Gay Erotic Stories

My dad was built like a brick shithouse. He wasn’t all that tall, just under 6 feet, but he was 280 pounds of solid muscle and covered from neck to toes with thick wiry black hair. His chest was a tangle of undergrowth. His pubes were a thick nest for his dick and balls and spread out to merge seamlessly with the rest of his fur. He worked hard as a welder and took a shower as soon as he got home. Because it was just the two of us at home, I started doing the laundry when I was pretty young. I discovered that his underwear smelled glorious right after he stripped. The earthy ripe smell that caused my groin to lurch in ways that initially frightened me but which I quickly came to savor. I discovered that the part that cupped his big hairy balls and the part that covered his ass smelled slightly different but both were glorious. Other parts of his underwear and other clothes just smelled of sweat, which had its own attraction, but it was the parts that covered his balls and butt that caused an instant erection for me. While his sweat was warm and masculine, his crotch and taint sweat had an extra ingredient that sent excitement up and down my spine. I would often find a special prize of a pubic hair or a butt hair in the shorts. I would take his clothes as soon as he undressed, go to my bedroom and press his underwear against my nose as I jacked off. I would breathe deeply into the infused fabric like an asthmatic having an attack. He had a girlfriend, Debby was her name, and I assume they fucked but they clearly had no plans of getting married or even moving in together. She was a convenient beard and they both enjoyed each other’s company. He had his poker night at Tom’s and I began wondering if their “friendship” was more than meets the eye but never found anything definite. So, Dad was this super macho, brick shithouse, bear. He was also a bottom. I started fucking him when I was eighteen and continued for years. He loved a long, hard, rough fuck that tore his asshole apart but what caused him to absolutely melt with pleasure was when I rimmed him. He was putty in my hands when my tongue touched his hole. He would beg me to fuck him but at the same time he loved the anticipation. I would rub my hard dick against his hole and his butt and hips would dance with excitement. More than once, I got him to cum just from the foreplay. I usually slept in his bed and we had sex three or four nights a week and sometimes in the morning before work as well. Weekend mornings were devoted to sex. Even though we were both early risers, we never got out of bed on Saturday or Sunday before 10am. When we did get up, it was often just so we could pee or have sex in the shower. I must have taken after my mother. I never knew her and I don’t think I ever saw a photo but I was physically very different from Dad. While he was stocky, muscular, super hairy, I was taller, thinner, and much smoother. At first I thought I just hadn’t grown into my adult body like Dad but it never happened. I was always a hundred pounds lighter, four inches taller, and nearly hairless by comparison. While he was a living carpet, I had a patch of light fuzz between my nipples and a small bush with well-defined edges. My ass, ball sac, stomach, arms, and legs were completely smooth. Even the smallest Speedo completely covered my pubes. My hair was light brown while Dad had black wiry hair. After a while, just didn’t seem to be any reason to leave home. I didn’t really want to go anywhere and, even though we never discussed it, Dad didn’t seem to want me to leave. Instead, we just continued our routine. We informally divided the household duties. I did the shopping and cooking, when we didn’t have take-out, and I did the laundry. We had a housekeeper who came in every two weeks to do basic cleaning. We didn’t dust or run the vacuum; that had to wait for the housekeeper. Dad took care of all of the house repairs and exterior – he cut the grass and any outside work, as well as any automotive work. In many ways we led very different lives. He had his friends, I had mine. He had his job, I had mine. He had his girlfriend, I had an on-again, off-again boyfriend. We had our own activities and went our separate ways most of the time. But, when night came, more often than not, we shared a bed. And, we were never in the same bed when we didn’t have sex. If we couldn’t or wouldn’t have sex on a particular night, I stayed in my room and Dad didn’t expect me to join him in bed. We didn’t have a romance, at least not consciously. We weren’t lovers or partners. We were more fuck buddies who just happened to live together and be related to each other. At the same time, I loved him and he loved me (although we never ever said “I love you”) but we didn’t make a big deal of it. We were both into hot man sex and there was nothing to discuss – just fuck. Once or twice when Dad was super horny, I got him to have sex after work before he took a shower. But usually, he couldn’t wait to get clean and he never really understood how turned on I got by his scent. I would sometimes get second best when he mowed the grass on a hot Saturday afternoon in the summer. I would grab him, rip off his jeans cut-offs and underwear, bury my face in his crotch inhaling deeply, turn him around and rim his sweaty butt crack and hole. Then fuck the shit out of him right there in the kitchen. He loved it. I loved it. We were happy.

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