Not in a Million Years Fiction by STUDS Member Gay Greg My dad and I were always pretty close but we became especially so after Mom took off with Mr. Lemual, my sixth grade teacher; that was a really bad time for both of us. For a long while we didn't even know where she had gone and then Dad got this registered letter from Reno telling him he had been divorced. I guess, really, both of us had been divorced but we got through it somehow, helping one another with the loneliness and the anger and the disappointment. It was bad but it was good, too. For one thing, we learned how much we could depend on each other. We always tried to help each other, too. We both learned to cook a little and whoever cooked the dinner got to do whatever he wanted afterward while the other one cleaned up. We went to movies together, too, and played ball in the front yard and even sometimes read out loud to each other. Not that we were buddies; please don't get that idea. He was my dad and I was his son and he made me toe the line and do my homework and learn my manners and all that stuff; but he also loved me and he let me know that he loved me. I remember when I was in the eighth or ninth grade and wanted to be like everyone else; I wanted him to call me by my regular name rather than 'Son' like he always did. He told me that he was always so proud of me that he liked to remind himself -- and everybody else -- that I was his son. He did agree to try but part of the agreement was that I couldn't call him 'Dad' anymore, I had to call him by his first name. I found that I just couldn't do that -- he was my dad after all -- so we went back to being 'Dad' and 'Son' again. Both of us were relieved but I never really was sure why. My dad didn't get upset about stuff the way the other guy's fathers did, either and he never punished me the way other fathers did. Once he found me and Roy -- the kid who lived next door to us -- smoking cigarettes out behind the garage. Poor Roy was in a panic thinking my dad would tell his dad and his dad would take the strap to him. But my dad didn't tell, he just took us in the house and give us a bunch of booklets and articles to read about smoking. He gave us a week to study them and then he quizzed us to be sure we understood what was in them. When he was satisfied with what we'd learned he said, "Okay, you have the facts. Now you can make an intelligent decision about whether or not you're going to smoke. You see why I love him? There was another time when Roy's father walked in and found him jacking off. Roy said he yelled and screamed and said never to let it happen again. With me, Dad explained what was happening when I did it and even told me the right name for it. He said just about everybody does it because it feels so good only it's a private thing and you probably shouldn't talk about it much except maybe with your buddies. I guess I'm telling you all this so you'll understand what happened that night we had the big storm. We'd been warned that an arctic storm was coming down but when it got to us it was much stronger and a lot colder than anyone had expected. First it snowed a little and then the snow turned to rain but it was so cold the rain froze as soon as it hit anything. It was beautiful to see, everything looking like it was being coated in crystal and we watched out the window until around ten when we shut off the outside lights and went to bed. By midnight or so the ice was so heavy on the utility wires that most of them snapped, leaving the whole town without power or telephone service. With no power, the heater shut down and it didn't take long before I woke up with my teeth chattering. I could hear my dad in the hallway, flipping the light switches on and off so I got out of bed and went to see what was wrong. "No power, no heat I guess," dad said in a disgusted voice. "Cold wake you up too?" "Yeah. I'm freezing." I put my hand out and touched his face; I couldn't tell which was colder. "Well, there's only one thing to do in a situation like this," he said, taking my hand. "Get under the covers and share whatever warmth we have between us. Come on." His teeth were chattering too. We went into his room where he dropped his robe and hopped into bed. "Hurry up Son. It's damn cold in here." When I got in the bed he pulled me up against him and tucked the covers tightly around our necks. We lay still for a few minutes, both of us still shivering a little, waiting to warm up. Dad put his arm around my chest and pulled me tighter against him. "When did you quit wearing your shorts to bed?" he asked, spreading his fingers out on my belly. "A while back. Didn't seem right, wearing 'em all day and then all night too." Actually I'd quit because I'd seen that he slept naked but I didn't want to say that. We were beginning to warm up and his voice sounded drowsy. "Probably right. More comfortable, too." He settled himself against me and began to snore very softly, his breath gentle on my neck. I remember thinking how good it felt, his arm around me, holding me close against him, the hair on his chest feeling wiry against my back. I drifted off to sleep about as happy as I'd ever been. I woke feeling him stir against me. There was a warm fullness pressing into the valley between my buns and I tried to figure out what it was. When I realized it was my dad's cock, slowly swelling into a sleep hard-on, it took my breath away. It felt huge against me and almost alive the way it moved as it hardened. My own cock was hard too, pushing itself out into the cold between the sheets, but mine wasn't a sleep hard-on. I liked the feel of him pressed against me and I lay very still for a long time, afraid to move, afraid I might wake him and he'd turn over or pull away from me. Then his cock stirred again and I felt it slowly loose it's bulk and soften, drawing itself along my valley until it was tucked away near the top. Dad sighed in his sleep, almost as if he knew. I drifted off to sleep again, feeling very warm and safe. The next time I woke it must have been five or six in the morning and Dad was hard again, his cock pressed tightly against me. My cock was hard too and I ached to relieve it but I was still afraid to move. Then Dad stirred and rolled away from me. "Umf. Sorry Son," he said, his voice heavy with sleep. "Gotta pee bad. Makes a man's... Well, you know. Didn't mean to..." "I know, Dad. It does that to me, too. All the time." He chuckled and patted my belly. "Guess it happens to all of us. You want to go first?" I shook my head in the dark. "No, you go ahead. I can wait." He rolled out of bed and hit the floor practically running. I could hear him in the bathroom, hopping from one foot to the other nd swearing softly to himself while he peed. When he came back to bed his skin was icy cold and I lay close against him for a moment, warming him. "Go on Son. You'll feel better for it." He put his big hands on my ass and pushed me out of the bed. The cold hit me and I ran for the bathroom. When I climbed back in the bed Dad pulled me close and stretched himself against me, warming me from neck to foot. "I tell you Son, I don't see any reason to get out of this bed until Spring." He put his arm around my chest again and pulled me tight against him. "No reason at all." We slept for another hour or so and then he pulled away from me, mumbling "Gotta turn over." We reversed positions and I found myself pressed against his back; I put my arm around him like he had me and let my fingers get tangled in his hair. I came up hard almost immediately, my cock pressed against his ass and I felt the muscles in his back tense up. "You gotta pee again, Son?" "No Sir." He lay still for a moment and then sighed, relaxing back against me. A little while later we turned over again and when he pulled me close against him I found that he was hard again. His cock slipped neatly in between my buns and I moved around gently until the head of it rested against my hole. It felt wet and slick and I pushed back against it very gently. Dad mumbled something, almost like he was talking in his sleep and then I got very bold, spitting in my hand and reaching behind me to smear the spit on his cock. Dad mumbled again and then, very clearly, he said, "You sure you know what you're doing, Son?" "Yes, Sir. I do." And I did. I don't know how, but I knew exactly what I was doing and what I wanted to happen. "Please?" He pulled away from me but only to add his own spit to what I'd put on him. Then he put his arms around me again and I felt myself begin to open up to him, like a flower opening its petals. He kissed me on my neck and then very slowly pulled me back against him, filling me with himself until I thought I couldn't hold any more. My own cock was throbbing out in front of me, harder than it'd ever been. When he was all the way inside of me and his thick, wiry hair was pressed tight against me, dad sighed and lay still for a long time, almost as though he'd gone back to sleep. "You okay with this, Dad?" "I... I don't know yet, Son. You?" "Oh, yes Sir." I squeezed my ass muscles down on his cock. "I'm just fine with it." He pulled a little way out of me and then pushed back in making my cock tingle. He did it again a couple of times and then lay very still. "You sure?" He reached out and closed his fingers around my cock, feeling its hardness. The tingling suddenly spread to the rest of me and then the world exploded as I filled his hand with my cum. I guess that pushed him over the edge too because suddenly I felt his cock bucking around inside me and he let out a long cry. Then he lay still, clutching me against him until we both half fell asleep. The feel of Dad's cock brought me awake. It was beginning to slip out and I pushed back against him, making it stay inside me. I guess that woke him. "You uncomfortable?" "No. Just trying not to let it slip out." I gingerly squeezed my ass down on it so he'd know what I meant. He took hold of my cock -- which was still very hard -- with sticky hands. "Jesus. Still..." He was silent for a long moment and I felt his cock begin to grow inside me. "You... Uh, you know what I just did to you, Son?" "Uh huh. You know what I just did to you?" He was fully hard now and I moved on it, just a little. He pressed his hand against my belly, making me stop. "Don't, please. Not when I'm trying to work this out. My God, Son, I just... I just fucked you." I'd only heard him use that word once before. I'd been practicing some shock words Roy had given me and I said something like: "Now what the fuck is this?" My dad just looked at me and shook his head. "Wrong word, Son. Fuck is a word lots of people use when they mean to say something dirty or bad but that isn't right." He'd smiled at me, letting me know my shock hadn't worked. "Fuck is simply a man's special word, an uncomplicated way to describe what a man does when he's making love to someone. What you probably meant to say is 'Now what the SHIT is this?' and if you say THAT around here again I'll wash your mouth out with soap." "Me too." "Me too? What does that mean?" "It means I just fucked you too, Dad." I pushed back against him and squeezed down. "Can't you tell how much I wanted this? I made it happen. You never would of ..." He sighed. "No, I never would have. Not in a million years." He lay quitely for a while, thinking. "You wanted this?" He flexed his hard cock in my ass. "Oh, yes Sir. Worse than I've ever wanted anything. A lot of times I've jack... masturbated thinking about it." "You have?" The smile came back into his voice. "Well, I'll be damned." I moved on his cock again. "Come on, Dad. Let's do it again. Please?" He made it last a long time, bringing both of us to the edge and then backing off, over and over again. I ached to touch myself but he wouldn't let me, he wanted to do it himself. When he finally did let it happen he brought us an orgasm that seemed to go on and on forever. That was quite a long time ago -- more than eighteen years -- but I will always remember it like it was this morning. And even though we still do it every chance we get, that first time will always be special to both of us. 11/03/93: For my real dad, who might very well have liked it.