Another classic from my second set of Thanksgiving Tales. Stay tuned for more…
“I’m sorry I couldn’t make it,” Pete said.
“It’s no sweat at all, bud,” I smiled, leaning back in my desk chair, taking a sip of my bourbon. “I know how it is. Short break, long way to travel…”
“Plus, I’m up to my ass getting ready for finals, too,” he said, sitting back in his own chair with a heavy sigh. For an instant, I could see the stress on his handsome face, half-shadowed by his ballcap. I don’t know why he had one on – he was indoors, and it was late in the evening, but he looked good in it. It worked well with his close-fitting old Abercrombie T-shirt, his clean-cut, all-American college-boy good looks. I was glad I’d ponied up for the newest MacBook for him over the summer – it had a great camera on it, the pin-sharp image of Pete in his dorm room in my Skype window belying the thousand miles of physical distance between us.
“Did you have a good time anyway?” he went on.
“It’s been alright,” I nodded. “Nice and quiet. I had lunch with your uncle and his crew, and the rest of the time’s been all mine. Good chance to unwind a little before the end-of-year crush. Did you call your mother?”
“Yeah, and she was a little pissed I decided not to come,” he said, rolling his eyes again. “But whatever, I’ll see her in a few weeks for Christmas, I guess.”
“Yeah, being pissed is pretty much your mother’s primary occupation these days,” I said with a wry half-grin. “She’ll get over it. Hell, she’s probably trying to find a way to blame me for it, but her alimony check’s gonna hit her bank next week, so that should help her mood improve.”
“You’re doing OK, though?” he asked, and I felt that warm glow of love for my kid, for the solicitous way he asked. His mother and I weren’t together anymore, but we’d done a pretty good job with him – he’d turned out smart, conscientious, and caring. Him and me had always been especially tight, and he’d been there for me all the way through the divorce, in a way I’d always appreciate.
“You don’t need to worry about me, Pete,” I smiled. “Trust me, I’m doing great. It’d be better with you here, of course, but you’re a man now, and that means making a man’s choices. I’m glad you’re staying focused on the important stuff, like your schooling, not busting ass to make it home for a holiday.”
“Well, I’m not gonna lie,” he said with a sly half-grin that was a lot like mine. “It’s nice having the room to myself. Whole dorm’s basically empty, so it’s like I got the run of the place. And with Harris gone, I can do pretty much anything I like in here.”
“Oh yeah?” I grinned, because I had a pretty good idea of how my boy would be using his freedom.
“Yeah,” he said, that grin of his stretching mischievously, as he rolled his desk chair back a little, giving me more of a view of him through the webcam. He was wearing a pair of flannel lounge pants – I thought of them as PJs, but I guess they were being pitched as “dorm wear” these days. Whatever, they looked good on him too, as he stood up from his desk chair, his midsection filling the screen. I took another slow sip on my drink, savoring it as his fingers untied the knot on the pants, and then slowly slid them down. Underneath, he had on a pair of trunks that skimmed the tops of his athletic thighs, and more than that, accentuated the thickness of his young college-boy bulge. A bulge that got visibly thicker as he groped himself on cam for me, running his hand back and forth over the handsome young piece he had packed away in those sexy little shorts of his.
“Anything I like, Dad,” he grinned, sitting back down, propping one foot up on the edge of his seat as he rested his elbow on the armrest and displayed himself for me, slowly rubbing his crotch with a smile. “Anything at all.”
“I bet you’ve probably been working that piece of yours pretty much non-stop since your roomie cleared out for the holiday, kid,” I grinned, pushing my own chair back a little to give him a better view through his cam, and giving the steady-growing bulge in my jeans a grope.
“That’s a bet you’d win, sir,” he said, that husky little edge starting to show through in his voice. “Shot two loads Tuesday night alone, being as loud as I liked.”
“That right, son?” I growled, slow-stroking myself into full, thick hardness.
“Yep,” he said proudly, his hand in his groin sliding back and forth, matching mine. “Imagining you were coming to pick me up to bring me home. That you and me might… hang out some, before we hit the road.”
“Like we did at move-in week, huh kid?” I said, remembering very clearly how he’d locked the door behind us after we’d gotten the last of his stuff inside, and slipped right into my arms. The way he’d bucked his ass back against me as I fucked him on his new dorm-room bed, and made him christen the new mattress protector we’d just bought for it.
“Yessir, just like that,” he grinned. “Only, more too.”
“Go on,” I said, sipping my drink and unzipping my fly, letting him see the big white-clad bulge of my cock pushing out from between it.
“I woke up Wednesday and took my time with my cock, Dad,” he said. “A nice, slow, wet stroke session. Imagining it was your hand, not mine. That you’d slept over with me in my dorm room. That you were spooning me, and bringing me off. Teasing my cock. Making my load really build, y’know?”
I knew, alright. His first night staying at my place after the divorce, he’d slept in my bed, the two of us giddy on the sexy freedom of finally being able to do it as freely as we wanted to. As much as we wanted to. It had been amazing, having him in my arms the whole night, and I’d rewarded him with just such a slow-jack to wake him up the next morning, his hot athlete’s body squirming back into my embrace as I nuzzled his neck, felt up his hot young muscles, and worked his big, hard teen cock to a throbbing, hard-shooting cum.
“Bet you shot a nice fat load, son,” I said, rubbing the increasingly damp patch where the tip of my cock was pulsing against the confines of my underwear. Watching him watch me do it through the cam, and mimic me. Thrilling to the vibe, as we showed off to each other.
“Such a big fuckin’ load, Dad,” he said huskily. “Shot it all up my front, all over my abs and my chest, just like it was your hand aiming my cock, sir. Making me cum all over myself for you.”
“Fuck yeah, bud,” I moaned, lifting my hips and shucking my jeans down.
“Fuck, you’re so hard,” Pete murmured, leaning in a little closer to watch. “Big fuckin’ Dad cock.”
“Hard for you, buddy,” I grinned, pulling the fabric of my boxer briefs tighter to my bulge so he could see.
“Hard for your own son,” he grinned, nodding.
“Just like you’re hard for your own Dad, kid,” I nodded back, loving the sexy way his grin widened, his nod back at me.
“I kept thinking about that all through my class that morning, Dad,” he said, leaning back in his chair, groping himself, his voice low and steady and husky. “Thinking about you being here in my dorm room, waiting for me. Waiting to fuck with me some more.”
“Stay hard through class, bud?” I asked, though I already knew the answer.
“Fuck yeah I did, Dad,” he nodded. “Had on my sweat pants, and I was throwing serious wood. Had to sit in the back of the lecture hall. I might have been a little obvious.”
“I bet your classmates wouldn’t have minded seeing that show, bud,” I said. “Seeing your cock tenting your sweats. I bet you would’ve liked them to see you. Throwing a bone, thinking about your own Dad.”
“Aw fuck,” Pete grunted, scrunching his eyes closed as he gripped himself. “Almost wanted to take it out, play with it, get it nice and wet. Edge myself the whole 50 minutes. Right there in class, Dad.”
He looked me dead in the eyes through the camera, and I felt the lusty prickle run up my spine.
“I could get it throbbing and sticky, Dad. Get myself edged right the fuck up. All tented up in my sweats, getting my briefs all sticky with pre. Bring it back to my dorm room for you to see.”
He paused again, and we sat there, staring at each other as we felt ourselves up, showing each other how hot we were.
“But you weren’t here, Dad,” he said after a heavy-breathing minute of mutual stroking. “It was just me, and my cock, all alone.”
“That’s too bad, son,” I murmured. “So what’d you do with that fat college-boy cock of yours, kid?”
Pete grinned at me, and slowly stood up, giving me an even closer view of how outrageously hard he was in his little designer trunks. The ones I’d gotten him for his birthday this past summer, that we’d both soaked several times with our loads. Hell, his second week back on campus, I’d received a package in the mail with a State College return address – those very trunks, sealed in a Ziploc bag, heady with his young cum dried into the fabric. I’d shot three loads into them and mailed them right back to him, and two days later he’d texted me a picture of his cock, all glossy and still red-tipped, and the trails of fresh-shot cum he’d laid down over the top of mine on his thoroughly-used trunks.
They looked even better on him now, as he turned back and forth in front of his cam for me, showing me the high, tight curve of his ass in profile, then around to show me the muscular globes in full view, before completing the turn to face the camera, the front of those trunks absolutely crammed with hard young college-boy cock. Slowly, teasingly, he inched the shorts down, showing off his dark, trimmed bush, down to the root of his cock, giving me a teasing glimpse of its thickness before he slipped his hand inside to grope himself.
“I took off my sweats, sir,” he said, all low and husky, his midsection filling the screen. “Locked the door, kicked back on my bed, and I kept on edging my fucking dick, Dad. Thinking about us. What we could do. Thinking about getting in my car and driving straight to your house.”
“Long drive, son,” I said, sliding my own hand inside my boxer briefs, getting a good, tingling feel of my big piece as I watched him fondle himself.
“Worth it though, Dad,” he said, his face still off-screen. “Because I know you’d be waiting for me, your fat cock all hard, ready to kiss me and get me naked and take me to bed.”
He leaned down, his handsome face up close to the cam, filling the Skype window as he shot me that sexy grin.
“Take your own son to bed and fuck with him all night, am I right, Dad?”
“So fuckin’ right, kid,” I grunted, hauling my fat piece out as he watched, seeing his eyes widen as he bit his lip in that hungry look I’d come to know so well.
“I bet you’ve been using your quiet time alone to play with that big fucking cock of yours too, huh Dad?” he said, gazing at it as I lifted my hips up to show it to him, stroking it, getting the head nice and wet and shiny.
“Like a fucking teenager, son,” I growled. “Like the teenager I raised. Like you’ve always played with yours. As much as I could, as long as I could, shooting as much cum as I wanted to, and coming back for more.”
“Fuck yeah,” he grunted, standing back up straight, hooking his thumbs in his waistband, and slipping his much-abused trunks down his hard-muscled thighs. His cock snapped out, swinging naturally upright with the resilience of youth, the tip as fat and precum-sticky as mine.
“Guess I’m a chip off the ol’ block, huh big guy?” he grinned, sitting back down, thighs spread as he sprawled back in his desk chair. He adjusted his ballcap on his head again, all cocky, handsome smirk, just the barest glimpse of his eyes as he took his big, upstanding young dick in hand and gave it a slow fisting for me.
“You’re Daddy’s boy alright, son,” I growled back, wondering if he could hear the slick sound my cock was making as I worked my foreskin up and down over the shiny head.
“Fuck yes I am,” he sighed, his eyes drifting closed as we set to jacking ourselves for each other for a minute, breaths coming harsh and lusty. His cock was a thing of beauty, uncut like me, not crazy long, but thick and hefty. His big shaved balls were pulled tight to the base of his shaft – balls that I’d shaved for him for most of the summer, making them all soft and silky on my tongue when I worked him over – and I wondered how long he’d been edging himself today, before we Skyped in. I listened to the soft, lewd squelching sound of his big piece lubricating itself, his soft, lusty grunts and pants, and felt my own big balls tightening with a mix of lust, love, and paternal pride.
“So then what did you do, kid?” I said after a minute or two, before we got too sidetracked. I loved hearing him talk about his lusts and his cock and what he liked to do with himself. Made the distance between us seem smaller. Made it easier to bide our time until we got together again in the flesh.
“Well, I musta stroked on this cock of mine for a good thirty, forty-five minutes,” he grinned. “Nice and slow, building myself up, then easing back. Just like you showed me how to do. Making my balls fuckin’ boil, Dad.”
“Good boy,” I growled. It had been a hell of a lot of fun with him in the early days of our close bond, making him cum and cum and cum again with horny teenage intensity. But the weekend last Christmas break when I taught him about edging, making him go a full day without shooting his load, keeping him on the boil, had been a revelation to him. The way he positively fountained nearly a dozen hard, thick shots of his cum up my torso as he writhed on my cock, shooting hands-free as I drilled him deep, had made me cum almost as hard.
“And then,” he said with a husky sigh, staring down at his cock as he slow-stroked it, “I put my sweats back on and went to the gym. Wednesday afternoon, nobody there but me and the front-desk dude. Working up a good sweat, thinking about you and me, thinking about fucking the front-desk kid in the locker room, thinking about you joining him and me…”
“Fuck, that one you sent me the pic of?” I said, thinking about the big, hot blond Phys Ed major he’d told me about, the hunky piece of ass who pulled work-study shifts in the campus gym.
“The very same,” Pete grinned from under his ballcap. “You and me and him would make a fucking hot scene, Dad. Put that hot bro in a dad-son sandwich.”
“I’d be down for that,” I grinned.
“I know you would, big guy,” Pete said. “But that’s another story for another time. Because I took my sweaty ass back to my room, my cock fucking tingling the whole way. Got naked right here in this chair, and pulled up those pics I have of you.”
One of the things Pete had semi-guiltily, semi-heatedly confessed to me, when we were starting out together, was how long he’d been crushing on me for, aided by a folder on his desktop full of pics he’d been accumulating of me over the years. Pics on the boat, pics at the beach, pics in our old pool, even old pics from my high school and college days, me in my football gear, that he’d found and scanned. A pic of me from when he was a baby that his mother had taken down in Jacksonville, me in swim trunks, standing in the Atlantic surf, big and young and shirtless, holding little Pete in my arms. A folder of pics that had been supplemented even more over recent years, pics he’d taken of me in more intimate settings, pics I’d taken of myself and sent to him, all diligently saved in that password-protected folder on his desktop. The summer before he left for his freshman year at Penn, he’d helped me put a similar one together for myself, full of all kinds of pics of him, that had almost completely replaced my stash of porn.
“Pete’s Daddy spank bank, huh buddy,” I smiled now.
“My favorite stroke material, Dad,” he grunted back, grinning at me. “I stroked this fucking cock of mine looking at all those pics of you again, Dad, imagining you were here with me, sitting right by me, you and me jacking off together, talking about how hot you are. How boned your kid’s always been for you, big guy.”
“Fuck,” I grunted, always stunned and thrilled and gratified by the depths of my big kid’s lust for me.
“How hot it’d have been to fuck you when you were a big college stud, Dad,” Pete went on. “To meet you when you were a big young Dad on Jacksonville Beach. Hook up with you in the dunes, get your new-dad cum all over me.”
“Jesus christ,” I growled at that, because I could picture that very clearly in my head, horny 24-year-old me sneaking away from my wife and my baby to hook up with some hot, athletic young college kid in the night-dark dunes.
“But you know what finally got me to bust, Dad? What got me to shoot my all-day load I worked up, thinking about you and me, sir?” Pete said, looking me in the eyes now, feeling like he was looking right into my damn soul even through the camera,
“Fuck, tell me, son,” I grunted, my cockhead thoroughly soaked with precum now, my balls roiling, feeling that triggery tingle in the core of my cock as I stroked faster, watching him match his strokes to mine.
Pete opened up his palm and spat in it, slapping it onto the already-wet head of his big young dick, and I did the same. Watched him slip one hand up underneath his T-shirt, pushing it up to show me the crunch and flex of his hard-cut abs, the trail of dark fur that surrounded his bellybutton. Pushing it all the way up to the base of his solid, square young pecs, showing me his stiff nip as he tweaked it, like I’d shown him how to do when we were starting out. I mirrored that too, thrilling to the tingle it sent through me, tweaking my thick, sensitive man tits, the ones Pete still liked to suck and nurse on when we messed around, before we got down to the real fucking.
“What made me cum, Dad… and made me cum hard, so fuckin’ hard, was imagining coming back to this dorm room… coming back all sweaty and boned up from my workout, and finding you here, waiting for me… naked in my bed here, Dad… naked and boned, and smiling… waiting for your son…”
“Waiting for my boy,” I groaned, as he nodded.
“Waiting for me to get naked for you, Dad,” he went on, stroking faster now, his cockhead glazed with his spit and precum, his biceps pumped up hard and flexing beautifully as he worked himself over. “Get in my bed, all close and tight to you, feed you my fuckin’ tongue, our big fuckin’ family cocks sliding all hard and wet as we made out… your big hands on my fuckin’ ass, feelin’ my muscles all over…”
“Sexy jockboy muscles, buddy,” I growled.
“Hard jockboy muscles for my Dad,” he moaned, nodding. “Feelin’ your thick Dadstud bod all over too… sliding down to suck on your fat cock…”
“Fat Daddy cock I made you with, kiddo,” I panted.
“Aw fuck yeah, fuckin’ son-making Daddy cock, all thick and wet and salty in my mouth, makin’ you leak for me, big guy… makin’ you so damn wet for your boy… and dippin’ down to lick your hole, make you all wet down there too…”
My hole literally tingled at that, so much so that I had to reach down and touch it, grunting with pleasure. Pete had taken to eating ass like a duck to water, one of his favorite of the man lessons I’d taught him that hot, hazy summer we’d first become more together.
“Yeah Dad, touch your hole for me, big guy,” my boy growled now, watching me avidly, his voice heavy with lust and pure man. “Touch it like my tongue’s gonna touch it… like I was licking at you, right here in my dorm room bed…”
“Eating your Dad’s hairy fuckin’ hole like a champ, stud,” I panted, swirling my own finger round myself, then pressing to that spot. Feeling that deep-seated thrill pulsing inside of me, at my core.
“Me eating it, licking it, licking inside of you, big guy… getting you wet… getting you ready…”
“Aw fuck…” I muttered.
“That’s right, Dad,” Pete growled, locking eyes on mine, a lusty gleam to them that I could make out even through the video connection.
“That’s what made me bust my fucking cumload, Dad. My all-day load. Imagining how it would feel… how tight and hot you’d be… how you’d moan, and open up… how you’d let your own son inside of you… let me slide my fat… fuckin’… cock up inside your tight hairy hole, Dad.”
“Oh shit,” I grunted, my hand a blur on my cock now, seeing what he was describing in my mind as clear as reality. We’d never done that. I know he’d been thinking about it. I had too, even though it had been a damn long time since I’d had more than a finger or a tongue up there… but my boy was all man, all stud, all my stud, and if anybody was gonna be the one to take me back to that place, on my back and stuffed full of hard, bare cock, it’d be Pete. It’d be my boy. My little guy, all grown up, showing me the man he was.
“Fucking your ass like you fuck me, Dad,” Pete moaned, and I could hear how close to the edge he was now too. “Right here in my dorm room bed, fucking your sexy ass for the first time. Fucking my cumload inside you, like you do to me. Making you feel as good as you make me feel, big guy. Making you cum like your cock makes me cum, Dad.”
“Yeah, I bet you could, Petey,” I groaned, my voice all gritty with my impending orgasm. “Make your Dad shoot like a teenager all over again, with your big stud kid dick.”
“It’d be my pleasure, sir,” he said, and there was a polite, serious earnestness to his voice that told me just how sincere this was. Not a fantasy – a plan. “You’ve made me cum so much, so well, with your big fat Dad dick in me… I know I could do the same for you, Dad.”
“Yeah you could, buddy,” I grunted, looking at him as my body started to writhe, my balls ready to let loose. “Do your Dad proud. Do me like the man you are.”
“Yeah, can I, Dad?” he moaned. “Be your man? Be your guy like that?”
“Christmas, buddy,” I grunted through gritted teeth. “You and me. That’s your Christmas present. Your Dad’s ass, any way you want it.”
“Oh fuck!” he gasped, his fist a blur on his fat, wet college-kid cock. “Gonna fuck my Dad’s ass…”
“Gonna fuck your cum into me, big guy… and fuck my cum out of me…”
“Make you cum so hard…”
“Fuck your stud kid load into me deep, son… breed your own Dad up…”
“Aw SHITTTTT!” Pete yelled, and I watched his tight athletic body tense up hard, his nips stiff as bullets, his biceps tight, hard bunches of big young muscle, his fist working his cock rapid-fire… and then his whole-body shudder as thick white jets of young stud cum started to fire out of his hefty young cock, all up his twitching muscles, clear up to his shoulder and onto the backrest of his desk chair. God damn, I loved seeing him cum, knowing I was making him cum, and when he stared at me, his face still working with his orgasm, and moaned “Ah Dad…” I fucking lost it.
“Fuckin’ cumming,” I gasped, and started to shower myself with it, all over my old Penn State T-shirt, hard, heavy, hot blasts of thick father’s cum painting my stomach and chest, shooting harder than I had since he’d left for his sophomore year this year. It was a hell of a cum, and I collapsed back in my chair, chest heaving, feeling the sweat on my face and my scalp and my chest, as my hot seed soaked slowly into my well-worn old shirt, my big dick twitching and oozing in my grasp.
“Shit Dad,” Pete sighed after a moment. “You got no idea how bad I wish I was there right now, so I could clean you up.”
“Likewise, bud,” I chuckled weakly, heaving out a deep sigh of exertion. “Hell, I wish I was there, so we could stroll down to the showers on your floor and maybe work up a second one together.”
“They don’t have those anymore, Dad,” he chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Maybe back in your day. We all got our own bathrooms now. Still, though… that’d be hot as fuck.”
“You got no idea, kid,” I winked. “I’ll tell you some more stories about that, some day.”
“At Christmas, yeah?” he said, grinning.
“We’ll talk a lot at Christmas, believe me,” I grinned back. “Talk, and more. Much more.”
“Fuck yeah, Dad,” Pete said, and already it looked like he was ready to stroke his dick back into hardness and go all over again. “You promise?”
“I meant what I said, bud,” I nodded. “About everything. You just bring your fine ass… and your fine-ass cock… home for Christmas, and you’ll see.”
“Jesus,” he murmured, staring lustily at me. “I can’t fucking wait.”
“Me either, kiddo,” I grinned. “Until then… talk again tomorrow?”
“You bet your ass we will, big guy,” he grinned back.
“I think I already did,” I chuckled.
“Yep, and I’ll be home to collect on that bet real soon, big guy,” he said, sitting forward, and the look in his eye, all hungry and manly and ready to roll, sent a hot thrill through me. Every bit his father’s son, this one, for sure.
“Meantime, we’ll talk tomorrow, Dad,” he said.
“Looking forward to it, son,” I said. “Every damn bit of it.”
The End
(Copyright A4F Tales 2020)
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