Written with Corporal Cody
Charlottesville, February 2005
Early February came, classes were back in full swing and it was time for the UVA Baseball team’s annual “Step Up to the Plate” fundraiser, which was held on a Friday evening that year. Dad put in for some leave time and was able to make it to this year’s dinner as promised. This year felt like a bigger occasion because of my award, and my father seemed to be in a real great mood all evening.
Back in Norfolk, Dad had even taken me shopping for a new suit for the occasion, since I’d outgrown a lot of my nicer clothes from high school. Dad had always taught us the basic necessity of having one good suit and one good blazer, and I came to enjoy the ritual of going into Dad’s tailor for adjustments. On the day of the event, Dad showed up at my apartment late that afternoon, garment bag in hand with my new navy suit. And when I tried it on, indeed it fit me pretty damn well.
We sat now at a large round table in Memorial Gymnasium having dinner. Sophomore pitcher and my best friend on the team, Kyle Avery was there, as well as our teammate Jordan with his parents, along with a couple of alumni boosters at our table. Dad was in his element at these kinds of events, more than me. He seemed to bond with Jordan’s parents, and I was glad he was able to meet Kyle, my roommate for next year since Holt would be graduating.
It was a cool event, just because it felt like a celebration of Cavaliers baseball and the work we put in. But I had some mixed feelings about this year’s event, since the guest of honor and main speaker was legendary manager Tommy Lasorda. Over the last year I’d read Billy Bean’s biography about being gay and closeted in the major leagues, and had started following the website, Outsports at Scott’s suggestion. It was reassuring knowing that I wasn’t alone and there were almost certainly other gay college players in the closet just like me.
These didn’t change my reality. I knew I had to stay closeted for baseball. I put up with a lot of casual slurs from teammates, including from guys who I considered my friends. It’s hard to explain, but I was oddly able to compartmentalize it all. Like I was one version of Jim McGrath around them, and another around Holt, Scott, my sex partners, and even my family. I knew it wasn’t ideal, but it was working for me.
But something about Lasorda made me sad, and a little mad. Denying his own gay son, even in death… it made me really appreciate my own father.
If I was moody during Lasorda’s speech, Dad didn’t notice. He was just thrilled I was getting a Student Athlete award. Honestly, for Dad, that was just as big as if I’d gotten team MVP. Maybe more. The whole dinner he had an unmistakable smile on his face, and after a while, it was infectious. I had felt like an imposter posing as one of the “good student” types. But the more I looked at Dad, the more I was starting to feel proud, too.
Particularly when a few guys shouted my last name as I went up to get the award from the Associate Athletic Director.
After it was done, I did some schmoozy small talk with a few of the boosters, since I think that was expected of us, then I had a bunch of pictures to take with the Coaches, the Athletic Directors, and some folks from the university’s administration.
After a group photo, one of the guys from the Alumni Affairs office stuck around to introduce himself to me.
“Andy Pressman,” he said as he shook my hand with a firm corporate grip. “Congratulations, Jim.”
“Thanks, sir,” I said.
The clean-cut, older guy in a trim navy suit with a striped tie smiling back at me pushed all of my buttons, and then some. Late 40s, fine as fuck. He was about my height with short, styled, graying brown hair and brown eyes, and dimples that gave his smiling face a boyish quality to offset his middle-aged handsomeness. And his trim body looked really fucking good in that tailored suit. I may have been in a submissive role lately with Rear Admiral Henson, but I suddenly wanted to bend this man over one of the dining tables, yank down those tailored pants, eat out his hole, and then feed him my 8-inch baseball bat.
“You can call me Andy,” he said with a jocular smile that pulled me out of my fantasy. “Save the ‘sir’ business for the AD.”
I laughed. “All right, Andy.”
“You certainly make our job easier. Donors love to know our athletes are here to learn, not just play ball.” He was friendly and on the surface there was nothing unusual or flirty about what Pressman was saying. But my mind wandered for sure. This guy was hot. Older, athletic build, probably a former ball player, and still handsome.
Just then a photographer came up to take our picture for the website and newsletter. As I posed next to Pressman, I felt his hand grip my shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze. Not lecherous, really, but the touch felt sensual and exciting – even through my suit jacket.
“Well, I am going to make the rounds,” he said with a friendly smile, patting my shoulder before stepping back and offering his hand for another shake. “Congratulations again, Jim.”
“Thanks, sir,” I said, slipping automatically into my deferential politeness. I could sense a silent “told you to call me Andy” reaction in his smile. He just gave me a nod and turned to go back towards the group of university admins.
I had to get my mind off sex, I laughed to myself as I wandered back through the crowd, finally settling at one of that tables and talking with teammates Jeff, Jordan and Kyle.
“Too bad your folks couldn’t come up, Avery,” Jordan said.
Kyle just shrugged. “It’s a long way.” Kyle’s from Georgia around Atlanta. “Besides, it’s just a banquet… I’ll see them over Spring Break.”
“I thought you’d be hanging out with Julie over Break,” Jeff grinned. Kyle had started going steady with a new girlfriend and some of the guys on the team teased him for getting serious so quickly with her.
Kyle seemed to take the ribbing in stride. “Yeah, I’ll probably be hanging out with her, too, when I get back,” he smirked knowingly.
We were mid conversation when I felt a large firm hand on my shoulder and a smooth and familiar baritone voice in my ear. “Got time for a picture with your old man?”
I looked up to see Dad grinning down at me. He had a fellow baseball dad with his camera, ready to take a picture for us. We posed for a couple then Dad took back his camera and thanked the man.
“I’m so proud of you, son,” he said, giving me that sincere, handsome grin as I stood next to him and blushed.
The event was over by 9:00, and Dad and I walked out of the banquet hall in a great mood. Dad was staying over at the Courtyard just off campus, but it was still early, so there was no real rush as we leisurely strolled down the sidewalk in the cold night air making some superficial small talk. Dad looked effortlessly masculine and attractive in his suit with his fresh Navy haircut as he checked the military watch on his wrist. “You feel like grabbing a drink, Jimbo?” He turned to face me as he stuck his large hands in the pockets of trousers.
I readily agreed and we made our way downtown and to a nicer, more upscale bar, which wasn’t too crowded. We took our seats at the end of the bar where Dad ordered a scotch neat, and I got a nice bourbon on the rocks. It felt like a special occasion.
Now with our drinks, Dad shifted and turned in his bar seat to face me, one elbow on the mahogany bar top, his other hand resting on his thigh. I took a slow sip of my bourbon, listening to the two ice cubes ring in the glass. I surveyed the ambiently lit room – a quieter post dinner crowd with a more professional look, and probably a lot of folks who worked at the university. When I turned my head back I caught Dad’s bright grey eyes watching me. Despite being with him all evening, I found him so strikingly handsome at that very moment. The low light in the room somehow made his thick brown hair look darker and his greying temples more silver and refined. He had that same classic Navy officer haircut, clean-cut and parted to the side with meticulous care. I loved his square jaw, the fresh shave of the day fading as the shadow of stubble darkened his chin and cheeks. His steel-colored eyes seemed to shine just behind the prominent ridge of his strong Roman nose. From the slight smile just behind the stoic line of his lips, I could tell Dad was in a great mood.
Dad always looked handsome, but he was magnificent in his charcoal suit. The tailoring was a little different than his Navy uniforms but both complemented his broad-chested, muscular, military build. Even as the fine wool jacket seemed to slim his figure, the cut made his shoulders look more rounded and powerful. I didn’t want to perv on him too much, especially on an occasion that was so important to him, and me too. But I did sneak a good look at his body and face when I had the chance.
“So, you ready for baseball season?” he asked as I set down my drink.
“I think so,” I said, turning my body to face his as well, matching his relaxed posture. “There’s always that anticipation. You know you’re doing the right things, but you don’t know if it’s going to pay off.”
“I have a good feeling, Slugger,” he grinned. “But however it turns out, you gotta know, I’m the happiest father right now.”
I blushed, letting my goofy smile shine a bit. “Aw, Dad.”
He smiled. “I know you don’t always like it when I get mushy.”
I sat back up. “Can I confess something?” I asked. “I usually do. Maybe I don’t always show it. But deep down, yeah, that’s what I love about you, Dad. You’re not afraid to show yourself. With any of us.”
Dad’s grey eyes misted up before he took a blink to hold it in. “You’re gonna make me lose it, Slugger?” he replied with a hint of humor. I think the beer with dinner had opened him up emotionally and I was seeing a side of Dad I didn’t always see.
“I’m just glad you came. Even if it wasn’t as exciting as meeting Ripken.” I almost didn’t want to wash my hand after shaking his,” I said.
Dad chuckled. He leaned in a bit and lowered his voice. “You got a crush on The Iron Man?” he asked, his gray eyes twinkling.
I shook my head with a playful smile. “Nah. Just hero worship.” I took another sip of my bourbon, savoring the pleasant burn and the sweet-oaky flavor. “You know, I never really go for baseball guys. Don’t know what it is.”
I still wasn’t sure why I was wired that way, but it was the truth. Maybe it was because I’d compartmentalized baseball and everything associated with it to be just that – baseball. It was funny, Dad knew I liked older men. He’d asked about it in Mexico. So it was still a trip to talk about my preferences with Dad, but I appreciated his openness.
I think Dad was surprised to hear my confession, but he nodded as he thumbed and turned his glass on the bar. “You seeing anyone these days, Slugger?” Dad asked sincerely.
“No, sir,” I replied with a shake of my head. “Living the bachelor life,” I half joked.
He looked at me earnestly. “I never know if I should be asking you about your love life or if you’d rather I stop pestering you.” He leaned back in the bar seat. “I just want you happy, you know.”
“It’s cool, Dad. I know I’ll find someone serious eventually. But for now, I think I need to just take things as they come.”
“I know how you feel,” he said before taking another sip of his scotch.
I hadn’t checked in on Dad’s dating life, but I figured he’d tell me if he was seeing someone important. Of course I hadn’t taken the news of his girlfriend a couple years back very well, but I had to hope that things would be different now. And seeing the expression on his face, I got an inkling of an idea he’d been enjoying some casual sex himself. Good for him. “Sowing your oats, old man?” I teased, taking liberties to give him a gentle ribbing.
“Maybe,” he said with a cagey expression as he sat back up straight. “A man’s got needs.”
I chuckled. That was answer enough.
Dad ordered us another round of drinks, doubles this time. Our conversation had turned to more mundane topics, but it was great to hang out with him and bond like this.
We were both starting to nurse a warm buzz, and I couldn’t help it – looking at Dad in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to in quite a while. I began to notice the way his narrow lips would purse to meet his glass, the way the tip of his thick tongue would peek out on occasion to taste his scotch, how his strong jaw would move as he spoke. I noticed the way his muscles would flex and stretch the material of his suit jacket. And of course the mound at the front of pants, which I swore looked bigger the longer we sat here together.
I started seeing him sexually once again. And why not? My dad was hot as fuck. In that moment, he was the only man who existed. Handsome and perfect. Even if things were behind us, I took a strange pride and thrill that I’d seen my father’s genitals, had touched his cock, sucked it, and felt it inside me.
Or maybe things weren’t behind us. Dad was starting to look at me intently, too. I put it down to my imagination at first, a figment of my buzzed and horny mind. But those gray eyes were on me in a different way than normal.
Our defenses were down. I returned Dad’s affectionate gaze as forthrightly as I could. My heart pounded like crazy and I felt my muscles twitch spontaneously under my suit. Was this actually happening? Were Dad and I really stepping up to this threshold once more? It had been a long year since our last transgression – that trip to Mexico. I wanted this SO bad, but my mind was telling me not to go there.
Dad’s smoky eyes scanned my face. His lips gently parted and he tilted his head, finally looking up and catching my stare. There was that moment of silence as I noticed a familiar hunger in his gaze. Finally, Dad spoke softly, almost a gravely whisper. “Jim…Would you mind if I asked you to come back to my hotel room?”
There it was.
Under the bar, I pushed my leg against his, tentatively at first, then signaling my willingness. His normally stoic face had an expectant look, and I guessed he needed me to spell it out. “I wouldn’t mind, Dad. I’ve missed it,” I confessed softly as I touched my glass on the bar, pushing it towards him as I felt a smile peek out of the corner of my mouth. Feeling his leg press back against mine, I was starting to throw hard just thinking about the possibility.
“Missed it, too, Jimbo,” he said in a low groan as his gaze intensified, his thick leg now meeting my strength, and ever so gently overpowering mine.
I let out a deep exhale, somehow not knowing that I was holding my breath. I had to add something I needed to say. I know my voice was trembling with excitement and nervousness. “OK if this is on my terms, Dad? I don’t want to be selfish, but, well, I can’t go back to what it was like in Mexico.”
His jaw tensed and he softly exhaled. It was like he was mulling over my request. Bringing back a bit of his composure, Dad nodded. “Your terms, buddy. You can lay down the law with your old man back at my hotel, OK?” he said in that gravely tone.
“Sure,” I replied. I still felt myself being respectful as ever, but within those bounds I smiled at him with what must have been a sexually open gaze.
We walked the few blocks to Dad’s hotel in the cold. Our banter had stopped since we knew what was in store at our destination. I noticed that we both had our hands in our pockets, undoubtedly trying to hide our forming hardons in looser suit pants. The liquor gently warmed us as we let our eyes linger on one other. Dad’s expression was quietly serious as he looked over and let his eyes sweep over my suited body and flushed face. Then he broke out in a smile. Playful, affectionate, and naughty at the same time, adding a potent and carnal edge to his already masculine, and normally stoic, good looks.
That made me grin back. It was like electricity flowed between us – in the night cold, in the couple of feet separating us. If Dad had pulled me into a kiss right then, I don’t think I could have resisted it.
I think I laughed. A kind of excited nervous laugh to deflect my coursing lust and anticipation. Dad winked and I swore his gait got more of that Navy officer confidence as he took one hand out of his pocket and patted me affectionately on my suited shoulder.
This wouldn’t be Mexico, not again, but it was gonna be amazing.
I kind of nudged my athletic body against his briefly, just eager to get body contact with my father. But instinctively, we knew not to be too close. Dad gave me another pat and a soft squeeze of my trap then moved away from me a step, putting his hand back in his jacket pocket. We were at his hotel.
Once at his room, Dad had his key ready, opening the door for me as I stepped into the dark hotel room. It was warm inside. The street lights from outside filtered through the sheer drapes and gave the room a soft, almost eerie light. The forced air was the only sound in his room until I heard the door shut behind me. Dad stepped past me and flicked on a lamp as I unbuttoned my suit jacket.
Dad took a seat on the edge of the large hotel desk chair, leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together as his eyes watched me keenly. The lust still simmered in his grey irises, but he reined it in to allow me to speak.
“All right, shoot. You call the shots, Jimbo.” The words said I was in charge, but the tone was very much that of a Navy officer in control of the situation. Maybe it was my time with Henson, but I could hear it, see it in Dad’s demeanor and speech – his power and authority.
I smiled to myself at that realization as I sat on the edge of the bed across from him, matching his posture. He stared patiently back. God, he was handsome, dressed in his suit and tie. His closely-shaved stubble dusted across his perfectly square jaw making his handsome face even more masculine. It was a real trip to be able to look at him like this – sexually – in such an unabashed way, just us in a private setting.
“No kissing,” I said, letting the first thing come to mind slip from my mouth. My head may have been a little fogged from the alcohol, but my needs were clear. “And nothing romantic,” I quickly added. “No using the word love. No sleeping in the same bed. Just sex.” I knew… and I’m sure he knew… that this was for our own good.
“All right,” he nodded, taking in what I was saying. “I can respect that.”
“It’s what I need, Dad,” I explained as my own sexual hunger for him began to boil over, the mix of emotions sending a shiver down my body. “Sorry. The other way was just… too much for me.”
“I hear ya,” he said calmly, but made no indication that’s what he was thinking, too. Part of me wanted to know. Wondered if he had any other feelings around me that he had to suppress. But that desire to see that in my father is what created the problem between us in the first place.
“Just sex,” he affirmed. “Any limits there?”
I smiled gently as I shook my head. “I hope not, sir.”
He grinned and paused before continuing. “Am I allowed to initiate it? Ask you for sex?” His voice was deep and clear, he wanted that clear confirmation.
I breathed heavily. It was SO hot to hear those words come out of my father’s mouth. Dad could see my hardon forming a tent in my pants. He looked back up at me. “As long as it’s not romantic at all. Just sex,” I said as his eyes held mine. I thought for a second and added, “And… as long as I’m allowed to ask you for sex, too.”
He gave me a sly smirk and nodded his assent. “Yes. But I may say no. We’re both able to say no any time,” he clarified as he sat back upright. “This will just be an occasional thing, Jimbo. Very occasional.” But I could see it in his eyes and body language, Dad was real horny now. He wanted this, too.
“I think that’s best,” I said, trying to battle my sexual excitement in the moment.
His voice was low and masculine and his leg bounced just a little up and down in nervous energy, betraying his cool demeanor. “Is that it, Jim? Are those all the conditions?”
“Yes, sir,” I responded.
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, Dad scooted forward off the chair and slid onto his knees in front of me. This was really happening. My prick pulsed in anticipation at the sheer thought of actually being with Dad again after so long, after thinking we’d never be back here again.
I sat back, reaching behind me and resting back on my extended arms as I spread my thighs for his wide body. Dad scooted closer and looked up at me. His strong hands gripped and slid up my tense thighs, squeezing my quads in admiration.
Dad has nice broad shoulders and the suit framed their rounded shape perfectly. But his best feature by far was his chest. His rounded pecs filled out the crisp cotton of his dress shirt and spread the lapels of his jacket, which now unbuttoned, opened more broadly as he shifted a little and settled between my legs. He had a decidedly sexual look on his face, somewhere between a smile and a leer, as his hands slid up my suit-covered quads and nudged against my balls trapped in my trousers then openly cupped the ridge of my hardon.
“Fuck!” I gasped, involuntarily spreading my legs wider.
My reaction made Dad smile. His deft fingers unbuckled my belt and pulled the zipper of my suit trousers down to reveal my leaking dick trapped in the strained, poly-cotton material of my black boxer briefs. It was an insanely hot thing to see, Dad kneeling between my legs and reaching in to pull my underwear down and fish out my rock hard cock.
I grunted at the feel of his hot and callused fingers taking my dick in hand, pulling it out into view as the waistband caught and snapped around the base. I don’t know why, but I blushed at how hard I was. I could feel the blood pumping through my fat 8-inch shaft, making the skin flush with heat and the pink head look extra plump. Dad looked down and began a soft stroke, the rough skin of his palm running over the excited skin of my shaft without tugging it. His fingers finally slid over the flared head, careful not to touch or smear the clear pearl of precum oozing from the slit of my swollen cock head.
My father licked his hard thin lips, watching my cock spew more sap as he softly coaxed me to leak with his fingers. I bit my lip to suppress a moan as Dad wrapped his other hand around the base, his pinky curling in my blond pubes, holding my cock steady. His thumb pressed at the bundle of nerves just under the head, massaging the frenulum with his thumb while his fingers played with the rigid and sensitive lip of the flared corona.
I just looked on, a mass of horniness, excitement, and disbelief. The drop of sap at the tip began rolling down the head. Dad looked up at me, not stopping his grip or strokes. And with determination, without breaking his stare, he leaned forward and took my fat hardon into his warm, wet mouth.
“Oh fuck,” I groaned.
I watched Dad’s lips envelop the head, finally noticing how stretched they were as he sucked his own son’s dick. His tongue lapped at the sensitive head, scooping up the clear juice oozing from my slit. Then Dad slowly sucked another inch into his suctioning mouth. I noticed his jaw work as more of my fat cock filled his mouth.
It felt like heaven. After sucking an especially thick piece like the Admiral, I now had a new appreciation for the men who chose to go down on me. Dad may suck dick, but he wasn’t about to deepthroat a tool as fat as mine. Still gripping me at the base, he gently pulled off, letting his lips drag from around my shaft. That third of my cock now coated in spit. He groaned as he popped off my cock and took in a couple of breaths.
“Goddamn, you got a big dick, Jimbo,” he said, lust filling his gravelly voice. His hand pulled my shaft back to his lips, and like that he was taking me into his mouth once more. My nuts pumped at the sight. Clean-cut, Navy Captain, Robert McGrath looked so fucking hot with own son’s cock, my cock, wedged between his lips.
“Suck me, Dad,” I urged.
I think using the D word as he went down on me made my father go at it harder. His slurps grew louder as he sucked at me with a furious pace, but he didn’t have to make any special effort to get me off – just his sucking mouth, stroking hand, and handsome face looking up at me. It was so quick, that swirling sensation in my nuts concentrating in seconds. In a dozen or so bobs the spark of my orgasm ignited. Dad and I had frequently had trigger control problems with each other, and the prolonged absence meant I had no staying power inside his mouth.
“Hmmf… Fuck, Dad! I’m cumming!” My voice was at the mercy of his mouth as I fought to keep my eyes open, to watch him take my son sperm. Dad had stopped his stroking, gripping my shaft. Maybe he wanted to feel my cock swell and jolt in his tight fist. Maybe he just wanted to hold my dick in the right spot to fully taste my load.
Jet after jet of my sperm fired into Dad’s mouth, and he swallowed my ejaculation readily. I moaned and clenched my fists at my sides as Dad drank from my spewing cock.
I came down from my orgasm, breathing deeply as I watched him sip at the final dribbles. Dad slowly backed off my cock, letting the wide head clear his lips before sucking at the tip. Dad had a look of intense lust on his face. “Fuck Jimbo, that was so fucking hot,” he growled, coming up on one knee and practically lunging up at me. I saw his hand reach for my neck and his mouth coming closer to mine. I turned my head defensively. Not all the way away from him, but enough to stop his advance. Dad caught himself.
“Sorry, Jim,” he hissed, dropping his hand as he got to his feet and stepped back a little. It was a strange role reversal from our first time, when Dad wouldn’t let me kiss him. But if I feared he would push things too far, my concerns were put to rest as he put his hands on my shoulders to firmly guide me into a kneeling position in front of the bed. On my knees at his feet with my dick still hanging out of my trousers, I looked up at him, his fit, muscled body towering over me, still in his suit. Dad put his hands in his trouser pockets and that simple act made the flaps of his suit jacket part, framing the swell of his chest and the hardness of his stomach. The tie was just the perfect addition to a vision of pure, paternal masculinity.
I repeated his earlier actions by gripping his built thighs through his pant legs, feeling the hard ovals of his quads harden under my fingers. His posture was expectant but patient. Dad knew I was sexually into him, and I could feel him silently process that power over me.
“Go on, Slugger,” he finally said with a low softness. It was a tone I hadn’t heard since Mexico. “Take your dad’s cock out.”
Talk about fuel on the fire. I nodded like a scolded kid, eager to do right, and reached up to undo his belt. If it had been incredibly hot seeing Dad perform such a simple, servile act on me, it was twice as intense to have that reversed now. Even feeling just how big my father’s erection was beneath the cloth and against my knuckles, had my mouth watering.
I was now 21 and had some experience with men under my belt. But I fumbled with Dad’s zipper and briefs like it was a first date. As I undid his pants, Dad removed his hands from the pockets, and the weight of his belt pulled his trousers half way off his hips. Through the parted shirt tails I could see the long thick outline of Dad’s monstrous cock straining his underwear.
I wasted no time pulling down the elastic of his briefs. I watched in wonder as inch after inch of Dad’s colossal tool appeared as I stretched his briefs down his mammoth length, until finally, the head was free and his huge phallus sprang out, waving right in front of my face.
No other way to put it: Dad’s dick was so beautiful. A little scary, but mostly beautiful. Ten inches of uncut paternal cock bobbing from its dense weight. I released the elastic of his underwear, letting it catch under his large testicles nestled in his furry ball sac. I wrapped my fingers around the base against his dark and wiry pubes.
Although not as thick as me or the Admiral, Dad’s girth was still impressively wide and thick, and he was the perfect size for my fist. My thumb and forefinger gently touched around his shaft as I stroked it, the long shaft like a steel pipe in my grasp. I angled it towards my face, once again noticing the thick, river-like dorsal vein running down the top of his cock.
Dad’s foreskin stretched around the flared edge of his mushroom, and the cockhead was red, almost purple, and glazed in viscous precum. I stroked my fists along his shaft, feeling the skin smoothly glide over his fuckpipe in a surreal way. Dad groaned above me, now gripping my head softly. I watched the hood of his cock peel back to fully reveal his swollen, shiny violet head and the hidden sensitive groove just behind the flared ridge. Dad hissed.
“Please, Slugger. Suck your dad’s cock. I missed your mouth so much,” he pleaded.
We locked eyes as I leaned forward and flicked my tongue along the extra sensitive underside of the head, tasting his salty and virile flavor. Dad’s chest heaved, and his dick jumped in my grasp. I pulled his hood back over the sensitive head as I sucked just the tip between my lips.
“Yes,” Dad sighed. I could sense his legs twitch in front of me.
I flicked my tongue at the skin bunched at the tip before sliding into his silky hood. I moaned as I held his stare and watched his jaw fall open. Encouraged, I swirled my tongue around the flared head, tasting his captured sap from under his skin. I slowly pulled off his dick, letting him watch the bulging outline of my tongue dance and wiggle just under his hood.
“Fuck, that’s so hot, Slugger,” Dad groaned in awe. I slipped my tongue from under his hood and sucked at the tip of his cock. I caught the rim of his skin between my teeth and gently pulled it, only to let it snap free. “Fuck! Son!” Dad swore with almost a laugh at my eagerness.
It was time to suck Dad, really suck him. I took a few inches of him between my lips. After the trial of sucking Henson, Dad’s dick was comfortable and a perfect fit for my mouth. Dad let out a low, choked groan, but mostly he communicated with the fingers that ran through my hair as I took his dick deeper into my mouth.
Dad brought his other hand to my cheek, gently massaging me for a second, then placed it, too, on my head. A deep part of me craved for Dad to push right in, for him to pull a ‘Henson’ and just claim my throat. I could tell my father was unimaginably turned on and fighting the urge to thrust into my mouth. But he just cradled my scalp, watching his cock disappear between my lips, wide-eyed and slack-jawed.
This was better, even in my over eagerness, even in the slight buzz I was still nursing from the drinks. I was able to show Dad how much I wanted this. I was too carried away to give him a top-notch blow job, and Dad was too turned on to hold back long. Still gripping his thighs, I just bobbed up and down on my father’s dick in a classic blowjob motion, working several long inches of his shaft with my mouth. This suck job was for me as much as it was for him. As his cock worked up a good coat of spit behind my lips, I knew I missed this. I missed his flavor and the sensation of his steel-hard cock sliding within his smooth skin inside my mouth.
Dad’s hands gripped my head, and I felt Dad’s dick suddenly get hotter and wider. With every up stroke of my mouth I could feel the mounting swell stretch my lips. His knees and his thighs gave that telltale tremble under my touch.
“J-Jim… S-Son…” he grunted, like he wanted to, and was trying to hold out. But it was a losing battle for the man. Dad cried out as the first blast of his amazing fatherly seed spurt into my mouth, right toward the back of my throat. I moaned with him as I locked my lips around his pulsing shaft, savoring his seed before greedily swallowing.
I looked up at him with big, eager blue eyes and nursed excitedly at his spurting prick, coaxing out more cum with my lips and fist. The complex flavor – briny, hot, and sweet – lingered on my tongue as I felt him slowly begin to soften. I slid my tongue under his hood, scooping at any hidden drops of seed. Dad’s breaths were ragged as he heaved above me, his hands falling from my head.
I took that as a cue to slowly pull off his cock. His satisfied phallus, half-hooded, coated and dripping in spit, fell plump and heavy from my wet lips.
“Damn, Jimbo,” Dad said, his breath still a bit ragged as he lazily grinned down at me. “You’ve gotten better.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, pleased my efforts hadn’t gone unnoticed. Feeling spent from the sex and the alcohol, we lay down on the bed next to one another, dicks still out but satiated.
“Any regrets, Jimbo?” Dad breathed as he looked over at me. I finally noticed the sheen of sweat on his brow.
“No, sir. It was perfect. Only next time, I want to last longer. I get too excited around you.”
“I know what you mean, Slugger. You make me feel like a teenager again.” He reached over and let his fingers run softly along my suit lapel, and I wondered if he was taking note of how my body had developed since we’d last had sex. I definitely had more muscle and was in prime shape.
“I’ll get you a cab back home, if you’re ready,” he said.
Was he testing me? To see if I’d stay over? I maintained my resolve and tucked myself back into my trousers. “Yeah, I’m kind of tired.”
We both got presentable again, and Dad grabbed his wallet to get me a ten dollar bill for the cab. As I started to leave, he put his hand on my shoulder and stopped me. “Thanks for taking a chance, Slugger,” he said. “I’ve been wanting that.”
I looked at him, emotion heavy in my chest. He was the most handsome man in the world. “Me, too, Dad. That was perfect.”
He smiled and squeezed my shoulder and then opened the door to usher me out.
We paused at the door. Communicating with our eyes both the thrill of what just happened and, I think, a desire not to let this get out of control. Dad gave me a look of pure fatherly love.
“Good night, Slugger,” he said in his soft baritone voice. “You know I’m proud of you, son.”
I wasn’t sure what exactly he was referring to. The way I’d just handled sex with him, my student athlete award, or just me being me in general.
It didn’t matter. I gave him a nod that was a much a good night gesture as an acknowledgement of what he’d said. Then I gave a game grimace of a smile as I turned to walk down the hall.
END OF PART IV
To be continued in PART V: LOOKING FOR MR. RIGHT