My playroom was full of smoke and my “boy” and I were playing in the sling when the phone rang. “Shit,” I cursed. I’d just finished glazing my left arm with grease after chewing out my “son’s” hairy ass in my sling. I had so much grease on my arm that the sleeve tattoo I’d been working on for weeks was almost invisible. His asshole was winking at me- my fucking cigar drool was leaking out of his hole.
I plunked my thumb up his ass. I handed him my cigar. He reached down, and grabbed my cock in his big hand and slapped it against his butt. The phone stopped ringing. The answering machine kicked in. I heard the gravely voice of my Dad. “Gus?”
“Gus? Answer the fucking phone!”
But there was other business at hand. My Dad breathed hard in the phone- I could almost see him spitting into his end of the line. I smiled, took my cigar back from the cocky stud rocking in my sling, and put my knuckles together. I took the little brown bottle off his furry chest and handed it to him. He screwed the bottle open and breathed heavily in one nostril and then the other. I grabbed one of his booted feet and slipped it through the leather stirrup on the sling, and then did the same with the other.
He held the brown bottle up to my face, and as I bent over, he plugged one nostril at a time. I breathed in deeply. My dick was fucking stiff and scarlet; his was fat and hard- and the head was rich and blue. I couldn’t wait to marry my knuckles to his hungry ass, like we’d done to each other so many times before. I parked my cigar in my jaw and started to slip my greasy hand in my boy’s ass. Thoughts of fucking him after I’d wrecked his hole with my fist circled my brain like cigar smoke circled my red face.
Again the phone rang.
The sling was rocking back and forth as I got ready to penetrate my “son’s” ass. I’d hooked up with him at the body shop I started going to when I wanted to translate my tattoo and piercing fantasies into reality. Though we didn’t live together, we’d come to be known as a couple- Daddy Guy and his boy, “Shark”. I guess it was all the fur, tats, piercings- and my cigar fetish- that made me a “Dad”.
Why “Shark”? Imagine a wide jaw and a tight hole… he fucked like a shark. I was only 27, but already a Dad.
“Answer the phone, you son of a bitch!” I heard my Dad bark into the answering machine. “The Navy chaplain just came by. Your b*****r Gabe’s been killed.” A loud, angry “click” followed when he slammed down his phone.
When I heard those words, a pain like a hot sword cut through my heart.
My b*****r Gabe and I were twins. Some twins are inseparable, and some- like us- are insufferable. About the time we turned 16, we quarreled like sonsofbitches. He hung out with a totally different crowd than I did. I joined the wrestling team and hung out with all the farmer k**s that bussed into Laredo High School each morning, smoking cigarettes before the fist bell for class rang. About the only thing we had in common was a buddy named Napoleon, a Cuban American who liked all the girls hanging around my b*****r, but gave me all I could want on the wrestling mat.
As strong an influence as my Dad had been, my Mom was always a steady hand. She wanted her boys to grow up successful- one a doctor and the other a lawyer. My Dad, a tough black Irishman who’d served in the Navy in Vietnam and ran a successful construction business, didn’t care anything about that. He wanted his two sons to take over his business when he would be too old to run it.
Mom died the year before the two of us boys graduated from high school. I went off to school in Washington, D.C., and got my degree in journalism. Unable to find a job right away, I started my own construction business- like my Dad- renovating houses in the growing gay enclave around DuPont Circle. In the process of swinging a hammer, laying tile, and building decks, I fucked my brains out and put as much ink on my body as I could in a given week. And met Shark.
Taking after my Dad, my b*****r Gabe enlisted in the Navy. Trained as a corpsman, he shipped off to Iraq in 2004. He shipped off on a second tour in 2007. As I would soon find out, he was killed while rendering aid at the site of an attack in the “Green Zone” in Baghdad aimed at Coalition Headquarters.
After hearing my Dad’s message, I wiped my fist off, snuffed out my cigar, and called my Dad back. “Just got your message, Dad,” I said. “What the fuck happened?”
He snapped back at me, “The Navy’s in charge of arrangements. You get your faggot ass back here when I tell you, Guy. Probably in two weeks.” I could hear him slam the phone down.
No matter what our history was as b*****rs, the news of Gabe’s death was inescapable. All I could do was wait for my Dad to call me back and tell “my faggot ass” what to do.
Unlike a lot of guys, I was never bashful about “coming out” to my Mom and Dad. I didn’t make a habit of going home for holidays or whatever, but when my b*****r Gabe came home on leave, I made the trip home because I knew they wanted to see us together. My b*****r’s friend, Napoleon, was always around when I came home. One night, when Napoleon and my b*****r went upstairs to watch TV in our bedroom, I sat down with my Mom and Dad and came clean.
“You have a gay son,” I told them. I think my Mom turned a little gray in the face. My Dad grabbed my bearded chin and spit toward my mouth.
“I don’t give a shit who fucks your turd box, son,” he said. “Just don’t let it get around to my friends.” With that, he pulled a smoke from his pocket, lit it, and went out to the porch, slamming the door. My Mom went up to bed, and I parked my ass on the couch, listening to the TV coming from the bedroom upstairs where my b*****r Gabe and Napoleon were watching.
A couple of weeks after my Dad’s call, he picked me up at the Laredo airport. When my Dad met me at the gate, he grabbed my jaws with both of his big hairy hands and kissed me square on the lips. He’d shaved himself, and his aftershave reminded me of when Gabe and I ran down the stairs on Christmas morning and he kissed us as we dived into our presents under the tree. As we got out of the terminal and headed toward the parking lot and his truck, it struck me… it was July and fucking hot as hell. Hardly Christmas, though that could be hot as hell, too. We drove back to our house in the “Ranchettes”, not sharing a word, but his smell filled me with nostalgia and a hunger for the masculine way he’d always handled me and my b*****r.
My Dad always took my hesitance to talk to him as hostility. Fact was, he’d lost his hearing in one ear when he was diving on a mission in the Mekong River and a mine exploded. He didn’t mind it when my Mom shouted at him so he could hear her, but it pissed him off when I did it. Whether I raised my voice, or kept my fucking mouth shut, I was on the losing end of the deal.
“Did you bring a suit?” my Dad asked me as the screen door slammed shut and we walked into the house.
“I did, Dad- it’s here in my duffle bag. I rolled it up like Gabe taught me to roll up his blues so they wouldn’t get wrinkled,” I answered.
“It’ll be an early morning, Guy,” my Dad told me. “Get yourself in bed. I don’t have any fucking dinner around here. Haven’t been hungry since I got the news about your b*****r. Just go to bed and we’ll stop at Denny’s on the way to church in the morning if you’re hungry.”
I went upstairs and tossed my duffle on my b*****r’s old bed. The aroma of cigar smoke filled the room. I knew my Dad had been sitting in the chair in the corner, smoking, ever since he got the news. I could smell the tears. I stripped and climbed under the covers of my old bed. I cried until my own tears ran down my neck and onto my chest, and then fell asl**p on my wet pillow.
Before dawn, I heard my Dad slam the bathroom door closed and turn on the shower. I sat up in bed- reached for my shirt, and pulled a cigarette out of the pocket. Lighting it, I lay back on my pillow, letting the ashes drop on my chest. When I finished smoking, I looked around for an ashtray. I got out of bed and found an ash tray on our old school desk, filled with cigar butts.
After I showered and put my suit on, I met my Dad downstairs. He was wearing his old Navy blues. What a fucking stud, even after all these years! He hadn’t shaved this morning- he looked like a poster for everything I admired in a man. His collar was open and big tufts of black and gray hair rose up between the Vee in his shirt to just under his jaw. He held his starched cap in his fist, and held the screen door open for me as we walked out of the house and down the driveway to his truck. As we walked, I fell behind him, and admired his thick, muscular buttocks tucked into those navy blue pants.
“You hungry, Guy?” he asked me, as he pulled out of the driveway.
“Fuck no, Dad,” I said. “Let’s put Gabe to rest.”
We pulled up in the church parking lot as the sun was about to rise. My dad got out of his truck and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Fog had come in from the river and surrounded his head, it seemed to me, as he stuck a smoke in his mouth and lit up. He came around to my side of the truck- stuck a cigarette in my mouth through the open window, and opened the door. Once I got out, he fired up his Zippo and gave me a light. We stood there, smoking.
The nut cases from the Westborough pack of religious crazies were already down the block. The held up their signs saying shit like “God wants Soldiers to die Defending Fags.” My Dad squinted into the rising sunlight, took a drag on his cigarette, and growled. I just stood there, twirling my cigarette between my thumb and forefinger, smoking it, and wondering what my Dad was going to do to those motherfuckers.
And just as if that wasn’t enough trouble, a gang of motorcycle riders came down the road, stopped, and put their kick stands down with their tail pipes facing the fucking “protesters.”
A big smile crosses my Dad’s face. “They’re here, Guy,” my Dad says to me. “Those mean fuckers are going to turn Gabe’s funeral into a rightful memorial for our hero.”
Flags came out and the bikers used them to shield the church from the crazies across the street. Putting his kickstand down, a hot Latin stud got off his bike and headed straight toward us. He wore leather chaps over tight, bulging jeans, and a leather vest over a loose string tee-shirt. It was Napoleon, our friend from high school. I crushed out my cigarette under my shoe and hugged him when he came up to me.
“My Amigo!” I said to him, though I doubt either of us had spoken Spanish in many years. Our unshaven faces caressed each other.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve taken you down on the mat, motherfucker,” Napoleon said when our faces part.
“Last I recall, it was me stuffing my face in your groin and putting a hurt on those nuts,” I joked, laughing. Gesturing toward the gathering of bikers, I asked “Who do we have to thank for this?”
He smiled bashfully, and said, “Just us, b*****r… just us.”
And instantly, I knew I wanted to fuck with this man (not that I thought there was any chance I would).
The funeral service at the Cathedral of San Agustin was fittingly solemn. My Dad wept unabashedly throughout and when it was time for him to get up and eulogize my b*****r, he was unable to do so. He handed me a couple of pieces of paper with his written remarks and I got up and read it for him.
Afterwards, we went outside and waited for my b*****r’s casket to be loaded into the hearse and then took the hour and a half ride to the National Cemetery for the military funeral. After an officer handed my Dad the flag that had d****d over Gabe’s casket, my Dad stood up and told everyone that there would be a gathering at the Amvets back in Laredo if they cared to attend.
“Listen, Dad,” I told my father, “I’m burning up in this damned suit. You mind if I stop off back at home and change clothes?”
“How the hell you gonna get there, Gus?” he barked at me. “The fucking house is all the way across town from the Amvets.”
I saw Napoleon walk by just then, headed to the parking lot with his buddies.
“Hey, Napoleon, you mind giving me a lift home so I can change?” I asked. “Then we can go over to the Amvets and suck down some suds.”
“No problem, Gus,” he replied.
Out in the parking lot, Napoleon took his helmet off the seat rack. “Sorry, Gus, I only got one helmet with me,” he said.
I took a cigarette from the pack in my coat pocket and lit it. “That’s alright, buddy. I need a smoke anyway.” After he got on the bike and kicked the engine on, I swung my leg over the seat and mounted the bike behind him. I stuck my cigarette in my mouth and put my arms around his waist. We headed back to Laredo.
When we got to the house, I invited Napoleon in and went to the kitchen where I grabbed a couple of beers. I headed upstairs to my bedroom and he followed me. “You need to use the bathroom?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” he said. “Maybe before we head out.”
I took my clothes off and went down the hall to the bathroom. I got in the tub and turned on the shower. My dick was stiff as a board, but I didn’t want to jack off in case Napoleon changed his mind and came in to take a leak. I dried myself off. Like the knucklehead I can sometimes be, I tried to hide my boner by wrapping my towel around my waist.
When I got back to the room, I saw that Napoleon had taken off his vest and was leaned back on my b*****r’s old pillow. An open suitcase sat on the floor with dozens of magazines spilling out. Napoleon had one in his hand and was flipping the pages, rubbing his crotch.
“What’d ya’ find, buddy,” I asked him.
“It’s your b*****r’s old stack of porn,” he said. “We used to come up here and turn the TV on, then pull this shit out and beat off to these guys fucking these babes.”
“Just beat off?” I asked him, dropping my towel.
“Yeah,” he said, “Just beat off. Sometimes we’d give each other a helping hand, if you know what I mean. But basically, we was just jacking. Out of boredom, I guess.” As he said this, he looked straight at the 8 inch piece of lumber standing straight up below my waist.
“This all straight stuff?” I asked him.
“Yeah, straight stuff. I don’t remember Gabe ever being interested in guys’ dicks,” he said.
“Well how about for old times’ sake, I go get a can of grease and you can show me the kinda stuff you liked,” I said.
He nodded his head. “OK. Sure. I’m always up for porn and jacking it.”
When I got back, his pants were off and his brown, uncut tool was already semi-hard as he rested on an elbow and flipped pages of one of the magazines. I took my pack of cigarettes from my suit jacket. “Mind if I smoke?” I asked. “Want one?”
“Don’t mind at all, Gus,” he said. “But just the beer is fine with me.”
I lit a cigarette and let it dangle between my lips. I opened the can of Vaseline and spread it over my dick. I held the can out to him, and he did the same. I set it down on the table by my bed and sat down. While I stared at his hardening cock, I stroked my meat and smoked.
“Aren’t you gonna look at any of this shit?” he finally asked me. “There’s some pretty hot stuff!”
I put out my cigarette, took a belt from my beer, and got down on the floor, shuffling through my b*****r’s porn stash. “Man, these are ancient,” I said.
“Yeah. Gabe liked to buy the used stuff- said he got a kick out of separating the pages stuck together with cum,” Napoleon said. “Probably a lot of his and mine gluing those pages together now. We really got off on this shit.”
As I rifled through the magazines, I found one titled, “Nude Lewd Dudes,” with men fucking and sucking each other on the cover. I opened it up, went through a few pages, and then tossed it at Napoleon. “Now that’s the kinda fucking I’m talking about!” I said.
He looked through a few pages, and then looked at me. “You gay? Cool.”
“Whaddya mean ‘cool’?” I asked.
“Nothing,” he said, “just cool. I haven’t had a dick in my mouth since high school, and I’ve been fucked up my ass, unless you count a broomstick or shovel handle.” He laughed. “Just meant cool.”
He rolled over on his back and held the magazine in front of his face. His cock wagged like a puppy’s tail. “Mind if I get a refill on this beer, buddy?” he asked me.
When I got back and handed him his beer, the “Dudes” magazine was laying next to him and he was back to jerking his dick. “Thanks. And if you don’t mind, I think I will have one of your smokes.”
He took one from my pack and lit it, blowing smoke down his firm chest and across his thick, black-haired bush. After I set the ashtray next to him, I got on my knees on the bed next to him with my face over his cock. I took his hand away, and took his dick into my mouth, sticking my tongue into his pee slit. When I lifted my head and took my tongue back into my mouth, a rope of pre-cum connected my lip to pole.
“Cool,” he said again, giggled, and took another drag, blowing smoke down his chest. I reached for his cigarette and he gave it to me. I took a long drag and then exhaled over his cock. I handed it back to him and went back to work blowing him and getting as much of his pre-cum down my throat as I could. I laid out next to him and while he smoked, he played with my greasy cock. When he crushed out his cigarette, I could feel him replace his hand on my dick with his mouth. If felt him run his tongue the full length of my boner and then swallow it.
I took my face out of his crotch and watched as he sucked me. “Cool,” I said, and then got back to work.
After a few minutes, Napoleon said to me, “Take it easy, man. I don’t wanna cum to fast. My wife is always doing that to me, so I take her off and lick her pussy for awhile.”
“You got a wife?” I asked.
“Yeah. That’s why I haven’t done this stuff since I was a k**,” he replied.
“Roll over,” I said.
He smiled, and asked, “What are gonna do?”
“I gonna lick your pussy, Napoleon,” I said.
He laughed, rolled over, and took a gulp from his beer. He said, “First time for everything, I guess.”
I spread his cheeks with my greasy hands and held them open so I his brown-skinned pucker. I put my stubbled face inside his crack, and slid my tongue into him. I spit on his sphincter and pushed it in with my tongue.
“Aw fuck, man!” he yelped. “That is so fucking hot!”
I spent the next 20 minutes or so chowing down between his cheeks, and there was no mistaking it- he fucking loved it. The room got dark, and I got up and switched on the lamp next to the bed. I took a gulp from my beer, and lit a cigarette. He sat up on the bed and I bent over and kissed him deeply. He put his hand over the back of my head and we locked lips again.
“Tasty ass,” I told him. He grinned, took my dick in his hand and started blowing me while stroking me at the same time.
I laid down on the bed with my head propped up on the pillow, and had him straddle my chest with his dick in my mouth. He put both hands behind my head, bringing me closer, and face fucked me.
I could tell he was getting close when he suddenly let go of my head and started vigorously jacking off. “Fuck! Fuck! Shit!” he groaned until a river of jizz shot out of his cock and onto my fuzzy face. “Damn!”
I took his cock in my mouth and drained what was left as he shook and groaned. He laid down next to me, played with his cum on my face, and kissed me. “Want me to do you?” he asked.
“Yeah, but later. I’ll wait until you’re ready to bring it back to the party. There’s something else I want from you, buddy,” I told him.
I lit another smoke, and we lay there stroking each other. I was rock hard the whole time. About half an hour later, the veins on his cock were bulging and he was stiff again. I got up, handed him the can of grease and went over to my bed. I leaned over with my hands and looked back at him. “Bring that over here,” I told him.
I dipped in and lubed up my cock. “Stick some of that grease in my asshole and get it real wet. Then grease your dick and fuck me!”
I felt his finger slide into my slot and listened as he slapped grease on his fat boner. He got behind me and tried to guide his dick into my hole; I told him to spread my ass open wide, and I reached back to guide him inside of me.
“Man!” he said. “That is so fucking hot!”
“Fuck me, Napoleon,” I growled at him. “Fuck me good, fucker!”
No sooner was he giving me a damn good drilling, but the door to the house opened. Napoleon jumped back into my b*****r’s bed and pulled the covers over himself. I laughed and laid back on my pillow. “You look like a scared little boy,” I told him.
Soon, we heard my Dad stumbling up the stairs. He pushed the bathroom door open with a bang, and we heard him take a long, f***eful piss. I thought I heard him open the medicine cabinet door and fumble around, and the he went down the hall to his room.
Napoleon jumped up and scrambled to get dressed. “What’re ya’ doing?” I asked. “He knows you’re here. He saw your bike outside. Get back in bed. He’s probably d***k and gonna pass out soon. Then we can finish what we started and you can go home.”
Shortly, we heard him come out of his room and down the hall. He went downstairs and soon, came back up again. He rapped on my bedroom door, and barged right in. He was wearing his robe, but it was untied, and, as usual, I couldn’t help envying his long, thick cock dangling between his thighs. He had a six-pack of beer in one of his big paws, and an unlit cigar in the other.
“Gimme a light, son,” he said, sticking his stogie in his mouth and leaning over me. I picked up my Zippo and held it while puffed. Then he took it out of his mouth and said, “Might stiff prick ya’ got there, son. What the fuck is going on?”
He walked over to the chair next to the lamp, put the beer on the table, and sat down. He popped a can of beer open, took a long drag on his cigar, and barked, “What the fuck is going on, son!”
“We were just going through Gabe’s old stash of porn, Dad. Beating off. You know.”
My Dad walked over to the pile of magazines and picked one up. He sat back down, parked his cigar in the side of his jaw, and started flipping through the pages. His cock started to thicken and rise. “Son, this is man-on-woman fucking. Since when do you fucking get off on that?”
“You know I don’t, Dad. I was watching Napoleon get off on it.”
Napoleon sat straight up when I said that.
“Well then, maybe you’ll enjoy watching your Dad and Napoleon get off, only twice as much. Get that can of grease and hand it to me, then give it to Napoleon,” he ordered.
I got up and turned around to pick up the Vaseline and give it to him. Before I turned around, he barked at me, “What’s that on your ass, Guy?”
I ran my hand across my butt, put it under my nose, and said, “It’s shit, Dad.”
“You’re damn right it’s shit. I smelled it the fucking minute I came in this room! Lick it off your hand, Guy!”
As I did, he walked over to Napoleon and ripped the blankets away. “And that’s your shit on his dick, isn’t it, son? Get down on your fucking knees and suck that man’s cock clean, son- then both of you meet me in the bathroom! I don’t understand how you could have a man fuck you with a loaded turd box! Bring the grease with you.”
He ripped off his robe and tossed it aside, storming out of the room naked in a furious cloud of smoke.
I got down in front of Napoleon’s cock. Surprisingly, he was still hard. I took his shit-stained prick in my mouth and sucked. When I stood up, I told him to follow me. “Just think ‘cool’,” I told him. “He used to scare the shit out of Gabe and me when we were k**s. Now I think it’s just a game- a cool game.”
He followed me down the hall to the bathroom where my Dad was waiting. He put both of us in the tub and turned on the shower. With all three of us sporting stiff rods, he soaped up a washcloth and took after scrubbing us. He paid special attention to Napoleon’s dick, making sure to get every speck of crap off of it. The he ordered both of us to turn around. He pulled an old rubber enema bottled out of the cabinet below the sink, cracked off the top, and filled it with water. He put the top back on, greased up the beak, and slid into my ass. He flushed it inside of me and repeated it until the flow coming out of my ass was clear. Then he did the same thing to Napoleon.
After he dried us off with a towel, he led us back to my bedroom with the can of grease in one hand, and his cigar in the other. He threw back some more beer and told me to pop open some for me and Napoleon. He picked up the phone on the table and handed it to Napoleon.
“Dial your fucking home number, and when your wife answers, hand the phone to me,” he ordered. When he hesitated, my Dad growled, “Do it!”
Napoleon dialed the phone and handed it to my Dad when his wife answered. “Cindy,” my Dad said into the phone. Then he chuckled and took a drag on his cigar. “This is Frank Maddix I’m afraid we got a situation here. Napoleon tossed back a few at the Amvets this evening and then came back to the house with us and had a few more. He’s passed out on the couch and will probably be there until lunchtime tomorrow… No, honey- no use in coming over to take him home- you’d never get him awake and out of the house. I’ll give him some aspirin in the morning and pour a few cups of coffee down his throat tomorrow, and he’ll be back home safe and sound… Thanks, Cindy, I understand the babysitter backed out on you for the service today. It was beautiful… I appreciate it, sweetheart. Good night!” Sweet as could be, and then he hung up the phone.
“Napoleon,” my dad said, “there’s a big fucking dildo in the bottom drawer of that chest over there. Go get it!”
Napoleon got it and brought it to my Dad. “Gus,” my dad said, “get on all fours and point that ass at me.” He slapped the dildo into the palm of his hand. He picked up the can of grease and covered the huge rubber dildo in his hand with grease, then handed the Vaseline to Napoleon. He told him to grease up his cock and slap my exposed ass with it. With his cigar in the side of his mouth, my Dad slipped two greasy fingers in my asshole, and then greased up my cock with the same hand.
“I’m gonna crack his hole real good for you,” my Dad told Napoleon, “and then you’re gonna fuck my son’s clean hole just like he wants it fucked by your pecker!”
I reached back and spread my cheeks as my Dad put that rubber cockhead next to my chute and firmly pressed it inside of me. The damn thing must’ve been as wide as my boy Shark’s fist, but I took it like a champ. Napoleon got up on the bed, and on his knees, fed me his cock while my Dad fed that rubber fucker all the way up my hole. Instead of pounding me like I thought he would, Dad took long and slow strokes with that fucker in and out of my chute. He really was opening and softening my hole for Napoleon to fuck.
After a few minutes, my Dad pulled the rubber monster out of me, slapped my butt with it, and walked over to his chair. He pulled one of the stale cigar butts out of the ashtray, lit it, and came back over to me. He grabbed Napoleon by the bicep and pulled him off the bed, stationing his stiff cock at my crack. “Spread those cheeks, son,” my Dad growled at me, and I did as he ordered. With his cigar in his jaw, my Dad grabbed Napoleon’s cock as, once again, he fumbled trying to penetrate my hairy ass. Expertly, he positioned Napoleon’s dickhead right next to my asshole, and then gently pressed it in.
“Fuck that ass!” my Dad shouted. “He wants your fucking dick, and any boy of mine that needs a fucking deserves to get it!”
“Fuck me, buddy,” I growled, and liked I’d never thought, Napoleon took to rocking my ass. “Is that hot, buddy?” I asked him, as my Dad slapped my butt with his greasy boner.
“Oh man!” Napoleon answered. “I think I’m gonna fucking cum!”
“Not yet, my man,” my dad said, and pulled him out of me. “There’s a lot deeper fucking you need to give that ass!”
Dad threw me on my back and told me to spread my legs and put ‘em in the air. “Get up there and fuck that spread ass,” my Dad told Napoleon. “You get fucking pecker as far up his hole as you can, and then really fucking pound it. Get it deep and hold off shooting your seed into him as long as you can!”
Though he seemed to be on the edge the whole time, Napoleon just kept driving his dick inside me with me legs spread wide and my ankles up by his ears. My Dad stroked his dick over Napoleon’s cock going into me, puffing furiously. Finally, my cock let loose with a tremendous squirt that puddle in the hairy crevice on my chest. My Dad scooped it up and pulled Napoleon’s cock out of me, lubed it with my cum, and then put him back inside of me.
As he beat off over my ass getting fucked, Dad finally lost his load, and wiped his dick all over my hairy crack and Napoleon’s dick as he fucked me. I felt Napoleon start to lose a fierce squirt in my hole and he called out, “Fuck! I’m cumming!”
My Dad walked over to the table and grabbed another stale cigar butt. He lit it, sat down, and took his smoke between his fat fingers. Sounding a little spent, he told Napoleon to feed his dick into my mouth. Dad sat there for awhile watching me nurse that sloppy uncut dick, and then nodded off. I got up when I saw Dad’s head slide onto his hairy shoulders, and took the cigar butt out of his hand. I took a puff and then crushed it out in the ashtray.
When I came back to bed, Napoleon took my still-dripping dick in his hand and kissed it. Even though I was spent, too, that made me tingle. I got in bed with him and kissed him until he fell asl**p. Then I fell asl**p too.
For some reason, my b*****r’s fucking alarm clock went off just a few hours later. I didn’t remember setting it- or seeing my Dad set it. In fact, when I stumbled down the hall to the bathroom, I could hear my Dad still snoring from the open door to his bedroom.
I washed my face and brushed my teeth. I came back into the bedroom and found Napoleon rubbing his eyes. “Get up, ya’ hot fuck,” I said. I took my pack of cigarettes and lit one. “Get your ass in the shower and clean up- I’m going to make some coffee.”
As I went out the door with my smoke clinched in my fist, I looked back to see him stretch his muscular arms and yawn. What a hot fucking stud!
Downstairs, I put some coffee on. I looked around for some cereal or doughnuts, but found nothing. I finished my smoke, and as I heard the shower upstairs go on, took out another one and lit it. Naked, I walked outside in the warm July morning, sat on Napoleon’s motorcycle leaning on its kick-stand, and smoked. For some reason, I really wanted a cigar.
I reached down with my cigarette and rubbed it out in the driveway. I flicked it off between my thumb and fuck finger and went back in the house. The coffee smelled good, and I could hear Napoleon rustling about upstairs.
I came to the door of my bedroom and peeked in as he was fastening the grippers of his chaps. “Did you shave?” I asked him.
“Yeah. I can’t go home looking like some kind of bum- I’d get killed!” he said. With a single sniff, I knew he’d used my Dad’s aftershave- the same one I remembered from his kisses on so many Christmas mornings in the past.
“Let me shower up real quick,” I told him. “Coffee’s ready in the kitchen; help yourself. Feel like taking me for a ride this morning? Dad’s taking me to the airport this afternoon.”
Fighting through the cobwebs, Napoleon looked at me and shook his head. “Sure,” he said. “Cool.”
When I stepped into the bathtub, I saw the enema bottle sitting on the rim. Drops of water beaded up over the grease on its beak. I smiled to myself, lathered up real quick, and dried myself off. I couldn’t wait to get dressed and go downstairs.
When I came down the stairs, Napoleon was sitting at the kitchen table, bending his face into a big mug of coffee. He had taken one of my b*****r’s tee-shirts from the drawer of his chest, but otherwise he was wearing the same chaps, jeans and vest he’d worn when I met up with him at my b*****r’s funeral service the day before. I’d fished out my b*****r’s sl**ping bag from our closet, rolled it out, put the dildo my dad cracked my slot with last night, and rolled up again.
“Ready to ride, buddy?” I asked him.
Napoleon got up from the chair, almost knocking it over. “Where we going?” he asked.
“I thought we’d head over to the other side of the Ranchettes,” I said. “My Dad’s got a friend with a lemon grove over there. Some picnic tables under the trees- we’ll spread out Gabe’s sl**ping bag and have the breakfast I packed inside.”
“Let me finish my coffee,” he told me.
I stepped outside on the porch, and lit up a cigar I had poached from my Dad’s humidor. Soon, Napoleon joined me there. “Ready for a ride, fucker!” I barked at him. He shook his head and we walked down to his bike. He handed me some bungee cords to tie the sl**ping bag to the tail of his bike. He kicked it to a roar and I mounted behind him.
He seemed to know where we were going. When we got to the lemon grove, it was already getting hot. He parked his bike under a tree, and I unhitched the sl**ping bag from the tail of his bike.
Fresh air from the ride seemed to rejuvenate him. I spread the sl**ping bag over the first picnic table we came upon, and the dildo fell out. Napoleon squatted down and unzipped his jeans, letting his dick fall out. He pulled down my shorts and sucking me, made me hard. I pulled my t-shirt up over my neck, exposing my chest, and fed him my cock. “Suck that fucker, buddy!” I told him. “Work that load from my balls.”
I kicked my shorts off over my boots, and undressed him while he fought for more of my cock. I pushed him back toward the picnic table with the sl**ping bag across it. He laid back on the table, put his legs in the air, and I ate as his hot ass. I took the big fucking dildo that I had wrapped up in the sl**ping bag, and banged it against his cheeks. I spit all over it. Spreading his ass wide, I parked that spit-covered tool next to his asshole. I licked my thumb and sank it in his ass.
“I don’t think that fucker is gonna work up my virgin ass,” Napoleon told me.
“That’s not the idea, buddy. I just want you to imagine taking that tool in your hole. Open it up and get ready for my spitted up cock inside you!”
I left the dildo parked in his crack and went back to my shorts. I pulled out the cigar I’d hijacked from my dad, lit it, and came back to him. I spread his legs, and between taking drags on my cigar, spit in his ass and hungrily licked it out. His ass tasted sweet to me. I stuck my cigar in his hole, and then parked it in my mouth. I took a handful of spit and rubbed it on my cock. Then I drooled more pit on my dick and put it in his crack.
“I’m gonna fuck you, mister!” I told him with that stogie hanging out of my face. He spread his cheeks wide open with his legs over my shoulder, and I put myself inside of him.
Napoleon moaned and groaned, but he wiggled his ass closer to me and took me in as far as I could go. I bent over his chest, took my cigar out of my mouth, and kissed him. Now we were fucking.
With my cigar between my fingers, I jacked his uncut brown cock. With every spurt of pre-cum, I rolled my cigar in it and stuffed it in my mouth. Fucking. Fucking. Fucking.
Finally, I tossed my spent cigar in the gravel next to the picnic table. I wrapped my arms around his thighs and lifted his ass in the air, thrusting myself into him. The veins on Napoleon’s neck bulged as he jacked his cock while I held him and fucked him. He groaned, and a blast of cum shot out of his sweet dick. At first, my dick leaked into his ass, but then the explosion of cum arrived. My spunk leaked out of his ass and onto my hairy nut sac- and I kept cumming!
About two months after I got back to D.C., I learned my Dad suffered a heart attack and died. I didn’t have time to figure what to make of it, I just had to do what I had to do and take care of it.
As soon as I arrived at the Laredo airport, I grabbed a cab and went home. I unlocked the door and went in. I climbed the stairs and found the door to my old bedroom open. I walked in. The aroma of smoke, shit and cum still hung in the air.
I picked up the phone, and Napoleon’s home phone number was still in the memory. I punched it. The phone rang three times before Cindy answered. “It’s me, Gus, Cindy. Is Napoleon around?”
“Sorry to hear about your dad,” she told me. “Napoleon’s busy right now. I’ll have him call you back.”
To be continued…