“Big smiles, studs,” I directed my son Bryce and his two best buddies, arm in arm, as I held up my phone to take their photo on the windy beach. The three of them had fucked their brains out the night before in the beach house that I had rented for the weekend. Little did I know, I would soon get in on the action.
High school had been rough for my son Bryce. As the only gay boy in a small, conservative school, he had a hard time fitting in. But college changed all that. By the end of his freshman year, he had two best buddies, Preston and Jax, who were also openly gay.
The three boys weren’t a throuple, my son was quick to point out—there was nothing romantic between them. They just liked to hang out by day and fuck each other senselessly by night. Kids these days.
It was Bryce’s idea to invite Preston and Jax to join us for a beach weekend for my fortieth birthday, and I readily agreed. Recently divorced from Bryce’s mom, a boys weekend felt like a great way for me to celebrate a new chapter in my life, and for Bryce to get some quality time with his buds.
The boys weekend seemed like a good idea—until I spent the first night wide awake until 2 am, listening to the three studs having a fuckfest in the upstairs loft. Three hours of raw, animalistic sex, like something out of Lord of the Flies. Grunting, moaning, pounding, skin slapping skin. It was like a porno was being filmed upstairs—and I wasn’t invited.
Was I angry? Of course not. Boys will be boys. And I was glad my son had found his group—and was getting his rocks off so spectacularly.
But was I jealous? Fuck yes. I hadn’t had sex in over a year, not yet ready to forge into the dating scene after a messy divorce with Bryce’s mom. It was depressing to be turning forty—my sexual prime—and the only action I was getting was with my right hand.
But standing there on the beach that morning, I was happy for my son and his two best buddies as I snapped their photo, even if they had kept me awake the night before. And I was looking forward to celebrating my birthday with the three boys that night. Bryce promised it was “gonna be lit.”
We started with dinner at the crab shack just over the bridge, followed by cake back at the beach house. Bryce kept alluding to some “awesome” gift he had planned for me, but I forgot about it when the boys produced a bottle of tequila and insisted that we do shots.
I can’t hold my tequila, never could. But I couldn’t allow myself to look like a pussy in front of my son and his buddies. I didn’t want to be a party pooper. And so, with the boys, I downed six tequila shots in rapid succession.
Things got murky for me after that. I must have blacked out at some point. I had a vague recollection of being dragged to my bedroom, succumbing to the sweet bliss of a drunken slumber in my bed.
The dream was vivid. I was in bed with my ex-wife—an absurdity, as I hated the bitch. And she was sucking my big cock—also an absurdity as she always refused to go down on me. In the dream, I looked down at her as she gobbled lasciviously on my big dick, moaning, sucking, and slapping it against her cheek. It was the best head I’d ever had—real or not.
But then something happened. The dream started to fade as reality crept into my psyche. I was suddenly awake, shocked to find my ex-wife was only an illusion. Yet one thing was real. My cock was definitely being sucked—by my son’s buddy Preston.
“Mmm yeah,” Preston moaned, saliva stringing from his lips to my hard cock, his hand gripping it at the base. “I fucking love a big dick.”
“I want a turn,” demanded Jax, who had been sucking my nipples, my chest hair matted with his saliva. “You’re hogging that big cock.”
My mind reeled as Jax switched places with Preston. Jax was soon deep throating my dick, my balls mashed against his chin.
“Where’s Bryce?” I asked, my voice horse from sleep and alcohol, my eyes scanning the dark room, terrified that Bryce would be angry that I was hooking up with his buddies. “Where’s my son?”
“Shhh,” Preston hushed me, his finger to my lips, his tongue licking my neck. “Don’t worry about Bryce. He’s in bed. Just enjoy the ride.”
Preston’s lips moved to mine, kissing me deeply. Our tongues danced as Jax continued to suck me like a Hoover. Then there was a pause, a change in pressure on my cock. Jesus, it felt incredible—unlike any blowjob I had ever received.
I disengaged from Preston’s lips, eager to look down at Jax sucking my dick, wondering how he was able to make my cock feel so amazing. The answer was unexpected—Jax was riding me.
“Fuck yeah,” Jax moaned, his head tipped back in ecstasy, my big cock up his ass, his tight sphincter gripping me as he bounced up and down on me.
I had never fucked a guy before, but I knew immediately that it was the best hole my cock had ever experienced. A small voice in my head told me to stop the ride, that this was fucked up, that a man isn’t suppose to have a threesome with his son’s best buds. But my cock had another opinion on the matter, and it won out as Jax rode me like a stallion.
Just as the rhythm was getting good, just as that warm tingle was beginning in my balls, Preston pushed Jax off me, my cock popping out of his hole audibly, thudding against my thigh. “It’s my fucking turn to ride him,” Preston announced, mounting me.
“Mmm yeah,” he moaned. “Your big cock feels so good in my pussy. You’re even bigger than your son. I fucking love daddy dick.”
Preston was grinding hard on me, twerking on my rod up and down, up and down. Christ, the boy had moves. He was taking me deep, riding me like he was on a pogo stick. His eyes started to roll back into his head as a low moan began to build from within him. His hard cock, slapping up and down against my hairy abs began to swell.
“FUCK,” he cried, his cock erupting while my dick was still up his ass, his cum spraying all over my hairy chest and abs. Jax dove on top of me, licking up Preston’s cum as he continued to spray a huge fucking load.
Within him, Preston’s fuck canal constricted, pulsing around my cock. The feeling was absurdly intense. He was literally milking my cock from inside his bowels. I couldn’t hold back any longer, my cock swelling in response, my balls releasing months of pent-up tension.
“SHIT—FUCK,” I grunted, my load shooting into Preston’s void, my body convulsing under him.
“That’s it—fucking breed me,” he pleaded, my cock throbbing inside of him, my white gold gilding his bowels.
Preston dismounted as the last of my cum dripped from my cock, crashing on the bed next to me. Jax was immediately on my cock, liking and sucking the last bit of ball batter out of me. I was exhausted—drained both physically and mentally. I craved slumber. But sleep was not in the cards.
“You’re still hard,” Jax remarked, still sucking my spent cock. How was it possible? I was never the type of guy to go multiple rounds. And yet, I was still rock hard seconds after breeding Preston.
Going with the flow, I flipped Jax onto his back, pushed his knees to his chest, and plunged my wet, cummy cock into him. “Fuck me,” he begged. “Fuck me like a bitch.”
Aiming to please, I began to pound the hell out of Jax, his toes curling as I planked above him, my cock routing his depths. I had almost forgot about Preston, when I felt a wet sensation against my hole—his tongue probing my sphincter. Jesus, it felt amazing. And as I continued to pound Jax’s quivering cunt, Preston inserted one and then two fingers into my wet hole.
Holy fuck. The sensation of having something up my ass while I was fucking was beyond intense—unparalleled to anything I had ever experienced. My cock was suddenly the hardest it had ever been, battering Jax’s hole. But the most shocking part was how quickly I needed to cum—again.
“FUCKING CHRIST,” I growled, my second load of the night exploding inside of Jax, his nails scratching into my back as I seeded him with incredible force.
“Fuuuck,” he moaned. “I can feel you cumming inside me. Jesus, it feels so good.”
Preston removed his fingers from my ass just as I pulled out of Jax, my cum spilling from his gaping hole. As I rolled over onto the mattress, Preston dove into Jax’s hole with his tongue and ate my load from that wrecked cunt.
I got up to piss, and when I stumbled back to the bed, Preston was balls deep in Jax’s cummy hole, begging me to mount him while he fucked Jax. I obliged, sandwiching Preston between Jax and me, pumping out my third load of the night.
It got hazy after that—my mind in some sort of tantric stupor. I surrendered my body to their carnal desires, as Jax and Preston worshipped my cock, treating me like some sort of sex demigod.
The last thing I remember was noticing a dark figure sitting in a chair at the corner of the bedroom—I thought it was my son, but I couldn’t see his face. Had Bryce been there the entire time—watching his own father having depraved sex with his buddies? Everything went dark after that.
I awoke naked in bed the next morning, the sheets still damp with sweat, sex, and cum—proof that all I had experienced was no figment of my imagination. Jax and Preston were gone. Despite being slightly hungover, I felt a sense of euphoria, having just experienced the best sex of my life. Forty was going to be a great year.
I dragged myself to the shower, washing the pungent funk of man sex off my body. Clean and fresh, a bathrobe tied loosely at my waist, I discovered my son Bryce at the kitchen table.
“Where’s Preston and Jax?” I asked Bryce as he shoveled leftover birthday cake into his mouth for breakfast.
“They’re still asleep,” Bryce answered.
“Listen, son,” I began awkwardly. “There’s something I need to tell you. Last night, I—uh—I sort of—”
“You fucked Jax and Preston.”
“Yes,” I admitted. “But please don’t be pissed off at me. It all happened so—”
“Pissed off?” Bryce laughed. “Why would I be pissed off? It was my idea for you to fuck them, my gift to you. I’ve been planning it for weeks. I thought it might make your fortieth birthday—memorable.”
“It was definitely memorable,” I laughed, mussing up his hair like when he was a little kid. “You devious little shit. I love the hell out of you.”
The four of us—Bryce, Jax, Preston, and I—enjoyed our last day at the beach together. I grilled up some shrimp for dinner, and we finished up the last of the birthday cake over a contentious game of Scrabble.
Another bottle of tequila appeared late that night, and a debaucherous fuckfest ensued amongst the four of us. Now before you jump to conclusions—no, I did not fuck my own son. That would be wrong. But did both of our big cocks end up in Jax at the same time while Preston sucked on our balls? I’ll never tell.
Stories are fiction and intended for readers 18 and up. All characters are assumed to be legal, consenting adults.
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