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breeedmedeeep · 2 years ago

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FATHER & SON

Knowledge

I knew what I was doing. Yeah. I knew. I didn’t give a fuck though. The kid was in college now. He was an adult. He could make up his own mind. He could be his own man. My question was this: Would he be man enough to be his own man?

I’d known for years. At first I thought it was just curiosity. You know - natural. I remember when I first got my juice - my brain and body went crazy. I wanted to learn all about girls and guys and pussies and cocks. But, once I had 'the talk’ with him, I figured he’d be more focused on chicks than dicks.

But, he wasn’t. He still lurked around my bathroom. Still gave me the side-eye down at the Y, after our pick-up games.

Even his coaches made comments, without coming right out and fronting it.

“Oh - he’s a good kid. A great kid. Super obedient - you know . . . almost like he likes being told what to do.” I would just look at them, nodding, waiting to see if they had the balls to say what I’d known for years.

But, they never did.

The wrestling coach came the closest to telling me the truth about my son. He said, “Ya know - once he gets some pussy, he’ll probably be fine. He’ll snap right out of it. That��s what happens to most guys, anyway.”

I just smiled, giving him a knowing nod. “Yeah - we’ll see.”

But, he didn’t get any pussy in high school - and he didn’t try - as far as I could tell. Oh, he went to prom with his ‘girlfriend’ but they’d been best-bitches for years - and, I mean that in a nice way. They were friends, nothing more - giggle partners, who liked to shop and share secrets. She was homely and he was the shy, wanna-be jock that spent a little too much time in art class, painting the sets for the annual musicals.

And, all along, he would horn-dog on me. It got a little bold in his senior year, what with the free-balling down at the Y, and his own attempts at strutting-nudity in the hallway, on his side of the house. But, I didn’t take the bait. Wouldn’t. Not with the wife hitting her prime and our marriage going just fine. Not with my daughters coming up next - naw, way too fucking much to lose. I was getting lots of pussy from the old lady, and even though I’d done some dudes back in the day, it wasn’t my primary perv.

But he was in college now. It was parent’s weekend. My wife stayed with the girls, because they had a dance on Saturday and soccer on Sunday - so I was on my own . . . and I had a plan.

I’d held off in his Freshman year, just to make sure he got his feet on the ground and, hopefully, got his lips around some cock. Got his cherry popped, Got some certainty about who he was and what he wanted, without any interference from me. Although I couldn’t be sure he’d lost his virginity, I was pretty certain that was the case. When he came home for the summer he was more sure of himself - more comfortable in his own skin. He didn’t lie to us about girlfriends or pretend to be straight. When his mom asked about dating he was evasive, but he didn’t bullshit us, either.

“I’m seeing some people,” he said, explicitly avoiding gender. I just flashed a huge grin at him. His mom went farther.

“Well you know, honey - we just want you to be happy. That’s all your dad and I have ever wanted - we’d love to meet whoever you are dating.”

I threw my arm around her, pulling her close to my tight body. It was an overtly loving and mildly sexual gesture.

“Yeah, kid - we know how it is. Hell, your mom and I met in college. We got pregnant with you our sophomore year. That may not be a problem for you, of course -”

“Jay!” she exclaimed, prodding me.

“We just want you to have fun, son, and be careful,” I said squeezing his mom’s ass, and showing a little hard, thinking of our uninhibited college sexual adventures.

“Honey!”

But, it was on. I was gonna get back up in there. She’d been on fire lately. It turns out that what they say about women in their sexual prime is correct - and I’d been having the time of my life. I wasn’t gonna let this opportunity pass - or any opportunity, given how horny she’d become over the last few years.

She escaped my grip, heading out of the kitchen and up to our bedroom, but casting a glance back that even the kid caught. I groped myself, whispering to him, ”Looks like your old man is gonna get lucky.”

His eyes were wide as saucers, focused on my now prominent bulge. There was no pretending in him now - he was all eyes on my crotch. I paused to see if he would look away, but he didn’t - wouldn’t. I gave my meat one last squeeze, accentuating the package, then winked at him as his eyes flashed up, looking into mine.

That afternoon, while I laid it to his mom, I decided it was time to give the kid his dream.

After Freshman year we allowed him to move off campus with a roommate, who, in my mind, was obviously gay. I mean - they weren’t lovers. I figured that out when we helped move them out of the dorm. He was just another ‘good girlfriend’ but this one, finally, was an actual peer . . . by which I mean he was an actual queer. His name was Jason or Raven or Melvin or something - I couldn’t remember. All I knew is that he was away on some kind of obligation, which I don’t think was a coincidence, since I’d arranged my visit over a month in advance. It meant that I could stay in the apartment with my son - which I think my son wanted just as much as I did.

We’d had a good afternoon down at the new campus gym - a really incredible facility, but the locker rooms were still under construction, so we headed back to his place for our shower. The boys had done well with the pad on a budget. It wasn’t outrageously queer, but it was obviously gay - in that, ‘oh yeah, these guys are definitely gay’ kind of aesthetic.

I showered first, intentionally not getting dressed. There were some events scheduled for the evening, but I had other plans - I’d even spent most of the prior week just eating pussy, so I could build a nice load. I figured it was the least I could do, given how much he wanted what I had to give, and how long he had wanted it.

(And, it worked wonders with the wife. “Oh honey . . . you’re such a generous lover. Are you sure you don’t need to . . . you know . . . ” “Naw, I’m fine hon - I get off on getting you off. Let’s cuddle.” That shit works like a charm - it's like banking pussy-points, and I was absolutely gonna cash in for future rewards.)

He stumbled out of the shower, not expecting to see me sitting there. He immediately covered his slim hips with the towel, surprised by my presence.

“Oh, hey dad,” he choked out, stopping in his tracks.

“Ryan,” I said, nodding, but using my Dad Voice.

“What’s up?” he asked, worried now.

“We need to talk,” I said.

He was uncomfortable.

“Um - let me get dressed -”

“Naw - not necessary. We need to talk now.”

That absolutely stopped him. I could see panic in his eyes. And, I knew what it was about. It was about popping wood - about being laid bare in front of me.

“Son,” I said, standing, flipping the damp towel over my shoulder, revealing myself completely. “Why haven’t you come out of the closet to me and your mom? We know, Ry. Why won’t you tell us?”

He just stood there, turning red.

The answer was plain to me - I wanted to help him, but more than that, I wanted him to admit what he wanted. It was his eyes that told his truth - his eyes that raked my tight, hairy frame, my slowly thickening cock, my meaty, heavy balls.

“Um - I . . . “ he said, barely a whisper.

I stepped closer, blocking any exit, letting the edge of my heat invade his space. He was tenting under the towel now - beginning to - and losing his chance to impress his father with his brave truth.

“It’s okay, Ry,” I said. “Just talk to me. I’m your dad. I love you.”

“You,” he said, more quickly than even I expected. But, I guess he was ready in his own way, too - waiting for his own moment, a moment with an open door - which I had just provided.

“It’s you, dad,” he said, honestly, looking up for the first time, straight into my eyes. “It’s because of you.”

He pulled away his towel then, unashamed, and his younger cock sprang up and bounced off his tight abs - perfectly formed, nicely trimmed, tight balls clutching above his cleft for dear life, full of vitality, ready to show his daddy what they could do.

He was rigid and flexing, standing proud - no longer sheepish in his desires. My cock followed suit, just a little slower. I had him in size and girth, but he was nothing to sneeze at. I also had that extra heft - that fleshy heavy quality you get when you work your muscle for years and years, drilling ass and pussy, making babies, giving life. It was Dad Cock vs. son cock - and it was very, very hot.

“I’m so into you, dad,” he said, openly, almost wantonly. “It’s like - if I ever told the truth, I would have to tell the whole truth - so I thought I better just keep quiet.”

I put my hand on his shoulder, smiling at him, loving him so much in that moment.

“Well, the truth is out now, isn’t it?” I asked.

“How long have you known?” he asked.

“A long time.”

“But - why . . . I mean . . . “

“I wouldn’t have - ever. Not while you were younger. I needed you to grow up, kid. Come on - that shit that you’ve been running in your head - that shit only happens in porn stories.”

“But -”

“And, I’m your dad, Ryan. It’s my call, son. It’s not your call. And that really is all there is to say about it, okay?”

He wanted to be angry - wanted to be hurt or frustrated - but I still had authority and carried it well. He’d always responded to it - had always been such a perfect kid - had always done what he was told and what I was telling him now is that I waited for the right moment, because it was the right thing to do. Eventually, his body relaxed. This wasn’t about challenging me. This was about acceptance.

“Okay,” he said, quietly, eventually smiling his still outrageously cute smile.

“Besides, we’re here now,” I said, looking down, and he followed my gaze. I was fully erect and dripping - ready for the moment I’d been thinking about for years - since he was a very young boy, looking at me with very young eyes, nurturing his very young obsession. He gasped audibly, and his own cock flexed.

I slowly applied pressure to his shoulder and surprisingly he resisted, being more of a man than I expected in this moment, given how obviously excited he was to finally get what he had wanted his entire life.

“Dad - “ he started - “shouldn’t we -”

I was way ahead of him.

“We’ll talk later. Now’s not the time to talk, son,” I said, pushing him down harder, knowing I would overcome his resistance, and proving myself right as he lowered gracefully to his knees. He reached up and grabbed my father-cock, the cock that had made him.

“Yeah, Ryan - just like that,” I whispered, as he lowered his mouth onto my glans.

The other benefit of waiting, I had calculated, is that it would give him time to build his skills. This assumption proved remarkably accurate. After wetting me nicely, he slowly descended to the base, with virtually no effort.

“Fuck, son,” I groaned, grabbing his head, firmly.

It was obvious he was as prepared for this as I was - he sucked my cock with an intensity that I had never experienced - neither out of control nor tentative. It was a focused, relentless, unforgiving dick-attack, intent on proving his worth to my shaft, signaling his willingness to take my seed.

His mother was a great lay - enthusiastic and freaky - but she didn’t suck cock like this. And anyway, with two additional and eager holes, she didn’t need to suck cock like this. For a brief instant I wondered if I had wasted time, given up too many years of this incredible sensation by waiting as long as I did.

My son’s groaning moan seemed to prove that point, but I gotta say - despite the immediate incredible sensation, most of the pleasure I experienced was about the culmination of our coupling . . . not the coupling itself. Isn’t there a line from some play about that? Maybe I heard it during one of those incredibly boring high school productions. “We’ve had this date from the beginning . . . “ or something . I remember because it hit me then and it flashed through my mind now, as my cock drove deeper in my son’s throat than I thought was biologically possible.

The kid - by now - was nearly going wild, even as he retained his astonishing focus. It was (and probably will be) the best blow job I ever got. He clutched my heavy balls just right, willingly played my cleft with his wet fingers, slobbered on my rod, covering it with gleaming slick mucous and my own spew. He deep-throated me with ease, breathing in perfect precision, begging for my cum with his every action. Looking down at him - at his focus, at his lust, at his love - I was overwhelmed with erotic passion. I began to drive into him, and he welcomed it, arching his back in deference to my strength, pushing his ass up in the air, grabbing my thighs with this worked-out, muscled arms.

“Awww Ry,” I groaned, feeling the build. “Fuck this is good, son,” I said, and he just nodded, unable to voice his matching pleasure, but showing me his ecstasy with every fiber of his being.

“Gonna cum, Ryan,” I growled, warning him, but not needing to - learning in that moment that I would never need to - ever. He just nodded urgently, clearly welcoming this moment we had both imagined.

“Then I’m gonna fuck you, baby - like you been dreaming of all these years. Gonna get this load out of the way,” I said, now sawing into this throat with abandon. “And then I’m gonna make love to your ass all night long, son.”

His moan was a sound that I’d never heard - it had a depth that vibrated the floor, but was mixed with a high-pitched whine that seemed to threaten the windows - they actually rattled. The kid was so eager and so ready - no matter my earlier trepidation, I understood in that instant that I had waited for precisely the right time. He was a man now - he knew what he wanted - and he was giving it to me, with depth and adulthood and abandon, and just a hint of the depravity that ran through me and his mom.

I erupted in his throat, lunging into him in a way I had never been able to do during a blow job, loving very single moment of the sensation, but loving mostly his pure joy at being able to provide me this astonishing release. The kid was either a whore or a pro - or perhaps his desire for me triggered a wanton ability that I’d never encountered in my life.

I pumped his guts full of my boys and he took them all, swallowing and wallowing in his lust. His frame had popped with a sheen of sweat, and as I looked down at him, taking what I had to give and willing me to give more, I realized I could have my way with him in a way I couldn’t with his mother. He was tough kid. He was a stud. And every signal he was giving me - his still youthful, still horny, still vital father - screamed fuck me, breed me, use me.

Enjoy me

It wasn’t disgusting or needy, like some of the dudes I did in college - dudes that would degrade themselves for a snort of your sweaty crotch, which, admittedly, had it’s own attraction. It was all man, all need, all lust - and it was driving me wild, both with paternal pride and paternal passion. It was indescribable to watch my own progeny express himself in this blatant, unforgiving and overwhelming way.

My cock stayed rigid after it had released its first messengers, and while Ryan slowed, he didn’t retreat from his goal of providing maximal pleasure. I was so proud of him - so full of love. I had expected tears from him in this moment, or sometime during the night - but I didn’t anticipate my own.

I reached down, grabbing his sinewy, muscled arms, and dragged him up, looking at his red, wet, face - lips puffed, eyes glazed, mind clear. He flicked his tongue at my tears, intaking vital breath, and I kissed him, passionately, with the full force of my fatherhood. He crawled up my slightly larger body, wrapping his firm legs around my hips, allowing my wet sluicing cock to ride his dark valley, and I carried him to his bed, kissing him like I suppose I had always wanted to - from the moment I realized his pure passion for me, his dad.

No words were spoken as I entered him deliberately, but with careful, forceful intention. He clawed at my back, kissed my wet checks with his exploring lips, pushed into my hips with eager intensity. I found my stride immediately, as if we had been doing this for years - knowing that we would be doing this for years to come.

“I love you, Ryan,” I moaned, releasing my second load into him seamlessly, pouring him full of my ardor and my DNA. “I love you so much, son,” I repeated, opening him up, maintaining my pace, signaling to him that our love-making was just getting started. The wetness that I’d released eased my entry, and his pouting opening blossomed with his exertions. He pushed out, giving me full and complete access to his center. It was tight - so incredibly tight - but available, too, like his mother.

“I love you too, Daddy,” he whispered, using the honorific that had slipped away when his attraction to me had become overwhelming. “I love you so much.”

((()))

We’ve never stopped making love, even if our coupling is made difficult with distance and family. He has a husband now, but his husband knows and joins me when I visit, exploring my open son with our eager, older cocks. They have hired a surrogate, and that youth will carry our family name. They even asked for my sperm to seed the young college girl and I happily donated.

You’re not supposed to mix sperm when you do that, but we all agreed to break the rules. Each of us has donated a full supply. We figure - let the best man win, right?

I think my wife knows about me and Ryan. We’ve skirted around the issue - discussed Ryan’s obvious attraction to older men - the striking resemblance between his husband and me - his inadvertent slips, during the holidays, when he calls one, or both of us, ‘daddy’. But, if she’s bothered, she doesn’t let on. She’s even spoken lewdly of our son’s fetish for older men during our love-making, implying a knowledge of our coupling that I find overwhelmingly erotic.

This morning, after our lovemaking, as she pushed her ass back onto my semi-hard, cock, she said, “Honey - have you noticed how Sarah looks at you these days?”

Sarah is our youngest daughter.

“It reminds me of Ryan, they way he used to look at you.”

My cock immediately hardened.

“Have you,” she groaned, responding to my response. “Have you noticed?”

“Yes,” I said simply, hardening completely - letting her know that my hardening was connected to the question.

“Do you think that’s okay?” she asked, pushing back.

“I do - I think it’s natural,” I said, entering her ass, pushing deep.

“Ohhhhhh,” my wife sighed, letting her passion mix with unmistakable anguish. “Ohhhhhhh.”

As I pumped my now vital staff into her, preparing to release a second load, I crossed the line.

“Maybe we should talk to her about it,” I whispered to my wife.

“Ohhhhh,” she moaned. “Maybe . . . . , maybeeee we should . . . “

END

Author's Note: This popped up in my feed - had forgotten it. But is one of my favorites. I love the picture, too. Cocky fucker ... the story wrote itself when I saw that dad sitting there, waiting for his son to come out of the shower and into his own....

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