Date: Wed, 16 Jan 2002 14:31:39 EST
From: Rod
Subject: Town Fathers (B/B, M/B, incest)

TOWN FATHERS

As Told To Richard Morrow


	1 -- Make A New Plan, Stan

	 My parents, the well-respected Mr. and Mrs. Mitchell Rivers of
Dover Springs, raised me and my younger brother in a church-going
environment, typical of so many midwestern and southern towns in the United
States.
	Living on the farm next to us were my Uncle Lyle, his wife Brenda
and their two young daughters. Several other families sprawled out nearby,
with most owning a few hundred acres. It was a wholesome time, with plenty
of hard work, community events and church picnics. So serene was life in
our town of Dover Springs, often billed as "The City With Character."
	But often I found myself anxious about things. I knew early on that
I wasn't like so many of the other boys and men around me. When I hit my
teenage years, I wondered why I felt so attracted to older men whenever I
saw one with his shirt off. When I gave in to the temptation of my own
growing cock, I'd fantasize that an older guy would strip in front of me to
let me explore his body while he explored mine.
	The changes I also saw in my friend's bodies as the guys went
through puberty excited the hell out of me. Voices deepened, dicks
lengthened and hairs sprung out to shadow their pits. I saw my friends
dating, many of them talking about future plans of marriage and children,
but I dated only for appearance at school events.
	Just about the time I started thinking about going through life
alone and without intimacy with another person, I became close friends with
a cute guy I'd known for several years around Dover Springs. We just hadn't
really gotten to know each other until we sat together in English class.
	With light brown hair and glimmering blue eyes, he sat my blood
racing. His name was Stan. Once we became close friends, we figured the
other out.
	After turning 18 and getting my own truck, Stan and I skipped class
one day and headed for the local swimming hole. We were lying on the edge
of the pond sunning ourselves when I just knew the moment was right. I
leaned over and brought my hand up to his bare belly. When he showed he was
receptive, I turned, kissed his cheek and then pressed my body into
his. Our mouths collapsed together. At first, Stan resisted my probing
tongue, but within seconds he opened his mouth and tongue danced with me.
We made out, with our lips meshing tight, our tongues exchanging wetness
and our desires lighting our lust. We were both needy, hungry and a little
sloppy about what we were doing. But nobody could deny the exchange of
passion and feeling.
	I kissed down Stan's body, slide his swimsuit off and fished for
his stiff cock. When my hand closed around it, Stan let out a swish of air
from deep within his lungs.
	It was all so real, yet not unlike the fantasies I had when
masturbating. I savored the feel of another man's cock in my hand. The
actual feel of another man's prick -- its meaty texture, the look of its
head, and the delicious hardness. Stan was nicely cut, at least six inches,
but certainly not oversized.  Tiny droplets of pre-cum leaked from his
slit. In a highly charged and eager state, I leaned down and took Stan's
wet dick into my mouth. I took his rigid pecker far into the inner crevices
of my throat.
	"Oh! Kirk, damn!" Stan groaned. I sucked hard at his excited
dick. I licked up and down the shaft, stopping to bury my pointed tongue
into its slit. "Oh Kirk, oh..." Stan continued to groan.
	Yes, it was my first time to go down on another guy, but I had
prepared for the act. For a short while, I lost control and ate Stan up. I
was a wolf hungry for virgin cock meat. Stan's outcrys assured me that I
was doing it right.
	I sucked all around the shaft, along its veins and around its
tailored rim. I drilled deep into the piss slit; and I nudged my friend's
nuts with my chin. I grooved the shaft as I suctioned his cockhead. I
charged Stan right in the very places that I knew I would want someone to
lick and suck and kiss and nip.
	Stan began to kick his heels into the dirt. He lifted his hips off
the ground. He cried, "Suck me Kirk, oh damn! I'm gonna come, I'm gonna
fuckin' come!"
	I felt his tight buttocks flex; I heard him moan down deep; and I
felt the cockhead belch its creamy sauce into the depths of my throat. I
massaged Stan's pumping balls, gently encouraging them to fire
away. Strands of thick cum bolted from Stan's cock and into the far reaches
of my throat. Knowing I was losing my oral virginity, I savored Stan's
warm, salty liquid. I would always remember it.
	When Stan finished blasting his juices, we both tried to relax, but
the cooling off was strained. My cock remained hard.  Stan reached down,
grabbed me and began to stroke on my elongated shaft. His fist felt
marvelous! I pushed my hips at him, and he began to fist my cock with great
repetition.
	A moan from deep within me told Stan that I was about to
shoot. Surprisingly, he reached over, grabbed my own hand, placed it on my
cock, and said, "Finish yourself for me. Let me watch it!"
  	With Stan making corkscrews of my pointed tits, I did indeed finish
myself off, shooting a long, powerful load up between us. He reached down
to massage the spills into both my belly and his. We smiled and exchanged a
kiss of great passion.
	Later, Stan became quite accomplished at jerking me off, and
finally after we had gotten together a few times, my virgin lover overcame
his inhibitions and dove down on my rigid cock. The first time I felt my
cock in another's man mouth, I thought I would never stop groaning.
	Stan and I made sure we met up with each other at least once a
week. But unlike our straight friends and their "babes" around Dover
Springs, Stan and I could not be seen together too often.  Regardless, our
relationship hit the local rumor mill after an incident one weekend when
Stan's parents were out of town. I spent the weekend with Stan, and we had
the best time of our relationship.
  	We were crazy with our sex. For example, we screwed on his parents'
bed. I felt Stan squirting off inside me while I stared at a framed picture
on the wall showing Stan's old man in his younger years. Bare chested and
in Army fatiques, Mr. Matras was gorgeous! Stan's old man in his younger
years with large pecs, a six-pack belly, perky tits and the outline of a
bulge. I studied him as I felt Stan flooding my ass.
	On another occasion, Stan caught up with me in his old man's
bathroom and sucked me off in his dad's shower. Later, I got turned on with
Stan running around in nothing more than a jock strap and eventually I
nailed his ass on the breakfast table in the morning room, no doubt right
where Mr. Matras had buttered his toast.
	Late one night, the two of us went skinny dipping in the backyard
pool. We played around in the water for a long time, kissing and caressing
each other. Finally, we edged ourselves out of the water and relaxed
together on a large lounger. Our naked bodies interwined.
	Liking the warmth of Stan's crotch next to mine, I began playing
with him, feeling his tight balls and curling his pubes between my
fingers. We were just on the verge of getting it on again when we both
heard the commotion. There was a gasp, laughter, the sound of a garbage can
hitting cement pavement and then the piercing sound of the word "run" given
as a command.
	Stan and I broke our embrace and reached for nearby towels. Our
intruders vanished before we made it to the corner of the fence. Once we
went back into the house, and before Stan could get either too upset or
paranoid, I backed him up against the kitchen counter and went down on
him. His cock extended down into the far reaches of my throat. I played
over his balls like piano keys. I caressed his pecs and squeezed his
nipples. He gushed wads of creamy cum on to my tongue.
	But about a week later, Stan called me upset and confused. He had
heard through the local grapevine that some people in Dover Springs were
talking about "Stan Matra and Lyle Rivers getting caught queering
together..."
	Stan and I wanted to continue our friendship and promised ourselves
that we would exercise maximum discretion before we ever screwed around
again. But, within the month, widespread rumors stopped Stan and I from
seeing each other. Stan's father and mother heard the rumor and approached
him. He denied it, saying he really felt like a victim.
	But Stan could tell his father wasn't caring if his son was feeling
like a victim, instead he wanted to make damn sure that the seed from his
plums was not a bad one. Or, so it seemed at the time.
	Ben Matra, Stan's good looking father, was the owner of the largest
insurance company in town. He knew a thing or two about squelching rumor,
and this time, he didn't need people thinking that his only son was
gay. "That kind of thing" just wasn't good for business in Dover Springs.
	Although there were only a few weeks left until graduation, Stan
started sitting in another seat in English class. We seldom spoke, and on a
social basis, I didn't see Stan for several months after that.

	2 -- Along Came Bobby C.

	I wasn't going to be too threatened by the gossip mill in our small
town.  The summer after I graduated from high school, just a couple of
months after Stan and I split up, I met a new guy who had moved to a place
in the country, not far from our spread.
	His mother had run off with a used car dealer in the last town,
leaving Bobby and his daddy alone. They moved to Dover Springs to avoid
embarrassment. Bobby's father was fairly poor and their two-bedroom house
lacked amenities.
	Bobby was a short, muscular guy. I was older than Bobby, but not by
much, he was also 18. Still, when I first met him, I really thought Bobby
looked three or four years younger. He had an adorably cute face, with dark
billowy cheeks, puffy lips, deep sunken eyes and a sparkling smile.
	Maybe I manipulated various situations, but I still found Bobby
receptive whenever I showed a special interest in him. One night I picked
him up and instead of going to a local hangout, I found a long, dark
road. Just as soon as I reached the back of a cornfield, just a few miles
outside the city limits, I pulled behind a large spreading tree and parked.
	We were in the middle of nowhere when I shut the engine down on my
pickup and turned the lights off, allowing the moonlight to cast its
shadows between Bobby and me.
	From a cooler behind our seats, I brought out a beer, popped its
lid and offered it to Bobby. We sat back and enjoyed the cool ones. We both
knew what was to happen; that charge was in the air between us. As we sat
sprawled in the truck, I extended my right hand and squeezed the muscle of
Bobby's left leg.
	He whisperd, "Move your hand up higher, Kirk. Let's both feel
better."
	Thrilled at Bobby's reception, I moved my hand to his crotch. The
anticipation fired sparks of sexual lust throughout my body as my
fingertips crawled across the newly discovered crotch. Bobby was rock
hard. His stubby dick begged for attention. I rubbed him gently through the
denim of his jeans. He moaned and pushed his ass around in the seat,
wanting me to do more.
	Within a few seconds, Bobby and I started clawing at each other. We
kissed and discovered, enjoying that wonderful first moment of getting to
know the look, feel and detail of another body. After a long while, we
finally got out of the truck to spread a blanket on the hard ground. We
stripped and made love into the night. We spent the night together, not
leaving our embraces until sunrise.
	"Damn, you have such a long, stiff club," Bobby said as he stroked
me to a cum that first time. I grabbed at his bubble ass as his hand beat
at my elongated shaft and his other warm hand played with my nuts.
	The kid squeezed a rush of hot friction up and down my hard cock. I
squirmed, spread my legs to give him full access and watched as he
manipulated the bubbled pre-cum from the head of my enormous shaft.
	"So looonnnggg and ready... ready Kirk, baby, are you ready to cum
for me?"
	"Yes, yes," I answered. My ass flexed, the slit of my cock parted
and my creamy sauce shot upwards.
	"That's it, babe. That's all of it," Bobby said caressing my
erupting balls and stroking my spitting cock. My juices spurted out on to
both of us and the blanket below. My cock quivered and quaked as Bobby
gripped it between his hot palm.
	"Oh Bobby C., Bobby C., my baby," I moaned. I hugged him to me.
	We kissed and Bobby said, "Nice, huh? Nice and hot!"
	Sweet Bobby Chandler made me forget all about Stan Matra. While
Stan sometimes seemed apprehensive about our relationship, Bobby wanted the
love and sex as much as I did. We kissed harder, deeper and longer than I
ever remembered with Stan.
	Bobby wasn't as smart as Stan and probably not as good looking, but
he was so much easier to be with and to enjoy. Yes, Stan had the bigger
dick, but what I most enjoyed about Bobby was that he was an aggressive
lover, always ready to caress me, to let me know his interests.
	For instance, right there that first night, Bobby rolled over on
his back, lifted his tight, round ass into the air, and invited me to screw
him. I did, twice! He knew a thing or two about screwing a cock, something
about which Stan didn't show a lot of interest.
	Bobby often admired my big dick, licking and sucking at it as
though he worshipped it. It was during our third tryst that I really
started noticing just how impressed Bobby was with the length of my
pecker. While I knew I was bigger than average, I'd also spotted several
other guys in the locker room who, at least from my viewpoint, seemed to
hang much lower. But Bobby Chandler was a babe at being able to make me
feel good about myself and letting me know how much he liked my cock.
	"Nice... so nice and long and hard, Kirk, baby," Bobby
whispered. "I wonder what it must feel like to have a shaft this damn
long," he said as he bent my rigid pecker up to flirt its head with the
indention of my belly button.
	 He massaged my balls, caressing them like a kid would finger a bag
of marbles. My cock raged its purple head. Juices dripped from its hole. My
breathing was heavy.
	Bobby leaned up to run his own erection up and down and around the
length of my dick. My juices greased both of us. My cock ached from the
intensity flowing through its veins.
	"Hold on, Kirk, baby... Hold on, my man," Bobby encouraged. Before
I could tell what he was doing, he reached around and brought out a
ruler. "I've got to see just how damn long this cock really is..." And
then, the cold edges of the ruler were placed against my cock.
	"Wow, oh wow," Bobby exclaimed. "And I thought my paw had a long
boner."
	"Your paw," I asked.
	"Yeah, my paw," Bobby said. But before he said anything else, he
marveled at my length. "You're just about eight damn inches. Eight damn
inches long!" he exclaimed in sincere admiration. "Shit, only a fraction of
an inch away; hell if you hadn't been cut, you'd be hanging well over eight
inches, I bet."  Bobby put the ruler down and began to jack me off. I knew
he wanted to watch me come. The other times we had been together, he
admitted how much he enjoyed seeing my juices erupt from my body.  "I bet I
can get it to swell to over eight," he said. He grooved along my shaft with
one hand and worked my tender balls with the other. I moaned and arched my
hips.
	"Bobby," I said to get his attention, even with his hand feeling so
damn good as it spun hot charges up and down my steel-like shaft.
	"Yeah," he replied.
	"What about your paw; how in the hell do you know how long he is?
When he's hard?"
	"Because he measured himself for me," Bobby said matter of factly,
keeping the rhythm going up and down my cock. "Measured his long, stiff
piece right in front of me."
	"When, how," I said surprised as Bobby worked away on my cock. I
knew I was about to come.
	"Not long ago. We were building a shed. It was a hot afternoon;
right after lunch; we were both a little relaxed. And I looked down and my
old man had a big, ugly hardon. He caught me looking at him."
	"Damn," I said. "Oh damn..." Bobby had me on the verge of
coming. As the one hand massaged my nuts and the other grooved my cock, I
could feel the cum boiling inside me. "Tell me more about your old man," I
gasped.
	Bobby recognized what was happening. He knew I was about to let go
of a big wad. He also knew the talk about his father's pecker had turned me
on. He picked up the pace, both of his story and the pressure of his
soothing hands around my loins.
	"And so my old man, just unbuttoned his overalls, took it out, and
said, 'if that's what you been wanting to look at, then look at it,
boy. Look at every damn bit of it'!"
	Bobby continued: "And then he took the t-square that he had been
holding and brought its edge down to his hardon. And that's when he
measured it."
	"Damn, his hard cock, right in front of you?" My nuts drew up tight
just before boiling over.
 	Bobby replied: "I watched as the inches ran over his long shaft; so
hard, with a wet eye."
	"Oh Bobby, oh..." I interrupted with a deep groan. I came! I came
hard! The physical excitement of Bobby's hand jacking away at me and the
visual images that flooded my mind of Mr. Leon Chandler measuring his hard
cock for his own son, caused me to pump squirt after squirt of my hot cum
all over Bobby.
	My cum bolted up to hit Bobby on his chest and to run down his
stomach. He massaged my boiling rocks and cranked away on my shooting cock,
fucking me with his fist. When a big gob jetted up to his chin, he licked
down to gather it in with his tongue.
	And just as I finished letting the last drop ooze out of my piss
slit, Bobby said, "And dad was right at seven and a half inches long."

	3 -- The Law and Bobby C.

	Bobby Chandler and I got very involved. In some ways, it surprised
me how easy it was to let go of the guilt and to enjoy guy-to-guy sex. We
got together every Friday and Saturday night and sometimes more
often. Usually we would hang out with different crowds, but we'd always
find a way to be at the same place.
	We would then go driving together and lay out most of the
night. Sometimes we would unfold an air mattress in the bed of my truck,
but more often than not, we would spread a blanket on the ground and make
passionate love.
	Bobby would often squat over me, turn his back to me and take my
turgid cock up his ass. The position allowed our balls to bounce
together. I liked the way Bobby could pump his ass... squeezing his butt
muscles as though trying to deflate my bloated tube.... forcing me to
plunge my oversized dick far into his hot depths... and slicing his anal
passages. At times he screwed me so hard that the intensity forced me to
claw at his back. At other times, I'd reach up to tweak his tits, letting
my nails dig into the beautiful skin.
     With the sex being so good between us, we longed to spend greater
amounts of time together. Bobby worked a couple of days each week at our
farms, doing odd jobs mostly for my Uncle Lyle. I encouraged Bobby to
return to school for his diploma. I began classes at the community
college. We never missed an opportunity to get after each other.
	But as cruel as life can sometimes be in a place like Dover
Springs, someone, somehow learned that Bobby and I often went to our spot
under the spreading tree in the back field off County Road 14 on Friday and
Saturday nights.
	One night after several months of going to our spot, we arrived and
within a few minutes we were butt assed naked on the blanket. I pressed my
body into Bobby's, feeling my sensitive tits raking across his own small
nips. I stopped and pressed into him, letting my puffy nipples paste
themselves to his cute chest. I moaned as Bobby squeezed down on my cock.
	Bobby whispered, "Fuck me, Kirk. Oh yes, let me feel your giant
cock!"
	Within seconds, I plunged into Bobby's tiny, hot ass. I drove my
extended pecker into the tight crevices of his friction-driven sleeve. A
rowdy fuck was on.
	"Oh yes, my man... Oh yes, fuck me with that big cock. Fuck me with
your king-sized pecker... Oh Kirk... Oh baby... oh my man!" Bobby was
screaming into the night.
	The fuck motion between us was tremendous. We had grown comfortable
with each other's feel, style and size.  My cock hammered Bobby's butt
until the tip of my cockhead felt like it was about to fall off. Under the
moonlight, with Bobby's sweet ass raised high in the air, I dropped my
melting shaft into his ass, screamed and pushed my pelvis into him. The
juices poured from my excited cock.
	"Argh... oh... oh man, Bobby!"
	"Yes Kirk, oh... yes," he assured me as he grabbed me by the buns,
forcing the last of my cum to seep from my fucked piece of meat and into
his sizzling ass.
	I was about to collapse on Bobby, with my cock planted in him, when
the beam of a bright flashlight came from the nearby field. The light hit
the truck. We were shadowed, but the truck was well lighted.
	"Holy shit! Get up, get your clothes," I exclaimed to Bobby. I did
not lose a second withdrawing from Bobby's grip, grabbing my pants, finding
my keys and getting into the truck. Somehow, I knew it was a law
enforcement officer coming from the field.
	"Quick, quick Bobby," I said, leaving the door open for him on the
truck as I started the truck The flashlight's beam hit Bobby directly. I
couldn't believe my eyes. My younger friend had not moved. For some reason,
he had not jumped up from the ground with me. I screamed at him as I
accelerated the engine, "Jump in, Bobby! Move!"
	Not wanting to be embarrassed, I scratched off. I was pretty damn
sure I could beat anyone out of the field because I had been down its
narrow backroads so often in recent months.
	"Stop, stop, you are trespassing. Stop! Stop!"
	I heard the voice, but my reflexes were set in one direction and
that was to leave the scene. I heard Bobby scream, "Go man, get the hell
out of here. Go on!"
	I realized Bobby had not been able to jump into the truck's
bed. But worst of all, I had left him behind in the field, alone, naked and
with Constable Ryan Barrett.
	* * * * *
   	As Bobby told me later, he watched the tailights of my truck dim in
the night as dust kicked up behind it. He was more than a little freaked
out when the tall, broad-shouldered Constable Barrett approached him. The
officer had his flashlight in one hand, his gun drawn in the other. The
flashlight had nailed Bobby in its beam, capturing the boy and making him
freeze. He wore only his tight briefs that he had struggled to get on.
   	Ryan Barrett was a top assistant to the county sheriff. He was
tough as nails; a rigid investigator. When the report first came in that a
truck regularly visited a certain spot in a local farmer's field near the
city limits, he became a little suspicious. Still, he doubted it was
anything out of the routine.  But he was surprised when the situation
confronted him of two guys together. Mr. Barrett grinned, shook his head,
and ran his hand down to his own meaty crotch. Finding a heavy hang there,
he smiled. He took his cap from his head and ran his fingers through his
thick locks. He had been a county cop for 25 years, but never could he
remember coming upon two boys who were getting it on.
	"So, was that your girlfriend driving that getaway truck," the
authoritarian Constable Barrett asked while Bobby fidgeted with the elastic
of his shorts. Bobby did not answer, instead he tried using the light of
the flashlight's beam to find his clothes. In the panic and confusion, he
had forgotten that he had dropped his duds into the truck's bed before
spreading the blanket.
	Bobby then thought about wrapping the blanket around himself, but
as he went to do so, the big, square-jawed Ryan Barrett stopped him. "Don't
move, I said." Barrett smiled and again rubbed himself.
	"But I want to get the blanket to cover myself," Bobby said.
Constable Barrett approached the boy. "No, you're fine just the way you
are. You have your shorts on."
	As the stoic Constable Barrett saw it, one friend had run off
without the other, and now the other stood before him. Small, cute, young,
bare chested, without his pants and scared! On top of it all, the youngster
could be run in for trespassing and public indecency.
	"But not so fast, slow down, enjoy the moment," Barrett told
himself. As he saw it, this was a situation that the good Constable liked a
whole lot. One that needed some massaging. One that gave him control over
an almost naked boy. One that tightroped the line of duty.
	Ryan Barrett was about 50 years old and divorced. He had run
through his share of wives, lovers and one-night stands; and he had used
his Charlton Heston-like charm, charisma and physique to their full
advantage. Lately though, he had been spending a lot of time alone. He
hungered for the days of his youth, and he still had a curiosity or two
that needed satisfying.
	"Yeah... You are fine just the way you are," the older man said to
Bobby as he bathed the light over Bobby's young body. "So, what were you
doing out here?"
	Bobby stepped back a couple of feet and said, "We were just
watching the stars and, ah... and meditating."
	"Watching the stars? Meditating?" the lawman asked
sarcastically. The constable chuckled to himself and then added, "Kid, you
must think I'm a fool!"
	"No sir, I don't," Bobby replied.
	The officer laughed, but let the head of the flashlight rest upon
Bobby's bosom, just above the lad's small nipple. He started rubbing
Bobby's bare chest with the flashlight. In a deep voice, sounding as though
he had gravel in his throat, Mr. Barrett asked the lad, "Were you out here
with a boyfriend? Huh?"
	"Please sir, just let me go. We weren't bothering anything; we
won't come back," Bobby replied.
	Bobby did not want to have to tell his name and he did not want to
be arrested. He sure as hell did not want to be hauled into the county jail
half naked and have to explain the situation to his old man. He knew Papa
Leon would blister his ass with a whip, not for being caught with a guy,
but for being careless and getting arrested.
	The handsome, older lawman and young boy studied each other. Each
tried to determine what the other might do.
	"What's your name," Mr. Barrett repeated.
	But Bobby continued to plea. "Please sir... please..."
	The boy noticed the older man's soft green eyes. Bobby Chandler was
nobody's fool either; he knew when he saw something, and he saw a definite
sparkle in the man's eyes. He knew his pleading was having an effect.
	"I should haul your ass to the jail," Barrett said, but he didn't
know if he was talking to Bobby or to himself. He knew the boy was pleading
with him, and he knew he felt lusty.
	"Please sir... please... help me out, please," Bobby begged the man
to understand the situation.
	Ryan Barrett smiled, stepped forward to again rub the head of the
flashlight over Bobby's chest. Barrett cast the intensity of the light's
beam upon the kid's chunky left breast. He wanted to reach down and grab
his own balls... and scratch them... right here in front of the lad... and
maybe even pull on his pecker that strangely enough was turning to cement.
	The constable heard himself tell the boy, "Well, maybe I won't have
to haul you in, if you show me you can act right."
	"Sir, please... whatever I need to do, just help me, please..."
	The boy's pleas thrilled the constable. All of a sudden, Barrett
remembered those times long ago when he and a few guys in the neighborhood
got together for a circle jerk. He smiled, remembering that his long-time
friend Ben Matra had been among that group. He and Ben had gotten together
a dozen or so times in all the years, but the constable had never risked
engaging with any other man, much less a boy.
	But the horny Ryan Barrett took Bobby's hand, and brought the half
naked lad into contact with his own body. With his mouth just inches from
Bobby's, he said, "I can handcuff you right now, kid, and haul your butt in
for breaking the law. Or... or... or..."
	The thickset Mr. Barrett did not end the sentence. Instead, he felt
Bobby's warm bare upper body pushing against his own under his crisply
starched shirt. He swallowed and stared at the lad. Tiny bumps of
stimulation covered his upper legs, belly and chest, and he realized that
his own fat cock was unfurling in his tight uniform pants.
	As the constable stuttered and then stopped, Bobby looked into the
man's deeply set eyes. Bobby then thought about me. He would make sure that
Mr. Barrett did not learn my name. Protecting me was foremost on Bobby
Chandler's mind, or so he said. The boy caught his breath, got up his nerve
and said to the constable, "Or, I could show you what me and my friend were
doing."
	Bobby meant it. He was willing. The kid had fantasized about doing
it with an older man, one of great authority.
	Having heard Bobby's offer, the constable could not control either
the tight smile that escaped his lips or the weighty cock inside his
pants. Faking surprise about hearing Bobby's offer, he asked the lad,
"What? What did you say, kid?" He still cradled Bobby as he waited for a
reply.
	Bobby gently rubbed his body into the lawman's. He, too, noticed
the warmth shared between them. The time he had spent on the streets had
taught Bobby too much to back off the situation with Mr. Barrett.
	The boy replied, "I said, I could show you what me and my friend
were doing." And then as if he needed to explain, Bobby leaned up and
whispered into the older man's ear, "To show you how good I can make you
feel, sir... to see what a strong, virile man you really are."
	A rush of hot heavy air released from the lawman's lungs. His cock
ached inside his pants. He could feel the boy's lips so close to his ear
that a soft blow of air current passed from Bobby's mouth into his ear
canal... penetrating... sensuously tickling the inner walls... stimulating
the nerves of his rigid mind as the words "strong, virile man," echoed
throughout.
	Ryan Barrett caught his breath just as Bobby leaned further into
him and nibbled on his heavy earlobe. Barrett squeezed the boy even tighter
and, just as if he was trying to convince himself, he said to Bobby, "I
should stop this, 'cuff you and haul you in."
	"But please... please Mr. Barrett... there's so much more that we
can do," the aggressive Bobby said. He then kissed the lawman's thick neck,
delighting in the salty taste. He brought his hand up to run it across the
older man's broad chest. He heard Ryan Barrett draw in a heavy intake of
the nightly air. The seduction was on...
	Bobby leaned up to kiss Ryan Barrett hard on the lips. The
constable surprised the boy by thrusting his thick tongue into Bobby's
small mouth. They locked together. The boy fiddled with the man's badge,
eventually unclipping it and tossing it down to the blanket.
	The towering constable pulled the lad completely off the ground as
their kiss went longer and deeper. He slowly let his knees buckle, taking
the boy down to the blanket with him. He felt the lad working at the
buttons of his uniform shirt. They broke the embrace as the boy rolled over
on Mr. Barrett.
	"Oh yes, sir, whatever it takes sir," Bobby said, not having a
second thought about getting it on with the lusty and ruggedly handsome
Ryan Barrett.
	"Oh boy, oh, this is something," the man panted, his face showing
the strains of deep sexual desire.
	Bobby finished unbuttoning the uniform shirt, delighting that with
each open button, just a little more of the older man's curvaceous bare
chest came into view. Finally, the lad spread the shirt to take in the full
lust of seeing Constable Barrett's wide puffy chest. Once he spread the
shirt open wide, Bobby ran his hands and started kneading the lawman's hard
muscles.  The man's smooth belly rose and fell in great excitement.
	A sparse patch of long, straggly hairs grew from the deep valley of
Ryan Barrett's finely carved chest, but otherwise he was as smooth as a
baby's butt. His breasts were thick and fat, leaving a lot to grab and
enjoy. His oversized nipples hung from the breasts, appearing like melted
copper dripping from the sexy, white slopes. A manly bush of growth spread
out long and thick from his underarms.
	The shirt was slipped off and then Bobby made his way down the
man's neck and to his chest to lick through the hairs growing in the
middle. The boy reached up to run his small hands up the sides of the man's
body. He felt the slight love handles around the beefy constable's belly
and then felt the enormity of the man's chest.
	Bobby squeezed the big breasts, causing them to overflow the
boundaries of his small hands. Bobby kneaded the man's gorgeous chest,
relishing the sound of hearing Mr. Barrett groan from deep within.
  	His small, thin fingers found Mr. Barrett's meaty nipples standing
out from his chest. He massaged the dark colored buttons before picking at
their tips. The man's tits turned to hard cones between the boy's fingers,
sticking out noticeably from the thick chest. Bobby thought the whitish
cones were almost as big as the tip of his little finger. The lad pinched
at the right one, hearing his middle-aged lover groan from the pleasure.
 	The boy's lips moved toward the lawman's belly button. As the
youngster kissed over the constable's stomach and drilled his tight navel
with his tongue, he started to unbuckle the hinge to the treasure that lay
below.
	"Oh yes, that's it... go for it, boy. Go for it," Mr. Barrett said,
digging his heels into the blanket and lifting his ass so Bobby could take
down his pants. Once the man's footwear and pants were pulled off, Bobby
kissed his way up the man's thick legs. He put his hands at the flanks of
the lawman's underwear. He started to pull. Ryan Barrett lifted his tight
ass even higher, letting the boy have his way.
	Mr. Barrett looked down the length of his bare, smooth body as
Bobby removed his shorts. The man grinned when his fat, uncut cock waved
itself into view. The dim glow of the flashlight lying on the ground
provided just enough light for Bobby to get a good look at the stiff
pecker. Its veins stuck out, providing a coarse, textured look. The strips
of foreskin hung back heavily, retracting to give Bobby a clear view of the
man's cockhead.  Bobby noticed that the cockeye was huge. The shaft itself
was not pretty, but it was damn imposing.
	"Take it boy. Show me what you and your boyfriend do to each
other," Mr. Barrett insisted.
	Bobby gathered the man's crotch between his hands. He grooved the
hard shaft, enjoying the moment of pleasure with Mr. Barrett, but noticing
that the man's dick did not have my kind of length. He heard Barrett
breathing deep, almost panting. He rubbed the man's tight balls, thinking
how they were big and full just like brass castor rollers.
	"Yes, beat it, kid. Beat my hard, fat cock!"
	"Whatever it takes, Mr. Barrett. Whatever it takes" Bobby
repeated. He pistoned his fist up and down the shaft, feeling a lot of
friction between his palm and the skin of Mr. Barrett's cock. He reached up
to again pinch at the lawman's right nipple, pulling it out to coil it.
	"I feel it, boy. I feel my balls... oh boy..."
	Bobby knew that the constable was about to blow his cum. The man's
balls tensed up tightly almost folding up into the man's body. Mr. Barrett
lifted his ass off the blanket. He then turned the middle portion of his
body into Bobby's cute face.
	"Coming, boy... I'm coming!"
	The man extended his juicy stiff pecker up to Bobby's mouth. He
grabbed the back of Bobby's head and shouted, "Suck me, baby. Suck me,
kid!" He forced Bobby's mouth to the head of his needy cock.
	The man then spurted his heavy load of cum into the depths of
Bobby's sweet mouth. Bobby started to resist, but realized that he desired
the salty, creamy essence of the lawman's lower body.
	"Oh there! You have me... all of my cum... every little seed of
it!" the constable exclaimed, feeling the last small drops of semen ease
from the deep hole of his spent pecker. The boy had beat him off in a
fabulous manner. And now the boy was his for the night. One cum was seldom
enough for big Ryan Barrett, especially considering how horny his balls had
been the last couple of weeks.

	4 -- Until The Sun Comes Up

	Ryan Barrett squeezed the boy's small body to his large frame. The
hot skin of their bodies melted together. He liked the feel of Bobby's
small body lying beside him, nestled in his hairy armpit. He leaned down
and kissed the boy on his forehead. The boy's body shifted slightly causing
his own stiff pecker, which was still in his shorts, to rub against
Mr. Barrett's left leg.
	The constable smiled. "It's a long time to sun up, kid."
	"Yes, it is sir," Bobby replied, knowing that he would stay as long
as Mr. Barrett needed him.
	"I guess your friend left you, huh?"
	"I guess he did," Bobby replied.
	"His loss," the constable said in a sincere manner. It caused Bobby
to grin. After a long pause, the older man said, "And I don't guess there's
really anything at all going on in this field that I need to report." He
turned over to look at his young lover. "Nothing at all. Just us two hot
studs watching the stars."
	Barrett chuckled at himself, then to Bobby's delight the gentleman
turned to rub the outside of the boy's stiff cock. He caressed Bobby's
stiffer through the cotton briefs before pulling the elastic of the briefs
away from Bobby's body so he could fish out the chubby stub of meat. For
the first time since those many years ago when he had first jacked off the
long, brown cock belonging to Ben Matras, the lawman wrapped his hard,
callous palm around another man's dick. He squeezed at the kid's dick as
Bobby moaned without restraint.
	"Shall I continue," he asked the boy, his deep voice vibrating the
kid's very cock.
	"Please... yes, please sir," Bobby replied.
	The man's big hands worked wonders on Bobby's hard shaft and
balls. As big Ryan Barrett recalled it, Ben Matra had a much larger cock
than this boy, but still, he liked how the kid felt and how he was reacting
to the hand job.
	Bobby felt Mr. Barrett nails teasing the head of his cock, making
his balls jerk. The expertise by which the older Mr. Barrett masturbated
his hard, stubby dick thrilled the lad.
	Within a few seconds, Bobby felt his balls jerk and the electric
rush of another cum. He cried out and spurted his cum into the air. The
sight thrilled Mr. Barrett. The steamy jet of Bobby's fuck juice renewed
the hardening of his own fat cock.
	He felt Bobby's cum run between his own thick fingers. Caught up in
the passion, the virile Ryan Barrett took his cum covered hand and wrapped
it around his own pecker that again owned that familiar ache of
rigidity. He knew it would be a while before he tired of screwing around
with this young boy. He felt years younger, and he wasn't about to make
this a one-cum affair.
	* * * * *
	The strapping Constable Barrett crawled over to fetch his wallet
out of his back pocket. He opened it and brought out an aluminum foil
package. Bobby thought he was about to put on a rubber, but instead the big
man tore the package and squeezed some creamy oil in his hand.  He then
lathered his cock up as Bobby watched.
	"You like it, boy?"
	"Yes, yes sir, I do," Bobby said.
	"Like it as much as your boyfriend's?"
	"In different ways," Bobby answered.
	"In different ways," the older man repeated while greasing his
stiff, fat cock. "Sounds like you're not too sure of who you prefer. Maybe
I just need to give you some more of it and let you get a good feel!"
	The man's hand was slowly jacking his cock. Bobby admired its
diameter. Considering his large physique, Ryan Barrett didn't have a long
cock, but the manroot had plenty of muscle.
	When Bobby failed to answer, Mr. Barrett crawled over to him, and
with his stiff pecker waving in the air, he grabbed Bobby's legs and spread
them apart. He hovered over the lad and again wrapped the boy in his large,
hairy arms.
	They kissed long and deep with the lawman leaning Bobby back on the
blanket. The big man used his pecker to scrabble Bobby's ass cheeks. He and
Ben had done many things, but neither had wanted the other to rump fuck
him. But it seemed so different with little Bobby.
	"Is this okay, boy?"
	"Please Mr. Barrett, just let me suck you off."
	"No, I wanna screw you; I ain't never screwed another man's ass."
The thought of taking the dick cherry of Ryan Barrett excited the
boy. Bobby only wished it hadn't been so recent since he had encouraged me
to blast my own spunk inside him.
	"Mr. Barrett, please no. Later."
	"I can't force you, kid, but please don't deny me."
	Bobby looked at the passion-drawn face above him. He knew the man's
pecker was hard as iron. He could understand the gentleman's need to
finally screw another man. Bobby Chandler also knew he could give the older
man one hell of a fuck.
	When Bobby spread his legs, lifted his ass and invited Ryan Barrett
to screw him, as he told me later, he thought of two things. He hoped I had
not returned to watch from the field, and it made him damn excited to think
that the constable was going to be fucking in my cum.
	Big, studly Mr. Barrett, who been hard for a long while already,
could not stand the wet heat of Bobby's fine pit. Bobby screwed him with a
passion, choking the man's fat cock, bucking up fast and strong to meet the
man's thrusts, and clawing madly at the man's hard back.
	The entire act took little more than a minute. When Ryan Barrett
pumped his hot juices into Bobby's butt, he thought the root of his mature,
aged cock was about to pop from his pubic base. His buttocks flexed as the
head of his pecker popped time after time, spilling its seed deep into the
lad.
     As his stud meat released its cream, Ryan Barrett shivered and
trembled. The thought of his cock syrup shooting off to join the fuck
juices left there by another man made the big man quiver. The lawman could
not recall the last time a woman had made his dick feel so damn good and
appreciated. He again hugged the boy to him, much like he would any
possession.
	* * * * *
	I thought about going back to the scene and making sure Bobby was
okay. But thinking that the cop had probably seen what we were doing, I
could not risk the embarrassment. It took me a long while to decide what to
do, but finally after pulling over and thinking for a long while, I decided
to go home.
	I felt pretty guilty leaving Bobby out in the field to face the law
alone. It also scared me to think about what the cop might have found out
about me from Bobby.
	I was just about inside the sheets of my bed, when I heard my mom
and dad arguing. I had seldom heard them fuss. For a few moments, their
exchanges were as heated as I ever remembered; voices were pitched and
stressed. Then, I could tell they deliberately toned it down to excited
whispers and, within a short time, I heard my father outside my door.
	"Kirk, is that you? Did you make it in?"
	"Yeah dad. I'm home. Sorry, I'm a little late."
	I rolled over thinking that would be the end of his inquiry and in
a few seconds I would be fast asleep. Instead, he turned on the light to my
room and came to the doorway.
	I swallowed hard. Damn, he had not bothered putting on a robe. He
was in a pair of sexy maroon boxers, and he wasn't wearing a tee shirt. Dad
displayed a tremendous upper body...  broad-shouldered... tightly-stretched
skin spreading out over the expanse of a hairy chest... firm, curvy
lats... a belly that had a slight ripple... pectorals that puffed out
fat... rich bronzed nipples sitting up high and proud on his pecs... a sexy
pebble of a tit that seemed to beg for attention.  Heavy strands of hair
brushed over the big valley of his chiseled pecs.  The hairs curled up
thick there, but otherwise his hair was just thick enough to feather his
chest. I studied the stream of sexy hair that ran down his firm belly and
into his shorts. I admired him until his voice jarred my attention.  He had
walked over to near the bed.
	"Kirk, ah, Leon Chandler just called a little while ago. He was
upset with how late you've been keeping Bobby out."
	"Bobby never mentioned no curfew. You and mom know I'm careful."
	"Oh yes. But Kirk, your mother is concerned and..."
	"Why," I asked, now leaning out of the bed. I felt the sheet rake
down my bare chest. For just a moment, I thought dad had also watched the
sheet slide to my waist as I raised up.
	After a second or two, he answered, "I don't need to get into all
of that. I trust you."
	I heard the words, "I trust you." That meant the world to me. Yet,
I wondered if he still would have meant them if he had seen me escaping
from the law just a few hours before.  "Thanks, dad."
	He smiled, leaned down, slapped me on my sheet-covered leg and, to
my delight, sat on the bed by me.
	"Now, get the boy home earlier and, whether it's true or not, just
tell your mother that you and Bobby double date. Ya know, that you pick up
gals... babes... on occasion, ya know?" His voice was much in the same tone
as I had once or twice heard him deal with my Uncle Lyle. Serious, but
filled with love.
	Just how my dad had phrased the sentence, ending with the words "ya
know," told me he was trying to reach an understanding with me without
describing the particulars. He winked and placed his hand on my right upper
leg, gripping it and then patting it before rising from the bed.
	The special way he squeezed my upper leg and winked at me told me
that regardless of any shit that mom was trying to lay on me, dad was
understanding and was there to defend me. And, most of all, he was telling
me that I had responsibilities, too, especially with getting Bobby home on
time and satisfying Mr. Chandler.
	Again I found myself inspecting my dad's gorgeous chest. Funny, I
thought, for so many years he really was just my dad, a man whose body I
never noticed. And now, he was someone I found myself admiring, someone
whose body definitely could turn me on.
	"So, we understand each other?" he asked.
	I smiled. "I think we do," I answered.
	"And where your mother is concerned?"
	"Yes, there especially."
	He leaned down and patted me on my arm. We then shook hands. When
he turned to leave, I studied his bare back, the curves of his buttocks and
the tightness of his ass. He slapped the door gently with his hand as he
got ready to leave the bedroom.
	"Good night, Kirk."
	"Good night, dad."
	I laid in the dark for almost two hours.  After a long silence, dad
and mom started arguing again. I could not drown out their voices, but I
really didn't care to, at that point. My worries remained on Bobby and what
might have happened to him.
	* * * * *
	Seven miles away, Ryan Barrett was plunging his hard shaft into the
pit of Bobby's guts for the second time that night. The crafty lawman could
not get enough of Bobby Chandler's love. The kid drove him wild. He liked
drilling his oily cock into the tightness of Bobby's tiny, wet ass. He
relished the way the kid's anal muscles wrapped themselves around the
thickness of his cock and moved with him... in and out... nice and hot!
	He fired yet another load deep into Bobby. He kissed the kid,
letting the lad know that he was falling for him.
	After that night, Constable Ryan Barrett wasn't about to let the
splendid fuck he had received be the last one he enjoyed from the lovable
Bobby. The fact that Bobby and Mr. Barrett even made it together at all was
bizarre enough, but most outlandish, they had enjoyed it. And that became a
big problem for mine and Bobby's relationship.
	The twosome left the field about an hour before sun up. With the
blanket wrapped around him, the constable drove Bobby home. To help Bobby
out even further, the robust constable got out of his patrol car and told
Papa Leon, "You should be proud of your boy, Mr. Chandler. Seems some local
thugs tried to gang up on him. They ripped up his clothes pretty bad, but
they didn't harm ole Bobby, too much."
	"Boy, are you okay," the concerned father asked.
	"I'm fine, paw. Just fine. They tore my clothes, that's why I'm
wearing the blanket, but otherwise, no harm. Actually, I out ran them."
	"And, of course, I saw what was going on and helped him out," the
constable said, winking at the father. "He's a good kid, Mr. Chandler."
	"Well thank you, sir. Thank you."
	As Bobby walked on into the house, the constable spent a good half
hour talking to Mr. Chandler, winning his confidence and letting him know
how much he liked Bobby.

	5 -- Meeting Mr. C

	Later the next morning, Bobby called and told me everything was
fine. He said he explained to the officer that he had been hazed as a
school prank, and a couple of other guys had run off and left him almost
naked. He said the officer believed him and helped him out from there.
	"I never had to tell him your name," Bobby said. "So relax, it's
cool."
	"Was he looking for me, though, ya know, for leaving the scene?" I
asked.
	"No. He even told me he'd be running, too, if he had just left a
friend bare ass naked in the woods. He laughed about it."  I asked Bobby if
we might could get together later that day, but he avoided me. I asked him
if he were upset that I left him, but he assured me that he wasn't.
	But Bobby began to avoid me. All of a sudden he became busy on
Friday and Saturday nights. I got hurt. When he failed to show up to work
part-time around the ranch, I called to ask if he still wanted the job.
	He replied, "I thought I worked for your uncle. I'll talk to him."
The conversation ended there.
	Bobby wouldn't tell me what was bothering him, yet he didn't seem
like he wanted to be with me. After I didn't see Bobby for three weekends
and after he stopped returning my calls, I decided that he must have gotten
into some trouble the night we had been interrupted in the field and now
Mr. Chandler would not let him see me. I went to his house late that
Saturday night.
	Mr. Chandler met me at the front door, trying to button the plaid
shirt around his upper body. He was a tall, thin man. A little rough around
the edges, but overall a fairly nice looking man. He resembled actor Hal
Holbrook.
	I looked down at my watch; it was almost 11 p.m. It occurred to me
right then that I really didn't have any right coming to Bobby's house at
such an hour.
	I stuttered and stumbled and finally Mr. Chandler smiled and
interrupted me, "Are you looking for my son?"
	"Yes sir, I was just wondering where Bobby might be?"
	"He hasn't told you," the seasoned man asked me. "I've given him
all your phone messages."
	"Told me what?" I asked.
	"He is in a weekend mentoring program."
	"He's what?"
	"He's men-tor-ing," Bobby's father emphasized and then chuckled. He
could tell my surprise.
 	"With whom?"
	"With this nice lawman who has taken an interest in him. Man by the
name of Ryan Barrett. About my age, but someone Bobby can learn some things
from."
	Quickly, the thoughts flashed through my mind. "Bobby? Mentoring?
With a constable? No way!"
	Anger rushed over me. I thought about how long this had been going
on. I remembered Bobby's lame excuse about what he told the law officer who
had interrupted us. Above all else, I knew Ryan Barrett was quite the
looker. I also thought he was capable of swinging both ways, especially
with a kid as cute as Bobby.  "What do they do in this program," I said
struggling to get the words out.
 	"They go off and do things... together. Bobby seems to like it."
	I heard Mr. Chandler, but my thoughts were on Ryan Barrett. Shit, I
recalled, last summer Ryan Barrett had come around to the city pool and had
stayed a long time watching the men's room. I remember he had struck up a
really superficial conversation with me. Damn, yes, I was certain his
deeply set eyes had taken in the size of my cock. His eyes had moved over
my body while he talked about the city's need to renovate the locker
rooms. I knew Barrett could have told Bobby's father about a mentoring
program as a perfect reason for him and Bobby to get away together.
 	"What kinds of things do they do," I asked.
	"Well, like they've gone camping tonight."
	My heart tied into my throat. There was no mentoring program. I
couldn't believe that Bobby had dumped me for the older man. Hell yes, I
knew Constable Barrett was a good looking man and real macho, but it pained
me to know that Bobby had taken to him. (I recall how I distrusted Bobby at
that moment, but Bobby later told me that he gave himself to the constable
to protect me and my name. Bobby admitted that he enjoyed most of the time
he spent with Ryan Barrett, but it also helped that the constable later
arranged to pay the house rent for Bobby and his father, calling it "an
incentive" in Bobby's mentoring program.)  Mr. Chandler looked at me and
must have recognized that I was hurt... lonely... dejected.
	He gently nudged me by the arm and said, "Come inside."
	He escorted me into his house, but we didn't stop in his living
room. Instead, he took me back to his bedroom. He pulled a bottle of brandy
out of a dresser and two glasses from a nearby cabinet.
	He poured the brandy, raised his glass, tilted it toward me and
then drank it down. He cleared his throat, wiped his lips with the back of
his hand, looked me square in the eyes and said, "I'm smart enough to know
that you like Bobby," Mr. Chandler said.
	"Well yes, Bobby and I are real good friends," I tried to explain.
	"No excuses, no explanations, boy." A smile struck Mr. Chandler's
face, but it soon vanished. "I know what the score is amongst you and
Bob. Yeah son, I know that you're horny for him."
 	I was dumbfounded! Completely overwhelmed! Mr. Chandler knew it,
too.
	He reached up and patted me on the shoulder and said, "And, I
understand how it can be growing up and all."
	His hand stopped patting me, but instead, it began to rub at my
shoulder.
	Mr. Chandler cleared his deep raspy voice and said, "I know Bobby
likes you, too."
	With my mind racing from all that Mr. Chandler had said, the rangy
Mr. Chandler reached up with his other hand and began to knead at my
chest... sure.. confident... very much in charge.  My breathing deepened.
Mr. Chandler's palms kneaded my chest in a unique way, almost squeezing my
breasts with his fingernails with each compression. I found it both
arousing and relaxing.
	"And I'm sorry, my son's not here to see you," I heard him say, but
my thoughts were on his soothing hands and the excitement they were
bringing to my pecs. Leon Chandler whispered to me, "Oh yes, to be with
you... to touch you..."
	Mr. Chandler pressed into me; his lips met mine; his tongue forced
its way into the warmth of my mouth. His hands worked their way down my
body. While I tried gathering my senses, his left hand squeezed my
chest. He whispered to me, "Please boy. Please. I'd sure enjoy getting to
know you."
	My lover's father kissed me again. I didn't understand why I was
relaxing so easily, giving myself to the wonderlust of Leon Chandler.
	Within a few seconds, he had the buttons to my shirt undone. His
fingertips ran across my body like a racoon scurrying across a highway. The
man was kissing me with great penned up passion, showing how much he needed
the release.
	My curiosity of having sex with an older man stirred me. My
fantasies took over as Mr. Chandler pulled my shirt off me and descended
his sucking mouth to my neck and chest.
	I thought about Bobby... I thought about him and the big Ryan
Barrett getting it on... I imagined that Mr. Barrett had a giant dick
between his legs... one that fascinated Bobby even more than mine.
	Leon Chandler's tongue started taking deep licks across my pecs and
then began to lap at my nipples. He was hungry for the fresh, blossoming
buds of my brown paps. I watched as he kissed, licked, sucked and chewed at
both of my tits.
	He lifted his mouth and panted, "Nice tits, boy. Good teasin'
tits. Damn good to suck."
	He led me over to his bed and guided me down to it. I moaned as
Mr. Chandler joined me and again found my tits. He used his pointed tongue
to go from one silver-dollar boynip to the other. After he moved from the
right one to the left one a couple of times, I found myself pushing my
breasts upward for him, giving the man all of the puckered flesh.
	I thought about Mr. Chandler and what Bobby had said about how long
his father's dick was... I thought about Stan again... and, for some
reason, I thought about that chesty picture of Stan's father... and then I
thought about Uncle Lyle... and Dad... in the buff... damn, I really had to
stop thinking about dad.
	When Mr. Chandler moved down to wrap his long teasing fingers
around my pants-covered cock, I thought I would jump out of my skin. My
cock had become incredibly hard between my fantasies and the tongue action
the older man had given my tender tits.
	Mr. Chandler chuckled as though he appreciated what he had
found. And then he mumbled, "Oh yeah... My boy said you had a long one. Bob
couldn't hardly stop talking about how damn long you were." As Bobby's
father began to unbuckle my pants, I again tried to gain control. My mind
raced ahead.
	I thought about Bobby, puzzled that he would have shared something
so personal about me to his old man, but I remembered that Bobby had told
me how long his old man was, too. I thought about what he and Constable
Barrett must be doing while out camping.
	But before I could think about anything else, Mr. Chandler pulled
my pants down and grabbed my briefs by their flanks.  Making a play for
morality, I stopped him.
	"No, we can't do anything more, Mr. Chandler."
	"Shit we can't, son."
	"It's not right. Because of me and Bobby... because of you and
Bobby."
	He looked me in the eye and said in earnest, "But I want you,
son. I want you very much."
	He reached down and began to edge my shorts from around my waist. I
did not stop him; instead, I liked the feeling of being wanted. As my
pressurized cock popped out like a flagpole, Mr. Chandler wrapped his wide,
skinny hand around it.
	He snickered, excited about his find. I moaned, excited that after
so many weeks, finally someone had my cock in his hand.  "I've wanted you
since the first night Bobby brought you by the house," he said.
	Bobby's father stroked my cock with a nice, easy motion, letting me
know he liked my dick. He played through my pubes; he caressed my balls
with surprising care. Pre-cum leaked from my cockeye, he saw it, smiled and
licked it from my dick. He sucked my cockhead, enough to get it perked and
ready.
	And then to my ultimate excitement, Leon Chandler stepped back,
unbuckled his pants and let them fall to the floor. He did not wear
underwear. The cute head of his cock poked out from the funnel of
foreskin. It was pink and purple, dark and wet from its drippings.
	Bobby had been right about his old man's cock. It was lengthy; it
attracted my interests. The uncut dick had one dominating vain cut down its
middle. The heavy foreskin funneled down to taper off the head of the
cock. The dark shaft reddened from the blush of excitement.
	Mr. Chandler then pulled his shirt off and threw it to the side. I
looked up to take in his mature body; his chest was flat and smooth except
for sprigs of long hairs growing around his cute titties and below his
knotted belly button. The older man's nickel-sized tits were dark, staring
out like two round eyes.
	Bobby's father pulled the cover and sheet back from his made bed,
holding the covers open to invite me in. I got in bed with him, with our
cocks stabbing to find each other.
	I rolled on top, and Mr. Chandler began to kiss and lick at my
face. Our cocks played together, enjoying the feel of hot flesh to hot
flesh. I felt a tiny spurt from the tip of mine. Mr. Chandler grinned when
he felt the liquid spill on his shaft.
	"This is good, boy. Mighty good," the man panted.
	We kissed hard, jammed our cocks and balls together, and got lost
in the other's body. Mr. Chandler rolled on top letting his rigid dong
grind into and out of my pubic patch. The older man was humping my body as
I massaged his back and ass.
	"Grab our dicks, Kirk. Grab them," he insisted.
	I delayed the action, instead looking down to survey his lanky
body.
	He again urged, "Take it, boy. Come on, Kirk. Feel me off."
	His cock had a definite swell. Mr. Chandler scooted toward me. I
had not yet touched his cock, but Bobby's father wanted nothing more. The
more I hesitated, the more be pleaded. "Please Kirk, please boy..."
	The dick wagged, no more than a few inches from my face. Refusing
the man was out of the question. I wanted sex. I wanted him!
	I brought my hand up to run it up his right leg through his healthy
covering of pubic hair and onto the base of his warm shaft. When my hand
wrapped around his leaky cock and stroked it, Mr. Chandler drew in his
stomach, taking in a stream of air.
	He exhaled, moaned and said, "Damn, it's been so long since
someone..." He didn't finish the sentence, instead he jerked his hips
forward to move the swelling cock through my fist. He inhaled and exhaled
even deeper.
	While caressing his slender ass, his large hanging nutsac caught my
interest. The sac was far larger than the nuts, but the nuts looked
primed. When I massaged his balls, the man's dick pulsated in my hand,
growing even harder and tighter, adding a little more girth to the slender
shaft.
	I stroked it, again appreciating its length and eagerness.  I
choked the ripened peter with both hands.
	"Put 'em together. Let me feel mine with yours," Bobby's father
panted.
	I hesitated.
	"Go ahead, Kirk. Rub those dicks together. Make them both come!"
	I needed no further instruction. I grabbed our dicks with both of
my hands. The shafts joined together in the cup of my hands. Together, we
thrust our hips, grinding the shafts together.
	"Oh baby. That's good. That's so good," he moaned.
	Again we kissed deep and hard; I elevated my hips to hump and bump
in a way that allowed our bloated balls to caress each other. When our
sweaty chests pressed together, I could feel our tits kissing, my excited
point to his perky tip. While continuing to masturbate our cocks together,
I sank my lips to Mr. Chandler's chest. When I found his cute, ripe tittie,
I kissed the tip and then I sucked the flesh into my mouth.
	My hands had gotten our cocks about as excited as they could be
without erupting. My ass was tight, my balls were about to explode and the
head of my dick ached for the pleasure of feeling Mr. Chandler's cock next
to it.
	"Oh yes, Mr. Chandler, oh yes," I moaned.
	"Do us, boy. Do us," he ordered as he arched his chest so I would
know to suck from his other little tit.
	I chewed down on the flat tit and squeezed both cocks. Mr. Chandler
reached back to claw at my buttocks. His grunts and groans assured me that
he was also getting close.
	All control left me. My fists raced along our shafts, creating a
great amount of friction.
	"Argh... oh shit... I'm about there, Mr. Chandler, just about..." I
moaned loudly.
	The older man saw the pleasure dominating my expression. The sweat
dripped between us. The bed rocked, and my balls drew up tight. I knew I
was coming.
	I raised my chest up to let my dick rub down Mr. Chandler's shaft
one last time before spurting free just as my lover grabbed both of my
brown nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. He pinched down,
squeezing the entire width of my nipples together, pressing the underside
together to feel the tip's stem and provoking the cum to spurt in forceful
streams from my cock.
	My cum covered the man's lower belly, cock and balls. The warmth of
my semen hitting his nuts brought Mr. Chandler off.
	"That's it, boy... Now, daddy is coming, coming all over
you... coming... coming." I hugged him tight as his cock erupted, forming
pools of our blended cum.
	"So good... oh, I ain't had attention like that, boy... Not in a
long ass time."
	We fell against each other; our cums pasting us together. We kissed
me with great affection.
	We rested for only a short while, before the potent man leaned up
from me, smiled and said, "Now lean back. Let me give you what you've
really been wanting." Mr. Chandler again grabbed my hard cock, and added,
"And what I've really been wanting."
	My mature lover spread my legs, massaged them and complimented me
on their nice feel. As I watched with great anticipation, Mr. Chandler
moved his hands slowly back up my legs. He moved in again to stroke my
hefty cock a few times before finally squeezing its head, leaning down and
then spitting on it. He lubed me good. Just as I had done for him, his
other hand worked its way up to my nipples.
	"Yeah, nice puffy, sweet titties, kid... better than a woman's," he
said, his fingers closing around my puckered nipples and his hand cranking
my cock.
	He nudged my crotch with his pointed chin. He kissed both balls and
then sucked the left one into his mouth. His hands grooved along my
dick. The absolute pleasure made me groan without restraint; my whole body
shifted so I could provide him mnaximum access.
	With the excitement generated by his warm, hot mouth sucking my
nuts and the superior fondling of my long shaft, the man had me on the
verge of coming, and he knew it. Without losing the opportunity, Bobby's
father grabbed my cock at the base, looked at it, looked at me and said,
"Yes indeed, you have one big dick, kid. One big, beautiful dick!"
	And then, Mr. Chandler deep throated me all in one motion. "Damn,"
I thought. "The tip of my dick had to be nudging against his Adam's
apple... wholly shit!"
	Mr. Chandler sunctioned at my cock only a couple of times before I
blew my load. Electric waves of sexual release covered my body. He took my
first two long shots before easing my volcanic cock from his mouth. My
third spurt shot high into the air, raining on my legs and his shoulder.
	Mr. Chandler looked up at me and said, "Can't have that. Give it
back here, boy!"
	Without hesitating, he opened his mouth and swallowed my spitting
dick once again.  He busied himself drinking the rest of my hot juices. It
had been three weeks since I had seen Bobby; I'd only beaten off once in
that time. I was hot; I filled Mr. Chandler with a lot of semen.
	Although I told myself that making it with Bobby's father had been
wrong, and even though I had promised myself not to return, I couldn't
resist the forbidden fruit. Leon Chandler even made a point to call the
house to assure me that I was welcomed back.
	Seems like I knew his invite was heartfelt, seeings how in just
about three weeks, I found myself knocking on the door to the Chandler's
small house, again late on a Saturday night.
	Shirtless, with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, the lanky
Mr. Chandler greeted me saying, "What kept you so long? I thought you
stayed randy?"
	"Maybe I shouldn't have come back," I said.
	He smiled, hugged me to his slender body and escorted me inside to
his bedroom.
	"I started not to come at all," I said.
	"But you did. And speaking of come, I've been thinking of that
unending cock of yours ever since you left."
	Again we shared a glass of wine before going to bed. We sucked each
other off, with both of us dumping heavy loads.
	The man wanted to fuck me and encouraged me to take a sample of his
"deep, scrawny butt," but I did not want that with him. The oral part was
satisfying enough.
	Mr. Chandler and I met again a couple of days later. Again the sex
was hot and furious, but again, I had great doubts about getting involved
with the father of my ex-lover. I wondered what Bobby would think if he
knew? I wondered if maybe Leon Chandler had proudly told his boy about
making me?
	But about two weeks later, after Bobby's dad and I been together a
fourth time, I knew I had to stop things. The sex was unbelievably good;
Mr. Chandler was a great romp in the sack; and he took great pride in
pleasing his partner. Just like his son, he loved to drill my ass with his
tongue. He kept pursuing my ass, but I did not need that with him.
	Bobby had hurt me by taking up with the constable and avoiding
me. Still, continuing a sexual relationship with his old man just wasn't
the cool thing to do. It had nothing to do with Leon Chandler as a lover;
he was a passionate man who knew how to satisfy a horny youong man ike
me. But still, I could not keep on doing him or having him do me. Realizing
that, I made up my mind to stop seeing either Bobby or his father.


	6 -- Divided, United

	Someone started talking about me, and I never really knew who it
was, but about two months after I stopped seeing either of the Chandlers a
lot of rumors started. Well, more than rumors. Greatest of that truth was
that I was gay. Worst of the rumor was that I was a male prostitute.
	Perhaps Bobby's father got a little too drunk one night at some
road side dive and ran his mouth about "the rich, cocksucking Rivers kid."
Or, perhaps Bobby told Ryan Barrett and the constable started blabbing. I
had to consider that maybe it was even someone in my family, but I
shouldn't mention my bigoted Aunt Brenda.
	When the rumors surfaced and my parents heard, I thought I would
have my whole family for support, but mom soon started showing her agenda,
so to speak. One evening after supper, Mom asked me why Bobby didn't come
around anymore.
	When I said, "Oh, he's just gotten busy," she replied, "It's
certainly for the best. Remember how it was when you and Stan were spending
too much time together? Wouldn't you prefer to spend that much time with a
young lady of your choice?"
	Although mom didn't expect a response, the condescending tone of
the questions startled me. Dad noticed it, too. Mom was about to say
something else, but dad intervened. He seemed protective of me and
resentful of mom's attitude. Mother gave dad a stern look, but allowed the
conversation to change. I could tell the two of them were having some real
problems. Mom wanted to control dad, but he held his own as best he could.
	While I dealt with my image around town, my family's troubles soon
worsened. In many ways, it really was like we were all together as a happy
family, including my uncle, aunt and young cousins, and then it was like
everything changed... fast!  At first, Uncle Lyle and Aunt Brenda
separated, but it wasn't long before they filed for divorce.
	At about the same time, my parents got into some of the worst
bitching and fighting of their marriage. I heard Uncle Lyle's name
mentioned many times. I heard dad shout "bullshit" on several occasions.
	One night, I heard my mom shout in a real snarly, drunken voice,
"Come on, if you're the handsome, honorable Mitch Rivers, fuck me like a
man should fuck his wife!" And then, there's was nothing but deep
gasps. Either dad was fucking her deep or mom was crying.
  	Before too many worrisome nights could pass, my parents decided to
tell me and Kent the troublesome news. They were separating and likely to
get a divorce. My throat straggled my tongue. The word "divorce" echoed
throughout my mind.
	Shortly after Aunt Brenda and my young cousins left town, my Mom
also left, splitting up my brother and me. Kent was being forced to move
with her before he could graduate from the local high school. I know Dad
always felt guilty about that, and later tried to make it up to Kent.
	I thought about what the Dover Springs community would think when
they heard that the distinguished Mitchell Rivers, and his lovely wife
Karen were divorcing. I could hear the blue-hair choir ladies now, "They
split up just a few months after all the rumors about their oldest son."
	* * * * *
	When all was settled, my dad and my Uncle Lyle became my
family. They both made me feel very special and important to the operations
of the ranches.
	Both dad and my Uncle Lyle threw themselves into their
ranches. Before long, they joined properties, hired a foreman, extra
cowboys, and bought several hundred more head of cattle. My dad and Uncle
Lyle both seemed to have a renewed spirit about working the spread, now
officially named "The Rivers Run Ranch."  And they both even seemed
happier, as though filled with a lot of youthful energy.
	They were making money, a lot of which was sent to take care of my
mom and Aunt Brenda. Uncle Lyle didn't seem to miss my Aunt Brenda, and dad
didn't seem to miss mom. During that first year, I never saw my uncle or
dad go out on a date.
	There wasn't much talk at all about my parent's divorce. I thought
I should feel crushed that my parents had split, but it didn't affect me
that much. I missed Kent, but the special times that my dad, Uncle Lyle and
I had around the ranch were priceless.
	For instance, I remember one afternoon when Dad and I had just
finished inspecting the lands and surrounding fences around the spread. The
sun flirted with the horizon as we rode past the large pond that sat just
about in the middle of the two ranches.  Dad stopped his horse, looked at
me, and said, "Want to go in? Summer will be over soon and we won't get
much more of a chance."
	"Let's do it," I followed.
	My old man and I stripped down to our shorts. I looked him over,
realizing that I hardly ever got to see him go around bare chested.  His
chest was stretched hard. A pretty spread of chest hair gathered at a point
below my father's pectorals, becoming a shadow that fell across his tight
stomach, running around his navel and flooding into his pants.
	When he removed the pants, I could not recall the last time I had
seen dad in just his tight briefs. Usually he wore short boxers. I eyed my
dad, taken with his physical magnetism. My eyes met his tremendous
bulge. He wasn't erect, just damn well packed. His thick thighs seemed to
help project the large basket of man meat that dangled between his legs. I
realized I was looking at my dad with a more serious boy lust than I had
ever before felt for him.
	He turned from me to plunge into the familiar pond. Dad was great
fun in the water. Seldom did I ever get to see him so relaxed. It was a
special moment between father and son.
	Dad and I were really playing like kids and having a bonding
experience when I heard Uncle Lyle's horse a close distance from us. We
turned in the water to watch Uncle Lyle swing off his horse and walked to
the edge of the large pond. I compared the two brothers.
	Uncle Lyle was about five years younger than my dad, and although
he wasn't as muscular, he was taller and slimmer.  He cut a smart figure,
with sea blue eyes highlighting his face and a strong jaw jutting out to a
point. He had a friendly, comforting smile. He wasn't as boldy handsome as
my dad, but he had an attractive edge, with a strong cowboy look.
	"Kirk, I thought you were heading to my place to help me out," my
uncle asked me.
	"Darn, I forgot, Uncle Lyle," I said, remembering that I had
promised to help design the new Rivers Run Ranch name sign.  Dad's offer
for the swim had blocked out everything else.
	"Just can't find any good help anymore," my uncle teased. "How
about tomorrow?"
	"Sure. I'll be there first thing after school, Uncle Lyle."
	Uncle Lyle was about to turn around to turn to walk away from the
lake when my dad spoke up.
	"Hey Lyle, didn't you say you had some hay that needed moving out?
I think Kirk could get over there and gather it up for you there in the
barn."
	"Dad!" I cried, much to Uncle Lyle's amusement. "I've just finished
my chores around here; I've just washed the dust off; I've got homework;
there's a television show..."
	"Forget it. Maybe a little hard work will help your memory next
time. You shouldn't have forgotten that appointment with your Uncle Lyle,
son."
	"Yes sir," I replied, knowing dad was just trying to make me more
responsible. I looked at him closely. My eyes bathed over his wet face and
thick chest. My dick pulsed. I knew deep down that I did not mind the work
nearly as much as I regretted Uncle Lyle interrupting dad and me.
	My dad swam toward the pond's edge. He was talking to Uncle Lyle
and about to get out of the water.
	"So Lyle, that hay is still there right?"
	"Sure Mitch, there's a couple of things the boy could do for me
over there tonight," my uncle replied.
	The image of dad lifting his wet body out of the water seared my
mind. I waited to admire the beauty of his middle-aged maturity... wet and
bulging.
	For whatever reason, a foggy picture of him and mom locked naked
together in a passionate embrace flooded my mind like waves rolling over
jagged rocks. But I didn't really see my mother, not her breasts or her ass
or even her face, but I saw dad... the tight, bulbous mounds of his heaving
chest being kissed... his large cock driving forcibly into her cunt... his
cute buttocks being clawed by her long nails... his naked body rocking back
and forth inside her.
	 But instead of getting out of the pond himself, dad turned and
told me to get out, dry off and go over to Uncle Lyle's place to finish the
chores. Dad remained about chest deep, about 10 feet from the shore. The
water's surface lapped at him just below his tits. I wanted to take a
picture of him there.
	Breaking my focus, he splashed water toward my uncle and asked, "In
a hurry, Lyle? Got time for a dip?"
	I got out, dressed, got on my horse, nudged it ahead and started
out toward my uncle's place.  When I was about 50 yards away, I looked back
to see Uncle Lyle dive into the pond to join my dad. Uncle Lyle was
naked. I hesitated just a second to enjoy the sight of two older men
enjoying each other's company as brothers. The way they began to wrestle
around, they could have been my age.
	I felt fortunate to have two strong men around me like the two of
them. But if I hadn't known better, I could have sworn my dad was getting
to get rid of me.

	7 -- Who's Stall ing

	Regardless of why dad had sent me off to do chores at my uncle's, I
could not resent dad's good raising and his desire to enstill a sense of
personal responsibility in me. Forgetting to help Uncle Lyle was not the
best of things to do, if I'd wanted to impress them about any abiding sense
of priority about the ranch.
	But after having seen dad almost naked and wrestling around with
him in the water, I knew I'd choose the physical encounter over the duty
and responsibility.
	The barn was a perfect place to whistle while I worked. I picked
out a couple of old rock and roll songs and started imitating several
instruments along the way. I moved hay, swept the place out and put several
tools and farm implements back in their proper places.
	A good sweat broke from my body. The hard work around the farm,
decent eating habits and an occasional workout in the college weight room
had given me a fairly attractive and budding body. I took off my tee shirt,
wiped the watery terrain of my chest, took a deep breath and looked around
at the vast improvement I had made in the looks of things. Like always, I
found great motivation knowing I was accomplishing something for our
family's ranching interests.
	Upon finishing, I was just about to walk out of the barn, when I
heard a noise in the far corner. Then, I heard a voice.
	"Trying to put me out of a job," the strong tenure voice asked.
	I looked around. The dim lights overhead and tiny streaks of light
coming through cracks in the barn's wall allowed me to see a crop of brassy
hair, but shadows covered the rest of the face and body.
	"No, I didn't know anyone else wanted this job," I quipped. "Who
are you?"
	"Brad... Brad Eyckland."  I knew the name, although we had not met,
not officially that is. I realized Brad had been one of the new, young
hands that Uncle Lyle hired. But most of all, I remembered Brad from
school, although it wasn't likely that he remembered me. He had been five
or six grades ahead of me, but with all the students going to one school on
a single campus in Dover Springs, I had not missed him.
	As Brad walked toward me, I started to realize why I remembered him
and that was because of how damn sexy he was. I had idolized him before he
dropped out of school during his junior year.
	His sterling green eyes were so penetrating, his shoulders squared
nicely and featured hunks of muscle, and his partially unbuttoned denim
shirt showed off a gorgeous deeply tanned chest. I saw the curve of his
pecs and tried to get a glimpse of his breast. The mass of sexy, brown skin
under his shirt stirred my cock.
	"It looks like to me that you are coming in here behind me and
trying to make me look bad," Brad said to me. I realized that he was pissed
or sure acting like it.
	"Hey, I was told to do this," I said in defense.
	"Told? Who told you?" He asked.
	"My dad, Mitchell Rivers, and my Uncle Lyle," I answered before
realizing that Brad had his fist balled up and was looking straight at
me. We were the same height, but he seemed so much bigger. I was beginning
to feel anxious and paranoid about the situation when Brad started to grin.
	"Oh, so you're the boss's kid," he said and chuckled.
	"I'm Kirk." But before I could say anything else, Brad interrupted.
	"So, you're the product of Mitchell Rivers' loins," he said and
again he chuckled. "The boss's boy," he added.
	I could see that Brad was thinking about something, but most of
all, I was glad he had relaxed. His fist unfurled; I studied his long,
manly fingers.
	"So, Mitchell Rivers is your daddy," he said, inquiring again as
though he needed assurance.
	"One in the same," I replied.
	Brad looked me over. I wished I had put my tee shirt back on. While
I knew I looked pretty darn decent, I did not consider myself any
comparison to his own magnificient physique. Still, Brad let his eyes
linger somewhere between my nipples and my navel.
	"Hell, I think your papa is just about the finest rancher this
region has seen in a long, long time," Brad replied.
	"Thanks," I said. "I agree, I..."
	Brad interrupted, "Now that I know who you are and that you had
orders to be here, well, what say we be friends?"
	Brad extended his hand and we shook.
	"Yes, friends, good," I said.
	I noticed Brad's denim shirt hanging open as we shook hands. His
chest was pretty, smooth and unblemished. I got a glimpse of his bulbous
pecs before he let go of my hand and straightened back up. Our eyes locked.
	"And, thanks for the work you just did. It'll make my job easier
tomorrow," he said.
	"My pleasure," I said before realizing how dorky that sounded. I
added, "And my pain."
	Brad then looked around to survey the rest of the barn. As I stood
watching, he went over to the barn door and looked out. He closed it and
turned to me.
	We chatted nervously for a few seconds, but Brad cut the chase. He
turned to me and in a confident manner said, "I think I can guess you're
interests, and I think you should know mine!"
	At that moment, Brad embraced me, collapsing his face down on
mine. His hand wrapped around my back, drawing my bare upper body into
him. His lips found mine and his tongue probed inside.  Brad leaned me back
and kissed me hard. I returned the kiss, knowing I wanted to go further
with this sexy hunk of a man.
	Brad's firm right hand pushed its way up the middle of my stomach
and fanned out across my left pectoral. His tongue dug into my mouth; his
other hand went behind me to pull my ass toward him; our crotches rubbed
against each other. I could tell he was big, but maybe not fully hard.
	We kissed for a long while, exploring each other's bodies. I was
fascinated by the amount of muscle across his chest and upper back. He
liked kissing me; he sucked down the length of my neck and back up it and
across my throat and right on down to flirt his tongue across my nipples.
	The barn was almost pitch black, but I could imagine the incredible
sight of Brad's fat tongue lapping up my wide brown tits. Sexual flashfires
torched my young body; love bumps popped up all over, up and down my legs,
across my belly, even on the patch of my nipples. Bumps, everywhere,
showing the excitement that Brad had generated within me.
	In the darkness, I struggled to free the remaining buttons on his
shirt. He unsnapped my jeans and pulled them wide to run the zipper down
its track. I spread his shirt open and got my first feel of his meaty
chest. His years of hard labor had served him well. My desires were to
discover his body, all the things about it, but instead, Brad was much the
aggressor.
	As soon as he tore my jeans open in front, his big, rough hand went
to my crotch. He squeezed my swollen cock, putting my balls on to boil. His
palm cupped me and tightened down around my basket; he rubbed and squeezed
just enough to make me moan. The more he rubbed, the louder I moaned. He
reached up and tucked my mouth into the nape of his neck.
	"Ready, ready for something more, big boy," he asked me.
	"Oh yes, oh yeah..." I moaned mindlessly.
	But Brad wasn't just talking, he wanted an answer. He wanted me to
agree to exactly what he was doing. I could not imagine wanting anything
more. My mind raced out of bounds, but I heard Brad breathing heavily and
asking me, "Want me to go on further?"
	"Sure, yes, of course I do," I replied.
	 Caught up in the moment, he muttered, "Doing special things with
Mitch Rivers' boy."
	Damn! I wish Brad had not mentioned my father's name. Still, it
didn't matter for long because my mind couldn't register anything else once
Brad pulled my shorts down, allowing my steel-like dick to jut out
freely. My cock waved around, but only for a couple of seconds. Brad
wrapped his calloused hand around its skin and began to explore the length
of the shaft. I grunted and push my hips toward him, piercing his solid
fist with my swollen rod.
	"Nice! Really, really nice, Kirk," my new lover said to me as he
stroked my cock, going up and down its sensitive ridges. "Let's lie down,
together. Come on, I have a place."
	Brad turned on just enough light to lead me to a stall. He had a
large pillow, a bedroll and his other belongings arranged neatly there. I
finished undressing and moved down to the floor of the barn, knowing I had
thought that everybody on a farm must screw at least once in the barn in
their lifetime.
	We stretched out on the bed roll, sharing the pillow between us. I
bucked my hips upward, giving myself fully to the wonders of Brad's
massaging hand. Brad stroked and pumped me with one hand, and with the
other he reached up and found my tingling nipples.
	He caressed them and pulled at their very tips with his nails.
With his mouth, he began to lick over my belly, into my belly button and
around my pubes. The pre-cum began to leak from my cock. I knew that Brad
was working me up beyond my control.
	I tried caressing and feeling his body in return, but his
dominating style prevented me from doing much. The powerful, yet sensuous
feeling of a wave churning as it rolls for shore overwhelmed my entire
body. The charges of sex stirred in my toes, along my legs and thoughout my
crotch. Brad brought out bestial feelings in me as leaned down and again
sucked at my belly button, while caressing my drippy cock in one hand and
pinching my hard tits in the other.
	I cried out. He chuckled, but drilled down on my belly button with
his long, pointed tongue. My mind raced into an orbit of erotica while Brad
turned me on beyond compare there in the dark expanse of the barn.
	My cum began deep within me. I reached out to grab at Brad's
muscular arms. The orgasm whipped at my ass; the rush of the cum syrup
opened up my canals and passages of sexual splendor; the slit of my cock
opened wide; and I raised my hips so Brad could have unrestricted access to
my loins. At that point, one hand whipped my dick, the other played at my
balls.
	I moaned. I groaned. And my cum rushed forth.
	In the rush of orgasmic wonderment, I grabbed at Brad's jutting
dick and pulled it to my mouth. With my cum spilling between his fingers,
Brad positioned himself into a comfortable 69 with me. His jutting dick
sank into my warm mouth; I sucked him down and swallowed his head. He
hissed to control the charges of human delight that raped at his balls,
ass, cockhead and belly.
	"Yeah... Brad... oh yeah, my friend... scuk me... suck me down
deep... suck me way on down in your throat... suck me, friend... suck all
of that thick dick of mine!"
	He then collapsed his hot mouth down to kiss and lick at my spent
dick while pumping his cock down my throat. I bumped my spent cock toward
him; he tasted my leftover spillage. I held my palms upon his hot, fleshy
buns; he tongued between my legs; I teased his sexy cockeye with the point
of my tongue; he sucked at my balls; and then I felt him flex.
	"Comin'... oh, I'm coming, Kirk!"
	I thoroughly enjoyed grabbing Brad's tight ass and forcing his cock
into the tapered end of my throat. His balls vibrated against my chin,
almost pushing into the under side of the man's belly. I was sure I could
feel them release their treasure. Just after the unique jerk, Brad's warm
liquids ran into my throat.
	"Take me... Take me, young Mr. Rivers," Brad hissed. His savory
semen washed down the pipe of my throat; his balls jangled against my skin;
their hairs tickled my nose; and Brad moaned from the pleasure that wrecked
his body.
	"Oh, that's good... nice and hot and tight..." Brad mouthed on as I
sucked all of his cummy seed. I saw his puckered nipples and couldn't
resist them. My thumb and forefinger snapped one up and twisted it nice and
tight, just as my mouth finished off the last of Brad's cum.
	We lay together a long while, kissing, caressing, playing
around. When Brad turned and began to eat my ass out, I gave him full
access. I held my buns open wide so his powerful tongue could cleanse every
nerve of my rectal passage. His tongue snaked me out as well as I have ever
had that done, yet just when I thought he was going to screw me, he turned
away.
	"It's best if you wait... and anticipate... really want it," he
said and smiled.
	"Please Brad. Go ahead."
	"Nah, let's wait for that," he said and he plunged his middle
finger up my butt. He worked it around and around, exciting me greatly, and
getting my long rod to stand up for attention.  With Brad's fat finger
worming me out and his other hand jacking me off, it didn't take long for
me to shoot a second load. My long cock quivered and quaked in short order.
	"Shoot it, Kirk. Oh yes, shoot that Rivers cum out there, oh yes,"
Brad panted as we both watched my cock shoot off. When I finished, Brad
leaned up, took his own dong in his hand and then beat it off in a heated
fury.
	"Pinch my tits, help me," he ordered, having caught me enjoying my
own cum and the sight of him hammering at his heated erection.
	"Sorry... sure, here," I said as I sat up, located his tits and
began to twist at them.  The meaty nips delighted me. I leaned down and
began to nibble on Brad's right one. It stuck up for all the attention it
could get. I chewed at its hard peak. Brad screamed of passion, beat even
harder at his tight pecker, grunted and flexed his buttocks, and the cum
flew out of him.
	We fell into the bedroll together.  Our bodies were sapped. We
embraced, kissed and dozed off. I remember his hand playing lightly across
my chest when I shut my eyes.

	8 -- Uncle Lyle

	By all accounts, I only dozed off a short while, maybe 30
minutes. But even when I first awoke, I had the impression that someone had
been in the barn. Being naked, I knew I felt a little uneasy and, no doubt,
the aftermath of having made it with Brad, right there in the damn stall,
also had me feeling paranoid.
	I gathered my things, dressed, leaned down and shook Brad lightly.
	"I've gotta go. Gotta get home," I said.
	"Hey, thanks. Maybe again?"
	"Sure," I said. "I'd like that."
	"Me, too," Brad said. He paused, grabbed me by the arm, leaned up
and kissed me. He then said, "Don't let your old man suspect
anything. About us, that is."
	"Don't worry about him." I said.
	"Then tomorrow? Right here?" He asked.
	I smiled and said, "Sure, if my Uncle Lyle ain't around."
	He squeezed my arm and then I left.
	The encounter with Brad had been marvelous. It had been a long time
since I had been involved with Bobby or his dad. The spontaneous sex with
Brad had been great for me.
	I thought about Brad all that night and all the next day. Dad even
stopped talking to me at the breakfast table when he realized that I wasn't
listening to him. I thought about how Brad and I had met, how he had kissed
me with such passion, how he had eaten my dick and, above all else, how he
had sucked from my ass. In that one fuck session, he had driven me wild. I
wanted to see him again.
	When I went over to Uncle Lyle's place to help him design the sign,
I arrived early and scouted out the barn. To my disappointment, Brad wasn't
available. I searched the stall, and was surprised to see his things
gone. I lingered, thinking about the hot sex we had shared between those
boards just a day ago.
	When I left the entrance to the barn, I saw Uncle Lyle coming from
off the surrounding porch of his house.
	"Looking for me," he asked.
	"Ah... yes," I said. Then, I thought about really wanting to know
where Brad was and when he would be returning. I asked, "Where's the crew?
Ah... the younger one named Brad told me to stop by and say hello. I met
him last night."
	Yeah, he was a great worker. Hell, I thought a damn fine, young
man," my uncle said. "But, I fired his ass."
	"You what?" I asked in a stunned voice.
	Uncle Lyle studied my reaction. He continued looking at me, and
although his eyes had a concerned expression, a smile broke across his
lips. At that point, he reminded me of Clint Eastwood.  "Don't worry I gave
him some severance pay. He'll be okay, but he pissed me off."
	"How? Why?" I asked.
	"Let's just say he should learn to separate his personal life from
business. But Kirk," my uncle said, reaching up to grab me on the shoulder,
"You look like you lost a friend." My uncle's statement was phrased like a
question; he had obviously noticed my sense of loss.
	"No, not really," I was quick to reply. "But is there any chance he
will be back?"
	I looked at my Uncle Lyle and looked away so he could not read me
too well. But he did not let the subject drop. He walked over to me, put
his hand on my shoulder, and said, "I thought you said you just met Brad;
seems there was something more than just a greeting... perhaps..."
	I interrupted, "No, no Uncle Lyle. I... I... forget it!"
	Uncle Lyle winked at me, patted me on the shoulder and interupted,
"Come on, Kirk. Let's go inside; I'll pour us some coffee."
	 As Uncle Lyle topped my cup a second time and sat the coffee pot
on the heating holder there in his kitchen, I told him how much I liked the
brew.  But he didn't respond. Instead, as soon as my manly uncle placed the
pot down, he turned toward me, cleaned his throat and said, "Kirk, you know
you're just my nephew, but I think you also know that in many ways I love
you like a son, right?"
	"Well, sure Uncle Lyle," I said, his qualifying remarks causing me
to become nervous.
	He cleared his throat and reached over to grab my hand. It seemed
so natural at that point for him to hold my hand.
	"Kirk, ah, I need to let you know some things." My uncle paused.
	I asked, "What things, Uncle Lyle? What gives?"
	A sheepish look overcame him. He stuttered a bit then released a
round of air from his lungs.
	Changing positions in his seat and grabbing my hand even tighter,
he said, "I walked in on you and Brad alseep there in the barn yesterday."
Without a doubt, I looked horror-stricken because my uncle put his other
hand on top of the hand he was holding. He began rubbing up my arm. "Hey, I
thought the two of you," my uncle hesitated, then added, "well, I thought
you and Brad were beautiful. I wanted to look over every square inch of
your body, boy, but Brad had you covered up pretty much and I wasn't going
to be no voyeur... at least not without permission."
 	After the thunderous wave of surprise washed over me, I replied, "I
guess it was pretty dumb of me and Brad to fall asleep."
	"It was pretty obvious you two young studs had exhausted yourselves
with each other," my uncle said. "Hay wasn't the only thing I could smell
around that stall."
	It occurred to me at that point just how calm Uncle Lyle seemed
about having found his nephew naked in a barn stall with the hired
help. Still, he had fired Brad.
	"But why did you have to let him go?" I asked.
	"Because I was jealous. Brad had promised me that I would be his
only lover as long as he worked here," Uncle Lyle said, sending yet another
round of shock waves running through me. My uncle had admitted that he and
Brad had been getting it on. A mental image of the two of them going at
each, hot, hard and naked flashed through my mind.
	And then, my Uncle Lyle explained to me that he understood the
mental anquish and emotional toll I had been suffering. He understood it
damn well.
	Uncle Lyle summarized: "When all the rumors spread around town
about you and Stan Matra and then about you and that Chandler young 'un,
well... there was reason," he paused for a long while.
	"Reason for what?" I asked.
	He finally continued, "Reason why me and your pappy were there to
protect you. Your momma wanted to tan your ass and send you to military
school, like that's going to cure you! And your fuckin' Aunt Brenda wanted
to make sure you never associated with our children. But that wasn't going
to stop me... or your father from protecting you."
	Uncle Lyle then explained how my situation became the catalyst to
boil the long-time trouble in both marriages. A lot of guilt was about to
fall heavily upon my shoulders until my Uncle Lyle got up, came around
behind me and again squezed me on the tops of my shoulder. He started
rubbing my shoulder muscles. His hands felt great.
	"...Ya know, your father was too good to be bitched at like your
mom used to get after him. To be as strong and commanding as he is with
other men, he sure gave in to her a lot. But Kirk, you need to know son,
well, you need to know that..."
	And then silence filled the air. I couldn't believe Uncle Lyle had
paused again. I couldn't believe the conversation at all much less where it
might be going, but I was damn impatient.
	"Know what? Damn it!" I demanded.
	"Well, just like me and you, your father also prefers the company
of other men."
	"Ohmygad!" I exclaimed, jumping from the chair, feeling a strange
net of comfort and excitement sweeping the butterflies from my stomach. My
nuts steamed as I thought about my father --perhaps the most physical of
Dover Springs' leading men -- preferring the guys to the gals.
	"Yes," my uncle said shaking his head to the affirmative.
	"Dad?" I asked needing continued confirmation.
	"Yes, your tough, handsome father, Mitch Rivers, one in the same."
	"Why didn't you both live your lives before now?" I asked.
	"Well, we just tried to enjoy the ladies for a while... and well,
we both also knew that for our time, 25, 30 years ago, you didn't come out
of the closet and stick around Dover Springs. And there were our parents
who wanted us to be here and to work this land."
	"And so, you both got married to have a family and try to turn your
backs on what you really felt?" I asked.
	"That's pretty much it. Your dad doesn't regret it one damn bit
cuz' he got two great sons out of it."
	When Uncle Lyle made that statement, waves of love washed over
me. All of a sudden, I felt a renewed appreciation for my father; and the
empathy shown by Uncle Lyle was an amazing feeling also.
	My uncle and I talked a long while. We enjoyed a couple of cigars
together, ate some leftovers and lost the time. Uncle Lyle told me about
his and dad's childhood in Dover Springs. And he told me about him and
Brad.
	"Your Aunt Brenda had cut me off; hell, I hadn't even gotten off
with Freddie Fist," my uncle chuckled, before continuing, "Anyway, I was
horny. Ready for most anything."
	He stopped, ran his hand through his hair and took a heavy
breath. I felt a lot of love for my uncle. I reached out and rubbed his leg
just above the knee. He smiled, and told me more about Brad.
	"Then, Brad showed up at my ranch needing to make a few
dollars. Well, three days later, he and I were working outside together in
the hot sun, he stripped off his shirt, and I couldn't keep my cock down."
	As soon as I heard Uncle Lyle begin the story, I wanted to ask
questions, but I did not interrupt. Instead, my own long-hanging dick
started a slow swell.
	My uncle recalled: "Before I knew it, Brad had brought back all of
the old feelings... not brought them back, I mean, I'd always had them, but
he lit those fires. And I think within just a few minutes, he knew I was
eyeing his pretty face and big, solid chest cuz he began to flirt with me."
	Uncle Lyle stopped. He wanted me to beg the question.
	"What did Brad do?" I asked, now feeling outright sexually excited
in my uncle's presence.
	"We were both sweating, and I went to wipe my brow when, right out
there alone on the range, Brad looked at me and said, 'I think we'd both
like it if you'd shimmy out of your shirt there, Mr. Rivers. Come on, join
me'."
	"And?" I said to encourage my uncle to tell me more.
	"Hell, I couldn't believe my ears," Uncle Lyle said. "I liked him
asking, but well, you know, I ain't quite got the upper body that Brad or
your old man has. So, I shrugged him off."
	"You look good enough," I said.
	"And when did you notice, young man," my uncle asked, a wide beam
of a smile crossing his face.
	"Yesterday at the pond... and before that. But you know, neither
you or dad go around the ranch a lot without your shirts."
	"I guess it's that Rivers' modesty," my Uncle Lyle said. "In fact,
that same modesty is why I told Brad that while his question didn't bother
me, I didn't have his build or youth to be showing off."
	"And so, it ended there," I said, somehow feeling disappointed.
	"Oh no, it didn't end there. He just got up, and started
unbuttoning my denim shirt for me. A button at a time, I stood there and
watched him do it." Uncle Lyle stopped. His face was drawn; sexual need
registered across his eyes and lips.
	I looked down and saw a bulging outline in Uncle Lyle's jeans. My
own swelling stretched my pants; and I was damn horny because of Brad. In
almost a trance-like state, I moved real close to my Uncle Lyle, reached up
and took the top button of his denim shirt between my fingers.
	"Did I hear you say that you watched Brad... button-by-button?" I
asked. And to my own astonishment, I undid the first button on my uncle's
shirt and said, "Like this?"
	Uncle Lyle watched me. He did not move.
	"And this?" I asked again as I reached and undid the second
button. "Come on Uncle Lyle," I insisted now in a real dream-like state,
"tell me more about what Brad did."
	To my delight, Uncle Lyle accommodated me. I got to the last button
of his shirt, and my Uncle said, "And then Brad spread my shirt open wide
and ran his strong fingers up to my chest." The pace of my uncle's
breathing had quickened, his low baritone slowed in rythmn.
	To his delight, I spread his shirt open wide and began to run my
hands and fingers up his chest. He was an attractive man with the sexy
torso of a swimmer. His chest wasn't hairy like my dad's and it wasn't as
muscular, but still, it was smooth and sensuous and had pretty defining
lines circling the pecs.
 	"...And all around," my uncle said. I knew my fingertips were
turning him on. The pant was now very evident in his deep voice. "And Brad
went round and round, up and down, his fingers worked me like Brenda's
never worked me!"
	Damn, it was amazing to see how similar our chests were.  My
fingers circled my uncle's hot chest, noticeably avoiding prolonged contact
with his dark nipples.
	My Uncle Lyle directed me further, telling me more about Brad had
done to him. "So Brad kept caressing my chest and belly until he had me all
hot and bothered. Right out in the open range there."
	Uncle Lyle watched as I kneaded his chest, working his flesh under
the mounds between my thumbs and palms.
	"What else... what else, Uncle Lyle," I said, now feeling my cock
sticking out proud and wanting my uncle to go further.
	Almost under his breath, he said, "Then he started fingering my
tits."
	When my uncle said, "My tits," I knew my balls quacked.
	"Like this," I asked again, letting my fingers descend upon his
alluring gumdrop nubs.
	Uncle Lyle's lips blew a rush of air, sending out a low whistle.
"Yes, oh yeah, like that," Uncle Lyle said as he leaned his head back,
enjoying the arousal my fingertips brought to his small tits. He whispered,
"And that set me on fire."
	My fingers went after the dusky nipples. I caressed and teased my
uncle's tits for a minute or longer, the whole while watching his cock
throb inside his pants. My uncle closed his eyes and swayed to the caresses
across his mannips. I played with and studied the pretty paps, forcing them
to perk up tight. They knotted and drew up smaller.
	"And what did Brad do next, Uncle Lyle?"
	Instead of answering, Uncle Lyle stepped back, shook his head and
said, "No, that's all!" My uncle tried to shake the lust that had entraped
us. He stopped my knuckles from squeezing at his puckered nipples.
	"No, that wasn't all, please, tell me more... tell me more, Uncle
Lyle," I pleaded. I reached to play again with his left tit and sneaked my
other hand down to tease his belly. He sucked it in, making me wonder if I
should go lower.
	"Look Kirk. Like I said, Brad and I made it. But, I can't take this
with us any further." My uncle said, watching my hands caress his body.
	"I can," I said.
	Using the back of my right hand, I swept it over the outline of my
uncle's dick. Even though his jeans separated my hand and his cock, my
uncle gasped as soon as I touched him. I moved my hand back over the
outline and he gasp again. On the third pass over, I turned my hand around
and grabbed my uncle with the open side of my hand.
	My warm palm closed around the outside of his dick. I squeezed and
then leaned in to kiss my uncle. To my delight, he drew me to him, and
kissed me hard. My hand discovered his covered cock.
	Our kiss went deep; I stayed with his dancing tongue, hard-pressed
lips and moist exchanges. I knew I'd long remember this first intimate kiss
with Uncle Lyle, continuing as I manhandled his cock. His hips impaled his
lower body into contact with mine.  When we parted lips, he looked at me,
and said, "That feels great, Kirk. Real good."
	"You're damn fuckin' fine, Uncle Lyle."
	Uncle Lyle used his hand to cover mine that worked his hidden
cock. His facial expressions ran hot for 10 or 15 seconds while he
encouraged me to squeeze at his pecker.
	My own cock was like a steel rod, sticking out so fucking hard in
my jeans. My bubble sauce had painted a large spot on my underwear.
	Uncle Lyle squeezed my neck with the one hand that had been
caressing my arm. Then, he surprised me; he reached down and placed the
palm of his other hand right on my bulge. I moaned when his fingertips
squeezed down gently.
	He whispered, "I just had to feel you, son."
	"Your hand feels real nice right there," I said with air rushing
across my lower lip.
	"Right like this," Uncle Lyle said so seriously, his hand squeezing
my hardon through the coverings and exciting me greatly.
	"Yes, yes, like that..."
	"Like this?" He asked again before rubbing down the length of my
shaft and fingering at my nuts.
	"Oh... oh..." I groaned.
	"Yes, like this... like this," Uncle Lyle said, a large smile
crossing his face. I pushed my dick and nuts into and out of his palm,
feeling his fingertips digging into my balls.
	I groaned and felt my entire crotch held by his open palm. I shot
off! Only two or three small shots left my pecker, but I came. My uncle
held me while the orgasmic waves triggered and finished in me. My own palm
compressed my uncle's pulsating fuckpole as my wad spurted out.
	It was strange sex, but a close feeling. Uncle Lyle had not seen my
dick, and he had not seen my cum, only the spots dotting my jeans. I
reached down to unzip my uncle's jeans to finish him off, but he stopped
me.
 	"No, not that, Kirk. We must wait."
	"Come on, let me see your big dick, Uncle Lyle," I said.
	"No, we can't take this any further. At least not now."
	I tried forcing the issue, but Uncle Lyle held me off, his stiff
cock outlining his tight jeans all the while. (My uncle would later tell me
that he imagined shooting off right there. He considered dragging both of
our swollen cocks out of our jeans and rubbing them together in a fiery
motion, taking us both beyond our control, and then watching both sets of
our hairy balls boil over and the streams of Rivers Family cum mix
together.)
	But instead, he pulled my hand away.
	"Why?" I asked, again reaching out to feel the size of his swollen
cock, wanting to see it freed of the denim bonds. Wanting to see it eager
and needy. Wanting to make it feel good.
	He reached out, rubbed my shoulder and said, "Brad's got us both so
fuckin' horny we can't stand it. But we have to."
	"Please Uncle Lyle, please, we can keep it between us."
	"But I love your father too much."
	"What?" I exclaimed.
	Uncle Lyle stepped away from me, turned and began to button his
shirt. His voice committed, he said, "I have to respect your father as my
brother." My uncle let a long, effective pause come between us.
	His expression turned serious. He put both hands on the flanks of
my shoulders, looked at me directly and said, "You shit! Mitchell Rivers
loves you. And he's been the finest big brother I could ever have had..."
	I interrupted, "But what does that have to do with us, here, now?"
	"We should make damn sure that he doesn't want to be right where
I'm at, with the opportunity to make it with you first!"
 	I was dumbfounded!
	Uncle Lyle had his flat hand pointed at me, his clothes were now
tucked back in and he was intending to make the point that he had been
wanting to make with me for weeks. He shook his finger and added, "I've
seen how you look at your father, Kirk. Go home. Let him know your
interest. Seduce him!"
	"Are you serious, Uncle Lyle?"
	Uncle Lyle ran his fingers through his thick head and placed both
of his palms on the outside of my upper arms.
	"Yes. It might take days or weeks, but Kirk, you can enjoy a
special bond with your father."

	9 -- Brothers Together

	My Uncle Lyle told me that dad would not initiate anything out of
respect and honor to our father-son relationship. Uncle Lyle also told me
that I'd need to be patient. But, we both understood the prize.
	On the way home, I recalled Uncle Lyle having said that he thought
Brad had wanted to get into dad's pants. Now having thought about what Brad
had said about my father and knowing what Uncle Lyle said dad liked the
guys, I wondered if they had fucked each other.
	I trembled at the thought of both me and dad making love to Brad. I
then remembered the swim with dad and the couple of times our bodies had
pushed together, sending a quiver of mindless lust through me. I fantasized
about what it must have been like for my mother to be held and screwed by
the virile Mitchell Rivers. I thought about Brad seducing my Uncle Lyle out
on the range.  While I had assumed that Uncle Lyle would tip off dad about
our conversation and encounter, I did not expect my father to have been
called while I was en route from Uncle Lyle's place. But that's what my
uncle did. Obviously, he and dad did not keep secrets from each other.
	When I got home, I went straight to my bathroom to shower off the
dried cum and to get ready for supper. I was about to throw a pullover
shirt on, but decided against it, and instead gave my budding nipples a
tweak and walked out shirtless. For supper, I warmed the things the
housekeeper had kept out for me. Damn, I needed the vegetables. Double
helpings of carrots and spinach.
	After eating, I found dad in the den, leaning back in the lounge
chair with his reading glasses on. The light cast a sumptuous shadow across
his good-looking face. The top two buttons of his royal blue, sports shirt
were unbuttoned. My father looked so damn good in blue, with his sunken
crystal azure eyes. His looks of vigor and virility penetrated my sexual
sensors.
	 I recalled some of the church ladies saying that my father
reminded them of yesteryear movie stars like Gary Cooper and William
Holden, with some touches of JFK. Also, every time the newspaper or some
ladies club in Dover Springs named the area's Top Ten Best Dressed Men or
Most Distinguished Men, my dad was on the list. No doubt, now that he and
Mom had split, he would become one of the town's Ten Most Eligible
Bachelors. He once told me he hated those lists.
	Dad really was a masculine man, but with cute and sensitive
traits. A creased jawline of authority framed his pretty eyes and gorgeous
sweeps of dark hair. Sprinkles of gray in his hair and sparkles of azure in
his eyes provided extra attraction. I didn't have any problems
understanding that he was much the more appealing of my parents. Among the
locals, probably only Stan's father, Ben Matra, held a candle to dad among
the middle-aged men around Dover Springs.
	I stretched out on the couch, mindlessly watching the all news
channel that was on TV.  My dad looked over at me and asked, "So, any
design ideas for our sign and logo?"
	"Hell no," I said.
	"And why not?" He asked with a real sneaky smile showing at the
edge of his lips.
	"We got distracted," I admitted.
	"Shit, distracted!" he said. "Your Uncle Lyle talks too much."
	I thought that dad was upset, but instead, he got up, went to the
kitchen, grabbed a couple of beers, came back and passed me one. The icy
layer on the outside of my can of beer caused it to slip between my
fingers. I trapped it in the middle of my bare chest. The ice perked my
tits.
	"That's cold!" I exclaimed, taking the can in my hand and then
looking down at my wet chest.
	Dad chuckled. He reached over to his chair, grabbed a dinner cloth
he had just used and passed it to me. "Here, wipe your chest before you
have icicles hanging from your tits." He laughed as I grabbed the cloth.
	"Thanks, dad. And thanks for the beer. This is nice," I said.
	"You're damn, right," he said.
	Dad's phrase, "Before you have icicles hanging from your tits,"
echoed in my mind. The thought of my tits having caught my father's eye
excited me. Dad's reference to my tits excited me in the same kinky way
that Uncle Lyle had excited me when talking about how Brad had caressed his
tits or Bobby had when talking about his father's dick.
	Dad and I sipped our beers for a while.  Finally, dad cleared his
throat and said, "I should let you know that Lyle called me after you left
his place. Kirk, maybe I should have been the one... to have... well,
talked to you about things, but..."
	Dad tried to express his guilt for not having told me the family
secrets. His eyes met mine in a linking of minds and souls. I reached my
hand out and touched him on the arm. I interrupted him, "It's okay,
dad. It's cool."
	"Is it?" He asked.
	"Yes, and as things so happened," I said, avoiding reference to
Brad, "maybe it was easier for both of us for Uncle Lyle to have told me."
	The conversation took a distinct tone of understanding.  Knowing we
understood each other, Dad smiled at me and held out his hand. My hand met
his, we joined palms and our fingers interlocked.
	He gripped me hard and tight. He winked and smiled at me. I winked
and smiled back. Our hands pressed together. I noticed the manly hairs
growing from around his knuckles and over his wrist. We stared at each
other for several long seconds, then dad's eyes seemed to bathe over my
body.
	In a whisper that emphasized the beauty of his deep voice, dad said
to me, "I'm glad you're my son."
	We hugged a long while. His fingers massaged my back. Sexual
flashes heated my balls, but dad soon broke the embrace to get us another
beer.
	Dad told me several intimate details about himself, and he was man
enough to tell me about him and Uncle Lyle.
	"There just got to be the right place and the right time; I was 21;
Lyle was 18; we were a little drunk and well, one thing led to
another. Hell, I was engaged to your mother at the time, yet that strong
brotherly bond exceeded everything. Everything, Kirk. And so one day, the
right time, the right place, and... Lyle and I made love to each other. It
was genuine love. Great sex and good lovin'."
	Dad continued: "There were times when your uncle and I went several
months without sharing our intimacies... without messing around... without
each other's touch and passion. But, there were other times when the
attraction was just too strong.
	"Your Uncle Lyle sometimes found young men he enjoyed; I didn't,
oh, a few times I indulged, but I was scared of finding someone else that I
couldn't let go of. Regardless, neither me nor your uncle was married to a
woman who liked sex."
	But to my disappointment, after that beer, dad said "Well, we'll
have lots of time to catch up on all that. I need some sleep. Night, Kirk,"
And then, he left. Had he stayed, I might have asked about him and Brad.
	I was left alone and very horny. But I could not force the issue
between dad and me. He needed to make sure if he wanted to satisfy his
deep-seeded desires.
	* * * * *
	Neither dad nor I knew how things should be between us. We went on
about our daily lives for a few days. At night though, dad did not indicate
any interest of intimacy. A lot of disappointment consumed me.
	When Uncle Lyle and I started back working together on the sign and
logo ideas, I shared my sense of rejection. He reminded me to be patient.
	"Kirk, your father needs time," Uncle Lyle said, "Time to sort
through his feelings now that his son knows who and what he is. But don't
ever doubt that man's love for you, kid. Don't ever doubt it at all."
	Uncle Lyle leaned over, patted me on the back and added, "There
were times when I knew your mom and I were competing for your dad's
attentions. But there's never been a time that I doubted his overpowering
love for his two sons. Well Kent's gone with his momma. So Kirk, that
leaves the honor and pleasure to you. But be patient, my boy."
	Uncle Lyle and I had a stroke of creative genius and finalized the
ranch's sign and logo. The artist added a twist of his own, and the final
product really pleased my father. And that pleased both Uncle Lyle and me.
	At that time, thoughts of my father dominated my mind, but I tried
taming the fantasies. I knew I had to be realistic about the
situation. After all, my father could decide not to cross the line with
me. Regardless, whenever I saw Mitchell Rivers, my nuts went on a slow boil
and my pubes begged to be scratched.  Where gratification can be reaped,
patience is a virtue of which I have only a small portion.
	 During the next week, dad and I spent an unusual amount of time
together. We even saw a movie and went out to a bar together. He acted
young and vibrant. When working together around the ranch, we became a
little flirtaceous with each other. Still, because we had not become
intimate, I was having great difficulty comprehending my father as a sexual
animal in heat and motion with another man.
 	But two weeks after I first learned about dad and Uncle Lyle, I got
home from my evening class and was about to look in the refrigerator when I
spotted the message light on our recorder. Uncle Lyle had called to invite
me over for a steak. I knew I would be late, but I also thought I might
catch the grill still burning.
 	When I arrived at my uncle's place, I did not see anyone in the
foyer or in the living room as I'd expected. The house was dark except for
a glow coming from the hallway. I thought about calling Uncle Lyle's name,
but I thought maybe he was out back with the grill.
	I was about to head out the back door, when I heard the
unmistakable sounds of a man moaning. I swallowed hard. It was the same
sexy sound Uncle Lyle had made when I pinched at his nipples. I heard
strained voices, but when I got to within five or six feet of Uncle Lyle's
bedroom door, they sounded familiar.
	The door was ajar about a foot.  When I got right up to it, my cock
jumped into a raging salute, tearing to get out of my pants. Yes, I
recognized the voices!
	"That's it, little brother. Right there. Ride that shaft, baby
brother."
	"Yes Mitch... oh, argh... yeah!"
	My father moaned and cried out, "Take me, Lyle. Take all of me,
little brother... Argh! Argh! Damn! Oh damn!"
	Waves of heavy moans and groans emitted from the bedroom. My cock
stood wet and rigid. I couldn't restrain myself, I leaned so I could stick
my head around the door.  Even if but shadows, I knew the naked bodies were
my father and my uncle.
	The recognition that my dad was screwing his brother ranks among
the kinkiest thrills of my life. They were two men in love, enjoying the
throes of passion, thriving of creamy orgasm and displaying a long-time
knowledge of the other's body. I was not jealous; just glad that dad
appeared so open to things.
	I shivered at the thought of having heard my father scream of
cum. I could imagine the warm cummy strands bolting from his fat nuts to
splash into the anal depths of my uncle's hot narrow ass.
	Although I could see the naked outlines of their thriving flesh,
the room was too dark and I was too far away to see any detail. For a
second, I considered walking in and joining them. Maybe that is what they
wanted me to do, I thought, after all, they should have been expecting me.
	Instead, I closed the door, leaving them to themselves and
respecting their privacy.

	10 -- My Father, Myself

	A few days later, dad and Uncle Lyle were scheduled to be judges at
the state fair, but to my good fortune, Uncle Lyle couldn't make it. He
said he was having chills and fever. I suspect he was helping things along
between dad and me because he didn't look too sick and he conveniently got
the fair coordinator to pencil me in as his substitute.
	Dad and I arrived in the capital after a three-hour drive in which
his presence so close in the car had consumed me. The lust I was feeling
for the man was unbelievable. I kept remembering dad's thriving silhouette
in the shadows with Uncle Lyle. I kept seeing him shirtless and stripped to
his shorts at the pond. I kept looking over at him in the car, taking
freedom to glance at the large bulge in his pants and the outline of his
nipple against his pullover shirt. My balls were never shuting down when I
was around him.
	My luck got even better when we got to the hotel and learned that
Uncle Lyle's room had been cancelled. The desk clerk said they were booked
solid. Not only were dad and I sharing the same small room, but the clerk
looked at us and said, "Sorry, it only has one bed."
	Sorry? Not me, I thought. My balls began to tease the bottom of my
throat. My cock started a slow swell. Dad did not hesitate. He looked at
the clerk and said, "Well then, considering the circumstances, I guess
that's fine by me... just as long as Kirk doesn't steal all the covers." We
all laughed, and he and I headed to the room.
	We were both tired; we had made the trip after a morning of
catching up around the property.
	As soon as we shut the door, dad pulled his shirt from his pants,
placed his hands on the sides of it and pulled it off in a confident
manner.  He ran one of his hands through his chest hair, fluffing it out.
Damn, he looked good, I thought, a lot like William Holden.  He took a
couple of steps toward the bathroom.
	"Do you need to take a leak? If not, I'm heading for the shower."
	"Well yeah, I need to piss," I admitted.
	"Then, let's hit it," he said and grinned. After I'd pull my long
dong out of my pants, I hit the toilet with a heavy stream.  "You piss
harder than I do," he said, standing at the bathroom's doorway. "Your
mother was always bitching at me for making too much noise."
	"Mother bitched too much," I said.
	I glanced back to observe my father's loving expresion. The
softness and tenderness of his expression dominated his face. My eyes
lingered along the curves of his chest. He moved into the room with me and
began to unbuckle his pants.
 	Strangely, when I tucked my cock back in, Dad stepped out of his
pants to stand there in only his briefs, just inches from me. I could not
help but notice the bulge in his shorts. Dad was not erect, but the bulge
was hefty.
	"She always bitched at you too much for my liking," I added.
	I wanted to reach out and grab his mound. To discover him through
his briefs. To feel the fine slice of meat that had catapulted me into my
momma's womb. But instead, I could only manage a silent, loving stare at my
dad.
	"Thanks, Kirk," dad said breaking the electricity of the
silence. "And I appreciate you so much!"
	The magnetism between us was unbelievable. I knew my father was
about to step into the shower, and I knew that I should be excusing myself
from the small room. Instead, Dad reached out, grabbed me by the shoulder
and pulled me to him, then pressing his hairy, half-naked body into mine.
	The hug allowed me to feel the mound of his privates brushing
against the lump in my jeans. I settled my chin on his bare shoulder, with
his stack striking the crease of my leg.
	When I turned my face to my father and our eyes locked, I could
sense his desire. His eyes looked heavy with lust; his tongue licked his
lower lip in anticipation.  And in the most important transformation of a
second in my life, my lusty father turned his lips to mine, and he kissed
me long and hard. It was the most wonderful moment of my life.
	Our mouths and bodies locked together -- tight! The first time my
father opened his mouth to receive my probing tongue I thought my cock was
going to fire off from my pubic pad. And when my penetrating tongue wormed
into his mouth that first time, it caused a deep moan from within him. My
cock seeped its early fluids; his dick notched up a couple of beats.
	My hands slid up and down the sides of my dad's body before
spreading across his back and pulling him even closer into me.  Just
touching my father's bare body sent sparks flashing throughout my
balls. Willing... Thrilling... Chilling... Yet, warm and masculine. I
wanted to be naked, but regardless I knew I would remember that moment,
position and location forever.
	We broke our kiss to suck in air, but we kissed again almost
immediately. Hard and deep. Tongues dancing together and screwing into the
other's mouth.
	My fingers worked themselves to the elastic webbing of my father's
shorts. I stretched it out, allowing my hands to roam inside to his bare
buttocks. They were slick and smooth, a delightful contrast to his hairy
upper body.
	He shifted, with his throbbing boner pressing outward into my lower
body, striking me above my pubes and below my belly button. I leaned into
him again, kissed his lips and whispered, "I'm dying to see you naked,
dad... so hot and hard."
	"Oh Kirk, oh son," dad said.
	My fingers flirted with the elastic at the back of his briefs,
stretching it, letting dad know just how easy it would be to take the
coverings away from his cockstand. I looked at my father with a great deal
of love and desire.
	I whispered again, "Please dad, can I take these off you? Please?."
	My father looked down at himself. He could feel his cockhead
bubbling, leaking its greasy spittal from the corona. Dad looked at me and
then swallowed again. He shook his head and broke our embrace.
	"No, son. I need to be real sure of things."
	"Oh dad, please," I protested, placing my palms on his buttocks.
	"No, Kirk. You need to move, and I need to shower," he replied.
	His look told me I was not going to change his mind, yet I pleaded,
"Then, let me strip you just to get in the shower."
	"No!" He replied. We stared at each other. As though he needed to
apologize, Dad added, "I'm sorry, Kirk. At least, not here, not now."
	He pulled my hands from his ass, then waved his hand as though I
should leave the room. He turned his back to me, stepped into the shower
and closed the curtain, no doubt, to strip the shorts from around his
hearty loins.
	I tarried in the bathroom until dad parted the curtain with his arm
to drop his shorts on the floor. Again, he motioned with his hand for me to
leave. We had been so close. The image of his tight ass cheeks in the
shower echoed throughout my mind.
	My dad's ass bubbled; its crack pulled the eyes all the way down
and in. I recalled how smooth and tight his buttocks had felt when I ran my
palms inside his shorts.
	* * * * *
	We had gone out to eat and returned to the room. I was lying
comfortably in bed, stripped to my shorts, when dad emerged from the
bathroom. I assumed he had been preparing for bed, but instead he emerged
with a pullover shirt in his hand. Again I was overwhelmed by dad's
physical presence. He was standing only inches from me.
	As he pulled on the shirt, I took in the canyon of his hairy
armpit, the puffy peaks of his breasts and the valley between them. The
appeal of dad's broad chest made the fires roar in my nuts. Again, my eyes
took in the fullness of my dad's shadowy nipples. Their size and
protuberance made them look like little copper domes topping the meaty
shells of his chest. A tight bubbled tit capped the pretty domes.
	When Dad told me that he was going down to the bar for a drink and
then maybe to the lobby to watch television, I knew he had some thinking to
do.
	Getting to sleep was difficult. My mind kept reeling back to the
scene with dad in the bathroom. The kiss. The feel of his hairy chest
pressing against me. The touch of his ass against my palms. Yes, getting to
sleep was so very hard. Much to my astonishment though, when a dim light
struck my eyes, I realized I had fallen asleep and was again awake. At
first, I thought I was dreaming, but I knew I had to be awake.
	My father was pissing in the bathroom. The room's light filtered
out. I leaned over and turned on the dim bedside light on my dad's side of
the bed. I had no idea what time it was or how long he had been gone.
	Even as sleepy as I was, my heart raced immediately when Dad came
out of the bathroom.
	He wore only a pair of tight black briefs. My dick felt like it
tickled the bottom of my throat while I watched him walk across the room to
the bed. Dad slipped under the covers with me.  "You pissed too loud," I
said. We both laughed.
	"Thanks for turning on the light, Kirk. Sorry I awoke you."
	When the warm skin of our legs touched, my body trembled. I wanted
to snuggle into him, to kiss him again. Dad reached up to turn off the
bedside lamp.
	"No, leave it on a while," I said.
	"Oh, not sleepy now?"
	"I wanted to talk a while," I replied. "I feel a little guilty
about how far I tried to take things earlier."
	"No problem, Kirk. I'm just sorting things out myself."  Dad
smiled. Slowly, I edged into him, and then leaned over on my side to face
him, letting my crotch contact his thick, hairy leg.  And then, to my own
surprise, I heard myself whisper, "Dad, would you hold me?" Just like when
I was a little boy, my desire for my father's comfort had been voiced.
	Dad hesitated, but reached his arm around to pull me to him, "Sure,
I'll hold you, Kirk," he said and smiled. The top sheet rolled down his
chest as he wrapped me in his powerful arm. With exhilirating joy I
snuggled into the hallow of my father's hairy armpit. He squeezed me to his
body.
	We settled in for a short while, enjoying the exchange of heat
between our bodies. To my delight, dad moved first, shifting to stretch
out, placing the lower part of his right leg over the calf of my left
leg. He seemed particularly comfortable by the move. A few seconds later, I
shifted to wrap my right leg over his, noticing that my crotch had settled
next to his hip. And then, dad shifted to face me, his left leg coming
completely over mine.
	"Better?" He asked as he continued to swivel his hips, snuggling
our bodies together.
	And then, I found it. Dad's lazy hardon was pushed against my upper
leg, just inches from my own cock.
	"Yeah, much better," I said. He smiled. I smiled.
	The ease at which we had interwined our lower bodies transfixed
both of us. That powerful magnetism grabbed both of us, again. The warmth
radiating between us intensified. Our eyes locked. Dad's arm drew me closer
to him, my bare chest pressing into the soft hairs of his chest. Without
saying another word, I leaned in, pushed my lips to my father's, and again
we exchanged a hard, deep kiss that brought that familiar tingle to my
cockeye.
	I could tell dad had enjoyed a few beers in the hotel's
lounge. Whatever it took to relax him was fine by me.
	My cock pulsed out a beat at a time, growing longer and more
excited as the kiss continued. When our kiss ended, I looked closely at my
father's upper body in all its sexual beauty. I wanted to kiss him on his
chest, but thought that maybe I shouldn't. But as nonchalant as I could, I
edged my hand up on dad's stomach. He didn't say anything, so I began to
caress his belly.
	He allowed me to feel the curves, to experience the fine hairs
running under my palm and to circle the hole of his belly button. Dad did
not want me to feel rejected, yet when I tried moving my fingertips under
the elastic of his briefs, he grabbed my wrist.
	"No Kirk, not that, not now."
	I tried to persuade him otherwise, but he denied me on my second
effort. When I tried forcing my palm to his cock on a third attempt, dad
scooted away from me.
	Aggressively, I asked, "When dad?"
	"When what?" He begged the question.
	I did not back down. "When will you let me touch you there? Or see
you naked? Or caress your cock? "
	I knew the questions stunned dad. After a few seconds, he replied,
"I guess when you catch me, and I can't stop it."
	I grimmaced, but at least he had been honest.
	"Here," he said, squeezing me into him. "Just lie here and let's
relax together."
	"But, dad..." I tried protesting, but he glared down at me and
said, "We don't have to do everything at once. There are other ways to be
close. Like this right here." He hugged me tighter and let his fingers
settle on my upper chest.
	Still and quiet, I lay there in dad's arms for a long time. I
enjoyed the warmth of his armpit and the closeness of resting my head near
his immense chest. I looked up to notice that dad had shut his eyes. His
bottom jaw was parted. He was on the edge of sleep.

	11 -- Patience and Persistence

	I leaned up over dad to turn off the light and to surrender to
sleep myself. But I didn't expect the whirlwind of lust and human need that
overwhelmed me once I got on top of my father. I forgot about considering
consequences.
	Swept away by the need to love him, I looked down, studied the
pretty spot and descended my lips to discover my father's wide, puffy
nipple. I kissed dad's marvelous right tit and then licked around its
areola. I introduced myself to it and then I spread my lips and sucked the
textured pap fully into my mouth.
	My other hand moved with a will of its own through dad's silky
chest hair, lusting to feel dad's left tit. When I found it, the fleshy nub
rushed up to meet my fingers.
	I moaned, and then he moaned, and then we moaned together. My lips
sucked tight to my father's right tit, his sleepy eyes opening and dropping
down to watch.
 	Both of dad's tits were so damn mature, ripe, hard and sensitive
beyond belief. I was glad we had left the dim light on. It allowed me to
see the effects my pointed tongue was having on his splendid nipples. The
meaty nubs riveted to stick out a long ways.
	Dad shifted his position so I could get at him easier. I used my
free hand to reach under my father's breast to push the pec slab upward. He
moaned as my lips sucked down hard on his hearty tit meat. His fine, dark
nipple offered itself to me, leaving me without comparison of a tit so
stiff and perky.
 	The feel of the tittie's hot tip against my tongue sparked great
fires of lust in both of us. Dad jerked and moaned when I began to chew at
his succulent right tit. I used my index finger to tease his other nipple,
discovering every speck of its surface as though reading Braille.  The very
thought of having the meaty morsels of my father's chest in my mouth was
orgasmic. His fat nipples tasted sweet, yet salty. I loved them and wanted
to devour them as dad moaned deeper and deeper while my tongue and teeth
experienced his manly breasts.
	Like Samson about to bring down the house, my father grabbed the
bedposts with his hands, stretching his tits up and making them tight for
my bestial pleasures. The position displayed the total expanse and beauty
of his manly chest. Rushes of heavy air escaped from my father's lips.
	I sucked down harder on the sweetness of his mannip, enjoying the
sexy sounds that dad was making. My knee came up, allowing me to feel the
hardness of his dick. I could hardly believe how much I had my old man
turned on.
	"Shit that feels so good. So damn good," dad exhaled.
	"Your tits are fabulous, dad. Sexy, handsome and extra meaty." When
I made the right nipple sore, he rolled his body over, took his left tit
between his fingers and positioned it to my lips.
	"Don't forget this one, son," he directed.
	"The best," I added.
	He grabbed the bedposts again while I took the savory tit and
lapped it into my mouth. Except for maybe Stan, all of my previous lovers
had enjoyed tit play, but except for maybe Brad, none had nipples anywhere
near as thick as dad's.
	"Oh god, son. Yes... Taste my bosom there. Taste it!" His whispery,
raspy voice penetrated my sexual core.
	I moaned in reply, and Dad arched his chestplate to offer me a good
lapping and chewing of his tits. His wet tits were so damn excited that
their berry tips looked ready to burst. Indicative of the pucker that had
overtaken his tits, a low continuous hiss rose from deep within him.
	 My tongue left a river of saliva from tit crown to tit crown. His
chest became as wet as when he had showered.
	"Sweet, oh so sweet, Kirk." Dad moaned as he watched me nurse from
his tits. "But maybe we need to get this in control."
	Against my knee cap, I felt his cock pump up even another notch as
I worked his rosey tits. My sucking of his embossed nipples had sent dad's
fully fueled rocket to the launching pad. The incredible outline of his
hard pecker stood out from inside his briefs. His robust thighs provided an
appealing backdrop for his studly bulge. He had the fattest looking hardon
I'd ever seen.
	I wanted him. Really ached for him.
	"No control necessary, dad. I want to love you in every way."
	As my tongue swept through the hairs of his chest and downs its
vurves, dad groaned, and then replied, "And, I'm honored by your
interests." His gaspy words were like manna from above.
	My father looked down to inspect his long body and felt his cock
jerk inside his shorts. Before I could respond, he turned, brought his
thumb and forefinger up and grabbed me by my left nipple. He felt my tit,
getting to know it. I couldn't help the moan that escaped. He leaned in and
kissed me.
	"See, what I mean about control?" He asked when he broke the
kiss. He shifted position, moving back toward me. I could feel the familiar
throb overtake my shorts as I again started a slow discovery of dad's
ravishing body.
	Dad watched when I began to trace my fingers up his legs and over
his stomach, noticeably avoiding his bulge. When I hovered over him to
trace around his breasts, he hugged me to him. I pressed myself to his
hairy chest. He placed his hand on my back. I rolled over on him, we
pressed tightly.
  	"Damn, I like your chest next to mine," I said.
	"Wonderful, huh?" he replied.
	"Oooohhh yes."
	 Once again, my dick unfurled, filling with a river of hot, bloody
lava.  The time was right, so very right.  I lifted my buttocks, aimed my
crotch, thrust my hips and settled my hardon right into dad's turgid shaft.
	Our long covered cocks touched each other for the first time. They
were side by side, separated only by the thin fabric of our shorts. I could
feel the shape of dad's big dick.
	He exhaled again; I moaned; and again I wiggled and thrusted; and
dad held me so very tight, squeezing at my ass with his hands under my
shorts.
	"Yes son, oh yes..."
	"So good, dad. So good..."
	Again, the fluids came leaking out of my shaft, painting the
outside of my briefs. The contact of our round, weighty balls resting upon
each other charged me to even lustier heights.  I began to buck my hips to
send my cock up and down my father's sex. The feel and friction were out of
this world.
	"Oh son, oh my boy, this has gotten heavy," he said, the pant so
evident in his voice.
	I moved to lie down on top of his long, beautiful body. The meshing
of our bodies was unbelievable... my long legs wrapped around the thickness
of his... our cocks pushed at the fabric of our shorts, wanting at each
other by the skin only... our bare chests and bellies pressed
together... our hot nipples kissed at each other... our mouths and lips
locked tight. Dad smelled great, and he looked spectacular lying there in
only the bulging, black briefs.
	We kissed, and then to my total amazement he took me in his strong
arms and rolled me over. Our kiss went deeper, and we humped our crotches
together, letting our cocks feel the mutual burn. He was kissing me as
intimately as any lover has ever kissed me. He was a magnificient kisser,
and with his strong arms wrapped around me, he made me feel so very loved.
	I rolled dad over and then he rolled me back over. We were lost in
our love for each other; humping our cocks together in coordinated style,
burning down our lust.
	My lips trailed down his neck and up again. I could not get enough
of either the salty taste of his skin or the sensuous feel of his flesh.
	When we had exhausted the embrace, I leaned up to look into his
face. Never has a man looked so handsome and flushed of sexual splendor to
me as my father did at that point.
	Then, I looked down to watch our bloated dicks stabbing at each
other. I couldn't divert my eyes from the large mound concealed below. I
thought that with the least bit of movement, his cock crown would overflow
his shorts. Still, I couldn't see any of the flesh for which I so longed.
	"Oh dad.  This feels great," I said as I leaned up by him there in
the bed.
	"Yes, it is, son."
	Both of us knew what remained unsettled and undone.
	I again put my fingers in the elastic of dad's shorts, right at the
flanks. Looking at his sexy belly button and with a slow tremble, I asked
again, "May I dad? Please? Now?"
	Damn! I had waited so long to see my father nude and to see my
father's cock in all its sexual glory. But, I needed dad's reassurance to
go further. I again looked at dad in the eyes and asked, "Is it okay?"
	"Oh, Kirk... this embarrasses me."
	"But I know you're stunning, dad. Big and beautiful."
	Dad smiled at me. One of his hands flirted over his hairy chest,
playing in the hair and stopping to pinch at a tit.
	"Please dad," I said, letting my hands play with the elastic
webbing again. I felt so near to what I had waited years to see, to
experience, to love.
	We stared at each other, and then dad nodded at me, released a
tight smile and uttered the magical words.
	"Go ahead, Kirk... I guess it's inevitable."
	With his approval, I stretched the elastic band and began to lower
my father's shorts. Dad lifted his powerful hips, allowing me to edge the
black fabric from around his ass. Great charges of sexual currents flooded
me.  My father watched, with breathy anticipation, as I prepared to enjoy
the ultimate act of revealing his loins.
	I was careful to peel the elastic band down the delta under his
belly button, through his pubes and then out from the base of his powerful
cock. The couple of seconds it took to remove his underwear seemed in slow
motion.
	When dad's thick pubes came into view, I released an
uncontrollable, "Argh..."  When the base of dad's extended shaft was
revealed, I moaned. And when I maneuvered the black cotton briefs out,
beyond and down from my dad's mighty cock, I heard myself whisper,
"Damn... I can't believe it... so wonderful, so fuckin' wonderful." I was
mindlessly caught up in the spectacle of seeing my father's long, stiff
cock... my father's swollen pecker... dad's juicy dick.
	The elongated meat stuck out proud, ready to be inspected. It
dangled stiffly from its base, weighted by its own heft and the stress of
the hairy nutsac hanging below. I feasted upon the fleshy root that had
made me.
	His cockhead was bulbous; he was uncut, but his foreskin retracted
with ease. Dad's cockeye was wide and dark; the skin of his shaft was a
deep fleshy tan, with a blush of red; and the network of veins covering the
cock assured me that dad was still an amazingly virile man.
	His thickness caused his juicy cock to hang heavy. Indeed, I was
awestruck at the meaty presence of the shaft that had fucked my mother the
night I was conceived.
	Glancing downward, my father's ripened balls were covered by long
enticing hairs. I wanted to gather them between my fingers. Teasing me, but
also relieving some of his own embarassment, Dad shifted positions to let
me see his winsome ass. I hissed a slight whistle through my lips.
	"Oh dad... you're such a beautiful, beautiful man," I
replied. "Your dick and ass would be a sculptor's delight."
	I pushed the shorts down his powerful legs and removed them from
around his feet and ankles. When I looked back at my father, I took in the
full dimension of his dazzling nudity. As much as I wanted to drink in his
total physique, my immediate interests could not be on anything else but
the sheer beauty, power and might of my father's cock.
	After inspecting the long, brown shaft, my eyes again took in dad's
plumy nuts. They were large, looking like two brown golf balls waiting to
connect with their driver.
	"Oh dad. There's so much that I want to do with you," I remarked
caught up in the moment's lust.
	Dad shifted in the bed, allowing me the full view of his jutting
cock and his leathery bag of juicy nuts hanging between his meaty
thighs. His cock throbbed in front of me. He was a proud man.
	"Let me introduce myself," he said and smiled.
	Dad took my hand and led it to his pulsating dick. He gasp when I
wrapped my palm around it. Flesh to flesh.
	I found it! Found my father's bloated cock! Eureka! At last! That
joy of discovery. The ultimate discovery... of my own father's oversized
cock.
 	We collapsed back into each other; I quivered, enraptured by the
feel of my father's bare skin. The thrill of having my dad's dick in the
palm of my hand was almost enough to send me into a cum. My own cock
throbbed as I pressed myself into dad and began to stroke at his man meat.
	Dad's hip movements and gutteral sounds assured me that I was
massaging his marvelous cock in just the right places. I teased his cockeye
and worked proudly around the fleshy shaft. I forced him into a wet kiss
continuing to stroke his long cock into a lusty hardon.
	"Join me, let's get your shorts off," he urged.
	With dad's help, I had my underwear off in a second.
	"What I'd give for such youth, such beauty," dad said taking in the
size and sight of my own dick. His breathing intensified when I drew him
into a longer and deeper kiss. The ultimate excitement of being naked with
my father was driving me insane.
	He reached over to the nightstand and got some cream to help me
work his enormous shaft with the greatest of ease. But after only few
strokes by me, my father brought his own large hand up and gathered in both
of our cocks.
	"Yeah, it's time I take over, Kirk. Time that I take over."
	And to my amazement and to the depths of my sexual being, my father
caressed our cocks together in a wonderful, loving fashion. He bucked his
hips at me, sending his cockhead into my pubes. Just the mere thought and
excitement that my own father was caressing and greasing my dick was enough
to send me into sexual flight.
	I leaned down and began to suck from his tits. I felt his wet hairs
upon my lips as I sucked the mature, texture of the mannip into my
mouth. With dad stroking hard and tight at our cocks, my lips and teeth
began to chew at his manly nipples.
	"That's real good, but remember they're sore," he said as he worked
our cocks and balls together. "You sucked them tender."
	I eased up on the paps, but almost immediately, dad ordered, "Oh
no, don't stop," he said and pulled me back into his chest, encouraging me
to lick the tender tits. I bathed them like a Persian cat bathes itself.
	He worked our cocks with the precision of a master showman.  His
greasy hands massaged our cocks and balls into a steamy state. Our shafts
were especially rigid, our balls were wound tight and our bodies dripped
sweat. We were both panting when dad chuckled and said, "Look down there,
son. Damn it, if my son's fucking cock ain't a tad longer than his old
man's."
	By that time, dad had worked my pulsating dick and fully cooked
balls beyond my control. My dick couldn't have gotten any larger. It had
never felt so long in all my life. It had swollen and it was about to
overflow. I bit down on dad's nipple, let go of it and screamed, "I'm gonna
cum, dad. Gonna cum!"
	Dad pulled my bare buttocks to him, stroked my flaming hot cock and
shook the skin of my nutsac as my juices fired out of my balls and poured
out on his hand, arm and upper leg.
	"Ah yeah... shoot it, son! So much of my seed in there," dad said
expressing great joy at watching me cum.
	"Oh dad," I gasped as my cock shot off.
	"So good, son. That's it, Kirk baby... give me all of it," dad
urged.
	To my absolute astonishment, dad raked an index finger into his
belly button, taking a sample of my cum that had puddled there. He licked
it and then swallowed. "Nice, son. Very nice!"
	We rested for about a minute, but we were both aware that dad's
cock still raged between his legs.
	"Screw me, dad," I said.
	"What?" He asked.
	"Yes, yes, go ahead. There's no need for us to wait."
	I pulled him to me. My legs went up in the air and around his
shoulders.
	"Oh daddy, I want to fuck you so much."
	"Then, push it up, Kirk. Push that ass, baby," dad whispered his
voice wrought with sexual need. I bent my body double. Dad snuggled up to
me. He used the cream to make a tremendous lather in his hand that he used
to wax his tremendous shaft.
	He began to rub the mouth of my channel with his creamy fingers and
then he edged his middle finger inside my butt. I got lost in the
feeling. Dad prepared me with the finest finger action I had ever
experienced. I grew hard again.
	"Oh yes, Kirk. I do want to make love to you, son. To my dear, dear
boy."
	He then edged his heated cockhead down my balls to tease the
underside of me. He played his leaky dick at the mouth of my ass.  He
wedged my buns with his meaty knife, and he edged his steamy cockeye toward
the writhing asterisk of my ass. He found me. He pushed. And he penetrated.
	That first time, I moaned a lot while dad gently fucked me. He got
the bulbous crown of his enlarged pecker about two more inches in me before
I screamed of undeniable pleasure and again blew more cum from my own
cock. No other cock had ever brought me off so soon like that before.
	His cock was steaming. It was in need of a hard cum. Dad's balls
were pulled tight into his body. The look of sexual orgasm flushed his
face. His tits stood pointed and bursting of desire. And then, dad wiggled
his butt, reached up and found my perky nipples, twisted them, rotated his
manroot and hissed from the pleasure. He sank another inch of his
tremendous cock into my ass before gyrating his ass, drilling his manly
cock around and around my anal canal. He sucked at my neck.
	"Here we go, Kirk. Here we go," he said and then he withdrew his
swollen cock before slamming down into me, driving his enormous cock back
down and almost all the way inside. I grabbed the bed sheets and
screamed. His cock pulled out and slammed in again. I screamed again, bent
my fingers and clawed at dad's sweaty chest.
	Dad groaned and pumped me with another steady fuck motion, letting
me know that my ass was burning his cock, driving it into a state of
undeniable joy. My fingernails found his nipples. The excitement I caused
in his chest caused dad's dick to pound at me even harder. He began to
pound away at my ass sleeve, driving me nuts, and forcing me to make
corkscrews of his big tits.
	With dad's dick driving into me with firm strokes and my ass
wrapping itself around his shaft to pull the cockhead deeper inside, Dad
took my breath away just as I heard him groan of bestial gratification. We
kept each other at the height of sensation as long as we could before dad
groaned without restraint.
	At that point, his buttocks flexed; his long-driving cock sank to
my depths, and he released his first long spurt deep inside me. I honestly
thought I could feel him washing the inside of my belly button with his
juices. Dad edged out an inch or so, pushed his shooting head back down and
then I felt a continuous hot, jetty of my father's wet cum spraying inside
my guts. He had completely let go. His hairy body thrashed about on top me.
	I gyrated my butt, making sure that I got all of him. I grabbed
Mitchell Rivers as tight as I could. My ass muscles flexed and tightened
around dad's shooting cock. My hands brought his flexing ass into me. His
cum bolted forth in four or five long strands and then he was finished.
	My father had fucked me. His shaft had screwed my butt, and I had
made love to him until his cum spilled forth into my passageways. I was
sorry when the tip of his big dick left the button of my ass. I turned
around and kissed him deeply.
	We spent that night and the next day getting to know each other. We
both deliberately hurried our judging efforts so we could get back to the
room and be together.
	It didn't take long to get intimate again, after all, I was waiting
for dad in the bed when he returned. And it didn't take long to arouse our
steamy cocks. We played with each other, enjoying the extra size that each
of us offered. We were gentle, massaging the other's dick as though we
wanted to be sure and not break it.
	One thing led to another and we started going at each other in a
sixty-nine style. Dad had a special knack of being able to open his mouth
and take my balls inside that sent me into delirium. And I found that
sucking down hard on the very tip of his monster cock, right beyond the
cockeye, caused him to raise his hips and beg for more.
	When dad's sperm first spilled down my throat, it was a cause of
great jubilation. He tasted marvelous. I could have drank his cum all
day. He flooded my throat with his man juices, forcing my cheeks to become
reservoirs.
	To my delight, when he finished, he immediately swept me into his
arms and drew me into a deep kiss. His tongue lapped the interior of my
cheeks, taking his own gism. Dad was in sexual overdrive. Once he gathered
his own cum from my mouth, he kissed down my body, licking over my titties,
and returning to my dick to eat it up.
	In his own delirium, dad deep throated me like I had never been
deep throated. He ate my cock.
	"I'm about there again, dad. Just about there," I moaned.
	Dad bobbed his head deeper onto my cock and pushed my balls upward
with his stony palm. His lips were a powerful force. Just the sight of my
dad sucking me and burying his face into my pubes sent great chills of
rapture flooding through me. I raised my hips, bucked my ass several times
and groaned.
	"Coming, I'm about to shoot, dad."
	As anyone else would have seen it, the handsome Mitchell Rivers
stayed on his son's cock to take its first long bolt of juicy cum. It was
an extraordinary moment in the life of father and son.
	Dad tasted my seed, knowing its true origin was from the vine of
life that hung between his own legs. Dad swallowed all of that first creamy
shot before lifting his mouth from my cock and aiming my cockhead to shoot
its liquid bullets upon his chest.
	An enormous amount of cum shot from my dick and into the hairy
curves of dad's muscular torso. I thought perhaps I had shot off as hard
that first time with Stan, but otherwise I could not recall another
occasion of my balls spurting forth so much cum.
	Dad smiled approval. He leaned up to make sure that my fourth bolt
of pearl juice landed on his luscious right nipple. A gob of my white cum
clung to his perky tit tip. Pleased, he moved my cock again so the next
hard shot smeared around his left nipple. He then leaned down and kissed my
cock, taking the last pearl or two into his mouth.
	I was still reveling in the mighty orgasm when my sensuous father
leaned over me, offering me his juicy paps.
	"Suck them, son. Suck the cum from your father's tits."
	I leaned up and kissed first one and then the other of the manly
nipples into my mouth. Dad and I both groaned as I tongued my sperm from
the textured surface of his paps.
	"Oh yes, Kirk. My son, my son. Oh yes," dad moaned. His cock
expanded out, showing itself ready to plunge into my ass.

	12 -- More Matra

	My father and I learned to love each other in many ways. It was
always chilling when dad screwed me. Just the mere feel of his meaty spear
running up the interior of my body gave me so much assurance about the love
we felt for each other. I could usually work him up into a hard, powerful
cum any time he made love to me.
	Similarly, dad controlled me. His ripened body pierced my sexual
battery anytime I touched him -- clothed or not. We became lovers for a
couple of months, going at each other three and four times on some
nights. But, we both knew we could not sustain a torrid love affair. We
realized that we could enjoy each other sexually on occasion, but we knew
that he still needed to be my father, and I needed to be his son.
	I suppose dad picked back up with Uncle Lyle, but they remained
discrete. Several times during that summer, I heard each of them expressed
their love to me about the other. As for me, I started driving to bigger
cities around Dover Springs on weekend nights to find some action.
	And, I even got back up with Stan and Bobby for short
visits. That's when Bobby confessed to me about the Constable. I was
relieved that he did not mention me and his old man. Still, Bobby and I
never messed around again.
	But, interestingly enough, Stan and I managed to connect a few
times. Late one Friday night while leaving an event on campus, we met up
with each other. We went for a drink, and it didn't take long for us leave
the place, get in my truck and return to our own favorite spot near the
swimming hole.
 	Stan welcome my touch and was more aggressive himself. I wondered
if it was because he had enjoyed other experiences since me or if because
he had become so damn horny. We made passionate love. Strangely, when I
shot off, the picture of his gorgeous father flashed through my mind.
  	As time passed, Dad wanted me to be able to find a significant
lover. To settle down... safe and secure. And, I had to recognize that
probably only Uncle Lyle was going to be dad's long-term lover.
	So after a few months of enjoying the thing with dad and my other
occasional lovers, it became painfully clear that we both needed some
space. I decided to move to the state university to finish my undergraduate
degree. Both dad and Uncle Lyle encouraged it. And my mom had started to
get real bitchy about it, too.
	The week before I left, I was getting some errands done when my
truck broke down along the highway between downtown and my house. I didn't
want to get grease on my shirt and it was a hot afternoon, so I stripped
off my logo-swatched pullover before checking out things under the hood.  I
was working under the hood when a car pulled over in front of me.
	I looked out to see Ben Matra, Stan's father, approaching me. With
his pretty silver hair and dark tanned face, he was quite the sexy
gentlemen, displaying a lot of style and charisma.  "Oh, I didn't know it
was you, Kirk. I saw the insurance company sticker and wanted to make sure
nobody needed help," the older man said to me in his beautiful barritone
voice.
	"So, you wouldn't have stopped if you'd known it was me; is that
what you mean," I asked.
	He smiled, rubbed his neck and said, "No, not at all. Sorry it
sounded that way."
	As I studied things under the hood of my truck, Mr. Matra walked
over and leaned over to take a look at things. We stood there diagnosing
the problem together. I looked up at him, observing his good-looking face
and fine build. I caught him staring down at my chest. Obviously, we were
both noticing the closeness.
	Out of curiosity, I moved my leg so it rubbed against his trouser
leg. He shifted his weight, but he remained close to me.  I taped a couple
of wires that had burned and patched the distributor back together.
	I tried the ignition and the engine puttered, but it didn't turn
over. I tried again and again, but without success.
	"Come on, Kirk. Enough of that," Mr. Matra said to me. "Let me give
you a ride into town."
	We had gone about two miles when I looked over to find Mr. Matra
rubbing at his crotch. He was hardly able to keep his eyes on the road for
my bare chest capturing his interests. He saw me looking, took his hand
away and said, "John Peter gets a little itchy this time of the day. Know
what I mean?"
	I could see the outline of a healthy hardon pressing upward against
the man's trousers. Mr. Matra reminded me of Omar Sherif.  We went a couple
of more miles and I could tell that Mr. Matra had gotten nervous. We were
about two miles from town when he looked at me and said, "Let me show you
something." Mr. Matra left the main highway and started down a narrow dirt
road. After a couple of turns, we came to an old mobile home in the woods.
	Stan's father put the car into park and shut the engine off. He
took his keys out of the ignition and said, "Come on in. It ain't much, but
I hold the lien on it. I need to check it before going back to the office."
	Ben Matra unlocked the door and escorted me inside.
	"I think I left a couple of cold beers in the icebox. Want one?"
	"Sure," I said.
	He got us a beer and then motioned for me to come toward the
back. We walked down the hall of the mobile home to a back
bedroom. "There's a waterbed in here; if you can use it at college, I'll
have it drained and brought to you," he said.
	The older man's genoristy aroused my greatest curiosities. He
ushered me into the bedroom and invited me to try the water bed out. I
flopped down on it. He peered from above.
	A bright smile swept his face. I saw the wealthy, town father of
Dover Springs reach down and grab his cock. He whispered to me, "Young
Mr. Rivers, I think I know how you managed to seduce my son."
	"Oh, is that right," I asked in a tone that challenged him to tell
me more. Ben Matra moved down to get closer to me, but he still towered
above. I saw his fingers adjusting the dick that moved inside his pants.
	"Yes, Stan's not unlike me. Hell, just seeing a cute boy like you,
Kirk. Like you are right now, lying there, shirtless, flirtateous and
sexy," he said.
	"Tell me more," I encouraged feeling my own swell.
	"Well, it's enough to make one amorous."
	I decided to take the moment to its conclusion. I had enjoyed the
experience with Bobby's father and I had certainly delighted in the sex
with my dad.
	Regardless if he had kept me and his son a part, Ben Matra turned
me on. As I lay there watching him, thrusting my hips ever so slight upon
the watery foundation, he looked down at me and started to pull his shirt
out of his pants.
	"Maybe you could tell more about that bed if someone else was lying
on it with you," he said.
	"Yes, by all means," I replied, holding my hand out to invite him
to join me.
	 "And I wouldn't want to wrinkle my dress shirt," the older man
added as he began to unbutton his shirt.
	My cock shot up straight. The simple thought of bedding Stan's
father, one of the pillows of Dover Springs, was enough to excite the spunk
out of me. I lay back on the bed and enjoyed the thrill of seeing him
unbutton his shirt.
 	When he spread the shirt back to take it off, I released a slow
round of air. Ben Matras was older than my own father, but his chest was in
fine shape. His upper body had a deep, dark tan, with a spread of thin
black and white hairs covering most of his pecs, but not much hair anywhere
else. The pec slabs spread out tight. His good-sized nipples lay flat to
his chest, slanting upward in an almost diagonal appearance. They were
dark, a toasted brown to cap the richness of his tanned chest. I looked
down and noticed a delicious knotty navel spilling out from his belly hole.
	"And while I'm at it, I might as well lose these," the handsome man
said as he dropped his pants, removed his footwear and then joined me on
the bed.
	Within a few seconds we were embracing. I lunged for his chest. I
kissed over his hard pecs that were taut like cords; his nipples baited me
and I fell upon them like a thirsty animal seeking water. My tongue darted
in and out, lapping at the wide nodules of flesh perched high atop his
chest.
	Mr. Matra grabbed my head and encouraged me to keep my mouth afixed
to his delectable buttons. His flat tits puckered, allowing me to take the
bud into my mouth.
	We got lost in our act of love. Mr. Matra had a wonderful touch. He
was a fine lover, who enjoyed the art of pleasing and the gift of being
pleased.
	He sucked my cock off with great passion.  He rendered me helpless
when my juices erupted to spill down his throat. Surprisingly, he screwed
me with a love that only caring lovers provide.
	"Damn, your ass feels good, Kirk. So very good, boy."
	"Your cock is controlling me, sir," I replied.
	"I bet you drove my son nuts with this shaft," he said, continuing
to pump away at my cock while burning his own dick into my butt. Time after
time, he snapped his muscular hips, driving his luscious cock into my anal
depths. I noticed that Ben Matra and his son also were about the same
size. I wondered if it gave him added thrills to be where his son had been.
	Ben Matra assured me that those were indeed his thoughts.  Huffing
and puffing and about to explode of cum, Mr. Matra kissed me hard and
whispered, "Did my son make you feel this good."
	I moaned "yes" repeatedly as Mr. Matra drove his sturdy cock into
my bowels. Our bodies grew moist and smelled of sweat and our pre-juices.
	With his cock burning into my butt and his hand jerking me off,
Mr. Matra gasped, "Did Stan fire his load inside you. Huh, did he, Kirk?"
The older man asked, his breath labored and his hips drilling his excited
cock into my depths. "Did he, Kirk," Mr. Matras repeated.
	And I answered, "Yes, yes sir! Stan shot his hot, sticky cum all up
inside me. Right up there where your cock is hitting."
	With those words said, Ben Matra hissed and reared his cock up deep
inside me. When Mr. Matra let his cock swell inside me to the point of no
return, I hugged him close to me.
	He yanked passionately at my jutting cock. I felt his pubic bone
meeting my nutsac. His body spasmed, his ass flexed, and then, his spunk
jettied far inside me. His streams of cum were long and steady. I felt giz
run out of me to snake down my crack. His continuous groans were as
gutteral as a hot, alley cat.
	It was easy to let go of my own cum. I sent it flying up to land
halfway up on the older man's stomach. A stream ran down into his knotted
belly button. We collapsed together. Ben Matras assured me that we should
have met a long time ago. I could have lowered my insurance rates, imagine
that?
	Before we broke it up that day in the stuffy old mobile home, the
older man sucked me off again.  Just the way he dove between my legs
assured me that he had been wanting a young man for a long time. He loved
swallowing my wet cum.
	He asked me to eat out his ass and I accommodated him. When I had
him at a fever's pitch, I edged up and jammed my stiff pecker into him. Our
pleasure screams rose in harmony. We became close that afternoon. We
promised to see each other again before I left town.
	When we had finished, I moved down and kissed his cock and rested
my head between his legs. I thought about his son.