Date: Sun, 6 Apr 2014 16:40:21 -0700 (PDT) From: Dave Krenshaw Subject: My Son Austin and Secrets of Grant Grove: Installment 1 My Son Austin and Secrets of Grant Grove: Installment 1 by Dave Krenshaw: davekrenshaw@yahoo.com If you are a minor, meaning you have not attained the age of majority, i.e.: "legal age", for the jurisdiction in which you reside, or material of this nature is illegal in the same, please close the window in which you are reading this disclaimer or, as necessary, the computer browser you are using, immediately. This story is entirely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents portrayed in such work are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, that you yourself have knowledge of is entirely coincidental. Also, please keep in mind that nothing in this story is being presented with the intent of condoning or promoting unsafe sexual practices of any kind whatsoever. All comments as to this story are greatly appreciated: Please send the same to me at: davekrenshaw@yahoo.com (Please put the title of this story in the subject line of your email, so that I will know that your email is not any type of commercial solicitation); and please be sure to state in your email if a reply from me is welcome. Please, if at all possible for you to do so, certainly donate to Nifty via the following: http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html . I moved here about six years ago in order to make a fresh start of things, so to speak; and take full advantage of a juicy job promotion opportunity in the corporate world. To be frank, when I first came out here to live, I was far from enamored with the "charms" of Grant Grove, this quiet but tony and somewhat humdrum suburb nestled in the heart of Nebraska but, evidently, not in direct proxmimity to any place one likely ever heard of. Yet, over time, I came to realize that Grant Grove had its pluses afer all; and, yes, installing the swimming pool in the backyard, at my fourteen-year-old son Austin's urging, turned out to be a great asset, indeed, in more ways than one. Well, to be frank, while it is NOT something that I go around advertising, I have been contentedly carrying on a sexual relationship with my son since he was nine years of age: It all began on a night when he had had a few of his little classmates over for a sleepover in our home. We are in many ways living our lives as husband and wife, well, AT LEAST behind closed doors I should say. I do not expect ALL to approve of or even understand the relationship I share with my son. I love my son; and he loves me, as far I know anyhow, in the same way. Besides, Grant Grove is just full of a rich but sordid history marked by tawdry tales and salacious secrets; and, frankly, those here who in public hold themseleves out as high and moral are in truth far from pure as snow. I am Jayse Layne, though my legal name is Jayson David Layne, Jr.; and I am an accountant for a worldwide media company who also does returns for locals during tax season to help cover expenses. I am forty-four; and, still a bit on the muscular side, my brawn a residual of my days of yore playing on the basketball team in my undergrad. With light-brown hair slightly tinged with gray at the temples and greenish-blue eyes, I am still a full five-feet-ten-inches tall; and have a lightly hair chest and mildy-defined pecs complimented by an attractive treasure trail of hair extending down to my pubes. My son Austin is the spitting image, so to speak, of his mom, my beloved, who suddenly passed away presumably from a congenital heart defect and about one year before the relocation to Grant Grove. He has wavy sandy-blonde hair and sparkling marine-blue eyes, a few freckles on his cheeks, and adorable dimples. He competes on the soccer team in school; and, as a result, has muscular legs. His complexion is milky-white; and compliments his smooth baby-soft silky skin all over and his modestly-but-well-enough-defined pecs: He is about five-feet-four inches tall; and weighs one hundred pounds. The best thing about his physique is that he sports one rockin' rear: I mean he has buns so plump, so soft, so inviting, and so jiggly: One could even perhaps bounce a quarter off of those. After a hard day's work full of its usual chaos, I arrived home a bit tapped, to say the least; and, after a light early dinner, retired for the night; and was now lounging in the comfort of my king-sized bed with its maroon modern canopy and below a mirrored ceiling. I must have dozed off even sooner than I had expected, as I was awakened by a familiar tug of the corner of the quilt. "Austin?!" "Yeah, Dad." "You're okay?" "VERY okay, Dad." "THAT goes without saying!," I crooned, chuckling in reply. Squinting a bit while still in a state of half-slumber, I could make out little more than the sexy silhouette of my fully nude son highlighted just a tad by a hint of moonlight escaping through a slit between the wine-colored drapes. Licking my lips in anticipation, I wanted nothing more than to hold his plush baby-soft body in my tender, loving masculine arms. "I am really late." "As USUAL, now get that sweet ass of yours in bed already, pronto THAT IS, where it BELONGS!" Austin knew darned well what I meant; and, without skipping a beat, hightailed his keester right into what is OUR bed; and was once again in my loving arms, as I wish him to be. Well, for those wondering, he does have his own room, but in many ways the same is just for show: He has not slept as much as a wink THERE for the LONGEST time. I began caressing Austin's silky chest all over while spooning him. Upon lowering my hands to his hips, I felt the familiar leather band of his jock-strap. "Now, Austin, we have been through this one hundred times. What happens to young lads who wear sexy jock-straps teasingly to bed?" Austin began to giggle uncontrollably, the sound of his laughter was turning me on even more than I already was and was getting my alrady-hard eight-inch cut cock very much close to rock-hard. Catching his breath, he blurted out: "They GET IT up the rear!!!" "Right as rain, Austin, my dear.," I growled. I quickly slid aside the vertical part of the jock-strap not quite fully covering the crease between his buns; and pressed my cock right in the crease and directy against his awaiting pink-pucker love hole. "You want me, Austin?" "I...uh...I...." "Say it! Say it nice and loud, son." "I do, I want you, I DO want you,...uhm...Dad!!!!"