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i-want-my-son-1

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Subject: I Want My Son This is a story of a 19-year-old who discovers his dad’s fantasies of him in a diary. If you object to gay sex or incest, leave now. Let me know what you think. Emails are welcome. And donate to . They do a great job! Love, Ben Highlander _____________________________________ PIERRE’S POV “Son, I am a 45-year-old straight man. I have been married to your mother for 23 years. She and I are very happy, but we have not had sex in a long time. The reason is that I have had the hots for you, Pierre, my 19-year-old son, since you were 14. When you hit puberty, it was as if you suddenly came into focus for me. I loved you while you were growing up, and took good care of you. But when I started to *smell* you, that you were no longer a simple child, something changed in me… I WANTED you in a way I had never wanted anyone before. And I still want you. I want to touch you and hold you in a way that is not right for me to want… Oh God, Pierre, I wish…” I closed the diary but kept my finger in the page. My heart was beating in my chest. This was a dream come true. You see, my name is Pierre, and I am in love with my father. In my hand is the diary that I accidentally discovered in his study when I was looking for something else. I would not read it, except that it accidentally fell out of the bookcase and landed with a page open and I saw my name, and couldn’t stop myself. I swallowed and opened the plain brown book again. “I wish I could tell you how much I need to make love to you. I wish I could tell you how seeing you come out of the bathroom with your hair wet, and just a towel around your waist makes my dick leak. I wish I could stop you and push you against the wall with my one hand and gently unknot the white towel from around your waist and let it fall to the ground and see your beautiful uncut 19-year old dick hanging between your beautiful thighs above your sperm-filled nuts. I wish I could take your handsome 19-year-old face between my thumb and forefinger and pull you gently closer and kiss your gorgeous mouth, smell your breath. My son’s breath. Oh fuck, Pierre…” I couldn’t believe it. There on the page, below my name, was a stain. It could only be… I leaned down to the page and smelled it. It was still quite recent because I could definitely detect the alkaline smell of cum. My dad’s cum, on a page, describing what he would like to do to me… I took another deep sniff. It was as if the smell went directly istanbul travesti to my cock. I knew I was going to cum there and then. I pulled out my 19-year-old cock and gasped as I shot my load onto the page, directly below my dad’s deposit. I groaned as spurt upon spurt of thick white spooge squirted out of the pulsating shiny tip of my big dick onto the page where my dad had done the same thing. As I squirted I imagined how turned on he must have been. I imagined his hairy dad cock, his huge nuts pulled up in the wrinkly bag, spitting out the slimy chunky load onto the page where he wrote my name. I imagined him groaning my name with every squirt until there was nothing more to come, and I imagined his heart beating like a hammer in his chest as he shakily exhaled, still saying my name over and over again: “Pierre, Pierre…” Fuck, that was hot. My own heartbeat like a hammer in my chest. I knew that I couldn’t close the pages like that because they would stick together and he would know that I had read his diary. He would only be back later so I left it on his desk to dry and came back just before I expected him home, to close it and replace it. I couldn’t believe this. How was I going to go back to just being normal? Every time I was in the same room as him I was going to have an epic cock-stand and if I smelled his dad smell, I was going to struggle not to squirt in my jock. Jesus, how was I going to stop myself from seducing him outright? DAD’S POV “Dear diary, *sad smile* God, I just can’t deal with this anymore. I go to work, I do my job, I kiss my wife when I get home, I watch TV and take a shower and go to bed. I go through the motions but I’m dead inside. The only thing that keeps me alive is seeing my son, Pierre. “Jesus, son, you are what keeps me sane. Seeing you in the morning before I leave for work holds me until I get home at night. When I do, I first look out for you. Across from me at the dinner table, the sight of you is life itself. You have no idea that you are what gives meaning to my life. When I look at you, your mom, bless her heart, disappears. In my mind, I slip my shoe off my foot and reach over to you with my bare foot and put my foot on yours. You take a deep breath and your mom asks if everything is alright because you suddenly seem to be…somewhere else. I nod slightly in the direction of the bedrooms upstairs and make an excuse to your mom. I know she’s got a whole lot of stuff she needs kadıköy travesti to finish here. I go into your bedroom and close the door. I don’t know if you will get the idea and follow me. “Baby. A moment later I hear your light tread come up the stairs. Pierre. Oh God, how much I need you, how much I love you. Please love me too. Then you’re in the room. “Dad? What was that about? What are you doing in my room?” “I come here sometimes when you’re not here to… be close to you.” I look down because I’m ashamed. “Dad, you know we can talk anytime you want to. I love spending time with you.” You have a question in your eyes. “I’m not sure you would feel that way if you knew…” “Knew what dad? You know I look up to you. There is nothing you could do to make me love you less. We’ve always been close and nothing could change that.” There is so much love and doubt in your eyes. “Son, I have been in love with you since you were 14. I come into your room and look at your pictures of you and your friends on your computer because I’m jealous of them and I wish I could spend the time with you that they do.” Comprehension begins to dawn in your eyes. I see the beginning of an understanding take root and tears start to form. Oh God, I knew it. The next words out of your mouth will be words of hate and betrayal. I’m going to lose my boy because I’m a sick, perverted old man with an incestuous love for my beautiful 19-year-old son. “Oh dada!” I have not heard you call me that since you were eight. Suddenly I know everything’s going to be ok. You walk over to me where I sit on your bed. You sit yourself down next to me and look shyly at me from under your floppy fringe. Your green eyes are moist and full of love. “So what do you want to do about it?” you whisper. You put your hand on my leg just below where my shorts end. Then you slip it in the bottom of my shorts and find my pouch. Your forefinger at first just strokes the hard lump you find there and then slides in under the edge of my underpants to find the tip of my cock and then rubs the wet piss hole you find there. I do the same to you. I feel that the front of your jock is soaked with precum. I lean over and put my mouth to yours. You part your beautiful lips and let me in. We both breathe in deeply through our noses and begin to make out tenderly. I know you share my love for you. “But I don’t know that’s how it will work out, so instead I write down my fantasies here bakırköy travesti in this safe place and silently dream of a world in which my son can be my lover.” PIERRE’S POV I am, at the same time, so turned on and saddened by what I read here, in my dad’s secret confessions. Since reading the first entry and jacking off over the page and adding my hot cum to his, I have not been able to get it out of my mind. I’m finding moments to be with him, to sit next to him on the couch with my knee touching his, something I stopped doing when I discovered that I had feelings, bad feelings, for my dad, shortly after I discovered that my cock could do more than piss. I noticed him looking at me with a question in his eyes, but just smiling and looking a bit sad. He doesn’t know I know and he doesn’t think there could be a world in which I could feel the way he does. But I don’t have the courage to tell him. It would change everything. What if he loves me until he can have me, but then grows to hate me when he realizes I’m going to change that I’m always going to be in love with him and that I silently love-hate my mother because she has access to him whenever she wants it? I rub my cock through my pants because what he has written here is so hot, so close to my own fantasies of him, and at the same time I feel tears dripping down my face onto the pages of his love confessions for me because I ache inside to feel his weight on me, to feel his tongue in my mouth, to feel his cock in my…yes, in my ass. I said it. That’s what I want. I want to be my dad’s lover in the most intimate way possible. I want him to fuck me with love in his eyes as my ankles frame his handsome face. I want his breath to get quicker and quicker as he gets closer and closer and when he hits my love button just before he ejaculates his daddy juice into my bum, I squirt my 19-year-old spunk with such force that it hits his mouth. As he cums up my bum he leans down and we kiss with my jizz all over our faces. We taste my ball juice in our mouths… Oh fuck, oh fuck… and I cum in my jock without even touching myself, as I hold his diary in my hand and cry over a love that can never be. I can feel myself squirt in my pants and I know that it was the biggest load ever. My asshole contracts around the place where I wish his dad-cock could be, in a room that smells of him, where he fantasizes about me and dreams of the same things as I do. I shudder as the last spasm of my hands-free climax leaves my body feeling shaky. Then I close his diary after kissing the page where my tears fell and put it back exactly as I found it because I don’t want him to know that I violated his privacy because I’m a dirty little pervert daddy-lover.

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