Date: Wed, 13 Apr 2011 11:16:41 -0700 (PDT) From: Paul Vanden Boogard Subject: Role Reversal (Part One) It's hard to say when it all began. I had just turned seventeen when Mom passed away. It was hard on me, to be sure, but it was much harder on my Dad. For the first week, if he wasn't crying, he was sullen and depressed, and barely spoke at all. Mom didn't work outside the house. She had chosen to stay at home and take care of us, keeping the house clean, making our meals, paying the bills. She never complained about it, and always made sure we knew how much she loved us. It's easy to see now that she's gone how good Dad and I had it. Dad was always the role model, the authoritarian, the strong and able type. But that all changed after Mom died. Or maybe I just changed the way I looked at him. Suddenly I could see the worry on Dad's face, the occasional uncertainty he felt. He had been reliant on Mom for so long for so many things, suddenly he found that there was a lot that he didn't know. I think that's when I started to feel compassion for my Dad, and started to fall in love with him. I was sitting on the couch, watching TV. Dad was in the kitchen, which is separated from the living room and dining area only by a long island. He was trying to cook supper and had opened up a cupboard to get a dish or something, and just stopped. He didn't know what he was looking for, which dish to use, and he felt powerless. I saw the look on his face and felt so sorry for him, and at the same time realized how handsome he was, and how he was such a good person that he deserved my love and respect. I fired myself up immediately and went to help him, and he collapsed onto my shoulder, bawling like a baby. After that I stopped chumming around with my friends so much so that I could spend more time with my Dad. It wasn't just because I thought that he needed some companionship, but I really wanted to be with him. Like most son's, the older I got, the less I wanted to do with him. But now all of that changed, and I started to see what type of person he really was and how much he had to teach me. I also found that I wanted to make his life easier, and every day I would come straight home from school and start tidying up the house. I had never learned how to cook much, except microwave oatmeal, so Dad always had to make supper, but at least I could get the other stuff done, like the laundry and the sweeping and such. Then things really took a turn for the worst. Dad's company started making cutbacks, and though he had had a pretty high position in the company, he was one of the people they let go. He was really shaken up when he came home and told me, and apologized over and over again. "Dad, it's okay, it's not your fault." I was still a month away from graduating, and two months away from turning eighteen, but I went out that same weekend to find a part time job. I got lucky, too. Mr. Rees needed a stock boy for his hardware store. Three hours a night, from six to nine, and six hours on Saturday, eight until two, and I started that first Monday. The pay wasn't great, but at least we had some money coming in, and Dad had set aside a fair amount, though it wouldn't last real long. Dad went out and scoured the city for a new job too, but kept getting turned down time after time. They kept telling him he was over-qualified, or some other such bullshit. Dad didn't care what job he got. He was willing to flip burgers if that was his only option. "I'm sorry, Son, I don't know what else to do," he apologized again one night. "Don't worry Dad, we`ll make it." I didn't feel as confident as I tried to sound, but Dad was grateful for my support. So grateful, in fact, that he took me in his arms and kissed me. It startled me for a moment, but I had been wanting that kiss so bad for so long that I immediately kissed him back. When we pulled apart, we looked at each other and something clicked, something connected, and before we knew it we were writhing naked on the floor, our hands groping each other's bodies and our lips locked together. We stroked each other to climax, then looked at each other again and started to laugh, our laughter slowly subsiding until we dozed in each other's arms. Suddenly Dad was back to his energetic self and hit the streets with a new vigor, determined to find a job. As luck would have it, it was only a week later that I received a promotion. I had just turned eighteen three weeks before and I went in to work to find out that Mr. Rees's manager had quit. I never found out the details, but he had just walked out on the job, leaving the store unattended until Mr. Rees came in three hours later. Fortunately nothing had been stolen. Even the cash had been left in the register. "Listen, Mark. In the last three months you've proven to me that you're smart, reliable, and trustworthy. Now I know it's a big step up, and a lot of responsibility, but I want you to take over the store for me." What could I say? We needed the money, and I was more than honored at being offered the job. "Oh, God, Son, that's fabulous. I am so proud of you!" Dad made a huge meal that night to celebrate, and even opened a bottle of wine. After supper we sat on the couch to watch TV, and in no time we were kissing each other, our hands roaming up shirts and down each other's pants. I unbuttoned my jeans and zipped down my fly, and Dad knelt between my legs to help pull them down, then bent to wrap his lips around my already swelling cock. It felt so good that I groaned, closing my eyes and throwing my head back. I had never had a blow job before, and it felt fantastic. Within minutes I felt myself rising to climax. "Uh, Dad, stop, I'm going to cum." He didn't stop though. Instead he wrapped his tongue around my shaft and started drawing down slower and deeper, until he was swallowing my whole cock. "Daaaaaaaaad....." I moaned, unable to hold back. I shot my load in his mouth, expecting him to be shocked by it and run real fast to spit it out. Instead, he moaned right along with me, swallowing my cum greedily and sucking until he had every last drop. I was panting so hard I could barely talk, but wanted to do the same thing for him. "No. You deserved that. You're the man of the house now." I felt a little guilty, but let Dad pay me the compliment, offering to get up and refill our wine glasses. "No, I'll get them. You just stay there and relax and watch your show." He pulled off my shoes before getting up to get the wine, setting them in the front hall. I pulled my pants back up around my waist, then settled in as Dad gave me my wine and sat back down next to me. I started my new job right away at eight o'clock Monday morning, working until four thirty every day with a half an hour off for lunch. Mr. Rees was there every day to train me in my new duties; inventory and record keeping, the cash deposits, scheduling the other employees, calling vendors and tracking receipts, and everything else that went with the job. His daughter came in from noon to eight three days a week, while Larry covered her shift the other three days, and between the two of them I always had to make sure that there was someone available. Mr. Rees hired a new stock boy, too, a kid who was a year older than me with a cocky attitude. I didn't have any problems with him at first, but that was probably because Mr. Rees was always somewhere nearby. Larry, too, was a little resentful that Mr. Rees had given the job to me. I could tell by his body language, and the way he looked at me, but he didn't say anything. I was exhausted by the time I got home from work, and when I opened the door I could smell supper cooking. Dad saw me from the counter and hurried over, leading me to his chair at the dining room table and having me sit so he could tug my shoes off my feet. It felt so good to have them off that I moaned, and Dad smiled. Then he served supper and asked me about my day and how things went. It felt weird sitting in Dad's spot at the head of the table, but I told him what had gone on, saying that I wasn't sure that I would be able to handle all of the responsibility. "You'll do fine, you'll do great." "How was your day?" I asked, realizing suddenly that this was just like the conversations Mom and Dad used to have at the table, only now the roles were reversed. I was Dad, and Dad was Mom. "It was okay. Haven't found anything yet," he indicated the newspaper lying on the counter, "but I got the house clean and did some grocery shopping." When we were done eating I started to help clean off the table, but Dad told me that he'd get it; I had a hard day and should just relax. The weather had warmed up nicely, so I decided to go outside for a bit and slipped my shoes back on at the front hall, then wandered out the back door and into the yard. Before Mom had passed away, Dad had started to build her a stone wall along the back of the property with a gate leading down into the ravine behind the house. He hadn't gotten very far, though, and a huge pile of rocks stood in the one corner of the yard. I started thinking about Mom and how happy she was when Dad started it. He had dug the trench from one side of the yard to where the gate would be, and had laid the first few stones in it, but that was when Mom had gotten sick, and he had never gotten back to it. For no reason at all I picked up a stone and started filling in the trench, and had almost the entire first layer down when Dad came out to ask what I was doing. "I'm completing your job," I said, hefting another stone into place. I don't know why I answered that way, but Dad hung his head and turned away. I was so focused on what stone would go where next that I barely noticed, but just kept working, going into the shed to get the wheelbarrow and concrete. I mixed up one bag and set the first layer of stones, then cleaned up. The sun had disappeared below the horizon and it was getting dark. Entering the back door, I kicked my dirty shoes off onto the carpet. Dad was standing there and looked at me sheepishly. "There's a fresh towel hanging in the bathroom for your shower, and I put a pair of pajama bottoms on the counter." "Okay," I said, then emptied my pockets on the kitchen table and went into the laundry room to strip off my clothes. When I got out of the shower I went to my bedroom to slip on a T-shirt as well. Dad was sitting on the couch watching TV, and had cleaned my shoes and put them back in the front hall. I was dying of thirst, so I grabbed a soda and went to sit next to him. He didn't say anything, but a few moments later he put his hand on my crotch and started rubbing me. I turned to look at him and he looked at me, smiled a meek little smile, then turned away, his hands opening up the fly of my pajamas to pull my hardening cock out. Before I could say or do anything, he bent over to take it in his mouth. It felt so good that there wasn't anything that I could do but melt into the couch. He continued to suck as he rolled off the couch to kneel between my spread legs. I was fascinated, watching his head bob up and down, watching as his wet lips rode up and down my cock and his tongue flicked out to caress it. He sighed and moaned, opening his mouth to play with the tip of my cock with his tongue. Sliding his tongue down the underside of my shaft he started to lick my balls, his right hand popping open his shorts so he could stroke his own cock. I was mesmerized, his tongue lifting my hairy sac as he licked at it, his lips sucking in one nut at a time. I expected it to hurt, but instead it felt wonderful. He glanced up at me briefly, but then looked sheepishly away as he dropped his mouth down around my cock again. Without thinking I set my hand on top of his head, guiding it up and down onto my cock. "It's coming Dad," I said as I felt the build of my orgasm. His hand was whacking hard on his own cock, and suddenly I couldn't contain it anymore, groaning as I shot my load into his mouth. He wrapped his lips tight around my cock and swallowed, moaning as his own load shot into the air and onto the carpet. "I'll...I'll clean this up," he said as he backed off, tucking himself in before he scampered away to get a rag. I didn't know what to think or do, so I just sat there, watching as he got back onto his hands and knees to wipe his spunk off the carpet. "Well, I'm going to bed," I said as he went to rinse out the rag, slamming the last of my soda and setting the can on the table on the side. He didn't say anything, so I traipsed upstairs to my room and crawled into bed. If you like this story, please give me some feedback. Thanks