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Category:  STRAIGHT MEN 


    When becoming a parent, it doesn't take long before your kid's social life becomes your social life. As soon as our son was old enough, my wife and I replaced romantic dinners with playdates and kids' birthday parties. Unsurprisingly, it took a toll on our sex life as well as our entire relationship. We didn't complain, though. We had our boy when we were both pushing 40 and beginning to fear that we might never have kids. Now that he was here, I had absolutely no intention of breaking up our family, even if I wasn't completely satisfied with my marriage.

    One of the best things about being a parent was Christmas. Even though our son was now 12 and no longer believed in Santa Claus, we still had fun as a family. We were lucky that, at an age where most kids were pushing their parents away, our son still wanted to stay close to us. I prayed that puberty would never change that.

    In the past on New Year's Eve, the wife and I would probably be up drinking until midnight and then fucking the whole night. Now, however, we were planning a sleepover for our son's best friends, which would be taking place at our house. It was quite a stressful affair, made much worse by the fact the missus caught a very bad cold right after Christmas. She remained strong, but on December 30th she had to admit: she would not be able to chaperone the sleepover. 

    We didn't want to cancel the whole thing; our son had been looking forward to it for weeks! So it was decided that my wife would spend New Year's Eve at her parents' house on Cape Cod, where all three of them would probably be asleep before the stroke of midnight.

    I wasn't particularly excited about watching over six rowdy boys all by myself, but I didn't have much choice. I texted all of their parents in the group chat we had, to let them know I would be minding the kids on my own. Everyone asked if I was certain I wanted to go through with it and then, one of the other dads offered to help.

    "I have no plans on NYE," he said. "If you want, I can come by and help out with the boys, if you need some reinforcement."

    The text had come from Foster's dad, who was also named Foster (the kid always went by "Junior"). I took him up on his offer, mostly because I had a feeling the other parents would be more comfortable with having two adults at the sleepover, rather than one.

    "Where do you live?" I texted Foster privately.

    "I'm in downtown Boston," he replied. "But I can drive back and forth, no biggie."

    The following day, Foster and Junior were the first ones to arrive at 2 PM. The two boys immediately took off to play computer games, giving me time to get to know Junior's dad, who I'd never met before.

    "We got divorced three years ago," Foster said, speaking of himself and Junior's mom. "She lives here in the suburbs and I got an apartment downtown."

    "I'm sorry to hear that, man," I sympathized. "How's that been working out?"

    "Pretty good," he nodded. "See… I'm gay. I just came out recently."

    "Oh wow," I said, feeling dumbstruck but trying not to react that way. "Umm, cheers to that, then."

    "Ha, cheers," Foster smiled, and we both raised and clinked our beer bottles. We weren't supposed to get drunk, but we figured one beer wouldn't hurt, especially this early in the day before the rest of the kids even arrived.

    As we took a swig of our beer, I looked at Foster, who to me didn't look gay at all. He was significantly younger than me, probably in the later half of his 30s. Despite his advancing age, he was quite athletic and fit. He was no bodybuilder per se, but you could tell he hit the gym. I had a bunch of buddies who had let themselves go while married, only to return to the gym after getting divorced. Foster and I started talking about it, and he confirmed that that's exactly what he did as well.

    "Every year, I make a resolution that I'm gonna go to the gym," I admitted. "Maybe I need to get a divorce just to do it," I joked.

    "Haha, nah, no divorce necessary," Foster said. "D'you work in the city? Let me know if you ever need a gym buddy there."

    "No, I work here in the area," I replied, taking another swig of beer.

    "Too bad," said Foster, and for a moment I… I wondered if he was flirting with me. I quickly shook the thought out of my mind, reminding myself it's stupid to assume that just because the man was gay. Foster was just trying to be friendly and helpful. As if a good-looking man like him would ever be into a middle-aged slob like me, anyway.

    The rest of my son's friends arrived over the next few hours. Some of their parents hung around for a while, but most of them had New Year's Eve plans to get to themselves. The plan was for Foster to stay around until the boys' bedtime, which was 1:30 AM. Then, he would drive back to Boston.

    I had a couple more beers over the course of the evening. Foster had one more and then cut himself off since he would be driving. Then, as midnight approached, I found wishing Foster would stay longer. It'd been a while since I spent some time with a male buddy, and he and I were really getting along. Without thinking about it too much, I blurted out,

    "You know… you can spend the night here. Now that I think about it, driving this late on New Year's Eve doesn't sound safe."

    "But I thought the kids would be sleeping in the living room?" Foster asked.

    He was right: three of the boys would be sleeping in my son's room, and three in the living room. Our house had no guest bedrooms.

    "Yeah, but you can crash with me, man, no big deal," I said. I mean, I'd shared a bed with a buddy before, so it wouldn't be a first (although, admittedly, I hadn't done it in a long time; and I'd never done it with a gay guy either).

    "I mean, I'm down if you don't mind," Foster said. "In which case, I'll definitely take you up on that beer."

    I smiled, patted my fellow dad on the knee, and went to the fridge to get him another drink.

    As the night progressed, the beer started to have an impact, and my conversations with Foster were getting a bit more explicit. We didn't take it overboard; just some salty jokes that I wouldn't necessarily exchange with someone I'd just met. By 1:30, the kids were sufficiently tired to finally go to sleep – or at least pretend to. They'd probably be up for a while talking but I had no problem with that. I made sure the liquor was locked away (Foster and I had finished all the beer from the fridge) and I said goodnight to my son and his friends.

    In my bedroom, I gave Foster a spare toothbrush and showed him to the en-suite bathroom. He went there to wash up and I stood in my bedroom wondering what to wear to sleep. I usually slept in my underwear, but since I'd be sharing the bed I figured I should fish out a pair of basketball shorts or sweats.

    While I was still digging through my drawers, Foster came out of the bathroom… wearing only his briefs and socks and holding the rest of his clothes.

    "Cool if I sleep in my underwear?" he asked.

    "Um, sure," I nodded, not wanting to make this weird. "If you want, I can also lend you a pair of sweats."

    "It's simpler this way, so I don't have to wash and return them. If you don't mind, that is," Foster continued.

    "That's fine," I said, looking at the handsome man's near-naked body, which was even fitter than I'd expected. He had light body hair covering it without concealing his muscles. Perhaps most interesting: the underwear he was wearing was violently pink, with white details on the waistband. Despite its color, it didn't look particularly feminine; or maybe it was Foster's burly body which made it seem more manly. He sat on the bed and began pulling off his white athletic socks when I said,

    "If you don't mind… that's my side of the bed. So could you please take the other one?"

    "No problem, bud," Foster smiled. With one sock on and the other off, he walked to my wife's side of the bed. Faced with his back, I couldn't help but look down at his romp which made me go "WHOA!" in my head. This guy's ass was amazing!

    "I was looking for some shorts or something, but if you're sleeping in your underwear…" I said, closing the dresser drawer, taking my clothes off, and getting down to my gray boxer briefs. I felt a bit self-conscious displaying my chubby body, so I quickly killed the lights and left only the nightstand lamp on, which made the atmosphere feel more discreet but also more… romantic.

    "So are you seeing anyone, now that you're out?" I asked Foster as I walked to the bathroom and began brushing my teeth with the door open.

    "No one special," he replied loudly enough for me to hear him.

    "It must be tough, jumping back into the dating scene," I spoke with my toothbrush in my mouth.

    "Um, it ain't that bad," Foster said. "Honestly, I'm having too much fun to tie myself down to one man just yet. When the right guy comes at the right time… we'll go from there."

    I finished brushing my teeth, trying to imagine what Foster meant by "having fun." Surely it must be sex. For a moment I envied all of the action he was probably getting. I couldn't even remember the last time I got laid.

    Five minutes later, I was lying in bed with another man, feeling his body heat radiating under the cover. A few times, Foster's hairy leg brushed against mine, and I found myself feeling unexpectedly restless. Foster was perfectly cool: he didn't try to make any moves on me or nothing. And somehow, I found myself almost wishing he would. With all the lights off now, the rest of the world felt distant. The few beers in my system made my head pleasantly buzzy. I'd had an unexpectedly fun night with this man and I didn't want it to end just like this. 

    After only a few minutes, I had the impression Foster was already asleep. I was disappointed, but at least it gave me a chance to do something I often did while my wife slept next to me. Feeling frisky and spontaneous, I found my right hand reaching down… and slipping into my underwear.

    I was never a particularly kinky person. God knows my life has been as vanilla as it gets for years and years now. Tonight, however, I felt like throwing caution to the wind. As soon as my fingers wrapped themselves around my cock, I felt it growing and filling up my boxer briefs. I stroked my rod up and down, spreading my legs a bit wider until my right leg was rubbing against Foster's left. I knew this was crazy, but that's what made it so exciting. I just hoped he wouldn't wake up and punch me in the face, or even worse, tell all the other parents about this. Just as I started to wonder if I was taking this too far and if maybe I should stop, I heard Foster's deep voice say,

    "Having fun? You don't mind if I join in, do ya?"

    I was startled, and immediately pulled my hand out of my underwear.

    "Uh, what?" I asked, trying to sound sleepy and clueless.

    "D'you mind if I rub one out before sleep? You had the right idea; makes it much easier to fall asleep."

    Foster wasn't upset by all this! On the contrary: he thought it was a good idea!!

    "Um, sure," I said softly. "Sorry if I woke you up."

    "Nah, man, I was never asleep," he said. In the dark I couldn't see much, but I felt his body shift as he reached down to grab his own cock.

    "I've never done this with another guy," I admitted, placing my hand back on my throbbing boner.

    "Let me know how far you wanna take it, bud," came from Foster.

    "What… what do you mean?" I asked as I continued jerking, feeling precum oozing out of my piss slit.

    "I mean, if you want a helping hand or something, just say the word," my new buddy said nonchalantly, as if men gave each other "helping hands" all the time. Maybe they did in his world, but certainly not in mine. But how does the saying go: new year, new me? It was now officially 2015: time to try out something new.

    "I… I wouldn't mind a hand," I said, trying not to stutter. It might be a crazy thing to say, but it felt right in the moment. I was a married man, but my wife and I had our issues. And it's not like a quick handjob from a fellow dad was technically considered "cheating," right?

    On my right, Foster came to lie on his side. Next moment, I felt his warm hand rest on my belly, right at my navel, and slide down into the dense forest of pubic hair. Continuing lower, Foster pried my hand off of my dick and he took over.

    "It's nicer when someone else does it for ya, so you can relax," he said softly. His lips were right next to my ear and I could feel his breath, giving me goosebumps. 

    I let go and did just what Foster said: relax. It had been a long, long time since anyone else had pleasured my dick, and Foster was doing an excellent job. 

    "Fuck, man," I moaned, trying to keep it down so our sons in the other room wouldn't hear us. The last thing we needed was for them to find out what their dads were really up to.

    "Just relax, buddy," Foster whispered in my ear. "Relax and enjoy." All the while, he continued stroking my precum-leaking dick, starting off slowly but then picking up the pace. I found myself flexing my asscheeks and moving my hips up and down, basically fucking his fist, eager to cum.

    "Shhh, slow down," Foster insisted. Then, he let go of my dick completely. I almost let out a whimper. That's when my buddy got under the cover and lowered my underwear, taking them off completely and tossing them onto the floor. On his way back up, he asked, "D'you want me to blow you?"

    I didn't know what to say. The truth was YES, I wanted him to blow me, but I held back. Foster waited for a couple of moments and he decided to take my silence as affirmation. He lowered the cover and in the dark, he went down on my pole, taking it in his mouth and audibly slurping the precum off of my cockhead.

    "Fuck, man. Fuck!" It was more and more difficult for me to keep my voice down. "That feels so good, bud."

    "Just enjoy," he said, swallowing down the rest of my dick without difficulty. I felt it hitting the back of Foster's throat, without even making the handsome man gag. I placed my hands on his muscular shoulders and I squeezed, thrusting my hips again and this time fucking his face.

    Foster sucked my dick for half an hour – the longest blowjob I'd ever received! I lost track of the number of times I got close to the edge, but Foster was an excellent cocksucker; he knew just when to stop and let me cool off before continuing. Finally, it was close to 3 AM and I couldn't take it anymore. I started panting,

    "I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum."

    I expected Foster to pull away and jerk me off to completion, letting me finish on my belly. Instead, he sucked even more vigorously, obviously eager for me to jizz. Did he… did he want me to blow in his mouth?

    "Buddy, I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna cum, bud," I kept repeating while breathing heavily. "You gon make me jizz. You gon make me jizz in your mouth. I'm gon– ummmmppppfffff." I came, spilling my baby-making seed down Foster's throat. He lapped up every drop of it, performing something my wife never liked to do. My hands were still holding on to his shoulders, gripping them tightly, feeling the strong muscles underneath as I emptied my nuts into the stud's mouth.

    When I looked down, barely able to see in the dark, I realized that Foster was jerking himself off while swallowing my spunk. He began to moan and grunt loudly, blowing his nut all over the bed. I was gonna wash these sheets anyway, but now I definitely had to do it before my wife came back home from her parents'.

    After we were both done cumming, my new buddy came back up and lay down. "Told ya it's easier to fall asleep after cumming," he said and moments later, with our ball sacks empty, we were both drifting off to dreamland. The next morning, when my son burst into the bedroom to wake me up, I had to quickly pull up the cover and make sure I was covering my nakedness. The boy noticed my underwear on the floor on his way out but he didn't say anything, he just ran off to rejoin his friends.

    "I hope he couldn't tell I'm lying here naked," I said to Foster. "Can you get up and close the door, please?"

    My son had left my bedroom door slightly ajar, and since I was fully nude I didn't want to risk it and get up. Unlike me, Foster sure seemed to be in a risky mood.

    "I'll close the door… after we do this," he said, placing his warm hand on my dick, just like last night. As always this early in the day, my cock was up in all of its morning glory.

    "Right now?! Are you insane?!" I whispered to Foster violently.

    "Shhh," he soothed me, rubbing his fist up and down my bone and making me give up my better judgement. Next thing I know, Foster was grinning and slipping his head underneath the cover. I couldn't help it: I surrendered. With the door open and the kids playing in the other room, I blew yet another load in Foster's mouth, bitting my lower lip so I wouldn't shout out in pleasure as I came.

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