Date: Tue, 27 Dec 2016 19:09:28 -0500 From: Bear Pup Subject: Karl and Greg 3 - Learning to Speak Please see original story (www.nifty.org/nifty/gay/incest/karl-and-greg/karl-and-greg-1) for warnings and copyright. Highlights: All fiction. All rights reserved. Includes sex between blood-related men. Go away if any of that is against your local rules. Practice safer sex than my characters. Write if you like, but flamers end up in the nasty bits of future stories. Skip food-related paragraphs with (^) at the start. Donate to Nifty **TODAY** at donate.nifty.org/donate.html to keep the cum coming. ***** "Some sorta cum volcano blew its lid right in my lap. I hollered and you dissolved in tears and ran. And. I. Was. Wrong." My head snapped up and I gaped at him. "I was wrong and I need you to forgive me so I can make up for lost time. So I can teach you what I shoulda taught you years ago. Teach you to be a man. More, teach you to your own man. Teach you to be Greg, my son, my Greg. Whatya say, sport?" "Yes!" I held enough control not to start leaking snot and tears, but it was a close run thing. "Yes. I don't have to forgive you cuz I was the... the one who never... who never asked, never came close, never... never had the g-guts to... never let you be my PA! I need what you g-got, and I need it real b-bad, Pa!" He reached forward and grabbed my shoulder. I saw his face change. Pride, love, anticipation were there for sure. But underneath was a shadow of what looked like lust, like triumph and wicked grin as well. "Good then. Let's start." ***** Karl & Greg 3: Learning to Speak M/M; incest; vocal; nipples; masturbation; edging; light oral "Strip." I honestly think there was Harry Potter thing going cuz I was standing and naked before I realised I had moved. Pa's grin widened to a smile and he chuckled. "Stand there facing me. Like I said before, one of the reasons for our... misunderstanding last night was how quiet and reserved you were. That ends now. I can't teach and you can't learn if'n we don't know what each other feel and think and want. You get me, sport?" "Yes, Pa." "Good. Step a bit closer. Good. I'm gonna run my hands over you and you tell me exactly what you feel. Don't stop and don't shut up. Moans groans and fuck-noises will be a more-advanced lesson." He beamed at me and I started to smile myself even in the face of crippling jitters. He put his callused hand on my pecs above my nipple and I sighed. So did he, but more in exasperation. "I told ya. Tell me what ya FEEL. Every sensation. Every twitch. Every touch. Talk, son, TALK!" "I ah feel your calluses um your hand is scratchy and soft and forceful but not pushing in and and I feel it on my um chest and it tickles the little hairs. Is this right? Is this what you want, Pa?" He nodded, and ran his hand a bit lower. I shuddered a sigh and resumed, "When your hand moves so light like that I get goosebumps. I feel blood coming up and my face and chest feel all warm. I got tingles. I got... tingles. Sorry. I said that. Um. I. Um. Ah-Uh-Ah-Uh." A deep gasp, catching two or three times before my breath was all the way in, shook me as Pa's rough thumb scraped across my left nipple. I stuttered to speechlessness as he stroked. A low growl, soft, like a purr, "Whatdaya FEEL, son?" "I don't' know words. It... it feels... Oh god! Sorry, sorry. It's like a thousand tiny jolts of static electricity all over my, my... and straight to my, my crotch..." "One of the things we're workin on here is vocabulary." His voice was whiskey and velvet, raw but smooth -- soft, understanding, firm. A lot of love glowed in that patient voice. Throughout, his thumb never stopped its inexorable strumming of my nipple. "Every part of ya has a 'proper' name that you use to doctors and priests and therapists. But each one has a dozen names that men use in our heads and to each other, and most importantly to your woman or your lover. Those little shocks are from me petting one of the most sensitive parts of your body, Greg. Your 'nipples' or 'nips' or sometimes 'tits' or even 'boobs' have popped up and are sending signals, yes, to your 'crotch' and your 'penis' and your 'testicles', but most importantly to you cock, your dick, your rod, prod, fuck-stick, shaft. Your manhood, son. And your nuts, balls, low-hangers, eggs, cum-factories. Those tiny shocks are running through your sexual system to its root, HA! Another word for that hard, throbbing slab of meat: Root! Get on with it." "Um, you keep rub ru rubbing my n'nip. It... it makes it hard to breathe. My um, my cock is so hard. So hard. So nice. So hard. So... hard. Sorry. Your hand is moving across my chest and it makes me shiver! It's like every hair I've got gets stroked each time you move a little. Unnnnngh. Um, um. Oh, god! I thought when you got the right one it would be a repeat of the left but, ungh! It's like the left one lit a fuse and the right one is the, the, the, oh my god. Oh, Pa. Please keep doing that. I can feel it to the base of my nuts." Pa chuckled evilly. "Yeah, son, I get ya. I was never one much for tit play, but I know lotsa guys and most women love it and a few go nuts from it. You and Karl got the extreme version straight from your Mom, I tell ya. You are hard-wired, nips-to-nuts! Oh, yeah. Now look down, son, look down at your hot prick and tell me what you see." I took a deep, shaking breath. Pa was doing things that I didn't even know could happen. I did as he told me. "I see my, um, p'p'prick. It's shiny and, um, wet and, um, red and wet and beating with my heart. There's... ungh, a drop of something oozing out. I've felt it but never seen it before. Oh god that feels so good, Pa!" "That's 'pre-ejaculate fluid', yeah, quite a mouthful. It's the lube you make on your own and there are a dozen names for it, but most people call it pre, pre-cum or cock-snot. My favourite when I was young was to hear it called dogwater. It sounds so hot and dirty don't you think?" rub, rub, scrape. "It means you're worked up enough to prime the pump and your dick is getting desperate for real attention. It also means you're getting a bit too hot from the tit work, and we're gonna take a short rest break. Step back, sport, and tell me what you see with your Pa in front of you." He was right. I was huffing and could feel my nuts churn. It's probably not possible to cum from just that (mmmm, I thought, oh lord that would be nice, oh so fucking nice to try!) but part of me was desperate to erupt and another thought Pa was right and I need to back off. Pa stood and his body presence pressed me back to the edge of the bed. My eyes had been either locked to his or rolled back or closed or, occasionally, darting to his junk but I didn't really LOOK at Pa until he told me to. I took a deep, shuddering, needy breath and decided that, like housework, I'd start at the top and work my way down. "I see my Pa and I've been looking at his eyes. Deep eyes. Liquid eyes. You've got dark, almost black hair and a little bald spot starting..." He laughed, "Hey there ya little squirt!" He must have saw me start to close down or look abashed cuz he quickly said, "No, son, you're right. I just forgot I told you to tell me EVERYTHING! You're doing fine, and yeah, I know that my thatch roof is getting thin. Go on." He chuckled a bit more as I resumed. "Um, your ears are covered a bit, but they're small and thick. You'd have a unibrow if you didn't do something like shave the middle and the brows are thick and bushy. Your eyes are... are..." I faltered. I plunged on like I was hypnotised or on some sort of sexual truth serum, "Your eyes look like they can x-ray my soul. I know you're smiling at that cuz I can see the edges crinkle. Your eyes are a dark, rich, brown like chocolate and the lashes are long. Your nose was broken? Maybe? Cuz there's a knot there. You just shaved, but there's still a shadow from the hairs. You've got full, strong lips and, I was right, you're smiling and smirking at me. I feel all blushy, like I shouldn't be saying all this but you told me too and oh, my god Pa, you make my heart run." My voice trailed away like a stream of smoke, fading to nothing at the end. "This is what I asked you to say, son," his voice soft and caring, "Keep going and I promise you can't go too far. Tell me what you see and what you feel." "You, your um shoulders have so much hair on then. I'm so smooth, so hairless. I feel like a little boy next to you. I'm a foot taller..." "Hey now, none a that," he chuckled. "But you still seem to be filling the room. You're the man to my little boy, Pa. Your... chest is so tight, so strong, so real. And your, um, nips, um are so hard and erect. Um. And the hair on your chest almost forces a person to look at the centre, concentrating the hair, the attention, the, I dunno, the need to focus on the trail down to your. You. Your. Oh my god, Pa. I can't say it!" I almost wailed, looking at the 14 inch, one-eyed monster rearing up from a froth of densely-curled hair and looking ready to bite me... and oh, to be bitten! "I can't talk about that part of you! It's soooo big and powerful and so, so, manly. So YOU! Please don't make me talk about your, your manhood." In reality, humans don't often have 14-inch cocks; Pa didn't. At that moment, yes, it looked to my sex-addled eyes the size of a power pole and twice as hard. He was actually big for a real (non-porn-star) guy, with a hefty 7-inch-plus, relatively thick cock. "Your huge balls..." actually, his balls were rather enormous for a human, about the size of ping-pong balls -- baseball-sized orbs are the realm of rather painful fantasy; how do they ride a bicycle?. They were still impressive, and thickly-furred like the rest of him. "...slung below your, your, your thing and pulsing and, um, and leaking... your..." "Yeah, son, that is the dick that made you. It's the dick and the balls that shot you into this world. Look at them. Relish them. Think about my screaming orgasm that ended nine months later with my first, my precious, son. YOU." I went into lockjaw as he reached down and began to fondle himself. I knew that I was supposed to narrate this, but it was so beyond me that I couldn't even think in words, much less talk in them. He slung his hand down, down, over the uncut head and I watched it like a hare watches a one-eyed adder; me frozen, it gradually lifting itself in front of me. The slithery skin snaked back and the hint of bright pink showed, already glistening with 'dogwater'. Even as I'd focused, my universe became the prick that had ejaculate a million potential me's; Pa's eyes had never left mine. "You like that, don't you son. You like that sparkle off my pre? You maybe want to taste a bit?" The moan that erupted from the bottom of my gut was matched with a knee-collapse worthy of a demolition exhibition. I was down eye-to-'eye' in seconds. "Go ahead. Just the tip of your tongue. See what I taste like." My tongue-tip inched forward in some sort of sci-fi slo-mo as I edged toward that tiny pearly of liquid. A heartbeat and the pearl had grown, the surface tension just barely enough to keep it from becoming a long, tick, drool of dogwater. I wasted no time and got that glob onto my tongue. Like a snake, again, I pulled my tongue back and coated the roof and sides of my mouth with the viscous, savoury film. That taste, that masculine, virile, oh-so-Pa taste took me right to the edge and, if Pa hadn't noticed, would have sent me crashing into orgasm. He cuffed the side of my head and growled, "None of that now." He grabbed my arms and drew me back to sitting position on the bed, my impending orgasm never more than a feather's touch away. His rough paw on my stomach almost sent me into orbit again, but slowly brought me back from the brink. "Shhh, now. Calm, boy, calm. We went a long way tonight so easy there. Easy." My breathing went from shuddering gasps to short pants to actual inhale-exhale cycles as he crooned to me and stroked my stomach. "Okay, we'll have one more part of the lesson tonight and pick up again tomorrow. A moment ago, you were on the edge of explosion," I could hear the chuckle, unvoiced, in his tone. "There's nothin better than keeping that edge, that knife's edge of paradise. One thing it does, if you pay attention, is it lets you find every g-spot on your body. Yep. It's true. When you are right on the edge, if you are kept there and keep your head, you can find each spot that will kick up into orbit. You ready, champ?" A couple of affirmative grunts were all I could muster. He chuckled again and said, "Not good enough. I need you verbal for this. You up to it, son? You ready to do me proud one last time tonight?" Huff! Chuff! Urg! Groan! HUFF Huff huff "YES! Oh, fuck, sorry, yes, Pa." "Okay, here's how this works. I am gonna do my damnest to keep you right on that edge as long as I can. You remember the static-shock thing you had in your nips when we roughed em a little earlier? Do ya?" "Yes, Pa. Oh god yeah." My breathing was almost back to normal but his slowly rubbing hand on my abs, not quite touching the top of my bush, was beginning to drive me nuts in the best possible way. "When I get you close, you're gonna feel that in a half-dozen or more places. You're damn sure gonna feel it in your cockhead, your balls and (with you) your nips. You might feel it in your earlobes or hairline or knees or toes or pits or way under your balls. Lots of guys do. The other one is your asshole. People don't understand just how amazing that little pucker of wrinkled flesh can feel. Your job, for as long as you can stand it and I can keep you on edge, is to call -- or even scream -- out every prickle you get. Ready, champ? Ready to be a real stud and admit where all your buttons really are?" I moaned, "Yes, Pa! Please, Pa. I need it so bad Pa and want to learn what you can teach. PLEASE PA!" That really sinister chuckle came again and he reached down with one hand circling my nuts, pulling them away from my shaft. I gasped and I almost came right there. The other hand gently rubbed the shaft and head of my (from my perspective) tiny and clit-like penis. His stricture on my nuts, though, brought the need without the threat of impending explosion. Actually, no matter how small and insignificant I felt beneath this stallion of a man, I actually was not some dickless wonder. Based on my highly-scientific voyeurism in every shower, locker room and urinal within fifty miles, I was slightly above average at a bit over 6 inches, with a tight, ruler-straight and streamlined shape. The biggest difference between us was that, even though we were both uncut, I had what might be called a 'lace curtain' foreskin; silky, thin, nearly-transparent and hopelessly sensitive. I could get the gut-wrenching thrill of foreskin play at the same time as I felt the stroking underneath on the ridge of my glans, it was that thin. "Oh my fucking god, sorry Pa! Oh my go... Oh! My nuts and prick are on fire. You're right, my tits feel like you've plugged them into a socket!" My breath was in shuddering gasps and pants. "I feel it under my nuts, right there where the balls come together! And my ass! Oh my go... Oh, Pa, you were right, I can feel everything a 100 times better. My toes, Pa! My fu, sorry, TOES! Feet! Pa! My feet! Uh, uh, uh! My, my, my, underarms and my, um, my, um behind the ears, Pa! "Oh, god, Pa, sorry! Oh, Pa, I can't. I can't. I just cannnnnnnnnnnnn't." There may be letter and syllables for what came next. I don't know what they are and couldn't spell them if I did. Bonus, they were in a register better suited to bats than humans. Starting with 'sorry', my voice had simply climbed the scale from my usual tenor up through dog-whistle. My mind simply... shattered. It was like the mirror in Tommy. My nuts tried to suck themselves into my cock as every cell tried to explode through my cockhead at once. All I saw or felt or heard or imagined were a billion glittering shards. I screamed, tears and spit and sweat and cum pouring out of me. I came to -- yes, I really think I'd left the land of the conscious for a bit -- to a beamingly-proud Pa laughing and saying, "Yes, you're sure a chip of the old block. That was a cum in a million, stud. Don't move. Don't even try. After that kinda orgasm, you'd probably kill yourself trying to get to the can." He must have left and come back, but I swear the next second he was running a warm, wet, luxurious cloth across the massive load I'd blown all over myself, the bed and, apparently from his cleanup, the wall behind me. I think he actually checked the ceiling for traces of my epochal cumplosion. The room spun and I still hadn't caught my breath. "Sleep tight, Prince Cumming. We'll pick up there tomorrow." My next conscious thought was a deep and abiding loathing of my alarm clock's morning screech. Author's note (so the lied; sue me): Thanks go out to Mister Shane for input that really improved the structure of the upcoming stories, and the focus of each. P.S. His and other correspondents' Kink Lists *WILL* make an impact on this and other storylines. Give me your feedback; what turns your crank might be what makes the story stronger and hotter for everyone. P.P.S. I have been posting the first few of these frequently. Please don't expect that in future. I had a number chapters "on the spike" for editing, wondering if anyone would like what and how I write. I wanted to get quickly to the sexy parts so I could find out if it's worth continuing. Let me know your thoughts, please.