Oblivious Dad

by Natty Soltesz, concept by Mor

Dad started lifting that fall and seemingly overnight his already-fit body ballooned to porn-star proportions. But he seemed unaware of how hot he’d gotten, let alone the effect it had on those around him.

Sometimes I would go to the gym with him. But then he started coming out of the locker room in thin, barely-there athletic shorts, paired with a sweatshirt cropped to reveal his strong, hairy stomach and the base of his muscle tits. He’d always been a handsome guy and the grey in his black hair and beard was working for him, not to mention his new Tom of Finland-esque body. He’d leave a wave of craning necks in his wake but just keep smiling and strutting, tits and ass flexing as he loaded plates onto the squat bar.

People would chat him up constantly. “How many times a week do you do legs?” asked a guy and his gal pal, big smiles and big eyes roaming all over my Dad’s body. “Any tips on doing a proper squat?” And my dad would answer earnestly as their eyes followed his big hand, sliding up his hairy stomach and absently cupping his meaty pec.

“Alright, Son, ready to work these?” he said to me that day, slapping his ass cheeks with a smile. I grinned back, a grin that froze as he hit the parallel and those teeny shorts rode so high up into his crack that I saw the edges of his hole.

That was the first time I got a boner from gawking at my hot dad, but it wasn’t the last. He took to wearing only the skimpiest of underwear around the house.

“I just like to feel comfortable!” he said when I commented on it, as if his buxom body couldn’t handle confining clothes. First thing in the morning he’d come downstairs in just his bikini briefs, giving me a sleepy, fatherly grin and running a hand through his hair. More than once he still had the vestiges of his morning wood. And then one morning he strode into the kitchen fully erect, boner straining the front of those teeny bikinis, the elastic sagging so low that his entire thatch of dark pubes stuck out.

“Hey, Son,” he said, coming to where I was eating my cereal and tousling my hair. His hard cock pulsed at my eye level. “Got any plans today?” A milky-blue drop of precum had seeped through the fabric from the plum-sized head.

“Just hanging out with my friends,” I said. I could smell him, too, all musky manliness, and I got a boner as hard as his. Not that he noticed; he didn’t even notice his own. And by the time his coffee was perked and he was pouring in the cream it was soft again, and I was high-tailing it back to my room to whack out one of several loads that day, all while fantasizing about my sexy, himbo dad.

If I wasn’t jacking off in my room I was doing it in the shower, which backfired one day when he barged in on me, late for work.

“Dad!” I said, turning to hide my achingly-hard teenage boner.

“Sorry, Son! I’m running late for a really important meeting,” he said, yanking off his bikini briefs as he spoke. “Can I rinse off real quick? I swear it’ll only take a minute.”

“Wait…” I said, trying to hide my hard dick with my hands as he opened the glass door of the shower and climbed in next to me.

“Just a minute, I swear,” he said, ignoring my hard-on as he went under the stream, his huge and muscled body sliding against mine. “Hand me the soap?” If anything my dick got harder, watching him lather up his muscle tits and heavy cock, then sliding his fingers between his ass cheeks to wash his hole. “Okay, almost done,” he said, and ducked under the stream to rinse off. His massive butt pushed back toward me and, in our tiny shower, there was nowhere to go. My rock-hard cock slid right between his ass cheeks and wedged into the cleft of his deep ass. But still Dad didn’t say anything, his soapy asshole lightly squeezing and releasing against my shaft as he rinsed his hair. He shifted and just for a second his hole caught on the head of my prick – I could feel it almost wanting to slide inside. “Whoops!” Dad said, quickly shifting so my prong popped out from between his thick cakes. I was mortified.

“Thanks, Son!” he said, hopping out to dry off in front of me before rushing out of the bathroom. I came so hard that day, the feeling of Dad’s hole pinching my cock still palpable as I blasted jizz against the shower wall.

It wasn’t long after that that Dad started building the outdoor shower. “I’ve always wanted one, and it’ll be great now that the weather is getting warmer!” he said.

My horniness, however, was only rising with the temperature, and Dad’s daily displays weren’t helping. He started complaining about how sore he was from his frequent workouts and one day talked me into giving him a massage.

“As long as you don’t mind,” he said. “My muscles are killing me. I’ll shower off first.”

“Sure, Dad,” I said, my heart racing, boner rising and falling as Dad took his time in the shower. Finally he came out in a tiny towel that barely grazed the top of his thighs, bottle of massage oil in hand.

“Thought we could do it on your bed, if that’s okay?” he said and got face-down, the base of his buxom ass cheeks peeking out from under the towel as he settled in. I took a deep breath and drizzled oil down my dad’s boulder-like back. It flowed down his spine and into the crack of his ass before I began to spread it around. I was so turned on I could barely think straight, but Dad just sighed contently as I groped his back and worked the oil into his swollen muscles.

“You mind getting the legs?” he said, and when I’d massaged his calves and lower thighs he asked me to keep going. “Been working my quads pretty hard.” I tried to wrap my hands around his tree-trunk thighs. “Up a little higher?” Soon my fingertips were grazing his balls and the space behind them. “Glutes, too?” Dad said, and before I could say anything he raised his hips to cast off the towel and unveil his bounteous ass.

“Sure…” I said, cock pulsing and heart in my throat. I used both hands to work one of Dad’s melon-like cheeks and then the other. I couldn’t resist gently pulling them apart to look at his hole. Dad didn’t seem to notice. It was pink and ringed with dark hair. I rubbed as close to his crack and hole as I dared, and Dad just sighed and groaned.

“Feels great,” he said. “Alright, let’s get the front.” He flipped over; big, floppy dong falling to the side. “Guess I better cover up,” he said before draping the towel back over his dick. It honestly didn’t cover up much. “Oh yeah!” he groaned as I worked his big muscled pecs in each hand. They were covered in trimmed hair, the nipples pink and puffy. It wasn’t till I worked my hands down to his stomach that I noticed he was getting hard, his cock rising like a snake under the towel.

“Sorry about that,” he said when his excitement could no longer be ignored. He slid his hand under the towel, adjusting his hard rod so it audibly slapped against his stomach. “Happens around this time of the day. I’ll take care of it later!” I kept staring at the thick tube of it, pulsing under the towel as I groped his hot body. When I finished he just stood up, holding the towel in front of his boner as he smiled and thanked me.

“That was great, Son,” he said, and I thought, Is he really going to pull me in for a hug? And then he did, his boner pressing against me for a moment, oiled and pumped-up chest engulfing mine. “I really appreciate it!” I watched his nude muscle butt flex as walked out of my room.

When summer was in its throes Dad took up jogging. He would get up at the crack of dawn and bound down the block in just his tiny, thigh-climbing nylon running shorts. No underwear. Twice I caught the gay couple down the street peeking out the window to gawk at Dad’s big tits and solid ass bouncing as he sprinted obliviously down the block, fat sausage flopping around.

“Dad…” I said one morning after he’d showered and was having his breakfast. “Do you think you should wear underwear, maybe, when you’re out running?” He looked at me.

“Oh…I don’t know. The bikinis I usually wear chafe a little…do you think I should?” he said, face full of concern.

“I don’t know,” I said, looking down into my cereal.

“No, you’re right,” Dad said, nodding.

The next morning when he came in from running, coated in sweat, he gave me a wide grin. “Took your advice!” he said and lowered his shorts to reveal a skimpy pair of black underwear, the pouch barely containing his thick prick. “I guess it’s a little racy but it’s much more comfortable!” he said as he turned around, and that’s when I realized it was a thong, the strap swallowed by the massive hair-dusted cheeks of his muscle ass.

“Great, Dad,” I said, at a loss for any other words.

Then there was the day he was doing push-ups by the pool and asked me to help him with some “extra weight.”

“Just lie on top of my back,” he said, smiling at me from plank position. He’d been exercising for an hour in the hot afternoon sun and sweat glazed his body. “I wanna see if I can do five with your weight added.”

I took a deep breath and draped my body atop Dad’s beefy frame, nearly sliding off his sweaty skin. “Get wedged in there,” Dad said, grabbing me by the shoulders and pulling me up onto him. The wet pouch of my trunks went right into the cleft of his short-shorts covered ass, my face in his musky neck as he pushed up and lifted us from the pool deck. “One!” he grunted, his back muscles roiling against my body, his glutes flexing around my cock as he strained. Of course I got hard, and after push-up number five I extricated myself from Dad’s hot body and did a running-jump into the pool to hide it.

By July Dad finished the outdoor shower, an open-air stall that happened to share a wall with my bedroom. He would head there from his run and I would listen to him soap up his sweaty body just a few feet away from where I lay, inevitably groping my morning boner.

I was nearly crazy with lust. The worst thing was that he seemed as horny as I was. The first time I saw him coming in from his run with a hard-on in his shorts I couldn’t believe it. I mean there was Dad’s full-on, barely-contained boner, rigidly bouncing as he jogged into our yard. The gay guys across the street weren’t even trying to hide the fact that they were gawking – jaws were on the floor, mine included.

I listened to him start up the shower and soon heard the unmistakeable sounds of moaning and wet stroking. Yep, Dad was jacking himself off in our backyard. His moans got louder and louder, and I’m sure I was matching him stroke for stroke.

It must have been something about his runs that got the blood pumping to that particular area, because every morning he would come in from his run boned beyond belief, and I would lie in bed and listen as he soaped up and pumped himself to climax. When he came, I did too, imagining the ropes of cum he must have sent streaming across the drain. Once I went looking for remnants of it. Not much was left but I took a taste anyway.

It was after one of these sessions that I came outside to clean and cool off in the pool and found Dad still out there, in one of his tiny towels, examining the mechanics of the shower.

“This dang hot water keeps shutting off,” Dad said, getting on his knees to examine a valve near the base. The towel rode right up, revealing first the bottom of his ass-cheeks and then his hair-ringed hole. I was aghast. “There must be something stuck in there…I wonder what?” he said, half to me and half to himself. “Something probably nasty,” he said, and chuckled. The laughter made his hole tighten and release.

“Yeah,” I said lamely, hypnotized by the sight of Dad’s exposed hole. I even pawed at my cock while I watched him. For a good half hour he went at it, sometimes getting up to grab a tool, but always in his towel and always getting back down on his knees, hole exposed to the open air.

“Fixed it!” he said when he was done.

“Good job, Dad,” I said, feeling the start of a painful case of blue balls.

That summer was so hot, and if Dad ever put any clothes on it was only to go to the store or out to dinner. Even then he’d taken to wearing thongs exclusively and kept ordering new ones. It seemed like every day he’d get a new pair of slutty underwear in the mail. And he had no compunction about showing them off, even trying them on sometimes in the kitchen while I stood there. “Dang I love the pattern on this one,” he said, shucking off whatever tiny pair he already had on to reveal his big dangling dong. He slid the new pair up his legs, the strap disappearing between his big butt cheeks and landing against his hole.

“Looks good, Dad,” I said.

“You think?” he said, turning around to show me the twin melons of his ass, the whale tail of the thong peeking out from atop the cleft.

Finally I couldn’t take it anymore – just listening to Dad jack off every morning wasn’t enough. I had to see if I could catch him in action. When he left the house for his run I put on my bathing suit and staked out a position next to the pool in full view of our open-air shower. When Dad jogged in a bit later, panting and sweating with a boner as usual, he glanced over at me.

“Oh hey, Son. Early swim?” he said.

“Yeah,” I said. “Hot morning.”

“Sure is,” Dad said as he started the shower. He unceremoniously yanked off his shorts, bending over to reveal his thong-clad ass. Then he took that off and there it was: Dad’s fat boner, bouncing in the hot morning air as he stepped in the shower and let the water cascade over his body.

My cock was painfully hard as I watched Dad soap up, his boner never receding as he lathered his chest, arms and ass in slow, sultry moves that I would’ve thought were for show if I didn’t know Dad better. Finally he began to wash his balls and then his giant boner. I thought he’d move on, but to my astonishment Dad began to stroke himself.

“Dad, are you…” I said. He sheepishly glanced my way.

“Happens every morning,” he said as he continued to stroke his cock. “Gotta take care of it now or it’ll bug me all day. You know how it is, right?” he said. I was speechless, not that Dad seemed to realize or care. He turned his face to the sky, one hand chugging a steady beat on his soapy rod and the other sliding up his chest to tweak his nipples.

I’d had a feeling that my presence wouldn’t be enough to stop Dad from his morning ministration, but I hadn’t expected that he would take as much time as he did, alternating quick strokes with slow ones and copping feels of his soapy, hairy nuts, even dipping his fingers below his nuts as he worked himself up to orgasm. He acted like I wasn’t there, his moans getting louder and more intense as he got himself closer.

I slid my shorts off and freed my own boner. Dad was so caught up in his pleasure that he never even noticed as I jacked off with him, watching him intently fuck his soapy fist. His face became a grimace and with one forceful twist of his nipple between his fingers he directed his ready rod at the shower drain and began to cum, shots of thick load that streamed from his piss-hole like a water cannon.

I was moaning too as I shifted forward to blast my own load into the pool, eyes never leaving Dad who grunted like an animal in heat as he reached the apex of his pleasure.

And when he was done he just rinsed off and wrapped himself in a towel. “Phew!” he said. “Good run!” I dove into the pool, buck naked still and head reeling with what I’d just witnessed. Dad gave me a smile as he passed.

“Pancakes for breakfast?” he said with a smile.

“Sounds great,” I said, then sighed as he strutted into the house: just another day with my gorgeous, horny, oblivious dad.