It's possible that some men can handle fame and keep their head on their shoulders. My dad wasn't one of those men. NFL hall of fame material, Stan McCullough was one of the league's star quarterbacks until his retirement at 37. Movie-star handsome, he also had that "nice guy" image that led to a bajillion endorsement deals and paved the way for his transition to being a TV sports commentator.
Deep down, Dad was a good man, but the reality was miles from the nice guy persona he projected. A major philanderer, he cheated on Mom a lot, sometimes she knew, sometimes she didn't. That made me mad and resentful, and the ultimate divorce didn't help. All of a sudden, I was living with Mom and seeing Dad like four times a year.
Especially because it became clear I wasn't going to be an elite athlete. God knows I tried. I lifted nonstop from the age of 14, went to camps, passed out from the heat in summer practices and brushed myself off when I came to. But I didn't have the arm and deep down I didn't have the drive. Dad never said a thing to show disappointment, but he stopped investing the extra time with me.
Somehow, I couldn't hate him. Dad was a guy who was hard to hate. Crazy charisma. And he was my idea of Man. Athletic, super muscular 6'5" body that he kept in tip top shape even deep into his 40s. Confident and supremely able. When he sensed I was pissed off, he'd flash that killer smile of his and wink.
He knew. Knew it was tough growing up as Stan McCullough's kid. Sure, it was cool being rich, and I was popular at school and even at college. But no one saw me as Matt McCullough, just Stan's son. Even when I started dating guys, they were into me because of Dad, or because they saw Dad's sexual charisma reflected in me.
I tried to ride it. I had inherited a lot of Dad's looks, and I had a great body from playing football. While I didn't know how hung my father was, I had a big cock that probably got passed down from him, too. But I never inherited his confidence.
"You getting your dick wet?" he asked crudely when I was still a high school jock. After the divorce, Dad tried treating me more as a buddy than a son.
"Come on, Dad," I objected.
"You're a McCullough," he said with a conspiratorial grin. "Bet you fuckin' are." The cursing was freer now, too.
****
I tried not to become my Dad.
I only had sex with guys I wanted to date seriously. There was a frat guy who was just my speed. Kevin, hunky and one year older than me. Muscular but not as muscular as me. Total bro when we hung out in public but a hungry bottom behind closed doors. He had major guilt about that, but I let him see my sensitive side, and that helped. I got into being his emotional support and doting on him. Almost love bombing. Dude loved it, and I loved doing it.
It worked until Kevin kept wanting to meet my father. Wouldn't take the hint that this was a sore spot for me, and wouldn't stop asking questions what it was like growing up as the son of a famous NFLer. I dumped Kevin the day before winter break.
And that evening I went on the apps and found an older man. Dad's age. Not Stan McCullough hot, but pretty close. An actual state trooper with a secret life. I only found out after chatting with him for an hour. Just as he found I was cherry and interested in losing my virginity.
I was shaking the whole drive over to this place. When I saw him open the door, my nerves went away, partly. This dude was smoking hot. Shorter than me but bigger, aged very nicely with salt and pepper stubble to match the buzz cut hair. He was masculine and gruff and yet smooth in a way he led me in and put me at ease.
"You're crazy hot, you know?" he asked.
"Thanks. You, too," I replied.
We kissed. Trooper was a better kisser than Kevin by far. Experienced and sensual. He guided me to the couch and we made out. I was surprised he didn't just ravish me, but he said he liked to take his time. We slowly stripped down. I had the bigger dick, but Trooper was nicely thick. Probably the right size to break me in, and I told him as much.
"You're an eager pup, huh?"
I blushed. "I told myself I don't bottom. But, yeah, I admit I've been thinking about it. A lot."
He took his time. We went to his bed and gave me my first rim job. Then he lubed and worked up to three fingers inside me. "You got this, buddy," he urged when he finally pressed his thick raw meat past my tight ring.
It stung, but I needed to experience this. I needed to have every shitty emotion fucked out of me. I looked up into Trooper's handsome face, the aging lines clearer in the low lamp light. Looking every bit the 49 years listed on his profile. Masculine as fuck. Long dicking me now. And a sexy grin on that gruff face.
"You like it, buddy," he said.
Damn, he was right. I was rock hard and my insides were singing.
"God yes," I said. Embarrassed but turned on. Trooper drizzled some lube on my prick and then resumed my first shafting. I could tell by his thrusts and the look on his face that he was close to coming. I gripped my dick and stroked off to get there with him. I did. It was glorious, my first prostate-powered orgasm. I gave it up and clung to him.
We did it again that night and once more the next morning.
By the time I flew down to my Mom's place for the holidays, I felt strangely proud and relieved, even if I knew I wouldn't hear from Trooper again unless it was a booty call.
****
Dad sure wasn't letting moss grow after the divorce. Each time I visited there was a new lady friend. Sorority girl type or just out of college. Pretty, blond, nice tits. I'd say Dad has a type, but it's probably every ex-pro-jock's type.
Then by the time I visited summer after junior year, there was a new "buddy" instead. College athlete. A blond, good looking young man named Jason, who seemed super chummy with Dad in a way that suggested something going on between them. I didn't want to believe it at first, since Dad was purely a ladykiller. But one night the new buddy stayed over, and I heard unmistakable sounds of sex from the bedroom down the hall.
Dad was chipper as fuck the rest of the stay. He did acknowledge the elephant in the room. "I figure you don't mind your old man having fun," he said when it was just us in his home gym. Jesus, for a middle aged man he was immature.
"Course not, Dad," I said. "You know I'm gay, right?"
He shook his head in surprise. "You lie about those girls?"
I'd embellished a lot of my dating life to impress date. "Yeah, Dad, I lied about them."
There was an amused look on his face, and I wished to god I didn't find him so attractive. "You should man up, Matty." Only Dad called me Matty.
It was said with a smile and a wink, but it still rubbed me the wrong way. "I guess I spend too much energy trying to impress people I shouldn't."
He grimaced. "That's a dig at me, I take it."
I sighed. Even through the divorce and my teenage years, I never spoke up against my father. I didn't have the heart to, now. "It was, Dad. Sorry."
He clapped my shoulder and walked past. "I guess I deserve it, kiddo. You finish up here, OK, I'll rustle up some lunch." Dad was upset. I'd never seen him quiet like this. I felt glad at first, like I'd gotten back at him, then I felt ashamed. My workout was lousy, but I didn't want to wrap up early.
Dad was great the rest of my stay though. Jason didn't come over the next night, and my father was attentive hanging out. Opening, asking about my coming out, if I had a boyfriend and all that. I told him about Kevin the Frat Guy.
He talked about his bisexuality, too. "Just seems to work better sometimes. Dudes are just easier," he explained. "A new one in every city, it seems." Dad was on the road a lot during the season. "But I guess I don't need to tell a dude like you," he smirked.
I hinted, more than hinted, that I really played the field. I don't know why I lied about that. I guess I was still trying to impress him.
****
The next time I came to visit, there was no Jason. Derek wasn't as cute, but he had muscle and a super deep voice.
"Dude's big right?" Dad asked in a whisper as we went to one of the sceney frat-party bars along the beach. "Turns out he's been crushed out on me since like forever." Good thing I was driving cause Dad was way tipsy from the day drinking we'd all been doing. He misread my expression for buddy bonding. "Like shooting fish in a barrel, I tell ya."
Jesus, Dad was a schmuck. But I guess Derek was getting the whole Stan McCullough fantasy, so it was a win-win.
Later that night, I passed out from the long travel day and woke up in the middle of the night, thirsty as hell. As I made my way to the kitchen I heard their voices.
"Oh fuck, Stan!" The voice was coming from the back patio.
Then my dad's laugh. "Quiet, buddy... you'll wake Matt up."
"Shhh!" Derek laughed back. They were drunk, still.
I knew I shouldn't look out back. Of course I did. The lights by the hot tub were low, but Dad was completely naked. I knew my old man was crazy hot, but seeing him bared and erect was just so viscerally hot. Indeed, I inherited the McCullough cock, which stood straight up from his crotch. Throbbing as Derek leaned in and began sucking him.
I watched that muscle jock make love to my father's dick. Struggling with the girth and length but doing a respectable job on it. Gradually working Dad up into a deep cum. Watching Dad in orgasm was one of the most beautiful things in the world. He was no longer laying on the charm or doing his nice guy schtick. He was a very sexual man in pure need and pleasure.
I stepped away and walked back to my room. It took two tugs for me to release my load onto my belly. "Fuck!" I hissed after.
****
I played cool. But I decided to enjoy my attraction to Dad. If he could be buddy buddy with me, I could bond with him in this messed up way.
"So, Matty, we gotta get you laid," he said as we wrapped up a workout. "What your type?"
I tried not to be shocked. Because deep down I wasn't. This was Dad being Dad. "Good body, cute, can carry on a conversation," I replied.
"Conversations are overrated," he deadpanned.
"Maybe."
"You're not dating anyone are you?" he asked, suspicious I was holding back from him.
"Nah, Dad. I did see a guy some last semester, but he graduated... I guess it had run its course."
"Tough shakes." He was genuinely sympathetic.
"Yeah," I said.
"That what you really want, son? A serious relationship?"
"Yeah, Dad, I do."
He gave me a nod and patted my shoulder. "You're a good looking young man. You'll have those dudes at your feet. You know that right?"
I actually blushed.
****
That night Derek came over. His T-shirt was even smaller than before and made his muscle look huge. "Hey bro," he said as I answered the door. "Your dad home?"
"Um, yeah," I said. I had expected this. "He's back in his room."
Derek gave me a forced smile and walked past.
I'd been watching a movie with the sound low, and now I couldn't fucking concentrate. My dick was getting hard. Again, the telltale noises of fucking came from down the hall.
It was about fifteen minutes total when Derek stepped out. He was wearing his shorts but no T-shirt. That muscle was off the charts. Dad was probably bigger built, but the 5'9" body made Derek look like a fireplug. Completely waxed smooth.
"Hey bro... your dad says you can use some cheering up."
What the fuck?!
"Yeah?" I asked, dumbly.
He shrugged. "Break ups suck, dude. You should have fun."
My dick was already chubbed, but the naughtiness of this situation was eating away at my better judgment. I put aside my now closed laptop and spread my legs.
And like that Muscle Derek walked over and got down between them.
I lacked Dad's sexual confidence, but I was going to reap its benefits. Derek gave good head. Better than I'd ever had actually. Not too fast, just working me up. I ran my fingers through his hair. I wondered if he was a better cocksucker than Jason.
He spit me out.
I watched as he slid his shorts down and kick them off. His dick was hard but that wasn't the focus. Instead he straddled my lap and reached back to my big dong and guided me into place.
"FUCK!" I gasped, way too loud.
Derek grinned. "Dude, you're so hard. Stan said you needed to get laid." Already he was riding me up and down.
This was crazy town, but the wildest part was I could feel Dad's cum on my cock. That very realization had me cumming. I pulled Derek into a kiss. I didn't even know if he was the kissing type, but he didn't resist. Nor did he object when I urged him to switch positions on the couch for round two.
I was more in control of this fuck. I channeled Dad. Or at least the Dad I imagined. Sexual. Powerful. All Man.
I fucked a load out of Muscle Derek and dumped a second in his hot guts. I pulled out slowly with a grin.
"Thanks, bro... I definitely feel a lot better." I said.
Derek gave a knowing smirk as I got up and picked up my shorts to make my way back to my room, while he did the same, returning back to Dad's.
****
The next morning Derek was gone. And as we had breakfast, Dad gave a knowing smile.
"Told ya, right?"
I gave a silent shrug. It was awkward as hell, but I was basking in the universe force that was Stan McCullough.
"You're stubborn like your daddy," he laughed. "Never can admit when you aren't right."
"Yeah, I guess."
****
I became a manwhore. Freshly graduated from college, I moved to San Francisco and had lots of meaningless sex. Lining up a blow job after work. Fucking on the weekend. I'd bottom about once a month, but I was enjoying playing the hunky jock top in the big city. And guys enjoyed me playing that role, too.
I had a job, a decent one in marketing. I realized it was hard to have the drive when I had McCullough money waiting for me, but the smart part of me realized not to count on anything in life until it was in hand.
I still thought about that State Trooper who took my cherry and tried to find men who had that mojo. Some were close but fell short. Others weren’t even near.
And, yeah, I was still thinking way too much about my father.
****
My mom got remarried. My stepdad was great. A doctor, uptight socially, but a real compassionate guy. The opposite of Dad. It was a low-key wedding, a second for both of them.
That same Fall, Dad's 50th birthday came. It was a big celebration. No jock dudes in tow, just his old friends from the league and his buddies from the Florida city he lived in. There was a new sorority girl in the crowd. She was classy enough to be discreet, but I knew Dad was balling her.
It was fun seeing all of Dad's old teammates. They remembered me when I was young, and enjoyed seeing me all grown up. That was the part of the NFL life I liked. The good memories.
It was all at a luxury hotel, and I was glad I had my own room. I let loose and had a lot of fun. It was great to see Dad have fun, too.
Things happen when you least expect it because one of Dad's old NFL buddies started hitting on me. Darius, a strapping, ex-linebacker. He's slimmed down since his playing years but was still big all over, muscle and girth. Dark chocolate skin and a killer smile.
We chatted and the eye contact made me think something else was going on. Indeed, Darius began hitting on me, complementing my looks asking if I had a girlfriend, that sort of thing.
"No girlfriend," I said. "Not my thing."
He leaned. "Maybe you can show me what your thing is?"
I looked out onto the dance floor. The crowd was winding down. Dad was off in the corner taking and flirting with the sorority chick. Ladykiller McCullough was back. Meanwhile, I felt this 40-something ex-NFL's strong hand on my back.
"Yeah," I nodded with a grin.
This was easy. Darius was the last man I expected to fool around with dudes, but you never know. Up in his room he was a surprisingly smooth lover, soft caressed and deep kisses as we stripped down and made out on the hotel bed.
"I want inside your fine ass, stud," he said, finally looking at me with expectation.
He wasn't bigger hung than me, but he was bigger than any I'd taken. I was nervous but told him if he went easy, he could fuck me.
Dude was a master asseaster and even better prepping me. By the time he penetrated me I was ready for him, girth and all.
It was incredible. Years after the State Trooper THIS was what I had been seeking out. The combination of soft sensual lovemaking with 250-plus pounds of ex-linebacker beef on top of me was a mindblowing combination. Particularly as his lovemaking became less sensual, more urgent.
Darius fucked the cum out of me hands free. I clung to him as he got his own nut with a deep, heavy growl.
Afterwards, he lay in bed naked and soft-cocked and watched me get dressed again. My room was two floors down so it wasn't like it was a true walk of shame. But it felt like it.
"Stan McCullough's boy... well, fuck me."
Goddamnit, I was always gonna be Dad's kid.
****
I spent next Christmas at Dad's. Two guys were shacking up with him now, or at least over there like they lived there. Brad and Marshall. Florida had a seemingly unlimited supply of fratty jock and ex-jock types. These guys were maybe a year younger than me.
Dad acted like it was all normal. I did too. I still looked up to him as the ultimate Man, but he also acted like a kid who'd never been told he can't get everything he wants. The first night was me going out to dinner with him, just us, bonding and catching up. Him working his charm on me, like I was one of those frat dudes. I resented how well it worked.
Particularly because the man was just as fine in his 50s as in his 40s. Salt and pepper really coming in, ex-QB muscle still hard and tanned, dressing too young for his age. Everyone in town seemed to know him, and he played to that.
When we got back to his place, Brad and Marshall were playing videogames, but Dad announced he was calling it an evening. "See you tomorrow, Matty?"
"Yeah," I said, giving him a good night hug.
And like obedient puppies, the fratty dudes turned off the game and followed Dad to his bedroom, shutting the door behind them.
Fuck.
I was moody as fuck the next day.
Dad knew why. He didn't say anything, but he made a point of doing stuff together that day. Beach in December wasn't as warm as I expected but it was a treat.
"You're looking good these days, Son," he said. "What's your routine?"
We talked fitness. Dad gave me pointers. "I have a strength coach who can work out with you while you're here."
"I'm not an elite athlete, Dad," I laughed.
He grinned. "It's about getting tail, Son. You got a great bod, for real... you could be calling the shots."
I chubbed in my shorts. I was under Dad's spell. Stan McCullough's kid. "If you think so," I said with a smile.
"I know so."
****
The afternoon beer helped my mood. We ate dinner back at his place, all four of us, me, Dad, Brad and Marshall. Talking about the football season and Dad's trip the next day to cover one of the games. Guy talk.
"My flight's not too early and it's a nice night, fellas, what do you say we crank up the hot tub?"
"I'll get it started, Mr. M," Brad said as he got up from the table. Marshall worked to clear the dishes.
"Wanna get changed, Son?" Dad asked.
We met in the back patio in about fifteen minutes. Dad looked amazing in his swim trunks, and I had to admit Brad and Marshall has great bods. Ripped and jocky. Dad had good taste.
We settled in and drank margaritas out of plastic cups. And when we were done, Brad went to fetch another round.
Brad had barely slipped back into the bubbling water when I saw Dad reach underneath. Kicking his legs, he held up the wet trunks and tossed them aside on the deck. "That's better," he said.
Brad and Marshall followed suit eagerly.
"If you want, son," he said to me. Eye contact heavy. I hadn't felt this naughty since Darius Cook powerfucked me in that hotel room. I gulped and slid off my swimsuit. I was rock hard beneath the water. I didn't dare look to see how these guys were.
We talked more, small talk. Until it became quiet. Dad looked at Brad. "Come here," he whispered.
Brad crossed over and began kissing Dad. Marshall was coming to Dad's right flank.
I watched, so turned on. A little freaked out, but mostly feeling a sexual excitement I'd never felt before.
Dad hoisted himself on the ledge and I saw that big McCullough cock, sticking erect and ready for service. Marshall took first duty sucking him while Brad kissed Dad's hairy nuts.
My father's eyes were on me. "You want your dick sucked, Son?" he asked.
"Yeah," I gulped. But Dad could read the nervousness in my eyes and hear it in my voice.
"Or...?" He didn't finish. He didn't have to.
I moved forward. Brad grinned when he saw my head approach. "Fuck yeah, dude," he hissed. He nudged Marshall off, who had an equally goofy grin.
Time stopped as I leaned in. Dad's dick was heavier than I expected. I licked the head and could taste his precum. Salty. Then I took him into my mouth.
I felt hands on me. I felt lips against my neck, and Dad's hand on my head while I blew him. I was sucking a true Man. The most powerful sexual presence I'd ever encountered. It encouraged me to relax my gag reflex and swallow more of that big dad dick.
"Fuck, Son!" I heard. Dad was cumming, surprised at the quickness of his orgasm.
I swallowed. His load was a lot. When I pulled off, Brad was there to suck on the dribbles while Marshall kissed me.
I almost came then and there myself.
Dad got out of the water, and I worried I'd fucked it all up. But Brad and Marshall had their easygoing goofy grins and now were making out with one another. I was about to go to the guest room, but I was too horny. I still needed to get off.
I jerked as I scooted up to them. They opened up their embrace to let me in. Lips attacking my neck again. "Bro that was so hot watching you suck your Dad," Brad said.
I gave it up. Cumming hard as they worked to follow suit.
I was truly embarrassed now that I'd cum. I muttered a thanks and scrambled to get out and dry off. I stopped to piss and brush my teeth then made a bee line to the guest room.
I was hyperventilating in bed, until a calm came over me. And before long, I fell asleep.
****
I roused early. Within ten minutes I heard a knock. Dad peeked in.
"You up?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said.
He stepped in. Butt naked, though my view was mostly of his hardon. Dad has some very firm morning wood. It took me a second to see that he had a big bottle of lube in his hand. "I have to be at the airport in three hours, but I figured we had some time...."
"Yeah," I said, pulling up the sheets.
Dad grinned and slid in.
"You really have turned into a handsome fucker, you know," he said, drawing me into a kiss. It was times like this I realized just how in shape Dad kept.
I grunted and held him. Needier than I wanted to be, but Dad had my back. He rolled me over and got on top of him. I wasn't a virgin and Dad didn't treat me like one. After kissing for a minute, he got the lube and slicked up my hole and his big dick. And put my legs on his shoulders.
"Yes," I hissed. Dad's a big man and the penetration was intense.
"So fuckin handsome," Dad grunted, pushing deeper.
We went back and forth. First it was all about Dad, and he set the pace. Then he focused on slower strokes that would work for me. Then it became about him again.
He orgasmed first, but my own followed. I was accepting my own father's seed inside me. It was all magical.
He seemed quiet as he lay next to me. "You're my son and I love you, Matt. You know that, right?"
"Yeah, Dad." I said. "I love you too."
He gave me a small smile. "I hope you find a good man in your life. Someone better than I was to your mother."
"I hope so too, Dad." I wasn't trying to cut him down or get back at him. Just being honest. "But in the meantime that was the hottest fuckin sex of my life."
He laughed. "You're a McCullough, all right." He patted my thigh. "I gotta get showered up and ready... you gonna watch the game tomorrow?"
"Of course."
He slid out of bed. "I'll be back Monday morning. Make yourself at home. Oh, and Derek keeps asking about you. Seems you made a big impression." Back was the conspiratorial tone. Either Dad wanted me to be a top, or thought I had issues about bottoming for him.
It took me a minute to place who he meant. "You mean Muscles?"
Dad grinned. "The very one. He bartends at the Brick Tavern if you wanna hit him up."
"Maybe I will," I said. At that moment I wasn't looking for my next lay.
I got dressed and found coffee made for me in the kitchen. Brad and Marshall had gone, I could tell. It was just me at Dad's place for a couple of days. He looked amazing in his business casual when he stepped into the kitchen, garment bag on his shoulder.
"Ok, Matty..." he said.
We hugged and he gave me some soft-tongue kiss for goodbye. And a final wink before he was out the door.
Sometimes it was OK being Stan McCullough's kid.
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