My Chronic Masturbator Dad CMNM

I love my dad. Dad moved in with me back in the spring. He, at the ripe age of 63, git a divorce from my mom and had to move in with me, his 36-year-old son. At first I was trepidatious; having been a bachelor this long, I was accustomed to my own space in my little ranch style bungalow in the suburbs. I work as a lawyer and can afford my own home so I didn't care if he paid rent, but I made Dad promise to help around the house as much as he can now that he's both single and retired early. For the most part, he kept his side of the bargain.

I am the spitting image of him, only taller, younger, and with a stronger build. Dad was balding; the patches of silver hair he had matched his walrus mustache. His tiny spectacles made him look smart, as a former college professor, that was fitting.

I had come home early one day, setting my briefcase by the door and taking off my tie. I had called out to Dad, but he didn't answer. I made my way through the living room and kitchen, down the hallway, checking all the rooms. The door to the basement was open. Lights flickered from down the wooden steps. I made my way down, listening carefully and stepping gently as to not make noise. I could hear something squelchy, wet and fast. And another sound, something growly and low, it was my dad moaning.

I stood at the bottom of the steps in the dimly lit basement. Sitting at the computer desk with his headphones on was my dad. He was fully nude and his fat, red, erect penis was gripped tight in his hand. He was masturbating to porn videos of women being gang-banged. Big, throbbing cocks fucking in and out of holes and mouths, leaving heaving, gushing wads of cum behind.

I stood there in complete silence, watching his hand work his shaft and head, his hairy, sweaty balls bouncing; his moans grumbling with intense focus. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. My belly stirred with warm butterflies at the sight of him. His sweaty, hairy flushed and aroused body. I could have stood there all night until he saw me, he was so enraptured with his own cock. But I flipped the light switch anyway and the room lit up.

Dad turned, dumbfounded and red and sweaty. He hurriedly turned off the computer and threw off his headphones. He shot up from the drenched computer chair, pink with embarrassment, covering his boner and balls with both hands.

"Sonny," he said, shocked. He was trying to catch his breath. "I didn't know you were home."

"Just got back early," I smirked. I nodded to his groin. "What are you hiding, Dad?"

Dad looked down at his boner as if it were a strange creature he had never seen before. "Please, Son, I, um, I--" he was completely flustered.

I cocked an eyebrow, giving him a minute to gather himself. "You were doing this in my home, at my computer?"

"Please, Sonny, don't tell your mother," worry creased his face now as he reached out to me with one hand, his cock peaking out from behind the other one. "She'll tell that bastard lawyer of hers and it'll ruin me."

I didn't want to hurt my dad, I was mostly just surprised by his behavior. "I won't," I said, holding my hand up in surrender. "But you need to be honest with me always, Dad."

Dad nodded. "Yes, of course, Sonny. Anything."

"Is this what you do while I'm gone all day?" I asked, a smile breaking through my firced seriousness. "Just sit around naked and play with your pecker?"

He got embarrassed and looked at his dick again, as if mentioning it shone an invisible spotlight on it. "I mean, I do pick up and do chores first," he said. "But sometimes I do it during."

"You jerk off while cleaning?" I couldn't help but take in his full body now, hairy and strong for an older man, with a thick bush. The fiery butterflies swirled in my stomach again.

"I can't help it." Dad seemed more relaxed now, but there was a tinge of electricity to his words, like he was excited. "You know how it is when your penis takes over. I can't help it."

I stepped closer to him, standing in front of him, still examining my naked father. "Is this why you and Mom divorced?"

Dad shook his head. "No -- yes, but no, not exactly. She said I was becoming a recluse, spending too much alone time in my den. She said she felt abandoned, but I couldn't help it. She didn't know what I was doing. I love her, I really do, but I just love my penis more. No woman could understand this, Son. I really can't help it, it's like a compulsion. I can't stop jerking off."

I gently pulled Dad's arm away, revealing his red, veiny, hard boner and fat, hairy sac. Dad let out a near-silent whimper at being exposed to me. We both looked down at his penis. I had seen his penis a few times before, a couple of times in the YMCA men's locker room when we'd go swimming, and once or twice as he got out of the shower; a plump acorn in a nest of pubes. Now I was face to face with his erection.

"Are you angry, Son?" He asked gently.

I shook my head. I crouched down on my haunches to get a closer look at his greasy boner. He had slathered it in coconut. I could smell it and see the jar on the desk.

"You really love your penis, huh, Dad?" I looked up at him from in front of his boner.

Dad nodded. "More than anything."

"And you really can't stop jerking off?"

He shook his head. "It's constant, Sonny."

"I won't tell Mom," I said. "But you can't wear clothes around the house anymore, and if you're gonna be a chronic masturbator, you need to devote yourself to it. No more hiding down here in the basement; I need to see it and know about it." I pulled my phone from my pocket and snapped a pic of his dick.

"Son, I--" Dad began.

"This'll be your new contact picture, so when you call it'll be the first thing I see." I grinned.

A mix of emotions -- embarrassment, shock, arousal, disbelief-- all swirled on Dad's face. "Oh, Son, I don't know how to thank you."

"Yes, you do," I said, standing back up. "You jerk off."

Dad cautiously grabbed his dick, nervous to have his son for an audience. I watched his greasy hand slide up and down on his shaft, watching the pleasure make his face twitch. The manly smell of his body was intoxicating.

"Come on, Dad, jerk off for me," I instructed him with a tone reminiscent to how he used to coach my baseball games growing up; stern yet supportive.

Dad moaned.

"I know you can do it, Dad, stroke that dick like you mean it."

He bit his lip. His palm twisted over and under his hard dick head.

"You said you were a chronic masturbator," I reminded him. "I wanna see you live up to that."

He nodded as he exhaled long. His face was red with dick delight.

"You said you love your penis, Dad. Say it again for me." A smirk curled across my lips watching as he wanked in front of me.

"I love my penis so much, Son," he groaned. I could see he was close.

"You love masturbating?"

He nodded profusely. "I love masturbating more than anything in the whole world," he said, his face red as he pumped hard.

"Keep going, Dad," I encouraged him.

Dad whimpered. "I love my penis, I love masturbating. I love my penis so, so much! I can't stop jerking off! I don't wanna stop masturbating my dick! Oh, Son, watch me jerk off. Watch me masturbate!"

Dad growled.

I stood in awe as I watched him shoot a fat wad of jizz in the air as he stroked on his boner.

Something changed in Dad after I watched him cum. There were no more inhibitions. I kept all his clothes in my room from then on. He didn't mind. He now spent all day fully nude. He was jerking and cumming all day long as he picked up the house, tidied and did dishes. He was cumming constantly and like a fountain. I think I had given him the premission he needed to love his dick like he always ached to but couldn't when he was married. All under my watchful eye, of course, but he didn't mind.

He wasn't exaggerating when he said he was a chronic masturbator. Dad jerked off at dinner, while watching football, and on the treadmill.

"I used to masturbate at the college," Dad had confided in me one night at dinner, spaghetti on his plate and his cock in his hand. "I'd pull my cock out under my desk and stroke myself stupid, sometimes even during class. Luckily I never got caught."

"Until now," I teased him.

He slurped a mouthful of noodles as he shot hot jizz down his thigh.

"I love my penis, I love my penis, I love my penis." It was like a mantra to him now, that phrase. He stood in the bathroom mirror, jerking and cumming on his reflection.

Sometimes I get bored and watch him, like he's performing for me. I've become very fascinated by his penis; its veins and curves, it's like an artwork to me now. Sometimes too, I'll have him stand in my room at night as I drift off to sleep, the comforting moans of his jerking.

With the soothing sounds of his stroking cock and masturbation panting, and his cock inches from my resting face, Dad stands by my bedside jerking his boner.

"Good night, Dad," I say.

He moans with pleasure. "I love my penis."

I love my chronic masturbator dad.