My son, My trade

The following is a work of fiction depicting graphic scenes of sexual encounters between consenting individuals which is meant to be enjoyed by a mature audience.  

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"Get in here, boy.  We need to have a talk!"

It was past midnight and Marc Hauser had just come home after a steamy session with Denny Burkhardt, he of the wrist-thick dick.  He reeked of sex and his asshole was probably leaking the chubby truck driver's huge load.  All he wanted to do was strip, clean up and get some rest.  Instead, here was his father with an open bottle of Scotch in front of him wanting to have a conversation.

Leaning against the doorframe to the living room, lit only by the flickering glare of the television set on mute, Marc sighed, "Can it wait 'til tomorrow, Dad?  It's late and I'm beat."

"You think I don't know what time it is?"  Buck's gruff voice was even thicker from the liquor.  

"Didn't know I had a curfew," Marc remarked in a snarky manner, further incensing his father.

"Sit down!" Buck ordered, his voice rising.

"Jeez, Dad.  Can I at least use the bathroom?"  In that way he'd have time to clean up a bit.

"Sit down!"  Buck repeated, more forcefully this time.

"I've got to take a leak."

"HOLD IT!  Now sit the fuck down!"

Buck Hauser was a big, beefy and strong man.  For a number of years he'd been a steelworker until the work-related accident which claimed one man's life and left Buck and co-worker Rick Majors with injuries.  Buck sued, won, and then lost half of the settlement when the insurance investigator caught him moonlighting on a construction job.  Since then Buck had been replacing his lost income with a bartending job at Ralph's Place down the street.  Buck was a macho man's man and in the major part of his thirty-six years had been in his share of barroom brawls.  Some he won, very few he lost.  When he got pissed the object of his fury usually backed down.  For one of the few times in his seventeen years Marc now found himself in the same predicament.

Taking a seat on the love seat flush against the wall he leaned forward with forearms resting on his spread thighs.  "What's up, Dad?" he asked innocently.

Buck stared his son down for a few moments.  Breathing heavily, his nostrils flared and his thick brows were knitted angrily.  "How 'bout you tell me?  You tell me what's up."

Marc let out a small nervous laugh.  "Jeez, Dad, I dunno.  Why you lookin' so pissed off?  Did I do somethin'?"

"Yeah, you could say that," Buck countered, bobbing his dark-haired head in the affirmative.  "Not somethin', though.  More like some-BODY."

Marc blanched.  Swallowing hard, in a small voice he managed, "Not sure where you're goin' with this, Buck."

"DENNY-FUCKIN'-BURHKARDT!" Buck roared, his face red with fury.  "Was takin' out the bar trash and I seen you gettin' into the fat bastard's rig!"

Thinking quickly Marc came back with, "It was stuffy in here.  Went out for some fresh air and saw his truck parked down the block.  So I went over and talked with him for a while."

Buck's dark eyes hardened.  "Since when you hang out with Denny Burkhardt?  You're feedin' me a line of shit.  I could see the two of you movin' around in that cab."

Marc knew the jig was up.  But he still had to try to extricate himself from this fix.  If not for his sake, then for Denny's.  "Jeez, Dad, what do you think we were doin' there?  I told you, we were just shootin' the shit.  That's all."

"Same as you do with Clayton Hoyt?  At least three, four times a fuckin' week?  You think I can't see the house from the bar?  You think I don't see him walk right in here pretty-as-ya'-fuckin'-please lookin' like an excited schoolboy, then sneakin' out like the cat that ate fuckin' Tweety Bird?"  Buck's voice had risen until he was literally shouting.  "Quit your lying to me!"

Marc threw up his arms.  "All right, Buck!  All right!  Seems like you already got it all figured out anyway.  We're fucking.  Every time you're spying and see Clayt come over he's fucking me up in my bedroom.  And whenever Denny rolls into town we get it on in his rig.  There, now you know.  Satisfied?"  With a huge exasperated sigh he threw himself back against the cushions of the seat.  

Buck was silent for a moment.  He'd more than suspected but hearing it from Marc's lips was something of a shock.  His baby boy, his only son.  Marc had always been a good kid, never gave him any trouble.  Seemed like your average, normal teenager.  Popular at school, decent friends, proficient at b-ball.  Who was this boy sitting in the darkened room with him now?  This wasn’t the son he thought he knew.

"When the fuck did you go queer?"  he finally asked.

Marc shook his head and grinned sardonically.  He hadn't expected much more from his blue-collar, old school father.  "It's not like I'm gay or something.  I don't want a boyfriend.  I'm not planning to marry up with some dude.  And I'm not into girly stuff.  I just like dick.  Ever since I first saw one other than my own.  I like sucking it.  I like it pounding my asshole.  I.  Like.  Dick."

Buck's big macho body shifted uncomfortably on the sofa.  Fuck if his dick wasn't swelling up.  "Who?" he demanded.  "I wanna know who's been fucking you."

"Cripes, Buck!  You want a list?"

"There's that fuckin' many?" the beleaguered father exclaimed.

"Well," Marc clucked his tongue and looked away almost sheepishly, "there's been a few."

"For crissake!"  Buck leaned forward and cradled his face in his large, manly hands.  "My son, the whore.  Just like your goddamn mother."

"Hey, Buck," Marc retorted with an angry frown, "I'm over sixteen.  That's the age of consent in this state.  I can get down with anyone I want."

Buck looked at his son with shocked disbelief.  "And where the fuck did you hear that?"

"I looked it up," Marc quietly admitted.

"You looked it up," Buck replied sarcastically.  Then, more angrily, "First off, boy, I'm your father.  Not Buck.  Second, get your ass over here so we can talk this out father to son."

"I'm right here," Marc replied insolently.

"I said get the fuck over here!" Buck's commanding voice boomed.  Marc clucked his tongue again, rolled his eyes and then rose from the love seat to throw himself down on the sofa not two feet from his old man.  "Now, boy, give me names."

Marc threw out an arm from his side, palm raised.  "What are you gonna do, Buck---I mean Dad? Go and punch them out or something?  That's usually the way you handle things."

It was precisely what Buck would have liked to have done.  But he knew to admit that would get him nowhere with his son. "I'm not gonna beat up on anyone," he replied, as reassuringly as he could muster.

Marc thought for a few moments.  Buck could see the wheels turning in the good looking boy's head.  Finally he said, "Alright.  I'll give you three."

"Let's have it," Buck replied, perhaps a bit too eagerly.  "I already know Clayton and Denny.  Who else been fucking you?"

Marc rested his head on the back of the sofa and looked up at the ceiling, thinking.  For crissake, Buck thought, it's taking him that long to select from his personal catalog!  Finally he spat out, "Gage Bramble."

Buck's registered shock.  "Gage Bramble!  That fuckin' hoodlum?  You don't even get along with Gage Bramble.  You got in a scrape with him a few years back."

"Yeah, well, we've found a way to work things out," the boy replied sardonically.  

Gage Bramble was a young tough, the kind of high school kid everybody knew was destined to be a bum.  He was Neanderthal featured, with a broad hooded forehead, deep set eyes hard as ball bearings and thick, cruel lips.  He had a mane of dark, nearly black hair parted dead center falling down over his ears and just past his shoulders.  Rare was the occasion that a cigarette, Marlboro, wasn't dangling from the corner of his mouth. He was never without his signature worn leather jacket.  A total hood.  He was wearing that jacket, and nothing else, the first time he fucked Marc in the back seat of his father's beat up Daytona while his crony, Jay Kovacs kept watch.  It was repayment for Marc doing Gage's English Lit paper.  

"Gage-fuckin'-Bramble," Buck repeated, shaking his head in a daze.  Sure he'd seen the Bramble's old wreck out front of the house last week, observed Gage and that wiry sonofabitch Kovacs come out all jacked up.  Deep down he'd known what was going on; just couldn't bring himself to admit it.  Now he was faced with the reality that no-account Rick Bramble's son was fucking his boy.  Christ, he'd just tossed Rick from the bar a couple nights ago for getting drunk and rowdy.  Wasn't the first time; wouldn't be the last.  

Shaking off this first of three potential shocks Buck geared himself up for the next.  "Who else?"  Just as Marc opened his mouth to speak Buck interrupted, "And don't be givin' up Billy, Bryan or any of your other buddies that've been spendin' a lot of time over here lately.  I already got that figured out.  I want to hear about the others."

Marc grinned slyly, but not so that his father could see.   He had an idea Buck was beginning to enjoy the telling.  Selecting his revelation carefully so as to stun, and possibly entice his father even further, he offered, "Mr. Stankovich."

Buck's eyes shot wide.  "Stankovich!  That Polish bastard must be ninety by now!"

"He just turned eighty," Marc corrected dryly.

Buck heaved his strong body against the back of the sofa, clamped his large hands atop his head and blew off heated steam.  His motion caused his groin to momentarily thrust out and up and Marc could have sworn he saw a hardened bulge by the flickering light of the television screen.  "We always figured that old fuck was a pervert, living alone in that old house all these years never married.  And what do ya know, he's fuckin' my son!"  A thought suddenly occurred to him and, of course, he just had to know.  "How in fuck does he do it?  He's old as fuck.  Walks with a cane last I seen.  Does the damned thing even work anymore?"

"Well," Marc admitted, rather enjoying sharing his sordid story, "not so much anymore.  When it does I'm always the one on top.  Funny thing, Buck, men get old, wrinkled and their skin gets all loose but their cocks still look the same.  When old Stank is feelin' his oats that dick of his is as good as anyone else’s.  You should see the poor old guy, how excited he gets when I get naked, climb up on top and slip his dick into my pussy.  And when he can't get it up he takes out his teeth, eats me out awhile and then gums me until I shoot my load down his throat."

A long wail rose up from Buck's lungs and released itself as a soulful whimper.  His son was excitedly speaking to him like some of those guys down at the bar talking about their latest piece of ass.  Referring to his own asshole as his pussy! The image now etched in his mind of his good looking, long-legged, smooth skinned boy cavorting with that gnarled, elderly pedo was one which would remain forever etched in his mind.  Of all the possibilities, why in fuck would the kid make it with Stankovich?  He needed to know.  Therefore, in a rather small voice for him, he asked.

"We all heard the stories you and the other guys told about Stank.  That he was some kind of perv, liked little boys and we were never to accept any candy he offered and generally steer clear of him and that creepy old house.  Well, I couldn't very well do that when the Stankovich house was on my paper route.  That was about the time when I first start getting the, ya know, itch."

"Waitaminute!" Buck interrupted, his thick brows furrowed.  "You ran the papers in the seventh grade."

"Well," Marc clucked his tongue, "yeah.  Anyhow, I was getting desperate, beating off all the time and wanting to, you know, do it.  But I didn't know anyone else who had the same thoughts as me.  For dick.  And then I thought about what you all always said about Stank.  So one day making collections I asked him if I could come in for a drink of water.  He was more than glad to have me for a visit.  The inside of the house is nowhere as bad as the outside.  Old Stank keeps it up pretty nice.  Anyways, I was a little nervous.  I mean, what if it wasn't true?  What if Stank wasn't the perv you all said?  But I just had to know.  So Stank gives me the glass of water and invites me to sit across from him in the parlor.  That's what he calls it, the parlor.  He's making small talk, asking about school and what grade I'm in and junk like that.  And the way he's looking at me, his rheumy old eyes are really sparkling.  I'm actually a little scared but I do it anyway.  I purposely miss my mouth and spill some of the water right on the crotch of my jeans.  I make like it's an accident, but I'm like wiping the spot and eventually I'm squeezing and groping.  Old Stank is licking his chops and I know for sure now.  So I unzip, fish out my dick and start beating off in front of him.  Stank, he can't control himself.  Probably never was a seventy-five year old who moved so fast to get a taste of what he was hankering for.  That day I found out that all my fantasies were nowhere near as good as the real thing.  And I knew it's what I wanted."

Buck's mouth was as dry as the Sahara as he sat there staring at his son in shocked disbelief.  He didn't miss Marc's eyes dropping to his crotch and the obvious thumping of his hardon against the inside of his pants.  

"Who else?" he managed, incredulity obvious in his strangled voice.

Marc thought a moment.  The corner of his mouth turned up in a slight cunning smile as he said, "Mr. Williams."

"WILLIAMS!  YOU MEAN WILLIAMS FROM OVER ON DAVIS AVE?  WILLIAMS, THAT BIG NIG---"

"Uh-uh, Dad," Marc scolded, "your racism is showing."

"You let a nig---a black man fuck you?"  Buck was obviously incensed.  In high school Otis Williams was two years ahead of him.  He was a big, muscular kid even then.  One look from Williams could send most running.  Buck tangled with him once.  High school stuff.  Although he'd taken a licking Buck had managed to get in a few decent licks.  There was none could defeat Williams.  He was the school's champion wrestler.  Could have gone pro.  Instead he stayed in this sleepy industry town, took a manual labor job at the old mill, married up and had two boys around Marc's age.  They lived in a shingle-sided two story similar to the Hauser place three blocks over.  

"Went over to the Williams place to hang with Elijah---you know, his youngest son.  He's going to be a Senior this year, like me.  Anyway, they've got their basement sort of fixed up.  There's still a utility area, laundry machine and junk but Mr. Williams made like a gym in one section.  The floor is covered with mats, there's a punching bag, a bench press and weights.  We were fooling around with the weights when Mr. Williams comes home.  He hears us and comes downstairs.  We all get to talking and he tells us how he used to wrestle when he was about our age.  Offers to show me some moves.  After, he tells me to come back anytime and he'll teach me more.  

"So one day I go over after dinner and Mr. Williams is there all alone.  Elijah and Kareem, that's the older one, went off with their mother somewhere.  I think it was to visit her people over in Clark.  Anyways, Mr. Williams tells me to come in.  He's wearin' a wifebeater, probably the one he had on under his uniform all day, and baggy sweatpants.  Even after givin' up wrestling his arms are all hard and pumped up.  We go down to the basement and hit the mats.  I'm pretty much into it.  I mean, all this grappling with another guy and all.  Mr. Williams gets me pinned face down to the mat, his big body is on top and I sort of rear my ass up against his crotch.  I try and do it innocent-like, as if it just sorta happens because I'm trying to rassle free.  But I guess when I started grinding against him he caught on.  He starts rubbing against me and I can feel him getting harder and harder.  Next thing I know he's yanking my shorts down, spitting a hocker on my asshole and shoving his dick inside me.

"Damn, what a cock on him!  It's true what ya hear about black dudes.  They're fuckin' hung!   Maybe wasn't quite as huge as Clayton.  But pretty darned close.  He fucked me like a savage, really tearing me up.  And I loved every second of it.  I think I came not two minutes into the fuck.  Quickest I ever shot off.  Mr. Williams lasted a lot longer.  He flipped me over, bent my legs back so they were nearly at my sides and kept thrusting away.  He's telling me that I'm a cute little white boy.  That boys like me are made for takin' a black man's dick.  I'm runnin' my hands all over his arms, feeling those muscles at work, really admiring that sweating ebony body.  I've seen a lot of guys turned on, but nobody as much as Mr. Williams was.  All of a sudden he shoves his mouth over mine, his tongue thrusts inside and I'm grabbin' him behind his shaved head and makin' out with Mr. Williams while he's fuckin' me."

Buck groaned.

"When he came he came hard," Marc went on.  "I swear all those muscles just kind of bunched up, veins rose to the surface and looked like they were gonna burst.  He bellowed so loud it's a good thing no one else was at home.  I squeezed my ass down around that big cock like Mr. Stankovich taught me to do and I could feel each time he pulsed out another shot.  I counted five big ones.  When I drained him he sort of just fell on top of me.  I couldn't get out from under if I even wanted to.  Which I didn't.  Mr. Williams is a real stud.  Been goin' back every time he calls me to tell me the coast is clear.  We train a little, then we fuck."

"He shot his nig---black spooge up your ass?" Buck was beyond disbelief.

"Well, like, yeah.  Where else do you think?  Well, except for when he skull fucks me and shoots down my throat.  I try and back off so I can take it in the mouth.  You know what they say:  the darker the fruit, the sweeter the juice.  Or somethin' like that."

"Who else?" Buck demanded through gritted teeth.

"No way, Dad," Marc said, shaking his head.  "You said three.  That's all you're getting."

"I don't care what the fuck I said," Buck raged. "I want to know." 

Marc sat up straight and looked him square in the eye.  "You know, seems like I'm the one doing all the honest talk here.  How about you, Dad?  How about you being truthful?"

Buck was confused.  "About what?" 

"Oh, I don't know," Marc taunted, repositioning himself on the sofa so that he was totally facing his father.  "How about the night you spied on me?  Did you think I wasn't gonna notice the cotton ball removed from my bedroom door keyhhole?  Or that when I got up to take a leak and stepped in the puddle you left on the floor I wasn't gonna know what it was?  You were beating off watching me beat off.  And left the evidence on the floor and dripping down my door."  Looking at him squarely, he said, "I know what cum tastes like, Dad."

"You---WHAT?"  Buck's eyes were wide, his heart was thundering in his chest and he scarcely thought he was even breathing.

"I scooped some up, brought it to my mouth.  Tasted it.  You're got some nice, full-flavored cum, Dad.  Even sampled some off the door."

"Get your pants off!" Buck commanded.

Another roll of the eyes.  "Don’t you think I'm a little old for spanking?"

"I said GET THOSE FUCKING PANTS OFF!" Buck repeated.  At the same time he was fumbling with the catch of his fly.  Suddenly Marc understood.  His eyes went wide and he became instantly consumed with the thrill of expectation.  His carefully selected true stories had made Buck so horned up that he was beyond restraint, a wild man who needed to stake his claim. It was everything he'd hoped for when he began the tales.

Marc stripped down in record time.  Pants, shoes, and shirt---everything went flying across the room.  Buck was a bull in heat, ripping off his threads too.  Marc had seen his father shirtless before and Buck certainly had no shame about walking around in his undershorts, so he knew his father was a stud.  But only in his masturbatory fantasies had he envisioned his cock.  Fully erect and leaking a stream of excited pre-cum it was everything Marc had imagined.  And more.  Buck's manhood was a real beaut.  A he-man's cock.  It rose majestically in a perfect arc to at least nine fat inches, darker than the rest of Buck's manly body and etched by a network of heavy, throbbing veins.  The cockknob was bulbous and perfectly formed, a real hole wrecker.  Resting high between his hairy thighs was an equally hairy sac of man-sized nuts, heavy with succulent cream.  Marc couldn't figure why his mother had walked out on a man built like Buck. Good thing she did, though.  Buck was all his now.

Growling like a poked bear Buck took Marc by his long, b-ball toned legs and roughly pulled him across the sofa so he rested on his back with his head against the arm-rest.  Buck yanked those lithe legs wide and Marc quickly accommodated by pulling them back so he was splayed wide open.  Buck's hungry eyes zeroed in on his son's twitching fuck hole.  He snarled even more bestially when his boy pumped out a surge of spent cum.  Denny's.  Buck didn't give a fuck.  Wouldn't be his first time taking sloppy seconds.  At some of the raunchier bachelor's parties he'd attended those sluts pussies were literally dripping cum.  On hand and knees he crawled up over his son.  Marc's paws were immediately all over his husky frame, touching and feeling.  Once in the driver's seat he lined up and thrust at the puckered gash.  Marc's warm ass lips parted and he sunk ball's deep into his son's pussy.

Denny's must have cum at least a pint because it was all wet and slick inside.  Or else Marc had taken a few other loads before he hooked up with the trucker.  When it came to sluts, you never knew.  And Buck was now certain his son was the town whore.  Giving it up to everybody except Daddy.  The kid was all warm and mushy inside.  Little slut was clamping down and squeezing his nine hard inches, almost like he was lovingly caressing it with his boy pussy.  Felt like a warm, oily love glove wrapped nice and snug around his dick, tighter than a bitch's vagina.  Fuck, his boy felt incredible!

Marc had never seen his father like this before.  He looked like a hungry, sex-crazed beast.  His ruggedly handsome face was flushed, his nostrils flared with short, heavy breathing and his dark eyes bore a glazed, almost frightening look.  It was almost as if this wasn't his father at all.  An entity, perhaps, which had possessed the man's body with the sole purpose of taking young, vulnerable Marc.  But no, that was a fantasy he had used in the past.  This was actually happening.  The big, well-built man was hovering above him, his strong steelworker's arms to either side propping him up.  The fat daddy dick was lodged inside him, throbbing maddeningly, and ready to fuck.

"Fuck me, Dad!" Marc gushed.

Looking down into his son's face the older man snarled through bared teeth, "Call me Buck."  Drawing back until the chunky head was pulling out the kid's stretched ass lips he immediately lunged forward hard with his hips and buried himself once again.  The big cock head shot through the boy's inner sphincter and made him shudder all over.  Marc's fingers dug into his father's muscular arms and he cooed like a babe.  Buck drilled his power tool into his son again and again as if he were trying to punish him for being such a nasty boy.  But for Marc it was pure bliss.  He tightened his inner muscles around the human jack hammer, reshaping what Denny had stretched and gave Buck an embracing sleeve to fuck.

And fuck, Buck did!  He fucked like he hadn't in years.  He tore up Marc's ass with little regard to the boy's possible discomfort.  To his muddled thinking it wasn't his son anyway.  This hot teen was all sleazy slut, the type who would spread his legs for any man.  Hadn't he already proven that with his lurid tales?  A high school ruffian, an octogenarian pedo, a geeky postal carrier and a black man.  And that was only for starters.  Probably the kid's godfather, Ralph, and the rest of the regulars over at the bar.  And then who?  For all Buck knew the kid was getting dicked by half the men on this side of town.  Why the fuck should he, the father, be left out?

Marc gladly gave himself up to his father's heated lust, aroused even more by those deep-chested feverish groans coming from the he-man.  His hands lustily explored Buck's still-hard, muscular and manly body.  He worshipped the broad, hairy chest with those beefy man-tits and pinky-thick nubs, the thick thrusting hips and the outward swell of his hard gut.  Laying exploring hands on those rapidly rising and falling ass cakes he marveled at how full and firm they were.  Buck's glutes were already glistening with man sweat and the hairy crack of his ass was deliciously hot and moist to the touch.  It was the kind of masculine ass Marc loved to dive his face into. 

He ran his hands up and down those sturdy arms to either side of his body, marveling at the thickness and strength.  Damn, Buck was a hunk of man!  In a relatively short time he'd had quite a few, but there was no one quite as studly as his father.  Well, maybe Gage's dad came in a close second.  There was such a ferocious glowering look on Buck's face, like he was hell-bent on fucking the living shit out of him.  His teeth were bared, veins were throbbing to the surface at his temples and down the sides of his neck and his eyes held a menacing, almost crazed look.  He was actually growling like a hostile bear as he forcefully pounded Marc's ass.  Marc moaned in appreciation of the rough treatment, jerked his head from side to side on the armrest and rolled his eyes in intense rapture.

The cluttered, darkened room resounded with fuck sounds as Buck repeatedly slammed into the teen.  Now that he'd taken the plunge there was no holding him back.  A wet squishing accompanied his heated thrusts as he stirred up Denny's cum load and pushed it deep into the boy's guts.  He knew he was rough fucking the kid and didn't care.  Neither, apparently, did Marc. Seemed the more brutal he got, the more elated his son became.  When it came to whores, this one outdid his mother.  No wonder all these neighborhood men wanted a piece of his ass.  Buck could hardly blame them.

Marc was groaning in delight, grabbing hold of his father wherever his hands could reach.  That deep-shoving dick was really wreaking havoc on his prostate, making his toes curl and fine hairs stand on end.  The boy's nuts were positively quivering with explosive pressure.  Fuck, he didn't want to cum yet.  Didn't want either one of them to cum.  Wanted his father to fuck him clear into dawn.  But his youthful body was trembling fiercely and he knew there was no delaying the inevitable.  With a strangled cry his body tensed and hot, steamy cum shot out of his throbbing dick coating him from taut belly to neck.  Buck didn't let up.  In fact, he plowed the boy ever-faster when he felt the telltale contortions throughout his asshole.  Many times as he'd been fucked Marc had never experienced anything like it before.  It was the kind of cum that could drive a boy delirious and make him want to hold that cock in him forever.  

Sweating like a race horse Buck showed the stamina of a much younger man.  Blood was racing through his veins, pounding at his temples and his breathing had gone ragged.  Still he fucked that boy, ripping his unruly butt apart.  Every nerve ending in his big, burly body seemed to be on fire. His heart battered against his ribs.  His pulse rate was off the charts.  His big body was shaking and his handsome face was contorted with the desperate need to cum.  With the hairs on his balls bristling Buck gut-punched into the convulsing grasp of his son's pussy, threw back his head to bellow loudly and blasted gobs of dad spunk into the boy.  He groaned and shuddered as wave after wave of white hot pleasure coursed through his body.  Marc the Whore clasped his insides around the exploding member and milked every rich wad of cream from the spurting dick. Buck bred the boy, his son, with the largest load his ballsac had ever produced, all his jizz comingling with Denny's to really power wash the kid's ass.

When the waves of pleasure subsided Buck backed off the boy, yanking his spent cock from Marc's fuckhole with an indecent, slurping sound.  Still breathing heavily, he settled back against the opposing armrest and looked across at his son through enlightened eyes.  Gone was the well-adjusted, trouble-free boy he thought he'd raised.  The kid he'd always supported by attending all his basketball games had somewhere along the line been replaced by this filthy cock slut.  Instead of cheering on the home team he'd be wondering how many of them would be fucking his son in the locker room afterwards.  Every time Marc was out of his sight he'd assume the boy was giving himself away.  For free.  

And that's when the light bulb went on over Buck's head.  After those dirty louses had reclaimed part of his work injury settlement he'd been busting his ass working long hours over at Ralph's Place for tips while Marc was running around wild and not contributing to the kitty.  He'd been after the boy to get a summer job but the kid had come up empty.  Yeah, sure.  Probably never even put in one application.  A job would cut into his fucking around time.  Well, if the kid was intent on spending the summer getting laid he was damned sure going to get paid for it.  What Buck had just fucked was prime pussy, better than any cunt he'd ever dicked.  And Buck had fucked enough pussy to know what was merely good and what was exceptional.  What he'd just gotten off in was cream of the crop.

There the kid lounged, all stretched out in front of him.  There was a kind of lovesick, glazed look in his pretty green eyes.  The eyes of his mother.  He had one arm tucked behind his head and with the other he was scooping his load from his belly and casually licking it from his fingers. As Buck watched he raised a smooth sexy leg, bared his leaking asshole and gathered a sampling of the ooze for a taste.  Damned indecent little slut!

"You're goin' to work, boy," Buck finally spoke in a highly authoritative voice.  "About time you started chippin' in around here.  And I got just the job for you."  He swung his legs over to assume a normal sitting position on his side of the couch, his big dick still standing up from his hairy crotch.  "But first you're gonna take a ride.  Get over here and sit on Big Buck.  He's ready for another go-round."