After leaving college, I was at a loose end as to what to do next. One thing I did know is that I couldn't live with my shitty parents any longer, so I moved in with my friend and his folks.
I had known my friend since childhood, as both of our families lived on an armed forces estate in Germany. Posted back to the UK, we lived in different areas of the country. Where they lived was much better than my location, so now that I was older, they agreed to let me stay with them in return for paying rent.
Charlie (dad) had been out of the army for around 5 years. However, he still had the physique of a gym obsessed squaddie: abs you could grate cheese on, glutes as firm as iron, and manly well-defined strong arms. He would have been in his early 40s at this point, his jet-black hair now highlighted by flecks of silver. He also had the aura of everyone who's ever been in the military: don't fuck with me!
Charlie would have been one of my first crushes, stirring up feelings I couldn't quite comprehend when I was younger. Now, at 20 I knew what those feelings were, and took every opportunity I could to act upon them.
For example, Charlie was a really keen runner - running miles every day he got the chance. He'd come home covered in sweat, and without a thought would take off his dripping, soaking vest. As I mentioned, he had a really toned body, but his chest was also covered in thick hair - not an inch to spare! His sweat would also make it glisten in the light, which, paired with the musky odour that oozed from him still makes me wonder how I managed to resist throwing myself at him.
He'd always head straight to the shower, and I would wait with bated breath waiting for him to leave the bathroom so I could go for my "desperate" piss. That was a lie! In reality, I'd pick his sweaty boxers out of the washing basket and sniff and lick them while having a wank on the toilet. I guess running made Charlie horny, as sometimes I'd find a fresh load of cum deposited in them from before he had his shower. I'd suck out the cum, sniff the sweat and piss...and then drop my own load of cum on top of his.
I had my own room in the house and would sometimes sneak to the parent's room in the dead of night to see if I could hear Charlie fuck. More often than not, I was met with nothing but complete silence. However, there were some nights I did get lucky. I'd hear him fucking his wife and in between her high-pitched moans would be his manly grunts. I'd pause while she was sounding off, but wank furiously every time he made a sound while thrusting into her. Precum would drip off my cock, and onto the floor and I had to quickly pull my boxers up while shooting so I didn't cover their door. I loved hearing him trying to muffle the sound of his cumming while he shot his load into her.
But just as I was beginning to think I'd always have to rely on just imagining Charlie and his bedroom prowess things started to take a turn for the better. He had a stash of porn on VHS (anyone under 25, look it up 😆) and I used to borrow them when I wanted to jerk off. I'd rewind the last scene he'd watched and made sure I shot to it too. I'd then return the video to the cabinet.
Only, one time I forgot.
A few evenings later, Charlie had an awkward conversation with me and his son. Did anyone have dad's "special" tape? My friend had no idea what he was going on about, and I played dumb. For a bit. However, I soon admitted that I'd borrowed the tape and would return it straight away.
What happened next surprised me.
"No, don't worry about returning it," said Charlie. "Show me your favourite scene if you like?" he added, with a smirk and raised eyebrow.
And the next time my friend and his mum left the house that's exactly what I did. I showed dad my favourite scene, and he showed me the equipment I'd be desperate to see for years. And it didn't disappoint!
---
It had been a few days since I'd been rumbled with the porn tape and Charlie had proposed we watched it together sometime. There had been no opportunity to do so - either his wife was at home, my friend was, or both of them were. I spent those first few days with Charlie's dirty underwear wrapped around my head in the bathroom, wanking to the thought of what might be. I would soon find out.
Both Charlie's wife and his son were working away from home that day. That afternoon, I found Charlie home alone - work having been rained-off that day (he'd retrained as a builder since leaving the forces). Together in the living room, there was a slight air of awkwardness while we watched some crap daytime TV. I'd see him look at me from the corner of my eye, and when he looked away, I'd return the favour. He was sitting on an armchair in his tiny shorts - the type soccer players used to wear in the 1980s (even though they were well out of fashion by now!). His well defined, hairy legs slightly parted, I could see the outline of the head of his cock hanging to the left behind the thin fabric.
I wanted to watch the tape. He wanted to watch the tape. And, for a while nobody voiced that desire. Until...
"This TV is shit! Do you fancy putting that tape on for a bit?" Charlie asked.
Being 20, I was still shy and nowhere near as bold as I would be a few years later. I looked at Charlie and didn't say a word.
"I want to see which bits you like. See if they're same as mine?" he added.
