Date: Sun, 12 Oct 2008 10:53:57 -0700 (PDT) From: Charles Rascal Subject: My boys' club, my son, and naked Daniel - Part TWO When my son entered the room, Calvin and I were all smiles, our cocks hard and pointing in his direction, as if we were standing at attention, ready for sex, which, of course, we were, but we weren't ready, we'd been ready, and we'd been having sex, and now we were going to have lots more of it! "Hello, Brad," I said to my son, who was standing there, with just the slightest grin on his face, one of those looks that says you're astounded, but you're very happy too! And, the bulge at the front of briefs, which was all he was wearing, showed just how many inches of happiness there was. "Come here, baby, meet Daniel," I said, pointing to the handcuffed "victim" on the bed. His cock, too, was straight up in the air, as if it were waiting for someone to do something more to it. "You know Calvin, of course." Brad smiled at the boy who he had seen in the house a number of times, but never nude. Calvin's dark skin glistened in the light. "Come here, baby," Calvin said to my son. "I've been wanting you for so long!" "Really? Oh, shit, I've been wanting you!" He took a few steps towards Calvin, who put his arms around my son and bent down to kiss my little boy on the lips. He released one arm so he could reach down and rub his hand up and down on the outside of my son's briefs. "Ummmmm," said Brad. "Oh, oh, that feels good." "Daddy," Calvin asked me. "Daddy, can I fuck him? Is it OK? Please?" "Yes, baby, you can fuck my baby boy. You'll find that he's nice and tight but he'll work with you, as he loves to take it up the ass." "Wow," said Calvin. "Wow." He dropped to his knees and smelled, then sucked on Brad's briefs. "Are these your briefs, Daddy?" "Yes," I said. "I wore them yesterday and Brad wore them to school this morning." "Cool!" He looked up at my son. "So, you like underwear and jocks, too, huh?" Brad nodded. "Good. I'll want you to come with your daddy to practice some day so you can ride in his back seat with me afterward and I can taste your briefs and you can suck on my jock strap. I promise you, it will be soaking with sweat. Won't it, Daddy!" I nodded and smiled. Calvin was a "sweater." He could produce lots of sweat that was overwhelming in its strong odor and delicious taste. Calvin picked up my son, his muscular arms surrounding the little boy, and lay him gently on the bed, then climbed up beside him, and began kissing him again. I thought he would never stop kissing him on the mouth. As they kissed, their hands roamed around each other's bodies, and Calvin finally put his thumb inside the waistband of my son's underwear and slowly began pulling it down. Brad raised up and helped him remove it. Calvin impatiently pulled them down and off and then reached immediately for the boy's cock which he began to rub lightly, then began to masturbate him. They were still kissing. Calvin pulled back, finally, grinned at my son and then reached over and lightly gave him a quick kiss. "Man, you can give tongue for a little boy! Daddy taught you that, didn't he!" Brad nodded. He licked his lips and ran his hand over Calvin's face. "You're so hot, Calvin. I want you to fuck me, and fuck me good and rough, OK? Will you eat me first? I love to be eaten." Calvin broke into a big grin. "Baby, that's exactly what I have in mind. And when I finish eating you and fucking you, then I'm gong to take care of Danny here. He can watch us get it on and we'll see if he doesn't shoot his load right up to the ceiling fan! I've got the power, man, I've got the power to fuck you and then go right on and pound his white ass. He's been staring at my crotch too many times in that shoe store and I know he wants to suck on my big black cock and then get it shoved into that white shoe-store ass of his!" * * * Meanwhile, Maurice was sucking his father's cock, delighted to be making up for lost time, as his dad had been on a business trip for three days and he had missed the daily sex they'd had for several years. Even though he knew his dad, as always, had had sex with at least one boy a day, boys a lot younger than Maurice, probably. He would hear all the details later, after they were both exhausted from their incestuous love-making, and Maurice lay in his father's comforting arms, listening to tales of all the sucking and fucking and fingering and kissing and then his father would pull out a pair of small white briefs from under the pillow, heavily stained, and hold them up to Maurice's nose and whisper, "These belonged to a kid named Tyrell, darker than you, with an uncut one - daddy got some cream cheese! Maurice was both excited to hear how his father had seduced the boys, bringing them to his hotel room and giving them their first taste of gay sex, multiple times in just a few hours, and jealous of the fact that his father was having sex without him. Of course, Maurice wasn't exactly celibate while his father was gone - he was so wildly popular that he could have kept a sign-up sheet at the front door and it would have filled up instantly. He was also thinking of going over to the home of Brad where he would be able to get a good fucking by Brad's dad (that's me, of course) and let the young boys suck off his big black dick. At 15, Maurice was the envy of his classmates. The girls would lie in their beds at night, sliding their wet fingers in and out of their pussies, bringing themselves to climax, fantasizing about being fucked by Maurice, the star basketball player, wrestler, and all-around heartthrob. His short-cropped hair, his dark skin, beautiful large eyes, muscular, tall build - aaah, just thinking about lying under him while he fucked away brought orgasms by the dozens! Many of the boys were, at the same time, masturbating in their beds or being sucked off by their little brothers, while they too fantasized about Maurice making love to them. In their case, at least with some of them, it wasn't fantasy, but memory. For Maurice probably held the record for fucking the most boys at his high school - and for getting fucked, too, by his classmates, teachers, and, of course, constantly, for years, by his father. Maurice was grateful that his father had not bathed before allowing him to service him. He had come straight from the airport, deliberately wearing a pair of Maurice's boxer briefs for three days straight, and, while he had showered and otherwise cleaned up, he had tried to keep his groin from getting any soap in the hotel shower, so his natural, musky funk trapped in Maurice's snug boxer briefs that had begun the trip with Maurice's sweat and piss stains, along with a generous load of Maurice's cum shot into them two days in a row, knowing his father would want them that way, slipping them into his suitcase while his wife was out of the room, and putting them on, once he was in the hotel room. Back home, Clarence had allowed Maurice to undress him and make out with him, and then he lay down on Maurice's bed, and let his son slowly spread open his legs and move in, sniffing him and licking the insides of his legs and moaning with pleasure as he smelled his father's groin, damp with perspiration. It had to have been at least 20 minutes of constant licking and kissing his daddy all over, from his navel to beneath his balls, tasting and kissing and stopping to say things like, "I love you, Daddy. I LOVE you!" before he finally licked his way up his father's thick black shaft and took the head in his mouth, working back the foreskin to get the cheesy taste of his dad's dirty cock. Maurice's dad, Clarence Broyard, was more olive-skinned, his Creole ancestry giving him a beautiful skin tone; having married a very dark woman, he wasn't surprised that Maurice came out looking much more like the boy's mother's side of the family. As his father had done to him, Clarence could not wait to begin having sex with his beautiful son. Clarence had such fond memories of servicing his father, lying on his bed as a boy, moist with sweat from being horny, playing slowly with his cock, falling asleep and waking up, continuing to touch its hardness, and having his father come in his room in the middle of the night and, without a word being spoken, insert lubed fingers in the boy's ass, offer his cock to be sucked and tasted, then standing impatiently while his young son rubbed lube over his dad's beautiful cock that, moments later, was, as his father loved to say, "knocking at Clarence's door, begging to come inside and leave a gift of seed." By the time Clarence was being "knocked," he knew all about "seed" and many other things in the rarified world of New Orleans "high-yellow Negroes" as they called themselves then. His father had never even hinted at having sex until he reached puberty and began to play with this wonderful toy that hung, long and thick, between his legs. But, once he reached that age, his father carried on a family tradition and began making love to him, slowly, gently, passionately, much to the sheer delight of Clarence. His father would sometimes lend him out to his friends, always sitting in a corner, smoking one of his thin cigarettes, watching one of the college professors or doctors or lawyers make love to his son, as they went down on the cock that seemed enormous for the slender body, but which could spurt out "seed" as much as any high school boy. Clarence enjoyed these frequent trysts, especially with his father watching, slowly masturbating, sometimes with the son of the man sitting on the floor in front of him, waiting to have Clarence's father aim his cock at the boy's mouth and shoot the load straight into his eager hole. But, Clarence always wanted his father first over any of the men who played with him, as much as he enjoyed these outings,as he was his father and he was the first man to do everything - feed him his cock, eat his ass, suck him, suck his nips, fuck him - and the bond between father and son was very strong. When Maurice had reached puberty (when he was barely 10), known to his father by his son's sudden shyness, covering himself when he walked to and from the bathroom instead of boldly walking back and forth naked, and his obvious need for deodorant, plus just the hint of underarm hair and tiny tufts of pubic hair when Clarence could get a peek, he decided it was time to pounce. He began exposing himself to his son, letting him see his cock very thick and nearly fully hard. He would scratch his pubic hair while standing naked in his son's room, talking to him about something inconsequential, and be very aware of how his son kept sneaking looks of astonishment at his father's large cock. Then he made his moves. He began sitting in the chair in his son's room, Maurice on the floor in front of him, and talk to him about sex. Maurice listened eagerly and Clarence, to demonstrate what he was talking about, slipped off his clothes, told Maurice to hand him a pair of his dirty underwear out of his hamper, and, to Maurice's astonishment and absolute delight, slowly masturbated into the underwear while talking about jacking off, cum, getting girls pregnant, and on and on. Maurice, his face inches from his father's cock and his slowly moving hand, looked in wonderment at the large, hard cock which he'd never seen so big and so thick and so rock-hard, and gasped when his dad pumped several shots of jizz into his underpants. "There," Clarence said, wiping his brow with a dry part of his son's briefs," that's how you masturbate. Now, drop those clothes on the floor, sit here on my lap, and let me help you do it, too." And he did. Maurice didn't say that he'd been doing this for a little while, sometimes pumping his own loads into his father's dirty underwear (like father, like son, he thought!), so he let his father's large, warm hand slowly stroke him back and forth while his father's other arm pulled him close to him, Maurice leaning in to his father, and receiving soft kisses on his cheek, then as the masturbating began to become more rapid, his father said, huskily, "Kiss Daddy on the mouth," and they had their first "french kiss," tongues in and out, sucking each other's, while Maurice began to pant, and Clarence did too, and the dad pulled back in time to see his son's jizz shoot right in with his own. "Now, here's a treat, son," Clarence said, as he lifted the briefs to his mouth and began licking and sucking at the cum. "Shit, baby," he said, with a grin, "I don't know which is yours and which is mine. And I don't care." "Can I taste it, Daddy?" Maurice asked and Clarence held his boy's dirty briefs up to his son's face. Maurice leaned in, with his dad's hand still holding his still-hard boy cock, and tasted the cum. "Ummm," he said, "that tastes good, Daddy." Clarence smiled and began to masturbate his son again. "Let me do it a second time so you'll know for sure how to do it to yourself - and then you can do mine, just to make sure." The thought of playing with his dad's cock, the look of his dad's smiling face, his lips and chin shiny with cum, the taste of it in his own mouth -- well, he didn't last long before he was releasing a second load into his underwear. This time, his dad held them up immediately for Maurice to eat his own jizz. "Enjoy it, baby, then when you do me, you can eat mine all by itself, too, OK?" Maurice nodded and sucked on the inside of his briefs' pouch, trying to get every bit of the messy cum that covered the whole piss-stained pouch. Once they had masturbated one another in Maurice's chair in his bedroom (and, yes, his father did blast out a load, this time into Clarence's hand which he had held up for Maurice to lick clean, not missing a drop that way), they began to have sex on a regular basis. It seemed that they were almost never clothed when they were alone in the house. Even when they were in the car, Clarence would unzip his pants and let Maurice watch him masturbate. Sometimes, to avoid a wreck, he would pull over along St. Charles Avenue and let Maurice lean over and finish the job, first with his hand, then with his mouth, as they had progressed quickly from masturbating one another to sucking off one another.. Maurice found car sex exciting and he felt hot, even with the air conditioning on. Clarence would laugh and rub his son's head and leave his cock out of his pants until they were close to their destination, letting Maurice look at it, still hard, still wet, still beautiful, and encourage him to touch it, slowly move the skin back and forth, sort of a hand job in slow motion, even when Clarence had to admit that he, the master of multiple orgasms, was done -- for a few hours. At home, they did a variety of things that were all fun, all sex, all so hot for both of them. One game they loved to play: He had Maurice stand in front of him, a few feet back, and Clarence would begin rapidly masturbating, aiming at his son's face and - splash! splash! - the cum would hit him on his eyebrows, on his cheeks, on his nose, and slowly run down his face, as his father shot picture after picture. Maurice was so cute, sticking out his tongue to catch some of the jizz running down his face and tasting it, looking all the time at his father who would call him over, have him squeeze his head, and use his little finger to wipe off that last drop. Then he would have Maurice return to where he had been standing and jack off on to his father, hard, straight shots of cum, like bullets fired rapidly from a gun, hitting is father's tits and abdomen and his father's smiling face, and the licking and "cleaning up" would begin all over again. Maurice liked to sit on his father's lap with his father's hard cock sticking up between Maurice's legs and Maurice's smaller one tucked down out of sight. It looked as if the big monster cock belonged to Maurice and he loved how it looked! He would start to masturbate "himself" and aim it back when his daddy would whisper, "We're getting close," and shoot the warm cum all over his small, smooth chest. Yummy, it tasted good! Occasionally, Maurice would go with his father when he took out the van with the tinted windows and the camper bed in the back. They would go to different parts of town, or even nearby suburbs, and find boys - it was so, so easy - there were always young boys either lost, or walking alone, or riding their bikes (the van could hold a bicycle inside), or sometimes a boy would just come over to the rolled-down window and agree to have sex with Clarence, just like that! In any case, no matter how they were found, Maurice got to watch his dad lie back and enjoy a blow job from the very happy boy or else he would join in and suck off the boy while he was sucking his dad. Afterward, Clarence would clean up everyone, lie back nude, with the boy in his arms, and smoke a cigarette, with the little windows at the top now open, now that the sounds of sex had stopped, and the fan sucking out the smoke. He would let the boy have a drag now and then, teasing him that he wasn't old enough to smoke, yet, at the same time, Clarence would slowly caress his latest conquest, rubbing him so softly and gently that the boy's erection would return and Clarence would hand his cigarette to Maurice to put out in the sink, and then he would sit up and give the boy a blow job, "for the road," before getting dressed. He would make the boy remain naked, in the second seat with the side curtain closed, so he could look over at him at stoplights and enjoy the look of the young, smooth body, the half-hard cock, the smile of pure, exhausted pleasure on the boy's face. One of the joys of these outings for Maurice was not just the sex or watching his father have sex with a young white boy (and sometimes he watched as his dad fucked the boy, unable to watch the glazed-eyes, moaning, slightly smiling, dazed look of the boy in the throes of receiving the big black cock up his ass without masturbating as fast and hard as he could), it was the knowledge that, no matter how passionately and loudly the boys would cry, "Daddy!" that Clarence was HIS daddy and he knew he would have him, day and night, for years and years.