An American Granddad in London
There's nothing like the beginning of a new calendar year to motivate you and give you a fresh outlook on life. In my case, my biggest resolution for 2022 was: continue to work on my relationship with my son and help him figure out what he wants to do with his future. Callum was at a major crossroads now that he was 17, and I wanted him to know I would be here to help him out and support him no matter what he chose.
Even more invested in figuring out my son's future than me was my father. He kept going on and on about colleges and jobs for Callum, as if we had to decide any day now. Dad had a history of being overzealous like this; he had pushed my brothers and me when it came to our education and employment, and I guess now it was Callum's turn.
"I'm coming with you to London," my father announced to me suddenly, just as I was getting ready to leave San Francisco and return to England in the beginning of January. "I want you to find me an apartment I can rent for a few weeks."
"First of all, I'm not your assistant," I replied. I loved Dad, but he needed reminding on how to talk to other people every now and then. "Your secretary has my address, so she can find you something in the area. And secondly: why are you coming to London?"
"I've decided to reconnect with some businesspeople I know," Dad explained. "When Callum was here he said he might want to stay in England and go to college and get a job there. In case he does that, I wanna be able to get him into a nice company."
"You can always count on him getting a job on his own merits," I reminded Dad.
"Oh shush, spare me that idealistic crap. You and I both know the easiest way to get a foot through the door is through someone you know."
I couldn't argue with that.
"So when're you thinking of coming?" I asked.
"You're flying on Saturday, right? If there's any first-class tickets left for that flight, I'll be ready to go."
It took Dad's assistant just a few hours to get him a seat on my flight as well as find him a flat to rent in Soho. A few days later, he and I were in rainy London, walking around the hardwood-floored rental and admiring its impressive decor and furniture.
"Not bad," Dad nodded in approval. "I feel like a bachelor again."
Callum had asked to meet us at Heathrow when we land, but I insisted against it – it was already late at night. After making sure that my dad liked his new crib, I walked the one block to my own flat and went straight to sleep.
The following day was a Sunday, and Callum and I were invited to have dinner with my father at a Soho restaurant close to Dad's new flat. We sat next to a table of five 20-something-year-old women who were celebrating a birthday. Dad struck up a conversation and before long he was flirting with several of the girls at the table, and I just hoped none of them would become my third step-mother.
When we were done with the meal, Dad insisted on staying for a few drinks. After three scotches, he tried to invite one of the girls – the one with the largest boobs – over to his place, but I reminded him that tonight is probably not a good night for it. Callum was looking forward to going up and checking out his grandfather's new flat, and even I was looking forward to a guys' night without any disturbances (which is why I ignored the advances a couple of the girls were making at me).
During the walk to his apartment, Dad complained about us cock-blocking him, but he was still in good spirits. Callum oohed and aahed when he saw Dad's place, which was much more impressive than my own flat here.
"There's a bottle of whiskey on the counter in the kitchen, Son. Go pour us a couple glasses," I heard my dad say. I was just about to remind him that I wasn't his servant, when I realized he was addressing Callum. Without a complaint, my son headed to the kitchen and came back with three glasses of scotch on the rocks for us. We went to the living room and made ourselves comfortable: Dad and I on the couch, with Callum sitting on an armchair close to us.
"I should've gotten that girl's phone number," my father said, still thinking about the women at the restaurant. Holding his glass in his left hand, he let his right hand fall down into his lap. Once there, Dad gave his bulge a barely discernible squeeze.
"Dad, you're in Soho now, there's a ton of bars around here," I reminded him. "Don't worry, you'll meet tons of girls."
"But I was in the mood for a blowjob tonight," he said stubbornly, still rubbing his crotch next to me. "Until you two sabotaged me."
I just rolled my eyes. Most people might find my father's divulgences wildly inappropriate, but I was used to them by now. I just hoped they weren't making Callum uncomfortable.
My son was the next to chime in, and he surprised me by asking a question that seemed to have nothing to do with the current topic.
"Hey Grandpa, remember my birthday, when I came to visit you at your hotel?" Callum asked my dad.
"Yeees," my father replied, sounding almost… nervous, which was VERY unlike him. He still continued to discreetly rub his bulge, however, and I was wondering where all of this was headed.
"Well… that day, you said that maybe next time it happened we could invite Dad to join us," my son said mischievously, taking a rather large sip of his drink.
"Next time what happened?" I asked, feeling out of the loop. Callum looked me in the eyes and answered.
"You see… on my birthday… I sorta sucked Grandpa's cock."
The world seemed to stand still for a moment. I waited for one of them to start laughing, as if this were a joke. Maybe I shouldn't have felt as surprised as I did. After all, Callum had sucked my own cock (and I his); not to mention that I'd performed the very same action on my father. Perversion seemed to run in the family; I just didn't think Callum and Dad were engaging in it behind my back.
"On… on your birthday?" I stuttered. That was in October, four months ago.
"Yes. Sorry we didn't tell you earlier," my son apologized. "It's just, with all of the traveling back and forth that all of us do, it's hard to find a time when we're all together and we can talk about things like this."
Meanwhile, my father remained silent, barely moving except for his hand on his crotch.
"Now you know," he said to me matter-of-factly.
"Who… initiated it?" I asked, looking at Dad and then at Callum.
"I guess we both did," my son admitted. A part of me was concerned that he might've been roped into it by my father, until I realized my son was just as much of a horndog as my old man was.
Further proving his roguishness to me, Callum got up from his armchair, placed his drink down, and slowly walked toward my father. While doing that, my son maintained eye contact with me, as if gauging my reaction and daring me to say something. I was on the verge of asking "What're you doing?" but I decided to remain quiet and watch the events unfold.
My father was the next to put his glass down, after emptying it of everything but the ice in one swig. A moment later, my son was kneeling on the floor in front of my father, right next to me.
"You still in the mood for a blowjob tonight, Grandpa?" Callum asked, breaking eye contact with me to look up at his grandfather. While asking his question, my son placed his hand on Dad's bulge and took over, rubbing and stroking it.
"What's it seem like to you?" Dad said. We all looked down at his bulge; even though his jeans, I could spot my father's hard cock pulsing with arousal.
"I can't wait to get that in my mouth," my son said, licking his lips and making eye contact with me again. Indeed, it felt like Callum was speaking to me specifically; sharing with me how much he lusted after my dad's dick.
"Go for it," I found myself saying to my boy, encouraging him to suck my father's cock.
That's when all of the talking ended. Callum unzipped and unbuttoned my dad's jeans, pulling out the hard dick hiding in there. Dad and I looked at each other, and I was reminded of the few times I'd seen him get head from female strippers. Now, it was my son about to swallow Dad's dick, and the perversion of it all made me bone up as well.
I sat and I watched while Callum smirked at me one last time before parting his lips and gulping down Dad's dick like it was the world's tastiest lollipop. Within seconds, my own cock was growing from semi- to fully hard. I couldn't look away from what was going on in Dad's lap; but even if I did, the sounds Callum was making were so loud and vivid that they were impossible to ignore. We'd never switched the TV on or put on any music. The room was quiet other than the noise of my son slurping and swallowing. I'd tasted Dad's dick before, and I tried to imagine that same taste currently in Callum's mouth.
"C'mere and give me a kiss," I said to my son suddenly. He eagerly obeyed, getting up to give me a passionate kiss while still stroking his grandfather's cock without a break. As Callum and I exchanged saliva and as I sucked on his tongue, I could taste my father's cock on there.
We made out for a minute before Callum went back down to Dad's dick. As I saw my father's throbbing member go back inside my son's mouth, I knew I couldn't hold it in anymore: I unzipped my pants and took out my own hard cock, showing off my erection to two generations of my family.
"Looks like I'm not the only one in need of a blowjob on this couch," my dad said. He and Callum looked at each other and I saw my son grinning even with a mouthful of cock. Then, my son wrapped his left hand around my rod and began stroking it, still sucking off Dad and successfully multitasking.
With a loud sluuuurp a few minutes later, Callum took my dad's prick out of his mouth, scooted closer to me, and started sucking me instead while stroking my father. Like this, my son went back and forth for fifteen minutes. At times, I could see a string of saliva and precum connecting my cock with Dad's as Callum shifted between us. I compared our two boners, almost identical, except that Dad's balls were hairier than mine. I'd just shaved my sack recently, which made it even more sensitive when my son placed my nuts in his mouth to suck on like a pacifier.
"Fuck, I'm getting close, Son," Dad panted after a while, and I was unsure if he was talking to me or his grandson. Callum, who was at the time sucking my dick, quickly switched to my father. Dad spread his legs as wide as possible, jabbing my thigh with his knee. I could feel Dad's leg shaking: he was close. He was close to cumming. He was close to cumming right in my son's mouth. He was…
"AHHHH, FUCK, I'M CUMMING!" my father roared, shooting his load in his eldest grandchild's mouth. The scene almost made me shoot as well, even though nobody was even touching my cock. Miraculously, I managed to hold back, watching as my father emptied his nuts down Callum's throat.
After Dad was done cumming, Callum quickly came up for another kiss with me. Even though he'd swallowed my dad's jizz, I could still taste it in Callum's mouth as we kissed. I was on the precipice of shooting my load, and my son sensed it. Returning down between my legs, Callum took my tool in his mouth and let me do the same thing that my father just did: blow my load down his hungry, cocksucking throat.
With another loud sluuurp, my swimmers were down my son's gullet. Callum carefully polished my glans with his tongue, making sure he had cleaned off every last drop. Finally, he looked up at me and smiled, before turning to his granddad and saying,
"I'm really glad you came to London, Grandpa. I'm sure we'll have lots of fun."