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Date: Sat, 20 Dec 2003 21:13:11 -0600
From: gloryhole JUNKIE <gloryhole_junkie@hotmail.com>
Subject: Whoring With Dad 8a: A Special Holiday Installment

Whoring With Dad 8a: A Special Holiday Installment
"A (Thick'n' Creamy) White Christmas at the Ho'Ho' Holiday Mall"

By: Mr. gloryholeJUNKIE
       gloryhole_junkie@hotmail.com


DISCLAIMER (bells...whistles...warning, warning, Wil Robinson)

Although its often said that "Christmas is for kids"...let's make it clear
to you big boys out there - you adult, lusty men who may be so predisposed -
that you oughtn't take that phrase literally. It's not intended to suggest
an item to be added to your "Christmas Wish List" found through the SEARS
catalog (nor in any of their department store toilets).

Try to be a good dad, uncle, grandpa, neighbor, stranger-in-the-park,
scoutmaster, soccer coach, teacher, or department store Santa this Christmas
and keep your man boner in your pants while around anyone under the legal
age in your community.

If a horny adult male (that's you if you are over eighteen years of age and
got a dick) should even approach a tyke sexually, (let alone fondle 'im),
may Santa's elves grab you by your randy scrotum, pull you down to the
sticky candycane floor and beat you with the colorful wooden mallets they
use at their Toy-Making Workshop. This is not so much intended as a
punishment for having severely naughty impulses, but rather to simply
distract you into a different sort of twisted sexual experience as to
prevent you from otherwise committing what would be a crime. After all,
elves, although certainly "wee", are indeed adults (there's no child labor
at the North Pole...well, not since the No Child Labor at the North Pole Act
of 1956). And heck, since cute lil'elves just barely reach a human man's
belt buckle, well, they really ought to satisfy the "fantasy" well enough,
doncha think?

Be of adult age and in a locale where it is legal to read such thoroughly
homosexual erotica, as does follow (sad how, as we stare at 2004, that one
must still type out such an Oscar Wilde-era sentence).

NEVER act out any of the scenes or sentences you are (willingly) about to
read. Unzip your slacks and milk yourself all you like as your peruse the
scenarios, but don't "take 'em to the street" (or into your son's bedroom
once your wife nods off ...after you've spiked her eggnog with double-doses
of the ole Jack Daniels).





PREFACE

This Special Holiday Edition of "Whoring With Dad", although based in actual
sexual events, is to be considered a certifiable flight of fancy when
compared to other chapters. It's a Christmas gift to all my faithful,
depraved and self-milking readers for it is my mission to make all men
'round the world ejaculate on Christmas Eve night!

"T'was the night before Christmas
And all through the house
Not a creature was stirring
'Cept dad's big boner -- the perverted ole souse!"

Its always wise for a fella to get into the Christmas-time mood. And as a
fellow fella, I understand that it sometimes takes more than garland (even
Judy) and tinsel to make a man perk up at the holidays.

Oh, sure, there's perking up ala caroling or window shopping...but then
there's "perking up" as only we guys understand. And heck, some wonderfully
perverted men combine the two...ever feel a stray hand grope your crotch and
unzip you as you stand among the crushing throngs of on-lookers while at the
lighting of the tree at Rockefeller Center? Don't flinch or pull away (no
one will see)! Why, its merely a strange man making merry with the crotches
of the masses!  A good Christmas-crowd pervert can easily milk dozens of
anonymous males in any jam-packed holiday mob. After all, in a crush, you're
just a handjob away from flocking any nearby tree!

And what better season to enjoy or explore your "inner homo" than that time
of year filled with sugar plum faeries (who flit around) and fruitcakes
(which men pass around endlessly) and "secret Santas" and the long-awaited
prize goose (GOTCHA!)  and beefsticks (as well as big Yule logs of all
kinds) and packages all wrapped with care? If these aren't the ingredients
for terrific homo sex, well, then I guess its just Christmastime!

So I hope the following tale stirs the Dasher or Dancer (aren't there also
Throbbin' and Blastin??) inside your trousers into having itself an
arousing...rousing...season of fun.

As an XXX-tra special treat, following are some fun holiday ideas - MAN
IDEAS -- you can share (or keep secret as the case may be) this Holiday
Season.

HOLIDAY MAN IDEAS THAT WOULD NEVER OCCUR TO MARTHA STEWART:

GETTING DAD TO BAKE (idea #361): Icing gingerbread men can be fuuuuuuuuun!
Is it powdered sugar glaze...or just daddymilk making those cookies so
delicious?

ENTERTAINING GUESTS (idea #987): Eggnog can be spiked with liquor or -- more
creatively -- with something creamier. Unzip and give that Christmas cheer
an extra blast of "protein".

GIFT-WRAPPING the daddy-way (idea #635): Think of your trousers as the
perfect "wrapping paper" (no need to take 'em off). "Sure Santa brought you
that special baseball card..." Then nod to your hefty crotch and watch his
eyes light up! And your zipper's easier to open than ScotchTape!

MEN WISHING GOOD TIDINGS: "Peace on Earth" means different things to
different people. Let's start with the concept that most men like to spell
it "p-i-e-c-e"...

Now, settle into your comfiest chair (or your leatherette, Home Depot
hydraulic masturbation station, as the case may be). Have a big, warm mug of
frothy cocoa (or is it???) by your side as you unzip your slacks. If you
want someone on your lap, this is the time to do so. Kleenex ready? Let's
begin the story...


Whoring With Dad 8a: A Special Holiday Installment
"A (Thick'n' Creamy) White Christmas at the Ho'Ho' Holiday Mall"

By: Mr. gloryholeJUNKIE
       gloryhole_junkie@hotmail.com


Maria died only two weeks after our little trip to the zoo. Unbeknownst to
my family, ever since they had moved to the U.S., Jesus had forced her into
prostitution. Even throughout her latest pregnancy, once she'd leave our
apartment after a day of housekeeping, she'd been required to turn anywhere
from ten to twenty tricks each night back at the small apartment they shared
near Lawrence Avenue.

Jesus pimped her out like a man selling Ginsu knives on television. Want one
fuck? Two? Fifty? Just lay your money on the table. While his elderly mother
and the boys would be locked for hours into a bedroom with only a small
black and white portable t.v. and a gallon of water, Jesus would sit in the
kitchen while man after man would ring the buzzer for a ten-dollar screw
with Maria. Most of the time they'd just do the deed on the ratty, heavily
soiled couch in the dark living room.

Sometimes Jesus would join in if the customer wished. Some straight married
men weren't so straight once they saw Jesus' big cock at Maria's lips while
they used her cunt. For an extra five-bucks, Jesus would screw her throat in
front of the john. Or for just another five he'd let any john orally
experiment on his uncut cock by screwing the customers throats.

"You pop in her", Jesus would explain pointing to Maria's wide-spread legs;
then pointing to the john's lips, "And I pop in you." Most men always
coughed up the extra ten spot for the extra thrill of choking down on Jesus'
horsecock.

And for an extra fifty, especially on nights when Maria might be sick, he'd
even unlock the bedroom door and call his eldest son out to "help with the
bills".

But then one night, Maria hemorrhaged badly after having satisfied just her
sixth john of the night. Jesus, in an act of self-preservation, fled the
apartment and told his mother to call for an ambulance from a payphone at
the liquor store downstairs only once he was gone for an hour. Jesus spent
that week at the small apartment of two fellow illegals who were dishwashers
at the Palmer House Hotel.

Despite the other children at home, authorities never seemed to put a
husband into the equation as they rushed the dying Maria to Cook County
hospital. In retrospect, I doubt they figured or cared if she were married,
as they never even bothered to ask. The forms were checked as "single
Mexican female, non-documented".

The hospital presumed she was just another illegal turning tricks - and that
being torn up inside after spreading her legs to countless men taking a ride
up her cunt was simply a risk any hooker takes. She was buried after an
autopsy confirmed she'd hemorrhaged as a result of "aggressive and repeated
sexual intercourse throughout pregnancy".

My parents only learned of Maria's death after she'd failed to show up for
work. Since Maria did not have a phone, my father had to go up to their
neighborhood and ring their doorbell. Jesus' mother did not speak any
English but Jesus' eldest son, only around the age of eight, was able to
tell him his mama was dead and his father was not around anymore. Actually,
Jesus was around but had instructed the boys to lie.

Distraught, my parents later called the county hospital and were told that
indeed an illegal alien had passed away that previous weekend. They found
out where she was buried, in a pauper's grave, and requested perpetual
masses to be said for her at Holy Name Cathedral.

But as is the course of Life, after a few days, my parents hired another
housekeeper from an agency. A big Polish woman with hands like baseball
mitts, hips like a wine barrel...and a Green Card.

After a couple of weeks, Jesus returned to the apartment he shared with his
mother and boys...and life there continued. Maria's soiled sofa was barely
cold before Jesus had his boys warm it each night. And the cash started
flowing in again.

Soon it was Christmastime. My favorite time of the year when I was a kid,
although that's not saying much as most children seem to respond to the
presents and candies that any big jolly man may bestow upon them. Heck, an
unmarked van with three men inside wagging Tootsie Rolls can seem like
Christmas to a na‹ve little kid!

Since my sexual awakening, I had given head (and ass) to Arlo nearly every
morning that he drove me to school in his taxi.  He'd pick me up at least a
half an hour earlier than necessary but my parents thought that was better
than my being late for school. They never understood why I was unlike so
many other kids who had to be dragged out of bed each morning. I would be
up, dressed, have my Capt'n Crunch eaten and be ready to leave without any
arguments.

Each morning he drove, Arlo would take a different detour from the school to
park somewhere. Many times it was in the alley behind the auto/body shop
where the welder would watch me suck on Arlo's penis. After simply watching
a few times, the man looked up and down the alleyway and then slid his heavy
apron to one side showing me his erect cock as he masturbated.

It wasn't until Arlo one morning, in the middle of receiving fellatio from
me, reached to the passenger side door and opened the lock when the welder
finally went around to that side and got into the front seat with us.
Immediately I felt the man's big hand wander into my uniform pants where his
thick fingers toyed with my smooth little butt and tickled my tight
seven-year-old rosebud.  Watching the other man molest me made Arlo
ejaculate quickly, his thick semen washing down my throat like the creamiest
milkshake at the Dairy Queen.

"You...you suck him now", Arlo said in a heavy, winded and excited voice. I
was small enough to just slide around on the big vinyl bench seat as to face
the big, strapping welder who smiled at me and tapped my nose slightly.

"Cute as a button, you are", the man said in a deep voice.

Arlo pulled his trousers together as he watched me wrap my little fist
around the welder's fat cock. "When he makes his manmilk, you drink it,
too," Arlo directed as he stared at my every move.

That made the welder all the hornier as he lightly gripped me by the crown
of my skull and used my oral cavity as a sex toy. "This kid takes cock...",
he huffed to Arlo. "Shit, how big a dick can this kid swallow?"

Arlo laughed nervously as he shared his attentions between watching the
welder using my mouth and looking out the windows scanning for any
interlopers who may approach.

"Damn, my wife doesn't even deepthroat like this kid...", the hung welder
said as he laughed. "You said he's seven?", he asked Arlo with some measure
of glee.

Arlo nodded and laughed some. "He's learned on someone that is for sure", he
whispered to the welder.

The welder gripped my head and pulled me off his huge erection. "You do this
a lot, baby? We're guessing, right?"

I just nodded and smiled up at the man.

"Good boy is all I can say...wish I had one at home like you.", the welder
said as he placed my head back into his spread crotch. In moments of the
man's cock being returned to my throat he began to pump out jets of warm and
salty daddymilk. He gripped me harder and harder as he orgasmed down my
throat. He grunted as the vehicle became quite still and silent otherwise.

Arlo obviously enjoyed watching his friend unload into me as he whispered
his encouragement, "Feed the bad boy more...that's it...his belly is for
sperm..."

After fully ejaculating down inside my throat, the welder pulled by head off
him again and grinned big. His teeth were perfect and white. "Drink that
stuff down, babyboy", he said as he watched me gulp down his daddymilk.

I sat upright between the two men and reached to each of their crotches and
gave them both a squeeze simultaneously. The welder laughed big as he zipped
up his work coveralls. "Can't beat this little one...would love to see where
he'll be in twenty years at this rate!"

"He's on some path already", Arlo mused as he patted the welder in the
shoulder. The welder popped open the door and said, more to Arlo than to me,
"Hope this can be a regular morning round for us..."

The big man got out and quickly walked back to his metal backdoor of the
auto/body shop through the cold morning air.

Arlo turned on the cab's engine and said, "We get you to school now...and
remember your promise before God..."

"I will always keep secret the things men have me do", I said faithfully,
believing every word to the bottom of my heart.

"Good boy", Arlo added. "And you like the things Arlo and men do to you,
no?"

"I love it", I said in a small and most sincere voice.

Arlo than carefully looked me up and down. He always did that to be sure my
uniform was done up again, my pants were up and that no semen had landed on
my clothing.

"Oh, oh, oh!", Arlo said with some fright. "You have some of that man's milk
on you!" Arlo, using his right index finger, scooped up a big thick glob of
white stuff from my jawline. He stuck his finger, coated in the welder's
semen, into my mouth. I sucked and ate it all up as Arlo watched. I looked
down and saw that his polyester slacks were all tented again. I reached to
squeeze it for him but he quickly placed his hand over mine. "No, no more
this morning for you...", he laughed. "Besides Arlo needs to save some for
his own wife! Tomorrow Arlo shoots more into you, okay Kevin?"

I nodded and pulled my small hand off the man's hard crotch as he pulled
away and back into traffic.

It was just after Thanksgiving, and fortunately two weeks before Christmas
vacation, when my mother came down with a terrible flu. We knew it just had
to run its course, which meant little more than turkey soup and plenty of
rest for her...and more holiday errands for my dad.

One of the top-priority errands - for me, that is - was to see Santa Claus.
I was as yet to have my bubble burst when it came to Old Saint Nick. I still
believed he made his way down our chimney each Christmas after
dark...entering our apartment as we all slept...hmm, odd how that never
seems to scare tykes (a big hulk of a man breaking and entering once a
year).

Every year previous we all went to Marshall Fields on State Street where
we'd eat under the enormous tree at the Walnut Room. My mother and father
always bought me a special ornament each year, a collectible, as another
tradition. Afterwards we'd then stand in the more enormous line to see Santa
Claus in his castle (golly, fortunately for we kids -- and unfortunately for
parents everywhere -- there was a sea of the myriad toys for sale
"conveniently" strewn along the lengthy "snow-covered" pathway as we
waited).

But this year was different. For the first time, my mother didn't think
she'd make it for our annual luncheon in the Walnut Room. I cried and cried
as she explained that she didn't feel well enough to contend with the
crowds, let alone, eat.

She was about to cancel our reservations when she suddenly made my father
vow to take me there and to be certain the tradition at Marshall Fields
stood despite her illness. My mother was all for tradition, after all.

It would not be the same, of course, but I love my daddy in a big way and
loved Santa perhaps even more. It was one of those moments of clarity about
one's developing values as I recall thinking, "Hope ya feel better, maw, but
this kid has a certain Kris Kringle to see!"

And that same night, I sucked my dad's boner through his underpants!

Since my mom had the flu, dad decided to sleep in the guestroom, which was
quite luxurious in its own right. Private bathroom, down comforters before
they became the norm in America, damasks, fireplace and burled wood inlay.
Quite a room.

And a room I rarely got to play in, let alone sleep in. So when I knew my
dad would be bunking in there at least a few nights, I jumped on the
opportunity to crawl in with him under the guise of watching t.v. before
bedtime (always works, fellas).

Jeanne, the Polish maid, had left as usual after serving us dinner. My mom
slept and watched television in the master bedroom while my dad and I, as I
recall, ate London Broil with mushrooms. My dad said he was feeling sort of
tired although it was only approaching seven in the evening. But it was dark
and cold and snowy outside and so his fatigue was chalked-up to being the
effects of the weather.

After dinner, my dad and I went to the main foyer and made sure the doors
were all locked. Then we went around turning off the Christmas tree and
various lamps while making our way first to say goodnight to my mother who
groaned something pleasant back to us from the dimness of her room.

My dad and I then wend our way to my bedroom where he turned on my desk lamp
and told me to get changed for bed. He then left and headed to the guestroom
near the library.

In my room, I quickly tore off all my clothes feeling oddly warm and excited
as I did so and then pulled on my flannel Batman and Robin pajamas.

I padded down the corridor, past the library and was happy to see that my
dad had left one of the guestroom's double doors open. I was afraid he might
have locked it thus crushing any hopes of watching t.v. in the special
guestroom with my dad.

I quickly dashed in and jumped into the massive bed, with its covers turned
down earlier by Jeanne. Dad had already turned on the television set where
it was on the Christmas Special, "Frosty the Snowman". Could things get any
more perfect for a first grader?

My dad was apparently in the bathroom as I could hear the shower running. I
was all nervous and excited and I didn't quite know why. I know some of it,
admittedly, was the fact I would soon be close to my handsome dad in bed. I
had come to lust for men's bodies and daddymilk and my dad was not exempt
from my precocious and developing seven-year-old's wantonness.

I was in the bed, far under the covers in an attempt to be all cozy and in
some slight fear my dad may just tell me to go to my own room if he were to
"see" me. Perhaps he wouldn't notice me in the bed as quickly if I were
scooted deeply into the bedding. I nestled in listening to the shower and to
Frosty the Snowman being sung. I think I may have even started to doze off,
it was so snuggly warm.

Just as the show returned from a commercial break, my dad emerged from the
bathroom. I don't even know if he saw me in the bed as he looked over at the
television and smiled as he saw Frosty board a freight train's icecar. He
couldn't have known I was there, could he? No, he stood there naked with
only a towel around his neck. I peeped from beneath the covers and saw his
huge penis swinging a bit as he rather hastily made his way to the bedroom
door and locked it.

Only when he turned around again, his cock and heavy scrotum proudly hanging
between his lithe thighs did he acknowledge my presence with a simple, "Oh,
you're in there!"

I was again slightly afraid he'd tell me to skedaddle but instead, he simply
slipped his towel from his neck and wrapped it around his waist as he said,
"I forgot there were specials on tonight", he said, "You can't miss Frosty
after all."

I felt very relieved as my dad was inviting me to stay and watch t.v. with
him! From beneath the covers I stared at Frosty hopping around and at my dad
who now stood along side the t.v. set. His towel showed off the bigness of
his penis as it draped along it. He flipped through the T.V.GUIDE magazine
and announced there were three Christmas specials in a row on that evening.

He then went back into the bathroom; a moment or two later emerging once
again wearing only a pair of white Jockey shorts.  Even at age seven, I had
been with enough men to know that my dad was built. I struggled with a woody
beneath the covers as my dad turned off the bathroom light and made his way
over to my side of the bed, switching off that lamp. I carefully watched him
go around the bed, seeing his massive bulge silhouetted as he passed in
front of the television screen as he went to his side to crawl in.

As he lay beside me he said something about how "cute" the show was and
whether or not I could see the set okay. I was a little sleepy and cozy and
excited all at the same time as I sniffed in the scent of the soap my dad
had used for his shower.

He left on his bedside lamp as he reached for Newsweek magazine. The covers,
although bundling me, were left down to only cover my dad up to his knees.
One thing about my parents - my mom was always cold; my dad always warm.

Fortunately that allowed me the great opportunity to ogle my dad's physique
as he laid there, reading glasses on the bridge of his nose while be perused
the news magazine. My eyes were like slits trying to mask the fact that
during commercials I was staring at my dad's hairy pecs and big bulge in his
white underpants!

I watched Frosty and then Rudolph and it was there, somewhere along the way
that I dozed off into a wintry sleep. I awoke at what could only have been
around eleven p.m. since Johnny Carson was still on. My dad's lamp was still
on, the magazine he'd been reading was draped over his chest in a slight
clutch as he lightly snored.

The best part was that the comforter was still down, exposing his body to me
as he slept. I was so excited that I didn't know what to do. But what I had
learned of men and from men let me know that any man would love a little
hand exploring in those naughty places. What men had told me to do - to
approach any and every man and feel him up between his legs -- had never
failed me yet.

So very quietly, I reached and put my small hand directly on my dad's
underwear bulge. It was meaty and warm and I could tell it was especially
thick. Slowly I ran my tiny fingers down to caress the contour his massive
scrotum made of the white cotton.

Only moments after copping a feel of my daddy, I saw his penis becoming more
and more erect within his Jockey shorts. Yet as I looked up at his face, his
eyes were still closed as he slept. I watched it grow bigger and bigger and
then it started to throb. I stared at it as I used my fingers to hold the
thick, hard shaft as it pulsated and throbbed some more. My dad's cock
tented the fabric as it struggled within the confines of the undershorts.
His erection quickly grew along his hipbone, riding it and reaching away
from me, pointing to the bedtable lamp.

Instinctively, I pulled up on the elastic of dad's undershorts and let his
penis free (and this is YEARS before "Free Willy"!). As if seizing its
opportunity, his big boner bounced upward and laid flat against his lower
abs, passing his navel. But I had to release the waistband and tried to
carefully set it back down as to not wake him up.

Now half of my dad's penis was inside his Jockeys and the other half was
stretched big and hard and reddening upward to his stomach. I was so afraid
he'd awaken and see me. I looked up again at his sleeping face...and then
again...and again before returning my hand to my father's crotch. He had to
have been soundly asleep because other than his powerful erection, he barely
budged at all. I even heard some more of his light snoring.

I held him firmly in my little grasp when I saw the head of his penis oozing
all that clear juice many men made before they shot their milk. The clear
fluid glistened in the light of the lamp and a thought came to me. I had to
taste it.

Perhaps its only something a seven-year-old would actually do - not being as
aware of the risks - and fortunately my dad was not being roused from his
sleep. Anyway, I knew most all men like it when someone laps up their penis
juices!

I leaned over as if resting my head on my dad's hip, just in case he awoke
suddenly - I could pretend to just be snuggling in my sleep (heck, two can
play that game)! It put my mouth just inches from my dad's precum oozing
penis. I leaned slightly more and licked up the sweetest stuff on the whole
planet! I opened my mouth some more and got the head and about three inches
of cock in my mouth as I nursed on it like a baby. I knew better though than
to pull down his underwear any more since I didn't want to wake him!

Only seconds later did it fire off in my mouth. Warm milky seed - being shot
out of my daddy's big cock was flushing out my small, well-used child's
mouth. I laid their trying not to move too much while I gulped and gulped
and gulped down the viscous breeder's batter, the daddymilk...right out of
my own daddy! Yet it didn't quite occur to me at that young age how potent
the experience was since I still didn't quite appreciate full DNA and the
whole reproductive thing.

After savoring my father's semen, I don't recall much. Did I slip away and
crawl to my side of the bed? Did I place my dad's penis back into his Jockey
shorts first? Did I actually nod off again that way - with my dad's penis
lodged between my first-grader's clamping lips?

To this day I have no idea what happened between gulp six and gulp seven of
my dad's scrotal fluids. All I recall is awakening to streams of sunlight
coming in from the windows where the drapes had been pulled back and to my
dad singing as he slid on his trousers while standing at the foot of the
bed.

"Wake up my lil'buckaroo! We have a date to see Santa today!", dad chirped
as he looked about for his T-shirt.

I awoke thinking he might yell at me for playing with him in such a naughty
way while he slept. After all, being just a tyke, it hadn't occur to me that
my dad couldn't quite yell at me for something done to him while he was
sound asleep, of course. How could he know anything had been done to him if
he was in REM mode, after all? Heck, even if he awoke coated in his own
semen with Jockeys pulled down, all he might suffer is guilt -- thinking he
had a depraved wet dream about his own seven-year-old son!

And, if he were feigning sleep, let's face it, a dad's got to be smart. How
could he yell at his own little kid for doing something to him "while he was
asleep" when he actually wasn't -- without admitting that he was awake
during the incestuous fiddling about of his sex organs by his own offspring
(and therefore could have stopped any such naughty antics as they
occurred...but did not) thereby relinquishing any parental rights to scold
due to his own licentious behavior in aiding and abetting in his own sexual
molestation.

HUH? In other words, a dad, well-milked in his "sleep", can't yell about it
the following morning ninety-nine percent of the time!

Instead of being mad or yelling or even acting a bit unnerved, dad grinned
as he zipped up his slacks before he tweaked my toes beckoning me to hurry
up.

"I'm going to see if your mother's up to any coffee this morning, Kevin", he
said as he unlocked the bedroom door. "Go get washed up so we can eat some
breakfast before we have to get going!"

I sat up in the bed as I watched my dad practically bounce out of the room.
He sure was in a good mood. No way could he have known I put his penis in my
mouth the night before.

I jumped out of bed, seeing it was eight a.m.! I quickly forgot about the
sexual encounter the night before as I only had one thing on my mind - SANTA
CLAUS!  I raced to the bathroom, brushed my teeth and showered, using the
same bar of soap that had lathered up my dad the night before. With the
scent, all the feelings returned and I had a boner as I stood beneath the
water. I still didn't quite masturbate although I mimicked the motions of
the men who had sex with me, or rather, those who stood and watched as I had
sex with other men. I pulled on my pee-pee and pulled, the slippery soap
feeling so good until my body convulsed in dry orgasm. I thought I'd
collapse! My little scrotum ached and ached and then just as suddenly the
sensation disappeared and I turned off the water.

As I stepped out of the tub, my dad came into the bathroom. "Have to pee",
he said as he stood there. I shivered slightly and he could see I was
looking for a towel. He stood at the toilet bowl, unzipped and hauled out
his long, fat penis. A thick stream of piss came out of him as I watched.
Then looking at me looking at him he said, "I think you need a towel" and he
tossed me a thick white towel from a rack above the toilet.
I took the huge towel and began to dry myself. Dad watched as he continued
to pee. Once done but before zipping up again, he stepped closer, his long
penis swinging slightly as it hung out of the fly of his slacks.

"Here, let me help you there", he said, as he took charge of the towel and
began to vigorously dry me off. Though the motions of the towel, I could see
my dad's cock swaying to and fro a bit as we jostled a bit.

"Get you all good and dry", he said. "Don't need you coming down with
something, too!" I stared at his penis as it moved back and forth. Dad
reached down and wiped my back with the towel. He's hands gripped the fabric
as he wiped it across my buttocks gently and slowly.

"There!", he said happily. "All dry!"

He handed hung the towel up on a hook, leaving me totally naked, although
completely dry, before him. He then stuffed his dick back into his trousers,
zipped up and handed me another dry towel. Put this on and get to your room
and get dressed. Your mother's still sleeping and we have to get to State
Street pretty soon.

Since it was a Saturday, Jeanne had arrived at just about the same time I
raced back to my own bedroom. I heard dad greet her and tell her my mom was
still sleeping and that he'd appreciate it if she'd look out for her needs
since we'd be gone the entire afternoon.

Jeanne started a pot of coffee and met me in my bedroom where I stood in my
white underpants looking at all the clothes in my closet.

"Yer mother told me what you are ta wear this morning", Jeanne said happily
yet firmly as she entered my bedroom and drew open the curtains. "Taday is
special day vit yer pappa and you dress nice like nice young boy."

She went to my closet and pulled out the clothing my mother had specified. A
pair of navy pull up pants that were like the ones I wore with my school
uniform only nicer, a crisp white shirt, a red tie and red and green plaid
velvet vest with a candycane crest embroidered onto it.

"And you wear the gud shoes", Jeanne said. "The new ones yer mamma buy you."
I reached into the closet and pulled out the box containing the new pair of
shiny oxblood dress shoes.

Once things were laid out on my bed, Jeanne left to return to the kitchen
and preparing breakfast.

I dressed quickly but couldn't tie my tie! I was so excited to go see Santa!
I went out into the living room and called for my dad to come help me. He
came from the kitchen with a cup of coffee in his hand. He had finished
dressing and looked and smelled great.

"You need some help with that, Kev?", he asked plainly seeing me fuss and
struggle with the little red holiday tie. I nodded.

He set down his coffee and strode right up behind me. My head barely came up
to his belt buckle (and I wasn't even an elf!) as he leaned forward to tie
my tie as we looked into a large mirror next to the piano. I could actually
feel my dad's bulge press into my shoulderblades as he held he close while
tying the knot. I blushed thinking of how I had that thing making such a big
bulge in my mouth. My dad just laughed and asked, "What are you all excited
about? Seeing Santa Claus I bet!"

When he completed tying my tie, he told me to go eat something before we
were to leave. He then returned into the master bedroom quietly, not wanting
to disturb my mother.

I ate some cereal and fruit along with a big glass of milk, (which
incidentally I was quickly becoming dissatisfied since switching to another
kind of milk over the preceding weeks). Jeanne had me tie on a large napkin
as to make certain I got nothing on myself before leaving the house (I
recall thinking that such a device would be perfect the next time I serviced
that gloryhole in toilets at the zoo)!

My dad entered the kitchen, which was lit like a happy oasis in the
comparative dim of the rest of the apartment, as we all tried not to disturb
my mother too much. He said that my mom wasn't feeling well still but was
awake and wanted to wish me a great day seeing Santa. I took off the napkin,
hopped off my chair and went into the darkened master bedroom where my
mother whispered a sweet, "Good morning honey....don't come too close."

I stood close to the doorway not wanting my mother's ailment to screw up my
chances of visiting Santa. "Good morning mom," I said. "I'm sorry you're
feeling so sick especially now..."

"Oh, I know. And I so hate to miss today", she said with great feeling but
without much energy. "But to be better by Christmas, I have to stay in bed
now..."

"I know", I said, wanting her to feel better but also wanting to escape this
"Room of Dreaded Illnesses".

"You look so nice...have Jeanne comb your hair better before you go. Use
some of your daddy's balm. Tell Jeanne to get it from the bathroom here.",
my mom said. "And you have a wonderful day and tell your daddy to let you
pick out any ornament you want in the Christmas shop and remind him to buy
the things on the list I gave him, especially the boxes of Frango mints for
the cathedral committee members..."

"I will, I will...", I said wanting to go. I had a Claus-man to see! Just
then, my dad came in and said, "We'll try to have a good day without
you...and don't worry I have your list!"

He went into the bathroom and came out with his tube of hair balm. "And I
heard you want him to use some. Come on, Kev, let's go into the other
bathroom and put some on you."

We blew kisses to my mother who seemed to fade between them until I think
she may have fallen back to sleep.

We went to my bathroom where my dad put down the toilet seat and had me sit
on it. He then stood directly in front of me, his hefty crotch not inches
from my face as he opened the tube of balm. How I wanted to grope him. But I
couldn't run the risk of him getting mad...and therefore not being able to
visit Santa!

He combed just a bit of cream into my hair and the scent alone made me feel
all grown up! It was the same scent my daddy emitted whenever he was all
dressed up!

I stared at his ample basket the whole time he parted my hair and made sure
I looked like a neatly groomed little boy. "You're gunna knock their socks
off!", he said with a big grin as he held my chin. I didn't know who the
"they" were in his sentence but I blushed none the less.

He then tapped me lightly on the top of my head with the comb, telling me I
was ready. "Lets get on our coats and get going!", dad said.

We left the dark apartment to find a sunny, very cold day outside. Big Bill,
the doorman greeted us at the front doors with a huge grin and tip of his
hat. "Well, you two are both looking especially dapper and handsome this
morning!", he said to us as he hailed us a cab.

"Well, it's a very special day", dad said.

"We're going to see SANTA today!", I exclaimed, unable to hold in my
enthusiasm. Funny how I'd never tell of men unzipping their pants yet could
not keep such a thing as seeing Santa to myself!

"Oh! SANTA!", Big Bill chuckled. "That IS a special day...I hope its almost
as special as your special zoo day was, from I heard."

I didn't know what Big Bill meant. How could he have known...unless he knew
of someone who was there that day.

As we waited for a free taxi to pass, Big Bill asked my father, "So where
are taking him to see the old guy?"

"Marshall Fields", dad replied. "Shopping, lunch and then Santa!"

Big Bill grinned wide. "Oh, that's niiiiiiiiiice. I know the Santa Claus
there..."

"YOU DO?", I gushed with eyes wide open. "You know SANTA CLAUS?!"

"Oh, sure, I know that Santa pretty well". He said, winking at my dad. "He's
an especially good Santa...loves good little boys like you."

"Well, we'll have to say hello to him from you, Bill", my father laughed
knowingly.

"Oh, he'll know ME', that's for sure," Bill replied as he reached for the
door handle of a taxi that pulled up along side the curb. My dad and I
hopped in and were on our way to see SANTA!

More to cum...
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