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Being Kept At Home

By orangebinder

submitted September 14, 2007

Categories: Family Fun

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It was around midnight when I heard him coming down the basement steps. I happily switched off the TV and got ready for him. I had left the door open and he entered without a word. He walked toward me in the nearly dark room and dropped his robe in mid-stride. When he got to the edge of the bed I took his semi-soft cock in my mouth, swallowing him completely in one gulp till my nose was buried in his wiry bush. My fingers circled his nutsack and pulled down. The first time I did this he shot off right away. He wasn’t that quick now but I knew he really liked it by how quickly he got hard. My other hand freely roamed his broad butt and strong thighs. He was my fantasy, my dream man who came to me in the dark and always left before morning, but he was flesh and blood and I loved him. I also loved our time together. I knew that before he left that night my butt would be fucked hard, I would swallow at least one load of his cum, and we would kiss until our lips were raw.

I never required this lover to wear a condom. For the last twenty-five years there was only one other person he had ever had sex with and I knew she was cleaner than kitchen disinfectant. I welcome his cum up my butt, in my mouth, sprayed on my face, anywhere and everywhere. I savor the thick stickiness in my butt after he has his way with me, the squishy fullness when I walk. I linger over the rich creaminess of his cum when he fills my mouth--great snotty globs of it. There needs to be some evidence and residue after sex, not just antiseptic sterility afterwards. With him I can savor his taste long after he leaves me to return upstairs to his other life.

In all of his forty-plus years of life, I think I was the first to suck his dick, touch his balls, or do anything but lay back like a dead corpse and allow him to pound away (and then make him feel guilty for his dirty “animal” lust). I showed him that lust (even dirty “animal” lust) was to be enjoyed, not feel guilty about. There was nothing wrong with feeling good. He had never used his mouth except for a dry tight-lipped kiss and never his tongue. He had never felt a warm wet mouth on his body or the excitement that an exploring tongue can provide. He had never even felt an exploring hand or finger searching out the mountains and valleys of his body before. With me it was okay to enjoy sex, to actually make love rather than just go through the steps of procreation. In that sense, I was his first lover, as opposed to a mere sex partner. But I was just learning myself so together we explored what our bodies could do.

It all started the summer after I graduated from high school when I came out to my parents. Well I didn’t come out so much as I was discovered. After a couple of years of begging and cajoling, my parents had finally allowed me to move my bedroom down into a spare room in the basement where I would have more privacy. There was a separate basement entrance and one night I brought a boyfriend home with me to spend the night. The next morning Dad found our naked bodies intertwined on the bed sound asleep. It was quite a shock – to all concerned. It started almost immediately after that. We never talked about it. He never said a word or asked a single question. I never offered an explanation or brought up the subject. When he came to me that night I knew instantly what he wanted and I gladly gave it to him. He was thankful but never said a word. Words weren’t necessary, they only got in the way.

Mom only allows Dad to crawl on top of her once a week, max. She keeps careful track. Even then she just lays there letting him pound away until he gets his rocks off and then runs to take a hot bath. If Dad weren’t so into boobs and pussy I don’t think he would bother. The rest of the week he comes to me and I take very good care of him.

In the beginning Dad was like most straights having mansex – it was only a matter of convenience or the lack of alternatives, like fucking butt in prison and telling yourself that you’re still a real man so long as you are on top and never touch a cock or let it poke you. Dad is definitely the top and I’m the bottom but he’s loosened up a whole lot. I don’t try to do anything new unless he already revved up and is really hot and about to pop or unless he’s slightly drunk. Alcohol really lowers his inhibitions; a single glass of wine makes a huge difference.

In the throes of passion he loves to French kiss and he has been known to let me rim him but his lips have never touched my cock and I’ve never fucked him. He has come to realize, through my coaxing, that there are parts of his body besides his dick that are sexual. He loves to receive a tongue bath, he was shocked to discover that his nipples are sensitive, and he gets incredibly turned when I stroke or lick that area between his balls and asshole. I can turn him into a crazed fool by doing that. After a few minutes of that he kisses like there is no tomorrow and explores my tonsils with his tongue. Once while sucking him I had been tickling his asshole which he seemed to enjoy but then just as he shot his load I slipped a finger past his tightly clenched butthole. I thought he was going to go through the roof. It was the biggest climax he had ever had. He was breathless and panicked and excited and shocked and confused. He had no idea what had happened but he wanted it again. So I gave it to him again and again.

The spring after all this started I talked about getting my own apartment. Dad didn’t say anything but a couple of days later he came home with a large screen TV and DVD player for my room and all (ALL) the cable I wanted. He said it was a gift. I didn’t mention an apartment again. The next fall I was offered a job out of town. It wasn’t that great a job but Dad bought me a brand new car to make sure I stayed at home. I did. For Christmas that year he started giving me an allowance of $50 per week, later raised to $100. I never asked for it and he never asked what I did with it. He just wanted me to stay. Here I was 21 years old, living at home with a brand new car, not paying a cent in room or board, and receiving a $100/week allowance. I had it made. All I had to do was put out as often as needed – as if that was a problem. I was my Dad’s kept son.

Dad now pays no attention to what I do in my bedroom when he’s not with me. I know they hear the basement door open and close and they must wonder who I’ve brought home but they never say a word. Mom no longer comes near the basement except to do the laundry and then she only comes down when she knows for certain that all is clear. She has never said a word to me, nor I to her, about any of this so I don’t know what she knows or suspects. We act as though nothing has changed but we all know it has. I have no idea what Dad has told her. She probably would just as soon not know. I don’t have a steady boyfriend but I do have several fuck buddies plus the occasional trick I bring home. I don’t hustle full-time but if the opportunity arises, who am I to turn down money for what I do best. As a consequence, my bedroom is a pretty busy place with lots of different men cumming and going. But Dad is always first in line and the one who holds my heart. Orangebinder@yahoo.com

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