Date: Sun, 8 May 2011 22:31:58 -0700 (PDT)
From: Bruno Boyd <bruno.boyd@yahoo.com>
Subject: What Brandon Needs- Part 3

What Brandon Needs

Part Three


Brandon woke up late on Saturday morning with a boner. Even though he'd
spent half the night humping the sheets, he'd slept well. In fact, it was
the best he'd slept in a very long time. He rolled on his back, stretched,
and ran his fingers through his hair. He could still smell his dad.

He heard the lawn mower running in the backyard. Quickly, he threw the
sheets off and walked to his window. He'd repeated this routine many
Saturday mornings before. Carefully, he lifted one of the blinds and peeked
outside. Mike had already finished with the front yard and was halfway done
with the back. He had his shirt off and under the sun his skin was covered
in a sheen of sweat. He was wearing an old, thin pair of gray cotton shorts
and a baseball cap. They were the same kind of shorts Mike wore around the
house all the time if he needed more coverage than just his briefs-- like
when he needed to be outside-- but they did little to conceal his bulge and
even less to hide his meaty butt.

As he stared as his father, Brandon stuck his hand down his underwear.

The night before, after he'd shot his wad with his face buried in his dad's
pit, Brandon knew things would never be the same. He'd sat on the couch for
several minutes as cum dripped down his leg inside his shorts. He was in
lust with his dad's body. He prayed that Mike would call out for him from
his bedroom, and maybe things would continue in there.

But Mike didn't call out for him. Instead, he'd shut the door to his room
and Brandon heard the sound of water running. He'd wondered if the door was
unlocked. Maybe he could tiptoe in and sneak a peek at his dad in the
shower, he thought. Maybe his dad would let him in the shower with him and
he could play with his body some more.

Or, he thought, what if he went in and his dad got mad at him? Brandon was
suddenly consumed with the fear that what had happened that night was going
to be a one-time thing. Maybe Mike would regret what they'd done and think
his son was sick. He hadn't intended to, but Brandon had revealed some of
his innermost desires to his father; in fact, he'd lived them out on his
dad's body. It was bad enough that he was known as a little queer at
school-- he wasn't sure he could face the rejection in his own
home. Brandon decided to go to his room and clean up like his father told
him.

An hour later, the two ate pizza in front of the TV. It was like any other
night. Mike watched a show about motorcycles. They sat on opposite ends of
the couch and barely a word was said. The fear grew in Brandon.

That night Brandon didn't wash his face. His dad's dried sweat was on it,
and he wanted the smell to linger as long as possible.

But as he watched his dad through the window and stroked his dick, Brandon
wondered if he should give up so easily. He stared at his dad's thick,
bulging biceps and muscular legs as the older man pushed the lawn mower. He
saw those hairy, beefy pecs he'd sucked on hours earlier, now damp with
sweat and flexing as he worked.

Finally, Mike shut off the lawn mower. As he took off his cap and wiped the
sweat from his brows, he exposed his wet armpit. Brandon's eyes widened:
his father was staring right at him. Mike smiled. Brandon dropped the blind
and jumped from the window, his hand still gripping his hard dick.

After a minute in silence, Brandon smiled to himself. No, he thought, he
shouldn't give up so easily after all.

Half an hour later, Brandon sat at the kitchen table eating a bowl of
cereal. He wanted to be sitting there when his dad walked in. He'd taken a
shower, brushed his teeth, fixed his hair nicely, and put on a cute t-shirt
and shorts. He wondered if it was weird that he was trying to look cute for
his dad. Through the door, he heard the sound of clanging as Mike lifted
weights. He knew his dad liked to finish off working in the yard with a
good 15-minute workout in the garage, bench pressing more than three times
Brandon's own weight.

The door opened and Mike came in. His shirt was still off, but the baseball
cap was now on backwards.

"What's goin' on, buddy?" he said as he walked into the kitchen.

"Just breakfast," Brandon said. "Sorry I didn't help you out there. I guess
I overslept again."

Mike laughed. "Don't gimme that BS-- I know how much you hate workin' out
there. You'd do anything to stay in your bed all day. But you know what,
son? I wanted to let you sleep in anyway."

Brandon put his spoon down. He'd only been pretending to eat anyway. "Why?"
he asked.

"Well, cuz I know you had a bad day yesterday, and I wanted you to get some
rest. Did you get some?"

Mike was standing across from his son. He took the cap off and tossed it on
the table. Brandon could smell his dad from here.

"Mmmhmm, I did."

Mike headed to the cabinet to get a glass. Brandon watched the muscles in
his dad's broad shoulders and back move when he reached up for a large
plastic glass. Mike moved to the fridge and began scooping ice, his back
still to his son. Brandon's eyes darted lower to his dad's shorts. His
mouth opened when he saw the thick line of sweat down the center of the
shorts, right between his dad's beefy ass cheeks. As his father ran the
faucet, Brandon felt his dick grow inside his shorts.

Mike turned and leaned against the countertop, taking a long drink of
water. He was staring at his son. Embarrassed, Brandon looked away.

"So what do you have goin' on today?" Mike asked.

"Umm, not sure. I was thinking of going over to Amanda's today. We might go
to the mall or something," Brandon lied. He definitely planned to stay home
today.

"Good, I like that girl. Guess she's not your girlfriend, huh?" Mike
chuckled.

Brandon blushed and smiled sheepishly. "What are you doing today?" he
asked, changing the subject.

"Some good college basketball games on today. Might get together with some
of the guys and watch `em."

Mike walked past the table and headed for the living room. Brandon was
suddenly disappointed. He didn't know his dad had plans with his
friends. For a minute he sat alone at the table, thinking carefully, then
stood up and followed his dad.

In the living room, Mike had switched on the TV and was sitting on a
recliner. The ceiling fan was running full speed. Brandon heard the garble
of announcers talking about sports teams he never knew existed. He leaned
against the couch for a moment and pretended to watch TV, then looked at
his dad.

"If you want, I could stay home and watch with you," Brandon said.

Mike leaned back in his chair and laughed. "Ha! You gonna watch sports with
me? Who are you and where is my son?"

Brandon blushed again. He worried he was being too obvious.

"It's up to you. I could text Amanda and tell her..." his voice trailed
off.

Mike rattled the ice in his glass. "Yeah that sounds good, boy. If that's
what you wanna do."

As he turned back to the TV, Mike rubbed his pec. He raised his arm
slightly and scratched his armpit. Brandon couldn't take his eyes off him.

Mike turned to see his son staring. "Wantin' to spend more time with your
dad, huh?"

"Mmmhmm," Brandon said.

Mike saw the longing in Brandon's eyes. "You wanna come sit in my lap
again, boy?"

"Mmmhmm."

"C'mere, boy."

Brandon's dick was now hard and showing in his shorts as he crossed the
room to his father.

Mike put the glass down on an end table and leaned back. He adjusted his
dick through his shorts. He was sweatier than he was the night
before. Apparently his son really got off on that. He wondered if that was
a gay thing, or just a Brandon thing. As long as it wasn't too weird, he
didn't care. After all, his boy was just doing what boys do: admiring a
man.

Brandon sat down in his dad's lap and leaned against his dad's chest, which
was hot and moist. He was overcome by the scent from his dad now, and
closed his eyes to take it all in.

"This is just pregame stuff anyway," Mike said, switching off the TV.

Feeling himself drawn again to one of his dad's beefy pecs, Brandon started
to lightly kiss the area around the nipple. The sweat he tasted from his
dad's body was like a fuel for him, giving him the energy to explore more.

"Can I?" he asked.

Mike smiled and nodded at his son. Brandon began nursing on his dad's pecs
again, held safe in Mike's arms. He could hear his dad moaning softly.

"Mmm, that feels good, boy. Love when you suck on `em like that," Mike
said, stroking Brandon's hair.

With his son staring up at him, Mike lifted his left arm, exposing the wet
mound of hairs in his armpit. He saw Brandon's eyes widen at the
sight. With his right hand, Mike rubbed his fingers in his pit. Brandon's
dick jumped as he lifted his head in anticipation. Mike brought his hand to
his son's face and brushed his fingers around Brandon's nose and mouth as
the boy inhaled deeply.

"Can't get enough of that, can you boy? Love that hot daddy smell, huh?"

"Mmmm, yes, sir," Brandon whimpered. "I love it, Dad. Please, I want more."

Mike's thumb was now tracing his son's mouth. "You want more, huh? Yeah I
thought so. I saw you this morning lookin' out your window. I figured last
night wasn't enough for you. What do you want, boy?"

Brandon realized his dream was coming true again. He didn't want to mess
this up.

"I just want to see more of your body," he said. "Like, maybe take your
clothes off for you."

Mike chuckled. He barely had any clothes on right now. What the hell, he
thought. They had to come off soon anyway. He motioned for his son to get
up.

"Alright, boy," he said as he stood up.

Brandon stood in front of his father, who was almost a foot taller and
towered over him. He rubbed his hands along Mike's massive chest, massaging
the man's pecs and tweaking his nipples slightly. Mike flexed his pecs, one
at a time. Brandon worked his way down his torso, rubbing the fur on his
abs and around his belly button. He was ready to pull his shorts down.

Seeking permission, he looked into Mike's eyes.

Mike was a sucker for getting his body admired and massaged, so he had to
admit he was enjoying all this extra attention. As far he was concerned, it
didn't matter if you were gay or straight or whatever, getting felt up felt
good, and his dick was responding by getting hard. But he still wanted to
make sure his son didn't misunderstand the situation.

He reached out and stroked his son's cheek. "Brandon, you gotta understand
something. I know you're... you know..." It was still hard for him to talk
about. "But no matter what happens, you gotta remember I'm not like
you. OK?"

Brandon didn't doubt any of it for a second. If any guy was hetero it was
his dad. He was just trying to be a good father and do what he thought was
good for his only son: showing him the way and making him feel better about
himself. Brandon shook his head yes. He understood.

He slipped his hands in the waistband of Mike's shorts and began to pull
them down. As he lowered them, he brought himself to the ground and rested
on his knees. Mike stepped out of the shorts and Brandon tossed them
aside. His father now stood in front of him in only his white briefs.

Of course Brandon had seen his dad in his underwear countless times before,
but never this close. It was an old pair, somewhat ragged, with holes in
it. Nevertheless, Brandon thought he looked like a god in them. Because
they were damp, Mike's semi-erect dick was visible through the
fabric. Except for a few glances over the years when his dad walked around
with a half-open towel, Brandon had never really seen his father's
penis. He wasn't good with measurements, but Brandon thought it was easily
7 inches even semi-hard. Mike had adjusted himself so it ran to the side
and up slightly. If it got any bigger it would have to come out.

Brandon began rubbing his father's beefy thighs. He brought his face to his
dad's crotch, pushing his nose against the outline of the man's dick.

Mike was holding his son's head, lightly stroking his hair. "Yeah, boy,
that's good."

Pressing his face into his dad's crotch, Brandon began to breathe
deeply. It was a rich scent like what he had experienced the night
before. His dick was now throbbing in his shorts. He rubbed his face back
and forth against his father's underwear.

Looking up into Mike's eyes again, Brandon spoke. "Dad, can you turn
around?"

Mike could tell where this was going. He turned around for his son. Brandon
was now looking squarely at his dad's meaty ass encased in briefs. Right
down the middle of his underwear between each ass cheek was a wet trail of
sweat. Fearing he would lose this moment, Brandon shoved his face into his
dad's butt, pushing the man forward. Mike grabbed hold of the recliner and
bent slightly at the knees.

Hugging Mike's leg, Brandon was now breathing up and down the wet crack of
his dad's underwear, stopping only to take swipes of the fabric with his
tongue. The smell and taste here was sending his cock into overdrive. He
stuck his hand in his shorts and began furiously stroking his dick.

Leaning over, Mike could see between his legs that his son was beating off
in his shorts.

He egged him on. "Mmmm, boy. Your daddy's body gets your dick nice and hard
don't it? Mmmm, baby. Rub your face all over back there. Get it good."

Brandon was grunting and taking deep breaths of his dad's sweat-soaked
briefs. "Mmmm, yeah Dad... Oh, god, I wanna pull them down..."

This time, Mike put his fingers in the waistband of his underwear. Brandon
leaned back and watched what was happening. Slowly, Mike slid the briefs
over his round muscle butt, and left them bunched up under his cheeks. He
was showing off for his son.

Brandon stopped beating off. He wanted this to last.


To be continued.

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