Dad was leaning against his truck, staring off at the setting sun as he waited for my shift at the grocery store to end. He looked hot as fuck, wearing his reliable work boots and his favorite ball cap, the golden light kissing his full beard and muscular body. I knew it was totally wrong to lust after my own father, but I couldn’t resist my desire for him.
“You didn’t have to come get me,” I called out as I walked my bicycle towards his truck. “I’m eighteen years old, Dad. I’m perfectly capable of riding my bike home alone.”
“I know, Avery,” Dad smiled, picking up my bicycle with his strong arms and tossing it into the back of his truck. “I was just worried those guys might come back and give you some more trouble.”
Dad was referring to an incident that had happened a few weeks earlier as I was riding my bike home on Route 16. Two guys in a red truck pulled up next to me, yelling faggot repeatedly before running me off the road and into a ditch. I got a bit scraped up, but it was my ego that hurt the most.
“It was an isolated incident, Dad,” I tried to assure him as I hopped into the passenger seat of his truck. “I can’t live the rest of my life in fear of homophobic assholes like that.”
“You’re right, Avery,” Dad patted my leg paternally after turning over the ignition, the engine rumbling to a start. “But as your father, it’s my job to take care of you.”
My heart swelled as Dad made the turn onto Route 16, gunning the engine. Despite being a faggot, as all the guys back in school had called me, I always felt protected by my hunky father. I was safe in his presence, sheltered from the evils of the world. I wanted to show Dad my appreciation and gratitude for him—in my own, special way.
“Thank you for always taking care of me, Dad,” I began, my hand reaching for his leg, landing precariously close to his bulge. “Maybe I can take care of you, too.”
“The fuck?” Dad spat, one hand swatting my arm away as the other steered the truck off the road, gravel crunching under the tires as we came to an abrupt stop. “Avery, what the fuck is wrong with you? Did you just offer to get me off?” he demanded.
“I—I just wanted to show you how much I love you,” I stammered, suddenly realizing my stupidity in thinking my straight father would give up his cock to his gay son. “I just wanted to suck you off.”
“Suck me off?” Dad gasped. “That’s not something that a normal son would do for his father.”
“Yeah, I know,” I began to cry, trying to exit the truck, intending to walk home in shame. “Because if there’s one thing I’m not—it’s normal.”
“Jesus, Avery,” Dad leaned over to stop me from leaving. “I didn’t mean it like that. You know that I love and support you for being gay. But that doesn’t mean I’m gonna let you suck my dick.”
“Why not?” I persisted. “I know Mom doesn’t suck your dick. She told me she thinks oral sex is sinful. And I’ve overheard you two arguing about sex, how she’s never in the mood and—”
“What your mother and me do in our marriage is none of your concern,” Dad cut me off.
“When was the last time?” I asked.
“What?”
“When was the last time you got your dick sucked?” I clarified.
“Shit,” Dad exhaled, adjusting his ball cap. “It was about ten years ago. I paid a nasty whore twenty bucks to suck my cock in a gas station parking lot down in Tuscaloosa when I was picking up fertilizer.”
“Does Mom know?” I asked, eyes wide.
“Of course she don’t know,” Dad spat. “I felt so guilty for cheating on her like that, I vowed that I’d never do it again.”
“But did you like it—the blow job?” I wanted to know. “Did it feel good?”
“Well, duh—of course it felt good,” Dad eased up and laughed. “It was a fuckin’ blow job. It’s supposed to feel good.”
“Then why don’t you let me—?”
“Now that’s enough,” Dad interrupted, holding up the palm of his hand to silence me. “We’re done discussing this. I’m not gonna let you suck me off. You understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I nodded sullenly as Dad shifted the truck back into drive, continuing us towards home.
“What happened between you two?” Mom asked over meatloaf and mashed potatoes that evening. Dad and I were eating in awkward silence, avoiding each other’s glances.
“Nothing happened, Martha,” Dad asserted feebly.
“Well, considering that you’re already on your second whiskey,” Mom gestured to the tumbler in Dad’s hand, “I’d say you’re lying.”
“I got mad at Dad for picking me up from work,” I fibbed. “I told him that it’s perfectly safe for me to ride my bike home—that I’m not a little kid anymore.”
Mom dropped the interrogation after that, but the chill in the air between Dad and me continued all evening. After dinner, he retired to the den with a bottle of Jack. I wanted to apologize, to set things right between us. But knowing my father, I knew it would all be forgotten by morning, and that Dad would be his usual jovial self.
It was after midnight when the door to my room creaked open, waking me up, a beam of light from the hallway illuminating my face. Dad stood for a moment in the doorway before stumbling into my room, closing the door behind him.
“Dad—I’m—I’m sorry about earlier,” I whispered as Dad ambled towards me. “I should never have—”
“Shhh,” he silenced me, his thick index finger at my lips. “We don’t wanna wake your mother.”
And then Dad undid his belt, unzipping himself, releasing his cock as he pushed his pants down to his knees. He was rock hard, his eight-incher begging for attention.
“You gonna suck this big dick for me or not?” his whiskey-soaked breath was hot at my ear. “Come on, son. I know you want my load.”
Wordlessly, I threw off the bedcover as I stumbled out of bed and dropped to my knees. Like a supplicant, I knelt before Dad and took his big cock down my warm throat.
“Fuuuuuck,” Dad exhaled, his head tipping back in ecstasy as I took him all the way, his hairy balls mashed against my chin. “Damn, I needed this.”
I went to town on Dad’s big dick, employing all the skills I had picked up sucking cock in gas station men’s rooms and the city park after dark. But at the end of the day, my skills weren’t all that important. Dad just wanted to face fuck me.
“Yeah, that’s it,” he growled, grabbing the back of my head as he abused my throat, pounding my tonsils. “Open that throat for me.”
Straining to breathe through my nose, I stretched my jaw, allowing Dad to breach the upper limits of my esophagus. I was gagging on his big dick, tears streaming down my face, drool dripping down my chin, soaking my t-shirt. I was loving it.
I reached around and gripped his meaty ass with my hands, trying to hold on for dear life as Dad unleashed years of pent-up sexual frustration down my throat. If his frigid wife wasn’t going to suck his cock, his slutty gay son might as well be a worthy substitute.
“Fuck, you know how to throat a cock,” Dad praised, his big dick a piston in my throat, his balls smacking my chin with each thrust. “I ain’t gonna last much longer in this throat pussy.”
Eager to taste Dad’s cum, to feel his load spewing down my throat, I cupped his balls in one hand. They had pulled up tight, hugging his body, preparing to expel his seed. Dad’s cock had begun to swell in my throat. His orgasm was imminent. But then he pulled out of my throat abruptly.
“Why—why did you stop?” I croaked, gasping for air. I was worried he had suddenly sobered up, seeing the error of his ways, the incestuous sin of giving his cock to his son. My fears were unfounded.
“Bend over, Avery,” Dad ordered. His meaty hands were suddenly yanking me off the floor and shoving me against the edge of the bed, pulling down my briefs. “Hurry the fuck up. I wanna finish up your ass.”
“FUCK,” I screamed, gripping the bedsheet as Dad shoved his big dick in my tight, knotted hole with one, violent thrust. The pain was unreal. But in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to feel my father cumming up my ass. I wouldn’t have to wait long.
“SHIT—I’m gonna cum,” Dad barked, his swollen cock working inside me, his eager balls no match for my tight hole. “Here it comes—OH FUCK—SHIT.”
Dad’s body convulsed, jolting me and the bed as his big dick erupted in my depths. “FUCK—FUCK,” he grunted repeatedly as his massive load spewed within me, coating the walls of my fuck canal.
“Fuck, you’ve got a sweet cunt on you, son,” Dad praised as he extracted his cock from my bowels, his balls emptied. His spent dick dripped cum onto my bedroom rug as he stood back and observed his handiwork—my wrecked hole.
I quickly climbed onto my bed, hoping that Dad would join me. After taking his seed, our shared DNA swimming in my guts, I longed to fall asleep in his strong arms. Alas, not all dreams come true.
I watched as Dad opened my bedroom door, ambling down the hall to the bed he shared with my mom. I soon fell asleep, blissfully content as Dad’s load slowly leaked from my used cunt.
Mom was drinking coffee at the kitchen table when I came down for breakfast the next morning. “Where’s Dad?” I asked.
“Your father went into town early this morning,” Mom began. “He wanted to surprise you, but you know I’m no good at keeping secrets. He’s going to that used car lot, the one next to the Walmart, to buy you a car. He doesn’t want you biking to work anymore.”
“But, I never asked Dad to—”
“Come now, Avery,” Mom laughed. “You must have done something to butter up your dad, convincing him to buy you a car. He never does anything like that for me.”
Stories are fiction and intended for readers 18 and up. All characters are assumed to be legal, consenting adults.
