The story I'm about to tell you is true. And knowing that you're reading this as spanking material kinda takes away from the impact the events had on my life. But I'm glad for any open ears that want to listen, for this isn't a story that you'd tell your friends or family. At least, not this uncensored version.
First of all, let me take the wind out of the sails right at the beginning. My biological father is dead. I never knew him. When I speak of my 'dad', I neither refer to him nor to my mom's current husband, Dave, who - frankly - has a bit of an uncle vibe to me. Probably because he showed up in my life during my teens and hasn't been with me through childhood. My *dad* however, is Steven.
My mom met and married him when I was about 4 or 5. I remember how she was stressed all the time when I was really small. She didn't lack for money, my father's inheritance had made sure of that, but carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders as a single mom to me and my then 8 year old brother Harry wasn't easy on her. Even I could tell and I was only a young kid at the time.
When Steven showed up, things changed drastically. Mom smiled more, she was relaxed and Steven took us on all kinds of exciting adventures - from theme parks to water rides, movies, hiking, you name it. Most of my fondest childhood memories are with him.
At age 10 (my age, I mean), my world broke to pieces. My parents divorced. I wasn't aware of the reason at the time, but I was left heart-broken, after mom took me and Harry to live with her. Steven never adopted us, so technically, after the divorce, we were literal strangers to each other and I feared I'd never see my favorite person in the world again.
But Steven surprised me. He kept in touch through letters and visits. He invited me and my brother on weekends away. Heck, we even went all the way to New York just to watch a show on Broadway.
I was more than impressed, knowing that the man had no obligations towards us. It felt like we were able to keep him in our lives as 'dad who doesn't live with us'.
I was 15 when I learned why mom and Steven divorced. He was gay.
He was a bit younger than mom and he thought marrying and having a family would give him the determination needed to lead a heteronormative life. Something that apparently his parents desperately wished for him. At 36, however, he gave up on that dream and told mom about it. They divorced.
Mind you, I have no idea if dad cheated on my mom with a guy or if it was all a theoretical scenario in his head that he wanted to have the freedom to try out, but after he left us, he never spoke to me or my brother about his relationships after mom. For a time, we figured he was happy to be single. But when I turned 15, I began to wonder.
Dad didn't have Facebook, but mom did and it was an odd coincidence that led me to discover a bit of dad's personal life that he kept hidden away from us. Mom had friended a guy named Barry on her account. I just knew that because the notification popped up on my own account. I usually didn't care at all about what mom did on Facebook (it was boring stuff most of the time anyway), but the icon for this Barry guy's profile was....dayum. A dreamy headshot that led to an even dreamier body when I opened Barry's profile.
And right there smack in the middle of my screen was a photo of Barry and my dad, their arms around each other's waists, both wearing suits and about to enter a theatre, their upper bodies casually turned to smile for a quick selfie.
I was floored. My dad was in a relationship with a guy. And such a handsome one at that. My 15 year old self was drooling just imagining what went on behind the scenes with these two. Of course, I wasn't surprised that dad had such an attractive partner. My dad was genetically gifted. His face was so handsome it bordered on pretty, with huge blue eyes, thick, expressive eyebrows and a mouth that was subtly smiling all the time. He kept his hair long enough so it fell in waves across his forehead, the jet black color almost appearing metallic blue in photos.
Anyway, my point is, I was jealous. I hadn't realized it before, but I always took for granted that my dad was mine. I wasn't ready to share him with another guy. Not that I had exactly these thoughts in my head. Not at 15. I just felt down and confused.
My dad did his best to keep in touch with me all the way till I was 18. Only, I gave him the cold shoulder in return, and I'm ashamed to admit it. He would call about my semester reports and what my plans were for summer, would congratulate me on my birthday, sending me musical tickets by post as a surprise gift. He knew I was the one who shared that passion with him. Harry always got sports related stuff and loved it. But I knew that dad and I had a connection that my brother didn't have with him. Sure, Harry was older and still remembered our father. He never even called Steven 'dad' by unspoken agreement.
Anyway, one day right after I turned 18 and in the summer before I left for college, I spent idle hours in front of my computer. Yes, jerking off to porn, mostly. But on a whim I also opened Facebook and scrolled down to the ominous Barry's profile. Opening it, I scrolled through the most recent pictures, looking for a recent shot that involved my father. I was stunned. Right there in front of me was a recent post with wedding pictures. A gay wedding. Lots of guests, awesome decorations, cake and all the stuff like straight out of a lifetime rom-com. Barry looked awesome in a tux, exchanging rings with... someone who wasn't my dad.
So wait... You can guess my train of thought. Dad and Barry had broken up?!
I can't even begin to describe what went through my head. I think I didn't even know it myself. I threw myself on my bed, sweeping through my unmade sheets to find my discarded phone and sent a WhatsApp to dad.
"What's up, dad? You know, it's my last summer at home before I leave for college. You said you'd take me camping again to Lake Placard. Is that still on? I'd love to see you."
Too much after giving him the silent treatment for three years? Probably.
But I wanted to get to the bottom of why dad kept me out of the loop on his private life, not even telling me that he was gay? What the hell? I was furious. Not least of all because I was gay too and could have used a decent role model in the last few years.
I kept staring at my phone for what felt like hours until dad finally read my message and started typing a response.
"Hey bud, so good to hear from you. Sure it's still on. How about this Friday? I'm off all weekend. Can't wait to see you again."
Yes! Rolling onto my back and staring at my ceiling with a goofy smile, I threw my phone to the side and crossed my arms behind my head. This was definitely on. I couldn't wait.
+++
I had all my stuff packed and ready when dad arrived on our doorstep. And the thing you should know about dad is: He has a super boring job, working in logistics for a pawnshop in Denver. This mostly meant he was carrying old heavy stuff around (and had a killer body to show for it), but it also meant that he'd sometimes be using pawnshop property at home, simply because he needed to move things back and forth and couldn't get it done in one day. So, when I was a kid and dad picked me up from school, he would appear in a frigging Delorean, park right in front of the school, whistle for me and my brother to get his attention and then had the other jealous kids eat our dust after we entered the car through these frigging gull-wing doors.
So, knowing this, you can estimate I wasn't out of my mind impressed but still super stoked when dad got out of a Pontiac Firebird that day, the back seat filled with camping gear. It was black just like that talking car in this 80s crime show that my dad grew up with. I wondered if he brought the car on purpose to impress me?
He got out of the car, pulling his aviators up over his forehead and flashed me a smile, showing those brilliantly white teeth. Oh wait, I'm fangirling again. To bring us back down to reality, let me explain what I actually saw.
He was dressed in cut off jeans (which only hot dads like him could pull off, seriously) and a gym shirt that was testament to the fact that it was 35 degrees out and he had the windows down instead of using the A/C. Not to mention it showed off his huge biceps and forearms. I walked up to him and gave him a bro hug, noticing how we were both of the same size, something that definitely wasn't the case the last time I had hugged him. He smelled of citrus (probably his aftershave) and salt (probably his sweat). All in all, he smelled like the ocean to me. I might have watched too many detergent ads, though, so don't mind me.
What I did notice most of all, when he drew back and looked me up and down, were the wrinkles around his eyes and the lines on his forehead. And I don't mean that he looked old. He looked tired and a bit sad, his smile not reaching his eyes.
I should have asked how he was, like any good son would, but instead I bent over to grab my stuff and marched toward the car, wondering where I could stow my stuff. A Firebird wasn't really built for camping, even I could tell that.
"I hope you don't mind, I got him for the weekend and I figured there's hardly a cooler way to ride than this one," he said with a smile on his face. I couldn't tell if there was a joke in there or if he seriously considered this old-timer cool enough to take an 18 year old camping. I simply smiled and threw on my own shades.
"It's dope, dad. Let's see how it does on gravel roads, then." I hopped into the car and let my bare elbows rest on the window frame.
Dad sped off and we spent the next half hour catching up on life. How was mom, my friends, my grades, my plans for college. At some point I had enough.
"Why didn't you tell me you were gay?!"
I noticed a slight hitch in the smooth drive. I would be dramatizing if I said he almost drove us into a ditch, but he definitely gripped the wheel with a little more force than necessary. I waited for him to recover, but he just stared ahead, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. I felt sorry for bringing this up out of the blue.
"I am gay too you know. I would have needed you figuring it all out," I tried to soften the blow. He looked over at me and back to the road. I felt the car slowing down, until he stopped on the side of the deserted country road.
"I... I'm sorry. I didn't realize." He kept looking straight ahead.
I wondered if I had gone too far. I always considered my dad my family, someone you didn't need to have secrets from. Now I wondered if I was intruding in a part of his life that he didn't want to share with me. I saw his jaw muscles working. He wore stubbles on his cheeks that gave him a five o'clock beard shadow that probably originated from his Italian ancestors. In any case, it made him even more handsome when he wore a scowl like this, his thick eyebrows coming down deep into his eyes. He looked like that ancient sculpture of that guy sitting on a rock, thinking.
"Dad?", I tested the waters. I tried to bring back the closeness between us. I hoped he wouldn't ask me to call him Steven next.
He looked over at me, and I was shocked to see a tear fall from his eye, leaving a trail down his cheek. He scrunched up his nose and sniffed, lifting his hairy arm to wipe away the evidence of his inner turmoil.
"I... you're gay?", he asked eventually. "Like, is this your big coming out?"
I stared back at him, a smile spreading my lips. "Dad, it's 2019, I came out two years ago. I just didn't want to bother you with it, since you apparently wanted to hide *your* sexuality from us."
He looked down at his hands. "It's...it's not so easy for me, bud. You know how your grandma and grandpa are. They wouldn't take it too well, if they knew."
I looked at my 39 year old dad, surprised he was afraid of what his parents might think of him. I was hoping at a certain age, these fears would disappear automatically.
"They wanted me to become a lawyer, you know. Not that my dad was much of an academic, mind you," he started reminiscing and smiled to himself. "But they wanted more for their only son. And look at me. I work a blue collar job, I'm divorced, gay and so deep in the closet I wouldn't find my way out with a flashlight. Hell, I don't even have kids."
He bit back a gasp. I looked over at him, catching his blue eyes.
"Jesus, I'm sorry, kid, I didn't mean it that way. You and Harry meant he world to me, you know that. I just thought you weren't interested in having me as your dad anymore when you went so quiet on me."
Don't get me wrong, I was an 18 year old man. Scratch that, an 18 year old kid, I had no reference how to deal with this situation, but I did know that dad was sitting across from me, close to tears. I leaned forward and pulled him into a hug. He stiffened and it took a few heartbeats for him to hug me back and relax in my arms.
"I love you, dad. No matter what I said to you in the past or how I came across when you texted with my moody teenage self, I will always love you." I kissed his cheek and tasted another tear on my lips. He sniffed again.
"I love you too, Nick." He let go of me and put his hand back on the wheel. He laughed self-consiously, looking damn cute with his flushed cheeks.
"Lake Placard is still a little way to go, so let's not waste time." The Fireboard roared back to life and off we went, leaving only a trail of dust in our wake.
+++
The camping ground was deserted. I knew dad loved the solitary lake in the middle of nowhere. He was a quiet and private guy. You never found him on overcrowded beaches or going on the popular hikes. He couldn't understand my generation's need to find good Instagram locations. Hell, I guess he still didn't know what Instagram actually was.
Leaving the car behind in a public parking lot, we took the two hour hike with all our baggage, which was considerably more than usual. At least, I convinced dad to leave the second tent behind that he bought on the mere hunch that I might be too old now to share a tent with weird old dad. He looked at me strangely when I dropped the rolled up tent into the car's back seat. He didn't need to know I was looking forward to sharing a tent with him, even if my initial reaction to seeing the second tent was in fact "Nuh-uh, not carrying that fucker" because of the additional weight.
After two hours of humid heat and lots of mosquitos, we finally arrived on the lake's shore. We had lost our shirts on the way and sweat was pouring off our chests in rivulets. I tried not to stare at my dad's thick chest hair that was clutched on his skin or the wet spots forming on his shorts, weirdly outlining his package.
I wasn't worried about dad catching me semi-hard anyway. Even if I wasn't gay and attracted to him, my raging hormones made sure that I carried a boner around at least half of my waking hours.
Dropping our baggage, I didn't lose a single minute, stepping out of my shoes, socks and dropping my shorts and underwear. I felt dad staring at me, as I walked toward the lake.
I turned around, fully aware my cock was at least half hard already. Dad flushed and quickly looked away.
"Come on, dad. It's super hot, let's cool off first before we unpack." I waded into the water and fell back, relishing the refreshing cool of the lake water. Dad still stared, as if unsure what to do. He got out of his hiking booths and socks, but hesitated when it came down to removing his pants. I rolled my eyes.
"We've been skinny dipping here for as long as I can remember. Don't be shy now," I cheered him up, longing to see that long and beautiful dick that I used to subtly check out as a kid. He flashed me a bashful smile and removed his pants in one go. My eyes widened, seeing as my dad sported an equally half erect cock, his shaft huge and wide and nestled in curly hair that was black and slick from sweat. He quickly ran toward the water, his cock dangling around and then dived in head-first. He came up for air a minute later, about 20 meters into the lake, as far away from me as seemingly possible. He was treading water, sweeping his wet bangs off his forehead with both hands.
I swam toward him, splashing water at him which he retaliated in kind. When I swam up to him to grab and pull him under water, he backed off, a scared look on his face again.
"It's... it's deep here, and we're tired from the hike," he said lamely and splashed water at my surprised face. When we swam back to the shore, I waited for my feet to touch the pebbles on the ground, before I leaped at him and grabbed him from behind. I was surprised to learn that we were indeed the same height now and dad's legendary strength wasn't as great as I used to think it was. I felt his muscles tense underneath me, his feet flaying to find purchase as I upended him sideways. We wrestled like this for several minutes, coming up for air every now and then, filling our lungs before expelling the inhaled air in bubbles that our tickling and laughing produced under water.
When I felt that dad seriously needed air, I loosened my arms and let him roll to the surface, lowering my grip until I reached his waist and pulled him under again. At one point, I felt his ramrod straight cock on my neck, tickling my stubbly cheek. Dad pushed me away like a hot piece of iron, but when we came up for air and sat in the shallow waiter, breathing heavily, he was still smiling.
I looked down at my cock, which never went down during our horsing around.
"I'm hard too, dad. But then I am most of the day." I wasn't even ashamed to admit it.
He was panting from exertion and smiled. "I know that age well. Your hormones aren't giving you a break." He got serious suddenly.
"Which is why this probably wasn't a good idea." He looked down at his hard cock in the water.
I moved over to sit right next to him. "Do you remember when I was very young. You used to watch these old romantic comedies with me, the ones that even mom rolled her eyes about." He smiled and nodded.
Remember what I said whenever we watched them?
He started to laugh. "Yeah, you wanted me to give you a kiss like the girl gets from the boy in the movie. A Hollywood kiss, you used to call it. You were a strange kid, let me tell you that."
"But I always got my kiss, didn't I?" He laughed.
"You wouldn't drop the issue until I kissed you. And you were a terrible kisser. Really awful. You bit my cheek once."
Without warning, I toppled him, pushed him on his back until only his head was out of the water and kissed him. My lips on his lips. I remembered what it felt like to kiss him when I was a kid. Back when I thought kissing actually meant biting each other's cheeks.
I hovered with my lips pressed to his mouth. He was frozen. I could feel that he wouldn't respond to me the way I had hoped. I trailed off, my lips grazing his stubble, softly biting his chin in a weird reflection of the way I had bitten him as a kid. Only this time, I followed up each soft bite with a swipe of my tongue to soothe the sting. He moaned and turned his face away from me. I lay, half on top of him, securing his chest to the ground. He didn't fight me off, though. He lay under me, his head to the side and I suddenly felt his chest shake. Was he crying?
"Dad?", I lifted off him and looked at his closed eyes, eyelashes wet from water and fanning over his tanned skin around his eyes. He sniffed and grabbed my wrist, not pushing me away, but holding tightly.
"Barry left me," he said quietly. I wasn't sure how to respond. It wasn't news to me anyway.
"I loved him and he left me." He sobbed again, his head resting on the pebbles, hair fanning out in the water, moving like tendrils of some fancy water creature.
"Why?" I rested on my elbow next to him, looking down at his shut down face.
He turned his head to look at me.
"He said I was too afraid to be an equal partner for him. He was out and proud and I was...not." Dad stared off into the blue sky, his pupils contracting almost to pins in the bright light.
"It's okay to be afraid." I don't know why I said it. It seemed important to me to state it, though.
Dad looked at me then, searching my face for something I didn't know.
"You're not afraid of anything." He pushed himself up then, regaining a sitting position, his back to me.
He sniffed and swiped his furry arm over his face.
"Let's put up the tent, before we freeze our balls off." He got up and walked over to our things, pulling a fresh pair of underwear out of his backpack and sliding it up his hairy, toned legs.
It was evening by the time everything was set up and we had a small fire going. The air had turned a bit chilly but the fire gave off warmth. Dad told me stories about his job and the crazy people he met there. I felt bad for him. He was such a gentle and kind soul, yet he seemed to deal with the weirdest assholes on a daily basis. I watched the shallow crinkles around his eyes move when he lost himself in an especially funny incident that made him laugh.
"I'm beat, dad. I'm gonna hit the hay. Thanks for that awesome day." I got up and on my way to the tent, bent down to give him a chaste kiss on his forehead, only he tilted his head up and our lips met again. His eyes flew open just as mine closed, his nose nuzzling the edge of my mouth, as he gently pushed me off his lips. "I'll be with you in a minute, bud."
Of course, lying in my sleeping bag in the darkness, I nearly suffocated. It was hot, I was horny and the object of my lust sat just a few meters away. Listening to dad rustling about outside the tent, I got in a risky mood and peeled off my underpants, lying down naked in my sleeping bag, slowly stroking my rock hard cock.
I heard dad dowsing out the fire, as I gently teased my dick. Sweat ran down my chest, so I opened the zipper of my sleeping bag and exposed myself. Of course, dad chose right that second to crawl into the tent on all fours. I could see his shirtless silhouette and felt his soft breath on my exposed skin. I continued stroking myself slowly, watching his reaction. He hesitated.
"Do you want me to come back later so you can finish?" He seemed almost shy.
"No, dad.", I said, continuing to stroke myself. I reached for my cellphone and switched on the flashlight, aiming it at the ceiling of the tent, bathing us in a soft glow. Dad was staring at my dick. He only wore briefs and I saw the outline of his growing cock tenting the fabric. "Please stay," I pleaded.
I saw the exact moment he made the decision. He shuffled closer and rested on his side next to me. I was flat on my back, so I saw his contemplating gaze staring down at me, probably trying to find the kid he knew under the young man I had become. For me, he was still dad. The dad I trusted with everything. The dad whose hands I wanted on my body now.
"I need to come, dad. So bad" My voice was whiney and I hated me for it. I knew I had worn him down with my advances.
"It's okay, bud. It's okay," he whispered and started caressing my leg as I stroked myself. My left hand was only inches away from his dick under that thin layer of his briefs. I teased it with my knuckles and felt it grow, until his massive erection must have been painful to him. With a swift tug, he tucked his briefs under his balls and rested his erection on my hairy thigh. Drops of pearly precum left a trail in my hair. I grabbed his shaft and stroked it with my left hand, in rhythm to my right one. Dad closed his eyes and let me continue. His hand traveled up to cup my fuzzy balls, slowly massaging them in circles while I jerked us both. His moans grew louder and when I felt my balls drawing up for what would be the orgasm of my life, I let go of dad's dick and grabbed his neck instead, pulling his mouth down on mine. He continued to moan, knowing that it turned me on like hell and opened his mouth to mine, tongues exploring and tasting each other, sloppy kisses that left a trail of spit between our lips whenever we came up for air before returning to our kiss once more. Dads hands were all over me, cupping and massaging my balls, my taut stomach, not nearly as hairy as his, but sporting a layer of hair that he tugged on with the tips of his roaming fingers.
He abandoned my lips to chew on my nipple, alternating between biting and licking it, the sweet sting of his teeth finally sending me over the edge. My heart beat wildly inside my chest as I witnessed my calm and composed dad become a sexual creature chasing my orgasm alongside me. I lifted my hips off the floor, knowing my cock would shoot my cum right on my dad's cheek this way. The heat in my belly expanded until I was consumed by ecstasy and simply let go.
Dad had turned his head to face my cock, just as my piss slit opened up to release a long jet of semen, sending it straight into dad's open mouth. I heard the surprised gasp and moan as he opened wider to receive all I had to give on his tongue. I lifted my waist higher aiming my cock at his face, feeling the waves of his thick hair on my belly as he rested there, sliding lower until he closed his lips over my spewing cock, welcoming the final jets of my endless orgasm on his tongue. I felt him lick my head clean until the sensation was all too much right after my climax.
When he bent backwards to lie on his back, his cock was sticking straight up like a rod, copious amounts of precum hanging off his piss slit like a thread.
I battled his tired arms away and gripped his shaft in my hand before closing my mouth over the mushroom shaped head, licking and slurping the precum off him, receiving more of it from his endless supply. His balls were drawn up as far as they would go and all it took was one swipe of my inexperienced mouth to take him as deep as I could and I felt him erupt on my tongue. Warm, bitter streams of cum hit the back of my throat. I quickly swallowed them down before my choking reflex made me cough, closing my lips near the head instead, where more and more of his cream flowed onto my tongue. I collected it all in my mouth and just when I was about to lose it through the corners of my lips, I swallowed again, surprised to feel dad's dick pulse once more, bringing new jets of his semen to my waiting mouth. He came like a horse.
When he was done, I licked his cock clean, kissed the head and moved up his body. His mouth found mine and we relished each other's taste on our tongues as we tired each other out with sloppy kisses, our sweat allowing us to rub against each other with the sweetest kind of friction.
I felt his mouth near my ears when his heavy breathing subsided.
"I love you, Nick. I hope this won't change anything, bud. I won't stand in your way, ever. Just don't turn your back on me." The pleading tone broke my heart.
"I love you too, dad. Now more than ever. I want to be with you. I'm sorry that I was jealous and ignored you. I knew you were with Barry. I saw your photos on Facebook. I just wanted you for myself. My beautiful gay dad. You're never gonna lose me. Ever."
I closed my speech by kissing dad's eyelids. He held on tight to me, his muscular arms encircling me. I kissed his cheek and worked my way back to his forehead, until I finally felt him relax under me. I held him in my arms the way he held me all those years ago, softly rocking me to sleep after I cried. He was mine now.
As his breathing evened out to sleep, I kissed his head, his thick hair tickling my nose. I loved this man, conventions be damned. I would do anything to make him happy.
+++
I stayed with dad all the way through college. It was a reasonable commute and sleeping in dad's bed beat dorm life any day. When I graduated, dad arranged a surprise party for me. What surprised me most was the fact that mom and Harry were there too. I wondered why dad was so fidgety that evening, but I soon realized why when he knocked a spoon against a Champaign flute and openly declared how proud he was of me and that he wanted the world to know that he loved me. And to make his point clearer, he walked over to me, embraced me and kissed me like the lovers we were.
Mom stormed out and - to my knowledge - never spoke a word with dad again. Harry, however, looked like a light bulb went on above his head. He wasn't exactly smiling, but came over and slapped dad on the back. "Man, now you know why I ain't ever called you 'dad'." He shuddered visibly. "But good for you, guys. It's weird, but it ain't illegal, so...," he grabbed another beer from a nearby table and turned away. "That's all the blessing you're gonna get from me."
We were good. My friends mostly understood. They knew dad wasn't my real dad and I made a point in calling him Steven whenever I spoke of him, so for them, it was more of a 'coming out' party than anything else.
For me, however, it was a pivotal moment in time. The day I officially became my dad's lover. A title I hope to carry all my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment