Artwork 2000 by Rebel Rotica
On the eighth day after the first full moon of autumn, I turned seven years of age, and it was time for my father to take me to the Temple of the Sky, there to first serve the Goddess as was the duty of every lad who turned seven years old. I was nervous as I packed my few things into a length of cloth to carry with me. A bar of soap to cleanse myself, a necklace my mother had given me to wear, which was a blue stone in the shape of a teardrop, a clean wrap to wear should my stay be more than a few days (a horrible thought), some oil for my hair so it would be smooth and shiny, the better to cleanse the one who would choose me. These were my only belongings I was taking. Please, I prayed to the Goddess of the Temple of the Sky, please let me be chosen on my first day. It was such a mark of the Goddess' pleasure, to be chosen quickly after your arrival.
My father stood in the doorway when I was ready. Tall, strong, handsome, my father is, and he looked at me with pride. "My son." he said.
"My father." I said and made the proper gesture of respect.
"May the Sky Goddess show her blessing to you on this day of your birth." My father said.
"I only hope to be so worthy." I agreed.
"Come." My father turned and led the way to the Temple, myself, his son, walking four steps behind him. Standing on the hill my ancestors had labored to build in the center of our town, the Temple of the Goddess was formed of stones crafted to fit so perfectly together that the entire building was like one stone, only the faintest of lines showing the stones, rectangles of gray stone cut flat and polished until it gleamed in the sun's rays, reflecting the sky. It was surrounded by the houses of her worshipers which included my family, the huts built of simpler wood with straw roofs.
My eyes, though, were on my father. Such a tall and masterful man, his stride was one of proud purpose, his body clean and toned by the sun to the color of the drying stalks of corn, his powerful muscles rippling with his every movement. His bare back to me, was smoother than the Temple stones and far more beautiful. The pale bronze of his skin was majestic and I longed to touch it, hold him and be held by him. Far better than the Blessing of the Goddess would be to have my father hold me in his arms. Except for religious rituals, my father had not touched me since soon after my birth. Far better than the Goddess...
But we were now walking through her walls, such thoughts were not to be tolerated here. I must pledge myself to the service of the Goddess of the Sky, otherwise, she would spurn me, her hands would not cause the sun to shine upon me, not bring the clouds that held the rains to water my crops. No, my every thought must be of the Goddess while within her walls....
"My son." My father said as he turned to me. He approached me, to my great surprise, and I watched as his hand, his large and magnificent hand that tended the fields that fed my family and myself, his hand came down and rested upon my shoulder! I nearly swooned at the tenderness of that touch. Better than the Goddess, oh, so much better!
"My son, I must leave you here." my father said. "I shall return in the morning to see if you have been chosen and so may leave."
"I pray it may be so." I said as slowly as I could. His hand remained upon my shoulder still, I looked up into his eyes, a sharp, clear gray, and felt the love from them like the golden rays of the sun, only better, so much better!
"May the Goddess protect you." my father's hand squeezed my shoulder, an actual squeeze! But that was the end of it, he lifted his hand and backed away, my eyes feasted upon him, this man who had touched me at last, at last, truly touched me! Then he turned and walked away, back out the gates and out of the Temple.
Now I must make myself ready to be chosen. I took myself to the fountain where other lads my age were bathing and I cleansed my body as carefully as I could. Done, I donned my wrap again, smoothed and sleeked my hair until it shone in my reflection, and draped around my neck the necklace with the blue stone to nestle between my breasts.
This done, I went to the area of the other waiting boys, knelt down at a clear spot, laid out my length of cloth, and sat upon it, to await the man who would choose me.
A man came over to me, and my heart went into my throat. I started to speak, but the boy next to me said, "Greetings, visitor!"
The man's attention went away from me and he saw the other boy and smiled. "Greetings." he returned.
"Won't you choose me and take me with you into the Temple?" the boy asked.
"Indeed I shall." the man extended his hand, the boy took it, and the man led him into the inner gate.
Curse! I thought to myself. I must not let this happen again. My father would return in the morning, and I wanted to honor him by being free to go with him when he did!
But the next man stopped before he got as far as I was, and so did the next and the next. Worried, I moved my cloth to be nearer the front gate, but the men then seemed to wish to see all the boys that were available, they passed me by, chose others. I moved my cloth twice more before sundown, but it was hopeless. The gates were closed for the night, and I was left to wrap the cloth about me as best I could, and shiver through the night.
My father arrived soon after dawn, but I could only look at him and shake my head around and around, nothing, no, not yet. My father's smile drooped, and he dropped his eyes down in disappointment, turned and walked back to our house and his fields.
I returned to the fountain, washed myself again, put on my other wrap in hopes that its lighter color might be more appealing. I smiled at every man who came near, as the afternoon came, I called to them, as the sun sank, I called to them as the boy had who had taken the first man who had looked at me. Nothing worked. As night came yet again, I began to realize that the Goddess had spurned me! Horrible! Other boys had been here for several days, one for over a month, but those were ugly boys, one very obese and the other pocked badly with facial marks and oversized ears, and I wasn't ugly, I wasn't! I couldn't be!
I remembered with agony my thoughts of disrespect to the Goddess. She had heard and she had turned her back on me!
My father came the next morning and all I could do was try to hide my face and my tears as I shook my head in the circle once more. My father, this time, did not leave at once, but instead went to speak with one of the priests of the Temple, and then he left. This was odd, as my father was banned from entering the Temple until I had been chosen by one of the men and led inside myself. He would have no reason to speak to the man, who was in charge of leading the men and boys to the rooms they would use.
My father returned that afternoon. He was wearing his best clothes, and behaved as unlike the simple farmer that he was as he could be. The priest from the morning came up to him and my father tossed him the gift of the visitor as casually as if the gift wouldn't take every coin he had saved for so long. Then he came among the boys to take his choice, just as if I weren't there.
I lowered my eyes at this. To have my father select another boy in front of me would be the ultimate in degradation, my father taking another boy back to the rooms and there to enjoy his favors under the blessing of the Goddess as I, miserable me, waited outside still for someone, anyone, to select me. I decided that the next man who came near, I would beg him to take me, plead as piteously as I could.
A shadow fell across my cloth and I raised my eyes to beg. My father was there. "Greetings." my father said to me.
"Greetings." I said.
I saw his lips form the word and I amended my words to the proper form. "Greetings, visitor."
He had given me the word of a man who was choosing a boy. My eyes widened, and his lips urged me to speak on.
I dared it. "Won't you choose me and take me with you into the Temple?" I asked, my lower lip trembling.
"Indeed I shall." And my father extended his hand.
I took it in wonder. And gratitude. My father, seeing me having to linger in the Temple, had come to take me himself in to the Goddess' sanctum.
The priest guided us to a room. Inside was a bed like the one my parents had, and unlike it. It was wider, with thicker padding, and the finest of coverings adorned it. My father led me over to this bed and sat down upon it, myself standing before him. This put our faces closer to each other, for normally my eyes, if only looking straight ahead, could not see above his waist.
Trembling, I stepped into my father's arms, and this time, instead of merely touching me, the arms enfolded about me and they drew me to him and our chests touched and my heart pounded against his breast, and my father's lips reached to mine and he gave me the kiss of acceptance.
I felt such a shivering in my bones when he did this that I nearly lost control of my bladder, I wanted this kiss to go on and on. And it did, my father's kiss was slow, lingering and his hands touched me, stroked upon me, brought my skin to life.
I gingerly reached my own hands to his ribs and I dared to touch my father. Always before, always, he had touched me, I had never dreamed of running my hand over his skin, that skin that gleamed and begged me to touch it, I hadn't dared...until now.
My father threw his head back and groaned as my fingers stroked over his ribs, onto his back. "Ah, son, my son." he gasped.
"Father." I said to him, and the single word was an entire prayer for me. A prayer of gratitude.
His hands, those hands I had dreamed of every night for as long as I could remember, they came down and touched my wrap, pulled it away from my body, and I was naked before my father. When his fingers reached for my badge of maleness, I could only groan with the delight, the pleasure, the sheer rhapsody of the feeling that permeated my entire being in one lightning instant as he drew his fingers up and down the length of my shaft.
"Ah, ah, father!" I sighed.
And I dared to reach for his wrap, I pulled it loose so that it lay upon either side of him, and in the middle of him that this revealed there was the tower of his manhood! So firm, so large, so beautifully capped with his glans that peered from within the mantle of his foreskin wrinkled around its base. And looking into my father's eyes, I drew the courage to reach and take his cock in my own turn, the hot column nearly singed my fingers with its heat, and I clutched and I tugged upwards at it as he had done for me.
"Oh, my son, my son!" my father sighed and I reached to kiss him again, and when I did, he drew me onto the bed with him, his strong body lifted me bodily up with his own as he turned to rest entirely upon the bed, and me with him, riding atop him, the way you would ride a boat upon the waters of the ocean that I'd never seen but was in all the stories I'd been told about the fires at night.
"My beloved." I said as the ritual prescribed. "I know nothing of what I need to know to be a man. Teach me, my beloved, how to love and how to be loved, as befits those who love the Goddess of the Sky."
"I shall." my father said to me. "I shall teach you well."
And here the ritual as I had learned it was done. From now on, my father must guide me in what was to be done.
And he did, and with his instructions, given in the clear, simple terms of a farmer and the son of a farmer such as he was and I would be, I kissed my way over his body, pleasing him in so many ways. My lips touched and my tongue teased the nubs of his nipples, and my hands danced over the ridges of his abs as I lowered myself on the bed, traveling downwards to his pillar of maleness.
I reached the base of it at last, and more words from my father, these given in more terse, halting words, for my father's pleasure was causing his prick to stream a clear fluid that reached down to where I was now resting my lips, my tongue caught this elixir and I found it salty, sharp, and so, so delightfully like my father. He would teach and I would learn.
"Yes, now, my son, kiss your way up to the top." my father instructed. "As you go, glean from my shaft the fluid I have spilled, for it is the essence of life from which you were created. Drink of it, my son, and revitalize yourself with life's nectar."
I did as he told me, licking and sucking my way up his prodigal shaft, it was the length of two-thirds the space from my fingertips to my elbow in size, and when I crested the peak and closed upon the central fountain of his life fluid, my father moaned. "Yes, my son, my son, drink of my life, feast upon myself. Now you must wring more of the fluid from me, and you do this by closing your mouth over the top of my rod and onto my foreskin, with it held in your lips, you will draw it up and down my shaft and this will give me the greatest of pleasure, and it will cause my fluid, which is born from my pleasure, to seep out to reward you."
I did as I was bade, and my father's moans were repeated with every stroke I took. "Ah, my son, now move the faster." he said when my efforts began to fail to win more of his body's essences. "You must use your mouth's waters to grease your movements so that you may take me the deeper, and when you can take more than half of it within your mouth and your throat, then you can stop and I will show you somewhat more of what is to be done."
With this promise, I plied myself to my father's dong, my lips sucked on his prod with a worshipful adoration that I did not need to feign as I had feared I would, for this was my father, the one I had wanted to touch, to be touched by, for so very long, and now, now, my father was mine to touch as I would.
As I moved upon him, I felt him mumbling in almost wordless sounds, and then I felt the touch of his finger to my buttocks which were close beside him. His hands moved my legs further apart and then I felt the finger at my buttocks, which he had covered with his own saliva, probing at my anus.
I had to groan as the thick digit wormed itself into me, my own delight in pleasing my father now was added to by my pleasure at the feel of his finger at this most intimate of places on my body, the skin there was so sensitive and unused to touch from any source, myself included, that the skin screamed in delight as he tickled at my sphincter, and the tip of his finger found its way in and it cleaved the way for the rest of his finger to enter.
I was manfully working my way further down his prick, I now had nearly a quarter of it slick with my spit and humming powerfully from the lust building within it as I worked it back and forth, on and on. My lips were tiring, but I persevered, for this was the first time, the most special time, and I wanted it to be perfect for my beloved in every way, perfect for my father who had always been the perfect man for me.
And his finger wormed inside me, and then he withdrew it, only to send it back inside, this time with its neighbor alongside, and I had two of his fingers twisting into me, my body was begging for more, more, let this moment go on forever if that forever meant that there could be more and ever more of this.
"Now, my son." my father said. "Now we will complete the ritual."
It surprised me that he insisted on breaking up our embrace entirely, he then placed me on the bed on my back, and himself above me, his knees between my spread legs, and then he caught my legs and drew them up around his body, and my entire lower half of my body was brought up off the bed, and I clutched my father about his slim waist as he caught me about my body barrel and I felt his greased manhood touch my sphincter which had been stretched and readied by his fingers. I suddenly knew just what the "completion of the ritual" would be.
"I am about to take you." my father said. He would have continued but I spoke.
"I know, father." I said. "Please, take me, let me feel you inside myself, now and forever, you inside of me."
My father groaned at this and his hips swung forward and the strength of his virility held his prong firmly stiff as he drove it into me.
I cried out, partly in pain but mostly in rapturous pleasure, my father now possessed me, I was his, truly his, now, for his very essence was deep within me.
My father was panting now, heavily, huskily, as though every breath was ripped from his lungs. "My son." he gasped. "Let your body get used to this, and I shall continued to move as I have, and as you have done for me so far."
"Then let me move for you now." I groaned and I used my legs about his waist to lift myself up and I swung myself like that, moving my ass back and forth upon his prod.
My father moaned and when I slowed my motions as my muscles, so unused to this movement, could not continue, my father began to thrust himself into me, back and forth, and with it, his dong plowed into me and pulled out to plow itself into me again.
And every motion of his prick built joy within me, I wanted more of this, more, my hands and my legs began to help me move with my father, the two of us moved as one, we would be like this forever, the two of us in one action, the link between us the power of my father's cock!
My father's face was flushed in a way I had never seen before, a redness building up in his face, he was now sweating as he rammed his dick into me harder, faster, more, more, I want more, father, more, more! I mumbled something of this as his groans of pleasure built up higher and higher.
And then he said something that I didn't understand. "Here it comes, son, here it comes!"
I was about to ask what when I got my answer. My father's cock, accompanied by a loud roar of his ecstasy, sprayed a heavy load of his life's juices into my body. Long, hot and stingingly salty, he pumped his sperm into me and I felt in reward the joy of the life in me building up and up, I was more than alive, I was rising to the very levels of the Goddess! Up, up, up! And then I, too, felt the shivering power of my father's joy as it echoed within myself, my own body wracked with the shuddering energy of raw new life surging through the both of us.
And he was done and my father was drained, weak from his life draining from him into me, he slumped down and his weight rested upon me, crushing me beneath him. I could barely breathe, my lips partially buried under his shoulder and my nose jammed under his left ear, but I still never wanted this to end, ever, ever!
But my father's life returned to him, he gathered himself and lifted his body off of me. "Now, my son, you have done your duty to the Goddess." he said to me. "You have honored her by accepting the love of a man for her, and you can return with me in the morning to our home once more."
"Stay a bit longer." I begged my father.
My father denied me this, but with a smile. "If I were to stay, I would want you a second time."
"A second time, yes, and a third, and a fourth." I said, hungrily.
"You must now go on into the Temple and stand before the Goddess." my father reminded me. "I must now go back to our home. But I shall return for you on the morrow and you shall come with me."
I watched my father wearily dress himself and then he walked out the door of the room. But at the end, he turned and looked at me and smiled a smile that was more than of a father toward his son. So very much more.
I made the prayer to the Goddess in her Temple, seeing her for the first time. A large stone woman who holds the entire world in her hands. We were all but her servants, dependent upon her mercy for all things.
I said the prayer and I made the motions. But my heart was only waiting, waiting for morning when my father would come to get me and we would go back to our home, my duty at the Temple done, my life with my father restored.
Comments, Complaints or Suggestions?
Send E-mail to Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM.
NOW ON SALE!
USE THE "CLICK TO LOOK INSIDE"
FOR MORE FREE STUFF!
(The Story You Just Read is Available in the "I Love You, Daddy!" book)