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Learning from Daddy

Posted by: SoloTouchArchive Author: admin Posted on: 14 Apr 2005 2 comments
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by Rodman This is a true story and it's one I recall from time to time as one of the first times I realised - very powerfully - that I was attracted to men. When I was around twelve my father (a cop) had a buddy who owned a sheep and cattle farm on a peninsula coast that has one of the wildest and most remote coastlines in our part of the country. For a couple of hundred miles due north and south, there's a shoreline of dunes and scrub and desolate country, spiked only by occasional small rivers flowing to the sea and the entrances to harbours. There are very few people there as the countryside is poor. It's a wild lee coast that's seen many shipwrecks and where the shallow coastal shelf drops away quickly, sometimes straight off the beach, into deep Pacific waters. It's a treacherous place, with swift currents. Like any straight guy, my Dad liked to get away from the wife and family from time to time. His buddy, who was single, knew the coastline close to his farm very well, and once was briefly locally famous for coming across a big lump of ambergris coughed up by a whale.(Ambergris is used as a fixative for perfumes in the cosmetics industry: he got thousands of dollars from this lucky beach find.) My Dad and his buddy used to take us kids fishing: sometimes all of us, sometimes just one. We'd get our Dad and his friend to cast our lines out beyond the line of wild breakers and very few times went by without a sudden tug on the line and the exciting and tiring task of reeling in a big snapper or small shark or some other variety of fish that we didn't know at all. On this particular occasion, I went alone with my Dad: I think he thought at the time that as I was approaching puberty it would do me good to be around him and his friend - just all guys together. The plan was to camp out in the dunes for a week or so, as he and his buddy had decided to build a fishing shack up in the dunes. Since the beach was so vast and wild, people could do almost anything they wanted, provided it was out of sight of the authorities. The dunes, ceaselessly created by the westerly ocean winds, stretched back several hundred yards towards the base of the land. They formed a maze of valleys and hollows in which pockets of trees and scrub grew, and where, here and there, small rivers and creeks flowed out towards the beach. Some creeks, like the one in the particular secret, well-hidden hollow we favoured, petered out into the dry sand, but the water was fresh and clean. Needless to say I considerably enjoyed the site of these two working men as I helped, in a small way, to build the timber shack.It was full summer, and hot, so although they kept their shorts on, partly out of modesty and partly out of practical considerations - building in the nude makes you a bit vulnerable to small accidents - I was still treated to the sight of two mature, well-built,sweating men stripped to the waist with no women around. I can still remember how good they smelled! After the day's work, we'd walk over the crest of the dunes to the beach and they would skinny-dip on the deserted beach. I'd see flashes of big dicks, tight asses and swinging balls as they horsed about - carefully - in the dangerous surf. But although they didn't mind being naked in front of me, they took care to preserve a certain level of modesty. At night after I'd gone to sleep in a tent nearby, they'd sit beside a fire and yarn and drink whisky: two well-exercised, tired happy guys. But I guess that all healthy guys need a bit of relief from time to time, and so my curiosity wasn't aroused at first when my Dad sent me on expeditions down the beach or way up to the headwaters of the creek to gather watercress. Each of these trips took at least an hour and I didn't dare come back without what I had been sent to find. And I have to say that my Dad's friend was never there at the times this happened: the demands of his farm meant that he was always going back and forth. What triggered my curiosity though was that my Dad announced one day that he was going to build a fresh water shower, by tapping the waters of the creek into a demountable piping system. Most of the time the creek would flow freely, but when they wanted a freshwater shower, they could divert the water for the duration of their need. This plan involved slightly increasing the depth of a small escarpment over which the creek flowed: I helped my Dad scoop out the sand and place rocks to make a step-like place to stand under the pipe, and to fix up the pipe - a reasonably easy task. So after the pipe had been installed and tested and removed again, my Dad sent me off to gather watercress for dinner - but not without having casually mentioned that he was going to try out the shower and would let me know how it went. I duly set out and for reasons that are still unknown to me - well, I do know really - I remembered there was an overlooked patch of watercress very close by up the creek that I could gather. So after making sure that my Dad saw me heading away over the slope of a dune ( I think I called and waved), I quickly doubled back around to where I also knew there was a patch of scrub very close - about 10 feet from the escarpment - where I could hide unseen. Kids are very good at hiding unseen. Almost on cue, my Dad appeared from the half-built shack about 30 feet away, still wearing his sweaty shorts but with towel and soap in hand. He proceeded to rig up the pipe and watched it for a moment. Then he slipped off his shorts and I was treated to my first real sight of my Dad in the nude. He was in his late 30s at the time and a well-built, handsome man, with a hairy chest, strongly-built torso and powerful legs and thighs. He stuck his head and shoulders under the shower and proceed to soap up. Pretty soon he was rubbing his abs, alternating that with soapings of his ass and thighs. I then saw what I still vividly remember today: his uncut 7-inch cock slowly raising itself above the horizontal. My Dad soaped it, pulling the foreskin right back so his cockhead was fully exposed and teasing the area of sensitive skin that usually covers the head. With the same hand he reached down and caressed his big, plum-like balls a couple of times. Then he looked around, half-suspicious, in a couple of directions (I froze) and then turned towards the rock escarpment. He began to stroke his cock in earnest. All I could see though was the muscles in his ass and thighs clenching as he alternately bent his knees and straightened. And then he did something that set my 12 year old heart racing. He turned around and sat down on the edge of the shower step, with his ass positioned on the edge and his legs splayed out. I could see all of him: his powerful muscled thighs, his hairy abs, his big balls (now tight with arousal) and his engorged prick partly covered by his right hand - his fingers were spread down the length of his shaft and his thumb teased the ridge of his cock. His head was soon thrown back as he stroked. The water from the pipe poured down just behind his back, and when he moved in his enjoyment, it sometimes splashed on to the back of his head. Next, with an unexpectedly delicate movement, he reached over to the cake of soap he had placed at his side and got his right hand good and sticky. He then proceeded to stroke up and down, up and down his rod, with a slowly increasing rhythm. With his left hand he cupped his balls and moved his legs towards each other and apart a few times. He started to moan. And then, as his fingers moved in a quickening rhythm, I saw my first male orgasm: a couple of ropes of white semen suddenly sprayed up from his cock and splatted on his chest and hands. My Dad's legs moved and squeezed convulsively and he gave out a low, deep, growl I'll never forget. He wasn't the only one who enjoyed it.I was too young to come at the time but I thought that the feeling in my rigid cock was going to kill me. That wasn't the last time I saw my Dad pleasure himself on that trip either (I quickly decided to stay around when I got sent away) - but I'll save that for another story.- Rodman