Dad On The Can

 From another dadsucker...

DAD ON THE CAN: PART 1

My dad always smokes when he's on the can. He's been that way as long

as I can remember.  There's a little window above the sink at his

place that squeaks when we pull it up. I hear it in the middle of the

night sometimes and it's a tell tale sign that he's gonna be in there

a while.  Whenever I head in for a piss in the middle of the night the

room smells a like a dump and cigarettes. I usually shut the window

because the neighbors across the way have a view in.

My dad and I are kind of big guys who sweat a lot, and the only a/c is

in the bedroom. That's his room - it's basically big enough to fit his

bed.  I sleep on the hideaway in the living room right outside.  Early

on I started sleeping in the buff because it's so muggy. I figured he

does too after glimpsing him a couple times heading to the bathroom at

night with a piss hardon.

The only bad thing about our setup is privacy. I've been crashing on

his couch since I got out of college, coming up on two years ago.

Dad's had this place three or four years since he & mom got divorced.

I'm his only kid and I take a lot after him (sneak a couple of his

smokes when I come in from the bars). He's coming up on 50 and is

still built like a brick shithouse from working as a contractor. I'm

in pretty good shape too and definitely have the hormones of a guy in

my 20s.

I've jacked off a couple times at night on the pull-out when I could

hear dad snoring, but mostly I have to relieve myself at morning in

the shower. That's tricky because dad and I have the same schedule and

he's prone to barge in to take a dump or piss or shave while I'm in

there too. I finally brought home a dark shower curtain to replace our

clear one. Dad was cool with that because he figured the other one was

getting dingy from his cigarette smoke. For me it was a lifesaver for

those times he busted in while I was 20 seconds away from cumming with

a big boner. Neither of us could see a thing.

A few times I was beating off hard in the shower and had no idea dad

was there until I smelled smoke. This happened two mornings ago. My

heart leaped and I froze with hand on dick. I tried to guess whether

the soapy strokes were making an obvious sound. Through the shower

spray on the other side of the curtain I could hear dad clear his

throat and turn through a newspaper. My pulse was racing and I looked

down and gave my hardon a squeeze. I had a huge drool precum and tons

of lather so I took a couple strokes to test it out. My strokes went

thwack-thwack, but I figured that's the sound a soapy shower makes. I

started up into a rhythm again but the sound got me too paranoid. So,

frustrated and horned up as I was, I turned into the spray and rinsed

off my dick. I needed to stall a couple minutes to let my dick go

down. Damn, I was horny.

I turned my back to the spray and was rinsing out my ass and legs when

I caught a glimpse of movement on the tile just outside the curtain.

Holy shit. I had never noticed the tile giving off a reflection. There

was a faint image of dad on the john. I craned my head a little and

could even make out the reflection of a cigarette in his paw. When he

moved, the image was easier to catch. There was an irregular jerking

motion that made him stand out loud and clear against the tile. My

dick was immediately at straight attention watching all this. I

figured he was wiping his ass, but the movement was getting quick and

regular, and it started to occur to me what dad might be doing on the

can.

I fell over myself reaching for the soap, dropping the bar to the

shower floor, picking it up and getting a thick lather going. My

heartbeat pounded in my ears each time I peeked at the edge of the

curtain. Fuck! There was my dad pounding his cock for all it was

worth, no doubt about it. In the reflection on the tile I could make

out a clenched arm and an impressive hardon pointing straight up his

hairy belly. Everything was shaking fast, his arm, shoulder, pecs, and

ballsack. I was mimicking the movement at the same speed. My balls

tightened up real quick. I looked down at my cock and mouthed a silent

'fuck' before moving my head around a little bit for the best view

before letting my load go.

Through the shower curtain, I heard dad explode air through his nose

like he had been holding his breath a long time. The movement on the

tile wall completely stopped. I had only two or three more strokes

left on my cock and felt my load slam against the shower wall. The

spurts kept hurling out of my cockhead harder than I had cum in

months. My mouth was open real wide while my body was shaking. I shook

off the cum and shakily turned around to rinse off.

With one movement, I shut off the water and pulled the curtain aside.

My dick was down and I reached for the towel. Dad was hunched over the

sink with shaving cream on half of his handsome mug. No towel on or

anything. There was a cigarette going in the ashtray, newly lit,

looked like. He glanced at my wet chest in the mirror.

"I'll be out of your way in a sec, son," he said, lifting his jaw up

to shave. I took a quick glance at his cock. Soft, redder than the

rest of him, with a drop of something hanging at the tip.

"No prob, dad."

I toweled off real quick and headed to the clothes drawer. An obscene

boner was tenting up my towel all over again.

DAD ON THE CAN: PART 2

That night I got home from work a couple hours late. Dad was on the

La-Z-Boy watching a re-run game. I played baseball in college and

loved catching a game on TV with dad. I headed to the fridge and

popped open a beer, opened up my shirt collar and plunked my shoes

off.

"Dad, need a beer?"

"No, son, just started this one."

There were five empty cans on the counter, so he had a head start.

Some nights when I got home really late, there was a trail of empty 16

oz. cans in the kitchen, the living room, and the top of the toilet.

The sight of those cans made me feel a funny kind of affection for

dad, though when I dumped our recycling bin I sometimes wondered what

the neighbors thought. No mystery where he and I got our bellies.

You could definitely tell that we were father and son. We used to get

mistaken for brothers, although since the divorce a couple years ago,

dad has gotten a little more salt and pepper. We both have square jaws

and ears that stick out a bit - that's one thing people notice when

we're standing together. We've got meat on our bones, stocky, muscular

guys, and pretty hairy. Dad showed me how to shave at age 11 and not

long after that hair was sprouting all over my chest, ass, and back. I

still haven't had to start shaving my ears like him, though. He's a

hairy fucker. It grows on his shoulders and sticks out the collar of

his shirt. Besides beer cans, dad leaves a trail of dark curly hairs

all over the apartment. They are unavoidable in the shower and the

recliner in the living room. Sometimes they turn up in surprising

places, like when I'm buttering my toast at breakfast.

I took off my work shirt as I headed into the living room and dropped

onto the couch with a groan. Dad was cracking his ankles on the

recliner chair, watching one of his star players at bat. He was

lounging in dark socks, gym shorts, and a tank top riding over the

bottom of his hairy belly. It looked like the game was in the seventh

inning, and I caught up on replays while dad excused himself to the

bathroom for a smoke and piss. I saw him swagger a step off the

recliner as he headed away.

While dad was in the bathroom, I got out of my work trousers and threw

them off the side of the couch. I noticed the end of a plastic bag

sticking out from the back of the couch, which was odd because I

usually hid it pretty well. That was my spot for a couple titty

magazines and a bottle of lube. I pushed the bag farther behind,

hoping dad hadn't found it, although I didn't care too much since I

discovered his stash under his bed long ago. The apartment was very

hot, and I was fine lounging in my boxers. I took a swig of the cold

beer. Dad came out the bathroom door past a cloud of cigarette smoke

and crawled onto the recliner.

Between me and him, the pile of empty beer cans was pretty impressive

by the end of the night. Dad announced bedtime and got up from the

recliner, scratching his belly and flicking off the tube. I burped

when I got off the couch and opened the hideaway for bed.

"Good night, son," he mumbled, ambling to his nice air-conditioned bedroom.

"Night, dad. Sleep tight."

I woke up sweaty in the middle of the night with a throbbing bladder

and a huge piss hardon. I reached for the edge of the couch, stumbled

up, and took a few lurches toward the bathroom. My head was throbbing

and my boner was sticking straight out the crotch of my boxers. I

tucked it back in before I grabbed the doorknob. I'm glad I did,

because what I saw as I opened the door gave me a big surprise.

A wave of hot air slammed my face, smelling like cigarette smoke, body

odor, and something like scrotum. Dad was sitting on the toilet and

flinched, flushed and surprised. I stammered out a sorry and slammed

the door behind me.

"Oh fuck! Sorry, dad."

He chuckled behind the door and I heard the sound of him getting onto

his feet. "Be right out."

I had seen him for just a second, but the bright bathroom light seared

the picture on my brain. Dad was fully naked and absolutely covered

with cum. No mistaking it. There were white ropes of semen streaking

all the way up to the shoulders. It must have been a pint of the

stuff. The deep indentation between the dome of his belly and the

slabs of his pecs and shoulders was soaked. The area all around his

navel was a whole lot of black fur swimming in spooge. One hand was

still gripping his dick and it looked like it was dunked into a vat.

Cum spilled over his knuckles and was drooling onto his hip. His face

was a totally flushed mixture of bliss and embarrassment.

I also was bright red with embarrassment. My heart was hammering in my

ribs as I backed away into the living room. I was a little blind from

the bright light in the bathroom and kicked over a couple beer cans

backing up.

"Fuck," I stammered again.

Dad swung open the door. "And watch your mouth," he said, closing the

bedroom door behind him with a chuckle.

He was gone before I had a chance to say anything. The bathroom door

was wide open, and in the light I could see stale smoke spilling out

into the kitchen and living room. I went in and stood over the toilet

waiting for my hardon to go down, but all I could think about was the

smell of dad in the tiny room and the sight of him covered in

ejaculate. What a fucking load. I gave my cock one hard stroke and an

enormous drool of precum fell in the toilet with a plop. I didn't care

that dad's bedroom adjoined the bathroom wall. I broke into a frenzied

jackoff, hunching over the toilet, arching onto the balls of my feet,

grinding my hips, and panting like a sonovabitch, eyes on my cock.

Glancing to the counter, my heart lurched. Dad surely didn't mean to

leave it out - there was a tub of Vaseline sitting on the sink with

the lid off. I reached in for a scoop and discovered a few black hairs

stuck in the goo. That was it. I slathered the stuff all over my cock,

pounded away with my right arm and rubbed the sweaty fur on my front

side with the left. My nutsack pulled in tight and thick, and I felt a

great throbbing sensation inside me right between my asshole and

ballsack. The thick slurpy sound of my stroking was echoing off the

bathroom loudly. I noticed the window above the sink was open but I

didn't give a fuck. I saw my reflection in the mirror, furry pecs

flexing with each stroke, neck and face beet red with a couple veins

bulging. I moved my eyes back down to my cock and raised on the balls

of my feet one last time. The buildup churned really hard. I felt my

thighs, neck and face start to tingle. It was too much and I pointed

toward the toilet.

"Awwwww, FUCCCCKKKKKK!!!"

My choked snarls echoed off the walls. I heard myself going 'unh, unh,

UNH' and watched with disbelief as the first three shots totally

missed the bowl of the toilet and slammed the wall and the tank with

an audible sound. I closed my eyes and stumbled toward the toilet as

the rest of the shots volleyed out. I had to support myself with one

arm on the wall as the rest of my orgasm played itself out.

I stood over the toilet panting and opened my eyes.  My cock was still

jerking. I wiped up what I could and threw the wad of toilet paper

into the bowl with a plop. I almost shut the window when I had one

last better idea. I sat down onto the toilet, pulled out one of dad's

cigarettes and lit up.

I puffed. The rush of orgasm blended into the cigarette high. I closed

the lid on the Vaseline and threw it under the sink.  I stood up,

taking the last few puffs my smoke, and threw the butt into the

toilet. My long awaited piss thundered into the bowl and the butt

dated around in the water. I flushed, turned off the light, and groped

my way back to the couch, boxers less tented, but still with a wet

spot.

DAD ON THE CAN: PART 3

The next few days of summer were so hot, I sweat bullets just getting

out of the shower. At night I kept the windows open and slept with an

ice pack on my belly. I don't remember hearing dad go for the bathroom

like usual. I can't blame him for staying holed up in his room with

the a/c.

The evening before my birthday, I was wiped out. I came in the door,

dropped my keys, wallet and shoes, and discarded my clothes in a trail

to the kitchen, soaked undershirt, socks and all. I swiped a beer out

of the fridge and ran it across my chest and the back of my neck with

a hiss. Sweat streaked down the small of my back into my wet boxers.

"That you son? Come on in here, tell me what you think," Dad called.

I followed dad's voice to the bathroom. He was standing in front of

the sink in a pair of white briefs. Our electric clippers were in his

hand. His face waited for mine in the mirror to see my reaction.  I

almost spit out my beer.

"Whoa!!"

Dad had buzzed off the hair on half of his head. There were clippings

all over the sink and toilet tank, as well as his neck, shoulders and

back. Dad was taking in his reflection with as much surprise as me. He

gave out a deep laugh and explained he was only halfway done. He and I

always had good heads of hair, and though we keep it cut short, it was

never THAT short. I never saw him anything like it. The buzz cut

really suited him.

I grinned from ear to ear and felt a bolt of shock and pride at the

handsome new look. Truth be told, I felt an initial flash of something

else, too, maybe like a vampire catching sight of a razor cut. My

heart thumped.

"Did I get it even in the back?" he asked.

I stepped up close and ran my hand on the back of his head. It was

stubbly, oily, and sweaty.

"Hey, you did a pretty good job," I answered. "One or two spots could

get touched up. Want a hand?"

He grinned and handed me the buzzer.  I gulped a swig of beer and

swapped him the can for the clippers.

I flicked on the buzzer and felt it jump to life in my hands. As soon

as I took the first swipe on the back of dad's head I knew I was

fuckin' into this. A clump of hair plopped down onto my wrist and

peppered the front of my body on its way to the floor. I evened out

the spots dad already started. I took steady mows through the hair he

hadn't touched. I guided his head down so I could get the nape nice

and close. The swelling in my boxers jacked up into a tent while I

held his neck down. It couldn't be helped, but I was glad to be

standing behind and out of sight. I came to his side and turned his

head a little to get sideburns and temples. When I finished up and

turned off the buzzer, dad took a long swig of the beer. He checked

himself out in the mirror and looked back at me with a grin. I think

he blushed.

"How's that?" I asked.

He pulled me beside him in the mirror and slung a big arm around my shoulder.

"You did a great job, son. Looks damn good."

I grinned and held up my arms to show off the clippings. Dad did the

same. The undersides of our forearms were normally one of the few

smooth spots on our bodies, but now they were covered in hair. The

tent in my boxers gave a nod. I think dad may have noticed, but he

gave me a kiss on the side of the head and a slap on the back.

"Can you do me too?" I asked.

I was feeling a little brave. It was a hot summer, and I was into

getting the haircut if dad would do it.

"Sure, son. Serious?"

I nodded, and he said he'd be right back with two more beers. While he

was gone I fished out my dick for a piss. The hardon was down enough

to manage a stream. Dad came back as I was letting out the last few

jets. I had to bend and do a little dance to tuck that cock back in my

boxers. Dad lit up a cigarette and reached for the buzzer and the

ashtray.

"Ready?" he asked, putting a paw on my shoulder.

"Go for it."

Dad flicked on the clippers and moved his hand to the top of my head

for the first buzz. He muttered, 'cool,' and I smiled. I watched the

look of concentration on his face as he went to work and hair fell in

tufts on his arms. I was in a state of admiration watching his biceps

and forearms curl when he took swipes up my head. Dark, furry

shoulders, nice thick arms, and matted pits. The smoke from the

cigarette in the ashtray curled up in front of us in the mirror. When

dad finished an area, he ran his palm over the stubble to check

evenness. As he worked, he shuffled closer to my back. By the middle

of the haircut I was almost sandwiched against the sink. Dad's sweat

and belly hair mopped my lower back. He shifted from side to side and

a couple times and I felt his basket brush against my ass cheeks. My

thighs tingled and my dick throbbed against the corner rim of the

counter. Big time boned. I squirmed to get my hardon to shift to one

side.

"Almost there, kiddo. How you doing?"

"Just enjoying the ride."

He flashed me a grin. I reached for a drag of his cigarette and he

gave me a glance in the mirror on the exhale. I studied the sweaty

curls of hair on his forearms and compared them to the curls on my

chest. A chip off the old block. It would have been a sight through

the window, two sweaty lugs covered in clippings.

He gripped my shoulder and flicked the buzzer off. He gave me a hard

clap on the back and pulled away showing me the hair clippings on his

hand.

"Good job," he said. "I need to rinse off."

We took turns in the tub, and a cold shower was just what I needed for

the clippings and the erection. While I was in there, dad shouted in

an offer to crash on his bedroom floor. It was the hottest night of

the summer so far, way too muggy. His bedroom was tiny, with a small

path of floor, but I couldn't pass up the a/c. That was nice of him.

The cold air in dad's room felt great when we opened the door.  He had

spread out some sheets and a pillow for me on the floor. The cool

sheets were luxurious after swampy nights in the living room.  The

pillow smelled like him. I let out a satisfied groan and passed out in

no time.

In the middle of the night I woke up to the sound of gentle rhythmic

squeaking from dad's mattress. My chest seized up. I cracked open my

eyes and kept perfectly still. My dick was rising with each heartbeat

and squeak of the bed. I opened my mouth as breath started coming out

hard. Every four or five squeaks dad let out a soft, satisfied grunt.

My eyes opened wide and I concentrated on the sounds over the noise of

the a/c.

The rhythm varied itself and the squeaks got progressively louder. Dad

was really enjoying himself, though I think was trying to keep it

down. I was a little embarrassed and boned as steel listening to him

going at it. The squeaks started coming out with a percussive, fleshy

sound, skin on skin. He kept an insistent rhythm and I could feel the

vibrations of the mattress through the floor.  Soon it developed into

a more slurpy sound, and as soon as I heard that, a huge drool of

precum jerked out of my cock onto my belly.

Dad was now grunting with satisfaction and the wet strokes were taking

over the a/c.  I carefully moved my hand to my cock without making a

sound. My eyes rolled back when I gave it a squeeze and smeared precum

around the head. I took two fast strokes and cringed at the wet slurp

that sounded near the floor. Dad's stroking stopped for a split second

and then he was back at it even faster.

I moved my hand off to the side and lay there still listening to dad

building up. He was breathing heavily. The sheets were starting to

rustle.  My legs got really tense, ankles flexed, knees bent, hips

curling. I was breathing heavily out of my mouth and mustering all the

strength I could not to beat off.

Then, full voiced I heard him let go. It was a sloppy caucophony of

slimy dick slapping, bed shaking, grunting, and huffing. He let out a

'fuck' followed by some jagged, belly crunching grunts. I flinched on

the floor as a rope of hot cum splashed on me out of the sky. Followed

by another. And another. It was hitting me all over the chest and

shoulder and neck. Dad was fucking letting it fly everywhere and

moaning like he needed it bad. What a fucking cum cannon. My shoulder

was getting soaked. I was paralyzed.

After a thud of dead weight on the mattress, I heard dad slowly roll

off the bed. I played possum best I could. One of his thick legs

thumped down between my ankles. He opened the door and trailed off

toward the bathroom.

I grabbed my dick in a flash and let out a growl. I smeared cum out of

my chest hair and slopped it all over my cock. My temples were

throbbing and my legs were shaking. I went at it, loud and messy with

the lube, and gripped my hairy ballsack with the other hand.  I

stroked and stroked, hard and furious.  Dad's cum was still warm and

slick, and my dick roared for release.  My shoulders and head hunched

up off the floor, my legs spread wide, ankles curled. Ballsack

tightened. I smeared cum on the inside of my thighs and started

tingling all over. I was looking in the dark at my noisy dick. The

load rose up and my head went back.

"Awwwwwwwww FUCCKKKK!"

I ejaculated all over myself.  Fuckin' amazing load. I heard the first

two shots smack the floor behind me with a plop.  I huffed out a dozen

ropes and ground my teeth together to keep from yelling. My hips were

rolling, legs flexing.

On the other side of the wall I heard dad clear his throat. There was

a faint echo of his lighter in the bathroom. I collapsed in a mess

against the pillow, panting and blown away. I must have plunged asleep

instantly, because I have no recollection of dad coming back into the

room.

I woke up before him in the morning and watched him snore for a

minute. I went to the bathroom and smiled at my reflection in the

bathroom. I tugged at some of the dried cum. Great haircut.

DAD ON THE CAN: PART 4

That morning in the bathroom, getting the dried cum out of my belly

hair was going to be about as easy a wad of chewing gum.  But I was

sweating profusely and the stuff was getting reconstituted into gummy

stripes up my chest. There were clumps of hair on the floor from my &

dad's haircuts last night. I scraped the bottom of my feet against my

calves as I stepped into the shower.

I was singing and lathering up the mess on me when I smelled cigarette

smoke in the room.

"Someone is cheerful for this early in the morning," dad called from the sink.

I felt a laugh in my ribs. Dad was right. I woke up feeling like a

million bucks. My humming echoed off the shower walls and I couldn't

help it. Dad turned the sink on and made some comments about all the

hair on the floor. We made small talk on either side of the shower

curtain, each doing our thing. I think he was shaving. I watched the

patterns of hair on my belly, crotch, and thighs swirl around in the

soap, and with a few pulses I was boning up.  If dad wasn't right

there, I could tell it would be a great morning for a long stroke in

the shower. I was feeling like a teenager.

"Gonna flush, son, watch out."

I moved to the back of the tub and the water ran cold. Against the

tile, I could see dad moving around in the reflection. His back was to

the wall and the two stretches of fur from his shoulders to his lower

back looked like a dark vest he was wearing backward.

I moved my head under the spray and squirted out a wad of shampoo

before I realized I didn't need it.  I smeared it on my buzzed head

anyway, still not used to feeling my scalp.

"I'm not used to this stubble yet," I called out to dad.

He grunted in response. It sounded like a heavy, labored grunt, not a

sign of assent. His thoughts were off somewhere.

I listened intently but couldn't make out much other sound over the

water.  I kept flashing back to that first shot of cum landing on me

from out of the sky last night. I gave my dick a couple good long

strokes before deciding it would have to wait. I had been in there a

while. I turned the water to cold and rinsed off. I was still half

hard when I reached a dripping arm around the curtain for the towel.

Dad was gone. Whew. The boner still wasn't fully down yet. I pulled

the curtain open all the way and dried off.

Plunk, plunk. Both of my feet right in the middle of piles of hair on

the floor. I lifted my arms and dried out my pits in front of the

sink. I gave them a sniff and toweled off the fur on my chest. Dad

called out good day from the front door and I heard it shut behind

him. That's when I looked down into the sink and recognized some

incriminating puddles.

What a fucking mess. I could hardly believe my eyes. There were shots

of semen covering the front rim of the counter and the chrome on the

sink. A big puddle had oozed toward the drain and brought a bunch of

hair clippings with it. Dad's tub of Vaseline was on the side of the

counter with the lid off.

I threw the towel aside and bent over, my face a couple inches from

the counter. I studied the clumps of bright white sperm swirling in

the clear fluid and took a sniff, not bringing in much but the musky,

smoky smell the room always has. My cock was back to full attention

and throbbing for what was coming. I made the decision quickly. Heart

leapt a little bit as I scooped up dad's cum in my paw and grabbed the

Vaseline with the other hand.

My dick pointed the way as I plodded into dad's room and slammed down

on his bed. My sheets and pillow from the night before were on the

corner of the bed and I slung a leg over them. I smeared the first

part of dad's jizz from stubby fingertips onto the head of my cock and

let out a deep growl. This was gonna be a great nut.

Lying on the top of the bed and stroking on my cock I couldn't help

replay last night's stroke session from a new perspective. I smeared

more and more of his cum to my cock until I was slurping away whole

fist. Hips curling and uncurling. I enjoyed the weight of my big arm

going at it and giving the whole bed steady movement. My heart rushed

when everything started squeaking just like it did last night for dad.

I was grunting and bracing the bed with my heels to fuck my fist. I

quickly reached the point where I had to start and stop a few times or

the load was gonna fly out of me. I turned my head to check out the

view of the floor where I had been sleeping - not much, just the top

of the electrical outlet. I lifted the hand with dad's cum to my face

and it smelled like bleach and musk from my pubes. I moaned the moment

I put it back on my penis. My other hand roamed up, down, and all over

the lower part of my belly. The fur made a soft, crackling sound.

Fuck. I felt the load rising up and it was great. I moved the roaming

hand to the base of my dick for a firm squeeze, down to my nuts, and

then to that spot right behind my ballsack - furry and hot.

Then with a red faced roar I started cumming. REAL good. It just flew

up and out from the energy I had been building up all morning. After

the first shot hit my lip and chin I quickly rolled my torso and

watched with tongue lolling out of my mouth as the white ropes arched

over the side of the mattress and splattered the floor where I had

slept the night before. Two, four, six shots volleyed over the side of

the mattress. I was gaping like an idiot and moaning hoarsely and

repeatedly. My nuts felt like they were never going to descend again.

I collapsed in a sweaty mess. I could feel a big old shit-eating grin

and waves of relief.  When my chest stopped heaving I put my chin over

the side of the mattress to check out the damage on the floor.  Truth

is, I could still make out dry white circles from the night before,

and most of those were dad's.  I decided to leave my fresh shots there

and check it out tonight or when I could next, see how obvious it

looked.

In the meantime, it was time for a quick return to the shower. The a/c

was off and I was sweating like a pig. I got halfway to work when I

think I remembered the tub of Vaseline. It was hard to remember - I

didn't remember seeing it lying around in the bedroom, but I don't

remember putting it back.  I let the thought stay with me for a minute

and then let it go.

DAD ON THE CAN: PART 5

Things at work were slow, even with half the office on summer

vacation. I checked in with folks and left a couple hours early. That

tub of Vaseline was still on the brain and I wanted to check dad's

room before he got home.

When I walked in the door, I was surprised to hear the TV going and

dad talking on the phone. The place smelled like roasting meat and

body odor, a weird mix, but a home kind of smell. The place was extra

hot from cooking in the kitchen, but not as stifling as the elevator

and hallway. Dad poked his head around the corner and waved. He

cradled the phone on his shoulder and ducked back into the kitchen.

I dropped my work shoes with a thud to the floor. Next came the

trousers and shirt. I stripped down to our apartment uniform, which

for me and dad was usually just boxers. My work clothes were soaked. I

leaned over the couch to drop them in a pile and caught a glimpse of

the plastic bag of my stash sticking out behind the back of the couch.

This time I was pretty sure something was up, because I stuffed that

bag way back last time I looked at my titty mags.

Dad came out with a can of beer in each hand. I cracked it open and

felt a jolt to my heart as the icy brew raced down my esophagus. I was

a sweaty mess. Dad's chest and shoulder hair were plastered to his

skin in dark rings and the body odor was strong with him closer.

"What's up dad, did you just get home?"

"Nah, had the day off today. The site called this morning and a

transformer downtown blew. Power should be back tomorrow."

I slugged down the can of beer between pulling socks off and chatting

dad up. Dad followed my first sock with his eyes as I threw it on the

pile next to the couch. When I added the second sock to the pile, I

shoved the end of the plastic bag behind the couch with a sharp rustle

and turned back to gauge his reaction.

"I made some chili, want some?" he said.

"Chili?  Yeah, sounds great."

Forget the bag. I am always hungry after work. Big time. Dad's a great

cook, and I am a good eater, so I guess it works out well for both of

us. Dad has always seemed pretty pleased at what a good eater I am,

especially since I moved in, which is kind of a point of pride for me.

He told me to help myself, and excused himself to the bathroom.

When the bathroom door clicked, I moved like a panther to his bedroom.

I just needed to take a quick scout of the room. I roved around; no

sign of the tub. Everything looked the same it did this morning, only

it smelled really strongly of scrotum. I was about to leave but paused

to check out if my stroke this morning had left any stains. The wood

floor was spotted with white circles, but I could see light shining

off some clear streaks that definitely weren't dry. I looked closer

and also found some dark, wet lines on the wall too. How new were

these? I touched them and they were room temperature, but as I rubbed

the slick stuff between my fingers I felt a flush of embarrassment as

my dick started to rise in my boxers.

I got out of there real fast and scooped a big bowl of chili for

myself. It was good. During dinner I talked to dad about what he had

done all day, which was not much, though he did clean up the mess from

our haircuts. We kept breaking off conversation to watch the game on

TV wrap itself up. Dad was kicked back on his recliner chair with one

hand behind his head and the other absently scratching his balls. I

was fully sated on chili and pretty punchy from the beers. I staggered

up to take a piss, and as I walked past dad, I touched my cold can of

beer to one of his nipples. He yowled and took a lunge for me.

I chuckled while my piss filled up the bowl. When I flushed dad pushed

past me and said, 'my turn.' I washed my hands and got a glimpse of

his package poised above the bowl, waistband of boxers slung

underneath his sack. Damn. We never talked about it, but I always knew

dad and I were pretty well hung. This guy he had me beat, though, and

at my age I probably wasn't gonna grow any more. Monster dick. I kind

of understood where the expression 'hung like a horse' came from.

I looked back into the bathroom once on my way out. The image of dad's

hairy back, buzzed head, and shaking arm were on my brain as I pulled

out the hideaway and shut out the lights.

I woke up a couple hours later with a piss hard. The beers had gone

down deceptively easy in that kind of heat, and lunging up off the

couch, I had to admit I was a little drunk. Standing above the toilet,

I could still almost feel the way dad slid beside me to take his piss

earlier. I smiled dreamily remembering him yelp. My dick was plumping

up while I finished emptying myself. I noticed dad's cigarettes on the

counter, and without a second thought I pulled one out and held it

unlit in my lips while I tried to quietly open the window above the

sink. It was basically like trying to unwrap a piece of candy slowly.

The squeal from the window echoed off the tile. I lit up and sat down

on the toilet, flicking ash into the sink.

I don't know if it's because of the beers, or the confusion about my

bag behind the couch, or the smell in that bathroom, but while I

smoked on the couch my cock kept rising. The head poked out the fly of

my boxers. Holding the cigarette between my lips, I shucked them off.

I sat back down on the toilet and gave my dick a couple tugs. Felt

good. I spit in my palm and started in on a wank. I had never smoked

and stroked before. It was pretty fucking hot to hang there on the

toilet with my legs spread and going at it like that.

All of a sudden, the door crunched open. There was dad, butt naked. He

squinted from the bright light and looked down at me on the toilet. A

shit-eating grin spread across his jowels.

"'Atta boy. Goddamn. I was just coming in here for the same thing."

I don't know if he meant for a smoke or.... My hand froze on my dick,

but it jumped in my paw when I got a whiff of the smell he brought

into the bathroom with him. He was a bear standing over me, fur

sprouting out in whorls from his feet to his shoulders. I could almost

still hear the last few wet strokes on my cock still echoing off the

tile.

Dad quickly reached for the smokes and lit up, leaning against the

door behind him. His face disappeared behind a big cloud of smoke and

I gave my dick one more wet-slapping stroke. He let another few puffs

and I did the same. I saw his dick start to rise quickly.

I was eye-level with his furry thighs. My eyes roved down to the gnarl

of muscles around dad's kneecaps and down to his thick calves. Even

his toes had tufts of fur on them. My gaze moved on to my feet and up

my spread thighs to my belly and cock.

I blushed when I heard the dry thwacking of dad beating off. I blew

out a puff of smoke and watched his arm and pec muscle working. His

thick, square wrist had a grip on his cock. The cigarette dangled from

his lips while his head looked down at what he was beating off. The

door creaked as he leaned back against it heavier and shifted his feet

farther apart. I couldn't take my eyes off the heavy balls swinging

back and forth between his furry thigh crease. Back and forth, strong,

steady rhythm. The head of his dick poked through his circled fingers

over and over again.

My cigarette was done and I lifted up on the seat enough to throw the

butt behind me in the water. My jacking arm kept going and the free

hand roved from my balls to my belly and chest, and ended up nestling

in the armpit of my jacking arm. I could keep my blunt fingertips in

the pit and just reach the nip with my thumb. My dick jerked in

response and a bubble of precum flowed out. I must have moaned because

dad looked up. He wasn't smiling. The only way to read the expression

on his face was crazy horny. We didn't quite make eye contact, but he

was hungrily roving over the muscles in my shoulder and arm as I beat

off. And that made even more blood force its way into my temples and

my hardon. I felt something inside me start fluttering and popping. We

beat off hard, checking each other out.

Dad was stroking with gusto. The rhythm from his big arm was sending

tufts of air to me like shockwaves from a subwoofer. His dry thwacks

turned into juicy, liquid strokes as precum coated the skin sliding

over his cockhead. The door creaked again as he spread his legs

farther and took to it with abandon. Just like I had heard the night

before when dad thought I was sleeping, his rhythm got strong and

insistent, and grunts came out of his mouth every off-stroke. I

realized my grunts had started going back and forth with his. The last

shred of inhibition fell away and I went at it full hog.

I writhed on the toilet seat, ankles flexed, mouth agape, hips

curling. I was not yet ready to cum, but I felt the point of no return

explode in my groin and shoot throughout my body. Even the hand

trapped in my pit started wriggling in pit hair. Dad, too, was

grinding on the heels of his feet and making noises like something big

was about to strike. He and I and locked gazes for a second and he

stammered, 'oh fuck.' I glanced down to my sloppy cock to watch it

shoot, but before I could count one-one-thousand I felt two jolts of

piping hot jizz splash my goatee and then my sternum. They weren't

from my cock.

Dad bellowed out and fell forward against the counter. He unleashed a

torrent of cum and coated my chest. I flinched, unprepared, as a good

nine shots pummeled my pecs. It was like getting slammed with a

pressure bottle of hot oil. My shoulders and neck got splattered with

flecks, but my chest was a furry surface of piping hot ooze. My neck

flew back and I yelled out to the ceiling. My first cumshot flew

straight up and arched in the air just in between my face and dad's. I

looked at him and watched my shots slam against his leg. Dad grunted

out approval and hunched forward as a shot slammed my chest in

response. I lunged to my feet. We grunted and moaned out a prolonged

orgasm, milking out our last shots on each other's feet, cum oozing

between our curling toes.

We stood there locked shoulder to shoulder, sweating and heaving. My

vision came back from dark as waves of intense satisfaction coursed

through me. Dad twitched and his sweaty shoulder hair tickled my ear.

I grunted out one last shot I didn't think I had in me, and it landed

on dad's pubes and wrist. He groaned.

Our heads and shoulders squirmed up at the same time. We looked each

other in the face, flushed and sweaty. I don't know who took the cue

from whose eyes, but suddenly we both started laughing. It was an

unstoppable, deep belly laugh. It shook the walls and brought waves of

euphoria and relief right up to the top of our heads. Dad smacked one

paw on the top of my buzzed head and smeared his jerking hand on my

shoulder, cum and all. I reached around his back and shoulder and

heard our hearts racing. My laughs shook him and vice versa. We were

smelly, sweaty, and covered in cum.

Dad broke the embrace, reached for a cigarette, and looked me right in

the eyes with a huge grin.

"Fuck. Smoke, son?"

"Hell yeah!"

DAD ON THE CAN: PART 6

Work offered me a raise if I took on a later shift, and I figured it

was the chance to save up for a place of my own. My new schedule and

dad's rarely lined up, and I hardly ever ran into him at home much

anymore. Often I'd get home after midnight and he was in bed. Once in

a while he'd stay up for late dinner, but usually he left a note on

the fridge pointing me to leftovers.

The extra privacy was kind of nice, I had to admit. Not that dad and I

were all that modest, but I could strut around the place naked when he

was gone. Once in a while I would raid dad's porn stash when I got

tired of mine. Occasionally I noticed his tub of petroleum jelly on

the bathroom counter with black hairs stuck in it. I was pretty sure

he was raiding my magazines, too, because every few days my plastic

bag behind the couch was a little sloppily rearranged. The final proof

was one afternoon as I had a wank on the couch. I flipped open to a

favorite spread in one of my magazines, and saw greasy petroleum jelly

fingerprints on the glossy edges of the page. Hell, at least we had

the same taste. Dirty dog.

The other thing about the late shift was that it let me exercise

before work. I hadn't been on a team since college, and missed jogging

and lifting weights. After six weeks I was pleased with the bulk and

definition I was adding. Dad and I are pretty big-boned guys and hold

our weight well. He arm wrestled me one night and I pinned him in a

few seconds flat. My sleep got a million times better after hitting

the gym, but I was always dead tired by the time I made it home.

One night I got in around 1:00 and heard the TV going. I was about to

call out when I heard a sharp snore from the living room. I put my

keys on the counter quietly and took off my shoes. I smiled as I

headed in toward the couch.

Dad was passed out on the recliner in his boxers, arms folded across

his chest. In the blue flicker from the TV, he had a pretty serious

look on his sleeping face. His chunky wrists disappeared into clefts

between his pecs and upper arms, which pushed his upper chest out. The

zone in the square of his folded arms was black and dense. There was a

little glint of silver chain in the middle of the fur, and only about

half an inch strip of bare skin separating the top of his chest hair

and his five o'clock shadow. His mouth was open and the man was really

sawing some logs.

I plopped on the couch and got ready to pass out, myself. I pulled off

my work clothes and threw them in the corner. The belt buckle hit the

wall, and I flinched, but dad snored steady on. I flicked through

infomercials on TV and landed on a cheesy soft porn flick. A nerdy

scientist was having a dream about being seduced by a bunch of

swimsuit models in his lab. They stepped out of clouds of fog behind

bubbling beakers and came over to him in their bikinis. One girl in

yellow took his glasses off and one in green grabbed his tie and

unbuttoned his shirt. Kind of scrawny guy and cheesy gals, but I

realized it had been a few days since I popped a load. Why the hell

not.

I glanced over to dad.  I just had on my boxers and was able to get

that elastic band under my nutsack quickly and quietly.  After a few

dry, flesh-thwacking strokes I put one of the cushions up on its side

to block dad's view, in case he woke up.  Nice attempt, but it kept

falling over on me.  I jacked in the open, quietly as I could, but

definitely heard my own thwack-thwack-thwack over the lowered volume

of the TV. I looked away from the TV and at him a couple times just to

make sure he was out. I didn't stop my jacking when I looked his way,

in fact I sped it up. Dad's hairy belly was rising and falling

steadily with each of his snores. The pot of his belly came out just

over the top of the band of his boxers and his thick black hair

disappeared under it. My precum started to flow, first a drop and then

a steady stream, which took the decibel level of my stroking up a

whole lot. The scientist on TV disappeared with the ladies into a

cloud of fog and the scene was over. I was getting close. I think I

was gonna get away with blowing a load right in front of my pop while

he was snoring on the chair.

Then I saw his hardon. Dad hadn't moved an inch, except the steady

rising and falling of his belly. But at some point after my stroking

got wet and loud, I had stopped watching so cautiously. I could see

his heartbeat because that fat dick of his rose up with each one until

the head poked out the side leg. Dad's knees were pointed out to the

side and the inner thighs showed one of the few places on his body

where the hair had been rubbed smooth. That's right where the head of

his hardon was bouncing. What a great dream the guy must have been

having. I looked down and rubbed that same smooth spot on my inner

thighs and felt the tingling and buildup hurling me toward the edge.

As I spread my knees out wider and hunched wide-mouthed, dick pointed

at my head, I shot one last glance at dad. The belly rose and fell,

and one of his big toes twitched.

FUCK!!!  Up it flew from the deep base of my cock.  The contractions

shot my first three ropes up to my face: forehead, eye, then chin.  I

had to keep it quiet, but despite myself heard a stunned "HUNH" escape

my mouth. I was heaving, crunching, and thrashing on the couch, riding

out the wave as long as I could, and it was a good long one.  Finally

as I came to, I was aware of the sound of my legs sliding back and

forth on the upholstery and my ankle cracking as it curled around. My

belly fur was soaked - the hairs floated like seaweed. I looked up to

dad, still snoring, didn't move a budge, hardon still poking out his

shorts. I was heaving as silently as I could. I pondered dad's folded

arms and my cum-dripping hand.  I put my paw into my left pit, clamped

down, and smeared the load there, as I ambled up toward the bathroom.

I shut the door silently and winced as the window opened with a

squeak.  I lit up one of dad's cigarettes and blew smoke out the

window.  Looked like one of the neighbors across the way was still up,

but I didn't care if they could see me - at this hour that's what they

get. Man, this smoke was good, but I was so tired that finishing it

seemed like a chore.  My eyelids were real heavy.

On my way back into the living room I stepped in something slimy. Must

have dripped on my way to the bathroom.  I passed by the recliner, and

dad had shifted position, one arm up, with his eyes buried in the

elbow. His other hand was buried in his shorts. As I moved, the

flicker from the TV revealed a glistening all over his body. The man's

shorts were soaking. There were shiny streaks up his chest and

shoulder, and the belly was sopped.

I lay down on the couch, and, with a pillow behind my head, assumed

the same position. Arm bent over my face and other hand in my shorts.

I looked up at dad a couple times and smiled at the rise and fall of

his slimy belly. I gave my cock a squeeze and don't recall anything

else.  When I came to in the morning, dad was gone to work.