Author's Note: All right, we're getting closer to the finale! Just one more chapter is planned. Send any feedback -- along with predictions or wishes for the story's ending -- to [email protected].
Splash
MATT
September 2025
-- Day 3, morning --
1. DAWN
Under a still indigo sky, Dad unzipped my tent and whispered: "You awake?"
He pressed my shoulder gently. It was the same tone he'd use when I still lived at home and overslept.
I nodded. I couldn't sleep well last night anyway, not after the way I'd used my father's throat.
After crawling out, I looked back at my uncle Patrick snoozing in our tent. I glanced at the two other tents, which sheltered my brother, nephew, and stepdad. They were all quiet.
How long can Dad and I keep this a secret? I thought, as I followed him into the forest. The stars had faded. Our flashlight beams swept over the path, and he told me his plan.
Just moments before dawn, Dad and I reached the highest ridge overlooking the park.
Once we crested the final rise, the world opened up. The cedar trees and massive oaks dropped away in a gentle, misty bowl below us. Beyond them, the horizon stretched pale and empty. The sky began to soften.
My nephew Lucas loved this spot. But for now, it was just Dad and me.
We sat on a flat slab of rock that jutted just far enough from the edge to feel exposed. For minutes, neither of us said anything.
Dad folded his arms across his knees. His glasses glinted with the faint reflection of the growing light.
“Glad you suggested this,” I said quietly. The edge of the sun broke above the horizon: a thin, glowing blade of gold that slowly widened.
Dad watched it with a quiet intensity. The way his shoulders stayed squared, the way his breathing seemed measured… he had something to say.
After a while he cleared his throat, looking out at the treetops.
“You ever notice,” he said, “how much quieter things are out here?”
I waited.
“Back in Austin, everything moves fast,” he added. He gestured loosely toward the woods beneath us. “Out here... you can actually hear yourself think. And you can just be.”
I knew what he meant.
He continued with a sigh: "Matt, this isn't easy but... right after the Europe trip, things started... changing for me. Or, I don't know, maybe I just remembered something that was always there."
I perked up, curious. His eyes squinted against the horizon.
"After we, uh, shared that chick in Rome, I started looking for some fun myself back home and, uh... there were guys too sometimes," he mumbled softly. "Well... it was only guys. Just to try it."
I shuffled in my seat. I couldn't believe it. Obviously, I got my dad fooling around with me a bit, and I knew he fucked some girls with Uncle Patrick back in the day. But I didn't know there were other guys.
"Oh," I said simply.
"Yeah."
"Like, neighbor dads or what?" I asked gently.
"No, no. Just random guys," he said, his arms wrapped tighter around his knees. "I guess, uh, gay guys call it cruising?"
Cruising. Like a flashbulb, I thought back to last month when I found out that my big brother Justin was cruising for men on his phone. I couldn't believe the coincidence.
I almost blurted out to Dad that Justin cruised too. That I arranged my own nasty, anonymous hookup with my big bro through a dingy restroom gloryhole. That Justin -- straight, married Justin -- had one of the biggest nutsacks I'd ever seen. But I thought better of it.
Instead, I asked: "Have you told Justin too?"
Dad hemmed and hawed for a bit too long. "Your brother, uh, he does know," he said to my surprise.
I stared at him. There was more he wasn't telling me. I let the silence spur him on.
"He was... there... during one session," Dad said.
"What?"
"Well, he-- we-- We sort of helped this guy get off once. Together... At the gym," he said, quiet as a mouse.
My cock inflated fast. My eyes widened.
Then my father spat out everything that was on his chest. Like a confession for absolution.
"Oh, dang it. After all we've done, I guess you'll understand... Look, Matt..." He took a deep breath. "Justin and I... We were at the gym. A guy in the sauna was jerkin' it and we... helped jerk him off. And then I -- I helped stroke Justin off."
He paused.
Then defensively he spewed, "Look, your brother was under a lot of stress, and your uncle Patrick and I used to, y'know, help each other out back in the day, so something just came back to me in the moment, and Justin was fine with it, and we haven't talked about it, but he liked it -- I think he liked it -- I think he appreciated it, and it's not like it would happen again."
I laughed at how frenetic Dad was getting. At least this explained Justin's newfound curiosity in anonymous men.
"Dad, chill. Yeah, I'm sure Justin liked it." I joked: "You're pretty good at strokin' cock."
Dad hung his head between his knees, shaking it slowly.
"Look," I said offhand, "it was only a matter of time Justin would find out about you too."
"Why do you say that?" Dad looked sideways at me, on guard.
I sighed. Another secret.
"So... Steven and I found out you were watching us, uh, having sex... That night you came to stay with us after Europe? The home camera caught you in the hall..."
Dad grew stony-faced.
"I-- I don't know what to say."
He retreated into himself.
"I don't really care, Dad. I mean, we fucked a girl together, right? Yeah, it was a bit weird knowing you watched my husband and me. But I got over it."
"But Steven..."
"Steven didn't care either," I lied. "He liked the idea of being watched. Let's just say he sees you in a different light though..."
Dad nodded quietly, as if trying to convince himself.
"I don't know what's been going over me..." he muttered.
"The way I see it... Follow what excites you," I said, picking at the grass. "Life's meant to be lived."
Somewhere down the slope, a bird started cawing. One clear note, repeated again and again. For a moment, the forest below us turned copper in the sunlight.
Dad took a deep breath. He stretched his arms above his head, joints cracking softly, his biceps flexing.
I studied his face. The strong and stubbled jaw, the careful composure. The familiar blue-gray eyes, crinkled behind the glasses. The tension between us felt thinner up here.
He continued: “Listen, Matt... I don’t want us tiptoeing around each other anymore.” He turned to look at me. "Let's just be real."
The words were simple, but the effort behind them wasn’t. My father had never been bad at emotions exactly. Just... slower with them.
“Dad, I'm almost 40," I smirked. "Not a teenager anymore.”
“Yeah, that's for sure," he chuckled, stealing a glance at my lap.
“We can just be adults, talk like adults.”
“That’s the goal,” he nodded firmly.
Below us, the forest slowly came alive: leaves shifting in the wind, the distant rush of water somewhere in the valley.
“Welp,” he said with finality, slapping my knee twice, hard.
“Guess we should head back?” I said.
Dad stood, brushing dust from the seat of his shorts.
“Gimme a second,” he said. “I gotta piss.”
He looked around us for a decent spot to mark, unsuccessful, then looked over at the valley laid out before us.
Smirking, he shrugged his shoulders at me, reached for his fly, and positioned himself facing the treetops below.
Unzipping loudly, Dad whipped out that fat cock that I'd seen so many times now. He was half-hard now, hanging heavy. Just like I was.
I recognized the swollen veins and ridges of his cock more each time. The tufts of dark hair poking through. The way his foreskin pulled back ever so slightly for action.
He smirked at me, then released.
Over the trees below us, his penis gushed out a torrent of piss with great force, gleaming extra golden in the morning sun.
Suddenly I had to take my morning piss too. Just like when someone's yawn elicits your own.
I unzipped quickly and flipped my penis through the open fly. With my dick chubbed up, my piss shot far over the ledge. The jet was less forceful than Dad's and a bit paler, but a relief all the same.
I shook my cock gently, still floppy enough to bounce.
Dad laughed from his belly as our streams crossed and collided mid-air, dancing and weaving around each other, over the green valley.
How strange: to see our streams of piss descending without hearing the echoes of splashing against a splattered surface.
I reached out to tickle the underside of Dad's penis just to tease him, to see if he'd shift away. He just nudged me with his elbow.
"Watch it, sport," he said, smiling.
Our streams slowed to a trickle -- mine first -- and they dotted the dusty earth between our feet.
"Beat ya," Dad said.
We zipped up and ambled back down to camp.
2. BREAKFAST
As we neared camp, the faint smell of eggs and bacon drifted through the trees. Dad lifted his nose slightly.
“Well, well,” he said approvingly. “Someone’s been productive.”
The campsite came into view a moment later.
Justin was kneeling by the fire pit in olive-green camp pants and a faded T-shirt, flipping something in a skillet.
My uncle Patrick moved around behind him, wearing a navy hoodie from one of our old family trips years ago.
“Morning, gentlemen,” Patrick boomed when he saw us.
Justin looked up. “There you guys are.”
"Breakfast smells good," Dad said.
“That’s cuz we’re in charge today," Justin teased.
“Don’t listen to him," Uncle Patrick said, green eyes twinkling. "I’m the talent here.”
“Yeah. Talent at eating,” Justin retorted.
“Where’s the rest of the crew?” I asked, settling down at the picnic table. "Lucas? Enrique?"
“Sleeping beauties,” Patrick scoffed, sliding a plate toward me.
Justin sat across from me, lowered his voice slightly and nodded toward the tent.
“Lucas was up half the night," Justin said. "Texting this 'friend' of his, I think.”
"Oh?"
“Pretty sure it's Caleb,” he murmured.
“Caleb?”
“His best friend. Or... might be something more. I dunno." Justin ran his fingers through his bronze-colored hair.
“Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world,” I said, taking a bite of jammy scrambled eggs.
“No,” he said, looking back at the tent. “It wouldn’t. S'long as he's happy...”
Dad and Uncle Patrick had drifted into their own conversation near the fire pit. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but their voices stayed low and steady. Dad looked distracted, glancing back at Lucas's tent.
Breakfast passed easily after that. Once we finished, Dad stood up and brushed crumbs from his hands.
“I’m gonna take a walk,” he said.
Justin looked up. “Everything okay?”
“Fine,” Dad said airily. “Just clearing my head.”
He disappeared down the trail without another word.
Justin watched him go. “Huh,” he said. Then he stood and stretched his shoulders back, his chest tight against his T-shirt. “I’m gonna change into some fresh clothes.”
Justin ducked into the tent he shared with Lucas.
The flap was wide open and I could see everything inside. A few tote bags. The big lump on the ground where Lucas dozed in his sleeping bag. Assorted clothes scattered about one side of the tent.
Justin peeled off his T-shirt in one swift move, dropping it in the pile of abandoned clothes. He began riffling through his duffel bag.
My brother's strong back was just as broad as I remembered from his glory days as a football star. Deltoids like boulders. Only a bit more meat around the waist.
His pecs were firm and full with the same dusting of dirty-blond chest hair and smooth brown nipples.
How does he still look this good after raising three kids? I thought.
He dropped his sweatpants to the ground.
Justin sported a pair of loose gray boxer briefs -- with a bold waistband that blared the Champion logo -- then he slid those down his trunk-like thighs.
And there was his meaty daddy ass.
It was the first time I'd seen my big brother's ass in years. I thought back to how it would bounce after a hard tackle on the turf.
Yeah, that's it, I thought, as he crouched down to replace his underwear, showing the fuzz between his globes. Bend down and open up those asscheeks, big bro.
I could just make out his massive, smooth nutsack hanging loose between his thighs.
I heard Lucas stirring awake beside him.
"Dad?" Lucas said groggily, turning over to face his father, now clad in his fresh new boxers.
"Morning, buddy," I heard Justin say faintly.
"Dad, can you pack up your dirty clothes already?"
"Huh?"
"Your side's a mess and it stinks," Lucas scoffed from his sleeping bag. "And pack up that blue underwear you borrowed from me too. I don't want your rank sweat in my bag!"
Justin chuckled. Lucas snorted too, despite himself.
"Yeah, sorry that I had to borrow a pair," Justin mumbled sheepishly, scratching his chest. "Forgot we'd be driving up on laundry day... Was in a hurry..."
Uncle Patrick wandered over to me before I could hear any more.
“Walk with me?” he said quietly.
We stepped away from the campsite toward the edge of the clearing. Patrick shoved his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.
“Well?” he said.
“Well what?” I asked.
He looked at me sideways.
"How are things with your dad?" His gaze was penetrating, the energy too charged.
Somehow I knew what he meant.
"You know?"
"I know enough."
I looked back at the campsite.
"It's just fun," I whispered, scratching the back of my head. "You should relate. But I dunno. I feel like I should lay off, lower the temperature..."
"And why would you do that?"
"He seems confused. Or anxious."
"He's not confused," Patrick snapped.
Patrick took a long look at Justin, who'd just emerged from his tent and was bending over a cooler.
"Your dad's just getting what he needs. It's about time." Patrick turned back to me with a grin. "Sounds like you got what you needed too."
Before I could answer, Lucas stumbled out of his tent too, pulling at the front of his shorts. He squinted against the sunlight like a small creature emerging from hibernation. His hair stuck out in several directions over his square face, blond curls mashed from sleep.
Lucas wore a navy hoodie that looked suspiciously familiar. Patrick noticed it at the same time I did.
“Hey!” Patrick called out to Lucas with a grin. “Matching,” he said, pointing at his own hoodie.
Lucas blinked down at himself.
“Oh. Yeah.” He tugged the sleeves over his hands. “It was cold.” He made his way to the picnic table.
A second later, I heard another zipper open slowly.
My stepdad Enrique stepped out of the third tent with the careful movements of someone trying not to wince. His dark hair had fallen over his forehead again, and he pressed a hand against his injured hip as he straightened.
Justin patted Enrique's ass lightly. “How’s the old landing pad today?”
Enrique gave a rueful smile.
“Not so good.”
He walked a few careful steps toward us, stretching his shoulders, looking around. Then he stopped.
“Sorry guys,” Enrique began. “I think I gotta go home.”
Lucas frowned. “What, already?”
Enrique smiled gently at him. “I need a real bed, not the ground again. Just glad I didn't miss your birthday, Luquito.” He ruffled Lucas's hair.
Justin listened, then nodded sympathetically. “I’ll walk you out,” he said.
“You don’t have to--”
“I know.” Justin was already grabbing Enrique's pack. “I’ll help carry your stuff. It's a couple miles!”
Enrique hesitated a moment, then accepted the offer with a grateful nod.
Justin clapped Patrick lightly on the shoulder.
“Back in a bit.”
“Take your time."
Justin and Enrique disappeared between the trees. Their footsteps faded quickly along the path, leaving the three of us standing in the clearing, Lucas a bit more despondent than before.
"Here, Lu, have some breakfast," Patrick said kindly, waving at the covered skillet.
A few minutes later, the sound of footsteps returned along the trail.
Dad stepped into view.
He slowed when he saw Lucas and seemed to look down at his waist. For a moment his expression shifted, something quick and avoidant, before settling back into its usual calm.
“Morning,” Dad said to no one in particular. Then he looked around. “Where’s Enrique?”
“He headed home,” I said. “His butt hurt a lot worse today from the fall.”
Dad’s shoulders dropped slightly. Disappointment and concern flickered across his face.
“That’s too bad.”
“Justin will be back in a few hours. Went to carry his stuff,” I said.
Dad nodded again. Then he looked toward the trail leading down to the river.
“So Matty, You, uh, wanna walk upstream today?” he asked me.
“Sure.”
Uncle Patrick looked over at us.
“The secret waterfalls?” Patrick asked with an air of mystery.
Dad’s eyes lit faintly. “You remember those?”
“Hard to forget,” Patrick chuckled.
“You in?”
"Nah, you boys have fun," Patrick said casually, waving us off. “I’ll hang back with Lucas.”
Lucas gave a small shrug. “Fine with me.”
Dad grabbed his water bottle and a towel.
“Let’s go, Matty," he said, putting on a baseball cap. "Bring your swimsuit -- if you want.”
3. THE FALLS
The path along the river was cool under the trees. Dad walked ahead of me, and neither of us spoke for the first few minutes.
I heard Uncle Patrick's voice ringing in my ears, prodding me to get what I needed, relishing that Dad was getting what he needed...
Along the way, we passed several empty campsites with abandoned fire pits. Suddenly, an idea struck me that I filed away for later.
Brushing branches aside, Dad said, “Not many people come this way."
The trail then dissolved into something more primitive -- just a narrow track between thick shrubbery. Eventually we reached a bend in the river, and we could hear the falls before we saw them.
Just ahead of the riverbend, a stunning natural waterfall rose from the river in layered stone terraces.
As the river coursed down, the water flowed over wide tiers, each level forming its own shallow pool before rushing over the next edge. The water gushed over the rocks with a steady, glassy sound, and the limestone was pale and smooth.
Along the sides of the falls, natural rock formations formed little ledges where people could recline comfortably against the gravelly wall while the water rushed past them.
“Wow,” I said quietly.
Dad nodded with quiet satisfaction. “Told you.”
In sync, Dad and I stripped off our caps, our shirt, our shoes, our socks.
Dad placed his hands on the waistband of his briefs and glanced at me quickly. He shrugged.
Then he dropped his skivvies onto the grass. After his reluctance to skinny dip yesterday, he was a completely new man.
I followed suit, leaving my trunks behind, and followed my father to the river's edge.
My eyes fixated on Dad's firm and furry muscle ass, lightly hairy on the cheeks but thicker down his thighs. Dad definitely passed his glutes on down to Justin.
We stepped into the river and approached the first cascade, Dad leading the way. The water swirled around our knees, a bit warmer today.
I thought about the way we splashed around with Uncle Patrick yesterday, how Dad probably thought I couldn't feel his cock bouncing against me underwater.
Up close, the roar of the falls now filled the entire space -- steady, rhythmic, almost hypnotic.
Dad placed a hand against the rocks and began climbing carefully toward the first platform. The limestone was slick but manageable.
“Careful climbing,” he said, looking back at me, his generous ballsack swinging low between his open thighs.
As he maneuvered his legs further up the rocks, his hairy hole peeked at me ever so quickly. My heart jumped.
I followed him up the first tier and sank into the warm, crystal pool where the river's water gathered before spilling over the ledge. The rich smell of moss wafted over from the cliffside.
“Let’s see how high we can get!" Dad yelled over the noise, swimming farther ahead.
Once he was up on the next level, Dad helped pull me up, holding me tight by my forearms, as the water flowed over his broad shoulders and splashed around my waist.
Gathering my balance anew, I stood knee-deep in water and rotated slowly, taking in the entire view from the center of the falls. The cascades rushed with power both above us and below. The forest rose steeply on both sides, and sunlight dappled across the white-capped water.
Dad rested his hands on my shoulders, catching his breath as we looked out, his scratchy chest brushing my back. We could look down below to the forest from which we came.
“Not bad,” he said.
“Not bad at all.”
To the side, there was a smooth, flat outcrop just over the water's surface, right on the edge of the cascade like a shelf. It was wide enough for two people to lean back comfortably.
"How about we get some sun, son?"
I groaned at the pun, and we swam over.
Dad and I lay back on the smooth limestone rock, side to side, our shins and feet hanging over the edge into the water. The waves ebbed underneath us, a thin film of water on the limestone slab. The strong midday sun evaporated the water off our torsos.
Our eyes were closed, and we reminisced.
"Remember how fun Rome was?" I said to the azure sky.
"Yeah, great food, great sightseeing," Dad said wistfully to my right.
"Yeah... and a great lay with Sofia," I said, chuckling.
Dad took a deep breath.
"Sometimes I can't believe that happened," he said.
"Me neither," I mumbled, smiling inwardly at the fact that Dad was oblivious that I'd planned it all along.
"What did you like about it?" Dad asked tentatively. "About sharing that... experience?"
"Seeing how good it made you feel," I said easily. "You?"
"Honestly, I was proud to see you fuck... And to see how you fuck..."
Dad's candor struck me silent at first. My cock stirred awake, resting on my thigh.
Slowly, I reached for my penis with my left hand, trying not to draw attention. I circled my thumb lightly around my cockhead, feeling it stiffen.
"I liked seeing how you drop buckets of cum when you bust," I said. "Nice creampie."
Dad snickered. "Yeah, I've always been kind of a squirter."
"--and then I got to use your fresh cum as my lube."
Dad took in a sharp breath.
"I liked hearing how you grunt when you cum," Dad said. "I was like, damn, my Matty's a man."
His voice caught on his throat. I opened one eye and looked to my side.
Dad was stroking his meat too. I massaged my balls.
"And when you watched Steven fuck me?" I said softly, trying to steady my voice. "What'd you like about that?"
Dad hesitated, then eked out, "Steven's got a great ass... Have to say."
"Fuck yeah, he does." I ran my fist along the length of my rock-hard cock even faster.
"It's fuckin' bouncy," Dad said, the thirst dripping in his voice. His breathing quickened. His forearm brushed mine.
"Fun to grab," I concurred.
"Yeah?"
"What would you do to it?"
"Me? I'd spread his cheeks."
"While he fucks me?"
"Yeah, while he fucks you." The fapping sounds at my Dad's crotch were unmistakable.
I opened both eyes now. Dad still had his eyes closed, and I stared right at his cock.
Watching his imagination power his pleasure, I asked, "How did I look? Taking his dick up my ass?"
"Hot -- I mean, good," he corrected. "Just so... cool, how you can switch on a dime from being alpha to just being, like, a little bitch." His voice shook, stretching from desire to deviance.
My heart raced. I wanted more.
I slid my body into the frothy water until my feet hit the riverbed again. I turned back to my father, who was still prone on his back.
Crouching, my head was just above the water. I crept up between my dad's bent knees while he continued to stroke himself into delirium.
Dad was lost in his reverie, too blissed out to stop stroking. I placed my hands on his knees while I watched the show from up close.
"Oh fuck," he breathed out.
This was the nearest my face had ever been to his penis. My mouth watered at this new perspective, exploring his cock's underside.
Eight inches of dadcock stood straight up like a tower in front of me. From this vantage point, his dick looked twice the size of his head!
Dad's foreskin still hugged around his glans, as he massaged his shaft at a slow, indulgent rhythm. The skin was tanned and matte.
And his ballsack -- those huge, defined goose eggs -- looked recently shaved and hung low on the slab of rock.
I reached up and rubbed his thighs, which broke Dad out of his spell.
He looked down his torso at me, biting his lip, his eyes conflicted.
"That's it, keep stroking," I told him.
He obeyed, tilting his head back.
I spread his knees further apart ever so slightly. Placing my hands on the ledge, I lifted my chest onto the slab of limestone between his thighs, water sluicing down my back.
I exhaled a warm breath onto his crotch as he kept pumping away.
"Let me suck you off," I muttered darkly. "It's time to return the favor."
Dad hesitated. "You-- you don't have to do that just to make it mutual."
"Well... then let me do it because I want to," I cooed. "I want to stuff my mouth with the cock that made me."
Dad whimpered.
Balancing my torso on the rocky ledge, I reached both hands to the side of my dad's natural bush, as he let his hands fall to his side.
Only a few inches from his cock, I could smell the fresh water clung to his skin.
At its widest point, it looked almost as thick as my wrist. With a small pang of guilt, I realized it was fairly larger than my husband's.
Placing one hand just below his hidden glans, I unsheathed that dadcock nice and slow.
His foreskin was thick, and just beneath it was his impossibly smooth, slick, pink cockhead.
It was shiny like a mirror, flared at the rim and proportionately larger than average. It stretched his foreskin to the limit until...
At last unveiled, Dad's sheath snapped under his corona, lodging in place with a smooth but firm catch.
I'll show him why men are the best cocksuckers, I thought, wagging his rod like a prize.
I leaned in slowly, nearing his sack, knowing that this one moment would divide time for me into a "before" and an "after."
And then... contact.
That pivotal moment. I started with his heavy balls, lodging my tongue in the cleft between them, feeling his testicles brush against the sides of my tongue as I swept it up. The musk was unavoidable.
"Aah!" Dad sighed, his nutsack retracting up in pleasure.
After a few more licks up and down the shaft, I focused on his exposed cockhead, swirling my tongue around it, suckling his smooth, fat glans.
With one hand, I played with his big balls too, pulling them away gently from his asshole.
My mouth descended deeper, taking inch after inch of his massive hog, feeling the tip brush against the roof of my mouth.
Soon, it was pressing against the back of my throat, stretching my lips, while I resisted any urge to gag. I teased my tongue out, gently lapping up his balls with his full length stuffed inside me.
My breath was shallow through my nose, but it still captured his musk tickling my nostrils.
Something brushed against my shoulders. Dad's legs were rising to wrap around my head, his ankles hooked behind my neck. Pulling me in deeper, he forced my mouth to reach its limit.
I sputtered out trails of saliva, but I was determined. Determined to show Dad that I could handle it. I was a big boy after all.
I peered up. Dad's eyes were closed in pleasure, and he was smelling his own armpits. A surge of lust shot through my veins.
I let his cock fall out of my mouth and, snaking my way between his legs, I positioned my face even lower.
Lifting my dad's heavy nutsack out of the way, I approached his tight, hairy hole to rim him.
Before I could lick, Dad's body clenched in worry.
Preempting his protests, I said, "It's fine, the river's washed us up."
Dad's scent was perfect -- clean but rugged, masculine, intoxicating. I wanted to surprise him -- no gentle tapping or teasing. Just go for it.
With one full, broad wipe, I pressed the full width of my tongue against him and swept up without delay, feeling the hairs, the furrows, and the smooth center.
Dad's torso lifted off the rock with a low groan, as his back arched up in pleasure and his glutes flexed.
Using two fingers to massage the outside of this hole in a V-shape, I continued licking him deep, feeling his long, smooth hairs catch around my tastebuds.
"Don't I eat ass better than Uncle Pat?" I smiled into his taint.
Dad moaned. "Oh you have no idea," he replied.
After a few moments of service, Dad asked me a question that thrilled me to the core.
"Could you... finger me?" he said, almost abashed.
"Finger you?" I asked, incredulous but wanting to sound steady.
"I -- I just want to feel what it's like.
I lifted myself up and looked down at Dad's inviting hole, his low-hanging ballsack pushed to the side, and his giant uncut hog twitching in anticipation. His piss slit was glistening with precum and saliva.
I held one of Dad's legs up in the air and hacked a thick wad of spit onto my fingers. Rubbing the slick mess onto Dad's hole, I teased the outside, edging one fingertip ever so slightly inside.
Dad's moans went deeper as he took a long breath and settled back.
"Ready?" I asked.
"Ready."
I slid in my middle finger past the first knuckle. Then it went past the second, and I felt his warmth envelop and poach my finger.
His virgin walls were tight as could be, soft and spongy, and I felt his heartbeat pulsate around me.
As I pulled out, his ass hairs clung to my finger. Then I pumped faster.
His breaths matched the tempo of my fingerfucking, shallow and quick, coming from the top of his chest.
"I think you can take another," I said devilishly, adding my index finger swiftly before he could respond.
"Gah!" he cried out, widening his eyes at me, clutching my forearm like a vise. "Oh, oh fuck, it's a lot. That's a lot."
"You get used to it."
He panted.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Show me how it's done."
Dad smiled to himself, as he sighed back onto the rock, his eyeballs rolled back in ecstasy.
"Fuck, you look so good when you just give in," I cooed.
Dad let his hands go behind his head, taking the pleasure in stride, showing his hairy pits off to his boy.
"Look at you," I said. "Aren't you just a little slut?"
"I am," he said growling. "I am, I am -- Fuck, I am a slut."
"Go and sniff your pits again."
Dad obeyed, taking deep whiffs.
"Good?"
"Mm."
"Lick them."
He paused. The tip of his tongue poked out cautiously.
"Do what I say and lick them."
I shoved my two fingers deeper.
"AAH!"
Abandoning restraint, he applied his whole open mouth onto his bushy pit and slobbered over his manly hairs.
Without prompting, he gave his other armpit equal treatment.
"Good," I praised. "Now stroke yourself."
I picked up the pace on his hole. Dad's nutsack started bouncing wildly with the force of my fingering.
"Am I your best player, coach?" I teased.
"Yes, Matt. Yes you are. Fuck, I'm proud of you buddy. Show your dad what a man you are."
I rammed my fingers in deeper and felt a hard wall.
Dad yelped.
"That's your G spot," I murmured. "Your prostate." I pulsated my fingers against his organ.
"Oh, that's the spot all right," he cried out, stroking faster.
I let go of his ankle and grabbed the top of his cock.
His moans rose in pitch, staccato with the thrusts -- then long, steady, and drawn-out.
"Ah-ah-ah-ahhhh!"
Dad held the lower half of his cock at the base, while I stroked his cockhead with my remaining hand.
His hand trembled below mine.
His cockhead swelled.
"Squeeze it tight, Dad," I muttered. "Hold that dadcum inside while I edge you."
He looked right at me. Cool-blue eyes met hazel.
"Take me," he said.
Then I let go of his cock as he kept pumping. I placed my forearm in the crooks behind his knees. I lifted his ass up a few inches off the ground to bend his back while I kept fingering hard.
Getting a full sight of his own cock hanging in the air must have done it for him.
Yeah. He liked it.
No warning.
A single, abundant rope of cum shot out of Dad's cock. The hot white mess splattered onto his face, trailing down his chest. It looked like spilled milk.
"FUUUUCK," he yelled.
Jet after jet of cum followed, landing over his open mouth, across his furry chest, on his neck, in one of his armpits, getting trapped among the hairs.
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" he grunted desperately.
Once he was done shooting but still panting wildly, I lay his legs down gently on the rock and crawled up his toned, hairy body.
I slammed my mouth on his cum-covered armpit. Hungrily, I licked his thick bush from bottom to top, picking up his manscent along the way.
Holding his wrists down above his head with one hand, I licked his other pit, stroking myself closer to the edge with fingers heated by his insides.
Dad laughed with abandon, tickled, sounding bewildered but sated.
Looking at his profile, I ran a finger down Dad's cheek to collect more of his thick white cum, trailing there like a tear.
Dad's milk, I thought.
I licked my finger clean.
Fuck, I was close.
I traced another line on his neck, picking up more of his dadcum.
Dad's eyes met mine, and I shoved my semen-dripped finger into his mouth.
He sucked on my finger to my bewilderment, and I felt the floodgates burst open...
"Oh fuuuuck," I cried out, laying on top of him. "I'm cummin, Dad, I'm cummin."
My eyesight blacked out for the briefest moment. My asshole twitched as ropes of my jizz painted the back of my dad's thighs.
"Yeah, fuck, take it," I moaned.
Dad gave me a few gentle pats on the back with a low chuckle.
"A-plus," he said, rubbing my shoulder.
While I caught my breath, Dad sighed and rested his head, looking in the other direction...
Then he froze.
“Matt!”
I looked up.
“What?”
Dad lifted his head slightly, his eyes alert, looking down the waterfall. He squinted toward the riverbend.
“Is... that someone there?” he muttered at me, nodding at the forest's edge.
At first, I just saw the river and the lush foliage beyond.
Then I saw rustling. Somewhere in the trees from where we came.
"Matt..." Dad said, gripping my wrist tight. Through the branches, I caught a glimpse, unclear. I held my breath.
Someone was slinking away.
Someone in a navy hoodie.
--To be continued--
---
Email: [email protected]
Twitter/X: @mharding1985
--
Also by the author:
"Dad's Helping Hand"
© 2025 Matt Harding
PART I:
Chapter 1: What Happens In Rome...
Chapter 2: ... Cums Back Home
Chapter 3: The Videotape Chapter 4: Steam
Chapter 5: Glory Days
Chapter 6: As We Used To Be
Dad's Helping Hand: The Christmas Special
PART II: CAMP HARDING
Chapter 7: Coming Clean
Chapter 8: His Special Touch
Chapter 9: Just Like Me
Chapter 10: Splash
To get in touch with the author, send them an email.
