Date: Mon, 18 Sep 2006 09:08:18 -0700 (PDT) From: PT Cruiser Subject: Sandwich Island - 1 This story is completely fictional. Any resemblance to real life situations is clearly coincidental. I previously wrote a story for this web site, and received great response. I decided to write a larger more substantial story. In doing so I came up with a book size story that I really liked, so I wanted to submit it by chapters, and get people's feedback. I may work this story for a manuscript to send to publishers. So feel free to contact me. Warning: I will be submitting in sections by chapters. Not all chapters will have graphic erotic content. This story does contain graphic language, sex and situations throughout. Chapter 1 I pulled into our turn around driveway after my long journey from the college I was attending in Ohio. The house I grew up in stared straight back at me as if it missed me in its empty bowels. It was a sight for sore eyes and I relished the fact that I was back home and would be seeing my dad again for the next couple of weeks. Between school, and all my gymnastics training for the upcoming National competition, I new that I needed a break of just rest and relaxation around the big estate my father, and I called home. We were a bit wealthy, what could I say. Dad was a professional football player for a couple of years, and him and Mom took that money, and opened some businesses that did well for them. Mom died from breast cancer just before I turned six, and this house was my parent's dream home. Dad would never let go it because there was so much of Mom in the house; it was like we had her still there with us. We both missed her immensely, and even though the house was too large for a couple of guys to live in, we both knew we could never sell the house and move. I grabbed one of my suitcases out of the trunk of my car, and made a beeline towards the door. I couldn't wait to see my dad, it had been so long since we had seen each other, and before my college days our relationship was a deeply close one. Being in a school so far away from home always made me miss him a little more than most 20-year-olds should miss their father. But what could I say, we were a team. I busted through the front door in anticipation that my dad would be waiting for me in the entryway, but the entry way was empty. "Anyone home?" I shouted out into the living room emptiness. "Welcome home Jett!" Anne, my dad's live in companion shouted to me as she came running into the room. Dad started dating Anne about 7 years ago. She worked for him in his chain of sporting stores, but they had the strangest relationship I had ever seen. She moved in about 3 years ago, and even though they did the couple thing for most social events, they slept in separate bedrooms, and really seemed more like best friends than affectionate lovers. "Hi Anne," I said as we embraced. "Is Dad home?" "He's in his office, he knows your home, but he is on a really important phone call and says to tell you he will be right out. Let me take that bag. Do you need me to do your laundry?" I smiled at Anne. "You are so good to me Anne, you are going to spoil me rotten!" Anne grabbed my bag, and went in the direction of the laundry room. "Really important phone call?" I thought. He always was waiting for me at the front door when I came home from school. It was like he couldn't wait to plant that big hug and kiss on me the second I got here. My dad still hugged me, and kissed me on the lips like I was a little boy. I am sure most young men my age would protest, but when he did it, I actually enjoyed it; and it made me feel like I had all the security in the world. I quickly snuck down the back hall towards his office, and as I got closer to the door I started to hear what he was saying on the phone. I wasn't one to eavesdrop, but I couldn't imagine what could be so important that he didn't greet me at the door? "Jack, I think you should talk to him about it, he, for some reason, seems to be able to talk to you about things like this better than me," I heard my dad speak out. "He's talking to Uncle Jack," I whispered to myself. My Uncle Jack wasn't really my uncle. Dad and he were best friends from college football. They both were big college football stars that went on to play professional football. Dad went to the Jets and played for two years on specialty teams, and as a back up running back. That is where I got the name Jett. I actually like the name, but I was glad the Dolphins didn't draft him. Uncle Jack played tight end for the Giants for 7 years. He was the famous "Jack Attack" that fans spewed over in the 1970s. I had seen films of him playing, and he was an animal running over defensive players like they were future road kill. The funny thing about him, for having such an animal like attack on the football field, he was such a softy in real life. He, like Dad was very successful in taking the money they made from professional football, and turning many businesses into a success. Needless to say Uncle Jack's success in business made us look like paupers, and believe me Dad had millions of his own. We all settled down in the New York suburbs, and even when Mom was around, we were always one big family. Uncle Jack was more like a second father to me. He would come with Dad to all my football games in high school, and all my gymnastics meets. They both would come visit me at school when ever they could, and by him being more of a friend than an actual father, I could open up to him more, and talk to him about all the things going on in my life. "I agree with you totally on this. I think this will be the best thing we can do for him!" My dad continued saying on the phone. "I got to go Jack, Jett just got home, and you know how badly I want to see him!" I decided that was my cue to leave, and get back to the living room. I quietly rushed down the back hall, and into the main area of the house. Before I could grab a seat on the sofa I heard my dad's voice ring out from the other side of the main room. "Jett! Come and give your dad a big hug!" I turned, and a big smile came over my face. I missed the old lug, and I actually always looked forward to the next time I would see him. He looked so good with his salt and pepper hair and his well kept body. I could only hope I looked that good when I got 50. "Dad!" I shouted out as I walked towards him. We embraced in the middle of the room and he squeezed me close into his 6-foot muscular body. I looked up at him and as usual he gave me a big kiss on the lips. "I love you son," he whispered into my ear. It felt so good to have him hold me, and I knew I was lucky to have such a loving, and supportive father. "So did you unpack your things?" Dad questioned. "Anne grabbed my bag of clothes, and I think she is already washing my things. I still have my computer and other junk to unpack!" "Well come on I'll help you!" As we went to unload my car, Dad apologized for not meeting me at the door. I couldn't help but laugh inside. I mean I really was the most important thing in the world to him. He went on to explain how he had to talk to Uncle Jack about something, and that later he wanted to talk to me about something also! My mind already started racing in curiosity over what it could be. I grabbed the box with my computer and books out of my trunk, and my dad grabbed the other box with all my other odds and ends. We lugged the heavy boxes into the house and up into my room! I quickly dumped my box on the floor, and jumped into my bed and stretched out. "There is no place like home," I sighed out in the comfort of my bed. "Now if I could just figure out a way to click my heels to get here whenever I wanted to!" My dad chuckled out into the room. "That would be nice Jett! We could see a lot more of each other that way." I looked up at my ceiling and just started reminiscing about the past. It was great when Mom was around. She was an ex-gymnast who just missed qualifying for the Olympics. When Dad retired from football he opened up a gymnastics club for her, and when I was with Mom she had me doing gymnastics in her gym. Ironically when I was with Dad he had me playing football. It was weird how the two played out. We were so close, and I especially shared both of my parent's worlds. When Mom died Dad promised her that he would continue my gymnastics, and my whole life revolved around the two sports. For some reason I always felt Mom was with me every time I was practicing or competing. It helped me keep her close to me in a way. "You know Dad, I really miss being here with you like it used to be," I spat out before he left my room. "It has been really hard not having you around these past two years son. Makes the house feel bare and lonely." After Dad left I lay in bed thinking about the important thing he was talking to Uncle Jack about? Was he going to marry Anne now, and he wanted my blessing? No, he would never marry Anne; he never even sleeps with her. He would never feel it was better for Uncle Jack to talk to me about something that important. Before I knew it I dozed off. I was at school in the weight room. Coach Billings came in, and told me to get on the bench press for my chest workout. Let's get this workout started," he shouted out to me. "You gymnastic wimps need all the weight training you can get!" I knew he was joking, he, and the head football coach had asked me to join the football squad on several occasions. They wanted my blistering 4.35 40-yard speed on that field in several different ways, but the school was paying for gymnastics, and they new I had a great chance to make the Olympics. "I will out bench any of you football wimps! Bring them on!" I laughed back at him. "You will out run them all, that is for sure!" Coach took his usual spotting position behind the bench. I could see up his shorts, and from where I was laying I could see he was going commando. His fat hairy cock and huge hairy balls lay down his right short leg in plain site for me to see! "Quit staring at my cock, and let's get going, pussy boy!" I immediately pushed the bar up off the stand, and when I brought it down to my chest he put all his weight on it pinning me to the bench. He slowly brought his lips to mine and smothered them over mine. He forced his tongue into my mouth, and almost into my throat. I wanted to resist his attack, but for some reason I was enjoying it as my cock started to grow in my shorts! He pulled off my lips and shouted, "Look at your fat cock grow! I love that fat cock you have!" We both pulled the bar off my chest, and I immediately groped his balls through the leg of his shorts, which made him shouted out a glorious moan. His cock was big and getting hard. As I looked at it, it slithered out pre-cum down from it's slit. He pulled up his short leg and exposed his entire tool as he lowered it to my face. In one thrust he shoved it into my mouth, and down my throat. "Jett! Jett!" rang out in the room. "Hey Jett!" I heard as I quickly sat up in my bed. "Jett are you ok?" I heard Dad ask as he peered in the door of my bedroom. "Dad!" I shouted out! "Ummm...just a bad dream I guess!" Dad looked down at my crotch for a second and then he said, "We are supposed to meet your Uncle Jack for dinner in about an hour. I thought you might want to have some time to shower and get ready. "Oh! Thanks Dad!" I said as I looked down at my crotch to see what he was looking at. My cock was hard as a rock sticking slightly out of the waistband of my shorts. Most guys would be embarrassed if they had been in my situation right now, but my dad was cool. I had seen him hard many times, and he had seen me that way. We always teased each other about our "piss hard-ons" in the morning. I guess when your dad spent all his life in sports, and so did you, you are used to being naked around other men in the locker rooms. We both usually slept naked and walked around occasionally naked, in the morning waking each other up, or grabbing a towel from the linen closet. Modesty was in neither of our vocabularies. He reminded me so much of Robert Conrad from the old "Wild, Wild West" TV shows. I just had to admire him, and hope that I would be like him, as I got older. I hopped into my shower still fully hard. The water felt so good on my sleepy body, and I wanted to grab my cock putting it through the regular abuse I loved to put it through when I got the chance, but I just wasn't sure what I was feeling. The dream kept repeating in my mind over and over. It wasn't the first time I had dreamt about me, and Coach Billings, fondling each other, but it was just as much frightening to me as it was a turn on. "I'm not a fag!" Kept banging in my foggy head reassuring myself of my sexual preference. I should be grossed out about a dream with coach ramming his cock in my mouth, but I was confused on why I wasn't. Coach Billings had befriended me in the fall of my freshmen year at college after seeing me play intramural football. He was shocked at my speed and abilities as a wide receiver, and wondered how the college had missed recruiting me for football. I pretty much let him off the hook by informing him that no college recruited me to play football. I was realistic about my chances in college football. I was small, taking after my mother, topping off at about 5' 8". I knew I couldn't play running back like in high school, and as a defensive back; the large running backs would mow me over. At age 17 I was the first alternate to the Olympics in gymnastics, and in reality every college was after me in that sport. I needed to continue in gymnastics to finish my dream, and my mother's dream, for me to compete in the Olympics in gymnastics. When coach Billings learned about my background he become really interested in me, and he hooked up as my training coach for free. I told him my dad would gladly pay him plenty to do it, but he was from the very beginning, more than a friend. In a way it was scary to me because he was always kind of too touchy with me. He was always putting his arm around me, or grabbing me from behind pressing his body close to mine. He liked to wrestle me a lot. I was sure it was all in fun, but at the same time I couldn't help but feel that he wanted more. When last year started, I started having dreams about him, dreams that took us farther than friendship. I knew these dreams stemmed from the fact that I thought he wanted me sexually, but at the same time they were confusing me about my own sexuality. How could I dream that stuff? A dream like that should totally gross me out? I quickly rushed downstairs, and found my dad sitting in the bar with a drink in his hand. As I looked at him from a distance, I could only think, "God, he's a handsome man!" "So what's the plan Dad?" I shouted out to him. "Jett! I hope you got some rest." My dad blurted out. "I bet you were tired from that long drive!" "I sure did! It was great!" Dad came up and gave me another hug and kiss. "You want a beer son?" "Dad! Nationals are in 6 weeks, you don't want to tempt me now!" We both laughed out loud. "Well we are meeting your Uncle Jack at the restaurant," he explained. "We both want to talk to you about something. I think you are going to like what we have to say," he said as he lifted his right bushy eyebrow as he only did when he was serious about something. "All the suspense is killing me Dad! What gives?" "In time! It is your Uncle's idea, and he needs to be there when we do all the talking. God you have grown into such a handsome man!" he slipped in with a big smile. Dad washed the rest of his drink down the sink, and in no time we were outside walking to his Mercedes. Summer had already hit full time, and the night air was hot and humid pushing on my face. As we drove in the car my dad started asking me about school and gymnastics. I didn't have much to report since the last time we had talked. Pretty much all the same things were happening. "So how are you and Amber doing?" he slipped in. Amber was one of the many girls I had gotten kind of serious with at school. It broke my heart to have to tell him that we had broken up. I wasn't sure how to approach the subject. I was sure he was hoping she was the one for me. I couldn't help but feel pressure on myself to find someone soon that was going to be more than another girlfriend. Finally I just blurted it out, "We broke up!" "Really? Already?" "Well she just wasn't the right person." "So there was no love there?" My dad asked stunning me. "No, I guess not!" "Well remember when you were about 5, and you asked your mom how old you had to be to get married?" "Yeah Dad! I remember it!" "What did she say to you?" "She said, someday I would fall madly in love with a person, and that every day, all day, I would think of that person. She said when I found that person, then I was old enough to get married!" My eyes were filling with water from the memory. Remembering Mom was always an emotional ordeal for me. "That's right, but remember I ain't getting any younger, and would like a grandchild some day," My dad teased. My emotions took control of me as I whimpered, "Dad, I really miss Mom a lot." Dad put his hand over mine and said, "Me too son, me too."