Dad Started It

A story told through the mind of a young man...

*

It's been about fifteen minutes since I heard the car pull into the driveway. He waited out in the car for a minute, and then I heard the car door open and then close. Then came the faint footsteps along the path in front of the house and up the steps.

He's trying to be quiet, probably for two reasons. One is that he's a considerate man by nature, and since it's late he doesn't want to disturb anyone in the neighborhood. I suspect the second reason is that maybe he's hoping I'm asleep, but there's no way that would happen.

I've been waiting for him, and it's only a little past ten. I would have been awake if he stayed out until 3. He's worth waiting for. I don't know where he goes all evening or what he does. He might have a drink or two at a bar, but he's not much of a drinker. Maybe he just drives around thinking. Maybe we're both thinking the same thing.

It wasn't always like this. Before a couple of weeks ago we were just a couple of guys sharing a home that used to house four. That was then, when my older sister still lived here and Mom was still alive. Now there's just two, a hard working man who just turned fifty and a nerdy college student closer to 19 than 18. The man is my father, and I am his son. We love each other very much, but in different ways now.

It happened, and out of the blue. He's been apologizing for it ever since, but I keep telling him that there's no apology necessary. I was scared that first night while it was happening, and I cried a little, but more because I was confused and had been roused out of a sound sleep.

That time it was Dad coming into my room. It was the only time. Ever since then I've been the one coming to visit him, and tonight will be no different. Just like the last dozen nights he will protest at first, but I think that's more from guilt than anything else. If he didn't want me to come in, there's a lock on the door. It's never been used.

The house is deathly quiet, with only the ticking of the grandfather clock down at the end of the hall breaking the silence. I'm as quiet as a cat. I step lightly because I'm barefoot. I'm also naked. Clothes would only get in the way once I get there. Hopeful Dad will be naked one of these nights too. I've suggested it, but every night he's had his boxer shorts on.

I'm standing at the door and reaching for the knob, turning it ever-so-slowly. What would I do if it was locked? I honestly don't know, and can only hope the knob will turn. It does. I open the door slowly, and my shadow appears on the wall next to the bed. I close the door behind me - it opens and closes silently now since I oiled the hinges - and I stand inside my parents bedroom while my eyes adjust to the near-darkness.

I can see Dad's shape under the sheet, his massive frame taking up most of the mattress. Lucky Mom was a tiny woman, because even in the massive king-size bed there isn't much room when there's a guy that's about 6'5" and over 250 pounds in it.

Dad was a football player, and a good one in his day. He was a all-conference offensive tackle in college and got invited to an NFL training camp at a free agent. Made the taxi squad one year and was hoping to make the team the following year but he blew out his knee. After that he decided to get a steady job and raise a family with his new bride.

I tiptoe over to the side of the bed, watching the sheet rise and fall along with Dad's breathing. He's not exactly pretending he's asleep, but when I whisper, "Dad?" he doesn't answer. I reach for the sheet and gently lift it up and down to his thighs but hesitate before climbing into the bed.

What an incredible looking man, I think to myself, and even in the murky light I can see him well enough that my dick is getting hard already. He's got the boxer shorts on, like I suspected, but he's naked to the waist.

Dad might have put a few pounds on since college, but he's still in great shape, probably because while he owns his own construction company he works along with his employees a lot of the time. Those massive shoulders are the result of hard work, and looking at this giant of a man I remember growing up wanting to be just like Dad.

That didn't happen, obviously, and while I'm not as little as Mom was, at 5'7" and 135 pounds I clearly ended up more like her. This allows me to slip into bed alongside Dad easily, and I leave the sheet down as I roll onto my side to face Dad, close enough so I can feel the heat from his body.

"Dad?" I whisper as my hand moves up to his chest, and as my fingers sink into the silver and black mat of fur I hear him sigh.

"Brian," he whispers as my hand moves through the crinkly pelt. "Please."

"It's okay Dad," I whisper back as my fingers find his nipple, and I can feel it get hard as I play with it.

"We can't keep doing this," Dad whispers again, but when I lean down and kiss his nipple he lets out a sigh, I think it's a sigh of resignation because he knows I'm not going to stop.

The tip of my erect dick is poking him in the hip as I suck on his nipple while stroking his other nipple with my fingers. I'd only been with a few guys before Dad, but I've found that I'm pretty good at figuring out what guys like. I've learned what Dad likes - what serves as this Superman's Kryptonite - and this is one of those things.

I suck on Dad's plump left nipple while tweaking and teasing the right one with my fingers. I've learned that I can't be too rough with Dad, or should I say I can't be rough enough for him. What I'm doing to his nipples would have me screaming in pain if it was me on the receiving end, but that's another difference between us.

Dad's breathing heavier now, and for the first time he moves. He's working his left arm out from his side, brushing against my dick as he does, and the incidental and accidental contact makes me shiver. His hand works out around me and he's now rubbing my neck as I nibble his nipple.

I know what he wants next, and it happens to be something I enjoy too, even though it was all new to me when Dad introduced it to me. I think it was something that Mom might have done to him a lot, and picturing that going on between them is erotic to me.

Dad brought his hand up and placed in under my neck. This makes his bicep bulge even more, which is a turn-on by itself, but the raising of his muscular limb also involves exposing his armpit to me, and as I look over that the thick bush of hair that fills the cavity I feel the heat that emanates from the thicket as well as the manly scent.

The aroma gets stronger as I take my mouth from his chest and kiss my way over to his underarm. It's like an aphrodisiac to me as his pheromones filled my nostrils. Mixed with a lingering soap scent from the morning shower along with a faint residue from deodorant applied long ago, I find the scent intoxicating as I begin kiss the slightly damp tuft of hair.

I hear Dad groan as I start to lick and nibble under his arm, and when that turns into licking and chewing this only makes Dad groan louder. All of this excites me greatly, and one time last week I even came doing it, having been rubbing my dick into his hip all the while without realizing it.

"Oh Brian," I hear Dad whisper as he writhes around a little into the bedding under my now feral attack, and while I hold onto his prominent bicep and squeeze what I can of it with one hand I let the other hand slide down his body.

From outside his boxers, my hand finds his cock, not that one could possibly miss it. Even in its current semi-erect state, that massive organ is almost poking out from the right leg opening of his boxers where it is pinned, and as I stroke his manhood through the fabric I begin to bid farewell to the furry crater my face had been buried in.

I get up to my knees at Dad's hip and unsnap the top of his boxers, and I whisk them down as Dad lifts his bottom up. As the elastic passes the tip of his cock I watch as the huge cock slowly rises before falling back onto his stomach, and after I pull the boxers off his ankles I go up to the source of my creation.

I didn't see my father's penis before it was, let me say, "introduced" to me that night two weeks ago. If I had seen it in my confused state that night, I don't know what I would have done. I had only experienced one man before in that manner, and while his equipment was fine it bore no relation to what Dad was blessed with.

Think of a Ron Jeremy, only a little bigger and without the belly above it. Dad's cock is huge, and I would have given anything to have been able to watch Dad sticking that massive monolith into Mom's tiny body. It probably looked a lot like what he looks like with me.

I knee-walk up to Dad's hip and lift his nearly erect manhood upright, my two hands covering little more than half the shaft while my fingers barely meet around it as I bow my head and let my mouth take in the mushroom head.

My mouth, like the other orifice of mine dad uses, is getting accustomed to his size, and my teeth never make contact as my lips slide down the thick shaft until the tip of his mighty organ hits my throat, at which point my lips slide back up to the tip.

Below, the aroma of his balls hits me, and for whatever reason the musky funk makes me even crazier. I duck down to lick the salty hairy pouch put quickly return to giving him head. Dad gets hard fast, and like most nights, and when he's had enough of my mouth he eases my face up.

It's his call as to how he takes me, and he's had me in four different positions. That first night was with me face down flat on the bedding, and most of the other times he's put me on all fours, but he also took me once with us lying on our hips. That was really good but my favorite position was one Dad said he couldn't do again.

He had my lay on my back facing him with a pillow under the small of my back, and I couldn't believe how deep he got into me like that. He said that it bothered him to look at my face while he pounded into me, and I think the fact that I was crying also got to him.

They weren't tears of pain - well, maybe a little - but mostly they were tears of joy. Getting to watch him slamming his cock deep into my bowels while his face got redder and redder, his sweat raining down on me like a storm, that was heaven.

Dad puts me on all fours, and I present my ass for him, high and open as wide as possible. I'm already lubed up, having spent a lot of time priming myself before he got home, and although the entrance is still a bit of a struggle, once the head of him member pops in, it's easy from there.

Dad rides me in many ways, some nights hard and fast, and other times gently, at least at first, but in the end he's pounding into like a jackhammer while grunting like a bear, and after he fills my bowels with his seed he stays connected with me, hugging me with the chest rubbing my back until his cock slithers out.

It's then that we ease down to the bedding together, with him spooning into me. After a few minutes I feel his hand sliding over my hip and down. By then the anticipation as gotten me hard, and as his meaty hand grabs my cock and his fingers wrap around it, I have to struggle not to cum.

Only the head of my dick is sticking out from his grip, and then his thumb starts rubbing the tip of my organ. This makes me cum right away, but after I ejaculate Dad doesn't let go. He continues to hold my withered dick and then starts to pull on it, stretching it out as far as he can while nuzzling into my neck.

After a while I start to get hard again, and it's then that he rolls me over onto my back and kneels next to me. I cum too fast. I can't help it, and it doesn't matter whether it's his hand or his mouth. My semi-erect dick gets swallowed, with Dad's lips around the base, and his mouth doesn't move. He just sucks - siphons - while his hand squeezes my balls, and then I cry out, "Daddy!" as I cum hard.

I go soft once more and then he rolls up next to me, wrapping his arms around me and he's just like a teddy bear, so comforting that I usually fall asleep. In the morning I'm always in my own bed, and it's Dad that brings me in there during the night, effortlessly carrying me into bed and tucking me in like he did when I was young.

In the morning as we get ready for work and school, Dad has trouble looking me in the eye, but not to the extent he did at first, and when we head our separate ways dad tells me he'll probably be late.

"I'll be waiting," I assure him, and he nods.

"I know," he says with a sigh. "I know."

****

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