*Gay Sex: Older & Young men*

When I was 18 years old, my mother left us. Or rather, my dad kicked her out. She’d been cheating on him, not with one other man, but several. He’d tolerated it for some time, but finally had enough. I was glad to see her go. She’d never been a real mother to me. She was never home, spending many nights away and coming home at dawn, drunk and mean. She was a horrible woman, and I hated her. How often I longed for a mother like those of my friends. My dad and I cooked all the meals and handled all the other domestic chores. I never knew why it took so long for him to get rid of her.

Now, it was just dad and me, Ron and Jeff Snelling, carrying on as always with our lives, but without her. It took several months for dad to get his nerves settled down and realize he had his life back. He was only 38 years old when she left, and it was only after that when I could see the color come back in his cheeks and a more frequent smile sweep over his lips. His sense of humor returned and he began to look younger. He’d been a champion distance swimmer in college and still had that drop dead gorgeous swimmer’s body

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Greg Roberts returned home from his law practice every evening at six o’clock in time for supper. He would have one Scotch and soda with his wife, and would sit down for supper, joined by his two children, Scott, 17, and Melissa, 15. They would always converse amicably about the day’s activities and the world news. Greg would then usually retire to his office on the second floor to work on his briefs and the various cases he had pending, while his children went to their own rooms to do their homework.

Greg was the perfect picture of the proverbial middle class, suburban husband and father. His family enjoyed not only a certain social prominence in the community, but lived in a fine two-story house on an eight-acre lot with a pool and a tennis court. He attended church regularly with his family, volunteered on Thanksgiving and Christmas Day each year to help at the local shelter serving meals to the indigent, and was an active member of his neighborhood action committee. His children were honor students in high school and participated in a host of school activities.

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y name is Billy Brighton. I guess my family came from England at one time. Any way first off I want to make it clear that I like fat people sexually, always have on account that both my parent were fat. Fat ladies always gave me a hard on. At 15 here I was and without my parents. I had my stuff brought to a house with an Uncle I had never met who had a son who I never met.

When I pulled up to the house and got out I about died. There was a very fat bearded man and his equally fat son who was my age, yet he had slight fuzz on his own face. I could feel my dick start to harden and wondered if they would like me the way I like them already. I wasn’t sure about popping a boner over a fat man or boy this was new. Women had always done it to me since I was 11.

The lawyer introduce me to my Uncle Troy and his 16 year old son Troy Jr. They had also lost my aunt two years ago that I also didn’t know I had. It would seem you have a distant Uncle and cousin living across the country. I had been living in a nice neighborhood in Upper state New York. Now I was to be living in Texas; As small town outside of Dallas Fort worth Almost in Okalahoma.

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My dad is a great guy. He never made it to college, mostly I suppose because he had a kid to support. But he’s nice looking, kind to nearly everyone, and very smart. He’s a carpenter and so good at it that he’s never been out of work in his life. He’s good at being a dad too. My mother left us when I was very young–young enough that I don’t remember her at all–so dad was left with the job of raising me.

He did a good job of that, too–good enough that I know right from wrong, have a pretty open mind and became a reasonably responsible young man. Right now I’m between my sophomore and junior years of college, home for the summer and working for the same construction company my dad does. We–along with about twenty other guys–build houses. Dad builds cabinets and does finish work inside while I move rocks, dig trenches and do general grunt work outside.

It’s pretty hot here in the summer so about the only things we wear at work are shorts and work boots. At home we get rid of the boots. It’s a casual life but one we like a lot. In the evening, if we don’t go out, dad cooks and I clean up. Dad cooks well–and isn’t as messy as I am in the kitchen–so the meals are good and cleanup is pretty much a snap.

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I lay there in the bed, listening as the door opens quietly and he slips into my room. It has become a nightly ritual, one I love..

He stands there in the light of the moonlit window, his eyes getting adjusted to the semi dark. He is naked and his cock is standing out, hard and at the ready… I can almost taste its sweetness. But, then, I am supposed to be asleep.

He noiselessly glides to the bed and slips down the covers to reveal my own naked body, my much smaller cock standing erect against my smooth body, waiting for his touch. It comes softly as he moves his hand along my nakedness and comes to rest at the base of my cock. He slowly caresses it and I let out a sleepy moan and push against him.

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How often have you heard guys braggin bout the size of their cocks? Well, let me tell you…I hear it everyday!! Ever since my cousin Brodie moved into our house, to be closer to the college he had been accepted to, it was nothing but “My dick this and my dick that…” The good thing was that it was rare that our paths would cross since I was a Senior in High School, had an after school job, and was involved in a few other community activities and he was busy ripping and running the streets. But when we did have an unfortunate minute to chat, all he did was brag about the size of his dick and how the girls wanted it in them and the guys wanted one like it. Most of the time I just played past him cause I know how most guys love to brag and boast about all sorts of things; sports, cars, money, and of course, their cocks and the women they can pull with it and how these women, during orgasmic ecstacy moan and call the name of God! I figured him to be one such guy and so I ignored him… But, one Saturday afternoon, I stopped ignoring him.

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I knew I was going to do it as soon as the foreman called our lunch break. I’d been thinking about it all morning and that little itch I get in my dick had built itself up until it just had to be scratched. And with that itch only another man could scratch it just the right way.

I got in my truck and drove down south of town to the nicely named Miss Sally’s Store for Adults. It was a porn shop with an arcade of 25 movie booths in the back. Most of the movie booths had good sized holes cut between them and the place was always busy at lunch time so I knew I’d get my itch scratched there. I also knew I’d do some scratching of my own.

Inside Miss Sally’s I skipped looking at the magazines and went directly to the counter where I bought five dollars worth of movie tokens. I asked the attendant if the arcade was extra busy and he said it was. “Always is on Mondays,” he said. “I guess you guys must get kind of needful over the weekend.” He winked at me and gave me an extra token.

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For the first time in my life I was standing next to my dad at a urinal. We were in the men’s room at a rest stop on I5 and I was 19 years old. My dad had come down to the university to pick me up and take me back to his ranch for the summer because mom and her husband were going to Europe for three months. Dad and I hadn’t spent much time together since he split with mom and I was just a little anxious about spending the whole summer with him.

“What’s the matter,” my dad said, following my gaze, “you never seen another guy’s dick before?” He milked it down a couple of times and tucked it back in his jeans.

“Sure. Lots of them.” He was washing his hands, looking at me in the mirror. “Just not yours.” I’d been finished for a while so I put it away and went to the wash basin next to him.

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I love my name, Rod because it reflects the big rod I have swinging between my legs and often the center of my life. I was stroking it when I was as young as six and dry-cumming not long after that. My first boy juice spurted out of my well-worked cock when I was eight and I have been using it every way I can ever since.

Mom and dad are in a swinging crowd and left my older brother and me home alone for the weekends for as long as I can remember. That was OK for my brother and me because ever since he caught me stroking at age 8, I have been sucking him off at least once a day. He is only 2 years older than me, but has a pretty big cock for a kid.

The folks like their porn and toys and the weekends gave me time to experiment with all of it^. The dildoes were fascinating and after I had used them some and told my brother, he substituted his cock for the dildoe I was using and I experienced my first real fuck by a cock^ That power he had over my body was wild. His body slamming into mine drove me into another world and when he shot his juices deep into my bowels I came all over him and myself. I saw the look in his eyes as he came, a look of pure joy..

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“Just go to sleep, ok? We’re fine now, this is a nice place and they are nice guys. Do you want to go back to Riverside? Our life is here now. It’s going to be ok Adam, trust me,” Aiden said, pulling me into his side and lifting the covers up and around me.

I laid my head against his chest, listening to my brother’s heartbeat, a sound that calmed me to sleep every night since I could remember. I trust him, but I still felt weird about leaving home. It had been three months since our mom left and the money had run out. Aiden picked me up from school this morning, and had the backseat filled with every piece of luggage we owned.

Aiden didn’t drive home, but pulled onto the crowded freeway and headed towards Los Angeles. He wasn’t answering my questions, he just kept telling me that he had a surprise and things were going to be better. It was almost dark, and I was half asleep when we pulled up to a nice house somewhere in Orange County. He left the bags, and pulled me by the hand out of the car and up towards the door.

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