Date: Sat, 29 Sep 2012 19:49:30 +0000 From: calamity123@fido.blackberry.com Subject: My Curious Sam 1 The following story deals with father/son incest. If this is not a part of your fantasy life please seek other stories in the nifty archives. Donations are always needed for this site: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html My name is Rob, Canadian, 46, and I can be reached at: Calamity123@fido.blackberry.com Pics are always appreciated. This is my 25th tale. Please email me for a complete list on nifty. My Curious Sam Part 1 He was at that perfect age for boys - a few years into schooling, still full of piss and vinegar but old enough to understand consequences. His mind was active, always asking, "why this, daddy", "why that". The love of nature and all things crawly and slimey was evidenced by the mud and grass caked to his skin. Even under his shirt or up his pant legs. It was a wonder to me. Blonde haired, blue-eyed, lithe, with an angelic face that belied the devil he could stir up. He's all grown-up now. A strapping near-6 foot man. He's just finishing his shower before he jots some notes down and joins me in bed. My sweet son. But this is his story. My name is Sam. For as long as I can remember I've idolized my dad. So would any of you. He's a beefy hairy mountain of a man. Tall. Strong. And with piercingly hypnotic brown eyes. A hero to any boy. Just to watch him play sports was a joy to behold. Graceful and strong with muscles that rippled with every twist of his magnificent form. Dad and I often bathed together when I was barely able to walk. It stopped at some point - probably a complaint from 'head office'. But I never forgot it and vowed that it would happen again. Then the fates conspired in my favour. Mom was off looking after my aunts kids while she had another kid. The seventh! I mean, really, there ought to be a limit. Baptists - go figure! Dad hated when I came home caked in guck so I kinda kept it to a minimum - at least for me. He was usually sitting on the couch in jockeys and a t-shirt reffing the game very loudly. Dad didn't drink much and could nurse a beer to flatness but I secretly loved that he considered underwear the appropriate attire for his team. I always wondered what lay hidden in the promise of that pouch. I know we had bathed when I was a kid but, frankly, the tugboat in front of me was more interesting than what sat behind. By now I'd changed. The game was down to the final seconds but you know how football goes. Those last seconds could take forever in the hell of set-up and instant replay. Dad never averted his eyes from the screen. "Bath", he instructed. I bowed in mockery. "To hear is to obey". He looked over grimacing his face into a ferocious glare as he shook a fist in my direction. "Yeah, pops, I'm trembling". My feet hit the stairs running. Dad looked back at the screen as he sipped the beer through his bemused smirk. "Why does warm beer always taste like a laxative?" he mused. The seconds played out. Glancing at the cat he offered, "If they'd listened to me they would've won". He stood, stretched, then made his way upstairs. Passing the open bathroom door he caught sight of his son just lowering into the bath. "Since when don't you close the door?" I looked over my shoulder. "Aw, pops, it's just us. Who cares?" Dad sort of laughed at this. "And cut out the 'pops' stuff. I just got used to 'dad'." Stepping in he continued, "It wasn't so long ago you used to call me 'daddy'. 'Dad' I agree to. 'Pops' is out!" I giggled. He looked at the pile of muddy clothes on the tiles. "You know what your mother would say if she saw that". So I gave the pile a shrug. "Good thing she's not here then". Suddenly I found my head in a half-nelson which elicited a squeal of surprise and delight. "Ya think you're a comic, hunh?" his dad said while adding a ferocious 'Grrr" to the headlock. Releasing his son and lowering to his knees he began to gather the discarded clothing. "How you can get so dirty is beyond me", he muttered. I looked over eye level with my hero. "Dad?" "Hmm?" "Why don't we have baths anymore?" Dad turned out the pockets of the jeans. "What are you talking about, Sam? You're having a bath now". "No. I mean us. You and me". I watched dad furrow his brow as he stared at me. "Why don't we have baths together?" Dad gave a smirk. "Don't ya think you're getting a little old to want a bath with me?" I looked back at the water as my knees were brought up wrapping my arms about them. "I suppose". Dad took his fingers and thumb squeezing the nape of his sons neck. "Well, don't ya think so?" Another sigh from me. The shoulders shrugged. "We never get to do anything fun anymore". Dad chuckled. "You think having a bath with me as fun?" "Well, yeah, kinda". Dads other hand touched Sams arm as he cocked his head to one side trying to catch the boys eye. "You and me in the tub at the same time?" Another sigh from the lad. The bear stood up. "Scoot forward", he said pulling off the t-shirt, "I'm coming in!" Water sloshed as I moved up towards the faucet. Delighted but awfully curious I steeled myself from looking back. In seconds his knees rested on either wall of the tub. Paws grabbed my shoulders swimming my back to his torso as he wrapped me in a bear hug. "Better?" As my hands gripped his forearms he nuzzled my neck. "We just won't tell mom, okay?" "Okay". My head tilted as he gave my neck a kiss or two. I suddenly felt everything was in its proper place. An emptiness I didn't fully comprehend was gone. Vanished. I never knew there was emptiness until I felt full. Complete. Safe in daddys arms. My body wriggled as if I could get closer still. Dad heaved a heavy sigh. "You're right. This is fun". For moments (minutes?) we were wrapped in a coccoon of just being together. His arms secured me to him. Then he pulled the face cloth out of the water. The coarse material began to slide back and forth over my chest as his other arm reached up, the hand gripping my far shoulder. I remained in a bear hug. "Feel better now?". His low voice was like waves on my neck. My sigh was now one of contentment. The base of my skull pressed into his upper left pec. The cloth took a broader route as it not only took in my chest but my tummy. Occasionally the material was resoaked. It felt luxurious. "I love you, Sam", he whispered. "I'm so proud of you. I just feel so lucky to have you in my life". The wet cloth continued to soothe. His breath on my neck delighted. My mind drifted into a blissful state of nothingness. As he leaned me forward he gave me gentle kisses all across my shoulders - from one end to the other then back again. Lips pursed, applying soft pressure then showing up in another spot. "Oh, wow!" I suddenly exclaimed. Dad stopped. "What?" he asked full of concern. Using his knees as leverage I stood up somewhat shakey. His hands immediately steadied me by holding my upper thighs. "What are ya doing, Sam?" I turned around facing him. Looking down at my mid-section I stared. "It's happened again!" "What?" But then dad followed my gaze. My thin pale hard-on bobbed in front of his face. My balls matched my knob - both a warm pinkish colour. The bag was loose from the warm bath; my tiny balls away from my dick as far as they could go. "You have a hard-on". It was an observation. "Hunh? This has happened before!" "Well, don't get nervous. All guys get them. When your penis fills with blood it gets erect. Hard. Just like now". He rubbed the back of two fingers along the underside. "It's perfectly normal". "Honest?" Dad looked up offering a smile. "Cross my heart". Crouching down my knees rested on his upper thighs as my hands steadied myself on his shoulders. "Does yours?" "It happens to every guy. It's a male thing". Brazenly I looked down between us; between his legs. At last I had the answer to what was hidden before. His cock was fat, purplish, wrinkled. It looked heavy. The knob was slick and darker than the rest. The balls were obscured but the hair was evident. It complimented the rest of his hairy front. "But yours isn't hard now". "Well, I don't walk around with a hard-on, you know". "Then why is mine hard?" He ran his hands up my back to my shoulders. "Youth". He chuckled at my confusion. "You can get a hard-on for all kinds of reasons: from waking up to being excited to wearing tight shorts. For now it's just gonna show up when it wants to". He kissed my nose. "So don't worry about. Okay?" My smile assured him I wouldn't. Then I looked at him seriously. "I'm glad you're my dad". "Mmm. So'm I". I looked back down between us. "Can you show me your hard-on?" "No". "How come?" He offered by way of explanation, "Because I'm not hard". I grinned then waved a fist in his face. "One of these days . . . " Dad leaned back and laughed loudly at my mockery. After drying I grabbed dads t-shirt putting it on. The towel began a rough tumble through my hair. Dad dried slowly staring at me. "That's what you're gonna wear?" Nodding my head I uttered, "And nothing else". He mumbled to himself, "You get more like your mother everyday". So I offered up an imitation. The towel was turbanned around my head as my wrists flopped about. "Take out the trash", I squeaked. "Feet off the coffee table. Put away your tools. Don't even think about putting that in my mouth". "What?" Dad stared at me dumbfounded. "Where did you hear that last one?" "Going to the bathroom in the middle of the night". Dad was awed. "What else did you hear?" "Nothing. I had to go to the bathroom", I shrugged unwrapping the towel. "You do beat all". "What're we having for dinner?" After supper we curled up on the sofa and watched tv. It was wonderful being enfolded in those great tree-trunk arms. His breathing was steady, even, calming. With my head against the soft down of his chest I fell asleep.