Date: Tue, 6 Apr 2010 11:50:49 +0100 From: Harry Miller Subject: Tactile Sam EXPLICIT CONTENT FOR ADULTS ONLY. This story is a work of fiction: the characters aren't real, the plot isn't true, the places don't exist. The story contains scenes of a sexual nature between a father and his young son. If you are a minor, or it is illegal for you to read this story, then stop reading now. Commercial use of this work is prohibited without the author's express permission. I was so frustrated at the lack of stories on Nifty that involved frottage, I decided to write my own. It's a shame there aren't more frot stories - why don't you write one and submit it? This is my first story; please let me know what you think. Tactile Sam Oops, I've hit the kitchen window again. But Uncle Greg says I have to keep practicing my throws, we've got a match soon and we desperately want to win. He lives in the next village and is our coach. He's so cool, has loads of money and a nice car, but makes us train really hard so that we can win our matches. I don't see him much, except when we play tag rugby; he's a salesman so is on the road a lot (whatever that means). He used to play rugby for a local team when he was younger, and he's still really fit. I've seen some pictures of him playing in big matches, and it always gives me a tingling feeling in my willy when I look at them. He's so muscular, and his thick cotton shorts fit ever so tightly (if you look carefully you can see the shape of his bits!). I think about Uncle Greg sometimes when I'm in bed. I lie on my tummy and rub my willy against the mattress. I love that feeling of my flannelette pajamas rubbing against my willy and balls as I move my hips around (Dad says that 'balls' is a rude word and I shouldn't use it, but I don't know what else to call them). Sometimes I rub up and down for ages, and get faster and faster, just imagining myself playing rugby with Uncle Greg, getting into tackles with him and rolling around on the grass, cuddling. After a while, I feel like I'm going to have a wee or a sneeze, and then I feel all giddy and go to sleep with a big smile on my face. Loads of boys from my school are in the tag rugby team, and I love playing sports and anything else that means I can be outside, which has been difficult over the winter months. Mum says I'm very tactile (I think that means I like hugging people), and that's why I love playing contact sports. The grown-ups at my school are really nice, especially Mr. Ellis my teacher, although I prefer to play with the children in Year 3 as the others in my class play like babies most of the time. My name is Sam, and I'm 7 years old. I don't think Dad's noticed that I've hit the window. He and Mum have been arguing a lot over the last few weeks and it scares me a lot. Mum screams and shouts all the time, and Dad gets very upset, but I don't understand what it's all about. I think they just don't like each other anymore. Mum went to stay with her sister at the beginning of the Easter holidays, and thankfully she's taken my horrid sister with her, so it's just Dad and me at home. Dad's on the phone to her now, and it doesn't sound like they're making up. Mr. Ellis says that it's much nicer to be friends with the people we like, and we shouldn't fall out over silly things. I wish he would speak to Mum and Dad so they would understand and make friends. I might have to go and stay with my older brother. Adrian's 24 years old, and really he's my half brother, although I don't exactly understand what the difference is; I think he has a different Mum. I love Adrian: he's the best brother in the world, and looks after me whenever Dad has to go out, or just to play and have fun. He teaches swimming at the local sports centre in the next village and says I'm old enough for him to teach me how to swim properly, and maybe I could swim in the Olympics and get a gold medal one day. I have a little sister too, a full sister, but she's just annoying. We're half way through the holidays now, and judging by Dad's phone call with Mum, she's not coming back this weekend. Well, at least that means my sister isn't either! "Sam," Dad calls. Oh dear, perhaps he did hear the ball hit the window. He comes to the back door, "Sam, come here love, we need to talk." He sits on the back step, and opens his arms wide. He wants a cuddle - great! Once I'm sat in his lap, with his huge arms wrapped around me, I snuggle up and he starts telling me about his phone call with Mum. I don't pay too much attention to what he says; I prefer to play with the buttons on his shirt, to tickle the hairs on his chest through the gaps between the buttons, and to rub my hands up and down his strong arms. But I get the idea and I was right: things aren't looking good between him and Mum. It's very confusing, though: if she's gone and not coming back, does that mean he's going to go away too? I don't want to stay in the house on my own, I can't cook, and the house is so big and makes funny noises at night. I'm sure they'll sort things out. After dinner, we watch some TV together (just another excuse for me to cuddle up to Dad, really). But then he announces it's time to get ready for bed. We go through the same routine each night: bath, pajamas, teeth, into bed, he reads a story, lights off, sleep. Suddenly, I wake up crying. Where am I? What's going on? Where's Dad - has he left me all alone? I jump up and run to his room; it's still dark and I stub my toe on the doorframe (that really, really hurts). "Dad, Dad are you there?" I shout. I see this large shadow rise up from his bed. "What's up? What time is it? Are you OK, Sam?" His voice is all sleepy. "Dad, you left, I was all alone, I didn't know what to do and the house was empty." I cry. Even in the darkness, I can see him throw back the covers. "Come on, you've had a nightmare, there's nothing to be worried about. Give me a cuddle and go back to sleep; you'll feel much better soon." I haven't slept in my parent's bed for as long as I can remember; Mum didn't think it was good for me, and I should always sleep in my own bed, even if I had the flu and felt like rubbish. So, I don't hesitate, and despite still feeling quite scared, I jump up onto the bed, and snuggle right up to Dad without a second thought. Dad doesn't have any pajamas on, only his white cotton boxers, so it's nice to be able to snuggle right up against him. I can feel the warmth of his body seep through my pajamas, and make me feel really nice straight away. It's like soaking in a really hot bath. I turn on my side to face away from Dad, so it's a bit like I'm sitting in his lap, and he spoons right up to me, putting his enormous arm around me, and within seconds we're both fast asleep. Slowly, I emerge from sleep. Sunlight is starting to stream through a gap in the bedroom curtains, another lovely day. I remember straight away where I am, and snuggle back up against Dad. In his slumber, he tightens his grip on me, like how I cuddle my teddy sometimes, and gives me a big squeeze. Clearly Dad's still asleep though: I can hear his breathing is slow and a little like snoring. But it feels different snuggling up against him; he's quite hot. I reach behind me, and realize his willy is really stiff and poking into my back. Uncomfortable as I am, I wiggle a bit to get in a more comfortable position. My back is right up against Dad's belly now. His willy is poking up against my bum cheeks a bit, but this is the best I can do. I start to doze off again. Before I can fall asleep, Dad starts wriggling a bit himself, rubbing up against me with his hips, just like how I do against my bed when I'm thinking of Uncle Greg. It's quite nice really: it's like a super special cuddle. Unfortunately, his willy is still very stiff, and every time he moves it keeps sticking in my bum cheek. I shift my position a little so that his willy's pointing more towards my bum crack. That's better; instead of poking my cheek, his willy is rubbing slightly in and out of the crack between my cheeks, which doesn't hurt, although I still don't think I'll be able to get back to sleep. Dad starts to make some snuffling sounds, and I get the impression he isn't totally comfortable. He lifts his arm from around me, and moves it between us. He fumbles around, and thankfully then puts his arm around me again and cuddles me tightly. I think he must have pulled his willy out of the hole in the front of his boxers, because I can feel it much better now between my bum cheeks. He starts rubbing up against me again, and his willy is moving even further in between my cheeks, now that his boxers aren't holding it back. Back and forth he moves, slowly rubbing his willy against my bum. But I still can't sleep: the movement of his hips and willy are making my pajamas go tight around my bum and thighs. It's quite hot in Dad's bed, all cuddled up, and I want to go back to sleep, so the sensible thing seems to be to push my pajama bottoms down a little, so they don't get all tangled up. There, that's better. Dad's willy feels a little wet against my bum, but it's not uncomfortable really. Without his boxers and my pajamas in the way, it's much easier for his willy to slide in between my bum cheeks. He rubs a little harder now, and the end of his willy's actually going between my thighs. I can feel it stabbing against my balls, and it's quite nice. It's only now that I realize that my willy's gone all stiff too, although that happens all the time; I often sit in front of the TV with my hand down my pants, rubbing my willy; it's relaxing. Dad must be having a strange dream, as he's moaning a little bit - he sounds like Uncle Greg when he's had a lot to drink at Christmas. I can't make out if he's saying any words; he sounds like Frankenstein's monster in that old black and white movie. He shifts his arm that's around my chest, and puts it up the front of my pajama top (he must be cold). How nice does that feel: Dad's huge hand, his skin a little rough against my soft, smooth skin, but nevertheless very warm and soothing, slowly rubbing up and down my belly. Now I don't want to sleep, I just want to cuddle up to Dad all day like this. Dad's dream must be getting more exciting now, because his hips are moving quite a lot, which is making his willy slide in between my thighs quite a lot. He pulls away, and just before his willy slips out, he pushes it back into my thighs. This keeps going for a while, and every time he pushes, it's harder and harder, until he's actually banging against my back. His willy, rubbing against my balls and the bottom of my own willy, is getting quite wet and slippery. He shifts his arm so that it's on top of my thigh, and he gently strokes it. Then his hand slides down so that he's slowly moving it up and down the inside of my thigh, very gently, just grazing against my balls each time. Wow, this feels great. He rests his hand on the top of my thigh again, and the weight of it squeezes my thighs together a little. This feels even nicer, so I squeeze my thighs together some more, pressing them against Dad's willy as it slips between them. It must feel good for Dad too, because he starts really pounding against me. He shifts his arm back to my belly, but lower than before, just above my willy. Sometimes, when he pushes against me, the end of my willy brushes against his rough hand, and that feels awesome. I realize that he's rubbing up against me and I'm rubbing back against him, we both have a stiff willy and are rubbing them against each other's body. I notice that Dad's breathing is getting faster and faster, heavier and heavier. At the same time, I start to feel strange, like I do when I'm rubbing my willy against my bed. Dad's really pushing hard, in and out, and if it weren't for the nice feelings in my own willy when it rubs against his hand, and the tickling feeling in my balls whenever his willy presses into them, it might actually be quite uncomfortable. Suddenly, Dad starts crying out and I feel something hot squirting onto my balls and between my thighs. Several times I feel something shoot at my balls, and the tip of his willy seems to spread it around. Soon, that whole area between my thighs is very moist and feels sticky. He moans and moans, and then presses hard right against me before stopping his rubbing. I feel some more hot liquid squirting against my balls, and it's so nice I start to get that giddy feeling I've had before, and I my whole body goes tense, just like Dad's just did. I grab his hand that's on my belly, and instinctively press it down onto my willy. The feeling lasts just a few seconds, but once it passes I feel all warm and glowing, and relax back against Dad. His willy's still stiff and between my thighs, and for a few minutes he just lies there, slowly moving his hips around so his willy moves about between my bum cheeks. Eventually his willy seems to go soft and shrink, but it doesn't move out of my cheeks completely. All of a sudden, Dad seems to freeze and stop breathing. He sits bolt upright in bed and starts stuttering. "Sam, what the...? Have I been dreaming, or did I just...? Oh my God, are you all right? I'm so sorry; I thought I was having a bizarre dream! Shit. Shit. Shit." He jumps out of bed and starts pacing around. He realizes that his willy is flopping around as it's still poking out of his boxers, so he shoves it back in. He looks quite agitated, and it scares me; I don't know what's wrong. "Dad?" I start to cry. He comes over, but doesn't cuddle me; he doesn't touch me at all. "Sam, are you OK, did I hurt you?" he asks. "No," I sob, "we were cuddling. Why are you being all weird? You're scaring me! Are you leaving too, like Mum?" His eyes look watery. He can't help himself, and pulls me off the bed and into his arms. I throw my arms around his neck, and he cups one hand under my bum cheeks to hold me up, and wraps the other around my back to hold me tight. My pajama bottoms slide off onto the floor, and I can feel the liquid dribbling down my legs. I can tell that he can feel it to - he removes one of his hands and looks at it. He looks sad, so I squeeze my arms around him some more, to show him I'm OK and that I love him. I give him a kiss on the neck, and blow a raspberry. That always makes him laugh, and it doesn't fail now. He giggles and buckles at the knees. Quickly he spins round and sits down on the bed. I'm facing him, with my arms around his neck, and my knees either side of his waist. We hug each other really hard, but other than that, neither of us moves, and he doesn't say anything. I can almost hear him thinking. I don't know what to do, so I blow another raspberry on his neck. He shrieks with laughter and I push him onto his back. "Hey, stop that, little man, it's not fair." We both laugh, and look each other in the eye. Dad's still thinking, I can tell, but it's all calm and quiet again in Dad's bedroom. I'm now lying completely on top of Dad's, with my head tucked under his chin, my belly against his belly, and my legs have slipped in between his legs. He squeezes his thighs together to grip onto me, and his gives me a big hug. His right arm starts stroking my shoulders while his other hand is gently stroking my bottom. We're both very warm and comfortable. We both seem to doze a little, just lying there, enjoying the feeling of lying together. I notice that my willy's starting to tingle a bit. As Dad breathes, his belly is pressing into me, and the hairs on his belly tickle. I move my hips a little, and Dad keeps stroking my back and my bottom. I have a big smile on my face; it's so nice to be this close to Dad. Again I can feel something start to poke into me; I guess it must be his willy going all stiff again. Ever so slightly, he pushes his hips up a couple of times, and I can definitely feel his willy rubbing up against me. Like before, it's just underneath my balls, and the end of his willy is pressing into them each time he moves. Then he stops. "Are you OK?" he asks. "Definitely," I reply, "I love cuddling you like this. It's super!" I tell him. "It does feel nice, doesn't it." he whispers. I can tell by his voice that he's not sure about something, but we just lie there, and ever so slowly, we start rubbing against each other again. He lifts his head, stares into my deep brown eyes, and then kisses me on my forehead. His huge hand smoothes my short, dark brown hair. He moves his hand back to my bottom and presses a little harder now, pushing me against his belly. Oh that feels nice, my willy is rubbing quite hard against the hairs on his belly now. At the same time, his stiff willy slips between my thighs again and up my bum crack. He lets out a little moan, but it doesn't sound at all like pain, it sounds like he's very happy. He starts moving his hips more and more, lifting them a little off the bed so he can press harder against me. His hand presses my bum down against him more, and his thighs tighten around my legs to squeeze them together. Just like before, I can feel something wet between my legs, and up my bum crack. His willy is rubbing quite hard along the underside of my willy and against my balls. I can even feel it just touching my bum hole when he pushes up, which feels quite nice. I don't need to rub against him anymore, I can just lie there, and his movements make my willy rub against him. He grips me tighter and tighter, but it doesn't hurt. I can tell from his breathing and the noises he's making that he really loves this, and I am too. Back and forth, his willy slides between my legs, each time just stabbing lightly against my bum hole. He's moving faster and faster, and his breathing is getting heavier and heavier. Suddenly, he holds me very tightly, and thrusts against me really hard. I feel something land on my back, it's wet, and then I feel a couple of wet spurts up my bum crack, and Dad starts to relax. The wet stuff starts dribbling down my crack and along my bum hole; I realize that I've tensed up too and am wriggling really hard against Dad and breathing really quickly. I get all giddy again, but have that lovely warm feeling all over my body. Both of us go all floppy, like we're exhausted. Dad throws his arms back above his head, and although I'm tempted, I don't start tickling his armpits, it doesn't feel like the right time. We lie there for a little while, but I'm hungry now. "Come on Dad, I'm starving. Make me some breakfast please!" He just lies there, smiling at me. I jump off and run to my room to put some clothes on. I think I'd better have a shower first, because I'm still all wet and sticky between my legs, my bum cheeks and up my back. Just a quick shower, though; the sun's shining and we might get to eat breakfast outside on the patio.