In Love with Daddy Ch. 02

This is real, I told myself. No vision, wispy day dream or night's fantasy, but real, solid . . . here. I reached out and touched my son's naked stomach—soft, hairless, smooth, warm. He was laying next to me on the bed with his lower half beneath the covers. One of his arms was beneath his pillow and the other lay limp on his chest, his fingers just above his nipple. In the pale morning light coming in through the shades of the window next to the bed, I lay there with my head propped up with my elbow, gazing at my sleeping lover.

Mine, I said to myself silently.

A stir. He was wakening. Caressing his stomach with my fingers, I watched as he made a real grouchy morning face, yawned and then opened both of his big pretty eyes to stare at me. He smiled.

"Hey early –bird," he said. I loved the cute little dimples which appeared at the sides of his mouth each time he smiled like that.

"Sleepy-head," I joked. He turned onto his stomach and so I slid my hand up onto his waist just above his butt. "Don't you have work this morning?" I asked.

He took my hand and led it over onto his butt which I rubbed very lightly with the tips of my fingers—so smooth, silky even. "Maybe I'll just call in sick," he said, giggling softly. "Don't you think that's a good idea . . . Daddy bear?"

I felt myself stiffen at hearing that—Daddy bear—so cute! I leaned over to kiss him on the lips—such soft lips—and so kind too. Such a good son. "Well," I said, parting from him. "You have already missed a lot of work already, Sweetheart . . ."

"Daddy, I'd quit my job for you," he replied, persistent as always, just like his mother. "I just want to be with you." At this he put his hand down beneath the covers and touched my already hardening penis. He played with its tip as he continued to speak, "All it takes it just one little bitty phone call . . . and then we can have more time alone . . ."

"Oh that feels so good," I said loving his gentle touch. "But Taylor, seriously though, you can't miss any more work . . . you have your family to think of."

He let go of my penis and, frustrated, slapped lightly onto my hand at his waist. "Daddy . . . I want to leave her . . . I want to get a divorce. I've told you about this before. I've—"

"Yes I remember," I said. "It will come through, I know. The divorce, I mean. But like we've said, we first have to wait for Becca to be able to move out and find a job so that your son will be well taken care of, as we agreed. I know you care for him . . . and you care for her also . . ." It hurt me to say that, but I knew it was true. Although he loved me, and I know it, he also retained some feelings for his soon-to-be ex-wife. We had spoken of this issue many times since we started having sex three weeks ago.

"Hmm . . . Daddy, you're right," Taylor said, a sad tired look on his face. "You're always right . . . so smart." He smiled at me and bent over to kiss me. "Now, Daddy . . . I gotta get ready . . . Do you want to . . . get ready with me, Daddy bear?" He giggled, a coy smile on that face of his that I admired so.

"Baby boy," I said, wrapping my arms around him. "You always know just what I am thinking don't you?" We kissed and I slid my hand down from his butt and towards his crotch where I felt his penis—it was getting hard every second.

With that we threw the covers aside, off of the bed, revealing into the cool open room air the bottom halves of our two naked bodies, two penises sticking straight up into the air now craving to be caressed. Holding hands, we crawled off of the bed and went into the bathroom. I stood behind my son as he bent slightly over to be able to turn the shower facet. His bending exposed to me his little pussy—red and raw—the hole into which I came every night since we first declared our love for one another. It was getting bigger though of course as his body was adapting to mine. We were becoming one flesh.

The water began falling from the showerhead, steam arose from it as it splashed to the bottom of the tub. Taylor turned around to face me, a smile on his lips, a twinkle in those soft pretty eyes. Together we stepped into the tub and stood under the shower. I took him into my arms in a slow intimate embrace, our hands at each others' waists gently fondling, searching. I felt my penis push into his as I held him. We rocked a little at our hips so that our penises rubbed together.

"Daddy," Taylor said now. "Remember that day—a long time ago—in the shower when you held onto my stomach . . .?"

I pulled my head away from over his shoulder and looked into his eyes. I kissed him. "Yes," I said. "I remember." We kissed again, my tongue sliding into his mouth and meeting his. Below, I began pressing my penis against his lower stomach and I felt his hard head pressing against my thigh.

"Remember how I wanted you to . . . make me pregnant?" he asked between a kiss. My hand slid down his side and onto his butt, which I squeezed now.

"Yes," I said.

Taylor looked directly into my face again. He was serious. "Daddy, I wish that I were . . . a woman." He swallowed and looked away from me towards the tile along the wall of the shower.

"Taylor," I said. "I love you . . . just the way you are."

"I know," he said. I began kissing his neck as he continued to speak. "I just wish that things could have been different . . . that I had been your little girl instead of your son. That way, we could run away to some exotic country somewhere and get married, and I could . . . have your baby."

I stopped licking his neck and looked at him again. "Taylor, you are . . . the love of my life . . . like I said, I love you just the way you are." I felt sad just then. Did he not realize how much I loved him? How I thought of him every moment that he was away? I wept over him. "Taylor, I don't care about any of that. I want to—"

"But Daddy bear," he said. "Will this always have to . . . remain hidden?"

I held onto both of his butt cheeks now and pressed my penis hard against him. We rocked back and forth between thrust after thrust after thrust. "Oh god, baby . . ." I said. We kissed, our lips wrapping around each other, sucking and slurping saliva. "Taylor, I love you . . . and I don't care . . . we will make this work . . . trust me . . . now turn around!" I smiled at him and he giggled. As he turned around I slid my hands around his body, and towards his stomach. Caressing his neck with kisses I positioned my hard cock between his butt cheeks. With one trust upwards my dick passed between the lips of his anus and up far into his ass. Taylor whelped.

"Oh Daddy!" he yelled as I thrust into him. "Daddy Daddy Sugar Daddy!"

I came, and shortly after he came too, his cum spraying away from us onto the wall of the shower in front of him. We took the rest of the shower in a kind of delightful and simple happiness which we had only ever known between each other. I washed his body and he washed mine. After soaping our bodies up we rinsed off and turned the facet to stop the water. Taylor went into the room to get dressed into his nurses uniform and he kissed me goodbye. I went downstairs to prepare some breakfast. I loved him so much!

After breakfast and reading the newspaper a bit, I went back upstairs to my room. It was a mess—sheets and blankets all over the place, semen stains all over the bed, even some on the wall directly behind the head of the bed. But I loved it. The strong salty smell in the air, a testament to the dozens of sessions of intense love making which had passed between my lover and I over the last few weeks since we found each other, truly found each other.

I smiled as I thought of his slick young body before me while I slide my wet throbbing penis in and out of his rectum. I closed my eyes and my hand fell to my penis which had begun to chubby. I took a deep breath, opened my eyes again, and abruptly turned around. I went down the hall and found the closed pull down door in the ceiling which led to the house's attic. I stood on my tiptoes and reached for the dangling cord and with one smooth motion pulled down the cord causing the door to open and stairs to appear. I unfolded these and climbed them up to the attic above.

It was dusty in there—hadn't been there for a long time. Various old pieces of furniture were piled up in one corner and grimy boxes were in another. I looked around for a moment before finding the box that I was looking for. I took it into my arms, blew dust off the top of it, and carefully brought it down the stairs with me and into the hall. I hefted it to my bedroom and, sitting among the spots of my son's cum, I opened the lid. To my view came what I had known I would find in the box: family pictures. There were five or six photo albums which my wife had prepared for the family. I took the first one and opened the cover.

"Not too long ago," I said aloud as I looked at the first picture, a family portrait from over a decade ago. We were all there; me, my wife, my daughters Lauren and Christine, and the then 12 year old boy Taylor. He stood next to me in the picture, a smile on his cute young face. "My baby boy," I whispered. Suddenly an image floated into my head: a family portrait much like the one in front of me except instead of me in the center with my arm around my wife, it was me in the center with my arm around Taylor, both of us in tuxedos. In the image/photo we were surrounded by children, our children—some of them with Taylor's lighter hair and some with mine. All smiling.

I flipped through the pages finding first photos of me and my daughters—pictures taken at the hospital at their births, and then their early childhoods and infancies. I found Taylor's section just beyond theirs. There we were—I and his mother—she in a wheelchair and I next to her, Taylor in her arms. Again an imaginary image—a photograph—popped into my head: Taylor in a wheelchair, our baby in his arms, me at his side. Another image: Taylor with breasts, a babe sucking greedily at his nipples receiving milk.

I took a breath and returned to looking at the photographs—pictures depicting my son's early childhood and his subsequent development into a young man. Had I ever noticed how cute he was, I thought to myself now as I looked at a photo of him posing in a basketball jersey. That youthful slim body of his! My penis started to harden beneath the photo album. "Oh Taylor," I moaned aloud as I pressed the head of my cock upwards towards the bottom of the album. "Oh my baby, baby boy."

"Daddy?"

I turned away from the photo album and found my daughter Lauren standing there in the doorframe watching me—a look of disgust on her face. "Um, yes?" I croaked.

"Daddy, it stinks in here," she said, bringing her hand up to her nose. "And what are you doing with those photos . . .?"

My heart thundered. "Nothing, just, um, having a look."

"No Daddy, you weren't," Lauren said. "You were . . . are you masturbating? . . . To that book?" She ran off down the hall.

"Honey," I yelled, throwing the book to the side. Getting up from the bed I noticed that my penis was still stiff beneath my robe so I adjusted it in my boxers waist band in order to hide it. "Lauren, wait, honey!" I ran down the hall behind her and took her by the shoulder. "Lauren!"

"Daddy, you were masturbating to Taylor!" she cried. "What is happening to you? I came over to have a nice little visit with you and I find you in a disgusting smelly sex chamber jacking off to your own son's photo?" She tried to move away, heading towards the stairs.

"Lauren, honey," I kept saying, trying to stop her. "Lauren!"

"I am getting out of here," she said. "Let me go!" She eyed me cooly.

"Okay!" I yelled to her face. "Okay! I WAS jerking off to a picture of Taylor! I was! I admit it freely. But it's okay because I . . . because I love him! Okay?" I was breathing hard now, my eyes boring into hers.

"Love him?" Lauren asked, her eyes darting from the wall to my face. "Love? As in . . .?"

"YES! As in I am IN LOVE with him! We are lovers! That is his cum on my bed." It was all out. I had panicked, hadn't been able to come up with an excuse in time so I had—without thinking—spilled the terrifying truth about my relationship with my son.

"Wow, Daddy," Lauren said. "You guys have . . . sex?"

I nodded. "Yes, we do. Since about 3 weeks ago. We love each other."

"Oh my god," she said silently, thinking it over. "This is so . . . I'm so, well, shocked. I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything yet," I told her. "Go downstairs and have a seat on the couch. I will get dressed and come down. We'll talk. I'll explain everything."

Lauren made a grimace, looked me straight in the face, and then nodded slowly. She said, "Okay Daddy, I'll be down there." With that she walked away from me and went downstairs.

While changing I kept thinking about what I was going to say—what I should say, how I could break it to her, what I should and should not tell about us. It could all be gone, I thought. A black cloud could be hanging over the best love I've ever known in my life. It could all be ruined if I am not careful—or if Lauren can't deal with it. This must be such a surprise—I have to be careful.

I went downstairs and found Lauren on the couch, her hands at her face, crying softly. I sat down next to her and put my arm around her side, whispering, "There there sweetheart . . . I'm sorry that you . . . have to know this but it's the truth. I can't lie about how I feel about him, about Tay--"

"What would Mom think of this?" Lauren asked. Her words bit into me like razor teeth. Her hands remained over her wet eyes. "Do you think that she would approve of her husband fucking her son?"

I breathed deeply. Gotta be careful, but honest. "Honey," I began. "Your mother would . . . I loved your mother, you know that. Her death really hit me hard. It was shortly after her--"

"That you starting fucking Taylor?"

"Yes," I said. "It was shortly after her death that me and Taylor first . . . well first discovered each other. We didn't do anything for a long time. It all just kind of . . . happened one day."

Lauren looked at me, her eyes red. "He came out of you, you know," she said. "That penis that he's been sucking is the same damn penis that he came out of when he was conceived. Don't you find that strange? He's . . . drinking his brothers and sisters for God's sake!"

"Yes, he is," I admitted. "And it was strange, at first. But we don't care. We love each other. I love him. He is--"

"You love him as much as you loved Mom?" Lauren asked. "Do you?"

I pursed my lips, looked away. "Yes," I said. "Your mother will always have a place in my heart . . . but I have a very special place for Taylor too. I am starting to think that I . . . have felt this way about him for many years now--even when he was younger. It's just that--"

"It's wrong?" Lauren interrupted. "It's wrong Daddy, it's unnatural. I can't believe that this is--"

"You can have an opinion," I said. "And I respect that . . . You don't have to accept this now . . . You can do whatever you like. But I will continue to be with Taylor. I love him. I'm madly, deeply in love with him. He is my . . . soulmate."

"Soulmate? God! That is so strange!" Lauren exclaimed, her hands up in the air. "Does . . . does Becca know about this? About you?"

"No," I said. I patted her on the side gently. "And she won't know. No one will know . . . yet at least. We're not ready. You guys aren't ready. Lots of things will have to happen before we . . . take the next step . . . whatever that is. Please Lauren, honey, try to understand. Haven't you ever felt so much love for someone that you just couldn't help it but to . . . well do all in your power to be with them? That's how we are, me and Taylor. I feel like our love is boundless, eternal. An ocean of affection. His skin makes me well up with emotion. I can't contain myself." I meant it. Oh how I hope she understood me then, at that single sincere moment of pure expression. She looked into my eyes, and slowly nodded.

"Yes," she said. "I . . . I understand you--or I'm trying at least." She bent her head so that it rested against my chest. "I love you Daddy."

"I love you too, Lauren," I replied. I kissed her on the top of the head. "Go home now . . . and try to clear your mind of all of this. It's okay to take time before you come see me again about this. I understand. I do, believe me."

So that was that. A few minutes later she hugged me goodbye and I was left sitting on the couch looking around the room wondering what was going to happen next. Would she be silent, keep her cool? I didn't know. But it did feel good to get this off my chest. A relief.

A few hours later as I was spending some time on the internet, my phone vibrated and the text message light lit up. I opened the flip phone and saw that it was a text from Taylor. "deary daddy bear," it read. "i am almost on my break. wanna join me at the caf?" I replied, "ya sure. when?" to which I received the answer, "20 mins." I got up from the computer and put on some shoes before heading out to meet my son during his break.

The cafeteria didn't have too many people in it. The afternoon crowd, usuals, mostly employees all in blue and brown scrubs. When I walked in I saw Taylor sitting at a table with his cell phone out and his wallet next to where he rested his arm on the top of the table. He came up to me and gave me a hug, his arm sliding down to the bottom of my back just above my butt. "Hey Daddy," he whispered, smiling eagerly. He looked so cute in his blue scrubs with his little stethoscope. My little nurse.

We held each other, and, to my surprise, he leaned forward and planted a kiss right to the side of my mouth. It was slow and wet. He just smiled on and, taking my hand, lead me to into the cafeteria line where we would stand in the hot lunch line. I looked around to see if anyone had seen us. I couldn't tell. Everyone seemed pretty much into their food. We got our lunches and went back to our table.

"Taylor," I said softly, while he munched on a piece of cornbread. "I have to tell you something."

"That you love me?" he asked, his eyes giddy. "I already knew that." He chuckled.

"Yes, I do, of course, but no, I need to tell you that . . . well Lauren . . . knows about us." I took a glance around us to see if anyone could have possibly heard what I had just said. "She caught me . . . looking at some old photos of you and . . ."

Taylor put his hand on top of mine. "And she found out . . ." He put his fork down and looked deep into my eyes, a hint of worry there. "What did she say . . . is she going to tell anyone?" A hint of fear . . . and something else: excitement.

"No," I said. "I don't think so. I told her everything though . . . and she saw our room."

"I see," he said. "I think that--"

"Hey Taylor, mind if I sit with you guys?"

We both looked up to see who was talking--a young man about two years younger than Taylor. Good looking, wearing blue scrubs. His name card read "Jason." He eyed Taylor, eyes glued to his.

"Oh, hey Jason," Taylor said. "Jason, go ahead, and I'd like you to meet my father, Will."

"Hi Will," he said, taking my hand. "Pleased to meet you. Your son and I work together."

"Oh, that's nice," I said as he sat down next to Taylor, across from me. "He doesn't tell me about his friends at work much."

Jason smiled at me and then turned to Taylor to talk about something he had just done for a patient at the E.R. I wasn't paying attention to what he was saying. Only his eyes interested me. He seemed to have a glint of . . . well a spark there whenever he looked at Taylor. It confused me, and I felt suddenly uneasy. Meanwhile Taylor smiled at some of the things this boy said, and would avert his eyes over to mine every once in a while.