Date: Fri, 23 Feb 2018 15:28:56 -0600
From: Rocky Hawkins <justwriting@soniq.org>
Subject: Dade The Dick Watcher

Title: Dade the Dick Watcher


Author's Note:
This story is told as a fantasy, and I won't tell you that there is any
truth to it. But, as narrator and protagonist, I am not really that
creative. So, you can decide if I made it up or not...


I love email and feedback, so let me know if you like this one!

DISCLAIMER:
The following content may contain detailed descriptions of sexual
interactions between a minor and adult. If the laws in your place of
residence or your religious beliefs make it illegal or wrong to read such,
do not continue. If this type of content offends you, do not continue.

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Contact me:
Feedback and such to justwriting@soniq.org.

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I started early. I was 6 years old when my mother was called by Miss
Dittbrenner, my first grade teacher.  From my room, I could hear her, in
hushed, but pressed, tones.

"Well, I'm sure I don't *know* where he got that from. Certainly you don't
think - Ma'am! I will thank you NOT to talk about my family that way. I
will get to the root of this!"

The phone slammed down, and I raced back to my bed, where I had made a fort
out of the pillows, beach towels, and Mr. WIlkins, my velvetine bunny. He
was my best friend. He was the one who told me that it was ok to share my
secret place. HE was the one who told me it was ok to watch my cousins play
with his own secret place, when he stayed over. Mr. WIlkins was a great
friend, but he sure did get me into trouble. And he sounded a lot like my
cousin.

"It's ok if you're a little perv," Cousin Mark would say. "We all got em,
just don't go doin' it to like, school kids - they don't like that faggy
stuff."

He was 14 years old, and stayed over a lot when my Auntie Sarah and Uncle
Joe would take their business trips.

He was here so often, that when my older brother went to live with my Dad,
my Mom just kept the bunk beds in my room connected. "He'll need a place to
sleep anyway," she would say.

The nights he slept over, he would jerk on his secret until his whole body
would get tight, and it would shoot goop. He would wipe it up with his sock
and then fall asleep. He caught me watching more than once. "Some day,
you'll know what this is all about. Just don't tell no one, ok, Dade?"

I would always nod and just watch. His secret, which he called his `dick',
was fascinating. I wanted to see everyone's dick. And that's why Mom got
the call.

"Dade," she called, walking into my room. I was under the bed, under the
fort, under the top bunk, in my room. "I know you can hear me, so I'm gonna
say this once."

She sighed. "Boys all have a secret zone, my dear," she stalled, "but
that's a secret to only a few people. You know, your Momma, and Doctors,
and such. You can't be showing, or asking to see, other boys. Am I clear?"

She tapped her foot.

"Yes," I croaked.

She spun on her heel. It was Saturday, her bridge night. I was keeping
her. "Ok, young man. Mark will be here in 10 minutes. Remember what I
said. Don't make your *Teacher* call me again."

Well, I'll tell you this much. No teacher ever called to tattle on me
again. But, well, I didn't stop. If anything, the thrill of seeing other
boy's dicks increased. But I became more careful.

Soon after that talk, I realized I had to be more subtle.

In third grade, I realized that the 6th grader floor had a bathroom with
urinals, and stalls that lined the walls around it. If I sat in the 4th
stall on the far wall, I could see every boy that walked up to the first
two urinals. It didn't take long before I was regularly spending recess and
lunch hours in that stall. I was able to see 5th graders, 6th graders, and
even once a teacher! They were all different. Some would unbutton and
unbuckle and unzip all the way; some, most, would unzip and yank out. Some
were longer than others. Some guys would pee and shake it off. The ones I
liked were the guys who would pull the skin back and forth afterward. When
I was little, I was taught to shake it a little, and put it away; these
boys were, well, lazy - or perhaps in a hurry. Regardless, it was amazing
to watch.

And like I said, when Mr. Wirth came in that day... I never knew my dick
could get so hard. In a lot of ways, he was like my dad. He was tall;
taller than most. His body looked like a 50's superhero; you know? Like,
very square shoulders, a locked jaw with an always 5 o'clock shadow jaw
line? Yeah, and he was strong; his arms always stayed tight at his
short-sleeved polo shirts, and he always wore these tan khakis that bulged
in all the right places. He was perfect. So when he walked in over the
lunch hour, and stepped up to the urinal, I almost dropped my sandwich.

My jaw dropped and my breathing stopped. Mr. Wirth stepped up to the
plate. IN a single swoop, he had his belt unbuckled, and his button popped,
like magic. His other hand slid down the zipper and a patch of boxers were
visible. With one hand, he combed through his hair; with the other, he
reached in, two fingers, into the slit int he boxers. I gasped in slightly
as he fished out his dick.

And there it was. The biggest dick I've ever seen. He was not like mine; it
had skin over the tip, and hair all around it. I blinked once, risking
missing something - but luckily, I chose the correct moment. His hand moved
from his hair, now tossed a bit, and rest back at his hip. His other hand,
how fully wrapped around what had to be 4" of dick, pulled back slightly.
The pink head pushed through, and the yellow stream started. He sighed,
loudly.

MY dreams had come true. My life was complete. The tallest, most strong man
I knew, was in front of me, only feet from my reach, with his dick out for
me to see. And then the door opened.

"Jason, we got like 5 minutes! Hurry up! Oh, hey Mr. Wirth!" It was some
kid, and his two friends. They had all come in. It broke my spell, and
apparently it upset Mr. Wirth. He zipped up quickly, not shaking or
stroking like the others. He rinsed his hands with equal speed, and was out
the door.

I watched the three boys, now lined up, each of them holding their dicks.
"That was so weird!" Jason said.

"I know! I've never seen a teacher in the boy's room before," one of them
replied. They continued to chat, not once looking at each other's junk.
Weren't they curious?

The bell rang, and I collected my stuff. I didn't finish my sandwich, and
walked back down to my floor, the third grade floor. But, I passed
Mr. Wirth's class on the way. His door was open, and he was arranging papers
at his desk. He looked at me funny when I waled by - but I'm sure that was
just because he din't expect to see a third grader on the sixth grade
floor.

We moved less than two months later, and I was enrolled in a new school.
That's when I found out about sleep overs.

"You're old enough to have TWO friends over. No more. I can't handle you
crazy boys in more than three...OK?" We had lived here for a year now, and
I had finally been allowed to have friends over. MY current best friend,
Eric, and his buddy Jordan, were going to come over Friday night, and we
had the WHOLE living room to ourselves.

I was just turning 11, and they were both ten. I had begun what my mother
calls, `your father's problem'. I knew what it meant. I was going through
puberty, and Dad had taken me to get ice cream and `talk'.

"Well, son, here's the thing. Can you and I just be guys here, for a sec?"
Of course, I nodded. He was gonna tell me the secrets to life!

"Yeah, so. Let's take that cone and walk." We walked past the benches of
the mall. We walked past the parking lot of the JC Penny. IN no time, the
ice cream was eaten, and we were on the far side of the parking structure.
Dad looked around, but there was nothing around us. The ground was worn,
and there was no grass. It looked like there was a party or something -
beer bottles and cigarette butts, but no people. No cars. No traffic.

"Ok," he said, flatly. "Guys have a dick, right? And your dick is gonna
start to talk to you."

I looked at him funny.

"Hear me out. It's not gonna use a voice. It's gonna be in your head. It's
gonna tell you that you want to play with it. That you want to put it...
places. You getting those thoughts yet?"

I blushed, and nodded.

"I thought so. So here's the deal. I'm gonna tell you a few things, and I'm
gonna show you something. Nothing we do back here is EVER to be repeated,
ok sport?"

I nodded. He stared at me. "Ok, Promise."

Dad looked around once more. "Pull it out," he said. I looked at him. He
grabbed his junk. "Pull out your dick."

I heard Mom in my head. But it was Dad, this was ok. I unbuttoned my new
blue jeans, and pulled down the light red Jockies that I had saved up
for. I wasn't a kid, no more tight whities!

Dad scanned me up and down, then grabbed my dick. "Yep, you're gonna be
like me," he said.

His touch got me hard in an instant, and I think, not sure, but I think, he
smirked.

"Ok, so. Guys do three things with that. They piss, they jerk it, and they
fuck. Two of those things are fine. The third, I don't want you doing until
you are at least.. 16. And that will be another talk. Until then, jerking
is all you get. Now, in a couple years, you're gonna get big.. like your
Dad. And, well, you have to be careful, because when you are young, and...
like me, people will want you JUST for that."

"Dad," I ventured. "I'm confused. I mean, I wanna be big and tall like
you."

He chuckled. "No, son. This isn't about height." He pulled at his jean
button, and unzipped, He was wearing a jock strap, something I had been
told about in school, but had yet to see.

In one swoop, his pants and jock were down to his knees. In front of me, my
father's dick flopped down. All of my memories of every boy's dick,
including my teachers, paled in comparison. I began to blush immediately,
and wanted to look away, but I just.. couldn't.

He knew it. He knew it was what I wanted to see. And he liked showing it
off. "The girls will fear it, your buddies will be jealous, and the gay
guys will want it. But don't let it rule you're life, son. Now, we're both
boned up here, so why don't we bust one off?"

My jaw dropped; I was embarrassed. "Daaaad... I can't... I mean..."

But he wasn't having' it. He wrapped his left hand around his dick, started
pulling it back and forth, then wrapped his other arm around my shoulder.
"Just let it go, buddy."

I felt the heat of his body against mine, and I realized - I still had my
pants at my knees. There was nothing to hold me back now. I watched his
muscles flex as he began to stroke his dick. I could see the veins on it;
when his hand pulled to the base, I could still see almost half of his rock
hard pole still jutting out. It was amazing. By instinct, my own hand
started to pull on my dick.

The sensations were amazing. My hand caressed my 4" shaft, and my breath
got shallow. Dad, his arm now holding me to his side, began jerking faster
and faster. I could smell the scent of his cologne. I could feel the
tension in his body. I couldn't take it - my little cock was overloaded.
"Daaaa..." I started to say, a whisper.

"Let it fly son!" He slowed his jerking, and watched me as my knees started
to buckle. My body shivered and my whole body convulsed. I watched the tip
of my dick drool out one, two, then three spirts of my own cum.

"Yeah, that's my boy, great shot," he cheered. His hand began to pump super
fast, and his dick started to point out. His knees bent a bit, and he
pumped faster. "Now... you're gonna see... a full... load...."

His whole body locked, and his hand gripped the base of his dick tight. A
low, guttural moan growled from my father's mouth. I looked up, then down.
His face was contorted. I watched as my father pointed his dick straight
out. For a moment, nothing. Then, like a rocket, a stream of white goop
shot out of his dick. It pulsed again and again, and again! I couldn't move
as his body locked me in place, but it didn't matter. I was hooked. My eyes
watched each shot. The first volley must have shot 3 feet; the next few
closer, then finally, a few drops on his shoe.

We stood there, silent for a minute. Two guys, father and son, both spent.
"That was great, son. You're a man now."

My visits with Dad slowed. He was getting re-married, and he had another
family living with him. It was ok, but I'll never forget that day.


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Like it? Email me.  justwriting@soniq.org