I Like Him a Lot
I woke up in a daze. Why was it so bright out? Where was I? This didn't feel nor smell like my bed.
It slowly started to come back. I was at my dad's house. My real dad. Who I'd just met for the first time.
I looked down. My dick was rock hard. Not unusual first thing in the morning, but there was also a sticky stain on my stomach. I remembered. I had cum in the middle of the night, I had a wet dream. About... my dad?
That couldn't have been it, I thought in panic! I was probably misremembering. Dreams could be so vague, anyways. But this one wasn't vague. It was Dad, coming out of the pool, dripping wet. Just like he had in real life the day before. His impeccable muscles glistening in the sun.
Then I remembered what he'd said to me in my dream. "I can help you look like this."
Yes, that must be it. I wasn't turned on by my DAD! I was turned on by the idea of looking like him. Yeah, that's gotta be it. I was gonna start college in a couple of months. I'll go from being the dopey gay kid at school to a bona fide jock. That's why I'd cum in the middle of the night, that's what turned me on. Right?
I put on a pair of shorts that failed to hide my erection. I opened the door carefully and peeked out. There was no one there, and the bathroom was only a few feet away. I creeped to it like a burglar.
Everything felt better as soon as I was under the shower. The warm water felt amazing, and the shower was so much nicer than the one I shared with my siblings at Mom's house. The shower gel filled the room with a pleasant aroma. I wasn't sure what it was, the bottle was only in French; but I closed my eyes and enjoyed myself, taking three times longer to shower than I normally did.
"Ben?!" I yelled out for him in the kitchen after I'd gotten dressed. (Then I remembered. "Call me Dad," he'd said yesterday.)
"Dad?!" I yelled out again, checking the backyard. It was still morning, but the sun was shining like it was high moon.
"where r u?" I texted from my phone.
"Downstairs," he texted back, followed by a wink emoji.
I went downstairs slowly, as if this were a horror movie. There were only two doors there. The one on the right was locked. There was music blasting from the door on the left.
I opened it and was hit by a blast of loud music and bright lights. It was Dad's gym, and it looked every bit as professional as a proper gym. There were floor-to-ceiling mirrors on two of the walls, and the floor was covered by a soft mat. There were multiple pieces of equipment, that I didn't even know how to use.
"You're not wearing shoes, are you?" Dad yelled over the loud rap music.
"N-no," I stuttered when I saw him, and looked down to my bare feet.
"Okay," he walked to his phone and turned down the volume. "Please no outside shoes here. We'll get you a pair of clean sneakers."
He wasn't wearing much more than a pair of sneakers himself. He was shirtless, with so much sweat dripping down his body he looked like he was just out the pool again. He wore a pair of navy blue shorts, tighter and shorter than most underwear I owned. I recognized the logo on the front. It was a gay brand whose main marketing strategy was "sexy." The shorts accentuated his big butt and bulge in the front. I wondered if he was wearing underwear underneath. ("Why are you wondering that?" a voice in my mind said.)
"Did you just get up?" he asked.
"Y-yeah. This place look great!"
"Thanks. It's the first room in the house that was finished."
I looked around at all the equipment, then walked to a doorway I'd noticed.
"Why do you need your own locker room?!" I asked.
Behind the doorway, there was a small room with three shower heads, a bench with some clothes and towels on it, and even a few lockers.
"Ha!" Dad laughed. "No real reason. I just like not having to walk upstairs all sweaty. Sometimes I like to take a real quick shower then continue working out. Plus, I've always liked locker rooms, I miss that about public gyms."
It was weird to hear that. As a gay kid in high school, locker rooms were my biggest nightmare.
"Care to join me for a workout?" he asked. "We said we start training today."
I looked down. I was wearing basketball shorts and a loose T-shirt. "Sure," I said.
We didn't do too much that first day. Dad had me jog in place and do some stretches to warm up. He then showed me how to lift weights. What's there to show, I thought, you just pick em up and go up and down. Turns out, there was this whole science about inhaling and exhaling and the degree at which you're holding them. When he started using the Latin names for all the muscles, I had to interrupt him and ask him to not go into too much detail.
During the workout, I was too focused on what I was doing to pay attention to too much else. Every now and then, though, I couldn't help but notice his near-naked body. As amazing as his muscles looked normally, while he was working out and lifting and flexing, they looked out of this world! He occasionally used a towel to dry his face, and another for his sweaty torso and armpits.
As Dad spoke, I tried not to stare at his body and focus on what he was saying and make a mental note of all the tips he was giving me. I was always a competitive student, and if I was gonna do this I wanted to do it right. My mom and step-dad had probably never stepped foot in a gym their whole adult lives, but Dad was completely different. The music that blasted helped me keep up my pace, but I almost blushed when I payed attention to some of the lyrics. As liberal as Mom was, she'd never let me play this at home. Dad sang out loud to some of it.
"Excellent job, son!" Dad said when we were done, and gave me a surprise hug. His sweaty chest stuck to my shirt as we hugged, and he patted me on the back.
"Sorry, I'm all sweaty," he said. "But you did great."
"Thanks," I said. Thankfully I was already red in the face from working out so I didn't have to worry about blushing.
"I'm gonna grab a quick shower," he said and headed to the "locker room."
I checked my phone and got caught up in some of the notifications before heading upstairs. Then I heard a question directed at me.
"You wanna shower as well?"
"Uhhhh--" I stumbled. Was he suggesting I take a shower down here with him? The three shower heads were just that; there were no dividers or curtains of any kind.
"Um, sure," I said, "I was just thinking if I should have one upstairs."
"As you wish," I heard him say over the sound of running water, "you can also take one here."
I slowly walked to the doorway, almost hypnotized by the sound of water. My bare feet made no noise as I stepped on the mat. When I got to the door, I looked in.
My father was completely naked, with his back turned to the door, in the middle shower. His eyes were closed as he washed his hair. Shampoo was running down his back and to his asscheeks, which he so proudly showed off on his Instagram. Fuck, his ass was perfect! His thighs were thick, and the perky cheeks looked like two scoops of ice cream on top of a cone.
"I just realized there's no clean towel for you down here," he said. "If you wanna take a shower here you need to bring one. I'll leave some in one of the lockers for future use."
Fuck, I didn't even realize he knew I was here! Did he know I was staring at him? As he finished that last sentence, he turned around to look at me, and it took all my self-control not to start mumbling like an idiot.
Truth is, I'd only seen a couple of dicks in real life before. True, I'd seen hundreds in porn, but that didn't really count. Then again, this scene was straight out of a porn as well. The gorgeous man with an amazing body, showering as shampoo ran down the ridges of his incredible muscles. And then there was his dick...
His pubic area seemed to be shaved smooth, or at least trimmed really short. But it was hard to pay attention to his pubes considering what hung beneath them. His dick, although not extremely thick, was very long, and swung left and right like a pendulum at the slightest movement. He was cut; the head pink end much thicker than the rest, standing out.
"I-I– I think I'm just gonna shower upstairs," I said. I needed to get the fuck out of here before he noticed I was getting hard in my shorts.
"Okay," Dad replied and winked at me before turning around again.
"Got photos of his bulge and everything..."
"Yeah. I'm surprised the profile hasn't been pulled."
"Does he look like this in real life?"
"Well you know Instagram, it's all angles and filters. But in person... Yeah, he actually does look just as good."
The first night my son spent at my house, he wanted to go to bed early. I couldn't blame him, I can only imagine how he felt after we finally got to meet. I walked to his room to make sure he didn't need anything else, and heard him talking with a friend on speakerphone. I wanted to give my son his privacy, but I realized they were talking about me so my curiosity got the best of me.
"I would cum in my pants as soon as I saw him, I don't care if he's my dad," my son's friend said.
"What're you gonna do now?"
"Well, I guess I'll go and get to know him."
I smiled on the other side of the door when I heard Sam say that.
"Oh, I'd get to know him," his friend continued. "I'd get to know him very well."
"Lamar! You're fucking gross, dude. We get it, he's hot. It's still my dad we're talking about."
"Aight aight. I'll try to control myself. But you gotta admit he's crazy hot."
"Yes, he's very sexy. And handsome, and interesting as well. So far I... I like him a lot."
Tears built in my eyes as I heard that, and I walked away from the door.