X Journey 2

Chapter 2:

Disclaimer: This story involves, or is going to, characters from X-Men. The characters in this story have no relation to the REAL characters and/or the actors that play them in real life, and imply nothing of their sexual orientation, (No matter how much we would like it to) and any similarities are purely coincidental. All X-Men and other related elements are property of Marvel.

I was so scared that I lost my hardon instantly; Devin on the other hand was still hard as a rock. What was my dad going to do, what is going to happen to me? I had all this questions going through my mind, when my dad spoke.

"Didn't know that you were busy... I heard some noises from downstairs and I wanted to see how you were doing."

Wait, WHAT?!? That's all that he can say, there's no yelling or threatening to kick someone's ass to China and back.

Then, I see my dad do the oddest thing I have ever seen in my entire life, he raises his and puts it out to Devin.

"I'm Jacob's dad, Anthony. But most people just call me Tony." That was said very nonchalantly for someone who just walked in on his son getting his brains fucked.

Devin looked at me funny and removed his right from my hip and shook my dad's hand, he looked like he was shitting bricks but he was still hard despite the awkward situation.

Then my dad changed his countenance a little, here it comes, it's all going to come out now.

"Well Devin, I'm not one to disturb a man from doing his duty," he said slowly walking away, "please continue to `give it to him' but on one condition."

Okay, this is weird. My dad wasn't yelling, absolutely nothing, he looked like he just walked in on me while I was studying for a test or something.

"I must watch." He pulled up a chair that was at my desk and sat down.

There was no ultimatum, he had to watch. I'm here utterly confused at the situation and I could feel Devin's dick get harder.

He lowered himself and whispered into my ear, "We now have an audience to please, let's give your dad a show that he will never forget," and with that he began to nibble on my ear and started to thrust once again.

I will admit it was weird having my dad watch us, sure I dreamed about this but I never thought that this would actually happen. I got used the idea of him watching us. I started to get into it again.

"Yes, yes, yes. Just like that. Fuck me you stud." I began to beg again.

Devin was pounding away, when I looked over at my dad. He was just wearing his shoes now, his clothes were laying on floor and his dick was rock hard leaking pre-cum. He began to jerk off to us. I was somewhat flattered and really turned on.

"So, Pops, when are you going to join us?" I said pointing and curling my finger.

He got up with his dick bouncing in the air. He came to my face. I was met with a perfectly straight nine inch tool that was my creator. He looked down at me.

"Open your mouth, so I can face fuck you." His voice was a little raspy, it was hot.

He didn't have to tell me twice, I opened wide and he shoved his dick so far in that I was gagging every time he stuck it back in but I was enjoying it. I was getting pounded from ends, the baseball star in one end and my dad on the other. I was screaming in pleasure, I was in heaven.

I suddenly felt someone shake me. But no one did it. Then it happened again.

I woke up to my father trying to shake me into consciousness and I was launched back into reality.

"Jacob, are you okay? Because you were screaming, were you having a nightmare?"

A nightmare... HA! That's funny; I was getting fucked by probably the hottest guy in my school and you were face fucking me until you interrupted me, I knew that all worked out too well to be true.

"What? Yeah, yeah, I was having a nightmare." I was half drowsy, felt like I was drunk, also kind of mad that he woke me up from such an amazing dream, and at the same time I'm trying to hide the massive hardon that developed while I was dreaming.

"Emily told me that you were going to skip dinner, I was on my way up to check on you to see if you needed anything. And that's when I heard you screaming."

My dad has his good moments when it comes to parenting, and this is one of them.

"Yeah, Pops. I'm fine, I just had a really bad headache, migraine thing that was killing me. I thought that if I gave my head a rest it would get better." As I was saying that, started to remember why I went to sleep in the first place, my headache was gone, to my much relief.

"And? Do you feel any better?" He placed his hand on my shoulder.

I nodded, "Yeah, much better. But now I have something else that is killing me."

He looked concerned, "What is it?"

"My stomach... I haven't had anything to eat since noon during lunch." I smiled.

My dad was never one for clothes, he freeballed when he wore pants, jeans, shorts, anything. And in the house the only thing that he wore was just a pair of pajama pants. His back was always sexy to me, along with any other muscular back, but his was different to me than anyone else's. I guess it was because he was my dad. He just laughed and left my room, and I of course starred as he was walking out.

I dragged myself over to my nightstand to check the time on the alarm clock. 7:30, not too bad, I could still have a full dinner and not feel guilty about it later.

I walked out of my room into an empty and dark hallway. I have lived in this house for years and I'm still creeped out by how it looks in the dark. But luckily, thanks to years of experience, I am able to walk through the house in the dark when I need to. I was all the way down the stairs and I didn't need much instinct to find the kitchen.

As I got closer to the doorway of the kitchen I could hear my dad and my sister playing with each other on the couch. This is where you see my dad become a five year old; he laughs, giggles, and acts like a buffoon, when they both play like this. My sister has no excuse either, she's 13, and is in the same boat as my dad.

"Noooooo! That's unfair! You can't do that." My sister looked mad and had both her fist in the air, like she was some monkey or something.

"What do you mean, Nippy?" My dad had a grin that stretched from ear to ear. He probably hit her while she wasn't looking. And for some reason, one of my sister's many nicknames is "Nippy," which is short for nipples. Don't ask me how on EARTH she got that nick name; her boobs aren't even that big, most likely it was coined by my dad.

It's always a funny scene to them fight, my sister is 5'3" and weighs about 100 pounds and my dad whose 6 foot and weighs over 200 pounds, great contrast. And then you see my poor mom at the end of the sofa, being terrorized by what going on the other half of the sofa. She's been wacked quite a few times by a flying hand, arm, foot, and the occasional leg. I could see that she wasn't too happy by what was going on.

She got up from the sofa. My mom is beautiful. She's about 5'9" with a brownish-red color in her hair, and the most amazing set of cheekbones that I know of, which I luckily got from her. She's also thin, but still a great set of curves on her body and is very proportionate.

She sees me as she gets up, frustrated, from the sofa, "I can NEVER eat when those two are on the sofa," yelling just a bit. She turned back to me, "Everything okay? Emily told me that you had a major headache and were going to skip dinner." She was holding her salad bowl in one hand and her water in the other, and walked past me to put the dishes in the sink.

"Yeah. But I'm much better now that I took that nap." I looked back at the five year olds, "But I don't know if it's going to stay away," I said laughing.

She just rolled her eyes in response. "Emily made her Oriental Chicken-Chop Salad for dinner; it came out really good today."

Emily comes out of nowhere, "Thank you," she was smiling, "Would you like some Jacob-san."

I nodded, "Please."

I took a seat at the counter that is between the kitchen and living room, there was no way that I was going to sit in that sofa with World War III happening over there.

My mom is a mom. A complete worry-wart and I know when I go to college that I WILL need to call her every day; if not she will think that I'm rolling around half-way dead in some dumpster somewhere.

She comes up to me, "You sure you're okay? You don't need to go the hospital or anything like that, right? Do you need me to take your temperature?" She got a little closer to with each question she was asking.

And of course I'm seated, so I can't really move, "Yeah mom, I'm fine." She stepped back a little but was still looking at me. "Yes, I'm sure." She seemed to get that I was OKAY.

"That salad was absolutely delicious." I told Emily while placing the bowl in the sink. An odd thing happened to the bowl; it looked as if I didn't drop it in but landed in the sink. I had to do a double take. Emily was washing the dishes when I put the bowl in and she didn't say anything or didn't look at me funny, so I passed it off as my imagination playing tricks on me.

I went upstairs, with the lights on this time. I went into my closet, turned on the light, and picked out a pair of pajama pants and a sleeping shirt, so that I could take a bath. My bathroom is attached to my room and it's private, it's not shared with another room or anything like that. So, I basically could have removed my clothes, put them in the hamper that's in the closet and walked nonchalantly into the bathroom. But, I'm not much of an exhibitionist, so I never do; and when I'm in the bathroom I always lock the door. I don't really know why, but that's how I've always been, since I can remember. But, my childhood doesn't count, I ran naked around the house with my mom trying to feed me my food, but that was YEARS ago, so it definitely doesn't count.

I designed my bathroom, when we were making the house. I want to become an interior designer, so it was natural that I did. When I asked my parents, at the age of 13, they actually agreed to do it. I think when I submitted my "plans" to them for the bathroom they were impressed and followed what I had done on the drawings. After the bathroom was done, that's when they told me that they were originally going to take the drawings as "suggestions," I was somewhat hurt when I found that out, but I got the bathroom I wanted so I was fine in the end.

The beige travertine floor is heated so that you never get cold feet when you step out of the shower, good thing I decided to do that because I never wear shoes or socks. I went over to my bath tub to draw the water. It was a deep soaking tub and the best part is that it doesn't have that annoying little drain hole at the foot of the tub, I really hate that thing. I made sure that the water was the right temperature and made my way over to my vanity to remove my clothing because that's where the built-in hamper is located.

I removed my clothes and looked in the mirror. I will say that I'm not half bad, but of course, me being me, there has always been something wrong with my body. I guess it's just a phobia that I have developed over the years, when you're overweight as child and lost about 55 pounds, I guess it's natural. But now, I have a relatively small body, I'm a 28 in jeans, and a small in shirts and only about 135 pounds. But as Liz loves to remind me, I do have a pretty good pair of legs on me and a tight ass to match.

I walked over to the bath tub, put my jasmine and lavender bath salt (I take my baths very seriously) and went right in. The water was hot, but my body has gotten so used to this temperature it was nothing. The water has always been something to relax me, whenever I have anything going on in my life, no matter how chaotic it may get, the water has been there as a constant to help relieve my stress. I guess I have this bond with water because I lived so close to it here in Miami my entire life.

I must have been there an hour, at least. My hands looked like raisins! As I started to put my pajamas, when I realized that the water didn't get cold at all, it stayed the same temperature the whole time. That's odd, I didn't really pay that much attention to it, the tub is well insulated.

I left the bathroom and went to my Vaio on my desk. I turned it on and went online to check my Facebook. Since I hadn't checked it out in a couple days I had 3 million notifications. After checking some profiles, writing on some people's walls, and making witty and sarcastic comments on some people's photos I signed off to check my email. I logged in and had a billion emails. After going through the emails, which were mostly from Facebook, spam mails about some woman getting fucked by horses, and the like. I looked to the bottom right of the screen and saw that it was only 10:30. But for some reason I felt so tired once again and head started to pound again.

I ran downstairs, picked up a bottle of Fiji and the entire bottle of Tylenol, just in case, and told my parents that I was going to sleep early.

I got to my room shut off all my lights and set the alarm clock at the god forsaken of time of 7 a.m., have I mentioned how I HATE mornings, so I can somehow get to school by eight.

Hope you guys are able to pick up the foreshadowing. Can you guess his mutant ability(ies)...? If you guys have an questions, comments, suggestions, or to tell me how much you are in love with the story (lol :)) you can email me at imartistic90@yahoo.com. The next installment will be here soon.