Like Father, Like Son

At twenty-five, Michael O’Casey was the president of his own very successful financial advisory company in New York City. His parents were only 17 when he was born, and his mother disappeared shortly thereafter, leaving his father to raise the baby boy as best he could on a policeman’s salary.

Patrick O’Casey did well for his son, even working a second job as a security guard so that he could afford to send Michael to a good school and make sure that he had nice clothes and did not go hungry. The hours were long, and the work was sometimes grueling, but for Patrick, it was worth it. He never took vacations, preferring to use his accumulated time to attend the many sporting events in which his son participated at school.

Growing up, Michael was an excellent student, thanks to the work ethic that his father instilled in him, and also was adept at football and heavyweight wrestling, having inherited Patrick’s strong, stocky build and quick reflexes. He adored his father and appreciated the emotional support he provided throughout Michael’s youth. As a child, it was a simple case of hero-worship, but as he entered his teens, he began looking at Patrick as a sexually desirable man, wishing he had the nerve to tell his father his true feelings but afraid that doing so might drive a wedge between them. He had never told his father about his sexual attraction to men.

Finally, on his twenty-fifth birthday, he decided the time had come to “come out” to his father. He had moved out of his childhood home when he graduated from college at age 21 and lived in a studio apartment not far from Patrick. He was independent and successful, definitely his own man.

To celebrate Michael’s quarter-century milestone birthday, Patrick invited him to come over for dinner, and he eagerly accepted. As it was just him and his father, Michael dressed casually in a polo-style shirt under a light jacket, dark slacks, and comfortable shoes. He walked over to his father’s home and rang the doorbell.

Patrick answered the door wearing a similar outfit minus the light jacket. They hugged and kissed lightly as the front door closed behind them.

After a delicious dinner (as Michael knew it would be), the men adjourned to the living room, each savoring a glass of fine Irish whiskey that Patrick had bought for this special occasion. After some idle chitchat, Michael leaned forward in his chair and gazed at his father seriously.

“Dad,” he began, “we need to talk.”

“Okay, son,” Patrick responded. “I could tell that something was bothering you all through dinner. What’s on your mind?” He set down his glass and locked eyes with his son.

“I’m in love …” Michael began.

“Congratulations!” his father interrupted, beaming. “Do I know the young lady?”

Michael took a deep breath and started again. “Please, let me finish, dad. I’m in love … with another man.”

Silence.

Michael observed his father intently, to gauge how he would take the news. Patrick’s face was set in a stony expression, behind which he was processing what his son had told him. After what seemed hours, but was really under a minute, he exhaled slowly and audibly, and his body relaxed.

“Well,” he responded, “that knocked me for a bit of a loop, my boy. But if you love him, and he makes you happy, then he must be a good man. Do I know him?”

“Yes, dad, you do. In fact, you know him very well.” Michael felt the tension drain out of him now that he had passed the first hurdle.

“Mind you,” Patrick added, “I’ve had my suspicions that you might be gay for quite a few years.” He chuckled. “After all, you’ve never had any interest in girls, even in school. Who is the fellow?”

Michael took a deep breath and blurted out, “Patrick O’Casey.”

Patrick’s eyebrows shot up in astonishment. “What are you saying, my boy?”

“I’m saying that you’re the man I love. I’ve been in love with you for years – probably all my life, although I never really knew it until I reached puberty. I love you so much, it almost hurts – and not just because you’re my father.”

More silence.

“I … I don’t know what to say, Michael,” Patrick said eventually. “You’ve given me a lot to think about. I’ll need some time to come to terms with this. You’d better go. I’ll call you in a few days, after I’ve thought this through.”

“Dad, I …”

“Hush, son. Please … don’t say anything. Just … go. I’ll be in touch with you before the week is out, I promise.”

Michael stood, tears filling his eyes, and moved to the front door. Opening it, he looked back at his father sitting there with an unreadable expression on his face, then walked out the door and returned to his own home.

*****

Three days later, a Friday, Michael was sitting in his private office at work when his cellphone rang.

“O’Casey here,” he answered, not checking the caller ID.

“Michael, it’s your father. I know your birthday ended badly. Can you come to dinner tonight? I’m ready to talk,” Patrick said quickly, all in one breath.

“Sure, dad. What time?”

“Let’s say around seven o’clock, if that’s convenient. Oh, and plan to stay for the weekend, if you can.”

“Of course. I’ll see you then.” The line went dead.

That night Michael was standing at his father’s front door. As he reached for the doorbell, the door flew open, and his father ushered him into the house.

“Come in, my boy. I’m glad you’re here. I have a few things I need to say tonight. But first, let’s eat.”

After dinner and idle chitchat, they again adjourned to the living room, sitting across from each other.

“Before I start,” Patrick began, “I want your promise that you won’t interrupt me until I tell you I’m done. Okay?”

Michael nodded his agreement and mimed zipping his lips closed.

“First of all,” his father continued, “you should know that the moment your mom told me she was pregnant, I knew I wanted the child. What you don’t know is that your mom and I were not married when she became pregnant. You were the result of a one-night stand, where I wanted to prove to myself that I loved having sex with women. What can I say? I was 16, and my hormones were raging.” Both men chuckled.

“Your mom and I were in the same class at school, and she wanted to experience sex also. It seemed like a perfect set-up. We didn’t think about using protection. A month or so later, she told me she was pregnant. She wanted an abortion, but I refused to allow it. She signed a form waiving all rights to your upbringing. We got married in front of a Justice of the Peace, so that you wouldn’t be a bastard. Soon after you were born, we got a quickie divorce, and she disappeared from the area, leaving me with sole custody of you. I never heard from her again. I found out recently that she died many years ago.”

Michael made a sympathetic sound. Patrick held up his hand.

“I’m not finished yet. I’ve loved being your dad, watching you grow from a baby into a confident, handsome man. I wouldn’t trade the last twenty-five years being your father for anything. I’ll always love you, my boy, and I’m very proud to be your dad.

“But here’s something about me you’ve never known. Son … I’m gay, too. After that one time with your mom, I knew that women didn’t lie in my future. Being a cop, I’ve had to be careful. I have a few … erm … ‘friends with benefits’ on the force. We limit our play to mutual masturbation and some kissing, but nothing more. I never brought any of them home, because … well, I didn’t want you asking too many questions, but now … I guess the time for hiding is over.”

Patrick sat back, apparently finished. “Okay, son, now it’s your turn.”

Michael, stunned, sat there formulating his thoughts for a minute or so before speaking.

“Dad, I had no idea. I often wondered why you never remarried while I was growing up, but I didn’t have the balls to ask you. Your being gay never entered my mind.” He sat back in his chair. “So how do you feel about my feelings for you?”

“I’ve thought about that a lot in the past few days, boy. Society and religion emphatically condemn incest, but I think that’s because heterosexual incest can result in offspring with … genetic abnormalities, I guess, is a good way to put it. Sex between a father and son makes such concerns irrelevant. It’s that simple.

“I’ve always loved you, son. I don’t know yet if I’m ‘in love’ with you, simply because I’ve never considered the possibility that you could be in love with me. But I’m seventeen years older than you are, Michael. You should find someone closer to your own age, so you both can grow old together. I hate to think of your being alone after I die – and face it, chances are that I’ll go before you will.”

Michael shook his head vehemently. “As far as I’m concerned, dad, age is irrelevant when two people truly love one another. Believe me, I’ve looked around, but no one else has ever made me feel the way you do when I’m with you. We belong together. We understand each other like no one else does. I want us to spend the rest of our lives together.”

“You make a very strong argument, my boy.” Patrick stood and walked over to where his son was seated. Grasping Michael’s hands, he pulled the younger man to his feet and into his arms. “Kiss me, son.”

Michael’s muscular arms encircled his father’s brawny torso in an enthusiastic bear hug, which Patrick eagerly reciprocated as their mouths met, and their lips mashed together. A needy whimper escaped the younger man’s mouth, muffled by his father’s tongue invading and exploring his oral cavity. Their burly, muscular bodies crushed against each other in the urgency of their passion.

After several minutes of making out, they broke apart. “Take me to bed, Dad,” Michael panted. “Let’s make love.”

Patrick took his son’s hand. “Okay, son,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “Come with me.” He pulled Michael behind him up the stairs to his bedroom. “If we’re doing this, then we’re going to do it right. We have entirely too many clothes on, my boy. Let’s get naked.”

The two men wasted no time stripping off their clothes, leaving them in a mingled pile on the bedroom floor. Standing facing one another, the two men locked eyes, reaching out and fondling the other’s hard cock and low-hanging balls with one hand, while the other hand rested on the other’s broad shoulder. Shuffling over to Patrick’s king-sized bed, they fell onto it and resumed their passionate kissing, each man’s hands exploring every available inch of the other man’s body.

Naked, they looked more like brothers than father and son, with handsome, square-jawed faces topped with thick auburn-red hair. Patrick’s face had a few more lines, and his hair had a few flecks of gray, but not many. Their thick necks fanned out into wide shoulders and powerful arms. Covered with hirsute pelts on their torsos, their pecs were broad plates of meaty muscle capped by pink nipples that poked defiantly up through the hair. The hair dwindled somewhat as it trailed down over their firm midriffs, fanning out again in auburn forests at their crotches.

Even their erect cocks were similar – thick, meaty cylinders about five inches around and nine hard inches in length. Both were leaking copious amounts of precum, drenching their crotches as the two massive organs mashed together. The room was already warm, but the physical activity of the two horny men ratcheted the temperature even higher, and their brawny bodies became slippery with sweat as they writhed against each other, rolling around on the big bed.

Eventually Patrick pushed himself up by his arms and looked lovingly at his son lying beneath him. “Tell me, Michael,” he murmured, “What would you like us to do together, my boy … sexually, I mean, of course?”

“For years, Dad, I’ve fantasized about this moment …” the younger O’Casey unhesitatingly responded, “… about your making love to me. More than anything in the world, I want to feel your naked body pressed against mine, with your big cock buried inside me, filling me with your sperm.”

“I see,” Patrick smiled. “Ever since your birthday visit earlier this week, I’ve been thinking along the same lines … except with you fucking me. Hopefully both our dreams will come true this weekend, my son … my lover.”

He leaned down and kissed Michael tenderly, then raised himself to his knees between his son’s muscular legs and pushed them up. Michael grabbed them behind the knees and pulled them so that he was bent double. His exposed buttocks were upturned, and Patrick admired the sexy sight before burying his face between them.

The policeman stuck out his tongue and trailed it along the butt-crease, paying special attention to his son’s puckered sphincter, eliciting a lusty groan from Michael. The taste was sweaty and musky, but clean and not at all unpleasant. After much teasing by his insistent tongue, Michael’s elastic asshole began to loosen, and his father drilled into the opening and sluiced some of his saliva up into the chute.

“For a beginner, Dad, you’re damn good at this,” Michael groaned.

“The internet is a good teacher,” Patrick chuckled. He worked one finger, then two, then three through the ass ring and up the velvety channel. Michael sighed contentedly, giving no indication of feeling any pain. Once the hole was completely relaxed, Michael let go of his knees, and Patrick slowly lowered his son’s legs until the tip of his throbbing boner was pressing against the puckered portal into his son’s body.

“Are you ready for this, son? I’m clean, but do you want me to use a condom?” Patrick asked in concern.

“I’m ready, Dad,” Michael smiled reassuringly, nodding eagerly. “I don’t want any barriers between us. I’m clean, too. Shove that big dick of yours inside me fast and fuck me raw and hard!”

“If you say so, boy. Here I come.”

Eager to comply with his son’s demand, Patrick thrust forward assertively, punching through his son’s rosebud and barging up Michael’s well douched shit chute. Michael howled at the brutal invasion, partly in pain but mostly in pleasure as his insides gradually adjusted to the long-desired invader. He felt his father’s naked abdomen slap against his ass cheeks. Patrick was buried to the hilt inside his son.

The men froze, trying to master their rampant emotions. Patrick felt that he would cum immediately if he didn’t get himself under control, and Michael felt likewise as his father’s throbbing boner pulsed against his prostate. He grinned up at his dad reassuringly.

“Damn it, Michael,” Patrick said through clenched teeth, “this is my very first time fucking anyone since you were conceived. I don’t want to cum yet.”

“Don’t worry, Dad. I’m sure you’re good for more than a single orgasm tonight. You feel so good up my ass, like it’s where your cock belongs. Take things at your own pace. We have all weekend.”

The older man relaxed, the threat of premature ejaculation subsiding, and slowly pulled out and then pushed back in. Gradually he worked up to a steady fucking rhythm, spurred on by his son’s moans of lust.

“Yeah, Dad, you’re doing great,” Michael urged. “You feel just as great as I knew you would. Yeah, fuck my hole. Breed me deep, Dad. Don’t hold back.”

“Damn, son, your hole feels so hot and tight … even better than I imagined. You’re making your old man feel really happy right now. Oh … yeah! Your Daddy is fucking you, boy!” Beads of sweat dripped off his face to land on his son’s torso, already damp with its own perspiration.

Michael reached up to let his hands roam all over his father’s hairy chest and belly, paying special attention to the meaty pecs and swollen nipples.

“Yeah, son, that feels so good. Work my tits, boy,” Patrick moaned. After several minutes of relaxed fucking, punctuated by lusty moans from both men and the slap … slap … slap of flesh against flesh, Patrick felt his balls begin to pull up to the base of his boner, and a feeling of imminent orgasm started building as his thrusts increasing in speed and intensity.

“Oh, God … oh, yeah … fuck! I’m almost … there, son. Get ready … for my load. Here I … cum!” Patrick bellowed. He made one final, brutal thrust, driving his boner even further up Michael’s steaming chute, and froze in the throes of his climax. Sperm rushed up the length of his hard nine-incher and blasted out the end of his cockhead into his son’s welcoming body. Four … five … six explosive volleys punched against Michael’s prostate, followed by quite a few decreasing aftershocks that wracked his body.

Awash in his own orgasm, Patrick hardly noticed the tightening of Michael’s ass ring around his cock or the thrashing of Michael’s body as his son shot his own load up over his glistening torso. The exhausted policeman collapsed on his son’s muscular torso, only then registering the congealing sperm streaking Michael’s muscular body.

“What? Did you cum, too?” Patrick asked incredulously, panting from his exertions.

“Oh, yeah,” his son chuckled. “You fucked my load right out of me, you stud. I loved it. You exceeded my wildest expectations, Dad.”

After a few minutes of cuddling and exchanging kisses and endearments, Michael suggested, “We’d better wash off, Dad. I don’t want my sperm to dry and stick us together!”

“Damn, son, I wouldn’t have thought of that,” Patrick chuckled. “It’s a good thing I have an oversized shower, so we both can fit.” The lovers disentangled and, arising from the bed, adjourned to the bathroom for a long, sensuous shower together. When they were done, they took turns toweling each other dry, then returned to the bed, where they cuddled in each other’s arms as they drifted off to sleep.