The Photo Album

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Editor’s note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

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My mother passed away a few weeks ago. Being the eldest, most of the responsibilities fell to me, and I did my best to manage everything. My brother and I had agreed the family home should be sold and we would split the profits. Again though, as the oldest, I somehow ended up being the one who had to travel cross country and spend three weeks on my own getting the house ready to sell. My wife and my two little girls were not thrilled about it, but I knew what my brother Gavin was like. Even if I somehow coerced him into helping, he’d find a way to get out of it.

I drove my car up the old familiar driveway with a weary sigh. My mother was a great lady, but since my father died ten years ago she had kept the house exactly as it was. Which meant there was a lot of crap to get rid of. I decided to start with the rooms I wouldn’t be using- my mother’s bedroom, my father’s study, the garage, etc., and eventually I’d do the kitchen and my old room.

Mum’s room took most of the first day, but after a bit of a rest and an afternoon coffee I decided to start on dad’s study. I was multi-tasking, which I’m notoriously bad at, trying to move books and write notes while I was on the phone with the real estate agent. The piece of paper I was using slipped from my hand and fell behind the large book case I was clearing. If I hadn’t dropped that piece of paper things may have played out very differently…

Swearing, I got off the phone and proceeded to move the book case. I mostly pivoted it on one corner so it swung away from the wall, which is when I saw it. Behind the book case was a recess in the wall, and it was stacked with photo albums. My old man had never really been the sentimental type, especially not for photographs, and the family albums were still in the living room as far as I knew. Curious, I read the spines. Each one read ‘Boys Trip’ followed by a year. In some cases the same year appeared twice, and then they had a subtitle like ‘Snow’ or ‘Fishing’. I decided to open the earliest one I could find, dated 1979.

I knew the date from the spine, but it was still a shock to see my father looking so young. He was posed with my uncle and two other men I didn’t recognised. All four were standing in front of a large truck urfa escort filled with camping gear, giving big cheesy smiles and thumbs up for the camera. It was good to see him like that, to remember he was once young and full of energy. The next few photos showed him kissing my mother goodbye and the four men driving on a dirt road.

I turned the page and saw more camping shots. My uncle seemed to be the man in charge of the camera, as he was rarely in the photos. The next page was mostly hiking, setting up tents, things like that. The last picture was surprising though- the four men (presumably using a timer) had stripped to just their boots and were posed on top of the peak of the mountain, waving at the camera and flexing their muscles. I chuckled a little, but was also impressed by how they all looked. My dad and uncle had been enthusiastic sportsmen when they were younger, and it showed in the photos. I turned the page and that’s when my jaw hit the floor.

The next page depicted my father and one of the other men- a blonde guy with a beard- sitting around a campfire. From the angle of the photo I again guessed my uncle was holding the camera and was sitting on the other side of the fire. Between them was the fourth man, who had a wild red mane tied in a ponytail. He was mooning the camera, which again made me laugh a little. Clearly these guys were comfortable being nude around each other and it also made sense that my father may not have wanted my mother to see these shots.

The next shot, though, was less innocent fun. The mooning man was now side-on to the camera, still with his shorts around his knees and bending over. However the blonde man was now kneeling on the ground with his face buried between the redhead’s arse cheeks, a clear erection tenting his shorts. But the real kicker was my father, who had also moved, and was now standing in front of the bent-over redhead and was feeding him his hard pecker, a big grin on his face as he made a thumbs up gesture for the camera.

I slammed the album shut. I couldn’t believe it. I opened it up again, flipped through to the page and yes, there it was again. There was no mistaking what was going on, and my father was definitely hard, this wasn’t some elaborate prank. I quickly turned to the next page. The photos balıkesir escort went back to regular camping imagery- my uncle and the redheaded man were next to some fishing rods, holding up the fish they’d caught. I flipped back again. There, clear as day, was my father in an all-male three-way.

I closed the album, tried to process what I’d seen. My old man had never said or done anything in my life to make me question his sexuality. I thought about my uncle- he too was dead and even if he wasn’t, what would I have asked him? Did he and my father go off and fuck with two other blokes back when they were young? It was all too strange. I sat in the kitchen, with the closed album on the table, and poured myself a drink. Then another. Then another. Eventually I collapsed into bed, too drunk to do anything else.

As I slept, I had a dream. I was in the campsite, only I was sitting where my uncle had been, taking photographs of my dad and the two men. Then I was my father, enjoying a powerful blowjob, feeling a warm, wet mouth wrapped around my knob head. Then I was the blonde man, my tongue flicking and darting on the puckered anus in front of me. I’ve never had any kind of gay encounter in real life, but in my dream it was the sweetest-tasting thing in the world and I just wanted to lap it up. Finally, I became the redheaded man in the centre of it all, my sphincter being probed and slickened with spit, my mouth and throat being filled with cock. Again, I’d never done it in real life, but in my dreams the bell-end was warm and delicious. As I felt my father’s hand on the back of my head and a finger begin to enter my backside I woke with a cry. I discovered I had cum all over myself, which just confused me more. Surely, if I was going to have these kinds of feelings, I would have had them by now? I’m not homophobic, but I was, as far as I knew up until that moment, completely straight.

I stripped off and put my jism-stained clothes in the washing machine, then went to the kitchen to make myself a cup of coffee. As I stood there, naked, waiting for the machine to give me some much-needed caffeine, I eyed the album on the table. I had only looked at the first few pages, who knew if there was more? I resolved to get through the album and find out what was going trabzon escort on. From the looks of things it was an isolated incident, and the rest of the album would surely show that. That’s what I told myself anyway, but I could feel my cock stir and harden. Coffee in hand, I sat down, naked, at the kitchen table, and opened the album.

Most of the morning passed with me sat at the table pouring through this album. The rest of it was almost entirely innocuous camping photos, and I found myself flipping back to the incriminating photo several times just to check it was still there. However, two more shots did stand out, and caused my flagging pecker to rise again. The first was about halfway through the album, and showed my father and uncle down by the jetty, both with their pants down, with their erections pointing out towards the water as if they were fishing rods. The blonde man was standing next to them laughing and holding his actual fishing rod. Again, I chalked that up to blokes having a laugh, although it was a little more explicit than I would have gone for.

The final photo was on the very last page, put in out of sequence. It was taken from inside the tent and showed my father, naked on his back, with his legs spread. The redheaded man was also naked and on top of him, and they were making out. The light quality was not great, but you could just see the redheaded man’s penis half-buried in my father’s arse.

I don’t know what came over me, but I looked down and realised I was jerking my throbbing cock. At the same time, my free hand began to move up and across my thigh, then behind my nuts, and began to gently tease my own hole. Transfixed by the photo, I continued to put gentle pressure against my sphincter while I pounded my dick. I quickly let loose with a powerful orgasm, blasting cum all over the table and floor.

I sat there, spent, completely dazed and unsure of anything. Eventually I came to my senses, cleaned up my mess and made a decision. I wasn’t sure why my father had done these things, or why he’d kept photos of them, but I was determined to find out. And, I admitted, it was arousing me in ways I had never imagined. The clock showed there was probably time to get the other half of the study cleaned today, so I took my nude arse into the room and worked hard. Eventually, after the room was virtually bare, I went over to the recess in the wall, which I hadn’t touched the whole day, and found the next album in the series.

The second album sat on the kitchen table while I made and ate dinner and cleaned up the dishes. Finally, feeling I had earned it, I picked the album up and walked to the bedroom…

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