Date: Sat, 15 Jul 2017 12:05:53 -0400
From: Milford Slabaugh <tommyhawk1@aol.com>
Subject: The Festival of Fathers

                     THE FESTIVAL OF FATHERS
                      By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
                   WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM

     [Note: This story involves a father and underaged son having a sexual
encounter. As always, my stories are fantasies with no basis in reality
either intended or implied, I personally have a clearly defined border
between fantasy and reality in my own life and can enjoy these sort of
stories with no desire to go out and emulate them in my own life. But if
stories of this sort offend you, please, spare yourself and read no
further. I write a wide variety of stories (it's what lets me stay so
prolific) so check back next week for a story of mine that may not go too
far for you.]

     "I don't like it." Mum grumbled as she stirred the stewpot over the
campfire. Mum hadn't wanted to even come on this expedition, but Papa had
insisted. He had been dealing with the Sessemarra tribe for two years now
and this year, 1911, they had promised to induct him into the tribe. But
that also involved Mum and me becoming members of the tribe as well. We had
gone through that well enough, a lot of near-naked Amazonian tribesmen
dancing around spouting gibberish while I and a couple of other boys my age
had stood there wearing the same almost-nothing. These two boys, Messissimi
and Tayunbitti (the "i" ending meant they were males, the same names with
an "o" ending instead meant female) were my sponsors into the tribe.  Mum
had had a couple of female sponsors and they hadn't worn anything at all
above the waist, which I thought was funny (they were both older than Mum
and their dugs hung down like empty sacks) and offended her Victorian
sensibilities. When it was done, Papa had been given the tribal name of
Jibbissimi, Mum was now Bayunmunno and I was now Trebannarri. Mum's name
sounded a lot like "bay at moon-oh" but I kept my giggles down when they
called her that, even when Papa told me that her name meant
"moon-white-skin." Papa's meant "world-student" which was a good one for an
explorer-professor like him, and mine meant "sun-smile" which meant that my
giggles hadn't gone completely unnoticed by the villagers after all, but
that they liked me smiling or laughing. They laughed a lot together, too.
     I think what bothered Mum was that, as soon as the tribe had adopted
us, she had been moved into my tent and I had been placed in Papa's. Tribal
members could and did visit at any hour, and tribal men did not share
quarters with women, except when they were making children. Duties in the
tribe, also, kept the two at arm's-length most of the time, they only came
together on ceremonial occasions. Me, I was having lots of fun, my sponsors
were playing with me all day and I was learning how to hunt and fish and
we'd go swimming or play games and even in the hot afternoon, we'd share a
bed and play the games with each other's wieners in ways I'd never heard of
before in my life, not just with our hands but with our mouths and feet
working each other's pricks. I don't think Mum knew this part of my
adoption, but Papa did, he mentioned it in a way that told me he knew, then
went on to say that it was best not to mention it to Mum and to remember
when we went back to England that I couldn't play those games with my old
friends.
     But now, two weeks after our adoption, it was time for the Festival of
Fathers, for men only that was supposed to celebrate the masculine aspects
of the world. The tribe divided all things into male and female forms, and
the women had their own festival in the autumn, some three months later. It
would be a major event for us, Papa told me solemnly as he and I got
ready. That meant taking off all our clothes except for the ones of the
tribe. I liked this part, because Papa rarely gave me a look at his body
and my Papa is not a feeble, pudgy professor like many of his
colleagues. He was big, strong, muscular and looked younger than his thirty
years. With him (and me) only wearing a sort of cord about our waist which
ran also between our buttocks and up across our crotch where the cord's
threads were splayed out to make an ineffectual sort of jockstrap. Oh, it
held your stuff up against your body, but it didn't hide much of
anything. And my Daddy had quite a bit to hide with it. The women of the
tribe had gawked at Papa at our adoption (this was what Mum had gotten so
upset about), pointing and telling each other naughty things and
giggling. Papa had been embarrassed but I had been interested and sneaked
many looks over at Papa's huge dong.
     And now I was seeing it again as he pulled the cord up over his
legs. Such a huge sausage it was when it was looking, hanging and swinging
about. I thought about having that thick cock in my hand, or my mouth or my
feet and my own wiener got all stiff. It poked out of the cords on me and
stood out from my body, eager to be played with.
     Papa saw it and he just smiled. "You need to think of other things for
a while, Son." he said gently, his handsome face tolerant and kind as only
a professor of his sort can be. When you study the ways other people live,
you find attitudes of your own people to mean less and less, he'd said that
to me one time. What's right and wrong is not a matter of absolute, it was
all relative. If it was right in the eyes of the people you were with, it
was right. So I was not to worry, he'd seen others with their "piddles"
(his word for my penis, though he'd made sure I knew the right term for it)
sticking out, boys and men. Someone may point at it and joke, but
otherwise, it wouldn't matter. "But your Mum will not like it." he reproved
me softly.
     Women were banned from the village for the festival and Mum had to go
with the other women of the tribe to a second small encampment the tribe
kept for such times, she'd be sleeping for one night out in the jungle
without a tent but inside a fenced enclosure. She'd be safe and fires would
burn all night around her to ward off the jaguars and other animals of the
jungle.
     And Papa and I walked into the village proper (our camp was a short
distance from the village though separate from it), and the men of the
village were dancing in a circle. The boys were dancing in a separate
circle, and Papa and I joined their circles, me mimicking the other dancers
the best I could. Nobody griped when I messed up, though, and the attitude
was very much one of happiness. The difference was that we boys danced
around a fire, while the men danced in a circle with nothing in the
middle. I knew the fire represented the future, the empty circle
represented the past, not truly empty, for the men were the holders of the
flame of the past.
     The circle of the men opened up and formed a line that moved out to
encircle the boys. After a time, I saw that all the fathers were being
careful to stay up with their sons in the circle. And Papa was dancing
right beside me in a larger circle and our two circles had become one, past
and future, joined in the present, making the universe whole. Just outside
these circles we were dancing in were places for people to sit, logs and
such. Beyond that were the older boys and young unmarried men or men
without sons yet, of the village, only the young sons of each man were
dancing.
     The dance ended and the chieftain of the tribe had timed it with his
son so that he was at his throne (a simple but ornate chair imported from
England and made its way to this remote village by who-knew-what route),
and he took his son's hand and led him over as he took his seat. There was
some minor ritual and my father and the other men of the village did the
same, leading us over to the seats and he settled down on a log. One end of
it, that is, the other end was taken by the father of Messissimi and the
other side was the father of Tayunbitti. This was not an accident, we had
planned our entrance into the circle to be in the middle of these men who
were my father's sponsors and their sons, my own sponsors, of the tribe,
for we would watch them for what to do in the ritual to come.
     I looked around, the boys were all about my age.  Older than that and
the father and son would join the outside circle, and those men had their
own ritual in the springtime.
     There was a ritual for us young boys and our fathers now, the Festival
of Fatherhood. It started when we boys stripped our fathers of their
loin-cords which I did with a bit of savage glee.  Papa was the biggest and
strongest man in the circle, and he was mine, all mine! And I saw to my
further delight that when I pulled it down, my Papa grunted and his cock
began to swell up and harden. I was staring at it when there came a call
from the chieftain and I looked around.
     The chief's son had grabbed hold of the chieftain's cock and was
pumping on it. Just like I'd done with my mates back in England and with
the boys of the tribe in those warm afternoons.  Looked around and saw all
the other boys were doing the same to their fathers.
     And back at Papa. "Papa?"
     "This is the Festival of Fathers." he said to me. "We are members of
the tribe now. Do not worry about what is right and wrong in England, this
is right, here among our people."
     "Okay, Papa." I said and reached out with trembling fingers to grasp
my father's manhood. I knew how the dicks of my friends felt, small but
warm. But Papa's cock wasn't small, it was huge and it wasn't just warm, it
was very warm. I moved my hand up and down in tentative, timid movements
and Papa gave a quiet, approving moan, which encouraged me and I sped up on
it.  Papa's prong was so very warm and my small hand had to move up and
down quite a bit to make it move the right way, but Papa was happy and his
dong got even warmer and a clear liquid poured out of the slit on top. I
knew this stuff, the older boys I played with would leak this fluid, it was
their "starter man juice" they explained, and when they were fully grown,
it would be thick and white and lots would spurt out when they ejaculated.
     I looked over at Messissimi and saw he was using his mouth on his
father's cock now. His father was grunting and moaning. I looked over at
Tayunbitti and he had knelt down and was about to do the same to his
father, who was watching him with wide, eager eyes.
     I looked at Papa and he had the same expression on his face, and when
I knelt between his strong, muscular thighs and my face approached his
dong, he began to groan like I was pumping him hard and fast with my
hand. And as I sank down onto him, the groan grew into an ecstatic moan of
appreciation. "Oh, oh, my boy, my son. My own little Trebannari, your
father loves you so very much, my son, my smiling sun of light and life."
     As I moved my lips back and forth, my father moaned ever louder and
more urgently, enough that Tayunbitti's father, Peyonabbi, remonstrated
with him in urgent tribal language. Papa sighed, caught hold of himself,
and my actions didn't shake him as strongly, and I knew Peyonabbi had
cautioned him to not let himself ejaculate so quickly. This disappointed me
for I wanted to watch my father squirt that white jizz for me.
     Peyonabbi said something to his son and Papa overheard it and said to
me, "You will want to get my piddle as wet as you can, my son. Very wet,
wet as you can, understand."
     I did and complied, licking at the hard shaft as I smeared as much
spit on it as I could. Papa groaned again, panting hard as I did, and he
gasped, "Oh, my son, if I could only have this with you every night instead
of this one night, I would be the happiest of all men!"
     "I'd like that, too." I admitted shyly.
     "Now is the time, my son." Papa said. "You must be brave for what is
to come. It is what must be if we are to be full members of this
tribe. This is important for me, and for you as well."
     "All right, Papa." I said, as Papa leaned forward and picked me up in
his strong, strong arms. I looked over at Messissimi and saw that his
father had him in his own arms much like Papa was picking me up and I saw
him lower his son's body down over his hard cock. Messissimi groaned as his
ass was placed over his father's prong, and I realized that it was going up
Messissimi's ass.
     "Papa?" I gasped as I realized that this is what my father was about
to do to me. The night was hot, the only light was the glowing fire in the
middle of our circle, beyond was the golden tones of the men watching us
and all around the fire was the fathers and their sons, the fire giving
them a reddish-bronze color, and all these boys were in their father's
arms, their butts being stabbed with hard father-cocks, and me and my
father were a paler reddish hued team among them.
     "It will be all right, son." Papa said to me soothingly. His huge
hands were on my thighs, holding my legs suspended so that my ass was the
lowest point on my body and we were face-to-face. I put my hands on his
shoulders, his strong, strong shoulders, and I felt my objections falling
away. This was my Papa, he loved me. I trust him completely.
     "Will it hurt?" I asked, for the moans of the boys around me were
sometimes alarming.
     "There is some pain," Papa admitted, "but I will be as gentle as I
can. What you need to do is keep telling yourself that I love you and will
never cause you any more pain than I must."
     "Yes, Papa." I breathed, and Papa lowered me and I felt his glans
touch my sphincter. He let more and more of my weight bear down on it and
as he did, my asshole was slowly forced open.
     I looked at my father and I said to myself, "This is my Papa and he
loves me." And with that, my butthole quietly and completely opened for
him.
     "Good boy, my good, good boy." Papa breathed as his glans pushed into
me. "Now I push into you slowly, and try to keep relaxing and letting me
in."
     I did and Papa slowly lowered me until he had most of his length into
me. My feet were now touching the log on either side of him and I was
crouched over him, my hands on his shoulders and my feet on the log, and I
had his cock inside of me. I was now in control.
     I began to move up and down on my Papa, and Papa grunted as I milked
at his cock with my ass as I moved. The width of it caused a suction
effect, so that my bowel's walls clung to his dong as I pulled up and that
pulled the skin of his cock up with it, and then I would slide back down
and the suction would ease.
     "Oh, my son, you are wonderful, my son!" Papa moaned. I loved the way
his face looked in the firelight, all soft and open and warm. And his cock
in my butt was warm, very warm and I felt it throb as I moved, and I knew
my Papa was very close to his ejaculation and soon he would spray that hot
white stuff I'd heard about and it would go into me.
     "Are you going to shoot the white stuff into me, Papa?" I asked to be
certain.
     "Uhhh? Yes, my son, I will shoot it into you."
     "Good." I said. "I want it all inside of me."
     "That is the purpose of this festival." Papa gasped out as I moved
even faster over him. "To combine the seed of the father with the result of
his seed, the son. Past thus combines with future to make the universe
whole."
     "Yes, yes, whole, everything whole!" I grunted as I moved up and down
on my Papa's dong.
     "Oh, oh, my son, I'm about to come."
     "You will shoot it?"
     "Yes, yes, I will shoot it, I will come!"
     "Come for me, Papa, come for me!"
     "Oh, Son, oh, Son, OH, OH, SON!" Papa groaned and I felt him
ejaculating then, hot spray shooting up in my insides, and I knew I had
brought my father to his ecstasy. I felt the heat boiling in my ass and my
father's strong body writhing almost helplessly under me and I found my own
little-boy climax striking at the thought of that and I moaned in my own
pleasure and held into my father's strong, strong body as I moaned and sank
down onto his lap. His cock was softening now and that was all that kept it
from impaling me to the very depth and I don't know if I could have handled
all that, my father's cock was some nine or ten inches long, longer than
anything I'd ever felt before.
     "My boy, such a good, good boy." my father murmured to me.
     I smiled up at him feebly and asked, "Now what do we do in the
Festival?"
     "Now you and I go back to our tent and we share the same bed as we
will until the day you become a man in your own right. And then, it will be
your choice where you sleep and with whom you sleep."
     "I already know where I want to sleep from now on." I said as I
wrapped my arms around my father and kissed those warm, soft lips. "Now and
always." I promised.
     "My son, my good, good sun-smile Trebannari." he said. "Your tribal
name fits you so much better than the one we gave you at your birth."
     As I had been named for my mother's father, I was quick to agree,
Quentin was a name that no boy should have to carry. "I'll made all the
boys in England call me Trebannari from now on." I swore.
     "Let us go back to our tent." My father held me in place as he stood
up and I found that the glans of his cock was still holding inside of my
ass. Papa felt it too but he didn't do anything about it, he carried me
gently in his arms out into the jungle and back to our camp. And ahead of
us was the many more days we would be in this camp.
     Mum intended to return to England soon, I knew. But I also knew I
wasn't going to go with her after all, that I was staying here with Papa
the full two more years he intended to live among this Amazon tribe!
     And I was right.

                             THE END
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                   WWW.TOMMYHAWKSROGUEMOON.COM