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Sharing Dad's Bed

Category:  FATHER-SON 


    "Mum, how does this look?"

    "You look fine, Callum. You're not having dinner with the Queen."

    "I know, but... I want to look good for tonight. So this is okay?"

    "You look very dapper, darling."

    I was wearing a two-piece suit and tie I'd got for my cousin's wedding last year. I'd outgrown it by a couple of inches since – leaving my wrists and ankles exposed – but other than that it didn't look too bad, even though it was a cheap Primark suit. I felt... handsome. I smiled while I looked at myself in the mirror and smoothed out all the creases.

    "Are you sure you don't want to come tonight, Mum?"

    "Do you want me to come? 'Cause I told you all along, it's up to you. You said you'd prefer to go on your own."

    "Yeah, you're right. I... I think it's better I do it by myself. Okay, I think I'll get going."

    I gave my mum a hug and a kiss, and I was off. Off to celebrate.

    Two weeks ago, I got a text message from Dad: "The test results are in. We need to talk."

    I started to sweat as I reread it over and over again. It sounded so... ominous. Why couldn't he just say it?! Is he my father?! YES or NO. Don't even need to type it, just send an emoji. ✅ or ❌?

    Instead, I had to go through an agonisingly long commute to Soho to meet him in person at a coffee shop. 

    "Well," he said after we'd sat down, sounding uncomfortably somber, "it is as we suspected."

    And then, finally, he cracked a smile.

    "I am indeed your biological father."

    I surprised myself by getting up and walking around the table to give him a hug. It was such an impulsive gesture, I wasn't even aware that I was doing it. Dad hugged me back tightly, and before I knew it there were tears rolling down my cheeks.

    "There, there," Dad rubbed my back. "We always said the test was a pure formality, but it's still such an emotional moment, isn't it?"

    After a couple of minutes of crying and hugging, I finally pulled myself together, realising that I was in public and starting to feel embarrassed. I went back around the table and sat down, taking a sip out my coffee cup mostly as an excuse to hide my face behind it.

    "Now, I had an idea," Dad said. (Finally, I could call him "Dad" without a shadow of a doubt.) "You know that it's Thanksgiving in two weeks?"

    "Yes," I lied. I knew it was around this time of year, but I had no idea when exactly.

    "Normally, we have Thanksgiving at my father's house in San Francisco. And this year, I'd invite you to come, but you don't get the time off school here. So I figured, why don't I ask my dad and my brother to come here instead? And we can have Thanksgiving dinner at my apartment, all of us. With you. If you'd like that, that is."

    "I'd love that," I replied quickly, feeling slightly overwhelmed. I'd just received confirmation that Josh was my dad, and now I'd be meeting the rest of his family. The rest of MY family...

    Just like I'd done on Halloween, I checked myself out in the glass door of my dad's building before going up to his flat for Thanksgiving dinner. The first thought that came to my mind when Dad answered the door was: I am WAY too overdressed.

    Dad was wearing a plain white T, white socks, and a fairly tacky-looking pair of sweatpants with little Christmas trees all over them.

    "You made it!" he smiled ear-to-ear when he saw me. "Come on in."

    We hugged and I entered the flat. There, I saw an older man and a teenage boy, both of them wearing sweats identical to the ones Dad had on. 

    "Callum, I'd like you to meet my dad... your grandfather, Ron," Dad made the introductions. "And this is my youngest brother... your uncle, I guess, Blake. My other brother Kris sends his regards, but he couldn't be here. He's spending Thanksgiving with his fiancée's family in California."

    I shook hands with Ron first. My grandfather. In a way, this felt even weirder than meeting Dad. My new granddad had silver hair and a very stern face, making him look like some sort of Bond villain; which in combination with the goofy sweatpants he had on looked very... interesting.

    It wasn't any less weird shaking hands with my "uncle." I don't know if I could ever get used to calling Blake that. Later I learned that he was only one month older than me. We were pretty much the same height, and shaking hands with him made me feel like I'm in school, meeting a new student or something. Either way, I was very happy to have someone my age here, to take away from the intimidating aura my granddad was radiating.

    "You look very... formal," my grandfather said, eyeing me up and down.

    "Yeah, I thought Thanksgiving was kind of... an official affair," I stuttered stupidly.

    "Nonsense," Dad chimed in. "The only dress code is the stretchiest sweatpants you can find."

    Just as I started to feel really silly, my grandfather did something I wasn't expecting: he pulled out a gift bag and handed it to me.

    "These are for you," he said. I looked inside the bag and saw the same Christmas-tree-patterned fabric. 

    "Some families do ugly Christmas sweaters, we do ugly Christmas sweatpants," my father filled me in. "Dad gets them for everyone and gives them out on Thanksgiving. And they always match."

    "That's... kind of adorable," I said, accepting the bag from my granddad.

    "Hear that, son? I'm adorable," he said to my dad, before turning to me. "I didn't know what size you wear so I got you a couple of different ones." Maybe he wasn't such a villain after all.

    "You can change in my room if you want," Dad told me. "And feel free to raid my closet for a comfy T-shirt you can wear."

    "Thank you," I said, feeling overwhelmed again. With the matching clothes, it really felt like I was being initiated into the family. Almost like joining some sort of fraternity.

    I walked to Dad's room, feeling slightly surreal. The last time I was here was on Halloween, after he'd walked in on me sucking his neighbour's cock. Now here I was raiding his closet and looking for something to wear so we could have dinner with my granddad and uncle? Life really comes at you fast sometimes.

    I found a T-shirt with the Stanford logo on it, which is where I knew my dad went to uni. I took my suit off and put on the T-shirt before giving myself a hug. It felt... nice, to be wearing something that belonged to Dad. That smelled like him. Going through his closet was too tempting, so I continued to do it. And next, I walked to the dresser and started going through something even more interesting: the drawers full of Dad's socks and underwear. 

    I'd never lived with another man, so all of the boy's things around the flat were always mine. I was a nosy kid, so I rummaged through my mother's stuff at times, which is what most kids do, I'm sure. So now, it felt fitting to be going through a man's stuff, and not just any man, but my father. I smiled as I ran my fingers through his underwear. On top of the neat pile was the red pair of boxer briefs that "Cat" had helped him pick out.

    Dad and Cat hadn't been talking too much over the past couple of weeks. Dad was busy with work, and I was starting to feel guilty about catfishing him, especially now that I knew he was definitely my father. Still, I couldn't give up my identity as Cat. It had given me access to parts of my dad's life that I would never know otherwise. Just last night, he'd sent Cat another sexy pic of his boner leaking precum in a pair of tight black briefs. If I closed my eyes, I could still see it right in front of me...

    "Callum! Are you ready?!"

    "Coming!" I shouted back in response to Dad's question coming from the dining room. I closed all the drawers leaving no evidence of my snooping, I pulled on the festive sweats my granddad brought me, and I was ready for dinner. On my way out, I noticed a pair of underwear lying discarded on the floor next to my dad's bed. They were the black briefs he wore last night. 

    Throughout Thanksgiving dinner, I felt like I was in some American film. Everything looked like I'd seen it on TV. I was impressed that Dad had managed to find all the ingredients here, until he said dinner was catered by a company that specialised in that sort of thing here. Apparently, there was more of an interest for Thanksgiving in London than I'd realised.

    The conversation flowed effortlessly. I'd discovered that my grandfather's favourite thing to do was complain about everything, but at least he cracked a few good jokes in between. Blake seemed shy at first (that was usually MY role) but pretty soon he opened up and I had fun talking about school and travelling with him.

    As soon as we were done with the pumpkin pie, I just wanted to do one thing: pass out! I started to yawn uncontrollably, leading Dad and his father to argue whether turkey really makes you sleepy or if that was just an urban myth.

    "You can sleep over if you want," Dad said, completely out of the blue.

    "Really?" I asked.

    "Sure. I can wake you up early and get you an Uber to drive you to your mom's place before you go to school."

    I looked around the table. Even though we'd eaten until we couldn't eat any more, there was still so much food left. Dad and Granddad were drinking scotch, and they'd allowed Blake and me to have some wine. We all had a satisfied glow on our faces. In our matching outfits we really... we really looked like a family.

    "I'd like that. To sleep over. Thanks," I said, feeling slightly tipsy from the wine.

    Even though it was a holiday up in this room, that wasn't the case with the rest of Soho. Downstairs, the streets were packed with people out for their Thursday-night bender, getting a head start on the weekend. Blake said he wanted to go down for a walk, and Dad and Granddad said they'd join him. I was invited along, but remembering the underwear by Dad's bed, I got a different idea.

    "No, you go," I said, letting out a yawn. "I think I'll go to bed, if that's okay."

    "Of course," said Dad. "My father and Blake are sleeping in the guest room, so you'll be sleeping with me, if you don't mind."

    "Not at all," I tried to sound casual, while freaking out internally.

    Before heading out, Dad gave me an unused toothbrush and I got ready for bed. A few minutes later, the three of them were out and I found myself alone in the flat.

    I walked to my dad's bedroom, going straight for the underwear I knew he had on last night. I picked up the briefs and lay in bed, where I could smell my father's body as if he were next to me. Ever since he and Cat started sexting, I'd been jerking off to sexy messages and photos and videos of him, but that was all on my screen. Now, I held an actual item he wore, a pair of underwear which still had his precum stain from last night.

    I closed my eyes and put the briefs against my face, taking a large whiff. With my eyes closed, my sense of smell intensified. I smelled Dad's underwear for a while before turning around and burying my face in his pillow, taking another sniff. I tossed and turned, still wearing the sweats my granddad got me. Inside of them, my cock was now rock hard. I reached in and started stroking myself, my other hand holding up Dad's briefs against my face again. They were ripe; I could smell him as if he'd just taken them off minutes ago. 

    I thought back to seeing my dad's cock at the urinal on my birthday, and every time I'd seen a photo of it ever since. "This is the smell it produced," I thought as I inhaled more of the aroma left over on the briefs. I stroked my own dick faster and faster, imagining Dad's body in this very bed next to me. In a short while, he'd be back and we'll spend the night together for the first time. Maybe it was just an innocent affair for him, a father and son sharing a bed out of necessity; but for me it was so much more.

    My whole body spasmed with pleasure. I gripped my cock tighter and continued stroking it. I started kissing Dad's underwear, before opening my mouth and shoving the briefs in it.

    "Mmm. Mmmpf!" I couldn't help it. Tasting my father's worn underwear pushed me over the edge and I started to shoot out the biggest load I'd ever shot, reaching all the way to my face. "MMM! MMM!" I just couldn't stop. Some of the cum was getting on the sheets, but I was too horny to care. I continued to fuck my fist, cum still splashing on my belly, chest and face. 

    "Wow!" I finally took a deep breath when I was done, taking the briefs out of my mouth. "Shit!" I noticed the briefs were now soaked in cum and saliva. I never thought I'd cum so much that it would actually hit my face. 

    I got up and walked to the bathroom, where I washed up. For a second, I considered running the briefs under some hot water, but then they would still be wet when Dad got back and he might notice. The damage was already done. The best thing I could do was leave them back on the floor by the bed and hope he doesn't pick them up until morning, when they would be dry again.

    So that's precisely what I did, right before lying back in bed and falling asleep with my stomach full and my balls empty.



    Walking through Soho on a Thursday night with my dad and Blake, all of us in our ridiculous matching sweatpants, gave us plenty of thumbs-up and wolf-whistles from drunk passers-by. Blake, who was gay, particularly enjoyed walking by all the gay sex shops in the area, with their shameless displays of dildos and mouth gags in the windows.

    Back at the flat, my little brother went straight to bed, and Dad and I had one final scotch in the living room.

    "Nice kid," he said, and I knew he was talking about Callum, who was asleep in my bed.

    "He is," I agreed.

    "So what's next?" Dad asked.

    "I don't think there are too many options. As far as Callum is concerned, he has to stay put. He's still in high school, or secondary school, or whatever they call it here. So he's stuck in London for the next year and a half. And as for me... I can go or I can stay."

    "And I gather from your tone you're planning on staying?"

    "Isn't that what you would do, Dad?"

    He never answered my question. Instead, he came up with one of his own.

    "Why don't you invite him over for Christmas? You could stay at my house. If his mom lets him, and if he wants to come."

    I smiled.

    "Yeah, thanks Dad. I'll bring it up."

    "Just don't let him catch you jerking off on video," Dad said, leaving the scotch glass on the table and getting up to go to the guest bedroom.

    "Dad, how long are you gonna keep it up with these jokes?" I shook my head.

    "Until the day you bury my dead body in the ground. And then I'll come back to haunt you and continue making them."

    "Great. Looking forward to it," I finished off my own drink and went to my room.

    In the bedroom, Callum was already sleeping in my bed, wearing the sweatpants Dad gave him and no shirt. I usually slept naked but I figured I'd at least leave my underwear on, considering I was sharing my bed with my son. Feeling slightly tipsy, I climbed in trying not to wake up Callum, and went straight to sleep.

    But that didn't last long. A couple of hours later, I woke up in the middle of the night with a raging boner in my underwear. I knew I had to take care of it, otherwise I wouldn't be able to fall back asleep.

    What I disliked more than anything about this apartment was how cold it got at night. Keeping the heat on all night made the room too stuffy, so I kept it cool instead. But now that I was up in the middle of the night, I couldn't get myself to get out of bed and go jerk off in the cold bathroom. My bed was too damn comfy, and my cock required immediate attention. But I couldn't do it here right next to my boy! Could I?

     I thought about it for a second, and my drunk brain kinda got off on the idea. Callum looked exhausted earlier; I was sure he wouldn't wake up easily. And I could be stealthy when I wanted to be. All I needed was something to clean up the mess with after I cum. Just then, I noticed the briefs I wore yesterday. They were lying on the floor, right next to my bed. Carefully I reached over, intending to use them as a cum rag. But when I took them in my hand, I noticed something unusual. They felt wet and sticky.

    "That fucker! Callum must've used them as a cum rag himself," I concluded silently. My boy must've gotten in bed, felt horny, and rubbed one off. Then when he needed to clean up after himself, he used whatever was closest, getting the same exact idea as I did. Like father, like son.

    That must be it! There was no other explanation. No one else had been in my room today. Even though it was dark and I couldn't see, the sticky wetness on the briefs sure felt like cum. Callum just kept surprising me! At first I thought he was rather shy, but look at the things he gets up to. Sucking a stranger's cock in my bathroom during a party. Using my underwear as a jizz rag. Me, his own father! A devilish grin appeared on my face. Except for my interest in girls, I was just like my son when I was his age; just as horny and careless, getting up to all sorts of shit. Granted, not that it was any different now that I'm an adult.

    Sliding one hand under the cover and inside the underwear I was wearing, I wrapped my fist around my throbbing cock. I felt it pulsing in my hand, leaking precum. I looked to my right and saw my teenage son sleeping right next to me. My son, who was proving to be just as much of a perv as his old man.

    Amused and turned on by my own naughtiness, I started to jerk off as subtly as I could. I was so horny, it didn't take me a lot. Just the slightest stroking movement against my cock brought me close to the edge. Every now and then, I'd stop stroking and I'd listen to hear if Callum was stirring. I could hear him breathing and it brought me back to all the inappropriate places I'd jerked off before. Sitting on a crowded train, in my seat during a flight, under my coat in church. There were too many occasions like that to keep track of; I'd mastered the skill of doing it discreetly by now. Every time I got away with it, it only encouraged me to try something even more extreme next time. Now, lying in bed next to my son who I'd just meet a couple of months ago, might be the most extreme of those occasions yet.

    "Mmm. Ahhh," I started to moan out ever so softly, even though I knew I shouldn't. This felt SO GOOD and so exciting that I just couldn't help myself. I was already thinking of the cum I'd be shooting out, and how much I liked the taste of my own jizz. And then, I got an idea...

    Still holding yesterday's briefs in my other hand, I realized they were soiled with Callum's jizz. My son's jizz... I wonder if it tastes anything like mine...

    In a moment of drunk, uncontrolled horniness, I put the underwear in my mouth and started sucking on it. I sucked the cum right off the fabric and felt it going down my throat. There wasn't too much of it I could get, but it was enough for me to feel the taste. It answered my question. My son's cum did taste very similar to mine.

    "Mmm, FUCK!" I moaned out louder than intended as I started shooting my latest load under the cover. Callum was stirring next to me but I couldn't stop, not now. I kept going, squeezing my cock tightly and feeling myself unload. Fuck, this felt good! I continued sucking on the briefs in my mouth, getting every drop I could off there. 

    Then, just as I was finished blowing my load, I took the briefs out my mouth, slipped them under the cover, and used them to wipe off my fresh load. Next, I brought them back up to my mouth and fed myself my cum, feeling it mix with my son's on the fabric of the briefs. 

    "I am one sick fuck," I thought to myself a moment later, smiling. My orgasm was over; the briefs were back on the floor. And I was back asleep next to my son, both of us dozing peacefully after having blown our loads. 

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