Eli, Eli. . .
Eli, Eli. . .
By Z-JAM-C
(Story, place names and characters are copyrighted to me, so don't try anything, dammit!)
And yeah, this IS for those of 18 and older, so scram kiddies.
The day was quite cold, very cold for anyone to breathe in. The air seemed to hang around the area like ghosts with mysterious agendas, as it was breathed in by a furson, but suddenly materialising as icicles inside one's throat. The sky was overcast, purely grey as far as anyone's eyes could see. The mountains beyond the town limits were peaked with snow, covering most of them except for a few patches, like a badly-stitched balaclava. The town itself was free of snow, but the air still flowed through the town with a wandering instinct, past houses of glazed bricks and gardens of stiff grass and crystalline flowers. The town of Dunadin was a normal place to expect of a Scottish town. Cold flowing air, badly iced roads and the eternally grey sky, an unfinished wet canvas ready to be torn apart by paintbrushes of blue and white, when the cloud passed away to show the sun again. Dunadin was built four hundred years ago as a market town on the eastern coast of Scotland (for the sea was only about 18 miles away) and was usually bustling with sailors or tradesman on their way to the ports past Dunadin. But not nowadays. The town was merely like most other market towns in Scotland. Semi-serene, perhaps quaint and only a few buildings of historic interest. One such building, and the main setting of this story, is the house at Number 5 Muir Road. In this house live only two fursons. Mrs Moira Campbell, a plump red fox of hazelnut eyes, scruffy neckfur and luxurious tail with a pure white tip, and her son Eli. At this moment, they have finished their breakfast and the young boy of 10 years old was now heading off to watch Cartoon Network.
'Bet you're happy school's off an' all,' said his mother, smiling both inwards and outwards of being at home, standing with arms crossed in her blue jumper and red woollen trousers.
'Aye, ma. When the snow comes, you can't do anything about it. Guess I have to just. . .' and the boy's smile grew more in secret, 'have to make do without school today.'
'Away with ye, Eli! You're lovin' this, and I ken you are!' Moira then watched her son head off happily skipping to the TV set in the next room.
Eli Campbell was a cross between a fox, showing his mother's eyes and her silken tail, and a kangaroo, from the sight of his father's large feet and sandy fur and face. His father had been dead for 2 years or so, dying in the Herkland War when he was ambushed in his own tent, killed alongside all his belongings. It was a grievous blow to his mother, but she recovered well, for she merely counted her blessings and thanked herself she had a nice house and a wondrous son. She looked at him now, face beaming of brown eyes, his face so like her husband's with the smooth chin, cheekily-curved ears and soft muzzle. He was wearing a green T-shirt that read "Save the Rainforest" and black cotton trousers, along with a silver chain on his neck. She remembered how her husband, Jason, and her son were very close together. Perhaps because he got more things from his father or it was a male bond but it was safe to say that when Eli first knew of his father's death, he lamented in his room for five days, pleading to the sky for his father to come back. And when his father did not come back, he went into a coma for two days. Now everything seemed fine with the family, but Moira always worried about her son. He was sensitive and inexperienced with the world. She hoped he wouldn't grow up too fast, for it might be painful for him, and truthfully her as well.
Now the night of the next day, August 19, was an influential day to Eli the fox-roo child. It was the day he knew of his father's death. Jason died on June 22, and it was a long time until the army could tell his family when communications were compromised for a short while. When Eli heard of the date he felt frightened for he had a dream of his father on the 23rd of June that same year. He remembered it vividly. His father was there walking towards him through the fog of a grey space, seemingly in the middle of non-existence where all dreams of this kind are set in. Eli waved to his father but he did not wave back. He seemed to be crying, not outwardly, but the tears freely flowed down his face, becoming small rivulets of sadness that echoed loudly on the floor, like water in a deep cave. As each tear was shed from his father's brown muzzle, the boy felt his silver chain become more and more wet. He tasted the chain and found the moisture to be salty, like his father's tears. He then woke up, clasping his necklace in confusion.
But now it was August 19, and he hated this day. No, hate is too strong a word. He was never happy on this day. Some have days where they are suddenly happy and let nothing get them down, and other days where they are so dragged down by the chains of depression, they become quite lethargic, lacking energy to even smile. The 19th day of August was Eli's depressed day. Thankfully, his mother knew this and respected that, so she left him alone with his own thoughts, which were oddly sombre for a 10-year old. He lay in his bed, staring at the white ceiling where lied small cracks (as usual with buildings that span back to at least 200 years) and he once again grieved for his father. He looked upwards, his eyes unfocused as he recited a small prayer he made for himself.
'To whoever lies in the farthest realm, bring my father back, safely home.' It was a short prayer, but an honest one. Eli knew of his deep bond with his father, but not for the reasons his mother thought. Either a sharing of appearance or male bonding, but it was in a similar, if not, more personal level. But now, Eli Campbell had to retrace his memory of his entire time with his father. Every night on the 19th of every two months, he would recount the things he did with Jason. And this night, he went to the most earliest memory he could fully remember of.
Back when he was 5 years old, his father walked into his room while his mother was away (this she did often on nightly jobs that lasted from 11pm to 2 or 3am). Eli had been getting nightmares again and it was up to the father to banish them from his son's mind. He walked in quietly, walking in a respectful manner like a monk in a hallowed temple. When he reached his son's bedside, he knelt down, and spoke softly to his son's tear-stained cheek, hushing him once more that the monsters were gone, and they would not return tonight. His son always felt better by his soothing voice and gentle hands. But on one night, his father walked in for the usual banishment of nightmares, when his son had to giggle at the emerged inch of pink between Jason's legs (for he always slept naked and never took the time to put on clothes, but instead rushing to save his son's sleep). Jason had been horny that night, and he felt embarrassed. Not by his size, he was quite good in length, but embarrassed for it being out before his son. He giggled with him, and he felt a strange thought in his mind. A thought which told him of how beautiful his son was. His mother's eyes and such a soft tail, along with the handsome body and equally handsome face. He was almost unconscious when his length began to grow, in view of his son's nakedness in the bed. He had felt this for his son before, but nothing of this magnitude. He then, as if beyond his will, asked his son to touch it if he wanted to. Eli, now awake then and not going to sleep anytime soon, did so. He felt it being quite warm, really warm, but dry at first. It shivered slightly by the soft touch of the little paw and Jason had to moan at it. He comforted his son to say that this felt nice, and Eli had to agree. Out of curiosity, the boy began to rub it, and his father moaned in pleasure, the words 'don't stop' slipping out of his mouth, this time with no resistance. So Eli rubbed his father's cock more and more, feeling it become more and more warm, until it was fully erect and slightly wet from the emergence of precum. It was a thin 7 1/2 inched penis, and Eli had to wow at its sight, as children always do when they find something new and unusual. His father smiled and chuckled softly, stroking his son's head comfortingly as he felt something more emerge in his thoughts. He clambered onto the bed gently, sitting with legs tucked under his body, and asked his son if he wanted to taste his penis. Eli was always curious and whenever an opportunity of a new thing came up, he took it (which was why his mother worried about him for his inexperience of the world). The boy moved up to the glistening cock, looking like a blood-filled obelisk at close range now, suspended from a sheath where rested the two testicles above it. Eli took one lick, waited, then took two.
He felt the weak but palatable salty taste of precum on his tongue and thought it was good. He then began to lick more and more on his father's length, as Jason moaned quietly at the soft tongue of his son, not believing at the situation he was in, but finding nothing at all wrong. His son was enjoying this, as was he. Once again, his mouth betrayed him, quietly begging Eli to suck him now. Eli did so, finding no reason to stop as he enjoyed the taste of his cum, and the proximity of his father. As long as he was near his father doing something good, the nightmares were gone from him. But he wasn't thinking of nightmares anymore. He moved his small hands along the cock moving it down slightly as his father bent lay down forwards. Eli then was under him, licking and sucking the dick with pleasure, moaning quietly to the taste, like he did in his earlier youth with his mother's teat. Jason moaned more louder, his son's warm and gentle mouth caressing two or three inches of his pulsing cock which pleaded for more of the gentle strokes of that young and silken tongue in that small brown muzzle. He had to greatly resist his urge to hump his son's mouth, and instead became busy with stroking Eli's tail, rubbing his fingers along the soft length of fur, sending feelings of peace through his fingertips. He became more amorous and reached further down the tail, down to the thin tailbase and eventually reaching past that to his small anus. He had another idea, and so asked his son to climb on his stomach. Eli stopped sucking, almost grudgingly, and let his father lie with his back on the bed, and the fox-roo boy clambered on him.
'What can we do now, da?' asked Eli there and then.
'Well, I'll let you keep sucking me, if you let me lick you.' said his father, in that complacent and breath-like voice which all recognised the sound of. Eli smiled and agreed, as Jason moved him around, so he faced the wet and slick seven-and-a-half inches, which he continued to suckle gratefully, desiring for the male milk of his father. Jason became interested in his son's tailhole, as he took a careful lick at the puckered rosebud, which quivered with a gasp from his son. Eli looked back and smiled cheekily, feeling as if he was playing a prank and his father was an accomplice. Jason took his stand and licked the hole more, roving his tongue along the brown-furred buttcheeks, which he spread slightly with both hands to reveal the pink ring below the fluffy red tail. He licked furiously, lashing his tongue across it, and beginning to take a little probe into the tightness. When he first poked his tongue inside his son, Eli gasped again with a slight whoop, sniggering at the funny feeling of Jason's tongue, telling aloud how it was like a nice tickle. Jason continued, moaning into the cute butt, which made his tongue vibrate somewhat, and Eli began to pant, unconsciously becoming aware of the sexual feelings that nature gave him. Eventually, after a few minutes of slow anal sucking, his father moved downwards to Eli's undeveloped testicles, merely licking along them, again lashing his tongue left and right across him, which made his son laugh, the giggles bubbling through his father's cock, which felt so good to him. Soon, he knew he would cum and he didn't want to gag Eli, so he patiently but breathlessly asked:
'Eli, get off me a minute, I have to do something.' with a whimper, the small boy on top of him came off and Jason moved Eli back where he was in bed, but not putting the sheets over him. He then sat up again and asked his son:
'Do you want all of my milk, Eli?' his son vigorously nodded and Jason clasped his cock with one hand. 'Okay, but this time, it's quite salty, okay?' he then furiously masturbated in front of his son, panting and moaning in pleasure of the feelings his penis had gone through. Soon, his dick tightened its muscles and ejaculated the first amount of semen he used in six months. It was such a pleasure to him, and he saw the white stream splatter all over his son's small naked body, who was smiling and giggling as it spread and stuck into his fur. He squirted it along Eli's chest and face, smiling in gasps at the sight. Eli began to lick the stuff off his face, and he went "blegh" at its salty taste, which made his father chuckle once more. Then, Jason clambered to his son, and began to lick off his own cum off his son's body, tasting him along his chest, face, legs, crotch (in which he suckled his son's penis a little bit) and arms. He then gave his son a kiss on the lips, merely replying:
'I love you, Eli. I am so glad I have a son like you.'
'I love you too daddy.' Eli was merely saying this on the level of son and father, but Jason meant this along with another meaning, that he himself only was learning of. They then locked each other in a long kiss, Jason taking his son's tongue into his mouth and suckling it oh-so-gently, moaning into Eli once more. As their kiss lasted for five or possibly ten minutes, the father kangaroo broke it and then left for his bed, saying goodnight to his son Eli.
Now, five years later, the child had understood of his father's love for him. His mother never knew about this, and he had no reason to tell her, for he did not wish to accidentally tarnish the name of his dear father, Jason. He then felt sleepy and relaxed in his bed, the same bed where he first became closer than anyone else did to Jason. He was glad to wear the silver chain on him, and it glowed almost powerfully.
Jason was wearing it on that one night 5 years ago. As the small fox-roo began to feel the world of sleep encroach upon his mind, he felt a comforting atmosphere in his room. An atmosphere of loving protection against any nightmares that wished to visit him.