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Subject: Naval Tradition Revised – prologue Naval Tradition REVISED EDITION Bill Drake (billdrake@hotmail) NOTICE: THE FOLLOWING IS FOR ADULTS ONLY. It is gay erotic fiction explicitly depicting sexual acts between male relatives. If that offends or disturbs you, read no further. If not, sit back, unzip, pull it out, and enjoy. For more of my stories, see the Authors page here at Nifty archive. Thanks to all the great work that the Nifty Archive does. Please consider supporting them with a donation. PREFACE I wrote Naval Tradition over the course of almost fifteen years. It wasn’t autobiographical, but in a sense I grew up as a writer with Jim McGrath. I had only a dim idea of where the story would go when I started, but it evolved as I added to it. It ended up being my longest story, by far, and one of my most popular. 47 chapters later, there were a lot of loose ends in the sprawling result, and too many errors, so I’ve decided to put out a streamlined, retconned version. The revised edition is told in chronological order and adjusts some of the earlier chapters. Gone is the brother-on-brother action (sorry, guys), but I’ve given the story a more even development. Some readers may prefer the old Naval Tradition, and the older version will remain for them. I loved the feedback on this one, and some of readers like Cody and AJ helped me in the writing. Feel free to drop a line if you enjoy ail. My goal is to have a new revised chapter out every couple of days. I hope to have an ebook version at the end of this, so you can let me know if you want to be on the mailing list for that. Naval Tradition PROLOGUE Spring Break 2004 My dad and I were sitting on the flight from Atlanta to the Yucatan. I had barely made my connecting flight from Charlottesville, I’d been up drinking with my roommate Charlie and a couple of guys who had yet to take off for their Spring Break, and I was feeling and looking pretty hungover when Dad emerged from his connector from Norfolk. My father, Robert McGrath, is a career naval officer, currently rank of Captain. ┼či┼čli travesti I wouldn’t say Dad looked young for his 47 years, but he was definitely well preserved. Full head of light brown hair, now flecked with speckles of silver, that he still kept cut navy-regulation short. A square jaw, high brow and a prominent Roman nose framed his handsome face that radiated the experience of his years, yet his eyes and smile still hinted at a youthful playfulness occasionally ready to break out from the gruff, naval officer exterior. “Why don’t you take a nap, son?” he asked as the plane reached cruising altitude. “Looks like you could use one.” His smoky blue eyes bored into mine. I didn’t even bother to respond to the invitation, I just shut my eyes and nodded off. It felt comforting there, in those big cushy first class seats, feeling the warmth of Dad’s arm against mine and his presence beside me. When I snapped out of my dozing state, I realized my head had leaned on his shoulder and was using his firm delt muscle as my pillow. Dad hadn’t woken me up or shifted me. As I opened my eyes fully, I had the most marvelous sight. My father’s button-down plaid shirt had its top two buttons undone, and the flaps billowed out slightly, giving me a direct sightline down the hairy valley between his mountainous pecs. I’m not kidding, his chest is awe inspiring. From his suit coat size, I knew it measured 48 inches around, nearly spherical mounds of muscle that stick out from the shield of his torso like a shelf jutting forth just above the swell of his firm belly. And a dense forest of hair populating the whole expanse, coating every solid inch expect for the fat dark-pink nipples which were the crowning glory. I couldn’t see those as I rested my head in the crook of my old man’s neck, but the furry swell of muscle was turning me on. Down, further, I soaked in the view of his powerful abdomen and his thighs spread slightly, quad muscle trapped in his jeans. And between them was the sizable mound of his genitals, either he wasn’t wearing underwear or beylikd├╝z├╝ travesti else his boxers were paper thin, because his giant nuts were clearly visible beneath the stalk of his full-sized meat. I sucked in a breath of steamy air and BAM! his scent filled my nostrils. Deep, clean, musky all at once, with a strong hint of familiar cologne. I can’t put it another way, Dad smelled like a Man should. I’d savored that odor my whole time growing up, every time he’d let me sit in his lap while doing the crossword or watching the game. Only now, it took on a deeper resonance. And made me hard. I shifted uncomfortably as my boner started to awaken under the narrow layer of my mesh baseball shorts. I heard, no felt, a chuckle emerge deep from within Dad’s chest. “Looks like Slugger’s awake.” That was Dad’s nickname for me, Slugger or sometimes Jimbo. I looked up into his face as he stared into my eyes. Just then I felt his foot against my ankle. I wasn’t wearing socks, and I guess Dad wasn’t either. He’d taken off his loafers while I was napping and now ran his bare foot against the soft hairs on my shin. My dick responded appreciatively, seizing up into a full-throttle hardon. Shit, I wasn’t sure how I was going to make it through this flight. I knew I should break free of contact with Dad, it was just going to leave me with the most frustrating case of blue balls ever. The past couple of weeks, I’d been wondering if anything was going to happen between us on this trip. The feel of Dad’s foot against me bare skin though gave me a good idea the answer was yes. I couldn’t resist. As I leaned up into an upright seating position, I used one sneaker to remove the other, freeing my bare foot to touch Dad’s. I remember the first time I kissed him, really met his lips with mine, like lovers. I now felt a hint of that same excitement as our toes caressed each other’s in the silence of the first class cabin. It was furtive, forbidden, and all the more exquisite for it. I wanted to kiss this man so bad. He knew it too, as he looked me deep in the istanbul travesti eye and maneuvered his left hand right onto my crotch. I looked down. My cock’s real fat, a nice superwide seven incher almost as big around as a Coke bottle when fully hard. Dad’s hand was big too, though, a wide paw with thick, muscular fingers that closed around the contour of my now excited prick. I shut my eyes and bit my lip to stifle a groan, but Dad didn’t ease up. He gripped my bone and leaned over to whisper low in my ear. “Pull your briefs up, Slugger.” This was crazy, and I had a fear that we’d get caught. But the cabin was quiet and no one was in the seat opposite us. I reached down and gripped the hem of my boxer briefs and slid it up my thigh. Dad’s knuckle meanwhile was nudging my erection downward, toward an angle pointing down my leg. It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but it felt good to feel it press free of the confines of my briefs and right into Dad’s strong grip. Much as his left foot rubbed against my right, so did his hand jerk and squeeze my cock to maximum pleasure with minimum motion. I couldn’t believe he was going to jerk me off right there on the plane. The inappropriateness what Dad was doing to me just drove me wilder in lust. Reaching up, I gripped the ball of bicep through his cotton shirt sleeve. In time to his rhythmic and vice-like grip on my dick, I held onto his massive arm with my hand. Dad was almost methodical. Keeping an eye out and looking straight ahead in a nonchalant fashion, he stroked my dick, which barely stuck out of my shorts. The angle kept me from cumming too quickly, but I was turned on as fuck. Dad kept this up for a good five minutes, a serious look on his face, til I couldn’t take any more. I swear the cum stung in its heat and alkalinity as it pulsed through my surging piss tube. Dad just gripped tighter, right beneath the flare of the head, while I shot my jock seed all over the fur on my thighs. Heavy thick shots, too. I did my best to keep quiet as I had the orgasm of the century. Dad fished out a spare napkin he’d stashed in the seat pocket and offered it to me. Then, quickly, he tossed a magazine in my lap. “Better cover up, Slugger,” he whispered in my ear as a flight attendant started walking down the aisle. That was the start of an unforgettable week.

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