Date: Sun, 2 Jun 2013 02:09:23 +0200 (CEST)
From: Patrick Summers <p.summers@web.de>
Subject: Taking Sammy part 1

A/N: This story depicts the relationship between a father and his 10 y/o
son, but there is a very short het sex scene in it. You're hereby warned,
so on to the story!


I'd been depressed ever since my wife had died.

It had come sudden and unexpected, and I'd never had the chance to say
goodbye to her.  She'd died of complications during the removal of her
appendix; her heart'd just stopped and there was nothing the doctors could
do.

Her loss hit me hard. I'd loved her very much, even though sexual desire
had little to do with that love. I'd been a pedophile as long as I could
think, had never desired anything else but small kids. My strong morals and
sense of right and wrong had kept me from acting on those impulses my whole
life, which as a result made me practically an eunuch.

I was unable to get it up at all except when fantasizing about children in
a sexual way, and so I'd chosen to be celibate.

When I met Clara, I found a kindred soul. She considered herself to be
asexual, had no sex drive whatsoever, and she was fascinated with my
patient acceptance of her boundaries. I courted her for over two years
before she finally agreed to marry me.

For three years we lived as husband and wife, never had any sexual
relations with each other, and we were deliriously happy. When Clara
decided that it was time for a child, I balked. I had told her about my
problem a long time ago, but she waved away my concerns.

"It'll be different with your own child," she used to say as she took her
temperature and counted the days of her cycle.

We had sex once.

She'd bought me a magazine called "Jailbait" and had taken nude pictures of
her 7 year- old niece Cindy and the 9 year-old neighbor boy as they paraded
round the garden on a hot summer day. I'd been at work at the time, the
only reason that Clara let the kids come over to our place.

Clara handed me the pictures and a tube of lube without meeting my
eyes. "Don't make yourself come," she murmured. "I'll be in the bedroom."

I masturbated furiously to the pictures of little Billy Myer prancing
around in his birthday suit. He wasn't the most beautiful of boys, but he
had a habit of playing with his soft little dick that had me hard and
leaking in no time.

I huffed as I pumped my hand up and down my cock, staring at the small,
naked body, imagining what it would be like to touch him like he was
touching himself.

I barely made it to the bedroom in time. Clara was kneeling on the bed, her
naked ass spread in the air, displaying herself for me. She was hiding her
face in her crossed arms and I felt a twinge of regret at this being so
hard on her, but my desire to mate overwhelmed me.

There was no time for foreplay or gentleness. I jumped on the bed, grabbed
her hips and practically rammed my throbbing cock into her. She keened in a
combination of pain and mortification as I shoved into her deep, ripping
her virginity away ruthlessly.

I rutted into her soft depths, imagining it being Billy Myer's young ass,
and even before I completed my fifth stroke into her, I came hard. My balls
contracted, sending out volleys of potent seed into my wife's fertile womb.

I moaned out loud, humping deeper as my cock quivered out shot after
shot. I was making a child here, my own little boy or girl!

In that moment I knew that Clara had been right. Already I loved this
unknown child unconditionally, and I'd do everything in my power to keep it
from harm. Even if that meant protecting it from myself.

Two weeks later, Clara took a pregnancy test. It was positive.

* * * *

Sammy was 10 when Clara died. He wasn't a baby anymore, but he was still
young enough to not be able to understand what it meant to suddenly be a
half-orphan, and my depression wasn't making things any easier on him.

I barely got out of bed each day. I listlessly prepared Sammy's lunch and
drove him to school. I let him eat ice-cream only after finishing his
veggies and sent him to bed at half past nine. I went to work and did my
accounting without really trying, coming home to make Sammy take a bath and
pack his school bag for the next day.

I did everything that needed to be done, but there was no real drive behind
it, no love.  Mechanical parenting, I'd come to call it later. All real joy
was gone from my life and the peace and calm I'd found with Clara had given
way to a deep depression that slowly seeped all my strength from me,
leaving nothing for my son but an exhausted shell of a father.

Sammy did his best to cope alone, grieving the death of his mother in
silence and having to look after me as well a little more every day. I just
let it pass, barely talking at all, least of all to my small son and things
got ever worse.

Until one day, when Sammy ushered me into the living room as soon as I'd
gotten home from work. He had me sitting on the couch, took off my jacket
and shoes and plopped down on my lap before I could react. I'd never been
overly physical with him, too afraid to wake my dormant urges, leaving the
cuddling and kissing stuff to Clara. So I was very surprised to have him
act like sitting together like this was the most natural thing in the
world.

He'd just had his daily shower and his skin was still warm and a bit
damp. His auburn locks curled in light waves around his flawless
heart-shaped face. He was watching me with his innocent hazel eyes as if I
had the answers to everything.

"Uncle Mark told me about your problem," he said after a moment of silence.

A ball of ice settled in my stomach. "What problem?" I croaked, playing
innocent.

He gave a half-smile, looking so much like his mother that my heart
clenched. "The one where you can't have sex at all if not for looking at,
um."

"Little kids?" I finished laconically, resigning myself to this new turn of
events. If Mark had talked to my son, then the cat was out of the bag
already. Mark was the only other person I'd ever told about my
inclinations, and only after he'd confessed a similar problem to me.

For almost two years now, Mark had been regularly fucking his pre-teen twin
nephews and had obviously decided that I was to have the same pleasure with
my son.

"Um. Do you think I'm, um, sexy?"

I turned my attention back to Sammy, stunned by his question. I could only
nod, words stuck in my throat. I'd been trying hard not to react to his
warm weight on my upper thighs, the way he leaned against my chest
trustingly, smelling so very nice.

"Y'know," the 10-year-old murmured. "You could do stuff to me, just like
the things Uncle Mark is doing to Mel and Tony. They really like it and,
um, I just, I don't."

He faltered, playing nervously with the hem of my shirt. To my
consternation, tears were slowly running down my small son's cheeks. I
didn't hesitate as I gathered him up and settled deeper into the couch,
snuggling my son to me. Sammy was clinging to me and it took a while before
he could finish what he'd started to say.

"I just," he sobbed finally, "I don't want to, to see you sad anymore,
Dad."

"Oh, baby," I whispered, burying my face in his sweet-smelling soft hair,
already feeling my groin stir. "You don't have to do this. I'll get over
it, somehow I will, Sammy, and I don't want to hurt you like I'd have to."

He looked up, resolve lighting up his angular face. "I'm not scared of a
little pain, daddy, not if it helps you."

I groaned as images of him assaulted me, images of all the forbidden things
I could do to my son, the way he would satisfy me.. With a force of will
that I didn't know I possessed, I pulled myself back from the brink of
giving in.

"That is not the kind of pain I'm talking about, Sammy," I said as gently
as I could, wiping away his tears. "These things, you shouldn't even think
about them yet, no matter what Uncle Mark told you. You're a kid, it's not
your responsibility to look after me. It's the other way around, baby."

"But," Sammy said, pressing his face into the crook of my neck, his warm
breath hitting my skin and sending shivers through me. "I love you,
daddy. And Mark said it's fun, and so did the twins. They showed me a
little."

"Oh?" I breathed, my heart pounding at the thought of my twin nephews
teaching Sammy.

"Yeah. Like, how when you touch yourself down there it gets stiff and it
tingles, Dad. It feels really good."

I was moving restlessly underneath my son's warm weight as I listened to
him, my cock straining against the confines of my jeans. "I know it does,"
I tried once again to stop this.  "And it's okay to do it with them, or on
your own. But I'm an adult and it wouldn't be right for us to touch each
other like that."

"Mark says it will feel right," Sammy argued, resettling himself so that
his little bum was pressing into my cock.

I bit back a moan, shuddering a little. "It's wrong!" I groaned,
desperately torn between desire and morals, between the heavy throbbing in
my crotch and the pure love I had for my young son.

He made the decision for me, right then and there, reaching for the thick
bulge in my pants. I gasped as his small hand pressed down on my throbbing
cock through layers of fabric, the determined and curious expression on his
face as much a turn-on as the hesitancy in his grasp. It spoke of
inexperience and innocence about to be defiled and I had never been more
turned on in my entire life.

"Mike said you'd show me your love down there, that it'd grow and make
stuff for me if I was nice to it. Do you want me to be nice to you, Daddy?"

"Yes, baby," I moaned as slick filled my boxers in hot spurts. "But you
shouldn't have to."  "It's warm," Sammy murmured in surprise as the wetness
seeped through my pants.

"Can I see it?"

My heart actually skipped a beat. "Sammy."

"Please, Daddy?"

And I had never been able to resist him, not when he was looking at me with
those big eyes. I set him on his feet and got up, sighing in relief as I
popped the buttons and got rid of my jeans and boxers in one go.

Sammy stared at me wordlessly, my cock bobbing up and down, wet and
dark-red at the tip, fully hard and raring to go. When he reached for it I
let him, condemning myself to a very special hell but unable to pull back
now.

"It's big," Sammy breathed and I hissed as his fingers dipped into the
slick dripping from my slit and stroked over the sensitive place directly
under it.

He rubbed his fingers together curiously and sniffed at the clear
pre-cum. "What is that?"

"That's my love for you," I told him.

"That's what Uncle Mike's been talking about!" He said excitedly and
unceremoniously popped his wet fingers into his mouth. "Oh," he mumbled
around them. "It's salty, but I really like it, Daddy. Make more for me!"

I had to smile at that. There he was again, my irrepressible, and fairly
spoiled, little son.  Gone was the timid boy of earlier and I was glad for
it.

"That's your job now, remember?" I said gently.

"Oh, yeah!" he exclaimed and just like that, he wrapped both of his little
hands around my cock and began to stroke it.

I couldn't bite back a startled curse as I watched him pleasure me, going
back and forth on my throbbing length a little clumsily. His hands were
soft and unmistakably that of a child. It felt so good that I was panting
with it, and only after a few strokes I moaned as another spurt of pre
burst forth.

Sammy didn't miss a beat, he just gathered up the sticky drops and licked
them off his hands. "Hhm," he hummed, sounding for all the world like he
was eating ice-cream. I tried to get myself under control but I was already
so close. Heat was sizzling at the base of my spine and my cock burned.

"Sammy," I murmured, burying one hand into his soft hair and splaying the
other on his chest. I could feel his heart beating frantically and I was
glad that he seemed as affected as I was by this new development. "If you
like my love-juice so much, why don't you lick it right off?"

"Oh, can I?" He sounded excited.

My cock gave a jump and Sammy giggled. "Yeah, sure," I croaked and
maneuvered him so that he was kneeling on the couch. That put him at the
perfect height as I came to stand before him, my cock hovering in front of
his face.

He grabbed hold of me again and before I could instruct him, his little
tongue shot out and flicked over my sensitive tip, prompting my eyes to
roll back into my head.

"Yeah," I breathed as my son's tongue roamed over me and gathered up every
drop of pre-cum. My nerve-endings felt like they were on fire and my balls
began to slowly contract as I got closer and closer, the build-up promising
it to be a whopper.

"It's all gone now," Sammy complained after too short a time of maddening
little touches and soft licks.

"There's more," I panted, "but you need to suck it out of me."

Looking up at me doubtfully, Sammy hesitated. "Suck on that? Will it even
fit?"

"Yes. Just," I moaned, "just put your lips around it, baby and hollow your
cheeks. You said you wanted to be nice to me, right?"

Sammy nodded and, visibly steeling himself, he leaned in, pink lips pursed,
shining wetly from spit and my love-slime.

I will never forget the moment his mouth touched my cock for the first
time. I groaned out loud as velvet softness began to wrap around my helmet
and the unbelievable heat almost drove me insane. At the first clumsy suck
my little son gave me, I totally lost it.  Hunching over him, I groaned and
let the orgasm overtake me. I shot in his mouth, three, four, five times,
moaning at the heated pulses of pure ecstasy.

Sammy grunted as the first blast filled his little mouth, trying in vain to
swallow everything down. He was frowning, probably at the taste, but I was
too far gone to pull out and just kept shooting away. It felt like I was
coming forever, the last few pulses mostly dry but they felt so fucking
good that I couldn't stop moaning ecstatically.

When I stepped back at last, breathing hard and cock drooping, I collapsed
onto the couch and pulled Sammy into my arms. "Thank you," I whispered into
his ear, pressing soft kisses to his forehead and temple.

Sammy wiped his mouth with his sleeve and shot me a quick smile. "Didn't
really think it'd work," he admitted, voice soft. "I wasn't sure you love
me enough to want to do this stuff with me.

Stunned, I reached down and took his face between my hands. I dwarfed him,
but he looked up at me so trustingly that the breath stuck in my throat. "I
love you very much, Sammy," I said when I found my voice again. "All I
wanted was to protect you, and for you to have a normal childhood."

"I love you too, Daddy," he said, accepting what I'd said but not the
explanation for my former distance. I was going to have to show him that
those times were over. I hadn't touched my son yet, not in the way he so
obviously wanted and I couldn't wait to do so.



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