Date: Fri, 17 Jun 2016 11:25:34 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101@yahoo.com
Subject: The Father's Day Club, Part 2: Chris Finds Out

Here's a story taken from my Tumblr, at a4f101.tumblr.com/storytime. You
can find this one, and the pic that inspired it, here:
http://a4f101.tumblr.com/post/122000858287/

This story is purely a work of adult erotic fantasy, copyright me 2016. I
own it and all legal rights to it. If you're under the age of majority in
your jursdiction, please come back when you're of legal age.

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*****

Something was up between Dad and my uncles. I couldn't quite put my finger
on it, but I'd wondered for awhile now, what it was they got up to when the
three of them met up and headed off for their annual pre-Father's Day thing
they did. I'd tried asking Dad, and he'd just get that pleasant smile on
his ruggedly handsome face, the one that gave absolutely nothing away, and
say they were just reconnecting, catching up, doing brother stuff together.

I can't lie - I'm a horny, dirty-minded fucker sometimes, and OK, I've been
jacking my dick imagining all kinds of sordid shit since I was 12. Used to
be a bit freaked-out by some of the things I'd picture, especially the shit
I'd imagine about Dad, and then when my brain would start adding in my hot
uncles too, big ex-soldier Uncle Phil and then Uncle Dave, the football
coach. Not my football coach, thank god, that probably would have been too
much for me, the way he wore those shorts that showcased the power of his
hairy thighs, that polo shirt that just accentuated the solid swell of his
pecs. The three of them were big guys, big like I was turning out to be,
all three of them with those similar rugged features, big solid-muscled
frames, all in great shape and maturing into middle age real nicely. I had
a bit of a thing for all of them, and while I'd long thought of it as my
secret shame, as I got closer to being 18 and a man myself, I was starting
to accept that this was just a part of who I was - a pervy, secret part,
but a part of me regardless. And all the horny incest porn I saw on the
internet just confirmed that I wasn't the only one out there with a jones
for my Dad, and his brothers.

So I guess it was that horny, deeply imaginative, deeply pervy part of my
brain that had me convinced something was up between them. Yeah, sure, I
have an active imagination. But I have a good gut instinct about things
too, and it was talking to me more and more lately. The more I thought
about them, the more I looked at pictures of the three of them together -
for all the porn at my fingertips online, looking at pics of Dad and his
brothers together from over the years was still my favorite stroke bait,
all the shirtless beach and lake photos, pics of them in their various
sports uniforms from their high school and college days, and fuck, Uncle
Phil in his Army uniform, especially the shirtless ones of him from when he
was in Desert Storm. There was one of a big family trip we'd all taken to
the Bahamas a few years back, just when I was hitting puberty, and that pic
of the three big, rugged guys shirtless and tanned, Dad standing behind me
with his arms laid easily over my bare shoulders, could reliably make me
come like a fountain.

There was just something about them. Not just the hot physicality of all of
them, but the bond between them. They all still lived in the same city, and
all three of our families spent a lot of time together, but the three of
them were always calling each other, meeting up for lunch or drinks after
work when their schedules synced up, just generally seeming to genuinely
enjoy each other's company. I'd look at Connor, my pain-in-the-ass little
brother, and wonder how it was possible to actually like your brothers that
much. And since I had that dirty imagination, and the internet to fuel it,
well, I had some ideas about that. Half-ideas, half-fantasies.

Father's Day was coming up, which meant Dad and his brothers had their
pre-Father's Day get-together, so they were on my mind even more than
usual. My printer was out of ink, so I was using the one in Dad's office,
printing off a checklist of things I was going to need before I started
college in the fall. I swear I wasn't trying to snoop - I mean, I might be
a fucking perv, but I'm not a bad person - but when his Outlook
notification thing went `ping', I found myself clicking it almost out of
reflex. It was a confirmation e-mail from the Hilton downtown, for a King
bed suite the weekend of Father's Day.

"Wait a minute," I muttered to myself. Dad had said they were going to
spend the day fishing, that day. Probably wouldn't be back until late. And
I started to put two and two together, and my gut instinct went `ping' too,
and I knew something was most definitely up.

I couldn't think of anything else the whole week that followed, leading up
to Father's Day weekend. Thinking of my uncles and my Dad, thinking of that
hotel room, thinking of that big king-size bed and what might happen on
it. All the images I'd had since I first spurted my cum at 12, images of
the three big men of my family, alone and together in all the various
configurations, mixing together in new ways. I looked up the Hilton's
website for pictures of the room. The bed. The bathroom. The couch. The
pool. Imagining them laying out by the big pool, the sun making their big,
hairy-chested, thick-muscled bodies sweat. Their cocks in their swim
shorts. Imagining the look passing between them, the smiles that would
follow, the quiet agreement between them that the time had come to head
upstairs, uncap a few more beers, and get down to it. And with all that
fueling my horny imagination and my big young cock, powering me to orgasm
after orgasm all day long, all week long, I knew that I had to know for
sure.

When Dad kissed Mom goodbye on Friday night, his overnight bag in hand,
telling me and Connor to be good while he was gone and that he'd see us all
Saturday night, I was practically hopping with curiosity and tension and
horniness. I was supposed to have a date that night, but I blew her off -
she wasn't going to let me fuck her, I didn't especially want to fuck her,
and we were heading off to different schools in a few months, so no big
loss there - and spent most of the night beating off to the images in my
mind. Wondering what they were up to, in that room downtown, as I lay back
on my bed and fisted my big, leaking dick and my dirty mind filled in the
pictures for me. I came three times before I finally went to sleep, and I
still felt like I could have gone for more. Felt like I was on the verge of
discovering something mind-blowing.

Next morning, I told Mom I was going to work out with some of my buds,
making use of the gym membership they'd gotten me for my birthday. And I
did go work out, because I needed something to occupy my mind and help me
focus and not fuck up my scheme. Plus, I couldn't jack off again... just in
case, I told myself. In case of what, I didn't know, and that almost made
me want to jack off more. But Dad was big on the whole idea of
self-restraint, it was one of the big Man Lessons he was trying to teach me
and Connor, so out of respect for that, for him, I held off.

My cock was hard as steel, though, as I drove downtown. I parked a block
away from the hotel, so Dad wouldn't see my Focus in the hotel lot by
accident. Pulled on a ballcap and sunglasses, realigned my cock in my
shorts, made myself not be so hard, talking myself up, psyching myself up
for the next part. Then I locked the car and walked to the Hilton.

It was a big hotel, and I'd watched a lot of spy and detective movies, so I
had a pretty good handle on how to do some basic surveillance, I liked to
think. They weren't in the lobby, or the Starbucks, or the restaurant, or
the gym. Weren't out by the pool - and I was kind of hoping to see them out
there, all big and tanned and hairy and hot as fuck in their swim shorts. I
doubted they would have spent the money on a suite and then not made full
use of it, and there wasn't that much going on downtown, so that meant they
must be upstairs somewhere.

There was a cute girl working reception, so I squared my shoulders, tensed
up my arms and chest a bit - I'm big like Dad, and the workout this morning
helped with that, so I knew I looked pretty good - put on my best charming
smile, the one Mom had always said I'd inherited from Dad, and headed her
way. She gave me a big smile, eyes giving my solid football-player frame a
quick up-down appraisal, and I knew I was in.

"Hi, I'm staying here with my Dad, Mark Morton? I'm really embarrassed
about this, but... I left my room key upstairs when I went down to the
pool. Could I get another one, please?"

"No problem, Mr Morton," she said with a smile, and if I wasn't so
intensely focused on my own pervy mission, I probably could have been onto
something with her. And simple as that, I had a key to their suite, in a
little folder with the room number written on it. I smiled, thanked her,
and nervously headed to the elevators.

The long walk down the corridor on level 7 seemed endless, my gut
flip-flopping, afraid they'd come out all of a sudden and see me there. But
nobody was around, it was after check-out time, and when I got to the door
to room 735, the only sound I could hear was my own pulse jackhammering
away. I sucked in a deep breath, and pressed my ear to the door.

There was a low rumble of voices. Some chuckles, conversation. I couldn't
really make out words, but I knew their voices as well as I knew my
own. They were definitely in there. I tried to look through the little
peephole, but I guess they were one-way, since I couldn't see anything but
light and vague shadows moving around. Then I spied a room service tray on
the floor in front of the room door across the hall. A glass on it. I
remembered something I'd seen on a TV show once, and picked up the glass,
turned it around with the base to my ear, and pressed it to the
door. Suddenly, I could hear their voices, deep and distinct, only slightly
muffled by the door between us.

"Fuck, Davey," Uncle Phil said, followed by a low groan. Then some sloppy,
wet sounds that could only be a blowjob. My cock throbbed fully upright, as
I heard what sounded an awful lot like kissing.

"Damn, he's as good as he was when we were kids, huh bro," I heard my Dad
say, and that had me reaching down to squeeze myself. Fuck, what I wouldn't
have given to see inside...

"Shit, you remember how Dad used to get when the two of us would work him
over at the same time?" Uncle Phil said with a low, lusty chuckle. Then
more kissing sounds.

I wanted to hear more, see more, wanted to haul my cock out right then and
there and paste the door with my hot, thick load, but then the elevator
went `ping' down the hall. I hurriedly stepped back, quietly put the glass
back on the tray, and made my way down the hall, flush-faced, raging hard,
hitching at my shorts, my mind and my cock on fire. I guess I had my
answer. But if anything, knowing what was going on between Dad and my
uncles just made things worse.

                                                       *****

The next morning, I was leafing through a car magazine on my bed, not
really reading it, not seeing the pictures, not able to think of anything
but the voices and the sounds I'd heard, the things they'd said, the
intense images my brain was creating to fill in the picture. My cock was
still throbbing, had barely gone down, even though I'd come four times
since I'd gotten home yesterday. And now, Dad would be home any minute, and
I had no idea how I was going to look him in the eye. Not now that I knew
what I did.

I guess I wasn't aware of anything outside my own head, because Dad's
knuckles knocking on my open door startled me. I flushed guiltily as I
looked up at him, all tall and solid and handsome, the way the grey was
starting to really come in on his temples, the thickness of the hair on his
muscled calves, the solid bulge of his pecs and the light swell of his
stomach under his polo shirt. He looked just like them. He looked like a
god to me.

"Uh, hey Dad," I muttered. "Have a good time?"

He gave me that kind of inscrutable smile of his, nodding slowly.

"I did, thanks," he said, then stepped into my room and eased the door
closed behind him. My mouth went dry as I watched him pull out my desk
chair, turn it to face me on the bed, and sit down, leaning forward with
his thick, hairy forearms resting on his knees. "But I think you know that,
don't you, son?"

Oh shit. I was busted. He told me how the girl at checkout had asked if his
son had found his other room key, and how him and my uncles had suddenly
realized that their fun, brotherly secret time together wasn't such a
secret anymore. Like I said, I might be a perv, but I'm not a bad person,
and Dad prized honesty from us boys above all else, and so I found myself
guiltily spilling everything. Something about his calm, even demeanor, the
way he'd always been a good listener, how I'd always been able to tell him
anything, led to me pouring out everything. And I mean, everything. How I'd
wondered, then fantasized, then slightly obsessed over him, and my big
hunky uncles. How crazy my thoughts about them were. How I couldn't stand
it any longer, how I just had to know for sure if what I thought,
suspected, hoped was true. I was flush-faced, ashamed, on the verge of
tears. And then he slowly reached over, and just gently ruffled my hair,
before squeezing my shoulder.

"I can't say that I like what you did, son," he said. "Me and your uncles
need to talk some more about that. About you. But... I get it. We get it."

"Y-you do?" I said, surprised and scared and hopeful at the same time. A
little less... tormented. He just nodded.

"I know you don't think so, but your uncles and I were your age once,
Chris," he said. Then he paused, like he was thinking. Looking at me with
that quiet, assessing gaze he had. And then he sat forward and started to
talk about how things were for him, Uncle Phil and Uncle Dave back when
they were my age. Before they were my age. And how they'd gotten started
with this Father's Day tradition of theirs.

Mom and Connor were out picking up some things for dinner, so it was just
me and Dad in the house. When he told me to get naked, and lay back and
show him just what thinking about him and his brothers, especially him, and
what I'd learned today made me want to do, I did it. I sprawled out on my
bed, naked and hard, and at first I was too ashamed to look him in the eyes
as I wrapped my hand around my achingly hard young cock... but I got over
that. When our eyes met and I saw his own hand rubbing the huge mound in
his shorts, I moaned and spurted precum onto my tensing, flexing stomach.

"Good boy, son," he murmured, slowly undoing his zipper, pulling out the
big, hard, curved cock he'd made me with. That he'd just spent the past 36
hours sharing with his own brothers. That he'd shared with his own Dad,
back before he was my age.

"Ah Dad," I moaned, stroking faster, balls boiling, so close to the edge as
it buzzed up the thick length of my teenage cock, and found myself saying
the first thing that came to my overheated mind.

"Happy Father's Day, Dad," I half-wailed, the precum making my cockhead
slick and noisy as I furiously stroked it, the whole head of my cock
tingling and throbbing and so ready, and the way he grunted at my words and
looked me in the eyes and slowly nodded triggered me off, and I fired and
fired and fired the biggest load I'd shot all week, even despite all the
cum I'd already shot, glazing my heaving, sweating stomach with teen cum as
Dad nodded and growled with satisfaction, with approval.

"Thanks, buddy," he said, coming up out of the chair, big cock arcing out
of his undone shorts, stroking harder and faster as he gazed lustily at me
and the huge load all over my abs, reaching down to stroke the hard, thick
muscle of my thigh.

"I love you, son," he moaned, and then he was shooting too, more hot, thick
shots of cum splatting onto the mess on my stomach, making me moan, making
my spent cock twitch again.

Afterwards, sweaty and spent, chests having, he reached down to ruffle the
sweaty blond thickness of my hair. Smiled. Then leaned in and pressed his
lips to mine, soft and intimate at first, until my lips parted and accepted
his tongue gratefully, joyously, hungrily. We made out like that for a
solid few minutes, touching, tasting, exchanging, before he pulled away.

"Maybe one day, you'll be a father too, son," he said with a warm smile and
a twinkle in his eye. "And then, maybe we can talk about you joining our
club."