Growing up my dad and I were never close. Our relationship always strained, it never felt like we had much of a relationship. When I realized I was gay, it took me long time to come out, mostly because I was afraid of my dad would act. Eventually he found out, and things got even weirder. Without going into details, we had a seemingly okay relationship but nothing real or meaningful. I craved something from him, anything that would make our relationship better in any way possible. I needed him to want me. This continued all through high school, and culminated the summer after my 18th birthday, waiting to go to college. My deepest desires surfaced, and I could never go back.
One day my dad got back from work, and let me know my mom would be getting home late. He offered to buy us dinner, but said he needed to shower first because it was a long day.
I shrugged it off, and focused back on my tv and heard him go upstairs to his room to shower. After I heard the shower shut off began to crave pizza and decided I should go ask what he was getting so I could pitch the idea of pizza. As I approached his door something kept me from knocking, I thought I glimpsed a shadow from the gap between the door and the floor. See this house had above average gaps there, and it allowed you to see more than what you’d expect. A deep instinctive curiosity overwhelmed me, and without thinking I crouched down, getting as close to the floor as possible to peek under the door.
Nothing could’ve prepared me for what I saw my dad was laying there, parallel to the door so I could see his whole body. Butt naked with his cock in one hand and phone in the other . I realized he didn’t have his glasses on, and probably couldn’t see further than his phone. I sat there amazed and stunned, watching in awe as my dad played with beautiful dick. He was thicker than me, but about the same length and my balls were bigger. His bush was well trimmed and dark, matching his beard stubble. I looked at my crotch and realized at some point my hand had down to it, rubbing through my pants. Quietly I laid down and pulled my cock out, barely taking an eye off my dad. We’d stroke together, experiencing carnal pleasure as father and son, all without him knowing. This happened several times as my mom began to work late more often. I memorized his routine and began to fantasize about all the ways it might end if he knew what I was doing.
I wanted him to be simultaneously disgusted and aroused by the depravity of his son. I wanted to imagine him catching me in the act, screaming my name, furious and disappointed but yet still so fucking horny that he can’t think straight. So fucking horny that he manages to convince himself that he believes the best way to punish me is to give me what I want. That the best way to punish me is to feed me his cock and use my mouth as a toy to pump full with his load. Even though, deep down he knows that this will only make me want him more, and even deeper down he hopes it’ll happen again.
Others times, I imagine the opposite. I imagine him catching me on purpose, having known for months. When he found out he was shocked, but he felt like maybe he owed it to me after our poor relationship. Eventually he realized he had come to rely on my company while he masturbated, getting more and more aroused by the thought of his own son. He started picturing giving his cock to me, his son, and feeding me the load that created me. One day he can’t take it anymore, he needs to feed his son. He opens the door and smiles, pulling me in for a hug and then more. Gently grasping my head and connecting our lips. Working his way into my mouth, slow and passionate at first but beginning to ramp up until we’re passionately engaged in a battle with our tongues. All the while rubbing my hands up and down his body, eventually landing on the cock that made me. Holding my dad’s dick, gently squeezing and stroking him, making sure to get his shaft and his balls. Pulling my mouth away from my dad’s, I slowly kiss his body and work my way down. My mouth stops at his shaft, and I look up, “Can I, dad?” I’d ask him. He’d smile and nod, looking proud, then I’d feel his head begin to part my lips as his cock enters my mouth. I could worship him for hours.
But sadly, this never happens. My fantasies remain just that. Fantasies. It’s not all for nothing though. I continue to watch my dad jerkoff, listening to him shudder and moan quietly while my hand rapidly strokes my own cock. I stifle my horned up whimpers and as we continue to stroke our cocks together I relish in the fact that we’re both engulfed in animalistic pleasure, just separated by a door. After what feels like the quickest eternity of pleasure with my dad, his pace speeds up. His breath quickens and his moans, I can barely make out the words, “I’m about to cum,” before I see the ropes begin to shoot. They splash as they hit his stomach and a crane to get the best view. Slowing down, I see waves of ecstasy crash over him.
As much as I want to stay and blow myself right then and there, I know the dangers so I quietly sneak off to my room. Stripping completely down, I grab an old pair of underwear and begin to stroke. Standing over my bed, I picture my dad stroking his cock, getting horny just like his son. I picture his face in pleasure, and the thick load of cum that he shot. “Oh, fuck dad,” I moan as I shoot cum, unloading into my underwear. My body vibrates with release, and I’ve never felt so relaxed. The feeling is short lived as I hear my dad come downstairs. I rush to clean up and discard the evidence right as a knock hits my door.
“Hey bud, I’m thinking pizza for dinner tonight, I’ll be back!” He yells before I can respond to his knock. “Ok!” I yell back after too long of a pause. I pray he’s clueless as reality comes crashing down, my dick still throbbing.
As much as I hate to admit it to myself, in this moment of clarity, I still hope this isn’t the last time I get to watch my dad masturbate.
Stay turned for a second part!
