Daddy came out of the shower wearing only a pair of old boxers. He'd been doing that a lot since Momma died, not being careful about clothes when he got off the job and took a shower to wash all the grime and dirt from his body. I liked the way he looked when he came through the door like that, his broad shoulders sunken from weariness, his strong-lined square jaws smeared with oils or black grime of some kind every time, his eyes weary, but a smile as he saw my face. "Hello, killer." he always said to me as he set his dirty lunch-box onto the table near the door, his big thermos that held the three cups of coffee he drank during his work day and now empty, the two items standing there looking like a round-topped barn and large gray grain silo next to it, and above it, this vision of strong, handsome man like a god in charge of the universe (I'd seen such an image in a book at the library and the man in it had looked a lot like Daddy except for being gold-haired instead of deep brown like my dad's and being squeaky clean and white-gowned instead of clad in a dirty red-plaid shirt and faded blue jeans and wrinkled foul-smelling workboots.)
"Good evening, Daddy." I said to him in turn.
"You have anything to eat yet?" he asked like he always did.
I nodded. "Uh-huh. Some cookies when I got home from school, but that's all." I was nine years old and Daddy had agreed I no longer required a babysitter in the hours between school letting out and his coming home some four hours later. I was a good boy and stayed indoors, watched television or did my homework or played games on my Gameboy as I waited for Daddy to get home.
He just nodded himself. "Okay, then, dinner in a half hour or so. Got to wash up, first."
"Can I fix us a pizza?" I offered. "I can do it." We had four or five ready-made frozen pizzas in the refrigerator freezer, I was only offering to unwrap it and put it in the oven.
"What's the temperature?" He asked.
"Four hundred and fifty." I said.
He nodded. "Go ahead. Sounds good to me, too."
Daddy knelt down and I gave him a hug and he did the same, his big lips kissed my soft cheek and he got back up again (I would have hugged him longer) and he stood and looked almost lost, then staggered toward the bathroom.
I fixed the pizza and Daddy came out just as I was cutting it up with the big kitchen knife we kept mostly for just this, a wide broad blade on it, but not very sharp, it was like a pizza cutter of the sort they use in the restaurants, and he grinned. "Good boy." he said approvingly as I wielded the blade and cut the pizza into six mostly-equal sized pieces. I took two for me and gave him four, because as he pointed out, he was twice as big as me, maybe more, and he sat at the table with his legs spread wide and his boxers pee-slit pointed upward, gaping open. I liked that because sometimes I could see his wiener lying inside like a large, brown cat asleep. Daddy saw me peeking but he just grinned and let me look at those times.
Today, though, I didn't see anything but some brown hairs and a big of his leg so I concentrated on looking at Daddy's face. He and I talked about our day, me mostly and him making comments about it, but he told me about the guy who had slipped on some wet mud near the site "and fell back on his ass, and had to walk around all day with a brown butt, two big ovals, one for each butt-cheek." We laughed about that and I loved to hear Daddy's laugh, all strong and confident and rich and free.
Afterward, we watched TV for a half hour, me cuddling under Daddy's big, strong arm, and I kept one hand on his powerful, muscle-rippled chest, moving it a little now and then. If I did that too much he'd push my hand away, so I was careful and he'd let it stay. And I could feel his muscles move as he lifted his beer with his other hand and drank, his throat moving up and down with each swallow. He only had the one beer each night he worked, with an extra on Friday nights, then we'd go to the grocery store and pick up another twelve-pack. He'd have six over Saturday and Sunday, one at a time spaced out, leaving six for the next week.
But it did make him yawn even more by the time he'd finished.
Done with that, he yawned a big yawn and said, "It's your bedtime, killer. I think I'll turn in now, too." Daddy had to get up real early in the morning, and would be gone by the time I woke up, but he was careful to keep me with cold milk and cereal to eat for my breakfast, and we had a woman who came in twice a week to wash the dirty dishes and keep the house clean for us while Daddy was at work and I was at school. I had a number of the neighbors to call if I needed help, but I hadn't had to do that very much. And Daddy's work number if I had to call it, but Daddy warned me that was only for very big emergencies "Only call it if Mrs. Miller says to." Daddy had said. I hadn't had to do that yet, and hoped never to have to.
"Okay, Daddy." I said and jumped up to get ready for bed. I had to wash my face and hands (body, too, if it was dirty), and get into my briefs I wore only for sleeping. Done, I presented myself for my Daddy's inspection (he was yawning big by then, usually) but he would check me over and make sure I was ready and then make me go to bed, where he'd tuck me in and brush my hair back from my face as I lay on the pillow, I'd grin and would he and he'd say, "Sleep tight, Son."
"You, too, Daddy." I'd reply and he'd lean down and give me a kiss on the lips, the only time he'd do this, a quick peck and that was all, and then he'd go to the door, turn off my room light and leave the door cracked open so a bit of hallway light could get in.
I lay on the bed, my heart beating firm and fast. My special time was almost ready.
Daddy would be in bed in no time. He pretended to sleep in his boxers, but I knew better, he'd get under the covers and slip them off there and put them under his pillow, so he could fetch them in a hurry if he needed to. On a hot night like tonight, he wouldn't even pull the sheet over his body, just sleep on top of them, all spread out and looking like a long, tan-colored panther in slumber.
I gave him a half hour, then I got up and slipped out of my own briefs, left them in my own room. Once I had forgotten and left them behind in Daddy's room and barely managed to grab them while he was busy in the bathroom the next morning.
Daddy's own door was kept slightly ajar as well, just a small crack that didn't show much of anything unless you got right up to the door. But you could (as I did) push it open slowly and it wouldn't creak because I'd gotten my neighbor to oil the door hinges for me.
Daddy was asleep. I'd learned long ago he didn't wake up for much but I was careful even so. Long experience at this had made me able to creep in without a sound, avoiding the big workboots lying on the floor, and creep up into the bed. It gave way and that moved Daddy some, but he didn't wake up as I got fully onto the bed.
Daddy's chest was rising and falling so slowly, just a little. His eyes were closed but not squinched shut, his mouth was open, small sounds that weren't quite snores slipped from them now and then. His cheeks were taut and square and held just a bit of shadow of his beard. Below that, his chin was a proud mound that stared over the broad mounds of Daddy's breasts like an emperor. His head was slightly back and both arms were lying to either side, one hand down to almost his hip, the other making almost a right angle with the elbow. The chest as I mentioned was two broad, oblong mountains tipped with small brown nipples that were ringed with the fur of his chest hair, enough to make his body beautiful but not covering the lucscious tan-toned skin beneath. His arms were a darker brown where he'd roll up his shirt sleeves to work, the place where he stopped rolling a sharp border to the regular tone of his body always covered, he also had a triangular area reaching from the tanned neck down to a nearly sharp point just above the crest of the line between the breasts, pointing as it were to the valley they formed. Below these broad, lush chest muscles were a series of gently rolling hills of more muscles, less hairs adorning these, until as they petered out near his stomach, when they jumped out of the navel that made a small nearly invisible dent in its center and began to expand and darken as they marched toward his manhood.
That was what I had my eye on. Daddy always slept like this, his cock lying on his lower stomach instead of down at his legs or lying on his testicles. I think he got into bed and when he was in position, he'd reach down and grip it, pull the long limp flesh up and lay it like that, so his entire body could breathe and revive in the cool night air. His legs, too, were apart so that his balls would also enjoy their chance of freedom and clean air and even some morning light before they had to return to their jail cell of his shorts and trousers and crushed into silent obedience save for those rare opportunities to glimpse the outside when he took out his cock to take a leak in the port-a-potties on his job.
I looked down at him, and carefully snuggled myself up under that one outstretched arm to fit my body into the warm, warm armpit. As I did, I put my hand on his breast, there was a place there he never let me touch while awake, his central breast and its nipple, now the gentle brown nub was mine to touch, to feel its small firmness as it stiffened in my hand, to become a small, moveable button of Daddy's flesh.
And Daddy slept on.
My upper leg I also reached over to put it on top of Daddy's upper thigh, and as my leg rounded that soft, warm, hair-covered flesh, my knee encountered there the lush bush of his pubic hair that adorned his rich sac of his testicles. The soft fur wrapped my knee like a coat as I gently pushed it in closer, the balls trying to roll each to one side. My hand brushed his soft chest, abdomen and side, feeling the hard muscles now at rest beneath the skin, feeling the warmth of Daddy's body. My lips tasted the soft skin above his closer breast, they gave off a gentle flavor of Daddy's oils, his essence in liquid form a light, barely-there film over the skin, and as I licked at it with my lips and tongue, the oils gave themselves to me.
Daddy gave a soft moan in his sleep, stirred ever so slightly, then was still again. I moved my hands up and down his body, harder now, for Daddy was truly asleep and if he had moved more, I would have known I'd wakened him and hurriedly but softly slipped away. But pizza made him sleepy every time, I hadn't had to flee once in the times he ate it for his last meal before sleep. He did not wake up this time either.
Bolder, I moved and more of my body lay on Daddy's, and my legs now straddled his larger leg, one between his and the other still outside, and my cock brushed against the warm, soft, hairless skin around his upper hip, a muscle there pulsing softly against my hardening little-boy dong.
And Daddy slept on.
Deep in his slumber, Daddy sighed, his mind dreaming and my hip pressed against his dong still lying on his lower stomach and as I pressed against it, Daddy sighed again and his cock stiffened up. I'd worried about this at first, but had learned it only meant Daddy was having a nice dream and no matter how much I rubbed it, and how hard it got, he would sleep on and never know I'd been there.
I kissed Daddy's nipple as I got fully onto his body, now I was astride him and my full weight was on him as he slept. Both my hands now could stroke over his arms and shoulders, his ribs, his breasts as I kissed the middle space between, my face first reached up to kiss my Daddy's lumbering lips, his open mouth preventing no obstacle to me reaching my tongue inside to lick at his tongue and brush his dried-out teeth and lubricate his drying inner mouth with my saliva. I was not only the donor here, as the flesh remoistened, it released to me a rich flavor of its own that I gratefully harvested and savored. It tasted of Daddy, the way his kisses tasted as I licked my daily ration off my lips after he deposited it on mine each night.
And Daddy slept on.
His hard cock was now poking its glans at my own nuts as I kissed down his body, his chin, the stubble of beard giving it a rough texture like sandpaper, but a sandpaper warm and beautiful. Down the neck where the beard played out and vanished, leaving only the skin, tender and supple and flavored of masculine musk, the throat vibrating slightly as his almost-snores continued unabated as I loved on him, I roved and roamed and enjoyed the pleasures of my Daddy's body, all of it splayed out for me to enjoy, to play upon, to relish, to love.
And Daddy slept on.
As I moved down more, my balls rolled over the glans and the shaft of Daddy's stiffened dong still lying on his stomach, and my own prick stiff on top of it and I paused. A shudder of delight raced through my senses and I felt the pud throbbing beneath my own. And Daddy sighed again, a little deeper, his throat mumbled noises that I think were words in his dream, he was talking and the words, though I could not hear them, were words of love.
And Daddy slept on.
My little hips moved to rub my smaller weiner over his bigger one, my balls played on the bottom of the shaft and top of Daddy's testicles in their warm velvelt sac, I rubbed and every rub was joy and every move was delight and every sensation was warm, warm, so warm, so much loving, so much love, I love you, Daddy, I love you so much, so much, so, so, so much!
And Daddy slept on.
My breath began to rush out of me in panting sounds like a hot hound resting on the porch after a run in the summertime, I looked down at Daddy's sleeping form, his eyes still closed but not squinched together, his mouth open, his cheeks taut, his brow unfurrowed, soft and gentle and vulnerable, powerful in slumber, strong in sleep, great in repose.
My rubbing became frantic, my need overpowering all my sense and my carefulness, I was caught up in my joy, in my need, in my love for my Daddy, and I feared in the back of my brain that Daddy would wake up, would see me, would become angry and forbid this in future, I feared but I was in my building rapture and could do nothing more than hope that this time, please, one more time, let my Daddy sleep on!
My glory crashed into my brain, my eyes blurred as I looked at Daddy's face, unmoving, unaltered, eternal and glorious as my joy, and I was shaken to my very core as my joy overwhelmed me and I moaned, caught myself and stifled my further cries of ecstasy and when it was done, I felt weak and I lay full upon my father's body once again, exhausted and weak, but safe in my Daddy's warmth and nearness.
And Daddy slept on.
I finished my exploration of my father's body the way I always did, I got down to his crotch and found the still-hard dong there, now sticky with my sweat and I licked the soft velvet-feeling skin of his dong over and over until it was clean, more, it was soaked with my saliva and glowed in the small light from the hallway and half-opened door, and noticing a silver gleam at his cockslit, I smiled and dove in and gathered this small tribute. My Daddy did this now and then, he would have a dream while I loved him and his cock would make this small gush of rich flavorful juice. I knew enough to know that this wasn't from a full climax, but what they call "nocturnal emissions," where the male body, dreaming rich lush dreams of sexual joy, gushes forth some of its liquid production, and I licked carefully at the glans now smeared with the clear sticky fluid, then pulled his foreskin open and dug into it and cleaned that as well, and the movements made my Daddy moan and more of his fluid gushed out and I took that as my reward for loving well-done. Done, satisfied, I rose up onto my knees and looked down at my Daddy.
Still asleep. Another night of happiness and secret joy with my Daddy successful once more, and regarded my Daddy. Odd, how after all that, he remained as he was, unchanged, unmoved, his body in the same position as he'd been when I'd started.
Then his lips closed and they formed for a moment a small smile and I knew he was dreaming a very happy, happy dream. The smile went away and he returned to the Daddy I had first seen that night.
I got up and off the bed, careful not to shake it too much. Looked down at my Daddy and then went down and cautiously kissed one soft cheek like he'd kissed mine when he got home. "I love you, Daddy." I said, but I whispered it very, very softly. Then I went to the door to the hallway and looked once more back at my Daddy. Tomorrow would be another day of school for me, and work for him, and when night came again, I would return. I turned back to face forward, walked out and pulled the door back to almost-shut like it had been before. Sleep well, Daddy, sleep well!
And Daddy slept on.