UNCLE, GRUNGE & LOVE: Chapter Ten
But time - as it does - moved on, and after our tender kiss he rolled off the bed as if this morning was like any other morning - he stood over me, stretching, his cock still hard, drooling pre-cum, and smiled down on me.
"Time to get to work, Stewart," he said, sounding like a fucking father, and then he yanked me out of bed. "Get the coffee - I got to take a shit."
He stalked out of the room to the bathroom. I followed, stumbling, in a daze, wanting to join him but not wanting to violate his orders.
Soon enough coffee was on, and then I was in the bathroom - he was still there, reclining on the toilet, relaxed and awake. I kneeled before him, naked.
The stank was intense, but having consumed him, it didn't seem to have as much of an impact on me. I couldn't quite wrap my head around that. I knew I was supposed to be revulsed by the smell in this small space. I blinked - trying to get my bearings in my new reality.
"What are you doing here," he said, asking the question directly.
"Thank you, Daddy -" is how I answered. "Thank you for this morning."
I was naked - I was dizzy. I had lost track of time and reality.
"Answer my question, son," he said, patiently, even as he adjusted his seat on the toilet. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees.
"I usually brush my teeth, now, Dad, but I don't want to lose your taste in my mouth." My answer was honest. This was one of the reasons I needed him to be in charge. I actually did not know what to do in this seminal moment.
A smile crested his handsome face. In that moment I saw he was as transformed as I was. He had masterfully accomplished this scene - His first feeding - and had done so on instinct, surprising us - but, really, surprising both of us. He had understood that the moment was before us and He had lead us over the line.
"Brush your teeth, kid," he said, nearly giggling. "Never underestimate the importance of good dental hygiene."
I laughed - how could I not? He broke the seriousness of the moment even as he continued to lead us through it.
"Then - when you're done - you're gonna clean my hole like a good toilet boy - you'll have my taste for the rest of the day."
The logic was so pure that I didn't even think about this next hurdle that he placed in our path. I turned, beginning to brush. As I did I felt his face in my butt, and I spread for him, letting him lick at my open taint which - just a few minutes before - he had split and entered and held as he had massaged me to morning life.
He was as unabashedly into my hole as I was into his - and it was hard to stay focused on the task at hand. But he slapped my ass, reminding me I would be late, and so I kept focused. Then, I was done - spitting and rinsing, and he let up on my hole, as I turned. He looked at me, meaningfully, but sternly and then rose. He turned, leaning over the toilet, and pushed his ass out. Again, what was occurring was the naturalization of our deviance. I fell to my knees as he spread his legs, and he said, "Get to it, son." The depth of his voice reverberated in the small space.
I grabbed his ass and spread it - eyes dancing on the hole and then seeing the large log that floated, singularly, in the yellow water, below. And then I was in his trench, getting to work, and what was always a fantasy became a reality, and I tasted his gunge, licking and caressing his hole, ensuring its normality with my abnormal tongue. It was an easy job. His 'boy' as he called it had slid out unencumbered and left very little trace. But I still did the job without slacking, licking and sucking each crevice, pushing my tongue where I could find the real remnant of him, and eventually all traces were inside of me - dancing on my tastebuds and in my willing mouth.
Then he straightened, snapping his fingers, and I stood beside him. He looked down at the bowl.
We looked at it together - at the centrality of our raunch, and yet, there was something so natural and male about the moment - a masculine tableau - and it felt familial. There was a Norman Rockwell [Norman Cockwell?] quality to the moment that shook through me as I stared at his shit in the toilet, overwhelmed by it, but feeling a part of it, too. A Dad and his son standing over the toilet - marveling at nature's process.
We were not Dad and son, of course - we were fucking deviants. But, the normalcy of the moment was profound. And as we moved through our deviance, we came closer and closer to Dad and son roles. They seemed to suit us - and our fantasy structures.
"You swallowed some of that," he said.
"I know."
I wondered if he expected me to reach down and take more. But, I didn't want to - the moment had passed and, in any event - I knew instinctively it would be so much better from the source.
"Do you think you can take it all, son?" he asked, gripping my shoulder with his large hand.
Again, the question was just a question. He had a way of asking that was innocent: true naiveite that required a simple, but direct answer.
"I don't know, Dad - I'm gonna try." My cock rose again. If anything, that was a betrayal of my desires.
Then, he leaned over and flushed it away.
"Get dressed, kid," he said, pushing me out of the bathroom. "I'm taking you to work."
"But -" I protested, stumbling into the small living room -
"Shut it," he said. "It's all part of the plan."
I was in my coveralls in just a few minutes. The dank, musty smell had become familiar. Jayson had thrown on jeans and a sweatshirt. He had a way of looking so hot while being so casual that was unlike anything I'd ever encountered. Then we were out the door, me following, and I was climbing into his truck.
I loved it in here - the truck was another symbol of his masculinity: a big-assed Dodge Ram, loaded with gym clothes, an errant jock (which I picked up and sniffed, to his raucous laughter) and a variety of sports gear, balls and other bullshit that signaled his natural maleness. Then we were driving - me giving him directions as he navigated through morning traffic. For the first time in weeks I didn't have to worry about being late. In my belly was a part of him - satisfied.
"That was intense," I said, eventually, not really knowing that I intended to talk.
"Yeah - it was," he said, then eyed me, winking, as he gunned it through a red light.
"I mean - I thought we would - you know - do a more - I don't know -"
"I know what you mean - like a lengthier scene? I thought, that, too, but the moment presented itself and I really wanted it to happen - I was ready... I thought you were, too."
"I was."
"It was instinct - figured that the more we delayed the more ... I don't know ... intense it would get and I don't think it should be. I mean - it is. It IS intense - VERY - but you and I, Stewart - we're twisted the same way. I just want to integrate it - make it ... "
"Normal."
"Yeah."
"Is that sick?" I asked, looking at him.
"Yeah. It's fucking sick. It's disgusting. I fucking love it, though."
"Me too."
"You okay?" he asked, meaning it.
"Yeah - so good. Fuck Jay - I want more." I surprised myself with the intensity of that statement. But, it was the truth.
"I know - me too, kid. Wait until Sunday."
"Balls are aching, too -"
"You have no idea how much blue-ball pain I'm in." Then we were getting close and I said so, pointing to the U-Turn he had to make to get to the rear of the store. He swung the big truck around. Some of the guys out back saw it - it was a fucking- big-ass, loud-ass, hot-ass truck and it was the kind of thing they would notice.
"Another day at the gym after work - was thinking of going light on you but after this morning, I know you can take it. We got to hammer in your routine 'cuz next week I'm fucked with work. And this weekend I'm fucked with life. Understood?"
"Yessir."
"So - be ready - but we'll probably do Take-Out tonight - and take it easy."
"Okay, Dad," I said, meekly, enjoying him taking the lead.
He pulled into the lot with a screech that attracted more attention.
"That's it - have a good day, son."
I nodded, hopping out of the truck, huge smile on my face. I waved at him and he looked at me, letting me cross the parking lot to the loading dock, and then blasting the horn, nice and loud and long. I jumped - he motioned back, and I jogged back.
"What's up?"
"You forgetting something, son?"
"Uh - I don't - " and then he pulled out the shopping list, and a wad of bills. "This is the list. Remember?"
"Right - sorry - I uh .. you know... this morning - my head's all ..." I was blushing. The guys on the dock were staring at me.
"It's not a big list - get it done, quick, then text me - I'll come pick you up."
"You don't need to -"
"Stop it Stewart," he said, with intensity. "I'm tired of hearing about all the things I don't need to do for you. You ate my shit this morning, son - I'm gonna come pick you up so you don't have to haul groceries on the bus. Understood?"
"Yessir," I said, blushing, looking at my feet, feeling like a dumbshit, but loving every moment of his care.
"Good - now have a good day."
"See ya later, Jay," I said, smiling as big as I could, splitting back to the dock. I was nearly late now - but fortunately the guys had turned their backs.
Then, just as I got to the punch-clock, the horn blasted again. This time it was long and loud, and when I turned back, I could tell the asshole was obviously having the time of his life. WTF? He motioned me and I ran back this time, getting frustrated, but still in the thrall of his craziness.
"You forgetting something, son?" he said again. Same tone. But huge shit-eating grin on his face (no pun intended).
"Jay - I don't - what?" I tried not to express frustration but was about to get overwhelmed again, and then he reached out the window with his left arm, grabbed my neck, pulled my head into the cab and gave me the biggest, wettest, sloppiest and most public French kiss I'd ever gotten. This time the guys whooped - two of them crying out like chimpanzees, which only attracted more attention. It would be all over the store in minutes.
"Love you, kid," he said, smiling like he was the king of world. "Have a good day."
Then he punched it, peeling out, brushing the side of the truck up against my loose coveralls, and left me standing in his smoke, dazed and confused and as happy as I had ever been in my entire life.
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