Bachelorette Party
Two years had flown by since that wild night when I'd begged my dad to strip for me, and everything had spiraled into this forbidden heat between us. I was 21 now, engaged to Mia, the woman I truly loved—her soft curves, her sweet moans when I thrust into her. But even as I pinned her down and pounded her pussy, my mind wandered back to Dad. His strong hands gripping my hips, his thick cock sliding deep inside me, stretching me in ways Mia never could. We'd kept it going, stealing fucks whenever we could—quick, desperate sessions in the garage or late at night when she was asleep. She had no clue, and I intended to keep it that way. Guilt gnawed at me sometimes, but the rush of our secret drowned it out.
I proposed to Mia on a quiet evening walk by the beach. 'Marry me,' I said, dropping to one knee with the ring I'd saved up for. Her eyes lit up, tears spilling as she nodded furiously. 'Yes, João! God, yes!' We kissed, her tongue eager against mine, and that night I fucked her slow and deep, whispering how much I loved her. But in my head, it was Dad's gruff voice growling my name.
Word spread fast. I told Simon first, my best buddy since high school. 'Dude, that's awesome! Bachelor party's on me—gonna make it epic.' Then David, our other close mate, slapped my back with a grin. 'About time you locked that down.' Uncle Manuel and cousin Ruben got the news at family dinner; Manuel raised his glass, booming, 'To the groom! Mia's a lucky girl.' Ruben just smirked, punching my arm. And Dad... I saved him for last, pulling him aside after everyone left. 'I'm marrying her, Dad. For real.' His face softened, but his eyes held that hungry spark. 'Proud of you, son. She's good for you.' He paused, hand squeezing my shoulder a bit too tight. 'Doesn't change us, though. Right?' I nodded, my cock twitching at the promise. 'Never.' We sealed it right there in the kitchen, him bending me over the counter, slamming into my ass until I bit my lip to stifle the moans.
Simon pulled out all the stops for the bachelor party. 'Karting first—afternoon adrenaline rush,' he announced over beers a week before. 'Then steak dinner, and cap it with a strip club. No holds barred, brother.' The guest list was solid: me, Simon, David, Uncle Manuel, Ruben, and Dad. I hesitated inviting him, but Simon insisted. 'Family's family—gotta have the old man there to embarrass you.' Dad agreed with a wink when I asked, whispering later, 'Be careful what you wish for.'
The day arrived hot and buzzing. We met at the karting track, engines roaring as we lined up. I edged out Simon on the first lap, wind whipping my face, but Dad surprised everyone, hugging the turns like a pro. 'Where'd you learn that?' David yelled, laughing as Dad lapped him. 'Years of practice,' Dad shot back, his eyes locking on mine in the pits afterward—knowing, teasing. Ruben crashed into a barrier, cursing, while Manuel played it safe, hollering encouragements. By the end, we were sweaty, hyped, piling into cars for the restaurant.
Dinner was rowdy—steaks sizzling, beers flowing. Simon raised his glass. 'To João, the luckiest bastard alive. May Mia keep you in line!' Laughter erupted. David shared embarrassing stories from our teen years, Ruben teased about wedding nights, and Manuel grilled Dad on 'fatherly advice.' Dad just chuckled, his foot brushing mine under the table—accidental to them, electric to me. 'Treat her right, son. But remember, marriage is work.' His tone was light, but I knew the double meaning. I shifted, half-hard already.
Night fell, and we hit the strip club—a dimly lit den pulsing with bass and neon. The place reeked of sweat and cheap perfume, bodies grinding on stage. We grabbed a VIP booth, shots lined up. 'This is gonna be legendary,' Simon crowed. But as the emcee announced the main act, a waiter rushed over. 'Bad news, gents. Our headliner called in sick—no backup tonight.' Groans all around. Ruben slammed his fist. 'What the hell? We paid for this!'
My mind raced. Dad sat rigid beside me, nursing his drink. An idea hit—wild, risky, perfect. 'Wait,' I said, turning to him. 'Dad, you're a stripper. You could fill in.' The booth went silent, then exploded in laughter. Simon wheezed, 'No way! That's gold!' David clapped. 'Do it, man—save the party!' Uncle Manuel guffawed. 'Come on, brother-in-law—show us what you've got!' Ruben egged him on. 'Yeah, Uncle! Make it memorable.'
Dad's face paled, eyes wide with shock. He shot me a glare—'João, what the fuck?'—mouthed when no one looked. Our secret hung heavy; one slip, and everything crumbled. But the guys kept pushing, chanting 'Strip! Strip!' I leaned in, whispering, 'Please, Dad. For me.' His jaw clenched, conflict raging, but after a long swig of whiskey, he stood. 'Alright, you degenerates. But this stays here.' Cheers erupted as he vanished backstage with the manager.
The lights dimmed, spotlight hitting the stage. Music throbbed—slow, sultry beats. Dad emerged in a tight black shirt and pants, the club's standard getup, but on him, it hugged every muscle from years of performing. He was 45, but built like a wall—broad shoulders, chiseled chest from endless workouts, and that ass I'd gripped so many times. My pulse hammered as he prowled the stage, locking eyes with me in the booth. The guys whooped, oblivious to the tension coiling in my gut.
He started slow, hips swaying to the rhythm, hands running up his chest. Fingers hooked the shirt's hem, peeling it up inch by inch, revealing tanned abs rippling under the lights. 'Damn, he's ripped!' Simon yelled. Dad smirked, tossing the shirt aside, flexing for the crowd. His nipples hardened in the cool air, dark and peaked. He circled the pole, grinding against it, ass clenching as he rolled his hips. My cock stiffened in my jeans, memories flooding—him grinding on me just last week, cock buried deep.
The beat picked up. Dad's hands dropped to his belt, unbuckling with deliberate tease. He yanked it free, cracking it like a whip, making Ruben jump and laugh. Pants slid down his thighs, revealing black briefs straining over his bulge. Thick thighs flexed as he kicked the pants away, now in just those briefs and boots. He dropped low, ass out toward us, shaking it slow—cheeks parting slightly, the fabric riding up. 'Holy shit!' David hollered. Uncle Manuel whistled. I gripped the table, heat pooling low; I knew what hid there, the heavy cock I'd sucked.
Dad spun, facing us, palming his crotch. The outline grew, thickening as he stroked through the fabric. 'Yeah, work it!' Simon shouted. Dad's eyes never left mine, dark with promise. He hooked thumbs in the waistband, tugging down slow—first the head of his cock popped free, fat and veined, then the shaft, springing out half-hard. The briefs hit the floor, and there he was, fully nude, cock swinging heavy between his legs. Nine inches, uncut, balls hanging low and full. The guys gasped, then cheered wildly. 'Fuck me, that's impressive!' Ruben blurted.
He grabbed the pole, spinning around it, muscles bunching. One leg hooked high, showing off his hole—tight, puckered, the one I'd tongued and fucked. Precum glistened at his tip as he humped the air, thrusting toward me. 'This is for you, boys!' he growled, voice husky over the music. But I knew—it was for me. He dropped to his knees, crawling across the stage, ass up, then flipped onto his back. Legs spread wide, he jerked his cock slow—fist pumping from base to head, foreskin sliding back to reveal the shiny crown. Veins pulsed, and a bead of precum dripped down.
The guys were losing it, tossing bills, but I was transfixed. Dad arched, free hand tweaking a nipple, the other speeding up on his shaft. 'Come on, make it rain!' Manuel yelled. Dad obliged, groaning loud—'Ah, fuck yeah'—as his balls tightened. He edged closer to the booth, cock aimed right at me, stroking faster. Rope after rope shot out—thick, white cum splattering the stage, his abs, dripping down his fist. He milked every drop, panting, body slick with sweat.
The applause died down as Dad snatched his black briefs from the stage edge, slipping them back on with a quick tug. His cock still hung semi-hard, the fabric tenting obscenely as he adjusted himself. Sweat glistened on his skin, making every ridge of his muscles catch the dim lights. He sauntered offstage, but instead of heading straight back to the booth, he locked eyes with me—dark, commanding, like he was done playing by the rules. The guys were still buzzing, slapping backs and downing shots, but I felt the air shift, thick with unspoken heat.
'Dad, what—' I started, but he cut me off with a low chuckle, grabbing my arm. 'Sit down, son. Right here.' He pointed to a sturdy chair the club had dragged out for private dances, smack in the middle of our VIP area. My heart hammered like a drum in my chest, blood rushing south. The others froze, exchanging glances. Simon raised an eyebrow. 'Whoa, hold up—private show now?' David smirked, but there was an edge to it. Uncle Manuel cleared his throat. 'This ain't part of the plan, is it?' Ruben just stared, wide-eyed.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry, but my cock throbbed in my jeans, already leaking pre-cum into my boxers. 'Yeah, okay,' I muttered, dropping into the chair. Dad nodded toward the manager—a burly guy in his thirties hovering nearby. 'Get him some boxers. Something loose.' The manager blinked, then hustled off, returning with a pair of club-issue black boxers. I stood awkwardly, stripping off my jeans and shirt under their stares, the cool air hitting my skin. My dick strained against my own underwear, a wet spot blooming. I yanked them down, stepped into the fresh pair, and sat again, the fabric doing nothing to hide my growing bulge.
Dad approached slow, hips rolling like liquid sin, the briefs riding low on his hips. He circled me first, close enough that I smelled his musk—sweat and arousal, the scent that haunted my dreams. His hands trailed over my shoulders, fingers digging in just enough to make me shiver. 'Relax, João,' he murmured, breath hot against my ear. I was breathing heavy already, chest heaving, my cock jerking as pre-cum soaked the front of the boxers. The guests shifted uncomfortably—Simon whispered to David, 'This is fucked up, right?' Manuel's face flushed, Ruben's mouth hung open. They thought it was a joke, some bachelor prank, but the way Dad moved... it was too real, too hungry.
He pressed in behind me, grinding his crotch against the back of my neck, the hard length of him sliding over my skin. Then he spun around, dancing sensual and dirty—ass flexing as he dropped low, cheeks spreading the fabric taut, giving me a peek at the dark cleft I'd buried my face in so many times. He rose, turning to face away, bending at the waist, hands on his thighs, shaking that perfect ass inches from my face. I could see the outline of his hole through the thin material, and fuck, I was dripping, the boxers slick and clinging. My breaths came ragged, like I'd run a marathon, every nerve on fire.
The room tensed. 'Uh, this is your dad, man,' David said, voice strained. Uncle Manuel averted his eyes, but he didn't look away. Ruben fidgeted, adjusting himself. Dad didn't care—his control snapped. He acted like a needy slut, dropping onto my lap facing away, that firm ass nestling right against my crotch. He rolled his hips, rubbing back and forth, the friction making my cock pulse. The briefs did nothing to barrier the heat; I felt his crack parting around my bulge, teasing my tip. 'Dad...' I groaned, hands itching.
Shock rippled through the booth. Simon's jaw dropped. 'Holy shit, are they...?' The manager lingered, eyes glued, his pants tenting. Dad lifted his ass just enough to reposition, grinding harder, and I lost it—my hands shot to his cheeks, grabbing hard, kneading the muscle aggressively. I spread them, thumbs pressing the fabric into his cleft, feeling him clench. He moaned low, head falling back on my shoulder. 'That's it, son. Touch me.'
The air crackled with filthy, electric heat, thick and suffocating, like the room was drowning in our sweat and sin. These straight-laced bastards—my friends, my family—had their worlds shattered by the nasty sight of my own father grinding his slutty ass on my throbbing crotch like we were two feral dogs humping in the street. It broke them wide open, unleashing the hidden perverts inside. Simon's hand slithered up David's thigh, fingers digging in hard, then cupping that swelling bulge through his pants, squeezing like he owned it. 'Fuck, man, this is too hot... I need to feel you,' Simon muttered, voice husky and desperate. David gasped, not shoving him off—instead, he arched into the touch, panting, 'Yeah... touch my cock, don't stop.'
Ruben whipped around to Manuel, his eyes blazing with raw, incestuous hunger. 'Dad, please... I can't hold back anymore. Kiss me, fuck, just kiss your boy,' he begged, voice cracking with need. Manuel's face burned crimson, his resolve crumbling like wet paper. 'Shit, son, this is wrong... but God, I want it,' he growled, then grabbed Ruben's jaw, smashing their mouths together in a sloppy, taboo lip-lock. Tongues lashed out visibly, slick and invasive, spit trailing between them as they devoured each other like starving whores, moans muffled but obscene.
The manager, that beefy fucker, couldn't resist either—he yanked his zipper down with a rasp, fishing out his fat, veiny cock, already slick with pre-cum oozing from the slit. 'Holy fuck, this family's turning me into a goddamn animal,' he grunted, wrapping his fist around the shaft and stroking slow and nasty, the wet schlick-schlick echoing as his thumb smeared the leaking tip.
Dad's cock surged back to full, raging hardness, the black briefs stretched to bursting, the outline of his thick meat pulsing like a heartbeat. He spun around with a wicked grin, swinging one leg over to straddle my thighs face-to-face, our bulging crotches slamming together in a messy grind. 'Feel that, son? Daddy's dick is leaking for you,' he purred, rolling his hips in torturously slow circles, the friction dragging our pre-cum-soaked fabrics against each other, pulling guttural grunts from deep in our throats. We panted like rabid beasts, hot, ragged breaths crashing together, sweat pouring down our bodies in rivulets. 'You're so fucking hard for me, aren't you, boy? My little slut son,' he whispered, nipping my ear.
I nodded, lost in the haze, my hands clawing at his sweat-slick back. 'Yes, Dad... fuck, I need you so bad,' I groaned, and then his mouth crashed onto mine—wild, savage, tongues battling like we were fighting for dominance. He tasted of whiskey and pure lust, thrusting deep into my mouth, sucking on my tongue. I kissed back fiercer, biting his lower lip hard enough to draw a whimper, our spit mixing in a sloppy flood that dribbled down our chins.
The room exploded into chaos around us. Simon ripped David's shirt open with a savage tug, buttons flying, then latched onto his neck, sucking hard enough to leave bruises while his hand dove into David's pants, jerking that cock with rough, twisting strokes. 'Suck harder, yeah... make me cum in my pants,' David moaned, bucking into the grip. Ruben and Manuel tore off their shirts in a frenzy, bare chests heaving, hands groping everywhere—Manuel's fingers plunging into Ruben's waistband, yanking it down to free his son's leaking dick. 'Stroke me, Dad... feel how hard you make me,' Ruben whined, and Manuel obliged, pumping him slow and filthy. The manager jacked faster, grunting, 'Fuck yes, keep going... I'm gonna blow watching this incest shit.'
Dad broke the kiss with a wet pop, strings of saliva stretching between our lips, his eyes dark with whoreish need. He stood just enough to shove those briefs down his thighs, his massive cock flopping out—heavy, rock-hard, veins bulging like ropes, the fat head purple and drooling thick pre-cum in sticky strands. 'Open wide, you dirty boy. Suck Daddy's fat cock like the cum-hungry slut you are,' he snarled, tangling his fingers in my hair and yanking my head forward, forcing the swollen tip past my lips.
I stretched my mouth around his girth, tongue lapping greedily at the salty, musky head, swirling over the slit to scoop up every drop of that bitter pre. 'Mmm, fuck, Dad... tastes so good,' I mumbled around him, then dove deeper, gagging as his length battered my throat, my slurps loud and obscene, spit bubbling out the corners of my mouth and soaking his balls. They slapped wetly against my chin as he fucked my face brutally, hips pistoning. 'That's it, choke on it... take every inch, son. Daddy's gonna flood your throat,' he hissed, thrusting harder.
He finally pulled out with a gasp, thick ropes of spit connecting his cock to my swollen lips, then lunged back for another kiss—tasting his own cock on my tongue, we swapped the filthy mix in a hungry, sloppy frenzy, tongues sliding like greased snakes, more drool spilling everywhere. 'You love Daddy's dick, don't you? My nasty little cocksucker,' he murmured into my mouth.
Panting, he dropped to his knees between my spread legs, ripping the boxers aside with a growl. My cock sprang up, slick and veiny, aching for him. 'Look at this pretty dick... all wet for me,' he cooed, then swallowed me down in one filthy gulp, his throat opening like a velvet vice, gagging himself on my length. His head bobbed furiously, cheeks caving in with suction, one hand kneading my heavy balls, rolling them like he owned them. 'Fuck my face, son... ram it down my throat,' he urged between slurps, and I did—thrusting up hard, my moans turning to whorish cries as spit trailed down his chin onto my sack.
But that wasn't enough for my greedy father. He rose with a slutty sway, turning to present his ass, hovering it over my lap like an offering. 'Now fuck me, boy. Stretch Daddy's hungry hole with your big cock,' he demanded, reaching back to guide my tip to his puckered entrance—already slick and gaping from the earlier teasing, lubed with sweat and spit. The head breached him with a wet pop, his tight ring clenching hot and greedy around me as he sank down, inch by throbbing inch, until my balls pressed against his cheeks. 'Oh fuck yes... fill me up, son!'
I gripped his hips like vices, slamming upward as he bounced on me, his ass cheeks clapping loudly against my thighs with every nasty drop. We moaned like cheap whores in heat—high-pitched, desperate wails bouncing off the walls. 'Yes, pound your father's sloppy hole! Deeper, you filthy boy!' he screamed, riding me harder. 'Harder... breed me, pump that cum deep in Daddy's guts!'
Before he fully impaled himself, though, I couldn't resist—my hands roamed up his sweat-drenched torso, thumbs circling his hard nipples, pinching them until he yelped. 'Suck on them, son... lick Daddy's tits like a good slut,' he begged, arching his back. I leaned in, mouth latching onto one pebbled nipple, tongue flicking wet and relentless, sucking hard enough to make it shine with my spit. 'Mmm, yes... bite it, make it hurt so good,' he groaned, and I did, teeth grazing as I slurped noisily, drool running down his chest. Switching to the other, I lavished it the same—wet, whoreish kisses and licks, pulling back to watch strings of saliva snap back to his skin.
Then my tongue trailed lower, tracing the ridges of his sensual abs—those chiseled, sweat-slick muscles flexing under my touch. I kissed them sloppily, open-mouthed and filthy, tongue dipping into every valley, lapping up the salty tang like a bitch in heat. 'Oh God, son... worship Daddy's body, lick me clean,' he whimpered, grinding down harder as I sucked on his navel, tongue probing deep, leaving it glistening and wet. My lips smacked against his skin, kisses turning to hungry laps, coating his abs in a shiny layer of my spit, making them gleam under the lights. 'You're such a dirty whore for me... keep going, taste every inch.' We were lost in it, bodies slick and sliding, the room reeking of our nasty, incestuous lust.
Ruben and Manuel couldn't stay back. They approached, clothes half-off, cocks hard and leaking. Ruben knelt first, eyes on Dad's bouncing ass. 'Uncle... can I?' Dad nodded, gasping. 'Join us, nephew.' Ruben leaned in, tongue darting to lick where I plunged in, tasting our mix—salty skin, pre-cum. He lapped at my shaft on every upstroke, then sucked Dad's swinging balls, rolling them in his mouth. Manuel stood beside me, stroking his thick dad-cock, veined and heavy. 'My turn,' he rumbled, feeding it to Dad. Dad turned his head, sucking greedily, hollowing cheeks around his brother-in-law's length while I railed him.
The room devolved—Simon had David bent over the booth, pants down, fingering his ass while jerking him. The manager edged closer, offering his dick to whoever. But in the center, it was family: Ruben rose, pressing his cock to Dad's lips next, who alternated sucking Manuel and his nephew, drool everywhere. I pounded harder, feeling Ruben's tongue flick my balls now, Manuel's hand reaching to tweak my nipple. 'Cum inside him, nephew,' Manuel urged, voice rough. Dad clenched around me, milking, and I exploded—hot spurts flooding his ass, spilling out around my shaft. He followed, untouched, cum shooting across my chest in thick ropes.
We collapsed, panting, but the night burned on—bodies tangling in the haze of taboo release.
The music faded, and he stood, bowing to thunderous applause. 'Best bachelor party ever!' Simon roared. Dad grabbed a robe from backstage, but before disappearing, he mouthed to me: 'Your turn later.' My heart raced— the secret held, but the night was far from over. As we settled bills and headed out, buzzing, I knew we'd find a way to steal more. Mia waited at home, but Dad... Dad was mine in the shadows.
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
