt off. In fact, every time he was able to, he went shirtless, and I clearly knew why. He was proud! And why not? I was the same. I'm still built pretty well-built and can turn a few heads myself. Trey was athletic and played almost all sports but the one he liked the most was baseball. He put his heart into it, did everything the coach asked him and more, and easily made the team. I say easily but it was work. I remember the day he came home from school late; the coach had really worked them hard that day -- wind sprints, calisthenics, and weight training. Trey was moving pretty slowly that day. After we'd eaten supper and he'd done his homework he really seemed spent. He said "Dad, I'm so sore I don't see how I can get to sleep tonight, and I really need to!" I told him he should go upstairs and take a shower, as long and as warm as he could, and that I would come up later and give him a rubdown. I loved a massage myself and figured it would relax him. He sort of lit up at the idea and said "you got it!" I had nothing sinister in mind, I swear, although frankly I was looking forward to it. It was awhile before we heard the water finally shut off. It was past our usual bedtime and my wife had gone off to bed earlier. I walked upstairs and quietly entered my son's room. He was lying on the bed face down in his pajamas. He was trying to rest but tossing around from the soreness. I sat down on the bed beside and began rubbing his shoulders, slowly working my way down his spine. My son's position on the team was catcher and I knew from experience that's hard on your knees and your butt. Plus I could tell his was wearing a t-shirt and jockey shorts under his PJs, so when I reached his backside I just continued on, saying: "I know this has got to hurt too, so if you don't mind...." "Mind? Heck no, Dad, that feels great. It's where I need it the most!" I finished up with his legs and said, "I'll bet your knees are sore too." "Oh yeah." "Well, roll over and I'll take care of them too." He did and, starting with his feet, I worked my way up his legs, then began working on his knees. He started softly moaning -- I'm not even sure he was aware of it -- as I squeezed and rubbed him, first on his knees, then his thighs. I couldn't help but notice when I glanced at his crotch that my son had an erection. It was pretty plain to tell because frankly he's got a pretty good sized cock. It was hard not to spot it! I was pretty damned turned on by that, and found a way to "accidentally" brush against it while I was in that area massaging things. I didn't want to be too obvious, of course, and if he'd given me the slightest indication that it wasn't okay, I was prepared to pretend it had never happened and move on. But that's not what happened. He sighed again, actually more of a moan, and very slightly moved his pelvis in a thrusting motion. It was very subtle, but unmistakable. My son was as turned on as I was. I remember I kept thinking "damn that underwear, if only he'd gone commando!" But rather than make a big deal out of it, I just continued on, massaging his chest and then his arms. I finished up and asked "Better?" "Oh year Dad, thanks. That felt great." We made eye contact but I didn't say anything. After a long pause, he added: "Sure wish we could do this every night. What a way to go to bed." "I couldn't agree more, son." "Tomorrow's supposed to be another big training day. I have a feeling I'm going to need this again. Maybe more..." His voice trailed off and he didn't finish that sentence. But we locked eyes and I said softly, "I'll do as much as you want, son." I got up, patted him on the cheek, ruffled his hair, and walked back downstairs to the bed where my wife was sleeping. My mind was spinning. What had just happened? Would it happen again? Was I being turned on by my own son? It was pretty clear I was...and he was being turned on by me. I had thrown a huge boner by then as I thought, "God, what's going to happen tomorrow?" The preacher's age-old words interrupted my reminiscence: "Will you Charles Evans, III take Sharon Jemison to be your lawful wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward?" "I will." "Will you Sharon Jemison take Charles Evans, III to be your lawful wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward?" " I will." All that next day I was distracted. It was hard to concentrate on business because I kept thinking about my son. What would happen that night? I didn't want to think of myself as the kind of dad that diddled around with his own son, but that's exactly what I'd done and what I wanted to do again. Hell, I wanted to do more, a lot more. But would he? I forced myself to calm down. The important thing here was Trey had to be in the driver's seat on this, he had to be the one to set the pace. If nothing happened, then that was it, and nothing would ever happen. But I said a little prayer, just in case. "Now please join us as we all recite the Lord's Prayer." That evening not much happened at first. We had a nice, quiet supper, watched a little TV while Trey did his homework. After the evening news my wife went off to bed while Trey went upstairs to shower and to wait for me. He'd already remined me that he was sore and that I'd promised to give him another rubdown. That was a good sign. I heard his voice at the top of the stairs speaking softly. I assumed that was because he didn't want his Mom to hear. "Dad, are you coming?" Oh wow, did he really mean that to be a double meaning? Guess I'd find out when I walked into his bedroom. My answer was laying there with no sheet on -- and no shirt. I walked over, sat down beside him, and started in. This time, my hands were not only soothing his muscles...I was trying to be as sensuous with him as I could. When I reached his backside, I was treated to another good sign -- no underwear. I rubbed his butt a long time, pulling his cheeks apart and taking all kinds of liberties. At one point I said, "You know this might work even better if we got these out of the way," referring to his pajama bottoms. I started to pull them down and he raised up to make it easier for me. If there was a sign I needed, this was it. I pulled them all the way off, tossed them on the floor, and feasted my eyes on my son's body, buck naked. I finished up my "massage" on his legs as quickly as I could and said huskily, "Turn over." One of the most beautiful sights I'd ever seen was right in front of me. My naked son, stretched out in his bed, his cock at full staff, stiff...throbbing...waiting. I wasted no more time, but instead took hold of it and began feeling him up, playing with his penis, rubbing it, jacking it. His voice cracked a few times as he whispered "Dad, Dad, it feels so good. Don't stop, Dad, don't stop...aww, please...oh God, Dad...oh God, Daddy if you keep that up I'll shoot... I'm...I'm so close...." By now I was in full lust mode myself. Suddenly I thought to myself "why not cum together?" I reached down and began jacking myself furiously. It didn't take me more than a few seconds to catch up to where he was. I whispered "Let it go Trey, let's both shoot..." and sure enough that did it. I felt my hand covered with his sticky goo, just as my own load shot out. My jizz shot onto his stomach at just the same point that his own goo was starting to pool. I gave us both a few seconds to calm down, then reached down and began mixing our two loads together -- his sperm and mine made a sizable amount! I scooped up a big glob and, as my son watched in fascination, I put it in my mouth, then licked it off my fingers. "Holy shit, Dad, did you just eat that?" "Sure did. Want to try it?" What was I thinking? What if he was revolted by the idea? Instead I heard an enthusiastic "Oh, yeah!" I scooped up the remaining load of protein, held it in my fingers, and said "open up." He did as I told him, smacking his lips obscenely. "Damn that's good," was all he said. The reception was in full swing. Both our families were there, lots of my customers, and of course Trey's and Sharon's friends from college. They had toasted each other and were now cutting the cake. They followed all the old traditions, including feeding each other a piece of the cake. As she started to feed him, I had a flashback as she said "open up," and he responded with "damn, that's good!" He caught my eyes, and we stared at each other a moment too long. I knew he was thinking the same thing I was. With our eyes locked, Trey licked his lips almost obscenely, and responded again, this time changing his words slightly to "delicious." To be continued...