joes1026: drakestories:hugyerbud:Looks like it’s just you and me tonight, son…It&
joes1026: drakestories: hugyerbud: Looks like it’s just you and me tonight, son… It’s my last night home of Winter Break before heading back East to school. It’s been a good visit, even though it’s been weird between Dad and me. Not weird, actually, but normal, and that was weird in itself. After what had happened last summer… me and Dad having sex and him actually kissing me, an honest to God boyfriend-style kiss…. well, after that, the last thing I expected was things to be normal. I mean, I expected half of it. The lectures from Dad saying how what we did was inappropriate and that it could never happen again. The attempts to go back to the way it was before, him as the quiet but authoritative paternal figure in my life, me as the Daddy’s boy of an only son, good at school and even better as a crew athlete at the selective liberal arts college I attended. I expected all of that. I just didn’t expect how easily Dad could slip back to Normal. No guilt, seemingly, no tension, no desire. Meanwhile, I spent the entire vacation home pining for something to happen again and feeling guilty I wanted it so much. Guilty I was sneaking glances as my father whenever I could. Guilty I was wanting him to cheat on Mom again. Guilty I was counting the hours till my mother, a nurse, left for her shift. Like tonight. My last night. I know it’s going to be a low key night, me and Dad watching a college bowl game. Me teasing him on how crap his fantasy team has done this year. Him joking that he’s gonna give me a hundred bucks if I pick a winning team for him next year. You know, the normal. And even if it’s not what I really want, it’s the longest six hours waiting the afternoon til Mom leaves us to my last night in town. When she’s heading off to work, Dad’s already fixed his bourbon. Barrel-aged stuff, Dad’s a bit of a connoisseur. He’s usually fine with me having a beer or two when I’m home, as long as I stay responsible about it. So I’ve helped myself to one. Something to celebrate my last night home. I give Mom my goodbyes before I leave. I have a flight first thing in the morning. I promise to keep in touch. And little does she know but Dad’s already planning to fly me home for her 50th birthday in February. We hug and she gives me that “I can’t believe my boy’s all grown up” look but fortunately she doesn’t say anything embarrassing like I expect she will. Then she’s off. I come down the steps to the den where the big screen TV is on and the lights dimmed. Ready for a night of football. Only Dad turns it off. “I hope you don’t mind, Scott, but I thought it be nice just to hang out and talk. It’s been a while.” “Sure, Dad,” I say, a little unsure of what he means. Is this just some quality time or am I about to get a talking to? I hadn’t exactly come out to him, but after last summer he must have some questions. Questions we’ve not dared to broach. My heart beats a little faster as he reaches in the freezer of the wet bar and pulls out a glass with water frozen into a layer of ice. Pour a good inch of brown spirits into it and hands it to me. “Here, try this one.” I take a sip. A little burny, but the flavor sings on the afterburn. I nod. “Nice.” “John J. Bowman single barrel, my new go-to.” He seems to take some satisfaction that I know how to savor it, even if I lack his discerning palate. He picks up the aromatic cigar he’d pulled out. “Want one?” I’ve smoked them a couple of times including at my Uncle Jeff’s wedding last year. But I’m still a novice. “Sure.” He smiles and walks us over to the sofa. “Making this den into a man cave was the best decision I made. Made it worth blowing a couple dozen grand on that bathroom remodel your mom wanted,” he said. We plop down and I light up the cigar. I feel content and relaxed and just happy to be brought into dad’s private masculine world. His adult world now that I’m an adult, too. I look over and have a sudden panic. Fuck, Dad said he wanted to talk. Maybe this was the preamble to the Serious Shit part of the evening. Only Dad pats my knee and smiles with a wry sadness. “So my boy’s heading back tomorrow. Feels like your visits get shorter each time.” I feel bad. “I’ve been here almost two weeks, Dad.” He shakes his head and takes a sip of bourbon. “Nah, I don’t mean literally. Just that time flies by.” I don’t know how to reply and thankfully Dad doesn’t seem to be waiting for a response. “Listen, I know we didn’t talk about what happened last summer,” he starts. Oh no, here it comes. My body seizes in dread but I try to keep a poker face. “But…” his voice gets softer, real quiet, and if it wasn’t dead silent in our basement I wouldn’t have heard him. “… if you want me to do that again for you… I could.” I don’t know what the human record is for the speed in getting an erection, but my young cock bones up almost instantly. My heart pounds and feels like it’s right up in my throat. I look over at him, catching his penetrating gaze and somehow I croak out a reply. “Yeah, sure.” That came out as a lot more noncommittal than what I’m feeling but that doesn’t stop Dad. Methodically, he sets down his drink and while I still have mine in one hand, lit cigar in the other he puts his hands on my knees and spreads them while he kneels down between them. I moan as his hands travel up my thighs and start massaging my hardon. “Damn, you’re big,” he hisses and pulls down my zipper. I’m going commando and immediately feel his strong fingers grip my erection, teasing out into view. “Fuck!” he groans and leans over, placing it into his mouth. I wish I could say it’s a nice long session between us, but blow jobs get me off real quick and Dad is amazing at giving them. Better than any of my fuck buddies at school. But it’s a real trip to sit there in that comfy sofa and alternate a sip of my drink with a toke on the cigar while Dad blows me. And knowing we were alone only adds to the enjoyment. I can speak aloud, urging him on until finally I say out loud, “Dad, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum in your mouth, sir.” And like that my ejaculation comes on strong and heavy, and my father swallows it all with frantic grunting sounds. After I’m done, he leans up, all smiles, and goes in for a kiss. I return it, and then some. “There,” he says. “That should last you till February.” Fantastic, guys. Read this, from one of our Tumblr masters -- source link