Date: Fri, 7 Oct 2022 05:20:10 -0700 From: Jay Spear Subject: Tastes Change: DJ & Dad - Part 1 My stories are fiction and intended for readers 18 and up. All characters are assumed to be legal, consenting adults. This story deals with relationships among male family members. If that fantasy bothers you, stop reading. If you like this story, check out my Patreon! Lots more content there: patreon.com/jayspearstories The Nifty Archive has been a fantastic resource to all of us! Please consider supporting them with a donation: https://donate.nifty.org/. Tastes Change: DJ & Dad - Part 1 By Jay Spear When I was little, I hated it. Once a week, my dad's buddies would come over. They'd go out back and take over the porch, lighting up cigars, drinking beers, and bantering until late. Every Friday in every season--warm or cold--they'd be out there drinking, smoking, and cracking jokes all night long. I hated when the guys came over and my time in the backyard--planting an herb garden or reading a book on the patio--came to an end. It wasn't that they chased me out of the yard; I was allowed to stay. But their cigars were stinky, their talk was coarse. And I was a sensitive child, more likely to be playing setting up my sisters' dollhouse than tossing around a football. It was impossible that I'd ever join the guys' weekly arguments about this week's game or who had the best defensive line in the NFL. I was uncomfortable around their masculine rituals that, even from an early age, I knew I'd never participate in. I did not appreciate them. I resented them. But we all grow up, don't we? And our tastes change. The sweet soda you enjoy in your youth gives way to the delightfully bitter taste of coffee in adulthood. And as I crept up on adulthood myself and hit my late teens, my views on these nights began to change. We kids were usually around for these guys nights. And we were expected to help out when guests came over. I'd hang up coats when they'd arrive and wash the dishes when they left, so my mom could retire to the bedroom with Dad. I'd hear their moans and thumps while I was elbow deep in suds. I'd just stand there at the sink, my teen cock swelling up as I heard them, and I'd press my crotch hard up against the counter while I listened. My sisters were older than me and they served the drinks and food, at least until they married and left the house. Between the coats and the dishes, I had time to hang out and watch everything, and learn. Vicky was the oldest and she filled out first. Big, soft breasts stretched out her shirts, and in the summer her shorts barely made it past her butt. I didn't understand the fashion, but it seemed to resonate with the football players at school. She always had dates on the weekends. I saw how my dad's buddies reacted when she brought them beers or a plate of cold cuts. "Looking real nice, honey," they'd say. "Thanks for the cool one." They'd wink, maybe, and she'd smile back, earning a pat on the butt as she walked away to serve the next one. She knew her attractiveness and I was jealous of it. "Men are easy, DJ," she'd tell me. "They think with their dicks." I was learning this to be true. These days, I was constantly aware of mine: stiffening and aching at all the wrong things: men. Older men. Teachers, coaches, my dad's friends. Even my dad himself when he strutted from the hallway shower down to his bedroom, clad only in a towel. I would replay those images in my head at night as I furiously beat off under the covers. "You're a damn fine waitress, Vick," Jerry used to tell her. He'd tuck a $20 into the waistband of her shorts. "Thanks for taking care of us." "The pleasure's all mine, Jer," she'd say with a wink. And they'd all laugh, even my dad. "Now the rest of you pony up, too. I've got beauty school to pay for in the fall." And they'd do it! They'd all hand over a few bills. She was beautiful and brazen and she had them in the palm of her hand. "The money's good, DJ. It's part of why I stay at home on Fridays instead of going out with Steve. But I also like Jerry too. He's dirty old man, but I'm into it." It was true. Once, I went inside to use the bathroom and I saw two figures in the darkness of the pantry off the kitchen. I stared into the dark until I could make out it who it was. Vicky was on her knees with Jerry's hands on the back of her head. "Yeah, just like that princess," he told her. I took a mental picture. Something else for my nighttime sessions under the covers. When Vicky started cosmetology school and moved in with Steve, my sister Keri took her place serving beers. Her breasts were smaller than Vicky's but her ass was bigger, more ample, and she garnered a similar appreciation from the guys. She was not so bold as to collect money from them, but she appreciated the attention and used it to get a good job out of Mike--answering phones at his insurance firm. The takeaway for me was that a good body could maybe get us out of our blue collar life. I threw myself into exercise. I began hitting the gym, training myself into a taut, athletic physique that excelled at track and field: sprints, pole vaulting. But I tried to lift while I was there too: mostly squats. I had seen how a nicely shaped ass could be important. When Keri left the house, it was just me who was left. I wondered if I'd ever leave the house, leave this town. I had graduated and was dying to go to college but couldn't afford it yet. I was living at home, working, and saving up--for someday. So I had nothing better to do on Friday nights and I began to serve the beers. At first the guys thought it was hilarious. They catcalled me: "DJ, get me another beer, baby." Or, "Hold this for me, sweetie. I gotta go in and take a piss." They'd swat me on the ass and my dad would chuckle. That time in the gym had been well worth it. One time I was in the kitchen refilling the plate of cheese and salami when Jerry was coming back from the bathroom. "Your shorts are much too long, baby," he told me with a laugh. "You should get a pair from Vicky, maybe." "Maybe she left some in the pantry," I said. He gave me a surprised look. He probably had no idea I'd seen them in there, years ago. But his surprised look gave way to a grin and he nodded in that direction. I set the plate down and walked to the pantry to take a place on my knees. "Hot damn," he said, following me in. He unbuckled and let his cock tumble out of his pants. "You done this before?" "Does it matter?" I replied. I took him in my mouth. His cock stiffened right up and I wasted no time. Within minutes, he pumped a hot salty load down my throat. "Thanks, kid." He patted my head and zipped up. "Better get back." That night as I lay in my bed and beat off, I could still smell the funk of his pubes and taste the saltiness of his load in the back of my throat. *** By the next week, word had spread. Joe took me into the pantry. Mike caught me at the garage. Frank got me the week after, pulling out at the last minute and spraying my face with cum. I wiped that up with a kitchen towel that I then stashed in my bedroom. Later that night I draped it across my face, smelling Frank in that dried cum-crust while I jacked myself off. I fell asleep with a big smile on my face. I don't know who told Dad. Maybe no one told him directly. Maybe he simply noticed a new intensity when one of the guys grabbed my ass as I leaned over with beers for the table. Maybe he saw their flushed faces when they came back from taking a piss. Maybe it was just a father's intuition to know that his only son was even more cock-hungry than his two daughters. But neither Vicky nor Keri had ever had Dad himself. Neither wanted him. As always, I was different. When the guys cleared out for the night, it left Dad alone with me and the knowledge of what kind of son he had. I went out to clear up the empty bottles and the plates. "Sit down, DJ." I took a seat as he pulled a another cigar from his shirt pocket, cut the end, and lit it. He continued. "I'm given to understand that my son's a cocksucker." I nodded. "Swallowed just about every one of my buddies. That right?" "Are you mad?" "Can't say I'm surprised." He looked at me as he drew on his cigar, rolled the smoke around in his mouth, and exhaled. "But don't keep things from me, DJ. I should know everything that goes on in my house." "Of course." "Let me see how you do." "Dad?" "The other guys know your skills, said you're real good. Suck me off while I finish this cigar. I'll judge for myself. I want to know what they're talking about." "For real, Dad?" "Shut up and start sucking." He unbuckled his belt and I slid down to my knees, taking my place at his feet. I wrestled his cock free from his jeans and took him into my mouth. I had been rock hard from the moment this conversation started, but now that I felt him in my mouth, now that I actually tasted my Dad's cock, my own dick jumped and throbbed in my pants. As Dad's cock continued growing and filling up my mouth, I tasted its funk and could feel all its contours. I pictured it entering my mom, like all those the nights I had heard them through the walls. I thought about the fact that those nights, and this cock--now in my mouth!--had produced me and my two sisters. Jesus. Using my mouth, my tongue, my whole self, I gave thanks in the only way I knew how. "That's real good, DJ. Keep sucking, boy." He sighed and reclined back further in his chair. He puffed away on the cigar as I made my mouth useful to him. Neither of us was in a hurry. He was enjoying his smoke, I was enjoying his cock, and although silent, we were relating to each other as closely as we had ever been. It was at least 30 minutes later, with his cigar smoked down nearly to the nub, that my long, slow blowjob brought him to whisper: "Gonna cum, DJ...get ready for for my load." I was ready for it. I had been ready for it for years. I swallowed him eagerly. Tongued his long shaft as I cleaned him up greedily. I didn't want to waste a drop. "Thanks, DJ. That was pretty damn good." He stood up and put his pants back on. Pretty good? Shit, I thought, I'll have to do better next time. If there was a next time. I hoped there would be a next time. "The guys," he stated. "Any of them fuck you?" "No, sir." "Good. Let's keep it that way." He looked around at the patio and at me, still on my knees, rubbing my dick through my shorts. "Clean all this up, DJ. I'm going in to your mother." As the door closed behind him, I fished out my dick and stroked it furiously. The neighbors might have seen me, but I didn't care. I was too keyed up to take the time to go inside. I had to release all of this pent up excitement--years of it, really--right now. Within a minute I erupted and flooded the flagstones on the patio. Jesus. Lord Almighty. Would the world ever be the same? END Part 1. Stay tuned for Part 2.