Warning! This story involves incest. Do not continue if you are likely to be offended!

I'm officially Jamieson Scott III, but ever since I can remember, everyone has called me Boy, to differentiate me from my father, Jamieson Scott II, better known to all as Sonny, to differentiate him from my grampa, Jamieson Scott I. Most people call grampa Jim, but my father calls him Pop, and I call him Gramps. I call Sonny Dad.

Gramps and Grandma took a big hand in raising me when my mother died giving birth to me. I gather from what I've been told, Dad took it very hard, and even blamed me for her death. I've been told that for four or five months he refused to have anything to do with me, but then he came to his senses. I can honestly say he has been a model father to me ever since, as loving and caring as they get, taking the blame on himself for anything that went wrong in my life.

The only difference between me and my father and other sons and fathers is that we fuck each other!

I knew that would shock you – just as I intended it to.

But don't get things wrong. I am not an abused child, or anything like that. I was sixteen before anything happened between my father and myself, and when it did, it was at my instigation. I started it; we finished it.

When we did first get it on, I was by no means a virgin. I had had sex with several of my classmates and neighbourhood boys, and even a plumber who had come to work on a new hot water system in our house. He was here for three days. It was during the spring break, so Dad went to work and left me to let the plumber in.

The first day I hung round in the basement and watched the guy work. He was a handsome blonde guy, in his thirties, I guess. I was only fifteen at the time, so he seemed very old to me. He wore overalls open to his navel, exposing his hairy chest and treasure trail. I might have been only fifteen, but it still turned me on. I'm sure the guy must have noticed the young stiffy in my sweat pants as I watched him work.

"Been good having you keep me company, Boy, " the plumber told me as he left. "My name's Ben, by the way. Hope I'll see more of you tomorrow." It was only later that I realized there was a double entendre in his words.

After he had gone, I took off all my clothes and jerked off, imagining sucking Ben's cock. I shot my biggest load of cum ever that afternoon! It went all over the living-room carpet and I had to clean it up and pray the carpet dried before Dad got home.

The second day, when I let him in, I was wearing only my sweats and a singlet, hoping the guy would notice my young muscular body and my semi-hard cock swinging loose in my pants.

And he did notice! When his eyes went straight to my crotch, almost as soon as the basement door closed behind him, I got harder and harder until my cock stuck out like a pole. I was already over five inches hard even back then, so it was very noticeable in the loose grey sweats.

"Boy! Looks like you've got something hiding in there, Boy!" Ben chuckled, nodding toward my woody, and enjoying his own play on my name. "So am I going to see more of you today?"

This time I got what he meant, but just to be sure, I asked, "You want to see me with my pants off?"

"Sure," he told me. "I'd like to see your young cock."

"O.K." I agreed, "but only so long as you'll show me your cock."

"Of course," Ben agreed. He unbuttoned his overalls all the way to the bottom, and his huge, uncut cock popped out. Like myself, he was wearing no underwear.

In turn, I dropped my sweats and stepped out of them.

I knelt on the basement carpet and admired his rod.

"Can I touch it?" I asked.

"You can touch it, suck it, do whatever you like with it," he told me. "Just don't tell anyone about it, promise!"

"I promise," I vowed, as I took it in hand.

"Ever seen a cock that big before, Boy?" Ben asked, as I fondled it.

"No," I lied, because for I ages had been spying on Dad while he jacked off, and Dad's cock was equally as large.

Ben's cock-head was almost too big for my mouth, but somehow I managed. I pushed back his foreskin with my teeth and tasted the salty headcheese under the rim of his knob. I ran my tongue over the velvet texture of the bulbous head. I enjoyed Ben's murmurs of pleasure for they told me I was doing this right.

While I sucked on his knob, I masturbated my own cock, which was throbbing and ready to burst from excitement. I forced Ben's cock as far into my mouth and down my throat as I could and felt it tighten and spasm as he prepared to shoot his load into my mouth. We both came at the same time, with my cum squirting all over the front of his overalls, and his filling my mouth faster than I could swallow it. It dribbled from my mouth and onto my singlet.

Finished, Ben gave me a big grin and said, "Well now we'd better get some work done, hadn't we."

When he was leaving for the day, I asked, "Can we play round again tomorrow?"

"If you want to," he agreed, "but you've got to promise you won't tell anyone."

"I already promised," I reminded him.

"Yeah," so you did," he said, and left.

When Ben arrived the next day, I was waiting eagerly for him. I already had a hard-on – and so did he, as I saw as soon as he walked in the door.

"Let's play right away," I said, dropping my pants to the floor.

"Great idea," he said and opened his overalls to let his cock pop free, but before I could grab it to suck it, he bent and untied his work boots, kicked them off, and then stripped off his overalls, standing there in just his work-socks and his cock standing free.

"So what do you want to do? Ben asked. "You want me to suck you off?"

"No," I told him. "I want you to bum-fuck me."

"You sure?" he asked, honestly concerned. "I don't want to hurt you."

"I'm sure," I told him. "I've been fucked before, and I really like it." I didn't tell him that all the cocks I had been fucked by were maybe half the size of his seven plus inches.

"Where do you want to do it?" he asked. "Right here on the floor."

"There's a cot bed in the spare room over there," I suggested.

"OK," he agreed. Before we headed to the spare room he rummaged in his tool box and bought out a small jar of grease. "This'll make things easier," he assured me.

Ben laid me on my side on the cot, and climbed on behind me. I felt him probe my hole with his finger. It was cold with a glob of grease, and he worked it into my asshole with his finger, gently.

"This is going to hurt," he told me, "even with the grease." I wasn't too worried. I had been practising for a while with larger and larger carrots and cucumbers and zucchini from our backyard garden. Dad blamed the missing vegetables on rabbits.

Even so, it did hurt when he entered me. It was so much bigger than any vegetable I had ever shoved up there! I guess I screamed, because Ben asked, "Are you OK? Do you want me to take it out?"

"No," I panted through gritted teeth and pain and tears. "It'll be OK. I want it all the way in. Just go slowly." There was another surge of pain as his cock-head stretched the inner circle of muscles until it burst through and he was really inside me. The pain subsided and he slowly pushed further and further into me until his groin was hard up against my buttocks. He was buried to the hilt.

"That feels so good now," I told him. "Fuck me slowly till you cum inside me," I ordered. He did just that, and spent, he started to pull his cock out of me.

"No!" I ordered. "Stay inside me until I cum," and I began to masturbate furiously. When I did, and began to spurt my seed, it must have given him new impetus, because I felt him shooting a second load inside me. I felt some of it dribbling out of me and down my inner thigh.

When he left at the end of his work day, he again insisted I promise not to tell. I never saw Ben again after that.

When I wiped the grease and cum from my ass after Ben had left, there was a little blood mixed in with it, but nothing to worry about. I checked again later and there was no more blood.

In the months that followed, I grew fast, and so did my already large cock, and the cocks of my buddies, all of us racing through puberty to achieve adulthood. I even managed to get hold of a reasonable-sized dildo as a much more satisfactory replacement for the vegetables I had been using.

I also continued to spy on my Dad. It seemed to me that he jerked off almost as often as I did, for he would often head off to his bedroom or our shared bathroom for a quick wank, and often left the door ajar, making it easy for me to get an eyeful.

My Dad is a handsome man by any standards. He is in his mid-forties now, but still has a young face, and his body is quite toned from his work. He is a construction carpenter, which keeps him fit. He is dark-haired – all over! He has so much body hair he is almost an ape, but that's a turn on for me. I have very little body hair except my pubes. My hair is lighter than Dad's. I must take more after my mother's side. Her younger brother, my Uncle Kevin, is also light-haired.

Dad's good looks made spying on him even more pleasing to me

But I also got the feeling that sometimes he was also spying on me, or at least knew that I was watching him.

It all came to a head one night when he came home from work and took a shower. I had been peeping on him through the slightly ajar door from my bedroom. When Dad had dried off, I saw he had a raging hard-on. He stalked back naked into his bedroom, leaving the door open. I slipped into the bathroom he had vacated.

I could see that Dad had seated himself on his bed, still naked, and was fondling his hard cock, turned partly away from me, but I could still see him clearly.

My own cock grew very hard, and I quietly unzipped and dropped my jeans to my knees, took out my wood, and rubbed it harder, just like Dad was doing.

I had just turned sixteen and was feeling very manly and bold, and just as my Dad started to cum, I piped up in my raspy, deepening, teen-aged voice. I was also shaking from excitement and dread.

"You, know, you don't have to hide it from me when you jerk off. I know all about wanking and fucking and sex stuff."

I thought Dad was going to shit himself at first, but he recovered pretty quick and turned to me, dribbling cum down his leg and onto the bedspread.

"I figured you'd been watching me, Boy. Get on over here and sit yourself down." With my pants dropping round my ankles and my cock clutched in one hand, I waddled awkwardly over to the edge of Dad's bed. He laughed at my performance.

"Get rid of your things and let's have a serious talk," he suggested. Gratefully, I shucked off my jean jacket, kicked off my runners, pulled off my socks, and wriggled out of my jeans. Now we both sat naked on his bed.

A trail of cum still dribbled down Dad's cock, and I reached out to grasp his shaft.

"Uh, uh!' he admonished. "Did I say you can do that?" It was the tone of a chastising father, which is what he was, of course. I withdrew my hand.

"May I touch it?" I asked meekly.

"Well, we've come this far," he told me. "You might as well."

At his invitation (well, sort of) I reached out once more and grasped the rod which had made me. Even though he had just cum, his cock was hard as a rock.

"I've been spying on you, too," Dad told me as I smoothed his cum all over his shaft, enjoying the slippery texture under my hand.

"Yes, I figured so," I told him. "Did it make you horny?"

"Unfortunately, yes," he said, a little sadly, but at the same time obviously relishing my ministrations to his large penis. "Fathers and sons aren't supposed to do this sort of thing, you know – in fact, it's against the law."

"I know," I told him, "but I've been horny for you for a long time, and I've felt so guilty about it."

"I've only been horny for you for a short time," Dad told me. "Since the day I saw you jerking off with a zucchini up your bum. And I'd been blaming the rabbits! You were so busy watching yourself in the door mirror, you didn't even notice me. I really blew a load that morning!"

"Did it really make you horny?" I asked, amazed.

"Yes, It sure did," Dad assured me. He reached over and grasped my cock. "My God, you sure have grown, haven't you?"

"Did it make you want to fuck me," I persisted.

"Well … yes," he admitted, embarrassed.

"Will you fuck me now?" I asked, eagerly. I really wanted him to.

"No," he said, emphatically, shocked. "I'd hurt you. I'd tear your ass open."

"No, you wouldn't" I insisted. "I've been fucked before – and by a cock as big as yours." We were both rock hard, both fondling the other's cock.

"Well, you've got me so horny now, I'll try, but the second I'm hurting you, tell me and I'll stop," he said, but his voice was full of doubt.

Dad got a tube of something from his nightstand drawer. I didn't know what it was then, but I saw the red letters KY on the label.

"This will ease things up a bit," he told me. He had me stand and lean over his bed, propping myself up on my arms, my legs spread. The KY jelly felt cold as he rubbed it into my hole with his finger. He also rubbed a lot of it along his cock, then set himself behind me.

I felt his cock-head at my asshole, then he put his hand on my shoulder and braced me as he pressed forward. As his foreskin drew back, it let his knob rush forward into my asshole. I gave a gasp as it passed the outer ring, and another as it forced its way past the inner ring of muscle.

"Oh, yes!" I cried, "So good! Fuck me, Dad!"

His huge pole forced its way inside me, straightening my intestinal tract as it went, but it was not painful. My innards were easily readjusting themselves to allow the penetration of Dad's tool. Somehow, it was far more exciting and far more satisfying than when Ben had fucked me, or when any of my teenage fuck buds had done it. After all, this was special! This was my Dad!

Anyway, to cut a long story short, it didn't take Dad long to cum. It was a little weird that first time, knowing that the same juices that created me were now spurting into my insides. Of course, I knew they weren't going to make another new me, but I did get a feeling of fulfillment when my Dad came inside me.

When he had finished, he asked whether I wanted to do him, but I told him that could wait for another time, if there was to be another time. Dad said, "We've gone and done it now. There's no reason for us to stop, as long as this is our secret."

I readily agreed. I knew all about incest; I knew what such a charge would do to Dad and to me. I also knew that although I loved Dad very much, he was still my father, not my lover. I was still looking for the Mr. Right every guy wants to find, preferably someone my own age.

But there was something I needed to know about my father:

"Have you ever done this with another guy before?"

He took a while before he answered, "Yes," then there was another long pause.

The pause lengthened, forcing me to ask: "Who?"

After a few more long seconds, Dad confessed: "Your Uncle Kevin."

"Oh, wow!" I gasped, laying beside Dad on his bed. A lot of things leapt into place. Uncle Kevin was two years younger than his sister, my mother, but it had never before crossed my mind as being odd that Uncle Kevin and Dad spent a lot of time together; that often Uncle Kevin would sleep over at our place when his own home was less than a mile away; that for as long as I could remember Dad and Uncle Kevin would go away on business trips or fishing trips or hunting trips together, leaving me with Gramps and Grandma until I was old enough to leave at home by myself. Now I recalled that I had sometimes seen Uncle Kevin come out of Dad's room in the morning, rather than the spare room where he had gone to bed. It had never occurred to me that they had slept together, that they had been fucking.

"He was very good to me when your mother died," he explained. "It just sort of happened one night when he stayed over to comfort me and console me, and we've been fucking each other ever since. But this is another secret you've got to keep. I think it would kill Poppa Murphy to find out his only surviving child is gay - and sleeping with his dead sister's husband."

I was getting good at keeping secrets like this, and promised Dad I would never tell anyone.

"Not even Gramps!" he cautioned.

"Especially not Gramps," I agreed. Gramps had enough on his plate. Grandma had been very sick and he was doing his very best to make her comfortable, although we all knew that the cancer eating away at her was terminal.

We lay there, naked on Dad's bed, very comfortable together, exploring each other's bodies until we both got very horny again, and I fucked my Dad for the first time.

That was five years back now, and Dad and I have had sex together and slept together since then many times, but he and Uncle Kevin are more or less a permanent thing, although no-one acknowledges that theirs is more than just a family friendship. Dad told Kevin that I know about them; he also told Kevin that I'm gay, too, and now the relationship between Kevin and I is very relaxed and comfortable. I treat him sort of like an older brother, and he treats me like his kid brother. Of course, Kevin doesn't know that Dad and I get it on – or at least I don't think he does!

My Grandma died about a year ago, but before she did, I came out of the closet to both of them. Neither of them were the least bit fazed to learn their only grandson was gay.

"I guess this means I won't have any great-grandchildren to spoil," Gramps added. "Oh, well, I can still spoil you!"

But after Grandma died, he sort of collapsed in on himself. He didn't want to go anywhere, see anyone, or do anything. He became a bit of a hermit. It was hard work to convince him to come over for supper once a week.

Anyway, to bring us up to the present, just last week Dad announced,

"Hey, guess what! Gramps has said we can use the beach house for the week of my summer holidays. We haven't been there since Grandma passed away. It'll be good to go back there again."

The beach house was on a piece of beach property on the west coast of Vancouver Island. It was far enough from Victoria and other towns so that we had the beach to ourselves usually, but still close enough to the nearest small town for groceries and dining and that sort of stuff.

Gramps and Grandma had always intended to move there permanently when he retired, but they never quite got round to it, partly because it would be too far from dad and I, so they lived there it mostly just in the summer months when it was too hot in the city.

"That sounds great!" I exclaimed. "Will it be just you and me?"

"Well, I've tried to talk Gramps into coming with us, but he says it would bring back too many memories. Sot I invited Kevin. He can't get much time off work, but he will come for our first and last weekends. You can invite a boyfriend, if you want."

Although I had sometimes fantasized about a threesome with Dad and Kevin, I knew it was not really about to happen, so I leapt at the chance to invite someone my own age.

"It'll be OK if we sleep together?" I asked.

"Of course," Dad replied. "Kevin and I will be sleeping together, and I automatically presumed you'd invite a fuck buddy."

"Great," I responded. "I'll ask Poco if he wants to come." Poco was my current friend with benefits. No, he was not Mexican or anything. He got the nickname at college because he came from Port Coquitlam, a satellite city of Vancouver. He did look a little Spanish, however.

We were not really boyfriends, just friends with benefits. Our interests were all that we had in common – and sex, although I preferred blondes and Poco preferred older men. "How much older?" I asked him one time. "Older like my dad?"

"Oh, no!" Poco scoffed. "He's pretty young and the rugged type. I prefer even older, more sophisticated men – like David Niven." Poco and I were both movie buffs, so I had no trouble placing who he meant. I had seen David Niven in "Around the World in Eighty Days" and the Pink Panther films, and some light romantic comedies and war movies of the late fifties and early sixties.

"So you're looking for a sugar-daddy?" I asked.

"Shit, no!" he responded. "I don't want anything from anyone – just sex and some loving!"

So I invited Poco to join us. At least he'd get some sex from me – and vice-versa. Not only that, we had both just finished our second year at the college where we met, and neither of us had yet found summer employment. Not that either of us really needed to do so. Grandma had left me a substantial inheritance, and Poco's parents were both very rich. Unfortunately, they insisted Poco only stay for the weekends – that he must come home and look for work during the week. They didn't want him to be a spoiled rich kid. But that was OK. He could ride back to Vancouver with Kevin and return with him the following weekend.

Poco jumped at the chance to get away from them for a few days. His folks were very nice, but were always after him to give up his dreams of becoming a film director and join the family law firm, and meet a nice girl from a good family, and settle down. He had not yet come out to them, and dreaded the day when that would happen.

So, off the four of us went to Vancouver Island and the beach house. Both Dad and I tried again to get Gramps to come with us, but he wasn't having any. I think Kevin and Dad were thankful, in a way. At least they wouldn't have to hide thier relationship as they usually did.

We all rode together in Kevin's crew-cab truck rather than take two vehicles. Of course it meant Dad and I would stranded at the beach house without wheels when Kevin came back to Vancouver to work on Monday, but it meant that he he didn't have to ride alone while Poco and I rode with Dad. And anyway, there were a couple of bicyles in storage at the beach house. It also saved a hell of a bunch of money on ferry fares.

We spent most of the first day unpacking and dusting the place, which hadn't been used in over a year. Although it was isolated, we didn't have to worry much about vandals or thieves. The only road access was an easement through the neighbour's farm, and that ran right past his farmhouse. He and his wife kept a good eye out for any trespassers.

The second day dawned bright and hot, which made it perfect beach weather, and after lunch all four of us walked the hundred yards to the beach. Because the coast here was open to the Pacific, the beach was actually sandy, the rocks broken down into soft white sand, not sharp pebbles and stones like much of the British Columbia coast. The house was at the head of a large bay, also, and the water was shallow for quite a long way out, which gave it a chance to warm up the tidal waters as they flowed back and forth over the sands. In summer the water was quite bearable. We didn't need wet-suits as they did further up the coast at Long Beach and Tofino.

As the bay was basically inaccessible to others, we had it all to ourselves, and wasted no time in stripping off our bathing suits. This was actually the first time I had ever seen Kevin naked. My uncle had quite an impressive cock, even soft. My Dad was a lucky man. Even Poco eyed up the cock of the youngish man he knew solely as Kevin. Dad and I had agreed that Poco didn't really need to know that Kevin was my uncle and Dad's brother-in-law.

Poco looked really good naked, long, lean, and muscled nicely. I admired his bod as we lay round on the beach while Dad and Kevin frolicked in the warm, shallow water. Too bad he preferred older men, because I could willingly give up my penchant for blondes if Poco ever wanted to go beyond "friends-with-benefits."

After a while, I could feel my pale skin starting to burn under the heat from the summer sun. I had Poco rub tanning lotion into my back while I lay prone on a beach towel.

"Yes, I wouldn't want you to get so burned that I can't lay on your back and fuck you tonight," he joked. "But actually, it's me I'm more worried about. I can already feel myself burning a little."

"But you're far darker-skinned than I am," I remonstrated. "You almost look like a real Mexican."

"Don't let that fool you," he told me. "Dark skin doesn't mean you don't burn. In fact, I have a really dark negro friend who gets badly sunburned really easily. I'm much the same. As a matter of fact, do you mind if I go back to the house before I get too cooked? I think I'd also like to take a nap. You kept me pretty busy last night."

It had been a busy night for both of us, the first time we had spent a whole night together. I lost count of how many times each of us had cum in the other's mouth or asshole!

"You want me to come with you?" I asked.

"Oh, no," he replied. "I'm sure I won't get lost, and I really do need a bit of a nap. I'm sure you'll keep me awake most of the night again tonight, and I have to be up early to ride with Kevin tomorrow morning."

"OK," I agreed. I watched him unnecessarily pull on his bathing trunks and head off to the house. His ass looked very inviting as he left, but we did have all week. I knew we would be at each other again tonight.

I spent about another hour on the beach with Dad and Kevin, all three of us naked. But after a while Dad and Kevin spread their beach towels side by side and lay there together in the warm sand under the warm sun. It started out with just a little gentle touching and fondling, soft caresses, but soon it became obvious from their hardening cocks that this was leading up to more, so I tactfully said I was heading back to the house to give them some breathing space.

I was hoping Poco might be ready to play some more, but when I entered the house he was not on the ground floor. I assumed he was upstairs sleeping. I started up the stairs to check in on him, but as I did I heard some noises coming from the bedroom we shared. It was the sound of two voices. Both were muffled, but the younger one I took to be Poco's. All I could tell about the other was that it was the voice of an older man. I couldn't hear what was said, if anything was said, because it seemed to be the sounds of two men having sex. I crept up to the door, and carefully opened it a crack. I could just make out Poco's naked back as he vigorously fucked the man on the bed, who was obscured from my sight by Poco's thrusting body. As he came to a climax, Poco pulled out of the older ass and left his cum fly, but I could still not see who was there with him. I carefully shut the door and tiptoed back downstairs.

Who could Poco be fucking? I wondered. The only possibility that came to mind was the farming neighbour, Mr. Brown. He was married, but I had seen him is the past eying up my crotch when he had dropped by for a neighbourly visit. I figured he had the hots for young guys like me. I presumed that was who it must be. Who else would he have run into way out here?

I pottered around downstairs making myself a snack, trying to ignore the rather lusty sounds of more sexual adventures going on upstairs. The twosome were certainly not quiet about what they were up to.

They must have been playing 'turn about' because now I could hear the unmistakeable sounds of Poco being fucked. As I knew from experience, he was very vocal when taking a cock up his ass. He was also loud. We must have been quite entertaining for Kevin and Dad when we two were going at it the previous night. Now it was my turn to listen in.

It was while Poco was getting louder and louder that Dad and Kevin arrived back from the beach, still naked, carrying their towels and bathing suits. By the look of their tumescent and damp-looking cocks they had probably just finished a fuck session of their own, but they didn't fail to appreciate the noises coming from upstairs.

"Who's he got up there with him?" Dad asked, puzzled, seeing me sitting at the kitchen breakfast bar sucking on a pop.

"I'm not sure," I told him. "It's an older guy. I think it must be Mr. Brown from next door."

"Farmer Brown?" Dad mused. "I didn't think he went in for guys."

"I'm not sure about that either, but I have noticed him eyeing me up."

As we pondered the puzzle, Poco's sex cries reached a climax. But he and the man fucking him must have reached a climax. We all grinned, and listened for what would happen next. There were sounds of footsteps and a muttered conversation, movements. We heard a door open, and more footsteps coming to the top of the stairs.

Poco appeared first, wearing just his underpants, and then, behind him, also in undies, the older man. All three of us recognized the familiar figure at the same time:

"Jim!" Kevin exclaimed.

"Pop!" cried Dad.

"Gramps!" I gasped out, stunned.