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Staying With My Father, Joe

Posted by: Author: Age: 52 Posted on: 0 comments
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It didn't take long to find a job in the podunk West Texas town my father lived near. Pay sucked but what option was there? My dad, Joe, didn't charge me rent for the spare room in his mobile home which was damn decent of him.

At twenty six I had made a wreck of my life doing all the stuff your mama told you not to. I was grateful Joe, who I had only seen a handful of times in my life, (I was conceieved in a one night stand) invited me to live with him.

We not only had physical similarities but others as well. We both tended to be loners. We could be alone but not lonely. This made our living together pretty easy. We didn't bug each other.

We also established early on that we both were used to being bare-assed naked at home. It just seemed crazy for, us, two grown men, to change our habits. It seemed equally as crazy to be modest about beating off.

One night I found Joe's skin flicks, which he was not really hiding, among his Hollywood tapes and we ended up sitting side by side on the couch, our bare hips and legs touching, and jacked off. It felt incredible. For me, stroking cock felt more exciting with another guy, though I certainly enjoyed flying solo, too.

One morning, I woke to the usual aroma of coffee. I got out of bed and walked past the bathroom. Joe was standing at the sink slowly fisting his hard dick. Doors were rarely closed in his small mobile home. Realizing I was up to blowing a wad I padded over and stood next to my dad and started fondling my ballsack and cock.

We both leak precum like mad just thinking about sex, always plenty of the slick stuff so I never needed lube.

Joe looked up in the mirror briefly and gave a slight smile beneath his thick moustache, then resumed slowly pumping his fist up and down his stiff pole

Standing side by side at the sink he put his free arm over my shoulder and pulled me closer to his warm bare skin. I switched the hand I was jacking with and half-hugged his strong muscled back massaging his hip with my moist palm. I moved down and gently ran my hand over his tight ass cheeks and ran my finger lightly up his butt crack. He moaned a little and then I moved down to rub as much of the hard tube of swollen cock behind the balls as I could reach. Joe took a deep breath and grunted in pleasure.

Occasionally we'd look up at each in the mirror. I could see my dad in me and me in him. He did too. No words were necessary. We watched as we worked our rigid pricks.

With his arm still around me our breathing got heavier and quickend. He pulled me closer and we felt our bodies tense. I stopped briefly, my rod pulsed, then I resumed pumping and letting out an 'aah, fuuuck.' Cum spewed from my dick hitting and dripping down the tile, spigot, faucet and porcelain basin. I kept pumping wanting to drain my balls completely.

Seeing me blow my load pushed my father over the point of no return and streams of spunk shot out reaching the mirror, coating his fist and dripping onto his bushy hairy crotch. His arm went lax around my shoulder. We were both spent. Joe's eyes closed, his head tilted back slightly as kept stroking, gently squeezing all the cum out.

We both were in the habit of rubbing the cum into our torso, pecs and thighs until it was dried. We rubbed each other too, massaging the thick warm cum onto each others relaxing dicks and scrotum extending the heady rush.

Not really wanting to shower up right away, we left the bathroom, poured some coffee and went out on the small but sturdy deck Joe had built himself and sat, utterly relaxed and naked, sipping mugs of hot coffee, never speaking a word and watching the morning come alive. No one around for miles and miles.    



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