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Do not read this story if intergenerational sex among men is not to your taste or somehow illegal in your jurisdiction. Any use of pronouns (dad, mum, son, boy, gramps, uncle) in no way suggests promotion of consensual or nonconsensual sex with minors or any other human person or member of a nonhuman species. This tale is entirely fictional with any similarity to real events or persons being coincidental and unintended. Your mileage may vary. No deposit, no return. Do people read these things? Auto-destruct sequence complete; the ship will self-destruct in six minutes. This notice will not repeat.

Widower”s Benefits (Man/teen, Dad/son, gay incest) — Part 1

by Queer Grampa

I can remember all the way back to my second birthday. I was sitting in a baby high-chair banging both hands on the tray table and crying inconsolably. A birthday cake with two candles lit the darkened kitchen table before me and I could hear bitter sobbing in the living room behind me. Then my favorite auntie picked me up for a cuddle and I stopped crying. The black and white television was bleating about the assassination of President Kennedy. Of course many of these details were filled in over the ensuing decades but what I remember most about that autumn day, November 22, 1963, was an overwhelming sense of loss and fear.

Back in those days my dad would often fall asleep while “looking at telly” (although I have no idea why he doesn”t just say TV or “boob tube” like everyone else). Laying there on his chest, often literally stuck to him skin-to-skin in sweaty weather, I usually didn”t care so much what was on TV unless it was Star Trek or Doctor Who. Dad always said he wanted “my doctor” to be William Hartnell so he waited until the reruns rolled back to the premier episode, which originally aired on my second birthday — the day JFK was killed.

Instead of the TV I was always much more fascinated by the sharp cut of dad”s features, his flawless olive-colored skin, and especially the coarse facial hair that he shaved daily unless we were Up North on a hiking trip. I didn”t understand it at the time but I was consumed by love for my father. Radiance beamed from his face whenever he looked at me and I felt bathed and warmed by the light of his countenance.

Of course Mother was around too, sometimes. She was always very busy; literally, la donna è mobile. Whenever mum came home we celebrated lavishly if her business negotiations were productive, but we always celebrated anyway even if she hadn”t been completely successful. Things would be tuzla escort muted for a while but eventually she was able to shake off her funk and activity in the house would become cheerful again.

Everything changed quickly one summer when mum suffered a string of setbacks that led to losing her job. Dad and I did everything we could, and we both knew all the tricks to bring up her mood, but ultimately she chose to die by her own hand. Obviously that was a very bad time for all of us. But I think it brought me and dad closer in the end so it seems like something good came out of our tragedy.

Not long after mum died I sprouted hairs in my underarms and “down there”; soon dad got a big surprise during my bath. Afterwards, he sat me down and told me that I was becoming a big boy and it was time I should begin washing myself. I suddenly felt a bit abandoned and argued with him, negotiating it down to showering together the way we do in gym class at school. I helped him talk himself into it; learning to be comfortable with my body was a worthy goal. It turns out I picked up skills from observing mum all these years.

Dad had the house changed while we were away on our next hiking/camping trip. I was completely unaware that he had combined both of our bathrooms to create a locker room and shower, but more like the one at dad”s gym than the one at my high school. Next to a wooden sauna and tiled steam room, six shower heads flooded a big corner of the lavatory. Surprisingly, the water closet included two side-by-side floor-mounted soapstone urinals as well as commode and bidet. Dad”s people came to America from Britain during World War II and he says he is accustomed to a different style of living. Apparently that includes plumbing.

During that hiking trip we had a long time to talk. At one point we were sitting by the camp fire when dad came unglued while we were reminiscing about mum. When he began to cry I rose to hug him and he just collapsed into my arms, his body wracked with spasms of grief and despair. After all those years with mum, I understood that my job right now was to remain silent. Dad”s sobs gradually ran out and he was quiet for a while before he said, “When did you become a Samaritan?” I blushed and just said, “Mum.” That set us both off again and we clutched at each other for what seemed like hours until we both ran out of tears, more or less together.

Then something unexplained happened. Dad kissed me right on the mouth and said, “I love you son.” Lately he hadn”t been very physical and his arms felt so good around me that I sort of melted into him. Somehow our mouths met again but this time it was much more primal and aggressive. We both sought tuzla escort bayan some kind of dominance, almost as if we were wrestling with our mouths and tongues.

Suddenly dad grabbed my shoulders and forcibly pushed me away. His eyes cleared a bit and I could see his civilized nature trying to reassert itself. He shook his head a couple of times and said, “This isn”t right.”

I pushed him backwards onto the blanket and fell along with him, landing together and knocking the wind out of him with a surprised grunt. “Fuck that,” I growled and kissed him hard, pushing his arms up over his head and lightly pinning him to the ground; his underarm funk was intoxicating! He resisted for just a beat then time seemed to stop as our mouths and souls merged, a moment or a lifetime in equal measure. We wrestled there in the dark by the campfire, exploring and playing together as if we had been lovers all our lives. We did it all, both of us, with glorious revelry and not a bit of inhibition. Whatever dad may have lacked in technique he certainly made up with enthusiasm! My sexy dad sucked and fucked like a starving beast; I subsequently learned he had a boyfriend in his youth but then was entirely faithful and devoted to his wife, my mother. I was surprised and delighted by dad”s determination to get through his entire repertoire and helped him fill in the gaps, mostly rimming and docking. He seemed pleased with what I learned from my teammates at school.

When the sun came up we picked the pine needles out of our asscracks and enjoyed breakfast while lounging in the nude together, touching and kissing like newlyweds. We had nothing left to hide from one another after we both tasted cum and ass straight from the tap.

After eating we talked and edged together for hours until finally blowing in each other”s mouth in a 69. Dad choked first as I hoovered up his jizz like a pro, so I pulled my cock from his mouth with a loud POP and moved up to lick his messy face. We collapsed into fits of laughter until our ribs hurt then lay naked together in the morning sun, free and easy.

I woke up in the truck on the road home, nude, hard, with dad”s hand softly jacking my cock. “Hello sleepyhead,” he cooed. I looked around and saw everything stowed just as it should be, my sightline returning to my father whose apparel and turgidity was equal to my own. “Fuuuuck, dad!” I briefly lost my mind, falling upon his exposed erection like a starving vampire, sucking his beautiful uncut cock aggressively, jamming the entire length down my gullet until I could tickle his belly by wrinkling my nose and swallowing. He didn”t even have time to cry out before his big hairy balls spasmed and flooded escort tuzla my stomach with a fresh load.

His breathing sounded pretty ragged so I suggested he pull over at the next rest area. This turned out to be a nice shady spot with a picnic table, an overflowing trash can, and one of those PortaBush toilet things. There were no other cars in sight but Dad was a bit slow to get out of the truck, I assumed because he was naked. But at least his dick wasn”t standing up, not now anyway. I jumped out of the pickup, dashed across the car park and scrambled up the sandy bank at the back of the site, then turned and taunted my father who was still trying to decide if he should get out. “Come on, dad! You have to see this view!” Then I dropped below the crest, letting him wonder where I went.

As expected, he jumped down from the truck and followed behind, yelling for me to come back. I repeated my call for him to come over the dune to see the view. When dad reached the back of the site and looked over the small rise, his gaze locked onto my naked upturned ass presenting a tiny red cherry for his inspection. How could anyone resist? Dad fell to his knees and began to fuck me with his tongue, always careful to avoid introducing sand into the field of battle, as it were. We quickly were both moaning in passion and delight. Dad rolled me over and started kissing and slobbering all over my junk before sliding his mouth up my abs to chew on both nipples, nearly driving me crazy with lust. I cried out in passion and some unknown voice replied, “Hello?”

I immediately sat up and put my finger over dad”s mouth, winked at him, then quickly poked my head up around the crest of the little dune. An RV was parked in front of our truck next to the picnic table where a woman was feeding several small children. The voice belonged to a man with his cock out, pissing on the saplings behind the PortaBush. My gaze took in his muscular frame dusted all over with red hair, a true ginger Viking, bulgy in all the right places with just a bit of a dad-bod.

My cock flushed with blood and must have risen up to have a one-eyed look at him because his eyes shifted to my crotch and he grinned. I looked down at Dad, still silent beside me, and asked him if he trusted me. He nodded and playfully nibbled at my hand; I looked back at the ginger giant and gave my best come-hither smile and nod. He glanced back at the wife then padded quietly to follow me behind the PortaBush and around the dune, his big cock proudly leading the way.

End of Widower”s Benefits – Part 1

– – – – –

“Hate is always foolish and Love is always wise. Be kind.”

Life is too short to be miserable. Be good to each other.

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