wanna fuck a hairy man's man hole so bad he'll beg for me to slow down. grab both his hands and pin them over his head as I promise to slow down but i dont. then after i paint his insides white i pull my dick out and proceed to fuck his throat. have him gagging at my cock, gasping for air as i force my dick down. then after all the rough fucking some soft cuddling as i say sorry for being so rough with him as i jerk his already limp cock from shooting many loads already. promise him how ill be softer next time knowing damn well im lying.
The whole house was still and quiet. I’d fed the twins their bottles, lulling them slowly back to sleep in Gramps’ old rocking chair, watching their sleeping faces with a kind of quiet awe.
I made these, I’d thought to myself, feeling that powerful upwelling inside of me as I gazed down at my boys. Amazing. Me and Miranda hadn’t necessarily planned to have kids so quickly, and so young, much less two of them, but here we were, a family all of a sudden. It was exciting and scary all at once. Deep. Made me feel, finally, like I was a man, once and for all.
I set them back in the travel crib by the bed, my wife sleeping like the dead, but I didn’t feel like joining her just yet. Had a lot on my mind, this first Thanksgiving as a family, under the roof where I’d mostly grown up. Thinking about change, and growth, and fatherhood. Thinking about the turkey in the fridge, too, if I was being honest. We’d eaten well this afternoon, snacked on some leftovers in the evening, but now I was hungry again. So I moved quietly into the kitchen to make myself a snack.
My mouth was full of turkey when Dad came in, padding in real quietly like I’d done, and when he saw me there, pulling strips of meat off the carcass on the counter beside me, he just chuckled.
“You too, huh?” he grinned, coming over to join me. He was in boxer shorts like me. I was generally a naked sleeper, and I knew he was too, but damn if he didn’t actually look better in a pair of shorts. Still in great shape, just with a little softness to the belly in middle age that I guessed I’d have too. I was built just like him, took after him in a lot of ways, and I’ll be honest, if I looked as good as he did pushing 50, I’d be a happy man.
“Was giving the boys their bottle, and I figured I’d get a late-night feeding in myself,” I said, licking the spicy grease off my fingers. “This is a damn fine turkey, Dad. You’ve done it again. You’re gonna have to teach me the secret.”
“All those years watching me, and you haven’t learned it by now, kid?” he said, eyebrow arched, giving me a wink. “It’s in the brining, that’s the key.”
I watched him suck the grease off his fingers too, just like I did, and out of nowhere, felt my cock twitch in my loose boxers. Shit, I thought to myself, with a wry half-grin. Old magic’s still there…
We stood there, companionably quiet as we picked at the bird, not needing to say anything to each other. Just enjoying each other’s company. We’d always had a bond, especially once I’d grown up, gotten older, come into my own more as a man in my own right. The bond deepening between us, in a lot of ways. A lot of good times. A lot of learning from him, with him, in all kinds of ways. Just thinking about that, my cock continued on its slow, steady upright course, and when Dad’s eyes cut down at the steadily shifting mound in my boxers and shot me that grin of his - the same grin I had - I knew he was enjoying reminiscing a little too.
“You got a little of the seasoning there, buddy,” he said quietly, reaching over to flick at a crumb on the corner of my lip, then popping the finger into his mouth. At that, my cock pulsed a little harder, especially when he tipped me another wink as he sucked his fingertip clean.
“Now, the real secret’s in your mother’s pie,” he said. “Maybe Miranda can coax it out of her, but whatever it is, I’ve never had another like it.”
There really was nothing like Mom’s pumpkin pie. It was sitting right there on the fridge shelf, and a little piece of that would be perfect right now. So I pulled it out, sliced off a little sliver of it, and popped a bite in my mouth, letting out a happy noise. Rich, creamy, spicy, sweet - perfect.
“Am I right, or am I right?” Dad said with a grin, watching me enjoy.
I nodded, then after a few seconds, ran my finger through the filling and offered it to him. Waiting to see if he’d take the bait. He gave me a long, smiling look, then leaned in, lips parting, and sucked the mound of pie filling off my fingertip. Taking his time with it, even lightly taking hold of my wrist with his hand, as his tongue lashed round the tip of my finger, cleaning it off thoroughly. Sucking on it a little. Something I remembered him doing very well over the years, on other late, quiet nights together. Days, too. All kinds of occasions, since I was 16 or 17. Not for quite awhile now, though. Damn, I’d missed that.
He stepped back, smacking his lips a little, that smile of his deepening, and yeah, the old vibe was definitely there, present and correct between us.
“That good, Dad?” i said, quiet, a little huskiness to my voice.
“The best, son,” he replied, with a slow nod.
We looked at each other for another long moment, and then he stepped in closer. Reached down and gently, but decisively laid his hand over the hard jut of my cock in my boxers. Gave it that familiar, careful, loving squeeze he always had. I had a nice cock, a cock just like his, long and pleasantly thick, a shade under seven inches. Even cut nearly identically to his. It thrilled to his familiar, long-missed touch. Miranda and I had an excellent sex life - not so much since the twins were born, but that was natural. I loved to pleasure her, make her cum, then slowly fuck my own load into her tight, welcoming wetness. But me and Dad, shit, the electricity between us was on a whole different level. A different energy. Deeper. Satisfied us both, in ways nobody else could.
I let Dad slowly rub my superhard cock, making my boxers all moist in front, reaching over to run my hand up and down his other arm, over the strong, corded muscles of it as it propped on the countertop while his other worked on me. We smiled at each other, and like on some silent signal, both leaned in to kiss, slow and soft, our lips smacking quietly in the dark kitchen. He’d taught me how to do this properly, and I’d been a damn good student. Even though it had been maybe a year since we’d last tangled like this, it felt like we’d never paused. Felt right. Felt natural.
His tongue tasted like turkey seasoning and pumpkin and cinnamon, and as the kiss quietly deepened, I reached around him, grabbed his still high, tight and hard ass, and pulled him into me. His identical cockbulge slid up against mine, making us both quietly grunt into each other’s mouths. We thrust slowly, quietly together as we made out, eventually coming up for air with big smiles.
“My boy,” he said quietly, almost wistfully. “A man, now. A dad in your own right. Hell of a thing.”
“Guess I am,” I nodded. “A man like you. A dad like you, I hope. The best.”
He ducked his head, smiling, never good with compliments, but I could tell he was pleased. Leaned up and pressed his lips to mine.
“Gonna make a hell of a dad, son. Hell, you already are. Enjoy it. it’s an amazing thing. Even when you were being a pain in my ass, I still loved every minute of it. Still do.”
It was a capital-M Moment, real powerful, both of us smiling and wistful, maybe a little moist-eyed. Masculine, and intimate too. The best kind of bond between a father and son. The kind we’d enjoyed for many years now. Maybe one day, me and my boys would be similar. We’d see. For now, this moment, me and my Dad, was perfect.
Dad’s hand moved back between us, found the fly of my shorts, and slipped inside. I let out a soft moan as he found my cock and slipped round it in that familiar, but thrilling way. Slid up and down as he watched me with a smile.
“Reckon I could use a little feeding myself, buddy,” he said, low and husky.
“Yeah, Dad?”
“Uh-huh,” he nodded. “You up for that? Another late-night feed, son?”
“Like I fed my boys, huh Dad?”
“But better, son. Like a Dad does.”
Fuck, talk about a Moment. This was intense, what was building up between us. Even more than usual. I nodded, and watched Dad sink to his knees, onto the soft mat on the floor, shifting his eyes down from mine, down the hair on my trim torso, to the jutting shape of my cock in my shorts. Leaning in to kiss the thicker trail of fur on my stomach - getting a little softer there myself, with my routines all shot to hell with two newborns at home, but manageable still - and working his way lower, into the denser growth of it on my lower abdomen. His hands came up, hooked the waistband of my boxers, and he growled low in his throat as they fell to my feet and my cock sprang free, the head shiny with precum already. A leaker, just like him.
I let out my own low growl as Dad took my cock in his fist, his breath hot all along the length of it, then slowly lapped at the tip, scooping up my bubbling pre. Sank my fingers into his full, thick, silvery-streaked hair as he engulfed my cock with his mouth, lips and tongue working the head, and then slowly, steadily swallowed me down. Like we’d never stopped this. Like a year of life hadn’t gotten in the way of our special bond. Like the first time he sucked me, when I was a horny, lanky teenager, burning up with the same needs and drives he’d recognized in himself at he same age.
“Fuck yessss, Dad,” I murmured quietly as his sloppy, wet sucking sounds echoed softly upwards. His hands explored the hard, defined muscles of my thighs, up to the deep dimples of my ass, flexing and tightening as I started to slowly fuck his willing, experienced mouth.
He grunted almost happily as my hands took hold of the sides of his handsome head and my hips took over. We fell into the old, familiar rhythm, working together as I fucked the length of my younger cock into his mouth, as he sucked and slurped and swallowed and Worked his throat slowly open. Fuck… literally nobody had ever been able to deep-throat me like Dad could, and when he wriggled his head and buried his nose in my bush, the muscles of his throat squeezing along the length of my cock in a loving embrace, the bristly hairs of his goatee tickling my balls, I forgot all about being a young married father, with a job and responsibilities. I let myself fall back into the old fantasy, imagining me and Dad doing this the rest of our lives. Father and son, sucking and fucking and kissing and bonding, deep, like men. Together. Made for this, and each other.
The thing was, it felt different now, even more powerful. Not just because of the year since we’d last done any of this, but because I was a dad now too. I wondered, when he was my age, feeding me in the tiny hours of the night, holding me in his arms, if he’d ever imagined us doing this. I wondered if he felt the intense, masculine power of his fatherhood, the first time I got down on my knees and suckled the cock he’d created me with. I felt more than a little of that now, my fatherhood and my manhood twinned and feeding off each other, strengthening each other as my cock throbbed and my balls roiled, as my cum built up inside of my fertile young father’s balls.
“Big, fertile young Daddy cock for you, Dad,” I murmured straight out of my subconscious, surprising myself. He grunted and looked up at me, eyes shiny and alive, and sucked harder.
“Cock I made my sons with, Dad,” I went on, voice all deep and husky, sounding more and more like him. Talking dirty, like he’d naturally started doing once we’d fooled around a few times, once we knew the sexual bond we had was A Thing between us. Like he’d taught me how to do, expressing my deepest, lustiest, manliest thoughts and desires, coaxing them out of me like his mouth and ass coaxed the young cum out of my cock.
“Feeding you like a Daddy should, Dad,” I half-moaned, and he moaned back, low and deep and long, buzzing all through the hard, throbbing, tingling tube of my cock and deep into my churning nuts.
“Made two boys already with this cock… with this cum, Dad,” I grunted. “Gonna make more, maybe. Fucking potent, fertile, son-making dadcum.”
He moaned again, hungry, eyes locked on mine as I stared lustily, lovingly, hungrily down at him.
“Gonna give you my cum, Dad,” I panted. “Thick, son-making dadcum. Straight from my dad balls. You like that, Dad? Young Daddy cum for you. For my boy. For my boys…”
That did me in, that and the doubletime Dad did on me, his eyes streaming with the effort, his goatee wet with overflowing spit as he devoured my throbbing cock and the hungry, horny, taboo stream of fucktalk from my mouth. I felt my muscles flex and tighten all over, going up on the balls of my feet, my head dropping back, mouth hanging open in a soundless yell. I’d learned how to be quiet when I came, from all those furtive, late-night visits he’d paid to my teenage bedroom. I could be a moaner, a shouter too. But I knew when, and how, to cum near-silently, and I did it now, my cock firing off, shot after shot of pent-up cum down Dad’s hungry, suckling throat. It had been days since Miranda and I had had any time to play, and Dad was reaping the benefits of my backed-up young dad balls, bigtime.
I watched Dad back up off my cock a little, letting the head spurt the last few shots across his tongue as it caressed the underside. He nursed on it as the last of my load dribbled out, knowing from plenty of experience just when to back off, when I got too sensitive. He grinned as he leaned back, letting my big, spent dick hang free, handsome as hell. I reached down for him, pulling him up to me, his lips already parting to meet mine as I slipped him my tongue, searching for the remnants of my load, all mixed up in his spit. The ultimate leftovers, I guess, and just as delicious as everything else, as we grunted and swapped them back and forth, just like we’d always loved to do.
“Fucking sweet,” he murmured, as we grinned at each other. “Jesus christ, kid. That was intense. Being a dad agrees with you, big guy.”
“I guess it does,” I chuckled, a little amazed myself at how my subconscious had just taken over and poured all that taboo nasty talk out. But I liked it. It was interesting. I wanted to see what else it could spurt out of my mouth. And what Dad would say in return.
I reached down for the epic tent in Dad’s boxers, slipping my hand into his fly to feel him, feel the cock he’d made me with, his big daddy cock and the heavy balls suspended below it. He kissed me again, lazily swapping tongues with me as I teased his sonmaking length, then took hold of my wrist after a couple of minutes and gently, but firmly extracted my hand.
“Not tonight, son,” he said, reluctant but firm. “The girls are hitting the sales in the morning. We’ll feed the twins, put them down… and then we’ll feed each other. Take our time with it. Just like we used to.”
Mom had always assumed we didn’t like going shopping on Black Friday because we were men. Sort of, I guess… but more because it gave us the chance to take our time together, really put the screws to each other, so to speak. Long and slow and deep and verbal. Father and son. Only now, we were father and father too.
“Give you your first taste of fucking as a daddy, bud,” he grinned. I growled at the very idea and kissed him, deep and quick and hard. “Show you what it’s like to fuck your boy… Dad.”
My cock tingled all along its length, down into my balls, into my gut. Holy shit. I’d never even thought about that. Fucking Dad… and switching the roles up. Hearing him call me ‘Dad’, for the first time… fuck. If I thought about that too much more, I’d be hard all over again, in seconds. Dad saw my cock bob, already starting to grow again, and chuckled. Gave me a wink that told me he knew exactly how I was feeling. Of course he did - we were a lot alike. And even more now, now that we were both dads.
Fuck yeah. I was definitely feeling like a man now, once and for all. Even better than that - feeling like a Dad.
More stories like this at https://talesfromunderthemattress.tumblr.com/tagged/story+time
“Dude, that’s kinda lame,” my buddy Matt said. “C’mon - the beach, the babes… the fuck do you wanna go hang out in a tent with your old man? That’s not what Spring Break’s about, bro!”
I just shrugged at him and the rest of our buds. Fuck Spring Break - or fuck their Spring Break, anyway. Florida sucked, the beaches were full of drunk douchebags, and the “babes” - well, I wasn’t all that amped about hooking up with a bunch of drunk, sunburned sorostitutes who probably had boyfriends already. Or trying to, anyway. Been there, done that. Freshman year, it had been cool. My sophomore year, pretty good. This year, I’d been thinking I was gonna just save the cash and chill on campus, catch up on my reading, enjoy the quiet.
“You know, I got some vacation time saved up,” Dad had said when I told him my half-plans. “Weather’s looking good for some camping…”
As soon as he’d said it, I immediately knew it was the right plan. A few days up at the lake, just him and me, just like the old days - fuck yeah. I liked that idea. A lot. And my dick liked it even more. Dad didn’t have to say anything at all about the old days to inspire that - I was already boning in my sweats, and I knew on the other end of the phone line, he probably was too.
We still weren’t saying anything about it on the drive up, or while we worked to get the tent and all our stuff set up. We didn’t have to. Dad kept catching me eyeing up his brawny, shirtless body, all the big muscles of his torso a little softer with middle-age, but still powerful and sexy as fuck. I kept catching him eyeing me up, too. I’d been working hard in the gym, and seeing his approving looks made me feel like ten feet tall. So we didn’t need to say anything at all, because all of our history was there between us in the quiet, clean mountain air, in the sweat on our torsos, in the looks we kept giving each other. A little furtive at first, but more and more open as we worked quietly.
“Well, it sure as hell ain’t Florida,” he said, stepping out of the tent. “But we’re all set here, bud.”
He grinned at me as I stood up from where I’d been stacking wood for tonight’s fire, dusting my hands off on my shorts. His shorts were riding low on his hips, showing off the waistband of the white briefs I knew he was wearing underneath them. Damn, he looked good. I could tell he liked what he was seeing as he looked at me, too. I could feel it in the air between us, stronger than ever now.
“Screw Florida,” I said, stepping over to him. “There’s no place in the world I’d rather be right now. And nobody I’d rather be there with, Dad.”
“Ah buddy,” he said, his smile deepening as he reached out for my hand and tugged me to him, into the warmth of his body and his manly, hard-working scent. My hand went to his hip as he slipped his arms around me and fixed me with a deep, warm look. “You don’t even know…”
“I do, Dad, I do,” I said, my voice going lower, huskier to match his. “But you could show me, for old time’s sake…”
It had been a minute since we’d last had the chance, but his lips on mine were immediately familiar to me, the warmth and softness of them as they moved against mine, as mine parted eagerly to greet his thick, wet tongue with my own. Damn but it was awesome to make out with him like this - I mean, it was always awesome, ever since the first time, but even more awesome to do it up here, out in the open, all on our own. Just like our first time. I was a better kisser than I had been then, and I showed him, loving the way he grunted with pleasure as our lips and tongues smacked together, and our hands began to explore the sun-warmed skin stretched over our muscles. For his part, the work of his tongue and lips on mine had me roaring hard. He was an incredible kisser, my gold-standard for it - and a lot of other things. I pushed the hard steel of my cockbulge up against him, finding him just as solid for me, and he grunted deeper into my mouth.
“Been awhile since this old tent saw any action,” he said, tugging my ballcap off and tossing it inside the tent. “‘Bout time we fixed that, what do you say?”
“I say this is gonna be the best Spring Break ever,” I grinned, stepping inside and taking his hand to tug him in behind me.
By the time Dad had zipped the door closed, my shorts were off, and I loved the way his eyes widened at the sight of me, fully boned in my boxer briefs and ready for him.
“God damn, you’re beautiful,” he growled, pulling me back into him for another long, deep, hungry kiss that I returned eagerly. I took his hand and guided it down to the throb of my cockbulge, and he made that hungry, animal noise again as he palmed it slowly, feeding me his tongue in slow, deep strokes whiel I hunched my young bone against the warmth of his palm and tugged at the button on his shorts.
“So are you, big guy,” I panted as I got him free of them, shoving them down his chunky-muscled thighs. Just like I knew he would be, he had on a pair of tighty-whiteys, and one hell of a hard cock in them. I took hold of his bulge and gave it a slow, squeezing stroke, making him grunt and growl and pull my mouth back to his for another round of hungry making out.
We dropped to our knees together, not breaking the kiss as we explored each other’s mouths hungrily, our hands finding their way to each other’s asses and squeezing the thick muscles we found. The air in the tent was already starting to get a little warm and close, and that just made it hotter, as we started to sweat a little again. The sounds of our kissing and grunting got even more intense in the enclosed space. I could have done this for days with him and been perfectly happy, but then Dad’s big hand dipped inside my underwear and got a good feel of my hard cock.
“Fuck yeah,” he growled. “There’s my big boy. Got you all worked up, huh buddy?”
“You know you do, Dad,” I groaned as he manhandled my ass with one hand and my cock with the other. I thrust my hardon up against his sweaty palm, let him really get a feel of what he was doing to me. “Always have, you hot fuckin’ stud. Always got your boy hard for you.”
Dad growled at that and kissed me hard and deep, peeling my underwear down as I tugged at his. I shuffled around so he could get mine down the big muscles of my thighs, and then his big, strong hands were dancing over my naked flesh as we sucked hard on each other’s tongues, as I pushed my hand inside his shorts and wrapped it around the thickness of his big, throbbing cock.
“Got you all hard too, huh Dad?” I panted as I got a solid grip on his piece and stroked on it. “Fuckin’ boned for your own son, you big stud.”
“Sexy fucker,” he chuckled before feeding me his tongue again, taking hold of my shoulders and pushing me back on top of the sleeping bag. I fell back with a grunt and a chuckle, and then a low moan as wrapped his paw around my cock, ducked his head down and licked my cockhead.
For such a big, gruff, straight-seeming dude, Dad could suck one hell of a cock, and the way he worked his lips and tongue as he slowly swallowed me to the root made my eyes roll back in my head. The whole time he worked his lips and tongue up and down my shaft, his hands were exploring the muscles of my thighs, my stomach, my chest, squeezing and stroking me all over, appreciating all the hard work I’d been putting in. All I could do was keep a hold of his handsome head, while I let myself get lost in his masterful sucking.
“Ah, god, stop,” I hissed when I felt my balls starting to tighten up. I pulled his mouth off my cock and curled up to kiss him, the both of us grunting as we lashed our tongues together. I could taste myself in his mouth, and it made me even hungrier for him.
“Damn, was looking forward to getting a first taste of your cum, bud,” he said with a grin as I took my turn to push him onto his back.
“We got plenty of time for all the loads we want,” I said, pushing his strong thighs apart and leaning in to smell him, the manly, sweaty, musky scent of him. I locked eyes with him as I took his big cock in one hand and slowly licked my way from his balls to his tip, making him groan and shiver a little.
“But I’ve been looking forward to tasting you for months, Dad,” I said, then winked at him, opened wide, and started to swallow him.
Ever since we’d first started messing around, I’d been practicing my skills. I was pretty good at it, and proud of myself for how I’d gotten better and better since my first clumsy attempts at sucking my best bud off. Once me and Dad had connected like this, I’d focused on getting better for him, no matter who it was I was actually sucking. He got to reap the rewards, and I was even prouder now that I could swallow my way down to the base of his cock, until my nose was buried in his musky bush and his salty, manly taste was filling my mouth. I closed my eyes and just savored him for a minute, feeling him throb in the wet warmth of my mouth and throat, until I could feel myself getting to the point where I was going to need to breathe or pass out. Then I came up off him, a fresh wave of manly, musky flavor filling my mouth as my tongue set to work on him.
“Aw buddy,“ Dad moaned, his hand rubbing the back of my head, watching me with half-lidded eyes as I showed him the best of my skills. I slurped, licked, sucked, swallowed, and hummed my way up and down his thickness, worshipping him, paying my respects to the big cock he’d created me with, and then shared with me. I ran my hands over the powerful muscles of his thighs as I worked up and down on him, my mouth rich with his deep tastes, getting fuller and fuller as my spit mixed with his precum and coated my mouth and his cock.
“Getting close, son,” Dad growled. “Slow down, unless you wanna…”
I grunted around his flesh, bobbed my head up and down with even more effort, and then I decided to show him the thing that had pulled a good dozen loads out of a couple of good buds this past semester. I pushed my tongue out of my mouth to caress the underside of his shaft, swallowed him down to the root, and then ran my tongue back and forth over the tight, cum-churning bulge of his big, sweaty balls. We locked eyes, and when I started to hum, Dad got that telltale faraway look on his gruffly handsome face, his mouth hanging open as his rapid breaths turned into moans. His muscles started to tense up all over, and when I reached down deep into the fork of his thighs, rubbed my fingers along the sweaty, hairy stretch of his taint, then stroked my fingertip over the hot clutch of his hole, he grunted loud, locked up tight all over, and fed his thick, hot cum to me.
Dad shot and shot and shot, thick, creamy spurts of his seed flowing over my tongue and filling my mouth as I pulled my head up a little to savor the tastes and sensations of his potent load. When he finally stopped spurting, I kept nursing on his cockhead until he shivered all over with the sensitivity of it. His mouth was already open, panting, ready to meet mine as I slid up his solid, muscular body to kiss him, his tongue eagerly seeking his own seed from my tongue as I flowed it to him.
“Jesus christ, you just get better and better, bud,” Dad panted with a half-disbelieving grin. “I’m gonna have to step up my game, son.”
“You don’t have to do a damn thing, Dad,” I grinned, kissing him slower and sweeter. We fell into that for a couple of slow, sweet minutes before he pulled back, fixed his eyes on mien and slowly ruffled my short hair.
“Not true, bud,” he said, reaching down between us to wrap his hand around the throbbing thickness of my cock. My balls were still fat and heavy with my unshot load. I wasn’t a teenager anymore, and I’d been working on my stamina, my endurance, on fucking like a man. Working on making my orgasm even more intense by really building to it. But damn, I was so ready to cum right now. Dad always brought that out in me.
“There’s something I can do… want to do, son,” he said, giving my cock a long slow stroke as he wrapped his thighs around my torso. He pushed my cock down a little, and I felt the tight, furry, sweaty warmth of his hole, almost kissing the tip of my cock. My eyes went wide. It wasn’t the first time, or even the tenth, but every time he invited me to do this, I felt a kind of awe and disbelief.
But I slipped my arms around him, looked my father in the eye, man to man, and I pushed inside of him without another word. Showing him the man he’d made me to be. Showed him how much I’d missed his, and missed this between us. How much better this was than getting drunk and sunburned and blueballed down at Daytona Beach.
Dad was as tight as ever as I sank into him, my cock as big as his now, big and thick, and I took care to make sure I was making him feel good. I wanted to show him the proper respect for letting me do this, for the absolute masculinity of opening himself to another man’s cock - to his own son’s cock. We didn’t talk about our adventures with others very much, and I got the idea he didn’t do this for anyone but me anymore, so it was only right to give him my very best, and treat him like a man deserved to be treated. To treat him like he’d been treating me since I was 17, and learning how it felt to be a man with another man. To fuck my father right.
But then again, you know how it is when you’re young and horny and your balls are churning with an unspent load. We had days up here, just him and me, to do as we pleased. To please each other as we liked. I’d been jonesing for this for weeks - months, really - and I’d been on a slow boil ever since I got into his truck this morning. I knew he’d been feeling the same, and once I’d fucked my way up inside of him and felt his body shift and relax and welcome me, he gripped the bulge of my triceps and nodded.
“Go ahead, buddy,” he murmured, eyes locking on mine. “Show your old man what you got, son.”
“Yessir,” I said, and bent in to feed him my tongue as I set to work, and I let my body just go with it. I fucked Dad deep, long, slow probes followed by hard, fast thrusts, fucking my own father the way I knew he liked to be fucked. Fucking him like the man I was, and the man he was too. The sounds of our grunts and moans, flesh slapping against flesh, echoed in the musky confines of our tent, swirling around us as the sweat streaked our working bodies and our tongues danced in each other’s spit.
“Fuck me, buddy,” he moaned. “Breed your Dad, stud.”
God, I really wanted to hold out, to make it last, but how the fuck could I, with his insides so tight and hot, with the husky murmur of his words, with the way his hands slipped down my sweaty back and squeezed the thrusting, flexing muscles of my ass? I couldn’t.
“There’s my man,” Dad almost crooned. “My big guy. Cum for me, son. Show me.”
“Aw Dad,” I moaned. “I fuckin’ love you…”
“I love you too, buddy,” he murmured against my lips. “So c’mon, show me…”
I grunted, fixed my gaze hard on his, and let myself go. We didn’t have to stifle our noises, our fuck sounds - we were out here all alone, embracing our nature. So I grunted, moaned, then shouted as I flooded my father with my cum, my thick young seed filling his insides as I pumped and pumped it out into his depths. Dad nodded and squeezed my muscles, keeping his eyes on mine as he murmured encouragement through my orgasm, until I was all done, my muscles twitching as I struggled to keep myself propped up on my hands over him. He wrapped his arms around me and gently pulled me down, grunting a little at my weight on him, but kissing me slow and deep.
We kissed for awhile as we came down from the high together, until my cock reluctantly softened and slipped out of him. The sleeping bag was streaked with our sweat as we lay there on our sides, slow kissing and enjoying the glow, hands roaming over each other’s sweat-slicked muscles.
“Damn, if that’s you taking the edge off…” Dad chuckled.
“Hell of a start to Spring Break, that’s for sure,” I grinned.
“You sure you wouldn’t rather be in Florida, with your boys?” he asked a few minutes later, popping the cap off a beer and handing it to me as we stood by the tree and took a leak together, naked in the breeze and the sun. “And the girls?” he went on, with a sly wink.
“Fuck no,” I said immediately. “This is already 110% better. Even if I did want to try to get with a girl, I’d still be trying to chase one down right now. And if I did get to fuck her, well… I’d just be thinking about fucking you anyway, Dad.”
“Damn, bud,” Dad growled, and pulled me in to kiss, sloppy and deep and long, his big hand trailing down over the muscles of my ass.
“I’d be thinking about you fucking me too, Dad,” I murmured when we came up for air, reaching over to stroke the sticky, rubbery length of his cock, feeling it starting to rise all over again. “This is your Spring Break too. You deserve to get laid, and I aim to make it happen, big guy.”
“Hell, I never got to fuck a hot young dude like you back in my Spring Break days,” Dad chuckled.
“No time like the present,” I grinned. “Why don’t we fix that, Dad?”
Dad clinked his beer bottle against mine and winked.
“Here’s to Spring Break,” he said, then pulled me to him for a deep, slow, noisy kiss. “Let’s get this party rolling, son.”
“Fuck yeah, big guy,” I grinned, and let him steer me back into the tent again.
More stories like this at https://talesfromunderthemattress.tumblr.com/tagged/story+time
“Welcome home, bud,” I said as he shut the trunk, a big smile on his face as he stepped up to me, wrapped his free arm around my shoulders and gave me a firm hug, slapping my back a couple times for emphasis.
“Thanks, glad to be home.” he said. “And merry post-Christmas, I guess,” he added with a chuckle.
He smelled good, damn good, some kind of light, clean fragrance on him as I savored the moment. My boy, done with school and the holiday stuff at his mother’s. Back with me again, and even though it had only been a couple weeks since his December graduation ceremony, I’d missed him more than I thought I would. But he was here now, and that was all that mattered.
“C’mon, let’s get your stuff inside,” I said, reluctantly breaking the hug, stepping back to take in the sight of him, standing there in the California sunshine. As always, he looked fine - finer than ever, really, with his ballcap tugged low over his handsome face, his shirt undone a couple of buttons, showing off the smooth skin of his firm upper chest. He’d really gotten the best of me and Maria, and had turned out better looking than either of us, a mix of my build, his mother’s Latina coloring, and a good-looking face that had made the girls a little nuts for him since he was a kid.
Definitely not a kid anymore, though - not with the size of the bulge packing the front of his pants all snugly. Genes from my side of the family, I couldn’t help but think with a little bit of pride. 22 going on 23 now, and definitely all man, that was for sure. He was a damn fine sight to behold, had been for several years now, and I couldn’t help but feel a mix of wistfulness and envy - he was really coming into his prime, handsome and athletic and bright and young, a world full of possibilities awaiting him.
He didn’t have all that much with him - I’d brought a load back from his off-campus house after graduation, and all that was left was a couple of duffel bags of clothes and a box of books. I set them down at the foot of the stairs, and as I stood upright, it was his turn to hug me, strong young arms snaking around my waist as he nestled into me from behind, his chin tucked over my shoulder as he squeezed me again. I got a serious case of the warm-and-fuzzies all through me, and took a moment just to savor him and us, together again at last.
“Christmas felt endless,” he murmured. “All I could think about was getting back here. Being with you, big guy.”
I turned around in his arms, taking in the sight of him, up close and personal, and in private. Shit, seeing him as a man now was still an awesome thing, after twenty-plus years of watching him grow up. I squeezed the firm, muscle-packed arms beneath his shirt, feeling him tense his biceps up for me. His grin was a mix of shit-eating and confident, the man in him winning out over the boy he’d been.
“I like this on you,” I said, reaching up to graze my thumb over the little patch of dark beard on his chin, all carefully trimmed and shaped, setting off the boyish handsomeness of his features. “Damn, you’re looking more and more like a man every time I see you, kiddo.”
“More of a man, you mean, Dad,” he said. “Your man, right?”
My guts tingled a little at that, at the easy self-confidence, the depth of his voice, the warm intent of his brown-eyed gaze. At his words, more than anything. My son - my man. Yeah.
The kiss came naturally, his lips full and soft on mine, moist and a little chewing-gum minty, parting naturally as our mouths worked together. He drew his arms tighter around me as I did the same to him, pulling each other in close as the kiss deepened, lips smacking softly together. The last time we’d kissed had been his graduation weekend a couple of weeks back - a hard, hungry, months-apart kind of kiss, full of heat and lust and need. This one, though, was a kiss of a different kind - long, warm, deep, passionate in a whole different way. Just savoring each other and the electric connection of our lips and tongues.
“Let’s get your stuff put up, before we get too carried away,” I said when we reached a natural break point in the kiss, squeezing the close-cropped bristles on the back of his neck, the way he’d always loved. My cock was throbbing inside my jeans, full and hard, and from the constant graze of his big young bulge against mine, he was feeling it just as much as I was.
“We are gonna get carried away though, right Dad?” he grinned over his shoulder at me as he picked up one of his duffels and started up the stairs, two at a time. My eyes flicked down at the bulge of his firm, muscular ass as it stretched against his pants, and I felt the old, familiar hunger inside me intensify. I couldn’t help but reach up to give one solid globe a deep, playful squeeze.
“Fuck yeah, I thought so,” he chuckled, heading for the landing as I picked up his other things and followed behind him.
We got to the top of the stairs, and I deposited his things inside the door of his bedroom. We both stood there for a moment, looking at the room - the queen bed up against the wall under the windows, a Cardinals poster over his desk, his high school baseball trophies ranked along the bookshelf. His mother had a couple of kids with her husband, so he didn’t have a room over there - this was his space. So I was surprised when he turned around, bag in hand, and headed across the hall to the master bedroom - my room.
“Uh…” I said as he walked in and set his bag down at the foot of my bed.
He stepped over to me where I stood in the doorway, that mix of humor, respect and confidence in his expression that I’d really started to notice on him these past few years. A man coming into his own, a fine young man slipping firm arms back around my waist as I kind of gaped at him.
“I figured this is how you wanted it to be, Dad,” he said, that smile of his filling out as he squeezed his arms around me, looking at me levelly, but respectfully. Like the man he was now. “I mean, after summer, and all…”
He didn’t need to say any more than that. I’m sure he knew exactly what I was thinking, the hot rush of images flooding through the front of my head. All the sweat and heat of summer, before he’d gone back to school - the glow of sweat on his fine-honed young muscles, the way my bedsheets pooled around the muscular trimness of his hips and ass as he gazed down at me and thrust his hard young cock up inside my tingling ass. The taste of his tongue, thick and wet and assured as it danced slowly with mine. How my cum splashed hot across the hair and skin of my stomach as my boy fucked my load out of me, before plowing his own into my depths.
“I’m home now, Dad,” he said, his eyes deep and brown and locked on mine as he squeezed me again, drawing me subtly closer. Deeper into his warm young embrace. “Came home to be with you. Be your man.”
I opened my mouth, not sure what I was going to say, just that something needed to be said - I was his father, after all. The man of the house. Only, looked like there were two men of the house, now. I hadn’t really thought about it that way, and I sure didn’t have time now, as he leaned in close again and kissed me.
I’d never gone in for that whole alpha-male thing - I figured real men didn’t need to obsess over labels and identity like that. I’d always been a pretty take-charge, in-control kind of guy - my father had been a quietly confident and competent kind of guy, and I’d done my best to be like him. It had made me a good soldier and a pretty good boss now that I was a civilian. Looked like Damon was taking after me like I’d taken after my father, too, quietly asserting himself as he snaked his strong young arms around me and kissed me like the lover he’d fast become since high school. Whatever I’d been thinking of saying to him, at the confident way he’d set his stuff down at the foot of my bed, claiming his space in here alongside me, it was gone now. Gone in the slow, skilled thrust and dance of his tongue on mine, in the way his strong ballplayer’s hands slid down my back to cup the muscles of my ass and gently squeeze, in the heavy, insistent throb of his big young cock against mine.
I couldn’t help but think again of last summer, all the time we’d spent getting each other hard and naked, all the taboo intensity of our lusty, incestuous coupling. It wasn’t our first summer together like that - we’d had a few summers together exploring the new intensity of our dad-son dynamic by that point. But it had been our first summer of him fucking me. Damon enjoyed being fucked, and I sure loved fucking his sexy jock ass, but as mutual as we were with everything else we did to each other, it had somehow never crossed my mind that he’d want to fuck me. Maybe it was because I hadn’t taken a dick like that since I was in the service, I don’t know. But when he’d pressed his nearly naked body up the length of mine on the couch last May, looked me deep in the eyes, and asked if he could fuck me, I found myself saying yes before I even knew it.
We fucked all summer, and it felt like a whole new chapter of our taboo bond, a new level of father-son lust to be explored. He still liked to be fucked, there was no way to fake his enthusiasm when I worked my big Dad dick up his tail, but god damn if he didn’t treat a man’s ass like a natural-born top. It had been kind of uncomfortable at first, but the way my son used his tongue and fingers, and then his cock, had me consistently fountaining cum up the length of my torso, my toes curling, clutching the bulging mass of his big young biceps as he stared down at me with a lusty grin and fucked another big young load up inside of me. By the time he’d headed back to school in August, things were definitely different between us. Better, really, but the way my son had shown himself to me, as the man he’d become, had given me a lot to think about in the months since then. A lot to think about, and a lot to stroke about.
I didn’t need the memories now, though. Not with the way he was pushing my polo shirt up my chest as we sucked on each other’s tongues and grunted low and deep. I found myself raising my arms automatically, Damon breaking his assertive kiss long enough to get the shirt up past my face, leaning right back in to reconnect as soon as the shirt cleared the crown of my head. No time to overthink things now, as I kissed him back hard, the depth and intensity coming roaring back into our bodies like we hadn’t ever been apart. I worked my hands over his trim hips and the muscular flare of his ass as he hunched himself into me, groping the big muscles of mine right back.
Just a few buttons and a push took care of Damon’s shirt, and while he shook it free of his wrists, I groped the firm, smooth flatness of his pecs. Naturally smooth, not a bit like me in that respect, strong from years of baseball. He flexed them up for me, and I growled and licked the warm skin of them hungrily, fastening my lips to one big, stiff brown nipple as he moaned and clutched the back of my head.
“Fuck I missed you, Dad,” he groaned, rubbing the back of my neck as I licked and sucked on the stiff peak of his jock kid tit. “Missed this bad, big guy.”
He ran his hands up my lats as he leaned in and started to nuzzle the side of my neck, tracing his lips over it before crushing them against the skin, a warm, wet kiss as his tongue licked at the skin of my neck, up to my ear, making me shiver and groan around his nip.
“Big sexy fuck, Dad,” he growled into my ear, all deep and low and so fucking manly, I couldn’t help but shiver inside. “My big sexy fuckin’ dude.”
“My sexy fuckin’ kid,” I growled back as I leaned up to meet his mouth again. “My sexy fuckin’ man.”
Damon let out a little half-grunt, half-whimper at that, and fed me his tongue again. Our hands grabbed at each other’s belts, yanking and releasing, unbuttoning, unzipping. Damn but it was a treat to slide my hands down his waist, pushing his pants down from the inside as I felt the hard-carved muscles of his hips, his glutes, his upper thighs. He was doing the same to me, moaning into my mouth as we felt each other up. I was damn glad I’d kept at it in the gym. I’d always been pretty fit, but being with my boy like this had kept me motivated to fight back against middle age. I wanted to be hot to him, like he was hot to me. Show him the body he’d inherited from me, to its best effect. He sure seemed to appreciate it, as he stroked me all over and kissed me deep, and yeah, I wasn’t blind to the covetous, lusty way he stroked and squeezed my ass through my boxer briefs. The ass he’d fucked, and well, for most of last summer. Hell, I was doing the exact same thing to his prime young tail, all high and tight and hard and round, all in my hands as we went to town on each other.
I ran my hands over the dark, bristly shortness of his hair as he crouched down between my spread thighs, stroking his hands up them, looking up at me sitting side-saddle on the bed above him and nodding approvingly. I ran my thumb over the little ruff of beard on his chin, grinning at the typically-Damon way he’d shaped it, all the care he put into his appearance. Not a vain kid, necessarily, but he’d always been good-looking, and he’d always taken good care of himself. It had made him even more popular, and while it was a hot, secret kick to see the way people looked at him once he hit his mid-teens and started to get really fine, it was fucking mind-blowing when he’d come to me the summer after his senior year, and told me how fine he’d always thought I was. How hot he thought I was. A mind-blowing summer after that in all kinds of ways.
He grinned up at me as I scratched his chin with my thumb, then ducked his head, those full lips parting, his tongue pink and gleaming as it licked the pad of my thumb, then down the underside of it. He locked his big brown eyes on mine and sucked my thumb to the root, making me flow precum even harder inside my straining boxer briefs. That insanely hot combo of the sensations, the sounds of his mouth working wetly on my digit, the happy, deep-chested grunts he was letting out as we gazed at each other.
Damon primed me like that for a couple minutes, coming up off my thumb with a gasp, his lips glossy with spit as he grinned up at me, tipped me an incredibly sexy wink, then reached for the waistband of my shorts.
“Aw shit aw shit!” I hissed through gritted teeth, my ass clenching tight as it came up off the bed. I couldn’t even look down at the sight of my son swallowing my cock, all skilled and self-assured as those full lips slicked their way down my shaft, his tongue somehow like sandpaper and silk at the same time as it lavished my throbbing hard flesh. Watching him do it might make me want to cum even more, and there was still so much more to do.
He’d been good at this that first summer - too good for it to have been his first time, and we talked a lot about that afterwards, how he’d prepped himself for coming onto me like he did. It still fired my nuts off bigtime, the stories he’d told me, about dugouts and best buds’ bedrooms, the back seat of the team bus, the front seat of a Silverado, the hot, salty loads he’d coaxed out of balls, down his throat, all the prep work he’d done before he came to me. Wanting to be good for me, so he could show me how much he meant it, all these things he felt for me.
He was beyond good then, and even better now. No lie, the best head I’d ever had, and not just because it was my boy who was giving it to me. I told him so as I cupped the back of his head, listening to the lewd, wet, gulping sounds of him sucking, making fresh spit for me as he swallowed even more, bathing my throbbing Dad cock in the warmth of it. It overflowed his lips, streamed down my shaft, into my bush and over my balls, the warm trickle of it making things even better. I felt the graze of his fingertips over my balls, through the hair I kept trimmed back ever since he’d done it for me four summers ago. Spreading the wetness of his spit over the skin, his touch light but confident, stroking my big full balls as he sucked the hard column of flesh he’d come from.
The way he stroked down over my taint, through the fur there, all warm and moist with sweat and his spit, made me shiver all over. I finally looked down at him as he teased the skin with his fingertips, and found him gazing up at me. Kind of adoringly, yeah, but also with that directness he’d found lately. A man’s gaze, not just a son’s. My man, I thought, and shivered all over again, feeling the head of my cock throb precum into his swirling spit. My thighs spread a little wider, giving him more access, and he took me up on it, grazing the tip of his middle finger over the hair that lined the tightness of my hole, making me tingle all up through my core. He made a deep low, affirmative noise that sizzled all the way down my cock, buzzing my balls, making me grunt and squirm and open up to him, and then he slipped his finger inside of me.
Fuck, if I was struggling not to cum before, the feeling of Damon’s finger stroking my nut while he swallowed my cock was making it a real challenge to hold onto my load. I clutched the covers in one hand and the back of my son’s slow-bobbing head in the other and held on tight.
“Fuck, Dad,” he growled, his voice all thick with spit when he came up off the end of my cock a few intense minutes later. Thick strands of his spit connected the fat head of my cock to his full lips, and the lewd way he sucked it up, the horny grin he gave me, made me grunt with lust for him.
“Can’t wait to get this inside me again, big guy,” he said, giving it a slow, spit-slicked stroke, leaning in to run his tongue up the underside of the shaft, meeting my eyes again as he did. He had two fingers lodged inside me now, skilfully stroking my prostate as he slow-jacked and licked my piece, those big brown eyes alive and hungry and happy.
“Shit, me either, stud,” I grunted, my voice all tight, rubbing the back of his head. He pushed himself upright, all long, defined muscles under smooth tan skin, his cock threatening to bust out of the skimpy little grey briefs he was wearing. Grey and soaked dark where the thick head of his cock pulsed at the fabric, soaking it with his pre, the patch slowly spreading. I reached out and ran one hand up the long, hard muscle of his thigh, feeling him flex it up for my appreciation, his fingers slowly working inside me still.
“You will, Dad, believe it,” he grinned, leaning down to buzz my lips with his. I could taste myself on them. “But there’s something else I’ve been looking forward to, too.”
He stroked my prostate for emphasis - as if I needed it - and fed me his tongue again, thick with the taste of the cock that had made him.
“God, so fuckin’ tight,” he growled lustily many long minutes later, coming up out of my ass, that little thatch of beard all glossy with his spit. For all his playful lustiness earlier, he was all man, all lust now, his eyes big and dark and intent on mine, working my cock with one hand, his other squeezing the muscles along the back of my thigh. I was laid out on my back, legs in the air, feeling lewd and loving it, my hole tingling from the intense, skilful tonguework he’d laid down on it. My boy Frenched my hole as well as he Frenched my mouth, sliding his tongue up inside of me with the same hungry joy I felt when I did it to him. I couldn’t wait to feast on his tight-muscled ass like he’d been doing to mine, but for right now, I was too horny to think about much more than the long, slow, probing licks of his magical tongue, digging deep inside of me.
Why else had I cleaned myself out so thoroughly this afternoon, before he got here? I’d known this was coming. Knew what he wanted. The thing was, I wanted it just as bad. Maybe more. Now I was getting it, in spades.
“Let me taste you, buddy,” I growled, and my kid scrambled around obediently, presenting his briefs-straining bulge to me proudly. I loved him in these underwear, but even more out of them, my hands yanking the flimsy things down his athlete’s thighs, his big hard cock snapping loose, all wet-headed, a slightly darker, uncut version of my cock. Big and hard and ready to roll. Ready for anything.
He tasted all salty and natural, clean but worn-in, musky and rich and dense. Like a man, more and more each time, and I growled happily around him, savoring the taste of his big, slow-leaking piece as I slid my lips down the veiny, pulsing length of my boy. He moaned and clutched the back of my head, letting me glide up and down on him for a couple minutes, three of his fingers plugging my tingling, hungry Dad hole while I worked, slowly squirming inside of me. Then he shifted around on the mattress, stretching out towards my groin, and gave the head of my cock a slow, wet sucking that had my toes curling. 69ing with my boy was one of those sweet, intense pleasures that had a permanent place in my mental highlight reel, but Damon had other plans. He was a little longer in the torso than me, long and limber enough to spit my cock out and nuzzle his way up past my balls, his long tongue lapping at my spit-wet taint, through the fur and up to my hole, following the path of saliva he’d laid down a little while ago, refreshing it as he slipped his fingers from the ring of muscle and replacing them with his tongue, licking his way back into me.
Your kid’s eating you out while you swallow his cock, Doug, that lusty voice in my head said. You know what that means, don’t you, buddy.
Yeah, I knew what it meant. I was no fool. I knew what he wanted, and more than that, I knew I wanted it too. Maybe even more than he did.
The practiced, self-assured way Damon squirted lube onto his cock made my insides churn with a complicated mix of love and lust. Awe, too - awe of the man I’d made, the man he’d become. A good son, a good man, and an excellent lover. He looked up at me as he slicked the big, handsome length of his young cock up, giving me that panty-dropper of a smile he had. I held my own superhard cock in my hand, not stroking, just reminding myself of what my boy could do to me - do for me. I watched him squirt another stream of lube down on the backs of the three fingers he was still slowly working inside of me, pushing the slick, cool stuff into me, up into that space no other man had touched for twenty years, before him. The way he worked my hole open, prepping it with that skilful self-confidence, I knew it now - my hole was his. And my son knew it too, as those big warm brown eyes met mine, biting his lip a little as he worked his long, lubed fingers up deep inside me, spreading the stuff around, spreading me open for him.
“Yeah Dad,” he grunted as he pushed up into me. It wasn’t nearly as tough as the first few times this past summer, because once my boy’s big cock had tripped that old switch inside of me, he’d made a believer out of me all over again. Just like my old buddy Anderson had, back when I was 20, in the back of an old Army Ram pickup, parked deep in the pine trees in a sandy, forgotten corner of Fort Bragg. Changing my perspective, making me feel things I never thought I’d feel about myself. Making me touch myself when I was alone, reliving the intensity of the sensations inside of me, making me cum like a teenager all over again.
The way Damon had fucked me last summer, fucked me and filled me, had awoken that feeling in me again. I’d kept it up as best as I could these past few months, with my fingers and a toy, jerking myself off as I probed up deep inside of myself, feeling lewd, feeling dirty, feeling on fire. Ready for my boy to come back home and come to me like this again.
So it was easier now, yeah, because I knew I wanted this - no, needed it. Needed the slick, throbbing, hot press of his hard young flesh entering me, nothing but a slick layer of lube separating our skin as my handsome stud kid rocked his hips and fed me seven hard inches. It was easier, but no less intense, and I had to squeeze my cock firmly to stem the imminent flow of my cum. My toes curled and I moaned huskily, and my boy moaned right back with me.
“So fuckin’ tight,” he hissed, biting his lip again, his eyes somehow hungry and soft at the same time as he worked that big, hungry young dick of his up into my depths.
“So fuckin’ big,” I grunted back, and the pleased look on his face made me smile. The same look he got when he received a compliment on a job well done, a look I knew well from these past twenty years or so. For the thousandth time since we’d gotten deep like this, I felt the powerful twinning of paternal pride and intense manly lust, that taboo thrill stoking the fires inside of me along with his cock.
As always, when he was complimented on his work, my boy set about trying to do an even better job. Once he was fully embedded inside me, the trimmed dark fur of his bush meshing with the hair on my balls, he leaned down to buzz his lips over mine.
“I love being inside you, sir,” he said, quiet and deep. “Love being your man, Dad.”
“You’re one hell of a man, buddy,” I murmured back, flicking my tongue against those sensuous lips of his. “My man, son.”
“Aw Dad,” he grunted, and kissed me hard as he pulled his athletic hips back, then fed me all of that handsome young dick again in one smooth, firm, deep thrust, and we were off and running.
My cock was drooling precum all over my stomach, throbbing back to full hardness as Damon stroked his cock over my spot, up deeper inside of me, giving me that intense sensation of fullness to go along with the powerful glow of pleasure on a slow burn all through my loins. I couldn’t touch myself, because I was in this for the full ride right along with him.
Instead, I ran my hands over the bulging mass of his upper arms, his muscle-rounded shoulders, over the smooth, sweat-glowing muscles of his square young pecs. I admired the flex and shift of his defined abs, the way his hips articulated, the lusty, deep, intent look on his handsome face as his gaze roved up and down my torso, from where his cock pistoned in and out of my tight hole, up past the hard, leaking stretch of my father cock, over the still-firm muscles of my chest, all dusted in manly fur. Then up to meet my eyes, nodding at me, both of us feeling the essential rightness of what we were doing. Not just the rightness of him fucking me - but god damn, it was so right - but the rightness of being so close, so deep, a father and son coupling in sweaty, incestuous heat. I’d never felt this way with anybody else. Not just pleasured - connected.
We alternated between low, lusty murmuring, then stretches of wordlessness, just pants and grunts and the slap of flesh against flesh, the slick sound of a big cock breaching a well-lubed hole repeatedly.
“Nobody else, Dad,” he half-grunted, half-moaned, his body a machine built for pleasure, sleek and strong and precise, fucking us both up to that fast-approaching peak. “Nobody ever… fuck… never this good…”
“Nobody like you, son,” I grunted back, reaching up to stroke the sweaty side of his face, his eyes boring deep into mine, all flushed and panting and beautiful. “No other man.. no-one…”
“Your man, Dad,” he gasped, fucking harder, deeper, faster. “Wanna be yours. Can I, Dad? Can I be your man?”
“Fuck,” I growled, feeling the intensity of what he was saying rippling through me, riding the crest of my onrushing orgasm. Fueling it. “You already are, buddy. Daddy’s man. My man. Always have been.”
“Always,” he hissed through clenched teeth, and I couldn’t miss the emphasis he put on that. Always. Yeah. It was a huge idea, huge and wrong and deep, and so fucking right. I knew it was never going to be this good with anybody else. Hell, I’d probably known it since that first summer, when we’d first cum together.
“You gonna make your man cum, son?” I grunted. “Show me how good you are?”
“Fuck yes,” he growled, taking hold of my hips more firmly, tilting them up to dick me even deeper. We were both well and truly in the red zone now. No stopping. No turning back. Not that either of us could. Not that either of us wanted to. “Gonna make you cum, Dad. Make my man cum so good…”
Damon slid one hand up to cup the back of my head, possessive and determined, his face full of lust and love and the deep, secret history of our incestuous bond. On fire with it. He loved this as much as, maybe even more than I did. Being his father’s man.
“Cum for your man, Dad,” he grunted. “Show me how much you love this. How much you love who we are.”
“You and me, son,” I grunted right back, my hand around my cock now, strumming it, scaling that last peak. “Bein’ men together.”
“Fuck yeah, family men,” he growled. “Together, Dad. Always. Fuck!”
That pretty much did it for me, that and the intensity of his cock pounding my prostate, the handsome face of the boy - the man - I’d made and raised and loved like no other. Fucking me like the man he was. My man. My son. Mine.
My cum came blasting out of my cock, hot ropes of it, painting my chest with thick, pearly streaks as I clutched my hardon with one hand and his hard arm with the other, gasping as I shot one of the most powerful loads of my life, clear up to my collarbone.
“Yeah, Dad, yeah,” Damon grunted with a lusty grin, then a determined look on his handsome face. He ran his hand up from my hip, all through the thick streaks of cum on my torso, then slid it back down, all warm and sticky, taking firm hold of my hip again and setting a hammering pace inside of me.
“Fuckin’ cummin’ in my man,” he moaned through gritted teeth, then his mouth dropped open into a wide O, his dark brows knitting, all the firm, strong muscles in his arms and torso straining in sharp relief as he plunged his cock to the root inside of me.
“Ah Dad!” he gasped as he flooded me with his young stud cum, throbbing and spurting deep inside of me. Not the only man who’d ever fucked me, but the only man to ever claim me like that. No matter what I thought or said, I knew that for a fact, now. I was his. He was mine.
Damon stayed inside me as we folded around each other, my cooling cum pasting our torsos together as we kissed, deep and slow, the kind of long, languid makeout we both loved, all tongues and slow-flowing spit and satisfied grunts and murmurs. He stroked the sweaty side of my face as we traded tongues, and again, I felt that intense sense of pride at the lover my son had become - the man he was. A man I’d helped shape, sure, but all of this came natural to him. It was deep inside him, like we were deep inside each other.
When his cock eventually softened and slipped from me, I felt its absence intensely. I watched him reach down between my thighs, felt the trickle of his cum leaking from me, the swipe of his thumb across the puffy tingle of my hole sending shivers through my loins. When he brought his cum-slicked thumb up to my face, grinning with sexy confidence, and slipped his seed into my mouth, I nearly gasped at the natural, unselfconscious power of my stud kid.
“So what do you say, Dad?” he said after another round of slow, sticky kisses, his hand caressing the big muscle of my chest, tracing through the cum, sweat and fur there. Something both loving and possessive in it. I was his, inside and out, and he was mine. No question about that, anymore. “Can I move in here with you, or what?”
God damn, there was something so powerful and sensual about that whole idea. Not just him sleeping in here with me, or sharing the bed. Sharing each other, fully. Men of the house, together. I hadn’t shared my bed that way with anyone since I’d divorced his mother, and hell, for quite a while before that, to be honest. Hadn’t felt right with anyone else. But with him, with my boy - my man - in the moment, I knew.
“We could be so good together, big guy,” he murmured, ducking his head to press his lips to my chest, those big brown eyes getting to me like they always did. “We’re too good together already not to give it a shot.”
I cupped the back of his head and gave him a level look.
“If we do, I’m still your father, you know,” I said. “No matter what else we do, or are together, that comes first.”
“Always, Dad,” he smiled, stretching up to brush his lips over mine. “Always my father. Always my man. And I’ll always be your son, no matter what.”
“You’ll always be my man, big guy,” I grinned, loving the big smile that spread across his handsome young face.
“Gonna show you, you’ll see, Dad,” he murmured against my lips, teasing them. I knew he meant it - he was always good like that - and the idea of how he intended to show me sent another electric thrill through my core.
“But if you want to make me come first sometimes, that’d be cool too,” he grinned.
“Yeah, I think that can probably be arranged,” I chuckled, folding my arms around him and pulling him back into me to see where we went next.
Special thanks to my Bro @pagespermer for inspiring me to do this one.
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This one goes out to one reader in particular. You know who you are ;)
“I don’t think you know how good you got it, kid.”
I frowned behind my shades, as I half-watched Marcus leaning on the side of the pool below me, his forearms all thick with beefy muscle, brushstrokes of dark hair pasted to the skin of them. Water beaded in the short, dark thickness of his hair, and the full, manly beard he’d been cultivating since his senior year. It looked real good on him. All of him looked real good, the way he’d kept his playing-days muscle, solidifying that natural beefiness he had. Swells of muscle, thick padded for the blunt-force impacts of football. And now that he was strength-coaching the team over at Tech, he still had an excuse to live in the weight room, and it showed. Amply.
He looked amazing, better than ever. But I fucking hated being called ‘kid’.
“How so, Junior?” I shot back, exhaling the lungful of weed smoke before reclining back into the lounger, hands up behind my head, soaking in the rays. He hated being called Junior, the nickname that had stuck to his ass until he left for college. So we were even, I guess.
I saw his big, dark brows knot briefly, before he shrugged it off and went on.
“You got the summer mostly off, the folks out of town, the house to yourself, this fuckin’ pool… talk about livin’ the life,” he said.
“Gotta make use of it while I can,” I shrugged. “Besides, if you’d gone to school at Tech like me, you could’ve had all this too, bro.”
Marcus had always been a little pissed that our folks downsized after he moved to Georgia for school. Especially when he found out the new place had this killer pool. I was just stoked not to have so much grass to mow. The pool was a huge side benefit.
“And it’s not like you don’t get the benefit now, anyway,” I went on. “You’ve had your share of fun here, bro. Shit, you’ve been over here nearly every day since they left town. Not that I mind, or nothin’.”
“Gee, thanks Dad,” he said with an exasperated smirk, and I felt my cock twinge in my board shorts.
The fuck is that about? I thought, looking down at my crotch. I mean… I get a good dose of the throbs around Marcus anyway, I guess. Have done for a long time. He’s a hell of a lot of dude. And we have some pretty interesting history between us. Real recent history, too.
Last night, for instance, he came over after work for a swim, we wound up grilling out, having a couple drinks, and about an hour later, we were in my bed, big Marcus huffing and puffing and sweating as he inched his big, fat ex-linebacker cock up my ass. It had been awhile, but his girl had broken up with him recently, and I was feeling sorry for the big lug, and also super horny, and like I said, we got a lot of history between us, so it was no big deal to shoot a couple loads with each other like that. Having him fall asleep in my bed, those meaty forearms wrapped round me as he spooned into me, was an unexpected bonus. And it wasn’t weird at all this morning, making coffee before he headed back to work, still in last night’s clothes. It felt good, actually. I’d never had that with anybody before. My first real overnighter. And it was with my big brother.
So when he turned up this evening with his overnight bag and a kind of sheepish grin on his face, I was cool with it. Very cool. We didn’t talk about it, but there was that vibe between us. Like in the old days. Like the summer he came home from school, our first summer here in the new place, and he’d wound up copping my cherry in this very pool while the folks were out at dinner one night. Or the next summer, after he graduated, before he got his first coaching job down in Texas, and we’d fucked around pretty much the entire summer break, even though he was kind of seeing a girl at the time.
I was cool with all that, and very cool when he stripped off poolside tonight and dropped in bareass. Honestly, I don’t know why I hadn’t thought of that, but the folks had only been gone a couple days, and I hadn’t quite gotten around to going full-native yet. Seeing my big, muscled, hairy-chested lug of a big bro do it was pretty damn inspiring, though. And now I was hard in my shorts for real, not just a twinge, as I watched him haul one foot up onto the side of the pool to hoist his big, sexy, naked ass out. The deep dimple in the side of that beefy, thick-muscled rump of his… the way those brawny glutes of his flexed as he climbed out, water streaming down them… a guy could get used to seeing a sight like that.
I was hitching at the hard length of my cock in my shorts, kind of zoned out, staring at the epicness of Marcus’ man ass, wondering what it would be like to make him flex it up for me while I pawed it, licked it, ate it, fucked it… when I saw him snapping his fingers, a bemused grin on his face.
“Huh?” I said, dumbly.
“I said, I’m getting a beer, kid. Do you want one?”
“Yeah, sure,” I said, blushing, even though we were cool, and he’d already done a lot of those things to my ass, last night and other summers. “And dude, quit calling me ‘kid.’ I liked it a lot better when you called me Dad.”
Dude, the fuck? I thought, and knew it was time to put the bowl down. But still… yeah. Fuck. I had kind of liked that. And like… as awesome as it was to clutch those big, furry mounds of pec muscle of his as he loomed over me, that lusty grin on his handsome face as he plowed my tail, idly thinking in my mind that this must be what it would be like to get fucked by Dad… there was a part of me that wanted to fuck him. Not just fuck him, to really take him, make the big chunk of beef mine for the night. I was nowhere near as big as him, I’d topped out at 160 and wasn’t super hairy or anything - it was like Marcus got all the throwback genes to our Scottish ancestors, passed down the line through Dad to him, and fuck, he’d look good in a kilt tossing a caber or something like that at the Highland Games…
“Oh you did, huh?” Marcus said, this funny little smile on his face as he looked at me, that big ol’ dick of his dangling down and dripping water on the tile. And then it twitched, and started to thicken a little. I was sure it wasn’t the weed making me see things. But before I could scope it out any further, he turned and padded into the kitchen.
The water was still rippling from his departure, and it looked hypnotic and inviting as hell, and before I could really think about it, I was up on my feet, dropping my shorts, letting the warm evening air caress my body as I dove in. The cool of the water helped shock some of the steel from my cock, woke me up a little, but when I resurfaced and saw Marcus heading back, that big dick definitely more full than it was when he went inside, my own cock began its steady rise again. Something about the look on his face as he took in the sight of me in the water sent a little chill up my spine, in a damn good way. So I watched him, frankly and openly, appreciatively, as he waded his way back in and over to me, a Shiner in each hand.
“Here you go… Dad,” he said as he handed mine to me, with a snarky kind of smile, but that weird gleam in his eye.
“Thanks, Junior,” I said back, smartly.
“I told you, dude, don’t call me that,” he frowned.
“OK… Son,” I grinned, giving him a wink as I took a hit on my beer. My cock twitched again as it reached full hardness, and of course he happened to look down right then and see me, full hard and curving up towards the muscles of my stomach as we floated in the warm water. That grin of his was a little bigger when he looked back up at me, and saw I was checking him out too.
“I kind of like the ring of that… Dad and Son,” I said, my throat a little dry. I was way too high for this, but I couldn’t help myself.
“That right?” he said, his voice low and deep and sexy as hell. I nodded, took another drink to hide my nervousness. Damn, he was sexy as fuck when he got this look in his eyes.
“What do you like about it… dude?” he said, edging a little closer to me, until I found myself backed up against the wall of the pool, and nearly surrounded by 220 pounds of prime ex-jock beef when he rested his elbow up on the edge of the pool beside my head. I felt one of his powerful, hairy thighs brush up against mine, sending an electric surge right up the shaft of my cock.
“I dunno,” I half-stuttered. “I guess… like… maybe…”
“It’s a power thing?” he said, smiling that weird smile. “Like a role reversal?”
I nodded, drank, since I couldn’t find any words. But the more he talked, the more he looked at me with that intent stare, the harder I got. I could feel it in my belly now, all tight and nervy. Excited. Curious.
“The big, hairy muscly guy and the little jock dude, switching it up, huh, little bro?”
I looked him in the eye, and rubbed my thigh up between his, up under his big balls. He grunted at it, and shifted into me a little more. I could feel it in the air between us. We were going to have some serious dude fun tonight. I’d pretty much figured we would, but now I knew for sure, and I knew it was going to be different. More. Something new. I was beyond excited.
“You ever think about fucking around with Dad, bro?” he asked, his eyes gleaming. I blushed. Yeah. I had. Our Dad was big, brawny, rugged, funny, and maybe Marcus was better looking, but Dad had presence. Something about him, and Marcus and me both had a little of that in us. It was one of the cool things about growing up, becoming a man, seeing the good parts of your Dad emerging in you. Traits. Character. Me and Marcus both had quite a bit of Dad in us, but tonight, I felt like I had more. I might not have the huge build, the pure physicality, but I had the presence, I could feel it in me, especially when I took a swig of beer, and then rubbed the still-chilled bottle against Marcus’ big, brown nip. I watched him shudder a little, and I knew I had him.
“What about you?” I said, making my voice a little lower, deeper, huskier. “You ever think about being with your Dad… Son?”
Pure fucking electricity, right there. I felt it, and I know Marcus for damn sure felt it, because I reached down into the water between us and just caught his cock reaching its full hardness. When my hand grazed it, then wrapped slowly around it, he let out a low moan. Nodding as he did.
“You do, huh buddy?” I said, shifting closer into the gap between us, eyes on his, feeling myself fill with that paternal presence our Dad had so much of. Latent within both of us MacDougall boys, but coming out in me now, tonight.
“What do you think about Dad doing to you, son?” I said, slipping my arm round his thick neck and rubbing my hand up over the strong swell of his belly, up to his beefy, steely pecs, through the wet fur on them, as I felt his heart race and his breath get all shallow. It was getting a little darker now, but I was pretty sure my brother was blushing. I teased the stiffening nub of his nip, and felt his breath quicken.
“Kissing me…” he said faintly, huskily. “Touching me… up against me… wrapping his big arms round me.. his big cock all hard up against mine… and then… just… making love to me…”
“Making love” was an expression I never figured I’d hear from big ol’ Marcus, but it was out now, something coming out from deep inside of him, and I could feel that we both wanted to go deeper into that place. Swim into it together, and see what happened.
I leaned into him, his breath huffing warm and beery on my lips as they parted and connected with his, and the whimper that came from him, shading into a husky moan, sent another throb through my cock. Marcus’ tongue pushed into my mouth eagerly, his big arms folding around my smaller frame, and I set my beer bottle next to his on the side of the pool and returned the favor, squeezing my arms around his plush, steely bulk and squeezing firmly as we pushed our way deeper into a long, wet, urgent kiss.
Marcus’ big cock felt like a piece of steel against my own, and for all his extra muscle and thickness and the couple inches he had on me heightwise, we were pretty much evenly matched in the cock department. I’d been one of the bigger guys on my team in high school, top three easily, and for me, the only greater pleasure than admiring and playing with my fat cock was feeling another equally sturdy unit pressed up tight against it. Particularly my big brother’s, and especially right now, as we made out hard and deep in the warm water, arms squeezing, hands stroking, his wet chest fur grazing over my mostly smooth skin, his powerful thighs entwining around mine. I slipped my hands down his back to cup the big twin chunks of steel and beef that he called an ass, furry and deep-dimpled and spectacularly rounded and powerful. He answered by grunting harder into my mouth, even more lustily, and clenching them up for me, making those indents even deeper, a perfect home for the heels of my hands as my fingers spanned over the hairy swells of his glutes.
“You wanna play a game tonight, bro?” he asked huskily, eyes glittering, when we came up from the depths of our intense makeout.
“Fuck yeah I do, Son,” I half-growled, bringing another husky moan from him, as he thrust his cock up against mine even more firmly, and squeezed my glutes in his big paws before kissing me hard again.
“Why don’t we head on inside, Champ?” I said with a grin, using one of Dad’s favorite nicknames for his boys. I swear I could feel him vibrate, hearing that from me, and then he grabbed my hand and practically dragged me out of the pool and into the house.
It was hard to resist making out some more with him, because he was such a good kisser and so damn hungry, but I was just as good to go with this whole game as he was. I felt charged up, full of something bigger than myself - full of Dad, felt like. Full of that presence of his. So I maneuvered him around, pushed between his big shoulders and made him bend over the bed. He automatically assumed a three-point stance - once a football jock, always a football jock - and then his big, sexy ass was literally mine.
I was real glad our pool was saltwater as I buried my face deep in him and put my tongue to serious work. I’d never had the chance to do this to Marcus before, and I made up for lost time, licking and lapping and snorting and nuzzling my way up and down and deeper into that deep, thick, fur-framed trench of his. The noises from up above told me I was doing real well by him, and I sank my fingers deep into the epic flesh of his cheeks, spread him as wide open as I could, and zeroed in on the tight knot of his hole.
“Oh fuck yeah, Dad!” he moaned, as I finally got to taste him inside. Musky, pungent, sharp, all those things a good man ass should taste like, his richness flooding my mouth and making it water even more for him.
My cock was throbbing real hard by now, and I could feel myself starting to leak a little. Much and all as I could’ve spent the rest of the evening with the bulk of my tongue sliding up into his depths, I wanted more. This was my moment, and I was determined to seize it.
“You ready for Daddy to fuck you, Champ?” I said, wiping the excess spit off my face as I fisted my cock.
Marcus swung his head around, looking almost surprised, like he really hadn’t expected me to go so deep with this. Like he wasn’t truly thinking he was gonna give his ass up to his little bro. Not even when his little bro was being his Dad for the night. Well, I had news for him. Seven inches of news, freshly spit-slicked and raring to go.
“Oh man, I don’t -” he started, but I ran my hand up the length of his spine and rubbed the back of his neck and head soothingly, even as I was rubbing the dripping head of my cock to his spit-wet hole.
“Shhhh, Son,” I said. “Let Daddy take care of you, buddy. I promise, you’ll like it.”
My bedside table was just within arm’s reach, and I fumbled my lube out of the drawer, popping the cap off and pouring a slick stream of it down into his crack, letting it slide down and flow over the head of my cock, where I could rub it into him even further. Then, one hand on the thickness of his hip for balance, the other on the glossy shaft of my cock, I pressed against him more firmly.
“Bear down, big guy,” I said huskily. “Let Daddy inside you, Champ.”
At that, he kind of whimpered, and I felt his hole flex, just minutely at first, then more as he bore down, and all of a sudden, I was inside him. My cock sliding up into the one ass I’d fantasized most about since I was in my horny, horny teens. I could have cum then and there, but I had that feeling still within me, filling me to bursting, like I was about to fill Marcus. My boy, my son for tonight. All mine. Beyond that, who knew? Tonight was all that mattered. The further I got inside him, inching my way up into the hot tightness of my brother, the deeper I felt it. That sense of power. That presence. Filling me up, as I filled the big guy. An incredible mix of power, lust, even love for the big lug. A feeling I tried to share with him, as I made my way fully inside of him for the first time, feeling him hot and tight and slick and clamping down all around me, as I took hold of his beefy hips and began my lusty work on him.
I knew Marcus had bottomed before, but it wasn’t really big in his repertoire. Still, after a few minutes, him feeling uncomfortable and me feeling like I wanted to breed him until he bore my children, he started to get into it, to pick up on my rhythm and find one of his own, until he was working his way back on me, meeting me in the middle, the bed shaking and the room filling with our grunts, curses, moans, the slap of my hip against his ample flesh.
I grinned, palmed some sweat off my forehead, and smacked his ass for good measure. I was loving this, loving every single aspect of it - but most of all, I was loving the play between us. The feeling of power, of control, of that deep presence, flowing up out of me and into him, through the thrusting, throbbing thickness of my cock. For tonight, my Dad cock.
“Ah fuck yeah, Dad!” Marcus growled. It sounded like a bad porno. But it felt fucking amazing, as he tightened up and flexed those beautiful glutes of his, so I alternated fuckstrokes with slaps on his well-padded buns, riding the wave of the vibe with him even deeper, harder, faster.
I could have done this all night, felt like I could have come inside of him and just kept on rockin’, but I made the mistake of reaching around his bulk to feel his cock, to see if he was still as hugely hard as he had been a little while ago. He was, maybe even more so.
“Aw yeah buddy, you’re so fuckin’ hard for Daddy, huh?” I grunted, giving him a slick-palmed stroke or two, and then I saw, and felt, his big chunky muscles tighten up all over.
“Oh shit…. aw Dad!” he moan-wailed, and then I felt that big piece of his throb double-hard in my hand, and then he was firing off, spurting ropes of thick cum all over my sheets, past the mattress and onto the carpet on the other side of my bed.
I felt his insides clenching rhythmically around me, squeezing my superhard cock, and between that and the sight of his muscles bulging, the beads of sweat popping across his big, bulky shoulders, the pure depth and heat in the way he called me “Dad,” it was all over for me too. I felt wave after wave of heat and electricity pulsing through me as I erupted, flowing spurt after spurt of cum into his core as I moaned out his name. Son. In that moment, nothing more, nothing less than my son. Fuck.
Marcus was resting on his forearms, his head hung low, still panting as he regained his breath, while I tried to do the same above him. I ran my hand up his back, feeling him shiver - or maybe he flinched, it was hard to tell the difference right then. Slowly, I slipped out of him, my cock still rubbery, half-hard and glazed with my cum. I reached down to squeeze his big ass, gratefully and affectionately, and he finally looked over his shoulder at me. He was flushed, wide-eyed, almost disbelieving.
“Dude…” was all he could say. Like he didn’t have any more words than that.
I was worried, real worried. Had I pushed it too far? Was it gonna trip over from freaky-hot to freaky-weird in his brain now that it was over, now that he had what felt like a quart of my cum inside of him? Shit, yeah, it was a strange situation, for sure. I mean, we were brothers. Brothers who fucked. That was enough as it was, never mind… all this. The roles. The names. The words. The feel of him surrendering his big, beefy jock tail to me the way he did. The easy way I just took it. Took it like I was Dad, aggressive and charming and confident and committed.
Fuck. Even with the red mist of our fuck slowly clearing… I knew I felt good about it. Damn good.
“Fuck, Marky,” I said quietly, using an old name for him I hadn’t done since I was a kid. I smiled hesitantly. And them, thank Christ, he slowly smiled back.
“Dude,” he said again, raising up on his knees. The fur on his big, thick pecs and muscle-rounded belly was damp with sweat and salty pool water. His big cock dangled, spent, still drooling a little cum from the big blunt tip of it. “That was fucking intense.”
I grinned, then chuckled, then began to laugh as he joined me. He reached out with his big paw, slipped his thick forearm round my waist, and pulled me back onto the bed and into his arms, pressing his lips to mine. I eagerly took his big, agile tongue, and we made out with a slow, deep ease. I could feel that post-fuck glow well and truly settling in over us both. That felt good, but more than that, he felt good. We felt good.
“You throw one hell of a fuck, kid,” he said after a while.
“I told you before, dude - don’t call me that,” I said with a mock frown. “Call me Dad.”
“How long you gonna keep that up?” he said, rolling his eyes, but smiling.
“All night, maybe,” I said, deepening my voice a little to try and match Dad’s gravelly baritone. “Longer, even. Depends on what you want… Son.”
“All night, huh?” he said, getting that gleam in his eyes again. His arms tightened around me, pulling me even deeper into the plushness of his big body.
“Long as you want it to, Champ,” I grinned back, feeling his big paws slip down to cup and squeeze my ass. “Besides… haven’t you always wanted to fuck your Dad too, big guy?”
“Dude, I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into,” he growled, leaning in to lick the sweat off the side of my neck as I moaned and shivered in his big, powerful arms.
“Pretty sure I do, kid,” I murmured in his ear. “But why don’t you go ahead and show Daddy what you’ve learned, Champ?”
Growling and laughing, Marcus pinned me back into the mattress and set to work, showing me what an attentive son my big bro could be.
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He was hungry. Hungry for me. Every time we were alone, every time he thought I wasn’t looking, he’d stare at me. It had been that way for two days. I could have taken the edge off for him, let him get his fill as soon as I got home, but that wouldn’t have been right. The waiting was a part of it.
I’d learned a lot, about myself, about him, about this, about us. I wasn’t a horny 16-year-old kid anymore, getting my big dick drained in the high school parking lot, in the garage, down in the woods beside the trail around the lake. Getting it drained whenever I wanted it, drained well, by a pro. By him.
All that was hot - of course it’s hot, you’re a walking hardon when you’re 16, a cum factory on legs. Nobody swallowed my cock the way he did - and I’m a big boy, I got a lot to swallow. He took me down to my pubes the first time out, and when I fired off my load within minutes, he kept me there, nursing my big, sticky, leaking cock back to another full-blown hardon. Then he sucked a second load from me.
At first, I figured that was it - I was a big, horny kid getting his balls emptied on the regular, and of course I liked that. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized it was bigger than that. There was more to it. It wasn’t just about me - it was about him too. Him, looking at me hungrily, seeking permission, reaching for the bulge of my cock, for my fly. Him, sinking to his knees, his eyes fixed on my big young dick as it emerged from my underwear. Big, hard, the head all shiny.
It wasn’t just about the head - it was about the power. The need. His need. Mine. Yeah, I needed my dick sucked. Yeah, he needed to suck dick. Most of all, we both needed him to suck mine.
I fucking loved that.
It was a warm night, and I knew exactly what I was doing when I got out of the shower and slipped on an old wife-beater and some loose old shorts. Well, they used to be looser, but not so much, not since I was working out on college-linebacker level. My ass, my thighs, my chest, my arms, my shoulders were all much bigger than they used to be. Sometimes I swore my dick was bigger, but that couldn’t be right. Maybe all those hungry suckjobs had helped.
No underwear. Tonight was the night. Time to give him what he craved. And I’d been thinking about it, for awhile now, ever since I’d fucked our second-string kicker on his frathouse bed way back at the start of last semester - fucked him and a whole lot more than that too - it was time to give him some more. Maybe he wasn’t thinking he wanted that, but I was confident he would, once we got there. The way his hands had started feeling up and down my big, thick thighs, crawling up the strong muscles of my stomach as he swallowed me, stared up at me with his eyes all watery and worshipful - there was more going on in his mind than swallowing my big linebacker cock.
Just thinking about that made my dick all thick and full and heavy in my shorts. I was kicked back in the armchair, watching some bullshit on TV, but really watching the bulge in my shorts grow. Feeling myself starting to surge, grow, tingle. Waiting for him to come in. And then I heard the back door creak open, swing closed, and there he was.
“Hey, bud,” he said. “Where is everybody?”
“Some church thing, I dunno,” I said with a smile. Already, he was looking me over, all slouched down in the seat, my big bulge growing even as we spoke. My powerful thighs spread. Arms laid out on the armrests. Ready.
“They won’t be back for a couple hours,” I went on, meeting his eyes, giving him a deeper smile. I wasn’t arrogant, or pushy about this - I knew it was gonna happen, and so did he. The vibe was good between us generally, and times like this, when it started getting deep, it was even better. This had made us closer, weird as it sounds.
“Oh yeah?” he said, his voice husky, a little catch in it.
“Yeah,” I nodded, still smiling, and then just like that, Dad was falling to his knees in front of me, reaching out for my knees, laser-focused on the growing bulge of my cock, straining at my shorts.
“Go for it, big guy,” I said, and that was all the permission he needed, as he leaned in and buried his face in the fork of my crotch.
I sighed, grunted as his mouth began to trace over the shape of my cock through the nylon of my shorts. Already, his hands were sliding up and down my thighs, feeling their bigness, fingers edging up towards the loose openings of the legs. I brought my hand down to the close-cropped hair on the back of his handsome head, urging him even deeper.
Dad was a big guy - I’d got my size from him. Big, and still in good shape, handsome, an upstanding ex-jock suburban father of three. Loved his wife. But that was all outside shit. In here, alone with me, he loved my cock best of all. I was the one who got to see this secret side of him, and already my shorts were getting soaked with his spit as he ran his hungry tongue up my almost fully hard bulge. I cupped the back of my head and gently, but firmly, pulled it back. Still smiling as I looked him in his eyes, which were already half-hazed with his lust for my big young jock dick.
“You want more, big guy?” I said, low and deep. He just nodded, and scooted back a little to watch me stand up, slowly, looming over him, letting him take in the power of my big young linebacker’s frame, my bigger muscles, my manliness. And most of all, close to nine thick inches of cock, straining at the spit-wet front of my old shorts.
“Why don’t you go ahead and show me, Dad?” I murmured, and he half-grunted, half-whimpered, already reaching for my shorts.
“Yeah… I know what you’ve been craving,” I went on, as I started to peel my wife-beater up my big torso, then dropped it on the chair behind me. “You’ve been waiting for me to come home so we can do this again, haven’t you, big guy?”
“Ah son,” he moaned, and I let him reach for the waistband of my shorts.
He didn’t rush it, just slowly pulled them down, exposing the thickness of my golden bush, pulling the shorts down until the base of my cock showed, the hard length of my dick all pulled down by the waistband, giving me that pleasant twinge deep inside it. I know he was hungry for it, needed to see it, but he almost teased himself. It was all part of this. Teasing it out, ratcheting up the intensity inside of himself. And then the elastic pulled down past my head, and my cock snapped up, slapping into my stomach with an audible sound that made him grunt again. He slid the shorts the rest of the way down my powerful thighs, until I stepped out of them and stood totally naked, and hard, before my father. Feeling real powerful, like a god or something.
“Suck it, Dad,” I said, reaching for the back of his head to guide him close. It was such a trip, seeing the big, confident, take-charge stud reduced to a stare-eyed, lust-fogged cocksucker. A trip and a huge turnon. “Suck your boy’s cock.”
Dad wrapped his big paw around my thickness, and I grunted at the feeling, before he opened wide and sucked me down to the root. I remember seeing a nature documentary not long after we started doing this, with this jungle snake that unhinged its jaw to swallow a pig whole, and I immediately thought of Dad and boned the fuck up, and then I looked over at him sitting in this very armchair, blushing as he looked back at me, trying not to let the rest of the family see his own big hardon growing in his jeans. That night, after everyone else went to bed, he sucked two big teen cumloads from me in the garage, in the dark. He’d gotten even better at it since then, too.
He didn’t rush it now, but he didn’t drag it out either - just a slow, smooth, appreciative sweep down the length of me, from the tip to the base, until his nose was buried in my already sweaty pubes. I let out a deep, low moan, getting one from him in return as he opened his eyes and looked up at me, feeling my approval. I smiled and rubbed the back of his head.
“Good boy, Dad,” I murmured, and he whimpered and sucked me harder. Fuck yeah.
Dad kept stroking and squeezing my thighs as he worked my cock over in his usual talented way, and when I flexed my quads up for him some, he moaned even deeper around my dick. I knew my instincts were right, and I throbbed my cock in his throat to let him know how I was cool with that. Then I reached down, took one of his hands, the one with his wedding ring on it, and drew it slowly upwards. Up past the top of my thigh, over the edge of my bush, then up into the thick fur that carpeted my lower belly. I’d been leaning out a little, my abs were showing pretty damn well from under my regular beef, and I helped his hand explore over them, tracing the faint cuts of the muscle, before I drew it up even further. When it reached the patch of blond hair between the meat of my big pecs, I felt his fingers curl into it, and I let him do that for a minute, before moving his hand over my chest. Through the hair, over the thick muscle, down to the stiffness of my nip. We’d never gone this far - I’d never taken us this far before. He kept up a low stream of moans the whole time, working doubletime on my rod, his spit beginning to soak my big, cum-filled balls and drip onto the hardwood below us.
I guided his hand over to my other pec, my other nip, and his fingertips found it and began to tweak it on their own. I let his hand go, let it do its work, dropped both mine to the back of his head and fed him some more son dick. grunting deeply at him as he tweaked and twisted the thick stiffness of my nip. I felt the charge of it run through me, all the way to my cock, and from the husky grunt he let out, I knew I was trickling precum down his talented, hard-working throat.
“Damn, you suck my cock so good, Dad,” I growled. “So fuckin’ good. Like nobody else. ‘Cos you love sucking your boy’s big dick, don’t you, Dad?”
His eyes met mine, and he grunted in agreement. Sucked me deeper. I felt myself shudder, that real deep, real good feeling that I almost never got from anybody else like this. Just my Dad, working his magic on my big fucking dick. But now I knew there could be more, and I was going to show him that.
I took a firmer grip of his head in my hands, and started to slowly fuck his face. Easing him into it, at first, because I’m a big boy and I’m not an asshole. But picking up the pace, giving him solid, face-fucking thrusts, until my big balls were slapping his chin, and his big hands were gripping my ass as it flexed, not just holding on, but pushing me deeper.
“You know, Dad,” I grunted as I fucked his talented mouth, “I love how you suck my cock. But… I bet there’s more we could do. More ways you could make your boy feel good.”
He kind of frowned up at me, and I pulled my cock slowly out of his mouth, all slicked up and literally dripping, ropes of Dad’s spit hanging off it when it came free. He coughed, cleared his throat, and looked like he was about to say something, still frowning.
“Come on, Dad,” I said, before he could say anything. I reached down, tucked my hands into his armpits and pulled him up, like he was a kid. Then I walked naked, my big hard spit-slicked dick leading the way, into my bedroom.
I didn’t have to wait long. I was standing in front of the full-length mirror on the closet door, checking myself out, liking the progress on my body this last season. Knowing he liked what he saw too, which made it twice as good. Twice as hot. I felt studly as fuck, and when he appeared in my doorway, looking kind of sheepish but also a little hypnotized by the sight of his big young football player son, naked and bone-hard, waiting for him. He shuffled slowly, silently into my room, pushing the door closed behind him, and I knew he was mine.
Stay tuned for Part II...
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This one’s inspired by a suggestion from the master himself, Bill Drake.
I still felt a little bit awkward around them, but the boys - well, the men, I guess - couldn’t have been more at ease. It’s just how they were, how they’d always been. Connected, together, big and happy and totally comfortable in their skin. Since they were in high school, I guess, and it had just grown deeper over time between them. Not a phase, like I’d initially thought - Bennett was 30 now, and Davis was coming up right behind him, and it looked like they were in it for the long haul together. A couple. Brothers and partners.
I watched them splash around down at the base of the waterfall - one of their favorite places, and they’d been excited to show it to me. This was my first time out in Hawaii since my honeymoon with their mother. Ancient history, like the marriage now. The boys had been out here for almost a year, in a nice little house on a hillside, a mango tree in the yard. Two bedrooms - one for me, and one for them. The first time they’d really been explicitly open as a couple around me. Something that had nagged at the back of my mind since they were younger, and first getting into the depth of their brotherly bond. Becoming the couple they were now, in hindsight.
We hadn’t really talked about it, because how do you broach that subject with your own sons? Instead, they just kind of put themselves out there for me to accept. Ben’s big arm slung round his younger brother’s thick neck with unmistakable intimacy. Their bare knees pressed companionably together on the sofa on their deck. The way Ben’s hand moved from the Jeep’s stickshift to Davis’ thigh on the drive up here. All the visual cues of a couple very much in love.
We hadn’t talked about it, because I didn’t know how. But last night, my first night, as they’d leaned against the deck railing either side of me, the three of us listening to the ocean, looking down at the lights, when Ben’s thick arm slipped round my waist on one side, and then Davis’ on the other, I went with it. Went with the slow surge of my paternal cock in my shorts, thickening faster as Davis’ lips pressed softly to the muscle of my shoulder.
“We’re glad you’re here, Dad,” Ben had said from the other side, and when I turned to smile at him, already feeling the flush of excitement and nerves on my face, he leaned in and kissed my lips, slow and soft.
“Glad you’re with us, big guy,” Davis said, and I turned to see his handsome face, so much like his big brother’s, leaning in to press his lips to mine.
It had been happening like this for years. I’d gotten sucked into the incestuous intimacy of their bond, first when Ben came home from his freshman year at State, when I came across the two of them making out down in the basement, and somehow found myself drawn in with them. Led by my pulsing father cock, and the memories of how things used to be with my own brothers, back in the day. I still to this day shot regular loads remembering the look on Davis’ face as Ben fucked his load out of him right in front of me. The hungry, needy look on his handsome young features as he drew me in to kiss him, his cum still spurting, hitting my stomach as I tasted my youngest son’s tongue for the first time. The way Ben’s big hands covered mine on Davis’ bare hips and squeezed. The way the two of them had made me cum that night.
Last night had been just as intense as ever, intense and exciting. So taboo, which fueled the heat even further. But there was more to it than the taboo - there was the feeling of being privileged to witness something more, to be invited into the unbreakable bond between two handsome, muscular young men. They’d folded themselves around me, a symphony of hands and lips and tongues and cocks, young muscles and fur pressed tightly to me. Slipping up into the tightness of my youngest was a singular experience, made even more so by the feeling of my eldest’s big, blunt-tipped cock pressing insistently at my own tightness. Pressing, nudging, then breaching my hole. Filling me up slowly, skilfully, fucking the load right out of me and up inside of Davis as the boys licked and kissed and nuzzled at the sweat of my skin.
Nobody had ever fucked me like my eldest son. Few had ever fucked me fullstop, but Ben set to it with passion, intensity, and skill. Making sure I got off before he did. Making me feel things inside nobody else ever had. Especially when I looked up at his face, and saw the echoes of my own father so strong in his handsome young features. Looking just like the first man I’d ever had a crush on. Whispering, “Cum for me, big guy,” the same thing my own father had always called me, saying the words I’d always wanted my own father to say.
So I always felt a little awkward after one of my encounters with my sons. But more so than ever before, today. Because as Ben had fucked a second load into me last night, big muscles bulging and aglow with sweat as he loomed over me and rocked his thick cock inside of me, he’d called me “big guy”. And before I knew what I was doing, not even thinking, I’d moaned out the word “Daddy”, and the two of us had come with a fiery intensity, Ben’s eyes going big at the sound of that word. Such a heavy word. So freighted.
We hadn’t said anything more about it, but Ben had cradled my own big body up against his as we slept, Davis pressed against my front, and the last thing I remembered before drifting off into sleep, soothed by Ben’s big hands rubbing my stomach and chest, was the feeling of his lips grazing the side of my neck, up to my ear, and the deep warmth of his voice, whispering to me.
“Everything’s gonna be alright, big guy.”
I watched my boys now, at ease down there in the water together, and wondered how everything could be alright now. Now that Ben had scratched my surface a little deeper than either of us had expected. But when they looked up to see me watching them, smiled, and waved me down, I went to them anyway.
The water felt good on my sweaty skin, and I was glad I’d kept in good shape for the hike up here to the falls. I wasn’t as big and defined as the boys were, of course, but they’d inherited their builds from me, and I knew I looked pretty damn good for my age. I tried not to think too much about the ways my sons had enjoyed my body over the years, much less how I’d enjoyed theirs, but all of that was there in the air between us even more strongly this morning. I still felt awkward, but also compelled, drawn into their easy, masculine fraternal bond. Their intimacy. Made welcome by them.
We talked, swam, splashed around, and just as I felt the awkwardness ease a little, receding back beneath the warmth of our familial bond, Davis swam up behind me and eased his big arms around my waist, as Ben surfaced with a big smile, shaking the water out of his thick, dark hair. I felt the heft of Davis’ big young cock against the thickness of my ass, making my own cock thicken in response. Even more so when Ben reached over to squeeze the muscles of my upper arms warmly.
“Last night, Dad, you said something,” he said, and I felt myself blush as I tried to look away, suddenly all hot with shame. But he just touched his fingers to the underside of my chin and drew my face back up to look at him.
“You said something, something deep,” he went on, and god, the combination of his eyes and voice were almost hypnotic. Usually I was the confident one, the man in charge, the one people looked to for the answers. But here, with the boys… it was different. And I found myself welcoming it, the ability to give in a little and just be.
“I don’t know where that came from, buddy,” I said almost weakly, feeling the shame burning crimson all over my face. He just smiled, shook his head lightly.
“Doesn’t matter where it came from, big guy,” he said. “But it came from deep down, didn’t it, Dad? Down in here.”
He tapped my chest, over my heart, for emphasis, and all I could do was nod.
“You’ve been one hell of a father to us, Dad,” he said, shifting in a little closer. “You could have freaked out, knowing your sons were in love with each other. But you didn’t. You could have stopped us, or kicked us out, or shamed us. But you didn’t.”
“You let us be us, Dad,” Davis said from behind me, squeezing his big arms around me. “And we want you to be you. Whoever you want to be, with us.”
“There’s something you wanted when you were younger, isn’t there, Dad?” Ben said, slipping his arms under Davis’ around me, so I was sandwiched between their big young bodies. “Something we got to have with you, because we were lucky. But you never got to have that, did you?”
“The chance to be a son with a dad who loved you deeply,” Davis went on, brushing his lips up and down the side of my neck as Ben leaned in to mirror the gesture on the other side. Jesus, this was intense. My heart was racing, my head starting to spin a little, and all the while, my cock pulsed and throbbed and kept growing and growing inside my board shorts.
“Davey and me, we came out here to be together, Dad,” Ben murmured. “To be family. Maybe raise a family. Be fathers ourselves.”
“Raise a son of our own together, Dad,” Davis said.
“Two fathers… brothers… raising a son together,” Ben said, tilting my chin again and brushing his lips over mine. “Close. The way we wanted to be raised. The way you wanted to be raised too, am I right, big guy?”
I nodded, all swept up in the intensity of the moment, the warm crush of their muscles on either side of me, their hands and lips grazing over my skin. Knowing on a gut level what they were saying. What they wanted to say. What could be… and wanting it. Wanting it bad.
“Maybe it’s time for you to have that, big guy,” Ben said. “Time with your Dad, the way you always wanted.”
“Your Dads,” Davis said into my ear. “Your sons… us… we’d like to be that for you. With you.”
“Would you like to be that with us, big guy?” Ben said, his eyes locked on mine, so deep I felt like I could almost swim in them. “Let your sons be your dads for you?”
I was nodding before I even knew what I was doing. Nodding, and feeling something inside me lift. Something heavy, and old. Ben smiled, and Davis’ lips pressed even more firmly against that spot that always drive me a little nuts, just behind my ear.
“We love you, son,” Ben said, grazing his lips over mine again. “We’ve always loved you.”
“Just relax, let go, and let us, son,” Davis echoed. “Let it be whatever it is.”
“Ah god,” I moaned, feeling like I could cry or cum or both. “I love you guys, you know that? I love you… Dads.”
Jesus, just saying it out loud like that was nearly enough to get me shooting. Davis’ hands slipped inside my shorts to pull them down, as his big brother… my eldest… my son, becoming so fatherly and intimate with me, slipped his thick tongue inside of my mouth, and right there in the moment, it really was like all those feverish teenage dreams I’d had, coming to life. Dreams of my father sweeping me up in his big, thick arms and kissing me deep. Deeper than my brothers did. Deeper than my wife. Kissing me like only a father can kiss his son, full of pride and passion and paternal love.
I felt it, that paternal power, that paternal love, rolling off of my sons as they slipped out of their shorts and against me, naked and hard, the mist of the waterfall fresh on our skin as we kissed and ground and thrust together, whispering intense, passionate words of incestuous love and lust together. Slipping out of the paternal role I’d always filled these past thirty years, and not always easily. Slipping out of that, and into the ease and freedom of being a kid again. A kid finally at one with the father… the fathers… he’d always craved.
There was no shame in letting my sons slide their cocks inside me now, no guilt or awkwardness. They took turns and took their time, fucking me slowly and well on the bank beside the waterfall, kissing and nuzzling and stroking and fucking me with tenderness and heat all mixed up. They were going to make great fathers. Maybe one day they’d bring their son down here to this place, and show him what they were showing me.
“Stay with us, son,” Ben said over me, his big muscles flexing beautifully in the sunlight as he thrust deeper into me. “Stay with us here… be family with us…”
“Help us be good fathers, like you are, son,” Davis said, leaning in to kiss me as Ben nodded and fucked me approvingly.
“We can be whatever we want to be out here, son,” Ben said, and the way they kept saying that, calling me son, every time, it’s like it helped it sink in even more. Who I could be, with them. A chance to explore that thing I’d always craved so much.
“So come be who you want to be with us.. with your dads, son,” Davis said, and this time it was me pulling his handsome face to mine to kiss him, as my balls throbbed and my cock started to shoot, unbidden, all over the sweaty muscles of my stomach.
“Fuck yeah, big guy,” Ben said, fucking up into me, fucking the cum out of me… out of his son, now. “You ready for your dads’ loads, son?”
I nodded as Davis pulled back, crawling down to lick the fresh-shot cum off my stomach, then leaning up to his brother to kiss him and share it back and forth.
“Fuck, our boy’s first load with his dads, baby,” Ben growled lovingly. “So fuckin’ sweet.”
“Just the first of many, right big guy?” Davis grinned down at me, ruffling my sweaty hair paternally as his big brother tensed up all over, dropped his head back, and moaned deep and low as he shot his paternal seed inside of me.
Ben pulled out, his big chest sill heaving,his whole muscular body aglow with sweat, and Davis took his place, sliding his big, thick young cock up inside the cum-slicked tightness of my ass. We locked eyes, and I finally found my voice as I stared at the thick, muscular beauty of him.
“Cum for me, Dad,” I grunted, squeezing his big, bulging upper arms. “Breed your boy… like your husband just did.”
“Aw FUCK!” Davis bellowed, echoing all around us, and his big muscles flexed up hard all over, his face frowning and gaping, eyes locked on mine with that kind of faraway wonder he got when he came.
I almost expected it to feel awkward afterwards, the three of us laying on the cool, moist grass by the water, wrapped up in the postcoital glow. God knows, it should have felt awkward, or weird - not just fucking around with your sons like we’d done, but giving in and giving up the role I’d played more than half my life. Letting my sons assume it, and let me be who I wanted to be. It was a trip, to be sure. But somehow, it didn’t feel awkward at all. It just felt right.
“We weren’t kidding about you coming out here to be with us, son,” Ben said, nuzzling my sweaty temple, and I was relieved to hear him still call me that. Relieved, and excited.
“You could retire, y’know,” Davis said from the other side. “Sell up, and come be with your family. The way you want to be, son.”
“You’ll always be our Dad - that’s never gonna change, big guy,” Ben said. “But we’d love to have you out here with us, to be something more, too. To be this, together.”
“To just be family,” Davis said, and kissed me. “Together, Dad… son.”
I thought about what awaited me back home in Ohio. An empty house, a job I was bored with no matter how well-paid it was. The quiet, kind of solitary life of a divorced, late-middle-aged man. A man who was ready to explore again. For things to be different. To discover… more.
“And what happens when you two finally manage to actually have a son of your own?” I said, one eyebrow raised.
“Well, I guess you’ll have a little brother… and a grandson, big guy,” Ben grinned.
“We’ll work all that out later, when it happens,” Davis laughed. “But right now, we already have a son…”
“One we love very much,” Ben finished. “We’ll show you how much, if you come be with us.”
An adventure, was what all this sounded like. I needed an adventure. I needed more. I needed this. My boys, my family… my men, no matter what we all called ourselves. What roles we played. We were family, and we were together, and that was the greatest adventure of all. One I was ready to start, for sure.
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“You know, Dad,” I grunted as I fucked his talented mouth, “I love how you suck my cock. But… I bet there’s more we could do. More ways you could make your boy feel good.”
He kind of frowned up at me, and I pulled my cock slowly out of his mouth, all slicked up and literally dripping, ropes of Dad’s spit hanging off it when it came free. He coughed, cleared his throat, and looked like he was about to say something, still frowning.
“Come on, Dad,” I said, before he could say anything. I reached down, tucked my hands into his armpits and pulled him up, like he was a kid. Then I walked naked, my big hard spit-slicked dick leading the way, into my bedroom.
I didn’t have to wait long. I was standing in front of the full-length mirror on the closet door, checking myself out, liking the progress on my body this last season. Knowing he liked what he saw too, which made it twice as good. Twice as hot. I felt studly as fuck, and when he appeared in my doorway, looking kind of sheepish but also a little hypnotized by the sight of his big young football player son, naked and bone-hard, waiting for him. He shuffled slowly, silently into my room, pushing the door closed behind him, and I knew he was mine.
*****
“Take your clothes off, Dad,” I said simply, because I wanted to see him naked. Wanted to see that big dick of his, all hard for me and what we did in secret. And yeah, the exploring I’d been doing the past few semesters with other dudes had me kind of into other dudes’ bods now. I knew Dad still had a good one. I’d gotten everything but my hair color from him, and he still had that powerful bigness he’d used as such a weapon in his own football years.
Dad had that deer-in-the-headlights look, but when I tugged on the bottom of his polo shirt, he got the message. Slowly slipped it up and off, baring his big, hairy chest, silver streaks mixed into the dark fur on his big, meaty pecs. He looked like Coach did, that kind of big chest, thick torso, a few extra pounds, but he was a big dude with a big frame, so it worked on him. Not fat - thick. Then his shorts came down his big thighs, and he was throwing a good-sized tent in his FTLs. He paused, blushing, with his thumbs in the waistband of them, and I just nodded and watched. And then, there it was - the cock he’d made me with. A big dick on a big guy - but I was bigger. I liked that. Maybe that’s why he loved to swallow mine as much as he did. Yeah. That had to be it. My Dad was a secret cockhound, and his son had the big cock he craved most of all.
He was eyeing me up pretty hard, that pretty big dick of his pointing up towards the ceiling as his eyes looked me over from head to toe. I laced my fingers behind my head, feeling real fuckin’ good about how I looked - I could see it in the mirror, especially in this pose, with my biceps popping, my pecs stetching out real big, my quads tensed, gold fur on my chest and my thighs and in my pits, a lazy smile on my face. Most of all, that big dick of mine, all glossy with Dad’s spit and standing damn near vertical. I could tell he liked what he saw. I liked that he liked it.
Dad started to go to his knees again, ready to go back to licking and slobbering up my hefty piece, ready to suck it hungrily back down his talented throat, but I put my hand on the underside of his chin to stop him. He gave me that hungry, confused look again, as I guided his face closer to my body. I used my other hand to push his head down, below my cock, down towards the floor, until he got the message and dropped to his hands and knees. It took him a minute. Guess he had some of that internal resistance going on. Fighting in his mind over what should be, and what was gonna be. But he dropped down anyway, and then I raised my leg a little, brushing the gold hair of my shin against his chin, his lips, pointing my toes to make the big muscles of my calves bulge.
“Start there, Dad,” I said. “Work your way up. C’mon - I put a lot of work into this big bod. Show me how much you like it. Show me how good I’ve done.”
Another pause from him, and then I felt his lips purse, and kiss the warm tanned skin of my shin. He took my lower leg in both hands, and started to kiss it, lick it, work his way up it. Even ducked his head around to run his tongue up those big rocks of my calves, and the way he did it made me shiver inside a little. That kicker back at school had worshiped the fuck out of my big linebacker ass, well most of it, but this was different. This was a first. I liked it.
I watched Dad with curiosity and more and more excitement, as he started to use his hands as well as his lips. He was a little tentative at first, like he was just learning how to do this, but this was the kind of thing that came natural to a certain kind of guy. And for all his big-chested, ex-ballplayer gruffness out there on the streets, in here, naked and cock-leaking on his knees as he worshiped his big young jock son, he was definitely that kind of guy.
Dad’s paws slid up either side of my thigh, squeezing in a way that both tickled a little and tingled a lot, as he licked up the long, thick bulge of my quads, grunting to himself when I flexed them up a little harder for him, showing him how I’d mastered the squat rack even better than I had back in high school. New goals, new routines, new heights - that was Coach Thornhill’s thing down at State. I was living it, and loving it, but not as much as Dad was right now. When he got to my hip, I kind of held my breath, waiting to see if he’d get all weak and just go back to sucking my cock, or if he’d really run with this.
He ran with it. Switched over to my left leg, went back down on hands and knees, and this time ran his tongue up from the top of my foot to my knee, and then up the side of my quads, in one slow, wet, unbroken line. Dropped back down to knee-level, and did the same up my inner thigh, and this time I couldn’t hide the twitch and shiver that ran through me, or stop the growl I let out at the sensation. He flicked his eyes up at me, and they crinkled around the edges in like a smile, almost, but he kept lapping up over my thigh, to my hip, through the edge of my thick, musky bush. And then he kept going up.
Dad’s hands slid up my lats real slow and appreciative, as he started to raise himself, licking his way over my abs, kissing them, burying his nose in my treasure trail and sniffing. When his bare shoulder brushed my cock, it bounced and blew bubbles of precum, left a big shiny streak of it on his shoulder, but he didn’t stop. His hands came up to knead my big pecs, encouraging me to flex them up for him, as he nuzzled up the deep valley between them, and I was starting to wonder who was leading who here. Was starting to lose my focus, to lose a little bit of my control, and this wasn’t about me giving up control. This was about me taking it, and keeping it, and showing Dad I knew what it was and how to use it.
When he sniffed and kissed and licked his way over my right pec, and then zeroed in on my big, stiff nip, I almost stopped him. But then he took it in his mouth with a husky grunt, wrapping his lips around it and sending an electric surge down my core to my cock. My nips are real sensitive, real nice to play with when I’m having some good naked fun, and it’s like he just knew that instinctively. Maybe his were wired that way too. Maybe I could…
No, fuck that. No. Uh-uh. This was my show, and as awesome as it felt having him suck on my big tit, even graze it with his teeth like some kind of fuckin’ sex pro, I wasn’t done with him yet. So I took hold of the back of his head, firm but gentle, and pulled him off it. He looked like he was gonna say something again, so I brought my right arm up, hand behind my head, pit exposed, and just pushed his face into it.
“Taste me, Dad,” I said. “Get in there and taste your boy.”
He hesitated a minute. Then, with another, deeper grunt, almost a growl, he attacked. This time I let out a little grunt of my own, letting him know he was doing a good job. I was fresh-showered, but no deodorant, so all he could taste was me. Just my natural man scent, and he loved it. So much, when he’d lapped my pit clean, the hair in it pasted to my skin, he didn’t even wait for me to lift my left arm - he pushed it up himself, and dove on in.
“Fuck yeah, big guy, that’s it,” I growled, stroking the back of his head, feeling his big, hard dick pressing into my thigh as he went deep. Big and hard like mine. Leaking almost as much as mine was, now.
When he came up, his eyes were all big and shiny, excited. His chin and lips were wet with spit. His breath was hot and a little musky, huffing on my face all excited. We locked eyes, and for a minute there, I nearly leaned in and just kissed him. Would’ve really laid one on him. He was just so keyed-up, all in heat and hot, and handsome, and right then I fuckin’ loved the guy. I’d never felt like kissing him before. Sure, I’d played some tonsil hockey with my little kicker fuckbud. Kind of a lot of it, lately. Kid could kiss like a motherfucker. But right now, with Dad, shit…
“Son,” Dad said, all husky. “I wanna… can I…”
He’d never been at a loss for words before. Always such a take-charge, confident, go-on-and-get-it dude.
“Turn around, kid,” he finally said, and slowly I did, presenting my big, muscled ass to him, and then he dropped to his knees, clapped his hands on either side of it, and moaned as I flexed my glutes up. Joey the kicker had done the same thing. I never figured Dad for that kind of guy, but I guess he was, because he squeezed my cheeks, rubbed ‘em up real good and slow, and then leaned in and licked his way up my crack.
“Awww shit,” I growled. How’d he know that was one of my new favorite things? Didn’t matter, ‘cos he did, and he was doing it, and in under a minute, I was bending forward, grabbing the end of my bed, and pushing my big ass up and back into Dad’s handsome, stubbly face, and he was really fuckin’ going for it.
My cock was dripping onto the covers underneath me, the head of it stretched up and rubbing against my stomach as I bent deeper, let him go deeper, and when his tongue zeroed in on my ring and licked it right the fuck open, I growled deep and low, reached round behind me to grab the back of his head, and pushed his hard-working face in even deeper.
“Yeah Dad,” I grunted. “Lick your boy’s fuckin’ ass, man,” and he did. Fuck yeah he did.
My toes were curling into the rug. My hands were clutching at the sheets. There was a big wet patch of my precum soaking into the comforter under my cock. And Dad just growled and grunted, snuffling and munching on my ass like a hungry animal. My buddy Joey had an eager tongue, but my Dad could fucking eat ass. I dunno if you can make a man cum doing that, but sure felt like Dad was trying. And the deeper and longer he went, the more he licked, the more I thought about ass, all pink and shiny and wet with spit, about Joey’s tight little knot of a hole and how good it felt sinking my thick, veiny shaft up into it as his eyes rolled back in his head, and I knew what had to be done. This road went one way, to one big final destination.
Dad grunted with frustration when I stood up, flexing my big glutes either side of his face, pushing him back out of my ass as I turned, bent down, put my hands in his pits and hauled his big ass up. His face was even shinier, his lips and chin wetter and muskier, and when I leaned in, clamped one hand on the back of his head in his short, sweaty hair and planted my lips on his, he made a deep, surprised noise, before letting my thick tongue push past his lips and into his musky, me-tasting mouth. Let me ream it out real good with my tongue, before I felt his start to react, slipping along mine and sliding around and over it. I grunted approvingly, pressed my body into his as I wrapped my arms around him, and together we went deep with it. Deep, hungry, grunting, growling, wet man kissing. Dad and son. Making out hard, like men do.
I knew he could do this all night, and I kind of wanted to as well, but we didn’t really have all night, and I still wanted to go further. Deeper. To keep this game going. To keep Dad right where I, and he, wanted him to be. At my feet, hungry and ready to show me how much he wanted my big son body. My big son cock. How far he’d go to have it. At my feet maybe not, like, literally anymore - but like mentally. Emotionally. In his mind. Where him and me both knew he belonged, where he really wanted to be.
So I turned us around, still kissing, his back to the bed, and then I pushed him away from me - solidly, but not roughly. He landed on his ass on the bed with a surprised grunt, staring at me as I strode over to my bedside table, reached into the drawer, and pulled out my trusty lube. Watched me slick up my cock real slow, showing him what I was doing, making it gleam in the light for him, making the thickness shine, the veins pop, the head almost glowing with precum and lube. Then I tossed him the bottle.
“Show me how much you want this son cock, Dad,” I said, using my deep voice. “Show me how bad you want your son.”
He kind of whimpered, then took the lube, and like I expected him to, like I knew he’d always wanted, since that first time he blew me in the front seat of his Silverado in the parking lot after two-a-days the summer I turned 16, he started to grease himself up. Something so damn lewd in the way he did it, without meaning to be - that deep, furry trench of his all sweaty, puckered at the center, getting all shined up for me. For my thickness. For my bigness. For my son cock. I slow-fisted myself as I watched him, eyes on my prize. Maybe he’d done this before. Maybe he was a horny, cock-hungry down-low jock stud back in college. Maybe even still was now. I didn’t know. I didn’t care. He was mine now, tonight and from now on, and I didn’t care about anything else in his past - but I was very ready to give a fuck.
His hole resisted me at first, and I expected that, and maybe I could’ve done him the courtesy of eating him out the way he’d done me, the way I’d been learning to do to Joey, the way I was starting to really fuckin’ like - but the ship had sailed and this shit was full steam ahead now. I didn’t force it into him, I was never that kind of guy, but I had a lot of experience stuffing this great big piece of mine up inside tight little holes. I worked at him, pressed and probed and pushed a little more, looking deep in his big, almost scared eyes, and then it was like we finally connected, like he finally understood that this was happening, and he opened up to me, and I pushed my way inside him.
“Fuck, you’re tight, Dad,” I grunted, and that made him moan and clutch at the big bulging knots of my bis and tris, as I pushed inch after inch into him. No stopping now, no going back. I owned his mouth, and now I owned Dad’s ass too, and I was loving it.
“Get ready, Dad,” I grunted when I had my almost-nine full inches inside of him, thick and throbbing, stretching him to his limits… for now. “I’m going to fuck you. You want your boy to fuck you, Dad?”
He nodded, eyes watering a little with the strain.
“No, Dad,” I murmured, leaning in to just brush my lips over his, eyes locked deep with his. “Tell me. Say it, Dad.”
“Fuck me, son,” he moaned. “Jesus christ, I want you to fuck me, son…”
“Fuck you with what, Dad?” I said.
“Ah Jesus…” he almost whimpered. “Fuck me with your big dick, son. Fuck me with that big… fucking… cock…”
Man, those words, that voice, that look deep in his eyes, it sent a charge all through me. I got that godly feeling all over again, like I was the biggest, manliest, hardest man in the world. Fucking awesome. And so I gave Dad what he wanted. What I wanted too, yeah, I can admit it. I wanted to fuck my big, good-looking, cock-sucking Dad. Wanted him to feel me buried inside of him, as much as I wanted to feel him wrapped round my big young jock dick. Everything else him and me had ever done, every fuckbud session I’d had on my own since then, had been building up to this. Me and Dad. Me fucking Dad. Fuck yeah.
I wanted to make it last, to pound Dad’s tight hole all night, dump multiple loads of my thick cum deep inside of him, but we’d been at it too long already, and the rest of the family would be home soon. So I planted my hands above his shoulders, locked eyes with him, and set to work, building up my pace, really starting to fuck him, as he wrapped his big legs tighter round my trunk and held on for the ride. We didn’t need to say much. It was all there in the air between us. In the sweat dripping off me, onto him. In the slow, steady leak of his cock. In the deep, growling moans I was drilling out of him, that he was pulling out of me. In the slap of my hips against his meaty, muscular ass. Steadily picking up the pace, as that hot glowing ball of electricity grew inside my gut, spread through my groin, down my inner thighs, filled my balls, flowed up the length of my shaft, and before I knew it, I was coming. Hard. Harder than I ever did before.
“Fucking coming in you, Dad!“ I yelled, and then he started to moan too, and I felt him clenching even tighter all round me as his cum started to spurt, splatting all over his sweaty belly, up deep into his chest fur, almost all the way to his chin, as his paws clutched even tighter onto my big, bulging upper arms.
Took a little time to get our breath back, and then he smiled at me, and I found myself smiling back - not the casual, chill smile I’d given him when he first started giving me the eye tonight, but a real genuine grin. And then fuck it, I was kissing him again, and he was moaning into my mouth, and just as I was really reaming his mouth out again with my tongue, I heard the sound of Mom’s Grand Cherokee, big V8 rumbling into the driveway, headlights glowing through my window.
“Aw shit!” Dad yelled, pushing me up off him and running for the bedroom door. It was kinda funny, to be honest. Kinda exciting, too, nearly getting busted like that. I heard his heavy footsteps pounding down the hall to his bathroom, then doubling back into the living room. Then my shorts and my wife-beater that I’d left in there before came flying through my bedroom door at me.
“Too close, bud!” he yelled over his shoulder as he disappeared down the hall. I heard his shower kick on just as the front door opened, and I smoothly slipped the bedsheet over my lower body and pretended like I was reading Road & Track when Mom’s head popped around the door.
“Where’s your father, honey?” she said.
“In the shower,” I said, smiling innocently at her. “Think he just got done with a workout.”
“Oh, you boys and your workouts,” she said, smiling and rolling her eyes.
She headed off to the kitchen, leaving my little brother Jason standing there. He kind of sniffed the air a little, and I knew there was probably a definite whiff of something in the air. Jeez, I hope Mom didn’t notice. But my kid bro sure did, and now he was giving me that look. The same kind of look Dad did, when he thought I wasn’t looking. Almost like… a hungry kind of look.
Shit. Looked like this was going to be one busy summer. But a fun one, for sure. Fuck yeah.
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