Date: Sun, 12 Feb 2006 14:49:22 -0800 (PST)
From: Scorpiojames@yahoo.com
Subject: Smoking and Stroking

This is my first post to Nifty. I welcome comments.

I'm not sure why my Father and I ended up at the new house.  I can't
remember now.  It was the night before Thanksgiving.  My parents had just
bought a new house and we were slowly moving things from one house to the
other.  For some reason, my Mother and sisters were staying at the old
house, but my Dad and I were going to spend the night at the new house.

The idea of the two of us alone in the new house was pretty exciting to me.
My Father and I rarely got that kind of opportunity, since we were a family
of 5.  My Mother didn't work, so she was always home.  I just remember
telling myself, "Just me and Dad tonight, just me and Dad."  Why was this
so exciting?  Well, to be blunt, I was pretty infatuated with my Dad.  I
was about 14 at the time, had already hit puberty, knew about sex and knew
I liked having sex with other boys.  And my Dad... he was the ultimate goal
for me.  To say I had a crush on him was understating it.  I lusted after
the man morning, noon and night.  Lusted.  Of course, on some level, he
knew this and it made him uncomfortable.  I was often staring at his
crotch, trying to get a glimpse of his dick or trying to catch him in some
state of being undressed - especially in his underwear.  To this day, the
sight of a hunky guy in white briefs really gets me going.  I can trace
that image right back to my Dad walking to the shower wearing white briefs,
and he really filled them out.  So, when my Dad told me that we'd be
spending the night at the new house, just the two of us, I was pretty
excited.  Maybe I'd get to see him undress or even naked!

So, in the early evening, we drove out to the new house.  We got there and
brought in some boxes of stuff.  Walking around and looking into the
bedrooms, I got the biggest surprise.  The only room that was really
furnished was my sisters' bedroom.  There were two twin beds in that room,
and that was all.  My bed hadn't been moved and neither had my parents.
That meant Dad and I were going to sleep in the same room.  Sweet!  We
spent the rest of the evening watching TV on a small black-and-white set,
me sitting on one bed, he on the other.  Occasionally, he'd go to another
room to sit quietly and have a cigarette.  I don't think we really talked
much either.  And that seemed to suit us both fine.

I ended up falling asleep before he did and woke up in the middle of the
night still in my clothes.  I'm not sure what woke me up, his snoring or
the fact that I was BOILING hot in my jeans and sweatshirt.  I got up and
went to the bathroom to pee.  When I came back, I took off my pants and
sweatshirt and stood in the room, in my underwear, watching my Dad sleep in
the bed next to mine.  He was snoring and I figured he was out, so I
thought I'd go walk around and maybe sneak myself a cigarette. Since I was
14 and pretty fascinated with my Dad, it's no surprise that his cigarettes
held some fascination, too.  I found the pack in the family room, took one
out, lit it and inhaled.  I felt...like a MAN!  A grown-up man.  This, or
course, made my dick hard.  So I sat down on a lawn chair (put in the room
until the furniture arrived), continued smoking and gently squeezed my
dick.

I sat there smoking, feeling more and more dizzy as the nicotine got into
my system.  I was still squeezing my dick, and then slipped it through the
fly so it was out and in my hand.  I felt so good having my dick in my left
hand and a cigarette in my right.  It was my teenage idea of what it's like
to be a man - stroking and smoking!  Lost in all these thoughts about
manhood and sex, I guess I didn't hear him come in.  But suddenly, there he
was.  My Dad was standing there, in his white briefs and a T-shirt, looking
at me smoking AND jacking off!  I was BUSTED.

"What the HELL are you doing?" he asked.

"Uh... uh... nothing'." I replied.  I leaned forward so my dick, now soft,
sank into my lap.  I set the cigarette into the ashtray, but didn't put it
out.  My stomach started to hurt and I began to shake.  "I'm really in
trouble now," I thought.

"Nothing?  Doesn't look like nothing?  What are you DOING?"

Realizing I couldn't lie, I confessed, "I'm having a cigarette."

"Is that all?"

"Yes," I replied quietly.

"It looked like you were doing something else when I came out here."

Had it not been dark, I'm sure he would've seen me turning bright red.  I
could feel my face burning and struggled to think of what to say in
response.  I quickly slip my hand into my lap and pulled my fly open,
letting my dick back in my underpants.

"Why are you having a cigarette?" he asked.

"I don't know.  Because.  I just wanted to."

"How long have you been smoking?"

"I don't really.  I just have one from time to time... Just to see what
it's like" Of course, I had started smoking at school with some friends,
but I wasn't going to tell him that!  He was about my age when he started
smoking too.

"Well, you know it's really bad for you.  I've been smoking for 30 some
years and I really wish I didn't, or that I could quit.  You really
shouldn't start." I knew all this and nodded, but at the same time, I
noticed that his anger seemed to be fading and his voice getting quieter.
He picked up the pack, took a cigarette out and handed the pack to me, a
few cigarettes sticking out.

"Well, I'm going to have one.  You might as well join me."

I was rather stunned by this turn of events, and a little excited about it.
I carefully took a cigarette from the pack, part of me afraid it was a test
and he was going to smack me if I really tried to take one.  Instead, he
held out the lighter with his other hand and flicked the wheel.  The flame
ignited in front of me and I leaned forward and stuck the end of the
cigarette into the flame.  As I took a puff, I looked straight ahead and
right in front of me was that prize-of-prizes: his big, droopy crotch,
encased in white cotton.  The flame went out and the room went dark, but
that image was just burned onto my imagination.  I was so hungry for it.
It was so beautiful.

He sat in the other lawn chair, somewhat close to where I was, but turned
so I was looking at his side.  He slid his feet out on the floor until his
legs were straight and he'd slid down the chair.  Now I could see his bulge
sitting on his lap, a mound of manhood I couldn't stop looking at.  For a
while, it was quiet, except for the sound of our cigarettes burning, the
crackle of the paper burning with each inhalation.  Then he broke the
silence.

"So, when I came in you were engaged in some... other activity?  You don't
have to be embarrassed about it."

I sat there not knowing what to say.  I felt embarrassed all right.  But
not from doing it, but more from being caught.

"I know you're at an age when you get erections a lot and it's pretty
natural to start touching it.  Once you start touching it, pretty soon
you're...uh... well, you know."  Clearly, this conversation was making him
uncomfortable.

"What?"  I asked.  I knew what he was getting at, but I wanted to see where
he'd go with this conversation!

"Well.  Masturbating," he said, trying to sound parental.

"When you were my age, did you do it a lot?" I asked.  Now the conversation
was beginning to get VERY interesting to me and I felt a stir in my
underwear.

"Well, maybe not as much as you, but times were different then.  My Father
was very strict and told us over and over how bad it was and how sick it
could make us.  My brothers and I were scared to do it.  But I realize now
that he was wrong.  That's why I'm telling you this right now.  I don't
want you to grow up feeling the same guilt about it.  It's perfectly
natural.  Just remember there are times when you can do it and times when
you can't"

"Yeah," I replied, "Like when you're sleeping in the next room."

He smiled, laughed a little and said, "No, that's fine.  I just mean around
your sisters, and your Mom."

"So, you're not mad that I was out here... doing that?"

"No, I'm mad that you took my cigarettes without asking. But I'm not mad at
you for doing that."

The combination of relief at his not being angry, plus the talk about
masturbation had once again made me hard.  I sat there, hard, not knowing
what to do.  So I asked for another cigarette.

"Hold on, there.  You've already had two.  Don't you think you should go
back to bed?  That's where I'm headed. "

"Oh, c'mon, Dad. Let's have one more."  I said, trying to act like we were
friends rather than parent and child.

"Well, OK," he said, and held the pack out.

I stood up to get it and realized I still had a hard-on.  My underwear was
sticking out and up at a pretty odd angle.  There was no mistaking what was
going on there.

"Whoa," my Dad said when he saw it.  "Guess all that talk got you excited,"
and he kind of laughed.

"Yeah, it did," I said, and gave my dick a squeeze.  "Does that bother
you?" I asked.

"No, I guess not.  It's just a surprise, that's all.  Didn't expect it.

I took the cigarette, put it in my mouth, grabbed the lighter, lit it and
blew out a puff of smoke, all the time standing with a raging hard-on in
front of my Dad.  How crazy was this?

Then I noticed something amazing.  His bulge, that amazing, wonderful,
beautiful package I worshipped wasn't so bulgy.  In fact, I began to
realize that what had been a big mound was moving out toward his left
leg... My Dad was getting a hard-on!!

He also took a cigarette and lit it and I noticed that his hand was shaking
as he brought the flame to the cigarette end.  When he settled back in his
chair, he again slid his legs out and this time I did notice a long lump in
his briefs.  He was hard and, from what I could see, he was large.  I was
actually pretty happy with my dick.  Hard it was a good 7", maybe a bit
more and thick, with a nice, prominent head.  Looking at my Dad, I began to
see where my nice dick came from.  Obviously, he had a nice one too.

We sat smoking, not saying anything.  I took a drag, blew it out and gave
me dick a squeeze.  Then I decided to keep my hand there and see what he
would do.  Eventually, he looked over at me, looked at my hand in my
crotch, and smiled.

He smiled!

Then, to my utter amazement, he did the same thing.

I sat there looking at my Dad, telling myself; "Your Dad is sitting right
in front of you touching his hard-on" It was almost too much.

Then, I decided I'd just go-for-broke, and putting the cigarette I was
smoking in my mouth, I pulled on the waistband of my underwear with my left
hand, and with my right, freed my dick.  Suddenly, there I was, hard and
stroking my dick, right in front of my Dad.  I felt so amazing, so free and
so sexy.

My Dad, smiling and not missing a beat, did the same thing.  My heart leapt
into my throat.  He pulled down his waistband and out popped the biggest
dick I'd ever seen.  It was thick, very thick, had a prominent head just
like mine and curved slightly.

So, there we were, sitting in lawn chairs, on bare wood floors, with
nothing else around us, legs spread out in front of us, underwear pulled
down and tucked behind our balls, cigarettes in one hand, stroking our
dicks with the other.  It was the most unreal moment of my short life.

Neither of us said a word and just continued stroking.  My eyes were
focused on his dick, his eyes on mine. I think I can say that he must've
felt some sense of pride seeing my big dick.  I certainly don't think he
felt disappointment.

This whole incident was really too much for me.  Almost as soon as it
began, I quickly stood up, way beyond the point of stopping, let out a
quiet gasp and came.  The cum began plopping onto the floor in front of me.
As the contractions of my dick began to lessen, I opened my eyes to see me
Dad also begin to stand up, his hand furiously pumping his dick.  Then he
bent his knees slightly, pushed his hips forward and let out a load moan.
I just stood there watching my Dad come.  It was fucking beautiful.  The
first shot flew out and I heard it hit the floor quite far away.  Then more
came out, shot after shot after shot.  It was so intense to watch him.  I
came to my senses and looked around.  There were huge gobs of cum on the
floor in front of both of us.

So, there we stood, naked with raging erections and cum on the floor around
us.

"Phew," my Dad said, "That was something.  Guess we both needed that."

"Yeah," I said, struggling to think of something else to say.

"Well, I guess we ought to clean this up."

Of course, I was thinking, if he weren't there, I'd get on my hands and
knees and lick his semen off the floor in a second.

Instead, I offered, "It's just wood, why not just let it dry.  Besides, I
like the idea of letting sit on the floor.  Like we're being territorial."

"What are you talking about?" he said.  He'd put his dick away and had lit
another cigarette and was sitting down.

"Well, this is our new house.  We need to claim it.  You know, the men of
the family marking their territory.  So, we come on the floor and leave it.
It's making it ours.  You know?

"I guess," he replied.  "But if it's noticeable in the morning, you're
going to wash it off.  I can't have your Mother and sisters see white
stains on the floor."

"Deal." I said.

Exhausted, but very happy, I said goodnight and made my way back to the
bedroom and fell into bed.  This was definitely going to be a memorable
Thanksgiving.  But lying there in bed, I had no idea just how memorable.
That night was only the start of a relationship my Father and I would
develop.