Date: Sat, 7 Sep 2013 17:58:28 -0700 (PDT) From: Dave Krenshaw Subject: The Taking of Son Billy's Cherry: Installment 1 The Taking of Son Billy's Cherry: Installment 1 by Dave Krenshaw For contact: davekrenshaw@yahoo.com If you are a minor, meaning you have not attained the age of majority, i.e.: "legal age", for the jurisdiction in which you reside, or material of this nature is illegal in the same, please close the window in which you are reading this disclaimer or as necessary, the computer browser you are using, immediately. This story is entirely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents portrayed in such work are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, that you yourself have knowledge of is entirely coincidental. All comments as to this story are greatly appreciated: Please send the same to me at: davekrenshaw@yahoo.com (Please put the title of this story in the subject line of your email, so that I will know that your email is not any type of commercial solicitation); and please be sure to state in your email if a reply from me is welcome. I am an intermediate school art teacher presently residing in Appalachian Spring Hillsdale Village, a condominium development nestled in a surburb of Charleston, South Carolina. I am originally from Philadelphia, Pennsylvania; and relocated here shortly after college graduation to get far away from the chaos of city life, not to mention the incessant insanity of my relations. Of course, when I first arrived here, I went through an adjustment period: For one thing, the quiet of the area, though calming and tranquil, took a bit of time to get used to; and that may be the understatement of the year. In addition, quite a few of the locals I soon enough discovered had their share of eccentricities. A major plus for me was that neighbors knew to respect the privacy of those living in proximity, at least in general. Anyhow, I am presently in my early fifties, six-feet-two-inches, about 187 pounds, and a bit on the muscular side still, with nicely-defined pecs nestled in a thickly hairy chest and with a treasure trail of hair extending from between my pecs all the way down to my pubic area. My name is Davey Robert James, though many of the locals here, as I am very active in the community, especially the local charity events, affectionately call me "Uncle Davey". With the exception of an unsettling divorce from my high school sweetheart about two years ago, life has been pretty much good for me to date. Now, I could, if I chose to, make excuses for my "beloved" until the cows gushed with milk, but the truth is that Thelma Anne never wanted the responsibility of children and only gave a crap about her beauty regimen and her socialite friends and her flamboyant career as a senior editor and corporate executive officer for a major national fashion magazine publication. Therefore, it certainly came as no shock to me, needless to say, when I, once all the ink was dry, so to speak, ended up with sole primary legal and physical custody of our only child, our son Billy, now already seventeen years of age. Billy is a straight-A student; and for the past year and a half has been a member of his high school's swim team. He is five-feet-seven inches in height, with light-brown hair and marine-blue eyes. Overall pretty slender, but he definitely has the sharply-defined pecs and muscular legs of a classic competive swimmer's build. He rarely ever gives me any trouble, though, now and then, he has gotten into a bit of mischief with his friends: As they say: "Boys will be boys." One day, about a week ago, I had just gotten home from work; and I was in a foul mood: The budget committee had just disapproved the requested funds allocation for my art class' upcoming mural project; and unless I could timely resolve the budget problem, my class would not be able to participate in the upcoming state school mural competition this spring. I figured I would just head right into the shower and literally cool off; and then, after a quick dinner with Billy, plop down into my favorite recliner in the den and watch a bit of television. On the way to the bathroom in my room, I passed by my son's room; and, to my surprise, discovered his door wide open. This is what I saw, as I stood quietly in the door way; and it took quite a few moments to take it all in: Billy, dressed in solely a tight jock strap, was standing in front of his closet door and facing the rear of the room. I could not tell at all just what he was fixated on, it was almost as if he was lost in thought or day-dreaming. I could not help but notice that he was really well-developed for his age and had hardly any body fat on him whatsoever, with the exception, that is, of these plush, plump mounds of flesh composing his buns. All I could think of was that my son was blessed with one really hot rear. I felt myself turning crimson while thinking this; and scurried away from the doorway and into my room. It sounds crazy, but I actually thought that I could just put everything out of my mind; and act like nothing ever happened. Soon enough, I was in the shower; and thoroughly enjoying the invigorating warmth of the shower spray and massage gadget. I found myself in moments thinking about about Billy and his remarkably smooth and plush-looking silky buns. It seemed almost as if in my mind all I could see was his porcelain-colored buns. I looked down while soaping up and saw that my cock, my eight-inch moderately thick cut cock, was at full attention. It sounds almost comical talking about it in this way, but the truth is that, at that moment, I was having a hard time grasping just what was happening. Suddenly, while I was casually soaping up my cock laying in my lathered fingers, I realized that I had these very strong feelings of lust with regard to my own son. I began vigorously caressing my ample-sized balls and gently stroking the full length of my shaft. The image in my mind now transformed to one of my cock snugly in place in between the seducing buns of my son. I pumped and pumped my majestic member with great passion, releasing one of the hugest loads against the shower wall tiles that I have ever released in my life. As the cascading water of the shower washed away my cum, I began to envision about making love to my son: I knew, after just a few seconds of soul-searching, that I wanted to be the one to take my innocent and probably gay son Billy's cherry.