Date: Sat, 26 Dec 2020 15:47:58 +0000 (UTC) From: Boy Daddy Subject: BOY DADDY, Chapter 27 "Boy Daddy" -- Badgod69@yahoo.com The following is a work of fiction. It is not based on any real events or people. Shoot me an email -- I like hearing from readers. Please, consider donating to Nifty, and keep porn free. BOY DADDY, Part 27 Over the next two days while Sam was at school, I loaded up my truck with our belongings, drove around the block to the front of Bob's house, and moved our stuff into our new home. The bulk of it was my camera equipment, my entire drug supply loaded into five crates, our clothes and some personal items, plus a very few pieces of art and some furniture. Most everything else was already available at Bob's, and of better quality. Bob had moved to Rhode Island to care for his ailing mother and had signed over the property to me a few weeks prior, but we hadn't made any effort to move until now. It was kind of sad leaving our little house, the sight of so many firsts, not only for Sam and myself, but for innumerable kids who had lost their virginity or gotten pregnant or joined a gang-bang during our weekend parties. Before leaving for the last time, I opened all the windows and aired-out the place for a brief while. After nearly two years of me and my son smelling the place up with our natural sweat scents -- not to mention all the hormonal, rutting teens we gathered -- the entire house smelled like a dank gymnasium or locker room. So much sperm had been flung in every room and on every piece of furniture that a permanent aroma of stale, dried cum hung in the air. I sat on the carpet in the living room, noticing how strongly seedy it smelled, and lit a final, ceremonial joint. The cum-stink got me instantly hard, so I hauled out my junk and shot a nice, relaxing load while I got stoned, a final offering to the nasty rug. When I was through and had stuffed my oozing prick back inside my sweat shorts, I locked the door behind me, eager to take up possession of our new and much larger place. Sam and I both kept calling the big house `Bob's house', even though we were now the more-or-less-permanent residents of the grand old place. It would take time before it felt like home. There were four bedrooms in the house, all upstairs. I chose the master bedroom for Sam and me, and the second-best -- next door to ours -- for Nick's and Ben's use whenever they wanted it. The other bedrooms were already put in use. One served as the command center for all the surveillance cameras and mics that blanketed the little house and the sex shed in the backyard. The room looked like the control deck on a spaceship -- banks of monitors, electrical cables and cords, and lots of tiny glowing lights. The last bedroom was an unused guest room, and Bob had taken part of it to store cardboard boxes full of who-knew-what. Examining their contents would make a fun project for a rainy afternoon. My plan was to take his stuff down to the basement and turn this room into a studio for live cam shows and making our own porn. Downstairs, there was a large, old-fashioned kitchen, augmented with modern appliances. The living room was huge, and, separated by sliding wooden doors, a smaller formal dining room opened off it. Two bathrooms, one downstairs, the other upstairs, featured claw-foot porcelain tubs and large, modern walk-in showers. There were more than enough closets and tiny rooms that served unknown purposes in past times. Two fireplaces, both functional, were a special attraction for me, since I've always loved having sex in front of a fire, as close to it as possible, so I can feel the heat on my body as I screw. One was in the living room, and the other was in our bedroom. I couldn't wait to inaugurate them. The front door opened onto a small foyer, facing a staircase to the upper landing. Off the foyer was the long hallway that lead straight back to the kitchen, and, about midway, to another set of sliding doors that also opened onto the dining room. The upstairs landing was wide and roomy, running on all four sides of the house. Besides the four bedrooms and bathroom, there were two, small sitting rooms, one of which Bob had turned into a library, while the other sat empty, as well as a few more storage closets. Finally, an old, dank basement spanned the entire length of the house; a huge cobwebby attic topped it all. Altogether, Bob had pretty much kept an early-1900s aesthetic in the way he had furnished and appointed the house. It was crammed with curiosities that he had collected over the years, and most of the furniture and decorative work was quirkily Edwardian. Several huge, potted palms were placed around the living room and the upstairs landing, making it feel even more evocative of an earlier century. I guess I'd have to say the house was beautiful, but it was too old-fashioned and heavy-looking for my tastes. It also felt too gay for my comfort. Sam thought it was wild. He liked it a lot more than I did, but he was quickly able to get me to see it through his eyes as something exotic and vaguely mysterious; I quickly came to feel more appreciative and comfortable with it all. Sam said he bet the house was haunted, and I didn't really disagree. We both thought it was exciting. The first night we spent there as the new masters of the house, I introduced Sam to the pleasures of firelight sex. We had unpacked our belongings after Sam got home from school that afternoon, and then made dinner in the enormous kitchen. Everything felt new and strange, from having so much space, to using kitchenware that wasn't `ours'. We took our dinner into the dining room but dawdled over it, gawking in wonder at our new surroundings. Both of us continually noticed new details and pointed them out to the other, speaking in subdued voices with hushed laughter, as if reluctant to disturb the people who lived there. When we'd finished eating, I placed a dose of Molly in front of Sam and popped another into my mouth. Smiling conspiratorially, Sam placed the Molly on his tongue and drained his glass of wine. I did the same. From there, I suggested we "retire to the living room", which made Sam laugh, and once there, I filled two glasses with double shots of whiskey from the antique drinks cart. I had packed a bong with some opium I had recently scored, and we passed it back and forth until we'd drained our glasses. By that time, we had a nice buzz. Together, we cleaned up our dinner mess, washed up, and got the kitchen spotless before turning off the lights and heading upstairs to our bedroom. While Sam had earlier been putting together a salad in the kitchen, I had prepared a fire in our bedroom fireplace and gotten it going. I knew it would set the tone the moment I opened the door and Sam got his first look at it. Flickering shadows played across the ceiling and walls before distorting and disappearing into darkness. Other than the fire, there was no other light. The room was warm and inviting, and the huge, intricately carved, four-poster bed loomed enticingly. Sam whispered "wow..." as he crossed the hardwood floor towards the fireplace. A massive bearskin covered the floor in front of it. Before Sam stepped onto the thick pelt, he quickly kicked off his shoes and removed his sweaty socks, the better to savor the sensual pleasure of fur on flesh. The second I entered the room I yanked my shirt off and shoved my shorts down to my feet. I kicked them off into the dark and was naked before Sam had taken more than a step onto the bearskin. "Take your clothes off and lay on it naked; it's one of the best things in the world," I said. Sam shot me a glance. "How do you know? When were you laying on fur rugs?" "You don't know everything about me," I shot back, two brothers affectionately sniping at each other, "I've laid on furs hella times." "Yeah, I bet!" He made me laugh. "Like when? Name one time," he said, chuckling, as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it at me. "Shut up, punk," I laughed back at him. I couldn't take my eyes off Sam as he undressed, one moment silhouetted against the blazing fire, then suddenly bathed in a brilliant, fleeting light. When he was naked, he laid down in the center of the bearskin and stretched luxuriously, like a big cat, completely relaxed, secure and content. He sighed deeply. "Damn, you're totally right, dude." He softly growled as he slowly slid his limbs over the thick fur. "This feels amazing!" I sat down beside him, the warm pelt caressing my naked ass and balls as I settled. Sam propped himself up on an elbow, staring at me and grinning. "I feel like were in a movie," he said softly, stroking my thigh. "I know, me, too. But we're not. It's all for real, Sam; this is our new house!" I laughed. I stretched out beside him and wrapped my arms around his back, gathering him to me for a profoundly deep and satisfying kiss. He forced his thigh between my legs and half-straddled me, the heat of his flesh instantly enflaming my desire to feel his whole weight on top of me. Our mouths hungrily glued together, I gently hauled him over, still clenched in my embrace, as he adjusted his body to rest comfortably on mine. His strong hands ranged over my sides and flanks, grasping and stroking my flesh, then moved to cup my scruffy face for a renewed bout of kissing, this time covering my throat and face, then up to my eyelids and brow, with his hot-breathed kisses. His cock hardened instantly, the heat of it throbbing against my stomach, pressing against my equally engorged dick. The tugs and light pulls on our pubes, tangling and twining as we ground our loins together, acted like tiny jolts of electricity, sending jerking spasms through our groins. I slid my hairy legs over Sam's, now as hairy as my own. The feel of his silky hair against mine, coupled with the thick fur of the rug beneath us, was deliriously sensuous. As we wrestled in love, the heat from the flames warmed our sweat. It felt as if we had become one moist, writhing thing as the drugs started kicking in hard for both of us. Our natural rhythms slowed down simultaneously, and Sam pulled back to gaze at the flames, eyes glittering with dancing firelight. A slow, subtle smile appeared. "J.J....dude...I'm a total fag for you," he murmured, then looked down into my eyes. "You know how long I've been in love with you? All my life. I was in love when I was born, I think." My heart and cock throbbed faster, and it took me a moment to respond. Sam was the most adored and precious thing in my life: My son, my lover, the other half of me without whom I had come to feel less than whole. When I found my voice, I said, "Oh, Sam, my love.... You're the best thing that's ever happened to me, the best thing in my life. I love you more than anything in the world, more than anyone I've ever known, more than any God I'm supposed to adore." He laid down with his face beside mine. All I had to do was turn my head, and our lips met for long, tender kisses. As our passion flamed again, Sam climbed fully on and slowly bucked and twisted his hips into my up-thrusting groin. Both rigid cocks were slippery by now, and as they slid against each other I clamped my hot hands on his moist ass-cheeks. We gasped into each other's mouths. As our kiss broke, Sam reared up and straddled me, lightly sitting on my stomach. "I want you in me," he slurred, half-wasted but utterly present. I didn't say a word; I didn't need to. Sam spat in his hand and reached behind himself to stroke my stiff prick, adding his saliva to the copious pre-cum already dripping down the shaft. "Mmm, you're so wet," he whispered, closing his eyes and smiling open-mouthed. He slid himself back until he was able to squat and position his ass directly above my throbbing cock, now streaming with pre-cum. I couldn't wait to be deep within his warm, anal embrace. Our eyes locked on each other's face, my son slowly impaled himself on my prick, sending hallucinatory waves of bliss through my hyper-sensitive cock. He was so warm, so slick; I slid effortlessly into his deepest reaches, held and welcomed in his interior world. We stayed motionless for a few moments, my matted pubes mashed against his flesh, savoring the wild ecstasy of hesitation, thrilling to our senses being overwhelmed by the slightest move. Sam leaned back on his hands, allowing me to see my cock glide majestically in and out of his wide-stretched anus and the dark, curling hair that surrounded it. His head thrown back in abandon, he slowly, elegantly, rose and fell on my up-thrusting dick, sighing and softly groaning in his pleasure. I reached out and took his nipples in both hands, pinching them lightly at first. His chest undulated at my touch and I increased the pressure of my pinching until he hissed in his breath and loudly grunted. I gently pulled his face down to meet mine, and Sam adjusted his body, now allowing me to thrust freely as he crouched over me. As forceful as our kisses were, they didn't have the ravenous, animalistic quality that usually accompanied our coupling. Instead, we were tender and gentle with each other; it was exactly right. A profound spirit of love and connectedness suffused every move we made. Or, it could have been the drugs. We had enough powerful substances in our systems to make anything seem dreamy and surreal; yet while we were definitely drugged, this feeling was different. It was stronger than the drugs, clearer and deeper, and it came from the heart. Neither of us spoke beyond making sounds and sighs in reaction to what our bodies silently conveyed. Sam kept clenching his ass muscles around my dick and it brought me to the edge, fast. As the speed of my bucking hips increased, slapping loudly against his sweaty flesh, he reared up, reached behind himself again and slipped a finger up my ass, triggering my orgasm. "Oh fuck, oh god, I love you, Sam," I gasped involuntarily, overcome with emotion and the intense stimulation. I thrashed like a fish out of water and moaned as my balls released their seed deep inside him. When my thrusts slowed and I lay spent, Sam swung himself off me and knelt near my head, his magnificent cock inches from my face. I tilted my head and lapped his sweating, hairy balls with the flat of my tongue, knowing how full they were with hot sperm ready to boil over. Sam hissed and grunted with every lick. But I wanted him to plant his seed inside me, more than anything in the world. I turned my head and looked at his handsome face, delightfully startled anew at how closely we resembled each other. I smiled up at him, and he mirrored my smile back. Shifting my body a bit was enough to signal my son what I needed from him. Without a word, Sam repositioned himself and took my hairy calves in his hands, raising my legs just enough for him to sink his cock into my core. With no effort at all, I took him all the way inside me. The opium and Molly had relaxed me thoroughly. I had never felt more powerfully full of Sam's cock. I imagined I could feel it in the back of my throat, trying to snake its way out of my mouth. I swallowed hard and the sensation evaporated. As Sam began slowly pumping my ass, he leaned down and ravished my throat, alternating nips and bites with kisses. Into my ear, he whispered, "I wish you could get pregnant; I wish you could have my baby." A thrill shot through me like a bolt of lightning. "I wish I could, too, my love," I gasped back. The force of his thrusts immediately increased, and he slammed into me frantically, unable any longer to control himself. When he began his familiar high-pitched whining, I pulled his face to mine and plunged my thick, searching tongue into his mouth, instantly wrestling with his squirming muscle. Sam huffed, then grunted, then roared into my mouth without breaking our kiss. I prepared to receive his sperm. With a final, massive heave, my boy ejaculated like a young god. Completely owning me, he blasted his pent-up load of semen deep in my bowels, his head now thrown back, moaning loudly, sweat streaming down his sides. When he was drained, Sam collapsed beside me and curled into my body. We were both panting for breath, both wringing wet with perspiration. As much as I hated to move, I got up and went across the landing to the bathroom. I sat on the toilet and let Sam's load flow out of me. Wetting a washcloth, I washed off my dick, then soaked the cloth again to bring back to Sam. When I laid down beside him, I tenderly, reverently washed his greasy prick with the cloth like I was washing the body of Christ. Once done, Sam left to use the toilet. While he was gone, I filled our bedroom bong with more opium and fired it up. When Sam walked back in, I handed it to him as I exhaled a cloud of pungent smoke, filling the space with a sweet, earthy fragrance. Laying down beside me, Sam took a few deep tokes before putting the bong down and cuddling into my side again. "Let's dream right here," he mumbled sleepily. In no time at all, he was sound asleep, pressed tight against me. I stroked his hair and kissed his forehead as if he were a little boy. Gently, I sat up and reached over him to gather the bearskin and pull it over his naked body, then gathered my side and pulled it over us both. We were warm and comfortable, cocooned in a sensuous sleeping bag made of thick fur. I fell asleep in moments, my arms wrapped around my son, my lover.