Date: Sun, 15 Nov 2015 23:23:21 +0000 (UTC) From: Jerlar Subject: The Carney Men This story is purely a work of fiction. Any resemblance to person's living or dead, or to events that may have occurred, is purely coincidental. The author claims all copyrights to this story and no duplication or publication of this story is allowed, except by the web sites to which it has been posted, without the consent of the author. All of us enjoy the stories here, so please, support Nifty. Like any other Business, it takes resources to keep it running. I appreciate you, and I know Nifty appreciates your support! Well, readers, what can I way. While I was waiting to post a new chapter of For Pete's Sake, I was already meeting new characters. Here is the first chapter of The Carney Men. I hope you enjoy it. And, as always, please, please, donate to Nifty. This is a great site, and I feel lucky to be associated with it. Like any other business, Nifty requires money to operate as well. Please give as you can. I appreciate it and I know Nifty does as well. Mark Stevens THE CARNEY MEN CHAPTER ONE Phillip Carney stood in the doorway of his home and watched as his father backed out into the street. When the man's car had disappeared from sight, Phillip closed the door and turned to discover his wife standing behind him. "Do you think your father's going to be all right?" his wife, Sandra, asked. Phillip's mother, Edith Carney, had suddenly died, and her funeral had been the previous day. "I don't know," Phillip answered. "I hope so. She was Dad's life." "They were married fifty-four years," Sandra reminded. Phillip shrugged his shoulders. "We've been married thirty-six." "What are you trying to say, Phil?" "Just that. We've been married thirty-six years." Phillip walked past his wife and went into the kitchen. He grabbed a beer from the refrigerator and walked into the den. Sandra joined him and took a seat on the couch. "You're not happy, are you?" Phillip took a drink and enjoyed the cold as it made its way slowly down his throat. "Why should I be happy?" "Are you saying that I make you unhappy?" "I'm not the one who pulled away." Phillip took another drink. "Do you want a divorce, Sandra?" "Why would you ask me something like that?" "I don't know; why would I? Maybe because you're so damned loving these days. How the hell should I know?" The room was filled with silence for a time. Sandra remained on the couch, and Phillip finished his beer. He sat the bottle on the table beside his chair and leaned back with his eyes closed. Sandra had him completely baffled these days, and right now, with everything else going on in his life, he didn't want to deal with the situation between the two of them; if it was even a situation. Phillip was completely worn out. He was exhausted from everything that had taken place since the moment he had found out about his mother's unexpected death. Edith Carney had been very active her entire life. Even at seventy-two, the woman was still going strong. Phillip's thoughts came to a halt as sleep gradually over took him. He suddenly opened his eyes. Someone had called his name. Sandra was standing by his chair holding the telephone. "Your dad," she explained. "He sounds upset." She handed Phillip the telephone. "Hey, Dad," Phillip said looking at the clock on the wall above the fireplace. He had been sleeping for over two hours. "Dad, I can't understand you. Can you repeat it?" No matter how hard he tried, Phillip couldn't understand his father. The man kept running his words together. Finally Phillip was able to catch, "I don't think I can make it without her." "I know it's going to be hard, Dad." To himself, Phillip was thinking, "God, I don't know if I can handle it myself." Aloud he added, "We'll be here for you, Dad. It's going to take adjusting on us all." Sandra made a motion, getting her husband's attention. "Hang on a minute, Dad." Phillip covered the mouth piece with his hand and looked at his wife. "Phil, if your father needs you, please, know that I am okay with you going to him. I think he needs to be with you." It was on the tip of Phillip's tongue to say, "Since you don't need me, you mean?" Instead he gave her a nod with his head and spoke to his father once more. "Dad, I'm coming over. I should be there in half an hour or so." Phillip disconnected the call and stood to his feet. He told Sandra he'd pack some things and spend the night with his father. "You are a good son," Sandra praised following him down the hall to the guest room. The two of them had not slept in the same bed for the past two years. "Just not a good husband, I guess." Phillip pulled a bag from a closet in the room and began throwing things inside. "No comment on that, I take it," he said when Sandra didn't respond to his remark. "What can I say, Phil? Things change. People change. It's not anyone's fault." Phillip finished packing. He zipped the bag and left the room. When he reached the kitchen, he stopped at the door that led to the garage. "If you need anything, give me a call," he said opening the door. "When are you coming home?" Sandra asked. "Depends, I suppose. I'm off the next couple of days. I'll see how things go with Dad." Sandra gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Stay as long as he needs you." Phillip took his bag by the strap and walked out to the car. He threw it on the car seat beside him and pushed the garage door opener attached on the visor above his head. He slowly backed out into the street and headed for his father's home. A twenty mile trip lay between the two houses. When Phillip pulled into his dad's driveway, he reached for his bag and hurried up to the door. He let himself in with a key. "Dad?" he called out closing the door behind him. "In here," Douglas Carney called. `In here' turned out to be the living room, which was at the back of the house. Phillip dropped his bag to the floor and walked into the room. He found his father sitting in his recliner. He walked over and gave the man's shoulder a squeeze. "I'm sorry to be such a bother," his dad said. "You're no bother, Dad. I want to be here for you." "You've always been here, Son. For both your mother and me," he added with a sob. I think I'll be alright," Douglas said. He cleared his throat and added, "You need to go home and be with Sandra." "Dad, I'm here for you. Sandra is fine. In fact, it was her idea that I spend the night with you." "She is a good person. You do know that, don't you, Phil?" Phillip felt his throat tighten up. He forced words out. "She is." "Is everything all right between the two of you?" Caught by surprise, Phillip asked, "Why would you ask that, Dad?" "Just a feeling I have." "Right now, this is all about you. Sandra's okay; I'm okay." Phillip told his dad he was going to take his bag to the guest room. As he headed down the hall, he called over his shoulder, "I'm going to get comfortable, Dad. It's been a long day." The room where he intended on sleeping was directly across from his dad's bedroom. Phillip thought that a good thing. He would be nearby if his father needed him. Phillip jumped out of his jeans and pulled his shirt off. He soon returned to the living room wearing just his boxer shorts. His father was still sitting in his recliner. "You wouldn't happen to have a beer in the refrigerator, would you, Dad?" "I believe there is. Help yourself. Bring me one, too." Philip returned with two drinks. He handed one to his father. "I'm sorry to be such a nuisance," Douglas said. "You're not being a nuisance," Phillip answered. "I'm glad I can be here for you." "I do appreciate it." The older man took a drink from the bottle he was holding. Phillip took a big swallow, allowing the cold liquid to travel slowly down his throat. "How old are you, Phil?" his dad asked. "Fifty-three," Phillip said giving a shrug. "What does that make Donnie?" Donnie was Phillip and Sandra's son. "Don's thirty-five," Phillip replied after giving the question some thought. "Damn, that doesn't seem possible," Douglas said shaking his head. "But you have no problem believing that I'm fifty-three?" Phillip grinned at the man. "I must say, you don't look fifty-three." "If that was a compliment, then thanks, Dad." Phillip drained his bottle and stood to his feet. "I think I'm going to have one more. How about you?" "I'm good, Phil," Douglas answered. Phillip went into the kitchen and soon returned with another beer. He told his dad he would replenish his stock the next day. They visited another hour or so, both men recalling the many memories they had shared over the years. Finally Douglas stood to his feet and announced he thought he was ready for bed. Phillip also stood up. "Sounds good to me." He followed his dad down the hall. When he reached the doorway to his bedroom, Douglas said, "I forgot to turn the lights out. I'll see you in the morning, Son." Phillip put his hands on the man's shoulder and said, "You head on to bed, Dad. I'll take care of it." "Thanks, Phil. I'm really glad you are here." Phillip gave the man a hug. "I'm glad I am, too. I love you, Dad." "Love you, Son." Douglas went into his bedroom, and Phillip took care of the lights. He soon returned to his room. He told his dad goodnight once more and crawled into the bed. Phillip's body was tired, but his mind refused to slow down. The events of the past few days began drifting across his brain. He still had a hard time believing his mother was actually gone. The woman had always been the picture of perfect health. Phillip could not even remember a time when she had been sick. That's why it had been such a shock when his dad had called to say she was gone. Edith Carney had simply gone to sleep that night and didn't wake up the next morning. Thinking about it now, Phillip thought perhaps that was the way to go. At least she had been happy and content right up to the very last moment on earth. The thoughts began to slow down, yet Phillip couldn't seem to find sleep. He tossed from side to side for a time, sleep refusing to come to him. Phillip suddenly sat up in bed. He had heard something. He took a breath and held it; and listened. Was the sound coming from his father's room? He took another breath and listened. Phillip crawled out of bed and walked out into the hall. He stopped when he reached his father's bedroom door. Was his dad crying? Phillip stepped silently into the room. The sound was coming from the man's bed. Douglas was sobbing, and it nearly broke Phillip's heart. He hurried to the side of his father's bed. "Dad?" "I'm sorry, Son. I didn't mean to wake you." A sob followed the man's words. Phillip sat on the side of the bed and reached to give his dad a hug. The movement caused the sheet to fall away from Douglas' body. It gave Phillip a shock as he realized the man was naked. Phillip found himself pulling away from his father. "I'm sorry, Dad." Douglas apologized and reached for the sheet. "Didn't mean to embarrass you. I've slept this way most of my life. I climbed into bed, not giving it a second thought." "Hell, Dad, you've nothing to be ashamed of. It's your house, and you can do as you please." "I could use that hug you were about to give me," Douglas reminded his son. "Of course, Dad." Phillip leaned over and pulled his father to him once more. As before, the sheet pulled away, but neither man mentioned the fact. Holding his dad close, Phillip was surprised at how warm the man's body felt. For some reason, he was comforted by his dad's touch. Still holding the man, Phillip's eyes focused on his father's back. Phillip was surprised when he didn't look away. Suddenly he was aware of the man's chest. Phillip pulled away and looked at it. Douglas had a hairy chest. The hair was mostly brown, with not much gray at all. "What are you looking at?" his father asked. Feeling as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Phillip felt his face turn red. "I guess I was marveling at the fact you don't have very much gray hair." Phillip looked at his own chest and realized his chest hair was almost identical to his dad's. "Well, it looks as if you are going to be the same way," Douglas pointed out. "I don't have hardly any gray hair anywhere." Phillip had another shock when his father leaned back and looked down his body. "Not even any gray here," he said pointing to his pubes. Phillip found himself looking down his father's body. His dad was right. There was no sign of any gray running through the brown curls that grew thickly around Douglas' dick. His dad's dick. My God, was he actually looking at his father's cock? Yes, he was. Although he didn't make mention of the fact, Phillip thought the man had a really nice looking dick. It definitely didn't look as if it would be attached to a seventy-two year old man. "I see," Phillip replied. Douglas gave his son another hug. "It's getting late," he said. "We should get some sleep." Phillip returned his father's hug, and when he did, he had another shock. When he felt his dad's body pressed against him, Phillip felt his dick jerk, pulling some of his pubic hair with it. He broke away and stood to his feet. "Night, Dad. Try and get some sleep." "Night, Son." Phillip returned to his room and crawled back into his bed once more. He pulled the sheet over his body and tried to find sleep. However, when he closed his eyes, the memory of his Dad's body returned to him. He reached inside his boxers and felt his cock. He was hard. What the hell was that all about? The longer he thought about it, Phillip tried to convince himself it wasn't his father's body that had excited him; in fact, he was sure it was because he hadn't jacked off in several days. It had been several years since he and Sandra had had sex. His only relief had been self-inflected. And he hadn't even done that since his mother's death. Phillip pulled his shorts down past his knees and began stroking his cock; slowly at first. As he continued jacking, Phillip ran his fingers through his thick chest hair. He loved feeling the curly hair against his skin. Phillip picked up speed and began stroking his dick faster. His other hand went to his bush and played in the thick hair that grew wide-spread around his thick shaft. The last shock of the day came to Phillip just as he shot into a Kleenex tissue. Along with the first rope of cum that flew from his cock came the memory of how his dad's naked body had looked. Phillip squeezed the last of the cum from his cock and threw the sticky tissue into the trash basket beside the bed. He pulled his shorts up and rolled over on his side. The last thought he had before falling to sleep was, "What the fuck just happened?"