Date: Wed, 22 Feb 2012 13:47:56 -0800 (PST)
From: Julian Otero <ba9ba9goodman@yahoo.com>
Subject: Best of the Bunch  part 2

Editor: part two of Best of the Bunch. In gay male>incest. Thanks.

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Best of the Bunch

Part Two
    Jorell's body framed in the doorway: young teenage boy beauty having
just fucked my son, radiating the afterglow that intercourse brings on. I
wasn't exaggerating his sexual appeal just because I had been so lacking
for sex myself. By anyone's measure he was a remarkable adolescent
specimen.
    Shoulders, arms, chest and abs all had nice muscle definition
appropriate for a healthy 14-year-old boy. The graceful power of his toned
long legs resulted from hours of skateboarding, basketball, and baseball. I
could see all this because he was almost naked. On his hips hung a
slackened yellow bikini brief under which a rather nice sized boy member
softly rested sideways, a wet stain causing its tip to show through the
thin fabric. When I lifted my eyes to his face I saw neither fear nor
shame, only a shy smile marked with cute dimples magnified by his natural
sexual appeal. There was no hesitation when I invited him to come sit by
me, close.
    "I saw you and Sasha in the bedroom."
    A slight flicker of a nod is all Jorell gave.
    "Was that the first time?" He murmured a negative.  "What's Sasha
doing?"
    With a little impish grin Jorell looked in the direction of the
bedroom. "He fell asleep.... always does."
    So, I thought, they have something on-going?
    "You musta given him a pretty good work out. Sit closer." As I said
this I took Jorell's hand and placed it on my crotch, over my bursting
boner. "Rub it, Jorell."
    "Mr. Miller...I...we...Sasha and me...we're not queer, I mean, you
know, gay..."
    "Who cares Jorell? I'm not gay either. I love fucking girls. But I'm
horny right now and you just fucked my son. Keep rubbing me." I spread my
legs wide and pressed his hand harder into my groin. With a smirk he turned
and adjusted himself the better to feel what I had under my jeans.
    Did what he found there surprise and please him: "you're big" he said
very softly. At that moment I knew he was going to blow me. Perhaps mine
was the first adult cock he touched. He was going to make me cum, on that I
was determined. Jorell felt me up for some minutes and then, just as I was
about to tell him to unzip me, he did so on his own. With a little help
from me we pushed my pants and underwear down to my ankles.
    He looked at my dick and then wrapped his hand around it. "I don't know
if I should be doin' this." Oh, don't be coy you sexy little colt! I
figured he wanted a permission from me, the grown up.
    "Do what you want, Jorell."
    The boy grasped my cock at the base while he lowed his head bringing
his brown cheek to rest softly on my white thigh. His eyes sparkled
with...what? lust, admiration? desire? Whatever it was it told me Jorell
wasn't the 100 percent straight dude he claimed to be. The kid was
enthralled by what he had in his hand, so close to his lips. My libido was
inflamed by the scene, by the closeness of this young boy, by his polished
brown skin next to my white skin with his large sensual lips ready to take
me in.
    Outside on the street the city raged in its usual way, a tangle of
traffic, of shouts and organized confusion and noise, moving, always
moving, rearranging everyone and everything minute by minute. Here inside,
among the familiar sights and smells of my home, a quiet and holy calm
enclosed us. Boy and man were about to make love. The words "suck me"
formed in my head without passing my lips. Jorell's mouth flashed white
teen then closed over the head of my rigid dick as if he heard my silent
command.
    Deep in my gut a long, pleasing sigh escaped. I placed my palm on the
back of his neck, opened my legs wider. This was what I wanted, but so much
more than I expected! And how easy it was to get! This little tough
streetwise dude started to suck me without any fuss or shyness, no
seduction needed. Was he doing this to placate me because I caught him with
my son? I didn't care. At this point I had been so deprived I would have
accepted help from a cold rubber duck.
     Jorell did not do things by half measures. Only 14, his mouth and
tongue were obscene and greedy. There was some history here, some
experience. I wondered how much practice he and my son had had together.
    By and by my thoughts melted and a haze of erotic pleasure filled the
space around us. Jorell was serious about sex. I ventured further. The
release I longed for was about to arrive.
    "Jorell!" I panted, "Jorell baby...honey...get my butt! Finger my ass
for me..."
    With a mouth full of my cock he groaned and immediately I felt his
probing finger. I hissed with lust when he hit the spot. He pressed
hard. He wanted to enter. Soon we were flying. He fucked my son; now he
wanted to fuck the son's father. It made me cum.
    I placed my hands on my thighs, pushed upward and squeezed spurts of
cum into his sweet mouth. There was a lot of it. I had been unrelieved for
so long so to have a warm wet mouth around me willing and waiting made my
release strong and long. My balls drained like never before.
    He let it all dribble out on to my stomach then licked it up followed
by a very self-satisfied smile. Thank you, thank you, you beautiful dark
boy!
    When I could finally talk I told him I'd been sucked by women and by
girls over the years but none seemed to enjoy it as much or know exactly
what to do as he knew. He beamed with pride. Now we understood each other
male-to-male. Despite the age difference we had bonded. I had a feeling
Jorell was gonna be around our apartment a lot.  Then he got dressed and
left.
    I went and lay on my bed and soon drifted into a wonderful post orgasm
nap.

    Around four Sasha woke me by climbing in next to me, fitting his body
into mine closely just as he used to when he was younger. We were both
naked. The lowering sun turned my tiny bedroom orange and I cradled him
under one arm. Our warm bodies touched in many places. Such intense love I
had for my son at that moment almost made me cry. Our tiny family, just the
two of us, alone in the big world: it sometimes terrified me. I turned and
clung to him, folding my arms around him, recognizing he was my anchor in
life, that without him to love and care for maybe I would let go, as his
mother had, drift from day to day in bored indifference. My kid was my
savior.
    "Dad? Are you ok?"
    "Uh."
    "You're crying."
    "No."
    "Your tears are on me."
    "Is it because of me?"
    "No. Yes. ... I was just thinking... thinking how fast you're growing
up. In a few years you'll want to split... to college--somewhere."

    That evening we ordered Chinese then settled on the narrow couch to
watch televison. When he was little my son often snuggled against me and
sometimes fell asleep in the middle of a show; the feel of him was so
comforting. When his small soft body clung like that I'd cover us in a
blanket and we'd both luxuriate in simple creaturely warmth.  I can still
recall the scent of his clean hair and the skin on his neck. He trusted me
to protect him and that made me proud and strong. Many times I carried him
to his bed and undressed him, kissed him, and drew the covers over him.
    My boy was no child now and though I wanted him close again I also
feared the desires in me, now awakened, would be too strong to resist. I
played with boys' dicks when I was his age; I remember the thrill of
rubbing off or sucking in basement stairways or dark rooftops, anyplace we
could find. It was mutual and it was fun and it continued for a few
years. Later, there was more. One handsome boy of 16 in particular, with
copper colored hair...

    Sasha interrupted the reminiscence
    "Dad..."
    "Huh?"
    "Jorell texted me. He said you saw us in the bedroom."
    "I did."
    Sasha looked down and away as if in the scattered old newspapers and
magazines on the floor he'd find courage for his next sentence.
    "He said you made him...made him...ah, a..."
    The words wouldn't pass his lips, so I finished for him: "Suck me off?"
My son was not normally shy about discussing sex and always used precise,
crude terms, but this time he failed.
    "I didn't make him...I said 'do what you want' and that's what he
did. Did you 'make him' fuck you? That's what I saw: his dick way up your
ass." He blushed up to his ears.
    "I did him first, before you came home! In his ass!" he boasted.
    "Wish I had seen that. I like to watch."
    "He said now you're gonna think we're queer."
    "I told him, and now I tell you, queer, gay, faggot, straight, bi, who
the fuck cares? He saw I was horny and he sucked me and I didn't force
him. By the way, he's pretty fuckin' good, too!"
    "Yeah, I think he really is gay."
    "Did you suck him, Sasha?" At this he turned away again so I knew the
answer.
    I looked at my son's crotch and under his snug skinny jeans his arousal
was plain.
    We had arrived at a crucial pass. If I followed my instinct and did
what I wanted to do our life together would change forever and I was not at
all sure how it would alter things.
    "Sasha, come close." He did and I held his face and kissed him full on
the lips. For the briefest moment I felt him pull back and then yield and
soften and accept me. He reached up around my shoulders and hugged me in
blatant surrender, so much so I was surprised. His body was giving
permission, allowing what I now knew I wanted to do.
    How soft and sweet were his lips, his eyes, his cheeks and chin. I
kissed all of it and he let me. The television droned on. I put my wet
tongue in his ears and made him shiver. My hands went down his body. His
nipples were erect and I paused there to tweak them. More shivers. He grew
warmer. Down father I found his navel and tickled the indentation though
the thin t-shirt material. I drew back to look. Have you ever seen, do you
remember, what a boy of 13 looks like when sexually aroused? The picture
will stay in my mind forever.
     I reached for him again. He said "all right" quietly, which I took to
mean go to the prize. In my head--only in my head--I heard his pubescent
voice say, "touch my cock, Daddy." When I did, his legs fell open very
wide. He was hard and hot under the thin material of his worn jeans. He
felt so good in my hand. I massaged him with my whole palm and he moaned,
voiced little half words and made puppy-like sounds.
    When I sensed he was ready I carried him to my bed. Like the old days
he let me undress him as he remained passive which I found very erotic. His
eyes had a distant look in them. I'd give a million to be in his head at
this moment.
    Now naked, he put his hand on the back of my knee to urge me closer. I
nodded and made a purr like sound when his hand moved up and into my
crotch.
    "Oh Sasha," I whispered, "you are my pretty, beautiful son." He
massaged me until I had to stop him and lower my jeans. My boy rose up and
propped himself on his elbow to get a good close look. His gleaming eyes
told me he liked what he saw. I was very hard and throbbing. Ever so
carefully I moved my hips closer to his face, just a little bit, but enough
to make my wish clear. His mouth took me in without any preliminary nibbles
or teasing.
    Oh, dear christ!...motherfucker!, my dick, the hard cock that made him
in his mother's pussy 13 years ago, was in his sucking mouth!
    Oh, oh, suck honey...suck your daddy...give him with your mouth the
pleasure he missed all these many months. Who cares if you're my son! Gay
or straight its doesn't fucking matter. Fucking is all that matters! Your
daddy's gonna suck you too, boy. He's gonna fuck your pretty ass right here
in this bed! You can be my girl, my boy...whatever you want to be! This
monologue, and more, was all in my head.
    I stopped him when I felt my sperm start to rise upward from the base.
    I shucked my clothes in a second and climbed next to him. Quickly and
greedily I arranged us 69 style.
    My first taste of my son's cock! How weird to write that sentence!
    I sucked him as best I could. All the way in my mouth to the back of my
throat and out again to the head. I remembered to keep my teeth out of the
way. The instinct came back to me.
    Thirteen year olds don't last very long. He popped his cum on my tongue
allowing me a taste of his sweet sperm for the first time, thick and rich
sperm that could someday soon make a beautiful child. When I was sure he
was completely downloaded I rolled off and hugged him, showered him with
tender words of love, kissed him more.
    Quietly we lay side by side, the tv far distant from the other room and
our breathing the only sound I could hear. After a while he felt for my
cock and asked, "Dad...do you want to...do you want to do me like you saw
Jorell...?" Of course I do but I wanted to hear the exact words.
    "Say it Sasha. Say it plain, sweet boy" I mumbled close into his ear.
    There was a longish pause and I feared I had screwed up. But then this:
"Daddy, fuck me. Fuck me. I want to be screwed in the ass by your pretty
hard cock. This is... (mumble something) wanted to try
it...(something). Maybe I am a faggot!"


end part two

There is more to come. Let me know what you think. Make suggestions. I
answer emails.

Julian
ba9ba9goodman@yahoo.com