Date: Wed, 9 Jan 2013 15:26:10 -0500 From: Daniel Smith Subject: Going Crazy This story is a work of fiction. It contains sexually explicit material and is intended for adults only, where permitted. If you like what you read, feel free to drop me a line and tell me what you like about it. Going Crazy I can't remember exactly when I discovered it but it was very early, maybe when I was six or seven, but I was definitely too young to know I wasn't supposed to do it. I discovered it in bed, trying to sleep on my stomach, my hand wandering down there to touch the tiny soft penis in my crotch. Through experimentation I discovered that if I put the tips of my first and second fingers just below the head of my little prick and pressed in, then rubbed in a circular motion, I would generate a pleasurable sensation that continued to build as I kept it up. After a few minutes of this, the sensation would swell until it racked my entire little body, and a wave of intense excitement would rush over me. My whole body shook and shuddered with pleasure, although the entire process was completely dry. I had no idea what an "orgasm' was at that age, but I had discovered how to achieve one nevertheless. For the next several years I perfected my technique and mostly practiced my art in bed at night. But at that young age, I wasn't completely aware of the boundaries involved around this activity. Sometimes I would engage in it when others were present, although as time went on I did realize there were some restrictions. I particularly enjoyed lying on our couch in the den to watch TV, with my right arm tucked discreetly underneath my body and rubbing myself on the side where no one could see. But once, when I was about 8, I made the mistake of doing this while my older sister sat at the other end of the couch watching TV as well. The movement disturbed her, and she asked me to stop squirming around. I stopped momentarily, but resumed, causing her to complain to our mother that I was "going crazy" on the couch and bothering her. My mother undoubtedly had no idea exactly what I was doing, she just yelled at me to stop going crazy because it annoyed my sister. That was the time that not only was the catchphrase coined for my little secret, but also when I started to instinctively avoid "going crazy" around the women in our family. With my father, however, it was a different story. At about the age of ten I started to experience a slight discharge at the climax of rubbing myself, in addition to the intense feeling of pleasure. I wasn't completely aware of what semen or "cumming" was, but I had an inkling and knew it was connected with pleasuring my cock. I also had begun to notice that it would harden, not only while I was rubbing it but eventually even in anticipation of it. The discharge—just a tiny amount of mostly clear, slick liquid—didn't seem to heighten the pleasure at that time. In fact, it often annoyed me, because it became much harder to hide my activity when it ended up with a small wet spot appearing on my crotch. Even though I avoided "going crazy" around my mother and sister, there were a few occasions when I did it on the couch or on the floor in front of the TV as my father sat in his favorite armchair. I don't know if he was aware of what I was doing, much less whether he was observing me do it. I guess I felt that as a man he would understand better than a woman would, and if not endorse it at least not call me out on it. Looking back I know he must have known because my dry orgasms were becoming more intense and the movement I made was surely noticeable. But the first time I became aware of this was when I was eleven, and was on the couch in my pajamas watching TV with only my father in the room. After finishing with a shudder, I stood up a few minutes later and excused myself for bed. As I stood, my father glanced over at me, smiled, and said, "been goin' crazy over there, have ya?" I was deeply embarrassed as I realized that the tell-tale wet spot on my crotch was giving me away, even if he had managed not to notice the squirming. I was further ashamed that my mother obviously had discussed this activity with him since he had used her little nickname. But my father followed his comment with a quick wink, and told me to get to bed. His easygoing manner put me at greater ease, and I imagined from that point on that he not only understood what I was doing but even condoned it. That realization emboldened me. I mostly continued my activity in bed, and there were few times in which only my dad and I were alone in the den watching TV. But on one such evening, just a few weeks after he had noticed me, I was on the couch slowly gearing up my hidden right hand while dad watched TV. He stood up to go into the kitchen, and when he came back, he surprised me by coming back in and sitting on the end of the couch. I was a smallish boy, somewhat short for my age and on the slim side, with dark hair like my father but only on my head and nowhere else yet. He was also somewhat short but stocky, mostly muscular but also with a little thickness in the middle from comfortable living, and thick black hair that extended to his legs, chest and arms. As he sat down and placed his beer can on the coffee table he patted me on the back with his right hand, and looked in the direction of the television. His hand stayed on the small of my back—not an unusual position at all, but given what I had been doing before he sat down, somewhat strange and a little unnerving. My right hand was still planted firmly underneath me, and drawing it out might only call attention to where it was. At any rate, dad seemed unaware, and just silently watched TV. As I watched along with him, the next few minutes relaxed me, and I felt a familiar twitch above my two fingers as my little member began to grow stiff again after softening. Where my boldness came from I still don't know, but I began to rub in earnest, and soon I was "going crazy" as if I were alone in bed. But I wasn't, and with my father not only sitting at my feet but also with his hand still on my back, there was no way he could fail to notice the movement. Knowing that I was pleasuring myself in my father's presence, a prospect that only minutes before made me shrink with shame, suddenly became an overwhelmingly erotic situation. As I began to rub faster and press into my prick harder and harder, dad began rubbing his hand on my back in small circles. Each increase in my intensity was matched by his rubbing harder, until, as I bucked up and down on my hand, he pressed deeper into my back, practically massaging me. Out of the corner of my eye I could see his head turned towards me, watching me as I finished. The wave of intensity washed over my body like never before, followed by the short and small discharge. Dad continued to massage my back as I grew still and my breath slowed back down to normal. After a few minutes, he suddenly smacked by behind and announced, "off to bed!" I was worried about how noticeable my wet spot would be and rushed out without a word, but not so fast that I was reassured before leaving by a sparkle in his eyes and a grin that bordered on a smirk. I took my cues from Dad following that evening, and he gave no indication that anything strange or out of the ordinary had happened. As my twelfth birthday came and went, I kept going crazy in my bedroom any chance I could. Just at the edge of puberty, my hormones were starting to rage and although I didn't fully grasp the concept of being horny, I was. Another difference that I couldn't quite grasp was how my ministrations had changed since that time on the couch in front of dad. Now, as I lay in bed furiously rubbing, my thoughts kept returning to that evening and the excitement of performing in front of my father. I had no idea why this excited me so much, and knew even less about what kind of boy that made me, but whatever it was added a new intensity to my bedroom sessions. Because of that, I stopped doing it anywhere but my bedroom alone. I was afraid that I could no longer hide my excitement in any way, and even when only dad was in the den someone else was usually around in the house. Then one Friday evening, about 3 months after I turned twelve, my mother agreed to chaperone my sister and her friends at a school dance. Dad and I watched TV as usual, and an almost exact repeat occurred of the last time we had been alone. As he returned from the kitchen with a fresh beer, he once again sat on the couch at my feet, rubbing my back gently as he watched his program. Hesitant at first, my hand eventually found its way underneath me and I started to rub. Without warning, dad suddenly laid down next to me. His large frame pushed me to the edge of the couch and I nearly fell off. "Dad!" I protested, as my left arm and shoulder slid off the edge. "Sorry," he laughed, and pulled me back towards him. There was just enough room for us both to lay on our sides, me in front, dad behind me. We watched television in silence. Dad reached over me to the coffee table to grab his beer and take a chug. I could feel the weight of his body against mine, and even more exciting, the heat and hardness just below his waist. As he settled back, he rested his hand gently on my hip. A few more minutes passed as we drew closer together, with no room at all between my back and his front. His hand then slowly reached around to my midsection and eventually came to rest on the already hard little prick tenting my pajama bottoms. Without taking them off, he placed two fingers just below the head on the front of my penis and rested his thumb on the back, then began to press in and rub. The feeling was so intensely pleasurable I cried out a little. "You OK?" Dad asked, stopping briefly. "Yeah,"I reassured him. "Does that feel good," he asked. "Yeah, it feels really good,"I replied. And it did. Physically, the sensation of having someone else rub me was unbelievable. Mentally, the knowledge that the hand on my private parts was my own father's was overwhelming. I had never felt more excited, more horny, more dirty, more wrong and more right all at the same time. As he continued the excitement made me dizzy, and my head started to spin. It took me a second to realize dad had stopped before I also heard him say, "let's do this right." I had no idea what he meant, but he stood up from the couch and drained the rest of his beer. As I watched in fascination, he quickly pulled off the white tee shirt he was wearing. His chest was covered with thick black hair, as was his thick middle. Then, he pulled off his flannel bottoms and boxer shorts in one quick move, and straightened up. I stared, transfixed, first at his muscular hairy thighs, and then upwards. His cock was somewhat short but thick, with a head larger than the shaft that made it look like a mushroom. He was hard, so much so that the head was purple and seemed to be straining for something. Then he disappeared as he knelt back down onto the couch above me, turning me gently onto my stomach. His hands pushed my top up to my shoulders, and then tugged the bottoms and my tiny briefs down to my ankles. I kicked them off, and dad settled in with one knee on each side of my hips. His hand dug underneath my right side and searched. I lifted myself up a bit to allow him room, then slowly lowered my hard little dick down into his waiting hand. He squeezed, hard, my dick and smooth nutsack all together, and I yelped. Then he adjusted his fingers into position, and started to rub. The heat of his hand on my dick, bare skin to bare skin, drove me crazy, and I moaned and pitched wildly as he rubbed. Then I felt the heat of his other hand, rubbing against my bare ass, followed by a tickling sensation as something traced the crack, up and down, leaving a cold, wet and sticky feeling. I turned my head and strained to look at my dad, crouched over me like a hairy predatory animal, staring down at his hard cock rubbing up and down against my asscrack. "Oh shit, that looks so fucking hot," he practically moaned. I didn't think it was possible, but the dirty words only made me more excited. I felt the full force of his body slam down onto mine, nearly suffocating me. Before I could protest he whispered breathlessly, "fuck, I just have to, daddy's gotta go crazy baby, please." I knew I had to let him do whatever he needed to do, to let him go crazy just like he had let me, so I answered, "OK daddy." He groaned, and shifted himself upwards on top of me. His left pec rested against my face, the nipple sticking hard and pink through his fur as his belly settled into the small of my back. I felt like I would pass out from the weight on top of me but dad's right hand stayed firmly planted against my prick, giving me pleasure to withstand the rest. Just as I thought he had finally settled, I felt the uncomfortable sensation of something poking against my backside, roughly pushing against the skin. Then the wet and sticky sensation happened again, and I cried out. A searing pain, more intense than I had ever known, followed. Dad quickly said, "just stay still baby, please." I stopped squirming, and the pain slowly began to subside. Staying still, I was able to realize that my dad's cock head was planted firmly in my tight asshole. My breathing was heavy and rapid. I felt dad remove his hand from underneath me and use it instead to prop himself up above me. I turned my head to look and saw him switch hands, propping himself up now with his left and placing his right on the base of his cock. I felt at first as if I were watching the whole thing on television, happening to someone else. But as he began to stroke his shaft, still outside my ass, the engorged head buried inside started to move and swell even larger. Reminded of the pain, I started to whimper. Dad looked up at me and whispered, "just stay still baby, don't move." I turned and buried my head into the couch cushion, still groaning. "Just the head, baby, just the head, I promise," he said. The couch vibrated as dad continued to pump on his cock shaft with his right hand. He was as good as his word, and didn't sink into me any further. His movements became quicker and breath grew heavier as he essentially jacked off inside of me. "Oh fuck, oh fuck, yeah," he moaned and groaned. I stayed as still as possible, clenching my teeth and eyes closed shut. Just when I thought I couldn't stand the pain anymore, dad yelled out at the top of his lungs. My eyes opened wide as I felt the first wave shoot up my hole. Dad continued to stroke furiously, and it felt like my insides were on fire. Wave after wave blasted into my anal canal, filling my bowels with his hot cum. It seemed like an eternity before the hot gushing stopped, and dad took his hand off his dick. We remained motionless for almost a minute, breathing heavily. "Just stay still, stay still," he said, and I obeyed. Carefully, he moved his right hand back underneath me. Instinctively, I lifted up to give room, which jostled the cockhead inside me and made me cry out in pain again. "Maybe we should stop," he offered. "No daddy, rub me some more, please," I pleaded. I was on fire inside and out, and I desperately needed to go crazy. No matter what the consequences were, I wanted dad's hand on my dick. "OK baby," he said, his fingers starting to rub my now swollen little prick. "I'll be careful." But we had gone too far, and we couldn't go back. The motion underneath me caused my ass to buck upwards. With dad's cockhead still firmly planted inside my ass, and now my hole lubed with his cum, the rest of his still-hard cock slowly but surely began to sink into me. As each successive inch invaded my swollen fuckhole I screamed, only to follow with moaning as dad's fingers took a firmer grip on my dick underneath. A moment later I felt his hips and thighs come to rest against my backside, and I knew he had entered me completely. No amount of pain or discomfort, as much as it was, could take away the sensation of a man's cock—my father's, no less—shoved up my ass. He removed his hand from underneath me and started to move his hips, slowly but surely. My mouth opened soundlessly and my eyes rolled up into my head as dad began to fuck his cum deep inside of me. After a few moments my hips bucked upward to meet daddy's bucking downward, the weight pressing down harder and harder against my dick underneath. I heard a low guttural moan escape from my mouth, and it seemed like a flash of lightening hit my eyes. My whole body shuddered, and I stopped moving. Dad's cock, already beginning to grow softer, plopped out of my asshole, and he stood up. As I lifted up a little I felt the sticky trail of his cum flowing down my asscrack and over my smooth balls, and I looked down. I watched it drip and fall onto the cushion underneath, mingling with something else. A small but unmistakable pool of semen, my own first cum.