Gay Erotic Stories

There are a couple of things you need to know about my dad. The first is that he likes to drink. No, I should saw he liked to get drunk, he liked to get dumb ass fucking wasted drunk. He does it quite often. He isn't one of these drunks who just like to get a good buzz going, no, he drinks in order to pass out. His usual practice on a drunken night is to start as soon as he gets home. He starts with vodka mixed with equal parts of juice and then works from there to straight vodka from the bottle. It doesn't usually long before he passes out cold for the night. Once he is out, nothing rouses him until morning. Somehow, he gets up in the morning and goes to work. He does this once or twice a week but not in any discernible pattern. I never know what night will be a drunken night until I see him start drinking. The next thing you need to know about him was that he can be an SOB, a real shithead. I don't particularly like him; in fact I really don't like to be around him. Not because of the drinking. Actually, I rather prefer him when he's drunk, no yelling, no spitting, no insults, and no dirty looks. He is a quiet drunk. The worst part is just before he passes out. It's then that he's loudest, meanest, and nastiest.

The third thing you need to know about dad is that he is still young enough that his drinking hasn't completely ruined his body. He is quite good-looking, even handsome. He's teetering on the brink of going to seed. You can see the starting signs but it hasn't overtaken him yet. The sagging, the puffiness are just around the corner but not quite here yet. I have been turned on by him for as long as I can remember. I can't remember not being turned by the sight of him, particularly walking around the house in his underwear or the occasional peak at him naked. I kept an eye out for those rare opportunities and savored them when they happened. Once I started jacking off I'd think of him and fantasize about his body.

One night about six months ago, he started drinking as soon as he got home from work. By 7:00 he staggered to his bedroom and passed out sprawled across the bed. He caught my eye as I passed his room. He had fallen face down onto the bed and must have slid forward because his boxers were half pulled down on one side exposing the top half of his left cheek. I went in his bedroom, walked over to his bed and stood beside him. The waistband of his boxers cut a diagonal line across the roundest part of his cheek. The elastic was pulled tight and pressed into his flesh. At the top I could see just the first inch or two of his butt crack, then the fullness of his cheek and farther down nearly his entire left hip was exposed. I reached out and lightly traced my finger on his flesh along side the line of his boxers starting at the bottom left and going up. My finger ran along his flesh, touching his butt, feeling his skin. I ran my finger across his exposed cheek to the top of his butt crack, his cleavage. It was warm. I felt around the top of his crack, it was warmer than his cheek. I felt a little farther down his crack, farther still reaching under his boxer as far as my finger could reach. The crack got deeper and wider. It was inviting. He didn't stir. Then it dawned on me that this was an opportunity I had been waiting for. I practically tore off my clothes. I didn't know exactly what I was going to do but I started to thicken and lengthen. I placed both hands on the back of my father's thighs and massaged them. They were thick and strong. His body and the bed rocked slightly with the motion. I pushed father up his thighs until my fingers disappeared under his boxers, just my finger tips, then my whole fingers, then my whole hands. I was exploring virgin territory, at least for me. Farther still until I my finger tips felt the beginning of his cheeks. I knelt down so that I could reach farther. I held a cheek in each hand and massaged them, not for his pleasure but for mine. They were round and firm and soft. I leaned forward and laid my face against his butt. My nose and mouth rested against the fabric of his boxers in the channel formed between his cheeks. I inhaled and I smelled the intoxicating scent of a man. I breathed in deeply and then again. I pressed my face hard against his fabric-covered butt as my hands caressed his ass. I felt his flesh in my hands and inhaled his scent. I slowly eased his boxers off. I stood back, nearly overcome by the sight. What I had fantasized about for years, what I had thought about when I sucked off the old men at the mall bathroom, what I dreamed would happen one day. There he was. My father stark strip naked laying before me ready for me to do anything I wanted, if not willingly at least he wasn't going to complain. His butt was gorgeous but first I had to roll him over and see his cock and ball up close and personal.

I lifted his right side and heaved him over. He flopped over heavily. My god! There it was! There THEY WERE! His cock! His balls! I leaned over and kissed the head of his dick. He was cut, just like me. It was soft and warm. I buried my face in his crotch pressing tightly against him. I took his entire dick in my mouth and sucked. Down to the root. His springy pubic hair pressed against my eyes. I sucked like a starving baby at a teat, like a two-dollar whore, like a kid with an all-day sucker. First his soft cock and then his big lemon sized hairy balls. I sucked them until they were red and slippery with spit. I started working my way up his body, kissing his short hairs, his belly, his chest, his neck, his chin, and then his lips. I even French kissed him. His lips parted and accepted my tongue although he was out like a light. I lay beside him and rolled him onto his side. My arms were wrapped around his shoulders and my legs were wrapped around his hips. My tongue was down his throat and I fantasized that we were making out – that he was kissing me back. I licked his face and got a whisker burn from rubbing his face against mine. Before I knew what was happening, I shot off all over his belly. It felt so good I thought my innards were erupting. I was spent and drained. I cleaned him up, got his boxers back on him and left him in his bed to sleep off his drunk. The next morning he didn't say or do anything out of the ordinary. I don't think he suspected anything. I was bone hard for three days until he got drunk again. When he did, I hardly let him pass out before I was on him. This time I got more adventurous. I ate his ass big time. I bet I was the first to get my lips and tongue on his cherry butt. I worked him over good and he was opened up and relaxed like nobody's business. I debated whether or not to fuck him but my dick did my thinking for me and I went for it. He was so relaxed, I slid right in.

The thought of fucking my dad's cherry ass was such a turn on, I bet I didn't get more than half a dozen good strokes in before I shot off. It was one of those gut wrenching cums that seem to last forever. When I was done shooting, I stayed in him until I was soft and then slid out in one gush. I managed to suck out most of my cum from his butt. I swished the warm mixture of jism and butt juice around in my mouth before swallowing it. I cleaned him up and let him sleep it off. The next morning, he did have an odd expression on his face, like he had something on his mind or he couldn't figure out something. The nights he didn't drink were hell for me. I started to drink on those nights. If he didn't start drinking heavily by 7:00, he wasn't going to drink at all. Then I would start. If he did start drinking, I didn't have any. This pattern went on for a couple of months; I bet I fucked him at least twice a week during that period. Each time was wonderful. I was getting used to the routine. Then he went a week straight without drinking. I would occasionally catch him looking at me with a strange look in his eye. Finally, the next Friday evening he got drunk and I fucked him again, long and hard. He never got drunk two nights in a row so on Saturday night I didn't even wait to see what he would do.

I started drinking and by 6:00 was pretty well wasted. Somehow I managed to stumble to my room and fall onto my bed. The next morning I made the oddest discovery. I woke up sprawled on my bed with a fucking hangover. I felt like shit. I ached all over. I was also completely naked but I didn't remember undressing and I usually don't sleep nude. I walked to the bathroom and took a piss. As I stood there naked, my butt felt odd, different, and sort of achy. I reached back and felt slime. I sat down on the toilet and shit. All that came out was a wad of snot. It was cum. I had been fucked. I couldn't believe it. It had to be my dad, he had figured out what I was doing and now he had done it to me. I managed to get dressed. Dad didn't act any different so I didn't. Now we follow a certain routine. Its been going on for the better part of a year now. Whoever gets drunk will be fucked that night. We never discussed it; we have never said a word about it. Our day-to-day life is exactly the same as it was except that Dad no longer bitches when I drink his liquor.