Date: Sat, 20 Nov 2004 04:59:59 -0600
From: Kryton Ex <krytonex@hotmail.com>
Subject: The Most Important Thing

Disclaimer: This story is about father/son love.  If you find
this offensive, stop reading while you still have disclaimer
left.  This story is completely fictional and the characters
only exist in the realm of my mind. Comments are welcome,
flames are not.


The Most Important Thing


My wife was the smartest, most beautiful woman I had ever
met.  She had golden hair that flowed down to her waist and
the deepest blue eyes in the word.  I got lost in those eyes
so many times.  When she died in child birth I felt more pain
than I could ever put into words.  When the complications
started they pushed me from the room, so I could only see her
through the small glass window.  But I saw the exact moment
when the light faded from her eyes, it felt like someone
reaching into my chest and ripping out my heart.  If I could
have died right then I probably would have.

But what God takes with one hand he gives back with another.
And as I sat in that waiting room, curled in my mother's lap
unable to move from the shock, a nurse brought me my newborn
son.  As I held him in my arms, I could see it in his eyes,
my life was not over.  I still had something to live for.  He
looked at me and smiled; totally unaware of the suffering
around him.  For him, I would go on; I would move mountains
for him if he needed me too.  That was my vow to my beloved
wife.

To say I spoiled Patrick would probably be an understatement.
I was just incapable of telling him no.  Whenever he wanted
something, even if I was hesitant, he would hug my leg, flash
me that cute little smile and I was mesmerized.  Fortunately,
he wasn't a greedy child.  Sometimes he would want to do
things that I felt he was too young for or too frail for. He
had his mother's golden locks and intense eyes, how could I
have not thought of his as fragile.  But in the end, he was
my little champ, beating larger, stronger children on a
regular basis.

We were more like best friends than father and son.  So at 16
when he stopped talking to me I began to worry.  I wondered
what I did wrong.  What I said that made him push me away.  I
continued to question him on the subject but he kept telling
me that nothing was wrong.  But I wasn't insane.  I knew
something was wrong.  I just didn't know what.  After months
of probing him, I finally gave up.  If he wanted me to know
he would tell me.  It wasn't soon after that I heard a soft
tap on my door.

"Dad, can we talk?"

"Sure," I said, sitting on the edge of my bed.

He watched his thumbs intently while rolling them over each
other. "I don't know how to say this."

"Just say it." I gently suggested, placing my hand on his
shoulder.

"I think I am gay." He muttered.

"That's it?!?!" I exclaimed, taking him into my arms in an
embrace.  The big "problem" was nothing more than him feeling
isolated about his sexuality.  We could get through this,
with support, and understanding he would be fine.  Hell, this
was covered in the three hundred parenting books I read after
he was born.  I knew exactly how to handle it.  "Son, you
know I love you no matter what.  I can't believe you didn't
come to me months ago."

"And I'm attracted to you."

I froze.  He did not say what I thought he just said.  I
replayed it in my mind.  Yup, that is what he said alright,
"And I'm attracted to you," loud and clear, right into my
chest.  This was not in the three hundred parenting books.  I
did not know what to say.  "What's a little attraction?  I'm
sure it happens all the time.  Didn't Freud say something
about that?  It's okay."

"It's not a little.  It hurts to be near you I want you so
bad.  Your smell, your smile, even the feel of your body
against mine.  I'm hard right now."

I slowly released my son and looked him in the eye.  I was
speechless at this point.  All I could say was, "Oh..."

That really hurt him.  He started to run for the door
sobbing.  I grabbed him and held him close to me.
"Shhhh...honey, its okay.  You know nothing could make me
stop loving you."  It took over an hour to calm him down.  We
just sat on my bed and I rocked him like I did when he was a
little kid.  Eventually he calmed down and we talked about
something other than how much he wanted me.  I don't think I
could have handled that conversation twice in a row.  We laid
in my bed and watched the Comedy channel for awhile.  He
curled up on my bare chest and fell asleep.

I stared at the ceiling with his boner pressed against my
thigh trying to figure out what to do.  Put him in therapy?
I figured the mere suggestion would make him feel like a
freak.  Pretend he never said it.  If he was willing to
cooperate that seemed like the best plan to me.

The next morning he was bright and chipper as if a weight had
been lifted off his chest.  Well it had been, and placed
right on mine.  We were talking again, we were a family
again, so I must admit I too was happy.  The next night
Patrick came to my bedroom again.  "Hi dad, mind if I watch
TV with you?"

I lifted the covers next to me. "Hop in."  He cuddled up
against me and we watched television until he fell asleep.
He came to my room the next night and the night after.  When
he was younger he slept in my bed every now and again.  When
he shut down he didn't come to my room at all, now it seemed
as though he was moving in.  I didn't mind though, if that is
what he needed to deal with his feelings I was fine with
letting him sleep in my bed.

But when he grabbed my dick that caused some problems.  It
was the fifth night in a row he had slept in my bed.  I felt
his hands caressing the hairs on my thigh and my whole body
tensed up.  I just knew he wasn't about to try what I thought
he was.  But he did try.  He moved his hand up my thigh and
gently rested it on my package.  He gave it a few good
squeezes before the shock wore off and I was able to stop
him.  "Patrick, no.  I'm your father, you can't touch me like
that."  He mumbled sorry, and that was that.  Until the next
day when he started licking my left nipple.  That sent
shivers through my body.  It had been so long since I last
felt someone's soft wet lips pressed against my skin.  But I
had to stop him.  It was just wrong to do things like that
with your own kid.

Each day was another chance for him to try to seduce me.  Our
nightly discussions seemed to be why he couldn't perform any
sexual act on me, not for five minutes or three minutes or
thirty seconds.  Eventually I got so angry I told him that he
could no longer sleep in my bed.  I think it was the first
time I had ever yelled at him.  Actually I know it is.  He
ran to his room in tears and I let him go.

The next day I get a call at work.  "I'm sorry dad.  I know I
am sick and not the kind of son you wanted.  I am so sorry I
couldn't be the son you wanted."  He sounded drozy, his words
were slurred.

"Where are you? Why aren't you at school?"

"I'm sorry da..." I heard the phone drop to the floor.

I drove home at 90 miles an hour praying he hadn't done what
I thought he had.  Praying he had just gotten drunk and
passed out.  When I got home he was passed out in his bed,
pale and clammy, half the medicine cabinet sitting in his
room.  I carried him to the car and raced him to the
emergency room.

I sat in that same waiting room where I first held him.  I
prayed.  I bargained.  I did everything in my power to get my
boy back.  I knew if he didn't make it, I wouldn't either.  I
replayed every moment.  I never regretted anything more in my
life than I regretted yelling at him.  When the doctor came
out and told me he would survive it was like him telling me
the sun would rise tomorrow.  I wept.

I only got to see him for a moment.  They were going to
transfer him to an institution for observation.  I hugged him
and made him promise never to scare me like that again.  I
tried to make him understand how much I loved him, but there
were people in the room and I didn't want to sound scary.

The days he spent in the institution seemed to last forever
for me.  When I finally got to take him home I was so happy.

"Are you hungry?"

"Nah, I'm fine."

"Are you sure, you look kind of pale."

"I'm sure."

"I'll fix you something light."

"Dad, stop it."

"I just don't know what to do.  Tell me what to do." I
sighed.

"Hold me and tell me you love me."

I sat down next to him and pulled him close to me.  "You know
I love you more than anything in this world.  I'm sorry I
yelled at you.  I can't live without you."

"If you love me so much why do I disgust you?"

"You don't disgust me.  I think you are beautiful."

"Then why can't you make love to me?"

"It's not that I `can't' I just don't want to hurt you."

He looked up at me, those beautiful blue eyes pleading. "You
won't hurt me."

What could I do?  I kissed him.  His mouth parted and his
tongue mingled with my own.  His hand slowly moved down my
chest and rested on my crotch.   I kissed down his soft cheek
and buried my face into the nape of his next.  He groaned
softly, I thought that was so sexy.  I pulled his shirt up
over his head and he unbuttoned mine and slipped it off my
shoulders.  I pushed him on his back and toyed with his
nipples on at a time.  I moved back up to his mouth leaving a
trail of kisses across his chest and neck.  I kissed him
passionately with my weight causing him to sink deeper into
the bed.

He broke our kiss long enough to say, "Take off your pants."
I stood up and dropped my pants and underwear.  He did the
same, arching his back on the bed to pull them off.  I
climbed back on top of him and began kissing again.  He tried
to roll on top of me and I let him.  He kissed down my chest
and went straight for my cock.  It got so hard as I watched
his pale little hand gently stroke it.  Then those beautiful
pink lips leaned in and kissed the head.  A string of precum
was made when he moved back.  He licked his lips and smiled
at me.  I almost came right then.  He engulfed half my cock
with his mouthed.  I ran my fingers through his hair as I
slowly fucked his face.  He kissed up and down my dick,
stopping to play with and suck my balls, then starting back
again.  I was in heaven.  As he was stroking my dick he
called to me, "Daddy?"

"Yes?" I tried not to groan.

"What would you say if I asked you to fuck me?"

I became hesitant. "Um...I don't know."

"Please." He begged; licking my cock some more to make sure
all the blood was in the right head.

"Okay, but if you don't like it, tell me and I will stop."

He smiled and laid on the bed on his stomach.  I got on my
knees, rolled him over and pulled him close to me.  Putting
his feet on my shoulders I leaned into him.  I felt my dick,
now dripping with precum up against his hole.  I slowly began
to push it in.  He had his eyes closed but it didn't look
like I hurt him.  I pushed in a bit more.  When I was all the
way in I asked.  "Are you okay?"  He nodded.  So I slowly
began to fuck my son.

He bit his bottom lip as he tried not groan.  But it didn't
work.  "Oh daddy, please don't stop.  Oh god, you feel so
good inside me."  His hips rocking to meet my thrusts.  I
don't think I had ever felt more desire than I did at that
very moment.  I took his cock in my hand and began stroking
it.  Soon he was cumming all over his chest and face and I
was cumming inside him.

I collapsed on top of him in a heap of exhaustion and sweat.
He wrapped his arms and legs around me and whispered. "I love
you daddy."

I melted against him.

_________________________________________
For other stories by me check out:
/college/games-we-play
/incest/his-fathers-love
/sf-fantasy/warlock-journals/
/highschool/scott-and-scamp/
/incest/alls-fair-in-love-and-war