Date: Tue, 15 Apr 2008 15:53:22 -0700 (PDT)
From: Master Terra D <masterterradil@yahoo.com>
Subject: My Hung Son: Dad's Stash

	Ivan had waited 15 minutes, just to make sure his dad wasn't headed
home. Jim was an archeologist, and had just left for a one-week dig,
leaving Ivan alone for the first time.
	Ivan was 17, and Jim hadn't left Ivan on his own until now. The
Illinois father and son pair had said goodbye to Elaine 10 years before
when she died of a terminal illness. Jim had opted to be a single father,
leaving Ivan with either set of grandparents when he had extended times
away from home.
	Ivan loved his father's digs. He had gone along a few times, and
his dad always brought him something interesting home from the countries
Jim visited.
	As Ivan grew older, he'd noticed his dad wasn't dating, and rarely
went out. He hosted the weekly Thursday night poker night and belonged to a
few organizations.
	Jim also was rather conservative. But tonight, Ivan had decided to
see what his father was hiding in his bedroom.
	Ivan tried his father's bedroom door, and it opened. He clicked on
the light, and surveyed the surroundings. Jim had kept his room a
sanctuary, a place Ivan had seldom seen, and never for long.
	The walls looked like brown suede. The bed sat center, the
headboard a towering, leather paneled dark-wood, supported by solid, 6-inch
square posts with a hole through in each direction. The footboard was a
smaller version of the headboard. A bench-chest was at the bed's foot. A
tall chest of drawers was to the left of the bed. Chocolate curtains framed
the windows opposite the bed, able to black out the room for the plasma
television that rose from the chest under the window sill.
	Thirty minutes later, Ivan was frustrated. Nothing in the chest,
the chest of drawers, the closet, inside anything. Ivan sat on the bed,
taking a closer look at it while he wondered where else he could look. He
wasn't sure what he was looking for, or what he'd do once he found it. He
hoped it wasn't drugs; he wasn't into that. But he knew his dad had to have
some sort of secret. All parents did; every teenager knew that.
	Ivan sat up. He had looked everywhere but under the bed!
	Laying on the bed, stomach down, Ivan hung his head and chest over
the edge, peering underneath.
	"That my dad is a neat-freak can NOT be his secret," Ivan thought,
observing the dust-free surface of the hard-wood floor beneath the bed
frame, joined only by a wooden chest, shaped like a suitcase.
	Ivan reached under. He pulled the chest from underneath, and looked
at it. His dad's name was intricately carved on top of the teak chest,
brown leather straps circling the chest and held shut with a buckle. It
could be locked, but was not.
	Ivan carefully lifted the chest to the top of the bed, switching
places with it, kneeling on the floor, his face level with the closed
chest. He lifted his arm to open the chest when he heard the garage door
open.
	"Crap!"
	Back under the bed the chest went, and Ivan made it back to the
living room just as Jim entered.
	"Hey chum! I forgot some paperwork, and as I was heading back, I
got a call. The dig's been canceled," Jim announced, loosening his tie.
	Jim stood 5'll" tall, a 34-inch waist tapering up to a developed
chest, a cross of work and gym, the rest of his framed formed by morning
runs, and evening swims. His chestnut hair caught the light, giving his
eternal grin and handsome face a movie-star quality. Or so Ivan's single
female teachers would say, hinting rather unsubtlely they'd like to be
introduced.
	Ivan was his father's height, but with a bulkier build, a result of
his love of football and wrestling.
	"Aw, that's a shame, dad. I know you were looking forward to that
trip," Ivan sighed.
	"Revolution." Jim rolled his eyes. The was the bane of every
archeologist's existence. Revolutions, coupes, assassinations, governments
in turmoil. Borders close, and plans go out the window.
	"I'm going to shower. I had a flat tire, or I would have been back
sooner. When I'm done, I'll cook supper."
	Jim's tie landed on the barstool to the kitchen bar, his coat on
the next one. Ivan saw the tie was smeared with grease.
	The son turned the mute button off the television and resumed
watching the show he'd pretended to be watching when his dad came home.
	A few seconds later, "Ivan, come here please," Jim beckoned from
the bedroom.
	Ivan walked through the door. His dad stood naked, except for a
towel around his waist. Ivan noticed the hairy chest and the barely visible
trail from navel to under the towel; smooth between.
	"Ivan, what were you doing in my room?" Jim's voice wasn't
guessing. He knew.
	Ivan knew he knew.
	"Dad, I wasn't in here."
	"Try it again, Ivan. I know you were in here. What were you doing?"
	Ivan thought for a second, then "Dad, I didn't do anything..."
	"You were in here, Ivan. I know it. I've raised you to be
honest. We don't keep secrets in this house, young man," Jim said sternly.
	"You do. I know you're keeping some sort of secret. And if I know
you were in here, then you must have known what I was doing," Ivan
challenged.
	"I wanted to give you the chance to admit it, son." Jim locked eyes
with Ivan. "I guess that you're still here is a good sign."
	Jim dropped the towel, revealing a semi-stiff cock, 7 inches of
cut, plump wonder.
	"What?" Ivan was surprised. "Dad? What?"
	Jim turned around and bent over, reaching under the bed and pulling
out the carved chest underneath.
	Ivan's eyes fixed on his dad's ass, a light dusting of hairs on the
cheeks, turning into a forest as it neared his father's pucker.
	"Like what you see, son?"
	Ivan shook his head, realizing he was staring.
	"Yes. No! Crap! Dad, what the hell is going on?" Ivan scrambled to
think.
	"I know you had the chest, and it's okay, Ivan."
	"Dad, I don't know how you know I was in the room, but I didn't
actually see what was in the chest. You got home right before I could open
it."
	Jim stopped. He'd revealed himself to his son, and he'd assumed his
son had opened the chest. His son was staring at his ass. He'd put the
chest on the bed, and opened it, but Ivan couldn't see its contents because
Jim's naked body blocked Ivan's view.
	Jim stood up and turned, grabbing the sheet and covering himself as
he turned.
	"Dad, what is going on?"
	"I'm gay, Ivan," Jim confessed. "The chest contains my toys, and I
thought you'd seen them, and liked them. You are tenting, son."
	Ivan looked down. His dad's hairy ass had had an effect. Not only
were his pants tented out, but there was a tiny wet spot.
	Jim stepped toward Ivan, dropping the towel, exposing his semi-hard
dick again. Jim reached out and pulled down Ivan's zipper, gentling pushing
his son's boxer-briefs down inside the pants, and directing his son's ample
cock out.
	Jim kneeled and licked around the base of the shaft, salivating on
the nuts, smooth as silk. His finger manipulated the pants button until
they were around his son's ankles, followed by the underwear. Ivan's hips
lightly thrusted to his father's ministrations.
	Jim enjoyed his son's cock. The velvet veined staff slid down his
throat, rippling flavors of desire and pleasure through his mind. While Jim
did enjoy men, he hadn't paid particular attention to his son's
attributes. He was more than his father's son. Jim deep throated what had
to be at least 9 inches, fatter than his own, and beautifully textured.
	Ivan leaned against the door frame, unable to resist his father,
unable to process more than the pleasure being laved on him, unable to do
much more than gently dance his hips, pulsing his dick further down his
dad's throat.
	Jim massaged the silky globes as he swallowed Ivan's cum-shooter,
kneeding the muscled buns, and lightly grazing the ass crack. Ivan slightly
shuddered as Jim popped his mouth off his son, then dived on to his balls.
	"Oh, dad!"
	Jim sucked in one smooth nut and rolled it around his oral cavity
as his hands continued massaging his son's butt. Jim felt his own saliva
drooling on his face as he switched balls, his tongue doing a quick dart
right below the sack, then swallowing the ball back.
	Ivan pushed on his father's forehead, but not enough to signal a
stop. He pushed back against the door jam, wondering why his girlfriend
never did this.
	Ivan's hands went above his head, pushing down as his father's
tongue instinctively made Ivan's body jump up.
	Jim spread his son's muscle-trunk legs and started chewing the
perineum. Ivan gasped. Loudly. He started to cry, the pleasure so new, so
unexpected, he teared up in ecstasy.
	Jim lapped at his son's manly spot, feeling him gyrate, wriggle,
hump.
	Jim's hands left the ass and flashed up, assaulting the nipples on
a honed chest, pumped by football fields and fitness routines of weight.
	After a few minutes, Jim stood, giving Ivan a rest.
	"Come over here, son," Jim sighed, leading his son to the bed. They
locked eyes. "You like to eat pussy, son?"
	Ivan blushed. He had a girlfriend, but they hadn't done much beyond
groping each other. She had let him finger her a bit, and had let him eat
her, but only briefly. He'd wanted more.
	"Yeah, dad."
	"I have something better for you to try," Jim said, laying on his
back, and tucking his elbows under his knees.
	Ivan targeted his dad's pink pucker instantly, staring at the moist
maw surrounded by its hirsuteness.
	As if under its own control, his right arm straightened, his right
hand becoming a fist, his middle finger striking out and caressing the rim
of Jim's anus.
	"That's it. Be gentle. Don't rush. I'm not going anywhere, son,"
Jim cooed.
	Ivan slowly pushed against Jim's tight hole, massaging, not
penetrating, watching the opening flicker with want, daring the finger to
enter, heating the digit's tip. Ivan wanted more.
	Ivan kneeled, bringing his face to his father's furry furnace. His
mouth muscle licked Jim's rim. The saliva sizzled from Jim's lust. Ivan
gave into his desire, and shoved his face into his dad's ass, feeling the
mature hairs brush against his young face. Ivan lapped and licked, drooled
and dove, chewed and chomped at his dad's shit hole, lost in the lust,
eating deep, drilling his tongue in the divine divide.
	Jim groaned in ecstasy, his own cock straining not to explode,
precum running for the slit of pulsating flesh as his son ate at his
shitter.
	Neither Jim nor Ivan tracked the time as the football offspring ate
at the ass buffet. Time froze and ran, stopped and flew.
	Suddenly, Ivan reared up like a stallion, plunging his staff deep
in his father's butt, then diving down for Jim's face. Father and son
locked lips as Ivan began pummeling his dad's ass.
	Jim cried out, loudly, a howl that would have alerted anyone in the
house that carnal sex was taking place, and being enjoyed.
	Ivan was lost. His hips moved of their own accord, his hands
holding his father's wrist tight, pressed against the sheets, his teeth
nipping his dad's left nipple. He pushed harder, deeper, farther, fucking
furiously, sweat dripping from his brow, down his back, becoming a rivulet
down his ass crack and turning into another source of discovered pleasure.
	Jim was lost. His hips thrust up of their own accord, his legs
wrapping around his son's body, pulling it against his own, his teeth not
barring a torrent of foul, nasty words, prodding his son to go harder,
deeper, farther, sweat running from his body, becoming a rivulet to his
center, his ass, additional lube for the pounding pecker in his cavernous
core.
	A hand went free, and Jim pulled his son to his lips again, his
tongue prying Ivan's lips apart, and exploring his offspring's orifice.
	Ivan sucked the air from his father's lungs as his juice creamed
his dad's ass, warming Jim's guts, breeding his dad as his dad had once
done to his mom.
	Ivan thrust and pounded through the orgasm, continuing to prod
father's fuck hole.
	Ivan felt warmth on his chin, then his chest, his father's batter
bathing his bulk.
	Jim kiss Ivan again. Ivan tasted cum for the first time, his
father's off Jim's lips. He sucked more. He followed down into the hair of
his dad's chest, where it had dripped off Ivan's smooth chest.
	Jim grabbed Ivan by the back of the head. "Like that, son?"
	"Yes."
	Jim guided his son to Jim's shitter, shoving Ivan's face into the
sweaty, hairy, fucked hole.
	Jim writhed as Ivan started eating and sucking his own cum from his
father's ass.

	An hour later, the father and son lay spooned on Jim's bed, Ivan
playing with his dad's nipple, his jock cock nestled in the hairy comfort
of his dad's ass crack.
	"So, dad, what was in the chest?" Ivan asked, finally sated from
his first man fuck.
	"I'll have to show you tomorrow, son. Let's get some rest and see
what else you can discover later."

The end

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Master Terra D
masterterradil@yahoo.com