The Hard Part

The last hour was always the hard part. Dad and I had gone through stages in this little affair we had going on. First was the naughty phase, the "I can't believe I'm having sex with my dad/son" phase. Second was the emotional fallout, as Dad felt guilt for cheating on Mom, and I felt bad for the whole thing. That lasted about a year, but I'd gone off to USC on a water polo scholarship and college life and the distance from home made me realize I missed Dad. A lot.

He came to LA on business about every month, and he took advantage of it by booking a hotel room for an extra night. Just me-and-Dad time, and it was great. It called it our honeymoon phase and as messed up at it was, I was A-OK with the full implications of incest with my father. Expense account dinner at a nice restaurant, sex a couple of times in the evening, and just some quality father-son time hanging out together. He was my lover but he was Dad, too, and the complications of that worked for me.

I think they worked for Dad, too. In the heat of passion, my old man even became more open about talking about his marriage and my jealousy of Mom. We'd sometimes process that emotion in the afterglow, after we came, but it was getting to the point where Dad didn't need to check in with me constantly. We were good.

But holy hell, the hour before checkout always gutted me. I knew I'd see Dad in a month. And I knew I needed to focus on water polo and school and a normal college social life. If Dad lived in LA, I'd have a hard time with that, I worried. But the idea of our separation would give me a few hours of deep sadness and the dread would start to creep in earlier. I admitted this to Dad on his last visit, and while he was stoic as ever I could read in his eyes that he felt the same way.

I knew he was going to make our morning together count. The previous evening had been romantic, a nice dinner, drinks at the hotel bar as our fingers surreptitiously played with the other's out of view, a heart-to-heart talk about his retirement plans and my career goals. He was too tired for intense sex but we swapped blowjobs and got each other off before snuggling up to one another and chatting a little before it was time for bed.

That's why I didn't even mind the 6AM alarm clock. Dad was ensuring we had plenty of time before he had to head to LAX. I roused and saw my father's naked form get up and check his phone. Confirming his flight, maybe, or checking work emails, I don't know. Dad's shorter than me, but he'd been a water polo athlete himself and still had an amazing body. Knotted muscle all over, dusted with dark blond fur. I felt my morning wood twitch beneath the covers.

He looked over at me with an apologetic grin. "I'll order room service?" he said. The previous time we'd gone out for a quick breakfast, but this plan sounded better.

"Yeah," I croaked, sitting up into bed, and letting the sheet slide down my smooth, built torso. Part of me hoped Dad would get back into bed with me, for a quickie at least.

Instead, after Dad put in the breakfast order, he picked up his wallet and pulled out some bills, setting them down on the hotel dresser. "Here's the tip for the room service," he instructed. "I'm gonna hop in the shower."

I'm not sure if Dad thought I'd forget to tip or if he just wanted to take care of things, like he always did. But I told him sure and watched him strut into the bathroom, the thick round buns flexing beautifully with each step.

I could tell from the time he was taking that my father was cleaning himself out. My dick throbbed at the idea and anticipation and now I really didn't mind the early wake up time. A knock came and I slipped on some loose shorts to hide my erection the best I could. I opened the door and let the server bring in the food, handing him the tip as he politely made his way back out.

Dad finally came out, showered and a towel around his waist. We had our coffee and ate. I used to not be a breakfast guy, but my workouts and practice meant I'd gotten in the habit of a protein-rich meal early in the day.

"How long we got?" I asked with a grin as we finished and had the last sips of coffee.

"An hour," Dad said. "Gonna make it count, son?"

I nodded. I leaned back in my chair and slowly slid off my shorts. My dick was getting hard again fast and Dad relished watching me throw hard before his eyes.

"Fuck," he hissed. "I love your cock, son."

"Pretty much like yours," I replied. It was, too. We weren't identical but were matched in size and shape. I had the Williams cock for sure.

"A little bigger," Dad growled softly as he got up out of his chair and crouched down before me. His hands ran up and down my smooth legs as he kept his gaze on my dick.

"Gonna suck me, Dad?" I asked with an excited croak. That's the thing about incest: talking about it out loud never loses its power.

"For starters," he hissed, then started kissing his way up my thighs.

The blowjob was foreplay this time but that didn't make it any less intense. When Dad finally pulled off, teasing my saliva-slick rod with his thumb and forefinger, I was crazy hard and crazy excited. "Wanna fuck me, son?"

"Oh yeah," I growled, pulling up into a hot kiss. We felt each other's bodies, like this would be the last time we'd be able to. Then we got up and went to the bed.

Normally, Dad was the one who kept track of time in a situation like this. I'm sure he was this time, too, only I kept a mental clock as we made out naked on the bed. Then again, as I lifted his legs and began to tongue his soft warm pucker. Dad loved getting eaten out and I'd grown from rimming him as perfunctory foreplay to finding it one of my favorite parts of sex. It was lewd and intimate at the same time. I could have gone on but I had that countdown in my head. Factoring in time to clean up and get ready to leave, that left ten minutes tops for a fuck. I pulled up and met Dad in a kiss.

"Ready, Dad?" I hissed.

"Yeah, son."

I leaned over and pumped out some lube. I fingered his hole before applying some leftover slickness to my dick and his. Then I was ready. The entry was slow but easy, easier than the last time.

"Fuck," I grunted as I bottomed out. "I missed this," I said.

"Missed it, too, Matt." Dad was struggling to accommodate my size but his dick was hard and he was gently stroking it.

So I fucked him. Deep, slow pumps at first, wordless as we gazed into each other's eyes, feeding off the intensity. Wanting to make the last of our final hour before he left.

My hips worked up speed and Dad was now ready for the intensity. I started really getting into it, using my full body, from legs to hips to core as my whole body undulated in faster and faster rhythm, working my dick back and forth to maximize the feelings that were growing there.

Dad didn't just lie there passively. He contracted his core, too, pushing back subtly against my thrusts, letting me know he wanted it. His hands explored my heaving body, silently coaxing me to give it up. To cum inside him.

Dad came first, actually, entering that full-body orgasm aided by his prostate. Heavy shots of fatherly seed coated his furry chest.

The very sight had me cumming inside him, hard. I rode the orgasm with a few more thursts before holding my dick deep inside him for the remaining spurts. This is how sex should be, I decided. Perfect chemistry, emotional intensity, incredible orgasms.

I dismounted and lay in the afterglow, a little drained from the physicality of our sex. Dad kept surprising me, for sure, in his bottoming ability. Fucking hadn't come that easily to us when we first started. Only in the last year had we found a groove in our respective positions. I looked over at he had a big goofy grin on his face.

"Well, that was fun," he laughed. I felt at moments like that I got an insight into my father. I knew the kind of man Mom saw on a regular basis. A playful, almost kid like person behind the stoic, responsible Cliff Williams.

"Hell yeah it was," I said, nudging his hip with my hand.

Dad looked over at the clock and turned back with a wistful look. He was calculating our remaining time. "I'll shower first if you wanna rest for a second."

I nodded. I even dozed a little as he cleaned off and got dressed. I wasn't used to getting up so early.

Dad nudged me. "Your turn, sleepyhead." He was wearing his gray briefs and a snug, crisp white T-shirt.

I rolled over and stood up. I knew Dad was scoping out my backside and I felt a real pride. Even if I was the one who did the fucking, I knew my squats and deadlifts had paid dividends lately, and I knew I had amazing, strong ass.

I didn't dilly dally in the shower, but I wanted to wash the lube off my cock. My dick plumped up a little as I soaped it and mentally relived the sex Dad and I just had. I'd have to keep that memory for the next month.

I stepped back into the room, naked. There was Dad, sitting on the window sill, still in his briefs and T. He looked like a goddamn underwear model at that point. Perfect, thick daddy muscle filling out the cotton in perfect swells. I wondered for a second why Dad hadn't gotten fully dressed yet.

He had a sly look to his face as he set down his phone. "I just changed my flight... gives us a few more hours."

"For real?" I asked.

"For real, Matt," he grinned. "Hope you don't mind."

"Fuck no I don't mind," I chuckled, stepping up to him and reaching down to hold him around his lower back as his hands circled up my lats.

We kissed, softly, more romantically than before. I felt my dick rise up rigid and I knew Dad could feel it poke his stomach.

Indeed when we pulled back he gestured down toward my erection. "I figured you'd have another round in you, son."

My hands now traveled up to start massaging his shoulders affectionately. God, Dad was so fucking handsome. I nodded to confirm that indeed I'd be ready for a second bout of sex. Then, I spoke.

"I love you, Dad," I said. I'd said this to him before, many times. But it was usually at the end of a phone call or something. Not when were embracing like this.

Dad's hands traced around to feel up my chest and abs. "I love you, too, Matt. So much, buddy."

I paused. "I mean, like love you, love you."

Dad's open, sincere expression almost took my breath away. "I didn't think I could feel head over heals love at 49... with my own son."

I almost asked him where Mom fit in with that. But that would wait. Till next visit. Or the one after that. For now, I met him in the softest kiss I could give him. And the strong man melted into it, leaning in my body and holding on to my waist. I felt the heat emanate from him and smelled his cologne. We were in that zone where we wanted sex, again, but didn't need to rush it.

I pulled back and ran my hands along his shoulders and along his upper arms. Dad was a stud, and he was mine for the next three hours. "So... I'm always the one fucking you..." I said.

Dad was surprised by my words. I made no bones about loving being inside him. What had become a special treat for me was now a regular expectation of our trysts. "You wanting to try it the other way?" he asked.

I shrugged. "At some point," I said. "At least to feel what that experience is like... but I kinda like the idea of being your top dog, you know?"

I thought Dad would be pissed off by my comment but he smiled. "I like it, too, Matt."

"Yeah?" I growled. Just hearing my father liked me fucking him was a major turn on. I mean, I thought he liked it, but sometimes I worried he was just accommodating my desires.

Dad playfully gripped my hardon. Slowly stroking it from base to tip, he almost whispered. "There's the physical part of the act," he explained. "And that's incredible. But the psychological part is even more intense, if that's possible." His grip grew more focused on stroking me now, like he was appreciating how hard I was, so quickly after our earlier sex. "It's such a mindfuck to have your own son's cock inside you, railing you."

It's hard to convey how wild it was to hear these words from my very normal, very suburban father. My heart pounded and my dick surged in Dad's grip. With a grin I lowered my hands and took a second to feel up that chest muscle beneath his shirt... the firm abs... then I went lower to hook my fingers in his briefs.

Dad looked up with horny anticipation. "You're such a beautiful stud, son." Then as my fingers lifted the elastic up over my father's erection and slid down the cotton, he added, "my top dog."

"Fuck, Dad!" I growled, overcome with lust. I pulled off the underwear completely, taking my time to savor the hard quad muscle and the soft daddy fur. "You just saying that?" I asked.

Dad shook his head. "I know it turns you on. But I'm not just humoring you.... I need you back in me, son..."

I gave a soft grunt as we met for another tongue-heavy kiss. Dad's were wrapping around me in a surprisingly needy gesture. I lined up my prick and felt the tacky feel of the leftover lube that Dad had not completely washed off. My father's pucker now had a bit of give to it, and my slick dick head nudge into a hold position in his folds as we made out. I wondered if Dad liked taking my dick because it was a change from his sex with Mom. Or maybe it reminded him of his experiments with men back in college. I didn't know the full story of those, and Dad hesitated to go into detail.

My hips worked back and forth ever so slightly, nudging a few millimeters of prick into him at a time, working that half-dry hole back open. Dad moaned into my mouth as I did, then fuck, I breached the entrance again. Pushing into my father's oven-hot rectum.

My previous load was still there, a full one, too, so as I thrust back and forth, the semen lubricated the way more.

I pulled off the kiss to look Dad in the eye and feed off the intensity of the fuck.

"Fuck me, Matt," Dad hissed urgently. "Fuck your father."

"God, Cliff," I said to him. I'd never called my dad by his first name in my life, but the idea came to me and the name came out before I could second guess it.

Dad's eyes went wide and his dick twitched. "Hell yeah... get up in there, son..."

I shifted forward, angling his back against the hotel room window and using the angle to give deeper, more powerful strokes. "Gonna fuck you deep, Cliff."

Dad looked up at me in lust and a little awe. Like he was surprised by how possessed I could get in the saddle. "Do it. Do it, Matt."

My hips were going wilder now. I didn't want to rush this, so I bit my lip and paused. I paused my fucking and reached down to feel up Dad's body. "I don't wanna wear you out, Dad...." I said with concern.

He seemed to sense what I was feeling. "Your call, buddy. If I get back to Denver a little sore, I'll deal with it."

He'd barely said those words and I weighed how long to hold off cumming. I decided to go for it. I thrust into Dad, hard. He grunted at the hard shove but bit his lip and nodded. Urging me. I gave him an intense pounding for the next minute. Not super fast but with a lot of power. Trying to be his Top Dog.

The look on his face, stoic, fatherly, eager for my cum, made me nut hard.

"Attaboy!" Dad exclaimed excitedly, his fingers running up and down my sweaty muscle as I orgasmed. The touch to my body just made the cock pleasure that much more intense.

I took a half second to recover and slowly pulled out. Dad was gonna carry an extra heavy dose of my seed up inside him when he went back to Denver.

Wiping the sweat from my brow, I crouched down and took my father's dick into my mouth. I'm not an expert at giving head, but I get real into sucking my dad's cock and Dad seemed to love everything I did for him orally. I bobbed up and down faster, feeding off the fuck I'd just had and Dad's rising excitement. Finally, as he approached orgasm, I pulled off and growled, "Do it, Cliff. Come in your boyfriend's mouth." And like that my mouth was back on him, milking out the cum that had made me nearly 20 years ago. I softly, slowly nursed Dad's pulsing dick as his fingers ran through my hair.

"That was perfect buddy.... love you so much."