Hudson Family Tales Pt. 03 - Sex Stories

Hudson Family Tales Pt. 03

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 ...