by: 70s Child

The following is a story based on the book and movie Lost Horizons. Though it is loosely, very loosely, based on the movie and the book, I am required to state that these are copy written materials. The book was written by James Hilton and the movie filmed by Columbia Pictures. Now that is out of the way, the obligatory warnings: 1) if you are underage, you should not be here, but I am not saying leave; 2) if you find love between men horrific, please get the hell out and why are you here anyway; and 3) if you find love between father and son or adults and teens offensive, just do not read. Also for those of you are very homophobic and rather see those who are gay die from AIDS or just getting attacked, I have two words for you - ** SUCK IT !!!!!! Just so you know, any relation to anyone who are real is purely coincidental.

Other stories published on Nifty:

A Brady Bunch Celebrity - X

Air Force Fun Military - X

Night of the Strippers Beginnings - X

Geostrobe Celebrity/SF - X

Good Things Come in Small Packages Young Friends

The Man I Became Adult/Youth

Kyle and Me High School - X

Is It Real or Is It a Dream Science Fiction - X

Hogan Knows Squat Celebrity - X

When You Wish Upon a Star Transsexual Magic - X


Plane flying overhead. My father Myself. The six other passengers - two men and four boys. We were flying straight through a clear blue sky to the Fiji Islands. All of a sudden, the plane lurched, jerked, and we started to descend. My father grabbed hold of me to hold me to make sure I was safe. The four boys started yelling, while the two men tried to calm them down, and with some success. The pilot said to buckle up over the loudspeaker, because we were going to have to make a water landing. The descent came fast. As we came down, the flight attendant told us to crouch with our heads between our knees, cover our heads, and to hope and pray for the best. The landing was sudden and extremely shocking. The plane, a small one, only able to carry ten passengers, seemed to skim like a flat rock on a clear lake. We bounced several times and, as if some giant hand grabbed hold of the plane, we jerked to a stop. As we started to rise up to see if we were alright. My father looked deep into my eyes.

"Jimmy, are you okay?" he asked very concerned. "Any broken bones?"

"I think I'm okay." I replied. "How about you Daddy?"

"I'm doing good." he answered me.

The four boys had their heads up. The two men, we later learned, were not related to the boys, were part of a school tour heading to the Islands. The flight attendant, who had just enough time to buckle himself into his own seat before the landing, came back to see how everyone was. We confirmed that there were broken bones, just a couple of abrasions, a couple of cuts, but nothing major. He went forward to the cockpit, but to our dismay, the pilot and co-pilot were dead. He reached into a couple of overhead bins at the front of the plane and pulled out two rather large yellow bundles. He asked one the gentlemen closest to him to help with the door, which they did, and popped the door open. Threw one of the bundles into the water, yanked a string, and it inflated into a large raft that could accommodate 10 people. He then did the same with the second. He held the strings to keep them together. The two men and four boys agreed that they should stay in one raft, while my father, the flight attendant, and I got in the second. As we pushed away, the ten of us watched the plane sink into the ocean. What was supposed to be an enjoyable two weeks began a journey into what could have been a terrifying nightmare, but turned into a wondrous adventure.


Let me tell you about myself. My name is James Earl Parsons III. My father, which should bring no surprise is James Earl Parsons, Jr., was a very wonderful person to me. I am sixteen years old, well that what it was on my last birthday. I stand 5'6", a gangly kid, with brown hair and brown eyes. My hair is moppish and I keep it kind of long, but not really when one thinks about the length some boys have their hair. It stops around the middle of my neck. It is really curly and I laugh a bit when I look at myself in the mirror. I weigh about 155 pounds. I like to swim and play basketball, so I have a descent build, just enough muscles in the right places. I might not look like Mr. Universe, but I consider that I have a nice build, and I have had others tell me how nice I look in a Speedo. My best asset is my pride and joy which has most of the boys at my school extremely envious. What hangs between my legs, soft is 8" uncut and hard grows to almost 11.5". Almost all the boys at my school have seen it in both stages, as have some of the faculty, and few girls who doubted what I have. Oh and one other thing, I am gay (gee that was so hard to figure out.) And I have one true love.

My dad stands 6'4" and weighs about 200 pounds with a solid build, nothing over- muscular and he would never be looked as Arnold Schwarzenegger. Like me, he has brown hair and he keeps it short and very business like, has a moustache and goatee and is thirty-eight years of age. He has a very hairy chest and like me, lets say I get my genes from his side of the family, because what hangs between his legs would make me look like a midget. Soft 10", also uncut, but when hard, 13.5" of raging meat.

My father and mother met when they were in college. My father was studying accounting, planning to go into business. They met at a dance. My mother came from a very wealthy family. My father was not from a wealthy family, but my grandfather owned his own business. He had a small chain of hardware stores where my father and I grew up. My grandparents had a very nice house and my father followed in his footsteps. In business, my father was very astute. He became an accountant at a large firm in a city near us. He was so good at what he did, he became chief accountant before he was thirty. The people he worked with respected him and liked him very much. He was paid very well for what he did and he invested very well. We had a very nice house close to my grandparents, which did not please my mother. She was never fond of my father's family because she felt they were beneath her. As I grew up, I had my own bedroom and my father made sure I never wanted for anything, including love. He also made sure I worked for any extras that I may want.

"You don't get anything free in life." he once told me. "You must earn everything you get. Grandpa told me that when I grew up."

I did chores as I was required to around the house. The only time I was allowed to slack off was when I was sick. But it was not "all work and no play" with my father. When my chores were done, and if I had time during the school year, I was allowed to play. During the summertime, when my chores were done, I was allowed to go out and enjoy myself with my friends. I did have a number of friends and they were fun to be around. Most of them knew of my predilection for males. Some I did not tell because their upbringing. I did not want them to judge me for who I yearned for, but who I am. I also did not want their parents to force them between their beliefs and their friends. They knew who I am as a person and probably did not want to lose me as a friend.

My father and mother married after they graduated and about a year later, I came along. A healthy baby ready to meet the new world. But when I was growing up, especially when I was about five years old, I could hear my parents arguing constantly. My mother constantly telling my father that he would not amount to much and the only good thing was between his legs. She constantly belittled him about his job and constantly told him he was nothing. I could hear doors slam.

About three months I had started kindergarten, I had come home from school. The bus let me off a couple of houses from my own. I entered the house and my mother was standing there, with her coat on and her bags packed.

"Mommy, are we going on a trip?" I only asked.

She just glared at me.

"No you little bastard, I'm leaving you and that sorry excuse of a man." she replied vehemently. "If it wasn't for you, I would have been out of here a long time ago. You and your goddamned father can go to fucking hell."

She then slapped me and the tears filled my eyes. She then put a note into my hand.

"Give that to your shit-assed father." she spewed at me. "Tell him I'm gone."

I ran to my room crying. As darkness fell, I heard the door open, thinking it was my mother. I ran downstairs and saw my father standing there. He saw that I had been crying.

"Jimbo, what is going on?" he queried.

Anytime my father wanted me to answer him, the first words out of his mouth was to call my "Jimbo". Now I tried to remember what my mother said, but could only remember one thing.

"M-M-Mommy hit me." I cried. "She called me and you names told me to give this to you."

I passed him the note she gave me, which she wrote to him. My father kept that note so that I may read it when he thought I might understand it more succinctly.

"I'm leaving you asshole and moving in with Barry Hinson. You and that little bastard can go to hell." was all it said.

She never signed it and my father read it for I thought was for hours, but was for only for a few minutes. I saw his face turn red, his hand clenched, his jaw locked, and then he turned and hit the wall beside and put a huge hole in it. He then looked at me and saw the fear on my face. I had never seen my father that angry before where you used extreme violence.

"Daddy, what's the matter?" I asked.

"Jimbo, come with me." he answered.

I thought I was going to get a spanking because I had done something wrong. But he took me to the living room, sat down, and put me on his lap. He help me tightly in a hug that I would never forget for the rest of my life. I then heard him cry. I did not see him cry, but I felt his body jerk as he wept. All he did was caress me and cry for well over an hour.

"Son, your mother has left us." he said after he finished. "She feels that we are not worthy to be around. You know Uncle Barry."

I nodded.

"She moved in with him." he continued.

At that point I felt and anger that I had never felt before or since. When I mean anger, I felt like I would kill these two people who hurt my father and myself like they did.

My father put me down.

"Jimmy, we are going to be by ourselves from here on out." he said.

"You mean I won't have a mommy?" I questioned.

"That's correct." he responded. "I have had it with people, especially women, who treat people bad. It's just us son. You and me."

At the age of five, I looked at my father like he was a god. To me it was as if he was the universe. But from that point, he was my universe. He was the man whom I would give my life for no matter what, I cared about him that much.

As I grew up, my father sort of relaxed certain rules around the house. We would walk around the house in our underwear or completely nude, which I thought at ages five through seven, was a lot of fun. At eight and nine, it was just second nature. But somewhere around ten, I realized something about myself, I loved looking at men. I loved looking at the male form. When I saw my dad from that point, my boycock would constantly get hard. When it came to sex, my father never sugarcoated anything. When I asked him where babies came from, or why does the "wee-wee" get hard, he would actually use the vernacular when describing parts of the body.

"Jimbo, never fear about using these words around the house." he told me. "Don't use them outside the house because people would not agree with that. But we are men and men use those words. I won't get mad at you."

My father was an honest, straightforward person and that is probably why I saw him as my universe of my life. When I started to realize that I started to looking at men, I went to my dad. I was afraid because you would hear around school the words, fag, queer, homo, cocksucker, and how it was unnatural for people to be like that. I was a little afraid to go to my father and tell him that I might me gay. One night, when I got the nerve, when I was eleven, and started to develop early, I was sitting in the living room in the large recliner across from my father.

"Dad, can I ask you something?" I started, with a worried look on my face.

"Jimmy, what's the matter?" he asked. "You know you can ask or tell me anything."

"Dad, I hear around school about people who like people of the same sex." I continued. "You know boys liking boys and girls liking girls. Some say it's wrong. Is it?"

My dad looked at me.

"Jimmy, I'm going to be honest with you." he responded. "There are those in this world who don't understand that two people can love each other and being the same sex. They are bigoted and they don't care about people. When I grew up, I did have sex with boys and I enjoyed it. Your grandfather did catch me once. He didn't get mad. You know your grandfather and he's not prejudice. He just told me not let anyone know and don't let your mother know. You grandma is very religious and, though she wouldn't have thrown me out of the house, she wouldn't have been happy. Why are you asking my son?"

"Well Dad, I believe I'm gay." I told him frankly.

My dad did not respond with anger, shock, or disbelief, but one of "is he sure at this age?"

"Jimmy, you're eleven." he said. "Are you absolutely sure?"

I nodded and looked at him directly at him.

"Yes Dad, I do." I replied. "Every time I look at a man or a boy, I would think how it would be to kiss him like a boy kisses a girl. How it would be to hold them and make love to them. But Dad, there is one person who I would love to be my first."

He looked at me very casually.

"Who's that?" he questioned. "Someone from school?"

"You." I responded quickly.

It was simple and down-to-earth. My father looked at me with extreme amazement.

"Jimmy, what are you saying?" he probed. "I am your father and that is so wrong."

I looked at my dad very carefully and directly into his eyes.

"Dad, I believe I know what you're thinking." I countered. "But Dad, I love you. I love you so very much. You're an amazing man. Dad, please don't hate me for this."

Tears welled in my eyes and I was ready to run to my room, because I felt that I made a huge fool of myself. But my father grabbed my arm and pulled me to him. I wept into his shirt and he just stroked my hair.

"Shhhh, my son." he said quietly.

After a few minutes, I stopped crying and looked at him with his tear-streaked face. My eyes, reddened through the crying and Dad just looked at me. I reached one hand to his neck, pulled myself to him, and gently kissed his lips, as I had seen many people do. My father stiffened just slightly, but then relaxed. I held the kiss for just a few seconds and leaned back. Dad looked at me with a passion that I had never seen him have before. I guess growing up with my mother around the house, there was no passion there. There was not even love. Now I look in my father's face and saw the love and passion he desperately needed in his life and that I wanted. My father told me once, that for someone who was so young, I could read people quite well. So I leaned into him again and this time I kissed longer and harder, and then I felt a slight brush against my lip of my dad's tongue. It was at this point that I stiffened slightly, not realizing what he was doing, but noticed how wonderful it felt. I opened my lips and welcomed his tongue into my mouth. My shorter tongue danced around his in this ballet of love. At eleven years of age, my cock had already grown. When it was hard, it was a solid 7" but not thick. My preteen dick began to swell against my father's stomach. This caused him to respond in kind. I felt his thick monster rise and press against me through his pants. After a couple minutes of passionate osculation, we released and eased back. I laid my head on his chest.

"Dad, I love you so much." I said demurely.

My father just held me.

"Jimmy, my love and my world, I love you, too." he responded.

I reached down and undid his pants and began to fish his cock out of his pants, though it was not the first time I had ever felt it. When my dad taught me about sex, he allowed me to see it grow and touch. I had already knew how big he was. Dad shivered ever so slightly, then looked at me and held me.

"One step at a time." he said. "One step at a time."

My dad took his clothes off and had me do the same. He them proceeded to make us dinner, but that night was a bit different. Dad made us steaks, potatoes, and salads. He then set the dining room table. Usually we had dinner in the kitchen and caught up on the day's events. It was our time to have father-son time. He had set candles and the fine china on the table. He lit the candles, the lights were dimmed, and music was softly playing. My dad and I loved old classic movies and we were having a romantic dinner. Dad was romancing me. And I was giving my father what he needed in his life for the longest time, someone who was going to love him as he truly needed it. We ate, talked about what happened during the day. Dad then reached out with one hand and he caressed my hand gently as a gentleman did to his lady love. I felt a wonderful tingling in my body, not just my groin. My entire being felt as if I found my one true love and I did. I felt love, warmth, and passion that he was passing to me through the touch. I also knew that from this point on our lives would never be the same. After dinner was done, Dad who usually was meticulous and made sure everything was cleaned and put away, just looked at the mess.

"Let's forget it." he said.

He picked me up as a groom carrying his bride to the bridal bed. My father carried me to his bedroom and laid me gently on the bed. He caressed my skin lightly all over my body. I laid there, as naked as the day I was born and my rod was hard. I was ready for what was about to come. Like the nervous bride, virginal and unsure, I was quite anxious. I had heard that it would hurt, but for my father, I would endure the pains of hell, if it would make him happy, to give him what he needed and what he truly wanted in his life. My father laid next to me and I teased his body as he did mine. I loved feeling the huge mat of hair that covered his chest. When I was younger, I would nestle against it feeling secure. Growing up, I would still play with it and cause him to get hard. This was no different. As I played with his chest, I leaned in and began to kiss and lick his quarter-sized nipples. This elicited a low guttural moan and this brought me to a new realm of pleasure I thought I would never know. My father's 13.5 monster slapped against his stomach and my body. It stung, but a oh so sweet, oh so wonderful pain. We kissed passionately, caressing each other. My father reached and touched my legs, my ass, my back, my nipples, my hair, my neck, my ears. I tried to follow this lead as much as I could. It was a feeling that turned him on, but I think it turned me on even more. I felt a warm substance between us that was sticky and somewhat exotic in my opinion. It was coming out of my dad, and I never had seen it before, but I had an idea of what it was. I broke our kiss, I took some on my fingers, and brought it my lips. I tasted it and felt a slight salty taste on my tongue, but it tasted nice. I was not sure if was the actual liquid or that it came from my father, so I tasted it again and I smiled at Dad.

"Dad you really taste good." I said.

He chuckled and caressed my cock and balls. It was at this point, I had not produced any cum. My father placed me on my back and kissed me again, very passionately. I could feel him caress me and I felt as if we were one, nothing in the world existed but us. He began to kiss and lick various parts of my body. He sucked on my earlobes, which I did not realize was an erogenous zone until I felt him take it in his mouth and gently pull on it. I began to moan loudly. He kissed my neck down to my chest. He sucked, licked, and gently bit my penny-sized brown nipples. They were so erect and hard, I could not believe they could get so stiff. He worked further down to my stomach, lovingly licking my bellybutton. I am extremely ticklish there and I began to giggle and squirm. I looked down at my dad and I did not see his mouth since he was still working on my navel. He looked at me with a twinkle in his eyes that told me I got you now my son. He massaged my body and opened my legs. He took his tongue and ran it up the underside of my cock, which was so hard. I swore that if someone tried to move it an inch in any direction, it would have snapped off. My dad, this wonderful man, lovingly tongued my 7" of preteen meat. He licked my balls and the area between my nuts and ass. I could not believe how wonderful it felt. My dad taught me how to masturbate. I knew all about it and I knew about the pleasures I got when I did. Even though I had not yet cum, the tingling feeling and intense pleasure I felt with my pending orgasm would make me feel great. But this was a newer, more wonderful sensation. People talk about reaching Nirvana and what my father was doing was reaching that point. He then took his cock to his mouth, slowly playing with it. His tongue and teeth slowly scraping it. The pleasure/pain I was receiving brought me even further to new heights of bliss.

"Oh Dad." I cried out. "It feels so good. Oh Dad. Please Dad. It feels ungh."

My dad began move down on my cock, taking it in his mouth. When my dad said he had sex with other men, it was an understatement. He was a master cocksucker, knowing how to bring me to the point of pleasure time and time again. He would go down and bring me to the feeling that I enjoyed when I was pleasuring myself, then stop. He would lightly caress it in his hand and continued to do this and I was writhing in pleasure

"Dad, oh Dad." I begged.

My father, who enjoyed doing this, made me feel new pleasures and continued to bring me to higher levels of ultimate paradise. As he worked my dick one more time, for some reason that new level of pleasure felt different. I began to feel the tingle in my stomach and my balls, but it began to feel like I really had to piss hard. I could not figure this out and I was ready to call out to my father.

"Dad...Dad...I've got to pee." I cried out. "Please Dad...I have to go. Get off."

As the words escaped my lips, the pleasures just hit me and my hips thrust upward into my father's mouth. A torrent of something released into his throat. The only sound that came from me was a loud moan. This continued on for just over a minute. When the pleasure ceased, I opened my eyes and looked at my father, who was lying next to me and smiled at me.

"My son has just become a man." he said.

"Dad, what happened?" I queried wearily.

He smiled and reached down with his finger and touched my stomach. He lifted to my lips a wet substance.

"My son, you have had your first cum." he replied.

"I what?" I responded.

"You just shot you first load of cum." he retorted.

As I looked at it, it did not seem plausible to me, but it was. It was actually there. Watery, barely white, but the finest sensation my father could ever give me.

As my father placed the protein to my lips, I opened my mouth and took it willingly. He smiled and just leaned down an kissed me gently on my lips.

"Jimmy, just so you know exactly what happened." he said. "When you actually shot, it was a shock to me. But at least was able to taste the first amount of your sweetness. I guess you get to have sloppy seconds."

We laughed and we both dipped our hands into the small amount of liquid on my chest and stomach and we greedily partook of the protein. My dad proceeded to clean me up by running his tongue over the remaining small spots and I lay there enjoying the sensation. When I was sufficiently recovered, I placed my father on his back, remembering what he had done to me just a short time before and began to do the same to him, mimicked his every move. I kissed him passionately, licked and sucked his earlobes, tongued the inside of his ear, moved down and worked his magnificent chest. I licked, sucked, and bit his nips, then kissed down his stomach, and felt his massive member against my ass. I wondered if I would be able to take that into my body and have him make love to me at any time. When I got to his huge 13" member and his massive sac, I began to lick around the stiff rod, wetting it with my tongue. I did not know if I would have had enough spit to cover it. I thought to myself, oh so much of him and so little tongue. I moved down to his huge nuts and took each of his eggs into my mouth. They were almost the size of jumbo grade eggs and they filled my mouth. My father moaned and became rigid, but did not come. He arched his back and enjoyed the ministration I could give him.

"OH FUCK BOY!!" he cried out. "YEAH!! DO THAT TO DADDY!!"

This spurred me on even further as I licked below his nuts in the area between his sac and his hot, hairy ass. I then moved up and began to stroke his rod, his monolithic pillar and took the head into my mouth. It filled my mouth almost completely. I let my tongue swirl around it as my father did to mine. I took as much as I could. I tried to show to my dad how much I was willing to do for him as my head moved down and I began to gag. Spit spewed from my mouth and covered his cock. I coughed for a few seconds. My dad looked at me.

"Jimmy, don't try so hard." Dad said in a comforting voice. "I know I'm huge, larger more than most men. Just take it slow and take as much as you can and know that you will make me feel so good. And curl your lips around your teeth."

My father loved me so much so that anything I could do for him was welcome by him. That is what I did. I took the head and another inch and moved my head up and down and skimmed the foreskin across the head. This caused my father almost shouting the joy he felt.


My two hands, which could not wrap around the entire shaft, moved up and down and stroked him. My father just writhed and screamed in ecstasy. This kept spurring me on and on.

"OH YEAH BOY!!!" he growled. "YEAH!!! DO IT!!!! DO IT!!!!"

My jaw began to ache and I wished I was a boa constrictor so I could dislocate my mandible so I could take more into my throat. But I continued on. One hand reached down and began to stroke his balls. This set him off as his balls moved up to his body and knew what was about to come, figuratively and literally.


It was at this point the could not be articulate, he could only moan and groan. The first shot hit my throat like a rifle at close range. It filled my throat and mouth so fast I just could not react quick enough. I began to sputter and swallow. A second and third load filled my. The fourth came quickly and I tasted it. It was very strong, but very much my father and a large part of me. After the tenth, I lost count. I think my father was not able to have true relief and this was his first great cum since my mom left. I swallowed as much as I could, but a lot dribbled down his cock and some moved down on my body and I was willing to clean up what was there. After several minutes, my father just relaxed his entire body. His cock softened just slightly and I began to pull off. I saw the large pools of juice, so I began to clean the mess, but it was more of the love I received from him. As I just finished leaning his cock, balls, and stomach, he pulled my up to him. He saw some of his cum around my lips and chin. His tongue, rough in texture began to clean me, lapped it up and swallowed his own seed.

He placed me on his body and I snuggled against the deep mat of hair like I had over the years. My father caressed me.

"Thank you Jimmy." he said softly. "Thank you my sweet one."

I looked at my father.

"I love you." I responded. "I want to be yours forever."

That moment our eyes filled with tears. My father felt conflicted, but also felt really happy of what happened.

"Jimmy, if we do this, no one must ever know about this." my father stated.

"I understand Daddy." I responded. "You are my one and only love. I would never, ever do anything to harm you or break your trust."

I began to nod off on my father and enjoyed the warm protection of his body. I then heard him breathing shallowly and knew he began to fall asleep. I nuzzled further into his body and fell asleep.

NOTE: This is the beginning of a new story that I put together after hearing the movie on an old radio station. My best friend has always said that I have the most fertile imagination, and who am I to disagree. If you want to see the movie, I would suggest the 1937 version with Ronald Coleman. It usually on Turner Classic Movie channel. I also love to hear from readers. If you have any comments, either good or bad, please email me at writhot@yahoo.com. Please put the title of the story in the subject line and put your name and where you are from so I can put it on the Readers' List.