The Benefits of Being Homeless

By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM

Gordon laughed as the water played over his body, I grinned and turned the hose and soaked his hair some more, and he giggled and worked his fingers through the sandy-colored locks, scrubbing out the last of the foamy soap. This was a weekly ritual for him and me, a Sunday afternoon behind the steel factory. It was closed today, but the showers in back (with a hose as part of them which I was using on my son) were available and the water flowed, warm and plentiful, for it was used by the men to wash themselves free of the grime and sweat of the day.

It worked for me and Gordon just fine.

Gordon was buck naked, I was less comfortable in my skin (this place wasn't totally deserted, a person could see us from an overpass not far away and I'd seen cars up there, stopped, for the view there was a beautiful scene indeed, the industrial district below and beyond it, the homes of the rich and beyond them the skyscrapers of the city), so I wore sweatpants and sweatshirt meant for a guy much fatter than I was, it let me wash myself underneath unfettered and kept my naked bohunkus out of the sight of the gawkers. It got wet, of course, but I would change out of it and into clean clothes when we were done.

And with Gordon thoroughly rinsed by the hose, we were done. I plied the towel (a big one, usually used by people to lie on when at the beach) over my body under the sweats, then dried my son, then used the rest of the towel's drying ability to squeeze some of the wetness out of the sweats I was wearing. Time to go back to our shopping cart and pull out some clean clothes and Gordon and I walked over to where we had stashed it for safekeeping while we bathed, hidden beneath some cardboard boxes.

Gordon and I were homeless, but we weren't filthy, we looked like a normal father and son. I worked here and there pretty regularly, plenty of businesses were happy to pay me a few bucks to clean out their storeroom or empty their trashcans, and I put the money into a bank account I had kept from the days when Gordon and I had lived in an apartment and I'd had a wife and he'd had a mother.

She'd fallen sick, and died after a rather expensive regimen of medical expenses, and the hospital costs had driven Gordon and me onto the street. He'd been four at the time and now that he was six, he and I had the lifestyle figured out. It even had some benefits. I could spend a lot of time with my son, and when he started school next fall, I would be able to work even more, we could get a new apartment about the same time next year. Which had been my plan all along, you see, our being homeless was temporary and another year would...

"The cart!" Gordon yelped. "Dad, our cart is gone!"

"I see that, Son." I said, a bit helplessly. A problem with homelessness is how to hold onto what you do get. Some people will steal even from us, taking our few pitiful possessions for themselves. The cart had held our clothes, a few items we needed like our toothbrushes and some laundry detergent, Gordon's toys and a few mementos I'd saved from my marriage. Just our lives, the part that separated us from animals, sitting in that cart and now the cart was gone.

We now owned only our bare skins, my sweatclothes and the beach towel Gordon was now wrapped up in. And my wallet, which I kept in the sweatpants pocket in a plastic Baggie (I kept it buried under other clothes in the cart when we were out on the street, and with me when we would leave the cart unattended), which held my money and my ID and my ATM card.

This was disastrous, but not impossibly so. We could get more clothes at the Seventh Street Mission, and they'd have some toys for Gordon. As for the toothbrushes and such, I had some money in the bank I could tap for that, but even then, the Mission probably could help a lot with that. All we had to do was...get there.

Oh, God! The Seventh Street Mission was all the way downtown, in the city center, the one you could see in the distance from that overpass! And I had a naked son in a soggy towel and me barefoot in a soggy sweatsuit. No other choice, we'd have to get on a bus like that and ride until we got to the Seventh Street Mission. Gordon and I trod up to the overpass and the bus stop. We'd have to ride that bus a good forty-five to fifty minutes to get to the Mission. I kept up a cheerful chatter about all the new clothes we'd get and the new toys they'd have for Gordon and we made a happy pair as we boarded the bus. I paid the fare while Gordon raced to the back of the bus and found us seats there, a sideways pair that would work for both of us. I walked back more sedately, pretending I wasn't walking barefooted with now-filthy feet as I did now, hoping nobody would notice. If they did, nobody said anything, bus riders are like that.

It was a warm day, I won't deny that, but the driver had the air conditioner running full-blast and we were wet and sitting in seats right under where most of the air conditioning's icy-cold air was pouring down nonstop. In no time, both of us were shivering cold. Complaints about that don't do any good, the drivers respond about how it keeps germs down and how when the bus gets crowded, it'll keep us from sweating and stinking up the place, and it was a hot day anyhow. All you could do was endure it or move your seat, and this was the place we could sit together.

So I shivered and Gordon shivered and he snuggled up to me and I was warmer on the side where he was. "Want to get up in Daddy's lap?" I asked him. He grinned at me with those angelic blue eyes and moved over. I pulled the beach towel out and wrapped it around both of us. The extra layer of cloth felt good. "That's better." I said.

"I'm still cold, Daddy." Gordon said. Well, he only had the towel, I had the towel and the sweats to warm me.

"Let's see what we can do about that. Sit straddle of me." I told him and as he did, straddling my lap facing me, I lifted the sweatshirt up and over his head.

The beach towel fell to the floor and an old lady sitting across from me (she should have been sitting in the front of the bus in handicapped sitting, but the bus was filling up pretty heavily now) bent over and handed it to me as my son's head poked out of the top next to mine. "Heavens, your son is naked." she told me.

"We got robbed." I explained. "We're riding to the Seventh Street Mission to get more clothes."

"Daddy and I are homeless." Gordon said proudly. "Aren't we, Daddy?"

"Yep." I said. "But it lets me spend all day with you, doesn't it?" I tapped his nose with my finger and he giggled, and I spread the towel over to cover both of us. "Are you feeling warmer now, Son?"

"Yes." Gordon said. "But my legs are still cold."

"Oh." I said. "I don't know what to do about that."

"I do." Gordon moved quickly, rising to his feet (that stretched the sweatshirt neck a lot, good thing there was plenty of room in it) and he got hold of my sweatpants waistband.

"What are you doing, Son?" I asked.

"Getting in with you, Daddy." Gordon explained. "Then I'll be nice and warm."

"But...but...." I couldn't argue with his logic. "All right, Son." I said. "But hurry up, and sit back down."

Gordon got his legs inside and knelt again, sitting on my lap and I hitched at the pants until I got them up over his buttocks and to his waist height. Both of us now were inside two sets of clothing, a towel and a sweatsuit, and we were both well insulated from the air conditioning roaring around us with frigid efficiency. And we were both naked together under the clothes and towel, touching each other's bodies without so much as a jockstrap in between us. Gordon snuggled up against my body, head just below my neck, his thin hairless chest against my midriff, his legs on either side of me. And his tiny little prick rested in their ballsac right on top of my cockshaft where it joined my pubic region. I could feel his testicles, twin marbles inside a soft fleshy sac, resting on my own hairier, fatter, fuller balls. Gordon felt it, too, and he wriggled, giggled. "It tickles." he said as he squirmed. "Your hair tickles." he told me.

I could tell by the way Gordon moved he was talking about my pubic hairs, which are pretty thick, but the old lady thought Gordon was talking about my chest hair. "You'll have some of them soon for yourself." she mock-chided my son. "You shouldn't complain about them."

"I'm not." Gordon told her. "They feel kind of nice." His little dickie was stiff, I felt it poking me as he squirmed on me. "Really nice. I like it." His own motions of his soft baby-skin was like satin sliding over my flesh wielded by the highest-price hooker you ever watched moving on the movie-theater screen. Soft, smooth, warm and sleek as velvet.

"It does feel nice." I agreed.

"That's so sweet." the old lady babbled on. "I love to see a man loving his children. So nice to see how close you are." Other people were looking at us, as much as bus riders ever really look at each other. We were an odd pair, a father and son pressed together face-to-face in a pair of seats, a beach towel covering us from neck to toes. But like most bus riders do in any situation, none of them said a word.

Gordon squirmed more. I began to realize that he was doing it on purpose. His little dick was poking at my stomach when he thrust forward, and that caused his tiny balls to roll over the top of my shaft. God, it was like someone was rubbing a sex toy over my prick to get it to stiffen up! And of course, Old Faithful was rising to the occasion, with no regard to the fact this was my son who was doing the rubbing. My glans moistened, a dribble of precome smeared itself on my glans, the wet cockhead dabbed its wetness on Gordon's soft stomach, I felt it rubbing stickily over his tender boy-flesh.

Gordon felt it too. He put moist lips to my ear and whispered, "I think you'd like to play a while, Daddy."

"Not here, Son!" I gasped softly. "Not now!"

His little hands pulled my prick up so that it was stuffed between our bodies and he pushed his groin against it, again his balls snuggled against my shaft and slid across my shaft when he pushed upwards like small fingers gripping my prick. More of my precome gushed out and began to run down my shaft, and onto Gordon's soft boy-dickie. "Why not, Daddy?"

"Because people are watching." I told him. I wasn't telling him to stop, I didn't even realize that at the time. It never came to mind to just say the word "no."

"They can't see nothing." Gordon was used to this hiding-in-public, a homeless person learns the knack, as long as people can't see enough of what you're doing to know you're doing it, you might as well be completely out of sight, nobody pays any more attention to a homeless person than they have to.

"I know but...." I stopped because I had to catch my breath and what came out next was a hiss of raw pleasure. Gordon was rubbing up against me, small motions that barely stirred the towel over us, there among the watching passengers (who weren't watching us closely, except for that old lady who thought we were just a loving father and son, Gordon rubbed his little dick and balls up over my shaft and when he moved down, his balls rubbed over my own testicles' tops and all of it felt so good, like the competent massages of an expert therapist rolling their experienced hands over the muscles of my body, Gordon's baby-balls rolled over my testicles, leaving a path of relaxed and happy flesh in its path, the tension of my manhood from the pressure of clothing and walking and life and stress leaving, to be replaced by the simpler, cleaner, unfettered sensations of delight and desire.

"Feels good, Daddy." Gordon whispered to me. "Doesn't it?"

"Yes, Son." I admitted as he wriggled on my lap. "Feels real good."

"I like it, too." he said shyly. "Can I keep doing it?"

"Uh, uh.... All right." I sighed. Okay, I should have said no. But I didn't. I hadn't had sex since before my wife had died, not counting an occasional jerk-off in a public toilet stall or such when the need grew too strong. I had my son to consider, and being homeless leaves you in public or semi-public view twenty-three and a half hours out of twenty-four. That other half hour is when you're taking a dump. It was the only time I had. Until now. I had my son, whom I loved, rubbing my cock with his and I loved it. Like I loved my son.

"I love you, Gordon." I told him loud enough for others to hear.

"I love you, too, Daddy." Gordon murmured.

"I love you so much, baby." I said. "You're my entire world. Just you and me."

"Yes, Daddy." Gordon sighed. His lips reached up for mine and we kissed.

Not a quick smooch, not a peck, his lips and mine meshed and we kissed slowly while Gordon's body slid over mine. My hands slid over and on his back, the cloth of my sweatshirt impeding me, but Gordon groaned and own hands stroked my ribcage and curled over and around them onto my back and he hugged his body to mine and he began to rub at me in earnest. His little breaths were hissing in my left ear as he had his right cheek on my shoulder, his nose nuzzling under my left ear, the air he breathed in and out were like spider webs of warm delight on my bare shoulder.

"Oh, Son, oh!" I sighed softly into his ear right at my mouth. "Good, baby, so good."

"Yeah, Daddy, yeah, oooh!" Gordon groaned.

I felt my precome drizzling down my shaft, I could feel the change in Gordon's dick, it had gotten on him, too. More gushed out of me with each thrust upwards of Gordon's body on mine, one slide upwards of his little tiny-boy dick against my manly shaft and more sticky fluid dripped downwards. I felt it in my pubic hair, felt it on Gordon's balls, the stickiness became a part of our heat, of our motions, of our desire. His little marble-balls rolled on my pubic nest, moist orbs in my moist patch, globes of heat on my ball sac, rolling over the twin bumps of the tops of my balls every time his little body came down, rolling up again to rise back to slide upon the shaft once more, like tiny twin kisses after a tongue-twisting torment of meshed mouths of lust. I moaned again as Gordon groaned, two voices of male lust, one in bass, one in tenor.

"Last time I heard sounds like that, I was banging my baby." came a bass voice with that fullness that tells you without thinking that it's a black man's voice. I looked over with passion-glazed eyes to see a young black man in his mid-twenties, watching us with a bit too much understanding. He'd picked up what the old lady had missed.

Was still missing. "Now, that's not nice." she told the man. "Talking like that with a child present."

"I'm just saying." the man insisted. "Them two are groaning to each other. Can't you hear it?"

"That's just sad, you thinking a man can't love his son without it turning into something perverted." the lady told him, a gentle mentor chiding a protege. "He's just snuggling up to his father, and anything else is just how this bus is bouncing us all up and down."

I realized then that was what had happened, Gordon had put his cock on mine, the bus had bounced him up and down and he'd discovered how good it felt. He was moving now, but the bus motions hid his motions in the towel over us. The man may suspect, or he was just making sounds and idle musings.

"I wasn't saying nothing." the man protested. "I just said it sounds like that."

"Well, it isn't so, so watch your language about children."

"Yeah, watch your language." I said, and closed my eyes. I nuzzled my son and under the guise of that, said to him, "I'm about to come, Son. I'm getting close."

"Me, too, Daddy." Gordon assured me, and his panting turned into grunts.

"Such a good boy, such a good little boy." I told him louder and the old lady beamed. I looked right at her as my cock began to ignite.

"I love you, Daddy!" Gordon moaned in my ear, but loud enough for her to hear.

"I love you, too, Son." I tried to whisper, but it, too, came out loud enough for the bus riders to hear.

I stifled my moans better when I ejaculated, and Gordon grunted as my jizz squirted all over his young, writhing form. Orgasm was exploding in my brain and I looked at the old lady smiling at me, smiling, the black man looking at us, too, others less so but staring our way, and in the midst of it all, I was bathing my son's body in my jizz, hot squibs of the sperm that had given him birth now soaking and dripping down his body onto his stubby little cock and my thick, velvet-coated, larger cock, gluing them together, over his raspberry-sized boy-balls and my plum-sized man-balls, the spooge lubricating their slide over and across each other, back and forth, around and waround, warm, so warm.

Gordon grunted, groaned, his grunts were alarmingly loud. "Oh, oh, oh, oh!" he gasped, and as he began to moan, the bus hit a rough patch of road, and the bus bumped around like a bucking bronco. My son clung to my body, his small hands on my back, his arms around my ribs, his chest against my stomach, I felt him shaking and shuddering all out of tune to the vibrations of the bus, all of that while my own orgasm flowed through me like a river of lava cutting new paths as it bounced back and forth and all around, shaking me under my shaking son on this shaking bus, on the pavement of a city built on an earthquake fault, in a life that was built on straw, so much so that a simple theft could strip us of all but the clothes held in our hands at the time and no more.

The old lady was shaken and she held onto the back of the bus seat next to her for dear life. "Oh, oh, oh!" she gasped as well, though in alarm not in passion.

My son's groans stopped and the bus stopped a bit after.

"My word, that was a big one!" the old lady said.

"Really shook you all up." the black man agreed, eyeing us. "Them, too."

"Yeah." Gordon giggled. "I'm all shook up."

"So why are you panting?" the black man asked me suspiciously.

"Gordon bouncing on me." I gasped. "Knocked the wind out of me."

"You see, it was all innocent enough." the old lady told the black man. "All that bouncing around can just knock it all out of a person. I'm all winded myself from it. You have a dirty mind."

"It's a dirty world." the black man said but we had reached his stop and he got up hurriedly and left.

"I'm glad he's gone." the old lady said. "Now we can just relax and enjoy the ride, while you love on your son."

"Fine with me." I said. Gordon and I nuzzled and kissed the rest of that ride, we kissed and I shifted our heads around so that I could block their views and stuffed my tongue into his mouth. Gordon just snickered and did the same to me, and we sucked on each other's tongues. Soft, slow, warm, post-sexual loving between a man and his son. I was almost sorry when we had to get off.

I pulled Gordon out of my sweatpants and managed to keep the towel up around him and me and with him still inside my sweatshirt and his legs around my waist, nuzzling up to my bare chest, we got off the bus and walked into the Seventh Street Mission.

The people at the Mission were kind and understanding and took us to their supply of surplus clothing in the thrift store they ran, and gave us vouchers to re-outfit ourselves. Gordon and I picked clothes and shoes and socks and such and got dressed in a room they gave us, then we went looking for more clothes to fill a new shopping cart. We'd have to liberate one from a store somewhere, tricky with the sensors they now have, but I knew how to short out the lock and get the front wheels rolling again.

When done, we still had a fair value left, and I turned our attention to the bedding they also had. Gordon was quick to go to a large sleeping bag they had. "Let's get this, Daddy!" he said.

"That'll take the last of our vouchers." I pointed out.

"You can get two individual bedrolls for less than that." the person helping us said. "Wouldn't you rather have a bed of your own?"

"No way!" Gordon said emphatically. "From now on, I'm sleeping with Daddy!"

"He's nervous about the theft." I said quickly. "We'll take the big one."

The person almost shrugged, but refrained and put the bedroll on the cart we were using, a large thing made of two platforms, useless for homeless people. Things would roll off of it and it was unwieldly. People stole from the thrift store, too, but they'd leave this alone.

Our new possessions in a pair of garbage bags, we set out. "We'll have to hit the ATM and draw some money." I said. "We'll need toothpaste and brushes and such. Then we'll go to the shelter for a few nights. Okay with you?"

"Nu-uh." Gordon said. "I want to sleep with you." The shelter had a separate room for children and adults. With guardians to make sure they slept unmolested and unharmed. It's a tough world.

"Okay." I didn't argue. "We can get back to the overpass by nightfall." The same one we'd been on top of to catch the bus, a small homeless community was there.

"Let's find someplace just for us." Gordon insisted. "Somewhere alone."

I smiled and didn't argue. We took until the sun was down, but there was a place behind a small business with nobody around. It would do for one night, anyhow, have to see what we could get.

Luck was with us, a shopping cart was there, maybe used by the store owner for garbage, and we loaded our bags into it. Gordon laid out our sleeping bag meant for two and promptly stripped naked. "Get in, Daddy!" he said as he slid into the sleeping bag.

I looked at him and slowly stripped my own clothes off. Bare-naked as my son, I got into the bedroll.

Even if someone came along and saw us, they wouldn't look very hard. Even if I were to make love to my son inside this bedroll, they wouldn't even notice. Nobody ever looks closely at the homeless, they turn away and leave us alone. In the middle of an alley of a busy city, nobody looks at us. Just a benefit of being homeless.

Gordon let me lie on my back, then crawled on top of me. "You're nice and warm, Daddy." he said.

"You're feeling pretty good to me, too, Son." I agreed.

He squirmed around and his prick began to make itself known, it was a rich, ripe plum on my stomach. The organ caught itself in my navel and Gordon giggled, moved his hips so that it poked at my belly-button. "I got you, Daddy!" he stated.

"Unh, unh, unh!" I grunted, his stabs were working my stomach and diaphragm so that every jab he made expelled air out of my lungs. "You got me a little too good there, son!" I caught the back of his neck and pulled his face down to mine and we kissed again open-mouthed, our tongues playing with each other, sliding past each other to invade each other's mouths, swirling around each other like a pair of mating snakes.

Gordon let go of me to slide down and his head slid under the bedroll's covers as he matched our cocks together. I felt his balls slip down my shaft (erect but lying on my stomach by then) and I felt the warm swathe of silken ballsac massaging my dong, followed by the hard rod of Gordon's little boy-dick and I groaned in the velvet feel of that young shaft. Gordon moaned himself, and he began to move on me, his young body making a writhing wormlike motion that swirled his prong over mine, twirled the balls over my dong, Gordon grunting and gasping to a point that I became nervous. I mean, nobody looks at us, but that kind of groaning is unmistakable and people may not like to look at homeless, but everyone wants a peep at people making love.

We were alone, I wasn't frantic, but I was alert and it inhibited my own delight, even as Gordon gave full sway to his, I stayed in a state of pleasure tempered by caution. My son rubbed me as he looked into my face, his eyes shining in the dim light, his face softened by his delight.

"I love you, Gordon." I told him. "You're such a sweet boy, such a good, sweet, loving boy. Daddy loves his baby."

"I love you, too, Daddy." Gordon gasped. "Oh, oh, I love you, Daddy, oh, oh, I love you, love, luh-uh-uh, UH-GUHHHHH-HUHHHHHHHHH!"

He cried out loud enough to make anyone look at us and I again looked around, but this was the middle of an alley between two businesses closed at night, we were alright. Our only danger was that someone would come, thinking my son was injured. But nobody showed up, nobody had heard, we were alone.

"Oh, oh, Daddy!" Gordon gasped as he panted on my chest, his little body rising and falling from my own breaths filling my lungs. "I love you, Daddy!"

"I love you, too, baby." I assured him as he squirmed back up out of the covers and found my face, and we kissed again, this time I was the one doing all the work, for Gordon was still exhausted from his sexual labors.

Gordon caught his breath and rested his head on my chest and sighed, "I love you, too, Daddy."

"I love you more." I teased him.

"No, I love you more!" he was game.

"No, I love you more!"

"No, me!"

"No, me!"



"Yeah." Gordon ended our little game of one-up-manship. "That was so good."

"Yeah." I said but I think the slight tone in my voice gave me away, for Gordon stirred.

"But you didn't come, did you, Daddy?"

"No, son," I agreed, "but it's all right. I'm in no hurry."

Gordon's hand grabbed my stiff pud and he said, "Yes, you are."

I felt that warm hand on my tool and he moved it back and forth and I sighed, "Yeah, I guess I am."

Gordon crawled back into the bedroll and he got around my feet in a sort of cat-like curl and his hand began to pump on my rod. I groaned at the warm feeling, then I felt a soft touch along one side of the shaft, like he'd pressed his cheek to it. "Ooh, that felt nice." I said quickly as he moved his cheek (I think) back and forth over it. "Is that your face, Son? Are you rubbing your face on my cock?"

"Uh-huh." Gordon moved and I felt the small hard knob of his chin, then the other cheek. "It's all soft and sort of spongy."

"Yeah, it is." I agreed as he rubbed his other cheek on me.

Gordon's nose touched the tip of my glans. "Smells kind of funny, too."

"I know."

Gordon's nose got some of my precome on it, I felt it lift off my glans, and Gordon must have licked it off. "Mmmph." he said. "Tastes funny, too."

"That's my precome." I said. "When I squirt, it tastes like that, only there's a lot more of it, of course."

Gordon's tongue licked at my glans and I gasped, groaned in surprise. "Oooh!"

"It tastes funny, but it's good." Gordon informed me. "Did you like that, Daddy?"

"Yeah, ooh, oh, yeah!" I moaned. "Daddy likes it a lot when you lick his cock."

"Okay." Gordon began to lap my cock like a dog licks an ice cream cone (if you let it, or don't guard it carefully). Big, happy laps of a tongue that bathed my cockhead and shaft in soft warm saliva.

"Oh, oh, baby, baby!" I gasped. "Suck it for Daddy, baby, suck it for Daddy."

Gordon's mouth sank over my cock and I moaned appreciatively and then in pain, for he began to literally suck, like my dick was a gigantic straw! "Ooh, oh, oh, ow, not like that!"


"It's not your fault, son, I should have explained." I then gave my attentive son the difference between sucking to drink something and sucking to work a man's cock with pleasure, he began and I corrected him a few more times.

Now Gordon was sucking his Daddy's dick in the way I loved it best! God, even a woman couldn't be doing what I was feeling now! Maybe it was the fact it was my son sucking me, the little lips belonging to the one person I cared about more than myself. Maybe a bit of feeling like he was always a part of me, one that had sprouted from my loins and now was returning to me there. Maybe just that it was Gordon, my son, blood of my blood and heart of my heart, and our hearts beat as one and always had. Okay, maybe I'm getting a bit too lyrical here, but that was how I felt, not just the sexual pulsing that beat in my brain, but an emotional component that washed it and made it all purer than the driven snow, purer than...ah, to hell with it!

"Yeah, that's the way, suck me, baby, suck your Daddy's cock." I moaned instead. "Such a good baby, Daddy loves his baby, especially when Baby is sucking Daddy's dick!"

I couldn't see him sucking me, just the bump in the bedroll that bobbed up and down, like a globe that was riding my prick and making it hum a happy tune! I reached my hands down so I could feel my boy's soft, small body, his little busy head, his soft, round shoulders, the skin all new and fresh and young and full of joy.

"That's the way, baby, milk my love-monkey!" I said, and that gave Gordon the giggles for a while. Moaning, I coaxed him back to working my dong, I was close. "Yeah, baby, suck it like that, I'm close, so close, going to give you a nice, thick load of that stuff you were licking off a while ago, going to drown you with it, and you'll get it hot off my cock, milk me, Son, milk it all out of me, oh, God, now, faster, Baby, I'm coming now, coming, I love you, Baby, I'm coming, CUH-UH-AH-AH-AGGGGGAHHHHHH!"

I pumped a load into my son's mouth as heavy as promised. Braced by my warning, he was able to hold on and catch it as it squirted, I don't think he lost a single drip of my juice as it exploded out of me, his throat made "gulping" sounds as he swallowed my jizz, and I finished, woozy and light-headed as I fell back onto the bedroll, a limp strand of man-noodle, my chest heaving hard.

"Oh, oh, oh!" I gasped as my son crawled up and beamed down into my sex-drained face.

"Did I do it right, Daddy?" he asked.

"You did it fucking perfect." I assured him. "I love my little cocksucking son very, very much."

"I love sucking your peter, too, Daddy." Gordon said.

"Well, from now on, you can suck it anytime we bed down for the night." I assured him. "Now, the two of us need to get some sleep, we'll want to clear out of here before any early delivery trucks come in and run us over."

We got up and were waiting back at the Seventh Street Mission to stand in line for breakfast. A good thing, too, for while we were eating, one of the staff came over to us. "Mr. Grady?" It was Mr. Horn, he was the one of their administrators and advisors.

"Yes." I said, a forkful of scrambled eggs halfway to my mouth.

"When you and your son are done eating, can you come over to Room 118? I have some good news for you." He said it softly, he didn't want the other people at the mission to overhear us. I agreed and he moved off again, as if he hadn't said anything. It must be big, then, and something special. The people at the Seventh Street Mission were nice about that, he wasn't talking about preaching at us, he had a line on something for us, and didn't have enough of it to go around to everyone. He had picked us, probably because we'd suffered such a loss the day before.

We got to the room and he explained. A nameless benefactor, a small dedicated trust, and so on, it all boiled down to this...they had an apartment for us. "It's contingent with you getting a steady job within six months." he told me. "But I know you, you don't drink and are diligent at your job, it's been your son keeping you on the streets."

"I've been saving up for a place." I said.

"I know and that's also the reason I picked you. One year's free rent on a one-bedroom apartment, fully furnished and with utilities included, then you have to move out. You'll have that long to get on your feet and supporting yourself and your son."

"That'll be plenty." I said, relief and joy filling my voice. "I'll be able to get a job and with Gordon in school, we'll have plenty to move out by that time."

"Very good." Mr. Horn said. "We'll have some papers to fill out...."

I'll spare you the rest of that, except to say that they acted fast, Gordon and I were in the apartment before nightfall and while the sofa would convert into a bed, there was no question where he was sleeping.

I walked out of the bathroom feeling fully human for the first time in I don't know how long, freshly showered and cleaner than I'd been in, well, I don't know how long. Gordon had been in the shower before me and he was busily bouncing on the bed, our bed, the mattress squeaking but not too loudly, for this was a new mattress and new furniture and for us, a new life.

In more ways than one, I crawling into the bed without bothering to pull back the bedcovers and stretched out and my eager, squeaky-clean son was quick to straddle my stomach and lay down for a big, wet, sticky kiss with lots of tongue-play. "I love you, Daddy." he said when he came up for air.

"I love you, too, Son." I said as I wetted one of my fingers with my spit, and when Gordon leaned down again, tongue sticking out, my own stayed in my mouth. Instead, I reached over, my palm finding the firm little right buttock and my three lesser fingers crawled over it while my wet index finger stayed aloof, until we got to the nest between and the fingers felt out the sphincter of his ass. When found, they pulled away and my index finger went in for the kill.

Gordon oofed when I probed at his butthole, then my index finger slid into it and he grunted again. "Ooh, Daddy, that feels weird." he told me.

"It'll feel better in a minute, Baby." I assured him. "I've been waiting for this moment all day long. This is going to take a while, though, so why don't you get to rubbing that little dick of yours on my fat whanger? Come if you want, but Daddy's saving himself for the main attraction."

Gordon complied and his tiny dickie was busily humming over my long dong, but he was puzzled and while he ground and swirled and twisted and humped and bumped, he and I both kind of waited. Meanwhile, my finger kept probing my son's ass, pressing carefully inwards, stretching as I went, trying to keep the discomfort to a minimum.

When I reached for the jar of Vaseline with my left hand as my right hand pulled away from my son's butt, Gordon watched, and as I opened the jar, he asked, "What are you doing, Daddy?"

"Got to stretch your butthole out as wide as I can." I told him. "Two fingers now. Get ready for it."

I got them in, though Gordon grunted and winced as I did, the brave little fellow didn't yell out loud once. I got them inside him after a time and commenced again to wriggling the fingers and stretching him wider.

"Why are you doing this, Daddy?" he asked after a while.

"It's so I can stick my cock up your ass." I told him. "After that, you'll see what happens. Just trust your Daddy, I'm not going to hurt you any more than I have to. It'll make Daddy feel real good to do that, and you're going to enjoy it, too, I promise."

"Okay, Daddy." Gordon said trustfully. I took his little wiener in my left hand and twiddled it as I twiddled my fingers in his ass, and he seemed to enjoy it, and kissed me and we kissed as I kept my hands busy on my son, probing him and pleasuring him. He even had a little-boy dry climax after about a half hour of it, about the time I was thinking of adding a third finger. He grunted, shuddered, moaned and convulsed and it knocked my hand out of his ass. I used the opportunity to grease up all three of my larger fingers and made them into a triangle. "Only a little bit more to go, Son." I said as I showed him the trio of digits all slippery with Vaseline. "Once you can take this, we'll try you on my dick."

Gordon looked up, mouth still open and panting a little. "Okay, Daddy. Go ahead. I'm ready."

"That's my stout little trooper." I praised him and aimed for his ass. There was less resistance than before, I think the little fellow had figured out how to relax his ass muscles. I stuck the fingers in and moved them around, but he only grunted and every sound was of pleasure instead of pain. I gave him five minutes anyhow, then said, "Okay, Son, let's do it for real." I took the Vaseline jar and began to grease up my pud. It was aching from the long wait, so long, so very long! But Gordon was now ready. I hoped.

I laid him down on the bed on his back and crawled on top of him. "This time, I'm on top." I explained. "Wrap your legs around my hips and go ahead and hold onto my arms with your hands if you want to."

Gordon complied and he quivered as I pressed my glans up against his asshole. "Here it comes, Son, get ready. It's no bigger than the three fingers were." That wasn't strictly true, but I'd greased myself with most of the jar's contents, it shouldn't be a problem.

I pushed into him slowly and Gordon's eyes went wide and his mouth opened in surprise as I shoved into him, but then his eyes and mouth closed and he crooned. "Ooh, oooh, Daddy, ooooooh!"

"You like that, Son?" I asked him, my cockhead just inside of him.

"Yeah, oh, yeah, Daddy, more, do it, more, Daddy, more!"

"Like this?" I asked and I pushed in my cock to about half its length. As I did, I felt the tiny bump of his prostate being brushed by my glans.

"Ooooooooh!" Gordon moaned again. "Ooh, ooh, OOOOOOOOOOH!"

"You see, Son, you like it, too, don't you." I said. "You're making your Daddy feel good and you feel good, too."

"Oh, yeah, Daddy, yeah!" Gordon moaned. "What is this, Daddy, what do you call it?"

"It's called fucking, Son." I said. "And I'm about to start doing it for real."

I began to move my hips back and forth, not trying for more depth beyond making sure that his little prostate got rubbed with each thrust into him and again when I pulled out.

Gordon moaned and begged me, "More, Daddy, more, do it more, more, I want it, do it more, Daddy, more!"

I sped up my thrusts and soon I was butt-ramming my boy while he only crowed with his pleasure and howled for more. I mean howled. "OH, DADDY, YEAH, DADDY, OH, YEAH, FUCK ME, DADDY, FUCK ME HARDER, HARDER, DADDY, OH, OH, OH!"

"Oh, yeah, Son, yeah!" I said a little quieter. "Going to fuck your ass hard, Baby, fuck you all night long!"


"Oh, Baby, yes, oh, oh, Baby, your ass is so hot, oh, God, Daddy's coming now, Baby, Daddy's coming!"


"Ahh, AHH-HAH!"





"Oh, Daddy, oh, Daddy, oh!"

"Son, oh, Son, I love you, Baby, I love you!"

"I love you, too, Daddy!"

"Such a good boy!"

"Such a good Daddy!" Gordon grinned, and I had to laugh.

"Yeah, Daddy's good, isn't he?" I said instead.

"Yeah, especially when you're fucking my ass." Gordon agreed. "Do it again, Daddy."

My cock was still in his ass. "Again?"

"Yeah, Daddy, again. Do me all night long like you said."

My cock took that as an incentive to rise up and stiffen all over again, even while jizz still clung to the glans tip. "All night long? Right now?"

"Yeah, Daddy, right now!"

I made an exploratory thrust or two. Yeah, I was ready to go again.

I fucked my son slowly and his arms were around me and his face was staring up into mine in tender love as I plugged his sweet small ass, a gaze of trust and affection that I returned in full measure. His arms constricted on me, the face screwed itself up into an agony of delight, and his small body shuddered in my embrace, I rode that childquake out and kept on fucking him slow and sweet, slow and sweet. Nearly a half hour later, my own climax stirred and I moaned, my need rising in me, and Gordon felt my desire and his own body rose in its own ecstasy as I shook with my own manquake and squirted another warm load into his warm ass, and our sweat and our pleasure melded into one where I couldn't tell if I was feeling my own climax or my son's.

We rested again and when I felt my son again clasp my prong, I moaned in a mixture of pleasure and agony. "Ohhh, ahhh, Son, please. I need a little more time before I can do it again."

"It's okay, Daddy." Gordon assured me. "You feel good just like this." His little hand had my flaccid dong in it and he was right, it felt pretty damned good just like this.

"What's it like?" He asked after a time.

"What's what like?"

"Fucking my ass." Gordon clarified. "You like doing it, don't you?"

"I sure do." I said with exaggerated emphasis and he giggled.

"So what's it like?"

"Well, Son." I considered. "I'm not sure I can explain it. You kind of have to do it for yourself."

"Yeah." Gordon paused. "So can I?"

"Can you what?"

"Can I fuck you, Daddy?"

I was surprised. "Do you think you can do it?" I said. "I mean, you're my son and I love you, but you're kind of...small. I'm not sure it would work."

"Can I try?"


"Please, Daddy? Please?"

I had to laugh. "Okay, Son, you can try." I said. "Let's get you some lubrication so you can shove it inside. If you can."

Gordon let me ply my fingers over his prick until it was all greasy with the Vaseline, then his own hands caught the open jar and scooped up most of what was left. "I know what to do next!" he stated. "This goes up your bum!"

"Yeah." I agreed. "That goes up my bum." I rolled over and got my body up onto my knees, my head on the pillow, which exposed to my son's ministrations my slim-assed, hairy-cracked ass. "There it is, get a good look at it, Son."

When those greasy fingers probed my sphincter, I was surprised how damned good it felt. His little hand soon was completely inside of me, and I was being fist-fucked by Gordon. My ass just opened up and let him slide it all inside and all I did was moan and beg for more.

"I think you're ready, Daddy." Gordon told me.

"Oh, ahh, yeahhh, come on, Son, fuck your Daddy's big hairy ass!" I moaned. "God, yes, fuck me, Son, fuck me!"

I felt his hard little dingle squirp into me and I groaned anew. He didn't have size or length, but it still felt good, knowing my boy's hard little dick was thrust up inside of me. Gordon began to move his hips back and forth and his prick tickled the sensitive skin of my sphincter which sent waves of pleasure straight through my groin where it hitched a ride on my nerves that fed into my pleasure center. This is why a man likes being fucked, the prostate plays a big role when it's a man, but even a small boy's dick can stimulate those nerves in the region of your anus, which are all far more talented than you'd expect. It's as expert as your fingertips in sorting out every nuance of every touch in every way, and Gordon's thrusts were igniting them in a storm of sexual pleasure I'd never had before.

"Oh, yeah, Son, that's nice, nice!" I mumbled into the pillow. "Fuck your Daddy's ass, boy, fuck me good, fuck me hard, Son, hard and fast, you're not going to break anything, really ram my

ass good!"

"Yeah, Daddy, oh, oh!" Gordon fucked me faster, his little body did everything an adult could do when humping your ass, if in miniature, a half-sized ass-fucker, my boy was fucking his dad and making small groans of joy as he did.

So soon (ah, for the unfettered pleasures of youth!), Gordon moaned and cried out, "Oh, oh, Daddy, I'm coming, I'm coming!"

"Yeah, Son, do it, do it, come in my ass, come in my ass!" Gordon couldn't squirt much of anything, I knew, but he tried his most valiant, humping me and howling as he shuddered in his climax, and when he did, my own body shook me with my own orgasm, my cock untouched, my joy unleashed only by the thrusts of my son's tiny piddle into my ass.

Done, we sank together onto the bed once more. "Oh, Daddy, you're right, that is good!" Gordon said.

"It sure as shit is." I agreed. "We got to do that more from now on."

"Yeah." Gordon giggled. His hand reached and found a tower rather than a pile of mush. "You're still hard, Daddy?"

"I am? Yeah, I am." I had to agree. My orgasm experienced had done nothing to my organ, it had remained untapped and the pleasure of being fucked had awakened the beast once more. "Well, we're going to have to do something about that, aren't we, Son?"

"Yeah." Gordon welcomed me into his embrace once more.

I fucked Gordon over and over that night, and I came three more times, Gordon did five more, twice while I was fucking him and joining me in my own climax each time I reached my own crescendo. By that time, his ass was loaded with my jizz and my cock squelched around in there, making sucking sounds every time I pulled out, and squirping sounds every time I plunged in.

I pulled out when dawn's fingers lit the room through the window and I fell back onto the bed. "Oh, God, I need to sleep for a week!" I said.

"I'm hungry, Daddy."

"I am, too, Son."

"We got cereal and milk in the fridge." Gordon said. "And two bowls and two spoons." We had stopped at the supermarket during the move and bought the essentials of food and utensils. I'd made a significant cut into my saved funds but that didn't matter so much anymore. We had a place to live now and I'd get a real job. Gordon could be a latchkey kid, he was a good boy, from the time he finished school and I got home from my job. I had an address now, a real address, and that was a lot about getting a new job, more than you'd think it is.

We ate and Gordon fetched a warm washrag and cleaned off my cock and I then cleaned off his ass. "What do you want to do today, Son?" I asked him. "It's Saturday and you have to register for school next week, you know."

"I know." Gordon said.

"So what do you want to do?" I asked. "Watch television?" I'd also picked up a cheap, small black-and-white television set. "You can watch cartoons."

"Okay, let's watch cartoons." Gordon agreed.

We sat on the couch, both naked and watched TV but the cartoons went off and I turned it to a sports game. Gordon watched, but soon crawled over and grabbed my cock. "Do it again, Daddy." he begged me. "Please."

"Can't I finish watching the game?" I asked.

"Nu-uh." he said and bent over to suck my cock.

I sighed. Being homeless had its benefits...but having a home has a lot more of them!

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