Hudson Family Tales

Over the next week, I couldn't shake that night with Dad from my head. When I closed my eyes, I could smell the whisky on his breath and feel his whiskers on my mouth.

I must have jerked off five times a day, even slipping a finger into my ass a few times to at least partially resemble the fulfilling girth of Dad's cock sliding into me.

Then, after I shot each load, I would quickly remember how it ended.

Dad told me I felt just like my mom, which seemed like a good thing, but then he got up from my bed and stumbled out of my room. A moment later, his bedroom door closed. With one of Dad's cum loads in my stomach and another inside my hole, I was left naked in the dark, wondering what he meant.

The next morning, Dad all but made me think the whole thing was a dream. He didn't say a word about it when I came into the kitchen for some cereal. Instead, he told me to have a good day, and to look for a job. High school was over, he groaned. Then he left.

Day after day, as much as I reminisced about Dad's cock, his avoidance ignited an anxiety in me.

It was back to showering with the door closed, dressing in his room with the door closed, and seemingly having every conversation with a door closed. I was too scared to ask, but I wished if he were mad, he'd just tell me, even if it meant we could never explore like that again.

Eventually, I couldn't stand waiting. I had to do something, but I wasn't sure what.

I needed advice from the only man in the world I knew I could go to. There was nothing I couldn't tell Dad's dad -- Pop.

He was the coolest guy in the world. I trusted him more than anyone, even Dad himself.

Whenever I had questions about sensitive topics, Pop was always there for me. Since Dad was so gruff, it had always been easier to go to Pop when I had questions about my body growing hair in new places, or my voice beginning to deepen, or even when I needed someone to tell me if it was time to start wearing deodorant.

Pop spent his entire career being a coach for college football teams. After all the time he'd spent in musky locker rooms, talking about guy stuff was totally normal for him.

Pop was surprised to see me when I showed up at his doorstep. I'd tried to get out of the house earlier to beat the June heat, but nonetheless, by the time Pop answered, he noticed a redness on my cheeks and a bead of sweat dripping down my forehead.

"What're you doing here?" he asked, not waiting for an answer before he pulled me into the living room. He sat me on the couch and took a seat on the coffee table in front of me.

For being my grandpa, I couldn't believe how young Pop seemed. He looked more like Dad's brother than his dad. But I guess that's the way it goes when you have a kid at nineteen. "Everything okay, Buddy?"

Pop always called me Buddy, ever since I was a boy.

One of my first memories was when Pop would lay in bed with me, rubbing my tummy when I stayed over and couldn't sleep. His hand lightly went around my stomach, and he would tell me I was his best buddy in the world until finally, I'd doze off with a big goofy smile on my face.

He looked the same as he did back then. He was a little more lean than Dad, and sported some silver in his hair Dad didn't have, but he still carried a good deal of muscle like Dad, and he had the same dark chest scruff peeking out of his jersey collar. I wasn't sure if it was because of what happened a week earlier, but I found myself more curious about touching it than ever before.

"Everything's fine, Pop." I moved my gaze back up to his. Unlike Dad's blue eyes, Pop's were a deep green. They looked so serene against his summer-tanned face, reminding me why I'd come. I needed help. "I guess I was just hoping we could talk about something. It's kind of embarrassing."

Pop looked concerned. His palm rested on my knee. I tried not to harden in my shorts as he patted my leg. "Buddy, you can talk to me about anything. You know that, right?"

Did I know that? For sure? Suddenly, I questioned whether this would be crossing a line.

I thought back to when I was thirteen. I found Pop's stash of porn magazines in his nightstand. I lay in his flannel sheets and pulled down my shorts, confused about why my penis was getting so hard as I looked at the naked ladies on the pages. Their boobs and manicured groins were nothing I'd normally think about in bed at home. But for some reason, knowing Pop looked at these same tits and pussies stiffened me up. I breathed in the oaky scent of Pop's cologne underneath me as I reached down and started rubbing myself.

That was the first time I ever jerked off to the point of cumming. And as my first little load squirted out onto my belly, Pop walked in.

He looked down at my measly little penis dripping with semen, and without a word, re-closed the door in front of him and disappeared. It was the only thing that ever went undiscussed between us. Talk about humiliating.

I hadn't thought about it in years, but now, as I found myself about to tell Pop what Dad and I had done, I hesitated.

"Actually, I'm all set," I said. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing, or you wouldn't be here, Buddy."

My eyes drooped down to the chest hair peeking out of Pop's Patriots jersey. Why was the thought of licking it creeping into my mind?

Then my attention wandered to Pop's forearms, covered in hair like Dad's, and then to his legs, adorned in more hair all over his thighs and calves. "Can I ask you a question, Pop?"

"Of course, Buddy. Anything."

"Did you and Dad... ever have man time?"

Pop's brow lifted curiously. "What do you mean?"

"Well, I was just wondering. Did you and Dad, when he was eighteen, did you, ever, like, have a time where you... took off your clothes? Together? Just to, like, see how you were alike and stuff?"

Pop stared at me with confusion, the same way he did the day he caught me cumming in his sheets.

I backtracked immediately. "I mean, nevermind. That was a stupid question. Who does that? That'd be weird. Sorry I said that, Pop."

"Hey, hey, stop," Pop said, cutting me off. "Buddy, did your Dad finally have man time with you?" He cracked a smile. It was the same smile I saw the first time I rode a bike in his driveway, or the first time I took a girl to a dance at school, or the first time I shaved. "Is that why you're here?"

"I guess, yeah."

In my shorts, my dick and balls were tingling and thickening. I shifted on the couch, trying to conceal what was happening inside my boxers, but I could tell Pop was onto me.

He looked down at my crotch, and the hand on my knee moved slightly up toward my groin. Then Pop's other hand did the same thing on my other leg. "Did you like man time, Buddy?"

My mouth was watering the same way it had when Dad's freshly-showered cock engulfed my face in its warmth. I felt hot, and instinctively, put my hands on top of Pop's. "I liked it," I confessed.

"Do you want to have a little more man time right now? With your Pop?"

"Is that okay?"

"Of course it's okay, Buddy. I've been waiting for this."

"Really?"

"Remember that time I caught you in my room?"

Suddenly I was mortified. It was bad enough I remembered that moment, but now Pop was bringing it up? I apologized. "Pop, I'm really sorry about that. That was so embarrassing and stupid."

"Stupid?" Pop chuckled. "It was hot. That's what it was. Goddamn awesome."

"What?"

"I walk into my room, and I find you there, on my bed, pulling your young pud to my porn. Do you know what a proud Pop I was in that moment, watching you take care of yourself like a healthy man, letting that little load shoot? I remember, I was so impressed at how well you were growing. Your arms, your legs... your privates. Some hair had just started coming in down there. You were startin' your journey, Bud. I would have stayed in there, but I wanted to give you some privacy. So I left."

"You weren't mad?"

"Mad? Hell no, Buddy. I was proud. And if I'm being honest, a little turned on, as wrong as it might be."

"All this time I thought I was messed up."

Pop was in disbelief. He stopped massaging my thighs and looked me dead in the eye. "I'm sorry you felt that way, Buddy. I wish there was something I could do to make that bad memory go away."

His brows pressed down, and I could tell he was serious. He wanted to make me feel better about it. Then his brows went back up. He had an idea. "I'll tell you what, Buddy. I can't undo what happened that day. But maybe, even if we can't erase it, we can replace it, with a better memory. What do you say?"

I felt Pop's hands begin to move on my legs again. My erection was pressing up on my boxers in my shorts, my heartbeat reaching all the way to the tip. "What do you have in mind?"

The next thing I knew, I was following Pop to his bedroom.

We went inside, and I realized I hadn't been in there since that day he caught me touching myself. I looked around at all Pop's trophies and medals. It was exactly like that day. "Magazines are in the same place," Pop said, and then reached to the back of his collar and pulled his jersey up and over his head. He wadded it and tossed it onto the floor.

I was stunned. Every vein in my body tightened, and I took a deep breath. I let my eyes fall down to Pop's furry chest. It was the perfect forest of manhood, only clearing for the two pink nipples bottoming each of his pumped-up pecs. "Dang, Pop. You look great."

"Thanks, Buddy. Why don't you let me see how you're lookin'? Don't think I've seen that chest of yours since last summer."

I reached for the bottom of my tee and lifted it over my head, tossing it next to Pop's on the carpet. The cool air conditioning swept over me. I could feel my nipples tense up.

When Pop came before me and placed his warm palms on my chest, I sighed. It was such a welcome feeling. "Not as hairy as you and Dad," I said, lifting up my arms. "But I do think these are getting a little fuller."

Pop looked at my pits, grazing each of them with his hands, then ran his fingers down to my waistband.

But rather than pull down my shorts, he pointed to his night stand. "Why don't you pick out some reading material for us?" he asked, then made his way onto his bed.

Pop watched as I opened the nightstand drawer, gazing down at the current edition of some porn rag with two busty blondes making out on the cover. When I picked it up, there was another magazine underneath, this cover of a curvy brunette feeling up her own tits.

I put the blondes back into the drawer and held up the brunette, waiting for Pop's next direction. When he patted the space next to him, I kicked off my shoes and climbed onto the bed. I laid next to him, and he reached over and began rubbing my belly, the way he did when I was little.

"Good choice, Buddy. You like 'em brunette, just like your dad." There was that proud grin again. "Open it up. Let's see what's in there."

I cracked open the magazine to a random page, and my eyes widened at the image that appeared. A woman knelt between two men, her hands bringing their fat cocks up to her lips. I stared into the picture, as I felt Pop's hand begin to sink down from my belly to my dick. He slowly rubbed it over my shorts and a moan escaped my lips. My eyes closed and the magazine lowered onto my chest as I relaxed.

"You alright?" Pop whispered, deep and quiet into my ear.

I nodded. He kept rubbing. "Can Pop touch you, Buddy?"

I nodded again. A moment later, I felt Pop's hand slide inside my shorts, just like Dad's had the week before.

I breathed in as my shorts slid down my legs, and off my feet onto the floor.

There was no going back with Pop now, and I never would have guessed what I was about to experience for the very first time.