Remsen, New York. A rural town in the middle of nowhere, circa 1979.
...
When I left work around noon on July 5th, I didn't realize how much my life was going to change. Because business was dead, the owner of the AGWAY that I worked at during the summer let me out early. I was going to call my Dad and ask him to pick me up, but decided that because it was a nice day I would walk.
I shortened the trip by cutting across some farms and hopping over the creek, which because it had been dry was only a couple of feet wide, and that made what would have been a 3 mile walk about half the distance.
Along the way I thought about how I would spend the day. I knew I would get stuck doing some of th chores around our modest sized farm, but also knew that I wanted to have a little fun, and that fun's name was Brady.
I had lived near Brady all of my life, and we had graduated high school last month. It was really strange to think you knew somebody, only to find out that you didn't really know them at all, but that was what happened when I walked home with Brady after Lenny Miller's graduation party.
It was along the route that I had just taken that we stopped to take a leak, needing to get rid of some of the keg of beer that we had helped kick at Lenny's party. We were standing side by side, tinkling away, when Brady said that he wished he had a big dick like mine.
Truth be told, it isn't all that big, but because I had been looking at Brady's cock it had gotten a little aroused, making it look more impressive than it might have usually. I didn't realize up until a few months ago that I might be gay, but after that time with Mr. Thomann it was dawning on me that I had more than a casual interest in my own gender.
Mr. Thomann is - was I should say - my gym teacher, and after I missed the late bus after soccer practice he offered me a ride home. On the way he mentioned that I had really picked up my game that year and he liked what he saw.
By the time I got home I found out that he liked what I showed in the shower more than what I did on the soccer team, but that was okay with me. It was a great experience, and I had been anxious to continue my education in that area, but it's a small town and people don't broadcast being gay, unless you want your ass kicked.
So there I was, standing there with my neighbor Brady checking out each other's dicks. He said he liked mine because it was so big, and I told him that I wished I was uncircumcised like he was. The looking turned to touching, and then Brady said that he must be drunk to be doing this with another guy, and I told him that was the way I felt too.
Then, after we stood there stroking each other's erect cocks for a while, Brady said that he must be really drunk, because he wanted to do something that he never did before, and that was when he dropped down to his knees and began sucking my cock.
Brady was lying of course, because he had obviously sucked dick before. He gave me better head that Mr. Thurman had, and after I came I reciprocated. Brady's dick was easier to suck because it was thinner than Mr. Thurman's had been, and by the time Brady shot his seed down my throat I was hooked.
Since that day Brady and I had gotten together at every opportunity, gobbling each other's dicks like there was no tomorrow, and I was starting to consider something that Brady wanted me to do to him.
The other day he had mentioned that he had read something in a book that guys enjoy getting fucked in the ass by other guys. I told him that I wasn't interested in that, and was more than content to suck his dick forever, but had no interest in having him put that skinny rod of his in my bottom.
No. That wasn't what Brady wanted, he explained. he wanted me to stick MY cock in HIS ass. That seemed impossible, because the head of my cock is almost the size of a plum, and even if it fit in somehow, it would probably hurt Brady like hell.
No. Brady said that he was told by somebody that if you used a lot of lubrication and you got the guy ready, it would hurt at all, and then he had me stick my finger in his ass. It was hot and tight, but as I wiggled my finger in there the idea got more interesting to me.
Brady said that he was willing to give it a try, and even offered to get some kind of lubricant if I would do it to him. Not that he had even done it before, of course, he was just curious. Having figured out that my dick was far from the first that had even crossed Brady's lips, I suspected that Brady had found out about getting fucked in the ass from something other than a book, but that was okay with me
It would be new to me, because Mr. Thomann had never ventured anywhere near my rear end, and he had been my only other lover besides Brady, so after a lot of thought I was going to tell Brady that I would do it to him.
As I cut through the field towards the back door of our house, Brady's ass was what I was thinking of, and just before I went up the back porch I happened to glance along the side of the house.
Brady's bike. Brady was here. I was elated for a second, but then realized that Brady knew I was going to be at work all day. Why was he here? I looked around towards where the corn was beginning to flourish, and saw no sign of him or my Dad. Maybe my old man had Brady doing some work for him. It wasn't uncommon for us kids to work a little at the neighbor's places when they needed help.
I heard what sounded like my father's voice coming from the far side of the house, so I walked around to see what he was up to, expecting to see him and Brady maybe clearing the patch of land that my old man always talked about using.
They weren't there, but the voice was my father's, except it was coming from inside the house,, and as I neared the open window with the curtains rippling in the breeze, the voice became clearer.
"That's it. Take it deeper. Get down on that cock."
I don't know what I expected to see when I looked through my father's bedroom window, but what I did see was so unfathomable that I did a double take before backing away in shock.
There was my father, Gary Harper. Big Gary Harper, ex-marine. The most macho man I had ever met. My Dad, standing there next to the bed, as naked as a jaybird, with one hand on his hip and the other on the back of the head of the person kneeling in front of him, imploring him to suck his cock and take it deeper.
In retrospect, it wasn't all that surprising that my old man would have sex, and want it just as much as I did. I had heard a rumor that after my Mom divorced him he had been screwing one of the women who worked at the school as a custodian, but the blonde hair my father had a fist-full of didn't belong to Sally Leonard.
It was Brady.
The thought that my father was gay hit me like a punch in the gut, because if I was making a list of the most unlikely men to be gay, my Dad would be right up there with John Wayne and Clint Eastwood. Yet there he was, standing there in a macho pose while my lover sucked his cock.
My father, Big Gary as he's known around down, is about 6'2" and 200 pounds, with his now gray hair still cut as short as it had been back in his Marine days. He was still a muscular guy from working on the farm, with the only concession to his 55 years being that the hair on his broad chest was turning gray.
I peeked back in around the billowing curtains, knowing that if my old man ever caught me spying on him, he would kick my butt, and as I looked in the back of my mind I thought that maybe - just maybe - I had been seeing things.
Brady. Poor little innocent Brady who claimed her never did anything like that before, had assumed the position he often did with me, kneeling down with his hands busy. His right hand was down between his own legs, yanking on his long skinny dick furiously while holding the shaft of my father's cock with his left.
Despite the fact that my head was spinning I almost laughed when I saw what Brady was holding. Around town my Dad is known as Big Gary, with me getting the name Little Gary because Dad is a couple inches taller and maybe 20 pounds heavier than me, and when I saw what Brady couldn't quite get his hand completely around, I could tell that our names were correct.
Brady liked to gush about how big my cock is, and I guess it is sort of, being about 7 or so inches long when hard, but as Brady's mouth slid all the down from the tip of my old man's cock I could tell dad's was way bigger. Brady's mouth could only get close to where his hand gripped the shaft, while my friend could nearly deep throat me when he got going.
I ducked back against the house when they started moving around, and when I peeked back inside I saw that my old man had positioned Brady on his hands and knees at the end of the bed. From where I stood I was getting a sideways view of my father squirting some kind of lotion in the crack of Brady's ass, and then sticking a finger in. Two fingers, maybe more. I couldn't tell from my angle but my father was really twisting his arm as it lurched forward.
Besides, I confess to paying more attention to my father's cock as it swayed in front of him like a log. The rusty brown-hued skin was glistening from the lotion that my old man was rubbing on it, and I then learned that my father wasn't circumcised, as I saw the foreskin slide back and forth over the head of his manhood with his stroking.
Then it was happening. Tossing the bottle of lotion aside, my father stepped up behind Brady, who was still perched on the end of the bed with his ass high and his legs spread, and calmly brought his tool up to Brady's asshole.
I couldn't see my old man's cock go in, which was just as well, but I heard Brady's scream, which sent shivers down my spine and made me glad the neighbors were far away, and I saw my father leaning forward while reaching out to grab Brady's blonde locks and pull his head back as he kept pushing forward.
"Shut up, you fucking pussy!" my old man snapped before groaning as he apparently fully impaled Brady. "You wanted my big cock so bad, then take it. Take it all."
Somehow Brady was, although he was whimpering and grabbing the bedding with his fists, and then my father pulled his massive organ nearly all the way out before sliding all the way back in. Again. And again. Faster and harder with every thrust, so hard that the bed started banging into the wall behind it.
Dad was like a machine, a fucking machine, and Brady took it, his head buried in a pillow while my father drilled him relentlessly. It seemed to go on forever, and soon they were both covered with sweat, with their wet skin making a slapping sounds as they collided over and over.
I could see the droplets of sweat flying off my father's hairy body as his face and neck got redder and the muscles in his shoulders and legs rippled, and I suddenly realized that I was squeezing my cock through my slacks as I watched, and I was hard as blue steel.
Now my father was crouched over Brady, like a praying mantis devouring its prey, cursing and insulting Brady while the bed lurched against the wall. Dad's arms went around Brady's skinny body, and I could see Dad's hand grab Brady's cock as it bounced around under him and started yanking on it hard.
My father was making sounds that sounded inhuman, and then let out a howl that sent shivers down my spine. I could see Brady's dick squirting cum all over the bed while his screams were muffled by the mouthful of pillow he was eating after dad shoved his face into it, and then it was over.
The entire scene was surreal. My father hunched over my friend, with both of them looking like drowned rats as their bodies heaved with heavy breathing, while I stood outside baking in the sun. My shirt/uniform top with my name Gary on the patch was so wet that it was pasted to my chest, while below, the wet spot that covered my crotch was not because of perspiration.
It was about that moment that I thought it might be a good idea to disappear, but that thought came a second too late, because just as I was about to turn and go, my old man climbed off of Brady and stood up, turning toward the window instead of away.
Our eyes met for the briefest of seconds as the curtains billowed in the breeze, and I saw Dad's mouth start to open, but then I was off. I can run pretty fast, but never faster than that afternoon. I tore through the field behind the barn, not looking back while imagining my naked old man nipping at my heels after jumping out the window, ready to make me pay for spying on him.
When I finally looked back, there was no one behind me. A quarter of a mile back, the farmhouse looked the same, and so I kept walking until I got to the creek, where it took a couple of hand-fulls of water to soothe my parched throat while I tried to figure out what to do.
I couldn't go back home. Not ever. That was out of the question. Maybe I could sneak back home and grab some clothes when it got dark, and then - who knows? Maybe they would let me sleep in the break room at work for a while.
It was a couple of hours later when Brady came back. He was all clean and looking normal, and he gave be a sheepish grin that I would have returned if I wasn't so pissed.
"Figured you'd be back here. What's up?" he said, and I looked at him like he was out of his mind.
"I know what you're thinking," he said after a bit.
"No you don't," I said, which was true, because even I didn't know what I was thinking.
