It was the summer after I finished high school, just a few months after turning 18. I was home, waiting to go to university in the city after the summer break at the end of the year. My mum was away on a holiday with her sisters and my older sister, Jessica. My eldest sibling - my brother Rory - had finished university and now lived in the city with his girlfriend, coming down twice a year, one of them being Christmas which was coming up, where we all come together and go visit my grandfather, along with the rest of my Dad's siblings. My Mum was gone for two weeks, until halfway through December, and my sister planned on visiting her friends in the city after the holiday, then coming down a week before Christmas, followed by Rory and his girlfriend a day before Christmas. This left me alone with my father for two weeks, today of which was the first day.
I was the smallest male in my family, all my uncles and cousins stood at least a foot taller than me. The women were my height or taller, and my slender, smooth, hourglass-shaped body didn't help the comparisons made about my more feminine figure from people in my life. The men of my family, of which I was, but felt I wasn't, were all big, burly, hairy men oozing masculinity. It was not uncommon for the men of the family to gather around a car at gatherings with the hood open, talking all day about engines and strokes, whatever those were, while they drank beer that tasted like shit.
Contrasting that, I liked books, and music that evoked emotion in me, and the only alcohol I drank were what was considered women's drinks, fruity cocktails and the like. I had long, dark hair like my mother, and looked after it, displaying my meticulously cared for curls proudly. Engines and the like were something I knew nothing about, so I often found myself hanging out with the women in my family for conversation I could understand.
To their credit, no one in my family teased me about my lack of masculinity, and the affinity for the women in my life. I was accepted for who I was, despite not fitting in as a traditional male. A place was made for me either side of the coin I chose to go to, and the men happily explained the things about football, cars, and joked with me like I was one of them without missing a beat. But I always felt like an imposter, and when they thought I wasn't looking, I saw them exchanging glances like they were all in on a joke I didn't know I was the butt of.
That was going to change this summer, but I didn't know that. My secret was about to be revealed, and everyone was going to show me just who I truly was.
You see, I was hiding something from everyone in my life. It weighed me down, begging to be released, for the burden to be lifted, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I was bisexual, and I had been in-denial about it for a few years, and only came to terms with it recently. Like a dam that had just been unblocked, all the pent-up frustration and lust came rushing forth at once, and I found myself masturbating several times a day and still finding myself horny, consumed with the lust for men I now acknowledged.
I bought a dildo, and learned how to use it on myself, finding I quite enjoy the sensation of something inside my ass, the thicker the better. I practiced sucking it, learning how to manage my gag reflex and work the length down my throat without struggle. I couldn't stay hard once something was in my ass, but it was still enjoyable when it rubbed against my prostate; I leaked precum like crazy when I had something in my ass.
I was pretty sure I wanted to be a bottom for men, but in my small, rural town, options were slim and it was impossible to find someone without word spreading in town about my sexuality. It wasn't an option I could take right now, but university meant a new location in the city, and was definitely feasible in the future. I've admired my ass in the mirror before, and knew it wouldn't be hard to find a flexible guy willing to fuck the firm, thick ass I inherited from my mother.
One thing I didn't know at the time was the fact that I wasn't the only one hiding something. My family had been hiding something from me my whole life, all of them, and today was the day the truth was going to begin to come out.
I was walking down the hallway to the kitchen around 9pm at night, fetching a glass of water in-between matches of Overwatch (Ana main thank you very much) in my room when I heard the shower running, and noticed the bathroom door was left ajar by a small margin. The shower was on the side the door swung away from, so the shower, and who was in it, was the first thing that you saw when you opened it to your right. The bar for the shower curtain had broken off when I was a kid -- thanks to my brother, who hung off it like a monkey -- and instead of replacing the bar so we could have a curtain, my parents installed a lock on the door instead for privacy. It wasn't like my parents to leave it unlocked, or ajar when in the shower, though. I paused in the hallway, temptation in front of me. I knew it had to be my Dad inside, and he would be naked.
Bisexuality wasn't the only secret. Since I accepted it, that sexual energy had found an outlet -- or a fixation -- on certain men in my life, one of them being my father. My father, I had to admit, was an attractive man, and he certainly was a man in every sense I was not. Tanned, with the thick build of a man who spent a lifetime as a labourer, standing at 6'2 compared to my 5'6, my father was a man that drew the attention of women -- and gay men -- wherever he went. His hair was sandy and often tousled in a way that looked like he had just woken up and rolled out of bed, but still looked great with minimal effort. He was handsome -- handsome enough to have done modelling when he was my age -- and his looks had only aged like fine wine as he got older. A well-kempt brown beard framed his lower face, streaked with grey now in his 50's, but instead of making him look old, it made him looked distinguished and wise.
He had a hairy chest, with big pecs that clearly popped through the shirts he wore. He had a snail trail that I wanted to follow downwards like a path of candy leading to a reward. His butt was bubbly and perfect -- not as large as my own, but notably large for a guy. I often found myself salivating thinking about burying my face between it. His thighs were thick enough with muscle that he could squeeze a watermelon hard enough into splitting, something I knew for a fact with my own eyes.
It was all these elements I took into consideration when I paused outside the bathroom door, in turmoil over the opportunity presented to me. I could feel my cock slowly getting harder with excitement, and decided my father wouldn't know if I took a peek, right? I crept closer to the door, pressing my face against the small gap, but taking care to not push the door further open. It took a second of squinting, but when I saw him, a jolt ran down my cock.
My father was standing under the showerhead, soaping up his hairy armpits, his side to me, water running down his body like Adonis in a fountain. I could see his bush clearly, and the impressive length that dangled there. My eyes widened, my cock tenting in my shorts. I pulled it out, slowly rubbing my glans with my thumb, electricity tingling across the head of my cock. At full mast, my cock, which stood at 5 inches erect, was dwarfed by my father's flaccid length by at least an inch. I gazed at it, etching every vein and line of the perfect, sexy cock into my mind. No wonder my mum has trouble staying quiet at night, I think to myself. I don't think I could keep quiet with that inside me!
My father's hand drops with the soap, and he begins to run it over his crotch, rubbing his cock with soapy hands to spread the suds. His eyes were shut, and his mouth was slightly open. The water washed the soap away, his hands didn't cease their motion. I saw his cock slowly hardening, then I saw something I never thought I'd see my father do. He reached up, sticking a thick, long finger in his mouth. When it came out it was slathered in spit, and I watched with increasing arousal as my father's hand slipped around behind him. I couldn't see between those delicious cheeks - which were finely accented with a grazing of light blonde hair - from the angle he was at, but I saw that finger disappear between them, then go even deeper into as he entered himself. Unlike me, his cock didn't soften, but got even harder. I'd swear it gained a little bit of length. It was almost as thick as my forearm now, a fact that I noticed with giddiness.
I followed my father's lead, sucking on my index finger, getting it wet and ready. My fingers were long like my father's, but slender instead of thick. With my free hand, I slipped the shorts I was wearing past my ass, where they fell at my feet. I didn't wear underwear at home, so I was standing there naked from the waist down. I pulled the finger out of my mouth, dripping with saliva, and reached around to my hole, where it slid in with practiced ease, both knuckles disappearing inside without a problem. I felt the finger enter me, and my cock immediately began to soften like I was only good for taking cock, not giving it, but I still tugged on it anyway, knowing from experience I'll still enjoy it and cum just fine.
I rub at my prostate, eyes closing in pleasure. I don't need to see my father with my eyes anymore, I see him in my mind, every perfect piece of his body as he pleasures his hole and cock. Still, I take peeks, just to make sure he's still doing the same thing as he was before. When he takes his finger out of his hole, I find myself disappointed, but my cock stirs futilely as I watch him stick it, and his middle finger, back in his mouth. He cleaned his ass off his finger and wet both of them in the process, then his hand returned to his ass and I saw both fingers disappear in-between his cheeks and go deeper as they entered his ass.
Not one to be outdone by my own father -- owning several dildos now, including a big, black mamba that was as thick as my wrist, my hole was a well-seasoned slut at being stretched, except in the case of real cock -- I pulled my finger out of my ass, sticking it in my mouth with my middle finger. The faint salt taste of sweat and the always-weird taste of my own saliva entered my mouth. I sucked on my fingers greedily, not realising how much noise I was making in the progress. My eyes were closed again. With a pop, I pulled both fingers out of my mouth and reached back around. I could feel my hole lightly stretching to accommodate the second finger, then loosen up like it was sentient and knew it was time to be fucked. I dug around in my ass like I was searching for lost treasure, making that come hither motion against my prostate, my toes curling and flexing as I lost myself to the sensation of my prostate being stimulated with one hand, as I jerked off my flaccid dripping cock with the other.
I felt my orgasm approaching, keeping my fingers in my ass until the last second, when I was about to bust. I pulled them about, cupping my hand in front of my cock as I shot one of the biggest loads I ever shot into my hand. Rope after rope I emptied into it, sweat breaking out on my skin from the intense waves of the orgasm. My eyes were squeezed shut, and I didn't dare breathe until it was over. I felt my cock spurt one last time, a large mass of thick, warm gooey mess sitting in my hand, and opened my eyes.
Shit.
The door was fully opened, with my Dad standing there in front of me, a towel wrapped around his waist, and there I stood, shorts on the ground, flaccid, inferior cock -- it'd be inaccurate to say it was dangling -- with a drop of cum oozing out of the head, trying to stand at attention, hand full of the massive milky load it had just spent right in front of him. I felt myself seize up in shock, and a deer in the headlights look appear on my face. I hadn't heard the shower stop.
"Uh-" I stammer out, but my Dad raises his finger to my lips, halting me before I can speak. He reaches down to my cock, collecting the drop of cum on the tip of his finger that was in his ass just a few minutes before, and sticks it in my mouth, which I opened without thinking as his finger approached. I'd tasted my own cum before, of course. I disliked the earthy mustiness of the salty flavour at first, but I kept at it, wanting to become a cum lover because it felt so dirty and slutty, and so currently I felt neutral about eating my cum. Sometimes I came into a shot glass and drank it, other times into a tissue and threw it in my bin.
I didn't feel neutral about it this time. I loved it when my Dad fed that drop of cum to me. It was the hottest thing to ever happen to me so far in my life. A cheeky smile appeared on my dad's face, which was quickly replaced by a look that said he was not impressed with me.
