---
title: 'Chapter 2'
pp_protect: '0'
---

## Chapter 2

Date: Wed, 9 Mar 2016 08:11:10 +1100
From: Taylor Foxx <taylor.foxx.author@gmail.com>
Subject: The Mistake Text Message

Hey everyone! I'm back with part two of my story. If you like this, please
visit and subscribe to my blog, where you'll find these stories with
photos, and more writing as well. Here it is:

taylorfoxxauthor.tumblr.com

If you like my writing, check out my novel on Amazon. Search for "Taylor
Fox The Boy Next Door" on Google and you'll find it. Reviews help me get
notices, so if you do read it and like it, please rate it or leave a
review! It will help me write more.

You can also contact me at taylor.foxx.author@gmail.com or on KIK at
TaylorFoxxAuthor. I love hearing and chatting with you.

Please donate to Nifty!

Now sit back, relax, and enjoy.


I had an extra sick day to take, and by the time my son had left for
school, I was horny enough to call in and use it up. That's because I am
getting off more than I ever have before on what's happening between me and
my kiddo. Oddly enough, the hottest part is that he STILL hasn't mentioned
it. I can tell he's nervous around me, but I think he still thinks he's
fooling me. He's not.

I see how he tenses up whenever I walk into the room, even if I do so
silently, like my scent has him on edge. And since I've seen how much my
son has enjoyed my most recent gift (thanks to a nanny cams I placed
throughout his room), I know that he has a much more intimate understanding
of my musk than ever before.

I've seen how he stares at me when he thinks I'm not looking. The number of
times I've turned around of turned my head to see him quickly look away is
alarming. But the funny thing is, his eyes never seem to be focused on
anything but my crotch. Imagine that.

It's so fucking hilarious and makes it easy for me to make more movies for
the sicko, because I'm cumming so often. Thank god I'm reliably a big
shooter - I know the kid would be disappointed if I didn't send a drenching
video.

So now I'm sitting here thinking what to do with my day off, and as I start
to think of the many awful things I want to do to my son, my cock just
leaks uninterrupted onto the floor. And that's what gives me my genius
idea.

In an instant I'm on my feet and walking down the hallway buck naked, my
cock leading the way toward my son's room at the end of the hall. I'm about
to enter his room when I stop and think, why not start now? First I open my
phone and start filming. I point the camera straight down my body as I
smack my cock hard against the cold metal doorknob and rub my glistening
head all over it, coating in my prefuck.

"That was a freebie," i say as I push open the door. I take in my son's
bedroom. He's lived in this bedroom his whole life. I remember when we
painted the walls with fish and gave him a shipwreck kid's bed that he
loved. We had to replace it years ago with a normal bed, but there are
still some traces of the fish on the walls if you look closely.

Anyway, I'm not here to reminisce about the good memories I have with my
son. I'm here to rub my clear cock snot all over everything. And my camera
phone captures all of it.

For the next thirty minutes, I rub my precum on EVERYTHING I can
see. Nothing is untouched by my dick. I start with his bed, rubbing my cock
snot across his pillows. I climb into his bed and hump his sheets for him,
feeling myself ooze out into the cotton.

Once I've totally soiled the bed with my cock, I move on to his desk,
rubbing my glistening, weeping head all over his nerdy science fiction
books and his laptop. I even open the laptop and cum on the keys. Hopefully
it won't ruin it, but I couldn't resist.

His walls, his dresser, even his carpet-precum, precum, precum from Dad. I
even got into his closet, slopping up his clothes and giving his childhood
teddy bear (he thinks I don't know he still has it) a good precum mask. And
my phone captures every second of it.

When I'm satisfied that I've really oozed out as much precum as possible, I
head back into his room and set my phone down on his desk. The screen will
be black, but the audio will still record.

I turn back around and scan the room, Finally my eyes land on the perfect
spot for my load. I walk over to the spot, feeling like a wolf about to
piss on his territory, and begin to jerk myself off. I don't rush this one,
like some of the "quickie" videos I've sent my son over the past few
weeks. I really make this a good one, I do lots of groaning and grunting,
and the sound my hands make on my own throbbing rod is almost
sickening. But I know my son will be loving it.

I really get into the performance, and start talking to my son somewhat
indirectly, just alerting him that I'm going to "shoot the biggest fucking
wad of the cum that made him" soon.

The thought that sends me over the edge is the realization that this is the
only room in my own home that I haven't shot a load in. After all, this has
been my son's room since the day he was born and we brought him home from
the hospital. Jerking off had never even crossed my mind until a few weeks
ago, and if it had, I would have immediately dismissed the notion as
perverted. Now I'm fucking relishing in it, and envisioning my cum
squirting out of my cock and into this environment-my son's bedroom-helps
make that vision a reality.

As predicted (and as always), it's a massive load, and the spray on it not
only goes a long distance, in front of me but also in a wide range as
well. I know my son will know the number for sure, but I lose count of the
number of grunts I let out as each volley of my thick sperm shoots out onto
the spot I've chosen to mark.

When I'm finally done squeezing out the last of my load, and then wiping my
cock off on the spot, I head back to my phone and pick it up, giving my son
only the briefest glimpse at my somewhat deflated cock.

I smile at the camera. "Happy hunting," I say. Then I flip him off for good
measure and end the video. It takes no time at all to upload it into a text
message and send it to my son. But I know that little effort will send him
into a tailspin, and I'll have a front row seat.

***

The video came in while I was at school, but thankfully I was by
myself. I'd learned pretty quickly to silence all my notifications o my
phone while I was at school, and to avoid opening any messages from my Dad
when anyone else was present. I also waited to open them up until I knew I
had easy access to some private place, so I could go pathetically wank one
out watching my father humiliate me over text message.

I did feel so pathetic--that was my number one emotion, if you can call it
that. I felt so humiliated and weak, powerless. He had so much control over
me, and I had none over him. Any time he wanted, he could throw my world
upside down by sending a free text message. But I couldn't even get up the
strength to confront him about it.

If the normal jerking off vids were making me feel pathetic, than the video
that came through that day made me feel like a worm. I was flooded with
confusion as I watched him in my bedroom, the one place at home I could go
and not have to be around him and the heavy air that was always between us
now.

I watched him wipe the cock that made me over every inch of every surface
in my room. Until then, my room had been where I retreated to quickly
masturbate and the listen to music or do my homework, anything to distract
me from my father's cock and is cum-producing testicles.

I actually let out a whimper when I saw my Dad put down the phone so that
the screen went black. And I thought I might hyperventilate when I realized
what he was doing---that my father was squirting out a load in my childhood
bedroom, and I had no idea where he was putting it.

By the time he was flipping me off and wishing me a "Happy hunting," I had
already decided to skip my last class and head straight home.

***

When I got home, Dad was sitting on the couch in the living room. He was
just there, right in front of me, as soon as I opened the door. He was
fully dressed, reading the paper like he always does when he gets home from
work---which I guess was early that day. Judging by the time stamp on the
most recent text message, he didn't go into work at all. If he sent it
right after he made it, which I had figured out he almost always did, then
only minutes ago he had emptied out his balls in my room.

I freeze in the doorway, and Dad slowly lowers the paper. He smile sat me.

"You're home early, kiddo."

Fuck. I hate this. I hate how he plays this game with me. We both know this
is fucked up---that's he's been torturing me. He knows I should still be at
school. I know he should be at work. I want to scream at him, to tell him I
know, but I can't.

Instead, I actually develop a full on stutter. "I-I-I-i..." I try to start
again. "W-w-w-we..."

"You ok, son?" he asks, mock concern on his face.

Finally I manage to mumble something about a half day and bolt from the
room, running as fast as I can (and tripping on the stairs - sure my dad
saw that) to my bedroom.

I throw open the door, unable to stop myself, and breathe in heavily. I
swear I can smell it. I can smell the cum, but the scent of my father's
precum is overwhelming, making it impossible to sniff it out.

I close my eyes for a moment, then start to recall all the places that my
father had wiped his precum. I start making my way around the room,
starting at my bed and making my way around, to my desk, the walls, even
the carpet.

I'm ashamed to admit this, but I licked everything. My desk, my pillows,
everything I saw my dad's cock touch, I licked. I licked the wallpaper like
I was in Willie Wonka. I sucked on the fibers of my carpet. If there was
even a remote chance that my father's cock had been there, my tongue was
there too.

I kept hoping I would come across the payload, but by the time I'd licked
every single surface I was sure he'd violated (and quite a few I wasn't
certain about, just in case), I hadn't come across anything that resembled
the sheer quantity of jizz I knew my dad could produce. I knew how long it
took cum to completely dry, and knowing my Dad's load, there would be at
least be a stain to remind me. But nothing.

Until my eyes turned to my closet.

I noticed the door was slightly ajar, which I know wasn't an accident. I
always make sure to shut that door firmly, because it's where I keep
my...erm...private things.

I walk over to the closet slowly---suddenly I'm feeling a lot less anxious
for my dad's cum and a lot more nervous. That closet is my personal space,
and the stuff in there I don't even touch very often myself. It's all
childhood momentos - my box of baseball cards, old books I used to read, my
old journals and drawings from when I was a kid.

And my old blanket. The blanket my dad had bought the day after I was born,
to put into my crib. The one I grew up with clutching at all times. The
blanket that's in almost all of my childhood photos.

That blanket, which I'm certain I'd folded up and tucked away in the back
of this closet, now lies in a crumpled heap in the middle of the closet
floor.

Fuck, I think to myself. My dad used my security blanket as a cum rag.

That thought is enough to push me over the edge. I dive to the floor and
grab my blanket. It's a tattered, dirty old thing, but I can sense the jizz
on it, and I no longer care about all the sentimental memories it
holds. What's more important now is that its fibres are soaking up my
father's sperm, and I need to get to it before it's all gone.

I pull it apart, and there, in the enter of my blanket, is a large, wet,
sticky stain. It's mostly seeped in to the fabric, but there are still some
white globs, which are only exposed to the air for a moment before I have
them in my mouth and I'm swallowing down the first cum I've ever tasted. My
father's.

And it's the best, most satisfying experience of my life to date. I don't
remember much - just sinking to the floor with my blanket in my mouth,
curled up in the fetal position as I sucked the cum out of my oldest
friend.

I must have lay there for hours, because by the time I got up, the sun had
set. I only came to out of my fathers-sperm-induced coma when I had sucked
up every last drop. I hadn't been able to taste his cum for at least an
hour by that point, so I was pretty certian it was all done.

When I stood up, I felt...so strange. Better, satisfied, but also disgusted
with myself. And tired. Tired of what my dad had been doing to me. Tired of
him thinking he can just treat me like some cum slut and get away with it -
even if I was really a cum slut for him. I was going to get my life
back. It was time to make my move.

Blog: TaylorFoxxAuthor.tumblr.com

KIK: TaylorFoxxAuthor

Email: Taylor.Foxx.Author@gmail.com

Novel: Google Search "The Boy Next Door" by Taylor Foxx