Date: Fri, 28 Apr 2017 13:50:05 +0000 (UTC)
From: a4f101 <a4f101@yahoo.com>
Subject: The Smoking Room

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/138129582339/

You can also find a whole lot more of my stories here on Nifty - look for
'a4f101' in the Prolific Authors listing.

This story is purely a work of adult erotic fantasy, copyright me 2017. I
own it and all legal rights to it. If you're under the age of majority in
your jurisdiction, please come back when you're of legal age.

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*****

When the last of the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher, Dad slipped
his thick forearm round Mom's trim waist and kissed her cheek.

"Dinner was amazing, as usual, baby," he said, flashing her his
million-watt grin. "If you don't mind, Billy and me are gonna go catch some
guy time."

"You mean, smoke those putrid cigars of yours and bullshit all night? Yeah,
I'm sure he's really missed that," she said, rolling her eyes, but with a
grin of her own. "Go on, then. I'll finally get to finish Downton
Abbey. Just do me a favor, and shower the smell of those awful things off
you before you come to bed. I just put fresh linens on, and I don't want
them smelling like a strip club ashtray."

Dad feigned a hurt expression, but winked at her as he pantomimed a courtly
bow.

"Anything for the lady of the manor," he said, giving her a quick smooch on
the lips that had me blushing and looking away. Then he clapped his big
hand on my shoulder and guided me out the back door to the garage.

I guess at some point, the previous owners had framed the workshop part of
the big garage in as a kind of in-law suite - really just a room with a
kitchenette and a little bathroom. I think it had sold Dad on the house
straight away, and he'd taken it over as his man cave. Mom had called it
the Smoking Room, the one place he could enjoy his cigars whenever he
wanted, and it had just kind of stuck. He kept it pretty well aired-out and
clean - old Army habits - but it had always had the ghostly aroma of rich
smoke to it. Stepping through the door now, my nostrils automatically
flared as I caught the tang of his stogies, getting like a rush of sense
memories flooding through me as we stepped inside and Dad eased the door
closed.

His big hand was still on my shoulder, and his other one came up to squeeze
my other shoulder as he stepped up close behind me.

"Good to have you home, bud," he said, in that low, deep, rumbling voice of
his that had always sent a little tingle up my spine. Then I felt the
warmth of him all over my back as he leaned in and pressed his
stubble-lined lips to the nape of my neck, slow and soft and a little
moist. I shivered and let out a soft little sigh, and he chuckled at that,
turning me in his big arms, then turning that sexy grin of his on me from
beneath his ballcap.

"Good to be home, Dad," I said. We leaned in at the same time, lips meeting
in the middle, and fell right into a deep, wet, natural kiss, as our hands
went to each other's flanks and slid down to cup asses.

I knew the routine well, we both did, so when the kiss wound its way to its
natural end, I stepped over the the minifridge and pulled out a couple of
the microbrews Dad had developed a taste for lately. He was pulling a
seriously fat cigar out of the little humidor on the coffee table,
unwrapping the cellophane from it as I popped the caps off the beers and
stepped over to him.

"Mmmm," he said contentedly as he ran the cigar lengthwise under his nose,
slowly, appreciatively inhaling its aroma, then reached over with it to do
the same to me, his big hand cupping the back of my neck as he watched me
savor the unlit scent of it. Rich, deep, complex. My cock flared up inside
my shorts as I nodded approvingly, watching him snip the end off with the
cutter, plant the tip between his smiling lips, and spark a match to it.

His eyes were on mine as he drew on it to get it going, making the big tip
of it glow warmly, and then he pulled it slowly from his lips and reached
up to graze my chin with his thick fingers. My mouth opened automatically
as he nodded approvingly, then exhaled a stream of thick smoke into my
mouth, making me grunt.

"Yeah, damn glad to have you home, boy," he said, his voice even huskier
and richer now, then leaned in to plant his mouth on mine. Our tongues
battled, thick and wet and smoky, as I exhaled the smoke back into his
mouth, and grunted again as he reached down with the cigar-holding hand to
squeeze the prominent, still-growing mound in the front of my shorts.

"Been missing my guy-time, bigtime," he growled as I handed him his beer
and watched him draw on the beast again, his eyes on me the whole time.

"Fuck, me too, big guy," I said, setting my beer down to tug my T-shirt up
and off, loving how his eyes scanned the hard muscles of my torso
approvingly. He reached over to the waist of my shorts, popping the button
with practiced ease and palming my bulge again for good measure, knowing
how his touch got me going. I felt my shorts slide to the floor as his hand
reached around to squeeze my ass. He took the cigar from his mouth, winking
at me as he flicked the tip of it with his tongue, then placed it between
my lips and gave my ass a deeper, encouraging squeeze.

"Attaboy, stud," he said throatily, taking a sip of his beer, still
squeeze-rubbing my ass as I drew a thick mouthful of the smoke, held it,
then exhaled it into his open, waiting mouth, drawing a growl from him. I
handed the smoke back to him and then reached for his jeans, popping each
button and fishing inside of them, finding his boxer shorts tented hard
with thick, warm dad dick.

I fell to my knees before him, his big, muscular form towering over me,
thick and powerful and manly as hell, as his hand played through my short
hair and he watched me, a beer in one hand, puffing on his fat cigar with
the other, the picture of ultimate virile masculinity. He stepped out of
his jeans when I pushed them down, and as I looked up at him and undid the
button on the fly of his boxer shorts, he just nodded, eyes intent on mine,
rumbling deep in his big chest as I slipped my hand in and wrapped it
around the pulsing, hot thickness of his dad cock.

Dad set the cigar and his beer down for a moment, tugged off his ballcap,
then slipped his T-shirt up and off, revealing the thick-carved muscles of
his big torso, still as strong as he'd been back in the service, but beefed
up nicely as he coasted into middle age. A man in his prime, carpeted with
dark fur all over the impressive plates of his pecs, the still-defined
muscles of his stomach, hair that flowed down into the low-riding waist of
his boxers, where it thickened and curled even tighter. I took after him in
build, just not nearly so much rich manly fur, and every time I saw him
undressed, it was like a thrilling glimpse into my physical future.

He trailed his thick fingertips along my jaw as I pulled the hefty cock
that he'd sired me with out the fly of his shorts. Seven and a bit thick,
uncut inches, ridged with coursing veins and capped with a perfectly shaped
helmet. The natural musky aroma of it, combined with the cigars and the
depth of our bond, had my mouth watering. I looked from his cock back up to
him as he set his ballcap back on his head and put the cigar back between
his lips, and I guess the whole scene was just as mouth-watering to him,
too, because I could see little bubbles of spit threatening to overspill
his sexy lower lip as it stretched around the fatness of the cigar. Then it
crept over and started to stretch into a strand, and I stretched up, mouth
open, my body moving on instinct. Dad grinned some more, plucked the cigar
from his lips and leaned down, letting the thick strand of smoky spit pour
down onto my waiting tongue, both of us growling as it made contact. He
cupped the back of my head again and chased his spit with his tongue,
plugging the fat, wet muscle of it into my mouth and spreading it around,
feeding me more as I suckled hungrily on his tongue.

"Yeah, you got no idea how bad I've missed this, son," he said, low and
husky, as I took a solid hold of his cock and jacked it slowly. I gave him
a wink, leaned in and lapped the head of his salty, musky cock, slow and
easy, moaning as I did, while he puffed on his smoke.

Dad let me work on him, getting reacquainted with that fat father cock I'd
missed so badly all semester long. Every so often, he'd take firm, yet
gentle hold of my jaw and guide me back up off it, then gust a rich plume
of cigar smoke down over his throbbing, spit-slicked meat, before guiding
me back onto him to savor it all. I fucking loved it. I had my hand inside
my boxer briefs, just holding my own epically hard, throbbing dick, because
if I stroked it, I was liable to cum in my shorts, and it was way too soon
for that. I knew how I wanted to unload. How I wanted to have him make me
unload.

"Thirsty, buddy?" he said, with that rich, deep, intensely sexy voice of
his. I looked up and nodded as I lapped at the head of his cock, encased
between my lips. He grinned, took a long swig on his beer, swished it round
his mouth to thicken it with his spit, then leaned over and fed it down in
a long stream, down over his thick shaft, and into my waiting mouth. I
didn't let a drop go to waste, thirstily swallowing my way to his root,
then backing off again, mouth open, for him to spit some more beer directly
into my waiting mouth. Beer with a dad tongue chaser, as we grunted and
slobbered into a nasty, wet mankiss. So fuckin' dirty - I loved it all.

I guess I'd always been a dirty kid, into eating my own cumloads and
spitting into my palm to feed it back to myself while I jacked off. He'd
stumbled across me doing just that out here one lazy Saturday before we
were gonna watch the game, and once the shock of discovery had passed, the
big grin on his face and the even bigger lump in his shorts told me
everything I needed to know about where I got my piggy side from. The same
place I got my strong muscles and dark hair and thick cock from - from my
father. We'd wound up sort of watching the game, in between a good couple
of hours of dirty talk, fooling around and mutual discovery. He sank the
length of his big cock up my very ready tail just as his alma mater scored
the game-winning touchdown, and that had called for a couple celebratory
beers and a second round of very satisfying father-son time, sprawled naked
on the big old leather couch.

We took our time now, me sliding my hands up and down the big, hairy
steeliness of his thick thighs, bobbing my head up and down the rigid
length of his cock, pausing to share smoke and beer and spit every now and
again. Then I felt his quads tense up real hard, and he took my head in
both hands and guided my mouth back off of his piece.

"Your Mom's got like four episodes of that Downtown Abbey shit on the DVR,"
he said, pulling me up to meet him in another slow, wet, sloppy
kiss. "Let's make the most of it, huh kid?"

He ran his hands all over my body, grunting appreciatively at all the work
I'd been putting in at the campus gym this past semester, before plucking
at my boxer briefs. He took another deep draw on the cigar, then planted
the spit-wet end of it between my lips, and tugged my strained, precum-wet
underwear down my thighs as I puffed contentedly on the smoke. My cock
popped out as he dragged the shorts down over it, and he grunted at the
fine spray of precum that hit his muscled stomach as it snapped upright. He
wrapped his big hand around it, jacked it real slowly, and leaned in to
plant a hickey on my shoulder. I pulled the cigar from my lips and gusted a
cloud of smoke down onto my cock and his working hand, and he growled,
turned his face to mine and fed me his smoky, beery tongue again.

Dad backed us up to the big old leather couch, kissing all the way, then
guided us down onto it, looming over me, big and muscular and hairy-chested
as we traded spit and tongues. He grabbed my almost untouched beer off the
coffee table, took a long swig, then propped my jaw open and flowed it into
my mouth from his as I moaned up at him, my cock bouncing angrily. Before I
could close my mouth to swallow it, he shot a wad of his spit onto my
tongue, then pushed it further inside with his as he pushed his weight
against me and deeper into the couch. We both swallowed a mouthful of
shared beer and spit before he backed off, put the back of his hand over
his mouth and let out a deep, resonant burp that had us both chuckling like
schoolboys. Then he maneuvered around behind me, settling his fine, thick
ass into the couch and pulling me back against his chest, my head propped
on his brawny shoulder so we could kiss and grin at each other and trade
deep draws on the fat cigar. The whole time, his fat dad cock throbbed
stickily against me, leaking pre onto my bare skin as we kept pigging out
on each other.

"Been thinking about this ever since you called to say you were coming
home, son," he rumbled, pushing my arm up and bending in to run his big,
wet tongue slowly up and down my pit, before kissing me with my musk heavy
on his tongue. "Looking forward to guy-time with my big boy."

"Fuck, so have I Dad... all damn semester... since Christmas..."

He growled at that, then even deeper as I squirmed around, lifting his
powerful arm up behind his head automatically so I could bury my face
there. No deodorant. Guess we were both totally ready for this, since I'd
driven four hours in a warm car without any on myself. As I licked and
nuzzled and swallowed his musk, the hand he held the cigar with was grazing
up and down my inner thigh, tracing the firm muscles, up and down along
that spot that had me tingling right to my core. On the teasing, intense
verge of tickling, but not quite. Making my cock flow precum now, even more
when he dragged the moist tip of the cigar up the length of my dick,
scooping up those juices, then planted it between his lips with a hungry,
appreciative rumble. Clamping the smoke there as he reached back down to
scoop up more of my steadily flowing man juice, coating his fingers, then
reaching deeper down to rub my tingling, itching pucker with it.

I took the smoke from him and puffed on it as I sprawled out in his big
arms, moaning now as his thick fingertip breached my ring and pushed inside
briefly. He angled his head around to spit a couple of thick wads onto his
fingertips and slid one inside of me, as I drew on the cigar and puffed
smoke up to his open, waiting mouth, then offered it to him to draw on
while he worked. We went back and forth like that for a solid ten minutes,
my cock flowing like a busted faucet now, two of his thick fingers rotating
their way into me, stroking my insides, finding the edge of my prostate and
teasing it mercilessly.

"Been keeping this in shape for me too, buddy?" he said, and fuck, his
voice and his eyes and his face were damn near hypnotic.

"Been keeping it ready for you, Dad," I moaned. "Just you."

"Aw, not even letting those hot frat bros of yours keep it warm, son?"

I shook my head slowly. He was still the only man who'd ever been inside me
like that. You'd never pick me for the submissive type, and at my core, I
really wasn't one. But in a real, manly, self-aware kind of way, I knew my
ass belonged to Dad. I liked it that way. Sure, it was a hot idea to think
about getting nailed by young college boy cock too... but that would be
nothing compared to the masterful way my own father could fill me up and
make me cum from the insides out. How could anybody else measure up?

I'd do it if he asked me to. If he told me to. Until then, my ass was all
for him. Every inch of me was, really. Didn't mean I wasn't real in touch
with myself that way. He'd come out here with his laptop one night a few
months back so we could Skype in private, my roommate out on some football
team bonding thing, and I'd loved having him watching me through our
cameras as I fucked myself with the him-sized dildo he'd secretly given me
at Christmas. Fucked myself with it as I jacked and talked dirty to him,
listening to him talk dirty right back as he stroked his own cock, until we
shot our loads together. Watching him mirror me, and tip his cum-filled
palm back and pour his own seed onto his tongue nearly made my just-emptied
balls rattle.

Now, though, we were both here, and both real ready to take it deep in real
time. Dad's thick fingers slowly worked their magic on me as we traded spit
and suds and smoke, and then tongues, the air of the Smoking Room filling
steadily with the scent of the cigar, our sweat, our musk. I wish I could
bottle that smell up, take hits of it like poppers while I jacked my cock
in my dorm bed. For now, though, I drank it in, fresh and deep and so
fucking manly.

Even though I was a pretty big dude like him, Dad maneuvered me around on
the couch like I was nothing, pushing me up so I sprawled against the couch
armrest, shifting himself so he loomed huge and virile between my big,
spread thighs. His cock was hugely hard, the fat head of it gleaming with
precum and then the thick wads of spit he drizzled down onto it. He ran his
big paws up and down my thighs appreciatively, clamped the cigar between
his lips, and then nudged his slicked-up cockhead firmly against my very
ready hole. I bore down as he pushed, the rhythm we'd been perfecting
whenever we could for the last couple years, and then I moaned low and deep
as Dad entered me. It didn't really hurt anymore. Sure, there was always
the slight twinge as he first breached my hole, but with practice, that had
faded away. Just the pressure of entry, and then that dissolved into deep,
glowing pleasure, as my own father fucked his way up into my insides, deep
and steady and strong.

Dad fucked me steadily, not just for his own pleasure, but taking care to
really fuck me too. We traded the cigar back and forth, he fed me beer and
spit, even drizzled his saliva onto my sweating, straining muscles and
rubbed it in. Man, this old couch had seen some things, and the thought of
our intense, incestuous sexual history, our shared piggy bond expressed
here on it, just made the whole experience even deeper, more intense, more
powerful.

"Fuck yeah... my big guy," Dad growled, stroking his cigar-holding hand
over the flex of my thighs, my abs, my pecs, my arms, then reaching down to
wrap it round the thickness of my throbbing dick. I returned the favor,
squeezing his big biceps, the meat of his pecs, palming his big, stiff nips
like I knew he loved. He leaned over to kiss me as he picked up his fucking
pace, hips starting to slap against the solid flesh of my ass, pushing his
cock up at a different angle inside me as he did that had me writhing on
the couch cushions. "Daddy's big buddy."

"All yours, Dad, you fuckin' stud," I growled back. "My fuckin' man. Fuck
me, Dad. Fuck your dad cum into your own kid, you big hot fucker."

"Aw you hot little son of a gun," he moaned, kissed me again, then really
started to fuck me rapid fire, his big pecs flexing up even harder, looking
even more awesome than he had when I first started crushing on him as a
boy. All big, thick, prime ex-soldier beef, the man I was going to be when
I got to be his age, and I could not fucking wait. Hopefully I'd have a son
of my own to share this intense, masculine bond with too. Fuck, just the
thought of that, of carrying this tradition down to another generation,
really set my nuts to boiling.

"Fuck me off, Dad," I moaned. "Breed me up good."

"Yesssss," he hissed, then took a serious draw on his cigar, blew the rich
cloud of smoke down over my cock as he stroked it, and when he thumbed the
juiced-up head, I fucking lost it. My hands clawed at his thick-pumped
arms, hanging on for dear life as I blasted off, raining nearly ten shots
of thick, hot cum all over my twitching, sweat-glowing chest and stomach,
Dad growling his encouragement and stroking his big paws all over me as I
unloaded all over myself for him.

He'd slowed down his fuckthrusts to help me ride through the wave of my
cum, and now he picked up the pace again, watching me scoop my own seed up
off my body and lick it up, before lifting my cum-smeared palm up to
his. He growled lustily, leaned in and licked my palm clean, then spat into
it for good measure and lapped that up too, before feeding me all of it on
his smoky tongue. I fastened my thighs round his trunk, grabbed hold of his
big, juicy nips, and tightened my insides around him as best I could, still
half-dazed from my epic orgasm, but knowing instinctively what I needed to
do for him.

"Cum in me, Dad," I said hoarsely, and I guess that did him in. He rumbled
like an angry animal, deep in that big chest of his, his face strained and
intense, beaded with sweat as he gritted his teeth and flooded me with his
seed. I watched his body quiver and quake as he grunted and moaned and
shivered all over before flopping back against the other end of the couch,
cigar still held tight between the fingers of his right hand.

"Fuckin' fuck," he gasped, then chuckled, staring at me with a little awe
and a lot of love. I started to chuckle too as he pulled me up and against
him, and by then we were laughing, low and deep and long. It was the best
feeling, the greatest moment in the whole world. I lived for this.

I sprawled out against him as we traded the cigar back and forth, almost
down to the nub now, slowly finishing first his beer together, then
mine. Just talking, reconnecting, and recovering from the epic intensity of
our time together. Even better, knowing tonight was just the first time
we'd have together for the entire break. Weeks ahead to look forward to,
weeks of opportunity and bonding and so much more.

"Guess we better get that shower, or your mother's gonna be up both our
asses about it," he said, rolling his eyes. But he'd do anything for her, I
knew that, and despite the complexity of our own bond, that just made me
love the guy even more.

We popped another beer on the way to the little bathroom, then finished it
off as we showered the smells of the session off of us, sharing the beer
from the bottle and each other's mouths as we soaped each other up and made
out slowly. Afterwards, we pulled our clothes back on, Dad flipped the air
on the deionizer contraption that he swore up and down almost eliminated
the smoke from the air, and then made our way across the patio and back
into the house.

"Psst," Dad said as we passed the laundry. He started to tug his shirt off,
then his jeans, as I stared at him. "Clothes're gonna smell too. It'll cut
down on any bitching tomorrow."

I chuckled and shucked my own clothes, and then grunted when Dad pulled me
into his big arms, grabbed hold of my muscled ass through my underwear, and
laid a deep, long, sensual kiss on my surprised mouth.

"Got the new Terminator movie on Netflix," he said when we pulled apart
reluctantly. "You know your Mom hates that shit. Maybe we can head back
over and watch it tomorrow night, what do you say?"

"I hope you got more than that one cigar over there, Dad," I said with a
grin, and he growled and folded me back into his arms for another deep,
slick kiss.

"Fuck, you think your old man didn't lay in plenty of supplies for his big
guy coming home?" he chuckled, cuffing the back of my head playfully. "Get
your fine young ass to bed, kid, and get some rest. You'll need it for
tomorrow night."

I slipped into my bedroom, boning up in my boxer briefs again, already
looking forward to another night with Dad in the Smoking Room.