Date: Mon, 25 Nov 2013 00:24:34 +0000 From: Marcus DaCosta Subject: Dragonden-activity-centre: chapter 3 (gay/incest) This story is about the relationship between a man and his three sons. If this is not your thing, or is illegal to read where u are, you know where to go. Otherwise enjoy. I will appreciate comments, ideas, feedback and participation as the story progresses, please email me. Details at the bottom. All usual nifty pre-ambles and legal bits apply. ------------------------------------------------- CHARACTERS: GERAINT: 37 years old RHYS: 15 years old OWEN: 13 years old HUGH: 11 years old GAVIN: 23 year old assistant manager RECAP: Owen climbed back into bed and looked at his phone to check the time. It was nearly 2am. As he looked a text message came in. To his amazement it was from Rhys: 'Thanks bro, that was amazing', it read. Rhys had been awake all the time! Owen did not know what to think. He curled up and went to sleep. Rhys lay in bed, covered in cum. He made no attempt to clean himself up, prefering to drift of to sleep as he was. Up on the next floor, Geraint practiced over and over in his head the conversation that he was planning to have with his middle son tomorrow during their Liverpool excursion. Unaware that beneath him, Rhys and Owen were both separately hoping to take things to a whole new level. ------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 3: Geraint was up with the first blackbird as usual, and raring to go. There was a boyish excitement in his step today due to the prospect of owning his very own rollercoaster, and he was particularly pleased that Owen had volunteered to come along with him. Secretly, Owen was his favourite son, although he would never admit to such partiality, not even to himself. Of course he loved, and was devoted to his other boys, but Rhys had always been much more independent than his younger brothers and therefore spent less time with his dad, and Hugh reminded Geraint of his missing wife for some reason. But there was something about Owen, a spark, that made Geraint feel proud every day. Geraint showered and dressed in his 'smart' Levi's and buttoned up a pale blue Ben Sherman shirt. He sprayed himself in far too much Old Spice aftershave, went to the kitchen and made himself a few slices of toast and an instant coffee. He switched on the local radio, briefly, before switching it back off again preferring to sit in silence, sipping his coffee and trying to 'work out' how he was going to start the conversation with Owen about 'touching his brother'. After much deliberation, he settled on the idea of trying to make a joke of it so as not to cause too much embarrassment. At half past eight, and with about thirty minutes to go until he hoped to leave, Geraint tapped on Owen's door firmly to wake him up. There was no response. Geraint turned the doorknob, opened the door and walked into the room, he drew the curtains and opened the window slightly to air the room. Owen stirred, but did not wake up. Geraint walked over to the bed and sat down by Owen's waist, Owen was laid on his back and his light duvet was pulled down to his waist just below the waistband of his boxers shorts. His right arm was raised above his head, revealing a small but growing patch of underarm hair that Geraint noted was a development since the last time he had seen his son. Geraint gazed down at the handsome thirteen year old boy for a while, soaking in the detail of every freckle and every hair. He leaned over and inhaled the musky scent from his sons arms, before kissing him lightly on the forehead. Geraint momentarily questioned his motives in doing this, but eventually concluded that his close father-son bond with Owen did not require justification, and that as Owen grew and developed, so would their relationship. He was certain that he had no sexual feelings for men or boys, and most definitely not for his own boys, a notion that he repeated to himself as he lifted his hand from the bed and placed it gently on Owens shoulder, stroking his way down the boys torso, over his chest, his flat stomach and down below his belly button. His fingers lingered around the top of the waistband, until Owen breathed in deeply enough to allow him to slip his fingers under the waistband and slide down until they made contact with his patch of pubic hair. Owen stirred again and Geraint swiftly removed his hand. "Morning dad," he said, unaware of his fathers movements. "Is it time to go?" "Yes son", Geraint answered, "if you still want to come, if your not too tired". "I'll be ready in five minutes dad". Owen said, waking up. "Just gonna jump in the shower and chuck some clothes on". He sat up, and Geraint stood up to move out of the way. Owen followed, standing up, and stretched, arching his back and raising both hands above his head. As he did so, his 'morning wood' popped through the open fly of his loose boxers exposing his four and a half inch boner to his dad. "Looks like everyone's up!". Geraint joked, nodding at the exposed erection. "Oh, shit, sorry dad". Owen apologised, tucking himself away before dashing out of the room to go and take a shower. Once showered and dressed in a pair of black football shorts and a coincidentally matching black polyester vest top, Owen joined his father in the front seat of the car, and Geraint began the long journey to Liverpool, jumping straight in the conversational deep-end. "He's gone back to sleep again, then?". He joked, nodding in the direction of Owens lap, and referring to the fact that there was no sign of 'life' any longer. "Oh yeah, sorry you had to see that dad, but surely you remember waking up like that every morning when YOU were my age?" "It's not just at your age, Owen", his dad corrected him. "I still wake up most mornings like that". "Shit, really dad?". Owen asked in amazement. "And this is gonna sound wrong, but, um, what do you do about it now mums gone?" He asked innocently. "Same thing as you I imagine, son" Geraint jested. "I assume to had a wank in the shower this morning, son?" "Urgh, dad" Owen protested. "NO I DID NOT". "Oh, sorry son, I assumed you had because you were boned up when you went in, and, um, NOT, when you came out." "Well I didn't, dad". "Well sorry then son" Geraint patted his sons thigh. "You probably should have done tho son. It's going to be a long day". Owen thought for a moment about whether he really wanted to be having this conversation with his father, it was slightly embarrassing, but, his dad was being surprisingly cool about it, and not making him feel that awkward. "Its a long day for you too tho dad". He joked. "Which is why I was trying to bang one out here in the car, before you came in" Geraint laughed. "I was expecting you to take longer in the shower, son". Owen sniggered. "So, I interrupted you, and you didn't finish?" Geraint shrugged his shoulders. "Don't worry son, I'll finish when you fall asleep". Geraint played. "What?" Owen was stunned. "Wank and drive? Isn't that dangerous?" "No more dangerous than me driving while watching YOU wank off your big brother last night son". Geraint 'went for it', immediately feeling regret for coming out with it like that'. "I WAS NOT". Owen lied, going bright red with embarrassment at being sprung. "Of course not son". Geraint said sarcastically. "I'm not gay dad". Owen said in justification, sort of admitting to the act he had just been accused of. "Oh, I know son". Geraint said firmly. "I'm not accusing you of being gay, I can tell a poofter when I see one, and I'm certain than none of my boys are poofters, son". He smiled, "You were just curious, its perfectly natural, especially with that big fucking boner tenting Rhys' trousers and staring you in the face, I can hardly blame you for wanting to touch it, son". Geraint patted his son on the thigh twice more, and then left his hand there for a few seconds before returning to the steering wheel. Owen's dick started to swell up at the closeness of his fathers hand, and even after it was removed, the flow of blood continued until he was back to full strength and his four-and-a-half inches were lifting up the material of his silky football shorts. "Is that how you felt when my boner was staring you in the face, this morning dad?" Owen asked innocently. Geraint thought quickly... "Um", he deliberated before setting on... "You didn't give me time to think anything son, when I pointed it out, you tucked it away quickly, and ran off". "Well I didn't know you were gonna be cool about it dad". "Owen". His dad reassured him, "I could hardly be mad with you for a having a perfectly normal bodily reaction, could I?" "Well, that's a relief" Owen said, pointing to his obvious boner. Geraint looked down and chuckled. "Hello again, mate". He said, in a cartoon voice. "Dad!!!" Owen exasperated. "Only messing around, but, don't mind me, son, if you want to sort yourself out, go ahead". Geraint suggested, baffled at his own words. "Your serious dad?". Owen checked. "Coz I'm not gonna lie, I'm horny as fuck, sorry for swearing dad, all this talking about wanking." Without waiting for any further confirmation, Owen lifted his silky black vest top over his head and threw it behind him onto the back seat. He then reclined the seat back as far as it could go, removing his seat-belt. Slid his shorts off, and lay back ready to wank off with an audience of one, for the first time. Meanwhile back at the farmhouse, Rhys woke up with morning glory too. He threw his sheets off his naked body, grasped his tool with his fist, and began replaying the 'seeing to' that Owen hid given him nine short hours beforehand. Rhys loved the fact that Owen was so willing to wank him off, and he hoped to convince him to give him head very soon, and also to 'train' the youngest brother Hugh to offer the same services. As he lay there sliding his fist up and down his six-inch pole, he heard a faint knock at the door. 'Right, now Hugh is gonna see what I got' Rhys thought to himself. He put his earphones in so that he could pretend he hadn't heard the knocking, although no music was actually playing. He closed his eyes, opened his legs wide with his knees raised up and pumped ferociously at his dick, as the door was knocked a few more times. 'Hurry the fuck up, and come in' he thought to himself impatiently. Moments later he heard the creek of the door and four footsteps as the visitor approached stealthily. Being watched was really turning Rhys on as he imagined Hughs eyes glazed as they stared at his bigger brothers hard dick. There were no more footsteps, so he hadn't left, but he hadn't spoken yet either. What was he thinking? What was he doing? Where was he looking? These questions raced through Rhys' mind as he raised his ass off the bed into a semi-crab position, making the pleasure of his masturbating so much more intense. He began fucking his own fist, thrusting his pelvis up into the air and groaning loudly at the intensity of the bliss he was experiencing. He was about to cum. Rhys practised in his mind how he was going to cum all over his chest, then reach behind his pillow for his cum-rag, which was an old un-needed t-shirt, wipe himself clean, and then open his eyes and 'act' as though he was in 'total surprise' at seeing Hugh standing there, He was going to pretend to be embarrassed momentarily, and then jump off the bed and chase him waving the cum-rag at him. His plan-making only got that far because he could feel the pre-eruption tingle in his balls as his body prepared to orgasm. He arched his back higher and increased the speed at which he pumped his dick. He counted down in his head 'five, four, three, two, one-and-a-half' and finally 'one'. Cum projected out of his dick about two and a half feet up into the air before landing on his shoulder, followed by seven more shots, which splattered across his chest, and abs. As planned, he kept his eyes closed and reached behind for his rag, wiped himself down, and relaxed, slumping on his bed, preparing to open his eyes. Before he had a chance to 'countdown' again, a firm voice spoke. "Breakfast is ready". Rhys opened his eyes with a fright, shuffled back onto his pillows, and used his wet cum-rag, pointlessly, to cover his rapidly deflating dick. Gavin, the deputy manager, was standing no more than a metre away from his bed, holding a tray which contained a glass of orange juice, a cup of tea, and a bacon sandwich. "Fuck!" Rhys exclaimed. "Fuck". He shouted a little louder. "Why did you stand there watching me?". He finally asked. "Who wouldn't?" Gavin answered. He had a point. "Say no more kid, its our secret". And with that he passed Rhys the tray, and left. Moments later Owen came rushing in to the room. "What's with all the shouting?" Rhys explained how Gavin had just stood there for a few minutes watching him cover himself in boy-juice. As he recounted the story, he uncovered himself, shoving the rag down the back of his bed. He lay back and raised his hips as previously done, explaining the process in detail, and using flamboyant hand gestures to represent the cum flowing out of his dick. As the story was being told in explicit detail, Hugh stared longingly at the now flaccid dick that was waving about in front of his face. He imagined it hard and licked his lips unknowingly. Rhys closed his dramatic presentation by explaining "and as you can imagine, it was a bit embarrassing bro". He noticed a small tent in his brothers pyjama bottoms. "I wouldn't be embarrassed". Hugh lied. "And next time, you gotta let me watch, I've never seen someone cum in real life". Rhys stood up and even though he was naked, he pulled his brother in for a sideways hug. As he did so, he grabbed hold of his brothers hard 3 inch dick through his pyjama bottoms, and whispered. "Hugh, THAT is a muthafucking promise, bro". He let go, sat back down on the side of the bed, and took a bite out of his bacon sandwich. Back in the car, Owen's breathing was getting deep and heavy. He also had his eyes closed as, although enjoying being watched by his father, he did not want to see his face staring at him. His fingers gripped hard onto his shaft, the fingers of his other hand were caressing his completely smooth large-grape-sized balls. After a few minutes, he opened his legs wider so that he could reach under with his hand and slide his middle finger inside his hole. As he did this, with his legs so widely spread, his right knee rubbed against his fathers thigh. Geraint could not take the pressure anymore, he pulled over into a layby, and looked down at his young son, winding and grinding his beautiful dick into his clenched fist with one hand, as he fingered himself with the other. Geraint, undid his seat-belt, and reclined his own chair. He undid his belt and jeans, and pulled them down to his knees exposing his seven inch thick meat. He was so caught up in the moment that he did not even stop to think about the morality or the repercussions in engaging in such behaviour with his son. Lust-driven, he grasped his own dick and began jacking himself, as he watched his sons porn-show. "Shit" Owen muttered under his breath as he neared ablousion. "Shit" he whispered. "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum". Geraint stopped his own exercise to watch the three squirts of hot cum land on his sons tummy. He was transfixed. Owen opened his eyes and looked down at the juice on his belly. He looked over at his dad, who was proudly smiling at him. He then looked down at his dad's rock hardness. It was the first time that he had seen his dad with an erection, and it looked hot. Owen looked down at the cum on his stomach again, and decided to 'go for it'. He 'harvested' it all in his fingers and reached over to his dads big fat dick and wrapped his young cum-drenched fingers around it, and began massaging his cum into his dads dick. "No, son". Geraint pleaded, making no attempts to stop Owen. "Then get out and walk, dad". Owen mocked, using a sentence that his dad had often used in the past as various complaints. They both laughed and Geraint relaxed into his sons tender hands. "I fucking love you, son". Geraint stated as his son slid his wet inexperienced hands up and down on his now-throbbing shaft. "I'm gonna cum, son" he shouted. "I don't wanna get it on my shirt". "Take it off dad". Owen suggested. "There is no time, son, I'm cumming... NOW". Geraint grabbed his son by the back of the neck, and instinctively forced his head quickly down onto his throbbing member. Owen just as instinctively opened his mouth and slid the large cock between his lips just in the nick of time, as stream after stream of hot cum filled his mouth. Owen used his tongue to prize out the last few drops and then pulled the dick out, swallowing the mouthful of cum as he sat back up, free from his fathers accidental over-enthusiasm. "Sorry about that, son, I didn't know what to do". "You owe me one dad". Owen raised his eyebrows. "That, son, is a muthafucking promise". Geraint pulled his jeans up, started the car and pulled back out onto the highway. For the rest of the journey there, and the entire journey back, neither of them spoke of what had happened, but there seemed to be an unspoken agreement between them that it was mutually consented, and would continue at a later date. The meeting was a success. Geraint and Owen got to ride the roller-coaster, it was not exactly disney-land, or alton towers, but it was a fun enough ride. A price was agreed, paper work signed, and delivery was arranged for a few days time. Later that evening, back at the farmhouse, Geraint and Owen arrived home after the park closing time. All the staff, including Gavin had left. Rhys and Hugh, however were no-where to be seen. Owen and his dad checked every room in the house, as well as the out-buildings. Geraint phoned Gavin, but his phone was off, and both boys phones rang from inside their empty bedrooms. "They must be here somewhere" Geraint said, not remotely worried. Owen slouched on the living room couch and flicked through the TV stations as Geraint went to the kitchen to rustle up a quick meal. Meanwhile, hiding at the back of the ten-pin bowling lanes, in the bit where the pins are automatically re-stacked; Rhys and Hugh had stowed away secretly, intentionally finding a cubby-hole in which Rhys could keep his promise to his little brother..... ------------------------------------------------------ If you have enjoyed this chapter of the story, please email me at marcusdacosta@hotmail.co.uk quoting 'dragonden' and if there is enough response, (so that I know people are still reading) chapter four will follow shortly. Please donate to keep nifty alive! http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html