Hudson Family Tales

When I got home from Pop's, it was no surprise Dad didn't have much to say, other than, "You find a job yet?"

"No, not yet," I said sheepishly. I made my way to my room and dropped myself onto my bed, exhausted from my time Pop.

I closed my eyes, only to hear a knock. My dick tingled in my boxers. My doorknob turned and Dad peeked his head in. "I'm goin' to your Uncle John's for poker night. I'll ask if he has any work you can do at the office 'til you go to school."

It wasn't what I wanted to hear.

I wanted Dad to come in and sit on my bed, and tell me he was sorry for being so cruel over the past week, ignoring that we'd shared the hottest sex any father and son ever could. I felt like such a pussy, but I wanted him to be sorry for making me feel like shit. "Cool," I said.

Dad looked like he was going to tell me not to be a smart ass, but instead, he just lingered for a moment, then left me lounging on my bed. He closed the door as softly as he'd opened it.

I watched the sun sink behind the trees outside, and a while later, the front door closed. He was gone. He didn't even say bye.

I looked around my room. In the dark, it was exactly like when Dad's hairy ass cheeks drunkenly stumbled out last week, leaving me in bed with a load of his cum still coating the inside of my aching hole. I remembered laying in my sheets, hoping the fuck he'd just pounded into me would be the beginning of something new for us.

But as headlights shot through my curtains and Dad drove off into the night, I figured it wasn't ever going to happen again.

That didn't stop me from wanting him.

I realized that even though so much had changed in the past week, some things hadn't. I thought back on the day I just had with Pop. I loved him, and I was thankful for him, but there was something about Dad I felt hungry for that his dad couldn't give me.

I tried wrapping myself up in my comforter to see if I'd feel any of Dad still lingering, thinking of his hard, damp body thrashing me around in it. But it was no good. He wasn't there anymore.

Next thing I knew, I was down the hall, my fingers nudging Dad's door open in the dark.

I wasn't sure why I'd crept so softly to this room. I was home alone. I figured I just knew I was violating his privacy. Dad always warned me to keep out of his room. That was what made for half my curiosity the week before, when he summoned me in there.

I knelt onto Dad's cool sheets and crawled toward his pillow. I clenched onto it and brought it up against my face in the dark, pushing it as hard as I could against my nose and mouth. I breathed him in.

It sent a charge down my body, and before I knew it, one of my hands made its way into my boxers as the other continued to smother myself in Dad's scent. I rustled around my growing dick, satisfying its tingling desire to be touched.

Soon, I could feel myself edging on a climax and decided to trap my erection back into my shorts. I set the pillow down.

I wanted more. I didn't know what, but I'd find it.

I rolled over and pulled the chain cord on his nightstand lamp. The room lit up in the same golden glow as last week. Flashes of Dad drunkenly letting his towel fall in front of me ran through my mind. I could smell the musk of his cock. I considered reaching back down into my boxers. It would be easy to jerk out a big load within seconds. I was so turned on.

Instead, I reached down for the little drawer on Dad's nightstand. I couldn't believe that in eighteen years, I'd never known what Dad kept next to him while he slept. Would there be porn mags like in Pop's drawer?

When it rolled open, I looked down to find lotion, a small tan envelope, and a handful of condoms. My heart was pounding. It was bad enough I'd come into Dad's room while he was gone. Now I was really doubling down.

I hopped up from the bed and peeked out Dad's window, at the dark empty driveway. There was no reason he'd be back, but I wanted some reassurance that I was still home alone. I breathed out a sigh of relief, making my way back onto the bed and picking out the envelope from the drawer. I slipped a finger inside the flap and it slid across something glossy.

There were photos in this thing.

I pulled out a thin stack of polaroids and gazed down at the top image. It was a picture of Kyle and me, in our trunks at the pool. It was taken a few years back, when we were maybe fourteen. I stood proudly next to my brother, and he stood even more proudly next to me, our teenage arms draped around each other's bare shoulders, our skinny chests side by side.

There wasn't a trace of hair on our nipples, and just a little growing in under our arms, meaning we were still young enough to get along. Dad must have missed that, too.

When I closed my eyes, I could still imagine the moment Dad took that picture, on one of the rare days I ever saw him without a shirt on. His chest hair mesmerized me as he instructed Kyle and I to stand together and let him snap a memory for later with his old camera.

I moved the photo to the back of the stack and looked down at the next one.

It was of Uncle John, a long time ago. He looked a little older than me now, around twenty maybe. The photo seemed to be from some kind of camping trip, one summer in the nineties. He, too, was shirtless, showing off a big fish he must have caught.

I noticed my eyes wander from the fish over to Uncle John's bushy armpit. It must have been a hot day. There was a small bead of sweat rolling down the side of his torso that no one else would probably ever notice. I wasn't sure why I couldn't take my eyes off of it.

I decided to move on.

The next photo stopped me dead in my tracks. It looked like it was from that same camping trip, but this time Uncle John wasn't alone in the picture. And he wasn't just shirtless.

Dad and Uncle John both stood in the frame, fully naked in front of the lake. They posed just like Kyle and me in the first picture. Their thick arms rested on each other's broad shoulders, seeming to intentionally show off their studly young muscles to the camera. The college football player and his wrestler brother smiled big in the nude.

Both of the young Hudson men had hair on their chests, but not as much as they did now. In the photo, each presented a pattern more like mine, mainly dark from their navels down, the bushiest heading into their tufty pubes.

Once I saw them, I couldn't take my eyes off their crotches. Dad and Uncle John were otherwise so youthful, but their lofty cocks were just like what I'd seen on Dad last week. Hefty and thick.

Now, as I gazed down, there were two of them hanging in front of me.

My own dick raged in my shorts. I could feel a slight wetness from the pre-cum. I considered pumping out a load right then, but I had to see what was left in the stack. There seemed to be a few more shots.

It was worth it. The next photo was a close up of someone's ass cheeks, plump and tan with a light dusting of dark hair on them, and also what looked like... a trail of cum?

A couple translucent white streaks glimmered across the cheeks, and I couldn't help but wonder whose ass this was. It was hard to tell. Whoever it belonged to, my mouth watered at the thought of touching the spunk on it with my tongue.

The next picture showed what I presumed were Dad's fingers, halfway pushed into some woman's trimmed pussy. The lighting was relatively dark, but the flash from the camera showed how wet this woman was. Dad's fingers and knuckles glistened as they made a salute into this lady's tight hole.

Dad hated Mom so much, I imagined it wasn't her. But I had no idea who else it could be. If Dad dated or fucked other women, it wasn't while I was ever home.

In the years since Mom left, he didn't talk about women much. On some nights, I could hear the faint moans of a woman getting fucked coming from his room, but I knew he was just watching a video. No one was ever at our house but Dad and me.

When I flipped to the final picture, I was stunned. My lungs froze solid and my heart felt like I'd put one foot over the side of a skyscraper.

On the glossy polaroid, it was me.

I was buck naked. Face down on my bed.

I peered at my butt, and beside the peach fuzz which darkened closer to my crack, I could see just a little of the residue Dad had left on me.

Holy shit, I thought. Not only had Dad gone back into my room that night, but he took his old camera with him.

The flash exposed my entire backside. Part of me felt violated in a way I'd never been before.

But most of me was turned on, knowing Dad considered my ass this much of an achievement.

I laid back on Dad's bed and pulled down my shorts, wasting no time before I clenched my dick and started beating it.

I stared into the photo of my own used ass, finally knowing that when Dad left me in my dark bedroom, filled up with his load, it was something he did want to remember.

I rubbed myself into oblivion, then ate every fingertip of cum I could scrape off my body, imagining it was Dad's cock feeding my animalistic desire for more of him.