Dad Needs Dick

Incredible. My dad and I have been going at this for a very long time. Nearly eleven years, if my calculations serve me correctly…and with no foreseeable plans of ever slowing down. This being unapologetically fucking like straight horn dogs in this great thing we call our love affair. And when I say my dad, I’m not using a euphemism. I very well mean my dad, my father, my old man. Of course, when most people first hear this, they want to tongue-and-cheek my words. I don’t know how. I don’t know why. Because regardless of how well and fit my dad looks from years of amateur bodybuilding there is no way to easily overlook our twenty-five-year age difference. But what annoys me most is that instead of looking and listening–being that I am the spit image of my dear papa with nearly the same hard-line baritone–is that so many people want to trail off into fantasy land and deep-down role-playing alley where everyone wants to scrub away the obvious, that he and I are truly blood. So let me once again dissolve any doubt: Colt and Robert are father and son. I came from his very brew. I was one of tens of millions of sperm in the semen he blew into my mother’s womb. No, he wasn’t an absentee father. We didn’t reunite later in life and found out we were related after we hooked up. He didn’t groom me to do or be anything other than the outstanding man I am today. No devious intents, no lascivious lures people often concluded getting the sense of our lustful bond. He tried his darnedest to keep his need for dick as far away from the family as he could. He did such a great job of this I swore the bastard was homophobic. That he would’ve thrown me out of his house if he ever found out about the harem of piccolo players I’ve collected around the neighborhoods to service my hefty nine inches. I was constantly horny from pumping iron. Like Dad, I had an incredibly nice body to show for it and a ton of cocksuckers into short guys with real beefy muscles. Moreover, I didn’t want to disappoint my dad further by slipping and getting some girl knocked up derailing my future.

As I later learned, Dad wasn’t so much ashamed of being gay as he was reconciling the polar face-off that was his life. There were discernable shards of guilt he carried from his natural machismo that directly went against his constant need of tooting up his rear in need of a thorough plough. In short, my father is a power bottom.

Fortunately, I wouldn’t have come to learn any of this if it wasn’t for me slipping up. Dad caught me one night after work with a face full of divine ass getting ready to give his little stepbrother the ride of his life for his twenty-second birthday. Dad saw everything, from the first vigorous pump to the last without opening his mouth. My cock had just spit its first batch of icing onto those cakes, slowly coming back to my senses when I looked over and saw the horror on my dad’s face. If it is true orgasm is another word for little death, then I experienced a few of them in that moment looking over at Dad. Even with ribbons still shooting from my cock, he marched towards me with muffled words erupting from his throat as my life flashed before my eyes. I came back to a little with Dad’s younger stepbrother rounding up his clothes and fleeing in embarrassment, apologizing. I came to even more with Dad bawling, begging me to give girls a chance. That life would be easier on me going down the straight and narrow rather than getting my needs met in dark holes. More than anything I wanted to stop the tears streaming down his face. I started shouting, but I ended up grabbing his face and kissing him. Strangely, he kissed back. We went back and forth, stop and started, before my hand slipped to feel his exposed cock. In hindsight, it was always exposed; slick from the leakage it stirred watching me fuck another guy. We got lost in our passion, forgetting our other bond. Soon, I had his clothes off, his slightly haired torso over the side of the bed. And with the help of some lube, I pushed in, urging him to push out without need. And in a deep quivering sigh, with me deep in his channel, I sated the very need he’d been searching for his entire life.

Before then, I thought cracking open a virgin was the best thing ever, of making some snake charmer whimper in spades over my dick. Of course, after a lifetime of making his hole available for every creamstick that came along, Dad was far from the tightest hole I ever rode. That said, he learned how to welcome a guy in and had me to shoot the most powerful double hitter I can remember.

Although I was ecstatic about having a new hole inside the house to ride, the stranglehold of guilt imploded on my dad the second he was forced to expel the seed of his seed out of his well-used hole. He didn’t threaten to throw me or his stepbrother out, but he definitely encouraged us to look for other places to live if we insist on carrying on like we had. Citing he couldn’t participate in our abomination, as if he was never apart of it.

For a while, I took my old man at his word, looking for rooms around town. When I got ready to move, he circled back around making sure I didn’t forget about his gorgeous ass. We played this cat and mouse game for an entire year before he finally gave in.

Even before my parent’s divorce was finalized, it’s been me and him. As we moved about from place to place deciding if we wanted to live as father and son with our love affair in the closet or like lovers who were secretly father and son. About six years ago, we concluded we didn’t give a shit, and after I lease was up on our last place we bought a home together, striking the unique balance of being both father and son and lovers.

As father and son, he was and will always be my head, the man that took care of me when I was unable to do for myself. As my partner, it definitely splits like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. When he’s not fitted on my dick, he can be the hard ass he was bred to be. When he is riding my cock, he can submissively fall in line like the bastard I’ve come to love and thoroughly enjoy fucking.

I might’ve forgotten this uncomplicated truth when I started getting my gym ready. I had spent years working as a personal trainer to save up enough money to open up my own state-of-the-art facility. The humble thing for me to say is that it is my nature to want to help others to be their best versions. Much like getting into the sport of muscle and fitness, I had my selfish reasons: I wanted access to the best gym equipment along with a place to house it without shouldering the entire financial burden alone. I didn’t mind sharing. And in my willingness to share with others, I was even able to install a boxing ring and an Olympic-sized pool.

I thought Dad would’ve jumped at the chance of joining me in this venture being this was his expertise. But sadly, he politely declined. He said growing up in a gym, he hated every minute of it with his old man telling him what to do at all times: Go clean this. Go get this. Strangely, his most abhorrent memories are some of my fondest, watching Grandpa Dolph spot him lifting those massive plates on a single bar. One more push, Colt! It wasn’t long before he and grandpa were spitting mad and cussing trying to outdo one another about who actually succeeded in the task. It was because of that aggressiveness I was able to secure my harem. So, I left him be with his regular job and handful of side hustles when the opportunity presented itself, agreeing to carve out some time for him on the weekends.

Of course, when starting a new business, it is easier said than done. Couple that with the occasional jerk off sessions I gifted myself throughout the day to keep my head in the game on far more important matters.

Even after I finished getting the gym ready months ahead of schedule, I had to hire employees and get things ready for the grand opening. After getting those things together, I got jammed putting together a launch party. My original goal was to open New Year’s Day, a symbolic gesture of a new and most profitable beginning. It was then brought to my attention it would be best if I gave myself a little more time to work out any kinks in the system. I thought opening an extra month ahead of schedule would suffice. I was then told it would be best for me to start running my commercials then and open up an additional month ahead of that.

Life would’ve been copasetic if the Monday I was to officially open the gym didn’t come after Sunday November 1st, the day after Halloween, the Saturday Dad and I agreed to throw our party. It didn’t make much sense to invite people over for the costume party on Saturday and then turn around and invite them to another party on Sunday, though I could’ve hid it under the guise of a game day football party. While our guest list was slowly coming off life support due to the revelation of our relationships, I wasn’t going to strain it even further by stressing the few people we had left in our lives to attend both functions. So, while it was nothing groundbreaking to combine the events, it was sort of ingenious to have my gym sponsor our Halloween party two days before its grand opening.

Two weeks leading up to the party, I had second doubts. My original plan sounded better, to christen the opening with the party the day before or to change the party venue to the gym, giving tours of the place in between. Dad reassured me the current plan was the best. “Son, do you really want some tipsy people playing around with your gym equipment?” Sounded reasonable, right? Dad further convinced me he was so in love with the idea of combining both parties that he even extended the intended budget. Soon his lie and support unraveled right before my very eyes.

After promising me forever he was going to handle the party end of things while I put in the finishing touches at the gym, my old man disappointed me at every turn. He told me he was going to pick up the specialized items with my new gym’s name and logo forcing me to do it two days before. And rather than him apologizing for cramming my schedule even more he started riding me about all the things I needed to get done for the party. That wouldn’t have been such a problem if we didn’t sort this thing out a million times over weeks earlier, even going through countless drills over the summer to see if we overlooked anything in particular.

The party felt like a complete rush job the day before. I looked over every detail again and again, which surprisingly took fourteen hours. And just in the knick of time, I managed to stop by the big box store to pick up the bulk of the essentials.

Once the day arrived, I felt great. I got more done before noon than I planned on, leaving me more time to relax and unwind since my “free” Sunday was scheduled to go out to the farm to pick out some delectable knickknacks with Dad along with a few other romantic errands.

A decent nap and a nice romp before the party should’ve been the only things left to do. Apparently, it was not. After going through the motion of interviewing a housekeeper to clean up before and after the party the week before, even going so far as to leave Dad the funds the week of to pay and tip the lady generously, Dad decided at the very last minute he didn’t feel comfortable having a stranger in the house while neither of us was around. That meant no nap for me. I had to now run around and tidy up, and after tidying up set up the decoration he swore he would set up since this party was his thing. In spite of my frustrations, I still held out hope for a little catnap. No sooner than I could taste it, Dear Old Dad thought it was time to have a little meltdown worrying about the things we’d already taken care of, from the endless liquor and liqueurs to the bountiful platter of wings and cheeses; chips and dips; and other finger foods.

I thought the bastard had given up fighting me on everything when I discovered he had one more round left in him: He demanded to see me in my costume. “C’mon, Robert!”

“No!” I barked.

By then, I was just angry at my dad. He did nothing towards this party other than get on my nerves even though it was his brilliant idea and I was covering the bulk of the expenses. I had set aside money to have someone else take the load of cleaning up so I didn’t have to, giving him time to decorate and here I was doing both! If he didn’t want to have the party, I could’ve done my own thing. If he didn’t want to decorate, I could’ve gotten one of my employees to do it, or help. Then, to top off my aggravation, I had to run around the night before and the day of to get some stuff for the party.

“You have to check to make sure nothing is wrong with it.”

I cut my eyes at him.

If the man wasn’t both my lover and elder I probably would’ve let Colt have it. Then there was a part of me that knew deep down I could never. But there was also a part of me that knew I would soon enough, too.

I wasn’t being contrary. I’d checked my costume several times over since I got it, hence the handful of jerk off sessions I had back at the gym. There was nothing to check with my costume because there wasn’t much to it. I’d always enjoyed showing off my prime physique, and this Halloween soiree was no exception.

“You know what. I think I’m going to crash.” I finished my thought in a firm, deep tone.

Dad wanted to start not getting the hint, so I put a stop to him before he started up.

“Like I said, old man, I’m going to lay down for a few minutes undisturbed before I’m totally out of commission tonight, tomorrow, and the day after that. And everything you need to do or whatever idea is roaming around your head you’re free to do it without me!”

Of course, Dad was still rambling, but he was doing so to my backside as I headed off to our bedroom to follow through on my threat. Making sure I locked the door behind me.

I fell into our bed and for an entire ten minutes slept soundly before I was woke up with thoughts swirling in my head. Was I being a bastard? No! Why was he being such an asshole?

I was about to let my mind rest to follow through on another round of sleep when it hit me. Dad wasn’t just an asshole. Dad just needed his asshole tended to.

It had been more than two weeks since the last time I fucked Dad.

If we went more than three days without doing anything it was a cardinal sin. To go without for as long as we had was an absolute tragedy. Well, that explains a lot!

I started to feel guilty. My hand served as a nice substitute for some ass and throat in a bind, especially after I caught a glimpse of my immaculate pecs and abs in the crosshairs of my massive arms and legs in my costume. But his fingers were no substitute for my long thick cock pumping him into bliss.

 

I shouldn’t have called him ‘old man.’ Dad was a sensitive being on the heels of sixty in a couple of years much like I was to being thirty a few years back.

Nevertheless, I was still too drained from the week to do anything, even with my cock tormenting me for a quickie for a good rest. I rolled onto my side and drifted off to the fantasies of all the freakish things I would do to him once I got up from my nap.

When I went to unlock the door after my nap, I was surprised to find Dad on the other side of it coming my way. I startled him. He looked like he wanted to say something but quietly brushed right passed me through the bedroom onto the master bathroom.

“Got to go?” I trolled Dad.

This was his way of silently confronting me and he knew I knew he knew it. We had another bathroom and a half in the house. He just so happened to need to use that one? So obvious you need dick!

I looked for him to slip up and respond. He didn’t. He didn’t even let out an annoyed grunt to let me know he was very mad or quite horny. I egged him on and told him he had a great future behind him in those sweats and I looked forward to seeing it up close and personal on the elliptical every morning at the gym. Though he said nothing, I felt his smile burn through the back of his salt-and-pepper dome.

“What? You’re not going to say anything to me about my costume, old man?”

I was fully dressed in it, looking great by the way, and nothing? As I announced to him earlier there wasn’t anything to check because there wasn’t really anything to it other than to show up decent for the public in my birthday suit. I toyed with a variety of things that were going to show off my muscles and vicariously promote my gym at the same time, but I finally settled on going as a Spartan.

Absent of its rich red flowing cloak, the bulk of my costume rested with the greaves atop the sandals since I could pick up and put down my metal shield, helmet, and spear, and still make my intent as a warrior known. Of course, the bracers and the pteryges were a given as well, though, if I wanted to, to show more of my commanding thighs, I could strip the latter down to a pair of dark brown leather briefs.

“Nothing?” I asked stationed in the doorway of our master bathroom.

“Stepping into the shower, Dad gave me a nice glimpse of his meaty calves and chiseled cheeky derriere. He didn’t even turn to look my way. Though, he gave up his stronghold by biting his lips and quick glance back at the mirror gave him away. Dad had always been an utter whore for my tight frame and handsome face, claiming I had all the right stuff looking like him, only as a top.

I considered hopping in the shower behind him but held off on that notion. That was exactly what he wanted, and me, too. But because he was being such an ass today, I wanted him to pout a bit more since it had been such a long time since I delivered him his daily dose of strong cock.

I swiped a bottle of lube from the dresser and made my way through the rest of the house to check up on things, knowing I had plenty of time to kill before I made my move. Dad was a fan of steamy hot showers, and we lucked up on the only house in the world to sate that need three times over. He was coming to me, I decided; squeaky clean, I might add.

That he did in nearly a fraction of his usual time and me threatening to hand him the water bill when it came. He came out with a towel around his hard waist. Playing unfair, I see. He knew I was a tit-sucker for his big nipples and wide hairy torso, another delectable jack off sure to get me over the hump every time.

“No time to put on any clothes, eh?” I commented standing next to the spread.

He flashed a smile before jerking his head, reminded he was still mad at me for it being such a long time. Dad got exactly what he came for: my undivided attention. Before he could snatch it away like some golden prize, I reached for a napkin off the table and dabbed his back of a fain rivulet still tricking from his broad neck.

“You missed a spot.” I whispered sweetly, running my arm under his to show him the wet stain on the printed paper just to let him know I was the true master of this game.

The gesture spun me back into the past. Back when Dad finally gave into this, into us.

Back then, Dad and I had been going hot and heavy for about eight months on and off with the occasional icy chill of guilt that washed over him. Just when I thought I had finally gotten through to him, that we could make something much more out of our incessant fucking, Dad reverted to one of his cold spells. Usually, I would wait around for the frost to thaw, but after a couple of weeks, I said fuck it and started training clients by day and pumping eager cocksuckers by night, sometimes two by two. I was done with this little cat and mouse game of ours since I got over the incestuous hang up three fucks in, why couldn’t he? I coped the best way I knew how. I had just about completely let go of Dad and I having anything special. And when I finally moved out of the house, I had just about given up on Dad and I having anything at all, even being father and son. Because the best my wallet could afford was a room on the other side of town, I left the bulk of my stuff at home occasionally having to stop by to pick up one item or another I needed.

One day, I had to pick up something. I lined it up to where I knew Mom was going to be at home and Dad was going to be out. As parents do, they worked it out so the reverse could happen since Mom hadn’t a clue as to the cause of our latest quarrel and wanted us to work it out. Dad tried to be polite. I was annoyed more than anything. He tried to talk to me like we had fallen out over something so trivial, like differences over our favorite sports team or something. Even more, he tried to talk to me like we hadn’t fucked like dogs in heat over the past few months, as if that wasn’t the crux of our hang up and the emotions behind it.

Dad tried to tell me how wrong it was for us to be together like that. I didn’t fight him like I wanted to, but I didn’t agree. I let him have his opinion since he had every right to it. Then he turned around and put a move on me telling me it felt so right, though. I think he thought I was just going to give in because hard cocks think of nothing more than busting loads. That he was going to get his sweet ass pumped once more, either to cure his addiction or put a period at the end of this chapter on us. Same difference.

I wasn’t going to give my old man the satisfaction. It was one thing to be used by a cocksucker, that was mutually beneficial, but not if the cocksucker was my dad. That was a different draw, an emotional one established from the very start. I started to walk away. He grabbed my arm. I pulled away. He snatched it even harder. I snatched away even more. He pulled me in, angry and in lust. I wanted him to draw me in for a kiss, but he was obviously too chicken to do that or to admit that he loved me in a different way other than father and son. We continued this dance before awhile before our passions ignited and we were on the ground wrestling. Neither of us could really bring ourselves to truly hit the other. Yet, there was an aggression there that needed to be handled, a release that needed to come about.

I got on top of Dad. Just because he was chicken, didn’t mean I was. I pinned his arms to next to his head and kissed him. Thought he resisted readily trying to fight me or go for my strained cock, he gave in. Once he did, I was in his arms like I’d so desperately wanted to be the night I left and so many nights thereafter. We petted heavily, starting to sweat in clothes. We were soon out of our shirts and everything else. I remember intimately his thick digits busying themselves at my crotch, trying to work my fly down. My helping him along shucking off my pants and helping him out of his before the two of us were grinding our erections together and me lifting to lodge my cock down his throat.

I thought I had Dad. Fucking his mouth while clutching the nape of his neck, but he proved even with me appearing to have the lead, that he was the one in control with his most powerful suction. I should’ve known better than to go up against a professional cocksucker like my dad, but I truly savored every moment and enjoyed unloading in him while he devoured every drop.

Thank goodness for an awesome recovery time! While he was happily drunk off my hard cock cider, I rolled him over and had at his ass. Eating it and then beating it with his chute open the bury myself deep in it, arching his back and spreading his legs wide like the whore I would come to enjoy fucking repeatedly. He eagerly accepted everything I gave him and just when I thought I was done pounding his ass into oblivion, he then gyrated back.

By the time I lost my second load into him, Mom pulled up into the carport. We rushed to get ourselves together. Nervous about getting caught and looking at him look like he’d just finished working out, I foolishly grabbed some newspaper nearby trying to wipe some of the excess sweat off him. It did a halfway decent job of that except for every puddle of sweat it got rid of it left a smudge of ink behind.

A few days later, Dad showed up on my doorstep looking for a place to crash. He could no longer be with Mom when I gave him what he needed. He left her the house in the divorce, and we got an apartment together bouncing around for a few years. Then we got this place. Able to start a new life after accepting we could no longer run away from the old one.

“I know it’s been a while since I gave you what you needed, Dad.” I offered after pushing aside my pteryges and my briefs to let my hardened cock breathe on his towel-covered ass. “Let me give you what we’ve both been yearning for.”

I reached underneath him and pulled at the knot holding his towel at his waist letting it fall to the ground.

“No.” Dad protested playfully, reaching down for it with his ass in perfect aim. “We got the party to think about. So many things to do before–

My breath kissed his ear. I then reached for his face and pulled it towards me. My intent was to go for an innocent smooch to persuade him. It had been so long since we shared a pure unadulterated caress that it grew into a long lingering smack that had us biting each other afraid to let go. And once we did, it left us completely speechless. How dare I forget the taste of such sweet lips? Such a sweet pair I laid next to every night?

My hand was on the small of his back when I uttered, “It’s your duty to remind me what I got next to me. You can’t let me get so wrapped up I forget that nothing is more important than us.”

Dad kissed me again, this time quite gingerly. “That’s my goal…after this part is over with.”

Dad pulled away. I pulled him back in, tut-tutting. “My first mistake was putting off ‘til later what could’ve been worked out right now!”

I slobbered him. Dad didn’t pull away, knowing he always got quite aroused when our mouths were covered in the other’s spit.

“You make a very convincing argument, Rob. But we’ll have to wait a few more hours before we can really get into it.”

“I know.” I let him pull away. He took the bait. I spun him around and pushed him against the table. “I plan on doing that, too.”

“But–

I spun Dad around towards the spread. “You know goddamn well you don’t give a fuck about this party.” I reached for the lube I sat nearby and slathered my exposed cock with it. Dad froze, gripping the table underneath him in anticipation. Our routine was nothing new in this regard. He knew I was going to smear some across his pucker. When and how was the question, thumping my greased dick into his crack, I said, “If everybody showed up right now you wouldn’t give a shit. Either you’d leave them all at the door or let them come through and watch while you’re getting reamed out. You know why, Dad?”

“Why, son,” I felt his hole palpate just underneath my cock.

I curved my cock just over his hole. The way he pushed out left me little choice but to go ahead and shove the tip on in. “’cause this right here, this is the most important thing.”

He cooed, arching his back while his muscles danced inviting me deeper into him.

“Hard ass whore!” I snarled after I drove in the final inch a few moments later.

Balls against balls, I rocked my cock in his channel pushing the limits of the lube by pushing deeper in and pulling back out to where I kept the head stuck. I pushed in again. He let out a baritone yelp. I was nowhere near satisfied with it. Dad was holding back. And I didn’t like it when he held back. Neither did he, but I understood. It had been a while since he was allowed to let go, let loose and fight for this cock with his ass. He knew what he was for cock and I knew how to bring it out of him just so.

I pulled back again, holding steady mid shaft before I slammed back in, ramming it for good measure knocking down his walls. I did this a couple of more times listening to him strangle against his screams. “Oh fuck! Fuck!”

I was jackhammering his hole in no time, just like he liked, like real men fuck. Just like he said when he was first turned out by cock in the sauna of grandpa’s gym. Dad gasped and groaned on my cock and at the fear that our fucking, the way he was pushing and pulling the table to keep steady was going to send the spread flying onto the floor on the other side.

I didn’t give a fuck.

“Bring your ass back into it.” I growled.

Even though my wording was off, he knew what I meant. His walls came back on my cock and his ass muscles started clamping down on my cock real good.

“Hungry ass, motherfucker!”

I grabbed him firmly by his waist and walked him over to the couch in the den.

“Since you’re so damn worried!” I ejected him off my cock and tossed him forward, watching him belly flop onto the couch.

In no time, I was back on top of him sating his lust, palming his back to keep steady as I grinded his steely buns in a rhythm that drove him absolutely crazy.

“There you go. This ass is my ass….” I began to croon nastily in his ear, teasingly.

The harder I pounded the more he begged and pleaded. Each time saying my name and telling me how good it was to have me inside of him again.

“I know, papi. I know. I missed you, too!”

“Rob, Rob,” he kept murmuring in bliss. His words were no more soon after, just sounds erupting from his throat. Cries that came with every thrust.

His throat was left parched after awhile replaced by the deafening squish that came about from his steady pounding. Even though Dad was left without sound, his sphincter found it strength hungry massaging my cock begging for my load.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!” I screamed dumping my seed into his greedy ass.

Once I was spent, I collapsed onto his back, lying there with nothing left to give. Dad laughed at my defeat, feeling like a man that his ass could knock the sail out of my cock.

“Next time just remind me when you need some dick.” I conceded.