Smashwords

“Parker's cool,” he explained, still giving me an annoyed look. “As a friend. As somebody to mess around with. He and his dad both.”

I swallowed, trying to hold my feelings in check.

“But not…” Nicky hesitated, then slowly reached up with one trembling hand. “Not like… not the way I wish…”

His hand came down tenderly on my chest. I felt the warmth between us. It tingled like static. I felt my heart skip a beat.

“...the way I want you,” Little Nicky finished hoarsely.

The inside of my shorts felt cramped. I was harder than I had ever been in my life. Each pounding beat of my heart felt like thunder in my ears. Worse, it made my cock jump.

For a moment, I was scared I’d pissed myself. The front of my shorts felt soaked. With a jolt, I realized that I was leaking precum. Hearing my son confess to being in lust with me had turned my cock into a faucet.

What the fuck was wrong with me?

“Son,” I croaked out.

My voice sounded thick and heavy. The inside of my mouth felt like I had swallowed cotton. Everything around my son's face was hazy.

“Daddy,” my son whispered.

Nicky brought his face closer to mine. “We can't,” I said weakly, not moving away.

“Please, Daddy?”

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“Oh! Oh! Oh, fuck.”

The headboard of the bed slammed into the wall over and over, parroting the hammering of my beating heart. I could feel the mattress underneath me, soaked with sweat and threatening to give way. If the bed broke, somebody was sure to know something was up.

“Yeah, Daddy!” Parker shouted.

And yet, none of that mattered. I felt like a fucking king on his throne—a God deserving of worship. It was like winning the lottery. No fuck had ever felt as amazing as this. My vision blurred as my eyes rolled up into my skull from the intense pleasure. I could feel my toes curl, grasping feebly at the bedsheets.

“Hell yeah, boy,” I said breathlessly, keeping my sweat-soaked face locked on Parker's. “Is your Daddy fucking you good?”

“Fuck yeah!” Parker shouted in answer, driving himself down hard onto my cock, which he straddled.

I reached up with one hand and swatted Parker's left ass cheek, leaving a red handprint on his tender flesh. Several others had already been put there. Parker proved to be a stubborn young man who was slow to learn in certain areas.

He needed me to discipline him, a fact I had been warming up to these past few days.

“Ow!” Parker cried, wincing but never slowing down.

“Language,” I reminded him sternly.

Parker's eyes lost focus momentarily as the pain and pleasure mingled inside of him. “Sorry, Sir!” he gasped.

To emphasize my point, I seized hold of his hips. Parker hissed as my fingers dug into his flesh. I pulled Parker all the way down, forcing him to impale his cunt on my thick cock.

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I wanted to experience being young and carefree with my son. I needed to show him how important that was. Most of all, I wanted to bond with him before he left home.

This place was giving us that. Nicky was happier than I had seen him in years. He felt safe enough to come out to me here. We had been having so much fun together. I never wanted it to end.

And yet, I was uneasy.

I couldn’t quite put my finger down on why exactly. It wasn’t something I had brought up with Dr. Kenneth—a list that was growing the more I thought about it. I wasn’t sure when it had started either.

It was like an itch begging to be scratched, or a drawing in my gut. I almost felt like I had forgotten something. The longer I dwelled on it, the more I became convinced that something was wrong.

That was absurd, of course.

At least, that was what I kept telling myself. I had read somewhere that feelings of anxiety and paranoia can develop whether or not there is a cause for them. Chances were that I was feeling anxious because everything was going so well. My mind was convinced things would eventually go south, so it was gearing up to handle the incoming pressure. But because there wasn’t any, I was jumping at things that weren’t there.

To prove the point to myself, I slowed my pace and looked around. There were quite a few dads and sons out today. I noticed that most of them were wearing camp T-shirts signifying which area they were from.

One pair made me smile. There was nothing extraordinary happening. The dad was simply walking along with one arm around his son’s shoulders.

The son wasn’t trying to get away. In fact, he was leaning into his dad’s side as they walked. The son looked up at his father and I could see that the young man was positively beaming.

If anything, it looked like the son was head over heels in love.

My stomach fluttered. Hastily, I turned away as though I had just witnessed something I shouldn’t have. My eyes caught sight of another dad and son.

They were fishing together. Each had their legs hanging over the edge of the docks, dangling them so that their feet brushed the surface of the water. Dad had one hand resting on his son’s knee.

Slowly, the son leaned into his dad. It was a maneuver similar to the one I had just witnessed. The dad was moving his hand as well. Their backs were to me and the two were so close together that I couldn’t tell where the dad was touching his son.

I could see a portion of the dad’s upper arm, however. He was moving it back and forth. The son had moved his own arm as well. He was stroking up and down along his dad’s back.

I stood there for a moment and watched the two set their fishing poles aside. It looked like they were done for the day. I didn’t see any fresh catches or full buckets near them.

And yet, the two didn’t stand up and leave. They remained where they were, watching the lake while sitting so close to one another. If I didn’t know they were father and son, I’d have said they were cuddling.

And their hands kept moving. The son rubbed his father’s back slowly, caressing it. The dad’s arm continued to stroke a part of his son that I couldn’t see.

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“Looks like we’ll be split up again,” I told Nicky.

My son actually looked disappointed. “Sorry, Dad,” he said in a remorseful tone.

“Hey, it’s okay!” Smiling, I patted Little Nicky on the back. “It’s only a game. Let’s just have fun, okay?”

“That’s the spirit!” Beau chimed in helpfully. “The important thing is that we all have a great time, right?”

Beau gave Nicky an intense look. Nicky, in turn, blushed again and looked away. Something about that felt strange.

I was distracted, however, when several staff members began clearing space over by the bonfire. The men laid out a set of sleeping bags in a row. All of the bags were a bright red and sported a familiar bull insignia on the front.

“Only a handful of competitors from each team will be selected for this event,” the announcer explained, sending a hush through the crowd. “This event will be Sleeping Bag Push-ups!”

Whispers spread through the crowd. It sounded like some of the members of both teams were familiar with this one. Being the new guy, I was in the dark.

“Perfect,” I overheard Parker say softly.

“Couldn’t have planned it better ourselves,” Beau agreed.

There wasn’t time to ask them what they meant by that. The announcer was speaking again. A hush once more spilled over those gathered.

“Sons,” the announcer called out with sufficient gravitas. “When your name is called, please come forward and select a sleeping bag.”

Several of the younger men looked excited. Not all of them were from Hawk’s Nest either. One father from Bunny Burrow was giving his excited son a rather dark scowl. His expression reminded me of the four from Bunny Burrow who had kidnapped Parker. I made a note to keep an eye on him.

“Andrew Jones,” the announcer called out. “Chris Ingram. Kelly Shoemaker.”

The three young men whose names were called stepped forward. Their strides ranged from confident to nervous to thrilled. Each one picked one of the ten sleeping bags laid out in front of the campfire.

Two more names were called before Parker was chosen. Beau gave his son a nod of approval which Parker returned with a nod and a smile. Parker did give me a strange look before scampering off.

“I hope I get you,” he said to me as he rushed down to the front.

I turned to Beau, but all he did was shrug. “Guess I’ll find out,” I said, watching closely.

The announcer was still calling names. Two more sons went down to the campfire. I noticed that they all shimmied their hips once they were bundled up inside their sleeping bags.

It must have been uncomfortable lying flat on the ground, face down. Even with the sleeping bag, there wasn’t much protection between them and the hard earth.

“And finally,” said the announcer, pausing before giving the last name. “Nick Smith!”

I blinked in surprise. “Congratulations, son!” I said to my stunned son. “Well, don’t just stand here. Go!”

Little Nicky didn’t move right away. “You heard your Daddy,” Beau told my son with mock seriousness. “Your adoring public awaits.”

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