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Subject: ST: Draining Dad's Dick (M/M, oral, incest)
From: Quatermass <misanthrope@aol.com>
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===================

DRAINING DAD'S DICK   (M/M, oral, incest)

by Quatermass

--------------------------------
All standard disclaimers apply.
This is a work of fiction, describing consensual sexual activity
between two adult males.
--------------------------------

    It had been a rough time for my dad. My mom, his wife of forty years,
had passed away after a brief illness. The past six months had been
rough on the entire family, but it was especially hard for Dad. She had
always been there for him, taking care of his every need. Oh, how he
missed her.
    Being the dutiful son that I was (we had had some knock-down drag-out
brawls while I was growing up, but, since I moved out we had become best
friends) I checked up on Dad regularly. He had shown remarkable strength
at first; taking care of the details--funeral arrangements, financial 
matters--
maintaining the house, visiting with friends . . . it wasn't to last.
    It was their wedding anniversary, the first since my mom died; it 
was also
the six month anniversary of her death. Dad's best friend called me, 
very
concerned. Dad had missed a golf date with him, and was not answering
his phone. I assured the friend that I would check on him and proceeded 
to
drive the hundred miles from my house to Dad's, trying not to worry.

    I saw one light burning in the house as I rang the bell. No answer. 
Using
my key, I quietly entered my boyhood home and walked to the family room.
My dad was sitting there, under the glow of his reading lamp, holding 
one
of my mom's negligees in one hand and a nearly empty bottle of scotch in
the other. He did not acknowledge my presence . . . didn't even seem
connected to reality at that point.
    "Bethany," he wailed, the pain in his voice grabbing at my heart. 
"Why?
Why couldn't I go first. Oh, Bethany. . . ."
    He said my mom's name as if she was everything to him--his whole 
life. I
quietly sat on the ottoman and observed him, unsure of what to do. The
bottle slipped from his hand, landing on the carpet beside his chair. 
He now
caressed the nightie with both hands, mumbling words of love for my mom.
He was wearing his pajamas, and his hair was tousled. It looked like he 
had
not shaved in days.
    After a few minutes his rambling speech became more distinct, and 
more
specific. "Remember when you would come to me wearing this nightie? You
would get on your knees in front of me, and say: 'Feed me that snake'. 
And I
would reach down--" he moved one hand down to the fly of his pj's "--and
spread the cloth--" he was demonstrating each action as he described it 
"--
and then Mr. Johnson came out to play." Dad's generous penis plopped out
in the open, and I was instantly hypnotized.
    Some say that most gay men have dreams of servicing their fathers; I 
was
one of those men. I had never thought to act on the fantasy--having had 
many
satisfying relationships over the years--but now the circumstances were 
new
and different. Dad was in extreme emotional pain, and there was no one 
else
around to be close to him.
    "You would stroke it," Dad was saying as he rubbed the nightie along 
his
shaft, "as you looked up at me with lust in your eyes." In his drunken 
state his
eyes were almost closed. Driven by the dual urges of living out my 
fantasy
and bringing some relief to my father's suffering, I left my seat and 
crept
across the floor. If Dad knew that I was there, he gave no indication 
of it.

    I crouched in front of the man who made me and slowly reached up my
hand, hovering it above his magnificent member. When he momentarily slid
the negligee to the side I dropped my hand onto his cock. His reaction 
was
the best that I could hope for: he moaned and said, "Yes, Bethany, 
yes!". I
was gentle as I wrapped my fingers around his organ and moved my hand
forward and back with a soft, gentle rhythm.
    "That's it," he cooed, his eyes now completely shut, as the big 
mushroom
head emerged from the hood of his uncut penis. "I--I think he's ready 
for you
to taste," he continued, voicing my hope at that moment. Here I was, a 
42
year old man, about to blow my 65 year old father. I hesitated. What 
would
happen if he came to his senses while I had his dick in my mouth? As 
far as
I knew, Dad had never had a homosexual encounter in his entire life. He
loved me as a son, but he certainly didn't go out of his way to accept 
my
lifestyle. Fortunately, at that moment he made the decision for me.
    "Suck it," he said as he pawed the back of my head with one of his 
large
hands, pulling me towards the place I wanted to go.
    I opened my willing mouth, sensing the heat of my own breath, 
and--with
one hand lifting it by the base of its shaft--plunged my papa's penis 
into my
suck hole.
    "Ooh, yeah," Dad said, releasing his hand from my head as I piston
pumped his prick in and out of my mouth. My saliva soaked tongue slid
along and around his pole, working his wang towards stiffness. It was 
slow
going; between his age and his state of intoxication his body would not 
let
him get hard. I kept at it though, sucking him like a whore--like the 
whore I
wanted to be for him. Eventually, my hard work paid off. His dick 
achieved
a full erection: 9 1/2 inches long, 4 inches around. I cupped his large 
ball
sac; it felt very full. I knew to expect a face full of lather later on.
    But I was in no hurry. I wanted to enjoy this encounter for as long 
as
possible.
    I made love to my father's genitals with my mouth. I caressed, sucked
and licked every square inch of Dad's cock and balls, several times 
over.
For his part, Dad sat there--in his favorite chair--relatively 
motionless, just
enjoying the job I was doing. It was the happiest and most relaxed I had
seen him since Mom's passing. His eyes remained closed and the
remainder of his face reflected a state of bliss. From time to time a 
low
moan emitted from his lips, or he would say: "God, you're so damn good!"
I chanced voicing a few sounds of my own . . . upper register, something
he could interpret as being my mom.

    After many minutes of pleasurable interaction, Dad's breathing became
labored, and his scrotum tightened up. "Yeah, baby," he husked. "Now 
it's
time for blast-off!" I popped the head of his dick out of my mouth and 
held
it a couple of inches away from my face. Keeping my mouth open and
holding my tongue out, I fast-jerked him right behind his glans. I could
hardly breathe myself, anticipating what was to cum. "Yes, yes. I love 
you,
Bethany. Uuunnnnhhhhh!!!" Dad grunted as his pee-hole spewed his
spunk, splattering my face with his sperm--the very same sperm that had
made me. I caught as much of it as I could in my mouth and on my tongue
and teeth. My dad was so happy, he was crying.
    It was time to finish the job. His penis was already shrinking, but 
it gave
a little spasm as I popped it back in my mouth and sucked it until the 
very
last drop of ejaculate was drained; until the last nerve ending had been
stimulated to the max; until I had completely cleaned and polished his
wonderful tool.
    Dad was ready to pass out. I put away his penis and led him into his
bedroom, lay him down, and kissed his forehead. "Good night, Bethany,"
he whispered. "I love you so much. . . ." I slipped from the room, tears
filling my eyes.

    As special as that encounter had been, there was something left to 
do.
My own cock was straining against my jeans, demanding release and
seeking succor. I drove straight to a local gay bar I had frequented 
when
I still lived in that town. I avoided the eyes staring at me (and my 
obvious
hard-on) and headed into the private area. Freeing my cock from its
denim prison, I poked it through a convenient glory hole and waited for
a mysterious stranger to pick it up and relieve my tension.
    I didn't have to wait long.
    Whoever he was, he was an expert cocksucker. He knew every trick,
and he used them all on me. Soon, I allowed myself to fantasize that it
was Dad who was sucking me. The fact that this guy was giving me one
of the best blow jobs of my life helped to complete the illusion. After
only a few minutes I was ready to cum. I signaled my servicer, pulling
my cock back through and then returning it to the hole. He sucked the
tip until I could no longer stand it, and clamped down--swallowing my
cum as fast as I produced it. I stood there while he cleaned me, as I 
had
done with my dad an hour before, then I zipped up and left.

    Dad never mentioned that night, although it obviously had a profound
effect on him. He never drank again, and after a respectful time--over a
year--he remarried.
    He remained happy for the rest of his days.
    I had a memory that would sustain me in my later years.

THE END

  
    

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