The Good Father (smoking)

I really try to be a good father.

But sometimes it can be difficult, like when my wife demanded "Honey, you have to have another talk with Robbie.  He was masturbating in the bathroom again this morning." 

"Well of course he was masturbating.  At his age, what do you expect?  Did you barge in on him or what?"

"I didn't have to see it.  I could hear him.  He was being noisy about it, thumping his arm against the stool or something, moaning, and he even let out a long squeal - just the way you do.  It's embarrassing for me to have to hear him.  You need to talk to that boy."

And that was that.  She had spoken.  So I agreed to have a talk with Robbie, and I knew it was going to have to be one of those serious man-to-man talks.  It is not easy being a good father, and it was not going to be any easier for me to talk to my son about sex than for him to confide in me about sex.  But it had to be done.  And at least I knew how best to broach the subject, for the one manly interest that we had in common was our fondness for cigars. 

Robbie had begun sneaking cigars from my humidor, foolishly believing, as only a teenager can believe, that I wouldn't notice when my biggest, finest cigars began disappearing.  But I hadn't been angry; in fact, the discovery had made me smile.  Oh, to be a kid again snitching the old man's cigars, but I was going to have to confront him about it.

And one day soon after, I had had the pleasure of setting him down and accusing him.  "You've been smoking my cigars, haven't you boy," I admonished sternly.  "Dad, uh, not me!" the boy stammered.  Oh, the fun it was to see that nervous, shaking look on his face turn to delighted surprise when I pulled out the humidor and freely offered him the cigar of his choice.  "Just don't tell your mom, okay?"

We spent that afternoon in my basement den, just Robbie and me, father and son, yet man to man, with our feet up, talking about sports, trucks, and cigars.

And Robbie had obviously already sampled quite a few of my cigars because he was completely comfortable with his big smoky Claro, flourishing it, rolling it satisfactorily around between his lips, enjoying the sensation, the weight, the feel, and contemplating the heavy smoke.  And he enjoyed trying to blow smoke rings as he lounged in his big easy chair, dressed in little more than his gym shorts, rubbing his long athletic legs together like the tall gangly teen that he had become. 

It had been a wonderful afternoon - that time we spent together in our smoke filled, all-male sanctuary, just Robbie and me.  And he knew that from now on, he was free to sneak my cigars anytime he wanted "so long as your mother doesn't find out," I repeated.  "Okay Robbie?"

And he had smiled around his immense cigar at me, clearly pleased with our secret agreement.  "Okay Dad," he promised. 

But that had been a couple months earlier, and it was now time to have another talk, a more serious talk, father to son, and this time the subject would be much more difficult.  Masturbation.  The sensitivity of the conversation would once again call for the natural intimacy of shared cigar smoke between like men.

Oh, but I had no idea . . .

"Robbie, get in here.  I need to talk to you about something," I said the following afternoon, and from the expression on his face, I could tell that he knew something was wrong, and a look of dread crossed his face as he solemnly took his chair.

"Now don't worry, Robbie; you're not in trouble."  Then I pulled out the humidor and he lightened up some.  "All Right Dad!" and he reached and picked out one of the massive 60 gages that he favors.  And I purposely selected one of the same.

While he watched me, I quietly cut my cigar and prepared it, then I handed the cutter to my boy and he went to work on his stick.  He knew what he was doing. 

"You know, son, your mom has been complaining again, and neither you nor I like to have her complaining," and he nodded in agreement.  I was applying my torch to the end of my cigar, and puffing the smoke out, bringing it to life as he watched me carefully, waiting to hear the rest.

Then it was his turn.  He had that wide cigar in his mouth, turning it slowly, and had the torch flaming it alive when I finally continued "your mom says you've been masturbating again," and he nearly dropped the hot torch into his crotch.  His eyes flashed with fear and his face turned a deep red.  Then he gave me a sheepish look, and he had no idea what to say, poor kid, so I rescued him from his adolescent embarrassment.  "Now, Robbie, it's okay.  I understand.  It's normal to want to masturbate at your age.  All guys do it.  It's natural."

He was immediately relieved.  The kid sighed a great cloud of smoke, and sank back into his chair and readily admitted "I can't help it Dad.  I want to jerk off all the time.  It feels so good.  I have to do it."  He looked like he had just confessed his innermost secret to me.

"Of course you do, son, and that's okay.  It's healthy.  It's just that you must not let your mom hear you; that's all.  You've been too loud."

Robbie put his fat cigar in his mouth and puffed a couple times and thought about what I was saying for a moment before agreeing "Yeah, Dad.  I guess you're right.  I am a little loud when I'm jerking off.  I usually let out a scream or two when I shoot.  I can't help it, Dad.  It feels so good when I'm stroking my meat, and my dick gets so hard, and I swear, my cum just shoots all over everything.  I can even hit the ceiling!  It's incredible!  But I'll try to keep more quiet so mom doesn't hear anymore."

I was a little take aback by all the added details of his confession, but I appreciated that he could be so honest with me, and I so kept my poise.  "That's all I'm asking for, Robbie," and I reached over and I gave him a firm, friendly pat on his shoulder, and an understanding, fatherly wink. 

And I mistakenly thought the discussion was over.

But he had more to say.  He looked at me for a minute over his cigar before deciding that he could confide in his old man even more: "sometimes me and the guys like to get together and jerk off in a circle; me, Brian, Allen, and Mark.  Mark has a really big, long, hard dick and his balls are really hairy."  Robbie paused, looking down at his cigar, running his fingers slowly back and forth along its full length.  "Is it wrong to jerk off around other guys, Dad?"

My eyebrows must have arched really high.  Okay, this was not what I had expected but I decided I'd better face it head on.  I try to be an enlightened father, and after planning my answer, I replied "no, it's not wrong.  It's normal.  It's all part of growing up.  Guys sometimes masturbate with other guys around because we like to share the experience.  But we don't ever let the women know." 

And I briefly thought about what he had said about his friend Mark.  Mark was his school's quarterback, a tall, muscular, good looking athlete, and I had noticed him when I had attended the games, practically unable to take my eyes off of him.  I admit I may have crossed my legs right about now.  Ooh boy.

But Robbie didn't notice; he just seemed so relieved to be able to finally open up to me that he went right on spilling his guts "and sometimes we stroke each other's dicks and that feels even better!  And sometimes we suck on each other's dicks.  Wow!  It's really hot!  And Allen is really good at it too."  He waited a second.  "Is it wrong to suck on another guy's dick, Dad?"

I sank back into my chair overwhelmed by the news, not knowing how to answer.  What is a father like me supposed to say to a question like that?  No, it's not easy being a good father, but I looked over at my Robbie boy with that innocent, questioning look on his face.  He just wanted to know if it was okay.  Then he placed that wide cigar back in his mouth, made a circle with his lips, and blew a smoke ring while waiting for my response.

For a moment, I began to wonder just how much he knew about me. Holy shit, what had he heard about me?  This was getting way too close for comfort, but I finally decided that it was all just coincidence and I put the worry out of my mind.

And I replied very, very carefully "No son, it's not wrong to suck another guy's dick, not if he's your friend and that's what you both want to do.  It's normal to want to explore other guys' bodies just as it is normal to want to explore your own body.  It's a healthy part of discovering your sexuality."

How's that for being a progressive father?  Damn, I needed a drink.

I was becoming exhausted by our man to man talk, but he just looked so relieved by my answer that he didn't want to stop.  "That's good because me and Brian and Allen and Mark blow each other all the time!  In the locker room, in the garage, behind the bushes - anywhere, anytime!"  He stuck his cigar proudly back between his teeth and he smiled at me before boasting "I can get Brian to shoot cum in my mouth!"

Okay, that was enough.  Discussion over.  Brian was a little, arrogant snot and I didn't approve of him being Robbie's friend.  There's only so much a father should learn about his son and learning that my Robbie was good at swallowing that flaming little jerk's cum was much too much information.  I waved my hand at my son to stop, indicating that our talk was absolutely finished.

And Robbie obeyed, at last becoming wonderfully silent.

So we sat there together for a long time in the much needed quiet while I recovered my composure, him totally relaxed back in his chair, feet up, rubbing his long, jock legs together while he toyed with his cigar, clearly glad to have had this little conversation.  Me - I sat feeling entirely exhausted but was also glad we had had The Talk, and also glad that the talk was now behind us. 

And I was finally having a chance to enjoy my cigar.  It was a really rich, fine cigar; the favorite smoke of both Robbie and me.  Robbie had good taste in cigars, that was sure, and it was good to be able to share this with him, and I looked over at my boy and felt a certain pride in him.  He's a good kid, my Robbie boy, no matter whose cum he swallows.

He had his eyes closed now, and he was slowly sliding his giant cigar in and out of his mouth, almost sensuously, way deep in thought.  Then he opened his eyes and he noticed me watching him, and he watched me watching him for a while before he spoke in his softest voice, offering "and is it also okay for a guy to suck his own dad's dick?"

My head fell back hard from the blast.  If it had been possible for me to collapse any further into my chair, I would have done so that instant.  Of course the answer was no; absolutely not.  Mark someday, maybe yes, but definitely not Robbie.  But I had to be careful how I told him this.  It was a very delicate matter to broach with my son and I wanted to have just the right tone of voice.  So I let out a long stream of smoke and lowered my cigar, and I looked him straight in the eye and I solemnly said no.  "It is not okay for a son to give his dad a blow job, Robbie.  It wouldn't be right," and I hoped that I hadn't come down too hard on the youth.

He just looked at me, expressionless.

"That's okay Dad, I understand," he said easily enough, taking it well, and he seemed to let the subject pass.  He took a moment to think about everything that had been shared between us, and he placed his cigar back in his mouth and rolled it softly around a minute, clearly enjoying the sensation of that immense, fat gage so firm within his lips. 

Then he let out a slow curl of smoke, and he looked right at me with that boyish grin of his, and said "that's okay Dad, I understand.  There's plenty of time.  I can wait."

Help.  I'm gonna need help.  No, it's not easy being a good father.