CHAPTER SEVEN—Dreams of Bases, Thoughts of Balls
It took me a little while to adjust to being a guy again, but just a little bit. Dad and I were simply tossing the ball back and forth like we'd done far too few times before, but I was getting into it. I started to build up a nice sweat too, and pretty soon all thoughts of Courtney and Meg and all the other things that had happened began to fade in favor of the focus on catching and throwing the ball. It was really quite remarkably transforming in a way.
Half an hour later dad was looking a bit pooped and we stopped and went in for some ice tea. We sat outside again cooling off and catching our wind, when dad asked if I wanted to toss some baskets. It sounded good to me—though it was almost too much after having nothing for all those years—and dad went to get the basketball. Then I saw Meg coming dashing down the hall to the kitchen. Though she was naked and I was looking at her through the glass doors, I knew it was her because of the cute thatch of pubic hair that still covered her crotch. She skidded to a stop in front of the fridge, got out two cold cans of soda, saw me looking, smiled sheepishly and waved, and then ran back up the hall again with both cans. Dad came wandering down the other way at the same time and turned to look, then shook his head as he came back outside.
"Girls these days, huh?" he laughed. Then he tossed me the ball and we started down the stairs to the lower fields again.
* * *
It was hotter than I realized, almost midday by that time, and since I was sweating so freely and there was a nice breeze, I stripped off my shirt before resuming dad's and my game of one-on-one. I was always so completely bad at basketball while dad was still, aside from his paunch, at his college days best. He beat me over and over again, giving me some pretty good checks too. It was all in fun though and when neither of us could go any further, we hauled out some deck chairs from the pool house (the basketball court is adjacent the pool), and sat down in the cooling breeze. I'd made the mistake of wearing my sweat pants instead of changing to shorts like dad had, and my legs were really hot and sweaty. I pulled the legs of the pants up to my knees and loved the feeling of the breeze against my bare skin, but I really wished I'd brought a pair of shorts along.
Besides, the pool looked pretty inviting right then!
"Why not just take 'em off?" dad said from where he sat.
"Huh?"
"Your sweatpants," he said. "You can just take them off if you're hot. I mean, we're both guys here, buddy, right?"
Buddy?
I got a slight shiver from hearing dad call me that. He hadn't called me that since before we'd returned for the visit. It was at once familiar and weird. And the fact that my own dad had just told me it was okay to take my pants off, sent another shiver though me—one that made me glad I had my cock somewhat controlled by the jockstrap!
But I did it. I felt a strange, powerful energy filling me as I stood and stripped down the sweatpants, and when I tossed them aside and stood before dad with just the jockstrap and my shoes and socks on, I felt different—handsome—and not
pretty.
I then sat back down and stretched out on the reclining chair, enjoying the touch of the sun against me, but also the feeling of my dad's eyes on me.
"If you're gonna go for a tan," dad whispered. "Then maybe
those
should go too, don't you think?" I lifted my head and looked at him and he was pointing at my shoes. He was right though; I personally preferred the pale look, but I didn't want to have a somewhat tanned body and white feet! I got the shoes and socks off and lay back again, and simply relished the feeling of having my sweaty feet join the rest of my still drying body as the breeze came up over me like a blanket.
My cock lifted up just a little more. My nipples hardened and I realized how different it was being sweaty and letting the air touch me when I'd had body and leg hair, compared to what it felt like now. I closed my eyes and then felt a jolt of the most incredible desire surge through my groin; pure lust! I gasped. It made me arch a little and I saw in my mind, a happy face nodding up and down; an exquisitely feminine pubic mound—completely devoid of hair!—right before that face! Meg was eating her sister out and I'd just felt Courtney's orgasm!
Dad asked me if I was okay, and I nodded, but then I realized his voice was much closer than before. It was right beside me. I opened my eyes from the luscious scene I was seeing in my mind, and found dad kneeling right there beside me. He had a towel in his hands.
"If you like, I could pat you down a little," he offered, and his voice was so tender, so soft and hopeful it made my throat tense; I couldn't speak so I just nodded.
* * *
Never in my life would I ever have thought that simply being patted down with a dry towel would be such a complete turn-on. But it surely was! Or maybe it was just the way dad was doing it. He was so gentle and caring that he made me feel like some delicate flower he was afraid to bruise. By the time he was halfway down my chest, my cock was straining to push through the jockstrap and I was glad I still had it on because I was
so
hard! I inhaled deeply, swung my arms overhead and my whole body seemed to arch and shiver all at once.
Then dad was touching the towel upward, under my arms, up my arms, and then downward again. He got to my navel and began to say something, but without thinking or really hearing what he'd said, I reached down and skinned the jockstrap off my hips and down my thighs. I lifted my legs to peel the damp thing off and then flung it aside. I lay back again completely exposed, letting my cock stand on end and not caring who saw it. I felt like
this is me!
and my cock, being a part of me, was something I wasn't willing to shove away.
My body felt solid, stiff and completely hard—not only my prick. I remember gasping at one point, enjoying it all, and then something warm and wet was gliding up my armpit.
Dad's tongue!
I started to lower my arm but dad quickly caught it and held it above my head.
"...but I'm all stinky there...." I whispered to him, and the tongue left. I looked up.
"I don't care son," he said, and then I watched him calmly and happily go back to tasting my underarm! The feeling was incredible, delightful—arousing—and I relaxed into it, just letting dad have his way, and enjoying the sensations he was giving me. Then he was kissing my nipple, kissing my ribs, and then, just like that, dad's mouth went all the way down around my prick!
I raised my head and stared. I couldn't believe it. Not after all he'd told me. I watched with a mixture of amazement and horror, and then dad lifted his mouth from me and smiled.
"What's the matter boy...never saw a man suck a cock before?" he said, and then he gently pushed my dick upward against my heaving abdomen and began to kiss—and then lick—my balls!
My body was locked. Every muscle seemed to stiffen and flex at the same moment. My leg muscles were standing out rigid and my legs were reaching straight down but dad just went on calmly licking my balls and then running his tongue up the underside of my undulating prick. I didn't know what was going on—either with him or with me—but all of it, each thing he did, felt
wonderful!
After a few moments I drifted into a semi-conscious state of total bliss. If dad and I had been laying down, I would've been inching my way toward his crotch, my mouth hungering to be filled with his thick meat, but as it was, I just lay there squirming, gasping and writhing on the deck chair. I still couldn't believe it was my own father's mouth that was touching me like this but what's more, I couldn't understand how unashamedly
male
