Date: Tue, 2 Jan 2018 10:54:43 -0500
From: a4f tales <a4ftales@gmail.com>
Subject: "12 Tales of Christmas II: Making Himself At Home"

Here's a story taken from my Tumblr, at
talesfromunderthemattress.tumblr.com. You can find this one, and the pic
that inspired it, here:
talesfromunderthemattress.tumblr.com/post/163621193371/

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 2017. 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.

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*****

I guess if I'd closed my bedroom door, I might never have known what was
going on, and maybe none of this would have happened. But fuck it - this
was my first place of my very own since my post-college days, and just like
then, I liked sleeping with my bedroom door open. Now that I was divorced
and in a space entirely my own, even more so. There was a weird kind of
freedom in it, being able to sprawl out in my big new bed, to walk back and
forth from the bathroom or the kitchen naked, and I was all about my
freedom these days.

Still, this was the first time Eric was staying over, home from college for
the Christmas break. He'd spent Thanksgiving at his mother's new place
across town, and I was half-nervous, half-excited to host him in my new
digs. With the old family place in the suburbs gone now, I was making a
point of letting him know there was space for him here - he might never
think of it as `home', exactly, but I wanted him to feel at home in my new
place, a space he could call his own that wasn't his dorm room on campus.

Eric had adapted pretty easily, and from the moment he'd dropped his bags
in his new room a couple of days ago, the whole place immediately began to
feel more like home for me. I liked having his energy around, and seeing
how he was growing up into the fine young man he'd always promised to
be. Divorces can be tough on kids, especially only kids, but he'd been a
real trooper through the whole process. I'd missed him, for sure - it was
great being single again, having the opportunity to redraw my life and do
things my own way, for sure, but I could admit that it could be a little
lonely at times too while I found my footing again.

I was glad to see him maintaining his old friendships, too. College has a
way of diminishing your old ties, but Eric and Casey were still thick as
thieves, like they'd been since middle school. When he'd asked if he could
have Casey over, I'd agreed immediately.

"Of course, buddy," I'd said. "This is your place too. Make yourselves at
home."

I hadn't seen Casey in a little while, and just like Eric, he'd grown up a
lot too. It was funny to see the two of them as the fine, handsome young
men they'd become, no longer gangly preteens with squeaky voices, but
college sophomores, basically adults, broader-shouldered and
deeper-voiced. Still, they were as tight as ever, and any wistfulness I
might have been feeling for the old days was pushed aside by genuine warmth
and goodwill towards the two of them. The kids were alright, no matter what
else happened, and that was all that mattered, at the end of the day.

When Eric asked if Casey could stay over, instead of slogging back across
town through the overnight snow to his parents' place back in our old
suburb, I agreed right away. Another weird little throwback to the old days
in the suburbs, when the two of them seemed to spend just about every
weekend at each other's house, right up until they headed off to college. I
showed them how the new fold-out couch in the study worked and where the
sheets were, then left them to their own devices down in the living room,
while I headed upstairs to my room to read.

I guess I'd dozed off, waking up propped up against the headboard of my
bed, my book laid flat in my lap. I looked over at the clock - just past
midnight. The house was quiet. Or at least seemed that way, as my ears
adjusted to the sounds of the house, and then started to pick up some
quiet, unfamiliar noises. Low murmurs. Soft chuckles. The sounds of my son
and his best buddy, in Eric's room across the hall. And a soft,
intermittent smacking sound that took me a second to identify.

Wait a minute, I thought. That's kissing.

So my brain was maybe a little behind the pace from my nap, and I was
wondering how on earth they'd gotten a girl over here, and more to the
point, why I could hear both of them murmuring if there was a girl
involved. Then I guess the mental fog lifted.

There's no girl - it's just them. Just Eric and Casey. Kissing. Each other.

The realization woke me all the way up, but I felt frozen in place. Susie
and me had always been reasonably liberal as parents, realistic about what
our son would get up to, even more so once he hit puberty. But we'd always
kind of avoided the idea that Eric might have sex in our home, as dumb as
that notion was. More than that, I'd never really considered that him and
his best buddy might be messing around - sure, maybe jerking off together
and stuff, but that wasn't all that uncommon. I had a little bit of history
with that myself, back when I was a young guy.

Now I didn't know if I should move, make some noise to let them know I was
awake and close by, give them a chance to tone it down or stop
altogether. I felt a mix of embarrassment and little consternation, as the
minutes went on and the sounds of their lips smacking, their happy little
murmurs and chuckles carried across the hall. I felt a little bit like I
was trapped, all of a sudden - trapped in my own home, behind my
half-closed door.

The longer you let it go on, the worse it gets, I thought. I wasn't an
indecisive person by nature, but the notion of confronting my son's sex
life - my grown, nearly-adult son's sex life - wasn't helping me get off my
ass. I had to do something, even if it was just getting up and fully
closing my bedroom door.

I quietly got up off my bed and padded across the carpet to do just that,
but what I saw stopped me in my tracks, my hand on the edge of my door. I
could see right across the hallway, to Eric's bedroom door, which I
expected to be closed. But it wasn't. It was part-closed, like the two of
them had gone in and pushed it closed behind them, but hadn't stopped to
make sure of it. Guess they were busy, and they sure looked it. I had a
near-perfect view of the bed in there, the light turned low, but still
bright enough to see.

Bright enough to see Eric and Casey, my boy and his best bud, hands all
over each other as they made out, slow and deep, standing by the
bed. They'd lost their sweaters, down to their jeans and T-shirts and
socks, and I have to admit, they both looked fine. Eric had always been a
good-looking kid, and Casey had really come into his own in that department
in the last years of his teens, too. I could see the bigger muscles of
their arms and shoulders under their T-shirts, the trimness of their
waists. I felt myself blush, and I was about to try and quietly push my
door closed, but then they separated, and I found myself watching. Seeing
what would happen next.

"Missed you, buddy," I could just make out Eric saying, Casey beaming at
him.

"Missed you too, fucker," Casey replied, his hands reaching down to fumble
with my son's belt. "And especially this."

There was no mistaking the sounds of a belt being unbuckled, a fly being
unzipped. Suddenly they seemed as loud as hell, in the quiet stillness of
the house. Suddenly I found my breath shortening, my pulse picking up, and
I wondered if they could hear me too.

But I guess not, because Casey's hands didn't stop working, as the two of
them fell back into a deep, tongue-heavy kiss, and Eric's jeans started to
slip down. He had on a pair of boxer briefs, and all of a sudden I noticed
how much thicker his thighs were, how hard and rounded and tight his ass
was. I'd always known he'd be a good-looking guy, with a good build on him
that I was proud to say he'd inherited from me. But I hadn't really seen
him stripped down since he was a teenager, and definitely not in this kind
of context. I couldn't help but admire his form, his shape, the payoff from
all the years of playing baseball and soccer in school, and undoubtedly
from the gym on campus now. Young guys these days were all about their
bodies, in ways we hadn't really been back when I was his age. In Eric's
case, he had plenty to be proud of, and in a weird way, that made me proud
too.

"Mmmm, yeah," he murmured, deep and soft, his voice all man now, a tone I'd
never heard before from him. He smiled down at his best bud as Casey
dropped to his knees and tugged at the front of his boxer briefs, and even
though the way their bodies were oriented hid the full sight from me, the
way my son sighed, dropped his head back a little and reached for Casey's
dark hair told me exactly what was going on. As if to prove it, I started
to hear wetter sounds, quietly muffled murmurs - the sounds of sucking
cock.

I guess Casey was good at sucking dick, from the way my son moaned and
stroked his hair, to the muffled murmurs coming from his best friend. That
realization - the goofy, happy-go-lucky kid who'd been like my son's shadow
for years liked to suck cock, and liked to suck my son's cock in particular
- hit me in the guts. In a way, it was alike a double-punch - the full
realization that not only was Casey a grown-up guy now, a sexual creature,
but more than that, my son was too. A guy accustomed to getting his cock
sucked, and by another guy, no less - holy shit. It was a lot to process,
but even as my brain was on fire trying to do just that, I could feel the
unmistakable stirrings of my cock in my sleep pants.

What the fuck, Mike! I thought to myself. Shit, maybe I was just horny -
just because I was single, didn't necessarily mean I was getting laid all
that much. That part of being newly divorced was still a work in
progress. Hell, the last time I'd gotten my cock sucked had been, shit -
almost a year ago, maybe? That didn't make any of this right, though - but
it didn't make me move, either. Didn't make me close the door. Didn't make
me stop watching.

"Shit, easy there, bro," Eric muttered, reaching down to take Casey's face
in his hands, guiding him up off his cock with a slurp and a grunt from
them both. "Been too long. I wanna do some more with ya."

Jesus, those words, and coming from my son... it was one of the sexiest
things I'd ever heard. Coupled with one of the sexiest things I'd ever
seen, as Eric tugged his T-shirt up and off, and pulled his best friend up
to kiss him some more. It wasn't some outrageous porn move or anything,
just a graceful, easy maneuver from a well-built young guy, but powerfully
sensual all the same. Even more so as Eric pushed his buddy's jeans down,
revealing Casey's well-muscled soccer player's thighs, trimmed with dark
fur that was weirdly surprising to see. Almost as surprising as the big
stretch of hard cock in his own boxer briefs, my son's boyhood buddy
definitely all man now in all kinds of visible ways. I watched Eric reach
down to palm his buddy's big young bulge as they kissed, making Casey grunt
into his mouth and push up against him more as he stepped out of his jeans,
and my cock ached for that kind of contact more than ever before.

Eric helped peel Casey's T-shirt off, and the spray of dark fur across the
kid's well-muscled chest just added another layer of surprise. The last
time I'd seen him shirtless had been at the lake three summers ago, and
there hadn't been a trace of chest hair on him - not that I was looking,
necessarily. But I sure was looking now, watching my son lean down and
press his lips to those solid, flat squares of chest muscle, kissing his
way over the fur and skin to each of Casey's dark nipples. Shit, if Casey's
eyes hadn't been closed with pleasure, if he'd opened them and looked over
the top of my son's head, he'd probably see me, standing beside my
half-closed bedroom door, my cock tenting my sleep pants. This was fucking
dangerous, and I felt a little sizzle of a thrill run through me, twinned
with my nerves. But my son and his buddy were completely in their own
world, a place where just the two of them existed. Everything and everyone
else didn't seem to matter to them, right now.

"Big fuckin' cock, bro," Eric murmured when he came back up, grinning at
his friend, his hand caressing the hardness in Casey's shorts, then tugging
at the fabric. Pulling them down, revealing a thick, dark tangle of
fur. Reaching inside as Casey bit his lip and gazed at him, something a lot
like love in his eyes. His eyes closed again and his grin widened as my son
reached inside his shorts, the muscles of his forearm shifting and flexing
as he stroked along the length of his best bud's hard cock and watched his
reaction.

Your kid's a stud, I thought, and felt that weird surge of pride in him
again.

I couldn't help but admire the confident, easy way Eric maneuvered his
buddy, pushing him back on the bed with a kind of friendly assertiveness,
laying him flat out on his back and stripping his shorts off, tossing them
on the floor. Then he crouched down, the muscles of my son's ass flexing
inside his underwear, and even though his head and shoulders blocked the
view, I could tell he was reaching for his buddy's cock, reaching to take
hold of it, and lick it, and then Casey's deep moan and the way his hand
sank into my son's hair told me that my boy was sucking cock too. Holy
fucking shit.

Just like when Casey sucked him, my view of the action was obscured, and
somehow, that made the slow-building sucking wet sounds even lewder. But it
meant Casey couldn't see me either - couldn't see his best bud's father
watching them at play, see my hand squeezing my own hard bulge, as I
watched and admired their closeness, and wrestled with the notion that my
pride and joy was sucking cock, and enjoying it, and good at it.

What the fuck are you doing, Mike, I thought to myself, then immediately
dismissed it as Casey's husky grunts and moans built a little, as his
athletic thighs flexed and writhed on the bedspread. But I shuffled back,
hiding more of my body behind the door as I continued to watch, which made
the whole thing even more perverse, and wrong. And hot, hot as fuck. I
couldn't deny that, and if I tried, my own hard cock was there to make a
liar out of me.

Eric rose up from between Casey's thighs, and I couldn't help but notice
the muscles articulating in his back, the breadth of his shoulders and
lats, the shift of his ass in the tight stretchy material of his boxer
briefs. He crawled up over his prone buddy's body, and the sounds of deep,
wet, grunting kisses echoed clear across the hall again.

"Can I taste you, bro?" I could just make out him murmuring, along with
Casey's husky, whispered, "Yeah..." And then my son was sinking down
between his buddy's legs, pushing them up, the size of them almost seeming
to double as Eric pushed them back, and I had to stifle a groan of surprise
as Eric leaned into Casey's ass and kissed him there. A groan of surprise,
and yeah, lust beneath that, as my boy set to work eating his buddy's hole.

I reached down to squeeze my throbbing cock again, leaving it there, slowly
handling myself as I watched. Again, I couldn't see the detail, the back of
my son's head obscuring the sight of what he was doing, but the wet, lusty
sounds, the growls and Casey's moans as he writhed on the bed, told me
exactly what was going on. Christ, I hadn't had my ass eaten in literally
decades, not since a particularly liberated girl had treated me to a damn
unforgettable ride my junior year of college, after one of the frat
parties.

Well, there was that one pledge who blew you and Stevie Cutrone... I
thought, and immediately pushed that whole thing out of my mind, and tried
to focus on what was unfolding before my eyes.

"I been thinking about this ever since summer," Eric said, his voice thick
with spit, as he rose up again from between Casey's thighs, patting his
hip. "C'mon, roll over. Let me really get in there, dude."

Casey rolled over, Eric's hand guiding him, and damn, the kid had an ass on
him. They both did, but Casey wasn't my son, and his was the naked one, so
I could see the shape and curve and shift of his glutes, the dark fur on
the creamy skin, the way they shifted and flexed as he arched his back...

You watched this kid grow up, Mike, I thought, and fuck, I didn't need to
be thinking that way. He was all grown up now, for sure, no matter what,
and maybe that took some of the edge off. Some, but not all, for sure, as I
stood there, leaking precum into my boxers, watching the lewd display of
hot, youthful sex happening before me.

I got distracted from that view as Eric stood up, and the way he stood, I
could just see the tip of his hard cock around the edge of his hip,
standing out proud, the head even gleaming a little in the low light coming
from overhead. I watched as he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of his
boxer briefs and shucked them the rest of the way down, the side of his ass
dimpling deep as he bent over slightly to push them down his long, hard
quads, past his muscular calves. His eyes stayed locked on Casey's ass,
watching his glutes shift as his best bud seemed to put on a little show
for him, clenching his handsome soccer player's rump, arching his back,
inviting him in.

Eric let out a lusty little grunt and stepped forward, tossing his boxer
briefs on the floor as he planted one knee on the side of the bed and ran
his hands up the backs of Casey's thighs, leaning in as he moved closer, as
his hands caressed up to those muscled young mounds and spread them
open. This time, I could see my son as he leaned in and started to kiss his
best buddy's hole, started to make out with it, started to eat him out like
a pro. It was all I could do not to moan out loud, even as the voice in my
head screamed at me to turn away, to stop this insanity right now, to be
the father I was supposed to be and put an end to this fucked-up perversity
altogether.

I'd encouraged my son to make himself at home, to carve out a space here
where he could be at ease and be himself, but this was taking things too
far. Or... was it? He was a healthy young man with a healthy sexual
appetite, who clearly knew what he was doing, with somebody he and I both
trusted. They were being safe. Really, where was the harm?

Yes, but you're watching him, I thought to myself. But maybe, in some weird
way, Eric wanted me to see all this. Maybe that's why he hadn't closed the
door behind them, before they fell into each other like this. When he knew
my door was open too. Maybe he wanted me to see how comfortable he was here
in my new home. Maybe he wanted me to see the man he'd become.

Whether or not he'd intended to show me, I was sure seeing it now, as he
buried his handsome face between Casey's handsome cheeks and ate him
out. My mind flashed back to that pledge twenty-some years ago, and Stevie
Cutrone's long baseball player's legs upturned on his bed across from mine
as the pledge ate him out while I lazily fisted my sticky cock and watched
them from my bed. That kid was good, but I was willing to wager my boy was
better - Christ, what a fucked-up thing to think, but still. The way Casey
had the covers bunched up in his fists, the muscles in his arms bulging as
he grunted, then moaned, growing progressively louder over the lewd noises
of my son devouring his hole, told me just how good at this my son was. I
wondered how long they'd been doing it. Wondered how many times they'd been
doing this, and more, upstairs in Eric's room while my wife and I were
oblivious. How many times they'd made each other cum under my roof, before
tonight.

Eric ran his hand up Casey's spine to rub the back of his head almost
tenderly as he continued to devour his hole, Casey's ass flexing as he
bucked it back against my boy's buried face, and Eric growled in response
to Casey's husky, deep-chested moan of pure pleasure. They went on like
this for several long minutes, as I watched and squeezed my throbbing cock
the whole time, spurting more and more precum into my boxers, watching my
son's body at work, pleasuring his best buddy with skill and the easy
familiarity of long experience.

I guess Eric hit a particular spot inside Casey especially well, because
Casey's muscles flexed all over, bucking his athletic young ass back even
harder, arching his back as he moaned out, "Ahhhh brooooo..." Eric came up
out of his ass trench, chuckling as he draped his body over his buddy's,
nuzzling into his ear.

"Shhhhhh, bro," he murmured. "Dad's right across the hall, don't forget."

My heart pounded doubletime at that, and I nearly slipped fully behind my
door, but then Eric moved again, planting his hands either side of Casey's
shoulders and pushing up athletically onto his knees. I watched him reach
to the end of the bed, obscured by the angle and his part-closed door,
hearing the sound of a zipper. His backpack, I guessed, hearing him root
around in it for a moment, and then his hand came back into view. He
dropped a little bottle and a foil package onto the covers beside Casey's
hip. Lube and a rubber. Jesus fuckin' Christ.

He leaned back in, planted a kiss between Casey's shoulder blades, then
more of them up to the back of his neck. My son, the lover, and I got that
weird, perverse feeling of pride again. He kissed his way up to Casey's ear
and began murmuring to him, nothing but the low, warm, buzzing sound of it
carrying across the hallway to me. I was intensely curious about what he
was saying to his best buddy in this moment, as he reached down for the
lube and flipped the cap off it with practiced ease, bringing the bottle
down to squirt a clear stream of it into Casey's furry young cleft. Casey's
body never stopped moving, but the writhing as Eric reached down to work
the lube in. From Casey's moans and the arch of his back, I knew my son was
pushing slick fingers inside of him, lubing up his hole. Maybe the most
intimate thing one man can do to another, and again I flashed back to that
pledge on that fall night when I was barely older than Eric. The way he
grunted and moaned as Stevie worked his lubed fingers inside his hole,
while I watched and stroked and tried not to cum, as I waited my turn.

Eric spent a good couple minutes just working his buddy's hole over,
murmuring to him in that low, warm tone, his words dissolving into
indistinct sound as it carried from his bedroom, through his open door,
across the hallway, and into mine. Then he pressed another slow kiss to the
back of his neck and pushed up again. This time when he stood, he was
turned in almost complete profile to me, and for the first time, I really
saw my son. Saw his tight-muscled young man's frame, the profile shape of
his pecs, the muscles of his hips and thighs and ass, and most of all, the
hard, wet-tipped curve of his cock.

Christ, he got it all from you, I thought, stunned and proud in equal
measure, admiring the big, handsome heft of my son's erect cock. It was a
damn fine-looking dick, even I could admit that - hell, he might have even
been packing a little more than I was, and I definitely have nothing to be
ashamed of there. I watched him reach for the rubber on the bed, tearing
the package open with his teeth, extracting it, and then slowly rolling it
down the long, hard arc of his big young dick, and no matter how weird and
conflicted I felt about everything else right now, I couldn't help but
admire what a stud my boy was. He wasn't one of those big, musclebound,
body-obsessed guys like a lot of young dudes seemed to be these days - just
a handsome, fit, boy-next-door type, who happened to be packing a damn fine
cock, and evidently had the skills to treat his lovers right with it.

I was all caught up in another weird moment of deep paternal pride and
admiration - OK, I was staring at his cock as he smoothly skinned the
rubber down its length, with practiced ease - so I nearly missed it. He got
himself sheathed, then ran his hand over his length, giving a small smile
of satisfaction as he looked down at it. Then he happened to look to his
right, through his door, across the hall, to my door. And saw me, his
father, staring at him.

My eyes flicked up just as he saw me, and our gazes met. Fuck. The moment
felt eternal. I know that whole thing about time standing still is a
cliché, but right then, my naked son standing there hard-cocked, freshly
rubbered-up, his best buddy sprawled out naked on his bed, and me not more
than six or eight feet away, watching him, my cock big and hard and obvious
in my flannel sleep pants - it felt like there was no time anymore. Just me
and Eric, a father and his son, standing there on some kind of precipice.

My mouth was suddenly dry, my pulse jackhammering away, a cold sweat
prickling between my shoulder blades. I could feel the burn of the blush on
my face, spreading down my neck, down to the top of my chest. Christ knows
how I looked to him, right then. We'd always had a respectful, but close
bond, me and Eric, a pretty traditional father-son hierarchical kind of
thing. But now, I felt all my fatherly authority draining away, fast. I'd
violated... shit, just about every rule there was, really.

But if he wanted to protect his privacy... he would have closed his door, I
couldn't help but think. No matter what else, there was that. Maybe... just
maybe... he wanted me to see him like this.

His gaze was almost inscrutable. Not hostile, at least, but still,
unreadable, and it made my guts and my brain churn even more, while I tried
to figure out if I should say something, do something, maybe just close my
fucking bedroom door...

Late for that, Mike, I thought. Way too late. You bought this ticket
already.

And then, slowly, Eric smiled. Just a little turn-up at the corner of his
mouth, but he stood up a little straighter, hand still cradling the heft of
his big, hard young cock, and his smile spread. A quiet smile, the one he
tended to get when he'd accomplished something, and was pleased with
himself, but didn't want to make a big show of it. It's the kind of kid
he'd always been. I couldn't smile back, but a little of the knot in my
guts eased, as he stood up, his shoulders straight, chest out a little,
justifiably proud of himself and how he looked, proud of how I was seeing
him. He gave me a little nod, so slight that anybody else would have missed
it, and I flashed back to a moment when he was 15, standing at the plate of
his high school baseball field, having just absolutely socked the ball out
of the park. He'd turned and found me in the stands, standing up and
applauding him, and given me that exact same kind of nod. Small, subtle,
not at all show-offy. Just an acknowledgement, from father to son, that
he'd done something awesome, and we both knew it.

I don't know why, but that little nod know nearly undid me altogether. Even
more so when he looked back down to his sheathed cock, then picked up the
lube bottle and loosed a stream of the stuff all over his piece. He stroked
his hand along his length, smearing the lube all over himself, making his
big young cock gleam even more, and looked over at me
again. Smiled. Nodded.

This time, I found myself nodding back at him, one small down-up tilt of
the head, a father proud of his son. Approving. Encouraging, even. And then
I watched him turn back to his best friend, and go to work.

Eric didn't rush things - he hadn't rushed any of it up to this point
anyway, but now that he knew I was watching, he seemed even more intent on
demonstrating his prowess. Hell, I barely had the hang of it when I was 19,
but I was getting pretty good at fucking by that age. But Eric was there
already, climbing up onto his bed, helping Casey adjust his hips, pressing
a kiss to his buddy's shoulders as he took his slicked-up cock in his hand,
and aimed for his target. I couldn't help but notice how he shifted Casey's
hips around, turning his body more so I could see my son's work. Or maybe I
was imagining that. I had no fucking idea - all I knew was that I was even
harder than ever, erect and awestruck and now more eager than ever to see
the lover my son had become.

Casey's head tilted back and his body squirmed slowly, letting out a low,
soft moan as my son sank into him, slowly but steadily, sure of himself in
his quiet, almost professional way.

"Yeah buddy," Eric murmured quietly, almost softly to his buddy. "So
fucking good, bro."

My son slowly sank his cock inside of his best friend, taking his time with
it, giving little loosening thrusts back and forth along the way, his
handsome young ass dimpling as it flexed and thrust. Casey let out a stream
of quiet grunts and moans and murmurs, pushing his ass back up to meet
Eric's hips, until my son was fully embedded inside of him. Then Eric
draped himself over Casey's back and kissed the side of his neck.

"You got all of me, buddy," he almost crooned to him, kissing the side of
his neck. "Let's go, yeah?"

Casey whimpered a soft uh-huh back to him, and I watched my son as smiled
at his best friend, and began to fuck him.

I had no idea how long they'd been doing this, or how often, but either
way, they were both good at it. Perfectly in tune with each other, two fit
young men who enjoyed the act, and enjoyed it together. They were smooth,
working in sync, with the kind of ease you only really get with experience
together. Casey was no passive participant, arching his back, fucking
himself back on Eric's big cock as they warmed up and got deeper into it
together, Eric's ass and thighs and hips a smooth flow of muscle, in
command of his body and his cock and his buddy's pleasure. It could have
been a performance for my benefit - at least on Eric's part, Casey still
hadn't seen me - but it seemed natural, familiar, attuned. Lately, I'd kind
of gotten into those porn sites that did both gay and straight sex, hot
young college-aged dudes fucking girls who were clearly strippers or
hookers. Some of those hot-bodied young guys could throw one hell of a
fuck, but right here, in my own home, I was being treated to a show that
blew any of them out of the water. All courtesy of my one and only son.

Eric fucked fast, then slow and deep, switching it up, corkscrewing his
hips, really giving Casey a serious ride, full of complexity and shifting
pace and angles. It was worthy of porn - hell, almost too good for porn,
but I probably would have paid a monthly fee to watch it over and over
again. At some point, my hand found its way inside my flannel pants,
caressing the hardness of my cock, straining at the cotton of my boxer
shorts. I undid the fly of my shorts to let my guy out, stifling a grunt as
I felt the hot, precum-slicked throb of my Dad cock as I admired my son's
performance.

Right as I was wrist deep in my pants, my bush half on display, starting to
stroke the full length of my cock, unable to stop myself, Eric looked over
his shoulder at me. His forehead was glowing with a mist of sweat, his
cheeks flushed with color, and Jesus Christ, he'd never been handsomer. He
looked down at the big, obvious shape of my hand in my pants, stroking
myself, smiled that little smile at me again, and quietly nodded his
head. I nodded back again, and he grinned a little wider and set to work
fucking the living daylights out of Casey. Now I couldn't stop myself from
hauling my cock completely out of my pants and stroking myself in earnest.

"Fuck, so good, buddy," Eric growled, sounding all man as he grunted and
continued his fast, deep pace, sawing his handsome length in and out of
Casey's tight hole.

"Dude, fuck, yeah," Casey whimpered back. "Fuck me, bro."

Eric growled, sank full-length into Casey, then held it there as he draped
himself back over his friend, tilting his head back to kiss him. I listened
to them moan and the sound of their lips smacking, and then Eric reared
back up, took firm hold of Casey's trim hips, and got right back to fucking
him like a pro.

I don't know how long they went on, we were in a space that felt completely
outside of time at that point, but I could feel my load building up in my
balls, and I knew at their age, as enthusiastically as they were going at
it together, there was no way they could keep it up forever. Sure enough,
as the sound of Eric's hips slapping against Casey's ass began to really
echo around his room, across the hall, enveloping me in the flesh-on-flesh
sound of pure fucking, Eric spoke up.

"Gettin' close, bro," he grunted, his voice thick with lust and the cum he
was ready to unleash. "You ready to cum with me, Case?"

"Fuck, yeah dude," Casey moaned back at him. "Gonna make me fuckin' cum..."

Eric let go of his right hip and reached around and under him, letting out
a hot little growl of approval as he stroked his buddy's cock, his bis and
tris flexing.

"Fuck yeah, you're ready," he said, sounding pleased. He looked back over
his shoulder at me, his eyes boring into mine, something hot and invisible
and electric in the air between us. Kept his eyes on mine as his hips
thrust and thrust, his whole body aglow with sweat, his muscles pumped and
primed under the sheen of it.

"Here I come, dude," he growled, eyes steady and lusty on mine. "I'm gonna
fucking cum!"

Eric's nostrils flared, his muscles flexed all over, and he gave one last
hard, deep thrust of his hips as he planted his full length inside of his
best friend. I could see his balls dancing between his thighs, big and full
and tight with hot young cum, bouncing as he grunted all deep and guttural
and animal, and unloaded inside Casey. Then almost in sync, Casey let out
an animal series of grunts of his own, and I swore I could hear the jets of
his cum splattering across the covers beneath him, as my son both jacked
and fucked the load out of him.

Holy shit, I had to pinch the head of my cock to keep from spraying my own
load across the hallway floor. Eric never broke eye contact with me as his
chest heaved and his balls churned. He just gave me another little nod,
watching me struggle mightily not to let my cum fire off.

My son was still every bit the accomplished lover in their afterglow,
draping himself over Casey's sweaty back to kiss his neck, rubbing his
flanks, murmuring low, indistinct words to him, his buddy murmuring right
back. Slowly, Eric extracted his cocklength, still hard, shiny with lube,
the tip of the rubber sagging heavy with his fresh young load, leaving
Casey's hole to gape before slowly squeezing closed. He climbed up onto the
bed at Casey's side, his buddy turning to him to kiss him. Even in the wild
haze I was in, having seen what he'd seen, I knew Casey had a good chance
of seeing me if he rolled too far onto his side, so I ducked back behind my
door as quickly and quietly as I could, listening to the sounds of their
kisses and murmurs from the other side.

After a few minutes, I heard them shuffling around, chuckling low,
murmuring some more, then the sound of their bodies shifting on the bed,
feet hitting the floor. As quietly as I could, I sat down on the side of my
bed, suddenly feeling a little bit in shock at everything that had
transpired. Shocked, and with my hard cock still arced up towards my
stomach, poking me there insistently. I could tell the two boys were trying
to be quiet as their feet padded softly out into the hall, heading for the
bathroom.

"Dude, fuck," I heard Casey whisper, just on the other side of my
half-closed door. "What if your Dad..."

"Don't worry, bro," Eric whispered back. "He was zonked when we came up, I
checked. We're cool. Bathroom's down there on the right, I'll see you there
in a minute."

One set of footsteps padded quietly down the hall to the main bathroom, and
I heard the door click closed, the water starting to run. After a long
pause, my bedroom door edged quietly open, and Eric's head appeared around
the side of it. I had no idea what to say, but I guess my still-hard cock
said all there was to be said, in the moment.

Eric looked over his shoulder, down the hall, and stepped fully into my
bedroom. Christ, he looked magnificent, his big cock just starting to
soften, the glow of a fresh fuck all over him, his muscles still pumped
from it. But it was the way he smiled at me that made all the
difference. The smile I remembered from his home runs, from his walk across
the stage at graduation, from passing his driving test - a smile of
achievement, and pride in himself. And in some ways, a smile of thanks to
me, too, for helping him reach all those milestones.

"How was I, Dad?" he asked, voice low.

"Christ, son," I muttered, unable to think of anything else.

"I didn't mean to, uh... impose on you like that," he said, eyes still on
mine, still stepping in close. Almost stepping between my spread knees, as
he worked the spent and filled rubber slowly down the shiny, sticky length
of his cock. "We just, y'know, got in the zone, and kinda went with it, I
guess..."

He was looking at me almost expectantly now, and weirdly, I felt all the
weight and responsibility of being a father right then. The knowledge that
every word matters, sometimes. I swallowed hard, and looked up at him as
levelly as I could.

"I told you, son," I said quietly. "This is your home too. I want you to be
comfortable here."

Eric's smile twitched a little wider at that, at the man-to-man kind of
confidence between us right then, unlike any we'd had before.

"And for the record," I went on, "that was one hell of a fuck, son."

"Yeah, Dad?" he said, his voice low and deep and with a lusty kind of edge
to it.

"Yeah, son," I finished. "You did me proud, buddy."

He just grinned at that, looked down at my still-hard cock, and
nodded. Slowly peeled the rubber the rest of the way off, with the
reflexive ease of a guy who'd done it a lot in his young life
already. Stood there for a second, the full rubber in his hand, like he was
thinking.

"Maybe some time, you can show me how you do it too, Dad," he murmured to
me, eyes intent on mine, then handed me the condom. Reflexively, I took it,
not even knowing I was doing it until the slick, warm rubber was between my
fingers, hanging heavy with my son's big load. Right in that moment, that
electric moment between me and my son, I knew I wanted to do exactly that,
and soon.

"Maybe I can, son," I heard myself saying. "Maybe I can."

"Good," he nodded. Down the hall, we heard the sound of the toilet
flushing.

"I gotta go see how Case is doing," he said, the spell somewhat broken for
now. He nodded down at my cock, which was just starting to soften a little
before he handed me his rubber. Now it was back to full hardness again.

"I wish I could stay to see you cum, Dad," he said. "Maybe tomorrow, after
Case has gone..."

I swallowed hard, and instinctively reached for my hardness, as he nodded
at me. I gave him another little nod back, man to man, father to son. That
was all that needed to be said.

"Then I'll see you tomorrow, Dad," he murmured. He stepped back out into
the hall, quietly tugging my door back almost closed again, and padded down
the hall to the bathroom.

It killed me to wait, my hand maintenance-stroking my cock, strumming on it
as quietly as I could, until the boys headed back to Eric's bed, the door
clicking closed behind them. I looked at the tied-off rubber cradled in my
left hand, full of my son's cum, sticky with the lube he'd used to fuck his
best buddy's ass in front of me. Heard his last words in my head as my hand
found the hardness of my cock and wrapped firmly around it, starting to
stroke.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Dad..."

In less than a minute, as I stifled my grunts, my load was pasting my
T-shirt, as I started to imagine all the possibilities that lay ahead for
my son and me over the next few weeks he was home.