My name is Dylan Cooper. I´m nineteen years old and in my second year of college.
I love reading gay erotica. In fact I’m kind of obsessed with it. Maybe that’s why I started wondering about my dad. His name is Stephen and he’s pretty cool. He’s a very successful lawyer, works out every morning, plays video games with me from time to time and, most important in this story, he’s a hardcore motorcycle lover, so much that he recently bought himself a Ducati motorbike. (You can guess how pissed my Mom was when he did that.)
This is a story about what happened after my dad had an accident.
My mom is a judge, and always busy. One Saturday she left for a convention of some sort. I wasn´t doing anything and my dad was off as well, so it was supposed to be a pretty chill day. After my mom left he told me he was going to cruise around on his Ducati.
I told him to be careful.
About an hour and a half later I got a phone call from my dad saying he was involved in a “minor” accident. I immediately sat up and asked him what happened and if he was okay. He said that an EMT was holding his phone up to his ear because he thought both of his wrists were broken.
“Oh my god! What hospital are they taking you to?”
“St. Mary’s.”
“I’ll be right there.”
A while later I was knocking on a hospital room door. When I went in and saw him with two big bandages on his hands I freaked out.
“Damn, dad, what happened?”
He sighed and said, “I tried to, you know, do a wheelie.”
“Are you serious? I thought a car hit you or something. Who do you think you are, fucking Evel Knievel?”
“What can I say? I thought I could do it, but…”
I was going to yell at him some more when we heard another knock. It was the doctor.
“Took a look at your X-rays,” he said.
“They´re both broken, right, doctor?” my dad asked, looking gloomy.
“Actually no, only the right one is broken, the left is just a bad sprain.” the doctor explained. “You won´t need surgery, but you’ll be in a cast for, about three weeks, give or take a few days. Left one should be okay sooner, though.”
“Damn. Three weeks. Well, at least I don´t need surgery.” My dad turned to me after the doctor left. “Did you call your mother?”
“No, I wanted to find out exactly how serious it was. ”
“Good, let’s just not call her.”
“You don´t want me to call Mom?”
“She’s just going to come rushing back. Or she’ll stay there, worrying the whole time. She´s already under a lot of stress. I’m not in danger. We’ll manage somehow.”
I suspected he didn’t want to get an earful from Mom about how stupid this whole motor-cycle thing was, but kept my mouth shut. Luckily it was July and I was on vacation so I could stay home to help.
An hour later we went home, my dad with a cast on his right wrist and a bandage on his left. He was sleepy because of the painkillers and went straight to bed, still in his clothes.
I woke up early the next morning. When I checked in on dad he was still sleeping, so I went down to make myself some coffee. After maybe half an hour I heard him coming down the stairs. He looked kind of wrinkled, but okay other than his hands.
“Hey dad, sleep well?”
“Yeah, those were some strong painkillers.” He stretched, forgetting about his condition, and winced because of the pain. Suddenly he blushed.
“Dylan. I, um, have to pee.”
I stared at him for a few seconds. Honestly I’d forgotten that he was going to need help with everything, and I mean everything.
Then I started getting a little excited. Like I said before, I loved reading gay erotica on Literotica and Nifty. I especially liked the taboo stories about first time gay encounters,
Older men fucking twinks and stuff like that. It was my deep dark secret–nobody knew about it.
“Okay. Let’s do it,” I said, my heart beating a little faster.
We went in and I asked him about what to do next.
“I´m not sure. Damn, I didn’t think about this,” he muttered, blushing.
“How about I just pull your zipper down, Dad?” I couldn´t believe I had just said it.
“Just the zipper?”
“Yeah. That way we don´t have to pull your shorts down and up again.”
“Okay. I´m so sorry about this.”
When I moved my hand down to his shorts and found his zipper I could feel my heartbeat in my ears. I slowly pulled his zipper down and opened his fly.
“Dad. I have to reach in,” I told him, almost whispering.
“I guess you have to,” he said, embarrassed.
I located the fly of his boxers with my finger. I undid the front button and reached inside. The first thing I felt was hair. Then as I moved my hand lower I felt his cock. I grabbed and pulled it slowly out.
When I saw it I think I stopped breathing altogether. Dad had a big one. It was long and thick, at least five or six inches soft, with a beautiful pink head. As I was looking at it I felt my asshole clench, as if it was wondering what it would feel like up there. Holy shit, dad. I didn´t know you were hung like a fucking horse.
This may have sound cliche, but it looked really big.
“Okay, Dad, whenever you´re ready.”
He didn´t utter a word the whole he pissed.
“Need a shake?” I asked, trying to make light of the weirdness.
“I´m done, thanks,” he said, flushing a little.
“All right, then.” I put his cock back in his pants and zipped him up. “You see, it wasn´t that bad.”
“Picked up the paper yet?” he asked, clearly trying to change the subject.
“Downstairs in the kitchen.”
He left. I stayed behind until I was sure he wasn’t going to come back. I pulled my cock out, grabbed a handy jar of Vaseline as lube, and started jerking off over the sink.
“Holy shit Dad, you have such a big cock,” I panted. “Fuck me hard. Mom will never know.” I just thought of him bending me over and making me his bitch.
As I said that I began to growl. Four thick ropes of cum shot out of the head of my cock and landed in the sink as I gasped.
This was going to be a fun two weeks.
Three days later
“Dad, you´re kind of starting to reek,” I told him as he sat down next to me in the living room.
“What? Come on, it´s not that bad,” he answered, chuckling a little.
“Cause you´re not the one smelling it. You can´t go two weeks without showering,” I told him, trying to sound stern.
Secretly I was dying to see his huge fucking cock again. I could see myself under the shower with him, lathering it all up with my bare hands, running them up and down his big thick shaft, cupping his big balls, and maybe, just maybe getting his pent-up load in my face. Fuck…..I was becoming obsessed.
Just thinking about all the possibilities was starting to give me a semi-hardon.
“Go upstairs and wait for me in the bathroom, I’m just going to change real quick.”
I quickly changed into shorts, not putting on a shirt, and went to my parent’s bedroom, where my dad was already waiting for me. I picked up a roll of tape.
“All right, Dad, first let’s cover up your hands.”
After his hands were wrapped up I took off his shirt and socks. I pulled off his shorts. That left his boxers for last, and at this point my heart was beating a little faster. I could clearly see the big bulge in front. I reached out and drew them down.
Every time I saw his cock it as if I was looking at it for the very first time. I shook my head and told myself to stop staring.
“Go and sit.”
I watched his broad shoulders and tight buns disappear into the bathroom before I followed him in. He was sitting on a little plastic bench inside the tub that I had bought soon after his accident. Fortunately the shower head in this bathroom was hand held, so it made things a lot easier.
I turned on the water and waited until it got warm before I wet him down. He closed his eyes, enjoying the sensation. I started by washing and rinsing his hair. Then I got the bottle of body wash and moved down his body, lathering him up, avoiding his crotch, though I couldn’t help taking a peek as I bent over him.
Dad was sitting almost at the edge of the bench. and I noticed his cock was a little swollen though still mostly soft. I loved how it was dangling over the edge of the seat. It looked so erotic. I wanted to get down on my knees and slowly start bobbing my mouth back and forth on it, but I was not going to do it–at least not yet.
“Okay, Dad, just one more part and we´re done,” I told him.
“Yeah, sure,” he muttered. His cock was getting harder.
He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, probably trying to think about something else in order to make his dick soft again. You were about to give me your delicious load, Dad, and you didn’t even know it.
I took a small soft towel that I’d brought with me, wetted it, put some of his body gel on it and started gently washing his pubic bone and his groin. Then I moved lower and gently cupped his balls with the cloth. I heard him let out a small gasp. I gently scrubbed them and rolled them around on my hand. They felt nice and heavy.
I wrung the towel out and gently placed it over his dangling cock. Then I started moving the towel slowly up and down, lathering up his shaft with the gel. My heart was almost beating out of my chest. Holy shit, I was giving my Dad a hand job. Unbelievable.
I started stroking his shaft a little faster. I looked up and noticed he had his eyes closed, frowning a little, his breathing quickening. I grabbed the shower head, took the towel off and rinsed off the soap. Then I started stroking him with both hands.
I could barely wrap both my hands around his shaft. After a few moments he looked down and said, in a strained voice, “Dylan…I think that’s enough.”
I just kept stroking up and down, up and down, on his thick glistening shaft, trying to re-member the different techniques I´d seen in porn videos.
“Dylan!” he said, louder. He was staring wide-eyed at my hands.
“Yes, dad?” I said, playing dumb.
“That´s…uh…that´s enough, I said.” He moaned, and I knew I had him.
“Dad. I know it´s been weeks, probably a month or more since you had sex with Mom. I know how hard and stressful your work can be, Do you really want me to stop?” I asked him in a very low, sensual voice, while staring at him dead in the eye.
“Uh…but I’m not…shit…” I knew he wanted to say he wasn´t gay, but couldn´t get the words out.
“It’s okay, Dad. We’re all alone in our house. No one is ever going to know,” I said, never stopping my hand job. My own dick was as hard as steel.
“What, Dylan. Are you gay?’ he asked, panting, trying to hold back his moans.
” I don´t know, but when I saw how big and gorgeous your cock was, I just couldn´t resist. I have to milk you.”
“WHAT?!! you´re out of your mind” he yelled
“Maybe but I know you don´t really want me to stop”
Both my hands were going up and down his big veiny shaft, he was so thick, I wondered how big it would feel up my asshole.
I looked right into his eyes. “Just let it happen, Dad. It’s okay. Cum for me.”
“Dylan…please” he protested weakly. I cupped his heavy balls, moving my finger down and teasing his perineum as well.
“Oh god” his moans echoing throughout the bathroom.
“Oh fuck…no…I´m….cumming…Dylan…please!” he said, screwing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. “I’m going to cum! DYLAN. Fuck!” he screamed.
I felt his cock getting thicker and harder in my hands and quickly aimed it at my face.
“Yes, Daddy, give me all your cum all over my face!”
He opened his eyes. “Ughh,” he growled as the first thick rope of cum hit my face. “Fuck yes…keep going…Ah…Keep stroking! Don’t fucking stop!” he yelled, as the first thick rope hit my face.
“Ughhhh..fuck” he growled. “FUCK YES, keep stroking little bitch”.
He shot five thick ropes coating my face white.
He was like a man possessed. I felt my dick come to life in my shorts, releasing my load as well. Seeing him giving into pleasure like that made me cream my pants. It was the first time I’d had an orgasm without touching my cock.
“Oh my god…holy shit…” he panted
“Fuck dad, you really needed that, huh?”
I slowed down my stroking on his softening cock and gently released it. He was staring wide-eyed at my cum-covered face, probably not believing what he was seeing.
I scooped a fingerful of his cum off my face and tasted it. “Nice, and very thick too. It’s going to be a very interesting two weeks, right, Dad?” I asked him, grinning.
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Hey people, PD here, I hope you like it. Like I said in my first story, I´m no writer, so try not to roast me that much in the comments. As always do let me know what you think, just try not to get triggered in the comments, I find it quite funny how mad some people get, it´s just a story, chill.
A big thanks for Ken Nitsua for editing my story.
Sincerely,
PD 🙂