Chapter 1
I've been sitting on this park bench for two hours, enjoying the warm afternoon air, the scent of freshly cut grass, and the soft chirping of birds in the surrounding oak trees. Next to me on the bench is a small digital tape recorder, a device that brought me to the park today and now stirs both excitement and apprehension within me. I know what I have to do and feel a surge of eagerness, but lurking in the back of my mind is the fear that, as soon as I've completed my task, everything I've known and experienced in my life will suddenly be over.
Do I really want to do that?
I look at the small, shiny device for the millionth time. I know I'm procrastinating, trying to postpone the inevitable anxiety about what I'm about to do. I've always been good at procrastination. Deep down, I'm quite lazy. But I also know that if I don't do this, I'll never know my true past—my current past—if I succeed tonight. I'll never know what brought me to this point or why I'm about to fundamentally change my life.
To my left, I notice movement: A squirrel scampers up a tree trunk and stops to explore its surroundings. From the nearby playground, the laughter and shouts of children echo across the meadow. The children have been engaged in their timeless games, while their mothers watch with indifference, exchanging neighborhood gossip.
A young girl, no older than seven or eight, catches my eye as she swings her knees over a horizontal bar and hangs upside down, her pale yellow summer dress falling over her face. Her flat chest and white cotton panties are completely exposed for my viewing pleasure. Her supple, flawless body, with tiny pink nipples hovering beneath her visible cameltoe, is like a beacon, drawing my gaze to a wondrous sight that continues to fascinate countless boys and men.
Not far from her, a boy of about the same age climbs a ladder to a long stainless steel slide. He's wearing only baby blue shorts, which slowly slide down his non-existent hips until half of his cute bottom is revealed. The two plump curves appear whiter than the rest of his body and attract my gaze with lustful interest. Reaching the top, he turns briefly to me, and I catch a glimpse of his bare pubic area before he reaches down and pulls up his shorts.
In front of me, between my bench and the playground, a group of small boys move in unison across the grass, kicking a soccer ball back and forth. Their thin, colorful uniforms cling tightly to their agile, youthful bodies, emphasizing the many shapes and sizes of the contents.
To the right, where the park meets the street, four men in orange vests are repairing a section of the sidewalk that a tree root has pushed up. I glance at their lean lower bodies, clad in tight blue jeans that accentuate their firm, working-class buttocks, and wonder if one of them is wearing women's underwear.
My thoughts drift to a friend who works for the garbage collection service and knows from experience that he wears lacy panties under his rough work clothes. He claims he knows a few others who do the same. The mere thought of seeing their semi-erect penises wrapped in soft lace makes my heart race. I feel an unpleasant tingling in my pants.
Stop hesitating!
I sigh and look back at the recorder, then reluctantly pick it up. It feels warm from being in the sun. I press the "REC" button and bring it to my lips.
I started working at the post office 40 years ago, right after college. I've been married to my wife, June, for 40 years. We married a week after I started. We have three wonderful children: Timothy, Mary, and Matthew. They're all grown up now and have families of their own. We also have five beautiful grandchildren: Tabitha, Kyle, Caleb, Crystal, and Joshua.
But before I talk about my current life, I should tell you about my childhood. After all, it was my childhood that made me the person I am today, and the reason for this drastic step in my life. My parents, Bob and Marilyn, had two children. I was the second. My older sister, Kim, was born within a year of their wedding.
The doctor at the time was concerned about Kim's difficult birth and told my parents they might not be able to have another child. However, fifteen months later, my mother became pregnant again. My birth was even more difficult than my sister's, and my mother nearly died. It was then that my parents decided to take measures to prevent another pregnancy. While this went against their beliefs, it was medically necessary.
Aside from my strict Catholic upbringing, my childhood was fairly normal. With the help of my best friend, Randy Morris, I discovered masturbation at around ten years old and immediately felt comfortable with it. We usually masturbated together at his house. The rest of the time, we spent it in the school bathrooms whenever we could sneak in some time alone. His parents were much more liberal than mine and knew what we were doing, but they didn't care. I think it aroused them.
I loved visiting Randy's house. His mother would strut around in tight, skin-tight shorts and semi-transparent crop tops without a bra, and his father usually wore very short, cut-off jeans, through the left leg opening of which I could see the head of his penis. It seemed like his parents loved putting on a show for us. They were completely different from my parents and gave me endless fantasies while Randy and I masturbated in his bedroom.
I especially loved it when we discovered it felt so much better when we masturbated each other. He also taught me how to French kiss. He said his older sister had shown him one evening when their parents were out for dinner. Eventually, we started giving each other oral sex. That took our sex to a whole new level! Then, one afternoon at his place, we both lost our anal virginity to each other. I think I was fourteen at the time. That was the best year of my young life!
When I was at home, I seemed to be constantly playing with the new toy between my legs. I tried to be discreet about it, but one afternoon when I was twelve, my father caught me in the bathroom. Even though he was quite strict and really should have been angry with me, he simply told me to pull up my shorts and meet him in my bedroom, where he gave me the birds and the bees lecture.
During our conversation, I noticed a bulge in the crotch of his trousers as he lovingly stroked my bare thigh, stumbling through his clumsy descriptions of male and female bodies. Sometimes, while he spoke, his hand unconsciously wandered up my thigh until several of his fingers were under my trousers. Suddenly, he would realize where his hand was, his face would flush, and he would quickly move his hand back down my leg.
All I could think about was what his penis must look like, and I wondered if he masturbated like I did. This thought caused a noticeable bulge in my pants, and when my father noticed it, his eyes widened and his voice became hoarse. He excused himself by saying he needed to use the bathroom, then abruptly stood up and left my bedroom. Before he left, however, I noticed a large bulge and a small wet patch on the front of his pants.
From that day on, I was determined to see my father's penis and finally made a plan. A few days later, when my father came home from work, I heard him close the bathroom door and turn on the shower. I crept down the hallway, tiptoed through his bedroom, and placed my hand on the bathroom doorknob. My heart was racing, and I could feel my penis starting to grow with anticipation.
I slowly turned the doorknob until I could open the door a few inches. The air in the bathroom was stuffy, but I could see my father's fleshy silhouette through the rippled glass of the shower. I stared at the slightly blurred image of his body, with his penis dangling and the dark strand of hair just above it. It seemed he had spent a lot of time washing his penis and testicles, and after a few minutes, he was fully erect.
Then, to my surprise, he began to stroke it; slowly at first, and I heard what sounded like a soft moan as his arm movements became faster and faster. Suddenly, he did something I had never seen before. While stroking his penis, he placed one foot on the shower bench, reached underneath with his other hand, and inserted a finger into his anus! At this, his moans became a little louder and his stroking a little faster.
My eyes were wide open as I took in the scene, and I felt the pressure of my hard little penis against the fabric of my shorts. I reached down and began to rub my bulge. It felt harder than ever. I desperately needed to masturbate. I was about to close the door and go back to my room to take care of myself when I heard my father say something. I turned my ear toward the opening and heard him moan my name!
He said, "Oh, that's it, Gary. Good boy. Fuck Daddy's ass while your beautiful sister sucks my cock. Mmm... You're doing so well, son. Do you like the way Daddy's ass feels? Ohh... that's it, princess. Oh, yes... Make Daddy's cock nice and wet with that pretty mouth so I can put it in your sweet, young pussy. Ahh..."
I almost came in my shorts at that moment. I couldn't believe my dad was dreaming about me fucking him while my sister gave him a blowjob. A few moments later, I heard him groan and saw his hips jerk forward. His hand stayed at the base of his shaft, then started moving again. He leaned forward slightly, braced his other hand against the wall, and groaned loudly. My dad had just come in the shower!
Because of the ribbed glass, I couldn't really see the ejaculation, but I was still incredibly turned on by the whole thing. I quietly closed the door and ran to my room. It wasn't long before I took off my shorts and started masturbating. The stimulation of the last few minutes brought me to a quick climax, and I ejaculated a huge load onto my bedroom carpet. Exhausted and drained, I collapsed onto my bed. Images of my father masturbating in the shower kept flashing through my mind.
At dinner that evening, my father acted completely normal. But why shouldn't he? He didn't know I'd been spying on him. In fact, it was me who had been acting differently ever since I'd learned that he thought about me and my sister when he masturbated. I couldn't look him in the eye and blushed every time he spoke to me. My penis was rock hard throughout the entire meal.
That night I went to bed and masturbated to images of me fucking him while he licked my sister's pussy. My orgasm was intense and my cock never went soft. I jerked off to two more orgasms before going to sleep.
But my father wasn't the only family member I wanted to get to know better. Although my mother dressed very conservatively, she had a slim figure and exuded the sexy appeal of a movie star. She had a very pretty face, framed by shoulder-length blonde hair, deep blue eyes, a pert nose, and full lips that were always painted with red lipstick. She looked like a conservative pin-up girl, if such a thing even existed.
Several times I caught glimpses of her bottom, clad only in a long, white slip and bra, as she walked down the hall from the laundry room to her bedroom. Her bottom swayed gently beneath the thin fabric, and I saw the outline of her conservative panties. I understood why all my friends told me she was "the hottest mom in the neighborhood."
So, similar to my plan to see my father naked, I hatched a plan to spy on my mother. But the shower idea was out of the question. I simply wouldn't have been able to see everything clearly through the privacy screen. I wanted a clear view of all her private parts. The next idea was riskier, but it would give me a better view. I decided to hide in my parents' bedroom closet while my mother took a shower. That way, I could catch a glimpse of her naked body while she got dressed.
The next day, after breakfast, my sister left to visit her best friend, and I went back to my room to read some comics. My father had already left for work, and I was alone in the house with my mother. After a while, I noticed her strolling past my door on her way to her bedroom. Shortly after, I heard the sound of the shower. Not wanting to experience the pain of a hard-on in my shorts again, I quickly took off all my clothes. Within moments, I was hard.
I crept quietly down the hallway into their bedroom and then silently entered the large wardrobe. It was one of those long wardrobes with hinged wooden doors and horizontal louvers for ventilation. It stood opposite my parents' bed and gave me a perfect view of the entire bedroom. I hid behind my father's clothes in the corner so my mother wouldn't see me when she opened the wardrobe to choose her outfit for the day.
About ten minutes later, I heard the shower turn off, and a few minutes after that, I heard the hairdryer. It felt like an eternity until my mother finally came out of the bathroom. The white towel wrapped tightly around her body barely covered her bottom, and I could see her breasts pressing against the fabric, her nipples trying to break through. My gaze drifted down to her smooth, creamy thighs, and I felt my penis stir.
She went over and closed the bedroom door. Then she went to the closet. She opened one of the doors and took out a beige skirt and a white blouse. She placed her clothes on the edge of the bed and then went to her dresser while I quietly turned around to get a better look. She took a few things out of a drawer: a pair of white cotton panties and light brown socks. Then she reached deeper into the drawer and pulled out a long, white, cylindrical object that was flat at one end and rounded and pointed at the other. At first, I wondered what it was, and later learned that it was a dildo.
She walked to the edge of the bed, threw down her panties and socks, then reached for her breast and let go of her towel. My mother was now standing just a few feet away from me, completely naked! I saw her breasts for the first time, and my knees suddenly went weak. Her large areolas were barely darker than her skin and were topped with stiff, pink nipples the size of an eraser. My gaze traveled down her body to the thick, blond bush between her legs.
She spread the towel on the bed and lay down on it. She stretched out and spread her legs slightly, giving me a perfect view of her hairy pussy. It looked wet, and her labia were slightly parted. She slid the dildo up and down between her inner labia and began to moan. My cock was harder than ever, bobbing up and down in time with my heartbeat as I watched my mother rub and pinch her nipples while she played with her pussy.
She paused briefly and twisted the flat end of the dildo, and I heard a buzzing sound. She slid it over her nipples and gasped, then continued sliding it around and inside her pussy, which, I noticed, was getting wetter and wetter, dripping onto the towel beneath her. My mother moaned softly and rocked on the bed, thrusting her hips upward as she inserted the dildo into her wet hole. Her breathing was rapid, and she pulled and pinched her nipples harder. I gripped the shaft of my cock and began to stroke it, desperately trying to calm my heavy breathing and make no noise.
Then I heard my mom whisper softly and croakily. “Oh… that’s it, Kimberly. Yes… oh, that’s it. Lick Mommy’s pussy, girl. Mmm… just like that. Yes… you feel so good to Mommy. Suck on my clit, baby. Oh, yes… close your sweet lips around my hard clit and suck it like a little cock. Ohh… damn! I want to lick your delicious pussy and your ass, my sweet angel.”
I quickly covered my mouth before I gasped audibly. My mom was fantasizing about my sister licking her pussy! I stroked her even faster while my mom continued to whisper, "Oh, damn it, Gary! Suck on Mommy's nipples! Mmm... that feels so good, baby. Do you like the taste of Mommy's nipples? Keep sucking them while you fuck my wet pussy with your nice little cock. Mmm..."
I'd never heard my parents swear, let alone use smut, so hearing my mother say "fuck," "cock," and "cunt" while calling my name was simply too much. I was already on the verge of climax, and when I heard that, my cock spurted all over the inside of the closet door. I put my hand over my mouth again to keep from screaming during the most intense orgasm of my young life. It seemed to last forever, and I had to hold onto the clothes rail to keep from falling to the floor.
My mother's moans and talking grew louder as she writhed wildly on the bed. Her hand thrust the dildo into her cunt faster and faster. Suddenly, she groaned loudly and froze. Her ass sprang off the bed, her hand motionless as she kept the dildo inside her, experiencing her orgasm and all its aftershocks. Her breathing came in gasps, and after about a minute, she slowly lowered her ass back onto the bed and began to relax. One hand still gripped a nipple. She slowly withdrew the dildo from her cunt as her breathing returned to normal.
My mother lay there for at least five minutes with a broad smile, moaning softly now and then, stroking her erect nipples and gently running her fingers through her wet pussy. Then she slowly rolled off the bed, took the towel, and ran it over her crotch a few times to dry herself. She wiped the dildo, went to the drawer, and put it back in its hiding place. For the next few minutes, I watched my mother put on her panties and bra, then the rest of her clothes, while I continued to slowly stroke my cock, which had never gone soft.
After she left the bedroom, I quietly left the closet and went back to my room, where I masturbated again and experienced another body-shaking orgasm. Afterward, I wasn't in the mood for comics, as the images of the past few days flashed through my mind. I simply couldn't believe that my parents had sexual fantasies about their children! It surprised me and aroused me at the same time. Most of all, I wondered if they would ever act on these fantasies. I hoped so and tried everything to support them.
I let them "accidentally" see me naked in my bedroom by leaving the door slightly ajar after showering. I started wearing old shorts and shirts I'd outgrown, which clung to my body, covering every curve and fold like a second skin. From their subtle glances and reactions, I could tell my efforts were working. In the evenings, my father shifted more in his favorite armchair and constantly adjusted the crotch of his pajamas when he thought no one was watching. My mother reacted similarly. She became more restless and covered herself with a blanket more often while watching television. Subtle movements beneath her body told me she was aroused.
However, I didn't focus solely on my parents. I let my sister into our shared bathroom a couple of times after she "forgot" to lock the door. And I know she saw me lying naked on my bed at night after I left my bedroom door slightly ajar. Sometimes, after we'd all gone to bed, I'd put my ear to her door and listen to Kim moan softly as she masturbated.
I did everything I could think of to seduce my family, but none of them took the bait. Sure, there were the occasional "innocent" touches – the accidental brush of a buttock when my father hugged me, the occasional "adjustment" by my mother's hands as I tried on new school clothes – but certainly nothing too obvious.
After all my spying, it seemed my escapades only fueled their incestuous fantasies. My family was simply too afraid to act on their desires any further. But so was I. In hindsight, I should have been more direct. I should have been brave enough to walk into my dad's shower and ask if he needed help washing his penis, or burst naked into her bedroom while Mom was pleasuring herself with a dildo and asked her if she really needed it.
After my sister moved out to go to university, my parents seemed to coddle me. They probably dreaded the day of my inevitable departure, when they would be left alone with their incestuous desires—fantasies they didn't want to share with each other. About two years after I left home for university, they began to drift apart and eventually divorced.
I've kept in touch with my sister Kim over the years. She has two children and is now married for the second time. She lives not far away, and we see each other on holidays and birthdays. But there's a certain awkwardness between us. It's almost as if there's an unfulfilled closeness that we never experienced in our childhood.
A few years after her divorce, my mother remarried. Her new husband was ten years younger than her and behaved very femininely. When I saw them together on holidays, I got the impression that he was very submissive and enjoyed playing that role. One holiday, I accidentally surprised him in the bathroom and was astonished to see him wearing pink bikini bottoms and a matching bra. I apologized profusely, but he wasn't embarrassed at all. He just smiled and told me I looked sexy in those panties.
Her choice of new husband was definitely surprising, and the way she dressed and behaved towards him showed me a side of her I never would have expected. She was a completely different person, the person I think she wanted to be, and I wondered if she had simply decided to let go of her inhibitions.
My father never remarried, but I learned from others that he had both male and female lovers. I didn't see him as often as my mother because he moved around the country and took a job that required a lot of travel. He died 15 years after the divorce. Alcoholism played a major role in his death.
I've often thought: If I had succeeded in promoting sexual freedom within the family, they would have stayed together and fulfilled each other's desires. Perhaps they would have experienced the same with their grandchildren or found other couples with a similar lifestyle. I believe they would have led happier and more fulfilling lives.
I don't blame myself for how things turned out, but the thought keeps nagging at me that maybe – just maybe – I could have prevented it.
I need a short break, so I press the stop button and look around the park. For some, life moves along slowly; for others, it's a faster, uncontrollable journey. As I get older, I can easily understand the latter. I wonder how many of the parents here harbor secret sexual desires for their children, or how many of these children will later long for their parents or siblings. Will any of them give in to these desires and longings?
I assume most people won't do that. Modern society disapproves of such things, and an overzealous legal system punishes those who indulge their incestuous desires, even in a loving, consensual setting. But incest is as old as time itself and permeates our human nature, whether we think about it or not.
So why did I focus so much on changing my past when everything was working against me? Wouldn't that just create a whole host of new problems?
My wandering thoughts create a blurry image of the recorder in my hand. I'm afraid of the consequences of what I'm going to do in a few hours; afraid of something that might not even work. But it has to work. I've seen it with my own eyes, seen it happen right before my eyes, even though all logic tells me it can't be true. I shake the uncertainty from my mind and bring the recorder back to my lips.
I met June Bennett after I moved out of home to go to university, sometime during my sophomore year. I remember seeing her one day in my psychology class. She was sitting two seats to my right, quietly chewing on her pen as she recorded the lecture. She noticed me looking at her and smiled warmly. Her short blond hair hung casually over one of her baby-blue eyes. She brushed it aside, drawing my attention to her pert nose and red lipstick. She reminded me of my mother.
My gaze drifted to her pink, fluffy sweater, where two small, pointed bulges peeked out seductively at the front. I loved girls with small, barely visible breasts, especially those who didn't want to wear a bra. Her bright white shorts skimmed her perfect thighs, and her long, slender legs ended in red-painted toenails that her sandals couldn't conceal. I fell in love with her that day, and soon we were a couple.
I learned that she, like me, came from a strict Catholic family and had no real sexual experience. At least none that she admitted. Up until I met her, my sex life consisted of mutual masturbation sessions and the occasional blowjob with my roommate and a few close friends. I had no serious relationships with women and was still a virgin.
June also claimed to be a virgin, but never told me about her lesbian experiences. Sometimes I caught her staring at cute, young college girls, and sometimes she made casual comments about the size of other girls' breasts. On our third date, we both lost our virginity. I thought it would be a world-changing moment, but the heavens didn't open and the bells didn't ring. Still, it was a memorable occasion for me, and I was on cloud nine for a week with a permanent smile on my face. We were engaged by the middle of our senior year, and three weeks after graduation, I walked her down the aisle.
Although our sex life was alright, June only wanted missionary position sex without the lights on, and she found anal sex "too dirty." She never wanted me to ride her cowgirl style, and blowjobs were rare. God forbid I ejaculate in her mouth! Naturally, our sex life frustrated me somewhat. But some of my friends told me their wives were very similar, so I just accepted it. However, there were many moments when I just wanted to leave the light on, turn her around, and ram my stiff cock into her luscious ass.
If June had any fantasies, I never knew about them. We never talked about them. Mine were quite explicit and often involved small children. I didn't dare tell June about them, for fear she might leave me. In the early years of our marriage, I suppressed them and focused on creating a beautiful home for my wife and the children who came later.
Our first child, Timothy, was born just before our second wedding anniversary. He was the spitting image of me, with June's slender features. Like many parents in this country, we had him circumcised after his birth. I remember the doctor being impressed by the size of his penis and talking about what it would look like when he was older. Tim must have inherited it from June's side of the family, because I wasn't lucky enough to have anything more than an average penis.
Mary arrived fifteen months later and looked just like June. She was sweet as a baby and the complete opposite of Tim, who was loud and wild. Mary was our sweet and shy little angel with large pink nipples and a charmingly swollen vulva. When I saw the children naked, my pulse quickened and the blood rushed to my penis.
When Tim was five and Mary four, some of my darkest fantasies resurfaced one evening while I was bathing my two children. June usually bathed our children, but she was visiting a sick aunt and left me to manage the household for a few days.
After dinner on the first night, I changed into my usual shorts and t-shirt and walked down the hall to Tim's room. I told him to get undressed and then meet me in the bathroom. Then I went into Mary's room to help her undress. Apparently, she didn't need any help, because she was already down to just her panties and smiled at me as she pulled them down her legs. My cock twitched as she turned and bent over to pick up her clothes from the floor. This gave me a wonderful view of the swollen slits of my beautiful little toddler and the little pink starfish. She giggled when she noticed me looking and then ran out the door.
I went into the bathroom and found Mary beside the tub, hopping restlessly on her tiptoes. I ran the water, poured in some bubble bath, and lifted Mary in. Her skin was so soft and cuddly under my hands, and I noticed that as I lifted her, my thumbs rested on her nipples under her armpits. I left them there longer than necessary, gently stroking the hardening nipples, before placing her in the water. She smiled shyly at her dad.
While the tub filled, Mary started playing with some bath toys. Her brother came bounding in with a big smile and immediately hugged me sideways. As I returned his hug, I felt a prick on my bare thigh and looked down to where his stiff little penis lay. I'd seen him naked before, especially after June had bathed him and he'd run giggling through the house before ending up in his room so she could put his pajamas on him. My penis always twitched a little when I saw him running around naked, his hard little penis bouncing wildly. But this was the first time his erection had actually touched me. A sudden surge of arousal coursed through my body.
He stood there with a broad grin, while I unconsciously ran my hand down his back and over his small buttocks. My fingers seemed to have a mind of their own as they slipped into his cleft and stroked his small, wrinkled hole.
"Dad, that tickles," said Tim, wriggling and rubbing his erection back and forth against my thigh. "Can I take a bath now?"
I snapped myself out of my perverse thoughts and slipped my hands under his armpits. His hard little cock came within inches of my face as I lifted him over the edge of the tub and lowered him into the water, facing his sister. At that moment, I felt the crotch of my shorts tighten. It seemed my son wasn't the only one with an erection.
I grabbed the baby soap and started washing his torso while he sat there, playing with the lather and talking about the latest episode of his favorite cartoon. The pain in my pants seemed to intensify as I caressed his soft, silky skin. I spent a lot of time tracing my fingers over Tim's small nipples, gently massaging them as they hardened under my touch. He seemed to really enjoy it, purring softly as his fingers casually played with his small erection beneath the soap.
After a while, I told Tim to stand up so I could wash his legs and feet. The sight of his soapy erection made my cock twitch again, and I had to reach down and adjust it before it tore a hole in the fabric. But I wasn't the only one watching him. Mary had stopped playing with her toys, and her eyes were now fixed on her brother's stiff cock.
I poured more soap into my hand and told him to grab the edge of the tub and lift his right foot. After washing that, I told him to lift the other one, too. I tried hard not to look at the gorgeous five-year-old cock that was waving at me from less than a foot away. Once his feet were done, I started washing Tim's legs, beginning with his ankles. As my hands reached his thighs, they brushed the small mound that would later become his scrotum. He stared into my eyes as if begging me to do more, but I figured it was just my imagination running away with me.
I took out the shower head and rinsed the soap scum off my son's body. My eyes enjoyed the sight of my naked, sexy boy, his skin glistening brightly in the bathroom light. I looked down and saw a large wet patch in my pants. I decided I needed to stop and clear my head. I told Tim his bath was finished and he could sit down while I washed his sister.
“But Papa,” he said with a little pout, “you are supposed to wash my pee and my bottom.”
I heard my daughter giggle.
Tim reached down and rubbed his stiff little penis with his palm, as if he were washing it. My heart suddenly raced and I swallowed hard. "Okay, sweetie," I said, smiling nervously at him. "Mom does that too, right?"
He nodded as I squirted more soap into my hand and nervously reached for his small penis. I hesitated for a moment, afraid my desire would overwhelm me and I would lose control. Mary's eyes were still fixed on her brother's penis, and I carefully wrapped my fingers around it, rubbing the soap a few times along the shaft, then down around his small scrotum. His eyelids grew heavy, and I heard a soft moan from his lips, while my own mouth betrayed my arousal. Suddenly, I felt my heart racing and the misty layer of sweat forming on my skin.
My desire grew stronger and stronger, and the velvety feel of his flawless little penis, just beginning a long, pleasurable life, paralyzed me. I moved it slowly between my soapy fingers, gently massaging it in my palm, then took it between my thumb and forefinger. Each time my fingers glided over his glans, my son moaned softly, and I felt more pre-cum seep into my shorts.
Mary watched curiously as her father stroked her older brother. She was no longer interested in her bath toys; her hands were buried under the layer of foam between her legs.
Tim's moans grew louder, and his legs began to tremble. I put my other arm around his waist and leaned closer, so my shoulder rested against his body for support. My face was now only inches above his penis, and I realized I wasn't just washing him anymore—I was openly masturbating my little boy. I wanted to caress him all night long, and judging by his reaction, he probably did too.
I'm sure my eyes glazed over with desire when I thought about closing my mouth around Tim's sweet little cock and running my tongue over the perfect, velvety shaft and the little slit at the end. I wanted to taste my son, to devour his very being. But before my fantasies completely paralyzed me, I forced myself to let go of his cock and told him to turn around.
He groaned. "Oh, Mom's doing this longer, Dad."
My eyes widened as I suddenly imagined June stroking and massaging our five-year-old son's penis in the bathtub. My penis was now fully erect, and I resolved to ask my wife about her bathing routine with Tim.
"Really?" I asked, reaching for his erection again. I stroked it playfully a few times.
Tim nodded and once again enjoyed the feel of my hand. He looked into my eyes and smiled. "But I like the way you wash it, Dad. It feels better than Mom."
The thought of my wife stroking our son during bath time still preoccupied me. There were clearly desires she hadn't shared with me. I was excited and anxious at the same time—excited that she might have shared the same desires as me, but also afraid of misinterpreting the situation and confessing desires she might not have shared. I had a lot to think about.
I gently turned him onto his side to wash his bottom while I continued washing his penis. My hand delighted in the soft texture of his flawless buttocks and the tension of the muscles in the round balls that glistened in the bathroom light. I dipped my fingertips into his cleft and heard him gasp as I slid them over his anus. His eyelids closed again and his mouth opened slightly. I felt his small penis twitch in my other hand and squeezed it firmly.
He placed his small hand on my shoulder for support as I ran my fingers up and down between his buttocks, continuing to wash his erection. His body shuddered slightly with each touch of his little starfish. Then I paused and gently pressed a finger against his opening. It felt wrinkled and warm, the soft, wrinkled flesh trying to grasp my finger. More perverse thoughts raced through my mind. I wiggled my finger slightly, which elicited a soft giggle from my son, though it sounded more like a high-pitched moan. He pressed his bottom against my hand again, and suddenly I felt my soapy finger slide inside him up to the first knuckle. This time he giggled loudly.
"That feels good, Dad," he whispered hoarsely. "Mom does that too."
The mere sight of my wife's delicate fingers exploring our little boy's bottom sent another wave of precum into my wet shorts. He pressed even harder against my hand now, and before I could stop him, my finger slid further in and was now more than halfway inside him.
"Shit," I whispered. My heart felt like it was going to jump out of my chest.
"Oh, you said a bad word, Daddy," he said, giggling. I felt his little asshole tighten around my finger as he laughed. "But I won't tell Mommy."
His smile melted my heart. He continued to look into my eyes as I stroked him faster. I couldn't hold back in that moment, and I didn't want to. I desperately wanted to make my son feel good. The finger inside his anus made subtle movements, searching for his underdeveloped prostate. His body shuddered, and his mouth opened as I stroked it. I still couldn't believe I was masturbating my little boy, or that his mother did the same thing while bathing him. I felt dizzy, and my heart was pounding wildly in my chest.
Suddenly, Tim let out a high-pitched groan, and his legs began to tremble. He closed his eyes tightly, and I felt his hand squeeze my shoulder. His anus twitched around my finger, and I felt his small shaft quiver between my wet fingers. My five-year-old son was experiencing the incredible sensations of a dry orgasm. After a few minutes, his body relaxed, and he opened his eyes. He smiled broadly at me and said, "You did better than Mommy. Can you bathe me every night, Daddy?"
My heart was still pounding wildly in my chest as I slowly withdrew my finger from his ass and released his small penis. He groaned in disappointment. I splashed some water over his body and playfully pinched one of his erect nipples. He giggled, then leaned forward and gave me a quick but tender kiss on the lips.
"I love you, Dad," he said, giving me another broad smile.
“I love you too, son,” I replied. I had never loved anyone more than in that moment. It felt like my son and I had shared a truly special moment, and I didn’t want it to end. I gave him a playful smack on the bottom. “Okay, buddy. Now it’s time to wash your sister.”
Tim sat down in the water and immediately began playing with his erection. His penis was still hard after his dry orgasm, and he didn't seem the least bit ashamed to be playing with it in front of me and his sister. I turned to Mary and said, "It's your turn, Princess." She eagerly stood up.
To be honest, I didn't think my heart and mind could handle any more stimulation. But when I repeated the whole thing with my daughter, gazing at her beautiful, stiff nipples and the enchanting, glistening slit between her legs, I thought I might be the first father in history to die of a stroke or heart attack while bathing his children.
But at least I would die happy!
I washed Mary's upper body and massaged her small, pink nipples. They glistened seductively in the bright bathroom light, collecting tiny drops of water that eventually trickled down her round belly and disappeared into the cleft between her legs. She looked into my eyes the whole time, smiling broadly and occasionally cooing. "Feels good, Daddy," she whispered.
As with her brother, I had Mary stand to my side so I could wash her front and back at the same time. I slowly worked my way down both sides, enjoying the softness of the little girl beneath my soapy hands. When I reached her swollen mound and her soft, round breasts, she giggled and placed her small, delicate hand on my shoulder. Her eyes fluttered and her breathing deepened. My sweet little girl looked down, watching intently as I ran a soapy finger along her cleft, back and forth, a little deeper each time. My other hand wandered between her buttocks and glided gently over her anus.
"Does Mom wash you like that too?" I asked her.
Mary nodded and continued to look down. She spread her legs wider and gasped as I curled my middle finger and gently slid it inside her. The soft flesh within felt warm and moist, gripping my finger tightly. I encountered her fleshy barrier before my finger reached the first knuckle. She moaned softly, her eyes closed, her breath coming in gasps.
As I slowly slid my finger back and forth inside her little pussy, my thumb found the slightest hint of the nub that would one day bring her great pleasure. She gasped at my touch. "Feels so good, Daddy," she whispered.
The discomfort in my crotch grew exponentially the longer I stroked my little girl. Tim was fascinated by the movement between his sister's legs and unashamedly continued playing with the small toy between his own legs. My lustful eyes clouded and blurred my vision as I gazed lovingly at my little girl. I leaned forward and took one of her wet nipples between my lips, which made her shudder. My tongue found the small bulge and caressed it tenderly, while my fingers continued to explore her secret places.
Her high-pitched moans made my penis tremble. She moved her hips back and forth, silently begging me to do more. I felt the area around my finger growing wet inside her young pussy and wondered how such a young girl could be so aroused. I took my finger and slid it along her wet cleft, over her undeveloped clitoris, and back inside her. She trembled violently. I felt a slight twitch in her opening, and it felt as if her anus was gently kissing my other finger. Her eyelids fluttered, and her knees began to tremble, as if my four-year-old daughter were having a mini-orgasm. Was something like that even possible for such a young girl?
"She does that when Mommy washes her," Tim observed, suddenly snapping me out of my reverie. "Mommy makes us both feel good."
Carefully, I withdrew my finger and quickly washed the remaining soap off Mary's body. I sat back on my heels, trying to catch my breath. My heart was pounding as if I'd just run a marathon. The cool bathroom air calmed me as it brushed against the fine layer of sweat on my skin. The sound of my daughter's sweet voice brought me back to reality. "Can we go outside now, Dad? I'm cold."
My daughter raised her arms, and I lifted her up and sat her beside the tub. I grabbed a towel and dried her off. My hands seemed to linger between her legs for a moment, and she giggled with pleasure. I kissed her cheek and then gave her a playful pat on the bottom. "Okay, darling. Go to your room and get ready for bed. I'll be right there to tuck you in."
Mary ran out of the bathroom as I turned to my son, who had already stood up and was pointing his stiff penis at my face. A fleeting image of my lips encircling his shaft flashed in my mind as I lifted him out of the tub. I ran the towel all over his body, spending a little more time making sure his penis was nice and dry. He seemed to really enjoy it and gave me a broad smile. Then his gaze fell on the crotch of my shorts.
"Dad, you need to dry yourself too." He pointed at the huge wet patch on the front of my pants. He thought maybe bathwater had splashed on me, and I didn't want to explain what had really happened. That was a conversation for later.
"Looks like it," I replied. I gave him a quick kiss on the tip of his nose and then playfully slapped his bottom. "Now go to your room. Get ready for bed, I'll come after cleaning and put you to bed."
After Timmy ran out of the bathroom, I collapsed on the floor, still sweating and a little shaky. I needed a moment to calm down from the incredible sights and sensations of the last twenty minutes. My cock was still clamoring for release, so I busied myself with draining the tub and mopping up the excess water from the floor. By the time I was finished and went into my son's bedroom, I was almost back to normal. But when I saw Tim, my cock sprang back to life and my heart started beating again. He was completely naked and had simply burrowed under the covers.
"Where are your pajamas, little man?" I asked him as I tucked him in.
He looked at me and smiled. "Mom says I don't have to wear one."
"Oh, she does, doesn't she?" I leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Well, if Mom says so..." I smiled.
I turned around and was about to leave when I heard his quiet voice. "Dad? Can you take a bath with me tomorrow evening? We can wash each other."
My poor cock just didn't get a break! Those wonderfully perverse thoughts came flooding back. I turned around, went back to his bed, and gave him another soft kiss on the cheek. "I'd like that, buddy? Let's do it."
His broad smile was still in my mind as I left his room and walked down the hall to Mary's bedroom. She was wearing cute pink panties with butterflies on them and was just about to crawl under the covers when I arrived. I covered her up, staring at the delicious nipples I had tasted earlier. Then I gave her a kiss and hurried out before the state of my shorts prompted any questions from her.
I walked down the hall to my bedroom, slipped out of my T-shirt and damp shorts, and then jumped in the shower for a long, relaxing bath and a short, intense masturbation session. I fell asleep that night, dozing off to images of my naked little children and the fun times we had in the bathtub. My penis seemed to stay hard until I drifted off.
It turned out that June came home a day early, and I never had time to bathe my children again. I tried to ask my wife about her bathing routine with them and told her I wanted to make sure I was doing it right, but she was very evasive, and we never spoke about it again. Sometimes I would go in to ask if she needed any help, but somehow she would always start talking as soon as I arrived, and I never caught her actually stroking them. And I never found out if the children told her about our time together.
Shortly after that night, June told me she was pregnant again, and a few months later we had our son, Matthew. I never had the chance to bathe him, but I often saw him naked. Matt was our "little nudist" and often ran around the house naked. He simply hated being dressed, which constantly frustrated June and frequently gave me erections.
With three small children running around the house in varying stages of undress, it was difficult to control my desires. I felt like I was wearing a perpetual tent. It was especially difficult when one of the children wanted to sit on my lap while I watched television in the evenings. They would squirm and wiggle their little bottoms over my growing penis. If June noticed, I'm sure she wouldn't say anything.
Although I tried several times to talk to my wife about it, we both seemed too afraid to speak openly about our sexual desires. One evening, however, we came close when we got home from my boss's party. June and I had one too many cocktails and were quite tipsy. We were openly groping each other in the living room until we noticed the babysitter was still there. We quickly paid her, and she left with an amused expression.
Later that evening, as I hugged June after a passionate spooning session, she laughed and casually mentioned that it would have been wilder if the babysitter had stayed and watched us have sex. She even went to say that the sixteen-year-old should have come along, but then she caught herself and mumbled that she was tired and needed to go to sleep.
Unfortunately, that was the last time she opened up to me, and I was too cowardly to start another conversation or ask her if she was bringing other people or children into our bed. June and I continued to have a decent but very boring sex life, which eventually dwindled to once or twice a month. The children grew up and gradually went off to college. Our sex life almost completely ceased after our youngest child moved out. I mostly lived in my fantasies, and it felt like we were reliving my parents' lives.
Our daughter met a man in college and married him after graduation. A year later, they had a daughter, Tabitha, and two years after that, a son, Kyle. They were our first grandchildren. Unfortunately, they moved across the country when her husband got a promotion, and we hardly ever saw them. Shortly after, our son Matt married and had twins, Caleb and Crystal. But like his sister, he moved his family across the country when a business opportunity arose.
Our eldest son, Tim, left college in his sophomore year and moved in with his partner. They married and adopted a little boy named Joshua. Tim and his husband stayed in the area and opened a small café. June and I occasionally had the chance to babysit little Joshua, and it brought back all my old desires. I eagerly offered to bathe him, something June rarely allowed, and I loved having him sit on my lap while he watched cartoons.
But as time went on, we saw him less often, and these old desires simply lingered in the back of my mind. I gave up trying to fulfill them, but sometimes I masturbated to the wonderful memories of my own children and how much fun they used to have bathing with Grandpa.
I switch off the recorder and hear the voice of a boy calling for me. It's one of the football players coming over.
“Sir?” he asks. “Can you throw me the ball?” I stare at the boy as he stops a few meters in front of me.
Oh my God, he's cute!
His slightly feminine appearance is accentuated by shoulder-length, curly blond hair, large blue eyes with long lashes, and lips that look almost as if they're painted with a thin layer of pink lipstick. He can't be older than twelve or thirteen, with long, smooth legs that disappear seductively into the thin, sweat-drenched shorts that cling to his body. The damp fabric emphasizes the contours of his youthful pride. Mine begins to stir.
"The ball is under your bench," he adds. "Could you please throw it to me?"
I shake off my lustful expression long enough to look under the bench. I find the ball and reach down to pick it up. I smile at it as I throw it back.
His smile betrays his shyness. "Thank you." He notices my gaze falling on his crotch.
As he turns to leave, I notice how his shorts cling tightly to his firm buttocks, disappearing into his crack. He turns his head and grins at me, well aware of the effect he has on me.
Damn, I absolutely have to sort this all out tonight.
I watch him return to his teammates and kick the ball around for a few minutes. I think of the saying "innocence of youth." But that's a bit misleading when you apply it to certain children. Especially my youth. I watch my recording again.
During my marriage, there were times when I would sneak away for an hour or two and visit a nearby porn shop. They had seating areas in the back where a man could enjoy a brief moment of pleasure, whether it was to masturbate to a video or get a blowjob through a glory hole. I've had many cocks in my mouth at that porn shop and have shot my load of cum into many wonderful, talented mouths.
As a regular customer, I got to know Alexander, the owner. He was about my age and of Mediterranean descent. He was a striking, handsome man with a bronze-toned face framed by short, dark hair. He had piercing brown eyes above a large nose and full lips. His chin was covered with a permanent, shadowy stubble. He was a few centimeters shorter than me and powerfully built.
Alexander initially seemed quiet and reserved, but as I got to know him, I discovered a depth I hadn't expected in a porn shop owner. I often saw him behind the counter reading a book—usually a hardback—whose title suggested an interest in philosophy, ancient history, and art. Sometimes, when business was slow, we would discuss these topics and share anecdotes from our lives and families.
Alexander was a grandfather, just like me. He was happily married to his wife Sophia for 39 years. He told me that he had opened the shop 20 years ago with the full support of his family. To my great surprise, he told me that his children would help him in the shop as soon as they came of age, until they eventually went off to college.
On one of my visits a few days ago, the shop seemed quite empty when I entered. It was Friday evening, normally a very busy time for the shop. I noticed Alexander sitting behind the counter reading a book on Roman history, so I asked him where everyone was.
“Oh, probably at the state championship game,” he said, putting down his book and smiling at me. “It’s the first time in twenty years that Grover High School has made it to the championship, so it’s a big deal. Most of my regulars are married men with high school kids. I’m surprised you’re not here, Gary. Weren’t your kids at Grover?”
“Oh yes,” I replied, having to admit my memory loss. “I had completely forgotten about the game.”
I must have seemed a little distracted, because Alexander looked at me and frowned slightly. "Everything alright, Gary? Is something bothering you?" He stood up from his chair and came closer to me.
It was difficult for me to maintain my gaze into those deep brown eyes. "Nothing unusual," I replied.
It was an obvious lie, and he knew it. Lately, I'd been trapped in a vicious cycle of self-pity, regretting the choices I'd made over the years and berating myself for missed opportunities. As the years went by, this regret had become increasingly agonizing. He reached out and placed his hand on my bare forearm. Surprisingly, for such a rough man, his touch was warm and gentle, sending a shiver down my spine. I hadn't been touched so tenderly by another man since college. My face flushed, and I swallowed hard.
“You know,” he began, gently stroking my arm with his thumb, “I’ve found that 99 percent of all problems men our age have are related to regret, sex, or a lack of courage to pursue what they want.” He leaned a little closer and looked into my eyes as I nervously glanced back. “I have a feeling that all of that applies to you.”
The sudden look of recognition on my face gave it away, and he smiled. Alexander was truly more than just a source for sex toys and a quick blowjob.
“Well,” I said, still unsure whether I should talk about it, “you’re probably right. I’ve been somewhat distracted for the last, oh, forty years.” I laughed, forced.
Alexander's laughter echoed through the empty shop as he squeezed my arm. "Well," he said. "I can certainly understand your situation."
His laughter was infectious and I relaxed. "Yes, it's been an interesting life, that's for sure." I felt his constant touch on my arm—almost imperceptibly—and my penis began to stir. "Would you like to talk about it?"
Although Alexander owned a business that literally revolved around sex, this was the first time we had discussed our sex lives. I hesitated to delve deeper and share the taboo desires that haunted me daily. I didn't want to jeopardize our friendship.
“I really shouldn’t,” I replied, looking into his caring eyes. “I’m a little embarrassed by my wishes, but I appreciate your concern.”
Without hesitation, he said: “Come on, Gary. I own a porn shop. There’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”
He held my gaze and continued to smile. I suppose he thought my desires followed the usual patterns—same-sex attraction, BDSM, piss play, anal, and so on—and I was almost certain that no one had spoken to him about her incestuous feelings and her desire to have sex with her children and grandchildren. Who would risk that?
"I don't know, Alexander. I don't think you want to hear about my wishes because they are not the kind of wishes you usually hear about."
"Believe me, Gary," he said, placing his hand on my shoulder. "I heard everything. Even the illegal stuff, if you know what I mean."
I blushed. “I, um…” I stammered. “No, it’s not like that… I…”
"It's okay, Gary," he said in a much gentler tone. His hand squeezed my shoulder, sending another surge of sexual tension through my body. "What if I told you I had the same desires? Would that shock you?"
It took me a moment to calm my pounding heart. "Um, yeah. I mean, how do you know what I want? You mentioned 'illegal' desires, but there are a lot of illegal things, like paying prostitutes or having sex in public. How do you know it's not one of those?"
I felt bad because I suddenly became defensive. Before I could apologize, he said, "There are also illegal things like incest and sex with children. These are desires I have, and I have the feeling that you do too."
His confession surprised me. I felt my knees buckle and had to hold onto the counter. I looked into his eyes for what felt like an eternity, but all I could see was compassion and a desire to connect with me through shared interests. I glanced around the shop as if expecting it to be full of people now, listening intently to my every word. I leaned closer to Alexander.
"Did I understand you correctly?" I whispered. "Your desires include incest and sex with children?"
Alexander simply smiled and nodded. Then he said, "And you have the same wishes, my friend. I can see it in your eyes."
“Oh my God,” I said, suddenly letting out a deep breath. A wave of relief washed over me. “I’ve never spoken to anyone who has the same desires. I’ve had them my whole life. I’ve tried to suppress them and ignore them, but I just can’t forget them. Do you feel the same way?”
“Yes, that’s true,” he replied. “Even as a young boy, I would lie in bed at night and masturbate while thinking about my family. I had a younger sister and an older brother who looked like a girl. He had very feminine features—full lips, high cheekbones, long eyelashes. His hips were a bit wider than most boys’, and he had long, slender legs. He wore his hair long, and sometimes our mother caught him trying on her clothes. In his early twenties, he actually went through gender reassignment surgery, and suddenly I had two sisters.”
Alexander stepped to the right and bent down behind the counter, then came back up with two cold beers. He handed me one and then continued on his way.
"Around the beginning of puberty, I started having sexual fantasies about my siblings and parents. Sometimes I caught a glimpse of my parents in their underwear when I walked past their room, and several times I saw my father completely naked after showering. His large penis was frequently the subject of my masturbation sessions. Once, I saw my mother naked when I accidentally went into the bathroom one night after she had bathed. After that, I spent an incredible amount of time spying on all my family members, which certainly fueled my fantasies even more."
“That sounds like my childhood,” I said, smiling broadly at Alexander. “It felt like I constantly had an erection because I was either spying on my family or imagining having sex with them all.”
Alexander laughed. “Yeah, it sounds like we had a pretty perverse childhood, my friend. Anyway, I had those fantasies all through high school and into college. After I got married and had kids, I realized my desires hadn't faded. We had a boy, and two years later, a girl. Even though I played around with them and they really enjoyed it, I started feeling guilty as they got older, so I stopped. Plus, I was constantly afraid my wife would find out. By the time they were teenagers, I actually regretted stopping the lovemaking and constantly wished I could go back in time and start it all over again.”
“Wouldn’t that be wonderful,” I said, finishing my beer. “What wouldn’t I give to be able to travel back in time and do things differently!”
Alexander threw away our empty cans and grabbed two more beers, then looked at me and smiled. It was a mischievous smile.
"What if you could actually do that, Gary?" he asked, handing me another beer.
"What if I could actually do something? Travel back in time?" I asked.
"Yes."
"Yeah, sure," I snorted. "It's funny to think about, but I don't own a special DeLorean." I laughed too loudly at my own joke.
"You don't need a DeLorean, Gary. I traveled back in time. What I just told you is my personal story before I went back and changed things. Do you really think my wife would have allowed me to open a porn shop and have our kids work here if I hadn't been able to change my past?"
My mouth fell open as I stared into Alexander's eyes, searching for the slightest hint of a joke. I couldn't find one.
“Sophia and I, as well as all our children and grandchildren, are sexually active with each other,” he continued. “That wouldn’t be possible without going back in time and making a few important changes.”
Speechless, I continued to stare into Alexander's deep brown eyes. I began to think that Alexander, although a nice guy, was a bit off his rocker. Suddenly, I wanted to escape to a corner and finish what I was doing there.
"Well, that was fun," I said, raising my can. "Thanks for the beer. I think I'll go back and do my business."
I was about to turn around and leave when he said, "Would you like me to prove it to you, my friend?"
"What? That you can go back in time?"
"Yes."
"Come on, Alexander. That was really fun. But you and I both know that time travel isn't possible."
His smile widened. "What if I can prove it to you? What do you have to lose?"
“More time,” I said, a little too sharply. “I really need to finish and go home, Alexander.”
I turned around and, shaking my head and giggling, went to the back of the shop. "This Alexander is a real character," I thought to myself. Then I heard what I took to be the click of a door lock. I was about to step into a niche when Alexander appeared behind me.
"I'll show you another cubicle," he said, suddenly taking my hand and leading me down the short corridor. His fingers intertwined with mine, and I felt another surge of erotic tension.
He stopped us at the end of the corridor, and I stared at a silk-black wall. He let go of my hand, reached down, and slid a small, round panel to the side. The panel blended with the wall, concealing a hole. With his other hand, he extended a finger and inserted it into the hole. Then I heard a soft click. Suddenly, a section of the wall swung open, revealing a cubicle that, at first glance, looked like any other. Alexander took my hand again and led me into the room. He closed the door, and we were both plunged into complete darkness. Then, in a low voice, he said, "Light."
A soft light flickered to life above me, and I looked around the room. It seemed like all the other booths, except there was neither a screen nor a chair. I glanced along the walls and saw a glory hole on the left, but none on the right.
"What is so special about this stall?" I asked him.
A smile spread across his face, threatening to split it, and his eyes sparkled like diamonds. "This booth, my friend, will allow you to fulfill your desires. Let me show you." With that, Alexander led me to the glory hole.
"I know you still don't believe I can travel back in time, so I want to prove to you that it's possible. You told me about your wife, June. Is that right?"
I nodded and tried to hide my growing skepticism.
"But you didn't tell me June's maiden name. What if I traveled back in time and found out what it was, and then came back and told you? Would you believe me then?"
"Travel to the past from this booth?" I asked, looking around the dimly lit room. "Um, I guess so," I stammered. "Will you just disappear or something?"
“No, I won’t disappear,” he replied, shaking his head slightly. “But to really convince you, I’ll also find out her parents’ first names and her favorite color. I’m sure you didn’t mention any of that.”
I pursed my lips and stared at Alexander for a moment. It was clear that he genuinely believed in this time-travel nonsense and was eager to prove it to me, so I decided to grant his wish.
“Okay. If you can find out this information, I’ll believe you,” I said honestly. “But I have to ask: How do you intend to travel back in time from this small stall? And how long will you be gone?”
Alexander chuckled softly and squeezed my hand again. “I’m not going anywhere, Gary. At least not physically. You know, time travel doesn’t work the way you think. My body will stay here, and my current mind will temporarily inhabit an earlier version of myself. I’ll keep all the memories I’ve accumulated throughout my life, but to the people around me, I’ll appear exactly as I was back then.”
He could see the confusion on my face, but continued: "No matter how long my thoughts wander into the past, it will seem to you as if I only spent a few seconds here. Let me demonstrate."
He let go of my hand, reached down, opened his trousers, and let them fall to the floor. He stood there in baby blue, lace-trimmed briefs with a white bow in the front. His large, flaccid penis formed a tempting bulge.
“Yes, I wear women’s panties,” he said, without a hint of embarrassment. “They’re more comfortable and make me feel sexy. Besides, Sophia loves to fuck me when I wear them. And my granddaughter likes to wear matching panties to her grandfather.”
Alexander really had more to offer than I had imagined.
He smiled at me as he hooked his thumbs into his waistband and pressed them down. His uncircumcised penis was breathtaking. "Would you like to stroke it for me, Gary?"
I wasn't sure what Alexander's masturbation had to do with time travel, but I couldn't pass up the chance to caress the handsome man. I hesitated only a moment, took his penis in my hand, and began to stroke it. Within seconds, it was completely erect, and Alexander moaned softly. He brought his lips closer to mine, and we were suddenly kissing passionately. My own penis trembled and quickly became hard.
But far too quickly he broke the kiss and whispered: "Thank you, my friend. My penis needs to be stiff for this to work."
Before I could ask any further questions, Alexander turned to the wall, thrust his hips forward, and inserted his stiff penis into the glory hole. He groaned loudly once, then his neck relaxed and his head fell forward. His body trembled slightly for a moment, then he fell silent.
About five seconds later, his head snapped back up, his eyes fluttered open, and he slowly withdrew his penis from the hole. He turned to me with a broad smile. I looked down and noticed a stream of semen dripping from his penis, falling onto the floor in small, pale white puddles. He placed his left hand on my shoulder for support and then said, "Her maiden name is Bennett, her parents are Gus and Mildred, and her favorite color is red."
To say I was speechless with shock would be an understatement. I felt my mouth move, but I couldn't understand any words. I kept looking at Alexander, then at the glory hole, then down at his penis. There was no way he could know all of this. Sure, maybe I'd forgotten that I'd mentioned June's maiden name in a previous conversation—though it was unlikely—but I'd definitely never told him her parents' names or her favorite color.
I felt him squeeze my shoulder. "Are you okay, Gary?"
I shook my head, suddenly feeling dizzy. "How do you know that, Alexander?" I reached down and grabbed his stiff, dripping cock to emphasize my next question. "How can you know that if you only put that cock in a hole for a few seconds?"
He laughed heartily, which sounded far too loud in the small cabin. I felt his dripping cock swell in my hand.
“I told you, Gary. What seemed like a few seconds to you was a week to me. I remembered you mentioning earlier that your wedding anniversary is in July and that you've been married for forty years. But you never told me the date. So I traveled back in time to July 1, 1985 – forty years ago – and went to see you. It turns out you got married the following weekend, July 6, so I stayed there for a week and went to your wedding. I met your wife and her parents and even chatted with you for a few minutes.”
"But I don't remember you being at our wedding."
"That's because you saw me as a younger person. Forty years younger."
I felt the wetness of his penis between my fingers and realized I was still holding it. I quickly let go, which made Alexander groan.
"But how is that possible?" I stammered. "There must be a logical explanation."
He laughed heartily again. "About ten years ago, I discovered a time-travel device and thought it was an antique sex toy."
I'm sure my wide eyes and raised eyebrows amused Alexander when he paused to let that sink in. Then he continued.
My father was an archaeologist and professor at the National University of Athens for many years. When he died ten years ago, my mother asked me to look through his personal collection of artifacts and see if any of it could be donated to a museum. While rummaging through the drawers of his old wooden desk, I came across a large, egg-shaped object with a hole in the middle that didn't go all the way through. It was made of a stone I didn't recognize, and unusual symbols—almost like hieroglyphs—were engraved in the center.
The inside of the hole appeared to be lined with a soft, rubbery material, its surface resembling velvet. After an hour of trying to figure out what it was, it dawned on me that it looked like an antique version of a male masturbator I'd seen online. Examining the markings on the outside, I realized that one of them definitely looked like a penis. So, I did what any curious and horny man would do and inserted my penis.
I saw his face contort with melancholy as he thought back on that eventful day. His eyes were glazed over and his lips curled into a smile.
"So, what happened?" I asked, suddenly eager to hear more of the story.
Alexander's eyes slowly returned to mine, and he continued, "Well, I can tell you, it completely freaked me out. One minute I had my pants down and was sticking my hard cock into the artifact, and the next minute I was standing next to my father, who was working on an excavation in Egypt—an excavation he'd worked on thirty years before he died! You know, I remember that excavation. I was a history professor—it was part of my past—and I remember going to that excavation with my father as part of my studies at the time."
It was strange and confusing, and at first I thought I was hallucinating. I thought maybe the artifact had injected me with some kind of poison. But everything felt so real; so much more than just a hallucination. I felt a little dizzy when I realized that my body was thirty years younger, but I had all my memories up to the day I found the artifact.
Then I thought that perhaps the last thirty years had been just a dream, and that I was actually still a young history professor working with my father on one of his many excavations. But I knew that wasn't the case. No dream was so vivid and detailed. I was actually in the past!
“But how did you get back?” I asked, still shocked by Alexander’s incredible story.
“Ah,” he smiled. “That wasn’t so easy to understand. I’d been there for several weeks and was beginning to think I’d never be able to return to my own time. One night, I was lying in the tent my father and I shared, and I realized how much I needed to release the tension that had built up inside me. So I started quietly masturbating, trying not to wake him. It wasn’t long before I came, and I whispered to myself, ‘I wish I could go home.’”
Suddenly I was back in my father's office, and my penis was still inside the artifact. I felt a little dizzy and lightheaded as I pulled it out. I noticed that there was semen inside the artifact, which was leaking onto the floor. After cleaning it up, I took out my phone and took several close-up photos of the engravings. I then emailed the photos to a colleague and asked him if he could translate them for me.
After completing my mother's request, I took the artifact home. The next day, my colleague replied that the engravings were somewhat unusual, a kind of hybrid language based on ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs. He stated that a rough translation would be as follows:
A journey begins when mind and phallus are swollen,
and ends when the seed is used up and the voice cries out for home.”
"So, when you said 'home' while ejaculating, you figured it out," I said, and saw him nod. "But why were you transported back to that exact time—to your father's house?"
"So, as I went through his collection, I relived in my mind the time I had spent with my father. I must have been thinking about this excavation just before I put my penis into the artifact. Anyway, I found that I could determine the target by thinking about it."
"So this is what's behind the glory hole? The artifact?" I asked.
"Exactly. I mounted it behind the wall. That way I can use it comfortably and privately."
"How many trips into the past have you made?"
Alexander thought about my question for a moment and then replied: “I made several more trips after that, just to see how it all worked. I quickly realized that I had to be careful because it is so easy to change the course of my story and the story of the people close to me.”
"Has something terrible happened?"
“Not bad, no,” he replied, momentarily lost in thought. “On my second trip back, I decided it would be fun to relive my wedding day and see my wife as a beautiful young woman. During that visit, my best man told me he was going to propose to his girlfriend that weekend. I remembered that conversation. But I also knew their marriage would be a complete disaster and that he would attempt suicide after his divorce, so I managed to talk him out of it. When I returned to my own time, I suddenly had new memories of his wedding to my wife’s best friend. Their marriage had been wonderful, and they were still madly in love. So yes, history can be changed, but you never know how it will end.”
"So was that the point at which you decided to change your own story?"
“Yes. On one of my next visits, I set everything in motion. I went back to my childhood, to when I started fantasizing about my family and gradually seducing them – first my siblings, then our parents.”
I learned new things about them in the process. I discovered that my father had an incestuous relationship with his father when he was young, and that my mother secretly visited a friend and attended his swinger parties for all ages while my father was away on his archaeological expeditions. They already had certain expectations for their children, so it was easy to get everything started.
"And when you came back, was your family still like that?"
“Yes. When I came back, I suddenly had all these new memories of my family’s incestuous activities from when I left until today. That’s one of the reasons why I always feel a bit dizzy when I return from the past. It’s all these extra memories that overwhelm my mind.”
"That's incredible," I said. "And you're still going back?"
"Since my father died ten years ago and my mother is now almost ninety and not very active, I have often returned just to relive these experiences with them."
My head was spinning from all the information Alexander had shared with me. Until that day, I had always believed that time travel was impossible. But I had just witnessed it—or the aftermath—and yet I was still finding it difficult to process. Was it all just a dream?
Alexander had stopped talking and let me absorb everything. I felt the warmth of his hand on my shoulder and placed one of my hands on his. I looked deep into his eyes.
"This is all so overwhelming," I told him. "Does anyone else know about this?"
Alexander shook his head. “You’re the first person I’ve told. I deliberately kept it a secret from my family because if one of them wanted to travel back in time, they could change my life. I know that sounds selfish, but after all the work I’ve put into my family, I just can’t risk someone messing everything up.”
"That's understandable," I agreed. "Then why did you decide to share your secret with me?"
Alexander leaned closer until I felt his semi-erect penis against my groin and his breath on my lips. "Because you seem to really need this opportunity, my friend. Knowing that we share the same desires, I'd like to share this gift with you, if you'd like to accept it."
I felt tears welling up in my eyes and my throat tightening. Before me stood a man with whom I only had a fleeting friendship, and who was offering me something that could change my life forever – the chance to fulfill the desires I had carried with me for almost my entire life.
I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his. Our kiss was tender and heartfelt. "Thank you so much," I said. "How can I ever repay you for this wonderful gift?"
His hand gently stroked my cheek. "You don't need to pay anything, Gary. I'm simply giving you the chance to experience what your life should have been like from the beginning."
We kissed again, and this time I stroked his increasingly hard cock. He groaned into my mouth. We parted far too quickly.
I continued stroking him and asked, "Can I use the artifact now?" My heart began to beat wildly with anticipation.
Alexander smiled and placed his hand on my chest. "You know about my experiences, but you need to think about it again," he said. "You need to decide when you want to return to achieve the best possible outcome. And secondly," he added, "you need to document your life so far."
"My life so far? To what purpose?"
"If you travel back in time and do something that wipes out your current family, you need to be aware of it so that you can potentially reverse the effects."
I pondered his words. I hadn't even considered the possibility that I could somehow erase my wife and my entire family from my timeline. But it did sound like that, and now I wasn't so sure I should return. "I understand, Alexander. Now I have doubts."
“There’s a lot to consider, Gary,” he said, placing a hand on my hip. “Let’s say, for example, you go back and try to seduce your parents, and they reject you and send you to boarding school. You might never meet your wife and therefore not have the children and grandchildren you have today. Can you imagine the impact that would have on your life?”
I nodded slowly. "Yes, I understand."
"That's why it's absolutely essential that you document everything so you can try to reverse it. That is, if you decide to. There's always the possibility that if you change the course of your life, you might prefer the change, even if it means giving up the family you've spent your whole life with. The family you love now."
We stood there, staring into each other's eyes. Mine were unfocused and filled with fear, his with excitement and playfulness. It was clear that Alexander enjoyed sharing all of this with me and making me understand the full implications of what I was about to do.
Finally, I said, "No matter what the risks are, I still want to do it."
His lips briefly touched mine. "Excellent," he said. "It will change your life, my friend. No matter how it turns out. But before I can let you travel through time, you must promise to document your past. Do you have a recording device?"
"Yes, I do."
"Then I suggest you find a nice, quiet place or a place to relax and write down as much as possible about your past. Believe me, this is a necessary protective measure."
I squeezed his penis lightly. "I'll do that tomorrow. I know exactly where."
He leaned in for another long kiss while I slowly stroked his stiff shaft. When he broke off the kiss, he said, "You can come over tomorrow evening if you want, and I'll help you with your first ride."
"Perfect."
"Until then, my friend."
Alexander bent down and pulled up his cute, baby-blue panties, then his trousers. He accompanied me out of the fitting room and through the store. He unlocked the front door, gave me another gentle kiss, and said, "See you tomorrow."
I was so excited as I made my way home. I couldn't wait to go to the park the next day and record my story. But even more importantly, I was looking forward to the opportunities that lay ahead. I had no doubt that my life would change in many ways starting tomorrow.
