Date: Thu, 1 Jul 2021 13:38:12 -0400 From: Rod Rey Subject: My Loving Amish Father With so much shame and reluctance, I knocked on the door to Father's new home while wearing a dark hoodie that made me sweatier. What a hot and muggy Sunday night in mid-July. But I didn't have any other clothes left, everything gone. I glanced around the cramped, humble homes that surrounded me in the large trailer park. Many of them were rusty; some were questionably livable. Or maybe I'd just gotten spoiled while living the big city life. But Father's was okay. It would do. At least, he washed the white siding unlike many of the other homes; I could tell. Father. I'd had no idea he'd been excommunicated from our Amish community. Mother and all my sisters had probably stayed behind since I hadn't heard anything about them. During every visit to the library, I'd searched for Father online for a while since no one I knew had any clue where he lived these days. How time had flown. From a party-hard life in bustling Chicago back to a quietly-dull life in rural Wisconsin. Never had I imagined four years of rumspringa would be so intense. There was nothing special up here, not for me. There was just Lake Superior to look at (but too cold to swim even in the summer), and the northern lights during the peak months. But where else could I go now that I was homeless? I still had the chance to return to my original home, but I didn't want to. Not after discovering something that'd been deeply troubling for me. Well, when it came to the community anyway. That I liked the male flesh in ways I shouldn't. The door opened, and Father stood tall with a stunned face. Of course, he was stunned. He probably hadn't expected to ever see me again. Four years, after all. At forty, he looked the same: short and light-brown curls, warm and hazel eyes, rough and pasty skin, and lean all the way. He wore a white tank top that revealed some brown hairs peeking out from under his arms. He had it tucked inside a pair of fitted, light-blue jeans. He was still handsome and virile as ever, even with his short beard and no moustache in contrast to my clean-shaven face that I'd recently considered growing. I suddenly couldn't look at him anymore, but I could hear him swallowing as if choking up. "Well, blessed be." That raspy voice in a breathy tone, cracking. Yet for the first time since before I'd left, it filled me with something I shouldn't have been feeling in my dick. "C-can I come in, Father?" The shame in my voice that I couldn't hide. "Oh, son, of course!" He stepped aside to allow me to enter, and he shut the door. As I was about to burst from my emotions, his strong arms held me close. I lost it and sobbed, quietly at first. "It's okay, Eli. Let it all out. There's nothing wrong with that." He pulled off my hood and kissed the top of my buzzed head, just prickles of brown hair barely there. His sweet affection only made me cry harder. "I never thought I'd see my boy again. I prayed every morning and night to see you again, and I prayed in between as well." Torn again, just like at fourteen when I'd started developing these feelings, shortly before rumspringa. His scent: masculine, dried sweat, light musk, and no cologne, comforting in both my heart and dick. I let go after some minutes and sniffled, wiping my eyes and cheeks with my sleeves. "Thank you for this visit. Will you live with me?" Oh, Father. His hopeful tone saying it all. I nodded, too emotional to speak. I sniffled again. That put a stronger, warm smile on his face. I looked around, a tiny place with just one bedroom. At least, I assumed there was only one. How could another one fit in this narrow "hallway" of a home? There was wood paneling everywhere, and a couple of small, curtained windows on the front wall. On the right side of the place was a worn, brown couch for two with random stains and a few tiny rips, and a tiny bookshelf across from it. No TV or stereo. Actually, that was it for the living room. On the left side was a wooden kitchenette that needed updating, a small card table and two foldup chairs against the front wall, a narrow shower stall right beside the left end of the kitchenette, and a toilet beside that. The sink in the kitchenette was the only one, cluttered with dish soap, hand soap, and toiletries, and a small mirror hanging from above. Finally, an archway that revealed the edge of a seemingly-big bed. Everything was dull in color and style, which proved Father hadn't changed a bit. Ugh, I needed a drink. "Do you have alcohol?" Father looked puzzled. "Goodness, son. Why would you need that?" I shook my head. "Nothing, forget it," I muttered. I should've known better than to ask that. Of course, he didn't drink. He probably hadn't left his old ways of living. He inhaled and exhaled, attempting a tiny smile that seemed pained. "Look at you. My boy is a man now." I managed a tight smile, wanting to chat but also tired and emotional and just...lost. "Do you have any other clothes? It's too hot to wear that, don't you think?" "I have nothing, Father. And I need a shower right now." "Go ahead. The shower stall is right over there." He pointed to his left, just before the archway to the bedroom. "I'll go in after you, so you may want to take a quick one because the water gets cold fast and it takes a moment for the hot water to come back." I decided to lower my voice to avoid being heard. The neighbors were too close, and some of their windows were open from what I remembered seeing. "Take one with me like you used to, I don't care." I got naked, feeling spaced out from the reality and confusion and whatever else I felt. "Nah," Father said in an equally-low voice. "I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable." "Saves on hot water." I shrugged. "Whatever you want to do, Father. You've seen me naked many times years ago. Or did you forget our showers together for the same reason?" Nothing sexual had ever come out of it, despite my secret desire for it back then, so it wasn't a big deal. "I didn't forget." I walked to the shower stall. "Eli, wait. What's that on your left buttock?" Oh. The little tattoo. I'd forgotten all about it. I didn't turn around, my back still facing him. He came closer and observed it. "Daddy's Property? With an arrow pointing toward your...crack?" "I-I can explain." But how? I'd gotten it done to ward off horny men chasing after me by making them believe I was a slave to a Master. However, I'd meant it for my own father too. Now, my dick hardened more, and I especially couldn't turn around. "Please do. Because I have no idea why you would do that to your skin." He touched the area and rubbed the tattoo with his thumb. His touch, making me more erect. I dripped too. How could I explain any of this? "Goodness, Eli, I'm worried about you. Look at me, please." But he turned me around anyway. As his gaze lowered to my erection, his eyes widened. "Oh." A deafening silence filled the home with awkwardness. I frowned. "It still happens, Father. I'm sorry." He sighed, shaking his head. "You were fourteen, Eli. You were growing up." How was it that Father was that naive? Back then, now, and he still didn't have a clue that he was the one responsible for my sexual awakening. So many men had tried to kiss and touch me, and I'd fought back. I'd be damned if anyone else would claim such private things. I knew I was strange, perhaps sick. But my heart and dick were reserved for the only man who mattered in my life. Remaining a complete virgin had been worth all that. Father sighed, shaking his head. He removed his clothes, revealing his toned and moderately-hairy body with just a hint of a potbelly. It was similar to mine except my belly was flatter. Youth, maybe. We were both like otters, or so a gay guy I'd met in Chicago had called it: hairy frontside and smooth backside. Though, otters were generally hairier, and we just had some on our chests, bellies, and limbs, as well as thick bushes that probably needed to be trimmed. But what captured my attention the most was his big, pink dick pointing straightly at me like a gun. "You see, son? It happens to me too. It's a natural response that we can't control because we're men." I swallowed, my gaze fixated on it. We had the same size, both length and girth, and the same low-hanging balls with longish, scraggly hairs. Because I'd learned how much it mattered, I'd measured mine on occasion: 7.7 inches. His was also glistening with precum. Was it a natural response too? Because for me, it happened only when I was aroused. Was he aroused too? No, he'd never, much to my sadness. After all, our last shower together had been the first time he'd seen me get an erection. Perhaps that had scared him. But I was a man now; it was different. Willing to quell the sexually-agonizing distraction, I shifted my gaze back to his hazel eyes that continually softened with emotions. "Why were you excommunicated, Father?" He lowered his head as if ashamed. He shook his head. "It doesn't matter, Eli. What's done is done. Do you still want me to join you in the shower like old times?" I shrugged. "Only if you want to." Deep down, I did, but I had to control myself. The urge to taste him in ways a son wasn't supposed to do to his own father struck me. Similar faces, similar bodies, same dicks, and same names. Being Eli Lapp, Jr. felt special because I'd been legally stamped as his upon my birth. In my mind anyway. He'd created me with his beautiful organ, so why not give his creation his own name too? Father led the way, and his small, round butt tempted me for a taste. What was it like to rim, as it was called? What was it like to be inside him and release? I'd let him do the same to me. This whole top and bottom thing didn't apply to me. As long as I was horny, I was willing to try anything he wanted to do. He opened the plexiglass shower door and turned on the faucet. It was a good thing we were lean, given the space inside the stall. He stepped inside and smiled. "We'll fit, son." I followed inside and closed the door, and our bodies were lightly pressed against each other while the warm water rained over us. We barely fit, and I realized now that our hard dicks touched each other's skin. We stared at each other, our dicks twitching every so often. After a pause, Father chuckled. "I don't know how we'll shower like this, but we can try, right?" But I couldn't take it anymore. I'd waited too long now. I'd saved myself for him, a pure virgin in every sexual and romantic way. I had absolutely no experience. I needed him; I needed my father. "Let me wash you, Father." Oh. That had slipped. My horny mood was taking over. After a pause, he sighed. "I suppose it's easier that way." "It is." Was it? I didn't care. He grabbed the bar of soap, wet it, and ran it over my skin. When he reached my dick, he barely washed it, his gaze struggling to lock with mine. But I grabbed his wrist and put it back on my dick, the soap soft against my skin. "Wash it, Father," I whispered. "Eli...that's wrong." I shook my head. "No. It's not. Wash it." It took him a moment, but he finally did. He struggled to look at me even more so now. If only the soap weren't in the way so that his full hand could touch me. "Look at me, Father. Please?" When he did, it was brief. "Don't look away." "I think it's washed now." He sounded nervous. "No." I put his hand back on my dick. "Don't think about it and just do it." His eyes softened the more they bored into mine. "Son..." "Father..." And our lips met for the first time, my first kiss. I didn't care that I was eighteen. It'd been worth the wait. This was finally happening, and it was unbelievable. He slipped his tongue inside my mouth and found my tongue. We kissed this way for a moment longer while he masturbated me, the water running over our heads and in between our faces. I was close. Father broke the kiss and rested his forehead against mine. Our eyes still met, but we were silent. He let my dick go and straightened his posture. He reached behind me, starting with my butt cheeks and then my hole. His finger moved with reluctance. "Touch me, Father. It's okay." "Eli, this so wrong, isn't it?" But his face said otherwise. Deep down, I knew he wanted this. I shook my head. "I waited years for this. You saw that I was hard the last time we showered together." "You were only fourteen! You were a child!" "Except I wasn't. I knew what I wanted. It's why I'm a virgin. I saved myself for you. Now, touch me, Father. I promise it's more than okay." He swallowed, his hand frozen for a moment. Then, he continued inside and began rubbing my anus. I was probably technically clean since I hadn't used the bathroom after my last shower. I'd just been sweaty, that was all. I stroked my dick while stroking Father's with my other hand. I had to be careful because I could easily release after a few days of no ejaculation. His breaths grew harder, and his eyes heavier as if drowsy. He kissed me while doing this. I loved the taste of his mouth, which didn't really taste like anything in particular, if that made sense. I also didn't have any other to compare it too, but it didn't matter. This was Father, the man I'd give my all to. He kept rubbing my hole while I stroked our dicks, and I was getting much closer. Maybe he was too, given his tiny moans through my mouth and his harder breathing. We kissed with hunger, our true feelings unchained and feral. What I'd give to lower myself and take my creator inside my mouth. I wanted to taste Father, not just the skin of his dick but his milk. But there was no space. When he stopped kissing me, he whispered, "Son?" "Yes, Father?" "I created you, gave you life." I nodded, stroking him faster. "My existence is yours. I won't accept otherwise. You own me, Father. For life." He gasped and let out clipped puffs of breath, his eyes still burning into mine. His thick, warm milk shot all over my hand, belly, and bush in a copious amount. He let out restrained grunts, still shooting more. I scooped much of it off my belly and licked my fingers. I ignored the strong and rich taste because of the meaning behind this. I licked my sticky lips and gave him a little smile. "It's official, Father. I tasted you. I have a part of you in me now. That means I'm more yours than ever." His face softened as he caught his breath, and he caressed my cheek. "Eli...I love you more than my own life. But how would this work? This...whatever it is between us?" "We just love each other. We make each other happy." "Eli..." Father sighed. "I can be a little possessive just like I was with your mother." I kissed him. "Good. Because you own me. You're supposed to be possessive." I stroked myself quickly until I shot all over his belly, the euphoria like a different kind of heaven. Not looking at my mess, I could tell I'd come harder than I'd ever had in my life. The feeling had also been the most intense I'd ever experienced, almost knocking me out from its relaxing inducement. "If you truly want this with me, you do realize there cannot be any other involved, right?" I nodded. "I don't want anyone else. And I don't want you to be with anyone else either." "I won't be. You know that. I'm fiercely loyal and faithful to whomever I'm intimately involved with." Of course, I'd always known that. It was just how Father was. He'd never cheat in his life even if his partner had refused sex, even if he'd had the chance to be intimate with the hottest person in the world. It was an endearing quality that made me trust him even more, and I'd never want that part of him to ever change. The water started getting cold. "It's not warm anymore, and I forgot to soap your body." Father grinned. "I'd already showered earlier today. I just wanted an excuse to be in here with you." I chuckled and wrapped my arms around him. "I love you, Father. Always." "And I'll always love you, Eli. My beautiful son." Never had I imagined this would actually happen, but I'd wanted it to, and it was happening now. I'd always wanted to bond with Father, but a familial relationship wasn't enough. I needed intimacy with him, and I'd just gotten it whenever I wanted it. I looked forward to the next chapter in my life. In our lives. ---------- https://rodreywriter.wordpress.com (c)2021, Rod Rey. A.R.R. Please donate to Nifty!