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Subject: Growing Up Paul 01-The Beginning This story, however many chapters it turns out to be, is based upon real life. Though I am a 60-year old man now, the things I will write about are as much a part of my memories today as they were when I was much younger. My parents were young when I was born — Dad was 19 and Mom was 17. So, when the events recounted in the first few chapters occurred, Dad was still not even 30. After the story told in this chapter, Dad and I continued our relationship until he passed away untimely when I was 40. I was an only child. While Dad and Mom stayed together until his death, I was his lover and best friend. I hope to portray our relationship in a respectful and appropriate way. It wasn’t just sex, as you will come to understand pretty quickly, though sex was certainly a huge part of it. I hope you enjoy. ———- I was nearly 9 when I realized that the feelings I had for my dad weren’t the same as my friends’ feelings for their dads. I’m not sure why I knew this, but I knew that this was not something I could talk about to anyone. So I just did my best to indulge my curiosity. Dad slept naked, for example, and Mom left for work before I went to school. Since he drank a few beers every night, Dad would sleep in. Most mornings, I could sneak quietly into their room and he would either only be partially covered or completely uncovered. I’d sit quietly on the floor under the window and just look at him. There was not one inch of his body that did not intrigue me and I could look at it all day. Once he started stirring, I’d know that my secret time was up, and I’d quietly go back to my room and crawl into my bed. Before long, I’d hear him call me from the kitchen. “Time to wake up, Paul. Time for breakfast!” I’d get up and head to the kitchen. He never disappointed me. As long as Mom wasn’t around, Dad would wear one of two things — just his boxers, or his bath robe. Either was fine with me. Even the bath robe was usually only barely covering him, and gave me plenty of chances to sneak peaks when he wasn’t looking. Or, at least, when I THOUGHT he didn’t notice. One more thing. For as long as I could remember, night time at my house included Dad sitting in his easy chair, clad only in his boxers, drinking beer and watching TV. Mom hated it, but Dad always reminded her that he was the man of the house and he could wear whatever he wanted. In addition to that, it was rare that at some point in the evening Dad didn’t invite me to sit on his lap while we watched TV together. Sometimes he’d sneak me a sip of beer, and even occasionally his whisky sours. şişli travesti It was our secret, because he said Mom wouldn’t understand. But Dad told me that part of his job was to teach me to be a man like him one day. That was fine with me, because sitting in his lap felt right, felt perfect, and gave some other strange but wonderful feelings I couldn’t identify at that point. Whenever I was sitting in his lap, Dad would do other things secretly. He’d kiss my neck and ears, or the back of my head, which would make me feel like my body was on fire! Usually, after he sent me to get him another beer, when I got back in his lap I’d feel something hard under my butt. When I sat down in his lap, he’d move me around until I heard him sign and shudder a little. That always happened when the hard thing in his lap was cradled perfectly between my butt cheeks. It was never long before Mom excused herself, kissing us both, and turned in for the night. I didn’t know until a few years later that Dad put something in Mom’s drinks that caused her to get very sleep and to sleep all night long. From then until my bedtime, Dad and I watched TV, drinking beer, and he would get very hands on with me. Looking back, I realize that other boys might have been uncomfortable with that. But I only wanted more, and wished it would never stop! Dad obviously knew that. This could have gone on forever, just like it always had, and I wouldn’t have known there could be more. Of course, Dad had no intentions of leaving our routine where it was. He told me later that once he realized that I not only didn’t mind, but that I actually craved, our alone time he knew that he was going to be the luckiest dad in the world. A few weeks before my ninth birthday, he decided to expand our nightly routine. The day before my birthday, Dad was pushing all of my buttons. When I walked into the kitchen for breakfast, he was wearing his bath robe. But, for some reason, he had not bothered to close it around him. When he turned from the counter to put my breakfast on the table, I was immediately greeted with his heavy cock and balls only inches from my face. “Eat up,” he said as he leaned down to kiss the top of my head. I couldn’t stop looking at his cock. I thought I imagined it, but it seemed to me it was getting bigger as Dad lingered with his kiss on my head. It was at that moment that I realized this was probably the hard thing I felt in his lap every night. That thought gave me a very weird, but pleasant, feeling in the pit of my stomach. Dad sat down in the chair next to mine to eat his breakfast. I was trying not to beylikdüzü travesti stare at his body, which was on full display. He smiled a lot that morning, but didn’t say anything out of the ordinary. Still, all day at school I was distracted. I couldn’t stop thinking about what I had seen, and especially what I felt when I pictured it in my head. That night before my birthday started out as it always did. I brought Dad his first beer while he warmed up the TV. Then he patted his lap and invited me up. Instantly I felt that hard thing cradled in my butt cheeks. But this time I was picturing it as the thing I had seen in my fact that morning at breakfast. Damn, if that did not give me the weirdest feeling ever. Mom went to be much earlier that night, claiming she was more tired than ever. Again, it would be years later when Dad would tell me he had increased her dose that night. When Dad thought Mom would be asleep, he kicked into high gear. He always kissed my neck and ears, like I said earlier. Tonight he was licking all over my head, and neck. Then, he reached up and touched my face, pulling it to his. Before I could say or do anything, Dad’s mouth was all over mine, and his tongue was darting around in my mouth. Instinctively, my tongue started moving into his mouth. I didn’t know what we were doing, or why, but I knew to follow his lead, if for not other reason than it felt incredible! After a few minutes of that, Dad pulled back and looked deep into my eyes. “I think my son liked kissing his Dad like that, didn’t he?” I wasn’t sure what to say, or that I could even talk. I also couldn’t break his gaze. It was like his eyes were forcing me to keep looking at him. All I could do was to smile and nod my head. Vigorously. Dad laughed and smiled at me in a way I had never seen him smile before. He took a drink of his whisky sour that Mom had made him before turning in. “Want to join me?” I reached over and took the glass and sipped on it. For some reason, that made him laugh harder. “Take a bigger drink, son. I think you’ll like how it makes you feel.” I think I surprised him when I drank nearly half of it. But, he didn’t stop me. For the next little while, we sat there watching TV. Dad pulled me tightly to him, my back to his smooth, chisled chest. His hands were all over me while he kissed my head and neck and ears. After 1- or 15 minutes, I was feeling fuzzy and told Dad that. He chuckled and told me that’s what whisky sours do to people. “Do you like it?” “Yes, I do.” In a few minutes, Dad started unbuttoning my pajama shirt. Watching him do that gave istanbul travesti me goose bumps. But those were tiny goose bumps compared to the ones I felt when his hand landed on my chest. Slowly, he moved his hand around while continuing to kiss my neck. I didn’t know if there was a heaven, but if there was I knew this must be what it was like. Dad’s roaming hand kept getting lower and lower — down my abdomen, fingers tickling my belly button. Then, he slid it inside the waist band of my pajama pants and touched me. I knew that I was hard and that he could feel it. But he never said a word and he never stopped kissing my neck and ears while he rubbed me, and squeezed me. Finally he broke the silence. “How do you feel, Paul? Do you like what is happening?” I don’t know why I couldn’t talk, but I couldn’t. I started to nod, but I realized that a different kind of answer was needed in that moment. So, I turned my face up to look at him, and opened my mouth. Obviously it was the perfect answer, because I was rewarded by Dad turning me around to straddle his stomach so he could give me the hardest, greatest, wettest kiss I have ever experienced ever in my life. We did that for what seemed like forever, before he broke the kiss. “I knew you would, Paul. Your my son. Remember how I told you that there are things that a good Dad should teach his son about being a man?” I nodded, and snuggled my head onto his chest in the crook of his neck. “Well, this is the most important lesson that we are starting now. It will take a lot of time, and practice, for you to learn it all. But you’re young enough, and it seems willing enough. We have all the time we need. Are you ready to learn?” I didn’t move from his bear hug, except to nod. He chuckled again, and it sounded so warm and intimate in my ears. “You have school tomorrow. And after school is your birthday party. I need to be a responsible dad and show you how to balance pleasure with your duties. Your mom is going to go on a business trip tomorrow after your party is over, and she will be gone for a week. Do you think you’ll mind spending a whole week alone with your old man?” As far as I was concerned that question deserved only one answer. We kissed again — deeply, passionately, hungrily. At that moment, I knew that I would be happy if Dad would kiss me like that whenever we had the chance. He had one more surprise, though. While we were kissing, he took my hand and moved it down between his legs. I knew, then, that I was right. That hard thing I felt when I was sitting on his lap was the same thing that was in my face at breakfast this morning. Continuing to kiss me, Dad stood up and carried me to bed. The last thing I saw as he turned to leave my bedroom was that hard thing between his legs. I’ll never be able to describe the feelings that sight gave me. I slept like a baby that night.