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The 3 stories of daddy and admirer erotica presented below are courtesy of Mature Gay Stories - the nets biggest collection of stories of mature daddies fucking mature daddies or younger admirers.

Old queens gang

Located in a Southern, mid-sized city is a gay bar, aptly named Bottoms Up. Unlike the other gay bars in the area, which are close to the downtown area, Bottoms Up is conveniently located in a quiet neighborhood, surrounded by homes and small businesses. Men of all ages, ethnicities, and socio-economic backgrounds frequent the bar.

Six of the regulars are older, retired men, affectionately called the "Old Queensí Gang". (A couple of years ago, one of the young, cute bartenders had jokingly nicknamed the six older men, and the handle stuck.) All six are single, most having had long-time partners, who are now deceased. Most are affluent, although wealth (or lack of it) never influences their choice of friends. They are just lonely people, who are good friends. Almost daily, several of them get together for lunch or dinner, movies, concerts, shopping, or just to enjoy morning coffee. And, of course, they meet at Bottoms Up three or four times a week.

At first the men resented the nickname. Chronologically, they are old, but none of them feel old, and do not think they act old. None of the men had ever been called a "queen" before in their life, and believe that they never present the characteristics of gay men they know or observe that are called "queens". Furthermore, the term gang is, to them, a derogatory word connoting violence, illegal activities, rashness of youth, and cliquishness. The group, therefore, initially balked at the moniker, the "Old Queensí Gang", and decided that they were going to make an all out effort to prove to their fellow patrons, that they were not old, not queens, nor were they a gang, and were not excluding any one in the bar that wanted to be friendly to them!

So, they set a plan into action. After arriving at the bar they would gather around a table with their drinks and exchange greetings and brief conversation. Then they would break up and make a point to visit with all the other regulars, and introduce themselves to any newcomers. Oftentimes after they had met someone for the first time, they would introduce them to their friends. It was not long before everyone who frequented the bar became well acquainted with these men, and found them to be friendly, interesting, fun guys, and a pleasure to be around. Once accepted by others, they came to accept and even become proud of the nickname "Old Queensí Gang".

Several times during the year, the gang would decide to have a party. They would take turns in hosting the parties at their homes. As a group they would plan and make all the preparations for the parties. Each of them would contribute money covering the expenses of the parties. The gang always retained Bottoms Up to provide bartenders and the liquor, beer and soft drinks. When they had a party, there would be very few customers at Bottoms Up since most of their customers were guests at the party. There were a number of the quests at their parties, who were friends, from through out the city who had never been in the Bottoms Up bar. There were a few gay women and a number of straight (gay-friendly) guests. Several of their guests were very influential people.

One early evening, the gang was at the bar and Jason, one of the members, met a young man named Chris. Chris was an eighteen-year-old brunette, with a short, slim build, and a boyish face. Obviously he was too young to be legally served alcohol, but had apparently arrived at the bar having already had a good bit to drink. The bartender had refused to serve any alcoholic drinks to Chris, so Chris was nursing a cup of coffee instead. Jason noticed Chris because he was sitting alone, rather slumped over his coffee mug, and it was apparent that he was depressed.

Jason approached Chris with concern, because Chris looked like a young man in trouble. Initially, Chris was rather shy and unresponsive, but Jason was friendly and non-threatening, but persistent in trying to pull Chris out of his shell, and find out if there was a way that he could help.

Jason noticed that Chris had a number of bruises on his face, neck, and arms. After some time talking, Jason asked about the bruises. Tears came into Chrisís eyes and, after a moment of silence, he told Jason that his lover had beat him up the night before. Jason asked him if he and his lover lived together and if he was going back home to his lover who beat him up. Chris lowered his head and said yes, and explained that he still loved Hank, and wasnít ready to leave him. Jason sympathetically listened.

When the conversation ebbed, Jason asked Chris to meet his friends. Jason introduced Chris to everyone and then briefly told the gang about Chrisís problem.

Everyone in the gang began to try to convince Chris that he should not go back to the apartment or to his lover, but Chris was determined to go back home. Suddenly, Chris looked down at his watch and frantically announced that he had to get back home. He was late and had to cook supper before Hank got home from work or Hank would get mad and beat him again. They decided as a group to accompany Chris home.

Upon reaching Chrisís apartment, John and Buster began cooking dinner for Hank and Chris, Bryan and Joe set the table and picked up some things lying around the apartment, and Jason and Tom sat on the sofa with Chris and tried to warn him once again of the potential danger in his situation, but Chris was still adamant that he was staying. Before the group left, Jason told Chris to call him the next morning. Jason asked Chris for his billfold, and put his card with a message for him to call along with a hundred dollar bill in it, just in case he needed money. The gang hugged Chris and said their goodbyes and left before Hank arrived home from work.

The next morning, having not received a call from Chris, Jason called Tom, and they went to Chrisís apartment. Chris came to the door wearing only his jockey shorts. Jason and Tom took notice of day-old bruises all over his chest and stomach. He was so thin that he appeared undernourished. His eyes were red and he had obviously been crying. They also noticed that he had not yet completely physically matured, still Chris had the potential of growing into be a very nice looking young man.

Jason and Tom told Chris to go get dressed, and that they were going to take him to a restaurant to have breakfast. During breakfast, Jason and Tom carried on a conversation with Chris, but never mentioned Chrisís problem with Hank. After they finished eating, they began to question Chris about the incident and his relationship with Hank. Chris explained that he met Hank shortly after the death of his father. His mother had died several years before the death of his father. He dropped out of high school after his father died, and worked as a cashier in a convenience store to support himself up until a couple of months ago, when he was laid off when the store declared bankruptcy. Chris told them that Hank and he had been together for over a year. He said that he loved Hank very much and felt like he could not live with out him, but did not think that Hank loved him at all.

Chris described Hank as about six foot tall, thin, thirty-five years old, uneducated, unshaven, and had the appearance of always being dirty and in need of a bath. After a few months into their relationship, Hank had begun continuously verbally abusing him, and recently started to beat him. The verbal abuse was always very degrading, using foul language. In most cases the abuse took place when Hank had been drinking and/or was high on drugs, which was occurring more frequently. That morning, before Hank left for work, Hank told Chris that he was a no good faggot, he was lousy at sex, he was the ugliest person he ever had met, and that he was not good enough to deserve him.

Tom explained to Chris that he needed to get out of this relationship immediately before the beatings became more severe or Hank killed him. Jason told Chris that he should file charges with the police for both verbal and physical abuse, and he should get a restraining order. Both Jason and Tom offered Chris the opportunity to come live with either of them until he could get on his feet again. Chris refused to take any of Jason and Tomís suggestions, warnings, or offers of assistance, and asked to be taken back home.

The waiter brought the bill for the breakfast. Jason and Tom had a suspicion that because of the state that Chris was in the night before, that he did not remember some of their conversation with him. Jason slid the breakfast bill towards Chris and told him to pay for breakfast. Chris said he did not have any money. Jason told him that he thought he did have the money and for him to look in his billfold. Chris pulled out his billfold to prove that he did not have any money and was surprised to find the hundred-dollar bill and asked, "Where did that come from?" Jason retrieved the ticket and told him that he was only kidding, but that also in his billfold was his card with his name, phone number and address. Jason instructed Chris that when it got back to his apartment that he should put his card and money someplace that Hank would not find it. Jason told Chris that if he ever was in trouble or just needed to talk, he could call or come to his house day or night.

Later in the afternoon, the Old Queensí Gang met at Bottoms Up and discussed Chris and his problems. After a lengthy conversation, all of the gang was extremely concerned about the danger that Chris was in. Buster excused himself and went to the phone and called the Chief of Police, who was also a friend. He explained the situation to the chief, but did not reveal names or any personal information about the two involved. The chief told Buster that there was nothing that he could do until the boy decided to press charges or to break from the relationship, but suggested that the young man contact a minister at one of the churches, and perhaps the church could help. At the present time, he did not know of any other facility or help available for the abused or the homeless in the city, since the abuse and homeless shelter was temporarily closed.

Buster reported back to the group about his conversation with the Chief of Police. The group then decided to go to Chrisís apartment and once again try to talk him into filing charges, or at least leave the apartment. Chris listened to their pleas but refused to file charges or leave. He said that Hank was all he had. Both his parents were dead, and he had no other friends. The gang told Chris that they were his friends and that they would help him do anything he wanted to do. Chris still refused to budge.

The next morning Bryan called a psychiatrist that he had known for a long time for advice. After giving the psychiatrist the details, the psychiatrist indicated that it was apparent that Chris had some serious emotional and mental problems that needed to be addressed, but unless Chris agreed to talk to him, that he could not be of any help.

During the morning John also made a telephone call to his minister seeking his advice. After John related some of the details of Chrisís problem, his minister said that he was willing to help in any way possible and asked John to keep in contact with him. He told John that he met regularly with several other ministers from other churches, and he knew that between them, if needed, that they could be of help to Chris.

Several days slipped by and each of those days the gang tried to think of some way to help. Then Jason, Joe and John decided that they would go see Chris again, and try to talk him into leaving. When they got to the apartment, no one answered the door. One of Chrisís neighbors was out in the hall and John asked him if he had seen Chris. The neighbor informed him that an ambulance picked Chris up that morning. He did not know what had happened, but Chris was in bad shape, and the medics spent a long time with him before taking him to the hospital. John then asked the neighbor if he knew where Hank was. The neighbor expressed his dislike for Hank in so many curse words and said he did not know where he was. He said that Chris was a real nice kid and everyone in the apartment complex really liked him, but did not care for Hank.


Jason, Joe and John called the other members of the gang and they all met at the hospital.

They learned that the doctor who was taking care of Chris was a person that several of the group knew. The doctor came out into the waiting room where the group were and told them that Chris was in bad shape but would eventually make a full recovery. He had several broken ribs, a mild concussion, a broken arm, several broken fingers, severe bruising, and internal bleeding that would require surgery. Chris had told the doctor that he had fallen down the stairs, but the doctor did not believe his story. The doctor told them that Chris had large bleeding whelps on his back, buttocks, and back of his legs and they could in no way be caused from a fall down stairs.

Chris was in the hospital for eight days. Each day each member of the group took turns during the day and night to stay with and visit Chris. Hank never once ever visited or called. The consensus of the group was that Hank had no love or concern for Chris and that he probably considered Chris as a clinging vine that he no longer wanted around.

The second day that Chris was in the hospital, he told Jason that he needed several things from his apartment. Jason made a list and he and Tom went to the apartment to get the things Chris wanted. As they were leaving the apartment, the next-door neighbor stopped them and inquired about Chris. Tom and Jason told him that Chris was doing all right and, in time, would recover. The neighbor asked what had happen to Chris. Tom told him that they suspected that Hank had beaten him up again. The neighbor told Jason and Tom that he and other neighbors had overheard some of Hankís yelling at Chris and loud noises coming from their apartment. The neighbors had discussed calling the police to report a disturbance of the peace, but had not done so. Jason told the neighbor that Chris had told the doctor that he had fallen down the stairs. The neighborís reply was "bullshit".

The day before Chris was to be released from the hospital, the Old Queensí Gang visited Chris and firmly informed him that he was not going back to live in that apartment again.

They told him that he now had six good friends and he could have his pick of with whom he was going to live for a while. Chris was very stubborn and informed them that he was going to go back to Hank.

Chris was discharged from the hospital and the gang was there to take him to his apartment. When they arrived at the apartment, they found that Hank had moved out. Tom went next door and asked the neighbor if he knew anything about Hank moving out. The neighbor grinned and said, "Yesterday, Hank hurriedly packed his things in his car and left, being escorted out of town by the Chief of Police".

The neighbor stated that none of his neighbors would ever admit to, or give anyone the full details about who was involved or what happened to Hank. He came home yesterday and as he unlocked the door to his apartment, he was jumped from behind. He was blindfolded before he had a chance to see any of those who grabbed him. Before Hank knew it, he was down in the boiler room and was stripped of all his clothes. Hank was somewhat a hairy man, but with the aid of some tweezers, he left here with no hair on his chest or stomach, no pubic hairs and his eyebrows and head were shaven. Those who attacked Hank told him that he had two hours to leave town. One of the attackers also told Hank that he used to live on a ranch, and was an expert in castrating bulls. The former rancher would like nothing more than the opportunity to use Hank to exhibit his expertise to the rest of the group, and if Hank did not leave town that he could expect the worse. They left the boiler room leaving Hank with his hands loosely tied behind his back (so that he could free himself in a few minutes), blindfolded and still nude. The neighbor told Tom that he was not going to ever reveal to anyone who was involved but that he enjoyed every "pluck". After Hankís encounter with his attackers, Hank called the police.

After the earlier telephone conversation between Buster and the Chief of Police, the chief had called the hospital and requested to be personally informed if there were any suspected abuse cases admitted to the hospital in the next couple of months. He also had instructed his staff that he wanted to immediately be informed of any abuse situations. When Chrisís doctor reported the suspected abuse to the police, the chief was notified. The chief called and talked to the doctor to obtain as many details as possible. The doctor told the chief the young manís name and his address. The doctor also told the chief about the six older men that were concerned about Chris. The chief asked if one of them was named Buster and the doctor said "yes".

After the chief learned about Chris he assigned two of his detectives to investigate. The day after Chris was admitted to the hospital, the detectives arranged an interview at the hospital with the doctor and with Jason, Tom and Buster. After the interviews, the detectives decided to not question Chris. They did not believe that Chris would reveal any details or information to them, and did not want to add to his emotional and other problems.

The Chief of Police learned about Hankís call to the police and about the threat made for him to leave town. The chief instructed the dispatcher to have the two detectives assigned to Chrisís case to answer the call. The detectives were instructed to listen to and record Hankís statements. They were not to say anything more than necessary. They were to tell Hank that there was nothing the police could do and to then leave, but to remain in the area and observe Hank. The chief wanted to be notified, if and when Hank packed his car and prepared to leave. Almost immediately after the detectives left, Hank began to pack his things in his car.

The chief wanted to personally do the honors of seeing Hank to the city limits. As Hank neared the city limits, the chief had the sergeant who was driving the police car to turn on his flashing red lights, turn on the siren, and pull Hank over to the side of the road. The chief asked the sergeant for his ticket book, and wrote "Do Not Come Back" on a ticket. The chief handed the ticket book back to the sergeant and told him to give the ticket to Hank.

Tom reported to others in the gang and Chris what the neighbor said concerning Hankís sudden departure. After Chris learned what happened to Hank and that he had moved out and left town, Chris was devastated. However, it did not take long for Chris to agree to move in with Tom. The Old Queensí Gang rallied around Chris and helped make his adjustments as smooth as possible. They persuaded Chris to go for counseling and finish his high school education.

On several occasions Johnís minister had contacted him and was kept informed of Chrisís situation. Johnís minister and ministers from other churches had taken up a collection to cover Chrisís hospital and counseling expenses.

Before retirement Bryan had owned a very successful company. Bryan had sold the company to a person that he knew and admired. A few weeks after Chris moved in with Tom, Bryan called the new owner of the company and asked for a favor. Bryan briefly described Chrisís predicament and asked the new owner to find a job for Chris. He asked that Chris never be told about their conversation. Bryan told the new owner that Chris needed a salary that would be adequate to support his living, medical and education expenses. Bryan offered to pay the salary if the new owner, for any reason, could not financially justify hiring Chris. The new owner informed Bryan that his business had been growing and he did need an additional employee, and would hold the position open for Chris, and that the salary reimbursement would not be necessary. Chris submitted his application and was hired.

The group bought a used car for Chrisís nineteenth birthday so he would have his own transportation. Chris was very happy with his job and enjoyed working for the company. Chris had not work there long before he began to receive promotions and increases in salary.

Chris lived with Tom for close to six months, and during that time Chris received counseling and group therapy. He studied diligently, and with encouragement and tutoring received from the gang, Chris earned his GED. Both his mental outlook on life and physical well-being improved immensely. A few days after moving in with Tom, Chris began to take on various tasks around the house. He did most of the cooking, cleaned, washed, waxed and maintained Tomís car, made neglected repairs to the house and did whatever he could in an effort to repay Tom for letting him live there. Each member of the group supported Chrisís progress as much as they could. Even though Chris enjoyed living with Tom, after six months, Chris decided that he was ready to become more independent and self-sufficient and needed to move out and be on his own.

After Chris moved out of Tomís home, Chris made it a point to go at least once a week and visit his Old Queensí Gang friends at Bottoms Up. Chris often expressed his thanks and appreciation to his friends for all they had done for him. He told the gang that he was very happy with his job and that he planned to start to college part time working towards a degree.

One time when Chris was attending one of the gangís parties, Chris met another young man and they immediately liked each other. His name was Charlie. Charlie was about the same age as Chris. He was a handsome young man who was polite, shy, intelligent, clean cut and neatly dressed and Charlie was working full time and going to college part-time. Chris introduced Charlie to the Old Queensí Gang and Charlie made a great impression and met with their approval. After several months of dating, Charlie moved in with Chris. After Charlie and Chris began dating, they would go at least once a week to Bottoms Up and/or out to dinner to be with the gang. Chris and Charlie became known as honorary members of the Old Queensí Gang.

The Old Queensí Gang had successfully helped Chris, but all their good deeds were not finished. There were others, on occasions, at the Bottoms Up bar that required their help, but these adventures are another story.

About my father

"Damn," said my Dad. He was pulling on a new casual shirt and the top button came away in his fingers - which were especially annoying since weíd just begun a weekend of bushwalking in the mountains and - to keep things simple - weíd only brought along a bare minimum of shorts, boxers and shirts.

So Dad was now left with two options -- wearing a shirt with the neck gaping open almost to his naval or pinning it together. Dad being Dad, he took the first option.

We took the elevator down to the hotel lobby, both in our khaki shorts, short-sleeved shirts, knee-length hiking socks and thick-soled shoes, happy with ourselves and happy to be heading for the wide open spaces to stretch our legs and maybe even our minds. Our mood matched the sunny day outside.

The clerk at the front desk wasnít so sure.

"Ah, Sir?" he inquired of Dad, "Would we be planning to head out for some off-track walking today?"

"Sure are," beamed Dad right back.

"Well, itís just that weather in the mountains can change awful fast and I wondered whether you might like to consider long-legged trousers and maybe long-sleeved shirts? See, up here it can be warm and sunny one minute and cold and wet the next."

The look on the clerkís face showed clearly it was dawning on him that the guests in front of him were not about to be so wet as to go back to their room and change into more sensible clothes.

"Just a thought," he mumbled. And that was it really. Off we walked into the bright, clear morning and in no time had headed out on one of the well defined walking tracks that radiated out into the forests and hanging swamps for which this area of the mountains was so famous.

Maybe half an hour later, Dad steered us up onto a ridge that overlooked a deep, darkly green valley. He caught sight of a stand of weirdly shaped rocks that looked about a mile or so off the track weíd been following.

"Hey Tiger - howís about we strike out for those rocks and see what their all about?" he asked me.

And Iím like: "Sure Dad - letís do it."

In minutes we were pushing our way through some pretty dense scrub that not only whipped round our legs and arms but made visibility poor and distances difficult to gauge. It was sweaty work but all seemed worthwhile when we reached the oddly shaped rocks and boulders that Dad had spied from the path.

"This is cool, Dad," I told him enthusiastically. "Letís get some pictures of us on these rocks, eh?"

So we jumped around on the rocks, posing in silly ways, clowning round, laughing a lot and having a pretty good time.

"You know something Tiger - we shoulda brought a water bottle with us," Dad said at one point. "Maybe we should look for a stream around here; maybe a bit further down in the valley."

We headed down deeper into the thickly overgrown valley until at last we heard the sound of tinkling water up ahead.

"Told you," he said happily as we pushed on to find the creek. It was a great little creek, too. Lots of ferns and little swells and eddies with overhanging rocks that sheltered the course of the stream. We drank from the sold, clear water and neither of us had any doubt that we were having a great DadíníSon day. I donít think either of us could have been happier - until Dad looked up through the tree canopy and saw the beautiful blue sky above us had turned to a more steely, snarly gray.

"What happened to our day?" he laughed. "Maybe we better set on our way back, eh?"

So we started to push our way back up the valley - but it quickly became clear we were heading in a different direction to the way weíd come.

"I donít remember seeing those rock ledges when we came down," he said to me.

"Me neither," I said. "Iím not sure if I can remember where we broke through to the creek."

For the next hour we made fruitless forays into the scrub trying to find the path weíd beaten to make it to the creek but every attempt failed. We were both getting frustrated and a bit anxious. And the lousy weather was getting lousier every minute.

Then the rain started. First there were big, fat drops that plonked heavily onto rock surfaces and onto the silver expanse of the creek. Then they got smaller and faster and denser until it was raining really heavily.

"Letís make for that overhanging rock and shelter underneath," said Dad, pointing to a small, natural cave that had been formed by the creek in decades past.

While we sat and stared gloomily at the pouring rain from underneath our rock shelter, it was dawning on us that our situation was fast becoming a lot more serious. Not only was it wet, it was cold. And it was beginning to get dark.

Iím like: "Shouldnít we just head up the valley anyway and not worry about going the same way we came?" Dadís face looked grim.

"Tiger, I donít think we would make it to the top before dark if we go now," he told me in a soft dark voice he uses when things are looking like crap. "It pisses me off to even suggest this -- but I think we are going to have to rough it under this ledge until the morning and hope to high heaven that it has stopped raining by then."

It wasnít the happiest moment in my life. Here we were in our thin summer clothes with no food, no light, no heat - but lots and lots of water.

"You really think so?" I asked, hoping like a drowning man that somehow it was all going to become right again.

"Yeah, sorry, I really think so," he told me.

Oh, great. Still there was nothing either he or I could do about it so we sat mournfully on the soft, black earth inside our little Ďcaveí and stared out at the rain.

We tried talking but the words wouldnít come so the silence started to become a wall between us. In due course, however, it began to get so cold that someone had to say something or weíd both end up freezing our asses off. As it got darker - and colder - Dad told me to move close to his side so that we could exchange body heat. It worked to a certain extent because maybe an hour later we had both fallen into a stressful sleep - me with Dadís arm holding me firmly to his side and my face cradled in the crook of his armpit.

A bit later I was suddenly awake - for no apparent reason. I strained my eyes to see anything in the dark but couldnít make out a single image beyond the curve of my fatherís chest. What I was able to see, however, was the clear image of Dadís right nipple, out in the cold night air because of the missing button on his shirt. It was a deep, pinkish brown and it was stiffly erect and thrusting a good half inch away from his breast.

It looked amazing and I found myself quite excited by the sight of it. I looked up at Dadís face and he seemed soundly asleep so I decided to explore a little bit. As quietly and gently as I could, I moved me left arm up and with my forefinger reached out and touched the nipple. It gave a little jerk. So I then took my forefinger and thumb and softly squeezed it. Another little jerk. I was enjoying this.

For maybe half a dozen times I played my little game of squeeze and jerk - until I heard that soft, dark voice again, quite close to my ear.

"Suck it," the voice said. "Suck it."

Inside my head Iím going like: What? Who? Did you say something Dad? But I didnít. A tough little voice in my head told me to shut it and just do what Iíve been told. So I did.

I licked my lips a little, moved my head forward and slipped that pink-brown object between them. The nipple tasted salty and Dadís skin smelled sweet and warm. The experience shocked me. I like this, I told myself with some surprise. No, I love this.

I started using the tip of my tongue to tickle that amazing little nipple and I rolled it between my lips so I could feel its amazing texture - hard and soft, sour and sweet. It was such an experience I felt something move inside my guts. And then I felt something moving deep between my legs. What the fuck was going on?

Then I head Dad give a long, breathy moan and felt his arm my further behind me and his hand rest on the back of my head, pressing my face and lips even closer to his breast. It was shocking and dazzling and the most exciting thing I had ever experienced. So I sucked even harder and tongued and twisted as excitedly as I could and my Dadís moans got even louder and more frequent.

Then there was an unexpected, chaotic move as Dad pushed himself up on one elbow, grabbed me round the chest, pushed himself down on me and planted a magnificent, fat, wet kiss right on my lips.

I tell you there were skyrockets going off in my head. And in my cock. There was also something going on in his cock because I could feel it, hard and throbbing, pushed against my abdomen.

"Oh man," I thought to myself, "if that goddamn big thing gets any lower its gonna slide right up my crack."

And for the first time I actually considered the possibility of being fucked stupid by my own father and the thought shocked me. I had seen my Dad naked lots of times and, of course, Iíd seen his big, thick penis and his bushy, pale brown public hair - but it had never struck me before as being anything but mildly and embarrassingly interesting.

Now, all of a sudden, I was seeing images in my mind of that thick, blood-engorged great cock with its bulging purple head, ramming its way unmercifully up my ass-hole. And the image both frightened and excited me.

What this whole experience was doing to Dad I could only guess. But I had a good idea. He was panting heavily, rubbing his whole body against mine with sweat beginning to seep from his skin and a strange, sour smell beginning to engulf him and his clothing.

He wouldnít let my mouth go; he sucked on it and licked it furiously and then pulled his tongue from my mouth and started licking my face as well. At the same time his cock was seeking desperately to escape from his short pants as his buttocks rose up and then crashed down again on my stomach, almost as if he was using his prick to smash a new hole into my abdomen.

It was scary and I wondered if I should call out and try to wake him from his massive, randy dream. But did I really want to stop this madness? No, I decided, I did not. So I shut up; I just grunted when he slammed down against me one more time.

But then it did stop. Suddenly, Dad stopped trying to drive his big wang into my flesh. He lay there on top of me for a minute then slowly lifted his body upwards to separate us from each other.

It took only moments for me to work out why. Dad was ripping at his short buttons and his fly buttons and dragging his clothing off before reaching down and, fumbling frantically, started undoing my short and pants. It took a couple of minutes but eventually he had us both naked.

"You know what, Tiger?" he said in that dark chocolate growl. "Youíre driving me nuts. And Iím so mad Iím gonna fuck your ass for you. Iím gonna fuck it till my prick goes right up your ass and comes out your mouth. And then Iím gonna shoot a million gallons of hot spunk to paint the inside of your guts. And I wanna hear that you want me to fuckiní fuck you like that. And ya wanna see me fuck your sweet little pink ass. And you wanna feel my spunk shootiní into your throat from outa your ass."

A funny kind of groan came out of my mouth before I could gasp: "Yeah, Daddy. Fuck me Daddy. Fuck your son Daddy."

Shit, I thought, thatíll probably put him right off. But it didnít. In fact it seemed to inflame him more. He was on his knees in front of me with his dimly perceived big cock sticking out in front and his arms hanging by his sides. Then he simply leaned forward, bent his waist forward and my knees back until they touched my chest and then plunged his face down on my groin, sliding my cock right into his mouth.

He sucked it and tongued it and swirled it round his mouth. He grabbed the tips of my foreskin and gently chewed it before using his lips to slide the skin back and suck heavily on the head. Then he reaches up with his fingers and stuffs my balls into his mouth too. It was like crazy and it was magnificent too.

In a little while he slides down beneath my balls and starts licking my asshole, spitting juice up into the little crack and pushing the top of his tongue inside. It goes deeper and deeper and heís licking and sucking harder and harder, jabbing away into my ass with his hot tongue until he puts his head up and whispers in that dark chocolate voice: "I can feel a little lump of you sweet young shit with my tongue, boy. Why donít you be a good son and push it out for me."

I donít know if youíve ever tried to take a crap while youíre on your back with your knees bent back to your chest, but, believe me, it ainít easy. But I pushed hard and grunted a lot and finally I could feel a little lump of shit push its way between the lips of my asshole and - incredibly - straight between the waiting lips of my fatherís face. He slid it onto his tongue, tossed back his head, and swallowed it in one go and then growled at me: "You canít eat good food without some good champagne, boy. Gimme a good long drink of your piss, eh?"

Iím like: Where the fuck is this all going? Itís hard enough trying to piss while youíve got a hard-on but trying to do it while your hard-on is in your Daddyís mouth is even harder. But I managed--some how.

Oh, he loved that mouthful of hot piss, I must say. And then he wanted desert. It was back to the wild cock sucking weíd started with and he raged at my prick until it got rock solid hard, finally spurting a great load of spunk juice down his throat. He licked and sucked until heíd cleaned up every drop of semen and then dropped back beside me, as if someone had taken the wind-up key out of his back.

So, like, is that it? I was feeling pretty wrung out and tinny inside with the exhaustion of it all, but I couldnít help thinking that my initial big fantasy of being deeply rooted up the ass had simply not happened.

I shouldnít have worried. Dad was just catching his breath. In a few minutes he rolled on his side so his face was at right angles to mine. And he goes: "Well, now weíve got the preliminaries out of the way, howís about we get down to the serious business?"

He didnít bother waiting for an answer, just worked his way round in front of me, lifted and spread my legs in the air, looked down and spat on his cock and wriggled on his knees into position to root me right up the back passage.

"You ready?" he wants to know.

"Yeah Dad."

"Okay. Letís fuck"

And we did. At first it was like he was shoving a pineapple up my crack and I thought he was going to split my ass in two. "Címon boy, you can take it," he kind of grunts at me. Once the big knob on his cock was past the lips of my ass he was able to slide that rock-hard roger right up into my guts. It was beginning to feel like heaven.

"Ya like it, ya like it?" he wants to know and Iím like: "Yeah, I like it Daddy. Fuck me man . . . ram it in me." And he does. Eventually it gets to the point where heís about to cum so he stops and looks me in the eyes and goes: "How you want it - in your guts, in your mouth, on your face . . . what?"

"I want all of Ďem," Iím panting - but since I know thatís kinda out of the question Iím going: "Put it on my face Dad . . . and, Dad, you can lick it off me then."

He looks a bit surprised and kind of looks up for a second and then says: "Yeah, right--on your face, on my tongue - and then into your mouth. Right?"

"Yeah, Dad. Do it man."

So he pulls that big, fat cock out of my ass with one fast, yanking motion, shuffles forward on his knees until his cock is looming over my face and then starts to wank it. The smells are incredible: hot, ripe, spunky male smells are pouring off his pendulous, hairy balls . . . musky, deep shit smells escaping from his ass . . . rancid, heavy sweat smells from his pubic hairs and sharp, metallic cum smells pouring out of the head of his cock as he pounds away at his gross big lump of meat.

Iím lying there with my eyes bulging and my mouth wide open waiting for the spunk to start shooting all over my face and suddenly it starts happening: first a little spurt of white cum rips out of his cock-head and lands on my chin, then a little pause and a huge great load of steaming jizz spurts out at lightening speed and lands in my hair and on my forehead. Then another big avalanche of the white stuff pours out of his slit while he waggles his cock from side to side, making sure the stuff covers my face as it hits its target. Thereís cum in my mouth, in my hair, in my eyes, nose, cheeks - even dribbling into my ears. Iím a cum pie waiting to me eaten - and my Dad is the man to do it.

When heís finished pulling his prick heís leaning down on me and licking my face with his tongue, slurping up the big globs of spunk that cover me. As quick as he sucks up a mouthful he spits it straight into my open mouth and Iím swallowing it as fast as he pours it in.

"Hey, save some for me," he commands and then presses his mouth down on mine and starts to lick around inside, rescuing as much of his own cum as he can find and then sucking it down his own throat.

"Thatís a fine load of sweet, hot cum - even if I say so myself," says Dad and Iím going: "Yeah, the best, man. The best."

Then he sort of collapses on top of me for a while before rolling over on his back and staring at the roof of our rock cave.

"Think we deserve a bit of rest now, Tiger . . . what do you think?"

"Sure man," I tell my Dad before cuddling next to him and drifting into sleep with my head on his chest.


I heard the voices before I was even awake.

First some indistinct sounds and then words: "There they are, there they are. Up there in Dead Manís Cave!"

I was awake in about two seconds, panicking almost immediately in case they saw I was naked and covered in dirt and dried cum.

But hereís the thing: I wasnít. I was fully dressed - well, as dressed as you can be in shorts and a shirt, shoes and socks. But dressed. And so was Dad. What was going on?

In minutes, three guys had scrambled up the bank of the creek and were squatting down in our Ďcaveí wanting to know if we were okay (yes), asking had we eaten (no), did we want coffee? (yes) and organising us into a group for an escorted walk back up the mountain.

We were lucky, they said. Our hotel had alerted police we hadnít returned and people were known to have died after a night of exposure in these mountains - in fact, long ago, one man died right in the over-hang cave weíd spent the night it.

Dad and I were suitably chastened, but I still couldnít comprehend how we had ended up being so clean and neat when we should have been totally filthy. Had it all been a dream? How could I even broach the subject with Dad, who was looking stern and responsible as we headed out for the climb back to civilisation?

He was walking ahead of me as we all single-filed through the scrub. And then, about fifty yards up the slope, he turned round and looked me in the eye. And winked.

A night by the fire

So, there I was, by the door of "City of Quebec", the only gay bar I knew in London.

This was my first time traveling around here and I didn't know what toexpect, but there was only one way to find out. In I go.I like dark ales and stouts so I got a pint of Gillespie from thebartender and started looking around.

The bar was quite crowded and noisy and most of the men were seniors.Don't get me wrong, I like 'em that way.

There was no place to sit downstairs so I climbed the stairs up andfound a small table with free footstools. A guy in his early 60's wasalready sitting there and there were two pints of lager on the table.

- May I take a seat here?

- By all means, he replied smiling at me.

I looked at him while he went on reading a newspaper and sipping hisbeer. I guess he had come from work and his shirt wasn't buttoned allup. I tried to keep my eyes off his chest where I saw some silver hairbut couldn't.

Another man came to sit by the table and started a conversation with me.

- Vous parlez francaise, jeune homme?

I don't know why he spoke French to me, I guess he saw I was a foreignerand thought I must be french.

- Uhm, pardon m'sieur, mais mon francais n'est pas ais?, I mumbled.

- Oh, that's okay, we can speak in good ol' English then. I work at the

Comission, you know and I'm used to speaking languages.

The well-dressed guy seemed to be sixty-something and I almostimmediately got irritated with his glib tongue and self-centredarrogance as he kept on telling about himself and his work in Bruxelles.Gee, this one really thinks he brings the light to the world!

- Your first time in London, right? I could take care of you and showyou around the city, young man.

I was not in the mood for going on the discussion so I didn't even tryto be nice when I replied.

- I'm a grown up man and need no daddy 'round me. Find some birdie totwitter to you.

He seemed to be offended and stood up saying nothing. I looked at theother guy while the slicker left and saw him smiling at me.

- Good for him, huh?, he said and winked.

He stared at me with the almond-coloured eyes of his. I felt my heartwould break - he looked much sexier than I first realised. Oh, what asweet candy, I thought to myself, looking at his salt'n'pepper hair andthe sparkling eyes.

But then he finished up his lager and took the paper under his arm andwas about to leave, too. I got anxious, I couldn't just let him go butcouldn't figure out how I could keep him there.

- Excuse me, got to go. Good night!

- So early? It's only 6.30...

- Well, I've got to walk my dog.

- Uhm, I'm kind of new in this city and don't know places yet, and Ijust wonder if I could walk the dog with you... so that I'd seearound, the city, you know.

I was so ashamed, it was the worst line I ever let pass my lips. I couldimagine the feeling of an "easy to get" -neon light blinking on myforehead.

But it seemed to work all right: the guy stopped and looked at me, stillsmiling. I guess he knew perfectly well what I was after.

- Okay, fair enough, he said and motioned me to follow him.

I finished my Gillespie and walked after him through the crowded bar.

- By the way, my name is George, he said as we walked down the street.

- Oh, I'm Bjorn.

- Swedish?

- No, I'm Finnish, but I live in Norway at the moment. I've come here totake part in a conference concerning arctic research.

- You're a scientist?

- Yeah, oceanographer.

- I'm just a common civil servant for Her Majesty's government, nothingas interesting as being a scientist, he said and laughed.

I loved the way he laughed.


It was a Great Dane, an aristocrat for a dog. Not too young anymore, Ipresume, and it liked walking slowly through a large park with us andaccepted me to be his friend as soon as it laid his eyes on me.We were talking and chatting and I tried to make George laugh, just tohear it. He seemed to be a charming man and my heart was beating all thetime faster and faster as we were coming back to his house near thepark.

- Well. Here's where I live. I guess you're staying at a hotel?

- Yes, it's quite near this place, actually...

We stood by the door and stared at other's eyes for a moment. I didn'tfind anything to say.

- Would you like to come in and have a glass of wine, perhaps?

I tried to sound cool, not to show how eager I was, but failed again.

- I'd love to.

He asked me to set a fire in the fireplace in a nice room downstairswhile he fetched the bottle. I got the fire there and sat down on alarge cushion on the floor. George came in with two glasses of red winein his hands, gave one of them to me and sat behind me.

We were sitting close to each other watching the popping fire dance.George put the glass aside and twined his arms around me. Then he kissedmy neck and started caressing me and I could but sigh.

He unbuttoned my shirt while petting me and I put my hands on the insideof his thighs and started feeling about him.

- Would you like to turn around, so I could see you...

I didn't say anything, just turned around and nestled against him. Mydick was waking up and I explored his groin while we kissedpassionately.

- I'm hot... could we undress?

We struggled off our clothes as quickly as we could and I couldn't keepmy eyes off his groin while he became revealed. He had an instand bonerto match.

We ended up in the 69 and I felt him kissing and sucking me all over. Itook his dick in my mouth. It tasted exciting but I couldn't go on.

- I'm sorry... Can't do 'nything else but safe, you know, I said in anapologising voice.

- You're perfectly right, he said and took something from a table nextto us and threw it to me.

- Flavored condom?

- Yeah, honey-flavored... You'll love it.

I felt a condom being placed on my manhood and did the same for hiswell-erect cock.

George went on sucking me and I could only wriggle and sigh for a while.Then I got organised again and took the beautiful dick in my mouth.Honey... nice touch, huh?


Needless to say I didn't have to stay at the hotel that night... or therest of my stay. And whenever I get back to London, I know a dog to walkand a fire to set.

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