THE VERMONT DOVERS
Chapter Six: Giving Thanksgiving Thanks

John awoke on Thanksgiving morning with a soft sigh. He had dreamed of his brother Peter and his sons and the fun they had shared so many years before. Now his sons were in their latter teens, John Dexter Dover, Jr. or "J.D." as he preferred to be called, had just turned eighteen and Charles (no longer "Chuck") was sixteen (only one year and two months separated their births, the result of their mother refusing to breast-feed the babies; she had gotten pregnant so quickly a second time, then had her "blasted tubes tied." His boys had grown tall and broad and strong and handsome, and he thought of how they looked, then remembered them in their youth, and fought back a tear in his eye. Times change, and a wise man accepts it...but he'd give anything just to return to those days for only a few minutes of time and see those smiling cherubic faces once more! Johnny and Chuck were gone, he now had J.D. and Charles and that had its own merits.

He stirred and his hand came down beside him and slapped a bare buttock not his own.

"Muph?" came the sleepy voice.

"Sorry, Son." John said as he scooted over a little, found himself at the edge of the bed. He hadn't crawled in his sleep, Charles had!

"Whu' time izzit?" Charles blurred out.

"Seven fifteen." John told his son. "Go back to sleep, it's Thanksgiving Day. Unless you want to get up and watch the parade."

"Nu-uh." Charles rolled over, now lying on his stomach and one arm hanging over the edge of the bed they shared. J.D. had stayed out all night again, probably over at Mark's house. He couldn't fault his elder son for finding a lover his own age (Mark was a first-year college boy a year or so older) but it made him feel like another hole in his family's life was turning up. First his wife had died, then his brother Peter so handsome and strong and full of life, gone, now John, Jr. (no, J.D., he had to remember that), would soon be leaving him alone and lost once again. Only the two of them would be left, him and the ever-loyal Chuck, no, Charles, have to remember that....

John was awake, lying there was not going to do him any good. He turned onto his side, and started to get up and felt a hand catch his shoulder.

"Where are you going?" Charles asked. "To the bathroom?"

"First, yes, then I thought I'd have some coffee." John said to the hand, all he could see of his son.

"Bathroom before and coffee after." his son amended. "You know what comes in between."

John had to snicker a bit at that. Charles knew darned well he couldn't resist his sons' approaches, no matter how busy or tired or worn out he felt. "All right. You need in there first?"

"Nah, I was in there an hour ago." Charles said. "You take care of numbers one and two and I'll lube up for you. I feel like a game of ride-‘em-cowboy this morning."

"All right." John got out of bed and nearly ran to the bathroom. He did have to go...but the thought of his son's ass wrapping his cock was going to make it tough to take care of business if he didn't hurry.

He did his toiletry then capped it with a washing by the bidet and a quick anal douche and brought the tube of lubricant out of the bathroom. His son might want to top him and he was going to be ready to take him up on the offer. Charles was developing into quite the horndog stud. Takes after his father that way....

He regarded himself in the mirror. Pushing fifty (and don't ask him from which side) he had developed a gray set of sideburns and some minor streaks of grey in his hair. His beard, he kept carefully, for most of his gray hairs lived there and when it grew out he looked ridiculous!

He came out to find his son on the already-made bed (they'd do their thing on top of the covers) kneeling while naked with tassled blond hair as pale and clear as sunlight and daisies, and his body gleaming in the early morning sun just barely tipping the horizon now. Cool morning on a Vermont day, the world a white and green shade of paradise, everything looking clean as when the world was new, a panorama of nature before his wide bedroom window; Charles had pulled open the curtains and blinds.

"Ready now, Dad?" Charles asked.

"Can't you guess?" John replied, for his cock had taken the sight of the teenager waiting for a fuck and was jumping up and down like an eager puppy toward his dinner plate.

"So get over here and let me saddle you up." Charles put on his cowboy hat that he'd had since he was young, the elastic band stretched to his chin and held it in place.

"Okay, but if you pull out a saddle, I'm bucking you off on your ass." John joked. He got into the bed and stretched out languidly his hands behind his head and his legs slightly apart. Charles straddled him (he loved this position because "I can watch my daddy's face when he comes" and he squat down with a practiced motion. John was unsurprised to find the single motion was right on target, his son performed his "cowboy" game about once a week.

The sweet young teen-aged ass slipped over his cock like a well-worn glove and for about the same reason. He had fucked this boy at least twice a week (more like four or five was the norm) since the boy had been pre-pubescent and he only got better with his years and experience.

Charles wriggled his ass just the right way as he slid down to make John's cock sing with happiness at their reunion. Thank you, oh, thank you, it was singing and that was appropriate on a Thanksgiving morning. Give thanks for this, his son, his own kith and kin, who loved him so much that he would slide his father's cock into his ass and give it the most possible pleasure he could envision, yes, life was good, even with both his wife gone and Peter (oh, the horrible automobile accident Peter had been in, he shuddered to think of it), Peter was gone, and now J.D. likely about to embark on a life of his own....

Charles sank down onto the base of it and he said, "Okay, horsey, giddy-up!"

John knew his cue, he began to thrust his hips upwards and his body was still agile enough to give his son a few hard thrusts upwards, then he faltered and the boy began to take over, slowly, not letting the tempo drop, until John was flat on the bed and the boy was a bouncing jumping-jack toy, the harlequin on a stick that would bounce up and down with its arms and legs as you shook it with the bells jingly jauntily.

The boy was insatiable and indefatigable, he rode his father's love-rod with an energy that wrung the joy from John's every nerve and the man writhed under his son as if he were in agony but the motions were of pleasure and the boy's lusty lunges only drove him on higher and higher.

Again his body set in fatigue, he was getting on in years of course, and he lay still and moaned in his ecstasy as the boy cried out in his rapture at the hard hung horse-cock his father bore captive in his ass and warming up to the apex of delight. "Oh, oh, Daddy, ride-‘em, Daddy, ride-‘em!"

John knew his cue and in this moment of joyous life racing through his veins, it didn't feel the least bit silly. He whinnied like the raunchiest stallion in the corral at mounting his mare, "Ne-e-e-e-i-i-i-g-g-h-h!"

"Yeah, come on, Silver, we're riding for the sunset!" Charles crowed. "Yippee, yahoo, yahooey!"

"Ne-e-e-e-i-i-gh!" John cried out again, but his ecstasy cut the whinnying sound shorter than bore. "Ne-e-i-igh! Neigh, neigh, neigh!"

The bed was crying out, too, the springs creaking and squeaking in their bouncing rhythm, and the sound carried into the two's senses and became a part of their lovemaking and their croaks and groans and moans fell into synch with the squeaks and squeals of the bed, until it was a symphony of lustful cries and creaks that would have made Bach turn green with envy for it spoke of love, and life and lust, all endless and immortal!

"Oh, oh, Daddy, I'm coming, I'm coming!" Chuck the Champion Cowboy (as he had styled himself in his childhood) yelped. "I'm coming now, now!"

"Do it, Son, come on, spray that hot teen jizz all over Daddy's chest and stomach!" John cried out in his turn. "Make your daddy come, baby, make me come, oh, oh, oh!"

"Coming, Dad, ah-hah-ah-ahh-ahhh-ahhh!" Charles came like only the young teenager can, plenty of fluid but a thinner pearl color, the sperm were still increasing in their numbers in his testicles and the body rationed them more jealously, as he grew older it would grow even more thick and filled with sperm, J.D.'s had already attained that, it was a thick white color and the vitality of that jizz was enough to reinvigorate his father when he gulped it down hot off the stiff lusty rod of his son. That had been a while, though, J.D. now had Mark....

Charles' spooge cut off that line of thought, as it always did, the spunk hit John's chest between his breasts and he felt his own climax rear up and whinny like the wild stallion he was supposed to be playing for his son!

"Oh, ahh, ahh, AHHHH!" he cried as his son continued to pelt him with hot teen jizz.

"Oh, oh, daddy, daddy, I love you!' cried out Charles.

"I love you too, Chuck!" John moaned. "Charles. Chuck. Charles!" John moaned and he lifted again his son by his hips as the hot spooge of his now-tamed cock sprayed the hot ass of its cowboy rider with the lavish load his father still commanded. He pumped the hot wads and some of it dribbled back down his shaft and Charles moaned and layd down on his father's chest, the spunk he had sprayed stuck to its progenitor and he grunted and more of John's jizz dribbled out onto the man's testicles and he moaned and reached for his father's lips.

John felt a powerful paternal rush of emotion and he gripped the boy's body tightly. "Oh, baby, just for a moment." he pleaded shamelessly. "Be my little boy again, be young again, let me hold you and just pretend, just for a moment, baby, I love you so much, let me pretend!"

"Daddy." Charles whispered.

A throat cleared and they looked up, startled. Their housekeeper (an elderly woman named Dianne) wasn't due until early afternoon, they had hours to themselves still). The figure in their doorway was familiar, though.

"J.D.!" cried out Charles.

"Johnny!" called John and then amended. "J.D., I mean. Good to see you."

"I didn't mean to interrupt you." J.D. said, his face was dark and it caused the brown-haired boy (his hair was even darker than John) to seem like he disapproved of everything in life including his father and brother. "I'll come back later."

"No, no, Son, we're just finished." John said, pushing his younger son off of him. That caused the spooge Charles had shot to shine with the morning sun.

"God, you're both a mess!" J.D. sneered. "Clean yourselves up and come down for breakfast. I'm going to my room."

"What's up his ass?" Charles said, then he smirked at his father. "Or not up it."

"Easy." John advised. "Something's bothering him and he hoped to talk to me in quiet and found us all sweaty and stained with spooge."

"Mine and yours."

"My guess is he is having a problem with his boyfriend." John judged. "Best is to go downstairs and act as if nothing were wrong. He'll talk when he's ready. If he's still in a funk when dinnertime comes, I'll approach him for a talk."

"Fine." Charles said. "Well, he was right about one thing. I'm covered with spooge and so are you. Shall we shower or do you want to lick it off?"

John smiled. "I'd love to lick it off, but we need to be there for J.D. right now. Let's shower and get down to breakfast. He may be ready to talk right off."

Charles' cell phone chimed and he picked it up. "Ooh. Dad, I have to go. Raincheck on the spooge-lick?"

"Wipe yourself down first before you go." John said. And to his son running out of the room, "And grab something to eat first." he called out.

John judged his son needed some time so he took his shower and shave leisurely. It was over twenty minutes before he got downstairs.

J.D. had fixed them a full breakfast. Eggs, bacon, toast, jam, and orange juice. It looked like Charles had blown past after grabbing some bacon and toast (the plates contents were awry) and J.D. was sitting with a bare plate steaming.

"Sorry, Son." John took his seat. "I didn't know you were making breakfast."

"It's okay." J.D. said. They took their portions and ate in silence. John cleared his throat when he was done eating and his son was finished and waiting and was about to talk when J.D. interjected.

"Dad? Was I a bastard?"

John looked startled. "No."

"I was born eight months after you married mom." J.D. pointed out. "Was I that premature."

John sighed. "No, Son, your mother was about six weeks' pregnant when we married. But I had already proposed to her and we were planning the wedding when we, uh, made you."

"I guess that counts." J.D. said. "Did you love Mom?"

"Very much." John said. "If she hadn't died, I might not...."

"Might not have started coming to bed with us?"

John just nodded. "I look at you and Charles and I see your Mother. I see everyone I've ever loved in my life, all bundled up in you and your brother. I see you two and I feel...immortal."

"Hah!" J.D. barked his opinion. He stood up as his father started to speak again, putting his fingers to his lips, Shhhhh! John subsided, waited.

J.D. stood and carefully took off his boots, then his socks, one at a time, in pure silence. John waited, and J.D. stood and pulled off his shirt and then his belt. His pants undid his buttons on his fly and revealed the jockstrap beneath.

"Is there a problem with Mark?" John ventured.

J.D. clouded up. "Fuck him! And that bitch Sheila he's always hanging with. Fuck both of them!"

It was a problem with his lover. "It helps to talk about it." John offered.

"I have a better idea." J.D. was nude now, a young just-adult youth with a hard throbbing cock and a powerful well-muscled body, he looked like a Greek god come to Earth to dally with a mortal prince or two. He walked to his father with a few quick strides and poked his cock at his father's face. "Suck me."

"Son?"

"Suck my cock, Dad. Suck it." He jabbed the dick, dripping with precome, at his father's face and it slathered its load of clear sticky liquid on John's left cheek.

"Easy, Son, easy!" John caught the cock and took it into his mouth. J.D. promptly grabbed his father's head and began to fuck at it hard. John bore up under it and J.D. growled and snarled and was rough as he could be. John let his son do it, knowing the anger would burn itself out, knowing the gentle soul beneath this anger wouldn't let it persist. He concentrated on keeping up the pressure and grip on the hard shaft through all of it.

"Coming, now, Dad, coming. Drink it all down, all of it!" J.D. ordered and he climaxed and John was assailed with a thick load of hot teenager jizz. At the age of eighteen, J.D. was at the height of his sexual potency and his load proved it, John was pumped so full of jizz he couldn't drink it fast enough and he coughed, snorted and his son's spooge flew out his nostrils and around the sides of the cock. J.D. snarled and let his father go and panted hard, and John sat there still with come dribbling out of his nose and his face red with his mishandling.

"Like that?" J.D. demanded. "Was that good, Daddy?"

"Son, we need to talk...."

"I don't want to talk. Fuck me now, Dad." J.D. ordered. "Fuck your little boy." He leaned over the table, shoving the plates aside, the empty plate Charles had left fell to shatter on the floor. John made no attempt to prevent it.

"Fuck me, old man. Fuck me hard enough to let me forget."

"Forget what?" John undid his pants and pushed them down with his briefs to permit his cock to peer out between his shirttails at his son.

"Nothing! Fuck me!" J.D. commanded.

John had the stove nearby and the oil in the skillet from the bacon. He reached into it gingerly, the oil was warm but not hot. He scooped up as much as he could with one hand and slathered it over his cock.

"Now, old man, shove it in now and fuck me hard." J.D. ordered.

John did push his cock into his son, but gently. J.D. snarled and shoved his body back and that drove the rod into his ass pell-mell. "Ahhh-ahhh-ahhh!" J.D. grunted. "That's better, now fuck me, Dad. Fuck me so hard I forget all about that bastard Mark and that bitch Sheila. Make me forget Dad, make me forget."

Time for gentleness was over, J.D. needed this. John was no psychologist but he knew a cue when he heard one. He grabbed his son's hips and began to ram his son's ass with all the energy and vigor he could muster.

"Oh, ahh-ahh-ahhh-ahh!" J.D. grunted as his father ass-rammed him roughly enough to make the plates and spoons rattle, forks fell to the floor and knives bounced around like batons in a parade.

"Harder, Dad, harder!" J.D. ordered. "You can be rougher than that, Dad. Really give it to me, give it to me!"

John ramped it up as hard as he could. His hips were slapping his son's buttocks loudly and the whole room was a cacophony of falling plates, rattling silverware, squeaking wood of the table and the groans of his son as he continued to beg for more, more, more!

John lustily fucked his son for about fifteen minutes, his round with his younger son kept him at bay and the boy under him climaxed and even in orgasm he demanded more and more, harder and harder, don't you dare stop!

John gave it all he could but his cock finally squirted his package of hot spunk into his son and he ran out of energy entirely at the end of it, held to his son's back and panted hard as his son groaned underneath him. The body shook and it took a while to realize his son was crying.

He grabbed the boy and lifted him upright and got to his chair and sat down and put his son in his lap as if he were a third of his current age. "All right, Son, enough of this. What's wrong? What did Mark and Sheila do to you?"

"Oh, Dad, Dad, I fucked up so bad!" J.D. wailed.

"Baby, Johnny, my son, talk to me. Let me help you."

"I was...I was...I was spurgled."

"Spurgled?" it took John a while to get the reference. "You mean, Sheila...."

"And Mark. I thought he loved me and all that he and Sheila wanted was for a chance to get her knocked up with my son. They plan to get at your money, Dad, demand support for the child and that'll let them live in California. Damn them, I fell for it!"

John wormed the story out of him. Mark had approached J.D. and courted him, Mark was older and dazzled his son with stories of the movie industry and the stars he had met. Then he had taken the teenager back to his apartment he "shared with my best friend Sheila" and they had made love.

"Mark had insisted on using a condom." J.D. explained. "He would take it off my cock when we were done and tie it off and put it in a box. Then he and I would go to the living room on some pretext or other, every time. I should have realized something was up.

"Sheila was hiding in her room, she'd come in through the bathroom door that connects the two bedrooms, and she'd pick up the condom and" the boy imitated a squeezing motion, "right into her hooch. Apparently she is now about six weeks pregnant and they let me know I was the father.

"Dad, I don't want to be a father! I offered to help her get an abortion but she stated she was keeping the baby and Mark said I could pay plenty of child support and I looked at them and knew I'd been played for a fool. Dad, Dad, what am I going to do?"

John held him and rocked him a little and let the teenaged new father be a child a little while. He thought how different this was from when he'd held Charles but just like when a child had skinned his knee and came running in for aid and comfort, mostly the latter.

"We'll take this one step at a time." John said. "I'll call an attorney and a doctor. We'll want to see the child gets good medical care while she carries him and then when he is born, we'll get their DNA tested. If it is your child...."

"What?"

"Sheila and Mark probably won't be fit parents." John went on. "A life scraping by in California? We'll let them get settled then put a private detective on them. A little dirt and we take them to court and sue for full custody. You'll have the entire family fortune behind you, Son, and we'll fight as dirty as we have to, to get that child if it's yours away from them."

"But how will I do it?" J.D. went on. "I can't be a dad yet!"

"Housekeepers and nannies and any other help you need to make sure the baby is taken care of while you pursue your education. You'll be a part of his or her life all the way and take over fully about the time he's old enough to really know who is who. We can do it, Son. We will."

J.D. hugged his father and hugged him hard and relaxed for the first time since he'd shown up in the doorway of the bedroom. John escorted his son up to the bedroom and put him to bed. The boy needed sleep. It was still only eight forty-five in the morning.

J.D. had a lot of time here. Dianne would be here about one thirty and start their turkey and they'd have a full family dinner around six o'clock. J.D. would have that long to recompose himself and realize that all problems have solutions, you just have to take it one bit at a time.

He went to his walk-in closet and picked out clothes to replace the wrinkled and sweat-stained ones he had on. He spent the day with Charles watching first the parade and then the football game. J.D. came down about half-time and joined in as if there was nothing new in his life at all.

Dianne was fixing their dinner and the house was filled with all the delicious smells of Thanksgiving dinner. Only one thing left to complete the family set.

There was a ring at the door. John sat with J.D. while Charles ran to answer it. His voice of glee was all they needed to hear. "Uncle Peter! You made it!"

"In the flesh." Uncle Peter said. He was now a burly adult ski instructor and worked in the Colorado Rockies, but had come in for the holiday after working the day before. He had to return tomorrow, but today was good. The limp he'd had for so long after the accident was now only barely noticeable, you had to know it was there to see it. And he skied as well as he ever did.

John hugged his brother and J.D. did as well and their family was complete as they sat down to the dinner. The turkey was in front of him, Uncle Peter at the other end, and one of his sons at each side. Dianne was offered a plate but declined, she'd already had dinner with her own family at midday.

John cleared his throat and said, "Let us pray. Heavenly Father, we give thanks for this family, those of us who are here, those who have gone and those who will come. We are one family, one heart, one life, and for that we thank you...."

Outside it was snowing again. Just another beautiful day in November in Vermont. And their dinner of Thanksgiving was begun with four thankful hearts around the table.

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