"I can always just nap the afternoon away," Dennis told his two sons as they headed out around noon, one to work, the other to have fun with the usual cohort of chums.
His older son had expressed concern that Dennis was down to his last unread book, and had suggested that Dennis go to the library. Dennis saw this as concern that he was becoming a bit of a hermit, but as always he laughed it off.
His house was the magnet for both sons' friends, even though they were young adults. Someone always seemed to be fixing a car in the driveway; tossing a Frisbee; playing the latest video game, or something, right up to sleeping over. Dennis could have claimed a quiet afternoon was overdue, but everybody knew he loved the joyous noise, and was always up to grill up a mess of burgers for the gang.
The very thought made Dennis smile, mostly about how he always wore his apron loose so that his anatomical reaction to the bouncy eighteen to twenty-five year old hotties frolicking on his lawn was hidden. Yes, Dennis reflected, more than just the noise was joyous. Truth be told, he had woken up with morning wood more than once speculating about how a particular pair of barely legal tits might feel, or how another lass might taste. Often, he climaxed with imagined images of pony-tailed bikini babes dancing in his brain - on their knees, their delicate fingers caressing his shaft, their lips tentatively kissing the tip of his hard cock, and then the virginal image sliding aside, their wantonness exposed as they swallow his cock whole, milking his cum.
About two in the afternoon, those sort of thoughts were once again dancing through Dennis' brain as he lazed on the couch, some cooking show unwatched on the TV, the book falling open on his belly. His last conscious thought was the recognition that his cock was getting turgid. "Not a bad chubby for an old guy," he mumbled as he dozed off.
The next thing Dennis sensed was his sweatpants sliding down, his hips reacting by rising just enough to facilitate the movement, his fat cock lolling half hard on his thigh. He felt two, or maybe three fingers tentatively explore his meat, first just a touch, then a rubbing of the silky outer layer of skin along the inner hardness, and finally, tracing all along the length, up to the underside of his swollen helmet, startling him with a fingernail along the frenulum, that tiny flap linking head to shaft.
His body shivered, but he resisted opening his eyes, in case it was all a dream, or, even worse, it might be real, but he might frighten off a shy lass, who perhaps was acting out a dare thinking he was asleep. As the fingers grew more confident, hefting his rigid prick, encircling it and stroking, Dennis began to wonder which of his sons' friends it might be. Quickly, he decided it really didn't matter much whether it was the freckled eighteen year old red head, or the twenty something curvy blonde physics major- they were all of age, and one mouth was as good as another, when it came to cock sucking, though of course talent might vary.
A big question was where she had come from, how she had come to be in his living room. All of the girls had left with his son, he was sure. Unless the guys had miscounted, and left one passed out on the bed, behind the rec room couch, or in the shower, she must be just a figment of his imagination.
