Date: Wed, 10 Jul 2019 03:37:14 +0000
From: dadcompletesme@protonmail.com
Subject: Discovering Papa - Part One

Reader Note: This is an unexpected expected encounter between a grandfather
and his grandson and an exploration of their love and desires.  If this
offends you or if you are not of legal age, then please do not read this.
If you have comments, please email me at dadcompletesme@protonmail.com. I'd
love to hear from you.  Also, please give to Nifty, your support keeps it
going!


It was Spring Break and my grandparents were in town for a month. They
lived 1400 miles away and unless we drove to see them or they drove over to
see us, we only saw them a couple times a year; usually one of the bigger
holidays. I loved when they came to visit. So did my younger siblings. It
was like having an extended Easter or Thanksgiving and we looked forward to
coming home from school and getting to hang out with them. This particular
Easter I was in the fifth grade.

My grandparents were awesome. They had outgoing personalities that made
them seem much younger than their age. They still loved traveling, hiking,
looking for new restaurants and art events as much as they loved being
active. It was obvious where my Dad developed the same traits. He and his
siblings also got my grandparents' good looks. At grandpa's age I suppose
many wouldn't call him a looker, but he was handsome to me. I guess I say
that because people usually don't think of older men like that in that way,
but I hoped when his age I was as put together as he was. He was 6', I
assumed about 200 pounds, and you could tell that he loved being outdoors
and staying fit. He used to play football when he was younger and Mimi was
in track back in school so long ago and later coached the local high
school.

Mimi and Papa often took long walks in the morning, sometimes jogging a
bit. Their walks were usually the kind you came back sweaty from because of
the pace they went. Sometimes I got to join them, or just Papa. I know he
slowed down his pace when it was just him and me, but I took every chance I
could get to spend time together. I didn't get to see them often enough,
and they always took an interest in our lives. We were little adults to
them. Or that's how I felt. I know we were really lucky. And while I'm
being so honest, I really liked the long sweaty walks because I'd often get
to see Papa take his shirt off in the hallway on the way to the shower when
we got home; sometimes even during the walks when it was really hot. That
always turned me on and I'd have to find a way to not stare all the time.

I loved the idea of getting to watch Papa play ball, so whenever I would go
to their house I loved looking through their old photos. Papa was very
handsome then. Okay, hot. And while I couldn't yet shoot cum, I already
knew how to jerk off from spying on Dad (another story to come), so I'd
sneak away when I could, sometimes taking a picture of him with me, and
jerk off over and over to the idea of seeing him naked back then and doing
things with him I'd seen women doing to men in Dad's porn mags. I would
have done them with him no matter his age. Not matter mine.

My family has always been very affectionate and I think that's made us all
even closer. We always hug and kiss, even now, and it wasn't unusual to
cuddle up with Papa or Mimi on the couch or read books together in bed. My
parents loved how close we all were. Dad always hoped we'd have this bond
like he did with his grandparents, so to see it with his own parents made
him so happy.

We all loved them, but my brother and sister seemed to have a special bond
with Mimi, which was great because it allowed me more time with Papa when I
could. Especially when it came to cuddling. I loved when he'd put an arm
over me or across my shoulder and whisper, "How's my favorite boy doing?"
or "It's okay, you can cuddle up closer kiddo." Sometimes he'd
absentmindedly rub my shoulder or the back of my neck. I so desperately
wanted to believe these were subtle come-ons over the years, grooming me to
be closer with him, but they weren't. One day a few years later I asked
him, and he genuinely said he didn't mean it that way. That he just loved
the bond we had and knew how much he loved me. After what I'm going to
write about happened, his feelings about his touch and affection meant a
whole lot more. It became as much about love as it was about turning each
other on. That's why I was grateful we'd always been so affectionate. No
one would think that the way we interacted was any different, but for Papa
and me, it became a way of being incredibly aroused and affirming our
special secret without anyone knowing.

I know some of you want me to get to the "good stuff," but Papa was never
just a way to get off. Once we both made our unexpected discovery together,
it was always about our relationship together and it made what ended up
happening even more special. Even if sometimes it was more urgent than
romantic.



It had been about a week and a half weeks into Mimi and Papa's visit when
my life with Papa changed forever. Well, at first how I saw him, and then
my life with him. We'd been our usual selves. It was like every other
visit. A house full of excitement, great food, family games, movies,
cuddling, going out on adventures together, and sometimes just us alone
with each of our grandparents. I know some kids didn't have grandparents
like mine. I wished they all did. There was nothing old and boring about
them.

It wasn't unusual for me to stay up in the living room now and then to keep
playing my video games or read a book by the gas fireplace. I knew how to
shut it off and had earned everyone's trust to do that a long time ago. Dad
always said I was surprisingly mature for my age. I loved when he'd say
that. Anyway, one night I had fallen asleep by accident and woke up to the
sound of Papa walking quietly back to his room through the kitchen. Our
house was built so that past the kitchen on one end and straight down a
short hall past the door to the garage was a full bath and another
bedroom. There was a pocket door that closed off that section to keep the
noise down, but Mimi and Papa never closed it.

I was still in a sleep haze and it took me some time to wake up a bit more
to even go upstairs. I have no idea how long I laid there for a bit. When I
got up I looked up at the clock and realized I'd only been asleep for an
hour or so when I saw Papa. I also noticed that Papa must have come in and
shut the fireplace off and draped a blanket over me. I figured he woke up
to get water or something and saw me out in the living room and came over
and "tucked me in."

After lying there a little bit longer and thinking about how lucky I was to
have Papa and how he looked out for me, I thought maybe I'd see if he was
still awake to thank him and give him another kiss goodnight. I folded up
the blanket, and in case he was already back to sleep, I quietly went down
the hall to his room. They always kept their bedroom door open, so it'd be
easy to see if he was awake or not.  Looking back, thank God I was quiet,
because what I saw was a complete shock, and something I'd have not gotten
to see had I made noise coming down the hall.

First, you need to know that the bedroom was arranged so the back of the
bed was against the wall along the hallway.  That way when you walked in,
on your left was a nightstand, then the bed, and another nightstand. On the
opposite wall were the dressers. This arrangement meant that instead of
seeing all of Mimi and Papa on a bed when we walked into the room to say
good morning, you pretty much saw them from stomach down to their feet
first and then we'd beeline for the bed and jump in. This meant that as I
peeked into the room, Papa couldn't see me, but I could see him; even more
of him since I was at the edge of the doorway.

Why is this important? Because since my eyes were already adjusted to the
darkness, as I looked to see if Papa was awake, instead of seeing him
cuddled up to Mimi like always, thinking everyone was asleep, Papa's covers
were pushed down to his knees...and right there in front of me, right there
feet away, he had his cock in his hand and was stroking it. I froze in
place not wanting to make a sound. I even forgot to breathe. My heart was
racing and my body immediately started shaking, filled with so many
emotions. Despite being worried I'd be caught, my body reacted like it
would when I spied on Dad jerking off, my own little boy cock got rock hard
and there was no way I could take my eyes off of him. Not even if he
noticed me and asked me to leave.

I actually felt like I might pass out. I knew I loved Papa with all my
heart and I knew I had a crush on him, but I knew I'd never see him naked
to even glimpse at what made Dad, but here he was, feet away from me,
shirtless, his boxers pushed under his balls, and his cock, very hard in
his hand that was sliding up and down the length of it. I was trembling. I
knew for sure my shaking would make a noise against the wall and let him
know I was there.  I'd spied on Dad more times than I could count, but I
was never this close to him. Never. It felt like I could almost take one or
two steps and touch it. A few hours ago Papa and I were cuddled on the
couch together under the blanket watching a movie, and now I was feet away
from him and he became someone like Dad had in his porn magazines. He went
from just a crush to one of the men I would look at in the magazines. Men
who women made feel good. A man I wanted to make feel good. How was I ever
going to cuddle up with him again and not think about what I was
seeing. About how big his cock was? About how his hand looked stroking it
as he rubbed his chest or pulled on his balls?

My knees were weak. They buckled a bit. I was scared to death but I
couldn't move. I knew I had to see this until he was done. I'd seen Dad
enough to know that when he started this he'd never stop without shooting
his cum out. My brain was a spinning mess. If Dad always finished himself
off, that meant I was going to see Papa cum tonight. It was almost too much
and part of me wanted to leave. I didn't.

I did my best to hold my breath, watching as he'd slide his hand up and
down, sometimes fast, then sometimes slowing down, grabbing it backhanded
and using his hand like a slow pump. I wanted nothing more than to be that
hand. I resisted the urge to walk in and ask. I'd ruin this chance if I
did. Hell, I'd have been happy if he just let me lick the hand that his
cock was in if he wouldn't let me touch his cock. I figured his hand would
have some of that clear stuff that dad would rub around, that precum, and
if I licked his hand I'd have some of Papa in me forever.

There was a moment Papa moaned and he ground his hips a bit. I thought he
was going to cum, but he didn't. I felt more confident that I could stay
quiet and was grateful I had on only my pajama pants. Using one hand to
pull the waistband out, I used my other hand to reach in and take out my
very hard, very red, little cock. I hoped that one day mine would grow to
be as big as Dad's and Papa's, but for now I was happy I even had a little
dick to make feel good. I wouldn't really know unless they were hard and
side by side, but Papa looked a little thicker than Dad, and Dad looked a
bit longer...but I was never this close to Dad. It was exciting to no end
to be so close to Papa's cock and hearing the slight wet sounds as he got
wetter. I would have been excited if it was any grown man's cock, but this
was the man who made my dad. Who made three sons. A man I've already jerked
off thinking about. God, I kept thinking, was this really happening?

I couldn't touch myself much or I'd have an orgasm. I couldn't make any cum
yet, but I knew how good it felt if I kept going. When I risked touching
myself, I used three fingers, two under my little cock and one on top, and
tried to mimic Papa. Stroking in time with him. In the dim light of the
streetlamp coming through the window, and the nightlight on the other wall,
Papa looked like a God. Like the rest of the world went way. His cock was
getting wetter and wetter. I almost came when he played with a string of
his precum in the light. The wetter he got the more I could actually hear
his strokes. He had more precum than even Dad.  Sometimes he'd pause like
he was close to cumming I assumed and calmed down. Sometimes he'd point it
down, or just hold it, like he was admiring it or fantasizing about
something.

I don't know how long he stroked or how many times I had to let go of my
little grandson cock, but his hand started going faster and faster. I could
tell, like Dad, that he was going to finish and shoot his cum out. I
couldn't believe I was going to see this. Just feet away. My teeth were
chatting.

It was going to happen. It was time. In the quiet of the house I could hear
his breath get louder. His hips started bucking, and he let go of his cum
filled balls. I assume he brought it to his mouth because just as he did I
heard stifled moans start to come from him...and then it happened. With an
explosion I still see to this day, Papa came. His orgasm shook through him
and a huge volley shot out of his cock. He pumped, and three big volleys
launched out of him. I could actually hear the first two splatter on his
stomach. He kept cumming and more cum oozed out and down his hand. I
couldn't help it. I didn't want to. I had to do what he did, I put my
forearm in my mouth to bite down on and my little body seized as an orgasm
hit my entire body. Over and over my body convulsed seeing him panting and
stroking, I almost lost my balance. I was lightheaded. I didn't move. I
didn't make a sound. I just stood there trembling, worried he'd get up too
quickly to clean up, but I didn't want to leave. I wanted to see his wet
cock leak more. Wanted to watch as he kept squeezing it.

Papa's hand returned to his balls and I saw him rubbing them as he kept
slowly stroking himself, getting softer, but as he rubbed his balls in his
hand more cum leaked out. Seeing it cover his fingers...I would have
begged, tears in my eyes to let me taste them and clean him up.  I wanted
to feel it all over me and hear what kind of sex Papa likes to have. He was
Papa, but as I said, he also became all sex in that moment. I wanted to
have sex with Papa...whatever that could be, but I also wanted it because
he was a fucking big cocked older man...and my body always felt made for
that. Always. I swear the room kept getting darker and in my mind his cock
was all consuming.

I watched as he let go of his balls and kept slowly stroking his cock and
began rubbing his cum over his hairy stomach. I might have gasped, but I
don't think so. Watching it rub into his fur my body exploded again. My
little boy body felt like he controlled it with every move. He smeared his
glistening load and my body reacted with clenching my ass, my little cock
twitching, and my body so shaky I had to put a hand against the wall.

I waited for what felt like forever, and he finally moved as though to get
out of bed and clean up. Knowing that would make some noise, I quickly and
quietly moved away from his door and snuck down the hall. When I got to my
room I couldn't sleep. How could I? My little cock was still hard. My heart
was racing. I got naked in my bed and imagined Papa's fingers. I wriggled
my butt on the bed, wishing he'd rub it like the men did to women in the
magazines, then I started sucking my own hand pretending it was the cum off
his fingers. I grabbed my cock, and it didn't take me long before I my body
exploded all over again. I didn't care that I couldn't make cum yet, but I
pretended it exploded like Papa's cock all over my body.

I must have tired myself out, because the next thing I remember is waking
up under my covers and it was morning. My first thought was, how do I go
down to breakfast with everyone and act like nothing between Papa and me
had changed. For him nothing changed at all.  He was like Dad, doing his
own thing and thinking no one saw him. For me, my relationship with him was
something I never expected. I would always be able to undress him in my
head. I would always know just what was in his pants and how big it would
get...and how it looked when it sprayed his body with cum. Getting out of
bed, part of me wished that never happened because I knew I'd be nervous,
but the other part of me, the little pig that woke up a few years ago, knew
I'd do everything I could to see it happen again.