Friendly Visit
Peter groaned as he felt something heavy on him, pushing him into the soft mattress below. His face was deep in the pillow, so he couldn't exactly look around, but something else gave him a good idea of what the mysterious pressure could be. He felt a warm waft of air blow into his ear, and judging by the rather unpleasant smell of morning breath, he could tell what - or rather, who - it was.
Without making much noise, he tried to peel the arm and leg off himself, just as he did yesterday. But his dad wasn't asleep.
"G'morning, hun." Henry bellowed.
Instead of letting him go, dad opted to pull Peter even closer, ensnaring him into his embrace, chest to back. Henry's chest hair scratched against his son's back in a most pleasant way - causing the young man to shudder, his breath hitching for a bit.
"Pa... Ya could've told me ya were awake." Peter protested a bit, but ultimately settled against him.
"When? When ya were fast asleep? I ain't gonna wake my boy." Henry chuckled and placed a kiss onto Peter's messy hair.
"Fair... G'morning to ya too, pa. Sorry for goin' out like a light yesterday."
Peter proceeded to turn around in his dad's hug, the hairy coils around him loosening slightly to allow this. Now, he was directly in his father's jungle of a chest, nose stuck in-between the two big, slightly flabby pectorals.
"No need for apologies, hun. Ya were tired. Just like me before. Hope ya had a good rest." Henry said, rubbing his son's back.
"'F course I did. Ya tuckered me out mighty, pops. I forget how hot ya are sometimes." Peter laughed, pressing a kiss to the expanse in front of him.
Something sticky and slightly crumbly hit his tongue. It smelled familiar - tasted too... Oh, it was their cum from before.
"Damn, ya didn't even wash up?" Peter said more in disbelief than as an accusation.
"Sorry, hun. Guess I wasn't exactly chipper too. Especially after carryin' ya up the stairs. Yer a chunky lad, boy. That's good. Means my son's getting all the grub he needs to grow big and strong."
"Pops, I fear I'm past that stage. Long past it, actually. The only growin' thing on me now is my gut... and my cock." Peter drowned out the last words by slapping his belly.
Henry bellowed out a laugh before hitting his own bulging mountain, pressing it into Peter's.
"I fear ya still got ways to go in that regard. At least until ya catch up to me, hun."
"Just ya wait. I'll get ya one day, pops." Peter laughed back.
They didn't speak much after that, opting to just laze around in bed for a while. There was no rush to do anything, so they had the luxury to do this, and oh boy did they use it. But it couldn't last forever, so Peter decided to slowly disentangle himself again.
"Well, honeybuns, we oughta get ready for the day. C'mon, get up and at 'em." Peter said, hefting himself off the cozy comforter - aiming straight for the bathroom.
Henry was quick to follow, hauling his legs out of bed and onto the floor in one fluid motion. Their clothes from yesterday were in the hamper - the one thing Henry did before crashing onto the mattress himself.
All in all, it was turning out to be a typical morning - daily routine and all. They stood in their full naked glories in front of the sink mirror as they brushed their teeth. When it came to the shower, Peter looked at dad with a conspiratorial grin.
"So, pops, wanna save some water and get in together? Then again, if we do that, we're gonna be in that shower for a long time, so it might even out." Peter winked.
Henry blushed a bit and his son couldn't help but chuckle. It was cute seeing dad all worked up and shy despite it being years since they had started this. Truly, that only made him feel more lucky for being able to witness it first hand.
"I'm not gonna get outta that shower until I bust, am I?" Henry asked, staring off into a random corner.
"Nope. What kinda lover would I be if I didn't empty yar balls properly?" Peter winked.
The older man sighed, but walked towards the shower nonetheless. And his length - now jutting out proudly out of his dense bush - was a testament on its own. Peter only smiled as he got in right after, turning on the hot water.
Not a single second wasted and the son's knees were already on the tiled floor of the booth. Sure, his legs might have been scraped a bit afterwards, but who gave a fuck. He was not going to let his dad's dick go soft.
Promptly, his lips parted and half of the shaft got engulfed by his warm mouth, tongue already starting to swirl all over the rod. Henry nearly doubled over as his dick got gulped at hungrily. He had trouble finding his voice and Peter left nothing up to chance and started going to town on the cock that made him.
"Fuck... slow down, boy. Or I'mma bust before ya even get to the ro- oooooh." Henry's words turned into a moan.
Peter was prepared for his dad's girth, unlike last time. He felt it hit the back of his throat as he gobbled it up completely. His dad's pubes filled his nose up again with the scent of yesterday's escapades - the dried cum still not washed away.
Groans of various pitches came from above, as Henry's hands came into the hair of the man deepthroating his dick. His mind hazed over, his fingers tightening as he could feel his son's tongue stick out of that overstuffed mouth, grazing his hairy, low-hanging balls.
Water washed over their bodies, the plan of showering indefinitely delayed. Henry's moans became louder and louder. He wanted so badly to resist and regain his composure, but there was something about... about his son's entire demeanor. He felt so wanted and so desirable. Sure, he received plenty of praise and flattery from the older women in the area, but this felt special. It was more than just the appreciation though. It was the utter knowledge his boy had of him. Knew exactly how he ticked and what he liked.
The old man couldn't help but buck his hips a bit, his heavy sack hitting the younger man's chin. His nuts were churning as they prepared to explode in a white, creamy deluge. Peter could tell just by his dad's shaking frame how close his father was. And he was about to make it even harder to resist.
He hollowed out his cheeks and increased the tempo significantly - slamming into his dad's crotch like a madman, bumping into the throbbing pouch below with his jaw. With every bob of his head, his dad only moaned louder and louder, tightening his grip.
"I'mma blow. I'mma blow, son! Slow down, boy. Oh fuuuu-" Henry cut off, gasping for air.
And then Peter felt it. His dad's cockhead exploded in his mouth, releasing a flood of baby batter all into his willing throat. It washed over the back of his tongue as he could feel the slightly bitter jizz pool. He swallowed deeply, making sure to drink up all the swimmers in big gulps, all of them ending up in his stomach. Henry slowly regained his breath as his cock gave off its last few throbs, pushing out all the remaining cum out of his spent groin. For a man who had gotten drained two days in a row, he still had a lot to give.
A few drops of spunk dripped out of the corner of the sucker's mouth as he released the slowly softening spongy flesh. Wanting to tease his dad a bit more, he decided to open his mouth wide, the shower water hitting his face directly as he angled it upwards. Henry could see the remnants of semen coat the reddish-pink insides - covering the flesh from the pearly teeth to the gaping, recently-fucked throat at the end. If he could have gotten hard again, he would have.
"Pete... Pete, ya gotta go easy on yar old man. I'm not a young stud like yaself anymore." Henry panted out.
Peter only grinned like a cheeky little brat, getting up onto his feet and slamming his cum-stained mouth against Henry's. Dad did not protest as his arms enveloped his son's body. One of his hands found the two mounds down below and squeezed them gently, causing their owner to yelp a bit. The sound was muffled by the tongue-heavy kiss.
"Pops, if ya wanna have a go, ya can. Just lemme get some lube." Peter said, breaking the kiss and arching his back a bit to stick out his buns.
"Nah, hun. I'm already spent for the nearest future and besides - I gotta return the favor. But first I'mma turn this goddamn shower off. Wastin' good water." Henry grumbled as Peter laughed.
With popping knees, the older man got onto his somewhat shaky knees and placed his meaty hands onto the hips before him. Looking up in an almost pleading manner, he started to slowly kiss the groin before him. But instead of the dick, he aimed for the balls below, letting the erect cock rest on his face.
A smile formed on Peter's lips. He knew his dad had some particular tastes when it came to sex, even if the stubborn old man hated to admit them sometimes. But the young bear had his ways of coaxing them out.
"C'mon, pops. Get that good stank. Bet my nuts still reek after yesterday, yea? C'mon, give 'em a good smell." he goaded.
Henry's eyebrows slanted back a bit as he pushed forward, driving his nose into the pliable flesh. His eyes rolled backwards slightly as even Peter could hear the deep inhale he just took.
"That's it, pops. Get yar kick. Bet they're nice and sweaty. Maybe they still got that jizz on 'em too. Can ya smell it, honeybuns?" Peter continued to tease, reaching out with one hand to comb through his dad's soaked hair.
His father didn't respond - simply started to lick at the ballsack so tantalizingly presented to him. He extended his tongue and tasted the underside of the scrotum, causing Peter to moan a bit, chuckling right after.
"There ya go, pops. Get 'em nice and shiny for me. They're just for yar pleasure. Go ahead." he coaxed again.
As much as Henry had hated this way of talking at first, he had grown quite fond of it. It felt... exhilarating to truly show his perverted desires - and to his own son no less. He couldn't put it into words, but it caused shivers to run down his entire body as he arched his back a bit.
"Enjoyin' it? Good, pa. Ya deserve it, y'know? Always so strong and good to me. Takin' care of yar baby boy, right? Even carryin' me to bed with 'em strong muscles of yars." Peter patted the head in-between his legs.
Henry knew this shouldn't have aroused him as much as he did, but his slowly reawakening length hadn't gotten that memo. Wanting to please even more, he brought his arms up and flexed them a bit, his biceps bulging - muscle overpowering any layers of fat above. His tongue started lapping at both balls in front of him - alternating between them before popping them both into his mouth fully.
"Yea... That's my pa. Look at ya, so strong. Ya could carry this whole house if ya wanted to. Yea... So good for me. Takin' such good care of me. Enjoy it. Ya deserve it." Peter said as he bucked his hips very slowly, smearing his precum all over dad's hair.
The kneeling man only moaned through his filled mouth, moving his face as if to nuzzle into the dick on it. Cute. But Peter felt a bit desperate, so he pulled slightly at the hair in his grasp and caused his dad to release the two overfilled nuts with a pop.
"Pops, c'mon. I'mma blow soon and I don't wanna go on the floor." Peter pleaded.
He placed his cockhead at dad's bottom lip, pushing only ever so slightly, not wanting to force his way in. Though both of the men knew he wouldn't have to as Henry readily opened up his mouth.
Peter gently slid it in, thrusting his dick shallowly over his dad's tongue. Henry was a lot better with his ass than he was with his mouth, so his son didn't want to cause any unsexy accidents. It was alright though - the hot velvety insides of dad's were heaven no matter how deep or from which end.
"Yea... that's it, pops. Fuuuuck... I'mma blow soon. Get ready, m'kay? Oh fuck, here it go- awwww fuck." Peter moaned out.
Henry patiently waited in his kneeling position, letting the cum fill his mouth until his tongue was fully coated in it. His son's cockhead let out the last of its semen reserves and pulled out soon after. The cocksucker tried to swallow, but he just couldn't. Instead, he opted to spit it out onto the shower drain.
"Sorry, son. I just don't have it in me to get it down. I don't understand how ya do it." Henry said, slowly standing up again.
With a gentle smile, Peter gave his dad's hair a few pats. The reawakened dick in-between Henry's thighs had softened again.
"It's an acquired taste, pops. I don't blame ya. And hey, seein' all of my spunk come out of yar kisser is just as hot, honeybuns." Peter reassured him.
The two of them kissed again, this time a lot gentler and slower, their drained cocks hanging loosely down below, occasionally bumping against each other. Just as their heads above separated with a string of saliva, so did their heads below have a thick strand of leftover cum in-between them.
"I don't get how ya don't hate me after I do this for ya. Don't ya lose respect for me? For being so needy and desperate. It's humiliatin' and embarrassin'. Besides, it makes me look like a... like a slut." Henry said the last part with a whisper.
"Ain't nothin' wrong with bein' a slut, pops. And besides, I say it's tougher to admit to what you like. When ya suck my nuts I think yer really brave and manly for gettin' what ya want. Besides, it gets me shootin' like a volcano faster than the wind." Peter caressed his dad's cheek.
"If ya say so... but if ya ever get cheeky with me over this, I'll whoop yar arse so ya can see who still wears the pants in this house." Henry said with mock authority.
Peter could not recount a single instance of having been hit by his dad, which made it even funnier to him. He simply smiled and bent over a bit.
"If whoopin' my arse includes gettin' that lovely cock of yars up there, then I might just need to get cheeky with you, pops."
"Aight, that's enough, Mister. We're takin' this shower now, or I'mma die of shame." Henry quickly turned on the water again, his skin reddening under the heat to match his cheeks.
"Aye aye, sir. Here, lemme wash yar back." Peter said and grabbed the shower gel and sponge.
---
Not too shortly after finishing up in the steamy shower, they changed into presentable clothing and went about the next item on the daily agenda. Food.
Peter was the usual cook in the household, so he decided to man the stove once more. He was also fired on by his dad cooking before - he couldn't just let that slide. While the sauce bubbled in its pot, Henry decided to clean all the dirty dishes left in the sink from the days before.
Luckily, they didn't have to wait long before they both had a plate ready. A hearty orange sauce coupled with thick chunks of beef. As a finishing touch, Peter had opted for rice adorned with some herbs on top. And voila. Lunch was ready.
Sure, the cook might've thought that the sauce was a bit too sour, but judging by the way Henry voraciously shoveled the food into his mouth, that didn't matter much to his partner. Finishing just a little quicker than his son, Henry let out a barely concealed belch, patting his belly.
"Ya always know how to feed yar old man." Henry said contently.
"'F course, pops. A real shame if I couldn't. Though there's still some room for tweakin'." Peter said, eating up as well.
"Nonsense, boy. Few people could rival yar cookin', Pete." Henry nodded along.
"Ma could." Peter said and immediately wanted to kick himself for it.
While he had long accepted his mother's absence - barely remembering her face was tragic, but helped in its own way - for dad it was still a sensitive topic. And would remain one forever, most likely.
"Ah, sorry. I didn't mean that. Ya know me, I just say what I think, even if it's bullcrap." Peter apologized.
"Nah... besides, ya got me. Yar mums could indeed whip up food that tasted like heaven. But let's not talk about her, aight? The dishes ain't gonna clean 'emselves." Henry stood up with a sad smile.
Well, fuck. That was certainly a blunder. But it happened every now and then. As sad as it was, dad would get over it eventually. He always had.
Moving over to the living room couch, the smell hit them first. There was no airflow touching this space for a good half a day, so the smell of yesterday's escapades was still very strong. Peter smirked as Henry blushed a bit, neither saying a word, just opening up the windows properly.
"Here, pa. Ya pick the show today." the younger man said, plopping onto the couch.
Henry didn't protest in the slightest, enjoying his remote privileges. Sure, he did think himself a bit childish for it, but he had a strong connection to switching the channels himself. It just made him feel like the man of the house. Something he didn't feel often.
Sadly for him, his television time didn't last long as a knock came from the front door. Sharp, but rather restrained. Peter knew immediately who it was while Henry had his suspicions.
"Hello? Pete? We'd need your help for a bit." came from behind the closed doors.
Following the woman's voice, Peter's socks shuffled on the wood, until he pulled open the entrance with a big embrace ready.
"Mary! Nice to see ya, ya little minx. How can I be of service, ma'am?" he gave a mock curtsy.
"Piss off, would you?" she said, chuckling, as she pushed him into the shoulder.
"G'day, Mary. Everythin' aight? Ya got a leaky pipe?" Henry asked after arriving at the scene at his own pace.
"Actually, yes. That's why we need Pete here. The kitchen sink is spraying water all over, so we had to turn the main vent off. Think you can take a look?" Mary gave her best pleading eyes.
"Sure! Be there in a jiffy. I reckon it's only happened today?" Peter asked, grabbing his spare tools from the hallway closet.
"Yup. Pretty much just now, actually. Mums wanted to call, but I convinced her not to. Wasted phone time on a neighbor." Mary shrugged.
"Oh, I see. So I'm good enough to fix y'all's pipes, but not good enough to call? Good to know. And ya call yaself a friend?" Peter said with a fake sob.
Henry smiled at the exchange. He had always been happy over the blossoming friendship the two youngsters had. Certainly one of his son's more normal and responsible contacts. Wanting to give them space, he slowly started retreating back to the living room.
"Aight, ya two. Have fun and good luck!" Henry shouted from behind his shoulder.
"Oh, but you can come too, Mr. Lovegood. Ma even said to invite you along for a visit." Mary chimed in cheerily.
"Yea, c'mon, pa. Why rot in front of the tele. I'm sure Elizabeth will be more than happy to see ya." Peter came up to Henry and grabbed him by his sleeve - pulling.
A heavy sigh escaped his lips, but he nodded nonetheless. A mistake. The moment he stepped through the threshold of the neighboring house, a tidal wave of old cigarette smoke hit him. The ceiling and walls yellowing from the repeatedly burning death sticks. And the culprit was sitting on a chair in the kitchen next to an aisle, surrounded by wet rags soaking up the leak from the floor.
"G'day, Petey. To ya too, 'f course, Henry. Make yaselves at home." the old lady said.
Elizabeth managed to burn through four entire packs a day, and her voice reflected that. Honestly, Henry wondered whether there was any soot-free spot left on her lungs. Yet he smiled nonetheless - the perfect practiced grin for a friendly neighbor.
His son, wasting no time, was already on his knees in front of the sink, tools in hand and tinkering. Henry's smile turned genuine at Peter's diligence, pride filling his heart.
"Sorry for that, Petey. If ya need anythin' - water, food, towels or somethin' - just let me or Mary know." Elizabeth said.
"Eh, let ma know. I'll be outside for a bit." Mary said and immediately left.
"'F course, Mrs. Mayweather! Though I have all I need right with me, no worries there." Peter laughed.
"Such a good boy ya have, Henry. I mean, Harold would've fixed it... were he... y'know." she started crying.
"I know, I know. My condolences. It can't be easy for ya." Henry said, patting her back reservedly.
"It ain't... it ain't, Henry. I'm sure ya know it best. But it's... we have almost no money with our breadwinner gone. And I just wish someone understood, y'know? But it's like everyone forgot about us." she hiccuped.
Henry wanted to roll his eyes so bad, but he stopped himself. Honestly, hearing her fake grief felt like the gravest insult she could give, especially compared to how real he felt his own wife's loss. Yeah, Henry was definitely sure that Elizabeth's unemployed husband had brought a lot to the table. Maybe the vodka bottles he had loved so much. Had kissed them more than his wife and daughter combined.
And Henry would've felt pity at all this, were it not for the fact he had overheard the 'poor widow' celebrating when her good-for-nothing mate keeled over. Fucking celebrating! Hearing her moan and whine grated his gears like nothing else, but he wasn't one to cause problems. So he put on his most polite sympathetic face - as he was used to.
"I'm so sorry. That must be so hard for ya." he said.
Granted, this was better than the other conversations which usually took place around his middle-aged peers. Especially around women.
"I know my loss is still very recent. But ya know... ya had a lot of time to process yours. Ya sure ya don't wanna give Petey a step-ma? Might do ya some good too."
And here were the other conversations. Miraculously, Elizabeth wasn't crying anymore. Sadness? As if it had never existed. Having this scenario memorized to the smallest detail, he prepared his rehearsed answers.
"Nah. Me and Petey are fine. Don't really need anyone else." he shrugged.
"But ya have to have someone to cook and clean, no? Two men living together never ends good. Must look like a trash heap over at yars."
Henry suppressed a frown with all of his might.
"We manage, thank ya. If we ever don't - I'll let ya know."
"C'mon, don't be so cold. Y'know, if ya think ya can't nab anyone - yer wrong. I know so many ladies yar age who would pounce on ya if ya let 'em."
"Flatterin'. But still a no." he shook his head.
How long was she going to go on and on? He knew the answer to that - too long. WAY too long. That woman was a chatterbox and a half. He couldn't comprehend how Mary endured her mother on the daily. Desperately looking for something to distract his mind with, he noticed his own son's ass cleavage.
An ordinary case of plumber butt, but fuck if it wasn't hot. His mind went on autopilot answering the widow's questions as he pressed into the aisle he was standing at - urgently trying to hide any sign of a boner forming.
Then again, on second look, maybe it wasn't ordinary plumber butt. Peter was lurching forward with each movement of his wrench, for some reason. Henry knew his son and his plumbing. This wasn't how he usually did things. That brat...
The pants were slowly nudging lower and lower, exposing more and more of the ass cleft. Hairy mounds appeared from beneath the denim expanse, bouncing a bit as the momentum got to them. The jeans were pressing into the flesh insistently, pushing it out even more. The pressure applied from below only made the ass jiggle more with each movement. It couldn't have been comfortable, but it sure was hot... Fucking hell. That boy would be the end of him.
With great willpower, Henry looked back at Elizabeth, trying his best to ignore the pale skin of his son's ass - it didn't help that it stuck out like a sore thumb in the dark tiles of the kitchen.
She was still droning on and on about how much of a pity his widowerhood was. Yet somehow, this was more pleasant than potentially having to explain getting hard at his own son. Did the little provocateur even know what he was doing and what the consequences could be? Honestly, he probably did. And most likely found the possibility exciting. Henry exhaled drearily. Mary had the right idea when she had escaped into the garden right after the work started.
"Aight! All done, Mrs. Mayweather. Should be all good as new! Feel free to try it out! I'mma be outside with Mary for a bit." Peter said, not waiting for an answer as he packed his tools, pulled up his pants and headed outside.
What a handful that man could be.
"Y'know, yar Pete is ripe for marriage too, I reckon. Don't he have a girl?" Elizabeth changed the topic.
"Nah. At least I don't think so... Can't tell ya what he do when he's out in the world for work, but at home? Never had anyone over." Henry shrugged.
"I wouldn't be so sure. The young'uns have different manners these days. Livin' together like a pair of heathens, raisin' children out of wedlock. I'm tellin' ya, that's where all those fake problems come from. Back in our days, we had none of those 'Ey Dee Aitch Dee' things or that 'Global Warming' or whatever. All just their new humbug caused by 'em books and phones. Hopefully Pete ain't so. The city might've gotten to him." she looked at Henry with genuine worry.
The old man didn't know whether to laugh at her or just shake his head in utter disbelief. And this was despite the fact he had heard this out of her mouth so many times. So, with all the seriousness he could muster, he replied in a measured tone.
"Nah, he's fine. A proper man as oughtta be." he placated.
While he thought she was off the rocker, it was sadly the prevalent way of thinking in the quaint little town of theirs. The crushing majority had opinions adjacent to hers; old and young. This fact did not ease Henry's worries - if his relationship with Peter got revealed, they would have a really bad time on multiple fronts. Skipping town might not be enough after that.
"Oh, I'm sure. He's a proper fella, big as a mountain after his pops. Got manners and skills too, the lad. My Mary is similar, but her head is so far away these days. All 'independent' and 'educated'. I reckon she just needs to finally tie the knot. After all, my pops used to say: 'A good tumble in the sheets is enough to tame a lass.' Worked for me." she nodded to herself.
"I'm sure both of 'em will tie the knot once they find their special one. No tumbles or anythin' needed."
"Maybe. Maybe the two of 'em would make a cute couple, 'eh? C'mon, look at 'em! They get along since kindergarten the two. I bet their babies would be real pretty and smart. I would certainly support their union, that's for sure!" she ended the topic with a slap to the aisle.
Henry just stared out of the kitchen window just above the now-repaired sink. He could see Mary and Peter chuckle and talk about who-knows-what. He looked so happy. The way his chest bounced a bit as he laughed - his eyes squinting from joy. Oh, if only Henry could make sure his son was like this forever. No secrets or taboos.
"Yea... I would too."
---
"And then? And then?" Mary asked all curious.
"Then we made out. Let me tell ya, he might be older, but his kisser's so soft... Fuck, wanna smooch him just from thinkin' 'bout it." Peter smirked.
"You horny bastard. And I've seen your pa's lips, no way they're soft!" she protested jokingly.
"What would ya know? Ya old spinster!" he pushed her gently.
"Oh yeah? Want me to try and lose that spinsterhood of mine? How about I do it with your old man?" she smirked this time.
"Yea right. Like he'd go for a stuck-up priss like ya! And don't call him old! Lately, he gets weird about being in his fifties. Dunno what's gotten into him." he looked away.
As much as he had jested, this did genuinely worry him. Both the possibility that dad might want to get with someone else and the overall sensitivity Henry was displaying the past few months. Something was wrong, but he wasn't sure what...
"Alright, alright, sorry!" she put her hands up defensively.
"Nah, yer good. He do worry me though. I just can't see inside of that thick skull of his..." he shrugged.
"I reckon it'll be just fine. You've been together for what? Seven or eight years? That doesn't just break off easily. But if you want, I can send you one of my articles I wrote on dating." she suggested.
"Oh yea? Do ya have an article on datin' yar pops?" he looked at her with slanted eyebrows.
"I'm afraid not... But again, I'm sure it'll be fine! You have always been like two peas in a pod." she smiled softly.
Peter smiled back, grateful for having someone to talk to about this. As far as he knew (and hoped), she was the only one aware of his and his dad's nonstandard father-and-son relationship. She had taken it surprisingly in stride back when she had found out about it.
Despite growing up in the same town as him, she stuck out like a sore thumb. Thinking-wise, that is. Visually? She fit right in. Her frizzled hair formed a brown halo and her freckles spread all over her cheeks and arms. Green eyes adorned her pale, soft face. The thick-rims of her glasses and the cross on her gold necklace were also very much in accordance with local 'fashion'.
"Thanks... Well, I reckon I'll get pa and we'll get outta yar hair. The sink should be fixed and all. If not, come fetch me again. Always happy to see yar ugly mug." he joked.
"Right. Let me go grab my wallet and pay you." she nodded.
"Nah, no need. What are friends for, no? If I ever need someone to write an article for me, I know I could count on ya just the same." he smiled at her.
"Yeah, like people have articles written all the time. Come on, Pete. Ma will give me an earful if she finds out I let you go without money." she insisted.
"So? Tell her I don't want money. Or even better, tell her ya gave me money and pocket it for yaself. I ain't gonna tell." he laughed a bit and shrugged.
"You're insufferable sometimes... Last chance to accept the money." she said with a small grin.
"Nope! See ya!" he waved at her as he made his way back inside.
Elizabeth proudly showed him the working sink, thanking him profusely. He simply shrugged it off, saying it was nothing and claiming he had already been recompensed. Dad was more than eager to go back home, so the Mayweather house got left behind as they walked back.
But it seemed it was not yet time to stop being social, as a certain figure was standing at their front door, trying to peer inside through the window.
"Paul! Whatcha doin' there, chum?" Peter shouted as soon as he could see the face clear as day.
The man at their entrance turned around, waving with one hand. A messy nest of black hair fluttered with the motion as the slim and veiny figure faced Peter. Paul was certainly looking just as well as ever - so slightly disheveled and deodorantless.
"There ya are! I figured ya weren't home when you didn't hear my knockin', so I wanted to check. Where ya been?" Paul asked.
"Oh, just at Mary's. Fixed their sink." Peter shrugged as he and his dad approached.
"Ah, figures they'd call ya instead of me. But leave some clients left for the rest of us, aight?" Paul said with no real bite in his voice.
"'F course, chum. Wouldn't wanna make ya go outta business."
Peter and Paul met with a side-hug, pressing their hips together. Henry simply walked past them, unlocking the door.
"I'll leave ya two to it. Yer welcome to come in, Paul. Make yaself at home." Henry said before entering the house.
"I'm only here for a bit, so I ain't goin' in. Just wanted to see ya after ya came back from yar trip." Paul nudged Peter's shoulder.
"Mhm, I don't believe ya. We called a few times while I was away and ya never came to visit before when I returned home. What's up?" Peter raised an eyebrow.
"Shit, chum. Seein' right through my bluff, huh? Can't fool that nose of yars, ya bastard." Paul chuckled.
"That's right! Now stop circlin' round the truth and spill. C'mon, Paul." Peter was the one nudging shoulders now.
"Yea, yea... so like... uuuuh... how do I put it? Is Mary still... y'know... do she have a boo?" Paul asked with reddish cheeks.
"Whoa there, hold yar horses. Yer gunnin' for Mary? Mary Mayweather?" Peter said with disbelief.
"Nah, Mary Titfuck. 'F course I mean Mary Mayweather, ya bastard. What other Mary do we both know?" Paul said, irritated.
"Relax, chum. I'm just surprised is all... Why now, though? Ya've been friends with her and me for a long time. Shouldn't ya know?"
"Well, as far as I know she's still on the market. But I don't talk to her as much as ya. Don't help that there's word all over town that she's actually in a relationship, but keepin' it a secret. People whisper it's ya who she's seein'." Paul looked Peter dead in the eye, awaiting the response with bated breath.
Peter barked out into a loud, prolonged laugh. A few tears sprung from his eyes at the thought.
"Aw, fuck. Me and Mary? Yea, no. That ain't gonna happen and never has happened, I fear. And unless she's keepin' it a secret from me too, she is free like a wild horse."
"Dang. Coulda sworn you woulda tapped her by now." Paul mumbled.
A single punch connected with Paul's shoulder. A rough one at that.
"OW! The fuck was that for, ya bastard?" Paul said, stepping away and rubbing the area of impact.
"For even makin' me think 'bout that shit! I don't wanna imagine fuckin' a friend. Maybe this is why all yar previous girls left ya. All five of 'em." Peter scoffed.
"Aw, don't be such a prude. We all know guys want to get into any pussy they see. It's no secret." Paul shrugged, offended.
"Yea? Be careful I don't turn yar arse into a pussy then, ya perv." Peter just shook his head.
"Gross, dude. What are ya, a fairy?" Paul scowled.
Peter shook his head once more, not wanting to dignify that with a response. Both of the men just stood there, watching the evening sky, their breaths slowly becoming visible in the cooling air. Paul spoke up after a bit.
"Sorry. I just... I'm really excited about Mary still bein' single, ya know?... Ya think I have a chance?" Paul played with the hem on his t-shirt.
"I dunno. Ask her and see how it goes. Just don't talk to her about tappin' or pussies and shit, and ya'll be fine. Ya've been friends forever too, so what's the worst that could happen?" Peter shrugged.
"Yea! I guess yer right. What's the worst that could happen..." Paul smiled slightly.
"'F course I am! Maybe. I dunno, don't take advice from me, I ain't a love master... Honestly, I can't even tell what's wrong with the lady I'm seein'." Peter shrugged sadly, veiling the truth a bit.
"Dude, ya have a chick and ya didn't tell me? Chum... ya wound me. But I think ya'll be fine. If not, ya can always find another pipe to play plumber with." Paul winked.
"Nah. I ain't a hole hopper. It's just that... she gets real fussy 'bout stuff, y'know? Like she apologizes so much. I don't even know what for half the time."
"That's normal. She's prolly worried 'bout bein' with a stud like yaself. Wants to do ya right... Or, well... She could always be cheatin' on ya and tryin' to compensate that way." Paul thought out loud.
"Ya think? I dunno... I'd really hope not. Why even say it?" Peter frowned.
"I'm just sayin' the possibilities. Don't shoot the messenger or somethin'." Paul put his hands up.
"Yeah, yeah. How 'bout ya go shoot yar shot with Mary, hm?"
"I mean, I could. Tomorrow or somethin'. Maybe later... I dunno, dude."
"Nah, yer gonna do it soon, understood? Now yer gonna go home and prepare. Ya got this. Ya can be charmin' if ya want to be. And remember, it ain't gonna be that bad no matter what."
"I guess... I'll just see how it goes, yea... Thanks, chum. Will tell ya more after the deed is done. Have a good one." Paul nodded, giving Peter another side-hug.
"Ya too, chum." Peter hugged back, before crossing the threshold and going inside.
But Paul wasn't done speaking, having spotted something that caught his interest.
"Holy shit, dude. Is that fuckin' Ironman?" Paul pointed to the carving still on the shoe rack.
Peter stopped dead in his tracks and looked back. Paul was peering into the house from the open door, his face brightened by the indoor lamps. Guess it wasn't goodbye after all.
"Oh, yea. Forgot to bring it up. It's cool, ain't it?" Peter said as he proudly presented the beautiful figure.
"Man, this looks like quality work. Where'd ya get it? Must cost a fortune." Paul said as he leaned into the house through the door.
"Oh, I got it from a family friend. He's a fuckin' master at handlin' wood, let me tell ya." Peter boasted.
That caused Paul's face to fall, his mutton chops dipping alongside the corners of his mouth. His black eyebrows furrowed as the prominent veins on his arms pulsated a bit.
"Dude, ya don't mean fuckin' Weirdo Ivan, do ya?" Paul said with a hushed tone.
"'F course I mean Ivan. And he ain't a weirdo. He's just a loner." Peter retorted.
"Dude, I've told ya 'bout him! Ya shouldn't meet up with him anymore. Neither should yar pa." Paul hissed.
"Oh, fuck off. Not more rumors. Ya know those ain't true! Like the one 'bout me and Mary." Peter rolled his eyes.
"Listen to me, bastard! He's dangerous that lad. People in town don't trust him where they can throw him. Why do ya think he be livin' all alone in the woods somewhere?"
"Probably to not deal with the gossip that you keep hearin' everywhere!"
"Peter, I know ya don't care what people have to say 'bout others. Ya make that very clear. But I do and I have to warn ya."
It was true that Peter nipped any rumor talk straight in the bud. Most people had learned that very quickly and stopped even trying to go down that route with him. But Paul was the opposite in that regard. Honestly, that was probably why some locals still preferred him for plumbing jobs.
"Paul, again, I don't trust yar hearsay."
"No, but listen! How do ya think he makes money? Ya think sellin' wood makes him enough to survive? Nah. Apparently, he waits for tourists to come close to his territory. And then he strikes! Like a fuckin' snake. He takes all their stuff - especially their wallets. Since they're far away, nobody will know they were here and won't come lookin' for 'em. But that ain't even the worst of it. How do ya think he copes with bein' alone? Well, I'll tell ya how! After he takes everythin' his victims have, he starts to drag 'em back to his secret cave, hidden deep in the woods. To make it even more disgustin', he only targets fellas! Can ya believe it? I can feel my skin crawl just thinkin' 'bout it! And when he has 'em, he starts undressin' 'em and-" Paul's passionate rumormongering gets interrupted.
"Yea, that's enough of that. I ain't listenin' to yar fairy tales no more." Peter interjected with a tired sigh.
"This ain't tales! It's true!" Paul insisted.
"Paul, go home. Get some shut-eye. Maybe ya'll see how ridiculous ya are sometimes."
Paul got slightly red in the face again - this time he trembled and his brows got all bushy and furrowed. But he exhaled - slowly and loudly - before turning on his heel.
"I just hope ya don't pay for yar stupidity. Everyone in town knows but ya! One day, ya'll see just how big of a menace Weirdo Ivan really is." Paul huffed and then stomped off into the darkness.
Peter only watched as the short black mop of hair got smaller and smaller, until it was fully lost in the dimming daylight.
What a pain that man could be at times. But it'd be alright. People would get new rumors to talk about and it would all blow over. And Paul would get the stick out of his ass by then as well... hopefully.
Closing the door properly, the wooden boards creaked under Peter's socked soles - his shoes and the wooden carving both left at the rack - as he moved towards the kitchen. Dad was being particularly loud for some reason. Dishes clattered and so did silverware. A soft microwave buzz permeated any would-be silent moment.
Peeking into the room, he saw Henry preparing dinner, already reheating the leftovers from lunch.
"Oh? Ya done?" dad asked, but did not pause what he was doing.
"Yea. He was bein' a bit of a prick. But he'll get over it. Got his panties in a twist, give it a day. Maybe two." Peter said, more for himself.
"Mhm. Happens. Sit. We're gonna eat soon." Henry commanded softly.
Shortly after Peter took his seat, so did his dad. The food steamed in the plates in front of them, their stomachs growling. While the taste was a lot blander than when it was freshly cooked, they nevertheless shoveled it down in minutes. Peter volunteered for dish duty, as Henry begrudgingly obliged and walked off into the living room.
After everything was cleaned and put away, Peter did not hesitate before pivoting to a different plan of action. He shimmied his jeans and underwear impossibly low - covering only about half of his posterior - and grabbed a root beer for dad.
Swerving into the living room, he purposefully positioned himself in front of Henry and bent down really low to place it onto the table - so low, his hand had to come up to put the bottle down. He looked back, trying to gauge his dad's reaction.
His target was looking away, hypnotized by a stain on the wall. Oh, come on! And Peter was trying to be so obvious too. Well, then he'd have to be extremely upfront about it.
Simply walking back, he let himself fall onto his dad's lap, grinding into Henry's crotch. He made sure to be very rough with it - impossible to ignore.
"C'mon, pops. I know ya was lookin' at my arse before. Why hide it?" Peter taunted.
"I had to hide it 'cause of that old hag, ya prick!" Henry shouted loudly, voice laced with frustration.
Peter's confusion was palpable as he stilled his movements. He didn't mean that, but now he was curious what dad was talking about. A little hint of guilt and worry added themselves to the mix too.
"Whad'ya mean?"
"I mean yar stunt from before! How did ya expect me to explain that I was lookin' deep into my own boy's crack?"
"Why would ya have to explain? Everyone looks at a plumber's arse when it shows up durin' work. It's normal."
"Not when yar pecker wants to escape yar pants it ain't! Ya had me sweatin' bullets, son."
"Nobody can see yar mast through 'em baggy pants of yars, pops. C'mon now."
"They coulda! Ya never know!"
Peter didn't respond, just sighed. He looked at his dad for a long time before finally deciding to turn around. His legs framed Henry's body, but his ass remained firmly planted on his pa's thighs.
"Sorry, pops. I just wanted ya to relax a bit. Old hag was pesterin' ya again." Peter said, nuzzling his face into his dad's beard.
Henry wanted to stay serious and annoyed, but he couldn't. A wide smile slowly blossomed on his face. His beard was his sensitive spot - whether for kissing, combing, grasping, anything. Smart brat.
"So will ya rail me now?" Peter got back on track as he started to grind again.
"Ya have a one-track mind, Pete."
"Nah, I don't. I just don't want ya to forget what ya have home." Peter kissed the tip of Henry's nose and reached backwards, under the table, aiming for their living room stash.
The bottle of lube - already half empty despite having been placed there only a month or so prior - popped open. Peter applied a generous coating of it on his fingers as he started working himself open with his digits.
"Oh, I'm real tight after two weeks of no action. Three, technically, since ya refused to let me bottom before a work trip." Peter rolled his eyes.
Then, a twist. A surprised grunt came from the younger man's throat as Henry pulled him onto the couch fully. Dad's body was now fully hovering over Peter. Imitating what his son had done before, Henry lathered his fingers with a generous amount of lube and pressed them in. Two at once.
The bottom's eyes closed tightly for a second, trying to accommodate dad's thick sausage fingers in his hole, but the familiarity of the feeling and his own experience made that process very short. Soon enough, he was openly sighing, sometimes even moaning softly.
"Pete? Can I be honest with ya?" Henry asked, not stopping his movements.
Peter opened his eyes, but only nodded, finding it hard to phrase words, let alone sentences right now.
"It do make my hair gray faster, but still... I appreciate how forward ya are. I envy it, even. Only a few people can go and get what they want. So I'm proud of ya for bein' all open 'bout it." Henry smiled.
The lust-filled fog cleared for a bit in Peter's mind as he processed his dad's words. But shortly after, he started smiling too. It truly warmed his heart more than anything to see his dad so happy. Because of him...
"Thanks, pa. I try. Now, to be forward, can I tell ya how much I missed yar pecker in my pucker? C'mon, pops, skip the fingers and press it in!" Peter spread his legs further than they already were.
"C'mon, Pete, I don't wanna hurt ya. But that reminds me - did ya even clean out today?" Henry frowned.
"Oh! Well... uh... nah? Just some shallow cleanin' in the shower. That a problem?" Peter chuckled awkwardly.
"Well... I guess we'll just have to prepare for surprises, if anythin'. It's aight." Henry shrugged.
While dad tried to be responsible and considerate, Peter could see his dad's urges very clearly. Even he was just a human. And he really had been right - the outline of his erect head, faint as it may have been, was nevertheless visible through his cargo pants.
Henry started scissoring his son's ass with his fingers, spreading the hole out slowly, but surely. Thankfully, it was already stretchy enough from the years of play it had experienced. His other hand played with his zipper, getting stuck. Dad was clearly in a hurry.
But eventually, he managed to undo it. His thick cock, already leaking copiously, was freed from its confines and right away lubed up generously. It glistened in the flickering light from the TV as Henry placed his dick at the entrance.
"May I?" he asked, barely restraining himself.
"Push it in, pops!" Peter egged him on.
That was all the permission needed. With one, fluid motion Henry sheathed himself fully. Peter's insides fit him like a glove. It was so tight and warm and moist and... familiar. The walls clenched as if trying to pull him in even deeper. His legs were already shaking and his breathing grew erratic as he tried to calm himself.
"That's it, pops!" Peter said, trying to catch his breath too.
He had been just as affected, his eyes having rolled back for a bit as the push came. And now the stretchy feeling, pushing against his insides. Fuck, it felt good to have a cock up his ass again. Well, not just any cock. Dad's cock.
"Ya feel real good, hun. Here. I'll start movin', yea?" dad asked, already bucking his hips a bit.
Fuck, he wouldn't be able to do this for long. His balls were already churning. It's as if they had recognized they were in his beloved's ass - right where they wanted to be. They knew they were home.
"Son... I ain't gonna last. Sorry." Henry apologized preemptively, barely catching his breath.
"Ya think I am!?" Peter exclaimed, panting as well.
Henry grunted, grabbing his son's pants and underwear and yanking them upwards. A dripping mast was revealed as it stood proudly, leaking all over Peter's shirt. Then the old man wrapped his calloused hand around it and began stroking - in the rhythm of his motions.
"Oh... Oh f-... I can't anymore... I'm sorry..." Henry sighed out.
Their bodies were meeting up at breakneck speed, both of them unaware how they had even escalated this quickly. But with the same alacrity, gushing hot cum shot into Peter's bowels as Henry nearly toppled over on the couch, his hips cramping up.
Peter wasn't too far behind as both the insistent stroking and the spreading warmth inside coaxed his own release out of him. It shot over his clothes, some of it landing on the couch as well, covering them with white stains.
They touched as Henry's body finally gave in, result in him falling onto Peter. His son eagerly embraced him into his arms, keeping him close as they tried - and failed - to come down from their euphoric high. It was quick, sure, but it was long overdue for the both of them. They hadn't even thought about uncoupling, enjoying the feeling of being connected.
The couch would definitely need a cleaning again after today and yesterday, but it was a worthy price to pay. Sweat pooled between their bodies from their short exertion, cooling them both down and mixing with Peter's release. All sticky, their skin clung together firmly - like glue. But they weren't bothered by their current state - quite the opposite. In that moment, they would readily choose to stick to each other like this forever.
Their eyes were locked in a mutual stare, neither of them wanting to tear away. The uncomfortable, clammy feeling caused them to press together more, as if trying to claim the heat of the other body, combating the cooling moisture. Lips met once more, tongues finding their way around each other, swirling and trailing lines. Wet squelches came whenever the two mouths split apart, only to crash back together in a few seconds of breathing time.
An impromptu make-out session had not been planned by Peter, but he considered it more than welcome. Especially since dad seemed to be equally into it. But this bliss was interrupted as Henry's cock got so soft it plopped out of his boy's hole with a loud, wet sound. The semen slowly started dribbling out of the winking anus, only serving to dirty the couch more. This, to Henry, was the sign to stop.
With both of his arms, he quickly hoisted Peter and himself up into a sitting position, rotating his son onto his lap so that he was facing the TV too.
"All good, Pete? No pain or anythin', hun?" Henry asked, gently caressing the hairy cheeks pressing into him.
"Yea. More than good. Fantastic." Peter laughed as he leaned back for another short kiss.
"Good. Glad to hear it. Ya were fantastic too, hun. Wanna stay with me for a bit and watch the tele? We can go shower a bit later, hm?" Henry said as he reached for the graciously placed root beer.
"Sure, honeybuns. What's on?" Peter asked, adjusting himself to get comfortable.
"I forgot, honestly. We can watch somethin' ya'd like, hm? My brain is still too damn fogged up to really pay attention." Henry chuckled, taking a swig.
The bottle entered Peter's field of vision, tilting slightly, Henry's hand aiming for his son's lips. The younger man didn't hesitate before taking a mighty amount of the delicious liquid into his mouth, expanding his cheeks. Turning around, he pressed into his dad's face again. Their tongues met as the liquid got passed from Peter to Henry, the old man gulping it down readily. After they separated, an adoring look appeared on dad's face.
"Yer really gonna be the end of me, son."
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