If I don’t lose my virginity soon, I think I’m going to lose my mind.
Graduation is just around the corner, and I’m the only one of my friends who hasn’t punched his V-card! It’s not for lack of trying, of course. I bat my eyes at the cute boys at school and flirt with strange men on the Internet all the time, but for whatever reason, I’ve yet to seal the deal for real. The closest I got was with my first real boyfriend, this hot guy named Kevin. But then my dad had to swoop in and fuck him instead!
It’s so frustrating. Everyone says my dad’s hot, and manly, and his dick is pretty big, but don’t I deserve love? I like to think so. In any event, I’ve learned my lesson–don’t let guys anywhere near my father. I never know what he’s going to do! He claimed he fucked Kevin to try and help me, but I don’t know if I buy all that. It’s not like I need my first time to be anything special. I just want a dick in my ass, for crying out loud!
That brings me to my current mark, uh, I mean, guy. His name is Brock, and he’s so fucking gorgeous. He’s the quarterback of the football team, a real meathead with a thick neck and a head full of rocks. Just my type! He’s never been particularly nice to me–in fact, he actively bullied me all through junior high. But ever since I came out last year he’s been okay to me, and the last few weeks he’s been downright nice!
Whereas he used to bump into me in the hallway and leave me with a bruised shoulder, pretty soon he started just ignoring me, which I counted as a major win. But last month, everything changed. I was walking to AP Chem when I passed him in the hallway. He was wearing his football jersey, his long blonde hair all sweaty from P.E. (it was the only class he wasn’t currently failing). I was ogling him out of the corner of my eye–secretly picturing whether he was cut or uncut like I always do–when suddenly he turned and nodded at me!
Let’s just say, for him, that was a lot. I turned to my closest girlfriend, a short, chubby little girl named Gibby, and squealed.
“Did you see that?”
“He’s in love with you,” she agreed, her eyes wide and desperate.
The next day, on my way to lunch, he did it again. But this time, he even smiled at me, too! I started to cherish these little moments of attention. I normally dressed relatively slutty (I had a virginity to lose, after all) but I started dressing even more outrageously. Thin tank tops that showed off my slender arms and smooth, pale skin. Ass-hugging shorts that were at least a size too small in order to show off my greatest asset. And cute, beach-ready little flip-flops so I could show off my pedicured feet and painted toenails. I was downright fuckable, and Brock definitely seemed to notice.
I was heading to my locker one afternoon after school when Brock grabbed me by the shirt and pulled me into an empty classroom.
“You’re looking pretty faggy, Leo,” he said, his voice low and stupid.
“Oh, am I?” I asked, batting my eyes.
“You really like showing off, don’t you?” He eyed my bare legs, which I’d spent an hour before school putting lotion on.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Brock,” I said innocently. “I just like to dress comfortable.”
“I heard faggy guys like you like to suck cock,” he said matter-of-factly. He grabbed my tank top and pulled me in closer, exposing my right nipple. He looked down at it and smirked. “So do you?”
I smiled sweetly. “Well, if you ask nice.”
He pulled the string of his joggers to undo his pants. The head of his dick poked through the light grey material, eager to be released into my mouth. I got down on my knees and grasped the waistband of his joggers, pulling them slowly down.
A patch of neatly trimmed, dirty blonde pubic hair peeked out from underneath his compression shorts. His cock was thick and long, and it seemed to go on forever as he pulled his underwear down. Finally, the head of his dick came swinging upward, freed from the confines of its cotton prison. I salivated at the sight of it–cut, meaty, lightly curved at the end.
“Put your mouth on it,” he said, his voice husky.
I needed no further instruction. I stuck my tongue out, lightly grazing the underside of his cockhead. The bitter, salty taste of his precum was like nectar on my tongue. He let out a low groan, gripping my curly brown hair with his thick fingers. I opened my mouth and took him inside, reveling in the taste of my very first cock.
Fuck, blowing my dildo at home did not do this justice. His cock was warm and pulsing with life, oozing its stickiness into my hungry mouth. I took him deeper inside me, determined to show him that gay guys really were good cocksuckers. His fingers gently squeezed my curls as he slowly started humping into my mouth.
I was blowing him about halfway by now, his cock sliding past my tongue and hitting the back of my throat at a regular rhythm. I tried to ignore my gag reflex, focusing instead on bringing the most amount of pleasure to the football stud in front of me. I grabbed his meaty thighs, holding onto him to steady myself as I tried to relax my throat. The feeling of his muscular, hairy legs made me leak, and at the same time, allowed me to open my throat enough to take him even deeper.
“Fuck, you’re such a good cocksucker,” he moaned. “Suck my dick, faggot.”
He was now almost balls-deep inside my throat. I looked up at him, his pubic hair crowding my line of sight with every thrust. He wasn’t looking at me, naturally (probably imagining some blonde bimbo like Haiyleigh from AP Bio) but that didn’t really concern me. I was just happy to be of service! I’d barely had so much as a kiss, let alone a dick to suck and slurp and go to town on. If I played my cards right, I might even get him to pork me before he went off to UF on that football scholarship.
He was facefucking me now, his hands gripping the sides of my head as he threw his head back and groaned. I kept my eyes open and my throat relaxed, marveling at how dumb and sexy he looked. He was grinning like an idiot, the right half of his upper lip curled in a smile as he threw back his head and gave into pleasure. Guys like Brock would never cure cancer, but damn did they know how to empty their nuts. Lucky for him I was programmed to receive.
I watched a wave of emotion go over his face as his breathing grew short and ragged. He squinted his eyes in a look of intense concentration like he was trying to remember the square root of four. Then his face went slack and his jaw dropped open as he let out a short gasp.
“Oh, fuck,” he said.
His cock pulsed against my tongue. A boy was cumming in my mouth, finally! I felt glamorous and classy, like Princess Diana. The warm, bitter liquid splashed against the back of my throat, burning slightly as it went down my esophagus. I swallowed as fast as I could, eager to impress him with my commitment to service. His cock twitched with every shot of cum, eliciting short little moans and whimpers from him as a satisfied smile crept across his face.
I did that. I made him smile with my superior cocksucking skills and soft, silky mouth. Take that, Dad!
He pulled his cock out of my mouth, wet and already at half-mast. He sniffed, itching his nose as he tucked his cock back in his joggers. There was a loud SMACK as the fabric of his waistband slapped across his belly.
“That was dope,” he said in what I thought was a bit of an understatement.
I wiped a little bit of semen off my lips and nodded bashfully. “Anytime, Brock.”
Well, he sure did take that to heart. Barely two days went by after that without Brock pulling me into some empty classroom or janitor’s closet for a quick blowie. Most of the time he just shoved me to my knees and let his dick flop out onto my face, although sometimes he let me reach in and pull it out myself. I loved the feeling of his cock in my hand, the first real-live dick I’d ever touched besides my own. I made it my mission to learn what he liked–no talking, extra suction on the head, a quick tug on his balls when he was about to cum. Sometimes he would even flex for me while I blew him, which really got me hot. Staring up at his hot, sculpted muscles and the stupid smile on his face was almost enough to make me squirt hands-free.
He even convinced me to join the football team as a waterboy, “just to have that pretty mouth nearby” (blush). I didn’t know the first thing about football, but luckily all I had to do was mix Gatorade powder into a jug and hand out cups to sweaty jocks during practice. I could practically smell the testosterone and don’t even get me STARTED about the locker room. It was like every gay boy’s dream: bare asses, swingin’ dicks, and uninhibited masculinity, all with a healthy undertone of homophobia. Then, once the rest of the guys headed home after practice, Brock would meet me in the showers, his muscles swollen and cock begging for relief. It was like I had died and gone to gay heaven.
But no matter how much I tried to move the conversation toward him putting that big, beautiful dick in my pretty little pussy, things never went beyond oral. Brock made it clear that he had no interest in blowing me, which was fine. I mean, a little ass-eating would have been appreciated, but I can respect some guys aren’t into that. But what was driving me crazy was him not wanting to fuck me! Oral sex was nice and all, but in the gay world, it was essentially a handshake. I needed a dick in my ass if I wanted to properly obliterate my virginity. (I guess I could also top somebody, but I had little to no interest in that–I know what I was put on this earth to do, and it was not to hammer away at some twink like I’m Woody Woodpecker).
The first time I tried to bring up anal, he seemed totally lost.
“What do you mean, fuck you?” he asked, his face screwed up in confusion. His cock was hanging out of his joggers, wet and hard mid-blowjob.
I batted my eyes. “You know, maybe you can put it in me some time.”
He looked at his cock, then at me. “But I am putting it in you.”
I stifled a sigh. Bless his heart.
I smiled coquettishly, stroking his cock as I said, “Yeah, but like, you could also put it in my pussy.”
This really confused him. “But you’re a dude. You got a dick.”
This time I did sigh. “Yes, I’m aware. I also have an asshole. You know, a tight, wet hole perfect for fucking?”
He scrunched up his forehead, the wheels in his head straining to turn.
I jerked him off expectantly, waiting eagerly for the all-clear.
Finally, he pursed his lips.
“Nah.” He grabbed the back of my head and shoved his cock back into my mouth. “This is good.”
I tried to talk up anal over our next few sessions, but it didn’t seem to go anywhere. He was already getting pussy from the girls at school, he said, and the thought of fucking a guy up the ass seemed a little gay.
With graduation coming up, I knew my time was running out to seal the deal. But it wasn’t until I was chilling on the couch browsing Snapchat one Saturday night that the idea came to me.
Brock had posted a story of him and a few of his dumb friends at some frat party at the nearby college. He had a red solo cup in his hand and seemed to be quite a few beers in.
“If you’re a hot chick and you’re seeing this, send tit pics,” he slurred into the camera.
I had no doubt that at least a dozen women would take him up on that. But suddenly it occurred to me–why not me?
“Everything all right, son?”
I looked up to see my dad staring at me. He was lounging on the sofa chair, a beer in one hand and the TV remote in the other. Tonight was family movie night and we were knee-deep in the middle of Magic Mike.
I put my phone in my pocket and leaped to my feet. “Just gotta use the bathroom.”
I ran up to my bedroom and locked the door behind me, then opened up my dresser. I tore through briefs and jockstraps until I found it: that white lace thong I’d ordered from Temu.
I slipped out of my clothes and pulled it on, wedging the fabric between my buttcheeks and sliding on a loose pair of sweat shorts to cover it. I turned off all the lights except for my bedside lamp and kneeled in front of the full-length mirror beside my bed (best birthday present I ever got). I held my phone out at arm’s length, playing around with the angles until I got the perfect shot. My shorts were slipping just a little bit down my ass, revealing the top curves of my ass and just a hint of the thong slipping into my crack. I arched my back to perfection and snapped a shot.
I had just sent it when I heard a knock at the door.
“Son? Are you in there?”
“I’ll be right out!” I called as I pulled my shirt back on.
“Hurry up. Mike’s about to give a lap dance and your mother’s getting restless.”
I kept one eye on my Snapchat for the rest of the night, only half-paying attention to the movie as I waited for Brock’s response. Mom passed out on the couch about halfway through the film, drunk on Chardonnay. As the end credits rolled and I saw there was still no response from Brock, my heart began to sink.
“Goddamnit, Tatum, you did it again,” my dad said approvingly. He stood up, clapped me on the shoulder, and kissed me on the head. “Good night, son. Don’t stay up too late, we’ve got church in the morning.”
I took a shower and was about to crawl into bed when my phone dinged.
“Hot. Got any more pics?”
It was a selfie of Brock. He was in the back of a car now, his shirt pulled up and hanging from his teeth as he flashed his stomach and a bit of his pubes.
I sat up at full attention, all weariness gone. I went back and forth between poses until I landed on one that I thought telegraphed what I wanted pretty well: a photo of my finger hooked around the thong, yanking it to the side to reveal just a glimpse of my hole underneath. No caption necessary.
Barely a minute passed before my phone began to ring. I picked it up immediately, my heart racing.
“Hello?”
“That was hella hot,” said a deep voice on the other end.
I smiled, laying on my stomach and twirling an imaginary phone cord. “Thanks. Thought I’d show you what you’re missing.”
“You ever put anything in there?”
“Sometimes.”
I could hear his breathing on the other end of the phone, hot and heavy.
“Like what?”
“Mmm, you know. The usual stuff. My fingers, a vibrator… nothing big enough to really satisfy me, you know?”
He was silent for a moment. I heard a faint squelching sound in the background. It took me a moment to realize he was stroking himself.
“I could show you sometime if you want,” I said teasingly. “Maybe you could help?”
The noise got faster and faster until I heard the sound of a long, low groan. Brock’s breath was heavy and panting.
“Meet me after the game on Friday.”
I heard the sound of the click as he hung up the phone.
A smile spread slowly across my face. This was it! It was finally happening!
Friday night was the school championship as our team faced off against the East High Vikings. I hadn’t really followed sports at all before joining the team as the waterboy, but apparently, we were the favorite to win. Coach was being really hard on Brock all week, so much so that he didn’t even stay after for his usual post-practice hummer. I was fine with it, though–all it meant was that much more cum spraying inside my tight little hole.
The morning of the game I woke practically buzzing with anticipation. As I came downstairs for breakfast, my dad was sitting there still in his bedclothes, a t-shirt and a loose pair of tighty whities. He lowered the newspaper and looked at me with a raised eyebrow.
“What are you so excited about?” he asked.
“The big game is tonight.” I grabbed a waffle off the table and started nibbling at it.
“Uh-huh,” he said. “I still don’t know why you joined the football team. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you’re taking after your old man. I just never thought you were into that.”
I shrugged. “People change, what can I say? Football is the great American pastime and I’m just here to support the team.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Hmm. Maybe I should go with you tonight.”
My eyes widened. “No, really, that’s not-”
“I should be there! Support my son. It’s the championship, right?” Dad set down the paper and scratched his balls.
I frowned. “Yes.”
“Excellent. And with your mom on that Australian walkabout for the next two weeks, it’ll be nice to get out of the house. Spend some quality time with my son.”
I groaned. “Dad, I’m gonna be busy. Some of us might hang out after and I-”
Dad patted me on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, boy. I won’t make a nuisance of myself. Just wanna see the game and then I’ll head on home. You can even take the car, how’s that sound?”
I beamed. “Okay. Thanks!”
The school day couldn’t come to an end fast enough. By the time the bell rang, I beelined straight to the field. The guys were already there stretching and getting ready for drills.
“Leo! Over here,” said Coach Balz. He beckoned me over to the hydration station by the benches. “Tonight’s a very important night. I got a lot of thirsty boys and they’re all relying on you to keep them quenched. That sound like something you can do?”
I gave him a salute. “Absolutely, sir.”
He gave me a quick smack on the ass. “Go on, son.”
Gametime was at 6, and by 5:30, the bleachers were already mostly filled. Almost the whole school had come out to see the game, and I could see Gibby squeezing herself in on the end of a row of guys who had all painted their chests to say “Vikings Suck.”
She waved ecstatically at me, then pointed to her left. I looked over to see my father squeezing in beside her, wearing his tan trucker jacket and a pair of Wrigley jeans. He gave me a quick thumbs up, then turned to the guy with the V painted on his chest and began chatting him up.
Soon the coach was calling us all in for our pregame huddle. Brock’s face was furrowed in concentration, the same way it did when the teachers asked him to spell something like “elephant.” The coach was going on and on about some play they were going to do and how the other team was all made up of cocksuckers who didn’t know their ass from their elbow. I just stared at Brock, trying to picture how amazing his adrenaline-heavy post-win fuck would be.
As much as I’d never really cared for football, it was pretty exciting to witness a championship game from the sidelines. I cheered on the guys and handed out cups of Gatorade every time they came in from the field, swapping out used towels for fresh ones and resisting the urge to give the used ones a sniff. By the end of the third quarter, we were up by six and spirits were running high. I took a peek out into the stands, where Gibby caught my eye and gave me a quick wave. My dad was still talking to the guy with the V on his chest, his arm around the back of the bleachers as he leaned in close and said something I couldn’t hear. I could tell the guy was blushing even from here.
“Leo! Keep your head in the game and hand me those towels,” growled the coach.
The last quarter was particularly brutal. The guys kept making one mistake after the other, and pretty soon our places had switched and now we were the ones down by six. Brock took off his helmet and threw it on the ground, letting out a roar that was equal parts scary and sexy.
“Listen you sons of bitches,” yelled Coach Balz. “We’ve only got three minutes on the clock. Now I know you cocksuckers can win this if you goddamn try, you hear me? Let’s do this!”
They went back on the field after the timeout and took their positions. My eyes stayed on Brock, who was concentrating so hard he looked like he had been asked to spell something tough like “electricity.” As soon as the ball got into the hands of the center, he snapped the ball back to Brock, who took off running. I joined the other fans in cheering him on, watching as he ducked and weaved through the other players to get to the endzone.
I was standing close to the sidelines, eager to witness Brock’s brilliant, game-winning touchdown from as close as possible. As he dodged another tackle, my eyes caught on my father in the stands. He had his arm around the shirtless guy now and seemed to be whispering something in his ear. The guy giggled, then put his hand on my dad’s leg.
“Leo, watch out!”
The sound of Coach’s voice snapped me out of it. I looked up just at that moment to see Brock careening toward me, dodging the player who was currently charging at him full-on. Before I could dive out of the way, Brock crashed into me, pummeling me to the ground. Then everything went dark.
The first thing I noticed was a pounding in my head. I lifted my hand to my head and groaned, making a rustling sound as I moved. I was lying on some kind of crinkly paper that felt like the kind you saw at a doctor’s office. When I opened my eyes, I saw that I was in the infirmary at the school. My father stood by the door, his face red with anger.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he shouted. “That is my son, goddamnit!”
I could see Brock sitting in a chair next to him, his eyes cast downward. He had taken off his jersey and pads, sitting there in just his football pants with his helmet in his hands. His dirty blonde hair was all mussed up from the game and he was covered in dirt and sweat.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he mumbled. “But I told you, he came out of nowhere. I didn’t mean to-”
“I don’t give a damn what you did or didn’t mean to do,” said my dad. “My son is fragile. He’s not like you, he can’t take all this rough and tumble bullshit.”
Brock snorted.
My dad glared at him. “You serious right now, boy?”
Brock cocked his head. “I mean… Come on, sir. I think we both know what kind of boy your son is.”
Dad ground his teeth. “Oh, I see how it is. You think just cause he’s a little femboy you can do whatever you want with him, do you?”
Femboy? I mean, sure, I wasn’t exactly masculine, but I wouldn’t go that far. I wanted to say something in my defense, but my head still hurt, so I just lay still on the table.
Brock smirked. “Look, he’s the one trying to get me to fuck him, okay? Sending me pussy pics on Snapchat, going on and on about how he wanted me to fuck his tight little hole.”
My dad screwed up his face in anger. I felt a cold sweat break over me.
Brock went on. “But I’m not gonna fuck him because I’m not a faggot, alright? So none of this has anything to do with me. It’s not my fault the little fairy was in the way. Shit, if you’d raised him to be more of a man, he’d probably be on the team instead of on the sidelines.”
My face burned with embarrassment. I couldn’t tell how much of this was macho posturing and how much was serious. How could he say these things? I mean, was he really not gonna fuck me? After all that effort I’d put in? The gall!
Dad reached for his belt buckle and popped it open. He slid his belt out from around his waist and let it smack against the wall. “What did you just say, young man?”
Brock raised his hands. “Whoa man, I don’t want any trouble. Look, I said I was sorry.”
Dad scoffed. “I know guys like you, Brock. Think you own the whole world just cause you got a lot of muscles and a big dick. Well, I was just like you once. And let me tell you–you don’t know fucking shit.”
Brock stood up and sneered at my dad. “Really, old man? You think you’re a match for me?” He lifted his arm and flexed, his bicep like a giant rock. “Pretty sure I could take you any day.”
“You wanna try me?” asked Dad. He dropped the belt on the ground and ripped off his trucker jacket, then raised his hands in a fighting position.
Brock laughed. “I don’t beat up old guys.”
“I think it’s time someone taught you how to respect your elders, son.” Dad grabbed Brock’s arm and yanked it behind him.
Brock let out a cry of pain. “Dude, what the fuck?”
He twisted out of his grip and wrapped his arms around Dad’s waist, bracing his legs wide for balance as he tried to tackle him to the ground. I lifted my head weakly, watching in awe as the two men fell to the ground, each one struggling for dominance over the other. I was still too dazed to really move, and even if I could, I wasn’t sure I wanted to stop what was playing out between the two of them.
“You smug son of a bitch,” my dad grunted as he wrested his way to sitting on Brock’s legs. He tried to pin Brock’s hands to his sides but Brock slipped free, rolling to the side before charging forward and catching my dad around the chest.
He had my dad pinned against the ground now, breathing heavily as he used his weight to keep Dad down. Their faces were inches away from each other and dripping with sweat. “Give it up old man,” he said, breathing heavily. “Your wrestling days are over.”
Quick as a flash, Dad twisted his body, using his legs to roll them both over. Now my dad was the one on top of Brock, who had the wind knocked out of him from being slammed into the floor. Dad grabbed his arm and rolled him over, pinning him facedown on the ground.
“What did you say?” he snarled in his ear.
Brock struggled weakly against my father’s grip. “Argh… get off me, man!”
“Not until you apologize to my son, punk.”
“Fuck you, dude!”
I saw a glint in my father’s eyes, the same one I used to see when I was younger and I did something to really piss him off. With one hand still holding Brock’s arms in place, my father used the other to grab the waistband of Brock’s football pants.
Brock’s eyes went wide. “What the fuck are you doing?!”
“I’m teaching you some respect,” said my dad as he pulled Brock’s pants down to reveal his pale, hairy ass. He was wearing one of those straight guy sports jockstraps, and his ass jiggled a little as my dad yanked the waistband of Brocke’s pants down below his cheeks.
“I’m guessing your old man never gave you any discipline,” said my father as he brought one of his rough paws down on Brock’s ass cheek.
“You can’t do this! You… you’re not my dad,” said Brock.
Dad spanked him again on the cheek, not too hard, but just enough to let him know he meant business.
“I’m giving you a valuable lesson, boy.” He brought his hand down in another spank, this time a little bit harder. “You need to respect your elders.”
The next spank caused Brock to cry out. “Ow! Stop it, you old fuck!”
Dad gave him a few more swats on each cheek, causing his bottom to start turning a light shade of pink.
“Ow! I’m… I’m sorry, okay?”
“Sorry for what?” asked my dad as he brought his hand down for another sharp spank.
“Agh! Sorry for… for hurting Leo. For not being more careful.”
“And?” SMACK!
“Jesus, stop it! I’m sorry for calling him a faggot. He’s… just a normal gay guy.”
Dad leaned down and whispered in his ear. “You know what I think?” he said softly.
He slipped his hand in between Brock’s legs and grabbed his cock. I was shocked to see that Brock had a raging boner.
“I think you like this, son.”
Brock’s eyes went wide. “N… no I don’t.”
Dad stroked him a little bit, making him whimper. “No? Well, how about this?” He let go of Brock’s cock and pulled him into his chest. He wrapped his arm around Brock’s head, burying the jock’s face deep into his armpit.
“You smell that?” he said gruffly as Brock struggled against him. “That’s what a real man smells like.”
Brock stopped struggling, then went limp. His hands curled around Dad’s arm as he breathed him in deeply.
“Fuck yeah… you like that, don’t you?” asked my dad.
Even from here, I could see the head of Brock’s dick springing out the side of his jockstrap. My dad flexed his arm, showing off his rock-hard biceps. Even for an old man with a gut, he was still built like a tank. Brock moaned, squeezing my dad’s muscles as he softly kissed his arm.
“I know what boys like you need,” said Dad as he pulled off his shirt. “You think you’re hot shit but all you really want is a real man telling you what to do.”
Brock kissed his way down my father’s hairy chest, his hands squeezing my father’s pecs. He took one of his nipples in his mouth and sucked on it gently, squeezing and massaging the skin as he suckled.
“That’s it, boy. Show daddy how much you want it.”
I was starting to get hard myself, dazed as I was. I sat up slowly, ignoring the throbbing in my head as I got a better look at the action on the ground. Brock was kissing and licking my dad’s chest, his hands roaming over Dad’s hairy torso. Dad had Brock’s cock in his hand, stroking it softly as he soaked in the boy’s admiration.
I was torn between feeling absolutely livid at my father for seducing yet another conquest of mine and feeling flattered that he would go to such lengths to defend me. I debated saying something but had no idea what that would be, so I kept quiet and started rubbing myself through my shorts.
Dad lifted Brock’s chin until the jock was looking him in the eyes. “Tell me what you want, boy.”
Brock swallowed. “I… I don’t know…”
“I do,” said Dad. He leaned in and kissed Brock on the lips, devouring the young jock’s mouth with wet kisses.
Brock moaned, going limp as a rag doll in my father’s arms.
“I know exactly what you want,” Dad said in between kisses. “You want daddy to be proud of you… to think you’re a big man… to see your big muscles… and your brute strength… and tell you what a good boy you are…”
Each phrase was punctuated with another wet, sloppy tongue kiss. Dad slid his hand down Brock’s back to the cleft above his cheeks, slipping his fingers into Brock’s crack. Brock moaned as Dad’s middle finger, rough and calloused, brushed up against his hole.
“You don’t need to pretend anymore,” Dad said. He nipped Brock’s ear, then whispered, “Daddy loves you just the way you are.”
He slid the tip of his finger inside of Brock, causing the great big jock to cry out and grip his arm so tightly his fingers turned white.
“Shhhh,” said Dad as he wiggled his finger. “Daddy’s here now. Daddy’s got you.”
He pushed Brock onto his back, crouching at the jock’s feet with his finger still inside him. He pulled the jockstrap aside to release Brock’s throbbing cock, then swallowed it whole.
Brock’s eyes went wide as he shouted, “Oh, fuck!” He lifted his head weakly, staring down at my father as he bobbed up and down on the football player’s cock.
Unlike my blowjobs, which were generally hands-free and entirely one-sided, Dad was putting everything he had into blowing Brock. As his right hand roamed across Brock’s body, pinching his nipples and squeezing his biceps, the fingers on his left hand were hammering in and out of the jock’s tight hole. Despite (to my knowledge) never doing any form of ass-play, Brock’s asshole was taking one finger after another until Dad was three fingers deep. Brock’s face was twisted in a mixture of agony and ecstasy as who knows how many internalized masculine ideals were being steamrolled inside his brain.
Dad pulled his fingers out of Brock’s hole and sucked them dry. “Fuck, boy. You taste so good.”
He grinned lecherously as he unbuttoned his pants and started to pull them down until he was wearing nothing but those tighty-whities. Brock watched him nervously, his cock as hard as a nail.
“Wh-what are you gonna do, Mr. Wyte?”
Dad pulled his cock out of his briefs and gave it a quick tug. “Don’t ask questions you already know the answers to.”
He threw Brock’s leg over his shoulder and positioned himself at the entrance of Brock’s innocence.
Brock’s lip quivered slightly. “I… I’m scared.”
Dad put his hand behind Brock’s head and pulled him in for a kiss. The big jock was like a trembling kitten in Dad’s hands, more soft and vulnerable than I had ever seen him.
“Don’t be afraid, baby,” Dad said gently. “You want this, you know you do. Now be a good boy and let daddy in.”
Brock kept his eyes locked onto Dad’s, then nodded slowly. His lips parted in a soft gasp as Dad pushed into him, eviscerating his manhood inch by inch.
“That’s it, baby boy,” my father said as he sank his cock into the football player. “Doesn’t this feel right?”
He slid another inch inside, his eyes gleaming as he said, “You don’t have to pretend anymore. You’re daddy’s good boy, aren’t you? You just wanna make him proud.”
“UGH!” Brock grunted in surprise as Dad bottomed out inside him. “Y-yes sir,” he said softly.
Dad grinned. “I’m so proud of you, son. You’re making daddy feel so good.”
He began rocking his hips back and forth, slowly at first, then more forcefully as he opened up Brock’s virgin asshole. The jock’s eyes were wide, filled with fear and pleasure and hungry, hungry need.
I felt a surge of jealousy as I watched my father take Brock’s virginity. It should be me on my back getting filled, not him! But Dad was obviously right–there was no denying Brock’s submissiveness, how quickly he had spread his legs for my father and given himself to another man. Yet again, he was a poor choice to take my virginity. I had been so close, too! Oh well. Now all there was to do was to sit back and enjoy the ride as my father worked his magic.
Dad leaned his forehead against Brock’s, his eyes locked onto the younger man’s as he thrust into him. “You feel me?” he asked, his voice harsh and commanding.
“Yes sir,” Brock said meekly.
“Tell me,” he said, picking up the pace of his thrusting. “Tell me who your daddy is.”
Brock’s leg flailed in the air as Dad slammed his cock in deep. “UGH! Y-you’re my daddy.”
“Again,” said Dad.
“You’re my daddy.”
Dad pressed their chests together, cradling Brock’s head in the crook of his neck. “Louder!”
“You’re my daddy!”
“Scream it!”
“YOU’RE! MY! DA-DDY! UGH!”
Brock’s eyes rolled in the back of his head as Dad pummeled his asshole, their sweaty bodies grinding against each other. I was rubbing myself underneath my shorts, working my way to a particularly brutal orgasm. Dad clamped down on Brock’s neck, licking and sucking and biting him like an animal as he burrowed deep inside Brock’s bowels.
“That’s it,” groaned Dad. “That’s it! Take my cock, boy. Take all of me. Take. My. Fucking. Seed!”
He bellowed loudly, his arms wrapped tightly around Brock’s frame as he loaded him up with his cum. He was shaking, his whole body tensed and dripping with sweat as he inseminated the newly-broken jock underneath him. It was fascinating to watch, almost primal, like one of those nature shows. My father was a beast of a man, the pinnacle of virility. I was sure that if Brock had been a woman, my father’s seed would have taken root immediately. I suppose, even with my father cucking me again, I should be thankful I didn’t have to worry about any new siblings.
Brock just watched my father’s face in awe, taking in every grunt and twitch as my father spilled his seed. When my dad was finished ejaculating, he laid his head down against Brock’s chest and nuzzled him gently.
“So proud of you,” he murmured.
“Um… sir?” Brock’s voice was tentative.
Dad lifted his head.
“Uh, I was wondering… could I… cum, maybe?”
Dad smirked. He kissed him softly, slipping his hand behind his head to pull Brock deeper into the kiss.
“Let daddy take care of you.”
Without removing himself from Brock’s hole, my father sat back on his legs, pulling the jock up with him. He held the boy steadily with one hand, using the other to softly stroke Brock’s dick. He continued kissing Brock, probing the boy with his tongue as he worked his cock like a pro. He was also bucking his hips ever so slightly, stimulating the jock’s prostate as he brought him closer to the edge.
I myself was within seconds of cumming, overwhelmed by the hot display of man sex in front of me. As Brock’s whimpering grew louder and his cock started to spurt jets of hot cum all over his stomach, I felt my own cock erupting inside my shorts. I kept my breathing steady, not wanting to bring attention to myself as my sticky seed seeped through my underwear and trickled down towards my hole.
I said nothing as my father and Brock got dressed, pretending to sleep as they pulled their clothes back on. My father licked Brock’s seed off of his stomach, then fed it to him in a hungry kiss. I didn’t know why I didn’t say anything–perhaps I was embarrassed by it all, or perhaps I didn’t want to give my father the satisfaction of knowing I knew I had been cucked again.
After a few minutes, I felt him gently shaking me.
“Leo? Leo, are you awake?”
I opened my eyes, then murmured, “Dad? What happened?”
He put his hand on my forehead. “Hey, son. There was an accident. You fell and hit your head.”
I sat up slowly. “Right… I remember.”
Dad looked at Brock, then jerked his head at me.
“Uh, I’m sorry, Leo,” Brock said sheepishly. “I should have been more careful.”
“That’s okay,” I said. “What happened with the game? Did we win?”
Brock shook his head. “We lost. By a lot.”
“Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”
He looked at my dad and smiled. “It’s okay. The night wasn’t a total waste.”
The sexual tension between the two of them was still palpable. I tried to ignore the smell of cum in the air and the obvious bottom eyes that Brock was throwing at my father.
After a moment my dad said, “Brock, why don’t you go on and give my son and me a minute? I just want to make sure he’s okay.”
Brock nodded and left. As soon as he was gone, Dad handed me an aspirin and a glass of water.
“I was worried about you for a second there,” he said, and I could actually hear the concern in his voice.
“I’m fine, Dad,” I said.
He patted my leg, then lifted his hand and looked curiously at it. I felt my stomach sink when I saw it covered in sticky clear cum.
He looked down at the wet spot on my shorts and grinned. “Looks like someone wasn’t entirely asleep.”
He wiped his hand on his shirt and chuckled.
“I love you, son. Just do me a favor, will you?”
He winked at me.
“Don’t tell your mother.”
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