My life with my dad has been nothing but rewarding. My dad is only 17 years older than me and how we came to live together alone is of no real concern or interest and a topic I really don’t care to talk about. All I can say is that my dad and I have grown together and have bonded in ways I am sometimes in awe of.
Dad grew up as a rough and tough kid who got into a lot of trouble. No legal problems mind you, just the kind of trouble rough, tough young guys get into. It seems that there was always some neighborhood father banging on my granddads front door complaining that his son (my dad) had beaten up his son in a school yard fight or a street fight. There were times when my granddad had to take on the irate neighbor and show him just why his son had lost a fight and gotten beaten up. It was simply that my granddad was a street brawler himself and passed on his knowledge of using his fists to my dad.
And dad had every intention of passing that knowledge on to me. So at a very young age, I was presented with a pair of boxing gloves. The beginnings of my training were not what most young boys experience, even when their dad is the one wearing the other pair of gloves. The first thing most dads teach their son’s is how to throw various punches; a jab, a hook or maybe a good uppercut. Not my dad. The first thing he taught me was how to TAKE a punch. The first day we had the gloves on he proceeded to plant that leather in my face and across my jaw. Not very hard, but hard enough for me to start wondering if I really wanted to learn how to box. He explained to me that I had to learn not to be afraid to take a punch, to get hit, especially in the face. That it was all part of being a good fighter. You had to be able to take a punch and give it right back to you opponent. Well, after a while, a couple of weeks I guess, I was no longer afraid to glove up with dad and box. He did of course show me all the punches, and how to throw them. And, of course, how to duck and weave and avoid being hit. All the while we trained together, he emphasized the point men, all men should know how to fight and defend themselves. By the time I was about 9 or 10, dad had constructed a boxing ring in our barn and thanks to all the training and sparring we did, I was what you might say, an accomplished boxer. That is what YOU might say. Dad said I was turning into one damn good fighter! He arranged fights for me with other kids my age at a local gym and I did pretty well. I didn’t win all my fights, but even when I lost, I was able to take the punishment without any tears. THAT is what pleased my old man. The fact that I was tough enough to take the punishment. OF course he was NOT pleased when I lost a fight. But he looked at it as a reason to train harder.
As I got older and into my teens, my record in the ring was almost that of an undefeated fighter. IF I did lose, it was usually to a guy bigger and with more ring experience. But I was loving it. And I used my boxing talents on the school yard. I visited the principal’s office a number of times for getting into fistfights on school property. And dad was always called down to take me home and “reprimand” me. Once in the truck, dad would just grin at me and asked me how the fight went. And what techniques or punches I used to put the other kid down. Dad just enjoyed it. He was a born fighter and he loved the idea that I was following in his footsteps.
Things really heated up when dad happened to see me in a fistfight in the park one late afternoon. The fight was pretty even, me and the other guy were really going to town on each other. Fists to the jaws, hard and heavy body shots and then the fight went to the ground. While me and this dude were rolling and punching, I managed to get the better of him. Got on top and landed some hard fists to his face. Drew some blood and was about to end it. But the guy managed to knock me off with a hard fist to my left temple. We both got to our feet and squared off again only to have this guy come in close and drive his knee up into my groin. My balls exploded in pain and I dropped. The guy grabbed me, pulled me up and slammed a hard cross against my jaw and put me down and out. My dad later told me how the dude looked down on me and smiled and drove his boot into my aching balls before he took off. When I came around, my dad was there asking me if I was ok. I assured him I was but that my nuts felt like they had be ground to a pulp.
That night after dinner dad and I had a chat about the fight. He asked me if that was the first time a guy had nailed me in the nuts. I told him yes and frankly he was amazed since low blows were a part of his own brand of man to man combat. That is when dad decided it was time to teach me how to street fight. Remember how I told you that my first boxing lesson left me wondering if I really wanted to learn to box? Well, you can imagine how I felt after my first lesson in street fighting. We headed out to the barn and took our shirts off and gloved up. Was a good give and take match. Both of us getting in some stinging jabs and some good hard punches to the jaw. We both rocked each other good. It was a great time. But then dad got me on the ropes. He dug in and worked my body with some solid punches to my abs and ribs. Pressing his weight on my chest as I leaned back against the ropes, I started to wonder how this was supposed to train me to be a better street fighter. Hell,we were having a great, by the rules, boxing match. Until I felt him press his pecs harder into mine and then there was an explosion of light and a searing pain that worked it’s way from my groin to my brain. Dad had just slammed his knee up into my balls and then pushed away from me and landed a perfect uppercut into my crotch. Seeing as we were fighting in jeans with no cups on, again I dropped to the canvas the way I did in the park only this time it marked the end of the fight. Dad did not bother to knock me out.
When I got my breath back, we had another chat. He told me that that is what to expect when you fight some guy on the street or in a bar fight. While I was slowly rubbing my now swelling ball sack, dad explained to me that with training I would be able to learn to withstand much of the pain of a ball shot, the same way I learned to take a punch. I asked him if he planned on punching me in the balls every time we boxed and he said, yes. I looked at him with a face that must have shown panic. But he just smiled and told me that I also had to learn to throw low blows so he and I would be trading nut shots from now on.
Now don’t get me wrong. My old man was not a complete sadist. When we boxed we always wore pro fight cups either under our trunks or over our jeans if it was an impromptu fight. So our new training session saw each of us going low on the other and slamming hard punches to the cups. It was amazing to me that although there was some pain from those punches, the cups did a good job of getting me used to taking and giving shots to the balls. One of the things I did not expect was the erotic feeling of my dad’s fist in my crotch. The pressure of his gloved punches was doing amazing things to my penis. After a few low blow fights with him, I started referring to my boner as my fight cock. And to be honest, it fucking turned me on to be slugging balls with my old man. One night after a pretty heavy training session with both of us going to the canvas from some low blows, I admitted to him that fighting like that boned me up in my cup. I got the nerve to ask him if it did the same to him. He just gave me a short laugh, stepped out of his trunks and pulled off his cup. Standing there buck ass naked, he showed me the inside of his cup. It was full of his spunk. He admitted to me that ball fighting always boned him up and doing it with me was such a turnon , that he actually shot a load while we were boxing.
After that our boxing matches/street fights took a different turn. While we were trading leather, we started talking to each other. We would be in a clinch and dad would ask my if my cock was hard, I would always admit that it was. I’d ask him the same. And he assuredly was. And then it seemed that we were not so much in a training mode, but more of a “ damn, I want to get my rocks off” mode. We would lean into each other and punch cups and grind our gloves against the hard bulges in our trunks till we both shot our loads. Later, after the fights, we would joke about it and later still in the shower we might actually jack off another load together.
All of what I am telling you is what makes me say that the way we bonded as father and son and as men was awe inspiring.
It finally came to a point that I had to learn street fighting without the gloves. So dad and I started to wail on each other in the ring with no gloves. We would fight in just jeans, no shirts and of course no cups. Bare fisted fighting with as much cock and ball work as we could stand without putting either one of us in the hospital. Needless to say, both of us would fight with raging hardons, punching and grabbin cocks and balls to get our opponent to give in. He taught me the value of spitting in a guys face or in his mouth and grabbin his hair and smashing his face on the ground or against a wall. There were many nights when one or both of us would cum in our jeans during these fights.
Eventually it came to what, I am sure many of you were expecting. Dad and I squared off one night in the barn..but not in the ring..just on the open floor and we had ourselves one hell of a bareassed, bareknuckle fist fight. We had both gotten to the point that we needed this fight. Two naked pumped up men going at it no holds barred. Have to admit it got a bit bloody and we were both in a bit of pain. Swollen eyes, cut lips bruises all over our bodies. But two men, only 17 years apart in great fighting shape had one hell of a good time. When the fight ended in a draw, we were both boned. Our cocks were at full mast and hard as steel. Panting and pacing around the barn floor as we tried to recover, we checked each other out. Dad looked fucking awesome…sweaty and bloody..and boned to the max. His gaze back at me told me he was thinking the same thing. We turned to face each other and set our feet firmly in the dirt of the barn floor and stared each other down. Without a word, we grabbed our raging cocks and started to stroke. Then slowly we approached each other and while we continued to jack off , we touched our mouths together and gave into a passionate kiss that I did not know two men could share. We let go of our cocks and wrapped each other up in an embrace that finally took us down to the ground. Dad broke the kiss and looked me in the eye and told me, “Son, there are other things that happen when two men go at it the way we just did”. And he got into position to take my raging cock in his mouth. My mind exploded as my dad sucked my cock for the first time. In all my 18 years, no one had sucked my cock and here was my dad bareassed with my fight cock in his mouth. It did not take long for me to go over the edge and blow my load in his mouth. When I finsished draining my balls in his mouth, he sat up and looked at me. HE opened his mouth to show me the load I had deposited on his tounge and then he swallowed it. I couldn’t believe it. He leaned in and gave me another kiss and I could taste my cum on his mouth..After the kiss he said, many men who lose a fight end up sucking cock or getting fucked buy the winner. I just wanted you to know that. I told him how great it felt but I also told him the he didn’t lose the fight..we ended in a draw….so the only fair thing would be for me to suck him off.. He just grinned and said, “ go to it son”. And I did. Sucked his cock and took his load and swallowed every drop. Needless to say, our relationship changed drastically that night.
We became lovers that night..both fight lovers and man lovers. Not a week went by that we did not glove up and box or just pull the shirts off and go at it out back with our bare fists. And of course each fight ended with some incredible man sex.

One summer day, when I was 20, dad and I were out working in the yard. We had been replacing some fence slats and posts that had worn down over the years. We were working right next to a small stream that ran through out property. Hot as blazes, we were sweating like pigs. Of course we were bare-chested allowing us to deepen the tans we already had… We took a break, sat under a tree and had a couple of beers. Relaxing in the shade, we talked about the job we had just finished and dad was saying it was rougher than he thought it would be. I just laughed and called him a wornout old cowboy. This of course got a rise out of him and he flipped me the bird and said, “wornout old cowboy,huh? I can still kick your ass son!” I said, “cool, I’m up for it if you wanna fight. Let’s do it”.
He got up and said, “You’re on boy. Get your ass up.” We both stood up and faced off..fists up and of course, both of us were starting to show some wood in our jeans… Being so close to the stream and knowing that we would probably end up in the water, I bent down to tuck my jeans inside my boots. Dad did the same. Now boned and ready, we circled each other…Both of us hot for the fight. I got in a couple of hard jabs to his face and staggered him. Not to be out done, he came back with jabs of his own. And don’t you know, that fucker almost broke my nose. I shot out a hard right back fist to his jaw that spun him around and I thought I would catch him with a left when he faced me again. Only as he spun around he came at me with his right and clocked me clean on the jaw..I went down to the dirt. He stood there with a smug look on his face and said, “ what’s the matter cowboy, you worn out?” I just said, “Fuck you old man” and lunged at him and sure enough, we ended up in that stream. Well with the heat of the day and the sweat we were building up in this fight, that water felt damn good. While we brawled in that stream, we both got a choke hold on the other.Both of us trying to choke the other out. That’s how crazy it got. We managed to get to our feet and dropped the chokes and traded blows to the face..We both backed off and checked each other out..Our Wranglers were soaked and huggin our bodies like a second skin..and our hard cocks were growin down our legs. We locked up again and I hit him with a hard punch to the cock. He recoiled and said,’ you goin low this early in the fight boy? Fine with me” and kneed my in the nuts. All the training he gave me in street fighting paid off..I was able to take that knee and keep fighting. We stood toe to toe and traded roundhouse hooks to each others jaws. We both knew that damage would be done if we continued at that pace. He came in close and locked up in a bearhug..both of us holdin on tight trying to squeeze the shit out of each other. Our crotches rubbed and we both had to stop to rearrange our meat in our jeans…both of us tryin to pull our cocks up the legs of our jeans and get em in an upright position . Then we slammed together again and rubbed those hard cocks together…Head to head..we trash talked each other…the typical shit..you know…”Cumon cocksucker..is that all you got, Fuck you man, gonna bust your fucking balls..gonna make you my bitch..” All the shit you hear if you stand around and watch a fight in the parking lot of a bar on a Friday night. But then the old man suggested as we struggled to take each other out, that the loser would not only suck the winners cock, but he would give up his boots. And I’ll tell you , next to my truck, my boots are my prized possession. But I did agree cause I thought the old guy was showin signs of weakening…
So we stood toe to toe trading hooks and crosses. Took it down to the ground and jack hammered each other in the nuts..I’m sure from the grunts and groans coming from the two of us that one or both of us shot a load . On our feet hard fists dug into tough muscle. My punches to his pecs and his nips were starting to take a toll . But he came back with an uppercut to my midsection that raised me off my feet and when I dropped, he dropped me with a solid right cross to the jaw.
By this time we were a mess..but neither of us wanted it to end. Facing off, I hocked up a good one and spit right in his face, as he wiped it away, a good left /right combo to his jaw rocked him and he went down…I bent down over him and grabbed his shaggy and sweaty hair, pullin his face up to mine and asked him if he had had enough..He told me to fuck myself so I landed another one hard across his jaw. He went down and out. I stood there for a few moments bent over his body and secretly prided myself for knocking my old man out in a fistfight. By the time he came to, I was leaning back on the fence we had been workin on , stroking my cock. I was right about the fact that I at least, had shot a load during the fight, as my crotch was slick with my cum, but I was boned and ready for the hot blow job I had coming to me. And just to make it all the better, while he was out, I took my dad’s boots off of him and put them on. He took his defeat like a man and gave me one of the best blow jobs of my life. And later that night when we were back at the house, I hate to admit it , but I gloated as I shined up those boots that were now mine and set them up in my closet. I did tell him that I wouldn’t wear them again until he decided to try to win them back in a rematch. I am happy to say, that after two attempts, those boots are still mine…But to be honest, I think my luck may be running out…..He really is one hot tough fighter. And if I have to lose a fight, I can’t think of a better man to lose to.

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