Date: Tue, 27 Jul 2021 17:23:02 -0400 From: Rod Rey Subject: Exploring Dad's Dad Bod So many people talked about having specific body types, and conventional beauty seemed to be the consensus on what was truly attractive. As an eighteen-year-old who'd just finished high school, I still hadn't developed a type. Instead, I'd developed an admiration based on personal feelings and my own perception. It was the deep kind of admiration that overtook my mind. At fifty, Dad had a typical dad bod with blond, brown, and gray hairs swirling around his pasty, round belly, and some circling his large, pink nipples, which were the same three colors as the loose curls on his head that probably needed a trim like his thick, disheveled beard. But he had a seasonal side job at the suburban mall as Santa every year, which meant he could just cover it all up with a white and curly wig, matching fake beard, and the iconic red hat and suit. I'd worked alongside him a few times as a little elf since I was a short, skinny, and pasty blond like many elves seemed to be. Oddly enough, my name was Donner. I came downstairs from my messy room this Friday afternoon, which I still liked better than my "official" room at Mom's suburban house because I could design it however I wanted without her being critical about it. Dad lived in a slightly-rundown shack out in the country about an hour away, and he didn't care about that stuff. They'd had a bitter divorce a few years back, and I'd been stuck with Mom ever since. She was okay, just a bit too religious and controlling while acting like an old prude for being much younger than Dad. But I at least didn't have to go to church anymore after our last big fight about it. Dad probably believed in God, but he didn't practice anything. Not that I knew of anyway. We didn't really talk about that stuff. So, for all I knew, he believed in Puff the Magic Dragon as his higher power of choice. I entered the messy living room where the pedestal fan was on low. Because of the summer temperature outside and no A/C, I wore just my dark-blue boxers. Dad was passed out on the worn, vomit-colored recliner, lightly snoring away. An empty can of cheap beer must've slipped from his grasp, having rolled into a few others on the creaking wood floor. He wore nothing but sky-blue boxers that were faded from too many laundry loads. His furry body glistened with light sweat. The fly of his boxers was always wide whenever he sat anywhere, making my little dick twitch with curiosity. We'd seen each other naked many times because we often showered together to save on hot water. It really wasn't a big deal. (Mom didn't know a thing about our private lives here for obvious reasons.) I kept staring at Dad as he continually snored. I felt driven to explore his dad bod beyond just looking at it. Honestly, I wasn't sure whether I was just horny or particularly fascinated by his bearish body. Buff and ripped torsos seemed so fake, after all. Dad's was natural and common, just like his drinking buddies' dad bods, and all of them were tall with strong limbs like lumberjacks. I rarely thought about boys my age, and for that matter, I rarely thought about older men. Mostly Dad and his drinking buddies, but really, Dad more than them. I didn't know why, and I didn't care to figure it out. I stepped closer and grew more erect the longer I stared, his strong musk making me smile because of its familiarity that drove Mom nuts. He showered daily, but he still smelled like man no matter what, just like his drinking buddies did. His pink dick was snugged inside his boxers, the big head poking out of his fly. The shaft was short but fat. He didn't trim his pubes since I could see a few wiry strands sprouting out. Then again, I didn't trim mine either. I liked the idea of us being men here, free with no limits like he often said. He used to be a '90s hippy toking to folk and alt-rock ballads (not my musical taste). In response, Mom always muttered, "liberals." Whatever. Whenever we showered together, Dad had said more than once that he didn't have any qualms about me wanting to touch him after he'd caught me staring at his hard dick every time, but that he'd never initiate it. I wasn't sure if that'd been an invitation or what, but I'd never dared to make a move despite my growing feelings for him, whatever these feelings were. They weren't just horny ones like they were for his drinking buddies because my heart also melted whenever Dad and I hung out and gave each other affection. He was a great dad, my favorite person in the world, just that he needed to stop drinking so much and smoking too much weed, especially with his drinking buddies who were probably a bad influence. If I could live here permanently instead of only seeing him on select weekends throughout the year, I'd help him quit. I'd save him and make him happy in any way I could. Hell, I'd be his "manwife" if he wanted me to be, even though I wasn't feminine. I just didn't care as long as I got to be with him. I loved him more than Mom, even though I loved her too. I bit my lower lip as I focused my intense gaze on his dick, my heart racing. I tried to reach for a little touch but then jerked away from the nervousness. I tried it again and again. Damn it, I wanted to touch him! He allowed it. So, why couldn't I get myself to do it? Besides, he was still snoring away in oblivion. Finally, after several more failed attempts, I waited some minutes of just staring at it. Then, I took in all the courage I could muster and quickly grabbed it. The soft and moist muscle in my hand felt so surreal, making me harder than ever to the point of dripping inside my boxers. His dick twitched every so often while in my hand, and after a moment of being still, I slowly stroked it until it gradually hardened. My heart pounded and vibrated through my head, even though he was deep asleep. But whereas I couldn't have gotten myself to do this at first, I could no longer get myself to stop. I fondled and caressed Dad's dick. It was weird how I'd come out of this organ as a tiny sperm eighteen years ago, his special creation. Maybe that was why I was fascinated. I kept playing with it for a while, my dripping dick rock hard and begging for a release. "Donner..." A whispery moan in a tender tone while still asleep. Was he really asleep? My heart continued to beat fast, but I still couldn't let go of his dick. "Ungh..." Barely audible as if half awake. I stroked fast, his precum copiously spilling over my fist. I used it as lube, intent on watching him come. I'd never seen his cum before, and the thought of it threatened me to shoot sooner than I wanted. "Donner...ungh..." Those horny whispers, his vocal hunger for me. He probably hadn't had sex in so long since Mom had stopped putting out long before the divorce. So, I knew he wanted this. He needed it. It'd been just a matter of me making the first move. "Make Daddy come, boy..." I quickened the pace until he started thrusting into my fist in very slow movements, his heavier breathing warning me already. I was transfixed by this surreal experience, having crossed the line to the point of no return. This was wrong because it was incest, but it didn't feel wrong. Huffing now. "Donner...Donner, Donner, fuck...I'm gonna come, gonna come...gahhh...ungh..." While he grunted, ropes of cum spouted like a fountain, landing on his chest and belly in thick globs, and a warm splatter on my face that nearly hit my eye. My heart raced with excitement, and I came hands-free from the intense arousal that continually struck my body. My boxers were drenched while the rest of my cum dripped down my leg. It was the most powerful orgasm I'd ever experienced, but it was also overwhelmingly too much that I needed to be alone and process what I'd just done to my own dad. I dashed away, rushed up the stairs, and went back into my room. Catching my breath, I smiled in disbelief as I stood near my bed. I couldn't believe it. I'd just made Dad come while coming on my own. And there was still some of his cum on my face and hand. Since I'd eaten my own many times, I'd licked his all up with no problem, already loving the musty smell of his dick all over my fingers. Meh, the taste of his cum was okay. A bit weird. But the meaning behind it was more than okay and not weird at all. It was magical. And all from exploring Dad's dad bod. ---------- https://rodreywriter.wordpress.com (c)2021, Rod Rey. A.R.R. Please donate to Nifty!