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While wholly independent of “Meager Inheritance” This story has some overlap with it. The stories are meant to complement each other if read together. If you enjoy this story please check it’s companion out.

Cole laid out on his bed, at ten he wasn’t shooting yet, but that hadn’t stopped him from playing with his cock. Since he’d started playing sex games with his best friend he’d been stroking more, but lately he felt like he’d been stroking non stop.

Cole padded downstairs in his boxers, fully pitching a tent. He wasn’t worried about being seen, he lived alone with his dad and though they were always at least in their boxers, modesty wasn’t particularly important in the household. Besides, his dad probably wouldn’t see him. He’d slip into his office the moment he got home. The only difference between his dad being at work or home was the scent of cigars wafting out from his cave. Or the chatter of his friends in the room if he had other men over.

Brock was kind and loving but Cole felt every year his dad was more distant. Even at ten Cole suspected this was partially his fault. As long as he could remember he was attracted to men more than women, and since a fateful sex dream last year he knew he was gay. Cole felt that there was no way he could tell his dad, and not being accustomed to keeping secrets from his father that simple act of withholding seemed to put up a wall between them that seemed to be growing higher every day.

Perhaps it was this distance coupled with his new found lust that drove Cole on this particular night. But since he’d played with his best friend he couldn’t get the idea out of his head of how good it would have felt to share that with his own dad.

Cole knocked on the office door, and didn’t receive an answer. He wasn’t supposed to go in the office without his father’s express permission, something he was almost never granted, but he silently cracked the door open and stepped inside.

The office always impressed Cole, Cabinets of small fossils, bones, rare minerals, and shelves of books, framed four leather wingback chairs. His dad worked at the bank, Cole wasn’t sure what his dad did there, but his interests were always with nature. Coupled with the air redolent of cigars and the decanter of whiskey, the room was a perfect representation of the personality and masculinity of his dad.

Brock was alone tonight, the stub of a cigar having gone out in the small tray by the wingback he’d settled in, the whiskey glass beside it empty. Brock was laid out, head tilted to the side, legs spread wide. His dad was in his robe and boxers only, not uncommon for him to wear whether he had guests or not. Music was playing, his dad would listen to all kinds of music but classical was playing tonight. Cole could name some classical songs with pride but he wasn’t familiar with the one playing.

Under the cover of the music Cole crept forward. The opportunity was perfect for him, he took in the sight of his dad, a handsome man, with a mess of dark fur and trim, well tended beard. He had a pretty average build, a pronounced gut but thick biceps and not a lot of fat on the rest of his body. Cole always thought his dad reminded him of a gorilla, stout, bellied, strong, dark haired. He liked to think he’d look like one of those apes at the zoo one day, as it was he was more in line with a hairless chimp at his age. Thin and wiry.

Avoiding touching his father’s legs or gut Cole shakily opened the fly of his dad’s boxers. No part of his brain was considering an exit plan, he was overcome by desire and curiosity. When he saw the pale smooth base of his dad’s rod in his thick black bush Cole felt himself stiffen, and the last of his inhibitions fled as the blood rushed to his young cock.

Cole hooked his finger under his dad’s cock and fished it out. It took him a few tugs and his heart was thundering as he pulled it out.

Soft, it was about as big as his friend’s dad’s hard, cut like Cole’s was although his father’s cut seemed like it was halfway down his shaft. Cole didn’t really have a scar like that, his cut made a ring just around his head that over all gave him the look of simply not having a hood rather than having it removed.

Rather than moving his hand away Cole wouldn’t help but run his hand down that shaft. A precocious boy he’d read extensively about puberty, sex, sexuality, and genetics. No small part of the weight that this was the cock that made him was lost on the ten year old. And though he was undoubtedly aroused by his father's cock on display for him he held it more with awe than lust.

But as it started to fill out, the boy’s touch stimulating his father even in his sleep, Cole found himself snapped into a lustier gaze. By the time his father’s cock was fully firm Cole needed to get closer to it.

The boy leaned in, took in the musky scent of his father’s groin, a concentrated version of the familiar and comforting scent of his dad that gave Cole a rush of joy. And almost in a trance flicked his tongue out, a shiver going down his spine like a shock from where his pink tongue made contact with the shaft that made him. Hungrily, holding back as much as he could, awkwardly hanging over his father to minimize contact, he took the head in his mouth, tasted the root of his genesis.

Dizzy with lust, Cole looked up as he felt his dad shift. Brock hooked his hands behind his own head and looked down at his son. A long tense moment passed as Cole took in that his dad wasn’t yelling at him, asking him what was wrong with him. Cole wouldn’t have been surprised if those paws had whacked him rather than put up in acceptance. Taking his father’s silence as a go ahead the boy dove back in on his dad’s cock, letting his body rest between his open legs.

For five minutes the boy got his lips chapped on his dad’s hard rod. Stiff, around six inches, average width, it non the less was bigger than any cock he’d played with and was his own father’s, in his eye’s there was no cock more studly. The boy felt the taste of his dad’s cock shift, from the chalky testosterone laced flavor of his dry rod to the buttery sweet taste of his pre. When he felt his dad’s balls tighten, his already hard cock get stiffer, the boy suspected his father was about to shoot. When his dad released with a roar, bitter salty cum flooded his mouth. The taste of his father’s spunk was nothing like his young friends, and Cole instantly loved that taste. It was the taste of fertility, masculinity, power. But the bitterness of his dad’s load stood in stark contrast to the sweet taste of his best friend’s thin ejaculate.

“What have I told you about coming in here without permission boy?”

“I’m sorry dad, I...”

“You’re grounded for a week. I don’t want to talk about this until your punishment is over”

Five days into his house arrest, leaving only for school and sticking to books for entertainment, Cole got a reprieve to go to his best friend's house due to his good behavior through his grounding. It had been easy for Cole to accept the punishment, as far as he was concerned he had gotten off insanely easy.

There, in his regular routine of play, his best friend’s father joined them, and Cole experienced a new kind of connection a boy could have with a man. He came home in a dazed lust cut only by his anxiety over the talk his dad had alluded to. He was certain he’d be in more trouble for what he’d done and could only imagine that’s what this talk was about.

“Cole, get in here.” His dad yelled gruffly from the office.

Cole came as fast as he could, though his feet were dragging with nerves. He found his father in the same chair he’d been sucked off in. Wearing again only his boxers and robe.

“Take a seat boy.”

Coel sat in one of the large wingbacks across from his father.

“First off boy, what you did, touching a man while he’s asleep, without his permission, you will never do that again. Are we clear?”

“Yes dad.”

“Good boy.”

Brock took a cigar from the side table by his chair, clipped the end, lit a small wooden stick on fire and transferred the fire to his cigar as he puffed it.

“Go ahead boy, light your own.”

Cole fumbled with the same set up his dad had on his own little table by his chair. He looked at his dad questioningly, unsure if he was really about to be allowed to smoke one of his dad’s cigars.

“You can smoke this, you can smoke a cigar.” Brock said, grabbing himself by the groin to emphasize his point, “Besides, we’ve got something to celebrate tonight.”

Cole finally got the wooden stick to the cigar and puffed, he knew from books not to inhale. His dad grinned at him.

“I’ve been wanting you in here for a long time boy. But I thought you were too young. After the other night though, I think it’s time you learned something about your daddy.”

Cole continued to puff on the big cigar, it made him feel dizzy. It wasn’t a particularly good feeling, not particularly bad.

“I don’t just use my office as a smoking room, I bring my friends over to have sex in here, same as you did to me the other night. I’m gay son, I haven’t had sex with a woman since your mother left us.”

Cole found no words, the flood of relief that his dad was like him was too much. His eyes welled with unspilled tears.

“Before I properly break you into dad’s little club house I want to tell you some rules. First, nothing that happens in here gets spoken of outside of here. Second, I don’t want you playing with other men, smoking, or drinking outside of this room without my express permission. Third, when I introduce you to my smoking buddies you don’t do anything to them without their permission. They’ll return that courtesy to you.”

“Dad,” Cole finally choked out, “I’m gay too.”

Brock let out a bellowing laugh.

“I figured when I woke up to you sucking on my cock boy. Honestly I thought you might be before. I’m sorry if I’ve been distant lately, I’d seen the way you look at men, at me, I was trying to avoid this honestly. But that seal has been broken, what’s been done can’t be undone. You’re part of dad’s cigar club now.”

Cole grinned, it was as simple as that, his and his dad’s admission had reconnected that gap that had been building up. No more secret desires, no more separate play areas now that they were openly playing the same game.

Brock took the decanter and poured himself whiskey in the waiting glass.

“Pour yourself one boy. Don’t get used to this part, we’re toasting a special occasion.”

Cole poured, held the glass like his dad was. He felt so mature and grown up doing this with his dad. He cringed a bit, knowing feeling grown up was a boyish thought, but he couldn’t deny his excitement.

“You may be a boy but you’re showing me tonight you can handle running with men. To my son.”

Cole drank, he struggled not to cough more on the whiskey than he had on his father’s load.

“Keep smoking boy, take your time finishing that whiskey.”

Something about his son partaking in these masculine delights was getting Brock hard in his boxers. His son never looked so handsome as he did now, dwarfed by the leather wingback, whiskey in one hand, cigar in another. Brock rose, left his glass and cigar at the side table. Knelt in front of his boy. He rubbed his son’s groin through his jeans. Cole quickly stiffened. Brock pulled his son’s cock from his fly, leaned in, breathed in his boy’s scent.

Cole whimpered, overcome with the feeling of his own father’s breath on his rod, dizzy with the booze and nicotine. His dad ran his tongue from the base of his cock to his head.

“Doc gave you a beautiful cut boy.”

Cole’s cock strained. Brock took his son’s smooth cock in his mouth, Cole moaned and hit his cigar again, in less that thirty seconds he was dry cuming, his dad’s scruff on his rod, the warmth and wetness of his dad’s mouth, above all the wildness of it being his own father pleasing him, had completely overwhelmed the boy. The lightheaded dizziness from the combination of cigar, whiskey, and orgasm had the boy reeling, it was like a drug, unlike any play he’d experienced before.

“You’re still dry cumming. Damn.” Brock’s confidence wavered for just a moment. He looked on stunned at his son’s cock slick with his own spit before collecting himself and sitting back in his chair.

“Strip down boy.”

Cole set aside his cigar, took a swig of his whiskey, again squinting at the burning sensation, and took his clothes off.

“Not a hair on you, balls still tight, but cock growing. You may outhang your dad by the time you're done developing boy.”

Cole grinned.

“Come suck your daddy’s cock boy.”