Gender: Male Age: Secret Location: N/A
I wrote this piece some time ago, but to be completely honest I ruined it starting in Chapter two.
Normally I write a story and however it comes out it comes out. I do a little bit of editing but that's it. I don't second guess myself I just go with whatever I see. In the case of this story though that was a mistake. Starting in chapter two of the original version of this story I lost the original exploratory mood of this story and I went in another direction completely. I should have never published that second chapter.
I decided to go back and fix that mistake. This is the first chapter. I added a few things, spiced it up just a little, but all in all it is the same as the original. When I get to chapter two it will be a complete and utter rewrite.
I hope you enjoy,
I Think He's Sleeping
Most kids my age probably hate the idea of their parents being divorced, but I was actually relieved when it happened. Even though it was my fault.
I know what you're thinking. Every kid thinks it is their fault when their parents get divorced, but in my case it's actually true. I was the cause of my parents divorce. I didn't do it intentionally. It didn't happen like that, but that doesn't change the way things did happen.
Let me explain.
I like to masturbate. I don't know if that makes me a bad person or not. I don't think it does, but sometimes I do feel a little embarrassed whenever the subject comes up. It started when I was about ten, and the first time it happened it was kind of an accident. I was laying in my bed listening to my mother berate my father, which was unpleasant, but normal. My mom never has many nice things to say about anybody, but when it comes to my dad she's down right hateful, and spent most of her time belittling him whenever they were together, and even when they weren't.
I ended up covering my ears that night, curling up in a ball, and stuffing a pillow between my legs, for comfort, even though my mom had told me quite a few times before not to do that. It was probably why I did it in the first place. I ended up discovering why she told me not to that night. I had shifted my weight, and my pillow rubbed against me in just the right way.
It felt wonderful.
I had never felt anything like it before, but I loved the way it felt, and I found myself probing beneath my panties before I went to sleep at night on a regular basis, just so that I could have something of my own—something to look forward to on a daily basis, and to make me feel good.
As time went on I started to do it more than just at night, and I also realized that the more my parents fought the more I did it. It was like I was doing it to comfort myself or something. One day while I was in the shower I used the removable shower head. The feeling it gave me was so powerful that it actually brought me to my knees, and it took me a minute to recover. The feeling was so intense that my vision went blurry when it happened. I didn't know it at the time but that was the first time that I actually had an orgasm, and my hobby became an obsession.
That's how I ended up inadvertently causing my parents divorce. My mom stormed into my room one night while I was doing it, and had the light on before I had time to recover. She literally caught me with my fingers down my panties, and my legs spread wide open.
Her reaction wasn't pleasant at all. She grabbed me by the hair, dragged me to the floor, and started slapping me silly. She called me every name in the book, screaming out “whore,” and “slut,” as if she had just caught me screwing an entire basketball team or something. I found out first hand what it was to be the direct subject of her wrath, and it scared the crap out of me. I thought she was literally going to kill me.
Until my dad came running into the room.
Before that day I thought that my dad was afraid of her. Whenever she yelled at him, or threatened him, or even occasionally hit him he had always cowered away from her. My dad wasn't a big man, but he was strong enough that he could defend himself, but before that day he had never done anything. He just took whatever punishment she was dealing out, and normally did it without even saying a word.
That time was different though. He only paused in the doorway for one single second. I had just barely enough time to see the anger flash in his eyes as his brain soaked in the sight before him. After that he lunged at her, grabbed her by the hair and tossed her aside and away from me as if she were made out of feathers. I couldn't believe it.
She couldn't either. She got a dumbfounded look on her face, and I watched her eyes as they went from me to him, back to me, and then to him again. I could see the confusion she had, and the dilemma that was going on in her mind was written on her face like the want ad in a newspaper. My father stood in between her with his fists balled up, just daring her to make another move.
She didn't though. She knew he wasn't having it. My mom might be mean and hateful, but she wasn't stupid. She could see that he meant business, and that he was capable of killing her to protect me. She made no move that night, but the next day she informed him that she was leaving him, and taking me with her. I hated that I had to go live with her, but my dad fought for full custody and lost. The judge said he worked too much, but he did also say that because of her outbreak that if one single hospital visit occurred that she would lose custody altogether.
She never laid a hand on me again, but that didn't stop her from berating me in my dad's place.
My outlook on my dad changed though. I don't think of him as a wimp anymore. He is and always will be my personal hero. I love and respect him more than I ever did before, and there isn't anything I wouldn't do for him. I guess that's where this story really begins.
It wasn't long after I turned fourteen that I went over my dad's on a Friday and actually expected to have the night to myself. That part was unannounced to my mother though. My dad had asked me if I still wanted to come over despite the fact that he didn't plan on being there all night. I was glad that he asked, and I am pretty sure that he only asked because he knew how much I hated being at my mom's all of the time.
Anyway, I pretty much begged him not to tell my mom he wasn't going to be home, and that I definitely still wanted to come over even if he wasn't going to be there. He told me that he had a date lined up, and my heart stopped cold.
I sat there speechless on the phone when he told me he had a date. I didn't know what to say and at first he didn't say much else either. A lot of things were going through my head. Some of them were things that I could tell him and some of them were things that I didn't dare say.
It wasn't that I was in love with him or anything, because that wasn't it. Things were finally the way that I wanted them, or at least as much as they could be anyway, and I just didn't want anybody else coming into the picture and screwing that up, but I j just couldn't tell him that. I loved going over there. I loved the fact that it was just the two of us when I did go over there. The way that things were I was able to sit with him in his recliner, wrap my arms around him, and just be with my hero.
There was nobody there to tell me that I was too old to sit on his lap, or that it was wrong or naughty. It didn't feel that way to me, and I never heard him complain. I liked that I didn't have to share him, and maybe that made me selfish, but it was the way I felt.
He was my dad for cripes sake. How could that be “naughty?” But that's always what my mom used to say whenever she had been around and I wanted to sit with him.
We talked a little more that night, but the conversation hadn't been the same after that. The truth was that I was scared of losing him, but at the same time I wanted him to be happy so I didn't want to discourage him from getting back onto the dating horse.
Friday night came and my mom dropped me off at the usual time. My dad was wearing a dress shirt and a pair of dress pants so I knew that whoever it was that he was supposed to go on his date with was someone that he cared about impressing.
I decided that having the night alone wasn't going to be a total loss because the weekend before I had accidentally ran across my dad's video collection. I was actually looking forward to exploring my sexuality a little bit. He had a pretty extensive collection and even though I was too scared to do anything on my own for real I wasn't too scared to watch other people doing it on a television screen, and besides that I still had my nightly obsession, and the idea of giving myself an orgasm while watching an actual movie had my heart doing back-flips.
Before that I never imagined that my dad was into that stuff, but I guess when you are alone 24/7 you gotta do something, and it even made me feel like we both had something in common. I actually loved the idea of him laying in his bed and pleasuring himself much in the same way that I did.
Normally when I got to my dad's we would make ourselves some kind of dinner, and then we'd sit together on his recliner and watch whatever we could find on T.V. But that night it was different, because he was dressed up with his shirt ironed, and he had to save his stomach for his date.
Instead he sat in the recliner alone and I stayed on the couch. We were both preoccupied. His mind was on his date, and mine was on what I was going to watch while he was gone.
The week before I had been putting his clothes away when I ran across his “stash.” I only had time to glance through it before I heard him coming, but I saw enough to get my curiosity up. Before that I had never even actually seen a man with a hard-on before. On the backs of the videos there were not only hard-ons, but women sucking on them. I knew that women did that and everything, but to actually see one going into a woman's mouth lit my insides on fire.
My friend Jenny had actually done that once with a guy at the movies and she had told me about it. She said that he came right away, and it surprised her, but it didn't taste that bad. I was way too afraid to even think about doing that with a guy, but to think that she actually did it at the movie theater where someone else could possibly see her was pretty amazing in my mind.
I knew that something was changing inside of me because it wasn't too long before that when the idea of putting a guy's thing in my mouth would have grossed me out, but as I laid there on the couch thinking about the possibility I could feel myself getting a little wet at the idea. There was just something about sucking a guy off and letting him “blow his load” inside of my mouth that intrigued me. My mom would have slapped my face and called me a whore for having those thoughts but at that point I didn't care. I was too scared to actually do it, but the idea of letting a guy do that to me was giving me butterflies.
I was also curious about some of the actual movies that my dad had. The movie that was on the top was titled “Can I Call You Daddy?” and had a picture of a gorgeous blonde girl in ponty-tails, and an extremely short skirt. The blouse on the girl was about four sizes too small and her large breasts were just about falling out of her top.
On the back of the cover there were guys that were even older than my dad having sex with different teenaged girls. I was sure that the girls were at least eighteen, but that didn't change the perverted nature of the tape, and I couldn't help but wonder if older guys actually fantasized about sleeping with their daughters. If older guys did and my dad had a video of it did that mean that he fantasized about me? I wanted to watch the video. I had to know if these girls actually called any of the men on it daddy. I had decided that if they did, and my dad hadn't run out to the garbage can with the video in his hand, that he might actually think about me. His “precious little girl” in a perverted way.
Maybe that should have bothered me but it didn't. The thought of my dad jerking off while thinking of me actually made me feel kind of special. I would never take that away from him if that's what he wanted to do.
As I was sitting there thinking these thoughts his cell phone rang. He picked it up and I watched him as he had a nearly wordless conversation with whoever was on the other end. All he was saying was, “uh huh,” and “okay.”
He hung up the phone in silence and left the living room.
When he came back in he was wearing a t-shirt, and cotton shorts. He didn't have to explain to me that his date was off. I had mixed emotions at that point. On the one hand I wouldn't be able to see what was on those videos and I was disappointed. On the other hand I was going to get to spend the night with my dad, and I wasn't going to have to worry about some broad changing up our routine.
As soon as he sat down I went into the kitchen and grabbed him a beer. I knew that he would want at least one, and in all probability more than that. I handed it to him and plopped myself down next to him and cuddled close. Neither of us said a word. He began stroking my hair as I cuddled in and draped my leg over his.
Normally I just cuddled in and then focused my attention on whatever was on the television, but this time my mind just couldn't concentrate on anything that was happening on the television. Our favorite show, CSI was on, but nothing was registering with me.
My glances kept being drawn back to my dad's crotch, and I was self conscious about the proximity of his member and my hand. If he got a hard on I was pretty sure that it would rub up against my wrist. My pinky was resting on the waistband of his sweat pants and my thumb was just below his belly button. It was a perfectly natural resting position for my hand, and I was sure that my hand had probably been in that exact same spot a thousand times before, but before that night I had never even thought about it. That night I was thinking about it though. I was getting that tingling feeling and I liked it. It was different than when I just laid in my bed, because it was more real. It wasn't just me touching myself and thinking about some guy. My dad was there, and he was real, and my hand was so close to his sexual organ that I could really touch it if I were just brave enough.
The thing that kind of scared me a little bit though was that I knew that if, for some stupid reason, my dad had gotten a hard on, I wouldn't have moved my hand. As a matter of fact the horny little teenager that was growing inside of me actually wanted him to get one just so I could feel it up against my wrist. I knew if it happened that I would leave my hand right where it was, and I was pretty sure that he wouldn't ask me to move it.
I felt kind of dirty sitting there thinking these thoughts about my dad, but at that very moment dirty seemed to be a good thing. My heart was beating like a marching band, and butterflies were dancing the jig in my stomach, to top it off my panties felt like they were soaked clean through. I had thought plenty of times about doing things with a few of the guys from school, and it had turned me on enough to make me touch myself beneath my covers before I went to sleep at night. I was positive that if I had reached down right then and there that I would not only have had an orgasm, but I would have been screaming with the passion that I hadn't heard coming from my parents bedroom the last couple of years of their marriage.
I wanted to go further. I tried desperately to think of a way or an excuse to lower my hand. I couldn't gather the courage to do it though. My hand was frozen where it was and I didn't have the will to move it. I was terrified of the reaction my father might have. I kept picturing him swatting my hand away in disgust. I mean he had those videos, but that didn't necessarily mean that he actually wanted to do anything. If he did then why hadn't he ever tried anything. If he had, I knew at that point, that I would let him. He could do anything he wanted and I wouldn't stop him.
“Can you grab me another beer sweetie?” He asked me. My gut jumped to my throat as if I had been busted when he said that. I jumped up, ran to the kitchen retrieved him another Bud, and headed back to the living room. I handed it to him, and couldn't help but notice the tired look on his face. I knew at that point that he wouldn't make it through his second beer. He would be asleep before he finished it, and I felt disappointment creep over me.
I was playing a game, but he wasn't in on it.
I took my place next to him on the chair, and out of pure impulse I put my hand lower then it was before when I laid it down. This time my middle finger was on his waist band. The blood was coursing through my head so hard that I actually felt like I was going to pass out. Deep down I was disappointed though because there was nothing beneath my hand like I had hoped there would be. If my dad's package had been below my hand I know that I wouldn't have made any attempt to correct it. I wanted to feel him, and I don't know where his tool was located, but it wasn't beneath my hand.
My mind had been so distracted that I never thought to actually look for it. Now that I was though I could see the outline of it just below where my hand had ended up. If I had went just another half inch further south I would have hit the jackpot. It was exciting to me. Just to know that my hand was so close to his manhood, and that so far, he wasn't making any move to stop me.
Did he notice? My pinky was resting just above his bulge, and I couldn't help but wonder if he was aware of it. Was there any part of his brain that realized how close my now sweaty palm was to the organ that helped to produce me?
Once again I couldn't make any further moves. I thought I was pretty much pushing my luck as it was and I was still hoping that he would do something to meet me half way. If he gave me any indication that he wanted something to happen then that would have given me the courage I needed. He didn't though. I could feel him move every now and then to sip his beer but that was about it.
Before long I could feel his breathing began to get slower. He was drifting off. The game was over, and I had failed. At least I felt like I did. I wanted to be able to turn my dad on, but nothing had happened. He hadn't even started to get hard and I kind of felt like a total loser.
I moved my hand away, and actually felt like I had to fight back tears. I could hear my dad's rhythmic breathing get rougher. He would soon be sawing logs, and I was just about to get up when I noticed the mound in his sweats beginning to grow.
It didn't stop where I thought it would either. Whatever my dad was dreaming about must have been pretty good, because he went from soft to hard pretty quickly, and in my dirty little head I was imagining that it was me he was dreaming of. I watched as his bulge inched its way toward his waistband, but it didn't stop there. It kept going.
The bottom hem of his shirt was covering the top of his sweatpants. I took a deep breath and pulled it up. The head of his dick was actually sticking up and that single funny shaped eye was staring right at me. I couldn't believe how big it looked as it stared back at me.
I balled up my fist and looked at it, comparing the sizes. The head of his erection wasn't as big as my fist, but it was terrifyingly close. I couldn't help but to think about that monster, and how my mother had somehow had it inside of her. The amazing thing was that I wasn't terrified even though I felt like I should be.
I kept imagining what it would be like to have that thing inside of me, stretching the lining of my vaginal walls as he pushed it further into me. I knew that I wasn't brave enough to straddle him and put him inside of me right then and there, but a big part of me wanted to do just that.
I acted on impulse as these thoughts were traveling through my brain. I reached down and began to caress the head of his dick.
It felt so hard and yet so soft at the same time. The head of it seemed just pliable enough. It was perfect in it's design. Like a missile designed for burrowing. I traced the head of my father's dick with curiosity in mind getting used to the way that it felt beneath my fingers.
That's when precum began to ooze it's way out of his pee hole. I knew it was pre cum from the giggly girl talk at school, and I knew as soon as I saw it that I was going to taste it. There was no doubt in my mind that I would have some of that in my mouth. I felt like a little tramp as I contemplated how I would get my first taste of the goo. I traced my fingers over and through it. It felt incredibly slippery as I tested it between my fingers.
I had my fingers half way to my mouth when, once again, my dirty impulsive mind took over. Instead of completing the distance I bent my head down and licked the top of my dad's erection. I swirled my tongue around the top of it and took as much of him into my mouth as I dared to without waking him up. I knew that he was a naturally heavy sleeper, and with a couple of beers in him I was pretty sure I could get away with quite a bit without waking him up, but the truth was that a part of me wanted to wake him up. Somehow I had gone beyond the point of caring what his reaction would be. A part of me just wanted him to wake up and catch me with his dick in my mouth. What would he do. Shoo me away. I kind of doubted it.
I could taste the salty sweat of him, and that didn't turn me off either. I was beyond caring about where he had been. I didn't care that this wasn't the most sanitary act in the world. The fact that he peed from this tool only fueled my passion and stoked my fires. Let him pee from it if that was what he had to do. It didn't matter to me. I wanted to suck it anyway. I felt like a lunatic after they just escaped from thirty years of solitary confinement. There was nothing in the world that was going to keep me from my next meal. Even if that meal was my father's penis. I wanted to gobble up every bite of it.
I thought that there was a better chance that he would miss having his dick sucked so badly that if he did wake up he would probably not be able to resist having a set of lips, any set of lips, around the shaft of his dick. I pictured him putting his hands on the back of my head and helping me get him further into my mouth.
My pussy began dripping even harder as I thought about my dad enjoying his precious daughter pleasuring him with her mouth. My impulsed took over again and I carefully lifted his waistband and pulled his sweats down in the front so that I could get more of him into my mouth. I couldn't get very much in, but I began to slide my head up and down enjoying the way that his rigidness felt against my lips and tongue. I could actually feel the veins in his dick as they passed beneath my lips.
I pulled my mouth away so that I could get a better look at him. I stood him straight up and began to stroke up and down his shaft while I viewed him from different angles. The shape of him reminded me of one of those ancient soldiers clothed in their silvery armor. The head of his dick looked like the helmet that they wore, but only the eye socket was on the very top instead of the front.
I took that helmet back into my mouth and gave him a sloppy wet kiss. Letting the spittle flow onto it as I gave my sleeping father the best blow job I could manage. I loved having him in my mouth and I knew that this wouldn't be the last time that I had him there. I just hoped he would be awake the next time I did, so that he could actually enjoy what I was doing to him.
I couldn't help but to wonder what my mother would think of me if she were there. Not that I really cared, but the devilish little girl in me reveled in my rebellion. She didn't give two shits about pleasing him. She never did. She cared only about her own happiness, but I did care, and this was my little way of proving it.
I was just beginning to get a rhythm when my father blew his load into my mouth. It tasted slimy. That's the only way I could describe it as his balls pumped mouth filling squirt after mouth filling squirt into my mouth. As hard as I tried there was no way that I could swallow it all.
I kind of panicked after that. I put him away, and slithered into my room. I crawled into my bed and shed all of my clothes. I had just relieved my dad, and now it was time to relieve myself.
I couldn't believe that I had just done what I had done and I waited for the waves of guilt to wash over me. They didn't though. I was actually glad that I had done it. My only regret was that he never woke up.
I was pretty sure that wasn't going to matter though. I had left quite a mess on his stomach, and there would be no denying that something had happened when he woke up to it. Whether that happened sometime tonight, or in the morning wouldn't matter. He would find a load of cum on his stomach and there was only one other person in the house that could have helped him make it.
That person was me, and when he woke up I knew that he would figure that out.
I thought about this as I gave myself my biggest orgasm ever.
Then I thought about it again and gave myself two more!
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