Date: Sat, 21 May 2016 12:39:11 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101@yahoo.com
Subject: The Swimsuit

Here's a story taken from my Tumblr, at a4f101.tumblr.com/storytime. You
can find this one, and the pic that inspired it, here:
http://a4f101.tumblr.com/post/117047149274/

This story is purely a work of adult erotic fantasy, copyright me 2016. I
own it and all legal rights to it. If you're under the age of majority in
your jursdiction, please come back when you're of legal age.

Nifty is an incredible free service that depends on your donations to
survive. It changed my life, and maybe it's changed yours too. Please help
them to keep providing this awesome resource for all of us:
http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

I love hearing from you guys. a4f101@yahoo.com. Enjoy.

*****

I'll admit, I was at a loss for words when Garrett peeled off his loose
T-shirt down on the beach, and I saw the suit he was wearing. He'd
certainly worn smaller ones, back in his water polo days, but this wasn't
the pool. This was the beach, and he sure didn't look like he did back
then. He was all man now, muscular, with a thick fan of dark fur across the
big swell of his pecs, tapering down over an impressively rippling core,
thickening on the flat expanse of his lower belly, right above the big
mound of his cock. The cut of the suit accentuated the thick, hairy power
of his thighs, the trimness of his hips, and when I saw the twin, muscled
mounds of his ass shifting under the blue fabric, the swells of it rising
over the waistband, I swallowed hard as I realized that my son had a pretty
fucking incredible ass on him. Pretty incredible everything, and I guess I
hadn't really thought about it all until I saw him in that suit. I felt old
and flabby and prudish in comparison, in my loose board shorts and T-shirt,
and looking like he did, there was no way in hell I was going to invite
comparison by showing any more of myself than necessary.

It turns out, that kind of suit is no big deal in Brazil, and I saw all
kinds of guys wearing similar ones, or even smaller. Not just young, fit
studs like my son, but guys older than me, kids, all kinds of guys in all
kinds of swimsuits that would definitely get a few frowns back home in
Maryland. Brazilians, however, apparently had a different attitude to
showing their bodies off, a certain sense of ease and self-confidence that
was startling at first, but oddly refreshing the more of it I saw. I'd been
holed up on the construction site for almost six months back in Rio, no
time for beach visits while we struggled to get the facility up and running
before the Games in 2016. Seeing the sights hadn't occurred to me until I'd
brought my son down to help me out on the project. He'd recently graduated
with his architecture degree, and was eager for some boots-on-the-ground
experience on the construction side. He'd helped me out a lot on various
projects all through his college years, and his work ethic, youthful energy
and fresh perspective were exactly what I'd needed down here. Turns out, I
needed him to pull my workaholic head out of my ass too, something his
mother had never managed to do, which is why she'd divorced me.

"You're looking much more relaxed already, Dad," he said with an easy grin
as we strolled down the beach, the clusterfuck of Rio hundreds of miles
away. Nothing but warm sand, the sea, and a steady parade of beautiful
Brazilians - of both genders - enjoying it with us. Garrett fit right in.

"Taking a cue from you, kid," I smiled back. "I gotta say, that's a pretty
damn relaxed suit you got on there."

"Hey, when in Rome, or Brazil, I guess," he chuckled. Gave me an appraising
look. "I bet you'd look pretty good in one of these, you know."

"Ah, bullshit," I laughed, slapping him on his big bare shoulder. "But
thanks for giving an old fart like me hope."

"I'm serious," he said, still grinning. "Once you get over the awkwardness,
see everybody else wearing `em, it's kind of... liberating. And hell,
you've got a great build, you could absolutely rock one of these."

I laughed it off, and we went back to strolling, letting the warm water
wash over our feet and calves, talking about the project and life and the
future and all kinds of things. Half the time, I watched the men in their
little suits, no shame at all no matter how they were built, and I kept
glancing back at my big, built son. I could admit it - he looked sexy as
hell. He was getting all kinds of admiring gazes. Mine among them.

Later, after dinner and some beers and caipirinhas at the hotel, he
suggested another beach walk. We both had a pretty good buzz on, and I was
very relaxed. When he came to my room, and saw me back in my board shorts
and loose shirt, he frowned and shook his head.

"No way, big guy," he said, pushing me back inside and closing the door. He
had that little suit on again and a fitted T-shirt that accentuated the big
young muscles underneath beautifully. He looked like a young god. I started
to protest, but he wouldn't be denied.

"Fuck it," he said, voice warm and loose with the liquor we'd drunk. "It's
dark out. You're on vacation thousands of miles from home. C'mon, lose the
old-man gear. Time to go native."

I shrugged, peeled off my shirt, felt his eyes all over me in the low-lit
hotel room. Appraising. He nodded slightly as he took in my form. My body
was still hard, years of construction work and heavy lifting giving me the
kind of strong, natural solidity that he had, only not so defined as him. A
little thicker in the midsection, and definitely looser there.

"Shorts, too," he said in that low voice, grinning.

"This is all I got for the beach, bud," I chuckled. He cocked his head,
grinned some more, eyes on mine, and then he peeled off his own shirt, then
hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his suit and began to slip it down
those trim hips, down his thick thighs. I swallowed hard. He never once
broke eye contact, not even as that big cock of his slid out, hanging thick
and solid and comfortable in the warm sea breeze coming through the open
patio door.

"Uh, son, what -" I started, but he just smiled, shook his head.

"Try it on, Dad," he said, and that warm, easy smile, his deep gaze, his
low, almost hypnotic voice got to me. I found myself pulling the velcro fly
of my shorts open, and felt them slip down my own strong legs in a bright
puddle on the floor. And there we were, two naked men, half-staring at each
other in a beachside hotel room thousands of miles from home. A father and
son, on our own. No boundaries. He just handed me his little suit, nodded
again, and I stepped into it. It was still warm from his body, and I found
my own cock solidifying as I felt that warmth, as I slipped the little
thing up over my ass, reached in to settle my cock so it wouldn't look too
obscene.

Garrett turned me around in front of the big mirror, still naked himself,
and looked me over appraisingly, one warm hand on my bare shoulder. The way
his eyes traveled over my body, all crammed into that suit, the slow nod he
gave, the smile on his face when our eyes met and he saw me blushing, all
sent a prickle up my spine. I had to admit, even though I could stand to
lose five or ten pounds, the suit looked way better on me than I thought it
might.

"Yeah, Dad," he said in that low, warm voice. "I told you. You look good in
it. Damn good, in fact."

"Yeah, buddy?" I said hoarsely, eyes locked in the mirror. "You really
think so?"

"I do," he said, his hand trailing down off my shoulder, down my back a
little. I shivered lightly. He grinned. "It suits you. You got a great
body, all big and thick. natural. Better than most of the guys down there
today."

"Thanks," I chuckled a little nervously. "But you don't need to flatter
me. You're the one built for this little thing, not me."

"You like how I look in it, Dad?" he said, and his confident, almost
playful tone, the look in his eyes, sent another shiver through me. To my
alarm, I felt my cock growing, thickening, filling the pouch of his suit
out even more. I found myself nodding dumbly. To be honest, the image of
him in this suit had sat in the back of my brain all day, and sometimes
right up front. "Because I like how you look in it too. Very much."

His hands trailed down my sides, his fingertips brushing lightly over my
hips, over the blue fabric, and when his lips pressed to my shoulder, his
eyes locked on mine in the mirror the whole time, I let out a helpless
little moan. I was always so sure of myself, used to being in charge on the
site, in control. Not now.

"You look fucking sexy, Dad," he went on, his lips moving against the skin
of my shoulder, his fingertips tracing over the mounds of my ass, all
crammed into his suit. We both saw how hard I was in it now, my cock
throbbing, constrained and showcased in the suit, and for the first time, i
felt the hot, steely press of his own big young cock against my hip. I
moaned again, and felt the tip of his tongue against my warm skin, as his
hands returned to my hips and turned me to face him. Then I finally found
my voice, low and buzzed and speaking the words I`d never ordinarily let
myself say.

"Not as sexy as you did today, son," I murmured. "Today... all the time."

"Yeah, Dad?" he said, smiling, and all I could do was nod dumbly, and then
his lips were on mine, my hands were slipping onto his naked hips, pulling
him close, and I felt his rigid thickness pressing into mine through his
suit as I moaned into the deep, wet kiss he offered me.

I hadn't tumbled with another man in some time, but clearly Garrett was no
virgin, and looking the way he did, I wasn't surprised. His hands and lips
were skilled, insistent, and I lost myself in them as he pulled me down
onto my bed and began to slowly work my body over, making me leak a darker
patch into the pale blue fabric of his suit, a patch that spread and
thickened as his lips and tongue lapped at it and the paternal cock encased
beneath. The moon on the water outside, the warm breeze coming through, the
sounds of the surf were almost as magical as the feeling of his thick,
hairy young body against mine, a body a lot like the one I'd had at 24,
only so much better. My son's body.

That beautiful young man's body glowed with sweat as he ground his big,
dripping young cock against mine, the swimsuit soaked through with our
manly fluids as we kissed long and hard and wet. he looked amazing, my big
thighs wrapped around him, felt amazing as my hands groped the big, hard,
dimpling muscles of his spectacular ass thrusting harder and deeper against
me.

"Cum in my swimsuit, Dad," he panted. "Always imagined that. Since I was a
kid. You cumming in my suit for me while I watched. Shooting your Dad cum
in my suit, right off of my fucking body..."

I moaned, gasped, felt my balls tighten up, my whole body tingling, that
slow heat from my loins spreading up though my belly, down my thighs, and
up the shaft of my big, hard cock, all wet and sticky inside his trunks,
and as Garrett fed me his spit-slicked tongue and ground even harder
against me, I lost it. Howled into his mouth as I pumped shot after shot of
hot, sticky cum inside the humid pouch of his suit, filled it with my
paternal load as I imagined his old teen water polo suits on me as I shot
in them, as I felt the hard clutch of his glutes now, the sweat and the fur
covering them as he whimpered into my mouth, and then the hot spurts of his
own young load shooting into the pouch with me, up my stomach, clear up to
my heaving, hairy pecs.

We stared at each other, panting, as our cocks dribbled out the last slow,
thick traces of our cum together, all over and inside his swimsuit. Then he
grinned, big white teeth glowing in the low light, and I started to laugh,
and soon he joined me, laughing and panting as I pulled his sexy, muscled
weight down on top of me. Laughing, then kissing, then my hands stroking
through his short, thick, sweaty dark hair. After a minute or two, I felt
his hand slip inside the pouch of the trunks, and I grunted in surprise as
he fished around, spreading my still-warm cum thickly over my cock,
bringing his dripping fingers up and smiling deeply at me, eyes on mine as
he sucked them clean. My cum, on his lips and tongue, then hungrily
swallowed. All I could do was stare.

It was a singular experience, watching him kneel beside me on the bed, his
cock arcing upwards again as he took the swimsuit off of me and hungrily
devoured my cum from inside it, then his from the outside, sucking it from
the fabric with a hungry, grunting little moan. I was surprised to find
myself rigid, aching, ready to roll again, just like him, and this time, we
took it slower, longer, deeper, slowly building up to a second explosion
together as I licked and explored his hard-cut body, his fur-trimmed
youthful muscles. His muscular thighs clenched tightly around me as I
pushed my sticky, drooling Dad cock up inside the warm, furry tightness of
his hole, savoring his open-mouthed stare, his whimpers as I thrust up
deeply into his warmth, slow-fucking the cum from us both in the wreckage
of my sweaty sheets.

When morning came around, I stirred and found myself alone in the bed. If
it wasn't for the pervasive musk of sweat and cum on the tangled sheets,
the pleasant soreness of muscles I hadn't used in some time, the tingle in
my balls, I might have thought I'd fantasized the whole thing in a haze of
cheap beer and Brazilian cane liquor. And then I heard the rattle of the
keycard in the hotel room door, and there he was, dressed and grinning at
me, a shopping bag in his hand as he came in.

"Up for another trip to the beach, Dad?" he grinned, plopping his sexy ass
next to me, reaching over to rub his hand up my stomach and chest as he
dropped the bag beside me. I looked inside. Saw a little suit a lot like
his, only in white.

"C'mon, I want to see you in it, big guy," he grinned. "I already rinsed
our cum out of mine. Let's get `em on, go try `em out... then come back
here and try `em out some more. What do you say, you big fucking stud?"

What the hell, I figured as I kicked back the sheet and reached for him and
his smiling, eager lips. When in Rome - or Brazil...