Date: Mon, 12 Mar 2001 16:44:34 -0800
From: Desert Guys <jg.ps@gte.net>
Subject: Thanks Grampa

Thanks, Grampa
A short story by Greg Bowden
Jg.ps@gte.netps@gte.net

Saturday, April 13, 1957

Looking at it from the vantage point of forty-four years later, I'm pretty
sure I knew what my dad was doing in his room that Saturday afternoon. I
may have even listened at the door beforehand but if so, I don't remember
it. I also don't remember why I thought I could just go bursting into his
room but I did. I threw open the door and there he was, naked, lying on his
bed with his hard dick in his hand. I stopped short, staring, probably with
my jaw hanging open.

My dad, though, was the coolest man alive. Nothing ever ruffled him and
this was no exception. He never missed a stroke.

"Well, hello son," he said opening his eyes and giving me that silly grin
of his. He looked me up and down a couple of times and then said, "You know
it looks to me as though you have three alternatives at this point son. You
can turn around and leave, you can just stand there and watch, or," he
moved over on the bed and patted the space next to him, "you can join me."

I don't know how long I stood in the middle of his room taking in what was
happening before he said, "Well? Which is it?"

My hands seemed to go about pulling off my tee shirt and shorts all by
themselves, with no help from me. I climbed onto the bed and lay down,
naked, next to my dad.

I laid there rigidly, staring at the ceiling until my dad nudged me with
his elbow and said, "It's okay. I think you're ready."

I looked down at myself and saw that my dick was standing up as hard as
it'd ever been. I wanted desperately to look at him--at what he was
doing--but I was afraid to so I went back to looking at the ceiling. I
also took my dick in my hand but I didn't do anything with it. It was more
like I was covering it.

I heard my dad chuckle and I turned my head towards him. "It's okay, son,"
he said. "It really is. It's also okay to look. Hell, that's the point of
masturbating with someone, isn't it? To watch?"

My mouth was too dry to speak so I just nodded. But I looked, too. I
couldn't help myself. He had his dick in his fist, his fingers curled
around the head, slowly slipping his foreskin up and down over it. His
other hand was cupping his balls and I wished he'd take it away so I could
see them. His balls had always fascinated me when I'd seen him getting out
of the shower or we'd changed together at the pool but I'd always been
afraid of being caught looking. Now...

"Hey, hey," he said, putting his hand on my arm. "Slow down. Getting there
is half the fun."

I hadn't realized I was even doing it but I was and I was already close to
coming. I let go and my hand began making slow circles over my belly. I say
it that way because I really had no conscious control over what I was
doing. My hands seemed to have wills of their own and my mind was focused
on my dad, taking in how he looked and how he was doing it. I remember I
was amazed at how open he was about it, how he shifted so I had a better
view and how he watched me, his eyes taking in my whole body and then
shifting to my crotch, staying there, looking at my cock.

"You came out pretty well in the dick department," he said. He let go of
his balls and slowly ran his hand up his belly to his chest where he took
hold of one of his nipples.  "Must skip a generation."

I looked back at myself and made the comparison. To me it looked like we
were pretty much the same. Somehow he read my mind. "No, you're longer," he
said. "By at least an inch, I'll bet. But I think maybe I'm thicker."

My hand was back on my dick, moving fast again. I couldn't help it. My dad
read my mind again and he sped up too. I think I came first but not by
much. We both took it in the fist, not letting anything spray out. When it
was over, and that's the way it felt, I was relieved but there hadn't been
much kick, my dad handed me a small cloth to wipe up with. He pulled a
second cloth out of the nightstand and wiped his hands.

"Not so great when all that other stuff is going on in your head, is it?"
he said and gave me that grin of his. "Remember that when you start making
love seriously. It needs to be easy and a little familiar before it becomes
wonderful. Now then," he stood up," I do this pretty much every Saturday
afternoon. You're welcome to join me any time you want."  With that he went
into his bathroom and turned on the shower.


-----------------

To be continued.
Comments, suggestions and criticisms gladly received and answered.
jg.ps@gte.net