Guy exploring life

Yo! New guy across the way! Yeah, you prep! You with the button up, tie, and brief case. Why don't you come smoke with me? What? You don't smoke. Of course you do. We've been smoking for years together. What do you man we just met? Come on dude we've been bros since birth and we've been smoking together almost as long. Yeah there we go, now you're remembering. Yeah man take off your shirt, make yourself comfy, it's only us guys out there. Here dude, light up. You're not new to this! We've been smoking since, what, 14? Yeah man we found them in you old man's room. What's gotten into you? Yeah man I bet your face itches, you've got that big beard. What do you mean you're clean shaven? Since when? You were the first guy our age to grow a beard and I've never seen you let anyone forget it. You inspired me man to grow mine out. Here bro put on your cap, maybe thatll get you in the right headspace. How's the new ink healing up? What's up with you, the new ink! The one on your pec. Yeah man that one. This is like your tenth time getting a tattoo. Feeling good night? It's all feeling really good right? Na na don't worry about going back across the street we live together now, we've been married for a couple years bro, since we graduated high school. We work together on the farm. Come on man. There you go now you're remembering.

Brady and Lisa were the most surprising. With three kids and almost 30 years of marriage I was sure they’d go the distance. So I was stunned to hear about those two, for sure. 

I hadn’t seen Brady since last summer, but when he messaged me and asked if he could crash in my spare room over the weekend, I said sure. My condo is close to the downtown bars, also known as “the Viagra Triangle,” so Brady would be in the thick of it. 

I was shocked to see Brady - he’s always been a handsome man, tall and athletic, but it was clear that he’d been working out. I mean, serious shit. Dude looked chiseled.

I guess I was staring a bit too long, though. 

“I gotta stay in competitive shape for these young women at the clubs,” he volunteered after noticing my gaze. 

“Sorry, man, just a big change,” I said, trying to hide the surprise bone that popped up in my sweats. “You look great! And healthy!” 

He looked great as he headed to the clubs. I woke up early to find Brady wandering around the kitchen in just a pair of briefs. Seriously brief briefs…..

“Sorry man,” he said. “Just getting some coffee and then heading back to bed.” 

“Oh, yeah, no biggie. Did you…..?” 

“No one’s in my room, Daaaad,” he answered, and I laughed. 

It was funny, and we were laughing, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of Brady. He looked amazing. 

“What?” he said, almost annoyed. 

“Those are pretty small briefs.” I pointed to his pouch. “Not leaving much to the imagination. Is that a grower or a shower?” 

Brady pulled his shorts down, and I found out a few essential life truths that day. 

(1) The reason he calls his dick “The Captain” is because it has an enormous knob on it, like a captain’s hat. 

(2) Holy fuck is it ever a grower. That might be a world record of grower cocks. Sleeping, The Captain is pretty average, but that thing expands to nine inches of angry, veiny goodness. 

(3) His dick gets really big and really tight when someone calls him “Daddy.” 

(4) When Brady says “I’m gonna cum,” bring an umbrella and possibly a canoe. Dude spurted so much cum I’m surprised he didn’t pass out. I swallowed as much as I could, but even I couldn’t quite get every last drop. 

Drew grimaced as he took a sip, then another. “Your cum’s really bitter, Dad,” he said.

“What? You a connoisseur, now?” I enjoyed teasing him, it was just part of the dynamic he and I had, even before the sex.

“Would it make you jealous if I were?” he asked, in his now deep, fully-adult voice. His bare foot was tracing up along the insides of my thighs, keeping my hardon fully erect even after the amazing cum I just had.

“Yes and no,” I answered truthfully. “I want you to live your life, Drew, always have,” I said.

“I’m pretty happy, Dad, you don’t to worry about me.” My son was the poster model of happy-go-lucky. But that was the problem. I think he hides his feelings behind his can-do demeanor.

“Of course I worry about you. I’m a dad. Maybe not a good one considering what we’ve been doing…”

“Fuck that, Dad. You know I want it. You do, too.”

“Yeah, I do,” I admitted. We sat across from one another, smiling, enjoying each other’s presence. The caresses of Drew’s foot were making me a little horny, but the blowjob had definitely taken the edge off.

He could sense I wanted to say something. “What?” he prompted.

“I just. Well, I want you to find someone special. A boyfriend, partner, maybe one day a husband. I want that for you.”

“Me, too. Only…” his voice got real quiet, almost shy. “I’ve thought about us that way.”

For all the lines we’d crossed and all the loads of mine he’d swallowed this admission hit me like a ton of bricks. Because I wanted it and because I knew it couldn’t happen. “Drew…” I said, emotion heavy in my voice.

He stopped me. “No, Dad. Listen. We can make it work. You’re divorced. I’ll pretend I’m sowing my oats. I could move back to the city for a job, no one will know, except us.”

I was this close to speaking but was afraid of what I’d say. Drew could tell and he smiled.

“You want it too, Dad, I know. It’s OK, you don’t have to say it yet. The fact you haven’t said no is the best birthday present yet.”

“Oh son,” I sighed as I leaned forward and kissed him. It was taboo and sexual and all that, but tender and romantic too. Our tongues battled softly, passing back and forth from his mouth to mine, as I tasted the champagne and remnants of my cum.

“Dad,” he hissed as we parted. “I know we haven’t done this yet, but in case you wanted to, I prepared myself.”

With that my lacrosse-player son turned around and leaned over the rail of the hot tub, looking out. The muscles of his upper back were strong and rippled, but they didn’t compare to the amazing firmness of his buttocks, which parted slightly as he spread his powerful legs.

As if by instinct I stepped up, feeling the air-cooled skin a contrast with the warm bubbling water beneath. And as I pressed my cock inside his furry cleft I could feel it, the greasy coat of whatever he’d slathered on his hole. I nudged forward, expecting tightness. I found it, too, that pucker a perfect elastic ring clutching against my cockhead. But I found a little give, too, a little readiness on his part, as his entrance dilated a little, then more, and my prick entered inside my son for the first time.

It was furnace hot inside. And tight, too. Thank God I’d blown my first load of the afternoon because I was now able to savor this without going off instantly. I pushed in, boring my way inside, while Drew urged me on, first silently, with his body motions, then verbally. “Fuck me, Dad,” he grunted.

And I did. Maybe it was the idea that it was wrong, even worse than having my own son suck me off. Maybe it was the sheer physicality of the action. Maybe it was just how good my cock felt. Either way, I knew I was hooked.

I remember the first time I saw him, when I was a high school freshman. He was a new teacher that year, only a decade or so older than us. 

He was so handsome, I’d stop walking in the halls, just to see him walk by, his tailored three piece suit, a bushy full head of hair, looking like a cross between a rock star and the handsomest talk show host ever. 

I turned 18 the Christmas of my senior year, and as a New Year’s resolution, I decided I was going to seduce Mr. Bernardi before graduation. I don’t know why I thought it would happen. 

Maybe it was the delusions of youth. Maybe it was that song that I’d been hearing on the radio for years:

Sometimes it’s not so easy / To be the teacher’s pet

I tried everything I could - a challenge since I didn’t have a single class with Mr. Bernardi. Even the stuck-in-the-rain trick. 

Wet bus stop / I’m waiting / His car is warm and dry 

Mr. Bernardi gave me a ride home, and even put a hand on my knee as he dropped me off. “You okay, sport?” I nodded, fighting back the urge to cry, croaked out a thank you, and ran inside, foiled again. 

Graduation came and went, with no success in my seduction plan. And I just went, leaving town, my youthful idiocy in the rearview mirror. 

I was back in town to sell my parents’ old house, manage the estate sale, and say one last goodbye to this place. 

It looked smaller, less saturated with color than I remembered as a kid. The pharmacy and hardware store were closed down, replaced by a Wal-mart near the highway. 

Gracie’s Diner looked like a shadow of itself, but I went inside anyway. She remembered my usual, even after all these years.

“Hey, sport,” I heard a voice say.

Mr. Bernardi was standing at the end of my table. 

He’d lost the bushy bits of his hair - hell, most of the hair on his head - and packed on forty pounds of beef, but he was still the handsome rock star stud. 

He was saying something, but my brain - and my eyes - went right to the bulge that was at my eye level. 

“Sorry, I didn’t hear you, Mr. Bernardi,” I said apologetically.

“It’s Matt,” he said. “You’re too old to call anyone mister, sport. So you at your parents’ house?” 

“No, I’m at the Motor Inn,” I explained. “Selling the old house.”

“Ah, man,” he scowled. “That place isn’t what it used to be. Too many meth heads out there. You shouldn’t stay there.” 

“I’ll be OK, really,” I smiled. 

“You’re coming to stay with me,” he said. He reached in his pocket for a business card, and wrote down his home address. “Go check out. I’ll see you in an hour.” 

With one hand patting my shoulder, he took off. 

He was right, of course - the Motor Inn had seen better days. I paid my balance and checked out, my hands shaking. 

I knocked on his door, suitcase in one hand, duffel in the other. 

“Come in!” I heard him say. I walked in, through the entryway of his house. It was nice. Recently renovated. Looked like something straight out of HGTV. 

I got to his living room, and stopped.

Mr. Bernardi - Matt - was on the couch, in just a pair of shorts.

“Have a seat,” he said. “I’ve just got to finish a call.” 

I couldn’t keep my eyes off of Matt, who kept patting the fur on his belly while he talked. Damn, he was so hairy and so beefy. Thick thighs, so meaty. And that bulge again. 

Finally, he ended his call and set his cell down. A big grin spread across his face. 

“I’m glad you’re here,” he said. “How does it feel?” 

“How does what feel?” I said. 

His legs spread wider open, giving me a great shot of his bulge. 

“How does it feel to be tormented by something you want so badly you can taste it?” 

I put my face in my hands. 

“In case you were wondering, sport, you’re a hot fuck. I love big beefball boys like you. And you made me hard as a rock every FUCKING day your senior year.” 

“Wow,” was all I could stupidly manage to say. 

“I wasn’t sure you knew what it all meant, knew what you wanted. You know what you want now, sport?” 

“Fuck yes, Mr. Bernardi!”

“It’s Matt, man……”

I interrupted him. “The first time? It’s Mr. Bernardi.” 

“Aw, fuck, yeah,” he said, grabbing the pouch of his shorts. 

I walked to him, knelt in front of him, rubbed my face all over the front of his shorts, and it all came back to me, the scent of his cologne, the way his ass shifted in his pants when he walked, the thousands of loads I shot thinking about him. 

He leaned back and pulled the elastic of his shorts underneath his balls, and the scent hit my face as his fat, veiny niner sprung out of the pouch. 

Just  another Hanson Street block party, late in the day on another sweaty summer Sunday, and we’d all had way too much to drink. I had to head home before my drunken ass started staring at the sexy married men and DILFs at the party. 

Darren’s been kinda rowdy today. He’s usually so quiet. His wife Amber has one of those shrill, loud voices that grates on my nerves, one that makes you figure he was quiet because he couldn’t get a fuckin’ word in edgewise with her. 

I head back to my house as it gets closer to dusk, and I hear footsteps in the brush. It’s Darren, walking my way.

I can’t really focus too well. He’s got his shirt off and I’m trying not to stare, but he looks really good.

“HEY! Chrissss,” he loud-whispers, slurring his words a bit. He walks up to me, getting face to face with me - he’s a half a head taller. 

“Is it true?” he asks.

“Is what true?” 

“Are you gay, dude?” 

“Yeah, what’s it to you, Darren?” I ask defensively. 

He gets a bummed out look on his face. 

“Sorry, Darren,” I say. “I thought you were going to give me a hard time about being gay.” 

He gets a serious look on his face.

“Well, I’d like to give you a hard time.” He backs up, and looks down, and I can see the outline of a huge fuckin’ bulge in his cargo shorts. 

“C’mon in, Darren.”

We get inside, and the latch barely closes behind us when Darren plants his lips on mine. I get a whiff of his chest and sweaty body and I swear, it makes me high. 

He puts my hand on his bulge. I start unzipping those baggy shorts. 

I didn’t have any issues about gay people. Like a lot of people in my generation I could care less. Even for a dumb jock that shit didn’t bother me. And besides, I’d known for years that Uncle Jeff was a gay bachelor living in San Francisco. 

But if it all seemed normal to me, finding out Dad’s gay did throw me for a loop. It was like he was the same stern-but-encouraging father he’d always been, but someone else too. And I guess you never want to think of your parents as sexual beings, but hell they are like anyone else.

Lately, Dad and I had gotten to a comfortable place where we could be open and talk about sex and relationships and life and I was thinking it was probably good this all happened, now that I was off in college. It was all part of growing up. 

Only here I was in Northern California, my Dad and I were using my spring break as an opportunity to fly out west and visit Uncle Jeff. And, well, I don’t know how to describe it but there was the chemistry between my father and my uncle. They’ve always been close but now they were downright affectionate. 

At first I figured that gay dudes just got along well, like chicks, maybe. But a sixth sense told me there was something more: these guys were fucking. I sat there on the outdoor deck having a beer, trying to listen to Jeff tell me a story, but my head was spinning. 

I felt a little guilty for being so impatient. Selfish even. After all, my son had just blown me a few hours ago, as we watched Sunday NFL. I don’t know if it was a kink of his, but he said he loved treating me like the man of the house, king in my castle. Getting me a frosty can of beer, plopping open the tab and putting it in the koozie for me before kneeling down between my spread legs and pulling down my shorts and going to town on my hardening prick.

I made him work for that one, too. We’d gone at it hard and heavy Saturday night and I knew it was gonna take me a while to come, awesome as my son’s mouth felt bobbing up and down on my cock, practically worshipping his old man. When I did ejaculate though, I felt the earth move beneath me. Every time with Daniel was one for the record books.

Around 3:30 he’d begged off to his room for a nap. Around 4:30, sun fading outside in the shorter autumn hours, I was up at his bedroom, one schmuck of a dad looking for seconds. Danny’s BJs had a way of priming my pump.

One view of my son sprawled face down in his bed reminded me why I’d thrown all scruples out the window a year ago. Youthful perfection, finely sculpted muscle, powerful legs, and a porn star ass. I was so absorbed in admiring his bubble butt, massaging the boner that i’d been nursing in my shorts the last half hour, debating whether to disturb my son, that it took me a second to notice he was absorbed in a book.

“Hey Dad,” he said softly, his teen voice become deeper and more manly by the day. “Sorry I meant to come back down but I was reading for my big Lit exam this week. I’d rather be watching football, trust me.”

His eyes widened as he watched me shuck my shorts, letting my fat, steely dad erection free and standing straight up.

“Your daddy’s horny again,” I said, maybe stating the obvious.

I heard a sigh of excitement as Daniel tossed the book aside and reached over to the bedside table, where he flipped the cap open on a large size bottle of lube. Even though we usually fucked in my bed, we’d been known to screw in his childhood bedroom for the excitement of it.

He watched with a lusty leer as I greased up my oversized pole, letting the dripping slick sound of the lubricant fill the silence in the room. And I crawled on the bed, my heavy muscular body, adding to the load of a mattress that probably needed replacing. Another weekend project, I thought.

I wondered if Daniel was gonna roll over onto his back. He always preferred missionary and that’s usually how we did it. Face to face, father to son, able to kiss as we fucked. That was amazing, but sometimes I loved mounting him doggie or just face down. But he stayed prostrate as I crawled my body on top of his, kissing his back and neck, and letting my lube-y cock make a slick trench of the crack of his ass.

“You gonna let me, Danny?” I asked, thrusting my meat in my son’s deep, perfect asscrack. “Gonna let Daddy fuck take you like this?”

“Yeah Dad,” Daniel replied, hiking his muscular buns against my crotch with small but insistent motions. “Sunday’s your day, sir. Man of the house. Your day off, you get what you want.”

“Oh fuck,” I growled. I placed my angry cockhead against his now loosened pucker. I didn’t rush it but it took us only a couple of seconds for us to start fucking. Danny opened up and I entered.

“Fuck me, Dad,” Daniel growled. His voice definitely a full-on man’s now. “Your big dad cock’s gonna fuck me off, sir.”

I was beyond words now. My hips were a flurry of motion, pounding with all my strength into my boy. I knew Daniel liked getting fucked but this was the most receptive he’d been in this position, and I took full advantage, holding nothing back. Just full speed, dad-on-son fucking.

“Christ!” I finally choked in exclamation as my seed shoot good and heavy up deep inside Danny. About five seconds after I fucked the cum out of my 20 year old.

We both lay still for a few minutes after orgasm, and I was concerned my weight was too heavy on top of Daniel. I finally rolled off and my son snaked his upper body over to meet me in a heavy, tongue-forward kiss. It’s funny, with sex I was always top dog, but my son liked to take the lead in kissing, and it was usually me sucking on his flirty, teasing tongue thrust into my mouth.

“That gonna last you to bed time, Dad?” Daniel said, running his fingers through my chest hair.

“Ha, we’ll see,” I laughed. “You’re too good to me Danny.” Then I looked over at the clock. After 5. “What time you gotta go back?”

Daniel’s hand caressed my spent cock, which was still erect amazingly. It was very sensitive but I also relished the feel of his fingers sizing me up and caressing my meat. “I can go back tomorrow morning. I don’t have class till tomorrow night.” I could tell he was weighing something over in his mind, and I thought we were gonna have one of our father-son heart to hearts. You know, talk about what was going on emotionally, or maybe Danny would tell me he wanted to stop what we were doing.

Only my son was weighing something baser in his mind. He pulled up my cock, almost playfully, watching the hardon stand up from my crotch. Then he hoisted himself up and straddled his left leg over my waist. Was he gonna?

Yep. I watched the look of serene satisfaction sweep across his face as he sank back down on my bone, getting his father back inside him. His own young dick rock hard and ready for more.

“You belong in me, Dad,” he said unashamed.

“We make one hell of a team, Sport,” I admitted, relishing the warmth and the spermy wetness of my son’s ass against my dick. My buddies and I had always joked about liking sloppy seconds, but I had to say the sloppiness was a hell of a lot better when you’re the one responsible for it.