Gay Erotic Stories

My first memory of my dad was when I was around 5, maybe 6 years old. He was perched on his recliner in his pajamas and I was sitting on his lap, he was reading to me. It was my favorite thing to do, cuddle up on his lap and have him read my favorite story books. He was affectionate and we would always kiss and hug. He called me his little man. This particular evening, I remember telling him I didn’t want him to kiss me anymore. He hadn’t shaved and his beard felt scratchy to my sensitive cheeks. Such an innocent moment between a father and son.

Years later I would want nothing more than to have him take me in his arms, pull me against his tall strong body and kiss me hard on the mouth.

I was born in 1961. The second son, and middle child to a man who I believe, had he lived in another time, would have been comfortable being a gay man.

As a teenager of 14 or 15 years old, I would sneak into his bedroom when no one was home, slip my feet into a pair of his well- worn Redwing work boots, or his brown wingtip shoes that were always highly polished, and only brought out for weddings and funerals. I would stay in there for an entire afternoon, just smelling his clothes. The cedar-lined closet always smelled earthy, very masculine, very arousing, especially to a teenage boy coming to realize he was gay and attracted to his dad! I remember how aroused I would be, standing in his clothes closet, smelling his clothes, playing with his work boots, just longing to be near him. My head would be spinning and I would be hard as a rock the minute I snuck into his closet.

I’m Davey, 18 years old, just ready to head off for college. I am the spitting image of my old man. At six foot tall, with a well defined body from wrestling and years of swimming, I ‘m often mistaken for dad’s younger brother. I don’t know who was more proud to hear those compliments, but he would just smile and give me a wink.

Dad was tall at 6’2” and in good shape from working on the delivery truck. He worked hard and it showed. Not buff by any stretch, but was solid at 180lb, forty six years old, tanned from years working outdoors, and a full head of dark hair. A pleasant smile and the most comforting voice you’ve ever heard. The blue collar version of Tom Brokaw. He was everyone’s buddy, the guy everyone wants to be around. An all- around good guy. He could always be counted on to help his friends, that is, when he wasn’t shit faced drunk.

Most nights when he came home from work, he would do a couple of chores around the house, have dinner and then he was headed off to shower and then to the recliner in his pajamas and start guzzling yet another can of beer. During the work week he would down a 6-pack every night, but Friday and Saturday’s were his nights to get hammered. On the weekends he was usually drinking by noon, drunk by dinner time and passed out by 8 o’clock. Still, I loved him, and even at such an early age, thought if I loved him enough, things would get better. Regardless of his actions at home, he was my idea of the perfect man. I always wanted to be like him when I grew up. I wanted nothing more than to please him and make him happy.

I always knew I was attracted to men. Not the boys on my swim team, or those I had the chance to wrestle with in high school, but men. Men like my best friend’s dad, the school Principal, the cop that patrolled our neighborhood, my dad’s work buddies ….. Men like dad.

At 18, I had NO sexual experiences other than Rick, the nickname I gave my right hand. I went to the Jersey Shore for a weeklong vacation with my best friend’s family and ending up meeting this older guy. We went back to his beach house and I had my first taste of dick. It happened so fast and I was in such a daze, I don’t really remember what happened except I knew I wanted more. Lots more and I wanted it all the time. I’ve been addicted to sucking dick since that night in Ocean City. After returning home from vacation, I would spend hours that summer cruising the parks and the parking lot of the local strip club looking for men. Some nights I would head out after dinner and not come home until after the bars closed. I lived in a rather small town and most of the guys I sucked off were married guys, on the prowl for what they weren’t getting at home. After a few weeks, I had a pretty good following and was getting my fill of dick nightly.

I have no idea where the thought came from or where or how I got up the balls to do it, but the old man was smashed on the Friday night before I was to leave for college. As usual, he came home from work at 4, showered and appeared at the dinner table in his pajamas. By the time I came back from my cruise time in the park, he was crashed out in the recliner with at least a dozen cans of beer on the coffee table. No one was home, and I was still horny as shit. I looked at him, totally bombed and snoring loud enough to wake the dead. There he was, sprawled out on the recliner, in his blue and white striped pajamas, doing his best to hold on to that last can of beer, legs spread wide open, head hanging down on his chest, he looked so pathetic and yet he looked like a 5-star meal to a sex-starved teenager! I called him a couple of times to see if he would stir………………………nothing. After looking at him a few minutes, I called to him again. Still no movement. As I walked over to the recliner my heart was racing, I was thinking what in the hell are you doing?? Knowing if he woke up, I would be knocked on my ass if he caught me playing with his dick. I was drunk with lust and went for it. I reached down and rubbed his leg, again calling to him. No response, just the continued snoring. I reached up his leg farther and caressed his thighs. He continued to snore. Farther up his thigh until I was massaging his balls and limp dick. Nothing. I was ready to blow my load just knowing what I was doing was sooooooo wrong and yet it felt so fucking hot. I was so caught up in the moment that I unsnapped the fly of his pajamas and reached into find he was wearing underwear, I managed to lower the waistband of his white Fruit of The Looms below his balls and started to stroke him. STILL no movement. I got on my knees and put his dick in my mouth. He was uncut and only 4-5 inches long soft. I sucked him deep into my mouth and then let his dick slip out and let it land, hanging over his almost hairless balls. Still no movement and the snoring continued. I looked up at him as I kneeled between his spread legs and thought I was in heaven. I bent my head back down and sucked his dick back into my mouth, his dick started to swell, filling my young but now experienced mouth and then the snoring stopped…………………………………. I panicked and froze. Silence for what seemed like an hour. Then he snorted and started to snore again. I went back to sucking his dick, running my tongue under his foreskin, lapping up his pre-cum that I somehow triggered his on switch, and now my mouth was full. Full of my father’s dick, it just kept getting bigger and thicker and the snoring became less frequent and the snoring started turning to soft moans.

Jesus H. Chist!!!!

I felt his hands on my head, directing me up and down on his dick as he was now pumping my face. I could see his ass cheeks lifting off the leather recliner as he pumped his dick in my mouth. I looked up in to his face thinking I would be met with his stare and then his fist into my face. What I saw instead was this man I adored with half a smile on his face, eyes closed, and the sweetest moans coming from his lips. The moaning turned into yelps, which turned into grunts, which turned into sighs as I felt bolt after bolt of my dad’s bitter cum shoot into my mouth. I could feel his thickly veined dick pulse in my mouth as his load continued to coat my throat. He started to go limp and then…………………………. snoring. I received my prize and I really believed he was none the wiser. I pulled the waistband of his white Fruit of The Looms back over his saliva dripping dick and balls. So confused by what happened and the adrenaline rush I was having and the thought of being caught I ran to my room, not knowing what to expect. Did he know? What would happen if he found out? Jeeze, how do I avoid him this weekend?? We’re supposed to go golfing tomorrow!