Date: Sat, 23 Jun 2007 04:52:59 -0400 From: Nifty Cub Subject: DAD ON THE CAN: PART 2 Note: This story contains adult content. If this offends you, do not read it. DAD ON THE CAN: PART 2 That night I got home from work a couple hours late. Dad was on the La-Z-Boy watching a re-run game. I played baseball in college and loved catching a game on TV with dad. I headed to the fridge and popped open a beer, opened up my shirt collar and plunked my shoes off. "Dad, need a beer?" "No, son, just started this one." There were five empty cans on the counter, so he had a head start. Some nights when I got home really late, there was a trail of empty 16 oz. cans in the kitchen, the living room, and the top of the toilet. The sight of those cans made me feel a funny kind of affection for dad, though when I dumped our recycling bin I sometimes wondered what the neighbors thought. No mystery where he and I got our bellies. You could definitely tell that we were father and son. We used to get mistaken for brothers, although since the divorce a couple years ago, dad has gotten a little more salt and pepper. We both have square jaws and ears that stick out a bit - that's one thing people notice when we're standing together. We've got meat on our bones, stocky, muscular guys, and pretty hairy. Dad showed me how to shave at age 11 and not long after that hair was sprouting all over my chest, ass, and back. I still haven't had to start shaving my ears like him, though. He's a hairy fucker. It grows on his shoulders and sticks out the collar of his shirt. Besides beer cans, dad leaves a trail of dark curly hairs all over the apartment. They are unavoidable in the shower and the recliner in the living room. Sometimes they turn up in surprising places, like when I'm buttering my toast at breakfast. I took off my work shirt as I headed into the living room and dropped onto the couch with a groan. Dad was cracking his ankles on the recliner chair, watching one of his star players at bat. He was lounging in dark socks, gym shorts, and a tank top riding over the bottom of his hairy belly. It looked like the game was in the seventh inning, and I caught up on replays while dad excused himself to the bathroom for a smoke and piss. I saw him swagger a step off the recliner as he headed away. While dad was in the bathroom, I got out of my work trousers and threw them off the side of the couch. I noticed the end of a plastic bag sticking out from the back of the couch, which was odd because I usually hid it pretty well. That was my spot for a couple titty magazines and a bottle of lube. I pushed the bag farther behind, hoping dad hadn't found it, although I didn't care too much since I discovered his stash under his bed long ago. The apartment was very hot, and I was fine lounging in my boxers. I took a swig of the cold beer. Dad came out the bathroom door past a cloud of cigarette smoke and crawled onto the recliner. Between me and him, the pile of empty beer cans was pretty impressive by the end of the night. Dad announced bedtime and got up from the recliner, scratching his belly and flicking off the tube. I burped when I got off the couch and opened the hideaway for bed. "Good night, son," he mumbled, ambling to his nice air-conditioned bedroom. "Night, dad. Sleep tight." I woke up sweaty in the middle of the night with a throbbing bladder and a huge piss hardon. I reached for the edge of the couch, stumbled up, and took a few lurches toward the bathroom. My head was throbbing and my boner was sticking straight out the crotch of my boxers. I tucked it back in before I grabbed the doorknob. I'm glad I did, because what I saw as I opened the door gave me a big surprise. A wave of hot air slammed my face, smelling like cigarette smoke, body odor, and something like scrotum. Dad was sitting on the toilet and flinched, flushed and surprised. I stammered out a sorry and slammed the door behind me. "Oh fuck! Sorry, dad." He chuckled behind the door and I heard the sound of him getting onto his feet. "Be right out." I had seen him for just a second, but the bright bathroom light seared the picture on my brain. Dad was fully naked and absolutely covered with cum. No mistaking it. There were white ropes of semen streaking all the way up to the shoulders. It must have been a pint of the stuff. The deep indentation between the dome of his belly and the slabs of his pecs and shoulders was soaked. The area all around his navel was a whole lot of black fur swimming in spooge. One hand was still gripping his dick and it looked like it was dunked into a vat. Cum spilled over his knuckles and was drooling onto his hip. His face was a totally flushed mixture of bliss and embarrassment. I also was bright red with embarrassment. My heart was hammering in my ribs as I backed away into the living room. I was a little blind from the bright light in the bathroom and kicked over a couple beer cans backing up. "Fuck," I stammered again. Dad swung open the door. "And watch your mouth," he said, closing the bedroom door behind him with a chuckle. He was gone before I had a chance to say anything. The bathroom door was wide open, and in the light I could see stale smoke spilling out into the kitchen and living room. I went in and stood over the toilet waiting for my hardon to go down, but all I could think about was the smell of dad in the tiny room and the sight of him covered in ejaculate. What a fucking load. I gave my cock one hard stroke and an enormous drool of precum fell in the toilet with a plop. I didn't care that dad's bedroom adjoined the bathroom wall. I broke into a frenzied jackoff, hunching over the toilet, arching onto the balls of my feet, grinding my hips, and panting like a sonovabitch, eyes on my cock. Glancing to the counter, my heart lurched. Dad surely didn't mean to leave it out - there was a tub of Vaseline sitting on the sink with the lid off. I reached in for a scoop and discovered a few black hairs stuck in the goo. That was it. I slathered the stuff all over my cock, pounded away with my right arm and rubbed the sweaty fur on my front side with the left. My nutsack pulled in tight and thick, and I felt a great throbbing sensation inside me right between my asshole and ballsack. The thick slurpy sound of my stroking was echoing off the bathroom loudly. I noticed the window above the sink was open but I didn't give a fuck. I saw my reflection in the mirror, furry pecs flexing with each stroke, neck and face beet red with a couple veins bulging. I moved my eyes back down to my cock and raised on the balls of my feet one last time. The buildup churned really hard. I felt my thighs, neck and face start to tingle. It was too much and I pointed toward the toilet. "Awwwww, FUCCCCKKKKKK!!!" My choked snarls echoed off the walls. I heard myself going 'unh, unh, UNH' and watched with disbelief as the first three shots totally missed the bowl of the toilet and slammed the wall and the tank with an audible sound. I closed my eyes and stumbled toward the toilet as the rest of the shots volleyed out. I had to support myself with one arm on the wall as the rest of my orgasm played itself out. I stood over the toilet panting and opened my eyes. My cock was still jerking. I wiped up what I could and threw the wad of toilet paper into the bowl with a plop. I almost shut the window when I had one last better idea. I sat down onto the toilet, pulled out one of dad's cigarettes and lit up. I puffed. The rush of orgasm blended into the cigarette high. I closed the lid on the Vaseline and threw it under the sink. I stood up, taking the last few puffs my smoke, and threw the butt into the toilet. My long awaited piss thundered into the bowl and the butt dated around in the water. I flushed, turned off the light, and groped my way back to the couch, boxers less tented, but still with a wet spot.