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When And Why I Started Sucking Dad

By orangebinder

submitted December 20, 2005

Categories: Family Fun

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When I was 12 my mother became ill and took to her bed. She stayed there until she died eleven years later. My father became her chief caretaker and I was his assistant. He was attentive and devoted until she died. After high school I chose a college in town so that I could stay at home and help Dad. The only thing I missed about going away to college was the freedom and privacy that comes with distance. I had known forever that I was gay and I was certainly sexually active but living at home did limit my options. It would have been nice to have a dorm room or apartment to take a guy for some horizontal sex.

My freshman year went by quickly. I met lots of new friends and various bathrooms around campus offered an inexhaustible supply of horny young men with hard bodies. I even made an A+ in freshman English by making my mouth and asshole available on a regular basis to the terminally dorky, but not unattractive, graduate teaching assistant.

Near the end of my freshman year, I invited a friend of mine over to the house to study for an upcoming final. Stan and I hit if off together and had studied together before but I had no expectations beyond that. Something was different that night. We were in my bedroom studying with the door closed when his eye caught mine with a look I hadn’t seen from him before. Before I really knew what was happening, our mouths met and our tongues were intertwined. His hands were groping my crotch and mine went down the back of his pants (I’ve always been a butt man). In seconds we were both naked and on the floor. We were on our sides sucking each other with total abandon. Hard 18 year old dicks pumping in and out of tight 18 year old mouths. Lust filled 18 year old hips pounding away and 18 year old lungs heaving to catch a breath between mouthfuls of hard dick and the all-consuming lust of the rut.

Then, the unthinkable happened. Dad walked in. He knocked on the door as he opened it. His face was a mixture of shock and embarrassment when he saw us. He backed out and closed the door as quickly as he had come in without saying a word. Stan bounded to his feet, his cock instantly deflated. He threw on just enough clothes to be decent, grabbed the rest along with his books and fled. I don’t know if he ran into Dad in his flight from my room to the front door. I heard the front door open and close and then I heard his car.

It was only then I looked down and realized my dick hadn’t gone soft but was the hardest and most swollen I had ever seen it. The protruding veins that ran down the sides of the shaft were visibly throbbing. My dickhead was bloated and huge and had turned an angry color of red. My piss slit was a gaping hole. I wrapped my fingers around my larger than normal cock and felt its girth. I was so turned on by the thought of Dad seeing me with a hardon having sex. It only took a couple of strokes and I shot my wad. It came boiling up from my gut and exploded outward with a force that would have been painful if it hadn’t felt so good. It was the biggest orgasm I had ever had. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t touch my dick. I had shot off into the bathroom sink. I scooped up a couple of fingers of the sticky jism and ate it. I sucked my fingers clean. After a few minutes I splashed some water on my face and my breathing began to approach normal.

I took a quick shower and went to bed. Every time I thought of Dad seeing Stan and me going at it I’d start getting a hardon all over again. The scene of him opening the door and the expression on his face kept playing over and over again in my mind. I laid there in bed fantasizing about what would have happened if Dad had come on in and joined Stan and me rather than leaving. My fantasy was just getting good when I heard another knock on my bedroom door and Dad’s voice asking if he could come in. If he only knew what he was interrupting! I pulled a sheet over my naked body and told him to come in. Dad was wearing a bathrobe. “David, I wanted to apologize for barging in on you earlier. It was wrong of me.” I accepted his apology and mentioned that I probably didn’t need to tell him that I was gay. He sort of smiled and said that my sexual orientation had been made pretty clear. Here we had our father-son discussion about being gay. Everything went as well as any 18 year old queer could hope for. At the end of it, Dad leaned over and gave me a hug. He turned to leave and the, as if debating whether or not to say something else, turned back to me and said, “You know, I’m a bit jealous of you. The freedom you have at this stage of your life to do what you want, go wherever you want, and have sex with whomever whenever you want.”

“I hardly have sex with whomever I want, Dad.”

“You know what I mean. I would be willing to bet that you have sex on a regular basis. I, on the other hand, can barely remember what sex is like or how to do it.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. My father was discussing his sex life with me. “But, . . . what about Mom?” I asked.

“We haven’t made love since she got sick. Nothing--six years and two months and counting--nothing.”

“Nobody? Not once in that period?”

“No, I cant’ just ignore my wedding vows and make love to another woman because I get horny. That would be adultery.”

“I’m not suggesting that you get a mistress or have an affair. What you need is a sex partner, a fuck buddy.”

“Even if I wanted to, I wouldn’t know where to find such a woman and I’m not about to hire a hooker.”

“Who said it had to be a woman?”

“What do you mean?” Dad asked.

“Women aren’t the only ones who can satisfy your needs.”

“Are you suggesting that I make love to a man? I’m not gay.”

“No, I’m not suggesting you make love to anyone. What you need is someone who can provide a sexual service, someone who can relieve years of accumulated sexual tension. I’m not talking love, I’m talking sex. For starters, it should be someone who is a good cocksucker.”

Dad took a step back, befuddled. “What are you saying?”

“Have a seat and relax, Dad.” I pointed to an old easy chair in front of my TV. He looked at me like he didn’t know what to do. “Trust me, Dad. Sit down and relax.” He sat down in the chair rather stiffly. I wrapped the sheet around me like a toga and got out of bed. I rummaged through my closet until I found an old knit ski cap. I put the cap on Dad’s head and pulled it down to cover his eyes so he couldn’t see.

“Trust me,” I said. “This won’t hurt in the least. I’ll bet you’ll thank me for it afterwards. If you want me to stop at any point, just say so.” Not being able to see anything, he seemed to relax a bit.

I knelt down in front of the chair, pulled his knees apart and moved in close. I opened the front of his bathrobe, he had on white briefs. I couldn’t believe I was doing this but right there in front of me was my dad’s crotch. Waiting for me. I could see the outline of his dick and the mound of his balls. I was going to have them. My cock was rigid under my toga. I touched the waistband of his briefs and he flinched. He was wound tighter than a three-day clock. “Relax, Dad, I won’t bite. I really won’t.” I’d better getting going before he changed his mind. I quickly but gently pulled his waistband down exposing his crotch. His cock was starting to thicken just a bit – probably more from nerves than from sexual excitement. His balls were nestled in a halo of thick dark brown hair.

I didn’t waste any time. Holding his balls gently in one hand, I leaned forward and took all of his cock in my mouth. My nose was pressed against the warmth of his stomach. Dad reacted with a sharp intake of breath but didn’t say anything. He rapidly grew in my mouth getting longer, thicker, and harder. In only a few seconds he was fully erect and stiff as a board.

I flicked my tongue across his sensitive dickhead and I drilled the tip of my tongue into his piss hole. I bobbed up and down sliding the entire length of his shaft through a tight “O” formed by my lips. I relaxed my throat and took him deep, to the root. I held his hard dick tight letting my mouth and throat muscles work on his entire cock from stem to stern. As would be expected of anyone who hadn’t had sex in over six years, it didn’t take him long to shoot. He started to moan faster and louder and more urgently. He froze stiff for a couple of seconds, every muscle rigid. Then my mouth was suddenly full to overflowing with his thick warm salty cream. I came in waves, his body jerking with each shot. He sounded like he was in pain but I knew he wasn’t. I swallowed load after load until there was no more. I licked and sucked him clean then let him slip from my mouth. I tucked his cock and balls back into his underwear and pulled his bathrobe together. I stood up and went back to my bed.

He sat there in the dark for a few seconds in silence and then he stood up. He pulled the ski cap off his head and uncovered his eyes. He walked straight out the door. A second or two later, he reappeared in my doorway and very quietly said, “Thanks, son . . . I didn’t know that was possible.” He didn’t wait for a response but turned and left for the night. He took the ski cap with him.

Needless to say, I was stiff as a board. The idea of sucking Dad’s hard cock, holding his balls in my hands, and swallowing load after load of his cum was incredible. It didn’t take me long to drain my balls of another load. I rolled over and went right to sleep.

The next morning Dad didn’t say anything except that he hadn’t slept so well in years. He also couldn’t stop smiling. That night, while I was reading in bed, I heard a knock on my bedroom door. It was Dad ... in a bathrobe ... holding a ski cap. “I saw your light was still on. Thought I’d say goodnight.” I looked up and smiled. “Have a seat, Dad. Let’s see what I can do for you.” It was a replay of the previous night except this time Dad didn’t have on any underwear and he was already starting to get hard.

For the next several weeks, the scene was repeated nearly every night. It tapered off a bit and eventually stabilized at 2 to 3 times per week. He would always show up at my door in his bathrobe carrying the ski cap. He eventually stopped covering his eyes and then stopped even putting on the cap. But he always carried it. I eventually quit bothering covering myself and he didn’t seem to mind my nakedness or my frequent hard dick pointing out in front of me. But, he never touched my dick or saw me cum. He would occasionally put his hands on my head or shoulders while I sucked him, particularly when I sucked on his balls, which he really loved. I would sometimes put my arms around his waist and sometimes my hands ended up on his butt cheeks but otherwise we never ventured beyond what we did the first night.

After Mom died Dad surprised me by continued to come to me at night even though he was no longer bound by marital vows and was free to be with a woman. It continued even after he started dating and after I moved away from home, although less often. Two months ago, Dad got remarried. Her name is Eileen and she seems like a very nice person. I was in town for the first time since the wedding and stopped by for a few days. On the first night, right after going to bed in my old room, I heard a soft knock on the door. It was Dad in his old ratty bathrobe holding a ski cap. “I saw your light on and thought I’d say goodnight.” I smiled and threw back the sheet that covered me. He left about an hour ago with a smile on his face and a spring in his step.


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