HENRY:

    I jumped out of bed, looking for something to cover up my naked body with.

    "Shit. I'm sorry," I said as I grabbed a towel by the bed and placed it over my rock-hard, cum-covered cock.

    "No, it's my fault!" my father said from the doorway as he quickly turned around and disappeared. 

    I'd just been caught jacking off by my dad, precisely at the moment when I shot my load all over myself. The funny thing was, this wasn't the first time Dad had caught me masturbating, but because of his memory loss he probably had no recollection of it. I put some shorts on and went looking for him around the house, just to make sure he's okay.

    I found Dad in the dining room, acting all flustered while trying to make a cup of tea.

    "Here, let me show you how to work the microwave," I offered and I did it for him. 

    "I'm sorry for walking in on you," he said again, trying to sound as calm as possible.

    "No, Dad, it's my fault for leaving the door open," I insisted.

    "It's your house, you're free to leave doors open as you please," Dad smiled, and I was happy to see the situation was deescalating.

    "Actually, Dad, it's your house. I got it after the accident, but now that you're awake you're its rightful owner."

    "Huh," he said, taking his tea out of the microwave and sitting down at the dining table.

    I made a tea for myself as well and I joined my father at the table.

    "Dad… Do you really remember nothing?" I asked after a few minutes. The whole concept of amnesia seemed so foreign to me, even though Dad's doctors did their best to explain it to me.

    "I remember… some things, but through a haze," Dad replied pensively. "Like just now, after I took my nap, I wanted to put on a fresh pair of socks. And I opened the drawer and they were there! I got it right on the first try! I don't know how I knew that that was the sock drawer but I did."

    "Dad, that's amazing!" I smiled. "You should share that with your therapist."

    "And this street. When you brought me here I started to recognize it. We've lived here a long time, haven't we?"

    "Yes, since you and mom were teenagers," I nodded. "Things were different back then, you got this land cheap. Prices have skyrocketed since."

    "Yeah, this is a nice neighborhood," Dad said, looking out the window at the greenery of Stag Meadow Lane. As I looked out of the window as well, we spotted a man walking up the street and approaching our house.

    "Somebody you know?" Dad asked.

    "No, I've never seen him before," I replied. Something about him was a bit… off. He was a handsome young man, but he looked broody and pissed off, even though it was a lovely, sunny day in late September. He walked up our front yard and knocked loudly on the door. I considered throwing on a shirt, since I felt kinda awkward answering the door shirtless to strangers, but I didn't have time to do so anyway. I left the dining room and rushed to the front door.

    "Are you Zavier?" the sulky stranger asked, and I noticed that he was holding a small package in his hands.

    "Hi. It's pronounced Javier. That's my fiancé, he's always correcting people," I said with a smile.

    "Well he sounds lovely. Anyway, this is for him, I got it by mistake," the handsome man basically thrusted the package in my hands. I looked at it and noticed the number 2 in our address looked more like a 7. The house at #7 Stag Meadow Lane had been vacant for a while, but apparently it now had a new tenant.

    "Did you just move in?" I asked the man, who was already turning around to leave. "Are you at #7? I didn't know there was somebody new in that house."

    "Well I wasn't aware I needed to check in with anyone," the stranger said.

    "Oh no, no need to check in. Welcome to the Lane! We're a friendly bunch here so if you ever need anything just let us know. I'm Henry," I offered him my hand.

    "Cesar," the man replied, shaking my hand wearily, as if he was careful about touching me.

    "Oh, just so you know, the next-door neighbors at #3 are throwing a party this weekend. It's Stephen Johnston's 54th birthday. You should drop by! The entire street's invited and it'll be a great way to meet all the neighbors."

    "I am… busy. But you enjoy the party," said the man, walking away from me and then turning back to add, "By the way, you have something on your stomach. I think some of it is on your hand as well."

    I noticed his smirk and then I looked down at my abs to see them still covered in the cum I'd shot earlier in bed.

—

    Stephen Johnston's party was a fun ordeal. His sons Taylor and Rory had come down from New York, and I got to catch up with them for a while. Xavier and I also spent a lot of time talking to my buddy Emmett and his husband Vince. Early on, the conversation turned to our mysterious neighbor from #7, who nobody knew anything about.

    "There's something fishy about him. You should keep an eye out for him," Xavier said to Vince, who was a cop. "He basically moved in in the middle of the night. Who does that? And his blinds are always drawn."

    "Some people are just more private than others," I said to my fiancé. "Or maybe he works at night and sleeps during the day."

    "I dunno," Xavier persisted. "Think about it: single man, no spouse, no kids. Acting all dodgy. My money's on he's a drug dealer. I heard they buy houses in perfectly normal suburbs now, where you least expect it, and they turn them into dens."

    I left Xavier to his conspiracy theories and I went to talk to my dad. I was happy to see he was socializing at the party, reacquainting himself with his neighbors. Thankfully most people knew to take it easy on him and not ask too many questions. Even though he was having fun, Dad's social batteries soon wore off and he announced that he was going back home. I hung out around the party for a while, but a part of me felt uneasy about Dad being alone at the house. I said my goodbyes to the hosts, told Xavier I'd see him in bed, and I headed home.

    At our house, I noticed the lights on in Dad's room with the door cracked open. I walked up to it… and experienced a reversal of what happened the other day when Dad walked in on me jerking off. This time, he was the one lying in bed naked, and I was the voyeur in the doorway, standing there unable to look away.

    I was having a déjà-vu. This had happened before, when I was 13. Dad was lying on that very bed, working his hard rod, and I peeked in through the door for just a second or two. Back then, my mother and brother were in the house and when I heard my mom coming up the stairs I quickly ran away. She went inside their bedroom and shut the door, and I assume my father didn't need to keep jerking off much longer. As for me, I ran to my room and turned on my computer, writing a filthy story about a son who catches his father jacking off and secretly watches until they both blow their loads. When I finished my story, I quickly jumped on my bed and took care of the throbbing teenage boner in my pants. 

    Now, this was all pretty similar to the scenario in my pervy story. Dad was lying in bed fully nude, his right hand sliding up and down on his rock-hard daddy dick. He'd left the birthday party to show his cock some lovin', and I couldn't blame him for that. I stood in the doorway, just a few feet away from the bed, and my hand slipped inside my jeans, grabbing my growing tool.

    If it wasn't for dad's memory loss, I would probably walk into the room and take his dick in my mouth, just like I'd done on my 21st birthday. But he didn't remember any of that for now, and I didn't want to freak him out. Instead, I stood outside peering in, feeling my blood rush to my penis until I had to unbutton my jeans and pull it out since it was too big to fit in them. 

    Looking at my masturbating father, I imagined the taste of his prick in my mouth; the taste of his cum sliding down my throat. Dad's eyes were closed and he was losing himself in the moment, going harder and harder on his pole. With his feet on the footboard, he started to lift his hips off the bed, enough for me to catch a glimpse of the tattoo on his ass that he'd gotten in my honor. I missed my "old" dad, and I was looking forward to the day when his memory returned, so he and I could pick up right where we left off.

    I scanned my father's exposed body from bottom to top. It was only a shadow of his previously fit bod, but he still looked good. His large feet, which I used to massage when I was little. His hairy legs, which were now covered in gray hair rather than chestnut brown. His balls and cock, which were surrounded by more hair than I'd ever seen in my life. When he was young, Dad always kept his pubes trimmed and his balls shaved – I knew that because I always paid close attention when I saw him naked. Now, after coming out of the hospital, dad obviously had other priorities than manscaping. I imagined what it might be like to suck his dick now, with all of that pubic hair tickling my nose. Usually I was no fan of it, but for my father I'd be willing to do anything.

    "Mmm. Ahhh. Mmm!" Dad started to moan in his bed, his hips thrusting up and down faster and faster. It was like he was fucking the air, ready to blow his load soon. I was working my own throbber, gripping it firmly with my fist, getting close to the edge. I looked around, wondering where to blow my load, and I decided the best place to do it was in my hand. I held up my left hand in front of my cock, watching my Dad as he let out a final "FUCK!" and shot his cum all over his torso, his hole body shaking like he'd been electrocuted. I wondered: Was this his first orgasm since he woke up? Judging by the amazing amount of jizz he shot out, I wouldn't be surprised if it'd been gathering in his balls for ten years. He absolutely drenched his torso in cum, and it took all of my willpower not to burst into the room and start lapping it up.

    As I watched my father give himself a semen shower, I started to blow my own nut in my hand. My load was more modest, since I'd just bred Xavier's ass that morning, but I still worried it might start overflowing and dripping out of my hand as I tried to hold on to it. Quickly, as soon as I was done shooting, I brought my hand to my lips and swallowed my own load, at the same time as I stepped away from the doorway and down the hall to my own room.

    "Tastes nutty," I thought to myself as I lapped up my jizz, and it brought a smile to my lips. It was the exact thing I'd heard my father say once, eleven years ago…​