Chapter 1: The Hunt
The apartment on 4th Street was the first place Rick had rented after the marriage ended. It was a shoebox—quiet, cheap, but entirely his—which was fine for three months of solo living. It was Father’s Day weekend, and for the first time since the split, Luke was spending the whole thing here.
Luke had been half-aware of Rick ghosting through the living room while he slept. He was sprawled out on the pull-out couch under nothing but a thin sheet, wearing only a loose tank top and boxers. His morning erection was clearly outlined against the thin fabric. By the time he actually sat up to shake off the grogginess, Rick was long gone to an early shift at the job site.
Still half-asleep, Luke reached for his phone, his pulse skipping when he saw the screen: critical, four percent.
He frantically rooted through the backpack he’d hauled over for the weekend. He shoved aside a balled-up t-shirt, a pair of damp swim trunks, a half-empty water bottle, and a crumpled hoodie, looking for his charger. There was nothing at the bottom but a pair of swim goggles, a stick of gum, and a protein bar he’d forgotten about.
He realized with a sinking heart that he’d left the charger at his mom’s place.
He checked the living room, tossing cushions and moving stacks of mail that weren’t his. He scoured the kitchen counter and the junk drawer. Nothing.
“Fuck it.”
He shuffled to the small bathroom, leaving the door open. The loose tank top hung off his athletic frame as he pulled down the front of his boxers to pee, the aim made more difficult by his stubborn morning wood.
Turning to wash his hands, he caught his reflection in the mirror above the sink. In the few weeks since graduation, his summer lifeguard job had done its work: his skin was toasted golden and his hair had bleached in the sun, his eyes looking startlingly pale against his tan.
His gaze dropped for a second to the loose tank top he was wearing—one he’d swiped from Rick’s dresser a while back. It still hung a little too big on his frame. He hooked an arm up, flexing his bicep and watching it peak sharply under his skin.
He leaned in, gave the muscle a quick, exaggerated kiss, then dropped his voice into a deeper, mock-serious tone.
“Look at that dope muscle,” he muttered, then immediately broke into a laugh and shook his head at himself.
Once he hit eighteen he’d started putting on real muscle—more full in the chest, and bigger shoulders. Swim team had helped with that. He looked more like a man and less like a boy now. Still… he knew he had a way to go before he was built like his dad. The tank top was proof enough of that.
He stared at the stranger in the glass for a second, then shifted his gaze. In the angle of the mirror, the hallway was framed clearly behind him. His eyes drifted down to the reflection of Rick’s bedroom door.
It was cracked open a few inches, just like always. Rick never fully closed it unless he was changing.
Luke had only been in there once, when Rick first moved in and gave him the “grand tour” of the tiny apartment, and even then, he’d felt like he was crossing an invisible line into the private life of his newly divorced father.
He stood in the hallway for a second, chewing the inside of his cheek.
Fuck. He needed a charger, and Rick wouldn’t be home for hours.
He pushed the door open with his foot.
The room was stark—bare walls, no art, nothing to mark it as Rick’s—in a way that made Luke’s own messiness feel loud. The bed was neatly made; work boots were lined up by the closet; a small stack of folded laundry sat on the dresser. Luke moved to it—sliding the clean jeans and shirts aside, shuffling through a couple of loose coins and a lonely stack of mail. Nothing.
He turned and his gaze landed on the bedside table.
The drawer was slightly ajar, as if it hadn’t been pushed all the way shut. Luke walked over, dropped to the edge of the bed and pulled it open the rest of the way.
He expected tangled charging cables. Maybe some old receipts or a bottle of ibuprofen.
Instead, his eyes landed on a clear, hard-plastic tube lying on its side, and next to it, a squeeze bottle of clear liquid. He paused, brow furrowing. He pulled the plastic tube out, rotating it in his hand, trying to figure out what it was. A specialized water bottle? It was heavy, and the plastic was thick, with a strange, molded texture visible on the inside.
He flipped it over to get a better look at the opening
The end was a soft silicone entrance, with a tight, realistic slit. Even through the clear plastic he could see the inner sleeve was textured with soft ridges and folds. When he gave it an experimental squeeze, the material had a warm, yielding give that left no doubt what it was.
The blood drained from his face and then rushed right back, hotter than before.
“Holy shit,” he breathed, the words dying in the empty room.
He was holding a Fleshlight.
He sat there staring at it for a second, heart suddenly beating faster. It wasn’t just a Fleshlight. It was Dad’s Fleshlight. His stoic, serious, post-divorce dad had a fucking Fleshlight.
Luke turned it over in his hands, feeling the weight of it. A slow, hot curl of something dangerous moved through his stomach.
He pictured Rick coming home from work, sitting right where Luke was sitting now, and fucking this thing until he came. Maybe even when Luke was there. Quiet. Probably trying not to make a sound because his son was in the next room.
Luke’s cock stood hard in his boxers.
This was wrong. This was his dad’s toy. And instead of putting it back like a normal person, Luke was sitting on Rick’s bed with it in his lap, thumb rubbing slow circles over the soft silicone entrance like he was testing the resistance.
He glanced at the door. Still closed. Still quiet.
He looked back into the drawer. The small squeeze bottle was lube—some kind of cheap, drugstore brand. He reached in and grabbed it. The plastic was cool and slightly sticky against his fingers. When he tipped it, little air bubbles shifted slowly.
Luke let out a shaky breath, laughing under his breath.
“Fuck, Dad,” he whispered. “You’ve been using this thing while I’m right down the hall. You dirty dog.”
Chapter 2: Caught
A normal person would’ve put it back. Would’ve shut the drawer, walked out, and tried to never think about it again.
But Luke stayed right where he was, sitting on Rick’s bed with the Fleshlight in his palm. His thumb moved in slow, rhythmic circles over the soft silicone entrance, testing the give. The idea of pushing into the same tight sleeve his dad fucked made him almost dizzy.
He glanced at the door. Still closed. Still quiet.
Just check it out. Just to see. Rick wouldn’t be home for hours. He could put it back exactly the way he found it. No one would ever know.
“Fuck it,” he muttered.
He lifted his hips and shoved his boxers down in one motion, catching them on one ankle. His cock sprang up, hard and flushed, the head already shiny with precum. The sharp tan line from his Speedo stood out against the deep gold of his skin. He didn’t bother taking off his tank top—just rucked it up around his chest—and climbed onto Rick’s bed, settling back against the pillows like he belonged there.
The Fleshlight waited beside him on the clean sheets, the hard translucent shell looking strangely out of place.
Luke grabbed the toy and the small squeeze bottle of lube from the drawer and popped the cap. He hesitated for a second, unsure whether to lube the toy or himself.
Both. Both’s good.
He tipped it over the toy’s entrance and poured a thick, messy line of clear gel straight into the hole. He watched the liquid catch the light as it disappeared into that tight, soft interior.
He stuck two fingers in and worked them around clumsily, trying to spread it along the inner walls. It was tighter than he expected. Warmer, too, once his fingers were inside, and it made a slick, slurping sound around his knuckles. His cock gave a hard bounce against his stomach just from hearing it.
He pulled his fingers out, the silicone clicking wetly against his skin and reached for the bottle again. He squeezed a generous stream of lube directly onto the head of his cock and let it run like syrup down the shaft, wrapped his hand around it before it hit his dirty blond pubes. He gave it a quick stroke to coat it thoroughly. The skin was tight, glistening under the light.
He lined the toy up, pressing the head of his cock against the lubed entrance.
It resisted for a second—tight, almost reluctant—and then it opened around him with a wet, sucking schlrrrp that sounded way too loud in the quiet room.
“Oh my god…”
Luke sank into it slowly, stretching the silicone sleeve. Inside the translucent shell, he could see the silhouette of his own flesh working—pushing in, and the slide of his dick against the artificial wall. It was mesmerizing. It was so fucking dirty. He couldn't look away, watching himself move inside his dad’s toy.
When he finally bottomed out, the base of the toy pressed snug against his balls, and he let out a low, shaky groan.
He sat there for a moment, breathing hard. He caught the faint shimmer of his sun-bleached treasure trail against his golden skin, a thin, light line running through the crisp tan line of his hips and disappearing into the mess of his pubes. His gaze traveled over the stark contrast of the clear toy against his own body.
Then he started to move.
Slow at first. Testing. But the wet sounds were immediate—every thrust made a rhythmic, squelch-squelch as the toy clung to him.
Dad fucks this.
He couldn’t stop thinking about it. He couldn’t stop picturing Rick right here, doing the exact same thing. Did he keep the lights off? Did he cum fast, or did he draw it out? Did he talk to himself?
Did he stifle his groans, teeth gritted, forcing himself to stay quiet because his son was sleeping in the next room?
He imagined Rick’s thicker cock stretching the sleeve wide, his heavy balls pressed against the base, his face likely screwed up with pleasure. Not like his flat stare on quiet nights on the couch watching games Luke didn’t care about.
“Dad…” Luke whispered, his voice rough. “You’ve been holding out on me.”
He thrust harder. The toy made a louder, wetter sound around him. He reached down with his free hand, cupping his balls and feeling them tighten with each bump of the toy’s base. His tank top was already sticking to his chest with sweat. The room smelled like lube and skin and under it that faint of Rick’s laundry detergent.
He picked up the pace, hips humping up to meet the toy as his hand brought it down.
The wet squelching mixed with the creak of the bed and Luke’s increasingly audible breathing. He fucked the toy in deep strokes, hips rolling, chasing the tight, clinging grip. Every time he pulled back, the silicone dragged along his shaft like it was trying to keep him inside. Every time he pushed in, the base mashed against his balls and the toy let out another filthy, sucking sound.
He was getting close, faster than he expected.
His head tipped back against the pillows. His free hand slid under his tank top, fingers brushing over his own chest, his nipples. He imagined it was Rick’s hand instead. The thought should have killed his hard-on. Instead, it made him throb harder inside the silicone.
“You want that nut?” he breathed.
He was right on the edge, hips stuttering, breath more shallow, the wet sounds getting louder and more desperate, when—
Click.
The sound of the deadbolt sliding back was the only warning. Then the sound of the apartment door swinging open and shut in one rapid motion.
Luke’s eyes flew open. His hips froze mid-thrust, the toy still stretched tight around the middle of his cock, a thick strand of lube and precum connecting the base to his balls. His heart slammed against his ribs.
No. No no no—
The familiar sound of heavy work boots hitting the floorboards of the living room—one, two strides—and then the bedroom door swung open, the wood hitting the rubber stopper with a soft thud.
Rick stood in the doorway, keys still in his hand in his work shirt and jeans, a sheen of sweat on his neck from the heat outside. His eyes landed on the bed—on Luke—and went wide.
Luke was frozen in place—boxers around one ankle, tank top rucked up, cock still half-buried in his dad’s Fleshlight, the clear shell glistening in the sudden, horrible silence.
Neither of them moved, until Luke shifted his weight slightly. The toy gave one last, wet fart—loud, absurd, and undeniably obscene.
Rick’s keys slipped from his fingers and hit the carpet with a soft metallic sound.
Luke’s face burned. His cock gave a helpless, guilty twitch inside the toy.
Chapter 3: Even-Steven
Luke finally managed to slide the toy free with a too-loud slurp that made him wince, and he dropped it onto the bed. He yanked his tank top down over his aching erection and swung his legs off the side of the mattress, sitting on the very edge of the bed like a condemned man.
“I—I didn’t mean—I wasn’t, I mean, I was looking for a charger!” Luke’s voice was starting to edge into panic. “I checked the living room and the kitchen and it wasn’t there, and the door was open, and I just—I saw the drawer, I swear I didn’t mean to look, I just… I got curious, and it was right there, and I didn’t think you’d be back for hours, so—”
Rick hadn’t moved from the doorway. His hand was still gripping the frame, his knuckles white. His keys lay forgotten on the carpet. His denim work shirt was still clean—no dust from the site—and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. He looked stunned, sure, but he also looked like a man trying to decide which of them was in bigger trouble.
“Why are you home?” Luke asked, the question small and bewildered. “You said you were working the shift.”
Rick stared at the bed, then back up at Luke, his face unreadable. “I called in,” he said, his voice flat. “It’s Father’s Day. I figured… I figured we could grab breakfast. Do something.”
Rick’s eyes flicked from Luke’s flushed face to the shiny Fleshlight between them. He didn’t come any closer to the bed. He just leaned his back against the door frame and sighed—a long, weary exhale that seemed to deflate some of the tension.
“Jesus, Luke,” Rick said, his voice dropping into his familiar, dry cadence. “That’s—that’s private.”
Luke’s hands twisted in the hem of his tank top. “I figured that out pretty quick.”
Rick let out a short, disbelieving breath. He dragged a hand over his face, scrubbing at his stubble. “You’re eighteen. Aren’t you supposed to be… I don’t know, playing video games, or texting your friends, or doing literally anything else except—” He gestured vaguely at the bed, at the toy, at Luke’s bare thighs. “This.”
Luke swallowed hard. "I mean, technically, this is kind of typical eighteen-year-old stuff," he said, his voice straining for a normalcy that was impossible to find. "Just... usually not with your dad's sex toy."
Rick winced, the words hitting home. “You don’t have to call it that.”
Luke offered a weak, pained smile. "Happy Father's Day, I guess. Some guys give their dad a tie or a card.” He glanced at the discarded Fleshlight. “I really dropped the ball this year."
Rick shifted, his stance softening just a fraction. “Look, it’s not… it’s not something I planned on you finding. It’s just… I don’t exactly have a social life, and the dating market for a middle-aged, divorced dad in this town is a fucking desert. So sue me, I bought a piece of plastic.” He gestured at the toy on the bed. “Jesus, this is incredibly awkward.”
Luke shrugged. “Well, I’m the one with my dick hanging out. I’m pretty sure I win for most embarrassed.”
Rick huffed, and then it broke into a dry chuckle. “Fair point.” He looked at the toy, then back to his son, his expression shifting from defensive to something softer.
“And, for the record? Dad. It is pretty good. If you don’t want it anymore—”
“I’m not throwing the damn thing away just because you decided to take it for a test drive.”
The words took Luke by surprise. Rick wasn’t disgusted. He still wanted to keep it. Even after Luke had fucked it. That thought sent a sharp, guilty pulse of heat straight through him.
Luke looked at Rick—really looked. The divorce had changed his dad.
Rick had always been strong, but these last few months had carved him sharper. The work shirt pulled tight across his chest, and Luke could see the dark hair at the open collar. His forearms were thicker and mapped with veins, his waist leaner. There was a five o’clock shadow along his jawline. Even standing there tense, there was a solid, powerful set to his body that made Luke’s stomach flip.
Luke had always known his dad was good-looking—more than the other dads. He’d even felt a certain quiet pride about it sometimes, though he’d never let himself examine why too closely. But he’d never let himself look at him like this until right now—with his cock still wet and the air between them buzzing.
“And it’s kind of cool you’re so horny. At your age and everything.”
Rick let out a short breath. “Not helping.”
The compliment had landed a little off, but Luke didn’t take it back.
“No, seriously, Dad,” he said, voice quieter now but steady. “You’ve been looking really good lately. The gym and everything. I noticed when I got here this weekend. You look… strong. Like you’re really taking care of yourself.”
Rick’s jaw flexed. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking at the floorboards, his face tight with regret. “Well. I’m sorry I caught you like this, Luke.”
“It’s okay,” Luke continued, softer. “I get why you use it. It feels really good.”
For the first time since Rick walked in, Luke didn’t feel like a kid who’d been caught. He felt like two guys talking. His broad shoulders eased as he sat up straighter, and a small tremor ran through his bicep. The tension in his body had changed—no longer curled in on himself, but open.
“Most dads would have lost their shit by now,” Luke said, holding his gaze. “I’m not just saying it to make this okay.”
Luke shifted on the bed, and his tank top rode up just enough for his dick to drop out from under his shirt, landing with a soft, sticking smack against his thigh. He glanced down. A thin smear of lube glistened on his tan skin, catching on the fine, sun-bleached hairs along his inner thigh. He hadn’t meant for it to happen, but he didn’t bother to cover himself.
He swallowed. “If you wanted to… finish what I started, I could just watch. That way we’d be even-steven. You’ve seen me. I’d see you.”
The room felt smaller. Hotter. The smell of lube and sweat hung thick in the air between them. Rick’s hands flexed at his sides. He still hadn’t moved from the doorway. His eyes stayed on Luke—on his face, then lower, then back up again.
“Luke,” he said. That single word vibrated with a warning he didn’t seem able to act on.
But he didn’t say no.
He just stood there, breathing a little harder than before.
Chapter 4: The Most Boneheaded Thing Ever
Rick was still leaning against the door like he didn’t trust his legs, arms loose, eyes locked on Luke like he was trying to solve a problem that had no good answer.
Luke’s cock was rising fast, still tacky from the lube in the toy. The thought of Rick actually taking it, of letting Luke watch him use it, made him throb. He reached down and wrapped a hand around the base of his erection to ground himself. It was a hell of a move, doing it right in front of his dad, but he couldn’t help it.
“Luke,” Rick said, and the way he said his son’s name made something flip low in Luke’s stomach. “I’m your dad.”
“I know,” Luke said. His voice came out lower than he expected—not the tight, high sound of a kid who’d been caught, but the steadier tone he used with the guys in the locker room. “I know who you are. I’m not confused about that.”
He tried a different approach.
He picked up the Fleshlight and turned it so the slick entrance faced Rick—just holding it there, letting his dad get a clear look at how wet and ready it was.
“Just saying,” Luke continued, voice calm, direct. “If you want to use it, it’s already ready for you.”
He held the toy steady, not rushing, not fumbling—the same calm, sure way he carried himself when he was giving instructions at the pool. Swim-captain energy, even here.
Rick’s eyes dropped to the toy. He stared at the wet, open hole pointed straight at him—the same one his son had just fucked. “That’s not how this works.”
Luke didn’t lower it. He reached out and dragged two fingers around the rim, then pushed one fingertip inside before pulling it back out, shiny with lube. The toy made a quiet, wet sound.
“I can put it away,” Luke said. “Clean it up and we can both pretend this never happened.” He held Rick’s gaze. “But I don’t think that’s what you want. And it’s not what I want either.”
Rick’s work pants were doing a poor job of hiding the thick line of his cock pressing against the zipper. He looked tired. Awkward. And, underneath it, undeniably turned on. He stared at the Fleshlight in Luke’s hand for a long moment, the air between them thick enough to choke on.
Then he pushed off the door and walked to the bed slowly, stopping just at the edge.
Rick grunted, his eyes dark and focused. “This is the most bone-headed thing ever.”
He kicked off his boots, shoved his pants and briefs down, and stepped out of them, leaving the clothes in a heap on the floor.
His cock sprang free—thick, flushed dark, and fully hard. It stood heavy and veined, the head shiny with precum. At the base was a thick patch of dark, coarse hair—not like the trimmed or shaved guys Luke was used to seeing in the locker room. It looked older. More real.
Luke had seen his dad in briefs before, but never fully naked like this. Not hard. Not aroused. The sight hit him harder than he expected. He felt his swim-captain composure flicker. He caught it, but not before his stomach dropped and his own cock gave a visible twitch.
“Damn,” he said. A slow, cocky smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he held Rick’s gaze. “We’re about the same length… but you’re thicker. Kind of unfair.”
“You’re something else, kid,” Rick muttered. He looked down at his own arousal, then at Luke’s. The flattery in Luke’s comment was clearly getting to him, but he was still fighting it. His expression stayed tight as he finally sat on the edge of the mattress beside Luke, the frame creaking under his weight.
He bunched his work shirt back, then reached out and took the Fleshlight from Luke’s grip. For a second, their fingers brushed—warm, calloused skin against Luke’s.
Rick stared at the toy in his hand, jaw tight, like he was still trying to talk himself out of it. Then he exhaled through his nose, reached for the lube bottle, and squeezed a fresh, generous dollop into the toy’s opening. His movements were practiced, almost automatic.
“You realize we’re going to have to talk about this later, right?” Rick asked, giving Luke one last paternal look.
“Yeah,” Luke murmured, watching his dad’s hand drift down to guide himself. “Tomorrow.”
The Fleshlight made a thick, wet squelch as Rick slid his cock up into it. The silicone stretched and warped around the thick head, then took the rest of his shaft. Rick let out a low, involuntary sigh as he bottomed out—the kind of sound that slipped out before he could stop it.
Luke held his breath as a shiver ran through his dad, the silhouette of his cock visible through the clear toy, straining the molded interior. At first Rick’s movements were stiff, his jaw tight, clearly thrown by the fact that his son was watching him. He moved carefully, up and down, like he was still trying to figure out how to do this with someone else in the room.
But as the friction took over, the hesitation burned away. He fell into a rhythm—driving it home in deep, full strokes that made the toy squelch, before drawing back just enough to tease the sensitive head against the lips of the sleeve, the suction audible and wet. Then, he’d plunge back in, deep and hard, his hips snapping forward with a guttural grunt.
It made Luke’s own cock hard against his belly, his breath catching in his throat.
He watched, transfixed. “Fuck, Dad.”
Luke shifted closer until their thighs were almost touching. He could see everything—the way Rick’s cock filled the toy, the way the muscles in his bare thighs tightened with his thrusts, the way sweat was already starting to gather at his hairline.
“You’re so fucking good at this,” Luke said, his voice genuine. “Dad… you’re so thick. You’re really filling it out. Does it feel good? Using it after I did?”
Rick took in a sharp breath. He looked at Luke, his eyes glassy. “It feels… real good,” he rasped, the pragmatism finally cracking. His rhythm faltered for a second before he found it again, thrusting harder.
Luke reached out and rested his hand on Rick’s thigh, feeling the muscle under his palm. He just let his hand stay on his dad, warm and steady.
He grinned. “You can go harder, if you want. I wanna see how you do it when no one’s watching.”
Rick’s breathing grew rougher. His free hand gripped the edge of the mattress tight. He turned his head just enough to look at Luke, his lips parted.
Luke gave Rick’s thigh a gentle but firm squeeze—the same kind of steady pressure he’d use when giving instructions at the pool.
“Keep going,” he said, voice sure. “This is the best Father’s Day ever.”
Chapter 5: Hands-On
Rick’s breathing and thrusts into the toy becoming faster. The wet, rhythmic sounds filled the small room—the viscous gushes every time he pushed in, mixed with his low, rough grunts. Sweat had started to darken the front of his work shirt, staining the cotton against his chest, and beads of it clung to his neck. His free hand gripped the edge of the mattress so hard the tendons in his forearm stood out.
Luke hadn’t taken his hand off Rick’s thigh. He could feel the muscle flexing under his palm. His other hand was wrapped tight around his own cock, pumping in slow strokes he fought to keep from speeding up. His body was screaming to tip over the edge, but he wanted to last. He wanted to stay right there, just so he wouldn't miss a second of this.
"You know," Luke murmured, his voice low, "usually I just try to get off as fast as I can. But doing it together? It’s different. It's... fuck, Dad, this is so hot. Watching how much it’s stretching around you."
Rick made a choked sound and thrust harder, his head falling back. “Yeah,” he breathed, his focus narrowing down to the friction.
Luke shifted even closer until his smooth tan thigh was pressed flush against Rick’s pale, hairy one. He slid his hand higher up Rick’s thigh, stopping just short of where the toy was swallowing his cock.
“Can I try for a minute? Just to see what it feels like? You’re so thick.”
Rick’s rhythm slowed to a full stop. He looked down at Luke, jaw tight—he seemed to debate it before giving a small, jerky nod.
Luke gently took the Fleshlight from him. It was incredibly warm where Rick had been holding it. He pulled the toy up slowly. Rick’s cock slid free with a wet, sharp slurp, dark, shiny and pulsing in the dim light, like it wanted to get back to where it belonged.
Luke wrapped his hand around the base of Rick’s cock to steady him, making his father flinch for just a second. He lined the toy up, rubbing the soft, textured opening against the sensitive head of Rick’s cock, slowly swirling it around. He caught the stream of precum leaking from the tip, using the toy to smear it over the glans, watching Rick’s chest heave and hearing a sharp breath escape him.
“You’re leaking a lot. Is that from me watching you?”
Before Rick could answer or even grunt, Luke tipped the toy just slightly, creating a perfect seal against the glans, and then pressed down. A wet gasp echoed as the toy began to take him in.
“There it is,” Luke whispered, mesmerized. “Look at the head going in. Here comes the rest.” He worked it down in one slow, careful motion, swallowing Rick again—Shhhluck. The sound that made Luke’s own cock pulse.
Luke started to slide the toy—not as fast or as rough as Rick had been, but steady and deliberate. He released his grip so the toy could suck Rick in down to the root. He twisted the toy slightly on the upstroke, exactly the way he’d used it on himself earlier, feeling the suction pull at Rick’s length. His other hand returned to Rick’s thigh, his thumb stroking small, soothing circles into the muscle.
“How does that feel?” Luke asked quietly, keeping his strokes steady. “Am I doing it okay?”
Rick let out a low, shaky groan. After a moment, he tipped back further, bracing his weight on his hands behind him. His hips shifted forward, opening up, giving Luke better access. The new angle made the toy slide even deeper on every stroke.
“Yeah… fuck. You’re doing fine, Luke. You’re doing perfect.”
Luke smiled, encouraged. He kept the pace slow and even, focusing on the way Rick’s breathing seemed to hitch every time he twisted his wrist, watching the way his dad’s eyes fluttered closed, getting lost.
“You feel so good in my hand,” Luke said, voice warm. “Really heavy. And the way this thing grips you… no wonder you like it so much.”
For a second, Luke’s gaze flicked down to his own forearm—the muscle shifting under his tan skin as he worked the toy. Something about seeing his own strength moving like that, making his dad’s cock twitch and his breathing go ragged felt so good.
“How does it feel, Dad?” Luke asked, his gaze shifting up to meet Rick’s. “Having someone else do it for you? Does it feel better than doing it yourself?”
“Yeah,” Rick grunted, catching Luke’s eye contact.
Luke could feel how close Rick was—the way his thighs tensed, the way his breathing had gone short and rough. Luke knew he could finish him right there if he wanted to. A few focused strokes and he could make his dad cum in the toy while he watched.
Instead, he slowed down.
“So,” Luke said, voice low and steady, “do you want to trade off? See how it works on me?”
The question hung in the air between them.
Rick’s eyes were dark, almost black in the dim light. His chest rose and fell hard under the bunched-up work shirt. For a second, he just looked at Luke—at his flushed face, his parted lips, the way he was still holding the toy on Rick’s cock like he was waiting for instructions.
“Okay,” Rick said, voice low and rough.
He reached out and wrapped a calloused hand around Luke’s wrist, stopping the strokes. He didn’t yank it away—just held it firmly as he slid the toy off his cock with a long, wet sound.
Luke didn’t hesitate. He pushed himself back against the headboard, spreading his knees wide. His cock stood up hard against his stomach as he settled into position and looked at Rick with a small, crooked grin.
“Like this.”
Rick’s eyes tracked the movement, his restraint hanging on by a thread. He moved forward between Luke’s open thighs, the mattress dipping under his weight. The Fleshlight hung loosely in his hand, shiny with their mixed slick.
Luke’s voice came out quieter. “This is so cool.”
Rick let out a short breath as he grabbed the lube bottle. “That’s one way to put it.”
He knelt between Luke’s open legs and held the toy just above his cock. He looked down at it, then up at Luke’s face, his jaw tight. “You sure about this?”
Luke’s throat worked. His hips pushed up toward the toy. “Yeah, Dad. I’m sure.”
Rick leaned in and pressed the toy down. Luke gasped as it sank onto him—wet and still warm from Rick’s cock. Rick worked it down slowly until Luke was buried to the hilt inside.
Luke’s back arched. His hands flew up and grabbed Rick’s shoulders. “Fuck—Dad…”
Rick braced one arm on the headboard and kept working the toy in steady strokes, eyes moving between Luke’s face and the toy. His voice was low.
“Tell me if it’s too much.”
Luke shook his head, eyes heavy. “It’s not. It’s good. Keep going.”
Luke’s hips started moving with the rhythm, less controlled now. He looked up at Rick and tugged lightly at the open collar of his work shirt.
“Open it,” he said, voice low. “Let me see… all that work you’ve been doing.”
Rick paused for a second, then gave a small, satisfied grin. Keeping one hand on the toy, he used the other to yank his shirt open the rest of the way. The fabric fell apart, revealing his chest—thick and covered in dark, glossy hair.
Luke’s eyes dropped to it. “Fuck, Dad…” he breathed. “The gym’s really paying off.”
Without thinking, he reached up and slid his hand over Rick’s chest, fingers spreading across the firm muscle and coarse hair. Rick’s breath hitched at the touch.
Luke looked up at him, eyes dark. “Can you get closer?”
Rick’s expression softened. He braced his forearm on the headboard and lowered himself further until his open shirt brushed Luke’s sides and his breath warmed Luke’s skin.
Luke let his hand stay resting on Rick’s chest.
“Yeah…” he murmured. “Like that.”
Rick’s eyes flicked down to Luke’s mouth for a second before he leaned in the rest of the way, their faces now only inches apart.
Chapter 6: Sharing
Luke was flat on his back, thighs spread wide, heart pounding. Rick was braced over him, working the toy in slow, steady strokes. Every time the sleeve slid down, Luke’s hips jerked up and his fingers tightened on Rick’s chest, gripping the firm muscle. He was right on the edge, breathing hard.
For a moment, the thought flashed through his head—this feels so fucking good… it can’t get better than this.
But then another thought followed right behind it.
Unless it could.
Luke looked up at his dad. His hand slid from Rick’s chest down to his wrist, stopping the movement.
“Dad…” he said, voice low but steady. “Wait.”
Rick slowed. He held the toy still halfway down Luke’s cock.“Too much?”
“No.” Luke didn’t let go of his wrist. He looked up at his dad and said, voice low but steady, “what if we both fucked it at the same time?”
Rick went still—like he hadn’t fully registered what Luke meant.
Without breaking eye contact, Luke brought his free hand up and slowly pushed two fingers together in the air, demonstrating exactly what he was suggesting.
Rick’s expression shifted from hazy to wary disbelief.
“Luke…” he muttered, voice rough. “We’re already way over the line. That’s not—”
“Why not?” Luke cut in, calm but insistent. He kept his eyes on Rick’s. “You’re already this close. I’m right here. You said you wanted to do something together.”
“Yeah, get pancakes. Not that.” Rick’s jaw tightened, clearly fighting himself. “And it’s not made for that. It’d be a tight squeeze.”
Luke’s thumb brushed slowly over Rick’s wrist. His voice dropped lower.
“That doesn’t sound so bad.”
Rick stared down at him for a long moment, the last thread of resistance visibly twisting in him. He pulled the toy fully away. The sudden loss of heat and pressure made Luke’s hips jerk.
Rick knelt back on his heels, turning the Fleshlight over in his hand like he was already working out how to make it work. Luke lay there watching him, a slow grin spreading across his face. Even now—bare-chested, flushed, and holding a fuck toy—Rick was shifting into problem-solving mode. It was so fucking dad it sent a hot surge straight through Luke’s cock.
Rick snapped the hard plastic casing open with his tacky fingers and popped the soft, ribbed silicone sleeve free. It wiggled—warm, lubed, and now, without the stiff plastic shell, entirely malleable. He held the silicone up for a moment, eyeing it with a look of quiet satisfaction.
"There," he muttered. "Oughtta do ‘er."
He squeezed a generous pour of lube into the silicone, swirling it around to coat the ribs, and then, with that same efficient, focused intensity, he smeared a slick of it over his own cock, not wasting a drop.
He took the sleeve and worked it down over Luke’s cock. His calloused fingers tightened as he seated it properly, the suction gripping immediately.
“How’s that feel?” Rick asked, voice low.
“Real good,” Luke said, his voice steady. A shiver ran through him as the warm silicone hugged his cock. “I can feel your fingers through it… fuck, that’s intense.”
Once the sleeve was in place, Rick edged in closer between Luke’s thighs until their balls pressed together. Holding his cock in one hand and the sleeve in the other, he lined the head up with the narrow opening already stretched around Luke’s shaft. He pushed.
The silicone resisted at first—tight, reluctant—forcing Rick to angle himself carefully against Luke’s shaft.
“Come on, damn it,” he grunted.
The head nudged in, then with a long, wet schlrrrp, the material gave way. Rick’s cock slid in alongside Luke’s, the ribbed inner walls gripping them both tightly inside the narrow tunnel.
“Oh fuck, Dad…” Luke breathed. “It’s so fucking tight. I can feel you rubbing against me in there.”
Rick looked a little stunned. Luke reached down and slid his hand in beside his dad’s, taking over the toy and holding it firmly against his body.
“I got it,” Luke said. “You can let go.”
Rick nodded and slowly pulled his hand away, reaching up to brace himself on the headboard instead. His balls pressed warm and heavy against Luke’s. For a moment, neither of them moved.
“Okay,” Rick muttered. “Let’s do this.”
It was clumsy at first—both of them figuring out the rhythm as their cocks rubbed together inside the tight sleeve. Every thrust made the toy squelch wetly around them. The ribbed walls dragged along both shafts, their heads catching and sliding against each other with every push and pull.
Rick kept his eyes on Luke, hips pumping steadily. “That feel good?” he grunted.
Luke’s head tipped back against the pillows, his hips rising to meet his father’s. “Yeah… fuck, right there. Don’t stop.”
Luke’s hand moved back up to Rick’s chest, fingers spreading over the firm muscle and coarse hair. His other hand stayed firm at the base of the sleeve, holding it in place as they fucked it together.
“Feels different… better, with you,” Rick murmured, eyes dark and fixed on Luke’s flushed face.
Luke smiled up at him, heart pounding. He could feel Rick’s pleasure just as keenly as his own, and it sent a shiver racing through him.
“Yeah,” he whispered back, “me too.”
Rick’s free hand slid up under Luke’s tank and found his chest. His rough thumb brushed over one nipple, then pinched it firmly between his fingers and twisted.
Luke gasped sharply, his back arching. “Fuck—Dad—”
A bead of sweat rolled down Rick’s temple and dropped onto Luke’s collarbone. As Rick shifted his weight, his grip on the headboard faltered. His hand dropped to the mattress beside Luke’s head to catch his weight, lowering until he was hovering face-to-face with his son.
They were so close now that Rick’s open shirt dragged across Luke’s skin. Their noses brushed. Their lips hovered just a breath apart.
Luke looked up at him in awe. Holding himself up like that—one arm braced, shoulders tight with effort, hips pumping—Rick looked so strong.
“Dad,” Luke breathed, then tilted his chin up that last fraction and kissed him.
Rick gave in slowly at first—just dry, tentative lip contact. But as Luke pressed in, Rick’s mouth opened slightly, and the kiss deepened. Tongues met, slow and hesitant at first, then hungrier. They kissed messily while they kept fucking the toy, Rick’s rough fingers still tugging at Luke’s nipple as Luke whimpered into his mouth. Every time Rick pinched harder, Luke’s cock twitched against his inside the tight silicone.
Luke broke the kiss, breathing hard against Rick’s mouth. His hand tightened on Rick’s chest and his hips stuttered, like he was trying to slow things down. But Rick didn’t stop. He kept driving into the toy in hard, deep strokes, grinding their cocks together inside the tight sleeve.
Luke tried to hold still, tried to get some control back, but his dad’s cock dragged against his again and again, pushing him closer. His thighs started to shake.
“Dad—” he gasped, voice tight. “Fuck—I’m—”
Rick’s free hand slid down from Luke’s chest to grip his hip, fingers digging in as he pulled Luke up into every thrust.
“That’s it, that’s it,” he huffed, breathing harder as his hips worked faster.
Luke seized up. “Dad—I can’t—”
Rick thrust deep again and twisted Luke’s nipple at the same time. Luke came hard, his cock pulsing inside the toy as he flooded the sleeve with thick, hot spurts. The sudden extra slickness made everything messier—wet, rhythmic squelches filling the room every time Rick kept driving into it.
Luke’s whole body jerked. The continued friction felt almost too much, the wet drag of Rick’s cock against his now hypersensitive shaft sent sharp sparks through him. Still, he reached up with a trembling hand and pinched Rick’s nipple, twisting firmly.
“Come on, Dad,” he panted, voice hoarse and strained. “Give it to me.”
Rick’s jaw locked. Sweat dripped from his forehead as his thrusts turned frantic and desperate. His hand on Luke’s chest flattened, fingers splayed wide as he put more of his weight down on it for leverage. His hips snapped forward harder, rougher, chasing his release.
“Oh fuck, Luke—” he rasped, voice breaking.
He didn’t finish the sentence-he just buried himself deep and let out a low, guttural croaking sound. Thick, hot pulses flooded the already-overstuffed toy, forcing frothy streams out at the base, cum and lube slowly dripping down over Luke’s balls and onto the sheets.
“I got it, Dad,” Luke gasped, working to keep his grip on the sleeve between them as Rick finished his last, trembling thrusts.
Rick let his hips drop, staying pressed against Luke through the aftershocks, breathing hard, forehead resting against his son’s. Luke’s hand stayed on Rick’s chest, his thumb gently soothing the nipple he’d twisted earlier. Without thinking, his other arm had left the toy and wrapped around Rick’s back, holding him close.
Neither of them moved for a long time. Rick’s work shirt was damp with sweat where it pressed against Luke’s tank top. Their breathing slowly evened out together.
Eventually, Rick shifted. He reached down between them and carefully pulled out of the toy before easing it off Luke. More of the mess spilled out, thick and warm, running down Luke’s thigh and onto the sheets.
He lowered his weight again. When he finally spoke, his voice was quiet and rough.
“We shouldn’t have done that.”
Luke looked up at him, still loose and flushed beneath him. “Yeah,” he said softly. “Probably not. But I’m really glad we did.”
Rick let out a shaky breath but didn’t argue. He stayed where he was for another moment, forehead resting against Luke’s, before finally easing off of him.
Chapter 7: Clean Up
Eventually, Rick pushed himself up, wiping a hand over his face. He looked down at Luke for a second, then let out a slow breath.
“Well,” he said, voice still rough, “let’s get this cleaned up.”
He sat up and swung his legs off the bed. Luke followed a moment later, wincing slightly as he stood. As Rick stripped the stained sheets off the mattress in his quiet, efficient way, Luke picked up the discarded sleeve and plastic casing from the floor and carried them into the bathroom, flicking on the light.
For a moment, he just stood there and looked at himself in the mirror. His hair was stuck to his forehead, his face was still flushed. He looked different—not older, exactly, but more experienced than he had that morning. More of a man. There was a quiet satisfaction in his eyes that hadn’t been there before.
He glanced down at the toy in his hands. It was still warm and slick. He turned on the faucet and held the silicone sleeve under the running water, watching as the last of the white froth swirled and disappeared down the drain.
Holding both wet pieces, he looked around the small bathroom. There wasn’t exactly a designated drying spot for something like this.
“What does he even do with this stuff?” he muttered to himself.
In the end, he patted both pieces dry with a hand towel and set them on the back of the toilet.
He looked down at himself. His cock was still messy, streaks of lube and cum clinging to his balls and the inside of his thigh. After a moment, he turned on the shower and stepped in, leaving the curtain open behind him.
“Dad,” he called. “Shower.”
There was a pause. Rick’s footsteps sounded in the hall. He appeared in the doorway, hesitated, then peeled off his open work shirt and dropped it onto the hamper. He stepped into the tub behind Luke, crowding into the small space, and pulled the curtain shut with a soft swish.
For a moment, they just stood close under the spray, not quite touching. Then Luke reached for the soap. Without a word, he started washing Rick—slow, careful strokes over his chest and stomach before moving lower. He was gentle but thorough, taking his time as he cleaned the mess from Rick’s cock and balls with the same easy affection he’d shown earlier.
Rick let him. He braced one hand on the slippery wall, eyes half-closed, his breathing steadying. After a moment, he spoke, voice low.
“Remember when you used to make me wash your hair in the shower?”
Luke huffed a quiet laugh, his hand still moving over Rick’s skin. “Yeah. I’m a little bigger now.”
Rick didn’t answer, but the corner of his mouth turned up. “Yeah.”
When Luke was done, Rick took the soap from him and returned the favor. His big hands moved over Luke’s body with quiet focus—washing his chest, his abs, then carefully between his legs. Neither of them spoke. The only sounds were the water hitting the tile and their breathing. It felt strangely domestic, almost ordinary, which somehow made it feel even more intimate than what they’d just done in the bedroom.
After they rinsed off and dried each other, Rick picked up the toy pieces and padded back into the bedroom. Luke followed. The bed was already smoothed out, the stained sheets tossed into a pile by the door. Rick walked straight to the bedside table, opened the drawer, and tucked the sleeve and casing inside. He slid the bottle of lube in beside them before shutting the drawer with a quiet, final click.
They dressed in relative silence. Rick pulled on a clean, dark grey t-shirt, the fabric stretching across his chest and shoulders before settling into place. It hugged his arms in a way his work shirts never did.
Luke watched as Rick reached down and adjusted his junk before zipping up. The simple, unselfconscious motion made something low and warm pulse in Luke’s cock. Even after everything they’d just done, watching his dad handle himself like that—so casually, so normally—hit him in a way he wasn’t prepared for.
Rick must have felt him staring, because he glanced back. He reached over and tapped the white charging cable sitting on the dresser.
“Charger’s right there,” he said, voice gruff. He gave a small shake of his head. “It was right under your nose.”
Luke blinked. “Oh. Yeah. Thanks, Dad. My phone’s a brick.”
A warm flush crept up his neck, and he felt the throb in his cock at the casual way Rick said it—like nothing between them had changed. He quickly looked down, pretending to check the cable while he adjusted himself subtly in his shorts.
Rick let out a short huff. “Yeah, well. Can’t have you cut off. Lord knows how many girls are blowing up your phone right now, wondering why you’ve gone quiet for the weekend.”
Luke caught Rick’s eyes in the mirror above the dresser. He ran a hand through his damp hair, hoping the flush on his face wasn’t too obvious.
“Trust me,” he said, offering a small, lopsided smile. “They’re not the ones I’m worried about.”
Rick shifted, looking uncomfortable with the honesty of it. “Let’s just get the couch fixed,” he muttered.
On the way to the living room, Rick bent down and picked up the keys he’d dropped earlier, dropping them on the kitchen counter as he passed. On either side of the pull-out couch, Rick took one end while Luke took the other. They worked in tandem, snapping the frame back into place. Luke grabbed a couple of cushions and started tossing them back onto the sofa as he spoke.
“I have the whole summer,” he said, keeping his voice casual. “Before school starts in the fall. I was thinking… I could come over more. If you want. Stay a few nights here and there. Or more than a few.” He shoved another cushion into place. “And this pull-out is such a pain to set up every time. Maybe we could just share the bed? It’d be easier.”
Rick went still for a second, one hand resting on the back of the couch. He didn’t look at Luke right away.
“We can talk about it,” he said eventually, his voice clipped, but not a flat-out ‘no.’
Luke kept moving, straightening the last cushion. “If we can manage to share that,” he said, jerking his head toward the bedroom, “we can definitely manage to share this for a few months. I’m not asking for much. Just… I want to be around.”
Rick let out a slow breath and finally turned to look at him. He really looked at him—at the open, hopeful expression on his face. He seemed to be weighing the reality of it, the shift from “father and son” to something much more complicated and shared.
They stood like that for a while longer, the apartment quiet around them. Eventually, Luke glanced toward the window.
“You hungry?” he asked. “We could go get Father’s Day lunch. My treat.”
Rick looked at him.
“I’m still the dad,” he said, shaking his head. “ I’m paying.”
Luke grinned. “Okay, okay. Your treat.”
Rick grabbed his keys off the counter and slipped his wallet into his back pocket. He gave the apartment one last glance, then followed Luke out, pulling the door shut behind them.
“I meant what I said,” Luke added as they stepped into the hallway. “About the summer. Think about it.”
Rick didn’t answer right away. He just gave a small nod.
They both turned toward the stairs at the same time, bumping into each other in the narrow hallway. There was a brief, clumsy hesitation—shoulder to shoulder, neither quite sure who should go first. It felt awkward, a little ridiculous… and oddly familiar.
Rick let out a quiet huff that might’ve been a laugh. He gestured for Luke to go ahead.
Luke grinned and started down the stairs. Rick followed a step behind.
Outside, the afternoon sun was bright. Luke glanced at his dad and then out toward the horizon of the city. He didn’t know exactly how things were going to work, but as he thought about the weeks ahead, he couldn’t help but wonder what the rest of the summer had in store for them.
END
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