Dad’s Dirty Underwear For Sale Pt 1

I bought a pair of dad’s dirty underwear and he sucked my cock for free.

*****

“Did you fix it yet?” Dad asked over the kitchen counter, drying the cups he just washed off and storing them back in the cabinet.

He had asked me to ‘fix his e-mail’ on his laptop before serving dinner, he’s still that old fashioned kind of guy that insists on using an offline e-mail client, and he said it wasn’t downloading new messages anymore. You wouldn’t believe how much he complained about having to learn how to use Thunderbird, which is pretty much the only software for that worth its salt nowadays.

Anyway, here we are now.

“Not yet, Dad, you seriously screwed up big time this time around,” I said, looking at him over the laptop’s screen. I was sitting at the dinner table facing him, so naturally he couldn’t see what I was doing on his laptop.

Dad furrowed his brows and clasped his hands. “Come on, I need to work. Can’t you do it any faster for me?”

“Sorry, I think there’s a virus messing everything up. I may need some time to clean this. How about leaving it with me for the night? I’m sure I can get it done by tomorrow morning, ” I said. “Take my laptop if you want to surf the Internet while I’m at it. That cool?”

I actually could’ve used any other excuse and Dad would buy it. He’d have to. Dad isn’t the most tech savvy person you’ll know, and yet I’m surprised he managed to configure another e-mail account on the client on his own, and that’s exactly why I had to spend more time with Dad’s laptop. Fixing the client took me seconds and right after that I saw some really interesting messages destined to an account named ‘dirtybear_74@XXX’ pouring in.

He frowned. “I have to deliver a draft tonight, and I still need to finish it. That won’t do.”

I looked back at the screen. There were three threads, the oldest one dating from roughly a week ago, so I peeked at the first message of the biggest thread. It was about someone asking if a bulk deal could be done with about 4-6 worn out pieces at a discount. Now, an account named after Dad’s well formed bear bod and the year he was born was intriguing enough but at first I figured it might just be an alternate e-mail for him to sign up on some porn websites, but this is probably much, much more interesting. What’s Dad up to? After quickly glancing over the rest of the thread I quickly decided to put the screen down to not telegraph anything else to Dad. It wouldn’t be good if Dad finds out I had a boner while looking at his stuff.

I bent over to fetch my backpack sitting on the other chair and grabbed my flash drive from within. “I’ll save it here and send it for you and you can deliver it from my laptop. I’m sorry but that’s the best I can do, I won’t risk you using an infected laptop”.

At least I’m smarter than him at hiding the filthy stuff I tend to watch, so letting him log in to his account on my laptop would be no biggie.

Dad scratched his head and sighed, “Alright, but hurry up, I need to get back to work.”

“Trust me, it’ll be done my tomorrow.” I said and got up to give my laptop to him, then left to my room holding his under my arm. I’d still be at an advantage if it turns out to be nothing, at least it’s a good opportunity to watch some porn using his premium account.

*****

Dad was sitting on the couch in the living room finishing his draft, and I went to my bedroom at the end of the corridor, leaving my door slightly ajar as usual to avoid any unwanted attention. My desk was right beside the door so if Dad decides to barge in I have time to hide open windows until he turns around to see the screen. Now, back to that message thread. I began to wonder what the fuck that was all about while I read his answer:

Sure thing. I can vacuum pack each piece as they become ready so you can have them still “fresh”. I can make a 20% discount if you purchase all six, from $40 down to $32 a piece. Extras are still charged separately, with the same discount applied on top.

I wasn’t aware of any other services Dad provided besides his usual thing. Anyway, if I were him and I was selling some shit online under the ‘dirtybear_74’ e-mail account I wouldn’t tell my son about it either.

So I moved on to read the client’s response:

Wonderful, I’ll want all six, then. As for wear, three or four days is what I prefer. Can I get some piss drops? Some crotch stains would be nice too.

What in the actual fuck. Were they talking about underwear? They were, I was sure of it. Dad’s a nasty fucker, oh my. I didn’t see him bringing fresh clothes home often but in hindsight this might be the reason why I don’t remember a single worn-out underwear of his while doing laundry. Just reading this last message and thinking about them made my cock twitch. I’m used to wanking off to the scent my own filthy underwear and socks and, truth be told, some of Dad’s too, but this right here was some next level masturbation material.

You won’t get a strong sweat stain out of 3 to 4 days, mind you, but piss drops are totally fine. Do you want both in all of them? That makes $8 with discount for each extra, totaling $288 ($32 plus $16 for two extras per piece).

Ooof, that’s expensive. A single underwear with piss drops, sweat stains – from the Gym, perhaps? – and vacuum packed for delivery for $48, that’s without shipping. What makes it more interesting is that Dad already earns a fair amount of money while working as a translator. I rubbed the head of my cock with my thumb under my now stained gym shorts as I processed everything. I rub my pointy finger all over the stain and pinch it against my thumb, pulling them apart to make a thin string of precum. Damn, dad, look what you’re doing to me!

Make half of them with piss drops, and half with sweat stains, then. Can I choose the underwear?

At this point I immediately scrolled over to the next message to see if Dad attached some pictures to it. The rush of seeing my Dad’s cock was so strong I raised the right leg of my shorts up to the crotch and slid my cock out, as I was going commando tonight, to stroke it directly. If Dad came it’ll be well hidden by my desk, and I could still hear him walking the corridor soon enough to hide it.

And yes, Dad did attach some pics. There were 11 of them, all of him standing against his bedroom wall with a particular abstract painting in the background, each shot covering about below the chest line to the middle of his thighs. They were high resolution too, each with around 2MB in size, so one could zoom to his crotch without losing definition. In the body of the message it was written “Yes, I have these right now. The lighter colored pieces are better for piss drops if you want to see the yellow stains”.

None of the pictures had a hard cock covered by underwear, nor was Dad doing anything else besides standing upright, but god damn, Dad had a thick cock. I had noticed it before as he tends to wear tighter clothes than me but I hadn’t seen him in underwear in years, perhaps ever since Dad divorced Mom. In all the pictures Dad took care to arrange his cock on the horizontal, and it looks like he adjusted lighting well enough to delineate his bulge and belly perfectly, creating a nice visual pattern with his rough body hair. His brown skin was somewhat darkened in all photos as well, probably because of the lighting too. It wasn’t as beautiful as the original color but still too enticing. About half of the pics were of boxer briefs, white, gray and ocean blue, all of them with flies. The others were regular boxers, much more colored. All of them had vertical stripe patterns with one in particular having a horizontal, multicolored rainbow pattern. If I were this client I’d be all over the white undies. Yellow piss stains? Fuck yeah!

“How’s it going, Adrian?” Dad shouted from the living room.

I open my bedroom door a little and shout back “I’m waiting for the anti-virus check to finish, Dad. I’m doing a full sweep so it should take a while.” I hear Dad mumbling about something, probably cursing his laptop, then set the door ajar again.

The second thread was even more direct, asking for one brief and one used sock and then asking for pictures of the items. Dad was more creative on this one, he attached one picture with him lying down on his bed, laying his back on his pillows for some elevation. The shot was taken from above his chest, and featured him holding the base of his cock wearing a white sock, resting on his thigh. Again I couldn’t see a millimeter of his cock or balls but that image alone had me rubbing and stroking my cock for a while before diverting my attention to something else. This one ended with a deal, and Dad promised to follow up with a message when the package gets posted.

The third message had the client asking Dad to send a picture of his ass while wearing some underwear again. He sent one in the same position as the first ones, standing upright, so not too sexy besides his fat and round ass cheeks. The client proceeded to ask for more provocative positions, like him sitting on all fours, to which he rejected. No more messages then.

While looking at Dad’s crotch shots I keep thinking at how odd all of this is, as he’s quite a reserved person. He never walks around in towels or underwear at home, he almost always wore a shirt, save for when I stumbled into him walking to the bathroom after waking up, and the most revealing clothes I saw him wearing was his bathing suit; some loose shorts on top of his swim underwear.

Speaking of Dad’s body, by the way, If you saw me and him together, side by side, you’d have to squint to tell we’re related. I have Dad’s straight hair but the caramel color came from Mom’s, and I kept the general shape of Dad’s face and jaw, with well defined cheeks and dark eyes. Almost everything else was different. Dad had brown skin with hair all over, even on his shoulders and back, and he takes care of his luscious gray beard contrasting with the mostly black hair elsewhere while I had white skin with with light freckles on my cheeks and a soul patch together with buzz cut hair. I could never grow a full beard, and my body followed suit, with the exception of a timid bush of hair in the middle of my chest and my pubes I was basically hairless all over. Dad also had a round, firm belly that I used to sleep on top of when I was younger, and according to his photos when he was my age, he always were a round bear stud, with strong arms strangled by the sleeves of his tight shirts while I have a flat belly comfortably covered by S-sized shirts.

I wonder, did he sell other things? Perhaps selling socks filled with cum stains, maybe? A man can dream. That’d give my own pair some holidays from my regular masturbation sessions.

None of the threads had a reference to a website so I had to figure it out on my own. I tried reading his most recent browsing history and nothing there rang a bell, just the usual stuff plus the occasional gay bear porn. There’s not many bookmarks and none of them were related. I noticed he does keep two different browser clients installed, so I opened the other one – the one I never installed, mind you. Not only did I find it in the bookmarks as the first entry, under the name of “Big Bear’s Dirty Underwear”, I also found plenty of references to filthier varieties of porn in his browsing history.

I focused on the bookmark first. The website itself had a simple structure with a gray background and tons of purple as decoration colors. It had one simple title, “Big Bear’s Dirty Underwear”, a small block of text on the left describing how things are priced and to the right, occupying the rest of the layout, was a list of photos of already sold undies and socks on various configurations. Yes, there were some cheesy socks filled with cum, as there were also some briefs he came into, as well as dirty jockstraps, most of the items with a variety of stains. Then, at the end of the site, there was the email for contact, followed with instructions on how to order stuff, how it’s packaged to be delivered worldwide and how to pay for the orders. Also, shipping wasn’t included.

Did I tell you it has a custom domain? Yeah, it’s ‘bigbearsdirtyunderwear.xxx’.

I resisted the urge to cum thinking about Dad’s products and took my hand off my cock for a while to investigate a bit more. I opened another tab on the Wayback Machine and pasted his URL there. I wondered if it has any copies of it, and if it does, how long this has been going on. To my utter surprise there were almost weekly snapshots, the oldest one dating from seven years ago. That was before the divorce! Not only that, his e-mail account on the website hasn’t changed at all! The fucker cleans up his traces every once in a while, then.

I wondered if Mom knew. She’s a web designer and was the one who got me interested in computer stuff, so she’s definitely knowledgeable enough to purchase a custom domain, design the website and instruct Dad to keep separate browser profiles. I go back to his site, hit ctrl-U and try to find any of Mom’s signatures in it, like the comments she tends to leave on the code. There’s nothing, but then again, Mom’s too smart to leave her professional contact in a site like this. I can’t ask her directly either, not without being a creep. Not that I have any intention to tell anyone that I know, though, I have bigger plans in mind.

I also wonder if Mark, now Dad’s husband, knows about this.

I put my hands behind my back and tilted my chair back a bit, looking at the ceiling. Ordering some pieces from Dad wouldn’t cost me too much from my salary reserves, but I had to find a way to get the package delivered to me with no suspicion. I couldn’t ask my girlfriend to receive that for me, first off because Dad knows her address and also because she laughed and looked at me in disgust when I opened up to her asking her not to wash her cunt on the weekends. The other option could be to use a mail forwarding service, which would raise the costs but at least Dad wouldn’t suspect anything.

I was so deep in my machinations that I didn’t hear Dad coming up until he pushed the door, making me jump out of my chair to hide my cock back under my shorts.

“What was that about?”, Dad asked, in shock.

“Just daydreaming while waiting, Dad,” I answered while quickly closing tabs and moving windows around before he noticed anything. My cock was still hanging out of my shorts, behind the desk.

Dad kept looking at me with a raised eyebrow. “Well, I’m going to sleep. I trust this will be done by tomorrow.”

“Trust me, Dad, it will. I’ll sleep after I’m done.”

He gave me a pat on the head. “Good night, Adrian, sleep well,” and then left.

I closed the door with my foot and re-opened the closed tabs. A forwarding service would do, I’d only need a new email account. I got up to grab the trusty old sock in which I had come more than a dozen times, stretched it to feel the stains, pulled down my shorts and sat down again, smelling my own sock while gently wanking off. Creating the new e-mail account took me a minute, so I looked back at the website, glanced over the pictures once again and started drafting my message:

Greetings, I’m interested in buying one boxer briefs with some piss drops, one or two days of wear, and a pair of well worn socks with cum. Would you be able to do that for me?

And I hit the send button. That alone might end up costing me 150 bucks, shipping included. I could sneak in on Dad’s bedroom to snatch some for free but that would quickly raise suspicions, and besides I’d get this money back in one way or the other anyway. Also, if possible, I wanted to see his face when he discovers I was one of his clients.

There must have been more good stuff to find on Dad’s laptop, but it was too late to keep searching. I turned off the laptop, grabbed my screwdrivers, unscrewed his hard drive, and put it in my docking station, with a spare hard drive I had from a previous Desktop upgrade and started cloning it. I also set my alarm to half an hour earlier than the time Dad tends to get up to put his laptop back together. I moved to my bed with Dad’s website on my smartphone resting on my pillow, giving it a good sniff while stroking my Cock again.

Can’t wait to cum while sniffing the hell out of Dad’s finest produce.

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