Date: Tue, 13 Dec 2016 00:28:29 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101@yahoo.com
Subject: The 12 Tales of Christmas: A Reason To Come Home

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/135219492629/

You can also find a whole lot more of my stories here on Nifty - look for
'a4f101' in the Prolific Authors listing.

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 jurisdiction, 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.

*****

"What do you mean, you're not coming home?" Dad said down the line. In the
background, I could hear PJ saying, "He what?"

What was I supposed to tell them? That I'd rather spend the holiday here on
campus, pretty much on my own, because... That the reason I'd moved all the
way to the other side of the country to go to school wasn't for the damn
baseball program, but... That it wasn't that I didn't love them, or want to
see them, I just...

Fuck, man. I knew this was gonna be a problem. I knew as soon as I left the
house back in August to head to college, that I couldn't come back. Not for
awhile, anyway. Not `til I'd sorted out the shit in my head. You try having
two Dads. It's a lot to deal with. Especially when you think you might have
got the gene too. That you're gay like them.

And then, throw into the mix the fact that your two gay dads are fucking
hot, and that your possibly-gay ass has a big definitely-gay bone for
them. Your own parents. That since you were a kid, and then even more so
once you hit puberty, you've been crushing on the men who created you,
raised you, gave you an amazing upbringing. I thought it might be a phase,
some kind of weird psychological thing about having two fathers. But even
now, at 18, my hardon for my fathers was just as intense as ever. Even more
so, actually.

Like, when I lost my cherry to Sarah Pollard back when I was 16, the one
thing keeping my cock hard was the fantasy highlight reel playing out
inside my head. Pictures of me and my dads, naked, doing what I'd rather be
doing with them. Yeah, I got off, and hard. She did too, and that was
something to be proud of, I guess. But I felt all weird inside afterwards,
the same way I did after every single jackoff session. Because for all my
hot buddies, my sexy coaches, the studly dudes on Tumblr, the two I kept
circling back to were my own fathers.

Maybe what made it worse was that I was literally their son - not adopted
or fostered or whatever. Dad and Papa Joe - PJ - had gone to all the
trouble and expense of finding a surrogate to carry their sperm. They
hadn't told me in so many words, but I had the idea they'd mixed both
theirs up - and fuck, the cum I shot imagining that, jesus - and rolled the
genetic dice to see who came out on top. So to speak. I was pretty clearly
Dad's - I had his frame and most of his features, and I was kind of a
baseball stud like he'd been in college - but I felt just as connected to
PJ, too. Which was part of the problem.

Years and years of hearing them fucking - trying to be quiet, but still,
I'd be there outside their closed bedroom door, hand in my undies, beating
furiously on my hard young dick as I listened to my fathers make each other
cum. And then the cherry on top of that was hearing Dad call PJ "Dad" in
bed, and hearing PJ call him "Son" right back, and that's when I knew
everything was fucked and that life with my fathers was going to be a
problem for me.

So, I'd decided not to go home for the holidays. Couldn't deal, right
now. Needed space. I still loved them - in the non-pervy way, I mean - and
I knew it was gonna be tough for all of us, but I just didn't think I could
handle a couple of weeks back in my boyhood bed, trying not to listen to
them fucking, trying not to imagine their hairy, muscular bodies writhing
together, their tongues exploring each other, whispering pervy fantasy
roleplay talk - fuck. Now I was hard again.

We argued about it, PJ getting on the extension in their bedroom to push
their case, but I guess even if I didn't maybe have his DNA, I sure had his
bullheadedness. After a half-hour of going back and forth, I could hear the
defeat in Dad's voice - defeat and sadness, too, which made me feel like
the worst person in the world. Definitely the worst son. If they only knew
how well that title fit me...

"Your Dad's pretty hurt, buddy," PJ said the next day. I'd meant to decline
his call, but I'd sucked it up and answered.

"I know, and I'm sorry, I hate it, PJ," I said lamely. "But I can't. It's
hard to explain. I just..."

"I think I get it, Scotty," PJ said. "The reason you don't want to - can't
come home. To us. Why you wanted to go to school all the way out there,
instead of closer to home."

"I..." I said, then petered out, my throat all dry. PJ was older than Dad,
smart as hell, and you could never pull any shit over on him. It's why he
made such a kickass lawyer. He could read just about anybody like a book,
and it seemed like he could read me especially well.

"You don't have to say anything, son," he said. "I get it. You're like us,
aren't you, bud? And that scares you, doesn't it?"

I guess my silence told him the answer. I didn't have the words.

"Do we scare you, son? Is that it?"

"No," I said weakly. "Yes. No. It's not you guys. I love you
both. It's... it's me. I scare myself. And I dunno how to say it. But
like... that's why I can't be around you guys right now. For awhile,
maybe. Because I'm scared of myself, around you. I feel like... something's
fucked up in my head, PJ. Like I'm not right. Broken, or
something. Wrong. And I gotta figure that out, before I can come home
again. Do you understand that?"

I was crying now. Trying to keep it quiet, but there I was, curled up on my
dorm room bed, tears rolling down my face, my guts in knots. I was a
fucking mess.

"I understand, Scotty," he said, a little catch in his voice too. "We
understand. Your Dad will, anyway. Just know that we love you, no matter
what, no matter who you are or how you feel. Nothing trumps that, OK
buddy?"

"OK, Dad," I said quietly. I rarely called him Dad - too confusing, with
two of them. `PJ' was easier, and he liked it. But I knew he liked being
called Dad too.

We talked a little more about general bullshit, and I still didn't feel
great about everything when we hung up, but I knew they didn't hate me, at
least. And they knew I didn't hate them, either. Now I could focus on... I
don't know, something. Getting better. Maybe go find a counselor to talk to
on campus.

And then I got the e-mail from them two days later, and everything changed.

"Come home, son. We understand. We've talked about it, a lot - for longer
than you think. We think family should be together, no matter what. So
please, come home.

Love always, your Dads."

There was an e-ticket back to DC, business class. And a .jpeg
attachment. Dad and PJ, Dad in pale blue boxer briefs, PJ in designer
trunks in nearly the same shade of baby blue. Big, muscled, hairy, in
spectacular shape for two middle-aged men. My fathers. Big bulges in their
underwear, nearly naked, showing me something. Not just their hot bodies -
more than that. Showing me them. Welcoming me. Telling me they
understood. An invitation, in more ways than one. I might have been a big
jock and all, but I wasn't stupid. I got it immediately, on a gut level.

I stroked out a hard, intense, moaning load all over my abs and chest,
phone in my left hand, cock in my right, staring at that picture. The
latest in years' worth of loads I'd shot for my Dads. Maybe the biggest,
most intense one yet. And then I packed my bags.

My cock cycled between full hardness and a semi for most of the plane ride,
but my stomach was all in knots when I walked through security at Dulles
and saw them waiting there for me. Big, handsome, smiling at me. I blushed
and smiled back, feeling my guts unknot a little and a warm tingle replace
that. No matter what, I loved these men, my family. It was a little awkward
when they stretched their arms out and I hesitated, but I got over myself
and let them embrace me, before embracing them right back. Dad was always
the real hugger of the family, and he squeezed me tight with his big
ex-jock's arms, as PJ's big hand patted between my shoulder blades, then
slid up to squeeze my shoulder.

"So damn glad you came home, buddy," Dad said with a catch in his voice.

"Welcome home, son," PJ said, his deep voice sending that old familiar
shiver through my insides, as I surrendered to their warmth and just tried
not to cry. And tried not to throw another bone in my jeans right there in
Arrivals.

It was awkward there for awhile. There was something unspoken in the air
between us, something we all knew but hadn't really said aloud. And what PJ
had said in the e-mail - that they'd been talking about my problem for
longer than I'd known - kept ringing in my mind. The house was full of a
kind of tension, and when PJ poured a bourbon for him and Dad, and then one
for me, before they sat down on the big leather couch, PJ patting the empty
seat between them, I felt that knot in my guts retighten. But I went over
and sat, and tried not to be all rigid with nerves. It took a while for the
conversation to start flowing, but PJ used his pro lawyer's skills to get
us going, and by the time he'd poured a second drink - smaller for me, I
noticed - we were talking like men do. Like family. Like we'd always done,
really.

"We know it's not an easy thing, having two dads," he said. "You put up
with a lot of shit over the years. We worried about you, a lot."

"But you came through it like a champ, buddy," Dad went on. "We wondered
who you might grow up to be, of course. But we knew you'd be OK. Because
you're our boy."

I ducked my head, blushing at the bourbon and the warmth of the fire and
the compliments.

"Me and your Dad, we take family seriously," PJ continued. "And I think
maybe you understand that for him and me, family has... well, a deeper
meaning."

"Stronger," Dad put in. "Bigger."

I nodded, looking from one to the other almost shyly. Working up my
courage.

"I know you guys are... like... when you're together, that you, uh... you
play some things out..." I eventually managed, blushing twice as hard.

"You could say that, son," PJ said easily, and I felt his hand graze the
back of my neck, along the top of the couch. "It's not easy for some to
understand. Not a conversation we ever imagined having with you."

"But it's not really play, Scotty," Dad said, setting his hand on my knee
in his I-am-really-talking-to-you-seriously-now way. "What me and PJ are
together, when we're together - that's who we are to each other. Who we've
always been, even before you came along."

"Dad and son, you mean," I blurted. "Not just husbands. You're that to each
other too."

"It's hard to explain, buddy..." Dad started, but I shook my head and
downed the rest of my drink, warm fire flowing through my insides, helping
loosen all the knots.

"No, not to me, it isn't," I said. Sensed them waiting quietly for me to
speak my mind. Not pushing.

"I get it, Dads," I said after a second. "Because... I think I'm like that
too. Like you guys. You made me, after all. And I think I'm just like you."

"How so, son?" PJ said gently, coaxingly.

"Because I need to be with my Dad too," I said, eyes prickling with tears -
embarrassed, but glad to finally say it out loud. "My Dads. I want to be
with you guys. Your son, sure. But... like Dad is your son, PJ. That part
of it too. All of it."

I looked at them. They looked at me. PJ was smiling, Dad's eyes shiny with
tears - damn, I am so much like him - but smiling too. One paternal hand
squeezing the back of my neck gently, encouragingly, while the other did
the same on my knee.

"Would you guys, like... want me like that, too? Want me to be part of this
thing you got?"

PJ looked at Dad, a moment of silent partner communication between
them. Then back to me, smiling.

"We talked about it, son," he said. "Never really thought you'd be wired
that way. Into that. But I suppose we had an inkling..."

"Like when our shorts kept turning up under your bed, all crusty," Dad said
with a warm chuckle, and I halfway cringed, until his big ex-ballplayer
hand squeeze-stroked my leg.

"Among other things," PJ chuckled, then subtly shifted in closer to me. On
the other side of me, I felt Dad doing the same. "But it's a big thing to
admit, son. Even bigger to imagine."

"And we did imagine, buddy," Dad said, his hand slow stroking, setting my
cock to a quick rise in my jeans. "Often."

"Yeah?" I said huskily, looking at him, his handsome face full of paternal
love for me, that familiar mix of humor and tenderness and warmth, and now
something else in the mix too. Kind of intent, and heated. He nodded.

"Yeah, son," he said, as PJ's forearm slipped round my neck, his big hand
rubbing my pec slowly, warmly. "You have no idea. But then, maybe you
do. Probably not as much as you imagined us like that. But it was just a
fantasy, buddy. Harmless. Beautiful, but just an idea."

"This is reality now though, son," PJ said, his lips closer to my ear than
before, his hand doing that maddening, stimulating circular stroke on my
pec. "It's different. Bigger. Could change everything."

I looked at him, that same mix of tenderness and heat in his eyes as Dad's.

"But everything now is broken, Dad," I said. "In me, anyway. I'm fuckin'
miserable. Because I love you guys, and lately I think I love you too much,
and how is that even possible? But that's how I feel. And I hate it. And I
can't be like that anymore. Something has to change."

"You know that no matter what happens - now, tonight, whenever - we love
you, right buddy?" Dad said, his hand moving steadily further up my inner
thigh, feeling the thickness of the muscles there, thighs like his. My
heart was beating harder, my cock pulsing in time with it, and I could feel
the slow growth of wetness inside my boxer briefs.

"And nothing has to happen at all, son," PJ said.

"No," I said, surprising myself with the force of it. "The first time I
heard you guys being like that together - being dad and son in bed - I
was... jealous. And I knew right then, as wrong as it was - it felt right
to me. I wanted it. Wanted to be part of that with you. Have you as my dads
that way too. And when you sent me that picture, that told me that maybe
you wanted me to be part of it with you too. So tell me if you
do. Otherwise I'll go back to Oregon."

"No, son," PJ said. "We're spending the holiday together."

"And were doing it as family, buddy," Dad said, and like they'd planned it,
they both leaned in close to me. I felt PJ's lips touch mine, and Dad's on
the side of my neck, their hands moving deeper on my body, and I moaned and
shivered and damn near came in my underwear.

From that point, it was easy. Beautiful. Intense. I started to kiss PJ
back, my own father, kissing him like I'd imagined doing since I was a boy
and spying on him and Dad kissing as lovers. And just as my head was
adjusting to that reality, there was Dad on the other side of me, and I was
turning to kiss him too, moaning in reply to his grunt as his tongue found
mine, and PJ's lips caressed the other side of my neck.

We moaned and shifted in tighter together on the couch, the fire crackling
in the background as we bonded tighter, deeper, hands caressing, lips
traveling, tongues exchanging soft and wet and deep. It was a fucking trip,
and I could have died happily right there and then - but when my Dads
slowly pulled away from me and stood, each with a hand outstretched to me,
and with big, hard bulges in their jeans for me, I knew the trip was just
beginning.

They each took me by the hand and led me to their bedroom, their king-size
bed like an altar in the temple. I found myself surrounded by man, by my
fathers, as their hands worked my belt undone and my shirt off, my own
hands fumbling with their clothes as they chuckled against my lips and my
neck and helped me undress them, until the three of us stood in our
underwear, raging hard for one another. I was tentative as I reached out to
touch the fur that carpeted their strong, mature bodies, until they took my
hands in theirs and guided them more firmly to their bodies, encouraging me
to explore. I felt that deep mix of awe, love and lust swell inside of me,
the same complex stew of emotions I'd felt since I was a boy, in total awe
of my handsome, muscular fathers. But free to explore them now, not
inhibited anymore, allowed to touch and taste and lick. I realized that it
must have been the same for them, as it took the three of us a few awkward
moments to get into the groove of it. But then we clicked together, the
touches growing bolder, longer, as we swapped tongues and touches and
grunts and whispers.

"Got our boy with us at last, Dad," Dad moaned to PJ, and the two of them
kissed, slow and deep and wet and noisy in front of me as I gaped at them,
throbbing hard in my shorts.

"Damn right, son," PJ said. "Both my beautiful boys, finally. Like we were
meant to be."

Fuck. It was like they were hardwired into my brain or something, knowing
just how to talk to me, just what to say to inflame me even more. I growled
hungrily and kissed them both, taking turns exploring the textures of their
mouths, tasting their spit, feeling the crisp warmth of their fur on the
smoothness of my younger skin. My heart was racing, my head spinning, and
I'd never been happier in my life.

It was amazing to look down the length of my body at them as my fathers
knelt at my feet, hands caressing the strong muscles of my baseball
player's thighs, kissing and licking, inhaling my scent, working their way
up my quads to the muscles of my stomach, all but ignoring the throbbing
length of my son cock between their handsome faces. They smiled at each
other, then up at me, and then slowly ran their tongues up the length of my
cock, making me grunt and moan and clutch the backs of their heads as they
licked their way to the pulsing tip of my cock, and then into another
searing kiss with my head between them. First PJ, then Dad took turns
wrapping their lips and tongues around the tip of me, then slowly sucking
me down. Nearly 70 years of combined experience with men between them, and
it showed in the way they took turns slowly sucking me to the brink, before
backing off to allow the other his turn at me. Something about watching
each of my fathers slurp up his husband's spit from my son cock drove me
slowly nuts inside, and their wandering hands exploring my thighs and the
strong muscles of my ass only intensified it all.

They seemed to know just when to back off, and eventually they rose to
their feet, kissing each other before pulling me into them to kiss me at
the same time, three family tongues exploring and wrestling, dancing
really, sharing the taste of my cock and precum with me. I didn't need to
be told or guided - I sank to my knees before them, in awe, exploring their
hard-muscled thighs as they moaned encouragement at me, their faces beaming
with pride, love and lust as I took each of their big paternal cocks in
hand and stroked bubbles of precum slowly from their tips.

"We love you, son," PJ said, as Dad ruffled my hair affectionately.

"And I love you too, Dads," I murmured, then set to work.

I licked up and down the length of them, fulfilling just one of the
millions of fantasies I'd had about them since my young cock started
getting hard all on its own. Savored the rich, mineral taste of them,
comparing and contrasting the subtle differences. I had a little bit of
experience sucking cock, not too much, but I was very eager to do right by
them, so I replayed in my mind all the porn I'd seen, the way girls had
sucked on my cock back in high school, the way I'd watched girls do my buds
at team parties this past semester. Most of all, the way I'd spied on Dad
working PJ's big cock over once or twice. And then, even though my jaw was
starting to ache, I opened my mouth as wide as I could, pushed the wet,
leaking heads of their dad cocks together, and crammed both of them into my
mouth at the same time. I couldn't really do any more than that - they were
too big, and I was too inexperienced yet - but their deep, lusty moans told
me how hard it was hitting them, seeing their son try to take both of their
big cocks on at the same time.

My dads let me work them over a little longer, and then pulled me slowly to
my feet, surrounding me with their bodies as they kissed me, probing my
mouth, searching my hard-muscled body with their warm, experienced hands,
guiding me slowly down onto their bed. Their paternal bed. The focal point
of many of my fantasies over the years. It all seemed so unreal, like the
ultimate dream, but the feeling of their mouths, tongues, fingers and hands
exploring my body was very much real.

"We have two weeks together, son," PJ said as they slid up beside me, Dad
suckling on one of my stiff nips, making me moan and squirm as PJ toyed
expertly with the other, then ran his hand down the muscles of my stomach
to slowly fist my cock. "We don't have to do everything tonight. We can
take our time."

"We should take our time," Dad said, as he and PJ switched off, PJ nursing
deeply on my pec as Dad played with the other one, rubbing his spit into my
warm skin. "Don't know how much you've done, buddy..."

"Not much," I moaned. "Haven't been fucked. But I want to. Want you guys to
break me in. Take my cherries. Like Dads should do for their sons."

PJ growled at that, came up to kiss me hard, then Dad.

"Trust me, we very much want that, son," he growled. "And we will. It's
only right. So tonight... let me and your Dad show you how we'll do you,
son. Just kick back and watch."

"You know... like you used to when you'd spy on us, bud," Dad said with a
mischievous grin and a wink. I blushed hard, because I sure as hell had,
and even naked with my fathers now, their hands playing with my hard cock
as their own raging erections thrust against the muscles of my thighs, I
was still embarrassed to finally get busted on it.

"Don't worry, bud," PJ said. "It was hot, knowing you were that into
us. Made us cum, knowing you were there, observing."

"And didn't make us feel so bad for stroking out our own loads, listening
to you jack off afterwards, kiddo," Dad chuckled.

Jesus christ, so much I'd never known, even while I was imagining all of
it. But it was incredible to watch PJ lube Dad's hairy ex-jock hole up,
first with his tongue, then lube-slicked fingers, watching their intense
sensual bond up close and personal.

"Fuck me, Dad," Dad moaned up to his husband, and the fire in PJ's eyes was
memorable. Even after twenty-some years together, they still had an intense
sexual connection.

"Yes, son," PJ said. "First you... then our boy. Show him how we do it. How
family does it."

"Oh fuck, Dad," Dad moaned, head dropping back onto the covers as PJ slid
the bare length of his big cock up inside him. I watched them, trying not
to make myself cum at the incredible display, their hard-honed mature
bodies glazed with sweat beneath their fur, big, hard muscles flexing,
bulging, shifting as PJ thrust his length up inside of Dad. My fathers,
mating. For me, this time. For real. Talking incestuously dirty not just
for each other, but for me too now. For real.

I couldn't help but shift closer, stroking and exploring their bodies as
they put on a masterclass in mansex for me, for their son. I touched,
tasted, kissed, added my own encouraging, lusty young voice to
theirs. Egged them on with my fantasies, the things I'd watched them do,
and imagined them doing. Making them growl and rut and fuck harder, deeper.

"Wait til you feel our Dad inside of you, Scotty," Dad moaned. "I can't
wait to help him take your cherry, son."

"Aw Dad," I panted between tongue-dipping kisses. "I can't wait to feel
your big cock in me too. Breeding me. Shooting the cum you made me with."

"Oh fuck, you're our boy alright," PJ growled, doubletiming Dad's ass.

"Every bit, Daddy," I panted, reaching up to kiss him. "Every damn bit,
sir."

"FUCK!" he hollered, and from the way he thrust up hard inside Dad's ass,
his big mature muscles flexing up hard all over, I knew he was breeding
him.

"Aww yeah, knock me up, Dad!" Dad yelled, and when I reached over and took
his throbbing paternal hardon in my paw and stroked it, it only took two or
three precum-slicked pumps to get him firing off, shooting thick wads of
father cum into the dirty blond fur all over his hard-muscled torso,
streaks of cum mixing in with the streaks of grey in his manfur.

They were both doused in sweat, chests heaving as they watched me lick the
hot, salty cum from my fist. The cum that had made me. Hearing my happy
growl, seeing my fist working on my own cock, they moved with surprising
quickness. PJ's cock was rubbery and slick and still dripping as it broke
free from Dad's ass. The two of them scrambled up to me, pushing me onto my
back on the big bed, sliding stickily up along ether side of me, caressing
and nuzzling and kissing me as I stroked my hard young son cock.

"Cum for your Dads, son," PJ urged, his eyes locked on mine.

"Show us that Benson load, buddy," Dad panted, tweaking my nips. "Shoot
your seed for your fathers."

"Fuck yeah, shoot for your Dads, buddy," PJ continued. "Show us you're one
of us."

"Ready to be with us all the way, son," Dad grinned, snaking his tongue
into my mouth as PJ moved to join him in kissing me.

That did me in. I moaned and growled and lifted my ass up off the mattress,
young muscles flexing hard as my balls churned and worked and started to
unload, my cock firing off round after round of thick, sticky son cum, all
over my body and my fathers' working hands. I kept shooting, close to a
dozen shots, unable to process the insane hotness of seeing my fathers coat
their hands with my cum and feed each other with it, and then lean in to
swap more of it in an intense paternal cumkiss.

"Glad you decided to come home now, son?" Dad said.

"Jesus," was all I could muster, grinning sweatily at them. Still
processing all this, but liking it a lot.

"Well, he is the reason for the season, fellas," PJ said, and at that, we
all bust out laughing.

"No, you guys are. Family is," I said after a minute. "Our family."

"Damn right, bud," Dad said, PJ's big arms snaking around us both. Me and
Dad squirmed around on either side of him and hugged him tightly, the three
of us becoming one. It was a real moment, and I don't think I'd ever been
happier. All the warm satisfaction and love I remembered from being a kid,
all mixed up with this new level of intensity.

"So... I know we've got a couple weeks and all," I finally said. "But when
can we get started on you guys fucking me... and vice versa?"

"Fuck, you are most definitely our son," PJ laughed.

"Damn right I am, Dads," I said, leaning in to kiss each of them. "And
proud of it."