My Water Baby

I never touched him while he was growing up. Well, not that way. Didn't even think about it. I'd fought with myself and won, back when the urges got so fucking strong, in the dorm at Howland Community College. Ended up suppressing everything. Quit dreaming about and masturbating over guys. Got me a fine woman -- after a couple of years of catting around. Settled down. Became the typical American middle aged, middle income, middle of the road, conservative cog in the wheels of commerce. I became assistant advertising director for May Lines and the father of a bouncing baby boy in 1976.

Not that IT was dead and buried. It. You know. That feeling you get when some guys, just acting friendly, give you a hug. And that sense, the ability to know you could connect when your eyes meet across a meeting hall. I'd smile, drop my eyes and avoid whomever. Or over drinks, or wherever he approached me, tell him no thanks, I had a lover.

Somehow that little lie, making Brena a guy, always popped out. Like I was avoiding the reality of being gay and being married when I got tempted. And I was. But I never gave in.

Then my son got drunk, flat out stoned, on his nineteenth birthday. Came home with his best buddy. Cal was loaded too. But not as bad as Danny. I knew they drank a little, had even caught the two of them smoking pot one time.

Danny swore, never again. I had no reason to not believe him. Beer was a different thing. But this was the first time I knew about any excess. I stayed in the living room, listening to them as Cal steered Danny down the stairs to Danny's room in the basement. Fell asleep watching the umpteenth running of 'The Dirty Dozen'.

When I woke the house was still, just the buzz of the TV. I clicked it off and, for some unknown reason went to check the boys.

Peeked in on Brena. She was just lying there, that mysterious little smile on her face. I kissed her cheek and gently closed the door. Didn't sneak downstairs. But the house was so quiet, I just automatically avoided being noisy.

I ran into clothes halfway down the stairs. Those two must have started stripping as soon as they hit the door in the kitchen. Danny's door was open. Caught under the bottom, where one of then had tried to pull it shut, was a pair of briefs.

There they were sprawled across the bed, two young and virile bodies -- locked in sleep in the most provocative embrace. Cal still had one shoe on. Danny's boxers were dangling off a leg. His arms were hugging Cal's hips and his face was nuzzled into his best buddy's crotch. They hadn't even made it under the covers.

Cal let out a low little moan. I froze. Then I noticed how he was still connected to my son in his sleep with what seemed to be a damn high degree of familiarity, Cal -- little innocent Cal; star linebacker for Harrison High. That fucking blond , blue eyed, buffed body; Cal was nursing on Danny's cock.

I guess I knew what I was going to find when I kicked that first tee shirt on down the basement stairs. Why, or how I knew I couldn't tell you. It was just I wasn't shocked or surprised standing there watching my son and Calvin Bishop snoring in each other's arms.

I was turned on. My pajama bottoms were tenting out over a wild boner. It got even stiffer when Cal rolled his head, tugging Danny's prick. I watched my son's penis grow stiffer. Danny's pelvis thrust. Cal moaned, louder this time, and began stroking his mouth on Danny's now fully erect organ.

I found my hand was inside the waist of those loose pj bottoms stroking along with Cal. I looked up the bed. Cal's own cock was reacting. There it lay, slowly filling with blood, pulsing bigger, rubbing on Danny's cheek.

Danny snuggled in hugging Cal even tighter. I tugged loose the tie on my pajamas and they fell to my knees. I was pumping my hand and humping my hips matching Cal's moves as he sucked on my son.

I was imagining it was me he was sucking. Then I got this wild picture of me doing the honors, me down there scoffing up my own son's hot throbbing prick. I looked up at Danny's again. His eyes were open, so was his mouth. He was looking right at me with Cal's dick head thrusting at his lips. His tongue flicked out and whipped across the tip of Cal's dickhead, lifting off and stringing out a shimmery thread. His lips curled in a smile. Lifting his arm from around his buddy's butt he waved at me -- and winked. Then the little shit puckered his lips and blew me a kiss around that boy cock. He mouthed three words. I. Love. You.

I was so fucking hot I was trembling. There was no stopping now. There lay my son, watching me beat off. He thrust out his neck and , with one gulp, deep throated Cal. Cal let out a cry and started gyrating his hips. Danny bobbed a few more times and then rolled on his back, pulling free.

With our eyes locked he joined me, fist fucking with a steady beat. Cal lay back beside him pounding away, watching Danny. When he rolled his head back and saw me Cal leaped off the bed.

He went from hot dog to limp noodle in an instant. Then he realized what was going on. But, somehow he must have felt out of place or, maybe, older men just didn't do it for Cal. Danny was chuckling, not missing a beat, watching his buddy scramble into his clothes and tear out. He lifted his arm and motioned me closer.

I shuffled forward. Moving, those pjs fell to my feet. I stepped out of them and stood with my shins against the mattress, trembling as I stroked faster. Danny scooted across the bed lifting first his shoulders and then his butt, undulating like a snake.

Lying right below me he switched hands and wrapped his near arm around my thighs, hugging. This whole scene was erotic as hell. Part due to the danger -- his mother, my wife was asleep in the room almost directly overhead. At least I was praying she was still asleep. Part due to the forbidden, illicitness of what we were doing. Part, because this young man masturbating before me was so fucking good looking it made my teeth ache.

I hadn't seen Danny naked since grade school when we went skinny dipping in his uncle's farm pond one summer. The last year and a half, since he started working nights, we didn't see much of each other. We had been close. But I realized that had all changed when he started shaving. Somehow I had started feeling uncomfortable hugging him. Afraid of feeling exactly what I was now feeling.

What I was feeling was a climax sneaking between my ass cheeks, poking at my shit hole. A climax -- and deft hand with nimble fingers. There was just enough sweat trickling down my spine to lubricate that searching. My feet shifted and my legs spread.

Danny was working me like he knew my body as well as I did. Which I guess he did. Looking down I was seeing me at age nineteen -- hot, horny, wishing I could find someone. Not that that last seemed to be a problem for Danny. Not given the way Cal had been tooting his flute.

When his searching fingers stopped, pressed up and one shafted me, I exploded. He was fingering my prostate, watching me quiver, a satanic little grin on his angelic face.

"Do it, dad. Pour it out all over me. Juice me, dad. That's it. Now! . . . Oh, shit. Fuck. Dad, I'm going to cum. . . . Do it with me, dad. Yea! Yea!"

We were both squirting out our seed. It was falling in a surrealistic pattern of white globs, shimmering strings and creamy droplets all over his heaving torso. Danny smeared together the goo covering that muscular platter, mingling his brother with my grandson. He glossed his chest, anointing himself and chuckling softly. A broad smile bowed his lips through which his breath was being pumped in a frantic pace which gradually subsided.

Shaking my tool I milked out the final drops. My fiendish little boy caught them in his wet dripping hand. Blowing me another kiss he lowered his hand and started licking off our mingled cum. He was depraved, he was beautiful, he was what I had wanted to be, doing what I had wanted to do but had held back from, ignored, avoided.

I sank to my knees beside him. He looped his arm around my neck and tugged. We kissed. Like we had never kissed before. I groaned at the feel of his tongue in my mouth. My tongue met his tongue, lightly, tingly, fierce, demanding. He hugged me closer, nibbling on an ear.

"Always wondered when you'd come out of the closet, old man," he whispered. "I've wanted to make it with you for what seems like years. No, don't." He held tight as I tried to pull away, weakly. "I've got to say this and, damn it, dad, you have to listen. Mom knows about me. I even think she knows about you. You're just too fucking macho at times, like you're trying to prove something. I'm not saying she'd accept what just happened -- or what else is going to happen."

His arm contracted, holding me still. "Yes. There's no going back, old man. I want more from you than just a hot shot of cum on my belly. And, damn it, dad, you know you want more too. So. We've got some things to discuss, some plans to make. You agree?" His arm turned me loose. His eyes were boring into me. "Do you agree?" he asked again.

I shuddered. He was so damn aggressive. I loved it. My heart was pounding. I looked and saw the passion and pleading in my son's eyes and melted. My lips sought his again. I pressed down, grinding, sucking, my tongue thrusting, my hand rubbing through the slickness to touch and then grasp his no longer fully flaccid manhood. It surged in my grasp. Youth. Fantastic. He shoved me away. I kept my hold on his quickly swelling penis.

"So, you do agree," he said smiling, arching his back, thrusting with his legs, fucking into my fist.

"Yes, damn it. But, enough for now," I gasped. "I still don't believe this. I must be dreaming."

He gave a hard tweak to my left nipple which convinced me I was fully awake. "O.K. O.K. Get dressed and get your ass out of here, dad. I refuse to accept responsibility for what might happen if you stay."

I did as directed. As I hit the door he whispered harshly, "Dad!" I turned. He'd rolled into the covers. Just that face, those limbs, those eyes, that mop of brown tousled hair made me shudder again. "Meet me for dinner at Angelo's Tonight!" He paused again, winked. "Please!"

I nodded and left. Back to my warm waiting wife.

So it began. Brena and I had good sex, open communication, but this I couldn't talk about, not to her. I found it difficult enough to talk about us with Danny. Even more impossible was acting nonchalant around him at home.

Brena was not a dumb blonde. Within six months our relationship deteriorated. Lack of attention on my part. Suspicion and anger on hers. None of it directed at Danny. She blamed it all on 'another woman' and my mid-life hormones. Fifty percent right.

We agreed to a trial separation. She thought it was fantastic when Danny offered to move out and share an apartment with his dad. He did too, when I accepted his offer. We'd been having 'dinner' together every Wednesday and sometimes 'taking in a show' afterwards, ever since his birthday.

Wednesday was his day off and Cal let us use his apartment. No, let's be accurate. Cal let Danny use his apartment. Cal still refused to acknowledge I existed in their world. Our relationship didn't sit well with him. I guess being gay doesn't stop one from being a prude.

Danny admitted they still got together where Cal lectured him -- as well as sucked his cock and porked his ass. At first I resented Cal (not the lectures, the sucking and porking). Then I sat myself down and tried to remember 1974 when I was just nineteen. I'd had a hard on all the time and, alone, masturbated constantly. Danny's time with Cal was just youthful letting off steam. How the hell did I expect him to hold his flow of cum for only a couple of load dumps every Wednesday night. I couldn't have done it at his age. We agreed not to talk about it. But we did.

The first couple of Wednesdays we just hugged, kissed, groped around, masturbated each other and talked. We talked about a lot of things beside Cal. That was part of the attraction between us. We were like one. Once the sex barrier was down we found we could open up about anything. Lying in bed together, exploring the feel of our flesh we would marvel at how alike we were, physically.

From there it wasn't long until we started to discuss people, things, our feelings. I discovered that Danny was far more experienced than I had imagined. There was that coach in high school, and Cal, and he went on naming names. I admitted that my interest in men had been bubbling since I was ten. But, I told him the truth, I was a virgin. Shit, except for some mutual jack off sessions like we'd had so far, I'd never done a thing with another male.

Our roles reversed. Son taught father. Danny would tell me about things that had happened to him. Then, with me steaming with desire and all turned on from his tale, and his touch, and from touching him, he'd show me just what had happened.

Like when he told me about his first fuck. The coach was the one that got his cherry. Coach Roberts had got him to stay for some special training and then ended up mounting him on a wresting mat in the middle of the gym. He told me the story, pausing between sentences to kiss and lick his way down my body. He got to the interesting part of the story about the same time his hot tongue lapped over my ass hole the first time, setting me tingling.

"Damn it, boy. Quit teasing me and show me. Fuck 'n A, that feels good." I grunted when he wiggled a wet finger in where he had been greasing me up with his spit.

He had my attention. I was tensing my abs, my legs in the air, twitching my ass as he poked with what felt like a lot more than a finger. Turned out he had got three wiggly digits in there spreading his dad's back door wide. With the other hand he was equally busy suiting up and smearing cool strawberry jel on his dad stabber. Then he let a dollop fall and worked it in with those thrusting, tugging fingers.

He was honest with his old man. Told me that it was going to hurt, maybe a hell of a lot, but that it got better, and better, and better. Said he'd take it slow and not do anything more than I wanted.

"You honestly never've been butt fucked? Not even a hand job, like this?" he asked twisting those fingers in my hole. I was reacting violently, squiggling and squirming, my body bucking. "God damn, dad, you sure have a hot ass. Hard to believe it's virgin."

"Until you touched it, you young pervert, I was content using it to shit." He stretched his fingers and stroked up, right on a spot that sent bolts of lighting through me. I groaned and told him, "Oh, damn. Do that again."

I couldn't believe what I was feeling. "Yes. Right there. Damn. Oh, damn. Dan-n-n-n-ny! Please! OH, NO!"

He had been right. It hurt. It burned and felt like every fragile tissue in my ass hole was being ripped apart, like a zillion paper cuts with raw alcohol poured over them. At the same time his hands were soft on me, lightly touching, tracking up and down my legs, stroking my sides. Only his hands moved. I could feel him inside me, just there, filling me. I nearly bit through my lower lip. I was damned if I was going to act like a baby about this. If he got initiated by that muscle bound hunk of meat Cliff Roberts, with the tool Danny said he carried, well I sure as hell could take loosing my cherry to my own loving son.

"How's my dick head feel?" he asked, leaning in, beaming down at me. That little move translated into a gut wrenching stab. "Sorry," he whispered, crinkling his nose and dropping a kiss off his lips.

Only his dick head. Shit, and I thought it was over with. Then he moved again and every pain and more stabbed through me. I closed my eyes and tried to breath slow, steady, calming my body, willing it to relax. I had tensed, and could tell it wasn't helping Danny or me. There was enough of his cock in now where he could give a short pump.

Thrusting from behind me, humping that cushiony glans along, it stroked my hot spot. I wanted more. That was a feeling that numbed the pain. I let myself move in opposition to his light thrusts. His cock grazed my prostate again and moved a little deeper. I nearly yelled out and at the same time felt a warm rush of pleasure.

I could do it, damn it. I knew I could do it. I kept working with him, inching in that pipe, that gigantic rod into my tunnel. Now his hands were tight on my calves, hot and sweaty. He was moaning and panting.

It was done. He lay deep in me and then rocked back, plunged in again. Never before, with the wildest orgasms, had I felt like this. We were moving together, our bodies meeting, parting, trembling, bucking madly. Inside and out, my every nerve ending was alive, rubbed raw with new passion.

Danny was lost in rutting, grunting, a tortured look of pure pleasure frozen on his face. I wanted more, although I knew he had no more to give. We were one, a grunting, groaning, fucking animal intent on one objective, sexual release. It was a total obsession. We were oblivious to anything but the fires burning in our guts.

I was hard, as hard as I had ever been. My juices were dribbling out, sprinkling on my chest. The stroking inside me increased in tempo, lifting me to a new high. Danny was thrashing, yammering about cumming, fucking faster and faster. With a guttural cry he backed out, scrambled, tugging off the rubber and knelt there between my legs whipping on his cock. I was working just as hard on mine and this time I shot first, high, long ivory steamers.

I lay there shuddering and moaning, letting it pour out. Then Danny jerked erect. He held tight and shook his cock as it spewed and sprayed. White creamy globs of pudding splattered all over me. Little dancing drops flew off the flailing end of his dick between the massive bursts. Huffing and groaning my son collapsed into my arms. Our cum pasted us together.

It got better. Wilder. Depending on your point of view, I guess. Danny was a dick freak. In love with it and all its functions. Oh, yes, I mean all of them. When we moved in together the major requirement for our apartment was a large sunken tub in a fully tiled bathroom. Because.

Because I was now the official in charge of Danny's daily evening shower. He'd lay out in that tub stroking away and go ape as I showered all over him. He respected that the idea didn't turn me on, but knew I'd do anything for him. So, I always got paid.

Just as soon as he got fired up again he'd crawl in bed with me and start working on my pleasure. What? Hey, I turned into the biggest, forty something butt slut in the state, maybe the nation, the world.

We even opened our arms, his mouth, my legs for Coach a few times after running into him one time in the back room of the adult video arcade. Other guests have cum and gone in the last year. It's always been by mutual agreement, though. Usually Danny and I are content just with ourselves. The divorce is final next month.

Brena hasn't said anything, but I think she finally knows that Danny and I are sleeping together, sexually. We try to include her in our life. What happened wasn't her fault . . . or mine. We raised a water baby who made his own choices, including bringing out his dad.

Oh, yea. Danny admitted recently that the scene on his birthday was all an act on his part. Cal had been the only one drinking that night.