Date: Mon, 18 May 2015 19:10:07 +0000 (UTC) From: kevin Donovan Subject: TLC 1-2 T. L. C. By Kevin Donovan This story is complete fiction, and it involves sex between adult males including a father and his adult son. Nothing sexual happens with any minor, and all sex acts are consensual. But if these things offend you, or if they are illegal to read or possess where you live, or if you yourself are a minor, stop right now. If you enjoy this work and appreciate my poor efforts to entertain, let me hear from you at letsgonaked2000@yahoo.com CHAPTER ONE Looking back, I can see now that I was in a true, clinical depression since the illness and sudden death of my wife Sherry, almost a year earlier. Her cancer was of the most virulent type. Nothing attempted had the least effect on it, and she was gone within a month of diagnosis. It was the first time I ever knew her not to be in complete control of any situation. To say I was stunned would be understatement. Paralyzed with shock and grief, more like it. In the clear light of hindsight, I can also comprehend now that our relationship, while powerful and all-consuming for me, was not perhaps the healthiest in the world. Sherry was the only female I ever felt strongly about, after my mother, and she was the only one with whom I ever had a sexual relationship. At the time of her death, I had been married to her for half my life. Prior to her, I had had only tepid and hesitant sexual experiences, and only with a few male friends. Even during our marriage, the asses I turned to look back at were men's, the legs and chests I couldn't help staring at were on male bodies. Sherry saw it, and laughed. "Hell, I can't say I blame you," she chortled one time. "I think he's hot, too." Maybe I married Sherry, and loved her so, because she was the closest thing I ever found to a man with a pussy. I guess I also did it because she told me to, and out of a sense of responsibility. She certainly ruled the roost in our home and in her business. I was a seventeen-year old stable boy on her hobby-farm, trying to make some extra money, learn about equine management, build up my body through hard work, and have some fun with the horses, since I did not own one myself. But Sherry got some other ideas, once she saw me working shirtless on the hay wagon. She wasn't subtle. She had me over at the house and in her bed the second time she saw me on the premises. She was then twenty-five—eight years older, decades more worldly wise, light years more confident and assertive than I was. She must have wanted the pregnancy. She certainly knew how to avoid one, and she did that afterward ("Hey, we did it right the first time when we made Alex, no need to try again!") She had already taken over her father's business and made it into a multi-million dollar enterprise. I wonder now if she did not design to make sure I was potent first, before she married me (she would never have doubted her own fertility, or anything else!), and virile enough to keep pace with her own super-charged sex drive. What she lacked was a child; what she did not want was a domineering husband (what fireworks that would have been!); what she enjoyed was a sexy, muscular, young jock—-full of cum, but biddable. That was me. She actually invited my parents out to dinner with us to break the news "we" were pregnant, and to ask for my hand in marriage. They had to sign for me. The poor `rents could hardly have been more shocked. They didn't even know I was dating this formidable older woman. They were not thrilled. But something about Sherry brooked no contradiction. She was pretty, successful, pregnant with my child (and had the test results to prove it), obviously crazy about me—and rich. They signed. She put me to work for her enterprises right away, in an office in her house, so I could manage the household, too, at the same time. I got my business degree at the nearby university, largely through on-line studies, but more than anything, I was trained to her exacting standards on the job. And in her bed. We fucked like apes in a zoo for the next eighteen years, until just before her death-- always at her instigation, but I was happy to oblige. No headaches or erection failures for this stud! Randy as I was, she just about wore me out sometimes. She could have handled two husbands. She did take the occasional lover, for short periods of time. I always knew about it, and I was always just a little jealous-—of her, not of him! She had great taste in men, beginning with me, of course, but extending to her little flings, too, always with younger and very sexy guys. I'd have loved to do them, or better yet, have them do me. On two occasions, we shared a man. The first time was my twenty-third birthday. Alex was visiting his grandparents so that we could "go out" to celebrate on our own. She brought the man home to me as a gift, but he did not know that. The dude was around my age, six feet of dark-haired, strong-jawed, lean, and sun-bronzed muscle and sinew she'd met at the gym in town, fit and trim as a race-horse and hung like one, too—but dumber than an ox. His name was Hank. I came in, as she expected but he didn't, from an errand, and found them naked in our bed together. Hank looked up in alarm from eating out Sherry's box. I thought he was going to dive through the plate glass window, he was so startled, even though he could have probably taken me in hand-to-hand combat, despite my own physical fitness and natural gifts. I'm not very aggressive or assertive. And after all, I was at least as much caught off guard as he was. In addition, I was stupefied by the sight of his tight, white ass in the air, his ample scrotum and big oval balls splayed out on the sheet between the spread of his muscled thighs. But Hank didn't know that, either. His handsome, tanned face was all guilt and chagrin—he knew me, too, from the gym. We'd chatted a few times and even sat naked in the sauna together once, my eyes wandering repeatedly to his crotch. Dense as he was, Hank had not caught on the least bit to my very mild flirtations. Yet he was putty in Sherry's manicured fingers. She was like that, my Sherry, a woman of power and implacable will. She grasped Hank's powerful shoulders and calmed him as she would one of the horses. "Easy, boy, settle down. You were doing just fine, there. I think you've met my husband, Brad. Brad, Hank. Come on, Honey, join us. Happy birthday!" "Whoa, lady, I didn't sign up for this—it was supposed to be just you and me for two hours!" Hank protested weakly. "Well, turns out there's a slight complication in that plan, Lover. Don't worry about it, Brad won't bite. Not to leave a mark, anyway. Come on up here and finish what you came for. I'm ready for something bigger and harder than your tongue." I can slip out of clothing in seconds. Though he eyed me distrustfully and apprehensively, Hank had a big ole hard-on he needed to do something with, so he kneed up between Sherry's legs and mounted her. When the fat head of his ample cock slid inside her vagina, he checked my face carefully to read whether I was going to attack him or not. I had begun working on her tits a bit, but I leaned back to let my birthday present lie atop her. Reassured, he assumed the missionary stance and started hunching. Damn, the man had a nice ass, even if it was lily white. Nice everything, really, even down to shapely guy feet, though they were white, too, up to sock height. His buttocks were swathed in silky black hair, the kind that turns me on most, not at all wiry. You could've used his hard butt for an anvil, clenching like it was. I was mesmerized. He gave the old lady a good ride, well past her orgasm, then filled her cunt with his jizz. I know there was a lot of it, because I went in next, and her passage was slick as goose shit, from her juices and his. Now it was his turn to watch me fuck, and he did. I felt his eyes boring into my backside as I bred my wife. I prolonged the show as much as I could, and I have pretty good ejaculatory control. Hank didn't miss a stroke. After she came a second time, impressively, my cum-load topped off her tank, and I withdrew. Hank was right behind me, hotter than a stock brand. "I'm ready to go again," he announced. "Whoa, there, stud-dog. I've had enough, I think. My turn to watch you two. Fuck Brad, he likes it." "I don't know how you know that—I've never HAD it," I protested. "I know you, Baby. Better than you know yourself." She leaned over to the bedside table and withdrew of tube of KY jelly from the drawer. "Here, slick up both parts with this." She handed it to Hank. "Hell, ma'am, I ain't never done that, neither." Hank's grammar deteriorated under pressure, but he was a polite son of a bitch. "Great. I get to watch both of you lose a piece of virginity." She sat up, leaning against the headboard, and drew her feet up cross-legged. I wasn't sure whether Hank was going to run for it just play along. For once, I took matters into my own hands, though of course, Sherry was directing. I took the tube out of Hank's slack hand, squeezed some on my fingers, and massaged it into my asshole, as he watched, mesmerized. Now that the opportunity presented itself, I wanted this, bad. Had been wanting it for a long time. I drew a second dollop and caressed it onto Hank's hard cock. He didn't hit me. Good sign. But he watched my hand slick up his cock as if it was someone else's unit. I got on all fours, diagonal on the bed so that Sherry could see the whole act clearly. Hank paused hesitatingly, but I didn't look back—best just to assume he was in, I thought. And it worked. I felt a finger poking at my anus hesitantly. "You clean back there?" "Should be. You're about to find out." Sherry laughed at that. A second finger joined the first. It stretched my sphincter pretty good. This guy knows more about this than he lets on, I thought. I guess I did, too, because I began to press down to open up my hole, as I had read about. The fingers withdrew, and then a blunt, firm but spongy thing pressed against my anus. Nada. It pressed again, harder. I pressed from within. I gasped as the cock head popped inside with a pang of sharp pain. I'd given up my virginity to this handsome, sexy Neanderthal, for whom I cared nothing. Damn. Why do I crave this when it hurts so much, I wondered. But I did crave it. I wanted that cock all the way in me, as deep as it could go, no matter if it killed me. And I felt like it might. I was panting, my face contorted, red and sweating. Veins on my neck and forehead were popping. "You OK, Baby? It should get better in a minute. Hang in there." I did, and it did. Hank had sense (or experience?) enough to slide in gradually, each thrust going a little deeper, until I felt his pubes tickle my backside. He then pressed firmly, deep as he could go. That felt fantastic. He fucked me that way for several minutes, then he stood and bent at the knees to ream me straight down from above my ass, me still on all fours. That caused his big dick to hit my prostate at every thrust, and I thought I might pass out from it, it was so powerful. He pounded it as I moaned and carried on. Sherry spread her feet on either side of me and presented me with her drippy cunt. Mindlessly, I licked at her clit and lapped up the double shot of jizz as it emerged. I had tasted mine before, of course, from that very fountain, but Hank's added a different flavor, a little saltier. It was good. Hank was breathing heavily and whining like a hound dog dreaming under a porch. Suddenly, he thrust hard, froze, trembled, and let out a big sigh. I felt wetness overwhelm my colon. I'd been bred, for the first time. And I loved it. Just then, Sherry came again, emitting even more of the cum from inside her vagina. I lapped it up, but my mind was on the cock in my ass. It was only my first time, but I had a craving for more. I knew immediately that I would gladly bend over for cock anytime, anyplace I could get it, from then on. Hank was sweating like a draft horse and looking bewildered. He had just fucked a man's ass, with a woman watching, no less, and enjoyed it--and he had no clue what to make of that. He slid off the foot of the bed and started looking for his clothes, which were pretty much all over the place. He must've been pretty horny when they arrived. "You sure have a white ass, Hank," I commented. "You ought to come over and sun at our backyard pool and even that tan up. It's nice and private." Sherry chuckled. She knew exactly what I was up to. "Yeah, sure," Hank mumbled. No sincerity in his voice whatsoever. "Hey, I'm here all day. My office is here at the house. Just drop by. When's your off-day? Well, today, Wednesday, I guess, huh." "Uh. Yeah, I guess." "See you next Wednesday, then." "Uh. Yeah, sure." Hank rushed out with his shirt-tail still hanging out the back. To my surprise, he did actually show up, though, two Wednesdays later, and several more over the next few months. His tan evened up nicely, so that his ass, ankles, and feet matched the rest of him. He fucked my ass every time he visited, too. Twice. The dummox never even asked me if he could. When I came out to the pool deck to say hello, naked as I always was at home, he pretty much just grabbed me and ravished me, though I was a willing participant—dry the first time. After that, I made sure there was a tube of lube handy, and Hank agreeably used it. Sherry politely stayed away from the house during the afternoons on Wednesdays. I developed no feeling at all for poor Hank, but I dearly loved using his cock and looking at his hot body. I got in a lot of much-needed cock-sucking practice on him, too. In the fall, he took a new job in another town, and away he went, with very little in the way of a good-bye. He just fucked me, as usual, twice, then came back for thirds, making me wonder what was up. "This'll be the last time," he grunted as he spermed my ass. "I'm movin' to Denver." So that was it. No more Hank. Sherry was tenderly solicitous, and she brought home a big, strap-on dildo, which she used on my ass to modest effect every so often. I think she always really wanted a big dick of her own, frankly. But for me, it just wasn't the same thing as the real, warm and alive masculine appendage, with a horny, strapping man attached. It was a few years later we picked up the second guy, in a bar. He was barely twenty-one, so it was cradle-robbing even for me, more so for Sherry. She had just ended a longer-than-usual affair with a very hot, married sales rep—her token black stud-- that hung around the office, and I guess she wanted to make it up to me. She looked this young guy over, ball-capped head to flip-flopped toe, gave me a wink, a nod, and a leering grin. I smiled back, and nodded. So she proceeded to flirt with the kid. He was clearly honored, and he flirted back. He was about five feet ten, well-built, with short brown hair and a wide smile. His blue eyes sparkled with a slightly cynical good humor, and he had a definite boyish charm about him. Turned out he had a decidedly mannish dick on him. I bought drinks for all of us, and he looked me over appraisingly. This one was young, but not that dumb. I flirted a bit, too, as the drinks arrived, and he smiled knowingly, and flirted back. After one more round, we drove home, having bagged our prey. As always, I really enjoyed looking over the sleek, young, male body as he stripped for action, not the least bit shy. He was beautiful, and he knew it. He fucked Sherry, as was only proper, and then I did, and then he and I fucked one another. She watched both ways raptly. He politely asked if she wanted more, and she said, "No, you two go ahead," so he and I swapped fucks again, more slowly, more sweatily, and running through several more pages of Kama Sutra. She watched with enjoyment of the show, and we put on quite a show for her. That one wound up staying the night, and he fucked my ass a third time in the morning, while Sherry still slept. His name was Kenny. He slipped on his threads, gave me a sweet kiss, and went on his way. We never saw him again. But these adventures, remember, were over a period of years. Sherry and I had hot and heavy sex nightly, but it wasn't my life. By day, I worked on orders, accounts, invoices, and correspondence three quarters of the day, and tended the house, garden, and Alex's needs the rest of the time. From his infancy, I was the stay-at-home parent. I drove him back and forth to school, scouts, soccer, and tee-ball. I never missed a game. I coached his youth basketball, taught him to throw a baseball, pass a football, shoot a lay-up, keep his room neat, and organize his homework. I gave our son plenty of TLC growing up, not realizing that the day would come, in the not-so-distant future, when I would need and receive much tender, loving care in return from him. * * * * * * Maybe it was wrong of me, but I never saw the need for clothing when I was in my own home or private land. Sherry encouraged that attitude, because she liked to have the eye candy—-she even brought people by the house and surprised me occasionally, just to show me off to them--and she liked to have me ready for sex at any moment. She was the quickest woman to heat up I ever heard of, though of course, my personal experience is limited. It was not unusual for her to take me by the hand and lead me into the bedroom for a quickie. When Alex was about ten, I put in the gym in our finished basement. It had everything the membership gym did (we could afford it), except sweaty, spandex-clad co-members. I could work out nude there, a lot easier and quicker, and Alex could do his thing, too, without silly club restrictions. I'd always been pretty buff, but I began to put on some size and definition that I'd never had before. My guns became awesome and attracted stares and comment everywhere. The rest of me was not that bad, either. At age thirty, it's a pretty cool thing to have a waist the same number, and holding. Sherry was impressed and appreciative. I was definitely doing my part to keep her love and attention, and I got a lot of it. Alex was proud of his dad, too. He never minded having me around, and he was quick to volunteer me to help lead any activity his group was up to. So from birth, really, Alex was accustomed to a naked dad, and like all preschoolers, he loved to go naked, too. We were a cute pair, Sherry thought. She joined us sometimes, especially around the pool. Once he went to school, Alex was dressed more, and I was, too, of course, to chauffer him or attend his after-school events. Once we got home, though, the threads flew. I'd be in my office working away in the buff, and in would come Alex for some purpose, naked as me. We were used to it, and we made no comment on it. He regularly saw me, casually, with an erection or a semi, just because I had a lot of testosterone flowing, and that happens to young, virile men. He finally asked me about it one time, just before he entered puberty himself, and I explained the purpose and the origin of men's penises and their erections. With a ready-made show and tell on hand, it was so much easier and more natural than having "the talk" in a stilted, contrived manner. I stressed the act was only partly for baby-making, but also for couples to give pleasure to one another and strengthen their relationship. He knew enough to know already where the thing would get inserted for this to happen, since he'd noted the difference in us and his mom. He'd seen us disappearing into our room plenty of times, too. He had a question, though. "To make a baby, does it have to go in the front?" "Yeah. Same place the baby later comes out." "Kyle Morgan talks about butt-fucking all the time. Is that something couples do, too?" "Well, some do, not all." "He says boys can do it." "Yeah, boys or men can do that. The anus is the same, on males and females." "Man, I don't see how anything like that (pointing at my persistently hard male organ) could ever fit in there!" "Um-—have you ever noticed the size of some of the stuff that comes out, into the toilet bowl?" He paused. "Oh. Well, yeah, I guess so." He was quiet for a moment. I continued with my bench presses as he stared at my dick thoughtfully. "Have YOU ever done it?" "O. K., first, because I've always encouraged you to ask me questions—yes, I have. Second," I held up a hand to silence the follow-up question that was already forming in his mouth, "that is all I'm going to say about it. That is in the area of personal information that you have no need to know." Alex respected my ruling on that one, but I could almost see the wheels turning in his cute little mind, as he pondered which end of the ass-fucking I had been on, and with whom. My relative openness with him paid dividends, though. He didn't get all secretive when puberty hit, like most boys do. He came running into my office one afternoon as I was crunching some numbers. "Dad, look!" He thrust his crotch at me. "Yeah, I see, you can get hard, too. Good going, dude. It will get bigger fast now, until before you know it, you'll be as big as me." "No, not that. I've been doing that. Look at those hairs." You'd almost need a magnifying glass to see them, but they were there, fine and light brown. I grinned, but managed not to laugh. "Way to go, Son," I praised, as if he had done this by dint of hard labor. "You'll have your full bush in no time, once it starts. Under the arms, too. I see darker hair coming up your legs now, too. You're almost a man, no doubt about it." He beamed, and he made regular reports on his progress after that. Alex was an easy kid to raise. He didn't need much parenting at all. I was more big brother, coach, and buddy to him than father, all his life-—after all, when Sherry died and he was seventeen, I was only thirty-four myself. I fathered him at that same age, as he pointed out to me a few times. We had a great life, and a great relationship. Then everything went up in flames when we lost Sherry, the director and stage manager of both our lives. I'm not proud of the way I reacted. I behaved as if I was the only one who had lost anything. Where I should have focused myself on my beautiful, talented, smart, loving, orphaned son, I withdrew into myself. I didn't shave or dress for days on end. If the business had not been so well organized, it would have suffered badly: fortunately, the staff stepped in willingly to pick up Sherry's loss, and my slack. If he hadn't been able to drive himself to school, I guess Alex just wouldn't have gotten there! I wasn't much fun to be around. But Alex came into his own, under circumstances that could have wounded him terribly. He buried his grief in taking care of himself, and me. He put together our meals—-we lived on Ramen noodles, box macaroni and cheese, salad, and frozen pizza or take-out chicken and burgers, though I ate little of it. He did my laundry and his. I hardly even noticed, and said nothing about, my newly pink golf shirt and undershirts. But that only happened once. The kid was a quick learner. My mother came over one Tuesday afternoon unannounced. "I've come for Alex," she said. "Until you get hold of yourself, this is no way for him to live." I was sullen and about to get hostile, but Alex saved the day, being much more the man than I was. "No, Gran, I need to stay here. This is my home, and my place is with my dad." He went to her and kissed her on the cheek. "You're sweet to want to look out for me." "Actually, Brad, you should come, too. You can have your old room, and Alex can have your sister's. Until you get back on your feet." I was shaking my head, but could not come up with a sane response. Alex could. "Gramma, I know you're concerned. We've all been concerned. It's been a rough time for us. But we're about to get better, really. You'll see. Dad needs me here now, we both need to be here, so we can deal with this. We're fine, really. And about to get even finer. I can tell." Mom looked doubtful, but she yielded to her grandson's competent argument. She left then, but returned a few hours later with several cartons of home-cooked foods, and told Alex, not me, how to heat it. More food arrived over the next few days, and went into our freezer. It was humiliating to me, but it helped me start to turn a corner. Alex handled the rest. That Saturday morning, he came into my bedroom bearing a tray. He'd made pancakes, his first ever, and they were ugly as a jug-headed baby. There was burned bacon, too, to go with them. I was awake, just not motivated to move yet, but I swung my feet over the side of the bed and sat up. I was naked, of course. So was Alex, his body now completely mature, and beautiful. He set the tray beside me and offered me a mug of too-strong coffee. I sipped appreciatively, and he sat with me on the other side of the tray. "I'm going to get rid of this bed," I announced incongruously. "How come? It's a great bed." I glanced behind me at the king-size mattress set, all made up except for one narrow swath where I had slept, and lain awake. "It's too big. I'm too lonely in it. I can't get used to it," I wailed, and then burst into tears, something I had not done for months. Alex looked stricken, but also compassionate. "Yeah, I hadn't thought of that. Of course. We'll see what we can do." Our roles were reversed, and I guess both of us knew it. I was uncertain and helpless, he was thoughtful, confident, taking charge. "Will you eat something? I made it just for you. Sorry, it isn't very pretty. I guess I got it too hot. I hope I do better next time." I bawled again, this time out of shame. "Alex, you're great. You've been my rock. I love you so much. I know they'll be wonderful." I ate a bite, and damned if it didn't taste pretty good. Alex smiled, relieved. "I'll come back in a little while for the tray. Enjoy." He stood and leaned over to give me a warm, syrupy kiss on the lips. We used to kiss like that years ago, but not lately. "I love you, too, Dad. More than you know." I put away that whole breakfast, except for the most burned parts of the bacon, and I enjoyed it. I began to realize how very fortunate I was, to have such a wonderful son. Most parents have to hope they can survive their children's teenage years, until they come out human on the other side. My son was loving, charming, considerate, responsible, and wise, now at seventeen. What a blessing! I got up and went to my office to do some work for a change. Won't the office staff be surprised, I thought. TLC By Kevin Donovan This story is complete fiction, and it involves sex between adult males including a father and his adult son. Nothing sexual happens with any minor, and all sex acts are consensual. But if these things offend you, or if they are illegal to read or possess where you live, or if you yourself are a minor, stop right now. If you enjoy this work and appreciate my poor efforts to entertain, let me hear from you at letsgonaked2000@yahoo.com CHAPTER TWO That night, I settled into my piece of the big bed, not thinking of my earlier despair at the vacant other half of it, but after I had dozed off, I was partly roused by feeling a weight settle onto the other side of the mattress. The new arrival scooted over my way, under the covers, until he pressed against my naked backside, draping an arm over my chest familiarly. It was definitely a "he." "Alex?" "Yeah, Dad." "What are you doing?" "I'm filling that empty space in this big bed so you won't be so alone. I should have thought of it long time ago. Sorry." "What is that big hard thing pressed up against my ass crack?" "Um, that's my cock. Sorry. It'll go down later, I hope." "When did you grow that, Dude? It feels huge!" Alex patted my chest patronizingly. "I've had plenty of time to grow it this past couple of years, while you weren't watching. A lot has changed, Dad." "Man, that must be as big as mine, like I told you that time." "Actually, I think it's bigger. I'm taller than you now, too. Size twelve feet, Dad, what did you expect?" "No shit? Let me see." I didn't mean his feet. I raised up and rolled over. Alex was grinning at me with pride. I lifted the covers to expose his mid-section. A gorgeous, thick, circumsized cock stared back at me, looking very much like mine. Only this one was my son's, and it was, indeed, a fraction longer and thicker than my own very substantial unit. "Damn. Way to go, Alex." "Nice, huh." "Nice is not the word. Awesome." He grinned even wider. We both lay on our backs, and my dick was soaring navel-ward, too, just like his. One hard-on in the room always brings on others. "Dad," Alex began. "Yeah, Buddy?" "I do realize how lonesome you have been this past year. I have been, too. And there's so much hard about it—this empty side of the bed, and what that represents. Look, I know you and mom had sex just about every day. I'm not blind and deaf, you know. It's O. K., I'm proud of you, both of you. It doesn't gross me out at all. You're my inspiration, my role model, Man." "Well, I'm glad you aren't grossed out. Yes, it's been a rough time alright." "O. K., I need to say this. I think it's time for you to get back in the saddle, Dad. You need a sexual outlet." "Oh, Alex, it isn't that easy, Bud. I'm not even fully functional yet. No way I could start dating. It wouldn't be fair—to anyone." I paused, reflecting. Then, I decided just to blurt it out. "I might as well tell you, before you go to plotting anything. Alex, I won't be marrying again. Once was enough for me. There won't be another woman in my life." "I know, Dad, and I know why." "What do you mean?" "Dad, I know you're gay. It's O. K., it's better than O. K. `Cause I am, too." That was a double bomb-shell! I was speechless. "Dad, Mom told me, right after she got so sick. I told her I thought I was gay, because I wanted her to know, while I could, you know? Because I could see she wasn't getting any better. She handled it super well. She kind of already knew. She knew everything, didn't she? She told me you were, too, even though the two of you had a great sex life, and she said we should take care of one another. What do you think she meant by that? I even told her how, at school, there were people calling me "McQueery" instead of my real last name "McCrary." She said that just showed how brainless and unimaginative the cretins really were. It helped me, to talk with her." I was tearing up again. "I'm glad you did. You needed someone to talk to. It hurts me that I was not available to you then. But I doubt if I would have shared with you then what she did." "It's O. K., Dad. It was as it needed to be then. You were in no shape to bear my burdens at that time. You were too scared shitless for Mom." "Yeah, she was always braver about it than I was." "Or me." He rested his hand on my upper thigh. "Dad, there are ways I can partly take Mom's place for you, help you manage it anyway. Not just in the kitchen and the laundry room, I mean. Here, too." He was looking over at me earnestly. I pulled myself up to a sitting position. This was going to take more presence of mind and finesse than I presently had access to, but it had to be faced, right then. "Hon, are you having sex with anyone now? Lately, I mean?" Alex sat up too, his dick partly deflating and lying like a whole pepperoni across his thigh. Mine was similar. "I have done. A few times." "And?" "Only three guys, all my age. School guys, team-mates. I guess that's how the word got out about `McQueery.' Though I also can't always control where my eyes roam, I know you'll understand that. Since you've been busted a few times yourself." We chuckled together. He went on. "I know I like it, Dad, a lot. All of it. I like sucking cock. I like fucking ass. I like rimming ass. I really like having a big dick up my ass. Aaron Dickenson, appropriately named, is the only one I've met remotely as hung as us, but he really knows how to send me to the sky. I hope this is not too graphic for you, but I want you to know, and I don't know any other way to say it." "I'm getting the picture fine. O. K., I have some things to say, too, very important. So listen up. Let me get my head on straight." My son raised up and sat with me, leaning against the headboard, as I collected my thoughts, our feet extended. Sure enough, the kid had size twelves now. Mine were only tens. "O. K., first and foremost: I love you, with all my heart, more than any other living soul. I do hope to God you understand that." He nodded. "I do. I've always known it." "Second, never, ever feel bad about yourself, or who you are, the stuff you're made of. I'm so glad you told your mom what you did, so she had the chance to tell you what she did, and so you wouldn't have to wonder how she would feel about you. My love for you is in no way diminished by what you've said to me tonight, never could be, ever. I'm bowled over by your courage and your honesty. I'm so proud of you right now. As always. "Third, you're right about me. I've never said this, out loud or even in my own head, but I know it's true, like your Mom knew `way ahead of me: I am gay, always have been, really, mostly anyway. I like guys, just like you do. I like all the things you like about them. Your mom and I did have a, er, very active sex life, but I confess I was never attracted to any other woman, though I had plenty of opportunities to explore that. "Fourth, you are one hell of a handsome, sexy," (I almost said, `boy,' which would have ruined the whole speech) "young man, Alex—-but you ARE my son, Bud. I changed your diapers!" Alex interrupted my little speech. "Dad, I'm not a kid. We aren't talking about you taking advantage of a little virgin boy, here." "Of course, not, I realize that. And that would never fly-- I have to tell you, I'm not into really young guys sexually. "So the bottom line is: I love and value you, and I appreciate your offer more than you can imagine. I am not putting you down for it, not at all. You are always welcome in my bed, even with that big pole of yours in the way." He smiled a little, though he knew I was turning him down. "We just cannot have sex. I'm too afraid it could fuck up our relationship permanently. I don't need a mercy-fuck, Son, I'll handle my sex life on my own. Can you be O. K. with that? Do you understand?" Alex shrugged. He was disappointed, I could tell, and I was immensely flattered by that. "Well, I wasn't thinking of it as a mercy-fuck. More like a love-fuck. And I would never tell anyone, Dad." "Oh, I know that, for sure. What I'm saying is, I think I love you too much to have sex with you, no matter how incredibly hot looking and wonderful you are." "How `bout if we say, `No, not tonight,' rather than just `No." "We'll see," I sighed. This could get difficult to resist. Both of us now had full erections. "Now, meantime, don't be a monk, but do be careful, O. K.? Keep to yourself what you need to, talk to me about what you need to. I'm on your side, Buddy, always. Clear?" "One condition," he said. "Name it." "You do the same. Especially the `don't be a monk' part. I need to know you will come out of your shell for me, and for yourself." I smiled. "Promise. But remember, I can't just go up to guys I fancy and say, `Wanna fuck?' any more than you can. So cut me some slack, will you?" "To a point. At some point, if you don't follow through on this, I'll go up to hot guys and say, `Wanna fuck my dad?' I'll give you three months." We both laughed. It was the most I'd laughed in a long time. "And one other comment," Alex declared. "Yo." "I heard you say, `no sex for now, it's too icky.' I can live with that. I have to. But I'm not going to change my mind on this. It was not just a pity thing. It's a permanent offer, O. K." "Gotcha. Well, like I said, we'll see. Let me get back in the saddle on my own, first, please." We slid back down in the bed and fell asleep, wrapped in one another's beefy arms. * * * * * * * The next morning, I arose before Alex and made omelets. He came in, rubbing his eyes, and embraced me from behind, resting his head on my shoulder. For early morning, his manly gear was surprisingly well-behaved. "I love you, Dad." I wanted to cry again, but there had been too much of that. I sucked it up, turned, and kissed him tenderly. "Don't tell me that more than twelve times a day," I warned. "'K," he answered. "You gotta show me how to do those omelets. Case you crash again." He had a mischievous glint in his eye. "I'll be glad to. A gay man better know his way around a kitchen. Our public has expectations of us." We enjoyed our breakfast in companionable quiet. Then Alex rose. "I'll go tend to the horses. After that, I'm going to clean the walls of the pool. They've gotten kind of skuzzy." I experienced another pang of shame. I'd forgotten we even had horses, for the past year. The poor things would've died a horrible death if it had been up to me. Maybe my mom was right! "Let's do it together, for a change. Both things." Alex leaned in to kiss me again. "Awesome. Let's do it!" We had the most pleasant morning of the past year and a half, working together in boots only in the stable, naked in the pool. Alex chatted happily throughout, about his classes, his school friends, his soccer squad (he'd become mainly interested in that sport lately, though he still played baseball for the school team). He'd applied to the Ag department of the Cow College nearby, as I was dimly aware, and he'd be leaving me in the Fall to take up his studies in pre-Veterinary Medicine. His high school graduation was approaching fast. I asked him about Aaron Dickenson, his studly top, and he assured me that there was nothing serious there, just some highly fulfilling sex play. "He's really just about straight, Dad. He'll wind up married to some cute chick, once he finds one that can handle that big piece of meat he's got. It's almost as big as mine or yours. Amazing how a man can take a bigger one than a girl, isn't it?" "Don't be so sure, Cocky. Remember, babies come out of theirs, but only big, fat turds come out of ours." Alex guffawed. "Well, I know I like big ones," he said. "Yeah, so do I," I agreed. That was the most I'd ever said on that score, and Alex smiled happily. We were back to our old, familiar selves, only much raunchier. I think we both liked it, being single, adult, gay men together. * * * * * * * My life at that point resumed a new and more comfortable routine. I called a meeting of the business staff, at which I commended everyone for their heroic work during the period of my incapacity, and promised I was back and would be more involved than ever. It was a tribute to Sherry's great management that they had held it all together for the past year. I passed out several promotions to worthy employees, and solicited input on how to make the outfit operate better and more efficiently. I began a schedule of interviewing all the employees individually, to get to know them, to find out their gifts, interests, and dreams. Morale mushroomed, and productivity soared. I got back into my exercise regime, and though I felt weak as a baby possum at first, my strength began to surge again surprisingly quickly. Alex was often in the exercise room with me, and we enjoyed the camaraderie of working out together more than ever. Now, if either of us wanted to gaze raptly at the other's ass, we just did it, without reserve. It was a whole new world for us. Coming in from the town office, I stopped off out at the stable one late spring afternoon, to find Alex exercising his jumper in the ring. He had actually put on some shorts with his boots for riding, which was unusual, and I wondered if he'd gotten tired of sitting on his scrotum while he rode. Other than that, we both loved riding nude. But then I saw the other horse just outside the fence of the ring, partly hidden by a shrub, with a shirtless rider astride. He took off his hat to wipe away sweat, and I recognized him. It was Brack, short for Braxton, Henderson, our next-door neighbor boy, though next door was over a half-mile away. Brack was a class ahead of Alex, and already a freshman at State. Their semester had just ended, and presumably, he was home for the summer. He'd been on the tee-ball team I'd coached for Alex many years earlier, where it was clear already that he was not merely a natural athlete, as Alex was, but he was a natural "star" athlete. He'd been the high school's hot-shot stud football quarterback (and a four-sport letterman), and was still a serious contender for "Most Formidable Physique" in our county. Only a questionable knee had kept him out of the running for a football scholarship. I hadn't seen him for two or three years, and never shirtless, as far as I recalled. But I'd heard reports. His torso was magnificent, a work of art. He was intently watching Alex put Toulouse through his paces over the hurdle course in our ring. Toulouse was looking good, and so was Alex. Luckily, having just come back from a meeting, I was decently clothed. Most days, I'd have been starkers. I strolled over to the fence to say `hello.' Brack was poised and polite, the complete self-assured University gentleman, seemingly mature beyond his years. He told me that he had ridden over the previous afternoon, surprising Alex exercising Toulouse in the nude. He thought that was hysterical. "You got a nice, private place, here, Mr. Mick," he commented. "Mr. Mick" was what all the boys had called me from early days, since "Mr. McCrary" was more trouble and seemed so formal. He'd been impressed with what he saw going on in the ring. His own mount, Barberry, was new to him, a thoroughbred/Arabian mix, and he had bought him with the idea of taking up jumping with him, as he knew Alex already did in competition, on Toulouse. He'd come by before, hoping to speak to Alex about help with training this summer. Today, he'd actually made an appointment, which explained Alex's shorts. Alex was to help him get started working with Barberry in the ring. Brack swung gracefully down off the big horse and stood beside me. He emanated an amazing physical energy, sexual even. I was taken aback. This boy had been a gangly sophomore the last time I saw him. Now, he was a strikingly handsome man. I had to keep reminding myself he was just a first-year collegian, older than Alex, but still, no more than nineteen. Why was I even thinking those thoughts? I'd have to watch myself with this one. But on the ground, I could see that Brack was about six feet two, two inches taller than me, one taller than Alex. If I had guns, he had cannons. His chest was smooth and hairless (shaved?), and tanned to a perfect turn. He had amazing pecs, with cute little tits that cried out, "Suck me, lick me!" His strong jaw, full set of sparkling teeth, slightly Roman nose, and neat ears made for a model-handsome face. But those eyes! I was instantly enraptured. They were like lasers in glowing blue. I felt like a buffoon, stuttering and stammering in brief responses as he spoke. He smiled at me amiably. I thought, he gets this a lot, I bet. Alex came up, leading Toulouse. "Ready?" he asked. I took Toulouse's reins from him and offered to walk the horse a bit to cool him down, while Alex focused on Brack and his mount. I needed to get out of there before I grabbed the guy's crotch or something. I needed to catch my breath. I watched as Alex adjusted the barriers so that they were only a foot high, so that Barberry would be more comfortable jumping than stepping over, but he would not be frightened of them. He put the horse on a long lead and began to guide him around the ring, riderless, gracefully leaping the small obstacles. "I think he's got it, Brack," I heard him say confidently. "I think you have yourself a jumper here." "And a trainer, too, I hope. Will you take us on?" "Let me talk to Dad about it, see if he objects. But I want to, Brack. It'll be fun, and a nice challenge." "I'll pay you, of course. It'll be a lot of work." There was just a note of hesitancy in his voice then. "I don't want your money, Brack. I'm sure we can work something out, to mutual satisfaction..." Alex's voice faded out as I led Toulouse into the stable, where I spent some time rubbing him down, thinking of my son making a deal with that amazing hunk outside. Alex was probably pawning off some of his chores on the neighbor boy. But the horse's stall was clean—Alex was keeping up with his duties nicely. Still, we had four horses, and I was sure Alex could use more help around the place. I took a moment to visit with my own horse, Mayfair, who had been criminally neglected lately, by me, though I knew Alex and some of his friends had been exercising him. Sherry's mount, Commander, was nickering at me, too, and her retired show horse, Admiral. When I came out, the boys were gone. I headed back to the house, where all was quiet. I supposed Brack had left. I went to my room, stripped, washed up, and returned to the kitchen, where I slid a refrigerated chicken casserole into the oven. It had its own rice and broccoli, so that was all there was to making dinner. Alex entered through the back door, naked, dripping wet. "We're out of towels at the pool house," he said. We usually showered out there in decent weather when we came in from outdoor chores and activities. I got him a towel from the downstairs guest bath, and he dried himself vigorously. He sent out very satisfied vibes somehow. Something was up. "Nice to see Brack again," I hazarded. Alex grinned smugly. "Um hum," he assented. I was going to have to work for it. "We haven't been much on his route lately, have we? That I know of, anyway." "Well, he's just back from school. Before that, remember, he was older than me and, you know, stud quarterback and all that. Way out of my league. I mean, he was high school royalty. At the pinnacle of the pecking order. He could hang with anybody he wanted to." "Apparently, he wants to hang with you." "Starting yesterday." "So, what happened, you think?" "Well, he quit being stud senior quarterback and dropped to lowly frosh, I guess, for one thing. I'm not sure, but I'll just go through some recent events, and you tell me what you think. First, last Saturday, we blasted Middleway, and as you saw, I was kind of the team star, with those two kick-ass runs I hit. Very impressive, if I may say so." "You certainly may, and they were." While soccer was Alex's main sport these days, he was still playing baseball, too, and he was having a great year as second baseman for his team. His batting had been superb lately. "Well, Brack was there, just finished his finals. He came over after the game, and leaned on the fence to talk to me. He complimented me on my game and, get this, on my physical development! He said whatever I'm doing in training is obviously really working, and good going! "I told him about our home gym, and he said he'd like to see it sometime. I said, `Sure, anytime, come on by.' He also told me about his old horse's death, and about Barberry. His Saddlebred, Jazz, died, very sad, he stepped in a gopher hole. I suggested I'd like to see Barberry, too. "Next, yesterday, he just came by, out of the blue, riding that new horse of his. There I was, buck naked, kind of in the zone, you know, taking Toulouse around the ring. Brack must have sat there a few minutes, just watching, and kind of laughing. Finally, he wolf-whistled me. I almost fell off the horse, probably would have if I'd known who it was. I thought it was you. I was so embarrassed! But he was just smiling. "'Nice form!' he hollered. `Thanks,' I yelled back. `I meant the horse,' he yelled. I could have died. But then he really laughed and said, `No, really, I meant you, too. But he is a nice horse. You're both lookin' good." So I rode over and said, `Let me get some shorts on. Should be some in the stable somewhere.' And he said, `No, not for me. I'm used to the locker room, Man. Besides, I'll tell you a secret nobody knows, I mean nobody. I like to ride naked, too. But I can only do it in that back part of our pasture, behind the hedge row, and only when my folks are away. You're so lucky to have such a private place here.' I said, `I have a feeling my dad planned it that way. `Cause if he shows up out here in a minute, he'll likely be naked, too. Just so you're prepared.' He laughed again and said, `Hey, no problem. Next time I come over, I'll ride the back way and show up naked, too.' He laughed, like he was not really serious, just being cool about it. "Then he got around to what he came for, his new horse, which he thinks, and I do, too, now, could be a good jumper. He's tired of the conformation ring, and he wants to go into field events, when he can during college, and after. By the way, he's studying Equine Management. We may have some classes together next year, now and then. He seemed interested in me going into Equine Medicine. He knew I was training Toulouse, and seeing me last weekend reminded him. So he came over to see how I trained. It was getting time to finish the chores, so he asked if he could come back today, and so he did. I was ready for him this time, and I had my shorts on. I noticed he did NOT show up naked. By the way, I'm glad you were dressed, too, I should have warned you in case you came by. Sorry about that. But I really don't think Brack would have cared. "So this is where the story turns disreputable. Dad, I kind of embroidered the truth some. A good bit. I kind of let on that I trained Toulouse myself. I left out all the part of you really doing it, until we were way far along in it. I implied that I could manage Barberry's training, too, with just an occasional nod from you. Now, I'm so embarrassed. I don't know what made me do that. Well, I do know—Brack's amazing hotness, and popularity. To get him to spend any time with me, `McQueery,' is a major coup, Dad! And if there was any chance of getting into his pants, or even just getting them off of him, it would be worthwhile." "Don't sell yourself short, Alex. You were doing very well today, with Barberry's first lesson. And he looks like the kind of horse that will practically train himself, make you look good. He likes to jump, I can tell." "Will you help me, Dad, kind of on the sly? Just check out what Barberry is doing, and clue me in what to do next?" "Of course." But that would put me in The Presence, and that might not be so easy. I might have to buy some really strong jocks. "But wait, there's more, as they say. This may ruin the whole deal for you. Because you may think it's completely sordid. Well, actually, it IS." "Spill." "Brack offered to pay me as a trainer. I think it was an honor-offer, you know, where he feels like he has to, but he hopes I'll turn him down? Because I don't think his family has all that much money, despite the land and the new horse and all. Just an impression I get, from some comments he's made, but after all, the guy is a college student. And I don't mind, because I don't need the money. I even have that pretty good scholarship for next year. But Dad, here's where I got crazy. This could have really blown up in my face, I guess it could still, but so far, so good. I told Brack we could work something out." "Yeah, I heard that part. And sure, some people live for a long time beyond their means. Could be true, about the family finances." "Well, he was interested, as I expected, in some sort of in-kind payment. So I just came out with it. `You remember those guys laughing and calling me "McQueery" a year or so ago?' I asked. He laughed, and said, `Damn, that was cold, Man. I'd almost forgotten about that.' And I said, `Well, they were right, really. I am. Queer, I mean. Just so you know.' `O. K.,' he said, `I can handle that, I guess.' So I said, `Yeah, well I know you're not gay, so don't worry about that. But here's what I want, instead of money. I want you to have sex with me on at least a weekly basis while I work with you and Barberry.' See, I told you it was sordid. I was scared shitless, afraid he'd just punch me out on the spot. He got real quiet, and I thought, man it's all over now, I have to move to Mongolia. I figured he was thinking about how best to thrash me. Then, he said, `Swear to me you will never tell a soul about this.' I said, `I swear. I have almost as much at stake as you.' Of course, I didn't mean including you. And he said, "O. K., true confessions. If you had wanted money, I'd have been up shit creek, `cause I don't have any. I was just hoping I could clean your stalls for you or something. But damn. I hate cleaning stalls. Sex, I like. With girls, anyway, never had a guy, but what the hell. So what did you have in mind? You want me to suck your dick?' That last was kind of dubious, like that would be a tough choice, but he'd do it if he had to. I said, `Not unless you want to. What I had in mind was, me sucking YOUR dick. And, look, I know you get all the pussy you can handle, but this is important to me-- I want you to fuck my ass.' His jaw dropped. `Are you out of your fuckin' mind?' he asked. `Man, you obviously have never seen my cock.' Well, no, I hadn't, but I'd heard about it. So he continues, `And no, I don't get all that much pussy, for that same reason. Girls take one look at it and suddenly they have to go home right then! I can't even get a decent blow-job. I've actually never HAD a decent blow-job, to be perfectly honest! Not that there is such a thing as a really BAD one, long as she doesn't bite the damn thing off, but shit--it's just too big for them.' `Well, there we can help one another out,' I said. `I'm motivated to work on it. Deal?' He still looked kind of in shock, but he shrugged and said, `Deal.'" "I'm not sure which one is the prostitute here, him or you," I opined. "Me neither, and I don't care." "When does this fucking and sucking begin?" Alex actually blushed. "Um, this afternoon. Out back of the pool house, I blew him to seal the bargain. He was right, the thing is huge, and it's going to take some practice. I did my best, but couldn't take very much of it. The head alone completely fills my whole mouth. But he loved it, said it was the best he ever had, by far. Must be my patented tongue action. He'll be back for more. Tomorrow, actually. Training for Barberry first, then sex in my room. Unless that freaks you out too much." "It's your life, Alex. The guy's a hunk, no doubt about that. I'll make myself scarce in the late afternoon, maybe just stay in my own room." Alex kissed me on the lips. "You are the greatest dad in the entire world," he declared. "I mean it. Thanks, Dad." "Alex...um...how was it, trying to take such a big one?" I asked. He grinned and flicked his eyebrows at me. "Makes Aaron Dickenson look like a little boy. I mean, my jaws are still sore. But great. It was great, Dad. He shoots one hell of a load, too." Ouch, TMI, I thought, even though I did ask. The oven buzzer went off, and I turned toward the kitchen to rescue the casserole. But then it struck me. "Alex, one little thing, since you asked for my opinion. If I didn't know better, I'd say it looks like Brack may be interested in you. Those comments he made. And he agreed to your little plan awfully easily, for a straight stud." "Yeah, Dad. In my dreams." To be continued...... For those who ask, I'm attaching a list of my stories posted on Nifty, with approximate posting dates. Story List* ENCOUNTERS The Hitcher (September, 2001) COLLEGE The Roomie (September, 2001) The Association (October, 2006) RURAL The Farm Boy (September, 2001) Ah! Nature! (September, 2001) Bare-Ass Horseman (September, 2001) INCEST The Special Services Division (November, 2010) TLC (MAY, 2015) Insatiable (May, 2015) HIGH SCHOOL The Bryant Series (October, 2001) AUTHORITARIAN The Harem, (October 2001) Can't Rape the Willing (December, 2010) RELATIONSHIPS Closets (December, 2005) *Dates are approximate and may occur to beginning date rather than final episode.