Date: Thu, 13 Dec 2007 02:41:49 +0000
From: xangel.author@gmail.com
Subject: Bayberry Broken Hearts

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

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in any way without the express written consent of the author.  The author
grants www.nifty.org and its
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DISCLAIMER:  The following story is FICTIONAL.  It contains descriptions
of homosexual activities between father and son.  If you are not over 18
years of age, or if you find this type of story offensive, or viewing
this material is illegal where you are, then please DO NOT READ IT!  If
you choose to read it, Enjoy it!


Dedicated to my Dad Up North!!


A soft snow fell on the countryside of a the small town of Bayberry,
Michigan and Douglas Weiss watched it, swirling the dark contents of his
glass absently as his wife sat behind him, sewing the small buttons on
the front of the shirt she'd made for their son. Douglas thought of his
son, Hank. Hank was varsity all-star and all around everything at the
school he attended. His girlfriend was one of the better-looking girls on
the cheerleading squad and seemed to be headed toward a bright future in
an Ivy League school. Hank seemed to be right behind her, grades in the
upper A's and aspirations of law or medicine. Douglas couldn't be
prouder of his son or more ashamed of himself as he thought of the other
parts of his son he secreted away. The broad shoulders, dark, wavy hair
and compact body that was always hidden beneath a jersey, a blousy
t-shirt or dress shirt and jacket.

            Douglas drained the glass and replaced it on the desk. He
kissed his wife and went to their bedroom, undressed fully and went into
the adjoining bathroom where he stepped into the shower and turned on
only the cold water. He waited until the thoughts of Hank washed
themselves down the drain along with the icy water and when he was sure
they were gone from his mind, he turned off the spray and stepped out of
the small cubicle. Wrapping the towel around his waist, he took the
electric razor and scraped away the day's growth from his face. He was
staring into the reflection of his father and of what his handsome son
would look like at his age. All the men in their family had the same good
looks and aged exceptionally well.

            Again thoughts of his son came into Douglas' mind and again,
he forced himself to think of something else. Replacing the razor, he was
going to just go to bed and forget it all when he felt familiar hands on
his back and knew that his wife was standing behind him. This was not the
time, he thought to himself as she pressed herself against him. He could
feel her breasts through her clothes and knew she was going to want him
to "perform". He did it when she got like this. He had to...to keep up
the ruse. He didn't want his son to be disappointed that his father
liked men. Douglas let his wife take off his towel and take hold of his
manhood and as she slid her soft palm along it, he thought of Hank and
transferred the softness to the rough and calloused one of his son.

            As his wife turned him, he thought of Hank's body and the
slopes, planes and delicious valleys it contained. When his wife kissed
him, it was his son whose pliant lips met his and moved against him. The
tongue that slipped into his mouth, it was Hank's that met his. When the
mouth moved along his chest and stomach, he tangled his hands into the
thick, wavy hair of his son and guided the seeking mouth of his offspring
to the hardening shaft of his dick. He was careful to call out the name
of the woman who knelt now and serviced him but in his mind, he screamed,
"Hank!"


            The small silver car navigated the short street to the
girl's house and Hank looked anxiously for her house. It had been a long
night and he was ready to just drop her off and go home to his own bed.
The party had her idea and to keep up the charade, he had gone along with
her and pretended to be excited about it. The truth was, it was full of
dull people with dull eyes and duller expressions hidden behind smiles
and eyes that only pretended to sparkle with "holiday cheer".

            "Did you have a good time?" The girl to his right asked as
she gripped his free hand. "I think you did, you certainly seemed like
it."

            "It was great," he lied, pulling his hand from hers gently.
"I need both hands to drive on these streets since they've not salted
the roads yet."

            "My mom is asking about June, you know."

            "June?" Hank asked absently.

            "Most weddings happen in June." She responded in a syrupy
sing-song voice.

            "Ah," He made the connection. "Wedding, huh? It's only
been a year and we're not really in the best positions, financially, to
get married."

            "Silly," she teased. "You know my parents will pay for it
all."

            They pulled into the driveway of her house and Hank was
thankful there were no lights on in the large house. He left the car
running as he shut off the lights, hoping she would get the hint and just
get out. That wasn't what was on her mind as she leaned over and kissed
him. Hank inwardly groaned his frustration but put his arm around the
girl and held her to him. He returned her kiss and let her slip her
tongue into his mouth. Hank didn't flinch when her hand went into the
pit of his crotch and he didn't pull away when she slid his zipper down.

            "Are you really sure you want to leave so quickly?" She
asked, pulling back and giving him what Hank was sure she thought was her
best "starlet smile". She even added a lick of the lips and he forced
himself to smile back. "I can give you three minutes of wonderful before
you leave."

            "Sure." He nodded, hoping he sounded excited about it. "Go
for it. Make it four since we've got the heater on." He added, thinking
he sounded stupid.

            As the girl slid her hand under his shirt, he let his seat
back a bit and slid his mind into that space he kept just for himself in
times like this. Closing his eyes, he saw a sturdy, male frame bent in
the seat beside him and a square jaw sliding along the shaft of his dick,
a firm male tongue wrapping itself around him and a pair of masculine
lips inching down him, an angular nose burying itself in his thick black
pubic bush and masculine teeth gently scraping him as they went back to
mouth the tip of his dick.

            "That good?"

            The sound of her voice shattered his fantasy and he had to
open his eyes to look at her, otherwise she would stop and they'd have
to "talk" about him not giving the proper and flattering response her
comment was fishing for.

            "The best, baby." He responded, adding the extra lilt in
his voice he knew would make her continue without protest.

            She did.

            Leaning back in the seat, Hank envisioned his masculine mouth
sliding along the inside of his leg and up the hardness of his cock
Tangling his fingers into the mass of hair, he told himself it was a
short cut, thick and wavy but masculine. This trick always worked. She
would blow him and in his mind, he felt the soft stubble of a day's
facial growth, smelled the distinctly masculine scent he smelled in the
locker room and in his mind, it was a man's mouth who brought him to
his...uh...yeah...FUCK!

            "Dammit, Hank!" The girl screamed, jerking away from his
still-spurting cock. "I've told you to tell me when you're going to do
that!"

            Looking down, Hank saw his creamy load continue to spatter
his inner thigh, his dark pants and the car seat. It was like an
autopilot action since the harpy-scream of his girlfriend ruined both the
fantasy of his mystery man's mouth and the reality of his pent-up
orgasm.

            "I'm sorry," He said stupidly as he reached over to take
some restaurant napkins from the glove box. "You were so good...I just
got lost in it." He lied, using the napkin to wipe the smallest trace of
him from her face. "I'm sorry." He repeated, waiting for the visual
"okay", which the girl reluctantly gave.

            "I need to go," She said, her hand on the door handle
before Hank could say anything. "I'll call you later tomorrow, after
class."

            The door closed and Hank sat for a long moment in his car.
When he saw the front door close and a light come on in the living room,
he tucked his cum-soaked dick back into his dark pants and carefully
pulled his car back out into the street. Frustrated, he turned down the
street he lived on and quietly into the garage of his house. Wadding the
napkin up, he shoved it into his pants pocket and took the keys from the
ignition. The bitch, he said to himself as he got out and headed into the
house. Why do I keep putting up with this garbage, he asked as he
silently let himself in. Because, he answered himself, your father would
throw a gasket if he knew you were a fag.

            Closing the side door behind him, he dropped his keys quietly
on the counter and turned toward the refrigerator. He took the first
bottle of soda and twisted the top savagely, downing half the bottle in
one drink. A plate of turkey made a good sandwich and he gathered it and
the soda and headed up to his room. The house was quiet, thankfully. That
meant his parents were in bed and hopefully asleep. Making his way up the
stairs and halfway down the hallway, he was about to head into his room
when the distinctive sounds of sex caused him to pause.

            "Yeah, Doug...yeah!" He heard. It was his mother, her usual,
stale banter resounding in the hallway and quiet of the house. "Yeah, do
that harder. Yeah, Doug, do that to me harder." She said, her voice
breathy and her tone fish-cold but Hank was sure that she thought she
must sound A-List Porn-Starrish! "That's it! That's so good, Doug. Do
it to me harder, honey!"

            That was her usual banter. Hank shook his head and slipped
into his room. In the dark, he made his way to the nightstand and side of
his bed where he sat down and put his sandwich and drink down. When his
hands were empty, he stripped his clothes off and slipped under the
covers. Comfortable, he finished off his sandwich and soda and soon,
drifted off to sleep ^Ö his mother's porn-star dialogue resounding
dreadfully in his head.



            The next morning, a gentle hand shook Hank's shoulder. He
opened his eyes to a blur with dark hair and blinked away the sleep to
see the blur find focus as his mother. She smiled at him and he sat up a
bit.

            "Wake up, honey." She said, her voice like the pinging of a
car door. "I've got good news. School today was cancelled. You get to
stay home."

            "So why are you waking me up?" He asked groggily and felt
his heart and stomach sink when she told him that his girlfriend would be
coming over a little after noon to spend the "free day" with him.

            "Won't that be nice?" His mother chimed. "You two will
get to spend the entire day together. An extension to last night, huh?"
She added, the vocal "wink" of the statement causing his stomach to
plummet farther.

            "Sure," he lied, turning over and pulling the blanket and
sheet back over his head.



            "It's almost noon!"

            "Yeah, yeah," Hank responded to the proclamation. "I know,
I know...wonderful." He added as he tried to find a deeper part of his
bed.

            "You need to get up, son." The voice sounded again.

            "I know!" Hank shouted, throwing back the covers, ready to
confront his mother for what seemed like the fifteenth time. "I know,
already, you don't have to --"

            Douglas stood in the doorway of his son's room, dressed in
gray slacks, a darker gray sweater and burgundy shirt. Both hands were in
his pockets and he looked as if he were going to take in a speech from a
rather bland politician. He regarded his son with a curious look as Hank
swung around and let his feet touch the floor.

            His son was naked.

            Douglas moved his eyes from the boy's broad shoulders down
to his chest and the richly red nipples and then to the planes of his
abdomen and the valley of his crotch where beneath a nest of dark hair, a
hard and veined cock struck out. No doubt Hank had the typical morning
hard on but it was no less impressive, Douglas thought as he took in the
boy's balls and on down to his hard and muscled legs. Even the boy's
feet were sexy, his toes perfectly rounded and wiggling as Hank tried to
find his head.

            "You need to get up and get ready to meet your girlfriend.
She called a few minutes ago and is on her way over." Douglas told his
son, thinking what a luck thing this girl was to have this to come over
to. "You don't want to keep her waiting."

            "Of course not," Hank mumbled as he stood and threw the
sheet back to the bed. Can't have her waiting when she's come to see me
on what will probably be the last day I have free of her this week, he
thought to himself as he shambled toward the doorway and his father in
it.

            "You might want to grab a robe since your mother's still
here." Douglas said, feeling his pants tighten. "Try and be a bit more
respectful, son."

            "Sure." Hank said, pulling a dark navy robe over himself as
he fought to find the armholes through his stupor. "So you guys are
staying? It's going to be the four of us snowed in like this?"

            "That's the plan."

            "Swell." Hank responded sarcastically as he headed down the
hallway and to the bathroom, robed and decent.



            Much later, the house was a den of high-pitched laughs and
giggles as Hank watched his girlfriend and his mother pour over wedding
catalogs and Christmas books, pointing to this "adorable" thing and
that "precious" trinket. From the couch, he looked to his dad for some
semblance of help but his father proved to be worthless, caught in the
same female trap that he seemed to find himself in. Both men were dragged
into conversations about lace patterns, stemware, flatware, and floral
arrangements.

            Douglas remembered the same sort of conversations when he and
Hank's mother married. His mother-in-law had done exactly this same
thing to him and he'd hated it equally. Looking to his son, he saw the
posture of the boy, turned away and not very interested in the goings on
of the wedding he obviously wasn't all that interested in fantasizing
about.

            "It's what every girl dreams of." Hank's mother chimed in
after a comment about a wedding dress with a train. "That one day when
she can be a princess."

            "And the man just gets to be the frame for her picture."
Hank responded dully.

            "Now what does that mean?" Both women asked, almost in
unison.

            "It's just that everyone fawns over the bride and makes
sure she's in the best dress with the best lighting and all that...and
the groom just has to stand there and be ordered around and smile pretty
in the pictures."

            "It's the bride's day." His girlfriend said, rather put
out by his not being in the spirit of things. "Why shouldn't she be the
center of attention?"

            "Because there are two people doing this, maybe?" Hank said
quietly. "After all, there are two figure things on the cake, not one."

            "Well maybe it will be time for a change with this wedding
if you're going to be so grumpy." She said back, pinching his cheek
like he was five.

            "Maybe..."

            Hank stood and left the room.

            "Men," His mother said as he left, rolling her eyes. "They
just don't get it. That's why the women are always in charge of these
things."

            "Women and their best girl-guys!" The younger of the two
women said, swishing her hand through the air and laying it on her chest.
"Mother's decorator is one ^Ö throws a pillow and it lands in just the
right spot! He's got the best eye for that sort of thing."

            "Honey, they all do!"

            Douglas sighed. He wasn't one of `those' guys. He wasn't
throwing pillows and decorating weddings. He wasn't swishing around in a
powder pastel suit with an overly groomed dog and a diamond studded
collar to match the pooch's. He was a man's man. There were football
trophies and basketball awards in his office, lining one wall. Signed
baseballs and sports jerseys not flowers and whatever the hell
"lithographs" were. Having had quite enough of that conversation,
Douglas excused himself and left the room.



            Finding his son in the small side room off the kitchen,
Douglas eased into the doorway and leaned on the frame. Hank stood
watching the falling snow through the frosted panes of glass, his face
turned toward the window.

            "You okay?" Douglas asked.

            "I'm good."

            "You sure? You look awfully distant."

            "I'm good." Hank repeated.

            "This wedding stuff a little much for you?" Douglas took a
chance and stepped into the small room, his hands in his pockets. "It
sounds like they've already got your house picked out and your kids
named too."

            "Don't I know it."

            "And that's not what you want?"

            "I don't know, I guess it is." Hank said, conviction
lacking in his voice. "I mean I guess that's what every guy wants
isn't it? A wife, a family, house and good job?"

            "If he's all-American." Douglas answered, thinking it was
the best answer he could give his seeking son. "It's the American
dream."

            "Sounds like a nightmare." Hank muttered but didn't dare
voice so that it could be clearly made out.

            "What was that son?" Douglas asked, taking a few steps
closer to his son in the window. "Did you say you wanted triplets and a
Brownstone?"

            "That's what I said." Hank lied, speaking up.

            Douglas came into the room and stood for a moment behind his
son. A tentative hand went to the boy's shoulder and Hank resisted the
urge to lean into it. It was a gesture of support not a time to be weak.
He was strong and had always been strong for his dad but he had to admit
to himself that the hand felt good. The support behind it felt good, as
well. Hank leaned forward, afraid to accept more of that support for fear
it would make him look needy and weak.

            "They're just being women." Douglas spoke and tried to be
comforting. "Don't let it scare you."

            "It doesn't. I'm cool." Hank said, feeling the tears form
but swearing he wouldn't let them fall. "I know that stuff doesn't
mean anything. But you don't get it really. I hear that wedding stuff
all the time."

            "Your mother did too before we got married."

            "How did you handle it?" Hank asked, looking at his father
in the glass. "I mean, didn't it make you crazy?"

            "Sometimes," Douglas smiled. "But it was worth it in the
long run."

            "What do you ^Ö oh, okay." Hank blushed, realizing it was
him that made it "worth it". They stood like that for a long moment,
looking at each other. "Thanks."

            "Not at all."

            "Think we might go out for dinner?" Hank asked, raising his
eyebrows. "I think I could do with the fresh air."

            "The roads don't seem that bad, I guess we could do that."
Douglas said, taking the opportunity to put his hand back on his son's
shoulder with the pretense of looking out the window. "You might want to
go get the coats as a preemptive strike. They can't argue if we're
ready to walk out the door."

            Hank waited a few more minutes before leaving the small room
and the small comfort his father afforded him just by being there.
Watching his son go through the glass, Douglas was hard in his pants from
both the contact and the way the boy looked in his jeans. The thought was
immediately followed with one of chastisement. That's your son, he told
himself, but couldn't deny the hardening in his pants. Focusing on the
chill in the night outside, he made himself a little more able to walk
and when he finally turned from the frosted panes, he was softer and the
ache for his son duller than before.

            Hank stood in the foyer with his mother and girlfriend by the
time Douglas had gotten his own coat, car keys and wallet. The four of
them made their way out and into the garage, the women opting for the
back seat so they could continue their wedding talk and leave the "men
folk" to talk amongst themselves.

            The weather was permissive to driving and soon, Douglas had
pulled up in the front of the restaurant to let the women out. When
they'd cleared the car, Hank turned to his father with a smile. "Ever
think about just leaving them here? You and me going somewhere else, just
the two of us?"

            Douglas felt the front of his pants stiffen again. He would
liked to have taken his son to the nearest hotel room, taken him out of
that coat and shirt and kissed him until he screamed for it to stop but
that wasn't going to happen. Instead, he smiled back at his son and
agreed that yes, sometimes he felt like just driving off and forgetting
it all. What he didn't add was "forget I'm married, forget I have
marital responsibilities, forget that woman and pursue my son's
rock-hard body."

            They parked the car and headed into the restaurant to find
the women having already ordered wine and cheese, bread and appetizers.
Hank sat on the opposite side of his girlfriend but across from his
father. The table was small and Hank's knees were touching both his
girlfriend's and his mother's. A metal column supported the center of
the table but just on the other side of it, Hank felt the tips of his
father's shoes against his own and there was something about it that
made him feel...strange.

            Dinner came and went, followed by conversation and more talk
of weddings, lace, receptions and parties.

            "What about a bachelor party?" Douglas asked, giving his
son a wink. "Now that's a party only us men can plan."

            A sound of disgust from both women silenced that topic and
soon, it returned to the business at hand. Hank got up when the topic
shifted to tuxedos and headed to the bathroom. When they got around to
mothers of the brides and what they would wear, Douglas followed his son,
anxious to get out of that particular conversation.

            "Rough crowd when they get started." He said, coming into
the small room with just his son, who stood against the wall behind the
door. "Think I might hide out in here for a while."

            "I know I am." Hank said, his hands behind him, holding
himself up with them. "I'm ready for tonight to be over."

            Douglas looked at his son, into the dark brown eyes that
belonged to his own mother. He saw the upturned eyebrows and the look of
complete helplessness that his son wore and it was as if the boy was
twelve again and had just fallen from his bicycle on the pavement of the
driveway.  Before he could stop himself, he crossed the breadth of the
doorway and took his son in his arms. In that moment, the breath was torn
from his lungs, blood ceased to flow and nerve endings exploded! It was
beyond dreamlike.

The boy's shape, the muscular flow; the soft down that was sure to cover
exquisite flesh, the macho scent of strong and heavy cologne betrayed the
lithe but muscular form beneath his clothes astounded Douglas with purest
grace and beauty. The older man could not remove his hands and was
profoundly immobilized, simultaneously, with love and lust. It was the
sweetest dream come to silent life.

A particular ache manifested itself in the overwhelming need and desire
to hold his son closely, firmly, yet tenderly, in the warmth of his arms
and Douglas gave in to it. Standing there, he realized how much he'd
longed to embrace Hank's warm and welcoming torso, while drinking in the
fragrance of his youthful pheromones, knowing the boy's frame would fit
perfectly in his arms, this beautiful, intoxicating boy!  It wasn't
difficult, standing here, holding Hank to imagine his arms surrounding
his son, the front of his chest and stomach pressed securely against
Hank's seductive frame ^Ö was nude. Douglas imagined his hands caressing
and kneading the firm flesh of Hank's shoulders and back and crest of
his luscious melons. Douglas almost felt his own lips nibble
and suck every dip and rise of his son's neck, jaw and ears...

"Dad?" Hank said, breaking into the daydream.

"I'm sorry." Douglas said, releasing the boy immediately. "I'm
sorry...I didn't mean to be so...clingy and square."

"You weren't." Hank said, quietly. "It was okay, really."

"I'm sorry..." Douglas repeated, unsure what else to say.

"Dad, chill out...it's okay." Hank said, reaching for his father's
forearm. "It's cool, really."

Hank's hand was like a hot branding iron that Douglas could feel through
his clothing. Looking up, the older of the two saw that they were inches
apart. There was a claustrophobic feel to the small men's room then.
Hank's face was the only thing he saw. He was about to say something, to
turn and leave when door opened on the two of them, slamming him in the
shoulder. Another man tried pushing his way into the small room and
Douglas moved to avoid being hit. The third man saw the two of them and
gave each of them a "look".

"My son's very upset." Douglas quickly added, avoiding the man's
eyes. "We were just in here to talk."

"Yeah, okay," the third man said, irritated. "But this isn't a
conference room even though people come in to do their business."

"We were just leaving." Hank said, pulling at the door so that he could
squeeze by the other two men to do just that.



The ride back to their house was quiet. The women in the backseat said
little, having had too much food and almost exhausting the wedding
conversation. The men in the front shared an awkward silence. When the
car pulled into the garage, Douglas stayed in the driver's seat while
his wife exited the vehicle. Hank oddly stayed in the front seat, as
well. It seemed like the two of them had the same idea but it was Douglas
that voiced it to his wife.

"I think I might take the young lady home while the roads are still
drivable." He said, indicating Hank's girlfriend. "She's had a long
day and I'm sure her parents will be worried if she doesn't come home
in this weather."

"It was lovely to see you and catch up, dear." His wife said with a
smile. "You boys be careful. I think I'm going to go on off to bed.
I'm exhausted."

With a polite kiss, Douglas was back on the road and headed down their
street. At the end, a large detour sign indicated another side street
that was almost a quarter of a mile longer around than their current
route. Under his breath, Hank's father swore a bit but took the detour,
navigating slowly in the not-so-cleared street. In the back seat, the
young woman watched the lights along the street grow fewer between until
finally, the last on the block signaled her house. After the car had
driven up into the drive and she had exited the vehicle did she bid
Douglas goodnight. Hank walked her to the door and after seeing her
inside, returned to the car, closing the door hurriedly against the cold.
In that short time, it had started to snow again.

"Are you okay?" Hank asked his father as the car inched out of the
driveway and back onto the road. "You've been acting strange since the
restaurant."

"I'm just concerned about what happened in the men's room, son."
Douglas said truthfully as he turned and headed home. "It's not...I
mean, I'm not..."

"What?" Hank pressed, diverting his attention from the road to his
father.

"I just don't want things becoming odd between us."

"Odd in what way?"

Douglas afforded his son a glance and was back on the road with his eyes
but his mind roamed his son's body again...like he had with his hands in
the men's room. Damn it your own son, you pervert, Douglas thought to
himself as he continued to entertain the thoughts of what might have
happened if the man hadn't interrupted them. Odd, indeed, he said to
himself as he turned along the previous street and into an oncoming wave
of snow blown by the wind.

"Dad, I think you're making a big mistake. Nothing is going to get odd
with us. That bathroom thing was just you being a little emotional over
my being upset. It really is no big deal. Let's just forget about --"
he stopped, noticing their direction and the large white blur in front of
them. "DAD! We're on the wrong street! We're going to --"

The words were drowned out in the screaming of the tires as Douglas
applied the brakes and cut the wheel sharply toward the direction the car
began to spin in. The vehicle fishtailed on the slippery road and turned
completely around in the road before skidding toward the large white
blur, head first.  The blur, it turned out, was a snow mound that had
been piled up by the city crew and the car slid into the thing head on
and like a sledge hammer into a block of liquid cheese, it stuck there,
almost completely buried on all sides by the packed white stuff.

Hank recovered first and tried to force his door open. The snow resisted,
even after the broad-shouldered young man tried throwing his weight
against it. The door didn't budge, nor did that of his father. It was as
if the car had been shoved into one of those mailing canisters for
posters and none of the doors would open.  Douglas came to and assessed
the situation. Restarting the car, he attempted to back out of the snow
bank but the car stubbornly refused, the tires spinning on the slick
stuff.

"We could break out the back glass." Hank said matter-of-factly. "I
can see out of it; we could get out that way."

Douglas turned off the car and regarded his son.

"We're going to be found as soon as the street crews return to finish
their work." He said and reached for the dash box. "In the meantime, we
just wait here and don't panic." He finished, taking out a pillar
candle still in its wrapper and a lighter.

"What are you going to do with that?"

"We will be fine for a few hours with this burning." Douglas told him.
"We're going to get in the back seat and get the blanket from the trunk
through the small hatch. We're going to be just fine."

The two of them climbed over the seat, Douglas first. After a while, they
had gotten a dark blanket from the trunk through the drop-down in the
back seat. Douglas used an old bank envelope to put the candle on after
he lit it. Hank was silent as the candle flickered from the console. They
both were quiet, the inside of the vehicle still and silent as snow fell
around them.

"This is funny." Hank said finally, the calm too much for him. "This
happened on a television series...only it was rock that covered the car.
They played the stereo loud to get people to find them."

Douglas pulled the blanket over his upper chest but didn't say anything.

"The one guy was freakin' out about it. He was claustrophobic and
couldn't stand the whole situation." Hank went on.

"So the situation in the bathroom," Douglas started and Hank fell
silent beside him. "What were you so `freaked out' about?"

"Dad, it really was nothing..." Hank began but his voice trailed off.

Turning in the seat, careful to keep the blanket over them, Douglas faced
his son. His face was set in the dim light and he met his son's eyes.
"It didn't feel like nothing. It felt like something."

"It was awkward."

"What, specifically, was awkward?"

"Being in a small bathroom with you...you know, that close and all."

Douglas leaned a bit forward and Hank didn't move back. There was a
tightness to the situation just like it had been in the small restroom.
Douglas moved the slightest bit farther and Hank closed the gap by moving
forward and pressing his lips to his father's ^Ö a fiercely provocative
gesture that couldn't be undone. Through the kiss, Douglas stifled a
sound of shock. He felt the back of his son's hand on his head, holding
him to the kiss and the pressure was exquisite.

"That's what you wanted wasn't it?" Hank said, breathlessly. "In the
bathroom, that's what you wanted from me, wasn't it...to kiss me?"

Douglas caught his son behind the neck and kissed him again, passion
spilling out of him and onto his son's mouth through his own. Using the
weight of his body, Douglas pushed forward and Hank gave no resistance.
The two men lay on the seat of the car, the blanket shoved to the
floorboard. Hank's hands roamed his father's back through the thick
jacket the man wore and it was frustrating for the boy not to be able to
touch his father's flesh. He moaned his frustration but it was lost in
his father's open mouth and on his invading tongue. Fumbling beneath the
coat, the younger man found the fabric of his father's shirt and tugged,
intent on feeling flesh under his hands. At last, he felt the tight cords
of his father's back and began rubbing his hands along them.

Douglas pushed the dark hair back from his son's forehead, ran his hands
along the boy's face and down his neck, still feeding him with his
tongue and sucking on the boy's when it was offered. He felt the warmth
of his son's hands on his back and his pants tightened even more. There
was an urgency between them that wouldn't stop for tenderness but
Douglas had never wanted to hurt his son, but love him...love him like
this. This was the culmination of years worth of wanting.

"Son, we can stop." He said, panting the words as he broke the kiss.

"No, we can't." Hank insisted, still working his father's clothes and
fumbling for the buttons on the front of his shirt. "After all this time
of wanting you alone like this, we can't stop until we're both spent
and weak from cumming!"

"All this time?" Douglas asked, dumbfounded by the words. "What do you
mean all this time?"

"Let me blow you, dad!" Hank said, his voice desperate. "Let me put
your cock in my mouth ^Ö let me lick your balls, suck your asshole ^Ö
hell ^Ö fuck my asshole! Suck my cock, rim my ass ^Ö fuck me! Just do
SOMETHING!"

Douglas was still gaping at his son. He wondered where these words came
from and how long the boy had wanted to say them. There was a desperation
in Hank that he'd never seen as the boy's hands pawed at the front of
his shirt. Helping him, Douglas undid the first few buttons from the top
of his button-down and let Hank do the rest, cautioning him about not
tearing the fabric or ripping the buttons. It would be hard to explain
that to their rescuers.

When the man's chest was laid bare, Hank's hands ran through the dark
hair there and the dark, round nipples that instantly became hard with
his touch. Hank gasped as he touched his father, the culmination of years
coming to fruition. His father straddled him and Hank drank it in. His
hands traveled down the man's stomach and onto his belt buckle where he
pulled at it feverishly until he felt his father's hands on his, pulling
them away and holding them.

"No!" Hank shouted, trying to come up off the seat. "No! Not now ^Ö
not after so long waiting for this ^Ö don't do that ^Ö don't stop me,
now..."

Douglas moved down into the floorboard and Hank sat up. He regarded his
father with a surprised look and watched as his father removed his shirt
and unbuckled his belt. The fastener of his pants and the zipper were
next and awkwardly, Douglas stripped himself in the cramped space he was
afforded. When he was naked, he reached for the shirt his son wore and
pulled it up over the boy's head, tossing it onto the seat. Hank removed
his shoes and socks; Douglas pulled the boy's jeans away. When Hank was
nude, he was hard and his cock was throbbing in the center of his body.
Still in the floorboard, Douglas took hold of his son's cock and brought
the thing delicately to his lips. He kissed it first and looked up at
Hank, who watched like a mesmerized cobra.

Sliding the helmet of the boy's dick into his mouth was like indulging
in a decadent chocolate. Douglas tasted the same sweetness in the salty
offering that served as a precursor to what would follow such tender oral
love. The first inch Douglas took into his mouth, the sweeter the
sensation in his groin became. Another inch and Hank's gentle breathing
became labored. When Douglas continued down the boy's pole, Hank's body
began to actual quiver in excitement. Finally, Douglas' nose entered
dark curls and a masculine odor filled his nostrils. At this point, Hank
actually yelped his joy and his hands went to the seat on either side of
him, rigid and gripping the ungrippable leather.

"Dad..." He mouthed, but the sentiment died. Hank knew as his father's
mouth slid syrupy slow up his shaft that it was his father's face he saw
in his fantasies. It was the cool eyes, the steady jaw, the smiling lips
around his cockhead that filled his fantasies when his girlfriend
carelessly scraped her teeth along his shaft or when she bit a little too
hard on his head. In his fantasies, that didn't happen. The mouth on his
cock was warm, gentle and loving with no teeth, just warmth, softness and
slickness. Just like the one on him now, just like his father's tight,
warm, wet mouth that went down for the second time on his rod.
"Daddy..." Hank sighed, watching transfixed as his meat disappeared into
the man's mouth.

Douglas slid his hand into the warm "V" of his son's legs and lifted
the boy's sac, letting the balls inside roll around in his hand. He
hefted them up as he slid his mouth farther and farther down, letting the
boy's dick open his throat. Softly, he began to hum, the vibrations
going directly into the boy's rod and through his body. The velvety
jewels in his palm jumped as he did this and inside, Douglas smiled. This
was what he'd wanted all along. Having his son like this was Nirvana.

As his father's mouth ran along his cock, Hank felt his body tense and
release. With every downward movement, his body relaxed. With every
upward motion of his father's head, the suction that the marvelous mouth
caused Hank to tense in anticipation for the moment Douglas would cap the
head in his mouth and suck like it were a gumdrop. Hank oozed precum like
a small faucet at this, feeding his father a taste of his load to come.
Hank didn't close his eyes but watched every move his father made,
afraid this was a dream.

Douglas took a moment to take his son's cock from his mouth. Rubbing the
insides of the boy's thighs, he looked into Hank's dark eyes and the
two of them made a connection that was unlike any they'd had before.
Hank instinctively leaned back against the car seat, the leather
protesting. He slid each of his muscular legs up and hooked them on the
front seats, pushing himself to the edge of the seat. Douglas looked from
his son's face to the dark brown slit of the boy's asshole. The man
licked his fingers and traced the circle of seduction and Hank shivered.

"I'm clean, dad." Hank whispered, his voice small in the silence of
the snowbound car.

Douglas never took his eyes from his son's as he leaned forward and
kissed the dark ring of muscle. Hank shivered, wrinkled his forehead in a
pleasured expression. He relaxed his hole, reached around with his hands
to hold it open, his fingers grazing the sides of his sensitive ring.

"Please, dad..." He begged in the candle's light.

Douglas let the boy spread his hole for him. It was erotic to watch the
way the boy responded to his mouth. Reaching down between his own legs,
Douglas took hold of his cock and began to slide his hand along its
length. His own pre-cum made his hand glide along his rod and the
shudderings of pleasure he received came both from his manipulation of
himself and the shudderings of his son as he licked the boy's warm hole.
Pushing his head further, he speared the dark ring, causing Hank to moan
and grip his ass tighter in each hand, pulling himself open a bit more.
Taking advantage of that, Douglas pushed his mouth completely against the
boy's hole and shoved as much of his tongue as he could get into him.
Hank moaned, his body shivering.

Gripping the boy's thighs, Douglas began to shove his tongue in and out
of Hank's ass, causing his son to writhe and moan, shift and whimper
deliciously. Douglas enjoyed the thick muscle of the boy's body and
explored the thickness of his chest and the firmness of his nipples,
which he tweaked playfully and pulled gently. Hank's mind whirled with
what was happening to him but kept his own hands on his ass, his hole
pulled wide so his father's tongue could gain full access to him. He
inched down on the seat, hoping to find more length to the tongue inside
him.

The hands at his chest, their hard but gentle masculinity, the rough
stubble of the mouth on his asshole, the smell of maleness in the small
car, these were the things missing from Hank's sexual life. He didn't
want the pliant legs of his girlfriend, their softness and suppleness. He
wanted hard, muscled legs like the ones that were hooked over the front
seat. Yes, he wanted hard, muscled legs to wrap around his waist as he
drove his cock into their warm, moist asshole. He had always wanted that
but had been too afraid to admit this to both himself and his father.
Now, as his father's slick and talented tongue was turning his insides
to mush, he knew he'd been foolish.

"Dad," Hank moaned, half whispered. "Is your cock hard?"

"Yes, son," Douglas answered softly, withdrawing his mouth.

"Fuck me with it."

Douglas stopped and looked up at his son. The boy's face was clearly
visible in the soft candlelight of the car. Hank wore an expression of
hopeful yearning, his eyes wide and his eyebrows arched in a question.
The boy's mouth was set but open a bit. Maybe he was going to further
his request, maybe he was going to retract it, but Douglas didn't let
him do either before fastening his lips onto that mouth, moving his nude
body up the length of his son's, his hard cock trailing pre-cum along
the boy's form. Hank reached for that same leaking cock as it grazed his
own, getting his fingers wet and smearing the stuff on his moist hole.

"Are you sure, son?" Douglas asked his son, his hands cradling the
boy's neck. "We don't have to do it like this, here in the back seat
of the car."

"If we don't do it now, we may never get another chance. I've wanted
you to do this to me for...a long time." Hank responded, that same
desperate tone in his voice. "Please don't say no to me now that we've
got the opportunity, the time and the place. Please don't deny me this
after so long wanting it."

There was no further argument as to whether or not Hank was ready.
Douglas felt the boy's hands on his cock and felt Hank moving the head
to his moist hole. On either side of him, Hank's muscular legs tensed
and Douglas knew then what would happen next. He kissed his son again and
reached down between them. Taking hold of Hank's dick, he squeezed the
head and added the silvery precum that came from it to that same stuff on
Hank's asshole.

"This is going to hurt, son." Douglas cautioned, still cradling the
boy's head.

"It's going to hurt a lot more if we let this opportunity pass us by."

"I'm serious, son." Douglas said earnestly. "You've never been...no
one's ever...I mean, you've never had anyone do this to you?"

"No." Hank responded in the same raised-eyebrow way. "You're my
first, dad."

Douglas softened at this, his dick doing the same. He didn't want to
hurt his son. He hadn't thought their first time together would be in
the back of a car like this but here they were and he was about to
inflict on his son one of the worst pains possible. This wasn't what he
wanted. Suddenly, the lust he'd felt faded and he was left with only the
thought of hurting his only child.

"Please, Dad," Hank whispered, kissing his father. "You're not going
to hurt me. Not in a bad way. I know this is going to hurt but only at
first. Only for a little while, it is." The boy continued, using his
hand to massage his father's member back to life. "Please, Dad...do this
for me. Do it for us."

Looking down into Hank's eyes, Douglas allowed himself to be manipulated
back to his hardened state. This was what they both wanted, he knew. When
his cock was fully restored, he allowed Hank to put the head to his hole.
Douglas cradled his son's head to his chest. He couldn't bear to see
the pain in Hank's eyes when he breached his butthole. Hank breathed
deeply of his father's scent and pulled at his butt cheeks as the head
of his father's cock pressed against him, wanting entry.

"Do it, dad." He coaxed.

"Okay, son." Douglas said and inched forward with enough force to enter
his son.

"FUCK!" Hank swore as the pain tore through him. He clutched his
father's nude and sweat-slick body and held tightly to him.
"Fuck...fuck...that hurts." He said in a soft voice.

"I'll stop."

"No!" Hank said, pressing himself against his father. "No...just wait.
Let me get used to it, first. Don't stop though, not yet."

Douglas held his son, caressing his back and shoulders. He held the
boy's shivering body and kept his hips perfectly still. Hank's
breathing was steady but slower than normal. He was relaxing but it was a
delicate process. Douglas kept his hips still until Hank moved under him,
the signal to continue. Then, he eased into his son, half-inch by
half-inch until all five of his dick were inside the warm tunnel of
Hank's ass. Warmth spread through them both. Hank's hands held his
father's tight body while Douglas' hands held his son's. Together,
they both decided when it was right for Douglas to move again,
withdrawing himself slowly until the head was all that was held by the
gripping muscled ring.

"Slow, dad." Hank whispered against the fur of his father's chest.

"I will, son." Douglas reassured him, stroking his hair. "Tell me if
you want me to stop at any point."

"No, don't stop."

Slowly and with a steady pace, Douglas began to ease forward. Hank's
legs were beginning to cramp so he pulled them down from the seats but
found a way to slide his left leg around his father's waist and his
right leg up over his father's left shoulder. This was nicer and opened
him up a bit more. His father's dick was a nice size, not too large but
enough to fill him. Hank took in a deep breath and forced himself to
relax more, enjoying the smell and feel of his father's chest fur
against his face. Moving his head slightly, he found his father's round,
hard nipple and let the tender flesh slip into his mouth. He hadn't done
this with a guy before but he knew from his masturbatory sessions that he
liked his nipples played with. He could only hope that other guys did
too. When his father moaned from deep in his chest, Hank knew they did
and began to suck and chew slightly on it, suckling like he must have as
a child.

Slowly, Douglas eased back out of his son, still caressing his back.
Equally as slowly, he pushed forward, feeling his balls tighten beneath
them and tap his son's ass. Hank whimpered a bit as he was entered but
he gave no indication that he wanted his father to stop. As he felt the
tightness of his son's hole relax, Douglas increased his tempo, entering
a bit quicker, exiting the same way but still careful not to hurt the
boy. Still caressing Hank's back, Douglas was careful still not to keep
the boy's mouth from going to his other nipple to do the same as he had
the first one. It was intensely pleasurable and helped fuel the hard cock
that fucked his son.

"Oh son...that's beautiful. Your butt is fantastic, your mouth is
heavenly."

"Dad...I'm..." Hank called out softly. "My cock is so hard...I'm
close."

Douglas smiled at this. He pushed into his son and increased the tempo a
bit more. Hank urged him on, holding his legs tighter around his
father's waist. The dull pain that he had been feeling in his ass was
slowly giving way to a slow pleasure that was spreading through his hips,
his chest and into the heart in his chest that began beating even faster
as his dick throbbed harder between the two of them.

"Hank, my boy...my beautiful boy. How I love you." Douglas said,
stroking the boy's head. "I love you so very much, my love. This is a
beautiful expression of that love and one that I've been waiting so very
long to show you."

"Love me deeper, dad." Hank said, smearing his face with the sweat of
his father's furry chest. "Love me harder, dad...please?"

Douglas worked himself a little faster, still holding his son's head,
stroking it. Soft whispers of acceptance echoed in the car as he obliged
Hank's request. The way the ass tightened around his dick, he knew that
Hank could take it. The pain was subsiding. It must be for Hank to arch
up toward the thrusts the way he was doing. Pleasure was taking the place
of pain as Douglas began working his hips forward and back in a
still-faster pace. Hank moaned under him, never moving his face from his
father's chest. Douglas was rubbing Hank's shoulders and cooing his
pleasure at his son's body and the way it responded so beautifully to
the loving it was getting.

"Close, daddy...so close." Hank moaned.

"Me too, son." Douglas returned honestly. "Your beautiful butt brings
me closer to the edge with each stroke!

"Inside me, dad." Hank whispered. "Do it inside me...cum inside my
ass."

"Oh my boy."

Douglas hunched his hips forward a bit faster, feeling his son's dick
between the two of them. He felt the throbbing and the soft head jerking
and knew that he felt the same thing inside his son's asshole. There was
also a warm slickness on his stomach and he knew it was the same pre-cum
that he now oozed inside his son. He was so very close to doing more than
that. He was SO very close now...

"Inside...you're...sure?" He panted.

"Yes..." Hank returned, himself breathless as he licked and sucked at
the sweat that had beaded on his father's chest hair. "I'm sure...cum
inside me, dad. Love me deep in my hole, love me so much you explode
inside me."

Those words were all it took to bring the explosion to the surface!
Douglas felt the tip of his cock quiver for a moment and then expel the
most intense volley of cum he felt he'd ever expulsed in his life! His
hands held Hank's head but he kept moving his body until Hank whimpered
beneath him. "Yes, dad...oh, daddy...I'm cumming!"

            Between the two of them, Hank's cock followed suit with his
father's. It shot one, two, three shots of warm, sticky cum onto both
their stomachs. The stuff oozed all over them as he kept cumming, coating
them with boy-frosting. Douglas moaned as he stroked his son's head.
"Thank you, son...thank you." He said in soft whispers. "Thank you for
that sweet gift, son...thank you so very much."

            Hank still held onto his father's body but let his legs fall
away. He kissed and sucked, licked and smeared his face through the curls
of damp hair on his chest. There weren't words inside him to respond.
The chill in the air settled first in his shoulders and then on his back
where his father's hands kept moving along the sweat-soaked skin.
Shivering slightly, Hank pulled his face back finally and looked into his
father's eyes. Douglas was crying, tears of joy rolling down his face.
Hank smiled and tenderly wiped them away.

            "Thank you, dad." Hank whispered, leaned up and kissed his
father.

            Hank reached down and took the blanket from the floor as he
moved over onto the seat. Douglas covered his son with his body first and
the blanket second. Slipping his arm under Hank's head, he settled onto
the seat. "I'm sorry, son. I'm sorry that we waited as long as we have
but I wasn't sure you wanted it."

            "And are you sure now?" Hank asked with a smile.

            "I think we might want to do it again, just to make sure."

            "I believe I can handle that." Hank returned. "Are we
going to keep this up? I mean, now that we've started. I don't want to
go back to the way things were."

            "We'll find a way, son." Douglas said softly. "I don't
want this to end now that we've started, son. It's the end of our
broken hearts and the beginning of our time together."

            "I love you, dad." Hank told his father, reaching up to
embrace him.

            "And I love you, son." Douglas told his son with another
kiss to the boy's lips. "I always have and I always will."

            As the snow fell around them, Douglas made love to his son
again and again. After the third time, Hank asked to take the end result
of their lovemaking in his mouth. Douglas obliged, sharing the product
with a kiss. It was just the beginning of this type of sharing. When they
were rescued, Hank broke all ties with his girlfriend and Douglas filed
for a divorce from his loveless marriage. His wife took their home but
Douglas took their son and the two of them bought a small house in Maine
where they lived together and expressed their love daily, in many
beautiful ways, loving one another like no other could ever love either
of them.