Rabbit Hole

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO: – Christopher Atkins – The Sequel

By Quentin Collins (hauptwerk88@gmail.com)

© BJB Conglomerated Media

 

This story is fictitious and takes place in a fantastic realm where inconvenient physical, biological, medical, legal, and moral strictures don't exist. It is intended only for the entertainment of those who are legally permitted to access and read it.

This work is my first attempt at storytelling, so please be gentle in your criticism, lest you make me cry.

Another thing that makes me cry is the thought that Nifty might go away if we don't support it. Think of the hours of fun you've had on this site. Isn't it worth the price of a movie ticket every month or even every quarter to keep it going? Donate here.

 

The morning traffic was thrumming along the interstate as my son and I continued in the moving van to our new home in South Carolina. Channing asked me to fill him in on the backstory of my childhood and how he came to be.

Before continuing with another story about how I came to realize I was gay while having sex with his mother, I took a moment to let my right hand wander around his face and upper body. His arms and shoulders were always powerfully built, but his chest has begun to fill out more now too. I quickly scanned his body, not wanting to distract myself from the dense traffic on the highway. Chan's tight flat stomach made a lovely resting place for his flaccid five-inch penis. His glans just barely visible inside his foreskin.

I rubbed his chest and belly with my flat palm and let my hand rest on his belly, feeling his relaxed breathing. All the while he continued to kiss my foreskin and occasionally flicked his tongue out to get a taste.

I looked at my son's face. There's no more beautiful sight in creation than to see my penis resting on his cheek, the tip just reaching his full lips. His eyes sparkled as he looked up at me, filled with love. His face was surrounded by his thick golden blond ringlets.

How am I so blessed with such a beautiful son and lover?

"Dad, tell me more about how you found out you were gay and your crush on Christopher Atkins."

"OK, bunny. Remember I told you how I blasted myself with cum when I thought of Christopher Atkins, but nothing happened when I thought about women? Here's the next part of the story."

 

   _   _   _   _   _   _  

 

I decided that, scientifically, I would need more data points in my masturbatory fantasy study before determining whether or not I was gay. I lay naked on my bed preparing myself to help the cause of science.

I spent a couple more minutes clearing my head, checking the clock to verify that I had plenty of time before either of my parents got home.

I lightly traced around the spongy glans of my cock with a fingertip, and then ran two fingertips along the underside of my shaft, reveling in the sensation as I drifted into my fantasy. I imagined lying naked alongside Christopher Atkins on an isolated beach. Our own Blue Lagoon.

We are lying side by side in the dappled shade of a stand of palm trees, with him to my right. The warm ocean breeze keeps us comfortable and reminds us of our nakedness as it wafts over our exposed bodies, tickling our skin in random places.

I reach over to give his penis the same treatment I had been administering to my own, admiring the elegant genitals and sun-bronzed body of the 19-year-old beauty. I could gaze at him for hours. He spends most of his time naked, so his sun-enhanced glow is uninterrupted from head to toe.

His foreskin doesn't quite cover his glans. I roll toward him, maintaining a languid stroke on his penis with one hand while tracing his freckled and slightly upturned nose with the other. His erection is growing as I coax his foreskin back with a gentle grip.

I run my fingers along his jaw and slip down to stroke the tight round mounds of his chest.

My own erection is now pressed into his hip. He wriggles subconsciously to return a portion of the pleasure I am offering him.

As I start to flick his left nipple, he recoils a bit. I realize the poor boy has been stuck on this island without company or counsel, and with hardly a stitch to wear. Everything is new to him. It is new to me too. We are both ready for some experiential education.

As I continue to strum his left nipple with my thumb, he succumbs to the never-experienced pleasure I am offering him. He turns his head toward me with a shy smile, dimples creasing both cheeks, as he slowly pulls up his arms and rests them over his head, crossed at the wrist.

This incredible young man has wordlessly submitted himself to me, offering his bare body without shame or hesitation for me to do as I will. It was more than opening to me. It was the unfurling of a flower longing to be pollinated.

He doesn't close his eyes. Instead, we maintain our gaze. The yearning in his eyes tells me he wants me to know that his total submission to me is willful: he will offer no defense, and he will place no limitations on me. He is happy to allow me to offer him pleasure or pain as I desire.

I desire to excruciate him for a bit, knowing that it will please him to offer me his pain for my entertainment.

I pick up some sand from the beach and start rubbing it over his erect nipple, slowly increasing the pressure and making sure there is enough grit to irritate his nub.

All the while I am maintaining a slow teasing of his penis. His six-inch erection throbs slightly, and a small stream of pre-ejaculate runs down his now-exposed head.

I continue to abrade his nipple.

He gasps as the pain tests his endurance, but offers no protest. In fact, he nods at me as his eyes begin to water, reinforcing that this is what he wants.

Without warning, I scratch the thumbnail of my other hand across his piss slit. He hisses out a quivering, "Yes" as his back arches, but his arms remain relaxed, unwilling to show any inhibition.

My abuse of him is his great pleasure. He wills his respirations back to a normal rhythm.

Christopher bends his knees outward slightly to reinforce that his entire beautiful body is his gift to me. I am pleased to accept it.

I decide to start pleasuring him for a while. I brush the sand off his sculpted torso and roll so that I am three-quarters on top of him.

Our erections meet, we mutually lubricate our frottage with generous amounts of our Cowper's fluid.

My lips are millimeters from his. His yearning is palpable, but he remains erotically passive, allowing me to make contact or not.

I stick out my tongue and lick his lips, not yet entering his mouth. He hums in gratitude. I repeat that several times, leaving varying lengths of time between licks so that he will never know when it might have been the last one.

Eventually, I rest my lips gently on his. He waits for my next move, unwilling to interrupt or hurry my actions. I tilt my head to kiss his freckled cheeks and then return to his mouth, massaging his lips with mine for several moments, then finally slipping my tongue inside, feeling the soft yet powerful texture of his tongue.

He allows me to explore his mouth at my leisure, sliding his tongue along mine when he senses that is my desire, but making no attempt to enter my mouth.

He tastes vaguely like coconut and pineapple. I taste every corner of his mouth over and over, making sure not to miss a molecule of his manly sweetness.

I explore all the textures in his mouth: his slowly writhing tongue, the hardness and smoothness of his teeth, the firmness of his gums. I flick both his upper and lower frenula.

I slide my tongue along the outside of his bottom teeth to enjoy the contrast of his inner cheek against the smooth enamel. I proceed to examine the entire surface of his cheeks

I feel him moving his arms. He has simply changed position so that now his left wrist is resting on his right. He stretches a bit, causing a small wave to start at his shoulders and move down to his chest, his stomach, his groin, thighs and finally his feet. It reminds me of his openness.

His lithe, muscular body feels wonderful against mine. We are lightly perspiring in the tropical warmth despite the constant breeze. He relishes my weight upon him. He is still content for me to dominate his mouth with no desire to reciprocate.

I explore the underside of his tongue, digging the tip of mine behind his front teeth to get the freshest sweet saliva from his sublingual duct. I am intoxicated by it.

Finally, I encourage his tongue forward and suck on it, letting him know that I want him to taste me now. He is compliant. He would not be otherwise.

He expertly tours my mouth with his tongue, always gentle and somehow indicating his next move to give me the opportunity to veto. There is no need. His every movement is exquisite, unhurried, and sensual. His instincts are spot on. His unpracticed technique is elegant and assured.

Our mouths have been joined for ten minutes now, and there is a substantial volume of our mixed saliva.

I slowly remove my lips from his, letting my mouth hang agape as a thick string of saliva joins us. I stop a few inches above him and stare into his eyes, my mouth still open. His intensely blue eyes sparkle in the filtered sunlight. Now I know how the lagoon gets its color.

I offer him my drool for a minute. I seemed to have produced a notable amount of it as a gift for him. He manages to swallow a couple times without closing his mouth. He makes a slight guttural sound which excites me.

He looks so happy to surrender to me.

I shift so that I am now straddling him, yet keeping our penises together. Each of our cocks multiplies the beauty of the other. I admire them for a moment, my circumcised one next to his intact one, knowing that the fates intend for them to stay together forever.

When I look up again, I notice that Chris is still looking into my eyes, reading my soul. He will not look away even to admire his own manly beauty. He has no interest in watching what I am doing or trying to anticipate my next move. He gladly accepts anything at all that I desire to do.

I desire to taste and sniff his beautiful right underarm. There is a light amount of blond hair in there, and it smells amazingly fresh as if he just got out of an herbal bath.

He brings his right shoulder forward slightly to make it easier for me to luxuriate in his pit for a while. His perspiring skin is the perfect substrate to create a flavorful erotic elixir, and I make certain to get every bit of flavor I can and then slide down to his right nipple.

All the while I am still rubbing my erect penis against his, feeling the blood coursing through both.

I hunch down a bit to better access is nipple without breaking the contact of our cocks. This causes my ass to open, and I enjoy the sensation of the ocean breeze tickling my anus.

As I suck and lingually stimulate Chris's right nipple, I feel his penis throbbing out more precum. He squeals almost inaudibly.

I caress the nub with my lips as he puffs out his chest. I notice the red irritation of his left nipple. I decide to offer him pleasure and pain simultaneously.

After a few minutes of stimulating his right nipple, I remove my mouth and pinch his left nipple, digging my fingernails into his flesh as I twist it this way and that.

Chris never averts his eyes and never changes his passive posture even as he stifles a roar from the pain I was causing him.

His eyes beg for more. I twist again and pull hard on the tortured erect nipple. While stimulating his left nipple with my right hand and his penis with my own, I decide to give him even more to feel. His expression tells me he is going to another plane of consciousness.

I reach back with my left hand to caress his scrotum. I play with the lightly haired balls and then pinch the skin on the back of his scrotum. I do not engage my nails yet, but rub the skin between my thumb and middle finger with increasing pressure.

He brings his heels up with his knees out to the sides to give me complete access. I smile at him to appreciate his openness.

I start to move around his scrotum, sometimes pinching moderately, other times quite powerfully. I occasionally use my fingernails to cause him more pain.

His face is turning red in response to the building pain, and I can tell he is fighting with everything he has not to yell out. Perspiration is matting his curly blond hair and beading on his face.

And yet his eyes continue to encourage me.

He accepts all the pain I inflict in him. His willing acceptance of it is his gift to me. The more pain I inflict on him, the more complete is his surrender to me. He wants to be even more generous in his submission.

I move my right hand to his right nipple and repeat the torture I offered to his left. I lift my hips slightly and use just the tip of my penis with its constant flow of precum to massage the underside of his, slowly moving up the length of his shaft and making small circles on his penile frenulum.

The combination of pleasure and pain is beginning to overload this magnificent boy.

I flick my left thumbnail at the back of his balls repeatedly with as much force as I could summon, while using my other fingers to scratch his perineum. He is returning everything to me through his passivity.

I feel his balls start to rise. It is time. I bring a hand to each nipple and twist while pulling out.

Chris's penis suddenly increases in size and erupts. He howls as he ejaculates. The first volley flies over his head, leaving a trail in the sand, on his forehead, and in his sweaty curly hair.

I sit up quickly and start scratching his rib cage on either side as I continue to rub the tip of my penis against his. Three more ropes of cum land on his face. I pull at the hairs of his underarms. Another four volleys work their way down his abdomen which was heaving violently as I scratch around his waist and flat stomach.

As my fingernails scrape through the cum on his stomach, it caves in showing his ribs.

Ejaculate is still flowing out of his beautiful penis as I look up, surprised that his arms remained over his head as unguarded as ever. He is still staring into my eyes, seeking approval and conveying longing through the haze of his orgasmic euphoria.

Even in such a state, he is open to being used by me however I desired.

He pants, "Thank you. Thank you. Thank you."

I feel my own orgasm approach, and I slide up a bit so that I can rub my erection through the ejaculate on his abdomen. As soon as he senses what I am doing, he wills himself to stop panting and pushes out his belly to give me something firm to rub against.

I lock my elbows and brace myself on his chest and start my own spurts of semen. I add three ropes of cum to Christopher's face and then spray globs all over his chest and abdomen.

The last two or three globs simply add to the pool of our mixed cum through which I was sliding my penis.

We are both still hard but exhausted.

Chris finally breaks our gaze as he surveys my dripping erection.

"Thank you for using me for your pleasure. If there is any other way that I can offer myself to you, I am eager to do anything you request."

I answer, "Thank you, Christopher, for being so generous with your splendid body. You have been perfect. I look forward to spending more time with you."

His cum-covered eyebrows raise up.

"You know my name?"

"Yes, Mr. Atkins, I do. But you needn't trouble yourself with mine."

Chris looks at my persistent erection while allowing himself to pant once more in recovery.

"Please use me as a pillow for a while and then allow me to pleasure you again if you'd like."

I lie down fully on him, feeling our mixed cum spread between us. He finally brings his arms down from his submissive posture to embrace me and stroke me slowly from my shoulders, down my back, to my buttocks and then back up again. It is a sensual emollient. I rub my face on his cum-covered face, close my eyes and relax into sleep.

With that, I was returned to my own bedroom. I was soaked in cum. I swear there was so much that it must have belonged to both Chris Atkins and me.

My hair was matted down with cum. I wiped some away from my eyes.

 

   _   _   _   _   _   _  

 

"Oh, dad. I'm cumming, dad. Oh, it's so good!"

I was jarred away from my story by hearing Channing moan out his orgasm and feeling him ejaculate on my arm as he masturbated along to my story.

I looked down to see a rope of cum land on his forehead and make its way down his face to my hand. I smiled at his pleasure. I saw that my own penis was standing its full nine inches tall, liberally leaking precum, much of which coated my son's face.

My eyes darted back and forth from the road to Chan as about a dozen more ropes of cum came flying out of his ten-inch long fat penis. Channing had grown an inch in both length and girth since this morning. Our guides must have been pleased to offer this enhancement to him, honoring my request that he have something more than Victor, Cody and I to show his preeminence among us.

We both began feeding ourselves from the abundant load covering Chan's face, chest, and abdomen. It tasted very much like pineapple and coconut, just like Christopher Atkins in my teenage fantasy. We couldn't get enough and soon had him cleaned up.

I rubbed his belly as I asked him, "Do you like your even bigger penis, Bunny? Our spirit friends must have decided you should have it."

Channing held and caressed his enormous phallus as he studied it from every angle. He examined his scrotum too.

"Dad, I think it's beautiful. I hope you will like it in your throat and rectum. I think it's going to give you a lot of pleasure. Look, my balls are bigger too. I hope I won't drown you with cum."

I laughed. "That would be a wonderful way to pass on, Bunny. I'm sure your penis will give me exquisite pleasure. But being joined to your heart gives me indescribable pleasure, my love. I don't deserve all the love you bring into my life."

I better watch before I blind myself with tears and crash the truck.

"Oh, daddy. I love you more than I can say. But you're wrong, daddy: you do deserve all this love. Everyone does. It's just so sad that not everyone feels all the love they deserve to have.

"Daddy, I think we have to set a good example. We have to love everyone we meet. What good is love if it's not being shared? It's like water that's lying stagnant instead of flowing across the landscape to nourish everything it touches. Right daddy?

"You and I share a love that can nourish so many other people. We can't be selfish."

Tears trickled down my face as I felt every bit of love Channing talked about.

"Oh, Bunny, now I'm crying and can't see the road. I better pull over for a bit," I said.

"It's all right, daddy. We'll drive for a while."

Channing reached up and grabbed both my hands, enfolding them in his, caressing his ejaculate into my skin. Then he just closed his eyes and took over. The steering wheel moved on its own, and I felt the gas pedal depress without my having to do anything. I took my foot off the gas and just relaxed.

So, this is a thing now too? Channing and/or our friends make a truck self-driving? I sat back and tried to just enjoy the ride without questioning.

"Thank you, Bunny. I just need a couple of minutes. Are you doing fine? I don't want to stress you out."

"We are fine, daddy. Take as long as you want. Let me have your pretty penis."

Channing turned, while still driving the truck expertly and slid my nine-inch penis into his throat. It finally struck me that he was referring to himself in first person plural. Why? We went to the garden and saw our spirit guide friends.

I worried for our safety as we existed simultaneously in a moving truck and the spirit world, but our blond guide sat on his horse and told us not to worry since he had hold of the reins. I laughed and thanked him for all of the unknown ways he looked after us. He smiled at us.

I asked what we should call him. He asked what I would like to call him. I told him I would like to call him what he preferred to be called. I told him in my smartass way that we could go back and forth all day.

Our friend laughed and told us that, since there is no night in the garden, all day would be a very long time indeed. He let us know that he is called by many names. He said my ancestors in Poland and the Slavic lands called him the spirit of the gentle western wind and god of gentle love and compassion. They also called him the god of favorable weather. He is properly called Dogoda (DOH-go-dah).

"But you can call me Steve if you want," he joked with us.

We laughed with him, in the spirit realm. On earth, Chan was still deep-throating my cock to great effect. Channing and I both agreed we would call him Dogoda with respect and gratitude.

We asked Dogoda why we were chosen to be favored. He replied that we were not favored. But we were open to his presence unlike so many other people in the "modern" world. He communicated to us that my mother actually asked him to open our hearts to him, but there wasn't any need.

I told him that my mom is the best. He agreed. Dogoda asked what he could do for us. We didn't want anything except to enjoy his garden. I asked if this indeed were his garden.

He affirmed that it was his garden. He said he liked to call it the Garden of the Western Wind. We thanked him for generously sharing the beauty of the Garden of the Western Wind.

Chan and I laughed with him in delight and thanked him again for looking out for us. By this point, I was firing cum down my son's eager throat, and he was once again ejaculating all over himself.

Dogoda told us he would keep driving for a while until we calmed down. Chan and I thanked him once again and relaxed in our love for each other and our spirit friend.

Several minutes later I put my hands back on the wheel and Chan, and I came back from the Garden of the Western Wind. I felt refreshed, calm, loved, and sticky.

Chan had unleashed quite a load of cum on himself and me. He had released my penis and was lapping up the cum on my belly as we came back to earth. I started scooping up the prodigious amount of cum on his belly and fed on the coconut/pineapple concoction.

As I looked around at the traffic, I noticed a large rig to my left. A scruffy looking guy in the passenger seat, probably in his forties, was staring at us in disbelief. I gave him a friendly smile, and a wave as his rig passed us. I think we made his day.