Date: Thu, 26 Feb 2009 12:55:07 -0800 (PST) From: dws202 Subject: Object of My Desire 3 This is a work of my own from my own recollections and fantasies, all the usual warnings and disclosures about such material apply. If you like it, let me know at dws202@yaoo.com I never got together with Dave again, as hot as it was. Soon after our encounter I turned 16 and really started living a normal social life with my high school friends, yet all the time still racked with overwhelming sexual desires and fantasies. Being popular, hanging out, going to parties and dances was all fun, but the simple vanilla life of a typical high school sophomore did nothing to quell my inner perversions, above all the taboo and forbidden lust I still held for my dad. Dave's revelation-that when younger, my dad had fucked him, drove me crazy with possibilities. Did he still do things like that? Even if he did, what difference did that make to me? Even if he still likes male hole, that surely didn't mean he would do something so sick as to plow his own son's ass. And what about my fantasies-were they just a reaction to being horny, to wanting to get nasty with practically any guy I saw, or was it really the incest that turned me on so much? Being taken by Dave had been hot, but it was really the incestual perversions that he had breathed in my ear and mind during our encounter that I kept returning to night after night. Whatever the reason behind them, my nighttime fantasies made by typical high school existence by day seem unreal by comparison. Meanwhile, there was still no reason to suspect that what I dreamed about at night would ever be a reality. My dad was the same as ever, a few years older and a bit thicker around the middle than he had been when I first started fantasizing about him, but still the object of my desire. I was too old to get myself into innocent situations of catching him coming from the shower, but still had on occasion sneaked into his room and taken a dirty pair of briefs from the hamper to help satisfy my lust. Yet I couldn't even imagine him fucking another guy when he was younger, much less now-and even much more less me. Sixteen-year-olds being what they were and are, I started to run around with a "party crowd" the summer after sophomore year. We tried a ridiculous number of ways to score beer that summer, and sometimes even managed to do so. It doesn't take much to get wasted at that age, as I found out at a few parties over the summer, and it was after one of them that something unexpected happened that still makes me dizzy with waves of lustful remembrance when it all comes back to me. My friends dropped me off late that night and I successfully snuck in to avoid being caught coming in after curfew, or so I thought. As I turned to go down the hall I heard my dad say "Dan, is that you?" from the den. Shit. Busted. And I had been drinking beer, so much that I was very dizzy and just wanted to lie down. But I knew I couldn't get out of this, so I drew myself up and went into the den, where my dad was sitting and watching TV, a beer in his hand. As if my beer dizziness weren't enough, the site of my dad made me even more unbalanced. His dress and posture were exactly those of so many of my late-night fantasies, when I imagined him in his robe, slightly parted to allow a glimpse of his briefs and naked chest, legs spread apart so that I could see that hair on his crotch and the beginnings of his hairy balls in the glow of the TV. No other light was on, and he was alone. I had to focus, I was already in too much trouble and didn't need to make the situation worse with my stupid fantasies. But still, I felt like I had just walked into one of my own erotic dreams, that I was writing a script in my head and whatever I wanted to happen, would. Come on, man, snap out of it. "You're late." Yeah, I know, time got away from me. Guess I'll go to bed now, goodnight! "That's OK, your mom's asleep so she won't know when you came in, sit down and watch TV with me if you want." OK, I said. Stay steady, move to the couch next to his chair and have a seat. Make small talk a few minutes then excuse yourself, you'll get away with everything. Then I can go to bed and start dreaming about that package between those big, hairy thighs in the chair next to me. Just like with Dave, that time in the car-and then I realized I had made the same mistake, I was staring without thinking, and as I turned my gaze from my dad's crotch to his face, I saw he was staring back at me. A hard, penetrating, un-knowing gaze that made me both incredibly horny and afraid at the same time, but still he stared at me, almost blankly. I looked again at his crotch, and this time the flap of his briefs was tented with a humongous boner escaping. Still he stared, not moving a muscle, as if he were daring me to keep looking at him, or was I being dared to do something else? I was in too far already, so I decided to follow that script in my head. I stood up, went over to the chair, knelt in from of my father, pulled his cock out of the underwear I had smelled, licked and cum on so many times, and went down on him like I had never gone down on anyone before or since. For what seemed like an eternity, he did nothing. Then he put his beer aside, and slightly moaning, grabbed my hair with his right hand and pushed me deeper onto his cock, for just a moment. Abruptly, he pulled me off his cock by my hair and stood up, muttering, "I can't do this, I can't do this," pulling his robe to and walking off. I stayed there kneeling in front of the chair as I heard him go upstairs to bed, positively spinning with beer and pent up desire, so heady with perversion at what just happened that I couldn't and didn't think of any consequences. If only for a moment, I had just sucked my father's cock, and the realization of all those sick and twisted fantasies made me so horny I couldn't bear it anymore. I grabbed a towel from the guest bathroom, and some lotion, and pulling my pants down to my ankles, I settled onto the couch for a long and slow jock-off session. It wasn't long before the beer and the late hour got to me, and I passed out cold. It was stupid of me not to go to my room, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to be near that chair where I sucked his dick, to bury my face in the cushion and smell where his sweaty hairy ass had been while I slobbered on his cock. I woke up briefly as he stood over me again, bending down to say, "Are you awake?" I didn't answer, and I felt his hands moving over me, on my cock, down my asscrack and probing into my puckered bunghole. I barely remembered him sucking on his finger and sliding it into me, my moaning, a robe and a shoe coming off, the beer and sleepiness and confusion clouding me so much that I couldn't record the event I had been dreaming of all my youth. Why had I screwed up this opportunity so much, I thought, as I drifted off once again. Dawn had barely broken when I woke again, on my bed. I was face down with only my underwear on-my dad must have brought me to bed. Damn, I had made such a mess of things, I was surely in a lot of trouble. Worst of all, except for the a few clear moments, I couldn't even be sure of exactly what had happened. Had I thrown myself at him and then he spurned me, just returning to drop off my sorry ass into my bed before my mom awoke? That's what I figured as I lumbered off to the bathroom to pee, wondering how on earth I could possibly face his after this disgrace. That's when I noticed, as I pulled those briefs down, that there was something cold and wet on my ass. I turned on the light, pulled down my underwear and faced backwards against the mirror, where I could see the cum draining out of my bunghole and down my crack, onto my upper thighs. My dad, my own father, had violated me, and put his fat cock into my hole and fucked me raw, leaving the sperm that made me dripping out of his own son's shithole. Nothing that had happened before, in reality or my mind, could compare with the heat of that perverted realization. My dad never spoke about it, and neither did I-I remembered enough from that night to know that he never wanted to be reminded of what he had done. But for me, all I have to do is think of that cock up my hole and all the sick fantasies leading up to it, and I still cum like I've never cum before.