Date: Sat, 22 Jul 2000 15:48:04 -0400 (EDT)
From: Marc <Rim4you@webtv.net>
Subject: My Awakening

Disclaimer:

The following story deals with incest, watersports and other forms of
sexual fetishes.  If you are under the age of eighteen or find this kind
of sexual activity offensive, stop here.

My Awakening
By Rim4you

1

I was fourteen when Mom and Dad divorced.  Owing to Mom's mental
instability and without objection on her part, the judge granted full
custody of me to my Dad.

School had just let out for the summer when Dad, who was in the Marine
Corps, received orders to transfer to Camp Pendalton in California.

"Looks like we're headin' west Scott," Dad said to me.

"California!"  I hollered with excitement.  "When do we leave Dad?"

"Well kido!"  Dad responded with equal enthusiasm, feeding off my youth
exhuberance, "I've put in for a thirty day leave to give us time to
settle in, get things squared away and register you for school, before I
have to report for duty on July 15th.  I'm being assigned as a drill
instructor for the new jarheads!"

"Cool!"  I shouted, "You having control over all those young guys and
turning them into marines!"

"That's one way of looking at it Scott."

"So when do we leave Dad?"

"The movers will be here Thursday morning and we have a plane to catch
on Saturday.  I know this is all kind of sudden, just after your Mom and
My divorce and all, and it dosen't give you much time to say good-bye
to your friends, but ..."  Dad paused, "I think the change will do us
both a helluva lot of good."

"It's okay Dad," I responded by giving him a big hug, "I can hardly
wait."

As I hugged my Dad, pressing my head against his massive chest, my arms
wrapped around his taut waist, I could smell his distinctive scent.  An
all natural scent that I had come to enjoy and which I found arousing.
I breathed in deep, faking a sigh, so Dad wouldn't think that I was
sniffing him, which was exactly what I was doing.

I could feel my young teen-age cock twitch with excitement as my
nostrils inhaled Dad's musk.  I broke the embrace and took a couple
steps back.

"Guess I better start saying good-bye to my friends," I said to Dad.

As I said this, my eyes glanced at him, swooping over him as it were,
from head to toe.

At thirty-two, Dad was an impressive sight.  He was tall.  At least to
my boyish eyes he was.  Six foot, two inches tall to be exact.  His
shoulders were very broad and taperd from his muscular chest down to a
slim, firm waist.  His legs were beefy, muscular, well toned from
cycling, jogging and weight lifting.  Where his skin was exposed, swirls
of dark brown hair could be seen.

Dad had very intense, deep violet colored eyes, which were so striking
in contrast to dark hair color.  His jawline was square.

Yeah!  My Dad was good looking.  But what caught my eye the most in that
one sweeping glance, was the bulge in his crotch.  It was so very
prominant confined in the black spandex of his cycling shorts.  A very
full basket.

"I'm gonna go hang out with Chris," I said finally, getting a hold of
myself.  "I guess you're gonna go cycle around huh Dad?"

"Yeah!  You know I like to ride son.  Relaxes me.  Gives me a chance to
clear my head.  Just be home in time for dinner okay?"

"I will," I shouted as I headed out the door.

"If I didn't know any better," Dad whispered to himself as he heard the
front door slam shut,  "I think my kid was just checkin' me out!"

Dad looked down to the bulge between his legs and patted his cock.

"Yeah buddy!"  Dad smiled approvingly.  "You've made quite a few heads
turn and made some good friends too!  Wonder how the California boys are
gonna take to you!"

Dad followed suit and headed out the front door and hopped on his bike.
As he peddled down the street he waved to Chris and I.

"Be home by six!"  he shouted as he passed us and disappeared around the
corner.

2

Ever since I discovered my cock and started masturbating, I discovered
that what really made me hot was my sense of smell when I detected odors
that were, to me, sexual smells.

I found immense pleasure in sniffing my armpits; sweaty socks and
underwear; rank sneakers.  As I'd stroke my dick and hold these items
under my nose and breathe their aromas deeply, my dick would respond
swelling to it's full, rock hard seven inches.

As I would jack off, my mind would wander into a world of fantasy, where
these funky aromas would be all around me.  Overpowering me.  Invading
my nostrils.  Being in a locker room, lying on a bench stroking my dick
and having one man after another rub his stinking jockstrap onto my
face, was my favorite fantasy.  It always put me over the edge when I'd
masturbate to that fantasy, a rank sneaker or sweaty sock always handy
for me to sniff, and I'd explode my cock juice and smear the creamy
white fluid all over my stomach and chest.

It was on one such occassion, kneeling beside my bed, beating my meat to
my "locker room" fantasy, my face buried in my grundgiest sneaker
sniffing away, that I discovered a new aroma.  One that I hadn't thought
of before.

I dropped the sneaker, it's odor still fresh, swimming through my head.
I reached my hand down beneath my balls and slid my finger into my fuzzy
ass trench.  I inched my finger closer and closer to my asshole.  Making
contact, I felt its moistness and warmth.  I swirled my finger around my
asshole several times.  I felt a tingle shoot up my spine.  Touching my
asshole in this way felt good.

My young, throbbing cock was leaking pre-cum heavily from my piss slit.
I reached for my sneaker and placed it under my cock to allow that clear
nectar to spill into it.

Slowly.  Tentatively.  I raised my moist finger to my nose and took a
cautious sniff.  Then another.  And another.  Each sniff becoming
deeper.  More absorbing.
The odor that invaded my nostrils this time was far more pungent, more
robust, more raw than either my sneaker or a sweaty sock had.

I swayed like a cobra being charmed with this new inscense wafting in my
nostrils, my cock now buried in my sneaker, rubbing the material within,
sent shock waves throughout my body.

I reached down to my asshole again, to retrieve more of this wonderfully
arousing fragrance.  My "locker room" fantasy now had a new twist.  Now
each man took turns squatting over my face so I could smell their
sweaty, ripe assholes!

My mind raced with these lewd thoughts and it didn't take long before my
body quaked and gush after gush of my spunk flew into my sneaker.  All
the while sniffing my finger.

From then on I devised ways to keep my ass nice and ripe, the way I
liked it.  When taking a shower, I'd never let the soap slip between my
ass cheeks; when toweling off, I'd never run the towel into my ass
trench; when wiping my ass after taking a shit, I'd rub the paper up and
down my ass crack, spreading that funky scent.

In time my underwear would become heavily coated with brown streaks and
this would become a favorite object to drape over my face and smell as I
masturbated.

Dad never uttered a word, when doing the laundry, upon seeing some of my
filthy underwear.  In a way, I suppose, I was hoping for some kind of
reaction on his part.  Some word, perhaps, regarding my personal hygine;
how I ought to keep my ass cleaner.  But that word never came.  And too,
sometimes, Dad's briefs were just as dirty as mine!

3

Our last night in the house, before moving to California was a quiet
one.  For one it was empty, the movers having stripped it bare.

One of Dad's buddies had stopped by earlier to drop off a couple of
sleeping bags and a boom box.

"You guys need something to entertain you!"  Dad's buddy quirped.  "I'll
pick you guys up tomorrow to take you to the airport."

Dad's buddy also dropped off a twelve pack of beer, some soda and chips
too.

We ordered pizza.  As the young delivery guy gave back the change, he
winked at Dad.

"Gonna miss you Brian!"  he said, extending his hand.

Dad grasped the young man's hand in a firm handshake.

"Likewise ... we've had some good times!"

"You take it easy too Scott!"  the young man hollered as he turned and
walked away.

I wondered to myself if he and Dad had had something going on.  I had a
big smile on my face when Dad turned around.

"Dinner is served,"  Dad said, plopping down on his sleeping bag.  "What
are you grinnin' from ear to ear about Scott?"

"Ah nothin' Dad," I chuckled, reaching out and giving him a playful
punch in the gut, "Just thinkin'."

"Well hop up and grab your old Dad a beer why don't ya!  And seein' how
it's our last night here, you can have a beer too."

"I can?"  I gasped.

"Yeah!"  Dad responded, "but don't you breathe a word of this to your
Grandma when we get out to California.  She'll have me skinned alive!"

"You're way too cool Dad!"  I bellowed as I ran to the refrigerator.

As I returned to the livingroom, Dad was stepping out of his jeans.  His
t-shirt was tossed on the floor.  He hunkered down in a squat, his back
to me, and slipped a CD into the boom box.  The room filled with the
sound of Shania Twain's voice, a favorite of both Dad and I.

As Dad squatted down, his white briefs streatched over the mounds of his
full, muscular ass.  Clearly visible to my discerning glance, were the
many brown streaks against the whiteness of the cloth.

My heart pounded within my chest.  I gasped quietly and caught myself,
not breathing but more like sniffing.  My cock reacted instantly.  It
began to spring to life.

Dad stood up and turned around.  The bulge in his briefs more prominent
than I remembered.  Nonchalantly, Dad strolled to his sleeping bag and
sprawled his massive hulk on his side.

Sure I had seen my Dad in his underwear before.  But this time was
different, he looked so sexy, so erotic.  His rippling muscles
highlighted in the dim light that spilled from the hallway.

"Here's your beer Dad," I almost stammered as I approached him handing
him his beer.

"Might as well get comfy kido!"  Dad said matter of factly, "we're in
for the countdown."

I put my beer down on the floor and unashamedly began to undress.  I had
nothing to be ashamed of.  When I was twelve I started working out with
Dad and my young developing body, even at fourteen, showed signs of
descent definition.  Many people thought I was alot older than I was.

"You've really filled out Scott," Dad said, eyeing me as I turned around
with a semi-hard-on creeping up within my briefs.

"Think so?"  I asked.  Instinctively looking down at my crotch.

"Yep!"  Dad grinned.  "Must run in the family ... you know ... the
genes!"  Dad shot a glace to his bulging basket.

"Must!"  I said, and plopped down on my sleeping bag opposite his.

"Here's to us son," Dad said, raising his beer bottle towards me, "and
to our new life together."

I raised my bottle towards his to clink them together.

"To us, Dad," I responded, "you're way too cool!"

"Thank God for that!"  Dad chuckled, taking a sip of his beer, "I never
wanted to be one of those old fuddie-duddies on the golf course son.  I
always wanted to be on a good wave length with you Scott.  Especially
now that it's just you and me."

"Shit Dad!"  I uttered, "Oh sorry!  Didn't mean to cuss."

"Around me," Dad replied, "don't worry about that ... until you get down
right disrespectful and I have to take my hand to your ass!"

I laughed and dug into the pizza.  Dad laughed too.

4

"Now don't go gettin' wasted on me Scott," Dad said, after our second
beer and we had finished off the pizza.  "All I need on my hands
tomorrow is a hung over kid on a five hour long flight to California!"

"No prob Dad," I chuckled, "Chris and I have been sneaking beers from
each others' house since we were twelve."

"So that's where all my beer disappeared to!"  Dad roared with laughter.
"I was beginning to think I was a fuckin' lush!"

When Dad used the word "fuckin'," it had such a deep, resonating,
masculine, nasty sound to it.  My mind flooded with my "locker room"
fantasy and the men all talking dirty.  My cock swelled within my
briefs.

"So what else did you and Chris do?"  Dad asked, nonchantly reaching
down to scratch himself and readjust his growing basket.

"Ah you know Dad," I responded, sheepishly hanging my head down, not
wanting to confront his penetrating violet eyes flashing in front of me.
"We ... uh ... you know ... did some stuff."

"Stuff?"  Dad inquired.  "As in experiment with drugs?"

"Well yeah ... kinda," I answered, feeling the situation out.

"Relax Scott,"  Dad said, "I'm not here to punish you.  Hell, believe it
or not I was your age at one time!  I just want you to know that you can
discuss anything with me.  Absolutely anything!"

"But Dad," I uttered in slight protest, "some things might ... uh ... I
know ... you'd beat the hell ..."

"You can tell me anything Scott," Dad reached out and grabbed my
shoulder in a reaffirming, comforting grip.  "An open discussion between
us son, especially one that I initiated, is no grounds for punishing you
for what you say or feel.  I can't hold your thoughts or feelings
against you."

"If it makes you feel any better son, when I was around your age, your
Uncle Brad and I shared a room together.  He was about seventeen then, a
senior in high school and played first string quarterback on the
football team.  I idolized him.  We would jack each other off many a
night before we turned in."

"You and Uncle Brad!"  I gasped.

"Does that bother you Scott?"

"No!  Fuck no!"  I gasped again.  "I just think that ... uh ... that's
so cool.  When was the last time you and Uncle Brad jerked each other
off?"

"Last summer," Dad answered, "when he flew out here to visit."

Dad shot a glance at me.  His eyes met mine.

"You okay son?"

"Oh yeah Dad!  I'm okay.  What you just told me ... uh ... I'm trying to
picture it in my mind.  Two muscular dudes like you and Uncle Brad goin'
at each others' dicks.

"So what about you and Chris?"  Dad said, rolling onto his back,
propping his hands under his head, his hairy armpits exposed; his cock
snaking its way towards the waistband of his briefs.

"Well," I answered, droping my hand to my swelling cock to squeeze it,
"we've jacked each other off and a couple of times Chris let me fuck him
up the ass!"

Dad reached down to the massive bulge between his legs and fondled
himself, the mushroom head of his dick snaking its way beyond the
waistband of his briefs, inching its way towards and above his navel.

"Did you enjoy playing with Chris?"

"Fuck yeah!  I'm really gonna miss him!"

Dad reached down with his hand.  Grabbing the waistband of his briefs he
tugged them down until his low hanging balls were exposed and his briefs
were tucked snugly underneath them.

"Fuck!"  I gasped, sucking in air deeply, gazing at my Dad's monster
thick, long veiny cock.  Still swelling.  Still climbing upwards on his
stomach.

"Big cocks run in the family," Dad whispered, looking at me.  "Your
Grandpa Mike has a big cock just like me and Uncle Brad."

"You've seen Grandpa's dick?"  I hissed excitedly.

"Yes son, I have.  Brad and I would suck his cock and sometimes Dad
would piss all over our assholes, especially after he'd been drinking
alot of beer, and then he'd take turns fucking me and Brad.  We loved
it!"

I nearly fell over backwards.  I was totally mesmerized by the sight of
my Dad's raging, huge hard-on and what he was telling me nearly put me
over the edge.

"Was Grandpa as big as you?"  I blurted out.

"Almost,"  Dad said, proudly stroking the length and girth of his dick,
"but I was bigger than your Grandpa or Uncle Brad!  We measured it one
night.  Thirteen fuckin' inches of man cock!"  Dad looked at me with
pride and lust.  "I guess that's why guys and chicks, and I've noticed
even you Scott, always look at my crotch!"

"Jeez Dad!"  I gasped, a litle embarassed.  "You caught me lookin'?"

"Yeah Scott I did.  And it turned me on each time you did, hoping one
day that we could share together what I shared with my Dad and brother."

Dad rolled over onto his stomach and looked between my legs.

"And from what I can detect, you'll carry on the Curtis tradition Scott.
Big cocks!  Whip it out son.  Let me see it!"

I rose to my knees and yanked my briefs down in one tug down to my
ankles.  My hard, throbbing cock bobbed up and down upon release.

Dad smiled approvingly.

"Yeah!  You've got a big dick for a fourteen year old.  Nice low hanging
balls son.  Yep!  You've certainly inherited the Curtis genes.  Wonder
what it's gonna be like when you're eighteen!"

"I hope like yours Dad!"  I whispered in a raspy voice, squeezing my
young dick, pre-cum oozing out of my piss slit.

Dad leaned forward and swiped his tongue over my cock head to capture
within his mouth the taste, the flavor of me.  His son.

"Tastes real good son,"  Dad whispered softly, as he swirled his tongue
in his mouth.  "Fuckin' sweet."

Dad glance up at me.  His violet eyes gazing deeply into mine.

"You okay son?"

"Fuck yes!"  I groaned.  "I've dreamed ... I've wondered ... uh ...
lusted for this moment but ..."

"But what son?"  Dad asked, flicking his tongue under the crown of my
dick, sending goose bumps all over me.

"I haven't told you everything Dad,"  I whimpered in lust.  "But I'm
afraid you'll think that I'm wierd."

Perhaps it was the beer.  Perhaps it was this moment unfolding.

"I won't judge you Scott,"  Dad moaned softly, still flicking his
tongue, swirling it around my dick.  "I won't think less of you son,
whatever you have to say."

I looked down at my Dad's upturned ass, encased in his tight briefs.
The brown streaks embedded in the fibers of his white jockey briefs,
riveted my attention.

"Dad!"  I gasped, "I ... uh ... get so turned on to ... uh ..."

"Don't be embarassed Scott.  You can tell me,"  Dad uttered, his tongue
still lapping away at my oozing dick.

"I like to smell things Dad."

"What kind of things son?"

"It's freaky Dad!  You'll hate me!"

Dad paused, looked up at me.  His tongue still curled under my throbbing
cock.

"I love you son!  Don't ever forget that.  And I always will.  So what
do you like to smell?"

"Nasty things Dad!"

"As in?"

"Oh ... uh ..." my body began to convulse with the touch of my Dad's
tongue on my dick.  Dad pulled his head back.

"Talk to me Scott," he whispered gently.

I sunk down, crashing to the floor.  My body heaved and sighed.

"I'm a real perv Dad," I moaned, "the things that turn me on.  They're
so un-cool ... so fuckin' dirty!"

"Son," Dad began by gently stroking my face with his hand, "what turns
us on sexually is just that plain and simple.  Yes, there will be those
who won't ... can't accept what turns you on ... but ... Scotty, don't
ever think for a moment that you can't confide in me.  Share your
thoughts with me.  I promised myself that I'd always be open minded ...
expanding my comprehension of things beyond myself.  Understand what I'm
trying to say?"

I shook my head in confirmation.  Dad only called me "Scotty," which I
hated, when I knew he got emotional.  Sentimental.  As if reaching back
into his mind to a gentler, happier time when I was this little kid that
he'd fling over his shoulder and the two of us would venture off
together and Mom would smile happily. Approvingly.  That her two men,
more like little boys, had bonded so well together.

"It's just Dad ..."  I stammered, "I freak out when I smell sweaty
armpits; funky socks and sneakers; dirty underwear and hell ... uh ...
I've even sniffed the toilet bowl after you've taken a shit!  And
sniffed my own asshole.  Those smells fuckin' turn me on Dad!  I can't
explain it.  I guess I'm just a fuckin' perv!  God, how you must hate
me!"

"I don't hate you son,"  Dad said gently, "I love you and you're no
fuckin' perv as you keep calling yourself.  Stop calling yourself that,"
Dad lowered his head, "or your'e gonna make me believe that I'm a perv
too!"

Dad reached down and slipped his hand under his briefs.  I knew what he
was doing.  He was fingering his asshole.  He withdrew his finger and
held it under his nose and sniffed deeply.

"I love that stinky smell Scotty!  I always have."

"Oh Dad!"  I sighed, "Then I'm not a freaky perv am I?  I mean, for
liking nasty things?"

"No son, you're not!"  Dad responded, continuing to sniff his finger.
"I like gettin' real nasty and raunchy."

I looked lustfully at my Dad's voluptuous ass encased in his brown
streaked briefs.

"Go ahead Scott,"  Dad moaned, "smell my shitty underwear.  It's what
you wanna do isn't it?"

I shook my head affirmatively.  "Yes," I whispered.  "I wanna smell your
stink, Dad!"  I moaned as I dipped my head towards his ass.

"Fuck yeah!"  Dad groaned, as I sunk my face into the warm crevice of
his skanky, dirty underwear.  "Smell my stink!"

I inhaled deeply.  Burying my face into the cleft of my Dad's muscular
ass trench.  The fabric I buried my face into was damp.  Sour with sweat
and the traces of the aroma I knew so well.  Asshole.  Shit.  I sniffed
greedily.  Hungrily.

Instinctively, I opened my mouth and began to suck the filthy cloth into
my mouth.  Yankng it.  Pulling it.  Drawing it into my gaping mouth to
savor its fragrance and deliciousness.

"Fuck!  Fuck son!"  Dad groaned, grinding his crotch into the sleeping
bag beneath him.  "I kind of knew ... I kind of guessed, seeing your
shitty underwear  ... that ... oh fuck yeah!  Get that butt skank in
your mouth boy!"  Dad hollered. "That you liked it dirty and nasty!"

"I'm a fuckin' perv Dad ... remember?"

"So am I Scotty!"  Dad shouted, his voice echoing in the empty room, "so
am I!"

Dad collapsed, almost melting into his sleeping bag.  His breaths were
deep and raspy.

"Fuckin' havin' my dirty jarhead shorts eatin' out by my kid!"  Dad
pounded his fists onto the floor, "This is so fuckin' hot!"

I bucked myself backward onto my back and yanked my briefs off.  Pullng
my legs up into the air, my fuzzy boy ass completely exposed, spread and
vulnerable, I shouted:

"Curtis!"

"Sir!"  Dad's voice snapped back instantly in true marine, military
confirmation.

"Smell my ass Curtis!"

"Sir!  Yes sir!  Sir!"  Dad shouted back.  Ever true to form.

I relished in my momentary control as Dad sunk his sniffing face into my
dirty, stinking ass trench.

"How's that smell Curtis?"  I snapped.

"Sir!  It stinks sir!"  Dad bellowed back, as he ground his face up and
down my ass trench.

"Want some more stink?"  I hollered back, confident in my role.

"Sir!  Yes sir! Sir!"

A wet, juicy fart escaped my asshole.

"Thank you sir!"  Dad screamed, as his mouth clamped down over my
asshole to receive my ripe wind.

"Time out!"  I hollered, lowering my legs.
"got me so fuckin' hot!  Don't wanna bust my nut just yet!  Back off
marine.  At ease!"

Dad hunkered back, his nostrils sniffing wildly.

"Ever tried this?"  Dad asked, reaching for the pocket of his discarded
jeans.

"What?"

Dad retrieved a brown bottle filled with liquid.  He shook the bottle
and handed it to me.

"Dad!"  I gasped, "I don't understand.  What am I supposed to do with
this?"

"Let me get us two more beers,"  Dad said, standing and kicking his
briefs off, his monster thirteen inch cock bobbing up and down widly.
"You just lie there son.  I'll be back in a moment."

Dad returned with two more beers.  He handed me one and I took a deep
swig.  He stood above me.  His muscular, hairy ass staring me in the
face above me.

"Unscrew the cap son and take a hit."

"What?"  I asked.

"Hand me the bottle,"  Dad said, "and I'll show you."

I handed the brown bottle up to Dad.  He unscrewed the cap and lifted
the bottle to his nose,  Clamping one nostril shut he inhaled deeply
with the other.  Then repeated the same action with the other nostril.

Handing me the bottle he whispered:

"Take a hit son.  But screw the cap on when you're finished."

I repeated Dad's actions and instructions.  Instantly, my head was
filled with a sudden rushing sensation that seemed to center itself
around my cock.

As if in a trance, a hypnotic state, I could see Dad lowering his hairy
ass onto my face.

"Smell my dirty ass son!"  Dad groaned, as his outspread ass cheeks
hovered within inches of my nose.  "Smell my mother fuckin' asshole!" He
coaxed as he reached down with his hands to spread his butt cheeks
further apart.  "Yeah!  Smell my ass!"

My face lurched upwards to sniff his fowl smelling asshole.  It was
rank.  It was ripe.  It was so stink!  Dad rocked his sweaty, stinking
ass all over my face.  I, in turn, grunted and moaned in satisfaction.

"You like that fucker, don't you?"  Dad hissed.  "Like smellin' marine
asshole don't you son?"

"Fuck yeah!"  I gasped, inbetween hungry sniffs.  "I smell shitty marine
hole!"

"Oh yeah!"  Dad groaned, "my stinky hole is all yours son!"

As my nostrils inhaled my Dad's shithole, my tongue swirled around his
puckered hole, sweeping within my mouth the flavor of his ass juice.

"Ah Daddy!"  I moaned lustfully.

Dad pulled away from my face, slowly and gently.

"What's wrong?"  I asked moaning.

"Ah nothing son!"  his voice whispered back huskily.  "You just got me
so fuckin' turned on!"

Dad reached down for the brown bottle I clenched in my hand.  Raising it
up to his nose, he took several deep hits, then reached for an empty
beer bottle.

"Wanna watch your Dad get kinky?"  he moaned with lust.

"Yes!"  I whispered back.  "Teach me how to be really nasty!"

Dad brought the empty beer bottle up to his cock, to his piss slit, and
began to piss in the bottle, filling it.  Even when he had filled the
bottle to its twelve ounce capacity and his piss was still gushing,
spilling, over the edge of the bottle onto me,  he didn't turn his dick
away.  What the beer bottle couldn't contain, he sprayed over my chest.

"Fuck!"  I moaned, rubbing Dad's piss all over my chest.

Then Dad raised the piss filled bottle up to his lips and in one long
gulp, he swallowed every ounce of his piss down his thirsty throat until
he had emptied the contents of the bottle.

"Fuckin' nasty pig!"  I gasped.

"Yeah!"  Dad groaned, piss spilling out of the corners of his mouth,
dripping onto his hairy chest, "that's what I am son!  A fuckiin' dirty
pig.  And I want more!"

"More?"  I squeeled, "what more do you want Dad?"

"I want shit son!  I wanna eat your stinkin' shit!"

"Yeah?"  I grunted.  "Have you done this before with your marine
buddies?"

"Yes!  Yes Scotty I have!  I'm a fuckin' shit eatin' pig and I love it!
Right now I wanna eat my boy's shit.  Chomp down on your turd Scotty!
Eat it and swallow it!"

"Curtis!"  I screamed.

"Sir!  Yes sir!  Sir!"  Dad bellowed back.

"I can't shit right now Curtis!"  I hollered, "but your orders ..."

"Sir!  What are my orders sir?!"

"Report to Camp Pendalton.  Find a young recruit and bring him home to
us and let me watch you service his asshole."

"Sir!  Yes sir, Sir!"  Dad bellowed, in complete confirmation to marine
protocol.

We passed the night exploring each others' manhood.

I had awakened.

*******************************

I welcome your feedback.  Write to me at Rim4you@webtv.net