I swallowed the last of my eighth drink of the night and contemplated another. It was about 12:30 in the morning and I was dead tired. I decided that I had waited long enough. I paid my tab and decided to walk the four blocks home rather than risk a drunken driving charge. I had been fired--well, "laid off"--about half way through my shift. Business at Lumo's had been falling for months, and when an expensive, trendy restaurant starts losing business, it's a one-way, down-hill street.
Even so, I'd probably still be working if I weren't one of the few waiters who didn't spend their breaks on their knees or bent over a desk in the back office. The owner, Derek King, admitted that his "gaydar" was a bit faulty the day he hired me, but he kept his hands off me and was basically a good boss. I had no doubt that I could get another wait job easily, but finding one that not only paid the kind of tips to which I was accustomed and but also fit my class schedule would be a bit tough. Still, my stint at Lumo's would look good on my resume and King would give me a good reference.
I was living with my dad so that I could go to Loyola on a partial tennis scholarship. My mom and dad divorced when I was thirteen. She quickly married her boss, and we moved way out to Elk Grove. Like my recent boss, my step dad was a decent guy, but he made it clear that, with the alimony and child support from his first marriage, he couldn't help me out with college. To my surprise, my dad stepped in with a little money and a place to stay. We had not been on very good terms for years, but who the hell could blame me? To my even greater surprise, we came to a modus vivendi, and after eight months together now got along pretty well.
I was about 200 feet from the bungalow my dad owned when the front door opened and a guy stepped out onto the porch. He turned and planted a sloppy kiss on the guy behind him. The other guy's hand reached around and squeezed the first guy's ass. I winced. This was what I had hoped to avoid.
The door closed as the first guy turned and walked in my direction. We passed under a street lamp and he gave me a thorough once over. He was about my age and height, with a lean athletic build and sandy hair like my own. I scowled and walked quickly past him and past the house as well. I decided to give it another three minutes before going in so that my dad wouldn't worry about what I might have seen.
My dad got my mom pregnant when he was eighteen and he had to drop out of college to support us. He made a decent living in construction and had a small home renovation business of his own now. My mom always claimed that she left him because he was gay, but I later found out that she had been having an affair with my stepfather for two years before the divorce. My dad only came out afterwards. I don't think she ever knew about his double life before that.
I didn't handle it well at all, though. In fact, I despised him. He tried to be a good father. The time we spent together was awkward, and I did my very best to fuck it up further. Finally, he backed off and we saw each other only rarely. Over the years, my hate turned to pity and finally to simple indifference. When I moved in with him, it was like sharing a house with a stranger. Over the next eight months, that stranger became a friend. It wasn't very awkward either. Ellen, my girlfriend, knew all about him and liked him--to the point where three of us often had dinner together
Dad didn't seem to have a particular man in his life and his friends never came over. Some nights he stayed out late, and sometimes he didn't come home at all. I didn't care. We simply didn't talk about it. I figured that he had guys over on nights that I worked late. There were telltale signs: unwashed glasses, used towels, certain odors. That's why I had stopped in the bar after being canned.
Once a decent interval had passed, I climbed onto the porch and unlocked the door. There was a faint smell of man sweat in the air. I could hear the shower running down the hall and I found the door wide open as I passed. My dad had taken out a guest bedroom to expand the master bedroom and bath. The latter was huge and sumptuously appointed. At the far end was a large shower with multiple heads suitable for at least two and probably even four people. In fact, I had a feeling that it had seen that many a few times since he built it. A tall figure was soaping up behind the etched glass of the door. It turned and noticed me standing in the hall.
"Did you forget something, Jay?" my dad asked as he opened the shower door. "Oh ... Corey ... You're home early."
"Got sacked," I said as I looked him over.
I had not seen my dad unclothed since moving in eight months ago. This wasn't the body I remembered seeing in swimming pool locker rooms as a kid. I knew he was in good shape because he constantly worked out at a local gym, but I was surprised by the superb definition of his body. He wasn't large but his pecks were full and planed, the nipples high and pointed. His abs formed the proverbial washboard and his thighs were heavily muscled. He had never been particularly hairy, but I remembered a light mat of sandy hair and a treasure trail down his abs. Now, however, he was completely hairless below the neck, except for a well trimmed bush at the crotch. Apparently he either shaved or waxed regularly, most likely with help. It made him look young, maybe even younger than me. He must have hit the tanning beds as well, since he had a well defined bikini line.
His cock was even larger than I remembered it, flaccid now but still swollen from the encounter with the guy I passed in the street. It lay on top of a long sack that housed two large balls. I began wondering which one had been on top. An unbidden picture formed in my mind of my dad pounding his love partner over the arm of the living room sofa. Then, just as quickly, it morphed into a bedroom scene with my dad on his back, legs in the air, getting rammed by the other guy. I shook my head involuntarily.
"Bummer," my dad was saying. "I'll finish up here and we'll talk about it." It??? Oh yeah. My work situation.
That was my cue to go down to my room and get out of my waiter's outfit: thin, silky, tailored white shirt and tight black polyester pants that hugged my lean hips, ass and thighs. I didn't pick up on it, though. My father himself could have just closed the shower door, but he didn't do that either. We just stood there looking at one another. Slowly, his cock lengthened and began to rise off his ball sack. I realized then, that my dad was getting off watching me watching him. Funny thing, though, I found myself getting hard as well.
After what seemed like five minutes of silence but was really more like 20 seconds, I took off my watch, slipped my wallet out of my pants and laid them both on the sink vanity. I crossed the length of the bathroom, kicked off my shoes and stepped into the shower fully clothed. My thin shirt was immediately drenched and clung transparently to my torso. With my face only inches away, my father smelled my breath.
"How drunk are you?" he asked.
"Just drunk enough, I think." I took his cock in my right hand. My fingers did not close.
"You'll probably regret this in the morning?"
"I'll probably have a blackout," I answered.
With that, he took my face in his hands and kissed me hungrily on the lips. His tongue plunged deep into my mouth and I reciprocated. I couldn't quite believe the rush it gave me. He unbuttoned my shirt and stripped it away from my body. His mouth explored my neck and torso, biting and sucking with abandon. He latched on to my left nipple and toyed with it. His hands squeezed my ass muscles and pulled my crotch tight against his own. I moaned loudly.
I dropped to my knees, letting my hands follow the contours of his body until they clutched the hard cheeks of his ass. The water now splashed against his chest and ran down his abs eventually streaming over his crotch. I regarded his long fat cock, now only inches from my face. I suddenly realized that it looked just like mine, except that it was cut. My mom had told me that Dad pitched a fit when she suggested I be circumcised like him. He said that he wasn't going to allow any doctor to mutilate me!
Well, for my money, it didn't look mutilated at all. I grabbed the shank and began to lick the head. Water cascaded from his torso over my face, making it hard to breathe. I opened my mouth wide and took the head completely in my mouth. My dad rested his hands on my head, running his fingers through my hair.
His breathing was heavy. "Oh Corey, you're good. Damn good. Better than I imagined." He grabbed a bar of soap and reached behind, lathering up his ass crack. He took my right hand and guided it between his legs. My middle finger found the bud of his hole and massaged it gently. He bowed his legs outward and pushed down on it as I worked it in to the second knuckle. The cock in my mouth underwent a spasm in response. My dad moaned more loudly. I wasn't sure how it should have felt, but it seemed sloppy inside. I guess I had the answer to my question about who had been on top. My finger was now in as far as I could get it.
"More, Corey," he gasped. "I need more, son."
I pulled my finger out and slipped in two. At the same time I opened my gullet and tried to take in all my dad had to give. My girlfriend, Ellen, couldn't do it, but one of the two waitresses at Lumo's gave great head. She told me that she usually charged, but it was privilege to suck a great cock like mine. With its near twin in my mouth, I understood now what she meant. Still, the process was harder than she made it seem. I got the head past the back of my throat and part way down when I began to choke. Panicking, I pulled off and contented myself with working just the head. I turned my hand sideways to force my fingers into his chute as deeply as possible. Dad still squirmed down, so I withdrew and inserted three.
His asshole clamped down tightly on them. "I want you to fuck me, Corey. Right here. Right now!"
First, I stood and pushed him back, out of the stream. Then, I grabbed the soap. I reached around and pushed the narrow end the bar deep into his ass. It was bit old and on the small side. To my surprise it slid all the way in with ease.
"Oh, fuck!" I exclaimed.
He laughed, "I could have taken the guy that just left with that inside me and had plenty of room to spare." He looked down at my big throbbing cock. "No you though, son. Not you." He squatted and pushed, and out popped the soap, just a little brown.
I pushed my father against the wall of the shower and planted my legs slightly apart. He reached under my arm pits, hooked his hands over my shoulders and did a kind of pull up. He scissored my waist with his legs and crossed his ankles behind me. I grasped his buttocks and eased him down on my pole. It burned as the soap got into the piss slit, but I didn't care. It felt too good otherwise.
"I saw the guy that just left," I admitted. "He looked a lot like me."
"For the last few months, they've all looked a lot like you," he acknowledged. He adjusted his position, looked me directly in the eyes and said, "Fuck me hard, Corey. I like it rough."
I didn't need any more encouragement. I pressed his back to the wall and slid my right leg back for support. As I dropped my hips slightly, he raised himself by pulling up with his arms until just the head of my cock remained inside. When I felt his grip lessen, I raised my hips forcefully and he slid down my shaft until his ass slapped my pelvis with a loud thwack. My foot slipped slightly and I adjusted quickly to avoid a serious fall. It was clear that this could not be long, loving coupling. Neither of us wanted that anyway. I slid him into a corner to give us lateral stability. He grabbed one of the bars for support. I moved one hand from his buttock to his cock and started stroking it with a vengeance.
We resumed our action, with Dad making an extra effort on the outstroke to compensate for the loss of my hand under his right butt cheek. He must have done this a lot. I doubted that we could have managed an effective coupling without his expertise. I slammed him as hard as I could. Each thrust hurt me. I could only imagine what he felt as my big dick rammed hard into his asshole. From the sounds he made, I he apparently loved it.
"Fuck me, Corey!" he shouted. "As hard as you can. Make me your cunt! Jam your fat cock deep into me!"
Occasionally, he lost his grip and his nails dug into my back before he regained his purchase. I continued to manipulate his tool with my hand, but it was my cock thrusts that really did the job for him. We weren't at it long. On my ninth or tenth thrust, I felt him burst in my hand, the hot spunk splattering on our bellies. It was too much for me. A huge gusher of cum welled up from my balls. I deposited the first shot of my seed deep in my dad's fuck tube. Somehow, that made me even hotter. I didn't need his help anymore. Grabbing his ass with both hands, I lifted him entirely off my pole and let him drop. More by luck than good aim, he landed dead on and slid suddenly all the way down my shaft. It was all I could do to remain standing. My cock gave him another shot of my stuff when he hit my pelvis.
He screamed in agony. I repeated the maneuver as best I could, but I was getting tired and couldn't quite get him entirely off my pole. After three or four of these large drops, I simply jammed him into the corner of the shower and gave a hard push with each emission. I don't know how many times I spurted into him. It was a lot more than I ever had with a woman and even more than any time since. It was quite simply the fuck of my life, the one against which all others would be compared.
When I was done, I rested with Dad pushed into the shower wall. He let his legs relax. Only my hands and my cock held him off the floor. He kissed me frantically over the face, neck and shoulders. He held my face and gave me a lip lock.
"I knew it would be great, Corey," he gushed. "If it ever happened, I knew it would be great! But Jesus, son, Jesus..."
Something hot and sticky was draining down the inside of my leg. I reached down and scooped up some of the thick fluid. It was not uniformly colored, mostly white, tan in places with streaks of red.
"Oh shit, Dad," I exclaimed. "You're bleeding."
He looked at my hand. "It's alright, Corey. It's happened before. I'll be sore, but I'll be okay. It's more than worth it."
I eased him down to the floor and withdrew from him. He clutched one of the grab bars on the wall and stood shakily. I hosed him down and lathered him up, paying special attention to his crotch and abs. He didn't reciprocate, so I quickly lathered myself; then I toweled us both off. A cum-rich mixture still drained slowly from his ass.
I opened the shower door and stepped into the bathroom. Dad took two stumbling steps behind me. Then he grabbed my shoulder for support.
"I'm still a little woozy, bud," he said sheepishly. "I'm going to need to lean on you to get to my bedroom." He put his left arm around my neck and I supported him with my right arm under his shoulder. Once we got out of the bathroom, I scooped him up behind the knees and carried him like a bride across a threshold. Fit as he was, he was heavier than I anticipated, and I stumbled with him into the bedroom, clumsier even than he was in the shower. I dumped him on the bed and he rolled onto his stomach, legs askew. We both broke into a fit of laughter.
After we settled down, I noticed the fluid draining over his exposed balls. It was now whiter than anything else. I reached down and gently pulled apart his ass cheeks. His rectum was deep red and swollen. There was some light surface blood, but the ooze I saw was mostly cum. I wiped at it with my finger. As I brushed the hole, Dad inhaled sharply. I was about to wipe it on the sheets, when I brought it to my nose. Not finding it too offensive, I licked it off my finger. It tasted mostly like my cum, with a little extra kick--partly Dad and partly the guy who got to him before me. Spreading his buttocks again, I brought my nose close. I flicked my tongue at the angry rosebud and then plunged it in. He was still full of man junk. Within seconds, I found myself rock hard again. Dad moaned as I withdrew and inserted a finger, drawing out some of the gooey mess. I slathered it around the opening.
"I can't, right now, Corey," he warned. "I'm going to need time to heal. A couple of days, probably"
Ignoring him, I positioned my cock head at the orifice and pushed. At that instant, I didn't give a damn if it would hurt him. My cock needed its new found sheath. This time, though, I entered gently. He let out a high keening sound as I did so. When I was fully in, I lay against him. His head was turned to the side and I licked away a tear rolling down his cheek. I followed with a torrent of kisses and nibbles on the back of his neck and shoulders. After a few minutes, I heard him whimpering and saw that tears continued to stream down his face.
"Does it hurt that bad, Dad?" I asked.
"No, son," he replied. "It hardly hurts at all with you lying still like that. It's just the situation. As much as I wanted it to happen, I'm not sure that I know how to handle it." I could understand that. I was more than a little confused myself.
I pushed myself up on my arms and looked down. I followed the muscled back of the figure beneath me, to the sculpted orbs of the ass and my cock buried within it. This was the body that contributed half of what made me, me. I glanced to the right and saw that the closet had double, fully-mirrored bi-fold doors. The bed was positioned in the room so that my dad and his partners could watch themselves in action. The tableau I saw had one lean, muscled figure planting himself in the ass of another. It was hot beyond belief and it looked right. The figure on top belonged there and the one on the bottom looked properly and firmly pinned.
I, Corey, could give this man something that my mother never could. Something he needed and deserved. Probably he never should have married. But then, he would have had to search for it from someone else, someone he might never have found. Suddenly, I felt hugely protective of my father. It was a kind of generational handoff. Whether or not we ever did this again, we would both be forever changed. For the first time, I felt fully a man.
We held that position for about five minutes until I heard him snoring lightly. I then began to press into him repeatedly and ever so gently. Gradually, I built up to longer strokes, though never more than an inch or two. He wriggled beneath me but did not awaken. I watched in the mirror as the base of my shaft became periodically visible. I regarded myself in a new light. I never felt so hot before. What man or woman wouldn't want me? Hell, I wanted myself, and the body beneath me was the closest thing on the planet to my own. I began to cum, not from the friction, but from the things in my head and the scene being played out in the mirror. The cum volume wasn't great. How could it be, after the shower fuck? But the orgasm was intense and prolonged. I kept it up until my balls ached, then rolled my dad to the side and fell asleep with my cock still within him.
I awoke first in the morning. I had slid out of course, but I still had my usual morning hardon. I looked at the man lying next to me and considered various ways of eliminating the erection. Rejecting them all, I eased myself quietly out of bed, hit the bathroom and went down to my own bedroom. I put on a pair of boxers and lay in my bed thinking. About 45 minutes later I heard my father rustling in his room. I got up and stumbled toward the bathroom as if arising myself.
My father stood naked in the hallway, head cocked to the side. "Good morning, son," he said tentatively. "How are you feeling?"
"Hung over," I lied. "I was laid off last night and wound up getting plastered. I'm not even sure how I got home."
"Yeah,I know," he said, dejected at my apparent memory lapse. "You told me last night."
"Oh, man," I said. "How bad was I? Did you have to put me to bed?"
"In a manner of speaking," he answered.
"What's that supposed to mean?" I countered.
"It's a long story," he said. "And you really don't want to hear it. I'll get you some Motrin."
He turned and headed down the hall toward the bathroom. The sight of that beautiful ass rippling with each step was exhilarating. I couldn't keep up the pose. I walked quickly behind him, catching up within a few steps. When he felt my presence close behind, he spun around. We stared at each other for a few seconds. Then I put my hand out and ran it lightly it over his shaved chest. I pinched his left nipple.
"You know," I said, "if we re-enact last night in all its detail, it might just jog my memory."
He smiled and put his hand on my shoulders, pushing me down to my knees. "Well, Corey," he said. "It started like this..."