Date: Mon, 24 Sep 2012 13:00:38 -0400 From: Ned Arm Subject: Gay/Incest/Oysters from Dad/Chapter 2 To respond to those who have asked...Yes, the story is true. A bit of literary license has been taken to make it more readable story, but YES, the story is true. Ned Chapter 2 A couple of weeks went by, with no invite from Dad to come to the club. When my wife got curious with that, I mumbled out irritably "One cannot have oysters every day" and she looked at me strangely and said "What did you just say?" I caught myself, and told her it was just the lyrics of a song that had been rattling around in my head, and she continued her strange look at me, but let it drop. At work, I told myself that it was time to call Dad at his work, but before I made it happen, I received a call from Loretta, his secretary. She was calling for Dad, who wanted to know if I could have dinner with him on Wednesday night, and I jumped at the opportunity. I think I squirted a bit of precum when she told me that I was to meet him at his office at 5:30 at the end of the work day. Damn! It was two days away and I was already awaiting the event like a schoolboy with an important date. * * * * * Loretta was still there when I arrived and she led me into Dad's office, all very formal and efficient. She called me Don, and then immediately corrected herself, but I rarely paid attention to those minor gaffes, anymore. Dad made a big show of my being there, which was indeed a very infrequent event so he made a big fuss in front of Loretta. And then Loretta left. Dad followed her out, and he locked the door when she was gone. Without any foreplay, he immediately began to take off his clothes. I made a comment about how anxious he must be (I was more anxious than he possibly could have been!), and with his easy laugh, he said "I think you were just about to do something when we were so rudely interrupted at the club last time. I thought I should give you the opportunity to complete whatever it was you started but did not finish." Oh yes, I knew what he meant. I knew full well he had been anticipating a blow job from me, since it did not happen because the club trainer interrupted our "workout". Teasing, I told him that I was doing nothing until I got another dance and show like he had given me when he had danced around in the nude. Smiling, he resumed stripping and said, "That is easily done." When he got to his white jockeys, he stopped. I did the same. Both of us were tenting, and there were little wet spots of precum on both sets of u nderwear. He began his routine, just as before, like a stripper in a gay club, bumping and grinding, teasing with the viewing of his pubic hair, then on down to barely hide his ever hardening cock. The difference this time was that I was trying to match him, move for move. I do not know which one was turning on the other one more, but it was hot! We both pulled the briefs off at the same time. I twirled mine above my head, and tossed them to Dad. He caught them and immediately put them to his nose which turned me on tremendously. "You know all about these little male tricks, don't you?" I asked as he deeply sniffed my underwear. He simply smiled, and hung them over his hard prick which was bouncing with anticipation. "Nope, I don't know all the tricks. There were some that I did not even know their name." He stroked his cock a few times "Do you want me to stand or to sit?" he asked sincerely. "Both", I teased, "but we can start with standing." I moved close to him craving to experience another of the hot tongue kisses that only he could deliver. He did not disappoint, once again, taking my breath away. When we were both coming up for air, I slid down to my knees. I took his cock in my hand and looked at it for what I thought was a long time, since indeed, it was so magical looking just like my own. My brain was imprinting the image of his cock, and comparing it to my own and like the fingerprint matching you see on TV, my brain was shrieking "Match. Match. Match." I slipped my lips over his dick, and slowly did a long deep throat massaging of his cock. He was loving it. He grabbed the back of my neck and guided my head directly to his hard cock, as though I did not know where it was. He fucked my face as a hot hunky stud would do, gently, then firmly, deeply, lovingly, sometimes demanding, with purpose and pleasure in every thrust of his butt which pushed his prick, with every movement of my mouth. I knew he was cumming and so did he, as his dick grew harder and thicker and his hold on me tightening. He threw back his head and started spurting, and I was not sure if he was ever going to stop. I knew that I usually delivered up six or seven spurts and it seemed most guys that I had sucked did the similar six to seven volleys of cum explosion, but his seemed to go on and on and on. I lost count. I held him in my mouth until he was almost totally flaccid before coming up for air. Dad put his hands on both sides of my head as he kissed me deeply, receiving back some of his own cum. He moved his hand down to my cock, which was slick with cum, though I had not realized that I had had an orgasm. I had simply leaked my load of cum and precum in a great volume without any friction on my dick. There was a puddle of my cum on the carpet. "Damn, you are one sensual sexy stud" he said to me as he pulled away from me and cleaned up my mess. "Let's have a drink." Dad retrieved his briefs and threw them to me. He picked up mine and put them on, and I did the same, wearing his. "We need a semblance of being civilized", he said, "we cannot sit on the furniture without underwear. Doesn't have to be your own, just has to covering your ass." He opened a cabinet to reveal a fully stocked bar, and not surprisingly, we both had scotch. We sat down, like old friends, and the conversation flowed easily as we chatted about everything it seemed, with the emphasis on sex. When pressed, I admitted that I was probably as close to bisexual as you could get, being happily married. I did not chase women, nor did I chase men. On occasion, men found me, or a situation presented itself where male sex was an option. I had seldom turned down the testosterone opportunity. I told Dad about virtually every encounter I had ever had, which were not that many when I got right down to actually trying to recounting all that I could recall. Most all of them were in the business world in which I operated but I had been known to hit a gay bar or two when I was especially in need of a man for male sex . I decided to answer every question he asked, as honestly as I could do, and he promised to do the same when it was my turn to quiz him. No, I had never had any STD, not even crabs. No, I did not do drugs, but I had a great affinity for poppers. No, I did not get fucked, though I had ridden more than a few asses and, yes, I practiced safe sex. There were seemingly an endless number of such questions, and the scotch flowed freely as we sat there in our jockey shorts and talked. And drank. At age 26, I could only go back about ten years, and it seemed as though I remembered every encounter. I certainly tried. He was especially interested in my first adult encounter, which was with the brother of one of neighbor friends. He was highly curious of brother Don, and I freely admitted that we had jacked off together for years, until he got married, and had learned oral sex by practicing on each other. He was highly intrigued. Eventually, he seemed satisfied, and he poured another healthy scotch, as he said, "OK, your turn. Fire away." At age 52, it was obvious to both of us that he had certainly been around more blocks than I had. When I asked how he got started, he said it was very similar to my early years, young guys at work. He said he had also tried most every gay bar in town, and had seen many of them come and go over thirty years. But he also had limitations which started to set in as his career was progressing rapidly and he could not allow his business reputation to become besmirched by any gay night life. He valued his career and his personal life of marriage and family too highly to be destroyed by an inadvertent encounter, a slip-up, a mistake in judgment. So, by the time he was thirty, he ceased the public pursuit of cock. "Did you quit, cold turkey?" I asked. He smiled his big white teeth smile and said, "Nope, how can anyone stop something that is such a vital part of life? Could you?" I was intrigued and begged him to go on. "Well, I thought I might be satisfied with a lover, and there was a guy here at work that I thought would keep my horns trimmed and my dick satisfied. We developed a kind of lover relationship, supposedly pretty much geared to just each other. So I thought. When he was arrested for some rather salacious activities in a public park, the newspapers grabbed the story, the company fired him, and he disappeared. I never knew where he went." "However, I found an alternative at just about the same time as that sordid affair was ending." He settled on something that I had never thought of. He became very familiar with the gay escort scene. He traveled extensively and he found it very convenient to hire an escort to come to his hotel room, and have sex of any variety that might interest him, give him some money and send him on the way. They never knew who he was, he was just "trade". He knew, however, the popular names in the flesh industry, who was the most in demand, the most muscular, the hunkiest and the incredibly hung, and the most satisfying escorts anywhere in the country. He was wired into the gay escort agencies of most major cities. Then with the advent of the Internet, he no longer needed the agencies and contacted the escorts directly. I was fascinated! He mentioned several names, guys that I had lusted over either in magazines or on the Internet, and he smilingly admitted that he had had satisfying sex with most of them. It struck a note of momentary jealousy: "Damn, you mean you have sucked off Zeb? And Ted Colunga?" And he would smile and describe the encounter in detail. I had nearly run out of questions when I peppered him with some that he had grilled me: Drugs? No. STD? Never. Poppers? Hell yes. Top or Bottom. 90% top, 10% bottom. And I finished up with the one he had asked me: "OK. Have you had sex with my brother? He laughed as he said "No, and I would never have had sex with you either if you had not stuck your dick in my face at the club. My hormones could not handle it, and especially not when I first realized that our dicks were genetically identical, looking the same." He grinned a wicked grin, and said "Nope, never had your brother but I sure would like to." Softly he said, "How big is his cock?" He paused before I answered. "Actually, how big is yours and mine?" He went to his desk and brought out a tape meaasure, "OK, we need to both measure up. I know I am seven but not quite sure how much over seven." We played with each other to rock hardness before measuring until we were still both blue steel rock hard. And throbbing. "Seven and three eighths", I announced. He then laid the measure on his cock. We both nearly doubled over with laughing when he announced his results: Seven and three eighths, both of us. Then he said, "OK, how big is your brother?" And I told him that he was probably exactly the same, and he swore, "Damn, it would be so fucking hot for the three of us to get naked together!" I agreed. "I can make that happen", I responded confidently. He grinned a wicked grin and said "Then make it happen Stud." By this point in time, we had established a bond so strong that I did not know such a relationship could exist. It was pretty evident that I was definitely his son, in all ways. Not only did we look alike, since our physical attributes were nearly identical, even our cocks, our sex life was similar and the sex we had together was enormously pleasing to both of us. Our adult actions were strikingly similar. "The apple does not fall far from the tree" he said, as we both got dressed. Dad called the car pool, and a limo was waiting when we go to the street. We carried on a lively conversation, in hushed tones since we assumed the driver was all ears, again focusing upon our activities with disguised commentary, and came to the reasonable conclusion that we could meet at least once a month at his office, (after Loretta leaves next time I begged), and at least once a month at his club in the fitness room. I was elated with the schedule and we decided to leave all of the logistics up to him. He would call and confirm or call and cancel. "OK, so the ball is in your court" I said, as I reached over and rubbed his crotch. He gently removed my hand and said "Yes, that is how we got started wasn't it? A ball game." Then he rubbed my crotch but I did not remove his hand. I got very hard as he stroked me though my trousers the rest of the way home. I shot off in my underwear, dammit! We were home before I wanted to give the evening up, but I had to admit, today's helping of oysters had been very filling and fulfilling! End of Chapter 2 If the story is of interest to you, let me know. I will publish more of the story only if there are readers. Ned