Role Model

by Gingerfred Man

 

Chapter One – My Daddy

My Daddy is beautiful. Everyone says so. He has the prettiest eyes with the longest lashes. He knows just how to bring them out with his skilled use of mascara, eyeliner and eye shadow. And when he bats those lovely blue eyeballs at you, you just swoon at his loveliness.

Mama says she isn’t jealous of Daddy, but I think she is. Mama is gorgeous in her own right, but she knows Daddy is a stunner. He has the best legs you would ever see and he always wears silky stockings, big heels and short dresses to show them off. He started taking hormones about five years before I was born 16 years ago and he has big, natural titties that he loves to show off with his low-cut dresses.

When Mama and Daddy thought they were alone one time, I heard Mama telling Daddy she was sick of Daddy dressing like a tramp. But Daddy is so charming. I couldn’t hear what he said to her, but a few minutes later, Mama had her panties off and Daddy had his panties down and he was on top of her making her really happy. Making her grunt and squeal and then scream out Daddy’s name…..Gary!!!!

That’s the way Daddy is. He’s lovable and no one could stay angry at him. He’s unusual all right. Because he’s so beautiful. He knows that and we know it. But everyone he knows just loves Daddy.

My name is Brendan Kinsale and I want to be just like my Daddy.

 

Chapter Two – Growing Up with Daddy

Mom and Daddy are just about the best parents anyone ever had. They’re sweet and so loving to me and to each other. They have some real loud arguments sometimes, but who doesn’t? And after an argument, they seem to be really heated up in a different way, you know? They go to their room and close the door and a couple of hours later they come out and Mom’s always whistling and happy and stuff.

They love each other and they love me. And they have lots of friends all over town.

When they were first married, I think things were very difficult for them. As they are with all newlyweds. Every year on June 9^th, their anniversary, they show me their wedding album. They were both so beautiful! Daddy and Mom both wore white gowns. They laugh at that and swear that they were both virgins, the first two who were ever married in our town of Crabbe, Maryland. So that made it an unusual wedding! Daddy wanted them both to wear matching gowns, but Mom said that was just another example of Daddy’s poor fashion sense. She said, "Whoever heard of the bride and the groom wearing matching gowns? They should be different gowns. And your taste is so much trampier, than mine, Gary. I could never wear anything you would wear." She smiled when she said it, but I knew she meant it.

Mom was right. Daddy did dress a bit provocatively and that’s no way for a groom to dress on his wedding day. Daddy chose a rather demure white, long-sleeved wedding gown with a 20-foot train and that made Mom happy. Mom was an angel from heaven in her lovely gown. But so was Daddy in his.

I’ve asked Mom and Daddy why my grandparents didn’t look very happy in any of the pictures, but Mom said that was just because they thought the bride and groom were too young. They were both 22, so maybe that was it.

Daddy has a nice career as a supervisor at our town’s nuclear power plant. He doesn’t want Mom to work outside the home. Daddy thinks that the father should go to work and the mother should stay home and tend the nest.

Daddy’s so old-fashioned. Everyone says so.

Daddy has so many friends – at work, in the neighborhood and in our church. Other men just seem to love Daddy. And he loves spending time with them. Daddy’s men friends seem to call him day and night. Sometimes Mom gives Daddy dirty looks when he’s on the phone, smiling and talking real low with one of his male friends. Talking guy stuff about sports and cars and stuff, I guess. I imagine that Mom just wants more of Daddy’s attention.

Every Wednesday night as far back as I can remember, Daddy goes to his friend Dennis’ house for a poker game with four of their guy friends. Daddy takes a lot of time getting ready and he always wears his prettiest lingerie and shortest dresses. It must be a great game, because it goes on until really late.

I remember waking up one time around 2 a.m. and going the bathroom. Daddy was just getting home from his game. He looked really tired and I was surprised that his make-up was all smeared. Probably from smoking cigars and men’s stuff like that. I must have been really out of it, because I thought Daddy was carrying his panties in his hand and that he was sort of walking as if his bottom were sore. From sitting too much to play poker, I guess.

That must be what happened.

 

Chapter Three – Some Stuff About Me

I was born just a little more than nine months after Mom and Daddy were married. I guess that proves they were virgins when they married, right?

Mom and Daddy were so happy when I was born. They tell me I was the sweetest bundle from heaven. And they kept all my baby stuff. Sometimes they pull all that stuff out and show it to my friends. How embarrassing! But all parents do that, I guess.

Mom and Daddy weren’t sure what to do about dressing me as a baby and little kid. Daddy said that just because he had made a decision when he was a teenager "to dress pretty" didn’t mean that I would want to do it.

But Mom tells me that from the age of about five, I just didn’t want to wear anything but pretty things. I remember playing "Army" with the other boys in the neighborhood. They would be in their Sears Tuffskins jeans and tshirts and I would be wearing a pretty pink party dress with petticoats and crinolines. I remember running up a hill in my Mary Janes yelling "Bang Bang" as we stormed the enemy’s positions.

I guess I could have dressed like the other boys, but I didn’t want to. It just didn’t seem right for me and I was lucky enough to have a mother and father who understood.

Daddy said he didn’t want me to have the same problems that he faced as a boy. He says that his mother and father wanted him to dress like the other boys! Can you imagine doing that if you didn’t want to? He says that they sort of insisted and he sort of refused, but they made him dress like other boys until he was about sixteen. Then he just wouldn’t wear boy’s clothes any more. Ever again. His parents surrendered. What could they do?

A little while later, Daddy started on the hormones that gave him the beautiful body he has today. You should see Daddy in a bikini. He looks fantastic! He has a thin waist and wide hips. His legs are long and smooth. He has lovely B-cup boobies with very nice cleavage. And I already told you about his gorgeous face.

Sometimes on the beach, men look at Daddy in a funny way. Actually, men look at Daddy that way quite a bit. All the time. But he doesn’t even notice it. I mean he’s a guy and so are they. I mean, Ick! When I point it out to Daddy, he just says that those men must be gay and we should feel sorry for them.

But the men do stare. A few times on the beach I’ve seen Daddy’s bikini bottoms get lumpy too when men stare at him, but I get those erection things all the time too. For no reason. So it’s no big deal.

Mom doesn’t enjoy the beach, so she doesn’t usually go with us. I need to tell you that I wear a skimpy bikini to the beach too. And my body gets even more stares than Daddy’s.

You see, I started on hormones when I was eleven. And they really worked well. Daddy says I have the body of a "very beautiful boy." I blush when he says that, but he's right. I’m all delicious curves and I have big, C-cup titties with big, brown, ultra-sensitive nipples. All boys masturbate <Blush > but I don’t even need to touch my cock to make a big, gooey cum. I just have to play with my nipples a bit and bam! I’m shooting my sticky cream all over the place.

I’m happy that the hormones gave me a pretty body but didn’t take away anything from my cock and balls. I get 20 erections a day and when I cum, I could fill a bucket! "A man needs good equipment," Daddy says. And mine is ready for the girl who will be the mother of my children someday. Plus quite a few more girls along the way, I hope.

I’m shy with girls. They never seem comfortable with me, either. I guess I’ll have to work on that. But I sure do love girls. I touch myself all the time dreaming about making love to girls and I love to look at naked pictures of beautiful women.

I get along much better with my guy friends. Just like Daddy, guys always seem to want to be around me. Some boys make mean remarks about my appearance, but Daddy says they’re just jealous and they wish they were as pretty as I am. But I have some friends that have been close to me since first grade.

I remember playing "Doctor" with my friends almost as much as we played baseball. Tommy Ritter would get out his stethoscope and have me lie on my back. He would take my panties off and examine me very thoroughly down there for a long time. It felt really good and I liked the game. Tommy had a real interest in medicine.

When I’m with my guy friends now though, at 16, sometimes I get uncomfortable. Especially with Charlie Roberts, who has always been closer to me than anyone in the world except my parents. I feel that Charlie wants to ask me something. I wonder what it is. And I wonder why he doesn’t. The other guys I’ve known all my life also get all flushed and flustered when they’re with me these days. I wonder why.

 

Chapter Four – Changes

Things began to change for me when I took that babysitting job for my aunt and uncle, the Carters. Mrs. Carter is my Aunt Laurie, Mom’s sister and her husband is my Uncle Jack. I know what you’re thinking. Why was a boy babysitting? Well, I did the boy stuff too. Mowing lawns for example. I had lots of business doing that. Men in the neighborhood would hire me then watch as I cut their grass in my tiny shorts and halter-top. I guess they didn’t trust me to do it right or something. But they always gave me a big tip when I showed up after I was finished, all sweaty from working. The drops of sweat running down my cleavage.

The Carters had two girls, my cousins Sara and Lily, ages two and four, and they were little sweeties. I would read to them and play with them and we always had a good time. Uncle Jack would pick me up and take me home, because even though I had my license, Daddy didn’t want me driving at night yet.

One night in April of my junior year in high school, Uncle Jack was driving me home and telling me about how pretty I was. Well, I sort of knew that and I liked to hear it, but I would rather have heard it from a girl. I mean, I’m a guy and this 30-year-old married guy, who’s only related to me by marriage, but still family, is telling me I’m sweet and beautiful and well-built. He was very nice-looking, but I figured he must be gay. Poor guy. I just hoped he didn’t pull any gay stuff with me.

I guess his praise must have been having some effect on me, though, because I was getting one of my frequent erections and my mini-skirt was tenting up pretty high. Uncle Jack looked over and saw it. And then he did a very naughty thing.

As we were driving home, he reached over and lifted my skirt above my stocking tops and garter straps. He caressed my thighs. I was blushing fiercely and my ears were hot. I wanted to smack him, but I didn’t want him running off the road. I wanted to tell him to stop, but I was tongue-tied and all I could do was whimper, which he probably took the wrong way. Because he began to stroke my cock through my silky panties.

I was outraged! That gay molester was, well, molesting me. Very nicely, yes, but it was horrible. I started to protest, but I felt a big tingle in my stomach, then a second, bigger tingle. Then, for some unknown, gayish reason, I began to ejaculate, soaking my poor panties with six huge globs of my boyish goo.

I looked over at Uncle Jack and the beast looked proud of himself. I hardly noticed that we had pulled into my driveway. Then, and this is almost horrible to repeat, then he leaned over and kissed me, all the while, reaching under my blouse and rubbing those ultra-sensitive nipples I told you about. My body betrayed me. I let him kiss me, mostly out of pity for his gayness, and after about three minutes of his ghastly paws on my bare titties, I made another big, cummy mess in my panties.

Thank goodness he didn’t expect me to do anything to him in return!

I couldn’t!

Without a word between us, I got out of the car. I gave him the haughtiest look I could muster, then held myself tall and proud until I got into my house. Closing the door behind me, I began to sob.

Thank goodness Mom and Daddy were upstairs enjoying each other’s beautiful bodies. I would have died if they had been witnesses to my shame.

I had just let a gay molester make me cum twice. And I didn’t scream or punch him in the nuts or claw his eyes out.

As I undressed, washed myself clean, tied up my hair and applied my moisturizer for sleep, I thought about my reasons for allowing what happened to happen.

As I slipped my little nightie on, I admitted the truth to myself. I let Uncle Jack do those awful things because I liked them. I liked his hand over my panties stroking my penis and testicles. I liked his big, rough hands on my sensitive titties. I even liked kissing him.

Then I began to sob uncontrollably. Was it true? Was I gay? How could I ever face Mom and Daddy if I was? Daddy would be so ashamed of his gay son.

I would just not tell anyone. And I would not babysit for my aunt and uncle again.

Still, just thinking about that kissing, the first kissing I had ever had, made me hard. Really hard. I stroked myself and allowed myself a teeny bit of gay thoughts. Just to get the cum out of me so I could sleep.

In my mind, Uncle Jack was on top of me and kissing me. He was rubbing his big cock against my tummy (although I couldn’t imagine why he would want to do that with another male) and making those grunting sounds men make. Then he started to spurt his cum all over my tummy and breasts. His hot juice fell on my nipples and, in real life, I came another hot, sticky bucket.

I knew I had problems, but what could I do?

 

Chapter Five – Junior Prom

I really wished I could talk to my best friend Charlie about everything, but I was sure he would reject me as a friend if he knew I had gay thoughts.

Charlie had been acting very oddly anyway and it all sort of came out three weeks before the prom.

We were walking home from school and he was carrying my books. I told him not to do that, but he said he liked doing it. He had been doing stuff like opening doors for me and holding my chair when I sat for about six months. Odd, don’t you think? I mean one guy doing that for his guy friend?

Anyway, he asked me if I had a date for the junior prom. I had to admit that I hadn’t had the courage to ask a girl and that it was probably too late.

Charlie swallowed hard. He was trembling. How odd! Then he said, "Brendan, would you like to go to the junior prom with me?"

What? Did I hear my best friend right? Then it dawned on me what he meant. And I was so relieved.

"You mean we go stag and drive there together?" I said. "I hadn’t thought of that, but I guess it’s better than not going."
Charlie’s face fell. That was odd too. I mean, I had just agreed to do what he asked.

Then he half-smiled and said, "Yeah. That’s what I meant. OK then. Do you have a dress?"

I didn’t. But I knew Daddy would buy me one.

When I told Mom and Daddy what had happened, word for word, they gave each other one of those looks parents give each other.

Was I missing something?

Daddy took me out and bought me the most beautiful prom dress. It was white and silky and slit on either side. He also bought me dark brown stockings and white, five-inch stiletto sandals to complete a lovely ensemble. Mom took me to the hairdresser and nail salon that day and when I was dressed, even Mom and Daddy gasped at my beauty.

Charlie showed up right on time to pick me up and he brought me the most beautiful corsage. But I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why.

Charlie had the mooniest expression on his face as he looked at me. I know I was pretty, but was he forgetting that I was a boy? I hoped not.

Mom and Daddy took pictures of us and even posed us with Charlie standing behind me with his hands around my waist. I was so embarrassed, because Charlie had a huge hardon that he couldn’t avoid rubbing against my bottom. He gasped when he did it. Probably from embarrassment. But he didn’t move.

I said I would drive, but Charlie insisted.

All the way to the prom, Charlie told me how beautiful I was. I started getting that same creepy feeling, like I had in the car with Uncle Jack. But Charlie wasn’t an animal. And he knew I was a guy.

When we arrived, about 100 male heads turned in my direction. Was something between my teeth?

I said, to Charlie, "So, are there any stag chicks here? Let’s go see."

Something clicked in Charlie’s brain when I said that and he changed his whole manner. He was so masterful and in charge. For a moment, it confused me, but then I liked it. A lot.

"Let’s dance," he said.

Here’s what I thought: "You have to be kidding. It’s a slow dance. What will everyone say about two boys dancing? Who would lead?"

Here’s what I said: "OK."

Charlie led me to the dance floor and then led as we danced to "The Way You Look Tonight." Mom had taught me to dance in big heels and I was pretty good at it. Charlie was seven inches taller than I was, still two inches taller when I was in heels. He was holding me very closely and I could feel his big thing pressing up against me. And mine pressing up against him. For the first time in my life, I noticed how handsome Charlie was. Very handsome. And he was holding me very nicely.

What was happening to me? Charlie seemed happier than I had ever seen him. He leaned over and smelled the perfume on my neck.

Then the song ended.

Charlie locked eyes with me. I began to tremble. I wasn’t gay. I wasn’t. But suddenly, a sweet boy who apparently had been in love with me for many years and had never been able to tell me was kissing me. He showed me at that moment. And I adored it.

We broke the kiss and walked off the dance floor arm in arm. I wasn’t embarrassed. I didn’t even notice if anyone was there. All I could see was Charlie.

We sat and talked for an hour. He told me he loved me desperately and deeply. His devotion made me think about a lot of things.

I thought about what it meant for your best friend to want to be your lover. How flattering that was. And what perfect sense it made. I thought about how, because of my Miss Universe body and the way I dress, Charlie may have somehow gotten the idea that I was this gorgeous babe, instead of his boy chum, Brendan.

I thought about the ten thousand or so men and boys who had been drooling over me since I was twelve and how I may have misinterpreted all that.

I guess in some ways, I was a gorgeous babe. But then there was Daddy. He looked like a gorgeous babe too. And Daddy was all man, wasn’t he? He would be so disappointed in me if I, you know, surrendered to Charlie’s lust and helped him satisfy all his disgusting, animal needs.

But surrender sounded REALLY good to me at that moment. And Daddy also said, "A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do." Or maybe that was John Wayne. But Daddy would have said it. And he would have been right.

"Charlie," I said. "I think they’re playing our song."

It was Billy Joel’s "I love you just the way you are." Charlie glowed with love as he led me to the dance floor and we danced and kissed so sweetly. The other kids didn’t razz us. In fact, Charlie told me later, all the guys told Charlie how jealous they were because I was the prettiest, sexiest girl at the dance.

Me, a girl?

I had never thought of myself that way. But Charlie and about 100 other horny guys apparently saw me that way.

Hmmm.

Maybe I should try thinking a little differently.

Charlie and I chatted with a lot of people after that dance and everyone was so sweet. We left the dance at midnight and for the first time, I remembered that Charlie was sleeping over at my house that night. In my room. With me.

Ooohhh.

 

Chapter Six – Jessica

We sat in the car before we drove home and we kissed for fifteen lovely minutes. Charlie didn’t try any funny stuff, just kissing. Why not? Was I ugly? I was all ready to let him get to third base. Maybe even hit a grand slam.

We got to my home at one a.m. and Mom and Daddy were asleep.

I led Charlie up to my room and closed the door.

The masterful Charlie reappeared and it was a good thing, because I was a complete wreck.

Charlie unzipped my beautiful dress and let it puddle to the floor.

My hair was up in a twist. He released it so it hung on my shoulders and down my back. He told me to remove my slip and I did. He was so in command!

Charlie removed his jacket and shirt and tie. Then, <Gasp>, he removed his pants. I had never seen Charlie’s prick, though I had felt it against my bottom earlier that evening, as well as against my tummy when we were dancing. I saw it in all its rampant glory at that moment and it was worth the wait.

Charlie’s cock jutted proudly from his boxer shorts. It was long and thick, with a fine, meaty head and a very wet peehole. His balls were engorged with cum which I believed was in my honor, and I would have the pleasure of viewing in short order.

I was blushing ferociously as Charlie smiled and praised my lingerie-and-heels-clad body. Then he stepped forward, removed his underwear and held me against his naked, delicious skin.

I could feel his hot, hard thing rubbing against my girlish tummy as he took charge of my pleasure. I was his to command.

He kissed me, hard and deeply, with lots of tongue.

My poor cock was throbbing and rubbing against my silky panties, trying to escape. Charlie paid its bail. He liberated me from my bra, then my panties and I stood before him, the blushing virgin, in only my garter belt, stockings and heels.

Charlie lifted me in his manly arms and carried me to my bed. He laid me on my back, then, as if reading my mind, he began to kiss my nipples as he stroked my enflamed cock and balls.

The pleasure almost paralyzed me. I arched my back in erotic anguish as my lover venerated my nipples. Even the hint of erotic nipple contact is maddening to me. This was divine torment. And the loving strokes he applied to my cock had me whimpering for him to keep doing that forever.

Forever lasted about five agonizing minutes, at which time, every ounce of cum my body had ever produced decided to pursue other lodgings. I was in sweet misery as my balls erupted and pleasure pinned me to the mat. Thank goodness I was able to muffle my scream or daddy would have chased Charlie out with his shotgun.

And I hadn’t even had the opportunity to suck Charlie’s cock and swallow his big, hot load yet. That seemed imminent, however.

That girl stuff wasn’t half bad.

Charlie was still organizing the party and he had a plan. He gently moved me so that my torso was near the end of the bed, my knees and legs bent and up.

Charlie knelt between my legs and considered the buffet before him. My cum had formed a huge puddle on my breasts and tummy, with a big pool in my "innie" belly button. My cock was limp and drooling from its recent sweet punishment. My <blush> bottomhole was pink, wrinkled and horribly exposed to this rampant, aroused male creature. Oh, goodness. I thought I would hyperventilate with arousal.

Charlie began by making soft kisses and licks to clean my cummy tummy. I whimpered. Then he stopped.

"I want you to have a girl’s name, Sweetheart," my paramour whispered. "Do you have one in mind?"

I didn’t. I had never considered such a thing. I mean, I was all boy until that evening. I shook my head, very cutely if I do say so.

"In my mind," Charlie said, "I’ve always thought of you as ‘Jessica.’ May I call you that?"

I thought, call me anything, but make me cum again. But I said, "OK," in a really sweet, little girlish voice. Charlie really liked that.

Charlie rose from his knees, kissed me, said, "I love you, Jessica," then got back on his knees.

The bad boy began to kiss my balls. Giving them sweet little licks. I was glad that I had been naughty and put a little spray of perfume down there earlier in the evening. I didn’t know why at the time. It was just instinct.

Having your balls kissed and adored by the boy you love is a life-altering experience. And a very pleasant one. It certainly made me regain my former stiffness in short order. Especially when he lifted my ball bag and licked its wrinkly underside. But the payoff came next.

Charlie began to lick my pink little hole!!! Why was he doing that? And why was it sending cattle prod sensations of lust through me?

Unnnnh! He kept licking and digging. Then he stopped and put a finger into me! Then two fingers! He rummaged around in there and found what he was looking for. My prostate!

Ohhhhhhh. He rubbed my prostate with his fingers. It was maddening. Continuing his naughty massage, he began to kiss my poor, defenseless cock. I began to squeal rather loudly as he tortured my anus and sucked my cock simultaneously.

I could have died happily at that moment.

But wait, there was more.

You won’t be surprised to learn that all that sweet friction led to another huge, cum-filled conclusion, with my guts ripped out and then tacked back on with a few loose stitches.

I was panting and squealing and begging for Charlie’s cock. In my mouth. In my armpit. In my nose. In my hand. In my bottom.

Mom and Daddy must have been sleeping really soundly that night.

Charlie, the rogue, mounted me, covering me with his huge, manly body. I was limp with the exhaustion of two Godzilla-like orgasms. He was bigger and stronger than I. And he had me pinned and on my back. I was a helpless little girl, subject to all his disgusting desires.

I was hoping he had quite a few.

He did.

The boy had me quite warmed up and wasted no more time on preliminaries, other than a deep, delicious kiss that almost made me cum again.

He aimed his big, hot, hard cock at my tiny, defenseless hole and took advantage of me. He pushed into me with one long, steady stroke. I squealed with joy, not pain and, even though my exhausted cock was limp, I had a gargantuan orgasm, as only watery drool oozed from my capitulated cock.

I grabbed Charlie’s back and held on for the ride of my life. I was being fucked! Royally and lovingly. And skillfully. Charlie was a terrific lover who actually loved me. At that moment, I knew I loved him too.

Like any man, Charlie began to focus on his own orgasm. He was grunting and stroking and getting red in the face. I decided to help him by cupping his balls in my warm hand and giving them a nice cuddle.

That seemed to be the little extra he needed to fall off Cum Cliff. It was a long way down for both of us. I felt his hot, sticky goo in my bowels and had to resist the urge to poop. Waves of pleasure slammed into me and left me for dead.

I adored giving Charlie such pleasure. He was happier than I had ever seen him. And his eyes sparkled with love for me.

When his cock dribbled form my anus, Charlie’s cock sparkled with cum and flecks of my poop. But that didn’t stop me from giving my lover the first blowjob either of us had experienced.

I felt as if my life to that point had been prelude. I was a beautiful, sexy, intensely feminine person with the capability and the inclination to give and receive massive quantities of intense pleasure.

Charlie seemed to think so. I was on my knees, sucking, licking and tonguing Charlie’s delicious cock, balls and <blush> "dirty" for almost an hour. Whenever he approached his climax, I stopped and cuddled for a few minutes, then resumed my scrumptious teasing. I eventually took pity on him and allowed him to make a gooey blast that almost drowned me.

I had a face covered with Charlie’s cum. His balljuice was oozing from my bottom, and I had a considerable amount of my own goo coating a good portion of my body.

Knock-down-drag-out fucking is a messy business.

But we weren’t done yet.

We got zero sleep that night as Charlie filled my bottom with two more of his divine loads and my mouth with one. We passed out about five a.m. and somehow awakened around seven-thirty so we could shred a few documents and close a few paper trails.

We even convinced ourselves that the air freshener we used was masking a cum smell that was reported on Venezuelan television that evening.

Either Mom and Daddy had lost their olfactory senses or they were being polite.

Anyway, it was the best night of either of our lives and the central turning point in mine.

But what would I tell my idol, Daddy?

 

Chapter Seven – All is Resolved

Charlie and I spent the next two weeks making love every chance we got. In the stalls in the school boys’ rooms, in broom closets, in his house when his parents were gone. And in my room in my house at "sleepovers." Mom and Daddy didn’t ask any questions and I didn’t tell. It didn’t really work for the Army either.

Then Mom told me that she and her sister Laurie, Uncle Jack’s wife, would be going away for a few days to visit Grandma in Pennsylvania. Uncle Jack had asked that I help him with the little girls once in a while when they were gone. "Would you mind, Brendan?" Mom asked.

What to do? I didn’t have a reason I could articulate, other than "Uncle Jack wants to pull my panties down and fuck me."

Then it hit me. Why not?

I thought I would enjoy a good shagging from a big, hairy older man. And we weren’t related.

Sure, I loved Charlie. But we were too young to be exclusive. And if I was caught, I would use my nuclear arsenal – tears, begging for forgiveness and a large portion of make-up sex.

"OK, Mom," I said.

Mom hugged me. She was so sweet.

The first night Mom left, Uncle Jack asked me to drive over to his house, since he would have had to dress and bring the kids. Daddy agreed.

When I got to Uncle Jack’s house, I could see that he really did need my help. I worked feverishly for about two hours to get the kids fed and ready for bed. Jack sat there and watched, probably figuring out how he was going to fuck me. After I read them a story, it occurred to me that I was being a dope. I did all the work and then he wanted to fuck me after? What were we, married? If we were, at least I could write checks on his account and I would have a big diamond.

I told him he owed me ten dollars for the work. He looked like a disappointed little boy, but had the sense to recognize that I wasn’t kidding.

I got in the car about two hours before I told Daddy I would be home. I was proud of my assertiveness with Uncle Jack. I loved being Charlie’s love slave, but he was good and sweet to me. Jack was just a big-cocked jerk. I planned to leave his kind to the other girls.

As I drove home I was thinking about calling Charlie and inviting him for our eighth sleepover in the past two weeks. I pulled into our driveway wondering if Charlie’s parents and my parents were beginning to suspect.

Hmmm.

I got out of the car and noticed that Daddy’s friend Dennis’ car was parked on the street by our house.

Before I went in, I peeked in our front window and saw something that completely astounded me.

Daddy was on the floor on his back, with his knees up and his calves over Dennis’ shoulders. Daddy was wearing his sexiest black stockings and six-inch pumps and his perfect titties were bouncing on every stroke of Dennis’ cock into Daddy’s pretty bottom.

My first thought was, "Dennis is raping Daddy!" I was set to run in there and kick Dennis’ balls, then call the police.

Then I got a good look at Daddy. He was in ecstasy. Daddy loved having Dennis fuck him. They were kissing and cooing like two lovers.

My Daddy was gay!!!

My heart sank. I was humiliated. And disappointed.

Then it hit me. Daddy wasn’t any gayer than I was. He was a feminine man who liked women and men. And they liked him. A lot.

Dennis was having a seizure-like orgasm. I watched as Daddy kissed Dennis for a long while, then sucked his cock to a messy spermstorm. Dennis then sucked Daddy, who squealed like a little girl when he came.

I had achieved my life's ambition all right. I was just like Daddy.

I got back in the car and drove around for a while until Dennis’ car disappeared from the street. Then I made a lot of noise and pretended that I just got home.

Daddy smiled, hugged me and said, "I know you were out there, Brendan. Or shall I call you Jessica, the name Charlie calls you when he’s making love to you? My girl name is Angela. We’re very lucky, you and I, son. We get to see and do things almost no one else on earth does. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about your nature, but you had to find out for yourself."

Daddy is the best! I hugged him and we had a long, girlish, share-your-feelings talk.

Then he said, "I’m glad you didn’t sleep with that Jack. He's a jerkoff. He’s been after me for ten years. Say, would you like to start coming to my regular Wednesday poker game? I think the guys would really like you. And goodness knows, my bottom could use a rest. "

Huh? "But Daddy," I said. "I don’t know how to play cards."

Daddy looked at me very strangely. He stared for a moment and blinked twice, slowly. Then he hugged me and said, "Your mother says you’ll get over that dimness, but I’m not so sure. Anyway, I think you’re sweet.’

Dimness? Did I miss something? Oh, well.

"You’re sweet too, Daddy," I said. And I hugged him.

But I wondered what Daddy meant about me being "dim."

 

 

 

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