like-father-like-son-5

Asian

Subject: Model Dad: Like Father, Like Son: Chapter 5 Model Dad: Like Father, Like Son Chapter 5: “Confessions” All my stories: ies SAM: “Well someone’s got a big date coming up,” my roommate said to me after he walked into the room and caught me checking myself out in the mirror. “What do you mean?” “I can tell,” Brady continued. “You got yourself some new clothes, you’re glowing…” “Nah, I wish,” I brushed him off, smiling. “Just thought I’d do some shopping earlier. Treat myself for doing well on all my midterms.” Okay, and maybe it had a bit to do with the fact Dad was coming to Boston. “Speaking of dates,” Brady said, “the art department’s throwing that exhibition this week. Wanna go?” “I can’t, I’m busy,” I replied, still looking at myself in the mirror. “What, all week?” “Pretty much,” I finally turned to look at him. “My dad’s visiting.” “Well you should’ve said so.” Brady, who was already in the process of taking off his shirt, started doing it slowly and seductively, flexing his torso and grinding his hips like he were a Chippendales dancer. “Maybe he’ll come visit my bed.” “Ya nasty,” I remarked. “You know it. Make sure you tell your daddy that!” Brady continued, acting even more flamboyantly. “You already have two daddies,” I laughed. “Stop hoarding; leave some for the rest of us.” “Oh yeah. You and him would make a hot couple.” Brady was just teasing me, without even realizing it was hitting home. I felt myself blush and turned around again. “Sam?” he asked suspiciously. “Has something ever… happened with your dad?” “What do you mean?” I tried to sound as casual as possible. “Like… Have you two ever hooked up or anything?” “Oh course not!” I shouted, sounding offended and angry. “Now you’re just pushing it.” “Okay,” was all Brady said, rolling his eyes and turning away from me. — That evening, a few of our friends smuggled some alcohol and we had a mini party in their room celebrating the end of midterms, while trying not to get caught by the RAs. The little tension in the air between Brady and me was completely forgotten about. We drank, we joked around, and spent most of the time sitting next to each other and talking to everyone. “We’re out of cups. Anyone got some more?” the hosts said when a few more people showed up. “We got some in our room. I’ll go get ’em,” Brady stood up. “I’ll come with you,” I got up as well. “I can carry a few cups, dude,” Brady joked, but let me tag along. “Truth is, I wanted to talk to you,” I said, as the two of us walked through the hall. “What’s up?” “I’ll tell you şişli travesti in a sec,” I said. Luckily, our room was just a few doors down. When we got there, Brady grabbed a few cups from the shelf and went to sit on his bed. I joined and sat next to him. “I wanted to apologize for earlier today,” I said. We were both tipsy by now, and in a good mood after the party. It was the type of moment where you drunkenly tell everyone you love them and that they’re your best friend. “No, don’t be silly,” Brady insisted. “You’re right, I’ve been crossing the line. First posting that photo without your permission, and then saying what I said –” “Brady –” “No, let me finish. For the past couple of years I’ve been hanging out with David and Sven,” he referred to his two boyfriends, a married couple in their 50s. “And their son’s there, and they’re a crazy family. I mean that in the best way, but they’re out there.” “B –” “And I’ve kinda gotten used to being so open, and joking about everything, nothing’s really taboo… But I need to remember things don’t work that way in the real world. Like, not everyone is as open when it comes to sex and –” “You were right!!” He finally stopped talking. “What?” “You were right,” I repeated myself. “My dad and I, we’ve… hooked up.” “Well, shit,” he said after a few seconds’ silence, when he finally realized I wasn’t joking. “Yeah. It started last year, right before I left California. The reason why I snapped at you today is because… I didn’t want you to know, I was embarrassed. I thought you would judge me.” “Man, of course not,” Brady put one arm around me. “Like, it’s obviously crazy. Maybe it should’ve never happened. But what’s even crazier now is… that I’m catching feelings for him.” Brady rubbed my shoulder. I smiled. Instead of embarrassed, I finally felt relieved. “I don’t know the whole story,” he said, “and maybe I’ll hear it some day if you wanna share it. But I think you’re a great guy. And I still think your dad’s hot as fuck.” We both laughed, and there was a knock on the door. “We’re waiting on those cups,” our friend came in and scolded us. “C’mon. Y’all can hook up later.” Binge read the whole series now: ies BEN: “Omg I can’t believe we’re half a mile apart!!” my son texted. “You’re in class! Pay attention,” I said and I put down my duffle bag on the floor of the hotel room. “I’ll see you soon,” I added with a kiss emoji. Sam had of course offered to skip classes and come meet me at the airport, which I’d declined. I took my clothes off and left everything on the floor, getting beylikdüzü travesti into the nice hotel shower right away. As I rubbed soap all over my body, I smiled to myself. It was just one of those days when everything worked out: the flight went by smoothly, the weather was nice… and I was finally about to see my boy. Granted, it’d only been a bit over a week since we were together in Cancún, but I knew how much having me here meant to Sam. Interestingly enough, even though I’d grown up in Massachusetts, I never spent a lot of time in Boston. I felt that “air of mystery” around here, and all the freedom that comes with being in a new city and feeling anonymous. When I was done in the shower, I walked out without toweling off and walked around the room to air dry. I looked out the window of the large hotel I was staying in, at the equally large building across the street. I took my phone and instinctively opened some hookup apps. Bloop. Bloop. Bloop. The usual plethora of messages and taps when logging in somewhere new. I smiled. It did feed my ego, but I didn’t feel tempted to reply to any of them. What the fuck was I even doing here, then? I closed all the apps and just looked out the window, continuing to grin. A few hours later, it was finally time to see Sam. I ordered a car and told the driver there’d be two stops: one to Sam’s dorm, and another one to the restaurant where I’d made a dinner reservation. When Sam got into the car and sat next to me in the back, we greeted each other by kissing on the lips. He said hi to the driver, who I’m sure by this point thought we were a couple. When we got to the restaurant, our server made the same exact assumption. He treated us just like he did his other customers, almost all of which seemed to be couples. When ordering, Sam asked me what he should have. “Whatever you want, baby,” was my response. “He takes real good care of you,” the server smiled at Sam. “Oh, you have no idea,” Sam smiled back, looking at me. The whole place was quite romantic. Since Sam couldn’t drink here, I drank for two and almost finished the whole bottle of wine by myself. “You look gorgeous, you know that?” I leaned in and said to him, feeling warm and fuzzy and content. “Well, coming from you…” “I’m serious,” I added, observing him keenly. Since Sam started posting photos online, a lot of people said he and I looked alike. To me though, he reminded me more of his mom. He was almost the same age Danica and I were when we had him. Even though things didn’t work out between her and me, I loved that girl back then. And I was grateful istanbul travesti that she’d done such a good job raising our son. I leaned in even further, as far as the table would let me, and put one hand gently on Sam’s face. “I love you,” I said softly. “I love you too, Dad.” When I put my hand down on the table, Sam reached for it with his own. We stayed holding hands like that until the server came to clean up and offer us dessert. In the car on the way back to the hotel, we both sat in the backseat again, making out like horny teenagers (which, I guess, Sam technically was). The driver paid us no mind, probably used to having randy couples go at it in the back. I was fairly certain, though, that none of those couples were quite like us… In the elevator on the way up, we couldn’t keep our hands (and lips) off each other. Like in a movie, we entered the room while taking our clothes off, panting and kissing in the process. I kicked the door shut with one leg, while kicking my shoe off with the other. Sam walked backwards, unbuttoning the elegant button-up he’d worn to dinner. With our shoes off, I reached for Sam’s belt and started unbuckling it while passionately kissing his lips. Sam fell back on the bed, and I pulled down his pants and dropped them on the floor. I tucked my fingers in each of his socks and pulled those off next. He lay there in just his underwear, watching me tower over him as I took my clothes off. I did it slowly, intentionally, giving him a strip show. He licked his lips as he watched me take off my shirt and flex my abs, then slowly pull down my zipper. Once my pants and socks were off as well, I got up on the bed, kneeling and facing my son. I reached forward and put my hand on his bulge, just as gently as I’d put it on his face at the restaurant earlier. He was already hard in the confines of the back boxer briefs he was wearing. I started rubbing his boner as Sam’s head tilted back. My boy started moaning with his eyes closed. There were no words exchanged. I continued stimulating his cock through his underwear, enjoying this just as much as he was. This was my first time visiting him in Boston. After a dinner date (which was the only way to describe what we’d just been on) things felt… different between us. Maybe I wasn’t able to put it in words, but the lust was real. As tipsy as I was, Sam was stone-cold sober. And he wanted this… At least that part of my conscience was eased. Sam continued to moan louder, his precum soaking through his undies by now and wetting my fingers. Slowly, I hooked my fingertips into the waistband of his boxer briefs. Even slower, I started to pull them down. The boner inside prevented them from slipping, but I continued to pull, until it’d popped out, bouncing against Sam’s belly. “Oh, Dad…” he moaned. Sign up for story notifications: ies Don’t forget to support Nifty: fty/donate.html

Bir cevap yazın

E-posta hesabınız yayımlanmayacak.