From Fiction to Fact

"Shit! Not now, please. Not now. No, no, no. Fuck."

I looked at my laptop as the final low battery warning faded away to black. It took with it an essay upload for a university waitlist and a summer job application. Normally at the first warning I would have just plugged it in and continued working, however I had somehow left the cord in my locker at school and I wouldn't be able to get it until Monday, two days from now.

After fuming and raging at my computer for a few moments, I left my room to get something to drink. While it wouldn't be the worst thing to wait until Monday—I had until the following Friday to get the essay submitted, and the application was one of many I was filling out in hopes of employment—I had free time this weekend and wanted to be done with them in order to get them checked off my list.

I prayed for luck to be on my side as I entered the kitchen and saw my dad's laptop on the counter. Before being given my own computer, I had used his occasionally and hoped that the login profile that I had used then was still accessible. I was thrilled when I opened it and the screen came to life without requesting a password. Normally, I would have logged him out and logged myself in, but not knowing if that would be a possibility, I ran to get my thumb drive that contained my essay in order to get it uploaded.

After plugging in the stick, I opened the folder and clicked on the file. When I did, the word processing program immediately popped up with a document already loaded before my file opened in a new window on the other side of the screen. Not one for snooping, I ignored my dad's document and clicked on the browser. It, too, was already open and appeared with a web page loaded. I noticed it was a website where people posted erotic stories. It was one I had come across myself during my web surfing and I maintained a profile to mark stories as favorites to revisit later. With a chuckle, I glanced at the page to see what he was reading and my humor quickly dried up.

The first thing I noticed was that most of the stories on the screen were tagged as incest with a few others as gay. A quick glance at the titles and summaries put me on edge. Many of them seemed to involve a guy named Burt which was a little too close to the nickname Curt—short for Curtis—I was called. While looking at the dates they were posted, I realized I was looking at my father's author page. These were stories he had written. With a pit of fear in my stomach, but unable to stop myself, I chose one at random and loaded it.

After a quick scan, I found a paragraph that described Burt and my jaw dropped. He was the second child of four, an eighteen year-old high school senior with a pale, lean body that was five feet nine inches tall. Burt had a thick mane of wavy auburn hair that hung to his shoulders. He wore a pair of black rimmed glasses over his bright, brown eyes that made his round, clean-shaven, blemish-free face look younger than it was. Those were all words that could be used to describe me.

Scanning deeper into the story, I read the action feeling more than a little discomfort. The scenario presented was one that had actually happened between me and my father. Even some of the dialogue matched my memory of the situation. However, instead of us sharing a hug and me going to my room to do homework after our conversation, in the story Andy—changed from my dad's name of Randy—dropped to his knees and sucked Burt's dick. Unable to stop myself, I read as Andy enjoyed his son's ten inch boner. In reality, my own was a healthy eight and a half inches which was large enough in its own right, but I wasn't going to complain about the embellishment. Otherwise, he described my dick well. It was uncut and curved upward with a thick bullet at the top. Part of me wondered how he knew but I didn't want to think about that too much.

The blow job Burt received read as pretty hot. Despite my earlier reaction of surprise to the categories on my father's page, I didn't find it at all creepy reading about the guy's father sucking him off, nor was I put off by the same sex aspect. I was bisexual and had a few guy friends who were fuck buddies and had also had the occasional random hook up with guys that I thought were hot and interesting. I hadn't been in a real relationship with another guy but didn't dismiss the possibility. Despite my openness, and even though I had been dicked and dicked other guys in return, I wasn't prepared for what happened next in the story.

I had expected Burt to reciprocate the blow and everyone to walk away happy, but instead, after Andy dropped his pants, he turned his back to Burt and bent over to present his ass to his son for fucking. Without hesitation, Burt slipped inside his dad and gave him a pretty hard dicking.

It was hard for me to believe this was ever a fantasy that entered my dad's mind. At six feet five inches tall and nearly two hundred fifty pounds of muscle, he, like Andy, was a forty-one year-old bear of a man that intimidated everyone around him, including those of us who knew how cuddly he could be. His pale, freckled skin was covered in an assortment of tattoos, many of which dated from his days as a Marine. After leaving the corps, he had let his bright red hair grow out and it now hung down to his waist, usually in a single, thick ponytail. On his square, weathered but handsome face was a thick red beard. Peeking out from under thin, red eyebrows was a pair of emerald eyes that could look equally inviting or threatening depending on his mood. And most of the time, there was little humor in them which made it hard to believe that the same man entertained such thoughts as those that were on the screen. Oddly, I could accept him sucking dick but submitting to having his ass fucked by someone who wasn't larger than him or at least his equal was incomprehensible.

Closing out of that story, I chose another and again recognized the situation as something that had really happened. And yet again it led to another round of Andy getting his ass fucked by Burt. On a hunch, I switched over to the file that had opened when I initially loaded my thumb drive. It was a work in progress involving Andy and Burt. As my father and I had done over the previous weekend, the two of them were watching a game on TV. Andy's wife, Flora—I chuckled at the stand in for Laura—had gone upstairs to watch a movie with the two youngest children, while the oldest one was out with friends, leaving the two of them alone on the sofa. Despite Andy's recognition of it being a bad idea, he gave in to Burt's request and leaned over to his son's crotch to suck his dick while they watched the game.

Despite having the facts in front of me, my mind did not want to accept what I was seeing. The initial discomfort I had felt at the discovery had given way to a general sense of disbelief. And it wasn't even about being featured as a modified character in his stories, it was the thought that my dad had obviously fantasized about getting fucked by me.

Often.

One would think that the idea of incest would have at least put me off, but it didn't. Some of the stories I had read on the site were in the same category and, still unknown to anyone else to this day, I had a cousin that I messed around with who was only a few months older than me. We had practically grown up together and experimented with each other which led to us becoming fuck buddies. Admittedly I didn't fantasize about my cousin, but it didn't bother me that my dad was having less than paternal thoughts about me. However, the idea of him wanting to bend over for me was a bit weird. Even with the graphic depictions I had read, it was hard to see him bending over for any guy.

Realizing that it was late and that he could show up at any moment, I made a note of his screen name then completed my original tasks. After erasing my recent usage history, I closed the lid on the laptop and left it where it was on the counter as if it had been untouched.

After grabbing a snack, I went to sit and watch TV with the knowledge of my father's fantasizes in my head.

When my father arrived home I didn't say anything to him about what I had found, and when he opened his laptop later that evening, he didn't act as if anything was different from how he left it. Even though I had a slightly different view of him, I didn't treat him any differently and we went along like normal.

That night in my room, I began reading the rest of his stories on the tiny screen of my phone. Initially it was out of sheer curiosity. For the time being, I ignored his other stories because I wanted to find out which situations he had used from my life and how often they appeared. Thankfully the site allowed them to be sorted by date because he was a prolific author. For nearly two years a story about the duo was posted at least once a month, and I chuckled at the fact that Burt was eighteen for nearly three years. Sometimes, like during the summer, stories appeared nearly every two weeks, other times it could be nearly six between postings. They were surprisingly well written for a man who spoke little. By the time Monday evening rolled around and I had my laptop cord back, I was stroking out loads to my dad's fiction. Reasoning that it was fiction, I had no reservations about getting off to them. The sex scenes were hot and rivaled some of the stories that I had marked as favorites by other authors.

After I moved away for college, I continued to occasionally read them, still having a number to get through. Aside from being turned on by them, away from home for the first time I found them a nice reminder of my family. In an unexpected way his stories helped ease the homesickness I felt while simultaneously serving as an outlet for pent up sexual frustration.

It wasn't until the middle of my fourth semester away that I caught up with him. I noticed that his use of Burt and Andy had slowed around the time I first moved away which helped me catch him. With the number of stories about us that had been posted, I wondered when he had time to have sex with my mom, which he also did often. Growing up I had heard various noises coming from their room almost nightly but it wasn't until I was a teenager that I realized what those sounds were. Bursts of stories were posted shortly after I had visits home, but like my visits, they were only every few months. Nevertheless, I followed him eagerly awaiting the next fictionalized recounting of events.

One evening, I received notification of a new story. During the middle of the semester with my last visit over two months ago, I expected it to be a random tale so I didn't immediately check it out. It was nearly a week later when I finally looked at his page and saw that it was a story about Burt and Andy. Burt had called home to chat with his family in the same way I had a few weeks prior. When Andy had his turn, he went out to his work shed to have the conversation as my dad had. However, unlike the general chat my dad and I had, Burt and Andy engaged in some phone sex. Needless to say I found it hot and, thankful my roommate was out, I began jerking off to it.

I was well engrossed in the fantasy of the story when a passage struck me. Andy let out a series of sounds on the phone that Burt asked with knowledge if his dad had shot his load. It was exactly the curse followed by grunt my dad had made while he was listening to me talk. There was then a sharp intake of breath preceding a soft sigh. I had asked if he was okay and he, in a breathless, shaky tone, said he had stubbed a toe on the leg of a work bench. I had dismissed it and continued my side of the conversation as his breathing returned to normal. It hit me now how obvious it was that he had been jerking off while on the phone with me. Not only did my father always wear work boots when he went out to the shed, because of the various sharp debris that lived on the floor he never would have been barefoot or otherwise have exposed his feet to injury in that way. This was the first time that I had any indication of him actually behaving sexually toward me and the information had all been there in plain sight yet I had not seen it. Even with all the stories culled from real life, none of them had ever made me question if he would act on his fantasies. None of his looks at me had lingered, hugs were as few and far between as ever, and even when I went home, he didn't treat me any differently than in the past. Now that was out of the window and I began to wonder how often he had done it and what other signs I had overlooked. Despite that, I found myself really turned on by knowing what had happened and shot one of the biggest loads I'd had in a while.

It wasn't until nearly a month after reading that story that I called home again, this time to coordinate my trip home for the summer. Don't mistake, there were random texts and emails between my family and me along with random calls between me and my siblings, but I rarely called the home phone to speak to everyone together. As before, my dad took the phone out to his workshop to talk to me. Until now, it wasn't an unusual move. Dad liked the quiet and privacy when he was on the phone. When my siblings and I were younger, he would usually just go into the bedroom or the garage to take calls, but as we got older, louder and generally more annoying, he escaped the house for the backyard or shed.

As I talked to him, I listened carefully to his breathing and responses to my college tales and questions. After a few minutes, I heard his breathing increase almost imperceptibly. My own dick got hard as I realized he was masturbating again. Trying to keep my voice even, I talked continually, not wanting to interrupt him by asking him questions. A part of me was weirded out knowing my dad was jerking off listening to me on the phone, but a larger part of me was turned on by it. As words, probably mostly meaningless, tumbled out of me, I listened to his breathing shift and change with his impending release. When it happened this time, there was only a slight catch in his breath followed by a soft, sustained exhalation. If I hadn't been listening for it, I probably wouldn't have heard it. When he interrupted me to ask me what the point was of everything that I had been saying, his voice was breathy. I stammered and couldn't come up with an explanation so we said goodbye and disconnected. My roommate gave me an odd look as I left the room. Needing privacy, I went to the restroom on the floor and hastily stroked out my own load.

Eight days later a new story was posted that I eagerly masturbated to.

When I arrived home, everything was mostly normal. The only thing that was different was me and my feelings toward my dad. He was no longer the disciplinarian and man to be feared, he was a hot, older guy that I needed to hook up with. I found myself eyeing him more, appreciating him in a way I hadn't before. With his muscular body and bright red hair that still wasn't showing signs of graying he reminded me of a rugged, square-jawed Viking warrior whose genes surely flowed heavily through his body. When we spent time around our pool, my eyes roamed over his furred body appreciating the decorative tattoos that seemed to be placed to enhance the swells and ripples of his tight muscles. But more than anything, my attention focused on the surprising mounds of his ass.

I had admired and been with some football players and runners in high school that had possessed some amazing glutes, but my dad's made them appear as if they were all in possession of the flattest asses ever. His ass was high and tight and surprisingly large. Looking at it, I was amazed that I had never noticed before how big and beautiful it was. While I had no illusions that I would ever stick my dick between the cheeks, I fantasized about being forced to bury my face between them, being smothered as he sat on me. I had often overheard my parents discussing his pants and now realized why he had trouble getting them to fit. His ass was larger than would be accommodated by anything in his waist size, and in the jeans he preferred to wear the fabric stretched almost indecently tight over it. However the way the front of his jeans filled out was patently obscene.

Until I arrived home that summer, I had never noticed the large bulge along the inside of his right thigh. Easily the size of my fist, it had worn the fabric white on some of his pants. And when he was in his sleep pants or shorts at night, I tried not to stare at the prominent display of his meat swinging when he walked or weighing down the fabric between his legs when he sat.

Despite still having people I could hook up with, I became even better acquainted with my fist that summer. In my room each night, I would stroke out at least one load thinking about my dad. It didn't help that nearly two weeks after I arrived home, he began posting new stories. Each centered on something we had done in the past few days. He wrote about sucking me off in the pool while everyone else had gone inside the house; how he helped me change the oil in my car then bent over the hood for me to fuck him as a thank-you; going with me and my younger brother to play paintball then having me fuck him while hidden in some dense brush while other players ran by completely unaware of us; even sneaking into a fitting room to give me a quick blow when we went shopping with my younger sister.

As I stroked my dick I was no longer just imagining doing the things he had written about but coming up with my own fantasies. In addition to rimming his beautifully large ass, I pictured myself on my knees servicing him while we watched a game or stroking each other under the spray of a shower. When I heard him having sex with my mom one night, I blew a fairly large load as I fingered myself envisioning being plowed by my dad.

It was because of this that I began messaging him on the site. For nearly two years I had already been leaving comments on the stories telling him how good and hot they were so it seemed like a natural thing to tell him through a private message. I made it known that I was the flip side of the coin: a young man who was interested in his father. I described myself without any specifics but compared myself to Burt and Andy, the average sized son of a muscular man who wanted nothing more than to be with my father in the most intimate way. It took a few tries before he responded and when he did so, it was initially hesitant. However, the more I shared my fantasies, the more he engaged with me. He enjoyed hearing about how I stroked my dick at night thinking about my dad, about how I admired and wanted to worship his large body, how I wanted to be on my knees sucking the huge cock that I knew resided in his shorts, and more than anything, how I wanted to be bred the same way he bred my mother. I wanted to feel the heat of his seed inside me and the lingering pain of a well-fucked ass when I sat next to my mother and siblings for dinner.

We formed a decent online friendship and began writing each other at least once a week. I would share with him some of my most salacious masturbatory fantasies and he would share with me thoughts and ideas that didn't make it into stories. They were things that proved that he wasn't just using our lives as fodder for fiction. Not only did he admit to jerking off while talking to me on the phone, he said he often swiped a pair of my dirty underwear and pleasured himself while sniffing them. There was no question now that he was truly hard for me and that made me even harder for him.

By the time I returned to school, my dad had become the focus of my solo sessions. I still went out on dates and hooked up with people, but when I was alone, it was just the two of us in my head. It didn't help that my fantasies were fueled by reading his messages when they came and the stories he posted over the next few months. There seemed to be more than there had been in the past but they were no less arousing. Also, I couldn't resist making a few more calls home than I normally would. They weren't always fruitful but I was well aware of when they were. And when I travelled home over the winter break, it seemed like my dick was hard during the entire journey in anticipation of seeing my father. I felt like I nearly gave myself away when he hugged me tight in greeting. My leg grazed across his seeking the bulge that resided between his legs, but just before making contact, we separated.