He would have three options: accept me for being gay, kick me out of his home, or accept me for being gay and plant his huge cock between my ass cheeks again, but this time, with no layer of clothes to ban his cock from my hole, where I hoped it would go.
My plan was simple, I'd do what I had feared for most of my life: I would tell my dad that I was gay. Maybe his crotch grinding was really an accident of some sort. I looked at my dad, and paid close attention to his finer features, the distinguished lines in his face, that on most men would just look like wrinkles, his still youthful looking, but stern lips, his mild streaks of gray that spread from his sideburns and then slowly and handsomely faded into walnut, and his hazel eyes. I knew by then that I was gay, but getting turned on by your dad's cock - that, I thought, was appalling.Īfter a hard day's work of manually scraping the old and peeling coat of paint off the aging victorian styled two story home, now spliced into two separate apartments, while on the long ride back home, I couldn't get my mind off my dad's crotch being ground into my butt crack. I had recently lost my anal virginity to a big-cocked, suave older man named Lloyd, but not in a suave place, the back seat of his car instead. Not because it would've been a new revelation to me that I liked a crotch pressed between my ass cheeks.
Instead, it was more like I liked it, and felt truly uncomfortable about liking that feeling. It was, for him, an am-I-crazy moment?Īlthough I laughed, it wasn't like I didn't like the feeling of my dad's cock pressed against my sensitive crack, jeans on and all. I laughed an uncomfortable laugh when my dad humped on my bubble butt, and he got off. He had dark walnut colored hair, but hazel eyes. My dad was about 5'8" and weighed about 140 pounds. I had curly auburn hair and nearly tan colored eyes. I was just under six feet tall, was very thin at 125 pounds as I ran a lot. When we took a lunch break, my father decided to "wrestle with me." He pinned me down and thrust his crotch into my bubble butt. Not a bad deal for poor people living a little more than a vagabond lifestyle. We were painting three houses that our landlord was paying us to paint for him.