Date: Sat, 24 Dec 2016 03:14:43 -0700 From: Jack Subject: Father's Day Fuck 1 Disclaimer: The following story is fictional. Any resemblance to actual person, living or dead is purely coincidental. This work is the property of the author and legal action would be taken if it is reproduced, modified or reworked without the author's written consent. All rights reserved This story may have grammatical errors, so please ignore that and don't let it ruin your experience. Let me know what you think about my stories at strokebudaz@gmail.com AND the Very IMPORTANT one! Don't forget to donate to Nifty. *********** ****************** ********** ******** Father's Day Fuck Part 1 At 60 years old, my father came to live with me in my 3 bedroom/2 bath house. An old pine tree (well over 45 feet tall) was blown over during a thunderstorm, landing across a portion of my father?s modest 2 bedroom duplex. He considered staying in an extended stay motel, but I convinced him that he?d be much happier just staying with me. According to the contractor he hired, the repairs would take at least 6 weeks. I am the only child of my parents, and after Mom died 10 years ago, I always felt I should keep a close eye on Dad. That was totally unnecessary, of course, as my father was a very self-sufficient, smart, and strong man. He was strong in both body and mind, and I did what I could to emulate that standard. Even at 60, my father still maintained a full-time position as Project Manager for a very reputable construction company. He had worked hard for 25 years for Maxwell Construction, both as a laborer and later as a supervisor. His thick neck, broad muscular back, chest and stomach were built through long hours, incredible physical endurance, and ability to step up and lead a crew when they needed him. My muscles, which were similar to my father?s, except for their size, year round tanned look, and the reddish brown hair that seemed to cover nearly every square inch of his body. Of course, much of it had become silver, especially across his back, chest and stomach. I had a nice thick patch of darker brown hair across my chest, with a tapered trail down the center which spread around my belly button and from there to below my belt where my pubes, more reddish brown, enveloped my nearly 8x7 inch cock. My ass, legs, pits and arms had the same reddish brown hair. I had worked on a few construction projects with my dad, starting when I was 16, and the experience had taught me the value of hard work, and had begun to make me more aware of how my body was growing, and how much I enjoyed the feeling of my body changing from a boy to a man. It was during that time that I realized I was more sexually aroused by men than women. I accepted the idea of me being gay, but didn?t feel it was anything I needed to share with my parents. I didn?t have a lot of experiences, but because I was on the varsity wrestling team my last two years of high school, a couple of my teammates seemed to figure things out. Some of us would spend time together, during weekends or school breaks. Going camping together, which would involve exploring each other?s bodies and figuring out what each of us liked. Most of those guys ended up married with children, barely remembering the sexual discoveries we made together. I went to college on the west coast, majoring in journalism. I worked as a reporter on a small California newspaper, eventually advancing to feature editor. I was offered the job of assistant managing editor in my hometown?s paper, I gladly accepted and came back home. I lived a pretty low-profile life, never feeling the need to hang out in the gay bars, dancing and partying all night. I wasn?t celibate, either. Most of the guys I ended up having sex with I knew from my local gym, or occasional hookups through online websites. Neither of my parents questioned me about my love life, or lack of one. They were proud of the man I?d become, and were never shy about saying so. So, as I said, my dad came to stay with me. I was actually glad to have another person in my house. We talked while we got him settled into the guest bedroom, just across the hall from mine. ?Son, I really appreciate you doing this. But I really don?t want you to go to any major trouble on my account. This is your home and I want you live like you normally do.? ?Thanks, and I want you to feel comfortable here, too, Dad. Treat this place like your own home. You?ve got full reign here.? I took him on a quick tour, showing him the guest bath down the hall, my media room with large flat screen TV and all necessary extras. We went through the kitchen to the stairway leading to the basement. When we got to the bottom, he saw my array of home gym equipment. I had lots of free weights, a treadmill, as well as a large machine that could be configured to isolate and build specific muscle groups. There was a large mirror along the opposite wall so I could watch myself while I worked out. He was impressed and I told him he could use this stuff whenever he wanted. I even had a small shower installed at the other end of the basement, so I could clean up down there if I chose. I didn?t take long for us both to become relaxed around each other. Being a single man, I tended to be very casual about what I wore at home, especially since I was required to wear a shirt and tie for work everyday. I would normally change into a pair of shorts and a t-shirt when I got home. Dad admitted that, since he became single, he had reverted to a lot of his ?old bachelor ways? as well. He?d usually come home from work on a jobsite tired, his tie loosened, his shirt soaked with sweat. He?d strip down, grab a towel from the hall closet and head to the guest bath for a shower. A few times, while I worked in my office across from the guest bath, I could catch a glimpse of him there drying off, or shaving, leaving the door slightly open. I began to realize that my father was actually a very hot looking man. I never thought there was anything wrong with these feelings. We were two single, adult men. I didn?t think of him as my father as much as a friend. I began to take notice of his beefy body, covered in a thick pelt of silvery golden hair, even across his legs and ass, which I?d gazed at while he groomed himself in front of the mirror. I smiled to see the way he?d step back and admire his own body, running his big hands across his furry chest and hard pecs. He?d flex his biceps and do a few poses, enjoying the way his body had matured. Usually his hand would slide down and casually caress his thick cock, tugging gently on it. I began to imagine what he looked like as he masturbated, giving my own thickening member a needed grope. I decided then that perhaps the two of us needed to get closer, both as father and son, and man to man. I happened to look at the calendar on the wall in front of me. I noticed that this coming Sunday was Father?s Day. I figured that would be a perfect time to put my plan into action. Dad was in his bedroom, sliding on a pair of loose nylon shorts and a tank top that fit snugly over his chest and stomach. I called to him from my office, and he stopped at the door, with a questioning look. ?You know what this Sunday is?? He just shook his head, and I continued. ?It?s Father?s Day! We should do something special, don?t you think?? ?Dan, you don?t have to do anything special, really.? ?But I want to. To make up for those years I gave you ugly ties, or cheap cologne. Or that horrible coffee mug I made you in grade school.? We both laughed remembering how that mug leaked like a sieve the first time he poured coffee in it. After a moment, he said, ?Ok, do what you want, but I don?t want you making a big fuss.? I followed him to the kitchen where he got two beers from the fridge, handed me one, and we moved to the big couch in the media room, turning on the television to watch the local news before we fixed dinner. I was hardly aware of what was being broadcast. My mind was consumed with how I was going to make this Father?s Day unforgettable. For both of us.