Gay Boi’s Secrets: It was our first official date. Dad had invited me to accompany to his buddy’s wedding. I was tongue-tied by the invite and blushed crimson before blurting out, “Yes, of course, I will come (”cum”) with you.” If he noticed my use of the word “come”, instead of the more appropriate word, “go”, I do not know, but from that moment onward was all I could think about was being his “date” for a night at a wedding no less! It was more than my 27 year old brain could tolerate after admiring him from afar for over a year, and slowly striking up a friendship of sort over the last three months. From the get-go, he called me “Sport”, in deference to my age and youthful exuberance, and I responded by calling him “Dad”. We became Sport and Dad when we addressed one another, our friends knew as Tommy and Earl. I often imagined how our initials engraved on bedsheets and linens would look. I was hopelessly smitten, yet assumed, he was “out of my league”. I was what other guys considered “cute” with a “decent, though unremarkable physique”, probably a 7.0 on a good day. In my minds-eye, Dad was a 10 on a mediocre day. His height, weight, and girth overwhelmed me with the desire to be naked in his shower followed by a night of “love-making” in his oversized King-sized bed. It was all scripted in my mind in a somewhat predictable, though no less exciting way. And now, here Dad was in my living room, looking incredibly dapper in his bow tie with his belly stretching the fabric of his white dress shirt, introducing himself as “Earl” to my actual father and mother. The fact that he towered over my biological Dad, did not go unnoticed by either of them or me for that matter. I felt the familiar excitement in both my groin and my asshole as I watched from a short distance. My parents were cordial, mindful that there “Son” had not turned-out as expected. As they exchanged pleasantries, I walked into the room, mindful of Earl’s eyes taking in all of me in. I noticed the slide gapping of his mouth as he saw me for the first time in my well-fitted Armani black suit. He told me later, that if he could of, he would of let out a “dog whistle”. Later, he would confide, that all he thought about at that moment and throughout our time at the wedding, was of how much, he wanted, no needed, to slowly undress me out of my expensive suit, in order to sniff, taste, lick and suck every inch of my youthful body. And so it was, that I enjoyed my first date with a very sexy older man that I thought of as my Dad. We were friends by that time, and yet, there was something new happening as we sat close to one another, our thighs touching one another as we witnessed the gay male couple pledge their life and love to one another. Dad asked me, “Sport, do you think that will ever be you up there on that altar?”. I paused for a moment and whispered, our eyes locked, “Only if I can marry my Dad.” That night back at his home out in the country, we took that first step towards being more than friends. There was a natural flow as we slowly undressed one another. Our first kiss seemed endless as our warm lips and wet tongues explored one another for the first time. My eyes welled-up with tears. Dad noticed my emotions and whispered in my ear, “Let’s take this slow Sport.” I did not realise at that moment, that it was exactly what I needed to hear. We kissed, cuddled, hugged and made our way clad only in our underwear to his massive bed. I could not help but appreciate the oversized white jockey briefs he was wearing which were tented in a way which confirmed our mutual desire. As we laid down together in his bed, feeling both the exhaustion from the day and the suspended exhilaration of the moment, we fell into a comfortable sleep together. My head was on his furry broad chest, as my arms crossed his soft round belly. Dad’s hands seemed to naturally cup my buttocks which were clad in a pair of black bikini briefs which left little to the imagination. And yet, we were content, to rest, doze and sleep together as Dad and Sport, and with that our intimacy grew. I woke in the middle of the night. Dad was spooning me from behind. His cock was hard and strong naturally resting in the crevice of my ass. I listened to him breathe and inhaled deeply of his scent, as I drifted back into a restful sleep. I woke before Dad. He was laying on his back and I was admiring his form, taking in every erotic detail. As his eye opened, there was an immediate smile, “Morning Son….”, said in such awe. I smiled in return, eyeing first him, and then the pouch of his white briefs. He whispered, “Are you sure Son?”. I nodded, as I locked my eyes on his, and moved my face to the pouch of his briefs. I inhaled deeply; the unmistakable and erotic scent of my Dad appreciating the musk, sweat, trace of urine, and brewing testosterone which defined and made my very existence possible. His masculine scent intoxicated me drawing my nose and mouth over his warm pouch. “It’s all for you Sport.” My mouth opened and I took the head of his white fabric covered cock-head into it. Dad moaned, “Always and only for you Son”. And with that, my nose, lips, tongue and mouth slowly and gently “made love” to the only man that I had ever desired. I removed Dad’s briefs with a sense of awe and wonder. His now wet mushroom head, thick stout shaft, and hair covered low hanging balls were more than I had ever imagined. Dad sensed my satisfaction, “Whenever you need cock, Son….only for you.” I took each of Dad’s warm, full balls into my mouth and bathed them with my warm saliva. I was mindful that my very life had started there and that thought excited me beyond anything I imagined. I boldly lifted his balls and Dad sensing my curiosity, raised his knees ever so slightly, so that my tongue could explore the hairy landscape beneath his balls. I inhaled deeply, the scent of musk was stronger. Dad whispered again, “And that will also only be for you.” I imagined his tight, hairy, warm asshole. Mindful of the need to proceed slowly, Dad pulled me up and away into his arms. We were kissing again sharing the taste of his cock. With both a confidence and possession that I found incredibly arousing, he expertly removed my black bikini. His hands parted my sweaty asscheeks as his finger gently touched my smooth pink hole. He whispered again, “And this will be your Dad’s too.” I nodded. Dad then directed us together into the “69” position. He would script our first sexual congress and relinquishing control to him added to my lust and desire. Dad licked the already wet and swollen head of my considerably smaller cock, and whispered, “It is perfect.” And with those words, in synchrony and harmony, together we both begin to taste, lick, suck and swallow the only cock that either of us ever really thought about or wanted. Our shared wetness, our mutual moaning and our companionable thrusting linked us together as Dad and Son. We were both lost in our hunger and in our need for each other’s semen. We could sense the coming eruption. Dad’s finger was probing my pink tight hole, exploring the contours of the pussy that someday would also be his. My hands were cupping his hairy soft ass cheeks as he thrust his cock into my mouth, down my throat and then back up and out. I could hold off no longer and shot a huge wad of cum into his mouth. I could hear him swallowing my first sperm and moments later his eruption followed. We were both swallowing, drinking what we could, and loving the overload cum dripping out of our mouths onto our chins. Dad and his Sport, both covered in cum, with cock in our mouth, and sperm racing down our throat into our belly. It was the happiest moment of my life which was only surpassed when Dad pulled me up to him and we kissed yet again sharing the taste of one another’s cocks in our cum-filled kisses that were even more sacred than the kisses we had both witnessed, at the wedding altar, that very day.
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