Date: Mon, 28 Jun 2004 12:32:29 -0700
From: PSDesertGuys <jg.ps@gte.net>
Subject: Taking Care of Dad

Taking Care of Dad
by Greg Bowden
jg.ps@gte.net

Comments, criticism and just plain talk appreciated.
All of Nifty's caveats and warnings apply to this story.

My father and I were very close, especially after mom left us, and as I
grew older it became very clear to me just how much I loved him. Oh yea, he
did all the right things when mom left and actually managed to keep me from
feeling abandoned but it was more than that. It was his way of reacting,
his way of seeing something good in just about everything. His way, I
guess, of dealing with the world. And me.

I'd always been aware of how special my dad was, even when I was just a
little kid and didn't know anything about anything. As I grew up though, I
came to realize that I loved him differently from the way the other kids
loved -- or sometimes just tolerated -- their dads. Somehow my dad was
different and that difference called for a special kind of love.

>From the age of fourteen or so I was also obsessed with cocks. All cocks,
every one I could get my eyes on, from the young guys I watched shower in
gym class to the old men I watched pee in public restrooms. My dad's cock
was the best of all, of course, and I did anything I could to see it. If we
were out somewhere I always had to pee when he did and sometimes I even
walked into the bathroom when he was getting out of the shower, pretending
I didn't know he was in there. I didn't always get to see what I wanted but
sometimes I did and that made it all worth it.

When I was fifteen I began to realize why I was obsessed with cocks and
when I was sixteen I had a few experiences with them that helped me come to
terms with the way I was. That sort of scared me for a year or two and I
kind of kept to myself sexually, living on the love of my hand and the
fantasies of my mind. During that time my dad figured very prominently in
my fantasies.

This is all leading up to a weekend in April of 1978 when I was eighteen
and my dad decided we could afford a cabin up in the woods of Taymore
county. Somehow he got a line on a place and one Saturday we drove up to
check it out. It turned out to be pretty basic -- one room, one stove, one
bed, and a scattering of bookcases and old furniture -- but the land it sat
on was unimaginably beautiful, with a sweeping view, hundred foot fir trees
and a good sized creek running smack through the middle of it all. We both
fell in love with the place the minute we started looking around.

The guy who owned the cabin had told us the place was pretty basic and he'd
also told us the creek might be iced over and don't try to cross it except
at the bridge. Dumb me, of course, paid no attention and confidently set
out across it to see what was on the other side. Naturally the guy turned
out to be right and I wasn't half way across when I fell through the damned
ice.

The creek wasn't deep -- maybe six or seven feet where I fell in -- but the
ice kept breaking and wouldn't give me any place to scramble back up on
it. Dad, thinking fast, ran back to the truck and grabbed a length of rope
which we kept in the tool crib. He tossed it to me and managed to drag me
through the water and ice until I could get a grip on the edge and climb
out. Dad was not amused.

"You dumb ox! What the hell did you think you were doing?"

I didn't have a response, partly because I knew I'd been stupid to try and
cross the creek and partly because I was freezing to death.

"Well, don't just stand there in the cold," dad said, "let's get in the
cabin and get a fire going." At that point it began to rain, hard, and
before we got into the cabin dad was as wet as I was. "Only one thing to do
in a case like this," he said, stuffing paper and logs into the stove.
"This fire will take a while to warm the place and in the meantime we'd
better do what we can to conserve what heat we've got.

He began to undress. "Come on, son. Get out of those wet things and let's
get into that bed where at least those thin blankets might help us warm
each other.

I could hardly get out of my clothes the way I was shivering and my teeth
were chattering but once I did dad tossed me a towel he'd found and then
hung our clothes on the back of a chair near the stove. "Okay son, get into
bed and let's try to warm up a little."

In the bed dad pulled me up against him, fitting his body against mine to
let our internal warmth build up. I was still so cold and shivering that I
hardly noticed the feel of his wiry hair against my back or the extra bulk
of his dick against my butt. He put his arm around me, resting his wide
hand on my belly and said, "This okay? You feeling any warmth at all?" My
teeth were still chattering but I managed to say that I was warming up and
thanks for helping me.

We lay that way for a while, until we both began to feel the heat between
us. Then dad suggested we turn over to warm the rest of us. When we did I
found myself pressed up against my dad's back, my cock pulled up and lying
along the valley between his buns and my fingers kind of caught in the mat
of stiff, curly hair on his chest.

As the warmth seeped through us we both dozed a little, floating in that
half world where you kind of know what's happening but you don't have any
control over it and you don't care, either. At one point I felt my cock
begin to thicken and stretch itself even further along dad's ass crack but
it seemed so natural to me that I didn't really think about it, I just
enjoyed the sensation of growing a hard-on. A little later I began to have
a little fantasy.

I woke fully when dad turned onto his back and moved away just a little.
"You gotta pee, son, or were you having a good dream?"

I didn't know quite what he was talking about for a second and when I
realized it was my erection I was so flustered I didn't know what to say.
Then what I did say flustered me even more. "A dream I guess, dad. A
blow-job dream."

"From your state I take it you were enjoying the job and I'm sorry I woke
you," he said with a smile in his voice. Then, quietly, like he was talking
to himself, "You know, it's been so long since I had one of those things
that I can hardly remember what it felt like. It was good, I remember
that. Very good. But just how it felt... well, that's pretty much gone."

Something made me very daring, maybe the soft, almost nostalgic tone he
used. "What's the matter?" I said, trying to keep my voice playful. "Can't
you talk any of your women into blowing you?"

He sighed and turned to look at me. "My experience has been that women give
lousy head. Maybe it's because they don't really know just how it feels to
be on the receiving end, or how it should feel anyway, and how to make it
feel that way. Anyway, to answer your question, no, none of my women, as
you describe them, are into giving me blow-jobs."

Maybe it was just one of my slow days but it took a couple of minutes for
me to put together what he'd said: Blow-jobs felt `Very good' and women
`give lousy head' Then just who in hell was it giving him the great head he
was remembering? I asked.

"Well, I don't suppose it's anything to be ashamed of," he said, more to
the ceiling than to me. "When I was your age, or a little younger, you know
I was in the Navy..."

I knew that. I had a couple of pictures of him in his uniform, the
handsomest sailor in the fleet. In one of the pictures he even showed a
very definite bulge at the crotch of his shore whites. I'd cherished that
picture for years.

"Anyway, when you're out at sea for weeks and months you get pretty
horny. One night I wandered out on the fantail to have a smoke and I came
across three or four guys just hanging around, having a smoke like me. One
of the guys said something to me about having to wait my turn but it
wouldn't be long because there were four that night and they were all very
good. I didn't know what the hell he was talking about until we moved over
to the side and I made out some shapes in the darkness. They turned out to
be four guys standing in front of four others who were squatting on the
deck. The ones squatting were sucking off the ones standing in front of
them."

I could hardly believe I was hearing this from my dad. "So you took your
turn and got your dick sucked?"

"What else was I going to do, walk away from it? I didn't know how I was
going to react but it turned out to be damn good. The guy brought me off in
record time and with a jolt the likes of which I'd never felt before."

I smiled to myself, remembering my first blow-job. I also noted the bulge
in the covers at dad's crotch; remembering this, talking about it, had
given him his own hard-on. "Did you go back the next night for another
one?"

"Well, actually I kind of hung around that same night and got in line
again. The man I got that time was even better at it than the first one but
since I'd just come it took a little longer." He laughed. "Not much longer
but still -- longer. And yes, I did go back the next night and a lot of
other nights too. I got kind of addicted to it for a while I guess; anyway
I couldn't seem to get enough of it. Then we hit a series of shore leaves
and I went back to women but I have to admit, none of them ever managed to
give head like those guys on the ship."

Oh, boy. Was this the opening I'd been looking for the past couple of
years? The time to let dad know about my thing with cocks, or at least tell
him how I felt about men? I thought maybe it was. "What about the guys
giving such great head? What did you feel while they were sucking you off
and later, after you went back to women, what did you think about those
guys?"

He turned and looked at me again. "I don't know. A couple of them were on
my watch and they did their jobs just like everyone else. They sometimes
hung around the showers a little too long but lots of guys did that." He
paused for a second, an odd expression on his face. "A couple of them were
always looking at the guys next to them at the urinals, too, but then most
guys check each other out once in a..." There was a long pause and then he
pulled himself up on one elbow. "Son? Is there something here I ought to
know about?"

I nodded slowly. Well, I'd asked for it and here it was. "I guess maybe two
things," I said. "You probably know both of them but you haven't really
thought them through. I... I've done my share of squatting in front of
guys, maybe not as much as those guys on the ship but enough to know I like
doing it." How to say the other? In the end I just blurted it out "The
other thing is that I love you."

He sighed and rolled his eyes up in his head. "I guess I did know it. I
just didn't put it together until I was describing those sailors, hanging
around the showers just the way you used to walk in the bathroom to brush
your teeth, all the time watching me in the mirror. And always going to the
men's room with me the way you did, watching me again."

He waited a minute, still looking me in the eye and then he sighed. "Well,
then, so be it. If it makes you happy I guess I can't argue with it." There
was another long pause while we both tried to think of something else to
say. Finally he did: "Tell me something though. If you like doin' it so
much, do you like it the other way too? I mean do you like another guy
sucking your dick?"

I reached out and put my hand on his belly, over the broad line of hair
that connected the tangle on his chest with the thick patch at this
crotch. "Of course I do. I guess probably every man in the world likes to
get his cock sucked. I mean, look at you."

He laughed and didn't push my hand away. "Yes, there is that. Now, let me
see if I have this right. You are a happy cocksucker. And you love me. I
gather from your tone that what you mean is you love me in ways that other
sons probably don't love their fathers."

I nodded and let my hand move a couple of inches lower on his belly. He
still didn't move it away, he just looked at me for a long time, as though
he was memorizing my face. Then he broke into a grin and pushed my hand
another couple of inches down that line of fur it was resting on. "I
suppose then, if I add this all up -- and throw in the present placement of
your hand, it means you want to get down there between my legs and blow me,
just like those guys on the fantail of the ship did."

Oh, yes sir, that's exactly what I want. "Not quite. Those guys were
blowing you for the sake of sucking a cock. I want to blow you because
you're my dad and I love you." I actually said that, just that way.

"Being your dad I should tell you to forget the whole thing. I should tell
you I couldn't ever let my son do anything like that and tell you that I
find the whole idea extremely distasteful." He stopped and looked at me for
a long time. "But the truth is, I don't find it distasteful at all, I find
it very exciting."

I let my hand move down another few inches, just to the place where his
hair began to spread out again. "The truth is," he went on, still looking
me in the eye, "that I've always liked it when you came bursting into the
bathroom to look at me. I liked it when you watched me pee, too. So. That's
it." He moved my hand again, so that it rested against the base of his
cock.

His pubic hair was a surprise. Most guys have wiry hair around their cocks
but my dad's was soft as corn silk and seemed almost as long. I leaned out,
kissed him on the cheek and worked my way under the covers.

"You don't have to do it that way, son," dad said pushing the covers off us
"I think that ol' wood stove has warmed the place up pretty well.". He
pulled himself up and leaned back against the pillows, "Now you have some
room. And I have space to watch."

I kneeled in between his legs, looking down at the one cock in the world
that I wanted to possess. I'd never seen it really hard before and it was
bigger than I expected, thick, but not as long as some I'd seen. The head
was wedge shaped and the skin across it was dark pink and had a kind of
crackle finish to it. The pee slit was very wide and surrounded with a
darker pink skin. On the under side, just below the pee slit was a big wad
of skin, lighter than what covered the shaft and I could just see the scar
where he'd been circumcised.

His balls were big too, the sack tucked tight into his crotch and covered
with a growth of long, silky hair. When I touched it he made a little sound
and the hairs raised up, like goose flesh. I took hold of his cock, my
finger kneading that wad of skin, and bent down to run my tongue over his
balls and then suck one into my mouth. When I nipped at his ball sack dad
groaned and said, "Careful, son. Too much of that and you might miss the
main event."

I looked up at him, grinned, and dropped my mouth over his cock, all the
way down until my nose was buried in silky hair. Dad sucked in his breath
and put his hands on my head, tousling my hair, letting me know he wanted
me to stay just where I was. I did until things began to go dark and I had
to pull up to get some air. I took a couple of deep breaths and then went
back, this time working my throat muscles on his cock, like I was trying to
swallow it.

Dad rubbed the back of my neck for a moment and then eased me up until just
the head of his cock was still in my mouth. "Do you think we could take
this a little slower?" he asked. "You've got me almost ready to pop doing
that and... well, I'd like it to last a little longer. If you don't mind."

I grinned at him and moved up his body until our cocks were lying next to
each other and I was looking him in the face. "We can take it as slow as
you like, dad," I said, rubbing my chest against his and reveling in the
feel of his wiry hair. I moved down just a little and rooted around in the
hair until I found a nipple. It was already erect and when I put my mouth
over it dad put his hands on my head and held me tight against it, letting
me know how much he liked what I was doing. I sucked and tongued his nipple
and then nipped at it lightly. When I did that dad sucked in air and
whispered, "Oh, yes. Please." I stayed, nipping harder and harder until I
sensed he was just on the edge of pain. Then I eased off and moved to the
other one.

When I felt his cock flex against me I took it as a sign and moved back
down so I could take it in my mouth again. I took it easy this time, slowly
going down on him and pausing a lot, staying absolutely still, so he could
back off a little. After a while I let him rest, holding just his cockhead
in my mouth and not even letting my tongue touch that sensitive bundle of
skin. When he seemed really backed off I stuck my finger in my mouth,
sliding it along the length of his dick until it was really slick with
saliva. Then, all at the same time, I took his cock all the way into my
throat and started swallowing on it while I shoved my slick finger up his
ass. When I began to massage that soft little nut you can only get at from
the asshole dad went berserk.

He threw himself all over the bed shouting "Oh shit, oh shit" (a word I had
seldom ever heard him use) and folded himself over me, wedging my head
tight into his crotch. Then, almost as an after thought, he began to spasm
and pump cum down my throat. It wasn't an after thought though, because
once he started it was like he couldn't stop. His cock just kept pulsing
and shooting down my throat while he thrashed around and shouted. I finally
managed to pull up on him a little, mostly so I could breath but partly so
I could taste what he was spraying out into my mouth. It was bittersweet
and a little salty and there was a whole lot of it.

Then, just in case there wasn't enough going on, I found myself teetering
on the brink of my own orgasm. Dad, I don't think on purpose, grabbed hold
of my cock for a moment and that knocked me over. I came, and since he had
my head wedged between his thighs I shot off all over his balls and almost
blacked out from the pleasure of it.

It took a while but we finally caught our breath and calmed down enough to
find an old towel to clean up with. Dad threw a couple more logs in the
stove which I took to be a sign that I might get to do it all over
again. When he got back on the bed he looked at me with an odd, almost
embarrassed expression.

"Sorry about that reaction," he said, "but I've never, ever, in my life
come like that. Where did you learn that trick with the finger? I've never
felt anything like it."

I laughed and snuggled up close to him. "That's because you don't fool
around with guys. If you did you'd learn lots of little tricks like that."

He gave me a long look. "Son, you gotta know I really don't want to fool
around with guys. I'm perfectly happy with myself just the way I am." I
guess he saw something in my face because he reached out and touched my
cheek. "What I mean is, I'm not going to change who I bed with. I have
several very pleasing people I very much like sleeping with and they just
happen to be women. But then there's you and God help me, I don't quite
know what to do about you."

We were silent for a long while, staring at the walls but seeing only our
own thoughts. Finally he said, "What I'm saying is, deep down in my heart I
know that -- no matter how much I might love you -- I could never do to you
what you just did to me. I simply couldn't. So. There we are. Now, even
discounting the fact that I'm your father -- where does that leave you?"

I ran my fingers across his chest, catching them in the rough curls. "It
leaves me right where I've always been. Look, Dad, I never even dreamed I'd
actually get to do what we just did and I certainly never dreamed that
you'd do it back. Sure, every man loves a blow-job but hell, there are lots
of blow-jobs around. All I really want from you is love." I smiled at him,
"Well, that and the chance to help you out sometimes when you're horny and
there's no one else around. That's all."

He put his hand over mine and helped me find his nipple. "You sure about
that? Everything like it always was except now sometimes you'll... take
care of me?"

I gently rolled his nipple in my fingers. "That's the deal dad. And it's
more than I ever could have hoped for. And as to helping you out, as you so
delicately put it: any time, any where, any way you want it." I nuzzled my
face against his chest and found the other nipple with my mouth. When I
nipped at it he clasped his hands over my head and showed me just where to
lick and how hard to bite. It turned out he liked it harder than I'd
thought, maybe just a tad over the pain line.

His balls were the same way. He liked having them squeezed and pulled on. I
did that until suddenly he arched his back and groaned, his body shuddering
with pleasure. His cock jerked around, too, but he didn't ejaculate. When
it was over and he was still again he pulled me up so I was lying along his
body. "That happens once in a while," he said, stroking my hair. "It's like
coming only dry and you don't go soft afterwards. You're still ready to
go."

I sat up across his hips, feeling the bulk of his cock between my buns. He
looked at me for a long time, flexing his cock in a slow rhythm. I flexed
my ass in counterpoint and touched his nipples again. Finally he said,
"Could we do that too? I mean, could you take..." His voice trailed off,
not sure how to ask the question.

"Could I take you up my ass?" I flexed on his cock again. "I don't
know. That's an awfully big cock."

"Just like yours," he said, looking at my cock, probably for the first time
in his life. "In fact, I'll bet they'd be identical if you were cut like
me."

I slid back on him until his cock was standing up in front of me. Then I
pulled my foreskin all the way back, exposing the head, and moved up on him
a little, so I could hold them together, side by side. "They would be,
wouldn't they? But they should be. After all, look where I got mine." I
began stroking the two of them with one hand, holding them tight against
each other. "And by the way, thanks for saving my skin."

I let go of the two cocks and went down on his, working it in and out of my
throat until my saliva ran thick. Then I pulled off, slicked myself up and
positioned myself over his cock, just letting it touch my ass.

"You sure?" he asked.

I nodded and very slowly increased the pressure against my ass until I
began to open for him. He was awfully thick and it took me a few moments to
accommodate him. I smiled to myself, thinking about the guys I'd done this
to and how it always took a few minutes before they were comfortable with
it. Now I knew why.

When I began to sink down on him he closed his eyes and made some low
noises in his throat. When I hit bottom and was sitting in that long, silky
hair he opened his eyes and said, "You're a very handsome man, son. It's no
wonder the guys go for you." Then he closed his eyes again and began to
push up into me.

It occurred to me that he might not be all that comfortable looking at a
hard cock jutting out of the person he was fucking so I rotated myself
around and rolled us over, so he was lying on my back. I adjusted my cock
under me and then raised my hands over my head in the position of
submission. He forced my legs further apart with his and then he began to
stroke his cock in my ass.

He was slow and gentle, using long, lazy strokes which drove me wild and
obviously brought him great pleasure. He began talking to me, whispering in
my ear, telling me how it felt to him. He said things like `God I love
fucking you' and `my dick is tingling all over, like there's electricity
flowing all over it' and `you have the tightest ass I've ever been in' and
`thank you'. He even called me `son' once and said he loved me.

Every once in a while he'd stop for a moment and then pull out until just
the head of his cock was still inside me. Then he would pull out a little
more, just enough so that the flare of his cock-head popped through my
sphincter. Then he would drive it back in but only enough so he could do it
again. Every time he did that my orgasm came a notch closer. His too, I
guess, because he could only do it three or four times before he'd have to
push all the way in and rest for a while. All the time he was doing this he
was telling me how it felt, how he liked pushing in through my tight muscle
and how that wad of skin on his dick sent jolts of fire through him every
time I clamped down on it as he pushed back in.

He worked his hands under me and found my nipples with his fingers. "You
like that as much as I do, don't you?" he whispered in my ear. I could only
groan my appreciation.

And then it was all over. He said so, and began fucking me for all he was
worth. Then he stopped and said `I love you' again and shot a load of cum
that I could actually feel inside me. It was all over for me, too, and I
came right along with him, squirting my cum into the bed underneath me and
shaking with the pleasure of it all.

When he finished, and it took a long time before his cock quit pulsing up
inside me, he slowly withdrew and turned on his back, putting his arms
around me and pulling me up against him. "That was quite a fuck," he said,
tilting my chin so he could look in my eyes. Then, very gently, he kissed
me on the mouth.

* * *

On the way home we talked a lot and decided, mostly for his sake, that we
would have to live two lives. We'd buy the cabin and keep it a place just
for ourselves, no guests, no visitors. There we could sleep together, play
together and be whatever kind of lovers we were going to be -- together.

In town we would be father and son -- just like we'd always been. Even to
the crazy son sometimes walking in on dad getting out of the shower and
always following him to the men's room, whether he had to pee or not.

It's turned out to be a very good life.


Taking Care of Dad
By Greg Bowden
Jg.ps@gte.net