Date: Fri, 16 Jun 2017 20:10:43 +0000 (UTC) From: a4f101 Subject: Father's Day Tales - Lucky Cap Here's a story taken from my Tumblr, at talesfromunderthemattress.tumblr.com. You can find this one, and the pic that inspired it, here: https://talesfromunderthemattress.tumblr.com/post/161747348664/ 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. 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. a4ftales@gmail.com. Enjoy. ***** "You almost ready, Charlie?" I called out from the kitchen. "We gotta go, tee time's at midday!" "Almost there!" I heard him holler down the hallway from the bedrooms. Probably looking at himself in the mirror, making sure his outfit was just right. Kids these days. I didn't think I was that vain at his age, though I was probably lying to myself about that. Hell, he had every right to be a little into himself - he was a fine-looking young stud, a genuinely good-looking man nowadays. Big-shouldered, thick-muscled from all the sports he'd played in high school, and now from the gym on campus. A nice thick sheaf of dark-blond hair, square jaw, his grandfather's strong profile. My profile, I thought to myself with a little sense of self-satisfaction. He looked right in just about anything. Right now, though, we were getting close to running late, and I was just ready for him to present his good-looking ass so we could get moving. I'd thought he might want to skip the Father's Day tournament down at the local club. We'd played in the father-son game for years, since he was a little kid, and I knew he wasn't much of a golfer these days. I'd been surprised when he'd asked me if I'd registered for it back at the end of May, but pleased too. He was almost done with college, probably off to kick ass in New York or someplace far away after that. Times like these were starting to feel more and more precious to me, as I watched my boy mature into a man, ready to start a man's life on his own terms. Find his way in the world. "Quit it, Bill," I told myself. "Just enjoy the day, don't get all 'Cats in the Cradle'." I slid my phone into my pocket, grabbed the car keys, and looked around for my lucky ballcap. All these years playing this tournament and we'd never quite managed to win it. I was hoping my Sox cap might help get us there this year. OK, maybe it was a silly semi-superstitious way of thinking, but I loved that ballcap. Charlie had gotten it for me for Father's Day years back, paying for it with his pocket money, after a trip I'd taken him on to see the Sox play at Fenway. We still watched the Sox games on TV together when we could, even though I hadn't lived up North since after grad school. I still remembered the look on his face when he'd given it to me - a little nervous, hoping that I'd like it; excited to see my reaction; and the big smile that had broken out on his already-handsome young face when he saw how his gift had touched me. It was a subtle commemoration of that trip together, and I was deeply gladdened to know he wanted to preserve that special father-son time together as much as I did. I wore it with pride whenever I could. It was a nice way to stay in touch with the old days, and wearing it reminded me of all those good times with my boy by my side. Especially that first trip on our own together, just us guys, and how much he'd enjoyed "man time" with his old man. The special kind of glow you feel when you and your boy are truly bonding, that's hard to describe if you don't have a son. That old cap signified all of that to me - the strength of our relationship, the enduring love I had for my kid, and how tight we still were, even now that he was more or less all grown up, a man in his own right. Still my boy though, always would be, and today of all days seemed like the perfect occasion to wear the cap he'd given me with pride. "You seen my cap anywhere?" I called down the hallway. Jesus, he really needed to hurry it the hell up, I was kind of hoping for a beer before we teed off. "Yeah, I got it here, Dad," he called out. I started to make my way down the hall to his bedroom. "We really gotta go, bud," I said. "Yeah, yeah," he said, and now his voice sounded a little strained. The hell was he doing, putting on a corset? "I'm coming, Dad." I rounded the corner to his bedroom doorway, and stopped dead in my tracks. There he stood, shorts and underwear pooled around his ankles, his polo shirt pulled up under his armpits, showing off a fine set of tanned, thick abdominals, a long, powerful pair of golden-furred thighs, and the deeply dimpled clench of his big, round ex-jock ass. All that, and the length of his big young cock, thick and hard as steel in his hand as he jacked himself, fast and slick. He looked up and grinned at me. "Jesus fuck," I grunted. He looked like one of those so-called straight college jock types the porn companies seemed to favor nowadays. Not that I was complaining. I felt my cock throb to life inside my underwear. I looked down at the end of his bed, where a big storage bench covered in thickly padded black vinyl sat. He'd immediately christened it "the blowjob seat" when I'd gotten it for him to store his old uniforms and stuff in a couple years back, and then set to work demonstrating that particular use for it on me before I'd even stopped laughing. Now, though, I could see my much-loved, well-worn Sox cap sitting square in the middle of it... right in his line of fire. The cap he'd saved up his pocket money for, and handed to me with an excited kind of reverence on that Father's Day when he was 11. My lucky cap. "Told you I was coming, Dad," he said, his handsome face glowing with a light sheen of sweat, tipping me a cheeky wink, before his mouth dropped open in that old expression I knew all too well. "What..." was all I could say, because seriously, what the fuck? And also because my cock was suddenly near full-hard inside my shorts, realizing what he was just about to do. I listened to the slick, lubed-up sounds of his fist jamming away on his cock, his breath getting heavier, the deep, low grunts emanating from his chest as he went up on the balls of his feet, his powerful thighs and glutes flexing beautifully. Then he locked eyes with me, let out a chesty moan, and started to shoot. "Fuck yeah, Dad," he growled, as his big, handsome cock fired off. I couldn't help but count the number of spurts as they rained down on the bench and sprayed the brim and the side of my ballcap, eight hard and thick jets of prime college-boy cum. Christ, that was as big as the load he'd dropped in bed with me an hour ago. Damn, I missed having a 20-year-old's refractory period. "Fuck, that was awesome," he panted, grinning at me. He looked down at his handiwork with a kind of perverse pride. I stared at it too. Not all of him had gotten on it, but I could see a good dose of my son's cum soaking into the band, where the faint traces of my sweat had left their mark on the much-worn, faded blue cotton. "What the..." I said, still stunned and suddenly horned beyond belief. Charlie just gave me an amiable shrug as he pulled his underwear and shorts up, casually licking the last stray traces of his cum off his fingers. "I dunno, the idea just kinda hit me in the shower," he grinned. "Hell, who knows, maybe this'll be our lucky year, huh big guy?" He handed me my cum-streaked ballcap and clapped me manfully on the shoulder. "That's gonna look fuckin' great on you, Dad," he said, that husky edge to his voice as he leaned in and kissed my lips. I leaned in for a little more, suddenly hungry as hell for him, but he just chuckled and pulled back, smacking my ass for good measure as he picked up his pristine white Under Armour ballcap and seated it on his handsome head. "Like you said, Dad - we're gonna be late," he said, grinning at me in the mirror over his dresser as he grabbed his phone and wallet. Then he headed down the hall to the front door, leaving me there with my jizzed-up ballcap in one hand, and my cock hard as steel inside my shorts. My cock barely subsided on the drive over to the course, my cap resting on the armrest between us, the BMW's A/C blasting cold air over it and drying it off. By the time we got there, you could barely tell my son had shot his load on it, unless you were looking real close, or you already knew it was there. No reason why anybody should be looking at it that closely. No reason why anybody would want to shoot their cum all over a man's ballcap. So... why did he do it? And why was it suddenly the hottest thing I'd ever seen in my whole life? For his part, Charlie wasn't saying anything about it. Just that ever-present smile of his as he chatted with some of the other father-son duos, looking frankly amazing in his powder-blue polo and khaki shorts, all some kind of high-tech Under Armour, cut like they were made especially for his muscular young body. I watched him interact with the other dads and sons as I sipped my beer, and like every year since him and me had gotten close like we were now, I wondered how many of these men and their boys might have a secret bond like we did. It was something we'd talked about often, me and my boy, usually in bed in the afterglow after another round of intense, incestuous lovemaking. How hot it would be if we weren't the only ones. How hot it was that we had this bond, and maybe others did too. I wondered if any of these other father-son duos might suspect that me and my big kid had spent most of this Father's Day morning naked in my bed, coaxing a couple loads out of and inside of each other. If any of them could see the dried, ghostly streaks of my son's third load of the day on my ballcap. The thought sent a warm tingle through my loins, and I knocked back the rest of my beer and focused on getting our stuff together, before I threw a big, obvious bone in my shorts in front of everyone. We wound up playing pretty damn well, and the pure pleasure of watching my boy hit the ball, his big calves deeply tanned and carpeted with blond curls, flexing under the sun as his high-tech breathable shorts clung to the tight, round mounds of his manly ex-jock ass, broad shoulders swinging, pushed all those thoughts about my cap off to the side for awhile. A couple beers sure helped with that too, and I found myself rising to the occasion, working with him as a two-man team. It was good to be out together like this, bonding outside of what we did in secret together. Watching the other men and their sons, feeling that kind of slow, warm contentment you get from doing something with your boy. Good to compete against them, too - I was in this for a lazy, sunny Sunday of golf with my pride and joy at first, but Charlie's natural competitive streak had started to rub off on me too. I guess the set of clubs I'd gotten him for his fifteenth birthday had been a decent investment after all. I always played a little better with a couple beers under my belt, and by the time we hit the ninth hole, I had a real good feeling about how we were doing, especially if the other half of our foursome, the Masons, were any guide. Maybe this would be our year after all. Maybe it was my lucky cap. "Maybe it's that fucking cumload your son shot all over it, Bill," I thought to myself, feeling that slow burn in my loins again. We took a quick break after the ninth hole, at the halfway mark. "I dunno about you guys, but I could use a leak," Charlie said. Tony Mason waved him off as he and his boy put their clubs back in their bags, looking a little deflatedly at their scorecards. Charlie turned to me, nodded his head at the cart, and I climbed aboard for the quick, bumpy ride down to the restroom block. Looked like we were the only customers, for now. "Last chance before we win this sumbitch, Dad," he said with that easy grin of his, already reaching for the fly of his shorts as he climbed out of the cart, and hell, a leak sounded like a good idea now with a few beers under my belt. I stepped into the cool dimness of the restroom. This wasn't a fancy golf club or anything, just a regular older course, with basic amenities. They kept it clean, but the restroom was nothing more than a place for a quick pit stop. Charlie wasn't standing at the urinal - he was leaning against the rusty old sink, a confident smile on his handsome face as he watched me enter, his cock rising hard, high and handsome from his open shorts. "Jesus, bud," I said. "Anybody could come along..." "Shhh," he said easily, stretching his free hand out to snag the front pocket of my shorts and pull me closer. "That Mason kid was born to shank the ball. Probably got it from his Dad. If that kid was old enough to drink, the two of `em would be too busy crying in their beers right now. C'mere. We got this, Dad." He pressed his lips to mine again, and I couldn't really help but moan and kiss him back, slow and deep, secretly loving the thrill of doing this right here, right now. Charlie tugged my ballcap off my head as we went to town on each other's mouths, the air nice and cool on the sweaty top of my scalp, a nice relief from the intense June sun. "Playing like a couple pros today, Dad," he murmured between kisses. "Think I got an idea why." He set my cap upside-down on the sink and winked at me as he fisted his cock, faster and faster. I unzipped my fly and made to reach inside my shorts for my own, but his free hand on my wrist stayed it. "Save it, big guy," he said. "Not long now. I got plans for that load of yours. That big fuckin' Dad load. Fuck..." His eyes rolled up a little as he moaned, stroking his big shiny cock faster and faster, and I almost chuckled at how quickly he could go from 0 to 100. Hell, I was the same at 20. "Gonna win this thing, Dad," he panted. "Be the Father and Son champs this year. I can feel it. Just gotta... fuck... put us over the top... ah fuck yeah..." "Do it, Charlie," I found myself saying, my own voice low and husky with taboo lust, squeezing the powerful bulge in my shorts as I watched him, nodding my approval. Joining him in this new kink he'd discovered, and loving it. "Make it lucky for us, big guy. Shoot that load, Champ." "Aw Dad!" he growled, grabbing my upturned cap in one hand, his other a blur on his throbbing college-boy cock. I reached around and squeezed his big, powerful glute through his shorts, and that did him in. He hunched over, pointed that juicy young cock of his down, and spurted another big load right into the upturned crown of my lucky cap, the one he'd given me a decade ago with such a big, eager, boyish smile. I counted seven shots this time, another powerful young load, spurting hard and splatting thickly into the lining of the cap. He grunted and shuddered through the last twitching throes of his cum, leaning back into me a little as he collected the last spurts of it. "Damn, that was another good one," he said, huffing out a breath and swiping the sweat from his forehead. He casually tucked his big, spent cock back inside his UA boxer briefs and zipped himself up - I suddenly thought of how fucking manly he was going to smell by the end of the day, with a shudder of lust - then turned to me with that grin again, his teeth big and white and gleaming in the cool dimness of the restroom. I watched him pick up my cap, my heart thumping in time with the pulse in my cock, and swallowed hard as he almost ceremoniously lifted it to my head and set it firmly down on it. I grunted at the sensation of his thick, warm load against the hot skin of my scalp, seeping into my skin, collecting in my hair. This was so intense, so kinky, so powerful - almost too much to process, all at once. All I knew was my cock was throbbing to beat the band. "Holy fuck, Champ," I growled, staring at him with lusty surprise. "Yeah, Dad," he said with that grin, nodding slowly. "You get it. Just go with it. Now let's go win this fucking thing. Show these dudes how well a dad and his boy can come together and kill it." I grabbed him by his trim waist and pulled him tightly to me, let him feel the steel of my cockbulge in my shorts. "Come together, huh kid?" I growled. "Seems to me like the only one who's come so far is you." "So bring your A-game, Dad," he grinned, reaching down to squeeze my bulge. "Let's get that trophy, and then you can collect your winnings." Talk about motivation. I came out of the restroom feeling like Phil fucking Mickelson, ready to storm the greens and take that Father-Son trophy. I could smell Charlie's musk on me, his thick cumload slowly cooling, mixing with the sweat on my scalp and slowly drying into my skin, almost gluing my cap to the top of my head. Charlie was definitely picking up on my newly determined play, and he rose to the challenge accordingly. We tore through the next eight holes, the Masons drag-assing along behind us, shanking their balls into the rough, the water hazards, just about anywhere but the hole. By the time we teed up on the eighteenth, I was feeling fully in control of my game, my muscles warm and loose, Charlie's cumload long dried into my scalp and the fabric of my lucky cap. Maybe it was those few beers talking, but I felt infused with his muscular, youthful power. His essence. Ready to storm the green and wrest the Father-Son trophy away from every other man out here today. I took a deep breath, cleared my mind, took a swing, and managed to birdie the hole. I was feeling pretty good damn good about that, but then Charlie lined up, that handsome rounded ass of his wiggling a little as he set up his stroke, and sank the damn ball on his first try. "Shit!" I said in disbelief, grinning at the same time. "Goddammit," Tony Mason muttered behind me. Charlie didn't showboat, just smiled and touched his finger to the brim of his ballcap as he looked at me. I felt the heat sizzle through my crotch again as our eyes met, and I wondered how I was going to last through the tallying of the scores without dragging his ass into the rough and pounding the hell out of his fine, thick young man ass. A couple hours later, it was getting pretty dark. The fireflies sparked in the warm evening air around us as we clutched tight to each other on the banks of the dam at the bottom of the course. Charlie's clothes were scattered on the grass with mine, our Father-Son Tournament first-place trophy sitting proudly on the edge of the green above us, as he wrapped his muscular limbs around me and sucked on my tongue. The sounds of music and men's drinking voices carried down the hill from the clubhouse, but we were all alone down here. Just the sounds of two men grunting, murmuring, panting, fucking. Slow and deep, the load I'd been building up through this long, intense day feeling heavy in my balls now, as I pushed the leaking tip of my cock to my son's tight, fur-lined hole, preparing to finally breach him. "Told you we'd win this thing, Dad," he panted between tongue-thrusting kisses. "One hell of a last shot you took there, Champ," I grunted back, pushing the head of my cock more firmly against him, feeling him starting to give as he grinned up at me and squirmed against my big body. "Hell, I got plenty more in me, big guy," he grinned. "But it's yours I'm interested in. Your fucking Dad cum. I know it's been building up in these big balls of yours... all that cum you made me with... all day long... So c'mon Dad. Fuck your boy. Take your prize, big guy." I growled and clamped my mouth over his, because as hot as it was to hear my big kid talk dirty to me, I was a man on a mission now. He'd been playing with me all day, and now it was time for him to reap what he'd been sowing. Charlie growled back at me, two men deep in heat for each other, snaking his muscular arms and thighs around me, drawing me deeper into him as he opened himself up and tried to swallow my tongue whole. I felt the intense, pulsing heat of his core, washing over the very tip of my precum-streaming Dad cock as it pressed into him. Then, with a deep, husky grunt, he clapped his big hands on the thick muscles of my ass and pulled me inside of him. "Aw fuck yeah!" he yelled as I thrust up into him, and the deep, lusty manliness of my boy's voice echoing off the quiet woods around the course made my loins tingle even harder for him. After that, there were no words. Just those grunts, those panting breaths, the hard, repetitive sound of flesh slapping against flesh, the thick, wet sounds of intense deep kissing. I plowed my one and only son with lusty fervor, a father getting the ultimate gift from his son, naked but for the lucky ballcap he'd given me, and christened for me, on top of my sweating head. I could see him looking up at it when his eyes weren't locked on mine. "My favorite thing in the world, buddy," I panted. "Yeah Dad?" he said, with an echo in his grin of that excited boy who'd first handed the pristine Sox cap to me a decade ago. "Fuck yeah," I grunted. "Reminds me of special times with you, boy. The special bond we got." "So damn special, Dad," he murmured, craning up to kiss me, long and deep and wet, as my fuckthrusts sped up. He'd had me on the boil all damn day, and now his beautiful manly tightness was finally about to do me in once and for all. Charlie reached up and touched the brim of my cap, meeting my lusty gaze with his own. I didn't even think about it - I reached up, swiped the cap off my sweating head, and set it down on top of his thick blond hair, tugging it down nice and tight on his handsome head. His eyes went wide, his mouth started to gape soundlessly, and I knew I was about to witness my studly son's fifth cum of the day. "Aw fuck, Dad!" he groaned through gritted teeth, and sent a volley of cum up the clenching, sweating muscles of his torso, his big, handsome cock spurting those creamy jets across his skin. That was all I needed. I thrust my cock deep up inside of him, locked my gaze on his, and finally started to shoot my paternal cum. Ending the day the way I'd started it, shooting my stud boy full of the cum that had created him, through the cock I'd made him with. Closing that circle, shooting hard and deep inside of him. Winning this very special father-son game we'd been playing all day, and claiming the ultimate prize at last.