Date: Thu, 9 Dec 2010 04:20:39 -0800 From: James B. Subject: The Hitchhiker and my Dad (Part 2) (Gay Incest) This story is fiction. If this story is illegal in your area or you are underage, I suggest not reading it. This is a read-at-you-own-risk sort of thing. I can't force you to /not/ read it. Basically this disclaimer exists to cover my ass eh? So other usual disclaimers apply. Read at your own risk. Otherwise, enjoy! Be safe guys. This is a fantasy. Consequences of one's actions are suspended in this fantasy. Which is what is it, a fantasy. Critical thinking, always! Author's Note: First up I want to thank the ones who sent me emails, thanks for the feedback, the encouragement, and the suggestions guys. Secondly, I'd like to apologize for the BLATANT typos from the first chapter... in truth, I hardly edited that piece, I just spell checked (^_^)" , I'll work hard to be more meticulous in the future so you all will enjoy the story better. Thirdly, this chapter is going to be written in two perspectives; first Marc's perspective (starting from where we left off), and then as an added background the dad's (Joe's), perspective [a flashback]. Lastly, I was going to post three chapters up. But I completely turned around and re-edited/typed the story to combine elements and parts of the three next chapters into this one LONG ASS second chapter. There's less Brandon in it, but there will be A LOT of him in the chapters to come. Hope you guys will enjoy the story. It's a bit long, but I hope it flows well. It is meant to increase tension and move the story along. For those who ask/asked, yes Joe and Marc (the dad), and the other kids are eventually going to hook up (to varying degrees). I thank you guys for your patience, and I apologize for making you wait! Chapter 2 I was quiet during breakfast, and apparently I was grimacing at my cereal. At least that's what I found out when Paul punched me in the shoulder to get my attention. It turns out my Dad had been calling my name, asking if I wanted more sausages. Now he looked concerned and asked if I was alright. I was being stupid, not paying attention... But I just shook my head and said that I was fine and made up a lie about thinking hard about a test I took yesterday. I think Dad bought my excuse. Although for a moment I thought I saw an odd look on Brandon's face, something like curiosity, before he gave me a big smile and told me not to think too much about it (referring to the test-lie, I guess). After that I ate my breakfast in a more normal (at least I hoped it was normal) pace, and even joined in on the conversation that passed around the table. By conversation I meant Kurt squealing on the high chair, being on his early morning energy rush, Paul jabbering away something about the latest episode of the LevelUp Sheriffs, my Dad trying to get Kurt to calm down and eat, and Brandon looking at the whole scene with a bemused face, while Steve helped my Dad try and get Kurt to keep the food in his mouth long enough for him to swallow. I think Kurt was perfectly capable of feeding himself, but I think he enjoyed the attention, and probably thought that the frustrated look on both Dad's and Steve's faces were amusing. "So guys, what do you say about going to the park today? Not the one close to the elementary school, but the big one at Spruce Timbers Park?" Dad asked, smiling, while Kurt shoved a spoonful of mango in his mouth. "Yeah! I wanna go! Can we? Can we?" Paul asked excitedly. He was practically jumping out of his seat. He turned to Steve, "They have this HUGE jungle gym with like ten slides, and there's like this reaaally long bridge that moves when you walk on it, and like a hundred swings, and..." He was exaggerating of course, but I gotta admit, that's how I looked at it when I was his age too. "How about you buddy?" Dad turned to ask me while Paul still yammered to Steve about the thousands of ducks he chased out of the ocean-wide pond. "I can't Dad, I'm hanging out with Cooper today." I responded. "He wants to go bike to the high school to check out where we're going to be next year, and then after that we're just going to hang out and watch a movie or something." "You can't put that off until some other time though? You don't wanna hang out with us?" Dad asked with a pretend- sad smile (he usually did that to try and guilt me into doing stuff, usually before he toughens up and tells me to do stuff - unlike mom who threatens your very existence if you don't do stuff for her). "Daaad, I'm too old for the playground. Sides I already told Cooper we'd be hanging out today. Can we go to the batting cages again tonight though?" I really was enthusiastic about that last part. Paul didn't like baseball that much. My folks put him in the little league, and he was just miserable, so they took him out. Apparently he wanted to play football, so they put him in that. Dad liked both sports, so he supported both of us, but baseball and the batting cages became our thing. "Deal buddy." He said with a huge smile, while snatching a giant piece of sausage out of Kurt's mouth and cutting it up into smaller pieces. "Are you going with them?" I asked Brandon. He'd been quiet the entire time. I already knew Steve would be going with them, since that's his job and all. "Actually no buddy, I've got work today." He said uncrossing his arms, getting up and putting his dishes in the sink. I noticed he didn't wash them. "What do you do by the way?" I asked as nonchalantly as I could. I think I did pretty well. I was just eating and making conversation. "Me? Ummm... right now I'm helping an old friend of mine make movies." He said with a roguish smile. I thought I saw him look at Dad for second. The same with Steve's face, he smiled the same way that Brandon did at Dad. Dad wasn't paying attention and was trying to coax Kurt into finishing up his mango. When Paul heard the word 'movie', the kid went crazy. "You make movies!? Cool! What movies do you make? Can I be in 'em? Can we watch? How do you make one?..." and about a thousand more questions. Paul chuckled from his throat, "Sorry buddy. The kind of movies we make isn't for kids. Maybe when you're older, or if some things change. Have fun at the park guys, have fun at your friend's Marc." He said before heading down for the basement. "Yeah, we better get going too. Here Steve, can you give Kurt a bath while I go and clean up and then take mine?" He said while clearing the dishes. Paul had already dashed off to the bathroom to shower first. "Yeah no problem." He picked up Kurt who was squealing and laughing about something I didn't know. When he passed by me he looked down and gave me a wink. I watched my Dad for a bit in silence while he washed the dishes. I began thinking about what I had seen last night. What crossed my mind was, underneath that shirt, he's hairless and has nipple rings. "Umm, Dad?" I began. He turned around in surprise and looked at me with a smile. "Oh you're still here buddy? You're not going to get ready?" "Paul ran up first, so he'll be in the shower a while." I began. He was looking at me expectantly, having turned off the faucet to put all of his attention on me. I was going to say something else, but instead I said, "I'm really excited about tonight Dad." His face lit up. "Me too buddy." I smiled too. I had a lot to think about as I headed to Cooper's house. I was struggling with coming to terms about what I had seen. A part of me, the intelligent, critical-thinking part, had an idea about what was going on between my Dad and Brandon. And that part was trying to convince me to react in a certain way; fury, betrayal, hate, and a host of other negative emotions that seems to be bubbling just under the surface of my cool facade. The man was hurting my mom. At least he would be if she knew about it. But I also knew, and I couldn't deny it any longer, that there was another part of me that had other emotions about what I had seen and heard. These emotions were more difficult to come to terms with. Two years ago my buddies and I got a hold of a porn mag from some guy's older brother. We looked at the naked women and sometimes even the naked men, but in the magazine, it was mostly women who posed naked. I had felt nothing at that time, only curiosity really. I already knew about sex by then and knew that if I were older, I'd react differently, although I didn't really know how. It wasn't until two years later that I finally understood the flush of emotion that overcomes the body when someone's aroused. It was the first time I reacted to seeing a woman naked, and honestly it wasn't what I expected. I shivered like I was cold, but my body was quite warm. It took everything I had to keep my teeth from chattering. My palms became sweaty and I got an awfully big head rush. My brain buzzed loudly, I remembered that enough. I also remembered my dick getting hard. It was the first time it happened, at least back then I noticed it more explicitly. The first time that I was aware of the overwhelming desire to grab my dick, to squeeze and stroke it. I remember it feeling good, even before I touched it. It was like a rush of adrenaline the shook my entire body. A flush of pleasure, a warmth that encompassed my body and permeated every thought. What confused me was that I had the same emotions now every time I thought about what I had seen yesterday evening. I don't shiver now of course. I didn't shiver after a few months since the first. But I knew enough that what I was feeling right now were of someone getting aroused. My dick was tenting my briefs as I thought about this. I reached down my shorts and re-adjusted my cock and settled it pointing left and up on my thigh. It was disconcerting to know that I got hard thinking about my dad taking a cock up his ass, Brandon's cock; thinking about Brandon's hairy body, my dad's hairless one, and the nipple rings; especially thinking about the way Brandon talked to my dad, and how my dad seemed to accept it so readily. As I kept on thinking about it, I could feel a wetness along my thigh. Reaching down and stroking the spot I realized that pre-cum was leaking out of the head of my dick. Curiosity got the best of me and, with the tip of my fingers glistening from the pre-cum, realized that I liked the feel of the liquid on my skin. I grimaced at the taste. Not because that I didn't like it, but because a quick flash of thought went through my head of wanting more, desiring more. But I shook it aside and kept on walking. It dawned on me in that instant that I was still out in broad daylight, in public. I looked up and saw that I was just standing at the end of the driveway of Cooper's house. Panic seized me. Had anyone seen? I had been so lost in thought that I had forgotten where I was, but somehow I had unconsciously found Cooper's house with little trouble. The sudden panic and fear pushed the eroticism that boiled in my veins aside and the hardness in my shorts vanished. I couldn't help but mutter "fucking idiot" to myself before walking towards Coop's door. It was Mr. Daughtry who answered the door, Coop's dad. Had I knocked or rang the doorbell? I wondered. I must've... I frowned at my own absent mindedness and set myself to pay attention to the moment. All this introspection was fucking with my mind. I've always been known to think too much, to stay in my head longer than many people. People sometimes thought me slow because I took time thinking things through, or for thinking too much. People at first expected me to say a lot, but I always took my time to think things through, at least as much as I could. But this was more the case recently. I told myself to think less about my father and the hitchhiker, especially in public. I was doing things without thinking about it, my face probably flashed emotion the same way. I forced my lips into a nonchalant smile, at least as best as I could after frowning so heatedly. "Hi Mr. Daughtry, is Coop ready?" I asked. "Coop!" He called over his shoulder. "Marc's here. You guys hanging out today?" "Hold on, I'll be right there!" I could hear a voice call right back. Mr. Daughtry motioned with his head, "Why don't you come right on in Marc. I didn't think you guys were hanging out today. He'll be right down." He lead me to a living room that was a splash of green and red. The walls were paneled in sections in a dull red, while the green stretched as wallpaper in long rectangular sections in between the panels. Everything in the room matched the walls. The couch was a dull red hue, the cabinets, tables, and shelves were crimson. And the window hangings were thick and a deep green with yellow polka dots scattered along the fabric. A large flat screen T.V. hung at the far wall above the electrical fireplace with two large stereos attached on the walls on either side. The Daughtrys were well off. They weren't millionaires, or anything of the sort, but they were what could be considered "upper middle class". Mr. Daughtry made a bit more than a hundred grand a year, or so I heard from Coop, as an engineer while Mrs. Daughtry was a dentist. "You guys got a new T.V. Cool." I couldn't help but say. Partially in admiration, and partially for something to say. Mr. Daughtry chuckled and sat down at a red-green checker patterned chair on the other side of the sofa. "Yeah, I couldn't resist. Sit down and make yourself at home Marc. So tell me, how've you been? Missing your mom?" "I guess so. But she won't be gone that long, not long enough for me to miss her I'm sure." I said with a shrug. "Yeah, I guess she'll be back in about another month or so eh? How's your dad handling it?" He said this with what I could make out as a wry smile on his face. "Steve giving him a hand?" "Um... yeah. Steve's good with Kurt, and he usually can get Paul to stay still. He's a good guy." He kept on smiling. "What about you? Do you like him?" I worked myself to not raise an eyebrow at that question. The way he asked it sounded like he was asking something else. Only my imagination maybe? "He's an alright guy. I don't know him that well though. I don't really need a nanny." I said insistently. He laughed. "Well what about Brandon, what do you think of him?" He said, brushing the 5 O'clock shadow that dusted his face. I noticed that the shadow went down his neck and past his shirt collar. He was wearing a blue plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. I noticed his arms were hairy too, and must've been twice as wide as mine. It was then that I started to notice him more than I had in the past. Mr. Daughtry was tall, about 6'2", a few inches shorter than my dad who was 6'4". But he had longer, wavy, dirty blonde hair that reached past his neck, but not touching his elbows. He had a square face with a sharp chin that dimpled at the end. A high nose and thick eyebrows, and the bluest eyes I had ever seen. He had wide framed shoulders which coupled with what I could see of his hairy forearms showed that this guy worked out. I must've been let my mind wonder because Mr. Daughtry was waving his hands in front, rousing me from my reverie. "I'm sorry, what?" I did it again, letting myself get lost in thought. He chuckled and gave me a wry smile. "I was asking what you thought of Brandon." "You know about Brandon?" I asked surprised. Did my dad tell him? I thought it was supposed to be a secret so mom would never know. He always left through the rear entrance of the house, and out of the rear garage every time he went somewhere. He gave me a searching look. "Yeah. Don't worry about it, your dad introduced me to him. Don't worry, Mrs. Daughtry doesn't know. She'd probably tell your mom in a heartbeat." He winked. "So what do you think of him?" "Brandon?" I frowned. "He's alright I guess. I don't know him very well though. We don't talk much." "Mmmm..." was all he said while stroking his chin. "Well he's a good guy. Kurt certainly seems to like him as much as Steve. You could try to get to know him better" That surprised me. Around the house I never saw Brandon interact all that much with Brandon enough to like him the way Mr. Daughtry said. I said as much to him. But before he could respond Cooper burst into the room in a run. "Shit, sorry Marc!" He wheezed. His dad whacked him in the back of the next and said something about watching his mouth. "Sorry Dad. But yeah, I know I said we'd hang out today but I can't. Mom's pretty mad at me and she's making me clean my room." "You wouldn't have to if you'd done it before!" She called from somewhere upstairs. The woman had ears like a hawk. Cooper mumbled something dark and unintelligible under his breath before going on, "we'll hang out tomorrow instead okay? I've been up the whole morning cleaning, but apparently shoving stuff under my bed and in my closet doesn't count as cleaning. So she had me organize them in piles that I'm supposed to put in storage, put in the closet, or throw away." He frowned. "I don't think I'll have time to play today. She said she'd take my SuperStation3 away!" "The sooner you get it done the sooner you'd be able to play." She called again from upstairs. "Sorry Marc, but I'm going to have that kid clean his room until it's spotless!" I couldn't help but grimace with Cooper before he shrugged his shoulders at me after a quick goodbye and ran upstairs. "Guess I'll just go home then." I said standing up. "Here, why don't I walk you home?" He said standing up too. "Just hang on a second, I'm going to go grab something before we go." He had left before I got the chance to tell him that I was perfectly capable of going home by myself. I mean it was only a block away... But just as quickly, he was back and was calling upstairs that he was going to the store to pick up a few things. I didn't hear the answer from upstairs before he had ushered me out of the house and into his car. The drive back was a short one. As I expected it would be. We didn't even get the chance to talk. I stepped out of the car once we had parked in our driveway and started walking towards the door. "Um, thanks for the ride Mr. Daughtry." I said with one hand in my pocket and waved with the other. "Actually, I was wondering if I could have a drink inside for a bit? I'm kinda thirsty. Besides, it'd give us time to talk. You've been friends with my kid for a long while now and we haven't really talked." He said, already strolling to the front door. He didn't seem to want to go, I could tell that much. I just nodded my head and shrugged my shoulders then went past him to unlock the door. "What kind of drink do you want Mr. Daughtry?" I asked as he followed me to the kitchen. "Whatever beer your dad's got is fine." I handed him the first thing I saw inside the fridge. He drank it happily enough it seems. I poured myself a glass of milk while I was here. For a moment from the corner of my eye I thought I saw him grin roguishly down at me, but when I turned to look at him he was taking a sip of his beer. We talked for a while, he asked me questions about sports, life, school, and even how my Grandpa and my mom were doing. But in fifteen minutes time it seemed that our conversation material was already exhausted. I never could hold very long conversations, let alone with an adult. The entire time we talked I noticed that he eyed me up and down, appraisingly it seemed to me. There was silence for a minute while he kept talking to me and took one last gulp of his beer. I had already finished my glass of milk a while back. "I saw you, you know." He said with his arms crossed. I fidgeted. "I'm sorry?" He gave me that wry, cocky smile again. "Out on the street. I saw you shove your hand down your shorts, looked at your fingers for a bit, and then licked and sucked them clean." I forced my eyes not to widen, or display any sort of emotion at all. "I don't know what you mean." He laughed. "You're pretty bold kid. Doing it out in public and all. Like father like son I guess." "What do you mean?" I couldn't help myself ask, the curiosity burning in my eyes. He put the empty glass of beer in the counter and lean back casually, and with his right hand began caressing his crotch. I couldn't help but look. He chuckled. "Yeah, I saw the way you looked at me in the house too. And the look you made when I asked you about Brandon. You know don't you kid?" "Know what?" I grimaced at his crotch. I saw an indent forming on his jean fronts, the form of a cock getting hard. He kept on stroking. "Come on kid. Admit it. Brandon told me that he thought he heard someone up the stairs one night. But he didn't know who it was. That was you wasn't it?" He smiled toothily. "Wanna know about your daddy?" Before thinking, I nodded. I tore my eyes away from my crotch and saw him smiling mischievously. "Well, if you're a good boy I'm going to tell you some things. But you're going to have to do something for me first." "What?" I asked warily. "Come here and give me your hand." He motioned with his head. Hesitantly I took a step closer. My heart was racing, my palms became sweaty, and I couldn't help but feel a tightness in my briefs. I stopped after the second step and began considering what I was doing. But before I finished thinking he had reached forward, grabbed my arm and pulled me towards him, not roughly, but enough that I moved easily. "Now take your hand, and caress my bulge. Go on now boy." He said. I stared at his bulge. I could see it straining against his pants. At this distance, I could smell him too. It was a musky scent mixed with soap. I couldn't help but breathe in a lungful of it. My head was swimming. I tried to keep a tight reign over my actions, but while I was trying to gather myself together, I found that I had already extended my hand and was stroking the bulge that formed in his pants. He let out a moan. "Yeah. What do you say kid?" He said, the corner of his lip twisted in a cocky grin. "It's big." I muttered, still rubbing it gently. "Unzip the fly and pull out my cock." He said in a commanding voice. My head was swimming, I didn't think that could happen anymore. The feel of his bulge, the scent of his skin, they were all hypnotic. My mind was a slush of ideas, half formed and unfinished, overwhelmed only by a desire to do as this man says. I began fumbling with his zipper, especially pulling it down carefully. When I did, I inserted my hand into his pants and felt for his cock. I heard a rumbling sound coming from his throat. I felt that he was wearing boxer briefs. It took me a while to find the cock slip and put my hand through it. I felt his dick. Very warm in my hand. Hard. Large. I tried to get the whole thing around my hand, but I found it difficult. I almost thought I could smell it. After a little struggling, all the while Mr. Daughtry never raised a hand to help me, I was able to pull it out in one forceful pull. I lost my grip when it popped out, and when it came out of the zipper I was too close and it slapped my face. He laughed at that. I looked up at him and saw him smiling and sneering all at once. I could see the lust in his eyes. See him barring his teeth. I saw his hand moving and it began to caress my head, stroking my hair. I turned my attention back to the cock, his eyes a command that I couldn't resist. I reached up with both hands, the head of his dick a few inches away from my face. I had automatically stepped back when it slapped me in the face. I could smell it now. A strong musky scent, different from the musk that came out of his skin from anywhere else but his crotch. It was a bit tangy, and wholly exotic. I wound my fingers around his cock and found that it was too large for me to get my fingers around it. I think it was called heft. Studying it for a while, just caressing the soft skin with my hands, I began to marvel at how large it looked. It must have been around 7 inches long, but the girth. The girth could fit more than three of my slender fingers. He was uncut. When I pulled back the skin, a fresh wave of that alluring musk overcame my senses. When I did that I saw a trickle of pre-cum seep through his piss slit. "Hold out your tongue." He said in a breathy whisper. I did as I was told, extending my tongue directly underneath the piss slit. I had to stop looking at the tip of his cock at the risk of becoming cross-eyed, instead I looked up into his eyes. I felt him caress my cheeks tenderly, and then felt something touch my outstretched tongue. I felt it ooze slowly down, coating my tongue, and I tasted something sticky and salty at the same time. I closed my mouth and moved the liquid around my mouth before swallowing it. Somehow the taste aroused me even more. Shortly after I opened my mouth again, and instinctively I moved closer to take the head of his cock into my mouth. I heard him moan. With my mouth around the head I began to suck while at the same time play with the head with my tongue, or at least try to. I felt his hands at the back of my head, pulling it, pushing his cock deeper into my mouth. But it was too large and too wide that I could not even take a quarter of it. He didn't force me and I kept sucking, working hard to avoid touching the skin with my teeth. Just sucking gingerly on what I could fit on my mouth, jacking the rest with my hands as best as I could. I was guided by lust, purely instinctual. I could taste more of the pre cum land on my tongue, and every time I automatically swallowed. The saltiness and the stickiness was not unpleasant. I found myself wanting more of it. I was lost in lust. I could not tell you the things that crossed my mind at that moment, except for the desires that consumed every fibre of my being. At that moment those fibres desired his cock, his scent, his taste. Here I was crouched down on the floor in the kitchen, taking my best friend's dad's cock in my mouth. I loved the softness of his skin on my tongue, as much as the hardness of his cock filling my mouth. Occasionally I would have a hard time breathing, stopping occasionally to breathe in through my nose after having found that I held my breathe when I sucked. Sometimes he had shoved too much in my mouth and I chocked and sputtered, but he never relented, neither did I. His cock never left my mouth. Eventually it became a rhythm, my head bobbing, my mouth sucking as much as I could take of him. Shortly after, I didn't know how long, I had stopped paying attention long before, he began to pant harder. Then his hands fisted a fistful of my hair, and I felt him fill my mouth. "Swallow it." He whispered the command with a hoarse voice. "Drink it." I did as I was told, or at least tried too. There was so much... too much... Without thinking, as his load filled my mouth, I swallowed. I felt the stickiness on my tongue, a stickiness that was thicker and richer than his pre cum. There was so much that I occasionally coughed and some dribbled out of my mouth, trying hard to keep his cock in my mouth. I probably would not have been able to take it out as he was still gripping my hair tightly. Then the stream began to slow, while I kept swallowing. I could feel wetness on my chin and neck, knowing it was the saliva and cum that had dribbled down my mouth. I kept swallowing, drinking him in, I could feel the thick liquid oozing down my throat. I drank his cum until he had stopped convulsing and loosened his grip on my hair. He eased himself backwards, taking his cock out of my mouth. He was looking down on me with a satisfied smile. He reached over with a finger, and with it scooped up some of the cum that had dripped out, and then place his finger inside my mouth. I began to suck on it greedily, still lost in lust. He chuckled. "Good boy." He said. "Good boy." I couldn't stop looking at him, at his smiling figure. He reminded me of my father. My groin stirred at that thought. He laughed now. "I'll return the favour soon buddy. For now, I gotta go. But you're pretty good. A natural, just like your dad." He said with a wink. Even in my erotic haze, I caught that. I tried to gather my wits about me, but he was already tucking his dick back into his pants, and zipping up, then heading out of the kitchen. I followed him wordlessly, my own cock still stiff in my pants, my brain buzzing with energy. Before heading out of the door he turned around. "Oh, almost forgot. Here. Go take a look at what's inside. Might help you talk with your dad. He'd like that." He threw a small thing into the air, and I barely caught it with my fingers before it fell to the ground. "Might want to take a look at that before taking care of yourself." He gave me one last smirk and headed out the door. I looked down into my hands and found that he had given me a small rectangular shaped object, it was dark blue. It was a USB. He had given me a memory stick. The haze had slowly began to dissipate, but I was still aroused. I jogged quickly into my room and turned on my computer. I almost jumped out of my chair in impatience while waiting for the screen to load. I had gotten it just recently. A birthday present, so I wouldn't have to use the family computer in the living room, or my parent's computer in their room. When it finally finished loading, I shoved the memory stick into a USB port and opened the drive. There were folders here, with different names, but I clicked on the one with my dad's name, "Joe stuff". There were pictures and videos, about twenty of the first, and three of the latter. I clicked the first picture. It was a picture of my dad half naked. He still had hair on his chest and scruff on his face. The nipple rings weren't there yet. I clicked the next one and found that he was wearing less and was now in his white jock strap. Click. Click. Click. A picture of him turned around, showing his ass. A picture of him with a large bulge on his jock strap, a hand cupping where his balls would be. A picture of him sitting on a couch, the tip of his cock peeking out. A picture of him completely naked, his dick standing at attention. It seemed big to me. I thought that it probably reached his navel. Click. Click. Click. More pictures of him jacking. Then there were pictures of him not alone. There was someone else there. It was Steve and he was standing in front of dad. I always thought that Steve seemed thin, especially since he liked to wear loose shirts. But in these pictures I saw that he had biceps, and pecs that stood out. His abs were well defined, and there was a dusting of hair that led from his navel to his crotch. He was naked too, his cock standing straight ahead. He was uncut, his cock head hiding underneath its hood. He had low hanging balls that had a light dusting of light blonde hair, the same as his treasure trail, but lighter than the hair on his head. His cock seemed large and hefty, although it didn't seem to be as large or as hefty as my dad's. The next pictures showed him kneeling in front of my dad. More pictures showed him taking my dad's cock in his mouth. I was caressing my own cock with one hand, while clicking through the pictures with the others. The next few pictures showed him at various points while sucking my dad. The penultimate one showed Steve hovering his ass over my dad's upraised cock. The last one showed my dad's cock having disappeared inside Steve's ass, a look of pure ecstasy on his face. I clicked on the very first video. It was long, about ten minutes long. It was in black and white, and showed a living room where two people were talking. I recognized it as the living room downstairs in between the two basement rooms. The two men were on the leather couch, and they were talking and laughing. I increased the volume and heard a high buzz in the background, but I also heard their voices. I already could tell that it was my dad and Steve talking. Talking and laughing. They were talking about sports, work, women, sports, and work. This went on for a while until near the end, in the last few minutes of the clip. I had skipped a few minutes in between guessing that there wasn't much there. I made a mental note to listen to the conversations later. But the last two minutes, were different. It seemed that the topic had talked to sex, and about first times. I saw that Steve had a hand on my dad's leg while they chatted, absently caressing. Then there was a silence and a chuckling. Steve was looking at the floor. My dad raised his right hand and cupped the back of Steve's head, making him turn. Then he leaned in and kissed him, his other hand resting on Steve's thigh. I could hear their lips smacking, their moaning. They kissed for a while, and passionately until my dad pulled Steve over to straddle him. The video ended there. I opened the next video. It was them again, in the same place. Just talking and laughing, but dressed differently. I fast forwarded the video, watching any changes, my hand still stroking my cock. Then half-way through I saw it. Steve got up and kneeled down in front of my dad. He began to unzip my dad's pants, and then took out his cock and then took it into his mouth. I could see Steve's head bobbing up and down. My dad's had his head tilted back, his eye's closed, his mouth half open in pleasure. Turning up the volume I could hear the sucking and the slurping, and my dad's moans. I fast forwarded once more. Eventually Steve took off his clothes, and my dad took his off too. They were both standing, holding each other, kissing and caressing each other's bodies. Steve was a head shorter than my dad, his hands jacking my dad's cock. Then Steve turned around and bent over. I didn't notice that my dad was holding something in his hand, a bottle. He squeezed some onto his hand, and knelt down behind Steve. He seemed to have rubbed whatever it was into Steve's ass, and then put some into his own cock. Then I saw it. The look of lust in both of their faces. My dad setting aside the bottle, using one hand to grip Steve's waist, the other to aim his cock. And I saw his hips move forward, and heard Steve moaned out load. My dad was fucking him. I heard laughing down below, somebody squealing. It was Kurt. They were home. I hastily turned off the speakers, closed the video window, and yanked out the memory stick. I moved quickly to my bed and inserted the USB into a one of the steel railings that supported the mattress underneath. I calmed myself before heading down. As much as I could anyway. The buzzing in my head was back, but so where the thoughts. My mind raced ahead of me. How long had Steve and my father been having sex? What were they to each other? And how does Brandon factor into this? The questions and theories filled my mind, but I forced myself to push them aside and went downstairs to greet my family. So many questions. How did this begin? Joe's Perspective (the Dad): Part I Elle, my wife, was leaving for two whole months. Of course she had a good reason to. Jimmy was a stubborn, old bastard. The guy didn't want to leave his house, didn't want to sell the place. I could understand why, he was proud of that house; proud that he had built it himself and of the memories he had built in it. So Elle and I didn't want him to sell the place either, we just wanted him to live with us. The thought of selling the house didn't even cross our minds, on the contrary we actually thought of keeping and preserving it. We would hire somebody to come in once a week to check the place out, and then we'd use the place as a vacation spot every summer or during Christmas, depending on what we'd feel like. I actually love the east coast, so wouldn't have minded doing just that, or hell even moving there. But Elle was really against the latter. I had just gotten a promotion, and with it a significant raise. Close to six figures... if you rounded up. Elle was very happy about that, but I was willing to give it up for her dad. I tried convincing her that I wouldn't have trouble getting a job in the east coast, and not only would we be closer to her dad, but we'd be moving into a smaller town which I thought would be a better environment for the kids. But Elle's stubborn. As stubborn as her dad really, but she adamantly denies it. She apparently didn't want to leave her restaurant either which she co-owns with her college best friend. Owning a restaurant had been her dream, and she was ecstatic when it opened ten years ago, and is happy that it had lasted so long. She refused to give up the fruits of her hard work, even for her father. Not that that should be taken negatively. Her best friend and business partner, Gabriella, was quite fine with the arrangement. Especially since most of the work Elle needed to do could be done from the comfort of her father's home. At least as long as she had internet access and a fax machine. When I brought up moving the family closer to him, Jimmy got pretty pissed off and started raving and ranting about the irresponsibility of it, and how it's foolish to abandon the fruits of our labour for a sickly old man. He didn't want to live with us and he didn't want us to live with him. It was a frustrating impasse, but Elle refused to abandon him too. She wanted to stay with Jimmy for half a year to help him with everything he needs while the rest of us stayed in the west. But Jimmy argued his way down to just two months. The only reason Elle relented for a shorter span of time was because apparently Jimmy faked a heart attack. He just started gasping for air, clutching his chest, and moaning out load in the most feeble voice he could manage before "collapsing" on the floor. After my wife was appropriately frightened (see: scared shitless and was hysterically calling for an ambulance), he miraculously got better. He threatened to do that enough to make her life a living hell that she finally relented. He loved us, and we loved him. Doesn't change the fact that he's an asshole. That was how, after lengthy discussions (i.e. arguments), Elle ended up staying with him for two months. Then he'd be coming down for Christmas shortly after, and Elle would come back home for two more months, before heading back out there again for another two. It would be a continuous cycle of two months here and two months there. We didn't spare any expense for his care and hired a live in nurse to take care of him, and a (very expensive, at least I thought so) maid to help with the upkeep. A few weeks before Elle left for her father's, the two of us decided to hire a live-in nanny to help take care of the kids. In fact it was she who insisted on it, especially after my promotion and with her having to go to the other side of the country for two months every two months of the year. We went through a throng of applicants, many of whom Elle, I swear it, turned down at first sight. Many she believed didn't have enough of the proper qualifications to take care of children. Some she just treated with unusually obstinate suspicion (and they all happened to be blonde and buxom). Only two did she consider. One was a very experienced and charismatic, who was getting on in years, East Asian woman who had experience not only as a nanny, but as a live-in caretaker, had a Nursing degree (with considerable experience), was an experienced cook, and could speak four different languages, including French. The other was Steve. My eyes almost jumped out of their sockets when Steve walked in through the door. Steve had just finished his Bachelor's degree in Developmental and Child Psychology from one of the city's prominent universities. He was taking a year off for a break in his studies to just work before starting on the Master's program. He was first aid certified, had his own car (which he was willing to child proof), and was the middle child of seven kids and therefore apparently knew how to handle young boys, including how to cook and clean. He had exceptional references, emphasized that he had the stamina to keep up with hyperactive children, and practically begged for the experience to work with our kids. That and apparently he needed a place to stay in, and with the live-in perks that came with the job, he really wanted it. At least that's what it was on the surface. That is to say that's what he said in front of my wife. Steve is tall, and he is quite fit. He's 6'2" and about 190 lbs, and was ripped like a marine. He had a hairless chest, except for a treasure trail that ran down his navel to his crotch. He liked to wind his arms all the way around you when he's kissing you, hugging you tight, grinding his crotch to yours. His cock was about seven inches long, uncut, and had a deep red cock head when fully aroused. He trims his pubic hair, but doesn't shave. He loved to give head and eat cum, and loved cum swapping even more. He was versatile, he loved to get fucked as much as he loved to fuck. He had amazing muscular legs, and had the best balance of salty-sweet pre cum that just oozes out of his cock tip. He likes to suck on nipples and lick arm pits, he liked to get rimmed, and just loved sex in general. I should know, I've had first hand experience with him. I had told him, you see. I had told him about the possibility that my family might move, that my wife was going to be leaving for a few months during the year instead, and then how we were looking for a nanny for the kids. Actually it was more me bitching about the nanny- interview process. He was just a casual fuck buddy, my de- stress buddy. We had met at a gym downtown some years back when he was still an undergrad, and I was just curious. It took years before we were finally able to build something up past the point of amicable camaraderie, became comfortable enough to go beyond the occasional chat and spotting in the gym, to hanging out outside, to going back to a motel to explore each other for the first time, to going to his apartment a few times a month to fuck, then more, then once a week. Those years were a nasty time for me. I was wracked with guilt and shame, and confusion. I was at my most selfish, even now, and at my most callous. It was the point in my life that I had decided to live different lives in one lifetime, intent on my own happiness and satisfaction. It just involved a happy family with a loving wife, and a male lover on the side. The selfish desire to keep both overwhelmed my good sense. My libido made my decisions as much as my head. After his interview I had met up with him later on in his apartment and the two of us argued heatedly. I was furious that he would show himself in front of my family. He had his own arguments that justified what he had done, which just brought around more arguments from me until we had ended up screaming and threatening each other for a few hours in his apartment. That evening, things ended up with him fucking me for the first time. I remember it vividly. I was still at his apartment when Elle called. Steve had stalked off to the bathroom to try and cool off, leaving me glowering at nothing in particular in his bedroom. I talked to Elle. She was asking where I was. I told her a lie. We chatted about things that I could no longer remember. What I could remember was Steve's hands coming from behind him, winding around my body. I could remember letting him pull me into his embrace, my back to his chest. I remember his strong hands pressed tight on my body, moving slowly, searching, unbuttoning, moving under cloth, touching skin... stroking. I remember my wife's voice on the phone, talking, me clearing my throat, working not to moan, then muttering some sort of assent. I remember Steve breathing on my neck, his pelvis thrusting forward, his crotch grinding into my ass, and me pushing my ass back to meet his thrusts. I remembered feeling the hardness of his crotch through the cloth, his warm hands caressing my skin, his tongue licking my neck. My wife was talking about the kids, I was working hard not to make any sexually gratified sounds, now and then murmuring half-responses and assents, asking questions about the kids and about her. I don't know how it had happened but the next thing I remembered was becoming completely undressed except for my socks, lying on my stomach on his bed, my wife laughing on the phone that I held in my ears. I feigned laughter in turn while Steve stuck a tongue into my ass along with a finger. I remember something cool being spread onto my ass, more fingers going into me, stretching me, me biting down on the bed covers, covering the mouth piece of the phone, while my wife chatted about Marc, my beautiful son Marc. I had said his name, I remember my wife saying 'yes' and repeating his name, and I remember Steve leaning down on my back to whisper in my ear, "thinking about your boy daddy? Thinking about Marc?", while he thrusts more fingers into my ass. I had said yes. At that time I didn't know why I said yes. Or did I? I really was thinking about Marc. But not in a sexual way, at least I didn't think so. But the heat that radiated from Steve, his scent, his weight on my back, new thoughts began to cross my mind, images of Steve, of me, of my son Marc, sometimes of just my son and me, and at times just my son, naked as the day we were born. I began to wonder about the feel of skin on skin, of scent, of heat. "Daddy ready to get fucked?" Steve had breathed into my other ear, while my wife was telling me about her day into the other. I knew what was coming then, so I bit down on the pillow, taking as much of it into my mouth, as Steve thrust in. I heard my wife laughing. I held on tight, covering, the receiver on the phone, hoping that Elle couldn't hear my grunts and moans at the first thrust. Hoping that she didn't hear Steve say "fuck" and "tight" at the first thrust. That painful first thrust. But he was gentle. He had taken his time stretching me first, and now took his time letting me adjust. I could feel all of him inside of me. I could feel his cock twitching. He had wound his arms under my armpits, across my chest, and clutched onto my shoulders, his chest pressing down on my back, his mouth nibbling my ear, his cock resting inside me, still twitching. Elle said that she had to go, said something about me coming home soon, something about dinner, then a goodbye which I returned. Then I hung up. Then came a long thrust. Of a cock moving out of my ass then abruptly being plunged back in. At that the pillow left my mouth and I moaned out load, said an expletive. Steve clutched me tighter, his chest pressing down on my back, his hands wound around my body, holding my shoulders, his legs on either side of mine, and his pelvis thrusting his cock in and out of my ass. With each thrust I cried out, a mingle of pain and pleasure, and as time passed, increasingly pleasure. I began to plead, eventually. Crying out for Steve to fuck me harder, and faster, and deeper, crying out for more of him inside of me. The feeling was incredible, his cock kept on touching something inside of me that shot darts of pleasure from the pit of my stomach and outward towards the rest of my body. My mind raced, my moans became louder, sometimes pitched higher, my body occasionally shuddered, my hands reaching back for his head, his hair, his mouth. I felt his tongue on my neck, felt his teeth, his lips, then on my jaw, and then on my own lips, his tongue darting in between touching my own tongue. He kissed me passionately, and I returned the passion lustfully, my tongue wrestling with his. He kept on thrusting while I kept on pushing my ass back. Our torsos began to rise from the bed, his fucking and my ass backing up to meet his thrusts moved us up until we were kneeling on the bed, him still clutching me and fucking, our mouths still connected. "Fuck me." I breathed. "Fuck me Steve, oh fuck. Fuck me harder, please." "Ever thought of your kids Joe? Ever thought of them while we're fucking, cause I do." He began to say. I should have been shocked. But at that moment, in that moment, of ecstasy and overwhelming lust, I merely said yes. And I had meant it. At that moment I only wanted his cock to pump faster and harder into me, to continue feeling his warm skin pressed on mine, for the firm pressure of his arms wound tight around me to last forever. His voice in my ear and what he said, surprisingly added to the eroticism of the moment. "When I get the job, you know what I'm going to do? I'm going to feed your kids my cum. What do you think about that? I'm going to let Kurt taste my load. He's too young and too small to do anything other than let him eat my load, but he'd like that I think. It'll be like milk. Just from me. Maybe he could even just lick my cock head a few times, his mouth is probably too small to suck me. You would watch. Watch as I feed your son my load. What do you think?" He said that last with a fiercer thrust, a harder fuck, a longer and deeper plunge. All I could do was moan. I saw the image in my mind, saw what he had described clearly. Imagined Steve pouring down a thick load of cum down my son's open and willing mouth, and then I came. I came hard, as much as I had ever had. Thinking of Steve. Thinking of Marc. Thinking of Kurt. Even thinking of Paul. My sons. I thought I heard Steve say something along the lines of "fuck, daddy likes that" before his thrusting became fiercer and shorter. Then I felt him shudder and cum, his load filling my ass. I could feel a warm sensation spread inside my ass, could feel liquid trickling out my ass and down my thigh. Steve still kept on thrusting, slowly, and seemingly meaningfully. I collapsed onto the bed while Steve collapsed on top of me. I muttered an obscenity. Steve repeated said obscenity. We both laughed. Mine was half hearted. My mind still revelled in post sex glow, but my critical thinking was slowly coming back to me, and the memories of what I had done with my wife on the phone, with what I had gotten off to, what Steve had said, slowly trickled down into my consciousness. I didn't know what to say. Steve apparently did. "You came when I started talking about feeding your youngest kid my cum. You're kinkier than I thought Joe." He laughed in my neck. I felt his whole body shudder. His cum continued to leak out of my ass. "Don't." Was all I said. He just laughed. "You don't sound very convincing you know." Even if I couldn't see his expression, his face buried in my neck, I knew that he was smiling mischievously. He nipped at my skin with his teeth, a playful nip that didn't break the skin. "You're wife's gonna hire me. She loves me. Just you wait. Then I'm going to do it. Feed Kurt my cum. The first time, you're going to do it for me. You're going to suck my cock in front of Kurt, then I'll cum in a glass. You're going to drink some of it, then feed the rest to your son." He shifted, got up, and moved towards the washroom. He turned around at the door to look at me laying down on the bed. I didn't feel the shock on my face. I saw him smile and chuckle before going in. The shock on my face wasn't because of what he had said, more so than because I knew with absolute certainty that that's what was going to happen. Questions, Comments, Rants, Raves: azberan@hotmail.com Thanks for the emails. P.S. In response to something, no. The kids were not and are not drugged. *End* But thanks for the email, and hope you enjoy the rest. :)