We Have the Same Taste in Underwear
I tried not to get my hopes up too high before meeting my son. I had to be ready in case he didn't even like me and wanted nothing to do with me. After all, I'd been acting like I wanted nothing to do with him for 18 years.
Although that wasn't exactly the case, it was surprisingly easy to forget I even had a child most of the time. His mom and I grew up in a boring town, we were together mostly because there was no one else interesting to date. When she got pregnant, her parents really stepped up. Meanwhile, my uncle, a photographer in New York, told me I was becoming "very attractive" and he could introduce me to some people if I ever wanted to get into modeling. When I found out just how much money I could make, I decided to take on the job and help support my son, if nothing else.
The world I got myself in was incredibly fun, but no place for a child. Most of it consisted of "networking," which mostly consisted of drugs and alcohol. Being in my late teens and early 20s, plenty of people, men and women, drooled over me. I savored it, and discovered I had quite an exhibitionistic streak.
Meanwhile, Sam's mom took the traditional route. She went to college, got married, had another baby. Surely it was healthier for Sam to grow up in an environment like that?
In New York, I started an affair with a friend of my uncle's, who was moving to Europe and wanted me to come with him. Other than Sam, there was nothing else holding me back. His mom and I agreed it was best for me to go, and for the fatherly role in Sam's life to be fulfilled by his step-dad. Seeing Sam twice a year for his birthday and Christmas might just confuse him and cause more harm than good, so I gave up any visitation rights. Plus, the thought of explaining my sexuality to my child, or anyone else in my family except my gay uncle at that point absolutely terrified me.
Instead, I worked hard, and partied even harder. The relationship with my uncle's friend lasted a couple of years, and was followed by an endless number of affairs. As fun and amazing as that lifestyle was, by the time I was in my mid-30s I wanted something more permanent. California was a place I kept coming back to for work, and when the time came to settle down, I decided to relocate there permanently.
I couldn't believe Mom and Dad were the same age; sometimes he seemed closer to my age! From the way he dressed, to the way he talked, to the way he used social media, he reminded me of some of the cool guys at my school. Being around him sometimes made me... nervous, something I tried hard to keep under control. We decided to spend my second evening there watching a movie on his huge TV together. When I sat on the couch and he came to sit next to me, I found it hard to focus on the movie.
Dad never seemed to wear a shirt around the house, and the shorts he wore left very little to the imagination. It's like he radiated sexual energy, which I felt even though I knew that was wrong. It was the weirdest things that caught my attention at times. His long legs, and how much taller he was than me. His feet, several sizes larger than mine. How he often sat with his hands on the back of his head, exposing his armpits, one of the few hairy parts of his body. Not to mention his perfectly sculpted muscles.
"So I was thinking," he said, sitting on my left, "I wanted to throw a little party, have some friends over."
"Oh. Sure. Hope I won't be in the way," I answered quietly.
"Nonsense. I'm having them over cuz I wanted everyone to meet you."
"Of course," he said and scooted closer to me, and ruffled my hair. "Would you like that?"
"Good. That's settled then."
He put his right arm around me, rested it on my shoulder and continued watching the movie. I could feel his scent and the heat radiating from his body. He made himself comfortable, stretching out his legs on the ottoman and spreading them open, casually adjusting his crotch a few times.
"What's up?" Lamar asked over FaceTime the following morning. "You sounded nervous over text."
"So you know how I told you yesterday my dad and I worked out together for the first time?"
"Yeah. How did it go?"
"It was fine. But after we were done... he went to take a shower and he didn't try to hide or anything. I saw him completely naked."
"Man, you're so fucking lucky, I swear," he laughed.
"I know, I know, he's your dad, I promised to stop making inappropriate comments."
"That's just it. I... got hard when I saw him."
"Oh." I saw his humorous expression disappear.
"What? Do you think I'm weird?"
"No! No no," he tried to reassure me. "Listen, I get how that's weird, but you didn't even know the guy until a couple of days ago. It's not like he raised you or anything. Plus, Sam, you're an 18-year-old virgin. I'm surprised you don't pop a boner every time you see a phallic-shaped vegetable."
"So you think there's nothing to worry about?"
"Of course not! Your dad is gorgeous. You're neither the first nor the last person this has happened to. Relax! Just have fun while you're there."
A few days later, I was getting ready for Dad's party. When I got out of the shower, I realized I was out of clean underwear. I wrapped a towel around my waist and headed to Dad's room.
"Hey Dad, can I do some laundry?" I asked. He seemed to be getting ready to take a shower as well, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts.
"Of course, we can do it tomorrow. Or did you need something for right now."
"It's just... I ran out of underwear."
"That'll take a while. You can just have some of mine," he said, opening a large drawer.
"Umm, sure, thanks."
I looked inside, mesmerized. The drawer was meticulously neat, and full of over a hundred pairs of underwear, folded and color-coded.
"Pick whatever you like," he said.
I looked at the designer waistbands with brand names I knew but had never seen in person, but I tried to play it off cool.
"I'll just have these," I casually reached for a white pair right off the top.
"I see we have the same taste in underwear," he said, winking at me and smiling.
I looked at my hand and to my surprise I realized I had picked a jockstrap.
"Those are my favorite, I have several pairs. Matter fact..." Dad said and pulled down the back of his shorts, flashing me his asscheek. Underneath, he wore the same jock.
"That's... great. I'll go get ready now," I said and sprinted back to my room. I closed the door and took off the towel around my waist.
I walked to the full-length mirror and put on Dad's jockstrap. It was my first time wearing one, ever. I'd jerked off hundreds of times to guys similar to Dad peddling them on Instagram or other places. Looking at myself, I felt sexy. Granted my body was nothing compared to Dad's or those other models', but I still felt good. I realized I was starting to get hard again.
Before I knew what I was doing, I was rubbing my dick through the fabric with one hand, and reaching for my phone with the other. My fingers quickly found their way to Dad's page, where I scrolled through his photos until I found what I was looking for.
It was a set of photos where we was wearing the same jock I had on. On one photo, he was proudly showing off his ass, completely bare except for the straps hugging his meaty cheeks. The next photo was even more explicit: Dad, from the front, flashing his smile and displaying his bulge. Almost everything was visible through the thin white fabric: I could make out the head of his dick.
I was fully hard and leaking precum by this point. It was getting all over Dad's underwear but I didn't care. I looked at myself in the mirror. Was I jerking off to my own dad?! No. No, I was jerking off to myself. Look how hot I was in this tight jock. The fact that it was his didn't really matter. Fuck, I was close! I caught another glimpse at my phone. The same jock, filled by Dad's package, his big balls and his dick. The dick that made me. Fuck! I'm cumming. I'm cumming!
I came all over my stomach and wiped it clean with the jockstrap. Can't throw this in the hamper now, I thought, and hid it under my bed. I quickly got dressed, freeballing in some shorts, and headed to the living room. On my way downstairs I heard the shower run in Dad's bathroom.
I hung out in the living room, waiting for him to come downstairs, when I heard a knock on the door.
"I'm heeere!" someone yelled out as soon as I'd opened the door.
It was a guy, probably just a few years older than me. He was good-looking, and wore a smart T-shirt and dark jeans. He was holding a bottle of champagne in each hand.
"Oh. You're not Ben," he said with a confused expression on his face when he saw me.
"He's in the shower. I'm Sam."
"Oh, you're Ben's son. Hiii!"
I was about to offer him my hand, when he came in for a hug. The champagne bottles clinked behind my back as he hugged me.
"So nice to meet you! I'm Mateo!"
"Um, hi Mateo," I said as he passed me and let himself in. He seemed to know the place well, as by the time I'd shut the door he was already holding two champagne glasses.
"Care for a drink?"
"Sure, thanks," I replied.
"I remember what it was like, being under 21 and not able to buy your own," he winked at me. He barely looked a year or two over 21 himself.
Just then, Dad came jogging toward us. He seemed in a rush; he was still dripping wet and only had a towel around his waist. The towel wasn't quite big enough to tie around, so he held it with one hand as he jogged, leaving a trail of water behind him.
"Hi," he said, and took a second to catch his breath. When he got to Mateo, the two of them kissed. Mateo was shorter, and rested his hands on Dad's pecs as they kissed. Rather than a peck, the two made out for several seconds, like horny teenagers with no sense of propriety.
"I see you've met Mateo," Dad said looking at me, still panting. "My boyfriend."
The other guests started to arrive half an hour later. Everyone made polite conversation with me when meeting me, then focused on my dad, talking about places and people that I didn't know. Mateo and my dad were all over each other, holding hands and hugging, or grabbing each other's ass when they thought no one was looking. At one point, I saw Mateo tuck his hand in the back of Dad's pants, pulling them down a bit and exposing the waistband of the jockstrap Dad was wearing. I had to go out for some fresh air.
I took a seat in the backyard, empty except for the couple of people that were smoking. As I sat down, I realized I needed to slow down on the liquor. I wasn't used to alcohol this good, so I kept downing one glass after the other and it was starting to hit me quicker than I thought.
"Mind if I take a seat?" a man I hadn't seen, who seemed to be in his early 40s came up to me.
"Sure," I said, and he took the chair next to me.
"I'm Greg," he offered me his large hand.
"Sam. I'm Ben's son."
"Well, hello Sam."
He smiled at me. By this point, there were over 50 people at the party and most of them, men and women, were stunningly gorgeous. Greg was no exception.
I may have gotten carried away a bit, planning this party. In retrospect, it might've been better to just invite a couple of people to introduce to Sam and not overwhelm him. But a few people invited a few more people over, and I lost track of who all was there. I hoped everyone was being appropriate around Sam. I didn't exactly move in what you'd call child-friendly circles. (Then again, I guess he wasn't a child anymore. He's the same age I was when I moved to New York.)
I just felt bad for not mentioning Mateo to him earlier. When I heard his voice I came running, to get a chance to introduce him to to Sam.
As the hours went by, I lost track of my son. I went looking for him and found him in the backyard, talking to a man. When he turned around, I couldn't believe who it was.
"Greg!" I said with a fake smile and patted his back.
"Well hi there, 'Dad,'" he said with a jab. "I was just getting to know your son here."
I noticed Greg's hand was on Sam's bare leg, caressing it. I looked at Sam, and he seemed comfortable with it. Greg kept his hand there and smiled at me.
"Why don't you come on in with me for a second, I wanna introduce you to someone," I told Greg.
"Really? Who?" he smirked.
"You'll see when we get there," I said, resisting the temptation to drag him by the ear.
"See you soon, Sam," Greg said and ran his hand up and down my son's leg a couple of times.
"See you," Sam replied with an infatuated smile.
I sprinted to the kitchen and waited for Greg to catch up with me there.
"What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"
"What?" he said with a smirk that never left his face. "I'm just getting to know Sam."
"What're you even doing here, who invited you?"
"Come on. You and I were together for three years. We have plenty of mutual friends."
I had been having a great evening so far and didn't want to cause a scene.
"I'm watching you," I said with a finger pointed at him.
"Nice to see you too, dear," he ran his fingers through my hair and went to help himself to another drink.