Date: Thu, 01 Jan 2004 00:02:47 -0500 From: Eric L Subject: My Son's Sexuality - Chapter 1 MY SON'S SEXUALITY - Chapter 1 (of 6 est.) *** ADULT FICTION *** A story of male-male ('gay') sex and incest ***OVER 18 ONLY!*** by Eric L. Email, send to Eric: eric_kevin_story@hotmail.com THIS STORY IS ENTIRELY UNTRUE AND FOR ENTERTAINMENT PURPOSES ONLY. It does not represent my actions or anyone else's. I claim a right to have fantasies that I never did and will never do, and to have fun with them and share them with others like-minded, for entertaining reading and feedback. --Eric L. The incest PLANNED (for now): (a) Brother-Brother, (b) Dad-Son, (c) Cousin-Cousin, (d) maybe Dad-Dad, (e) Son-Friend, and (f) maybe Uncle-Nephew. (Characters' age range: 12 and up, but mostly 15 and up.) _________________________________________________________________ MY SON'S SEXUALITY - Chapter 1 IF UNDER LEGAL AGE, DO NOT READ! ```````````````````````````````` When Nancy left me after a marriage of nine years, I felt a big weight of responsibility for raising my younger son alone. My older boy, Eric, ended up going with his mom, so Kevin and I were the only two members of our little household. Kevin was 8 years old at the time his mother left, and was still the little boy that daddy loved to hug. Actually, neither Kevin nor his older brother, Eric ever lost that status, but at that point, it seemed Kevin would never grow up--or maybe I hoped he wouldn't and was blind to that. Those years were filled with great times, both at home and away. I love my sons with all my heart, but of course at that time, Kevin was very special because he was with me. I wished Eric could be with the two of us and complete our family as I saw it. As the years went by, that 'weight of responsibility' became a time of great fun and appreciation for the privilege of having a boy such as Kevin to be my son. Besides my earlier passion for women, which was fading fast, I'd always had some interest in males, but of an older age group. Boys nine, ten, eleven, or twelve, were not in the arena of sexuality for me--they were just little kids to be cuddled, fed, and put to bed early. Yes, there were a few exceptions for taller, more mature boys in the lower ages, down to about 13, but these were rare. I became interested when an intelligent, nice-looking boy got to the age of 15, 16, or 17. Then he started to become stimulating to look at. I sometimes smiled and nodded at a good-looking teenager--whose age appeared to be somewhere between 15 and 19 years old. I'm sure I mistook some kids in their 20s for teenagers. Then again, 20 to 25 also looked good to me. With today's informed kids, it's possible some of them knew that I was watching and drooling after them. But in my need to avoid giving bad feelings to others, I hoped that most of them had no concept that a 30-something man could find them sexually attractive and find enjoyment in visually admiring their beauty --at least not this 30-something man. If they were aware, I hope they forgave me, and knew I meant no harm--just looking. Some of the boys--young men really--teens or otherwise, smiled and nodded back, which was exciting, satisfying, and frustrating at the same time. At least they acknowledged me. But despite my hidden desires, I could not bring myself to engage sexually with such innocence. I couldn't even bring myself to say 'hello,' unless they said it first. If a young man with a certain type of looks would smile at me or say anything, I went all wobbly in the legs and looked for a seat or at least something to lean on. When that happened, I would get horny and very much want to rush home and masturbate--a process that often had to wait because Kevin was home and awake. Or else I had him with me. Once, a boy about 16 years old got the upper hand on me. Fortunately, I was alone, sitting, quite aroused, having already seen a number of good-looking young men pass by in the crowds. I was glad I was seated when this 16 year-old came along. "David!" the beautiful lad shouted, "How are you?" The boy was caught up in the crowd and was forced to keep walking, which put him out of sight and earshot within moments. I was stunned. My mouth hung open with no sound coming out. This beautiful creature knew my name was David, but I had not a clue who he was. By the time I had composed an intelligent reply, the young man was gone. It was just as well, I would not have known what to do with the mysterious, good-looking lad. It would have been especially embarrassing with his knowledge of my name, and my lack of knowing his. ._._._._._._._._._._._._. At home with Kevin, I often wondered how I would approach teaching him about sex and his own sexuality--a prospective task I found both stimulating and forbidding. I didn't want to be one of those careless or fearful parents that taught a child the 'birds and the bees' after he already knew. Nor did I want to be the type of parent who took away the boy's childhood before his time, so to speak. I went through a thousand thoughts trying to decide what I wanted to teach Kevin. Some people would accuse me of doing the wrong thing, I suppose, but I decided I wanted Kevin to be gay. I didn't want to hurt him or force him in any way, however. This was during an era that seemed to spawn girls and women who hated men to one degree or another, and a time that seemed to promote girls and women, to the detriment or exclusion of boys and men. There were too many males having severe emotional pain over things females were doing or saying to them--something foreign to me and my generation, other than divorce or the occasional lover's quarrel--things I did not want my son to experience. If a woman didn't want a man, so be it. I would not have my son throwing himself at someone or something that would throw him out, in return for his love. The good women were hard to find. The rest of them could go screw themselves, as far as I was concerned. So I felt justified in steering Kevin sexually toward his fellow males. Of course, I was slowly acknowledging my own hidden homosexuality (a little late in life), so I suppose I just subconsciously wanted the company of another gay male--someone to talk with about our unique life-ways and frustrations, regardless of his age--and hoped somehow that Kevin could be that person for me, at least for now. I was informed enough to know that nakedness had a lot to do with being comfortable with your own body, especially at Kevin's age, and I wanted to transmit that comfort to Kevin. I also knew that the process of his being comfortable with his own nakedness had to start with me. I disliked parents who never went naked in front of their kids--just as much as I disapproved of parents who were too-often naked at home. So what was I to do? I wanted Kevin to be free of hang-ups about his body, about being naked, as well as remaining comfortable while seeing me or others naked. But I couldn't imagine myself telling my son, 'Okay, it's time to be naked with daddy.' So I felt I had solved that 'problem' by signing me and Kevin up for memberships at a particular local gym. There, after we finished working out, we would shower naked together with no hint of shyness or shame. Later, I learned that there were many other solutions to the problem, including nudist organizations, but my solution worked. The "Titanium" gym membership was expensive, but I picked this particular gym because in addition to the usual shower room, they had a number of showers that were patterned after the big handicapped-style showers--only larger, with floor to ceiling walls, like a totally separate room. You could use these premium shower stalls only if you had a Titanium membership. It was this large, very private type of shower that Kevin and I always used, so we could talk freely, and be together naked and unashamed. I'm very thankful the shower routine turned out as I'd hoped. But eventually, the time came to go beyond just being comfortable in our nakedness together, so I broke the ice for the next step one day by getting an erection while showering, and smiling at Kevin--just a gentle smile that said I was mildly enjoying myself and not embarrassed. I truly was relaxed and confident doing that. (The doubts came later.) Kevin glanced at my dick, smiled brilliantly, and proceeded to get erect, himself. He didn't say anything at the time, but communicated with his body: He positioned himself face-to-face with me much more often than usual, which told me he was deliberately displaying his erection. In my mind, Kevin was asking for approval, silently saying, 'Hey, dad, how's THIS?' I made sure that my return-smile loudly proclaimed, 'That looks damn fine, Kevin! I'm proud of you, son.' I could not have been more enchanted with him. Now, I wish I'd said the words out loud at the time, but I think my smile was reassuring and approval enough for Kevin. After the third boner-filled shower, I touched my finger to Kevin's erection and asked him if he knew "what this was called." That started a conversation about sex that lasted the next eight showers, if not more--not including conversation time at home, totally away from showering. 'The erection' was the only subject that pried Kevin's mouth open to talk about sex outside the special intimacy of the shower. We talked about causes of an erection, how long they can last, what makes them stiff, what makes them hurt sometimes, etc. I waited patiently (I bit my tongue a hundred times) and was rewarded when Kevin finally asked about what you DO with an erection. That, in itself, caused more boners--his and mine-- than any other single talk. As it happens, Kevin suddenly grew up. My three-foot-five little boy was now five-foot-four--growing fast--a healthy 11-year-old going on 12. I loved running my fingers through his medium- length blonde hair. Both philosophically and sensually, I admired his beautiful good looks--thin but not skinny, big feet, perfect skin, angelic baby face, and flashy blue eyes that often seemed too perfect to be real. And energy to spare. Because, at the ripe old age of eleven, Kevin became so comfortable with the two of us showering naked at the gym, I had a similar shower facility built in my house. It was almost as big as the average spare room, but narrower--about 10 by 7 feet. (Ok, that's about 3.1 by 2.2 metres.) That left lots of comfort room--space between people that made conversation less threatening. I calculated we could have crammed nine people in that huge shower stall if we'd wanted to. Six comfortably. Almost every time either one of us went to shower, Kevin would come to me and ask to shower together. At first, I worried about that, wondering if Kevin was going to extremes, then I realized from his choice of topics, that our shower time together had nothing to do with what could be seen with the eye. It was the talk! Kevin used our shower time to talk about his embarrassing moments, questions, doubts, and sex--things that younger boys (at an age before society's more traitorous inhibitions set in) naturally wanted to talk about with their dads--especially sex. I felt very lucky that my son felt free to do this, that he invited me in with him--and that he found my input valuable or interesting enough to keep coming back for more. The privacy and intimacy of the shower made it a moment special above all others, and that enabled my son to feel more free. Yet I occasionally wondered why, except for 'the erection,' Kevin didn't bring up these topics at other times. I never asked him. Kevin wasn't one to have a lot of questions about his body. When he was younger and he would become erect when the warm water hit his penis, he never seemed to be aware of it. I remember back to the days when I was a little boy and saw my father naked from time to time. I never asked him why his penis was bigger than mine--I guess because everything about my father was bigger than I was at age 6, 8, or 11--so why would his penis be any exception? I assumed Kevin felt the same as I had, back then, because he never asked that question. Not that the subject of penis size didn't come up. "I'm getting bigger," Kevin would say in the shower on occasion-- trying to hold his limp penis to make it stick straight out, and gauging its size compared to mine by staring at each organ and mentally computing the size difference. If he were hard, he'd mention that proudly, although I was watchful and curious enough to know the condition of his body without being told. "They have better food nowadays," I said. "So I expect yours to be bigger than mine when the time comes." He would look at me and smile, as if the whole thing were just a game, and I would smile back at him. But I knew how serious an issue Kevin was raising. At age 11, almost 12, Kevin had already grown noticeably in that department, although he had no body hair that I saw at the time, and his organ, though definitely bigger than a small boy's, was not equal to an adult's. "When's that gonna happen, dad?" "When is what going to happen?" "When's my dick gonna start getting really big?" I was continually impressed that Kevin could ask the questions that would have been too embarrassing for me to ask when I was a boy. "Any time now, Kevin. You'll be twelve in a week. Some boys start puberty at twelve or thirteen, some don't start till they're fourteen or fifteen." We'd had enough sex talks that Kevin was secure in his knowledge of words such as 'puberty.' For all practical purposes, I thought of Kevin as a 12-year-old, despite the fact it would be a few more days before he'd officially be that age. "I think I started already," my boy said proudly, confidently walking up to me--holding his balls in one hand and his penis up out of the way with the other, displaying his little scrotum for me to look at--both of us dripping wet in the shower. "See? I got hair there." He was right. On his little sack of nuts, there was a definite sprinkling of hair. "Yes, you do," I said with a note of pride. Then, Kevin let his dick fall back into place. I noticed, for the first time, a faint patch of hair just above his little rod. "So when's mine gonna be bigger than this thing?" Kevin asked--as he innocently reached out and gave my cock a tug. I smiled immediately--partly out of pride for the fact that my boy had enough confidence in me to ask such a private question, but that he had grown up so far without certain inhibitions, and felt perfectly free to give his dad's penis a friendly pull. "What do you really call it?" Kevin asked, smiling and holding his penis between his fingers, looking down at it. "Well, you've heard me use different names--there's lots of names. I use penis, cock, dick, meat, rod, pole. That's all I can think of, right now." "Pole!" Kevin said laughing. "That makes me think of a telephone pole. I want a big one, but not THAT big." I laughed along with Kevin. "So, which names do YOU like?" "I like dick, penis is fun--cock I don't like as much." "So those are your favorites?" "Yuppers." "But what's your most favorite?" I asked, mimicking the speaking habits of the very young. "Penis, I think--maybe dick," Kevin said, seriously staring at his little pole as if getting lost in it. Meanwhile, my heart was fluttering. The problem was--and this sounds ridiculous to say about a 12-year-old--with Kevin's new hair growth, his ever more mature straightforward attitude toward nakedness and sexual discussions, and his penis having grown noticeably--in my sight, my son suddenly became a sexy young man. I stared at Kevin's face. There, in the bright light of the big shower stall, I spotted a growth of peach fuzz on his red cheeks. Added to the hair I had seen moments before, that was all it took. I imagined what the hair might look like around his little rear-entrance, and in a click, right before my eyes, the transformation took place: Kevin wasn't a little boy any more. I took a deep, excited breath. My son was barely twelve years old--an early developer like his dad, though I had none of Kevin's sleek beauty at his age--yet he was arousing me as strongly as the most beautiful 16 or 17-year-old I had ever seen. How could I let myself feel this way about my own son? How could I stop the feeling? My heart burst with feelings of protectiveness for him--wanting him to be happy. The two feelings should be at odds with each other, I thought, but I felt no conflict. Eventually things changed, and when I got an erection in the shower, Kevin would always say something--and we would laugh. If Kevin got hard, I would compliment him on the size of his penis, and tell him how manly and strong he looked with an erection. He would wave his hardon at me, sometimes slap it against my leg, just for effect--always followed by his youthful and irresistible laugh and expectant smile of approval. It took time for me to realize it, but my son learned a lot from these seemingly offhanded conversations. But this time, Kevin stared, open-mouthed, at my hardening cock. We were at a 90 degree angle to each other. I turned to face him, deliberately staying close. I put my hands protectively on Kevin's shoulders. There was a little step nearby, and I placed Kevin on it, so I wouldn't tower over him so much. As I lifted him, the tip of my penis touched his. I moaned with pleasure. "That felt good, didn't it dad?" Kevin said openly, but with a first-time blush on his face. "Yes, it did." "I liked it too," he said, looking into my eyes for approval-- which I instantly gave with a smile. As the seconds ticked on, I unconsciously pulled Kevin closer, and our upright penises touched full length momentarily, underside to underside, before his fell into my forest of pubic hair, and mine against my son's smooth, hot skin. If there is such a thing as a testosterone high, I believed I was having it--because I felt I had lost control of my actions, similar to the effect of a drunken state. This was accompanied by a sense of reckless abandonment. Something primal and sensual--maybe adolescent--took over my mind and body. I reached my hand down, touching both organs, the large and the small erect penis, squeezing them gently together. I had never touched Kevin like this before, nor had I ever felt such electrical sexual excitement. "Dad, that's so good," Kevin said in a charmingly breathy voice, his knees barely avoiding buckling. Despite my own sexually-induced weak state, I helped my son remain standing by putting my hands under his arms. I was astounded to find hair there--a soft, thin, silky layer of it. "Is it ok?" I asked, afraid that I might be frightening my son, and suddenly feeling that I had violated some unspoken, primitive rule by touching the boy's penis--which in my hand now seemed like a burning coal punishing me for my transgression. "Way ok," Kevin said, uncharacteristically drifting off mentally and vocally. At that point, I had no rational thought. The pangs of pleasure throbbed too promisingly and insistently to prevent my one hand from sliding down Kevin's shapely back, resting on the warm, twin mounds of flesh that graced his bottom. I squeezed them one at a time, as my other hand squirmed heedlessly against the hot shaft of his young hardness--unaccustomed to its own rigidity and reacting violently to the pleasurable sensations. "Oh, God!" Kevin shrieked in boyish pleasure, pressing his smaller body firmly into mine, and making other, high-pitched, indescribable sounds. I was so intoxicated with delight that it didn't surprise me when my son wrapped his own hand around the two organs, encircling them as best he could, and displacing my hand. It was obvious that to Kevin, his penis was the only thing that existed at the moment. Admittedly, my attention also was focused on his erection. I hugged my boy's warm body to mine. "You said sex stuff would feel good, dad, but . . . I didn't know--I mean--it feels WAY good." In spite of his hesitant speech, it seemed to me that Kevin was more in control of himself than I was, yet he was experiencing intense, unexpected feelings. I relaxed my hug and looked down at his face. "Yes, Kevin, it was meant to feel very good, but this is the best I ever--" I caught myself in mid-sentence, leaving off the part that it was better than any other male contact I ever had (few though they were), but it was too late. I had so little control over myself that I had slipped with the deepest secret of my past--and now I feared I had revealed it to my son. And I never imagined I would feel this way ABOUT my son. I was trapped--the victim of desires hidden and relentless. Or was I willing all this to happen without my being aware of it? My heart pounded. I wanted him. I wasn't sure how, wasn't sure what exactly I would dare do with him. I tortured myself with the thought that maybe this was not the beauty and charm it seemed to be--maybe the whole situation was some hideous thing that would come to destroy me later on. In addition to all that, and as impossible as it sounded, I was going insane with the hope that Kevin wanted me in return. "Mmm. That's good, dad," Kevin said in all innocence, childishly leaning back and deliberately moving his body to make his penis rub against me. "Ah! Oh, yeah! It's the rubbing that makes it feel good, isn't it?" "Yes," I said, wondering if we hadn't already covered this territory, and feeling my heart would explode out of my chest at any moment--filled as I was with a blur of fear, hesitation, and desire, "I like it, too." "I'm glad it's the best, dad," Kevin said with immense pride adding to the allure of his innocence. "We can do this a lot more because it makes us feel good, right?" By then, my stance was determined on the side of raw desire. "Yes, as long as it feels the best to you, too," I told him. I could not believe I had said that--in spite of the fact that, amazingly, Kevin had propositioned me. As I thought about it, I could not have said 'no.' Yet, I stood in utter disbelief that I had just agreed to play touchy-feely with my son's penis. "Ha-ha!" Kevin said, "How'm I gonna know what's the best and what's not? Is it good enough that it feels really, really good to me?" "Yes, Kev, more than good enough." His intellect sometimes went beyond my comprehension. The stupidity of my previous statement hit me, as well as the fact that Kevin was not doing his usual interrogation of me--of what I might be comparing this moment to, when I'd said it was 'the best.' "Ohh," Kevin moaned. He had grabbed onto my shoulders and was practically hanging from me, as he let his over-engorged penis press into my muscles and slide against them. "The water will be getting cold, soon," I said with miraculous sanity. "I'm drying you off and taking you to my room where it's warm," I added as calmly as possible, hoping to avoid a total physical breakdown before I got to see what Kevin might do in the bedroom. "Mmm," Kevin said and nodded. With his dreamy voice and closed eyes, I wondered if I would have my orgasm just carrying the boy. But to me, despite his diminutive size and nearly unchanged voice, my son wasn't really a boy anymore. Not a man, either, but something wonderful that was unknown and undefined--between boy and man--a very sensual, sexual, and attractive being, almost ethereal in its beauty and grace. And what power that beauty had over me! I remember thinking then, 'Why hadn't I seen any books written about these strange, delightful creatures? Why was this all so new to me, and why was I so ignorant of the subject? Had I missed something that everyone else knew?' And what the hell do I do now? It had been years since I'd dried Kevin with any regularity, but despite my trembling hands, he smiled through it all with delight. After we were reasonably water-free, I carried my son to my bedroom, laying him on his back on the bed. I always kept the bedroom warm, so nakedness and partial wetness was not a problem. "Mmm, this feels good," Kevin said, opening his eyes, which had a new look--a raw, animal look that spoke of vast sexual desire. Desperate, sexual need was more like it. Irrational as it sounds, I felt as if I had to hurry or he would bite me out of sheer sexual frustration. I knew I was just imagining that, but I hurried, nevertheless. Presumably out of some unknown instinct, I involuntarily grasped his boyish hard flesh, and wrapped my hand around it. His pre- sexual wetness surprised me--I didn't know a boy just entering puberty could secrete that fluid. Kevin's reaction to my touch was positive--an encouraging, soft cooing sound accompanied by a small, maddeningly erotic smile-- and the sweet, confident sound of his voice inspired me to gently pump his erection, sliding my hand loosely and very slowly over it. I closed my eyes and came face to face with the incredible reality: I was in bed with my naked son, stroking his erect penis. And I didn't want to stop. "Kevin, is this okay?" "Way okay, dad, don't worry." 'My God!' I thought. We had shared so much over the years, he knew I was worrying. I began wondering which of us was truly the adult. Soon I found myself kneeling between his legs, towering over him, looking at his innocent face and his soft, closed, trusting eyes--which didn't open, even when I said I was going to try something new. "Ahh, ahh! Oh, yes!" Kevin shouted as the tips of my lubricated fingers slid tightly and quickly back and forth over the head of his warm, throbbing penis. His frantic wiggling made his little tool escape my grasp temporarily--so intolerable was his pleasure. He slowly opened his eyes. Keeping them shut up to now had been a tribute to his uncompromising trust in me. "Oh, God. What you're doing! YES!" my son shouted. As the boy calmed, and as I found the right up-and-down rhythm on the tip of his excited penis, Kevin had his first dry orgasm. He shrieked and squealed uncontrollably, until I covered his quivering body with mine. The main shocks of Kevin's mountainous climax had passed, and I was encouraged by the hug he gave me, weak though it was. I cherished the memory of that shower and the ensuing bedroom scene for a long time. It was the only thing that alleviated the disappointment I felt when the next shower did not follow the pattern of the first--nor the next, nor the next. I allowed the sexual details to fade in my mind, to ease the sting of the regret I felt. At times when fear and guilt tried to creep in to spoil whatever memory I had of that moment with my son, I consoled myself with the thought that hand-to-penis contact, while sexual, technically did not constitute a sex act. At other, less guilt-ridden times, I put those thoughts out of my mind and cherished what I had with my son, whatever it was. Lately, the sexual part of our showers consisted only of a few friendly touches, and Kevin sliding his penis on mine for a minute or so. He would smile, touch me, hug me, rinse off, and exit. I would be totally confused by it all, jerk off, and rinse off. I wondered if something had gone wrong, but given Kevin's seemingly boundless bliss, I dared not raise a question that might spoil his good mood. Kevin never talked about our solitary, inaugural sex shower, and I continued to feel uncomfortable asking him about it. Something distant and deep inside me told me the moment would come when all that silence would disappear, but I found myself gritting my teeth, waiting for that moment to arrive. ._._._._._._._._._._._._. I decided to do the unthinkable--I took all internet controls off Kevin's computer, so he could learn more about sexuality and how different people express it. I hoped he would explore a variety of gay sites. At the same time, I knew I was taking a great risk that my boy would discover girls, and forever dash my hopes of having a gay son. I strongly felt that freedom to explore the net unrestrained would encourage Kevin's curiosity, and inspire him to experiment more with me. That was the main reason--to have more physical contact with my son--and later, I began to question my motives and morals. What was happening to me? "Yes, Kevin, I took them all off. You can go to any site on the web. Your computer is like mine now." "Why, dad? I thought the controls were . . . you know . . . something you wanted for my protection." The poor lad seemed confused, almost hurt. "Son, I'll still protect you from anything bad, but . . . you're older now. You need to know what's out there--not just to know, but for your protection, too. Besides, if your friends talk to you about sex, I want you to know at least as much as they do, and be able to answer them. Then, we can talk about it all, and depending on what you like, I can show you some things." I believed every word I'd said and knew I'd spoken the truth-- but each thought seemed to lead me to contemplate the feel of my skin against Kevin's hot flesh; my hand bringing him to sexual satisfaction. It was as if my body never forgot that sensation-- my eyes retained the full wonder of my son's incredible beauty and power on that day when his first orgasm had him writhing in a mysterious erotic dance and song--despite my efforts at dimming the memory. Now, I welcomed it back. "Dad--you can just TELL me--I'll believe you," Kevin said desperately. "I mean, you can SHOW me, too," he added quickly-- his devilish little smile betraying the fact that apparently he did not want to risk giving up our shower sessions. "I'll just tell you, if you want. I promise. But only after you've had a chance to explore the web for a while by yourself. You know I trust you, Kevin, right?" "Yeah dad," my son said, lighting up with a smile. "I can tell." "Then you can do as you want on the web. Just don't ever agree to meet anyone in person, or give out the name or our town, our address, last name, or phone number." "I promise, dad," Kevin said thoughtfully--possibly not realizing the full potential of what he could do, good or bad, with the internet; yet his strong intellect assimilated and understood the necessity of such precautions. His eyes communicated that. Two days later, showering with Kevin, I noticed his full boner right from the beginning. Of course, that meant that I followed suit very quickly. The new part was Kevin's deep blush. I assumed he'd found something on the net that aroused him, and was unsure how to proceed. My boy's whole body seemed to go red with blush, as if filled to overflowing with sexual desire coupled with the embarrassment of his enchanting, youthful uncertainty. But the desperate boy's erection knew only confidence, judging by the fact that it was aimed directly upward, at the ceiling. Its extreme vertical angle and throbbing rigidity were to be envied and admired almost as much as the heavenly expression on Kevin's face. "Dad! I got some really cool ideas of stuff we can do--I mean I can do--well, WE can do, if you want to." I smiled from ear to ear. "I'll bet you have some new ideas, Kevin. I can't wait!" Truer words had never been spoken. I looked at my smiling son-- painfully erect--eager, but looking sheepish and somewhat hesitant about teaching his dad some new tricks. Then, my testosterone high returned with a vengeance, removing what little will I had to resist Kevin's unparalleled seductiveness. And from the looks of him, I'd say my son was drunk with a sense of adventure, not to mention his impossible-to-resist, pubescent sex drive. Kevin's sexually-stimulated body had to be testosterone-laden beyond my ability to remember or imagine. Until that moment, I had been unknowingly playing a type of game with myself regarding Kevin--presumably I was merely having fun being naked with him--talking, touching, and teaching--making him more confident about himself and his body. But now, it became painfully clear, it was time to pay up and face facts. The reality began to sink in: To the best of my ability to determine, Kevin wanted sex, and, though my brain was screaming, "No, no, no," I believed I was not in a position to say 'no.' I was between a rock and a hard place, and unfortunately for me, that hard place was my son's erection. For Kevin, assuming I yielded to his wishes, what was about to happen would be an experiment--just another step in his social and sexual education. For me, it would be performing a sex act with him. To refuse my son would be to devastate him, and negate all that he had learned so far, and much of what I had said. Enthralled with his potent, wet, charming erection and his alluring smile, among other things, I was tempted to let myself go--to go along with his desires willingly and eagerly. But could I live with myself? Did I want to go beyond the role of his teacher and protector? Did I dare have sex with my son? eric_kevin_story@hotmail.com (CHAPTER END: MY SON'S SEXUALITY - Chapter 1) I know it's just a start, but I really hope you like the story so far, and you write to me. THANK YOU for reading. (I'm only estimating 6 chapters. I haven't started writing chapter 2 yet, but I guarantee there WILL be a chapter 2, with your help.) I try not to open SPAM, whenever possible, so let me know your email is NOT spam by putting "KEVIN STORY" or "MY SON'S SEXUALITY" in your subject line. If you are expecting me to answer your email and you get no reply, it's likely because you forgot to put one of those phrases, or something very similar, in your subject line. Are you willing to answer the question, "What should the father do now?" That would be a question to start with, if you want. (I really need to know your opinion on that, btw, so I'll know where you want me to go with chapter 2.) If you have a criticism about the story, please say what it is, and then how you'd like me to fix the situation. If you praise something, it would mean a lot to me to know why you liked that. IF YOU WANT SOMETHING TO DO THAT WILL BE INTERESTING TO YOU AND HELP ME WRITE A BETTER, MORE EROTIC STORY FOR YOU, PLEASE READ: Below you'll see notes that essentially will not be repeated with each succeeding chapter. The least I can do for you is write the type of story you like best, so, another question I'd love you to answer is, (if you're into answering questions and helping me): IF I were to write a second story, and keep updating both of them, what type of story would you like to see me write? Incest? No incest? Boy lover? Boy meets boy? What ages? Pure love story? Jocks? No jocks? Doctors? Nurses? Boys' military school? Anything else? (Or any other genre, possibly including friendly spanking, mild s&m, maybe even well-meaning domination, or even bisexual?? But I hope you don't want anything disgusting like feces, or licking dirty, smelly bodies--no can do.) I'm interested in anything you have to say--about the story or not--also your desires, your experiences, criticisms, praise, ideas--anything. Or tell me what you relate to, please. Also, you can ASK almost anything. I've been around. No, I'm not an expert, but this is the time, I would think, for you (especially if maybe you're sort of new and don't know) to ask about sex, guys, gays, etc., how some of these things work, or what I meant by a certain word or phrase in the story that may have piqued your interest or caused confusion. (It would be great if I could help someone, in the process.) Not to mention the fact that I LOVE to answer questions, (as long as it doesn't expose or put me or my lover at risk). After all, you and I will always be anonymous to each other, and there are no dumb questions. I will never judge you, and will answer you the best I know how. If you ask about something I don't know, I'll tell you that. Please be patient and polite. And be sincere. I may sound naive, but I'm not--I can spot a phony a mile away. Every man is sexual (if he wants to be), and interesting in his own way. If you're 40, 50, 60, 70+, SAY so-- and share some of your fantasies or experiences with me. You never know--I might write a page or two just for you, with your permission, and bring you some private pleasure. I'm 55. If you're a teen or 20s guy, special hugs. It may or may not be legal for me to write to you, depending on your age, but if legal, I will tell you what I know, and/or try to direct you to a reliable youth hot line, if needed. If you're legal, I'll look forward to hearing from you and exchanging fantasies with you, too, if you want. Ditto for 30s guys and all others legal. In writing this chapter, I tried to keep you in mind. In writing future chapters, I'll do my best to portray the types of sex or incest, or whatever you request the most. SEE below, and the words, "More Info" and "ABOUT THE AUTHOR," a little further down. --Eric Please write to Eric at: eric_kevin_story@hotmail.com MAIN CHARACTERS: David(34) and Steven(36) are brothers (and are portrayed less often than their sons, at least for now). DAVID and STEVEN are the 2 dads. Kevin, Eric, Michael, and Mark are collectively the sons of the 2 dads, and are the 4 cousins. David's Sons: Kevin(16)* and Eric(19) Steven's Sons: Michael(15) and Mark(19) * Kevin is 12 just for the very start of the story, which will soon jump to where Kevin is 16. Any similarity between the characters portrayed in this story and actual persons is purely unintentional and coincidental. There are no such persons as David, Steven, Eric, Michael, or Mark in my life; and though there are many people by those names, I don't know any at the moment. Kevin is the one exception. More Info: (about 2 screens) If you just want to email a simple comment, that's fine. If you want to write something more substantial, that is finer, and will get you an equivalent reply. No, the story is NOT going to get nasty, or take off on some s&m plot. Yes, there will be young males having sex without adults participating, etc. Any remarks/suggestions you want to make--I'll read them carefully. I will use all your suggestions that I feel are possible in the story, as long as your email says, "OK TO USE THIS" somewhere in it. Otherwise, everything you write to me is CONFIDENTIAL between me and you and Kevin. ABOUT THE AUTHOR In case you wanted to know: Kevin is my lover and prefers not to be involved with the writing of the story, although he loves it, and likes when I tell him my ideas. No, we are not brothers. I am 55; Kevin is 34--and we love each other deeply. We happen to have some incest fantasies in common. We're together 11 years. Constantly adding to our fantasies keeps us sexually stimulated with each other. We're very private, so we don't chat on line, meet on-line people, or make internet friends 'real' other than pen pals. If you start a nice conversation by way of email, we'll do our best to keep it going as long as possible, as long as it's mutually enjoyable. Thanks. --Eric eric_kevin_story@hotmail.com MY SON'S SEXUALITY - Chapter 1