Date: Mon, 24 Jul 2017 20:38:30 +0000 From: Tiao Wu Subject: Here Cums the Neighborhood: Part 7 This writing contains sexually explicit material, unsuited for readers under the age of 18. If you are underage, live in an area that disallows the reading of this type of material, or are offended by homosexual content, please do not read further. This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, settings, and ideas featured in this series are based on fantasy. Any character that resembles someone in your reality is purely coincidental. If you enjoy these stories, please donate to Nifty so that we can continue reading. Feel free to email hjk7359@hotmail.com to give feedback or constructive criticism. Please enjoy. *************************************************************************** Chapter 7 - Father to the Thought "What exactly happened in that office?" Dad asked me again. He slowed the truck to a stop at a stop light. "What do you mean, Dad?" I asked, my hands still down my pants, fidgeting with my rubbery erection and my sticky hole. We were driving home from the doctor's office--Dr. Amar's office. I'd just gotten a physical so that I could finally join the swim team in town. The physical was--well--interesting to say the least. I'd been to the doctor before, and yeah, while they did the heartbeat, ears, eyes, height and weight stuff, I definitely don't remember the doctor ever needing to check to see if my balls were attached correctly, or...all the other stuff Dr. Amar and I did together. My hole continued buzzing as we continued driving. "I mean," he gripped the steering wheel, whitening his knuckles, "why did you LOOK the way that you did?" he made sure to articulate each word carefully. Each word expressing how he felt seeing me walk out of the doctor's office, in a way that could only have suggested that I did more than just sit on a table and answer some questions about my health. I took my hand out of my shorts, and rested it on my lap. "Well, the guys outside were doing yard work, so Dr. Amar had to close the window. And the A/C's out, so...it was really hot in there. REALLY hot, Dad." I tapped my fingers on my knee. "It didn't look like that's all that happened," he said, putting the truck back in gear. My dad's face shown with perspiration. He squinted through the sunlight, crows feet crinkling at the corners of his eyes. I didn't know how to describe what happened. "Dad?" I asked, straightening my posture a bit. "What is a physical supposed to be?" Dad sighed, scratching his head. "He checks you out to make sure you're growing...the right way." "What kind of things?" I asked. "I guess, he checks your bones, muscles...and," he paused, "he checks your balls down there." "Is that it?" I could feel that buzzing inside my hole again. I squirmed in my seat as the vibrations beneath the truck rattled through my lower body, making my cock swell up once again. "Usually, yeah." "Oh," I said, dick stirring in my shorts. No prostate exam? My dad continued driving. There was an air about him that I was familiar with. I could tell that he was disappointed. That he knew I wasn't telling him everything. That he shared things with me that he'd never told anyone. About Gramps. And what about me? Tears welled up in my eyes. I knew I had to tell my dad the truth. "Dad?" I said, gripping my dick. "Dr. Amar did this other thing," I explained. Dad pulled into our neighborhood. "What thing?" he asked, voice deep, concerned. "This thing called a...prostate exam?" I said carefully. "Huh." He pulled into our driveway. Branches and leaves cut the sunlight away from our faces. "What was that like?" he asked, resting his arm on the steering wheel. "It was...weird," I explained, my dick growing in my hand at the thought of it, "but Dr. Amar said that I'm really healthy, and that I'll probably do really well on the team!" I said, hopefully. My dad smirked, "That's great, son." I could tell he wasn't fully satisfied with my answer. He looked at me, eyes piercing my own. I was practically drooling, staring at him, dick in hand, my hole begging to be touched again. With a gruff and hungry breath, he leaned closer to me and kissed me on the lips. I allowed his tongue to push into my mouth, his beard sanding my chin, his nose pressing into my cheek, jaw scooping me up, like a pelican. Just having my dad kissing me like this could send me into orgasm. I continued to clutch my dick, as if I was holding in my cum, my toes curled. Finally, Dad pulled away from my face with a couple of soft smacks of his lips. I sat looking at him somewhat dazed. "Your breath," he said. "There's cum on yer breath." I snapped out of my daze, eyes widened. I was caught for sure. Just the idea of feeling "caught" confused and puzzled me. Something was definitely off. "Let's go inside," he said, opening the door, and stepping out, leaving me in the truck alone. I felt scared. I watched my dad disappear into the house. I could still sense the slight taste of Dr. Amar's cum on my tongue. Was Dad mad that I sucked someone's cock other than his? Was he upset that I wasn't telling him about these experiences honestly? I thought about just running away. Just taking the clothes on my back and escaping before my dad could get mad at me. But that was dumb. Where would I even go? I knew nobody. Only my dad. I decided to finally get out of the truck and head inside. Clouds were starting to thicken over head, blocking out some of the sun. I couldn't help but feel like a shadow was starting to loom over me as well. I opened the front door, kicking my shoes off by the front step. "Dad?" I called. I walked with bare feet through the kitchen and dining room to the living room where Dad was sitting in his armchair. "Dad?" I said more quietly. "Siddown, Seb," he said softly. I shuffled over to the couch and sat with my legs up close to my chest. The A/C in our house was working overtime to keep the place cool, and I could feel the sweat starting to crystallize on my skin. "I want you..." that word "you" hang with that twang of a southern gentleman that my dad always kept close to him, "I want you to tell me EXACTLY what happened in that office." I held my legs closer to my chest. "I'm not angry at you, Seb," he coaxed. "I'm not even upset." He looked down at his hands, sturdy, weathered. "I'm just...scared." Scared? I thought. What is he afraid of? Nothing scary happened to me at all. It was strange, and different, and took me to a place I'd never been. "Not scared," he corrected. "I'm worried that Dr. Amar did something to you that I should know about." I thought for a while. I could only explain it in a way that made sense to me. So I figured I'd try. "Well," I started. I told him how hot the room was. And how Dr. Amar was wearing a ton of clothes, so he just started taking them off because it was really hot. I didn't blame him. Then I explained how when I was nervous to take my clothes off--which Dad reassured me that all the kids would have to take their clothes off for a physical--he made a deal that he would take something off, too, in order to make me feel more comfortable. Dad took a deep breath, shifting in his chair. He tightened his jaw as he listened to the rest. I knew that Dad needed to hear everything. I told him about how Dr. Amar started the prostate exam, and how he was in his underwear, and how strange but at the same time amazing it felt. How Dr. Amar started with one finger, but then put in a second one. How much precum I leaked on to my stomach and chest. How Dr. Amar got hard while he was working on me, and how I managed to get his cock in my mouth. "Wait," he interrupted. My dick was fully hard at this point retelling this story. "You...wanted it to happen?" he asked slowly. "Y-yeah," I admitted, hoping he wouldn't get too upset with me. He scratched his beard, thoughtfully. "Then what?" he directed. "Th-then," I continued, pushing on my dick, "he made me cum." "During," he added, "the...prostate--" "Yeah, Dad. And he came in my mouth. I swallowed his cum." I felt like I'd just admitted to the question of who took the last cookie, or who broke the lamp. "Well," Dad said shifting in the chair after some silence. He brushed his hands on his jeans. I could see a fat bulge in his pants. A bulge that I wanted to unleash the beast that was hidden inside as I continued to sit here across from my dad. "Did you...like it?" he asked cautiously. "Yeah!" I shouted a little too enthusiastically, catching him off guard. "I mean, yeah, Dad," I said. Dad sat thinking to himself for a bit more. "I-I...I mean," I continued, "I'm feeling...horny all of the time," I said, somewhat annoyed, but still honest. "I know you said I have to learn to control it, but..." I looked at my hands. My stomach fluttered with this feeling of lust inside of me. "I can't," I said defeated. "You. Can." Dad was stern, looking at me with laser focus. I pursed my lips together. Dad sighed. "Look, Seb," he began, leaning forward from his chair. "I love you. And I care about you." My chest warmed with this incredible feeling hearing him say that. "You are growing up. Soon you will become a man, and you'll have much more responsibilities than you do now." He looked down, showing the thinning hair on top of his tanned head. "You're just having to take on a responsibility a little earlier than most kids." "Whadda you mean, Dad? What responsibility?" "I feel..." he clenched his fists, resting his forehead against his knuckles, "I feel like this is all my fault." "What? No, Dad! What are you talking about?" "You're too young! You're too young to be doing stuff like this!" he shouted. "Stuff like what?" I shouted back. "H-ha..." he stuttered, "having sex!" his words whipped through the air. I sat wide-eyed and confused. Sex? I haven't had sex yet. "But," I started, "I haven't had sex with anyone." Dad smiled, sympathetically. "Son," he started, "you have." My mind searched for anyone I'd had sex with, and based on what I knew sex was, I hadn't. Dad stood up and walked over to me, sitting down, scooping me in his arms. "You've had sex with me," he said, seriousness in his voice. My brow twisted in confusion. "And it sounds like you and Dr. Amar had sex." I guess it dawned on me then: sex didn't have to be just between a man and a woman like I'd heard. "When y'get that feeling," Dad continued, clutching his dick, adjusting himself. "That feeling when you cum. When you do that with someone else, when you both have that feeling," Dad kept searching for the right words. Brow furrowed. "When y'both get that big feeling, you've had a sexual experience." The farmer. Coach Scott. Dr. Amar. My father. I've had sex with all of them? "I guess I'm confused, Dad." I started, sliding my hands down my pants, feeling my warm erection. "I thought that sex was when a man puts his penis into a woman's vagina." Dad nodded, "Yer right," he said. "There's many different 'types' of sex. There's different ways to do it," he said. I was getting overwhelmed. I sighed, frustrated. "Don't worry, son," he said, placing his hand at the back of my neck. "You have plenty of time to learn about the different types n'all that." I nodded weakly, but I was determined to learn. "Just know," he started, "people say that they're a virgin until they've had sexual intercourse: the...penis into the vagina thing." "So I'm a virgin?" I asked. "Yes, son," he answered. "Ha," he laughed in a sort of bewilderment. "At least from you've told me that is." "Well," I started, feeling brave. "There was another person, I think...I had sex with Coach Scott, too." "HA!" Dad laughed to the ceiling. "Are you serious?!" I smiled, relieved that he wasn't upset. "Yeah, in the showers at the pool." I explained what happened then. How he made me cum by licking and sticking his tongue down my butt. "I'm pretty sure that's...sex, right?" "Damn, son!" he ruffled my hair, laughing almost hysterically. "Yer getting way more action than I ever did at yer age." "R-really?" I asked. "Well, yeah," he went on, "I just jacked off a ton," he adjusted himself on the couch, jutting his hips forward a bit. I could see the outline of Dad's cock in his pants. Dad laughed, "Boy, I'm jealous 'a you." "Jealous?" I asked, "W-why?" "Cuz here ya are, blowin' your load fifty times a day," he said, grabbing my wrist out of my pants, "Yer lucky," he said, with a twinge of regret. Dad stared into my eyes, hand still on my wrist. Then he slid his hand down mine, finding my dick, and taking it in his fingers. I rolled my eyes, sighing through my teeth. Dad used his free arm, to twist me around so I was laying on the couch with my legs apart. Dad swooped between my legs, still pulling on my crotch, and locked his lips with mine. His tongue and mine wrestled and explored each others mouths, coming up for air only sparingly. Dad slipped his hand behind my head, tangling his finger in my hair. Dad slipped his hands out of the waist of my shorts, and then slid it up my leg. The roughness of his fingers jolted through my bones. I arched my back so my erection could be closer to his body. Dad dug his way through my underwear, grazing the skin of my dick, causing me to whimper into his lips. Dad grumbled as he ground his jaw into my face, almost hungrily. His left hand lowered from my hair and down to my lower back, pulling me closer to him. Dad started twisting my shirt in his hands, kissing my neck, my hands, unsure of where to start, wrapped around his neck and back, like I was some kind of tree-dwelling creature on a branch. I pressed my waist against his. Dad's incredible knob felt like steel against me. "Haa-ah," I moaned. Dad removed his hand from my crotch, and the second it left, I instantly wanted it back. Dad circled his hips against mine, sliding his hand up my shirt, playing my ribs, my nipples, my pelvis, like an instrument. I reached for my dad's waist, looking for the buckle of his belt. Once my fingers ran over the warm metal, I hastily fumbled with the latch and leather, hoping to set my dad's cock free. Dad moved his lips down my neck to my chest, tongue running over my dime-sized nipples, nibbling on the tips. "Unngh," I cried, gripping onto his belt even tighter. Finally, I felt the flap of his belt come loose, and I reached for his fly with my nimble fingers. "Mmmm," my dad growled as I started fishing out his cock from his pants. As I flung it from his underwear, and slapped my stomach with a thud. I wrapped my hands around it greedily, squeezing and stroking it in my small hands. Dad thrust his hips, his cock shooting in and out of my hand. Dad's precum started forming a fragile web in my finger tips. Dad's lips crawled up my neck once more and found my own lips. Dad continued to hump and thrust his cock against me, pressing me deep into the couch, his weight, while not suffocating, left me unable to do much else then allow him to paint his cock against my body. RRRRRRING RRRRRRRING! Our telephone shattered my focus like glass. I moved my head to face the phone and Dad continued grinding his meat against my waist, his warm breath stinging my eyes as he kissed my ears. "U-uhh, D-dad?" I tried getting his attention. His dick was all I wanted. I wanted to taste it, hold it in my hands, swallow it. RRRRRRING RRRRRRRING! I didn't want him to stop, but at the same time... "The phone...Dad," I muttered. My hands slid across his neck, still slick from the summer heat. My thighs loosened and tightened around my Dad's waist. My cock dying to breathe. RRRRRRING RRRRRRRING! "Gaah, fuck!" Dad barked, and pushed himself off of me, his cock swinging from his opened jeans. I flattened myself on the couch, catching my breath, wiping my lips. Dad went over to the phone and answered it. "Yello'?" Dad said, somewhat breathy. "Ahh, hi, honey," he sighed into the receiver. My stomach twisted. Not out of nervousness, but out of worry, but out of disappointment. That my mother had stopped us with her probably pointless phone call. "Yeah, we're doin' good," he continued. I listened to my dad's voice go on, talking to her. All she was probably doing was asking if everything was the way she wanted it, and if things would be ready by the time she and my sister Lisa got there. That she could begin living the second she arrived. "Yep," I heard Dad keep saying. "Yeah, 'air conditioner's fine," he continued. I looked up and over the couch, watching my dad talk to her, facing away from me. His jeans were slightly sagging, loose. I could see the tops of his ass, peeking over his waistline, a bush of hair resting above where they came together. "Mm-hmmm." Dad shifted to the side, resting his hip on the counter, and at the same time, revealing the profile of his erection to me. My eyes widened, like a puppy seeing a piece of dangling scrap hang from the dinner table. I licked my lips, and straightened myself to see it better. "Yep," he continued. My mother had a tendency to draw out conversations. Adding words that didn't need adding. Asking for confirmation on things that didn't need it. A control freak. It's a quality that served her well in the work that she does with her non-profit, M.A.T.H., Mothers for the Advancement of Teenage Health. I've never seen anything that she does for the organization, but I know that she's constantly working. "Yyyyep," he said, tuning out the conversation. I focused on my dad's dick hanging from his waist. The tuft of pubic hair that shrouded the base of it. I propped my arms onto the arm of the couch, laying on my stomach. I twisted my hips into the cushion, feeling my prick press against he fabric of my short. Each gyration sending electricity between my ears, behind my eyes. I scowled at the heavy dick only five meters in front of me. "Uh-huh," he said, bumping the counter with his hip, his dick swinging from side to side. I couldn't take it anymore. I knew it wasn't polite to interrupt people while they were on the phone. I crawled over the couch, my dick a tent in my shorts. I walked over to Dad, still on the phone, cord draped over his shoulder. I stood in front of him. He glanced down at me. I could hear the sound of my mother buzzing over the phone. Sounding like she was just rattling off the details of her trip with Lisa. Standing in front of him, his cock reached the middle of my chest. I stepped close to him, his cock pressing against my sternum. I took his dick in my hand, feeling the heaviness of it in my palm. It was warm, and sticky, much like I'd grown my dad's dick to know to be. I squeezed it, watching my dad's balls jolt from my touch. "Uh-ahh," Dad sighed into the receiver. I moved my hand around my dad's junk, gliding my fingers across his skin, playing with the spongy head, seeing the bit of precum he'd made earlier. I pressed my finger on the slit of his penis, sliding the slick fluid on my fingertip. "Mmmmm," he responded. I licked my finger, getting a small taste of my dad's sweat and precum. It was like tasting the icing of a cake. You always want more. You always want more. I leaned over and took Dad's cock in my mouth. "Ahhhh," he groaned. I took it in my face as though a meal given to me after not eating all day. I hungered for it, even though I'd just swallowed Dr. Amar only less than an hour before. And I was going to get a second helping. "Ahh, uh. Oh. Nothing, it's...i-it's just..." I pushed my way down on my dad's cock even further, feeling each of the veins on my tongue. "...just, uh...." he cleared his throat. I wrapped my lips around him further, feeling him sliding down my throat, my jaw stretching, the corners of my mouth feeling sore, but it was a soreness that--for my dad--I welcomed. "Sebastian," he whispered, "Seb," he said louder, "he's buggin' me, ha," he said sheepishly. I continued to hear my mother's voice over the phone. Dull static that was keeping my dad's attention from me. I dove down on my dad's dick until his pubes tickled my nose. "Sehngh...Seb!" he yelled. I paused, looking up at him. He seemed to be yelling past me. Not at me. Dad glanced down at me, signalling me to let up. I slid my mouth slowly off of his dick, keeping my eyes on him. Dad's eyes fluttered as I moved my lips. I licked my lips, and then yelled back, "Yes, sir?" I wrapped my hands around his dick, stroking him. "Take out the trash, will ya?" he called. I picked up on what he was doing. Pretending that my mother thinks I'm not around. "Yeah!" I called. Dad stared at me, longingly. Waited a few seconds. "He's been a good boy, Leann," Dad continued. Me still standing in front of him. It meant a lot to hear him say that. I smiled. "Yep, he's been real good," he said lowly into the receiver. He placed his hand behind my head, and pulled me back to his dick. My face smeared against his cock, drenched with my spit. My mouth hung open, my tongue blindly searching for my dad's skin. I pressed my hand into his leg, propping me up, allowing me to swallow my father whole once more. Dad's dick was better than Dr. Amar's. Granted, Dr. Amar did something to me. He got me to shoot cum out of my body in a way I'd not ever done before. And it was incredible. But Dad's dick? Dad's finger hooked through my hair as I, as if out of my control pushed, and forced my dad's cock harder and deeper into my body. I opened my throat, as I was learning how to do better and better, and allowed him past my tonsils, gulping him down like water. I jerked my head up and down his member, slurping, gargling, coughing, his meat. Dad's balls nestled beneath my chin, sticking to my skin as I pulled away. I coiled my hand around Dad's cock, stroking him as I sucked him off. "So, ungh!" he kept talking to my mother "Everything, enngh, still on schedule?" he asked. The idea that he was talking to my mother, as I stuffed my face with his dick, it felt like it had to be wrong. Especially knowing that Dad and I were having...sex. But it also is that thought that sent me into this blind lust. This deep desire to have my dad filling me up inside, to have him close to me, to hold him, to have him under the control of my lips, tongue, mouth. "Ahhhh, yeah," Dad moaned, hands loosening around my neck, jutting his hips forward each time I sank down on his dick. "Ah, uh, nothin. I'm just workin' on this," I saw Dad looking around the kitchen for something to say, "...the sink," he finished. "'S'been leakin since we got here. Jus' tryin to tighten, unnf, this pipe, errrngh." The sucking and slurping sounds bounced off the wall and floor of the kitchen. Dad cradled the phone between his ear and shoulder, teeth bared, and placed his hands behind my ears. I took deep breaths, and widening my jaw for him, preparing him to use my mouth. "Mmph, mmph, mmph, yeah," he said has he drove his dick into my skull. Tears formed in my eyes as I kept up with his pace, tasting his precum, spit falling from my lips, strands of drool dangled from dad's cock. But I wanted more. I signaled to Dad, reaching around to his ass with my hands, and gripping his hips, pulling him more forcefully into my mouth. "Haa, ah, ah, yeah, al...ungh, almost got it," he grunted into the phone. Dad let go of my head, and stumbled back into the counter, allowing me to get better access to his cock. I pulled my mouth away from it, getting to see it fully erect, glowing a deep pink mixed with tans and browns. My spit causing it to shimmer in the afternoon light. I gripped it in my hands, and started jacking off my dad, squeezing it, and letting it slip between my fingers like a bar of wet soap. "Agggh, yes," he sighed. I could still here my mother rambling on the other side of the phone, about who knows what. Dad surged his attention toward me, his brow furrowed, his hips pumping, his dick jutting through my hand, as if he were starving for an orgasm. "Ahh, fuck yeah," he whispered, the receiver no where near his mouth. I could hear my mother talking still. I swooped down into my dad's waist, collecting his cock, swallowing him whole without any struggle. "Haaaa," Dad's voice made my ribs rattle. I dug my chin into Dad's balls, feeling my dad's dick on it's way to my stomach, it felt so deep inside of me. I started slow and went tip to base, slurping up Dad's cock, each time holding my mouth still when I got as far as it would go. Dad moaned softly. His balls rolled against my chin and cheeks. I could tell he needed to shoot. I then picked up my pace, knowing that he was ready to give me his cum. I bobbed up and down on his dick, swallowing any precum that might have leaked from his meat. "Ahhh, fuuuugh," Dad whined, twisting his face, and winding his hips. Dad's knees started shaking as he pressed himself harder against the counter. "I'm gonna cum," he whispered, "I'm gonna cum," he whined. I looked up and the phone was hooked against his waist, nowhere near his ears or mouth. Dad's hips jolted into me even further, and I gripped the beltloops of my dad's pants to ground myself, locking my knees so if he wanted to jam his dick into my mouth, he could, and I wouldn't miss anything. "FuuuuurrrrAAGGHHH!" he roared in the kitchen. Cum spilled into my mouth as I felt his balls tightening against my chin. He was deep in my throat, and I wanted every drop he was making. "...and then she said that should wouldn't be able to get the numbers to me until TUESDAY? Ha! I mean to tell you, I let her know how I felt about that, and you know what she said to me then? Well, she said..." I scowled at the sound of my mother's voice coming through the phone, dangling right next to my ear. Dad continued thrusting his cock into me, cum shooting against my tonsils, my uvula. "...and I really couldn't believe her. I mean do we want to get the job done? Or do we want..." "Raaaawwghhh," Dad groaned. His ankles and knees rattled against the tile floor as I kept sucking him, washing the cum around my mouth, feeling it between my teeth, the insides of my cheeks. "...so now that's why everything is all messed up. But I told my team, 'I'm a professional, we'll handle this, we'll..." I slurped up every bit of spit, cum, sweat I could from my dad's genitals. Getting my fill. I took Dad's cock in my hand, and milked him starting from the base, and sliding my hand to the tip, getting the last ounce of cum. "...all of it should be handled by..." Sucking my dad dry. Dad picked up the phone, resting it against his ear once more. "Mm-hmm," he continued, catching his breath. Dad flung the last bit of cum and spit from his cock onto my tongue, which I accepted gratefully, licking my lips. Dad tucked his dick back into his pants, zipping his fly, fastening his belt. "Yep." He rested his hand on his forehead. Waiting for it to be done. I knew this conversation could go one forever. I hated how much adults talked on the phone. I walked up to Dad, resting my hands on the softening bulge of his jeans. "Dad?" I said softly. "Can I go outside?" Dad jolted out of his post-orgasm, hypnotized stupor. "Yeah, son. S'fine." He kissed me tiredly on the forehead, pulled my chin up so I was facing him, and planted one on my lips, his facial hair scraping against me. I almost regretted saying I wanted to go outside as I looked at him with stars in my eyes, lips sticky and wet with cum. With that kiss, I wanted to pull his cock out all over again, but I knew to wait. I shifted my dick in my shorts before heading to the door. "Uh-huh," Dad continued, "Mm-hmm. Yep. Huh." Dad's voice started to trail off. I stepped outside, Dad's fresh cum on my breath, and decided to explore. As I reached the street, I looked both ways looking at the span of Knottingham St. where we lived now. The Grishams were across the street, I knew that. I remember the names that Sarah Grisham, Paul's twin brother, mentioned when we first strolled down the street on that first day: Lee, Watson, Graham. I couldn't remember which houses were what, so I just decided to walk, and checkout what I saw. The sky had grown grey since the morning, and the original heat that smacked you in the face as you stepped into it, was starting to cool. I let my feet carry me down the street, heading toward the ditch since that was really the only place that I knew to just be alone. I looked at the Grisham's house, and it looked like no one was really home. Lights were off, no car outside. Their yard looked beautiful compared to ours, sharp bushes, some cactus, mulchy flowerbeds with nothing in them. I knew that once my mother arrived gardening would be something she'd task Dad and I to do. Which, if doing chores meant getting to work with my dad, I was fine with it. I was sure we would find someway to make it more fun. I kept walking. A house approaching on my left and right. I couldn't recall about who lived next door to us. They had few generic-looking dogs that ran around in the backyard with a fence made of chicken wire. They looked and sounded somewhat old. They had a nice porch in the backyard with a swing. The front yard had a swooping American flag. Maybe they knew people in the army, I thought. Or maybe they were in the army. I tried scoping out the windows. Maybe I'd see some interesting stuff inside, but they were blocked by curtains, so there was nothing to see. The other house--diagonal from ours--I think was the one where Sarah said that had lost their kids in a car accident. Their lawn looked overgrown, with flowerbeds out of control with weeds, a general sadness caked into the rock walls that made up their house; however, in the driveway sat a beautiful classic car. Bright orange with black stripes. As I walked nearer to it, it said "Camaro" on the back. I didn't know anything about cars, but I couldn't help but be drawn to it. I stepped closer to try and peer inside of the windows, to checkout what the inside might look like. A pale grey leather covered the seats, and the top looked like one of those convertibles that let you drive around without a roof. The idea sounded mystical to me, and kind of scary. I orbited around trying to see the front. "Hey!" a man's voice jolted me out of my investigation. I spun around to see a man wearing a bathrobe and house shoes carrying what looked like a massive quilt. "I-I'm," I started, nervously. I looked him up and down. He seemed a bit older; maybe his late 50s. His skin pale, legs and chest clouded with messy and curly greyish hair. The same faded black appeared in a ring around his bald head. His cheeks were someone sunken, bags hung from his eyes. His legs seemed tight, as though this was the first time he'd stood up and walked around in a long time. Although the bathrobe draped around his body was baggy and frumpy, his wide shoulders gave me an idea of what his body must have looked like under the bathrobe. My mind instantly started racing with images of a shaggy chest and stomach, how big his dick might have been. I shook my head, snapping out of my sexual trance. "I-I'm sorry. I was just..." The man ignored me and started covering up his car with the blanket he was holding. "Y-you," he stammered. "I was just looking at your car," I said. "68," was all he said, ignoring me. "68?" I repeated. "'68 Camaro. 1968. First-generation. It was an accident." He rambled on, tucking his car into the quilt. It seemed to fit the car, almost like a sock, completely shielding it from anything that might have I watched this man circle his car four times, inspecting each corner, smoothing out any wrinkles. "An accident?" "Frank!" a woman called from the front door. "Frank," she said hurrying up to him. "Why are you terrorizing this poor boy?" She floated up to him slipping her arm between his. "H-he," Frank started, dazed, "h-he looks like..." "Now, now," she cooed, "get inside. Before it rains." Frank left her side and shuffled toward the door. The woman put her hands on her hips watching him walk away. "Phew," she sighed. "I'm so sorry, young man." She wiped her hands on her dress. She was wearing a collared top, blue, with some embroidery on the back, and a soft white dress on the bottom. Her hair was brown, with streaks of grey. She had laugh lines cutting into her face. "He's really a nice man," she continued. "Uh," she started again, "Are you just wandering around by yourself? Where are your friends?" she asked sensitively. "Oh, I, uh," I thought of an excuse. "I'm just taking a walk," I explained. "You're the new family, aren't you," she went on. "Oh, yeah. That's me, I guess," I said with a shrug. "Oh, well how nice! I'm Martha Pierce. My husband's name is Frank." "I'm Sebastian." "Sebastian! What a great name!" There was a pain behind her enthusiasm. I could tell that she had to put on a performance wherever she went. "Well, if y'all need anything, don't be a stranger. I'm gonna get out of here before the sky opens up." She waved good-bye and headed back inside, following her husband. What an odd pair of people, I thought. I continued toward the ditch making superficial observations. No one seemed to be risky travelling outside whatsoever. I looked up at the sky, and the clouds that were only thickening when I first stepped outside, were turning a dark gray. No rain yet. Just wind. I got to the ditch and climbed up the concrete wall toward the barbed wire separating the neighborhood from the Farmer's Yard. In this cloudy afternoon, the yard seemed even more threatening than ever. The pile of dirt that Paul, Sarah, and I climbed looked taller, more daunting. The house seemed to be looking worse. It looked like a war zone. One had to wonder what kind of farm this even was, much less what the point was of any of this plot of land. I stood by the fence, letting that same dusty breeze that seems to singe the skin when standing too close; the NO TRESPASSING sign a constant reminder of what's on the other side. My dick was stirring beneath my shorts, thinking of...well, Him. The farmer. I prayed for binoculars so that I could see inside that house of his. Maybe catching a glimpse of his towering body. The wild strawberry blonde hair that covered his body. That cock. My breath shuddered, imagining it. When he had me bent over his legs, driving his hand against my ass. His dick inches away from my lips. Feeling its warmth so close to my face. A door slamming snapped me out of my memory. Without realizing it, my cock was in my hand. My forearm practically halfway disappeared into my shorts. I squinted in the distance, toward the farmer's house, where the noise had come from. Two bodies were exiting the farmer's house. I stepped closer to the fence, resting my hand on the barbed wire, getting a better look. One of them had a suit. Dark hair. The other was unmistakably the farmer. Only wearing a pair of overalls, the same I remember him wearing last time. Over a foot taller than the guy he was talking to. Except it wasn't really talking. It was more yelling. Angry yelling. "NO ONE!" I heard the farmer yell, jabbing his finger into the man. "MINE!" he yelled firmly. His voice, even meters away was enough to send shivers from my head to my toes. I wanted his hands on me. Clouds started to darken the sky, and thunder started rumbling in the distance. Heavy drops of water started to--one by one---pummel the concrete and the earth. Steadily the rattle of rain built and a curtain of water started to spread across the neighborhood. I knew I needed to get home, but I took one more long look at the farmer. A thick cloud of dust picked up by the rain in the farmer's yard obscured my view. All I saw was him point a finger at the man in the suit, and then walk away toward his house. For a split second, I could have sworn that he took a long look at me, but he could have been looking at anything. I wanted him looking at me. Something in my chest was pulling me toward him. My hole buzzed and ached with need. As I heard the farmer's door slam over the rain, I stood a bit longer. Holding my firm cock in my hand. Not wanting to leave just yet. Rain water drenched me. Strands of hair dangled into my eyes, but I stood still, not minding the cool wash over me. Water fell down my shorts, spraying my small but firm prick. Certain that no one was around, I kept squeezing it, pulling it from my shorts, and letting my dick bounce in the outside air. I slowly stroked myself while starting at the farmer's yard. "Keep yer cum off my property," that's what he said. I slid my free hand beneath my balls, working my fingers around my asshole, stretching my shoulders to be able to touch all of these parts of me that desired to be touched. "SEBASTIAN!" I heard my dad's voice thundering among the storm. I was shaken to attention, and suddenly realizing just how soaked I actually was. I started sprinting. Clothes heavy from rain, and my boner jammed against the inside of my shorts. Rain whipped against my skin as I darted as quickly as I could home. Horny as hell. "Dad?" I called as I opened the door. "Seb?" he met me in the front den. "Holy shit," he grumbled. "What happened t'you?" he asked, touching my wet hair. "It started raining while I was outside," I explained. "Really hard, Dad." Dad glanced outside. "Hm, I guess it is," he agreed. He slipped his hands under my shirt. "I don' wan't you drippin' all through this house like that with all those wet clothes." He peeled my wet shirt off, and balled it up in his hands. I shivered, my nipples had to have looked like Tic-tacs they were so hard and small. I grabbed my shoulders and shook my knees trying to get warm. Dad hooked his thumb into my shorts and unbuttoned and unzipped them, slumping them to the floor. Dad took my underwear and yanked them down my hips, my dick springing into the air, pointing toward the ceiling. I held my arms, and rubbed my knees together, hoping to kindle some kind of warmth. "We got dinner at the Grishams in a coupl'a hours," he said looking at me, shivering, still wet from the rain. "Ha," he laughed, ruffling my sopping wet hair. "Let's hit the showers before heading over there." I sighed with relief and excitement. Warm water, and my dad's naked body: both things I was dying for right now. I took quick small steps following my dad's confident strides to the bathroom, my dick bouncing against my stomach as I tip-toed across the floor. Dad's bathroom is way nicer than mine, and way bigger too. The floor is a kind of warm peach colored tile, and there's a huge mirror that stretches over two different sinks. There's a window, but it's perched closer to the ceiling so that you can still have your privacy. The shower was the best part. Both of us could easily fit in there, with glass surrounding that fogged up as you used it. Dad twisted the faucet for the shower and started stripping down as the water warmed up, spraying the tile floor, filling the room with white noise. He stretched his shirt over his head. I loved it when Dad took his shirt off. The way his pecs become flat and stretched, the way he reveals his thickets of armpit hair, the way his chest inflates with muscle when his arms come down. He slid and kicked his pants off, standing in his underwear for a while. Steam started to billow from the inside of the shower. Dad reached into the shower testing the temperature. "We're good," he said. Dad hooked a thumb in his briefs and slid them down his waist and legs. Dad's dick, even when it was limp, a good five or six inches, flopped on top of his balls as the fabric ran down his lower half. Even soft, I couldn't help but want to take it in my mouth. And feel it grow inside my skull. I shook my head slightly, my wet locks of hair dancing over my eyes, waking up from my brief day dream. Dad disappeared behind the walls of the shower, and I knew to follow him. As though my legs were stilts I wobbled to the shower, following the cloud of warm water. As I rounded the corner of the shower, I saw my dad, shining under the stream of water, kneading a cloud of soap on his chest and stomach. I huddled under the water next to Dad, a wave of warmth covering me from head to toe. I sheepishly ran my fingers over the backs of my arms, letting warm water hit the back of my neck, streams running down my stomach. I looked up at Dad, his eyes closed, water running across his eyelids. I tugged on my hard-on, watching my dad soap himself. His cock a bit more full. I took it in my hands, feeling my dad's dick, its soft firmness between my fingers. "Mmmm," Dad grumbled, his voice reverberating in the bathroom. I placed my other hand beneath Dad's balls, while milking his dick. "Ahh," I saw his eyes squint. I bent over, kissing the tip of his dick. "Haa," Dad's stomach tightened. I opened my mouth a little water, wrapping my lips around his dick, sucking on the tip. "Ah, Seb," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder, pushing me slightly. "I need a little break, bud," he admitted. A break? I was confused. My dick twitched as water made contact with my skin. I stared at my dad's body, running my hands through his hairy stomach and chest, feeling his muscles. "Let's wash up," he said. I looked at my feet, disappointed. I wanted to cum so badly. It'd been at least five or six hours since Dr. Amar sent me over the edge. I needed release. I took the soap in my hands and started washing myself, under my armpits, across my stomach, under my balls. I rolled my eyes feeling my fingers run against my nuts. I tugged on my dick with a soapy hand, feeling how smoothly it slid across my prick. "Hmph," Dad smiled. "Can't help yerself." I looked up at Dad, eyes glazed over. If I could send him a message telepathically, it would be "Please. Please let me cum." "Yer like an old man without his cigarettes," he cupped water in his hands, dumping over my head, anointing me with shower water. My chest and stomach shone with water and the residue of soap. I dug my fingers into my abs, sliding my hand down my hips, feeling just below my balls. The buzzing in my asshole stirred once more, twisting my stomach into knots. "Ahhh," I let out a moan. "Dad," I whined. "C'mon, Seb," he said, taking the soap back in his hand. "We gotta get a move on." He turned me around and started washing my back, almost like a teacher erases a chalkboard. I sighed in frustration. His hands were soft and slick in the water. Different from the calloused instruments that had prodded and ran over me in the past. I swayed, hypnotized by my father's touch. I fell slightly backward, feeling the warmth of his chest and stomach hair graze my skin. Dad's cock pressed against the small of my back. I loved how soft and malleable it felt against me. Just as good as when it was hard. My own dick was erect and firm. In the soft light of the bathroom it almost looked golden. I took it in my hand, squeezing it from the base to the tip. I shuddered at the feeling of both my own and my father's touch. Dad's hands continued washing my back, the back of my neck. I circled my shoulders, pressing into his hands, urging him to press deeper into me. I rocked back and forth on my heels as Dad painted my body with soap and water. I could have stood like this all day. Eventually I felt my dad's cock growing, snaking its way up my spine, resting itself at the peak of my ass. Dad's hands started exploring further down my body, taking my hips and thighs in his hand. The back of my head rested between his chest, and I could see his nipples in my periphery. I felt like I was being consumed by him. By his stature, his muscle, the power I knew he had over me. But I was certainly aware of the power that I had over him. Dad scooped up my ass in his hands, groping, feeling the tenderness and the little muscle that I already had stored there. He squeezed, smoothened, kneaded, spread, did what he wanted with my ass. "Hmm," I heard him growl into my ear as he kept playing with my ass. His fingers circled my hole, causing me to tense up. It stung a little bit. I inhaled sharply through my teeth, squeezing my cheeks together. That faint buzz that I felt in my hole was even stronger now. Dad slipped one of his fingers inside, stretching the ring of my anus, just like Dr. Amar did. Water pooled and collected like a small bowl in my dad's hand. The foam of water building beneath my balls "D-dad," I groaned, "th-that feels..." I looked down at my dick. It was bouncing and twitching, reacting to my dad's hands. "Good, Seb?" Dad murmured into my neck, rubbing his nose along my shoulder, his stubble scratching me. His finger dug a bit deeper inside, his finger nail slightly scratching against the wall of my rectum, his knuckle pressing against the ring of my hole. My knees weakened slightly, and my eyes pinched closed. "A-ahh, errgh!" I growled, lifting a foot of the ground, trying to alleviate the pain in my ass that was my dad's finger. "Hmmm," Dad withdrew his finger, and my shoulders sunk with relief. My hole continued buzzing, wanting to feel him once more. Even if it did kind of hurt. "S-sorry, Dad," I mumbled, still facing away from him. "It just...hurts a lil'." I was frustrated. Why did it hurt so much? "Here," Dad said, squatting down behind me once more, spreading my ass cheeks carefully with his hands. I turned my head to see what my dad was up to. It was strange seeing my dad this way. Staring at my hole, slackjawed, hunger in his eyes. Shutting his eyes, Dad dove face first into my asshole, grinding his jaw into me. "Ahhh-HAA!" I gasped. Dad's tongue circled and twisted its way inside of me. My dick jerked and spasmed. A string of precum descended toward my feet, my knees shook. Dad smacked and slobbered as he gobbled up my hole with greedy sounding snarls. His hands massaged and squeezed my ass, pulling them further apart so he could get as deep of a taste as he could. It felt like being showered with sparks. Mist from the shower billowed around us, my stomach pressed against the wall, my the tip of my cock sandwiched between my stomach and the glass. "Unghh, D-dad," I lifted a leg up, my dad assisting me by resting it on his shoulder. Like a mechanic, he swooped beneath me, tonguing my hole, my balls, the base of my cock. He was like an artist with a canvas, painting me with his tongue. "Urgh, here, son," he said into my taint. He brought my leg down, and guided me to the tile floor, laying me down. The warm water spraying on me felt good. Just the spray of water tickling my skin could have been enough to make me cum, but I knew Dad wanted me for himself, so I focused on him and his hulking body standing before me. I had to cover my eyes as the thin curtain of mist started to irritate and sting. Dad twisted and turned off the water, leaving us in our own warm fog. Dad stood over me, glistening from the water, delivering drops from his skin, hitting my chest, nipples, my lips. I laid still, like some sort of salamander creature, slick and amphibious in a swamp. Dad squatted down and took my cock in his mouth. I shuddered at the feeling of his warm and moist mouth taking every inch of me with ease. Dad ran his hands across my wet body, twisting my nipples between his fingers. He slurped and slobbered on my dick driving me wild. I felt bottled up. Desperate to cum into my dad's mouth. "Dad, that feels....ungh...that feels so good," I whimpered, grabbing the back of my dad's head and moving my hips along with his rhythm, thrusting my dick into him, just like he liked to do to me. My stomach tightened showing off my typically hidden six-pack as I thrust into my dad's head, mimicking the sexual growls. Dad spanked and scooped his hands on my ass, and pulled me into him even more. Lifting me like some piece of equipment. My dick disappeared behind his lips, my balls nestled against his chin. My butt, hips, and back were completely off the floor, being supported by Dad's strong arms. Dad let go of my dick with a pop of his mouth and rested me back on the tile floor, stroking my dick in his hands. I could feel my balls inflating with cum, and I wanted to release it so badly. Dad lifted my legs, bending me backwards so that my ass was in the air, my hole exposed to the warm fog of the shower. My dick--aching to cum--swung maybe six inches from my face. Dad squatted near me, his dick pressed against my back. I could hear the bright sounds of Dad squeezing his dick with his hands, jacking himself off. Dad slid his tongue into my hole once more, my vision blurring at the sensation. I gripped Dad's legs trying to hold in this orgasmic energy that he was sending me. Suddenly, Dad stood up, his breathing somewhat labored, continuing to stroke his dick in wide sweeping motions. "Ah, ahhh AHH FUCK," he yelled, and suddenly bent over me, like a quarterback ready to take a snap. Dad crawled closer, and met his face with mine, kissing me on the lips. "UNNGH, FUGG'YEH. UNNNNGH!" Cum came shooting from my dad's dick in thick white ropes. I eagerly and hopefully opened my mouth hoping to land some of it in my mouth, but it came so wildly that it was difficult to catch. Some shot on to my stomach, some my chin, some my lips, some my cock, but Dad took special care to shoot some of it directly onto my asshole like some kind of target. In fact, three good shots landed on my hole, as though he was using a hose to water plants. Dad's cum felt warm on my hole, and as I flexed the ring of my anus, I could feel some of it trickling inside me. "Ahh, yeah, Dad," I whispered. Dad let out a sigh resting his knees at the sides of my hips. Dad held his hands on the backs of my thighs, catching his breath. I wiped up his cum that was on my stomach and dabbed it on to my tongue, eating it as though it were cake frosting. Dad placed his finger on my cum soaked hole, and slid his finger inside, pushing his cum into me. My eyes bugged out of my head, my hands, out of my control, fumbled around the floor for something to grip. They settled for the back of my dad's naked thighs. "OhhhAHH! UNNGH. D-DADD." I cried as my dad's index finger sank into my ass. His cum was still hot, and the sensation of it inside my ass was strange, almost scaldingly hot against the inside of my hole, but still incredibly satisfying. Dad's gravelly voice filled the shower, punctuated by steady drips of water to the tile floor. "Oh, gaaawd," I moaned. "I can feel yer cum in me, Dad." After it was completely in, Dad's didn't hurt at all. In fact, it felt like hardly anything. I could definitely tell that there was something in there, but there wasn't any pain, or pleasure really until-- "HAAN-G-GH!!" I screamed. Dad's finger twisted and hooked inside my ass. The prostate, I thought. "You okay?" Dad asked. His pecs pressed up against my legs. His softening dick against my spine. He knelt closer. "Yes, Dad. Yes. YES," I growled shifting my hips to feel more of him in me. My eyes clenched closed. "Mmmm," he hummed in return. He pulled his finger out, but only before sliding both his index and his middle finger in me at the same time. "OHHH, GRRR'D" My voice started to take on my dad's guttural groans in response to pleasure. Dad slid his free hand across my legs, and eventually coiled them around my dick. Because we were still so wet, we must have looked like we were made of glass. Dad's hands and fingers made my toes curl. His two fingers buried themselves deeper into my ass. My own precum drizzled onto my face like some kind of syrup. "Mmm, yeah, Seb. Some'n's definitely happenin'," he remarked. Hearing my dad's voice as he fingered me was enough to send me over the edge. But I needed-- "More," I whispered. Dad's fingers continued working inside of me. Twisting, prodding, Dad's cum creating a foamy moat around the ring of my tight hole. "Wassat, son?" Dad asked. I peered through my teary eyes to see my dad's muscled arm twitching and flexing as he kept his focused probing of my hole. "M-more, p-please," I said louder, my eyes rolling in my head, my neck tightening, precum continuing to seep through my dick and onto my chin and lips. Dad continued to yank on my dick as he pushed and pulled his fingers in and out out of my hole. "More?" he teased, halfway smiling. He enjoyed this. I knew he did. He knew it was driving me crazy. "Is this...better than the doctor?" "Mmmmm. M-more. Mm-or-reeegh," I hummed in gibberish, writhing on the bathroom floor. I reached for my dad's arm, hoping to force more of him into me. My balls ached to cum, and I was so close. I was so close. I craned my neck to look my dad in the eye, his fingers inside me as though they were in a bowling ball. "Yes, Dad. M-more. UMPH" I responded, with a yearning in my voice, hoping to encourage Dad for more. More of anything. He knew what it would take for me to shoot. He knew what to hold back, and what to give. Dad removed his fingers, covered in his cum and delivered them to my lips. My breath became more rapid, as I opened my mouth for him. Hungrily, I accepted them between my lips, licking them clean, without even thinking or questioning about where those fingers just were. A third finger went into my mouth and I gladly suckled and wrapped around it with my tongue. Removing them from my mouth, I took a deep exhale. Dad's hand was still working my cock, but there was nothing in my ass. I used a free hand to pull my ass apart, presenting my hole to my dad. Dad stared at it admiringly. He smiled, and once again, dove into it like a bird seeking a fish. His tongue snaked inside of me, deeper than ever before. "UNNGH! YEEERGH! YEAH DAD. UNNGHFF!" I growled through gritted teeth. I used my hand to the back of my dad's wet skull to press his face deeper into my ass, his tongue halfway to my guts, it felt like. My legs started shaking slightly. Tears streamed down my face. Not from pain, but from overwhelming pleasure. My tongue collected whatever precum it could find as dad's warm tongue scoured my insides, sending waves of fiery jolts through my bones. Dad let off my ass with a smack of his lips, still milking my cock with his hand. Using his other, this time he surged three fingers into my ass. "HUUUUNGH!" I sang, almost startling myself at how it reverberated in the bathroom. "'Zat feel good, Sebastian?" he asked driving three fattest fingers into my hole as he continued to milk my cock. "UNNMPH. GAWWD. YESSSRRRGH," I wailed, eyes bugging out of my head. "More, Dad. More! YESS. "My balls tightened around my dick. My hands gripped my dad's thighs as tight as I could. Dad's three fingers scooped and dug in and out of my hole. "K-k-keep g-going, UNGH. DA-AHHD," my torso shook and quivered as my balls clenched the base of my dick. Dad continued driving this three fingers in and out of my ass, all while clutching my dick with his hands. "I'M ENGH..." I squealed, clear precum sprinkled against my face like it was just regular water. I took three deep breaths, my hole closed around Dad's fingers as his fingertips jabbed and massaged my prostate. "I'M CUMMINNNNG!" Dad punched in and out of my asshole, furrowing his brow, focusing on the magic that he was creating with his fingers. Focusing on me. Fast spurts of cum shot against my face as I cried in pleasure, painting streaks across my cheeks, nose and lips. Electricity surged through my legs. I stretched open my mouth, catching what I could, tasting my own cum on my tongue. "OOHHUUUNGH!" I bellowed. Dad's fingers slowed in my ass, but more cum continued to leak from my cock. "Keep going, Dad. DON'T STOP. PLEASEE-EH DON'T STARRP. KEEP GOINNNGEH!" I screamed in ecstacy, as he picked up his pace once again, his fingers plowing into my as though digging through earth. Small dribbles of cum, the last bits I could produce, fell on to my eyelids like rain. I panted, hoping to regain my breath. Cum puddled on bits of my face. I fell limp. My body slapped against the tile floor like a wet towel. My back straightened, my ass rested against the wet tile floor, my legs sat on each side of my dad's legs. I just wanted to sleep here, in my own afterglow. Dad slid his fingers from my ass. He examined them carefully and licked them clean from his cum. He amazed me. It was in moments like this that I knew he loved me. Even possibly more than anything else in the world. "You okay, Seb?" he asked simply. "Ff-f," I managed to spit from my lips. Dad laughed at me, seeing me in this state. My vision shimmered with color, leaving me stunned, disoriented. "Dinner's soon," he said stoically. "Les' git goin'." Dad stood up, his knees cracking, reminding me that he'd been kneeling on this hard floor the whole time, and left the shower in a cloud of fog. Leaving me deflated, tingling, drenched, speckled with my own cum. "O-okay," I said softly, feeling my heartbeat in my dick, feeling like a feather drifting down to earth. ________________ "So what have you boys been up to today?" Mrs. Grisham's asked pleasantly as she passed garlic bread to my dad. Walking across the street that night to the Grisham's house was an interesting experience. My hole, even more than earlier, was wanting more of what Dad gave me, just thirty minutes prior. My right leg even gave out at one point, Dad having to hold me up by his shoulders. "We've, uh--" Dad with a mouth full of lasagna, off guard. He finished chewing and swallowed. I looked at him, smirking. "We've just been, uh, getting the rest of our stuff unpacked. Tryin' t'relax." "I'll bet!" she responded. "It's been a really hot summer. Hottest summer we've had in a while. But I'm sure y'all are used to that in--uh--where did y'all come from?" "Small town, further south," Dad responded. "And Sebastian," Mrs. Grisham started. "What about you?" I looked up from my piece of garlic bread. "What are you interested in? What do you like to do?" I glanced at my dad. He responded with a shrug. What did I say? "Yes, Mr. Grisham, I really enjoy sucking my dad's dick, and having people put their fingers in my ass." That would be insane. But it would have been an honest answer. Even now sitting at the dinner table in a stranger's house, all I wanted to do was get under the table "I like swimming," I responded. "I've got my first practice tomorrow." "Ah, with Coach Scott?" Mr. Grisham said entering from the kitchen. I was surprised he knew him. "I heard he rides those boys really hard. Hope you're ready." My stomach turned out of nerves. I hoped I was ready, too. "We had swim meets at the lake in our town before moving here," my dad explained. "It'll be different. But he'll do great." I smiled at my dad's support. "I'm sure he will," Mr. Grisham gave me a warm smile, and tucked into his dinner. The table continued chatting. I told them that I was going into seventh grade, same as Paul and Sarah. The twins talked about which teachers were the worst, but not about ones that were good. Dad talked about building furniture, and then things started to branch off into different clouds of conversation. The Grisham's house looked like maybe a grandparents would. Pictures of unknown family members. Lots of religious iconography. Crosses, bible verses cross-stitched into frames, doves, amens. Very quaint. I was almost afraid to break anything. I could help but observe Mr. Grisham. He ate his dinner carefully with a fork and knife. Didn't get any sauce on his face, didn't slurp his food, dabbed his napkin on around his lips even though nothing was there. He was no doubt a handsome man. I couldn't help but compare him to my dad, and wonder if Paul and Sarah was as admiring of their father as I was to mine. Mr. Grisham was taller, more slender, and definitely more tightly wound. He had sandy blonde hair that he kept in a neat fold on his head. A haircut every two weeks at the same place, I thought. He had a pronounced nose and sharp jaw. Completely clean shaven. His forearms rippled as he played with his fork. I shifted uncomfortably thinking about him. I darted a look at my dad watching him try to talk to a very bubbly Mrs. Grisham. The two couldn't have been any less alike. "Kids, why don't you show Sebastian around the house?" Mrs. Grisham said turning to Paul and Sarah. I knew that was code for "Go away so the adults can talk." "Alright!" Sarah pushed herself away from the table, pulling Paul by the arm. "Ow!" he cried. I laughed and followed them. The rest of the house was similar to the dining room. Not a speck of dirt anywhere. Everything was in a particular place. Every bed was made (except for Sarah's. Her room was a disaster). Looking at their parent's room, I'd never guess that anyone slept in it. A bible on the nightstand, lamps on either side. "We're really never supposed to be in here," Paul chimed in. "So, let's get outta here." "Yeah, let's go," Sarah parroted. I wanted to search inside their drawers to find something wrong. Like a girly magazine, or cigarettes, but I knew there couldn't be anything. "Okay!" Sarah clapped her hands. "Let's hide around the house and see if we can find each other." Paul rolled his eyes. "Really, Sarah? Hide-and-seek?" Paul seemed like someone who detested the idea of games. "I'll count first," she conceded. "Sarah, this is--" "ONE TWO THREE," Paul and I scurried away. "Don't follow me!" he yelled playfully. "You're following ME!" I yelled back. We split up. Paul went toward the bathroom, and I ran toward the Grisham's room. Once I got inside, I shut the door. I was alone. I looked around at where I should hide. Under the bed? I checked underneath, and saw lots of tupperware boxes full of wrapping paper rolls and decorations. No good. I looked around frantically. Behind the curtains? Not long enough. Everything was so perfectly in order, finding no where to hide. "READY OR NOT HERE I COME!" I heard Sarah call. Crap! I thought. I looked around for one more second and saw a door slightly ajar. Without thinking, I swung it open and stepped inside. The room was pitch black except for the faint evening light that crept through the crack beneath the door. A familiar smell wafted through the air. Or a number of smells at least. I fumbled around the dark room and felt different types of fabric, and I finally figured out where I was. I was in a closet. And from the feeling of the different materials, it was Mr. Grisham's. My fingers ran across wool blazers, soft cotton button-ups, iron-pressed slacks. My nose took in the different smells of shoes and laundry detergents. It was kind of intoxicating. I was taking refuge in a space stocked with Mr. Grisham's most personal things. Once again, I felt my dick stirring in my shorts. I sank deeper into the curtain of clothes hiding further inside. I felt an embrace of fabrics, sleeves, pant legs. Suddenly, my foot bumped something hard and plastic. "Laundry hamper," I thought. I stooped lower, a khaki pant grazed across my nose, a coat jacket sleeve brushed my ear. If I closed my eyes, and sank into the darkness of this closet, it was almost like Mr. Grisham was touching me. I could see Mr. Grisham in my mind as I closed my eyes. My brain was full of foggy images of light, shooting back to the dream I'd had where Paul, Mr. Grisham and I clung to my dad's towering penis. My brain created this man made of marble. Each second I dedicated Mr. Grisham to my thoughts, his image became more and more clear to me. I pictured him in this room of white, smoke--or were they clouds--swirling around him. I stooped back into the closet and pressed against a navy blue jacket. I saw in my head, Mr. Grisham in this same jacket, pressing himself against me, laying his hands on my shoulders, my chest, my back. Letting me sit on his lap. I imagined what his grown-up dick felt like against my boyish ass. I shoved my hand down my shorts and played with my crotch. It ached a bit since I'd only came maybe an hour ago, but the combination of smells and sensations was making me stiff as hell. THUD THUD THUD I froze, hearing footsteps outside the walls of this tiny room. After they faded, I exhaled. My heartbeat was in my ears. My eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness of this closet. I made out the patterns on the jackets, mostly plain. I began to see the shoes lined up on a rack against the wall. Shined, without a scuff. Tucked in the corner I saw a few oddly patterned garments. Multiple colors, almost neon. Bright yellows, reds, and blues, all mixed together. Really? I thought, wondering what it could be especially as they seemed so out of place with all of Mr. Grisham's conservative clothing. I reached out and touched it and the material was soft and smooth, almost like skin itself. I pulled it away from the hanger and realized that there were five differently designed and colored bicycling suits. I pulled on the stretch material feeling it in my hands as I continued to squeeze my dick inside Mr. Grisham's closet. I pictured Mr. Grisham wearing one of these outfits. The material hugging and shaping to his body. I saw the outline of his chest accented by two firm nipples protruding outward. I saw his pale, lean legs, sparsely dusted with blond hair. Heat began taking over this small space, filling with my steady breath. I looked over at the hamper to see a mixed pile of socks, t-shirts, and a couple of what looked like black briefs--bike shorts--made of similar material to his cycling suits. My mind instantly shot to an image of a statuesque Mr. Grisham wearing nothing but these, standing near me seductively, grabbing his crotch biting his lip. I leaned over and picked them up, holding them in my hand. I pictured Mr. Grisham towering over me, myself at his knees, a massive bulge in his shorts. Mr. Grisham hastily removed my clothes so that I was standing naked before him, a five-inch prick as my only weapon. I ground my hips into the wad of Mr. Grisham's underwear, and imagining him in this white smoky dream, him pressing me against a wall, humping me, pressing his hard cock into my own. "Do you want my dick, Sebastian?" I heard his voice in my mind say, coyly. "Yes," I whispered. Without thinking, I brought the shorts to my face. As they got closer I picked up a strong fragrance coming from the fabric of the bike shorts. The scent made my balls jump. I knew he must have worn these whenever he last rode a bike, which, judging by how damp they already were, couldn't have been too long ago. I shoved the shorts in my face, searching for where his crotch must have been. My eyes rolled into the back of my head, the smell almost knocking me out. Suddenly, my image of Mr. Grisham changed. I fantasized him sweaty, just back from a bike ride, perspiration muddling up his haircut, him tugging on his tight bike shorts. Sweat making his pale, but tight stomach shine. I could smell what had to be Mr. Grisham's naked and sweaty cock in these shorts. I leaned against the closet wall, jerking my dick mindlessly, smearing Mr. Grisham's shorts around my face. I pictured Mr. Grisham with a villainous grin, shoving my face into his hard erection. "Yes, Sebastian," he hissed. "You like the way my dick smells through my shorts, don't you?" My hand moved more furiously, pressing his shorts firmer into my face allowing his musk to enter my lungs. "Unngh," I moaned quietly. I needed Mr. Grisham's cock. I needed it inside my mouth. I pictured Mr. Grisham's muscles twitching with pleasure as I satisfied his lust. "Suck it, Sebastian. My hard and sweaty cock. Just for you," he coaxed. This man of the church. This man of God. "Ohhmmf." I started wadding Mr. Grisham's shorts in my mouth. Yes, I thought. I could actually taste him. Salty, sweet, bitter, all of it. What his sweaty dick after a bike ride might taste like. I gummed and suckled on the wet fabric, tasting the salt of Mr. Grisham's cock on my tongue. "Oh, Sebastian." His voice echoed through my foggy mind. "Your mouth feels so good on my hard dick!" It sent me into overdrive. "Mmphh. Mmpph," I whined, my hand moving furiously over my dick, shoving more of Mr. Grisham's bike shorts. I pictured Mr. Grisham, hands tangled in my hair. "Yeah, Sebastian," I heard his voice. "Suck my huge, gigantic cock. Show me what you're dad gets every night." "AhhhNNGH," I bit down on Mr. Grisham's bike shorts, my own pants slid to the floor. I gagged myself with his underwear a tight ball of salty, sweaty fabric in my mouth. My right hand twisting around my cock, using my precum as lubricant, my left feeling my chest and my stomach. "Oh, Sebastian, your mouth feels so good on my bi-iiig cock. I wish YOU were my son so that I could feed you my cock anytime I wanted. Unngh yeah, suck all of it. Taste my sweet dick!" I heard Mr. Grisham say in my mind. I slid Mr. Grisham's bulge as far as it could in my throat, still covered in bike shorts. I felt my balls pulse, "Unngh, yeah, Sebastian, you're so good at sucking cock. No one else makes me feel as good as you do. Unnngh, I love how your mouth feels. You lo-oove sucking thick and hard cocks. You're the best at it!" he yelled triumpantly. My imagination wasn't very good when it came to jacking off alone, and I realized I was making Mr. Grisham act silly and ridiculous, but I didn't care. The more I thought of Mr. Grisham handling me, the more aroused I became. I balled Mr. Grisham's shorts so that the entire pair was in my mouth. "That's right, Sebastian. Take my whole cock inside of your mouth. Swallow the whole thing. Ungh! You're so perfect! YES!" I imagined what Mr. Grisham sounded like having sex, but it was pretty difficult to imagine. But I made do with what bits of his voice I could recall. "Oh, Sebastian," he whined, repeatedly saying my name. "Your dad must be the luckiest man in the world! OHNGH!" I imagined, Mr. Grisham stiff and salty cock pushing deeper inside my mouth. His bike shorts filled my cheeks as I gummed and gagged on them, masturbating to the sensation of Mr. Grisham's laundry. "Unngh, grrrd," I whined, precum seeped around my fingers, and the slick sound of me jacking off echoed against Mr. Grisham's clothes. "I never want your mouth to leave my amazing cock, Sebastian. Suck my dick, Sebastian." Mr. Grisham's pretend commands made cum inflate my balls, my breath becoming labored. "Please, Sebastian, keep sucking my dick. I'll do anything for you to never stop," he pleaded desperately. "Ohhmmph, UMMPH, UUNGH," I growled into Mr. Grisham's underwear. "Yes, Sebastian! Cum! Let me see you cum! Let me see how a boy like you can cum from a grown man's cock in your mouth. OGGUNGH, I'M CUMMING, TOO. UNNGH! YES. TASTE MY SWEET DELICIOUS CUUUUHMMMNGHH!" "AAAHNGH! UNNGH!" my muffled moans filled the closet as cum shot from my dick, forcing me backwards, fumbling against the wall. I chewed on Mr. Grisham's underwear as I saw flashes of my father's dick, Coach Scott's chest, Dr. Amar's balls, the farmer's heavy cock, Mr. Grisham's face mid-orgasm, Mr. Pierce taking off his bathrobe, firing through my head as cum continued trickling out of my dick. "Ummph, ummph," I whined and whimpered, exhausted, as though making a long swim. I leaned against the wall, like a crumpled napkin. The bike shorts fell out of my mouth as my jaw started to relax. Any cum that was on my fingers I slipped into my mouth, gingerly tasting my own seed. I slumped to the floor, my erection twitching, and slowly softening. "He's probably in HERE!" I heard a voice say. Like glass shattering, I snapped out of my daze. I spit out and tossed Mr. Grisham's shorts back into the hamper. Pulled up my shorts, fastening them tightly, and sat very still. A light turned on in the Grisham's bedroom. My heart was racing. I had no idea what I looked like, but knowing how I typically look post-orgasm, it'd probably be hard to hide. "Seb-assss-tian," Sarah called. I saw dark blurs appear before the crack of the closet door, and light slowly start to fill the dark closet. "Hmmmm," I saw her looking around. Filing through coat jackets, ties, white-collared shirts. As light entered the room, I glanced over at one of Mr. Grisham's shoes. "Oh, no," I thought. A comet of cum lay splattered on the tips of one of Mr. Grisham's black shoes. He's definitely going to notice that, I thought. "Ah, HA!" Sarah whipped open the curtain of clothes I was hiding behind. She laughed and called to Paul, "Found'm!" "Really?" Paul said from far away. "But we're not supposed to go in there!" "Yeah, that's why it was such a good hiding space," I said out of breath. Sarah, smiled, helping me out. "Uck!" she recoiled from my hand. "Yer all sticky or something." Oh, man, I thought. "Uh, yeah, one of those bug trap things was back there." "And yer hair's all messed up," she added. "It's always messed up," I said shaking my messy hair. "And yer all sweaty," she continued. "It was hot in there! Let me out, wouldya? Geez!" I said jogging ahead of her, and going down stairs. "Yeah, definitely let us know if you're interested!" I heard Mr. Grisham's voice as I made it to the living room. "We'll make you feel welcome, no doubt about it." His voice was chipper and polite compared to the one in my head. The one demanding and begging me to keep sucking on his cock. Looking at him now, I wanted to make my fantasy become a reality. "Uh, yeah, will do," I heard my dad say as he met me by the stairs. Mrs. Grisham came out of the kitchen with a leftover lasagna tupperware. "It was great having you two over!" she beamed handing us the tupperware. "Can't wait to meet the rest of the family." My mother and my sister. I imagined we'd be spending more time with these people, which, as I looked Mr. Grisham up and down further, his narrow waist, his large hands, his ears that seemed to stick out on either side of his head. My eyes scanned further to his waist. Nothing out of the ordinary, but I could only imagine what was inside of those pants. My mouth watered thinking about it. "Thank you for dinner Mr. and Mrs. Grisham," I said politely. "Not a problem, son," Mr. Grisham reached out and grabbed my shoulder affectionately. "We'll have y'all over next time," my dad motioned as we headed out the door and headed home. Later that night, I had trouble sleeping. My mind raced with thoughts of swim practice tomorrow. Nervous about performing well in front of the other kids, nervous about performing well for Coach Scott. Thinking about Coach Scott in the showers. Worrying about getting hard in my Speedo. I tried to put it out of my mind, but I couldn't keep my mind from racing. "Dad," I whispered. He was sleeping on his side away from me. His muscular back came alive with his rustling in bed. My mind was racing with what I had done in Mr. Grisham's closet. Racing with the fact that my dad was laying next to me, naked, not but even a foot away from me. Racing with the fact that tomorrow I'd be seeing the coach that shared my cum in the locker room of a public pool. I sighed, resting my hands on my eyes, trying to ignore my erection. Neither my dad nor myself really decided that we were going to sleep in the same bed tonight. We were growing inseparable. We both had something the other wanted. We knew we could provide it for each other. And that kind of trust that he had in me, to make him feel good, the make him feel comforted and loved, meant the world to me. Tonight, all we wanted was the comfort of the other person nearby. Maybe Dad didn't care about all of that, but I knew I wanted him nearby. "Dad," I whispered again. Nothing but snores in response. Dad turned in his sleep, and finally settled on laying on his back. Dad's dick flopped against his waist as he settled back into the mattress. I stared longingly at his body, wanting nothing more than to continue worshiping each hair on his skin, each muscle, every bone. But instead, I scooted up close and rested my head on his chest, breathing in the hair that lay splayed across his torso. I ran my hand through the soft field of fuzz on his stomach and coiled my fingers around his semi-hard erection. It stiffened and jerked slightly in my hand. Dad's arm rested on my back, pulling me slightly closer. And there I was: comfortably enraptured by my father. A curtain of warmth covered me, and I drifted off to sleep, my dad's cock in my hand. ******************************************************* Chapter 8 to follow. Please email hjk7359@hotmail.com for feedback or constructive criticism. Thank you for reading.