Me & My Best Friend's Dad

"We shouldn't be doing this," Mr. Young kept mumbling under his breath. Still, he made no move to remove my head from his lap.

Freshly twenty-one, I was back home for the summer, and I had planned to catch up with Cole, my best friend since childhood who I hadn't seen since we graduated high school. But Cole wasn't home when I stopped by his house; instead, his dad, Mr. Young, had answered the door.

"Andy!" Mr. Young smiled as he greeted me. "Are you back from college?"

"Yessir, just for the summer," I replied.

"Come inside," he beckoned. "Cole should be back soon, he just ran out to run some errands."

I followed him into the house, taking the chance to admire how he looked. In the time I'd been gone, Mr. Young didn't seem to have changed one bit. Now in his forties, he was still as handsome as ever.

My parents divorced when I was pretty young, so I'd spent most of my time with Cole and his family. Cole's parents had always looked after me, and over time they became my de facto godparents.

As I came to terms with my sexuality in my teenage years, Mr. Young also became the chief object of all my fantasies. At six-foot-one, he cut an imposing figure that left an impact on my imagination, and he was probably integral to my realization that I was attracted to men. Throughout the years, he'd maintained a relatively active lifestyle and kept in good shape. But it was the way he would smile at me, his hair falling into those warm brown eyes, that would always make my breath catch. He cared about me.

"Are you allowed to drink yet?" He winked at me.

We were in the kitchen, where he pulled out two beers from the fridge and passed me one.

"I'm legal somewhere," I joked, opening it and taking a swig.

Mr. Young led me around the house, showing me anything and everything that had changed or been replaced while I was at college. We made small talk as we reached the spare bedroom, which had been converted into an office space for him to work from home, furnished with a desk and a leather chair, where the talk turned to my love life.

"Have you been dating any good guys?" He asked me.

I'd come out when I was a teenager, and Cole's parents were cool about it, unlike my own parents.

"I was hooking up with someone but it was just casual," I said.

I explained to him about the few guys I did manage to date, but they usually wanted nothing more than sex. As I spoke, I became aware that he was looking me over. Was he checking me out? I wasn't overly muscular, but I was proud of my physique. I'd been working out with my friends for the past year, and my lanky frame had managed to pick up just a bit of bulk. Nah, I thought to myself. I was just projecting.

"And you're okay with that?" He asked me, his expression inscrutable.

"I guess guys mostly just want to have fun," I replied. "But you're a man too, Mr. Young, so maybe you already know that."

"That's true."

As we talked, he seemed to be curious about my sex life on campus, so I obliged him, providing details wherever he wanted to know more. Throughout it all, I couldn't help but keep an eye on his groin area. There was no question about it--all the sex talk was making his bulge more and more noticeable.

An awkward silence set in as we finished our beers.

"Well, I could go get us some more," Mr. Young said. Absentmindedly, he reached down to adjust his pants, which had grown tighter around his growing bulge.

My heart started to pound. "Sir." I looked him in the eye. "Do you need some help?"

I'd deliberately phrased my wording to be vague so that I could plausibly be talking about anything else, but I knew that he knew I meant something else. Was this really about to happen?

He hesitated, and that was all that I needed. Instinct took over as I approached him.

"Let me do it," I said, my voice soft. I reached down and, praying inwardly that he wouldn't stop me, placed my hand on his bulge.

At my touch, Mr. Young seemed paralyzed with indecision. But, if I didn't take control right then and there, I knew I would never again have this opportunity.

"It's okay," I said. Gently, I pressed him into the leather chair. I knelt down between his legs and, before he could have any second thoughts, unzipped the fly on his slacks to reveal his bulge straining against his briefs.

I could see his pre-cum staining the front of his briefs. Lowering my head, I tongued the stain, tasting cotton and his saltiness.

"Andy," Mr. Young mumbled. He put his hands on my head, gripping my hair as if he was about to pull me off of him.

Before he could remove my head from his lap, I reached both of my hands and slipped off his briefs, freeing his cock.

It was uncircumcised, and already semi-hard. I didn't give him any time to protest. I took him into my mouth, all the way to the base where I paused, my nose pressed against his groin, breathing in his faint musk.

Slowly, surely, I began to move. I teased his cock with my tongue as I slipped my mouth up and down, coaxing more of his fluid into his erection and bringing it to full mast.

"Andy," Mr. Young groaned. "We can't be doing this..."

He was pulling on my hair now. But, instead of pulling me off and contrary to his words, he was only pulling far enough until just the tip remained in my mouth before pressing me fully back onto his cock.

I had no intention of stopping; I'd wanted to do this for so long. At his words, I took a deep breath--and slid his cock further into my mouth until it was fully down my throat. I was determined to give him the best head of his life.

His grip on my hair immediately tightened. "Oh, fuck..."

As I deep-throated Mr. Young's cock, I looked up at him. He had leaned further backwards into his leather chair and his eyes were closed. Small groans escaped his lips each time I pulled my mouth across the full length of his eight inches, doing my best to make the sensation feel as soft, wet, and warm as possible. He was so fucking handsome.

"Andy..."

The sound of him saying my name turned me on like crazy. I'd fantasized about doing this to him ever since I was a teenager, and it was surreal that this was happening right now. I bobbed my head faster. I wanted to milk every last drop out of him.

"Oh, fuck, Andy..."

I knew Mr. Young felt conflicted. I knew he had reservations about having his cock sucked by his son's best friend. But, I also knew that a man has needs and, despite his protestations, I knew he wouldn't stop me. He was too far gone; it simply felt too good to stop.

He began to thrust, almost involuntarily, with rhythmic cadence. Each time my mouth pulled away, his pelvis jerked upward to meet me as I brought my mouth back down. As his cock pushed itself down my throat, he ground his hips, pressing my face harder against his skin.

I was in heaven. Here was a man who had been like a surrogate father to me, someone who I knew cared for me deeply, someone who I trusted. I'd fantasized over the years about pleasuring him, about doing what I could to make him feel good in return for all the good he'd ever done for me. Every man has his needs, and I wanted to be the one handling his.

I knew we were crossing a line. Mr. Young was married--and, indeed, I could feel the metal of his wedding band as he pressed his hand against my head--and Mrs. Young had been kind to me over the years. I knew, on some level, that what we were doing was wrong. But, I couldn't help it. I wanted him. I wanted him so badly. What could go wrong with giving him a helping hand--or a helping mouth?

"Andy," Mr. Young said. His breathing was becoming increasingly labored. "I'm..."

Suddenly, I heard the sound of a door being slammed shut and a voice calling out, most likely from the foyer.

"Dad? Andy? Are you guys here?"

It was Cole.

"Shit!" Mr. Young swore under his breath.

I didn't care. I was determined; I'd come this far, and I wanted to see it to the end. I knew we still had a minute before Cole would find us.

I redoubled my efforts at sucking Mr. Young's cock. I moved faster, urgently, causing him to buck his hips. He wasn't going to stop me; he was too close.

"Andy, I'm close," Mr. Young breathed.

The sound of footsteps grew louder; I slipped his cock in and out, milking him with my throat. Then, as Cole approached--

Mr. Young stiffened, pressed and held my head against his pelvis, and his cock began to pump. With spasm after spasm, he unloaded his sperm directly down my throat.