Gay Erotic Stories

So Dad was now left with two options -- wearing a shirt with the neck gaping open almost to his naval or pinning it together. Dad being Dad, he took the first option.

We took the elevator down to the hotel lobby, both in our khaki shorts, short-sleeved shirts, knee-length hiking socks and thick-soled shoes, happy with ourselves and happy to be heading for the wide open spaces to stretch our legs and maybe even our minds. Our mood matched the sunny day outside.

The clerk at the front desk wasn’t so sure.

“Ah, Sir?” he inquired of Dad, “Would we be planning to head out for some off-track walking today?”

“Sure are,” beamed Dad right back.

“Well, it’s just that weather in the mountains can change awful fast and I wondered whether you might like to consider long-legged trousers and maybe long-sleeved shirts? See, up here it can be warm and sunny one minute and cold and wet the next.”

The look on the clerk’s face showed clearly it was dawning on him that the guests in front of him were not about to be so wet as to go back to their room and change into more sensible clothes.

“Just a thought,” he mumbled. And that was it really. Off we walked into the bright, clear morning and in no time had headed out on one of the well defined walking tracks that radiated out into the forests and hanging swamps for which this area of the mountains was so famous.

Maybe half an hour later, Dad steered us up onto a ridge that overlooked a deep, darkly green valley. He caught sight of a stand of weirdly shaped rocks that looked about a mile or so off the track we’d been following.

“Hey Tiger – how’s about we strike out for those rocks and see what their all about?” he asked me.

And I’m like: “Sure Dad – let’s do it.”

In minutes we were pushing our way through some pretty dense scrub that not only whipped round our legs and arms but made visibility poor and distances difficult to gauge. It was sweaty work but all seemed worthwhile when we reached the oddly shaped rocks and boulders that Dad had spied from the path.

“This is cool, Dad,” I told him enthusiastically. “Let’s get some pictures of us on these rocks, eh?”

So we jumped around on the rocks, posing in silly ways, clowning round, laughing a lot and having a pretty good time.

“You know something Tiger – we shoulda brought a water bottle with us,” Dad said at one point. “Maybe we should look for a stream around here; maybe a bit further down in the valley.”

We headed down deeper into the thickly overgrown valley until at last we heard the sound of tinkling water up ahead.

“Told you,” he said happily as we pushed on to find the creek. It was a great little creek, too. Lots of ferns and little swells and eddies with overhanging rocks that sheltered the course of the stream. We drank from the sold, clear water and neither of us had any doubt that we were having a great Dad’n’Son day. I don’t think either of us could have been happier – until Dad looked up through the tree canopy and saw the beautiful blue sky above us had turned to a more steely, snarly gray.

“What happened to our day?” he laughed. “Maybe we better set on our way back, eh?”

So we started to push our way back up the valley – but it quickly became clear we were heading in a different direction to the way we’d come.

“I don’t remember seeing those rock ledges when we came down,” he said to me.

“Me neither,” I said. “I’m not sure if I can remember where we broke through to the creek.”

For the next hour we made fruitless forays into the scrub trying to find the path we’d beaten to make it to the creek but every attempt failed. We were both getting frustrated and a bit anxious. And the lousy weather was getting lousier every minute.

Then the rain started. First there were big, fat drops that plonked heavily onto rock surfaces and onto the silver expanse of the creek. Then they got smaller and faster and denser until it was raining really heavily.

“Let’s make for that overhanging rock and shelter underneath,” said Dad, pointing to a small, natural cave that had been formed by the creek in decades past.

While we sat and stared gloomily at the pouring rain from underneath our rock shelter, it was dawning on us that our situation was fast becoming a lot more serious. Not only was it wet, it was cold. And it was beginning to get dark.

I’m like: “Shouldn’t we just head up the valley anyway and not worry about going the same way we came?” Dad’s face looked grim.

“Tiger, I don’t think we would make it to the top before dark if we go now,” he told me in a soft dark voice he uses when things are looking like crap. “It pisses me off to even suggest this -- but I think we are going to have to rough it under this ledge until the morning and hope to high heaven that it has stopped raining by then.”

It wasn’t the happiest moment in my life. Here we were in our thin summer clothes with no food, no light, no heat – but lots and lots of water.

“You really think so?” I asked, hoping like a drowning man that somehow it was all going to become right again.

“Yeah, sorry, I really think so,” he told me.

Oh, great. Still there was nothing either he or I could do about it so we sat mournfully on the soft, black earth inside our little ‘cave’ and stared out at the rain.

We tried talking but the words wouldn’t come so the silence started to become a wall between us. In due course, however, it began to get so cold that someone had to say something or we’d both end up freezing our asses off. As it got darker – and colder – Dad told me to move close to his side so that we could exchange body heat. It worked to a certain extent because maybe an hour later we had both fallen into a stressful sleep – me with Dad’s arm holding me firmly to his side and my face cradled in the crook of his armpit.

A bit later I was suddenly awake – for no apparent reason. I strained my eyes to see anything in the dark but couldn’t make out a single image beyond the curve of my father’s chest. What I was able to see, however, was the clear image of Dad’s right nipple, out in the cold night air because of the missing button on his shirt. It was a deep, pinkish brown and it was stiffly erect and thrusting a good half inch away from his breast.

It looked amazing and I found myself quite excited by the sight of it. I looked up at Dad’s face and he seemed soundly asleep so I decided to explore a little bit. As quietly and gently as I could, I moved me left arm up and with my forefinger reached out and touched the nipple. It gave a little jerk. So I then took my forefinger and thumb and softly squeezed it. Another little jerk. I was enjoying this.

For maybe half a dozen times I played my little game of squeeze and jerk – until I heard that soft, dark voice again, quite close to my ear.

“Suck it,” the voice said. “Suck it.”

Inside my head I’m going like: What? Who? Did you say something Dad? But I didn’t. A tough little voice in my head told me to shut it and just do what I’ve been told. So I did.

I licked my lips a little, moved my head forward and slipped that pink-brown object between them. The nipple tasted salty and Dad’s skin smelled sweet and warm. The experience shocked me. I like this, I told myself with some surprise. No, I love this.

I started using the tip of my tongue to tickle that amazing little nipple and I rolled it between my lips so I could feel its amazing texture – hard and soft, sour and sweet. It was such an experience I felt something move inside my guts. And then I felt something moving deep between my legs. What the fuck was going on?

Then I head Dad give a long, breathy moan and felt his arm my further behind me and his hand rest on the back of my head, pressing my face and lips even closer to his breast. It was shocking and dazzling and the most exciting thing I had ever experienced. So I sucked even harder and tongued and twisted as excitedly as I could and my Dad’s moans got even louder and more frequent.

Then there was an unexpected, chaotic move as Dad pushed himself up on one elbow, grabbed me round the chest, pushed himself down on me and planted a magnificent, fat, wet kiss right on my lips.

I tell you there were skyrockets going off in my head. And in my cock. There was also something going on in his cock because I could feel it, hard and throbbing, pushed against my abdomen.

“Oh man,” I thought to myself, “if that goddamn big thing gets any lower its gonna slide right up my crack.”

And for the first time I actually considered the possibility of being fucked stupid by my own father and the thought shocked me. I had seen my Dad naked lots of times and, of course, I’d seen his big, thick penis and his bushy, pale brown public hair – but it had never struck me before as being anything but mildly and embarrassingly interesting.

Now, all of a sudden, I was seeing images in my mind of that thick, blood-engorged great cock with its bulging purple head, ramming its way unmercifully up my ass-hole. And the image both frightened and excited me.

What this whole experience was doing to Dad I could only guess. But I had a good idea. He was panting heavily, rubbing his whole body against mine with sweat beginning to seep from his skin and a strange, sour smell beginning to engulf him and his clothing.

He wouldn’t let my mouth go; he sucked on it and licked it furiously and then pulled his tongue from my mouth and started licking my face as well. At the same time his cock was seeking desperately to escape from his short pants as his buttocks rose up and then crashed down again on my stomach, almost as if he was using his prick to smash a new hole into my abdomen.

It was scary and I wondered if I should call out and try to wake him from his massive, randy dream. But did I really want to stop this madness? No, I decided, I did not. So I shut up; I just grunted when he slammed down against me one more time.

But then it did stop. Suddenly, Dad stopped trying to drive his big wang into my flesh. He lay there on top of me for a minute then slowly lifted his body upwards to separate us from each other.

It took only moments for me to work out why. Dad was ripping at his short buttons and his fly buttons and dragging his clothing off before reaching down and, fumbling frantically, started undoing my short and pants. It took a couple of minutes but eventually he had us both naked.

“You know what, Tiger?” he said in that dark chocolate growl. “You’re driving me nuts. And I’m so mad I’m gonna fuck your ass for you. I’m gonna fuck it till my prick goes right up your ass and comes out your mouth. And then I’m gonna shoot a million gallons of hot spunk to paint the inside of your guts. And I wanna hear that you want me to fuckin’ fuck you like that. And ya wanna see me fuck your sweet little pink ass. And you wanna feel my spunk shootin’ into your throat from outa your ass.”

A funny kind of groan came out of my mouth before I could gasp: “Yeah, Daddy. Fuck me Daddy. Fuck your son Daddy.”

Shit, I thought, that’ll probably put him right off. But it didn’t. In fact it seemed to inflame him more. He was on his knees in front of me with his dimly perceived big cock sticking out in front and his arms hanging by his sides. Then he simply leaned forward, bent his waist forward and my knees back until they touched my chest and then plunged his face down on my groin, sliding my cock right into his mouth.

He sucked it and tongued it and swirled it round his mouth. He grabbed the tips of my foreskin and gently chewed it before using his lips to slide the skin back and suck heavily on the head. Then he reaches up with his fingers and stuffs my balls into his mouth too. It was like crazy and it was magnificent too.

In a little while he slides down beneath my balls and starts licking my asshole, spitting juice up into the little crack and pushing the top of his tongue inside. It goes deeper and deeper and he’s licking and sucking harder and harder, jabbing away into my ass with his hot tongue until he puts his head up and whispers in that dark chocolate voice: “I can feel a little lump of you sweet young shit with my tongue, boy. Why don’t you be a good son and push it out for me.”

I don’t know if you’ve ever tried to take a crap while you’re on your back with your knees bent back to your chest, but, believe me, it ain’t easy. But I pushed hard and grunted a lot and finally I could feel a little lump of shit push its way between the lips of my asshole and – incredibly – straight between the waiting lips of my father’s face. He slid it onto his tongue, tossed back his head, and swallowed it in one go and then growled at me: “You can’t eat good food without some good champagne, boy. Gimme a good long drink of your piss, eh?”

I’m like: Where the fuck is this all going? It’s hard enough trying to piss while you’ve got a hard-on but trying to do it while your hard-on is in your Daddy’s mouth is even harder. But I managed--some how.

Oh, he loved that mouthful of hot piss, I must say. And then he wanted desert. It was back to the wild cock sucking we’d started with and he raged at my prick until it got rock solid hard, finally spurting a great load of spunk juice down his throat. He licked and sucked until he’d cleaned up every drop of semen and then dropped back beside me, as if someone had taken the wind-up key out of his back.

So, like, is that it? I was feeling pretty wrung out and tinny inside with the exhaustion of it all, but I couldn’t help thinking that my initial big fantasy of being deeply rooted up the ass had simply not happened.

I shouldn’t have worried. Dad was just catching his breath. In a few minutes he rolled on his side so his face was at right angles to mine. And he goes: “Well, now we’ve got the preliminaries out of the way, how’s about we get down to the serious business?”

He didn’t bother waiting for an answer, just worked his way round in front of me, lifted and spread my legs in the air, looked down and spat on his cock and wriggled on his knees into position to root me right up the back passage.

“You ready?” he wants to know.

“Yeah Dad.”

“Okay. Let’s fuck”

And we did. At first it was like he was shoving a pineapple up my crack and I thought he was going to split my ass in two. “C’mon boy, you can take it,” he kind of grunts at me. Once the big knob on his cock was past the lips of my ass he was able to slide that rock-hard roger right up into my guts. It was beginning to feel like heaven.

“Ya like it, ya like it?” he wants to know and I’m like: “Yeah, I like it Daddy. Fuck me man . . . ram it in me.” And he does. Eventually it gets to the point where he’s about to cum so he stops and looks me in the eyes and goes: “How you want it – in your guts, in your mouth, on your face . . . what?”

“I want all of ‘em,” I’m panting – but since I know that’s kinda out of the question I’m going: “Put it on my face Dad . . . and, Dad, you can lick it off me then.”

He looks a bit surprised and kind of looks up for a second and then says: “Yeah, right--on your face, on my tongue – and then into your mouth. Right?”

“Yeah, Dad. Do it man.”

So he pulls that big, fat cock out of my ass with one fast, yanking motion, shuffles forward on his knees until his cock is looming over my face and then starts to wank it. The smells are incredible: hot, ripe, spunky male smells are pouring off his pendulous, hairy balls . . . musky, deep shit smells escaping from his ass . . . rancid, heavy sweat smells from his pubic hairs and sharp, metallic cum smells pouring out of the head of his cock as he pounds away at his gross big lump of meat.

I’m lying there with my eyes bulging and my mouth wide open waiting for the spunk to start shooting all over my face and suddenly it starts happening: first a little spurt of white cum rips out of his cock-head and lands on my chin, then a little pause and a huge great load of steaming jizz spurts out at lightening speed and lands in my hair and on my forehead. Then another big avalanche of the white stuff pours out of his slit while he waggles his cock from side to side, making sure the stuff covers my face as it hits its target. There’s cum in my mouth, in my hair, in my eyes, nose, cheeks – even dribbling into my ears. I’m a cum pie waiting to me eaten – and my Dad is the man to do it.

When he’s finished pulling his prick he’s leaning down on me and licking my face with his tongue, slurping up the big globs of spunk that cover me. As quick as he sucks up a mouthful he spits it straight into my open mouth and I’m swallowing it as fast as he pours it in.

“Hey, save some for me,” he commands and then presses his mouth down on mine and starts to lick around inside, rescuing as much of his own cum as he can find and then sucking it down his own throat.

“That’s a fine load of sweet, hot cum – even if I say so myself,” says Dad and I’m going: “Yeah, the best, man. The best.”

Then he sort of collapses on top of me for a while before rolling over on his back and staring at the roof of our rock cave.

“Think we deserve a bit of rest now, Tiger . . . what do you think?”

“Sure man,” I tell my Dad before cuddling next to him and drifting into sleep with my head on his chest.

………………….

I heard the voices before I was even awake.

First some indistinct sounds and then words: “There they are, there they are. Up there in Dead Man’s Cave!”

I was awake in about two seconds, panicking almost immediately in case they saw I was naked and covered in dirt and dried cum.

But here’s the thing: I wasn’t. I was fully dressed – well, as dressed as you can be in shorts and a shirt, shoes and socks. But dressed. And so was Dad. What was going on?

In minutes, three guys had scrambled up the bank of the creek and were squatting down in our ‘cave’ wanting to know if we were okay (yes), asking had we eaten (no), did we want coffee? (yes) and organising us into a group for an escorted walk back up the mountain.

We were lucky, they said. Our hotel had alerted police we hadn’t returned and people were known to have died after a night of exposure in these mountains – in fact, long ago, one man died right in the over-hang cave we’d spent the night it.

Dad and I were suitably chastened, but I still couldn’t comprehend how we had ended up being so clean and neat when we should have been totally filthy. Had it all been a dream? How could I even broach the subject with Dad, who was looking stern and responsible as we headed out for the climb back to civilisation?

He was walking ahead of me as we all single-filed through the scrub. And then, about fifty yards up the slope, he turned round and looked me in the eye. And winked.