Fatherly Feelings

Many thanks to those wonderful people who left a review! I have tried to do my best with this chapter for you, but I'm afraid that I simply cannot write small children in a believable way.


Ten.Two

Arthur was fully long and hard within two rapid heartbeats. His breath came short. Stars danced before his vision.

For a second, he was baffled, and then he remembered Thomas and Padraig and oh, sweet little Coel, and his father’s letter.

Arthur’s arms around his son tightened. His breath caught on a moan. He was experiencing them again, the feelings he had felt for his little protégés at school! But now, he was a real father, and he was feeling them for his own little son! Arthur thought his heart would burst with happiness.

But why was he feeling this only now? He had been a father for over five years! A father of two for over two years, and would soon be the father of three. What had stopped these feelings? Had he sought his satisfaction with Molly too often, so that there had been nothing left for his sons? Arthur felt guilty. He was a bad father. He had neglected his sons for meaningless satisfaction with his wife.

Bill twisted again on his lap. The little arse rubbed over his cock in just the perfect way that made Arthur groan and his hips thrust forward instinctively. And as he did, images flashed through his mind, fleeting memories of times he had bounced Bill on his lap or bathed his sons’ little bodies. He recalled how his cock had stirred and lengthened then. He also recalled that he had always repressed the feelings until he could satisfy them with Molly.

He shook his head. He was a bad father.

‘Daddy?’

Arthur opened his eyes to look at his son. Bill was watching him with a somewhat worried expression.

‘Daddy? You look funny.’ Bill wriggled, trying to turn to get a better look at his father’s face. Arthur gasped at the new friction.

‘Ouch, Daddy, you got somefing hard in your pocket! It poked me!’ Bill eyed the general part of Arthur’s lower body.

Arthur smiled weakly. ‘Not in my pocket, son,’ he said huskily.

‘You sound odd, Daddy,’ remarked Bill, but was more interested in the thing that had poked him. ‘Is dat your wand, Daddy?’

Before Arthur could answer, Bill’s small, chubby hands were patting his pockets in search of the curiosity. Arthur sucked in a breath, and then almost shouted when Bill touched his cock. A small drop of liquid seeped into his pants.

‘Oh, Daddy, what is dat? It’s hard! Is dat wood?’ The boy kept fingering this thing, trying to find out what it was.

Arthur bit his lip. One of his hands slid down to Bill’s butt of its own will and began fondling the boyish cheeks.

‘No, Billy,’ he said. He took a deep breath to stop his voice from shaking. ‘Not wood. It’s me, part of me.’

Bill looked up, eyes wide with curiosity.

‘What is it? Why is it hard? Is it always there?’

Arthur raised his other hand to caress Bill’s red hair.

‘Yes, always. And it’s hard for you because I love you.’

‘But what is it, Daddy?’

Arthur fingered Bill’s crack through the boy’s trousers.

‘That’s my cock,’ he said carefully.

Bill giggled. ‘Cock? Like a chicken?

Arthur’s smile was a bit strained. His hips kept moving in little, uncontrollable thrusts.

‘No, Billy, not like a chicken. It’s part of the man’s body. You’ve got one too, but it is small now. When you get older, it grows and gets hard when you really love someone. Like my cock got hard just now.’

Bill listened with rapt attention. ‘Don’t it hurt when de cock is hard, Daddy?’

Arthur shifted minutely so that his aching length pressed up into Bill’s hands. He sighed at the contact. ‘No, it doesn’t hurt. It feels good, very very good.’ He paused and ruffled his son’s hair. ‘And when you pat it,’ he added huskily, ‘it makes daddy happy.’

‘Pat it?’ Bill cocked his head.

‘Yes, like you’ve been doing before. Pat it, and stroke it.’

Bill seemed to ponder the words, then stroked the hard length with both hands. Arthur groaned deep with pleasure.

‘Daddy?’

‘Yes, Billy, like this. Go on, please.’

‘You sound odd, Daddy.’

Arthur smiled reassuringly. ‘It’s all right, Billy. It feels so good when you do that.’

‘Good?’

‘Yes, very – oh! Wonderful, Billy!’

Bill had obviously decided that the strange noises his father made were actually a good sign, and had applied himself to his new task. He stroked both hands up and down with vigour. Arthur’s hips began to move in time with the strokes, and his eyes fell close. Even through the layers of robes and pants, the feeling of his son’s hands on him was glorious!

‘Oh, Daddy! Your cock twitched!’ Bill giggled.

Arthur smiled and licked his lips. ‘Hmm, it’s happy. I’m happy. Make me very happy, Billy, and keep stroking, yes?’

‘Yes, Daddy.’

Arthur groaned with pleasure. He had now both hands on Bill’s arse. The cheeks were small like apples and seemed to vanish in his hands. He squeezed them gently. Bill giggled and wriggled a little. Arthur grunted and thrust his hips up, seeking more friction.

‘Keep stroking, Billy,’ he groaned. ‘Yes, yes, oh. Oh! Good! Billy—!’

And with a deep groan Arthur shot his load into his pants. Bill’s still stroking hands prolonged the feeling of bliss until it became almost painful. With a gasp, he stilled his son’s ministrations.

‘That’s—that’s enough, Billy.’

Bill looked up questioningly. ‘Did I do something wrong, Daddy?’

Arthur lifted a slightly trembling hand and caressed his son’s cheeks. ‘No, no, you did splendid, Billy. But, see here—’ and he pushed up his hips again into Billy’s hands, ‘—I’m not hard anymore. Can you feel it?’

Bill wrinkled his nose. ‘Yes. You’re wet, Daddy. Why are you wet? Did you pee?’

Arthur wondered for a moment how he should describe what had happened to the little boy. ‘Well, no’ he began finally, ‘I didn’t pee. I’m wet because my cock spurted. That happens when a cock is hard and someone strokes it. It feels really good, and when the feeling can’t get any better, the cock spurts. It’s called peak.’

‘Peak is good?’

‘Very good, Billy.’

‘Okay.’

Arthur laughed and kissed the tip of his son’s nose. Bill giggled, and then looked down at the wet spot on Arthur’s robes, obviously still fascinated with the topic. Arthur felt the warmth of satisfaction change into tender warmth. None of his protégés had shown such an interest. But, of course, Bill was his son, so it was only natural.

‘Daddy?’ The childish voice called for attention. ‘What does a cock spurt, Daddy? Is it peepee?’

‘No, sweetie, it’s called spunk.’

‘Spunk?’ Bill repeated, testing the new word. Hearing his little son use the word so innocently sent an excited shiver down Arthur’s spine and into his flaccid cock. It gave an interested twitch, but was too spent to do more.

‘What’s it look like, Daddy?’ Billy wriggled again, eyes bright with curiosity. ‘Spunk, what’s its colour?’

Astonished by his son’s interest, Arthur took a while to answer. Bill bounced impatiently. ‘Uh, sweetie, careful.’ Arthur wrapped one arm around Bill’s hip to stop him from wriggling. The motion made the cloth of his pants rub over his still sensitive prick.

‘What’s its colour?’ Bill repeated.

‘It’s white and looks a bit like milk.’

Bill nodded, peering down. ‘Can I see it? Please?’

The question reminded Arthur of the uncomfortable wetness in his pants, and he fumbled his wand out of his pocket for a cleaning charm.

‘Daddy?’

‘Hush, Billy, not now.’

Bill stuck out his lower lip and pouted. ‘But I wanna see your cock spurt spunk. Can I pat you again?’

Arthur’s cock twitched again and he had to swallow against the dryness in his throat.

‘Not now,’ he managed to say. ‘My cock is tired and needs some rest.’ At Bill’s disappointed face, he smiled.

‘Another time,’ he said, and then bent down and kissed Bill, gently, on his small, pink mouth.

*