Gay Erotic Stories

Me and Dad never get along with each other. "It’s the generation gap,” Dad’s always said, and I couldn’t agree more. I was 18, he was 43 and we really didn’t have that much in common: different ideas, tastes, thoughts... Sometimes we tried to talk but it always lasted just a few minutes and it hurt both of us, I know, but nothing could change that. A big generation gap indeed, considering also that I’m gay and he isn’t! Anyway, that summer I was ready to leave home, moving to another state to live with a couple of friends, and we decided to give our father-son relationship another chance and go camping in the mountains. Actually it was Dad’s idea, but I agreed since it was the last time I had to do what he wanted before leaving for good. Unfortunately we didn’t plan our little "vacation" very well, because we forgot to bring with us enough food for the two days we decided to stay away and also one of the sleeping bags. Up in the mountains can be pretty cold at night, as we found out when we went to sleep and discovered we had only one bag. "What can we do now?" I asked, annoyed. "It’s too late to return back home to fetch one." "Looks like we’ll have to share the one bag we have here," Dad answered, and he didn’t look particularly happy with the idea: neither was I, but we didn’t have any other choice. So we stripped down to our T-shirts and shorts and got into the bag. It’s uncomfortable to squeeze two adult bodies into a single sleeping bag, I can tell you, but we managed to do it and, after much turning around looking for a good position, we finally fell asleep back-to-back. In the middle of the night I woke up suddenly, hearing a strange sound near our tent, and when I was sure nothing was trying to attack us I turned around, trying one more time to find a comfortable position. It was then that I realized that Dad was already turned toward me, but I couldn’t change my position again, afraid to wake him up and start another one of our arguments, so I rested on my side, my arms straight down and rigid, my chest pressed slightly against his... and my cock reacted quickly! I didn’t want it to happen, but I was gay and Dad was a man after all, and a good-looking one too: Broad hairy chest, strong arms and legs, maybe a little too soft around the waist, but definitely a hot number! How could I think of my own father that way? I really tried not to get a hard-on, but it was like telling a river to run upstream. Then Dad moaned in his sleep and suddenly slipped both his arms around me! I tried to push him aside, but he held on. All I could do was remain motionless, hoping that he wouldn’t wake up and discover us in that embarrassing position. Dad buried his head into the space between my head and shoulder, brought our bodies together, and it was then that I felt his own cock pushing against mine! With my throbbing dick rubbing up to my Pop's hard bulge, I nearly creamed in my shorts right there... I couldn’t believe it! Maybe I was dreaming? Was he really asleep? Why didn’t he realize what he was doing with his own son? Far too excited, I stopped asking myself silly questions and did what I never thought I would have done in my life: I wrapped my arms around his upper body and pressed my aching dick against his. It felt so good to be near my Dad without having to argue about everything, to be able to share this with him, father to son. Then I looked into my father’s face: he was wide-awake and looking at me! I didn’t know what to say, but I suddenly understood that he was doing it deliberately! His expression was strange, a mixture of excitation, sadness and confusion, and I realized that Dad was only trying to connect with me, to bridge that gap that divided us for so long. "Son, I’ve..." he tried to say, but I put my index finger on his lips and said, "Don’t..." There was no reason to talk, words always led to argument between us: it was time to let our bodies do the talking. I smiled, encouraging him, and he smiled too. We clung to each other, our legs entwined and our cocks sliding together inside our shorts, both already wet with pre-cum. Moving awkwardly in the confined space of the sleeping bag, we pushed down our shorts and we looked down at our cocks pointing at each other, so alike, both not very long but really thick and hard as a rock. Dad rolled on top of me and his warm, slightly wet belly slid against mine, his hard dick grinding against my own. The sensation was incredible: it wasn’t the first sex of my life, but doing it with my own father was better than anything I’d ever tried before! Maybe it was our family connection, the blood we shared, but I felt we were deeply bonded to each other and our cocks pressed together was just like one big hard dick... We ground our bodies together in the small space of the sleeping bag we shared, mixing our pre-cum juices, accelerating the humping motion of our bellies and looking into each other’s eyes. There was no stopping us now! We held each other tight, humping and rubbing till our dicks were red and swollen and we couldn’t keep back the orgasm anymore. And we came, howling and grunting, streams of hot cum gushing from our pricks onto our wet bellies, coating our stomachs with incestuous juice. The strength of our mutual cumming left us weak and we stopped moving, exhausted, but still holding each other in silence. There was nothing to say: the generation gap was still there, we both knew that, but we had found a way to meet each other in the middle and that was enough for us. Still hugging each other, father and son naked and covered with sweat and cum, we fell asleep.