Date: Thu, 8 Feb 2007 01:43:28 -0500 From: Shawn Adams Subject: King William chapter 1 KING William A STORY OF KINGS CHAPTER ONE -- THE FIRST TIME My cousin James and I were born only five days apart. I was the older one, and I never let James forget it. Our mothers were sisters and tremendously enjoyed being pregnant together. Again, my mother was the eldest one, this time by five years. We lived in a small town about an hour north of `the city.' My maternal grandmother, another aunt, James's mom, and us all resided within 10 blocks of each other. The town was very old-fashioned: huge Victorian palaces (some sadly chopped to bits to fit upwards of 10 apartments), large yards, brick streets with distinctive trolley-track marks still evident and unlocked front doors. This practice, sad to say, has stopped recently. The influx of drugs, namely heroin, and refugees from the city have not only forced residents to begin locking doors, but has also prompted numerous alarm signs to take up precedence in the rose bushes. I have an elder brother, Henry; he is three years older than I am. My name is William, by the way, Wil for short. I also have a younger sister, Elizabeth, called Betsy. James also has a brother, George, four years younger. Firstly, I have to say that my whole family is insane. Even though we are from Pennsylvania, we are all named after British monarchs. My mom is Victoria and James's mom is Mary. Crazy. Over the years, James and I usually just referred to each other as `king.' Because we are the same age, we ended up together all the time. I was, and am still, much closer to James than to my brother Henry. We look so much alike that most people mistake us for twins. Even more curiously, we look exactly like MY father. About the same height and weight, we both have blond hair and green eyes. Just like my father. Uncle Robert, James's dad, (you can tell by his name he married into the family) has black hair and blue eyes, which led to a lot of whispering at church: Episcopalian, of course. All through childhood, James and I were together. Sleepovers were constantly happening. We took baths together all the time. Even after the point most children stop bathing together, we continued. Baths evolved into showers. Sometimes Henry would be involved, but most times not. One time when we were eight, we showered with my father. My father, Michael, can best be described as a god. He stood six feet and two inches tall, always seemed to have a tan, had baby blond hair and the deepest emerald green eyes you can imagine. He was built, to use the vernacular, like a brick shit-house. He rarely worked out, and had an office job, so it was not from physical labor. Now, in my early thirties, I hate people like him. Anyway, my dad and I were always close. We would horse around, play ball, wrestle, tickle, things like that. However, he was never afraid to cuddle up on the couch with me, or sleep with me if I was scared. Looking back, he was never really fully clothed around the house. I remember lying on his chest on the couch watching TV and all he had on was a pair of tiny briefs. Seeing him in the kitchen or on the deck in just a jockstrap, or completely nude, was common. A few times, we had showered together, but I guess I was too wrapped up in myself to notice his body. I was probably babbling on about James and what we had done together that day or what we planned to do together later. On the other hand, it could be the fact that I was so used to seeing my father practically naked or naked that it just became old hat. One Saturday afternoon in late summer, our mothers were out with Betsy and George. I think Henry had practice of some sort, probably soccer since my mother insisted we were British. We were playing on the deck and my dad was working in the backyard. He had on a pair of the smallest orange running shorts ever made. They would have been tight on me, and I was eight. I remember just watching my dad work. I can still see his muscles straining and the sweat dripping down his back. James and I were playing G.I. Joe, but eventually he ended up just watching my dad too. Neither of us said anything, and I do not really remember thinking anything. We were just watching, in admiration and love. Every so often Dad would look up at us, smile a big toothy grin, and wave. We eagerly waved back. After a while, the work finished, Dad headed in. "Ok, sports fans, I'm gonna go take a long, hot shower. Be good," Dad said. He always called us `sports fans' when we were together, or `sport' individually. "Can we shower with you, Dad?" I piped up. He lost his stride for half a second, but let out a merry, "Sure thing" as he walked into the house. "Clean up G.I. Joe first." We wasted no time in gathering up our guys and stuff and threw them into their case. I ran it down to the playroom and put it away. As we were racing up to the second floor, Dad was walking into the bathroom I shared with Henry, naked. There. That moment. That was the first time I noticed my dad's ass. High, round, stark white cheeks. Tan lines you would have to be blind not to see. I had seen my dad's ass tons of times, but never did it mean anything to me. Until that moment. We ran into my room to take off our clothes, and entered the bathroom just as Dad was getting in the shower. "Come on in, sports fans, the water's fine," he said. We raced over to the tub, and I climbed in first, followed closely by James. Dad stood facing the showerhead, letting the water hit his face and head and spray everywhere. His ass was right in front of me and I could not take my eyes off it. Dad turned around and ass was replaced by cock in my vision. He let the water hit the back of his neck and from there it rolled over the rest of his body. Dad's cock hung soft, dripping wet, nestled in barely perceivable blond hair, over his balls. A thick stream of water ran off his balls to the bottom of the tub. I reached out, cupped my hand in this stream, and then splashed it onto my face. "Come on, sport. Your turn," he said to me. We changed positions as he lowered the showerhead so I could get wet. Rubbing water through my hair, I looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back and then reached down and splashed me. Laughing, he scooted out of the way so James could come up next to me. We were getting each other wet, laughing, giggling, and splashing. Dad had reached for the soap and was lathering himself up. We stood there in the stream of water and watched him. His chest, arms, armpits, then his legs and feet. He reached behind him to get his ass, squatting a little to get into the crack, and then he came back out front to do his cock. He started by rubbing the bar of soap through his pubic hair. Then, ever so gently, he rubbed his balls, around and around. He squatted again as he reached under, moving the soap forcefully back and forth. By the time he got to his cock, James and I had stopped moving altogether and were staring, awestruck and open-mouthed at my gorgeous father. He ran the bar up and down a few times, then picked up his dick with his other hand and did the underside. He stopped, rubbed his hands between the soap to build up a good lather, put the soap down, and then reached back down for his cock. Grabbing his dick with one hand and his balls with the other, he started rubbing the lather all around. His dick started to get bigger. I could not move I was so enthralled. As his hand was moving up and down his shaft, it was getting thicker and longer. I felt a weird tingle in my own dick, but ignored it. Suddenly James broke the silence. "Can I touch it, Uncle Michael?" Dad looked down at us, smiling, but did not answer. Instead, he reached out, took James's hand, and placed it on his dick. James just kind of held it there for a minute, but soon started rubbing the lather around as Dad had done. Not liking being left out of anything, I reached out and started rubbing Dad's balls. They felt strange. Springy, but hard. Soon both of my hands were going to town, and James brought his other one in as well. We switched and now I got to touch my dad's dick. I had no idea what size it was, having only mine, James's and Henry's to compare it to. Nevertheless, it looked and felt massive. It was so hard and felt so hot. Dad had his one hand resting on the shower curtain rod, brought the other one down, and placed it on my shoulder. I looked up at him and he had such a happy look on his face. He smiled again, and said, "Your turn, sports fans." We backed away and Dad got down the soap again. We changed positions with him again and he turned us around so our backs were to him. He started with the shoulders and worked his way down: my shoulders then James's, my back then James's. He began rubbing my ass cheeks then went down the backs of my legs and up again. His big hand pressed against my back, forcing me to bow a little. I felt his other hand and the soap in my crack. Up and down, up and down. His finger found my hole and danced around it a little. I squealed with delight. Then he moved onto James's ass and I turned around to watch. Dad was hunched down, the water hitting him in the back of the head as he soaped James's crack. I looked down at his dick and it was rock hard. Now it was time for our fronts. He followed the same routine, leaving our dicks until last. Doing me first, he rubbed my little balls and my surprisingly hard pecker repeatedly. Then James. He stood so we could rinse, his hard cock inches from our faces. I reached out to touch it again. He smiled and rested his hand on my head. James joined in and began playing with his balls. After a few minutes, Dad began to groan. He pushed our hands out of the way and took over himself. He was rubbing faster and harder than we had. He was moaning more, moving his head back and forth. "Watch this sports fans," he grunted. He aimed his dick lower, at our chests, and kept pounding. Then his whole body began to shake and stuff started flying out of the head of his dick. James and I watched, speechless, as he coated our little nipples with his spunk, moving from side to side to hit us both. He slowed down and a few dribbles hit the bottom of the tub and swirled away down the drain. Breathing heavily, he brushed my nipple with his finger, gathering up some of his stuff and brought it to his lips. He put his finger into his mouth, sucked, and brought his finger out clean. I immediately did the same thing, collecting some stuff from my chest and eating it, followed closely by James. It tasted weird, but not bad. I had some more. Dad got back out the soap, scrubbed up his dick, then our chests and rinsed us all off. He turned off the shower and we all got out to dry ourselves. "That's something only big boys can do, sports fans. You'll be able to do it too in a little while," Dad told us. "Not right now?" I asked, feeling like I just got kicked out of a really cool club. "Not right now." "Can we do it with you again, Uncle Michael?" James asked. "Sure, anytime it's just us three." "We can shower with you again, too, right Dad?" "Sure, Sport," my dad said with a huge toothy grin. *** Up Next: Chapter Two - Exploration *** Feel free to comment: shawn0adams@gmail.com Copyright (C) 2007 Shawn Adams. All Rights Reserved.