Nan met us in Chatham and we stopped in Orleans for an early supper and returned to Charlie's. I begged off of a card game and returned home; hoping that Mike might call. Then I remembered that he probably would not; I foolishly had not given him a phone card or any money and I knew he had very little if any cash of his own. Damn, I would have to give him an allowance.
Sometime after 8:00 pm I climbed into bed. Unable to relax or sleep, I began playing with my cock. Since my divorce, I had resorted to this form of relief often. With just the pointer and middle finger of my right hand, I began a gentle massage using my loose foreskin. With my left hand, I stroked my shaft and then began to gently work my balls. I prefer a "light" touch. I don't usually last a long time, but for some reason, climax eluded me. Fleeting visions of Mike, Paul, Charlie, Nan, Candy all chased across my eyelids. At times there were any number of combinations and activities. My finger wandered lower to my own ass crack and I raised my legs up and back. I toyed with my ring; teasing it with just the tip of my finger. My stroking became more vigorous. Speed increased and my grip tightened. There was still no relief. I was truly "beating my meat." I could feel my heart rate increasing; there was almost a sensation of pain along with the throbbing in my temples. Groans and moans came from deep in my chest and my body writhed on the sheets, twisting and turning. Just then, the phone rang. Out of breath and cross, I answered, somewhat breathless, "Who is it?"
"Hey Dad, how are you? What are you doing? How's Mike? What happened in Boston this morning: I know Mike was worried." It was Paul, not Mike. "What's wrong? You sound different." There was one question after another and then silence while he waited for me to answer.
I laughed. I continued to laugh till tears rolled down my cheeks.
"I"m not that funny, Dad. What the heck are you laughing at me for? His voice sounding low, deep and somewhat peeved, Paul again waited for an explanation.
"I haven't heard from Mike. I thought this call might be from him except he has no money that I know of and I was trying to jerk off with very little success. I was pounding myself into oblivion when the phone rang."
This time Paul laughed and said we would return to that subject later. He wanted to know what I had done all day. Without much detail, I told him Charlie and I had put up the boat and that Candy had sailed with us.
"Did they give you a show?" he asked. I answered in the affirmative. He asked about Nan and I told him that she had met us later. "If I had been there, I would have taken care of her!" he chuckled.
"Do you do women?" I blurted out.
"Hey Dad, I'm a hot-blooded Marine Stud! I could not help myself and told him he was full of shit. "No need to use foul language Dad; we don't do that." He scolded me. "The only time we use four-letter words in when we are making love," He giggled. It was not a feminine giggle; it was all man. "I'm lonely tonight dad; it was a 12 hour day. I want you to do something for me, OK? Lay back down on the bed and put the phone next to your ear." I had an idea of where this was going and told Paul I would do as I was asked. "I'm going to put you on speaker phone now."
"Are you listening Dad? I'm taking off my sweaty clothes. I smell MAN smell. After I left the office, I walked back here. I want you to smell me." I inhaled. I could almost smell Paul. Perhaps it was my own oder, but I thought of it as Paul's. "Kiss me Dad, use your tongue on me. Pick at my ears with it, Chew on my lobe, and then lick my neck." I made sucking sounds; I licked my own arm. I could hear the bed creaking under Paul. "AGgghhhhhhhh, Dad, That feels so hot."
"I want to lick your pits, boy; raise your arms for me," I whispered.
""Doing it Dad, work my man tit. I like rough tit play Dad, do it rough." I growled as my left hand began stroking my cock; my right hand played with my own now rigid nipples. I decided I did not like it rough; I like a soft, butterfly touch. It was working though. "Dad, lick my belly, please Dad?" Paul's voice was even deeper, almost harsh. I told him I would lick more than his belly.
"I'm going to lick your big cock head, boy. I'm going to stick my tongue right down your piss slit!" I growled. "with a hushed voice I continued, "And I'm gonna stick my fingers in you man hole."
"Take as much of it as you can Dad, take it all!" he panted. The sounds of bouncing bed spring and hands slapping cock shaft and head were ever increasingly louder. "Fuck me with your fingers, Dad, work my ass nut!" Paul panted. "Do it!" "Do it!" "Dooooo ITTttttttttt." "I'm Cumming." " AAHGHHHhhhhh, Fuck me DAD, Fuck me hard. Grab my balls and pull em Dad!" " AHHHHhhhhh AHHHHhhhhhh AGGHHhhhhh!" I made the same sounds as my man cock splatted juice all over me. Relief came.
I lay there breathless, panting slower and slower. I finally sighed, relaxation took over.
"Dad, are you OK?"
"Everything is perfect, Paul."
"Did you like that?"
"It's my first phone sex; yeah, I liked it. Thanks; I needed it bad."
"Not anymore than I did. Anytime Dad. Tell my kid brother I'll call him tomorrow to see how things went.
"I'm headed for the shower."
"Son, I loved it; and I care about you too."
"Dad, that's the first time, I think, that you called me 'Son". Good night, Dad." Paul's voice was emotional. Damn, he was, next to Charlie, the most masculine guy I had ever met; yet, there was a tenderness and valunerabilty there. The phone clicked off. I hung up and fell asleep.