Date: Wed, 20 Sep 2017 17:51:19 -0700
From: Dick Jacker <jackinbear01@gmail.com>
Subject: Drunken Dad Digs My Dick

Drunken Dad Digs My Dick
By jackinbear01@gmail.com

This story is fictional. It is meant for adults only. It involves
sexual contact between father and son. If you are not of legal age, or
adult sites like this are illegal in your area, please do not
continue. This story may not be reproduced without the author's
permission. All rights reserved.
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please consider donating what you can to Nifty. They make reading fun!
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Jackinbear01@gmail.com

Chapter 1

My dad raised me by himself since I was ten years old. Actually it
would be more accurate to say I learned to take care of myself since I
was ten. Mom and four other people died in an explosion at the factory
where she and my dad worked. There was a lawsuit, and in the
settlement I receive a check for $1275.00 every month until I turn 21.
Dad was injured in the explosion, and he receives $800.00 every month
from disability. He takes occasional side jobs, most just to keep him
supplied with beer and cigarettes. There's a social worker who stops
by once in a while, but as long as the bills are paid and there's food
in the fridge, she doesn't really care.
Dad doesn't really care much either. I'm sure he loves me, because I'm
his son, but I'm not a football jock like he was in high school. I
think he decided early on that we really didn't have much in common to
talk about. I couldn't get all excited about the New England Patriots,
and Dad couldn't wrap his head around my opinions on the solutions to
global warming. I get the impression his love for me is less than
enthusiastic. I'm not neglected or abused. I'm treated more like a
roommate than his son.
Our life slowly devolved into a plodding, somewhat pitiable routine. I
get myself up in the morning for school, making above average grades.
When I get home after class, I go to my room to do my homework and
maybe look around at different sites on the internet. If Dad's home,
he's sprawled on the sofa watching some ball game or reality TV show,
with a few empty beer cans on the floor. I'll fix us both some dinner,
usually something from the freezer to the microwave. More often than
not, Dad will have a few more beers during the night and fall asleep
on the couch. Sometimes I'll shake him until he comes around, and make
sure he gets to his bedroom, where he usually falls back onto his bed,
dropping into a deep noisy sleep while I get his clothes off. Mom's
death devastated him, and his injury just compounded his depression.
All this is reflected in his body, which was once well muscled and
proud. I remember the man he was even as I see what he's slid down to.
I see his muscles softer than they were, but still apparent, his beer
gut growing. He sports a couple of old, cheap blurry tattoos from his
years in the Navy. He has a fairly hairy body, like mine, and when I
get his boots and jeans off, he's usually displaying a decent basket
in his dingy Fruit of the Looms. I wondered how he measured up to me,
you know, dick-wise. I assume that every guy growing up wonders about
it at some point.
I know I'm bigger than most of the guys I've seen at school in the
showers after gym class. And I'm proud of it.  Even soft, I've got a
good thick 6" slab of cockmeat and a good flared mushroom head that
drapes heavily over a pair of sperm factories the size of medium eggs.
The first day I had gym class during my senior year of high school, I
specifically remember Coach Benson walking purposefully through the
locker room as we left the showers wet and glistening, drying
ourselves, He strode through the wide middle section of the locker
room, glancing at some memo or other on a clipboard, and then his deep
brown eyes and furrowed brow quickly scanning across the room of
naked, nearly adult boys. His eyes met mine and he quickly gave me a
disconnected visual once-over, from top to bottom. His gaze stopped at
crotch level, and his eyebrows rose in true surprise. His mouth
silently formed the word "Wow" before he could censor himself, and
then he nearly tripped and stumbled into the skinny, nervous Latino
kid next to me. Coach Benson apologized to the kid, but his critical
gaze turned to me, as if it were my fault. I just smiled stupidly,
shrugged my shoulders and, tilting my head, silently mouthed `Sorry,
dude' as I vigorously rubbed the rough gym towel under my nuts, making
them and my hefty shaft bounce energetically. The movement drew his
gaze downward again quickly, and he huffed as he left the locker room.
I've also seen looks of appraisal, appreciation, desire and downright
jealousy on the faces of other boys and grown men in the changing room
at the local public pool, YMCA showers and locker rooms, public
urinals. And I have to admit I enjoy the attention. But I am truly
proud of my fully engorged, erect cock. Some might call that shallow,
and if it were the only thing memorable about me they'd probably be
right. But I do have much more to offer the world in general. My dick
is appreciated by a much smaller percentage of folks.
And, unfortunately, because I'm so terrified of anyone finding out I'm
gay, I'm really the only one who has ever seen it hard, throbbing and
ready to explode. When I'm really hard, my dick is 9  ½" long and 8"
around. From what I could tell, Dad's dick isn't as long as mine, but
almost as thick, and his balls are decent, but I'm packing more in my
sack. Of course, that's all just assumptions based on what I could see
while he snored and mumbled drunkenly in bed, and a few
half-remembered dreamy images of a younger Dad, masculine, muscular,
hairy and strutting around on a lakeside beach when I was very young,
maybe 4 years old. I remember hugging him around his legs, my head
pressed against a very full speedo style red swimsuit he wore. I
remember feeling the warmth of his basket against my face, and Dad's
embarrassment as he disentangled me from around his legs. Or the few
times I've gotten a glimpse of his fully nude body (instances I
remember when we accidentally crossed paths as he or I headed to the
shower). Or more recently when Dad almost ran into me head on as I was
walking quickly to get showered and cleaned up for a Five Finger Death
Punch concert I was going to. I had gotten distracted looking at
pictures of the band, especially the lead singer Ivan Moody. I
imagined being invited back to their dressing room after the concert
where they made me feel welcome, and happily shared their best weed
and other drugs along with a few beers. Soon enough we were all naked
and I was in the middle of a FFDP orgy. I could picture Ivan Moody
growling and screaming in my face as he pumped his hot load in my well
used ass, and kissing me deep and hard as we shared the jizz his
bandmates sprayed across my face. I was jacking my dick, the band's
latest album blasting through my headphones when I glanced at the
clock, realizing I had less than a half hour before I had to get to my
friend Leroy's place. I grabbed a towel from the hall closet and raced
toward the bathroom, not caring that I was totally naked, and my dick
was still half-hard. At that moment, the bathroom door opened, and my
Dad stepped out, wearing just his Fruit of the Looms. I tried to stop
short, but I had too much momentum, and we collided. I felt my semi
hard dick press against the bulge in his underwear, my hairy chest and
stomach grind against his. We both let out harsh grunts as we stepped
back. I was babbling `Sorry, Dad, sorry...late...going to the
concert...sorry...' Dad stepped back, yelling `Ow! Fuck!' while he grabbed
his basket. `Watch it, kiddo,' he exclaimed, `you jammed me in the
fuckin' nuts with that club!', indicating my still firm cock. He
stepped aside, and I slipped into the bathroom, shutting the door.
There weren't a lot of adult men around that I saw as role models. It
was pretty much just Dad and me. But as inadequate as my father was in
raising a son alone, and as frustrating as his heavy drinking and deep
depression over Mom's death became, I liked it. Dad and me battling
all the bad shit the universe wants to chuck at us. Of course, I
included my admitting to myself that I was gay in the category of `bad
shit'. And as I became more comfortable with my sexual desire for men,
my dad, and men like my dad, populated most of my sexual fantasies.
Sometimes it was the guys Dad used to work with at the factory. But
lately my JO fantasies involved the guys that hung out at Dad's
favorite bar down the street, Fat Jack's. The customers are mostly
local bikers and blue collar workers and career alcoholics. I'd gone
there with Dad when I was a little kid, usually a Saturday afternoon.
They'd give me free soda and a bowl of peanuts, and it was okay for me
to throw the shells on the floor. Sometimes dad would give me a
quarter for the pinball machine. All the other regular customers were
friendly to me, and I liked going there. I also remember some of the
bikers taking me for rides around the block on their Harleys. I would
sit behind them, a big oversize helmet on my head, being told to wrap
my hands around them and hold their leather vests. I remember pressing
my face against the warm leather, the aroma of the leather mingled
with the sweat of the hairy bikers, and the faint scent of motor oil,
and sometimes weed.
But after Mom died, he stayed away from the bar for almost a year. He
started going back to Fat Jack's for an occasional beer or a pool or
dart tournament. Dad figured I could take care of myself at night and
he stopped taking me there during the day. Besides, he realized it was
cheaper just to drink at home during the week. And so, Dad's Saturday
night routine was started.
On Saturday nights, after dinner, he would go to Fat Jack's to shoot
pool and bullshit with the other regulars, usually stumbling home
about 2AM. I never worried too much, because I knew Dad could handle
his liquor pretty well, sticking to beer, and maybe a shot or two of
whiskey. And if he went far beyond his limit, there were a number of
the guys who knew and cared about Dad well enough, who would walk him
home. They would come through the door, Dad's arm lazily draped over a
beefy thick set of shoulders, and the good Samaritan's thick, muscled
(usually tattooed) arm wrapped around Dad's waist.
The last time had been the first weekend of May. One of the regulars
announced that his son was coming home from a two-year tour of duty in
the Persian Gulf. He bought several rounds of shots for the bar, and
Dad happily accepted each one. I got this explanation from the biker
who brought him home. His name was Rudy. He stood almost 6'4", and
looked as if he weighed close to 275 pounds. He had a full head of
silver hair, and a thick silver beard. He was beefy, tatted up, and I
could see a thick bit of white fur pushing out over his t-shirt. He
was friendly, with a deep voice and a broad smile. He looked to be
about 50, nearly ten years older than my father. He offered to help me
get dad undressed and in bed, which I gratefully accepted. Once he was
stripped down to his underwear, Dad rolled over on his stomach and
quickly fell asleep. Then, as Rudy and I stood on either side of Dad's
grumbling, snoring body, the big biker gave Dad's asscheek a quick
sharp smack, saying sternly, `THAT'S for making me drag your drunk ass
home, and making us undress you and put you to bed like a 3 year old!'
Dad moaned and whined a bit, mumbling `Sorry'. Rudy replied, less
angrily, `You sure are, buddy.' He looked over at me, smiled and
winked at me.
`I gotta take off.' Rudy said. I walked him to the kitchen door.
Before he left, he turned to me, placing his big strong hands on my
shoulders. He looked at me, his face serious.
`My old man had only three friends. Jack Daniels, Jim Beam, and Jose
Cuervo, so I know what it's like.' He added, 'Consider yourself lucky
that your dad doesn't smack you around like mine did.' He leaned a
little closer, his voice quieter, but with a tone of gravity.
`If that ever changes...if he ever raises a hand to you...you let me know.
I'll set his drunken ass straight.' He stood up straighter, adding,
`I've gotten to know your Dad pretty well these last few months.
Sometimes he just needs a firm hand to guide him in the right
direction. We all do. Whether your 16 or 60.' He shook my hand, said
good night and left. I fell asleep smiling, feeling like I'd made a
new friend. I'd almost forgotten how good that felt.

Chapter 2
Because I could count on Dad being gone for a few hours every Saturday
night, that also became my night to really enjoy watching porn on my
laptop and having a good long stroke session. There were a few sites
that I really enjoyed, and the videos I liked the most showed hairy,
bearded, muscular guys, usually with lots of tats, sucking, fucking,
jacking and making out with each other. Growling and grunting as they
spread a hard hairy set of asscheeks, diving in and slurping and
slobbering over a sweaty, puckering butthole. I loved watching scenes
where some lucky dude moaned as his buddy slid a thick greasy cock
balls deep into his ass, and begging to be pounded like a bitch, a
rock hard shaft slammed over and over against his sweaty gaping
fuckhole while he jacks his own hard dick. And both them shooting
their loads all over his hairy sweaty body. Many times I'd close my
eyes and see, not the hot muscle beasts on the screen, but some of the
guys who hung out at Fat Jack's. There were a number of bikers who
frequented the place and some men who, like my Dad, didn't have much
else to do. I'd fantasize that I was in the bar, after closing, with
all those drunk, horny guys. They'd start grabbing their baskets while
I watched, then grab my shoulder and push me to my knees while they
whipped out their hard, drooling dicks and fuck my face brutally.
Standing around, jacking their dicks, waiting their turn, maybe
grabbing the buddy next to them and making him suck their dick. I'd
strip naked and lay on the pool table, my legs raised up, offering my
hairy tight hole. Sometimes I'd imagine my Dad standing there, jacking
his cock, watching as his son swallows load after load of horny biker
jizz, while someone hunkers down and sucks my quivering hole. My dad
steps up, leers at me between my raised legs and plunges his thick
meat into my ass, grunting, swearing and laughing as he rips my ass
wide open, and all his buddies gather around, stroking their cocks,
unloading their thick hot cream all over my body as my Dad pumps his
jizz deep in my greedy ass.
I sometimes wish that I could be open with my Dad, and admit that I
was into guys instead of girls. But I was too afraid that he'd blow
up, kick me out of the house, beat the crap out of me, and force me to
leave forever. So I lived with my secret, and satisfied myself with my
hot sexual fantasies and my stroke sessions.
But one night I learned that the universe doesn't like to keep secrets.

Chapter 3
It was a Saturday night in early June. I had just graduated from high
school, and was working part time at a manufacturing plant that made
components for those big electrical transformers you see on power
poles. I worked on the loading dock, along with a number of beefy,
muscular men, as well as a regular crew of truck drivers who delivered
parts for us, or hauled our components to other factories to be used
in assembling the finished transformers. They were all very friendly
and willing to help me adjust to the hard work of loading and
unloading trailers filled with crates of various parts. A couple of
them knew my dad from Fat Jack's, and sometimes shared funny stories
of some of the things that happened at the bar, a few including my
dad. I was lucky enough to glimpse a few of my coworkers as we stood
side by side at the big trough urinal in the men's room. No one seemed
shy about standing with their dick in their hand, taking a healthy
piss, chatting amiably with the coworker beside him. It also seemed
that (at least here) guys casually glanced at the dicks on display,
without any concern or offense. No one seemed to look too long, or too
intently. Some of the guys at work who checked out my equipment gave
me a slow nod of approval or a `thumbs up' as they stuffed their
packages back in their pants and stepped away. A lot of these
coworkers quickly became part of my nightly JO fantasies.
This particular Saturday night seemed like any other. About 10PM, Dad
pulled on his cowboy boots, put on a fresh shirt and grabbed his pool
cue in its brown leather case. He leaned into my bedroom to tell me he
was going out, and left, the screen door banging loosely as he stepped
off the porch and down the street. I got up and watched him walk away
until he turned the corner at the end of the block. I closed the
kitchen door, grabbed a Mountain Dew from the fridge, and headed back
to my bedroom.
I left my bedroom door open, hoping to get some cooler air from the
A/C unit in the living room window. I plugged in a pair of earbuds and
stuck them in, effectively blocking out the whoosh and rattle of the
A/C. With a few clicks, I was watching a video I had seen a few times
before. It was quickly becoming one of my favorites. It mirrored some
of my own fantasies.
It was set in a bar, a lot like Fat Jack's. The bartender, as well as
the three customers all wore leather vests. The bartender looked to be
the oldest. His head was shaved, but he had a thick full beard that
was dark, except for the hair on his chin, which was sliver/grey. He
wore a plain white tshirt, stretched tight across his thick chest,
shoulders and biceps. His forearms were both covered in intricate
tattoos which flexed and moved as he cleaned glasses and served beers
to his customers.
The customers all looked to be over 30 years old. One was blonde with
his long hair kept in a tight braid. His goatee was full and neatly
trimmed. He wore a plain black tank top, and the blonde hair on his
chest was thick. He had a couple tats on each bicep. He was wearing
black leather chaps and faded 501's.
The second customer was shorter than the blonde, maybe 5'8" or so, and
had a thick build, his chest, shoulders and arms covered with reddish
brown fur. His hair was cut short, his mustache full and trimmed. The
third man was Hispanic, with skin the color of caramel, his prison
tats proudly displayed across his bare chest and stomach, as well as
his arms, and even a few on his neck.. He wore tight jeans and black
motorcycle boots.
Their conversation centered on their shared sexual frustration,
agreeing that they always got horny when they rode their motorcycles,
because of the vibration of the engine. The Hispanic dude said it was
toughest for him since his old lady was pregnant and wouldn't let him
anywhere near her. The redhead said his girlfriend always bitched that
he was too big, and she could never give him a decent blowjob. The
other guys all laughed and called him a liar, and he said he'd prove
it.
The bartender locks the front door. They all moved to the pool table,
and stared in shock as he unbuttoned his fly and hauled out a thick
huge uncut cock. As he stroked it, it grew to its full length. They
asked how big it was and the bartender pulled out a tape measure. The
blonde steps forward and holds the tape measure alongside the
throbbing drooling dick, verifying its 12" length. The other two men
pull out their dicks, each impressive in length and thickness. The
blonde's dick is cut, with a wide, shiny cockhead. He measures almost
8" and almost 8" around. The Hispanic dude's cock is uncut, the
foreskin thick and long, even when he's fully hard at 8  ½".
They convince the bartender to join them, and he displays a dick that
grows quickly to its full length of 10", drooling thick strings of
precum, which he collects on his fingertip and swiftly slips into his
mouth. The other three are surprised but intrigued and each tastes
their own precum, then they take turns licking their buddies' fingers,
sampling each other's' sweet clear precum.
The bartender says, `Wanna see something cool?' He strips off his
jeans and sits on a bench against the wall. As the other three look
on, stroking their throbbing dicks, he leans over, his hard cock
standing straight and tall, and lowers his head, his mouth open, and
swallows the head and about a third of his own cock. He bobs up and
down, taking more and more, his hardon shiny from his spit. He's
moaning and tugging on his balls and finally raises his head back up,
gasping for breath. His beard is slick with spit and precum.
`Where the fuck did you learn to do that?' the redhead asks.
`My dad taught me when I was about 14. He has a huge dick too, and
sometimes it's tough finding pussy. And you know as well as me that
it's almost impossible to find a woman who can really take care of
these big fucksticks.'
The three others are now all naked, and the redhead sits next to the
bartender and says, `Let me try.' He holds his hard cock by the base,
aiming it up at his mouth and leans his head down as far as he can.
The bartender puts his big hand on the back of Red's neck and helps
him bend closer. Red sticks his tongue out and is able to swipe it
across the drooling cockhead, pulling his foreskin up and sticking his
tongue inside. Panting and sweating, he strains to lean closer and
opens his mouth until he has the shiny head covered by his lips.
The blonde and the Hispanic are face to face, stroking each other, the
blonde slides a finger under the Hispanic dude's foreskin, gathering
more precum, and slipping the slick digit into the Hispanic's hungry
mouth.
The scene continues, ultimately with all four men sucking each other,
and the bartender laying on the pool table with his legs up, getting
fucked by the other three men. I watched, my underwear kicked off, my
cock drooling and throbbing, my balls pulled up close. I was grunting
and moaning, sweat dripping down my chest and stomach, gathering in
the hairy cleft of my ass. I released my cock, watching it bob and
weave, precum being flung every which way. I let my breathing slow, my
impending orgasm easing off.
It was like that for nearly 2 hours. Different videos, different
scenes. I took a break about midnight and walked around my house
naked, my hard thick greased up cock bobbing, a thick string of precum
dangling from the tip. I stood in front of the air conditioner,
relishing in the cool air blasting against my overheated, sensitive
cock. My balls crawled up tight against the base of my shaft from the
sudden temperature change. After a few moments, I went back to the
kitchen for another can of Mountain Dew, flexing my right hand and
wrist, which had begun to cramp up from the continuous grip on my
cock. I flexed my shoulder and elbow, giving the muscles a chance to
relax before going back for one last JO marathon and an intense
orgasm.
I sat back down in front of my laptop, inserted the ear buds, clicked
on a video, and leaned back. I grabbed a couple thick globs of the
thick greasy lube from the tub sitting in the top drawer of my
nightstand, slathering my bloated, throbbing cock and aching, swollen
balls in the cooling cream. The video was about a couple bikers and
some truckers who find a highway patrolman who's been hassling them
all on this stretch of road, asleep in his squad car at a secluded
rest area. They drag him into the bathroom and exact some hot fucking
revenge on the helpless cop. I'm sure you can imagine how fucking
amazing it all was. After a while, it was just the sounds of men and
their animal lust, and I just closed my eyes, laid my head back and
worked my cock toward an insane, earth-shaking cum shower.
My gut, my balls, my prostate, my cock all begged for me to release
the pressure building up. My mind struggled to keep me in control, to
slow my hand, ease up on my balls, which I pulled on tightly. I
released them and moved my free hand over my hairy belly and chest,
drenched in sweat despite the air conditioning. I could feel sweat
streaming down my furry asscrack and my taint, pooling on the leather
seat of my chair. I flicked my finger across one nipple, then the
other, settling on the left one to grab, slowly increasing the
pressure, feeling jolts of pleasure race from the nipple to my brain
to my cock, to my puckering, juicy asshole. I grunted and groaned
along with the men in the video, lost in my own hazy, sweaty, musky,
manly cloud of lust and passion.
I was so completely immersed in my own sexual frenzy that I never
heard the kitchen door open, or the cowboy boots walking across the
old linoleum floor. All I know is that I was instantly torn from my
fantasy world when I heard my dad yell, `Holy SHIT, son! What the FUCK
are you doing??'

Chapter 4
I sat forward instantly, turning my head to see my dad standing
outside my open bedroom door. The earbuds popped out, and I knocked
the empty Mountain Dew can off the desk, scrambling to reach for the
shorts I had tossed on a chair nearby.
`Dad! What the fuck?!?' I yelled, trying to cover up my still hard,
drooling cock. I could feel my prostate pulsing, releasing more clear
precum that poured from the tip of my dick, running down the shaft and
over my balls, dripping and joining the puddle of sweat that squelched
as my ass slipped along the leather seat.
My heart was still beating a mile a minute, partly from my imminent
orgasm, mostly from being interrupted, but also from the shock of
seeing my father standing only two feet away, his own face expressing
shock, surprise, and a little confusion. Of course these were all
filtered through a brain currently stewing in Coors Light and probably
a couple of shots of Wild Turkey.
`I...I didn't expect you back til later on...I was just...'
He stepped back and sideways, stumbling against the door, and catching
himself. `I saw what you were doing. Doing a pretty good job, too.' He
gave a wobbly thumbs-up and a bit of a wink.
I looked down, saying, `I'm sorry, Dad.'
He took a couple unsteady steps into the bedroom, placing his cool,
rough hand on my hot, sweaty shoulder. The contact made me shudder as
he squeezed my shoulder lovingly.
`Don't apologize, son. Never feel sorry for enjoying your own body.
Never be ashamed of having a real good time getting your rocks off. We
all do it.' Dad leaned closer to my ear and added more quietly, `But
we all don't get to play with equipment as good as yours.' He chuckled
a bit, and let out a whistle. I could smell beer and whiskey on his
breath.
He stood back up. `I'm kinda jealous. That's a pretty impressive cock
you got, son. No two ways about it. Hell, my dick's one of the biggest
over at Fat Jack's, but from what I saw, you got me beat by at least
an inch. Yours looks thicker too.'
I felt a little embarrassed having my dad compliment me on my dick. I
also wondered how long he'd been standing there watching before he
said anything. I readjusted the shorts to cover it, as it softened and
sank, resting against my large balls, aching and still full of boiling
cum. `Dad, please...' I said hesitantly.
`I know it's a little weird, but seeing that major meat you got makes
me kinda...proud, I guess. It's proof that my son is a grown man. All
fuckin' hairy like me, enjoying the feeling of stroking your meat,
jacking that big motherfucking cock and those huge balls.' He
absentmindedly groped his own basket, adjusting his bulge. He looked
at the laptop and said, `Whatcha watchin' buddy?'
I hadn't closed the laptop, and in all the confusion, left the video
running. Dad's eyesight wasn't great, and after a night of beer and
shots, it was even harder for him to focus. He stepped closer, leaning
down to see the screen clearer.
On the screen, the cop was on his knees, his hands cuffed behind him,
naked except for his uniform shirt, unbuttoned, revealing a muscled,
furry chest and stomach. His hard cock pressed against his hairy belly
as one of the bikers fucked his throat with a thick uncut cock. A
trucker unlocked the cuffs, pulled the cop's ass up, forcing him on
all fours, exposing his hairy round ass. The bearded trucker
immediately hunkered down, spread the offered asscheeks and spit into
the flexing hole. He jammed his face against the pucker, his broad
tongue swiping wetly up and down.
Dad was still drunk enough that it took him a moment to register what
he was seeing. He straightened up quickly, stumbled back and thudded
against the doorway with a `Whoa.' He took a deep breath, still
looking at the screen. I felt like my heart was going to drop out of
my chest, like my whole world was crashing in on me. I kept my eyes
cast down, shuddering and trying my best not to break down and cry.
`Those are some big dudes,' he commented. Another deep breath. A
pause. `That's what turns you on, huh?'  I just nodded slightly, still
avoiding his gaze, sniffling as tears ran down my face dripping off my
chin into my chest hair. My shoulders shaking as I silently wept,
waiting for his rage to surface, for the condemnation I was sure was
coming.
Dad finally noticed my distress, and he squatted down next to me. He
held my shoulders firmly and asked, `What's wrong?' I couldn't speak,
but he seemed to understand my fear.
`Did you think I'd hate you if you told me?' My eyes were filled with
fear, and I saw his fill with sadness. His hands slid around my back
as he pulled me to him, my face against his strong neck. I felt his
breath against my ear, the beer and whiskey odor mingling with the
faint scent of his aftershave.
`Oh, son, I could never hate you. Never. Whatever you do, however you
live, as long as you're happy and you live honestly, I will love you
forever.'
We held each other like that for a while. I whispered, `Thank you,
Dad. I love you too.'
Dad's attention was again drawn to the computer screen. By this time,
the trucker was lying on the floor as the cop was impaling himself on
the trucker's big cock. A biker was on his hands and knees greedily
swallowing the cop's cock, while a black trucker roughly pistoned his
massive cock in and out of the biker's ass in long steady strokes. The
other men in the scene were similarly engaged. Mouths, asses, cocks,
balls were being used, stroked, stretched and stimulated.
`Fuck, those are some big fucking dicks.' He stood up, and with a
wicked grin, added, `But I'll bet you could give some of those dudes a
real amazing pounding.'
He seemed to be getting into the spirit of the scene he was watching.
He continued, `Wouldn't you love to have that big trucker choking on
your fat hog? Feel his beard rubbing on your balls? Hold his head
against your crotch as you stuff his throat?' He leaned against the
doorway, groping and rubbing his stiffening cock.
His next words surprised me, stunned me, and also turned me on. My
dick jumped and I automatically grabbed it, squeezing it as a fresh
stream of precum drooled out.
`Fuck son, I'd love to see you fucking that man's throat.' His gaze
moved to my crotch, still covered with the pair of shorts, but I was
slowly squeezing its length, not stroking yet, just getting it filled
up, feeling it stiffen, rise, become powerful.
`C'mon, son show your old man that amazing cock. I wanna see that fucker shoot.'

Chapter 5
I gave him my own wicked grin and said, `I'll show you mine if you
show me yours.' He chuckled, replying, `Good one, boy.' He pulled off
his boots and socks then took off his shirt and unzipped his jeans. I
was surprised to find out he wasn't wearing underwear. When he noticed
my puzzled looked, he said, `I never wear undershorts when I go out,
especially when I'm wearing Levi's. Freeballing always makes my
package look more...impressive. He moved his boots and clothes to a
chair near the bedroom. When he stepped back inside, my legs were
spread, I was leaning back, my thick, hard cock standing tall. I held
the base in my left hand and smacked my cock against my right palm.
Drops of precum glittered in the light of the screen. I reached over
to the drawer for a thick glob of grease, spreading it along the shaft
and balls, and sliding one finger down my crack, lifting my leg and,
finding my puckered hole, pressed firmly, feeling my slick finger
slide inside the tight ring, I hissed, then moaned.
Dad noticed the thick greasy cream, and asked about it. `That's my
favorite jacking grease. It's fantastic.' He stepped closer to me. I
reached in, got a good amount of grease on my fingers and, without
thinking, spread it along the top of Dad's hardon and began stroking
its full length.
Dad's eyes closed and his body shuddered as my greasy fist slid from
his cockhead to the base and back again. He slumped back against the
doorframe, his eyes watching as my hand milked his cock slow and
steady. He bucked his hips forward, grunting as he fucked my hand. I
let go of his cock and turned my attention to my own throbbing hardon.
We both alternated between watching the hot scene on the computer, and
watching each other.
`Have you fooled around with any of your buddies, son?' Dad asked. I
just shook my head.
I continued jacking, and replied, still watching the hot fuck party on
the screen, `Honestly Dad, I haven't done anything with any guys. I'm
afraid of getting caught, getting beat up or being called a faggot.'
My jacking slowed down.
`Besides, I wouldn't know where to go around here to find guys who...do
this kind of stuff.'
`Aww, boy, that's a shame. But you don't have to go very far to find
guys looking to get a good blowjob. If that's what you wanna do, that
is. You wanna suck a man's cock, son? Dad just kept jacking his hardon
with long steady strokes, watching me intently.
I nodded my head and looked at him. We locked eyes and our faces were
serious and intense.
`I want to do it all, Dad. I want to feel a hot mouth stretch over
this fat rod, hear some big beefy stud choking on my cock as it pushes
down his throat. I want to taste a man's precum, let him fuck my face
and swallow his cum. I want to feel my cock pushing into a tight hairy
ass. I want to feel a man unload his cum deep in my hole.'
Dad still stroking, nodded his head. `I know you're gonna do it all,
kiddo. And you're gonna be fucking awesome.'
`And you know what else, Dad?' I looked at him, my voice a little less
steady, but not out of fear. I was shuddering from the intense erotic
current flowing through me as I expressed my desire.
`I want you to be there with me. I want you to watch me the first time
I blow my load in some hot guy's mouth. I want you standing behind me,
encouraging me as I shoot my spunk in some hairy trucker's ass. I want
you to hold me, making sure I'm not hurt when I get fucked for the
first time.'
Dad just leaned back, groaning, his eyes closing, his cock throbbing,
`Damm you, son. You are one twisted motherfucker. And you know just
what to say to make me wanna drown you in my jizz.' He paused, trying
to choose his next words carefully.
`Maybe instead of watching you do all those things for the first time,
I'll be the man you're doing them with. How about that, fucker?' He
slowly milked his cock, grunting as he let it go, seeing it bob and
drool. We looked at each other again, chuckling deep in our throats.
Dad was steadily stroking his rock hard meat, which curved upwards
slightly. He watched me as I gave my cock a few vigorous strokes and
let it go, watching it smack wetly against my hairy belly. `Stand up,
boy.' He said, his voice still husky, but direct. `Let's see our dicks
side by side.' He straightened up as I stood and we both stepped
closer, facing each other. Dad reached out and held my cock alongside
his as I pushed against his thick bush. The tip of his cock was just
barely brushing against my pubes, a little over an inch away from the
base of my cock.
`Damm,' he said, slightly disappointed, `You are longer than me.' I
grabbed both our dicks and pressed them together, the shafts vertical,
the cockheads glistening and drooling precum.
`But I think you're thicker, and your nutsack is a lot hairier.' I
fondled his balls and slowly stroked his meat. He reached over and did
the same with mine. `Your balls are bigger, too, son.' He swayed a
little, releasing my hard dick and firm balls. I let go of his meat,
too, as he steadied himself against my desk. He stepped into my room,
saying, `Mind if I sit for a while, buddy? This is fun, but I've had a
few extra shots and I wanna relax a bit.' He stepped behind me and sat
down heavily on my bed, his back against the wall. He stroked his
dick, and with his free hand patted the area next to him, inviting me
to join him. I sat next to him, turning the laptop toward us. We were
side by side, both jacking our dicks, Dad's left arm lovingly draped
across my shoulder, pulling me closer to him. His leg draped over
mine, my balls rubbing back and forth on his meaty thigh. Dad wanted
to see what else I liked to watch, so I found another video with a
bunch of bikers. They were varied. Some hairy, some bearded, some
inked. Some looked as young as 25, and a couple silver daddies looked
over 60, all with leather vests and chaps. They were in their
clubhouse with their new club president. Of course they had to make it
official with every member getting a blowjob from the new president or
pumping their thick hardons in his hairy ass.
As the scene was progressing, Dad commented, `Hell, those fuckers
remind me of some of the bikers over at Fat Jack's.' He looked over at
me, with a little knowing smirk, and said, `Oooh, I get it now. You
wanna fuck around with some of the guys over at the bar, right?'
I just kept jacking my dick, my free hand pawing my hairy chest and
lightly twisting my nips.
`Damm right, Dad. I wanna smell those sweaty hairy fuckers, swallow
their cocks. Eat a hairy sweaty biker's ass until he begs for my cock.
I wanna bust some fucking Harley rider's cherry, and then I wanna see
you stuff your dick down his throat and both of us plow him, shooting
our loads together, filling his guts with our hot father/son jizz!'
We were both working our dicks hard & fast. I leaned over, looking
down at my dick, intending to spit on my meat and get it nice & slick
again. I stopped and said, `Dad...'
When he looked at me questioningly, I looked down at my crotch and
said, my voice harsh, `Spit on my dick, man. Make it wet.' He gave me
that sideways smile.
`Fuck yeah, kiddo. I wanna get my son's cock nice & wet.' He leaned
over, his head above my hard shaft. He released a thick wad of saliva
that landed right on top. I immediately slid my fist down the length,
relishing the warm spit as it spread along the whole length of my
cock. I groaned, `Fuck yeah, Dad. That feels so fuckin' good!'
Dad released his cock, looking over at me and said, `C'mon son, Get
your old man's dick nice & slick.' I leaned over, laying my head
against his sweaty, hairy chest. His breathing was quick, I could feel
his heartbeat quick and steady. I worked up a good bit of saliva in my
mouth. Dad's free hand held my head against his chest, smoothing my
hair. When my spit drooled down his shaft, he let go of my head and
bucked his hips, groaning and swearing as he milked his throbbing
cock.
`Awwwww fuck son,' Dad growled, `I'm getting close. But I wanna see
you shoot first. Can you blow your load for me, buddy?' I raised
myself up to a kneeling position facing him. `C'mon, fucker, shoot
your hot young cum all over your Daddy.'
I was nodding, my breath quick and shallow. `Yessir, Dad. I want to
cum for you!' Dad reached over and held my balls firmly, and that's
what sent me over. Feeling his hot, rough hand massaging my nuts. My
body shuddered, I grunted as I came.
`UUUNNGGGHHH! Fuck, Dad! I love cumming for you!' My father and I
looked deep in each other's eyes, seeing the intense satisfaction as
three thick ropes of my jizz sprayed across his chest and stomach. I
kept stroking, and two more thick wads landed on his hard cock and his
hand. He let out a long moan, jacking steadily.
`Oh, fuck, jacking my dick with my own son's cum! That's it, boy! I'm
gonna shoot!'
He grunted, as we continued to gaze into each other's eyes. His load
blasted up, splashing on my belly, dripping from my pubes. I pressed
the head of my cock against his and his sperm spread across my
cockhead, and one last jet splashed over my balls. I rubbed his jizz
all over my sweaty nuts, and back across my taint, and over my
quivering hairy virgin ass.
We both collapsed against each other, our breathing labored as we
tried to slow our heartbeats down. Dad let go of his cock and his hand
reached for my arm. I rolled onto him helplessly as he held me against
him, our faces side by side, whispering our wonder, our joy, surprise,
and love. Dad's arms wrapped around me as we both returned to normal.
After a minute or two, I rolled back on my side, `Thanks, Dad. Thanks
for not freaking out about...this.'
`Well, I'm glad you were able to be open about what you really like.
And I'm sorry you had to keep this a secret from me.' Dad sat up in
bed, looking out the bedroom window into the night.
He continued, `I can't imagine how tough it is to feel like you do,
but not be able to find out what it's really like. I know I've been a
pretty shitty father. Maybe I can help. Make up for lost time. And I'm
willing to be open to a lot of new experiences. Like tonight. But
that's because I do love you son. I want to help you become a good
man, a satisfied man, a man other men remember for a long time, and I
want to see you happy.'
I placed my hand on Dad's bare thigh. `I am, Dad. I am happy. Happy
that you like the man I'm growing up to be. I hope you'll teach me
more sometime.'
Dad reached over and ran his hand across my hairy chest, rubbing his
thumb back and forth across my hardening nipple. `Son, I think we're
going to be teaching each other a lot of new things.'
Dad got up from my bed and gathered his clothes outside my bedroom.
`I'm going to get some sleep, son. I'll see you in the morning.' He
started to walk away, and then turned back to me.
`So, tell me, do you really wanna get it on with all those bikers at
Fat Jack's?'
I thought for a moment, and then replied, `Maybe not all of `em. Maybe
not all at once. `
I paused again, and then said, `What do you know about that biker named Rudy?'
Dad's eyebrows rose in surprise, but a dirty grin spread across his
face. I could see his dick was beginning to thicken and rise up.
`We'll talk later, boy. Go to sleep.'


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