Yes! That’s right! You would have thought he’d have the sense to go out and buy something else for this holiday after being told about my deviant nature. But no – Dad is a traditionalist and sticks to his Speedos, seemingly oblivious to the effect they have on me! He has several pairs, though the black ones are his favourites, and he fills them out disturbingly well: peachy at the back, his ass beautifully pert despite his advancing years; and bulging at the front with a heck of a big package. That’s another genetic gift that good old Dad passed on. I’ve got an eight inch cock and I reckon Dad’s is bigger… At least in my sordid fantasies it is!
Yeah, I know. It’s bad!
But I reason it’s bad in a harmless sort of way. I bet loads of gay lads wish they could see their dad’s erection, or at least they would if they had a dad like mine. I bet they’d want to see his flaccid meat dangling long and fat, and watch as the cock filled with blood to stiffen into a towering great phallus. It stands to reason they would stare, totally entranced, as he jerked on the thick creamy shaft and toyed with the big purple knob at the end, smearing it with the juice that seeped from the eye. And what a treat it would be to see the balls churn about, then rise in their sac as they prepared to explode. What lad could resist having an eyeful of my dad as he tossed back his head and let out a groan whilst a thick rope of spunk shot out of his slit, followed by another and another, till the horny big bugger was drenched in his mess and totally spent. Would it be such a sin to watch such a thing just because that spunk was genetically linked?
Extract from SAILING WITH UNCLE SAM