Naval Tradition V: Looking for Mr. Right

Written with Corporal Cody

Charlottesville, Spring 2005

I couldn't believe that Holt actually got it for me.

I'd come back from batting practice to find a large and inconspicuous brown paper bag on my bed. There was a Post-it note on it with Holt's scrawl-like handwriting. "Have fun, McGrath."

I set my backpack down on my desk chair and sat down on the bed. It wasn't until I picked up the paper bag that I had a sense of what it was. Indeed, I slowly pulled out the box to see that it was an extra large, realistic dildo. New and still sealed in its packaging, it read, "11-Inch Supercock," in large bold print. There was a picture of one of the popular porn stars of the time, reclining in a jockstrap that barely contained his giant hardon, and his signature suggested that he was the model for the large fleshy toy.

I also knew it wasn't the porn star I'd be thinking of while practicing my dick-sucking skills. It was Robert Andrew McGrath, US Navy Captain. Dad.

Since Dad and I had reopened the door to our sexual relationship, I wanted to make sure I could handle his size, if I had another chance for sex with him. After my time with Dad, my big regret was that I didn't suck the man's cock better.

I know I should have been fixated on other things. The emotional minefield of crossing that line with my father again. The seriousness of the taboo. The need to keep it all about sex. Dad's admonishment that it would just be an occasional indulgence. I was fine with all that. I didn't want to go back to the feelings that Mexico brought out in me, but I was cautiously optimistic that this time was different.

That evening with Dad in his hotel room after my team's fundraiser had been such a perfect moment, only it went too quickly. Dad was too keyed up to last long in my mouth, and I was too excited to focus on giving my father head in the best way I knew how. I knew my skills had improved under Holt's instruction, and I worried I'd blown an opportunity to show Dad how much better I was.

Maybe next time, though I had no guarantee there would be a next time.

Holt didn't know any of that of course. But we were talking one night, one of those rare nights when it was just us in the apartment, sitting on the sofa, drinking beer and watching baseball. I shyly asked where he got his dildos. I'd seen them when he gave me his "Blowjobs 101 Course" months ago, and it had been in the back of my mind that it would help me with a larger endowed man like Dad.

Charlie gave me a sly grin. "There's an adult bookstore," he explained, describing where it was just outside of town. "They have a pretty good selection."

"They have really big ones?" I asked, dumbly. I was blushing even bringing this up, but I figured my best friend was someone I could open up to.

Holt almost spit out his beer in laughter at my question. "Yeah, McGrath, they have really big ones. How big you need?"

His amused expression embarrassed me more, but I pretended it didn't. "Ten inches, decently thick," I said, trying to speak with a bravado to match Holt's. Maybe I was feeling a buzz from the beer, too. "I need to practice my deep throat ability. Don't want all that Bulldozer training to go to waste," I smirked.

"Advanced Blowjobs curriculum?" my roommate teased.

I chuckled, glad Holt wasn't razzing me too hard. "Something like that."

Holt took a sip of beer then gave me a raised eyebrow. "You don't have a new man, do ya, McGrath?"

"Nah," I answered, shaking my head. "But... well, I did suck this guy who's really hung. I want to get better... in case I have another chance." I felt naughty talking about Dad with anyone else, even if I wasn't identifying him.

"Ten inches, huh?" Holt seemed impressed. "Damn..."

I was feeling strangely proud now. "Yeah. Honest to God, Holt. He had a huge fucking dick."

Holt gave me an encouraging grin. "Well... I'm pretty sure that store will have something for you."

"I just gotta get up the courage to go," I said.

I thought I was going to get a lecture from Holt. Now that he was graduating and dating Scott, he seemed to care less and less about staying in the closet. Meanwhile, if anything, I'd gotten more uptight sensing how real a baseball career might be in my future.

Instead, my buddy just shook his head in clear admiration. "Ten inches... good going, McGrath," he said with an "attaboy" smirk.

Leave it to Charlie to go and buy that dildo for me. I knew it was expensive, and I'd make sure to pay him back.

I quickly opened the box, amused at myself for how excited I was. As I took the dildo out, it felt surprisingly heavy in my hands. It wasn't a dead ringer for Dad's cock. It lacked a foreskin and had more of a curve than my father's tool. But it was just about the same size - thick but not overly fat, and definitely long.

I felt my mouth water and my cock harden in my pants. "Damn," I said aloud in my bedroom. I brought the toy up to my mouth with my hands gripping the base and the fake sac. As the tip bobbed in front of my face, I could smell the latex. And when my tongue licked the head, I had to admit the flavor, while not great, wasn't as strong as the scent. I opened my mouth and easily took a few inches in.

I let myself get reacquainted with the sensation, holding it steady in my hands as I bobbed back and forth on the rubber tool, simulating a blowjob as I felt the tip get closer to the back of my mouth. I figured I didn't have to worry about the finer technique, though I was sure I'd practice that in the future. For now, I wanted to see if I could do it. Take all of this bad boy.

I slowly began sucking more of that fake cock in, making my throat relax around it. I remembered all of Holt's instructions, watching the base come closer to my lips as I felt those fat inches stretch and slide down into my throat. It was weird feeling myself deepthroat again, but I was doing it.

Until I wasn't. The gag reflex kicked in. I fought it back but had to remove the dildo and catch my breath. I looked down at the fake phallus in my hands and realized that I had only taken a little over half. The next try went pretty much the same, and I was feeling frustrated.

I had an idea. Setting down the toy, I slid off the bed and slipped into my desk chair and fired up my laptop. It had been a while since I'd indulged myself like this, and in fact I thought I'd outgrown this phase. But there was a folder where I had some pictures of Dad. His Navy headshot in full dress uniform, as well as some of my favorite snapshots. It had been a while since I'd jacked off to these, but I was going to now.

I went through the images, feeling an excitement build deep inside my guts, before I decided on the one I wanted. It was one I took of Dad at the Mayan ruins in Mexico. He was sweaty and tan as he stood with his weight on one leg, hands hanging at his sides as he squinted from the sun and smiled for the camera. His dark brown and grey-streaked hair was a bit messier, his face a little scruffier. He was handsome as fuck... wearing a snug-fitting, Virginia baseball T-shirt, soaked through and clinging to his powerfully-molded chest and shoulders as the sleeves stretched around his biceps. I don't think he'd gone commando that day, but the loose chino shorts he had on were surprisingly tight around the lump of his heavy genitals. It wasn't obscene, but you could tell from the picture that my dad is hung as fuck.

I reached back to grab the long and heavy dildo off my bed then turned back to eye the photo in front of me. I relaxed back into my chair to try again with the dildo, lifting the bulbous head to my parted lips. The first few inches were like before - no easier, no harder. I sucked in more length, opening my mouth a little wider as I found the right angle. Then I started to work it past the tightness of my throat entrance. And then further back as I felt my resistance begin to give. It slid in more, and I focused my eyes on Dad's blown-up image on my computer screen.

God, my Dad is so fucking hot, I thought as I let my lust respond to his picture. I imagined his cock, erect and horny, lodged in my throat. I imagined doing this for him. Sucking his 10-inch, uncut cock, all the way. I imagined myself back in that hotel room, on my knees, looking up at Dad in his suit grinning down at me, his fingers on my hair as I gave him head.

The dildo was all the way buried in my gullet now, the nutsac now nudged against my chin. I had a momentary surprise that I did it, but I worried that if I focused on the sensation of the dildo, it wouldn't go as well. So I stayed intently with my fantasy. With Dad.

I gently sawed that rubber dong in and out. Slowly, but deeply. Every part of me knew this was insanely forbidden, dreaming of sucking my father's dick, perving off to a picture of him. I embraced the taboo, letting it fuel my excitement. I'd actually had sex with my own father, multiple times. And I'd do it again if he let me.

I was now giving full, wet, deepthroating strokes to that substitute cock. My throat would probably feel raw from it, but I wanted to savor the victory lap a little longer.

But I was getting too turned on. I didn't think I could coordinate holding the toy at the right angle while stroking off. However, I needed to masturbate and needed that release.

I slowly extracted the tool and it set aside, catching my breath. I was proud of my achievement but mostly I was turned on. I leaned back in my seat and took off my shorts and briefs, sliding them down around my ankles. My own fat erection stuck straight up, dripping at the tip, and I mentally compared my endowment to my father's. I had a nasty idea of Dad practicing on a dildo the size of my cock.

I gripped my dick in one hand and pulled open my desk drawer with the other, fishing out a small tube of slick. I lubed my left palm and the slick sensation was like magic on my neglected prick. It wouldn't take me long today.

"Yeah, Dad," I hissed, feeding off that forbidden incest fantasy. I began twisting my fist down my 8 inches, feeling jolts of pleasure with each stroke. My attention turned back to the laptop. I thought of enlarging the picture to make his crotch fill the screen. Instead, I closed that pic and brought up the uniformed head shot. It was one of Dad's best pictures - distinguished, handsome, with that steely glint in his gray eyes. And it was higher resolution, so I was able to enlarge it to make the face fill the frame.

I leaned back and tugged at my dick violently. And I came with a low, loud grunt. Heavy spurts of cum shot out, soaking my T-shirt from my collar to my belly. The semen seemed to keep flowing, too. Maybe it had been a couple of days since I'd gotten off.

I came down and released my sated dick. Unbelievably, as I caught my breath, I was still hard. I pulled off my now-stained T-shirt and then set about to close the images and wipe down the dildo, putting it away in a hidden place at the back of my closet.

I'd have to thank Holt later, for sure.

* * * *

The end of my junior year was kicking my ass. That semester my focus was squarely on baseball. The practices and the games kept me busy, sure, but I was also focusing on my own improvement. I found myself working out in the gym more intently and spending extra time at batting practice. I wasn't the only guy on the team who did, of course, and there were a few guys who inspired me to get better. I wanted to be professional-athlete caliber. And if I couldn't be, it wouldn't be because I didn't try.

I found myself talking more regularly with my Uncle Mike, former second baseman for the Twins and the A's, who gave me advice and encouragement all the way from Arizona. He told me I should come out to a training camp sometime, though I wasn't sure that would work with my priorities in school. But it was something to think about. My performance did improve noticeably - both on offense and defense. I had a steady place in the roster as second baseman. Uncle Mike was particularly proud I was following in his footsteps that way.

So baseball took up even more of my time, if that was possible, and my classes got harder. I still had a 3.2 GPA, but I had time for little else besides school and athletics. The fact that Holt spent most of his time with Scott probably meant I had less distractions at home, too.

I had narrowed in on my major: Commerce (business) with an economics minor. I enjoyed the econ classes but they were harder, whereas I found the business classes tended to reward effort and time. Plus, I worked pretty well in groups, agreeable enough to work well with others yet able to assert myself when needed.

Meanwhile, with football over, Holt was having a major case of senioritis. I barely saw my roommate the rest of that spring semester, since he was spending a lot of his free time and nights at Scott's place. I had a pretty crazy schedule myself between classes, workouts, practice, and games.

So it was almost a surprise to find Charlie in the kitchen one early Tuesday morning as I got ready for my early morning class. I'd walked down the hall and to the kitchen in just my briefs, expecting to have the place quiet as usual. Instead, Holt was standing at the counter, pouring himself a bowl of cereal as he looked up at me. He was shirtless and wore just a pair of his football shorts. Sometimes I had to marvel at just how big a guy my friend was. Not all muscle, but definitely a solid, beefy football dude. His brown wispy hair was a mess of bedhead and he looked like he was not up by choice. He must have gotten in late last night after I passed out.

"Hey, McGrath," he greeted me in his groggy voice between bites of his cereal, bowl in hand as he leaned his lumbering body up against the counter.

"Morning, Holt," I said, hearing my own groggy voice as I walked around him to the cupboard and reached for a mug. "You make enough for me?" I asked, gesturing to the coffee maker.

Charlie nodded, his mouth half-full. "Have at it."

I had to laugh at how much Holt was not a morning person. "You're up early," I observed as I pulled the half-and-half out of the fridge.

"Scott wants me to cover the morning shift at the store," he explained, smiling as he chewed.

I fixed my coffee and leaned back against the counter across from him. "How is it dating the boss?" I asked, gently teasing him.

"A little weird," Holt admitted. "But it works. Scott's coming up with a new role for me, spending more time at his gym."

Holt was studying Kinesiology and while not the greatest of students, he seemed to have found the perfect job for his interests.

"Sounds like things are getting serious with you two," I observed, smirking at him as I took a slow sip of my hot coffee. I figured that not seeing Holt around the place as much was a good sign.

"I don't know what the hell I'm doing, McGrath," Charlie nervously laughed, "but I haven't messed things up yet." He set his bowl down next to him. "Scott wants me to move in with him after graduation," he added.

I got the distinct feeling I was the first person Holt had told. He had an uncharacteristically serious look on his face.

"Yeah? That's awesome buddy!" I exclaimed as I set down my mug and reached over to grip his shoulder the way us athletes do. Then realizing again that maybe Holt wasn't as much the romantic type, I asked, "Is that what you want?"

He quickly nodded. "Oh yeah, I do," he said. "Honestly, McGrath, I haven't been this happy in, like, forever."

"I'm happy for you, Holt," I said with brotherly sincerity as I held fast to his shoulder, moving over to lean up against the counter next to him.

"Thanks," he said, bumping his shoulder with mine. "You probably think I'm an idiot. Always lecturing you about stuff, when I don't know what the hell I'm doing." Maybe he was being overly modest, but it was interesting to see Charlie's change of approach when it came to men.

"You know what you're doing. You bagged a great guy," I said.

“I did,” Holt said, a goofy smile returning to his face.

* * * *

In the weeks that followed, I talked to Dad on the phone each Saturday, but it was the normal father-son conversations, nothing more.

It was during our Spring Recess in early March when Dad had the opportunity to come up to Charlottesville to watch a couple of our games. His plan was to wrap up work early on Friday and come see our late afternoon game against St. Joseph's. Dad said he would stay over and watch Saturday's morning game as well before heading back to Norfolk. It had been a full year since our Mexico trip, and the fact that it was almost a strange anniversary between us was in the back of my mind. And it had been a month since Dad and I had sex.

But as Dad relayed his visit plans over the phone, I didn't get any inkling from his tone or his words that he had fooling around on his mind. He really just sounded like he wanted to watch me play like the supportive father he was.

That Friday, Dad showed up, as promised, taking his seat in the stands right as our game was about to start. Even from the outfield I could make out his large frame sitting a few rows behind the dugout, next to another parent, both hunched in their winter coats. Between plays I tipped my cap a little as I looked in his direction, kind of a tradition I had whenever he came to watch me play.

While our lopsided victory over a weaker team like St. Joseph's wasn't a big shock, I'd had a great game offensively and defensively and had managed to hit a homerun. My swing was back, and it always felt great hearing the aluminum bat reverberate on contact.

After the game, I opted out of hanging out with my buddies on the team, telling them my dad was in town for the weekend. I trotted out of the locker room in my casual clothes with my athletic duffle around my shoulder, and found where Dad was waiting for me near the Davenport Field entrance. It was getting dark outside already.

"Great game, Jim," Dad greeted me as he embraced me in a quick hug. His clothing and body felt cool, even in his Navy peacoat and gray scarf. I don't know if it was the fresh and neatly-styled Navy officer haircut or the flushed cheeks, but he looked just a little different then, almost more movie-star handsome. "You work up an appetite?" he asked as he clasped my shoulder in a firm grip.

"I'm pretty hungry," I admitted. "How bout you?"

"Starving," he said with a wink. "Though mostly I want to get out of the cold."

Dad drove us back to his parking lot of his hotel, and we made our way to a burger spot nearby. Maybe I talked baseball too much over dinner, but Dad just smiled and seemed to feed off my enthusiasm.

I wasn't prepared for anything to happen between us, actually, but of course the possibility was on my mind. I tried not to expect sex, since I didn't want to go back to the dynamic in Mexico. Part of me felt confident I was in a different place than then, but a nagging doubt made me worry I wasn't.

So mostly I just enjoyed some normal time with Dad as we talked baseball and Navy stuff in the busy restaurant. As he paid the check, I thought maybe we'd grab a beer after dinner at one of the sports bars, since it wasn't that late. We bundled back up and had just stepped out of the restaurant and into the night air. I pulled the bill of my cap down over my brow and zipped up my coat. It was still winter-cold in early March.

Dad pulled his scarf up around his neck and tucked his hands in the pockets of his heavy peacoat, his wide shoulders shrugging up a little in the process. I looked over at him as we walked down a quieter side street. I took the occasion to once again scan his strong masculine profile - his thick brow, deep set eyes, Roman nose, strong chin, square jaw, thin lips, stubbled cheeks, and graying temples. He looked so fucking handsome.

"So, Slugger... you feel like having a little private time?" he asked with a hint of a smile on his lips.

His offer caught me off guard. While we had talked about the possibility of sex again, I hadn't expected it at that very moment. I laughed nervously in reaction. "Um... yeah, I guess."

He turned toward me as we continued to walk down the block. "You can say no," he reminded me. "But last time you said it would be OK if I asked you for it."

"Oh God yeah, it's OK, Dad," I said, correcting myself. "Sounds amazing actually." I turned to face him more squarely. Even our eye contact gave me a shiver of excitement.

Dad smiled. "Good," was all he said.

My heart was pounding as we walked into his hotel. This feeling would never feel old, I decided - the thrill and naughtiness of sex with my own father. The fact that the hotel staff had no idea why I was accompanying Dad to his room. No one knew. It was just our secret.

"Fuck, it's cold," I said as we finally stepped into his pleasantly warm room. I undid my coat, taking it off to reveal the T-shirt I had on underneath before I rubbed my hands to warm them. Stupidly, I hadn't worn gloves. I also knew that my ears must have been red as well.

Dad's cheeks were flush red from the cold, too, but he turned toward me after taking off his own coat and laying it over a nearby chair. The tight-knit, snug-fitting sweater he wore underneath made his upper body look even more built out, his shoulders and pecs molding the thin wool into round swells.

"I gotta say... I've been thinking about your blowjobs, Slugger," my father said in a low, flirty voice as I looked down and finally noticed the growing over-sized bulge in the front of his jeans. It was wild to see him in sex mode. The directness of his comment excited me but surprised me, too. His voice was getting that quiet, sexual quality I remembered from our times before. During sex, Dad would still be Dad, but he'd also become someone else. A sexual being, lust-driven, and serious in a different way.

I slowly nodded. "I'll suck your dick, Dad," I said. Maybe I was entering sex mode, too, speaking so freely to my father. I anticipated having his dick in my mouth once more, and my cock stirred in my pants as he held his gray eyes on me.

Dad seemed real turned on. I now watched his fingers stroke the bulge in his pants, making the length grow further down one leg of his pants like a fat snake. For all we'd done together, before, this felt more matter-of-fact in its open sexuality. Dad showing off how he was getting erect for me, letting me know I was going to service him. It was like he'd been thinking about this moment for a while. Maybe he had.

"I'd love to feel your mouth on me, son. I'll return the favor, too." It was that voice from Mexico again - low, gravely, almost quiet, but pulsed through with desire, like Dad was holding his lust back.

My father had such an effortless masculinity and assured officer's authority in his posture, but I saw in that moment a Navy swagger too - primal and sexual - as he strutted over to the window. The sheer curtains were drawn, but Dad pulled the darkening curtains all the way, too, just to be sure.

When he turned back, he was already reaching for his fly and undoing his jeans. And I was already crouching down on my knees in the middle of the room. We didn't discuss it, but it was like we both knew this encounter had to be purely sexual. Me on my knees in classic cocksucker position, Dad standing in front of me, about to feed me his paternal, 10-inch, uncut cock.

"Fuck," Dad hissed. He stepped up to me with a lust-heavy look on his handsome face, his large hands undoing the fly the rest of the way and fishing out his dick.

There it was in Dad's fist, emerging out of a lush, dark forest of pubes as he tucked the band of his boxers just under his hefty furry sac. Nothing in my memory of my father's cock could ever prepare me for just how big he was. I could grip it in both hands and it still would not be enough. Each time its size impressed and excited me.

This time, there was the added bonus of watching his still half-hard dong fill out. As I scooted closer, that magnificent prick lengthened and firmed up, rising in uneven jerks to a more upright position. Dad dropped his hands, letting them rest at his sides to display himself as his cock plump and filled, the veins pulsing down the length. The hooded tip gently came closer to my lips, like it knew what it wanted.

I don't know any other way to put it: it's a magical experience watching your father get an erection.

"OK if I take my time with this?" I asked, reaching out to touch the base, where his testicles hung down from the stalk.

Dad's body jerked in reaction to my fingers, which were still a little cold.

"Sorry," I whispered the second my thumb touched the hot flesh and I felt Dad flinch at the cool touch of my skin.

Dad chuckled. "It's OK. Maybe it'll keep me from cumming right off the bat."

I looked up at him and wrapped my long fingers around his now hot and solid shaft. Its thickness fit perfectly in my hand. I began a slow, soft stroke, loving how his skin allowed me to smoothly tug at his steel pipe. I watched the rim of his foreskin roll back and forth over the swollen purple head.

I took a minute to just admire my father's cock in my fist. Even on another man, it would be an incredible tool to hold. Unbelievably long and adorned with thick bulging veins. A beautiful hood with just the right amount of foreskin that covered most of the head. A porn-star cock, whose size I'd increasingly appreciated the more men I had sex with. No one measured up to Dad, not even close.

But there was also the psychological jolt that it was my father's penis in my hand. Erect, powerful. The cock that had made me. I leaned in and looked up at him; the eye contact gave us both an additional jolt of awareness of the forbidden act. Dad watched my smooth cheek brush his thick shaft. Then my lips kissed the base just above my fingers, and my nose nestled into his dark dense pubes.

"Damn," I heard above me. "Been dreaming about this blowjob for weeks."

This wasn't like the first time I sucked him, but there was still some of that same thrill. I moaned against his meat and felt the hardness of his boner against my face.

While I kissed up the smooth long shaft, Dad reached for my cap with one hand. He pulled it off my head and tossed it on the bed, then his fingers were in my hair, brushing it back from my face.

"Oh yes," he hissed. Dad placed his hands on his hips and looked down to watch me lick up the side of his now rockhard cock. It was a commanding posture from a man with a commanding presence - his chest puffing up as his hips jutted out, silently offering his cock to me. I started licking up more inches with each tongue swipe. I wasn't trying to be lewd or slutty, but I enjoyed seeing his eyes on me, watching me make love to his dick.

"Fuck, you're so big, Dad," I gasped when I got to the tip. I licked at the head and ran my tongue along and beneath his foreskin. Dad was leaking some clear precum and I could taste the salty masculine flavor before I opened my mouth and let my lips stretch around my father's prick again.

"Take only as much as you..." he started, but already I was swallowing him up. I held the shaft in one hand and swallowed more than a few inches. I pulled back his hood with my fist and felt the slick cock head nudge the back of my throat. In other circumstances, that sensation would have made me nervous that I was taking on too much, but then my lust was supercharged. I wanted this.

I pulled off just enough to suck in some air and descended again, all the while doing all the mental tricks I knew to keep my gag reflex from kicking in. I willed my esophagus to relax around the invading dick. I wanted this so much, and that may have been just what I needed. I could somehow feel the surprise in Dad's tensing body as I smoothly began to swallow his cock down my snug throat. After all my practice, this was the real deal. The mega cock that I wanted to be able to take right.

And, fuck, I did it. My gullet was relaxing and reshaping around my dad's huge phallus. I'll admit I felt my eyes begin to tear as it felt like that dick just kept coming, that thick long piece burrowing and stretching my throat in a whole new way. My practice with the dildo had helped, but the real thing was somehow easier and harder to handle. My mouth kept going down, not stopping. I didn't even pause, but instead used the action of pulling Dad's hips in toward me to get through the final two inches.

I actually whimpered, gripping his thighs through his jeans. I could feel my own solid dick still trapped in my pants. I was raging hard. Damn, I'd done it. I'd deep throated my father, and felt his heavy warm nuts press against my chin and his wiry brown pubes tickling my nose.

"Unngff... HOLY FUCK, Jimbo!" Dad exclaimed, maybe too loudly. Clearly, he was taken by surprise.

Encouraged, I stayed on him, fully, for several long seconds. With my lips stretched around the thick base, I hummed around his dick. I didn't know for sure what Dad was feeling, but he must have experienced my throat involuntarily clench and unclench around his cock.

Dad's hands gripped my hair, softly, but he didn't try to thrust or steer my head. He just held on, like he was afraid it would all end if he let go. His abs crunched as I felt his knees buckle. I wiggled my tongue on the underside of the base, finally sucking a part of his cock I never could before.

Dad continued to groan in disbelief. "Fuck yes, Jim... just another second... please... FUCK!"

I forced myself into an almost meditative state to hold steady and calm for another moment. Then I slowly pulled up in one smooth stroke. Dad's body and face quivered as the head of his dick rode the contours and ridges of my throat before finally plopping free.

I took an immediate deep breath - my lips slobbery and my eyes blurry with tears.

Dad grinned down at me, gently wiping the corners of my eyes with his thumbs as I stroked the drenched tip of his cock against my open mouth, my lips kissing the stretched rim of his foreskin before I was back on him. A silent request. A challenge even.

I accepted it, slowly swallowing all ten inches and feeling the heat and sexual excitement all through my body. I was so proud, but mostly I was thrilled that Dad was audibly turned on by my deep blowjob. He was no longer speaking, at least not in words, but he let out low sounds somewhere between grunts and sighs and his fingers gingerly massaged the back of my blond head as he looked down on me.

I tried looking up into his eyes while I swallowed him, but the angle wasn't right and I started to choke. So I focused. I fought my reflexes down as I guided Dad's hips forward for one more descent down to his base. Once again I bottomed out, more easily than the first go even, though this time I didn't dare move my tongue for fear of gagging.

I held him there for a second before coming up for air, more quickly this time as Dad's cock almost tumbled out of my throat with a sloppy wet sound. Saliva streamed off my bottom lip as I took deep drags of air into my lungs. My throat now felt raw, too, but it was worth it.

Dad stood with an expectant though not impatient stance. I don't know that I'd seen him so fully erect before - the heavy dong standing up straight as a steel tower. His foreskin retracted to show off the purple-pink head beneath, and spit thicker with my throat mucus hung off the tip. I could barely take my eyes from his dick, but I had to see his facial expression.

As my eyes swept up toward his face, I saw the determined look of lust break into a playful grin. "That was incredible, Jim," Dad said, his normal voice returning. "Where'd you...?" he started asking but stopped himself. He spread his legs just a little more, which lowered his crotch level. His fingers gently ran through my hair once more, not quite pulling my head back to his crotch. He wasn't going to rush or pressure me, but it was clear he wanted me to suck him more.

I was nervous I couldn't deep throat him any more without gagging. I'd pressed my luck so far.

So I decided to focus instead on giving Dad the full Bulldozer Special. I pulled the wet, crowbar-hard dick toward my lips once more.

I remembered Holt's advice about uncut cocks, about how sensitive they could be. Dad said as much in Mexico, but never really elaborated his preference for how he wanted it handled. I'd always peeled back Dad's skin before. But this time, I decided to keep him semi-hooded. I gave Dad a few strokes, rolling his velvety skin back and forth and watching the hood expand and envelop the head. I looked back up at him as I parted my lips and welcomed Dad back into my mouth.

I sealed my lips around his tool and started bobbing up and down on him, several inches at a go. Dad gave me a sexual look and nodded.

"That's it, son," he urged. The word "son" hung in the stillness of the room. An open acknowledgment of our incestuous act. I moaned in response, and Dad knew what I was thinking. How I loved him talking this way. His smile became even more of a leer. "Suck your father's cock."

Oh fuck, that put me into overdrive. I almost dove right onto that massive prick, all the way down, but stopped myself. Instead I channeled my excitement into my technique. With my hand still wrapped around the base I began a slow bob, hungrily sucking on a little under half of his rod. Applying Holt's tricks, I stuck my tongue out against the underside of Dad's cock. Then I pulled it back as I pulled off his dick, until just the head was left in my mouth. I did it again and noticed the distinct rhythmic suction it created. Dad's groans told me immediately he was feeling the extra sensation. "God, son... just like that... Fuck, Slugger."

I slowed my suck-job until I had just the semi-hooded head in my mouth. I paused a minute, letting him cool off before building back up again.

"You had me real close, son," Dad said, his voice now almost cracking with desire. His breath slowed as he was now caressing my head, my hair all but mussed as he brushed my bangs back.

I pulled off to answer him. "God, Dad. I want to get you off." I leaned in and gave that thick prick a soft kiss. "So bad," I added, barely removing my lips from his penis.

When I looked up into his face, I saw a hesitation there. Like he wasn't sure how far to take this. But his voice got real low and quiet. "My dick made you, Jim."

It was Mexico all over again. Maybe not all the emotional baggage - hopefully not that - but the intense openness about our incest was back. "It did, Dad. Fuck..." I growled and stuffed it back into my mouth.

This time I went in for the kill. Full-on Bulldozer suck job.

Dad moaned as he felt the head of his cock slip back into my mouth. I kept sucking, taking in a little under half before distinctly feeling where the flared head of his cock kissed the back of my throat. I opened my throat once more and sucked Dad back into my gullet, letting the fat head slide just inside my throat. But instead of going down, I tightened my esophagus and pulled back off - the ridged head clearing the tight ring before sliding back into my throat once more. Dad's eyes bulged.

“Son...” he interjected before his voice broke into a soft grunt.

Back and forth, I fucked Dad with my throat, letting the flared head ride that snug ring as I gripped the rest of his shaft in my rocking fist. Just enough suction, more than enough tongue work, and a few inches worth of steady bobbing. I didn't want to hold back any more or tease my father. I wanted to get him off.

Dad's grip grew instantly tight on my head, and I got fed several hot spurts of my dad's semen, right into my throat. I groaned gratefully then pulled Dad's spewing tool just outside my throat, enough to let his ejaculation hit the bitter-sensor taste buds in the back of my mouth. It was glorious. I kept milking him with my suckling mouth, making sure to maximize his orgasm.

Finally, his talon-like grip released my scalp and he pulled back. His now rubbery cock fell from my lips, happy and heavy. "Jesus, Jim," he gasped as he wiped the sweat from his forehead, messing his Navy hair just a bit.

I looked up to see him catching his breath, his chest heaving beneath his sweater, a look of pure sexual contentment on his normally stoically handsome face. Out of his jeans, his semi-hooded dong still stuck out long and wide, covered in the shiny wetness of my spit and whatever cum I didn't manage to suck down. It was retreating some, his foreskin sliding back over the head, but he was still turgid and big.

"Give me a sec, OK, Slugger?" he asked, staggering just a bit as he took a small step back. "That was just... wow." A hint of a smile now showed on his overwhelmed expression.

I nodded and slowly stood up, wiping my mouth off with the back of hand. My erection had flagged a little during the deepthroating, but the final part of the blow job had turned me on and left me hard as nails. I started undoing my jeans, but didn't pull my dick out just yet.

As I watched Dad regain his composure, I wasn't sure what was on his mind. I wasn't going to pressure Dad if he wanted a break or wasn't in the mood to reciprocate. Hell, I knew I could have one hell of a JO session just reliving that blowjob.

"All right," my father finally said, hands back on his waist, his half-hard cock still hanging out of his open jeans . "My skills are definitely not as good as yours. But I'll see what I can do."

And like that, our positions were reversed. Dad got onto his knees as I pulled my cock out of my jeans and stepped up to him. My dick swung out like a bat. I was unbelievably hard. I had leaked a mess into my boxer briefs and I was now leaking a clear stream onto the carpeted floor. My dick twitched in excitement. I'd been turned on like hell blowing him, but now I fed off the excitement of seeing this perfect man ready to service me.

Dad looked up at me with a playful smile and reached up to grab the waist of my jeans. He tugged them down along with my boxer briefs. I now stood before him, my midsection bared and my hardon pulsing.

Dad didn't have a special technique. His right hand gripped my base, admiring the heft and weight, and the almost inhuman girth I had. He looked up at me, his grey eyes holding mine as he kissed the cut, dripping tip of my cock. His tongue licked the plump pink head before parting his lips and taking me into his warm, wet mouth. I could tell he struggled with my girth, groaning as he worked more between his lips. But he soon had a steady bob of his mouth up and down a few inches of my dick.

I looked down, as my legs began to shake. I moved my hands to his tense and corded neck, my fingers running through the short hair on the side and back of his head, careful not to mess with his clean Navy cut - his side-parted dark hair with flecks of gray showing through.

Dad deepened his suction, and suddenly I felt his other hand firmly grip my round and muscled bare ass cheek with a light slap. His strong and calloused fingers dug into my round flesh as I stared down at his handsome features.

I felt the strong, soft tongue, my father's tongue, along my fat shaft, and the taboo idea fired an intense pleasure in my nuts. I was gonna cum, already.

"Dad," I grunted in a warning. I tried not to grip his neck too hard as my knees buckled.

He knew what I was signaling and moaned softly around my dick, continuing to work me to get me off. My fingers touching and gently running through his hair like a comb, lightly, just wanting that contact. In response, his fingers clenched and kneaded my bare ass muscle, and the sheer contact a reminder Dad had fucked me before. That idea had me grunting and firing off into his mouth.

It's hard to compare orgasms. When you're in the middle of one, it can feel like the best one ever. Until the next time. But it's a special thing to cum in your father's mouth. Indescribably special. To feel him accept your seed and swallow it. To feel that powerful bond.

As my moans died down, I could still feel jerking sensations along my perineum as Dad slowed his suck job and slowly let me pull out. A few dribbles of sperm flowed out of my slit and rolled down my thick stalk. Dad was visibly amused as he watched the aftershocks of my orgasm and wiped off the spit from his lips.

"You seemed pretty primed up, son," he said in a playful voice, giving my ass a firm pat. Already he was standing up and tucking his soft genitals back into his pants.

I took another look at my father's dick before he put it away. I guess in the back of my mind, I wondered if it would be my last chance to experience it. I was pulling my boxer briefs back over my half-turgid dick and arranging it all before pulling my jeans back over the bulge. Some slight awkwardness was now coming on as I wondered about how Dad and I would transition back to our normal selves after getting into the sex.

"Yeah, I was," I replied to my father. "That was great." It was understatement, but I decided to embrace the ground rules I’d set up with Dad. Just sex, nothing more.

Dad gave me a wink and patted me on the shoulder. He was noticeably relaxed and matter-of-fact, which helped put me at ease. “Sure was, Slugger. I’m glad you were open to this."

"Definitely," I smiled. I was now feeling the post-cum endorphins, but also a relief that I'd just had another incestuous experience with my father and there was seemingly no downside. It felt like we were getting away with something we shouldn't be.

Dad walked over the chair that held his coat. "What do you say we grab a beer?” he asked.

"Sounds perfect," I said.

We put our coats back on and went back out into the night air to find a pub. We didn't talk about the sex, but we didn't need to. I was in a good mood from it, and Dad was too. That was enough for me, and the other messy emotional complications would work themselves out.