Making Daddy Proud By: A. Cheshire Catt April 4, 2004 E-mail comments to kierkegaard_is_cool@hotmail.com
--
Standing on my balcony, over-looking the city like a king, like a hawk, I smoke the end of a cigarette and watch the smoke float out and over the Friday night crowd. I flick the butt of the cancer-stick out and down to them. Milling about like an infection at a collection of sores, people have descended upon a popular strip of clubs in the busy district. I have a great view of this evening crowd.
I reach down to the table and grab my gin and tonic. It wasn't a strong drink, this isn't a story about how I got crazy drunk and did something foolish. Oh no, far from it, I was in complete control the entire time.
There were times of course when I've been without control, but from those times I have been arisen a fearless being, if not slightly damaged, if not dense with superiority complexes. I smirk, as if they can see me from down there, twelve stories down. In a couple of hours I'll be there too. Not yet though, at midnight it's a bit too early for my liking. I sit in a big chair I have out here for the warmer seasons and find my pack of cigarettes. With a remote control I turn up the music. I decide it's been long enough since my last joint. I need to smoke one now.
My name is Jed Orser. Let's not even talk about my age. Let's say I've grown up from those foolish young days, without shedding my athletic physique, but still haven't hit that age where I freak out and have to start working out every other day to maintain a waistline. I have great, sexy shoulders, and a chest that sends men whirling, but I think I look best, not naked, but with an old t-shirt on. I love wearing old jeans too. My ass is perky, and with great undies I can pull off any fashion decision. My feet are broad and tanned, the nails are trimmed straight across, muscular and hairy and they have a nice, powdered aroma. I hate wearing socks, around my home I am bare foot. Right now, only because I am outside and it's still only early spring, I've wrapped an old cardigan around me to keep the chill off. A few more drinks and I won't be worried about the chill.
I'm sitting there, wrapping the contents of a lovely jade-colored box into a flimsy piece of rolling-paper, when suddenly my mind flashes back in time.
--
I'm blonde see, I've always been attracted to men with blonde hair too. My father had darker hair. He used to say I was the most beautiful boy in the world. I grew up loving his affection and feeding on it too. As a little kid he'd sit me on his lap and bounce me around. As I grew up he insisted on slapping my bum, not to hurt me or to punish me (like spanking me), it was flirtatious, if not just a little embarrassing. When I was eleven he started to joke around with me when we were by ourselves, he'd tug on my pants and make them fall. I would pull them up, blushing, and tell him he was driving me crazy. He wasn't though. I loved it. The slapping and tugging evolved of course and my father and I used to stay up late when Mom was sleeping. He'd ask me to touch his cock, and I loved touching it. His long cock would throb in my hand and grow harder and longer, simply at the whim of my touch. He taught me to jerk him off, then one night he told me to suck it. He would ask me to drink his cum so there wouldn't be any mess left.
As I grew he would let me do it whenever we were alone. I loved sucking him off. It got to be a very lazy thing. Sex became an act alike a cold beer on a hot day, alike a great cigarette after a good meal, alike strawberries with chocolate around them. When I was fourteen, he started to fuck me.
Mom was visiting her sister in Montreal, she'd be gone all weekend. I had never really thought of two guys having sex. I had no idea what I wanted to ask for. Dad was laying on the couch and he pulled out his eight-inch steak. I leaned up and let him drop it in my mouth. He'd pet my head and pucker his lips to blow kisses from afar. I loved making him love me like this. I started to jerk myself about this time, I knew that I could blow a load just like he did, and when he noticed that I had started to do that he told me to stand up for him to take a look at me. I did so, rather naively. He turned me around and tickled my ass cheeks a little, making me giggle and grab at his hands. He laughed too.
"Bend over son," he asked.
"Why Daddy," I said.
"I want to see your hole."
"Hole?"
"Where your poop comes out son, I want to see if I can use it now."
I was so baffled. Such strange requests come from smarter mouths. When I bent over he told me to part my legs a little and then I heard him sigh and say something as if to a ghost in the room that I had not heard mention of before. I felt his finger rubbing up and down my ass-crack. He said to me, "Your ass is so smooth and hairless. I love it, can I kiss it?"
"Yes daddy, I would like it if you kissed it."
It's true. Upon feeling his finger stroke the virgin skin I felt an urge to keep rubbing it, to do something about it. I wanted to feel as much sensation as possible. Soon I felt his nose nuzzle into the crack and take a deep breath of the cavern's perfume. Then I felt his tongue make its way up and down and then suddenly touch that spot on a young boy, hidden from view, is actually Pandora's Box. I smirked, as if he could see me as he nursed my ass for the first time. I moaned.
"You like that?"
"Oh yes Daddy, what else can you do to it?"
He told me to go to my room and pretend to be an animal on the bed, he said he'd be in shortly after. I went into my room and crawled upon the bed, like a wild animal and pretended to be in a new part of the jungle, looking around for prey, smelling the air, scratching at the terrain.
When he came in he carried with him some cream and a small towel. He stopped at the door and wished he had a collar he could put around me. "I can't wait to show you this son, you're going to think it's so cool."
"Really?"
"Oh yes, it's going to hurt a little at first but it's going to be something you'll want forever once I show it to you."
"Cool."
Personally, I thought nothing could be better than sucking on his big cock.
He got up behind me and started to lick my ass ferociously. I squirmed and enjoyed it until he started to push his finger in. I got a little nervous, it was so overwhelming. He told me I had to relax. I said I couldn't. It was all hurting so much. He said, "I want to stick my cock in you, you'll love it."
I was afraid though. I just wanted to suck it again. After a very disappointed look on his face was wiped away by the pout of his son, afraid of anal sores, he decided to let me suck his cock again all afternoon in front of the television. I was such a good son.
Eventually he made me go to bed though. I fell asleep and then later I felt him getting into bed with me. This wasn't all that uncommon, but usually he told me something, it seemed that night he was trying to do it purposely without waking me up.
I felt him quickly lick his finger and then poke around my hole. I was still so tired though, I really wasn't able to wake right up. I was swimming in the fog of darkness after dream. Suddenly I felt him push against me with his cock. He was hoping I was relaxed, he was sure I was asleep. To make him think he had succeeded in catching me in my sleep I just pretended to be, but in order to be convincing I had to relax. Relaxing like I did I let him slip up inside me.
But this is where I learned something about myself that will never disappear.
When a man's cock is in me, in my ass, rock hard and poking, hot like a skewer, my body's wriggling torment only adding to the eroticism of my submission, the sense of near-pain, near-pleasure, the ruthlessness of sodomy, when he presses slowly up against me from behind, I am driven mad. As if a button is pushed and I become wildly impassioned. I claw at the sheets, gasp and moan. I push and pull myself. I love his cock. I want to be fucked and fucked hard. I care not for my body, in fact all I care for at that moment is the craziness of that unabashed, almost violent sensation. I love being fucked. Daddy fucked me too. Oh he fucked me good. He fucked me all night long. He loved his son's little ass grabbing onto his cock and stroking it agonizingly but heatedly and without ebbing.
He was right. I loved being fucked and it would be something I'd want forever.
--
I tossed the butt to the crowd and shifted my aching cock in my jeans. Memories of Dad always get me off. I was enraptured with the lusty idea of finding someone tonight, maybe two or three, at one of the clubs down there.
There was a silly little college bar. Drunken tarts and jealous boyfriends, I hate that place and avoid it at all costs. Then there was a strip club, where strange and disgusting men lurk like vultures and flowers are delivered on (practically) an hourly basis. Then an after-hours club, that's where I am headed. A cultural wowwing of the senses, a climax of drugs and fashion and beauty and music, of course the beats have to be mentioned. There's another one, but it's just a pub for people who sit around and drink.
I pop a little blue pill and decide it's time.
--
I'm a regular at that club across the street, the bouncers simply smile when they see me in the line and by the time I get up there they make some sly comment about my outfit, saying I'm dressed to kill. It's not really a gay club, it's just that by the time all the other bars let out, everyone wants to come here. There's always someone to fuck inside. Tonight I wanted to be fucked though. I had to find a top, which meant I had to act all coy and submissive and flirt with older men.
I went in and danced for an hour or so before I finally got too hot and had to go back outside for a cigarette. Being herded into a small corner of the patio, of to the side so to not interfere with the line up, I found myself rather alone in front of the doors to the strip club. I had no desire whatsoever to step in there. I would stand out like a light in the darkness. I smoked my cigarette and rubbed my cock.
Suddenly the doors of the strippers' place opened and out stepped two men. One of them I knew from a friendship I'd had years before. He and I had fucked his girlfriend over the course of a summer. The other guy I didn't know at all, but the look of their attire and messed hair provoked the fantasy that they'd been privy to lap dances and other such carnal caterings. The guy I'd known in a lifetime before, recognizing me immediately, gasped, "Holy fuck, Jed Orser, dude how are you?"
We had a moment of catching up. I already knew, in a dark way, I wanted so badly to suck his cock. I could still remember its size and knew it would be perfect for slipping up my ass. I made no mention of this though, I wanted to seem as straight and cool as possible. He turned to his friend, "Hey Jeff, this is the guy I told you about."
His friend, Jeff, seemed a little older than us, but probably only by a few years. He had dark hair and a nice, crisp blue shirt on. They were so straight I thought, after a moment, they'd just go along on their merry ways and forget this had happened by morning.
"Oh fuck Jed," my old friend said, "we've spent nearly two hundred bucks on fuckin' drinks and women tonight but we're still super horny. Are there many chicks in there?" He pointed to the club. I didn't think they'd like the club so I told them it was dead (a huge lie). He asked me where I was living and I pointed to the tall building across the street, telling him it was on the twelfth floor. Next thing I know, I've invited them up for a joint and a drink.
His friend seemed really quiet, intimidating me a bit.
My friend, Tom, was so shocked and genuinely happy to see me. Happier, no doubt, than I was to see him. He has blonde hair too, and I find him attractive but I start to doubt that he's going to want to fuck because, well, he's straight and there are no women present. For some reason, probably because I'm peaking on my little blue pill, I declare that I, too, am incredibly horny. In the elevator I can only smell their musk, they must have been soaking in their lust before they left the strippers' and didn't even realize how attractive I found them.
I gave them a tour of my small place and we sat outside to smoke and have a drink. Still his friend said nothing. I kept looking at him though, he'' shift his cock in his pants and make a face as though he could barely stand himself any longer.
"Remember how we used to just pull it out and start jerking off when `she' would go to bed. That was fucking great." Poor Tom was so drunk, he didn't even think his friend might be uncomfortable with me there.
Playing the game, I told them that I was drunk enough to give them blow jobs if they wanted to shoot their loads bad enough.
Tom laughed, he couldn't believe what I'd just said, and he told him I hadn't changed a bit. Jeff wasn't so sure. Tom and I had a long conversation then, as if a random topic, about how some sexual acts at certain heated moments, don't really mean anything. Basically, just because I had sex with a woman once doesn't mean I'm straight or even bisexual, therefore by letting me cater to their urges wouldn't make them gay. As if finalizing the agreement it was declared I would relieve them of their problem promptly, as soon as he went for a piss.
We went back into my small living room and sat around. It was just Jeff and I for a moment. I told him if he felt uncomfortable be didn't have to, I wouldn't care either way. He suddenly spoke, he asked, "Can I fuck your ass?"
"Only if you fuck me hard and call me a faggot."
He smiled. I chuckled.
When Tom got back he hadn't done up his pants and his hard cock poked out ahead of him. He stepped up in front of me and said, "I bet you've been dreaming about this moment for a while."
"All day," I said.
He laughed but then commanded me to suck his cock.
As if putting a morsel of delicious meat in my mouth I moaned and savored the tenderness and heat of his circumcised manhood. I could already taste his precum. He put his hands on my head and shoved his cock into my throat. I was thoroughly relaxed and took his cock in without the slightest gag or wheeze. He fucked my face and told me I was great cocksucker, and then he told Jeff how good it was. "It's better than any fucking whore in that shit place where we were tonight."
"Oh yah," he said, "I want some of his ass."
I took them to the bed, along the way taking off some my jeans and leaving my t-shirt on. Tom kneeled on the head of the bed and, on all fours, I let my ass cheeks spread for his friend. There's a mirror beside the bed, and in it I saw Jeff take off his pants shyly, as if he were in a changeroom and didn't want anyone to see him. He stroked his dick and made it hard. It was a huge uncut monster. It reminded me of Daddy's. He spit on it and got it all wet. Deciding he couldn't get it wet enough, he stepped up to the side of the bed next to me and told me, "Suck my dick faggot, get it all wet so I can fuck your loose ass all night long."
I looked at him. Jeff was one hot piece of meat. That blue shirt he was wearing looked so hot on him. I imagined he was muscular under it, but it could've been just the drugs. I sucked on it, long and slow, making sure to leave all my saliva on it, dripping off it. Then he spit on it again and went back to assume his position.
I put Tom's cock back in my mouth and braced for the massive meat to make it's way into my man-cunt. After only a second of hesitation I felt him push his way in. I gripped the sheets and let Tom's cock float in my gasping mouth. Tom moaned that this was fucking hot for him. Jeff started pounding me and yelled, "Your one fucking easy faggot, kid. You like my cock up your ass like this?"
"Fuck me man, fuck me harder."
"Oh yah, can you take it kid?"
"Just fuck me man, your cock is so hot."
Next thing I know, he's pounding my ass and defaming my convenience with grunts and groans. I was licking Tom's balls and lightly jerking him off.
Tom said he wanted to fuck me too. Jeff said he was about to blow his (drunken) load right up my "cheap faggot ass" and before anything happened I felt the liquid heat of his surge enter me. I told Tom I wanted to drink his cum. I told him to just cum in my mouth. I sucked him harder and harder until finally he sighed and blew three jetting blasts into my throat. I swallowed it hungrily. Before even three minutes were up Jeff was saying they had to go. I told Tom to stop by sometimes and see me again if he ever needed some help at the end of the night. He smiled and said that it was so good to get back with me.
I popped another pill and went back to the club for a great dance on the floor.
--
As I left the place, as the sun was coming up, I noticed that some young guy was standing at the curb. I hadn't blown my load yet and he looked so yummy. He was wearing a tight black tee shirt and a pair of black pants that made him look like he might have been nineteen but it could be suggested he was actually a little younger. He'd probably snuck in with a face ID.
As I approached him, I noticed he looked a little freaked out. I asked him if he wanted a cigarette. He took one with a smile. He said, "I've spent all my money and there are no buses running yet. I can't get home and yet I don't know what to do."
"Why don't you come up to my place. I live right there," I said, pointing pretty much to my very balcony.
He looked really nervous. I told him there was nothing to be worried about at all, I wouldn't hurt a fly. We joked about that reference, being as it was from Hitchcock's Psycho. He didn't really agree to stay, he just sort of followed me home. It was agreed that it was better than walking the streets at this time of night.
He told me he'd been on all sorts of drugs that night but he was now coming down and he just wanted to sit and chill out. I offered him a joint at my place, perhaps that's what sold him to me. Kids are so fickle.
In my apartment he seemed like he was going to fall asleep. We started to have a conversation about sex. He told me never gets fucked up the ass because he's too tight and can't relax enough. I told him what an "old wise man" once told me, that I'd want it forever afterward because it felt so good. He didn't seem to believe. He thought I was trying to get into his ass. He was right.
His name was Robby, he said he was 19, but after the joint he confessed he was only 17 and a little nervous sometimes when he came out like this on his own. I didn't doubt it. He was really thin and couldn't have put up any sort of fight had anyone with any sort of malice in their mind approached him. Looking at him, I knew what Dad had seen in me that day he'd told me to bend over.
Poor guy though, he started to lean over a bit so I told him to take my bed and I would sleep on the couch. Truth be told, I had absolutely no desire to sleep yet, I was still too stoned. I took him into my room and pulled back the covers. I could sense his awkwardness and left him alone to get undressed. He said nothing really, neither did I, it was a strangely acceptable situation though. He could have caught a bus in about the time it would take for him to get to a bus stop, but I couldn't let him out of my apartment in his state. He was practically already asleep, as soon as his head hit the pillow he was out of it.
I went out into the living room and opted to make myself some coffee. While it brewed, I grabbed a blanket off the couch and wrapped myself in it. Scratching my chin, the sky brightening with each breath, I could feel my beard growing.
--
"Hey son," he yelled from the front lawn, "get your dad a beer eh?"
He was out there with his buddies drinking and smoking. It was summer and everyone was lazy, as it was the middle of the wildest heat wave. Nothing moved. When I opened the fridge door the blast of cool air made me linger there and think again about what he'd requested as if it could have been anything else but a beer. Taking one, I rubbed the cold glass along the back of my neck.
I was wearing only a loose pair of shorts. It was too hot for anything else.
As I walked outside my Dad shouted for me to hurry up, he heckled me, "What were you doing, jerkin' that cock of yours just like I taught ya."
"Dad!"
Just because we'd been having sex now for a couple of years, didn't mean he told anyone. In fact, that was just it, we told no one. Sometimes it seemed we didn't even tell ourselves. Late in the night he would come in and slip himself inside me, or on those weekends when she was gone we would pretty much mock their relationship by lazily fucking all over the house. But the more it happened, the less it mattered. It seemed that since the night he finally penetrated me we became complacent and settled in the idea of our relationship.
I loved him though. They, the people who go through relationships like tissues, say the first one is inevitable and not to be put on a pedestal. At the time, I wouldn't have agreed. I held his opinion highest, and the feelings he introduced me too sent me on a ride of growth unlike anything that would ever happen again. But in a sense, I hate him now for that. For a father's control of that role can be the ruin of a son.
When he was drunk my father forgot his boundaries.
His buddies sat around a picnic table in the shade of a maple. I tip-toed across the gravel lane with a beer in my hands and the sun in my face. Dad, with his buddies, had all their shirts unbuttoned and their hats on crooked and loosely, sweat dripping from their soaked rural crowns. All of them work on farms in the area. Days like this are dangerous for them. I was on summer holidays and mom was at her air-conditioned office, and they all got the day off because heat-stroke is a bitch.
The men all squirmed awkwardly when my father had made that comment. Eyes were averting any direct contact with mine, I was trying to flee, I didn't want the humiliation.
"Hey son, why don't you show us your young prick?"
"Dad," I said, blushing, "I don't think they care."
None of them said anything though. When I looked at my Dad he even looked angry. I couldn't believe this was happening.
"I'm only going to ask you one more time. Take your fucking shorts off, drop them!"
I hesitated and he slammed the table with his fist, one of the guy's bottles spilled a bit.
I jumped. I was scared. My sweat turned cold on my back.
Finally I hooked my fingers into the elastic at the waist of my shorts and tugged them a bit. I noticed one guy wet his lips. Another wiped his brow. I couldn't watch them. They were fat and hair men, sweating like pigs. I was the slop in a bovine's trough. My shorts dropped to the ground and I was naked.
"See now boys, ain't I got a beauty of a boy?"
"That sure is a fuckin' hot piece of meat you got there."
"Love to have me some of that."
"Me too."
"Can we man, can we get some of your son's ass?"
"Sure, I guess so, it's a nice day to fuck a boy." My father objectified me so easily, with such a fearless twitch of his tongue he basically made me available to all his friends' cocks. I looked at him with a great level of hate all of a sudden.
See, if this were a real relationship I could have walked away, I could have abandoned him and bad-mouthed him with all my friends and chalk it up to experience. But it was my father, and no one denies their father anything.
"Come on Jed, up on the table. Make your Daddy real proud now, you hear?"
"Daddy?"
"Come on now, up you get."
"We won't hurt you sonny," some guy said, "we just want to see you squirm a bit on our big man-cocks." That sounded like he read too much porn.
One guy was already getting up to stroke his cock.
This was all happening too quickly. I felt the urge to run.
Dad looked at me as if I had just burned his house down, "Get on the fucking table boy and throw your legs up or we'll make you do it."
"Dad?"
"Fuck this, guys, grab him."
I didn't know what to do, and for only a second did I even have the chance. The guy who was standing was the first to grab my arm and throw me, like a bail of hay, against the table where a bruise would be left along one side. My dad participated in throwing me up on the table. I cried out for them to stop but they were drunk and hot, burned by the sun, burned with their lust.
All I could think to do was relax, I knew it would hurt more if I was too scared. I shut off my brain and they started fucking me. One after the other. They shot their cum all over my body. One stood on the table and pissed straight down onto my face while another one, with a huge cock, tore my ass. I started to black out. I was fading. I was scared. I was crying -- and then I wasn't crying.
I hated him. I ran away a week later.
--
I stood at the doorway to the bedroom. He was laid there like an angel. Had my father thought that, had he thought I looked like an angel at any point? Sure, I get hard thinking about him still, but only because of the way it was at the beginning. I don't think it was really, how shall I say this, it wasn't really wrong of him. He ruined the relationship so I left him. That's all it was. We broke up. Undeniably, I don't know how to have a relationship. Lord knows, I don't even want a relationship.
I see innocence in my bed and it saddens me. The only thing that satisfies me is staining it, ruining a pretty thing as I had been ruined.
I walked over to him. The sleep from a night of drugs and dancing is a solid sleep. I wasn't afraid of waking him. I pulled down the blankets and saw that he was naked. His long, thin body, pale and hairless was a heavenly sight. He seemed to glow in this world of my gloom. I thought of Jeff and Tom as they'd been on this bed a few hours before. I was getting hard and wanted desperately to blow my load.
I stripped and got on the bed, the sheets having been tossed to the other end.
I lay down next to him in the bed. I grazed my hand along his arm and body. Taking deep breaths of his scent, the smell of scent, a hint of cologne, the aroma of a strange gaseous musk wafting up from his prized, puckering, virgin ass.
I pressed my body against his back. My nose, I buried it into the nape of his neck, under his hair line to capture his smell from there. He was turning me on. He was sound asleep. He moaned a bit, shifted in his position and ended up pressing his ass against my hard cock.
I rolled over and grabbed the lube and lacquered my shaft to the point that it was sopping. Then I pressed myself against him and, rather easily, I started to push myself in. He moaned aloud in his sleep. I thought, or rather, I felt my father's presence in the room, in me. I grabbed his waist and gently tugged him closer. Suddenly I plopped inside him. He awakened and trembled.
"Oh, fuck me. I want it now."
I almost didn't hear him. I didn't want to hear him. I just started fucking him like I was my father. I fucked him slowly and then faster and faster. I reached around and stroked his cock like I liked mine stroked while I was being fucked. Relentlessly I pounded him. He was gorgeous and easy. I loved him. He would do so well for sex. I was so glad I got him first.
I was his first. He blew his load all over the sheets and, feeling his sphincter tighten around my cock, I shot mine up inside him. I pulled out knowing my father smirked.
I hated him, and I couldn't wait for the boy to leave now.