Date: Sat, 31 Jul 1999 15:34:40 GMT
From: "Tim ." <yngtim@hotmail.com>
Subject: "Me and Dad, part 2" (M/t) (incest)

Me and  Dad, part 2

by Tim Foure

If you are under 18 or not permitted access to homosexual erotica
where you live, then you should not read this story. The other
usual disclaimers too.
___________

Needless to say, I didn't wake up during the night, although the
beer made a good substitute for the water I usually tanked up on
to wake me for my chance to touch my dad's dick. In fact, I was
pretty slow waking up in the morning. I had been awake for a few
minutes when I felt my dad sit on the foot of the bed. I forced
my eyes open and looked at him. He said, "Good morning,
sleepyhead." I just groaned.

He asked me, "How're you feeling this morning?"

I told him, "I think I'm hung over."

He said, "That wasn't really what I meant, but first things
first. I didn't think the second beer would hit you so hard. You
sure are a cheap date."

I said, "Thanks a lot."

He said, "Don't mention it. You're going to live even though you
might not feel like it right now."

I was having trouble moving from one thought to the next. About
this time I realized I was lying there with a painful piss hardon
sticking up my belly.  Finally my brain understood the message my
bladder was sending it. " I have to pee. Bad," I said.  But when
I sat up, my head throbbed, so I laid back down.

"Come on, I'll help you get to the bathroom," my dad said. He
stood up and grabbed my hand. With some gentle pulling he got me
to my feet. He put his arm around my shoulder and guided me into
the bathroom. Later when I thought about this, I realized I had
had my right butt cheek pressed against my dad's dick the whole
time. If that had happened any other time, I would have been
thrilled. I never even noticed it.

When he got me to the toilet, I just stood there for a minute.
Then I tried to bend my dick downwards so it would point at the
toilet instead of the ceiling. No dice. I said, "I can't pee.
It's too hard." I tried to lean forward to try the trick he
taught me, but once I put my hand on the wall to steady myself, I
realized that was as far as I was going to be able to go.

My dad realized it too and said, "Well, this isn't going to work.
Better use the shower."

That made no sense to me at all. I looked at him without saying
anything. He repeated, more slowly this time, "Better use the
shower."

It didn't make any more sense the second time he said it. But my
brain had finally figured out that some action was being asked
for. It just didn't know what action. So I said to my dad, "Huh?"

He laughed at me. "If you can't bend your dick down, you're going
to have to pee upwards. Do it in the shower. That way you won't
make a mess." He turned me to face the shower, slid open the
door, pushed me up to the lip of the stall, and said, "Pee."

I mulled this over. My bladder sent the message to my brain,
"That's a good idea. Do it!" I went for it. But nothing happened.
I was still in that awful stage of the piss hardon where you are
prevented from peeing by the hardon itself.

My dad told me, "Aim your dick outwards so it goes into the
shower instead of up your chest."

That made sense, so I did it. But still nothing came out.  He
asked me, "What's the matter?"

I told him, "My dick is too hard. I can't pee."

My dad reached over and turned on the tap in the sink. The sound
of running water had some effect, but not enough. Then I felt
warm water on my wrist. Suddenly a golden stream hit the back of
the shower stall. But there was no relief from the pain. It was
actually more painful to pee at that point than it had been to be
unable to pee a few seconds before.

When the relief did finally set in, I sagged back against my dad,
who was holding me against him with an arm around my chest. I
seemed to go on peeing forever. When the flow began to weaken, I
became aware of my dad's body. I could feel his soft dick against
my butt at the top of the crack. I could have sworn that I could
feel every individual hair on the front of his body as they
touched my back. The flow finally came to an end, but my dick was
as hard as it had ever been. When I shook it off, my back moved
against my dad.

He asked me, "Done?"

I told him I was. He guided me back to the bed. I can't say I
made much effort to move on my own, so he was pressed up against
me the whole way. And I loved it. I was hard as a rock as he
helped me lie down.

He went back into the bathroom. I heard the water run in the
shower for a minute. Two minutes later he handed me an aspirin
and a glass of water. Then he was gone again, but in the opposite
direction. This time he brought back tomato juice and a cup of
coffee. He said, "Sit up," so I did. He handed me the juice and
said, "Drink it straight down." I did that too. Then he handed me
the coffee. "Are you up for some talk?" he asked.

I was actually beginning to come around. "Sure," I said. I was
very conscious of the hardon sticking up from my crotch. He was
not hard at all. In fact, his dick was smaller than usual. All
that showed was a nipple of foreskin sticking out from his pubic
hair. The dick inside must have been down to barely an inch.

"What do you think about last night?" he asked.

I didn't understand the question at first. The number one
claimant for my attention was the throbbing in my head, but I was
pretty sure he wasn't talking about me getting drunk. I started a
replay in my mind's eye of what we had done the night before.
What I was remembering had all happened before. No big deal. Then
I got to the end. My jerking him off. But I had wanted his dick
for as long as I could remember, even before I knew what I wanted
it for. I guess the newness of the experience wasn't as important
in my mind as the memory of the total satisfaction I felt when it
had finally happened. It was hard to believe that THAT was what
he was talking about. So I asked him, "You mean about me cumming
on your leg?"

He said, "Well, yeah, there was that too."

That only left one thing, so I said, "Oh, you mean about me
jerking you off."

He said, "Yeah. What do you think about that?"

Details were coming back to me. I looked at his dick, which had
all but disappeared into his pubic hair. Only some empty foreskin
was visible. "Did I hurt your dick? I didn't mean to squeeze it
so tight. I'm really sorry."

"You didn't hurt my dick," he said. He sounded a little
exasperated. I was definitely not getting the point. He must have
decided the hangover was interfering with my thinking, because he
went for the direct approach, "Did jerking me off bother you?"

I was genuinely surprised. I said, "No!" Then it began to dawn on
me that it might have bothered him. The first thought that moved
through my mind, and it moved faster than any other thought had
yet moved that morning, was that he was going to tell me we
couldn't ever do it again. I got nauseous. He must have seen it
in my face, because he said, "If you're going to throw up, let's
get you to the bathroom."

It was close, but I managed to keep it down. I said, "No. I'm ok.
Did it bother you?" I can't say I was instantly sober, but I
wasn't aware of the throbbing in my head any longer. And I was so
sure of his answer that my hardon started to wilt.

"Well, I've thought about it a lot this morning while I was
waiting for you to come around. The last thing I ever wanted was
to lead you into doing something that wasn't your own idea."

"It was my idea, it really was!" I said. "I wanted to do it!" I
could see a chance here. "I was afraid you wouldn't want to do
it!"

He laughed. "I've been thinking for weeks that you were up to
something. When I figured out where you seemed to be headed, I
just tried to make it easier for you to get there. But you're
like me, so damn cautious. Well, a couple or three beers always
loosens me up. Then I can do whatever it was I wanted to do all
along. I figured like father, like son. And the second beer did
it for you. But I'm sure glad you didn't pass out before you got
there."

"Me too!" I said. My hardon was back, and the throbbing had moved
from my head to my crotch. His dick was starting to peek out from
its hiding place in his pubic hair too, but it was just coming
back to what I always thought of as its normal size. I leaned
forward and hugged him.

He laughed at me again. "You sure are a cheap drunk," he said
with his head over my shoulder. I laughed too and he hugged me
back.

He was still holding me by my shoulders when he looked straight
into my eyes and said, "You know this has to be a secret we keep
between us, right?"

"I know it," I said.

"I figured you did. So how about some lunch," he asked after he
let go of me.

I was a little disappointed. I was thinking we would move right
on to jerking each other off. I was certainly ready. He must have
seen that in my face too, because he stood up and said, "Food
first. Sex after. Maybe."

I asked him, "Maybe?" I tried to sound pitiful. I must have been
too successful, because he laughed at me again.

"Hey, we just broke some ice here. I didn't promise to be your
sex slave or anything. I'm an old man. I don't have the perpetual
hardon that you do." He pointed to my hardon to illustrate his
argument.

I was actually kind of embarrassed about it right then, but that
made me laugh too. I jumped out of bed, a mistake since the
hangover wasn't truly gone but only pushed to the background
behind more important matters. I wobbled a little, and my dad
grabbed my arm to steady me. He pushed me ahead of him into the
kitchen. I lagged the whole way, making him press his front into
my back. I could feel his dick bumping me at the top of my crack.
It got fuller along the way, but it didn't get hard.

After lunch (it turned out I had slept until almost noon), the
aspirin had kicked in and I started to feel better. The only
thought on my mind was how soon we could get back to the sex.
Things felt a little different between us too. I can't say there
was a greater intimacy. We had always been extremely close. But
before there had been this one thing that I wanted and that I
couldn't tell him about. It wasn't like that any more. I guess
what I felt was freedom.

I made use of my new found freedom as we finished putting the
lunch things away. "Wanna fuck?" I said. He and I had just seen
"Same Time, Next Year". One character asked the other one that
question and said she thought it was a great little ice breaker.
I also got a hardon to illustrate my question.

It didn't faze my dad a bit. He looked down at my hardon and
said, "Maybe later." Then he picked up the newspaper to look at
the movie section. Twenty minutes later we were dressed and out
the door. It was all I could do to sit still for the two hours we
were in the theater. I felt like a kid with a new toy that I
couldn't wait to play with. Actually, I guess I was.

When we got home, I was naked before my dad even made it to the
bedroom. He was moving at his usual pace, whereas I was rushing
around like a crazy man. I sat on the bed and watched him
undress. I had a hardon, of course. He noticed it too. Actually,
he couldn't have missed it given the way I was sprawled backwards
on the bed with my legs spread. "We can probably get our reading
time in before dinner. I hate to miss out on that," he said. I
was so horny that I considered jerking off by myself right in
front of him. But it didn't happen, because he held out his hand
and I took it, and he pulled me up off of the bed.

Once we were settled on the sofa, I started to calm down. I was
using dad's leg as a pillow, and he laid his hand flat on my
chest. It was our normal position. Apparently I was craving body
contact more than actual sex. I can't say that my book became the
only thing on my mind, but I was able to read it and follow the
story line. As he usually did while we were reading, he would rub
his hand around my chest and belly. He did it in an absentminded
way, starting and stopping and even removing his hand completely
when he needed to turn a page. It had a soothing effect this
time, very different from what it had become when I was trying to
will his finger to brush against my dick. My hardon even
deflated. I became quite relaxed.

Toward the end of the hour, I became aware that my dad was
rubbing his thumb over my nipples separately after the palm of
his hand had slid across them. He hadn't speeded up his rubbing,
but he had changed the character of it slightly. The ball of his
thumb even seemed to move across the point of my nipple more
slowly than his palm had. I lost interest in my book immediately.
I felt my nipples tighten into two tiny sensitive points. I could
have sworn his touch became lighter. My dick sprung into a
painfully hard erection. I moaned, something I would never have
done before.

"Feel good?" he asked.

"Oh, yeah!" I said. I dropped my book on the floor and reached
over my head with my left hand. I was searching for his dick.
When I found it, I was surprised that it was only half hard. I
couldn't do much more than jerk on it awkwardly from the position
I was in, so I just held it. As it had at night when I held it,
it got hard in my hand. Periodically it would throb slightly.

"That feels good too," he said.

I just grunted. I was paying just enough attention to the way I
held his dick that I wouldn't squeeze it painfully. But my mind
was firmly fixed on the progress of his hand around my chest,
especially his thumb. As the ball of his thumb came close to a
nipple, I held my breath. As it passed over, the feel of the
thumb against the nub of the nipple gave me a chill-like but
almost burning sensation that seemed to shoot down both my legs.
I could see my dick bouncing above my belly to the beat of my
heart.

As he dragged the ball of his thumb slowly across the point of my
left nipple, my dad said, "We need to start working on dinner."

I said, "Awwww!" and let go of his dick. I must have said it in a
particularly pitiful manner, because he laughed at me. Then he
rubbed my belly briskly before he stood up, the usual signal that
our reading time was over. He held out his hand to pull me up,
and I took it. I went with his pull to stand up, and then I
followed through and pressed against him to give him a hug. His
dick, still mostly hard, pressed against my belly. Mine, rock
hard, pressed against his thigh. He hugged me back.

"You can tear up the lettuce," he said. "You can work off some
energy on that." He kept an arm around my shoulder and walked us
into the kitchen. It was a while before my hardon went away,
although his was gone quickly. My nipples felt so hot that I was
surprised they didn't glow.

After dinner, my dad asked me if I wanted the shower first. I
asked him if he remembered that we used to shower together. He
said, "Sure, from when you were a baby. You used to pee on my
foot when you were real small."

"I don't remember the pee part," I said. "Could we do it again?"

"Not the pee part," he said. We both laughed at that. "Go turn on
the water and get the temperature right."

I did. Of course my faithful old hardon had returned. I think I
had been hard, off and on, about half of the day. Dad opened the
door and got in with me.

"I think the bathtub at home was bigger than this shower," he
said as we tried to arrange ourselves around each other. "Or you
were a lot smaller. Probably both."

"Yeah," I said. "I'll wash you first, ok?" I couldn't wait to get
my hands on his dick.

I started soaping up his back, with the shower spray washing off
the lather almost as fast as I put it on. I told him that and
said that we probably needed to turn the shower off or just let
it trickle to keep the water at the right temperature. He said,
"Sounds good." So I did it.

I enjoyed every minute of lathering him up. The hair in the crack
of his butt and on his legs made the lather especially foamy.
Since my object was to get my hands on his dick, I virtually
ignored his asshole. When I got to the bottom of his crack, he
put both hands against the side of the shower and spread his
legs. I washed his perineum and then his balls slowly and
carefully. He said, "I wish you could see how funny it looks to
have a hand sticking out from between your legs washing your
balls." I said I wished I could too.

When I was finished with his back, I told him to turn around. He
had a hardon, sticking upwards at a 45 degree angle. The foreskin
was open slightly at the end, and I could see the slit inside. It
was all I could do not to simply grab it. He told me to hand him
the soap and turn around, so I did. He lathered me as I had done
him, complete with the hand appearing suddenly between my legs to
grab my balls. I told him he was right, it really looked funny.

After he finished with my feet and stood up, I started to turn
around so I could wash his front side. He told me to stay as I
was. He then pressed up against my back and began to lather up my
chest. To do that he reached around me from both sides, sometimes
hugging me tight back against him. I could feel his hard dick
sliding around against the top of my butt and the small of my
back. My nipples responded immediately to his slick fingers,
becoming hard little points of sensitivity. When he reached my
crotch, he took my balls in one hand to wash them gently while he
took my dick in his other to stroke it slowly and lightly. I
think he knew that any pressure on my dick would bring me to an
instant orgasm, so he was ever so careful. Then he finished off
with my legs.

I turned around and took the soap from him. He asked me, "Which
way, front or back?"

I hadn't thought that far ahead. But I could see his dick if he
faced me, so I said, "Front."

My hands were on his shoulders right away. I tried to work his
nipples as he had done mine, and they got hard and pointed. I
looked at his face, expecting to see his eyes closed as mine had
been so he could concentrate on the sensations. But instead, I
saw that he was looking at me. He smiled and I smiled back. When
I got to his crotch, I washed his dick and balls as he had mine.
Then I pulled the foreskin back and washed under it. Memories
came pouring back of those years of washing under my imaginary
foreskin to jerk off.  I said, "Do you remember teaching me how
to wash under your foreskin?"

"No," he said. "I must have taught you good though, because you
still remember. But if you wash me much more right there, I'll
cum."

I had been waiting all day for this moment. I didn't want it to
end so soon, and I realized he didn't either. So I moved on to
his legs and down to his feet. His soapy hardon was in front of
my face as I looked up after I finished. I didn't know what to do
next.

He told me to sit down. Then he sat on the shower floor in front
of me. Everything was covered with lather and we were both
sliding around. He lifted my left leg and slid his right one
under it. Then he slid his left leg over my right. He reached for
my shoulders and pulled us together, heads over each other's
shoulder. We each wrapped our arms around the other and just
rocked against each other. I could feel his dick sliding against
my belly, and I could feel mine sliding in the hair on his. My
nipples were brushing his chest hair too. They seemed to become
more and more sensitive.

As we rocked back and forth, he slid his hands down and grabbed
both of my butt cheeks. He pulled to press my crotch more firmly
into him, so I did the same thing to him. I could feel my orgasm
building. I half wanted it to happen now and half didn't. When I
knew it was inevitable, I started to say, "I've got to cum," but
I never got it all out before I started to shoot. It was the
hardest cum of my life. My dad kept me pressed hard against him
and rocked me while I shot against his belly. My attention was
completely fixed on the wonderful sensations spreading out from
my dick. I was oblivious to the rest.

When I finished and came back to my self, I realized that my dad
hadn't cum. I slid my hand between us and got ahold of his dick.
I started jerking it furiously. He whispered in my ear, "Go easy,
go slow," so I did. I had to get my other hand in between us too,
to hold my sensitive dick head from making contact with anything
that would rub it. We rocked like that for perhaps five minutes
when he started to shoot. I was surprised by the swelling of his
dick with each shot of cum. I hadn't noticed that the night
before.

We didn't move when he was finished. We just sat there wrapped
around each other with the water trickling down the wall behind
me and under us both on its way to the drain.

My dad was the first one to move. He helped me stand up and then
stood up himself. We were both covered in what was left of the
lather and a double load of cum. He pulled the faucet knob and we
were inundated by the water, which had stayed at the right
temperature for the hour and ten minutes we later found out we
had been in the shower. It took some more lathering to get the
cum out of my dad's chest and belly hair, and then we rinsed each
other off. We even dried each other's puckered, wrinkled bodies
when we were finished. I was exhausted from the strength of my
orgasm, and my dad looked as if he was too.

"I don't think I'm too long from bed, how about you?" he asked.

"Yeah me too," I said.

We cuddled up in our usual position on the sofa to watch tv for a
little while, but we were falling asleep, so we went off to bed.
I laid on my side and he pulled me back against his belly. I felt
his his dick against my crack and his thighs press against mine
as he curved them up under me. He left his arm draped over me.
Then I was gone until the next morning.

Comments appreciated. Send them to yngtim@hotmail.com. Flames
ignored.