Date: Sun, 21 Jul 2002 07:48:29 -0700 (PDT)
From: Pete Brown <petebrownuk@yahoo.com>
Subject: Stripper! , Part 1

STRIPPER!

By Pete Brown (petebrownuk @ yahoo.com)

Read all of Pete's stories in
groups.yahoo.com/group/petebrownseroticories


The poet who wrote the famous modern verse "They fuck
you up, your mom and dad..." didn't have it right.
What really fucks you up is having your mom die whey
you're nine years old, especially if you dad's a
Marine, and away all the time.

Mom didn't suffer - one minute she was there, and the
next she wasn't - killed by a drunk a the wheel of his
car.  Dad didn't want to leave the Marines, and there
was no way he could look after me by himself -
"married quarters" just aren't designed for single
dads bringing up their sons alone.  Fortunately his
twin brother Bob and his wife Jen agreed to look after
me, and so dad carried on with his unit, and I moved
to their comfortable home in North Carolina.

Bob and Jen were really good to me.  But they weren't
mom and dad, and a boy of that age needs his parents.
I guess that's why I started to go a bit wild, in
spite of all their efforts, and all their love:  they
really did try hard.  Somehow, the harder they tried,
the worse I felt I needed to be in return.

Dad did the best he could, and spent all his leave
time with us.  He didn't try to spoil me by bringing
me lavish presents on his trips "home", but instead
spent every minute of those vacations with me, taking
me swimming, to the beach, to watch sports, camping,
everything.  He was of course fantastically fit and
could do all of those sorts of things really well, and
he always encouraged me to take good care of my body,
not to eat too much, and to exercise properly.
Actually, although I was good at lessons and could
easily do well at school, it was all part of my
"image" to do badly as part of my "rebellion", and the
only thing I tried really hard at was sport of all
types - I was quite a "jock", and you could always
find me out on the track or on the field, or, failing
that, working out.

I quietened down a bit when I discovered sex.  Jerking
off was the best thing I ever did, especially when I
found out how good it was to do it whilst thinking
about girls.  Then I really found the best thing ever
- by 15, I was fucking every girl I could persuade to
go with me.  I don't think the other guys at high
school were as far advanced as me, but I just loved
it.

It all came crashing down because of that silly cunt
Steph.  She told me she was on the pill, and I hated
using condoms as I knew they really took away most of
my pleasure.  She was lying, of course, as she didn't
really believe two fifteen year olds could make
babies!  Anyway, her parents really cut up rough and
dad had to be brought home to try to sort things out.

After she had been aborted as both her parents and dad
agreed there was no way we were going to bring up a
kid at that age, there was no question of me going
back to the High School - they were glad to get rid of
a real rebel (And I think Steph's dad being on the
School Board had something to do with it!).  Dad
thought about sending me to a Military School to try
and instil some sense into me with good old-fashioned
discipline, but, as luck would have it, just a that
time the Marines announced a programme whereby "long
servers" like Dad could cut and run if they wanted to,
with almost the same package of leaving benefits as if
they stayed to the end of their terms.  Dad was 36
then and had been in the Marines for 18 years, and
still had two years to serve, but he decided to quit.
He told me that he was going to concentrate on
bringing me up right from now on, and that he would
come home and we would live together.

It wasn't that easy:  although they tell you that the
Military teach you hundreds of trades that will be
useful in civilian life, there wasn't much call for
tough marines trained as superb fighting and killing
machines in the high-tech belt in NC where we lived.
Sure, there were lots of jobs pumping gas and sweeping
streets, but you couldn't expect dad to do that sort
of work, could you?  And given the problem with my
school, dad decided we should move.

He found a job in New Mexico, where they were opening
up some of the old mineral mines.  They needed strong,
tough men to work down the mines, and dad was never
one to mind hard work.  Living costs would be low
there, too, so dad said he wouldn't need to spend any
of his leaving gratuity and it could all be saved for
my college fund.  Almost before we knew it we were off
in dad's car, driving to our new life.

The town wasn't much when we got there - apart from
the offices of the mining company, a gas station, a
couple of bars, and the usual scattering of fast food
joints and motels, it was pretty much dead.  Almost
everyone who lived there worked for the mining
company, and they owned most of the houses in the
town, too, and rented them out to the workers.

Dad had arranged to rent a two-bedroomed house - well,
it was actually more like a cabin - on the outskirts
of the town, and for the first three nights after we
arrived we stayed in one of the cheap motels whilst he
got it fixed up.

If you looked at us, we could almost have been
brothers.  Although dad was 20 years older than me,
his time in the Marines had kept him young looking:
his great physical condition helped, of course, as
there was not an ounce of fat on his lean 6'2" frame,
unlike most of the men of his age you saw around who
were either fat or getting that way.  And I was mature
for my age, and could easily pass as being 20 - I
suppose a lot of that had to do with all the fucking,
and the good healthy exercise, too.

Dad and I had always shared a room at a motel when we
were vacationing, so it was no surprise when he only
booked one for us now.  There were the usual two
queen-size beds, and we were only going to be there
for three nights, after all.  But of course I now
realised there was a problem - I was so used to having
sex all the time that I needed to jerk off at least
twice a day:  a boy is at his most virile and his
horniest when he's 16, after all.  I felt awkward about
doing this with dad around - the bathroom was in a
sort of alcove in the room, so it wasn't private, and
dad an I spent all our time together, either cleaning
out the house, or at the mall in the nearby city
buying stuff like bed linen and china, or just eating.
 It ought have been easy just to give myself a quick
hand job when we were in our respective beds, but dad
was a light sleeper and the moment I started to jerk
myself off, I just knew that he was awake, listening
to me.

"It's OK, Steve", I heard him say as I stopped pulling
at my dick, "101% of American men jerk off, and the
rest are liars!  Go ahead - I know how hard it is to
sleep with your dick rock hard and your balls bursting
with spunk.  I've spent most of my last 20 years
sleeping in barracks with other guys, and we all were
jerking away after lights-out."

I think he wanted to reassure me, because I then heard
the unmistakable sound of another guy jerking of -
that characteristic sound as the hand slides over the
dick and the faint "slap" as it catches the ring of
your dick head - and, of course, as dad was in bed,
that small rustle of the sheets you always get even if
you raise your knee to make a sort of tent.  I could
also hear dad's breathing quicken, and then stop,
followed by a faint sigh of content, so I knew he must
have cum.

When dad first spoke to me my own dick had gone soft,
but lying there listening to dad I had gone rock hard
again, so I decided to go ahead and jerk off - it only
took me a moment or two unlike dad, who had taken a
couple of minutes):  I guess that's the difference
between 16 and 36.

I jerked off again early the following morning, too,
and I knew that dad was awake, listening to me, but he
didn't say anything more and he didn't jerk himself
off either.  As I got out of bed to go to the
bathroom, I tried to conceal the tissue I had used to
catch my cum, but it was of course quite a big wad as
I knew that I spurted so much that I always took a big
pile of tissue.

Dad saw this in my hand, and said "You don' t need to
bother with that, Steve!  The maids in these motels
change the sheets every day, and they're used to
seeing cum marks on them."

I blushed a bit, because I wasn't easy talking about
things like this with dad, so I sort of mumbled "Oh,
it's OK, I always do it like this...."

"Well, Steve, be careful then.  Some of the guys in
the barracks used to catch their cum with tissue, then
they'd fall asleep without balling it up and tossing
it out of their bunks.  The cum dries and your dick
head gets covered in dried-on tissue, and it's really
difficult to get it off!  You have to wait until
you're in the shower, and then all the other guys
laugh at you as you stand there scratching away at
your dick head trying to get the bits of paper off."

I was still mumbling, and blushing more.  "Aw, dad -
well, you know... Well, I don't like to think of the
maid seeing all that stuff on the sheet...."

Dad threw the covers aside, and I saw him naked there
on his bed.  He had taken his boxers off in bed, and
they were lying in the gap between the beds in a
crumpled heap.

"Look here, son.  See - nothing on my dick head, and
no stains on the sheets.  You should learn to deal
with your cum in the way that real men do, as we
always taught the men in our squad to do eventually."

As he spoke, dad had held his dick up and pointed at
me so that I could see there was no paper adhering to
it, and he shuffled back across the bed and gestured
to the undersheet, which was clean (apart for a couple
of dad's wiry pubic hairs that had come lose during
the night).

Dad went on "Now you're a man, you'd better start
acting like one.  When we move into the cabin, I don't
want bits of screwed up toilet tissue lying around
under the bed and so on - you young guys always forget
to dispose of them sooner or later.  And we don't
always want to be laundering the sheets - so do what
the marines do!"

"What's that, dad?"

"As you start to cum, catch it in your other hand.
Then you just lick it off, and swallow it."

"Aw, dad!  That's disgusting!  Eat my own cum?  That's
gross!"

"Look, Steve, when you're living in close proximity to
a lot of other guys you learn to do things that you
wouldn't necessarily do if you were alone - you need
to make life as good as you can for all of you, and
not just think about yourself.  So you think about not
pissing in the shower, unless you have to, and keeping
the barracks neat and tidy.  And in any case, eating
cum - your own or another guy's - isn't gross, it's
perfectly natural.  Good wholesome protein."

"Dad, I couldn't.  The smell is disgusting...."

"So you haven't even tried licking at it, just
experimentally?"

"NO!"

To my amazement, as he lay there dad started to play
with his dick and was soon erect.  He kept his eyes on
me as he jerked himself off, and caught his cum in his
hand.  I'd really only seen my own cum before, and I
suppose I was surprised that there was relatively
little of dad's -  a lot less than I usually spurted -
but it was sort of thicker and creamier.

Still looking at me, dad pulled himself to sit
upright, then held out his hand towards me.

"Come over here, son.  It's time you had some lessons
in real manliness.  This is how we taught all the new
recruits - I want you to kneel down, then smell my
cum."

I didn't know what to say, or to do.  It seemed a
revolting sort of thing to do.  But dad was used to
being obeyed, and you can't not do what your dad tell
you, can you?  Especially as he said that it was what
all the marines did.  So I moved over and knelt down,
then cautiously moved my face towards dad's open palm.
 I could smell the sweat and general man-smell from
dad as he hadn't showered that morning yet of course,
overlaid by that strange, unique smell of cum -
faintly like ammonia, but more complex.

"Aw dad - it smells disgusting, just like I said."

"Yes, Steve - the smell is strange. But cum is one of
those things that doesn't taste like it smells - it
doesn't taste of anything, really.  Now I want you,
very slowly, to bend over my hand, and then lick up
some of this."

"No, dad!  I can't!  It makes me want to puke.  I
can't believe anyone actually eats cum!"

Still with his eyes locked onto mine, dad raised his
hand to his own face and licked slowly along it with
his tongue.  He lowered his hand towards me, at the
same time licking his lips.

"See - real men do eat cum!  You don't think your dad
would fool you, do you?  We used to get a lot of young
recruits into our squad just like you, who had never
tasted cum.  But part of becoming a man, part of
growing up, is to learn to eat cum.  If you're not
used to eating cum, you'll look stupid the first time
you take another guy's dick in your mouth.  You don't
want to find yourself having to pull away when you're
giving the guy a BJ just because you think he might
start to cum, do you?"

"I'm not going to blow any other guys, dad!  That's
disgusting, too."

"Didn't you make any of those girls you were fucking
suck you off as part of foreplay?"


This was really getting heavy!  I'd never had this
sort of conversation with anyone before, let alone my
dad.  But I couldn't not answer, could I?  So I sort
of shuffled around on my knees, and mumbled:  "Well,
yes, once or twice.  Some of the girls were happy to
give me a blow job, when they wouldn't allow me to
fuck them."

"Did you enjoy it?"

"Well, yes...."

"So if you were stuck with a crowd of guys for some
days, with no women around, wouldn't you like a blow
job from one of them?   You know, if you shut your
eyes, you can't tell from the sensation what sex the
mouth is around your dick!  Except that most guys can
suck you off a lot better than most of the women I've
had - I suppose we know more about what really causes
the pleasure!"

"Well...  When we were away with the team, I think
some of the guys were doing something like that.  But
I didn't join in...."

"Look, Steve, you've got to be part of the team!  If
all your buddies are having a circle jerk, or are
blowing each other off, you join in.  It's a lot of
fun, anyway, and it really makes you much closer-knit.
 Now, stop being a silly kid, show me you're a man,
and clean my hand up!"

He pushed his hand towards me again, and I could see
the slimy remains of his cum lying there.  I moved my
head down, and fought had to suppress the awful
gagging sensation in my throat as my nose was assailed
by the smell of the cum.  I stuck my tongue out, and
touched it  to the sticky mess in dad's palm.  I
thought I was going to throw up, but, to my amazement,
it was just like dad said - the taste was nothing like
the smell, and I instantly felt better.  Cautiously I
moved my tongue over dad's palm, then lapped at it, to
clean up all the traces of his cum.

It was sort of sweet, sort of sour - well, I don't
have to tell you, of course, as you all know what cum
tastes like.  I've learned over the years that there's
almost no difference in taste between guys - sure,
when you do down on another guy's crotch a lot smell
differently at first and most guys' dicks have a
slightly different variation on that characteristic
musty smell as you first get a whiff of them.  And
most guys' cum has slightly different smells - but the
taste is almost exactly the same, sort of no taste, as
we all know.

"Good man, Steve!  Now I want you to promise me that
tonight you'll catch and eat all your own cum.  If
we're going to live together, I want you to act like a
real man, not a schoolboy, understand?"

I looked up at dad, who looked happy now.

"Sure, dad"

"OK then - get into the shower - we're got a lot to do
today!"

End of Part 1.  To be continued.