I was woken by my father’s soft breathing, punctuated occasionally by a gentle snore. I was lying beside him on his double bed, guessing it was about 6:00am by the look of the lightening sky out of the window.
It was chilly and I was naked as usual, never having grown used to wearing anything to bed, apart from thick socks now and again when winter threw on a really bad turn. Dad was wearing his pyjama pants and nothing else, another old habit that I could remember from my long-ago childhood.
He was lying on his side facing me and I propped myself up on one arm to look at him while he slept. I’d arrived back from overseas too late the previous evening for anything other than a tearfully happy hug, before the effects of the long-haul flight caught up with me and I tumbled into his bed.
He’d prepared the spare room for me, but even half conscious I knew where I wanted to sleep, and he hadn’t objected; that started after mum died, and I think it saved us both. His smell, which I’d so missed, rose from the bedding and wrapped me in its warm embrace, and I was asleep as soon as I shut my eyes.
Now, as he slept in the quiet of the morning I could take him in again after two years away, noting the changes that had taken place over that time. The hair on his chest and stomach turning silver and grey, the slight paunch softening his otherwise still solid build, the full head of hair also silvering in the unkempt riot of dark brown. And then of course his cock, meaty and limp hanging out of the loose pyjama flap, resting on top of his hairy balls which seemed even bigger than I’d remembered; probably hanging lower with age, I mused.
I’d always loved seeing him naked, even as a kid when I’d managed to sneak peaks at him in the shower, or having a piss, or just getting dressed behind the partially closed door of his bedroom. Did he know that I was watching? Probably, but he never let on, and I enjoyed my guilty secret.
There was something of that thrill now as I watched his stomach expand and contract, his eyelids faintly fluttering in deep sleep as his lovely body lay dormant and still so close beside me. I wanted to touch him but knew that he would wake, and I was not done yet with the moment, so satisfied myself with his soft heat and gentle odour as it washed over me.
My own cock was hard and I pulled back the sheet in order to feel the cool air on the slippery exposed crown, already leaking clear strands of precum; a family trait. My father shifted position slightly and looking down I could see a glistening pearl of juice appear amongst the folds of his generous foreskin, like a moist flower petal.
Reaching across I touched (as gently as possible) that small viscous drop, rubbing it between my fingers like velvet before raising it to my nose and rubbing it onto my lips, shooting me back years to the first time I’d tasted my father.
At which point he opened his eyes sleepily and looked directly into mine, a sly grin stealing across his face like sunshine peeking out from behind the clouds. He saw my erect cock and I thought (hoped) he was going to reach out and hold it, but instead he leant across and tweaked one of my nipples, making my cock dance a merry jig as he squeezed it to a point verging on pain. He chuckled at my intake of breath and then closed his eyes again, sleep overwhelming him as my body tingled with his touch.
His cock, however, had become hard and his foreskin had unfurled to reveal his glistening knob leaking a thick strand of clear precum, pooling on the rumpled sheet between us. I stayed motionless for a while, happy to watch the clear fluid slowly appear, his dick bobbing every now and then as he drifted happily back into sleep.
Once his steady breathing told me that he was away, I reached across as gently as possible and caught some of his juice on my fingertip, rubbing it lightly over the swollen piss hole before massaging it with extreme care into that electric spot just below the eye, feeling the taut cord of his frenulum hum beneath my touch. A globule of thick liquid surged from his opening and I thought I heard a slight sigh escape his lips. His eyes remained closed however and I dared to continue.
Massaging that same spot as gently as I could, one finger then two, his cock bobbed and bounced as it responded to my gentle coaxing, his breathing shortening into rapid exhalations as his eyelids fluttered and twitched in subconscious pleasure.
I could feel his hardness through my fingertips, watching as his crown became swollen, darkening to a deeper purple. The clear juice of his precum slowly thickened and became more opaque as it transformed into semen, flowing in an almost steady stream from his piss-slit, a soft low moan escaping his lips as his gentle orgasm continued.
I pressed my fingers slightly harder against his shaft and could feel the flow of jizz pumping just beneath the skin, like an underground stream. His smell was intoxicating. The rich and loamy scent of his spunk combined with the slightly sharp odour of his body, like being in a damp forest, heady and rich and disorientating.
His cock gave a couple of short spasms as he spurted the last of his cum onto my stomach, followed by a deep sigh signalling that he was spent. His breathing returned to normal, his eyes remained closed in sleep. I leant across and kissed his lips softly.
Then, lying down in the cooling pool of my father’s semen, I added my own as I had done so many times in the past.
