Getting Bi with Help From Family

In Part 1, we see 18-year-olds Marty & Jake help each other out after high school track practice. What they don't know, is that John, Jake's father, has gotten off of work early.

Part 2 - Like Son, Like Father

John Vilsack left work early, entrusting his employees to close shop.

John was a mild-mannered man who had grown up on a nearby farm, long since sold upon the passing of his parents. He owned a lucrative farming equipment repair shop that attracted customers hundreds of miles away.

He bore a mustache and maintained his sinewy stature even at age 46, a physical trait his only son inherited. He was tall and broad-shouldered. The town knew him to wear only button-ups and tight-fitting jeans, a wardrobe staple for a man who grew up riding horses.

John hadn’t thought much about his bulge, knowing it existed and was quite visible—balls and cock tucked to one side. He didn’t know how much a blatant, public show of crotch embarrassed his son. But it didn’t matter.

Always happy, despite his wife leaving when Jake was just 3, John hummed along to the radio in his pick-up, excited to have dinner at a decent time. More time to spend with his son, to boot.

He unlocked the front door and entered the foyer. On the ground was a trail of two pairs of jeans and two shirts. Unable to see the couch from the entry, he heard the moaning sounds. John thought his son was playing a video game. Likely with Marty, a fixture of their household for years. Always welcome.

As John bent over to pick up the jeans on the foyer floor, the moaning from the TV—the profile of which he could see but whose screen wasn’t yet in view—became more evident. “Eat my pussy,” a woman’s voice screamed as John made his way into the living room before predicting the scene.

On the couch sat his 18-year-old son, Jake. A skinny, pasty white boy whose slender track-star body bore lean muscles. In his hand was his penis, hard as a rock and just as thick.

It’s one thing to be a father and catch your son masturbating. It’s another to see him sitting next to his lifelong friend. Marty was caramel-skinned, the son of immigrants. His body otherwise mirrored that of his blond-haired, blue-eyed friend. John noticed the size difference before words stumbled out of his mouth.

“Hey guys,” John stammered. His cock grew, straining against his denim. He placed the boys' clothes over his crotch.

The boys, eyes transfixed on three women going at it, jumped at the sound and sight of Jake’s father.

Jake cursed, jumping up, his cock swinging in front of him. He panicked, frantically searching for something to cover himself. The blanket on the back of the couch would do.

Jake didn’t unfold the blanket. He planted himself on the couch with the folded fabric covering his shrinking cock.

Marty half-assedly tugged on the blanket to get his friend to share. Marty’s hard-on wasn’t going away. It pointed up to the ceiling. Damnit.

“Dad, what the fuck,” Jake yelled while Marty quietly greeted, “Hi, Mr. Vilsack.”

John stared, frozen in curiosity and perhaps out of fear of making his bulge prominent.

Is this the beginning?

. He was unsure if he should normalize, de-escalate, or walk out of the room. Should he reprimand them? That didn’t seem right. He enjoyed similar situations himself in community college. That would be hypocritical.

“Hey Martin,” John said as if his son’s friend wasn’t 10 feet from him with an erection barely hidden by hands.

But John’s response was muffled by the loud TV: “I’m cumming, I’m cumming,” a woman yelled.

Wide-eyed, Jake quickly turned off the tv entirely. Silence.

“Look,” John began cautiously. He set the pants on the floor and walked to the couch. Jake tensed, and Marty was a deer in headlights—naked and erect, Mr. Vilsack walking towards him. Marty thought of nuns, to no avail.

John sat to Marty’s left, as far from the guys as possible. “This,” John gestured with a free hand, “is normal.”

“Oh my god, dad,” Jake said, face flush. “This,” he mimicked the gesture in return, “is not fucking normal.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” John said calmly. “I’m just trying to tell you that I’m not judging you. I don’t want anyone here to be ashamed of being nude or—“

Jake groaned so loudly Marty thought he heard the windows shake.

“Or!” John yelled, regaining control of the floor. “Pleasing yourself with another guy. It’s fucking normal. You guys are normal. And there’s nothing wrong with,” John paused to choose the right words, “what,” he stumbled. “You’re doing.” Very articulate, John.

“We were just watching some porn,” Marty said awkwardly, looking John in the eyes.

“Yes, I saw that.”

“Lesbian porn.”

“Oh, that’s one of the best kinds,” John said with trepidation. Where was the line, and was it crossed? John recalled the image of Jake’s penis, ampler than his, though not by much, and he was proud. His son was going to do just fine in the Girls Department. Grandkids guaranteed.

Jake sat in silence and confusion. His heart beat out of his chest. Was it embarrassment? Yes, absolutely. But part of him felt relief that his father had seen him naked and erect, though he was unsure why. His and Marty's secret was out--that didn't feel good. But to have someone's eyes on him in such a vulnerable moment was a rush, even if it was his father's.

Marty, not one to get embarrassed—the same man who gargled cum and had no regrets—relaxed his posture. Mr. Vilsack had already seen everything. There was no point in pretending that this was a secret anymore. However, Marty was grateful he hadn’t walked in on the scene he and Jake shared earlier.

“Porn is one of life’s great joys,” John said sarcastically. His legs tingled with indecision. Move along? Stay here? Give them their clothes?

“Watch with us, Mr. Vilsack,” said Marty, enthused.

Jake, jaw clenched, gradually turned his head to Marty. Is Marty asking Jake’s father to watch porn with them?

“Oh, I’m not sure—“ John began.

“If there’s nothing to be ashamed of and this is normal, then it’s normal for you to join in,” Marty argued.

Jake shook his head to clear his thoughts. He stared at the floor, unable to look at either man. Marty was bullshitting. Jake's father masturbating with him and his friend wasn't normal. But Jake didn't speak up. Speechless, it would be a lie to say he wasn't curious about how his father's dick looked. Was it bigger? Longer? Were his balls taut like Jake's? Did he jerk off the same way? Jake's heart pumped blood into his crotch.

John was speechless. If John said no, would he give the impression that jacking off with friends was wrong? If he stayed, would that be inappropriate? Almost certainly. And yet John, thinking of his father and brother, couldn’t move.

John had dried the well of dating options in town years ago. Having given up on finding love, or even great sex, he accepted near-celibacy years ago. The prospect of being in the same room with anyone in a state of sexual pleasure was his subconscious motivator, freezing his actions and clouding his mind.

Marty broke the silence. “We’re just men hanging out. I need to blow, or these balls are gonna go indigo,” Marty stated, jerking off again.

John watched Jake bow his head, face expressionless.

“Mr. Vilsack, I’m sure you understand where I’m coming from,” Marty said, taking control of the situation. “I’m going to put porn back on and jerk off until I cum. You can join or leave. Either way, I’m going to finish.”

Jake didn't protest. His cock nearly its full size, he shifted his seat, eyes fixed on the floor in front of him. Jake knew his silence was implicit permission. He cursed himself for not speaking up, but an unignorable part of his conscience--the one that drove all of his sexual desires--dominated any rational thought.

“If you want to stay, I think that’d be cool,” Marty said, voice easy. He grabbed the remote with his free hand and turned on the tv. The lesbian threesome resumed.

“Right, Jake?” Marty asked through clenched teeth.

“Whatever,” Jake surrendered with a shrug. He could ask his father for his clothes, but he didn't. Jake could wrap the blanket around him and walk straight to his room but didn't. He could think of dead dogs and old nuns to subdue his erection, but he didn't. Jake could say no but didn't want to. Whether right or wrong, he wanted to see what his father looked like--down 'there.'

John dropped the clothes on the floor--not making the best housekeeping example. Marty noticed the bulge in Mr. Vilsack's jeans, more significant than it usually was, his eyes following it as John sat on Marty's side, opposite his son.

Marty enjoyed himself with a firm grip on his cock, and his chest broadened. It would be a lie to say that he didn’t enjoy jacking off in front of others, even if one ‘other’ was his best friend’s dad. Marty even commented while they watched lesbian porn.

John said he’d keep his clothes on. After a few minutes, his cock snaked down his thigh against his tight denim.

“Holy shit.” Marty peered down at Mr. Vilsack’s crotch. “That’s big, Mr. Vilsack.”

John laughed, a little embarrassed. But it felt nice to be noticed. “Thanks, Martin,” he said. “You’re not too bad yourself.” He punched Marty’s shoulder lightly, accompanied by an approving fatherly smile.

“Thanks,” Marty said, jerking his cock. “But I think Jake here has us both beat.”

The corner of Jake's mouth curled. He shifted his sight to the lesbians on TV.

“Yeah?” John's voice was cautious and curious. He fixated on the women on TV.

“It’s huge,” Marty said. “I mean, mine’s just a little over six.” He jerked his cock and watched some women eat pussy. “But he’s a couple of inches bigger than me.”

John nodded.

“How big are you, Mr. Vilsack?” Marty spoke as casually as if he were asking what was for dinner.

John stammered, “Seven inches. On the nose.”

“Tight,” Marty grinned. He nodded in approval and skimmed Mr. Vilsack's crotch.

The three of them watched porn a little longer. The sound of women having orgasms filled the house. Marty jerked off while John had begun to rub his bulge. Jake, whose neck hurt from staring at the floor, was reluctantly watching the TV.

“Take it out, Mr. Vilsack,” Marty invited. “Safe space, right?”

“Whatever you're comfortable with,” John reassured Marty, though meant for his son. John placed his hand on his bulge. In truth, he wanted to feel the pressure of his hand, though he knew the boys construed it as modesty.

Nothing from Jake. Marty chimed, “You too, Jake. You’re either going to finish off here or in another room. Either way, we’ll know exactly what you’re doing. Might as well enjoy it in the company of others, right?”

“That’s what I’d always said when I was your age,” John chuckled.

Jake couldn't ignore what his father just said, but his face didn't let on. Had his father done the same thing when he was younger? Did Dad have male friends as Jake had in Marty? Why did he seem so comfortable with masturbating with his son? Why wasn't Jake disgusted at the thought?

John unbuttoned his jeans, threw them to the floor, and did the same with his collared shirt. Jake removed the blanket. His cock was there for the world--his father--to see.

Marty glimpsed John’s cock (which looked strikingly similar to Jake’s, just shorter) peeking out from the confines of his briefs. The tip shimmered with precum. Jake also caught sight, a satisfied curiosity to discover his father leaked precum as did he.

Marty laughed and pointed to John's cock head. “Does that often happen, Mr. Vilsack?”

“Hah,” John guffawed. “Every fucking time I get a boner.”

Breathing heavy with nerves, Jake chimed, "Me too." A slight smile directed at his father, he put the tip of his finger to his piss slit and lifted his hand to reveal a long string of the gel-like liquid between his finger and cock. All three men laughed. The tension eased.

Jake's gesture queued John. Perhaps John's son was okay with this. Given the family history, he wasn't surprised. John stood and removed his briefs. His cock, thick with a mushroom head and quite picturesque, sprung straight out, pointing at the television. He sighed as he sat back down and stroked his cock, utilizing his precum for slickness.

The three of them relaxed into their rhythms. They talked about things they found hot in the video, and John reminisced about a threesome with two women back in the day. Marty and Jake listened intently, occasionally taking their eyes off the screen to pay closer attention to John's arousing details.

Jake was in awe of his father's experiences. It was, admittedly, fucking hot. His cock stirred, and he cursed himself. The images in front of him and the story to his side were too much to ignore.

“…And then they kissed,” John concluded his story.

“With your cum in their mouths?” asked Marty, incredulous.

“And then they kissed me,” John said before boisterous laughter. “The things you’ll do when caught up in the moment.”

Marty also laughed, but Jake chuckled. He was on-edge--aroused but uneasy about showing his excitement. Jake enjoyed it, for reasons unknown, but hesitated to let on. He worried sharing jerk-off sessions with his father would be uncomfortable, but it was the opposite. He'd discovered things about his father he would never have guessed. Why should Jake be embarrassed if his father wasn't?

“Did you ever do anything with your family, Mr. Vilsack?” Marty asked his question with extreme caution. “You know, with a cousin or something?”

Jake's chest constricted and ceased his stroking. He gripped the base of his cock, knuckles turning white, cock blushing bright crimson. What the fuck was Marty thinking? And yet, Jake said nothing. He also wanted to know.

Still stroking his cock, John remembered coming home from community college and the odd routines his nuclear family had formed. In the silence, Jake looked away from the girl-on-girl-on-girl action. John avoided eye contact with his son and focused on Marty. Marty, though, unabashedly stared at Mr. Vilsack’s strokes.

“Honestly,” John said slowly, “My father, brother Rob, and I would do the same thing. With DVDs, of course,” John said with levity.

Just then, John and Jake’s eyes met. Jake looked away, squirming in his seat. A wide range of thoughts flooded his brain. Was this normal? Why was Jake still hard? His uncle Rob? With his grandfather? With his father? Jake knew of no one who would find it acceptable or normal. And yet, his gut intuited that it wasn't wrong. Jake absorbed his surroundings--masturbating with the two men he trusted most. How could this be wrong?

“I think it’s normal to be hard when another guy is hard,” John said, shrugging. Was he reading Jake’s mind? “I don’t think it matters who that other guy is. That’s kind of how it happened, I guess. It brought Rob and me closer.”

“Kind of like me and Jake,” Marty said. Marty playfully grabbed Jake's cock in between his strokes. Marty laughed at Jake's surprise that preceded a chortle.

Jake’s erection was on full display. Pulsing, thick, it danced between his legs when Marty gave it a shake. Marty looked at John as if he were showing off a new toy. John smiled, his blue eyes sparkling.

“Fuck off, man,” Jake clamored demurely. He insincerely swatted at Marty's hands.

“No, you fuck off,” Marty shrieked. “See what I have to deal with, Mr. Vilsack?”

John smirked. He resisted complimenting his son on the tool he was working with, but it might be going too far. Instead, he basked in the joy of intimate male camaraderie.

Marty, suddenly sentimental, said, “If my dad were alive and cool enough to do this with, I wouldn't pass up the chance to get to know him.”

“Yeah,” Jake agreed. He might be giving away too much, but Marty’s comment shouldn’t go unanswered.

Marty turned to Mr. Vilsack and grabbed his cock. Jake saw and wondered what had gotten into Marty. He seemed to be enjoying this more than anyone else.

“Yeah, y’all are the same girth. That’s wild,” Marty exclaimed. He released his friend’s dad’s cock and focused on the tv again.

John said nothing. The three of them jerked off in earnest, discreetly glancing at the other’s cock. John was proud of these two young men—their size and confidence. Marty was noticeably happy to be surrounded by signs of pleasure, even if it didn’t turn him on. Over time, Jake felt at ease.

Not surprisingly, John, with the deadest bedroom, was the first to blow. He angled himself inwards towards Marty--his behavior insinuating John's orgasm wouldn't put him off.

John, never a silent cummer, shouted, “Oh fuck, oh fuck.” Just before he shot, Marty surprised everyone (including himself) by bending over and taking Mr. Vilsack’s dick into his mouth.

John, taken aback but too committed, instinctively put his hands on Marty’s head and shoved him down his cock. Marty struggled but didn’t pull back. He swallowed spurt after spurt while John’s fingers dug into Marty’s messy jet-black hair.

Martin jerked himself off to orgasm, shooting up his chest, covering his hands, landing on his thighs, with one stream landing on Jake’s thigh. The room filled with the air of a primitive need to feel good.

The sight of Marty finally deepthroating Dad’s cock made Jake orgasm. Eye big and mouth agape, he backed away, intrigued as Marty drank cum—50% of Jake’s DNA. In the couch corner opposite his father, Jake shot streams so high that a glob landed in his hair. He angled his cock away and shot some onto Marty’s back.

Father and son yelled ‘fuck’ in unison. Marty gagged and made muffled noises. Women on TV were slapping asses and pussies, squirting, screaming, and dramatically moaning. The Vilsack household was in a state of chaotic bliss.

Jake and John's heads hung off the ends of the couch. Marty pulled up, gasping for air, as John’s hands fell from his head. “How the fuck do women do that?” Marty wondered.

“They don’t,” John chuckled, getting up with an engorged prick. Marty and Jake snickered.

John’s softening cock swung as he picked up everyone’s clothes and set them in a pile on the chair.

“Pizza tonight, boys?”

Stay tuned for Part 3, in which Jake & Marty play a late-night game from which Jake's father benefits greatly.