Date: Mon, 16 Jun 2014 12:34:10 -0700
From: - - <mike.99999@yahoo.com>
Subject: Let's Take Off Those Pajamas

We were headed to my mom's family reunion. Dad was driving, and I was in
the backseat. There hadn't been much family time lately.

They were separated again, but had been back together for a few months
before this trip. And I was very independent; I got myself up and ready in
the morning. I did my own laundry. I cooked my own meals a lot of the
time. When we were loading up the car and waiting on mom, dad said it'd be
nice to spend some time together again.

The drive was quiet.

When we got to the hotel and checked in, there was some big problem with
the rooms. Mom was mad and explaining it to us when her cousin came over
and squealed. They hugged and yelled and introduced. The same thing
happened with her room.

"We were supposed that have two double beds, but all they have left are
ones with one big queen-size."

"Same here! I guess Mikey's sleeping on the floor, the poor thing!"

"Oh, that'd be a shame! That's terrible!"

"Well, the hotel is booked!"

"Oh, I know! You stay with me! My mom couldn't come, so I have the room
anyway, and the boys can have your room!"

Dad and I looked at each other, realizing we were the boys and we'd be
sharing a bed. In a flash, they decided and were gone.

It was late, so we went upstairs to see the room. It was nice, but there
was just one bed. The room was warm. The remote control barely worked. It
was typical of anything that side of the family tried to arrange.

"Okay, son, let's get ready for bed," dad said. He unzipped his bag. I
didn't know if we were going to change in front of each other. That hadn't
happened since I was really little, like at the pool or back when dad would
help me shower. I could barely remember back then.

I wasn't a little kid anymore, but I wasn't a man like dad. I guess you can
never catch up. He was taller than me, too, so he was always big and
...dad-like.

Anyway, I took my bag into the bathroom and brushed my teeth. Then I pulled
out some pajamas. I normally don't wear pajamas, but I brought these for
modesty sake while sharing a hotel room. We weren't prudes, but like I
said, we weren't all that close or open anymore.

I normally wear just shorts with no underwear or just pajama
bottoms. Occasionally in the summer I'll go naked. Like I said, I didn't
have to worry about anybody waking me up. I had a pair of pajamas that I
knew didn't fit anymore, so I just grabbed a pair from my dresser.

These pajamas were either a gift or a hand-me-down, but when I got them out
and put them on I remembered being told I'd grow into them. I hadn't. They
were soft, blue pajamas, almost see-through in the bathroom light. The neck
was so big you could see my chest. The sleeves hung down past my
fingers. The legs covered my feet and folded on themselves. And the waist
was so loose that they sagged down. You could see my underwear
waistband. You could see half my underwear.

I was wearing white briefs. I sometimes wore boxers, and I sometimes slept
in just boxers, but I didn't want to wear just those in bed with my dad and
it was late and I was kind of tired after that drive.

I walked out, and there was dad in pajamas, too. I guess he was thinking
the same things I was. He looked silly, though. They were flannel, and I'd
only see him wear them on Christmas morning, and this was June. It was hot
that day, and the room wasn't cooled down like a hotel room should be. He
laughed at mine and I laughed at his.

"I'm going to boil in these," he said. "And you're swimming in those."

I held up my arms to show how big they were. Then I caught my pants before
they slipped down to the floor. Dad told me to get into bed and said, "No
jumping on the bed!" like he used to, but laughing.

"I can't!" I said, holding up the bottom of the pajama shirt with my long
sleeves and showing how easy it'd be to lose my pants. We laughed. It was
the first time in a long time that we were even really talking, let alone
laughing.

I got into bed on my stomach, like I always sleep. I looked over at dad,
and he was lying on his back with one arm up. He always used to fall asleep
on the couch like that. We looked at each other and didn't say anything. He
reached down and flipped the heavy comforter onto the floor and pulled the
thin sheet over our legs.

We were both sighing and trying to relax. I fluffed a pillow up by my
head. I looked over at the chest hair coming out of the neck of his
pajamas. He had the first button undone, and I hadn't noticed. He reached
over and clicked off the light and said, "Good night, son."

I watched him close his eyes and lean back. I looked at him for a bit. I
wondered when I'd look like that. Then I realized that we hadn't even
talked about us sharing a bed together. I tried to remember if anything
like that had ever happened before. There was one time when we were on a
camping trip, but we were all in sleeping bags. I guess it hadn't been
since I was a little kid. I remembered back to then.

Then I noticed dad looking at me while I was lost in my thoughts. "Just try
to relax, Mikey," he said. I rolled over, facing away from him. I closed my
eyes, but I wasn't really sleepy. Maybe it was the heat. Maybe it was the
situation. I started thinking again about how me and my dad used to be.

Probably 20 minutes went by of just me lying there not falling
asleep. Sometimes I have a hard time falling asleep. I couldn't tell if my
dad was asleep or not. He wasn't snoring, but I didn't know if he
snored. Then I heard a big inhale, a moment where I guess he was holding
his breath, and then a big slow exhale through his nose. I moved around to
try to get more comfortable. The bed wasn't so great either.

I think we both knew that we both weren't asleep. A few more minutes went
by, but I tried not to stare at the clock. Hotel rooms always have huge,
bright clocks.

Then I felt the bed shift a little bit and a hand on my back. It kind of
startled me, but it stayed there. It was familiar. Dad was rubbing my back,
gently, in big circles.

"Can't sleep either" dad whispered. I could tell that he was on his side
next to me, with one big muscular arm and hand resting against my thin
back, rubbing the fabric of the pajamas.

I kind of pretended to be groggier than I was. I didn't know what to do.

"Does that feel good?" I muffled a yes. About 30 seconds of silence went by
before he whispered again, "Do you remember when I used to lie in bed with
you and read you stories and rub your back to help you fall asleep?" I
started to remember. My body remembered. It felt nice.

My head was still turned to face the other way, and it was pretty dark in
there but not completely.

"Are you hot?" he whispered. I turned my head and looked at him in the
dark. I said, "yeah." He was still rubbing my back. He felt the fabric. "Do
you want to take this off?" he asked. I did. I was surprised, though. I
thought for a second.

"Yeah, okay," I said. Dad reached down with both hands and pulled the shirt
up over my head. It was a relief, but it was exciting and weird. I got
right back down on my stomach like I had been, partly because my pants were
so loose. I looked back at dad. We both just sort of smiled.

I looked again at his chest hair. My chest was smooth, for the most part. I
felt disconnected because he wasn't rubbing my back anymore. I was
thinking, "well, I guess that's that."

Then dad said, still with kind of a whisper, "Yeah, it's hot in here. Do
you mind if I do the same? I don't usually wear a shirt to bed."

I looked back at him, a little sleepily. "Oh, yeah, that's okay. Me
neither." Then dad unbuttoned and exposed his broad, hairy chest, pulled
the shirt back off his shoulders and arms, and lay back against the
pillows. His hair went downwards. His armpits were hairy. His jawline had
that sharp stubble. He smiled his white teeth at me, and they looked bright
in the dark against his tan skin. I looked at my bare shoulder and arm,
pale in the light peeking through the window.

"That feel better?" dad asked. I said "uh huh." Then he reached his hand
back out and rubbed my back again. I guess he wasn't thinking. I don't
know. I'd never really felt his hand on my bare skin like that, at least
not in years. It was exciting, even as I was relaxing. His hands were so
big and wide. He rubbed my back for a while. I closed my eyes and just
tried to relax, just enjoy it.

When his hand got lower, he held the loose waistband of my pajama
bottoms. I imagined, with my eyes closed, how he could see my underwear
underneath. I could feel him playing with the loose fabric and kind of
laughing little snorts to himself. Then he slapped his hand down on my
butt. Not really a slap, just a flat hand.

He whispered, "Haven't felt that in a while, huh? You used to get in such
trouble all the time. Do you remember?" He had his hand firm against my
butt.

"Yeah, I remember," I said. I didn't know what to say. He surprised me by
keeping his hand there. I didn't want to move away or anything. It didn't
bother me. It was kind of nice being close like this again.

"Well, you try to get to sleep now," he said, and he patted me a couple
times on the butt.

Then like five minutes went by. We both just laid still, a little sweaty,
my elbow brushed against his rib accidentally. I could hear him
occasionally cracking his knuckles or sighing. I felt like I'd never fall
asleep. I could feel the time treading along.

Then he started rubbing my back again, and letting his hand just rest on
the small of my back for a bit. Then it patted a couple times. Then he
patted my butt a couple times. Then he rubbed my butt in circles.

"That feels good," I said, before I knew I was saying anything. I felt
silly, stupid, weird. Just as I was about to ...I don't know what, he
replied with a simple, "yeah."

I breathed out slowly. My shoulders dropped, and my elbows pointed out. Dad
leaned in and moved his fingers to my ribs and said, "I promise I won't
tickle you." But he didn't tickle me. He slowly rested his hand back on my
butt.

"Are your legs hot?" he asked. I thought about it. Yeah, they were. "Uh,
yeah, a little."  "Yeah, mine, too. I'm burning up here. ...Do you want me
to slide those off of you?"

I thought for a second and said okay. I said, "why not get comfortable?" He
reached under the sheet and slid my pajama pants down, exposing the white
briefs stretched across my butt and down my smooth pale legs. He rested his
hand on my butt again. It was his hand's new home. "Better?" "Yeah,
better."

Then he reached under his side of the sheet and slid his heavy flannel
pants down and out the side of the sheet. I was thinking what kind of
underwear he wore. I didn't know, and I couldn't see.

He leaned back down. "Whoo! That's a lot better." Then he went back to
rubbing my back. And then he rubbed my butt again and patted it. It felt
nice.

My whole body was hot. I could feel a little sweat on my face and under my
armpits. We both stayed there for a while, just silently sweating and me
enjoying his hand on my back and my backside.

Then dad leaned over and whispered again, "Hey Mikey? When you sleep in
your pajamas ....do you wear underwear with them?" I didn't turn my head
back to him. "No," I said.

"Well, do you want me to take these off of you too then? ...to help you
sleep?" I didn't turn my head back to him. "Yeah."

I could feel him getting up and the sheet falling a little and his hand on
my butt and then his fingers move to my waistband and my briefs sliding
down my body and off my feet and dad lying back down next to me. My bare
butt was half out, as the sheet was kind of put back in place.

Then he set his hand on my back again. "Better?" "Yeah, better" we
whispered.

He said to me, "Yeah, I remember that one time you really got in trouble
bad and I finally did what I always said I was going to, and I pulled down
your underwear and gave you a little right on your bare skin."

He gave me a light little slap on the skin of my bare butt. He said he
remembered how it felt. I did too. He rubbed my bare butt.

"Dad?" I whispered. His hand stopped. "If you want to get more comfortable
too, that's okay with me."


"Oh, I'm not wearing underwear, Mikey. I never do."

I thought for a second. "Oh, okay," I whispered.

"Dad?" I asked again. "Yeah, son?" I paused, "I always wondered what it'd
feel like to touch your butt like you were touching mine."

I couldn't believe I said it. It was like we'd been talking in our sleep. I
figured he'd just laugh it off or something, but he surprised me.

"You can touch it, son," he whispered.

I thought about it, and I moved my head in his direction. I saw his bare
back and the sheet barely covering the top of his muscular ass. I slowly
reached my hand out, slid the sheet back, remembered how he used to slowly
expose my butt for a spanking.

I rested my hand flat against the skin. It was my revenge thoughts from
years ago but different now. It just felt strange and weird and exciting to
touch. I rubbed it and kneaded it in my hand. Then I gave it a big smack
before I could stop myself.

He looked at me. I whispered sorry. He said it was okay and rested his hand
on my back and then gave me a wallop on my ass. It stung. I guess it always
stings. Then he rested his hand back down on it and rubbed it. I wanted to
make some joke about kissing it and making it better, but was able to stop
myself.

"Okay, we're getting riled up now," he said.

I agreed and lay back down on my chest. We were side by side, nude on the
bed, both kind of on our elbows. I wondered what it'd look like if somebody
walked in.

"Is there anything else you do to get sleepy?" he asked.  "Just jerking
off," I replied with a laugh.

We stared at each other.

"We can if you want to," he said. I was thinking I'd go do it in the
bathroom or something.  Again, before I could stop myself, I said, "I want
to."

Dad rolled over, and I followed along. The sheet barely draped over our
bodies. I could see it tenting mine up, but I could see it tenting his up,
too.

He held the sheet and waited for me. I did the same. At the same time, we
flung the sheet down and stared at our cocks. His was huge and hairy. I had
a boner. I get a boner every night and every morning. I stared. He held his
in his hand and pulled it.

He looked at me and asked if I was sure. I nodded. I held mine in my
hand. We both started tugging and pulling, stroking, squeezing.

He looked over at mine and smiled at me. They looked kind of similar. I
looked at his chest hair.

"Dad, will I ever get chest hair like yours?"  "Oh son, you will. Just
wait."

I looked at his huge dick. "Dad, will my dick ever get as big as yours?"
"Son, yours will probably be bigger."

I stroked my dick back and forth and remembered how his hand felt on my
bare body. Then I felt his hairy leg press against mine. He reached over
with his free hand and patted me on the leg.

I felt so close to him, never closer.

I watched as he held his balls in his hand and rolled them around. I did
the same. I watched as he touched his sweaty chest and nipple. I lifted my
sweaty armpits apart. I could smell my sweat and his sweat and his breath
when he turned to me.

I watched his hips buck up and his butt clench. My feet slid all over the
bed. I leaned my head back against the headboard.

Before I knew it, I shot a load, just like I had that morning in my
bed. Dad moaned and watched it and he shot all over his hairy chest and up
to his chin. Some shot onto my chest. I wondered if that's how you grow
chest hair.

I slid my slimy hand all up and down my dick as it deflated. We both
breathed heavily.

Dad took my pajamas and wiped up the cum. I lay back down on my stomach,
now exhausted.

We slept deeply, with his hand on my back.